The Farm in Winter, Warmth for the Soul

Year-round farming in the Willamette Valley is not for the faint of heart. But let's face it, there's not much chance of getting frostbite—most likely the worst that could happen is getting soaked and cold if you haven't got your Helly overalls, a waterproof jacket and a good pair of boots.

Anthony on the gator: do not get in this man's way.

More and more valley farmers are discovering the benefits of year-round farming with the concomitant benefit of year-round income. Many use row covers and hoop houses to extend their growing seasons, evidenced by the abundance—well, seven and counting—of winter farmers' markets in the metro area. National interest in all-season farming is growing, as well, with even the august pages of the New York Times trumpeting accomplishments like those of Eliot Coleman and Barbara Damrosch of Four Seasons Farm in southern Maine (on roughly the same latitude as Oregon).

Beef tongue with hominy ready to warm up some cold bellies.

Of course there are sturdier sorts, and here I'm thinking of the likes of Anthony and Carol Boutard of Ayers Creek Farm, who prefer to grow crops that thrive without cover in the field in our soggy winters. They look for seeds from varieties that are already acclimated to NW winters, and have adapted others through careful seed selection.

Linda munching on some arugula fresh from the field. Yum!

I've had the privilege of spending some time on their farm on an occasional Friday before market, bagging beans and polenta inside and harvesting cabbage and chicory outside. While my version of "helping" tends to be more in the vein of "willing," Anthony and Carol are kind to let me stumble through some minor chores.

One of the best parts, though, is when we break for lunch, often supplied by the far more skilled farmhand and cook, Linda Colwell, who has been helping out at Ayers Creek for several years. Her recipe below for a superb beef tongue with hominy (top photo, with early broccoli) was a dish she shared recently.

Chile and Tomato Braised Tongue with Hominy

From Linda Colwell

Hearty laughter, a recording of Ruth Draper and a soul warming, rib-sticking lunch at Ayers Creek Farm was a well-rounded recovery from a morning of harvesting chicory.

For the curing:
1 beef tongue
4 qts. water
3 c. kosher salt
2 c. brown sugar
2 bay leaves
10 crushed juniper berries
10 crushed peppercorns
1 cinnamon stick
1 Tbsp. mustard seeds

For the sauce:
1 qt. tomato sauce
4 ancho chiles
4 pasilla chiles
4 guajillo chiles
3 c. boiling water
Cilantro, finely chopped, for garnish
1 lb. corn kernels, such as Roy’s Calais Flint corn from Ayers Creek Farm
2 Tbsp. pickling lime

To brine and cook the tongue: Bring the water, salt, sugar, and spices to a boil and allow to cool overnight in the refrigerator. Thoroughly rinse tongue and place it and the brine in glass or plastic container large enough for the tongue to fit completely submerged. Refrigerate for 5 days.

Remove the tongue from the brine, rinse under cold water and place it in a pot. Cover the tongue with fresh water and simmer until it is tender, about 2 hours. Remove the tongue from the poaching liquid and, when cool, peel the rough skin off the tongue. Place the tongue in a cast iron enameled covered pot, add the chile and tomato sauce, and braise in a low, 250° oven for 2 hours.

To prepare the chile and tomato sauce: Cut open the chile peppers with a pair of scissors, remove the seeds and stems and break the chiles into smaller pieces. Next, lightly toast the chile peppers in an iron skillet,  then transfer to a bowl, cover with boiling water and soak for 20 minutes. When the peppers are soft, puree them into a smooth paste and thoroughly mix with the tomato sauce.

To make the hominy: Place 1 pound of corn kernels, such as Roy’s Calais Flint from Ayers Creek Farm, in a large enamel pot with two tablespoons of pickling lime. Cover with water an inch above the corn. Bring the pot to a simmer for one hour, then turn the pan off and let sit at room temperature overnight. The next day, drain the corn and refresh under cold water, rubbing vigorously until fresh water is clear again. Cover with new water and simmer for one to two hours until the kernels are tender. Set aside.

Assembly: Mix a third of the chile and tomato sauce into the hominy and warm through. Slice the tongue and add it to the pot of hominy, napping the meat and corn with the remaining sauce. Serve with a garnish of chopped cilantro.

The Tests of Winter

No, this isn't what you're thinking…there are no not grand musings about man v. the elements or figuring out how to crawl out of a crevasse or even how to dry flannel sheets so they don't turn into a wadded, crinkled mess (anyone else have this problem?). It's about what farmers do in winter, when the farmers' markets are few and far between, the crop selection trims to cold-tolerant species and the mud on their boots adds 10 pounds to each leg.

I was out at Ayers Creek Farm in Gaston on a recent Friday and Anthony and Carol were experimenting with a few new value-added products to add to their lineup of preserves, popcorn, polenta, frikeh and the like. This time it was hominy using their heirloom Roy's Calais Flint Corn and Amish Butter Corn varieties and a new preserve using jostaberries, a cross between a blackcurrant and a gooseberry that has an intense, tart flavor combined with a deep purple, almost black color.

First up was the hominy, which was first cooked in a mix of water and slaked lime—calcium hydroxide, also called cal in Mexico—then allowed to sit overnight where it would "bloom" in a process called nixtamalization (say that six times fast). After rinsing (right), some of each type of corn was put straight into canning jars, while another batch was cooked an extra hour before going into the jars to see which would have a better texture after pressure canning. As an added variation, half of each type had lemon juice added to the water to see how it might affect the color and flavor.

In a nod to caution, not to mention to avoid having the kitchen look like a battlefield with blood and glass and hominy littering the floor, the jars were only filled about three-quarters full (top photo), since no one was sure how much the hominy might expand in the pressure cooker. This turned out to be a wise move, since the corn ended up almost filling the jars.

Anthony decided to wait a week before opening them to test for flavor and texture, then refine the final product from there. Actual processing, should the venture turn out, will take place under the watchful (and certified) eyes of Paul and Judy Fuller at Sweet Creek Foods.

The jostaberry preserves were a much simpler operation, taking berries that had been macerating overnight in sugar and essentially cooking them down to concentrate their flavor and boil off any water. Anthony insisted on using a copper pot for the process, in this case a gorgeous hand-hammered beauty with a curved iron handle that they had picked up on a trip through Spain (left).

Before cooking the berries were run through a grinder attached to Anthony's trusty KitchenAid mixer to remove the bulk of the seeds and pulpy parts, leaving juice and some fleshy bits for the jam. The Boutards never use pectin or solidifying agents in their preserves, preferring to let the fruit speak for itself, so the jam was very loose as it was poured into the jars. But after sitting overnight in our refrigerator the natural pectin in the berries firmed up nicely and it was the perfect texture for spreading on Dave's toasted sourdough (right).

The flavor was a bowl-you-over rich, slightly tart mouthful of deliciousness, and I can't wait for it to start appearing (right, you guys?) at their stand at the Hillsdale market. It might just give their blackcap jam a run for the money as my favorite preserve ever. Though sadly, as I prepared to leave the science-lab-cum-farm-kitchen, I found that hammered copper bowl was a tad too large to sneak under my coat and home. Dang.

Farm Bulletin: Perfect Hominy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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