Memorable Meals: Nostrana, Autentica, Tabla

The blurby nature of this grouping in no way reflects the quality of the meals at these three establishments; each was deserving of a full post on its own. Chalk it up to laziness on the writer's part.

I hadn't been to Nostrana for lunch for way too long, so when a friend that I hadn't seen for way too long wanted to meet on her lunch hour to catch up, it seemed like the perfect fit. It was a sunny, warm day and Nostrana had added a bevy of brightly colored umbrellas to the patio in front of the restaurant, as well as a bright canvas panel to block the breeze that seems to constantly flow up some invisible chute from the river. Most of the windows on the river side also slide open, so even if you're sitting inside it feels like you're dining al fresco, and diners are encouraged to adjust them to suit their tastes. And speaking of taste, there are few lunch menus in town as dependably awesome yet accessible as that found here. From salads to pizzas to the piatti lunch specials, there is almost no way you can go wrong. And splitting a salad, particularly their version of a Caesar made with radicchio or the albacore (left), and a pizza is not looked down upon. The wines by the glass, while terrific choices all, can almost double the cost of your lunch and I haven't had the courage to ask to split a glass, so I tend to stick to iced tea ($2.50).

Details: Nostrana, 1401 SE Morrison St. 503-234-2427.

* * *

A warm summer evening and meeting friends for dinner meant finding a restaurant that offered outdoor dining, wasn't too expensive and served killer drinks. Additional points were awarded for proximity to home. Fortunately, before we got to the spreadsheet stage (yes, it has happened…we're very nerdy around here), someone mentioned that Autentica has a charming patio (top photo), fabulous margaritas and wouldn't cost an arm and a leg. And, since again I hadn't been there in WTL (way too long), we made a date. We were ushered through the restaurant to a tiny back door that opened onto a spacious patio with plantings of tall cannas separating the long space into two "rooms." With the walls painted in bright, Mexican-inspired colors, we felt like we were back  in Mazatlan on the Plazuela Machado. The margaritas came almost instantly, and we dove into our guacamole, ceviche and queso fundido with handmade tortillas and chef Oswaldo Bibiano's signature trio of stunning chile salsas. Our entrées, including an enchilada platter, a filet of whole trout with a garlic epazote purée and a fall-apart tender carne asada with black-eyed peas (above right), were all crazy good, especially with a second round of those delicious margaritas. With that dinner in mind, I can't wait to try his new venture, Mextiza, scheduled to open on N Killingsworth later this summer.

Details: Autentica, 5507 NE 30th Ave. 503-287-7555.

* * *

When it's time to celebrate a major anniversary with a dinner out, we tend to go back to a favorite that never disappoints, is not outrageously priced and where we'll be treated like family. That's a pretty tall order and a very short list, and you'll not be surprised that, for us, Tabla on NE 28th is at the top of it. Not only is chef Anthony Cafiero a warm and funny guy who has a gas playing with his food, he gets that food from frequent trips to local farmers' markets. I know because I'm constantly running into him on whatever day of the week he needs to restock, loaded down with armloads of heavy bags and waving fronds. The night we went with my brother and his lovely bride, Anthony was offering his $28 three-course dinner with the likes of an appetizer of sous vide farm egg with ham, green beans garlic scapes and ricotta cream, a pasta course of Cavatelli with calamari, garlic and piquillo peppers with the Mar y Montaña (above left) entrée featuring Spanish octopus, pork chop, ajo blanco, cilantro and carrot foam. As I've mentioned before, Cafiero is still having huge fun making foams, infusions and smears without taking away from the real flavors of his market ingredients. And that's always worth coming back for.

Details: Tabla, 200 NE 28th Ave. 503-238-3777.

Deep Blue

Couldn't resist these gorgeous hydrangeas. Thanks to my neighbors for allowing me to clip a few!

Pie-Ay-Uh, Pie-el-lah

You like potato and I like potahto,
You like tomato and I like tomahto;
Potato, potahto, tomato, tomahto,
Let's call the whole thing off!

- from "Let's Call the Whole Thing Off" by George and Ira Gershwin

Whenever I mention that I'm thinking about making paella, Dave immediately says "Puh-AY-zhuh." He's not correcting me, he's merely referring to an episode of Lynne Rossetto Kasper's "Splendid Table" where the sexy, lushly accented voice of Anya Von Bremzen discussed the art of making…well…puh-AY-zhuh, forever changing the way he thinks of that word.

Recently we had friends coming over for dinner. They're big fans of anything cooked over a fire and we were discussing what might be fun to make for them. All the major animal and piscean groups were covered and nothing was striking that special "gotta have it" chord. Then I mentioned paella, and the above-mentioned conversation ensued.

And for those who've never made it, whether on a stovetop or grill, the ingredient list may look long, but it comes together quickly and easily once the chopping and dicing is done. I just put everything in small bowls on a tray (the diced chicken and mussels wait in the fridge), have the stock in a pan on the stove, and I'm good to go when the fire's ready.

For drinks to kick off the warm summer evening Dave made the very refreshing Souracher from local bartender extraordinaire Dave Shenaut while the paella simmered. When the pan was ceremoniously paraded from grill to table, we opened a bottle of the richly colored, dry 2010 Reflection Pinot Noir Rosé from Portland's own Boedecker Cellars followed by a 2001 Luis Cañas Rioja from my brother's wine shop, Vino.

With a simply dressed salad of garden greens, no matter how you say it, I call that a successful evening.

Paella on the Grill

This is a recipe I've written about previously but have modified over the years. It calls for Spanish chorizo and mussels, but you should feel free to substitute your own favorite seafood…just don’t use Mexican chorizo, an entirely different kind of sausage. It also works well on the stovetop cooked in a paella pan or a large skillet.

1/8 tsp. saffron
1/2 c. dry white wine
3 Tbsp. olive oil
1 large yellow or white onion, chopped
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 red, yellow, or green bell pepper or combination, chopped
2 lbs. chicken thighs, chopped in 1-inch pieces
8 oz. Spanish chorizo, sliced into 1/8" slices
4 c. arborio or bomba rice2 Tbsp. smoked Spanish paprika (called pimenton)
1/2 c. green olives, cut into thirds (we use Spanish anchovy-stuffed olives)
1/2 lb. large frozen shrimp, thawed and tails removed

6-8 c. chicken or fish stock
Salt and pepper to taste
1 lb. mussels or steamer clams

Place saffron in small bowl. Pour wine on top and allow to infuse at least 10 minutes while prepping other ingredients.

Build fire in barbecue grill. Once coals are white hot, spread coals in a single layer and place paella pan on the grill about 4 inches above coals. Pour in olive oil and heat till shimmering, then add chopped onions, garlic and pepper and sauté till tender. Add chicken pieces and brown lightly, then add chorizo and sauté till warmed. Stir in smoked paprika. Add rice and stir for 2 minutes, then add saffron/wine mixture, and stock until it just covers the rice mixture. Top with shrimp and olives. Salt and pepper to taste.

Place grill cover on the barbecue and cook for approximately 20 minutes without stirring, checking occasionally to make sure rice doesn’t get too dry. Add more stock or water as needed, allowing brown crust (called socarrat in Spanish) to form on bottom and sides without burning. Before rice is completely done, add mussels or clams hinge-side down so they stand up in the pan and their juices run into the paella. Serve when shells open and meat inside is cooked, approximately 3 minutes.

Farm Bulletin: Of Cabbages and Seed

I don't know about you, but I often find myself driving through rural areas past farms and fields, and unless it's some easily identifiable crop (like corn), or has a distinctive smell (like mint), I'm pretty clueless as to what the farmer is growing. In this bulletin, contributor Anthony Boutard of Ayers Creek Farm gives an idea of what we may be looking at.

Through the course of the year, we make several trips down the Willamette Valley to Sweet Creek Foods in Elmira. The trip takes us down the most beautiful part of the Willamette Valley. We have a choice of 99E or 99W, both slice through fertile farmland. Late last summer, we noticed a small cabbage field just south of Alder Swale outside of Amity. By the time we traveled down to make our preserves in late October, the cabbages had headed up nicely. Fifteen years ago, we might have assumed those cabbages would be shipped up to the Steinfeld's sauerkraut plant in Scappoose. However, in 2001, the company decamped to Illinois. The previous owners of our farm grew pickling cucumbers for the company, and one reason we own our farm now is the gradual withdrawal of Steinfeld's from Oregon in the late 1990s. 

Seed radishes interplanted with grass in Gaston.

At the end of March, we visited our friend Alice Doyle at Log House Plants in Cottage Grove. Alice has become the nation's leading expert on grafting tomatoes. As with other fruit crops, the grafter matches the tough, almost wild nature of a specially bred root stock, with a scion producing high quality fruit. New techniques have revived this old method of improving fruit grown as an annual, in particular, the development of a soft, silicone grafting clamp coupled with better characterized plants for root stock developed in the Netherlands and Israel. On the way back up 99W, we passed the cabbages and they were in full bloom. No cabbages had been harvested and field was carefully tended, indicating that the farmers were interested in something other than slaw or crocks of kraut.

Swathing cabbage stalks.

Passing the field in July, seed pods had formed and the plants were carefully staked to prevent the stalks from breaking. By now it was obvious that the field was planted as a seed crop. On Wednesday, another trip down the valley, and the stalks were cut and laid in rows, a process called swathing. This allows the seed to mature, cure and dry in the pod. Left on the plant, the pods would ripen, dry and shatter, spreading the seed in the field. Swathing makes the harvest of the seed manageable. Each plant produces about a half pound of seed. Our guess is that the seed crop is a valuable F1 hybrid. There are cabbages which do not produce viable pollen, called "male sterile" in the trade, and they are inter-planted with a pollen-producing variety. The resulting seed produced by the male sterile plants will be a controlled hybrid with carefully defined characteristics. The pollen bearing plants are removed from the field, leaving just those bearing the desired F1 hybrid seeds. The first male sterile cabbages were discovered in the 1940s. As with Alice's grafted tomatoes, carefully matching the characteristics of the pollen and seed bearing plants is important, and the heart of hybrid production.

Field of coriander in flower.

All through the southern Willamette Valley, there are seed house offices. The seed houses, headquartered in the Netherlands, Denmark, Canada and elsewhere, contract with growers to grow the crop. If you open a seed catalogue and order beet, spinach, chard, coriander, radish, or cabbage seed, chances are the seeds originated in the Willamette Valley. In particular, the valley is well suited to growing winter annuals. Just down the road from us, a farmer is growing a large field of French Breakfast radish seed (top photo). The pretty little cylindrical radishes are now in full flower. The field is growing two crops at once. Radish and grass seed were planted together, and when the radish seed is harvested the grass will continue to grow and produce a seed crop next year. Just south of Halsey, there are several large fields of coriander in full bloom, with the characteristic fragrance of cilantro, as it is also known.

Spinach raised for seed.

Radishes, cabbages and other members of the Brassica family, along with coriander, are insect pollinated. Spinach, chard and beets are wind pollinated, and are naturally dioecious, with pollen and seed borne on separate plants. If you pass a field with a distinct alternating pattern of a two or three rows of smaller plants, and ten to 15 rows of larger plants, it is probably one of these three crops. The larger plants produce the seed. This year, there are a lot of spinach seed fields planted in the valley. Hybrid seed corn, also wind pollinated, is planted with a similar alternating pattern. The plants destined to produce seed are detasseled. 

To keep the various varieties true to type, seed producers must isolate their fields from similar crops. The distance varies by crop and pollination method. To sort it all out, the normally secretive seed companies use a pinning map posted on the neutral ground of the local extension office. Seed production is a challenging and exacting form of industry. We produce a substantial amount of our own seed on the farm, and we will stress again that the reason is quality and variety choice, not economics. Buying seed is cheaper and easier, and we are grateful for the good seed breeders out there.

Photos by Anthony Boutard.

Getting Noticed

It was an odd day. First I get an e-mail from the Oregonian asking me if I'd be interested in participating in their online News Network program. Then a shopping website for young fashionistas decides to feature GoodStuffNW in their monthly Best of the Web roundup. And, last but not least, the publisher of a site for alt-DIY types, Punk Domestics, wants to repost my write-up about making nocino. As Gomer Pyle would have said, "Goooooooooolly!"

You Won't Miss the Meat

Summer grilling isn't all about searing big hunks of animal flesh, and contributor Jim Dixon of RealGoodFood whets my appetite for the tsunami of summer vegetables that are ready to flood local gardens and markets.

Even thought what we longingly call summer seems to be slipping by quickly, the last few days have been beautiful, and the warm weather leads to sitting outside in the evening for hours. I made dinner for old friends tonight, and this dish, improvised from the vegetables I’d planned to be a sort of ratatouille, was just right.

Summer Ratatouille with Grilled Vegetables, Tomatoes & Capers
 
Let me first repeat what’s become my rule for grilling vegetables: do not use any oil before grilling. I’ve yet to find plant material destined for a hot fire that needs it, and the oil just burns. Leave the vegetables dry.

Slice an eggplant into rounds, summer squash into long halves, a couple of bell peppers (any color, but red or yellow are best) into quarters, and a couple of leeks in half lengthwise. Grill them over hot coals, turning as often as necessary to get nice and brown. Remove to a platter when done, then cut into smaller chunks (quarter the eggplants, etc., just to make serving easier; or not). Top with a few good tomatoes, cut into pieces about the same size as the grilled vegetables.

Pour on a quarter cup or so of Katz Late Harvest Zinfandel or one of the other amazing Katz Orleans method vinegars, drizzle generously with your best extra virgin olive oil, sprinkle with flor de sal and toss on a couple of tablespoons of salt-packed capers, rinsed and soaked in cold water for 15 minutes. If you’ve got some fresh oregano or other herbs in your garden, sprinkle some over the top. Best, I think, at room temperature.

Growing Food, Building Community

 

Growing up in a largely rural state like Oregon, you'd think people would be all been there, done that about where our food comes from. I was lucky growing up with relatives who were cattle ranchers and allowed their crazy-about-horses city girl niece to go on cattle drives and hang out at the ranch during vacations. At least it gave me some idea of the work involved in producing the food that appeared on our family table.

Students on a farm tour at Zenger Farm.

But here in DIY Portland there are kids (and many adults) who couldn't tell you what a brussels sprout plant looks like, or point to the part of a live chicken that hides the drumstick. It's not a stretch to say that the closest a lot of city folk get to actual farm animals is a petting zoo at the pumpkin patch.

The wetland at Zenger Farm.

Fortunately we have a place like Zenger Farm, a unique partnership between the City of Portland and a non-profit organization that encompasses a six-acre working organic farm and a 16-acre wetland inside the city limits. Originally owned in the 19th century by Jacob Johnson, a sawmill operator and Johnson Creek's namesake, a portion of the original 320-acre property was bought by Ulrich Zenger, a dairy farmer and proprietor of Mount Scott Dairy. His son, Ulrich Zenger, Jr., sold the land to the City of Portland in order to protect it from commercial development and preserve the Johnson Creek Basin and Watershed.

Greenhouse at Zenger Farm.

Currently it's a working urban farm with a CSA, and sells its produce at area farmers' markets as well as to local restaurants. It also coordinates matching money for food stamp recipients to be able to buy, cook and eat local foods and is piloting an innovative SNAP (food stamp) CSA model program. Recently Zenger added Furey Field, a 5-acre community garden space adjacent to the farm that will become 1,000 new garden plots for low-income households in the surrounding Lents and Powellhurst-Gilbert neighborhoods.

As if all that weren't enough, it also holds public workshops and summer camps to teach young people and adults that healthy food comes from healthy soil, which can be anywhere—even in the city. And all of the money raised by all of these activities goes right back into programming, making it a truly worthy endeavor.

To celebrate all this work, and just because its a great time of year to be outside on the farm, Zenger is holding two Farmhouse Suppers on August 13 and 14 at the farm. Intimate, with only 20 people each evening and dinner provided by the estimable Mark Doxtader of Tastebud and wines made by Ben Thomas of Montinore Estate Winery, it should be a summer night to remember.

Come if you can and, if you can't, be sure to plan a visit to Zenger Farm for a tour of the amazing work they're doing on our behalf. It'll make you even more proud of your city!

Details: Farmhouse Suppers at Zenger Farm. Aug. 13 and 14, 5:30 pm; tickets $100, reservations required. Zenger Farm, 11741 SE Foster Rd. 503-282-4245.

Farm Bulletin: The Heralds of August

She's been a long time coming, but it looks like summer's finally decided to make her debut and a showstopper she is. Long, warm days are shepherding the long-delayed fruits and greens to market, and farmers up and down the valley are heaving a sigh of relief. Contributor Anthony Boutard brings us up to date on the season.

The heralds of August, the cicadas (above), started to emerge today with their reedy wing songs. They are also a tasty snack for the acorn woodpeckers and flickers. The birds dart back and forth trying to catch the cicada on the wing, a behavior called "hawking." When we first came here, there were no cicadas, but the same habitat improvements that brought the woodpeckers probably made it a good home for the insects as well.

We are in the middle of dressing our field of Chesters (left) for her August harvest. The rows are mowed close to the ground, passing over each twice with the powerful flail mower. Not quite Wimbledon standards, but close. It is slow work, and we will probably finish up after market tomorrow. The careful grooming of the rows makes the field comfortable; removing rough spots and old cane fragments that might trip a tired person. Staff walked the rows checking that the drip irrigation was working well, and that the clips that guide the water to the plants are all in place. They also searched for hornet nests, which we have to burn with a large torch in the early morning. Tolerated elsewhere on the farm, hornets are unwelcome in the berries where staff approach them at face level.

The field will receive one last shot of foliar food. It is a witches brew of decaying kelp and nettles, gypsum, a sprinkle of sea salt and fermented fish. The field will challenge the nose for a day so, but at the end 48 hours, no trace of odor remains. By noon, we have acclimated to the aroma, and a tuna fish salad for lunch is our version of the "hair of the dog." We had hoped to apply it Friday morning, but a mere dribble was delivered by the sprayer. So in the cool of the morning when we should be working the fields, out come the spanners and sockets. The sprayer has a pair of innovative controls called hu-valves developed by Hugh Rear of Rear's Manufacturing in Eugene. After ten years, they needed some heat, penetrating oil and a ball peen hammer to free them up. The diaphragms were cracked and will need to be replaced, but a coat of silicone caulk will give them a few more hours of life. By the time everything was bolted down and the valves working, the wind had picked up and it was also too hot to spray.  

The final step in dressing the field is setting up the pipes for the overhead watering. When the temperature breaks 90°, we have to cool it down during the day. One time early in berry growing we got caught with our proverbial pants down when a 100 amp fuse blew on a Sunday afternoon, and there was no spare. About 40,000 pounds of fruit was destroyed that afternoon, and we are completely neurotic about cooling the fruit. You barely move without find a fuse tucked in here or there.

Cicada photo by Bruce Martin from Wikimedia Commons.

The Un-Negroni

I once had the audacity to call the negroni "the best cocktail in the world," expecting an eruption of indignation from manhattan-lovers, martini-swiggers, even bloody mary true believers. Whether no one gives a fig about my opinion or the fact that I backpedaled to safety by admitting my love for other cocktails and saying it was just my favorite cocktail, I never heard a peep from the Angry Internet Men or anyone else, for that matter. Fine.

I've been served other drinks that purported to be negronis, those containing Fernet or Carpano or other such variations that weren't bad, mind you, just not that delicate dance of sweet and bitter and cool that the classic gin-campari-vermouth combo does on my tongue. Someone once served me a "white negroni" made with verjus that set up a totally wrong expectation that fell quite literally flat.

Other cocktails mimic the combination and have the decency to not fall in the "call it a negroni and people will be more likely to try it" camp. The Boulevardier is a terrific example, taking the basic negroni recipe and making it into something completely new and distinct.

Dave, bless his soul, in his neverending quest to find new and delicious beverages, ran across a recipe for a negroni-like drink called "The Unusual Negroni" on the Hendrick's Gin website. Unusual it was, made with Hendrick's, Lillet and Aperol. We tried it and…meh. So he made another version, this time using Cocchi Americano and a lemon twist and…aaaaahhhhhhhhhh! And while it will never replace our beloved negroni, it's a really good cocktail deserving of its own distinct identity.

The Fluorescent

1 oz. gin (Dave used Gordon's)
1 oz. Aperol
1 oz Cocchi Americano

Shake. Pour. Add lemon peel twist.

Yes to Nocino!

Walnut trees are ubiquitous on Portland streets and, along with horse chestnuts, are known for the heavy orbs they drop in autumn. Considering these trees can get more than 100 feet tall, I'll leave it to you figure out the terminal velocity of a green walnut plummeting from that height and what it might do to the roof of your car (or you) should you be unlucky enough to be passing beneath it when it falls.

Jason about 40 feet up the tree harvesting walnuts.

Though the history books are sketchy on whether it was intentional, the ancient Celts prevented the unripe green walnuts from launching their reign (or rain?) of terror on passersby by picking them and steeping them in alcohol to make a dark brown liqueur. The Italians thought this was a great idea and dubbed it nocino (pron. no-CHEE-no).

Cathy Whims using Zen-like concentration to find just the right leaves.

When contributor Jim Dixon of RealGoodFood informed me that he would be making nocino one afternoon last week, I promptly invited myself over. Expecting to document a complicated process of harvesting and distilling, I arrived to find Jim presiding over a very Italian repast of vino verde, fabulous charcuterie from Marco Frattaroli of Basta's, bread and homemade pimento cheese (yes, I'm begging him for the recipe). Joining him were Cathy Whims and David West, who would be taking some of the walnuts back to Nostrana to make their own batch of the liqueur.

Halving the walnuts, filling the jar.

No fool, Jim had wisely arranged for his young friend Jason Messer of Madrone Arboriculture to climb the very tall tree and harvest the walnuts. Somewhat relieved I wouldn't have to shinny up the trunk myself, I was happy to scamper about on the ground, picking up the nuts that fell and untying the full buckets that Jason and his friend Nick lowered to the ground.

Adding the alcohol.

After several buckets were gathered, Jim pulled out his trusty cleaver and began whacking them in half and tossing them into a gallon-sized glass jar. When it was full, he stuffed in a few of the tree's resinous leaves for extra flavor, filled it with 180 proof grain alcohol and screwed on the lid. It will sit outside in his garden for a couple of months, then just about the time the weather starts cooling he'll strain out the nuts and leaves, add some simple syrup and have a lovely liqueur that he says is perfect to take skiing or to have in front of the fire on a wintry night. Sounds good to me.

Jim Dixon's Nocino

1 gallon-size glass jar
30-40 green walnuts
1 gallon ‎180 proof grain alcohol, known as Everclear (in Oregon it's Clear Spring and is available from select OLCC stores)
Walnut leaves, optional
Simple syrup (3 parts sugar to 4 parts water mixture)

Halve walnuts and fill jar, adding a few leaves at the end if desired. Fill jar with alcohol and secure lid. Place outdoors. Within a few days it will look like used motor oil. Wait at least two months, then strain out nuts and leaves. Next, Jim says, "I'd recommend diluting the walnut-flavored alcohol with an equal amount of syrup, which gives you 90 proof nocino, then trying it to see if you like it 'hot.' If not, you can add more plain water and/or syrup to dilute it down. Around 80 proof (40% alcohol) is what I like, which is 2 parts alcohol to 3 parts syrup/water." Great as is or over ice cream for dessert.

Fitting Tribute

No one could write a lovely, looping sentence quite the way our friend Joel could. This, for instance, was how he described one of his favorite Portland places:

"Lone Fir is the resting place of an astonishing variety of those who’ve come to be the city’s natives: along with pioneers and their descendants, there are Russians, Cambodians, Japanese, and Chinese whose families immigrated—some of them generations ago—and stayed." And though we're known for our rain, hippies and volcanoes, he said that they are merely "minor annoyances when compared to the city’s surpassing loveliness. Actually, the hippies are part of the charm, like colorful garden dwarves scattered amidst the tall firs."

The Famous Publisher.

We'd known him since his days as a designer, writer, art and food critic and self-described Famous Publisher of a literary rag called Mississippi Mud that predated zines and graphic novels but was a precursor to them all. He and his ladylove Cheryl also lived a couple of blocks away from us in Sellwood, where he showed Dave how to barbecue a whole turkey on the grill (for which Dave honors him every winter holiday by standing in the rain or snow and raising a pint over our bronzed prize), offered advice on how to repair an aging Victorian and was always available for two parents who couldn't find a sitter and desperately needed a night off.

Pre-unveiling quilt made by artist friends in Puerto Rico.

When he passed away in Puerto Rico from a sudden diagnosis of what-the-fuck-do-you-mean-I've-got-lung-cancer in 2007, his ashes were buried in that same Lone Fir cemetery where a coterie of Portland's literary glitterati bade him adieu. Not to be outdone in the monument category, his friend John Laursen, himself a writer, designer, editor, typographer and printing maven of crazy capabilities, took it upon himself to coordinate, with Cheryl's advice, the design and production of a fitting monument.

Honoring Joel's proclivities including reading, writing, drinking coffee and eating, as well as his love for all things having to do with Mexico's Día de los Muertos, it's a simple yet, shall we say, "avant garde" design that will give others in the neighborhood a run for their money. With type by John, art by Sharon Bronzan and a proprietary color job by Elite Granite and Marble in Hillsboro (they wouldn't even let John watch as they applied it), it provides those of us who loved Joel a marker to wave at as we drive by on our daily errands. 

And, maybe once in awhile, even a place to share a piece of pie.

Read previous posts about Joel: What Goes Around, about his publication Rotund World; Famous Publisher Has His Cake wherein the FP visits and I share a fabulous recipe for Chocolate-Orange Carrot Cake; and the self-explanatory An Appreciation: Joel Weinstein, Famous Publisher.

Basque Inspiration

You gotta love food stories that start with a romance…they practically write themselves. Like when I was interviewing Ethan Bisagna for a story on great farmers' market meals and he mentioned that when he was a butcher at Clyde Common he met a kindred spirit in sous-chef Ashley Brown. I had to restrain myself from shouting, "Gold!"

He loved her passion for the foods of Spain and its Basque culture, developed over years of travel, cooking and eating there. Their mutual love of good food got them talking about building a business, which led to building a life together. Ethan recently left his post as head butcher at Laurelhurst Market to launch Feastworks with Ashley, selling their sausages and charcuterie at the Beaverton, Northwest Portland and Woodstock farmers markets.

One of the sausages they make is chistorra, a long, thin, richly spiced sausage packed with the flavors of her favorite region. I bought a few at a recent stop at Feastworks' Beaverton market stand and brought them home to throw on the grill for dinner. The question was, what to have with it that would complement but not compete with its lovely spiciness?

I was pondering making a rice dish, and when I mentioned it to Dave he said, "Oh, like paella?" and a brand new favorite was born. The grilled sausages alongside were fantastic, but you could just as easily treat them like traditional Spanish chorizo, cutting them into 1" chunks and throwing them into the pan before you sauté the onions and garlic.

On egin!*

Basque-inspired Rice

10-15 threads saffron
1 tsp. salt
2 Tbsp. olive oil
1 onion
2-3 cloves garlic
2 c. arborio rice1 tsp. pimenton (Spanish smoked paprika)
1/2 c. dry white wine or rosé
4 c. chicken stock
1 c. tomatoes, chopped in large chunks or hand-crushed if canned
1/4 c. piquillo peppers, chopped
10 green Spanish olives, chopped (I use Spanish anchovy-stuffed olives)
1 bay leaf

Put saffron and salt into mortar and grind until saffron is crushed. Set aside.

Heat oil in skillet and add onion and garlic. Sauté over medium heat till translucent. Add rice and stir for about a minute, then stir in pimenton and saffron salt. Add wine and stir until liquid is absorbed, then add stock, tomatoes, piquillo peppers and bay leaf. Bring to a strong simmer, then reduce heat to low and cook until rice is done. If it gets too dry, add liquid but don't stir; a little browned crust, called socarrat, on the bottom is a good thing. Adjust salt and serve.

* Basque version of "bon appétit."

In a Pickle About Dinner?

I am in awe of contributor Jim Dixon of RealGoodFood for so many reasons…he works hard, he has a fabulous garden, he's a terrific writer and he makes good food from whatever fresh ingredients are at hand. Oh, yeah, and he's a genuinely nice guy. Here's a cold grain salad of his that I'm going to be making this summer to go with grilled meats or to have all by itself.

The weeks I do the farmers' market are long. I’m at the day job all week, and then my days off are consumed by getting ready and actually being at the market. But I love the seeing my regular customers and meeting new ones, the folks who haven’t discovered how good real extra virgin olive oil can be. So despite feeling a bit ragged, I really don’t mind.

However, I’m writing this Sunday evening, and I have another long day tomorrow. All of which is rationalizing why what follows may not really qualify as a recipe. But it does taste good.

Sort of Pickled Farro Salad

I had some assorted vegetables from Groundwork Organics in the refrigerator and I needed to come up with something for dinner. I cut up a few radishes, red and daikon, a carrot, cucumber and a bit of green cabbage (smallish, bite-sized pieces). It all went in a bowl, and I poured in some Katz late harvest Zinfandel vinegar (the Zinfandel, Sauvignon Blanc, and Viognier Honey all have what Italians call agrodolce, a sweet and sour flavor). A healthy pinch of flor de sal, a quick stir, and I set the bowl aside for a couple of hours for a sort of quick pickle.

Just before dinner, I tossed the vinegared vegetables with a bit of leftover cooked farro and a substantial drizzle of extra virgin olive oil. Quite tasty.

See the RealGoodFood website for his upcoming PSU market dates.

Farm Bulletin: Fabulous Frikeh

Last week I was fortunate to have the chance to go to Ayers Creek Farm in Gaston and watch the process involved in taking frikeh from field to table. Contributor Anthony Boutard is one of the only farmers in the United States producing this ancient foodstuff, and its extreme seasonality makes it an unparalleled treat.

Frikeh (freekeh, farik, etc.) is parched green wheat and a Middle Eastern specialty. We prepare it using the traditional method of collecting heads of wheat while the grain is still green (left), burning them (top photo) and then threshing the grain from the head. The process produces a jade green grain that is slightly charred and has a smoky quality. Although durum wheat is usually used, we have started using the much thinner-skinned soft red wheat, producing a more tender grain.

The parched wheat.

Using fire to process green grains is also practiced in southern Germany where spelt is roasted to produce grünkern, and in the southwestern United States where unripe corn in the soft dough stage is roasted and dried to produce chicos with their own characteristic light smokiness.

Anthony loading the parched grain into the threshing machine.

To prepare frikeh, rinse well in couple of changes of water. Pull out any errant hulls or chaff. Drain and put in a saucepan. Add water to about double the depth of the grain, or more. Bring to a boil and then simmer 45 minutes to an hour. Drain, salt as desired and store in the refrigerator without liquid.

The threshed grain, called frikeh, is spread on screens to dry.

At this point, the grain can be used in many different dishes. It appeals to the most careful vegans and raw meat omnivores. In it simplest use, we use frikeh to build a seasonal grain salad along the lines of tabbouleh, using olive oil, lemon juice, mint, parsley, cucumbers, and tomatoes, and perhaps a bit sauteed summer squash. Chef Naoko Tamura of Naoko Bento adds frikeh as a topping for her seasonal salads using a traditional Japanese soy and rice vinegar dressing.

Stacked screens are spaced apart to facilitate air circulation; the grain dries for two weeks.

Frikeh is delicious with yogurt and buttermilk. Nostrana serves a buttermilk and frikeh soup based on a similar soup from Deborah Madison's "The Savory Way."Linda Colwell guided us in putting together an Ayers Creek version of this soup. It uses two cups of frikeh in a quart of buttermilk. Add a couple tablespoons each of fresh cilantro and dill, a tablespoon of ground coriander toasted gently in a dry pan, and two cups of purslane whole if very young, or chopped coarsely. Linda also brought a jar of her tuna, and we made a tuna and frikeh salad (recipe on her blog).

Cold frikeh and buttermilk soup.

Yesterday, we prepared the Middle Eastern dish kibbeh using frikeh. In its traditional form, raw lamb is mashed with bulgar wheat in a mortar with parsley, onion and mint. The mixture is dressed and served raw as a tartar. Unfortunately, the raw version is seldom served in restaurants, and it is more often roasted with addition of spices. In our version, we ran a half pound of lamb through a meat grinder and then mixed it in with the herbs and frikeh. We dressed it with olive oil and lemon juice, and served it with salad and Siljans, the round rye crisp bread. Linda brought a pan of dolmas, stuffed grape leaves, to complete the feast.

Frikeh and albacore salad.

Frikeh is also very good in heated dishes. Egyptians stuff fowl, usually pigeon and chicken, with frikeh. Add it to a mix of sauteed vegetables. Its gentle smokiness and grassiness is welcome summer fare. If you plan on storing the frikeh, we suggest pouring it into a glass jar and keep it in the freezer. This preserve its quality. It is shelf stable, but the flavor drifts away over time. For us, though, it is linked with the flavors and texture of summer, and we have no inclination to prepare it in the winter.

In Season NW: Mushrooms, Markets, Mergers

Local chefs went wild when Viridian Farms debuted their padron peppers and again when Olympic Provisions brought out their take on Spanish chorizo. And it looks like it's happening again with the pioppino or black poplar mushrooms that Roger Konka and Norma Cravens are cultivating at Springwater Farm. Always quick with a quip, Roger's dubbed it "the poor man's porcini," which trips off the tongue much more easily than its Latin name, Agrocybe aegerita.

Details: Pioppino mushrooms from Springwater Farm. Available at Portland Farmers' Market at PSU, Hillsdale Farmers' Market, Lake Oswego Farmers' Market and Westmoreland Farmers' Market. Links, hours and maps on the Oregon Farmers' Markets page.

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Instant hits are usually reserved for the latest pop culture phenomenon. But PDX-ers, in their lust for ever-more-local food sources, jumped on Chef Noe Garnica's Verde Cocina almost as soon as it debuted at area farmers' markets. Now it looks like the family business is going all bricks and mortar with a retail outlet in Hillsdale at the location recently vacated by Kurt Spak's blink-and-it's-gone Caffe Autogrill. Look for the fresh Mexican fare you've come to love like fajitas, chilaquiles and tacos made with local meats and seasonal vegetables, plus new menu items courtesy of expanded kitchen capabilities. And in the space next door vacated by Spak's Alba Osteria, rumored tenant Ramsay's Dram vanished without a trace to be replaced by Sasquatch Brewing, a new 7-barrel brewpub started by Portland native Tom Sims. Mexican food and beer? Sounds like a pairing made in heaven!

Details: Verde Cocina, 6440 SW Capitol Hwy. 503-750-2722.

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Big news broke this week from Hollywood…no, not Tinseltown, but the Hollywood neighborhood's eponymous farmers' market…that they are taking over the smaller but vital Lloyd Farmers' Market. It began began in 2007 as part of a grant to promote active living and healthy worksites and was managed by Eamon Molloy, market manager at the innovative Hillsdale Farmers' Market. "Hollywood has the experience to further the growth and success of the Lloyd Farmers Market. Adding debit and EBT services [will be] a big plus to this market," said Molloy. Location and hours remain the same, and Lloyd will continue to serve office workers and neighborhood residents as well as giving the Hollywood Farmers' Market a mid-week presence. Hollywood also announced it will officially be going year-round on first and third Saturdays from December through April, fulfilling neighbors' requests and its vendors efforts to develop "cutting edge season extension techniques," according to market manager Sarah Broderick.

Details: Lloyd Farmers' Market. Open Tuesdays, 10 am-2 pm year-round; Thursdays, 10 am-2 pm, June-Sept. In the Oregon Square Courtyard on NE Holladay Street between 7th and 9th Aves.

A Vietnamese Bistro to Love

Growing up in small-town Central Oregon had its advantages. Even in elementary school I could ride out alone on my bike to the edge of town, park it and spend hours climbing up and down the canyon walls looking for lizards without causing my mother a second of worry. In the summer I could walk or,  if forced, shepherd my two younger brothers for an afternoon in the cool blueness of the local pool.

Our food choices, however, if it was more than canned or frozen vegetables and meat, were somewhat limited. There was a steakhouse for special occasions, and an A&W drive-in where waitresses would carry out a tray with our order of burgers and root beer (7Up for me) and clip it to the driver's window. The sole ethnic food available was dispensed from a Chinese restaurant called Johnny's that featured chow mein and egg foo young—exotica to me back then.

Over the years we'd taken my folks to a Thai restaurant here and a pho place there, though when I parked outside a Japanese eatery my mother pulled me aside as we were about to walk in and said, "Now, honey, I just want you to know I'm not going to eat any of that raw fish." Though by the time we walked out she'd was smiling broadly about her bento lunch of teriyaki chicken, and I can almost swear she had a tiny bite of my sashimi…but maybe I'm making my own wishful memory.

A place we could have taken them with no qualms at all, however, is Bambuza Vietnam Bistro, a three-restaurant chain owned by Daniel Nguyen and his wife, Katherine Lam (above left). She'd grown up cooking for her large family while her parents worked two jobs to support them, so when Daniel and his mother opened the first Bambuza in Seattle, Katherine quickly learned her mother-in-law's recipes. When the couple moved to Portland to be closer to Katherine's family and Daniel's mother retired, they decided to close the Seattle restaurant and open their own in Portland.

The menu is full of the salad rolls, noodle soups, noodle bowls (top) and entrées familiar to fans of Vietnamese cuisine, with a focus on fresh ingredients made on premises. Katherine's soups are made from broths that develop their layers of flavor from hours simmering on the stovetop, though she's quick to point out that she does make substitutions for traditional ingredients like congealed pork blood that some customers might find off-putting.

The other difference is the decor, all dark wood with dramatic lighting from oversized silk lanterns hanging from the ceiling. Like I said, a place my parents would have loved. I just wish that our small town had one like it when I was a kid…between that and the lizards, I might never have left.

Details: Bambuza Vietnam Bistro. Three locations: 19300 NW Cornell Rd., Hillsboro; 3682 SW Bond in Portland's South Waterfront; 7628 SW Nyberg St. in Tigard.