Livin' in the Blurbs: Holidays and the Harvest Season

Though it's hard to believe, Thanksgiving is fast approaching, and to me that means it's time to think about what's going to be served at my holiday table. And because we're at the height of harvest time at most area farmers' markets, that means an opportunity to pick up the squash and brussels sprouts I'll be needing for the occasion. The Beaverton Farmers' Market will be open for the next three Saturdays, with a special Halloween Market on Oct. 30, with a children's activity tent and the promise of more pumpkins than you've likely ever seen in one place. A Harvest Market will mark the end of the season on Saturday, Nov. 20, with your best chance to get the freshest produce from local farmers and holiday trimmings to set the stage. Check your local market's website to find out what it has planned for the holidays!

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And speaking of the good things that will grace your table and fill your family's bellies, Chrissie at Kookoolan Farms has alerted me that she has just sealed a deal for 50 additional Bronze heritage breed and White Broadbreasted turkeys for the holidays. "All of our turkeys have been truly free-ranged," Chrissie said. "The heritage turkeys are genetically similar to wild turkeys and actually roost up in the trees.  The broad-breasted turkeys are not able to fly, but have plenty of grass pasture to roam around on and enjoy." So if you're interested, e-mail quickly to reserve your bird, because they'll be going fast.

Details: Turkeys from Kookoolan Farms. $25 deposit required; e-mail or call 503-730-7535. Pickup is either at the Hillsdale Farmer's Market on Sun., Nov. 21, or at the farm store in Yamhill on Mon. or Tues., Nov. 22 or 23.

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As the larger metropolitan area, Portland hogs most of the food limelight, sucking the lion's share of the attention that should be shared with our neighbor to the north. Vancouver and environs are quickly stepping up to the plate, though, with several new restaurants, some great farmers' markets and a plethora of CSAs popping up in the last year. You can both support and enjoy the fruits of all this activity at the Seasonal Feast, a celebration of Urban Abundance's first harvest of Vancouver's Urban Orchard, on Nov. 12. Sponsored by Slow Food Southwest WA, Urban Abundance and LOCALS, the three-course dinner is only $25. So make your reservation and find out what's going on right next door.

Details: Seasonal Feast, a three-course dinner celebrating Urban Abundance. Fri., Nov. 12; seatings at 5:30 and 7:30 pm; $25, reservations required. Dinner at Paper Tiger, 703 Grand Blvd., Vancouver. Phone 360-771-1296 for information and reservations.

Grape Harvest: Working the Line

The French call it vendange, and if you've been anywhere near Oregon's wine country in the last couple of weeks, the number of trucks clogging the two-lane highways, their beds filled with bins of grapes headed to the wineries, will tell you it's harvest time in the Willamette Valley.

Brian and Clare giving the grapes the hairy eyeball.

The weather, as everywhere in the Northwest, has been unpredictable and tending toward disastrous, with cool temperatures in the summer months leading up to what looked like an early, and very rainy, fall. Which would have spelled calamity for Oregon's wine industry, since the fruit wouldn't have had a chance to develop the flavor that time and sunlight bring. Luckily, though, the sun came back for a few wonderful weeks of Indian summer, warming the grapes enough for a decent and, some might optimistically say, even a possibly promising vintage.

Bird damage has been particularly bad this year.

My friends Clare and Brian of Big Table Farm in Gaston buy their grapes from six different vineyards, using the facilities at Coelho Winery, where Brian is the winemaker, to make wines under the Big Table label. The first part of making the wine involves sorting the grapes, culling out clusters that are moldy, that have dried, raisin-like clumps or, particularly this year, "bird damage" or clusters that lost their sweetest grapes to flocks of birds.

Clare and St. Lester.

Brian, like most winemakers, practically lives at the winery during the harvest for the several weeks it takes to bring in and begin making the wine. Many wineries hire people to help sort the grapes, but when you're operating on a shoestring like Big Table does, friends and volunteers often fill those slots.

Clare loving on her grapes.

So for two days last week I (gladly) played harvest slave, driving from Portland down to Amity, a trip of a little over an hour, to help sort through the grapes that will make up the bulk of Big Table Farm's 2011 vintage. Thursday was a fairly easy day, with only a few bins of fruit to cull, which was lucky for me since I had no idea what I was doing.

Raking grapes onto the sorting belt.

Mostly it involved standing next to a conveyor belt as Brian used a forklift to load a bin of fruit onto a machine that would tip it enough for Clare to rake it onto the belt (not too little, not too much). With the fruit passing by way too fast for my undiscerning eye, I would try to pick out the obviously damaged fruit and hope that the others (Brian, Clare and their friend, Lester) would get the rest.

Gorgeous pinot grapes from Cattrall Brothers vineyard.

Friday looked like it was going to be a killer day, with fruit from three vineyards to go through, so I volunteered to come back and help, making a grand total of four of us working through what turned out to be 5 1/2 tons of grapes (that's 11,000 pounds, folks). Another friend, Sarah, joined us in the afternoon to lend a welcome hand, but it was still a mind-boggling amount when we added it up at the end of the day.

Clare cleaning…

One thing I learned was that, in addition to picking and sorting the grapes and making the wine, a lot of time is spent cleaning the equipment between lots and at the beginning and end of the day. Sometimes it involves simply hosing off the belts and machinery with power sprayers, but then other times also means cleaning them with three different solutions: TSP, citric acid to neutralize the TSP and then a final cleaning with iodine and a rinse with water.

…and cleaning some more.

In the middle of the day we broke for lunch, traditionally a large meal for the whole crew, so about twelve of us…our crew and the Coelho team…gathered around a table in the yard for a meal of French dip sandwiches made from grilled tri-tip, fresh French bread and a delicious jus, along with corn on the cob from Big Table. A bottle or two of Coelho rosé was opened and consumed, but only enough to grease the skids for the long afternoon of sorting that lay ahead.

We finished the gorgeous pinot noir grapes from the Cattrall Brothers vineyard, their deep blue, dusky fruit almost perfect and needing very little culling (top photo).  Then we dove into the grapes from a new vineyard for Big Table, albeit one of the oldest pinot vineyards in Oregon, planted in the 60s, neglected in recent decades and recently rejuvenated. It took quite a bit more work to sort, but the grapes had a deep, full and intriguing flavor. They will definitely take some delicate handling, but it'll be fascinating to taste what the wine will be like under Brian's care in future vintages.

Pinot gris in solid form.

Next up were the pinot gris grapes from the same vineyard, perfect pinkish clusters that glowed in the afternoon light and were, again, very easy to sort. As we were finishing, another load of pinot grapes arrived, but would be held for the next day's sorting. After cleaning the equipment, I was glad to fold my tired self into Chili and head for home and a shower with a newfound respect for the work that goes into that glass of wine I so casually consume in the evening.

The Boulevardier

You gotta love a place like Bar Avignon, and people like owners Randy Goodman and Nancy Hunt, whose tag line is "Drinking is fun!" No equivocating, no apologies, just a simple statement of fact. Because we're all adults here and we know about drinking responsibly and behaving like civilized human beings.

And I am in complete accord with them concerning the agreeable, possibly even medicinal, properties of the consumption of moderate quantities of alcohol. One beverage in particular, the Manhattan, has been added to our house cocktail list. It's primary ingredient, bourbon, was on my "I gotta have more of that" list, with its caramel color and smell and smooth, honey-like feel going down. So when our neighbor made a batch one night, substituting an insidiously addictive amarena cherry for the usual maraschino, I was hooked.

Then Dave, in perusing "Vintage Spirits and Forgotten Cocktails"by Ted Haigh, ran across a recipe for the Boulevardier, which had itself first appeared in print in 1927's classic "Barflies and Cocktails"by Harry McElhone. Basically, as I see it, a Manhattan with Campari or, as Haigh says, a Negroni with bourbon, Haigh writes "it was the signature drink of Erskine Gwynne, expatriate writer, socialite, and nephew of railroad tycoon Alfred Vanderbuilt." It was from Gwynne, according to Haigh, that the cocktail likely got it's name, which translates roughly as "man about town."

The Boulevardier

From "Vintage Spirits and Forgotten Cocktails"by Ted Haigh

1 1/2 oz. bourbon
1 oz. Campari
1 oz. sweet vermouth (Haigh recommends trying Carpano Antica)

Stir long and well with ice in a mixing glass and strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with a cherry. (We highly recommend Italian amarena cherries, available at many specialty food stores.)

Speak Your Mind

Special occasions in most families mean celebrating birthdays, anniversaries, holidays. But around here we also include elections. In the past we'd go out to breakfast after casting ballots at our neighborhood precinct, being greeted (and sometimes grilled) by a panel of elderly neighbors who would patiently show new voters the ropes and check signatures in the holy precinct book.

In this day of mail-in ballots, we sit down around the dining room table and pull out the voters' guide, spending a few minutes bubbling in our choices, looking up (and arguing about) the various issues and discussing which candidate has the worst photo. As a reward for all of this hard work participating in our democratic system, we toast our wisdom with a celebratory cocktail or a nice glass of red.

If you or your family have a voting tradition, please share it in the comments below. But above all be sure to vote and get your ballot in by Tuesday, Nov. 2.

Falling into Winter

Playing in the leaves while we're trying to rake them isn't the most helpful activity, but who can resist a Corgi's exuberance in the moment? (Walker did eventually settle down long enough to catch this.)

Laissez les Bon Temps Rouler!

In his cookbook "Vegan Soul Kitchen,"author Bryant Terry not only featured some kick-ass recipes, but also accompanied each one with a music suggestion. In the same way, contributor Jim Dixon of RealGoodFood was inspired recently by the music of his beloved New Orleans.

Local winter squash are plentiful these days, another reminder that what we called summer this year is definitely over. While I love the sweetness of delicatas, and the obscure heirloom varieties have their charms, plain old butternut remains my favorite. The smooth skin comes off nicely with a swivel peeler, the seeds are fewer and easy to get at, and they offer more edible flesh per pound than most other winter squash.

I usually make zucca agrodule, an Italian style sweet and sour technique that’s easy and delicious. But I’d been listening to the Rebirth Brass Band (left) and was feeling New Orleans, so I experimented a little. The results were good, even better with some red beans and rice alongside.

Cajun Butternut Squash

Chop an onion and start cooking it in extra virgin olive oil. Add a couple of stalks of diced celery and a diced green pepper. If you like a little heat, add a diced jalapeno, too. Toss in a little salt and cook for abut 10 minutes.

While that’s cooking, peel, seed and cube a butternut squash. You want pieces about a half inch square, but don’t worry about perfection. I peel the squash, split it lengthwise, scoop put the seeds, then lay it cut side down and slice. Stack a few slices at a time and cut them into roughly square chunks.

Add the squash to pan and sprinkle with a generous dose of your favorite Cajun spice blend (or make one with roughly equal parts of black pepper and paprika, about half as much thyme, and chili powder to your heat tolerance). Cook this for 15 minutes over medium heat, then pour in some Katz Gravenstein apple cider vinegar (maybe 1/4 cup). Cover, reduce the heat, and cook for another 15 to 20 minutes or until the squash is tender.

Cran-tastick!

"The farm is more than just land to us. It represents a type of 'sacred ground.' Nurturing this ground through natural and responsible farming practices is second nature to us." - Tim Vincent

I couldn't resist posting this photo of the cranberry harvest at Vincent Family Cranberries in Bandon, Oregon. You've probably seen their dried cranberries and cranberry juices at local markets recently, the result of a big risk taken by this third-generation family business.

Tim's grandfather and grandmother pressing juice in the 1950s.

Low prices for fresh cranberries, caused by the commoditization of the market over the last few years, had driven many of Oregon's small cranberry farmers out of business. Not willing to give up without a fight, Tim Vincent decided to risk everything on producing his own dried berries and juices, selling them first at local farmers' markets, refining their juice drink flavors with guidance from customer feedback.

Will it work? Time will tell, but Tim and his family are convinced that their homegrown, sustainable approach will resonate with customers. Made with just cranberry juice, water and raw organic agave from Glory Bee Foods in Eugene, the juices are bottled in Dundee. Even the labels were part of their considerations, and they ended up printing them on paper from sustainably harvested bamboo.

With that kind of dedication and attention to detail, I think they'll do just fine.

End of a Summer Affair

I think it's finally played itself out and, frankly, it came just in time. Tomato season, delayed as it was, had built up the kind of frustration normally only seen on series TV. Remember Diane and Sam on Cheers? How about Niles and Daphne on Frasier? And, it goes without saying, Next Gen's Picard and Riker. Talk about heat!

But, as with all torrid affairs, the tidal wave of passionate paroxysms passed, leaving piles of fruit still needing attention, if only to rid the kitchen of the fruit flies attracted by the heat of the moment. Even with the freezer filled up with sauce, and some cherry tomatoes dried in the oven, there was a pile of slicers on the counter that were getting dangerously close to composting before my eyes.

That's when I saw a recipe for a tomato cobbler on Mark Bittman's website. (I swear I'm not stalking him. Really.) And, in a sign from the deity if ever there was one, it turned out that the recipe called for exactly the number of tomatoes I had and all of the other ingredients were in the pantry, so no trip to the store was required.

Basically the same concept as a chicken pot pie only using tomatoes, it's a brilliant idea and one that would lend itself to a multitude of fillings and variations on the crust. Which is a nice way to remember a summer romance, don't you think?

Tomato Cobbler
Adapted from How to Cook Everything Vegetarianby Mark Bittman

For the filling:
3 lbs. tomatoes (8-10 med.), roughly chopped (a combination of colors is gorgeous)
1 c. sundried tomatoes, roughly chopped (optional)
1 Tbsp. cornstarch

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

For the crust:

1-1 1/2 c. flour, plus more for rolling out dough

1 c. cornmeal

1 1/2 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. salt
4 Tbsp. (1/2 stick) butter or margarine, frozen, cut into large pieces
1 egg, beaten

3/4 c. buttermilk or milk
1 c. sharp cheddar, grated, optional
1 c. corn kernels, optional

Preheat the oven to 375˚.

Put the tomatoes and sundried tomatoes (if using) in a 9" by 12" baking dish and sprinkle with the cornstarch and some salt and pepper. Toss gently to combine.

Put the flour, cornmeal, baking powder, baking soda and salt in a food processor and pulse to combine. Add the butter or margarine and pulse a few times until the mixture looks like coarse bread crumbs. Add the egg and buttermilk and pulse a few times more, until the mixture comes together in a ball. If the mixture doesn’t come together, add a spoonful or two of flour. If the mixture is too dry, add a few drops of buttermilk.

Turn out dough onto floured board. Mix in cheese and corn (if using) by hand, flattening and shaping into the approximate size of the baking dish. Place on top of tomatoes. You can also drop spoonfuls of the batter on top and smooth a bit with a knife. Bake 45-50 minutes, until golden on top and bubbly underneath. Cool to just barely warm or room temperature. To serve, scoop servings out with a large spoon.

Great Gifting: Classic Design

You no doubt already know about the powerful and sometimes whimsical work of Charles and Ray Eames (above), the husband-wife team who did so much to promote the ethic of humanistic modernism in the middle of the 20th Century. Known for their groundbreaking work in furniture design, architecture, industrial design and photographic arts, they were at the epicenter of the post-war changes that were taking place in this country.

Among the first to take a multidisciplinary approach to design, they created more than one hundred short films between 1950 and 1962. A curated selection of 35 of their most famous films have been collected in a six-volume set, including the amazing Powers of Ten. To quote one review: "Thought provoking, inspirational, beautiful and poetic, the films featured in this collection reveal their full creative vision." Having seen many of them myself, I can heartily agree. Available at Canoe, a design store downtown (or by ordering online at their website), this is a great gift for the design or film buff in your house.

Also at Canoe is another Eames classic, their House of Cards. Created in 1952, each card has a different image of what the designers called the "good stuff," that is, "familiar and nostalgic images from the animal, mineral, and vegetable kingdoms." With six slots in each card, they can be stacked in an infinite variety of ways to create structures that are sometimes startling and always thought-provoking. It's available in two sizes, the smaller one being a perfect stocking stuffer.

Details: Canoe, 1136 SW Alder. Phone 503-889-8545.

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

Livin' in the Blurbs: Dedication to a Cause

One of the things that gives me hope, and sometimes makes me shake my head in disbelief, is the dedication that some people have to making their city a healthier, more equitable place to live. Some of those people can be found at Zenger Farm, a working urban farm in southeast Portland that serves as an educational center and model for a sustainable, environmentally responsible food system. They are holding their 3rd Annual Farm to Table Fundraiser on October 22, with a four-course, chef-prepared dinner of food from their farm along with locally made wine and microbrews. I can't imagine a better way to start making a change in our food system, and have a great meal to boot!

Details: 3rd Annual Farm to Table Fundraiser. Fri., Oct. 22, 6 pm; $100 ticket, available online. Dinner held at University of Portland's University Commons, 5000 N Willamette Blvd. Phone 503-282-4245 for information.

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And talk about dedication: Harry MacCormack of Sunbow Farm in Corvallis has started the Southern Willamette Valley Bean and Grain Project to, get this, "rebuild the local food system by increasing the quantity and diversity of food crops that are grown in the valley, evaluating deficiencies in the food system infrastructure, building buyer/seller relationships for locally grown food, incorporating the culture of community into the fabric of the food system, and compiling resources on organic and sustainable agricultural practices specific to this region." Whew! The first step in this herculean task is the First Annual Willamette Valley Fill-Your-Pantry Market, where you can buy staples directly from local farmers and fishers. Not just making meals for your family, but making change as well? Sign me up!

Details: First Annual Willamette Valley Fill-Your-Pantry Market. Sat., Oct. 23, 2-5 pm. A2R Farms, 7205 Cutler Lane, Corvallis. Download a pdf of a product list and information on bulk orders.

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I've written about Sophie Rahman's dedication to educating people about the regional cooking of India, and she's offering a set of new classes that sound amazing.

• Indian Breads: Naans and Rotis. Nov. 10. Learn to make these classic staples and the condiments that accompany them.
• Portuguese Goa. Dec. 8. The western Indian state whose Hindu origins are melded with 400 years of Portuguese colonialism.
• Tagore's India: East Bengal. Dec. 15. Tagore, a Calcutta-born  writer, playwright, song-writer, poet, philosopher and educator, was deeply influenced by the sights, sounds and tastes of this region.

Details: Masala NW Classes with Sophie Rahman. All classes 6-9 pm; $50, registration required. Classes include refreshments, snacks and samples of each dish. 4356 NE Flanders St. 503-233-1966.

Evolution of a Recipe

Great cooks are always tinkering with their recipes, and Jim Dixon of RealGoodFood is no exception. This one for brussels sprouts is genius and will have even the most skeptical eater asking for seconds.

I usually cook brussels sprouts one of two ways. If I’m in a hurry, they get shredded, cooked in olive oil with some onion or shallot for about 15 minutes, then finished with a splash of Katz Orleans method vinegar (typically Gravenstein apple cider, but sometimes one of the others). This is delicious.

The dish I learned from Jason French and David Padberg (from their days at clarklewis) takes longer. I split the sprouts into halves or quarters, cook them with a chopped onion for about 40 minutes so they’re browned nicely, then mix in a generous amount of whole grain mustard. It’s incredibly good, too.

More recently I tried combining these techniques and was very happy with the results. So I’m adding a third approach to the lineup.

Shredded Brussels Sprouts with Mustard

Slice the brussels sprouts in half lengthwise, then cut into coarse shreds. Cook a diced shallot for a couple of minutes in extra virgin olive oil, then add the shredded sprouts. Cook over medium heat for about 15 minutes, add a splash of Katz Gravenstein apple cider vinegar and about a quarter cup (a few healthy dollops) of good mustard (I used Dulcet’s Creole mustard; like all of the Dulcet products, it’s really good). Cook for a few more minutes, then serve hot.

Have Your Cake

I like my ruts. It's comforting to know my surroundings so well I almost don't have to think, so familiar that I could find my way blindfolded on the well-worn path, my fingers skimming the walls on either side.

It's like that when friends are coming over for dinner, requiring some sort of dessert to be served. The rest of the menu can go in any number of directions, but the wrap-up to the meal is pretty much predictable. That's not to say that it lacks excitement or its own kind of wonderfulness, since a good…you guessed it…fruit crisp or cobbler can reflect the season perfectly. Rhubarb in spring, berries in early summer, peaches later on. Then apples in the fall and winter alternating with the huckleberries and other fruit I (hopefully) managed to squirrel away in the freezer.

But sometimes the sheer familiarity of it makes me restless, like being cooped up in the house for too long. That's when I pull out some books, or leaf through old recipes looking for something, anything, that will be different. And, with a little luck, provide a tasty coda to the evening.

This cake recipe, written on an old index card in what looks like my handwriting from high school (no, no hearts dotting the i's), was one I copied from my mother's collection and that she made when I was growing up. She'd bake it in an aluminum sheet pan (with a cool sliding top should you want to take it on a picnic), then make a frosting by creaming together powdered sugar and butter with pineapple bits and coconut folded in. But I decided to bake it in a bundt pan with no frosting, the better to have it for breakfast the next morning.

Pineapple Carrot Cake

1 1/4 c. vegetable oil
2 c. sugar
3 eggs
2 1/2 c. flour
1 tsp. cinnamon
1 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. nutmeg
1/2 tsp. salt
2 c. carrots, grated
1 c. walnuts, chopped
1 c. crushed pineapple, drained
1/2 c. grated coconut

Preheat oven to 350°.

In large mixing bowl, combine oil, sugar and eggs and mix well. Add flour, cinnamon, soda, nutmeg and salt and stir well. Add carrots, nuts, pineapple and coconut. Pour into greased and floured 9" by 12" cake pan or bundt pan. For sheet cake bake 45 min., for bundt cake bake 80 min. or until skewer inserted into center comes out clean.

Powers of Ten

On 10-10-10 it seemed appropriate to share that groundbreaking and breathtaking film by my favorite design couple, Charles and Ray Eames. Here's to the powers of ten!

Saucy Lady

Talk about gift horses.

When Carol Boutard of Ayers Creek Farm called to ask if I would like a few of the very last of their end-of-season Asti paste tomatoes, I said, "Well, yeah!" After all, the last batch, which I roasted on the Weber, produced a smoky, rich, brick-red sauce that is sitting, bagged and waiting, in the freezer for the time when Dave gets a yen to make pizza on the grill.

Walker, checking out the goods.

Little did I suspect that by "just a few" she meant a big heavy duty cardboard box containing, oh, about  30 pounds-worth delivered by the angel herself on her way to drop off a little produce with one Mr. Greg Higgins. So with the box sitting on my counter and fruit flies buzzing greedily around, I fired up the oven, got out my two largest roasting pans and got to work.

Grinder-iffic!

For those of you who know that I adore my tomatoes smoked on the Weber (charcoal, of course), the reason I chose the oven method was two-fold: first, I have lots of the smoky goodness already (see above), and second, I wanted to be able to leave them roasting away without worrying about adding coals or turning the grill. And 30 pounds at four pounds a batch and two hours each was more math than I wanted to do.

Concentrating.

So, unlike my last oven-roasting session, I simply chopped the tomatoes into big hunks, set them skin-side down in the roasting pans and slid them into a 300° oven until they started caramelizing, which took about two to two-and-a-half hours. No onions, no garlic, no oil, just tomatoes. Then I scooped them out into a bowl, let them cool a bit and pulled the skins off by hand (a sieve or food mill would be another option if you don't want skins or seeds).

Mind you, it took all day and four of those double-roasting pan batches to do them all, but do them all I did. Then Dave got out the KitchenAid mixer with its handy-dandy grinder and produced a fine grind that is, even as I write, simmering away on the stove to reduce to a fine sauce, soon to join its brothers-in-bags in the deep freeze. Can't wait!

Great Gifting: Book by Book

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

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

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

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

Fritterizing With Your Produce

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

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

Roasted Tomato Fritters

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

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

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

Livin' in the Blurbs: Crazy Weekend!

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

Saturday has three events:

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

Sunday has just two obligations:

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

Shell Game

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

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

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

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

Shell Beans with Tomatoes and Sausages

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

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

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

Dumplings of Joy

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

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

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

Handmade noodles with beef.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Think Global, Buy Local…in Hungary!

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