|
|
 |
 |
Excerpted from Ricky Lauren: Cuisine, Legend and Lifestyle of the Double RL Ranch |
|
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
T he first time we saw the ranch in the winter, the snow was too high to traverse even with a four-wheel drive. In order to get up to the Vance barn, we had to hire a huge tractor-like vehicle known to the outdoor specialist as a Snow Cat. This Snow Cat was about 18 feet long and 8 feet tall, with each track being no less than 3 feet wide. Its overall body width was about 10 feet. We stepped up into the bowels of this gigantic mechanical feline and prowled forward over the meadows and through the woods of a frozen wonderland.
“As we gazed up and down its length across the wide expanse, I felt akin to the mighty six-pointed elk that stood proud and alone on the other side of the canyon on a snow-covered precipice of the great rock wall.”
When we arrived at our destination, we saw only the top of the old barn way out in the glacial distance. We were told that the snow was 11 feet higher than the top of the fence, and we were standing directly over it. It amazed us to see such a wondrous amount of snow in contrast to the summer landscape that we knew so well. We stared out into pristine, eerie stillness, exhaling fine wafts of warm vapor that were visible in the frosty air. The snow- covered mountains rose up out of the horizon, and all around us the sky was a deep, dark Colorado blue. Three black-and-white magpies flew noisily by. Their cackling and squawking aroused us from our reverie, reminding us that were still earthbound.
It had been snowing on and off for two days. Overnight, soft, dense snowflakes fell silently all around us, and the volume of snowfall mounted as the hours passed. I kept track of the new accumulation. By early morning, the snow was 2 feet high in some places, and drifts of 5 feet had settled against the side of the barn. Stepping out of the cozy warmth of our cabin into the brisk, cold new day, my hair and shoulders were cloaked by the soft white flakes that ceaselessly continued to fall. We made our way to the cookhouse to enjoy a lovely country breakfast. We shook off the snow in the mudroom, shed our outer garments and boots, and made our way to the fireplace to warm ourselves by the huge fire in the river-rock wall. After a breakfast of pancakes and scrambled eggs, we sat around the old oak table with mugs of hot coffee and cocoa and began to plan our day.
Pumpkin Soup
Serves 8-10
- 3 pounds pumpkin or butternut squash, peeled and cut into 1-inch cubes
- 1 large onion, coarsely chopped
- 1 apple, peeled, cored, and coarsely chopped
- 1 sweet potato, peeled and cut into 1-inch cubes
- 8 cups chicken broth
- 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
- ½ teaspoon ground allspice
- ¼ teaspoon ground nutmeg
- ¼ teaspoon curry powder
- Kosher salt and ground black pepper
1. In a stockpot, bring all of the ingredients to a boil and simmer for 1 hour, until vegetables are cooked.
2. Puree in small batches until smooth. Serve immediately.
|
While we looked out beyond the frosted windowpanes toward the corrals, the sun’s rays sliced their way through the heavy gray storm clouds. The snow had finally stopped. The horses stood in the golden light and the snow that evaporated from the thick fur of their winter coats seemed to rise like steam. After breakfast, we slipped into our boots and jackets and stepped out into the crisp, sunny, blue-sky-glorious day. This was a time for cross-country skiing and snowmobiling, and here on our ranch, were the best conditions. The air felt fresh and clean at the altitude of 7,400 feet, where our land begins. Wintertime temperatures can rise to 50° Fahrenheit by midday, allowing us to enjoy outdoor sports in the snow wearing T-shirts and jeans. We can even tan in the winter sunlight. Today we voted to ride in pairs on our snowmobiles. As we made our way through the newly fallen powder, we passed the naked cottonwood trees, their forms casting blue-violet shadows upon the glistening white banks of the icy stream. The sunlight sparkled like white, blue, and yellow diamonds scattered across the snowscape. Along the way, we stopped our snowmobiles to study the canyon. I stood so close to canyon’s edge that I sensed a cold updraft rising over its rim. As we gazed up and down its length across the wide expanse, I felt akin to the mighty six-pointed elk that stood proud and alone on the other side of the canyon on a snow-covered precipice of the great rock wall.
Up in the national forest, we hurtled past snow-bedecked pine trees whose limbs were weighted down by iridescent gleaming crystal icicles that hung suspended from the branches. As we passed through the woods, everything around us was pure sparkling white and deep dark green, and appeared to me to be painted on a canvas primed with cobalt-blue sky. Later, back in my cozy log house, a welcome fire blazed and crackled in the fireplace. A hot drink steamed in my favorite cup. The stage had been set for a fine winter’s day. I was inspired, and I could not wait to write about what I had seen.
|
|
|
|
|
 |
|
