Not Just Another Cuppa Joe

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

Evan evaluating the aroma of the dry coffee.

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

Joel discussing the fine points of the roast.

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

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

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

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

Even Dozen at 3 Weeks

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

Thought you'd like a peek.

More Meatballs, but Chicken This Time

A previous post on meatballs began with an ageless ditty. This one starts with more plebeian concerns, in other words, "What's for dinner?"

Uninspired described it perfectly. It was one of those nights when it was little muggy and sticky (I can hear you Midwesterners snickering, you know) for spring in Oregon, and nothing was sounding particularly tasty in the dinner department.

But I had to go to the store anyway, and I remembered a recipe for chicken meatballs by Pete Wells in the last New York Times Sunday Magazine that looked easy. It would be lighter than beef, and we had most of the rest of the ingredients, though it called for dipping them in lime raita, not so Dave-friendly. Then I recalled that my brother had recently posted a recipe for remoulade sauce (left) that he was touting as better than tartar sauce. So, since I'm always open to putting more mayo in our diets, I thought I'd give it a try.

Oh, and the meatball recipe says it serves four, but it barely covered the three of us for dinner, which included a hearty beet and green salad. (So four babies, maybe, Mr. Wells, but not four hungry adults.) It would also make a great small app for a dinner party, and we may pull it out for the back yard this summer.

Chicken Meatballs with Chives and a Spicy Remoulade
Meatball recipe adapted from Pete Wells of the New York Times. Remoulade from "Fish Without a Doubt" by Rick Moonen and Roy Finamore.

For the remoulade:
1 c. mayonnaise
3 anchovy fillets
2 Tbsp. minced cornichons
1 Tbsp. nonpareil capers
Grated zest of 1/2 lemon
1-1/2 tsp. fresh lemon juice
1 tsp. Dijon mustard
6 dashes Tabasco
1 tbsp chopped fresh parsley or chervil
2 tsp chopped fresh dill
1 tsp. or more harissa
Coarse salt or freshly ground pepper

For the meatballs:
1/2 c. (about 1 slice) white bread, crust removed
2-4 Tbsp. milk
1 lb. boneless, skinless chicken thighs
2 Tbsp. minced chives
1 Tbsp. finely chopped fresh tarragon, basil and mint, or other mixed herbs
1 tsp. kosher salt
1/8 tsp. black pepper
1/4 tsp. seeded and minced fresh serrano chilies or other hot peppers
Olive oil

For the remoulade: Whisk the mayonnaise, anchovies, cornichons, capers, lemon zest and juice, mustard, Tabasco, parsley or chervil, dill, and harissa together in a bowl. Taste, and adjust the harissa for spiciness [I doubled it - KAB], keeping in mind that the heat will develop as the sauce sits. Season with salt and pepper. Cover and refrigerate for at least one hour before serving. The remoulade will keep for at least a week. [I'll double it next time to have some left over - KAB]

For the meatballs: Cover the bread with as much of the milk as it will absorb. Let it soak while you prep the rest of the ingredients. Squeeze the bread to wring out the milk, then drop it into a mixing bowl. Mash it thoroughly with a fork and add the chicken, chives, herbs, salt, pepper and chilies, if using. Mash and mix it all together with the fork. Wet your hands and roll meatballs, about an inch across, and fry them, turning every few minutes to brown the entire surface, 7 to 10 minutes. Transfer to a plate and serve with the remoulade.

Chicken meatballs photo by Tony Cenicola for The New York Times. Remoulade photo from Eat. Drink. Think.

Thoughts On: Birth and Death on a Farm, Pt. 2

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

It always seems that just when you think you have everything figured out and under control that nature reminds you otherwise. Earlier this spring, we were milking cows one morning and one was missing. After almost an hour of searching, we found her drowned in our little creek.

Chrissie in her farm store.

The cows have had continuous access to this creek for more than two years and have never had any trouble with it; the water was not particularly high; it's a very small creek, only six feet wide or so and no deeper than boots for most of its length, but it does have one deep swimming hole in it. Poor thing, if she had found her way a few feet up or downstream, she would've been fine.

But finding a pet cow dead is just the beginning: hauling a 900-pound carcass out of a creek is a serious engineering challenge requiring heavy equipment and almost a whole day's work to remove her body, bring it up the hill, dig a deep hole, and bury her. Thank goodness for good neighbors and their backhoe. We replaced her with a new cow, "Token," who is just a lovely, lovely, gentle cow. We wouldn't have met Token if not for the other drowned cow.

We have built two very large greenhouses (top photo) with our own hands: 30 by 144 feet, and 30 by 98 feet, and have had Mother Nature crush them both, first by wind and then by snow. We thought we needed the greenhouses for hay storage and for meat chicken shelters; instead, we replaced the greenhouses with an irrigation system that uses our gray water from the milking parlor and poultry processing plant to irrigate our new 100-tree mixed fruit orchard that we planted this spring. We wouldn't have the orchard if it weren't for the end of the greenhouses.



Similarly, some of you may remember our dreadful behemoth first delivery turck, the Snap-On Tool truck. This truck cost $4,000 when we bought it, had only one seat and seatbelt, no heating, no air conditioning, and numerous mechanical problems and failures that cost over $5,000 to repair in the first year and added nothing to its value.

Deciding to retire the dreaded beast and purchase a much nicer and newer Isuzu NPR commercial truck with three seats and seatbelts, heater and air conditioning, and a 14-foot delivery box, felt very scary in October, 2008: nobody was buying cars or trucks then, remember? But the new truck has been wonderfully reliable, and when we filed our taxes we were surprised to find we had been "stimulated" to the tune of being able to write down 50% depreciation the first year for a business vehicle purchase.

That stimulus bonus funded the stainless steel wall remodelling of our poultry processing plant, hopefully opening up the possibility of having it licensed half of the year for poultry processing, and half of the year as a winery for meadmaking: this became a big factor in making our biggest "new beginnings" decision of all: to transition away from Cornish cross chickens.

Top photo by Frederick Joe, The Oregonian.

Rosti Toasty

Like the video below that takes an everyday object like a sticky note and turns it into something extraordinary, Donald Kotler of Toast has done something of the kind with the potato.

Now, I'm a big fan of the tuber in all its forms, whether mashed, cubed, shredded or creamed, fried, baked, boiled or roasted. It's a nearly perfect food, used as a thickener for soups and sauces, a side dish for all kinds of meats and even as a meal in itself. And, no, I'm not counting a giant basket of fries with a beer as a meal, though that has, at times, been known to occur.

What Kotler has done with mere shredded potatoes is nothing short of magical, and maybe even miraculous. I'd heard his rosti (or rösti or röschti in Swiss and Swiss German, respectively) was a pretty fine example of the art of the potato, and expected some variant on what we all know as hash browns. Boy howdy, was I wrong.

These bad boys are to hash browns what Oscar Meyer is to prosciutto di Parma, i.e. barely on the same planet. Golden, crunchy and richly buttery outside, this little cake also manages to be creamy and warm inside, the shreds of potato almost dissolving in your mouth. It comes with many of the breakfast entrees, but it's worth ordering an extra just to make sure you get enough (or to keep your dining companions from gobbling bites of yours).

In related news, Toast is now open for dinner Wednesday through Friday from 5:30 till 9 pm. Read my previous review of a dynamite dinner I had there.

Details: Toast, 5222 SE 52nd Ave. Phone 503-774-1020. Breakfast Wed.-Sun., 8 am-2 pm; dinner Wed.-Fri., 5:30-9 pm.

In Season NW: Peas, Please!

We're lucky here in Portland that many of our restaurants get their produce from the same local farmers who are found at our farmers' markets, making it easy to duplicate a dish you've swooned over. Contributor Jim Dixon of RealGoodFood did just that recently.

I ate sugar snap peas with mint and piment d’espelette at Laurelhurst Market last week, so when I saw the peas at the Viridian Farms stand at the Portland Farmers Market Saturday, I grabbed a few a pints (Viridian also grows and dries the Basque peppers, and I had vial of the mild red chile in my kitchen already). Since I was already in the middle of a vegetable grillfest, I cooked the pea pods over the coals using a wok-like grill pan. And while I was picking the mint, I added a few leaves of the lemon verbena growing nearby.

Sugar Snap Peas with Mint, Lemon Verbena, and Piment d’Espelette

Make a salsa verde by finely chopping about a cup of fresh mint leaves with a 5-6 leaves of lemon verbena and a large shallot. Add about a quarter cup of extra virgin olive oil (I used the Katz Meyer Lemon olive oil) and a half teaspoon or so of piment d’espelette.

Trim the stem ends of the sugar snap peas. Before grilling, toss with a drizzle of oil, then cook in the grill basket over direct heat for about 5 minutes, stirring often. If you're cooking on the stovetop, sauté in olive oil for a few minutes, or drop into boiling salted water. However you cook them, do it quickly.

Toss the pea pods with the salsa verde and serve immediately.

Do I Know This Feeling!

I've been freelancing for more than two decades, first in advertising and now as a writer. Call it performance anxiety, call it procrastination, but I always face a deadline with sweat on my brow and desperation in my gut. It's nice to know that I'm not alone!

Call Me a Luddite

Luddite pron. \ˈlə-ˌdīt\ ; noun; origin: perhaps from Ned Ludd, 18th century Leicestershire workman who destroyed a knitting frame in 1811: One of a group of early 19th century English workmen destroying laborsaving machinery as a protest; broadly: one who is opposed to technological change

To that I would add: "One who is especially fond of heat and smoke as applied to the preparation of food; esp. as found at Ned Ludd in Portland."

Last night was one of those evenings where dinner was an up-for-grabs question, where no one was stepping up to the proverbial plate with anything remotely promising, so a last-ditch brainstorming session was called. Where it came from I don't remember, but someone said, "How about that Ned Ludd place? " and everyone just kind of nodded.

Which is how we found ourselves standing before the large-windowed, metal-sided barnlike structure that houses Ned Ludd on a busy stretch of MLK just north of Fremont. Warmly (but not dimly) lit with a DIY decor that includes an odd assortment of cast-off chandeliers from the Rebuilding Center, the dominant impression is of a woodpile, albeit a very comfortable and well-arranged one, if that's possible.

The reason is because there's wood everywhere, and I'm not talking about the weathered siding on the walls but honest-to-goodness chunks of logs and branches like you'd throw on a campfire. The service bar is the main feature of the dining room, basically a counter-topped framework that holds the stacked wood used in the large brick oven that takes up most of the wall behind it and is the only source of heat to cook the food that chef Ben Meyer single-handedly hauls in and out of the fiery furnace.

And I'm here to tell you that the food is spectacular. Not in an über-sophisticated, highly condimented way, mind you, but where the elements of a dish are married to make a totally delicious, deeply flavored experience bite after bite. For instance, my ruby trout (above right), roasted and set on a spring onion, fennel, lemon and tarragon gratin was simple, seasonal and phenomenally satisfying.

The head cheese on toast appetizer, which Ben said he made in honor of their first whole hog, was served with a thin slice of pickled onion and mustard, but one bite and the experience of having the salty, herb-infused gelled broth melt on my tongue leaving the meaty bits to chew on obviated the need for any accompaniment, even bread. The fresh baby bok choy salad with sesame oil and Ben's crispy duck chips (my new favorite snack food...where do I buy more?) was a fantastic combination, fresh and light and crunchy.

Equally satisfactory was the (house-made, of course) pancetta-draped game hen on a garlic chard sauté (above left). I've never seen Dave devour chicken as eagerly as this, if that gives any indication of how good it was.

Ben said they're just waiting for OLCC approval to open the large patio out front and plan to have a separate menu of very simple grilled food and cold drinks featuring local beers. I nearly leaned over and laid a big wet one on him when he assured me there would be no PBR in sight, instead proferring Old Speckled Hen as the house brew, one of my very favorite malt beverages.

In the meantime, get in and have some food and a brew (they also have aperitifs and wine), and I'd especially recommend trying a pint of the brand new Upright Brewing #6, a rye-based beer that is nicely dry and startlingly tasty.

Details: Ned Ludd, 3925 NE Martin Luther King Jr Blvd. Phone 503-288-6900.

Getting a Head

Fellow blogger (and brother of Loo) Hank Shaw, of the Beard-nominated blog Hunter, Angler, Gardener, Cook, is one of the most adventurous eaters/cooks I know. Game is his middle name, and if he can kill it he'll find a way to use everything from head to tail and make it look and sound delicious. Recently he went boar hunting and decided to make his first batch of head cheese. An excerpt follows:

I’d never done this before. After all, who wants to eat something called "head cheese?” But Maximus was not a large boar, and I wanted to to use everything I could — besides, Maximus had impressive tusks, so I want to make a skull mount, and you need to simmer off all the meat to do that.

Let’s start with the head itself. All hog’s heads are not created equal. And I have been fortunate to have the two extremes of the porcine world in my kitchen: Maximus the Wild Boar, and a Mangalitsa pig’s head. Wild boar, especially real Eurasian boar, are generally devoid of fat. Mangalitsas, on the other hand, may be the fattiest pigs in the world.


Note the difference in the back of the head. There is more fat on the back of the head of the Mangalitsa at right than there is in the whole body of the boar at left. This matters, as it will make the coppa di testa from Maximus very, very lean. Which, ironically, is good — all the recipes I read say to remove most of the fat when making brawn. So there you have it: Wild boar make better brawn.

But there’s one problem: Domestic pigs, and especially the snub-nosed Mangalitsas, have short little snouts. Wild boar have extremely long snouts, lined with vicious tusks. You will need a bigger pot than you think.

For the rest of the story, more pictures and a description of how it all turns out, read Wild Boar Testa: Don't call me head cheese.

The Garden, Week 8: Tomatoes in Bondage

It had to happen sometime. We coddled them, cooed over them, fed them their favorite foods. But it's time for them to deal with the harsh realities of life, face the music, do or die.

Nighttime lows have crept up into the mid-50s here in the northern Willamette Valley and it looks likely to stay that way for the duration. So off came the Walls O' Water and in went the heavy-duty cages we got last year that seemed to hold up much better than those wimpy little circular cages. Tomatoes, you're on your own!

Second crops of radishes and greens also went in, which might or might not do well depending on how hot it gets and how soon, and the peas are starting to blossom. The peppers are just kind of sitting there until it starts baking, and then we'll see if they've got the right stuff. (C'mon, Jimmy Nardello's!)

In Season NW: Market Roundup

Can you hear it? That slight rumble in the distance, like a thunderstorm on the other side of the mountains that gradually builds to a deafening roar. It takes a couple of months to reach full pitch, but what you're hearing is the tsunami of fresh produce that's starting to pour into local farmers' markets. Last month the rhubarb trickled in with late winter greens and spring onions. Now we're seeing the first of the Oregon strawberries, soon to be followed by blueberries, raspberries, giant heads of lettuce and a a catalog of peppers and melons.

Hollywood Farmers' Market: It was garlic shoots both straight and curly, spring onions and vegetable starts at Gales Meadow Farms. More exotic greens were on display at Blooming Goodies, and Seng Lee and her nephew (top photo) were excitedly describing magnificent stir-fries that could be made with their pea shoots, gai lan, amaranth, curly Thai flowers, ong choy, basil and mint.

Saturdays from 8:30 am-1 pm on NE Hancock between 44th and 45th Aves. in the Hollywood neighborhood.

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Lloyd Farmers' Market: Almost literally hidden between big office buildings in a small park just south of Lloyd Center in Northeast Portland, this market is made up of vendors hand-picked for the quality of their products. From pastries and luscious lunch crepes you can pick up something to munch on while you shop. And that's just what manager Eamon Molloy wants you to do. He's even been known to send photos of vendors from his Blackberry to lure customers. The photo at right came with the description "Kirk & Julie of Red Tree Farm work 2 acres on Sauvie Island, commuting from N Portland. They brought salad greens, radishes and eggs this week."

Tuesdays from 10am-2pm in Oregon Square on NE Holladay St. between 7th and 9th Aves.

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People's Farmers' Market: An old-world charm gushes from the humming little market that clusters around People's Co-op in this densely populated Southeast Portland neighborhood. Young women with babies on their tattooed hips, men with more silver in their ears than most people will wear in a year and all of whom exude an earnest happiness gather and laugh and talk local politics. My favorite vendor is Herman Obrist (left), whose gentle Swiss accent and sparkling blue eyes twinkle when he describes coming to Oregon in the middle of the last century with his wife, Lydia, and settling on his farm in Gaston. His honey is renowned for its subtle sweetness and an aroma of a field of flowers.

Wednesdays from 2-7 pm at People's Co-op, 3029 SE 21st, between Powell and Division.

Thoughts On: Birth and Death on a Farm, Pt. 1

Chrissie Zaerpoor, farmer, cheesemaker, up-and-coming mead producer and one of the hardest-working women I know, began Kookoolan Farms in Yamhill with her husband Koorosh in order to build a life and a business together that they could be proud of. Here she reflects on what they've learned about the cycles of life on the farm.

A bittersweet cycle of beginnings and endings
By Chrissie Manion Zaerpoor

"Living in the country" conjures up such a lovely, pastoral image for most of us: fresh, soft mornings, baby animals, the bounty of harvesting from gardens and orchards, the rhythm of daily and seasonal chores, a slower pace and a deeper connection to community, land and food.

And indeed the joys of farming encompass all of these experiences. But yin and yang apply to farming, and the joys come with costs. "A deeper connection" implies a deeper intimacy, to the dark and difficult side as well as to the joyous side. Intimacy comes only with a deeper commitment and connection, and that means not turning away from the aspects that we were most sheltered from when we lived in town.

Our first cow, Pretty Girl, calved easily; she was an Angus, and it was a little bull calf. Neither animal was particularly tame, and we weren't able to get that close. Several months later, our first dairy cow, Ariba (top photo), calved. Again, it was an easy delivery; it was her fourth calf, and the little female, Shasta, was a beauty. Both mother and baby were very tame. We were in the barn stall when Ariba birthed; we bottle-fed Shasta for weeks.

Later, we had difficult births with our goats. Much smaller animals, the young mothers labored to push out their first babies, and the older animals struggled with multiple births. One doe delivered quintuplets.

These emergencies force new farmers into the role of midwife or obstetrician; let me tell you that a background in physics or engineering does NOT prepare you for veterinary duties. A neighbor, a customer and I worked hard for five hours on a very cold night to untangle and remove the five babies from the goat's womb; three survived.

Our neighbor, a big friendly Italian named Sal Eramo, came right over when I called. He held up a hand the size of a bear paw next to my slender wrist and said, "I can tell you what to do, but you're going to have to do this yourself, capiche?"

A year later Sal called and asked for Chrissie's small arms to help deliver lambs from a ewe who was having trouble.

A box of day-old baby chicks is the cutest thing in the world. A box of baby chicks that was on a cart not properly strapped into the mail service truck containing a dozen or so mashed, bruised and dismembered bodies is not.

Barn cat kittens, born in the chickens' nest boxes and partially-reared by hens, were the cutest things in the world. Mature cats preying upon a brooder full of day-old chicks as though it were an arcade game at a county fair, was a dreadful massacre to behold.



In fact, chickens open up a whole world of predator-prey relationships that we were blissfully ignorant of in town. We have learned to identify the predator by the calling card it leaves behind: owls peck a hole in the top of the chicken's skull; skunks eat just the head and gullet; cats eat all the internal organs and sometimes the flesh meats; raccoons drag their prey down to the creek where they can wash it in the water. Coyotes take the whole carcass, whether it's a chicken or a lamb, and leave not a trace behind.

Learning to identify who's taking the chickens is crucial for beginning farmers who are just learning how to have the stomach to fight back. 

As educated liberals who never owned guns before, we had a lot to learn, and had to make significant changes in our own world views. We also learned, as Joel Salatin rightly points out in his writings, that it's an interesting irony that the people most likely to buy our food and to appreciate the benefits to animal and man of having pasture-raised foods are in fact the people most likely to support and vote for legislation that makes it most difficult to fight the predators. (And that included us.)

Stay tuned for Part 2: A Cow Goes Missing and One Thing Leads To Another.

Truly Verde Enchiladas

Apologies to Al Gore, but reducing your carbon footprint is so last year. Anyone who's been even vaguely listening in the last few months is hearing the growing chorus of voices from the likes of Michael Pollan, Barbara Kingsolver and, most recently, New York Times columnist Mark Bittman about bringing green to the table. And they're not just talking parsley.

The chicken mixture with extra roasted tomatillos (at top in photo) for a future batch!

Even Monsanto is trying to (falsely) jump on the bandwagon with a new tagline that trumpets the giant agrichemical, GMO-promoting corporation as "committed to sustainable agriculture." Though I almost threw an (organically grown) tomato at the radio when I heard that on NPR's business show, Marketplace, yesterday. (Don't they vet those sponsor taglines for accuracy?)

But I digress. The point of this post is to share a recipe for chicken verde enchiladas that I stitched together, Frankenstein-like, from a recipe from my brother's friend Shauneen (about 75%), a recent batch of tomatillo salsa from Mark Bittman (15%) and my own messing around (10%, if that).

Assembled and ready to go in the oven.

And yes, nearly all of the ingredients are organically grown (though not necessary certified). The brilliant thing about Shauneen's recipe was that it called for a roasted deli chicken instead of a) roasting it just for this recipe, way too much trouble for me, and b) using leftovers, still a good idea but we often don't have enough remaining.

To make it Dave-safe, I used extra-sharp cheddar (a serious transgression, I know, but fake cheese is worse) and tofu sour cream (from Tofutti, my fave fake product) for garnish. Otherwise, like I said, totally green!

Chicken Verde Enchiladas
From a variety of sources (see above)

For the roasted tomatillo chile salsa:
1 lb. tomatillos, husked and rinsed
1 yellow onion, peeled, sliced and quartered
4 garlic cloves
2 ancho chiles, roasted, skins removed, stemmed and seeded
2 tsp. ground cumin
1 tsp. salt (plus more to taste)
1/2 c. chopped cilantro leaves
1 lime, juiced

For the enchiladas:
2 Tbsp. vegetable oil
1/2 med. onion, diced
3 garlic cloves, chopped
1 1/2 tsp. ground cumin
1/4 c. all-purpose flour
2 c. chicken stock
1 roasted chicken (from the deli, about 3 pounds), boned, meat shredded
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
10 lg. (approx. 8" diam.) flour tortillas
1/2 lb. Monterey Jack cheese, shredded
2 c. sour cream
Chopped tomatoes and cilantro leaves, for garnish
Guacamole, optional

Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. On a baking tray, roast tomatillos, quartered onion and garlic for 15 minutes. Transfer the roasted vegetables and any juices on the bottom of the tray to a food processor. Add the roasted chiles, cumin, salt, cilantro, and lime juice and pulse mixture until well combined but still a little chunky. Add more salt to taste.

Meanwhile heat the vegetable oil in a large, deep frying pan over medium heat. Add the onion and cook until soft and caramelized, about 5 to 7 minutes. Add the garlic and cumin then cook for a further minute. Sprinkle on the flour and stir to ensure the flour doesn't burn, then very gradually add the chicken stock to make a veloute. Continue stirring over a low simmer until the flour cooks and the liquid thickens. Turn off the heat, add half of the roasted tomatillo chile salsa and fold in the shredded chicken meat. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Lower the temperature of the oven to 350° and begin assembling the dish. Take a 9" by 12" baking dish and smear the bottom with some of the reserved tomatillo salsa. Take the flour tortillas and coat each tortilla lightly with the reserved salsa mix. Put a scoop of the shredded chicken-enchilada mix on top of the tortilla followed by a sprinkle of the shredded cheese. Fold the tortilla over the filling and roll like a cigar to enclose it. Line up the tortillas in the baking dish and continue to do the same with all the tortillas. Finally pour over the remaining salsa, spread evenly and top with the remaining shredded cheese. Bake uncovered for about 30-45 minutes until bubbly and cracked on top. Garnish with cilantro and tomato.

Serve hot with sour cream and fresh guacamole, if desired. (Chipotle sauce also adds a nice smokiness.)

Livin' in the Blurbs: Summer Pursuits

Always dreamed of living on a little farm in the countryside, growing your own food and raising livestock but you just can't quite swing the logistics? Find out what three city-dwellers are doing to realize their dreams right in the middle of densely populated Portland. Slow Food Portland is sponsoring a family-paced, three-mile bike tour of three urban homesteads on June 28. Columbia Ecovillage will show off their cooperative farm, Glen Andresen will share his urban apiary and Harriet Fasenfest of Preserve will talk about householding and putting up food.

Details: Grow by Bike: An Urban Homesteading Bike Tour. Sunday, June 28, 9:30-noon; $5, tickets available online.

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It's all-organic, all the time at the North American Organic Brewers Festival at Overlook Park the weekend of June 26 through 29. It's bigger and better than ever this year, with 42 breweries from all over the globe bringing (at last count) 78 beers to this festival celebrating the goodness that is organic beer. In its fifth year, the beers will cover the gamut from pilsner to porter, amber ale to Belgian wit with plenty of Northwest India Pale Ales thrown into the mix. Don't miss it!

Details: North American Organic Brewers Festival. June 26-28; noon-9 pm Fri.-Sat., noon-5 pm Sun.; free, with $6 for participation in beer tasting and $1 a ticket for samples. Overlook Park, 1301 N. Fremont St. at the intersection with Interstate Ave.

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Gardening season has taken off at full speed, but you can still jump on the train with the great classes at Farmington Gardens in Beaverton. The instruction is geared to everyone from beginning gardeners to those with a few seasons under their belts, and they are totally free (though preregistration is encouraged), so check out the upcoming schedule:

• July 18, 10 am: Creating a Children’s Garden with Kristien Forness, Landscape Designer
• July 26, 1 pm: Succulent Container Gardens with Leah McDonald
• August. 2, noon: Eating Seasonally from the Garden with Rose Marie Nichols McGee
• August 15, 1 pm: Improving the Value of Your Home Through Landscaping with Vicki Burr and Ron Phillips

Details: Classes at Farmington Gardens. Free with preregistration. Farmington Gardens, 21815 SW Farmington Rd. Phone 503-649-4568.

Dairy Report: LeVan Speaks His Mind

Self-described Cheese Czarina Lisa Jacobs of Jacobs Creamery reminds us that being a farmers' market vendor is not all tea and crumpets. Remember, you can find her booth at the PSU, Hollywood, Milwaukie, Hillsdale, King, Eastbank and Lake Oswego farmers' markets.

This week LeVan du Fromage (similar to photo, above) and I had a real bonding moment. Like when you go through a catastrophic event with someone, we are a little more bonded together now after we got through our episode of being stuck on the side of the freeway Sunday night at 11:15.

In all fairness, he gave me warning on Saturday after the markets when the temperature gauge when through the roof and steam was streaming from the engine. I stopped where I was and called my Dad [Michael Jacobs of The Smokery].

"Dad, quick! I need two gallons of water!"

"Lisa, its OK, I already made some Gatorade and you can have some when you get here."

"Dad, I'm stuck behind Fred Meyer! I need water for LeVan...steam is coming out of the engine and green stuff is peeing out the front end!" (It appeared that LeVan doesn't like the hot weather, and chose this particular time to declare he had a hole.)

Then Sunday night as I was heading home after six markets and the final unload, sort, count and cheese-making I was not as good-humored when the incident happened again, seeing as my Dad was now in Vegas, my ex-boyfriends were in another state and Peter was all the way back in White Salmon. And unfortunately I can't tilt my cab forward to get to the radiator myself.

So I called the police with the idea that they would help, at least blocking traffic from hitting me and LeVan and secretly thinking that I could get them to help me tilt the cab. Officer Bailey was an "I follow the book" kind of officer (go figure) and needed a lot more cajoling than I initially thought. He wanted to call AAA and I wanted to get my cab tilted so I could add water and get home. Finally I explained that AAA doesn't cover box vans, so I won.

As it happens he was more frightened of the engine than I was, but I told him what to do and he listened. So thanks to Officer Bailey and my 5-gallon hand washing station, I had enough water to get me home. The next day LeVan went to the doctor and seems to be much better after having a new heater core installed.

Time to Get Cheesy!

Tami Parr just posted a notice on her Pacific NW Cheese Project that it's time for the annual Tillamook Macaroni and Cheese Recipe Contest. Note the deadline is Monday, August 17th, though mail entries must be postmarked by August 12th. For all the info, check the contest website. Thanks, Tami!

CAVA Closing Tonight

Our friend Amy Ruppel just sent an e-mail letting us know that tonight is the last night to go in and get CAVA's amazing mushroom bruschetta, to sit in the warm glow of the dining room with so many other eastsiders and enjoy a place that exuded that certain Portland charm, with none of the pretense, the trying-too-hard-to-be-hip attitude found at so many other places.

In her message, Amy outlines the reasons for the closure:

"Blame it on the 'economic crisis,' or the location, or what have you.... the business is just not pulling in what it needs/used to, and the costs heavily outweigh the intake. We've stayed open as long as we could, digging deep into our own pockets to try to keep it all running, but to no avail.

"It's sad, for last night we actually had a good amount of folks come in. And they loved it. And we know people love it, and they (and us) will be very upset about this closure. It makes me ill to think about all the work and love we put into that place, only to have it fade away and become another statistic.

"I wish I had a million dollars, or an investor in these crazy times, to keep it all afloat and keep everyone happily fed, and the staff employed. But in the end, we need to save CAVA from delving deeper into debt."

We'll miss you and the staff that made it such a special place, Amy.

Details: Cava Tavern, 5339 SE Foster at 53rd. Phone 503-206-8615

An Even Dozen

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WARNING: CUTENESS ALERT!!!
ANYONE SUSCEPTIBLE TO ATTACKS OF PUPPY-ITIS WHEN CONFRONTED WITH EXTREME CUTENESS, PLEASE AVERT YOUR EYES!

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A dozen eggs, no problem. A dozen donuts, OK. Even a dozen guests at a dinner party, though it would be a stretch. But a dozen puppies? Out of one not-so-big Corgi? That I had to see.

And frankly, I would have gone to see them anyway, since the breeder is a friend and her dog (dog people call them "bitches" in a non-judgmental way, but I've never become accustomed to that usage), Crystal, is a lovely merle girl, always full of wiggles and kisses.

So, for the puppy lovers among you, enjoy. These little guys are a whole six days old. And for the record, there are two merles and ten black-and-white puppies, with four girls and eight boys. Be assured more pictures will be forthcoming.

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END OF ALERT.
WE NOW RETURN YOU TO YOUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED BLOG.

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David Anderson's New Baby

Though this isn't the kind of blog where you come to read the latest gossip about Portland's food scene, there's been an exciting development for someone I've got a huge amount of respect and admiration for. David Anderson, the chef de cuisine at Vindalho, has decided to leave the restaurant he helped craft into the city's go-to spot for great Indian-inspired cuisine.

A new opportunity presented itself when he met former Nike exec Rudy Chapa and his wife, attorney Patricia Eiting, dedicated SE Portland residents who'd just purchased the much-beloved Genoa with the intention of reopening it. Anderson, just past his 30th birthday, had ideas he'd wanted to put into practice and impressed the couple with his experience and drive.

The magic happened, Anderson gave his notice at Vindalho and is currently on board as executive chef and general manager with an equity stake in the business. The plan is to reopen Genoa in November along with a second concept, an Italian-style enoteca/bar, in the space next door. We can only wish him the best, and look forward to toasting his success!

Musical Interlude

Our friend Bob makes the coolest posters for gigs with his band, Blutonic. Had to share!

Cabbage Fit for a King

I've been revisiting my love of coleslaw lately, so when I read this recipe from Jim Dixon of RealGoodFood and then saw, to my amazement, that he included the addictively delicious bread and butter jalapeños made by Barb and Dave Barber, I just had to tell you about it.

I was making a batch of my semi-creamy coleslaw last week, and there in the refrigerator was a container of the incredibly tasty bread and butter jalapenos from Picklopolis at the Portland Farmers Market at PSU. Mashup ensues:

Semi-Spicy, Semi-Creamy Coleslaw

Dissolve about a tablespoon of sugar and good pinch of sea salt (kosher salt also works) in a half cup or so of Katz Gravenstein Apple Cider vinegar. Add a cup or so of extra virgin olive oil and stir well.

Chop a head of green cabbage and add to dressing. Drain the brine from about a cup of bread and butter jalapenos into the slaw, then chop the jalapenos and add them. Stir in a couple of dollops of mayo, more or less, depending on how creamy you like your slaw.

Sunriver Sojourn

Like Blanche DuBois, we have been fortunate to experience the beneficence of strangers as well as the charitable acts of friends and family. This last weekend was a case in point, when our friends K&J invited us to join them for the weekend at a condo they'd rented at Sunriver, the 3,300-acre development along the Deschutes River just south of Bend.

The river at the marina.

I'd heard good things about it from friends who'd gone, but had never actually set foot on the property. And I have to admit a certain prejudice against gated communities full of SUVs, pristine swimming pools and golf courses (three plus one nine-hole "links" course). But a free weekend away from home with friends and the guarantee of great food and drink, plus a blogging opportunity? We couldn't say "Yes, please!" fast enough.

A hike along the river with a view of the lava beds.

Anyone who's been to Central Oregon knows there is virtually an unlimited number of outdoor activities available, from hiking, biking and swimming to skiing, camping, horsebackriding and boating. And, aside from camping and skiing, almost all of those activities are available without leaving the Sunriver property. With miles of bike and walking paths, many through undeveloped open land, it was pretty stunning, even for a skeptic like me.

Serious steakage.

Our first day, after a walk on the paved paths down to the marina through pastoral fields dotted with horses grazing on lush grass, we came back and launched into a round of Dave's cocktails before a dinner of grilled steaks, market asparagus and rhubarb crisp. (See what I mean about the food and drinks with this crowd?) A dip in the hot tub (and no, no nudity, thanks!) and we were out like lights when we finally hit the sheets.

What else? Beer!

The next day involved a spectacular 4-mile hike along the Deschutes (pron. duh-SHOOTS) and the lava beds surrounding the Newberry Volcanic Monument. On the way back we stopped in Bend for lunch and brews on the deck overlooking the river at Bend Brewing, wondering why more pubs in Portland don't have food that good.

By the time we made a long farewell bike tour around the property on our last morning, admiring the wildlife and beauty of this stunningly designed property, we'd grown to appreciate it, even thinking that there might just be another trip here in our future.

Great Grain

With the weather creeping toward summerlike, I'm thinking more about cool salads and picnics in a park, not to mention easy but impressive side dishes I can take to potluck dinners. This recipe for farro salad fits all those categories, and is perfect for any vegetarians in the crowd. And yes, I've posted this recipe before, but it's just so good I have to share it again.

Farro & Pecorino Salad
From Luan Schooler

1 c. whole grain Farro
Salted water
4 oz. good aged pecorino, cut into little cubes
1 c. halved cherry tomatoes
1/4 c. oil-cured olives, pitted & chopped roughly
A handful of basil leaves
6 tablespoons (more or less) of good, full flavored olive oil
Salt and fresh cracked pepper to taste

Cook the farro in the salted water at a bare simmer until just tender. Drain well and spread on a baking sheet to cool (or, if you're in a hurry, run under cold water and drain thoroughly). Gently combine the farro, cheese, tomatoes and olives. Drizzle with olive oil—start with about 4 tablespoons, let it sit a few minutes, taste and add some more if it seems dry. Tear basil leaves and fold into salad, then season with salt and pepper to taste.