Baked Chioggia Beet Chips

I've been spending a lot of time in the kitchen this week. It's my Spring Break, and instead of gallivanting off to some exotic locale, I figured I'd be happiest if I spent the week at home, catching up with some books, recipes, and movies with my housemates. Of course, that means more time for the blog, which has made me very happy, indeed. And with all of this produce from the first farmers' market of the year, this break couldn't have come at a better time.

I had grabbed three big Chioggia Beets, an Italian heirloom variety with gorgeous stripes of pink and white. Also known as candy-stripe or bulls-eye beets, these little guys are one of my favorite farmers' market finds. Oh, and I asked the farmer, and now can proudly pronounce their name correctly - it's kee-oh-gee-ya!



I've had a beet chip recipe tucked away from an old issue of Gourmet. The original recipe blanches the beets in a simple syrup before baking, but I think I prefer blanching in plain water and tossing with a bit of canola oil and sea salt. Chioggia beets can be sweeter than standard beets, so I didn't feel the need to add more sugar.



I sliced the beets paper-thin with my mandolin, though next time I'll slice them thicker, as they crumbled quite a bit when they cooled. Plus, a thicker chip will hold up to a dip, which is always a good thing. The trick with these chips is to take them out of the oven earlier than you think. They won't get crispy in the oven, they need to crisp as they cool, so start checking by taking a few out of the oven instead of peaking at them while they are still inside.



The result is a sweet little chip - they shrink a lot, because the water in them is not replaced by the usual oil of frying - and they would be a good way to get some extra fiber and plenty of other nutritional boosts: they are high in folic acid (great for pregnant women), potassium, calcium and antioxidants (betacyanin, which is what gives beets their rich red color). A perfect snack from a superfood with style.

Tomorrow it's back to school, but I only have a few weeks left. This last lap will be a killer, but I'll make it through to find summer waiting at the finish line. Until then, I'll be sneaking into the kitchen every chance I get, and can't wait to share those adventures with you.

Eat well!

Baked Chioggia Beet Chips

For chips

* 2 medium beets with stems trimmed to 1 inch
* 1 cup water
* 1 Tablespoon canola oil
* Sea salt

Peel beets with a vegetable peeler, then slice thinly (but not too thinly) with mandolin or sharp knife, using stems as handles.

Bring water to a boil in a saucepan. Add beets, then remove pan from heat and let stand 15 minutes. Drain beets in a colander, discarding liquid, then let stand in colander 15 minutes more. Toss beets with oil and salt.

Put oven rack in middle position and preheat oven to 225°F.

Line a shallow baking pan with nonstick liner, then arrange beet slices snugly in 1 layer. Bake beets until dry, about 45 minutes to 1 hour. Immediately transfer chips to a rack to cool (chips will crisp as they cool).

Creamy Stinging Nettle Soup with Baby Garlic Greens

With regards to many seasonal fruits and vegetables, my job is fairly easy - It doesn't take much to get someone to switch to locally-grown strawberries and peaches - the intoxicating smells and incomparable flavor of farm-fresh fruit will convert anyone into a farmers market groupie. Even things that used to be considered out of the ordinary to the saaviest of shoppers - giant king oyster mushrooms, garlic scapes, and ramps - are now standard fare that most people know how to tackle.

Stinging nettles, on the other hand, are another story.



I woke up early to arrive before the first opening bell of the farmers market season - so many familiar faces, smiling kids with pastries bigger than their heads, hugs from market friends who seemed to be asking one all-encompassing question - "How was your winter?" We've all (barely) made it through the months without our weekly market bags filled with the harvest and our mouths filled with breakfast burrito, but the underlying celebration was evident everywhere - spring is here, and we're back in business!



I made my usual rounds, snapping shots of cute kids and all the photogenic produce you could ask for this early in the season. It was quite a turnout - plenty of greens and garden starts, gorgeous bouquets, and some new stars - including the nefarious nettle.

The small bags of nettles offered at a few stands seemed like perfect little gifts, each wrapped in an opaque bag, and at $2-3 bucks a bag, a seeming steal. Until you pick one up and the farmers cast knowing smirks as they ring you up and hand you a piece of paper with cautionary instructions. Yep, these babies come with warning labels.

I also scored some beautiful baby garlic greens that look and smell a bit like scallions with a purple cast. I picked out some beets, sunchokes, a peppermint start, and a big bag of pears to last me through the week. My score of the week was a salad bowl - a big round pot filled with tons of baby lettuces, bok choy, and spinach, a perfect mini-garden that cost less than a bag of gourmet greens - and it'll pay for itself over and over, I'm sure. It's such a good idea, I'm going to have to create a few more myself.

Here's the lovely Joan from Rainyway Farm with my Salad Bowl!


It was a beautiful morning, the sun poked out a couple times, and bluegrass music floated through the air, punctuated by sizzling sausage and bursts of laughter.

I came home with my bounty and got to work prepping the nettles, as I didn't want to leave them in the fridge where someone might get an unpleasant surprise. When handling nettles, you want to wear gloves - I used the thick kind we have on hand for dishes - and rinse well as you separate the tender leaves from the thick stems. I was probably a bit more paranoid than I needed to be, but these guys looked frightening, and I still felt a few stings through the gloves. After they are rinsed, you'll want to handle the nettles with tongs - trust me, you don't want to touch them.



I can remember being a kid in Oregon campgrounds in the summer, playing barefoot in the playgrounds and walking back to the tent with my older sister, and then - ouch - my foot landed in the middle of a nettle patch. I had a habit of stepping on things I shouldn't have - nests of red ants included - but this was a killer. It's funny to think the nettled I bought at the market today were probably harvested not too far from those campgrounds. So it was time for revenge.



While the nettles waited in a bowl by the window, looking mighty threatening, I chopped up some shallots, garlic, and the baby garlic greens, and sauteed them in butter and olive oil - never a bad start. After letting this smell fantastic for a while, I added a bit of dry sherry and the nettle tops and leaves. A quart of water, some salt and pepper, and a sprinkling of parsley, and I left it to boil off the danger for about ten minutes. Most recipes call for five minutes of boiling, but again, I was paranoid.

After the nettles seemed safe, I added a handful of baby spinach from my mini salad garden and a cup of good greek yogurt. A bit of a whir with the immersion blender, and... it smelled FANTASTIC, but looked not unlike swamp sludge. I know. I shouldn't say swamp sludge in a food blog. But it's true. As I was stirring, and tasting, and mmmmming, I couldn't help but laugh. My roommates wont touch it, partly because I scared them with warnings of imminent kitchen danger and partly because the immersion blender caused the soup to foam a bit, which did not help the situation aesthetically. In further appraisal, however, I'm really glad they won't be fighting over mugs of this stuff. I'll just let them think it's dangerous, because it's so good, I don't want to share.



Look out for more local finds from today's market this week, stay safe in the kitchen, and eat well!

Oakley's Creamy Stinging Nettle Soup with Baby Garlic Greens

Ingredients:

* 3 Tablespoons butter or olive oil, I use a mix
* 2 shallots, minced
* 2 garlic cloves, minced
* 1 cup chopped baby garlic greens or scallions
* 1/4 cup dry sherry
* 1/2 pound wild nettle tops
* 1 quart water or broth
* Salt and Pepper
* 1 cup greek yogurt, crème fraiche, sweet cream, or half and half
* 2 Tablesoons fresh parsley
* 1 handful fresh baby spinach

Procedure:

1. Sauté shallots, garlic, and garlic greens in butter or olive oil. Add sherry and nettles.
2. Add water and bring to a boil.
3. Cover and simmer until the nettles are very soft, about 8-10 minutes. Add spinach.
4. Add salt and pepper to taste, add yogurt or cream, and puree using an immersion blender.
5. Add fresh parsley and serve with more yogurt and chopped garlic greens.

Cinnamon Apple-Raisin Oat Bread

According to my National Parks Calendar and the definitive Google homepage, today is the first day of Spring!

Here in Portland, the sun has been taking turns with the rain, and there is a distinctive honesty to the air that tempts your nose with traces of winter daphne and fireplace smoke. The daffodils are out if full force, standing guard in small battalions around the city and along my walk to the store. I bought a dollar bag of organic Columbia Gorge Fujis at Limbo this week, thinking they would tide me over until the inevitable produce splurge that will be tomorrow's farmers' market. Unfortunately, the apples were a bit past their prime, which explains how I got 10 for a buck. As I'm sure many of you know, an ugly fruit has never stopped me, so I made a HUGE batch of Cinnamon Raisin bread (three big loaves) and added a few cups of diced apples for extra sweetness and texture. It's hard to go wrong with a good cinnamon bread, and the house smells almost as good as the air outside.

For some reason this dough did not want to rise, but the resulting bread was pleasantly hearty without being too dense. I used all-purpose flour instead of bread flour, but It's probably for the best, because a lighter crumb would have fallen apart in the toaster, and this bread begs to be toasted. Also, the recipe measurements are a bit wonky, as I had to convert them from metric quantities. Someday I'll get a kitchen scale, but for now, my haphazard measuring-cup methods aren't causing too many disasters.

I've got two loaves saved for a breakfast-for-dinner part tonight, complete with some honey-cinnamon butter I made by setting a stick of butter near the kitchen window, adding a few tablespoons of honey, two teaspoons of cinnamon, and mixing. Simple, yes, but this tastes SO good on the toasted bread, with the sweet bits of raisin and apple scattered through the slice.

The rest of the apples will be used to make a caramel apple pancake topping, which will be a sort of farewell to the winter flavors I've loved for the past few months before I set of for a greener palate.

Hope to see you at the market tomorrow, and I would love to hear about the signs of spring where you live, culinary or otherwise. Eat Well!

Cinnamon Apple-Raisin Oat Bread
Adapted from Jeffrey Hamelman's Bread
Makes 3 loaves
5 1/2 cups bread or all-purpose unbleached flour
1 7/8 cups whole wheat flour
1 5/8 cups rolled oats
2 1/2 cups water, divided into 2 cups and 1/2 cup
3/8 cups half-and-half or milk
3 tablespoons honey
5 1/2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 tablespoons plus 1/2 teaspoon salt
1 1/4 tablespoon dry active yeast
2 tablespoons ground cinnamon
1 cups soaked and drained raisins
1 1/2 cups diced apples

While you measure and mix the other ingredients, soak the raisins in warm water. Next, soak the oats in a large bowl in the 2 cups water for 20 to 30 minutes. Proof the yeast in the remaining 1/2 cup warm water for about 7 minutes. Mix the flours, yeast, milk, honey, oil, salt, and cinnamon into the oats. Mix well, until all of the flour is hydrated. Knead by hand for 5 minutes or in a standmixer for 3, then mix in the drained raisins. Knead or mix until the raisins are distributed throughout the dough.

Cover the bowl of dough and allow it to rise for 1 hour. Then remove the dough from the bowl and fold it, deflating it gently as you do. Place the dough on a floured work surface, top side down. Fold the dough in thirds, like a letter. Fold in thirds again the other way. Flip the dough over, dust off as much of the raw flour as you can, and place it back into the bowl. Cover the bowl and allow the dough to rise in bulk again for another hour. Then divide the dough in thirds and shape the loaves. Place each shaped loaf into a greased bread pan. Spray or gently brush each loaf with water and sprinkle with some more oats. Cover the pans and set aside to rise until the loaves crest above the edge of the pans, roughly 90 minutes. Preheat the oven to 450. Place the loaves in the center rack of the oven. After 5 minutes, reduce the oven temperature to 375. Rotate the loaves 180 degrees after 20 minutes, and bake for another 15 to 25 minutes, until the tops of the loaves are nicely browned, the bottoms of the loaves make a hollow sound when tapped. Cool before slicing.

Portland Farmer's Market Update!

Hello friends, I have exciting news!
The Saturday Portland Farmer's Market at PSU is scheduled to open TWO WEEKS earlier than usual. Yes, that means THIS Saturday, March 21, as in three days from today, the market is back! That means more green in the fridge and more chances for me to explore the offerings of the Northwest with you and yours.



We'll be able to see our heroic farmers who have been braving this crazy weather through the winter, and fill up our bags with those precious spring finds (nettles, anyone?). I'm scheduled to photograph the opening, so if you see me walking around with a camera and a goofy grin, say hi!



I thought I'd fill this post with photos of our fantastic vendors to get you pumped, so get out your coats (it'll probably be raining, but who knows? I'm writing this in a patch of deliciously warm sunshine) and your walking shoes, and I'll see you this weekend!!!

Signs of Spring

We have a newspaper clipping on our fridge. It is an black and white photo, fourteen years old. It's laminated, with three creases from being folded in an envelope, and from it shine the faces of three midwestern children, perched in a tree. Their eyes lift up towards the right of the photograph, past the edges of the frame towards some unseen specter. Dressed in grubby knees and too-big sweatshirts, they wrap their thin arms around the branches of a bare tree, holding, waiting. A few small leaves can be seen, starting their life, but we can tell it is cold, that the grass would be just as grey if the picture was in color.

The caption reads: "Looking for Spring."

The tomboy in the center of the photo is my roommate, and she tells me it was mostly staged. Some Madison reporter from the Wisconsin State Journal looking for a suitable image had stumbled upon three kids, mesmerized by a trapped pigeon in the attic of a neighbor's house. He stopped, called out to them, and asked to take their photo. The only problem was, their attention was focused on a spot just above the photographer, so he had them shift their gaze, had them look up to his right, up into an empty, cold sky. The skepticism in their faces reads clear - there are no signs of spring, no pigeons in this new vision - just empty sky. Nevertheless, the photo made the presses, and fourteen years later, it has made it to the door of our freezer.

My roommate's face has hardly changed since then. Neither has her skepticism. But now it is March, and we find ourselves searching the sky, cherishing the tiny green leaves on the all but bare trees, spotting an out-of-place seagull flying high above the railroad tracks that cross under Holgate Boulevard: Looking for signs of Spring.



I made it out to People's Farmers Market this week, a year-round venture. This time of year, it's the same handful of farmers with the same bounty - some cold weather greens, potatoes, some mushrooms, and the stalwart Daikon radish - a baker or two, and booth touting some perfect goat cheese. The difference this week was not on the tables, it was not for sale. It was the sun, crashing down through the bitterly cold air, casting a light on the sorrel and French red fingerlings, and the bee pollen, and the 100% rye, and the tiny kale starts in black soil - only 25 cents.



My eyes were fixed not in the sky, not on the lone cloud that held no trace of rain, but on the boxes of jewels from under the ground, the potatoes that had come out from the frost-battered soil to sit here, in the sun. Those potatoes have been around for a few months. But here, in the light of a wednesday evening after the time has shifted forward one hour, allowing me to pretend that I can go out of the house in less than two sweaters and a peacoat, they are new. New potatoes, signs of spring.

Mushroom Root Vegetable Pie with Cheddar Rosemary Biscuits

I'm not going to lie. Blogging about local, sustainable foods is not as easy in the winter. Everything seems to be the same color.

Don't get me wrong, I still love root vegetables, winter squash, hearty greens, and fresh baked goods as much as the next guy, but I've found myself glancing through old blog photos, dominated by bright shades of green, red, orange, purple... And to think the first farmers market is still a few months off, it's hard not to be a bit less than enchanted by the offerings of these darker, browner months.

I know eating like this through winter will make the spring harvest that much better, and there is something incredibly satisfying about casserole, soup, and roasted vegetables.

That being said, one of the best things about dishes like this root vegetable and mushroom casserole, adapted from this month's Bon Appetit magazine, is that they make life a little easier after I realized asparagus season is still months away.

Luckily, Portland has been getting good doses of winter sun, and I can still find local supplies, from cheese to apples to mushrooms, at a few local vendors. We'll make it, and maybe I'll be a bit more diligent about freezing and preserving the bumper crops this summer.

Eat well, stay warm, and keep your spirits up!

Root Vegetable and Mushroom Pie with Cheddar Rosemary Biscuit Topping
8 to 10 Servings
Adapted from Jeanne Thiel Kelley's recipe
Bon Appetit, March 2009

Ingredients
Filling
6 cups homemade vegetable or chicken broth
3 large carrots, cut crosswise into 1/2-inch pieces
3 large celery stalks, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
2 large parsnips, quartered lengthwise, cut crosswise into 1/2-inch pieces
1 large rutabaga, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
1 large sweet potato, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
3 yukon gold potatoes, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
1 oz shitake mushrooms, halved
2 portobello mushroom caps
3 tablespoons butter or olive oil
3 cups chopped onions
4 large garlic cloves, chopped
1 teaspoon minced fresh rosemary
1/2 cup all purpose flour
1/2 cup heavy whipping cream
2 tablespoons dry Sherry or red wine

BISCUITS
2 1/4 cups unbleached all purpose flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
2 teaspoons minced fresh rosemary
1 teaspoon salt
6 tablespoons (3/4 stick) chilled unsalted butter, diced
2 cups grated cheddar cheese
1 1/3 cups (or more) chilled buttermilk

PREPARATION
FILLING
Bring broth boil in large pot over medium-high heat. Add carrots and next 5 ingredients. Simmer until vegetables are tender, about 7 minutes. Drain; reserve vegetables and broth.
Melt butter in same pot over medium heat. Add onions; sauté until beginning to brown, about 10 minutes. Mix in garlic and rosemary; stir 2 minutes. Add flour; stir 1 minute. Gradually whisk in reserved broth, then cream and Sherry. Cook until sauce is thick and reduced to 4 cups, whisking often, about 8 minutes. Mix in mushrooms and reserved vegetables. Season with salt and pepper. Transfer filling to buttered 13x9x2-inch baking dish.
Preheat oven to 400°F. Bake filling, covered, until bubbling, about 50 minutes. Meanwhile, prepare biscuits.
BISCUITS
Stir first 4 ingredients in large bowl to blend. Add butter. Using fingertips, rub in butter until mixture resembles coarse meal. Mix in cheese. Gradually add 1 1/3 cups buttermilk, tossing with fork until dough is evenly moistened and adding more buttermilk by tablespoonfuls if dry.
Drop biscuit dough atop hot filling by heaping tablespoonfuls; sprinkle with pepper. Bake uncovered until tester inserted into center of biscuits comes out clean, about 45 minutes. Cool 15 minutes.