Farm Bulletin: Taming Bitterness in Chicories

Leaf chicory, as well as the type known as radicchio, is a frilly beauty when found in a winter salad, though it can sometimes have a slightly bitter edge that some find too aggressive. Contributor Anthony Boutard of Ayers Creek Farm explains where this flavor comes from, and how to sweeten its personality.

This is the season for chicories. At the moment they are the speckled Lusia types. We have had trouble with the quality of the seed, so there is a lot variation in the field, and we are only able to harvest about 10% of what we planted, which is way below the 90% harvested in the past. We are not happy with the state of seed, to put it mildly. In February, we will have longer meditation about the genetics of chicories, and what we are doing to address the problem.

Italian radicchio.

As with Bette Davis and the lyrics of Sondheim, the bitterness in chicories is always a matter of interpretation and taste; some revel in it, others recoil. Varieties and individual plants vary as well. The bitter compounds are in the white latex of the sap and are water soluble, so the problem is easily addressed. Tearing the leaves lengthwise and immediately soaking them in iced water draws out the latex and eliminates almost all of the bitterness. Soaking for 20 minutes or so is generally enough.

If you are planning to braise the chicories, quarter them lengthwise and immediately soak in ice water. As with latex paint, if the plant's latex starts to set up and dry, it is no longer water soluble, so having soaking water ready before you tear or cut the heads is important. The ice is critical to the process because the cold shrinks the vascular tissue, forcing the latex out of the leaf. Lukewarm or cool water is useless for the task, so don't skimp on the ice.

Radicchio salad.

For a salad, a lemon-based dressing adds a bit of sweetness. Cutting vinegar with a bit of orange juice also works. An anchovy fillet squeezed through a garlic press and mixed into the dressing is another fine addition. As a forage crop for livestock, chicories have higher protein content than even legumes such as alfalfa, as well as a hefty dose of minerals. As a result, in recent years seed companies have been offering a greater range of forage chicories, apparently with better seed quality than we see in the varieties grown for human consumption. Regardless, you can't go wrong eating these fine winter greens, right Elsie?

Your Food, Your Legislature: Opening Salvos

This blog is about my ongoing journey to discover the connections between what's going on in the field and what I put on my table. It took me awhile to realize part of that road makes a detour through the halls of the Capitol building in Salem. In other words, the decisions that our elected officials make about agriculture in Oregon directly affect what I'm going to feed my family, whether I buy it at the farmers' market or the grocery store.

With the opening of the 2015 regular session of the state legislature, I thought it might be helpful to sit down with Ivan Maluski, the Director of Friends of Family Farmers, an organization working to promote and protect socially responsible agriculture in Oregon, and get the bullet points on what's he's paying attention to this session.

Senate Bill 207: Authorizes the Oregon Department of Agriculture to establish control areas to allow for the regulation of genetically engineered crops to prevent conflicts with growers of non-GMO crops.

The ability of communities to make decisions about their local food systems as well as assuring farmers that the integrity of their crops is protected is at the center of this bill. The federal system for regulating genetically modified organisms (GMOs) is an "outdated patchwork" according to Maluski, who said that protecting non-GMO crops is a hot topic nationally. He added that no other state has taken a leadership position on this issue, and doing so would put Oregon at the forefront of the debate.

The bill basically gives the ODA the authority to establish legally binding isolation distances between GMO and non-GMO crops, necessary because pollen and seed from GMO crops can potentially contaminate fields of non-GMO crops. It's clear that Oregon industries like organic farms, organic seed producers and conventional vegetable growers can be potentially devastated by contamination from GMO crops.

For instance, last November the Salem Statesman Journal reported that Monsanto Co. reached a $2.4 million settlement with Pacific Northwest wheat farmers who sued after unapproved genetically modified wheat was discovered growing in Eastern Oregon. According to the article, the discovery of the wheat had prompted Japan and South Korea to temporarily suspend some wheat orders, a disastrous situation in any industry.

* * *

House Bill 2598: Prohibits the use of medically important antibiotics on healthy food-producing animals for non-therapeutic purposes such as growth promotion and disease prevention. Requires documentation of reporting of antibiotic use in large concentrated animal feeding operations in Oregon.

Simply put, this bill says that large factory farms will only be able to use antibiotics on sick animals. Currently, concentrated animal feeding operations (CAFOs) routinely use antibiotics on healthy animals to promote faster growth and for disease prevention (rather than treatment when an animal is actually sick). OSPIRG is currently taking the lead in this effort, positioning it as an important public health issue, since overuse of antibiotics in food-producing animals—meat animals in particular—is causing existing antibiotics used to combat human illness to lose their effectiveness. A prominent example of this was the outbreak of antibiotic-resistant salmonella traced to Foster Farms chicken that sickened hundreds across the country in 2014.

* * *

Senate Bill 204: Establishes a new Working Forests and Farms Advisory Program to provide low interest loans, loan guarantees and grants to help maintain or restore conservation benefits on working forests and farms.

In essence this bill would provide loans, loan guarantees and grants to keep existing farmland in production and encourage farmers to pass their land on to a new generation of farmers rather than convert farmland to non-farm uses. Considering the average age of a farmer in Oregon is 58, it's critical for the continuation of our local food supply to keep farmland in production and provide avenues for new farmers to get onto the land.

* * *

Other issues that may come up this session are:

• Establishing pilot projects to give Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP, formerly known as food stamps) recipients regular access and incentives to purchase fresh fruits and vegetables.
• Creating incentive areas and reducing roadblocks to the development of urban agriculture enterprise zones on underutilized city lots.
• Promoting agritourism through liability protections for farmers who want to offer public access to their property.
• Allowing farms to advertise raw milk sold on their farms. Currently farms are not even allowed to put that information on their websites.

Click here for more information on the bills that are coming up before the Legislature this session. Find your legislators and let them know what you think. And stay tuned for further updates as the 2015 session progresses!

Read the other posts in this series, The Good, The Bad and the Ugly, The Personal Gets Political , The Fight Takes Shape and Hanging in the Balance.

Photos of Oregon Capitol building and CAFO from Wikipedia.

Quick Hits: Palace Cakes and Maurice

It's a common malady among several of my friends. We're walking or driving someplace together and see a sweet little building or storefront that's been abandoned or underused, sometimes for years, and say, "Gosh, wouldn't it be fun to turn that into a darling café/bakery/bar/lunch spot."

Ginger cake with lemon curd at Palace Cakes.

We then fantasize about what the menu would be, whether we'd make our own pasta and which coffee roaster we'd choose for our house blend. Our dreaming never goes further than that, since most of us know folks in the food service industry and know what a crazy, backbreaking job it is to realize that dream of just the right place with just the right menu that finds just the right customers who come back again and again.

Two places that seem to have found that magic combination are Palace Cakes, Elizabeth Beekley's ode to pastries your grandmother would approve of, and Kristen Murray's Maurice, the sparkling white oh-so-French "pastry luncheonette." Both are teensy spaces with very limited seating, but seem to have hit that zeitgeist of place, time and offerings that spell instant success.

Beekley's bakery scored a building I've had my eye on for years that sits just on the western edge of the pretentiously dubbed West End neighborhood. No newb to the pastry business, Beekley and her sister—they are two of eleven sibs, all apparently crazy bakers—took the town by storm in 2007 with tiny filled cookies sold from their Two Tarts stand at several farmers' markets.

Gorgeous but not over-decorated, sitting on antique cake stands and vintage plates, Beekley uses basic ingredients to turn out deeply flavored cakes that pair perfectly with a cup of house coffee.

Counter seats at Maurice.

Maurice, located just across West Burnside from the Godzilla-like epicenter that is Powell's Books, is a bright oasis of civility, a little taste of the Île-Saint-Louis sandwiched in a row of non-descript storefronts. Like Beekley, Murray is no stranger to the pastry scene in Portland, having made desserts for the likes of Vitaly Paley's eponymous Paley's Place and the late Pearl District mega-bistro Fenouil.

Quiche at Maurice.

Savory and sweet baked goods are the focus of the intensely curated menu that may feature a light and fluffy seasonal quiche, a savory meat pie, lefse, poulet au pain or pigeon bisteeya alongside a perfectly composed green salad and desserts from tarte tatin to Swedish fika cookies and a glace du jour.

If my mother was still with us I'd take her to Powell's for a bit of book-browsing, then to Maurice for a light lunch and over to Palace Cakes for dessert. She would have called it a perfect day.

Winter Soup to Warm Your Bones

Contributor Jim Dixon's annual olive oil garage sale is an institution among aficionados of good cooking and good eating in town. In the tradition of his beloved New Orleans, he always offers a lagniappe, or a little something extra, to his Real Good Food customers, usually something warming to drink and a cup of his famous "garage sale soup."

Garbanzo, Farro & Squash Soup

Soak about a cup each of garbanzos and farro together in plenty of water overnight. Drain, add enough water to cover, stir in some salt, and simmer for an hour—longer is even better—or until the beans are tender. Cut up the rest of the ingredients while the beans and farro cook.

Chop an onion, 3-4 stalks of celery and a few cloves of garlic. Chiffonade a bunch of collard greens (leave the center stalk attached; it'll cook enough to get tender).

While I like to use one of the big, pumpkin-y squashes (Cucurbita maxima, like kabocha or Hubbard), for this, almost any winter squash would work. Cut it in half, pick out the seeds (roast them with olive oil and salt for about 25 minutes) then grate the raw pieces (and leave the skin on, even with the gnarly-looking kabochas). It’s easiest in the food processor, but a box grater works, too. You want about 2 cups worth.

Add the grated squash, onion, celery, garlic and collards to the pot. Add a large can of diced tomatoes (or the tomatoes you roasted and froze last summer). Sprinkle in a good handful of Pantellerian oregano, pour in plenty of good olive oil, taste for salt and let the soup simmer for a couple of hours if you can. Soup always tastes best with long, slow cooking.

Just before serving taste it again; if it seems to need a little something, add a splash of Katz Gravenstein apple cider vinegar [good quality regular cider vinegar works, too. - KB]. Drizzle with more oil at the table, and a pinch of Parmigiano would be good, too.

Farm Bulletin: Time to Go Undercover

Adaptation, the principle of change over time, plays a key role in the life history of an organism. So it is with farmers' markets, an organism of a somewhat different kind, consisting of farmers and tables, vegetables and bins, trucks and schedules, shoppers and boards of directors. Like any organism, it must adapt and change as the needs of its component parts shift over the years. Contributor Anthony Boutard of Ayers Creek Farm has a few suggestions for ways that the Hillsdale Farmers' Market might adapt to a changing environment.

We hope the market will establish 1:00 p.m. as a permanent closing time, a sentiment that is gathering steam among the dusty-footed vendors, the piepoudres. After 12 years (245 market days to date), both summer and winter, on the pavement at Hillsdale, we know that 70% of our sales consistently take place in the first two hours of the market, and the last hour accounts for less than 5% of our sales. If the day is rainy, cold or hot, the market is dead as a smelt by noon. No wonder, produce quality is best in the first two to three hours, especially in the summer heat, as most of you know. A 1:00 p.m. closing time year-round is sensible.

A tasty venue.

The board should consider other changes over the next year. When the market moved across the highway to its current location, it grew substantially and went from a summer fling to a year-round relationship. The ease of access to arterial streets and good parking have been critical assets in attracting farmers and customers. Unfortunately, the addition of bike lanes on Vermont Avenue had a negative influence on traffic at the market by eliminating a long stretch of parking spaces. Rather than grousing about the clumsy transportation planning by the city, as easy as that is to do, it is much more productive to rethink how the market uses the site.

Market manager Eamon Molloy.

Currently, the market stalls occupy more than 70 parking spaces. It is possible to free up these parking spots by creating a space for the vendors on the flat area to the west of the lot, between the lot and the slope leading down to the soccer fields. This would make shopping at the market much easier. There are minor challenges reconfiguring the area, but none insurmountable. The parking lot is unlovely and in need of repair, so it is a good time to address improved utilization of the site. Hillsdale is one of the few markets in the region, if any, so well-poised for improvement.

A structural solution.

As the market has developed into a year-round enterprise and is no longer an experiment, safer shelter is warranted as well. A simple 45' by 180' freestanding structure covered in rip-stop polyethylene (left) costs $30,000, with some bells and whistles available for an additional pittance. Simply put, the neighborhood can have a safe and comfortable covered market for roughly the same price as a plain vanilla family car.

Farmers use these durable and utilitarian structures for a wide variety of uses, including as shelters for farmers' markets, so we recognize them as our preferred habitat. Not particularly posh or elegant, true, but they are engineered to survive heavy snow loads and wind. The sunshine passes through while providing shade and shelter for the fruits and vegetables below. As you will note from the link, these structures are manufactured in 14 days, the cover is warrantied for 20 years, and the frame for 50 years. They are assembled in a matter of days as well. From a farmer's perspective it is a very good value. Aside from leveling and preparing the site, there is no foundation or excavation required, a massive cost savings relative to any other cover option. When the market isn't using the shelter, it can be available for school functions or neighborhood events. In other words, it will be a general community asset rather than a dedicated market space.

Shoppers big and small.

Hillsdale has an experienced cadre of farmers, some of whom, like us, have been part of the market since it started in 2002. Having adequate parking and a sturdy covering for the market will make it a preferred destination for both farmers and customers for years to come. With some vision and cooperation on the part of the Hillsdale Farmers' Market board and the neighborhood, the rag tag assembly of tents set up on Sundays can evolve into a defining neighborhood fixture. We hope you all encourage Eamon and the board to think creatively about the future of the market. Your voice, encouragement and participation is important.

Winter Warmer: Kimchi Stew

I've said it before, I'll say it again. My neighbors rock. The folks next door are both scientists, love dogs, make great cocktails—the husband gave Dave his recipe for Manhattans, which we've been happily slurping up ever since—and invite us to their yard parties. A couple of doors down are two tremendous cooks who've fed us lovely dinners and even let us make bread in their oven when ours was on the fritz.

The house behind us was formerly occupied by a grumpy gus who never cottoned to the young hippies (us) who moved in, started cutting down the laurel bushes that nearly engulfed the house and taking down the cyclone fencing. A few years ago he sold his house to a young couple who, within a week of moving in, planted a 100-foot-long garden along the south-facing street side and announced we could help ourselves to the bounty.

This was promising enough, but when we found out that the husband was into beer and the wife was a culinary instructor, the future was sealed and we've been passing bacon, pizza and cocktails back and forth over the back fence ever since. (Which never fails to impress friends who come over.)

Susana eventually opened her own cooking school with her best friend and fellow instructor Melinda, who felicitously happens to be a master butcher (yes, this is a fairy-tale relationship). Ever the good neighbor, Susana called the other afternoon asking if I'd be interested in a batch of stew left over from a Korean cooking class that her students couldn't finish because they were too full from the other dishes they'd made.

I've had enough of her cooking to know a terrific dinner had just fallen into my lap, and ran over immediately to pick it up. The base of the stew was a delicious fresh kimchi they'd made in class, augmented by a combination of tofu and some pork belly from a pig Melinda had butchered for a class the day before. I extracted a promise that she'd share the recipe before dashing back home to warm it up for dinner.

Exquisitely flavored and needing nothing more than some fluffy rice to make a company-worthy feast, this dish is destined become a regular addition to our dinner repertoire. I can't wait to start trying it with some of the terrific locally made kimchis available in town (Choi's, I'm thinking of you!), and it's giving me a very good reason to attempt making some of my own in the near future.

Susana's Kimchi Stew

1 lb. pork belly, in 1/4" dice
1/2 onion, diced
5-6 cloves garlic, minced
1 qt. cabbage kimchi
2 qts. chicken stock
1 block firm tofu, medium dice
Salt, pepper, fish sauce to taste

Brown the pork belly and then add the onions to brown, then add garlic. When garlic is slightly browned, add in kimchi and stock and let simmer on low for about 30 minutes. Add in tofu and let simmer for a final 5-7 minutes to warm tofu through and season to taste with salt, pepper and fish sauce.

Crustacean Celebration: Let Them Eat (Crab) Cakes!

You can never have too much crab.

There, I've said it. And I challenge anyone to prove me wrong, especially when it comes to our own treasured resource, the Dungeness crab. Which is why, whenever I buy live crab to cook at home or already cooked and cleaned from the store—it's no sin, they're just never as sweet and juicy as fresh-cooked—I make a point of buying more than I need.

Whether you make chowder, risotto, pasta or whatever, even the littlest dab of crab is going to make it better. And if you have enough leftover meat, and by that I mean about a whole crab's worth, you can make these heavenly crab cakes, perhaps the best and highest use of that precious seasonal treat next to eating it out of the shell.

My friend Michel shared her Thai-inflected recipe for these delicate, almost-all-crab cakes, which have only enough egg and bread crumbs to barely hold them together. I've added a dash of fish sauce to the original list, but otherwise it's exactly what she dictated to me the first night she made them for me and I fell to my knees begging for the recipe. Incidentally, it calls for the meat of two crabs, but the meat from one makes enough for a lovely dinner for two with a hearty green salad.

Michel's Thai-ish Crab Cakes

Yield: 15-18 small crab cakes

Combine:

Meat of two Dungeness crabs

1/2 red bell pepper, minced

1/4 c. minced red or green onion

1 serrano pepper, finely minced

2-4 Tbsp. cilantro, minced

1/4 c. bread crumbs

1/4 c. grated parmesan

Zest of 1 lime

1/2-1 tsp. fish sauce, to taste

(Adding some grated coconut and fresh mint or basil is also yummy.)

Whisk together and add:

Juice of 1 lime

1 egg

Stir crab mixture thoroughly.

Crumb coating:

1 c. bread crumbs, preferably Panko style

1/4 c. grated parmesan

Combine crumbs and parmesan and spread out on a plate.

Line a baking sheet with parchment or waxed paper.

Scoop up about 1/4 cup of crab mixture and form into a plump cake about 2-inches in diameter (approx. 1” high). Compress so cake holds together. Gently sit cake in crumb mixture to coat bottom and sprinkle crumbs over top to coat (don’t flip the cake or it will fall apart). Gently compress cake between your hands to meld crumbs to the crab cake. (Keep cake plump; don’t flatten.)

Set each formed cake on lined baking sheet. When all cakes are formed, place sheet in the refrigerator for at least 15 minutes.

Heat large sauté pan or griddle to medium-high heat and add olive oil, butter or mixture of both to generously coat pan. Gently place cakes in pan or on griddle, leaving plenty of room to turn them. Cook until golden brown and turn gently to brown other side, adding more oil or butter if needed. If cooking cakes in stages, keep cakes warm in oven until ready to serve.

Read the other post in this year's series, Don't Toss Those Shells. For even more seriously great crab recipes, from crab cakes to chowders to pasta dishes, read the posts from previous years: 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012 and 2013.

Why I Butcher My Own Meat

My fascination with butchery began decades ago with the humble chicken, though the exact details of the experience are lost to the mists of time. Was it in college in a fit of DIY enthusiasm? Or when I was living on my own? Or perhaps as a young married person, when I realized that buying a whole chicken was a lot cheaper pound-for-pound than its already-segmented version? In any case, somehow, somewhere, from a live person or on TV, I learned how to cut up a whole chicken into its component parts.

Meeting my meat.

It was a satisfying achievement, much like learning how to change a tire or install a rheostat, one of those things adults (and real cooks) do. Learning to feel the joint in the leg between the thigh and drumstick, that little indentation that, when sliced, cleaves with almost no resistance into two perfect parts. A wonderful skill, both mechanical and edible.

I never had a problem with the "yuck" factor, not being the squeamish sort when it came to blood, though that's rarely a problem with properly slaughtered animals. My decision was reinforced when news came out that the best-quality commercial chickens appeared whole in the butcher case, and that the trays of parts often came from carcasses where some portion of the bird might have been damaged from a defect or mishandling.

Who needs roses?

Butchering a larger animal never occured to me. Growing up, my family was inclined to frequent steakhouses more than hunting blinds, my father not being the outdoorsy type and only going hunting when he felt he couldn't refuse a customer's invitation. My mother wasn't interested in dealing with plucking or cooking whatever game he brought home, since the birds were often peppered with buckshot and she had no clue how to cook deer or elk.

It wasn't until I became a food writer that I felt obliged to follow an animal from its pasture to my plate, and to experience what it means to take the life of a living creature. Recounted in a series of posts called Thinking of Eating, I met a young pig named Roger and watched as he grew up, was killed in his pasture at the farm and then taken to the place where I was going to be taught how to butcher him.

Two-rib chops, anyone?

Under the tutelage of master butcher Melinda Casady (top photo), I was initially overwhelmed and then profoundly amazed as she led me through the process of breaking down a nearly one hundred pound carcass into large, manageable chunks called primals using just a bone saw, knives and some muscle. Like the chicken, there were anatomical clues to dividing the large hunks into the roasts, steaks, ribs and other pieces that would end up in the braising pot, smoker or meat grinder.

A better pot of beans.

One of the best things about it was being able to make my own decisions about how large the roasts should be, whether I wanted lots of chops or if I should leave a chunk for a rib roast—boned or bone-in—plus getting to save all the bones for roasting and making into stock. Even the trotters were saved and tied for throwing into a pot of beans. Talk about snout-to-tail and using every part! It made me feel like I was really getting my money's worth, again much like cutting up my own chicken, making stock from the carcass and picking off the cooked meat for salad, tacos or chicken pot pie.

Happy freezer.

In the years since, I've butchered two other half pigs and a couple of lambs and watched a chef break down a goat. I'm convinced that if you care about how your meat is raised, whether from an ethical, environmental or quality standpoint, there's no better way to guarantee you're getting what you want than to buy it intact and butcher it yourself, especially if you buy direct from a farmer. Not many of us can do this 100 percent of the time, of course, but in my experience, it's cheaper pound-for-pound than buying pieces of similar quality meat at the butcher's counter in the store, and you get so much more for your money.

There are many local farmers who sell sustainably raised (as well as pastured) meat directly to consumers, and it's possible to buy chickens, ducks, pigs, cattle and goats in the local area. Most can supply either whole, half or portions of larger animals, and are happy to refer you to a packing plant that will butcher the animal for you. In the last couple of years Portland meat-eaters have seen several butchers start offering classes that can lead neophytes through the process of butchering. Some of those are listed in the calendar in the left-hand column.

Need A Quick Dinner? Pasta Arrabiata Fills the Bill

Pasta seems to be the first thing I think of when we need a quick and hearty dinner, whether it's bacon carbonara or sausage and garlic or a quick toss with a sauté of whatever's lingering in the vegetable bin. After all, boiling a pot of water takes no time at all, and a sauce can be made in the time it takes the pasta to cook.

A few weeks ago I got a big bag of dried Aci Sivri peppers (left) from Ayers Creek Farm at the Hillsdale Farmers' Market. It's a cayenne-like, long red pepper that originated in Turkey that gives a moderate kick when ground fresh. I'd been wanting to make an arrabiata sauce with them and some of the tomatoes I'd roasted and stashed in the freezer last summer, so one night when we needed something fast—okay, okay, I'd been sucked into the vortex of the internet and looked up to see it was frighteningly close to dinnertime—I decided it was the perfect time to give it a whirl.

Pasta Arrabiata

As mentioned above, I used the fabulous tomatoes I'd roasted and frozen the summer before, but while this recipe would work with any canned tomatoes, since there are so few ingredients, the tomatoes play a key role in the flavor of the final dish and it'd be worth using the best quality you can get. The amount of pepper will vary depending on the type of pepper used. Start with a little and add it to the sauce gradually until it suits you.

1 lb. dried pasta
2 Tbsp. olive oil
3 c. roasted, puréed tomatoes
2 Tbsp. minced garlic
1 tsp. freshly ground dried hot red pepper (or to taste)
Freshly grated parmesan

Bring a large pot of water to boil. While the water heats, place the oil in a medium skillet over moderate heat until it shimmers. Add the garlic and sauté briefly to warm it (watch that it doesn't brown), then add the tomatoes and red pepper. Bring to a simmer.

When the pot of water boils, cook the pasta till al dente, then drain and place in a serving bowl. Add the sauce and toss. Sprinkle with parmesan and serve with more parmesan in a small bowl on the table.

Crustacean Celebration: Don't Toss Those Shells!

In a previous post I called it a "Damascene moment." As when Paul of Tarsus was tossed off his horse and blinded whilst on a joyride to Damascus, I've had some mighty revelations in my culinary journeys. The one referred to above involved an admittedly pedestrian but delicious meatloaf, and the second was a head-slapper about corn stock made from freshly-shucked corn cobs that I'd been tossing into the compost for decades. D'oh!

The source material.

This week's landing-on-your-tailbone wake-up call happened when we had a dear friend over for Christmas dinner who doesn't eat red meat, immediately requiring the reconfiguration of dinner from a six-rib pork roast from the pig I'd just butchered to…what, exactly? Tuna loins were a possibility but were so, well, uninspiring to build a Christmas dinner around. Then, when other friends couldn't make a crab-centric Christmas Eve dinner, and being the flexible sorts we are, we subbed in pork chops for the evening's dinner and switched Dungeness crab onto the menu for Christmas Day.

It's a move Dick Button would have effused over as equivalent to a triple Salchow followed by a not-in-the-program quad Lutz, an audacious reconfiguration (though perhaps I exaggerate a tad…). In any case, both dinners were executed in delicious fashion, but I was left with a mountain of crab shells. I was bagging them up to throw in the compost bin when lightning struck. "Throw them out?" a voice boomed in my head, "Are you kidding?"

So many possibilities!

You see, I've become addicted to having fish stock on hand for fish-based risottos, paellas and chowders. But the stock made from the whole fish we buy, after roasting the carcasses, just doesn't supply enough to carry us for long. I'd read about making stock by boiling the shells from shrimp, and then my friend Hank Shaw posted about a crab stock he makes by adding vegetables and herbs to the shells. But since I prefer my stocks simple and unseasoned—the better to adapt to various types of uses—and with a pile of Dungeness shells at the ready, I simply threw them into a pot, covered them with water and let them simmer away for about 45 minutes on the stove.

Strained through a fine mesh sieve and cooled on the counter, I now have several quarts at my beck and call. Bouillabaisse, anyone?

For a plethora of seriously great crab recipes, from crab cakes to chowders to pasta dishes, see the previous posts in the series: 2009, 2010, 2011; 2012 and 2013.

Ho Ho Ho!

Wishing all of you and yours a very happy holiday, full of love and laughter. Thanks for reading!

Here's the Halloween version of my favorite neighborhood shrubbery.

Farm Bulletin: Purity That's Above Reproach

Seeds are the kernels from which farm families derive their livelihoods, a vital resource fostered and selected over many seasons for flavor, hardiness and quality. Contributor Anthony Boutard of Ayers Creek Farm was recently asked to submit some of his hard-won flint corn seed for testing, and reluctantly gave some up for that purpose, not out of fear of what might be found out, but because each one is a precious commodity, the end point of years of work.

We produce our own seed for many of the vegetables, legumes and grains we grow, reselecting each year for better traits and quality. This summer, Brian Campbell and Crystine Goldberg of Uprising Seeds asked if they could include some of our varieties in their 2015 seed catalogue. We agreed and the next thing you know, they need to check our corn seed for genetic contamination.

Is it good enough?

It was with a heavy heart that we posted seed to them knowing that those beautiful kernels would be completely destroyed and then probed for any violation of their purity. The reason we grow food is knowing the pleasure it gives the people who eat it, not to have it suspiciously handled by an uncaring and unloving lab technician.

We have recovered, but it took a psychic toll. For what it is worth, the purity of our Amish Butter and Roy's Calais Flint is unchallenged, free of any corrupting genes. We knew this intuitively from working with the corn so intimately, but the cold, clinical diagnosis provides additional validation of our effort. Ultimately, though, it is not the negative—non-GMO—that we are striving for, it is the lovely, rich flavor those two varieties of corn bring to the table. We are glad that we are of a mind with Brian and Crystine on this substantive point.

Classic with a Twist: Winter Squash Caponata

I've been on a tear with squash lately, so contributor Jim Dixon's most recent post fits the bill perfectly. Check his Real Good Food website to get the latest on his expanded holiday warehouse hours!

Winter Squash Caponata



Using winter squash instead of eggplant for this Sicilian classic wasn't my idea, but it's a really good one. I've written before about my preference for the big, pumpkin-y Cucurbit varieties, and since they provide a lot of squash to eat, I'm always looking for another way to use them. But you can make this with any good winter squash. You'll want about 3 cups of cut up squash.



Cut the squash into roughly 3/4 inch chunks (and always save the seeds; roast with olive oil and salt). Toss it into a skillet slicked with extra virgin olive oil and cook over medium heat. Toss in a chopped red onion, a couple of celery stalks, 2-3 cloves of garlic, a good handful of chopped green olives, and a couple of tablespoons of capers (from Pantelleria, of course). Add a good pinch of salt, too.



When the squash is tender (maybe 15 minutes), add a splash (2 tablespoons or so) of Katz Trio red wine vinegar, a healthy squirt of Three Brothers cane syrup (or a couple of tablespoons of sugar or honey), and about 2 tablespoons of tomato paste. Cook for another 5 minutes to let the flavors blend, then sprinkle with a few pinches of Pantellerian oregano. Drizzle with more extra virgin on the plate.



You can eat this warm as vegetable side, but I like it best at room temperature with good bread.

Farm Bulletin: A Soup to Sustain a Farmer

Though the Hillsdale Farmers' Market will not be in session this weekend—it has begun its twice-monthly winter season schedule, in effect through April—contributor Anthony Boutard of Ayers Creek Farm kindly provided an excellent recipe that will tide us over until the market convenes again on Dec. 21st.

Myrtha Foradori studied in southwestern Germany for two years. During that time she signed up for a weekly produce box that provided, among other vegetables, black radishes. Made aware of our insecurity with respect to cooking black radishes, she mentioned how much she enjoyed a simple soup prepared using the root. Myrtha kindly sent along the recipe.

Potato-Black Radish Soup

4-5 medium sized potatoes, chopped in cubes
Half of a big black radish, thinly sliced
1 big yellow onion, chopped
Some garlic, minced
Olive oil
About a glass of white wine
Enough vegetable or chicken broth to cover while simmering
Sour cream (optional)

Heat the olive oil in a soup pot over medium heat, add the onions and garlic and sauté. When the onions are translucent, add the potatoes and stir on medium heat. Add white wine. After it has evaporated, cover the potatoes with a fair amount of broth. Cover with a lid and let cook on medium heat. When the potatoes are almost done, add the black radish and cook for a short time until tender. Purée and season with salt and pepper. Serve with some sour cream.

The farm chef, Linda Colwell, prepared the soup today substituting butter for the olive oil, leeks instead of onions and no garlic, reflecting her northern European orientation. We sprinkled grated horseradish over the top. It is a very fine soup and, with specks of black skin from the radish, very attractive as well. Recommended.

Christmas Family Fun on the Water

Everyone loves a parade, and considering the importance of the Willamette and Columbia Rivers to the origins of Portland, it's no wonder that for the past 60 years that we've celebrated those waterways with their own parades.

It began with one guy festooning his craft with ribbons and bows and sailing up and down both rivers in his boat, but pretty soon his mates joined him in the fun and it became a holiday tradition. With nearly 60 ships signed up this year between the two rivers it's bound to be quite a spectacle. Check Christmas Ships Parade for the full schedule, along with suggestions for prime viewing spots, or you can make a reservation at Salty's on the Columbia for a comfy seat overlooking the river and a heated deck from which to view the procession.

In true Portland fashion they've taken to social media to live tweet the parades, so you can follow the minute-by-minute excitement from @ChristmasShips. They've even got separate hashtags for each river, so you can search for #WillametteFleet or #ColumbiaFleet for updates and photos. Pretty 21st Century for a 60-year-old!

Great Gifting: Give the Gift of Local

I always seem to draw a blank this time of year. It happens I'm running out of time to ship a package off to the East Coast or find a little something to take as a gift to the host of a gathering. Plus there's my "no tchotchkes, gewgaws or bibelots" rule, i.e. never giving anything that needs to be dusted. (Books—and I mean those physical object with the paper pages—don't come under that rubric.) So I decided to make a list of ideas for my own reference, and I welcome you to borrow any that fit your needs. (Or even add your own in the comments at the end of the post!)

The Store at Cooking Up a Story. My friends Rebecca and Fred Gerendasy have produced videos for many years about local food producers, farmers and the people who make Oregon's agricultural scene so vibrant, and they've just opened a store featuring some of the handmade products they've come across. Check out Nancy Arcement's fabric goats (top photo), perfect for cuddling, Debbie Dean's fanciful country ceramics or the best plum preserves you'll ever have in your life from Anthony and Carol Boutard at Ayers Creek Farm (left).

The Meat Box at Old Salt Marketplace. Ben Meyer buys his grass-fed beef, pork and poultry from small family ranches and farms and is making some of the most delicious housemade charcuterie in town. The meat lover in your life—or the host of the holiday potluck you've been invited to—will be thrilled with either the Salami Pack, a grab bag of sausages, thuringer and braunschweiger with mustard, pickles and cheese, or the Snack Pack, a muncher's dream of Slim Jims, landjaegers, knoblauchwurst, pickles and two kinds of cheddar cheese. Yum!

Seasonal Recipe Collection from Cook With What You Have. Do you have someone on your list who's wanting to start cooking meals that are healthier and more seasonal but doesn't have a clue what to do with a turnip or how to cook meltingly tender beans? A year's subscription to Katherine 's easy-to-make, easy-to-shop-for recipes will guide cooks on a budget through how to make the most of what's in season using pantry staples to eat deliciously.

Olive oil, salt, spices and other goodness from Real Good Food. Jim Dixon is expanding his offerings of the small-batch, artisanal olive oils that he imports directly from small producers in Europe, and his pop-up "warehouse" will be open frequently in the days leading up to Christmas. Think of a gift box of olive oil, sea salt and a couple of packages of fennel pollen and oregano from a tiny island in Italy, or mix and match from his other amazing products.

Gift Certificates from Portland's Culinary Workshop. Give the gift of knowledge to the person on your list who's wanting to expand their culinary horizons. Even newbies can benefit from learning how to hold a knife without slicing off digits, and who wouldn't love to crack the mysteries of pho, Chinese dumplings, the perfect artisan loaf or learn about cuts of meat by watching a master butcher work through a carcass? From personal experience I can tell you that giving this gift will return nothing but raves…and maybe even an invitation to dinner to demonstrate the skills they've learned!