I just wanted to share this amazing time-lapse video of a full day of the Portland Farmers' Market from set-up to take-down, and all of the action in between. It's a truly stunning view of the energy and work it takes to make the market possible.
Wow! I'm really glad I don't have to get there when it's still dark. Farmers rock.
Great news! I've settled down (well, at least for a few weeks) into a gorgeous home with my wonderful friends, and can take a break from apartment hunting and everything else I should probably be doing, and cooking up a storm in our fantastic kitchen (gas stove! good lighting! great knives!). For starters, I made real risotto for the first time last night, and it was glorious. A lot of that had to do with the fact that risotto is unequivocally delicious, but it was mostly that cooking and drinking wine with one of my best friends was the perfect way to end a perfect day.
Started the day at the farmers' market, gathering some beautiful squash, peppers, celeriac, the most perfect snow-white cauliflower I've ever seen, eggplant, carrots, raspberries. Who knew we still had raspberries available!? Thanks, greenhouses!
I then drove out to my favorite apple farm in North Plains, Mason Hill Orchard, only to find that they were sold out. Sad, but worth the trip, which turned into an hour-long drive through Oregon farmland in a constant downpour, which was a lot more enjoyable than it sounds. Quick stop at Ikea for some new pillows and $1 meatball plate (!), then back home to a waiting fireplace, coffee, and biscuits and gravy made from scratch by my roommate. Perfect rainy Portland Saturday, topped off with creamy, cheesy, savory risotto and a glass of wine and good conversation. Seriously, how does it get better than that?
Lesson learned: Risotto is worth the work! We traded off stirring at the stove and the result was insanely delicious. I used some saffron that my mama had given me for a birthday a few years ago, which I'd been a bit intimidated by until I saw that it had an expiration date on it. Long story short, I've got a month to use up a lot of saffron, and this delicious vegetarian risotto was born. I adapted the recipe from an Ina Garten recipe which originally used pancetta and chicken stock. I replaced the stock with some mushroom-heavy homemade broth, and replaced the pancetta with mushrooms, for some savory (dare I say umami...) goodness. A quick tip, make sure to use unsalted butter and don't use too much salt before you add the cheese. Mine was perfectly seasoned until the end, but then I added the cheese and it was a bit salty. I added some red wine, because, you know, it was in my glass, and it worked beautifully. Improvisation, friends. It works when it works.
Here's to finding home. Eat well.
Mushroom and Butternut Squash Saffron Risotto
1 butternut squash (2 pounds) 2 Tbsp. olive oil ~ Kosher salt ~ Freshly ground black pepper 6 cups vegetable stock, preferably homemade 6 Tbsp. (¾ stick) unsalted butter 1 cup diced crimini or chanterelle mushrooms ½ cup minced shallots
1½ cups (10 ounces) Arborio rice ½ cup dry white wine 1 tsp. saffron threads 1 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese Steps
- Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.
- Peel the butternut squash, remove the seeds, and cut it into ¾-inch cubes. You should have about 6 cups. Place the squash on a sheet pan and toss it with the olive oil, 1 tsp. salt, and ½ tsp. pepper. Roast for 25 to 30 minutes, tossing once, until very tender. Set aside.
- Meanwhile, heat the veggie stock in a small covered saucepan. Leave it on low heat to simmer.
- In a heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven, melt the butter and sauté the mushrooms and shallots on medium-low heat for 10 minutes, until the shallots are translucent but not browned. Add the rice and stir to coat the grains with butter. Add the wine and cook for 2 minutes. Add 2 full ladles of stock to the rice plus the saffron, 1 tsp. salt, and ½ tsp. pepper. Stir, and simmer until the stock is absorbed, 5 to 10 minutes.
- Continue to add the stock, 2 ladles at a time, stirring every few minutes. Each time, cook until the rice seems a little dry, then add more stock. Continue until the rice is cooked through, but still al dente, about 30 minutes total.
- Off the heat, add the roasted squash cubes and Parmesan cheese. Mix well and serve.
Every year around Halloween, the Portland Farmers' Market throws one hell of a party. Dozens of pumpkins for carving, vendor costume contests, kid's costume parade, really fun kid's music, and two, count them TWO chef demonstrations hosted by yours' truly. I had the pleasure of cooking a green tomato and celery root soup with Scott Dolich of Park Kitchen, and a great arugula and butternut squash panzanella salad with Jenn Louis of Lincoln and Culinary Artistry catering. They were both fantastic, and two more reminders of how much I love the Portland chef community.
When I was walking around with Scott shopping for our demo, he, like most chefs I've had the pleasure to meet at the market, seemed to know just about everyone. Every Portland-area farmer seems to know pretty much every Portland chef, and vice-versa, which makes sense because they have such a mutually beneficial relationship. Also, people who I would normally view as other shoppers like myself were suddenly revealed to be chefs of well-known restaurants, specialty shop owners, food writers, and other notable characters. It's such a treat to glimpse into that close-knit community, like a carrot dangling in front of me luring me into the Portland food scene. I suppose I already have a couple toes in that door, thanks to the market and blogging, but I've got a long way to go.
This year's bash was extra special because the event fell on Halloween proper, which I believe compelled a few more people to dress up and brave the rain for the festivities. Creative (and warm) costumes were everywhere, from an adorable stop light complete with light-up red, yellow, and green circles, to more princesses, butterflies, monkeys, monsters, and zombies than you could keep track of. No one cared too much that the rain speckled our costumes, but it's safe to say that when the sun peaked out around noon, smiles were considerably brighter.
Umm... Could this little thing be any cuter? I think not.
On the home front, I'm moving this week! Which means kitchen stuff might be living in boxes for a few days, and I'll be making a lot of salads. At least I like salads. I'm moving into a friend's house while he and his band go on tour, and then who knows... a world of domestic possibilities. As long as there is a kitchen, it's a home. Why I decided to move (a few times) in the middle of writing my thesis is quite complicated, but it's exciting. It also gives me something to think about other than writing and food. Hmmph. Like I need anything else.
Happy Halloween! Eat well!
During one of my occasional perusals of my blog statistics (which tells me, among other rather voyeuristic things, how many people visit the site, what web pages people are coming from, what countries, and what google hits are leading to Lemonbasil...) I came across a rather unexpected connection...
Apparently, if you search for "adopt buy squirrel portland" in Yahoo search from Taiwan, Lemonbasil is the first hit.
Dear Squirrel Lover,
Sorry if you were disappointed, my friend. I can't help you directly, but I hear Craigslist has occasional ads for chipmunks and ground squirrels. That being said, according the the Department of fish and wildlife it is against the law to trap any type of native squirrel and keep in captivity without specific permits through wildlife rehabilitation agencies. Read: let's keep our furry Portland friends out of cages and exercise wheels and in the wild, climbing Douglas Firs and, um, power lines.
They are pretty darn cute, though.
Your friend in Portland,
Allison
P.S. Did you know that there are more than 365 species of squirrels in the world? However, upon the occasion of a casual Google search, there is NO SQUIRREL OF THE DAY blog. Come now, people. That's simply an irresponsible use of the internet. Good readers, get on that. Stat.
So, here's a visual tour of food-related events of my past few days, because I have little to no time to verbalize blog-worthy musings this week. I'm writing my Senior thesis, painting murals, apartment hunting (and generally getting ready for a big move), and am finishing up work before leaving for my Fall Break. Next week on the East Coast, next year in Jerusalem. Or something.
Be back to words soon! Eat well!
Guess what I've been eating a lot of?
I'm a bit nervous that I'll eat way too much winter squash this month and be sick of it by the time the late summer vegetables are gone and I'm faced with the prospect of eating butternut squash and sweet potatoes for several long, cold months. But I also feel like I've been waiting for winter squash season all year, and I am willing to risk butternut overload for mornings like this.
I woke up this morning and immediately thought BREAD. I haven't made bread in many months of Sundays. What with the summer of living on the road, to starting school and moving into a new, unfamiliar house with an extremely temperamental oven, it's no surprise that bread hasn't been first on the to-do list. But I miss it, and Julia, my sexy stand mixer, keeps making me feel guilty for using her as squash storage. Hey, sorry love, but counter space is precious and you have a really large bowl. 6 quarts to be exact. So I thought I'd make it up to her AND make the squash storage problem a bit less insane in one fell swoop. Butternut squash bread! How cool is that?
INGREDIENTS
• 2 (.25 ounce) packages active dry yeast
• 1/2 cup warm water (110 degrees F to 115 degrees F)
• 1 1/4 cups mashed, cooked butternut squash
• 1 cup warm milk (110 to 115 degrees F)
• 2 eggs, beaten
• 1/2 cup olive oil, canola oil, or mixture of both
• 1/3 cup honey, maple syrup, or agave
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 7 cups all-purpose flour
DIRECTIONS
In a mixing bowl, dissolve yeast in water; let stand for 5 minutes. Add squash, milk, eggs, oils, syrup and salt; mix well. Gradually add 3-1/2 cups flour; beat until smooth. Add enough remaining flour to form a soft dough. Turn onto a floured surface; knead until smooth and elastic, about 6-8 minutes. Place in a greased bowl, turning once to grease top. Cover and let rise in a warm place until doubled, about 1 hour. Punch dough down. Shape into three loaves; place in greased 8-in. x 4-in. x 2-in. loaf pans. Cover and let rise until doubled, about 30 minutes. Bake at 375 degrees F for 25-30 minutes or until tops are golden. Remove from pans to cool on wire racks.
I know most of my readers in the food blogosphere will have already heard this sad news, but this year marks a monumental loss for the foodie world. After 70 years of publication, Gourmet magazine is closing its glossy covers for good.
For as long as I can remember, I've been a fan of Gourmet's specific brand of food porn. I've spent a good deal of time during my visits to my grandparents' looking through the giant basket where my grandmother keeps her magazines and setting aside Sunset and every Lands' End catalogue every printed, searching for that familiar scrolled title and the delectable solitary shot on the cover. This was my first exposure to food writing, to food photography, to the whole cult of culinary indulgence that has gained near-religious status in my life. Before I knew how to pronounce the title, I was enamored by shiny page after shiny page of colorful, drool-worthy shots of the kind of food I could only dream of. Now, to be fair, I come from food the way some people come from money. I had no shortage of gourmet (with a little g) delights on my very real dining room table. But the magazine (with a big G) took me past my mom's crispy chicken thighs and perfect baked potatoes and my dad's juicy steaks and... baked potatoes... to something wholly other. My parents showed me how to hold a knife, and the education was continued by the fine people on public television and the Food Network, not to mention the food blogosphere, but it was in the magazines that really took me places first. I learned about the restaurant world, the sustainable food movement, the revival of traditional regional flavors, and the influx of exotic tastes that have hit the American palate like a hurricane. My parents will always be the best cooks I've ever met, but because of Gourmet, I can proudly say that I can out-eggplant even them.
It would not be much of an exaggeration to say that it is due to the writers that populate the food journalism universe that I am a cook, that I am a writer, and that I am the kind of eater I am. They have informed my sustainable food ethics, my chopping style, the encyclopedia of food terms and methods in my head, and, surely, my career path. I know, because of the passion I found in their writing, the wonder I found in following a recipe (or, you know, not following it at all), and the immense delight in serving Gourmet-inspired food to my family and friends, that I want to cook, and write about it, for the rest of my life. My first-edition Gourmet Cookbooks hold the most privileged position in my cookbook collection, representing much more than a collection of recipes from mid-century. The Thanksgiving issues have informed the past few years of my November pursuits, and I had the amazing opportunity to meet Ruth Reichl through the Portland Farmers' Market (and, as many of us did, got to know her even more through her phenomenal memoirs). I'll miss her smiling face greeting me as I flip open the magazine each month, though the insane career envy I feel re: her time with the NYT and Gourmet will not fade in the least.
When asked to compile a series of recipes using winter veggies for the PFM, I immediately turned to the folks at Gourmet for inspiration. They have always represented a certain amount of class, at times bordering on the bourgeois, but always, somehow, accessible, even for a college student on a budget. I suppose what was most accessible were the dreams, the fantasy meals spelled out so beautifully in recipes and menus, in the shots so skillfully arranged by the art directors... I've built and rebuilt my imaginary kitchen countless times over the years in accordance to their appliance recommendations, filling the dream-drawers with the latest gadgets and loading the fantasy pantry with the most exotic spices and sauces. Some people have a "happy place" where they go to escape the pressures and mundane reality of real life. Mine has a Viking gas grill with an infrared rotisserie. And a Salamander.
In the hardest of times, when I find myself eating beans and rice for what seemed like weeks on end, I look forward to flipping the pages of the magazine, visually eating my way through the seasons, sampling the best of American and International restaurants, and conjuring up conversations with top chefs, sharing tips and favorite flavors. And in the best of times, when I find myself with hours to spend in the kitchen and a full fridge, Gourmet has taken me around the world, helping me conjure up flavors from Mexico to Thailand, from Italy to Philadelphia, and has opened my eyes to culinary gems here in Portland.
Today, three magazines were waiting for me in my mailbox. Bon Appétit, Cooks Illustrated, and Gourmet. My friends and family can attest to the fact that days like today, when the food mags show up, are like every gift giving holiday wrapped up in one, made even better because they come once a month. I opened this month's Gourmet with gratitude, sadness, and anticipation for the future. Though one great edifice of the food world has fallen, there remains the example of the food writers of the past, and, thanks to their clearing of the path, there is amazing potential for the food writers of the future. Thank you, Gourmet, from all of us, for your role in the culinary revolution, and from me, for your special place in my own humble education.
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