The Fullness of Fall

This has been one of those weeks that not only reconfirms why it is that I live in this gorgeous part of the country, but also why it is that fall is my favorite season. Although a part of me wants summer to never end, the chilly fall air that signals the fall harvest also reminds me that fall is what it's all about. All of that winter planning, spring anticipation, and painstaking work in the fields is finally realized for a few short weeks in late fall, when the fullness of the harvest is right there, in your face. That's what I encountered at the market this week. Fall, in my face.

For some reason, these late-season crops excite me even more than the peak-of-summer excess of tomatoes, basil, and squash. The gorgeous greens, fungi, and fruit are all so fresh, tempting, and perfect; I am reminded of M.F.K. Fisher who experienced the same sensation in the markets she frequented in Europe. The gluttony of wanting all of this freshness overwhelms you, and you find yourself leaving the market with a basket that is ridiculously full--much more so than you had planned on. While I did manage to keep my purchases this week to a reasonable amount (no small feat, I might add), I was however so enamored with them that I had to show you the entire worth of my riches, so that you too might marvel in all that fall has to offer.

Clockwise, from left to right: the freshest eggs I've had in years, with deep golden-orange yolks, fresh black turtle beans, lovely Washington fresh organic Braeburn apples (so tart and juicy!), red Kale, fresh from the dirt carrots, the most perfect red leaf lettuce ever, a giant Bolete (fresh porcini) mushroom, monster jalapenos, and tomatillos. Oh, and I also bought some frozen Loki salmon which will be perfect with that commie kale.

Rather than throwing all of my treasures together into one "market" meal, I am trying to make it last this week by using bits and pieces every day. Sunday was a good day. We started off with simple, delicious scrambled eggs. Later that day we used the tomatillos, along with some of the chilis and garlic, to make a salsa verde for enchiladas. I also cooked up some of the fresh black beans for this meal and they were remarkably good; "Not dry at all!" was the quote of the day from my husband. I could definitely tell the difference in quality over your standard canned or even dried black beans. The apples have also been a daily treat, and the lettuce has made for delightful salads.

The freshness of fall is of course a mixed blessing. Nothing this fresh can last forever. Soon enough I will show up at the market some Saturday and the brilliant green treasures currently dotting the landscape will be long gone, replaced by monotone potatoes and mealy apples. But for now, it's there, so I will certainly enjoy it.

Bearded Tooth

Every now and then in life you stumble across something that is so bizarre, so grotesque, that you just have to have it. It could be that shell "painting" of the adorable cat or the pea-soup colored chair (yes, that's still sitting in our living room); for me this past weekend it was the Bearded Tooth mushroom. Beautiful in its hideousness, it immediately struck me as something I must have. Nestled there among all of the other delights at my favorite "Found and Foraged Edibles" at the market, even the proprietor was covetous of my purchase when I walked away with my six dollar, six inch beast of a mushroom.

A member of the tooth fungus family, the hericium erinaceus is prized for its edibility when it is very young and fresh. Apparently it turns sour with age. Fortunately mine must have been young and fresh because it was quite tasty and not a bit sour. Soft whitish in color, it was a giant ball of brain-like material; shooting off of the main core there were all sorts of dendrites or branches. These branches are apparently the "beard-like spines" that grow outwards as the root end hangs on for dear life to its host, which is most commonly an oak or other hardwood tree.

Regardless of its growing habits, I was quite happy to come across my new friend. My biggest problem with it was knowing how to clean it. I mushroom-brushed the outside, but that really did no good considering all of the open cavities within the branches for dirt and grit to hide. (As it was, I did get a few gritty bites. I'll have to ask the forager what to do about that next week!) I wanted to keep the meal very simple so as not to overwhelm the star of the night. So, after slicing it finely, I simply sauteed the Bearded Tooth in some olive oil and a touch of garlic. In another pan I cooked some beautiful chard leaves with a shallot and then poured four beaten eggs over the top of the chard and let that cook until it was frittata-like. To serve I merely put the sauteed mushrooms on top of the frittata pieces and there was a lovely weeknight dinner.

And how did it taste, you ask? Quite meaty, with an almost chicken-y taste or quality to it. It also had great texture, not slimy or soft in the least bit but rather firm and fleshy. All in all, a pleasantly bizarre find after all.

Happy Cows

I'm not a political person, but if there was anything that could get me to be political in any way, it would most definitely be food. The book I am reading right now, The Omnivore's Dilemma by Michael Pollan, is threatening to do just that--turn me into a foodie with a cause! Well, maybe not quite that extreme. I'm certainly not going to be lobbying outside of any capitol buildings anytime soon, but the in-depth look at where our food comes from that Pollan is espousing has definitely heightened my awareness about the foods that we eat. Or rather, is this really food that we're eating? After thinking about all of the processing and synthetic additives that go into some of our more modern "convenient" foods, I'm beginning to wonder.

You may be like me in assuming that beef and most other meats are one of the few "unprocessed" food items left in the grocery store. After all, a cow is a cow, right? Well, wrong. Sure they all look the same, moo, produce milk and a lot of manure, etc., but not all cows are created equal. Pollan's account of his exploits into the industrial world of "Making Meat" truly frightened me. How is it that we turned this peaceful, dopey, ruminant from a grass eater into a depressed grain eater? Cattle are not supposed to eat corn; their digestive systems can't handle it. The other thing they can't handle is swimming in their own shit, which is why they are constantly sick and therefore pumped full of antibiotics and other chemicals. As a veterinarian said at one of these industrial meat factories "Hell, if you gave them lots of grass and space, I wouldn't have a job."

What I've decided after reading this eye-opening book so far is that not only do I want to avoid putting nasty chemicals into my body, but I most certainly don't want to support those who profit from these meat factories. Enter grass-fed beef. Argentina has been doing it for years, and finally a few small farmers here are realizing that letting cows eat what they're supposed to eat is actually a good thing. They don't get sick and therefore they don't need drugs. The cows are happy, the farmers are happy, I'm happy. So you can imagine my extreme delight when I stumbled into the "grass-fed beef" guy at the farmer's market this past Saturday. A small production based in Colville, Washington, he's probably been there all along but I just didn't notice. "Grass-fed" previously meant about the same thing to me as "organic"; a bit healthier and a bit more expensive. This Saturday was different. I was so excited that I quickly scooped up some "spud nuts" (tiny, thumb-nail sized multi-colored potatoes) to go along with my pound of frozen stew meat ($7) and rushed home to make a soul-warming stew. Was the meat all that extraordinarily different? Not necessarily, although a stew may not be the best vehicle for comparing quality of meat. It was, however, noticeably tender and very flavorful. Do I feel better knowing that I'm supporting happy cows? Absolutely.

Grass-Fed Beef Stew

1 large onion, diced
2 Tbsp. olive oil
1 lb. beef stew meat, cut into 1 inch pieces
2 Tbsp. flour
1 Tbsp. whole coriander seeds
2 tsp. whole cumin seeds
1 Tbsp. chili powder
Salt and pepper
4 cloves garlic, peeled and crushed with the back of a knife
1-2 serranos sliced thinly (if heat is desired)
1 cup red wine
4 cups beef broth
1/2 pound small potatoes (or large ones) cut into 1 inch pieces

1 delicata squash
Salt, pepper, olive oil

Heat 1 Tbsp. olive oil in large pan over medium low heat. Add onion and cook with the lid on for about 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. Once the onions begin to brown slightly around the edges and turn translucent, remove the lid and turn the heat to medium. Continue cooking and stirring frequently until the onions are brown throughout. Remove onions to a place and return the pan to the heat.

While the onions are browning prepare the beef. Using a spice or coffee grinder, grind the whole coriander and cumin. Add the beef to a bowl and toss with the flour, ground spices, chili powder, and salt and pepper until all of the dry ingredients are absorbed by the beef.

After the onions have been removed, heat the remaining olive oil in the pan and add the beef. Cook over high heat without stirring for about 5 minutes. Turn once, and cook until the other side is mostly brown, another 4-5 minutes. At this point the flour mixture and onion goo should be getting nice and gummy on the bottom of the pan. Add the garlic and onions and cook, stirring frequently, for about 1-2 minutes or until you begin to small the garlic and chilies. Add the wine and quickly scrape the bottom and sides of the pan as the wine deglazes that wonderful goo--that's what gives it all of the flavor! Once the bottom of the pan seems mostly clean and the wine has thickened and reduced, add the stock and potatoes. Bring to a boil, then partially cover and simmer over low heat for about an hour, making sure that it is at a very slow simmer throughout.

While the beef is cooking, heat the oven to 350 degrees. Cut the delicata squash in half lengthwise, then scoop out the seeds. Sprinkle both halves with salt, pepper and olive oil and rub it evenly over the fleshy sides. Place the squash flesh-side down on a foil-lined baking sheet and bake for 30-45 minutes or until a fork is easily inserted into the flesh. Once the squash is cool enough to touch, cut the ends off and peel back outer skin with a knife. Then cut the flesh into 1 inch pieces.

To serve, add the squash to the finished soup and enjoy. This stew, as with all stews, is best cooked a day or two before it is enjoyed which makes it the perfect weekend project which can then be enjoyed on a busy weekday!

Cipollini & Fingerlings

I realize that it’s been ages since I last wrote. Eons. Yes I have been eating, but no, I haven’t been going to the Farmer’s Market. I realize that my actions are completely absurd. Why, you are asking yourself, does this crazy person frequent the Farmer’s Market when it’s rainy, cold, and there’s not a green thing in sight, only to forgo its summertime bounty? Chance for one reason, and poor planning for the other. Chance has taken me away from this fare city more Saturdays than I care to count in the past six weeks, and those weekends when I was in the neighborhood, the market was not (honestly, guiltily) top on my agenda for one reason or another. And although I kind of hate to admit this, I think that I actually prefer the market when it is not in full swing. There’s something so hard-core, romantic, elemental, about going out in search of food when it’s not really a nice day to be out at all. That, and the market is really a pain in the summer. Strollers, wanderers, lines, I don’t have the patience for it. What I like are those dreary spring or fall days when it’s just the farmers and me, or so it seems.

While there were certainly more people there than just the farmers and myself this past weekend, my husband and I found time in our crazy Saturday to stop in at Pike Place Market. After a quick lunch of clam chowder at Emmett Watson’s Oyster Bar, we fought our way through the tourists and, once breaking through the mobs, ended up at the peaceful and roomy Sosio’s Produce. (You think I’m being sarcastic, but I’m not. I’ve discovered that at Pike’s nobody thinks to get off the main drag. Everyone hangs out in the center aisleway, all bunched together like the sardines a few stalls down. But just a few steps into one of the “stalls” and you’re alone. Beautiful.) The produce guys here are awesome. They are so blessedly opinionated and passionate about produce.Very New York, as my husband says. The peaches, I’m sad to report, were officially done, but the produce they’ve been replaced with is (almost) as luscious and exciting. Potatoes and onions, among other squash etc. now fills the shelves. No, no, these are not your ordinary potatoes and onions but rather tender and fresh fall treats.

Fingerling potatoes are one of my favorite delicacies, mostly because you rarely find really small, really fresh ones. About thumb-sized, these are actually baby long white potatoes. When cooked they are remarkably “potatoey” in both texture and flavor, as opposed to a dry, flaky russet. Cipollini (pronounced with an Italian ch) onions are also small, which is only one of the many reasons that they pair well with fingerlings. Not true onions at all, these slightly flattened spheres are actually bulbs of the grape hyacinth. They are quite sweet and succulent when cooked, yet retain a slightly tart, bittersweet quality as well. They do require a bit of prep time, but it is so worth it.

Being incredibly fall-like this weekend, the weather provided me the perfect opportunity to pair these two. I decided to make a sort of hunter’s stew or “blorch” as my dad would say. What a perfect excuse to open up an old bottle of wine, sit in front of the fire, and enjoy all the best that the new season has to offer.

Braised Chicken, Cipollini, and Fingerlings
About 1/2 pound cippolini onions
2 links linguica sausage, thinly sliced
1 whole chicken cut into 2 boneless breasts, legs and things (reserve the wings and body for stock or another use)
About 1/2 pound fingerling potatoes, cut in half long-ways
1/2 cup white wine
2 cups chicken stock
1 14-oz can large butter beans (or simmer dried beans slowly until tender, but this takes about 3 hours and a ton of water as they tend to really drink it up)
2 Tbsp. fresh thyme, chopped
Olive oil, salt and pepper

Top prepare onions, bring a sauce pan of water to a boil. Add onions, skins and all, to the water and boil for about 4-5 minutes. Drain and quickly run cold water over them. When cool enough to work with, cut both tip and root ends off, then slide the skin off. It should peel off easily, but if the first layer of onions come off as well, that’s alright.

Heat large saute pan over medium high heat and evenly brown sausage pieces, turning occassionally. Remove sausage to a paper towel-lined plate. Season chicken pieces with salt and pepper and add to the remaining fat in the pan. Without turning, let brown for about 5 minutes, then turn and brown the remaining side. Remove chicken to plate with sausage.

Add about 2 Tbsp. olive oil to the saute pan. Arrange fingerlings flesh-side down in a single layer (as much as possible). Without turning, allow to brown for about 5 minutes, then stir and continue browning for another 5 minutes or so. Add white wine, deglazing brown bits on the bottom of the pan (about 1 minute). Place chicken on top of the potatoes, then cover with broth and onions. Cover and reduce heat to medium low. Braise, turning down the heat if it is bubbling too rapidly, for about 20 minutes. Uncover and add sausage, onions, beans, and thyme. Cover and continue cooking another 10 minutes or until chicken is thoroughly cooked and potatoes are tender when a fork is inserted in them. Season to taste with salt and pepper and enjoy!