Waterfront Dining

Our lake--Wallowa Lake--is perfect right now. The water temperature is up to a not-quite-so-bracing 68 degrees, ideal for lounging on a float over the crystalline waters while gazing into the heart of the Eagle Cap Wilderness.

Look at that view! It looks too picture-postcard-perfect even for me, and I can attest to the photo's veracity.

Late on a summer afternoon, the breezes move the dry air around your skin, the low-angle sunlight is warm and golden, and the boaters stop their engines and go home for supper. This is the very best time to sit and linger until...of all the inconveniences...hunger happens.

I always wonder why humans need to eat so often. At an evolutionary level, wouldn't it have been much better if we only needed 3,000 calories a week?

Nonetheless, unless you've fished a kokanee out of the lake's great depths, things can get a little desperate in a place without readily available, high-quality take-out.

If I wasn't a mother, I'd have gone straight to the drive-in for a round of milkshakes.

If I was a better-prepared mother, I'd have actually used the white beans I'd cooked that morning for a beany salad of roasted chicken and mesclun with pesto vinaigrette. And I'd have brought it along with home-baked bread, good cheese and cherries.

As it was, I dashed to the grocery store in Joseph and returned asap with deli wrap sandwiches, Reser's potato and macaroni salad, a hunk of smoked tuna from Oregon City and chocolate chip cookies.

Our friend, Brian, who had just emerged from a long-distance swim, saw our spread and joked about how shocked he was that a locavore like me would stoop to such convenience foods. Then, I offered him some tuna.

The moral of the story: You can't eat the view, and it sure does make anything and everything taste better.

Liquid Diet

It's too hot to eat.

That, or I ate too many snacks at Molly's 4th birthday party this afternoon. I mean, I did consume Thai summer rolls with peanut sauce, crudites with green garlic dip, goat cheese smothered in cherry compote and more than one chocolate pastry cream-filled cupcake. But I know that actually it's the heat that's acting as appetite suppressant this dinner time. I do.

All I want is to drink and slake my thirst away. So, I started thinking about my favorite thirst-slaking liquids. Do you know the ones I mean?

Not Coke, which tricks you while still icy cold in your throat making you believe it's got what it takes, but then leaves you even more parched than before. Not fruit juice, either on its own or in a cocktail, which leaves a sticky film on your palate. Not even water, which is earnest and pure, but doesn't quite have the je ne sais quoi to sate a serious middle-of-the-desert need.

Here's my list of top 10 best thirst-quenching libations (in no particular order, because it's a mood thing):

1. aqua de jamaica (Mexican hibiscus tea cooler; see recipe below)
2. Arnold Palmer (50/50 blend of iced tea & lemonade; is it called this everywhere? why?)
3. well-chilled rose wine (why do the French know everything?)
4. ginger ale (it's the one thing I look forward to on airplanes)
5. bad iced coffee (proof that flavors fade when cold)
6. ice cold cheap lager (ditto)
7. room temperature sparkling water with a lime twist (handy when you don't have access to ice or reliable drinking water)
8. kir (or kir royale, if you insist)
9. Bloody Mary (surprising but true)
10. gin & tonic (good gin only, if you please)

So, what do you drink when it's too hot to even think about eating?

Agua de Jamaica (Hibiscus Cooler)
Sold all over Mexico or available at authentic Mexican restaurants, this beverage is the best (even better than beer) for satisfying your thirst. I brought back bags of the flower petals, but you can now find them here, too. This drink is also great with food.

1/2 cup hibiscus flowers (3/4 ounce) or 6 bags hibiscus tea
2 cups boiling water
1/2 cup sugar, or to taste
ice and cold water as needed

Place the hibiscus flowers or tea bags into a heatproof bowl. Pour the boiling water over and set aside to steep for 30 minutes. Strain the crimson-colored teas into a 2-quart pitcher, discarding the spent flowers or tea bags.

Add the sugar; stir until dissolved. Fill the pitcher two-thirds full with ice and top it off with cold water. Taste and, if desired, add more sugar. Refrigerate until chilled through, at least 2 hours.

The Fruits (and Labors) of Summer

8 p.m. 80 degrees:
I've got the first load of cherry jam in jars and ready for the canner. Serendipity to find them today at a roadside stand. Lamberts--a burgundy, glossy and candy sweet variety. After pounds and pounds purchased, these are the first sweet cherries to survive our munching. And the first non-imported eastern Oregon cherries we'll be so happy to spread on next December's toast.

9:10 p.m. 77 degrees:
The apricot jam is nearly gelled and ready to jar up. This free fruit comes from the Imnaha canyon, over 3,000 feet below where I am now and where it's probably still in the 80s.

The unblemished, perfectly sun-ripened apricots are little miracles because they grow on trees, perhaps planted 100 years ago or more by homesteaders, that no one tends now. No irrigation, no pesticides, no fertilizer, they just grew exquisite on their own getting everything they needed this past spring and early summer.

They came into my hands thanks to Sara who was so generous with her bounty and so moved by their perfection and abundance that she wrote this blog entry.

10:35 p.m. 74 degrees:
All is done. The jar lids are clicking to announce they're sealed. The last to come out is the plum jam, a little tart, but treasured because I picked those fruits myself. More found fruits, these in another canyon in more abandoned fruit trees.

It was sunset last Saturday and I parked by the stand of gnarly old trees trailing up the craggy hillside--each one filled with plums, some red, some gold, some purple and all no bigger than a cherry.

Alone, I heard only the sounds of the river rushing below the banks where I picked and sampled, sampled and picked. I stepped gingerly around the rocks where I hoped no rattlesnakes were dozing.

Yes, there was an element of danger. Shall I tell you how my sandaled feet began to slip down the steep, gravelled bank reaching for the biggest sweetest plums on a particular tree? My heart fluttered as I clawed my way back up to the roadside. Then, I settled for the ones well within my reach.

As I picked those tiny, tart plums I thought about nothing and everything. And perhaps that is why--along with the delicious warmth of the sun, the river's breeze and the solitude--that I felt as happy and connected and as alive as I ever have.

I wonder if any of that's preserved in the jar, too.

Call the Lettuce Police

I just threw away some homegrown romaine lettuce I'd stored in the fridge too long. It wasn't all that wilted really.

In the wintertime, I would have considered those precious leaves perfectly fresh. But I have so much to use in the garden, I'm feeling a bit wanton about it these days. The resident deer helped a little bit by breaking through was is called deer fencing but is hardly impenetrable and eating a head of red leaf and one of green leaf. I almost called them up to thank them.

The other night Molly (nearly 4) ran up to the table for dinner, looked at the salad on her plate and demanded (in that petulant voice particular to this age), "Is this from our garden?"

What?! Isn't it good enough that they were grown just on the other side of town? Is this the first signs of extreme locavorism?

The beauty of being awash in lettuce is that I can serve my favorite meal--the Big Salad--for supper when it gets really hot. It takes some skill and foresight to make a salad hearty enough that the menfolk aren't hunting around the kitchen well before bedtime for a little something extra.

So meat is a must, and I favor something grilled, like steak, lamb or salmon. Duck would be lovely. Last week I used cold smoked pork because I had a lot from a party to use up. Unusual, yes, and it was excellent with tangy mizuna, scallions, sliced carrots and sweet salad turnips.

I love cold (leftover) roasted potatoes, hard-boiled eggs or fresh-made garlic croutons for substance. Usually, it's not a preplanned affair, something I shop specifically to make, but an opportunity to use bits of this and that from other nights' cooking.

Naturally, these hearty ingredients are accompanied by a bounty of fresh lettuce--one variety or a blend, throwing in some mustards for spark--and chopped fresh veggies.

To top it all off, a creamy dressing of some sort, such as blue cheese, poppy seed or ginger-miso --makes the whole bowl more rich and filling. I just make sure to use a light hand while pouring and tossing.

And if all that isn't enough, I serve a big dessert.

Garlic Croutons
This is the best method I've found for making great, garlicky croutons without the risk of any bitter burnt bits.

1 cup extra virgin olive oil
6 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
1 teaspoon salt
8 cups day-old bread torn into rough 1 or 2-inch pieces

Heat the oil in a saucepan over medium heat and add the garlic. When the garlic simmers, turn the heat to low and cook until the garlic turns pale gold. Turn off the heat and let the oil steep for 20 minutes. Fish out the garlic and add the salt.

Peheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Toss the bread pieces in a large bowl with enough of the oil to moisten them. Toast, stirring 2-3 times, until nicely browned, about 15minutes.

The Dirty Truth

On the last night of my fabulous friend Char's visit from St. Louis we ate grilled salmon with roasted jalapeno chow chow, Walla Walla Sweet Onion galette and strawberry-raspberry sorbet--following another of her awesome Cointreau martinis.

Then, we retired to the parlor for a feature film presentation of Rachel Getting Married, leaving behind all the dishes. [Gasp!]

I don't usually do that. In fact, I'm so pestered by dirty dishes that I designed our kitchen to have a separate dish area entirely. It's called the scullery, and it allows me to stash dishes out of sight and out of mind while cooking.

Perhaps you've only heard the term scullery in episodes of Upstairs, Downstairs, but I have one here in the U.S. of A. You can read all about it and see photos of its more pristine state in this article at Fine Homebuilding.

The real point is how often we talk and think and write about cooking, but dwell not at all on its underbelly--the cleaning up. I suppose it's that way with so many things in our lives, like child birth, illness, and what's under the seats in our car. We tend to dismiss the messy bits.

The exception, of course, is toilet humor. If we can make jokes ad infinitum about farts, why don't we laugh about the time the wine glass broke right in our hands while trying to rub off the lipstick imprint, or how the Bolognese sauce permanently stained red our handmade American Chesnut spoon?

The funny thing is that there is a long scene in Rachel Getting Married where the future father-in-law and son-in-law face off in a dishwasher loading showdown. With the whole wedding party looking on, each takes a turn loading the dishwasher to the max. Director Jonathan Demme sure took a long real-time look at kitchen clean up. Maybe he gets it.

Are you at all like me in the following regards?

• Do you avoid unloading the dishwasher; then, once you tackle the job wonder what the big deal was?


• When you prepare dinner, do you try to avoid using a cuttingboard just so you won't have to wash it?


• Do you use cast-iron pans not only because they're great cooking vessels, but also because you are never supposed to wash them?


• When baking, do you ignore the instructions to mix together the dry ingredients so that you won't dirty an extra bowl?


• When it's time to do the hand dishwashing, do you have to pretend that you're a Buddhist Zen monk in order to be in the moment?


• Do you regret choosing that beautiful granite countertop, tile backsplash, and stainless steel appliances because they're so darn hard to keep looking good as new?

Okay, that last one is not me, because I'm too much of a neat nick (that's code for OCD, I'm afraid), and I knew the dirty truth about kitchens before remaking my own. Despite my foresight (maple countertops and white appliances), constant attention, and Benjamin's diligent dish washing, it's still the dirtiest, most high-maintainance room in the house.

Cointreau Martini
Serves 1

The farthest I venture from a straight up gin martini--not too dry--is to go a little bit dirty. But the tart orange of the Cointreau blends wonderfully with those pungent juniper berries, and now I'm hooked. One of these will certainly aid you in working through your own pile of dirty dishes. Cheers!

1 jigger top-shelf gin
1 teaspoon Cointreau--or more to taste if you lean that way
1 lemon twist

Half fill a martini shaker with ice cubes. Pour in the gin and Cointreau and shake until the shaker nearly causes frostbite on your hands. Pour into a chilled glass and garnish with the lemon twist.

Chow Chow for Salmon

I've noticed that a lot of people like to fancy up salmon with things like huckleberry sauce, mango chutney and peach salsa.

I am not one of them. For me the sweet fruit flavors clash with the briny taste of fresh salmon. Even rosemary cream sauces and lemon-pepper spice rubs just drown out the flavors of my favorite fish.

Call me boring, but typically I cook salmon (only when I can get a thick fillet of wild Sockeye or King) on the grill with nothing more than coarse sea salt and pepper. Okay, in the winter, I might broil it and offer a lemon butter.

I found my exception last night when, on the fly, I made a green garlic and roasted jalapeno chow chow for my hot foods-loving friend Charlotte--herself a spicy sister--who was visiting from St. Louis. The chunky relish had a vibrancy that matched the fish instead of overpowering it. It was a little bit sweet, a touch salty and very piquante.

So, while the younguns nibbled standard grilled salmon, we adults self-served a dose of chow chow to suit our needs. Char put it on everything, while Benjamin and I swabbed it into bites of fish--with breaks to allow time for our lips to stop tingling.

In hindsight, I think it's my way of letting everyone have it their own way--my way.

Green Garlic & Roasted Jalapeno Chow Chow
Makes about 2 cups

Not your traditional green tomato chow chow, this relish was inspired by a gardener's bounty of green garlic (also known as garlic scapes), jalapenos and Italian flat-leaf parsley. If truth be told, I was riffing on gremolata, the Italian garnish consisting of garlic, parsley and lemon zest. But along the way it became more like a sweet and spicy relish. It would also be great with grilled chicken or a quesadilla.

8 garlic scapes, minced or 3 garlic cloves, minced
1 bunch fresh flatleaf parsley, minced
12 roasted jalapenos*, stems trimmed and minced
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon seasoned rice wine vinegar
1/2 teaspoon sea salt

Stir together all the ingredients in a small bowl and let sit at room temperature for 30 minutes to allow the flavors to mingle. It can also be made several hours in advance and stored in the refrigerator. Bring to room temperature before serving.

*To roast jalapenos, broil them whole on a baking sheet until blistered and charred all over.

A Broccoli Celebration

I realized that I've been slipping up lately here, and for that I do apologize. The parenting thing has been quite all consuming of late, and cooking and baking just aren't what they used to be...pleasurable and relaxing.

Picture me stirring something in my trusty cast-iron skillet at the Wedgewood stove with one daughter clinging to each leg and you get the idea. Fast and simple is my new specialty.

I am truly sorry that I've neglected to offer up many recipes for all this great summer food and drink. I mean to make amends.

You may be happy to learn that we four are eating well, and almost exclusively locally. I'd love to cut myself off from the supermarket altogether. But I can't seem to abandon those handy prepackaged cheese stixs and Cheddar Bunnies perfectly sized for a toddler's chubby fists.

There is so little inspiration at the supermarket, have you realized? That lighting, all that plastic packaging, those utilitarian aisles of decontextualized foodstuffs. Never mind the long bank of raw steaks, chicken parts and pork loins stewing in their own juices. Not a turn on.

Wouldn't it be great if they arranged the foods so that they suggested whole meals? Like a clothing store where they put coordinating pants and shirts and shoes in proximity. Imagine if the glossy pink filet of wild Alaskan sockeye salmon I spied today was situated near the scallions, bok choi and jasmine rice. I might have gone ahead and bought it.

At any rate, my inspiration usually comes from a key ingredient that I have on hand. Today that's some beautiful, tight-clustered heads of broccoli from my local grower Backyard Gardens. (Three cheers for owner Beth Gibans who moved to the Valley from the much less climactically challenged Portland 8+ years ago to feed us and start not one but two farmers' markets in our little towns.)


We take broccoli for granted. It's always around, army green, stalwart--and grown in Mexico. We make it a sideline, steaming it for a side dish or tossing it absentmindedly into a stir fry. "Whatever," we say to broccoli.

Unlike my children, it suffers from lack of attention. These sweet, tender-stalked baby heads of broccoli in my care I'm going to give their due. And when I'm done I'm going to shower all my attention on eating a whole bowlful without interruption--maybe in the hammock.

That's my version of a happy Fourth of July weekend.

Broccoli Caesar with Walnuts
Serves 2 as a main dish; 4-6 tossed with pasta

So many broccoli salads get doused in mayo. This one--to be served at room temperature--has all the flavor ingredients of a caesar salad minus the raw egg. Because I love the taste of all brassicas (that's broccoli's vegetable family that includes cauliflower) cooked over high, high heat, the broccoli gets seared instead of the typical blanching or steaming. Meaty and satisfying with the walnuts, I'll toss it with boiled farfalle for the kids and call it dinner.

4 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 pound fresh broccoli, stalks trimmed and snapped into florets
2 cloves garlic, mashed
1 teaspoon anchovy paste
1 lemon, zested on a box grater and cut in half
salt and pepper
3/4 cup toasted walnut pieces
parmigiano reggiano

Heat a wide skillet over high heat with 2 tablespoons of the olive oil. When it shimmers but before it smokes, add the broccoli. Let the broccoli sear for 1 minute, then stir once. Let it sear again for 1 minute and stir.

Continue in this fashion until the broccoli is scorched in places and dark green, about 5 minutes. (If you would like it more tender, carefully and slowly add a quarter cup of water to steam it. When the water has evaporated, continue with the recipe.)

Turn off the heat, but leave the skillet on the burner while you toss in the mashed garlic and anchovy paste until fragrant.

Transfer the broccoli into a salad bowl. Toss in the lemon zest and squeeze the juice from half of the lemon over the broccoli. Season to taste with salt and pepper and toss with the remaining 2 tablespoons of olive oil.

Let it cool to room temperature. Toss with the walnuts, crushing them with your hand as you add them to the bowl. Use a vegetable peeler to shave strips of parmesan cheese before serving.

Bargain Cherries?

After driving over 300 miles, many of them through the Yakima Valley, we came home to find Northwest cherries on sale at Safeway for $1.98 a pound.

In a roadside stand in Yakima, they were $2.99 a pound.

It makes you kinda wonder, huh?