Farm Bulletin: Inner Workings, Part Two: Horseradish

Contributor Anthony Boutard once expressed a desire to open a restaurant where the waiters would carry, not baseball bat-sized pepper grinders, but small microplane graters and a stalk of horseradish to shave judiciously over diners' plates. Here he shares his secrets for serving the root, as well as his planting method at Ayers Creek Farm. Please note that the farm will be open this weekend, December 1st and 2nd, from 1 to 4 pm, with horseradish as well as their other products (see Anthony's note below for details).

During the warm months, horseradish roots have an unpleasant earthy funk. With the return of frosty and wet weather, the horseradish roots develop their flavor. Over the last two weeks, staff harvested about 120 pounds of horseradish. We pulled out the largest roots for our restaurant customers. We are mindful that prep labor is expensive and the larger roots are more efficient to peel and grate. As a result we have a lot of excellent medium-sized roots. Following the lead of Filene’s Basement and Nordstrom Rack, we will have a crate of medium sized horseradish roots available at $1 each. There will be a mixture of roots at a great price. We encourage you to poke through the selection with a discerning eye and grab a handful of the best for the holiday season and beyond. The quality of these smaller roots is as good or better than the biggest. Wrap them up in a damp dish towel and store in a cool place such as the garage or under the eaves of the north side. They will store for weeks or even months. Pull a root out, peel and grate what you need.

Untrimmed horseradish.

One of the soups we prepared for staff at Sweet Creek [on processing day for Ayers Creek Farm preserves] was a simple potato and onion soup using grain brine as the base. We grated a big container of horseradish to stir into the soup. There wasn’t a drop left. At Thanksgiving, grated horseradish was available to stir into the mashed potatoes. A bit of horseradish is welcome in salads or over a plate of oysters on the shell. We recommend trying it fresh rather than putting it in vinegar or cream. Freshly grated horseradish is a very different and more agreeable ingredient than the sour preserved stuff in a jar. Read the label and you will notice that virtually all brands are fortified with mustard oil, an indignity that also afflicts cheap brands of wasabi.

Grated horseradish.

The smallest roots are put aside and used for replanting the patch. For some reason, people often assume the leafy crowns are best for planting, but this is not the case. The best crops are propagated using short root cuttings, about five to six inches long. The bottom is cut at an angle to orient it, as shown below. The cutting is poked into the ground at a 35° to 45° angle. That’s it. If you want to buy some roots for establishing your own patch, ask us and will happily sell you some cutting grade roots.

Bear in mind, once established, horseradish is notoriously tenacious and will hang around for a century or more. Not for the ambivalent. To maintain its quality, we add generous amounts of sea salt, gypsum and sulphate of potash.

Read Part One about producing Ayers Creek Farms justly-renowned preserves.

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From Anthony: We are planning open days for the coming weekend, the 1st and 2nd of December. Our hours will be from 1 pm to 4 pm. As a reminder, we are strictly cash or check; we do not have the ability to process electronic payments. For those who find the journey out to the farm difficult or prefer the ease of electronic payments, World Foods' Barbur location and Rubinette Produce carry robust selections of our beans and grains. Pastaworks, which has carried our preserves since our first run in 2005, has a complete selection of our preserves at its City Market and Providore locations.

We will have a full selection of preserves, beans, and grains, as well as chickpeas, mustard and other odds and ends. We will have family-sized beets, horseradish, melons, tomatillos, spuds, big white onions and other stuff. Our selection now includes: Loganberry, Boysenberry, raspberry, golden gage, green gage, Italian prune, Veepie grape, blackcap, red currant, black currant, jostaberry, damson, tart cherry, quince jelly, crabapple jelly (available only at the farm).

Ayers Creek Farm can be found at 15219 SW Spring Hill Rd., Gaston, Oregon, 97119.

Farm Bulletin: Colwell's Marriott Krensuppe

Contributor Anthony Boutard of Ayers Creek Farm doesn't just love horseradish, he adores it in the same way other people get weak in the knees over chocolate or spontaneously drool at the mere mention of foie gras. Proof is provided when he talks about his idea of the perfect restaurant, where instead of over-large pepper mills, servers carry horseradish root and graters for sprinkling on salads.

There is not much of a horseradish lobby, so its wonderful health benefits are barely explored and publicized. For example, digging it offers wonderful cardiovascular stimulation. In addition, it is clearly an aphrodisiac as we love putting it on all manner of foods. Linda Colwell, who shares our affection for this mulish root and helps us dig it for the farmers’ market, recreated two krensuppe recipes from lasting memories of a soup we enjoyed years ago.

A strike at Charles DeGaulle Airport had thrown the European airline schedules out the window, necessitating a layover in Frankfurt, Germany. We were given a room in a Marriott Hotel miles from anywhere and quite late in the evening. The dining room did not look promising at first, but reading the menu we relaxed. The fare was simple German cooking using local ingredients. Among the soups offered was krensuppe. It was actually two soups: a red and a white soup served in the same bowl.

Although they can be served on their own, the red and the white versions together in a soup bowl make a striking visual display and, with the shared horseradish, harmonize wonderfully on the palate. The colors, by coincidence, are those of the Austrian flag, and horseradish soups are part of Austrian cuisine. Served hot or cold, they provide good vegetarian fare. The third version is from an old Romanian cookbook of Linda's. It uses beef stock, roux and a very generous quantity of horseradish. The grated root is cooked with the flour, softening its flavor in the soup; the flavor is peppery and mellow.

Red and White Horseradish Soup

For the horseradish and potato (white) soup:
2 Tbsp. butter
1/2 medium onion, diced
2 1/2 c. potatoes, peeled and cubed
6 c. water
1 tsp. salt
4 Tbsp., more or less, freshly grated horseradish

In a large enameled pot, melt the butter and cook the onion in it over medium-low heat for about 15 minutes, until the onion is translucent and soft but not brown. Add the potatoes, water and salt. Simmer over low heat until the potatoes fall apart, then cool them to room temperature.

Purée the ingredients through the medium plate of a food mill (or immersion blender or in batches in a blender). Bring the soup to a simmer, taste, season accordingly. Add freshly grated horseradish to taste.

For the horseradish and beet (red) soup:
2 lbs. beets
3 c. water
2 tsp. red wine vinegar
1 tsp. salt
4 Tbsp., more or less, freshly grated horseradish

Cook the whole beets in their skins in heavily salted water until tender. When cool enough to handle, peel and cube them. Pass them through the medium plate of a food mill (or mash well with a potato masher) into a large enameled pot. Add the water, vinegar, and salt. Bring to a simmer, taste, and season accordingly. Add freshly grated horseradish to taste.

To serve the soups, ladle the beet soup into one side of a shallow soup bowl and the potato soup into the other side, so the soups meet in a line down the middle. Serves 6.

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Horseradish Broth Soup

2 Tbsp. butter
2 c. grated horseradish
2 Tbsp. flour
1 tsp. salt
6 c. beef broth, heated to a simmer
1/2 c. heavy cream
Bread and butter for croûtons

In an enameled cast-iron pot, melt the butter over medium-low heat. Add the horseradish, and cook until wilted and soft, about 4 minutes. Add the flour and salt and cook thoroughly without browning. Add the hot broth slowly, whisking to prevent lumps. Simmer 10 minutes. Add the heavy cream, taste, and season accordingly. Serve hot with croûtons—cubes or slices of bread fried in butter or fat until they are golden brown and crisp—prepared at the last minute so they sizzle as they are scattered on the soup. Serves 4.

Scourge of the Garden But Tasty on the Plate

Speaking of gardening, there are some lessons that I've had to learn the hard way. My recent Waterloo came in the form of a friend offering to share a cutting from her horseradish plant.

Fresh horseradish? Sure! I love its dry, peppery bite, which is so much milder than the white, biting stuff in jars that can take your head off if you're not careful. (Due not as much to the horseradish it contains as to the mustard oil that's sometimes added to it.)

My big mistake was in not checking into its growth habits before planting it in my raised bed. The first year was fine…it stayed contained in the corner of the box where I'd planted it and yielded a few long roots that spiced up grilled meats and stews when grated over the top.

The second year was the wake-up call. That's when I realized I had a monster on my hands. Almost half the bed was taken over by the large waving leaves, and it was threatening to strangle the rhubarb next to it. Which meant digging out the rhubarb plant and disentangling its roots from the death grip of the horseradish, as well as digging out as many of the horseradish roots as I could find.

I know I'm going to be digging them out for years to come, trying to prevent a second War of the Raised Bed. Though, as strange as it may sound, I'm committed to planting it again. The difference being that this time it'll be growing within the confines of a pot.

Budget Cuts: The Long and the Short

I have lots of pet theories (no pun intended). One is that my cat can read my mind, because whenever it's time to go to the vet she makes herself scarce. Even before I get out the carrier, she wriggles her little self into a crack or crevice, remaining completely undetectable until it's well past our appointment time.

Another theory has to do with cheap cuts of meat. Usually they're the most flavorful, but sometimes not the most attractive. Think chuck roast or shanks versus steaks or loin roasts. Flank steaks and hanger steaks used to fit in that category, but then they got "discovered" as new items for the home grill and prices haven't come down since.

The cuts that require hours of braising to achieve fall-apart tenderness, as opposed to those that can be quickly grilled and served, seem to be the ones that stay in the budget category. Again, chuck roast, shoulder roast and shanks come to mind. As do beef short ribs, those squarish chunks of layered fat and meat, which are at their best when cooked low and slow. So when I saw them on sale recently in the meat case at my local market, I had to grab a few pounds.

The recipe below would be terrific simmered all day in a slow cooker, but works perfectly well started early in the evening and braised for a couple of hours. Even better, buying, as I did, a little more than you need makes a fabulous fit-for-company dinner with enough left over to shred and mix with pasta later in the week.

I love these served alongside polenta, and the gremolata is definitely optional. A shower of fresh horseradish grated over the top just before serving is really all you need.

Brasato Al Barolo (Braised Short Ribs)
Adapted from Mario Batali's The Babbo Cookbook

For the brasato:
1/4 c. extra virgin olive oil
4 lbs. beef short ribs (or 6 medium-sized bone-in ribs)
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 carrots, peeled and roughly chopped
1 onion, roughly chopped
2 celery stalks, roughly chopped
5 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
2 c. full-bodied red wine
1 16-oz. can of peeled tomatoes, crushed by hand with their juices (2 c.)
1 c. beef stock (or chicken stock)
1 1/2 Tbsp. fresh thyme leaves or 2 tsp. dried
1 1/2 Tbsp. fresh rosemary leaves, chopped fine, or 2 tsp. dried
2 Tbsp. fresh oregano leaves, chopped, or 2 tsp. dried

For the gremolata:
Leaves from 1 bunch of flat leaf parsley
Zest of two lemons, cut into julienne strip
1/4 lb. fresh horseradish, grated

Preheat oven to 375°.

In a large, heavy-bottomed skillet or Dutch oven, heat the olive oil over high heat until smoking. Season the ribs with salt and pepper and cook them over high heat until deep brown all on sides, about 15 minutes total.
 Remove the short ribs to a plate and set aside. Add the carrots, onion, celery and garlic to the pan and cook over high heat until browned and softened, about 4 minutes. Season with salt and pepper and stir in the red wine, tomatoes and juices, stock and herbs, scraping the bottom of the pan with a wooden spoon to dislodge the brown bits. Bring the mixture to a boil and return the short ribs to the pan. Cover and place in the oven. Cook for 2 hours, or until the meat is very tender and literally falling off the bones.

To make the gremolata: 
In a small bowl, combine the parsley, lemon zest and horseradish and toss loosely by hand. Place one short rib in each bowl, top with a little of the pan juices and a handful of the gremolata and serve immediately.

Farm Bulletin: "A Wolfish, Cussed Root"

This week, contributor Anthony Boutard of Ayers Creek Farm gives us an essay that turns on a historic canal, a chance meeting and an ugly root, Armoracia rusticana, or, as it is more commonly known, horseradish. One note: If you've never had freshly grated horseradish root, it has a much milder, earthy bite than the stuff you'll find on your grocer's shelf.

I've got a mule and her name is Sal,
Fifteen miles on the Erie Canal,
She's a good ol' worker and a good ol' pal.
Fifteen miles on the Erie Canal,
We've hauled some barges in our day,
Filled with lumber, coal and hay,
And we know ev'ry inch of the way,
From Albany to Buffalo.

In 1825, the Erie Canal opened, allowing the shipment of agricultural goods from Buffalo to Albany, and then down the Hudson to markets and ports of New York City. It was a stunning and audacious achievement for a young nation. This 363-mile self-contained and mostly artificial body of water had 36 locks that accommodated the 550-foot elevation difference between the two cities. Elegant aqueducts carried the canal, about 40 feet wide and a scant four feet deep, over rivers and ravines. Moving produce and freight by canal barge is slow but highly efficient, roughly twice as efficient as rail. Stretches of the original canal are still used to move freight.

The horseradish plant.

The opening of the canal had a huge impact on the hill towns of New England. Marginal farms were abandoned, their soils having been depleted after a century of use, and the farmers moved to the fertile soils of Western New York and Ohio. There was a shortage of timber in southern New England, so the houses and barns were disassembled and the wood used elsewhere. The first house the two of us owned was in New Haven, Connecticut. Built around 1830, most of the framing and planks were recycled from abandoned barns. Anomalous paint, dimensions, nail holes and notches betrayed their earlier use in a barn.

One of these abandoned farms was located on a hilltop in West Stockbridge, Massachusetts. All that remained of the homestead was a brick chimney and a caved-in stone foundation. The big locust trees still shaded these remnants. Unlike many of the abandoned farms, the meadow was used as summer pasture by a nearby farm, so the old fields remained open. Underneath the locusts, a horseradish patch still flourished about 150 years after its cultivators moved westward. Every autumn, after the tops died off, we dug a dozen or so roots. Gardening and cooking authors reflexively describe horseradish as an "invasive plant." Robust, expansive and persistent, certainly, but it it is not invasive. The horseradish roots we gathered in the autumn were from a root planted two centuries earlier, a life longer than Ghengis Khan or Alexander, and they yet remained just a small patch.

Grated horseradish.

A bit south of the horseradish plant, Ambrose Hunt was born in Hillsdale, New York, in 1803. He moved westward shortly after the canal was finished, settling in the Finger Lakes region. Old habits die hard, so he found another farm on a hill. Our daughter farms that land on Italy Hill in Branchport, New York with her husband, Jonathan Hunt. After an unsuccessful inquiry, the Hunts assumed the house in Hillsdale fell to the same fate as other abandoned homesteads. One day, Anthony's brother, a landscaper, brought a bottle of the Hunt's wine to a client of his in Hillsdale. Seeing the label, she exclaimed, "that's interesting, my house was once owned by a family called Hunt." In vino verum.

Horseradish is a wolfish, cussed root and as unyielding at harvest as the most stubborn canal mule. Few farms bother with it, especially in the heavy soils of the Willamette Valley. It grows on our farm because it reminds us of the beautiful pasture on Maple Hill, the Erie Canal and winter meals livened up with its evanescent bite. Horseradish is the Bohemian parmesan. Grated or shaved into soups or salads, on meat or fish, or on top of mashed potatoes, it brightens the winter table. One of the great wonders to us is why restaurants don't have a horseradish steward on the staff. "Would you like a bit of freshly grated horseradish on your vichyssoise?" A lot more stylish than the affected fetish with an oversized pepper grinder.

Don't let your opinion of horseradish be shaped by the prepared root in a jar. The vinegar and mustard oil in the processed condiment linger on the palate. The mustard oil is used the boost the heat of the horseradish, but the oil destroys that fleeting and refined pungency you find in the freshly grated version.