Off the Beaten Track: Wheatland Ferry

I was rushing to get to a shoot for Food Farmer Earth a couple of weeks ago and, as usual, I was a little behind schedule. Most of the farms featured are out in the boonies—meaning, to me, outside the city limits—and, as usual, I had no idea where I was going.

The two-lane road I was driving took a turn and ended…in a river. I could see that the road continued on the other side, and noticed a tiny ferry on the opposite bank. A couple of vehicles were driving onto its deck, and within a couple of minutes it was trundling over to my side.

Called the Wheatland Ferry, it's been carrying loads across the Willamette since the 1850s. The first ferry, named the Daniel Matheny after the man who began the service and was its first pilot, was a wooden raft powered by men with wooden poles. Every time a new ferry is commissioned (they've been motorized since the turn of the century) it is renamed the Daniel Matheny and is given a Roman numeral connoting the generation. The current ferry is the Daniel Matheny V, has a capacity of nine cars and makes almost 250,000 trips a year across the river.

For me, it was a chance to slow down, take a deep breath and experience the joy of a beautiful fall morning on the river. What a gift!

The Ant or the Grasshopper?

Excuses? I got a million of 'em.

First the grasshopper part: I've been out of town a lot this summer, to Wenatchee and Lake Chelan (pre-fire), then to Cape Breton, Nova Scotia, and most recently to Louisville, Kentucky, to explore the city and visit Maker's Mark.

Now for the ant: the garden was on (virtual) steroids this summer, producing pounds and pounds of tomatoes, requiring us to eat them fresh, give them away or roast and freeze. Then I got the chance to help my friend Linda home-can about 50 pounds of fresh albacore, which I'll be telling you about soon.

Last, but most certainly not least, last winter I got addicted to homemade tomato sauce made from astiana tomatoes I roasted and froze. Pulling out a bag guaranteed a blast of summer flavor on grey, rainy winter days. Which meant I had little choice but to do the same when they appeared at the Ayers Creek stand at the Hillsdale market this year. Seventy or so pounds of tomatoes later, I have about eighteen quarts of delicious roasted tomatoes just waiting to be used in sauces, stews and soups.

Which, seeing as I'm going to be around for the foreseeable future, you'll be able to read about right here. Cause I've run out of excuses.

Farm Bulletin: Measure 80, An Agricultural Act

For contributor Anthony Boutard of Ayers Creek Farm, the act of farming is not simply comprised of tilling the soil, planting and then harvesting crops…it is also an intensively civic practice.

For those who love our Astiana tomatoes, flint corn and popcorn, the beans and all of those wonderful chicories, imagine how good life would be if we and other quality market farmers were allowed to lavish the same attention on Cannabis sativa. The plants would be organically grown in the field with dilute foliar sprays of salt and kelp, followed with timely and careful harvest and cleaning. Levity aside, Measure 80, the Oregon Cannabis Tax Act, is one more proposal for relieving this nation of its crazy fixation on marijuana. The prohibition clogs the court system and destroys people's lives senselessly. More importantly, Measure 80 is an agricultural act.

Canola field.

This Friday, for the better part of three hours, seed growers and fresh vegetable farmers testified against recklessly changing Oregon Department of Agriculture's quarantine of rapeseed, aka canola, in the Willamette Valley. It is a known noxious weed which will increase disease and insect pressure, and cross pollinate with valuable seed crops. In a surrealistic procedure, we testified before a hearings officer, an impassive scribe, who had no decision-making authority and no working knowledge of the issue. Our testimony was delivered in three minute snippets, governed by horizontal traffic light. For those who recall Woody Allen's "Sleeper," it was a scene reminiscent of talking to the leader's nose. Using a hearings officer in this manner is simply agency cowardice and insouciance; dozens of farmers joined by numerous other citizens took the time to express their concerns and the agency's decision-makers hid behind the "nose" with no interest in engaging the public. We were an inconvenient step towards a decision they have already made.

Canola blossom.

It doesn't have to be this way. When Janet McClennan and Dick Roy, both of whom frequent the Hillsdale Farmers' Market, were members of the Board of Forestry, they sat through hours of public testimony regarding forest practices and other thorny issues with Jim Brown, the state forester. Chair McClennan, and her predecessor Tom Walsh, took the time to thank each person when their testimony concluded. The board members and state forester engaged people appearing before them with respectful questions when appropriate. Their discussion following the testimony took place in public, and took into account the testimony. They followed a consent agenda, so if no member of the board dissented that agenda item was approved. It was a glowing example of public process and civil engagement, in the finest spirit of democracy. Unfortunately, the Department of Agriculture chose the exactly opposite route, leaving us to speak to an impassive nose and then finalizing the decision behind closed doors. It was a shabby example of public process and civil engagement, with nary a shadow of democratic spirit.

Industrial hemp.

This bring us back to Measure 80. Currently, the domestic production of hemp is impossible because of its relationship to marijuana. Hemp is a valuable, high quality fiber and oilseed plant that is well adapted to the climate of Oregon. Disentangling ourselves from our state and national marijuana prohibition will allow the cultivation of Cannabis sativa for its fiber and oil, as a well a pharmaceutical. If it is joined by the passage of similar laws in Washington and Colorado, it will be a big step in opening the conversation about legalizing its cultivation nationally.

Is Measure 80 perfect? Probably not. As the Oregonian has taken pains to point out, no law is upon passage. But a statutory measure can be amended easily. So, as we fill in our ballots sometime in October, these two farmers will mark "yes" on Measure 80 as an agricultural act.

Cape Breton: A Forager Finds Home

As John Lennon wrote in his song about his son, "life is what happens to you when you're busy making other plans." In Earlene Busch's case, it happened when she ordered a curly maple bedroom set made in Cape Breton by a local craftsman.

An inveterate forager and Colorado native, she flew out to pick up her purchase and fell in love with the island's beauty and the profusion of native plants and mushrooms she found while hiking its woods. Her decision to move lock, stock and bedroom set to the island was further reinforced by her disgust at the political turn in the States when Newt Gingrich and the Republicans swept into power in the mid-90s.

After looking around for land, she came across a 100-acre property overlooking the North River and St. Anne's Harbour that had woods loaded with native mushrooms as well as a spring that could supply water. On the crest of the hill she built an inn modeled on a traditional Cape Breton barn and used wood salvaged from an original barn on the property, naming it the Chanterelle Inn after her favorite mushrooms.

Our room was at the top of the stairs on the second floor, a large, comfy, wood-lined room with Oriental carpets, a queen bed and private bath with a big window looking out over green hillsides. We took a few minutes to clean up and went down to the big screened-in dining deck to have a glass of local wine and unwind before dinner.

As you might expect, Earlene is dedicated to local foods, especially those she forages herself, and she seeks out organic growers on the island to supply her restaurant. Dinner started with a salad of roasted beets and island blueberries, a combination that I'd never had before. The robust sweetness of the beets was perfectly offset by the intense flavor of the local berries that had been brought in by a friend of Earlene's that morning.

Next was a to-die-for creamy wild mushroom and fiddlehead soup, followed by an applewood-smoked chicken with fresh corn on the cob and sautéed garden greens. The local shiraz poured with it was terrific, and sitting on the deck made us feel like we were having a private picnic.

Hummingbirds were buzzing around having their breakfast as we sat down for ours the next morning. Strong coffee, with a spread that included Earlene's homemade granola with island cranberries and cream, soft-boiled eggs, toast and an apple compote made from trees on the property gave me plenty to load up on before heading out on a kayaking trip with North River Kayak Tours that morning, to be followed by a mushroom foraging expedition with Earlene that afternoon.

After paddling the pristine waters of the North River estuary for a couple of hours with a diverse group from Britain, Japan, Toronto and the States, I came back ready for a good tramp in the woods. And Earlene knows her woods like the back of her hand: this time of year meant going to the best spots for chanterelles, which grow in the sphagnum moss under spruce trees, unlike our Northwest chanties that prefer the duff beneath Doug fir. She also pointed out the various amanitas and other outliers that popped up randomly on our walk, and the ones she couldn't quite identify she took back to look up later.

It was tough to tear ourselves away after that, but the all-powerful itinerary said we must…I would have happily stayed for days, talking politics and walking the hills with Earlene.

Read the other posts in this series: Arriving in Nova Scotia, The View, Redux, Talk about Good Stuff! and Stirrings of an Artisan Economy.

Italian Prunes, Oregon History

It is so awesome having dogs. For one thing, they force me to get out and exercise. It helps mitigate the effects of sitting on my duff in front of the computer most of the day, not to mention burning off some of the calories that accrue in writing about food (and, of course, eating it). Plus it gets me out onto the streets where I can survey the latest goings-on from who's remodeling or moving to who's doing some new landscaping (or not).

This time of year is particularly good for taking stock of the bounty available from Portland's street trees. All I have to do is look down, since the sidewalks are littered with walnuts, apples and chestnuts, not to mention my favorite windfall items, Italian prunes.

A fascinating piece of history that I ran across on a research tangent the other day is that we owe the introduction of the Italian prune to Oregon to one Dr. Orlando Pleasant Shields Plummer* (right). Not only does he have a really cool name, he was a medical doctor and professor (and the first dean of the medical school at Willamette University), a telegraph operator and a fruit farmer. He was also elected to both the Portland City Council (1865-66) and the Oregon Legislative Assembly (in 1880 and 1882).

An avid horticulturist, he owned a 20-acre fruit farm in Southwest Portland, planting his first prune trees, a variety called Fellenberg, in the late 1850s. By 1927, one source indicates, there were 55,000 acres of Italian prunes growing on farms in Oregon and Clark County, Washington. Obviously some were also planted in parking strips in my neighborhood, and their fruit makes a mighty fine crisp.

Italian Prune Crisp

For the topping:

1 c. flour

3/4 c. uncooked rolled oats

1 c. brown sugar

1/2 Tbsp. cinnamon

1/2 c. melted butter or margarine

For the fruit:

4-6 c. Italian prunes, pitted and quartered
1 c. sugar

1/4 c. water, triple sec or Cointreau
2 Tbsp. cornstarch

1 tsp. vanilla

Mix together dry ingredients in medium sized bowl. Pour in melted butter or margarine and stir with fork to distribute. When well-mixed and crumbly, scatter on top of fruit in pan (below).

Slice fruit into large mixing bowl. Add sugar, water, cornstarch and vanilla and mix thoroughly. Put in 9” by 12” by 2” baking pan. Scatter topping mixture over the top and bake in 350 degree oven for 50 min. to 1 hr.

* The source for this information is from Corning, Howard M. (1989) "Dictionary of Oregon History," Binfords & Mort Publishing, p. 199. Other sources credit nurseryman Henderson Luelling with the introduction of the Italian prune to the state around the same time.

The Last Cul de Sac

I have a confession to make about a habit of mine, one I engage in daily and that I rarely mention: the first thing I do in morning…well, the first thing after I take the dogs out to pee, make coffee and feed the critters…the first thing I do when I finally sit down with a cup of coffee is open up the paper to the comics page.

Yes, my name is Kathleen and I'm a daily comics reader.

There, I've said it.

Over the last year or so, after my friend Karl mentioned it was his favorite strip, I started reading a little comic called Cul de Sac. It's so understated, with its sketchy lines, jiggety font and subtle characters, that it had never drawn my attention. But once I started reading it, I was hooked.

On Alice and her penchant for dancing on manhole covers. On her brother Petey, who spends most of his time on his bed reading comics (of course) and monitoring his ranking on the Picky Eater scale. And on the other characters who populate their world, like their mom and her habit of wearing loud Christmas sweater, hapless Dill whose brothers may someday blow up the planet, Miss Bliss, the preternaturally perky preschool teacher…the list could go on and on.

But this last Sunday's strip was to be the final one, due to Richard Thompson, its author, having been diagnosed recently with Parkinson's disease, which has made it impossible to continue with his work.

Selfishly, I'm sad to lose these little characters who've been a part of my mornings. And I'm sad for Thompson, whose brilliant mind made them come alive on the page. But I'll still open the paper every morning and read my comics, glad that I got to know Alice and her friends if only for a little while.

Cul de Sac comic above by Richard Thompson from Sunday, Sept. 23, 2012, and Nov. 25, 2007. Read his blog here.

Farm Bulletin: Gathering of Dusty Feet

I don't know about you, but when I go to the farmers' market, I just grab my shopping bag, jump in the car and go. As I walk the aisles looking for that perfect bunch of carrots or winter squash and talking with friends, neighbors and favorite vendors, I'm not thinking about how markets evolved or where the custom of ringing the bell to start the market came from. That's why I'm so glad contributor Anthony Boutard of Ayers Creek Farm is there to enlighten me about the things I take for granted.

When the market manager's designated representative swings the bell on Sunday, it is a gesture steeped in history. Markets are regulated places of exchange. The antecedent to the market structure, a big and heavy club in order to whack somebody over the head and exact their goods, was woefully inefficient. The lump on the head approach of unfettered exchange requires double the number of transactions, and headaches all around. People of a libertarian bent rant about the need for "free markets," but that is an oxymoron. From the earliest times, the right to conduct a market or a fair was granted by the reigning monarch to an individual or institution by means of a charter. A critical component of the charter was granting of safe passage to and from the market or fair by the monarch. Without that guarantee from the government, there would be a paucity of vendors and buyers.

Markets must also have rules of trade. When Adam Smith was contemplating his "invisible hand" in the late 18th century, he recognized three conditions necessary for an efficient market. The first is the requirement that buyers and sellers have free will, no coercion, no big clubs. Second, the market is composed of atomized buyers and sellers, in other words, everyone is operating at the same scale and no entity can dominate or monopolize the market. Third is the notion of perfect information. These are sweeping conditions impossible to fully meet. Ideally, rules and regulations nudge the market closer to meeting them. For example, standard weights and measures are there to help the market advance towards the third condition, consequently we must use an inspected and licensed scale to conduct trade at Hillsdale. A standardized opening time signified by the market bell is another gesture at meeting the third. In times past, the weight of a loaf of bread was also standardized, giving rise to the extra loaf in a "bakers dozen" to avoid the stiff penalties for coming up short.

As soon as rules and regulations supplanted the big wooden club, the need for a means of a club-less resolution of disputes arises. Probably from the time of first organized markets an organic and rational system of justice arose, ultimately giving rise to merchant law. In England during the time of the Saxons, market charters granted the right to "sac and soc and tol" and "infangthef." This meant the owner of the market could investigate (sac) and adjudicate (soc) claims, and exact goods and money (tol) to satisfy a claim found legitimate. The right of infangthef allows the owner of the market to purse and apprehend miscreants within the market or fair boundaries.

With the Norman conquest, these rights evolved into the Court of the Piepoudres. The name "piepoudres," in its various spellings, is derived from the French/Latin words for "dusty feet," a reference to the long distances traveled by the merchants as they walked between markets and fairs. The merchants may have traveled from France, Spain, the Low Countries or Ireland, as well as other parts of England. They were a transient population, and needed to move on as soon as the market ended. Consequently, these courts displayed a streak of practicality. The investigation and trial had to be completed within a fixed time, typically a day, or in the case of seafaring merchants, three tides. The proceedings relied on evidence rather than testimony regarding characters of the plaintiff and defendant. The tribunals included merchants and customers. When an alien was before the court, an alien was also seated as a member of the tribunal. We have in these courts the inkling of a jury of peers. The Courts were administered by the market itself, a separate and limited jurisdiction distinct from the town or borough in which they were located.

Over time, a body of merchant law developed and the need for a separate court within markets and fairs faded. The very last of these courts was seated in middle of the 19th century. Though, in the United States, the modern tradition of small claims courts shares the spirit of the dusty foot courts—expedience and practicality. If you are interested reading more, Charles Gross discussed the court in The Quarterly Journal of Economics (1906), vol. 20: 231-249. It includes the proceedings from the mid 15th century case of Thomas Smith vs. the contumacious Cristina van Bondelyng.

Fortunately, the Hillsdale Court of Piepoudres sits very infrequently, and if all goes well this Sunday and there no infractions of the rules, we can hasten home and enjoy a tasty plum cake (Zwetschenkuchen or Pflaumenkuchen) with a mix of the prunes we picked for market. This recipe is adapted from The Fannie Farmer Cookbook, 11th Edition. As New Englanders, Fannie Farmer is where you go for basic recipes.

Plum Cake

Butter a 9" x 9" pan. Preheat the oven to 375°.
Cream:
    1/4 cup butter
Beat in:
    1 cup sugar
    1 egg, well beaten
Sift together:
    1 &1/2 cups all-purpose flour
    2 teaspoons baking powder
    1/4 teaspoon salt
Add to the first mixture alternately with:
    1/2 cup milk
 Cut plums in half and place cut side up close together in even rows over batter.  The plum flesh should float slightly above the batter.
Sprinkle with:
    2 Tablespoons melted butter
Then sprinkle with turbino sugar, especially over the plums.

Bake about 20 minutes or so until the batter is cooked. Cut into squares.

The original recipe suggests placing the plums in the batter cut side down, and adding cinnamon to the sugar.  Wouldn't look as pretty, and who needs cinnamon when you have a good plum.

The Style Manual for Market Farm Newsletters (3rd Edition) satisfied, that's it.

Canola Controversy: Despite Decision, It's Not Over

There's good news and bad news in the ongoing controversy between the Oregon Department of Agriculture (ODA) and various stakeholders over whether to open up previously protected areas of the Willamette Valley to the growing of canola.

The good news: a temporary ruling by the ODA, made without input from the public or stakeholders, to allow canola to be grown in these protected areas was overturned by the Oregon Court of Appeals.

The bad news: the ODA filed for a permanent ruling to allow growing of canola using the same language and map. This permanent ruling requires public comment, including a hearing, before the rule can be implemented.

Which is where you come in.

1. Please consider signing this online petition opposing the permanent ruling. It will be presented to ODA Director Katy Coba and Governor John Kitzhaber during the public hearing on September 28, 2012.

2. If you can, attend the public hearing on September 28, 2012, at 9 am at the Oregon State Fairgrounds in Salem. If you are an affected stakeholder and/or expert, please provide comments at this hearing and encourage other stakeholders (seed producers, farm organizations, seed companies and others) to do the same. Address: Oregon State Fairgrounds, Cascade Hall, 2330 17th St. NE, Salem, OR.

3. If you can't make the hearing, you can provide comments through October 5, 2012, in response to the proposed rule via email or postal mail. Address: Canola Hearings Officer, Oregon Department of Agriculture, 635 Capitol St. NE, Salem, OR 97301-2532.

For more information on canola and the issues surrounding growing it in the Willamette Valley, start here. You can read the ruling issued by the Court of Appeals. 

Photo of canola field in Washington County by Gary Halvorson, Oregon State Archives, via Wikimedia Commons.

Food Farmer Earth: Fillet Tuna Like a Master

In this video, a bonus feature from my interview for Food Farmer Earth with Mark Kujala of Skipanon Brand Seafood, watch Skipanon's Shirley Tischer demonstrate how an expert fillets a tuna. Wow!

Food Farmer Earth: A Small Cannery, a Community's Pride

For much of the last century, fishing was a secure livelihood for the people of Oregon's coastal towns, but in the 70s the industry crashed. Tiny Skipanon Brand Seafood survived because Mark Kujala and his family built a microcannery and began marketing their canned fish themselves. My interview for Food Farmer Earth tells their story.

It’s amazing to imagine what it must have been like to walk along the docks of Oregon’s small coastal towns like Astoria and Warrenton in the first half of the twentieth century. Hundreds of fishing boats would chug into port after spending weeks at sea, their holds full of salmon, tuna and sturgeon. They’d tie up next to the thirty or so canneries that lined the waterfronts and unload their catches, the air filled with the shouting of dock workers and the cry of seabirds looking to scoop up any scraps.

In the 1970s, Oregon’s coastal fishing industry, consisting for the most part of small, family-owned boats, was being devastated by the rise of large foreign fleets competing for ever-decreasing stocks. Seeing the industry changing and the big canneries moving out or closing, Warrenton fisherman Norman Kujala adapted by building his own cannery on the banks of the Skipanon River in 1978.

Skipanon Brand Seafood is now run by the second generation of the Kujala family, including Paul, who fishes for salmon on the family boat called the Cape Windy, and Mark, who runs the cannery and oversees the processing of salmon, sturgeon and albacore…

Read the rest of my story about the Kujalas and Skipanon, then watch Skipanon's Shirley Tischer demonstrate how to fillet a tuna…amazing!

In this week's cooking segment, you can learn to can your own fish (in this case sardines) at home using a pressure canner. To find out more about this series of interviews with local food producers, and to get some terrific recipes featuring the ingredients discussed, consider a free subscription. 

Luscious Pound Cake? Yes, Please!

Nothing like being served a drop-dead delicious dessert and getting the secret recipe. (It didn't even require that much begging…) Even better, I got permission to share it with you all!

My friend Bruce Kerr's grandmother passed this recipe down to him, and it's perfect with seasonal berries. This winter you could take some berries out of the freezer (ones you wisely froze at the peak of their sweetness during the summer), thaw them till they soften, stir in a little cassis, then spoon them over the top.

Speaking of over the top, whip of some of the lemon buttermilk ice cream that Bruce's wife Pamela made to go with the cake and berries…it'll send this dessert into the stratosphere.

Eunice Bruner Kerr's Pound Cake

3 c. flour
3 c. sugar
1/2 lb. butter
6 eggs
1 c. sour cream or 1 c. low-fat yogurt (plain)
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. vanilla

Preheat oven to 300°.

Grease bundt pan. Cream butter & sugar together, and add vanilla. Add eggs one at a time, stirring between additions. Add flour and sour cream (or yogurt) alternately, and add baking soda.

Fill bundt pan approx. 2/3 full, to allow for expansion during baking. Bake at 300° for 1 hour 15 minutes.

Lemon Buttermilk Ice Cream*
Adapted by Leslie Cole for the Oregonian from Rozanne Gold's Recipes 1-2-3

1 qt. buttermilk
2 c. bakers sugar
1/2 c. lemon juice (about 4 medium lemons, juiced)
2 Tbsp. grated fresh lemon
1/8 tsp. salt

Mix sugar and lemon juice until blended. Add buttermilk, grated lemon and salt and blend until smooth in a large bowl. Let sit in fridge for up to 4 hours or overnight. Put into ice cream maker and process as directed on machine. (Pamela said, "It comes out more the consistency of a sorbet and has little or no fat. Enjoy!")

* Find a variation using lemons and limes at Culinate.com.

Farm Bulletin: The Shell Bean, Explained

The first time I saw shell beans in the produce section at the market, I was intrigued. I'd cooked dry beans for years, but had never seen anything like these lovely little beans with their glowing, translucent skins and various colored specks and splotches. Would that I had this explanation from contributor Anthony Boutard of Ayers Creek Farm to read.

One of the earliest vegetable crops we planted at the farm was shell beans. It was one of those odd ideas that got lodged in our heads, yet we were clueless as to how handle them at a commercial scale. A couple of years later we would repeat the scene with flint corn and frikeh. One of the advantages of farm equipment is that you can plow under your blunders and failures, such as summer turnips, emboldening the creative streak. The beans were planted and we began began to practice the pitch. Sitting around on a hot summer's afternoon shelling beans is a great family time, just like shelling peas. Though, truth be told, as children we had regarded shelling peas and beans as a dreary chore taking us away from far better things.

In the spring of 2000 we planted several different varieties. In June, before the craziness of harvest began, Carol took a week off to visit her parents. In a rural country store, she saw a container of freshly shelled butter beans (limas). She joked that it must be a lot of work to shell all those beans. The woman directed her to a shed out back where they had a bean shelling machine. The big green wooden machine had hand-routed on its front panel "Roto-Fingers Pea-Bean Sheller" (top photo, in the Ayers Creek barn). The manufacturer was Welborn Devices in Laurel, Mississippi. A few weeks later, Larry Welborn shipped his first Roto-Fingers west of the Continental Divide. He quipped that it is highly unusual to find any identifying marks on the machines because, once a farmer had one, the information was obliterated to keep it away from any competitors.

The Roto-Fingers is a batch sheller. About 20 pounds of beans are shelled at a time, and it is a very gentle process. All of our dry beans are shelled in the machine as well. Fourteen years later, many tons of beans have gone through this contrivance handmade one at a time down there in Laurel, and it still runs perfectly.

Fresh shell beans are the equivalent of new potatoes or frikeh sans the smokiness. They are still developing their starches, and they have more of a vegetable flavor than the dry forms. Initially we harvested them very green, but over time we found they are better when they have a range of maturities in the mix. Not every dry bean is good fresh-shelled, and some are very dull indeed. In addition, some shell in a messy fashion and take a long time to clean. The beans, shelled or unshelled, should be refrigerated. Part of the mythology about shell beans is that they keep better in the shell. This is not true—the shells are big chunk of respiring tissue which generates heat and often mold in storage, compromising the beans inside. When harvested, the shell comprises between 50 and 60 percent of the bean's weight.

The soldier or johnson is a white bean from northern New England with a reddish figure around the eye that reminds some of a soldier and others, with a less martial mindset, see a piece of anatomy. Use it as you would a cannellino bean, very good in a cold salad with tuna and some minced shallot. Get a bit of albacore from Robin at Wild Oregon, or a bit of salmon. The flageolet is a small green bean which is often served as a side dish with lamb or in a gratin. The name comes from a French wind instrument similar to a recorder. Vermont Cranberry has the most robust in flavor of the three, yet will disappoint you when the beautiful pink bean turns a muddy brown as you cook it. At that point you are left to enjoy the distinguished flavor. A bit of acid will restore some of the markings.

Chastened after purgatory among the berry flats, the staff writer is even offering a recipe in compliance with the essential style manual for market farm newsletters. If you are inclined to ignore such instruction, there are two things to remember. Never eat shell beans raw. You will suffer a stomach ache that you will never forget. When cooking any type of beans, add any acid ingredients, such as tomatoes, after cooking. Otherwise, the beans don't cook well and stay tough. In some parts of the country, they add a pinch of soda or slack lime to the water to keep it on the alkaline side of neutral.

Cooking Fresh Shelling Beans

Judy Rogers offers this excellent method in her cookbook, The Zuni Café Cookbook.

For about 2 cups:
2 c. fresh shelling beans
1 carrot, peeled, split lengthwise and cut into chunks or minced
1 small yellow onion, quartered
1 bay leaf
Salt
2 Tbsp. olive oil

Rinse the beans in cold water. 

Place the carrot, onion and bay leaf in a 2-quart pan and add cold water to cover. Cover and simmer over low heat until the vegetables have softened and flavored the water, about 25 minutes.

Add the beans and enough additional water to cover. Some varieties may turn the water grey. Bring to a simmer then tilt the pot and skim any foam that floats to the surface.

Simmer gently, uncovered, until the beans are tender, 15-30 minutes, depending on the variety and point of maturity. Stir a few times to ensure even cooking and add water as needed to keep everything just covered. To test for doneness, cut a bean in half. The bean should be moist and tender with no pale, chalky core.  Remove the pan from the heat and stir in salt to taste. As it takes time for the beans to absorb the salt, taste the liquid, not the beans for the right saltiness. Stir in the olive oil and leave the beans to cool in the cooking liquid.

Cover and refrigerate up to 4 days in their liquid.

Turnip Diaries: An Exhortation

In his exhaustive treatise, herein referred to as The Turnip Diaries, contributor Anthony Boutard of Ayers Creek Farm discussed the history, degustation and agricultural philosophy of growing the noble turnip. Here he revisits the theme.

Finished planting the winter crops this week, including turnips and mustards. Next we start planting the first of the summer crops, garlic, shallots and wheat for frikeh. And you expect us to get the correct change every time (at the Ayers Creek Farm stand at the Hillsdale Farmers' Market) when our minds are addled by having to straddle whole seasons.

Anyway, you might ask why we continue to plant turnips as none of you want to buy them, and sometimes recoil at the mere suggestion. We are waiting for some sharp researcher to illuminate the common link between the great centenarian cultures.

Yes, turnips.

Theories state that secret of longevity is fish in Japan, yoghurt in Georgia, garlic in Russia, and pomegranates in the Middle East. Jiminy cricket, can't they figure out that turnips are enjoyed and eaten with gusto in all of these long-lived cultures? Hope springs eternal, so we pray the turnips grow well and our perspicacity is rewarded as reason returns to your eating habits. You can even start your centenarian regime now because a diet rich in plums is the other common thread among those cultures. The plums may even generate a hankering for turnips as you feel the spring return to your step.

Read the other posts in the Turnip Diaries series: Part I: The Wapato Valley, Part II: Chestnuts, Persimmons and Turnips, Part III: Misery Loves Company, Part IV: We're In This Pickle Together, Part V: The Spicy Turnip, Part VI: The Turnip Also Rises, Part VII: WWPD (What Would Pliny Do).

Roast Peppers For Maximum Flavor

Whether you call them peppers, chilis or chiles, there is something magical about these fruits of the capsicum plant and, in my opinion, they are at their very best when roasted over an open flame. Jim Dixon of RealGoodFood explains how and what to do with them.

While it may be the end of summer everywhere else, ours runs through September (and into October if we’re really lucky). Sunny afternoons, cool evenings and a cornucopia of great produce. Especially peppers.

Now’s the time when the smell of peppers roasting wafts through the farmers' market or even the grocery store parking lot. You can usually buy roasted peppers, but it’s easy to do yourself. My first published food story was about roasting peppers, and back in the 1980s I did it with the propane torch I used for waxing my cross country skis (just knowing that skis were once waxed really dates me).

These days I usually roast peppers in the oven or over coals on the Weber. But a hot-burning torch has advantages, especially when you want to make something like chile rellenos. The hot torch (or even the gas flame on your stovetop) blisters the skins quickly and the pepper doesn’t cook as much as it does in the oven. The firm chiles hold their shape better for rellenos, but for chile verde it’s not so important.

Chile Verde

My version is inspired by the green chile ubiquitous in the American southwest, but I won’t claim it’s authentically anything except really tasty. Use mild chiles like Anaheims if you can’t take the heat; poblanos are usually a bit hotter, but always taste any chile first. It’s a good idea to wear gloves, and a note that you can see from your work area reminding you not to touch your eyes or other sensitive body parts isn’t a bad idea.

Roast several chiles (45 minutes in a 350 oven or hold with fork over a gas flame until the skin is blistered and blackened) or use pre-roasted chiles. Scrape most of the blackened outer skin off , but don’t worry if some is still clinging. Pull out the seed core and as much of the seeds as you can (run under cold water if you like). Chop them up coarsely.

Chop an onion and maybe a few garlic cloves; cook in extra virgin olive oil (or pork fat, or any other animal fat) for a few minutes. Sprinkle in a bit of ground cumin and a good pinch of oregano; add some salt. Stir in the chiles, sprinkle with a tablespoon or so of flour and cook for a few minutes. Add about a half cup of water, bring to a boil and let simmer for a few minutes more.

Serve over eggs, on a cheeseburger, alongside tamales or with almost anything.

Pork Option

Cut pork shoulder (country style “ribs”) into chunks. Brown a little, add water, and simmer for a couple of hours (add more water if necessary). When the pork is very tender, break it apart with a fork and add some chile verde. Serve over Koda Farms brown rice.

Cape Breton: Stirrings of an Artisan Economy

Standing with Ron Muise in his sheep pasture on Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia, you'd think that this would be the perfect setting for a thriving dairy industry. And, according to Ron, you'd be right, except that it ceased thriving a few decades ago. Growing up on the island, he remembered fifty or more dairies dotting the countryside, with happy cows munching on the rich grass that thrived on the island's sea air.

By the time I met him this year, there were only a handful left…one of which was his own Wandering Shepherd creamery near Sydney. He himself had left the island as a young man, moving to Europe to become a chef and eventually owning his own restaurants. As a chef, Muise said he'd always had a strong interest in cheese and, as is common in European restaurants, had always featured a selection of favorite cheeses for his cheese courses.

The desire to make his own cheese coincided with an opportunity to move back to his wife's family's farm on Cape Breton's Mira River, a property of about 24 hectares (just under 60 acres). He sought out the advice of Vermont's Peter Dixon, the Johnny Appleseed of the artisan cheese movement and a go-to guy for anyone getting started in the cheese biz.

Because of Canada's dairy cow quota system, and not being a big fan of goats or goat cheeses, he decided to throw in his lot with sheep. It didn't hurt that his grandmother had a sheep farm when he was growing up, and he really liked cheeses made from their milk. He built a cheese room next to the family farmhouse and last October got a license to start production of his own raw ewe's milk cheeses.

Muise makes a Roquefort-style cheese he's calling Gorm Ailig (Gaelic for "Alec's Blue") and Lauchie's Tomme, both named for his two sons, as well as an Ossau-Iraty type called Caora Caise (“Sheep Cheese” in Gaelic). Currently he's selling them at the Cape Breton Farmers' Market in Sydney and three other markets across the island, and is finding an eager audience among local chefs interested in featuring his cheeses on their menus.

He's become a mentor to a batch of young farmers eager to join the nascent local food scene. With only 45 sheep of his own and his cheese production soon growing beyond the milk they can provide, a couple of local farmers have started flocks of their own with the idea that they'll help provide the additional milk Muise will need. He's also working with the government to implement programs that will see more development in artisan production for small scale producers.

Muise is inspiring when he talks about the potential for the island to develop an artisan sector, with the rolling terrain perfect for small farms and with plenty of land available at affordable prices. The drawback? A six-month growing season, from May through October. But with the Cape Breton farmers' market and a local bank providing microloans for farmers and producers to develop their businesses, Muise is optimistic that the island can become a center for artisan products in Eastern Canada.

Read the other posts in this series: Arriving in Nova Scotia and The View, Redux, Talk about Good Stuff! and A Forager Finds Home.

More Gratuitous Food Porn: Terrific Tomato Salad

Guess what? We're eating lots of grilled corn and tomatoes around here, savoring the flavors of late summer as long as we possibly can. This time our homegrown tomatoes appear in a salad with balsamic vinaigrette, and Dave threw a chicken on the grill to make the whole deal even better.

Tomato Salad with Balsamic Vinaigrette

Obviously this salad should be made from tomatoes picked off your own plants at the peak of the season or bought from your favorite farmer at the market. Different colors, sizes and types make it fun. Oh, and this is great served with bread, since the tomato juice and dressing in the bottom of the bowl is awesome for sopping.

2 tsp. garlic, minced
1/4 c. aged balsamic vinegar
1 Tbsp. Dijon mustard
3/4 c. olive oil
4-6 c. tomatoes, chopped
Salt and pepper, to taste

Put garlic into small mixing bowl. Add Dijon and vinegar and whisk to combine. Sloooowly drizzle in the olive oil while whisking like mad (this is best accomplished with help from an assistant, but it can be managed by yourself). The aim is to emulsify the mixture so the texture is thick and looks like peanut butter.

Put tomatoes in large salad bowl. Pour 1/2 c. of dressing over top and toss. Salt and pepper to taste. (Adjust amount of dressing to your liking.)

Gratuitous Seasonal Food Porn aka Dinner Last Night

Couldn't resist posting this: grilled local organic corn, garden tomatoes (Purple Cherokees, if you must know), pimientos de Padrón and…awesomeness itself…grilled pork belly. Truly and insanely delicious!

Garden 2012: The Harvest Hits

We leave town for a week and suddenly it's tomato season!

Can't ask for better timing than that, especially since a couple of years ago we left for a few days about this time of year and got a panicky call from our son, who was housesitting for us and had just collected a bushel of ripe tomatoes from the garden. "No problem," we said, sensing this was a perfect teachable moment. "Get a big pot, chunk up the tomatoes and simmer them over low heat. You'll have sauce in no time."

I've run the recipe below before, which is based on a Mark Bittman dish from his Minimalist days, but it's one of our all-time favorite, go-to weeknight dinners. And there's no better time to make it than when cherry tomatoes are popping out of the garden and flooding into farmers' markets!

Pasta with Cherry Tomatoes, Garlic and Anchovies

1 lb. dried pasta
2 Tbsp. olive oil
6 anchovy fillets (in oil or salt-packed)
2 Tbsp. chopped garlic
1 pint (2-3 cups) cherry tomatoes (larger tomatoes, roughly chopped, also work well)
2 c. chopped kale, chard, spinach or other greens (optional)
Salt and pepper to taste
Parmesan and/or pecorino cheese, grated

Bring large pot of salted water to boil.

While water is heating, heat olive oil in large skillet over medium heat until it shimmers. If using salt-packed anchovies, rinse and dry on a paper towel and proceed as with tinned anchovies. If using tinned anchovies, add without draining to skillet and sauté, breaking them up with a spatula until they dissolve (watch out for splattering). Add garlic and heat briefly, then add cherry tomatoes and reduce heat to simmer.

While tomatoes cook down, add pasta to boiling water and cook till al dente. While pasta cooks, add greens, if desired, to skillet and let them wilt. (To me, adding the greens makes a one-dish dinner, but it'd also be great with a green salad and bread.) Add salt and pepper to taste. When pasta is cooked, drain and put in serving bowl. Pour tomato mixture over top and toss gently. Sprinkle with cheese and serve more on the table.

Food Farmer Earth: Diversifying Helps Small Farm Thrive

"Diversifying my markets as a farmer has really helped me keep a cash flow coming in," said Theresa Draper of Draper Girls Country Farm in Parkdale, Oregon.

The second part of my interview with Theresa explores how she expanded her business from selling fruit at the family's farm stand to offering a u-pick option, and how she developed value-added products like cider, dried apples and jams. From there she started vending at farmers' markets, added a farm stay in the old family farmhouse and even sells the meat from her lambs.

Watch Part One of my interview with Theresa Draper of Draper Girls Country Farm. Read more about her and her farm.

Farm Bulletin: A Queen with a Pearl Collar

When one thinks of the residents of a farm, humans undoubtedly come first to mind. But other inhabitants, like animals, birds and insects, must also be counted, particularly when the farm uses organic methods. Few, though, are as critically important as the humble bumblebee. Contributor Anthony Boutard of Ayers Creek Farm sings its praises.

It is late summer and, as usual, members of Hymenoptera—the insect order that groups together the wasps, bees and ants—are putting on a show. About two weeks ago, a large cohort of male bumblebees emerged. Fidgety and playfully pugnacious, they fly about just inches above the ground, darting here and there, trying to stay out of reach of any remaining barn swallows seeking a quick snack on the way to Capistrano. Their shape, coloration and behavior is very different from the females of the colony—the queen and her daughters, the workers. The males do not have a stinger.

The male bumblebee develops from an unfertilized egg. In other words, denied sperm, an egg paradoxically yields a male. Fatherless male offspring is one of those peculiar twists that makes the Hymenoptera so interesting. Both the queen and her sisters can produce eggs, but only the queen has mated and produces fertilized eggs which develop into the females of the nest. The sperm from her nuptial flights is held in a special organ, and the eggs are fertilized as they are laid, or not in the case of males. Typically, the males appear toward the end of the colony's existence and may have hatched from an egg laid by either the queen or one of her daughters.

Despite their aimless flight pattern and endless tousling with their brethren, the males are ever alert for the emergence of a newly hatched queen, or gyne as entomologists call her, and the opportunity to mate with her. (Photo at top shows a Brown-belted bumblebee queen or gyne emerging from the nest hole.) Apparently, the males identify her by sight, not a chemical cue, which may explain why a hapless swallow-tail passing through earlier this week found itself mobbed by amorous bumblebees. Discovering this lek of bees, we shared with the males a keen interest in seeing the queens emerge, pausing to survey the area as we passed at various times during the day. The nest is in an old mouse hole in the heavily traveled lane between the blackberry fields. Monday the show began.

The new queens are genetically the same as the worker sorority; there is no special queen gene. They are raised in larger wax vessels than the workers, and they are fed more food during the larval stage. In order to survive the winter and a summer of laying eggs, a more robust body is needed. After emerging from their pupae, these large females linger in the nest and fatten up for a few days. They emerge from the nest, mostly individually, groom themselves and then take flight. In seconds, the males converge upon her and, in an airborne scrum, try to do the honors. Once a coupling occurs, the surplus males drift back to their posts and the job is finished on the ground. After mating, the queen quickly seeks shelter. She mates more than once and, well-provisioned with sperm, she will spend some time building her fat reserves for the winter hibernation. If all goes well, she will emerge from her hibernation lair in the spring and start a new colony.

We have at least four bumblebee species on the farm: the white-shouldered, black-tailed, yellow-faced and the brown-belted—the latter are the queens emerging this week. The scientific name is Bombus griseocollis and translates into "bumblebee with a pearl-grey neck," probably referring to a fine line of hairs that encircle the neckline of the females. The brown belt of the English name refers to a distinct band of brown hairs on the second abdominal section of the males, just behind the wings. (Photo at left, above, shows a Brown-belted bumblebee, Bombus griseocollis, male drone waiting for his gyne.) The newly emerged gyne is very beautiful. Her coat is much lighter than the male's or worker's. Interestingly, the male brown-belted bumblebees darting about are not merely callow Lotharios; it is one of four bumblebee species where the males actually assist in the nest by incubating the brood, an important task.

The bumblebees can be difficult to identify, prompting one entomologist to call them "morphologically monotonous." The key distinguishing characteristic are differences in the male genitalia, perhaps prompting this observation. Fortunately overall appearance is sometimes enough, and Rich Hatfield at the Xerces Society identified the bee for us from a photo. Xerces is based in Portland, and is internationally recognized for its efforts at invertebrate conservation. They have produced many useful publications, both in print and online, and issue a quarterly magazine called Wings. Xerces is a very important and well-run organization.

Photos by Anthony Boutard.

Cape Breton Island: Talk about Good Stuff!

Here's a brilliant idea: Ten well-known international chefs team up with ten local chefs to cook up a series of dinners, each one featuring the very best of the area's bounty. Not only that, but each dinner takes place at a spectacular local destination (Top photo: Dinner Under the Stars overlooking Bras d'Or Lake).

Outdoor dinner on the beach at Cabot Links, Inverness.

Get it? The visiting chefs experience ingredients right from the source and meet the people who grow it, fish it or produce it. In some instances they'll actually help with the harvest of a featured ingredient. Plus they get to collaborate in creating dishes with the men and women who work with these ingredients every day, not to mention the brewers, winemakers and distillers who turn grapes and grain into liquid magic.

Ocean perch ceviche at Bras d'Or Lake.

The local chefs get to express their passion for the region and its incredible producers, and work side by side with chefs from other places, sharing ideas and inspiration, creating dishes that meld the best of both worlds. And joining them are ten "aspiring" chefs who have been chosen from essays they wrote about why they wanted to participate in the event.

Well, if it sounds like it could only happen in a place as special as the Pacific Northwest, you'll have to think again. Because that's exactly what Pearleen Mofford did when she started the Right Some Good culinary festival in Cape Breton, Nova Scotia.

Chef Surjan Jolly of the Renaissance Marriott, Mumbai, with rock crab.

A relatively small island off the western coast of the peninsula that makes up the bulk of the province, it is home to just 100,000 resident. But the seafood that is fished off its coastline, including lobster, haddock, snow crab and ocean perch, is getting big notices across the world in no small part because of the festival, which just finished its second year.

Restaurant Take-Over at the Keltic Lodge, Ingonish.

With a booming fishing industry and a nascent artisan agricultural movement that's shaping up to be the next big thing for the island, this year's festival boasted that 80 percent of the ingredients used were from local sources (up from 65 percent its first year).

Candlelight dinner at the Louisbourg Fortress.

The festival draws not just international chefs, but travelers from around the globe who come for the event and stay to tour the island, then go home to share the amazing experiences they've had. There are also a host of media people who are brought in to taste and tour, and I was lucky enough to be one of those at this year's event, attending four dinners and meeting farmers, fishers and producers from around the area courtesy of Tourism Cape Breton.

And the name Right Some Good? Even it's a nod to local, being one of the superlatives islanders use to denote quality, starting with "good," "some good," "right some good," and "right some Jesus good." My opinion? I'd say that next year's festival deserves the latter descriptor.

Read the other posts in this series: Arriving in Nova Scotia, The View, Redux, Stirrings of an Artisan Economy and A Forager Finds Home.