"Hunker Down Eating"

Whether yesterday's windstorm was a blowout or a blowhard (see photo of the toppled tree in Northeast Portland, below), it's just a harbinger of winter weather to come. This recipe from contributor Jim Dixon of Real Good Food is perfect for cold weather when hardy winter greens like kale and collards are at their best. After the first frost, these plants put out sugars which act as antifreeze and make them sweet and tender when cooked!

During wet and wild weather I want to eat hot, comforting bowls of beans and greens.

Tree toppled in windstorm in Northeast Portland.

If you cook beans a couple of times each week like I do, you'll always have some on hand ready to heat up. Here's how I make the greens.

Basic Braised Greens

I think cavolo nero (aka Tuscan kale) and collard greens taste better than curly kale. My basic approach is to braise them with onion, olive oil, salt and water. The secret ingredient is time; these sturdy greens are best if cooked for at least 45 minutes. More tender greens (chard, spinach, beet, etc) cook more quickly, so they usually just get a quick sauté.

Chop an onion and start cooking it in enough extra virgin olive oil to cover the bottom of your pan (anything with a lid will be fine). While the onion cooks, chiffonade a bunch of greens: Roll several leaves at a time into a tight bundle and cut into quarter-inch slices. Or stack several flat and slice them. I like to cut these ribbons into pieces about 2 inches long for easier eating. It isn’t necessary to cut out the central stalk; you’re going to cook it tender.

Add the greens to the onion along with some salt and at least a cup of water; use more water if you want more pot likker. Cover, reduce heat to simmer, and cook. Check after 20 minutes and add water if needed to keep the bottom of the pot covered (I’ve burned greens more than once; if they're not completely black just say they’re “caramelized"). Let them simmer for at least 45 minutes; longer is okay (but check for water). Drizzle with a bit of fresh extra virgin at the table.

Salad Smackdown: Nectarines Make Kale and Lentil Salad Sing

Lentils. Weren't they that popular hippie food from the 60s and 70s that were almost as ubiquitous as brown rice, and just as often overcooked? Cheap and quick, all it took was a pot of water, an onion—adding a carrot was getting pretty exotic—and 20 minutes to turn them into soup for a crowd. A pinch of curry powder in a pot of the cooked beans gave an air of the Indian subcontinent to a meal.

Now, of course, we are awash in choices of lentils in the bulk section of our supermarkets: brown, green, red, yellow, French, Spanish, Italian. The other day I was browsing for ideas in the aisles of my local market and saw some good old brown lentils, but these were organic and grown in Oregon. Awesome!

It was another very warm day here in the Willamette Valley—it seems like we've an extraordinary number of those this summer—and a salad seemed preferable to heating up the already overly warm house by turning on the oven. Twenty minutes on top of the stove seemed do-able, though, so I put the lentils on to cook and rummaged in the vegetable bin for ingredients.

This dish was so successful, by the way, that it's now going in the permanent rotation. Plus it keeps really well in the fridge, like a good slaw improving by spending a few hours (or overnight) allowing the flavors to meld.

Kale, Lentil and Nectarine Salad

3 c. lacinato kale, sliced into chiffonade
2 c. cooked lentils
1/4 red onion, chopped fine
1/2 cucumber, seeded, quartered lengthwise and thinly sliced crosswise
1 red bell pepper, roasted and thinly sliced into 1"long pieces
2 nectarines, chopped into 1/2” pieces
Juice of 1 lemon
1/4 c. olive oil
Salt to taste

Combine ingredients in large salad bowl. Toss. Adjust seasonings.

Fritter Chronicles: Tuna or Kale, It's All Good!

Contributor Jim Dixon of Real Good Food is a fritter fanatic, and he's back on track sharing his recipes for some phenomenal fritter satisfaction.

Sicilian Fritters with Oregon Albacore (Polpette di Tonno con Fiore di Finocchio)

These small tuna won’t be running for another 6 months, but Oregon albacore in a can or jar* is in season all year. Buy it canned in its own juice (and don’t drain it off!). If you can’t find any at your favorite market, order directly from the folks who catch it. In Sicily a mix of tuna and swordfish often goes into these, but they’re great with just the canned albacore.

At the fish market in Palermo.

Dump the fish and the juices in the can into a bowl and flake it with a fork. For each can of fish (typically 6-7 ounces), mix in an egg, a chopped shallot, about a tablespoon of bread crumbs, pinch of salt, and a teaspoon or so of fennel pollen (fiore, flower, in Italian). If the mixture seems dry, add another egg.

Use two soup spoons to form walnut-sized “meatballs.” I make mine more flat than round, but only because it’s a little easier than rolling them into balls. Pan fry in extra virgin olive oil until brown. Traditionally served in a simple tomato sauce, they’re pretty good plain.

* Sweet Creek Foods also has Oregon albacore, and is available at New Seasons and other markets.

Kale Fritters

These are the best thing to do with leftover cooked vegetables of any kind. But it's also pretty easy to drop a bunch of greens in a pot of boiling water. Any of the leafy kales—green, red, or Italian—work well, but I prefer the Italian for both flavor and texture. Drop a bunch into a pot of salted water and cook for about 5 minutes (or microwave for a few minutes). You want the kale wilted and partially cooked.

Kale fritters frying in olive oil.

Chop the kale into small pieces, the stem ends even smaller than the leafy ends. Use the whole stem, but make sure the thicker pieces are chopped small. You can do it in the processor, but I think the hand-cut texture is much better.

Combine the chopped kale in bowl with about a quarter cup of breadcrumbs, roughly the same amount of grated Parmigiano Reggiano cheese, 2-3 cloves of minced garlic, a nice pinch of salt and a couple of eggs. Mix well, then see if you can form a small, walnut-sized fritter using two soup spoons. If it won’t hold together, add another egg or two (and if it’s really soupy, more breadcrumbs).

Use the two spoons (the classic quenelle technique) to make the fritters, sliding each into hot extra virgin olive oil as you make it. Gently flatten each fritter, cook over medium until nicely browned, then flip and cook the other side. Sprinkle with flor de sal after they come out of the pan. These are good hot or cold, and they reheat in a skillet nicely. A little Crystal hot sauce is a nice touch.

Raw or Braised? The Kale Debate Rages On

I know of very few people who are more dedicated to the regular consumption of brassicas than contributor Jim Dixon of Real Good Food. In this essay he takes on raw kale lovers, staking out his ground on the side of long, slow cooking.

I have too many cookbooks, but that doesn’t stop me from buying more. David Tanis’ new one, One Good Dish, just arrived, and one of the first things I read as I thumbed the pages was his recipe for kale (top photo). Sorry to all the kale salad lovers, but I’m with Tanis; the leafy greens from these hardy Brassicas taste best after long cooking.

Then I saw “fried bread in the Iberian manner,” Spanish-style migas made from dry bread, another thing I make fairly often. And polentina, a Tuscan vegetable soup thickened with a spoonful of corn meal. The recipes in One Good Dish resonate because they’re just like the food I make every day. Maybe there’s some confirmation bias involved, but this is a book you could cook from for a long time.

Here are my versions of long-cooked kale and Iberian fried bread.

Braised Greens

I cook either cavolo nero (aka Tuscan kale) or collard greens every week, and I always braise them with onion, olive oil, salt, and water. They’re so good I don’t think I need to try anything else (unless it's this). The secret ingredient is time; the greens are best if cooked for at least 45 minutes.

Chop an onion and start cooking it in enough extra virgin olive oil to cover the bottom of your pan (anything with a decent lid will be fine). While the onion cooks, chiffonade a bunch of greens: roll half the bunch into a tight bundle and cut into quarter inch slices. It isn’t necessary to cut out the central stalk since you’re going to cook them until they’re tender.

Add the greens to the onion along with some salt and about a half cup of water. Cover and reduce heat to simmer. Check after 20 minutes, and add water if needed to keep the bottom of the pot covered (I’ve burned greens more than once; sometimes you can save them and just say they’re “caramelized). Let them simmer for at least 45 minutes, longer is okay (but check for water). Drizzle with a bit of fresh extra virgin at the table.

Migas

Like Tanis, I usually have some kind of old bread in the kitchen. After a few days of fresh bread and toast, I cut the rest of the loaf into rough cubes and leave it out to get dry (a much better outcome than finding a moldy slice in the bag). For migas, I’ll use it after a day or so, but even older, really hard bread can be revived by sprinkling with a couple of tablespoons of water (let it sit for 15 minutes before frying).

Use enough extra virgin olive oil to cover the bottom of a heavy skillet; heat it over a medium flame until it shimmers, then add the bread and fry gently until it’s nicely browned. Add some chopped onion and a little garlic if you like, and the rest depends on what’s at hand.

Migas are leftover food for me, so I’ll pull out whatever bits and pieces I have tucked in the refrigerator. Spanish-style chorizo, the dry cured salami version, is classic, and any kind of cured pork can fill in. Don’t have any? Use leftover chicken, diced bacon, or just leave it out. (For other ideas: migas with ham, eggplant migas.)

I always have cabbage, so I’ll chop a little and add it to the skillet. Peppers are good, too. Let everything cook together and get a little crispy, then splash in a a tablespoon or so of good vinegar (Katz, of course) and finish with a a few shakes of the smoky Spanish paprika called pimenton. Top with an fried egg or two if you like.

Raab, Rabe, Rape, Rapini…It's Time!

A day or two of sunshine and 50-plus degree weather, and my kale plants were busting with buds, aka raab, rape, rapini or rabe.

As Jim Dixon said in his rant on the subject, these greens are the immature buds of various cruciferous plants like chard, kale, collards and broccoli. They pop out in the spring for a short period, then flower and set seeds to make more of their kind. Like their adult versions, they're packed with vitamins and nutrients and, as I constantly tell my son when I serve them, "Your colon will thank me when you're my age."

I like them simply sautéed with a little olive oil and garlic, maybe some bacon if you've got it, and served as is, maybe as a bed under meat or fish. Though they're terrific blanched and chopped into salads and pastas or sprinkled on pizza, too. If you don't have any in your garden, not to worry…there are scads of all kinds of them at the farmers' markets.

Remember: your colon will thank you…

"Chicken Run Over By a Truck" aka Spatchcock

Roast chicken is one of the easiest, most satisfying comfort foods there is. Contributor Jim Dixon of Real Good Food, a devotée of roasted fowl, has perfected the technique of flattening it by snipping through the breast bone, which adds a step but cuts the cooking time. Plus it looks cool…always a reason to try something new!

Ass-backward Spatchcocked Chicken on Fingerlings & Kale

I could call this butterflied through the breast, but ass-backward spatchcock sounds much better. It’s my go-to chicken roasting technique, and I’ve got the details on how to do it on my website. I’ve cooked a lot of different vegetables under the chicken, but this combination is my current favorite.

Once you’ve split and salted the chicken, slice a pound or more of fingerling potatoes in half lengthwise. Slice an onion and chop up a bunch of Italian (aka lacinato) kale. Drizzle some extra virgin into a large skillet, add the vegetables and top with the chicken (skin side up).

Roast at 350° for at least an hour or until the chicken is done to your liking. Let it rest for at least 10 minutes before cutting into pieces. Toast some good bread to soak up some of the juices in the skillet.

I Say Raab, You Say Rabe

When I planted those lacinato kale seeds in the garden last spring, I figured I'd get some good eating from their greens later in the summer. Indeed, that did happen until they became infested with aphids and the dusty grey bugs and their residue couldn't be washed off the leaves. At that point I thought they were pretty much done and it was time to pull them out.

Then Anthony Boutard mentioned that he prefers these greens in the winter, when the cold weather causes the plants to produce sugar as a kind of anti-freeze. So I left them in, pulling off the leaves for salads, soups and sides and discovering, by golly, that Anthony wasn't pulling my leg. There was a definite sweetness that crept in as the winter progressed.

As the plant grew, looking like a Dr. Suess illustration of a tiny palm tree, the leaves became smaller and smaller, and again I thought about pulling them up. About then I noticed that little heads were forming with buds that looked like the raab I love at the spring farmers' markets. I picked one off and tasted it…nutty, green, sweet…woohoo!

So about the time the raab runs out it'll be time to plant new seeds and get a whole new year's worth of eating. Who knew?

For more, read Jim Dixon's rant about the "immature flower buds from various cabbage relatives."

My Damascene Moment

Like Paul of Tarsus on his fateful journey to Damascus, there I was, just walking the dog on our usual route up the hill, throwing in a set of stairs to get some cardio. Unlike Paul, I had my feet on solid ground so wasn't knocked off my horse and blinded when the revelation hit. And, truth be told, my bombshell was of a more pedestrian variety.

The clouds had parted, the rays from the sun shone down and it was revealed to me what we were going to have for dinner. Yes, dinner. Thus, instead of running out to preach the gospel, I jumped in Chili and ran to the store, because in that miraculous moment of inspiration I saw…meatloaf.

Now if that seems like a let-down in the pantheon of revelation stories, perhaps even showing a slight lack of imagination on the part of the revelatee, let me tell you that when you're the person responsible for making your family dinner every night, you're happy for any and all inspirations, holy or otherwise.

And the result? As you can see from the photo above, it was moist, meaty and oh-so-satisfying, and went perfectly with the mashers and salad served alongside. And the songs of praise from the assembled throng (well, Dave and our son and the dogs, anyway) was heavenly, indeed.

Fennel and Kale Meatloaf

2 Tbsp. oil
1 onion, chopped
3 cloves garlic, chopped fine
4 anchovy filets
1 bulb fennel, chopped into 1/4" dice
2 c. kale, sliced into chiffonade
1 lb. hamburger
1 lb. ground pork
1 egg
1/2 c. milk
1/2 c. bread crumbs
1 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. pepper
1 Tbsp. chopped fresh herbs (or 1-2 tsp. dried) like cilantro, oregano, basil or whatever strikes your fancy

Preheat oven to 350°.

Heat oil in skillet and sauté onion and garlic till transparent. Add anchovies and sauté till filets dissolve. Add fennel and sauté till tender. Add kale and continue sautéing till wilted. Remove to flat pie plate and chill in refrigerator while you prepare the meat mixture.

Combine ground meat, egg, milk, bread crumbs, salt, pepper and herbs in large mixing bowl. Combine thoroughly with spoon, fork or your hands (don't squish it but keep your fingers open like a fork…you want a loose mixture, not a solid mass). Add chilled vegetable mix and combine. Hand-form into loaf on roasting pan. Bake 45 min.-1 hr. until instant-read thermometer inserted in thickest part reads between 140-150° (cookbooks all say 160°, but I find that results in drier meatloaf, so you decide for yourself). Remove from oven, tent with foil and allow to rest for 15-20 min. while you mash potatoes and make the salad. Slice and serve.

No Mumbo Jumbo, Just Gumbo

Like contributor Jim Dixon of RealGoodFood, I like to do a little research online when confronted with a new topic. So when I got his essay on Cajun gumbo z'herbes, it was mere moments before I was happily clicking through links on the Goog. It's there I read one recipe that called for no fewer than five greens in a proper z'herbes (Jim uses one). Another said that many Cajun Catholics, who developed gumbo z'herbes for days when meat-eating was discouraged, will often add a ham hock or other meat for "seasoning" purposes only, pulling it out before the meal is eaten and keeping the meatless letter of the law.

I’m continuing my exploration of gumbo, and it seems the more I learn, the less I know. The best primer I’ve found is on Wikipedia. The bottom line seems to be that a whole lot of stuff has been called gumbo. Some has okra, some has file, some has neither. But my gumbo is most like the Cajun versions, which always start here: “first, make a roux.”

My first roux followed the advice of New Orleans chefs Donald Link and John Besh, which meant an hour of stirring the fat and flour until it looked like dark chocolate (top photo). The process is straightforward, but does require some care and attention. Then I saw a discussion on eGullet about making roux in the oven. I tried it, it worked, and it fits right into my general approach to cooking, which is making things when I have the time, then using them for a meal one, or even several, days later (beans, for example).

Gumbo with Greens

In a cast iron skillet I stirred together a half cup each of extra virgin olive oil and white whole wheat flour (made from soft white wheat; I use whole grains whenever I can, and this worked fine for the roux). The skillet went in to a 350° oven, and two hours later I had a beautifully dark roux. I scraped it into a small bowl and put it in the refrigerator.

I’d been wanting to make a simple version of gumbo z’herbes, a sometimes vegetarian gumbo often served only at Lent (which was last week). Traditional recipes call for a variety of greens, often a number significant to Catholic theology (seven for example, akin to the Sicilian feast of seven fishes served Christmas Eve), and usually the vegetables are cooked and sieved to a puree. It’s a lot of work, and after reading what Salon’s Francis Lam wrote about it, I knew I needed to tweak the recipe.

My version only uses one green, my favorite, cavolo nero (aka “lacinato” kale). Collard greens or even regular kale would work, or you could use a variety of greens. I heated my oven-made roux gently in a Dutch oven (you don’t want it to burn), then added a chopped onion and cooked it for several minutes. Roughly equal amounts of chopped celery and green bell pepper went in next, followed by half a jalapeno (also chopped) and several cloves of garlic. Season with chile powder, cayenne, salt, black pepper and paprika, or use a Cajun spice blend.(If you want to tart this up with some andouille, tasso ham, or other smoky pork product, cut whatever you choose in smallish chunks and toss it in.)

While these vegetables cook for about 10 minutes, chiffonade a bunch of cavolo nero (take about half the leaves, stack them together, roll into a tight bundle, and cut across the stem into roughly half inch ribbons). Add the greens to pot and pour in 3 to 4 cups of water. Stir and simmer, uncovered, for at least an hour; 2 or even 3 hours even better. You may need to add a little more water depending on how thick you want your gumbo (dark roux makes a thinner gumbo). Serve with Kokuho Rose brown rice.

Getting to the Root

Contributor Jim Dixon of RealGoodFood has been a big influence on me, especially when it comes to root vegetables. Growing up in a family where a can of creamed corn qualified as a vegetable, it's been refreshing to get comfortable with these ultimate comfort foods. Below you'll find Jim's recipes for a celery root and sweet potato gratin and one for creamed kale, both of which I've been working on here at home (a photo of my dish using kale, above; recipe to come). Great minds think alike!

Celery Root and Sweet Potato Gratin

Celery root looks awful and requires serious (but easy) paring to get to the good stuff, and the results are worth the effort. I’ve used a swivel peeler, but I think the best approach is slicing away the exterior with a chef’s knife. The root end holds a lot of dirt, and while I’ve carved around the crevasses, these days I don’t try so hard to save every little morsel. However you choose to attack the thing, you want to end up with mostly creamy looking interior. Cut into chunks.

For this gratin, I use white flesh sweet potatoes (as opposed to the sweeter orange fleshed varieties often sold as yams, but really just different varieties of sweet potato).   Peel and cube as much as you need to yield about the same amount as the celery root. Steam them together until tender, then mash coarsely. [They're also terrific if you take the cubes, toss 'em in olive oil and roast in a 350° oven till tender, about 45 min. Then mash or leave them cubed. - KAB]

Add a generous pour of olive oil (start with a few tablespoons or so; add more if it seems dry), a few shakes of pimenton (smoked paprika from Spain), and salt. Spread into a baking dish, top with bread crumbs, and bake at 350° until nicely browned.

Creamed Greens

Inspired by the way Jason French cooks this at Ned Ludd, I’ve been making creamed greens for the past few weeks. I’m pretty sure Jason’s have some pork parts, but I kept things a little more simple. A splash of fish sauce provides an extra hit of umami. At Ned Ludd the greens go on brioche toasted in the wood oven; at my house (and for the ski weekend) it’s New Seasons’ wheat levain.

Chiffonade a bunch of collards by rolling several leaves in a tight bundle, then slicing across the stem into half inch ribbons. Cut these into slightly shorter pieces. Chop an onion and cook it in a bit of olive oil for a few minutes. Add the greens, a shot of fish sauce (maybe a tablespoon or so), and maybe a half cup of water. Cover, reduce heat to a simmer, and cook for at least 40 minutes.

When the greens are very tender, remove the lid, add about a half cup of cream (or creme fraiche), bump up the heat to medium, and let them cream bubble away gently for another 15 minutes or so. Serve over root vegetable gratin (recipe above) or toast or, if you don’t want to use a knife and fork, cut the bread into cubes and put the creamy greens on top.

Social Experiment

My mother loved to entertain, and I remember many evenings reluctantly trudging upstairs to bed, falling asleep to the sound of vehement discussions and laughter floating up the stairs. One of her rules was that she never tried a new recipe out on her guests, preferring instead to stay with the tried and true.

Me, I think there's no better excuse to try something new than having folks over. I first tried out a new (to me) sauce called "pesto" on guests, and over the years there have been myriad salads, braised meats and desserts that were, for the most part, great successes. Though I have to admit there were a (very) few that, how shall I put it, will never be spoken of, or made, again.

So when my friend Peter invited us to bring an appetizer for dinner the other night, I mulled over the usual suspects…dips, wings, crostini/bruschetta, etc.…but nothing really clicked. Plus I really didn't want to make a trip to the store. So I looked around and took stock: tomatoes and kale in the garden, onions, garlic and parmesan in the pantry. Then I remembered a photo of an amazing tomato tart I'd seen on the cover of a cookbook, and the deal, as they say, was sealed.

Made with all sizes and colors of tomatoes, it fit perfectly with what I had on hand, though it would have been great with simple red tomatoes, too. The thin layer of sautéed kale and parmesan tucked underneath was just the right bass note for the bright treble of the fresh tomatoes. And the dinner that night, with great food, wine and friends laughing and talking, was one my mother would have loved. Even if I broke one of her rules.

Tomato, Kale and Parmesan Tart

For the crust:
1 1/4 c. flour
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 c. cold butter or margarine, cut into pieces
2-3 Tbsp. ice water

For the filling:
1 Tbsp. olive oil
1/2 onion, chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced
4-6 leaves lacinato (or black) kale, sliced into chiffonade
1/2 c. parmesan, grated fine
3-4 tomatoes, sliced in 1/4" thick slices (cherry tomatoes can be halved)

Preheat oven to 375°.

Put flour and salt in the bowls of a food processor and pulse to combine. Add pieces of butter and pulse until the texture of cornmeal. With processor running, drizzle in water until it comes together in the bowl. (I usually use 2 1/2 Tbsp. and it comes together well without being too wet.) Remove from bowl, adding in any stray bits, wrap in plastic and refrigerate at least 1/2 hour.

Roll out dough on floured surface to make 12" round. Transfer to 9" diameter tart pan with removable bottom. Trim edges, leaving 3/4" overhang. Fold overhang in to form double-thick sides. Press tart edges to raise dough 1/8" above pan. Chill in refrigerator for 30 min.

Add olive oil to non-stick skillet and heat until oil shimmers. Add chopped onion and garlic and sauté till golden, stirring frequently to avoid browning. Add kale chiffonade and sauté till wilted. Remove from heat and set aside.

Line crust with foil and bake until golden, about 20 min. Remove from oven and cool slightly. Scatter kale mixture over the bottom of the crust, then sprinkle with parmesan. Top with single layer of tomatoes, arranging randomly. Place in oven and bake for 40 min. or until crust is browned and tomatoes are cooked through. Let cool slightly and remove outer ring. Slide off bottom onto serving platter. Serve warm or at room temperature. (And I hear the leftovers are great for breakfast the next day.)

Summer Salad Smackdown: Talk About Going Green!

It was a revelation, an epiphany, an awakening. I'd had brussels sprouts before, of course, roasted, steamed, stir-fried and hashed. But what was sitting on my lunch plate at Olympic Provisions was different in almost every way, a salad comprised of shaved, raw brussels sprouts.

Yes, raw. With a few roughly chopped castelvetrano olives and a hint of minced anchovies, tossed with a very simple dressing of olive oil, fresh lemon and salt.

Crunchy, bright and irresistible, I went back again and again. I couldn't stop talking about it. I made several stabs at copying it, finally achieving my goal. Then brussels sprouts went out of season and I had to find a substitute.

Then it hit me…raw kale! I'd made a run at a kale salad before, and while it was perfectly acceptable, it hadn't grabbed me the way the brussels sprout salad had. So with a bunch of my favorite kale, lacinato, in hand, I chopped a fine chiffonade of the dark springy leaves, mixed in the rest of the ingredients and took a bite.

Perfection! It's now become the hit of our summer table, since it's a great match with any grilled fish,  chicken or meat, and is comfortable in any setting, whether fancy or casual. Who would have thought raw could be so refined?

Kale Salad with Anchovies, Olives and Lemon

1 bunch lacinato kale (also known as Tuscan, black or cavalo nero)
10 castelvetrano olives, pitted and roughly chopped
3-6 anchovies, minced
3-4 Tbsp. olive oil
Juice of 1 lemon or chopped preserved lemons
Salt to taste

Chop a fine chiffonade of kale. It's not necessary to remove the stems completely, though I remove the thicker stems at the bottom and chop the remaining greens. Place kale in large salad bowl and add the olives, anchovies (start with the lesser number and add to taste), olive oil and lemon juice. Toss, adding salt to taste. I like to make this a half hour before serving so the kale has a chance to wilt slightly.

More salads in the Smackdown: Panzanella with Heirloom Tomatoes, Basil and Grilled Bread.

A Little More Comfort

The other day I heard someone call the weather we've been having "June-uary," an apt descriptor for the chilly deluge that's drowned previous rainfall records and nearly pushed the Willamette over its banks for the first time since the Clinton administration.

And while the weathermen are saying it's going to start drying out soon…btw, that job has to have been fun lately, huh?…I can almost guarantee there are going to be a few more evenings where it'll be nice to turn on the oven and fill up on something warm and hearty.

The other night I found myself staring at the Le Creuset and thinking a nice casserole would be just the thing for dinner. Then I remembered a polenta dish I'd experimented with a few years ago. Since we still have a few bags of Ayers Creek's Roy's Calais flint corn in the freezer from some propitious hoarding I did last fall, I pulled one out and grabbed some frozen tomato sauce from last summer. A little chopped kale, a little cheese and—voila!—instant comfort.

Polenta, Tomato and Cheese Casserole

4 c. chicken stock (or vegetable stock)1 Tbsp. butter, margarine or olive oil
1 1/2 c. polenta
Salt and pepper to taste
3 c. tomato or spaghetti sauce
2 c. chopped kale
2-3 c. cheese (mozzarella, parmesan, cheddar or any combination)

Preheat oven to 350°. While oven warms, heat stock in medium saucepan over high heat, adding butter at the beginning. When it starts to boil, reduce heat and whisk in polenta. Keep at bare simmer and stir for a few minutes until it is the consistency of porridge, adding salt and pepper to taste. Reduce heat to lowest setting and cover, stirring occasionally to make sure it doesn't burn.

Heat sauce until it is warm. Stir in kale and allow it to wilt. Grate cheese. Pour half of polenta into 2 1/2 qt. casserole, top with half of sauce and half of cheese. Pour rest of polenta over that and top with rest of sauce and cheese. Place in oven and bake for 30 min. until cheese melts and begins to brown.

Farm Bulletin: Giving Thanks

The transition from fall to winter prompts reflection, which might account for Thanksgiving's place on the calendar at the end of November. Contributor Anthony Boutard takes a moment to express appreciation for those who help get his and Carol's goods to market, as well as to take the measure of some of this year's successful crops.

This week marks the last of the weekly markets at Hillsdale Farmers' Market. Next month we assemble but fortnightly. The market starts at 10 am, and is located in the parking lot of Wilson High School.

We do want to take a moment to acknowledge market manager Eamon "Shoehorn" Molloy and the Hillsdale Farmers' Market volunteers. Sometimes you all ask us why we only come to Hillsdale. Our answer: Why mess with perfection? It is a wonderful neighborhood market, and the intimacy that results is why we want to be at the market. Shoehorn and the board have been careful to keep that neighborhood spirit alive, and we appreciate their efforts. Thank you.

The staff at Ayers Creek is regularly joined by volunteer helpers on Fridays. Especially in the winter when our staff is working Copenhaven Nursery down the road and the harvesting falls to the two us, a few extra hands make a huge difference. For the last few years, Linda Johnson helped us harvest winter vegetables. This spring, Linda, a dancer, accepted an appointment at Mills College, so we picked up a new Linda, Colwell that is, who is also a regular at Hillsdale. Linda was joined a family friend, Julia Ruby, who helped with spring planting and is now a freshman at Oberlin College. Last month, sisters Meg and Cate joined us as WOOFERs.

After hearing her mother refer to "the sisters" several times, daughter Caroline asked if we were working with a convent. Meg and Cate Critcos are familial sisters. Meg's dog, Lucy, with a fair portion of pit bull in her, has taught our portly and bandy-legged little dictator, Tito, a few well deserved lessons in manners. More recently, Fridays have been enriched by China Tresemer and Bill Bains. We appreciate the help and, most importantly, the excellent company our friends have provided.

Kale, Collards and Swiss Chard

Like Jack Kerouac (left), chard is a rootless beet. They are the same species, beets and chards, that is. We have worked hard to find a true Swiss Chard with big, white ribs. Unfortunately, this form of the vegetable has slipped into obscurity, replaced by the leaf type chards. We still prefer the type with big stems, and have found a good variety from the Italian seed house Franchi. The white stems on these chards are sweet and tender. The leaf blade is fine for soup, but is incidental to the stem. The stem makes a wonderful gratin, either alone or in combination with potatoes. Alternatively, they are cooked until tender and then added to an olive oil and anchovy-based sauce with thyme, fennel seed, capers and perhaps some garlic. The French also pickle the stems.

And don't neglect the kale. Several years ago, we sat in a presentation where a researcher was talking about the antioxidant qualities of blueberries, blackcaps and blackberries. The tables caught our attention because Chester rated highest among the blackberries. As he summarized the results, he noted that the study illustrated the impressive benefits of eating dark-pigmented berries, adding quietly, "So long as no one compared them to kale." Kale is off the charts in its antioxidant qualities, vitamins, minerals and everything else you might dream of. Of course, there is no kale commission to promote the greens and tout their manifold health benefits. Another example of what Michael Pollan coined "the silence of the yam."

Rutabagas

This is a special white-rooted variety of incomparable flavor and fine texture (top photo). Suspend any judgement you may have made about rutabagas.

For us, this was an accidental discovery. We bought a small package of seed labeled Gilfeather Turnip and promptly forgot to plant it. At the last moment, we sprinkled it at the end of the row because, if no roots formed, the turnip greens would be good. No turnips resulted and we forgot about the it.

Late in February, we noticed some odd-looking kale with a bulbous root. We cooked up the roots and they were absolutely delicious. Suddenly it dawned on us that the turnip was actually a white rutabaga, hence the unrecognized foliage. Eager to grow more, we opened the Fedco catalogue and under the variety it was noted that the seed crop had failed. Fortunately, we had not eaten all of the roots, so we immediately worked the remains of the patch, keeping the big roots and roguing out runts.

The next step was to eliminate any cabbages, turnips or kales growing in our fields. Pollinated by native bees, the various brassicas cross freely, and we needed to keep the seed pure. Fortunately we have good isolation in this valley. We harvested about a half pound of seed. Our first foray into rutabaga seed production proved a success as the plants grew true to type. Enjoy.

Staying Warm in Winter

Winter is coming, as evidenced by the recent plummeting temperatures and lashing rains. Contributor Jim Dixon of RealGoodFood is fighting back with hearty soups made from grains and root veggies, and he shares a recipe here. You can find him and a wide selection of imported grains, beans, Katz vinegars and Italian olive oils on Mondays from 5 till 7 at Activspace, 833 SE Main #111 in the inner courtyard (and cash or checks only, please).

The weekend’s storm definitely felt like winter, and I made a big pot of soup to keep warm. You could cook the beans and farro in the soup, but it will take longer.

Farro and Bean Soup with Kale, Squash, and Celery Root

Soak a cup or more of Bluebird Grain Farms farro overnight, then simmer in salted water for about an hour. Cook a cup or more of Haricot Farms red beans (I combine the beans, unsoaked, with water, salt, and olive oil in a clay bean pot, then bake at about 200° until done, usually a few hours).

Start by making an Italian-style sofrito. Cook a chopped onion in extra virgin olive oil for a few minutes, then add chopped celery and cook a bit longer, then carrots and cook a little more. Add a little salt and water (several cups or more) and bring to a gentle boil.

Peel and cube a celery root, add to pot. Ditto a smallish butternut squash (or half a bigger one). Chiffonade a bunch of cavalo nero (aka lacinato kale) by cutting the leaves into thin strips. Add to pot. Chop half a head of green cabbage, into the pot as well. Add more water to cover, if necessary, and simmer gently for an hour or so.

Add the cooked farro and beans, check the salt and add more if needed. Stir in a cup or so of polenta (Ayers Creek is the best. They'll be back at the Hillsdale Farmers Market on Sunday, Nov. 15. Check the website to find out what they'll be bringing.). Simmer for another 30 minutes or longer.

Serve with grated Parmigiano Reggiano.

Greens Salad

It's like seeing your child in a suit and tie. All of a sudden he's not your little boy any more, but a young (and quite handsome) young man. Even though he's had a beard since high school and is taller than his dad (who, at 6'4", presented quite a challenge), somehow I was never able to completely rid my brain of the picture of him as a kid.

What does that have to do with the lacinato kale pictured above? The first time I made this kale salad, it gave me a whole new vision of what green salad could be. Heartier than a lettuce salad, not like the sautéed greens I've come to crave this past year, it's something new.

The recipe's from my neighbor Susana, whose Asian Chicken Wings have been the hit of so many appetizer spreads. Thoroughly mixing the greens with the olive oil, lemon and salt ahead of time and letting them naturally wilt (called a "quick cure") still leaves the kale with a toothsome texture and somehow sweetens the flavor. This would be great with any barbecued meat, from chicken to pork, and could be livened up with chopped egg, toasted pine nuts or bacon bits.

Kale Salad

1 bunch kale
2-3 Tbsp. olive oil
Juice of 1 lemon
1/4-1/2 tsp. salt, to taste
Fresh-ground pepper to taste

With knife, remove center veins from kale. Stack several leaves together and slice into 1/2" strips and do the same with the rest of the leaves. Place in large salad bowl, add oil, lemon juice and salt. Using your hands, work the oil mixture into the leaves for at least a minute, then let sit on the counter for at least 20 minutes to cure. Adjust seasoning to taste and add any additional ingredients just before serving.

Memorial

Food has always been about memories for me, tastes and smells conjuring associations with people and places. I'll never forget my grandmother's rhubarb sauce, tart and sweet all at once, the stalks cooked down into a pink puree she served in a milky-green glass bowl. And making tuna casserole always reminds me of Friday nights growing up when my mother would make a big batch of it and stand back while my brothers and I dove in, arguing over the crusty brown bits around the edges.
The following is from local salt maven Jim Dixon of Real Good Food, whose stepson Daniel passed away recently from cancer. You can read about this young man's remarkable life here.

Dan loved to eat, and he especially loved soul food. I cooked a lot of greens for him, not the traditional collards with pork, but the Tuscan soul food called cavalo nero (black cabbage, aka Lacinato kale).

Cavalo Nero

Wash a bunch of cavalo nero, but leave some water clinging to the leaves. Cut in chiffonade by rolling a few leaves into a tight bundle, then slicing thinly across the stem. I find this eliminates the need to cut out the stem, but go ahead if you feel so inclined.

Coarsely chop an onion and sauté in a healthy splash of good olive oil for a few minutes. Be sure to toss in a generous pinch of salt, too. Add the greens, cover, and simmer for at least 25 minutes, adding more water if necessary. The cooked greens should be very tender. Serve on a platter and drizzle a little more oil over it at the table.

Remembrances can be made in Daniel's name to DeLiver a Cure, an organization researching cures for fibrolamellar hepatocellular carcinoma.