A Trio of Holiday Gift Suggestions

There's nothing better than a self-liquidating gift. One that doesn't hang around or, heaven forfend, need to be dusted. Which explains the popularity of the calendar as the perfect practical gift. It's useful, doesn't take up much space and you can recycle it when the year's up, yet while it lasts you can enjoy a new piece of art on your wall every month. This year's edition of the Artisan Cheese Calendar from our friend Tami Parr at the Pacific Northwest Cheese Project is made to order for the cheese lover on your list, with its new, larger size (13.5" by 9") and great photos of Northwest artisan cheeses for only $28.99. Order it online, and note that 25% of all profits from sales benefit the Oregon Food Bank.

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Though I was never able to convince my mother of the idea, I happen believe that a gift certificate is the ideal gift. These little slips of paper (or plastic as is often the case these days) allow the giftee to choose the object of their desire rather than what the gifter thinks they want. So if you've got a foodie friend who's been pining over classes in making cheese or artisan meats, Chrissie Zaerpoor at Kookoolan Farms in Yamhill has just announced a virtual laundry list of upcoming classes from Basic Soft Cheeses to Blue Cheese to Charcuterie for Beginners. I've attended a class and they're informative, not to mention tasty, even for those of us who are more interested in consumption than production. Check out the list of classes, or call 503-730-7535 for more information.

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And, last but not least, what better way to let someone know how much you care than giving them the gift of health? Kristin Jackson of Take It Outside Fitness is offering gift certificates for group classes, personal training, or lifestyle and weight management either in her studio or outside in the fresh air. I've taken her classes for awhile now and found them not only affordable but downright fun. She's able to gear the workout to your ability level, so if you're fit or not you'll get a good workout and have fun at the same time. To quote The Monkees, "I'm A Believer." Check the website for gift certificate details.

In Season: Souping It Up

First, a confession. I can only handle about half an hour in a mall before my eyes glaze over and I start drooling and babbling incoherently. In fact, it's so bad that my friends are trained to guide me to the exit at the first signs of VOS (visual overstimulation).

So when I went to the farmers' market a couple of weeks ago, as usual, my brain started whirling with possibilities. A chiffonade of lacinato kale salad with salt and lemon. Apple crisp with eau de vie-soaked currants. A medley of roasted root vegetables served alongside roasted chicken.

But it was the stunning color of the Musquée de Provence squash (top photo) that pushed me over the edge and into a full-blown attack. With a burnished copper skin and its flesh a deep orange-red, this squash was going to find its best and highest use as a main course for dinner that night (left), though its fabulous color would also make a gorgeous side dish chunked and drizzled with sage butter.

See what I mean about the VOS? Fortunately, all it took in this case was the application of a fresh berry tart from the stand across the aisle and I was on my merry way.

Roasted Squash Soup with Lime Creme Fraiche
Adapted from From the Earth to the Table: John Ash's Wine Country Cuisine

For the soup:
3 Tbsp. unsalted butter or margarine
3 c. yellow onions, chopped
1 Tbsp. minced ginger
3 c. squash, roasted
6 c. chicken or vegetable stock
1 Tbsp. Madras curry
1 Tbsp. honey
1 c. half-and-half or heavy cream (I substituted 1 c. tofu sour cream)
3 Tbsp. dry sherry
Salt and pepper to taste

For the creme fraiche:
1 c. creme fraiche (or tofu sour cream)
2 tsp. lime zest, finely grated
1 Tbsp. lime juice
Salt and pepper to taste

In a large sauté pan, melt the butter and sauté the onions and ginger until very soft but not brown. If using a food processor, transfer the onion-ginger mixture and the roasted squash to the processor and process till smooth, in batches if necessary, then add remaining soup ingredients. If using an immersion blender, stir together the onions, squash and remaining soup ingredients and blend until smooth. Bring to a simmer and cook for 10-15 minutes, stirring occasionally. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

To make the creme fraiche, in a medium bowl mix the creme fraiche, lime zest and lime juice. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Refrigerate for at least 1 hour for flavors to develop.

Ladle the soup into warm soup bowls. Garnish with a drizzle of the lime creme fraiche.

Photo of Musquee de Provence squash from I Love Farms.

A Man's Gotta Do What a Man's Gotta Do

The ongoing crisis in the Middle East, the struggle between mainland China and Taiwan and now the flare-up between Pakistan and India over the recent terrorist attacks? They've got nothing on the potential fireworks involved in negotiating holiday meals with the family. The delicacy and maneuvering required as must-have side dishes are put forward for consideration, old family recipes are tossed in (and out) and dietary restrictions are figured into the mix would have Hillary grabbing for her migraine pills.

Like when Dave learned we were going to my brother's for Thanksgiving dinner. Normally an invitation to his and Ms. W-'s place isn't even a question due to the depth of his liquor cabinet and the quality of his cooking. But for this occasion Dave's reaction was a look of disbelief and a cry of "But I was planning to smoke the turkey in the smoker!"

After assuring him that he could smoke a turkey the next day, leaving plenty of leftovers for turkey sandwiches and his beloved turkey enchiladas, he immediately switched into research mode, looking up which wood charcoal to use as well as the complex calculations involved in getting the temperature and timing just right.

Suffice it to say that not only did we have a wonderful holiday meal with the family that included incredible cocktails and wines, a whole grilled turkey and some great side dishes, but the next day's smoking produced a bronzed beauty (top photo) and some rocking turkey enchiladas (left).

Another year, another negotiation successfully concluded. Now to start putting out feelers for Christmas.

Dave's Favorite Turkey Enchiladas

For the sauce:
6 dried ancho chiles, seeded and torn into pieces
2 small hot red chiles, seeded and torn into pieces (optional)
3 1/2 c. boiling water
1 Tbsp. cumin seeds
2 Tbsp. (6-8) garlic cloves
4 tsp. oregano
3 Tbsp. paprika (I use 1 Tbsp. smoked Spanish pimenton and 2 Tbsp. regular paprika)
1 Tbsp. sugar
1 Tbsp. salt
2-4 c. roasted tomatoes (optional depending on how strong you like your enchilada sauce)

For the enchiladas:
4-6 c. cooked turkey, chopped
2 c. grated Monterey Jack or sharp cheddar cheese, grated
3 green onions, chopped
1 c. sour cream
1/2 c. sauce (recipe above)
Salt to taste
8 flour tortillas

Place the torn chiles in a heat-proof bowl and pour the boiling water over them. Soak for 30 min. until they are soft and pliable. Drain them, reserving the soaking water, and place them in the bowl of a food processor or blender. Add remaining ingredients and 1/2 c. soaking liquid and process till smooth, gradually adding the rest of the soaking water. Pour into saucepan and heat to simmer, then remove from heat.

Mix turkey, cheese, onions, sour cream and sauce in large mixing bowl. Stir to combine. Pour 1/2 c. of sauce in bottom of 9" by 12" baking dish and spread evenly over bottom of dish. Put 1/8 of enchilada mixture down center of one tortilla and roll, placing it seam-side down in baking dish. Repeat with remaining mixture and tortillas. Pour sauce over top to cover thinly (there should be sauce left over). Bake 40 min. in 350° oven. Serve leftover sauce on side or save for use in huevos rancheros, tacos, etc.

Primitive Cooking? I'd Say Not!

Our neighbor Jim Dixon, writer, olive oil and salt importer and, now, yurt pioneer, just got a great write-up in MIX magazine. Jim sent the following to his customers and gave GSNW permission to reprint it. Happy Thanksgiving!

Turkey Confit

I based this on a recipe from Saveur. It called for using the legs and wings from a whole turkey you’d cut up as an alternative to roasting intact. The breast was boned, pounded thin, stuffed with the same kind of dressing you usually make at Thanksgiving, rolled, tied, and roasted. Sounds okay, but too much work for the most boring part of the bird. I just bought some turkey thighs at New Seasons (one of the best deals in the meat case, but call ahead to make sure they have some). The ones I got were huge, from 25 lb. birds, and weighed about 2 pounds each. I also bought duck fat at New Seasons but, again, call first because they don’t always have it in stock. I’ve also seen recipes that use olive oil, and if you go that route you can save and reuse the oil for cooking.

I gave the thighs a good dusting of sea salt and freshly ground pepper on both sides. The Saveur recipe called for sage, thyme and ground bay leaf, but I wanted a more straightforward flavor. I left them in a baking pan in a single layer in the refrigerator overnight, uncovered.

I melted 3 lbs. of duck fat on the stove (it comes in one pound tubs, which are probably a little less than a quart), then carefully poured it over the thighs. They weren’t totally covered, but nearly. The pan, tightly covered with foil, went into a 300° oven for about 3.5 hours.

I let them cool a bit, then transferred the thighs to Cambros (the plastic containers used in food service...Cambro is the brand name, and that’s what everybody calls them...you can buy smallish versions at restaurant supply stores such as Boxer NW [438 NW Broadway - KAB]). I poured in some of the duck fat, then used another container to save the rest. The fat and juices will separate as it cools, and I’ll save the fat to use again (everything cooked in duck fat is delicious).

We’ll crisp the thighs in the fat in hot skillet up at the yurt on Thanksgiving, but I did sneak a small bite as I was putting them away. Delicious!

Photo from MIX magazine.

You Might Not Be Gimlet-Eyed...

...after one of these, but speaking of a Hendrick's gimlet, here's a recipe that my brother swears he got from the lovely Suzanne herself:

Hendrick's Gimlet

2 oz. Hendrick's Gin
1 oz. fresh squeezed lime juice
3/4 oz. simple syrup

To make simple syrup, in a small pan stir 1 c. sugar into 1 c. water and heat to boiling, stirring occasionally. Cool.

Fill cocktail shaker with ice, add ingredients, shake very well and strain into martini glass. Garnish with lime wedge.

Note: You can use any gin, but Hendrick's just seems to have that perfectly balanced floral-herbal character that works magic here.

Photo from Eat. Drink. Think.

Happy Hour: A Plate of This, A Plate of That...

I have to admit that happy hours do just that. They make me happy. I'm happy when someone suggests meeting for a happy hour drink. I'm happy all that day just thinking about it. That evening I'm happy to be sitting and ordering my happy hour drink and little plates of happy hour food. And I'm happiest of all when I get the happy hour check and it's way less than it would be during regular hours.

So when my cousin Julie called and suggested meeting for happy hour, you can imagine how...well...happy I was to accept. We settled on 50 Plates because of its proximity to her workplace and because I hadn't been back since a media dinner last July.

The bar is a tiny place. Just a couple of small tables and maybe eight stools at the bar, so it's either designed to be crowded or they let folks flow over into the dining room. The ceiling is low and the lighting is intimate. Not that it's dark, but it does have a certain sophisticated sleekness with the low lighting, hard surfaces and black-and-white color scheme.

My favorite bartender, Suzanne, holds down the fort on Monday and Tuesday nights, so I knew we were in for a good time. I hadn't had one of her trademark Monique's Gimlets (made with Hendrick's gin) for ages but, alas, they were out of Hendrick's that night. Then, because resourcefulness is the hallmark of a brilliant bartender and Suzanne blows the lid off the Stanford-Binet of mixology, she subbed in a new local gin I hadn't tried called 12 Bridges.

Its flavor derives from the 12 botanicals used in its recipe and it has a distinctive cucumber character as well, perfect for the gimlet. So with that settled, we ordered some nibbles from their bar menu starting with their signature dirty rice beignets (above, right) and, at Suzanne's suggestion, a wedge of iceberg with warmed cherry tomatoes and pancetta drizzled with invisible vinaigrette (left).

A couple of other plates, including one of their house-made pretzels, bronzed and salty, that Suzanne brought on the house, concluded our very happy evening. What more can you ask of an hour of happiness?

Details: Happy Hour at 50 Plates. Mon.-Fri., 3-6 pm. 333 NW 13th Ave. Phone 503-228-5050.

Cheesy Guy

It's like the old Sesame Street song, "One of These Things Is Not Like the Others":

1. An ex-Marine.
2. Nigerian Dwarf dairy goats.
3. Raw milk cheese.

Can you guess which one doesn't belong? Well, if you guessed #1, thinking it was unlikely that an ex-Marine would be raising Nigerian Dwarf dairy goats with his cheesemaker wife on a farm in Southern Oregon, then you haven't run into Vern Caldwell of Pholia Farm.

He and his wife Gianaclis (pron. jon-uh-clees) built their off-the-grid, solar-powered dairy and home in Rogue River, Oregon, on 23 acres of the 220-acre farm that Gianaclis grew up on. I ran into him the other day when he came up to do a tasting of Pholia's Elk Mountain and Hillis Peak cheeses at Foster & Dobbs, and you couldn't hope to meet a nicer guy. He's so nice, in fact, that his next stop before making the seven-hour drive home was going to be at Quail Run Creamery to help fellow goat-breeder and cheesemaker Scott Catino install some equipment.

And Vern and Gianaclis's cheeses? The word "Yum!" doesn't begin to do them justice.

The Hillis Peak has a distinctive reddish rind from the Spanish paprika and olive oil that is rubbed on the outside of the cheese. The flavor is mild with a silky feel, even though it's been aged for at least six months (putting it high on the Dave-safe list). One taste of the Elk Mountain (right), though, made it my instant favorite. Aged for six months and brined in Wild River ale, this cheese has a firm, dry-ish texture and a robust flavor, perfect for a cheese plate with pears and figs.

The one I can't wait to try, though I'll have to wait until December to get some, is the Wimer Winter. Made only during the fall and winter, it rates three of my favorite cheese descriptors: salty, creamy and, best of all, stinky.

Their cheeses are available at aforementioned Foster & Dobbs Authentic Foods on NE 15th as well as Steve's Cheese in NW Portland. Get some soon!

Farm Bulletin: Chestnuts, Persimmons and Turnips, Oh My!

Pursuant to the notice below about the holiday farmers' markets this weekend, and despite my smarty-pants teasing about the habits of those on the west side of the river, correspondent Anthony Boutard muses on some history and preparations for these winter comestibles.

Chestnuts: Bouche de Betizac

When the chestnut blight struck Europe, the French fought back with several hybrids between the European (Castanea sativa) and Japanese (C. crenata) species of chestnut. These hybrids had good resistance to the strain of blight that attacked the European trees, and the nuts were larger than the pure C. sativa trees. Betizac is one of the earliest of those hybrids, and probably the best, especially in terms of flavor. The original Betizac scionwood, and other varieties of the chestnut, was brought to OSU in the 1980s by Bob Rackham, an OSU extension agent who took an interest in chestnuts. Scionwood is a branch from this year's growth which can be grafted onto suitable rootstock.

With the help of Christopher Foster [of Cascadia Chestnuts], we managed to collect some scionwood from those trees before the planting was pulled out. Although he might demur at the suggestion, Christopher is one the nation's leading authorities on the chestnut, and he has been very generous with his time and ideas.

Chestnuts must be scored before cooking. We have all manner of tools for the job. The cheapest, easiest and safest, in our experience, is a hooked linoleum blade that fits in a box knife. Unless you are predisposed to making crosses for some religious reason, a single slice will do. We recommend roasting the chestnuts in a good size batch, and then freezing them. An open fire confers a nice smokiness to the fruits. Immediately after roasting, wrap the unpeeled nuts in a few dish towels and let the fruits stew a bit. This makes it easier to remove the inner peel. Peel them while they are hot, or the job will be difficult.

We have cured the fruits so they are ready to use this week. They do not store well. Chestnuts are essentially a sweet acorn, and very different from other fruits we call "nuts" in that they are high in carbohydrates and low in fats. Leave them on the counter for a couple of weeks, they will be hard as rocks and about as appealing. Chestnuts are in the oak family, subfamily Diosbalanos, meaning noble acorn. The genus name Castanea is derived from Kastanea, an ancient city in Asia Minor where they were thought to have originated. In Ancient Greece, the response to a beggar was, "Go shake acorns from a tree."

Turnips: Turnip Diary II

Unlike last year, the turnips sold fairly well at the last market. We returned with a mere 10 pounds. This week, we will have mostly Jersey Navet and Early White. We also pulled a few Wilhelmsburger and Gilfeather Rutabagas and some Norfolk Green Turnips.

The simplest way to enjoy fresh turnips is to grate or julienne the root, and dress them as a salad. The skin is tender enough that peeling is unnecessary. Trim the top and bottom, and check for wireworm damage. We try to catch the worst problems, but sometimes the worm moves on, and the root heals over the wound.

Dress the grated root with mirin and sesame oil. A premium Japanese sesame oil has a more delicate flavor than the heavily roasted types used for cooking. Virgin sesame oil has the most delicate flavor. There are many brands of mirin available and some are sweeter than others. The Mitoku brand has both sesame oil and organic mirin which are well suited for salads.

Turnips and rutabagas are also delicious when sautéed gently in a some butter, salt pork or pancetta. For those poorly disposed toward animal fats, olive or coconut oil work fine. We generally dice them into 1/2 inch cubes. The roots are sweet enough that they will caramelize slightly. Great with squash.

Persimmons

These are the small persimmons native to eastern United States, Diospyros virginiana. They are distinctly astringent with a clove-like spiciness. The genus name, Diospyros, means "noble pear." The trees are in the ebony family, and the heartwood wood is very dense and strong. It was most commonly used in golf clubs, shoe lasts, pool cues and loom shuttles.

When Carol's late mother, Carol Black, hosted a party, she would have a local school teacher, Thelma Johnson, assist her in the food preparations. Persimmon pudding is a classic Eastern Shore of Maryland dessert. It works with with Japanese persimmons, though the native persimmons provide more depth.

Thelma Johnson's Persimmon Pudding
2 c. pulp (persimmons must be mushy)
2 c. sugar
1 1/2 c. buttermilk
1 tsp. baking soda
3 eggs, beaten
1/2 c. evaporated milk or half and half cream
1 1/2 c. flour
1 tsp. baking powder
1/8 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1 tsp. vanilla
1/4 lb. butter (1 stick)
Whipped cream for top.

Pre-heat oven to 325 degrees F. Mix pulp and sugar. Add soda to buttermilk till it quits foaming. Add mix to pulp with eggs and cream. Sift flour, baking powder, salt and cinnamon and stir into pulp mix. Add vanilla. Melt butter in 14" by 10" baking dish. Swish around sides and bottom and add excess to batter. Pour into baking dish and bake for 45 minutes. Cool in dish and serve as squares topped with whipped cream. Approx. 12 servings.

Read the other posts in the Turnip Diaries series: Part I: The Wapato Valley, Part II: Chestnuts, Persimmons and Turnips, Part III: Misery Loves Company, Part IV: We're In This Pickle Together, Part V: The Spicy Turnip, Part VI: The Turnip Also Rises, Part VII: WWPD (What Would Pliny Do). 

Livin' in the Blurbs: High Holidays

I know it's a late notice, but if you can you must head to one of the holiday farmers' markets to gather up the freshest, bestest local ingredients for your loved ones.

• The Hollywood Farmers Market is holding a blowout Season Finale tomorrow, Nov. 22, with the pick of the fall harvest, as well as crafts, baked goods, meats and cheeses. 9 am-1 pm. NE Hancock between 44th and 45th Aves.
• The Hillsdale Farmers' Market will be bustling with holiday shoppers who will find turkeys at Kookoolan; preserves, squash and polenta at Ayers Creek; and a rumor of wild huckleberries at Wild Oregon. Get there early! 10 am-2 pm. In the parking lot at SW Sunset Blvd. and SW Capitol Hwy.
• Moreland Farmers' Market is holding a special Tuesday Holiday Market on Nov. 25th with a full complement of their usual fine vendors and will have a food drive for the Oregon Food Bank. 1 pm-5 pm. At the corner of SE Bybee Blvd. & 14th St.

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Budding impresario Bob Smith is hosting a Tabor Neighbor House Concert featuring the always eclectic Caravan Gogh playing tunes ranging from gypsy waltzes to all out acoustic rock, from calypso inspired dance tunes to serene soundscapes. Fri., Dec. 5, 7 pm; $15 at door, e-mail reservations required. 1240 SE 56th. Phone 503-239-4089.

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The new schedule of Sunday Dinners at Kenny & Zuke's has just flown in and they're pushing into new territory as well as featuring some classics in their upcoming menus:

• Okinawan Goat Roast with chef Janis Martin of Tanuki starring the goat in the title as well as side dishes from this island's cuisine that is "heavily influenced by Korean and Chinese cooking." Sun., Jan. 25, 6 pm; $36.50 without alcohol, $46.50 with alcohol.
• A Dungeness Crab Feed takes Ken back to his roots on the shores of New York and Maryland. Think crab heaped on newspaper-covered tables with dipping sauces galore. Guaranteed to be "a big, messy blast!" Sun., Feb. 22, 6 pm; $36.50 without alcohol, $46.50 with alcohol.
• Emilia Romagna with its "uncommonly sophisticated peasant foods" is the focus of this dinner, and it's sure to be a memorable evening. Sun., Mar. 29, 6 pm; $32.50 without alcohol, $42.50 with alcohol.

Details: Advance payment is required with reservation. Kenny & Zukes, 1038 SW Stark St. Phone 503-222-3354.

You Won't Rue This Decision

Tagging along. It's somehow been happening a lot lately. Like my trip to Boise. Or to the spa at Bonneville. And tonight I was invited to accompany a friend to a Slow Food panel on the people who grow, harvest and produce our food. And I love it!

So when my friend, neighbor and author of The Farm to Table Cookbook: The Art of Eating Locally, Ivy Manning, asked if I'd be interested in going to Roux to try out their new lunch menu, it was a no-brainer. A couple of years ago I'd heard about the great lunches they were serving, but by the time I got around to trying it, they'd decided close down their lunch service. Fine.

And how is it now that they've come to their senses and reopened at mid-day? Rest assured, it's all good news. We sampled a fair amount of the menu, considering it was lunch, starting with hushpuppies (crunchy on the outside, creamy in the middle) and the soft shell crab (okay but nothing to write home about). The spinach and fried oyster salad (above left) was terrific with hefty chunks of pork belly, a chopped boiled egg and a creamy remoulade dressing, the oysters briny fresh and crunchy.

Ivy chose the bourbon-glazed meatloaf (right), a big slab of spicy Creole "Chaurice" sausage mixed with ground sirloin sitting on top of spinach whipped potatoes and topped with frizzled onions and an incredible bourbon glaze. I opted for the classic po'boy (top), this one a combination of crisply fried shrimp and oysters with slices of house-made pickles that gave it a nice tang. The bun was a little too white bread-y and light for me and, in my opinion, it would have been better with a ciabatta-style roll, but I'm sure that wouldn't be traditional.

Not cheap but definitely in the moderate range, most lunches and salads are $10 to $12 and the portions are good-sized. And if you can, when you go don't miss the opportunity to ask a friend to tag along.

Details: Roux, 1700 N Killingsworth. Phone 503-285-1200.

Market Watch: People's Farmers' Market

"It ain't over till it's over."

- Yogi Berra

For my last Market Watch column of the season I decided to go to Portland's only year-round weekly farmers' market at People's Co-op. The Hillsdale market does brave the winter months as well, but only twice a month. So whazzup widdat? Are the West-siders too wimpy? Too enamored of sitting and reading the Times with their French press on a Sunday morning?

Come to think of it, I've never seen anyone at a market with a five-pound turnip the likes of which Suleyman Idrisov was displaying at his Hayat Farm booth. But you'll find him and other hardy souls keeping the farmers' market flame burning till spring brings everyone else back onto the scene.

Details: People's Farmers' Market. Wednesdays, 2-7 pm. 3029 SE 21st Ave., between Powell and Division.

Aloha Hula!

What do you do when you've got hula in your soul but your body is stuck in rainy, temperate Portland?

My friend and über-talented food writer, Susan Hauser, discovered her inner wahine when she visited Hawai'i on her honeymoon and became entranced with the culture of the indigenous people of the islands. Her fascination outlasted the marriage, and she eventually found a hula halau, or school, in the appropriately named town of Aloha just outside of Portland.

But, as you might imagine, Susan is a woman who never does things halfway. Now she's also studying the 'ukelele as well as learning the Hawai'ian language, and you can follow her progress at her new blog, Hula in Aloha. But watch out. You might just discover you have an inner Hawaiian, too.

You Take a Stick of Bamboo

You take a stick of bamboo,
You take a stick of bamboo,You take a stick of bamboo,You throw it in the water...

Peter, Paul and Mary may or may not have meant this song as a political statement, but it nicely encapsulates the philosophy behind the opening of Bamboo Sushi on SE 28th. Formerly a sushi restaurant called Masu East, it was the eastside outpost of downtown's Masu owned by partners Jeff Berback and Kris Lofgren.

Lofgren became increasingly concerned about the environmental and sustainable aspects of owning a sushi restaurant, where it's hard to find out how or where the fish is caught, much less the ripples its distribution may have on other species and the environment. He decided to buy out Berback and reopen as the first seafood restaurant in the United States to be certified as sustainable by the Marine Stewardship Council (MSC). Along with MSC, he is also partnering with other blue-chip organizations including the Monterey Bay Aquarium, Blue Ocean Institute and the Green Restaurant Association. Using the guidelines established by Blue Ocean Institute and Monterey Bay Aquarium, Bamboo says it will only serve seafood listed as "best choices" or "good alternatives."

So fine, you say, but how is the food? Well, at an event to showcase the menu for the media, it was both good and a little uneven. Overall, the sushi was excellent with some unusual (and tasty) combinations that you won't find at other sushi spots in town. The usuzukuri, made with thinly sliced whitefish, jalapenos, ponzu, green onions, tobiko and sesame seeds (photo, top), was a fresh take on a traditional dish, with salty and sweet flavors combining with the popping of the flying fish roe for a fun sensory experience. The hoki poke box (above left), sushi rice pressed with red crab salad and layered with tuna, avocado, green onion, togarashi and poke sauce, also had the traditional-with-a-twist thing going on, and the grilled kobe flank with sweet potato, sauteed garlic greens with bacon, pickled mushrooms and momiji sauce was amazing.

The unevenness came when the kitchen strayed from the Japanese theme, throwing in au courant items like panko-crusted goat cheese (above right), smoked cipollini onions and candied walnuts that begged a "Huh?" response.

But the most surprising thing was the desserts, which were actually quite good and worth ordering on their own. The adzuki filo (left, above), basically a red bean paste-filled empanada, was a crunchy, oozing delight and had a sweet potato-lime sorbet with a fence of raspberry poached pears, ideal complements to the empanada's sweetness. The chocolate "egg rolls" were chocolate pudding-filled pastry rolls that had been rolled in ginger sugar and served with candied ginger ice cream and seasonal fruit. Sensational on all counts.

Though Lofgren says they're working hard to keep their prices comparable to other spots in town, it is pricey so choosing wisely (and conservatively) might be the best policy, at least at first.

Details: Bamboo Sushi, 310 SE 28th Ave. Phone 503-232-5255.

An Appreciation: Joel Weinstein, Famous Publisher

A few years ago I realized that friendships, like love, can be mutable things. Some people come into your life and you're as close as bugs for what seems like only a few minutes, then they're gone forever. Others come and stay for years, becoming part of the fabric of your days. Then there are those who pop in and out over decades, appearing, disappearing and then reappearing when you least expect it.

A Mississippi Mud cover titled "Safe in Heaven."

Joel Weinstein was one of the latter, a good friend, a writer, designer and cultural gadfly, a self-described "Famous Publisher" (or, more familiarly, FP) who started the iconic and idiosyncratic Mississippi Mud magazine in the 70s, publishing Oregon originals like Walt Curtis, Katherine Dunn, Tama Janowitz, Stacey Levine and Ursula K. Le Guin. Then, as he and partner Cheryl Hartup moved to follow her career as a curator of Latin American art, first in Miami and then in San Juan, Puerto Rico, he took his second publication, Rotund World, online.

Joel on the prowl in Puerto Rico.

His writing was always an inspiration, the loopy, fantastical, intertwining lines inevitably landing to make a pertinent point, whether it was about other writers, artists or, especially, pomposity and arrogance should they raise their heads in his presence. Of Rotund World, he wrote that it would contain "homenajes, comings and goings, squabbles, promesas, sales to important collectors, drunken brawls, unconcealed flattery, pissy interchanges, lukewarm showers, boring stretches of nothing going on, accidental deaths, hip-joint replacements, studio hijinks, unintended insults, and a bit of fly-specking, sometimes all at once."

He dropped in for dinner when he and Cheryl were in town last Christmas, bringing with him a gift of coffee roasted by friends in PR, regaling us with stories about his new friends there, querying us for tidbits of gossip about old ones here, ears pricked for telltale details that he'd squirrel away for the retelling.

The memorial altar at his home in San Juan (notice the sneakers and the cat under the table).

It was a wonderful, warming evening. We didn't know that two months later he would be diagnosed with terminal lung cancer though he hadn't smoked for nigh on 35 years, the irony of which would not be lost on him, to be sure. He passed away on Halloween, and Cheryl opened their house in San Juan to friends and food, music and laughter the next day, the Day of the Dead in Latin culture and also the 18th anniversary of the day they met.

A detail from the altar, with an effigy of Joel in his signature t-shirt, sneakers and shoulder bag.

Per his wishes, his ashes will be buried in Lone Fir Cemetery, of which he wrote, "Lone Fir is the resting place of an astonishing variety of those who’ve come to be the city’s natives: along with pioneers and their descendants, there are Russians, Cambodians, Japanese, and Chinese whose families immigrated—some of them generations ago—and stayed." And though we're known for our rain, hippies and volcanoes, he said that they are merely "minor annoyances when compared to the city’s surpassing loveliness. Actually, the hippies are part of the charm, like colorful garden dwarves scattered amidst the tall firs."

Goodbye, dearest Joel.

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His friend, Barry Johnson, in a lovely remembrance in the Oregonian, wrote that the Oregon Cultural Heritage Commission, of which he was a founding participant, will celebrate Weinstein with a program called "Discovering Oregon Originals: Joel Weinstein's contributions to Oregon culture," at 7 pm, Wednesday, Jan. 21, First Unitarian Church, SW 12th Ave. and Salmon St.

In Season: Cauliflower and Lobster?

And don't forget the chanterelles. All of these and more are in season and ready for pickin', so grab your basket or, in my case a friend who knows her spots, and head for the hills. You'll often find the chanterelles and lobster mushroooms in the litter under stands of Doug fir, and word is they're easier (not to mention safer) for beginners because no other mushrooms (i.e. the poisonous ones) look like them.

But if the risk isn't worth the reward, I've seen them at local farmers' markets for anywhere from $8 to $10 a pound. Slice them up, sauté them with a bit of butter and minced shallots and you can pop them in a zip-lock bag in the freezer for a midwinter soup, pasta sauce or appetizer on toast. But now's the time to do it before they're gone.

Walking in to Walking Man

"Stevenson (Washington): a quaint riverside drinking town with a windsurfing problem."
Or so says a sign in the "Readers" bathroom (you have a choice between that and "Dreamers") at Walking Man Brewing where we went for lunch after our spa experience.Now, a brewpub might not be the expected choice to follow a poshy few hours, but we were ravenous and our other choices were the rather expensive and uninspiring menu items at the spa's restaurant, driving a little further to Skamania Lodge where the view is awesome but I've yet to have a very good meal, or driving back to the Multnomah Falls Lodge, which I've heard has a surprisingly good café.

So, as I said, we were ravenous and a salad, pizza and a nice microbrew sounded just dandy. We pulled up to the bottom level of the quaint board-and-batten building next to the railroad tracks and within minutes were slurping down a couple of pints and munching on a very tasty Greek salad. Moments later our barbecue chicken pizza arrived, and moments later it was gone as well. I have a vague recollection that it was pretty good, too, but that's how it is sometimes when you're really hungry.

There are also tons of trails in the area, so if you've been hiking or feel like a short field trip, it's a great place to stop in and sit a spell, brew in hand.

Details: Walking Man Brewing, 240 SW 1st St., Stevenson, WA. Phone 509-427-5520.

Spaaaaahhhhhhhh...

I'm not big on pampering. I don't do manicures or pedicures, and "having my hair did" consists of going to the nearest Bishop's and having a heavily pierced and tattooed stylist whack off several inches. So getting a massage isn't a weekly, or even a yearly, event in my life. But when my friend Mary invited me to join her at the Bonneville Hot Springs Spa & Resort for some spa action, I jumped at the chance.

You see, as far as massages go, I'm a moth to a flame. An alkie to his bottle. As Julie says in the musical Showboat (see above), "Fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly." And when I'm offered an afternoon of spa treatments, you gotta know I'll be there.

We started out mid-morning, and even though the weather was semi-crappy, meaning cool and blustery, the incredibly dramatic landscape of the Gorge, with silken ribbons of mist weaving around the hilltops, made for an amazing drive. In 40 minutes we'd crossed over the Bridge of the Gods, driven through the little town of North Bonneville and pulled up to the front door.

Now, from the outside this place has all the appeal of a Soviet-era institution, but once you're inside it just gets better and better. The spa staff whisks you into a (very small) locker room where you change into a plush white cotton robe and rubber slippers. I'd chosen their Ultimate Relaxation bath, wrap and massage, and my attendant Lainie (I had an attendant? Cool!) quietly ushered me into a darkened room with several tubs separated by standing screens.

I was given the choice of a lavender or chamomile-scented bath, and on a nearby table was a pitcher of water straight from the spring and a little cup of grapes (unpeeled, alas!). Lainie advised me that keeping the water at body temperature would allow more minerals to be absorbed into my body, but I ignored that and went for warmer water.

After about a half hour she was back and held up the robe while I disembarked from my porcelain ship (lower the gangplank!) and took me into another darkened room lined with bodies cocooned in sheets, their faces covered with towels. I had the urge to laugh, but stifled it just in time. Deciding on a medium-tight wrap (rather than tight or loose), she put down a eucalyptus-soaked towel and tucked me in for a half hour rest.

Then it was on to the massage with Nick, who escorted me to the men's side of the spa (?) for an 80-minute workout on the table. It went all too quickly, of course, but as we poured ourselves back into the car for the drive home, I was thinking maybe the next pampering event would be coming up sooner than later.

Fishing for a Great Recipe

I love making goals. To get back to exercise class. To take the dogs on at least one long walk a day. To schedule a regular date night with Dave and not let it fall by the wayside. To eat more fish.

In keeping with at least one of those, I was trolling through the recipes on my brother's blog. He's begun incorporating more fish into his rotating repertoire lately, and I thought I'd take advantage of his testing rather than start with an unknown quantity that might or might not work out.

Since I can't ever seem to get enough Asian flavor in my diet, the halibut with nori jam that he found on the New York Times website seemed to fit the bill. And even though the extra step of making the "jam" was outside my usual just-throw-it-together dinner style, it went together quickly and easily and added that extra sparkle that made this recipe a keeper.

Halibut With Nori Jam
Adapted from David Myers

For the nori jam:
2 Tbsp. light soy sauce
2 Tbsp. mirin
2 Tbsp. rice vinegar
1 Tbsp. water
1 1/2 sheets nori (Japanese seaweed sheets), torn into small pieces

For the halibut:
4 6-8 oz. skinless halibut fillets
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 Tbsp. olive oil
4 tsp. nori jam
1 to 2 Tbsp. fresh lemon juice
2 Tbsp. sliced chives.

For nori jam: In small saucepan, combine soy sauce, mirin, vinegar and 1 tablespoon of water. Bring to boil and add nori, stirring until nori is soft, about 30 seconds. Transfer to blender and purée until smooth. Return to pan and cook over medium heat until thickened and jamlike, 2 to 3 minutes.

For halibut: Preheat oven to 350°. Season halibut with salt and pepper to taste. Place large ovenproof skillet over medium-high heat and add oil. When oil is very hot but not smoking, add fillets skinned side down and let them sit until browned on underside, about 3 minutes.

Transfer pan to oven and bake until cooked through, about 3 minutes. Transfer fillets to warm platter and spread each fillet with about 1 teaspoon of nori jam. Sprinkle with lemon juice, and garnish with chives. Serve immediately.

Yield: 4 servings.

Market Watch: Portland Farmers' Market at PSU

With the market season winding down, I decided it was time to check back on the mother of them all, the Saturday Portland Farmers' Market at PSU. So this week in the Market Watch report you can not only find out what's available for your Thanksgiving table (like the patés from Viande, above) but what they'll have to make your holiday gift-giving so much tastier. Check it out!

Turnip Diaries, Pt. I: The Wapato Valley

Not too far from the bustle of urban life but seemingly a world away from our citified concerns lies the little town of Gaston and, near it, Ayers Creek Farm. Anthony Boutard's reports give us a taste of what's happening just over the hill.

The beautiful autumn weather was good for harvesting the beans and corn, but slowed the winter vegetables substantially. Frosty nights stop the foliar growth, and it takes some time for the plants to warm up and growth to resume, especially when the cold morning fog lingers into the noon hour. Far from the moderating effects of the big rivers, tons of heat-retaining concrete and hundred of thousands of engine blocks shedding heat from their daily workout, our temperatures can drop about 10 to 15 degrees colder at night than those in Portland. Clear skies at night hasten radiational cooling. The Wapato Valley is also in a colder micro-climate, so we plant about two weeks later than in the Tualatin Valley north of us or the Willamette Valley to the south, even though we are at the same elevation, about 195 feet above sea level.

The last two weeks, drenched with warm rain, the plants have been growing day and night, and the difference is visible in the field. That said, we don't expect to have the chicories, endives and escaroles until the Christmas market, or early January. Consider it the toll exacted for such a lovely October.

As for turnips, last year, we pulled about 50 pounds of them for the Christmas market. Exquisite as they were, golden, purple topped and white, we only sold 2 pounds. Oddly enough, turnips and the holidays were a bad mix. For the next month we had turnips at virtually every meal. Roasted, mashed, pickled, brined and stewed. And, of course, turnip souffle. Over that month, we developed a deep appreciation for the turnip. They are back, and the earliest are ready.

The "White Milan" turnip is round and similar to the familiar purple top turnip. The "Jersey Navet" is a distinctly pear-shaped turnip. It is a very old type, and it is great to open Vilmorin's "The Vegetable Garden" and see the same root illustrated. Produces a good head of greens, as well. Finally there are the "Early White" (Navet Blanc Plat Hântif). The root is very flat and grows above the ground. Vilmorin describes it as "pretty."

We plant the turnips and rutabagas relatively late so as to avoid the flea beetles that mow down the emerging seedlings. The supply will improve as the season progresses and this warm, wet weather will help move things along a bit faster. Radishes, rutabagas and turnips are well adapted to the Pacific Northwest winter.

Read the other posts in the Turnip Diaries series: Part II: Chestnuts, Persimmons and Turnips, Part III: Misery Loves Company, Part IV: We're In This Pickle Together, Part V: The Spicy Turnip, Part VI: The Turnip Also Rises, Part VII: WWPD (What Would Pliny Do).

Time for Change

For an amazing backstage look at election night with the Obama family, go to this photo set on Flickr.

Photo by David Katz/Obama for America.