Prosciutto-Wrapped Barbeque Jalapeno Poppers. And a Farm Party.

I almost titled this post “Been Farming Long?” because I figured I’m long overdue for a good face punching.

But plastic surgeons are crazy expensive these days, and I need to wash my hair later, so . . .

We went to a farm party!

At this dude’s house. Instead of asking if he needed help, I was like, “Hey will you hold my wine so I can take a picture of you? I can’t hold my phone and my glass at the same time, ya know!” I’m the sweetest.

Our super awesome friends own this quaint, cozy farm right outside of town, and every fall they host an annual chili party. It’s a lot of fun. Except they have bees and I’m scared. But they do have chickens! Which I’m only slightly nervous around. And they have a pond! Which I’m only semi-panicked about. But they have a corn field! Which I’m only a little bit petrified of.

My therapist says I’m making great progress in life.

It was a PERFECT day. High of 60ish. A warm sun. A chilly breeze. A crackling campfire. A half mile of fire logs. An old John Deere. Two babies following the Dow Jones Industrial average on Aaron’s phone. Beautiful day.

I made some prosciutto-wrapped BBQ jalapeno poppers for the party. They were gone .2394723 seconds after I set the plate down. But we’ll get to that in a bit. For now? Farm photos!

I can’t remember if this was before or after Natalie decided to become a famous acrobat artist and do a front-flip tumble off the bottom step and onto the ground. We had no idea she has such talent! One fluid motion, graceful, yet in a magical flash. The only thing that completely ruined her flawless performance was the whole bursting into tears at the end. I’m also guessing the judges would deduct points for landing on her head. I’m going to have a serious talk with her about this for later productions. We’ll get there, you guys. We’ll get there.

Look at these adorable tiny white houses with fire logs stacked next to them. They remind me of the song in Oklahoma between Ado Annie and Will. She sings to him, “Would you build me a house, all painted white, cute and clean and purty and bright.” And then Will sings, “Big enough fer two but not fer threeeee.” And then Ado Annie, “S’posin’ that we should have a third one.” Will, “He better look a lot like me.” Ado Annie, “Yer spittin’ image!” Will, “He better look a lot like meeeeee.” Aaron always changes the lyrics to, “You cheating whoooooore.”

That’s exactly what these houses remind me of.

Even after her 60-foot fall to the hard, rocky Earth, she’s a happy little baby earthworm puppy clam!

This was the babies’ first time eating chili. Like, full-on spoonfuls of meat, beans, tomatoes, WHAT HAVE YOU. They loved it! They ate all of mine, as a matter of fact. I went home starving. Little turds.

Let’s go inside for a bit, shall we? I need to refill my wine.

This is their incredible farm kitchen, complete with jars of dried goods, pastas, eggceteruh, eggceteruh, eggtereruh.

This is where you please serve yourself. I did. Oh, I did.

2938572414 gallons of chili!

You guys, I’m totally kidding.

It was 2938572415 gallons.

I tried to steal that yellow metal bin, but the cops came and threw me into the back of their car and I cried. So they let me go.

Then I tried to steal that airstream. But it was hard because I still had the handcuffs on from my previous felony.

I love farms. They’re the only place where junk is cool, hip art. I didn’t try stealing these window frames because the cuffs had broken through my skin and I was bleeding profusely.

Farm parties are dangerous.

Here are the chickens that I came a tad bit too close to. I was pretending to be totally cool with nature and animals because I had Natalie in my arms, so we walked closer and closer, then one of them bok’d and I almost barfed.

I swear we’re getting to the recipe, but would you just look at all that firewood!? WE DIDN’T START THE FIRE. IT WAS ALWAYS BURNING SINCE THE WORLD’S BEEN TURNING.

I Instagrammed this photo, but I just have to show you here. She seriously looks like she’s smoking a pipe, right?

Wait, is she?

And then this. And now I want 972356205682 more babies.

I spy a metal trashcan. Do you?

We watch so many murdery/forensic/crime shows, all I can think about is walking down that long beautiful grass path and finding a dead body. WHATISWRONGWITHME.

There’s nothing sweeter than a darling baby boy in a fuzzy ear hat trying to crawl into an open flame, is there?

TU.CK.ER.ED. OU.T.

After the heads got heavy, we headed home.

I’d also like to point out that Aaron does not have a d-bag mustache, although in every single ding dang photo I post of him, it looks like he’s sporting the worst decision ever.

You know how I lurve the tree photos.

Now, for the poppers! You’re like, OMGFINALLY.

We had a tooon of jalapenos in our garden, but they’re on the small side, so keep in mind that the kind you find in the store will probably be a little bigger. But it’s okay. You’re still a good person.

Take 15-20 jalapeno peppers, slice the stems off and cut them in half, lengthwise. Scrape out all the ribs and seeds. Stir the seeds into your baby’s bottle for a nice surprise. (oh my gosh I’m mostly kidding)

In a bowl, add half a block of softened cream cheese. Pour 2-3 Tbs. of your fave BBQ sauce in and stir stir stir. Start with 2 Tbs. Or even 1! It’s all up to your taste buds.

Then take 6-8 slices of prosciutto and stack them. Slice them lengthwise into 1/2-inch strips.

Spoon the cream cheese mix into a little plastic baggie and slice the tiniest hole in one of the corners. Then squeeze the cheese into each pepper half. Wrap a prosciutto slice around each pepper and place on a baking sheet.

Slide them all into a 400 degree oven for 10 minutes. Turn the pan and bake another 10, or until the prosciutto is nice and crispy and the peppers have softened.

Hi, mama. Eat up.

And there we have it! A farm, poppers, chickens, a chicken, tumbling artist baby, chili hoarders, hypercolor s’mores, airstreams, window frames, metal bins, cops, handcuffs, and the open land.

Oh, and probably a dead body like, fifty feet over that little hill.

The end.