Practical Homesteading

Tag: nutrition

  • Named and Nourished: Living Honestly with Meat

    Named and Nourished: Living Honestly with Meat

    What are your feelings about eating meat?

    I sometimes grapple with eating animals I’ve raised and named. Pigs like Spotty loved to root in the muddy corners. The turkey Gobbles strutted proudly in the sunshine. The chickens clucked softly in the evening. I never take it lightly. There is an ache in my chest that tightens when I carry out the hard work of ending their lives. But I would rather face that ache honestly than be complicit in a system that strips animals of dignity, treating them as mere commodities instead of beings. For me, this tension is the price of eating meat with eyes wide open.

    Growing up on my family’s dairy farm, caring for animals was part of my daily rhythm. I remember scratching the ear of a steer. He leaned into my touch with surprising gentleness while I broke ice on water troughs in the biting cold. However, even as a kid, we didn’t always eat meat from our own animals. We bought beef from the store, packaged and removed from the lives—or deaths—that put it on the table. That detachment was normal in my world, a quiet dissonance between nurturing life and consuming it anonymously.

    It wasn’t until I learned about the horrors of industrial agriculture that my perspective began to shift. Chickens are crammed into tiny cages, cattle are confined in waste-filled feedlots, and pigs are subjected to painful tail docking. The animals I knew from childhood sparked a deep yearning to reclaim a meat-eating ethic rooted in respect and care. Where animals could express their natural behaviors under open skies.

    Now, I raise pigs, turkeys, and chickens that roam freely, living full lives before their humane end. Spotty’s joyful mud rooting, Gobbles’s proud displays, and the quiet clucks of layers settling at dusk—all these moments remind me of the life behind the meat. After every harvest, I pause to thank them, honoring their sacrifice and the circle of life in a way that industrial meat production never allows. This act of gratitude is both a balm and a reminder of the weight carried in each bite.

    Eating meat remains a negotiation between love and loss, tenderness and necessity. Naming my animals and seeing their personalities has made me confront discomfort rather than avoid it. It’s deepened my gratitude and underscored my responsibility. Though I sometimes wish I could spare each life, I have chosen this path over indifference. In this way, I believe that conscious stewardship is the only ethical way to continue eating meat.

    In this balance, I find a measure of peace. I carry my sorrow alongside my meals, never forgetting the lives that nourish me. The choice is not easy, but it is honest. And in that honesty, I find a deeper respect—for the animals, for the earth, and for the tradition of living with awareness rather than denial.

    If this essay resonates with your own thoughts on ethical eating, food sourcing, or the farm-to-table life, like it to show support. Share it with fellow homesteaders or omnivores questioning the system. Subscribe for more raw reflections on living intentionally with animals and land.

    Related Posts

    More Than a Meal: Raising Our Own Thanksgiving Turkeys

    Discover the joys and challenges of raising backyard turkeys in this heartfelt story about patience, humor, and the journey from fluffy poults to Thanksgiving centerpiece. Learn personal lessons and practical insights from a family’s wild turkey-raising adventure.

    Keep reading
    fzangl1's avatar by fzangl1

    The Choreography of Cattle and Grass

    Experience a vivid farm story about rotational grazing, resilience, and regenerative land stewardship through the eyes of a family and their Red Angus herd. Discover how cattle, people, and pasture move together in balance

    Keep reading
    fzangl1's avatar by fzangl1

    Between Joy and Heartbreak: Lessons from Life with Animals

    If you care for animals, you soon learn that joy and heartbreak are neighbors—arriving together, sometimes within the span of a single sunrise. I didn’t set out to be a caretaker, but each creature has reshaped me, leaving lessons that linger long after the shed doors close. Learning Detachment My childhood on a dairy farm…

    Keep reading
    fzangl1's avatar by fzangl1

  • Beyond the Plate: Cooking with Heart, Seasonality, and Family in Mind

    What are your family’s top 3 favorite meals?


    Imagine standing in your kitchen after a long day, staring into the fridge and pantry. Hungry family members are standing by waiting not-so-patiently. You juggle not only what tastes good but also what’s nutritious, budget-friendly, and available—all in one mental balancing act. As the main cook in our household, this daily challenge has encouraged me to develop a simple system. I choose meals based not just on flavor but also on their flexibility, ease, and heart.

    At the core is a meal framework built around three essentials: protein, vegetables, and starch. This adaptable formula shifts with the seasons and what’s on hand. Proteins can be chicken, pork, beef, fish, or even plant-based, depending on our mood. Vegetables reflect the harvest—right now, that means home-preserved summer bounty or crisp fall favorites like cabbage, Brussels sprouts, and carrots. Starches might be boiled potatoes, rice, bread, or pasta.

    Take Swedish meatballs simmered in savory sauce, paired with boiled potatoes and roasted Brussels sprouts. The meatballs release a comforting spiced aroma, while the tender potatoes soak up the sauce’s richness. The Brussels sprouts, caramelized and slightly crisp, add a satisfying texture. Sometimes, I swap the potatoes for egg noodles or rice. Other times, I substitute veggies with whatever is fresh or frozen—perhaps roasted cabbage or steamed broccoli. That’s what makes this dish endlessly flexible and flavorful.

    Another deeply comforting meal we savor is our pork roast with baking powder dumplings and homemade sauerkraut. This dish carries the warmth of tradition—raised from hogs on our farm and fermented sauerkraut preserved each year. The dumplings, pillowy and light, take about 20 minutes to make, but their soft texture is worth the wait. On busier nights, a crusty loaf of bread stands in just fine. The tangy sauerkraut and savory pork meld beautifully. It’s a combination that our 6-year-old son eagerly requests, making it more than dinner—but a family ritual.

    When I have more time to savor cooking, I prepare roasted lemon garlic salmon with rice and roasted broccoli. The salmon, infused with bright lemon and savory garlic flavors, roasts to tender perfection with a slightly crisp edge. The roasted broccoli brings a bit of earthiness and crunch, balancing the richness of the fish. Fluffy rice accompanies the dish, soaking up any juices and tying the meal together harmoniously. This combination can easily adjust. You can swap the rice for potatoes or pasta. Or you can switch up the veggies depending on what’s fresh or frozen. As a result, this meal is both versatile and inviting.

    What unites these meals is more than just ingredients or technique. It’s the love poured into making them work for everyday life. These dishes mirror the seasons, our kitchen’s rhythm, and the joy of feeding family with less stress and fuss. They invite us to gather around the table, share stories, and create memories. Cooking, for me, is not just about sustenance; it’s an act of care and connection.

    In the end, cooking for family is a dance of practicality and pleasure, tradition and innovation. Our favorite meals teach me that the best dinners aren’t about perfection—they’re about presence: being there, nourishing those you love, and turning the ordinary into something extraordinary.

    Now it’s your turn! What are your family’s three favorite meals? Do you use a simple framework like protein-veggie-starch, or do you have a unique approach in your kitchen? Share your go-to dishes or meal hacks in the comments below. I love hearing how others bring their families together through food.

    And for more easy, adaptable recipes and home-cooking tips, please like this post. Share it with friends who might find this inspiring. Don’t forget to subscribe or follow for regular updates—you won’t want to miss what’s cooking next!

    Related Posts

  • Generations on the Land: Reflections for June Dairy Month

    Generations on the Land: Reflections for June Dairy Month

    Growing up on a dairy farm in Wisconsin, my days were shaped by the rhythm of the cows and the turning of the seasons.  Each morning began before sunrise, the air crisp with the scent of damp earth as my family and I made our way to the barn.  The gentle lowing of the cows was our alarm clock, their needs dictating every hour.  Summers meant long days baling hay and tending fields; winters brought the challenge of breaking ice in water troughs and cleaning icy yards.  Even now, years after leaving the farm, that heritage remains woven into who I am.  The values of hard work, responsibility, and respect for the land and animals continue to guide me, especially as June Dairy Month arrives each year.

    June Dairy Month always brings a sense of pride and community across Wisconsin.  As families gather for breakfasts on the farm and other celebrations, I’m reminded of the camaraderie that comes from being part of such a vital tradition.  It’s a time to reflect on my roots, appreciate the dedication of today’s dairy farmers, and feel connected to the land and lifestyle that shaped my upbringing.

    As a child, I didn’t fully grasp the significance of June Dairy Month. I simply felt the special energy it brought:  early mornings in the barn, the mingled scents of fresh hay and silage, the gentle clatter of milk pails, and the creamy taste of fresh milk.  My parents stressed that cows don’t wait, and chores don’t take vacations.  I learned this during many summer afternoons as I missed parties and other gatherings to clean the cow yard.  The cows needed tending, indifferent to my disappointment and frustration.  In those moments, responsibility became more than a lesson, but a way of life.

    Looking back, I see how my family’s story is part of a much larger one.  Wisconsin’s identity as “America’s Dairyland” began with a dramatic transformation in the late-19th century, when wheat fields gave way to pastures and dairy barns.  Innovations like the refrigerated rail car and the Babcock butterfat tester, along with the support of the University of Wisconsin, helped turn the state into a national leader in milk and cheese production.  June Dairy Month, which began in 1937, celebrates the contributions of dairy farmers to our nutrition, agriculture, and economy.

    What stands out most from those years is the sense of community.  Our work mattered, not just to us, but to neighbors and friends who relied on us for fresh dairy, and to the local businesses that depended financially on our success.  June Dairy Month specifically meant hearty breakfasts on the farm, farm tours, and the joy of sharing what we produced.  These traditions instilled in me a deep appreciation for collaboration and generosity.

    Though I no longer live on a dairy farm, those values guide how I raise my own family.  We keep a small garden and some poultry, and I make sure my kids know where their food is sourced.  Every June, we attend the local Breakfast on the Farm, reconnecting with my roots and supporting our neighbors.  We make homemade ice cream and talk about the farmers who make it possible.  These experiences help my family feel connected not only to our food, but to the people who produce it.

    Today’s dairy farmers face unprecedented challenges: rising costs, unpredictable weather, ever-evolving pests and diseases, emotional strain, and the pressures of a global market, among many other worries.  The long hours and physical demands deter many from continuing the legacy.  And yet, every day, farmers rise before dawn, meeting each obstacle with grit and creativity.  Their perseverance sustains not only their families, but our communities and traditions. Recently, I attended a June Dairy Breakfast with my parents and children. The aroma of fresh pancakes mingled nicely with the scent of blooming lilacs, and my kids’ eyes lit up at the sights and sounds.  Watching my kids and my parents interacting together on the farm, I felt the invisible threads of community and legacy binding us together, a living tapestry woven from shared labor and respect.  The future of farming depends on all of us: supporting local farms, honoring the land, and teaching the next generation about where food is sourced.  In every glass of milk, every slice of cheese, and every community breakfast, the story of perseverance and pride continues.  It’s up to us to ensure this heritage thrives for generations to come.

    Do you celebrate June Dairy Month? Share your thoughts below, and subscribe to join a group of like-minded people.

    Photo by Pixabay: https://www.pexels.com/photo/red-barn-235725/

    #JuneDairyMonth