You Can Take It With You

Why take that (improved but still) nasty freeze-dried food in your backpack when you can cook up a batch of short rib sugo, put it in a ziplock bag and bring some pasta to cook on your campstove? Contributor Jim Dixon of RealGoodFood shares his recipe for this great dish:

For the past couple of decades I’ve spent the Father’s Day weekend with a group of old friends camping on the beach of Bachelor Island, on the Columbia a few miles downstream of its confluence with the Willamette. We eat, drink, tell the same stories again and play beach bocce.

Cooking for a group usually involves pasta, and I made a fairly simple sauce using beef short ribs.

Short Rib Sugo

In a good-sized pot (I use a cast iron Dutch oven), brown about a pound and half of short ribs in a little olive oil. Add some salt, an onion, some celery, and carrot, all chopped into medium dice, and cook for a few more minutes.

Add about a half bottle of decent red wine, a shot of espresso (or half cup of strong coffee), cover, and stick into a 200° oven for about 3 hours.

Remove the short ribs from the pot, let cool, and pick the meat off the bones. You can reduce the braising liquid if you like, but it’s not absolutely necessary. Chop the meat coarsely and return to the pot, adding a large can of ground or diced tomatoes. Simmer for another 20 minutes or so, adjusting the salt if necessary.

Use 100% semolina pasta and don’t overcook it. We used farfalle, but any extruded shape will work. Stir some of the sugo into the cooked pasta, toss with fresh arugula if you like, and serve with grated Parmigiano.

Not Just Another Meat Market

We could have had the alignment adjusted, the oil changed and our tire pressure checked, since our table was just about where the lift would have been. But it had been removed to make room for tables, chairs and an expansive open kitchen.

Salt cod fritters with aioli.

The bar on one end of the room, where the shop tools, belts and diagnostic machines had sat, still serves a healing purpose, since bartender Evan Zimmerman makes his own medicinal bitters, tonics and infusions to soothe the aches and pains (and nerves) of patrons. Unfortunately, though he has a reputation around town as a master of the craft, the drinks we ordered from the menu of specialty cocktails were underwhelming.

The heavenly foie.

Dave's chorizo margarita, which he ordered in honor of the evening's meaty theme, contained chorizo-spiced tequila, sours and agave nectar. While one could argue the wisdom of ordering a sausage-inflected cocktail, it was barely a decent margarita, suffering from a lack of citrus-y punch and a balance of sweetness. My N.S. Pimm's, made from Pimm's No. 1, ginger and cucumber soda, had an excess of cucumber flavor, and the ginger was so thick (though oddly not overpowering) it made the drink a muddy mess.

Teres Major with romesco.

But fear not, because the mechanics in the kitchen under the direction of master meat guy Ben Dyer know what they're doing with all things footed and finned. Our starter of house-cured salt cod fritters with aioli rivaled those at Toro Bravo, the browned and crunchy exterior giving way to a creamy, smooth center. The fritto misto of razor clams and squash blossoms was good, though the braised shortrib and mozzarella risotto fritters were curiously absent any short rib flavor. Our OMG moment, however, came from the foie gras torchon, a slice of the most buttery, creamy and heavenly foie I've ever had, augmented by a nearly unnecessary pistachio butter and fig mostarda.

The reuben.

The best part of the meal, as you may have already guessed, were the mains that included Dave's 12-hour smoked brisket (top photo), my Teres Major, a shoulder "tender" with romesco and Mr. B's reuben. The brisket, a bronto-sized hunk that covered most of the plate, was deeply smoky and lightly sauced and got a big two thumbs up from our house smoke-meister.

The shoulder was a perfectly cooked medium rare, as ordered, with a barely smoky romesco and a sprinkling of finishing salt that gave a nice brightness and crunch. The corned beef in the reuben, while really good, didn't reach the bar set by Kenny & Zuke's, Mr. B's standard for reubeny greatness. It wasn't helped by the overly tart house-made sauerkraut or the extreme greasiness that turned his plate into a grease pit. The fries that came with the sandwich, however, were terrific, especially when dipped in the aioli left from our apps.

The service at this new entry on the dining scene is attentive and experienced, even thought it's clear they're still working out the kinks. Word is that the sandwiches served during the day are fantastic, and the butcher shop is getting a reputation for its selection of unusual cuts of meat and more-than-fair pricing. Overall, it's still early days at the Market, and I'm excited to see how it develops as it finds its stride.

Details: Laurelhurst Market, 3155 E Burnside. Phone 503-206-3097 (restaurant), 503-206-3099 (butcher shop).

Wake-Up Call

By now you'd think we Portlanders would be jaded about such things. Like robins in the spring, or ants on the sidewalk or yet another Republican forecasting doom and gloom should the free-spending Obama administration be allowed to throw away more public money on something as unnecessary as health care for all Americans. (If they'd only been as vocal about Bush and his war in Iraq, or the shenanigans in the banking industry, huh?) But I digress.

I really can't speak for anyone else, but I was anything but ho-hum when I saw that a new coffee shop had opened in a moribund little strip of shops on the corner of NE 7th and Knott. Situated under the sheltering branches of an elderly plane tree and designed to look like a Parisian street cafe, Cartola serves Stumptown coffee to an increasingly dedicated neighborhood fan base, even though it's been open just over a month.

Named for Brazilian composer and one of the originators of samba, Angenor de Oliveira, known as Cartola, it's a little jewel box of a place, with a comfy banquette inside and tables on the wide sidewalk outside. It's the perfect spot to spend a morning reading the paper, sipping a coffee and talking with neighbors. Especially with a samba playing softly in the background.

Watch a video of Cartola singing the classic samba "Alvorada."

Details: Cartola, 2723 NE 7th Ave. Phone 503-281-1420.

Farm Bulletin: Farewell to Frikeh

Anthony and Carol Boutard of Ayers Creek Farm return to the Hillsdale Farmers' Market this Sunday, but will be without a unique seasonal product that their customers have come to love. Anthony explains:

Several years ago, we started experimenting with various grains at Ayers Creek Farm. Our research led us to an ancient food called "frikeh" (above). Produced by farmers since Biblical times, frikeh is wheat harvested while still green, then burned (parched) and threshed. The resulting grain is jade green with a grassy, sweet and smokey flavor. The green wheat is more nutritious than mature wheat, and high in fiber. Over the last five years, we have sold frikeh for a short time in early summer. With its smokey quality, our frikeh offers a distinct and exciting variation on normal starchy grains. It is especially popular with vegetarians.

The durum wheat after parching.

Frikeh is prepared throughout the Middle East. Until we began our experiments, there was no commercial production of frikeh in the US. There is a three-day window where the grain, durum wheat, can be burned. It is a rustic process, the grain is parched in the field on sheets of corrugated metal. Once parched, the grain must then be dried outside on screens covered to protect it from the sun and birds. You can see traditional frikeh preparation here.

Frikeh is an ideal crop for small farms which need to add value to overcome the disadvantage they have relative to "economies of scale. For a more detailed discussion of our experience with the grain and its production, go here. Because of a new and aggressive direction taken by the Oregon Department of Agriculture Food Safety Division, we will not be able to sell frikeh this summer.

Here's the problem. The Oregon Department of Agriculture (ODA) has just decided to define frikeh as a "processed food," same as Spam, Marshmallow Fluff or Fruit Loops. Because it is prepared in the field, there is no industrial facility to license. Last week we were notified by the ODA that we are prohibited from selling frikeh.

Is there a food safety issue with frikeh? Absolutely not, it has been prepared for 3,000 years or so without a blemish upon its reputation. In fact, ODA allows the sale of frikeh imported from Lebanon, Jordan and Syria. Nonetheless, it bans the locally produced frikeh. Yes, this flies in the face of common sense, sound food policy, and the basic principles of food safety. What's the difference? Our frikeh is fresh, certified organic, locally produced, and contains no additives.

The problem is not just the banning of locally produced frikeh, absurd as it is. The ODA has adopted an extremely broad definition of food processing: "The cooking, baking, heating, drying, mixing, grinding, churning, separating, extracting, cutting, freezing, or otherwise manufacturing a food or changing the physical characteristics of a food, and the packaging, canning, or otherwise enclosing of such food in a container." (OAR 603-025-0010(10)) This definition provides for no hazard analysis. It is just a laundry list that only works in the favor of large scale industrial operations.

As such, it sweeps up whole foods that people have never considered processed. Dry and fresh shell beans, dried peppers, grains, even garlic, all fall into ODA's definition of processed foods. The steep licensing fees will discourage farmers from trying new ways to present food. For example, up to now, most of us have quietly interpreted the rule to exclude casual drying of peppers on the plant. That has changed because ODA sought severe means to keep farmers and other vendors in line, and the legislature accommodated them by increasing civil penalties from $250 to $10,000.

What is troubling to us as farmers is the absence of a larger, positive and forward-looking vision of farmers' markets within the ODA. It saddens us that the Oregon Department of Agriculture has chosen to be an impediment to small farm operations such as ours. As many other states have recently worked to relax the regulation of nonhazardous food preparation, and expand the potential for family farm income, Oregon is moving in the opposite direction. Those of us who sell directly to the public take food safety very seriously, so it should not be a surprise that there have been no incidents of food borne illnesses reported at Oregon's farmers markets.

This is a three part essay. In the next installment, we will summarize how other states have encouraged small farm enterprises through policy and statutes. The third will offer some thoughts on the ways in which Oregon can encourage the growth of farm enterprises. On the 26th of July, we will return to our musings on birds, insects and other aspects of pastoral life in the Gaston Agricultural District.

Be sure to read Part II: A Way Forward for Oregon and Part III: Fixing the Problem, which has links for the legislators you need to write to.

In Season NW: Shop for Fun at Farmers' Markets

"Summertime in the Northwest is a double-edged sword.

"The kids are out of school (or perhaps the spouse is on vacation). They want to be 'entertained' and they need to be fed. But who wants to be stuck in the house—let alone in the kitchen with the stove seething—when the siren song of the outdoors beckons so sweetly?

"The solution: Portland's farmers' markets."

Check out my article in today's Arts & Entertainment section of the Oregonian titled "Shopping for Fun: Farmers' markets offer more than just farm-fresh produce." It profiles five of the area's hottest market, with tips on the best places for sampling, takeout and eating right there.

Oregonian photo of Mark Doxtader preparing spring onions at the PSU market.

* * *

A New Market on Hayden Island: Just got word that Hayden Island Farmers' Market is joining the 40 or so markets in the Portland area. It will be the only year-round indoor market in the group, operating inside Jantzen Beach Center every Tuesday from 2 to 7 pm starting July 7.

Down on the Farm

What more could you ask of a day in the country? The sky a robin's egg blue, the light clear and the sun just beginning its decline, painting the fields a slightly golden hue. Positively bucolic.

Anthony and Carol Boutard (left) had planned out the schedule with military precision, and the Ayers Creek Farm open house went off without a hitch, right down to the pizzas that were spitting out of Mark Doxtader's brick oven like mortars out of a firing tube. It wouldn't have surprised me if Anthony had his orderly display of soil amendments alphabetized, his lecture skillfully sprinkled with amusing anecdotes to keep his guests' attention while he extolled the virtues of each mineral.

And when it came to the tour of the fields of charentais melons, pole beans and sorghum that will be stocking their booth at the Hillsdale Farmers' Market starting this Sunday, he cleverly hit the rows of ripe raspberries (right) exactly halfway through so that listeners could gorge themselves (and stain their fingers that telltale reddish hue), getting a sugar hit that would carry them through to the end of the tour.

The cleverest ploy, however, came when Carol started bagging up the several flats of leftover sweet potato starts (left) that she couldn't bear to throw away and handed them out as party favors. It was so tempting that even I considered bringing some home and finding a spot for them in my already overstuffed beds.

To get serious for a moment, though, these two are acting on their conviction that food is best when grown by people you know and trust and consumed close to the source. And that talking about the love they have for their land and the pleasure they take in sharing its bounty with their customers translates into more aware consumers. To put it more succinctly, they rock!

Quick Dinner? Grab the Peanut Butter!

When I was young I loved to read my mother's "ladies'" (not women's, no sir!) magazines. The Ladies Home Journal and Good Housekeeping featured women scurrying around the house making everything perfect for their lovely children and wonderful husband, makeup impeccably applied and hair freshly coiffed for the moment when their man walked in the door from his hard day at the office.

A recurring feature over the years, no doubt endlessly entertaining to the wives at their bridge parties, was a wacky idea called "breakfast for dinner" where the family would dress in pajamas and have pancakes and sausages instead of steak and potatoes. ("Imagine the squeals of delight from the young ones!")

I've never been a big fan of American breakfasts in general, so the idea of making it for dinner doesn't really appeal, either. So when I need a quick dinner solution, I grab the peanut butter from the fridge and some frozen shrimp or chicken from the freezer and make an Asian-inspired pasta dish that can include whatever green and crunchy things (peas, green onions, etc.) are in your veggie drawer. Pajamas, while appropriate any time of day around here, are obviously optional.

Pasta with Peanut Sauce, Snap Peas and Shrimp
Sauce adapted from All Around the World Cookbook by Sheila Lukins

For the peanut sauce:
1/4 c. soy sauce
1/4 c. rice vinegar
1/2 c. light coconut milk
1/2 tsp. salt
2 tsp. peeled fresh ginger
2 cloves garlic
6 Tbsp. peanut butter
3 Tbsp. peanut oil or vegetable oil
3 Tbsp. toasted sesame oil
1/2 tsp. chili oil or 1/2 tsp. red chile flakes
1/2-1 tsp. Thai fish sauce (nam pla)

For the pasta:
1 lb. pasta or 9 oz. buckwheat soba
1 Tbsp. vegetable oil
2 c. sliced snap peas (or other crunchy green things)
1/2 lb. frozen shrimp
Cilantro leaves for garnish

Bring large pot of water to boil. While it heats, put all sauce ingredients into bowl of food processor and process until it makes a smooth sauce. When pot of water boils, add pasta and cook till al dente. While pasta cooks, heat vegetable oil in skillet and sauté peas briefly, then add shrimp. When shrimp turn pink, remove from heat. Drain pasta and put in serving bowl. Add peas and shrimp and half of sauce (the remainder is terrific as a dipping sauce with salad rolls or raw veggies). Toss and garnish with cilantro leaves.

Can Tract Homes and Tractors Mix?

In a startling article in today's New York Times, developers of subdivisions are dropping the once-ubiquitous golf course-with-every-development and instead are starting to include organic farms as a key part of their communities.

In the article, Ed McMahon, a senior fellow with the Urban Land Institute, said, "There are currently at least 200 projects that include agriculture as a key community component."

"Open space improves the return for a developer," he said. "We have 16,000 subdivisions around golf courses, where developers found they could charge a lot premium of 25 to 50 percent over comparable tract subdivision. But most people who live on golf courses do not play golf."

The article continues, "at the 220-home Serenbe project near Atlanta’s airport, the cachet of local produce has been added to retiree-friendly businesses, including galleries, a bed-and-breakfast and three restaurants. Steve Nygren, an Atlanta restaurant impresario, started the project on his 900-acre farm.

"'We preserved forest and pasture, and there were 20 acres left for an organic farm, and we also have a large wildflower meadow,' Mr. Nygren said. 'We’ve set up the design so 90 percent of the houses back up to one of those natural amenities. We are selling our lots at a premium that’s probably three times what the raw lot is.'

"Gus Burti, who lives with his wife, Maggie, at South Village [in Burlington, Vermont], says the farm helped clinch their purchase after a two-year search of the area. 'We used to live on a golf course in North Carolina and wanted to come back to Vermont,' he said. 'My wife loves to cook, and we like that it’s organic.'"

Photo by Paul O. Boisvert for The New York Times.

Attack of the Darling Dozen

The proof, as they say, is in the pudding. Or in the photo above.

Like the horror movie where a child finds a seemingly harmless little creature and brings it home, only to have it disembowel everything in sight in the bloodiest fashion imaginable and go on to wreak havoc until dispatched by the forces of goodness and innocence (or a large nuclear weapon), outward appearances don't always accurately depict the monster lurking within.

Right now, at four weeks old, would be the time to prevent the holy terror that these bear-like little fluffballs will soon be capable of, since their teeth, while sharp, aren't able to penetrate much besides their mushy food. But all too soon their jaws will develop, those teeth will become razor sharp and they'll develop a craving for flesh. Human flesh.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

Authentic Mexican in Portland

It's probably no secret to anyone who reads this blog, but I love Mexican food. And I'm not talking about burritos or chimichangas or anything piled with yellow cheese or sour cream.

I've waxed poetic (apologies to any poets out there) about Cafe Azul before, Claire Archibald's much-missed Mexican restaurant where nary a "burrito-sized" flour tortilla could be found and the only yellow on the plate came from stuffed squash blossoms, where there were richly flavored chile sauces that had simmered for hours if not days and authentic preparations were de rigeur.

And though there are other spots in town presenting Mexican food "inspired by" the cuisine of that country, much to my dismay no one has stepped into Ms. Archibald's admittedly hard-to-fill dancing shoes. So when I heard that Autentica, chef Oswaldo Bibiano's paean to his beloved Guerrero, was once again open for lunch and that it featured Mexican street food, I had to run over to give it a try.

Guerrero stretches along the Pacific Coast of Mexico from Michoacán on the west to Oaxaca on the east, and includes Acapulco, Zihuatanejo and the silver capital of Mexico, Taxco, within its borders. With its coastal location, I was hoping for seafood to predominate but, sadly, fish only appears once on the printed lunch menu in a fish taco, albeit a mighty tasty one. There are several fish items on the dinner menu, so you can be sure we'll go back and check them out.

The good news for lovers of this cuisine is that all of the ingredients are authentic, including the corn tortillas hand-rolled and pressed by the beautifully mature hands of a woman I was too shy to photograph. The smell of those warm, fresh tortillas rising from the cloth-covered basket that arrives on the table is swoon-inducing, especially when accompanied by Bibiano's trio of salsas: red chile, tomatillo and avocado.

My friend Jennifer and I started with the creamy horchata (above left), one of the best I've had in Portland, a silky cold drink made from rice, cinnamon, sugar and vanilla that you would swear was made with milk. The guacamole (right) was a simple, fresh bowlful that needed no dressing up except for maybe a dunk in one of those salsas.

The quesadilla con nopalitos (top photo), a house-made corn masa quesadilla stuffed with strips of roasted cactus, oaxacan cheese and onions was infused with epazote, the smoky-tasting green herb often found in regional preparations, especially black beans. The tortilla was stuffed with the aforementioned ingredients and then topped with roasted chunks of tomatoes with the traditional cabbage salad alongside. Nothing like the flat, lifeless and cheesy versions found at most places in town.

The fish tacos came piled with chile-rubbed grilled fish and covered with cabbage salad, and a squeeze of the lime wedge that came with it was like a flashback to the beaches of Mexico, the soft breeze blowing off the ocean and the fronds of a palapa waving overhead.

Completely stuffed, we had to stop there, but it's certainly not going to keep me from making Autentica a regular on my lunch circuit. And I definitely want to get in for dinner soon to see what seafood Oswaldo has cooking on his grill.

Details: Autentica, 5507 NE 30th, just north of Killingsworth. Phone 503-287-7555.

Trout Stuffing in America

Yes, the Fish Music, a poem by Richard Brautigan

A trout-colored wind blows through my eyes,
through my fingers,
and I remember how the trout
used to hide from the dinosaurs
when they came to drink at the river.
The trout hid in subways, castles,
and automobiles. They waited patiently for the dinosaurs to go away.

When I was in college I was obsessed with the work of Richard Brautigan (left), poet and author of "Trout Fishing in America" and "The Pill Versus the Springhill Mine Disaster," though my favorite was an obscure and hysterically funny novel titled "The Hawkline Monster, a Gothic Novel." Whimsical yet sad, his work gave me the same feeling I had reading Depression era writer William Saroyan.

But since this post is about trout, and to my knowledge William Saroyan never wrote about our swimmy friends, I'll leave him aside for now. Which brings me to the fish counter at New Seasons where your correspondent was looking for something to make for dinner. The fresh trout was priced at less than $6 a pound and ten bucks would feed all of us, so I bought three.

I had some of the pea shoot pesto left over from our pasta dinner a couple of nights before, as well as snap peas from the garden, so I stuffed the pesto inside the trout and made a risotto with the snap peas and spring onions. While it cooked, Dave grilled the trout on the Weber and we served them on the bed of risotto along with a salad of butter lettuce dressed with lemon olive oil and salt.

Needless to say, it's one of the best things I've made in the last several months. So if you happen to be here for dinner this summer and I bring out the trout and start going on about Richard Brautigan, act surprised, OK?

A Ramble Under the Oaks

idyllic (pron: \ī-ˈdi-lik; chiefly British; adj.; date: 1856) 1: pleasing or picturesque in natural simplicity. 2: of, relating to, or being an idyll

I wouldn't have been surprised to see a painter in a floppy hat standing at an easel, paintbrush poised in mid-air. The mown fields of long grass next to the lake, the stands of knarled white oaks and the moody skies were straight out of an English landscape painting.

Walking the loop trail through the Oak Island portion of the Sauvie Island Wildlife Area is not so much a hike as a ramble along a rutted road through low-lying pastures and freshwater lakes. As a major nesting area and migration route for birds, it's also a perfect place to do some amateur birding, so take along your Sibley guide.

I was there with my neighbor Connie and her gentle giant of a yellow lab, Emmitt, who was graciously escorting Walker on his first foray into the wilds of Sauvie Island. And even though the rules require them to be leashed to protect the birds and other wildlife, the dogs were fascinated by the sounds of critters scurrying through the underbrush and the smells they left behind them. We humans, while not as constrained (except by our leashed dogs), were constantly trying to identify various birds that flew up from the fields as we passed.

As we entered the grove of oaks in the center, Connie pointed out the large eagle's nest at the top of an oak snag just off the trail. It's apparently one of five nesting pairs in the refuge, and we stopped to listen to the baby calling for its parents to bring some lunch, though they didn't show up while we were there.

So if you're looking for an easy walk through a pastoral setting, this is one to put on the list. Just ten minutes from town, this is perfect for out-of-town guests, a romantic picnic with a view over a lake or a place for city dogs to have a little walk on the wild side.

How to Tell If You're a Boomer

The class description says it all (and, btw, I so want to attend):

If you finished your college degree without ever having taken the penultimate liberal arts class, Basket Weaving, then perhaps the time is now.

Margaret Mathewson.

Kookoolan Farms is honored to have Margaret Mathewson, ethnobotanist and basketry specialist, coming to our farm for a one-day, hands-on seminar in basket weaving. In this class you'll learn how to make a basket that can be used as a cheese mold or artisan bread mold, as a very personal gift, or for any other household purpose.

The style is a 'Shaker' Cheese basket. The class will start at 9 and conclude at 5 pm, and includes a lunch of chicken salad (or all-veggie salad for vegetarians) made of 100% Kookoolan Farms-grown ingredients plus locally-baked bread from Red Fox Bakery prepared and served by Farmer Chrissie. Your class fee of $60 includes full lunch, unlimited homemade iced kombucha tea all day long, and all class materials for you to make your own basket. (For those preferring to bring their own lunch, the class is $48.)

Margaret Mathewson holds a PhD from UC Berkeley, teaches anthropology at OSU in Corvallis, works with museum collections, and teaches basketry at her own rural complex in the Oregon Coast Range. She has studied with California native artisans, and is a consultant to several Indian Nations and museums. She's an excellent instructor, knowledgeable about all kinds of basket materials and many basket-making styles and techniques, and is an expert in fiber and foraging as well.

Her protégées Zak and TJ will be assisting in the class so there will be plenty of hands-on instruction to support all students. A year and a half ago, Zak spent about three weeks living with Chrissie and Koorosh on the farm—he assisted in framing and trussing our barn, and with our very first Thanksgiving butchering.

Details: Make A Shaker Cheese Basket. Sunday, Aug. 23, 9 am-5 pm; $60, lunch included. Reservations required. To register call Chrissie at 503-730-7535 or send her an e-mail. Kookoolan Farms, 15713 Hwy. 47, Yamhill.

Thoughts On: Birth and Death on a Farm, Pt. 3

Chrissie Zaerpoor of Kookoolan Farms continues the series (read part one and part two) about trade-offs, transitions and new beginnings on their farm in Yamhill:

Last year we kept eight milking Nubian goats, and had 16 baby goat kids during the kidding season. They were the cutest things, and we bottle fed them three times a day for a total of about 16 weeks. Of the 16 kids, only three were girls (of course, since they're dairy animals, you hope for a larger percentage of girls than boys). We tried keeping the goats on the same pasture with the cows, since they're all dairy animals and they eat the same grass and hay and alfalfa ration.

The larger cows bullied the goats away from the feeders until they had their fill, and then as soon as the cows turned their backs, the goats all jumped into the feeders and pooped and peed on the feed. The result was that nobody ate and nobody produced much milk. So then we tried keeping the goats on the perimeter of the broiler chickens, separated by portable electronet fencing.

But goats are clever and persistent, and they knew that in the middle of all those broiler chickens was essentially an unlimited supply of open cookie and cereal boxes. They challenged the fencing all day long, every day. Eventually two of the young doelings strangled themselves to death in the fencing, which was hugely saddening to all of us, and led to our difficult decision to sell all the goats and to choose cow milk only rather than both cow and goat milk. The bonus has been that the cows are happier and easier to take care of than ever; and we are now able to have orchards and vegetable gardens, which was never a possibility while we still had the goats.

Our odyssey with Cornish cross meat chickens has been much the same: they are adorable little yellow fluffballs when they arrive as day-old chicks (top photo), and yet they become food. Koorosh and I both learned to work up our nerves until we were finally able to slaughter them ourselves, and then slaughter lots of them by ourselves.

We built a loyal following of customers who loved the chickens we produced, and we built a large barn to house them during Oregon's cold, wet winters. But the more intimate we became with their habits and health, the less enamored we became of this hybrid breed. The decision to shift our business away from a large volume of Cornish cross chickens has brought a balance of plants and animals to our farm, and a balance of more home and farm life for our family, and one more farm "off the grid" for factory-raised chicks.

And that barn we built for the chickens? Half of it has new life as a dairy barn, and the other half has new life as a wood shop for custom woodworking and window-building. Meanwhile we're also doing a lot more with cheesemaking classes and other farmcraft classes (check out the Classes and Events page on our website).

A successful farm—any successful small business, really—should continually be changing and growing and re-evaluating itself. We know that we will have lots more intimate connections with endings, and we look forward to many more new beginnings.

Because We've Always Done It That Way

In our family it was the lemon jello cake in the aluminum pan with the sliding lid that my mom always made to take to picnics. This week Jim Dixon of RealGoodFood shares a traditional recipe from the Dixon family for chocolate birthday cake.

The Dixons have been eating this cake at every birthday for as long as I can remember. My mother, who lives just down the street, makes it even if the birthday celebrant requests something different because, if you can believe it, she (and you know who you are) doesn’t like chocolate.

Nan’s Sour Cream Chocolate Cake with Richmond Frosting

Mix together the dry ingredients:
2 c. flour
2 c. sugar
1/2 tsp. salt (granulated...if you use kosher or sea salt, use 1 tsp.)
1 tsp. baking soda

In a small saucepan, combine 1 cup of water, 2 sticks (1 cup) of butter, and 3 Tbsp. cocoa, preferably Hershey’s special dark, and bring to a boil. Mix into flour and sugar.

Combine 1/2 c. sour cream, 1 tsp. vanilla, and 2 beaten eggs, then add to batter. Bake in a 9" by 13" pan at 350° for 25 minutes or until done (aka the clean knife test).

For the frosting, combine 1 c. sugar with 3 Tbsp. cornstarch in a small saucepan. In another pan (or in the microwave), heat until nearly boiling 1 c. water and 2 squares unsweetened chocolate. Add to the sugar/cornstarch mix and bring to boil, stirring constantly. Cook until it begins to thicken, then remove from heat and add 3 Tbsp. butter and 1 tsp. vanilla. Pour over the cake while it’s still warm, and the frosting will spread and self-level.

Let cool and serve with good vanilla ice cream.

Toast on Every Corner!

In his usual incisive way, my brother said it best. "There should be a place like this in every neighborhood."

We were halfway through our dinner at Toast, and he was not only remarking on the quality of the food, which had thus far been outstanding, but also on the noisy intimacy of a place where people come to have a good time and eat well, whether they're celebrating a special occasion or just enjoying being together.

The room itself is a simple box containing an open kitchen and a counter lined with stools, with tables along one wall that might hold 30 people in a pinch. And the ingredients are the same seasonal greens and locally raised meats that can be found at many higher-end restaurants in town.

But those ingredients are treated with a light, understated touch by chef Jonathan Staehr, and it's their bright, fresh flavors that are the stars of the evening, not him. And prices are moderate by any standard, with nothing topping $20 and with most under $15, a bargain considering what you'd pay in other places.

For instance, our starter of a pea salad with baby green beans, pea shoots and speck (above left) was a gorgeous crunchy pile of greenness that tasted like spring. And the clams with white wine, garlic, chorizo and a nettle purée (right) was a hefty explosion of flavor that, at the same time, let the delicate flavor of the Manila clams stand out. And I don't need to tell you we sopped up all the broth we could before letting the dish leave the table.

Dave's pork loin (top photo) was juicy and succulent, with a perfect crust on the outside and just the right pinkness inside, the thick slices sitting on a bed of hearty greens dressed with vinaigrette and fried capers, one of my new favorite ways to serve meat. The house burger (left) was my brother's choice, made from ground hanger steak that makes the patty light and full of flavor. It was amusingly perched between two thick slices of toasted house-baked bread, which have a light texture that holds up to the burger's juiciness and don't fall apart halfway through (a pet peeve, can you tell?). Oh, and if you're a devotée of my brother's blog, this burger has now rocketed to second place on his very tough list of the best in town.

My gnocchi with morels, asparagus and fresh herbs (right) was terrific, the gnocchi seared on the outside but still tender inside so that the meaty texture of the morels had something to bounce off of, the asparagus giving a lightness (there's that word again) to the whole dish.
Dessert was a small scoop of housemade fresh strawberry ice cream with macerated strawberries and two little pound cakes all sprinkled with powdered sugar and drizzled with strawberry syrup, a delight on all counts and perfect for sharing. Especially when owner Donald Kotler brought over two little snifters of Clear Creek Grappa to wash it all down.

So until Donald and Jonathan clone themselves, I guess we'll be driving over to 52nd and Steele more often. Because even if it's not in our neighborhood, it sure feels like home.

Details: Toast, 5222 SE 52nd Ave. Phone 503-774-1020. (Note: Toast will be closed for vacation the first week in July).

Labeling Organic Food

In her column Food Matters in the San Francisco Chronicle, nutrition and public policy expert Marion Nestle addresses the charge that organic food is only for the elite.

Q: Aren't organics elitist? People can't buy organic foods if they aren't available at an affordable price.

A: I once heard Eric Schlosser answer a similar question aimed at his book, "Fast Food Nation." He pointed out that social movements have to begin somewhere and that several began with elites but ended up helping the poor and disenfranchised - the civil rights, environmental and women's movements, for example.

Marion Nestle.

I would add the organic movement to this list. It has already forced mainstream food producers to start cutting down on pesticides and to raise farm animals more humanely. As the supply of organic foods increases, and the Wal-Marts of the world sell more of them, organics should become more democratic.

But please don't blame organic producers for the high prices. Until the latest farm bill, which has a small provision for promotion of organic agriculture, organic farmers received not one break from the federal government. In contrast, the producers of corn, soybeans, wheat and cotton continue to get $20 billion or so a year in farm subsidies.

Industrial agriculture also benefits from federally administered marketing programs and from cozy relationships with congressional committees and the USDA. In contrast, the USDA considers fruits and vegetables "specialty crops." This kind of food politics shows up as higher prices in the grocery store.

Dealing with the elitism implied by the higher cost of organics means doing something about income inequities. If we want elected representatives to care more about public health than corporate health, let's work to remove the corruption from election campaign contributions. If Congress were less beholden to corporations, we might be able to create a system that paid farmers and farm workers decently and sold organic foods at prices that everyone could afford.

The organic gardens at the White House and USDA send an important signal that the way we grow food makes a difference. Let's hope they also symbolize a new era in agricultural policies, one that unites the letter and spirit of the organic movement.

Photo of Marion Nestle by Kim Komenich for the San Francisco Chronicle.

Not Just Another Cuppa Joe

You sniff. You slurp. You spit. You evaluate based on various criteria: taste, acidity, aftertaste and body. Then there are flavor characteristics to consider. Green apples? Chocolate? Dirt?

Evan evaluating the aroma of the dry coffee.

What used be just a warm, dark elixir brought to me by Juan Valdez and his donkey and served to wake me up in the morning has turned into an art akin to making a fine Bordeaux or Burgundy. So when I heard that Ali and Evan at the Little Red Bike Cafe were hosting a cupping of Joel Domreis' Courier Coffee, I thought I'd drop in and check it out.

Joel discussing the fine points of the roast.

The cafe was packed with a crowd of young folk who seemed to be taking their coffee very seriously. They listened intently as Joel introduced the coffee we would be tasting, an organically grown Brazil Perdizes de Minas fazenda Nossa Senhora de Fatima. (Say that six times fast.) From the town of Perdizes in the Cerrado region of Minas Gerias, a state in Brazil, the coffee varietal was Icatu and had been imported by the Mercanta company of London. Joel had roasted it on six different days for different amounts of time to determine the preferred roast.

Lists in hand, we took in the aroma of the dried coffees arrayed before us, then watched as boiling water was poured over the grounds and waited as it steeped for three to four minutes. Then noses went close to the cap of grounds as the crust was broken (top photo) and the inhaling of the fragrance of the brewed coffee commenced.

After that the grounds were skimmed off and we were finally allowed to taste the coffee, and though spitting is normally the rule, I admit to swallowing a few gulps just to get the full effect. Discussion ensued, notes were compared and a certain geekiness prevailed, but the coffees were great and it was fascinating to taste the subtle differences between them.

For a sample of what a professional cupping is like, see my article on The New Portland Coffee Micro Roasters (scroll down to the last section).

Even Dozen at 3 Weeks

Went back to get my cuteness fix and wasn't disappointed. They're almost a month old and wobbling around, starting to play with each other and being quite a handful for their mom. (Is that a panicked look I see in Crystal's eye?)

Thought you'd like a peek.