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Sunday, December 11, 2005 -- DUCK

She cried, “DUCK!”

He ducked.

He cried, “GOOSE!”

Then he…well, you get the puerile level of humor Steve and I sank to when we decided to complete our 2005 New Year’s resolution (of cooking a goose and a duck) by cooking our first duck.

I had previously written about the mixed results of cooking our first goose. The final assessment being that I wasn’t sure I would cook another goose except for the goal of achieving another stash of goose fat for our freezer which could be a long time from now as, at present, we have an estimated decades-worth of goose fat in our freezer as a result of cooking that one first goose.

But I was optimistic about duck. I mean, they’re smaller, seem to be more common, and promised to be so much less carcass-like than a goose, or so I thought. So, off to do the research, I turned to Barbara Kafka’s book titled Roasting with the apt preamble of “When you’re hungry, roast. When you’re in a rush, roast. When you’re in doubt, roast. When you’re entertaining, roast.” Well, that seemed to cover just about all the bases, so I proceeded.

To start, she claims that “I have tried an infinity of ways to roast a duck and am convinced that the recipe that follows is the best.” That sounded pretty good to me! Then I learned that there are different types of ducks out there to buy and they vary in size. Based on the 5-5 ½ pound size of the duck I purchased, I guessed that it was probably the Long Island Duck, a variant of the Cochin or Peking duck.

Now, with duck in hand, I learned that one must “ready” the duck before roasting. First, you remove the wing tips (these will be later added to the stock.) To do this, I read that one holds “the wing tip from the side that normally folds in. With the other hand, hold the second joint in the same way. Bring hands down sharply toward each other, which will partially crack the joint.” So with carcass in front of me, I tried to follow these directions using various handholds and trying various sharp movements in a series of comedic approaches and finally concluded that I had no idea what she was talking about. So I just grabbed my hefty kitchen shears and whacked the wing tips off.

On to the neck. Although most of the long neck was found tucked into the cavity, some of the neck, as she predicted, was still remaining on the bird. This, I learned, I could leave on but it would become “unsightly as the flesh shrinks back during the roasting.” So she advised to remove it as well. Whereas she had a similar complicated procedure involving various hand movements for removing the remaining neck (including the use of a saw and a cleaver in larger birds), I was fortunately able to use my trusty kitchen shears to snip the remaining neck off as well.

Next, the feet…no wait, my duck had no feet! I learned, that, in fact, it is “a rare bird today that comes so festooned,” which “was a pity, since the feet add much gelatin to the stock.” And, if I did indeed have a duck that was fortunately festooned with feet, even Barbara never roasts her birds with the feet on because “people are squeamish.” Instead, she whacks them off before roasting to later add to that aforementioned stock.

Similarly, my duck carcass also lacked (fortunately) any “unsightly stubble of wings” sticking out of its skin “like a two-day beard.” But, if it had such a stubble, I learned that I could pluck out the “heftier bits” with some pliers and then, after roasting, I could “shave off” any remaining little bits with a knife after they had dried off through the roasting process. (So much for the “less carcass-like” nature of duck.)

But my little pristine duck carcass only needed the next step of “pricking the skin” using the tines of the fork. I was advised to “give extra pricking to the particularly fatty parts of the skin which are lighter in color and puffy, as if marshmallows were stuffed under the skin.” Sounds delightful, doesn’t it!

Well, it really wasn’t so bad, and to cut right to the ending, roast duck turns out to be fabulous. Kafka’s approach to roasting duck used a similar method as we tried with the goose. That is, after cutting off extraneous fat on the bird, you then poach the duck to render out the fat. However, she poaches it in chicken stock, rather than water, which becomes the basis for this fabulous stock in the end. So, after poaching the bird, letting the skin dry out overnight in the refrigerator, roasting the duck, and then eating the duck, you then add back all of the leftover bones to the stock along with stock-type ingredients like onions, celery, herbs, etc. and, voila, fabulous stock. Plus, we now had some rendered duck fat to add to our freezer larder as well as some leftover duck meat that Steve then used for a great roast duck pasta sauce for a later meal.

We used a star anise rub on the duck that we applied before roasting, and I’m including that recipe below as well as the pasta recipe. (You can skip the rub and just use salt and pepper alone if you like.) We served it with Roast Shiitakes with Soy, Mahogany Roasted Endives, sticky rice, and a cucumber and red onion salad with rice wine vinegar. Alas, we missed one of our favorite guests, Pat, who was off doing her real estate mogul thing in Georgia, but we did have the pleasure of the company of our friends Eric & Jackie, who joined us for a Sunday afternoon duck dinner and a movie. (No, we did not watch “Duck Soup” with the Marx brothers, but it would have been appropriate.)

So eat well, enjoy the small things, and, in the final analysis, I think that ducking is better than goosing. But, the next time I roast a duck, which I definitely will, I’m going to use the duck carcass I later fortuitously discovered at our local Asian market that not only is less expensive but is also “festooned” with real webbed duck feet. (I’ll just whack them off beforehand, Julia Child-style, and throw them into the stock to protect my “squeamish” guests.)

Roast Duck with Star Anise Rub
From Barbara Kafka’s Roasting
Yield: 6- 8 main dish servings

• 5-5 ½ pound Long Island Duck
• 4 ½ quarts duck stock save from a prior roasting or equivalent of home-made chicken stock or three 46 ounce cans chicken broth
• Star Anise Rub
• Scant tablespoon star anise pieces
• 1 Tbs sugar
• 1 tsp mustard seeds
• 8 black peppercorns
• 1 teaspoon kosher salt

Pour stock into a tall narrow stockpot. Meanwhile, “ready” the duck as described above. Add the wing tips, neck, giblets, and any blood from the duck. Cover the pot and bring to a boil over high heat. Carefully lower the duck into the boiling stock, neck end first, and devise some means to keep the duck submerged using a plate or pot cover on the duck to weight it down.

When the stock returns to a boil, reduce the heat and simmer 45 minutes. Periodically check to make sure the duck remains submerged. Keep the stock at a gentle simmer. Remove the duck to a roasting pan, pat it dry, and refrigerate overnight to let the skin dry out. (You could skip this step and move right on to roasting if you want.) Refrigerate the stock and, once cooled, you can skim off the now-gelled fat from the top, add this to fat removed from the bird in the “readying” stage, render this and freeze. (Once the bird is roasted and eaten, save the remaining bones and add back to the stock and simmer again. Strain the stock and freeze for later use.)

If refrigerated, let the duck return to room temperature before proceeding. Heat the oven to 500 degrees with the oven rack at the second level from the bottom. Meanwhile, place all of the star anise rub ingredients into a spice mill and process until a fine powder, stopping to shake several times for evenness. Rub this over the duck. Roast the duck 30 minutes. After 10 minutes, check the pan and, if there is accumulated fat in the bottom, carefully remove with a spoon. (We didn’t have any to spoon out at this point.)

Remove the duck to a platter and, after spooning off any accumulated fat, you can make a pan sauce using the stock if you like.

Roast Duck Pasta Sauce
From Barbara Kafka’s Roasting
Yield: 2 main dish servings

• 1 small yellow onion peeled and chopped finely (1/2 cup)
• 3 mushrooms with stems cut into small dice (1 cup)
• 2 stalks celery, trimmed, peeled, and cut into small dice (1/2 cup)
• 1 Tbs duck fat
• 2 Tbs chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley, plus extra for topping
• 4 ounces skinless, boneless roast duck meat, roughtly chopped in small pieces (about ¾ cup)
• ½ cup duck stock or chicken stock
• Small bay leaf
• 1 tsp kosher salt
• ½ small clove garlic, peeled, and finely chopped
• Ground black pepper to taste
• 8 ounces spaghetti
• Freshly grated parmesan cheese for topping

Saute onion, mushrooms, and celery with the fat, stirring, until the onions are brown and the mushrooms have given off their liquid. Add parsley and cook over low heat about 1 minute until parsley wilts. Add duck. Continue cooking over low heat 3-4 minutes. Add duck stock, bay leaf, salt, garlic, and pepper. Cook for 5 minutes. Remove bay leaf.

Meanwhile, cook the spaghetti in boiling water until done. Strain and toss with the warm sauce. Serve, topped with fresh parmesan and parsley.

Wednesday, December 14, 2005 -- Girl Meets Orange

So, just a short one, that starts with “Say, can you tell me the difference in these oranges?” I’m at one of our favorite food-shopping places, Sheridan’s, and I’m looking for some oranges to put into an orange and fennel salad I’m planning for Friday night. (We will have the pleasure of seeing Joanne’s sister Denise from Boise and her husband Dave, along with Jo’s mother Virginia, her friend Gerard, and, of course, JO and Paul.)

But I’m faced with several piles of “Navel” oranges at different prices, and frankly they all looked simply round and orange to me. So, I asked one of the Sheridan guys who, since we shop there pretty frequently, was familiar to me and maybe I was to him as well.

I expected a brief response thinking, at best, a quick “Oh, this one is better than that one.” At worst (and this one is ALWAYS the worst no matter what you are asking about), “Well, most people prefer this one.” This latter response, in my opinion, only indicates that the person who is being asked has really no idea and no expertise in the matter and, once this response is given, you should simply move on to making your own choice. (This is particularly true when asking about wine in a restaurant.)

BUT, I got a response MUCH better than my best expectation and one that competes with my experience described in the Food-Doing edition of “Girl Meets Vinegar.” This guy whips out of his pocket an instrument about the shape of a hand chisel with sharp lateral edges which, according to him, is called a produce knife. He grabs an orange from the first pile at 59 cents a pound and says, “Well, let’s see.” He slices it in half deftly using his produce knife, then the half is sliced in half and, once again in half. He hands me the now eighth of the orange while he chomps down on his own equal piece. We ponder the taste and comment.

Now, you have to envision that we are in the middle of this market crowded with other shoppers in this impromptu tasting experience as we move on to the next pile, still carrying 3/4th of an uneaten orange while he slices into the next orange, retrieving another two eighths, and we chomp down on the second option. Well, we go through two more oranges after this, including the most expensive blood orange, and end up with the least expensive, the 39 cent per pound navel orange, which we deemed best tasting and which had the most delineated sections for ease-of-sectioning for this salad. Now we are carting round all of the remaining orange sections not sampled nestled up to our bodies. We make the agreement on the best and he says “Give them to me,” and I pass off the remaining orange parts I’m carting around and he hustles off somewhere to dispose of them. This all takes, I estimate, two minutes at most.

It’s just a brief experience, but one that, for the moment, combined two people in the search of the perfect taste, which is always fun. And, the spontaneity was joyous.

So, eat well, enjoy the small things, and ….no, you can’t carry produce knives onto the plane!

Sunday, December 18, 2005 -- Bye-Bye Barb

Last weekend, we had the privilege of hosting a dinner to say farewell to Barb, who is leaving, not only employment at my place of work, but also the city of Portland along with her long-term partner, Randy. They are off to their much-deserved retirement in the state of Arizona. Barb is a Registered Nurse who has worked in the community mental health field at various locations for much longer than she would want mentioned. I, for one, am sorry to see her leave and will miss her greatly.

You can certainly make more money as a Registered Nurse working outside of the community mental health field. It’s a perpetually poor business – struggling along on public funds to serve a poor and often disturbed population. Barb, though, devoted most of her career to community mental health because of a dedication to providing respectful and quality health care to her clients. She has a great sense of humor and a balanced wisdom that provided sanity in a frequently insane environment (and I don’t mean the clients, here.)

It was a great dinner shared by a small group of friends and co-workers. I won’t elaborate further on all of Barb’s many great attributes because I think she would prefer that, being a person who does not seek public accolades. I will, instead, simply say BYE-BYE TO OUR BEAUTIFUL BODACIOUS BARB and SEE YOU IN ARIZONA. (It can’t be bad to have friends in Arizona when one lives in Oregon!)

We started the meal with a selection of Tapas that were individually prepared, then served, sequentially. Because people were arriving at different times, there was some sitting-around time at the beginning which worked well for the style of small plate grazing that is typical of Tapas bars. Here’s what we served.

TAPAS :

Spiced Fried Almonds
Parmesan Bites with Quince Jam
Duck Liver Pate on Fuji Apple
Mini Autumn Panini
Sizzling Shrimp with Garlic, Olives,
and Red Peppers
Italian "Pot-Stickers"

The Panini recipe and the Italian Pot-stickers were my own creations and I think they turned out pretty good so I’m including the recipes below, (unlike some of my other “creations” that, well, do not bear repeating.) Panini are flattened and grilled Italian sandwiches that I’ve translated into appetizer size. I used available autumn fruits to make a savory compote as part of the filling. Pot-stickers are filled, fried dumplings of Chinese origin. In this Italian version, I’ve used the same technique but have used ingredients that you might find in an Italian ravioli. The Spiced Fried Almonds came from Janet Mendel’s My Kitchen in Spain and I’m also including that recipe because it was quite simple and very delicious.


Mini Autumn Panini
Yield: about 15 small sandwiches
Autumn Compote

• 1 medium onion, chopped into about 3/8 inch dice
• 3 cloves garlic, coarsely chopped
• 4 slices bacon, sliced into ½ inch dice
• 1 medium pear, chopped into ½ inch dice
  
• 1 medium apple, chopped into ½ inch dice
  
• 6 fresh sage leaves, minced
• ½ tsp dried thyme
• 1 Tbs brown sugar
• 1/8 tsp hot red pepper flakes
• 1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil
• Salt and pepper to taste
• Panini
• 1 medium package sharp cheddar cheese, shredded
• mayonnaise
• 1 package appetizer-size rye breads

Preheat oven to 450 degrees. Put one jelly roll baking dish into oven to heat up. Meanwhile, assemble ingredients for compote. When the oven is preheated, dump the compote ingredients on the pan, being careful not to burn yourself, and spread out into a single layer. Bake, stirring occasionally, until golden brown, about 30 minutes. Remove and cool.

Meanwhile, shred the cheese and mix with mayonnaise to make a spreadable mixture. Lay out the rye bread slices. Spread the cheese mixture over one of the rye bread slices, spread a thin layer of the compote on top of this, top with another slice of bread. Repeat with remaining rye bread slices.

Layer four completed sandwiches on top of each other. Wrap tightly with plastic wrap, pushing down the sandwiches to be compact. Continue with the remaining sandwiches making packets of four flattened sandwiches. Place all of the packets in a shallow container and top with another container. (I used ceramic baking dishes.) Place a heavy object on the top container to weight in down. (I used a filled teapot.) Let sit to flatten.

When ready to serve, heat a ridged grilling pan on the stove over medium high heat. (Probably okay to use a regular frying pan but the ridged dish does make them look pretty cool.) Turn once, after heated and grill marks are toasty brown. Cook the other side. Serve warm, after slicing on the diagonal.


Italian Pot-stickers
Yield: about 60

• 14 oz ricotta cheese
• 1 large egg yolk
  
• 2 cups grated parmesan cheese
• 2 cups toasted and chopped pine nuts
• 2 cups mixed herbs, chopped – variably parsley, basil, mint and/or cilantro
• A grating of fresh nutmeg
• Salt and pepper
• 1 package gyoza wrappers – available at Asian markets. (The square wonton wrappers can be substituted but they are generally thicker than the gyoza wrappers which are round. If you use wonton wrappers, cut them to make them into rounds.)
• Water, to dip into for making the pot-stickers
• Any spicy tomato sauce of your choice

Mix the first seven ingredients together into combined. Take one gyoza wrapper, (keeping the others under a damp cloth,) and place a teaspoon of the filling on one half. Using your finger, dampen the edges of the wrapper with the water and fold into a semi-circle, sealing the edges by pressing. Take the half-circle dumpling, and sit it down with the filling side on the bottom and the sealed edges on the top. Gently press it down so that the filling pushes out a bit and it can sit upright on its own. Place on a baking sheet lined with either parchment paper or wax paper and proceed making dumplings with the rest of the wrappers and filling. Once done assembling the dumplings, you can refrigerate for a day or freeze them – or simply proceed with the cooking of them.

Pour enough peanut oil in a large skillet to create a thin layer. Heat over medium high heat until oil begins to shimmer but not smoke. Carefully lay the dumplings in the pan, filling side down, completely covering the bottom of the pan and cook until nicely browned and crusty on the bottom. Pour in 1/4 - 1/3 cup water, cover, and reduce heat to low. Cook until the dumpling dough is done (kind of translucent,) uncover, and cook off any remaining water if any.

Serve warm either topped with the tomato sauce or with the tomato sauce in a small bowl on the side for dippng.


Spiced Fried Almonds or Almendras Fritas
From Janet Mendel’s My Kitchen in Spain
Yield: 2 cups

• 2 Tbs olive oil
• 2 cups unskinned almonds
• 1 tsp salt
• Pinch of ground cumin
• ¼ tsp pimenton or smoky Spanish paprika

Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium heat and add the almonds. Fry them, stirring constantly, until they are toasted and very lightly browned, about 1 minute. Remove from the heat and immediately sprinkle with salt, cumin, and pimenton. Cool before serving.


Eat well, enjoy the small things, and remember to honor others in their passages of life.

Monday, December 19, 2005 -- Gougères

I have been experimenting with Gougères since 2003, when my New Year’s food-related resolution for that year was to become more proficient with flour. It was the year of the buttermilk biscuit, the tart, the empanada dough, and, of course, the Gougères. Gougères (pronounced goo zhehrs) are a classical French preparation made with a dough called pâte á choux (pronounced paht-ah-shoo) – which, in perhaps the more familiar version, is the same dough used for eclairs but minus the cheese. Gougères are basically little, round cheese puffs. Typically made with Gruyere cheese, they can also be made with Cheddar, Emanthal, Cantal, and probably other flavorful gratable cheeses as well. Served warm, they make a wonderful appetizer all on their own.

In my ongoing experimentations, I invented a variation a few months ago that I call “Prosciutto Flowers.” In this version, I take the warm round cheese puff; slice a tiny slit in the top; then, taking an approximate 3 inch square of thinly sliced prosciutto that has a small dab of Dijon mustard in the center, and using the larger end of a chopstick, I stuff the center of the piece of prosciutto into the puff leaving the edges sticking out like, well, I say it’s a flower. (That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.) Incidentally, it’s at these times, that Steve shakes his head and says something like “You’re going Martha Stewart on me again.”

Now the thing about pâte á choux dough is that it is REALLY sticky. I mean, GOOEY - like paste. After you beat all the ingredients together, you have this sticky mass of dough that you then transfer, somehow, on to a lined baking sheet creating approximate one inch rounded mounds. Previously, I’ve always done this by using two teaspoons, globbing up a small bit of dough with one teaspoon and then scraping it off with the other and patting it into a somewhat lumpy round mass. But, this weekend, I was faced with two events that I was responsible for bringing some hors d’oeuvres to so I needed to make double batches of this dough. Reading various recipes, I read that, if one used a pastry bag to pipe out the dough, it made the process go more quickly….at least, theoretically.

So that’s what I tried. And, perhaps someone with more skill than I can make this work. Or, perhaps someone with three hands could make this work. But, in my case, it was truly a mess. Envision gooey dough oozing out of the top of the bag, gooey dough all over my hands, and gooey dough all over the counter. Steve had to come to the rescue to provide another set of hands. So, after trying the pastry bag method with my first batch, I quickly returned to my tried-and-true method of two spoons scraping approximate mounds for the second batch. For one event, I made the “Prosciutto Flowers” and, for the second event, I dabbed a tiny bit of quince jam into the small slit I made in the tops of the warm puffs. Both are very good and so I’m including the recipe for Gougères below.

Eat Well, Enjoy the Small Things, and remember that, sometimes, simple instruments work best!

Gougères
A variation from Ruth Reichl’s The Gourmet Cookbook
Yield: about 55 hors d’oeuvres

• 1 cup water
• 1 stick unsalted butter
• ½ tsp salt
• 1 cup all-purpose flour
• 4-5 large eggs
• 1 ½ cups finely grated Gruyere cheese (or other flavorful cheese)
• 2 Tbs (or more) finely grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese
• Rounded ¼ tsp freshly grated nutmeg
• ¼ tsp freshly ground black pepper

Put racks in upper and lower thirds of oven and preheat oven to 375 degrees. Line two large baking sheets with parchment paper or lightly butter them.

Combine water, butter and salt in a 3-quart heavy saucepan and melt butter over low heat then, raising heat, bring to a full boil. Reduce heat to moderate, add flour all at once, and cook, stirring vigorously with a wooden spoon, until mixture pulls away from sides of pan, about 30 seconds. Continue to cook and stir to remove excess moisture for about another 1 – 1 ½ minutes. Remove from heat and let cool slightly, about 3 minutes.

Add 4 eggs, one at a time, beating well with the wooden spoon after each addition; batter will appear to separate but will become smooth once beaten. Mixture should be glossy and just stiff enough to hold soft peas and fall softly from a spoon. If it is too stiff, beat remaining egg in a small bowl and add to batter 1 tsp at a time, beating and then testing batter after each addition until it reaches desired consistency. Stir in the cheeses, nutmeg, and pepper.

Using your chosen methodology, create approximate 1 inch mounds of dough and place on the baking sheet about 1 inch apart. (You can freeze the mounds of dough at this point if you wish and bake later.) Bake, switching position of sheets halfway through baking, until puffed, golden, and crisp, about 20-30 minutes total. Serve warm, or, if desired, you can refrigerate or freeze the cooked Gougères in sealed plastic bags and reheat later.

Wednesday, December 21, 2005 -- clarklewis

I know I’ve written about the restaurant “clarklewis” before, but a recent propitious sighting of one of their salad recipes in the January, 2006 Food and Wine magazine allowed us to make a variation of this salad for a recent dinner party and, like so many of their salads, it was great. You see, when Steve and I go there for lunch, we ALWAYS order a couple of their salads because they are ALWAYS tremendous. Salads, in my opinion, aren’t so easy to make into something great. I mean, you can usually make a pretty good salad, but only rarely a great one.

So, it prompted me to write about this restaurant. We have now dragged many of our friends and family members to have lunch there and it has invariably become a favorite of theirs as well. Our friend Joanne sneaks off alone to clarklewis whenever she can to take a break from her busy, demanding job as head of the Multnomah County Department of Corrections. And, that’s the thing; you do have to go for lunch, not dinner. Because, as my friend Robin and I confirmed one night when we wandered in for dinner, it is REALLY dark and REALLY noisy at night.

But, in the day, the spacious light-filled one-time loading dock, built in 1910, is an inviting space to share glorious food. You also have the privilege of watching the orange t-shirted staff busily working in the open kitchen. You can see the whole hog hanging from the ceiling, watch the butcher slicing off hunks of meat for the evening dinner, sight the pasta maker in the rear rolling out and cutting up the superb fresh pasta, see the salad maker carefully and precisely dishing out the individual salads; and sometimes you get a glimpse of the couple behind this whole scene – Naomi and Michael Hebberoy.

The Hebberoys opened up, essentially, an illegal restaurant in 2001 called Family Supper that they operated out of their rented bungalow. They fed family and friends by invitation only, and received payment for this privilege on an honor system basis. I, unfortunately, never had the privilege of eating at this underground food station. But once they reluctantly sought a license for this undertaking, their heads started popping up more publicly on the Portland food scene. Soon, they launched clarklewis, which earned The Oregonian’s award for Restaurant of the Year in 2004 when it had been open only three months at the time (something unheard of before and which caused some raised eyebrows and speculation about the relationship between the Oregonian’s food critic and the Hebberoys).

Since then, they’ve also popped up in some national food magazines such as the aforementioned January, 2006, Food and Wine. Food and Wine labels Michael Hebberoy as a “Food Provocateur,” - which caused me to pause given that this is an age of heightened national security. An agent provocateur is a “secret agent who incites suspected persons to commit illegal acts” or “a person assigned to provoke unrest, violence, debate, or argument within a group while acting as a member of the group but covertly representing the interests of another.” (Hmmm, I wonder if President Bush was tapping Michael’s phone calls to Italy to purchase truffles.) As yet, I have not seen any real unrest in the local food community as a result of the Hebberoys, only positive accolades. I guess that Michael Hebberoy earned the title in part because of his “shady” background in running Family Supper and because of his view of himself as a “revolutionary” on the restaurant scene. He is currently out there “shopping a proposal” for a book called Kill the Restaurant.

In any case, I am including our variation of his ”Triple-Fennel Salad with Pink Grapefruit and Black Olives” recipe that we found in the Food and Wine magazine. Our version is simpler. But when we served it last weekend to our friends Joanne, Paul, Denise, Dave, Virginia & Gerard, it was deemed great. So, we are planning to make it again when we have our Christmas dinner with Kellie, Bill, Ryan, Jordan, and Pat this Friday night. This recipe does call for oil-cured olives, not always found in regular grocery stores, but really do add something special to this dish.

Eat Well, Enjoy the Small Things, and, next time I go to clarklewis, maybe I should provoke a little unrest myself.


Fennel Salad with Navel Oranges and Black Olives
Yield: 8 servings

• 6 navel oranges
• 2 medium shallots, minced
• ¼ cup plus 2 Tbs extra-virgin olive oil
• 1 tsp honey
• Salt and freshly ground pepper
• 2 medium fennel bulbs (1 ½ lbs) halved, cored and sliced paper-thin crosswise
• 2/3 cup black oil-cured olives, pitted and coarsely chopped

Using that old 4-H technique and a sharp knife, peel and section the oranges over a bowl - squeezing out all of the juice from the remaining membranes.

Transfer ½ cup of the juice to a large bowl. Add the shallots to the juice and let them soak for at least ten minutes. Add the olive oil, honey, salt and pepper and whisk to combine. Add the sliced fennel to this and proceed to serving or it can sit in the refrigerator for a few hours.

When ready to serve, divide the fennel among individual salad plates. Scatter the orange sections and olives on top of each serving. Serve.

Wednesday, December 28, 2005 -- Sweet & Sour Christmas

No, no, no…I mean the FOOD, not the experience. In this case, it was the combination of tart lemon curd paired with sweet crumbly scones. This turned out to be the perfect thing to take over to our friends’ home for Christmas morning.

You see, Oregon in December is DARK and WET. At this time of year, dawn doesn’t break, it dribbles in slowly. The days are merely a succession of black and gray tones. I’m not sure you can really call it daylight. The morning starts black, stays black a long time, moves into charcoal gray, then to stormy-sea gray, then to…well, you get my point. You don’t really get into the pale grays until about midday and they only last, at most, a couple of hours. (Unless, of course, it starts to rain again at which point the day quickly plummets back down the color spectrum.)

So, when I read about how to make brightly-colored and brightly-flavored lemon curd during the week before Christmas– I took to it like a cat to a flaming log fire. A smash of color and taste was just what we needed! And, when Christmas morning arrived as dismal as our recent days have been, I instead greeted it with a luminous jar of yellow cheer that seemed to glow like, well, Rudolph’s nose could have glowed had it been, that is, yellow. Lather some of that sunny cream on top of a freshly-baked warm scone and you’ve got the perfect antidote for a drippy day. That plus watching a cheerful nine-year-old girl merrily open her many presents!

The appreciation I had for this welcome zing of color, smell, and taste made me do some reading about lemons. I’m always interested in the history of food and, particularly, the history of food production. The lemons I used probably came from California – which is the biggest producer of lemons in North America. It didn’t start out that way. Florida led lemon production in the 19th century, but the “Great Freeze” of 1894-1895 killed the Florida lemon groves. Florida did start replanting some of their groves in the middle of the last century, but even these have taken some hits in the freezes Florida has had since then.

It was the California Gold Rush that caused that state’s current lead in lemon grove acreage. In this fevered rush for wealth, the population of California increased by tenfold. Fresh fruits and vegetables were scarce and, lacking available sources for Vitamin C, miners started developing scurvy. So, they were willing to pay the outrageous price of $1.00 for a single lemon to keep this from happening. That type of profit margin caused a lot of lemon trees to be planted in California. And, as it turns out, the more temperate climate of southern California as compared to Florida has helped keep its firm lead in lemon production.

So, that’s your history lesson for today. I’m including the Lemon Curd recipe below to help cheer up any dreary days you might have to face.

Eat well, Enjoy the Small Things, and bring a little glow into someone else’s life.


Silky Lemon Curd
Yield: about 12 ounces

• 2 packed tablespoons of grated lemon zest (use a microplane for zesting ease)
• 2/3 cup lemon juice (this will take 3-4 large lemons or 6 or so small lemons)
• ¾ cup granulated sugar
• 3 eggs
• 3 egg yolks
• ¾ of a stick of butter cut into six pieces

In a bowl, thoroughly whisk together eggs and egg yolks. Set aside.

Over low heat, in a large, heavy nonreactive saucepan (or, if your saucepans aren’t heavy enough, use a double boiler), melt the sugar in the lemon juice along with the zest, whisking as you go.

Whisk in the eggs, turning heat to medium. Keep whisking as you cook so the eggs won’t clump together until the sauce thickens into the consistency of a thin pudding.

Stir in the chunks of butter, one at a time, whisking to melt each clump. Remove from heat. (It will thicken as it cools.)

Pour mixture through a fine mesh to remove the flecks of cooked egg and the zest. Cover with plastic wrap, pressing the wrap onto the surface of the curd to prevent a skin from forming, or pour directly into a jar. Seal and refrigerate.

Friday, December 30, 2005 -- Over-the-Top

Just a short one. I’ve been reading about writing about food. I’m reading Dianne Jacob’s Will Write for Food. I’m reading Holly Hughes’ Best Food Writing 2004 and her subsequent edition for 2005. I’m humbled, awed, and trying to overcome thoughts of “I could never do anything this good,” by countering with “Just do what you can.” Each week, I read our local wine guy Bruce Bauer‘s very enjoyable emails describing what will be at his Friday night’s wine-tastings and simply admire the singular voice of his writing. It is truly the essence of him. I’ve been exploring the many food-blogs and websites now on-line and realize there is a lot of good stuff being written out there.

And, then there is the stuff which I consider to be just a little over-the-top. Stuff that causes me to, well, giggle a little. Stuff I could even imagine showing up on a Saturday Night Live skit. So, I thought I would share a couple of excerpts with you.

Try this one out for an audio version. Go to http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/food/ and listen to Hsiao-Ching Chou’s interview with Michael Hebberoy titled The World According to Michael Hebberoy. Remember Hebberoy of Family Supper and clarklewis fame? Well, I do find the food served at his restaurants to be very, very good. But, as one local food-blogger put it, he perhaps “needs to grow up.” I would put it differently, myself. I think he would benefit greatly by a little humor and humility. Not that I necessarily disagree with what he has to say. But the WAY he puts things is, in my opinion, pretentiously over-the-top. If you make it to the end of this interview (Steve couldn’t), I think you’ll hear Ms. Chou giggling at him a bit.

Then try out another Portland food-blogger found at http://www.extramsg.com/ and scroll down to his And sometimes I even do the dishes to read through what he described as his Holiday Dinner Disaster 2005. Come on! Is this about enjoying a meal with friends or is this simply about gluttony and showing off? But, can’t you just see it working as a Saturday Night Live Skit? Remember their parody of Julia Child?

So, these are not the voices I aspire to. But, if I could write like Bruce Bauer, I’d be very happy! If you want to get on his email list, contact him at vinobuys@qwest.net. He also has a website, vinobuys.com. His wine recommendations are good, he often recommends inexpensive wine, and he’ll be happy to ship. Plus, he’s a great guy and a witty writer.

Eat Well, Enjoy the Small Things, and avoid going over-the-top in all things in life.

Saturday, December 31, 2005 -- 2006 New Year Resolutions

It’s December 31st and its time to make my 2006 official New Year’s resolutions as related to food.

Man, this has been a tough one for me - which should have been a clue that I was approaching this in the wrong way. Because, in essence, this is just supposed to be a fun, lighthearted, and motivating exercise – not an arduous climb up a mountain.

I should have known I was heading down the wrong alley when, after receiving the January, 2006 edition of Gourmet magazine (which, being their 65th anniversary, includes their choices of the “best” recipes for every year since the magazine’s inception in 1941) I started thinking, “Hey, I can resolve to make every one of these recipes in 2006!” They all looked to be great recipes. There were things I hadn’t tried and wanted to. Things I had failed at previously but wanted to try again. Things I wouldn’t automatically gravitate to but thought were worth trying. And, yes, a few things I thought I wouldn’t like or don’t generally eat.

Well, obviously, this adds up to be 65 recipes to try out. (Pause.) Well, upon reflection, I decided to cut out the desserts. This reduced the list to 53. I thought, “Sure, I can do that in a year.” Which, of course I could, but somehow I didn’t, you notice, jump right out there and make my list public.

Then, this morning on a drippy walk through the garden, I realized, like I said, I was doing this all wrong. This is not supposed to be any big achievement. If anything, it should be a bit whimsical. And with that burden off my shoulders, I quickly devised my list and here it is.

• Make some savory Madeleines
• Experiment more with using tea in cooking, particularly lapsang souchong tea
• Make some preserved lemons and try them out in various recipes
• Experiment with making Korean food

So, there it is. It’s official. And, sometime in the coming year, you’ll be hearing from me about each of these endeavors. (And maybe some of those Gourmet recipes as well.)

Steve has devised his own 2006 resolution which is to try out some Danish-styled schnapps recipes that our friend Monica introduced us to. These take a while to age but he already has three batches going in the basement – Apple Schnapps, Pear Schnapps, and a Christmas Schnapps. So, Schnappy New Year to all.

Eat well, Enjoy the Small Things, and make your own 2006 resolutions (or not) but, if you do, remember to keep them fun. Or, you can endorse the path (see below) of Calvin (of Calvin and Hobbes fame) instead.

HOBBES: “Are you making any resolutions for the New Year?”
CALVIN: “Yeah, I’m resolving to just wing it and see what happens.”
HOBBES: “So you’re staying the course?”
CALVIN: “I stick to my strengths.”

Sunday, January 8, 2006 -- Sake

“Hey! You’ve got sake!” I exclaimed.

We were at our wine guy Bruce’s shop, Vino, on our typical Saturday excursion to take shameless advantage of his free Saturday tastings and to make sure our wine larder for the week was full. But this Saturday, nested in among the tiers of wines, were three smaller bottles of sake. We had just discussed sake with Bruce the previous weekend – I can’t remember how the subject was raised. In any case, Bruce had related that one of his distributors had brought by some higher-end sakes one day, providing him with his first experience of trying a range of sakes in the thirty to eighty dollar per bottle range. It had been an eye-opening experience. He said that he had thought about stocking some of these sakes, but had just not gotten around to it as yet.

Well, he apparently got around to it, because there they were. And it was fortuitous for us because I was planning on cooking some Japanese food that night and we were on the lookout for a white wine that would go with it. But then we found the sake and jumped on the sake express instead.

But, which sake was the question. We studied the three small bottles. The first was called “Mukune: Root of Innocence” and described as “Mellow, Full, Dry.” The second was called “Chiyonosono: Sacred Power” and described as “Rich, Full-Flavored, Mellow.” The third was called “Kanbara: Bride of the Fox” and described as “Fragrant, Crisp, Pure.” (Whoa – that bride one could be dangerous!) We ended up going with “Sacred Power.” It seemed a more fitting choice for a couple of fifty-something-year-old folks who could no longer be called innocent.

Sake in hand, we headed off to the second part of our Saturday excursion – that of visiting a newly-opened Asian market, well, essentially a mini-mall on 82nd Avenue. Those of you who are familiar with Portland’s 82nd Avenue are, I’m sure, more likely to relate it to fast food, prostitution, midnight drag-racing, pawn shops, car dealers, and general seediness. Some people want to change that, and one of those is the young Michael Liu, fresh out of the University of Washington Business School, who envisions the area as becoming Portland’s new Chinatown. With that vision, he created Fubonn, an expansive Asian food market at the center of his new mini-mall that is fast-filling with a variety of mostly Asian retail stores.

I was once again on the lookout for some specialty items needed for the evening’s menu: kombu (dried kelp,) katsuo bushi (dried bonito flakes,) and ginkgo nuts. These were needed for the Japanese Savory Egg Custards I planned to serve along with Spinach with Sesame Shoyu dressing and whatever else we saw at the market that looked good. We finally were able to find each of these items - which was not such an easy matter in this commodious space with a difficult-to-comprehend product placement plan and with many staff who have not yet achieved English-as-a-second-language. And we were able to round out our menu plans with some fish I planned to cook en papillote with ginger and lemongrass and a simple cucumber and radish salad. (Plus, a bonus - a perfect-looking duck with the head and feet still attached that is now nestled in our freezer head- first so that every time you open the freezer you say “Oh my gosh, there’s a duck in our freezer!”)

Dinner was very good. Steve loved the custards, although I think they need some fine-tuning. We agreed that the spinach was the real star, so I’m including that recipe below. But, what I really want to tell you about is sake. Because, after sampling “Sacred Power,” our little bottle of sake that probably costs about $30-$40 if purchased in the full- size version, I thought I should learn about what makes one sake better than another.

I had tried sake before. The ones I tried had been delivered to me warm in their little ceramic carafes with matching handle-less cups to sip from in various local Japanese restaurants. Bruce tells me that most of these restaurants are reluctant to purchase higher-end sakes from their distributors. They probably don’t think they can sell them. And, to be truthful, I probably wouldn’t have bought them either. But, that was before “Sacred Power.” I now have a whole new vision of sake. So, what makes one sake better than another?

To start with, sake is brewed from a particular type of rice that is grown to make, well, sake. Sake rice has its own particular composition of starches and proteins and is, apparently, harder to grow than the types of rice one generally eats. There are some less-common specialty sakes, but the more common sakes come in five general categories. Mostly, these categories vary based on how much of the external rice kernel is polished off in the milling process and whether distilled alcohol is added to the final sake product. Each category has its own general flavor profile based on the brewing methods employed. They are:

• Junmai-shu – which is pure rice wine with at least 30% of the rice polished away and no adding of distilled alcohol.
• Honjozo-shu – with at least 30% of the rice polished away and a tad of distilled alcohol being added.
• Ginjo-shu – with at least 40% of the rice polished away and, if the bottle is labeled Ginjo, some distilled alcohol was added. If labeled Junmai Ginjo, (which was the case with “Sacred Power,” no distilled alcohol was added.
• Daiginjo-shu – with at least 50% of the rice polished away and, again, may or may not have distilled alcohol added.
• Namazake – a special 5th designation for unpasteurized sake and could apply to either of the previous four classifications.

So, in addition to the milling process contributing (but not necessarily ruling) the quality of the sake, there are other factors that contribute to the cost of the sake you buy. There are various grades of sake rice, the brewing processes vary in their degree of automation (premium sakes are made by hand), the size of the batches made vary (the best sakes are is generally done in smaller batches), and the length of fermentation varies (sakes fermented for longer periods are generally better).

Sake has been around for a long time but, fortunately, it has improved over time. One of the earlier cruder versions of sake was known as kuchi-kami sake. This was a simple process. Basically, someone (preferably a virgin) just chewed the rice up and spit it into a large vat. The enzymes in the (preferably) virgin’s saliva and the natural airborne yeast caused a fermentation process and, voila, alcohol. (It’s not clear about the food-pairing that went with kuchi-kami sake.)

So, that’s sake for you. Our sake is gone. But I do have a good supply of kombu, katsuo bushi, and ginkgo nuts to play with. Beyond trying to perfect the egg custards, I’m not yet sure how I’ll use them…but I’m sure I’ll think of something.

Eat Well, Enjoy the Small Things, and, next time you go to the food market, buy something you’ve never tried before and try pairing it with some good sake! (And, with the higher-end sakes, try serving them slightly cool.)

Spinach with Sesame Shoyu Dressing
Adapted from January, 2006 Gourmet magazine
Yield: six first course or four side dish servings

• 2 lb. fresh spinach, rinsed thoroughly three times and stems removed
• 2 Tbs lightly toasted sesame seeds
• 1 ½ Tbs unseasoned rice vinegar
• 2 Tbs mirin (sweet Japanese wine)
• 2 tsp shoyu (Japanese all-purpose soy sauce or its equivalent)
• ½ tsp sesame oil
• 1/8 tsp salt

In several batches, stir-fry the spinach with water still clinging to its leaves until wilted over medium-high heat. When each batch is wilted, place in a colander and, using a spatula, push down on the spinach to remove liquid. When cool enough to handle, take handfuls of the spinach and squeeze to remove extra liquid. Place the handfuls on a large towel in separate rows about three inches apart from each other. Starting at the long end of the towel, tightly roll it up enclosing the rows of hand-squeezed piles. Push on the rolled towel to remove any extra liquid. Unroll the towel, transfer the mounds of spinach to a cutting board and coarsely chop.

On a sixteen inch sheet of plastic wrap, place half of the chopped spinach into a log that is about 1 ½ inches round. Place the other half on a second sheet of plastic wrap. Using the plastic wrap and molding with your hands, roll the spinach into a nicely-rounded, compact log. Remove the wrap then cut the logs into 1 ½ inch segments. Arrange the segments on to a platter.

Finely grind 2 tsps of the toasted sesame seeds. (I used a coffee grinder that I use for grinding spices.) Transfer the ground seeds to a bowl or liquid measuring cup. Whisk in the peanut oil, rice vinegar, miring, soy sauce, sesame oil, and salt. Drizzle the dressing over the the segments of spinach. Top each segment with the remaining sesame seeds. Serve.

NOTE: Although the above approach ends with a very nice presentation, for an easier version, skip the log-rolling and proceed directly to seasoning wilted spinach with the dressing.

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© 2005, 2006 Deborah Young