Farm Bulletin: Amblin' Entertainment

Contributor Anthony Boutard explains a critical part of the assessment regime at Ayers Creek Farm. The results of this method are on display every Sunday at the Hillsdale Farmers Market from 10 am till 2 pm.

The return of cool evenings is most welcome, by us and the fruit. The slow amble is an essential element of farming. The utility vehicle and the ATV are essential forms of farm transportation. A check of the pump or making sure all is well before settling in for the evening takes but a few minutes, it is fast, and allows you to think about the next task or the beer in the fridge.

Ambling along on foot, zig-zagging methodically through the rows, allows the farmer to assess progress and permits ideas for changes to crystalize. We remembered this week an old market farmer who told us you can only grow melons for about five years, and then you never want to see the stinking things again. We lasted eight before snapping.

We don't shrink from difficult crops, but the Charentais is a demanding and miserable prima donna, an imperious ingrate always rewarding eagerness and optimism with an equal and opposite force. The grower begins to take on the haunted appearance of the professor in the Blue Angel (above), pathetically clinging to the night club long after Dietrich's Lola-Lola has taken on a new and equally hapless lover.

But we were talking about the amble, weren't we?

The grapes are looking beautiful; the clusters are full and well-shaped. Though still green and hard, the vineyard has a subtle peppery fragrance the comes with developing fruit. In the vegetable block next to the vineyard the chicories have all emerged. We have easily doubled the area planted, and we hope to have a good supply this winter. The pole beans are doing well, and we should start picking some Preacher and Garden of Eden beans next week. The sweet potatoes soaked up the warm spell and the vines are now three feet long. Disentangling ourselves from the melons will allow us to increase sweet potato production.

Hot Hat

Ever since our friend J got a new chapeau at John Helmer, Dave's been getting that look. The one that says he just might be in the market. Not to buy one, mind you, but just look.

You see, he used to be quite the hat guy. You may have noticed the Kangol driving hat in the picture at left from a previous post. It rarely left his noggin even in the coldest of winters, when he was an intrepid reporter and photographer for a local paper. Maybe because he grew up experiencing the arctic conditions of winters in New England. (With the frostbitten ears to prove it.)

He also wore a hat when he posed rolling his own cigarette (yes, he used to smoke but gave it up long ago) when he sent the photo on the right to his pals back home. Just to let them know he'd given up the civilized life back East for something a bit wilder, more appropriate to a Northwesterner.

So when the chance came to go on a quick field trip to take some hat-loving friends to John Helmer, he jumped at the chance. To look, not necessarily to buy. But when he put on the gorgeous straw panama shown above and everyone in the shop gasped in awe, well, what could he do?

Authentic Mexican, Revisited

We have friends who love hot weather. Nothing suits them better than temps in the 90s with a haze of sweat cooling their brows. They strip down, grab a cool drink and embrace the heat.

This is a margarita to beat the heat.

But for a lot of Oregonians, every degree over 85 ratchets up the whining, the pouting and the scowling, as if the gods were punishing us personally for some transgression or other. So you can imagine the wailing and gnashing of teeth that accompanied last week's 100-plus degree heat wave. Like pouty little babies, we sat in our sweltering houses, most devoid of air conditioning ("You only need it a few days a year, so why spend the money?"), and cursed Satan's handmaiden, aka the TV weatherman.

Try as I might to maintain my new mantra to "be here now," one day I just couldn't face another salad for dinner and called my brother and his lovely bride to see if they'd like to join us at Autentica for a margarita and dinner. Facing spending the evening in a house that may have been even hotter than ours, they quickly agreed after being assured the place had AC.

Octopus salad.

When we got there the air conditioner was having trouble keeping up with the heat generated by the crowd packing the place, like us looking for a respite from their overheated lives. It wasn't unmanageable, though, and once we had a round of excellent margaritas in hand, not to mention flowing down our throats, the evening was looking much more promising.

The thick blue corn tortillas and three house salsas were a good beginning, but an appetizer of their wonderful guacamole and a cold pulpo (octopus) salad spiked with lime soothed any prickly tendencies that remained. And like the lunch I enjoyed earlier, all of the flavors in our entrées had memories washing over us from our trips to Mexico's west coast.

Pescado con hueso.

My barbacoa de res (top), a traditional slow cooked marinated beef served with pinto beans fried with chorizo and cotija cheese, was not only gorgeous sitting on its corn husk wrapper, but was fall-apart tender and rich. And the chuleta de puerco, a pan-fried Carlton farm pork chop with garlic and onions, was served over a mouthwatering mole pobre sauce with a side of green beans braised with tomatoes. The mole itself, while noticeably chocolately, also had enough bite and depth from the chiles to balance out any sweetness, a difficult act to pull off.

The pescado con hueso, a roasted fish steak with garlic, was served over a spicy avocado and tomatillo sauce with white rice. Moist and perfectly cooked till just tender and served under a shower of cilantro and red onion, it was a lovely light touch among our other hefty choices. Somewhat cooled off and very full, we opted out of dessert and hit the street just as a nice breeze was picking up, another nice echo of our Mexican trip. We'll definitely have to go back.

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

Farewell to Frikeh, Part III: Fixing the Problem

In this final installment of the series, contributor Anthony Boutard of Ayers Creek Farm outlines how the ODA and state legislators can help small scale farmers increase the value of their crops. (What is he talking about? Read Part I and Part II.)

The movies Food, Inc., King Corn, Michael Pollan's book Omnivore's Dilemma and a host of other films and books have identified the substantial flaws in our food supply. These problems seem remote and insurmountable, and the best we can do as individuals is to shift our buying habits. When the Oregon Department of Agriculture (ODA) uses its rules to say frikeh (parched green wheat) and other traditional farm products cannot be sold in a farmers' market, it brings a local dimension to the problem. Fortunately, we have the ability to initiate constructive changes at the local level.

Farmers' markets have been operating in Oregon for almost 30 years. The oldest still operates in Grants Pass. The Portland Farmers' Market started in 1993 and was originally located in the Albers Mills parking area. These markets allowed nonconventional, small scale farmers to survive. For the first decade or so, the markets were ignored by the ODA. In the mid 1990s, the bureaucracy started to get itchy as markets started to sprout up in urban areas. To address the situation, a couple of market managers sat down with ODA staff and crafted a set of guidelines for vendors. Earlier this year, the agency started an aggressive campaign to increase regulation of farmers' markets. The agency has decided to draft rules later in the autumn and possibly require licenses for farmers' market vendors.

Was there an incident that gave rise their concerns? No. For three decades, Oregon's farmers' markets have operated safely, and without any reported food borne illness incidents. In fact, this exemplary safety record is reflected nationwide. It is clear that factors other than straightforward food safety concerns are behind the move to further regulate farmers' markets. After all, the food safety challenges are arising from the complexities of the food industry that is already regulated by ODA and other agencies, not the simple open air farmers' market. Data and science tell us ODA is moving in exactly the wrong direction.

The Oregon Legislature has never grappled with the question of whether and how to regulate farmers' markets. There is no policy or set of laws that relate to farmers' markets. The basic statutes governing food safety were drafted long before farmers' markets and other direct sales venues became institutions. Leaving ODA to regulate direct sales without an open and public discussion will be disastrous. We believe it is time for the legislature to take a look at how other states regulate farmers' markets and food production from small scale farms, and come up with a coherent approach for Oregon. We provided several examples of states with more progressive approaches than Oregon.

The reality is, Oregon makes it very difficult for small scale farms to increase the value of their crops. For example, there is a domestic kitchen license, but it requires no pets in the building where the kitchen is located. In our case, we cannot get a domestic kitchen license as long as our beloved dog Tito still lives. Other licenses are expensive and the requirements so burdensome that few farms even explore the option.

There is a land use dimension. Our farm is zoned Exclusive Farm Use, 80 acres, High Value Farmland. This means we cannot divide the land and have few options for the land other than agriculture. We support those laws. That said, because the land use laws are predicated upon the farmer's ability to manage the land profitably, the state should be circumspect about depriving a farmer of the ability to produce a food like frikeh on the land without good cause. Unless there is a clear safety or environmental rationale, farmers should be able to extract as much benefit from their labor on the land as possible.

The interim between sessions is a good time to contact legislators. Senator Jackie Dingfelder and Representative Brian Clem, who chair the legislative committees that oversee agriculture, along with your own legislators, should be contacted. Various groups concerned about food supply and quality also need to initiate the discussion with Sen. Dingfelder and Rep. Clem. If we are going to have a healthy market farm sector, we need to establish separate policies and laws governing the sector. Picking up on the bicycle analogy, it does not make sense to force bicyclists to wear seat belts when a helmets are what is needed.

This is where we need your help. We need as many people as possible to encourage Sen. Dingfelder and Rep. Clem to have their committees to discuss small scale farming and its reliance direct sales venues such as farmers' markets and community supported agriculture (CSA). We need tiered rules that are grounded in good science and hazard analysis. We need profitable small farms if we want to preserve farmland. We need the state to recognize the fundamental safety of a direct sale between producer and consumer.

There is great concern among farmers and market managers regarding ODA's push for greater regulation. For most of us, this is time when we are the busiest, and so we need the other leg of the three-legged market stool, our customers, to help us. As things progress, we will keep you updated.

You can e-mail Sen. Jackie Dingfelder and Rep. Brian Clem to express your concerns about this issue, and you can click on the link to find your legislator's contact information (including their e-mail addresses).

Unmitigated Disaster

I was at home when Mt. St. Helens blew her top. I got a call from Dave, who was working at a newspaper at the time, asking if I'd like to go with him and try to get some pictures for the next day's edition. We got as far as a hilltop overlooking the mountain near Amboy, Washington, and started snapping shots of what looked like one of the biggest natural disasters in Northwest history. That was 29 years ago, and it's hard to see now, much less imagine, what that devastation was like.

We thought we had our own disaster, though without the extreme consequences, the other night when Dave went out to check on the chicken he was roasting on the grill. He'd soaked a couple of hunks of hickory and put them on the hot coals, and an hour later found what looked like a blackened cinder (albeit still chicken-shaped) on the grill. Though when he checked the temperature, all looked well.

So he brought it into the kitchen and the house filled with a smoky, intoxicating aroma. The skin was caramelized and deeply smoked, and the flavor of the meat underneath was delicately laced with the same taste. Next time we'll do a couple of these birds, having one for dinner and using the other for tacos, salads and snacking on. And the stock, which is bubbling away on the stove right now, might be the perfect base for a fabulous paella that we'll be doing on the grill later this week.

Our First Drink

That old cliché about dropping a rock in a pond? The one where the subsequent ripples cause effects far beyond the initial action? That's what happened around here when Dave learned to make margaritas.

The ripple effect from that simple beginning has reverberated through many dinner parties and backyard gatherings, and revealed a thus-far hidden talent for mixology, one I would place on the level of a superpower. All it took to bring this mighty power to full brilliance was a bit of encouragement, a cocktail-making class from the estimable Lucy Brennan and out poured a flood of martinis, negronis and toddies, shaken, stirred, mixed and blended.

And the margarita that started it all? You'll find Dave's recipe below, but be warned: There's no telling where it might lead.

Dave's Ultra Margarita
Adapted from the Coyote Cafe

2 Tbsp. extrafine sugar
6 Tbsp. lime juice
3 oz. blue agave tequila
2 tsp. Cointreau or triple sec
Kosher salt
1 lime

Put large-size martini glasses in freezer to chill. Fill cocktail shaker 2/3 full of ice. Put all ingredients into shaker. Shake till "the sound starts to change just a little bit" (10-15 seconds at most). Take glasses out of freezer. Put salt in a wide, shallow container. Cut a small wedge of lime, make small cut in center of the wedge from cut edge to pith. Put over edge of glass and run the wedge around it. Holding the glass at an angle, submerge the edge in the pile of salt and twirl. Put one large ice cube in glass. Pour 1/2 of margarita mixture in each glass.

Truck Farm

"Parking spaces are an under-utilized open space," Ellis said with a laugh. "The idea is to bring it into places where there is not enough fresh food available and get people talking about the issues."

In an article in the Washington Post this week, writer Jane Black dug up the news that Ian Cheney and Oregon native Curt Ellis, filmmakers and creators of the marvelous documentary King Corn, have literally hit the road with their latest project. While King Corn took Ellis and Cheney to Iowa to grow an acre of corn, the new project is somewhat smaller in scale to reflect their new focus on urban agriculture.

Cheney's run-down 1986 Dodge pickup was getting a maximum of 10 miles per gallon and, instead of taking it to the junk yard or leaving it parked on the street, the guys decided to turn it into a teaching tool to (yes, here comes another one) jump start a discussion on farming when you don't have enough land.

The process is documented by three "webisodes" available on their website (click on Truck Farm) with great music that carries the story along. They'll be uploading new episodes every month until the movie comes out, and you can sign up to be notified of events leading up to the film's release. Great guys, great project, great fun!

Corgi Update: Walker Turns Two

OK, OK, I know you guys are all "What the f--- is this thing she has about Corgis?" But, look, you have to put up with some of the silly to get the good stuff, right? And it is a really cute picture, right? (And even if I'm not right, it's my blog and I can post pictures of my cute dog if I want. So there. Ha.)

The Buzz: Beaker & Flask

A revealing personal detail: I like lab equipment. Actually, I love it. The clear glass, the odd shapes, the tubes, the beakers (just the word "beaker" sets me off), the flasks. I'd use them for everything if I could only find a good (and cheap) supplier. So when I heard that there was a new bar in town called Beaker & Flask, I was in.

The "Walk, Don't Run"…refreshing and light.

I can't remember when there was that much anticipation around an opening. But then, the opening had been delayed for more than a year from first estimates by the various vagaries of remodeling an older space for a new purpose and the vicissitudes of dealing with the OLCC (all of which are exhaustively detailed in their blog). Owner Kevin Ludwig even did a stint as bar manager for Clyde Common for a bit, as he said, "because a boy and his dog cannot survive on intermittent staff meal(s) and smiles from strangers."

Ah, Blanche, we feel your pain.

But open he did, and the place is an airy yet fairly compact space with a minimalist, monochromatic, mid-century look. A long open bar stretches down one end and curvy round booths curl against the curved west-facing wall (how long has it been since you've seen round tuck-and-roll booths?) and there's a definitely low-key but efficient vibe on the part of the staff.

Squash blossoms with ricotta, peas and tasso ham.

The cocktails are as good, if not better, than many of the city's better bars, with a knowledgeable hands at the shaker. Housemade tonics appear, as do an array of bitters and unusual (though not just for the sake of being different) liqueurs. But the food here was the surprise, at least to me, since Ludwig's cocktails had been all I'd heard about.

On a couple of recent visits, the plates that chef Ben Bettinger, from Paley's Place and the James John Cafe, was throwing down were pretty much outstanding, the Mac & Cheese with blood sausage (top) being a must-have dish.

The smoked trout deviled eggs could have had more punch, but the grilled corn with roasted poblano aioli and grated cheese was to die for. Prices are extremely reasonable for food this good, and from all reports the scene here is already rocking.

Details: Beaker & Flask, 727 SE Washington St. Phone 503-235-8180.

Tomato Fever

Everybody's got the fever
That is somethin' you all know
Fever isn't such a new thing
Fever started long ago

- You Give Me Fever by Peggy Lee

Everybody's got their own favorite season for foods, whether it's meat braising on the stove, promising warmth and comfort after a day skiing in perfect powder or a pile of fresh fava beans in the spring, simply dressed with olive oil, mint and a shower of salt.

For me it's tomatoes, particularly the first of the summer's heirloom varieties, that I long for every year. With names like Purple Cherokee, Green Zebra and French Carmello, there's nothing like their cool, sweet, acidic bite, eaten out of hand right off the vine, sliced in a myriad of salads or simply chopped and spooned onto toasted bread.

This salad is perfect as a side with grilled meats, or could also be used for topping crostini for a cool, refreshing appetizer. With some chunks of oiled and grilled bread mixed in it makes a great panzanella, and you could add cucumber as well. Any tomatoes will work, but a mix of colors and shapes make it tastier and more fun.

Tuscan Tomato White Bean Salad
Adapted from The Complete Cooking Light Cookbook and Read-N-Eat.com

2-3 c. diced tomatoes
1 tsp. salt
1 Tbsp. fresh lemon juice (about 1/2 lemon)
1/4 tsp. freshly ground black pepper
Pinch cayenne
4-6 small cloves garlic, minced
1/3 c. fresh basil, chopped
1/2 small red onion, finely chopped
1/4 c. extra-virgin olive oil
2 15-oz. cans (or 3 c.) cannellini beans, rinsed and drained

Combine ingredients in a large salad bow. Toss gently to combine. Best made about an hour ahead of time so the garlic and herb flavors will meld.

Farm Bulletin: Worries Flow Downhill

It's more than the vagaries of the weather that grey the hairs and wrinkle the brows of farmers in Oregon. It can also be the activities, however well-intentioned, of their neighbors, as Anthony Boutard of Ayers Creek Farm elucidates in his latest essay.

It was an interesting month in the Wapato Valley. We had been pumping water from an irrigation canal for the last nine years without a hitch. Last September, a blue-green algae bloom in the canal clogged the sand media filters we use to clean the water. It was late in the season when our water needs were lower and cool weather slowed down the growth, so we cleaned things up and hoped it was a fluke of nature. The bloom had followed a brief rainy period, and we surmised that the valley's grass seed and wheat farmers, seeing record high prices, had dumped extra urea on their fields to increase the protein and seed yield and that nitrogen had washed into the canal.

In May and June of this year, the filters were back in their old form and we set aside our nagging worries about algae, having plenty else to fret about. In late June, we noticed a drop in pressure one day and checked the filters. The algae was back, and with a vengeance. The blue green algae is filamentous and has a slime coating. It completely invades the sand, forming a gritty green jello and preventing water from passing through the filter. You can slice it with a knife. At that point, it takes two hours to free up and disinfect the sand.

The filamentous growth pattern of blue-green algae.

We have developed a fine appreciation for the population dynamics of blue-green algae. At night, the populations declined, and we had about three hours of pumping time after sunrise before the population became unmanageable. Cloudy days extended the time to five or six hours. Using a venturi-type injector, we added a shot of sodium hypochlorite every 45 minutes or so to keep things flowing. It was amazing to watch the canal water color green over the course of the morning. Normally, at this time of the year, we run the low pressure drip irrigation through a series of sets that takes about 72 hours pumping time a week. Three hours for seven days doesn't get us there and some crops have suffered as a result.

Anticipating more algae blooms in the future, we have installed a chlorination system. Disinfecting water is allowed under organic certification as long as the free chlorine does not exceed the safe drinking water level of 4 parts per million. The advantage of the chlorination system is that we will be controlling human and plant pathogens as well. On the other hand, chlorine gas is pretty nasty stuff, and it adds another layer of record-keeping. That said, gas has a better safety record than the 12.5% liquid bleach we have been using and it's easier to calibrate.

Agriculture in our valley has changed over the last decade. The hayfields that greeted us when we moved here have been planted to perennial ryegrass for seed production. In the valley bottom, hundreds of acres of onions were grown. Today there are no more onion fields, and sweet corn and beets grow there instead. Prune orchards and walnut plats have been uprooted and replaced with grass seed fields. Linn County, the self-proclaimed "Grass Seed Capitol of the World," has had problems with excess use of nitrogen and phosphorous on the grass seed fields, degrading the waterways. Now the problem has landed in our lap.

Top photo from algae.info. Microscopic close-up by Peter Parks.

Quick Take: '09 Oregon Brewers Festival

I really like beer. More specifically, I'm a woman who really likes beer. And while that may sound like a strange thing to say, there are still lots of women who don't, or who like their beer sweet and fruity (i.e. not tasting like beer) rather than dry, full-bodied and hoppy.

But when it comes to beer festivals, I defer to the wisdom of he-who-is-all-about-beer in this household, and that is my husband Dave. He estimates barbecue and smoker time in terms of how many beers it'll take to get the job done. Vacations? How many brewpubs are there in the area? The day my brother moved into a tiny apartment and asked us to store his kegerator in our basement will go down as one of the great moments in his life. And don't even get me started on how much he loves the beers brewed at Hopworks Urban Brewery. Suffice it to say that the words, "It's me or Christian's beers" will never cross my lips.

We've skipped the last couple of Oregon Brewers Festivals for various reasons, and Dave's regular beer buddy had to work that day, so I volunteered to accompany him with the thought that it might make a good blog post. We parked Chili on the east side of the river and walked across the bridge to the festival, where the crowd was starting to fill the tents where more than 80 craft breweries were pouring their beers.

About half the beers are in the pale-to-golden range, with another quarter dedicated to amber and the rest falling in the red, brown and black range. Dave had a few he'd heard about and wanted to try, though after a couple of pales he was ready to move on, as he said, "to the real beers." Here, in order, are the ones we tried:

• Organic Wild Salmon Pale Ale, Fish Brewing Co., Olympia, WA: Well-made (as are all these beers, so no need to repeat it each time) though unremarkable; a "lawn-mower beer."
• Clackamas Cream Ale, Fearless Brewing Co., Estacada, OR: The brewer asked two local homebrew clubs to submit examples of this style of beer for inspiration, and this crisp, light example was the result.
• Festivale, Terminal Gravity Brewing, Enterprise, OR: This one got the "Ooooh…that's good" rating right off the bat. (My man loves his big beers, all right.) At 8.3 ABV and an IBU of 73, this demands attention. The final word? "Pretty damn nice."
• Radiant Summer Ale, Ninkasi Brewing Co., Eugene, OR: "Very nice." Lots of malt but nice dryness from hops. When we couldn't fight our way back for seconds on the Festivale, this was his next choice.
• Big Eye IPA, Ballast Point Brewing, San Diego, CA: When Dave says an IPA is "not bad" (especially one brewed this far from the Northwest), that's a high compliment considering it's his favorite style of beer. Definitely worth drinking.
• India Red Ale (IRA), Double Mountain Brewery, Hood River, OR: "Really good." We've visited their taproom and it's well worth the drive to sample their excellent range of beers.
• Bitter Bitch, Astoria Brewing Co., Astoria, OR: This was a good beer but, as Dave said, it was "very bitter, more like an IPA" than a traditional English-style bitter. "Despite the name, it's pretty good."
• Organic Chocolate Stout, Bison Brewing Co., Berkeley, CA: One of the pleasures of going to these festivals is the chance to try beers you might not run across otherwise. "Good but not exciting" was the word on this one.

In Season NW: Market Roundup

There's just too much to talk about this time of year when it comes to markets. I can't imagine what it's going to be like next month when the real avalanche of fruits and vegetables starts to hit, making the profusion of July look like a wimpy little skiff of snow.

But we Oregonians are such drama queens, aren't we? It's either too cold, too hot, too wet, too dry, too dark or too bright. So my new resolution is to simply, in the words of Baba Ram Dass, "be here now" and enjoy what comes. And right now being here ain't bad, as this roundup of the past week's markets shows.

* * *

Eastbank Farmers' Market: Dennison Farms of Corvallis got the award for most colorful booth for its ten feet of orange, yellow and red tomatoes glowing in the afternoon sun. They were almost, but not quite, upstaged by the eye-popping yellow plums blushed with red in their green hallocks on a blue cloth. (Where are my sunglasses?) Just down aisle, the purple glow coming from the sheafs and tubs of lavender in Tanya Kern's Dancing Light Ranch booth was almost surreal, and stepping inside was like burying your nose in a lavender sachet. If fresh lavender wasn't your thing, she also offered handmade soaps, oils and lotions. Thursdays, 3-7 pm; SE 20th & Salmon between Belmont and Hawthorne.

* * *

Interstate Farmers' Market: With universal health care in the headlines this week,it was only fitting to take a trip to this market, across the street and sponsored in part by Kaiser Permanente. I was ecstatic to find Hot Mama Salsa had landed here, having become addicted to Nikki Guerrero's chips, salsas and hot chili oil when she was at the Hillsdale market last year. Her sister will be filling in for for the time being, since Nikki had her baby last week. (Congratulations, Nikki!) And you could have lit a torch with Tim Lang's smile at the J. Gelati Italian Ice booth, he was so proud of his products made from fresh Oregon fruit. And the haricot verts and tiny zucchini and crookneck squashes with their blossoms still attached were selling like hotcakes at the Radical Pastures booth run by mother-daughter team Rowena and Lily Owen (left). A quick roll in egg white batter (whipped egg whites folded into the yolks mixed with a little flour) when I got home and a few minutes frying in hot oil and those squash were ready to eat. The result? Dave and Mr. B. are asking when we'll have them again! Wednesdays, 3-7 pm; 3550 N. Interstate Ave.

* * *

Ecotrust Farmers' Market: As promised, Baird Family Orchards was stocked to the brim with the first of the season's peaches (top photo), Bill "Call me Mr. Peach" was passing out samples and shoppers were filling bags with the richly perfumed beauties. The stunning (and reasonably priced) bouquets from Lucky Farms Flowers (left), with their unusual combinations of lilies, eucalyptus, crocosmia, dahlias and mums, were drawing stares from passersby. And the warm afternoon required a stop at Catherine Myers' Fresh Juices and Delectables booth for a fresh limeade, though I was tempted to get one of the cups of sliced watermelon carried by several market-goers (right). Like I said, this time of year is all about choices! Thursdays, 3:30-7:30 pm; outside the Jean Vollum Natural Capital Center on NW 10th between Irving and Johnson.

Dairy Report: Feeling Good (and a Quiz)!

Many of us have fantasies about owning a little café or having a farm, and this week Lisa Jacobs of Jacobs Creamery shares some of the realities of starting her own dairy business. One new venture is going to be a delivery service for her products, beginning with the Hood River, White Salmon, Lake Oswego and Milwaukie areas. If you're interested, you can e-mail her and let her know.

I woke up the other day and said "Hell, yeah!" The sun was out, my walk-in was full, my muscles were really sore and I thought, "Wow! Life is good!"

Challenge #191: Making cheese in 90° weather. Oh my, what not fun the cheese room was this week! So you can imagine that I am greatly looking forward to the soaring temperature next Monday. Not.

Since I don't have any time for real dates, I like to call the hour after I have hooped and pressed my cheese my "dates with Henry." Henry is my cheese vat. Dates with Henry are very hot, usually between 135-165°. This week I averaged about a 1 lb. weight loss with each date, but we are still "seeing each other." As I sent product down to (the farmers' market in) Cannon Beach last Tuesday and headed back into the cheese room for the third day, I thought that doing a triathlon might actually be easier than running six markets and producing all my products in a three day time span.

One of my college professors spotted me at my booth this last week and her comment was, "Oh, its so great that you do this! I'm sure it's nice to get out of the office." She was so certain that I would be practicing law by now that she figured it was a weekend job of some sort. It made me ponder what on earth I would do if I wasn't making cheese. I suppose with my expert cleaning ability and fleet of vehicles I could easily have a cleaning business or a moving company, but just thinking about it made me extremely thankful that I am able to do something I love and enjoy.

After several months, it's nice to finally get a routine down: walk-in full, walk-in empty, must make more cheese. And repeat.

Sadly, some of my cheese minions will be going back to school shortly, so I am looking for some additional help in the cheese room and markets. To help me weed through applicants, I created a quick little questionnaire. If you know someone that is a sparkly cheese enthusiast, have them fill it out and e-mail it to me.

1. How many tubs can you package, label, stack and crate in 2 minutes?
2. If you were tired and it was 1 a.m. and you saw a bit of curd on the wall in the cheese room would you: a) go to bed; b) get a sanitizing solution and start methodically cleaning the walls from top to bottom; c) not say anything but send me a text after you're far far away?
3. Do you believe in the five second rule?

Since my dairy babe twins have worked out so well, preference will be given to triplets and those with triathlon endurance levels, of course!

---

Newsflash: Lisa just informed me that she and her cheese will be featured on ABC's Good Morning America on Tuesday, Aug. 4, as part of a visit the show made to the farmers' market in Cannon Beach. Tune in if you can!

The Darling Dozen: Ready to Fly?

It's almost like they do it on purpose just to make you feel old. You get together with friends you haven't seen for awhile. You ask about their kids and they start hauling out pictures (or their iPhones), regaling you with stories about taking Bobby Sue and Jimmy Joe to visit colleges. And you think, "Wasn't this the kid who was just starting grade school a couple of years ago?"

It's like that with this litter of puppies. It seems like only a couple of weeks ago they were little wiggly things the size of a large cigar. Then today I visit and find myself suddenly surrounded by a dozen fat little bears all eager to lick my face and gnaw on my exposed feet (a dicey proposition unless you feel like giving them their first taste of blood).

At seven weeks their ears are going up and down like elevators, though some have definitely taken a stand. They're all spoken for, some going to "show homes" and some to "pet homes" but all of them thoroughly vetted. (I checked credentials…after all, I am their Auntie.)

But even though it made me feel like time is flitting by, I can't seem to stay away. And by the end of next week most of them will have flown the coop.

Travels with Chili: Happy, Sad, Happy, Part Two

It could all have gone very wrong. Especially since I'd waited till the last minute to make arrangements. And I'm not talking about scattering my parents' ashes. We knew exactly what we needed to do there because my mother had issued strict orders. Which, being the dutiful but still "You're not the boss of me!" types that we are, we pretty-nearly-almost followed to the letter.

The aptly named Safe Harbor.

We'd agreed on the date weeks before, but I hadn't made a reservation for a place for the seven of us and two dogs to stay. At the beach. On a sunny summer weekend. Get the picture?

Fortunately, while perusing Craigslist, I'd run across a rental agency that had several properties just south of Gleneden Beach. A phone call put me in touch with Lisa at the office of Bella Beach Vacation Rentals, who sent links to several of their rental properties in the development, a sort of Levittown-by-the-sea type of place. One, a three bedroom charmer called Safe Harbor, slept seven, would accept our two dogs and was perfect for our needs.

India Pelican Ale at the Pelican Pub.

The first night was a blur of cocktails, wine, steaks and reminiscing. The next day everyone else headed back to town, leaving us to a long walk on the beach and some shopping in Newport's Nye Beach area (a stop at my mom's favorite clothing shop, Toujours, was mandatory). Dave had hoped to have a beer at Sea Towne Pub, home of Steve Wilson's SKW Brewing. Wilson, the former cellar master from Newport's Rogue Brewing, had opened it fairly recently and we'd heard good things about his beers, but they were closed on Sundays.

Pelican Pub's excellent fish'n'chips.

But in Oregon you're never far from a freshly brewed beer, so we decided to hit the Pelican Pub & Brewery in Pacific City for an early dinner (Chili on the beach outside the pub, top photo). Their beers are truly great, their fish and chips are very good, but the real reason to go is the view out the windows. Sitting right on the beach, with water lapping the sand just yards from the door and overlooking the rocky outcroppings off Cape Kiwanda, this is the place to quaff a pint at sunset.

With a pint of Doryman's Dark for Dave and their India Pelican Ale (IPA, get it?) for me, it was the perfect grace note to end our weekend of sweet release.

Travels with Chili: Happy, Sad, Happy, Part One

It was bound to be a mixed bag. On the one hand, we were setting sail on our inaugural voyage on the good ship Chili, a trip to the Oregon coast on a weekend guaranteed to have good weather (photo above), a rare occurrence all by itself.

Wedding day, 1953.

On the other hand, the trip had a purpose to it, one that had taken more than a year to arrange, and that was to scatter my parents' ashes in the ocean off Gleneden Beach. Fortunately for my brothers and me, my mother had been very specific in her charge before she passed away.

Dad in the Navy, mid-1940s.

An inveterate rockhound and shell collector, she wanted us to take all the agates, shells and other rocks she'd collected in the years they'd lived at the beach, including her precious collection of heart-shaped rocks, and toss them back into the sea, with the idea that her grandchildren might someday pick up some of the same rocks she'd found there. (Yes, she was quite a romantic.) Then we were to take her and my father's ashes, mix them together and scatter them on the waves.

Mom on her graduation from OSU, late 1940s.

So low tide on Saturday afternoon found eight of us gathered on the shore in the bright sunshine, hurling handfuls of rocks out to sea (without beaning each other or putting out a single eye, mind you), then taking turns pouring the ashes into the waves as they rushed out into that very big ocean, crying and waving and yelling our farewells.

Read Happy, Sad, Happy, Part Two.

They're (Almost) Here!

Can you hear that? Like a stampede or an approaching storm or a train coming down the tracks, overlaid with that squeaky stretching noise a balloon makes as it inflates.

It's the sound of tomatoes ripening in gardens all over the city, a deluge that will soon flood our kitchens and tables, prompting a frenzy of chopping and stewing and drying and canning to preserve the summer they contain.

They're not only visible on the bushes in our garden, which are growing exponentially in this heat, but are also starting to show up at area farmers' markets in colors ranging from yellow to orange to purple to red, in stripes, dots and blushes. I picked up three nice-sized ones and brought them home, their sweet tomatoey scent perfuming the whole kitchen.

An heirloom tomato salad was the original plan, to be served alongside one of the staples of our quickie dinner repertoire, pasta with Italian sausage. I'd chopped the tomatoes and tossed them with basil leaves, dressed only with olive oil and a sprinkling of kosher salt. I'd fried the sausage with garlic, tossing in arugula at the last minute to wilt it. Then, almost without thinking, I dumped the contents of the salad bowl over the pasta. Call it a happy accident or a stroke of genius (my preferred term, of course), but this is a one-dish meal that we'll be seeing a lot of this summer.

Pasta with Warm Tomato Salad

1 lb. penne pasta (or other extruded shape)
1 lb. sweet Italian sausage
1 Tbsp. chopped garlic
1 bunch arugula
3 large heirloom tomatoes, preferably different colors
1/2 c. basil leaves, torn in bite-sized pieces
Olive oil
Salt, to taste
Pepper, to taste
Parmesan, grated

Bring a large pot of water to boil. While it heats, brown sausage in frying pan, breaking into small chunks. Add garlic and saute till sausage is cooked through. Chop tomatoes into 1/2" cubes and put in medium mixing bowl, combining with basil. Add olive oil to moisten and salt to taste. When water comes to a boil, cook pasta till al dente and drain, then place in serving bowl. Add arugula to sausage, stirring it until wilted. Add it to pasta and mix slightly, then top with tomato salad. Sprinkle with more salt, freshly ground pepper and grated parmesan, serving more parmesan alongside.

Light Lunch

Lunch is to budget foodies as Goodwill is to penny-pinching fashionistas. If I want to try out a high-end place before plunking down serious cash for an evening out, I'll gravitate toward those that offer a down-sized (and lower priced) sampling of their menus at mid-day.

Always wanted to go to Nostrana but can't scrounge enough out of the sofa cushions for dinner? Or heard about the fabulous shoestring fries at Café Castagna but the full meal deal is out of range? Try lunch at either. Seriously. You'll spend a fraction of what dinner would cost and get a good idea of what the kitchen is capable of. Plus who orders a whole bottle of wine with lunch, much less a cocktail? Again, savings in the bank.

If there's one spot in Portland that has garnered endless gibbering in the local press since it opened, it's Andy Ricker's love song to Thai street food, Pok Pok. And lunch is the ticket here as well. Same fascinating food, somewhat lower prices, and you're not obligated to try everything on the menu.

I went with a friend the other day and ordered the Tam Kai Yaang (top photo), a mellifluous-sounding and flavor-packed melange of roasted game hen with long beans, tomatoes, peanuts, Chinese celery, cilantro, Thai chiles, garlic, lime, palm sugar and fish sauce for $9.50. And the Yam Makheua Yao (left), another salad that featured smoky grilled Chinese eggplant with fried dry shrimp and garlic, chopped boiled egg, Thai chiles, shallots, cilantro and a lime-fish sauce dressing, priced at $9. Smashing.

Now, you might well ask, "Two salads with similar ingredients?" and you would not be out of line. But in this kitchen, the sum of the parts do not mean the same tastes emerge in the final preparation.

A side of sticky rice and our lunch was still light. In more ways than one.

Details: Pok Pok, 3226 SE Division. Phone 503-232-1387.

Farewell to Frikeh: A Way Forward for Oregon

Looking at how other states differentiate between industrial food production and that done by farmers who sell directly to the public, Anthony Boutard of Ayers Creek Farms sees a more equitable way forward for Oregon. You can find Anthony and Carol at the Hillsdale Farmers' Market every Sunday from 10 am till 2 pm.

In the first installment of "Farewell to Frikeh," we noted that the Oregon Department of Agriculture (ODA) defines "food processing" as 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 such a food in a container." While this long recitation certainly includes all activities that happen in food processing factories, the definition also covers many traditional farm activities that fall well short of what we consider processing foods. Under a strict interpretation of ODA's rules, all of the activities identified above must take place within a licensed facility.

Because frikeh (top photo) involves heating and drying, ODA calls it a "processed food." Like many other traditional foods, including raisins, sundried tomatoes, dried peppers and herbs, frikeh is prepared outside in the field, and not in a factory. Under ODA's scheme, if a "processed food" is not produced in a licensed facility, the agency prohibits the sale of the food. If California took such a view of food processing, we would have neither raisins, nor domestic sun dried tomatoes and peppers. Most raisins, for example, are dried on kraft paper trays set out on the vineyard floor. Some of the newer varieties are dried as clusters attached to the trellis, but still outdoors.

After learning of Oregon's approach to regulating food, we decided to see how other states regulate small operations such as ours. What is immediately striking about Oregon is the lack of any stated policy regarding farmers markets or community supported agriculture (CSA) in either the statutes or rules. Although farmers' markets and CSA's have strong support among Oregonians, that support has not translated into written policies concerning direct sales. As a result, ODA's default position is to consider farmers' markets the same as retail stores. And when farmers stray from the narrow category of fresh fruits and vegetables, they are treated as food processors. It is as if everyone, from a bicyclist to a heavy truck driver, must get the same Commercial Drivers License (CDL). No distinction is made between farm based enterprises and multinational corporations. In fact, ODA has been adamant that no distinction should be made.

Many states, perhaps a majority, have adopted what is the regulatory equivalent to a bike lane for farms that sell directly to the public. In Ohio, the state has a category called "Cottage Food Production Operation." Farms are allowed to produce and sell a clearly defined range of nonhazardous foods, including sorghum and maple syrup, various baked goods, jams and jellies, candy, fruit butter, dried herbs. Kentucky and Iowa similarly allow farms to produce a range of nonhazardous foods without a processing license. Kentucky also has a "Homebased Micro-Processor" certification which allows greater latitude in pressure canning low acid foods.

In 2004, Minnesota passed the "Pickle Bill" which allows Minnesotans to make and sell their famous vegetable pickles without a processing license. Last month, the Indiana legislature passed a law that allows market vendors and roadside stands to make and sell nonhazardous foods made at home. New York, Maine, Vermont, Connecticut and Massachusetts also have a separate tier for farm-based food production.

A couple of decades ago, Oregon's farmers sold virtually all of their production to food processors. The previous owners of our farm, for example, had contracts with Agripac (sweet corn), Steinfeld's (cucumbers), Smuckers (strawberries) and Cascadian Farm (blackberries). Today, three of those companies are no longer doing business in the Willamette Valley, and Cascadian Farm has but a few Oregon growers left.

New types of farm operations have arisen in the decades since the current statutes, definitions and rules were drafted. Over the last decade, new farmers have had little choice but to find new ways to sell their food, including directly to the public at farmers' markets and CSA's. We need to update the statutes and rules to reflect farming's future, not just its past. At Ayers Creek, we have been making wonderful raisins for our own consumption and we might even have our first run of sorghum syrup this year. Under the current rules, we are prohibited from selling these unadulterated and wholesome foods.

Our hope is that Oregon will take a closer look at states that have adopted less onerous approaches to increasing family farm income. A more realistic set of rules defining and regulating "food processing" as it is applied to farm operations will provide many benefits to farmers and consumers. Will loosening requirements for farm-based food production create a food safety issue? No. The "Pickle Bill" did not create a mass die-off of farmers' market customers in Minnesota.

The food industry is where the problem lies, not the family farm. The reality remains that, in states with progressive views on farm-based food production, food borne illnesses have not been an issue at farmers' markets or with CSA's. Farmers eat the food they produce and there is no chain of custody to track. Squadrons of food inspectors and a myriad of properly filled out forms and licenses cannot replace the simplicity of a direct sale when it comes to food safety and quality. In fact, if you read the ingredients for a jar of conventional, mass-produced pickles, you will understand why they have to be licensed.

In Part III of this series, we will discuss the various ways to improve the rules governing food production in Oregon. Up to now, those rules in Oregon have been shaped the industry, not consumers. That has to change. Consumers need to participate in governing how food is produced in Oregon.

Travels with Chili: The Journey Begins

Trumpets sounded, the crowd roared, a dog barked, clouds parted and, oh yeah, a baby cried. Y'know, the usual harbingers of a siginificant event in literature. In a workplace, a memo would have gone out and, befitting its importance, coffee and donuts would have been served in the conference room.

In this case, we drove up to the house, parked, and pretty soon the neighbors started gathering, oohing and ahhing, opening doors and (if you're Mace, anyway) pushing buttons. Everyone had to sit in the driver's seat, watch the sunroof(s) slide back and forth, and close their eyes and breath in the new car smell.

Pretty soon beer was being poured, wine bottles opened and a block party erupted that lasted into the late evening as kids played race car in the front seat , complete with "vroom vroom" sound effects. All of it a good sign of adventures sure to come.

Introducing: Chili.