Word of Mouth

Delicious Giving

2011-12-20T19:41:00.000-08:00

It is the season to give and it is the season to bake. I like to combine the two. This is time of year you’ll find me in my kitchen baking delicious and decadent treats instead of walking through the malls (not that you’d ever find me walking through malls any other time of the year).

The hardest part of making food gifts for the holidays is deciding what to make. As I prepared to write this article, I sorted through my cookbooks looking for a few good recipes. I filled an entire page with ideas (granted I was hungry when I did this).

Food gifts can range from simple cookies and breads to elaborate candies or homemade mustards and jams; or how about fresh made cheese; or handmade liqueur or infused wines and liquors; or flavored butters and honeys; or jars layered with all the ingredients for the receiver to bake up a batch of something yummy themselves. See what I mean, I just couldn’t stop. It all sounded good, fun to make, and even more fun to give (you should see the look of bliss and wonder when someone bites into one of your homemade marshmallows for the first time).

I usually decide to make a half dozen different items and give a few of each to everyone on my gift list. Once I’ve whittled down my list, I look for the perfect containers to give them in. It’s not fair to your delicious creations to be given on a paper plate with some plastic wrap thrown over it.

Look for containers that your recipient can use again. Consider using glass containers with lids or a bento box with all those compartments to hold each of your treats. A coffee mug stuffed with biscotti or a new baking pan already filled with sweet bread will bring back memories each time your loved one reuses it. Even a pretty flowerpot lined with plastic wrap or aluminum foil can be filled with goodies. Be imaginative and try not to buy cheap plastic crap that will end up in a landfill when the cookies are gone.

Include recipe cards printed on pretty paper so your friends can make any of their gifts over again and explain how to use anything that might not be self explanatory (like what the heck do you serve lemon rosemary butter on).

When it comes to actually making the food, use all organic ingredients and fair trade and local products when they are available. It’s like giving two gifts that way. One goes to the receiver and one goes to the earth and the people who grow your food.

Go the extra mile in making everything look beautiful. Don’t just make one kind of truffle, make four or five so they look strikingly delicious when the box is opened. Carve designs in the top of flavored butters. Make the cookies just a bit fancier by drizzling chocolate on them or rolling refrigerator cookies in nuts before slicing them. You get the idea (and if you don’t here are a few recipes to get you started). But most of all have fun and lick all the bowls!

Chocolate Truffles
8 oz Bittersweet Chocolate
1 ¼ oz. Butter
4 oz Heavy Cream
¾ oz. liqueur of choice (optional)

Finely chop chocolate and place in a heat proof bowl. Cut butter into small pieces and add to bowl. Heat cream to just boiling and pour over chocolate. Stir until chocolate and butter are completely melted and mixture is smooth. Add optional liqueur. Cover tightly with plastic wrap and refrigerate. When mixture is firm but not hard, form into small balls using a small scoop, a teaspoon or your hands (work quickly so the chocolate doesn’t melt, this is the messiest method). Refrigerate again for 10 min. and roll into smooth balls. Chill again then roll in any of the following toppings:

4 oz. shaved bittersweet chocolate
2/3 c. finely chopped nuts
4 oz. toasted coconut
Cocoa Powder
or, for the truly daring, 22 carat gold dust

Makes 2-3 dozen truffles that will keep refrigerated for 1 week. Bring to room temp before serving. To extend the shelf life, dip truffles in tempered chocolate instead of rolling in toppings.

Coconut Marshmallows
5 cups toasted unsweetened coconut
½ c powdered sugar
2T + 2 ½ t. unflavored gelatin
½ c cold water
2 c sugar
½ c light corn syrup
½ hot water (about 115 F)
¼ t salt
2 large egg whites
¾ t coconut extract

Mix coconut and powdered sugar. Grease a 13x9x2” rectangular pan and sprinkle sides and bottom with 1 ½ cups of coconut mixture.
In the bowl of a standing mixer (you can make these with a powerful hand mixer but it’s hard on them, a standing mixer is best) sprinkle gelatin over cold water and set aside.
In a heavy 3-quart saucepan, cook sugar, corn syrup, hot water and salt over low heat and stir until sugar dissolves. Raise heat to medium and boil without stirring until an instant read or candy thermometer reads 240 F (this is a very important temperature, don’t quit early or you will only have a very sweet sauce. It takes at least 12 minutes) Carefully and immediately, pour sugar mixture over the gelatin and mix with the whisk attachment on low speed for 30 seconds then on high speed until tripled in bulk, white and fluffy and marshmallow-like. While sugar mixture is whipping, use a hand mixer to beat egg whites to soft peaks. Beat egg whites and extract into marshmallow mixture until just combined.
Pour mixture into prepared pan and sprinkle another 1 ½ c. coconut mixture on top, pressing down gently to make sure it sticks. Chill marshmallows at least 3 hours.
Invert pan onto cutting board and pry out marshmallows. Cut into squares and coat them in remaining coconut.
You can make plain marshmallows by substituting vanilla extract for the coconut and coating the pan and the marshmallows in powdered sugar and cornstarch. You can make other flavors as well. Try substituting half the coconut extract with almond extract and adding finely chopping toasted almonds to the coconut coating. You can add natural food coloring and blend it in completely or leave it partially blended to add a multicolored look.

Gravlax (salt and sugar cured salmon)

2 lb fresh wild caught salmon filet, skin on, halved lengthwise
2 T aquavit or an anise flavored liquor
½ c kosher salt
1/3 c organic sugar
2 T cracked, not ground, peppercorns (I use a Ziploc bag and a hammer)
zest of 1 lemon
1 t crushed fennel seeds
4 oz or more fresh dill

Mix the salt, sugar, pepper, lemon zest and fennel seeds together in a small bowl. Remove any bones from the salmon fillet. Line a baking dish large enough to contain the salmon with plastic wrap. Place the salmon skin-side down in the dish and sprinkle with the liquor. Rub the skinless side of the salmon with half of the salt mixture. Center one of the halves of the salmon on the plate and cover with the dill. Top with the other half of the salmon. Cover the top with the remaining salt mixture.
Seal up this salmon sandwich in the plastic wrap. Place a plate on top of the sandwich and add at least a pound of weight on top of the plate. Place in the refrigerator for at least 24 hrs and up to 3 days, turning the package over every 12 hours.
The gravlax is done when the flesh has lost it’s translucency and is somewhat firmer to the touch. Wash off the remaining salt, sugar and dill and pat dry.
Thinly sliced on the bias and remove the skin. Serve on pumpernickel or rye with lemon, capers and creme fraiche.

An Ill Wind

2011-12-05T20:36:00.000-08:00

Word of Mouth
by Vicki Reich

We were at dinner the other night with friends when one of the men, aged 28, belched. He immediately apologized (with a bit of a devilish grin on his face). He then asked if it was true that in some cultures burping after a meal was a sign of respect to the chef, or if it was just a fantasy of boys from age 6 to 60?

A long discussion ensued but with no definitive answer. I, of course, needed to find out if it was indeed true that some countries out there aren’t as prudish about their bodily functions as we are. When I got home, I looked it up on the Web.

As I guessed, there wasn’t really any reliable answer to be found. There was some indication that chefs in China appreciate small polite burps. Maybe the Inuit people in Canada think a good belch is a compliment. And it’s possible that some people in the Middle East and India won’t be fazed by your ructus. Mostly, I found lots of people out there wishing everyone could prize their burps as much as those fantasy chefs.

Burping and farting (we might as well bring that other “gas” into play) were not always eschewed in polite company. There are lots of historical references to both. Chaucer and Shakespeare enjoyed making their audiences laugh with burp and fart jokes, and these were not 8-year-old boys on the playground jokes. These were grand literary burp and fart jokes. I can imagine the Middle Ages dining halls were full of “wind”.

Whatever your take on the politeness or impoliteness of passing gas at the dinner table, it’s because we’re at the dinner table that it happens. Burping and farting have two separate causes but they are both food and beverage derived.

Burping is caused when air is swallowed along with your food or drink. It also happens when the carbon dioxide trapped in your carbonated beverage needs to escape.

Flatulence is a more complex process. Some of it comes from the same process as burping; it’s air swallowed with our food. Joining this swallowed air is gas produced from the digestion of the food itself. Food that is hard to digest or that passes partially digested from the stomach and small intestine to the lower intestines meets up with yeasts and bacteria in the large intestine. The yeasts and bacteria ferment rather than digest this food and give off gas as a byproduct (kind of like how beer gets carbonated by the byproduct of the yeast in it, but not nearly as appetizing).

There are several foods that are notoriously hard to digest and therefore excellent gas producers. The best known is, of course, beans (the magical fruit). It is the raffinose, an oligosaccharide, in the beans that are the culprit here. Our bodies have a hard time breaking down these complex carbohydrates so the bacteria in our lower intestines get to feast on the undigested remains. Cruciferous vegetables also contain large amounts of raffinose and may cause you to toot. Jerusalem artichokes can be blamed on an occasional ill wind, but in their case it is the complex carb inulin that our bodies can’t digest.

Other foods that can cause a bit of bloat include: cheese and milk, especially if you are lactose intolerant and lack the enzyme to break down the lactose before it hits your colon; onions, garlic and other members of the allium family; and fiber-rich foods.

All this gas isn’t something to be embarrassed about; we all produce, on average, a quart of gas a day. However, you can work on eliminating some of it by increasing the intestinal flora that does all the digesting in the small intestine. Taking probiotics and adding live culture yogurts to your diet can accomplish this. Digestive enzymes also help your body break down those pesky complex carbohydrates.

However, there is always fun to be had with all that extra gas (in the company of close friends or alone, please). You could try to unseat the current Guinness Book of World Records holder for the loudest belch, Paul Hunn, whose loudest burp was 109 db (about as loud as a car horn). Elisa Cagnoni isn’t far behind with 107db for the women’s title.

You could also spend a day seeing just how much gas you could produce like author Stefan Gates who, in his book The Gastronaut, spent the day eating as many foods that made him fart as he could and lived to tell about it.

Or you could just politely burp behind your hand at your next dinner engagement and hope your host is one of those mythical creatures who believe it’s a compliment.

Eggplant Parmesan
Serves 4

My dad would always exclaim that we were “having gas” for dinner whenever my mom served her delicious eggplant parmesan. It never had the same effect on me. None of the main ingredients appear on any of the gas producing food lists I came across so I thought it would be safe to share the recipe with you.

2 large eggplants
2 tbls olive oil

1 cup Italian herb flavored breadcrumbs (I make my own but storebought works fine)
1-2 egg
1 can tomato paste
1 tsp dried oregano
½ tsp dried basil
¼ tsp dried thyme
salt and pepper to taste
1 lb part skim mozzarella

Preheat oven to 400°F.

Slice the eggplant into ¼- ½ inch slices. Place the breadcrumbs on a plate. On a separate plate, scramble one egg. Dip each slice of eggplant into the egg, coating on both sides, then into the breadcrumbs. Place the slices in a skillet with the olive oil that has been heated to medium high and brown the slices on each side. You will have to work in batches and may need to use another egg and more oil.

Place the browned eggplant on a baking sheet. Thinly slice the cheese. In a medium bowl, combine the tomato paste, herbs, salt and pepper. Spread a spoonful of the tomato mixture on each slice of eggplant. Top each eggplant slice with a slice or two of mozzarella. Bake for 20 minutes or until the cheese is melted and slightly browned. Serve immediately.

Thanks

2011-11-22T20:06:00.000-08:00

(This is a revised edition of an article I wrote 3 years ago. By apologies to my readers who have been with me that long, all two of you)

It’s the Thanksgiving season and I’ve been thinking about all the things I’m thankful for. The list is long and includes many food-related items. I thought I’d share at least some of the foodie thoughts with you instead of yet another recipe for stuffing and pumpkin pie. Here they are, in no particular order:

I’m thankful to my mom and dad for instilling in me a passion for good food. Sitting down to eat a home-cooked meal almost every night of my childhood and adolescence has had a profound effect on my relationship to food (and people). Helping both my parents in the kitchen made me the cook I am today. Being taken to fancy restaurants from a young age gave me an appreciation for the creative possibilities inherent in food (and fairly good table manners). All of these things have made cooking a life-long pleasure rather than a chore. Thanks Mom!

I’m thankful for local farmers. If I had to eat only foods trucked from thousands of miles away all year long, my palate would be suffering and my knowledge about the varieties of produce and meats available would be stunted. All the farmers who work so hard to provide us with fresh local fare at the farmer’s market are my heroes. Thanks Emily, Alicia, Suzanne, Mimi, Marlene and Gordon, Diane and Tom, Kevin and Anita, Carrie and Nate, Luana, Mitch, and Vern.

I’m thankful for huckleberries. There is no other fruit that you must hike out into the wilderness to obtain. Being able to get fresh air, enjoy the views, and come back with the proud badge of purple fingers plus have the makings for the most delectable pies makes huckleberries a miraculous food.

I’m thankful for garlic. What other food is so good for you and so versatile at the same time. So many foods would be lacking is not for garlic: pasta sauce, pizza, mashed potatoes, garlic bread, stir fry, ice cream (just kidding).

I’m thankful for fermentation and all the good things that come from it: alcohol in all its forms, pickles, yogurt, vinegar, chocolate, sourdough, sour cream, olives, kim chi. What would life be like without all these things?

I’m thankful for cumin. I know it’s weird to pick just one spice out of so many good choices but there’s something about cumin. It’s my go-to spice. If a dish is lacking something, a dash of cumin will often fix it. Perhaps it’s the unusual aroma from the chemical cuminaldehyde found only in cumin that makes me thankful it’s in my spice cabinet.

I’m thankful for coconut. Like cumin, coconut makes everything better. Coconut has the added benefit of making both sweet and savory dishes better. I have a hard time not putting coconut in every cookie and muffin I make and I can never turn down coconut curry if it’s on the menu. Coconut macaroons have saved me from a bad day more times than I can remember.

I’m thankful for my Global knives and Microplane graters. These are the tools I use everyday and they never fail to amaze me with their performance. My knives feel like an extension of my hand and stay sharp forever (well, not quite forever but for a long time). I’ve had them for years and they still look and perform like new. It’s always a pleasure to pick one out from the knife rack. The graters (yes, I have one of every grit) make quick work of everything from perfectly zesting only the peel of a lemon (no pith need be removed when using a Microplane) to turning Parmesan into a pile of fluff that instantly melts into whatever you put it in. Cooking wouldn’t be as much fun without them.

I’m thankful for corn (which is the most appropriate thing to be thankful for this season) in all its natural forms (I am not the least bit thankful for high fructose corn syrup or GMO corn). The list of delicious dishes made from corn seems endless: fresh corn on the cob, hot cornbread drizzled with honey, cheesy polenta, handmade tortillas, pecan pie and marshmallows (both completely dependent on corn syrup), hominy, chowder, and most importantly, popcorn. My food life would be bereft without it.

I’m thankful for my bike. I know it’s not a food but riding it allows me to burn calories in a beautiful setting so I can eat more good food and still stay reasonably healthy.

I’m thankful for cheese. I think I could live on it alone although it goes so well with bread and that it leads me to my next item.

I’m thankful for home-baked bread right out of the oven. The fact that you can combine flour, water and yeast and get something so delicious never ceases to amaze me. The variations seem endless, and when paired with all the different cheeses, the flavor combinations could keep me happy forever.

I’m thankful for chocolate. I know I mentioned it above but it deserves two billings. The way the dry crispness of chocolate transforms into creamy goodness in your mouth fascinates me. Each tiny square explodes with more complex flavors than any other food and satisfies my sweet tooth every time.

Lastly, I’m thankful that I have enough. I have enough money to afford three nutritious meals every day, while so many people in the world can barely afford one (and I have a bit left over to help those in need). I have enough land and sunshine to grow some of my own food. I have enough knowledge to transform simple foods into delicious meals. And I have enough friends and family to share in the bounty of my kitchen.

Happy Thankful Thanksgiving

Here are two recipes I’m thankful for. They contain as many of the above-mentioned foods as I could reasonable combine.

Tipsy Brownies
Makes 1 to 8 servings depending on how much willpower you have

2 oz. unsweetened chocolate
8 T salted butter
1 c sugar
2 eggs
¼ c Canadian whiskey
½ c + 1 T. flour
½ c unsweetened shredded coconut
½ t vanilla extract

Preheat oven to 350 F. Grease an 8x8 baking pan.
Melt chocolate and butter in a heavy bottomed sauce pan until just melted. Stir in sugar then beat in eggs. Beat in whiskey and vanilla. Gently stir in flour and coconut until just combined. Pour into prepared pan and bake for 20-25 min, erring on the side of underbaked for a chewy, fudge-like consistence. Cool before cutting if you can.

Gruyere Cumin Polenta
Serves 4

4 c. water
1 t salt plus more to taste
1 c. polenta
1 t. cumin seed
1 T butter
½ c. grated gruyere cheese
Fresh ground pepper to taste

Boil water in a heavy medium-sized saucepan. Add the salt and turn the heat down to medium. Slowly pour the polenta into the water while whisking constantly. Turn the heat to low. Whisk once a minute for 5 minutes. Change to a wooden spoon and continue to stir every minute or so until the mixture thickens, about 30 minutes.
Meanwhile in a dry frying pan, heat the cumin seeds over medium-high heat until they are fragrant. Transfer to a plate to cool. When they are cool, grind them in a mortar or in an herb grinder.
When the polenta is as thick as you’d like it, turn off the heat and add the butter, cheese and cumin. Season to taste with salt and pepper and serve immediately

A light at the End of the Cornfield?

2011-10-26T07:01:00.000-07:00

Is it just me or has everyone else noticed that GMOs have been in the news a bunch lately? Maybe it’s because October is Non-GMO Month or maybe it’s because it’s a subject near and dear to my heart and I tend to notice it more. Whatever the cause, I think it’s a good thing.
Recent polls are showing that people know what GMOs are and want them labeled. A few years ago, similar polls showed that people had no idea what a GMO was or that GMOs were in most of the processed foods they were eating.

Just in case you don’t have a clue what I’m talking about, let me quickly explain. GMOs or Genetically Modified Organisms (also known as Genetically Engineered (GE) food) are foods that have been engineered in a lab by inserting foreign genes into a particular crop to get certain traits that can’t be bred into them the traditional way. These foreign genes come from other species or from viruses and bacteria.

The science of inserting the gene is not exact and the outcome of this mutation cannot be exactly predicted. So far the only GE food (that we know of) to cause acute symptoms in humans is Starlink corn (it was never approved for human consumption but got into our food stream anyway). However, there are no long-term human studies of the chronic effects these engineered foods might have on us (the cynic in me says we are all that long term study). The companies producing GE foods conduct all of the research that the FDA uses to determine if these frankenfoods are safe; no third party scientists test these findings.

These companies (Monsanto being the biggest and baddest of them all) claim that GE foods are better for us and will feed our hungry planet. So far, the commercially available genetically modified crops have been modified for one of two reasons, either they can tolerate massive doses of an herbicide that (coincidentally) the same company makes, and/or every cell of the food contains a pesticide. Neither of these modifications has been shown to increase human health or crop production levels over the long term; only corporate profits. I could go on but I want to get to the good stuff. There is tons more information like this on-line if you want to learn more about GMOs and why you want to avoid eating them.

By now you can tell I’m not a fan of GMOs and would love to know if they are in the food I’m eating. There seems to be a rising tide of people who feel the same way, but before I get to all the good news I’ve seen about GMOs I need to tell you a bit of the bad news.

The FDA is poised to approve GE Salmon. The company that created this frankenfish is close to bankruptcy but the USDA just gave them a $500,000 research grant. I smell something fishy.

Monsanto plans to begin selling seed for sweet corn this fall. This would be the first GE food eaten “straight up”. Almost all other GMOs are made into processed food or fed to livestock, which we then eat. The corn will be both resistant to Round Up and have Bt toxin in every cell. Considering a recent study found Bt toxin in the maternal and fetal blood of 93% of the samples tested (a place Monsanto swore it could never end up) and that that level was just from eating the smaller amounts of GMOs in processed foods, I wonder what eating a whole ear of corn in which every cell contains the toxin will do to us? Since it won’t be labeled, I’ll stick to organic fresh corn and not bother to find out.

And now the good news:

Locally, Winter Ridge celebrated Non-GMO month by highlighting Non-GMO Verified products and by donating 5% of their sales on Oct 19th to the Non-GMO Project (full disclosure: I work there). The most exciting thing about the donation day was that customers were asked to round up their purchases to increase the donation. An unscientific poll showed that about 80% of customers donated. That means even in little old Sandpoint people know they don’t want GMOs in their food.

Over a thousand stores participated in Non-GMO Month this year and over 3000 items are now non-GMO verified. Non-GMO food is the fastest growing category in natural foods today, with a 24% increase this year.

There are other movements gathering steam out there to push for labeling of GE foods. Just Label It, which is a group partnered with hundreds of like-minded organizations from concerned parents to health care professional to businesses, submitted a legal petition to the FDA calling for the mandatory labeling of GE foods. You can sign the petition on their website.

The Right To Know March traveled over 300 miles starting October 1st in New York and ending October 16th in front of the White House to demand the labeling of GMOs and to bring awareness of the issue to the public

Lastly, the Occupy Wall St. movement is bringing new light to the incredible amount of influence corporations have over our government. The government’s continued support of GMOs, when a recent poll showed that 93% of those surveyed wanted mandatory labeling, is a perfect example of the corporate takeover of our government. The FDA and the USDA have long been a revolving door for biotech industry execs who go between working at Monsanto and then for the government and then back to Monsanto. Maybe if people get fed up enough, we can kick the bums out.

I’m a hopeful kind of person and all this good news makes me think that someday soon this country will have mandatory labeling laws like the 40+ other countries that already do (obviously it’s not impossible). Until then, I will continue to support the companies that go to the extra effort to get non-GMO verified, eat organic, and try to avoid processed foods. And I’ll keep signing those petitions!

Celebrating Choice this October

2011-09-28T07:14:00.000-07:00

October is Non-GMO month. Sponsored by The Non-GMO Project, Non-GMO Month was created to raise awareness of the proliferation of genetically modified organisms in our food supply and to offer an alternative to eating them. We should all be celebrating.

I’m sure my regular readers know all about GMO foods (I write about it at least once a year) but there are many people who are still unaware that this technology exists and that they are definitely consuming it (whether they want to or not). Loyal readers, bear with me while I start off with an explanation of what GMOs are and why you might not want to eat them.

GMOs (Genetically Modified Organisms, also known as Genetically Engineered (GE) foods) are foods that have been bred, not in the age-old way of crossbreeding the same species to get better traits, but by inserting genes from a completely different species into a plant or animal to, hopefully, get a new trait.

Proponents of genetic engineering will tell you that these new foods, which could never occur naturally, are perfectly safe to eat, won’t cause any environmental damage. and are the only way to feed the 7 billion people now living on the planet.

The companies who created these Frankenfoods (mostly Monsanto, DuPont, Syngenta) conducted the safety studies, so, of course, the tests show there is no harm in planting or eating GE foods.

Under industry pressure, laws were passed in the 90s that allow GE food to quickly enter the marketplace if they are found to be “substantially equivalent” to their non-genetically engineered cousin. However, since gene splicing is not an exact science and the substantially equivalent test only looks for known components of the foods, this way of evaluating the safety of these novel foods is flawed. New toxins could be created and we wouldn’t know from the substantial equivalency test. Only if the new toxins were allergenic (like in the case of Starlink corn) would we know right away. Some toxins could take generations of eating GMOs to discover, as some of the new testing on rats and mice is showing. Strangely enough, when it comes time for the biotech companies to patent their new foods, they claim that they are completely novel.

Biotech companies have touted that GMOs will reduce herbicide and pesticide use and increase yields, thus causing less environmental harm and putting more money in farmers’ pockets. Recent reports of superbugs that have developed immunity to pesticides and super weeds that can withstand heavy doses of herbicide cast doubt on these claims. Studies also show that the money being made on these crops is ending up in the seed companies’ pocket, not the farmer’s.

The majority of genetically engineered plants on the market either have the Bt bacteria (Bacillus thuringiensis, a naturally occurring soil bacteria that is used as a pesticide) inserted into every cell of the plant or they have one of their genes reengineered to tolerate specific herbicides. None of the genetically engineered plants on the market today are designed to increase nutrition value and early claims of increased yields that would feed the world are not coming true. Scientists are also starting to discover Bt in the human digestive track, a place biotech companies said it would never end up. What its effects are, we don’t know.

If you are still with me, you might be wondering if 90% of the soy, 85% of the corn, 90% of the cotton, 90% of the canola, 95% of the sugar beets grown, and soon a huge percentage of alfalfa, in the US are genetically engineered why we can’t tell if we are eating them and why so many people believe they never have (if you are one of those people, I hate to burst your bubble, but if you’ve eaten any processed food or any conventionally raised animals in the last ten years, you’ve eaten GMOs)

Although at least 40 other countries require GMO foods to be labeled, the United States does not. Up until now, the only way to try and avoid eating GMOs was to eat only organic, especially if the products contained any known genetically engineer ingredients (i.e. corn, soy, cottonseed, sugar beet, alfalfa, squash, papaya, milk, and now sweet corn). However, eating organic is not a sure fire way to avoid them. There is plenty of room for contamination and most processed organic foods contain some non-organic ingredients. And those non-organic ingredients are the ones most likely to contain GMOs.

That’s where the Non-GMO Project comes in. The Non-GMO Project is a non-profit, third party certifier that tests and verifies products are substantially (more than 99.1%) free of genetically modified organisms. If you’re like me and you’re not convinced that GMOs are safe and want to be able to decide for yourself if you want to eat them or not, the Non-GMO verified label is the only way to be sure.

Last October was the first time Non-GMO month was celebrated. At the time, there were about 1000 products certified. This year there are over 3000 and many of them now bear the non-GMO Verified label on the package. There are thousands more products that are enrolled and waiting for testing results. If we buy only non-GMO verified products in October, we will send a strong message that we want to know what’s in our food and we’re willing to pay for it.
Maybe then, food producers and government officials will start listen to consumers (rather than Monsanto execs) and traditionally bred crops will once again be the norm. Until then, I’m looking for that label.

We All Scream!

2011-07-18T22:09:00.000-07:00

It’s hot out today, an unusual thing for this summer in North Idaho. There is a bit of a breeze and, in the shade, it’s rather pleasant; pleasant enough to sit on the deck with my laptop and write about ice cream.

Ice cream is a magically food. Just the thought of it elicits wonderful memories of summer, fun, and relaxation. Ice cream can lift your spirits when you’re feeling bad or be the crowning jewel on a fantastic day. It has the ability to cool off hot summer days and warm up a cold winter night. And it does it all with just a few simple ingredients.

You only really need heavy cream, sugar and milk to make ice cream (although that would be quite boring). The cream lends fat to the mixture, which is most of what gives ice cream its creamy texture; but frozen cream by itself is rock hard. Adding sugar makes the frozen cream softer; but it lowers the freezing point of the mixture below the freezing point of water, making it impossible to freeze with just ice. Milk dilutes the milk-fat in the cream and adds water to the concoction, which allows more ice crystals to form while the cream is freezing. These ice crystals give the ice cream its solidity; but, if not frozen at the right speed and with the right agitation, can turn nirvana into gritty disappointment.

Obviously, ice cream isn’t as simple as it seems; that may be why it took centuries to perfect it. The first frozen desserts were made of ice mixed with fruit or fruit juice (kind of like the OJ snow cones my brother and I loved to make the first day it snowed). By the 13th century, Arabs had not only figured out how to incorporate milk as the main ingredient in their frozen treats but they also discovered that adding salt to ice lowered the freezing temperature of water. If water freezes at a lower temperature and you put that super cooled water in contact with a cream and sugar solution, which needs to be super cold to freeze, you discover ice cream.

During the following centuries, the French and Italians got hold of this wonderful new treat and took it to new heights. The French added egg yolks to create a silkier texture while reducing the amount of milk-fat. (They did have a version that negated the savings of milk-fat and replaced it with egg fat; glace au beurre (ice butter) was made with 20 yolks per pint of cream! )

The Italians were more restrained with their egg use but still use some to create gelato. Gelato has a lower milk-fat content but higher sugar content than ice cream. The added sugar acts like an anti-freeze so gelato doesn’t get as hard as ice cream. And gelato is not churned vigorously. Without the extra air that is incorporated during churning, gelato ends up denser.

With all these advances there were still hurdles to leap before just anyone could have ice cream whenever they wanted. Even if you know that stirring a cream and sugar mixture in a salt and ice bath gives you ice cream, you still need ice. And, before refrigeration, you needed a lot of resources to have access to ice in the middle of summer. Nero had a whole legion of slaves to climb the nearest mountain and gather snow. If you didn’t have mountains nearby, you had to be landed gentry like George Washington or Thomas Jefferson (who were both known to favor the sweet treat, as was Dolly Madison, of course) with plenty of room for icehouses to store ice harvested in winter so you could churn up a batch in the heat of the summer.

The mid 1800s saw the invention of the two devices that would put ice cream on every spoon: the hand cranked ice cream maker and refrigeration. The ice cream maker made it easy to mix up large batches of ice cream with the right consistency. Refrigeration made ice affordable and available year round.

Once these two inventions were in place, industrial production took over and ice cream took a downward spiral for a while. Powdered milk replaced fresh milk to make ice cream lower fat and cheaper. Stabilizers preserved the smooth consistence for long periods of time in freezers with inconsistent temperatures. Artificial colors and flavors made for cheaper but flashier products. And corn syrup replaced sugar to make ice cream thicker (and, of course, cheaper).

Luckily, in the 1980s companies like Ben and Jerry’s and Haagen-Daz rediscovered real ice cream and we now have lots of premium and super-premium ice cream to choose from.
But not one of the super premium ice creams or gelatos available today come close to fresh churned. And now that it’s finally hot out, there’s no excuse not to mix up a batch.

Raspberry Ice Cream
Makes 1 quart

Our raspberry bush is going to go crazy in the next week or so (we’ve already picked a quart and there are so many green berries yet to ripen it’s overwhelming). What better way to show off fresh summer fruit than a batch of home made ice cream?

3 c. raspberries, washed
½ c. sugar, plus more to taste
fresh squeezed lemon juice (optional)
1 ½ c. whole milk (preferably not ultra pasteurized)
1 ½ c. heavy cream (preferably not ultra pasteurized)

Sprinkle raspberries lightly with sugar. Taste for sweetness level. Add lemon juice if too sweet, more sugar if too tart. Mix together the ½ c sugar, milk and cream. Mix in the fruit if you want to have them well dispersed in the ice cream or wait until the milk mixture is partially frozen to keep large pieces of the berries intact.
Pre-chill the mixture (with or without the fruit) in the freezer in several small containers. Stir occasionally until the mixture reaches 30F. Place all of the mixture into an ice cream maker and churn constantly. The fast you churn, the more air you will incorporate. For a denser ice cream, churn at a steady pace. For a lighter more voluminous ice cream, give it some speed.
Fold in the raspberries (if you’ve reserved them) as the mixture becomes semi-solid.
Once churning becomes too difficult, harden the mixture in the freezer in several small pre-chilled containers (if you can wait that long!). I probably don’t need to tell you this, but eat it quickly. Fresh ice cream doesn’t store well.

The Chips and Salsa Salsa

2011-06-22T07:57:00.000-07:00

This article marks the beginning of my fifth year writing this column. Sometimes it seems like it wasn’t that long ago that I sent in my first article about buying local meat. Other times, especially when I’m having a hard time thinking up subject matter, it seems like it’s been forever.

Coming up with stuff that I think will interest my readers and will entertain me while I’m writing is not always easy. Occasionally, the ideas come weeks in advance, but sometimes I’m struggling with subject matter at the last minute. When my Aunt Marilyn wrote me an e-mail wondering if I’d ever considered writing about Chips and Salsa (she’d been scooping up mango salsa while reading a past article of mine) I jumped at the chance to make her happy while not having to come up with an idea for this article myself. This one’s for you, Mar.

Chips and Salsa is actually a much more complicated subject than I originally imagined. Either one of the pair could be the focus of an entire article. The debate could go on and on about what makes a good dipping chip or what kind of salsa is most appropriate to eat with said chip. I decided to lean more toward the salsa side of the equation in this article because it offers more room for creativity and culinary exploration but first a few words about the chips.

Tortilla chips are ubiquitous today. You can’t go anywhere food (or gas) is sold without running into some. There are chips in red, white and blue, with flavors as diverse as run-of-the-mill sea salt to are-you-really-going-to-dip-these-in-salsa chocolate. In the natural food world (with which I’m most familiar) there are probably 50 different manufacturers of chips and hundreds of different flavors. I’m guessing you can at least quadruple those numbers if you include conventional brands.

It’s amazing to think that as recently as the 1970’s the premier corn snack was a Frito, not a Dorito. There is something so supremely addicting about tortilla chips that has contributed to their fast rise to stardom. But not all chips are created equal when it comes to the perfect dipper.

Chips for serving with salsa should be firm yet crisp and crunchy. There’s nothing worse than sinking a chip into a bowl of chunky pico de gallo and having it snap in half before you can get a big scoop of spicy tomatoes out of the dish. Chips for dip shouldn’t be flat but they also shouldn’t have some artificial molded shape. There should be a nice organic curve to them so you can pick up and hold on to more salsa. And personally, I prefer plain chips with just a hint of salt in whatever colored corn best highlights my salsa, because, when you get right down to it, the chip is just the carrier; it’s the salsa where the flavors really shine.

Salsa is a form of sauce. Both words have their origins in the Latin word sal (salt), but salsa is distinguished from other forms of sauce in several ways. Salsas are almost always based on fresh fruits and/or vegetables. I’ve seen recipes for seafood or grain-based salsa, but these are clearly outliers. They usually have some spicy heat to them. The ingredients are usually finely chopped yet they can still be easily identified within the mixture. Each ingredient’s taste, texture and color are apparent in every bite. In sauces, all the ingredients meld together to form one flavor, texture and note. In salsas, it is many flavors and textures combining in harmony to form a beautiful chord of taste.

It’s figuring out the notes in that harmonious chord where the fun of salsa making begins.

There are some key things to think about when composing. Make sure you use the freshest ingredients available. Each ingredient is going to play a role so you don’t want any of them to be flat. They should all be fresh and lively. This includes any herbs you use. Save your dried herbs for something else (and don’t even think about using dried cilantro, they shouldn’t even be allowed to sell the stuff).

If possible, cut all the ingredients to the same small size. When you scoop up your salsa, you should get some of each ingredient and you should be able to identify each as well.

Think about color and texture as well as taste when composing a salsa. If you are using red tomatoes, pick a yellow pepper to go with it instead of a red one. In a bean salsa, add some finely chopped celery or carrot to add crunch to offset the smoothness of the beans.

Most importantly, you want to make sure you have enough taste notes to make up the harmonious chord of flavor that is salsa. If you think about different types of ingredients making up different notes, this isn’t too hard.

Spicy ingredients and aromatic herbs can be considered the high notes. These are the ones that really stand out and include chilies, cilantro, ginger, and cumin.

Acidic foods such as vinegars and citrus juices are the sharps. They help enliven the mixture and also help reduce the amount of salt and sugar needed to bring out the full flavor of the mix.

Bass notes include things like beans, tomatoes, or apples. These form the foundation of the salsa, giving it body and something for the other ingredients to play off of.

With these notes in mind you could compose quick little riffs with, say, mango, ginger, lime and cayenne or roasted tomatoes, cilantro, chilies, and lime juice. You could create a symphony with beans, onions, tomatoes, chilies, garlic, honey, pineapple and scallions. Or you can be totally avant garde with a mixture of smoked salmon, sun-dried tomatoes, fennel, black pepper, cayenne, and lemon juice.

Once you get in the groove of making salsas, you might not even need those chips anymore. Your salsas will become accompaniments to your main course and you can start eating them for breakfast, lunch and dinner. No more relegating them to just snack time; serve them with your eggs, use them as a sandwich spread or top your favorite meat with them.

Your mouth will sing.

Jon’s Secret Salsa

makes a big bowl of the stuff

¼ c lime juice

1 28 oz. can diced tomatoes, drained

1 15 oz. can black beans, drained and rinsed

½ c scallions, chopped

¼ c cilantro, chopped

1-2 T jalapenos, fresh or canned, chopped

1 clove garlic, chopped

1 medium avocado, diced

dash of your favorite Tequila

Combine all ingredients in a large bowl. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Let stand 30 minutes for best flavor (if you can wait that long)

Mango Strawberry Salsa

makes 3 cups

This is not really a chip dipping salsa (although maybe this is where those chocolate flavored tortilla chips would come in handy). Serve this as an appetizer, as an accompaniment to pork or even as a dessert, topped with some whipped cream or on top of ice cream.

1 pint strawberries, stemmed and sliced

1 mango, peeled and sliced

4 t balsamic vinegar

½ c fresh orange juice

1 T Cabernet or other full bodied red wine (use the good stuff)

1 t sugar

¼ t fresh ground pepper

In a large bowl, stir together the vinegar, orange juice, red wine, sugar and pepper until the sugar dissolves. Fold in the fruit. Let rest 20 minutes before serving. Eat it fresh. It won’t keep well.

It’s Cocktail Time

2011-06-07T21:17:00.000-07:00

All it takes is two sunny days in a row with temperatures in the 70s to start me dreaming about cocktails. Vodka and tonics in particular.

I know you can (and I do) drink cocktails all year long, but there is something special about sipping an ice-cold, refreshing beverage while laying out by the lake in the late afternoon after a hard day of yard work that a hot toddy just can’t touch.

The weather is not the only reason I’ve been daydreaming about cocktails. On a recent trip to Nelson, BC, Jon and I stumbled upon one of the most delicious concoctions I’d ever tasted. We were in the Library Bar at the Hume Hotel and the bartender was prepping some fresh mint. It smelled so wonderful that I immediately wanted a drink with mint in it, but what to have? The barman said they made a nice mojito or I could try a Koots Ginger Roots. He said it was made with gin, ginger, lime and, of course, mint. I was sold. It’s times like these I wish I had a higher alcohol tolerance because I could have drank these all night. As it was, I had two and enjoyed every sip.

Had I opted for the mojito (with rum as it’s base spirit) I would have partaken of the more historical form of the cocktail. It turns out that rum is the first American spirit and, without it, cocktails may never have been invented.

When Christopher Columbus introduced sugar cane to the New World, industrious colonists discovered how to use the molasses (a by-product of sugar production) for something tastier than molasses. Rum was born. But the British wanted a cut, so the 300-year tradition of taxing liquor began.

The colonists were so incensed by the taxes (there were three, the Molasses Act, the Sugar Act and the Stamp Act) that they founded the First Continental Congress and began the War of Independence (and you thought it was about that other beverage). Once the war was won, the US government realized there was a lot of money to be made on alcohol tax and continues to this day the idea King George started.

But rum alone does not make a cocktail. The earliest definition of a cocktail, published in 1806 in The Balance and Columbian Repository, was “a stimulating liquor, composed of spirits of any kind, sugar, water and bitters”.

It was the bitters that set cocktails apart from the plethora of drinks that came before it. I guess possets, popes, and purls were all missing that key ingredient, as were ratafias, shrubs, turnip wines, bishops, sacks, and flips (and here I thought some of the drink names today were strange).

Bitters are a New World discovery. Native Americans taught the colonists how use herbs and plants to flavor and add medicinal properties to beverages. In return, the colonists showed Native Americans how to build stills (probably not the best trade, but that’s fodder for a different story). Combining alcohol with different types of bitter herbs resulted in a plethora of different bitters.

Initially, bitters were considered medicine (in part to avoid the above mentioned taxes) and are still used today as digestifs, but their best use was discovered sometime in the late 1700s; bitters are great at enhancing the flavor of mixed drinks.

There are hundreds of different types of bitters out there today (no, Angostura, is not the only game in town, in fact, there’s been quite a bitters revival of late). Flavoring ingredients range from foods like artichokes and orange peel to herbs like gentian and wormwood. Nowadays, a well stocked bar is expected to have a wide selection of bitters as well as spirits.

Taking a look at my two (new) favorite summertime drinks, I realized that both of them were true cocktails. The vodka and tonic contains all four key components, even if three of them are found in the tonic water. The Koots keeps its four components separate.

Today’s cocktails don’t necessarily adhere to the classic definition. They are often missing any of the three ingredients besides spirits. You could argue that a vodka martini made with just vodka and an olive is not a true cocktail, although it is only missing the sugar, since the ice lends some water to the drink and the olive does offer some bitterness.

But why argue when there are so many fabulous sounding recipes to try? There’s not enough time to quibble when there’s mixing to be done and experimentation to try. The web is filled with cocktail ideas, recipes, and how-to guides, and yes, there’s even an app to help you figure out what drinks you can make with the ingredients you have on hand.

With summertime approaching and July 4th just around the corner, let’s be patriotic and make cocktails.

Gin Hume Mint
This is my attempt at recreating the drink we had at the Hume. It’s close but not quite it. But maybe it’s because we’d not sitting on the deck of the Library Bar while someone else serves it to us. It’s still dang tasty.

½ oz simple syrup or less depending on how sweet you like your drinks (see recipe below)
2 sprigs fresh mint, separated
juice of 1 lime plus a slice for garnish
1 t coarsely grated fresh ginger
1½ oz gin (I used our local Dry Fly)
Dash of bitters (I used Angostura because it’s all I had (I definitely need to remedy that))
Ice
Club soda

In a highball glass, muddle the simple syrup, leaves from one sprig mint, lime juice, and ginger. Add the gin and bitters and stir. Add one of the mint sprigs for garnish. Fill the glass with ice then top off with club soda. Stir again and serve.

Simple Syrup
1 part water
1 part sugar

In a jar with a tight fitting lid, add sugar and water. Screw on lid and shake until all the sugar is dissolved. This takes a few minutes but is still faster than heating up the mixture and waiting for it to cool. I usually make it in ½ cup batches (½ cup sugar, ½ c water) unless I’m throwing a party where I’ll be making lots of drinks. It will keep refrigerated for several weeks.

Homemade Junk Food with Ingredients You Can Pronounce

2011-05-08T21:10:00.000-07:00

My faithful readers may recall that I spend the last weekend of every March in a monastery with my spinning friends from Moscow. This year was no exception. Usually, I report back to you on any food related incidents that occur as soon as I return. However, this year I didn’t have time to write about my adventures when I got home.

Until now.

My girlfriends and I have been going to St Gertrude’s for retreat for six years now. We have a system down. We bring plenty of snacks to tide us over between meals with the Sisters. We bring plenty of wine to ensure juicy conversations and some whiskey for a change of pace if we tire of the wine. We bring more than enough yarn and fiber for a year’s worth of knitting and spinning. And we bring birthday cake for Laura.

Laura’s birthday doesn’t always fall exactly during retreat but it’s when we always celebrate it. Her birthday cakes have included flourless chocolate tortes and seven-layer cake. One year she got a cake with powdered sugar for decoration (spoiler and warning: this is not a good way to decorate birthday cake). I don’t remember what the cake was. I can only recall the cloud of sugar that flew off it as she blew out the candles (we still giggle about this, in fact, I can’t help giggling as I type).

This year she got junk food. Not just any kind of junk food, homemade junk food. Twinkies and Hostess Cupcakes to be specific, although I’m sure I can’t call them that, Hostess might sue me.

I’d wanted to make homemade Twinkies for years. I was inspired by Michael Pollan and his book “Food Rules”. One of his rules is “Eat all the junk food you want as long as you cook it yourself”, and Grist.org had published a recipe for organic Twinkies soon after his book came out. Considering the book came out two years ago, I’d been stewing over this recipe for quite some time. I just needed the right excuse to make them.

When my dear friend and fellow birthday cake baker, Rochelle, called to figure out what we were making Laura for her birthday this year, and suggested that she might like to make a Hostess Cupcake knock off, I had found my excuse. What could be better than an assortment of organic homemade junk food for a birthday celebration?

It was not until this point that I actually looked at the recipe.

There is a reason that Michael Pollan advocates only eating junk food you make yourself. It’s hard to make junk food. It’s not something you’d do everyday. You’d really have to crave a Twinkie and have a bunch of free time on your hands before you would endeavor to make them. You would not blindly eat them without a thought to what they contain or how they are made. You would have to plan.

And plan I did.

First, I had to construct some Twinkie pans. Somewhere in foodie-land there are pre-made Twinkie pans but I wasn’t planning on making Twinkies a part of my regular baking schedule so, rather than add another pan that I only used once to my collection, I made them out of aluminum foil.

This takes some time and practice. None of the sixteen little tin boats I made were the same size or shape but they would have to do.

Once I had my pans all lined up and ready to go, I had to figure out how to construct the Twinkies so I would have time to make them in my busy schedule and that they wouldn’t be stale or soggy when I got down to Cottonwood.

I decided to make the cream filling first. It turned out to be so delicious that I had to swat both my hand and my husband’s away from the bowl to make sure there’d be enough filling. I refrigerated it under lock and key for a day.

The following day (the day before I left) I made the sponge cake. These were relatively easy. They puffed up beautifully in the oven and looked vaguely like the real thing when they came out of the pan. They did shrink an alarming amount and I wasn’t sure how all that filling was going to fit. I needn’t have worried. Getting the filling in was half the fun.

Right before I headed south, I filled my pastry bag and went for it. Those shrunken cakes puffed back up when I squeezed the filling in. This did take some practice and I did have to lick a lot of filling off my hands as I got the hang of it, but it was all worth it.

As Rochelle and I presented our organic junk food to the oohs and aahs of our friends (confident in the fact that we could identify and pronounce every ingredient in them) I knew all the hard work was worth it. They tasted so much better than their shelf stable counterparts. We savored every bite. And then I began wondering if I could make pink Snoballs for next year.

Organic Twinkies
adopted from Grist.org
makes 6-8 cakes depending on the size of your homemade pans

Sponge Cake:
3 organic eggs, separated
1/3 c. organic sugar
1/3 c. organic unbleached flour
½ t baking powder
½ t organic vanilla extract

Cream Filling:
4 oz. Mascarpone cheese
1 vanilla bean
3 organic egg whites
2/3 c. organic sugar

Make 8 Twinkie shaped boats out of aluminum foil. Butter and flour the pans and set aside in a baking dish that they fit snuggly in.

Preheat the oven to 325 F.

Make the sponge cake:
Beat the 3 egg yolks on medium speed in a stand mixer. Add the 1/3 c of sugar slowly to the yolks and beat for 5 minutes or until the mixture is thick and light colored. In a separate bowl, beat the egg whites until they form medium soft peaks. Fold the egg whites into the egg yolk-sugar mixture. Mix the flour and baking powder together. Sift the flour mixture into the egg mixture and fold it in carefully to just incorporate. Fold in the vanilla extract.
Divide the batter among the Twinkie pans. They should be half full and, depending on how big you made them, you may only have enough batter for 6 or 7.
Bake the cakes until golden brown and a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean, about 20 minutes.
Remove from the oven and allow to cool for 5 minutes. Remove from the pans and let cool completely. Depending on how well you greased the pans you may need to run a sharp knife around the edge to loosen the cake. The cakes will deflate quite a bit as they cool
Meanwhile, make the cream filling:
Combine the cheese and the seeds scraped from the inside of the vanilla bean in a small bowl until smooth.
Combine the egg whites and sugar in the top of a double boiler. Whisk the mixture continuously over simmering water until it reaches 110 F, about 2-3 minutes.
Place the egg white mixture in a standing mixer and beat with a whisk attachment until it has doubled in volume, about 5-7 minutes. The mixture should be glossy and hold a soft peak. Add the cheese mixture and beat until just combined and smooth. Cover with plastic wrap and chill until ready to use.
To assemble:
Place the filling mixture into a pastry bag with a medium plain tip. Make three holes in the bottom of each cake using either a straw or skewer. The holes should go about half way into the cake. Be careful not to puncture the top.
Insert the pastry bag tip and squeeze filling into each hole. The cake will re-expand with the filling. If it is hard to squeeze the filling in, try making the holes slightly bigger or try moving the tip around until you find a void to fill.
Once the Twinkie is filled, turn it over and serve.

No Lenders for Me

2011-04-27T08:03:00.000-07:00

Jon and I recently returned from a trip to the East Coast, Atlantic City to be precise. We went to celebrate my cousin’s wedding. The wedding was delightful. Happy occasions with the whole family are always a treat. And it’s a good thing that it was such a blast since it completely took my mind off the fact that we had to spend two days on the East Coast.

I grew up in New Jersey so I’m no stranger to that right hand coast, but I left as soon as I could for many reason that I won’t go into here. Suffice it to say, the West Coast kicks the East Coast’s butt. However, there are things that the East Coast has that are not easy to find out here. Specifically, I’m talking about a decent bagel.

Yes, you might be able to buy bagels in just about any grocery store here, but they aren’t really bagels. I like to refer to them as buns with holes.

Real bagels are not airy and light. They are dense and chewy with a thick, shiny crust. Real bagels do not contain any form of fruit; no blueberries, raisins or cranberries. Real bagels are not big and fluffy. They are not made with whole grains or rye. They have a noticeable seam where the long, thin piece of dough is joined into a ring. The top of the crust can be covered in seeds, salt, onions, garlic or a combination of these or all of them, but never melted cheese. And they are definitely not a sandwich bread substitute. They should be eaten with cream cheese (butter is acceptable but looked down upon) and maybe some type of smoked fish. Capers, onions, and tomatoes may also be added but that’s where the allowable toppings end.

By now you are probably thinking I am just another East Coast snob, and you may be right (at least when it comes to bagels) but I feel I owe much of my early upbringing to this humble bread. In fact, without bagels, I may never have made it to adulthood.

You see, when I was just a babe, every Sunday my grandparents would bring bagels with all the fixings to my parents and exchange them for me. They would take me away for most of the day so Mom and Dad could have some down time. My parents soon learned to associate bagels with the peace and quiet of not having to deal with a difficult child (and I’ve been a difficult child since birth). As long as there were bagels in the house, even if I was there too, the bagels’ calming influence insured that I was in no danger of being kicked out or left on the curb to fend for myself. And the added benefit was there were always bagels in the house for me to eat.

I’m probably not the only one who owes my life to bagels. Although originally bagels were available only to the wealthy (since white wheat flour was a luxury in the 14th century), eventually they became know as peasant food and were sold in the streets, skewered on sticks or tied through with string. There were probably quite a few people who subsisted on bagels alone in the old days (and there probably still are people who choose to do so today) or made their living selling them.

Strangely enough, bagels were given as gifts to pregnant women so they could bite down on them when the contractions started. A good, chewy bagel may have been just the thing to pull a woman through a difficult birth.

Bagels are often considered a Jewish food, even though there is no evidence that Jews invented them. Poland seems to be the birthplace of the bagel and it was purportedly invented as Lenten bread. Jews were permitted to bake them at a time when only Christians were allowed to bake bread because bagels must be boiled before they are baked (and I guess boiling took away any cooties the anti-Semites of the time thought they might catch).

The long rise time required to make a true bagel also allowed Jews to have fresh bread at the end of Sabbath, during which they could do no work. If they mixed up a batch of dough Friday and let it rise in a cool place on Saturday, they could boil and bake the bagels quickly when Sabbath ended.

These two disparate influences made bagels quite popular with Eastern European Jews and when they came to New York in the late 1800s they brought bagels with them. Bagels thrived in New York for years until industrialized food production got to them and made them soft and puffy.

To understand what went wrong, you have to understand how a good bagel is made. First, you mix up a lean dough (one with less water than regular bread dough), which you let it rise in a cool place for at least 12 hours. Then you form it into a long thin snake that you join into a ring and let it rise again briefly. When it has risen, you boil the dough for a minute or two then bake it until it’s brown and crisp.

Industrial production figured out how to make bagels without the long rise time or the boiling, which makes it cheaper and faster to crank out lots of bagels. Modern bagels are steamed and then baked. Steaming makes the bagels puff up and doesn’t give them the thick chewy crust. That thick crust is the sure sign of a real bagel.

I’ve been living in the Northwest for over 20 years now. When I’m on the East Coast I try to eat at least one bagel a day, if not more, thinking this will somehow give me a reserve for when I head back West. I’ve smuggled dozens and dozens of bagels in the overhead compartment on flights back from my visits to New Jersey (this is only a problem if they are all onion bagels and the smell wafts out when the compartment is opened during flight). Unfortunately, they never lasted and I was left dreaming of bagels.

And then I discovered Bear and his bagels from Icehouse Pizzeria and Bakery in Hope. Bear makes real bagels. You can’t buy cinnamon raisin bagels from him but you can buy salt bagels. The bagels are chewy and dense and delicious and they are even better than some of the bagels I’ve had back east. Why it took me so long to figure this out I’m not sure, but I’m glad I did. I will schlep bagels no more.

Now if I could just find a local source of smoked sablefish.

The Whole Grain and Nothing but the Grain

2011-04-12T07:28:00.000-07:00

This is the trilling conclusion to last month’s article about grains.

I hope you all haven’t been holding your breath, waiting for the answer to the mystery I left you with a month ago. I really intended to let you in on the secret two weeks ago but I was called away to the Monastery in Cottonwood to have a glorious weekend with my friends and figured you could wait.

As you may recall, I left off my last article with a cliffhanger, the unanswered question of why, if it’s so unhealthy, do we refine much of the grains we eat. The answer is pretty straightforward, but lengthy, and I should have told you then but I had exceeded my word count. Plus I wanted to pique your interest so you would come back and read more of the interesting stuff I had learned about grains that definitely wasn’t going to fit in the previous article.

First, the reasons why we refine so much of the grains we eat:

Refined grains are prettier. Humans prefer their food white and not brown. The reason we still want our food white is not clear. Historically, white food was very expensive so only the rich could afford it and everyone else coveted it. White also symbolizes purity and I guess it’s easier to spot contaminants in white food than it is in brown food.

Refined grains cook faster. Removing the outer seed coat, whose purpose in life is to regulate the passage of water into the seed so that it germinates but doesn’t drown, makes the seed cook much faster. This is well illustrated in the cooking times of brown versus white rice; white rice takes half the time to cook.

Refining also extends the shelf life of grains. Most of the fats in grain are stored in the germ and aleurone layer (which I know you remember from last month is the layer just under the seed coat). Removing these reduces the risk that the fats will oxidize and become rancid, allowing for much longer storage times.

And lastly, refined grains are easier to chew and easier to digest. Maybe too easy. Refined grains are almost all starch. The vitamins, minerals, fiber and enzymes have been removed. During digestion, all this starch is converted to sugar, which quickly raises blood sugar levels and may contribute to increased risk of diabetes.

I’m not sure any of these reasons is good enough to make up for the lack of nutritional value in refined grains. You can always pretty up brown grains with bright colored vegetables. You can cut down on cooking time by planning ahead and soaking your grains overnight. Modern refrigeration takes care of storage issues. And you’re probably better off chewing your food longer and dealing with a bit of flatulence than eating a bunch of empty calories.

Besides, there are way more interesting whole grains than there are refined grains.

Take wheat for example.

There is the most ancient form called Einkorn. It has two chromosomes and has a flowing form of gluten that makes it sticky. It’s great for porridge but not so good for bread.

When Einkorn crossed with a wild goat grass about a million years ago, it led to various species of four chromosome wheat including Emmer (also known as Farro), and Durum. Durum is still one of the most important species of wheat and is used to make bread, bulgur, and couscous. If you want to eat local Durum wheat you could try Kamut, which is a registered name for a variety of Durum that originated in Egypt but was developed in Fort Benton, Montana.

Then about 8000 years ago, a four chromosome wheat crossed with goat grass again and yielded a bunch of six chromosome wheats that include modern bread wheats, and Spelt.

All of these varieties of wheat are available in their whole grain form (only bread wheat is readily available in a refined form).

If you think that’s a lot of different kinds of wheat, it’s nothing compared to the diversities in rice. There may be as many as 100,000 different varieties of rice in the world.

There are four major categories of rice: Indica, Japonica, Aromatic and Glutinous. Within these categories the size, shape and color range from tiny, thin, blond grains to fat, short black grains with pink, purple, red and green colors in between. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately, since we might not have time to try any other grains), we don’t have access to all 100,000 in the US but there is still a wide selection to choose from (I especially recommend trying forbidden black rice, it’s delicious and beautiful).

While corn, the last of the big three grains, does have lots of unrefined varieties, in this country we feed almost half of what we grow to animals (5.25 billion bushels in 2008 as compared to feeding only 325 million bushels to humans) and it’s mostly one variety.

I’ll just skip over corn and move on to the lesser known but no less delicious minor grains.

Amaranth, buckwheat, millet, quinoa, sorghum and teff are not widely eaten or available in the US. When they are available they are not refined and therefore can make an interesting addition to your whole grain repertoire.

My favorite of the bunch is quinoa, which cooks as fast as white rice and can be used anywhere you would use rice. It’s high in protein, cool looking, and quite tasty. All of them are worth trying and are a great way to get yourself out of a grain cooking rut.

I could go on and on about grains (and you may, at this point think I already have) but instead I’ll leave it to you to do more exploring and next month I’ll talk about making organic Twinkies instead.

Millet Patties
Makes 6-8 patties

If you've tried millet before and been disappointed, give these patties a try. They will change your mind. They did mine.

1 c. millet
3 T. olive oil, divided
2 c. water
1 T. minced garlic
¼ c. finely chopped red pepper
2 T. finely chopped green onion
¼ c. peanut butter
1 T. soy sauce
2-3 dashes of Brother Bru Bru (other hot sauces will suffice but the Brother is the best)
1 T. chopped pickled ginger

Heat a small saucepan with a tight fitting lid over medium-high heat. Add the millet and stir constantly until it is lightly toasted and fragrant. Add 1 teaspoon olive oil and the water. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat to low, add the chopped garlic, and cover. Simmer for 20 minutes until the millet is soft and somewhat creamy. Remove from heat and let cool slightly.

Place still warm millet in a bowl and add the peanut butter. Stir to combine. Add the pepper, green onion, soy sauce, hot sauce and pickled ginger.

Heat the remaining olive oil in a large frying pan over medium heat. Form the millet mixture into 3” patties, about ½” thick. Saute the patties, browning them well on both sides. Serve immediately.

Serve straight up or as a substitute for a burger patty or like falafel with a tangy sauce.

Pips and Particles

2011-03-15T21:29:00.000-07:00

This weekend, for the first time this year, it felt like spring might actually arrive. Two whole days of relative warmth and sunshine can convince the most frozen and winter weary among us. Even the daffodils are starting to poke their heads out of the ground in anticipation.

However, for me, the most conclusive evidence of all that spring might be near is that stores are starting to sell gardening seeds. Having worked in the retail world for almost 20 years now, I have this Pavlovian response when I see the UPS man bringing boxes of seeds into the store. My spirits lift, the color green flashes before my eyes and I have an overwhelming desire to make an appointment at the bike shop for a tune up.

It’s no wonder that the sight of seeds provokes such strong emotions. Civilization owes its existence to these tiny bundles of new life. It was at least 10,000 years ago when humans first discovered that they could save the seeds of wild plants over the winter then plant them in anywhere they chose.

This small discovery has led to amazing changes. Settlements developed when humans no longer needed to move around to find food, but instead needed to stay put to tend their crops. When one person could grow the food for many, it freed up time to create art and to fight battles. Writing and arithmetic were invented to deal with the accounting of this excess food. Animals were domesticated since it was now possible to feed them as well.

Unfortunately, all the changes weren’t positive. Wars were probably invented not long after agriculture, since now rulers could afford to feed their troops. New diseases sprang up from people living in close quarters. Diets were greatly simplified from the previous variety of the hunter-gather, which led to deficiency and poor health (something we’re still trying to overcome).

You probably remember a lot of this from high school history class, but have you ever stopped to think about what an incredible thing a seed is. Seeds are like miniature space ships for the next generation of a plant. Everything the plant needs to survive its journey from parent to adolescence is contained inside the seed coat: the embryo of the plant, a good-sized food supply, and protection from the elements and predators.

And lucky for us, some of these seeds are also tasty and nutritious. Grains, legumes, and nuts are the groups of seeds we eat the most.

And eat them we do. Seeds provide the bulk of calories for the 7 billion humans currently on the planet (and the cynic in me thinks that seeds, or more specifically agricultural, is probably the reason there are so damned many of us). Worldwide, we grow and consume over 600 metric tons per year of rice alone.

Of the three groups of edible seeds, grains (the seeds of grasses) play the most dominant role in our diet (and is really what I intended to talk about in this article before I got all distracted by history and space ships). Wheat, rice and corn form the bulk of the diets for most people on earth (in the States, we prefer to feed it all to animals first and then eat the animals but that’s a topic for a different article).

These three grains were also the first grains to be domesticated. Wheat was developed in the Fertile Crescent around the same time that rice was being developed in China; as long as 12,000 years ago. Corn is a relative newcomer to the domestic grass scene and first appears in South and Central America around 6,000 years ago (although there is still much controversy about the exact time and place of corn’s origin).

The structure of all grains is similar. There is the outside seed coat which is there to protect the embryo and regulate the amount of water allowed to pass inside the seed. It is the seed coat that is removed when grains are refined. This makes the grains whiter and quicker cooking, since water can now easily pass through the grain.

However, the layer below the seed coat, the aleurone layer, is also removed when grains are refined. This thin layer (only one to four cells thick) is where all the good stuff is. It’s high in oil, minerals, protein, vitamins, and flavor.

Below the aleurone layer is the bulk of the grain, the endosperm. This is the food storage area for the embryo. It is composed of mostly starch in a matrix of protein. The closer you get to the center of this mass, the more starch there is and the less protein. So the more refined a grain is, the less nutritional value it contains.

Last but not least is the embryo, or germ. The embryo is located close to the outer wall of the seed so it can easily emerge and start growing a new plant when the conditions are right. The germ is rich in oils, enzymes and flavor. But, alas, is also lost in refinement.

Refining grains has given us white bread and white rice. But it’s also given us the disease beriberi; the result of a diet that relies too heavily on refined rice, which lacks thiamine. Refining robs us of most of the fiber, oil and B vitamins in the whole grain and leaves us with mostly starch.

So why do we refine grains? That’s a good question. Stay tuned in two weeks to find out the answer.
To Be Continued…

Sprouted Wheat Berries

1/3 c Whole Wheat Berries
1-Quart Glass Jar
Cheesecloth or sprouting lid

Soak the wheat berries overnight in 1 quart of tepid water. In the morning, rinse the berries in tepid water and drain completely (save the soaking water for your plants, they’ll love you for it). Place the rinsed berries in the jar. To make draining and rinsing the seeds easier, place a piece of cheesecloth over the jar and secure with a rubber band or a metal ring. If you have a sprouting screen, you can use that as well. Place the jar in a dark place, like a cupboard or pantry.
Rinse and drain the seeds twice a day for two days. They should be sprouting by then. Place them in cold water and gently separate them. You will want to use them right away, since this is when they are at their nutritional peak. They can be stored in a tightly sealed container in the refrigerator for a couple of days.
You can eat them in salads or bake them into bread or throw them into a hot vegetable dish during the last moments of cooking. They are sweet and nurishing

This Little Piggy Went To Market

2011-02-15T21:05:00.000-08:00

Jon and I bought our first pig this year. Well, not a whole pig, just half of one (but it still took up much of our freezer). We bought it from local pig and bison farmers, Kevin and Anita Porter of Selkirk Bison Ranch. They pasture raise Tamworth pigs on their ranch in Elmira.

We’d been thinking about buying a pig for quite some time. Pork is a staple in our diet and it seemed silly to keep buying it one package at a time. Buying a whole pig would save us some money and I could experiment with making my own sausage and bacon.

When I talked to Wood’s Meat about how we wanted our pig processed, they were a bit surprised but unfazed by my request to have the belly left whole (for bacon), the shoulder just cut up and packaged in 2 pound blocks (for sausage) and all the fat saved (for rendering lard).

The night we brought our pig home from the processor, I just had to try making up a batch of sausage. It turns out that making sausage isn’t too difficult as long as you have a meat grinder. The shoulder is the perfect part of the pig to use. It naturally has the correct ratio of fat to meat that makes savory sausages.

My ancient Kitchen Aid, with its grinder attachment, made short work of the shoulder meat that Woods had cubed up for us. We were happily eating pasta with homemade sweet Italian sausage in less than an hour. It was just about the best sausage ever.

I attribute the sausage’s deliciousness to the pig. Tamworth is a rare breed of pig with its roots in England. There are thought to be less than 4000 of these tough but beautiful dark red animals left in the world. They were bred to be outdoors (not crammed into CAFOs, and thus their threatened status) and can withstand cold winters while their red skin protects them from sunburn in the summer. They are great foragers and the Porters have their pigs follow the bison to help rejuvenate the pasture. Most importantly, Tamworth pigs make great bacon.

Bacon isn’t the only reason humans have been keeping domesticated pigs for the last 12,000 years. Pigs provide a wide and diverse range of things to eat. Humans have figured out how to use everything from the ears and snout to the trotters (feet) and make it taste good. The blood is used to make sausage, the rendered fat yields one of the best shortenings for baking, the liver is prized for pates, and even the skin can be slow cooked into a succulent dish or fried up into crispy pork rinds. And that’s just the nasty bits. The hams, belly, tenderloin, and ribs offer varied flavors and preparations. When combined with salt and smoke, the taste can approach nirvana.

Sadly, most pigs in the U.S. are not raised the way our pig was. Most of the pork you can buy is raised in CAFOs where up to 700,000 hogs are raised in giant warehouses, the pigs packed together, their tails docked so they don’t bite them off, and fed a diet of corn and soy with a hefty dose of antibiotics to keep them from getting sick from their unnatural close confinement. Their waste is stored in enormous lagoons, where it can get into the water table or, in the case of a lagoon in North Carolina in 1995, release 25 million gallons of excrement into a nearby river, killing millions of fish. I can’t even imagine the smell.

CAFO pigs are not just unhealthy for the environment but they’re not that great for us either. Some of the antibiotics and growth hormones given to pigs raised on confinement farms get stored in their meat and fat and then gets passed on to us when we eat it. Plus pigs that eat an all grain diet have much higher levels of omega-6 fatty acids and very low levels of omega-3s. This distorted ratio has been linked to a variety of diseases including obesity, diabetes, inflammatory diseases, and cancer.

Grass-fed pigs, on the other hand, have a much lower ratio on omega-6 to omega-3. The total fat and the saturated fat levels in pasture-raised pork are lower and they have higher levels of antioxidants. Plus they just taste better.

We’ve been eating our grass-fed pig for over a month now and, while at first I thought it would take us a long time to eat it all, I’m now realizing that there are so many different recipes I’d like to try we might be in the market for another one soon. Next time it will be a whole pig (and maybe another freezer).

Fresh Garlic Sausage
Makes approximately 2 pounds

2 lbs pork shoulder, diced and very cold, with all visible sinew removed (there should be a 3:1 meat to fat ratio, if the meat is lean, add more fat)
.5 oz Kosher Salt
1 T minced garlic
2 t coarse ground black pepper
1 T red pepper flakes (optional)
1/3 cup good red wine (ice cold

Mix first five ingredients together in a large bowl. If you have time, refrigerate for up to 24 hours.
Place a mixing bowl into a larger bowl full of ice (if you are using a Kitchen Aid, use the mixing bowl from it). Grind the meat mixture into this bowl using the small die of a meat grinder. Make sure that the meat is coming out in distinct cylinders and that there is a distinction between the meat and fat. If the extrusion looks like pink mush, either the blades of the grinder are dull or there is sinew caught in the blade. Stop and check the blade before proceeding or the texture of the sausage may be ruined.
Once all of the meat is ground, add the wine and mix (using the paddle attachment of the Kitchen Aid or a study spoon) until all the wine is absorbed and the mixture is uniform and sticky looking. This should take about 2 minutes on medium speed and about ten minutes with a spoon.
If you have a sausage stuffer, you can stuff it into casing but I use this small batch for making pasta sauce or sausage patties. Make sure to cook the sausage gently and just to a 150F internal temperature. Overcooked fresh sausage is a sad thing.

Sushi Love American Style

2011-01-18T21:35:00.000-08:00

We rang in the New Year in grand style this year; we hosted a roll your own sushi party. We stuffed ourselves silly with little hand rolls (temaki) filled with everything from flying fish roe (tobiko) to soy sauce-and-mirin-braised lamb (for which I am pretty sure there is no Japanese word).

Sushi has been a favorite food of mine since the first time I tried it in land-locked St. Louis over twenty years ago. My friend, Adam, who introduced me to this incredible cuisine, was a sushi connoisseur (or at least I thought so at the ripe-old age of 20) and ordered for the table. Our first round included octopus (tako), squid (ika), and sea urchin (uni) with a raw quail egg. I think he was testing me to see how adventurous an eater I was. I ate every bite.

My friend disappeared from my life but sushi is still one of my favorite foods. If given a choice of cuisines, it’s always first on the list. I don’t think I’m alone. The fact that you can get sushi in Sandpoint and almost anywhere else in the US attests to its popularity.

The sushi we know and love today is a far cry from its beginnings in China in the 3rd century BC! Back then sushi, which translates to “sour tasting”, was a way to preserve fish. The fish was packed in rice and salt and left to ferment for long periods of time. The rice was then discarded and only the fish was eaten (and I’m guessing it was pretty sour by then).

Eventually this technique made its way to Japan where vinegar was added to the process and the rice was eaten as well as the fish. The addition of vinegar to the rice also made the fermentation process faster and it took only days instead of weeks or months for the sushi to be ready.

At some point in the late 1600s in Tokyo (then known as Edo) someone figured out how to make fast food sushi, where the fish was raw and the rice was cooked then seasoned with vinegar rather than fermented. The idea caught on quickly in cosmopolitan Edo, where the pursuit of pleasure was the fashion of the day. Sushi carts and stands popped up at sumo-wrestling matches, at the theatre, the baths and the brothels.

But fast food is not really an accurate description of sushi. Yes, the sushi chef might make it look quick and easy while you are sitting at the sushi bar but sushi chefs in Japan undergo a ten-year apprenticeship. They learn everything there is to know about fish and rice (not to mention nori, wasabi, ginger, and soy sauce) and spend three of the ten years just working on knife skills.

One of the most deceptively simple examples of nigiri sushi (those hand molded blocks of rice with a tasty morsel on top) is hen’s egg (tamago). It looks like a block of omelet but it is lighter, fluffier and tastier than any American omelet. Each sushi chef has their secret recipe, which often includes shrimp or fish broth, sugar and sake. The omelets are made in a special pan, in thin layers that are folded over one another. Good tamago, which is lightly brown on the outside but soft and supple on the inside, is time consuming to make and is considered a great way to tell how good the chef really is.

As in all Japanese cooking, the aesthetics of the food are at least as important as the taste. The fish is cut in just such a way and with just the right knife to reveal the beauty and texture of each part of the fish. Sushi is arranged in ways that mimic or call to mind natural settings. Nigiri is served in pairs, hoso-maki (thin nori wrapped sushi) is cut into six piece, and futo-maki (thick rolls) are cut into eight pieces.

But don’t let all of that tradition and complex knife skills deter you from making sushi at home. And don’t feel like you have to make it with raw fish, even though you can get good sushi grade fish in town (from Flying Fish, who also carries just about everything else you need for sushi), there are all kinds of things you can roll up in nori and rice.

Coming up with different fillings for your guests to roll is half the fun of having a roll your own sushi party (which, I found out while writing this article, is not just some American bastardization of the cuisine but something the Japanese invented). You can stick with the standards like cucumber, avocado, salmon and shrimp or you can go crazy and add ham and eggs or even bacon for a BLT roll. Make small amounts of different fillings and let your guests come up with their own combinations. Have some wasabi, different flavored sauces, and home made pickled ginger on hand as well.

However, the most important element for your sushi party is the rice. After all, sushi is about 80 percent rice so it better be good. The only bad sushi I’ve had has been because the rice was either flavorless or too wet or dry. Taking the time to make your sushi rice delicious will make anything you roll up in it divine.

The second half of the fun is, of course, eating all the great combinations that can be made with the ingredients you provide. But beware, they will probably all taste good and you’ll want to keep trying new ones until you are stuff. The nice thing about that is you don’t have to worry about dessert.

Sushi Rice (Sumeshi)
Makes about 4 cups

2 c. short grain sushi rice
3 c. cold water
3 T. rice vinegar
1 ½ T. sugar
1 t. salt

Place the rice in a fine mesh colander and run cold water over it while gently stirring the rice. When the water runs clear (about a minute) fan the rice up the sides of the colander set it aside to dry for 30 minutes.
Place the rice and water in a 2 quart saucepan with a tight fitting lid. Bring to a boil then reduce heat to medium for 5 minutes then down to very low for 15 minutes. Bring the heat back up to high for a minute until steam escapes the lid. Remove from heat and set aside to rest for 10 minutes.
Meanwhile heat the vinegar, sugar and salt together until the sugar and salt just dissolve.
Place the rice in a thin layer in a flat wooden bowl or glass tray that is slightly wetted. Slowly pour the vinegar mixture over the rice while folding it in and fanning it at the same time (it nice to have a third hand help at this point). Continue folding in the vinegar until it is well dispersed and the rice has cooled a bit. The individual grains should be coated and glossy. Use immediately or cover with a damp towel and use in the next hour or two. Sushi rice does not keep well and shouldn’t be made too far ahead of time.

It's Better with Butter

2011-01-16T11:34:00.000-08:00

Butter-just the word makes my mouth water. Visions of flaky piecrusts, fresh steamed vegetables glistening with that golden glaze, and shortbread melting in my mouth spring to mind when I think about it.
And butter is often on my mind during the holiday season. It’s hard to do without it. Sure, you can make cookies and cakes with oil or margarine but they won’t taste as good. You can construct sauces without it, but butter will enhance any of them. You can dip fresh baked bread in olive oil, but a pat of melting butter is so much better. And don’t even bother making caramel without this key ingredient.
Butter is an essential part of my winter cooking (I think all that fat helps keep me warm and happy through the cold, dark months). Our family used at least three pounds of the stuff to get us through Thanksgiving and I’m anticipating using at least that much making holiday gifts (the Nanaimo Bar recipe I’m making calls for over a pound!).
It is the chemical structure of butter that makes it so useful and delicious. Butter is a water-in-oil emulsion, the exact opposite of the cream it is made from, which is an oil-in-water emulsion. The fat crystals and globules throughout the structure make butter solid when refrigerated, soft at room temperatures, and meltingly delicious in your mouth or in your sauce pan. These three phases allow butter to serve the cook well.
Solid butter, when incorporated with flour in the correct way and at the correct temperature, can create pastries that are crumbly like scones, flakey like piecrusts, or laminar like puff pastry. Although butter is the more difficult of the fats used in pastry making, lard and vegetable shortening have higher melting points and lower moisture contents and are therefore less fussy to work with, it imparts that one-of-a-kind buttery flavor that no amount of fake-butter-flavored Crisco can reproduce.
Softened butter can be spread on bread, of course, but can also have flavorings kneaded into it. Incorporating stock, herbs, cheese or even seafood into softened butter creates a vehicle for flavor. The fat in the butter allows the added flavors to penetrate deep into whatever it is added to. Composed butters can be used to infuse sauces, flavor vegetables and meats, or just make that pat of butter by your bread a bit fancier.
Kneading equal weights of flour and soften butter together creates yet another tool for the cook. Beurre manie or kneaded butter is a simple and quick way to thicken stocks, sauces, or gravies. Having a batch on hand in my freezer has meant the difference between serving a runny sauce or one that has the strength to cling whatever it’s put on.
Melted butter has no end of uses. First and foremost, it is the go-to topping for a bowl of popcorn. Just a small drizzle on fresh vegetables brings out their flavor and a light coat of butter on fresh noodles is a simple treat.
Melted butter does have one downside. It can’t tolerate high heat. The milk solids will burn at temperatures over 250F. Sometimes this is used to advantage as in the case of browned butter sauce, which is just butter heated until those milk particles begin to brown and take on toasted flavor notes. But if you want to fry fish in butter you will need to clarify it.
Clarified butter is butter with the whey and casein protein particles removed. It’s basically pure butterfat and can be heated up to 400F without burning. Ghee is a form of clarified butter but better. The cream for making ghee is allowed to sour and produce lactic acids, which improves the flavor and quality. When it is heated, the milk solids are allowed to brown, which imparts more flavors and produces anti-oxidants to preserve it. Ghee is revered in India as a food fit for the gods.
Now that you are dreaming of all the ways to incorporate butter into your holiday cooking, what kind of butter should you use? All butter is not created equal and, lucky for us, we have a much wider range of butters to choose from today than just ten years ago.
If you can afford it, go for organic butter. You are guaranteed that the cows were not injected with genetically engineered growth hormones (r-BGH) that raise the level of pus in their milk (yuck!). Tillamook has taken a pledge to not use r-BGH so they are a good second choice if organic is out of your price range.
Cultured butter is now readily available. This is butter made to reproduce the old fashioned way of making butter. Milk used to have to sit out for a day or two for the cream to separate. During that time, lactic acid formed and slightly soured it. The resulting butter had a more complex flavor. Today, modern butter manufacturing adds bacterial cultures to help form the lactic acid. However, some use the cheap route and just add lactic acid to the finished product. Check the label to see which method is used.
European-style butter is butter with a higher butterfat content. This higher fat content is especially useful when making pastries where the extra water in regular butter can “glue” the pastry layers together rather than aiding in separating them.
Pastured butter is butter from cows that have been eating grass rather than hay and grain. A grass diet produces butter that is softer and higher in carotenoids, which produce a deep yellow. Pasture butter is ideal for spreading and making compound butters that will be used as spreads.
Whatever butter you choose, it will enhance your cooking, because, let’s face it, everything is better with butter.

Nanaimo Bars
adapted from Swilly’s Restaurant in Pullman, Wa.
Makes 1 9”x13” pan

Bottom Layer:
¾ c butter
1/3 c sugar
2 eggs
3/8 c cocoa powder
1 ¼ c vanilla
2 ½ c graham cracker crumbs
1 ¼ c coconut
2/3 c walnuts, coarsely chopped
Middle Layer:
1 c butter, cut into small pieces at room temperature
3/8 c cream
2 T. custard powder or vanilla pudding mix
4 c powdered sugar
Top Layer:
9 oz bittersweet chocolate
½ c butter
½ T. cream (more if needed)

Bottom Layer:
In a medium size saucepan, melt butter. Remove from heat and whisk in sugar and cocoa. Whisk in eggs and stir until custard-like. Whisk in vanilla.
In a large bowl, combine graham cracker crumbs, coconut and walnuts. Mix in chocolate mixture and stir until well blended and the consistency of dough. Press into a greased 9”x13” pan. Refrigerate until cool.

Middle Layer:
In a food processor, blend butter, custard powder and cream until smooth. Add the powdered sugar 1 c. at a time until well blended. Spread mixture over well-cooled bottom layer. Make sure the layer is smooth and flat. Refrigerate until firm.

Top Layer:
In a double boiler or thick-bottomed pan on low heat, melt chocolate, butter and cream until just melted. Mixture should be pourable but not runny. Add more cream if necessary to get the correct consistency. Pour over well-chilled middle layer. Spread evenly by tilting the pan to cover.

Refrigerate well then cut into squares.

2010-11-09T19:01:00.000-08:00

Our kitchen remodel is in its final throes. It’s starting to become obvious what it’s all going to look like in the end. We still don’t have a sink (and doing the dishes in the bathroom is getting really old) but the island has shaped up nicely and we’re starting to talk about what will go where. We should be done in time to host a rollicking Thanksgiving feast.

Toaster Oven where soon a sink will be

During the months we’ve been planning and constructing our new kitchen, my thoughts have kept returning to one item. No, it’s not our super cool new bamboo countertop or the soft spongy new cork floor. It’s not the amazing amount of light that now filtered in to what used to be a rather dark space or all that usable storage space just waiting to house my large collection of cooking implements. The one item that has been taking center stage in my thoughts is the garbage can.

Still under construction but check out the cork floor and bamboo countertop

From the beginning of our project, the garbage can has been worrying me. I could conceive of where I’d store all the items I wouldn’t use while we were working on the kitchen. I found a home for the few dishes and pans that we would need during the remodel. We set up an outdoor cooking space and we have a pretty good system for doing the dishes camp-style with a quick rinse in the bathroom sink. But I couldn’t figure out where the garbage would “live” while we tore the place apart and slowly put it back together.

The can moved from one location to another, always necessary but always in the way. And it was the fact that it was so necessary that really got me thinking.

When did a place to throw stuff away become so essential to my life? For that matter, when did our society decide that it needed to throw away so much stuff and why do we predominately throw it away in the kitchen?

It turns out that our society hasn’t needed the garbage can for very long. It wasn’t until the industrial revolution that we even had enough stuff to think about throwing some of it away. When you only have one change of clothes, you wear them until they fall apart and then you make them into rags or turn the good bits into quilts. When you grow most of your food, you don’t need a plastic bag for the minute it takes to get your head of lettuce from the garden to the kitchen. When the food you do buy from the local store is sold in bulk, you don’t need fancy packaging to lure you into buying it, you just need to bring some kind of reusable container to bring it home in. When you spend a large percentage of your income on food, you don’t let it rot then toss it in the trash, you eat all you can afford, then turn the not so perfect parts into soups or stews and feed the little bits of scrap to the chickens in exchange for eggs. What you really can’t use anymore goes to the junk man who sells it to small manufacturers; rags go to make paper, bottles are refilled, and even bones go to make gelatin, fertilizer, and knife handles.

The industrial revolution made it possible to produce stuff cheaply and, at the same time, gave people more disposable income. Cheap stuff and more money to spend combined to greatly increase the amount of garbage society produced. But it wasn’t until after WWII that we really started throwing stuff away in earnest. Cheap plastics made it possible to produce single-use packaging (in the US, up to 80% of products produced are used only once). Cheap extraction methods put the junk man out of business, making it cheaper to use new materials than recycle what the rag man had to sell. It became cheaper to buy something new rather than fix it. Food became cheaper, we bought more and ended up throwing lots of it away.

Today, the EPA estimates an average US citizen throws away 4.62 pound of garbage a day. 4.62 pounds a day!? No wonder I didn’t know what to do without my garbage can.

And we don’t really throw stuff “away”. It goes somewhere; we’ve just gotten good at hiding it. Today’s landfills aren’t like the midden heaps of yore where we put bits of broken pottery, shells, bones, and rinds in small piles right in town. And they are not like the open dumps of a just half a century ago that were on the edge of town and stunk enough to remind you of where your trash went. The modern sanitary landfill is enormous (some cover thousands of acres) but out of sight of it’s users. All the trash mixes together in a toxic stew, where landfill operators try to keep the toxins from leaching into the groundwater or polluting the air. And, surprise, much of the waste is from the kitchen. The EPA estimates that 31% of waste is from containers and packaging, and 12.5% is from food waste.

Now, I consider myself a pretty eco-conscientious person. We recycle everything we can. We take canvas bags to the store when we shop. I rinse out any plastic bags we acquire and use them multiple times. Jon and I both have a reusable water bottle and coffee mug. And we compost all of our food scraps. We even save all of our bottle caps and wine corks in the hopes that some day we will get creative and make something cool out of them.

So if I’m doing all those thing but still feel like I can’t be without my trashcan, what was in it? It turns out that the EPA had my number. Most of the stuff I tossed was food packaging and meat scraps, plus the occasional dustpan of floor sweepings.

All of the effort of package designers was working. I “needed” to buy my mushrooms covered in plastic and my cookies individually packaged for freshness so I could throw away all those wrappers. Whether I wanted to or not, I had bought into the world of modern convenience and I needed my garbage can handy to deal with the aftermath.

Now that the remodel is just about over, I need a new project. Maybe spending a little more time thinking about my purchases and a little less time filling up the trashcan is a worthy endeavor

Garbage Soup

Ingredients:
Whatever you have in the Fridge plus some water or broth

Directions:
Take a good look in your refrigerator for any leftovers or produce that is past its peek. Leftover chicken or a chicken carcass is a great score. If you have any beef bones from large roasts, those make a great addition as well, and roasting them first brings out even more flavor.

Heat some oil in a stockpot over medium high heat, then chop and add any type of allium (onion, garlic, leeks, shallots, or scallions) you found to the pot. Cook for a few minutes then add any chopped root vegetable or celery. Stir and cook for a few more minutes then add any bones and cover the mixture with water (if you have lots of flavorful ingredients) or broth (if your fridge was pretty empty). Bring to a boil then reduce heat to a simmer. Add any soft veggies. Simmer for about an hour adding more broth or water as needed. If you added bones, strain the soup and return it to the pot. Add any leftover grains or pasta and cook for a few more minutes. Taste and adjust the seasoning. Enjoy your recycled soup!

What Did You Say Was In That Fish?

2010-10-12T21:16:00.000-07:00

The first ever Non-GMO month is this month. The Non-GMO Project is sponsoring it and we should all be celebrating.

Why celebrate and what the heck is a GMO, you ask? We should be celebrating our right to choose foods that have not been genetically modified. GMOs (Genetically Modified Organisms, also known as Genetically Engineered (GE) foods) are foods that have been bred, not in the age old way of crossing the genes from the same species to get better traits, but by inserting genes from a completely different species into a plant or animal to, hopefully, get a new trait.

For example if you take a gene from the eel-like ocean pout that keeps them from freezing and a gene from Chinook salmon that makes them the largest salmon in nature and splice them into an Atlantic Salmon, you get a salmon that grows twice as fast and gets twice as big as it’s non-GMO cousin.

These “salmon” are nothing like their natural cousins. The company that designed them knows this and knows that if these “frankenfish” were to escape into the wild population there is strong evidence to suggest they would do irreparable harm to the native species (miraculously, the FDA didn’t rubberstamp their approval as a food fish last week, although it still may approve them pending further study).

This is very different from the way Nature does things (I’m pretty sure there’s no way for pouts and salmon to breed in the wild). Sure, humankind has been tinkering with the genetic makeup of plants and animals since we first domesticated them, but we could only do it the way nature did it, just a little bit faster.

Today the technology exists to cross the species barrier and we’ve been doing it for the past 20 years. And you’ve been eating the results of that technology for almost that long.
According to the USDA, plantings of GM soybeans, corn, and cotton this year are at all time highs with 93% of soybeans, 86% of corn, and 93% of the cotton planted in the United States being genetically modified. 80% of Hawaiian papaya, 93% of canola, 95% of sugar beets, and 13% of zucchini planted in the US are also genetically modified. 50% of all GMO crops are grown in the US.

That’s a whole lot of food. Considering the fact that almost all processed food contains at least one of those ingredients, we’re all eating GMOs. Although, when asked, over 50% of Americans think they’ve never eaten the stuff.

That’s because there is no way to find out if there are GMOs in your food (unless you want to pay a lot of money to get them tested). There is no law that requires these products to be labeled like there is in Europe and many other countries, and which, in a recent survey, 90% of Americans want. Our government has decided that genetically engineered food is “substantially equivalent” to the original and therefore requires no special label and, even scarier than that, no special safety testing. (Interestingly, that same food is different enough to allow the company that makes it to patent it).

For years, consumer groups have been pressing for labeling laws to no avail. That’s where the Non-GMO Project comes in. The Project is a non-profit, third party certifier. They test products for genetic markers and set up rigorous traceability and segregation practices to ensure the food with their seal is 99.1% GMO-free. This month is the launch of the program and a few hundred products have been certified already. There are almost 2000 more items awaiting testing results and more are being added every day.

Labeling of some kind can’t happen too soon. GMOs have been on the market for a short period of time but there are already indications that they are causing environmental harm and could have detrimental effects on us.

GE crops that are designed to resist the herbicide Round-up are now having to be sprayed with more toxic chemicals because the weeds that grow along side them that were supposed to be killed by one spray of Round-up are now becoming resistant to it and farmers are having to resort to stronger herbicides to keep the weeds at bay.

The Bt bacteria, which is a naturally occurring pesticide and is used by organic farmers but which is present in every cell of GE corm and cotton, is showing up in the waterways around GE corn fields. What that will do to the beneficial insects that live and lay eggs in those waters is unknown.

Lab tests of mice and rats that are fed a diet of GMO foods to mimic the amount of GMOs that Americans are currently eating show sterility and organ deformation after several generations. Even though the industry that is promoting GMOs (read Monsanto) says that after 20 years, there are no adverse health effects from eating GMO crops, these tests indicate that it may be our great grandchildren who will pay the price for us to be guinea pigs in this experiment.

The fact that the Non-GMO Project, which wants to make sure we are eating GMO-free, can’t guarantee that a food is 100% natural is also scary. This means that “genetic drift” is occurring and we may soon not have a choice in what foods we eat. Pollen from GMO plants can transfer to organic and non-GMO crops contaminating them with their engineered genes.

It’s not all doom and gloom. There are some encouraging things going on in the world of GMOs. The Non-GMO project is a good example. The group was started by concerned retailers, distributors and manufacturers of natural foods. There are almost 500 retailers (of which Winter Ridge is one) and at least 170 manufacturers supporting the effort. And that’s in the first year.

An Ohio judge just overturned a state law that banned dairies from labeling their milk rBGH-free. rBGH is a genetically engineered form of a naturally occurring growth hormone and is injected in cows to make them produce more milk. The judge ruled that scientific evidence showed milk from cows treated with rBGH is inferior to unadulterated milk. It contains more pus and less nutrients and consumers therefore have a right to know if their milk is from treated cows.

In August, a court order stopped the planting of GE sugar beets until further environmental testing could be done. Although the USDA is trying to step around the ruling, the direction the court took is encouraging.

An overwhelming resistance to genetically engineered wheat has kept it out of the market for at least 4 years. Hopefully the wheat farmers and global wheat buyers will continue to resist the introduction of yet another GE crop.

We can continue to fight the battle to keep genetically engineered foods out of our food system. One thing you and I can do is stop eating the stuff. Buy organic and look for the Non-GMO product label. If there is no market for GMOs then there’s no money to be made from them and no one will want to grow them. Get educated. There is lots of information out there about the effects of GMOs and how to avoid them on the web and in print. Get involved. Tell the USDA you want a choice in what you eat and want labeling and safety testing. Write your senators and representatives and tell them you want to know what you’re eating.

One of the things that most amazed me in researching this article is animals like cows, pigs, chickens, and even rats when given the choice between GE and non-GE foods picked the non-GE choice. We’ve got to be as smart as rats, don’t we?

Grilled Salmon with Miso Marinade
serves 4

2 T organic white miso paste from non-GMO soy
2 T mirin (Japanese rice wine)
1 T organic tamari from non-GMO soy
1 T minced fresh ginger
2 t cane sugar (not GMO beet sugar)
4 wild Alaskan salmon fillets (not GM frankensalmon although farmed salmon is almost as bad as the GMO stuff) (even better, buy wild salmon caught buy Sandpoint fishermen like Chris White)
2 T thinly sliced scallions, green parts only
1 T toasted sesame seeds

Mix together miso, mirin, tamari, ginger and sugar in a small bowl. Place salmon fillets, skin side down, in a shallow pan and brush mixture onto fillets. Allow to stand at room temp for 1/2 hour.
Start a charcoal or gas grill.
Grill salmon, skin side down, until the thickest part just turns opaque. Serve immediately, topped with scallions and sesame seeds.

Kitchen Transformational

2010-09-14T20:58:00.000-07:00

I moved to Sandpoint about 3 1/2 years ago and moved in with my then boyfriend now husband, Jon. He has lived here all his life and has lived in the same house for 30 years. He’s raised two boys in the house and you could kind of tell.
We did a bunch of remodeling when I first moved up, replacing the floors, doors, and trim in the living room and the bedrooms right away. We removed old wallpaper and repainted. About a year later we worked over one of the bathrooms. Then we added a garden out back and replaced the old aluminum frame windows with something that didn’t grow mold all winter.
All the time we’ve been working on the house, we knew we would eventually remodel the kitchen but it seemed like such a daunting task. We use our kitchen a lot and cook dinner from scratch almost every night. I bake bread and other treats on a regular basis.
We don’t have TV so we spend most of our evenings hanging out cooking and eating. What would our life be like living without a kitchen for the time it took to remodel? Would we be able to endure it? We’re starting to find out.
This is no simple remodel. The cabinets and appliances are all being replaced and, most importantly, we’re replacing the floor. This means at some point, we will have to empty everything out of the kitchen. No fridge, no oven, and no horizontal surfaces (unless you include the floor, which we can’t, since we’re replacing it)
We’re still in the beginning stages of the remodel so I’m guessing it’s going to get a lot worse, but I’ve already starting to realize it’s not going to be easy.
The first thing I did was pack up anything that I thought we could live without for a few months. Those sushi plates that are so beautiful to look at and that I only use once a year (maybe) were an easy call. So were the Santa mugs (please, let us be done before Christmas).
The Cuisinart was a harder decision. I use it fairly regularly but couldn’t I realistically do without it for this relatively brief time and just chop stuff up the old fashioned way? I packed it and two weeks later I was wishing I hadn’t.
However, one lesson I’ve learned during this packing extravaganza is that we own a bunch of stuff that we just don’t really need. The meat grinder is nice to have when you want it but couldn’t we live the rest of our lives without it and still be happy. Do we really need all 50+ cookbooks or could we happily make do with the six I didn’t pack and find anything else we wanted on-line? Why do we have so much stuff and, worse yet, why do I miss it now that I can’t get to it even if I’d forgotten about it until I packed it?
I also learned that having a pantry is essential to being able to get rid of your upper cabinets and still be able to have a functioning kitchen. We wanted to be able to do some of the prep work and some of the painting before we took out all the cabinets and this required the removal of our upper cabinets; you know the ones with everything you use on a regular basis right there in front of you and super handy?
Well, all that stuff had to go somewhere. Some of it went into the space vacated by packing some of the stuff in the lower cabinets, some of it got packed, and a ridiculous amount of it went into the pantry that Jon built over the winter. The pantry is now completely full and it is amazing how much you can fit in a well-designed 3’x3’x8’ closet. It is also astounding how hard it is to find anything in there now.
I’ve come to realize that there is a reason why there are upper cabinets in most kitchens. While we are making due with not having any (and really enjoying the openness of the kitchen without them), not having glasses and coffee mugs (not to mention plates, olive oil, spices, etc.) within easy reach is getting to be a pain.
I’ve also noticed what creatures of habit we are. Everything had a home before we started this project and now neither of us knows where the other person decided the temporary home of an item should be. (In fact, Jon just interrupted my writing to ask where I had put his saucepan.) Where stuff lives now depends on who puts away the dishes.

The last lesson I’ve learned (so far) is one I’ve always known but it’s never been driven home quite like this: horizontal surfaces collect a lot of stuff. Our countertop was always the collection point for the mail, for reminder notes, or for things that didn’t quite have a home yet.
But now there are so many things without a home that no horizontal surface is off limits. The dining room chairs stacked upside-down in the living room are home the paper towels and the paper towel holder (which had to be removed from the wall for painting). The step stool has some sanding pads and a couple of energy bars on top. And the counter is covered with such a variety of food and building supplies, I don’t have the time to go into it.

The Countertop

We still have quite a ways to go before life in the kitchen returns to normal and I’m sure there will be more lessons learned along the way (like just how unenjoyable it is to do the dinner dishes in the bathtub). For now, we are still having fun (and getting along just fine, thank you). We both believe that whatever else this remodel throws at us, the new kitchen will be worth the struggle.

Keep Your Man Happy While He Remodels The Kitchen Blue Cheese Dressing
Adapted from The Best of Thymes by Marge Clark
Makes 2 ½ c

½ c sour cream
½ c plain yogurt (I use non-fat to try and counteract all the other fat in the recipe)
1 c mayonnaise
8 oz. blue cheese, crumbled
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 t apple cider vinegar
½ t salt
pepper to taste
1 T fresh chives, chopped (optional)

Mix all the ingredients together well. Best if placed in a glass jar and refrigerated overnight, but damned tasty even if you can’t wait. Will keep up to a month but probably won’t last that long.

The Mangler and Other Travel Tales

2010-08-30T20:38:00.000-07:00

Jon and I love to travel around the Northwest. We can come up with all kinds of reasons to pack up the car and get away for a long weekend. We also love good food and we enjoy making good food together. Believe it or not, traveling allows us to do both while enjoy new places and people.
It seems obvious that you could find all kinds of wonderful new restaurants in which to enjoy great food while traveling. A couple of keystrokes on the computer and you can find the best places to eat wherever you go. A little pre-trip planning and you can sample delicious local fare for every meal of your trip. Of course, the reviews on-line aren’t always correct and eating out for every meal for days on end gets old, not to mention expensive.
It might be somewhat less obvious how making good food and travel go together and how cooking in your hotel room lets you explore new places and people the same way sitting down at a local restaurant does. But with a bit of preparation, cooking for yourself on vacation can be more fun, interesting and delicious than many of the eateries you might found along the way.
One of Jon and my early dates involved staying in a cabin on Orcas Island and cooking almost all our meals on a mini Weber grill armed only with a few tin pie pans and a serrated butter knife for cooking implements. We managed to make eggs, bacon and toast for breakfast and oysters and salmon for dinner. The whole experience was fun and creative. We laughed so hard about trying to cook with a butter knife, which we had affectionately named “the mangler”, that we had to take it home as a souvenir. We explored the small grocery store near our cabin and checked out the local fishmonger. We also learned quite a bit about what to do on our next trip to make our cooking on the road experience even better.
To have a great cooking experience on the road requires a few key things. The first is staying in the right place. Mariotts and Holiday Inns are not going to be very happy when the smell of bacon comes wafting out of your room every morning, and you won’t have much fun trying to cook it in the microscopic microwave they provide. Instead of looking for standard hotel rooms, look for ones that offer full kitchens or, better yet, find a house or condo to rent for a few nights. You’ll make up the little bit of extra expense by the saving on not eating out for every meal (or at least that’s how I rationalize it, although I’ve never bothered to do the math).
The second key ingredient is to bring your own knife. Our “mangler” experience has been repeated several times, although not quite to the extent of our first bad knife episode. Assume that whatever cooking knives you find in your rental kitchen will be as dull as a butter knife and bring at least one sharp knife from home. If you luck out and find a place with decent knives, you and whoever else is cooking with you can chop veggies together (but don’t plan on it, we’ve only stayed in one place where this actually happened).
Bring some basic ingredients from home as well. Most kitchens will have salt and pepper but that’s about it. Packing a few of your favorite spices so you don’t have to buy a whole jar just to add a sprinkle here and there will pay off. A small jar of cooking oil is also nice to have. If you are going to be traveling for a while and you’ve got room in the car for a cooler, pack some eggs or any veggies that won’t make it until you get home. We also pack tea, coffee and sugar so we don’t have to go searching for some first thing in the morning in a new town.
Jon is the breakfast cook in our family and he is rather particular about his egg pan, so we pack one with us. If you’ve got a kitchen utensil you feel naked without and you’ve got the space, by all means bring it along. However, I would recommend not bringing along the Kitchen Aid or the bread machine. There is a point of diminishing returns.Once you arrive at your kitchen away from home and scope out what kind of equipment you’ll be dealing with, it’s time for the fun to begin. Wander around town and check out the local shops. Is there a co-op or a small grocer that might have some local products you won’t find anywhere else? Is there a farmer’s market or a fish shop to pick up what’s fresh and local? How about a winery or brewery for just the right accompaniment to your meal? Can you actually cook all those great ideas in your less than well-stocked kitchen?
Be creative and fearless with your away-from-home creations. The great flavor of fresh local ingredients help you keep your recipes simple yet you’ll still wind up with a delicious dinner. Some of the best dinners we’ve made on the road have involved less than five ingredients and were put together quickly after a day of sightseeing.
There is one drawback to cooking on the road and that is that you still have to do your own dishes. There’s no waiter to whisk them away for you. But at least you’re doing them in some beautiful location, and if you did your research on lodging well, you might even have a view of the Pacific Ocean to do them by.

Dilly Bean and the Mangler

Homecoming Dilly Beans
Makes 5 pints

This recipe has nothing to do with travel cooking but I just made some this weekend and I can’t wait to eat them. They won’t be ready for a couple of weeks, just when I get back from a short trip so they’ll be a nice homecoming present.

2 lb. whole green beans, tips and tails removed and trimmed to fit upright in pint jars
1 t. red pepper flakes
5 dried dill heads or 2 t. dill seed
10 cloves garlic, peeled
3 c. vinegar
3 c. water
¼ c. non-iodized salt
5 pint canning jars with lids and rings
Sanitize the jars, lids and rings in boiling water for 5 minutes. Drain the jars and add one dill head, 1/5 t. of red pepper flakes and 2 garlic cloves. Divide the beans between the jars, standing them upright and packing them in as much as possible.
Boil the vinegar, water and salt together in a saucepan. Pour the hot liquid over the beans and fill to ½” of the top of each jar. Seal the jars with lids and rings and place in a simmering water bath. Once the bath returns to simmer, cook for tem minutes. Remove from heat, cool, and make sure the jars are sealed. Store for 2 weeks to let the flavor develop.
⁃

Life without Salsa

2010-07-19T19:58:00.000-07:00

By now you may be getting tired of hearing about the Bonner County Republicans’ decision to protest the County Fair theme of “Fiesta” by naming their booth “Celebration”, but I’m still flabbergasted. I understand that they wanted to make a political point of siding with the new Arizona immigration law, but did they really think that they could eliminate all Spanish-derived words from our language? Where would it end? Would they stop going to rodeos? Would all the alpaca breeders in the area need to send their animals south? And would we have to stop barbequing and just grill instead?
Our language is so full of words from other languages we don’t even notice it anymore. It would be sad if we lost all those colorful words and had to go back to speaking Shakespearean English instead. Luckily, our language is constantly evolving and is influenced by new ideas and different cultures on a regular basis. It would be very difficult to rid ourselves of all those “non-English” words.
Would the Bonner County Republicans stop at just eliminating Spanish words? I wonder if Cornel Rasor wants to try to eliminate Latin American and Spanish influenced food from our county as well. I fear this would be even tougher than the language problem.
Where would they start? Would they get rid of all the New World foods that were discovered in Mexico or further south? I know I’d be resistant to living without chocolate for the sake of someone else’s political agenda. Life without vanilla, potatoes, tomatoes, peanuts and chili peppers would be a sad existence. Our entire packaged food industry would be lost without corn.
Let’s say they didn’t want to be so extreme, it would still be hard to draw the line. Latin American food is as diverse as the people and has itself been influenced by different cultures. It is has been developing for thousands of years and been affected by native populations, African slaves, Spanish explorers, and white settlers.
If you did want to rid our county of any trace of Latin American influence, it might be easy to get rid of tacos or empanadas, but Latin American food has so thoroughly infiltrated our cuisine you might miss a few items if you didn’t look closely.
Take the tortilla for example. This simple flat bread made from corn or wheat flour is now ubiquitous and not just in Mexican restaurants. It’s used to wrap up all kinds of different foods into easy to carry little bundles. The goodies inside can have a Hispanic influence or they can be as “All American” as turkey, cranberries and gravy.
One look at the chip aisle in a grocery store would convince you that fried tortilla chips are a staple in our diet. Although they haven’t overtaken the potato chip as the U.S. favorite snack, they might be difficult to eradicate. And Texas would have to find a new official state snack.
Barbequing has it’s origins in the Caribbean not in Mother England. The Spanish introduced pigs to these islands, while the native people provided the technique for slow cooking meat with indirect heat. Today the southern states are the ruling kings and queens of BBQ but it will never lose its Spanish beginnings.
And what would you do about hot, spicy foods? Although the chili pepper has spread to many cuisines across the globe, it truly shines in Latin American food. With many thousands of years of a head start, it’s no wonder that they’ve got the hot food thing down.
The thought of eating bland, boiled vegetables and organ meat for the foreseeable future is a bleak vision, but that’s what we’d be in store for if we ate only English food with no other cultural influence.
Whether or not the Republican Party in our town wants to deny us the vast and delicious array of Latin American cuisine makes light of the more important food issue here. Illegal immigration reform does need to happen, not so we can keep all those Hispanics out of the country but so we can keep some of them here.
Much of the food grown in this country is picked by undocumented farm workers. The current laws make it difficult for them to be here legally. The work they do is work that most legal citizens don’t want (if you disagree and want a job in the fields, the United Farm Workers has a Take Our Jobs campaign going on right now and I’m sure they’ll be able to hook you up). If we deported all illegal farm workers, the agricultural industry would collapse. Undocumented workers also make up a large percentage of slaughterhouse labor. There is obviously something wrong with the system that wants its food cheap but doesn’t want the cheap labor that makes it all possible.
There must be a better answer to this difficult question. Not being a political wonk, I’m not sure what the answer is, but I’m convinced changing the theme of our fair and displaying some out-of state license plates isn’t it.

Tofu Fajitas (in which only 2 ingredients are English in origin)
Serves 4

1 lb Spicy Small Planet Tofu
1 T. + 1/8 c. mild chili powder (divided)
Juice of one lime
1 c. beer
4 T. canola oil or other neutral oil, divided
2 medium onions, cut in half and sliced into 1/4” thick rings
2 red bell peppers, sliced into strips
2 t. cumin powder
¼ t. cayenne powder (optional)
1 c. fresh salsa
Salt and pepper to taste

Accompaniments:
Lettuce, shredded
Tomatoes, diced
Cilantro, chopped
Jalapeno, finely chopped (optional)
Additional salsa or hot sauce
8 Flour or 12 corn tortillas, warmed

Cut the tofu into ½”x ½”x3” strips. Mix 1 T. chili powder, lime juice, and beer together in a shallow pan. Place the tofu strips in the marinade and let sit, turning occasionally, for 30 minutes.
In a large frying pan, heat 2 T. of oil on medium high heat. Add the tofu, reserving the marinade, and lightly brown on all sides. Remove tofu and set aside.
Add remaining oil. Add the onions and peppers and cook for 15 minutes or until soft. Return the tofu to the pan and add 1/8 c. chili powder, cumin, cayenne, salsa and remaining marinade. Continue cooking and stirring the mixture until the liquid has reduced and thickened a bit. Adjust the seasonings. Serve in a bowl accompanied by individual bowls of lettuce, tomato, cilantro and jalapenos. Assemble fajitas in your choice of tortilla.

Raw and Cut into Bite Sized Cubes

2010-07-05T21:02:00.000-07:00

My brother bought me a cheese making kit for my birthday. I opened it up immediately and got all excited about making my own cheese. The kit came with everything I would need to make thirty batches of cheese, except the milk. And because of that exception, it sat on my counter and teased me for two months. I made no mozzarella, ricotta, paneer, queso blanco or chevre because I didn’t have the right milk.

Now I know what you’re thinking, how hard would it be for me to run down to the store and buy a gallon of milk and make the damn cheese already? And you would be have a point if I wanted to make my first ever cheese with just plain, old, ordinary, store-bought milk. But I’m not a store-bought milk kind of a girl.

In truth, I’m not much of a milk girl at all. I use a small amount in my baking but rarely have fresh milk on hand. When there is milk in the house, it’s organic and ultra-pasteurized. It’s organic because I can’t stomach the idea of drinking all the antibiotics and puss in milk from cows treated with rBGH (recombinant Bovine Growth Hormone) , and buying organic milk insures that I don’t have to. It’s ultra-pasteurized because I don’t use it very fast and the high heat treatment makes the milk last longer although it kills lots of the nutrients and enzymes.

But ultra-pasteurized milk doesn’t work for cheese making and it’s hard to find plain old pasteurized organic milk around here. Besides, I wanted to make my first batch of cheese with real milk, straight from a cow that lived in my neighborhood, because real raw milk makes the best cheese.

Now there is some serious controversy about raw milk. Raw milk enthusiasts claim that not only does the milk taste better, but it’s better for you. Pasteurization and homogenization change the structure of the milk and kill all bacteria naturally found in milk, including good bacteria. It’s thought that whole raw milk from pasture-raised cows contains more nutrients and enzymes and is better absorbed by our bodies and may even help alleviate some diseases.

Critics of raw milk claim that it’s dangerous and can kill you, especially if you’re young, elderly, or have a compromised immune system. Raw milk can harbor some nasty bacteria including campylobacter, tuberculosis, and e-coli (but then again we know that there can be plenty of e-coli in those grade A burgers you buy at the grocery store).

The data I found about the risks of drinking raw milk weren’t too scary. From 1998-2005 there were only 39 outbreaks of illnesses related to raw milk. 831 people were sickened, 66 ended up in the hospital, and only one death was associated with drinking raw milk or eating a raw milk product in those seven years. Drinking raw milk appears to be safer than eating industrial produced beef or chicken.

Drinking raw milk from a local farmer, whose farm you can visit and whose cows you can meet might actually be the safest way to go. Since the farmer has to look you in the eye when she sells you your milk and knows that you won’t come back if the milk is in anyway contaminated and that you will probably tell your whole neighborhood about how her milk made you sick, she’s got a vested interest in making sure her operation is spotless and her milk is contaminant-free.

Lucky for us, Idaho is one of the 39 states in the US where it is legal to purchase raw milk. In fact, the legislature just clarified and improved the law that allows raw milk sales. Unfortunately, it’s still not sold in stores.

There are two ways that you can obtain raw milk in Idaho. The first is from a farmer with 3 or fewer lactating cows who obtains a permit from the state and meets certain labeling, testing and sanitation requirements. That farmer can then sell you as much or as little milk as you want, you just need to find her and figure out where she’s selling her milk. I’ve heard rumors there is such a farmer at the Farmer’s Market in Sandpoint but I don’t know who it is.

The other way to obtain raw milk is to own your own cow, or at least part of one. The herd share program allows farmers with 7 or fewer lactating cows to sell shares of those cows, provided they obtain the correct permit from the state and meet the same testing and sanitation requirements as the small herd farmer. The shareholders get a certain amount of milk each week, depending on how many shares they own. The farmer does all the hard work of feeding, housing, and milking the cows and the shareholders just pick up their fresh milk each week from the farm.

Heritage Farms (www.naturalheritagefarms.com) has a herd share program. They had one in place even before the new law went into effect. Since it has always been legal to drink raw milk from your own cow, Luana and Wilber Hiebert, the owners of Heritage Farms, have been selling shares of their cows for years.

This is one the cow my milk came from!

When I mentioned to Luana that I wanted to try making my own cheese, she generously offered to give me some free milk to try. Two months later I finally had the time to: a) pick up the milk in Cocolalla when both Luana was home and I could drop it right back at my house without it having to sit in the car all day and b) make cheese before the milk went bad.

When the planets aligned this past weekend, I stopped by Heritage Farms to pick up the milk. Luana was more than generous and there was a giant (and quite heavy) 4 gallon bucket of fresh milk waiting for me when I arrived. I drove it home and had to clear off a shelf in the refrigerator to store it (which I did with my fingers crossed so the whole shelf wouldn’t collapse under the weight).

The following day I spent hours watching curds and whey separate. It never ceased to amaze me (but then I’m easily entertained) although it was only the mozzarella that got me giggling and calling to Jon to hurry and come look. By the end of the day I’d made ricotta, mozzarella and paneer and had eaten generous samplings of each.

I’m happy to report I’m still quite healthy and all the cheese tastes delicious, even if it needs a bit more salt. I may be the proud owner of (a share of) a cow in the not too distant future.

Paneer Kabobs
makes 4 servings

1 cup coconut milk
2 tsp ground cumin
2 tsp chili powder
1 tsp sugar
Juice of one lime
1 tbsp. grated ginger
2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 lb paneer, cut in ½” cubes (preferably homemade from raw milk)
2 red pepper, cut into 1 inch squares
1 med onion, cut into quarters, separated into small chunks of two to three layers each
10 Cherry tomatoes
Bamboo or metal skewers, at least 12

Mix together first 7 ingredients in a large bowl. Add the paneer cubes, toss well, and let marinate for at least 30 minutes or up to 2 hours.
Start a charcoal or gas grill. Allow charcoal grill to burn down to a medium heat or set gas grill to medium. If using bamboo skewers, soak in water for 30 minutes.
Alternately skewer a piece of paneer, red pepper, onion and tomato onto skewer until skewer is full. Make sure to leave some room between each piece. Continue filling skewers until all the ingredients are gone. Grill, turning frequently, until all the ingredients are cooked through. Paneer should be crisp on the outside but soft on the inside. Don’t worry, it won’t melt completely. Serve immediately over a bed of basmati rice.

Solstice and Sorrow

2010-06-21T21:12:00.000-07:00

It’s been a sad couple of weeks. It started when my mom called to inform me that a family friend had died 11 days after being diagnosed with lung cancer. Then Phil Role died after a much longer battle with cancer. And just the other day, my friend Sarah e-mailed me that her young niece had had a skiing accident and wasn’t expected to live.
Needless to say, I’ve been doing my fair share of crying.
The memorial service for Phil was particularly moving. I barely knew him but that didn’t stop me from using plenty of the tissues someone had thoughtfully left on all the chairs. I cried, not only for his family, who must now continue on with a large gap in their life, but for myself and the hole in my life left after my dad died when I was only 20. I cried all the way home from the service. Then I had to hold off calling Sarah for a day to make sure the phone call wouldn’t just be us listening to each other sob.
Aside from shedding tears, I also had an overwhelming desire to feed both the Role family and my friend. What is it about death that makes me want to cook? Why is it that food seems to be the best way for me to express how truly sorry I am and how I wish there was something in my power to make it all better?
I’m not alone in these feelings. Feeding the bereaved has been a part of many cultures and religions since funeral rites began. Each culture has a different take on what food is served when and by whom, but the reasons behind the food are similar.
The poet Jeanne Nall Adams hints at one of the reasons for having food as part of the funeral rites. “Atop the beans he piled the ham/Atop the cake, the pie./Take time to stuff, O mourner./Full stomachs cannot cry”
But it’s not just that it’s harder to cry with your mouth full. Food focuses our thoughts on the needs of the living. People have traveled for miles and are hungry. The bereaved are too disconsolate to think about eating but still need to take in nourishment. And food may help ease the stress-induced fight or flight reaction that grief causes (your brain knows it’s not in danger if it has time to stop and eat).
Food sustains life and often the foods that are served symbolically represents life such as hard boiled eggs, or are circular to represent the circle of life such as the lentils traditional served during Jewish Shiva.
Food brings a community together and gives us something to talk over as we remember the dead.
And of course, food is comforting. Most often, funeral food is synonymous with comfort food. Folks in the southern United States have the comfort thing down and their “repasts” are filled with fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and apple pie.
Knowing that bringing food to the bereaved is the right thing to do is easy; deciding what is the most appropriate is a bit harder.
If you are bringing food for the immediate family, simple easy to serve and eat food is best. Soup or sandwiches will do the trick. Casseroles are great to bring to stock their freezer for later when things calm down and they still don’t feel like cooking.
If you are bringing food to share after a funeral service or memorial, then your favorite potluck dish is fine as long as it’s not too fancy. This is not the time to try and compete for the Iron Chef title. Everyone there is going to want comfort food so bring your favorite.
The exception to this rule is if the person whose funeral you are attending was a great lover of food. In that case, it would be in their honor to make something spectacular (please note my request for Thai green curry in the accompanying recipe).
Aside from offering comfort to the family and friends of the departed, making food and producing something nourishing and good helps heal the cook. The act of creation is a soothing balm to a mind filled with loss and sadness.
It turned out that, to date, my cooking impulse served only to sooth me. I wasn’t able to take food to Phil’s memorial (not that anyone noticed, there was enough food there to feed all of Sandpoint) and Sarah left for the East Coast before I could send her a care package. Instead, I baked a batch of cookies, thought about the loved ones I have lost, then shared them with the loved ones I still have.

Thai Green Curry over Coconut Rice
Serves 4
This isn’t your typical funeral fare but I’d like to have it served at my funeral. It’s one of my favorite foods.

3 ½ c. coconut milk (divided)
1 c. jasmine rice
2 T. green curry paste
½ c. chicken broth
3 T. fish sauce
2 T. brown sugar
1 T. sliced ginger
½ medium onion, quartered and sliced
1 red bell pepper, sliced into chunks
1 can bamboo shoots
10 oz. lean beef steak, cut into thin strips
¼ c. chopped fresh basil
¼ c. chopped fresh cilantro
Juice of one lime

In a medium saucepan, bring 2 cups of coconut milk to a boil. Stir in the rice. Lower the heat to a simmer and cover. Cook until the milk is completely absorbed and the rice is done.
Meanwhile, in a large wok, combine the remaining coconut milk, curry paste, chicken broth, fish sauce, brown sugar and ginger. Bring the mixture to a boil then reduce the heat and simmer for 10 minutes. Add the onions, red pepper, and bamboo shoots. Simmer until the vegetables are almost tender. Add the beef and continue simmering until the beef is cook through, about 5 minutes depending on how thick the slices are. Stir in the chopped herbs and remove from heat. Serve curry over the coconut rice.

This is coconut overload and can be enjoyed with plain jasmine rice when not served at my funeral.

Salt: The Only Rock We Eat

2010-06-07T20:58:00.000-07:00

Four years ago, my mom took me to Italy for my 40th birthday present. It was an incredible trip. We saw famous art up close and personal and ate pasta and pizza like I’d never experienced. We had gelato everyday (and sometimes twice a day when it was hot). The tour took us to Rome, Florence and Venice; each of which I’d gladly go back to and spend a month exploring. We also spent a day in Siena.

Siena is a city frozen in the Middle Ages. The center of the city, the Piazza del Campo, still hosts a horse race that has been run since medieval times.

The Campo

The Palazzo Pubblico, at the base of the shell-shaped plaza, has a tower that beckons tourists to climb it. Well, it beckoned this tourist. Mom and the rest of our tour group stayed below and had lunch while I climbed over 500 stairs to be rewarded with a heart-stopping view.

The Stairwell

The View

All of Tuscany was laid out before me. I wanted to stay for hours, but the climb up had made me hungry, and being on a tour meant I had to be back to the bus on time.
When I finally got down, there wasn’t much time to eat. We slipped into what I would call a deli but what the Italians probably call by a much sexier name. I’d noticed it on our way to the Campo because of the colorful cords hanging in the doorway. It was a very simple shop with a giant display case across the back wall. Two men stood behind the case; one fat, one tall and skinny, while an older man stood in the corner washing greens.

The men behind the counter were friendly and flirtatious. They listed off all the different kinds of cured meats and cheeses they had to offer. I was overwhelmed and just asked that they make me a sandwich with whatever they liked best.
Oh my god! It was the best sandwich I have ever eaten. I have no idea what was in it or what made it so amazing. To the naked eye, it looked like a salami and cheese sandwich on good crusty bread. In my mouth, it turned into a magnificent combination of flavors and textures that I’m afraid will never be repeated.
Since then, I’ve tried and failed to find cured meat of the caliber I had in Italy. I haven’t found cheese with the same intense flavor, and I haven’t found bread with the same crusty bite. But recently I realized there is one common ingredient in all of those sandwich components, which was probably in perfect proportion in each of them, to make the whole thing come together for that consummate experience. That ingredient is salt.
Yes, lowly salt.
We take salt for granted. Sure, you know it enhances the flavor of foods, but when was the last time you thought about the fact that without salt we would all die. Salt (sodium chloride) is essential to the human body. Without it, our muscles wouldn’t work and our cells would cease to get nutrients. Of course, in our culture of highly processed foods, which are loaded with salt to make them taste slightly better than cardboard, we’re not in much danger of dying from salt deprivation.
Because our bodies need salt, we’ve developed quite a taste for it. Salt is the only one of our five tastes that only comes from one source, so we tend to add it to most of our food to round out and intensify the flavor.
But salt does more than just make food taste better. In the case of my perfect sandwich, each ingredient wouldn’t exist without it.
Bread without salt isn’t really worth eating. Besides being flavorless (with the possible exception, ironically enough, of some traditional breads from Tuscany), bread without salt lacks strength. Salt tightens up the gluten or protein matrix that is the backbone of bread. Without it, bread does not hold its shape as well or rise as high.
And that Sienese sandwich bread was stout and flavorful.
Cheese needs salt for similar reasons. It’s a flavor enhancer and it firms up the protein structure. It also helps draw whey out of the curd and regulate the ripening process. Most importantly, it destroys or inhibits the growth of bacteria and other microbes that might spoil the cheese.
I can assure you the cheese on my sandwich was perfectly ripe and flavorful without a hint of spoilage.
When it comes to cured meats, like salami, most wouldn’t exist without salt. Salt regulates the fluid exchange in cells. A concentration of salt outside the cell wall draws water out of the cell and draws salt, and any flavors added to the salt, in. It dehydrates cells and flavors them at the same time.
Salt also changes the structure of the protein molecules, unbunching them and making them firm but tender. While it’s working on the muscle cells of the meat, it’s also dehydrating and disabling any spoilage microbes, thereby preserving the meat.
And dry-cured aged meat like my salami undergoes more changes as it ages. Because the salt preserves it for months, the protein in the meat has a chance to break down into flavor molecules and the fat cells get to break apart into volatile compounds, both of which greatly enhance the flavor.
And, boy, was my sandwich meat flavorful, tender, and well preserved.
Salt has made our civilization what it is. It allowed us to explore far-off places because we could keep food fresh longer. It has been used as currency (the word salary derives from the word salt) and caused revolutions. And it made my perfect sandwich possible. I just wish there was a way to use in to get back to Siena for another one.

Gravlax (Salt and Sugar Cured Salmon)
serves 10-12

2-3 lbs center-cut fresh wild salmon fillet of fairly uniform thickness, with skin on (preferably from our local Alaska fisherman, Chris White)
4 oz. sugar
6 oz. kosher salt
2 tbs. crushed black pepper
3 tbs. Aquavit
4 oz. fresh dill sprigs

Mix the sugar, salt and crushed pepper together. Sprinkle half of it onto the bottom of a non-reactive baking dish that’s just slightly larger than the filet. Place the salmon skin-side down on the salt-sugar mixture. Pour the Aquavit over the fish. Cover the fish with the remaining salt-sugar mixture. Cover all of it with sprigs of dill. Cover with plastic wrap.
Place a flat plate or pan on top of the fish and weight it down evenly with cans or a brick (about 4-8 lbs) to compress the salmon. Refrigerate for 1-3 days, until the thickest part of the fish is firm to the touch. If it feels raw and swishy, let it cure for another day. Redistribute the cure ingredients as needed halfway through the cure.
When the salmon is firm, remove it from the cure and wash it off well. Slice it paper thin and serve on salad, bagels, or toast points with crème fraiche.
The gravlox will keep for 3 weeks in the refrigerator, wrapped in parchment paper. Change the paper if it becomes wet.

Give Me Sorrel or Give Me Death

2010-05-24T18:10:00.000-07:00

Fresh local greens are back. Finally. It was a long, potato and onion-filled winter, but now I’m gorging on fresh locally grown spring salad mix, spinach, and baby bok choy. Sure, I’ve had some store bought salad mix since that hard frost back in October, but it’s not the same (you’re lucky if lasts two days after you buy it and it’s kind of flaccid even when it’s fresh).
However, there is one green that I love for which I must wait patiently until spring. Because it starts to deteriorate so quickly after harvest, most supermarkets don’t bother carrying it. I can only find it at farmer’s markets or in my own garden. And there really is nothing else out there that compares with its lemony, acidic bite. Sorrel is my pay off for surviving the winter on root crops.
My mom was the one who introduced sorrel (Rumex acetosa) into my life. We always had a huge patch of it in the garden and she would make pots and pots of sorrel soup every spring. It was one of her favorites and she passed on her love of it to me.
I figured I would write this whole article about the wonders of this fine plant, where it originated from, and what chemical composition created its unique lemony flavor, thereby passing on my passion for sorrel to the Sandpoint community.
I did a bit of research and found that sorrel has been cultivated since the 16th century and is great in soups and as a sauce for fish. I learned that it is related to rhubarb and buckwheat. I found out that the sour bite I love so much is due to sorrel’s high oxalic acid content.
And then I learned that oxalic acid is poisonous. My mom wasn’t trying to pass on her love, she was trying to kill me, and while I’m the first to admit I was kind of a trying child, especially during my teenage years, I couldn’t believe she’d try to off me with sorrel.
Were there other foods she was trying to sneak into my diet to aid in my slow poisoning?
We’d have rhubarb pie every spring and rhubarb is also high in oxalic acid. It’s most concentrated in the leaves of the plant, not the stalk, and as far as I could tell she never slipped any leaves into my piece of pie.
Did she really not like lima beans or did she always give me her serving for nefarious reasons? Lima beans and other beans contain protease inhibitors and lectins that can interfere with proper absorption of nutrients in the digestive track and bring on symptoms of food poisoning. These toxins are inactivated by thorough cooking, but weren’t those lima beans always a bit on the crunchy side?
Was she feeding me too many alkaloids? Alkaloids are bitter tasting and toxic. Caffeine, nicotine, and quinine are a few common alkaloids. Green potatoes and potato sprouts are especially high in poisonous alkaloids, but Mom never served sprouting potatoes. She has always been a big fan of coffee and vodka tonics (tonic water gets its bitter flavor from quinine) but never pushed these on me as a kid. She did try to get me addicted to coffee soda for a while, but she was drinking more of it than me. Maybe she was using some other food to do me in.
Maybe it was the bamboo shoots? She would always add them to her delicious stir-fries. Bamboo shoots, if not properly prepared, contain high levels of cyanogens. Cyanogens break down in the body into hydrogen cyanide and can cause cyanide poisoning. I’m sure I saw her take them out of a can and I would guess the manufacturer made sure they were cyanide-free, but I can’t be sure.
She always encouraged me to eat lots of citrus, stone, and pome fruits, the seeds of which are high in cyanide generating chemicals, but at the same time she did advise me not to eat the seeds. Was Mom using some kind of reverse psychology on me? Did she secretly want me to chew my apple seeds?
All those interesting and not necessarily kid-friendly flavors that Mom had me try might have been another way for her to introduce toxins into my diet. Glycyrrhizin, the sweet flavor in licorice root, could have raised my blood pressure to dangerous levels. Coumarin in lavender could have interfered with blood clotting. And myristicin in nutmeg could have made me hallucinate so I wouldn’t notice any of it.
She may even have gotten my dad involved. Dad was the grill master in the family. Was he introducing too many PAHs (polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons) into my meat when he was barbecuing? PAHs are carcinogens that are formed when wood burns and are carried into the meat if it is cooked over high heat in an enclosed environment. But wouldn’t everyone’s meat be tainted, not just mine? And didn’t we have a gas grill with no wood to form PAHs?
Maybe I’m just being paranoid. Maybe my parents were trying to expose me to a wide range of foods and flavors to expand my palette, not poison me. Maybe my parents wanted to pass on their love of good food as a way to show their love for me, despite what a royal pain in the butt I was. And if that’s the case, I’m off to make a big pot of sorrel soup.

Vicki Reich lives in Sagle and loves her mom. She doesn’t believe for a second her mom ever actually tried to poison her (although she definitely had just cause) and only used the idea for entertainment purposes.

Sorrel Soup
Serves 4

1 tbls. Butter
1 large onion, chopped
4 c. chicken broth
1-2 large potatoes, peeled and diced (more potatoes makes a creamier soup)
3 c. chopped sorrel
Salt and pepper to taste
Plain yogurt or sour cream for garnish

Heat butter in a stock pot over medium high heat until melted. Add onion and sauté for five minutes or until the onion softens. Add the broth and potato. Bring to a boil then lower heat to a simmer. Simmer until potato is soft, 20-30 minutes. Add sorrel and simmer for 10 minutes. Add salt and pepper to taste. Puree in batches in a blender or in the pot with an immersion blender. Serve hot or cold with a dollop of yogurt or sour cream.

I Like Meat, Meat is Good

2010-05-11T20:19:00.000-07:00

My husband is a carnivore. There is no denying it. Meals without meat are not truly meals in his mind. And you can’t really blame him. Meat is delicious and we are biologically rigged to think so. Our sense of smell and taste has evolved to let us know what foods are good sources of energy and nutrition. Our taste buds can perceive essential elements in food that keep us alive. The taste of meat tells our brains that it’s got the salts, sugars and amino acids we need to fuel our bodies. And the smell of cooking meat, well, that just makes us salivate.
Meat fueled the development of our big brains. It was the concentrated energy source we needed to withstand long migrations and cold climates. Meat has made us who we are today and how can you blame Jon if it’s hard for him to overcome 100,000 years of evolution.
But meat today isn’t the same as what our ancestors were eating. The age and fat content of meat has changed quite a bit in the last hundred or so years. Meat animals used to be slaughtered at much older ages. Most animals had some primary purpose like providing labor, milk, eggs or wool and were only slaughtered after they were no longer useful for those tasks. The meat from these animals was tough but had much more flavor and character. This was due to greater muscle development (which leads to toughness but also more flavor) and to greater accumulation of flavor characteristics in the fat.
As the middle class rose in affluence and the demand for more meat increased, production began to specialize in animals raised only for meat. And there was a profit to be made from raising animals as quickly as possible and slaughtering them at a young age. This lead to tenderer, fattier and less flavorful cuts.
It also led to CAFOs (confined animal feeding operations) and the desire to squeeze an extra penny of profit out of each animal. Because of that, industrially produced meat is chock full of hormones and antibiotics. Animals are raised in inhumane and cramped conditions then forced to eat waste products from other animal productions, all of which breeds diseases like E.-coli, Salmonella, and mad cow disease. It’s not very appetizing no matter how good it smells on the grill.
And while my husband loves his meat, he (and I) can’t stomach all the yucky stuff that’s in industrial meat. We buy our meat from local farmers who raise their animals humanely and feed them only grass.
Grass-fed meat varies in a number of ways from what you find in the grocer store. It’s lower in fat and the fat it does have is better for you. It’s more flavorful and may take some getting used to if all you eat is bland supermarket fare. It’s also from older animals (if you pump an animal full of growth hormones and feed it on grain, it reaches market weight a lot sooner than if you just let it graze on pasture).
These distinctions mean you have to cook grass fed meat differently. It only took one experience of overcooking a steak into a tough, unappetizing disaster, before I knew it was time to learn more about what was happening when meat cooked. After all, when you pay a premium for good, clean meat, you want to make sure you cook it right every time.
I turned to the bible of cooking information, “On Food and Cooking” by Harold McGee, opened to the chapter on meat, and read all 50 pages like it was a spy novel (it really is that fascinating). I learned that the muscle of different animals tastes pretty much the same and it’s the fat that gives each animal it’s characteristic taste and smell (and that there is a molecule in pork that also gives coconut it’s characteristic taste, no wonder I find bacon irresistible).
I learned that the amount of use and the type of use each muscle (and therefore each cut of meat) withstood over an animal’s lifetime determined its tenderness or toughness.
And I learned that juiciness in meat occurs for two different reasons. The first is when tender meat is cooked to the perfect temperature where it just starts to release the water stored between its muscle fibers, as in a steak cooked rare. The second is when meat is slowly raised in temperature past the point when the collagen between the bundles of muscle fibers breaks down into gelatin creating a soft, chewable, and succulent structure, as in falling-off-the-bone lamb shanks.
But most importantly, I learned how to use my newfound knowledge to perfectly cook grass-fed meat.
I was most interested in perfecting the cooking of tender cuts of meat on the grill. These are Jon’s favorites and include chops, breasts, sirloin, t-bone and tenderloin. According to McGee, the key is to aim for an internal temperature of no more than 140F when the meat is served, without completely overcooking the outside (140F is the temperature where the muscle fibers give up all their moisture, resulting in that dreaded dried out $20 steak).
This is easier said than done. You want to brown the meat with high heat to produce a plethora of aromatic compounds that only happen when the meat is browned, but you don’t want to heat it so much that the internal temperature gets too high and squeezes out all the moisture. You also need to remember that meat will continue to cook after it’s removed from the heat. How much it continues to cook depends on the thickness, the fat content, the starting temperature and the surface treatment.
There are several ways to wrangle all of these variables into the perfectly cooked steak. Starting with a piece of meat that is at least at room temperature minimizes the length of time it takes the interior to reach 140F and minimized the chance of overcooking the outside.
Another trick is to cook the meat at two different temperatures. Place the meat on hot coals to start but make sure there is a section of your grill that is cooler. Flip the meat after a minute or so, just to brown it well on both sides, then move it to the cooler location. Continue to flip it regularly and check for doneness by touch. Brushing the meat with a water based marinade can also help keep the outside cool through evaporation.
A rare piece of meat, when poked with your finger, feels like the muscle between your thumb and forefinger when your fingers are slightly stretched apart (now you know if you are ever at our house and Jon directs me to go poke the meat it’s not some sexually deviant behavior). To me, this is meat at its most perfect, but if you like your meat medium rare, your poke should feel like that thumb muscle when your thumb and finger are squeezed together. When your poke feels right, by all means, take it off the grill immediately. Meat can go from perfect to well-done in a blink of an eye. And if you are in doubt, it will not ruin the meat to cut in and take a look inside.
Dealing with tougher cuts of meat requires a whole different approach. To create moist, tender meat from the cuts that saw the most exercise in their animal form requires slow cooking past 160F. This is the temperature when the collagen begins to convert to gelatin and the muscle fibers begin to separate. It’s also past the point where the muscles give up their moisture making it much more likely that it will be dry if not cooked right.
The slower the meat is brought up to temperature the more tender it will be. Adding moisture to replace the moisture lost from the muscle itself keeps the meat juicy. Several cooking methods help to achieve these two goals. Traditional barbeque, where the meat is cooked all day with indirect heat that never gets above 250F and is slathered in sauce the whole time is a perfect example. Roasts that are cooked in a 250F or lower oven for hours come out quite tasty especially if they are basted occasionally. Cooking the meat slowly in some type of liquid by such methods as braising, poaching or stewing infused the meat not only with moisture but with the flavor of the cooking liquid. All of these slow cooking methods benefit from a quick browning before they start their slow journey to tenderness, not because it seals in the juices as we’ve all been led to believe at one time or another, but to bring out those browning aromas that only occur at high temperatures. Letting the meat “rest” and come down to 120F will actually increase the moistness of the meat and improve the texture. This can take up to an hour and is not optional if you want to serve up perfection.
We’ve been applying all this new knowledge to grilling but haven’t yet tried it out with slow cooking. I’ve got a brisket thawing for this weekend to see if I can make my mom’s brisket recipe as good as she does. I’ll keep you posted.

Mom’s Brisket
serves 4 with lots of leftovers

2 tbls oil
1 brisket (4-5lb)
1 onion, sliced
3 carrots, cut into 1 inch pieces
1+ cup Ketchup (I like to use enough to cover the meat)
1 cup Red Wine (or more if needed)
Salt and Pepper to taste

Rinse off the brisket and pat dry. In a large pot with a lid, heat the oil over high heat. Quickly brown the meat on all sides. Remove the pot from the heat and add the remaining ingredients. Place the pot over very low heat and cover. Cook for at least two hours or until the internal temperature reaches 120F, turning occasionally. Raise the temperature to medium low, so that the liquids are barely simmering and continue cooking and turning for another hour. If the moisture evaporates, add more wine or water. After the additional hour, start checking for doneness every half hour. The meat is done when a fork pierces it easily. Remove from heat and allow it to cool to 120F. Remove the meat, slice it across the grain, and return it to the pot. Serve immediately.

A Few of Our Favorite Things

2010-03-29T20:17:00.001-07:00

For the past 5 years, my friends and I have spent the last weekend in March having a grand time at a monastery (an odd combination considering only two of my friends are practicing Catholics and more than that are staunch atheists). The Monastery of St. Gertrude’s in Cottonwood, Idaho is set on a hill overlooking the Camas Prairie and is home to about 50 Benedictine nuns. They are “committed to fostering Healing Hospitality, Grateful Simplicity and Creative Peacemaking in the world”. The nuns I have met are kind and seem genuinely happy to welcome us to their home. I’m sure in their own way they, too, are having a grand time, we’re just not having them together.
Instead, our fun happens across the street from the imposing main brick building in an old farm house that sleeps fifteen. This year there were thirteen of us. We are all handspinners and we all used to live in Moscow (two of us are no longer Moscow residents). We call ourselves The Hog Heaven Handspinners. The group that is still in Moscow meets once a week to spin, knit, chat, eat, and drink. Some iteration of the group has been doing that every week for the last twenty years.
Five years ago we decided that once a week was not quite enough time to get our fill of those activities, so once a year we head down to the monastery to spend a weekend together. We arrive with armloads of fiber, spinning wheels, snacks, booze, and knitting projects.
We each claim a spot in the big living room, with glorious views of the prairie and the mountain ranges beyond, and get down to the business of making stuff. While we create, we talk, eat, and drink. The kitchen counter is covered with tempting treats ranging from a healthy bowl of fresh fruit to a not so healthy bowl of candy. Part of the counter looks like a wine store and the refrigerator is packed with beer, cheese, veggies and other delicacies.
Time has little meaning; we graze all day and start drinking with a dash of homemade Irish Cream in our morning coffee. Some of us will join the nuns in their dining hall for a meal or two, which is always homey and satisfying (and with some of the best homemade pickles I’ve ever eaten), but most of the time we can’t be torn away from our work and our talk.
There is no topic of conversation that hasn’t been touched on at one of our retreats. But besides fiber, the one topic we can always count on discussing is food. We discuss what we’ll snack on next, how delicious everything we made is, and how we really shouldn’t be eating so much of it, but oh well, it’s only for one weekend. I counted on this topic being brought up this year because I knew I’d have to come home from the retreat and write this article. I was hoping to get some good input from my friends.
As I drove down to Cottonwood, I came up with a few questions that might spur an idea for an article. What is your definition of good food? What’s your favorite food? What’s your favorite comfort food? None of them seemed quite right so when I broke out my laptop and begged everyone to help me with my article I wasn’t really sure where I was going to lead them. I started with “What’s your favorite food?” I got a few immediate responses. Sarah S. said “toast” right away and Jane followed with “fish soup.” Everyone else just stared at their spinning wheels or knitting needles. Then Rochelle came to my rescue.
Now before I tell you what she said, I have to explain something about Rochelle. She likes to think about stuff (a lot). She looks at her choices from every angle before she makes a decision. She contemplates every possible outcome, both the possible and the seemingly impossible. She frets about things I’ve never even thought about. Oh yeah, and she reads lots of fairytales.
So it was completely in keeping with her personality when, instead of answering my question, she said she had thought deeply about what she would choose if an evil genie told her she could only taste five flavors for the rest of her life. She had narrowed it down to “avocados, bacon, blackberries, milk chocolate, and garlic.”
I tried to come up with just 5 flavors that I could live with for the rest of my life and my list consisted of cheese, bread, wine, chocolate, and huckleberries. Then I started going around the room. Sarah S. said “toast, rice, apples, cheese and lettuce.” Jane said “chocolate, coconut, mango, blue cheese, and fish soup.” I paused in my typing. How could I have forgotten coconut from my list? It’s one of my favorites. I added it. Nancie said “roasted almonds, dark chocolate, red wine, toast, and curry.” Andrea said “coffee, wine, chocolates, greens, and cheese.” Robin insisted on corn, chocolate, wine, olives, watercress. Oh corn, I thought, I love corn. I can’t live without that? It went on the list.
Nicole said “bagettes, brie, Sungold cherry tomatoes, and green beans.” Sarah W’s list was black beans, garlic, tomatoes, avocado, and corn. Ivy piped in with “arugula, peaches, bread, coffee, chocolate.” Arugula is one of my favorites; it had to be on my list, too.
Amy started off her list definitively with sourdough waffles then added cheese, oranges, crab, and Caprese salad (she said this knowing full well that Caprese salad was composed of tomatoes, fresh mozzarella and basil, but I gave it to her and admired the way she got those extra flavors into one item). Laura said she had to have salt, garlic, olives, bread, and coffee with cream and sugar (she could live without black coffee). Then finally Sandy came up with chocolate, coffee, eggs, pork, pasta. At the mention of eggs, Nancie wanted to add poached eggs to her list and then Laura started weighing whether it was bread or pasta that she wanted to keep on her list. Meanwhile I had added beer to my list which was now well over five items long.The conversation devolved into blissful descriptions of all the foods and flavors we love. Our lists got longer and we gloried in the fact that we could eat all of our favorite foods without fear and came to the moral of our story: everyone should be happy that there are no evil genies.

Irish Cream
makes about 1 liter
I originally got this recipe from Robin (of corn, chocolate, wine, olive and watercress fame). I’ve brought it to retreat for the last two years. This year it was only thanks to Rochelle that I remembered. It’s great straight and it’s really wonderful in coffee on weekend mornings.

1 can sweetened condensed milk
1 c. Irish whiskey
2 raw eggs (I always use fresh local eggs and haven’t died from it yet)
1 c. heavy cream
2 T. chocolate syrup
2 t. coconut extract
1 t. vanilla extract

Place all ingredients in a blender. Blend until well combined. Pour into bottles and keep refrigerated. Keeps for at least a month.

Industrial Food is Not My Friend

2010-03-17T08:04:00.000-07:00

I’m on the board of directors of an organization called Provender Alliance. The purpose of the organization is to educate and inspire our members about healthy food and products. We serve all aspects of the Natural Food Industry: retailers, manufacturers, distributors, and to some extent farmers and consumers. We put on a yearly conference of workshops and speakers.
This year our keynote speaker is Raj Patel. His name sounded familiar when it first came up as a possibility. A quick internet check revealed that he was quite good looking and had a lovely English accent (check out his website and you'll see what I mean). Aside from those two very important facts, I learned he had recently written two books: Stuffed and Starved; The Hidden Battle for the World Food System and The Value of Nothing; How to Reshape Market Society and Redefine Democracy.
When we got word that he was going to be our keynote speaker, I immediately got on the Sandpoint Library website to see if his books were available. I put a hold on both of them and, of course, they both came in at the same time and I had only two weeks to read them. I’ve been trying to read both of them simultaneously, which, it turns out, isn’t too hard. The concepts in both books overlap nicely and they both deal with a subject that is near and dear to my heart: the myth of cheap food, why it exists, the harm it does, and what we can do about it.
Cheap food (or as Patel calls it “cheat food”) is neither cheap nor food and Patel posits that multinational corporations are at the heart of the problem.
Here’s why: If you look at a picture of the distribution chain that gets food from a farm to our plates it’s shaped like an hourglass. At the wide top are lots farm operators and workers. There are a few less farm owners and suppliers, and, at the waist of the hourglass, quite a few less raw product wholesalers and distributors. The glass widens with manufacturers and finished product wholesalers. The base of the glass is the grocery stores and consumers.
The narrow waist is where the problem lies. That is where power is concentrated and where decisions about how much the farmers get paid and how much we pay for food are made. In the US there are 4 major meatpackers which account for 80% of all the meat sold. The top four flour millers control 60% of that market and recent consolidations of the grocery business means that the top 4 companies control almost 50% of that market. You need a lot of capitol investment in infrastructure to be a grain miller or meatpacker and transport your goods across the globe. It’s hard for the little guy to compete let alone get a foot in the door.
These companies are in the business to make money. It’s part of what it means to be a corporation. They are legally liable to their stockholders to make a profit. If feeding cattle poultry litter and packing them in to the smallest lots possible can eek out a few more pennies of profit then they must do it or be sued by their stockholders. They might want to treat their animals better. They might want to pay farmers what it cost to grow grain and pay slaughterhouse workers a decent wage. They may even want to sell you a burger that has no possibility of e-coli contamination because it wasn’t mixed up with the meat from thousands of different animals. But all these things cost more so they don’t do them.
Industrial food corporations also like to externalize their costs. They don’t pay for the environmental damage they do. They get subsides from us, the tax-payer, in the form of social programs like Medicaid and food stamps for their underpaid workers. Much of the crops used in industrial food production are also subsidized by our tax dollars. In one study, if all these external costs were accounted for in the price of a Big Mac, it would cost over $200.
As government money for education falls, corporations have been there to fund university research, making sure that research turns out in favor of the existing system. And they use a hefty amount of their profit to lobby the government to make sure laws are not changes to adversely affect them. In 5 years, food system industries spent over $400 million lobbying the government.
Concentrating the power of our food system in just a few corporations limits our choice as consumers. Choosing between Coke and Pepsi isn’t really a choice. With giant corporations buying up organic companies and using their political muscle to water down the organic standards, we don’t even have much of a choice between non-organic and organic processed foods (although it is still better for the planet not to have all the pesticides and herbicides that are used in non-organic food). If we have only a few dollars to spend on food, our choice can’t be between fresh fruit or candy. We can get hundreds of more calories per dollar if we go with the candy but only because the industry lobbies the government to keep subsides high on the ingredients that go into candy and not to support fresh foods. Someone else can pay for the negative effects on our health from eating a diet of cheap food.
Processed foods bear little resemblance to real food but make a hefty profit for the corporations that produce them. They require little effort on our part to consume which leaves us plenty of time to sit in front of the tv and be bombarded with advertisements for cheap processed food.
Cheap food has been around in some form or another for centuries. It has been used by the rich to pacify the poor and keep them from revolting. It has been grown and processed with slave labor. It has impoverished communities in the global south. But until recently, cheap food was at least food and we spent time preparing it.
Our habit and culture of wanting cheap food fast is a relatively new one and one that might not take much to change. There are alternatives to industrial food. We can stop paying into a system that is broken, that appears cheap but that is costing us dearly.
Paying attention and caring where your food comes from is a habit we will all benefit from. When you really start to think about what’s in your food and what it costs society, the alternatives to the industrial food system seem worth the little extra up front cost and effort.
And the alternatives are out there right now in our community. Locally grown food is a great way to cut out the corporate middleman. Growing some of your own food is a satisfying way to feed yourself and your family. Cooking at home with low cost bulk ingredients is healthier and more economical. They say changing a habit takes a month, why not start now?

Vicki Reich lives and rants in Sagle, ID. She is the Market Manager for sixriversmarket.org, where you can get local food, unsullied by multinational corporations, year round.

Local Potatoes au Gratin
Serves 4
It’s hard to find too much local food this time of year except for potatoes. Try this recipe with all the different varieties of potatoes that are still available. You can even mix and match purple and white potatoes in this dish for a colorful change of pace.

3 lbs. Local Potatoes (medium to large)
¼ c. Local Raw Milk Cheddar Cheese (from Cindy’s Curds and Whey), grated
2 Local farm eggs
1 c. Milk
Salt and Pepper to taste
Butter (optional)

Preheat oven to 350F.
Slice potatoes in half and place in a sauce pan (you can peel them if you like, but they are more nutritious if you don’t). Cover with water and bring to a boil. Cook until just beginning to soften. Drain and run under cold water.
When the potatoes are cool enough to handle, slice into ¼” slices. Mix together the eggs, milk, salt and pepper.
Grease a gratin pan, or shallow baking dish, with butter or cooking spray. Sprinkle half the cheese over the bottom of the pan. Layer the potatoes over the cheese. Pour the milk and egg mixture over the potatoes and cover with the rest of the cheese. Dot with some butter if you like.
Bake for 45 minutes or until the liquid is set and the top is nicely browned.

Simplicity in a Noodle

2010-02-16T17:45:00.000-08:00

It never ceases to amaze me that the most delicious and eye-appealing food can be made from the simplest ingredients. Fresh tomato slices with mozzarella cheese and bits of fresh basil makes my mouth water (and wish it was summer already; enough with the everlasting cold rain). Egg whites whipped to peaks with a bit of sugar then baked to golden brown goodness make melt-in your-mouth meringues come to mind. But the simplest and most versatile combination of ingredients I can think of is flour and water.
Mix flour and water together and let it sit around for a day or two and you can bake it into bread. Roll the dough out into a disc and you can fry it into flat breads. Roll it out even thinner, cut it into any shape that suits your fancy, throw it in some boiling water for a few minutes, and you’ve got pasta.
Pasta, noodles, mein, itriya, or whatever you want to call it, is a simple food with endless possibilities.
Before I go into the history and chemistry of pasta, I’ve got to clear up some terminology. Noodle, which derives from the German word nudel, is used to describe strips or shapes of unleavened dough made from any ingredient. Pasta, on the other hand, is very specific about its ingredients. Pasta is a noodle that must be made from wheat. And in Italy, from whence the name derives, pasta must be made from durum wheat
Now that that’s all cleared up, let’s move on.
Noodles were invented at least 2000 years ago. There is still heated debate about which region developed them first: China, Italy or the Middle East. China seems to be ahead in the race and the fairly recent discovery of intact 4000 year old millet noodles clinched the deal for me. The Chinese were also the first to invent filled noodles and have perfected the technique of making glass-like noodles out of pure starch.
Although it is possible to make noodles out of any starch or grain, as evidenced by those very old millet noodles, wheat is the preferred base ingredient. Any type of wheat will make pasta but durum wheat has some distinct chemical advantages.
Durum wheat is high in gluten content and that gluten is less elastic than wheat used to make bread. The gluten protein is necessary to create the cohesiveness needed to bond the flour together and yet let it retain some flexibility to be rolled and stretched into all those wonderful shapes. Because durum wheat is less elastic, the dough doesn’t fight back as much (and those of you who have ever rolled out bread dough only to have it spring back to its original shape once you stop rolling know what I’m talking about). This allows the dough to be rolled into long thin sheets with a bit more ease.
The process of making pasta is relatively easy. The flour and water are combined, kneaded for a bit to form a stiff dough and then allowed to rest. During this rest period, water is absorbed into the flour and the gluten network begins to form. The dough is then repeatedly rolled out, expelling air bubbles and aligning and elongating the protein fibers. The dough is then cut or extruded into the desired shape.
When the pasta hits the boiling water, the well organized protein network begins to break down and water is absorbed into the structure. The starch molecules within the protein matrix begin to swell, and some of the starch is released into the water. The outer layer absorbs water and becomes soft while the inner layer stays a bit firmer. These days pasta is considered done or al dente just before the inner layer begins to absorb water (our crazy ancestors cooked it for up to an hour).
Although cooking the pasta seems like the most straightforward part of the process, there is heated debate about the right way to do it. Most cookbooks advise you to use a large pot with boiling water equal to ten times the weight of the pasta you are cooking. This allows plenty of water for the pasta to absorb, with some left over to dilute the starch it releases. Adding salt can reduce the amount of starch lost to the water and prevent stickiness as can adding some type of acid. Oil is added to prevent the individual strands from sticking together but this can be done by making sure to stir the noodles for the first few minute of cooking.
Recently I’ve throw all that advise out the window and I’ve been cooking my pasta in just enough salted water to cover the noodles. I start out with cold water and bring water and noodles to a boil together. The results taste just like pasta albeit a bit more starchy (which you don’t notice once it’s tossed with sauce) and I cut the cooking time in half and save all that water and energy (I must give credit to my food chemistry idol, Harold McGee, for questioning the age old tradition of all that water).
Although I love the simplicity of pasta, it’s the endless variations it offers that fascinate me. Sure you can mix flour and water together, roll it out and cut it into strips and call it pasta. But you can also add eggs or herbs or squid ink to change its consistency, flavor and color. You can wrap it around a meat or cheese filling and form it into a triangle, a half moon, a tube, or a purse. You can extrude it through a die into simple spaghetti or complex little noodles shaped like radiators or wagon wheels. You can make it and dry it to store for a year or you can toss it directly in the pot and have dinner ready in minutes. And then there are the endless varieties of sauce you can top it all with… I guess it’s not really all that simple.

Fresh Egg Pasta
enough for two generous portions

Pasta:
6 oz. all purpose flour
2 eggs, lightly beaten

Sauce:
3 T butter
1 clove garlic, finely chopped
1 T. chopped fresh herbs (oregano, basil, thyme, and sage all work well)

Place the flour in a large bowl. Make a well in the center and add the egg. Gradually stir the flour into the egg. Once the flour is all incorporated, turn the dough out onto the counter and kneed until the dough is smooth. Let it rest covered for 10 minutes.
Divide the dough into small balls, about 3 inches in diameter. Working one at a time and keeping the other balls covered, roll out the dough on a floured work surface with a rolling pin or pasta rolling machine. Keep the dough well floured to prevent sticking. When the dough is as thin as you can get it or on the last setting of the rolling machine, cut it into the desired shape and set on a rack while you roll and cut the remaining dough.
Bring a large pot of salted water to boil. Add the pasta and cook for about 5 minutes or until done.
Meanwhile, heat the butter in a small saucepan over medium heat. When the foam subsides, add the garlic and cook until softened and fragrant.
Drain the pasta and return it to the pot. Add the melted garlic butter and chopped herbs. Toss and serve.

Breakfast of World Champions

2010-02-01T20:43:00.000-08:00

Everyone has heard the admonition to make sure to eat a good breakfast. Breakfast refuels your body after a night of fasting and helps your brain and your body get through the first part of the day. There are tons of studies out there to show all the good things eating breakfast can do for you, but my question is: Why in the world would you want to skip breakfast? It’s the best meal of the day.
At our house, breakfast rules. On the weekend we (well, mostly Jon) spend at least an hour putting together something supremely delicious. It might be omelets, home fries, and breakfast sausage (all from local ingredients thanks to Heritage Farms, Vern’s Veggies, and Cascade Creek, without whom breakfast wouldn’t be the same) or huckleberry pancakes or waffles made from yeasted batter left to sit overnight and develop into a delectable and complex flavor. Occasionally, I’ll get a hankering to bake and we’ll have hot biscuits or scones.
There’s always lots of hot coffee and tea (with homemade Irish Crème added if we’re feeling particularly decadent) and on special occasions we get out the juicer and make fresh squeezed Mimosas.
Weekday breakfasts are equally delicious, if a bit pared down. Oatmeal with huckleberries, scrambled eggs on homemade toast, grits with fried eggs and hot sauce, yogurt with fresh made granola and berries are a few of the regulars. My less traditional favorites are leftovers from pizza night or cold spaghetti (I know it sounds weird but don’t knock it till you try it).
This weekend, as I polished off my plate of eggs, potatoes and sausage, I felt quite sure that this was not what everyone in the world considered a perfect breakfast. Other cultures must have equally delicious but foreign fare for their first meal of the day. Maybe I was missing out on something I should try.
After the dishes were washed (the price I pay for having someone cook me a gourmet breakfast in my own home every weekend), I sat down with my second cup of tea and searched the internet to find out what people from different cultures and continents eat for their most important meal of the day.
One of my first discoveries and a new addition to my list of must eats for breakfast was a type of rice soaked in coconut cream and steamed. Nasi lemak is the national dish of Malaysia and is served with various accompaniments including dried anchovies in a spicy sambal sauce, roasted peanuts, and hard boiled eggs. It’s served anytime of the day but is traditionally a breakfast food.
Rice is a predominant theme in Asian breakfasts, with each country and region adding its own twist. Some use last night’s leftovers for the base of the morning meal, others cook the rice to a porridge consistency, and most add ingredients we Westerners would consider “wrong” for breakfast like dried and salted fish (although we do like our smoked salmon) and lots of spicy chilies.
There are also a wide array of delicious sounding breads and noodles served for breakfast across Asia. These are accompanied by stuff you just don’t see on a breakfast plate north Idaho, like pickled vegetables, preserved eggs, dried fish, and spicy curries.
Middle Eastern breakfasts vary as much as Asian ones but there are some common themes. Yogurt and cheeses are eaten along with various flatbreads. Olives, olive oil, tomatoes, and some type of bean dish often augment the bread and cheese. The most interesting Middle Eastern dish I came across was from Iran. Called halim and eaten in the early morning, it’s a wheat porridge cooked with either poultry, lamb or beef. What got my attention is that it is served with cinnamon, butter and sugar; not your typical breakfast combo. At first I couldn’t see how those flavors would combine well, but as I read through some recipes I could see the appeal.
African breakfasts take their influence from either the Middle East or Europe depending on what part of the continent you are in. Northern African breakfasts rely on flat breads (mostly made from millet or sorghum, not wheat) with fish, beans, yogurt and spices for accompaniments. South African breakfast is heavily influenced by its colonizers and features eggs, bread and meat with an unfortunate emphasis on sugary breakfast cereal from multi-national corporations. In poor areas, porridge of cassava, millet, and rice are common along with whatever fruit is in season.
Although coffee is not native to South and Central America, it took to the soils there and flourished. It also became part of the breakfast culture and everything I read about Latin American breakfast begins with a cup of strong coffee or hot chocolate (which I’m guessing is what coffee replaced when it was introduced). Besides coffee, there is no overriding theme. Breads and jam and fruit juice are popular and well as tortillas and different types of porridge or beans. One of my favorite breakfast foods, huevos rancheros, is more traditionally a mid-morning meal, not something you’d break your fast with.
European breakfasts come the closest to what many of us are used to. Breads with butter and jam, sweet pastries, sausages and cured meats, cheeses, and fruit juices abound. Eggs are not as prevalent but the varieties of bread products more than makes up for it. And, of course, there are infinite ways to get your caffeine fix; the Italians did invent the latte after all.
After all my research over the weekend, I woke up this morning thinking about coconut rice and spicy sauces but I had to get to my computer to write this article so I made due with leftovers. Oh well, maybe we’ll have breakfast for dinner tonight to make up for it.

Breakfast Bars
Even though this recipe has nothing to do with international breakfasts and is a totally Americanized idea of the meal, I made them this weekend and they are mighty tasty.
Adapted from Eating Well Magazine

1 c rolled oats
1/4 c chopped nuts (I used almonds)
¼ c wide chip unsweetened coconut
3 T mixed seeds (I used flax and black sesame seeds)
1 c puffed cereal (I used puffed millet
1 c chopped dried fruit (I used apricots and raisins)
¼ c creamy nut butter (I used peanut butter and tahini)
¼ c sugar
¼ c honey
½ t vanilla extract
Pinch of salt

Coat a 8”x8” baking pan with cooking spray.
Mix oats, nuts, coconut and seeds together on a baking sheet. Toast in a 350F oven for 10 minutes or until lightly toasted, shaking pan occasionally. Transfer to a large bowl and add cereal and dried fruit.
In a small saucepan over medium heat, combine the nut butter, sugar, honey, vanilla and salt. Stir frequently and heat until the mixture begins to bubble.
Pour hot mixture over grain mixture and stir with a spatula until well combined and no dry bits remain. This takes some doing and under no circumstance should you try and mix it with your hands. The stuff is really hot (I know this from experience). Pour mixture into prepared pan and press down to make an even layer. Allow to cool and firm up. Cut into 8 bars.

The finished Breakfast Bars.
They taste way better than this picture makes them look.

Ratios and My Love of Michael Ruhlman

2010-01-20T07:43:00.000-08:00

Michael Ruhlman is one of my food world heroes. He won my heart when he subjected himself to the intense life of the Culinary Arts Institute (the top chef school in the country) just so he could write a book about it (The Making of a Chef). He had no plans to become a star chef and make millions. I’m not even sure if he had a book deal before he enrolled. He paid his way through the CIA because he loved to cook and wanted to learn more about cooking for himself and his family.
He then went on to write a bunch more amazing books about chefs and food, including Soul of a Chef, a fast paced, non-fiction page turner about three chefs and how they strive for greatness in the food they prepare. He’s written the prose for celebrity chef cookbooks which contain recipes that would scare off most casual cooks, but he’s also written books that make seemingly impossible to prepare at home techniques, like charcuterie, approachable to anyone who is willing to invest the time to try.
I just got his latest book, Ratio, from the library. It’s all about the ratios that make certain foods what we expect them to be. For example, bread is made with a ratio of 5 parts flour to 3 parts water by weight. Yes, you need to add yeast and a bit of salt, and you’ll have to knead it and let it rise, but as long as the ratio between flour and water is 5:3, you’ll get bread.
For a cook with just a bit of experience, the idea behind ratios is freeing. You don’t need to look up a recipe for every bread you want to make and you don’t need to be tied to specific batch sizes. If you want to make a few rolls for dinner you can weigh out what seems like enough flour and then add the correct ratio of water plus a bit of yeast and salt. Throw in some chopped olives and rosemary towards the end of the kneading process and you’ll have fresh baked bread with just the flavors you were craving.
Ruhlman doesn’t just explain the ratio for bread, he has ratios for every type of dough and batter you can think of plus all the little extra information you’ll need to make the ratio work.
Who knew that you could free yourself from cookbooks by just remembering 1-2-3 or 3-2-1 (the first is for cookie dough (1 part sugar, 2 parts fat, 3 parts flour) and the second is for pie crust (3 parts flour, 2 parts fat, 1 part liquid))? Could it really be that simple?
By the time I got to the second chapter of the book and was reading about pasta dough I had to give it a try. Out came my kitchen scale, a bowl, some flour and a couple of eggs. The dough was ready in a jiffy and rolled out through my pasta machine like a dream. It made amazing ravioli (and because everything was weighed into one bowl, there were hardly any dishes!).
I was beginning to feel untethered from my cookbooks but before I got all crazy and swore off them for good (an idea I’d never even considered when it came to baking), I thought I should try a baking ratio to make sure the pasta wasn’t a fluke.
Does anyone need an excuse to make cookies? I don’t, so out came my scale and mixer. I looked through my cabinets to see what ingredients sounded like they’d enhance my basic 1-2-3 cookie. I immediately got stuck on the idea of pistachios, finely chopped and coating the outside of the cookie. Then I began searching for something I could add to the dough that would go well with pistachios. Orange rind sounded like a good pairing. Ruhlman had gotten my creative juices flowing and I wasn’t concerned whether pistachios and orange zest went together in someone else’s cookies, they were going together in mine.
I put the mixing bowl on the scale and added 2 ounces of sugar and 4 ounces of butter. The weight of the butter was the deciding factor in how big a batch I would make. This was an experiment and I didn’t want to be stuck with dozens of not-so-great cookies. A stick of butter weighs 4 ounces so I went from there.
Once the butter and sugar were creamed together, I grated some orange rind into the bowl and mixed it in. I placed the bowl back on the scale and added 6 ounces of flour (and a splash of cream that needed to be used up). I mixed it all up until it held together and rolled it into 1” balls. I rolled the balls in the chopped pistachios and flattened them onto a baking sheet. After 12 minutes in a 375F oven, they looked just like cookies. And they were delicious; so delicious that I had to physically restrain myself from eating them all.
The dough of the 1-2-3 cookie was a bit dry. Unlike a drop cookie recipe that leans more towards a batter consistency, it required some work to compact it into balls. The results were tender and flaky and not at all chewy.
Ruhlman first gives the basics of how to put the key ingredients together then goes on to tell us how to make all kinds of additions and changes to the ratio and what the results will be. I felt confident that I could turn my shortbread-like cookies into chewy chocolate chip cookies with ease (but managed to control myself from actually making another batch of the tempting little devils).
He also makes it clear what the connections are between the different doughs and batters so you can begin to see the link between each one and how they relate to each other. As he says: “It’s all one thing” and by understanding that you are free to experiment.
I am now officially hooked on ratios and I haven’t even finished reading the book. There are still ratios for custards, stocks, sauces, and sausages to explore. I feel like I’ve been let in on a special secret and it’s liberating and exciting and I can’t wait to get back in my kitchen and cook. Thanks Michael.

Beer Making Nirvana

2010-01-04T18:15:00.000-08:00

I’m tired of food. I’m tired of thinking about it. I’m tired of cooking it. And I’m tired of eating it. The holidays, and the plethora of food that surrounds them, will do that to a person (even someone like me, who loves to think about, cook and eat food).
When I thought about what I wanted to write in this column, I got this stuffed, “I ate too much” feeling. I couldn’t think of anything to tempt my palate, and if my palate wasn’t tempted, how could I presume to tempt yours?
One thing I did notice over the holidays, after eating heaps of delicious roast meats and perfectly cooked veggies, after my second helping of some decadently sweet concoction, and when my belt had been loosened just a tad, there was always a little bit of room left for that last sip of good beer.
I never seem to get tired of good micro-brewed beer and lucky for me, we live in a part of the country where micro-breweries are sprouting up like weeds and there are always new and exciting beers to explore.
My husband, Jon, and I enjoy sharing a good beer together almost every night. You could say we’re a bit obsessed with beer. We’ve traveled to Portland for beer festivals (the Winter Ale Fest was amazing) and we look for local breweries in every town and city we visit. We have a beer bottle collection that threatens to take over the house and the growler collection is on the brink of getting out of hand.
For at least a year, and maybe more like three, we’ve been kicking around the idea of making our own beer. We’ve obviously talked about it long enough for Jon’s two sons to get sick of hearing about our dreams of home-brewing and do something about it. They bought us a home-brewing kit for Christmas. We were like two little kids on Christmas Day. All we could talk about was what we would brew first.
The kit included all the equipment we would need to brew our first batch but not the ingredients. For that we needed to make a trip to Jim’s Home Brew Supplies in Spokane. We’d been to Jim’s before to fawn over the beer-making kits and buy unusual and delicious beers from around the world. This time we were slightly out of our element. We knew we wanted ingredients to make something delicious but where to start? We didn’t need to worry. The folks at Jim’s knew what they were doing (they’ve been selling homebrew supplies since 1955) and weren’t afraid to share what they knew. We left with ingredients to make three different batches of beer and big smiles on our faces.
The boxes of ingredients sat on the counter in the kitchen for a few days, filling the room with the smell of hops and tempting us to throw all our chores and family obligations to the wind. In bed at night, we quickly read through the first section of the home-brewing bible, “The Complete Joy of Home Brewing” by Charlie Papazian. By the time we got to the end of the first section, we felt like we were ready to brew our first beers (it didn’t hurt that every other sentence in the book ends with “relax, don’t worry, have a homebrew”)
Last Saturday morning dawned dark and cold and dreary (like so many of the days lately). It was the perfect day to brew. After fueling up with one of Jon’s famous breakfasts, we got out our pot and our carboy and had to make the first big decision of the day. Which of the three types of beer for which we had ingredients would we brew first? We had the makings for a Scottish Ale, an IPA and a Porter. We looked at each other and both said Scottish at the same time. It was decided.
Mr. Papazian is right, brewing beer isn’t that complicated (at least so far). We boiled up all the ingredients in the order and length of time the recipe called for. We sanitized all of our equipment and carefully measured temperatures. We had a great time (even if it was only 11 in the morning and we didn’t succumb to Charlie’s insistent pleas to have a homebrew).
We had to wait a few hours for our wort (the liquid we created that will eventually ferment into, we hope, delectable beer) to cool enough to “pitch the yeast” (basically adding yeast to the wort but we are well on our way to becoming brewing geeks).
Once the yeast is added the magic begins. Who needs TV when you can sit next to your carboy and watch the bubbles rise up through your beer? There was some serious action happening in that big glass bottle. Foam began to escape from the blow out tube. The beer seemed to be speaking to us in this blub, blub, blub voice. It was fascinating.
After three days, the action has died down somewhat. The fermentation lock is still bubbling away but the foam has subsided. Now comes the hardest part of beer making, waiting. It will be at least a week before we can bottle the beer and then at least another week before it is ready to drink. Sure, we can have a little taste to see if it’s turning out okay while we bottle, but we won’t get the full effect until the end of the month. At the moment, that seems like forever.

Long Lost Socks

2010-01-04T16:50:00.000-08:00

I'm knitting squeaky yarn. I'm knitting squeaky yarn on size 1 needles, I'm knitting squeaky yarn that is older than me (I'm 43) and likes to break if you look at it wrong. I'm knitting squeaky yarn as an act of love.
Several months ago, when I was back in New Jersey, my mom and I were looking through her old knitting yarn. She doesn't knit much anymore and when she does she'd rather buy something new and more fashionable. I thought I could use some of her old yarn in my weaving so I snatched them up.
At the bottom of her knitting basket was a beautiful cloisonne tin (well, not real cloisonne but beautiful and cool-looking nonetheless). Inside was one finished green and white sock and the cuff of its mate with the needles still in the unfinished stitches and enough yarn to finish it. Mom informed me that these were an attempt at a pair of socks that my aunt had been making for my dad when he was in college. My aunt was still in high school (and her signature on the bottom of the tin looks like a young girl's writing). This was all a very long time ago. I'm not sure when my aunt gave them to my mom to finish but I'm guessing that tin had been in her basket for a quite some time.
Always game for crazy projects and wanting to finish the socks in memory of my dad (who died more than 20 years ago), I told my mom I'd take them and see what I could do.
She wanted the tin; I told her it was a packaged deal.
Safely back in Idaho with the tin and the half finished socks, I got involved in a bunch of other knitting projects and never found the time to work on the socks. Then just the other day I pondered what to work on next and there was the tin, calling my name.
I sat down next to the wood stove and evaluated what I had gotten myself into. The first few moments were not good. The yarn broke every 5 minutes as I attempted to unknit back to a point where the yarn has some integrity. I also realized why my aunt had quit knitting. Her tension was so tight she must have gotten cramps in her hands from gripping her needles. She had knit on size 2; I needed to get out my size 1s just to come close to the same gauge.
Finally I found a section of yarn that hadn't degraded to nothingness over the years and I was able to knit rows at a time without any breaks. But the damn stuff squeaks. It's like rubbing packing peanuts together. But I'm learning to live with it.
Figuring out the heel without a pattern on a pair of 50 year old socks made me glad I'd gotten an engineering degree. Now that I'm past the heel I envision smooth sailing to the toe. The idea of finishing the pair doesn't seem so crazy anymore. Thinking about my dad and my aunt as I knit drowns out all that squeaking.

The Finished Pair

Want Some Candy Little Girl?

2009-12-21T20:14:00.000-08:00

I made chocolate caramels for holiday gifts yesterday. They turned out delicious; chewy and chocolaty, with hints of butter and rum, and the sea salt I sprinkled on top. This was my first batch of caramels. Well, to tell the truth, they were my second batch, the first batch was more like rock hard caramels that could pull fillings out without even trying, so I don’t count them.
I’m not sure what I did wrong the first time (although I knew things weren’t going well when I dropped my digital thermometer into the boiling hot sugar and had to guess at the temperature after that). I used a different recipe this time although the ingredients were basically the same. My new recipe had me bring the sugar mixture up to a certain temperature then add another ingredient, reheat, add more stuff and heat again. Maybe it was raising and lowering the temperature that made them turn out so delicious. Maybe it was more accurate temperature monitoring. Maybe it was just dumb luck.
Candy-making has always been a bit intimidating to me (and I’m someone who doesn’t get intimidated in the kitchen very often). It’s one of the few types of cooking that doesn’t have any wiggle room. If you cook a roast to 130F instead of 125F, you will still have a delicious piece of meat to serve; it will just be a bit more done. If you try making marshmallows and only heat the sugar to 235F instead of 240F, you will end up with a bowl of very sweet, very sticky soup (I know, I’ve done it). Candy making also seems like the kind of endeavor where you could seriously hurt yourself. Pouring boiling hot sugar that can reach 300F from one pan to another is a scary proposition.
But candy is fun and making it yourself is even more fun, so intimidation be damned. I just needed to get in there and get a few sugar burns. After one failed marshmallow experience (and a few successful ones) and a 50% failure rate on caramels, I figured it was time to learn what was actually happening on a molecular level with all that hot sugar. I turned to the one book where I knew I would find the answers, “On Food and Cooking” by Harold McGee.
It turns out that simple white table sugar isn’t so simple. Sucrose (what we know as table sugar) is a composite molecule of glucose (the most simple of sugars and the one from which all living cells extract energy) and fructose. Sucrose has properties that make it especially useful to candy making. Unlike glucose and fructose and other sugars, it has a pleasant taste in high concentrations. It is readily soluble in water, and it is the most viscous of any sugar and water solution.
Sugars are also very resilient molecules. They don’t easily break apart with heat or get damaged by oxidation like fats and they don’t coagulate or denature like proteins. Instead, they mix easily with water, tolerate high heat, and like to form into beautiful crystal structures.
When sugar molecules do begin to break apart at high heat, the odorless, colorless, simply sweet sugar begins to form hundreds of new and exciting compounds with aromas of butter and rum and fruit and colors of deep brown and caramel. In fact, the caramelization of sugar (heating it to the point when its molecules break apart) is where the flavor we know as caramel comes from.
I’d always thought that candy making had something to do with the molecular structure of sugar at different temperatures. I was wrong. Those resilient little sucrose molecules stay the same throughout most of the candy making temperature ranges and don’t begin to caramelize until 340F.
So what’s going on at those immutable temperatures in all those candy recipes? It turns out candy making is foremost about sugar concentration. Because raising the amount of sugar in water raises the boiling point of the water in a consistent way, those temperatures are the easiest way to measure the sugar concentration of a syrup. It is much easier than the way they used to do it before thermometers. Back in the 17th century, cooks would stick their finger in the boiling hot syrup, touch their thumb to the hot goop, pull their digits apart and see what structure resulted. Ouch!
Different consistencies of candy result from different sugar concentrations. Soft candies such as fudge and fondants are made at lower temperatures and lower concentrations. Chewier candies like caramel and marshmallows need somewhat higher concentrations and hard candies need to be almost 100% concentrations of sugar.
The other really important part of candy making is controlling how the sugar crystallizes as it cools (so I wasn’t completely wrong in thinking there was something happening at a molecular level; the molecules themselves don’t change, they just line up differently). Mr. McGee informs me that this is the trickiest part of candy making (and here I was all worried about temperature). If the sugar mixture forms a few large crystals, the texture will be coarse and grainy. If there are millions of tiny crystals and those are separated by just the right amount of uncrystallized syrup then the resulting candy will be smooth and creamy. If no crystals are allowed to form, you get sugar glass and hard candies.
Crystal formation is influenced by the rate of cooling (quick cooling results in fewer crystals), how much movement is introduced into the syrup (lots of stirring results in lots of tiny crystals and smooth creamy fudge and caramels), and whether any foreign particles or crystallized bits of sugar get into the mix (get one of those crystals from the side of your pan in the mix and you’re done for). Plus adding corn syrup helps slow crystallization down to a manageable level.
How does all this newfound chemistry knowledge help guarantee perfect caramels from here on out? I now know that the temperature isn’t as exact as I thought it was. I could raise the temperature anywhere from 240F to 250F and still have a chewy candy in the end. All that cream I added made the candy thick and rich and it was actually the lactose sugars that caramelized and created those buttery, caramel flavors. And all that stirring (even if it was a bit tedious and made my hand hurt) paid off in the tiny crystal structure and the resultant smooth creamy mouth feel. Plus I’m feeling so unintimidated, I might have to try my hand at fondants and hard candy next.

The One That Worked
(Chocolate Caramels from The All New Fannie Farmer Cookbook)

Weigh into a 6 qt heavy bottomed pan
10 oz. light corn syrup
4 oz. honey
1 lb sugar
4 oz. unsweetened chocolate

Add
¼ t. salt
1c. heavy cream

Cook over medium high heat, stirring constantly until a candy thermometer 244F (an instant read thermometer works but it’s not as convenient). Remove from heat. Add

1c. heavy cream

Cook again, stirring constantly, until the temperature reaches 236F. Add

1T. butter

Cook again, stirring constantly, until the temperature reaches 242F. Add
1t. vanilla

Pour into a buttered 8”x8” pan. Sprinkle with sea salt if you want. Allow to cool. Cut into bite-sized pieces and wrap individually in small squares of waxed paper.

The Stripper Model Nuptial Blanket

2009-11-25T08:39:00.000-08:00

I am about 6 months late in writing this post. With no deadlines for fiber related posts it's easy for them to fall by the wayside, but I was recently reminded that this blog is about food AND fiber, so where the heck did all the fiber go?
Two important things happened in the last six months, I got married and I found out I have some really sneaky friends. The wedding was wonderful and went off without a hitch, but I'm not going to talk about that. Instead, I want to post for all to see what 16 dear friends can do behind one's back in a mere 6 months.
Here is a photo of what those sneaky girls did: They call it the Stripper Model Nuptial Blanket because each of them knit a strip from yarn spun just for this purpose (from a fleece from Sarah Swett's stash) and then they sewed them together into the most amazing blanket EVER. (The Stripper Model deliniates it from other blankets and afghans the group has made by sewing together knit squares instead of strips. The Stripper Model is far superior and I am honored to have this first one)
I guess there was lots of talk about strippers and stripper names and other fun discussions that took place while they put this together, but I don't really know because they did it BEHIND MY BACK and I was totally clueless.
When they presented it to me a couple of weeks before my wedding, there was a moment or two when I thought they had gone out and bought it. I couldn't imagine why my uber-talented knitting and spinning friends would buy me a store-bought knit blanket or why they thought I wanted one. During those brief moments, staring done into the beautifully wrapped gift, I never considered the idea they made it just for me. I realized I was wrong. And then I started to cry.
As I cried and said how unworthy I was, I unwrapped it, spread it out and was in awe. These pictures don't do it justice. When you see it in person you can understand why there was that brief moment when I thought it was store bought. It is perfect.The blanket came with a book. It records for posterity the e-mail conversations that went on for months behind my back, including a brief scare when an e-mail mistakenly went out with my address included and I almost found out. The back side of the blanket has beautiful handmade tags so I'll always know who made which strip. Now that the weather has turned toward winter, I find myself wrapped up in it in front of the fire. It's warm and snuggly and it's like being wrapped up in the arms of my dear friends.
Thank you again Amy, Andrea,Carolyn, Danielle, Ivy, Jane, Kelly, Laura, Lodie, Mary, Nancie, Robin Rochelle, Sandy, Sarah, and Sarah.

Stuffing Makes the World Go 'Round

2009-11-23T20:02:00.000-08:00

I picked up my locally-raised, organically-fed, free-range turkey from Mimi Fueling of Cascade Creek Farms last week. It looked as good as can be expected from a naked dead bird in a clear plastic sack. There is no doubt in my mind that once it has been roasted for a few hours, it will be gorgeous and golden on the outside and moist and tender on the inside. It will be delicious and we will all enjoy it, but in my mind, it will only be a side show to the stuffing.
Stuffing is what makes the Thanksgiving meal. Sure, candied yams are good, mashed potatoes with gravy are pretty tasty, and any kind of pie for dessert is a treat, but the meal isn’t worth fussing over if there isn’t stuffing.
I’m not sure what it is about stuffing that makes it the centerpiece of the meal for me. It doesn’t really matter what kind of stuffing it is (even those lame croutons in a bag they pass off as stuffing mix will do in a pinch) as long as there is lots of it. Two or more kinds of stuffing cooked both inside and outside of the bird (food safety be damned) and I am in heaven.
Stuffing, in the Thanksgiving sense of the word, has probably been around since we figured out how to raise birds for food production. I imagine eating chicken cooked the same way day after day got pretty boring until someone realized you could cook your side dish inside the bird at the same time. Documents about cooking from ancient Rome mention stuffing recipes to place inside all kinds of small animals, including dormice. Since then we’ve been thinking up millions of combinations of foods to stuff inside the hollow spaces we find on our cooking path.
Food cultures around the world stuff one kind of food inside another. A few examples that come to mind are ravioli, chili rellenos, and wontons. We also stuff meat from one part of an animal into another, such as sausages and haggis. Maybe it’s the combination of flavors and textures that promotes this culinary exploration. Maybe we don’t like to waste any of the bits and pieces. Or maybe, in the case of stuffing the empty cavities of animals we are going to eat with bits of dried bread and anything else we might have lying around the house, it’s that we just don’t want to waste all that space.
No ingredient can be dismissed as a possible addition to a stuffing mix. Most stuffing starts with a base of starch: white bread, corn bread, rice, or potatoes are the most common. Meats of all kinds turn up in recipes; I’ve seen liver, bacon, sausage, oysters, giblets from the turkey, and ground lamb in recipes. If you are vegetarian you can use eggs or tofu. Nuts, such as pecans or chestnuts can form the base of the stuffing or hazelnuts can add a little pizzazz. Fruits, both dried and fresh can be added, and, of course, vegetables of all kinds, but especially celery, carrots and onions. I’ve had amazing morel mushroom stuffing and stuffing with what seemed like a little bit of everything the chef could find thrown in. The liquids used to moisten the whole conglomeration go from tame chicken broth to hardcore straight bourbon whiskey, with wine and port somewhere in between.
With so many delicious possibilities for homemade stuffing, I was appalled to learn that something like 60 million families will suffer through Stove Top stuffing this year. There is too much room for improvisation, personal taste, and experimentation in stuffing to leave the making of it to some giant corporation who mass produces a flavorless impersonator. Besides, it’s really easy to make and probably costs less to make it from scratch.
Here’s the basic gist of stuffing: cut up some day old bread into cubes and let them sit out overnight or cook up some rice or diced potatoes. Dice up a selections of veggies; onions, carrots and celery are traditional but use what you have. Sauté these in some type of fat. Add anything else that sounds good like fruit, nuts or pre-cooked meat. Season with herbs of your choice (sage and thyme are traditional) and salt and pepper. Add the bread, rice or potatoes and mix well, adding enough liquid of your choice to just moisten the mixture. Stuff your bird or place the mixture in a baking dish and cook with the turkey for the last 45 minutes. If you are cooking it separately (and it is safer that way, just not as tasty), keep it covered for most of the cooking time but make sure to uncover and crisp up the top (by far the best part in my opinion) before serving.
Of course, an article about stuffing is not complete without a brief discussion about terminology. Growing up in New Jersey, I never heard of stuffing referred to as dressing. Dressing was something you put on salad or a wound. Since then, I occasionally run into someone who insists that the stuff you stuff inside a turkey is called dressing. This seems absurd. I could understand if you called gravy dressing, since it does cover or dress the turkey and mashed potatoes but there is nothing in the definition of the word dress that indicates it is something stuffed inside something else. Alas, it was the prissy Victorian who caused all these problems. The word stuffing offended their delicate sensibilities and so was replaced by the much more proper though much less accurate word dressing.
I say to hell with Victorian propriety, and please pass me the stuffing so I can have seconds.

Vicki Reich will be celebrating Thanksgiving in Sagle and will serve at least two kinds of stuffing and three kinds of pie. She’ll be the one sneaking bites of the crispy bits off all the dishes. She can be contacted at wordomouth@yahoo.com.

Vicki’s Go-To Stuffing recipe for the past 3 years
Makes enough for a 18-20 pound turkey
Adapted from The New Basics Cookbook by Julee Rosso and Sheila Luikens

2 T. butter
2 c. diced celery
2 c. diced onions
1 c. diced carrots
1 lb Italian sausage
2 c. apples, chopped
1 c toasted and skinned hazelnuts, chopped
1 c. dried cranberries
6 c. stale bread, cubed
1 t salt
1 T. fresh thyme, chopped
1 T. fresh sage, chopped
Salt and pepper to taste
1 c Port
1 c. chicken broth

Heat butter in a large skillet. Saute the celery, onions and carrots over medium low heat until softened. Transfer the vegetables to a large bowl.
Add the sausage to the skillet and cook through, breaking up the sausage into small pieces as it cooks. Transfer to the bowl with the veggies. Add the apples, nuts, and cranberries to the bowl with the veggies and sausage. Mix well. Add the bread cubes and toss. Add the herbs, salt and peper. Toss lightly. Add the port and broth. Toss until well blended.
If you are daring or are as old as I am and have lived through many years of eating stuffing cooked inside a turkey, loosely stuff the stuffing inside the turkey. Roast the turkey according to your turkey recipe. If you like your stuffing safer and crispier, place in a large baking, cover with aluminum foil and place it in the oven with the turkey for the last 45 minutes. Uncover to crisp the top during the last 15 minutes.

A Hunting We Will Go

2009-11-09T18:58:00.000-08:00

Growing up in suburban New Jersey, the concept of hunting did not enter my mind very often. If there was a hunting season in my hometown, it didn’t show up on my radar. The only recollection I have of game making it onto our dinner table was the venison a patient of my dad’s brought him once a year. I’m quite sure I didn’t give a second thought to how it got to our table; that my dad’s patient had actually gone out in the woods and shot it so we could enjoy it. I doubt I connected the slab of meat with those big, brown, doe-eyed creatures I saw eating my mother’s landscaping (I’m sure she knew about the hunting season and wished it was longer).
I never met the man who provided us with that bounty every year. All I remember is my dad injecting the big hunks of meat with beef fat to “make it tender”. I’m not even sure if my parents shared this delicacy with me and my brother. We probably weren’t worthy.
It’s hard to avoid hunting when you live in North Idaho. My first job when I moved to Moscow was at the University of Idaho. I was amazed that the whole physical plant basically shut down for the first week of hunting season (which I now understand was the first week of rifle season for deer, not the actual first week deer season which began weeks before with archery season).
It wasn’t until I moved to Sandpoint that I actually got to go hunting. I had hinted around to my hunter friends during the 15 years I lived in Moscow that I wanted someone to teach me what it meant to be a hunter, but no one ever took me seriously. It wasn’t until I told my then boyfriend, Jon, I wanted to see if I had what it takes to kill what I was going to eat for dinner, that I got to carry a gun through the woods.
So far, that’s what hunting has been for me: a really observant walk through the woods with a shotgun. And I kinda like it. Sure, it’s usually cold and, to date, I have seen maybe a couple of dozen grouse (the only animal I’ve hunted so far) and shot just one but there is something about making your way silently through the woods with your eye’s peeled for any movement that is very appealing.
Jon gave me his uncle’s 410 shotgun. It’s old and heavy and doesn’t shoot very far but I like carrying it and thinking about all the woods it’s traveled through and all the birds it’s shot. It doesn’t have a safety so I am extra aware of all my movements. The heightened awareness of myself and my surroundings makes taking my gun for a walk in the woods a special and enjoyable experience.
Of course, there’s the part where you start to think about the fact that you are out there actively looking to kill something. That was the part I wasn’t sure I could do. Modern society has created a disconnect between us and where our food comes from. Most people don’t think about the fact that their burger was once a cow and that someone had to kill it in order for them to enjoy their meal.
I’m sure many of the people I grew up with think that hunting is a cruel sport and people shouldn’t do it. They are, however, probably perfectly content to eat bacon from a CAFO (confined animal feeding operation) pig who spent its brief miserable life in a cage not quite big enough to turn around in.
If I’m going to eat meat (and I have no plans on becoming a vegetarian any time soon) I want to know that the meat I am eating had a good life before it got to my table.
What better way to know that for sure then to be a part of that animal’s world for a morning. The one grouse I shot in my brief experience as a hunter never knew what happened. He was just doing his thing, eating leaves and berries when Jon and I saw him. Then he was dead.
Having never killed a warm blooded animal before, I was amazed that I could do it. The grouse was beautiful; I’d never really had a close up look at one before. The feathers were gorgeous and he was still warm. I got all mushy and thanked him for giving his life to feed me. Then I picked him up by his feet and went looking for more.
I’ve gone grouse hunting a couple of times each season for the past three years. I’ve shot one grouse in that time. I’ve accompanied Jon deer hunting once (having no rifle of my own and having been completely flummoxed by the salesman about what type of rifle I should consider buying, I just tagged along with my shotgun in case we ran into some grouse). It’s not the same as grouse hunting. There’s a lot of sitting and waiting for deer. It’s a much colder proposition. I’m not sure I’m a fan. Most of the time I was sitting still, all I could think about was that I could have been knitting instead. This is not the Zen mindset you need to be a good deer hunter. I am sure that I could shoot a deer and gut it and butcher it. I just don’t think I could stand the cold and the lack of knitting needles.
For now I’ll stick to hunting birds. Besides, I’ve just begun to explore the culinary possibilities of grouse.

Grouse Breast in White Wine and Lime Sauce
Serves 4

6 grouse breast halves
1 lime
½ c. flour
Salt and pepper to taste
2 T. olive oil
2 cloves of garlic, minced
¼ c. slivered almonds
2 T. brown sugar
½ c. chicken broth
½ c. white wine

Preheat oven to 350 F. Wash the grouse and pat dry. Set aside. Zest the lime then squeeze out the juice. Pour the juice over the grouse breasts and reserve the zest. Place the flour on a plate and mix in salt and pepper to taste. Heat the oil in a frying pan over medium-high heat and sauté the garlic until soft. Meanwhile, dredge the grouse in flour on both sides until thoroughly coated. Add the grouse to the pan and brown on both sides. Remove the grouse to a baking dish. Combine the lime zest, slivered almonds and brown sugar and sprinkle over the grouse. Add the broth and wine and cover the dish with foil. Bake for 45 minutes. Remove foil and bake an additional 15 minutes. Serve hot with a side of jasmine rice.

Adult Pumpkin Carving

2009-10-27T18:21:00.000-07:00

Jon and I carved our Jack-o-Lanterns last night. We carved them out of beautiful local pumpkins and had more fun than adults should be allowed while carving silly faces in large orange members of the Cucurbit family.
Until I met Jon, it had been years since I’d carved a pumpkin (maybe even since I was a teenager still living at home). Jon had much more experience than me. He raised two sons and carved pumpkins with them every year until they moved away. He couldn’t imagine a Halloween season without a Jack-O-Lantern or two to greet us at the door in the evening. He got me back on the carving wagon. This is our third year carving together.
Jon is a pro pumpkin carver. He lays out his special knives and scoop next to his victim before he begins. Then he sketches his design in removable ink on the side of his squash which will enhance his creation the most. He scoops out the guts with a few deft flicks of his wrist. His lid is never too small and his faces are always animated and perfectly frightful when lit from within.
I won’t even begin to tell you about my inadequacies as a carver. I’ll just tell you that the burn on the palm of my hand, which I got while trying to get the candle into my, once again, too small lid, still smarts.
Pumpkin carving is a blend of old world traditions and new world food. Pumpkins and other squash have been grown in the Americas since at least 5500 BCE. Native Americans not only ate the flesh and the seeds of these prolific fruit but they also dried strips of pumpkin and wove mats out of it (the fiber artist in me would love to see a sample of such a thing).
When Europeans came to the continent, they began incorporating pumpkin in their diet. The idea for pumpkin pie seems to have occurred around this time. Whether it was white settlers or the native people who thought that scooping out the seeds and filling the cavity with milk, honey and spices then settling the whole delicious mixture in the hot ashes of a fire to cook to perfection, is lost to history. I’m just glad someone thought of it.
Meanwhile back in Europe, a couple of traditions intertwined. The Celtic celebration of Samhain at the end of fall, had revelers carve turnips, beet and gourds then light them from within to attract the spirits of their deceased relatives so they could say goodbye or ask for favors.
In Ireland, there was a myth about a guy named Stingy Jack who fooled the Devil one too many times and ended up having to carry a burning lump of coal inside a carved turnip for evermore. His name changed to Jack of the Lantern and the carved vegetable became known as a Jack-o-Lantern.
When the old world met the new, it became obvious to the new immigrants that pumpkins are way easier to carve than turnips and pumpkins gained the fame we know them for today.
I have only one issue with carving pumpkins (and, no it has nothing to do with the fact that I’m not that good at it). It seems to be a waste of a perfectly good squash.
Pumpkin is delicious. It’s great in soup and stews or roasted with chicken or made into pie or ice cream or muffins or… It seems just a bit sad when your carved pumpkin starts to collapse in on itself and there’s no saving it for that pumpkin risotto you had planned.
I am somewhat mollified with the knowledge that pumpkins bred for perfect Jack-o-Lanterns don’t make the best pies. Yes, they are edible and you can chop up the bits that you carve away and put them in a stew, but if you are cooking something where the taste of the pumpkin is the center of attention you’ll want to get a pie pumpkin. These are bred for sweetness and flavor and consistency.
There are over 50 varieties of pumpkins, from those cute little minis (that seem to only serve the purpose of being cute) to the jumbo varieties that can grow to over 1000 pounds (that seem to only serve the purpose of getting the grower into the Guinness Book of World Records). There are white, blue, green, red and tan colored pumpkins. There are even some varieties with “naked” seeds without the while seed coating.
It’s really the seeds that save me from despairing over the loss of all that fine pumpkin flesh. Carving pumpkins lets you focus on the seeds. You don’t need to fuss with peeling and chopping so you have plenty of time to think up imaginative flavors for this year’s batch of toasted pumpkin seeds. And much to Jon’s dismay, eating the seeds is my favorite part of carving pumpkins.

Toasted Pumpkin Seeds

Seeds from as many pumpkins as you carved
Salt or seasoning of your choice
Olive oil (optional)

Preheat oven to 350F. Rinse the seeds well in warm water, removing any bits of flesh. Drain well and place in a single layer on a baking sheet (it might take two sheets if you’ve carved lots of pumpkins). Sprinkle with salt to taste and enough olive oil to very lightly coat the seeds. Bake for 20-30 minutes, shaking and stirring every five minutes. The seeds are done when the inside and outside are dry and the seed coating is slightly tanned.

Flavoring ideas:
Chili Powder
Garlic Salt
Cheese topping for popcorn
Cinnamon and salt
Cumin and cayenne
Italian seasoning

Minding my Manners

2009-10-14T11:19:00.000-07:00

I like to put my elbows on the table when I eat. It’s a bad habit that I’m trying to break but it’s not easy. My mom taught me not to do this from a young age. She also taught me which fork to use and to not talk with my mouth full. She passed on all the table manners I would need so I wouldn’t make a fool of myself at a formal dinner or lunch with the Queen.
I’m not sure why I can’t follow her teachings and society’s conventions. Somehow my elbows creep up onto the edge of the table. I don’t sit all hunched over, guarding my food; I’m just a bit lazy and like to rest my arms while enjoying a meal. And why shouldn’t I? Why is it considered rude to have elbows on the table and, for that matter, how did we come up with all the other crazy rules of table etiquette?
Sure, chewing with your mouth closed is an obvious one. Who really wants to see what’s going on inside someone else’s mouth while they’re eating? And I also get not talking about disgusting subject matter or making negative comments about the food others are eating, but where did all those forks come from and what about all the rules about napkin use?
Etiquette and manners are our culture’s unwritten rules which help us all get along as a civil society. Table manners are especially important. They developed since sharing food could be a touchy subject and making sure everyone got some and didn’t try to kill each other over it was pretty important.
Table manners evolved with us as we became more civilized and as technologies developed. There was no need in the Middle Ages, when communal dining became more prevalent, for decisions about which fork to use when, because there were no forks. Actually, there was no cutlery whatsoever. You had to bring your own knife if you wanted any of the roast mutton that was shared on one plate between three or four people.
Being in close quarters with sharp weapons necessitated some rules. Don’t point your knife at other guests while your eating, wipe off your hands and mouth before drinking (since you were sharing the glass with those same four people), and don’t put your elbows on the table were a few of the courtesies that developed during that time.
The elbows were important for two reasons. First it was pretty crowded with four people all eating off the same plate so if your elbows were on the table it meant your plate-mates couldn’t get to their food. And second, the tables were pretty rickety back then, just a board on top of sawhorses, and if you leaned on one side you ran the risk of upsetting the whole works. The only other table manners that seemed to exist at that time were a ban on spitting and picking your teeth with your knife at the table.
Silverware technology advanced, forks were invented and spoons became more commonplace but people were still expected to bring their own. Knifes became less lethal but were still symbols of war and were treated as such. The edges were always pointed toward the plate and were never left resting with the handle on the table and the point up.
Since you got to bring your own silverware to dinner, it became quite ornate and people used it to show off their wealth (as in “my spoon is bigger and prettier than your spoon”). I’m guessing that as the technology to make silverware and plates improved, households were able to supply place setting for every guest. Having a different utensil and plate for every course became the height of wealth. As people strove to gain status in society, the number of forks, knifes and spoons increased as well.
Today’s formal place setting is a vestige of that sense of propriety and wealth. It is due to our sense of tradition and the civility it implies that we still encounter all those forks in fancy restaurants and formal dinners.
Napkins and the rules for their use also developed with technology as well. In the Middle Ages the tablecloth was the napkin. Everyone used it to wipe their hands and face. All cloth back then first had to be raised (either grown from flax or on sheep (in Europe at least)) then spun into yarn and woven into cloth. There were probably only one or two tablecloths per household. To wash them, you first had to make your own soap and then take the cloth and the rest of your laundry out to the stream and beat it against the rocks. I’m guessing the tablecloths got kind of gross. This is probably the time period when we decided it was impolite to put any used utensils back down on the table. Not only did this rule keep the cloth cleaner longer, but it kept your utensil from picking up any of last night’s (or the night before’s) dinner. As spinning and weaving technologies improved, the napkin came to be but we were still eating mostly with our fingers so they were quite large. As we adopted the use of utensils, our hands got cleaner and our napkins got smaller.
At a formal dinner today, napkins see very little use. We dab at our mouth before drinking (a nod to the days when we shared our glass) or wipe at the corners of our mouth when we finish. Our hands stay clean since there is almost nothing served at a formal dinner which we eat with our fingers (crisp asparagus spears being the only exception I found) and they remain in our laps the entire meal, from the time we sit down until everyone is finished with their meal. This is a holdover from days gone by when we wanted to hide any messiness from our companions and I can imagine how messy they got if everything was eaten with your fingers.
Although it seems like some table manners should have gone by the wayside long ago, tradition is hard to break. I know it annoys me to no end when a waiter takes my fork off my salad plate and sets it back down for me to reuse. How hard is it to get a new fork? Sure, the tablecloth is clean and will be replaced before the next person sits down so the traditional reason for not placing used utensils on the table is gone but it still seems like a considerate thing to do. I like that tradition. I’m sure there are a lot of other people out there who like it too and that’s why it continues.
Come to think of it, there are probably plenty of people out there who would prefer not to see me eating with my elbows on the table. I’ll try harder to mind my manners.

Vicki Reich lives in Sagle where she had way too much fun researching table manners and their history. She has a new found commitment to proper etiquette and can’t wait to host a formal dinner party with all those forks. She can be reached at wordomouth@yahoo.com

Is it really that cheap?

2009-09-29T10:21:00.000-07:00

I just finished reading “Cheap: The High Cost of Discount Culture” by Ellen Ruppel Shell. It was an eye opener. Ruppel Shell spends the first part of her book giving us a history of how we came to prize cheap over value and how the big discount stores came to be (hint: Sam Walton didn’t start it, he just “improved” on an existing idea). Then she shows us how much it really costs to be surrounded by cheap goods in terms of environmental degradation, the loss of craftsmanship and skilled labor, the loss of human rights, and the loss of the middle class in our country. She makes you think about whether you really are getting a deal on that $5 t-shirt.
Of course, my favorite chapter by far was the one on cheap food. I already knew quite a bit about the consequences of cheap food but she really drove the point home.
She starts by showing how our relentless drive for ever cheaper food is actually causing starvation in third world countries as they convert farmland they used to use to feed themselves into plantations of coffee, palm oil, and grain to feed livestock they themselves could never afford.
These countries are forced to import food to eat since the imports are cheaper than the cost of growing food themselves. Plus there is the lure of money to be made from exporting cheap coffee. Of course, this puts them in the precarious position of being totally reliant on agribusiness for all their food needs. If Monsanto or Archer Daniels Midland decide to raise the price of inputs or sell corn to the ethanol market and prices rise (even a little bit), third world countries find themselves unable to afford food or to feed themselves.
Maybe you don’t really care if people far, far away are starving so you can eat a Big Mac for less than it costs to actually grow the grain to feed the cows and make the bun, but you should. We all pay the cost of cheap food.
If you’ve ever tried to grow any of your own food, I’m sure you’ve wondered just how the food we buy can be so cheap. One of the answers to that question is subsides. In the past 10 years, the government has given almost $200 billion in farm subsidies. Don’t think that money goes to help your local farmer. Instead three quarters of that money goes to the biggest of the big in the agribusiness world. Our tax dollars are spent on miles and miles of cheap corn and rice and wheat which in turn is fed to livestock raised in feedlots in the most inhumane and unnatural surroundings so that everyone can eat lots of cheap meat. That multi billion dollar number doesn’t even include the tax breaks on oil and petroleum products that make herbicides, pesticides and fertilizers and the fuel to run the huge farm equipment necessary to manage miles of monocrops cheap.
Another part of the cheap food equation (and really the cheap everything equation) is cheap labor. By paying farm workers almost nothing to grow and harvest our food, large farms keep their costs low. But we pay the price for that as well. Keeping things cheap means keeping constant downward pressure on labor costs. We are seeing the results of that pressure in the growing divide between rich and poor in this country. It’s not just the migrant workers who pick your flavorless tomatoes in the middle of winter who are seeing their wages drop. It’s you and me as well.
And if you don’t pay people very much to grow and process your food and you make them work in unsafe and unhealthy work environments, how careful do you think they are in handling your food? Guessing from the increase in food borne illnesses in the past decade, they’re not very careful.
Of course these increases are also due to the fact that just four companies control 80% of meat production in this country. They’re producing hamburger meat that contains bits of thousands of different cows and are sending those same burgers all across the country. If just one tainted piece of meat gets in a batch, food borne illness spreads across the country with it. Also, the waste from so many animals in such tight quarters can’t be reabsorbed into the land and so gets into the groundwater or is used on crops, greatly increasing the incidence of disease.
Americans spend less on food than any other industrialized country, just 6% of our disposable income. The amount we spend has been dropping for over a generation. Some of this is due to increased efficiencies and new technologies and growing techniques but most of it is due to subsides and cheap labor.
It is sad to think that you can get 3000 calories per dollar spent on M&Ms and only 30 calories per dollar for spinach. It’s no wonder that so many of us are overweight or obese. We are biologically programmed to get the most calories for the least amount of effort and effort in this case could be translated as money. We are paying the price for this as well, with soaring health care costs and debilitating disease.
Lower wages, higher health care costs, greater food related illnesses, food insecurity, and less healthy food are all results of our striving for the cheapest food we can find.
So what can we do to change these trends? Some of the answers have to come from the government. We need to stop paying subsides to a few grain crops and start making healthy food more affordable for everyone.
On a personal level, I first recommend reading the book. The author does a much better and more comprehensive job of showing how our search for Cheap is making us poor in so many ways. Then start really thinking about your food and where it comes from. Try eating in season when local food is fresh and abundant. Buy local whenever you can (even if it costs a little more, that money stays in our community and may wind up back in your pocket when the farmer comes into your business to shop). Educate yourself about what you are eating (ask whether the shrimp you’re buying is causing huge environmental damage in Thailand or supporting small independent fishermen or whether your milk is from cows treated with hormones in huge, crowded dairies or raised on small farms by caring farmers). Cook for yourself using the healthiest ingredients you can afford. Eat lower on the food chain. Spend more time with your food and enjoy the better and fresher flavor of local fare instead of sitting in front of some screen being fed advertisements for cheap food. Demand food that reflects your values and beliefs not just your pocketbook. By voting with our dollars, we can change the system.

Bliss in a Bowl

2009-09-15T17:15:00.000-07:00

Corn, or at least industrially produced corn, has been getting lots of bad press lately and rightly so. Michael Pollan dissed it in “Omnivores Dilemma”. The documentaries “King Corn” and “Food, Inc.” pointed out that we humans are starting to be composed of corn; it’s so predominant in our diet.
It’s fed to feedlot cattle, much to the detriment of the cows and the nutritional value of the beef. It’s made into high fructose corn syrup (which has recently been linked to the obesity epidemic) and about 50 other ingredients that are found in packaged food.
It’s been genetically modified to withstand massive amounts of pesticides without much research into the ramification of those changes. The pesticides and herbicides needed to grow mass amounts of the stuff are poisoning ground water in Iowa and causing dead zones in the Gulf of Mexico. The huge swaths of monoculture corn farms cause erosion of farmland. Best of all, we taxpayers help fund all of this with subsidies to the giant corporate corn growers. It deserves to be vilified.
But not all corn is industrially produced and not all corn should be avoided. After all, it was responsible for sustaining Mesoamerica for millennium; it can’t be all bad. In its natural state (i.e. not high fructose corn syrup) it is a whole grain, high in fiber and low in fat, sodium and sugar. Fresh corn on the cob is one of the greatest pleasures the summer has to offer.
But the kind of corn that gives me the most pleasure all year long is popcorn. In fact, these articles might never get written without popcorn (I’ve got a bowl full of the hot tender nuggets on my lap right now, and yes it does tend to make the keyboard messy). There’s something about popcorn that helps me think and write clearly.
Of course, all that thinking got me wondering about the popcorn itself. I knew that popcorn is a special variety of corn but that’s about all. How long has it been around? What’s the physics behind the transformation from hard, tooth-breaking seed to fluffy goodness? And what other fascinating things about popcorn could I find in my research? I had to find out.
It turns out that popcorn might have been the first variety of corn developed in Mexico, or at least the first method of cooking it. Corn, or maize as it’s known in most of the world, was domesticated about 10,000 years ago from a grass. There may be no other crop that humans have changed more in their domestication. It’s hard to reconcile a fat ear of corn with a grass, but a grass it is.
Ears of popped corn have been found in archeological sites and I can only imagine the surprise on the first person’s face when the “garbage” she threw into the fire started exploding. Maybe at first she thought the gods were angry but I’m sure she changed her mind after she tasted it.
Of the five general kinds of corn, three of them will explode when heated. Dent and flint corn will form a crisp puff but come nowhere close to the expansiveness of popcorn. What makes popcorn do its thing is the composition of the hull (yes, the bits that get caught in your teeth and gums). The popcorn hull conducts heat much faster than other types of corn while at the same time being quite a bit stronger. When you cook popcorn, the heat is quickly transferred to the inside of the kernel (the endosperm). The starch and proteins in the endosperm rapidly reach the boiling point. They soften and give off moisture that turns to steam. All that steam builds up pressure against the hull until it reaches seven times the external pressure and then, POP, the kernel explodes and all that soften endosperm expands with the loss of pressure. The endosperm quickly cools and solidifies into white crunchy goodness.
If you suddenly have an urge for some, please feel free to stop reading for a moment and go make yourself a bowl. Pretend like its intermission at the theater.
Popcorn is a bit picky about the conditions under which it will pop to perfection (and there is some controversy about what constitutes a perfectly popped kernel but I’ll get to that in a moment). The kernels should be heated to right around 380 F. Anything cooler and the moisture inside the kernel that forms the steam that causes it to pop will evaporate before it gets hot enough. The kernel won’t pop and you’ll end up with “old maids” (a technical but slightly offensive term for completely unpopped kernels). Anything hotter and the starch and protein closest to the hull will get too hot and rupture the hull too soon, causing incomplete popping. The result is those barely opened kernels at the bottom of the bowl that my dentist would call teeth breakers and I consider a delicacy (maybe we should call them old geezers just to even the score).
Moisture content is just as important as temperature. Too dry and you’ll end up with all old maids. Too moist and the corn will pop but not very much and will be really chewy. To insure your popcorn stays at the right moisture content (14%), keep it in an airtight container in a cool dark place but not the refrigerator. If you do happen to come across a batch of kernels that have dried out and won’t pop, you can actually reconstitute them by adding a few drops of water to the jar and waiting a few days to see if they pop. If not, add a few more drops and repeat until they do.
Do you have any of that popcorn left that you made at intermission? If you don’t go make another batch, I’ll wait. If you do, take a look at the popped kernels, called flakes in the popcorn industry. There are two general shapes the flakes take. One is more rounded with most of the hull intact on the bottom. The other has lots of wings and the hull is spread out over all the wings in little pieces. There are probably combinations of the two shapes as well. Now bite into one of the round pieces, called mushroom flakes and then into one with wings, called butterfly flakes. The butterflies are noticeably more tender while the mushrooms are chewier.
Here’s where the controversy over what is a perfectly popped kernel of corn comes in. The mushrooms are much sturdier kernels and can hold up to packaging and forming into other confections like caramel corn but they are a bit tougher. The butterflies are fragile but take up more volume and have a better mouth feel. While the popcorn industry is trying hard to decide which is best and breeding popcorn to yield one or the other, I’ve decided I like them both (actually, until I wrote this article, I never noticed a difference).
Now I need some floss.

Vicki Reich lives and pops popcorn in Sagle. She eats at least one bowl of stove popped corn for each article she writes for the Reader. She had to have two for this one. She can be contacted at wordomouth@yahoo.com

Sarah’s Popcorn

My friend Sarah makes the best popcorn. I’ve never been able to reproduce it but here’s what she told me she does.

Olive Oil
Popcorn
Tamari
Brewer’s Yeast

In an old, heavy bottomed 4 quart pot used exclusively for making popcorn with a loose fitting lid (or if you don’t have one of those at least a heavy bottomed pot with a loose fitting lid) pour in some olive oil. Use approximately 1/3 cup oil for 1 cup popcorn. Turn heat to medium high. Place 4-5 kernels in the oil and close the lid. When those kernels pop, add the rest of the corn, put the top back on and gently shake the pot. When those kernels begin to pop, start shaking the pot again and keep shaking until the popping slows to one or two every 10 seconds. Remove from heat and pour into a bowl. Sprinkle with tamari and brewers yeast to taste. Dive in.

Kitchen Experimental

2009-08-17T20:33:00.000-07:00

I knit. A lot. Sometimes until it hurts. Most of the things I knit are my own creation in some way, not just because I knit them with my own two hands but because I make some change to an existing pattern or make up the pattern out of my head. I almost never follow the directions exactly. Even if the change is subtle, like using a different yarn or a different gauge, I somehow manage to make it my own.
Lately, I’ve been taking the easy way out; I’ve been following the pattern exactly and I’ve been rather disappointed. Maybe in order to make something that you want to wear and feel good in, you have to do those little things to make it your own. Or maybe the satisfaction you get when you know you’ve figured out how to tweak things just so, or that the idea in you head really does work, is what the process is all about. Maybe having the courage to try something different gives you the impetus to push your skills further the next time. I am constantly amazed by knitters who have been knitting for years but have not yet tried to break away from the “recipe” in front of them. To me, that’s when the fun starts.
It’s the same thing with cooking. Being experimental in the kitchen is just as rewarding. There’s nothing like looking in the fridge at a strange variety of ingredients and sitting down a short while later with a delicious dinner.
There’s been a lot of media lately on getting back to cooking, spurred on by the new movie “Julie and Julia” and Michael Pollan’s New York Times Magazine article about why we should stop watching cooking on TV and actually start cooking in our kitchens. This is an encouraging tread.
Pollan contends that Julia Child gave women in the 50s and 60s the courage to try new things in the kitchen and to not be afraid to fail. I believe that courage is needed again today. It’s too easy to buy pre-made foods plus the fear of not getting it right keeps people out of the kitchen and away from all the rewards of making food from scratch. Like knitting, the final outcome, when you use your own creativity to cook, is always more satisfying.
But how do you overcome the inertia of relying on packaged food, or take out, or just your regular set of recipes? It’s not easy, but then the easy way out is not always the most rewarding. It’s one of the things I keep in mind when I want to just blindly follow a knitting pattern. Pushing myself to think a little harder for just a little longer almost always yields better results (almost always, there are the occasional failures from which I always learn something important).
To succeed with kitchen experimentation, it helps to know some basics like what flavors typically combine well and how to sauté, roast, and bake. These are easily found in many basic cookbooks. I’m not advocating not using cookbooks, I’m just saying don’t actually follow the recipes in them. Use cookbooks for inspiration or for the stuff you don’t want to keep in your head, like cooking times or temperatures. Find three or four recipes for the ingredients you have on hand, read through them then put the books away and just have fun.
Summer seems like the best time of year to work up the courage to experiment in the kitchen. There is such an abundance of fresh, local produce; it calls out for a little experimentation. What’s the worst thing that could happen if you played with a few zucchini or tomatoes? Right now there’s more than enough to go around. Why not make some fresh tomato sauce or a zucchini tomato salad?
Let’s take the tomato sauce as an example. Opening up one of my cookbooks, there are recipes for fresh tomato sauce with mint, or basil, or zucchini flowers and red peppers, or mozzarella, or eggplant and walnuts. There’s even a sauce recipe using just zucchini. Reading through them, I notice some require a quick cooking of all the ingredients at once while others require a few more steps.
Since I have lots of zucchini, zucchini blossoms, and basil on hand, I settle on something that uses all of those ingredients. Most of the recipes call for starting the sauce by sautéing garlic and/or onions in some olive oil and/or butter then adding the chopped veggies then the chopped blossoms and basil at the end along with some salt and pepper while at the same time getting the pasta cooked. If I’m going to use the zucchini I know I’m going to have to cook that a bit longer than the tomatoes so there’s no way I can just quickly sauté everything at once. Instead, I might decide to save time by not peeling and seeding the tomatoes because I don’t mind having peels and seeds in my sauce (if I was making it for company, I would probably take the extra step).
While I’m cooking, I might decide that the fresh oregano in my garden would go well with what I have so far and even add a few flakes of red pepper, just for fun. The whole meal might take 20 minutes to make and with a bit of parmesan cheese on top will far exceed any jarred tomato sauce for flavor, freshness, nutrition, and eye appeal.
After a few tries at experimenting, the rewards will so far outweigh the fear of failure, you’ll wonder why you ever followed a recipe in the first place. And then you may even want to learn to knit.

Fresh Tomato Sauce with _______
A “recipe”

Fresh locally grown tomatoes, any many as you need to feed who you’re feeding, peeled, seeded and chopped or just chopped
Onions and/or garlic and/or shallots, minced or chopped, to taste
Olive oil and or butter, enough to sauté all the other ingredients
Zucchini or eggplant or mushrooms or peppers or none of these things
Fresh basil and/or oregano and/or thyme, chopped or sliced or whole
Walnuts (toasted) or squash blossoms or pine nuts(toasted)
Salt and pepper, to taste
Pasta, enough to hold all the sauce, cooked while making the sauce
Parmesan or ricotta or goat cheese, optional

Sauté the onions/garlic/shallots in the olive oil/butter. Add the zucchini/eggplant/mushrooms/peppers. Saute 3-5 min until whatever you use is slightly softened. Add the tomato. Sauté for a few more minutes until the sauce starts to thicken. Add herbs and nuts or blossoms and salt and pepper. Serve sauce on pasta and top with cheese.

Who knew Drinking Good Beer could Save the World

2009-07-24T15:57:00.000-07:00

I know I’ve said this before but it bears repeating: I love the Sandpoint library. I have yet to walk in its doors and not come away with some gem of a book having nothing to do with what I came in for.
Case in point: Several weeks ago I was cruising the cookbook section, looking for inspiration for my column, when I stumbled upon a book entitled “Fermenting Revolution: How to Drink Beer and Save the World” by Christopher Mark O’Brien. I flipped through the pages and thought my husband, Jon, would love to read it (He is a lover of craft beers and is always looking for ways to save the world). I continued on my search for writing inspiration and, finding none in that aisle, went home and wrote about salad.
When Jon got home that night, I presented him with my find and read him a bit of the introduction. He was intrigued and promised to read it. Unfortunately for him, I was intrigued as well and whisked the book away before he had a chance to start it. I’ve been enjoying it ever since.
The book, like its title suggests, is all about how drinking craft beer can save our planet. O’Brien likens the degradation of our environment and the globalization of our society to what happened to the once diverse and thriving beer culture. He insists that the takeover of beer by large multinational corporations after prohibition caused some of these problems and by drinking craft beer we can fix them.
Beer was once a local product, made with the ingredients of the region and brewed in ways past down by generations of brewsters (the first beer brewers were women and they continued to have control of this vital household product until the Middle Ages). It required very few resources to produce, it didn’t need to be transported across the world (and before refrigeration, it really couldn’t be transported very far), and it created a sense of community and place.
Beer was deeply entrenched in the culture and religion of almost every region of the world until men with money and power realized they could make more money and garner more power if they regulated beer-making. In the 1500s, purity laws made the homebrews of women illegal while promoting standardized mass-production. After 10,000 years of homebrewing, it only took a few hundred years of regulation and the advent of prohibition for the world to go from thousands of different types of beer to one predominant style, light lager. That’s what the watered down, insipid product made by all the multi-national beer corporations now-a-days is called (I like to call it yellow beer when I’m being kind, and piss water when I’m not).
O’Brien laments the passing of what he calls “beerodiversity” when the “beerocracy” of AnheuserBuschCoorsMiller etc. “globeerized” beer production and redefined beer as light lager. He argues that not only was taste compromised but the social and community aspects of beer drinking were undermined by these big corporations. He effectively makes the point that if we want to improve our communities and our environment, we need to stop drinking bad beer shipped halfway around the country and start drinking local brew.
This is where his point hit home with me. I’ve written lots of column inches about how great it is to eat local but I’d never thought to apply the same logic to my beer drinking. And lucky for us, unlike Mississippi, which O’Brien likens to a “beerological dead zone” (since they have only two craft breweries in the entire state), Sandpoint has great beerodiversity. We have two craft breweries right here plus Eichart’s which features beers of nearby regional breweries. There’s also a small but active homebrewing club.
Drinking local brew can help save the world in many ways. Local brews help create a sense of community and place. They promote creativity and diversity. They conserve resources and often promote sustainability and environmental responsibility.
I started to wonder how many of these ideas were a part of the thinking behind MickDuff’s and Laughing Dog Breweries so I called them up and asked.
Fred from Laughing Dog and Duffy from MickDuff’s were both happy to talk about the philosophies behind their breweries but neither of them had heard of O’Brien’s book. Nevertheless, both had incorporated many of the ideas O’Brien feels are going to save the world.
Both MickDuff’s and Laughing Dog source their malt from a regional malt house (Gabrinus Malting Corporation is itself a small scale, locally oriented business, getting most of their raw ingredients from BC and Alberta) and try to procure their hops from this region (mostly from Yakima, but sometimes even from neighbors’ gardens). Laughing Dog gets their huckleberries from local pickers and both breweries give their spent grain to local pig farmers.
MickDuff’s focuses on the fact that they are both a brewery and a pub, thereby creating a local gathering place for people to meet and talk over a refreshing glass of great beer. Their 140 member mug club is a testament to their following.
They strive to serve food that is natural or organic and they send their used fryer oil off to make biodiesel. They began making at least one organic beer in 2007 as an experiment. It was so successful, they’ve been making it ever since and would probably make all their beers organic if it wasn’t so hard to get their hands on organic malt.
Laughing Dog has made local part of their motto “Think Local, Drink Local” and they’re walking their talk. They use a local craftsman to make their tap handles. They use local businesses for their printing and artwork and promote them in their tap room. They’ve even specified in their contract for their new (recycled) building that local contractors should be used as much as possible.
Laughing Dog is doing its part to save the environment as well. They use about half the amount of water to make their beer as the average brewery and they use only biodegradable cleaners and sanitizers to clean their equipment.
Fred has also been very generous in sharing his knowledge about brewing with the local homebrewers association and often hosts homebrewing events at the brewery.
Both breweries help customers do their part to save valuable resources by allowing us to avoid wasteful packaging and refill our growlers (basically a big glass jug for transporting beer) right from the taps, thereby avoiding the need for six pack holders, bottles and bottle caps. Of course, sipping a cold glass right at the bar avoids all that packaging as well.
While you’re bellied up to the bar, don’t be surprised if you find yourself talking to your neighbor on the next stool about the weather or maybe even how we can all do our part to help save the world one beer at a time. Cheers!

Beer Bread
Makes 1 loaf

1 ½ c. Beer , at room temperature (this is a great way to use up the last of your growler that you didn’t finish before it went flat)
2 T. molassas
1 t. salt
1 T. active yeast
2 c. unbleached white flour
1 c. rye flour
½ c. oatmeal
1 ½ T. caraway seeds

Using an electric mixer, place first 6 ingredients in the bowl and mix for 4-5 minutes on medium speed. Add oatmeal and caraway and mix until well blended. Cover the bowl and set in a warm place until doubled in bulk, about 30 min.
Grease and flour and 9x5” loaf pan. Stir down the mixture and pour it into the prepared pan. Place the pan in a cool oven and allow the mixture to double in bulk.
Turn the oven to 325 F and bake for 45 to 50 minutes. Remove from pan and bake on the oven rack for 5 more minutes.

The Truffle Biting Ceremony

2009-07-06T21:13:00.000-07:00

Jon and I got married last weekend. The weather was fabulous, the setting was beautiful, the guests and beverages were plentiful. It was a perfect day.
To the outside observer, it may have seemed effortless, but I’m here to tell you that planning a wedding requires lots of lists and months of planning (and, hopefully, only a couple of arguments with your fiancé).
Each of us had been married previously and neither of us had had much of a hand in planning those first weddings. This time we both wanted to make the day our own ( I must admit that deep into the planning I wouldn’t have minded a little help from Mom). We wanted to do things our way even if those ways garnered blank stares or outright astonishment from friends and family.
I wore a mostly black dress and we kayaked in instead of walking down the aisle but this is a food column not a wedding advice column so I’ll get to the most important part of the day both from this column’s point of view and our own: the food (and the beer, says Jon).
And the food really was our biggest concern. We are both serious foodies so it had to be just so. My first thought was to cater it myself. I’ve catered more than my share of parties and even catered a wedding and a wedding rehearsal dinner once. I knew I could do it but once rational thought returned I realized my own wedding was not the best place to show off my culinary skills.
Plan 2 required a caterer. We wanted to use as much local food as possible. We needed a caterer who wouldn’t shy away from the extra work it sometimes takes to source local products. We also wanted a great grill master on hand to make sure those local grass fed burgers from Cascade Creek and lovingly raised lamb kabobs from Good Shepard Lamb Company were cooked to perfection.
It didn’t take long to decide that Di Luna’s would be our choice. Karen Forsythe was happy to use not only the local meat I ordered from Six Rivers Market producers but also incorporate Wheyward Goat Cheese at the very last moment (the chevre just got licenced that week and we were Susanne Wimberly’s first ever customers!). We knew Justin Otis would grill everything to perfection.
The drinks were easy. We are lucky to have a local winery and two local breweries in town and all three offer great products. We ordered kegs from both Laughing Dog and MickDuffs and got an assortment of red, white and rose wine from Pend d’Oreille Winery. There was plenty to quench everyone’s thirst.
Once the main part of the food and the drinks were under control, we needed to come up with dessert. Neither Jon nor I are big fans of wedding cake. Sure, it’s traditional to have a big white tiered cake at a wedding but we were trying to escape tradition in much of our planning. What we do share is a love of chocolate. Even since we started dating, Jon has bought boxes of truffles to celebrate almost any occasion. We always share them. I choose one, take a bite and share the other half with him. Then it’s his turn to choose a flavor and get the first bite.
It seemed like the perfect solution and once again my first impulse was to make all the truffles myself. But then a friend asked if there was anything she could do to help with the wedding, and then another friend asked. It dawned on me that I could kill two birds with one stone if everyone who asked to help was given the task of making a couple of dozen truffles. We were on our way to eschewing the cake cutting ceremony and substitute our own truffle biting tradition.
The truffles came in every flavor you could want including coconut rum and Grande Marnier with candied orange peel. Danielle, my new daughter-in-law, collected the offerings as they came in and she swears she could tell a great deal about the maker just from the shape of their truffles (I didn’t ask for details).
I’m not really sure how many truffles arrived on the day of the wedding. It was well over 400. There were plenty to go around and even a few left over (although not for long). What I do know is they were delicious and a big hit. There were chocolate stains on the mouths of both kids and adults and on a few shirts, too.
Incorporating local food and flowers (from Beehaven Farm in Bonners Ferry) and enlisting the help of friends really made our special day even more special. As we begin the task of writing thank you notes, I’d like to use my bully pulpit to say thanks to all the local business and producers who made our day special and an extra big thank you to all my friends who undertook the hazardous job of making truffles.

Nanny Rose Salad

2009-05-25T16:56:00.000-07:00

When I was growing up, my grandparents on my dad’s side had a house on the Jersey Shore. The family would gather there every summer, sometimes for a week but mostly just on the weekends. My grandfather, Joe, would bring out the grill and cook up heaping plates of burgers and steaks. For appetizers we’d have kosher hot dogs on a slice of Jewish rye fresh from the bakery down the street (the only way to eat a hot dog, in my opinion). He made his own barbeque sauce and it went on everything. It was all so good and we still refer to any outrageous barbeque as a Poppy Joe meal.
We did eat some veggies at those carnivorous feasts. There would be fresh corn on the cob (Jersey corn and tomatoes are by far the best, I know it’s hard to believe, but there is a reason it’s called the Garden State) and my grandmother, Rose, who wasn’t much of a cook, would always make a salad. This was no ordinary salad. Sure there’d be some lettuce in there, but mostly it was other stuff like cucumbers and carrots and tomatoes and celery. Lots of crunchy stuff. Then she’d dress it with, I’m guessing, bottled Italian dressing. The small amount of lettuce would get kind of soggy and you wouldn’t even really notice it was there. This came to be known affectionately as a Nanny Rose Salad. It wasn’t very good, but it was very memorable, and to this day, when I make a salad with not very much lettuce but lots of other stuff, it’s a Nanny Rose salad.
I’ve had salad on the brain lately now that fresh local greens are here and we’ve been eating salad at least once a day. Of course, the word salad can be used to describe all sorts of dishes including those made with pasta, or potato, or fruit, or (scarily) Jell-O.
My American Heritage dictionary defines salad as “a dish consisting of green, leafy, raw vegetables, often with radish, cucumber, or tomato, served with a dressing”. Using that definition, I guess you could consider anything cold that is served with a dressing (even if the dressing consists solely of Cool-Whip) a salad.
But right now, all I care about are green salads. They define spring for me and I live on them for as long as the fresh lettuce is available. This has probably been the case since ancient times when people realized they could eat dandelions, watercress, and chicory and were pretty excited to do so after a winter of eating stored grains and little else.
Those greens were much bitterer than they are today. We’ve been working on breeding the bitter out ever since and probably had our greatest success with iceberg lettuce (that flavorless, but easily transportable lettuce which may be responsible for Americans thinking we can eat salad all year long). Interestingly, the tide is turning back to bitter and salad mixes often include bitter greens like radicchio, endive, mizuna, and escarole.
Not every culture embraced these first delicious signs of spring. Some cultures took their time in deciding that green salad was a good thing to eat. The English wouldn’t touch the stuff until the early 1700s. And even then, it took an entire book (Acetaria: A Discourse of Sallets by John Evelyn) to convince them that lettuce wasn’t just for their farm animals and wouldn’t kill them if they ate it.
The Greeks and Romans were big salad eaters. The word itself comes from ancient Latin and is derived from the word for salt. I’m not sure why salt, which was a key ingredient in the dressing of ancient salads, should come to be the definitive ingredient from which the word stems. Maybe it’s because those ancient bitter salads were made more palatable by the addition of salt, since salt balances and even suppresses our taste of bitterness.
Today, we have what seems like unlimited possibilities of greens to put in our salad. The salad mix I bought from Solstice Farms last week has red and green leaf lettuce, spinach, kale, tatsoi, mizuna, and edible flowers in it. It is has so many flavors and textures all by itself that you don’t need to add anything else except a light dressing (since without the dressing it wouldn’t truly be a salad).
Whatever type of greens you build your salad with, always wait until you are going to serve it to add any oil-based dressings (instructions my Nanny Rose never followed). Oil can easily penetrate the leaves of your salad and turn them dark and soggy. If you must dress your salad early, use a water-based cream dressing, like Jon’s Favorite Blue Cheese dressing.
As the season progresses, those leafy greens will be overtaken by fresh cucumbers, peas, carrots, tomatoes and who knows what else until the creation in my bowl is a true Nanny Rose salad. Right now, I’m happy with just eating leaves.

Vicki Reich eats, writes, and gardens in Sagle. She is also the Market Manager for Six Rivers Market. You can contact her at wordomouth@yahoo.com.

Vicki’s Vinaigrette
Makes 1 cup

½ c Balsamic vinegar
½ c good quality extra virgin olive oil
½ t dried oregano
¼ t. dried thyme
¼ t. dried basil
1 t. Dijon mustard
½ t. salt
Fresh ground pepper to taste

Place all ingredients in a jar with a tight fitting lid. Shake vigorously. Serve.

This is vinegary vinaigrette. If you want a milder dressing reduce vinegar to ¼ c and increase oil to ¾ c.

Jon’s Favorite Blue Cheese Dressing
Makes 2 ½ cups
1 c. sour cream
8 oz. Blue Cheese, crumbled (start with a block of cheese and crumble it yourself rather than buying crumbles, the flavor is much better)
3 cloves garlic, minced
½ c. mayonnaise
¼ c. plain yogurt
1 T. chives, finely chopped
½ t. salt
2 T. apple cider vinegar

Mix all ingredients together in a bowl. Add more vinegar if dressing is too thick. Spoon into a jar and refrigerate. If possible, wait one day before using, but it’s hard to resist.

What's in a Name

2009-05-11T13:51:00.000-07:00

If you ask some people where their food comes from, they might tell you the grocery store. They might have no idea what a potato plant looks like and might be completely surprised by the large green leafy thing growing over their tubers. They would never believe you if you told them the four foot tall billowing fern-like plants they see in the fall were once the asparagus they prized in spring.
I like to think I know all about the food I eat. However, my confidence was recently shaken. I just learned that growing over those gnarly, misshapen, but deliciously versatile Jerusalem artichokes that I relish in the spring are 6 foot tall stalks with bright yellow flowers (that are rumored to smell like milk chocolate, I must find out if it’s true) and they’re relatives of the sunflower. I don’t like being in the dark about my food. I needed to know more.
To start with, I had to know about the name. Why in the world was a New World plant named for an ancient Old World city? And why was it named for another vegetable that it wasn’t related to?
It turns out at least the Jerusalem part of the name derives from a failed game of Telephone. When explorers first brought Jerusalem artichokes to Italy, the Italians called them girasole, which is Italian for sunflower. Over time girasole was misunderstood to be Jerusalem (I guess I can see how that could happen) leading to the first half of the confusing name we have today.
The artichoke part of the name comes from the fact that when cooked, Jerusalem artichokes do taste a bit like artichoke hearts (and it turns out they are very distantly related).
Jersusalem artichokes (or sunchokes, as they are sometimes called to avoid all the above mentioned confusion) were cultivated by Native Americans for so long before Europeans arrived that scientists haven’t been able to figure out where they originated. What we do know is they were brought to Europe around 1600 and became a staple food there. The French, in particular, love them.
And what’s not to love? These ugly little tubers are good and good for you. You can just slice them up and throw them on a salad for some extra crunch or you can get really creative. Sunchokes can be boiled, baked, fried, or roasted (I even found a recipe for Jerusalem artichoke chiffon pie in Stalking the Wild Aparagus by Euell Gibbons. I plan on trying it soon; it’s too intriguing to pass up.) They are low in calories and high in potassium, iron, fiber, and vitamin C.
Jerusalem artichokes remind me a lot of potatoes in terms of versatility in the kitchen. There is one key difference that you should be aware of when you are creating new dishes with them. Potatoes store energy as starch and that gives sticking power and body to foods made with them. Jerusalem artichokes store energy as inulin. Inulin is a polymer of fructose sugars that’s not digestible by our bodies. It’s actually digested by good bacteria in the gut and helps promote those good bacteria while keeping out the bad guys (it may also promote gas if you are not used to eating it; start off with small servings to avoid embarrassment). The lack of starch makes it difficult to substitute Jerusalem artichokes straight across for potatoes. Mash them and you’ll end up with a soupier mixture than you would expect. Fry them and they won’t be as crisp. But what they lack in starch, they make up for in flavor. I’ll take a gratin of Jerusalem artichokes over potatoes any day and since I developed a recipe for sunchoke pancakes (see accompanying recipe), I might never use potatoes again. They are way more tasty.
They are also easy to grow (maybe too easy). Like sunflowers they will self-seed but they will also grow new plants from the tubers. That means if you leave any tubers in the ground after harvest, you’ll have a fresh batch popping up soon. Amy Spencer (of Vern’s Veggies) warned me that they can take over if you’re not careful. They are planted in spring and harvested early the next year making them one of the first fresh veggies to look forward to. If you don’t want to grown them, you can pick some up at the farmer’s market. I know Vern has some.

Jerusalem Artichoke Pancakes
Serves 4 as a side dish

1 lb Jerusalem artichokes, scrubbed
½ large yellow onion
1 t. salt
2 T whole wheat flour
1 T corn starch
2 eggs, slightly beaten
Salt and pepper to taste
2 T canola oil
2 T butter

Coarsely grate the Jerusalem artichokes and onions. I use a food processor which make a quick and tear-free job of it. Place grated mixture in a colander and sprinkle with salt. Toss and let stand for about 20 minutes. Squeeze as much liquid from the vegetables as possible and place in a large bowl. Add the flour and corn starch. Toss well. Add the eggs and salt and pepper. Mix well and let stand for 15 minutes.
Meanwhile heat 1 T oil and 1 T butter in a large frying pan to medium high. Place 4-5 ¼ cup blobs of the artichoke mixture in the pan and flatten into pancakes with the back of a spoon. These will not hold together the way potatoes do so be gentle. Turn carefully when brown on one side. Cook until brown on both sides. Place in a warm oven and cook the second batch with the remaining oil and butter. Serve immediately.

Beer Can Hats or How I Waste My Time

2009-04-28T07:36:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure there's much to say for myself about my latest project, except that I giggled a lot while I was making it. And it looks cute on in a cheesy retro kind of way.

It's for my physical therapist, who's face totally lit up when I said I'd make one for him (I made him drink the Pabst, however, I will only stoop so low).
Now that it's done, I might need one for myself (but out of cans from a decent beer). If anyone wants the pattern, I'm happy to share.

Potatoes are Your Late Winter Friend

2009-04-28T07:27:00.000-07:00

It doesn’t take much to convince me that Spring has finally arrived. A couple of days in the 70’s with the sun shining and the flowers starting to bloom completely fooled me into thinking my favorite season was here to stay. I could practically taste the fresh local greens that would be gracing my plate in what seemed like mere moments. I could hear the fresh snap of asparagus, bought from the Farmer’s Market, as I prepped them for a few moments in the steamer. I could feel the warmth of the soil as I planted my tomato starts.
So imagine my dismay when I woke the other day to what basically amounted to a blizzard. It felt like someone had played a cruel joke on me and I had slept through Spring, Summer, and Fall to return, once again, to the snow and cold. I wanted to crawl back under the covers. It wasn’t fair. I was depressed for days.
This is the time of year when all I want is fresh local food. I’ve eaten enough veggies trucked in from god-knows-where that lack flavor, freshness, and life. I want salad greens that last more than two days in the fridge. I want strawberries and tomatoes that actually taste like something and aren’t just red. This snow and cold weather are thwarting my desires.
Instead of giving in to despair since I can’t be with the local food I love, I’m taking Stephen Stills advice and I’m loving the local potatoes I’m with.
Potatoes are an ancient New World food. Scientists believe they first appeared in Peru some 10,000 years ago and spread throughout South and Central America (some wild species have even been found as far north as Texas). They are the most consumed vegetable in the US (sadly, it’s mostly as fries or chips). We eat, on average, a third of a pound per day (mostly Russet Burbanks, the ubiquitous Idaho potato).
There is thought to be over 5000 varieties of potatoes grown world-wide (which mean you could have a very satisfying potato-filled life and never have to eat another Russet). They come with white, yellow, pink or purple flesh with thin or thick skins. Some grow into a perfectly smooth, rounded shape, some look like fingers, and others look like strange warty creatures. The textures range from dry and mealy (this is actually a technical potato texture term) to moist and waxy. The flavors vary from earthy to fruity to flowery. Baking or browning brings out sweet and malty notes.
Your typical grocery store doesn’t offer much variety when it comes to potatoes (certainly nothing like the variety of overly sweetened, strangely colored breakfast cereal). You’d be lucky to find Russets, Reds, and Yukon Golds all on the same day. Luckily, local farmer don’t have to grow their potatoes to be picture perfect or to conform to some preconceived notion of what a potato should look like, they can grow for flavor and variety and for their own pleasure.
Vern Spencer (the Vern in Vern’s Veggies) did just that last year. He grew at least 12 different varieties of spuds and has carefully stored them so we could have at least one local veggie on our plates all winter long.
Vern sells his potatoes through Six Rivers Market (full disclosure: I now work there) and currently has ten varieties for sale. I’ve been buying a couple of different kinds each week. The variation between them is quite surprising. Right away, you notice the physical difference. Some are round with smooth skin, some have a rough purplish outer layer and a day glow purple center, and some are so knobby and warty that it’s a good thing I don’t like to peel my potatoes, I wouldn’t know where to begin.
The distinctive tastes come out when they are boiled side-by-side and dressed with a little salt and butter. You notice the texture first. Those with higher levels of the starch amylose are dry and light due to the fact that amylose starch cells tend to swell and separate from one another as they cook. Their waxy cousins contain more amylopectin starch whose cells tend to stick together even when cooked, giving them a smoother, moister texture.
Each potato variety also has a distinctive flavor. Some are sweet, some have an almost nutty quality, while others have more earthy notes (although the distinctions are definitely subtle).
When it comes to how to cook which potato, the most important consideration is texture. If you want fluffy mashed potatoes or French fries with a crispy outside and a dry interior, start with a “mealy” (I wish they had a better word for this) potato like a Purple Peruvian or Russian Banana (or the Russet Burbank; it’s high amylase content is what makes it the perfect French fry and potato chip potato). If you want your potato to maintain its shape after it’s cooked for gratins or potato salad, use a waxy variety like Desiree or Rose Finn Apple (my personal favorite). Experiment with all the different kinds available here to find your own favorite.
If you are not a member of Six Rivers Market, you can also buy potatoes from Vern at the Farmer’s Market, which starts up again on Saturday. If you’re not much of a cook, the next time you have potatoes at Ivano’s or Spuds, ask them what variety of Vern’s potatoes their serving. But by all means, while you’re waiting for your spring greens to arrive, try something new in the potato world. After all, Russet Burbanks make up only one five-thousandths of the possibilities (even if we do live in Idaho).

Purple Roasted Garlic Mashed Potatoes
Serves 4

1 head garlic (see below)
Olive oil for drizzling
2 T butter
2 lbs Purple Peruvian potatoes, cut into small (2”dia or less) pieces, peeling is optional
1/2 c milk, warmed
Salt and pepper to taste

Cut the top off the head of garlic to just expose the cloves. Drizzle with olive oil and wrap in aluminum foil. Bake at 400F until the cloves are soft, about 20 minutes. Let cool and remove cloves from skin and set aside
.
Place potatoes in a large pot and cover with water. Bring to a boil and cook potatoes until a fork pierces them easily, about 15 minutes.
When the potatoes are done, drain them and return them to the pot. Add the garlic and mash the potatoes and garlic thoroughly. Turn the heat on very low and add the butter. Slowly stir in the milk. Mix well until creamy and the butter is melted. Admire the amazing color and serve immediately.

Auntie Har’s Oven Fries
(My aunt showed me how to make these super easy and delicious “fries”. They’re a staple in our house)
Serves 2

4 medium sized Desiree potatoes (these yield a creamier center, use a mealy potato if you want a more traditionally dry French fry center)
2 T olive oil
2 sprigs fresh rosemary
Salt and pepper to taste

Preheat the over to 400F. Cut the potatoes into wedges lengthwise. Place them in a bowl and drizzle with the olive oil. Coarsely chop the rosemary and add it to the bowl. Season with salt and pepper. Toss all the ingredients together, coating the potatoes thoroughly. Place on an ungreased baking sheet, peel side down if they will stand up. Bake 20 minutes or until brown and crispy. Try and not eat them all before serving.

The Doll Collection

2009-04-14T12:11:00.000-07:00

I've been collecting dolls from all over the world for 40 years. It's a pretty impressive collection of over 150 dolls. I've been keeping them in a cabinet my parents bought for me years ago. The collection long outgrew the cabinet so when I moved from Moscow to Sagle two years ago, I carefully packed the collection in boxes and resolved to find a bigger better display case to house them.
Fast forward two years and the boxes of dolls were still stacked in a corner of my studio until just the other day when my brand new, hand-made case arrived. It's absolutely beautiful and just what I wanted (which is good because I helped design it).
Jon and I began filling it immediately. It was so much fun. There were so many cool dolls that I had forgotten about. Like this guy from Argentina
Or these dudes from Africa
It took us several enjoyable evenings of guessing where they came from and then placing them just so. I had to make sure that the coolest ones were up front and the ones with the older, wobbly legs were propped against the back wall.
After so many years of having them all smushed together in the old cabinet, it was amazing to be able to see each and every doll. They have definitely livened up the living room

Earth Day Resolutions

2009-04-14T11:42:00.000-07:00

I’m starting to see that bright green color of new growth around town. Blades of grass are starting to poke up through last years’ thatch and even through the piles of sand along the road. Buds are appearing on trees and bulbs are popping up everywhere. I love the fresh colors of Spring, especially that special vibrant green that seems almost surreal after months of brown, grey and white.
April might be my favorite month (although I have a tendency to be in love with whatever month it is, and relish the fact that the Northwest has all four seasons). It is definitely the Month of Green. And it’s green for more reasons than just the multitudes of shades of the color cropping up wherever you look. April is also the month when we celebrate Earth Day and that’s a very green holiday (okay, so the word green is getting overused in the media, but please allow me the segue).
I like to think about Earth Day as a kind of New Years Eve celebration for the planet. I use April 22nd as an excuse to make resolutions to go easier on Mother Earth all year long. There are so many things you can resolve to do to lessen your impact on the planet, but this year my resolutions are all about making more sustainable choices when it comes to food.
Resolution #1: Buy more local food. Buying locally produced food is great for the planet and your taste buds (not to mention the local economy). Most of the food you buy in the supermarket travels an average of 1500 miles. Imagine the amount of pollution caused by trucking all that food across the country and the world. And then imagine how long it takes to get to your table and how much flavor and nutrition is lost along the way.
It just makes sense to buy what you can locally. I know it’s the end of winter and there doesn’t seem to be much local produce right now but there is local beef, lamb, pork, eggs and potatoes and soon the greens and asparagus will start coming in. The Farmer’s Market starts in less than a month. There’s still time to sign up for a share in a local CSA (which is like buying a share in a local farm). And now that Six Rivers Market (the new on-line local food market) is up and running, there’s a place to buy local food all year long. I’m going to give myself extra bonus points for buying local organic food, which goes one step further in eliminating hazardous chemicals from the environment.
Resolution #2: Grow some of my own food. Why stop with buying local? Why not grow your own? We’re starting a serious (at least as serious as you can get when you live in the woods) garden this year so I can have the freshest produce possible and I’m going to make an effort to preserve the food we grow so it will last all winter long. If you don’t have space for a garden where you live, a Community Garden is starting up at Dubs’ Field. Contact the Sandpoint Transition Initiative to find out more.
Resolution #3: Eat less meat and make sure the meat I am eating is grass fed and local. If you’ve read anything about Confined Animal Feeding Operations (CAFOs) you know they are a nightmare for both the environment and the animals. Industrialized meat production is one of the most disgusting inventions of modern agriculture. Animals are packed together, never seeing a blade of grass, forced to eat a diet of corn and agricultural by-products (including bone meal and chicken poop in the case of beef production), most of which is grown with lots of pesticides and herbicides. Their waste is concentrated in huge lagoons that leach into the water table and occasionally overflow to pollute local streams and lakes. And the gas expelled from all these animals is a leading source of greenhouse gases.
Another problem with consuming lots of animal protein is that it takes about 40 calories of fossil fuel to make 1 calorie of industrially produced meat so it’s very resource intensive. Eating less of it is an easy way to lower your environmental impact.
Eating grass-fed, pasture-raised meat and poultry eliminates most of these environmental hazards (except for the gas thing and that’s where eating less meat comes in). You’re still getting less calories out than you put in, but the calories used to produce grass fed meat come mostly from the sun, not fossil fuels.
Plus it’s much healthier for you with higher levels of omega-3 fatty acids (one of the good fats) and lower saturated fats (the bad guys).
Resolution #4: Eat fish only from sustainable fisheries. While we’re on the subject of protein, I might as well make sure the fish I’m eating isn’t causing fisheries to collapse. Too many of the world’s fisheries are on the brink of extinction and our unrelenting desire for more isn’t helping. The Monterey Bay Aquarium puts out a handy wallet-sized guide that shows what fish are being sustainably harvested and which you should avoid. I’ve printed one off and am going to actually look at it before I make my fish purchases.
Resolution #5: Buy in bulk. I’m not sure how much embedded energy is in all the packaging that surrounds our food these days but it’s got to be a significant amount. Buying food without all the bells and whistles and eye catching packaging not only decreases the amount of resources needed transport the food from one place to another, it also decreases the amount of stuff you have to throw away or recycle. An added benefit of food you can by in bulk is it’s most likely less processed than packaged food. Whole foods are healthier for you and take a lot less energy to produce, making them healthier for the planet, too! Both Yokes and Winter Ridge have a good selection of bulk food. I’m also giving myself extra points when I bring reused bags to the store to put all that good food in.
Last year’s resolutions to eat more organic food and to always bring my own shopping bags have been going pretty well, so I think I can handle these five new ones. I hope you’ll join me in adopting one or two of them as well.

Vicki Reich tries to live simply in Sagle and is glad she can start riding her bike to town again. She’s anxiously awaiting fresh local produce and would love to hear if you’re making any Earth Day resolutions. She can be contacted at wordomouth@yahoo.com

While you’re waiting for that fresh local produce to come in, try this delicious potato soup with some of the local potatoes still available from Vern’s Veggies.

Potato Soup with Chives
Serves 4

2 T butter
1 large onion, chopped
3 strips cooked bacon (optional)
2 t. paprika
4 lbs local potatoes, diced
5 c. chicken stock
1-3 pieces Parmesan rind (optional)
½ c sour cream
Salt and pepper to taste
3 T fresh chives, finely chopped

Heat butter in a heavy stockpot. Add the onions and sauté over medium heat until they soften. Add the bacon and paprika. Sauté 1 minute. Add the potatoes and stock. Bring to a boil then lower heat to simmer. Cover and simmer for 15 minutes. Add the Parmesan rind if you have any. Cook another 15 minutes or until the potatoes are soft. Using a slotted spoon, mash some of the potatoes to thicken the soup to the consistency you like. Place the sour cream in a bowl and add about 1 cup of the soup. Stir then gently add the mixture to the pot. Do not allow the soup to boil again. Add half the chives to the soup. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Serve and sprinkle with remaining chives.