Monday, June 4, 2012

Cooking Club At Crabtree Farms

When talking about who was hosting our next cooking club and where we could have it, one girl mentioned that she could host and we could eat outside at Crabtree Farms, a local farm minutes from Chattanooga.  Her husband is on the board, so we would have the whole farm to ourselves.  Exsqueeze me?  Um, yes please!  

It's a plant, veggie, and fruit farm with quiet surroundings and a front row view of the lovely Lookout Mountain.  I've heard about its glory, but have never been there in person.  Oh my gosh-what have I been waiting for?!?

When I first arrived, I had to take it all in.  I grabbed my camera and snapped pictures of the surroundings.  The night was cool, it had just rained, so there was a beautiful mist, and everything was picturesque.  I let my mind forget about bugs, hard sun, and sore knees.  Instead, I daydreamed for just a moment about selling everything we had to start a farm and live off the land.  Health insurance is overrated, right?

I like to ignore that there are problems and hardships that come with farmlife and focus on the novelty of small rovers, metal roofs, and greenery at every turn.  

Once I got my fill of ambiance, I went to the drink station.  Glasses, who needs them?  This is a farm-mason jars were the only stemware we needed.  

There were several premade basil, strawberry lemonades chilled and ready to drink.  They were absolutely delicious and I wanted four of them.  For the ladies who were wild and crazy, there was vodka there to spike that lemonade.  By the label, it looks like it's a Russian vodka, which I think is the fancy stuff.  I saw it on Martha Stewart one time.  True Story.  

I can't even remember what the theme was (partly because I sneaked around the barn with that bottle and took a few swigs. not true story), but it it was all good.  I made falafals and they were well received, even if they were made an hour beforehand.  

It was all wonderful, but my favorite was the Israeli cous-cous.  I just wanted to stuff it in my pockets, my purse, and run away and live with it.  Snap peas, pistachios, and some other stuff that I can't remember.  We all raved about it.  

The evening was all a big success.  Swanky. Charmed. Dope. All wonderful adjectives to describe a wonderful time, but when is eating outside at a farm not an incredible experience?

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