I thoroughly enjoyed Midnight In Paris. Apart from being set in Paris, of all places, I loved the script, the costumes and the plot, and how sentimentalism – a potentially heavy and tired subject – was treated in an entertaining way without being trivialized.

I thought I knew why I enjoyed it so, until a dinner at Magali et Martin in Lyon, when the staccato notes of gypsy jazz came piping through the speakers as I dug into what is possibly the best mashed potatoes I’ve ever had. Tapping my feet in time, M remarked, “That’s what Woody Allen used in the movie”.

The penny dropped. It dawned on me that the whimsical, syncopathic beats of this genre were the real reason why I count the film as one of my top favorites of 2011, for its ability, above all, to transport me to a different time and mood.

It didn’t take long before we became owners of this Django Reinhardt compilation, enjoying it on a quiet Christmas Eve with my in-laws, each of us bobbing our heads in time as we ate. It was a trip down memory lane for them, and thoroughly enjoyable for me in a chilled, low-key way.

In order to accurately stay with this month’s Let’s Lunch song-inspired theme, I suppose I should be sharing a recipe for mashed potatoes instead of this pear tart, but since I’m pretty sure that you’ve got your own arsenal of potato recipes to turn to, I thought I’d take things a step further and play on the “Frenchness” of Django’s pieces by sharing this tart recipe. Since returning home, I’ve found his short, melodic tunes are my best companion in the kitchen, inspiring me to dance while cooking, generating an optimism to face any challenge that the stove or the oven may have in store. After all, there’s no better guarantee of a delicious meal than a happy cook. Right?

Pear Frangipane Tart

Adapted from Kate Hill’s A Culinary Journey in Gascony and Tartine. Makes one 9-inch tart.

In place of pears you could use other firm fruit like apples or quince. The amounts listed here always give me slightly more than what’s needed for a 9-inch tart pan. I save the dough scraps and the remaining frangipane at the bottom of the mixing bowl to make a small (about 5-inch) rustic fruit galette later in the week. Perfect treat for one.

Tart Dough

• 7½ ounces/ 210 grams all-purpose flour
• ¼ teaspoon salt
• 4½ ounces/ 125 grams unsalted butter, cubed and chilled
• 1 large egg
• 6 tablespoons very cold water

Directions

1. In a medium bowl, stir together the flour and the salt.
2. Add the cubes of butter and work them into the flour, with your fingers or a pastry cutter. Break down the cubes until you get small lumps of butter (about the size of peas) scattered throughout the mixture.
3. Mix the egg with two tablespoons of water, then make a well in the middle of the butter-flour mixture and add the egg.
4. Using a fork, slowly mix to incorporate the wet and the dry ingredients, adding water a tablespoon at a time until the dough starts to gather into a ball.
5. Set aside as you prepare the filling, or keep it tightly wrapped in plastic and refrigerated until needed. I’ve kept this dough for up to a week and it’s turned out fine.

Filling

• 5 ounces/ 150 grams unsalted butter, at room temperature
• 5 ounces/ 150 grams granulated sugar
• 5 ounces/ 150 grams almond meal
• 2 large eggs
• 3 teaspoons white rum or poire william
• ½ pound/ 225 grams Bartlett or Bosc pears, skinned, cored and thinly sliced

Directions

1. In the bowl of a stand mixer, beat the butter on medium speed until light and creamy.
2. Add the sugar and mix to combine. Add the almond meal, mix, then add the rum and the eggs, one at a time. Increase the speed to high and mix until light and fluffy, about a minute. Set aside until ready to use.
3. When you’re ready to bake the tart, preheat the oven to 425F/220C.
4. On a lightly floured surface, roll out the tart dough, adding just enough flour to prevent the dough from sticking to the rolling pin or the surface.
5. Roll out the dough until it’s a couple of inches larger than your pan, then carefully transfer it to the tart mold, gently pressing it into the bottom of the mold and against the sides. Pass your rolling pin over the top of the pan to cut away any dough overhang. Reserve the scraps for a small galette or bake it alongside the tart.
6. Using an offset spatula or the back of a spoon, spread the frangipane in an even layer over the base of the tart. You’ll want to use about three-quarters of the frangipane for this – any more and you risk it bubbling over in the oven.
7. Assemble the prepared pear slices on top in a concentric circle, and bake the tart, on a lined baking sheet, for 30 to 40 minutes. The tart is ready when the top achieves a consistent brown – as everyone’s oven is different, I’d recommend keeping an eye on the tart from the 30 minute mark onwards to avoid getting it too dark for your liking.
8. Leave the tart to cool to room temperature before slicing and serving.

This recipe is part of this month’s Let’s Lunch theme of music-inspired dishes. Before you go, check out my fellow lunchers’ posts below. And if you’d like to join us, go to Twitter and post a message with the hashtag #Letslunch, or post a comment below.

Ellise’s Tiger Cakes at Cowgirl Chef

Pat’s Purple Rice Pudding at The Asian Grandmother’s Cookbook

Lisa’s Honey Mac Wafers with Coconut at Monday Morning Cooking Club

Felicia’s Tommy’s Chili at Burnt-out Baker

Rashda’s Banana Bread at Hot Curries and Cold Beer

Cathy’s Chicken and Dumplings at ShowFood Chef

Patrick’s Quiet munchies at Patrick G. Lee

Steff’s Coconut Cake at The Kitchen Trials

Linda’s Cuban Black Beans at Spicebox Travels

Linda’s Gluten-free Thin Mints at Free Range Cookies

Another side effect of E.W.S. this time around too, is a stronger inclination towards saying less and doing more. Part of that came from a compulsive motivation to sort through mounds of paperwork ahead of tax season (oh joy!), egged on by the prose of Stephen Pressfield’s books, a call to action so compelling it would rouse even a sloth from its perch.

But this desire for silence, I have come to realize, was a product of our vacation as well. Stepping out of the Silicon Valley bubble to a place where people don’t check their phones every two minutes starts to have an effect on you after a while. It was strange, at dinner, to leave my iPhone out of sight (quelle horreur!!) and resist the urge to scratch that “itch” of pressing the home button every five minutes. It was a powerful lesson in being present, of lingering over a meal and taking one’s time. We’ve brought that practice home, and, five and a half weeks into 2012, I’m happy to say that the majority of our meals have been iPhone-free. And we plan to keep it that way.

All this is a rather roundabout way of reconnecting on the blog and an excuse for me to share some of the photos from the trip. Thanks to the iPhone’s excellent camera and apps like Instagram, the Nikon got a lot less attention than it deserved. I’m thinking twice now, about lugging it around on our trips, because, as I hope these photos show, these smartphone cameras do the job pretty well. In tandem with photo-sharing apps like Instagram, I’ve found that the iPhone has actually helped me become a better photographer (Penny sums it up perfectly in this post).

Bref, I won’t keep you from the photos any longer. Enjoy them and I’ll be back soon enough with a recipe. Promise!

Snowfall Asymmetry, Gordes A cook's tools Power, en route to Aix en Provence 24, L'isle Sur la Sorgue, France Market day, Apt, France Paella, Apt, France Ancient window, Gordes After dinner, Le Carton Rouge, Aix en Provence Weathered, L'isle Sur la Sorgue, France Cassis, the Mediterranean Sea Artist at work, Avignon, France Winter's fingers, Rouffach, France Lyon Busy chef, Magali et Martin, Lyon Window, Habsheim, France Anywhere but here, Niolon, France

And so it begins. Planning gifts and holiday cards. Ending farewells with “See you next year!”. Emptying the fridge, freezing whatever can be frozen, giving away everything else that can’t. Shelving 2011′s planner, putting up the 2012 calendar. Closing bank accounts, paying bills, putting the mail on hold, sacrificing sleep to finish projects, whatever the cost. A hectic rush to the finish line where the (cramped) space of an airplane seat awaits, free of the shackles of the Internet.

We leave in four hours for our vacation in France, and while I’m really excited, the full prospect of the journey hasn’t had the time to sink in. That’s partly because I’m still sitting here, blogging, trying to delay the inevitable task of packing that awaits. Ah, packing. It’s a good thing that M’s a wonder packer. Can you imagine how horrifying trips would be if I had married someone who was as inept at packing a suitcase as I am?

I shudder at the thought.

So this salad. It’s easy and nutritious to boot. I started experimenting with different grains this year in an attempt to wean ourselves off an over-reliance on dried pasta for weeknight meals. Thanks to some excellent vegetarian cookbooks out there, it was easy to start incorporating a bit of quinoa, farro or cous cous in vegetable dishes for a delicious one-pan meal. Discovering these grains opened up a new universe of quick meals, and while we’re still reaching for the Barilla pack every so often, it’s a lot less frequent compared to our pre-quinoa period.

This salad is a derivation of the kale stuffing from last year’s Thanksgiving dinner. Apart from being a reliable accompaniment to beef or lamb, it’s also well-suited to be tossed with your favorite grain for a quick lunch. In this holiday season where it’s easy to forget why it is that we’re braving relentless crowds or baking up a storm for Christmas gifts, this salad will give you pause to breathe, recharge and empower you to go back out there and tackle the holidays head on.

Kale, Cranberry and Quinoa Salad

Inspired by Dorie Greenspan’s Chard Stuffing recipe/ Serves 2 generously

This recipe features kale, but you could easily substitute any leafy winter green, like swiss chard for instance. Add a fried egg to dress things up, or, for your holiday feasts, leave out the grains and serve the kale to accompany your roasts.

Ingredients

• 2 cups water
• 1 cup quinoa, rinsed and drained
• 2 ounces/ 56 grams pine nuts
• 1/2 pound/ 260 grams kale
• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 medium shallot (about 2 ounces/50 grams) peeled and thinly sliced
• 3 ounces/ 85 grams dried cranberries
• 1 teaspoon chili flakes (optional)
• 1 teaspoon salt

Directions

1. Combine quinoa and water in a medium saucepan and cook over medium heat until all the water is absorbed, about 15 minutes. Stir the mixture about 10 minutes into cooking to prevent the quinoa from sticking to the bottom of the pot. Set aside.
2. In an oven heated to 300F/ 150C, toast the pine nuts until golden, about 5-7 minutes. Remove from the oven and let cool.
3. Remove the stems of the kale, then stack the leaves and thinly slice. Finely chop the stems as well.
4. Heat the olive oil in a large skillet over moderate heat. Add the onions and cook until translucent, about 2 minutes. Add the kale and the cranberries, stir, then leave to cook, covered, for about 5 minutes.
5. Add the pine nuts, chili flakes (if using) and salt, stir and leave to cook again, covered, for another 5 minutes. If the kale starts to stick to the pan, add some water, a tablespoon at a time. You want just enough moisture to create steam in the skillet, but not too much to give you a sauce.
6. Toss the kale mixture and quinoa in a medium bowl and serve immediately, or at room temperature.

Somewhere over New Mexico

Hello.

I hope you had a wonderful start to your holiday season

and,

I hope as well, that you don’t mind the gaping silence since the last post.

Morning light, Hyde Park, Austin

Truth is, the trip to Austin exceeded expectations in every way, and then some. Here I am, three weeks later, still decompressing and working through all the ideas, inspiration, anxieties, hopes, dreams and fears that came up during the week. It was intense, exhausting and powerful, and these words that I’m conjuring do little justice to express the depth of the experience.

As my silence showed, we didn’t have alot of time to post scenic “postcards from the road”. Every ounce of energy went into talking, doing, living and breathing all things photography, from ‘boring’ stuff like photo archiving and backup options to getting awestruck at a presentation of George Krause‘s work. The week was billed as a “spiritual and creative tune-up”, but oh, it was more than that. So much more. PhotoMuse was my coming out party – as a creative person. I came home realizing that I no longer wanted to be ‘theoretically creative’, to paraphrase Hal Fields in Beginners, that it’s time to stop living in my mental space of “If onlys” and start living in the world of “Whys, Hows and Why Nots”.

The "Penny Sandwich": Ed Zwadzki, Penny De Los Santos and Denise Woodward

When you spend an entire week within an ecosystem of creativity that pushes you beyond your limits, and in the process, understand yourself a little better, growth happens. Midway through the week, I realized that I had become more sensitive to the world around me. I started to slow down as I began to really *see* my environment, and to take my time with making pictures. I even started to say “make a photo” instead of “take a photo”. I finally understood, what it means when a photographer says “it’s about seeing”. Because what she really means, is that photography is about paying attention – to your subject, your environment, and to yourself, the photographer, to what disturbs and confronts you and piques your curiosity and fuels you. It takes training and constant, dedicated practice, but it’s a practice that’s not only about mastering the latest gear or software, it’s a practice that trains your eye and heart to be more sensitive, that trains you to open up and be more receptive to what the world has to offer, and to be patient while the process happens. It trains you to learn to tune in to yourself, to be comfortable when you’re uncomfortable, and to transcend that. Photography, is, ultimately, about the craft of getting in touch with yourself, your vision and what you have to say.

Sisters: Winifred Simon and Janet Sanders

No reflection on PhotoMuse would be complete without mentioning the talented group of people I had the fortune to meet. I realize that this starts to gild the lily of effusiveness in an already dramatic and gushing post, but believe me when I say that the words ‘talented’ and ‘generous’ barely touch the surface. In just five days, they showed me what a powerful photograph looks like, and what it means to be a part of a community, in a real and honest way. Considering my historical aversion to the ‘C’ word, its use in this context is no small thing. I saw it at work in Oregon, and I saw it at work here too, only this time I got to be a part of it, from beginning to end. And it continues, even today. The relationships forged over that week were seeds in fertile soil – for us as a group and as individuals – the best gift I received out of that week were the friends I made as well as the gift of seeing.

When Thanksgiving rolled around last week I thought about how far things have come in just one year, and how immensely grateful I am for all of it. Last year, I was celebrating the gift of being alive, and while its still relevant, I can’t deny that the biggest gift of 2011 has been the gift of community, whether it’s here, Etsy, Twitter, Instagram or on Facebook.

I’ll be back in the next couple of days with a light and easy recipe that will fuel you through the madness of holiday shopping and baking. Till then, have fun browsing through a slideshow of our work from the week, and a wider selection of images on my site. My project was to document the lives and stories of a local band, and photographing them in their sleep counts as the most outrageous thing I’ve ever done. So far.

Gathering, PhotoMuse 2011

After a rather calm and easy-going Summer, the last quarter of 2011 is turning out to be a rather hectic one, as I find myself hustling to wrap up the year before the holidays arrive. Fall has, so far, been full of trips, projects, new clients and challenges, all of which I love and thrive on, but which have also taken me away from blogging as frequently as I would have liked. I hope to make it up to you as best as I can in the coming weeks. I’m off to Austin on Sunday to spend a week immersed in photography with Penny, Scott and Lynn, and while there’s not likely to be many recipes coming out of that, I do plan on sharing a couple of snippets and images through the week, schedule-permitting. It’s going to be intense and fun, and my first time in Austin. I can’t wait.

Also, I’d like to take the chance to thank Saveur for featuring this blog as one of their “Sites We Love” profiles, as well as the UK’s Fork Magazine for including me in their blog round-up for their Christmas issue. If you’re here because of these recommendations, welcome, and I hope you stay a while!

The weather has turned, overnight, and it feels like we’re well and truly in winter. I’m sitting here with a fleece sweater, woollen socks and a warm cup of chai, resisting the temptation to turn the heater on. It’ll be fun to see how long that resolution lasts. I excitedly dusted off my leather boots for the first time last night, to welcome the first chilly rains of the season, and also in honor of our fourth wedding anniversary. Some folks may view the rain as dampener on festivities, but not for me. I’m excited about the changing seasons. As beautiful as Summer was, with her long, warm days, there’s something to be said for the comfort of Fall and Winter, with their earlier sunsets, woollen scarves, and the intimacy of gathering around the fireplace. In particular, I’m giddy with happiness that its brussels sprouts season again, and to be able to have the oven on without turning the whole apartment into a sauna. I’m relishing the introspection that shorter days bring, to reassess my priorities, and then hunker down and finish all the things that need to be done before sending off 2011. It’s a time for gathering around cosy dinner parties that stretch into the night, for sharing and reconnecting with those dear to us. It’s a time of comfort, and nothing says comfort better than a bowl of soup on a cold day. Doesn’t it?

Pumpkin Soup & Buttered Chanterelles

Serves 6, as an appetizer

This soup is the product of efforts to incorporate more pumpkin into our diet, as its a vegetable that’s still pretty foreign to me. Apart from roasting it and turning it into sweet desserts (which haven’t appealed to me…yet), soup’s the most accessible and convenient form factor for feeding (and comforting) us over a few meals. The Chanterelles were a flash of inspiration one evening, as I thought about potential toppings that weren’t nuts or croutons. We happened to have a host of them in our fridge, so I tossed them with some salted butter and sprigs of thyme in a pan, and the rest, as they say, is history. The chunks of Chanterelle add a soft, meaty texture to this creamy, luscious soup. I think it’s time for me to make another pot.

Ingredients

• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 medium red onion (3 to 5 ounces), peeled and diced
• 1 large leek (14 ounces/ 400 grams), trimmed and roughly chopped
• A bunch of carrots (about 14 ounces/ 400 grams), trimmed and roughly chopped
• 1 medium pumpkin (about 2 pounds/1 kilogram), peeled, deseeded and chopped into cubes
• 4 cups vegetable stock
• 1 cup whipping cream
• 1 teaspoon chili flakes
• 3 tablespoons/ 43 grams salted butter, softened
• 6 ounces/ 170 grams fresh Chanterelle mushrooms, cleaned and cut into 1/2-inch chunks
• 4 sprigs of thyme, leaves picked

Directions

1. Over medium heat, combine the oil and onions in a deep pot and sweat, about 3 minutes.
2. Add carrots and leek and stir, until translucent, about 5-7 minutes. Turn the heat to medium high, add the pumpkin and stock. Bring the pot to a simmer, then turn the heat to low and slowly simmer with the pot partially covered until the vegetables are tender, about 30 minutes.
3. While the soup is simmering, prepare the Chanterelles. In a small saucepan, melt the butter over medium high heat. When it starts to foam, add the mushrooms and thyme leaves, stirring quickly to mix, for about 5 minutes, until fragrant and tender. Set aside and keep warm until ready to serve.
4. Bring the soup back to medium high heat. Add the cream and chili flakes and bring to a boil, about 3 minutes, then take the pot off the heat and blend the soup using a regular blender or an immersion blender, carefully protecting yourself from splatters. If the soup’s too thick for your liking, add a few tablespoons of hot water until you get your desired consistency.
5. Season to taste and portion into individual bowls topped with a scoop of Chanterelles. Serve with warm bread or your favorite green salad.

Halloween’s not really my thing. I don’t do the whole dress-up thing very well, partly because I get really self-conscious about it. But this year, I think I may have found an activity that really gets me in the mood for this not-quite-a-holiday annual event: PUMPKIN CARVING!

A few weekends ago we decided to check out a local pumpkin patch to see what it was all about, for a lark. We trundled home with a hefty and auspiciously orange fruit which we promptly transformed into Ernie. Unfortunately, he didn’t last very long before developing a white fluffy inside and had to be thrown out. So we got another one to carve, which we christened Harry (above). But we still had a bunch of images from our short time with Ernie, so I thought it’d be fun to do a visual essay of sorts. Presenting: From Pumpkin to Ernie, With Love.

Happy Halloween!

The view from Penner Ash Wine Cellars at dusk

I don’t know about you, but whenever I hear the word “community”, I cringe a little, no matter how well-intentioned its usage. For me, the word has become a contrived tactic for persuading a group of people with shared circumstances to avoid conflict and get with the program. It took a weekend in Oregon to show me that it isn’t half as bad as I think it is, I just need to experience the right examples.

We spent the last day of our Full On Oregon weekend with a selection of the state’s artisans and chefs, learning about what they do, their philosophy and their stories. It was a trip down Oregon’s “Main Street” of food. From chocolate-making to preserving vegetables and meats to tea-tasting and ice-cream making, we got a glimpse of Oregon’s artisanal culture, one rooted in hard work, pride and a sense of connectedness.

I signed up for a tea tasting at Steven Smith Teamaker, the latest project by the founder of Tazo Tea specializing in small-batch, high quality teas. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect from a tea tasting, but when you’re presented with 12 different teas at once and sip and sniff as you go, it starts to grow on you and the game of ‘spot that flavor’ begins.

Led by Smith’s resident tea expert, Tony Tellin, we spent the next two hours talking about tea leaves, harvesting methods, packaging methods, the complexity of the tea supply chain, and the art of creating unique tea blends. Their Fez green tea, for example, features Oregon spearmint with hints of lemon myrtle for a Moroccan slant. My favorite of the lot, the Jasmine Silver Tip, places green tea leaves among freshly-picked jasmine buds for a concentrated fragrance that hits you each time you open a sachet.

We also had a crash course on the rituals of Chinese tea drinking complete with a traditional clay tea pot, cups and bamboo tray. Growing up, I had always wondered about their size – why couldn’t you just brew the tea in a bigger pot?

According to Tony, this was designed to provide a consistent supply of tea throughout the day. You’d start your day with the first couple of infusions that extracted the caffeine from the leaves. Then, as you refilled the pot, you’d get the flavor for a pick-me-up or a post-lunch break, without the caffeine to keep you up at night.

The store keeps about two weeks’ worth of inventory to guarantee the freshness of all the teas they sell. Because the staff love to talk about all things tea and want to help you find the perfect blend for your palate, a casual stop at their store may turn into a trip down the rabbit hole as you taste one tea after the other. With their cozy salon and tranquil bamboo courtyard in the back, it’s one of the more relaxing ways to spend an afternoon in Portland, and it’ll give your liver a break too.

Lunch was a casual, elegant affair at Kitchen Cru, a shared-use commercial kitchen and culinary incubator. Argyle Winery‘s Rollin Soles started things off with his cowboy humor and cork extractor, and a host of mischievous jokes in between, before inviting Linda, Georgia and Richard to demonstrate the correct way of unbottling sparkling wine to remove the yeast from each bottle. As is the case in all situations involving bubbles, an uncorking tool and a crowd, hilarity ensued as everyone tried to avoid being sprayed on.

Rollin Soles, Argyle Winery (left) Hilda & Hanna Jones, Abacela (right)

Catered by three James Beard-nominated chefs, we began lunch with glasses of Argyle’s award-winning bubbles and a selection of appetizers: mussels with smoked aioli (Scott Dolich), fried chicken sliders (Jenn Louis) and a charcuterie selection (Chris Israel) before embarking on a three-course meal paired with wines from Abacela.

Jenn Louis (Lincoln Restaurant, Sunshine Tavern)

There was Grilled Octopus with Mizuna, Cucumber and Pimenton, a Frikeh Salad tossed with Radicchio, Feta, Hazelnuts, Pickled Cherries and Borage, followed by Grilled Trout with Green Herb Sauce and Summer Squash. All locally sourced of course. The salad in particular, really stood out, not only for introducing me to another variety of whole grain to play with, but also for its combination of textures, colors and flavors. I mean, just look at those flowers. They’re too beautiful to eat!

Scott Dolich (Park Kitchen, Bent Brick)

Chris Israel (Gruner, Kask)

Our second artisan workshop of the day was with Kim and Tyler Malek of Salt and Straw, two cousins currently taking Portland’s ice-cream scene by storm by transforming Lochmead Farms’ organic full-fat cream into exotic flavors like Pear & Blue Cheese, Melon & Prosciutto and Brown Ale and Bacon, all made with local ingredients. You can read more about what Salt and Straw is all about on this piece I wrote for Etsy, but suffice to say that one shouldn’t pass up on the opportunity to sample their menu (and I mean the entire menu) while in Portland.

Kim & Tyler Malek, Salt & Straw

After priming us with their Sea Salt and Caramel ice-cream at lunch and a flight of their ice-cream flavors, Tyler gave us some insight into his recipe development process by having us taste some unusual flavor combinations that he’s tinkering with, like Chocolate, Strawberries and Cinnamon, and Chocolate, Lime and Scotch Bonnet peppers.

Their ice-cream is entirely cream-based (i.e., no eggs are used), but the Salt and Straw product is so rich it’s hard to tell the difference from egg-based ice-creams. This speaks to the high quality of ingredients used as well as the top-notch ice-cream machine that sits snugly in the Salt and Straw ‘research lab’ at the back of their store. As Tyler shared with me on my visit to their store the next day, a custard base interferes with the overall flavor of an ice-cream – spoken like a true purist on the search for the full expression of his ingredients.

After a brief siesta, we were ferried to dinner at the picturesque Penner Ash Wine Cellars in Willamette Valley. We arrived just as the sun started to set, which we hurried to capture before our final feast. As if our weekend wasn’t memorable enough, the fact that dinner had to be held in such a beautiful location made the evening more poignant.

Catered by Vitaly Paley and his team, dinner began with appetizers and (more) glasses of bubbly on the courtyard, a selection of fresh local oysters, and of course, our crabs. Then we had a four-course dinner of smoked salmon with arugula and mustard, a rabbit ravioli with bacon and chanterelles, a beef ribeye roll before ending the evening with a brioche savarin with wild plum and mascarpone.

Yes, we were very well-fed indeed.

It had been a long day, on this compressed visit to Oregon’s food universe where sharing is the name of the game, be it with a friend, stranger or colleague. At every turn, I was constantly reminded of how unassuming and generous Oregonians are. I met people who are the best in their field, doing what they love and do best, and all I can see is their passion and quiet pride for what they do, and a generous spirit that’s willing to pitch in and help a fellow winemaker/chef/preserver/guide/forager/chocolatier/brewer in their time of need.

I went to Oregon expecting nothing but a camera full of memories, and I was sent home realizing how interconnected we all are, how sometimes, we need to be generous with those who may compete against us somewhere down the line, simply because in helping each other, we help expand the universe of possibilities for each of us. The sense of community that Oregonians have, isn’t the touchy-feely kumbaya ‘community’ bandied about on ‘feel-good’ tv shows – it’s underpinned by a long-term view of where one wants to be in life, the kind of business environment or world that one wants to live in, and working towards that goal by helping others progress as well.

In the words of winemaker Alfredo Apolloni, who I sat next to at dinner, “Everyone helps everyone else out. By helping a fellow winemaker, I’m helping myself too, in the long-run. We’re all in this together.”

Thank you Travel Oregon for hosting me over this weekend. It was truly memorable and we’re already planning our next trip!

**I was in the midst of editing the images for this post yesterday when I learned that Steve Jobs passed away. I considered postponing the post out of respect, and also out of a strange heaviness of heart for someone I’ve never met. And then I realized that sticking to my plan would actually be the best way to honor the memory of such a talented and driven individual, one who never settled and always strove to be better. He will always be an inspiration.**

Portland’s airport is just like any other you’d find in America. Travellators take you from one gate to the other, there are the security screeners, Starbucks, Hudson’s News and the floors are carpeted in glaring colors and dizzying patterns. The entry into the city, however, is special. Crossing the Willamette River from the 84, the crest of the bridge breaks to present a city neatly tucked beneath hills of pine trees, a view so charming it takes your breath away. No gleaming skyscrapers or rolling plains here. And that’s when you know that Portland’s not your average American city. Its picturesque entrance is a prelude of the experience to come.

On that Full On Oregon weekend I was invited to, I had just enough time upon arrival to drop off my suitcase and grab my daypack before joining Nick, Liz and Stefanie on our roadtrip to Astoria, where we’d spend the next day crabbing and fishing on the Columbia River. The small town at the border with Washington state was the first European settlement on the West Coast, as well as the setting for movies like The Goonies, Stand By Me and Kindergarten Cop.

An hour and a half later, we were marvelling at the sweeping views of Washington and the Columbia River from the lobby of the Cannery Pier Hotel, an activity that continued when we got to our rooms. Built on the site of the former Union Fish Cannery, 600 feet into the river, the rooms look out on the Columbia River and the Washington-Oregon bridge. Mornings bring fog and the impressive sight of a giant ship passing right in front of your window. Evenings bring golden sunsets and seagulls flying overhead. I didn’t want to leave.

We were ferried in a 1945 Cadillac for our Brewers’ Dinner at the Fort George Brewery that evening, located at the original settlement site of Astoria founded in March 1811 by Captain Jonathon Thorn. The Fort George building was built in 1924 to house an automotive repair facility until it was abandoned in the 1990s. It underwent a massive renovation in 2005 and currently houses the brewery and the Blue Scorcher Bakery.

Chris Nemlowill started the brewery in 2007, with friend and fellow brewer Jack Harris and six brewing vessels that were trucked to Astoria from a defunct brewery on the East Coast. After encountering and surviving a tornado in Nebraska, they named their first IPA the Vortex, as “an effort to capture some of Nature’s intensity in every pint”. As a reflection of their immense popularity and growth, the brewery recently expanded their brewing operations with the purchase of a 30,000 square foot brewhouse adjoining the pub where they’ll be able to can their craft beers.

Our dinner that evening was a four-course affair, expertly crafted by resident chef Dana MacAuley who brought his French culinary training to bear on local ingredients. We began with Ahi Tuna with Wild Rice and Tomato Concasse, an outstanding course; the soft crunch of buttered wild rice providing just the right complement for flaky, just-seared tuna. This was followed by Boneless Chicken Thighs stuffed with Dates and Caramelized Onions, served with wilted spinach and housemade garlic sausage dumplings. The Housemade Jalapeno Sausage with Roasted Bell Pepper Gnocchi was a delight if not a little rich by the time we got to it, and the Coffee pot de creme to round out dinner was the icing on the cake. Thick enough to be creamy, it had enough coffee to hint at without the heavy tones of coffee liqeur. As he came out to tell us about each course, it was clear that Dana was more comfortable behind the scenes than in front of his audience. He had the air of a shy choir boy, piping up only when Chris prompted him to. It was an unassuming demeanour, one coming from a place of quiet satisfaction and pride, but not feeling the need to pipe up about it.

Ahi Tuna, Wild Rice, Tomato Concasse (left); Housemade Jalapeno Sausage, Roasted Bell Pepper Gnocchi (right)

The next morning, after delicious pastries and coffee, we headed for the dock where our guide David Johnson was in the midst of preparing the crab traps that we’d set before heading out to fish. Greeting us were chunks of raw tuna, salmon, sardines and two whole chickens to be placed across six traps. It certainly wasn’t the most appetizing sight first thing in the morning, but there was dinner to catch and there was no room for queasiness. Ok, maybe just a bit.

The boat was rather quiet and somber as we headed out into the dense fog. It was cold and grey, hardly the hot sunny day we had expected considering the stratospheric temperatures forecasted for that weekend. After casting out the crab traps at various spots, we settled at our first fishing stop, and waited.

After 30 minutes David navigated us to another spot just past the Oregon Coast Highway. By that time, the sun had come out, layers came off, we cast our lines and settled in to enjoy the warmth.

All of a sudden, Greg our Travel Oregon chaperone yelled with a spine-chilling intensity: “FISH!!!!!!! FISH FISH FISH FISHHHHHH!!!!!” As Nick’s line flopped up and down, David sprung into action, preparing his net while instructing Nick on what to do. Greg reeled in the rest of the lines so that the fish wouldn’t get tangled in them and the rest of us scrambled around figuring out where to stand and what to do.

To regulate and ensure a sustainable population of salmon in its rivers, the Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife spawn salmon in hatcheries every year. The adipose fins (the small fleshy fin between the dorsal fin and the fish’s tail) of these fish are clipped before they are released into the wild, in order to enable sport fisherman to distinguish between catchable and protected fish.

Our catch was a 12-pound silver salmon that had its tiny little fin intact, and so had to be returned to the water. But not before some photo opportunities.

After the excitement died down it was time for lunch, and to call it a day. We headed back to pick up our crab pots, hauling them up like real fishermen. Not. These traps are HEAVY! Especially when loaded up with Dungeness crabs!

Once on the boat, there was sorting to be done – any female crab or male crabs measuring less than 5¾ inches at their widest point had to be returned to the water. All told we got about 24 crabs, not bad for a few hours’ work of converting two chickens, tuna and salmon roe into dungeness crabs.

Waiting for our crabs to cook before transporting them

24 boiled dungeness crabs ready for dinner

Back in Portland, there was just enough time to chill before joining the rest of the Full On Oregon crew for a burger dinner catered by Gregory Denton (Metrovino) and Chris Carriker (The Gilt Club) on the rooftop of the Wieden+Kennedy building in downtown Portland. Serving up beverages were a host of six breweries from Eastern Oregon like the Mt Emily Ale House and the Mutiny Brewing Company. Not much of a beer-drinker myself, I stayed hydrated with the iced teas from Steven Smith.

Chris Carriker (left) & Gregory Denton (right)

The Metrovino Burger Slider: Painted Hills Beef, Fontina, and Fancy Sauce on a House-Made Sesame Bun

Complementing the burgers was a buffet of dishes featuring gnocchi with guanciale and tomatoes, a green salad and a crab salad drenched in a puckery lemon-mayonnaise dressing with herbs, radish and hints of pickles. I don’t need to tell you my favorite dish of the feast we had. I could have imagined things, but I’m pretty sure I detected a quiet pride in our fishing group as we tucked into dinner that evening. Although we returned without a salmon in the cooler, the crabs were no less delicious, and we had our stories to add to the tapestry of experiences that weekend. That was rewarding in itself.

**Disclosure: I wasn’t paid for the trip, but my meals, accommodation and transport for the weekend were covered by Travel Oregon. Also, look out for part two of the weekend coming up….soonish. Once I wade through the other 500 images, that is.**

Ginny Cummings, Drakes Bay Oyster Company

Our love for oysters is very young, one that started, on a whim and a prayer, at Elliot’s Oyster House in Seattle over two years ago. I’ve never been convinced about oysters, but Seattle changed our minds, thanks to a confluence of factors: Price (it was happy hour), Location (the oysters were from Washington) and Weather (we visited on an especially sunny and warm weekend). Despite my anxieties about potentially leaving a whole platter of oysters untouched, we promptly ordered a dozen bivalves once we got two coveted seats at the bar, and prayed.

I’ll never forget that first oyster. It was unlike anything else I had ever had – cold, slippery, briny, soft and fleshy all at once, orchestrating a palatable magic that lasted long enough to baptize me into the cult of oyster lovers. I had finally seen the light.

This epiphany opened a whole new universe of recreational eating for us. One of our favorite weekend activities is driving up to Tomales Bay for a leisurely feast at The Marshall Store or the Hog Island Oyster Farm, especially when oyster-loving friends visit. A pair that came last winter provided the perfect excuse for a weekday jaunt with the sole purpose of making small dent in Hog Island’s inventory.

While Tomales Bay is the default stop for oyster-lovers in the Bay Area, there’s another oyster destination not too far away, serving up treats that are bigger, saltier and brinier than their Tomales Bay cousins. I’m talking about the Drakes Bay Oyster Company in the Point Reyes National Seashore, a designated wilderness space managed by the National Park Service. The drive itself is worth the trip – passing the small town of Inverness on the Point Reyes peninsula, the winding roads through the park leaves one with a sense of freedom and adventure that comes from abandoning civilization. Which isn’t far from the truth.

Owned by local rancher Kevin Lunny and his siblings – brothers Bob and Joe, and sister Ginny, who oversees the day-to-day operations – the farm spans over 1,000 acres of water in Drakes Estero, producing 500,000 pounds of shucked oyster meat a year, representing 40 percent of California’s shellfish production. The farm is also home to the state’s last operating oyster cannery, which began in 1935 with the first owners. It is an idyllic place to work, nestled among low rolling hills and, in the mornings, shrouded in fog. There’s a definite ambience of ‘wilderness’ here, with no other indications of human activity in sight. Apart from the boats coming back from the hanging racks, happy Mexican tunes blaring from the radio and the frenetic unloading and sorting activity that happens while the tide goes out, there is silence.

For a farm of their scale, the Lunnys run a tight ship with a team of 30, eight of whom live on the farm. Most employees have been there for years, some, for over two decades. Ginny estimates that the team represents more than 200 years of oyster farming experience combined.

Like most farmers, an oyster farmer’s role is that of a facilitator. But unlike vegetable or livestock farming, oysters require a whole new degree of involvement altogether. From seed-setting to harvesting, oysters need to be helped along the way.

At Drakes Bay, the oysters are spawned in 68F/ 20C water at the on-site hatchery as the water temperature in the Estero is too cold. Once they develop into the larvae stage, they’re moved to bags or hanging racks depending on the final product being cultivated. Individual oysters destined for restaurants and consumption on the half-shell are grown in mesh bags that protect against predators like Bat Rays.

Individual oysters in mesh bags; A cluster of oyster spats (baby oysters) on a wire ready for the racks

Oysters destined for canning are grown in clusters using two ‘cultch’ methods, where a larva attaches to a material (also known as the ‘substrate’) and grows to market size. The first involves placing hollow french tubes with grooved surfaces in a tank for larvae to attach to. The second method, which is more labor-intensive, uses a single oyster shell as its substrate on which larvae attach. Each shell is then strung onto wires, separated by a five-inch plastic tube and suspended on racks in Drakes Estero.

It takes about 18 to 24 months for a seed to develop into a market-sized oyster, aided by farm workers throughout the process, from hatchery to tank, to bag or to racks. If you’ve ever wondered why oysters are so expensive, now you know why.

Like most farmers in California, the Lunnys have been dealing with their share of big challenges since acquiring the farm. Because of its location in a designated ‘wilderness’ space, the farm’s operation became subject to a “right of use” permit when Drakes Estero became a part of the Point Reyes National Seashore in 1972. With the existing permit due to expire in 2012, Kevin’s wish to renew it sparked off a clash of wills with environmentalists wanting to keep the Estero free of commercial farming activities. The National Park Service undertook a review of the farm’s environmental impact last October and are due to publish their findings this Fall.

In the meantime, the farm has had to make do with the existing structures and facilities on the site, as any improvements or construction activities require approval from the Park Service. After all these years of battling to keep the farm alive, frustration and anger have turned into a quiet, hopeful resolve.

“We, as citizens of California and the United States, we need to find a way to coexist with our environment,” Ginny shared. “We need food, there’s no doubt about that, and we need to find a way to take care of our environment. To make sure that the water’s ok, the birds are ok, the mammals are ok…we need to find a solution that works for everyone.”

As a farming family that’s been raising first, dairy cattle and now, organic, grass-fed beef on their nearby ranch for three generations, the Lunnys are no strangers to the practice of environmental stewardship. Perhaps the lesson from this dispute isn’t for them, but for us, to ask the difficult questions about food production and environmental conservation. Where do we draw the line? How much is too much?

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Osteria Stellina’s Oyster Pizza

Courtesy of Chef Christian Caiazzo, reprinted with permission from Oyster Culture; makes two eight-inch pizzas

Oyster Culture is a newly-published book documenting the history and evolution of oyster farming in West Marin that was a helpful resource in the writing of this post. Apart from casting an anthropological eye on the industry and its importance to the area’s social and economic fabric, the second half of the book includes a host of recipes from local oyster farms and restaurants, like this pizza recipe from Osteria Stellina in downtown Point Reyes Station. Oysters and leeks are such a dreamy combination, but I personally found the dough in the recipe to be a little too bread-y for my liking, so try this out and feel free to substitute with your favorite pizza dough recipe if it strikes your fancy.

Pizza Dough

• 4 cups “00″ Caputo or other high-protein baker’s flour
• 1 cup cold water
• ½ ounce yeast
• 1 tablespoon salt

Directions

1. Stir the yeast and water together in a mixing bowl and let it sit for five minutes. Add 1 cup of flour slowly, stirring to incorporate, and let it sit for another five minutes. Add the salt and mix quickly to incorporate, then add the rest of the flour.
2. Turn the dough out onto a floured surface and knead until smooth (or you could beat it with the dough hook of your stand mixer at medium speed for about 10 to 15 minutes). If the dough feels too wet, add more flour in small increments until you get a smooth dough.
3. Let it rest on the counter for five minutes then place in a covered plastic container. Refrigerate for 4 hours or until the dough has doubled in size.
4. Remove the dough from the refrigerator and divide it into two small rounds. At this stage, you could freeze the portioned dough in a well-sealed plastic container to use for another time, just bring it back to room temperature and let it proof for another two hours before cooking.
5. If using the dough immediately, roll the portioned rounds into balls and let the dough rise again for two to four hours at room temperature until it has doubled in size.

Leek Sauce

• 3 tablespoons butter
• 1 tablespoon olive oil
• 3 leeks, halved, washed and sliced into ¼-inch crescents
• salt and pepper to taste
• 2 sprigs of thyme, roughly chopped
• 1 tablespoon of Italian parsley, washed, dried and chopped
• 2 cups of heavy cream

Directions

1. Melt the butter and oil in a skillet over medium heat. Add the leeks and cook until soft and translucent. Season with salt and pepper.
2. Add the thyme and parsley then turn off the heat and add all the cream at once. Place the skillet back on low to medium heat and cook until the cream thickens to a sauce-like consistency, about ten minutes. The sauce will thicken more as it cools, so don’t worry about getting it overly thick.
3. Set aside to cool.

To cook

• ¼ cup olive oil
• Salt and pepper
• 2 tablespoons Italian parsley, roughly chopped
• 1 teaspoon crushed chili flakes
• 16 oysters, shucked and set aside outside of their shells

Directions

1. Preheat the oven to 550F.
2. Flatten the pizza dough into eight-inch rounds and lightly brush each of them with olive oil, covering the entire surface area of the pizza. This helps the crust get crispy.
3. Sprinkle each round with salt and pepper, 1 tablespoon parsley and chili flakes. Using the back of a spoon, gently and quickly spread the leek mixture on each pizza leaving a half-inch gap from the edge.Place eight oysters on each pizza, one for each slice.
4. Slide the pizzas immediately into the oven or on a pizza stone. Bake until crispy, about 8 to 10 minutes.
5. Garnish the pizza with the remaining parsley and serve immediately.

Bagged oysters on the shores of Schooner Bay

Last weekend was pretty special. Travel Oregon hosted* a bunch of food writers and bloggers for a weekend extravaganza of crabbing, fishing, foraging, rafting, eating, drinking, preserving, cocktail-making, and more. The state has always been on my ‘To-Visit’ list, especially as it’s right next door to us, and this trip was the perfect opportunity to sample a bit of everything it had to offer.

I went fishing and crabbing for the first time, on the Columbia River (which runs between Oregon and Washington), and loved every minute of it. I sampled local beers in Astoria, and, though not much of a beer drinker, found one (the Golden Goose) that was actually delicious. I got to know some really wonderful people, and connected with others who, up till then, were just Twitter avatars within the Beyond the Plate universe. And, of course, I ate really well, from granola to Savarin, cappuccino to Tempranillo, there wasn’t a waking hour when we weren’t tasting, comparing, quaffing, sniffing or talking about food or drink. I’m still processing the memories (and images!) from a whirlwind trip, so look out for a longer post on that in the coming weeks. But I couldn’t wait to dive into the many images from the weekend, so here are a few of my favorites to share.

*Disclosure: I wasn’t paid for the trip, but my meals, accommodation and transport for the weekend were covered by Travel Oregon.

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And now, on to the meat of this post. I picked a winner for the giveaway using Random.org, excluding comments that didn’t answer the question posed. There were 59 eligible comments, and the winner is #53: Francesca Holland. Congratulations Francesca! I’ll be in touch soon on how to claim your prize. Thanks to everyone who participated and shared your stories!