Food-G

How to Subscribe to My New Blog: The Sunday Dinner Revival

2011-02-14T08:57:00.000-08:00

Hello Dear Food-G Fans and Followers,

And Happy Valentine's Day. Gosh, I miss you! And I miss connecting with you here on Food-G, but as you know, the time has come to move on to bigger and better blogging.

Many of you contacted me when I announced the big move with cries of anguish. Okay, maybe not anguish. But you were concerned, nonetheless, that you would no longer receive my posts in your inbox, all easy and convenient-like. Well, fear not! For I have made sure that you will be able to receive those same easy and convenient emails from my new blog, The Sunday Dinner Revival.

If you haven't checked it out yet, YOU ARE MISSING OUT on stuff like:

Ad Hoc's Fried Chicken and Potato Pave

My Signature Sweet Skillet Cornbread

or Zuni Cafe Roast Chicken with Bread Salad

Because I know some of you would appreciate a walk through with the new email subscription, I am at your service. Just follow these easy-as-pie steps and every single post (about 2 per week) will show up in your inbox for you to peruse at your leisure.

HOW TO SUBSCRIBE TO SDR VIA EMAIL
1. Go to my new fancy-pants blog: The Sunday Dinner Revival
2. Just below my head shot and welcome message you will see two "Subscribe" buttons. Click on the ENVELOPE for email subscription.
3. A window will open (from FeedBurner). Enter your email address in the box and follow the instructions to type the anti-spam code.
4. If you entered the info correctly, a new window will open alerting you that your request has been accepted, and informing you that A VERIFICATION EMAIL will be sent to your inbox. When it shows up (usually within minutes), open the email, click on the link to verify the subscription, and BAM! All done. Now you will never miss a recipe, a story, a photo, or a laugh from yours truly.

Here's another subscription option you might be curious about:

HOW TO SUBSCRIBE TO SDR VIA RSS FEED
So what is all this RSS business, you ask? RSS stands for Real Simple Syndication. RSS allows you to subscribe to all your favorite blogs and websites, but instead of sending the content to your email inbox, it stores it in your own personal RSS Feed page, aka"Reader," aka"Aggregate." Think of it as your personal newsstand, where you have hand-selected every magazine and newspaper on the shelf.

Subscribing via RSS may be appealing if you find yourself signing up for way too many EMAIL subscriptions, and ending up with inbox-overload. You can have your little stack of magazines and catalogs on a "digital coffee table", which is usually easy to find on your internet browser. On my version of Internet Explorer, there's a little RSS icon in the tool bar, which looks like this:

When I click it, a list of the most recent content from the sites I've subscribed to comes up. So if you think you want to become an RSS subscriber (heck, why not do both!), just follow these steps:

1. Go to my fancy-pants new blog: The Sunday Dinner Revival
2. Just below my head shot and welcome message you will see two "Subscribe" buttons. Click on the RSS icon (similar to the one shown above).
3. A window will open, powered by FeedBurner. The best thing to do if you're new to RSS is click on the link that says, "Learn more about syndication and FeedBurner." A page will open that explains all the ins and outs and walks you through stuff like choosing a "Reader". If it all sounds like Chinese to you, just do the email subscription. It's easier : )

And finally, one last humble request: Blogging is a labor of love, and it takes a devoted readership to generate the kind of following that makes the work worth doing. Sharing these recipes and stories with you has been an honor, but I need you now, more than ever, to tell your friends about The Sunday Dinner Revival. Put a link on your Facebook Page, send out an email, whatever works, just help me build an audience so that I can keep bringing the flavor to your table. Much obliged.

With Love and Gratitude,

Food-G

Food-G: A Blog in Review

2011-01-05T17:01:00.000-08:00

It's been a good ride, but the time has come to close the curtain on Food-G. Don't cry. I'm not abandoning you! Just moving... to a place where you can find all the stories, photos, and recipes you've enjoyed here, but with a clearer mission and many improvements.

My new home is called The Sunday Dinner Revival. Go ahead and take a peek, but please excuse the metaphorical sawdust and cardboard boxes. I'm still putting on the finishing touches. Later this month, I'll invite you to the Grand Opening, once everything is in place.

For now, I think it's important to honor the time we've had here with a little reflection on the Food-G journey. So, get cozy, make a cup of tea, and take a stroll with me down memory lane...

It all began April 24, 2009. It was a time for comfort food and my first post was this recipe for Chicken Jook, aka Congee.

Chicken Jook with Ginger and Scallions

I was living in employee housing, while Noah was away on contract. The economy had just tanked I decided that it was time to focus my writing on food. Noah returned to Juneau that spring, and we found a wonderful place to live for what would be our last summer in Alaska. I miss taking photos from that deck, like this one:

Roast Chicken Brie and Fig Sandwich with Asparagus "Fries"

We soaked up every little detail we could from Alaska, etching details like the sight and sound of a humpback's misty plume into our memories.

There were barbecues:

Crock Pot Pulled Pork

There was berry picking:

View "Tess's Jewel Berry Crisp"

There were warm days in the sun:

Cucumber Watermelon Licuado

The very long days began to grow shorter and before we knew it, it was time to move on:

View "Blueberry Cottage Cheese Pancakes"

We didn't know where we were headed. We only knew we were ready to find home. While we waited for some direction, we hopped on Aunt Pam and Uncle Win's sailboat in Miami, and didn't get off until we reached St. Lucia, 38 days later.

Sailboat Cookery 101

We were grateful to have such a special adventure, and lots of time to stare at the ocean.

View "Do You Fon-Do?"

Eventually, we had to return to our life, and all the big questions that needed answering. Where were we going? And what would we do when we got there?

Have you ever heard the saying, "Leap, and the net will appear?"

Noah and I were called back to the place where we fell in love: Montana. There was a glimmer of a possiblity of a job there for him, which would allow us to know, for the first time in 5 years, where we were going to be in 6 months. It was year round , versus contract work, and it was the kind of position that has very low turnover. It could be weeks before something opened up. It could be years.

We got in the car and headed West on a wing and a prayer. After crashing with friends in Missoula for a few weeks, and deciding we didn't want to sign another lease, we moved into a hotel. We lived there for 2 months, eating continental breakfast, and cooking dinner on our 2-burner kitchenette while we waited and hoped and willed things to work out.

Food-G was there through it all, a constant in a sea of change. In fact, it was in that little hotel room that I wrote my highest hitting blog post of all:

Lady Budd's Basted Eggs

It was also in that hotel room that we found out, in the course of one life changing day, that the offer we made on a house had been accepted, AND a position had opened up and Noah got the job.

Have you ever laughed and cried at the same time? I felt the full rainbow of emotions that day, but most of all gratitude and RELIEF.

In March of 2010 we moved into our very first home. We had gotten a good deal on a little 2-acre spread we named The Ranchito. Fixing it up became a full time job. We moved a lot of dirt and made our first and only house rule: If you don't have a shovel in your hand, you don't get to complain.

Morel Mushroom Crepes

In August, yet another of our lifelong dreams came true, when we brought Pablo home.

View "Creative Dog Treats"

Oh man, was he ever worth the wait. He is the most fun, silly, lovable companion we could have ever hoped for.

Before we knew it the leaves were turning. My new website, The Sunday Dinner Revival, was under construction. I had moved into my newly renovated office, the holidays were just around th corner, and we gave ourselves a much needed break from projects on the house.

Butternut Squash Mac and Cheese

Thanksgiving rolled into Christmas,

The Turkeytini. No gravy necessary.

and suddenly BOOM! It's 2011. New home. New job. New life. Heck, it's time for a new blog. And not just a new blog, but one that really digs into the meat of what it is that we've been sharing here on Food-G; a celebration of life's table and all that it brings.

Thank you, dear Food-G readers, from the bottom of my heart, for being a part of this journey. You have left comments, shared ideas, offered support, told stories. It has meant everything to me, and I thank you for being the hub of this wheel.

It's time to leap again, into new and exciting possibilities. I hope you'll come with me, and we can continue to gather at my new and improved table.

Big, huge love,

G.

Buttermilk Pie with...Duck Fat and Vodka Pie Crust?!?!

2010-12-19T12:43:00.000-08:00

Last month, around my birthday, my sister Kim called from Seattle to let me know a package would be arriving. Kim is an amazing pastry chef, and said it was being overnighted, so I knew it was going to be something delicious. We had a bunch of friends in town for the Built to Spill show at the Wilma, and they were here when the box arrived.

"Ooooh looky here everybody!" I called. "My sister sent me a birthday package, and I bet it's something we can eat."

Everyone gathered around the big brown box while I slit the tape and opened it up. The air prickled with anticipation. I reached in between the layers of packing material, and pulled out a jar.

"Homemade cornichons!" I exclaimed.

Murmurs circulated around the room..."What the heck is a cornichon? I dunno? Me neither...Some kind of pickle I guess..."

I reached deeper into the box and found a frigid cold plastic bucket. I grasped the handle and hoisted it up, reading the label aloud for all.

"Rendered duck fat," I said. "It's an eight pound bucket of duck fat!"

Many pairs of eyes gazed at me in confusion. The room went silent.

"I get it!" I laughed, "You bring the duck fat, I'll bring the cornichons!"

More silence. More confused eyeballs.

See, Kim's girlfriend Angie and I had this inside joke going on Facebook. She's the chef at this super swanky hotel, and we're always talking shop. Angie and I had decided that she and Kim needed to come to Montana for a visit, so we could chef it up together. "I'll bring the duck fat!" she said, to which I replied, "I'll bring the cornichons." And then we both LOL'd.

Chef humor.

I ROTFL'd, before stashing my bucket of white gold in the freezer. Nobody got it but me and Kim and Ang, but that's okay. I just explained to my pals that sometimes when you're a food person, you get birthday gifts like 8 lb. buckets of duck fat in the mail. Funny thing is, the next day I got a box of hand-crafted Michigan cheeses from my Mom, and a box of Montgomery Inn's pulled pork and baby back ribs, and Graeter's Black Raspberry Chocolate Chip ice cream from my bro. I made out like a bandit.

Duck fat delights: Smashed potatoes with sea salt.

I Facebooked Angie to let her know the fat had arrived and we exchanged ideas about all the things I could do with it. Duck Confit, Duck Rillettes, Duck Fat Smashed Potatoes, Duck Fat Roasted Brussels Sprouts, Duck Fat Fries, and ...Duck Fat pie crust?

Yes. Duck fat pie crust. Kim had judged some pie contests this past summer, and told me that hands down, the best crusts are made with a combo of butter and animal fat, like lard. So I thought, why not duck fat? A hasty search revealed that yes, people certainly do use duck fat for pie crusts, both sweet and savory. It has quite a bit of rich, animal flavor, so you want to use a low ratio of duck fat to butter, but apparently It makes a mean crust.

I also came across the idea of using vodka in the crust. What?!? Yes. Vodka in pie crust.

Replacing about half the water typically used in a pie crust, with vodka, apparently has two benefits. It adds enough moisture for the crumbly pie dough to stick together and roll out nicely. It also evaporates during baking, so the resulting crust is light and flaky, leaving almost no alcohol flavor. If you didn't tell anyone you used it, they'd never know it was in there. My curiosity was piqued.

It just so happened that it was Thanksgiving time and I wanted to bake a couple of pie's for the weekends festivities, one of which was this Southern Buttermilk Pie.

A college roommate had introduced me to Buttermilk Pie many years ago. I had never so much as heard of it, but one bite, and I never forgot.Think of it as a custard pie, somewhere between Creme Brulee and Flan. You can gussy it up with a fresh berry sauce, but it really doesn't need it.

Buttermilk Pie is a crowd pleaser, even among lukewarm pie eaters. If you haven't had it, you're missing out. I always wanted to make one, and was reminded of it when I heard Natalie Y. Moore talk about it on NPR's "Kitchen Window." I printed her recipe and it's been floating around in my stack of recipes to try for the last couple of years.

The recipe Moore used is identical to many of the classic Buttermilk Pie recipes available online. There are variations, but Southern reviewers almost unanimously claim that this is the one they remember from their childhoods.

I stuck to the recipe, pouring the custard into my duck fat and vodka pie crust. The consensus? Well, people pretty much freaked out. I'll admit here that I am a lukewarm pie eater myself, so the appeal of a bomber pie crust is somewhat lost on me, but all at the table, especially my friend Mona, a bona-fide pie crust queen, said it was the best she'd ever had. Noah agreed, and he doesn't make those claims lightly. As for the filling, everyone at the table loved it, and couldn't believe that Buttermilk Pie wasn't more well-known.

Making a dent in the duck fat

I promised Mona the recipe, so here it is, for all to see. I think it would make a lovely addition to your holiday table, be it Southern, Northern, Eastern, or Western, but Buttermilk Pie is great any time of year.

Classic Southern Buttermilk Pie
(from Natalie Y. Moore, for NPR's "Kitchen Window")

This recipe is easy as... well, you get it.

3 eggs
1 cup sugar
2 tablespoons flour, plus extra for dusting
1/2 cup butter, melted
1 cup buttermilk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 unbaked 9-inch pie shell

Preheat oven to 325. In a medium mixing bowl combine eggs, sugar, and flour and stir to combine. Add melted butter and mix well. Add buttermilk and vanilla and stir to combine.

Dust the unbaked shell lightly with flour. Pour filling into shell, and use a fine wire mesh strainer to evenly dust top of filling with a bit more flour.

Place pie on middle-rack of preheated oven. Place a rimmed baking sheet on the rack just below the one the pie is on, to catch any drips. Bake until top is golden and custard is set, about 1 hour. Pie may be served warm, room temperature, or chilled. Store in refrigerator for up to 2 days.

Duck Fat and Vodka Pie Crust
(makes 2 single 9-inch pie crusts)

I'm going to buck pie-crust tradition here and tell you that I don't chill the butter. If that's how you make your crust, that's fine, but I'm a lazy baker, and I think it's much less cumbersome to cut the fat into the flour when it's a bit more pliable than the super cold butter most recipes prescribe. When it's a bit soft (but not mushy room temp), you can even use your finger tips to work it in. It still maintains the little bits of fat that make pie crust light, flaky, and tender, and after being chilled for an hour, it rolls out easily, especially when you use the plastic wrap method outlined below.

2 1/2 cups flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons powdered sugar
16 tablespoons (2 sticks) unsalted butter, cool but not chilled
1/4 cup rendered duck fat (you can substitute lard)
1/4 cup ice cold water
1/4 cup vodka

Combine flour salt and sugar in a mixing bowl and stir to combine. Slice butter into pats and add to flour along with duck fat. Cut the fat into the dry ingredients using a pastry blender, a food processor, or your finger tips. Continue working the fat in until the mixture resembles very coarse meal.

Add cold water and vodka and stir just until ingredients are moistened. Divide the dough into two balls. Place each ball on a large square of plastic wrap, and flatten into circular discs, about 1-inch thick. Wrap tightly in plastic and refrigerate at least 1 hour before rolling. If pressed for time, you can speed the chilling process by placing in the freezer.

When ready to roll, unwrap the plastic, and place the dough disk in the center of the sheet. Place another large sheet of plastic wrap atop the disk and use a rolling pin to roll out the crust to about 11 or 12 inches in diameter. The plastic omits the need to flour your work surface or rolling pin. Peel one sheet of plastic from the dough, and use the remaining sheet, sticking to the dough, to lay the shell into a 9-inch pie plate. Trim the edges and then crimp by pinching with your fingertips, or pressing lightly with the tines of a fork.

The Ultimate Smoked Salmon Spread

2010-12-13T15:21:00.000-08:00

Last week, I was zipping around town in a holiday frenzy, looking for supplies for an article I was writing on edible homemade gifts. You can read that article, including 6 simple spice mixes, and a recipe for Dark Molasses Cranberry Granola, on Nourish Network. I zoomed to the spice store and the craft store and the fabric store. Then out to the hills to take Pablo for a walk. I zipped back into town to grab something to eat with Noah, while we discussed all the items we needed to put up a tree and hang some lights. Seeing that this is our first tree in our first home in our first hometown, we pretty much needed everything, from tree stand to ornament hooks. More zipping, zigging, zagging, and zooming. A blur of traffic lights, parking lots, and check out lines. We squeezed in a few of the never-ending errands that have come with our first year at the Ranchito-- look at snowblowers, go to the furniture store for the 15th time, pick up some ice melter from the hardware store. Sometime in the late afternoon, as the light was just beginning to fade, I looked at my phone. I had forgotten the ringer was off and I had missed 2 calls.

"#@*&!#@%!!! I missed my massage!!!"

My in-laws had bought me a massage for my b-day (thank you very much), and I had been looking forward to it all week. That morning, I scanned my calendar and thought, "Yay, massage today, 3pm." By the time I realized what had happened, it was 4:30.

I got that feeling in the pit of my stomach, you know, the sinking kind that comes from knowing that not only did you miss something, you screwed up someone else's day. Time and money were surely lost for the massage therapist. I called the spa.

"Hi, I had an appointment today, and I . . . well I don't know what happened. I think I got caught in a holiday time warp."

The receptionist laughed and said, "Yeah, I think that's been happening to people. We've had a lot of spaced appointments this week."

It was kind of a relief to know I'm not the only one. I was reminded again of the holiday mind melt reading my friend Kate's blog, A Life Like This One, where she likened her holiday state of mind to a, "Category 5 hurricane." And she reminded me that this is a time of year for togetherness, celebration, family, friends, and peace. Somehow, we have to hold that sacred, and make choices that create space for what's important.

In the whoosh of December, it's easy to miss the important things. My lesson this year is that as I enter the month of December, it's best to check my ambitions at the door. For example, while on deadline for that article, I needed to come up with a dish to pass for a Christmas party. I told Noah I was going to make salmon dip, then roll it in cream cheese and build a snowman, complete with a little path of grass clippings fashioned out of dill, a scarf made of shaved carrot ribbon-- complete with fringe, peppercorn eyes, and thyme stems for arms. Oh the edible wonderland I was going to create!!

"And when are you going to write this article?" Noah asked in reply, bringing me back to Earth.

"On second thought, maybe I'll just mix it up and put it in a bowl, " I said, "...with a dill sprig."

So that's what I did. And it was easy, and it was good, and ya know, it was enough. I made a lot of progress on my article that day, and felt relaxed going to the party, ready to bring some holiday cheer versus holiday stress. Oh that tightrope...she's a thin one. I wish you luck in walking your own this holiday season, in finding time to sit and admire the lights, to watch the snow fall, to remember the magic we knew as children, when it was our parents who were working their butts off to create happy holiday memories (Thanks Mom).

I had that massage, finally. After offering my heartfelt apologies for spacing out last week, the massage therapist generously gave me a most healing hour. She took me back home, back to center, where I am here, and only here. No zipping, no zooming, no doing, just being; aware of the truth that the important thing is not to impress people with salmon dip dioramas, but to show up.
So when it's your turn to bring a dish to pass, and you want to make something that comes together quick, but is still special enough for the season, try this salmon spread. Just remember not to spread it, or yourself, too thin ; )

Smoked Salmon Spread (makes 2 cups)

This recipe was originally published in my Local Flavor column for The Juneau Empire. You can view the article here.

There are many ways to make salmon spread but, at least in my mind, this is the ultimate. Addicting, easy, and luxurious. Popular go-withs for salmon spread are buttery crackers (I like Late July Organic’s Classic Rich Crackers because they’re light yet sturdy), pumpernickel cocktail bread, bagel chips, or Lavosh-style flatbread.

8 ounces smoked wild Alaskan salmon (use hot smoked, aka "kippered" salmon, not lox)

4 ounces cream cheese

¼ cup sour cream

¼ cup mayonnaise

½ teaspoon Louisiana-style hot sauce

2 tablespoons capers, drained and roughly chopped

2 tablespoons chopped walnuts (optional, but they add some nice texture)

2 teaspoons cream horseradish

2 teaspoons finely chopped dill, plus extra for garnish (or fresh chives)

1 teaspoon lemon juice

1/8 teaspoon freshly ground pepper

1. Break the salmon into small pieces, discarding skin and bones. Set aside.

2. Place the cream cheese in a medium, microwave-safe mixing bowl. Microwave on high, 30 seconds or until softened.

3. Add all remaining ingredients (except salmon) to the cream cheese and stir to combine. Add flaked salmon and using a rubber spatula, fold into mixture until thoroughly coated.

4. Place in a serving dish, and garnish with extra dill. Keep refrigerated until ready to serve. May be made 1 day in advance.

Thai Beef Salad

2010-12-05T09:24:00.000-08:00

Happy Holidays Food-G readers! We are one full week into the season of eating-- pun intended! Are you ready for something lighter yet?

Ahh the holidays... So good for the soul. So bad for the pants button. It's amazing how quickly it happens too. Over the course of a long Thanksgiving weekend I think I ate my own body weight in turkey, stuffing, gravy, pie, chex mix, prime rib, baked potatoes, and more pie . This morning, in the mild fog of a friend's super-fun Christmas Bash, I am reflecting on last night's hors d'oeuvre dinner: shrimp dip, salmon dip, spinach dip, queso dip, cured meats, cheeses, asparagus rolls, grilled beef skewers, and a couple of lil' smokies thrown in for good measure.

Don't get me wrong, I love the season's eatings (sorry, couldn't help it). Holiday food is so good, especially when consumed with family, friends, and a glass or two of holiday cheer. But in between feast days, it feels good to restore balance.

Noah and I fell in love with Thai Beef Salad in the little Australian surf haven of Byron Bay. I can't remember the name of the restaurant, but theirs became the hallmark for what would become our quest to recreate the ultimate. It's been eleven years since that trip to Oz, and we've had plenty of time to nail down a version we love. So without further adieu...

Thai Beef Salad (serves 4)

Topped with slices of marinated tri tip, still warm from the grill, this is a salad that will satisfy every part of you. One of the best parts is the Nam Jim dressing: salty, sour, spicy, sweet, and totally oil free.

There are a lot of components here, but this meal lends itself to some superb piggy-back cooking. Marinate a little extra beef and use the leftovers to make this Vietnamese Steak Sandwich. Add a little of the Nam Jim dressing to rice noodles, throw in some pickled carrot (from the steak sandwich), along with chopped cucumber, bell pepper, bean sprouts, peanuts, cilantro, and crispy shallot and you've got a light and zippy noodle bowl to take to work.

1 or 2 heads bibb lettuce (depending on size), washed, dried, and torn into pieces
1 red bell pepper, cut into matchsticks
1 carrot, coarsely grated
1/2 cucumber, peeled, seeded, and cut into matchsticks
Thai Marinated Beef (recipe below)
Chopped green onion
Fresh cilantro leaves
Dry roasted peanuts, chopped
Crispy Shallot (recipe below)
Nam Jim Dressing (recipe below)

On dinner plates, arrange lettuce and top with chopped pepper, carrot and cucumber. Add slices of marinated and grilled beef, and garnish with green onion, cilantro, peanuts, and crispy shallot. Drizzle lightly with Nam Jim dressing and serve.

Thai Marinated Beef
The pineapple juice in this marinade helps tenderize otherwise tough cuts of beef like flank steak. If using a large piece of tri-tip, cut into smaller hunks for more even cooking. Lightly score flank steak in a cross-hatch pattern before grilling to prevent the meat from "curling". Let rest 5 to 10 minutes after removing from grill, and always slice across the grain when serving.

2 to 3 pounds flank steak or tri tip (tri tip is fattier and more tender)
6 ounces pineapple juice
2 tablespoons brown sugar
2 tablespoons fish sauce
2 tablespoons soy sauce
1 lime, zest and juice
1 teaspoon sea salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
pinch chili flakes
2 cloves garlic, pressed or minced

Combine all ingredients, pour into a large plastic Ziploc bag, and add meat. Marinate 4 to 6 hours before grilling over medium-high heat, 4 to 6 minutes per side, or until desired degree of doneness has been reached.

Crispy Shallot

1 tablespoon grapeseed or canola oil
1 1/2 cups thinly sliced shallot
pinch salt

Heat a medium skillet over high heat. Add oil, and when shimmery add sliced shallots and salt. Cook, stirring 7 - 10 minutes or until dark toasty brown. Watch closely. They can burn quickly at such high temps if neglected.

Nam Jim Dressing

2 med. garlic cloves
pinch salt
2 tablespoons fish sauce
3-4 bird's eye chilies, seeds removed for less spicy version (or sub. a pinch of chili flakes)
2 tablespoons chopped fresh cilantro
2 tablespoons palm sugar (best), raw turbinado sugar (better), or light brown sugar (good)
2 1/2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lime juice
2 tablespoons finely minced shallot

Combine the garlic, salt and chilies in a mortar and pestle and grind to a paste. Add cilantro and continue to pulverize. Combine with sugar, lime juice and shallot and stir until sugar has dissolved. Alternately, combine all ingredients in a blender or food processor and blitz until well-blended.

Turkeytini: A Thanksgiving Cosmo

2010-11-24T10:58:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving, year by year, is rising in the ranks as my #1 favorite holiday. There are a number of reasons for this:

Aside from some serious grocery shopping, the spirit of Thanksgiving hasn't been diluted with consumerist hype they way some other holidays have.
It's a holiday with no dividing lines, at least within the U.S., it's a holiday everyone can celebrate.
It's all about food. On Thanksgiving, we unite around the table to do two things: give thanks for our bounty, and EAT! We fill our bellies together, and appreciate the blessing of fullness.
It's simple, it's beautiful, it's delicious, and it's all about the most transformative force in the Universe: Gratitude. We each have things to be thankful for, and somehow, reflecting on them inspires generosity. Gratitude, I've found, works like that every single day of the year.
And of course there's my newest reason, which I'll present to you in just a moment.

Last Thanksgiving I shared a story with you called, "Spirit of the Raisin," about bringing deep presence to the ritual of eating. It's one of my all time favorite posts, but this Thanksgiving, I offer you a different flavor of holiday spirit:

MARTINIS!!!!!!!!!

The Turkeytini
(Makes 2 cocktails)

This Thanksgiving-inspired cosmo is a festive, rosy-hued cocktail. Some very good friends gave us a beautiful bottle of Yazi Ginger Flavored Vodka from Hood River Distillers, which I highly recommend if you can find it. If not, use plain vodka, and toss a few coins of freshly sliced ginger root into your cocktail shaker. Hubs and I really enjoyed the uh, "recipe testing" for this one. ; )

In a cocktail shaker combine:

4 ounces Ginger Flavored Vodka (or substitute plain and toss in a few slices of fresh ginger root)
2 ounces cranberry juice
Juice from 1 freshly squeezed grapefruit
Juice from 1 freshly squeezed lime

Add plenty of ice, shake well, and pour into martini glasses. Garnish with one of the following:

A twist of grapefruit peel
A slice of lime
A thin slice of fresh ginger

Enjoy! But please, not if you are driving. Have a wonderful Thanksgiving dear Food-G readers. I will be counting you on my gratitude list in a very big way tomorrow.

Tuscan Style Pot Roast : A Ski Bum's Dinner

2010-11-22T07:53:00.000-08:00

Fall has ended here in Western Montana. Boom. Done. Kaput. Finito!!!

Last Wednesday a cold wind blew the last of the leaves away and fleece jackets were traded for down ones. Stylish sportster caps were traded for knit woollies with ear flaps. Anklets and running shoes were traded for thick Smartwools and winter boots. The snow began to fall in white waves, dusting, melting, dusting again, and now, staying put. Big flakes are flying this very moment, and the view from my office looks like a freshly shaken snow globe. The heat of summer is so fresh on my skin, it's hard to believe our highs this week are in the single digit range.

The ski areas are set to open right on schedule, and that makes me a very happy girl. Skiing is what brought me to this state 15 years ago. Oh, that and college ; ) It's also what overlapped my path and Noah's. I met him on a weekend trip to Big Sky. He was a lift operator there, and a snowboarder. He had long hair like The Black Stallion, and it was love at first sight.

As soon as we started dating, Noah got me into snowboarding, and I haven't really been skiing since. Maybe once a season, but I fell as madly in love with the sensation of surfing through deep, cold smoke powder, as I did with Noah.

That's me after doing some backcountry riding in Rogers Pass, B.C., New Years Day 2008

I've been a knuckle dragging shred betty for the 14 years we've been together. Now, in keeping with what has become our, "Life Under Renovation," all that is about to change. Noah and I are switching to skis.

Non-skier/snowboarder types might miss the significance of this transition, but to us, and to our clan of Montana snow bums, this is BIG. By no means am I abandoning my beloved snow stick, but all I can say is that I haven't been this excited to hit the slopes, well, since the heli ski industry stole my favorite riding buddy 5 years ago. See, Noah had this dream to be a heli ski pilot in the Chugach Mountains of Alaska. These were the mountains we watched in ski movies, back when he was bumping chairs in Big Sky. It was a good dream, and he did it for about 4 ski seasons in a row, collecting some of the most spectacular memories a person can claim.

Noah flying the A-Star in Alaska's Chugach Range.
Note**: In case you have no idea what heli skiing is, he dropped skiers off on the tops of those mountains, and picked them up after they had skied to the bottom.

The only problem-- nay, 2 problems: 1) We had to endure 3 solid months and most of the ski season apart, and 2) The pilot doesn't get to ski!!!!!

Okay, maybe he got to ski a little. There's Noah in the yellow circle, coming down the backside of the Mendenhall Towers. Juneau, AK.

That's Noah, and that's why I love him, but I am very glad he's back now. We have remodeled our set-up for our new life, and some new two-plank adventures.

Any night now, I will have the first of the season's snow dreams. The kind where I can do anything, huck any cliff, rip any chute, thread my way trough perfectly spaced trees, the snow falling in glittery clouds as I pass. Flying, floating, on bottomless powder with a face full of snow, headphones blasting Beastie Boys. I'm giddy just thinking about it. I wonder though, will my first snow dream of the season find me on one plank, or two?

***************************
Mmmmm.... On to winter food. Ski food. Warming-up-after-a-day-in-the-snow food. This pot roast uses lots of flavor and slow braising to turn a cheaper cut of beef into a luxurious supper.

Tuscan Style Pot Roast

(4 to 6 servings)

Adapted from a recipe for Italian Pot Roast or "Stracotto" in The Joy of Cooking. I used their technique of piercing holes in the roast and stuffing with a fresh herb paste to infuse the meat with flavor. I also added complexity with some aromatic spices in the tomato-based braising liquid. Many Italian Pot Roast recipes mention that it is almost always served with polenta, but I couldn't resist the tender bite of some long linguine pasta paired with the meaty-rich tomato sauce. For an ultra-nutritious and lower-carb option, try serving over roasted spaghetti squash.

P.S.- The leftovers make great oven-toasted sandwiches. Split open a soft hoagie or kaiser roll, top one half with some of the sliced roast, and a bit of the tomato sauce. Top the other half with sliced mozzarella or provolone. Place open-faced on a baking sheet, on middle rack of oven, under the broiler until heated through and cheese is bubbling. Toss in a handful of chopped fresh arugula or spinach if you like.

2 1/2 to 3 pound chuck roast
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
1 tablespoon chopped fresh sage leaves
2 teaspoons chopped fresh rosemary
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 teaspoon kosher salt
freshly cracked pepper
1 medium onion, chopped
1 cup diced carrot
1/2 cup diced celery
1/4 cup water
A dash or two of ground cinnamon
A dash or two of ground clove
A dash or two of ground allspice
1 1/2 cups dry red wine
1 tablespoon tomato paste
1 - 14 ounce can crushed tomatoes

Using the garlic, and fresh herbs, either make a paste using a mortar and pestle, or very finely mince. Using a small paring knife, make about a dozen deep slits in the roast, and stuff with about half of the herb mixture, setting the rest aside for later use. If necessary, wipe excess herbs from surface of roast with a paper towel, so they don't scorch when you brown the roast. Sprinkle the roast on all sides with 1 tsp. kosher salt and freshly cracked pepper.

Heat a medium (5-quart), non-reactive dutch oven with a tight fitting lid, over medium-high heat. Add olive oil to pan, and once heated, add the roast. Sear the roast until well-browned on all sides, monitoring the heat so that a nice brown crust (i.e. fond) forms in the pan without scorching. This may take up to 20 minutes.

See that nice brown crust both on the roast, and in the pot?
I'm rather fond of "fond."

Once browned, remove roast from pan, and set aside. Immediately add chopped onion, carrot, celery, and water. If you have some, sliced mushrooms would also make a nice addition. Use a wooden spoon or spatula to scrape any browned bits from bottom of pan. Saute until vegetables are very soft, 7 to 10 minutes.

Add ground spices, red wine, and tomato paste. Bring to a simmer and let bubble until liquid is reduced by half. Add crushed tomatoes and remaining fresh herb paste, and stir to combine. Nestle the roast into the sauce, spooning some of the liquid on top of roast. Bring to a simmer, and reduce heat to lowest setting possible while still maintaining a low and slow simmer.

For a small roast like this, it's best to flip the meat about every 20 to 25 minutes. I used to think pot roast was done when the meat shredded easily with a fork, but by that point, the meat is not only stringy, but dry. The meat will be tender and more juicy if it is not cooked to the "shred" stage. A roast this size may be done in as little as 1 1/2 hours, but may take up to 2 1/2, so give yourself some leeway with dinnertime. The Joy of Cooking recommends testing for doneness by slicing 2 small pieces from end of roast. If the inner slice is firm-tender and a bit moist, the roast is done. There may even be some pink in the center of the roast.

If necessary, skim fat from top of cooking liquid once the roast is done. Taste and adjust seasonings. Remove the roast from the liquid, slice across the grain, 1/4-inch thick, and serve with polenta, potatoes, or pasta, and generous scoops of the sauce. A simple green salad and the rest of the red wine make lovely accompaniments to this soul-warming meal.

Here's us at the beach, on a little island outside of Cordova, on one of my visits to heli ski "man camp".

Food-G Followers, Meet Nourish Network

2010-11-17T11:14:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, embedded in the ocean of people that surrounds us, there are special people, stand-out people, visionaries who devote their life's work to being part of the solution. Using my blog to share uplifting information with you, and to support those hardworking visionaries in their efforts, is one of the most meaningful things I can use my voice for.
Food-G readers, there's someone I want to introduce to you...

In case you don't already know her, meet my friend and mentor, Lia Huber. Lia is doing amazing work from the launchpad of her vibrant online community, Nourish Network. Her mission: "Nourishing body, soul, and planet with every bite."

I rarely use my blog to promote products or people, but this is important, and not only because I've recently written a couple of articles for her.

If you want to skip straight to my story on the importance of cooking with the whole animal, including a recipe for Cremini and Short Ribs Ragu, go right ahead.

Or if you'd like to read my Thanksgiving tips, including a recipe for Wild Rice Salad with Pistachios and Golden Raisin Vinaigrette, be my guest.

While you're there, tootle around Nourish Network and you're sure to find inspiration to help you enjoy good food.

Lia knows that it's not just what we eat, but HOW we eat that sustains us. Nourish Network is about good food, not "diet" food. It's about loving our bodies enough to put good things inside. And it's about how doing that impacts the world around us, like the ripples from a rain drop.

Through a steady stream of engaging food articles, videos, and group or individual counseling, Lia helps people improve their relationship with food, by shining a light on new pathways, helping us learn to love eating in a healthier way-- a less self-destructive way. Lightbulb moment, anyone?

Having walked her own harrowing path of disease and near-death diagnoses, Lia walks her talk. Just knowing her has made me feel more vibrant, alive, and committed to making the best choices I can, both in my life at the table, and away from it. So check it out! Join the community! Enjoy! Learn! Glean! Be inspired!

That is all dear Food-G readers. I know you will be as glad to have crossed paths with Lia, as I am.

Lemon Chicken Breasts with Mushroom Caper Pan Sauce

2010-11-10T09:37:00.000-08:00

Dear Noah was home from work yesterday with a pinched nerve in his neck. He tried sitting, laying, moving around. Nothing was comfortable. Sometime in the late afternoon, he finally fell into the deep sleep of someone who has been in pain all day.

He slept and slept and I didn't want to wake him from what would hopefully be a healing rest. It was getting close to dinner time and I needed to get cooking. The problem was that I was making Chicken Piccata for dinner.

Chicken (or Veal) Piccata consists of thin cutlets of meat, pounded with a mallet, lightly floured, browned in butter, and served with lemon. Sometimes a pan sauce is made with capers, butter, mushrooms, shallot, and more lemon. Considering our bedroom's proximity to the kitchen, going to town on some chicken with a meat mallet would be like, totally uncool. Plus, it was getting late. It had been a long, chaotic day of catching up from my trip to San Francisco, and I didn't really feel like taking the time to deal with cutting and pounding eight or ten pieces of sliced chicken breast.

But could I make whole, pan-seared, Piccata-style chicken breasts that were worth eating? Would they be dry and boring and lacking flavor? Would the floured exterior burn before the breasts were fully cooked?

Turns out the answers are yes, no, and no, in that order.

This is a mallet-free, weeknight version of Piccata-style chicken. Faster, easier, and still delicious enough to serve to company on a Sunday night. You might call it, "Lazy Man's Piccata", or "Piccata for People with Sleeping Spouses." Whatever you call it, just be sure and do one thing: make this dish.

Noah woke up just as I was snapping the last of the photos and getting ready to fill a couple glasses with the leftover white wine. Seeing, smelling, and tasting good food put a smile on his otherwise pained face, and that made the whole meal taste that much better.

Lemon Chicken Breasts with Mushroom Caper Pan Sauce
(Serves 3 to 4)
Adapted from "The Best Recipe," published by Cook's Illustrated

3 tablespoons of oil and butter might sound like a lot to saute the chicken, but don't be tempted to skimp. The fat, in combination with high heat, is key to a chicken breast with a lightly crisped exterior, and juicy interior. You won't be adding additional fat to make the pan sauce, so this turns out to be a relatively light version of this dish. I served this with some simple roasted squash, but angel hair pasta tossed with a little olive oil, Parmesan, and garlic salt would make a simple and lovely accompaniment.

2 teaspoons extra virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
few grinds black pepper
1 large clove garlic, pressed or very finely minced
1 1/2 pounds boneless, skinless chicken breasts

1/4 cup flour
1 1/2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 1/2 tablespoons butter

1/2 cup dry white wine or chicken stock
6 ounces (2 cups) sliced mushrooms, button or cremini
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
few grinds black pepper
1 tablespoon capers, drained
1 teaspoon flour
1/2 cup water
1 tablespoon roughly chopped parsley
Lemon slices, for garnish

In a medium mixing bowl combine first 5 ingredients, and stir to combine. Add Chicken breasts and toss to coat. Let sit while you slice the mushrooms.

Place 1/4 cup flour in a shallow bowl or pie plate and dredge chicken breasts in flour, coating all sides.

Set oven to 200 degrees. Heat 1 1/2 tablespoons each of butter and olive oil in a large nonreactive skillet** (see note) over medium-high heat. Butter will foam and then subside. When it begins to turn light golden brown, with a faint nutty aroma, it's time to add the chicken breasts to the pan. Cook breasts 4 to 5 minutes per side. Use tongs to flip as necessary, and lower heat as needed, to prevent scorching.

When chicken feels firm to the touch, remove to an oven-proof plate or serving platter, and place in warm oven. Immediately add white wine or chicken stock to the pan. Use a wooden spoon or spatula to scrape the browned bits from the bottom of the pan. Reduce liquid by half. Add mushrooms, 1/4 teaspoon kosher salt, a few grinds black pepper, and 1 tablespoon capers. Continue cooking over medium-high heat, stirring occasionally until mushrooms have released their liquid and the pan is nearly dry.

Add 1 teaspoon flour to mushrooms, stirring to combine. Add 1/2 cup water, bring liquid to a simmer, and reduce by half, or until a light sauce-like consistency is reached. Add chopped parsley and stir to combine.

Taste and adjust seasonings. If you used chicken broth in place of white wine, you may wish to increase the acidity with a spritz of fresh lemon juice.

Spoon mushroom mixture over chicken breasts, garnish with sliced lemon, and serve.

** A Note on Pan Choice: Best choices for creating this kind of pan sauce are stainless steel or enameled cast iron, because they get a nice brown crust, or "fond" on the cooking surface, and are non-reactive. When liquid is added and the fond is scraped up, these brown bits add tons of rich flavor. Nonstick will do just fine if that's all you have, but won't produce much fond, or the same rich, brown flavor. Also, since this dish uses acidic ingredients like lemon juice and white wine, cast iron or aluminum pans are not recommended. These metals will react with the acid, giving the sauce an aluminum taste.

Foodbuzz Blogger Fest 2010: Tips, Tricks, and Pics

2010-11-07T15:12:00.000-08:00

San Francisco! It's been such a long time. The last time I walked these streets I was in chef's whites and hounds tooth pants, lugging my knife bag and tool box to and from the California Culinary Academy. This time, I was lugging my laptop, camera, and business cards, around the 2nd Annual Foodbuzz Blogger Festival. How is it that I always end up roaming these streets with a pack of unabashed food-worshippers? What can I say? This is my tribe and I love 'em.

One of the highlights of the weekend was getting to meet superstar Chef, Mary Sue Milliken, of Border Grill.

She was here with the folks from Alaska Seafood to announce The 1st Ever Wild Alaska Fish Taco Recipe Contest. Anyone can enter, and the winner gets an all expenses paid trip to LA to serve their winning taco from the Border Grill Truck with the Too Hot Tamales (Chef's Milliken and Feniger). You also get $500 bucks, a snazzy camera, and a bunch more stuff. I don't know about you, but my taco wheels are a turnin'.

I learned a new tortilla trick from Chef Mary Sue:

Pro Tip for reheating corn tortillas: dip them in water before giving them a quick one-two-flip in a hot skillet, for moist and pliable taco wrappers that won't break when you bend them.

I also got to meet one of my all time favorite food bloggers: Marc from No Recipes.

His food photos make my tummy growl. When I see his pics, I wonder, "How did he do that?!" He shared some of his photo expertise in a Breakout Session called:

Marc taught us a surprising trick for creating bright, Martha Stewart-like food photographs:

Pro Tip for food photography: Use back lighting to create bright and glowy food images with a feeling of suspense and mystery.

I couldn't spend a weekend in San Francisco without running into someone from my culinary alma mater. Chef John taught computer skills at CCA, and is now blogging full time at Food Wishes , which features video recipes, prepared by Chef John, and requested by his readers-- hence, their "Food Wishes". His site is the web's LEADING video recipe blog! Go Chef John! He explained how he has filmed most of his 500+ online cooking videos:

Pro Tip for video recipe blogging: Skip the hair and makeup session by filiming in a style called "hands-in-pans". No need to show your mug when the camera is strictly pointed at the food.

Aside from the standard elbow rubbing, connection building, and shop talk typical of such events, what made my first Foodbuzz conference stand out was, well, the FOOD. And the beer. And the wine. It was like a 48-hour cocktail party with the most outstanding hors d'oeuvres, and no one was complaining about that. Last night's Gala Dinner was hands down the best plated dinner I've ever had at a 350+ event.
Much as I enjoy food and wine pairing, the bona fide German bier frau in me enjoyed many a glass of barley pop throughout the weekend, all from members of the San Francisco Brewers Guild-- an apparently robust and flourishing organization. One of the most memorable flavors of the weekend for me was this Watermelon Wheat Beer from 21st Amendment, served at Saturday afternoon's Tasting Pavilion.

Even at the end of it's summer season, this refreshing brew managed to feel both light and substantial, quenching my thirst with a juicy hit of watermelon, without being sweet. Sweet beer has it's place, but it's rare that I sample a beer made with fruit that I want to keep around a 6-pack of. This was an exception, and I put in a request that they start distributing to Montana, asap.

There is so much I'll be taking with me back to Montana. Like new and rekindled friendships with:

My Luscious Temple
You Can't Eat What?
Living My Whole Life
A Foodie Stays Fit
The Enchanted Cook
The Nutty Fig
Ash and Lew Plus 2
Nibbles of Tidbits
And too many more to mention!

I'll also be taking home a heap of swag, a mild hangover, and a few extra pounds. It was worth it! Every delicious, organic, aromatic calorie. Foodbuzz, you know how to have fun. Thanks for making this weekend as dreamy as this spectacular city.

Alton Brown's Tres Leches Cake and El Dia de los Muertos

2010-11-03T15:55:00.000-07:00

Yesterday marked the Mexican holiday, El Dia de los Muertos: The Day of the Dead. Here in Missoula, Montana we celebrated with our own version, based on the traditional Mexican ritual of celebrating the souls of our departed. In Mexico, graves are adorned with flowers, candles, and treats for departed loved ones. Sugar skulls and marigolds are common ornaments.

It is a day of remembrance and of summoning spirits, more celebratory than solemn. Death wears a vibrant mask on El Dia de los Muertos: colorful, flowered, and candied. It's a refreshing departure from some of the more despairing views of this inevitable part of life, and I think many Americans are intrigued by the holiday because it gives us a way to bring back the souls of our departed, and to dance with them.

Here in Missoula, that's what happens every November 2nd. The Day of the Dead Parade, like a high-spirited and costumed funeral procession, toddles down Higgins Avenue, to Caras Park. As the sun retreats, candles are lit, fire dancers appear, hand drums start beating, and the dancing begins.

Missoula loves and celebrates our version of this ritual. In the cool shadow of Halloween, artwork, costumes, and dancing, all interpret and pay homage to the dead in some way.

What would Missoula's Day of the Dead Parade be without a couple of dead tubers?

After the parade we headed back to our pal's house for a Latin American treat: Tres Leches Cake, or Three Milks Cake. Tres Leches is just that: a sponge cake soaked in evaporated milk, sweetened condensed milk, and half and half. After sitting overnight and soaking up all that sweet milky goodness, the cake is topped with a whipped cream frosting. Served chilled, this cake is sweet, cool, creamy and beyond moist, like a dense marriage of flan and souffle. If you've never had Tres Leches cake, you're in for a treat. There's nothing else like it.

I think my buddy Logan liked it, even if she did only eat the frosting : )

Click here for Alton Brown's recipe for Tres Leches Cake. I've made it twice and both times it has been wonderful. Two tips though:

1. I think that 1 1/2 cups of heavy cream would make plenty of frosting. 2 cups seems like too much.
2. Be sure you let the cake soak overnight, or 24 hours. It takes a while for the cake to absorb so much moisture.

I try to remember the light spirit of death we felt yesterday, which turned out to be a day that took one of the greatest surfers who ever lived. Andy Irons was far too young and full of promise to be taken from his friends, fans, and family so soon. I dedicate this post to him. Rest in peace, Andy Irons. May you be dancing down that great blue wave in the sky.

Butternut Squash Mac and Cheese with Browned Butter and Sage

2010-10-31T12:36:00.000-07:00

If I weren't so concerned with SEO (search engine optimization), I would have called this post, "Life Under Renovation," or "Before and After." That is the current overriding theme of my existence, and I'm finally getting a glimpse of the energizing, celebratory phase of reaching the "After" point.

In the spirit of "Before and After," I bring you these 2 before and after recipes. The other night, we roasted butternut squash, the same way it was served long ago at my mother's table: Roasted in the oven with brown sugar, butter, and spices. It was tender and sweet and simple and good. But there was a bit leftover, so I renovated it, giving it a metaphorical sand, stain, and varnish job.

This past year has been one of the most transformative of our lives. So many dreams have come true, and all at once. We found a home town and solid ground beneath our feet. We took the wheels off our gypsy wagon and parked it, moving straight into the 30-year-old Ranchito: our ~~money pit~~ dream home. I love it, but sometimes it makes me want to go sit in my car, where nothing is broken or needs fixing, and just breathe.

We went from being long-time renters ("Uh, hey there's squirrels in the wall. Call the landlord.") to do-it-yourselfers ("Uh, hey there's woodpeckers drilling holes in the potting shed. What are we gonna do?"). We're building new friendships and rebuilding old ones, and enjoying all that comes with staying put. We found our first dog-- something we've wanted for such a long time-- whose furry little face has increased the smiles in this household by at least 50%.

We're also cleaning up old messes, winnowing through our stuff, and feeling the need to set good habits for every aspect of our new long-term life: health, community, career, family, marriage.

It's so wonderful, and tiring, and exciting, and stressful all at the same time. A giant paradigm life shift. There is no more running away to some tropical surf locale at the end of the AK heli season. Now we're year-round people. There is a lot of responsibility that comes along with that. If there's something we don't like, we have to face it head on, and change it. It's a lot of work. Instead of going hiking or fishing on our days off, we go to our second job: renovating our new house. As Noah put it, "R & R has taken on a new meaning in my life. Free time isn't about rest and relaxation anymore, it's about repairs and renovations."

Sometimes I have to remind myself-- like when we're digging a 6-foot deep hole around the chimney (for repairs)-- that these are good problems to have. We asked for this. For the last decade or so, and especially the last 5 years, we bounced around the West coast in a Space Pod, which was a tremendous and fun adventure, but had it's own set of challenges. There was no Mother Ship to go home to. A few years ago I began to wish very hard for a place to hang my hat, and now there it hangs! Right next to the work gloves, shovel, pooper scooper, and rake.

I think these life changes are always sprinkled with a hefty dose of yin and yang, be it finding a home, picking up and moving, starting a family, changing careers, or accomplishing goals. The duality of realizing one's dreams is equal parts joy and hard work, but it seems that the duality itself is what makes these things rewarding.

We've recently renovated my home office. Here's the before:

Scuffed up poo-beige walls, with a wallpaper border of (what else?) puppies in baseball hats!!

Here's the after:

After testing (and scrapping) half a dozen different yellow paint samples, from highlighter yellow to grey poupon, I decided to do a faux technique called color washing. I liked the earthy, vintage feel it created, and it didn't require sunglasses to be in the room once it was painted.

Noah invested in a mitre saw and router (since we're becoming construction workers) and we sanded some knotty pine to update the cheesy 1970's trim. We replaced the beat-up old accordion closet doors with new ones.

He and his brother Caleb did most of the wood work. Thanks Caleb! I took advantage of some fall sales to get some new office furniture, and lighting on the cheap. Someday soon, I'm going to put a little leather club chair and ottoman in this corner, so I have a cozy place to sit and read.

We thought this project would take a week. It took almost 2 months. That's pretty much par for the course. Things I guessed would take a couple months, will take a year. Renovations I thought would begin next year, are already shifting to 3 to 5 year goals. But completing my office has put such a spring in my step. To walk in there and know that we did it ourselves, and to feel like, "Yeah, this is my very own creative space,"... is huge.

Something in me that was all tense and unorganized, just unravelled and relaxed. All the scattered frustration of living out of storage units, and moving every 6 months is over. All my important things are here, and by putting the work into obtaining this dream, I can see now that big things are going to happen in my little yellow room. This is the place where I will make my contribution to the world. I have given myself the tools to succeed. WOW. That's cool. [happy dance : ) : ) : ) ]

Along with our house, I'm renovating my career. Food-G readers, this site is about to become something so much bigger and better than this little blog. It will be the same in all the right ways, but much improved. I'm taking the puppies-in-baseball-hats wallpaper down from Food-G, and putting up a new coat of paint. The ball has been rolling all summer, with business plans, and diagrams, and logo designs, and all kinds of ideas about how I'm going to turn this into something so wonderful, and useful, and inspiring...and it's all for YOU. If you have any thoughts, fears, desires, or requests regarding what you want to see on here, please drop me a comment. I appreciate your feedback!

Like everything, my blog renovation is taking 5 times longer than I thought it would, but I'm going to quote Noah, my Bodhisattva, again, who says that, "If something is taking longer than you think it should, it probably means you're doing it right."

I hate that saying, but he's right.

Without being able to tell you too much about my new blog, I give you these "Before and After," recipes. Great cheers were heard around the table when I recently brought this Butternut Mac and Cheese to a hunter's potluck. One of my most long-time friends shared with us the tenderloins from his freshly killed antelope and deer. Lucky us! They were amazing, marinated in ginger, sesame, and lemon, and grilled rare. Both of the recipes below are well-suited accompaniments for wild game. 'Tis hunting season after all.

BEFORE: Roasted Butternut Squash with Butter and Brown Sugar

Slice a medium butternut squash in half lengthwise, and remove the seeds. Pierce the flesh several times with a fork. Place cut side up on a rimmed baking sheet and sprinkle with:

2/3 cup brown sugar, packed
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon nutmeg
1/8 teaspoon clove
a few small pats of butter

Roast in a 350 degree oven until very tender when pierced with a knife, at least 1 hour. Reserve 1 1/2 cups of the squash to make the Mac and Cheese.

AFTER: Winter Squash Mac and Cheese with Browned Butter and Sage (serves 6 to 8)

This isn't diet food, but it's what you bring to the potluck when you want to be the most popular person there. It also makes a satisfying meatless supper, and pairs nicely with Blue Moon Pumpkin Ale. The interplay of sweet and savory flavors is what makes this dish so unique and satisfying.

1 1/2 cups roasted winter squash (butternut is best), mashed
2 pinches cinnamon
1 pinch clove
1 pinch freshly grated nutmeg
1 1/2 teaspoons brown sugar
(OMIT the above 4 ingredients if you've already roasted the squash using the "Before" recipe)

4 tablespoons salted butter
10-12 sage leaves, chopped
1 medium yellow onion, diced
2 tablespoons flour
2 cups milk
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground nutmeg
3 cups grated sharp cheddar cheese, divided

2 tablespoons salted butter, melted
2/3 cup Panko bread crumbs

12 oz. dried pasta shells, elbows, or penne

Grease a 3-quart baking dish, and preheat oven to 350 degrees. If you prepared the "Before" recipe, simply mash 1 1/2 cups of the leftover squash. Otherwise, combine 1 1/2 cups roasted squash with brown sugar and spices.

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil, and cook pasta to al dente, according to package instructions.

In a large sauce pan, melt the butter over medium-high heat. Let it sizzle and foam until it begins to turn golden brown. Add half of the chopped sage, stir and immediately add onions. Saute 5 minutes or until onions are soft.

Add flour to onions and stir to combine. Add squash and stir to combine. Slowly pour in milk a little at a time, stirring to prevent lumps. Add salt, pepper and nutmeg, and bring to a simmer, stirring constantly until sauce has thickened. Add 2 1/2 cups of the cheese and stir until melted and incorporated into sauce. Remove from heat.

When pasta has reached al dente, drain and add to cheese sauce, stirring to combine. It will look like a lot of sauce, but don't worry; Much of the moisture will be absorbed or evaporate during baking. Pour into prepared baking dish.

In a small bowl combine melted butter, Panko crumbs, remaining sage, and remaining cheese. Stir to combine and sprinkle evenly atop mac and cheese.

Place in preheated oven and bake uncovered, 45 to 50 minutes or until bubbly and golden. If topping doesn't look brown enough at this point, broil 1 to 3 minutes or until golden brown and crisp.

Cedar Plank Sockeye Salmon with Citrus Glaze

2010-10-13T08:42:00.000-07:00

Today I'm going to put on my instructor's hat and talk technique. Restaurants charge top dollar for cedar-planked salmon, but this technique is very easy to do at home. It's a great tool to have in your eat-more-fish tool chest, and when you bust this out for guests you'll look like a culianary bad ass. Sweet!

Lots of proteins lend themselves well to cedar-planking: scallops, shrimp, chicken, pork, prime rib, trout; but salmon is by far the most popular passenger for this wooden magic carpet. Cedar cooking planks can be used in both oven and grill. After living in Alaska for four years, and cooking about a hundred cedar planked salmon dinners, Hubs and I can confidently say we both prefer the grill method, hands down. When wood meets open flame, the natural smoke flavor that infuses the fish gives it a subtle umami base note that's kind of the whole point.

I'm a big cheerleader for wild Alaska seafood, and I'm going to raise my megaphone here to give three cheers for wild Alaska sockeye salmon. The reason I cook almost exclusively with Alaskan salmon (yes, even here in Montana) is not only because the pristine waters of Alaska produce some of the purest, healthiest, and best tasting salmon, but because Alaskan salmon is sustainable salmon.

In short, Alaska fisheries use careful monitoring to determine how many fish they can take out of the water without decimating their populations. It's simple biological math, but many fisheries have gotten it wrong, obliterating their own inventory by using the "fish till they're gone" philosophy.

Here's some Bristol Bay Sockeye I caught at the supermarket.

Alaska, on the other hand, has gotten this equation right, ever since it became a state (just over 50 years ago), and wrote the sustainable yield principle into their constitution. Yep, sustainable seafood is law in Alaska and that's why consumers can feel confident that any Alaskan seafood they buy has adhered to these standards-- standards that literally have the rest of the planet's fisheries looking to them as a shining example. Their fisheries management philosophy is meant to provide fish to consumers, and support fishing communities for the LONG HAUL. What a concept! Lucky for us in middle America, we can find wild Alaska salmon more and more easily in the seafood department, the canned and pouched seafood section, and the freezer section of the grocery store. Even for a spoiled-rotten former Alaskan salmon snob like myself, I've been thoroughly impressed with the quality of the fresh, frozen, and canned Alaska seafood available at my local grocer. And if I'm ever in need of recipe inspiration, this is where I go: http://www.alaskaseafood.org/recipes/ .

FYI Disclosure: Alaska Seafood did not pay me to write this or direct you to their site. It's something I just plain believe in with all my heart, and is one of the few food choices, in the quagmire of modern food choices, that feels cut-and-dry GOOD.

Know what else is more and more available in the seafood department? Pre-cut cedar cooking planks. You can also find them at places like Home Depot, Williams-Sonoma, and Costco. Don't use treated cedar left over from your home renovation project. Those chemicals are bad news. Look for untreated planks, about 1/4" thick.

Ok, so you've got your salmon, and you've procured your cedar plank. Now what?

This flavor-infusing magic of flame means you must take measures to prevent the wood from catching fire. First, soak the plank in water for a minimum of 30 minutes before grilling. Longer is better. Secondly, cook the fish over a lower temperature than you may be used to, and allow ample cooking time. We've found that a medium to medium low flame on our propane Weber Q makes for a meltingly tender salmon filet, with a subtle smoked cedar aroma, and no pesky plank fires. Some grillers suggest keeping a spray bottle filled with water near the grill to squirt out flare-ups, but with proper soaking and low heat, fire is rarely an issue. Allow 2 to 3 times longer than you normally would to grill fish, as both the lower temp. and the heat-shield effect of the board will slow down cooking.

Let's review.

TIPS FOR CEDAR PLANKING FISH:

Use untreated cedar cooking planks
Soak planks at least 30 minutes before grilling
Cook over a medium or medium low flame. High flame + cedar plank = FIRE!
Allow ample cooking time
Keep a spray bottle filled with water nearby to extinguish flare-ups

Cedar Plank Sockeye Salmon with Citrus Glaze (serves 4)

Adapted from Wolfgang Puck's recipe for "Orange-Glazed Grilled Fish Fillets"

1 1/2 pounds wild Alaska sockeye filet
4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
sea salt and freshly ground pepper
1/4 cup fresh orange juice
1/4 cup fresh lemon juice
1/4 cup white wine vinegar
1/2 teaspoon tamari or soy sauce
1 tablespoon maple syrup
1 teaspoon packed brown sugar
3 tablespoons orange marmalade
1 teaspoon minced fresh ginger
1 teaspoon minced garlic
pinch white pepper

You will need 1 untreated cedar plank, big enough to hold 4 portions of fish without them touching.

In sink or large roasting pan, soak cedar plank in water at least 30 minutes.

In a small saucepan combine orange juice, lemon juice, white wine vinegar, tamari (or soy), maple syrup, brown sugar, marmalade, ginger, garlic, and white pepper. Bring to a boil, reduce heat and continue cooking at a low boil until mixture has thickened to a syrupy consistency and reduced to approx. 1/2 to 2/3 cup. Remove from heat and set aside.

If necessary, remove pin bones from salmon. Cut fillet into 4 equal portions. You do not need to remove the skin; the fish will lift easily from the skin once it's cooked. Brush salmon portions with 1 tablespoon olive oil, and sprinkle with salt and pepper.

Pre-heat grill (or light the coals) to a medium flame. Remove cedar plank from water and place fish portions onto board, skin side down. Add remaining 3 tablespoons olive oil to citrus glaze and stir to combine. Brush each piece of fish generously with the glaze and place on grill. Close lid and cook fish for 10 to 15 minutes, checking periodically. The salmon is done or very-near done when you see the first little spots of white liquid oozing from the flesh of the fish. Like this:

See the little beads of white protein on the left side of the fillet? That's perfect.
Too much of that white stuff means your fish is probably overcooked. Bummer.

You can always do like Noah and check it with your fork.

To serve, place entire plank on large serving platter, or remove fish from plank and place on serving tray. Serve with grilled vegetables and a buttery Chardonnay.

Bacon Wrapped Figs Stuffed with Goat Brie

2010-09-30T12:50:00.000-07:00

The other night, driving home along the Bitteroot River, beneath a twilight sky, the moon rose. Not just any moon. A harvest moon. An unusually large, gleaming, golden-amber moon. It sat, momentarily, on the top of Mount Sentinel, so full it looked oblong, like an egg that might roll end over end down the sloping, grassy ridge. We passed a farm field, where the equally heavy, oblong orbs of pumpkins shouted their colors from beneath the shade of their dark green leaves.

Stalks of indian corn.

The strangeness of gourds.

The sun long gone at 8:15.

An apple hangs heavy from our backyard tree.

This is such a miraculous time of year on the 45th parallel-- a place I feel destined to inhabit for most of this life. Climate becomes so much a part of who we are. It's good to be back here after so much time spent close to the Arctic, where fall was but a handful of blow-down rainy days.

Oh Autumn, I am seeing you with beginner's eyes... and smelling, and hearing, and touching, and tasting you. If seasons were courses, you'd be my favorite.

You even match my dog.

Bacon Wrapped Figs Stuffed with Goat Brie (makes 8)

If I could take that crisp evening, and re-create a moment with flavor, the way a poet creates feelings with words, this would be it. Consumption of this hors d'oeuvre could benefit from the use of knife and fork, but the maple balsamic glaze is truly best when licked from the fingertips.

1/4 cup balsamic vinegar

1/4 cup maple syrup

8 fresh black mission figs

4 to 8 slices hickory smoked bacon

2 to 3 ounces goat brie (or substitute regular cow's milk brie), divided into 8 equal pieces

toothpicks

Preheat oven to 400 and line a baking sheet with foil. In a small sauce pan combine balsamic and maple syrup and bring to a simmer. Cook until volume is reduced by half.

With a paring knife, make a small pocket in the top of each fig, so that it will hold the cheese when it melts, rather than oozing out. Stuff each pocket with a small wedge of goat brie.

Wrap each fig in a slice of bacon, trimming to cover the fig in a single layer, with just a bit of overlap. Use a toothpick (or 2) to seal the figs in their bacon jackets. Generously brush and drizzle each fig with a coating of the maple balsamic glaze.

Place in center of oven and bake 10 minutes, or until bacon is sufficiently crisped. Devour while warm.

Acknowledgements: Thanks to the Camp Blogaway prop swap and Greg @ Sippity Sup for the beautiful leaf-adorned plate. : ) Also, thanks to Scott, Tracy, and Jayden J. for supplying the Goat Brie-- a delicious stroke of luck!

Creative Dog Treats

2010-08-29T08:44:00.000-07:00

About two weeks ago Noah and I hopped in the car with our fly fishing gear and headed East towards Dillon, MT. This is what we caught:

Meet Pablo! aka Pabs McScruff, the newest member of our family.

There were so many dogs at the shelter in Dillon. Maybe 30. Maybe more. Susie, the huge-hearted keeper of the kennel, loved these animals, and did a great job of recommending dogs for us to "test drive." We walked a yellow lab cross named Zeke. He had a gash across one eye from a dog fight, and was so rambunctious on the leash we didn't go very far. That was to be expected from a young dog who hadn't been walked in a while, but he just had a little too much energy for us. Then there was Jasper. He had a cool red and gold Labrador length coat, with a red terrier beard, and beautiful hazel eyes. We got him on the leash and he was rambunctious too. As Noah tried to settle him down, I tuned out, and began to accept the possibility of returning home without a dog. I just wasn't feeling it.

We were walking down a dirt road edged by wildflowers and scrub grasses, and I squinted towards the 90 degree turn about a quarter mile ahead, wondering if we would make it that far with Jasper. As we got out of earshot of the kennel, Jasper calmed down. He listened when we told him not to pull on the leash. He tuned into us, looking up to see our faces as we walked. When we stopped, he sat down beside us. Noah gave me the leash, and when Jasper took it in his mouth to play tug of war, I told him no, and he stopped. Back at the kennel, he gently took treats from Susie's 2 year old grandson. He sniffed a cat with nothing more than friendly curiosity. It wasn't love at first sight, but as Jasper tuned into us, I tuned into him, as if we were both thinking, "Hey, you're alright. I kinda like you." Sometimes love is like that.

We told Susie that we needed to think on it. We were going fishing and would return later if we were interested. "I'll put him in this holding kennel until the end of the day," she said. "You can always take him for a 10 day trial and if it doesn't work out, you can bring him back, no questions asked."

We only made it a quarter mile from the shelter. We stopped for a sandwich, and by the time we were done, we were in agreement that we both liked Jasper, and would consider a trial run. Back in the car, Noah turned on the radio and said, "Let's see what the radio says we should do."

I kid you not, the song that came on was Roxette's "Listen to your Heart".

Listen to your heart, when he's calling for you.

Listen to your heart, there's nothing else you can do.

I don't know where you're going, and I don't know why.

But listen to your heart before you tell him goodbye.

Extra cheezy, for sure; but also, undeniably apropriate.

"Well then," Noah said, "Let's go get our dog."

As we approached his kennel he got up and wagged his tail when he saw us. We had decided to give him a new name for his new life: Pablo, like the artist.

We filled out some paperwork. "Remember," Susie said, "If it doesn't work out, just bring him back. But please, whatever you do, bring him back to me. He's a good dog and he deserves a good life. This is a no-kill shelter and I want to make sure he finds a forever home."

I burst into tears as we hugged her goodbye. "We're going to take really good care of him," I promised. "We've been waiting for this day a long time."

"C'mon Pablo," Noah said, using his new name for the first time, as he jumped into the backseat like he had done it a hundred times.

On the drive home I proceeded to text photos of him to my entire family and in a few hours we were back at the Ranchito. We let him out in our back yard, now HIS backyard, over an acre, entirely fenced, with room to run, roam, and sniff.

He had been living in his kennel with four other dogs for nearly three months. I don't know how long it had been since he was able to run free, but he flew across the grass, ears flopping, doing high speed turns and crazy eights with his tongue flying and a huge smile on his face.

He would stop at our feet now and again to sniff us, learning the scent of his new family. It was one of the most joyful things I have ever witnessed, and I knew we were never ever going to let him go.

Pablo is the one year old son of a purebred Irish Terrier, and the lab down the road, who was passed around by some people who couldn't keep him, and who had a tumultuous first year of life. Now, he is ours. I look into his sweet face, so full of love and curiosity and intelligence and goodness, and I see an old friend. There is a peace in my heart that wasn't there before and it's all I can do not to smother him with love, treats, and toys. He needs a little discipline too, but he's learning quick and listens well. Noah and I are both so in love, and so loved in return, it's already hard to imagine life before Pablo. We feel like we have been blessed with an extraordinary dog. Bringing Pablo home is one of the best things we've ever done.

Pablo is pretty mellow most of the day. He loves his naps and stretching and does some really cute puppy yawns upon waking. We walk every morning, and most evenings too. Once or twice a day, he goes into puppy frenzy and I am reminded that he is the equivalent of a 6 or 7 year old boy. When I'm working, some long hours go by and I can tell he's just plain bored, so I try to give him things to occupy his brain. I rotate through his collection of toys to keep him interested. I take fetch breaks with the Chuckit. But sometimes I'm not sure what else to do. Here's a trick we learned from our awesome trainer Holly at Go Fetch:

Dogsicles!

Take a Kong toy (appropriate size for your dog) and stuff it with a couple of dog treats. Put it in a container that is similar size to the Kong and add water to nearly cover. Freeze it. When you want to give your dog about 30 minutes of total entertainment, unmold the Kong using hot water and take it out in the yard for your dog to chew and lick, all the way to the treat-filled center.

This treat is especially great on a hot day. One stifling afternoon, I gave this to Pablo in the shade of a pine, while I lazed in the hammock. A magpie started jabbering and squawking in a nearby tree and seemed to be zoning in on Pablo. The bird inched towards Pablo, and finally swooped down on him and his Dogsicle, erupting in a game of chase that dog and Magpie appeared to thoroughly enjoy. This happened again and again. The bird would taunt and tease Pablo, getting closer...

and closer...

until Pablo would jump up and chase!

The bird would land in a tree just outside our fence, and cackle away, as if to say, "Haha! Can't catch me."

It made for an entertaining afternoon for both myself, Pablo, and the Magpie.

For all the other crazy dog people out there (I know I'm not the only one), here's a bonus treat, also from Holly:

Surprise Kong!

I like to do this if we're going to leave the dog home alone for a while. We put him in the laundry room with a bowl of water, some toys, and one of these.

Fill a Kong with kibble, leaving about an inch of space at the top. Fill the hole with a small amount of peanut butter or cream cheese and use a knife to smooth. You can give it to the dog as is, or store it in the freezer to make it harder to get at the kibble.

Choco Banana Frappe

2010-07-28T12:56:00.000-07:00

It’s a fruit smoothie!
It’s coffee!
It’s a chocolate milk shake!
It’s CHOCO BANANA!

Do you ever wonder what you could do with all that leftover coffee, instead of pouring it down the drain? Here's an idea, and if it's Joo-Lie hot where you are, trust me, this is what you want, right now.

We fell in love with this frosty caffeinated frappe on our honeymoon in Sayulita, Mexico. We drank many a Choco Banana at a wonderful little community restaurant in the town square by the same name. It's the kind of restaurant that feels like home, where you make new friends, hear about the local goings-on, and nosh on delicious Mexican-style breakfasts like Chilaquiles con Huevos. The original Choco Banana is a frozen chocolate-dipped banana on a stick, but these guys took the thing, put it in a blender with coffee and served it as a caffeinated, chocolate banana smoothie. I guarantee that there is no better pre-surf breakfast than this.

Look at those lefts rolling in at this secret surf spot. Thank you Choco Banana!

I got a raging craving for one of these creamy, banana frappe’s this week, after a summer surf trip to La Push, Washington. It was cool near that Northerly coast, even on a rare sunny day in the middle of July. The water was sooo cold, my hands got stiff and I endured many an ice-cream headache, too stubborn to wear my wetsuit hood and gloves. None the less, it was a chilly summer treat, and it made coming home to hot and arid, late-July Montana feel that much hotter.

Back at the Ranchito, my to-do list doesn’t care that it’s 85 degrees in the house by 3 pm, so I go barefoot, turn on the swamp cooler, and sweat in front of the computer while the afternoon sun beats into my office window. As the temperature rises, my eyelids get heavy, and I start thinking about heading out to the pine-shaded hammock. But I can’t! MUST…KEEP…GOING...

At times like these, there’s no better cure than a frosty caffeinated treat like Choco Banana.

Choco Banana Frappe
(makes 2 - 16 oz. shakes)

I'm not sure exactly how Choco Banana makes theirs but this seems pretty darn close to what I remember from our Sayulita honeymoon. The secret lies in peeling and freezing the bananas first, so the frozen chunks can go right into the blender, making the finished product both ice cold and creamy-thick. A little half and half helps too, but it's still quite good with just milk (in case you're watching your waist line). Hubs on the other hand, with his whippet-like metabolism, insists that next time we try it with vanilla ice cream.

2 large bananas, peeled, chopped, and frozen
1/4 cup chocolate syrup, or more to taste
1 cup milk
1/3 cup half and half (optional, but highly recommended)
1 – 1 ½ cups chilled (leftover) coffee

Put everything in the blender and buzz until completely smooth and frothy.

Wild Berry Basil Panna Cotta

2010-07-16T14:28:00.000-07:00

Have I ever told you how much I love this blog? Or how much fun I have dreaming up ways to make your mouth water, scheming to make your life more delicious? Food-G has been a wonderful laboratory, and sharing and connecting with you here has been the greatest reward. I love it, I do.

I also work hard at it, tweeting and facebooking, and juggling camera, skillet, and keyboard to bring these treats to you. This little blog has been the fertilizer for my fledgling food writing career, and occasionally it has caught the eye of the right person(s). That's how I piece together work that pays, and that's how I grow my audience. Work like this blog dovetails with and supports other projects, like my former food column in the Juneau Empire.

Once in a while, the stars align, and an opportunity comes along that has the potential to make a difference in a person's life and work.

Food-G fans and followers, I have a favor to ask. . .

I recently came across this super cool site called Food 52. It's written by New York Times' food writers, Amanda Hesser and Merrill Stubbs. Their mission: to collect, test, and highlight the most excellent recipes written by home cooks. Every week they ask their online community to submit recipes using a specific ingredient. Last week the chosen ingredient was BASIL. They test the recipes, and pick 2 finalists, which the public then votes on. Of the two finalists, the winner gets published in their upcoming Food 52 cookbook, published by Harper Studio.

My recipe for Wild Berry Basil Panna Cotta was born in Juneau, Alaska, after a day of sea kayaking and berry picking on some of the little islands surrounding Juneau. I originally published it in my "Local Flavor" column in the Juneau Empire, along with a recipe for Wild Berry Muscat Granita. I thought the panna cotta might be unusual enough to pique their interest at Food 52. So I submitted it and went tra la la on my merry way, forgetting all about it.

Yesterday, on the drive home from Burning Beast, I started receiving a string of emails saying stuff like, "Nice recipe! Congrats."

Huh? . . . Oh yeah, the Food 52 thing!

My recipe was chosen as a finalist in their Basil Contest. On their site, I got to see a slide show of Amanda Hesser and Merrill Stubbs making my panna cotta. Cool! Then, they put up a studio-quality video of them making my recipe, telling my berry picking story, unmolding my dessert, and finally, the best part- tasting the finished product. I'm all puffed up and doing my happy dance all over the house. I may need to take it to the next level and get out the ol' tap shoes...but first I'll wait to see if I win.

The public has about a week to vote for my recipe or the other one, until midnight (ET) on July 21. The competition is a simple and lovely recipe for Basil Poached Peaches, so winning will be tough.

Food-G fans and followers, will you please vote for me?

Not just because you enjoy my blog, but because this panna cotta is the most beautiful, creamy, silky, cool and refreshing summer dessert you can imagine. I'm so flattered and happy, I'm melting like gelato, but this dessert will not. You can make it ahead of time and eat it right out of the cup-- no unmolding required. And any kind of berries will do. Use what you got.

Voting requires that people sign in to Food 52, but it's a quick process and you never have to revisit the site again, although you'll probably want to. Food 52 is a great resource for inspired and TESTED recipes, and I never leave that site without printing off a couple of must-try's. It's pretty much my new favorite thing.

Thanks for reading Food-G, and to those of you who went the extra mile to cast a vote for little old me, thanks for giving back. I'll leave it at that-- it's getting hard to type with my fingers crossed.

Morel Mushroom Crepes

2010-07-08T10:58:00.000-07:00

Oooh doggy, if only every throw-together meal could turn out this good...but then, this grand success wouldn't have been nearly as satisfying. This savory, egg and mushroom stuffed crepe was the result of a perfect storm of components: a hefty paper sack of Morels bought from a local picker at the Saturday Farmers' Market, a solid Q & E crepe recipe I recently discovered on Closet Cooking, fresh local eggs, and a fat wedge of Ossau-Iraty --Hubs' fave fromage-- that was surprisingly for sale at Costco.

We had our first family visit at our new home last week: Aunt Pam and Uncle Win, the sailors you might remember from our Carribbean Adventures. Before they retired and became full-time sailors, Win and Pam ran the family cattle ranch in Wyoming. Anyone who has romantic ideas about ranch life, has probably never picked cow pie from the waffle-soles of their steel-toed boots.

As Hubs and I have been putting some serious love (read: sweat) into our own 1.7 acre "Ranchito", I've been thinking about the "big" ranch, and the kind of butt-busting, sweaty, grimy work involved in a regular day tending to so much land. Win and Pam spent a lot of time bucking hay, branding calves, mending fence, digging ditches, herding livestock, and fixing tractors. There is a lot of what we call, "Movin' dirt," involved in ranching. These guys have been kicked by enough cows to tell you all about the realities of ranch life, and what a tough and good life it can be.

Now, here Hubs and I are, three months into ownership of our very first home, and settling in to all that comes with that. We live in a sub-rural neighborhood that actually used to be a ranch (until it was sold and divided the 1970's). We've been trying lately to get our vegetable garden ready for plants, but with so many deer around, we've been warned over and over by the neighbors that we shouldn't bother planting without a 6 foot tall fence around the vegetable plot. So Hubs and I got to work.

We tore down and rebuilt a retaining wall, roto-tilled the dirt, shoveled two truck-fulls of gravel and sand, removed and disposed of 2200 pounds of concrete, and amended the soil with a ton and a half of Eko Compost-- a supreme and rich blend of black goodness.

We worked from sun up to sun down on every sunny day we could. And we moved a lot of dirt, one shovel-full at a time. I don't know if I've got the grit to be a real rancher, but Ranchito life suits me well. I'm a girl who doesn't mind a little dirt under her nails, sweat on her neck, and twigs in her hair. Few things in life are so satisfying as a hard day's work put towards growing your own food.

I do a lot of good thinking when I'm movin' dirt, and an idea crossed my mind out there, amidst the promises of hot sun and good soil, that this vegetable garden is something bigger than it's 400 square feet. In the swirl of a planet that is crying out in so many ways, both ecolologically and economically, I think our garden, and the gardens of our friends, neighbors, and peers, might be a small but substantial piece of a redefined American Dream. This is so welcome, at least to me. To unplug for a piece of each day, to move dirt, to witness the miracle of a sprout, to snap out of the technology-trance that has become such a regular part of my every day, brings me back to what is real. What I see in the garden, is the original version of the "world wide web". To bring that here, to the internet, and use this new-era version of the Web to share an idea, ....that's pretty cool. That is something to feel hopeful about, like a little green sprout that's just burst from the soil

So Win and Pam show up on the doorstep of the Ranchito and we're like, "Welcome! Here's a shovel."

We moved dirt.

Win and Hubs dug a bunch of post holes for the garden fence, and Pam and I got all the flower beds planted. I felt like a terrible hostess putting our guests to work, but they seemed happy to put their stamp on the Ranchito, and I tried to spoil them as best I could with good things to eat.

One sunny morning, after we all had slept in, I was digging around in the fridge for some breakfast fixin's. That's how this wild mushroom crepe happened. When people sit with full plate and fork, and all you hear from them are grunts of satisfaction, and mmmm's, and "so good", you know it's worth sharing. This is a Ginz and Hubs production, which is often how we manage to put things on the table that make you want to shut up and eat. We're still not done with the fence, but I'm sure we'll be out there getting dirty any minute now. There's so much to do. I'm coming to terms with the idea that we may not get the fence done in time to plant this year, but we have made great strides in preparing the Earth, and building some protection around it. Hubs and I just celebrated our 5th wedding anniversary, and it seems a fitting metaphor to spend time together this way, happily working hard and tending to our garden, filled with the promises of hot sun and good soil.

Morel Mushroom Breakfast Crepes
serves 4

If you'd like a little go-along for these delicious savory crepes, I reccommend a simple salad: arugula, olive oil, lemon juice, sea salt,and freshly cracked pepper.

Crepes- This quick and easy recipe is fool proof and fast. Many thanks to Closet Cooking for this keeper.
8 eggs, whisked
2 cups sliced fresh morels
1 tablespoon butter
1 medium shallot, minced
1-2 tablespoons dry sherry
1 tablespoon freshly minced rosemary
3 ounces Canadian Bacon, diced
1 cup freshly grated Ossau-Iraty cheese, or Gruyere
2 green onions, chopped
salt and pepper (white or black), to taste

Prepare crepe batter and set aside. Whisk eggs and set aside. Clean and slice mushrooms into 1/4 inch rings. In a large skillet melt the butter over medium-high heat. Add Shallot and cook, stirring until soft and fragrant. Add mushrooms, sprinkle with salt and pepper (I like to use white pepper here). Cook stirring 1 to 2 minutes or just until soft and moist. Morels seem to lose flavor if cooked too long, so increase the heat to make this a quick saute. Add a splash of dry sherry to the pan, and cook until almost all the liquid has evaporated. Stir in half the minced rosemary. Remove from pan and set aside.

If you have a helper (thanks Hubs!), you can get them to make the crepes while you finish the mushroom scramble. Otherwise, get the crepes made, and hold them in a warm oven while you prepare the eggs.

Use the mushroom pan to saute the Canadian bacon over medium-high heat, 1 to 2 minutes or until warm throughout. Add eggs to the pan, sprinkle with salt, pepper, and remaining rosemary, and scramble. When the eggs are mostly cooked, but still moist, add the mushroom saute to the pan and stir to combine. Use this to fill the crepes. Roll the crepe up, sprinkle with a hefty pinch of the grated cheese, and a smattering of chopped green onions for color.

Grandpa Bill's Radish Sandwiches

2010-06-15T18:17:00.000-07:00

I love butter. And I'm not afraid to admit it. Always have, always will.

In one of my earliest childhood memories, I'm on the kitchen counter of our old house on Ardussi street, and my mother suddenly appears and I freeze. My little toddler hands are glistening with melted fat, and probably my face too. A tiny handful of butter is melting on my tongue. I had used one of our barstools to climb up into the nook where our toaster sat, between the refrigerator, and a floor to ceiling cabinet. I knew exactly what I wanted, that little white tub, filled with what was probably margarine and littered with brown toast crumbs. It was the seventies and butter was the devil, but it didn't matter. The foundation was laid.

Fast-forward about 31 years. It's early May, 2010. I'm at the Good Food Store in Missoula, and a beautiful, paper-wrapped half pound of Italian "Butter of Parma" beckons me from the dairy case. My cart is already filled with the makings of a simple spring pasta: semolina fettuccine, fresh fava beans, asparagus, meyer lemon, parmesan reggiano, fresh basil and parsley. This was the kind of dish that celebrates a very brief moment in time, the first gifts of spring, their green flavors coming together in a harmony only Mother Nature is capable of creating. They must be treated simply, and very well, with only the finest accoutrements. This butter was my missing link.

I knew I shouldn't, scolded this time by my own inner voice, but I picked it up. The paper was smooth and cool against the block of hardened sweet cream. It was called DELITIA, Butter of Parma. A little sticker shouted from the package: "from the production of Parmigiano Reggiano": the one, the only true Parmesan cheese. It cost more than six dollars. I hesitated, then held the package to my nose, and a buttery perfume filled my head, synapses firing with recollections of very good bread from places like Tartine bakery, or the still warm breakfast rolls we ate during the months I lived in Berlin. I salivated, and placed it in my cart, unapologetic. This little package was a delicate treat, and I was going to savor it slowly, gratefully, along with the treasures of springtime.

Our pasta that night was adorned in verdant green, the vegetable flavors brightened with the tart sweetness of meyer lemon. The fine and toothsome handmade fettucine noodles were sheathed in a light cloak of savory Parma Butter, which married happily with a sprinkling of it's sister cheese. I felt like the bubbling young Amy March in the movie version of Little Women, when at the Christmas table she exclaims, "Butter! Oh isn't butter divinity. Oh god thank you for this [meal]."

I only used two small knobs of butter that night, so I had another 7 or so ounces to contend with-- Nay! To celebrate with. I used a pat in this amazing and healthy Fresh Asparagus Soup, spiked with a touch of that delicious Parmigiano. I browned a bit for the buttermilk hollandaise we serve with our artichokes. I used it to coat the omelet pan a time or two. And then, spurred into family remembrances after my last Heirloom Rhubarb Coffee Cake post, I finally tried something that I have heard my mother talk about for years. Her father's radish sandwiches.

He made them in spring and summer, with crisp red radishes, fresh white bread, sweet cream butter, and a pinch of salt. I wonder if he knew that the French eat their radishes this way, with salt and butter? Whenever something prompts my mom to tell the story of her dad's radish sandwiches, her face lights up, and her eyes twinkle, because they were so good, and there was something magical that happened between the crisp white fire of the radishes and the sweet creaminess of the butter. But also because she loved him so much, and whenever she talks about him, I can see that they were very good friends. Those radish sandwiches are a very sensory memory for her. To glimpse this edible artefact of her childhood, helps me to know her.

Grandpa Bill died before I really got to know him, but tasting this, seemed to help me know something more about him. Having finally tasted his radish sandwiches for myself, I can say it's true that they are more than the sum of their parts.That's the magic of family food. We feel kinship through flavor, texture, and style. We summon spirits with passed down wooden spoons. We raise the souls of our departed in the steam of our stock pots. Family food and recipes, like a simple radish sandwich, are far more than the sum of their parts.

Grandpa Bill's Radish Sandwiches

Simple eats like this take excellent ingredients, and the right balance of ingredients. Anyone can make this, but you may need to tinker to reach radish sandwich perfection.

Best fresh white bread you can find, sliced 1/4" thick
Beautiful fresh radishes, any kind, sliced 1/3" thick
Best quality sweet cream butter, brought to room temp for easier spreading
Kosher salt

Butter both slices of bread, adorn one of them with thick radish slices. Sprinkle lightly with kosher salt. Top with remaining slice of bread, and eat slowly on a warm, spring afternoon.

Sour Cream Rhubarb Coffee Cake: An Heirloom Recipe

2010-06-07T10:30:00.000-07:00

About 5 years ago I hijacked my mother's recipe boxes, and combed through them in an effort to compile the recipes of my childhood. There were scalloped potatoes with ham, always prepared in mom's yellow bowl. And Grandma Nan's marinated leg of lamb, a fixture on Easter Sunday, with little Irish potatoes, peeled and roasted to a mahogany brown in the rich pan drippings. Something in me knew that it was critical to possess this knowledge, to be able to recreate the flavors and cooking smells of these recipes, long after their authors are gone.

One thing led to another and soon aunts, uncles, and cousins were filling my inbox with recipes that begged to be arranged in a family cookbook. We all knew the taste of Grossmamma's Lebkuchen cookies, or Grandma Louise's Springerli. And what about Grandpa Bill's barbecued chicken, prepared on his cast iron kettle grill at the cabin in West Branch? These are the Midwestern, no-nonsense flavors of our family tree. A salamagundi of our German and Irish heritage, heavily influenced by the hearty home cooking of our beloved Great Lake State.

It became a yearlong project, and finishing it has proved to me over and over that sometimes our greatest contributions involve no income or fame. I typed up over a hundred recipes, including any family history or anecdotes available. I received wonderful stories about hunting camp, and the hotel where my mom, aunt, and uncle grew up while their dad was running it. I was given recipes I had never tasted, but that were a part of our parent's childhoods. I bought binders, tabs, and sheet protectors, and set up an assembly line on our dining room table. They were finished just in time for Christmas.

My relatives tell me that their copies of the Family Cookbook are well-used, as is mine. It was the first place I looked when I discovered the stalks of ruby red rhubarb growing in the yard of our new home. If anyone would know how to resourcefully use it up, and in a way that could be shared with friends and neighbors, it would be my Grandmothers and/or Great Grandmothers. They didn't like to let things go to waste, not even a patch of rhubarb. I'm pretty sure I recognized Grandma Louise's scrawl on the recipe card, but she didn't directly take credit. Maybe it was one of those recipes shared by a friend, after they enjoyed a piece of cake together with a cup of black coffee. I'll have to call my mom, and ask her if she remembers her mom baking this delicious cake. If there is a story there, I can't wait to collect it for my own recipe box.

Sour Cream Rhubarb Coffee Cake

This cake has a surprisingly thick batter, almost like cookie dough. It yields a moist, dense cake, that perhaps accounts for the very high water content of rhubarb.

1/3 cup sugar

1/2 cup chopped nuts-- chef's choice (I used walnuts)

1 Tablespoon butter

1 teaspoon cinnamon

1/2 cup shortening or butter

1 1/2 cups brown sugar

1 egg, beaten

2 cups flour

1 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup sour cream
1 1/2 cups fresh rhubarb, cut into 1-inch lengths

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease and flour a 9 x 13 inch baking pan.

In a small bowl combine first 4 ingredients for topping. Set aside.

In a large bowl, cream the shortening or butter with brown sugar and egg. In a separate bowl combine flour, baking soda, and salt. Add to creamed mixture, alternating with sour cream. Mix thoroughly. Add rhubarb and stir to combine. Pour into prepared pan. Sprinkle with topping and bake 40 to 50 minutes or until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean.

Adventures in Baby Blue Buttercream

2010-05-27T13:28:00.000-07:00

When I was a little girl, someone told me something that changed my life. I wish I had a story for you about who said it, when, and where, but the truth is, I don’t remember. The important thing to know is that I never forgot the message and this is what it is:

Life is about the experiences.

This has become one of my guiding principles, and is deeply embedded in my decision making process. So when the opportunity comes along to, say, go camping with 60 other food bloggers, ride in a Porsche 911 with the top down through the San Bernardino mountains, or go to an Aerial Tissu class with an old (young) friend, I say YES.

I did all 3 of those things, in one fabulous LAX weekend. And it. Was. AWESOME! I got picked up at the airport by Pamela from My Man’s Belly—a delicious, smart, funny, and sassy blog that chronicles her kitchen adventures and relationship advice. Pamela knows what's up when it comes to the web, and she's just as funny in person as she is on her blog. Together we zipped through the mountains to Camp Blogaway--a food bloggers bootcamp. We were greeted by our hostess and fearless leader, Patti Londre, of Worth the Whisk.

Patti is one of those amazing multi-talented people-- you know, the super capable, accomplished, organized, interesting, AND hilarious type. Wow. With all her connections and know-how she brought together a great group of food bloggers, teachers, and sponsors, the latter of which kept our bellies full with their generous donations of food (thank you Lindsey Olives, National Onion Association, Zespri Kiwifruit, and Mad Housewife Wines, among others). One of the most valuable parts of camp was the sponsors' generous insight into how bloggers and advertisers can navigate this brave new world, ethically and harmoniously. If that's not a can of worms, I don't know what is.

Wilton--the mecca of cake decorating supplies--brought their queen bee, Nancy Siler, to lead us in a cake decorating workshop. It was arts n' crafts Camp Blogaway-style. Oh what fun! There were frosting and pastry bags galore, complete with brownies, cupcakes, and cookies on which to practice our new tricks. I dove straight for the baby blue buttercream and stuck with it. My theme: Senior Prom circa 1978.

I was inspired by memories of my older brother in a powder blue tuxedo and ruffled shirt (sorry Mike). The creations were pure eye candy, like this cupcake by Greg of Sippity Sup:

We spent the whole, glorious weekend up there in Big Bear, with dazzling sunshine dappling the forested hiking trails. In addition to all the fun activities, great food, and laughter, we spent a lot of serious time with our thinking caps on. Art Ramirez spent the whole of Saturday helping to make us better photographers. The first thing he told us was to take our cameras off "Auto" mode--eeeek!

"Auto mode," he explained, "Is for babies, birthdays, and Bigfoot."

It was a fantastic workshop. The best I've ever taken. Thanks to Art's generous, humor-spiked guidance a room full of mostly non-pro photographers learned how to better use our cameras. You can learn some of Art's digi-cam rules of thumb here. Hopefully you'll get to enjoy the fruits of his labor through my photos-- if I can ever figure out this new lens, light box, and the odd lighting issue in my new blue kitchen.

It was a huge treat for me just to be there, thanks to Patti's generous donation to the IACP silent auction, where I bid on, and won passage to Camp Blogaway. I met some brilliant food bloggers, and made some wonderful new friends. I can't wait to go back next year.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot to tell you. As My Man's Belly and I "Porsched" our way back down to LA, making the requisite In-n-Out Burger pit stop (animal-style, of course), I met up with a dear old friend, who brought me along to her Aerial Tissu class. Kim has been practicing for close to a year now, and can do amazing things.

I learned quickly that it's much harder than it looks, but still was able to climb the silk and learn some fun tricks. After that, and some Chicken n' Waffles at Roscoe's, my trip to LA was complete. I'll miss the smell of those California Pines, the wind through my hair in Pammy B's rag top, and the view of the neighbor's yards from 12 feet up the aerial silk. But there are always more adventures to be had. All have to do, is say YES.

Shrimp and Avocado Rangoons with Grapefruit Sweet and Sour Dipping Sauce

2010-05-12T09:42:00.000-07:00

CALLING ALL AVOCADO LOVERS!! Hold onto your socks because they're about to get knocked off.

A couple weeks ago, I heard about this recipe contest: The Adaptable Avocado Challenge put on by Avocados From Mexico . The challenge: Come up with an avocado recipe that is new and different. No cilantro. No guacamole. No Mexican food (except avocados from Mexico, of course).

One thought blazed through my head: ACCEPT THIS CHALLENGE.

For both Hubs and I , avocados are our "Desert Island" food. I would estimate we eat, oh, about a barn-full every year. So we worked on this recipe together. Hubs has a bright and daring palate. He's the dressing and marinade man in the house. My flavors are more feminine. I like to take quality ingredients, and amplify their inherent flavor. When our forces combine in the kitchen, it's usually a winning combination.

I elevated the avocado flavor in these rangoons with a little soy, a kiss of fresh ginger, and the right amount of salt and white pepper. Bites of briny shrimp add a toothsome texture to the rich, creamy filling. Hubs jazzed up our first attempt with the addition of freshly squeezed grapefruit juice in this easy and delicious sweet and sour sauce. He also suggested a bit of wasabi in the filling. I fretted over the addition of such a strong flavor. This recipe needed to be an homage to our beloved avocado. Would it overpower? But I've learned to trust his ideas when it comes to creating flavor profiles, so I gave it a shot. WOW. You'd never know it's there, but the subtle undertone of horseradish makes magic in your mouth. Put that filling into a bubbly-crisp wonton skin, and add the zing of a sweet-sour-bitter-salty dipping sauce. Yep. It's there. After 3 re-tests to tweak the flavor balance, this is a blue-ribbon recipe. I hope the judges agree...

So, without further adieu, I present to you a Ginz and Hubs Production (wish us luck!):

Shrimp and Avocado Rangoons with Grapefruit Sweet and Sour Dipping Sauce
(a full batch makes 35-40 rangoons)

2 medium, fully ripened Hass Avocados from Mexico (about 1 cup mashed)
1/2 lb. shrimp, peeled and deveined, cut into 1/4-inch dice
1 1/2 teaspoons minced fresh ginger root
1/2 teaspoon toasted sesame oil
1 teaspoon soy sauce
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
1/8 teaspoon white pepper
1 teaspoon wasabi paste
1 - 12 ounce package wonton wrappers
1 egg white
6 cups oil for frying (canola, peanut, or vegetable)
Grapefruit Sweet and Sour Dipping Sauce (recipe below)

You will need a pastry brush and a candy/deep-fry thermometer.

In a small bowl, combine diced shrimp with ginger, sesame oil, soy sauce, kosher salt, white pepper, and wasabi paste. Stir to combine and set aside.

Dice the avocados, and in another small bowl mash with a fork or potato masher. A little lumpy is good. Add to shrimp mixture and stir to combine.

Prepare a clean workspace on which to build rangoons. Place eggwhite in a small bowl and have a pastry brush handy. Place wonton skins under a damp towel so they remain pliable. Working in batches of 4, brush wonton skins with a thin sheen of egg white using pastry brush.

Place 1 1/2 teaspoons filling in the center of each wonton.

Fold crosswise into a triangle and gently press the edges to seal. Bring the two outermost corners together and pinch to seal. If necessary, use a dab of eggwhite as "glue".

On stovetop, pour oil into a heavy 5-quart pot, and clip candy thermometer to edge of pot. Tip: Make sure everything is bone-dry; water makes hot oil splatter and pop.The base of the thermometer should be submerged but not touching the bottom of the pot. Watch the temperature closely. When it reaches about 250 degrees Fahrenheit, reduce the heat to medium. Bring oil to 325 degrees. Working in batches, add about 8 wontons to the oil. Fry for 3 minutes, at 325, flipping halfway through.

Remove with a slotted spoon and let drain on paper bag or paper towels.

Wontons can be held in a warm oven until all are ready to serve. Serve hot, with Grapefruit Sweet and Sour Dipping Sauce.

Grapefruit Sweet and Sour Dipping Sauce
(makes about 2 cups)

1/4 cup freshly squeezed pink grapefruit juice
1/2 cup white sugar
1/3 cup rice vinegar (unseasoned)
1/2 cup water
1/4 cup soy sauce
1 tablespoon tomato paste
1/8 teaspoon red chili flakes
3 - 1/4 inch-thick slices fresh ginger root (quarter-sized coins)
1 tablespoon + 2 teaspoons cornstarch

Combine all ingredients in a medium saucepan. Whisk to combine. Bring to a boil, whisking constantly, until thickened. Remove from heat and set aside. Remove ginger coins before serving.

Dark Chocolate-Dipped Coconut Macaroons: Some Thoughts on the JOY of Cooking

2010-05-10T08:24:00.000-07:00

Ahhh... the smell of toasted coconut filling your house on a late Sunday morning. The Splendid Table podcast is on in the background, and slippers are on your feet. The clouds are telling you that the kitchen is the place to be, and the promise of something sweet fills the air.

There's been a lot of discussion going on lately in the culinary world, thanks to this on-stage moment with Michael Ruhlman and Karen Page (here's the video clip), about this idea that we have no time to cook. Is it true? Or has the convenience industry convinced us that it's true for their benefit? Honestly, I don't know. It's probably both. But what I do know is that the ability to cook-- to bake a batch of cookies, to shake a simple salad dressing, to fry an egg-- is such a gift. I can't think of a more influential factor on the "Quality-O-Life Meter" than food.

I noticed that while I was making these macaroons, following a very simple (and very good) recipe on the back of the Baker's Angel Flake Coconut bag, a thought ran through my head like the occasional passing car on a neighborhood street: Am I doing this right? Am I doing this right? Am I doing this right?

It's true, after 10 years of professional cooking experience in some very classy places, after a culinary degree, after a whole lotta years cooking at home, I still often wonder, Am I doing this right?

And if someone like me, who's life revolves around food, is wondering that....what must the rest of America be thinking? I'm talking about the millions of people who think they can't cook, because of time or ability.

I often hear people say things like, "I'm a terrible cook. I can't boil water. I burn toast." Stuff like that. The first meal I served my family (circa age 9) was a macaroni salad I had scribbled down from "The Cajun Chef" (remember that guy?!) on PBS. It was AWFUL!! My family ate it with gusto, in one of the most generous gestures of love and support I've ever received. I was devastated with my failure.

But I kept at it. I learned a few tricks. The more I practiced, the less I failed. But still, all these years later, I DO sometimes fail. The pressure I felt coming out of culinary school, to always create something earth-shattering, innovative, and gourmet, was tremendous. It took a long time to get over that, and to accept the fact that although I occasionally like to put on a grand culinary performance, what excites me most about food is good home cooking, prepared with love. Ultimately, the lesson I learned is that if I have the POTENTIAL to create great food, I must first be willing to take chances, to allow myself to FAIL. The pressure we put on ourselves to put a masterpiece on the table is kind of a wasted opportunity. It takes the JOY out of cooking.

If I could tell my friends who claim they can't cook, one thing, it would be this: lighten up.

Saying "I can't cook," after a few failed attempts, is like sitting in front of a piano for the first time, and throwing up your hands because you can't play Bach. Practice doesn't necessarily make perfect. We're humans. We make mistakes. We over-salt the sauce, and forget about the croutons in the oven, and leave the fish on the grill a little too long. But if we come to ourselves with a little compassion, allowing the occasional car of insecurity (Am I doing this right??) to roll down the street with nothing more than a compassionate glance...cooking can be one of the most wonderful, and lasting gifts in a person's lifetime. A teacher. A lover. A comfort. A healer. A giver.

There I go again, getting all philosophical on you, and I'm probably preaching to the choir. I just wish every cook could know the joy I feel in the kitchen, even in spite of the occasional, inevitable bit of stress.

So, those Macaroons...turns out I WAS doing it right. They were delicious. Crisp-chewy and toasty-brown on the outside, moist and aromatic coconut goodness inside.

As I mentioned, the recipe is taken directly from the back of the Baker's Angel Flake Coconut Bag. I've made this a few times and can see no room for improvement. Hey, if it ain't broke...

These are the chewy-dense kind of macaroons. I make them about 3X bigger than the recipe recommends, bake for 30 minutes rather than the recommended 20, and then melt dark chocolate chips in the microwave and dip 'em. I also made some littles, flattened them into rounds, and made a sandwich-style macaroon. All shapes and sizes are welcome.

Portland Food Carts: An Eat-Along Adventure

2010-05-04T16:20:00.000-07:00

If you are human and eat food, you've heard about the food cart scene in Portland. In one of those fateful cosmic events that leads to huge success, the collection of Portland food carts had grown quite praise-worthy, just as the the economy took a blazing nosedive. Suddenly, the $6 street meal went HUGE. The lure of self-employment and low-overhead inspired investment bankers and the like to drop the briefcase and pick up a spatula. While businesses across the board were gasping for breath after the economic sucker-punch, the mobile food units of Portland were growing fast (about 30% in 2009).

It's a hopeful story about the unexpected gifts born of adversity, but that's not why you should go. You should go, because street food is GOOD. Other cities, like NY, LA, SF, NOLA, and MSP, have embraced the food cart concept with open arms, so you don't have to travel to P-town for a good taco or falafel. That said, Portland's scene is especially awesome, and has inspired many a food cart in other locales.

I may have mentioned something in my last post about how much I love Portland (still recovering from P.O.S.) ... So, as one more blog-post homage to my new favorite city, I want to give you a PDX food cart breakdown.

First, one of the best resources if you're lucky enough to hit the scene is the Food Carts Portland website. This will help you figure out what there is to eat in your 'hood.

I went on a walking tour of Portland's downtown street carts as part of the IACP Conference. We literally ate ourselves into a stupor, and I feared I may have to purchase one of these to get through the rest of the conference. This merely scratches the surface but it will give you a window into what the fuss is about:

Get a bunch of culinarians together and what's the first thing we want?

Yep, PORK. We kicked off the tasting with the Porchetta Sandwich from The People's Pig. Uber juicy. Napkins required. Porchetta, I've noticed, is kinda hot these days in the food world. It's a savory Italian pork roast, including meat, fat, and skin of the pig, seasoned with herbs and slow-cooked until melty-goodness stage is reached.

With what could we possibly follow that?

Yep, that's a 10 inch wiener.

(tee hee)

Bro Dogs serves up crazy good hot dogs and sausages in a special bun they call a "Panagle"-- part panini, part bagel. It's fluffy and sturdy enough to hold a heck of a lot of toppings, but honestly, just a plain bro dog with mustard is totally righteous on it's own.

Right next to Bro Dogs is the perfect morning-after spot: The Brunch Box on SW 5th and Stark. This place serves up burgers and sandwiches that will cure (or at least sedate) the nastiest of hangovers. We tried the "Youcanhascheeseburger": A burger patty with pickles and the works, served between two grilled cheese sandwiches made with Texas toast. The "Redonkadonk Burger" is all that PLUS egg, ham, Spam, bacon, and more American cheese, and no I'm not kidding.

Our next stop was Potato Champion:

Here's where it gets really crazy:

Poutine. It's a French-Canadian thing. French fries, seasoned gravy, and cheese curds. You know you want some.

This next stop (yes, we're still eating) is one of the innovations that makes the new food cart scene so interesting.

KOI: Korean Oregon Infusion BBQ

What exactly is that, you ask? Well here's what it looks like:

That's a taco, stuffed with Korean-style Bulgogi Beef, topped with sesame cabbage, bean sprouts, cilantro, and a side of Kim Chi. There's a definite addiction factor. I wish I had been hungrier, but as you can see we had already eaten an obscene amount of food, and my taste receptors were starting to blur from over-indulgence.

But wait, there's more:

mwahahahahahahaaa!

Ziba's Bosnian Pitas.

That's Ziba. She rolls the pita by hand, into a strudel-thin dough, and then fills them with different combinations of meat, cheese, and vegetables. This is a very popular cart. I had a taste of Ziba's spinach and cheese pita. It was wonderful, and not at all what I expected when I heard the word Pita. Crackly and brown in spots, tender and chewy in others. Mmmmm....lots of love in those pitas. Can't wait to go back on an empty stomach.

That was where about half of us threw in the towel, while the rest of the gang continued on to Cacao for some drinking chocolate. You know it's bad when you don't even have room for chocolate. All week, the conference was abuzz with Cacao's chocolaty beverages, but sadly I never got to try.

There are a couple more places I must mention. First, Spella Caffe. On our way to the food carts we stopped here for some serious coffee, and by serious I mean, WINE SERIOUS. They have a huge passion for beans here, and offered us perfectly brewed steaming cups from a small coffee grower in India. If you're serious about coffee, don't miss Spella while you're in Portland.

Finally, I had heard about this little place that served only one dish, done perfectly: Chicken and Rice at Nong's Khao Man Gai. Nong is from Bangkok, and gives herself fully to this simple, beautiful dish. This is how her menu describes it:

"Poached chicken with rice cooked in chicken stock. Served with soybean sauce (mixed with garlic, ginger and chilies) Bland soup served on the side to complete the dish. "

I loved this place. It was my last pit stop before hitting the road out of Portland, and it was a meal with so much heart. It gave me what I call, "Happy Tummy", and got me all the way back to Montana.

The End

Biking and Biting Our Way Across Portland with Ivy Manning and IACP

2010-04-26T15:56:00.000-07:00

Note: If you receive Food-G via email, and cannot see the photos in this post, click here.

Portland seems to be on the tip of everyone's tongue these days. Artsy, progressive, hip, creative, green, and bike-friendly are common descriptors of this magnetic city. I went to Portland last week, as an attendee at the annual IACP (International Association of Culinary Professionals) conference, curious to see how much of the hype was, well, just that.

I came away, infected with 3rd degree P.O.S. : Portland Obsession Syndrome. Man, they're doing some really cool stuff there. And everywhere you look there's something beautiful and hand-crafted, be it in garden, in glass, or on plate. It's so easy to get around, and the people are friendly, and there's this immeasurable quality of hominess, even downtown. The sprawl has been contained, leaving emerald green vistas around it's borders, and it kinda kills me--now that we bought a house in Missoula-- knowing that surfing is only an hour away.

Portland, I get it. I totally and completely get it. You have taken the sparkle from my new home town, and given me a major case of the P.O.S. Blues.

Below is a photo essay detailing the responsible parties and purveyors. Suspect number 1 is Ivy Manning, author of The Farm to Table Cookbook and The Adaptable Feast. She led a couple dozen of us through the streets of Northeast P-Town on an unforgettable Urban Bike and Bite Tour.

That's her in the yellow jacket, as our little biker gang is parking in front of our first stop: Toro Bravo . We walk into this warm and romantic little restaurant and they have the tables set for us with roasted nuts, olives, bread, sherry-spiked chicken liver mousse, pickled beets, and of course, wonderfully juicy Sangria.

That was just the beginning. Plate after platter of food was delivered to table: grilled local asparagus with serrano ham, split prunes stuffed with foie gras, impossibly fluffy salt cod fritters with aioli, and this scrumptious pan of Fideos.

Fideos is a paella made with buccatini-like noodles. Toro Bravo's was bejeweled with fennel sausage, spring peas, and sliced lemon. The perfect amount of saffron-scented nectar tied the dish together, and crispy breadcrumbs added a sparkle of crunch to each bite.

The memory of that Fideos will plague me with longing until my next trip to Portland. It was with great reluctance that we pushed ourselves away from the table, but Ivy had many more stops planned for our tour, and the road beckoned.

Next we toured the main commisary kitchen of Grand Central Bakery, with Piper Davis, co-author of The Grand Central Baking Book .

Piper's mother,Gwenyth Bassetti, was the founder of Grand Central, which distributes it's artisanal breads and baked goods across the Northwest. I enjoyed eating Grand Central bread when I lived in Seattle, so it was interesting to see the heart of this little baking empire. Most impressive was the fact that this family business has stayed committed to the local/sustainable model, even as it's grown to be a rather large bakery. In spite of the fact that they're baking thousands of pies, pastries, cookies, and breads every day, they're able to create a product that tastes like it came out of Grandma's kitchen. It's about the winning combination of good ingredients and good management. It was inspiring to see such a succesful example of these ideals on a very real-world scale.

Next stop was The Meadow ,

a little shop filled with beautiful things. Proprietors Jennifer and Mark Bitterman

have impeccable taste and it shows. Everywhere you look, something precious, pretty, aromatic, or flavorful entices your senses. What the shop is most known for is it's collection of finishing salts from around the world:

They have the most extensive collection of salts in the world. In fact, Mark Bitterman is a Selmelier; in other words, a bona fide expert on salt. His upcoming book, Salted: A Manifesto on the World's Most Essential Mineral, with Recipes (Ten Speed Press), is due out on October 12, 2010.

The Meadow carries more than just salt.

There is also Chocolate,

Wine,

And Flowers!

These Himalayan Salt blocks are one of the big sellers at the store.

Not only are they a lovely rose color, but you can heat them up and use as a cooking stone. How cool is that?!

Just across the street-- Missisipi Street, that is-- is Portland's favorite taqueria,

Translation: Why not? That's a good question. Why you wouldn't eat here, I don't know. We got to sample much of the menu, including carnitas tacos, pollo verde tacos, and surprisingly good veggie (verduras) tacos. I was especially impressed with the Pescado (fish) taco.

It struck the perfect balance of sweet, creamy, salty, and crisp, and it's the first thing I'll order next time I go.

Moving along...

Ned Ludd.

This place got me really fired up. It may have had something to do with the fact that the primary cooking source in the restaurant is a wood-fired oven. Ned Ludd, you see, was the father of the "Luddites", a term now used to refer to those who reject technological advances. There's something very primal happening at Ned Ludd, with it's stacks of chopped wood, and artful rusticity.

We dined on meat pie, house made pickles, and greens wrapped in porchetta. It was all very earthy and low-tech and outrageously inspiring. If you ever have the chance, GO THERE.

Our final pit stop was restaurant, Lincoln:

A super sexy eatery serving what I would call sleek Italian fare. Our last and final course for the day was a rhubarb-topped panna cotta, superbly airy and light. If only I had more room, or maybe a hollow leg, I would have loved to sample Lincoln's savory options (like Whole wheat fettucine with fiddlehead ferns, morel mushrooms and creme fraiche). Word on the street is that they are highly sought after as wedding caterers.

And with that we headed back to Pedal Bike Tours HQ. They did a great job of providing bikes, helmets, and making sure no one went splat. Ivy Manning's IACP tour was a one-shot deal, but if you'd like to eat and bike your way across Portland, Pedal Bike Tours is adding a new food tour to their roster this summer.

Thanks for riding along with Food-G. Ivy Manning showed us one helluva good time. It was an incredible, decadent, delicious, and FUN day, and the beginning of a rather persistent case of P.O.S. There will surely be more to come on Portland (my new obsession).

THE Monte Cristo: A Breakfast for Late Risers

2010-04-14T13:01:00.000-07:00

Do you ever have those mornings when you just can't decide between breakfast or lunch? Maybe you slept in, and eggs sound good, but so does a sandwich...WHAT TO DO??

Here's what:

The fabulous Monte Cristo, a little known breakfast / lunch straddler. I met my first (and best) Monte Cristo at Betty's Diner in Boyne Falls, Michigan-- one of the greatest low-brow breakfast joints in the Great Lakes state. I've never met Betty personally, but my family should build a shrine to her for as much as we worship her good old fashioned home-cooking.

There are many inferior versions of the Monte Cristo out there-- some of them even deep fried and drenched in maple syrup (no thank you), but Betty's perfect Monte Cristo is the muse for my re-creation of this sandwich. Chicken, ham, and swiss cheese are sandwiched between two pieces of french toast and served with a side of sour cream and jam. The sour cream and jam isn't always served with Monte Cristo preparations, and I've wondered if it's a Michigan-thing, or maybe even a Yooper-thing. As far as I'm concerned, it makes the experience; a little dab of each adorning every warm and fluffy bite.

It took a couple trys, but I think I finally nailed it.

The "Betty's" Monte Cristo
(serves 2)

1/3 cup milk
2 tablespoons pure maple syrup (from Michigan if possible)
2 eggs

1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/8 teaspoon salt
few grinds fresh pepper
1 pat butter (don't overdo it-- it makes the french toast flat and greasy)
4 slices english muffin bread, or other good toasting bread
4-6 thin slices smoked ham
4-6 thin slices chicken breast
3 slices swiss cheese
raspberry jam
sour cream

Combine milk, eggs, vanilla, maple syrup, salt and pepper in a medium bowl and whisk to combine.

Melt butter in a large skillet over medium heat. Dip each slice of bread into egg mixture until thoroughly coated. Place in buttered skillet. Flip when the underside is golden brown, 3 to 5 minutes.

Once flipped, top 2 of the pieces with swiss cheese (1 1/2 slices each). On the other 2 pieces, layer the chicken and ham. When the other side of the french toast is golden brown, sandwich the two sides together. If the meat and cheese needs a little more time to heat, just continue to grill the sandwich, flipping occasionally until cheese is melted and everything is heated through.

Cut each Monte Cristo crosswise and serve with ramekins of sour cream and raspberry jam.

Food for Thought: The Secret of Dominica

2010-04-01T10:50:00.000-07:00

Sometimes as travelers, we come across places that are so beautiful, so rare, and so full of nature’s magic, that we want to keep them a secret. Food-G fans and followers, this one's between you and me.

Dominica.

I knew it was special the moment we sailed within view, as it glowed in bright green, framed by a vivid rainbow.

You've probably never heard of it, don't know how to pronounce it (dome-uh-NEE-ka), and are wondering if it's that country attached to Haiti. It's not.

Dominica, located between the Carribbean islands of Guadeloupe and Martinique , is a "natural" kind of island. Abundant fruits, flowers, waterfalls, birds, mountains and rivers add to a lifestyle that celebrates and depends on Earth's abundance. This place is a nature lover's paradise. If you have a spirit of adventure and appreciate rustic, unspoiled beauty and rich local culture, then you're in for a very special treat.

You may have seen parts of the island, like the cypress-lined Indian River, in Pirates of the Carribbean 2.

It's a curious fact that Dominica has one of the highest rates of centenarians (people over 100 years of age) per capita, in the world. A woman there by the name of Israel, recently passed away at the age of 128.

While anchored off the shores of Portsmouth for 5 days, we took a tour of the Northern tip of the island with a wonderful guide named Martin Carriere.

This fact was one of the first he shared with us.

“People live a long time on Dominica,” he told us. "By the end of our day together, you will understand why."

****************

The first place Martin took us was to a shack in the forest. He picked a leaf from the ground and asked us to smell it and guess what kind of leaf it was.

“Ginger! Cinnamon! Clove! Nutmeg!” we called out, all of us wrong.

“It is bay,” he explained. And the shack in the forest was a distillery which made rum out of bay leaves.

The aroma of these bay leaves was much spicier than the grocery store varieties back in the states He listed the things bay leaves were used for: teas, rum, soups, stews, medicines, etc.

Next, he took us to a small home in the forest. When I looked around this seemingly wild setting, I noticed that fruit was hanging from the trees: coconuts,

tangerines, calabash gourds,

and something that looked and tasted like a small, low-acid grapefruit. Martin took out his pocket knife and shaved the bark from a tree.

I held it to my nose: CINNAMON!

He plucked a yellow pod from a tree and cut it open.

It was cacao. Each purple-fleshed cacao bean was encased in slick white pith.

“Taste,” Martin urged,handing me the pod. “Don’t chew, just suck on the outside. You won't like the taste of the beans inside.”

The cacao bean casings were sweet, sour, a bit creamy, and nothing at all like the chocolate.

As we travelled along in Martin’s white van, driving up, over and around volcanic mountains, he pointed out tree after bush after vine bearing some kind of fruit, nut, or medicine: yams, castor beans (for castor oil), bananas, ginger, sugar cane, vanilla orchids, okra. Even cultivated crops seemed to blend into the lush landscape.

Martin plucked one delicious tropical treat after another, offering us samples of flavors unknown to our American palates. And with each plant, he knew what kind of ailment it could treat, from eczema to nail fungus to respiratory health.

We stopped at a beautiful beach, framed in rocky cliffs, where he chopped a stalk of sugar cane, peeled the bark, and cut juicy bite-sized pieces for us. As I chewed the woody pith, the sweet liquid ran down my throat like hummingbird nectar, and I listened to Martin tell us how chewing the wood helped to clean the teeth.

“Noni” he said, picking a knobbly pale-green orb from a tree, “is a very powerful medicine.

Put it in a bowl until it turns black. It will smell very strong and eventually the skin will crack, and ooze a liquid. That liquid is very good for detoxification, and cancer prevention.”

Side note: We took a Noni fruit back to the boat with us, and within 48 hours the cabin reeked of the smelliest, moldiest Limburger you can imagine. We didn’t keep it around long enough to drink the ooze but the smell was amazing in its putridness.

Along the way, we passed many people walking on the roadside, and every single one of them waved and called out greetings, Martin calling back.

“Eh mon! How you going mon? Yah mon!” they would shout to each other.

“Welcome to dee island!” they would shout to us.

At first I wondered if Martin knew all of them. We were stopped by a waterfall eating sweet fresh bananas from the tree, when an elderly man walked up and began to chat with Martin in a language I didn’t recognize. When he left, Martin explained that it is customary to greet and talk with passers by. This way, there are no strangers. The elderly man, he said, was speaking to him in Creole. There were efforts among the islands people to keep this language in use, now that English is the primary language.

We covered but 40 miles and perhaps one-sixth of the island throughout the day. The homes we saw were modest. Many without electricity or running water. There was a noticeable absence of things like televisions, or the big resorts and mansions that have popped up on the hillsides of other Caribbean locales. But everywhere we went there was an authentic sort of wealth.

Doors were wide open, or altogether absent. People sat on their porches conversing, or sharing fresh fruit or a bowl of stew. Little girls—always in pairs, it seemed—waved and smiled huge smiles at us as we passed. It was Sunday, and mothers were walking home from church, with their children skipping along behind them, dressed in crisp, white, neatly-pressed clothes.

We stopped at a small cinder-block house when Martin saw some of his friends. It sat on one of the most beautiful beaches I have ever seen. Two rocky islands rested off shore, and a couple of perfectly-spaced palm trees arced towards the water—the perfect hammock spot. It was the end of a hot day and we were grateful to be offered cold beers. There had just been an election and Martin’s friends, happy about the results, were driving around with a loud speaker proclaiming their victory. When they drove away they turned on their loud speaker and called out to us, “Thank you for coming to Dominica! We love you!”

On the way back to Portsmouth, Martin told us stories of his childhood. How his mother was happy when the mangoes were ripe, because she didn’t have to cook so much. He and his siblings would walk home from school eating mangoes from the trees, the fruit oozing it’s sweet tropical juices. There was no need for candy. When the children had belly aches from too many mangoes, she knew just what leaf or seed or bean or herb to pick to heal them.

I’ve heard it said about the Mediterranean, that it’s not only the natural local diet, but the sense of community people have with their neighbors that keeps them free of ailments like heart disease and cancer. There was a quality to the lives of Dominica’s inhabitants that made me feel envious, and more so because it seemed that the lifestyle here was not taken for granted. The people, at least in this little corner of the island, were living not only off the land, but off each other. Everyone talked to everyone, and very few people we saw were alone. This place, these people, this land, and this lifestyle had a wholeness to it that could be felt.

I think the official motto of the country best sums up it’s spirit:

"Après Bondie, C'est La Ter" (Antillean Creole)

"After God is the Earth"

When we bade farewell to Martin at the end of the day, he asked us if we understood now why people on Dominica live for so long.

“Yes,” we told him. He had helped us understand. Not by telling, but by showing us this very special place. There is no single word, or laundry list of reasons I can give towards a longevity theory. But I can tell you that I felt it, and it did to me the best thing that travel can do to a person. It made me see another way to live. A different way. A simpler way. A more wholistic and connected way. Maybe, a better way. I hope that someday you can go to Dominica. If you do, look up Martin Carriere. He will help you to see for yourself.

Do You Fon-do?

2010-03-18T08:51:00.000-07:00

We celebrated Aunt Pam and Uncle Win's 20th wedding anniversary with them, anchored in Ballast Bay, a beautiful and serene spot off the South end of St. Kitts. The water was calm, the temperature was perfect, and we spent the day lazing around the boat. Noah learned to tie a monkeys fist knot, Pam and Win read their books, and I laid on the bow, listening to Zac Brown and watching the clouds, frigate birds, and pelicans go by. Tons of fish were jumping and little schools of minnows would rise out of the water in a wave, like reverse rain. I pondered a swim, watching a school of squid congregate around the anchor line. I had to talk Noah into going first, so he could scare away whatever was chasing those minnows. It was one of our most beautiful and romantic days in the Carribbean.

That night, to celebrate their 20 years together, we uncorked some wine and dined on cheese fondue. The world would be a better place with more fondue in it. Noah and I don't own a bona fide fondue pot and so don't make it often, but we should, because fondue is just plain fun. Those little forks, cubes of bread and fruit, melted cheese, and a leisurely dining pace create an atmosphere outside the norm. Pammy is a fondue queen and has it down pat. Here's her method for sailboat fondue:

Pammy's Cheese Fon-DO's
This is the WAY to do Fondue. By the time we reached St.Kitt's our stash of fine cheeses from Miami had long since disappeared from the galley--WASN'T ME!! ...ok, it was totally me...No worries--we had Emmi Fondue Cheese (original Swiss style): a pantry product that does not require refrigeration and is great for sailing or camping. At home I would have made my own cheese mixture from scratch, but this stuff was really great, and gave me inspiration for our next backpacking trip.

Pam put the cheese into a saucepan over medium low heat. Soon it was in melted, liquid form. In a large skillet, she sauteed some button mushrooms with a little butter, salt, and pepper. Once they were tender and a little caramelized, they got tossed into the cheese pot. Then, a tablespoon or two of Kirsch was added to spike the mix, along with a pinch of freshly grated nutmeg. Turn the heat to "warm" or off, cover the pan and set aside. The cheese is ready to go.

In the mushroom skillet, over medium heat, Pam melted a few tablespoons of butter and tossed in a couple teaspoons of minced garlic. She added the garlic to the pan and when it was fragrant, she added a sliced baguette (you could also do cubed bread). She tossed it all together in that hot pan and within a few minutes the bread was toasted, fragrant, and garlic-infused. This is a good way to make garlic toast when you don't have an oven handy, and it made a big difference in flavor.

We lit the fondue pot, poured in the cheese, and set the table up in the cockpit so we could dine al fresco, and enjoy a beautiful sunset. With the addition of a few sliced apples and pears, dinner was served.

All these little tricks: the mushrooms, kirsch, fresh nutmeg, and garlic toast-- made a wonderful fondue, and I was inspired to jot down Pammy's tricks so I could become a fondue queen too.

So, do you Fon-Do? If so, please tell Food-G about it in the comment box. What kind of cheese or other accoutrements make your pot bubble? What are your Fon-DO's and Fon-DONT'S? We want to hear about it : )

Lady Budd's Basted Eggs

2010-03-09T12:17:00.000-08:00

Basted Eggs over Sausage and Peppers

Hello dear Food-G readers! I hope you've been enjoying our sail through the balmy Caribbean. I have many more island flavors to share with you, but let's get out of the heat for just a moment, and come back to Montana, USA for some skiing (snowboarding in my case).

On a recent visit to Big Sky, Montana, my good friend whom I will call Lady Budd, showed me a really cool way to cook eggs. It was a beautiful morning and we were whipping up a quick breakfast before heading up the mountain to shred Lone Peak. Lady Budd is a great cook, and healthy too--a real pro with veggies. So she grabbed an assortment of items from her produce drawer for a scramble: a few potatoes, garlic, broccoli, zucchini, button mushrooms, and grape tomatoes. I helped her chop it all up while we heated a large nonstick skillet with a little olive oil and a little butter-- that's a trick I learned from Chef Marco, my favorite instructor at CCA; using both olive oil and butter together creates a more interesting flavor than one or the other alone, and is especially nice with eggs.

Lady Budd disappeared to gear up, while I sauteed the veggies. The trick here is knowing when to add what. Potatoes take the longest to cook, so I added those first, over medium-high heat along with the garlic. A few minutes later, I added the button mushrooms and zucchini, and once everything was tender (not crisp, not mushy) and a little brown in spots, I added the tomatoes. I gave it all a light sprinkle of salt and pepper, and turned the heat down to low/medium low.

The whole time I was sauteeing, I was thinking, This is too much veg for a scramble. The beautiful yellow egg is going to look lost and brown amongst this big pan of veggie hash.

What to do? When Lady Budd returned I asked her if we should do the eggs on the side.

"We can just baste them," she said.
"Baste?" I had never cooked eggs that way. "What is this basting of which you speak?"
"It's kind of like poaching them," Lady Budd explained, "but instead of breaking them into water, you cook them with steam. We can just crack the eggs on top of the veggies, cover it with a lid, and the steam from the vegetables will cook the eggs right on top."
"I love this idea!" I said. The wonderful thing about cooking is that there's always something new to learn.

"We can sprinkle some cheese on the veggies before we add the eggs, so that it melts underneath," and with that Lady Budd crumbled some fresh goat cheese onto the veggies, and then poured the cracked (but not beaten) eggs evenly atop the hash. She turned the heat to medium-low so as not to burn the veg, and then began the steaming process by use of a tight fitting lid. It took about 10 minutes for the eggs to set up. Heather used a big spatula to dish our breakfast into shallow bowls, and then we sprinkled on some diced avocado and chopped gree onion. Wa lah!

Poaching eggs can be time consuming and frustrating. This technique, however, was equally healthy and way easier. They're all done at the same time and you can serve it up nice and hot, right out of the pan. So delicious and nourishing. A perfect ski breakfast. We were fueled up and ready to go make some turns in the sunshine.

The bad news is I had forgotten my camera and didn't take photos of Lady Budd's Basted Eggs, which were beautiful as the Montana sunrise. The good news is, once I returned home, I tried the basted eggs technique for myself, and came up with another version for you to see and try. There are endless possibilities once you learn this technique. It's perfect for those what's-in-the-fridge mornings. Have fun with it. Thanks for the inspiration Lady Budd!

Basted Eggs over Sausage and Peppers
(serves 2 on its own, or 4 with a side of grits and toast)

1 teaspoon butter
1 teaspoon olive oil
1 small yellow onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
3/4 cup sliced button mushrooms
2 large links chicken-apple sausage, diced (I like Aidell's)
1 medium red bell pepper, diced
1/2 cup grated cheddar cheese
4 eggs
1 tablespoon chopped chives or green onion, for garnish
1/3 cup fresh diced tomato, for garnish
salt, pepper, and cayenne to taste

First make sure you have a medium-large skillet with a TIGHT FITTING LID. Place over medium-high heat and add butter and olive oil. When butter is melted and begins to sizzle, add the onion, garlic, mushrooms, and sausage to the pan. Cook, stirring, until the onions have begun to soften and the mix is really talking to you (SIZZLE SIZZLE SIZZLE!). Add the peppers and continue to cook until the mixture is beginning to brown in spots. Taste and season the mixture with salt, pepper, and cayenne if desired.

Reduce heat to medium-low. Make sure the hash is in a nice even layer before sprinkling on the cheese. Immediately crack the eggs onto the hash, and cover with a tight fitting lid.

See all that steam? That's what's going to cook your eggs. At this point the pan should still be talking to you, but more quietly (sizzle...sizzle...sizzle...). If it's too loud, reduce your heat. Be patient with this part, so you don't burn the bottom. The eggs can take a while to reach the desired degree of doneness. Mine took about 12 minutes. Go ahead, take a quick peek, but put the lid right back on to keep all that hot steam in. Test the eggs by touching the yolk for firmness. Don't be shy. The sunny-looking eggs might appear "easy", even when they're hard.

Once the eggs have reached your preferred state. remove from heat, and sprinkle with chives and diced tomato. Use a spatula to scoop portions from pan to plate. Enjoy!

Sailboat Cookery 101

2010-03-05T16:20:00.000-08:00

Cooking on a sailboat falls somewhere between camping and home cooking, depending of course on what size/kind of boat you're on. The "Meanwhile" had a nice, well-equipped galley, big enough for 2 people who aren't afraid of bumping butts. Our meals spanned the gamut from grab-n-go snacks to full-blown feasts. What we ate was influenced by 2 main factors: (a) Were we underway? and (b) What needed to be used up?

While underway, quick and easy was the ticket. The difference between a galley and a kitchen is that a galley moves, and while the boat is bobbing (or bucking) along, it can be tough to be below decks for too long, especially when it's hot out. If it wasn't too rough I tried to help with the cooking as much as I could. Once I got used to the gimbaled gas stove, it was pretty easy. With the pull of a pin, the whole unit could swing on an axis point, to compensate for the rocking waves. And little adjustable safety rods held the pots and pans in place. A pot of boiling water? No problem.

Pam was a wiz at whipping up dinners in less than 20 minutes; stuff like pasta, or stir-fry were good options, and we made use of convenience products like boil-in-bag rice, bottled sauces, and pre-cut frozen vegetables. The rest of the day we snacked on things like crackers and spreads, fruit, yogurt, trail mix, tortilla chips, etc.

Win and Pam had been sailing in the Mediterranean for the last few years so their pantry was stocked with some nice foreign delicacies that came in handy for quick eats. One of my favorite meals was a couple tins of lemon and herb sardines, served on top of saltines with french mustard and tabasco. We ate salmon pate from France that came in a toothpaste-type tube, with a label that read, "Voulez-vous pate avec moi?" Surprisingly good. And Pammy used some little jars of pickled vegetable treasures for antipasti or a quick throw-together pasta dish.

If we were getting ready to set sail, we might make things that would keep well, and serve the leftovers while underway. Pammy baked wonderful banana bread in her convection/microwave oven. I made a big batch of bolognese sauce that stretched through a couple of dinners. A zucchini and goat cheese fritatta got us through breakfast one day and lunch the next.

If we were moored, on anchor, or in a marina, we could pretty much cook like we were at home. We sauteed freshly caught fish in olive oil, garlic, and lime juice, and made fish tacos. I cooked Noah veal cutlets in a mushroom-caper sauce for his birthday. One night Win cooked his famous drunken mushrooms (pictured above) for us. Sherry, mushroom caps, butter, garlic coins, and more sherry. The smell of these will make you crazy with appetite.

They even had a little gas grill, which came in handy for our 6-course Christmas feast, complete with a succulent brined turkey breast; along with oyster stuffing, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes with pecans and brown sugar, gingered cranberry chutney, and pumpkin pie. Pam pulled a little Christmas tree out of nowhere, and between that, our little snowflake lights, and some Andrea Bocelli Christmas tunes, we had an unforgettable Christmas in the Road Town Marina. I loved hearing the islanders call out to each other, "Seasons greetins!"

Every sailor has their own approach to the galley. Thanks to our strategy of a well-stocked pantry we neither sacrificed nor starved on the boat. And like camping, we found that everything tastes better when you're dining al fresco.

From Miami with Love

2010-02-24T18:21:00.000-08:00

Hello dear Food-G fans. Oh, how I’ve missed you. Please allow me to apologize for my temporary absence. We been in dee islands mon!

I didn’t exactly fall of the face of the earth; rather, Mr. Food-G and I sailed off the edge of it for a while. We sailed from Miami to St. Lucia on Noah's Aunt and Uncle's 54 foot ketch. 1,600 nautical miles, 2,000 air miles, and 3,000 road miles later, we are finally cooling our heels. The tornado of transition that has been our life is fizzling, and it looks like Montana is our new home state. Hooray! We are so happy to be here.

There have been so many meals, so many stories, and so many flavors to share with you; it’s hard to know where to begin. Most people glaze over when we regale the beauty of all the places we stopped at, or how spectacular the sunsets (and sunrises) were from the boat. They’re more interested in the part of the trip where we left Miami, on our first sailing trip ever, and got caught in gale force winds and fifteen foot seas for three days straight. But you don’t want to hear about all that. Food-G fans and followers, I know what you’re interested in. You want to know what we ATE!

Ohhh so many flavors in the Caribbean. They do a lot more than jerk it up down there, and I was taken by pleasant surprise at the ubiquity of spices perfuming each dish.

I threw together a sample of a typical island menu for you:

THE CARIBBEAN TABLE

EATS

Conch Fritters : Like a hush puppy filled with bits of clam-like conch meat, and served with one of a hundred varieties of dipping sauce. We became connoisseurs of these and ate them at almost every port we set foot on. Wash a plate of these down with a piña colada, made fresh and sprinkled with freshly grated nutmeg.

Chicken Roti : A very thin unleavened Indian wrap, typically filled with a sweet, yellow, chicken and potato curry, best when served with mango chutney. This was a favorite and filling lunch.

Curry Chicken : Usually stewed in a yellow coconut milk sauce. I’ve never eaten so much curry in my life as we did in the Caribbean, but these flavors had a decidedly West Indian spin. Sweeter, milder, and less fiery than India-style curries. Think less cumin, and more cinnamon.

Jerk Fish or Chicken : I had never had good jerk before Big Poppa’s in Dominica. This former body guard used his gargantuan hands to pulverize the ultimate mix of herbs, spices, onions, and hot peppers. Rub it on chicken, or fish, and char-grill it over a smoky fire. The memory makes my mouth water (and burn a little too).

Honey Stung Chicken: Sweet and crispy, this chicken is soaked in a honey-based marinade, and then deep fried.

Creole Chicken or Fish : Similar to New Orleans Creole, with tomatoes, peppers, onions, and okra, but with more aromatic spices, and less cayenne.

The impossible-to-escape Cheeseburger in Paradise : I lost count of how many islands claimed to serve the “original”. Nonetheless, Jimmy Buffet was right, there's nothing like a cheeseburger in paradise.

DRINKS

Painkillers : the official rum cocktail of the virgin islands. Dark rum, cream of coconut, pineapple and orange juice. You won’t be feeling much pain in the islands, but take a couple of these anyway.

Rum Punch (aka Dumb Punch) : This varied greatly island to island, and bar to bar. Some were refreshing and lightly sweet, almost like a guava-juice sweetened tea. Others were syrupy and overwhelmingly sweet.

Local Beers: Turks Head Lager was my personal favorite (Turks & Caicos). But Piton, named after St. Lucia’s volcanic twin peaks took a very close second.

Overall, the flavors of the Carribean are as vibrant as it's tourquoise waters. We returned, determined to conjure up a good recipe for Roti as well as Jerk Rub. As soon as we find home and kitchen, I'll get right on that. Until then, thanks for returning to Food-G for this tropical getaway. As they say in dee islands... YAH MON!

La Châtelaine Chocolaterie: Paris by way of Bozeman, Montana

2009-12-02T17:28:00.000-08:00

Discovery is one of the greatest joys of being a traveler. La Châtelaine Chocolaterie in Bozeman, Montana was so unexpected, so perfectly hidden, and finally—most importantly—so unbelievably delicious, it made being quarantined for 4 days at the C’mon Inn with “THE” flu absolutely worth it. Rolling one of their mint chocolates around in my mouth made me glad I waited until we were back in the truck. I sounded like I was in an Herbal Essences commercial. When Noah tried to ask me something I had to hold up my finger and shush him.

“Not now,” I said, “I’m having a moment.”

Tucked into a cluster of old buildings off of Bozeman’s main drag is a little white cottage—said to be part of an old homestead—advertising “Chocolat” in red neon letters. Noah and I wandered in after a lunch of red beans and rice at neighboring Cajun favorite, “Café Zydeco”. I was starting to feel like I was kicking the flu and my appetite was coming back with a vengeance. So we wandered into La Châtelaine, lured by a clever orange and chocolate-colored sign that took me back to my first trip to Paris, at 17 years of age. While on exchange in Berlin, I took the night train to the city of lights, and while there, blew half my monthly allowance on a silk scarf at the Hermès boutique. It is quite possibly the most beautiful thing I own, and the distinctive orange and brown box is part of the experience. The scarf sits, never worn, in a safe deposit box, still wrapped in the sizzle of it’s original tissue paper.

La Châtelaine’s Beautiful orange boxes, with chocolate colored Parisian font, tapped into my weakness for pretty packaging. But would the contents of these lovely boxes live up to the beauty of their façade?

Yes. Yes. And yes again.

With the help of proprietor and chocolatier, Shannon Hughes Grochowski [Click to see her blog: Chocolate and French Lessons ], we sampled a half dozen miniature chocolate delights, covered in smooth and refined chocolate and infused with flavors like blood orange, meyer lemon, and burnt caramel. There were caramels topped with merlot salt, a bergamot truffle infused with earl grey tea, and a chili spiced dark chocolate—all of them made in the back of the shop. High-quality chocolate, natural flavors, and handmade beauty all combined to make me giddy with delight.

As luck would have it, Noah and I went out for a lovely dinner that evening at Ted’s Montana Grill, located on Bozeman’s beautiful Main Street in the historic Baxter Hotel. And who had set up a gleaming orange and chocolate colored oasis in the lobby? It was La Châtelaine’s satellite location.

First, we walked past it, too full of roasted chicken and Delmonico steak to think about dessert, but an after-dinner sweet tooth slowed me down as we passed “La Petite Chatelaine” just long enough to notice a gleaming, churning tank of thick chocolat. Hot chocolat. We got halfway down the block before I decided we must turn around, dragging Noah, who was not so reluctant to indulge in his own steaming hot cocoa, topped with a handmade marshmallow and a dollop of whipped cream.

“Mmm,” he said in his masculine grunting sort of way, expressing his approval with a nod. No words, just attentive sipping. I could tell he really liked it.

If you’ve read the book "Chocolat" by Joanne Harris, there’s a good chance you remember the way the author describes the hot chocolat served in the main character’s candy shop; more elixir than beverage, possessing the power to hold it’s drinkers in a blissful trance. Her vivid descriptions tortured me with cravings for a French-style hot chocolate I had never tasted and didn’t know how to make. After the first sip from my little paper cup, my years-old craving was sated. This was the hot chocolat of Chocolat.

Driving back to our hotel, I found myself under the influence of chocolate-induced endorphins.

“I love you Noah!” I blurted. He laughed one of those ‘you are such a huge dork’ laughs. “I think this hot chocolate is like, intensifying my feelings,” I said.

We were both taken by surprise. Bozeman has changed a lot since our love story began in this neck of Western Montana, almost fourteen years ago. We spent our recent time there in awe of the changes, the growth, both good and bad. Alluring boutiques and the blight of big box stores canvassed over the foundation of what was not long ago one of the last real cowboy towns. Like any beautiful place, it has drawn people to it, and all that comes with that. Who would have ever thought that a place like La Châtelaine, worthy of the shop fronts of Paris, would grace this little Big Sky town?

Whatever drew the Grochowski’s to Bozeman, the people of this town are lucky they did. I left the store with one of those beautiful orange and brown boxes, but the contents of this one will never last to see the inside of a safe deposit box.

Kimbo's Cakes

2009-11-28T10:39:00.000-08:00

Holy smokes, I have so much to tell you about! Time sure does fly when you’re on the road, and I’ve got at least three new posts queued up. I’ve been in Seattle, Montana, Wyoming, and now Florida. Next week I set sail from Miami, and head down to the Carribbean. I know… it’s rough. Anywho, I will be sending out some rapid-fire posts before we go, and have yet to determine whether or not I will be able to post again before we return from our voyage.

There is so much to cover from our trip in Seattle—first and foremost, my sister Kim. I guess you can say that food runs in our family.

The world needs to know about her. Not only is she a first-class sister, who offers shelter to us vagabonds every fall; she is also a tremendously gifted artist, who worked with glass for many years before shifting her talents to working with sugar. She attended the baking and pastry program at the phenomenal and groundbreaking Seattle Culinary Academy(by the way, if any of you are researching culinary schools be sure to check out this cutting edge and affordable program). Her specialty is wedding cakes. She is currently employed at the new Four Seasons Hotel in downtown Seattle, and prior to that she made wedding cakes for Macrina Bakery. She is currently in the process of putting together a web page—I’ll let you know when it’s ready.

For now, check out a couple of the cakes she made while Noah and I were in town.

This is her Signature Carrot Cake.

Super moist and perfectly spiced layers of carrot cake with a silky buttercream frosting, are topped with handmade marzipan baby carrots and devil’s food soil. So clever!

This one grabbed almost a thousand dollars at a charity auction, and I was the lucky one who got to watch her make it while sampling cake and frosting scraps.

Sooo good.

This next one she made at work features the name and logo of the restaurant at Seattle’s lovely new Four Seasons hotel. Cool!

I love the tubes of paint and the gold dust on the lettering of this artist’s palette—a perfect metaphor for my sister’s incredible work. Go Kimbo!

Just wanted to introduce her to you. I have a feeling you'll be seeing more of her soon.

Spirit of the Raisin

2009-11-25T12:16:00.000-08:00

As you may know from my last post, Noah and I have left our sleepy, rain-soaked, Alaskan hideaway, and are on the road. When we deplaned in Seattle, life suddenly accelerated. Text messages, combat driving, rush hour traffic, social calendars, restaurant reservations, dress clothes, and pay parking suddenly filled our days. As did family and friends, phenomenal food, abundant art, Seahawks games, dodge ball games, sushi dinners in tatami rooms, and handmade tortelli with porcini mushrooms in truffle oil. I realized after a couple of years in Juneau that living in Alaska is like living in a different country, and leaving it meant a bit of culture shock in both welcome and challenging ways.

It feels like we’ve been unplugged for the last few years, and for a reluctant technophile like me, that hasn’t necessarily been unpleasant. Dinner conversation in Juneau revolves around bears, salmon, whales, eagles, and how to survive the weather. Dinner conversation in Seattle covers music, iPhones, art, Twitter, and food. It’s the city versus country cliché, and I seem driven somehow to straddle both worlds; perhaps, with one foot more heavily rooted in the countryside realm.

Midway through our stay, Noah and I traveled to Whidbey Island for an overnight retreat.

Food dovetails so seamlessly into so many experiences, connecting us to each other, connecting our days, and granting me a unifying thread in my writing. So it was with delight that I sat with my friend Kurt Hoelting at the Whidbey Institute for a day of mindfulness, which began with a handful of raisins.

Three raisins to be exact, and I’m guessing we spent about fifteen minutes eating them.

After a city week of continuous indulgence, a feast of flavors at our favorite old haunts and a few new ones, I found myself sitting quietly, with a small group of people, in a little sanctuary, actively doing nothing for a day. No place to go. No cell phones or emails. Nothing to achieve but nothing.

Kurt welcomed the group with a beautiful poem: Love after Love by Derek Walcott. Then, he passed around a cup of raisins, and told us each to take three raisins from the cup, and refrain from gobbling them up. Instead, we held them in our hand.

“Look at the raisins, like you’ve never seen a raisin before,” Kurt suggested. And I began to notice the wrinkled brown nubbins in my palm. There were actually a number of colors on each fruit, red-brown, purpley-grey, and dimples filled with a whitish film. I picked up the biggest raisin, and saw it with new eyes, an alien edible.

“Put the raisin up to your nose," Kurt guided us, "noticing how your arm moves your hand to your nose, with ease, without thinking, with effortless coordination, and inhale the scent of the raisin.”

The perfume filled my nostrils, like a glass of very old port. Sweet. Musky. Burnt sugar and vanilla and mineral soil. How had I never noticed the scent of a raisin?!

“Now put the raisin in your mouth,” Kurt said, “but don’t chew it up right away. Roll it around in your mouth. Feel the shape of it on your tongue.”

I sensed it’s softness, firmness, ridges, dimples. And when I was ready, I bit into it, feeling the skin break between my teeth, feeling the density of it’s dried pith, and most of all tasting the full explosive complexity of this ugly little fruit that I never really cared for. I had never thought about a raisin. If anything, I merely tolerated them.

I had been devouring my way through Seattle’s culinary Shangri-la, and I found my mind wondering what levels of flavor, texture, and aroma I had been missing out on. Not to say I didn’t appreciate all those wonderful meals (with gusto), but what might they have tasted like if given this kind of attention? What deeper level of richness could I bring to the experience of eating, just by slowing down, by paying closer attention?

Without haste, we moved on to the second raisin, this time keeping in mind how the raisin was made. What went into this little fruit? Earth. Water. Sun. A trellis for the vine to grow on. A hand to pick the grapes, and some way to dry them. A box to store them in, ship them in, sell them in. A truck to transport them on, and a driver to deliver them. A buyer. A shopping bag. And a hand to open the package with. This time, when I tasted the raisin, I uncovered mineral elements, flavors that went beyond my own personal experience and tiptoed onto the bigger picture. When I held an appreciation for the earth that grew the raisin, I could taste the terrior—or geography of the fruit. This was an even deeper level of paying attention.

Finally, with the third raisin, Kurt brought our attention to the little stem or hole on one end of the raisin, and asked us to think about what the raisin was attached to. My third raisin had a tiny peg of a stem, and it made me think of an umbilical cord. I pulled the stem from the raisin, and the hole it left made me think of a belly button.

“We are all connected somehow,” Kurt reminded us, and I thought about how each grape is connected to a stem, a stalk, a leaf, a root, the earth. Words like holistic and interconnected get thrown around a lot these days. It’s easy to forget their true meaning, to forget how to feel the connection we share as living organisms on this planet.

What an eye opening experience, all because of three humble little raisins. Before breaking for lunch Kurt said, “Let’s bring the spirit of the raisin into our experience of lunch today.”

The spirit of the raisin. I like that. It’s something I hope to carry with me from that day on Whidbey, and something I wanted to share with you. Happy Thanksgiving Food-G readers. May you bring the spirit of the raisin into your experience of your own Thanksgiving meal.

Blueberry Cottage Cheese Pancakes: A Farewell Meal

2009-11-05T14:53:00.000-08:00

The sun has set on our time in Alaska. After four years, Noah and I are moving on. Saying goodbye to this place has been harder than any other, and the only salve is the fact that we have a literal sea of possibilities before us. Don’t ask where we’re moving to; the answer to that question is still ironing itself out, but I’ll let you know when we find our new home.

In the meantime, Food-G is hitting the road! I’ll be sharing our stories and meals with you from the Northwest, Florida, and even the Caribbean through the next coupla months. Tally HO sailors! We are pulling anchor and FLAVOR AWAITS!

...Back in Juneau, when the time came to clear out our freezer, I found a bag of blueberries I had picked back in August. It’s hard to compare the intensity of an Alaskan Blueberry to those of the Lower 48. They are so much more tart, more intense, so full of dark juice-- I’ve got quite a few ruined tee shirts to prove it. They stain your teeth and lips and fingers and everything they touch with deep magenta. When I eat them, especially along the trail, it’s as if I can feel their nutrients energizing my body—emphasis on the “-zing”.

I held the bag in my hands and wondered, “When will I be back here? When will I be able to taste the radical wildness of these berries again? I must not let them go to waste!”

I grabbed a skillet, a tub of cottage cheese, and my trusty box of Bisquick (yes, Bisquick. It’s part of my childhood, and one of the few convenience foods I love too much to give up). Noah poked his head into the kitchen, lured by the smell of toasting batter in a buttered pan.

“What’s for breakfast?” he asked.

“My favorite breakfast of all time,” I said.

“Blueberry pancakes then?” (It feels good to be known so well…)

“Yep,” I said happily, “With wild blueberries and cottage cheese.”

Tasting those berries, intensified by warmth, was the perfect last meal. Someone once said to me that life is a series of moments, some of them great. Berries are like that, a series of really sweet moments. I will never forget the one’s we’ve had here.

Blueberry Cottage Cheese Pancakes (serves 4)

Cottage cheese curds dot these crispy-gooey pancakes with little bits of melty goodness. The best way to add blueberries to pancakes is to pour the batter, and then drop the blueberries individually onto each cake.

2 cups Bisquick Baking Mix

2 tablespoons sugar

2 eggs

1 cup milk

1 cup cottage cheese (large curd is best)

A few grinds of pepper

1 – 1 ½ cups blueberries, fresh or frozen

Butter or cooking spray, for pan

Combine first 6 ingredients in a medium mixing bowl and stir to combine. Heat a small to medium nonstick skillet over medium to medium low heat (4 out of 10 on the heat dial). Coat the pan with a thin sheen of butter or spray before pouring in a 4-inch wide dollop of batter. Immediately drop a few of the blueberries (evenly spaced) into the batter. When edges look dry flip the cake, and continue cooking until golden brown on both sides.

Another blast from summer's past: Forget-Me-Nots, the Alaskan State Flower.

Farewell Alaska. Forget you, I won't.

Citrusy Pecan Garbanzo Couscous: A salad for cold weather

2009-10-23T13:24:00.000-07:00

When the temperature drops, so does my salad consumption. I live in Alaska, and the only iceberg I want to see in winter months is the type that fell off a glacier. Even though plenty of cooked vegetables make their way into our cold-weather meals, my body craves the vitality of raw fruits and vegetables, minus their chill; hence, the salad conundrum of summer’s end.

Here’s one solution:

Citrusy Pecan Garbanzo Couscous.
It’s crisp, crunchy, nutty, and warm. It also happens to be vegan. (Serves 2 as an entrée, 4 as a side)

1 cup whole wheat Israeli couscous
1 – 15 oz. can Garbanzo beans, drained
½ teaspoon ground cumin
1/8 teaspoon smoked paprika
1 orange, juice and zest
½ cup diced red bell pepper
¼ cup roughly chopped parsley
2 green onions, chopped
¼ cup chopped pecans, toasted
2 tablespoons dried currants
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 teaspoon rice vinegar
1 teaspoon honey
Salt and pepper, to taste

Prepare couscous according to package instructions. Meanwhile combine all remaining ingredients in a medium mixing bowl. Drain couscous and add to bowl while still hot. Thoroughly mix all ingredients. Taste and adjust seasonings. Serve warm.

Happy Thanksgiving! (a primer on mashed potatoes and gratitude)

2009-10-12T16:51:00.000-07:00

No, I’m not in a time warp. I’m celebrating Thanksgiving Canadian-style. Today is the day on which Canadians celebrate and give thanks for a successful harvest. It’s not just about mashed potatoes, but about people gathering with food in the spirit of gratitude, and that’s a beautiful thing.

I’ve been thinking a lot about gratitude lately, because I believe it to be one of the most transformative forces in the universe. It’s been a trying year for many. Our jobs, our homes, our savings, have been tested, and sometimes lost. Our illusions of security and stability have been deeply rattled, if not dissolved. But even during the hardest times, we can find things to be thankful for, and doing so brings us back to the present, and back to basics. The silver lining, in these wanting days, is that we are remembering how much we already have.

I was thumbing through some papers the other day, and I found this little journal entry, dated December 19, 2008:

(Missoula, MT) Noah and I had lunch at Taco del Sol today—seems like everything happens there. We had just sat down with our fish tacos when I saw a disheveled derelict-looking guy walk over to the table next to us and set his taco down in front of him. He stood over his food, and pressed his hands together in front of his mouth. He was smiling, huge. Before he sat down he raised both fists in a little cheer.

“Yeah” he said, so excited to eat this good food. He was looking at it the way someone might look at a trophy or a new-born child. He admired it for a while before taking the first bite, and when he did, he chewed the food quietly, thoughtfully, like a prayer.

Later, while we were warming the car up, I saw him on his way down Higgins Avenue. One of his legs had a rough hitch while he walked, and one of his arms was turned grotesquely inward. I wondered if he was a veteran. It was 8 degrees. He had no gloves on and limped down the street, slowly. But his eyes were lit up, like the food he had just eaten was casting a warm glow, outward from his full belly. All day I couldn’t stop thinking about him, cheering over his taco. I’m learning so much about gratitude these days.

Our household has gone back to basics of late. Noah had his wisdom teeth removed last week, so I’ve been making a LOT of mashed potatoes—great practice for American Thanksgiving. I pretty much have it down to a science at this point, and believe me, mashed potatoes are a science. Below you will find my mashed potato primer.

TIPS FOR THE ULTIMATE MASHED POTATOES

Use a starchy potato like russets for the fluffiest mash. Peel and cut into large cubes.

Start the potatoes in cool, salted water. This ensures that they cook evenly throughout, whereas adding them to boiling liquid tends to overcook the outside of the cubes before the inside is done.

Cook the potatoes just until soft. They should break apart with a fork when pierced. Do not overcook.

When mashed potatoes are over-processed (or over-cooked), the starchy molecules can break down and make them gummy. To prevent gluey mashed potatoes avoid over mixing. I use a hand mixer on the lowest speed, for no more than 1 minute.

Heat your liquid. Whether you’re using chicken stock, milk, sour cream, half and half, cream cheese, or all of the above, combine and heat in the microwave before adding to potatoes. This will help prevent the potatoes from becoming gluey—it’s less stress to the starch granules, and we want to keep those intact.

Use enough liquid. I use about 1 cup of liquid per 2 large russet potatoes. It took me a while to figure out that potatoes can take quite a bit of liquid, and are best when made moist enough that the mixture yields easily to a spoon—not heavy and firm, not runny and lifeless, but light and fluffy.

Don’t be shy with the salt. Potatoes can take a lot of the stuff. I add at least ½ teaspoon per 2 large russets.

Do not melt the butter before adding; instead, add it cold. I owe this valuable tidbit of information to cookbook author Diane Morgan, and her informative newsletter. I used to melt the butter before mixing the potatoes, but no matter how much I added, the flavor seemed to get lost. Then I learned from http://www.dianemorgancooks.com/ that potato molecules are highly absorbent, and if the butter is added hot, it just gets soaked into the starch molecules. This blocks the butter from hitting your tongue. I don’t know about you, but if I’m going to eat butter, I want to taste it. So add some cold, diced-up butter to the bowl just before mixing, and you’ll get a lot more flavor bang for your buttery buck.

Got it? Start in cold salted water. Cook till fork tender. Drain and place in a mixing bowl. Add hot liquid, hefty salt (and pepper), and cold (salted) butter. Blend briefly with a hand mixer, and avoid over mixing.

Follow those tips and you’re well on your way to perfect mashed potatoes, and we can all be grateful for that.

Chicken Cacciatore and the Art of Flavor Balance

2009-10-05T17:34:00.000-07:00

I’m going to let you in on a big, expensive secret. I had to go to culinary $chool to get a thorough grasp on the concept, but it’s been the single most important lesson I took from my formal training.

At the heart of every great meal ever made is this one guiding principle, the key to unlocking flavor, the essence of kitchen success. Are you ready? Drumroll….

ACID. SALT. FAT.

That’s it. The acid-salt-fat balance is a three-legged stool. Flavor comes to life when there is the right amount of fat (in the form of oil, butter, meat renderings), salt (kosher, sea, seasoned,soy sauce, etc.), and acid (citrus juices, vinegars, wine, etc.) When one of the “legs” is out of balance, it just doesn’t stand up.

But when you strike that harmonious three-note chord … LaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaH… success!

Ever made hollandaise sauce? Egg yolks, butter, salt, lemon juice? The stuff is pure fat, salt, and acid. While making hollandaise I’ve tasted the yellow froth consisting of pure egg yolks and butter, before the salt and lemon were added. Bleck! But add a hefty pinch of salt, and the right amount of lemon juice, and it’s, “like Baby Jesus sliding down your throat in velvet slippers.” (from Ruth Reichl’s memoir, "Comfort Me with Apples").

How do you know how much fat, salt or acid to add? Taste. And taste again. Take baby steps at first, following the rule that you can always add more, but you can’t take it out. Soon, you will become a master.

This recipe is a great one for learning to tune your acid-salt-fat senses. Anyone who knows a lick about cooking knows how to make a tomato sauce, but if you want to make one that takes your quick Tuesday night pasta dinner from lackluster to HALLELEUJAH! then make this.

Olive oil carries the flavor, white wine and tomatoes brighten it with acid, and enough salt makes your mouth say hooray! to this Chicken Cacciatore. If it’s not working, add another sprinkle of salt, stir, and taste. Close your eyes, roll it around in your mouth with a noodle or two. Tastebuds are a cook’s best friend. They’ll let you know exactly when you’ve hit the bull’s-eye.

Chicken Cacciatore (serves 4-6)

1¾ lb. boneless, skinless chicken breast, cut into ½” cubes
¼ cup flour
½ teaspoon seasoned salt (like Lawry’s)
¼ teaspoon freshly ground pepper
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 med. onion, diced
1 red bell pepper, diced
3 large cloves garlic, minced
½ teaspoon paprika
½ teaspoon dried oregano
½ teaspoon dried basil
2 teaspoons sugar
¾ to 1 teaspoon kosher salt, or to taste
Dash cayenne (optional)
½ cup white wine
1 – 6 oz. jar marinated artichoke hearts, drained and quartered
1 – 4 oz. can sliced black olives, drained
1 – 28 oz. can crushed tomatoes
1 lb. dried pasta of choice (gemelli, rotini, or penne recommended)
Freshly grated parmesan cheese

1. In a large ziplock bag combine the flour, seasoned salt, and pepper. Shake to mix thoroughly. Add chicken to the bag, and shake to evenly coat pieces. In a large (5 quart) dutch oven or soup pot, heat 2 tablespoons of the olive oil over med-hi heat. Once the oil is hot and shimmery, add chicken and cook, stirring occasionally, until golden brown in spots, 8 to 10 minutes. Remove chicken from pan and set aside.

2. Reduce heat to medium, and add remaining 1 tablespoon olive oil pan. Add onion and bell pepper and sauté 5 minutes or until soft. Add garlic, paprika, herbs, sugar, salt, and cayenne to the pan, and cook stirring, 1 minute more.

3. Add wine to the pan and bring to a simmer before adding artichoke hearts, olives, browned chicken, and crushed tomatoes. Stir to combine. Bring to a simmer and reduce heat to low. Cover and simmer 20 minutes, stirring occasionally.

4. While sauce is cooking, boil the pasta. Before serving taste and adjust seasonings in the sauce. Top or toss pasta with sauce and freshly grated parmesan cheese. Mangia!