In Season NW: First Appearance

You gotta give credit to the first person to gather and then figure out how to eat stinging nettles. Granted, they must have looked appetizing, the bright green leaves and fleshy stems poking up out of the cold ground on those ancient early spring days. But one unprotected encounter with them, as with any vicious beast, would be enough to kill anyone's appetite for subsequent meetings.

Stinging nettles.

Last year was the first time I'd tried cooking with them, and the Spring Leek and Nettle Tart I made as an appetizer was a big hit. Then recently my friend Hank Shaw wrote about his quest to conquer this challenging herb, and inspired me to go at it again.

The unrolled, flattened roast.

It didn't hurt that Dave had indicated his desire to smoke some pork in the near future, and I'd bought a couple of bags of nettles from the Urban Farm Market the day before. So a quick trip to the store for my current favorite budget cut, a boneless pork leg roast, had us prepping a nettle pesto stuffing for it to go on the grill that very night. (See also my recipe for Stuffed Pork Leg Roast with Kale and Pine Nuts.)

Stuffed, rolled and tied (just like the rodeo).

A side dish of papardelle with wild mushrooms and this was one early spring dinner that was thankfully painless and, at the same time, very hard to beat.

Pork Leg Roast with Nettle Pesto Stuffing

For the pesto:
2 c. nettles (remember to wear heavy gloves when handling the fresh herb)
2 cloves garlic
2 Tbsp. pine nuts
1/4 c. fine bread crumbs
1/3 c. olive oil
1/4 c. parmesan, finely grated
Salt to taste

For the roast:
3-lb. pork leg roast
Butcher's twine

Bring a medium-sized pot of salted water to boil. Have a large bowl of ice water nearby. Wearing heavy gloves to prevent nettles from stinging, add them to the boiling water. Boil for 1 minute, then, using tongs or slotted spoon, remove them from the pot and plunge into the bowl of ice water to stop the cooking and fix the color.

Remove nettles from the ice water with tongs and drain in a colander. Remove any large stems (you should be able to handle them with bare hands at this point), keeping the tender stalks and leaves. Wrap them in a kitchen towel and twist it tightly to remove all the water.

Put nettles, garlic, pine nuts and bread crumbs in bowl of food processor. With processor running, drizzle in olive oil and process till smooth, adding more olive oil if needed. Put nettle mixture into medium mixing bowl and add parmesan, stirring to combine. Add salt to taste.

Clip strings tying pork roast and unroll. If it's not an even thickness, use a sharp knife to make shallow cuts so it unrolls completely and becomes one even slab (see photo above). Reserving 1/4 c. of pesto, spread the nettle pesto over the interior surface of meat. Reroll and tie tightly with butcher's twine. Rub reserved pesto on outside of roast.

Grill over indirect heat until internal temperature reaches 125-130° (approx. 1 hour), then remove to cutting board, tent with aluminum foil and let it rest for 20 minutes. (Other recipes call for an internal temperature of 155°, but we find that the meat tends to be overcooked and dry at that temperature.) You can also roast this in the oven at 350° for 1 1/2 hrs. or so until it reaches the same internal temperature.

Market in the Making

"And up from the ground came a bubblin' crude…"

- Theme song from The Beverly Hillbillies

Like when Jed Clampett was shootin' at some food, Roger Konka and Norma Cravens saw an empty lot just off a nascent restaurant row on Northeast Killingsworth and what bubbled up before their eyes was a spot where they could sell their bounty of wild and cultivated mushrooms. A weed-covered emptiness, the lot was owned by a friend of Roger's. Of course, it didn't hurt that it was right across the street from Beast, perennially named one of Portland's best restaurants, and just down the block from Yakuza Lounge, Fats pub, Autentica, DOC and funky breakfast spot Cup and Saucer.

An instant hit, it didn't hurt that chef (and GSNW contributor) Kathryn LaSusa Yeomans (left) was dishing out samples of her crazy cream of mushroom soup, along with a rotating cast that included her bean stews, polenta with lamb and a heavenly apple crisp. (Try walking by that without stopping on a chilly Saturday. I dare you.)

Then, within a week they were joined by Hood River's Draper Girls, selling not only their signature fruit, but fresh-pressed cider, dried beans, pork and lamb. And just last week Nancy Chandlers' hugely popular Alsea Acre Goat Cheese joined them with her nearly impossible-to-resist herbed cheese spreads.

Apparently other vendors are clamoring to join them, so this little market may be going viral. I'll keep you posted on what bubbles up next.

Details: Urban Farm Market. Saturdays, 10 am-3 pm. NE 30th and Emerson, 1 block south of Killingsworth.

Asian Inflection

In an alternate universe, my comfort food of choice would be kimchi, made the way my mother learned it from her mother and aged the way it had been for generations in big clay urns on the roof of our house. Or maybe the tastes I crave would be fish sauce-tinged, burning with the heat of the little hot peppers my father grew in his garden outside our front door, the seeds brought from his mother's garden in her village in the mountains.

This particular fantasy assumes that there would be culinary skills passed down to me from my (imaginary) mother or grandmother, recipes peculiar to her village or region. But, alas, my white bread mid-century upbringing brought with it a knowledge of potato-chip crusted tuna casserole and pot roast rather than Bun Tom Thit Nurong. Sigh.

Browning the meat in the spices.

So I, like Blanche DuBois, am left to the kindness of strangers when I need my Asian fix, in this case the estimable skills of Mark Bittman, himself the child of Jewish parents who has moved beyond the borders of that cuisine to adopt those of other cultures. His coconut braised beef, for example, first published in 2005 and then again just a week or so ago, is a brilliant adaptation for braised chuck roast with a Thai twist. Its inclusion of chiles, lime zest, coconut milk, garlic and ginger is as near as I've come to the real thing, made from ingredients I usually have available.

Maybe it's time to sign up for that cooking class in Vietnam. What do you think?

Coconut Braised Beef
Adapted from Mark Bittman, The New York Times' The Minimalist

2 hot dried red chilies
3 garlic cloves, peeled
1 1/2" piece ginger, peeled and roughly chopped
1 Tbps. chili powder (I used 1 dried aci sivri pepper)
1/4-1/2 tsp. fish sauce
Juice and zest of 2 limes, or 2 Tbsp. rice or other mild vinegar
2 Tbsp. canola, grapeseed or other neutral oil
2 lbs. beef, preferably chuck, cut into 1-inch cubes
2 c. coconut milk (or 1 can, about 1 1/2 cups, plus 1/2 cup water)
Salt to taste

Put chiles, garlic, ginger, chili powder, fish sauce, lime juice and zest in bowl of a food processor, and process until everything is minced, or mince by hand and combine.

Heat oil over medium-high heat in a skillet that can later be covered. Add spice paste and cook, stirring occasionally, until fragrant, about 2 minutes. Add beef, and cook, stirring occasionally, until browned and covered with sauce.

Pour in coconut milk, and bring mixture to a boil. Lower heat, cover, and simmer, stirring only occasionally (but making sure mixture is simmering very slowly, with just a few bubbles at a time breaking the surface) until meat is extremely tender, at least an hour and possibly closer to 2.

Uncover and cook until sauce is very thick and caramel-colored, stirring frequently so it does not brown. Season to taste with salt, and serve with white rice.

Farm Bulletin: Year of the Rutabaga

In this installment of the Farm Bulletin, contributor Anthony Boutard of Ayers Creek Farm shares a recipe for this ubiquitous winter vegetable. Find them both at the twice-a-month Sunday Hillsdale Farmers' Market.

This has been the year of the rutabaga. The white rutabaga is delicious raw as well as cooked. Our friend Katherine Deumling of Cook With What You Have provided us with the following recipe.

Winter Slaw

This “slaw” was a true “cook with what you have” invention the day of class upon discovering that there was no chard or collard greens at the farmers’ market (for the above-mentioned recipes). There were beautiful cabbages, rutabagas and carrots. Quantities are definitely approximations and please feel free to substitute other veggies or omit certain ones. Turnips instead of rutabagas, etc.

For the slaw:
1/2 small to medium green cabbage (red would be fine too)
2 medium carrots
1/2 very large rutabaga or several small ones
2-3 greens onions (scallions), thinly sliced
Handful of cilantro, roughly chopped

For the dressing:
Juice of 1 lime or lemon
1-2 tsp. Dijon mustard
1-2 Tbsp. mayonnaise
1–2 tsp. Ground cumin
Pinch of chili flakes
Salt
Pepper
3 Tbsp. olive oil

Thinly slice the cabbage, grate the carrots and rutabaga and put in large salad bowl. Add scallions and cilantro. Mix all dressing ingredients well and pour over vegetables. Mix well. Let rest for 20 minutes to 1 hour to soften the vegetables and let flavors meld. Adjust seasoning.

Coffee Joint

Buying a cup of coffee in this town is getting complicated. Not in a split-shot-grande-vanilla-no-foam-latte way, but the "Do you want your espresso pulled with the Kenya Gatomboya by Stumptown or the Nueva Granada El Salvador by Barefoot?" kind of complicated.

Barista was opened by Albina Press founder Billy Wilson as a place for Portlanders who are passionate about their brew to experience the best coffees the country has to offer. To that end, he carries coffees from his mentor Duane Sorenson's Stumptown, and other nationally noted roasters like Intelligentsia, Ecco, Verve, Metropolis and Barefoot.

You can get your vanilla latte, sure, but you can also get a cup made in a French press maker or, for $8 to $10, made in halogen-heated vacuum pots (right), requiring a very mad scientist's laboratory process that will appeal to equipment geeks.

The folks who frequent this temple to small-batch specialty caffeine delivery systems tend to speak in hushed tones as they consult with the barista who is making (I almost want to say consecrating) their coffee, then go to sit at the scattered tables in the lobby of the office building it occupies or, in nice weather, on the loading dock outside.

The tone is serious, yes, but that's the way these guys feel about their craft. And I've got to give them props, since their attention to the quality definitely shines through.

Details: Barista, 539 NW 13th Ave. between Glisan and Hoyt.

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Thanks to those who noticed my reference to "Alberta Press" instead of "Albina Press." Editing your own copy? Hard!

Looks Like Spring

Oh, to be a chicken and know that spring is on the way!

My friend Clare at Big Table Farm told me that her chickens were laying more eggs now that spring was on the way and they were finding plenty of bugs and other crawly things to eat in their pasture. And because those happy chickens were laying lots of eggs, she had plenty to spare…would I like some?

Who am I to turn down these delicious and gorgeous treasures? She sent a couple dozen into town with her friend Michael from Storyteller Wine, and said there will be lots more next week. Looks like it's time to make a soufflé!

To find out more about how much work Clare puts into her chickens (and thus their eggs), read this post about the chickens, and check out her blog about farm life in Oregon.

What Are You Waiting For?

So…what are you waiting for?

Thanks to Michel for finding this.

Don't Call It Vegan

There's something about the term "vegan" that really rubs people the wrong way. It has a certain holier-than-thou tone to it, as if all other foods, the ones most of us eat, have been declared unclean.

Even worse, the foods deemed worthy of consumption have a reputation for being dull and flavorless. Think tofu, brown rice or rutabagas. Then there are the foods that try to mimic cheese or bacon or turkey and fall pathetically short. Which makes the vegetarian diets of yore look positively lush by comparison.

But you don't have to take a lemons-into-lemonade, turn-that-frown-upside-down attitude to switch your thinking around to what you can have instead of what you can't. Think of the intense flavors we love: heat, spice, sweet. All perfectly fit a vegan diet. Then there are the fats: olive oil, sesame oil and nuts spring to mind. And the great flavors of legumes, fresh greens, squash, garlic, mushrooms. Makes you think, right?

So when I saw the following recipe in John Ash's book From the Earth to the Table,it looked like a tasty new pasta recipe using pesto, cauliflower, pasta and beans. Not some wacky vegan food-like substance. Try it sometime when you're craving a flavor-packed, hearty dinner. You'll be surprised when you don't feel like you've done without.

Pasta with Roasted Cauliflower and Parsley Pesto
Adapted from John Ash's From the Earth to the Table

For the pesto:
4 c. packed fresh parsley leaves
4-5 cloves garlic, fresh or roasted
2 Tbsp. pine nuts, fresh or toasted
Zest of 1 lemon, grated
1/2 c. olive oil
Salt to taste

For the pasta:
1 med. cauliflower
2 Tbsp. olive oil
1 lb. rigatoni, penne or other pasta
3/4 c. kalamata olives
1 c. cannellini, borlotti or other beans, cooked
Mint sprigs for garnish

Put parsley, garlic and pine nuts in bowl of food processor. While processing, drizzle in olive oil until smooth. Empty processor into medium-sized bowl and add rest of ingredients. Combine.

Preheat oven to 350°. Break cauliflower into 1" pieces and place in large mixing bowl. Drizzle with olive oil and stir to coat. Empty into 9" by 12" roasting pan and place in oven for 30-40 minutes until nicely browned.

While cauliflower is roasting, bring a large pot of salted water to boil. When cauliflower is almost done, put pasta on to cook until just al dente. Drain and put in large serving bowl, adding pesto, roasted cauliflower, olives and beans. Mix. Serve garnished with chopped mint leaves.

* You can also add 1/4 c. parmesan to the pesto, and served grated parmesan at the table for sprinkling.

Alive and Kicking It

Excuse me if I seem a bit distracted. I was just going to write about a recent delightful evening spent at Three Doors Down on Hawthorne, but Amelia Earhart just walked by my window and has distracted me from my keyboard. At least it looked like her: reddish hair, flight suit, aviator's hat, goggles. But instead of her Electra 10E airplane, she was accompanied by a rather large, docile-looking golden lab. Go figure.

The house Caesar, one of the best in town.

Now where was I? Oh, yes, dinner at what is truly one of the standbys of really great Portland dining. It's a place we don't go often, but every time we do we wonder why we don't. Well-made cocktails shaken by a knowledgeable and affable hand. Reasonably priced snacky bits from the bar, with an attentive staff that keeps track of your reservation and knows where to find you even if the bar is packed.

Seafood Fra Diavolo.

Without, to those of you restaurant owners who use them, one of those unbelievably irritating buzzing, beeping, whirling and/or vibrating pagers that seem so popular these days. Doesn't everyone have a cell phone they can be called on if your staff can't be bothered to fetch customers or your place is too cavernous?

We were there (at Three Doors Down, remember?) for the annual staff dinner of my brother's wine shop, Vino, in Sellwood. It was a large table, the jeroboam of Barbaresco he'd brought was decanted, to be supplemented by other, smaller-but-not-lesser bottles off the list, and we set to on the various appetizers, entrees and desserts that came flowing, almost literally, out of the kitchen.

Pasta with vodka sauce, messy looking but totally intoxicating.

I'd ordered the short rib of beef on a risotto with chard, expecting a boney hunk of chewable beefiness, and out came a dark and fall-apart tender, heart-shaped slice of beef glistening atop the most delicious, al dente risotto I've ever had. And believe me, I would have said that without the benefit of the cocktails and wine consumed to that point. It was drop-dead gorgeous, and my opinion was backed up by the other diners at the table, whose forks I was (unsuccessfully) forced to fend off.

Bread pudding with hard sauce.

Dave chose the clams and mussels with fettucine, but because this place believes in giving you bang and then some, they also threw in shrimp and olives and called it Fra Diavolo, the seafood-swollen sauce it was swimming in perfect for dredging with their house bread.

Several others ordered the house specialty, their sublime penne ala vodka, though this time it was made with tortiglione, a slightly thicker, striated and blunt cut extruded pasta. It's also devastatingly easy to make at home, and the restaurant has supplied the almost-unheard-of courtesy of an accurate recipe on their website.

Desserts were also ordered, all sublime, with the standout a richly liquored-up bread pudding with hard sauce that, despite the fact that we were full-to-bursting, was taken down and finished off with nary a trace remaining.

Oddly, rather like Ms. Earhart herself.

Details: Three Doors Down Café, 1429 SE 37th Ave. 503-236-6886.

The "It" Food? Really?

It's been all over the food blogs, and foodie magazines are trumpeting its ascendance to the top of the "food of the moment" list. Portland restaurant biz-whiz David Machado has even said, "I'm going to call 2010 the year of the meatball."

Meatballs? Really?

They are the classic American comfort food, whether dumped out of a can or made with exotic meats like veal or venison. My mother's were notable for being hard, dry nuggets, browned too thoroughly because of her unfortunate choice to major in dietetics in college, where a fear of trichinosis haunted her for the rest of her life. One of the first recipes I ever made was Swedish Meatballs from Betty Crockers Cookbook for Boys and Girls, still a great recipe and one that puts those at Ikea to shame.

I've posted a couple of recipes here on GSNW this year, one made with potatoes and ground beef, the other being chicken meatballs with chives and remoulade, that were the hits of a couple of parties earlier this year.

But, as mentioned previously, I'm extremely suggestible, so all this talk about little orbs of meat covered in sauce got me salivating once again. So I went digging and uncovered yet another twist, this time with beef, sausage and parmesan that had me whipping up a batch for dinner the other night.

Oh, and a hint to pass along: When mixing the meat, don't squish it with your hands like my mother used to do. It's not for sanitary reasons, since I'm all for playing with your food. The meat should be combined in a bowl with the other ingredients and stirred with a fork or other implement to keep it light.

Spaghetti and Meatballs
Adapted from Gourmet, Jan. 2009

For tomato sauce:
2 (28-ounce) cans whole tomatoes in juice
1 yellow onion, finely chopped
1/4 c. extra-virgin olive oil
3 garlic cloves, finely chopped
Salt and pepper to taste

For meatballs:
1 yellow onion, finely chopped
1 Tbsp. extra-virgin olive oil
3 garlic cloves, finely chopped
1 c. day-old bread, cut into 1/2" cubes
1 c. whole milk
2 large eggs
1 c. grated Parmigiano-Reggiano (1/4 pound)
1/4 cup finely chopped flat-leaf parsley
1 tsp. oregano dried, crumbled
2 tsp. grated lemon zest
1 lb. ground beef
1 lb. ground pork
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. pepper
1/3 c. olive or vegetable oil

Make sauce:
Drain tomatoes, reserving juice in a large bowl. Crush tomatoes with your hands or process in food processor and add to juice.

Cook onions in oil in pot over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 10 minutes. Add garlic and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 2 minutes. Stir in tomatoes with their juice. Simmer sauce, uncovered, stirring occasionally, until slightly thickened, 45 minutes to 1 hour. Add salt and pepper.

Make meatballs while sauce simmers:
Cook onions in extra-virgin olive oil in a 12-inch heavy skillet over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 10 minutes. Add garlic and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 3 minutes. Transfer to a large bowl to cool.

Soak bread in milk in another bowl until soft, about 5 minutes. Firmly squeeze bread to remove excess milk, discarding milk.

Stir together cooled onion mixture, bread, eggs, parmesan, parsley, oregano, lemon zest, salt and pepper until combined. Add meats to bread mixture, gently mixing with a fork until just combined (do not overmix).

Form meat mixture into 1-inch balls with dampened hands, arranging meatballs on 2 large baking sheets or in shallow baking pans.

Heat olive or vegetable oil in a 12-inch heavy skillet (preferably nonstick) over medium-high heat until hot but not smoking, then brown meatballs in 4 or 5 batches (without crowding), turning frequently, about 5 minutes per batch. Return to baking sheets.

Add meatballs to sauce and gently simmer, covered, stirring occasionally, until cooked through, 20 to 30 minutes.

Food Movement

As with the revolution in Iran and the earthquake in Haiti, it hit Twitter first: Martha Holmberg, editor of the Oregonian's FoodDay section and its glossy magazine, MIX, is leaving for greener (and no doubt more sustainable) pastures.

Martha gave me my one of my first writing breaks when she asked for volunteers to write short blurbs about what's in season at their local farmers' market. Which evolved into a two-year stint writing the Market Watch column for FoodDay, with Martha encouraging, (kindly) criticizing and urging me to kick it up a notch. Which then led to features for her publications and others around the region and a new career as a writer, for which I am eternally grateful.

She's leaving after turning the section into a feature-driven bright spot in the paper every Tuesday. According to local restaurant critic FoodDude at Portland Food & Drink, she'll be leaving the paper in mid-February and join the Portland PR firm Watershed Communications in April as an editorial director, building a content division, though she'll also continue to consult on MIX.

Good luck, Martha, and thanks for all you've done for me and for the Portland food scene.

Photo by Beth Nakamura for the Oregonian.

Lovely Lunchin'

I'm not a "ladies who lunch" kind of person (as if that wasn't pretty dang obvious).

Many years ago I met a friend, along with her sister who was visiting from New York, for lunch at Zefiro. Because it was on Northwest 21st, within spitting distance of the newly-trendy (and very expensive) shops on Northwest 23rd, it was frequented by a certain kind of West Hills matron who considered it a nice enough but not-too-fancy place to meet her friends and yet safely park her Mercedes.

The wild boar sandwich.

On that day we'd ordered the de rigeur house Caesar, still one of the best I can remember, and in came a gaggle of the aforementioned matrons, one the very recognizable wife of a prominent surgeon, dressed head to toe in a bright purple patterned fake fur suit with matching pill-box hat, pearls and what were no doubt her daytime diamonds. It was a sight to take your breath, if not your appetite, away.

Needless to say, when a friend wants to meet for lunch, I tend to choose more casual settings. I posted a couple of weeks ago about having drinks and snacks at Accanto, which in Italian means "next door," in this case sharing a wall (and management) with Genoa, Portland's newly regenerated temple to Italian cuisine. Having perused the lunch menu while I was there, the next time I got to choose a place, I suggested meeting there.

Cannelini bean soup.

It's got a bright, casual, café-like feeling in the middle of the day with its large windows looking out over the corner of 29th and Belmont, and most tables have a wide-open view of the street, giving it a neighborhood-y feel. There are several beers available on tap in a variety of styles, with locals featured prominently, which are selected to match the food. The same applies to the wine list, a nice, moderately priced selection of slurpers fit for lunch or sipping.

The soup du jour was a cannellini bean with vegetables, hearty and filling. I had the wild boar sandwich, tender, falling-apart shreds of meat in a sweet-yet-tangy barbecue sauce on a baguette, topped with provolone and pickled onions. This was a boar to fall in love with, and it made me want to shove in a few of the pile of cross-cut house chips that came with it just to take it over the top and add that salty crunch.

One friend ordered the crostini di polenta al fungi, basically a mushroom-tomato ragu on toasted rounds of polenta that was complete heaven. It would be the perfect dish to share with a friend and a couple of glasses of wine (or a cocktail) and a salad, whether for lunch or an early dinner. For a place next door, it's got a lot to offer all on its own.

Details: Accanto, 2838 SE Belmont St. 503-235-4900.

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Accanto has also just announced happy hours from 3-6 pm daily, and in the evening from 9 pm-close weekdays, 10 pm-close weekends.

Critical Thinking

If you care about this country and where it's headed, you need to watch this interview between Bill Moyers, perhaps the premier journalist of the last (or really, any other) century, and David Simon, the creator of "The Wire," a Shakespearean take on modern life. Really. Watch it.

Fish Rap

From the days of Bugs Bunny and Rocky & Bullwinkle all the way to Spongebob, anchovies have been the butt of jokes, the one item that people would exempt from their "pizza with everything." In short, anchovies were the fish that nobody loved.

Eventually, of course, I tried them and found they were salty and delicious and that I'd really been having them all along in that ubiquitous sauce called Worcestershire. It had made its way into everything from my mother's salad dressing to her tuna casserole and potato salad. It was the American version of umami before we knew there was such a thing. What a revelation!

So when our neighbors invited us to dinner a few years ago and served pasta with a simple but deeply flavorful sauce made of anchovies, garlic, walnuts and parsley, I sensed I'd found a new fascination. They've since been added to my go-to tomato sauce, as well as deviled eggs and more pasta dishes and dips than you can shake a spatula at.

Pasta with Anchovy, Garlic and Walnut Sauce

1 lb. spaghetti
6 clove garlic, chopped fine
1/2 c. olive oil
2 Tbsp. capers
1 can anchovy fillets*
1/2 c. finely chopped fresh parsley
1/2 c. chopped walnut

Boil large pot of salted water. Add spaghetti.

Sauté garlic in 1/4 c. olive oil (if anchovies are packed in olive oil, include that in the 1/4 c. oil) on low heat, making sure it doesn't brown. Add anchovies to garlic and cook till anchovies dissolve. Add rest of olive oil, capers, walnuts and parsley 2-3 min. before ready to serve. Toss with pasta, and serve with parmesan and fresh ground pepper on the side.

* If using salted anchovies, wash, debone, chop finely and add at same time as capers and walnuts.

Japanese Tastes

One of the first times I had sushi was in college. I was on an overseas study program in Japan and had taken a side-trip to Fukuoka, a city on the southern-most island of Kyushu. After a day spent with friends soaking in the hot geothermal baths that dot the volcanic peaks there (ah, college…), they decided I needed to learn to play mahjong.

At some point in the middle of the night the group got peckish and ordered takeout sushi, and in what seemed like mere minutes there was a knock on the door. Like most things in Japan, our order didn't come in a flimsy cardboard box but in a beautiful covered lacquer tray that would be left in the hallway when we were finished, to be picked up and spirited away in the early hours.

Though I don't remember much about mahjong aside from the wonderful clacking noise the tiles made, or about the specifics of the sushi (no doubt incredible), it did give me an enduring love for the cool, smooth, completely fresh taste of fish untouched by heat. I'd been in the mood for that taste again when Kathryn called, saying she was in the neighborhood and wondered if I was available for lunch.

Knowing that she is also a lover of all things Japanese, I suggested meeting at Hama Sushi in Hollywood. As I wrote in a post a couple of years ago, I like this place because of its excellent food and beautiful (read: not overwrought) presentation, and also for its unassuming nature. No costumes, no whirling knives, no koto music on the sound system, just really good, well-prepared, traditional sushi.

We started with bowls of miso, a white version rather than the usual dark brown, served simply in a bowl that is meant to be picked up and drunk from, using chopsticks to pick out the cubes of deep-fried tofu. Then came a variety of mackerel, tuna and salmon sushi along with a gorgeous and delicious avocado roll, which arrived looking like an edible work of art.

As I said previously, "smashing, and I can't recommend it highly enough." It's pretty much the next best thing to being young and playing mahjong all night with friends. Or at least as close as you can get for lunch.

Details: Hama Sushi, 4232 NE Sandy Blvd. 503-249-1021.

Livin' in the Blurbs: Coming Attractions

What does a nascent farmers' market look like? Well, all you have to do is show up on a Saturday at NE 30th between Killingsworth and Emerson. Roger Konka and Norma Cravens were looking for more outlets for their fabulous Springwater Farm mushrooms. Roger had a friend who owned a vacant lot across from the foodie hotspot at NE 30th & Killingsworth (can you say Beast, Yakuza, Autentica, Fats and DOC?), so he asked if they could open a farm stand there. They did well selling 'shrooms and giving out samples of chef Kathryn LaSusa Yeomans' soups along with her easy soup kits. Now they've been joined by Draper Girls, Hood River fruit mavens, who've added produce, cider, lamb and goat meat and legumes. Looks like a market to me!

Details: Urban Farm Stand, 10 am-3 pm Saturdays on NE 30th between Killingsworth & Emerson (look for the bright blue awning).

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If you've been avoiding the Portland Farmers' Market at PSU because it's just too crowded, you can look forward to a little more elbow room. Word is just in that the market is going to spread out and take over the block immediately to the south, clearing out the bustling center area and leaving room to picnic, play and breathe. Even bigger news is that they're adding another two markets, one in Pioneer Courthouse Square downtown on Mondays from 10 am to 2 pm, and one on Northwest 23rd and Savier on Thursdays from 3 pm to 7 pm, giving us more opportunities to meet the people who grow our food. And that's always a good thing!

Details: Portland Farmers Markets. Saturdays starting Mar. 20, 8:30 am-2 pm, PSU; Mondays starting June 21, 10 am-2 pm, Pioneer Courthouse Square; Wednesdays starting May 5, 10 am-2 pm, in the S Park Blocks between SW Park and Salmon; Thursdays starting June 3, 3-7 pm, NW 23rd & Savier; Thursdays starting May 6, 3-7 pm, SE 20th & Salmon; Sundays starting May 2, 10 am-2 pm on NE 7th and Wygant.

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And if you're like me and you'd love some fresh ideas for using all that great produce, there are a couple of cooking classes coming up that look very promising:

• (Nearly) Meatless Monday: The Global Gourmet with chef Ivy Manning (left), will teach you to make great Indian, Thai, Greek and Moroccan recipes that are full of vegetables, whole grains, spices and just a little bit of meat to create satisfying meals that are nutrient rich, cost less, and have a smaller carbon footprint. Feb. 8, 6-8 pm; $40, registration required. Whole Foods Market, 3535 NE 15th Ave.
• The Food of Haiti: A Benefit for Healing Hands of Haiti with Karen Weitz. The class will cook goat stew, red beans and rice and dessert, share the meal and have copies of the recipes to take home. Feb. 12, 6-9 pm; $60, reservations required. And She Cooks! 2335 NE 41st Ave. 503-288-8196.
• Making Sushi at Home with Yuki Yamada. The class will feature hands-on directions for making miso soup, nigari, several kinds of rolls, fish cutting and sushi rice. Dinner is included. Feb. 14, 3-6 pm; $60, reservations required. And She Cooks! 2335 NE 41st Ave. 503-288-8196.

Speak Your Mind

You've heard of Big Pharma, the lobbying arm of the big pharmaceutical companies. Well, there's also Big Elsie, and it's trying to water down new federal rules governing organic milk.

The proposed new regulations would clarify the requirement that dairy cows and other ruminants consume a meaningful amount of feed from pasture and grazing. Because this means that the big dairy companies couldn't continue their practice of confining animals in feedlot style operations, they're lobbying the White House Office of Management and Budget to weaken (or eliminate) the new rule.

The Cornucopia Institute, founded by the farmers of Organic Valley, along with FOOD Farmers (the Federation of Organic Dairy Farmers) and GoodStuffNW contributor Anthony Boutard, are urging you to express your concerns to the White House about "respecting the 10 years of collaborative work that has gone into clarifying strict pending regulations for organic livestock, especially requiring pasture." View a sample message here.

You can share your views by calling 202-456-1111 or e-mailing the White House.

* * *

Readers of GoodStuffNW know that I've been reporting on the progress of the lawsuit and recent court decision in the case against the USDA over genetically engineered (GE) sugar beets being grown in the Willamette Valley.

Another similar case involves GE alfalfa, which a federal court banned until the USDA did a thorough environmental impacts statement (EIS). The draft of that statement has now been released and there is a 60-day period that ends on February 16 for the public to make comments.

The Organic Seed Alliance (OSA), based in Port Townsend, Wash., strongly believes the EIS failed to address the economic and environmental consequences of GE alfalfa and sets a dangerous precedent for future deregulation. They are also concerned that it threatens the integrity of organic seed and food systems and the National Organic Program. The Alliance worked with Center for Food Safety staff and others to put together talking points specifically for organic farmers and consumers who want to give input, as well as providing a link to submit comments.

To the Moon!

Sometimes all it takes is for someone to mention food and I get all, "I've gotta have it."

This time it was a mention of fish and chips that got my salivary glands working overtime. That and the fact that I had no clue what I was making for dinner and inspiration was, tragically, absent. Perhaps chased into a dark corner by the idea of a cool, basement-temperature Guinness to sip alongside.

You see how easily seduced I am?

So when Dave came home, I gave him my best puppy-dog eyes, all baleful and pathetic, and he caved. Though I'd seen him start to teeter when I mentioned the Guinness and how it was just a few minutes' drive away. A quick in-and-out for dinner.

We pulled up to the Moon & Sixpence in Hollywood and, once inside, had our choice of seats, the place sparsely populated with other folks there for a beer and a bite. We chose a table near the bar at a church pew that stretches along one side, the walls behind us plastered with photos of soccer players and Irish-y knickknacks.

There was a good selection of local micros on tap, including our current fave, Hopworks' Secession Black IPA, but I stuck to my guns and ordered a Guinness and fish and chips. The Guinness came first with a perfect head of pale brown foam, and with a sip of its creamy, sour darkness I knew we'd come to the right place.

At $10.95, the fish and chips are a real bargain, comprised of a long finger of English-style battered cod, crisp and crunchy. It was set on top of a pile of terrific fries, substantially sized but not the dreaded (in my case) planks, crisp on the outside and meltingly creamy on the inside. (How do they do that?)

The tartar was basic, simple stuff, tasting like it was made on the premises rather than dumped from a jar, and was offered alongside the requisite malted vinegar and catsup, Dave's condiments of choice. We drank, we sat, we talked, we ate and, like the best pubs, it was warm and welcoming, a low-key night out when a pint and a bite feel just right.

Farm Bulletin: Perfect Hominy

Most of us think of popcorn when we think of dried corn kernels, but Anthony Boutard reminds us there is another delicious use for them. You can find his Amish and Calais Flint corn at the Ayers Creek Farm booth at the Hillsdale Farmers' Market this Sunday, January 24, from 10 am till 2 pm.

Hominy is corn that is steeped in an alkaline solution overnight, and then washed and cooked gently until the kernels "bloom." The midwestern tribes made hominy from the lye of wood ash. That practice was adopted by the early settlers. "Spanish hominy" was made by using hydrated lime instead of lye. Hydrated lime, or cal in Spanish, is used to make nixtamal, which is ground to made tortillas and tamales. Food grade hydrated lime is readily available in stores selling to the Latino community. Our Amish Butter popcorn (left and right, below) makes a very good white hominy. Roy's Calais Flint (top photo) makes a fine yellow hominy.

Here is how to make Spanish hominy. But be very careful with the hydrated lime, as it is very caustic and should be kept well away from children and careless adults.

In an enamel pot, add two tablespoons of hydrated lime per pound of corn, then add water to cover the kernels by an inch or so. Heat the pan to a bare simmer, don't boil, and let it cook for 40 minutes to an hour. The solution will turn a lurid yellow and the fragrance of corn will fill the kitchen. Take the pan off the heat and let the mixture steep overnight at room temperature or on the back stoop. The next day, strain off the lime and liquid into the compost bucket. Rinse the kernels vigorously several times until they are clean. The outer skin of the kernel, the pericarp, will wash away. The orange and white kernels look just like candy corn.

If you have a slow cooker, you can use it to cook the hominy. Refill the pot with the corn and fresh water. Cover the kernels well as they will absorb a good deal of water. Bring to a boil and then simmer until the kernels split open as little flowers. The hominy is now ready to use in a pozole or soup.

Making hominy is messy and, though the preparation is simple and not a lot of work, it is hardly fast food. In the early 19th century, urban living quarters were rudimentary and many people lived in boarding houses without their own kitchen. From Philadelphia to Portland, and south to New Orleans, hominy vendors plied the streets of cities, along with pepper pot (tripe stew) and other prepared food vendors.

Tripe is a dish best prepared far from where it will be consumed, as the intestinal fragrance lingers in the house. Prepared hominy and tripe were cheap and nourishing food for working people. The same combination, hominy and tripe, is found in the Mexican menudos. We are a house divided on the matter of tripe, but find satisfying harmony in hominy.

Just Say Nuts to Dinner

It started with the best of intentions, like when I bought a crate of peaches in the summer, thinking of all the wonderful pies and crisps I was going to make with them. Maybe I'd even get around to making jam. Yeah!

Then a couple of days later they all got ripe at the same time, in concert with some deadlines I'd managed to put off until the last minute, and I didn't have time to peel, chop, boil and can them.

The romesco…so lovely!

So you can guess what happened when a friend called with a great deal on roasted hazelnuts from Barb and Fritz Foulke of Freddy Guys in Monmouth. She was buying several pounds to ship to a friend in Missouri and could get a bulk price if several other people wanted to buy a few pounds, too. I was so in!

Fortunately, hazelnuts (I've ranted about calling them hazelnuts v. filberts before), unlike peaches, are easy to dump in bags and freeze, and they'd been waiting patiently for me to get around to doing something with them. The other night provided the opportunity when, jonesing for a fish fix, I brought home a two-pound filet of mahi mahi.

A hazelnut crust sounded quick and simple, and since there were some red peppers sitting in the vegetable bin that needed to be used, I decided to make a romesco to go along with it. With some roasted fingerling potatoes that could go in the oven at the same time as the fish and a bunch of steamed broccolini, it was a dinner to be proud of.

If only peaches were so easy!

Hazelnut-crusted Mahi-Mahi with Hazelnut-Red Pepper Romesco

For the fish:
2 lb. filet of mahi mahi or any firm-fleshed white fish such as halibut*
Olive oil
Zest of 1 lemon
1/2 c. roasted hazelnuts
1 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. pepper

For the romesco:
3 red peppers, roasted
1/3 c. hazelnuts
3 lg. garlic cloves
2 aci civri peppers, dried (or 1 tsp. red pepper flakes)
4 Tbsp. olive oil
1 Tbsp. smoked Spanish paprika (pimenton)
2 tsp. red wine vinegar
Salt and pepper to taste

Preheat oven to 500°.

For the fish, put hazelnuts in food processor and pulse until finely chopped but not pulverized. Remove to small mixing bowl and combine with other ingredients.

Place filet in roasting dish skin-side down and brush with olive oil. Coat evenly with hazelnut mixture, pressing it gently to compact it. Roast in oven for 20 minutes or until cooked through.

For the romesco, place all ingredients in food processor and process till smooth.

* The filet can be left whole or sliced into 1 1/2" wide strips before brushing with olive oil.

Expanding Her Horizons

Female moose, having heard that Lisa was in the area looking for milk.

Despite the crushing disappointment of not being able to find a moose to milk on her recent trip to Montana, intrepid Cheese Czarina Lisa Jacobs of Jacobs Creamery pulled herself up by her new polka-dotted bootstraps and got back to work in her cheese room. You can find her at the Hillsdale Farmers' Market this Sunday (1/24) from 10 am till 2 pm. And if you have any moose milk lying about, she'd be thrilled if you could drop it off.

I have some unfortunate news to share. Sadly, a very important member of my cheesemaking crew passed over to the other side.

My gram scale is scheduled to be picked up in the morning from the recycling bin where it is resting in peace. It was early Sunday morning when I realized we had made our last batch of cheese together, and by Sunday afternoon I was scrambling like an egg to try to find a new one.

Where does one find a gram scale on Sunday afternoon in Nowheresville, you may wonder? You don't! There are no gram scales to be found.

After consulting a friend, I headed to Portland and out to 82nd Avenue to what was called a "head shop" where they sell glass pipes, novelty smoking accessories and things to smoke.

Before the transaction was complete I started to feel the giggles coming on because I was certain that the young man behind the counter thought I might be a drug dealer, especially after questioning the fellow on the accuracy of the scales and paying with cash. That's when I not-so-casually pointed out that I was a cheese maker and that I measure out my culture with the scale.

One eyebrow went up and he said, "Uh-huh."

I went to start my next batch of cheese thankful that cheesemaking had widened the varieties of stores I shop in.

Oh, and there are a few seats left in my cheese class at Sweetwares on Sunday evening, Jan. 24. We will have a cheese sampling (with some of my newest creations) and some of the finest picks out of the Jacobs Creamery aging room, as well as a light dinner. The class is from 5 to 7 pm and it will cost $75. You can call 503-546-3737 to reserve your seat.

Call It Shopera

Like, if Portland opera singers got a call to gather at a market or, say, a farmers' market? Hmmmm…

Cheese Lover's Day!

January 20th is National Cheese Lover's Day, so it's appropriate that I share a few cheesy items that have crossed the transom:

Steve Jones of Steve's Cheese, Northwest Thurman's cheesiest outlet, has announced today that he's packing up and moving to the east side to open Cheese Bar. Planned as a cheese shop, wine (and beer) bar and café, it'll expand on the original shop's extensive selection of cheeses and add artisan salumi and dry goods, as well as small plates, sandwiches and salads. Look for it to open in March at 6031 SE Belmont.

And in related news, the Queen of Cheese, Tami Parr, has posted a list of uses for all those leftover cheesy bits that seem to collect in the cheese compartment of the fridge, including shredding them and making grilled cheese sandwiches, frico or fondue, as well as using the rinds to flavor soups and sauces or feeding them (in small quantities) to your dogs as treats. Brilliant!

The last morsel is a suggestion to give yourself (and grateful family and friends) the gift of cheese by learning how to make it in your own kitchen. Check the calendar listings on the left to find a plethora of cheese classes taught by local experts.