Great Gifting: Book by Book

It's not too early to start thinking about the holidays, about the food you're going to serve and the gifts you're going to give. I've sworn off gifts that require displaying or dusting, preferring instead to give items that are 1) consumable or 2) useful in some way. And books rank high on my list of useful items, especially cookbooks. There are two that I'm not only planning to give but would also love to get, one brand new from a favorite author and the other a classic that is a must-have for anyone interesting in cooking.

I've been an admirer of Diana Kennedy's work for a long time, and I have several of her what are not so much cookbooks as anthropological explorations of the complex cuisines of Mexico. She writes to document and preserve this under-appreciated and ancient corner of the food world, so I was very excited to hear that her newest book, "Oaxaca al Gusto: An Infinite Gastronomy,"had just been released. At 450-plus pages and weighing nearly seven pounds, it's a thorough and engaging examination of the region through its food. Kennedy, now 87, is said to be as vital and active as ever. She moved to Mexico with her husband, Paul Kennedy, a writer for the New York Times, in 1957, and published her first book, "The Cuisines of Mexico,"in 1972.

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I had the good fortune to see Paul Bertolli this last weekend. Twice. The first was at Foster & Dobbs, my source for cheesy goodness, laughter and great lunches. Oh, and the Spanish anchovy-stuffed olives that are a requirement for martinis here at the homestead. But I digress. The second was at Provvista's annual Open House the next day, an extravaganza of good food that gathers their best suppliers and some of the best food vendors in the city, along with a who's who of Portland's food culture for a five-hour marathon of snacking and schmoozing. Bertolli was there with his crew from Fra' Mani, passing out samples of their extraordinary cured meats to the slavering mobs, but he spent several minutes casually shooting the bull with me in the middle of the whole thing. World-famous author, charcutier and Chez Panisse alum he may be, but he's a total sweetheart of a guy, approachable and casual. And it's his book, "Cooking by Hand,"that's going on my gotta-give-it list. "With stimulating essays on everything from gathering wild mushrooms and types of pasta flour to a 14-page section on the wonders of balsamic vinegar, Bertolli is nothing less than a pied piper for the Italian kitchen," according to Publsihers Weekly. Having had his food and talked with the man himself, I don't doubt a word.

Check out other suggestions in the series: Classic Design, Giving From the Heart, Not Dead Yet! (food magazines you'll love) and Class Acts.

Fritterizing With Your Produce

My neighbor and contributor Jim Dixon is a dedicated fritterer. No, he doesn't waste hours of his day on Twitter or Facebook like I do. His time is spent frying up little cakes in oil, made from anything that comes from his (vast) garden. I'm pleased to say he's also started a blog of his own at Real Good Food that will have some of his (excellent) restaurant reviews and more recipes, so check it out!

A friend who’s grown a lot of tomatoes says it’s time to pick any still on your vines. Let them ripen inside for the next couple of weeks, make sauce, or roast and freeze for the winter. I’ll be harvesting my ironically named Early Girls in October.

Roasted Tomato Fritters

I had some of those roasted tomatoes left over from last week, and since I believe that you can make almost anything better through fritterizing, that’s what I did.

Combine several coarsely chopped roasted tomatoes (about a cup’s worth) with an egg, diced shallot, good sized dollop of ricotta, a pinch of sea salt, and maybe a half cup of breadcrumbs, enough to absorb most of the moisture in the mix.

Use a couple of soup spoons to form walnut-sized lumps that you drop into a thin layer of hot olive oil. Cook over medium high for a few minutes, then gently flip and cook a bit longer until lightly browned on both sides.

Livin' in the Blurbs: Crazy Weekend!

It's Friday, and normally I'd be heaving a big sigh of relief because, even as a freelancer, weekends mean there's a schedule change. Dave comes home from work on Friday and, unless we have plans with friends, makes us one of his stunningly fabulous cocktails, whereupon we sit on the front porch and drink in front of the neighbors (who get really jealous). But this weekend is looking particularly packed.

Saturday has three events:

• First is the Art Harvest Studio Tour of Yamhill County artists (11 am-6 pm, Oct. 1-3 and 8-10). My first stop will be my friend Clare's Big Table Farm where she'll be showing her artwork (top) and doing farm tours. Get a preview of a few of her paintings.
• I'll dash back to town and head to Foster & Dobbs to sit at the feet of Mr. Paul Bertolli, where he will be handing out samples of his amazing cured meats from 3:30 to 4:30. Try not to trip over me in your rush! (Read why I'm behaving like a lovestruck teenager.)
• Winding up the day is a friend's birthday party which is looking like a lollapalooza of a pork fest, with 12.5 lbs. of pork shoulder being turned into a 7.5 lb. bone-in pernil and 5 lbs. of pork vindaloo. And, yes, I promise I'll take pictures.

Sunday has just two obligations:

• Portland's biggest not-so-secret food event happens at Provvista Specialty Foods when they host their annual trade tasting from 11 am to 4 pm. It's for suppliers and account-holders only, but if you know one of those lucky few and can convince them to take pity on you, you can slide in on their coattails.
• Then later than afternoon, Anthony and Carol Boutard are hosting their annual Farm Ramble at Ayers Creek Farm from 3 to 6 pm. Anthony promises "a chance to see how we grow the food you eat. We haven't had time to plow under our mistakes and failures for the season, so you will see what works and what doesn't." He also says that "there will be lots of traditional Lebanese turnip pickles because you all never buy enough turnips and we had a whole bunch over after last Sunday's market and, by gum, we want you fall in love with turnips and have a glum look on your face when we sell out of them." (There will be other light snacks as well.)

Shell Game

My first experience with shell beans was a disaster. I'd seen them in the store packaged in neat little bags labeled "cranberry beans," their irregular lipstick-pink spots dotting a slightly yellowish, waxy surface. I imagined braising them with some onions and garlic, something simple that would allow their flavor and texture to shine.

I brought them home, stuck them in the vegetable bin and, like so many impulsive purchases I've made in the past, promptly forgot about them. When I rediscovered them a month or so later when cleaning out the fridge, they were not a pretty sight, and I have to say that the shame of it put me off of them for some time.

Then the other night I had braised beans with roast chicken at Bar Avignon, and it was so simple and such a terrific combination it made me want to venture into shell bean territory again. I picked up a bag of soldier beans from Anthony and Carol at the Hillsdale farmers' market the next Sunday, bought some sausages at the store and stuck a post-it note to my forehead labeled "BEANS" so I wouldn't forget. (Well, not really, but I did leave them on the counter just to make sure.)

With some of the last tomatoes and a few leaves of kale from the garden, this easy braise took a little over a half hour to cook and was totally company-worthy. Leave out the sausages and it would be a great side or vegetarian main dish if you throw in some oregano or fresh basil leaves to pump up the flavor quotient. The sausages, of course, could be sweet Italian or any type you choose, but I'd say the simpler the better. Though browning them on the stove then letting them cook with the beans, rather than grilling and adding them at the end, let their juices seep into the stew and took it to a whole different level.

Shell Beans with Tomatoes and Sausages

2 lbs. sausages (I used brats)
2 Tbsp. olive oil
1 onion, chopped fine
4 cloves garlic, chopped fine
4 large tomatoes, roughly chopped
4-5 leaves lacinato or other kale, cut in 1/4" slices
1 lb. shell beans
Salt to taste

Heat cast iron skillet over medium flame until fairly hot. Add sausages (in batches if necessary), allowing the surface to get a nice sear but not cooking them through. Set aside.

In Dutch oven, heat the oil and add onion and garlic and sauté till translucent. Add tomatoes and simmer till they start to break down, then add kale, beans and sausages. Bring back to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer for about a half hour or until sausages are cooked through and beans are tender but not mushy. Add salt to taste.

Dumplings of Joy

My brother pretty much summed it up in a post about his first experience with soup dumplings in Shanghai: "As nice a husband as I am, if it came down to survival and that last xiao long bao could get one of us off the desert island alive, [my wife] may have regretted her marital choice. I'm talking not just dumplings here. I'm talking barely held together bundles of translucent doughy joy, filled with a dab of meat gelatin which melts upon steaming."

Since reading that I've had a serious longing, verging on jonesing, for one of those dumplings. I've had a few that came close to the transcendent experience I imagined, but they always somehow fell short. At one food cart, the soup had leaked out of several of them. At another place, the dough was too thick, and at a third the filling was a tasteless lump of some meat-like substance.

But today, today I finally had that experience I'd been waiting for, a xiao long bao worth singing about, and certainly worth going back for in the very near future.

Handmade noodles with beef.

I'd heard that Frank Fong, long famous for his handmade noodles at Du Kuh Bee in Beaverton, had recently taken over the late, unlamented location of Eagle Thai on NE Broadway. Retooling the interior and rechristening it Frank's Noodle House, he's featuring many of the Korean and Chinese dishes he was known for in Beaverton and adding a few new twists to the offerings.

I hope to explore more of his handmade noodle offerings on future trips, but at our lunch there my friend Ivy and I ordered two of his noodle dishes, which were toothsomely appealing, as well as a crispy-skinned fried mackerel that may well turn out to be another dish that will draw me back.

But I gotta tell you, it's those little dumplings of joy that are going to haunt my dreams for awhile. With enough structural integrity to contain the broth inside, the translucent wrapper is delicate enough to practically melt in your mouth when you bite into it. And the filling, a combination of tender ground pork and ribbons of greens, gives just enough heft to satisfy.

As my brother said after he had Frank's dumplings, "Mmmm-mmmmm."

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Update, 10/11/10: I talked with Frank today and he said that his dumplings are not classic xiaolongbao, but are boiled dumplings. Though his eyes lit up when I said that XLBs are almost impossible to find here, and there's a huge pent-up demand for them. So if you go in, you might mention it…just in case he can be convinced!

Details: Frank's Noodle House, 822 NE Broadway. 503-288-1007.

Think Global, Buy Local…in Hungary!

Buying local products, shopping at farmers' markets and supporting your community are ideas that are catching on here in Portland and also around the world. This video from Hungary, by way of my friend Linda Colwell and her friend Emese Ilyes, could (and maybe should) run here. And I really want to try some of Rózsika's sour cherry jam!

Infinite Sauce

Picked up 25 lbs. or so of soon-to-be-saucy goodness at Ayers Creek Farm on Sunday, and got Anthony and Carol's instructions on saving the tomato seeds for planting next year.

Saving Tomato Seeds

Pick a tomato that is especially handsome and delicious, a paragon of tomato perfection. Scoop out the seeds, leaving them in their mucilaginous goop, and plop them in a container with a tight-fitting lid. Leave it out on the counter for a week or 10 days to ferment (it will be completely disgusting). Scoop them out onto several layers of paper towels, roll them up and allow them to dry thoroughly. Making sure they're nice and dry, scrape off the seeds into a zip-lock bag. If you have a packet or capsule of desiccant left from a vitamin bottle, toss that in as well to absorb any residual moisture. Store in cool, dry place.

Social Experiment

My mother loved to entertain, and I remember many evenings reluctantly trudging upstairs to bed, falling asleep to the sound of vehement discussions and laughter floating up the stairs. One of her rules was that she never tried a new recipe out on her guests, preferring instead to stay with the tried and true.

Me, I think there's no better excuse to try something new than having folks over. I first tried out a new (to me) sauce called "pesto" on guests, and over the years there have been myriad salads, braised meats and desserts that were, for the most part, great successes. Though I have to admit there were a (very) few that, how shall I put it, will never be spoken of, or made, again.

So when my friend Peter invited us to bring an appetizer for dinner the other night, I mulled over the usual suspects…dips, wings, crostini/bruschetta, etc.…but nothing really clicked. Plus I really didn't want to make a trip to the store. So I looked around and took stock: tomatoes and kale in the garden, onions, garlic and parmesan in the pantry. Then I remembered a photo of an amazing tomato tart I'd seen on the cover of a cookbook, and the deal, as they say, was sealed.

Made with all sizes and colors of tomatoes, it fit perfectly with what I had on hand, though it would have been great with simple red tomatoes, too. The thin layer of sautéed kale and parmesan tucked underneath was just the right bass note for the bright treble of the fresh tomatoes. And the dinner that night, with great food, wine and friends laughing and talking, was one my mother would have loved. Even if I broke one of her rules.

Tomato, Kale and Parmesan Tart

For the crust:
1 1/4 c. flour
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 c. cold butter or margarine, cut into pieces
2-3 Tbsp. ice water

For the filling:
1 Tbsp. olive oil
1/2 onion, chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced
4-6 leaves lacinato (or black) kale, sliced into chiffonade
1/2 c. parmesan, grated fine
3-4 tomatoes, sliced in 1/4" thick slices (cherry tomatoes can be halved)

Preheat oven to 375°.

Put flour and salt in the bowls of a food processor and pulse to combine. Add pieces of butter and pulse until the texture of cornmeal. With processor running, drizzle in water until it comes together in the bowl. (I usually use 2 1/2 Tbsp. and it comes together well without being too wet.) Remove from bowl, adding in any stray bits, wrap in plastic and refrigerate at least 1/2 hour.

Roll out dough on floured surface to make 12" round. Transfer to 9" diameter tart pan with removable bottom. Trim edges, leaving 3/4" overhang. Fold overhang in to form double-thick sides. Press tart edges to raise dough 1/8" above pan. Chill in refrigerator for 30 min.

Add olive oil to non-stick skillet and heat until oil shimmers. Add chopped onion and garlic and sauté till golden, stirring frequently to avoid browning. Add kale chiffonade and sauté till wilted. Remove from heat and set aside.

Line crust with foil and bake until golden, about 20 min. Remove from oven and cool slightly. Scatter kale mixture over the bottom of the crust, then sprinkle with parmesan. Top with single layer of tomatoes, arranging randomly. Place in oven and bake for 40 min. or until crust is browned and tomatoes are cooked through. Let cool slightly and remove outer ring. Slide off bottom onto serving platter. Serve warm or at room temperature. (And I hear the leftovers are great for breakfast the next day.)

Doing the Wave

It's time for another episode of Shameful Kitchen Secrets, where I have to 'fess up to a transgression of the Ten Commandments for Foodies.

What is it this time, you ask?

The food gods have a special chair in a hot corner of foodie hell for those of us who use that appliance called a microwave. The mere mention of it in polite company has brought a gasp, with an accompanying look of consternation, from a dinner guest, as if I'd just admitted to letting the dogs lick the plates before setting the table.

I might be slapped lightly on the wrist and made to write "I promise not to use Satan's oven" 100 times if I only used it for heating the odd cup of lukewarm coffee or thawing the dogs' ground chicken when I forget to pull it out of the freezer in time for their dinner. But no, my sin is much greater, much more of the spend-eternity-cleaning-behind-the-oven-with-a-toothbrush kind of thing.

It is that…please don't be too shocked…I make risotto in the microwave.

There. I've said it. Are you still with me?

My excuse is that when I inherited the appliance from my mother, rather than taking it straight to Goodwill I made the mistake of plugging it in to see if it worked. And it did. Rather well. Plus I'd had a copy of Barbara Kafka's "Microwave Gourmet"moldering in the back of my cookbook shelf for years, and pulled it out to see what laughable wisdom she might have to impart. That's when I saw a section on risottos, one of my favorite comfort foods ever.

That Satan is a very sneaky character, no?

From there…well…from there it was a slippery slope to the chair in hell mentioned previously. The risotto turned out creamy with an ever-so-slight tooth to the rice, just like it should. And, while my brother would (and still does) disagree, I consider it a perfectly acceptable, not to mention quick and easy, alternative to the classic ladle stock, stir, ladle stock, stir ad infinitum method.

So now you know. I hope my confession has elicited pity more than condemnation. I do still make risotto the classic way when we have guests, since goodness knows I don't want them to know my dirty little secret and the damn dinging of the timer is a dead giveaway. But if you want to prove me wrong, to show me the error of my ways, I'm including a recipe below. Have fun (if you can handle the guilt)!

Spinach and Bacon Risotto

A couple of caveats about microwave cooking. Timing can vary depending on how powerful your oven is. It might be helpful to consult the book that came with your appliance for guidelines. My mother's oven is fairly old (mid-90s) but pretty powerful; experimentation is encouraged. Also, ingredients can vary widely…I've made a paella version with seafood and saffron and, god help me, it turned out great.

6 slices bacon, cut in 1" pieces
2 Tbsp. butter or margarine
2 Tbsp. olive oil
1 red or yellow onion, chopped fine
4 cloves garlic, minced
2 c. arborio rice
5 c. chicken stock (or 4 c. stock, 1 c. dry white wine)
1 bunch spinach, chopped
2 large tomatoes, chopped
1 1/2 c. parmesan, grated
Salt and pepper to taste

Sauté the bacon in a frying pan until the fat is rendered but it is still tender. Set aside.

Combine butter and oil in large microwave-safe bowl. Heat for 1 minute on high or until melted and quite warm. Stir in onion and garlic, coating with the butter and oil, and heat for 2 min. on high. Stir in the rice. Heat for 2 min. on high. Add the bacon, bacon fat, stock and wine (if using) and stir to combine. Heat for 10 min. on high. Add spinach and stir, cooking for another 10 minutes or until the rice has absorbed most of the stock but is still creamy. Add tomatoes and 1/2 c. of the parmesan and combine, adding salt and pepper to taste. Cook longer if it is still too soupy or add liquid if it is too dry…the rice should be very slightly al dente, not mushy. Serve with remaining parmesan.

My Dream Café

If contributor Jim Dixon of RealGoodFood opened a café, I'd eat there on a regular basis. The atmosphere would be convivial, with lots of conversation and laughter. The staff would be friendly yet professional, long-time servers who know (and enjoy) their customers and love food. And the ingredients would be first-rate, with Italian olive oils, grains and beans instinctively combined with the freshest seasonal produce to make simple, satisfying fare.

While I’m not really thrilled with the rain (September is usually Oregon’s best month, sunny warm days and cool evenings), it does mean more mushrooms. Some old friends have a cabin near Trout Lake, and they recently brought us a big bag of white chanterelles from the slopes of Mt. Adams.

Chanterelles and Corn

I cook mushrooms using the dry saute method from Dave Arora's "All That the Rain Promises and More,"a handy guide for funghi lovers. Chanterelles split naturally from top to bottom, so after washing and picking out the fir needles, I tear them into 3-4 pieces, then toss into a dry skillet over medium heat.

The mushrooms will quickly begin to give up their moisture. Watch them closely, and when most of the liquid has cooked off, drizzle with extra virgin olive oil and cook for a few more minutes. A sprinkle of flor de sal and they’re ready to eat.

With these white chanterelles, I splashed a bit of white wine into the skillet and added a chopped shallot along with the olive oil.

I’d also picked up a few ears of fresh corn  at the farmers market, and while I hadn’t meant to combine them with the mushrooms, serendipity brought them together.

I cut the kernels from the cobs, tossed them in a skillet with olive oil and salt, and roasted the corn until nicely browned. Both the roasted corn and chanterelles were served as side dishes, but I couldn’t stop mixing them on my plate. The sweet corn and umami-rich mushrooms seem made for each other. While we should have chanterelles around for at least a few more weeks, fresh corn will be over soon, so pick up a few ears and celebrate the last gasp of our crappy summer.

Top photo from Langdon Cook's Fat of the Land, a terrific blog about foraging in the Northwest.

R-Evoe-lutionary

Whether we get it from TV or restaurant chefs or glossy magazines, one of the Big Lies of our current food-obsessed age is that you can't prepare great food or, heaven help us, entertain if you have anything less than a gourmet kitchen costing tens (or hundreds) of thousands of dollars. That kitchen, of course, must be filled with gleaming stainless steel appliances, preferably restaurant-grade. (Think Viking 6-burner stove and Sub-Zero refrigerator.)

The pickle bar.

But all you have to do to turn off the smoke machine and clear the air is to drop into Evoe some early afternoon and take a seat at Kevin Gibson's prep table-cum-chef's bar. With little more than a sharp knife, a mandoline and the same exact non-stick plug-in griddle my mom made pancakes on for most of my childhood, he turns out what I consider some of the best food in the city. I mean, the guy had to beg to get a stove, for gosh sakes, and got a household-grade electric one for his trouble! (Forget gas or a fancy, much less any, hood.)

More padrons, please!

The other day when my son and I dropped in for lunch—I was using up the last of my Christmas coupon for three lunches, his treat—we waited for a seat and pounced when two opened up. (Could it have been my drooling on their shoulders that caused them to leave in such a hurry?) We ordered our usual deviled eggs, Kevin's breathtakingly mustard-infused version dipped in bread crumbs and fried on his griddle till warm and vaporous.

And since I hadn't yet had my fill of padron peppers this year, an order of those was de rigeur, and a huge pile of the blistered gems soon appeared before us. The best thing to do at Evoe is to order your next plate when one arrives, so on Kevin's advice we ordered the whole sea bream stuffed with minced fennel fronds and with an array of sautéed whole cherry tomatoes alongside.

Octopus salad.

As we munched our peppers, Kevin disappeared into the kitchen and emerged with a fish, which he slashed crosswise and showered with salt crystals while it came up to room temperature. Turning on a burner (electric, remember?) he put a pan on the stove to get it searingly hot and moved to the chopping block, mincing up the fennel stuffing. When it was safely stowed inside the fish, he put the fish into the pan for it to brown for a few minutes.

At some point between flipping the fish to sear the other side and putting it into the oven to finish cooking, he added a bunch of cherry tomatoes to the pan. And that's the other thing I love about this place: it's like getting a master-level cooking class for the price of lunch, my idea of the perfect noon-time activity.

The sea bream emerged moist on the inside with salty, crispy skin (top photo), and we took Kevin's advice and pried out the cheek and head meat, leaving little but bones and a couple of fins on the plate. To finish off in style we went for the octopus salad, a concoction of more cherry tomatoes and chilled octo lightly dressed with a simple vinaigrette.

So while Kevin's got more raw talent in his little fingernail than I'll ever achieve, it's instructive to watch someone make food magic with the most basic of kitchen appliances. Instructive and delicious.

Details: Evoe, 3731 S.E. Hawthorne Blvd. Phone 503-232-1010.

Farm Bulletin: Old McDonald Never Mentioned This

Cows, sheep, chickens…sure. Normal farm animals. Stretch a little and maybe you'll come up with birds, bees, bugs. Even coyotes or other predators. But contributor Anthony Boutard of Ayers Creek Farm in Gaston has noticed yet another creature that calls his farm home.

Moss Animals

Our trips to the irrigation pump are less frequent as temperatures moderate. We are starting to withhold water from the annual crops. For the berries, however, watering through September is critical so the primocanes, which will bear next year's crop, can put on as much growth as possible. Heavy canes bear better fruit. Winter crops like the cabbages, chicories and parsnips must also receive a good dose of water for good root development. When starting the pump, we watch the water carefully for any changes in quality.

This week, a new creature appeared near the pump station. A large moss animal, or Bryozoan, was drifting in water (top photo). A gelatinous mass about the size of a soccer ball, it is known to bryozoologists as Pectinatella magnifica (left, from Wikimedia). It is the largest of the 22 freshwater moss animals found in North America. Most are delicate creatures that go unnoticed by all but a handful of dedicated professionals. Pectinatella is hard to ignore, and brought us back to invertebrate zoology class.

The bryozoans are invertebrate animals with a nervous system and a gut, and in the same general evolutionary branch as sea urchins and lamp shells. They feed on bacteria and algae using feathery tentacles reminiscent of corals. Like corals, they are colonial animals, and the large mass drifting in our irrigation channel is actually a colony of individuals that are fused together in the gelatinous matrix. Ambling along the bank, we saw several other colonies ranging in size from a softball to a medicine ball. They need warm, clean water. As the water temperature drops below 60 degrees (15 C), the colonies will die. The species carries on by producing a resting stage called a statoblast, and next year these will grow into new colonies.

Most of 4,000 or so bryozoans are marine animals, and attach themselves to rocks, piers and ship hulls. Of the many animal orders covered in invertebrate biology class, we would nominate a bryozoan as an unlikely resident of a Willamette Valley farm. Obviously, we weren't paying attention to the mention of 50 freshwater species separated into the Class Phylactolaemata, and their preference for clean, still waters.

Water is every farmer's vulnerability. We fret constantly about the supply, delivery and quality. Seeing this stately creature drifting slowly in the water, with its ancestry stretching back 450-million years to the Ordovician Period, provided a comforting benediction on the irrigation ditch.

Get Thee To the Market!

The blessing (or silver lining, if you will) of this cooler NW summer is that the month of September has never looked better at Oregon farmers' markets, and October looks to be just as bountiful. Peppers of all shapes, colors and flavors are piled high on tables (Philomath's Gathering Together Farm being just one example, above), luscious heirloom tomatoes will be available for several more weeks and squash from small delicatas to large Cinderellas will soon be making an appearance.

And no matter the day of the week, you'll find a farmers' market open in the metro area with several to choose from on most days. A complete schedule with maps and links of Willamette Valley markets, including the 40 or so in the metro area is available here, so make plans to get out and get yours while the getting's good!

Livin' in the Blurbs: Celebrities and Class Acts

When my semi-regular bulletin came in from Luan at Foster & Dobbs, one of the city's best cheese shops squirreled away in NE Portland's Irvington neighborhood, I was floored. There, buried amid a plethora of can't-miss wine tastings, book signings and classes, were two names that sang out. One was Paul Bertolli (left), charcutier extraordinaire and the progenitor of the art of cured meat in America (no big salami jokes, please). The other was Zoe Brickley, the cave maven and "superstar affineur" of that center of all things cheesy and good known as Murray's in New York City. They'll both be at F&D in early October, and I urge you to get yourself in there for one or both sessions.

• Cheese Science for the Enthusiast with Zoe Brickley of Murray's discussing cheese basics with samples of the cheeses included. Fri., Oct. 1, 7:15 pm; $25, reservations required.
• Fra' Mani Handcrafted Salumi with Paul Bertolli, who will be on hand to share tastes and chat about his succulent cured meats. Sat., Oct. 2, 2:30-4:30 pm; free.

Details: Foster & Dobbs Authentic Foods, 2518 NE 15th Ave. Phone 503-284-1157.

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The arrival of fall—and don't tell me you haven't been pulling up the comforter the last few nights—means that new class schedules have been jamming up in-boxes all around the Northwest. One of the most unusual schedules is from SweetWares, the baking supply shop-cum-cooking school in Hillsdale. From Indian curries to challah to Mexican Day of the Dead sugar skulls (I kid you not), they've got a great lineup of reasonably priced hands-on classes coming in the next couple of months.

• Big, Fat, Tall, Luscious Layer Cakes with Melissa Carey Ragland. Thurs., Sept. 23, 1-4 pm; $75 with preregistration.
• Day of the Dead Sugar Skulls with Andrea Nicholas of SweetPerennial Sugar Flower Boutique. Sat., Oct. 2, 10-11:30 am; $40 with preregistration
• Decorating Your Fall Baked Goods with Chocolate Transfers with former Baker & Spice cake whiz and Sugarhouse Cake owner, Erin Fale. Sat., Oct. 23, 10-11 am; $45 with preregistration.

Details: SweetWares, 6306 SW Capitol Hwy. in the Hillsdale Shopping Center. Phone 503-546-3737.

* * *

And the final class act in this list is my brother, Bruce, the proprietor of Sellwood wine shop Vino and the always-insightful, pomposity-popping author of the blog Eat. Drink. Think. He's moving the shop (details here) to SE 28th, involving a month-long hiatus, meaning I'll be looking forward to reading many more posts on the blog (since he'll have all that time on his hands), yet I'll be missing his hilarious and pointed weekly tasting notices that never fail to stray from the matter at hand. From his final tasting notice: "The hardest part of this move and the ensuing closure is knowing that I will miss commenting each Friday on the next election cycle and all the juicy bits that entails. The myopians who are Tea Party candidates alone provide a full buffet of opportunity. Any political party who elects a bill-evading deadbeat like Christine O’Donnell in Delaware deserves every bit of ridicule they incur. Even Karl Rove called her out, saying "there were a lot of nutty things she has been saying that just simply don't add up." Look for a Big Sale on Saturday, Sept. 18, as he depletes his stock, the better to fill up the new shop with fresh deals!

Details: Vino, 1226 SE Lexington in Sellwood. Phone 503-235-8545.

Aw, Shucks!

My neighbor Ivy showed up on my front porch a few weeks ago and said I absolutely had to enter a contest to win a scholarship to a prestigious writing symposium in West Virginia. And the deadline was the next day. Oh.

The Greenbrier.

But the entry form was short, they only wanted two stories and the chance at a trip sounded kinda fun. In doing some research I found out that the Greenbrier Symposium for Professional Food Writers has been around since 1989, and is considered one of the best gatherings in the country for food writers, with a deep panel of speakers and mucho opportunity for networking. So I sent in my entry the next day, got back a confirmation and pretty much forgot about it.

The notification date for winners came and went without a word, so I figured I hadn't won. Oh well.

Then a few days later I got an e-mail telling me that I'd won a Special Mention for a brand new award, the "James Patrick McDermott 'Place at the Table' Scholarship for Social Change through Food Writing." While it didn't come with any money attached, and I couldn't afford to go without it (it's a couple of thousand bucks not counting airfare), I was thrilled to have placed in the competition, especially in that category.

Out of the 114 individual entries, the message from Antonia Allegra, founder of the symposium, said, "the judges LOVED your writing, Kathleen, particularly the Hmong cookbook story! [Both] your stories scored high throughout the judging, which was done by 7 highly skilled judges. I’m so glad you have received this recognition that says you are a fine writer."

Wow!

Oh, and Ivy won the Chronicle Books Scholarship for Recipe Writing and is there right now, taking it all in. Congrats, Ivy, and thanks for encouraging me to get off my lazy arse and enter!

Fantastic Fungus

Picture this: a sauce that's as black as black bean soup, with an earthy aroma wafting up from it that's part truffle, part corn. It can be chunky or smooth. And, like mushrooms, it has that quality of umami that brings out the flavors of anything its served with, whether cheese, meat or vegetables.

In Mexican cuisine it's called huitlacoche and is a prized delicacy, especially when fresh.

Here in America, however, it's called corn smut or corn blight and has been targeted by the USDA as a disease of the corn plant that must be eradicated. Thus it is very hard to find in it's fresh state. And you know it's trouble when even an organization as revered as the James Beard Foundation, which hosted an all-huitlacoche dinner in 1989, couldn't raise the fungus's status. Sigh.

I'd had chunks of it in empanadas and as a smooth black sauce on steak when we were in Mazatlan a few years ago, but hadn't run across any since. So when I heard that my friend Kathryn LaSusa Yeomans of The Farmer's Feast had managed to cadge some from a local farmer who was wise enough not to plow under his field when he discovered it, I had to have some.

At the Portland Farmers' Market in Pioneer Courthouse Square on Monday she was spooning it into a steaming bowl of mushroom corn chowder. She had me taste the chowder alone, a lovely, rich broth with fresh corn and sliced mushrooms, perfectly fine by itself. But with just a small spoonful of the huitlacoche it was transformed into a blast of flavors, each one bigger and richer than it was by itself. Wow!

We can only hope that some enterprising farmer will take the smut challenge and realize that a field of huitlacoche will bring chefs and their customers flocking and throwing cash in his or her direction. Anyone willing to take this one on?

Market Report: Southern Accent

The end of summer and early fall is when we here in the Northwest start seeing crops at the farmers' markets that require lots of sun to mature. It's hard to believe, but a few local growers have actually managed to get okra to grow here, along with the peppers that are so much a part of Southern cuisine. Contributor Jim Dixon of RealGoodFood shares a recipe he collected on his trip to New Orleans last year.

When we ate at Cochon in New Orleans last year, I ended up talking to chef and co -owner Stephen Stryjewski. I mentioned that I sold olive oil, and I’ve been shipping both extra virgin olive oil and Katz vinegars south ever since.

The Cajun food served at Cochon is very similar to the simple, Italian-like stuff I like to make, but with a slightly different ingredient mix. Many dishes use a base of aromatic vegetables to build flavor, and what they call the trinity in Louisiana—onion, celery, and bell pepper cooked in fat—is basically the sofrito that’s the start of many Italian preparations.

This shouldn’t have surprised me. The Acadians expelled from Canada in the late 1700s were mostly French, and even before the Louisiana Purchase the area was being settled by German, Italian, Greek, and Irish immigrants. Working folks from these European cultures knew how to get the most from everyday ingredients. Mix in the influences from Spain (who sold the Mississippi delta area to the USA), the Caribbean, and Africa, and, with the right hands in the kitchen, you get real good food.

Fresh okra was available last week at the farmers market, and my sungolds are still getting ripe. Combine both with a little cured pork and put on some zydeco. Laissez les bons temps rouler!

Okra, Cherry Tomatoes and Bacon
Adapted from "Real Cajun,"the Cochon cookbook

Cooking the okra separately in hot oil keeps it from getting that slimy quality. Slice the okra into one inch chunks and cook in fairly hot olive oil until nicely browned, about 5 minutes. Set aside.

Cut a few slices of bacon into small pieces and cook in a little olive oil until browned. Add a chopped onion, a pinch of salt, and, if you like a little heat, all or part of a finely chopped jalapeno or other mildly hot to incendiary pepper. Add a decent splash of Katz Gravenstein Apple Cider vinegar and cook for 10-15 minutes.

Slice about a pint of sungold cherry tomatoes in half. Add to the bacon, toss in the cooked okra, and simmer for another 10 minutes. Serve with Crystal hot sauce.

If you'd like to get Jim's e-mail newsletters with updates on what he's featuring each week at Activspace and at the farmers' market, send him an e-mail with "Subscribe" in the subject line.

Bitten Again

Mark Bittman must be a really busy guy. Aside from his weekly Minimalist column in the New York Times, he has a very active blog, regular speaking engagements that take him around the country and one of the hottest apps on iTunes based on his book, "How to Cook Everything."Not that he had much to do with the app…it was written right here in Portland by my friend, fab programmer and co-founder of Culinate.com, James Berry.

He used to have his own blog on the New York Times site, Bitten, but it's since been mooshed in with the newspaper's other food blogs and retitled Diner's Journal. (One might wonder if the Grey Lady was a little jealous of his traffic numbers and wanted to draft off his success. But I digress.)

Our own black cherry tomatoes simmering to perfection.

I've referenced Bittman's recipes multiple times on this blog, and realized recently that there was one that I hadn't told you about. It's one of my favorite easy dinners, especially during tomato season, and it calls for garlic, anchovies and cherry tomatoes. Yes, really, just three ingredients. Well, and pasta to put it on, optional red pepper flakes for zing and some grated parmesan. But it's that simple sauce that's the beauty part, rich and flavorful and the perfect combination of comfort and freshness.

Pasta with Cherry Tomatoes, Anchovies and Garlic

Adapted from Mark Bittman's recipe for the New York Times

Salt
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
10 garlic cloves, peeled
2 or 3 dried red chiles, optional
20 anchovy fillets, more or less [I usually use 1 tin, drained]
2 cups halved cherry tomatoes
Freshly ground black pepper
1 pound cut pasta, like penne
Chopped fresh parsley leaves for garnish
Grated parmesan 

Bring a large pot of water to a boil and salt it. Put olive oil in a medium skillet over medium heat; a minute later, add garlic and chiles, if using. Cook garlic so it bubbles gently. When it is lightly browned all over, add anchovies. Cook, stirring occasionally, for about a minute, until anchovies begin to fall apart, then add tomatoes. Adjust heat so tomatoes bubble nicely, and cook until mixture becomes saucy, about 5 minutes. Taste and add salt and pepper as necessary.

Meanwhile, cook pasta until tender but not mushy. When it is done, drain it, reserving a little cooking water to thin sauce if necessary. Pour sauce over pasta, sprinkle with parsley and serve with parmesan alongside.

Farm Bulletin: Up Close and Personal

Each year Anthony and Carol host a Field Day at Ayers Creek Farm. Last year's was not only informative but fabulous, and this year looks to be no exception. Mark your calendars now for Oct. 3!

We are planning a field tour for Sunday, the 3rd of October at 3 pm, rain or shine. It won't be a grand fête, but the tour will give you all a picture of the "worked over" farm stripped of its crops, and the transition to winter vegetables. There will be a fair amount of walking as this year the plantings are more scattered than usual. Map and directions here.

Setting a Big Table

"Clementine, the Catahoula leopard hound, has been anxious since dawn, not wanting to be too far from her owner, Clare Carver of Big Table Farm. Clare has been moody for the past couple of days. Even Clare's husband, Brian, has been giving his wife a wide berth. When Clare goes up to the hill pasture to sit with her pigs, Picnic and Pancake, Clementine stations herself with a good view of the road. She knows something is coming, something that is making Clare sad, and she wants to be ready."

A portrait of life on Big Table Farm in Gaston appears in this month's issue of NW Palate magazine, and I think it's one of the best things I've written lately. While the article is not available online, you can buy the magazine in Portland at B. Dalton, Borders, Chapters, Fred Meyer, Metropolitan Markets, 
Powell’s Books, Thriftway, WaldenBooks, Winco and Zupan’s, or subscribe for $15 for six issues a year. Other newsstands around the Northwest are listed on the website, so pick up a copy or three!

Livin' in the Blurbs: Kids, Cookbooks and Art

Once in awhile do you wish you could just drop your kids off someplace for dinner then go get yourself a nice cocktail? Well, this month at Salvador Molly's in Hillsdale your kids will not only eat free, but the proceeds from every adult entrée will go toward feeding homeless kids at the Community Transitional School (CTS). CTS runs a special curriculum and feeds their students 2 nutritious meals a day, and in addition it will run a contest for its students to compete for best attendance (their biggest challenge because of their circumstances) and win a meal catered for their class by Salvador Molly's. So let the kids sit at their own table, order a margarita and some food, and feel virtuous; because you're doing something not only for yourself, but for someone else!

Details: Salvador Molly's "Kids Eat Free During September" Event. Salvador Molly's, 1523 SW Sunset Blvd. Phone 503-293-1790.

* * *

Do you or someone you love suffer from the heartbreak of cookbook addiction? Then the Portland Culinary Alliance is having the event of your dreams when it hosts Eat My Words: Chef Cookbooks Symposium and Luncheon on Oct. 2. Portland and Seattle cookbook authors, including Ethan Stowell, Cory Schreiber, Vitaly Paley, Piper Davis, Robert Reynolds and Ellen Jackson, will discuss the particulars of writing a cookbook, followed by a lunch with dishes from their books, which will be available for purchase and signing. So drip some berry coulis on Rustic Fruit Dessertsand have Cory sign your copy!

Details: Eat My Words: Chef Cookbooks Syposium and Luncheon. Oct. 2, 9:30 am-2 pm; $65, tickets available online or by e-mail. Hotel DeLuxe, 729 SW 15th Ave. Phone 402-270-4604.

* * *

If a drive out in the country on a crisp fall day sounds as appealing to you as it does to me, the the first two weekends in October will be the perfect excuse to jump in the car and head out on the highway. Why? Because its time for the Art Harvest Studio Tour in Yamhill, featuring tours of more than 40 artists' studios with an opportunity to talk to, and buy art from, some fabulously talented folks. One is Clare Carver of Big Table Farm in Gaston, who's featured in an article by yours truly in this month's NW Palate magazine. So take a picnic and make a day (or more) of it!


Details: 17th Annual Art Harvest Tour of Yamhill County. Oct. 1-3 and 8-10; $7 for button to get into studios. Self-guided tour map and information available on the website. Phone 503-883-3050.

Salad Smackdown: Grain and Bear it!

I've decided I'm going to name my next cat, when I find it, Tabbouli. If it's a tabby, that is. And it probably will be, since I'm bound and determined to find a marmalade cat like our dearly departed Chester, one of those red-rather-than-orange types like Thomasina in The Three Lives of Thomasina.

Chester, unretouched.

My favorite movie as a child, I would weep through the whole thing, especially when she (of course) is returned to the child, Mary, at the end. It was only slightly ruined when I watched it with my son when he was four or five and he pointed out that Thomasina was played by two different cats with very different markings. So I told him that the Easter bunny and Santa were fakes. (Not really…)

Frikeh simmering on the stove.

What does this have to do with salad, you might ask? Well, I not only like the name Tabbouli, I also adore the grain salad with the same moniker. So when I ran across Eamon Molloy's recipe for a frikeh tabbouli in the Hillsdale Farmers' Market newsletter, I knew it was one I had to try and it didn't disappoint. It can also be made with other grains like farro, bulgur or couscous (not technically a grain, I know), but those obviously won't have the slightly smoky flavor imparted by the scorching of the wheat. (Frikeh has a notoriously short season unless, unlike me this year, you buy as much as you can and then freeze it for future use…d'oh!)

Frikeh Tabbouli

1 c. cooked frikeh (cooled)
6 Tbsp. olive oil
2 c. finely chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley (about 3 bunches)
1/2 c. finely chopped fresh mint (about two bunches)
2 medium tomatoes, cut into 1/4-inch pieces
1 cucumber, peeled, cored and diced
1/2 c. finely diced sweet onion or scallions
6 Tbsp. fresh lemon juice
Salt and pepper to taste

To prepare the frikeh, rinse the grains and then combine one part frikeh and two parts water in a pot of water. Bring to a boil and then simmer for about a half hour. Frikeh can be used in recipes calling for rice or bulgher. Tabbouleh is simple summer salad where you can use frikeh. If using other grain, follow directions for its preparation.

Wash and dry parsley. Finely chop leaves and small tender stems. Wash and dry mint, remove leaves from stems and finely chop. Combine mint, parsley, onion, tomato and cucumber in a bowl. Add frikeh, olive oil and lemon juice.

Eamon adds a note at the end: "Tabbouleh recipes are, as Captain Barbosa in Pirates of the Caribbean would say, 'more like guidelines.' If you like more grain in your tabbouli, just add more frikeh."

More salads in the Smackdown: Kale Salad with Anchovies, Olives and Lemon and Panzanella.

Lovely Lincoln

Sometimes I'm a little behind. As in late to the party, the last to know, maybe even a little slow on the uptake. But better late than never, right? Right?

So it was that when friends called to see if we'd like to join them for dinner at Lincoln, I had to admit that, no, though it's a mere five-minute drive from our door to theirs, we had yet to have dinner at the now 2-year-old establishment. And we'd even heard very complimentary things about the food, the service and the Northwest-meets-midcentury design of the place.

We walked in right on time for our 7:15 pm reservation and found our friends already ensconced at the bar with drinks in hand (one of many reasons we love them), so we sat down and ordered a round for ourselves. The maître d' stopped by to let us know our table was ready, but said there was no hurry if we wanted to hang at the bar for a few minutes, and she was as good as her word.

We moved the party to the table, our drinks floating behind us care of the able staff, and ordered the octopus salad (meaty and delicious) and thyme flatbread with tonnato (a tuna-based spread), heirloom tomatoes and a spoonful of fennel salad…fresh and totally seasonal. I noticed that padron peppers were featured on another salad and, because our friends had never tasted them, I asked our waitress if the chef could possibly fry up a few for them to sample.

Within moments a plate piled with the peppers arrived and as we nibbled…who am I kidding?…inhaled them we ordered our entrées, two of us going for rabbit, one for albacore (two large pieces seared on green beans and bottarga, above) and the other rounding it out with a lamb ragu. My rabbit (above right), a confit of two legs on soft polenta with padron peppers and pimenton, was tender and juicy, a nice trick to pull off with the leanness of this meat, even considering it's the juiciest part of the bunny.

I found out later that this place is known for its housemade pastas, and our experience confirmed that in spades. The malloreddus pasta, which came with a rabbit ragu, was a new one on me, looking for all the world like a pile of little white caterpillars. Which put none of us off of it in the least, since we all passed bites around for the table to sample. Dave had also ordered a pasta dish, this one with sorcetti, similar to gnocchi and made with potatoes, that came topped by a lamb ragu. The rich stew was mixed with plenty of pecorino and was the sneaker hit of the evening.

The bottle of Chateau Trinquevedel Tavel Rosé that we chose was light enough for the albacore but had enough body and acid to take on the ragus, so the group was more than happy on that front. After dinner it was shots of scotch and __ for the guys (no cigars, alas…I love that smell with scotch!) and a dessert for the table, a light meringue layered with creme fraiche and slathered with blueberries (above left). A nigh perfect finish.

So though we might have been a tad slow to come to the table at Lincoln, we were more than pleased that we'd finally taken our seats there.

Details: Lincoln, 3808 N Williams Ave. Phone 503-288-6200.