Rural Eating

Making Progress, Moving Slowly

2012-03-31T20:32:00.000-07:00

A long-lasting project comes to fruition.

My first cookbook due out on May 15.

For years, I convinced myself that I was good at multitasking. Even when I became a mother, I believed that I thrived on doing many things at once and that my success and domestic happiness depended upon it.

This last year has taught me otherwise. I can only do one thing well at a time. And as I've gotten older, I realize that doing anything well is more important than trying to do it all.

I go slowly, deliberately--painstakingly at times. I am learning to accept this fact about myself and perhaps in time may come to honor and even cherish it.

I've been idle here at Rural Eating for the past month because I have been unable to multitask. What has occupied me is the preparation for the arrival of my very first book. That's the cover of the cookbook I've written all about grassfed beef in particular and meat cooking techniques in general. It was two years in the making.

Today, I received one of the only copies (as yet) of my very own real hardbound, glossy-paged book. Before I unsealed the padded envelope sent from the publishing house Running Press and the hands of my editor, Geoffrey Stone, I circled and sniffed it like a weary animal. I felt so afraid of being letdown by the finished book. I feared it would not represent the monumental labors, care and feeding that went into its making.

So, I asked my husband Benjamin to open it for me and preview it. Then I grilled him: Was it heavy? Were the pages thick? Did it feel substantial?

Yes, he told me. "It's a beautiful book."

Still, I hesitated (going slowly) until I read the email from my agent, Sarah Jane Freymann who had just received her own copy. She wrote, "I can't tell you how impressed I am with every aspect of it--the look of it and all the information it contains. This is a modern classic."

Her note gave me the courage to slip the book from its envelope at last. I closed my eyes as I held it for the first time. I liked its weight and the fabric textures of the covers. So, I took a peek and flipped it open to see the gorgeous end papers, the vivid recipe photos, the hand-drawn illustrations. I stood there and I actually started reading...

As I move onward, I hope that I can learn to trust myself more, too. I am pleased and proud to have created--in communion with a host of committed people--a work of quality. I hope you like it, too.

Announcement: Soon, I'll be moving from this blog space to a new and improved author website. This Rural Eating blog will be integrated into the site and will contain better photographs, more recipes (some sneak peeks from Pure Beef) and new content, so stay tuned for news of the launch this week.

Less Is More

2012-02-29T09:54:00.001-08:00

It's not so easy keeping things simple.

Avocado in snow

I know I'm not the only one suffering from the 80/20 syndrome. On any given day, 80 percent of what I hope to accomplish remains undone.

I've started to picture my mass of projects being bulldozed from one calendar day to the next as a way of lightening my mood about it all. I hate to think that feeling perpetually overwhelmed is the bane of modern life.

Or is it a choice?

Last week, I got to step off the treadmill on an overnight trip to the Imnaha River and the cabin of my wondrous friend Pam. The brown austere and forbidding-looking canyons were not beautiful to me when I first moved here in 2001. I preferred green trees and snow-capped peaks. But I've learned to love the river canyons, the basalt cliffs that are nature's cathedrals, the spring blossoms and shoots sprouting 3000 feet below my home.

Also, I've learned that these gorges leading to Hell's Canyon are magical. Time stops, or at least slows down to walking pace. Think about that: ambling, not rushing, and you just start breathing more deeply, don't you?

Naturally, such tranquility is not everyday fare. But mealtimes are one place to begin. Take this avocado, which was my lunch at 2 p.m. today. Amazing how that giant pit creates a cradle for the perfect amount of vinaigrette to eat with a spoon.

Imnaha River from Pam's cabin

Would you believe that I was once served this at a French friend's home in Paris? Yes, that Paris.

Casual fare, for sure, but how simple and yet how elegant is that? (It so happens that it was in France circa 1986 that I tasted my first avocado. I know: deprived East Coast girl.)

"Do you always cook like this?," people ask me after one of my cooking classes.

No, sometimes I cook like this, or not at all. Sometimes, like tonight, it's just soup. I believe in soup and that we should all eat more of it, serve it to company so that we'll all ratchet down our expectations and eat better for less with less.

Maybe with a half avocado with its demitasse cup of vinaigrette as an appetizer.

Recipe: Tomato Vinaigrette

Recipe: Tomato Vinaigrette

2012-02-29T09:53:00.001-08:00

I use my own canned tomatoes to make this dressing for a change up from my standard (sometimes bored and tired) balsamic. It saves me from breaking down and buying pallid winter tomatoes. (If you're bothered by having an open can of tomatoes leftover, use the rest to simmer and mash with 1 clove of garlic until thick for a ready-made pizza sauce.)
Makes 1 pint

3 canned tomatoes, drained
3/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1/4 cup red wine vinegar
1 garlic clove, minced
1/8 teaspoon salt

Put the tomatoes, olive oil, red wine vinegar, garlic and salt in a blender. Puree until smooth, transfer into a pint jar and store in the refrigerator for up to 1 month.

The tomato gives the dressing a lovely persimmon color and keeps the oil and vinegar emulsified for quite a while. Use it as a salad dressing or veggie dip.

Frozen Green Beans' Salvation

2012-02-16T23:12:00.000-08:00

Are you dying for something green?

It's the dead of winter and you're tired of tasteless imported lettuce, green cabbage, leeks and Brussels sprouts.

You remember a bag of frozen organic green beans in the freezer. No matter how you cook them--sauteed, steamed, roasted, boiled--they're always lame. Squeaky between your teeth, limp and bland.

But this time, inspired by a Saveur email alert, you try something completely different. Preheat the cast-iron pan, toss in the better part of a stick of butter. When it melts and bubbles, in go the 1-pound bag of green beans. They sit and begin to steam, then gradually lose their coating of frost. Once they're bright green, you hear sizzling and popping, you stir and see promising signs of color--ochre and brown. You attend to the dishes, the kids, the mess of construction paper on their play table. You come back and stir--more beans losing their green grass color and their plumpness.

On and on it goes for the better part of an hour, a stir and then you leave them to their soothing sizzling. When some of them change to brown-black you taste a bean to be sure you're on the right track. The one you want is the crispiest bean in the center of the pan. Buttery and pleasingly salty, it actually crunches lightly in your mouth, like a delicate French fry but is unmistakably green bean.

You keep going, letting the beans cook as long as they can stand and then eat half the pan before you call anyone else to dinner.

Recipe: Caramelized Frozen Green Beans
6 tablespoons butter, unsalted or salted
1 pound frozen green beans
sea salt to taste

Heat a large cast-iron pan over medium-high heat and add the butter. When it is melted, add the green beans, stir to coat them in the butter and leave them to heat until they're no longer frost coated. Reduce the heat to medium-low so that you can still hear them sizzling and stir the beans intermittently until they shrink, wrinkle and about half of them are darkly colored. Season with salt and eat them with your fingers from the pan. This is a great way to get your daily dose of phytochemicals until spring arrives.

Salt Block Cooking Trial

2012-02-08T13:09:00.000-08:00

After serving as a decorative piece in my kitchen, the salt block finally gets to work.

Would you like bacon on that?

I bought my slab of jellybean pink Himalayan sea salt at The Meadow in Portland and it sat prettily on my kitchen shelf for 9 months before I got up the nerve to try it.

I’d read that heating it could cause cracks, and I didn’t want to mar it with meat juices. But after I grew tired of it taking up shelf space, I swore to sear a steak on it at my next opportunity.

I'd read that salt blocks reach temperatures of 600 F—heat that's hard to achieve in the standard home kitchen— and I imagined tasting the dark mahogany crust on the steak I'd one day cook.

One afternoon when I was baking bread, I plunked my salt block on the oven rack. Gradual heating is the way to prevent cracking, and it only took about the same amount of time as my charcoal grill to preheat.

I still felt tentative, so I decided to test the, er, salt with a bit of bacon once I transferred the block to a gas burner. When the block reached 400 F (I monitored it somewhat compulsively with my all-purpose digital thermometer, the Thermapen), I gingerly lay down a single strip.

The salt block threw off a lot of heat. I rolled down my sleeves and was cautious in the same way I am when pulling a cast-iron pan straight out of the oven like an iron from the forge.

The bacon sizzled in a satisfying way and the pink background created a nice effect of the bubbling fat. Happily, there wasn't enough fat to drizzle off the slab and create a grease fire (important safety tip).

After the bacon trial, the steak was a lay up. It seared to a crust as I'd imagined (but, truth be told, no better and no more technically challenging than my cast iron). It surprised me in one significant way: it was not one bit too salty.

Now my slab wears the stain marks, like scars of experience, well earned, and awaits another chance to wow me.

Potstickers from the Pros

2012-01-30T21:41:00.000-08:00

A quick lesson in shaping potstickers.
Once again, our literary org. Fishtrap invited me to teach a cooking class in conjunction with the Big Read, an NEA project where the whole community reads, discusses and socializes around the themes in a single book.

This year's selection is The Joy Luck Club by Amy Tan. That meant I got to make dumplings galore in preparation for teaching a dumpling class. I make a lot of ravioli and adore filled pasta (the dumpling's relative) of any kind, but there were a few tricks to get down for the Chinese version.

Like learning the folding technique in this slow-mo video. The fan shape produces a dumpling with three sides instead of two and makes the little flat bottom that browns in the pan when fried and steamed for potstickers--my favorite.

Li-Ling and her husband Jian own Happy Garden, our only Asian restaurant, and they gave me a demonstration. (Thanks, friends!) It's actually really easy once you practice.

Here are a few tips:

don't overfill the dumpling skin
take your time
press firmly a few times to make sure it's well sealed.

Our class of 21 people made fast work of over 200 dumpling skins (some purchased and a bunch homemade, which was everyone's favorite) and none of the dumpling burst when boiled.

I, on the other hand, I burnt one batch of potstickers, offering an excellent example of how to overcook them through inattention and constant talking. Now, I know why Chinese families all focus on making dumplings all together. They're not hard to make at all, but the want your full attention.

I suppose it's only fair, since we eat them so greedily. Have a wonderfully prosperous year!

Anything Strata

2012-01-14T09:36:00.000-08:00

Here's a formula for making a savory bread pudding with whatever you have on hand.

Five years ago, I wrote a book proposal on strata, that family of savory and sweet bread puddings that are frugal, adaptable and universally loved.

It never sold. I'm happy that I didn't have to recipe test 70 strata recipes--that would be a lot of bready meals. (Sometimes rejection is a good thing).

The experience did give me the foundation for producing strata at the drop of a hat. And I discovered that I prefer savory bread puddings to sweet ones. (I call them all strata because they're built in layers.)

What I love about dinner strata, apart from its economy, is its versatility. For seasonal cooks that means you can make strata any time of the year using whatever vegetable is in abundance. For last Sunday's Slow Food potluck, I made one with roasted butternut squash, a vegetable I have aplenty.

At this time of year, use whatever's in cold storage or the freezer to dream up a strata based on this formula (or skip to the recipe). It's a great way to keep eating local whenever you're stuck here in the veggie doldrums of winter.

There are only three parts to a savory strata:
Part 1: The Bread
Some recipes say to cut off the crusts. If you want to get fancy (see Bonus, below) or are making a sweet strata for dessert, then by all means trim off the crusts. But I like the textural contrast of more and less chew--and not wasting bread. In fact, I collect crusts and loaf ends in my freezer just for the purposes of making a strata. I tear the bread, generally--unless I want more uniformity, and then I cut--before toasting until crisp. 8 to 10 slices nicely fills a 9-by-13-inch baking dish.

Part 2: The Custard
This is a no-fuss mixture of milk and eggs. I use a proportion of roughly 2 eggs to 1 cup of milk. To add richness, replace a portion of milk with half and half or heavy cream and include an extra egg yolk. Or, to lighten it up, substitute vegetable or chicken broth. Season each cup of milk with 1/2 teaspoon fine sea salt, plus any other herbs or spices you like. If you want to check the flavorings, but are concerned about salmonella, mix up the milk with the seasonings and taste before you add the eggs. 2 1/2 cups of custard brings enough moisture to the standard baking dish and yields a crispy top once baked.

Part 3: The Flavorful Filling
This is where you get creative. Anything goes and in any quantity, leftovers included. The only guidelines are to use combinations that appeal to you, generally 2 to 3 ingredients, and make certain that they taste great on their own. Most ingredients need to be cooked in advance, especially any leafy greens, mushrooms or ground meats.

For my butternut squash strata, I roasted the squash in olive oil, salt and pepper and ground dried rosemary, and tasted it to be sure it was well seasoned. With cooked greens, such as spinach or kale, I like to add freshly grated nutmeg or red pepper flakes along with the salt. Go with your gut.

Finally, while strata is the ideal use for that hunk of dried-up cheese, know that cheese is optional.*
Anywhere from 1 to 3 cups of added vegetables and meats plus 1 to 3 cups of cheese produces a strata with interesting variety and flavors.

Bonus: Getting Fancy
I'm certain you've seen them on restaurant menus. So, how do you dress them up? It's easy. Cut the bread nice and even (without the crusts, see "bread" above), enrich the filling with half and half or cream and include out-of-the ordinary ingredients, such as wild mushrooms, crab, or leeks. Bake the strata in individual ramekins (reducing the baking time by 10 to 15 minutes) or use a round cutter to cut servings from a standard baking dish. The presentation is quite nice!

Here's a family supper or brunch strata recipe from the cookbook that was never written:
Recipe: Whole Wheat Strata with Ham, Corn, Scallions and Cheddar

*For a completely dairy-free bread pudding, try one of these panade recipes I published in Relish.

Recipe: Ham & Cheddar Whole Wheat Strata

2012-01-14T08:24:00.000-08:00

Whole Wheat Strata with Ham, Corn, Scallions & Cheddar
Makes 8 to 10 servings

8 ½-inch slices of crusty whole wheat country bread

2 1/2 cups whole or skim milk

4 large eggs

1 heaping tablespoon spicy brown mustard or Dijon

1 teaspoon salt

Pinch cayenne

4 to 6 ounces sliced ham or Canadian bacon, cut into roughly 2-inch squares

2 cups (1 10-ounce bag) frozen corn kernels

1 bunch scallions, chopped

3 cups grated sharp or extra-sharp cheddar cheese

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Tear or cut the bread into bite-sized pieces. Place them in a single layer on a large baking sheet and toast until crisp and beginning to brown, about 10 minutes.

2. Whisk the milk, eggs, mustard, salt, and cayenne until smooth in a large measuring cup to make the custard.
3. Toss the ham, corn, scallions, and 2 cups of the cheese with the bread in a large mixing bowl until well distributed.

4. Butter or oil a 9-by-13-inch glass baking dish. Transfer the bread mixture into the baking dish and pour over the custard over it. Cover with plastic wrap and weight with a gallon-sized resealable plastic bag filled with rice or beans. Press down to submerge the bread. Let the strata soak for at least 30 minutes at room temperature or up to 2 days in the refrigerator.

5. If the strata was chilled, let it stand at room temperature for 30 minutes before baking. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F and remove the weights and plastic wrap. Sprinkle on the remaining cheddar cheese. Bake until the strata is puffed, bubbly, and the top is well browned, 45 to 50 minutes. Cool on a rack for 10 minutes before serving.

Practice Makes Pasta (Near) Perfect

2012-01-06T16:58:00.000-08:00

Do you expect to do everything right the first time?

So do I.

This past Monday morning, I was baking for a private dinner that evening. My plan was to make individual chocolate tarts for dessert and the dough (from a recipe I'd never tested, mistake #1) crumbled instead of rolling.

And then what happens when you don't deliver?

In my case, I tend to sling insults at myself and feel like a failure.

I mean, it was only tart dough, but I was cooking for a business group, so it had some import. Plus, I'm supposed to be a professional.

As I made the tart dough again from a professional formula I know and trust, I realized that I haven't exactly had a lot of pastry practice of late. And that, I've come to realize is most of what it takes when it comes to baking and cooking--and just about everything else we do in this life.

I once heard a radio interview with Portland chef Naomi Pomeroy who said, essentially, that what separates professionals from home cooks is that they get a lot more opportunities to practice. Training and experience aside, it's true.

This is why I am dedicating 2012 to practicing all my important things, like writing, yoga, running, parenting and pasta.

Yes, pasta. Fresh, homemade pasta in all its wondrous varieties is something I'd like to be able to do without looking at a book for a recipe or formula. I long to become like that Italian homemaker who simply scoops some flour onto the counter, cracks in a few eggs and eases it all into a dough that she rolls into translucent sheets.

All it will take is doing it more. So that the next time I make butternut squash ravioli, like I did over the holidays, there will be more pleasure and less strain.

This video is a good way to learn the process of making pasta from scratch if you're feeling rusty.

So, what skills do you want to practice well in 2012?

Beef Tenderloin Substitutes

2011-12-29T10:30:00.000-08:00

Want to enjoy a regal roast beef but spend a bit less?

photo by mila0506

Okay, there is no real substitute for the butter-knife tenderness of the most spendy cut of beef. It's making the rounds on a host of food blogs for the upcoming holiday.

In fact, I just got booked for a private dinner slated for January 2nd and I've been on the phone trying to track down a couple of grassfed tenderloins at the last minute.

But, did you know that among the pros--and I'm talking about meat cutters here--tenderloin is never a top pick? Most butchers I've spoken to think the tenderloin is overrated. Certainly, it is pricey, but that doesn't tend to impress them.

This slender cut is the single most tender muscle on a cow because it's a supportive, not an exercised muscle. But, it has a milder flavor than other cuts. Butchers think it's a wimpy cut without any character that makes beef great.

If you're looking at the new year with an eye on your budget like I am, tenderloin may be out of your range. But that does not mean that you can't serve a lovely and impressive beef supper over the New Year's weekend.

Here are some lesser known, more economical and supremely flavorful beef cuts to try:

*Rib-eye roast: This premium cut is popularly known as prime rib and is butchers top pick as the king of beef cuts.

*Top sirloin roast: Sirloin usually ends up as steak, but a center cut chunk of sirloin makes a mighty fine roast.

*Top round roast: The cut typically used for deli roast beef makes a succulent roast beef supper--so long as it's cooked at a low temperature (325F or less) until medium-rare.

*Sirloin tip roast: The underdog of the beef world, this cut is also known as the "knuckle" since it lies between the sirloin and the round sections.

Here's an Oregonian article I wrote about 3 of these cuts for an affordable feast. It includes 3 recipes for stuffed roast beef that have the added bonus of serving less meat per person.

It holds true no matter what meat cut you choose that cooking it to the proper temperature is critical to your eating enjoyment. Invest in a reliable instant-read thermometer before you buy any meat.

Happy New Year!

My 5 Best Make-Ahead Holiday Breakfasts

2011-12-22T19:54:00.000-08:00

What to make to satisfy all of our Christmas morning cravings?

photo by jbcurio

Christmas Day brings a culinary paradox: we don't want to spend all day in the kitchen, but we want to eat well. That means making advance preparations especially for the first meal of the day: breakfast or brunch.

I'm more than happy with a pot of coffee for most of the morning (with a few sugar cookies popped into my mouth). I ply the girls with smoothies to sip as they open presents to eliminate risk of low blood sugar.

Come 10 a.m., everyone's ready for something more substantial, sweet or savory--or both.

Here are my top picks for a pre-made holiday breakfast. With only 2 days to go, I'm still deciding among them for myself:

1. Extra-Pumpkin Tea Cake Not too sweet and made with a hefty proportion of whole wheat flour, this is my go-to holiday snack. I already have some stashed in the freezer.
2. Orange Twists For something a little more indulgent, donut-like without any deep-frying. These simple pastries flavored with orange zest, juice and orange flower water rise overnight for a.m. baking.
3. Truffled Baked Eggs with Potatoes On the savory side, these baked eggs flavored with truffle oil are a great choice when company's coming.
4. Whole Wheat Sourdough Waffles Make this sourdough batter the night before for a near-instant breakfast. Take it to the sweet side with fruit preserves, poached fruit or maple syrup with yogurt or go savory by making it the "bread" for a great egg sandwich (see Bonus, below).
5. Cinnamon Streusel Sour Cream Coffee Cake A slice of nostalgia with an ideal streusel-to-cake ratio. A most welcome contribution to any holiday brunch.

Bonus:
One Good Egg Sandwich on Biscuits or Waffles It's may be an add-on to the list, but an egg sandwich is my favorite breakfast of all. I plan to bake a batch of biscuits to put in the freezer today, just in case the mood for a sausage, egg and cheddar biscuit sandwich hits.

Freezer Burn

2011-12-19T10:21:00.001-08:00

Do you treat your freezer like a circular file? It's time to excavate.

photo by me, alexis

Whenever I return from vacation, I see my house anew. I notice the chipped door jams, the overstuffed drawers and the dust on the chandelier, and I get to work putting my house in order.

Last week, when we returned from 2+ weeks in the east, I couldn't help notice the sad state of my freezers. The top freezer on the upright fridge is stuffed to bursting with Grand Central Bakery bread. While we were away, it sprung open a crack and everything is now coated, cartoon-like, in frost.

We food preservers and locavores may be the most guilty of hoarding food. We spend our precious time putting by all of summer's good produce and then we let it sit in there for months and years. Most people I know haven't seen the bottom of their freezers since they bought them.

Even though I've made a concerted effort to eat from my frozen stores, I still have more food than I need in there.

Tell me, do you know what's in the depths of your freezer? If so, what are you saving it for?

Don't worry, it's not just you. It's one of those kitchen universals, like the resistance to unloading the dishwasher, the dull knives you planned to sharpen, the gross pot holders needing to be replaced.

I'm here to remind you that your freezer is not a safety deposit box. And, while it's true that nothing's going to spoil in the freezer (barring an extended power outage, and man, think of all the food that had to be tossed during the east coast's Halloween storm power outages), nothing's getting better, either.

(Here are the best freezer storage guidelines I've found.)

You only have 92 days until spring, when the new growing season begins. By planning meals from the freezer, we can all eat the food while it's best and reduce our food waste, which peaks at this time of year.

So here's the holiday challenge: for the next 5 days, paw through your freezer(s) before you hit the grocery store and build meals around what you find.

There's not much time, but I'm betting that there are a few "lost" items you might be pleased to discover. I "found" a pound of dry-packed scallops I was saving for a special occasion. They're now the feature of my holiday menu.

What's in your freezer? Eat it soon. You'll be glad you did.

A Tale of Two Ranches

2011-12-09T13:54:00.001-08:00

A battle with the bottle.

The Platter, a photo by anotherfaceinthecrowd

Today, my daughter Molly talked me into buying a bottle of Hidden Valley Ranch dressing at the grocery store.

It was only recently that I learned about my kids' knowledge and love of RanchTM. When Cece requested it one day with her carrot sticks, I asked her, "Where did you have it?" "At school."

Of course! What daycare-going, preschool-aged child in America has not had ranch salad dressing with those faux baby carrots? They could probably become their own food group.

It was one of those moments when I realized my 3-year old's experiences are expanding beyond my reach. I resolved then and there to make those girls some homemade ranch. After all, I had all the ingredients I needed: mayonnaise, yogurt and the granulated garlic in long-term storage in the spice cabinet.

One night, when I was searching for a side to go with a baked potato supper, I mixed up some yogurt ranch for my little epicures to try--and as a way to get them to eat cauliflower and broccoli. They liked my ranch better than those crucifers.

At lunch today, after I shuddered reading the ingredient list on the Hidden Valley bottle, I conducted an informal poll. As they were speed-eating baby carrots dipped in RanchTM,I asked as casually as I could, "Which ranch do you like better? This one or the one I made the other day?"

Public school first grader Molly was unequivocal. She looked me straight in the eye and said, "This one." Her younger sister answered with her mouthful. "I liked yours better, Mommy."

My vote broke the tie.

Recipe: Yogurt Ranch Dressing and Dip

Recipe: Yogurt Ranch Dip

2011-12-09T13:45:00.001-08:00

Yogurt Ranch Dressing and Dip
I originally made this dressing based on the seasonings used in a Saveur recipe. But now I play around with the combination--the only time I use powdered onion and garlic for a smooth dressing--just like what comes in the bottle. This ranch, however, is made with 50/50 mayo-plain yogurt--eat up!

1 cup mayonnaise
1 cup plain yogurt
1/2 teaspoon onion powder
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
1/4 teaspoon dried oregano
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon pepper
1/4 cup milk

Combine all of the ingredients in a mixing bowl until smooth and well blended. Refrigerate for at least 1 hour to let the flavors marry before serving.

Winter Salad Series: Leeks Vinaigrette

2011-11-16T15:23:00.001-08:00

They're only onions, but leeks seem exotic and therefore special.

photo by M00k.

All of my lettuce is gone now. I miss those greens to my core. But it's time to become inventive on the salad front.

No more easy tossed mesclun mixes--at least those that don't come in a recycled plastic clam shell.

For seasonal eaters, this is a huge adjustment period, and I'm in the first stages of withdrawal.

A bevy of leeks cheered me considerably. Long and lithe, leeks are something to behold (once washed of the prodigious quantities of dirt they acquire between their sheaths while growing).

In most cooking uses, leeks fade in color and loose their length when chopped for a soup or a tart. Left whole and braised just until they're fork tender, however, these gentle onions get to show off their legginess and full integrity. Once I bathe them in a thick mustard vinaigrette, they satisfy a late-fall, early snowfall need for something green.

Leeks Vinaigrette
This is a braising method for preparing about 8 medium leeks for a salad:
1. Trim the leeks to the length you want with as much or as little green as you like. Slice them in half lengthwise to within 1 inch of the root end, wash thoroughly between the layers and dry them well.
2. Melt 2 tablespoons or so of butter in a large sauté or roasting pan over medium-high heat. Add the leeks and cook to brown them lightly, turning 2-3 times, about 7 minutes.
3. Add ¼ cup white wine or vermouth and salt and simmer until the wine is nearly evaporated.
4. Preheat the oven to 425 F degrees.
5. Add 1 cup of stock (I used vegetable stock, but bean water, pasta water or chicken stock are good, too), bring to a boil.
6. Braise the leeks in the oven until they are fork tender, about 25 minutes.
7. Meanwhile, make your favorite Dijon vinaigrette. I whisked up a combination of coarse mustard and Dijon mustard, red wine vinegar, olive oil and salt and pepper to taste. Serve the leeks warm or at room temperature with the vinaigrette and chopped parsley. If you like, top them with chopped hard-boiled egg.

--Adapted from Bon Appetit

A Sucker for Socca

2011-11-06T06:49:00.000-08:00

Just one of the many excellent uses for chickpea flour.

I don't clearly remember how I spent all my time on the French Riviera when I was twenty. I chased French boys, went topless on the beach (blush) and drank plenty of Stella Artois beer in the open-air cafes. Somehow I missed out on socca, the crispy chickpea crepes common in Nice.

I can't right the wrongs of my bad behavior from those days, but I can make up for lost time by making all the socca my family will tolerate.

I adore garbanzo beans, aka chickpeas, but I can never find enough uses for them. In our house, they find their way into soups, stews and salads. Raw, I grind them for heavenly falafel. When I discovered that Bob's Red Mill sold garbanzo bean flour, I became their best customer. Then I tried to find multiple uses for it, besides making the hummus I used to whisk up on every backpacking trip (and, as a result, cannot stomach to this day).

I first made standard socca, mixing water, olive oil and salt to the chickpea flour. After letting the batter stand for the starches to swell, I broiled thin pancakes as instructed by David Lebovitz on his blog.

I expected my girls to love them as much as they love pita breads, corn tortillas and pizza. Alas, it was not to be. Truth be told, the socca were a bit too plain even for me (maybe I need to spend more time in Nice), and I ate mine rolled up with ratatouille.

So, for the next round, I used the chickpea flour in place of all-purpose to make my favorite zucchini fritters. Larger than fritters, they turned out more like pancakes, which I topped with the last tomato from the garden--a golden one at that--and a dollop of sour cream (just because).

The resulting chickpea zucchini pancakes may be as far from socca as I am from my twenties, but they are going into my weeknight supper pantheon, though they are also a lovely hot lunch to make for special friends.

I'm not gluten-intolerant. Nor am I vegan. But if I was, I would perhaps love chickpea flour even more than I do now.

Which is to say, a lot.

Recipe: Curried Chickpea Zucchini Pancakes

Recipe: Curried Chickpea Zucchini Pancakes

2011-11-06T06:42:00.000-08:00

Curried Chickpea Zucchini Pancakes
Makes about 9 3-inch pancakes

Two to three of these savory pancakes makes a serving. Top with chutney, salsa or sliced avocado and sour cream. If making these to eat all at once, keep them warm in a low oven, ideally on a rack to maintain crispness. You can also make up the whole batch and store them in the refrigerator for 2-3 days. They reheat well.

2 medium zucchini, grated
1 teaspoon salt, divided
1 cup garbanzo bean flour
1 teaspoon curry powder
3/4 cup water + additional for thinning batter
2 tablespoons vegetable oil

1. Toss the zucchini with 1/2 teaspoon of the salt and put it in a colander to drain for 20-30 minutes. Squeeze out some of the moisture and put them into a medium mixing bowl.
2. Add the chickpea flour, curry powder, the remaining salt and water. Stir until well blended. The batter will be chunky from the zucchini and should have the same consistency as pancake batter. Thin it, if necessary, by adding 1 tablespoon of water at a time, and stirring to blend.
3. Let the batter stand for at least 1 hour (or longer in the refrigerator).
4. Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium high heat. Cook the pancakes in batches by ladling in dollops of batter to make small pancakes about 3 inches wide. Cook until golden brown, 3-4 minutes, flip and brown the other side. Reduce the heat to medium for the final minute of cooking to fully cook the insides. Repeat with the rest of the batter.

Zuppa di Zucca

2011-10-27T16:30:00.001-07:00

Taking pumpkin soup on a different spice route.

Photo by Bennet V

Say it with me, "Zuppa di zucca." It's pretty fun to pretend to speak Italian, so I decided to try cooking that way, too.

Pumpkin soup comes around every fall, but it reminds me of being a young adult in New York City. It was the one and only dish I remember making in my teensy-weensy three bedroom apartment in lower Manhattan back in the day.

On our tiny stove I simmered chunks of squash in chicken broth with curry powder. I'm guessing that I pureed it all in a blender--immersion blenders not the everyday (and indispensable) appliance they are today--but I have no recollection of owning a blender back then.

The point is that ever since, I've always followed the same spice route with pumpkin. True, it loves the warmth of ginger, cumin and coriander. But this fall I wanted to go in a different direction, mellower and more savory in a way that played up its pumpkin-ness. In other words, zuppa di zucca.

I cooked the onion is ample butter and olive oil without a real sense of direction. Salt, vegetable stock, and seeded, scooped-out pumpkin flesh* went into the pot. I stirred just a little and thought about what this soup wanted.

The seasonings for this zuppa?

A parmesan rind and 6 bay leaves. Yes, repeat after me: parmesan and bay leaves. Say it with feeling: Parmigiano e alloro.

Amazingly, bay makes pumpkin taste more of itself while the parmesan offers its nutty saltiness.After the parmesan rind had softened, I scraped some of the gooey cheese into the soup, then pureed it in the pot with my immersion blender.

Dinner. Done. Molto grazie.

Recipe: Savory Pumpkin Soup

*In years of pumpkin soup making, I've learned not to waste another moment (or risking an ER trip) cutting up raw pumpkin. I'm so lazy that after splitting the pumpkin or winter squash, I don't even seed it. I plunk it on a parchment paper-lined baking sheet and send it into the 350 F-degree oven until I can press the flesh with my fingers, about 1 hour. I bake the pumpkin hours--or days--in advance, so that I can make pumpkin soup in 20 minutes.

Recipe: Savory Pumpkin Soup

2011-10-27T16:30:00.000-07:00

If you live in a temperate climate where bay trees thrive, use them here to impart their nutmegy flavors into the soup. If not, sigh with me for our communal misfortune, and use dried bay as usual.
Serves 6

3 tablespoons unsalted or salted butter
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 large onion, chopped
3 cups vegetable or chicken stock
3-4 cups pumpkin or winter squash puree*
Sea salt
6 bay leaves
1 parmesan rind of any size
1/2 cup whole milk, half and half or heavy cream

1. Melt the butter and heat the oil in a medium stock pot over medium heat. Add the onion and cook, stirring now and then, until it softens but does not brown.
2. Add the stock, pumpkin, 1/2 teaspoon or so of salt, bay leaves and parmesan rind.
3. Cover and simmer for at least 15 minutes and up to 1 hour. Just before serving, remove and discard the bay leaves and parmesan rind. Add the milk and, if desired, puree until very smooth. Taste for seasoning before serving with crusty bread.

Canning Closure

2011-10-15T12:27:00.000-07:00

What's left to keep at the end of gardening season.

Photo by photofarmer

Today I received a special offer from Food52 for some lovely Weck canning jars. I would like to write back and say, "I'd love to, but I just can't face any more rounds of canning this year."

For some reason, I am done, I have enough--or do I?

I spent a day in the big garden in Troy last week preparing for frost by harvesting storage onions, carrots, squash and beets. I picked just enough tomatoes, peppers, eggplant and zucchini to eat them fresh. Although the leaves on the tomato plants were wilted and some of the tomato skins had split, I could have picked another thirty pounds to haul home for canning.

The peppers, too, were so flush, I could be drying anchos, chiles de arbol, jalapenos, guajillos, to name a few, from now until Christmas.

I turned my back and walked away from them all. I hope that someone in our little gardening cooperative has more stamina than me and these fruits and veggies will not simply drop from their vines to compost into the soil.

Those gorgeous Weck jars with their brushed stainless steel ribs and glass tops bring back all my regrets. Nothing like the Ball and Kerr jars with the utilitarian screw-top lids that all the veteran canners around here use. I would like to posses a full set of them and see them lined up on my shelves filled with raspberry jam, dilly beans, salsa verde and especially my favorite of the season, Sungold-Ginger Preserves.

I found the inspiration for this recipe in early 20th-century cookbooks using yellow pear tomatoes, and I fell in love with the notion of keeping cherry tomatoes in a jar--something I'd never done before. Red, yellow and orange cherry tomatoes of any variety (tangerine-colored Sungold are especially delicious and easy to grow in any container) look like jewels suspended in the syrup. I created this recipe for the Oregonian's FOODday in September (see the full story here), but it's so good, I had to preserve it here, too.

Recipe: Sungold-Ginger Preserves

Recipe: Sungold-Ginger Preserves

2011-10-14T16:48:00.000-07:00

Increase this recipe by any measure for canning all your remaining cherry tomatoes you can capture before the first frost. Serve these unusual preserves (of save them for holiday gifts) with any hard or soft-ripened cheese with flat breads and crackers as an appetizer, slather it on pork roast or spread it on plain toast for breakfast with a cup of tea and reminisce about summer.
Makes 1 pint
1 pound Sungold or other cherry or pear tomatoes, cut in half
1 1/2 cups granulated sugar
1/3 cup lemon juice
2/3 cup water
1 tablespoon peeled and grated fresh ginger
Pinch salt

Put all the ingredients into a nonreactive saucepan. Bring it to a simmer over medium heat, then reduce the heat to low so that small bubbles percolate on the surface. Simmer until the tomatoes are tender but still hold their shape, 10 to 15 minutes.
Use a slotted spoon to transfer the tomatoes into a sterilized pint glass jar or other heatproof container. Boil the remaining liquid, skimming off any foam, until thick and syrupy and reduced to 1 cup, 15 to 20 minutes. Pour the syrup over the tomatoes.
Chill the preserves in the refrigerator until loosely set and stir to distribute the tomatoes that settle on top. Store refrigerated for up to 2 weeks (preserves may keep longer; they are safe as long as there is no mold present). Or, pour the tomatoes and hot syrup into sterlized half-pint canning jars. Wipe the rims, seal with sterilized lids and process in a boiling water canner for 10 minutes (15 minutes for pints).

Some Wild Foods Are Just Out the Door

2011-10-06T12:57:00.000-07:00

Not all wild foods are beyond reach.

Ripe chokecherries come in different shades.

I moved here from Seattle for a taste of the wild. Back-country skiing and topping out on the ridges of our 10,000-foot peaks was what I had in mind at the time. When it came to food, I felt that I was giving up the good life of the city. Sure, I'd grown up fishing and clamming on Cape Cod and I joined Seattle's first CSA, but the store was still my food main source.

It didn't take long that spring in 2001 before I got the full taste of the wild: morels, trout, huckleberries and elk. The whole experience was captivating, from the mushroom hunting and elk butchering to the cooking. And the profound pleasures of eating foods directly from the land, lake, river or sea surpasses that of any meal, bar none. It must be primal.

There's good reason more people are turned on to wild foods as witnessed by the interest in Hank Shaw's Hunt, Gather, Cook and Langdon Cook's Fat of the Land. Though some may have the impression that you have to travel far, carry special tools (or weapons) and suffer physical discomfort, none of this is universally true.

Sometimes finding wild foods--or even feral foods, such as horseradish, plums and dandelions--is easily within reach. Such was the case with the wild chokecherry trees growing along the ditch in Kit Phelps's wheat field.

A few days before we picked, Kit fed me vanilla ice cream topped with chokecherry syrup. The color of raspberries, the syrup had a distinct cherry taste perfumed with rose and orange with a pleasing bitter edge like rhubarb. Yup, this was the amazing, complex and tantalizing taste of wild food, qualities impossible to cultivate. We made our plan for picking.

Loaded up with an orchard ladder and picking buckets two days later, Kit, my dd Cece and I bounced in the bench seat of her flatbed truck (ranchers have all the equipment you need for most jobs like this) to survey the trees. "These are really wild," Kit said and we reached the first willowy stand to check for ripeness and abundance. The trees were loaded with chokecherries, but curiously, some were the color of cranberries while others were the color of red plums. We tasted until we found the sweetest, though that isn't saying much because these are so tart, they make your tongue tingle.

Chokecherries are appropriately named because they have a pit that makes the avocado look like a generous fruit. Imagine eating a cherry pit tucked inside a blueberry and you get the idea. The flesh was like a "skin" covering the pit. No wonder the birds had left so many for us.

Later, I sweated over getting the juice from those chokecherries. As I boiled, food-milled, mashed and squeezed them in succession, it seemed like I was trying to squeeze water from a stone. From one gallon of berries, I got 3 cups of juice--and it was so worth it.

Combined with loads of sugar (I used a ratio of 2 cups sugar to 1 cup juice), I got 5 half pints of viscous chokecherry syrup (For a detailed how-to, click here.) With other fruit syrups and jams, I often add a bit of lemon juice, liqueur, ginger or spice and a pinch of salt to make the flavors more interesting and developed. When I dipped a teaspoon into this pot for a taste, I discovered that chokecherries didn't need a thing from me.

I gave one jar as a thank you to Brenda Crow who runs the great site Foodshed, the source for artisanal ingredients direct from the producers. Aside from an ice cream topping, I recommended she try it as a sauce for seared duck breast.

If I get any wild duck, pheasant, grouse or chukar this winter, I'll have to give this wild foods combination a try myself.

10 Cooking Lessons from 72 Hours On My Feet

2011-09-16T13:14:00.000-07:00

Two back-to-back cooking jobs brought me back to the basics.

photo by Green Wellies

I got back in the professional cooking saddle over Labor Day weekend for a jag that lasted 8 straight days. I was happy that I could still spend 14 hours on my feet going strong.

Then, I got home and couldn't sleep enough. While lounging around, I reflected on the whole experience, which ranged from cooking in a big commercial kitchen for 120 folk dancers to soloing in a well-appointed home kitchen for 9 foodies.

What I learned (and relearned) from both experiences is, I think, usable for anyone who spends time in any kitchen producing meals for others:

Dishwashers are better than gold. Reward them well--even when it's you. I had a direct comparison of one job with 2 dedicated dishwashers (a bonus that they were so good-natured) and the next where I did all the dishes myself. Even though it was a smaller job, it was a struggle to squeeze in the rounds of dishes. I typically economize on dishware, but when they get ahead of me I put on some music, get down to it and reward myself well (red wine, anyone?) when they're done, which leads me to...
Clean as you go and you'll feel more creative. This is not a sexy lesson, but it's one that really struck me as I worked with 4 other cooks. Cleaning up counters, wiping cutting boards and clearing away dishes before you move onto a new task makes the whole process way more efficient and fun. There's a crass expression in the trade, "Don't s**t where you eat." For me, I simply can't get inspired when I'm in the midst of a mess. Can you?
Prepping like a pro makes light work. If you're using a postage-sized cutting board and a knife that hasn't been sharpened since you got the set as a wedding gift, it is time to treat yourself. Yes, this is all about being good to the cook--you. Again, not sexy, but fundamental. Buy the biggest cutting board you can find, get a non-stick pad to put under it to keep it from slipping and get your knives professionally sharpened. (Confession: mine are overdue.) Now, we are ready to make some mean mise en place.
Get your baking out of the way early and second guess your timer. Everybody loves scones, cookies and dessert, but baking can get in the way of meal preparations. Here's how I make it go quick: As far ahead of time as possible (ideally the night before), measure and portion all the dry and the wet ingredients, keeping them separate as instructed in the recipe. If there are any stand-alone steps, like making a crumb topping that needs to be chilled, do it in advance. You'll be amazed at how quickly it all comes together! When it comes time to bake, set your timer for half the designated recipe time. This way, you can rotate the pans as necessary and monitor the final baking in small increments for a perfect golden brown finish.
You can't taste too much, unless you're taking whole bites. Do you sample as you cook? I'm not talking about snacking, but sampling with the tip of a teaspoon early and often. Try it and you'll be amazed at how you can teach yourself (yes, that's right, TIY) to be a better cook by adjusting the seasoning--salt predominantly but other spices or other flavorings--as you go. This goes for salads as well as soups, sautes, or stews, but see #7 for meats. (Heck, I even taste my pasta water.) Right before serving, taste again and make sure it's just what you wanted (bearing # 9 in mind). If not, a pinch of salt or a dribble of lemon juice where appropriate can brighten and heighten the flavors.
Burns are forever. Don't be like me. It was hot, so I was working in a tiny T-shirt while roasting, baking and grilling, and I paid the price. Long sleeves would have saved me some scars on the tender spots on my arms as would have long hot pads and grilling gloves. Are your hot pads as nasty and worn out as mine? Let's pinkie promise to replace them asap. (Yes, I have a first grader.) While we're at it, should we splurge on some new kitchen towels?
How to season and cook proteins right. You've seen it happen to the pros on all the cooking shows: that steak, those scallops, the turkey breast is or is not perfectly seasoned and cooked. It's the linchpin of the whole meal in many cases and the most costly component, so it requires all your attention. The seasoning part does take some practice because you cannot taste the meat as you go (as per #5). As a general rule, you want to use more salt on raw meat than you think is sufficient and to distribute it as evenly as possible (flake salt like kosher works best). As for cooking meats and fish of any kind, experience helps but doesn't replace the need for a timer and an instant-read thermometer. This is the time and place to get gadgety. I indulged in a Thermapen and I've been thankful ever since.
Be friends with your grill. I once taught a cooking class to 6 women where none of them grilled. We women must take back the grill! It's not only the simplest way to produce memorable meals, it also reduces dishes (see #1) and gets you outside to enjoy the fresh air. On top of that, what isn't great when grilled? Here's my formula for a great supper party no matter the season: bake your dessert first (see #4), wash the lettuce and make a dressing. Make an herb sauce (think pesto, but use any tender leafy herb, such as parsley, tarragon, cilantro, sorrel and spike it with anchovy or red pepper flakes, red wine vinegar and be generous with your best olive oil. Now, you're ready to grill the protein and all the veggies to serve on a big platter painted with your herb sauce. Add beer or wine and you're done.
Don't expect perfection. Julia Child's advice to never explain, excuse or apologize came to my mind on several instances on the job. Once the frittata is over-salted (guilty), the salad's overdressed (guilty again) or the chickpea a tad on the crunchy side (damn them), it doesn't do any good to beat yourself up or bore people with the details. I try not to lose sleep over my many mistakes and to become a more thoughtful and present cook. In the thick of things, so much can happen. Sometimes, it's simply a not-so-gentle reminder that I'm really not (despite my fervid beliefs) in control.
Make it joyful. There is a mountain of work involved in feeding ourselves and others. Hours of planning, shopping, prepping and cooking food that gets consumed in minutes before another round of dishes is there staring you in the face (sense a theme?). It could get you down, except that there is so much potential for pleasure. For me, it's working with fresh, local products, an organized work space, music and good company in the kitchen. I became very clear that I am much happier when I'm in a community of cooks. I thrive on the back and forth chatter, the "taste this" and the "can you help me with that." The days I cooked alone were intense and interesting in their own way, but they were not joyful. What brings you cooking joy?

Homemade Mayonnaise (by machine)

2011-08-31T23:18:00.000-07:00

A time-tested recipe for mayonnaise without a whisk.

Painting by Made in Mississippi

Today, I overcame my inability to make mayonnaise by machine. It's all thanks to Whitney Ferre and her mom Susan Gilbert who taught me the secret to small batch mayonnaise.

Use the whole egg.

Previously, I used only 1 yolk and it did not provide enough mass to reach the blade in a food processor and produce the necessary emulsification. If you use the whole egg, it does--and it did.

This recipe comes by way of Whitney's Grandma Gilbert. Susan emailed, "Grandma got the recipe from a friend of hers named Virginia Snell, long deceased. The original recipe called for garlic powder, MSG and ground pepper. I dropped the MSG right away and I usually opt not to use the pepper because I don't like little black spots in the creamy white mayo."

And creamy it is. It is also tangy from the distilled white vinegar. You could substitute lemon juice, red wine vinegar or champagne vinegar, or cut the vinegar to 2 tablespoons if you prefer. But, do you really want to mess around with a classic like this?

It is also supremely flavorful with onion, garlic and mustard powder. An all-purpose spread for sure, it's also a head start for making your favorite homemade creamy dressings--from caesar to blue cheese to ranch.

"I think I’ve only purchased one jar of mayonnaise in 43 years of marriage, right after a move," Susan wrote, "and I ended up throwing it out!"

I hope to follow in Susan's (and Whitney's, Grandma Gilbert's and Virginia Snell's) footsteps--in more ways than one.

Classic Mayonnaise
Makes 2 cups
1 whole large egg
2 small garlic cloves, peeled
1/4 small onion
3 tablespoons distilled white vinegar
dash Tabasco
3/4 teaspoon salt
3/4 teaspoon mustard powder
1 cup vegetable oil

1. Put the egg, garlic, onion, vinegar, tabasco, salt and mustard in the bowl of a food processor or in a blender.
2. With the machine running, slowly drizzle 2 tablespoons of the oil in through the feed tube or the opening in the blender lid. When the mixture thickens, gradually drizzle in the rest of the oil.
3. Store the mayonnaise in a sparkling clean jar in the refrigerator.

Giving a Fig

2011-08-15T13:18:00.000-07:00

Have you shared a fig today?

Photo by Steve Einhorn

For a month now, I've been trying to think of a way to thank Steve Einhorn for giving me this fig (see photo).

What is the best way to express gratitude for a spontaneous act of generosity?

Steve is one of the most warm-hearted people I know--a musician and songwriter, a pen-and-ink artist and photographer, a husband, dad and grandfather. When I hear him sing with his wife Kate Power, it warms me from head to toe, inspiring me to make music with my own spouse and to sing more every day.

Steve gave me this fig photograph after I read from my essay about figs at the Fishtrap summer writers' conference. (It was racy.) Isn't it gorgeous?

Steve and Kate really do give a fig--an archaic expression for caring, empathy or interest. And I want you to know about their online community Quality Folk (where you also can tune into some of their catchy and soulful songs). For a good while now, they've been on a musical road trip calling themselves the Ukalalians. Their mission: to engage nonmusicians in the musical world and to teach them to play ukeleles within 1 hour. It works!

I took their fun-filled workshop with my kids and everyone was smiling, singing and strumming the whole time. Check out their touring schedule or contact Steve and Kate to see if they can swing by your locale for a session. Or, get their just-released songbook and instructional DVD here.

Letting more people know about their project is one of the best ways I can think of to thank such generous, spirited and fun-loving people.

Thanks, Steve!

Prosciutto and Figs
While the figs are ripe, indulge in this easy appetizer with quality folk you know.
Serves 6

6 ripe fresh figs
1/4 pound good-quality prosciutto, very thinly sliced

Cut the figs in half top to bottom and arrange them on a platter. Drap each half with a slice of prosciutto and serve at room temperature.