Geoduck

Without a doubt, the geoduck (pronounced gooey-duck) is the oddest looking creature I have ever eaten. It is essentially a giant clam, but its extremely long (and phallic) siphon makes it look more like something you would expect to see on B-rated horror movie than on your dinner plate. And the 2-pound specimen I bought from Taylor Shellfish Farms was not cheap either. At $12 a pound, you pay for its rarity. Taylor's Shellfish farms the geoduck, but according to him, most of his inventory is sold in Japan where it undoubtedly fetches an even higher price tag. I've seen the geoduck at his stand at the market a few times before, but I finally got up the nerve this weekend to tackle the task.

The most daunting part of eating a geoduck is preparing it. Following the directions of the expert I bought the geoduck from, here is what I did:


After blanching the entire clam in boiling water for about one minute, I ran it under cold water, then pulled off the outer membrane of the siphon.

The siphon was then ready to be cut off and sliced for sashimi.

To get to the meat inside of the clam, I first ran a small knife around the outside of the shell,

then pulled out the meat until the (quite obvious) innards came apart from the flesh.

To prepare the clam meat, I cut it into small hunks (after first making sure to rinse off any sand) and sauteed it quickly with green onions and oyster mushrooms. I was told not to overcook it, to be careful as you would with a scallop, so I put the geoduck in after the mushrooms were mostly done cooking and let it saute for only about 3 minutes or so. Not wanting to overwhelm its flavor in any way, I finished it off with a tablespoon of butter and a light sprinkling of salt and pepper. We served the geoduck, both cooked and sashimi, with some rice and baby bok choy from the market.

The concensus? Surprisingly good. Something about the exoticness of the geoduck made it seem like it was going to be difficult to stomach. I was just coming off of the flu when I prepared this, so granted, it probably wasn't the best timing to be trying something out of the ordinary. But, not only was it not scary to eat, it was actually quite delicious. My biggest complaint was with the sashimi-ed siphon, which I didn't cut nearly thin enough. In hindsight, I should have sliced it into paper-thin pieces instead of chunky rounds. Because of this, the sashimi was my least favorite part. It was very briny, like an overly briny oyster, and a bit too crunchy. A dip in soy sauce helped to mellow out the flavor, but unfortunately we were out of wasabi, which was sorely lacking. The cooked clam, on the other hand, was a delight. The meat was interesting, as some pieces were more like a chewy clam in texture and others were almost buttery-tender. Granted, my sickness-dulled taste buds couldn't detect much in the way of unique flavor, but it did almost seem to be a cross between chicken and clam. It was certainly more of a texture thing, with most of the flavor coming from the mushrooms and butter.

While I had success with the clam meat, I feel like I need to give the siphon another chance. That, and I'd like to have the benefit of all of my taste buds! So for those reasons, the geoduck is certainly something I will try again in the future.

Mangalitsa Fat

Remember last year when I paid a bunch of money to try the new and improved pork, mangalitsa? Well, knowing that the fat from the mangalitsa was the most prized part of this pig, I saved the copious amounts that cooked off of my roast by putting tablespoon-sized lumps of the chilled, solidified fat in the freezer. I've used the fat throughout the year, whenever I remember it mostly. But the other night my final tablespoon of mangalitsa fat transformed an ordinary chicken thigh into an extraordinary meal. I made sure that the chicken was very dry, then doused it liberally with salt and pepper. The fat was heated until it was almost smoking, then I browned the chicken on each side for about 5 minutes before tenting the pan with foil and putting it in the oven. I cooked it at 375° for about 15 minutes, flipping it once. I can't explain how the fat made the chicken taste so delicious, but it was just, well, extremely tasty. The fat had created a crispy and succulent crust on the outside (even despite the fact that it was skinless), while the meat inside was juicy, tender, and dripping with flavor. The chicken was just your average grocery store bird, so maybe all of their claims about this miraculous fat are right? Who would have thought that something we take for granted every day, simple fat, could be so significant and transformative. So save your fat!

Celeriac

While living in France as a sixteen year-old exchange student, I quickly grew to crave all of the fresh vegetables I had come to take for granted as a part of my California upbringing. Fresh leafy greens, silky avocados, the crunch of a raw carrot—these are good, fresh foods, right? France has good food of course, but where were the vegetables? The closest thing I ever got to a green vegetable on my plate was the knobby, ugly, celeriac. By the time it made it to the dinner table, the celeriac had been cooked to near oblivion, so that it in no way resembled a vegetable. It probably was boiled and then mashed before being served on my plate alongside the usual slab of beef. I have since come to appreciate celeriac and I was excited to try my hand at preparing it when I saw it at them market last week.

Celeriac is the gnarly base of a plant that is specifically cultivated for its root. Thus, try as they might, the green tops of the celeriac plant would never grow up to be the celery stalks we are used to. I’m not sure why, but this underground cousin of the traditional “American” celery has never caught on here. Once you trim off the tops and cut away its thick skin, the flesh is creamy white. Its flavor is less assertive than green celery stalks, with just a slight celery-parsley flavor.

Celeriac can be eaten raw or cooked. To eat it raw, the trimmed root should be grated or sliced thinly before being tossed in a salad, for example. Cooked, celeriac can be boiled, roasted, braised, sautéed, or puréed. I found a great recipe idea for roasting celeriac with apples to go alongside a roasted chicken in Aliza Green’s book Starting with Ingredients. The combination of the sweet apples and spicy celeriac, complimented by the delicious apple-cider reduction sauce, was fantastic. The following is an adaptation of her recipe.

Roasted Chicken, Celeriac and Apples with Apple Cider Glaze
Serves 6

2 cups apple cider
2 cups chicken stock
2 sprigs thyme
½ cup chopped onion
2 bay leaves
1 tsp. peppercorns
1 tsp. coriander seeds
1 tsp. fennel seeds

Combine all ingredients in a small sauce-pan and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to medium low and simmer gently for about 15 minutes, or until the liquid is slightly syrupy and reduced to about 2 cups. Strain and reserve.

1 large celeriac, trimmed, peeled and cut into wedges
2 large Fuji apples, peeled, cored and cut into wedges
juice of 1 lemon
2 small shallots, thinly sliced

Cook celery root for 2 minutes in boiling, salted water. Drain and reserve. Toss apple wedges with lemon juice then add the blanched celeriac and shallots.

Preheat oven to 425°. Rinse and pat dry a whole chicken. Cut in half and place in a large roasting dish. Season to taste with salt, pepper, and fresh, chopped rosemary. Top with about 2 tablespoons of olive oil then rub it into the chicken. Scatter the apple-celeriac mixture on top of the chicken and roast for about 45-60 minutes, turning once. Served on top of polenta/ potatoes/rice with the warmed sauce drizzled on top.

Goat Sausage

I've heard of sausage made from pork, beef, or chicken, but goat? What an ingenious idea! The creative folks at Toboton Creek Ranch have done just that, turned their healthy goat meat into a most delicious sausage. Since grilling the sausages wan't an option, I instead browned them on the stove top, then finished the cooking in the oven. We were very impressed with the flavor of the sausage. Definitely distinct and unlike any other meat in flavor. The sausages were also juicy, tender and redolent with spice.

It was a full-on farmer's market meal. To go along with the sausage, we had roasted spud nuts from Olsen Farms and sauteed red kale from Nash's Organic Produce. The final result wasn't very photogenic, but it sure was delicious!

One Great Meal and One I'd Like to Forget

While we've certainly had more than one great meal since I last wrote (which I do apologize for not keeping up to date lately!) one market-inspired dinner in particular stands out. It featured almost exclusively products from Olsen Farms (save for the lovely bunch of kale from my new favorite $1 kale lady)–one giant bone-in leg of lamb and some beautiful "red fingerling" potatoes. I seared the lamb, carmelized a bunch of onions and garlic, then covered it all with some wine and stock and left it to braise in a low (300°) oven for several hours. The fingerlings were sliced horizontally in half (they had a gorgeous pinkish flesh) then tossed with some garlic, rosemary, salt, pepper, and olive oil. I roasted them at 400° for about 30 minutes, then added the kale which had been blanched and sliced. The lamb cooking liquid was cooked down to create a succulent sauce for both the potatoes and the meat. Talk about a hearty and satisfying meal! The lamb was tender and packed with flavor, while the texture of the fingerlings was unlike any potato I'd ever had; firm yet tender, neither waxy nor mushy. Truly a memorable meal, thanks to such quality ingredients.

Now for the awful experience. Despite being previously unimpressed with Washington Black Truffles, I was nonetheless lured into buying some recently from Foraged and Found Edibles. I bought two of the little black nuggets, one of which I shaved over some fresh pasta for dinner one night. It was fine, but nothing stellar. Mostly, it just tasted like dirt without any of the truffle flavor that I love about the European ones. The second truffle I shaved over the leftover pasta to have for lunch later in the week.

So it was a day or two later when my husband and I both heated up our respective pastas while at work. When I pulled mine out of the microwave, I immediately noticed that something didn't smell right. Not only that, but the pasta had turned nearly black in color. Thinking that was quite odd, I took a bite, albeit with some trepidation. The taste was way off, more like something from the sewer than the yummy pasta I was looking forward to. But it was all I had to eat, it'll be fine, right? So I took another bite. This time my mouth started to feel a bit tingly, so I wisely put down my fork after about the third bite and just threw the rest of it away. Within five minutes I knew I was going to be sick. It was that fast. I felt awful, and the worst thing was that the nasty smell of my nasty lunch kept lingering, making me feel even worse. I made it home before becoming horribly sick for the rest of the evening. My husband had nearly the exact same experience, except for the fact that he had to leave work early because he was so sick. Unfortunately, we both ate lunch around the same time, so neither one of us could have warned the other.

I love Foraged and Found Edibles, and I so appreciate that I can buy wild things that most people may never even try. Growing up with a father who foragered mushrooms, I also understand the risks involved in eating wild things. After doing tons of online research and trying to talk to the owner of Foraged and Found Edibles (who was predictably quite defensive), I have come up with a possible theory on what made us so sick. I don't think it was the mushroom itself that was "bad" or poisonous, but perhaps there was some bacteria on the outside that remained after I brushed it off. Maybe it was growing in some dirt that was harboring bacteria? Who knows. What I do know is that while I will continue to buy wild and foraged things, I am done with Washington Black Truffles.

Sea Breeze Farm Chicken

What a rough week. Not only was I sick with no time to be sick, but even worse, we had bad chicken. I had picked up the bird from the lovely folks at Sea Breeze Farms (whose raw milk I have really enjoyed in the past). Since I last wrote about them, they have upgraded to an enormous refrigerator case with a glass front at their stand. It is brimming with all sorts of meats, milks, and eggs. Having never tried any of their poultry, I wasn't sure what to expect in terms of price. I anticipated it would be more than a grocery store chicken, but not that much more! My scrawny little bird, which couldn't have weighed more than a few pounds, came to $23! Okay, I was thinking, you've got to try everything once, right? And, I was convinced that I was taking home a truly special bird. Sure it may be small, but a chicken raised in a completely organic, free-range, old-fashioned sort of way must taste phenomenal, like the "truly chickeny" chicken that Julia Child always raved about, right?

My mistake I guess. I chose a very French style treatment for my bird, with lots of herbs, butter, and lemon. I roasted it until it was just barely pink next to the bone, then let it sit under some foil to allow the juices to set. It smelled delicious, but on first bite I could tell it wasn't what I was hoping for. The flavor was just like your average chicken. The meat itself was a far cry from the tender and juicy bird I had been anticipating; it was tough and chewy, with some pieces being downright inedible. What went wrong? Did I just get a particularly ornery, hardy bird? Was it too old (although the farmer did tell me that it was only eight weeks old)? Is it that free-range style chickens are too lean? I don't have the answer, but at the same time I certainly don't want to discourage anyone from supporting our local farmers. I guess every now and then, you're bound to get burned. Too bad this experiment left us with so many dirty dishes.

Bluebird Grain Farms

There are many reasons to go to the farmer's market, chief among them the beautiful produce you find there grown by local farmers. Add to that the products that you can't normally buy at most stores, and I'm there. Bluebird Grain Farms falls into this latter category; while you can find their flour and grain products at local PCC stores, they are not readily available elsewhere. Apparently the rest of the world has yet to catch onto the incredible versatility, flavor, and nutrition benefits of these wheat alternatives. Although Bluebird Grain Farms does sell some common grain products such as wheat and rye, I know them more for their Emmer flour.

I used to refer to this grain as farro, but I learned recently from the helpful staff at the Bluebird Grain Farms stand that the word farro actually means "grain". Emmer is a type of grain or farro. That being said, many places use the terms Emmer and farro interchangeably, most notably in Italy where it is quite common, and with good reason. It is really good — more substantial than your standard white flour (and undoubtedly significantly better for you) without any of that dry or "healthy" taste sometimes associated with whole wheat baked goods. I have used it in cookies, quick breads, and this time, crepes.

I would highly recommend making these crepes. They are super simple and fast, and can be filled with anything you want, savory or sweet. Our apple-leek filling worked perfectly with the slight nuttiness of the Emmer in the crepes (and it paired extraordinarily well with a chilled Prosecco!). So find yourself some grains and get cooking!

Emmer Crepes — Combine 3 eggs, 2/3 cup Emmer flour, 1 cup whole milk, and 1/4 tsp. salt in a blender. Whirl until all ingredients are combined. If time allows, let sit for 30 minutes or an hour at room temperature, then whirl again in the blender before using.

To make crepes, heat an 8-inch skillet over medium high heat. Add about 1/2 Tablespoon of butter and swirl until melted. Use one hand to tip the pan while pouring about 1/4 cup of batter into the pan with the other hand, swirling constantly until the batter is evenly distributed. Cook for about 1-2 minutes, flip with a spatula, then put your choice of filling along the center of the crepe while it is still in the pan. Fold the sides in onto the middle, then slide the ready crepe out of the pan and onto a plate.