Farm Bulletin: Field Peas on the 45th Parallel

For well over a decade, we were stymied by the genus Vigna, our efforts figuring as one of the farm's major nonprofit endeavors. The best we could achieve was parity, a ratio of one pound sown to one pound harvested, and we were almost celebratory about that pathetic achievement, seeing it as a hopeful sign. Most efforts failed even this slight measure of hope.

The adzuki in the field.

Indigenous to tropical Africa and Asia, this genus of legumes has a complex of vernacular names, including field peas, cow peas, chickpeas, southern peas, mung, dal, gram and adzuki. They have a distinct gamy flavor relative to the garden beans. They were also one of the original "beans," along with the fava, of southern Europe—a character in Annibale Carracci's classic 'Mangiafagioli' (~1585) was tucking into a bowl of black-eyed peas, not the American garden beans we associate with Italians today.

Fresh adzuki.

Many plants have highly sensitive biochemical chronometers which trigger various functions such as growth, dormancy and flowering according to the dark period of the day. Plants with this requirement are called photoperiodic, and field peas possess that characteristic. In some crops agricultural cultivars have been selected for a very tight photoperiod. For example, onions and cabbage are not useful if they go to flower, or bolt, willy nilly. In Oregon, crops adapted to southern latitudes do not set flower until the nights lengthen in August or September, and there is not enough time to set and ripen their fruits. This is why okra, limas and field peas are not successful at this latitude, and as yet have no commercial cultivars suitable for Oregon. We have wasted a great deal of time and treasure on all three; hope springs eternal.

Experimenting with other crops gave us an appreciation of the challenges farming at the 45th parallel. One of the fascinating entries in the Tokyo Foundation is about Longfellow flint corn originating in New England that is grown on the island of Hokkaido. The northern part of the island lies on the 45th, which is why that variety grew well. We realized we needed to understand the crops of the island better, and that led to our Hokkaido Project. Both soy and adzukis are grown on Hokkaido, so we started trying varieties from the prefecture. Adzukis are the one Vigna, or field pea, that has commercial potential here in Oregon. We are also working on two traditional soy varieties, more on that later.

Fresh adzuki ready for market.

Initially, adzukis didn't sell well. We had licked the biology only to confront a marketing challenge. Despite the hesitant reaction, four customers gave us the spine to plant more. Mio Asaka (Mio's Delectables) and Naoko Tamura (Chef Naoko) used them in a traditional Japanese way as red bean paste. Last winter, David Sapp of Park Kitchen asked us if we could suggest one of our beans as a substitute for black-eyed peas in Hoppin' John. A light bulb lit up and we suggested using the adzukis. We warned him they are different, but of a kind, whereas the other beans we grow are definitely not of that kind. He was happy with the result, and encouraged us to plant more. Sarah Minnick was the other person who brought them into her kitchen with a variation on their traditional use in sweets; at Lovely's 50/50 they ended up ice cream.

A couple of weeks ago we got the idea that perhaps adzukis would be tasty as fresh shelled beans. We asked people who might know and poked about a bit online, but no one seems to share our idea. Then again, no one had ever suggested grinding popcorn and cooking it for polenta, or steeping it in slack lime for hominy, so there is no harm in trying an unshared notion. Bear in mind there are a host of ideas that have been discretely buried and forgotten in the Ayers Creek compost pile as well. As it turns out, fresh shelled adzukis make a tasty dish, just like one of the southern peas. Not quite the perfection of a Lady pea, but up there with next tier field peas. We will have some at market this week, a one-time event, and then you all will have to wait for the dried adzukis.

A Walk in the Park (Kitchen)

I am so glad I chose to write about farms, farmers' markets, gardening, seasonal eating, Northwest travel and (thanks for your patience on this) my dogs. I can't imagine having one of those restaurant blogs where there's constant pressure to keep up on the latest who's-smashing-dishes, what's-the-hottest-table, what's-opening-where-and-when gossip.

Sprout salad, carrots, hazelnuts, quinoa.

So when a friend asked where we should meet for dinner recently, my head started swimming. Should we go check out a new place of the too many I hadn't been to yet? What kind of food? I froze up.

When I hadn't called back for several hours, she wisely took matters into her own hands, suggesting that we meet at Park Kitchen. My brow immediately unfurrowed, my death grip on the phone relaxed. I'd run into PK's owner Scott Dolich at a lunch at Raptor Ridge winery, where he kindly let me watch him make quenelles (cool!). And David Padberg, his Chef de Cuisine, was a pal of Clare and Brian of Big Table Farm, as well as filming a video on cooking with wasabi with my friend Rebecca at Cooking Up a Story. I knew we'd be in good hands.

We arrived to find our table ready, its copper top gleaming in the intimate (but not dim, thank you) lighting that makes the small dining room feel cozy rather than crowded. I had a great view of the unfussy open kitchen where Scott, David and the crew were cooking and plating the orders of the diners already seated, and watching the plates sail by only confirmed the decision to come here.

Flank steak and blue cheese salad.

Nettles, beets, wild mushrooms and spring greens, along with wild salmon and local meats populated the simple menu comprised of small hot and cold plates, large plates and desserts. After ordering a Boulevardier for me and a French 75 for my companion, we opted to share a couple of small plates and an entrée.

The baby octopus arrived topped with crusts of light bread, the better to sop the broth below, and the tiny barely blossoming rapini and small, tart chunks of pickled celery gave this plate a nice balance of tang and texture. The flank steak, blue cheese and sherried onions turned out to be a lovely salad of butter lettuce, with shreds of the medium-rare meat mixed with the other ingredients and tossed in a simple vinaigrette. The kitchen then sent out a complimentary salad of quinoa and carrot purée topped with crunchy housemade crackers.

Our large plate was a hefty slice of salmon on a bed of potato horseradish gratin, topped with watercress and trout roe and with a lightly creamy wine sauce underneath (top). The salmon had a perfect, clean flavor that only the freshest fish carries, and the soft, almost gravlax-like texture practically melted in my mouth. On the recommendation of our server we chose to pair it with a pinot noir from the always-satisfying Athena Pappas and Stewart Boedecker of Boedecker Cellars.

Love the dots!

Normally not a big dessert person, I was glad we'd shared our plates since we weren't too full to order the ricotta fritters with preserved blood oranges and little dots of bay leaf panna cotta. My friend said the fritters reminded her of beignets, those airy Southern specialties, and the bay leaf panna cotta went on the "gotta figure this out at home" list. Stay tuned!

And I have to remark on the service that, even though the restaurant was busy and the kitchen humming, made us feel very well cared for. For its focus on locally sourced, sustainably produced food, perfect execution and the aforementioned attentive service, Park Kitchen should be high on your list of the best restaurants in town.

Details: Park Kitchen, 422 NW 8th Ave. 503-223-7275.