SPRING LAMB
By Ellen Jackson
For Spring 2008

Wherever there have been undulating grassy slopes and people living among them, there have been sheep. The animal and the people who tend it have long embodied the gentle, bucolic spirit of a culture. Like Mary and her little lamb, flock and shepherd wander freely from one verdant knoll to the next without destination or deadline. When counted, they woo us to peaceful slumber. Theirs is an innocent freedom that celebrates nature’s renewal.

From time immemorial, lamb has symbolized the season of rebirth. Mostly associated with iconic and religious rituals, especially at Easter, “spring” lamb represents the expiatory sacrificial lamb for some, the most delectable of seasonal treats for others.

The reasons for lamb’s seasonality are straightforward: Ovulation in ewes is naturally prompted by the shortening days of autumn, so the birth of lambs, whose gestation period is five months, coincides with the first fresh grass of spring. The term “lamb” actually describes the meat of the animal from the time it is weaned, at four months, to one year old. A bit of simple arithmetic raises this question: Why is there a tradition of eating “spring” lamb at Easter?

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Posted by Laura Ford at 9:35 AM | Permalink | Comments ( 2 )

I about fell out of my chair when I read this excerpt from Ellen Jackson’s essay on brussels sprouts: “Sometimes I peel each tightly curled leaf from its compact globe.” Peel each leaf!? That reminds me of the time my friend (at the suggestion of Martha Stewart, a woman with lots of helpers I’m sure) hand sliced open and then stuffed 100 snow pea pods for a dinner party she hosted.

I love brussels sprouts so maybe I’ll try Ellen’s suggestion, but more likely I’ll dive into the recipe for Brussels Sprouts & Bacon we share below.

–Deborah Kane

BRUSSELS SPROUTS
Written by Ellen Jackson
For Winter 2008

Is there a vegetable more despised, condemned for its lack of subtlety, its imposing perfume? Brussels sprouts are like cilantro. People don’t have mixed feelings about them. They either love them or hate them.

Though smaller than their cousin the head cabbage, brussels sprouts pose an equal threat of overwhelming with their off-putting flavor and slimy texture. Pile on a host of indignities from being picked too large (they should be no larger than a small plum), stored too long (get them on the trunk, at the farmers’ market) and cooked to death, and you get a vegetable that’s never chosen, begrudgingly accepted, and no one’s favorite. For some, the only positive thing about it is that it’s over in one hold-your-nose bite. Cabbage, however, can go on forever!

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Posted by Laura Ford at 5:20 PM | Permalink | Comments ( 0 )

My friend Joy brought over a chanterelle dish last night that was AMAZING. It had white coco beans (from Ayers Creek Farm), sun gold tomatoes, shallots, basil and chanterelles. She says she got the recipe from the cookbook Chez Panisse Vegetables. She left out the green beans…. Did I mention it was AMAZING? My husband and I literally stole the leftovers from the container she intended to take home with her. I wonder if Joy is hungry right now…. We really did steal her lunch.

Anyway, the Chez Panisse cookbook apparently has some good chanterelle recipes but so does the most recent issue of Edible Portland. Now all we’ve got to do is get Ellen Jackson to tell us where her secret chanterelle gathering spot is!

–Deborah Kane

CHANTERELLES: IN SEARCH OF THE ELUSIVE MUSHROOM
Written by Ellen Jackson
For Fall 2007

The headline on June 22, 1999 read “Fungi Move Faster than Fiscal Issues in Capitol.” The breaking news? A bill passed by the State Legislature naming the Pacific Golden chanterelle, unique to Oregon’s wild mushroom harvest, the state fungus. Things weren’t slow in the Rose City that day; Oregonians just take their mushrooms seriously.

Chanterelles grow exuberantly in the Northwest, and the golden (or yellow) variety is easy to find and identify—if you can persuade someone in the know to tell you where exactly to look. Wild mushroom hunting is a secretive sport, and its enthusiasts would sooner disclose their Social Security numbers or computer passwords than share the precise location of hard-won troves.

Impervious to cultivation, chanterelles do not survive or reproduce outside of the forest. They are a delicacy brought on by autumn’s cooling rains and ushered out by the first deep frost, fruiting between September and November in the Northwest.

For chefs and foragers, they define the fall season, much like asparagus heralds spring.

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Posted by Deborah Kane at 5:31 PM | Permalink | Comments ( 0 )

Written by Ellen Jackson
For Summer 2007

“DO YOU KNOW ABOUT RATATOUILLE?” she asks me.

I’m talking to my young niece who lives in New Jersey.

“Mm-hmm. I love it.”

“Me too!” she says with unmistakable enthusiasm.

I’m equal parts pleased, proud, and perplexed. When it comes to food, she’s always been open-minded and adventurous, with a palate more discerning than both her older sister’s and younger brother’s. But I never imagined she’d cozy up to the popular French dish from Provence. When and where had she made its acquaintance?

She hasn’t, exactly. Her ratatouille isn’t a vegetable dish; it’s an animated feature film of the same name. This nine-yearold’s first and only experience with ratatouille is pure pop culture à la Pixar! She gives me a synopsis: Remy, a rat living in the sewers of Paris, realizes his ambition of becoming a great chef by insinuating himself into a famous restaurant kitchen, where—quel surprise!—rats are unwelcome. We always end up here, talking about books and movies. I do what I can to nudge the conversation back to food. Isn’t it my duty as an aunt to encourage her epicurean leanings?

I tell her about the ratatouille I love, the one with tomatoes, peppers, onions, and eggplant. “Ugh. Eggplant might be my least favorite vegetable.” Ironic, since two-thirds of the world’s eggplant is grown in her home state of New Jersey. I suspect more of it ends up in the region’s celebrated eggplant parmigiana subs and pizza than in caponata, ratatouille’s Italian sister.

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Posted by Laura Ford at 4:26 PM | Permalink | Comments ( 0 )

Written by Ellen Jackson
For Spring 2007

YOU SAY HORSEBEAN, I say tickbean. You say broad bean, I say Windsor bean. You say faba, I say fava. Cultivation of the vicia faba, or fava bean, dates back so far that its wild form is uncertain today.

Found in some of the earliest known human settlements, the legume’s long, rich history begins in the Neolithic Middle East (think Lebanon) where botanists believe it was first domesticated. Favas have been used in Chinese cooking for at least 5,000 years and made gastronomic film history in 1991, when Hannibal Lechter, who was “having an old friend for dinner,” included them in his disturbing menu.

But fava beans haven’t always been a foodstuff. Pythagoras, the sixth-century Greek philosopher, believed they contained the souls of the dead and forbade their consumption, while Greeks and Romans used them as ballots in magisterial elections—a black bean for ‘nay,’ a fava for ‘yea.’ They even suggested a namesake for one of four distinguished Roman families with legume-inspired monikers: Fabius (fava), Lentulus (lentil), Piso (pea) and Cicero (chickpea). A Fab(a) Four, if you will.

Continue reading " Edible Seasonals - Absolutely Fava-lous: The Journey of a Humble Fava Bean " »

Posted by Deborah Kane at 7:14 PM | Permalink | Comments ( 1 )

Written by Anthony and Carol Boutard
Photo by Anthony Boutard
For Winter 2007

WHEN OUR FAMILY LIVED IN PORTLAND, we enjoyed freshly harvested greens most days of the week, even through the winter. We maintained a 10x40 foot plot at Fulton Community Garden all year and foraged for wild greens in the corners of the community gardens and soccer fields.

We had our favorite nettle patches in the Marquam Canyon, pulled blanched dandelions from the rough grass at the fringes of playing fields, and collected chickweed and miner’s lettuce from abandoned garden plots. For some reason, adults roaming around with rusty boning knives and buckets never raised an eyebrow.

When we established Ayers Creek Farm, we continued our foraging habits in our berry fields and orchards and maintained a few rows of cold season greens. Hallie Mittleman, then the manager of Hillsdale Farmers’ Market, upped the ante when she asked whether we would participate in a new winter season market. We agreed and quickly intensified our gardening efforts.

Continue reading " Edible Seasonals - Colorful Harvest: The Fresh Leafy Greens of Oregon’s Winter " »

Posted by Deborah Kane at 8:16 PM | Permalink | Comments ( 1 )

OREGON'S STATE FRUIT—THE PEAR
Written by Ellen Jackson
October-December 2006

I’ve lived in Oregon for 12 years, and I just learned that the pear is our state fruit. Actually, I didn’t know states had fruits; I’d have guessed it was the marionberry. It makes sense, though; pears are Oregon’s #1 fruit crop and we rank #3 in the nation’s total production. Washington leads the nation in pear production, providing close to 46% of the total. Together, the states grow 84% of the nation’s pears.

So why are pears upstaged by apples? Do they get short shrift because the apple enjoys all-American status and long-standing popularity—in pies and lunchboxes, for target practice and kissing up to the teacher—or because the two fruits ripen and hit the market at the same time? They’re often mentioned in the same breath, as if their relationship is like French fries and ketchup. Both are pome fruits, true, but lumping apples and pears together is like, well, like comparing apples and oranges. A pear can do anything an apple can do, and sometimes do it better.

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Posted by Deborah Kane at 5:34 PM | Permalink | Comments ( 0 )

Written by Ellen Jackson
For August-September 2006

“What’s in season?” you ask. What’s not?! According to my calendar, we’re closing in on the lazy, hazy days of summer, and yet we continue to be overwhelmed by fresh, ripe, local choices every time we’re in the produce aisle. The riot of color and flavor in our gardens and markets suggests that summer might be endless after all.

It’s tough to pick a favorite from so many—eggplant, tomatoes, peppers, melons, zucchini, raspberries, figs, nectarines, peaches, plums—but I’m going to do it… cast my vote and make an impassioned pitch for corn. Sweet corn.

I know, I know. We’ve all read Michael Pollan’s book The Omnivore’s Dilemma, or know someone who has. As a result, corn’s become the new WMD for conspicuous U.S. consumers. Ardent Pollan supporters can recite the litany of unsettling facts and figures he foists on his readers: Corn is the keystone of our industrial food system, a grain second only to wheat in acres planted and sustenance given worldwide. Our country is blanketed by 80 million acres of corn monoculture, a single crop that’s remade our landscape at the expense of animals, people and agricultural diversity.

Ninety-nine percent of what most Americans eat, especially if it is industrial food (rather than food produced locally or organically), can be traced back to corn; each of us consumes one ton per year. Oddly enough, of those 10 billion bushels of corn harvested each year, we eat less than one bushel per person as corn—on the cob, as flakes in a cereal bowl or baked into corn muffins, chips and tortillas.

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Posted by Laura Ford at 2:50 PM | Permalink | Comments ( 0 )

Check out Janie Hibler's information-rich book, The Berry Bible: With 175 Recipes Using Cultivated and Wild, Fresh and Frozen Berries (Morrow Cookbooks, 2004).

BERRY FRENZY
By Janie Hibler
For June-July 2006

Berry season in the Pacific Northwest always puts me in a frenzy, like a rabbit caught in a brier patch. I devour Oregon’s magnificent berries throughout the summer, but I’m equally adamant about stocking my freezer with fresh berries for winter use.

After living in Portland for more than 30 years, I’ve grown used to eating marionberry cobblers in the dead of winter and smelling the heady aroma of freshly baked raspberry muffins when the frost is on the pumpkins. I know fresh imported berries are available much of the year, but I won’t settle for inferior fruit when I can have our local berries — internationally recognized for their intense flavor and color — year-round.

The fertile Willamette Valley produces the greatest variety of berries in the world and the thought of gathering and freezing all of them causes me some angst. Over the years I’ve learned how to take charge of this daunting task to keep it from becoming a full-time job.

By the end of May I clean out my freezer, and make jam or syrup with last year’s berries. I dust off my over-the-sink colander, which I use for rinsing berries, and I stock up on assorted sizes of self-sealing freezer bags. I’m feeling better already.

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Posted by Laura Ford at 4:35 PM | Permalink | Comments ( 0 )