This was Skylar’s idea of happiness at Lambert’s Cove on Christmas day. Pretty much sums it up how simple it can be.
Happiness, health and strength to everyone in 2010!
Food surprises on a stormy day
•November 5, 2009 • Leave a Comment
Steaming hot sourdough wheat. Soft, salty butter lurking.
We just wrapped up an evening eating and drinking an intensely local meal that we barely had to prepare, plan or cook. And it was practically free. When we got home from work, we really had no idea what to eat for dinner (this rarely happens). Yet somehow, the world looked kindly upon us and we now sit nourished, happy, and very thankful. All of this on a dark evening of the first rainy, windy storm of the fall. So, how did it come about?
It’s baaaaack.
It started this morning with our landlord Tim dropping off a bottle of 2007 St. Innocent Villages Cuvée Pinot Noir at our door at 8:30am as a thank you to us (actually, it was just Sarah) for cleaning out all of the gutters on the house this weekend. (For some reason, Sarah loves to get up on the roof and dig through the mucky leaves – I do not ask why.) The wine needed a little time to breathe, but it was really smooth and exceptionally flavorful with a backbone of pepper, anise and herb flavors. Yum.
Sampling the local terroir is fun.
Next, I cut about a dozen baby red potatoes that we picked up on Sunday at a farm in Scholls on our way back from a weekend of wine tasting, cycling, eating and camping in the Willamette Valley. On Saturday, we rode 50 miles with four other friends from Champoeg State Park, along the Willamette River, up through Newberg and twice over the flanks of Bald Peak on Chehalem Mountain on a beautiful, sunny, warm and dry Halloween day. Pretty amazing time and a perfect fall weekend.
So, anyway, we have these potatoes…
…and a yellow onion that I rough chopped, tossed with a little olive oil, salt and cracked black pepper and roasted in an increasingly hot oven for about 40 minutes. I started them around 425° and every 10 minutes or so increased the heat by 25 degrees, stopping just short of broiling them for the last 3-4 minutes. Crisp, dry and so satisfying.
The kicker to this evening happened as we had literally just finished our plates of potatoes and onions when our doorbell rang. Our doorbell hardly ever rings, but never at 8pm and especially not on a windy, rainy night. Luckily it wasn’t actually Halloween or we may have been a little spooked. I turned on the front light and opened the door to see our new neighbor Tim holding a basket of hot – not warm, hot – loaves of the most beautiful sourdough wheat bread. Apparently he likes making bread and had just made a batch to give to his new neighbors. We like bread. A lot. We thanked him profusely and practically ran to the kitchen to slice into it and start eating. (We finished half of the loaf in about ten minutes.)
I had to snap a few pictures once we realized that two Tims had dropped off two treats to us today. I’d like to say that’s how we always roll here in Portland, but even this was an especially cool experience. Good people, those Tims. Thanks! In all, a dinner of fresh and local potatoes, local pinot, and bread literally made next door. You really can’t beat that on a wet Thursday night. Or a dry Tuesday. Or a sunny Sunday. Sometimes the world does smile and if you’re in the right place at the right time, you get to see and experience it in some unique ways.
Delivered right to our front door. Wow.
Chanterelle hunting in the Coast Range
•October 27, 2009 • Leave a Comment
Pacific golden chantarelle fresh from the Coast Range – 10.25.09
Sunday morning arrived in typical late fall Oregon fashion: cool, gray and damp. Perfect weather for taking a 45-minute drive west into the Coast Range, drive four miles from the main road into the state forest, find a spot along the dirt road to park and start chanterelle hunting. The Pacific Golden Chanterelle, to be exact. A beautiful, tasty mushroom that is in season roughly from October – December in areas dominated by evergreens like Douglas fir and hemlock, moist conditions with mossy cover, and typically more prevalent on slopes.
It took a bit of practice to differentiate the golden-yellow mushrooms from the vast scattering of yellow, orange and red leaves, but after some time you kind of just get into a trance and walk – really slowly – through the woods. It wasn’t necessarily a quiet walk in the woods with distant rifle fire, chainsaws, and ATV motors breaking the silence, but that’s the beauty of publicly-protected lands – bounty for everyone to enjoy and the resources are managed in a way that provides recreation to a wide diversity of user groups.
Although it wasn’t a place you would be for a peaceful stroll, once you’re in that zone you might as well be on another planet. It’s true – you can really get lost, literally lost, hunting for mushrooms. Check this article from yesterday’s NYT about the Russians who every year get lost in the trance of the hunt.
It happens every mushroom season. Russians are passionate about gathering mushrooms, an ancient pastime they call the “quiet hunt,” and routinely become so hypnotized that they get hopelessly lost. Regional search-and-rescue teams fan out on foot or in helicopters, occasionally enlisting tracking dogs or parachute jumpers, and newspapers retell their stories with gusto. –
“A Hypnotizing Hunt Leaves Russians Bewildered.”
Fortunately, we didn’t get lost. We were walking so slowly, we barely covered more than 2-3 miles of woods. But it was oddly relaxing in the way that fishing is. Finding your quarry by scanning the vast expanse of water for the smallest ripple or splash…in this case, the smallest hint of golden-yellow peeking from under some moss or leaves or downed tree trunk. And once you see them, there are bound to be several in a small area. You drop to your knees and gently pull the mushroom from the soil and place it in your paper bag in your choice of carriers (I took a reusable shopping bag while Thom, Alison and Sarah chose buckets).
We gathered about 4-5 pounds in about 2.5 hours. At $16-18 per pound in the market, that’s a good day’s work. We gathered enough that we’ll have four mushroom-heavy dinners this week before we run out. And since they are highly perishable – and best eaten fresh – we cleaned all of them on Sunday and have had some every night.
Heated in a very hot and dry pan, allow the water the cook out (and keep pouring the excess water off (about 2-3 times) to avoid sogginess), add a splash of dry white wine and a few pats of butter, salt and fresh ground pepper and be prepared to, once again, get lost in the mushroom hunt.
Bingo!
Bonus find: a rare but choice cauliflower mushroom
The results of our labor.
Check out more pictures from the mushroom hunt HERE.
PDX. Stumptown. Rip City. Portland.
•October 23, 2009 • Leave a CommentThis is awesome on so many levels with well-chosen and beautiful shots. And the audio contribution is also purely Portland: March Fourth Marching Band – one of our favorite local bands…and easily the best live show in town. Produced this fall by Sockeye Creative for Travel Portland, this video is a love letter to an amazing city – the City of Roses. Enjoy!
Tasty memories & birthday presents
•October 21, 2009 • Leave a CommentJust finished the second of two pizzas that I received in the mail for my birthday from Chris, Renée and my god-daughter Lavery in Massachusetts. Three of my most favorite people in the world (about to be my favorite four!) sent me these pizzas from my most favorite pizza joint in the world: Charlie’s Pizza in East Wareham, MA.
Chris and Lavery drove down from Boston (1.25 hours each way) on a weekend day before my birthday in order to get these special treats to me. Chris froze them, packed them with a few of those blue gel freezer packs, and sent them off to me in Oregon. They arrived by priority mail a few days and over 3000 miles later still cold.
Sarah and I fired up the oven to 450, popped them on the pizza stone, and got those incredibly thin and tasty crusts (with just enough cheese – but not too much) hot and bubbly and was transported back to some wonderful memories that these pizzas represent. I couldn’t begin to count how many times – especially how many memorable times and special occasions – I’ve eaten at Charlie’s, but it’s amazing how certain tastes can immediately transport you into another moment and place.
THANK YOU Chris, Renée and Lavery for helping make this happen and for one of the better birthday presents I’ve ever received. I must say that having the actual tastes of home from the opposite coast delivered to your front door is almost a ridiculous luxury…but one that I am happy to continue indulging. Keep ‘em comin’!
Thin, crispy, understated awesomeness – 10.21.09
If you’re ever wondering what to get me for my birthday…
Transitions
•October 14, 2009 • Leave a Comment
Farmer’s market harvest – 11.2008
From bright colors to a more monochrome landscape, autumn is a time for changes to the simpler side of life. From the fall issue of Edible Portland is this nice meditation on the season:
Fall is a transition – from green to ocher, juicy to crisp, the glut of summer to the restraint of winter. At first , summer and fall blur: September explodes with plump, juicy, swollen foods such as tomatoes, eggplants and peppers that threaten to rot on the vine before we can ferry them into our stomachs. In the last waves of heat, zucchinis balloon bigger and bigger, like cartoon creatures.
Soon the evenings chill, fruits and vegetables slow their pace, and we have the chance to take measure of our land’s wealth. In these moments, stash away like a squirrel for the darker days ahead. Fill your cupboards with dry beans. Roast pans of tomatoes and peppers for sauce or salsa to can or freeze. Pickle anything fresh and firm – beets, cucumbers, turnips, cauliflower.
In mid-autumn, foods become sturdier. Hidden in thick skins and dense with starch, produce smells less floral and more like the earth. Gather wild mushrooms; accumulate a cellar of winter squashes and sweet potatoes; visit nearby orchards to pick your own apples, pears, quinces, walnuts and hazelnuts.
Without heat in the air, we turn to our meals for warmth. We enter the season for thick sauces, gravies and soups. The cold encourages celery, fennel, cabbage and Brussels sprouts. With the first frost, greens grow sweet; migrant birds and native bees disappear; spiders build ever-more intricate webs. During late fall, we gather inside rather than frantically buzz outdoors. Take more time to cook. Eat more richly. Slowly, unhurriedly, feast.
Harvest season
•October 11, 2009 • Leave a Comment
Our little backyard pumpkin
At this time of the year, it’s hard to avoid the change of the season – from shortened days, colder breezes, the sound and smell of fallen leaves, and the frequency of wool clothes in the daily rotation. My birthday is October 2nd and so as a child, I never considered summer ‘really’ over until my birthday. Now, ten days from that figurative turning point, I’m ready to concede that summer is really over. There are too many leaves on the ground and too many extra layers of clothes on my body in the morning for me to avoid it.
However, the counterpoint of these endings is that this is the harvest season. A collection of the sun’s energy in all of the foods we store up for the winter and enjoy in various forms is a way to remember all of those sunny, warm, long days. Perhaps even a distant memory already, but memories that come flooding back in the first taste of a preserved tomato or a smear of pesto. Being so fortunate to be in Portland and so close to rich, productive, active agriculture, there are many ways of giving thanks for the bounty, recognizing the hard work and dedication of the farmers and the tradition of their family’s stewardship of the land, and of just getting out to see the land close-up.
This weekend I was able to do a number of these things and in doing so made peace with the transition into autumn’s shorter days and colder mornings. And for that I give thanks.
Harvest Century – calm, cool morning – 10.10.09
On Saturday, we rode the 75-mile route of the Harvest Century with four other friends. We started around 7:45am in Hillsboro at the Washington County Fairgrounds and made a large loop through some of the most beautiful farmland, rolling hills, hollows and valleys that I’ve ever seen. A bicycle’s perspective allows you to smell, hear and literally be closer to the land. (Catching some fertilizer mist in the face from a tractor working near the road around mile 72, on the other hand, was a little too close for me.) It was a bit windy and never got above 60 degrees, but the sun was out, it was dry and the Rogue beer at the end helped make everything even better than it already was.
Check out more pics from the ride HERE.
Final tomato harvest before the first frost hits – 10.11.09
This afternoon I grabbed the clippers and did what I’ve been hesitating to do for about two weeks now: harvest the last tomatoes of the season from the two plants I tended all summer from short, little plants to the formidable greenery they became. Planted in June (a little late), the empty bed outside our back door was quickly transformed into a green oasis. Now, it’s empty again after I took the last of the tomatoes and snipped the stalks. Portland’s summers are plenty sunny and warm, but one of the things I’ve learned is that there are always a bunch of tomatoes that never ripen because it gets cool fairly quickly at the end of the summer.
But there are plenty of things to do with the hard green fruit…some better than others. The other night I tried grilling them and the results were not great. They’re super tart and they need more than just direct, intense heat to transform those sugars and acids into something palatable. This month’s Portland Monthly has a recipe for tomato conserva – a kind of spiced tomato relish – that sounds intriguing. I think I’m going to tweak the recipe a little bit and add a lot of basil (another of the final harvests today) to give it a decidely bright and summery taste.
Check out the article and the recipe HERE.
Hardy basil – bound for tomato conserva and pesto – 10.11.09
Finally, I pass along a story from last Wednesday’s New York Times entitled “Restoration Harvest” by Timothy Egan from his column American West Politics. It’s a good reflection of the reality of the Pacific Northwest’s bounty and plentiful sources of local foods (and partially the inspiration for this post). But Egan doesn’t just wax poetic about the season – instead, he highlights some of the discrepancies of that bounty. Mainly, that many of these valleys would not be so productive if it weren’t for the strong impacts of irrigation technology and fertilizers and the industrial-agriculture machine. All of which lead to increased changes for food borne illness and environmental degradation. And so, while this is a season for harvesting the sun’s energy in all of the tasty, nourishing types of local food, it’s also an important time to remember how many things can and will go wrong when the land is not managed sustainably and responsibly. Below is a condensed selection of quotes from the story.
A restorative of sorts is at hand this time of year. Barely 1 percent of all Americans work the land year-round as farmers, but still something in us needs a harvest. Every now and then, we have to see our food, if only to preserve the illusion that this good earth can keep us well.
…
In the romance of an October day, all of it seems like Eden in an age of warehouse burger peril. All of it seems like it fits — sustainable and local, to use those drab words that people insist on attaching to good food from somebody you know.
But this image is somewhat illusory. The Yakima Valley is a miracle of manipulation. It would grow little but sage and scrub brush without its network of irrigation ditches and pipes, draining water off the Cascades.
And these fruit types: many of them were hatched in labs. In this valley, even a hobbyist can play Apple God with grafts of genetically superior species. That fresh-picked fruit may look as local as Mount Adams, but apples originated in Kazakhstan. The only one native to the United States is the crab apple.
…
There are more than 70 million cases of food-borne illnesses a year in this country, resulting in 5,000 deaths. Leafy vegetables — that’s you, bundle of supermarket spinach, and you, pre-washed lettuce — are the leading culprits, outside of meats, according to a study released this week by the Center for Science in the Public Interest. Just a few years ago, bagged baby spinach was said to cause the death of three people, and severe illness in 200 others.
Fruit is less troublesome, because it hangs above soil that can contain pathogens.
How much of the danger from leafy vegetables can be blamed on the industrial model that produces cheap calories I don’t know. But as consumers follow Michael Pollan’s advice to get to know our food producers, we will learn to see the processed burger and the industrial vegetables for what they are — cheap global commodities that carry some risk.
The best antidote for such a thing is to see, touch and experience food as it comes off the fields. As imperfect as this harvest picture is, it satisfies a need that has never bred out of us as people.
