Hidden Gem: Eastmoreland Market & Kitchen

You'd think, wouldn't you, that someone who writes about local food and the best places to find it would have a comprehensive list of suggestions when the subject of lunch comes up. But when I get asked that very question, my mind inevitably goes blank. Lunch? Uh…um…

It happened again just the other day when my friend Kathryn and I were wandering around in Eastmoreland and we were getting a bit peckish. Jade Teahouse, a personal favorite, was nearby in Sellwood, as was the cart pod on 13th across from the Sellwood library. Just as we were getting into the car to head in that direction, I remembered that somewhere, tucked away among the stately homes on the curving, tree-lined streets of this neighborhood, was a charming gourmet grocery-cum-café.

Called the Eastmoreland Market & Kitchen, I'd been there a couple of times just after they opened and this felt like the right time to return. Plus at this point we'd been talking about food options for some time and it was making us ravenous. Luckily the menu board was packed with options from a burgers and a tasty-sounding muffuletta to a grilled chicken sandwich and a pork belly special.

We ordered at the counter and, after admiring the meats and cheeses in the long case (which of course made us even hungrier) and the imported pastas, condiments and even my favorite Spanish flatbreads (hungrier still!), we chose a table in the front window and were relieved by the prompt arrival of our lunch.

My pork belly sandwich (top photo) was stacked with meaty slices of perfectly braised meat and pickled vegetables laid between halves of a crisp-crusted ciabatta roll, a sandwich that would give Ben Dyer's famed Laurelhurst Market sandwiches a run for their money. Kathryn's grilled chicken (right, above) with goat cheese and house chutney was no slouchy effort, either, and satisfied both our hunger and the feeling that, at least yet, I haven't quite lost it altogether.

Details: Eastmoreland Market & Kitchen, 3616 SE Knapp. 503-771-1186.

Sign of Spring

A secret sign of spring? Eggs.

No, not as in the colored ones the Easter Bunny hides. I'm talking about the eggs laid by hens that live outdoors, eating what grass and bugs they can find, supplemented by vegetable trimmings and organic grain. While most of us city folks don't even think about the seasonality of a product we pick up in neat little boxes piled dozens deep at the grocery store, people who raise chickens outdoors know that winter can be lean in the egg department.

But my friend Clare just sent out an e-mail to her "egg CSA" customers this week letting us know her girls have upped production to the point where she and Brian can't eat them all. That means there'll be sweet, organic eggs aplenty with more to come in the near future as temperatures warm and daylight hours lengthen.

Carbonara, anyone?

Truffle Haiku: The People's Turn to Choose!

Diamonds? Meh. Couture gown? Sigh. A little red sports car? I dunno. But give me an Oregon truffle, particularly shaved over pasta or a rich risotto, and I'm all yours, baby.

My friend Kathryn LaSusa Yeomans, chef and mistress of the markets at Roger Konka and Norma Cravens' Springwater Farm, loves the subterranean fungal fruit as much as I do, and runs a truffle haiku contest on Valentine's Day every year for those moved to poetry over the subject. This year's winner was announced yesterday on her blog, The Farmer's Feast, and now is your chance to pick the People's Choice award for the 17 syllables that best describe the euphoria brought on by Oregon's native truffle.

So scan, analyze or just close your eyes and point at the screen to pick your favorite. Leave your name (or pseudonym) and the number of your choice in the Comments below. The haiku with the most votes will win a prize for the writer, and a winner will be drawn (and a prize awarded) from those who voted for it. Both will be announced at noon on Monday, Feb. 21, so pick your winner now and check back on Monday!

1:
Hidden Dame Truffles
Black and White Knobs of Pleasure
How My Mouth Waters

2:
First befriend a swine
Next profess your Truffle wish:
“Bejewel my pasta”

3:
Rooted from the damp earth
a little bit of heaven
sautéed for dinner

4:
Black or white delight
on all my favorite dishes
so trufflicious

5:
A kiss on her lips
A trifle for a truffle
A heart on a sleeve

6:
They lie underground
Waiting to be discovered
Heaven in the dirt

7:
Truffles, you grow in the ground
Pigs love you.
We love you also

8:
Some may dare call you
ascomycetous fungus
But truffles, you’re loved.

9:
I’m the hunter pig.
I am going to find you.
Truffles, you are MINE!

10:
Trufficulteurs find
some bumpy, wrinkled masses.
Thankful evermore.

11:

Underneath the duff
There lies most marvelous stuff
Treasures of Truffles

12:
Oh! Dew Drop Riches
Forested in your niches
Take me there again

13:
The foragers gaze
Only broken by smiles
In bountiful woods

14:
Black and white are tight
on all my favorite dishes,
so trufflicious!

15:
Dirt worm chance
My pig’s nose
Found it and an arrowhead.

16:
Truffle dance,
melt sensuously in
to the void I fear.

17:
It was our first time
You and I unearthed much more
Now we search as one

18:
How best to woo you?
Shaved lightly over pasta
Fragrant lumps of love

Photos above by Kathryn LaSusa Yeomans.

One Nation Under Ale

Sorry to say it, but Fred Arnmisen and Carrie Brownstein's show "Portlandia" doesn't really do the city justice, though, as a comedy of manners and quirks, it can be occasionally amusing. The novel by Ernest Callenbach, Ecotopia, comes closer in describing the sustainable utopia that emerges when the states of Oregon, Washington and the northern half of California secede from the United States.

Another effort brands the bio-region that stretches down the West Coast from Alaska to Baja Mexico as Salmon Nation, and we've all heard about the Pacific Rim, a socioeconomic designation for the countries bordering the Pacific Ocean.

Christian Ettinger of Hopworks has borrowed from the independence movement dubbed Cascadia, defined as the territory extending from British Columbia south to Oregon, and created the official beer of the revolution. Called Secession, it is "characterized by an alliance of Northwest hop flavors as formidable as the Cascade Mountain range." Organic and sustainably produced, it's made, as it says on the label, with "malts as dark as a moonless night" and is available in bottles at most stores that carry Hopworks' beers.

But I'd encourage you to get a few friends together, head to a pub that has it on tap and toast what could be a very tasty, not to mention timely, revolution.

Details: Hopworks Secession Cascadian Dark Ale. Available in bottles at retail outlets and at Hopworks Brewery, 2944 SE Powell Blvd. 503-232-4677.

Getting to the Root

Contributor Jim Dixon of RealGoodFood has been a big influence on me, especially when it comes to root vegetables. Growing up in a family where a can of creamed corn qualified as a vegetable, it's been refreshing to get comfortable with these ultimate comfort foods. Below you'll find Jim's recipes for a celery root and sweet potato gratin and one for creamed kale, both of which I've been working on here at home (a photo of my dish using kale, above; recipe to come). Great minds think alike!

Celery Root and Sweet Potato Gratin

Celery root looks awful and requires serious (but easy) paring to get to the good stuff, and the results are worth the effort. I’ve used a swivel peeler, but I think the best approach is slicing away the exterior with a chef’s knife. The root end holds a lot of dirt, and while I’ve carved around the crevasses, these days I don’t try so hard to save every little morsel. However you choose to attack the thing, you want to end up with mostly creamy looking interior. Cut into chunks.

For this gratin, I use white flesh sweet potatoes (as opposed to the sweeter orange fleshed varieties often sold as yams, but really just different varieties of sweet potato).   Peel and cube as much as you need to yield about the same amount as the celery root. Steam them together until tender, then mash coarsely. [They're also terrific if you take the cubes, toss 'em in olive oil and roast in a 350° oven till tender, about 45 min. Then mash or leave them cubed. - KAB]

Add a generous pour of olive oil (start with a few tablespoons or so; add more if it seems dry), a few shakes of pimenton (smoked paprika from Spain), and salt. Spread into a baking dish, top with bread crumbs, and bake at 350° until nicely browned.

Creamed Greens

Inspired by the way Jason French cooks this at Ned Ludd, I’ve been making creamed greens for the past few weeks. I’m pretty sure Jason’s have some pork parts, but I kept things a little more simple. A splash of fish sauce provides an extra hit of umami. At Ned Ludd the greens go on brioche toasted in the wood oven; at my house (and for the ski weekend) it’s New Seasons’ wheat levain.

Chiffonade a bunch of collards by rolling several leaves in a tight bundle, then slicing across the stem into half inch ribbons. Cut these into slightly shorter pieces. Chop an onion and cook it in a bit of olive oil for a few minutes. Add the greens, a shot of fish sauce (maybe a tablespoon or so), and maybe a half cup of water. Cover, reduce heat to a simmer, and cook for at least 40 minutes.

When the greens are very tender, remove the lid, add about a half cup of cream (or creme fraiche), bump up the heat to medium, and let them cream bubble away gently for another 15 minutes or so. Serve over root vegetable gratin (recipe above) or toast or, if you don’t want to use a knife and fork, cut the bread into cubes and put the creamy greens on top.

Japanese If You Please

We paused at the dark mouth of the wormhole, a nearly invisible doorway in an anonymous strip mall off Canyon Road sandwiched between the blaring fluorescent signs advertising Accident Care chiropractic clinic and Country Korean Restaurant.

No, I'm not talking about a sad attempt at a remake of a Twilight Zone episode or that sixties classic, The Time Tunnel, with James Darren as handsome Dr. Tony Newman, head of Project Tic Toc, a secret government attempt to master time travel. In rushing to finish the machine, he gets trapped in time but somehow always manages to meet a sultry woman who helps him out of whatever jam he gets himself into. (Can you tell I was a big fan of the show?)

What I'm so very laboriously getting at (sorry) is a second too-long-delayed trip out to Yuzu, an under-the-radar, Japanese-on-the-cheap restaurant buried in the aforementioned strip mall. The  Fred Meyer across the street and a TJ Maxx around the corner make it hard to imagine the authentic Japanese izakaya experience you'll find here. The chef's vision steers the menu and everything that comes out of the kitchen is prepared and plated with casual exquisiteness.

With a pitcher of Sapporo sitting on table, we started ordering a few of the small plates, which included a braised pork belly that was so crazily melt-in-your mouth delicious that we immediately requested another one. A plate scattered with thin, tender slices of beef tongue had everyone at the table moaning embarrassingly, and a wedge of smoky grilled salmon should have every Northwest fish leaping out of the water begging to get the treatment this one did.

Then came other plates, too many to mention (or remember)…crispy and flavorful fried rice balls, a trio of tsukemono pickles that were oh-so-reminiscent of the homemade salty, briny delights I had in Fukuoka, then a fish egg and seaweed dish that sent the whole evening over the top.

I'm telling you, if you're looking for the real deal and don't mind heading out Beaverton way…closer than Hillsboro by a long stretch…then you seriously need to give this place a try. Short of finding a wormhole, it's the fastest ticket to Japan you'll find this side of PDX.

Details: Yuzu, 4130 SW 117th Ave., Beaverton. Phone 503-350-1801.

Farm Bulletin: Call to Action

It's not often that I ask readers to take action on an issue, but in this case the issue is the continued economic survival of many small Oregon farmers, the ones who depend on direct sales to customers at farmers' markets. And who better to speak to those issues than contributor Anthony Boutard of Ayers Creek, who was on the bipartisan agriculture committee that helped draft HB 2336 (link to full text at bottom). Please consider contacting your state legislators about this important bill.

The “Direct Farm Marketing Bill” has passed out of committee February 7th and is going to the floor of the Oregon House of Representatives for critical vote. We need people to call their representatives and urge a ‘yes’ vote on HB 2336. Click on the link for the phone number and email for your representative.

Here is why this bill is important:

Over the last two decades, agriculture in Oregon has seen a marked increase in venues for selling agricultural products directly to the consumer. Farmers’ markets, community supported agriculture (CSA), and buying clubs have increased without a clear place in the regulatory structure. Historically, roadside stands selling produce, eggs and honey have been treated as exempt from licensing, but these new venues stretch that definition. HB 2336 provides necessary statutory guidance on this issue with a balanced and sensible regulatory approach to direct marketing. The provisions of the bill are the result of a year’s worth of meetings between the Oregon Department of Agriculture, the Oregon Farmers’ Market Association, farmers and legislators. This working group was chaired by Representative Matt Wingard.

The bill identifies foods that, from a food safety perspective, are regarded as either non-hazardous, or minimally hazardous, and that can be safely produced by the farmer and sold directly to the consumer without licenses or inspection. I want to emphasize that, with the help of ODA staff, these definitions are tightly drawn. Foods that pose a greater hazard, such as sprouts, low-acid canned vegetables and fruits, and baked goods, are not included and must be processed in a licensed facility. The bill includes labeling requirements so the food can be traced to its source. It must be stressed that farmers’ market rules still prevail, regardless of licensing requirements. These organizations will still determine who can participate in the market, and what they can sell.

With its provisions regarding preserves and pickles, this bill provides room for innovation at a small-scale. New ideas invariably start at this level whether it is in someone’s kitchen or garage. Allowing farmers to try out new products at a small, manageable scale is an important step in fostering innovation. HB 2336 also includes a provision that allows the ODA to expand the list of foods that can be prepared at the farm, consistent with food safety. With the $20,000 annual limit on sales of these foods, the bill set up a clear threshold where the farmer must shift into a licensed facility. Finally, the ODA can withdraw the exemption in cases where the public health is deemed in jeopardy.

At the public hearing for HB 2336, the NW Food Processors and the Farm Bureau came out in opposition to the bill. Their testimony undermined the support of some members of the committee who were not part of the earlier process. In the work session, Representative Wingard and the staff from the Oregon Department of Agriculture did a great job clarifying what the bill does and doesn't do. It was a long session for them, but they answered all the questions carefully and thoroughly. Their measured presentations eased the concerns of many members.

HB 2336 passed its first legislative hurdle Monday (2/7) evening when it passed out of the House Committee on Agriculture and Natural Resources on a bipartisan 6 to 2 vote with a "do pass" recommendation. The "nay" votes were also bipartisan, one Democrat and one Republican, for what it is worth.

The bill now goes to the House floor. The lobbyists for the NW Food Processors and the Farm Bureau will likely try to stop this bill on the House floor. It is critical that citizens express their confidence in the farmers' markets by calling or emailing their representative. The floor vote will likely be on Wednesday (2/16), so the contact needs to be made quickly. All that is needed is a statement in support of HB 2336, and a nice word or two about farmers’ markets and buying directly from a farmer to underscore the bill’s purpose. If you can relay a positive story or experience, even better. Legislators like to hear they are doing something positive, especially this session when they being called upon to cut services.

---

Update: The Direct Farm Marketing Bill passed in the Oregon House 45-13. Thank you all for your calls and messages to your House reps!

For a pdf of the complete text of HB2336, click here.

Lovin' That Lemon

What could be better than a delicious dinner that's ready in less time than it takes to boil water and cook pasta? This superbly fresh Meyer lemon pasta dish is almost too good to be true, and it could be a strong competitor to my go-to quick dinner recipe, pasta carbonara.

It's also infinitely mutable, with obvious additions like canned West Coast albacore or a tossing with a bunch of baby arugula. You could even throw in some well-chopped black olives, my preferred variety being oil-cured. And, of course, it's totally acceptable with regular lemons when the Meyers are out of season.

But really, it's best as its simple, straightforward self, perfect as an entrée with a salad but also appropriate as a side with, say, grilled fish. So good!

Meyer Lemon Pasta

Inspired by the original at Franny's via WordsToEatBy

1 lb. dried pasta
4 Tbsp. olive oil, split
2 cloves garlic, finely minced
1/2 c. bread crumbs
Zest of 1 Meyer lemon
Juice of 2 Meyer lemons
1 c. parmesan, grated, plus more for sprinkling
2 Tbsp. parsley, finely chopped

Bring large pot of water to boil. Add pasta and cook till al dente.

While pasta cooks, heat 1 Tbsp. oil in sauté pan over medium heat, add garlic, stir briefly to heat, then add bread crumbs and stir till toasted. Set aside to cool. In serving bowl, combine zest, juice and 3 Tbsp. olive oil (chopped preserved lemons would also be terrific). Whisk to emulsify slightly. Add cheese and stir. When pasta is done, drain and add to lemon mixture in bowl along with parsley and bread crumbs. Toss and serve with additional parmesan for sprinkling at the table.

An Offer I Couldn't Refuse, Pt. 3: A Grand Tour

Portland has long talked about opening a year-round, indoor public market where locals and visitors alike can find the best of the region's bounty and buy it direct from local growers and producers. Examples like Seattle's Pike Place Market and San Francisco's Ferry Building Marketplace are touted as prime examples of successful urban markets promoting area producers.

The argument has been made by some that the city's existing farmers' markets fill that niche, with around 40 in the metro area on every day of the week in season, with four of those running year-round, and that it's not necessary for the city to invest millions to build one. Others object to locating the proposed James Beard Public Market downtown, preferring instead to place it on Portland's inner east side along the river, near what was, in the recent past, a thriving produce district that is now developing into a hub for local restaurants, distilleries and retailers.

Those discussions aside (kind of), one need look no further than Vancouver's Granville Island Public Market to find a thriving market in a formerly neglected area of the city across the water from downtown…wait…that sounds familiar…that delivers on its promise to provide top-quality, local provisions. Not only that, but it's both a shopping mecca for tourists as well as an active industrial hub, with a boatworks that serves the nearby marina…hmmm…more deja vu…and a cooking school, a fish distributor and other commercial businesses. Like San Francisco's, it also has a popular farmers' market once a week in summer and fall.

My whirlwind tour, entertainingly led by Pacific Institute of Culinary Arts sommelier and director Tim Ellison, hit the high points of the foodier portions of the market. Those included Finest at Sea, a commercial fish processor, smoker and direct retailer, whose offerings were so fresh that it was tempting to tuck a big burping bag of Northwest oysters under my coat to enjoy in my room later. Think anyone would have noticed?

Moving past the flower vendors and inside the market, we were confronted by the full-to-bursting cases of cured meats at Oyama Sausage Company. Then there were the dozens of crocks and bowls of olives, pickles and other antipasti at Zara's Deli, a place I wish I could transport wholesale back to Portland.

Then there was the outlet of all things edible in the province, Edible BC, providing shoppers with products previously available only at farms or in regional stores, like gourmet crackers, jams, chutney, cheeses and chocolates. And they've even got a tasting bar where the (of course) nice person behind the counter will encourage you to try before you buy. (Click the link to browse the full list of vendors.)

And if I thought Ellison was the most excited Canadian I'd ever seen, he couldn't hold a candle to head Edible guy Eric Pateman, who walked us through his plan to take over the world…um…I mean break ground on a new restaurant called Edible at the Market that is scheduled to debut later this year. Open seven days a week for breakfast, lunch and dinner, its menu will consist of 80% British Columbia cuisine using locally sourced ingredients, with the remaining 20% of the menu items featuring other Canadian cuisines (poutine, anyone?).

Plus he dropped the bomb that the plan is for the Edible BC to be rebranded Edible Canada in the near future, with a nationwide chain of Edible Canada stores to open in participating Fairmont hotels and also in Canada's major airports. See what I mean about taking over the world? This guy thinks big!

Details: Granville Island Public Market, 1661 Duranleau St., Vancouver, BC. 604-666-6655.

For more of my culinary tour of this gorgeous city, see Part 1: An Offer I Couldn't Refuse and Part 2: Having a Gas.

A Meatloaf By Any Other Name

Though it wasn't traumatic enough to be called an "issue," it took me years to come around on the subject of meatloaf. And I can't blame my mother; it wasn't her fault she was so traumatized by her dietetics professors in college that "trichinosis" was a word used in conjunction with "meat" in our household. And apparently I wasn't the only one, as contributor Jim Dixon of RealGoodFood alludes to in his introduction below.

Polpettone

It sounds better than meatloaf. Depending on your formative years and early meatloaf experience, you probably either love or hate it. If the latter is true for you, an overly dense, leaden version likely put you off. Try mine.

For a pound of ground meat* (beef, or a mixture of beef with pork or chicken; I used buffalo and yak from Pine Mountain recently), finely chop half an onion, a couple of cloves of garlic, a carrot, a celery stalk, and enough green cabbage to give you about a cup. I chop the vegetables coarsely then process in the Cuisinart for a few seconds. Cook in a bit of olive oil for about 10 minutes, then set aside to cool.

Combine the ground meat, cooked vegetables, a couple of eggs, a cup or so of bread crumbs, half cup or so of freshly grated Parmigiano, sea salt, and pepper. If you like, toss in a bit of marjoram, thyme, or oregano; a few slices of finely diced mortadella make it even more Italian. Use your hands to mix thoroughly, then form a freestyle loaf on a sheet pan or cast iron skillet. Top with a few slices of bacon or other fatty pork if you like, and bake at 350 for about 45 minutes. Let the loaf cool off a little before slicing.

[* When making Jim's recipe, I adjusted the amounts as follows: 2 lbs. ground meat (I used half beef, half pork), 1 med. onion, 2 large cloves garlic, a carrot, one stalk celery, 1 c. cabbage, 2 eggs, 1 c. bread crumbs, 1/2 c. Parmesan, then the rest of the recipe as is (without the mortadella, though that sounds like a great idea). And I always mix mine with a spoon or hefty fork, since squishing it with my hands tends to make a denser loaf. Using two pounds of meat for the loaf would normally serve 4 for dinner unless you're pigs like we are, the three of us polishing it off easily. - KAB]

Classes for the Masses

Ever wish you could wield a chef's knife like a pro? Or make sushi at home that's as good as the expensive stuff in Japanese restaurants? How about breaking down whole animals into their component parts?

Two Portland chefs, both instructors at local culinary schools, have started up a cooking school for the rest of us called Portland's Culinary Workshop. Its mission is to teach us to have more confidence in the kitchen, not only in using tools but by getting hands-on experience in braising, preparing smashing meals with raw foods and making salads and burgers sing with vinaigrettes and aioli mayonnaise (just a few of the plethora of offerings).

The difference between these classes and others in the city is the cost, most under $65, and that they all contain a big fun factor, like a class called "Mind Your Meat Mistress" that teaches about different cuts of meat, how to cook them to make the most of their flavors and then how to cut up a whole chicken. Chef Melinda Casady (left in top photo), one of the two owners, teaches this class and is known across the city for her butchering skills, as well as her ability to debone a chicken with lightning speed while blindfolded. (Whether she'll be wearing leather and carrying a whip remains to be determined.)

Susana Holloway (right in top photo), the other half of the pair and, in the interests of full disclosure, a good friend and neighbor of mine, will be bringing her mastery of technique along with a knowledge of international cuisines gleaned from her upbringing in Brazil and other countries. An incredible gardener, she's also going to be offering a class called "Plot to Plate" about making meals from food you grow yourself or, as the class description says, you'll "find out what grows together and goes together."

Another unique feature are lectures with an emphasis not just on cooking but on understanding the dynamics of our food system and how to make choices that promote our own health and that of the environment. With titles like "Feed Your Body: Nutrition 101," "Science Geeks in the Kitchen," "Exploring Genetically Modified Foods" and "The Shopping Dilemma, the Ethics of What We Buy," these promise to be loaded with useful info for making responsible decisions.

The two also plan to teach folks to make their own baby food, cook for special diets, and have continuing education classes for culinary professionals as well as team-building classes for companies that want to boost morale and encourage teamwork. Plus they've committed to displaying two blackboards that are dedicated to their current passions like must-have kitchen tools, favorite restaurants, food movies and produce. Can you imagine anything more fun?

Details: Portland's Culinary Workshop, 807 N Russell St. 503-512-0447.

Improve on Perfection? You Be the Judge!

Passion is a funny thing. I've been on a Meyer lemon tear for the last couple of weeks and, even as I type this, two of the yellow-orange orbs are sitting on my kitchen counter begging to be used. Their smooth skins cry to be caressed and their scent is perfuming the whole room.

I've squeezed their juice into a crab risotto. A curling strip of peel has done its magic as the final touch in our house Negroni. And just the other day Dave ran across a recipe that called for the juice of Meyer lemons in a Whiskey Sour. The original Whiskey Sour, using regular lemons, is considered a perfect cocktail, so the possibility of improving on perfection was tempting.

"Should we give it a try?" he asked. Mais oui!

With balance like Olga Korbut, it's one of those cocktails, as my brother is wont to say, that's waaaaaaaaay too easy to drink. It's the perfect pre-dinner cocktail, not too heavy or sweet, an aperitif rather than a gut bomb. And if you want to give your guests a choice of tart or sweet, take a page from Vancouver, BC, bartender Shaun Layton of L'Abattoir and swipe just half the rim with a curve of extra fine sugar. Freaking brilliant!

So what's the next recipe that's going to send me into paroxysms of Meyer lemon lust? Preserved lemons? A Meyer lemon pie? I can't wait to find out!

Meyer Lemon Whiskey Sour
Adapted from Nora Maynard in The Kitchn

1 1/2 oz. whiskey (rye or bourbon)
1 oz. freshly squeezed Meyer lemon juice
1/4-1/2 oz. simple syrup*, according to taste
Amarena cherry
Sugar rim, optional

Place all ingredients in a cocktail shaker with ice. Shake vigorously and strain into a cocktail glass (with optional sugar rim). Drop in an amarena cherry. Makes one cocktail.

* Simple syrup: Equal parts sugar and water and heated in a saucepan on the stove, stirred until the sugar dissolves completely, then chilled.

Crustacean Celebration: Crab Risotto

You see, I was watching this show called "Fringe" on the laptop after listening to Brian Greene talking about the existence of an infinite number of parallel universes, called the multiverse, on Fresh Air. (And yes, I'm an NPR junkie.) As Terry gamely tried to ask intelligent questions of the quantum physicist, you could actually hear her brain start to wheeze as it struggled to absorb the advanced concepts involved. (My favorite question was when she asked Greene if his pals in physics circles think he's off his nut.)

I was glad I had the simple, straightforward, science fiction-y TV series about a parallel universe where different outcomes exist, and the way that even small acts can have enormous consequences down the road. Stuff we all can get our heads around, right? Plus they talk about food a fair amount, like a recipe for the perfect strawberry milkshake.

But what got me on this tangent was the fantastic crab risotto that we had for dinner as we huddled around the screen, watching Walter, Peter, Olivia and Astrid try to figure out what the Watchers were up to this time. And I sincerely hoped that in a few parallel universes they have crabs as wonderful as our Dungeness, and that in at least one parallel dining room a little family bearing a striking resemblance to ours was having this bit of creamy comfort before crab season ends.

A Very Crabby Risotto ( or Lemony Crab Risotto)

2 Tbsp. butter or margarine
3 Tbsp. olive oil
1/2 c. shallots, finely chopped
2 c. arborio rice (I used Fior di Riso, an Italian variety)
1 c. dry white wine
2 c. fish stock, warmed
2 c. chicken stock, warmed
1/4-1/3 c. Meyer lemon juice (regular lemons can be used, as well, and chopped preserved lemons would be great)
1 tsp. lemon zest
1/2 c. green peas (thawed if using frozen)
1 egg yolk
1/2 c. parmesan, plus additional for garnish
1-2 lbs. crab meat (I used the meat from two small crabs)*
2 Tbsp. chives, finely chopped

Heat butter and oil in medium saucepan over medium heat, then add onion and garlic and sauté until golden, 2-3 minutes. Add rice and stir to combine, approx. 1 min. Add white wine and stir until absorbed. Combine warmed fish and chicken stocks, then start adding stock a cup at a time until rice is slightly al dente. Remove from heat and add lemon juice, lemon zest, peas, egg yolk, parmesan and 1 Tbsp. chives all at once and stir rapidly to combine. Add crab meat and fold in gently so it doesn't break up too much. Garnish with remaining chives and serve immediately with additional parmesan for sprinkling.

* If you're bringing servings to the table rather than serving family style, you can reserve an appropriate number of larger chunks of crab for garnish.

Check out this season's Crustacean Celebration series: Pasta with Crab and Radicchio, Deadly? I Think Not, The Big Boys Weigh In and Let Them Eat Cakes. See also: last season's series starting with Hot Artichoke and Crab Dip (and links to other posts in the series).

How Do I Love Thee?

Who doesn't love little fried cakes? Contributor Jim Dixon of Real Good Food has been cataloging the many and varied forms that fritter love can take, and shares another one of them here.

As you may know, I like to make little fried things I call fritters, usually with some kind of vegetable. Sometimes I’ll cook the vegetable just to make the fritters, but more often I use whatever leftovers I have around.

This batch began as roasted sweet potatoes and parsnips, but would work with just sweet potatoes (either orange or white-fleshed, cooked just to make fritters) or any other combination of root vegetables. Roasting concentrates and caramelizes the sugars in the sweet potatoes, so the leftovers would be my first choice. The farro is a nice addition, but could also be left out.

Roasted Sweet Potato, Parsnip and Farro Fritters

Combine a cup or so of coarsely mashed leftover roasted sweet potatoes and parsnips with chopped shallot, a half cup of cooked farro, a pinch of sea salt and a quarter cup of freshly grated Parmigiano Reggiano. Break an egg in to the mix and stir, then add a quarter cup or so of good bread crumbs. The mixture should hold together in a spoon; you can add another egg if too dry, more breadcrumbs if too wet.

Use enough extra virgin olive oil to coat the bottom of a heavy skillet; heat until the oil begins to ripple. Use a pair of spoons to form walnut-size fritters. Slip carefully into  the oil and flatten gently. Cook until brown (these brown more quickly because of the sugars in the sweet potatoes, so watch them), then turn and cook the other side. Sprinkle with flor de sal and eat hot. Makes about 8-10 fritters.

Farm Bulletin: Patience Is a Hard Virtue

 

This week's bulletin from contributor Anthony Boutard of Ayers Creek Farm, nestled in the sylvan hills of the Wapato Valley near Gaston, is short, sweet and pungent.

Shy on greens this week. We are waiting for the late winter growth to start, and it will. We should have more for the next two markets. Once the shift happens, the greens start to grow quickly, and will double in two weeks. The sun is riding higher and the day is increasing. In the meantime, we drum our fingers.

Budget Cuts: Fit to Be Tied

There's something about seeing a large hunk of pork in a meat case for $3.99 a pound that calls to me, especially when it's a sustainably and humanely raised pork leg roast. While lots of folks love the loin, that cut tends to be very lean, lacking the fat that makes the roast moist and juicy. I also happen to think the leg has a lot more flavor, kind of like the difference between chicken breast and thigh meat.

In this roast, the removal of the leg bone leaves a nice slash through the leg that's perfect for filling with whatever stuffing ingredients you happen to have on hand. A stroll through Epicurious gave me the inspiration I needed to use some leftover prosciutto, a lemon, some breadcrumbs and garlic for a different twist on a more traditional stuffing.

Even better, in the process of rummaging through the vegetable bin I pulled out a couple of yams, a turnip and some kale from the farmers' market. Then it occurred to me that the yams and turnip would be perfect roasted with the pork, and the kale would make a hearty salad alongside.

A little over an hour or so later we were sitting down to what I have to say was a winner of a dinner on the cheap, one that I'd be proud to serve next time guests come over. Just promise that you won't tell anyone how cheap and easy it is, OK? It can be our little secret…

Pork Leg Roast with Lemon and Prosciutto Stuffing and Roasted Vegetables

For the pork leg:
1 4-lb. pork leg roast
4 slices prosciutto
1-2 lemons, sliced crosswise as thinly as possible
4 cloves garlic, thinly sliced lengthwise
1/2 c. bread crumbs
1 tsp. salt and a few grindings of pepper, plus more for roasting
1 tsp. Spanish smoked pimenton (optional)

For the vegetables:
2 yams
1 large turnip
1/2 tsp. dried thyme
Olive oil
Salt and pepper

Preheat oven to 400°.

Remove any twine or wrapping from the leg roast. Unroll on a cutting board with the fattier exterior on the bottom and the inside (where the bone used to be) facing up. If it's not quite flat, slice into the thicker parts so they open up like a book. (It's not important for it to be perfectly even or totally flat.) Lay the slices of prosciutto on top so they cover the surface, then lay the lemon slices in a single layer on top of that. Scatter the garlic slices over the top and sprinkle with salt and pepper.

Starting at one end, roll tightly and tie with kitchen twine to secure (see photo, above). In my case, this usually requires Dave's help, since holding the roast and tying tend to be more than I can do without ending up with stuffing flying all over the kitchen. Your experience may vary. Sprinkle the roast with the pimenton, rubbing it into the outside and salt and pepper generously.

Peel yams and turnip and cut into 1/2" or so dice. Place in mixing bowl, add thyme, salt and pepper and drizzle with olive oil. Stir to coat thoroughly.

Place tied roast in a large roasting pan and surround it with the roasted vegetables. Place roasting pan in center of oven and roast until the internal temperature reaches 125-130° (approx. 45 min.-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.)

Look for other recipes in the Budget Cuts series: Stuffed Pork Leg Roast with Kale and Pine Nuts;  Chile-Marinated Pork Shoulder; Grilled London Broil; Pork Tagine with Pistachios, Almonds, Pine Nuts and Golden Raisins.

Feed a Craving, Help a Family

Pie is one of my very favorite things, and few people make them better than Julie Richardson (below left) of Portland's Baker & Spice. And this weekend that center of sweetness in Hillsdale is not only celebrating its sixth birthday, but it's throwing a bash for National Pie Day (Jan. 23) by hosting a benefit for Neighborhood House with two days of pie-related fun.

With 25% of all pie sales going to the Emergency Food Box program at Neighborhood House, which feeds up to 700 Portland families a month, look for an apple pie contest at their retail store SweetWares, drawings for prizes that include a pie-a-month for a year or a seat in one of Julie’s pie classes.

And there's the unique opportunity to purchase pie by the slice from an array of their scrumptious pies. Get this list of delights: "Featured pies for the event include Lemon Meringue, Boston Cream, Banana Cream, Butterscotch Cream, Double Crusted Apple, Double Crusted Pear Raspberry, Chocolate Cream and Coconut Cream." So whatever your mouth is craving, they'll have a pie to fill it!

Details: National Pie Day and Sixth Birthday Benefit for the Emergency Food Box program at Neighborhood House. Sat.-Sun., Jan. 22-23, 7 am-3 pm. Baker & Spice, 6330 SW Capitol Hwy. 503-244-7573.

Photos by John Valls.

Kitten Update: Otter-rific

Just because she's so freakin' cute and I know you secretly love cute kitty photos, right? Right?

Otter at 10 months.

Crustacean Celebration: Let Them Eat Cakes

Yet another benefit of writing this blog, as if I didn't already have loads of reasons to keep spouting off, is that it gives me an excuse to ask my friends for their favorite recipes. Then, instead of writing it down on a piece of paper that's going to get tucked into (and lost under) one of the dozens of piles of papers, magazines and books that are scattered all over the house, I get to write it up (with accompanying photos) in this handy searchable database.

That was exactly the case when I was talking about crab with my friend Michel, a wicked cook and the creator of my favorite braised lamb dish ever. I knew she also had a mouth-wateringly delicious-sounding recipe for crab cakes, but we hadn't had a chance to get together to make them. So the blog became the perfect excuse to gather ingredients and have a crustacean celebration of our own.

Michel's Thai-ish Crab Cakes with Apple Cabbage Slaw

Yield: 15-18 small crab cakes

Combine:
Meat of two Dungeness crabs
1/2 red bell pepper, minced
1/4 c. minced red or green onion
1 serrano pepper, finely minced
2-4 Tbsp. cilantro, minced
1/4 c. bread crumbs
1/4 c. grated parmesan
Zest of 1 lime
(Adding some grated coconut and fresh mint or basil is also yummy.)

Whisk together and add:
Juice of 1 lime
1 egg

Stir crab mixture thoroughly.

Crumb coating:
1 c. bread crumbs, preferably Panko style
1/4 c. grated parmesan

Combine crumbs and parmesan and spread out on a plate.

Assembly:
Line a baking sheet with parchment or waxed paper.
Scoop up about 1/4 cup of crab mixture and form into a plump cake about 2-inches in diameter (approx. 1” high). Compress so cake holds together.
Gently sit cake in crumb mixture to coat bottom and sprinkle crumbs over top to coat (don’t flip the cake or it will fall apart).
Gently compress cake between your hands to meld crumbs to the crab cake. (Keep cake plump; don’t flatten.)
Set each formed cake on lined baking sheet.
When all cakes are formed, place sheet in the refrigerator for at least 15 minutes.
Heat large sauté pan or griddle to medium-high heat and add olive oil, butter or mixture of both to generously coat pan.
Gently place cakes in pan or on griddle, leaving plenty of room to turn them.
Cook until golden brown and turn gently to brown other side, adding more oil or butter if needed.
If cooking cakes in stages, keep cakes warm in oven until ready to serve.

I like to serve these with lime slices atop a delicate slaw made of Savoy cabbage, tart green apple tossed with lime (julienned, not grated), thinly sliced red onion, grated carrot and cilantro, dressed with a simple mixture of lime juice, Thai fish sauce and sugar…add a bit of olive oil if you wish. Make slaw about 15 minutes before serving.

Check out this season's Crustacean Celebration series: Pasta with Crab and Radicchio, Deadly? I Think Not, and The Big Boys Weigh In. See also: last season's series starting with Hot Artichoke and Crab Dip (and links to other posts in the series).

Top photo by Jon Roberts.