Simple Salmon

I spent hours at my computer today archiving creative endeavors from the past four years, and I was curious about the connection between the bountiful feast I made for dinner and my day's work.

"In ancient Eastern Indian mythology, the fish is a symbol of transformation and creation. This is observed in the ancient flood myth in which Vishnu transformed himself into a fish (Matsya) to save the world from a great flood. In this form, he guided king Manu’s boat (which contained the select few survivors & seeds of life to re-create the world after the flood subsided) to safety.

Ancient African creation myths tell of Mangala, the creator, planting seeds in the cosmic womb. From these seeds two fish erupted, and were set forth into the cosmos upon the waters of creation. We see from this myth the symbolic meaning of fish yet again deals with fertility and creativity by embodying a new phase of initial life." -Symbolic Meanings

I'm digging the creation/transformation/fertility vibe, as I have literally emerged from winter hibernation and am joyous at having it in me to be getting things done and put out there! I'm thinking also of spawning salmon and their life giving cyclical return.

This was also my first go at cooking with the wood stove, a major source of life/heat, a womb like structure, a formative method for cooking--my grandmothers both used wood burning stoves in their kitchens. 


A couple of hours before I started dinner, I had three oak pieces going in the stove. I let these burn through and didn't add any new logs to the fire, knowing that I would need coals to cook. If you have live burning pieces of wood, you are likely to burn whatever it is you're cooking. Coals are for cooking.

I started by putting the following in a bowl and mixing it with a spoon:

Salmon Marinade
1 cup Terriyaki sauce
3 Tbls. diced fresh ginger root
1/2 cup brown sugar

Then put the salmon to rest in the marinade for about thirty minutes...I was too distracted to get to it earlier, but the flavors still came through in the final product.

Then I put the brown rice on. Brown rice can take twice as long as white, so you want to get this going first thing.

Brown Rice
2 1/2 cups of water bring to boil
once the water is boiling
throw in 1/2 tsp. of salt
stir in 1 cup of brown rice
cover and turn heat down to low
let this simmer until the rice has absorbed the water
fluff with a wooden spoon
*I'm still looking for an improvement in my brown rice...the end product was a little mushy so next time I'll try a bit less water and let you know what happens.

Meanwhile, I've heated the oven to 350 degrees. I rinsed two whole yams/sweet potatoes and punctured each several times with a fork. I put these as is on the oven rack and cook until fork inserts easily because the insides are done (soft). I served these like baked potatoes, literally plain! They have great flavor all on their own.

Now the salmon is ready to go into the stove. I wrap the salmon in foil, skin side down, slicing a lemon into circles and putting one on top of each salmon piece, and really wrapping the foil tightly around. I spread gray coals to a flat bottom in the stove. I put the aluminum wrapped salmon onto a grill rack, and set this above the coals.

When I could smell the salmon, I pulled it out to take a look and see whether it was done. I always find cooking meat a little scary, since I don't want it to be overcooked and tough, but I also don't want to make myself (or anyone else) sick because it wasn't done! With salmon, I understand that you're looking for a pink/white appearance. You use a fork to peel away the thickest portion, looking for good color. I could tell the first time I brought it out that it still had the fleshy red color--it wasn't done. So back in it went.

Now was a good time to put the kale greens I had on the stovetop. Greens are always the last step, as you want to serve them warm but you don't want to overcook them. Leafy greens tend to be fragile.The burner goes to medium heat, and I put the skillet on to get it warmed. Using a colander I rinse the kale greens, breaking off the stem at the bottom and discarding it. I split the leaves in half and keep the middle stem (stems hold some of the best nutrients). I put the leaves/stems onto the skillet with the water still clinging. A few times I add just a touch of water--an amount similar to what you would use if adding oil--so the leaves can steam cook. I turn the leaves with a wooden spoon until they are bright green. Dust the leaves lightly with kosher salt and plate immediately.

Then the salmon was sizzling so I took it out for a second look, and it was done!

I made a plate for the ancestors, and told myself to just look at what I was eating and think about what I was putting into my body while I ate. So often I find myself browsing the internet or looking at my calendar while I'm eating. This meal was telling me that it was nourishment for my body, inspiration for what comes next. An important expression within life is gratitude, and sitting down to a meal like this--seemingly so simple yet so filled with flavor, is something I am grateful for.

Great with a tall glass of tap water!

Cooking Up A Storm: Beans and Cornbread (Tandoori Chicken on the Side)

Loneliness had me at the grocery store on a Saturday night with a two page long grocery list and new recipes to try. Inspired by the "Cooking" chapter from Country Wisdom and Know-How, a collection of recipes founded on the precept that you'll be using primary ingredients from squash to flowers, you're sure to see more of my efforts in preparing recipes from this book to come. It really is a tome of soul-to-table cooking

I'm keeping the "Cherry Clafouti with Rose-Flavored Ice cream and Rose-Scented Whip Cream" recipe for a future Valentines Date with a hot steamy lover.

This weekend, it certainly was a smorgashboard of culturally influenced recipes. Where did all these dishes come from?! My list included Rhubarb Bread (all that South Dakota rhubarb!), Harvard Beets (recent personal obsession with these purple bulbs), Chicken Tandoori (Lower East Side Indian food, please!), Artichoke Dip (this past Christmas...I surmise I was after comfort food, though eating this just made me feel all the more sad).

David and I recently text back and forth on a lonely morning. 

Me:Pancakes are lonely without you

David: Paincakes?

For dessert "Iny's Prune Cake" from Ree Drummond's The Pioneer Woman Cooks, (again Americana, I'm thinking of little white haired ladies living in now defunct towns with flags waving). The Date Cake recipe I found in The Encyclopedia of Vegetarian Cooking is so good, I am faithful that this prune cake will have the same moist, deep, rich goodness!

So there I am, driving back from the grocery store in pitch black darkness up the side of a mountain at 11 o'clock at night. 

Drummonds'  "Beans and Cornbread" recipe formed the basis for the food to come. The beans went on at around midnight.  Drummond intersperses personal prose with the recipes in her cookbook, and she was speaking to me.

   "Do you ever allow yourself to experience the wonderful simplicity of a big ol' pot of beans....I just throw a pot of beans on the stove and all my cares and concerns instantly melt away. Beans are magical like that."

I needed some of that magic. 

Don't get me wrong--I'm getting all kinds of positive response to the work I'm doing here in South Dakota. Five dudes from Portland are going to come play at my "Summertime BBQ," for crying out loud. What more could a girl ask for? All I can say is, we all struggle. I guess it chalks up to personal demons. 

The first observation I had after moving from a city of 8 million or so people to a town of 311 (that's three hundred and eleven people, in case you wondered, you're dead right) was that I could feel everything. I'm intense as it is. This is like Artistic submersion or something. Hold on, 'cause here we go!  Which again, don't get me wrong, I appreciate. I feel like I need to offer up a huge banquet table of thanks for all this goodness.

But back to midnight, pot of beans boiling on the stove, middle of the night pitch black darkness. There I am with a whole fryer chicken at the kitchen sink pulling out guts and breaking tendons and skinning the damn thing...it was so real. This chicken might has well have been animated talking to me. So I started talking to it.
"Thank you chicken. I am so sorry," and so on. 

Yeah, that was me. 

By 1 a.m. I'm starting to get kind of stressed out. There are chicken  pieces marinating in Tandoori spices in the refrigerator, and I've put the carcass in a pot of water to boil. I got to a point in the preparation of the thing where I couldn't cut meat from it's mini sized body any longer. I did the best I could and decided to make chicken stock with the rest. 

Now there's a chicken carcass and a pot of pinto beans boiling on the stovetop. I set the alarm for 2 a.m.  

In my half dazed kind of sleep I have a dream. 

"Those are Walla Walla onions" I say emphatically. 

That's it. That's the dream.

 Walla Walla is a farming town in Washington, the state where my life got its start. When I bought the $3 bag of yellow onions I didn't notice they were from Washington until I got back to the yurt and was putting them away. It brought me a sene of home to see Walla Walla onions (some of the best in the world) in my kitchen. 

Just before the alarm goes off I get myself up, turn the stove off, and let the beans and chicken stock cool as I sleep.

 In the morning I pour myself coffee in the huge "Terrier" mug which for some reason is comforting to me in its sheer largeness.

I make Sour Cream Pancakes, which weren't any good. It was either the on-its-way-out sour cream, or I just don't like Sour Cream Pancakes. I won't try making those again.

Then I put the Tandoori chicken in the oven. Mix up the cornrbread with fresh sliced jalapenos in it. Bake that in the oven right next to the chicken. Re-heat those pinto beans on the stovetop. Rinse the cilantro. Open a beer. 

I start to plot the BBQ menu for the boys from Portland, one of whom is vegan. I put the laundry in. Make a show poster. then I engulf that plate of food.

I feel slightly better now, if only because writing is a comfort to me. That and the pinto beans.

note: For two days the rain stormed and thunder clapped. As I complete this writing, the clouds have cleared. The sun is making its effort at shining once again.

C.G. Di Arie with Habanero Sausage

2004 Petite Sirah Lodi California

This one will suck the back of your teeth off!

It's a 2004 Petite Sirah (my first ever) and I've loved every minute of it. Very intense. Inky purple wine loaded with tannins. The cork is evidence to this!

I'm taking my sweet time with this wine. 

Note to Self: remember on the Mosel

Where the Mosel river meets the Rhine. I hope I'm remembering correctly the sweet gentleman with white beard and squinty eyes peering out from flushed cheeks, oh I could have listened to him talk for hours!

Trockenbeerenauslesen und Beerenauslese were his recommendations, where the Mosel meets the Rhine.

A broom hanging by the door signifies that wine is made therein. From very small family made wine, to beautiful ancient vineyards, he supposes you can wander anywhere and find the most incredible wine.

After drinking Beerenauslese, you will taste the sweet concentration of berry for the next two days!

With friends like family in Koln and Berlin, I have to confess, this man was an angel voice reminding me, Deutschland, Deutschland!


Bald werde ich eines Tages nach Deutschland zuruckkehren.
Someday soon I will return to Germany.

Saldo, and other tales from the Wine Country

And it's not where you expected!

Moving to South Dakota was supposed to be about Indian ways and "going back to the garden." It still is. Interestingly, the intersection has taken me to a wine country no one would have expected. South Dakota.

Where the grapes have to struggle to survive, and wine is made bent by the seasons. It's the real deal. Wine is a fifteen hundred year old tradition, so I'm not suffering to listen to the grapes a while, to learn their stories.

And it's a great way to get to know good people.

The job I found (that in its own way found me as well, by considering me in the position of Tasting Room Manager at a Winery) has put me smack in the middle of wine-talk and education. From coffee to wine. Yup. Though I don't have to think too hard to recognize that managing the Wine & Cheese at Think for three years has something to do with this evolution. It's interesting, because we were 100% International in our selection.

Here in the "Great West!" the land of the free home of the brave, the wine is all American. Comparisons are likely to be Californian, and grape talk is divided into three categories: California, Washington, and Midwest. (Little mention of East Coast grapes though I'm anticipating learning the subtlety of what I'm sure has merit in some way).

In some ways, this Americ-centric view of wine is good because it is about local/regional and even indigenous plant life.

So a lot to learn, still, so much to learn.

I've taken it upon myself to buy one bottle of wine each week in the name of education. I was recommended to a fantastic wine shop in Rapid City called Smiths, whose owner, Tim Smith, has pointed me in the right direction on my first two visits.

I had been invited to a gathering in honor of spring, the May Beltane, and Sauvignon Blancs were in order. Tim suggested Kim Crawford's. Which I would discover is the "it" word for good wine. Everybody knows Kim Crawford. My vocabulary stops at grassy, for now anyway, and grassy was satisfying to me. Man did that wine pop.

We had our photographs taken, and I carefully drove home passing deer and other wild animals in the night.

~~~

The next week, I was back at Smiths, this time for myself. So dry red it would be. Tim offered his help, though I wanted to wander a bit before honing in on my selection. Eventually, it would be his staff pic card that drew my attention to Saldo, a very special Zinfandel (I'm still ignorant enough in wine to think Zinfandel could only be white. Is it a mutually exclusive fact that all wine is ultimately from a red or gray grape, it's just a matter of how long the skin is in contact with the juice that makes it white or red? More details on that at some future date).

Saldo, I pointed out the second time Tim came by, was what I was considering.
"The two bottles are the last I'll be able to get," he explained, and I was sold.

Back at home, I tried it out with some gouda cheese, and one glass into it I was buzzing! What a wine. I seem to remember his card mentioning a full mouthful without being too overbearing. True, true.

Of course as fate would decree, not two days later at work, what should come up, but Saldo! The real wine nerds at the winery have a wine club, which commits me to 6 bottles at a time (at wholesale prices) so I'm thinking I'll actually start a wine collection. And Saldo just may be our first order.

Homeade Naan, Dandelion Orange & Fennel Salad, and Mince Curry and Peas

Of course I lack a Tandoor oven, so we simply rolled the dough out round and flat , heated a frying pan with a slight amount of vegetable oil, and fried them.

This recipe for Garlic Naan was easy and quite like the real thing. Truth be told, the Naan was an afterthought. I've returned to King Adz Urban Cookbook time and time again, for its cross cultural city-food roots to my own tastes. The "Mince Curry and Peas" recipe was no exception. I hesitated at "4 tsps ground cumin," etc. The recipe called for 9 total tsp.'s of spice! Though I could have gone all the way with it and still been in the realm of reason. More about depth and aromatic qualities, this dish was by no means hot.

Most important, was the Naan bread. It otherwise would have been like eating Sloppy Joes without buns.

Oh, and a note on time. Our meal started with a trip to the grocery store (on foot, this is Brooklyn, you know), and the actual cooking time for the Mince and Naan was something like four hours. The salad kept hunger at bay, with Dandelion's hardy nutrient rich leafy greens and a nice small glass of biodynamic red wine (Chateau la Baume Costieres de Nimes) surprisingly filling.

We were only grumpy once, and at the start of the night at that (the prospect of carrying groceries on our backs yet again on a chilly spring night for two tired people was enough to put anyone in a bad mood). Back at home with chocolate chip cookies making their way out of the oven

we were perfectly content to watch episodes of Lost between trips to the stove to stir the Mince, and several longer interludes while punching down the dough, mixing in the garlic, and creating mini rolls as part of Naan prep.

In the end, it was a perfect meal for a long Saturday night.

And even better as leftovers for breakfast!

Came Upon A Coffee Windfall

At the end of September, Think Coffee hosted the The Specialty Coffee Association of America   and three days of coffee workshops. When the students and instructors had all gone home, a massive surplus of ground coffee remained. Guess who cashed in on this surplus, you got it, me!

Most coffee specialists agree that ground coffee must be consumed immediately to benefit from the full experience of the bean. Waste not want not, I say. So I carried home two overlflowing armfuls of the stuff, and have spent my mornings trying out the creme de la creme of the coffee world. 

The brown bags on the left contain the coffee.

The beans are  Single Origin (from a sole geographic locale, in this case harvested and produced by individual coffee farms as well). Mornings have taken on the aspect of a world adventure.

David wanders out to the coffee table in red velvet puma sweats and starts the percolator up. (We both bless the day he found this "vintage" Percolator at Goodbye Blue Monday ). 

When the aroma hits, the coffee is ready.

Dave pours two cups and announces, "This morning we're off to Costa Rica" or wherever the place may be.

Join me on a tour of the world's coffees...this morning,  "We're off to Sumatra!"