Farm Bulletin: Appreciation for a Well-Grown Potato

If you love potatoes like I do, you can do no better than to read the following appreciation from contributor Anthony Boutard of Ayers Creek Farm, who apparently wrote a treatise on the spud when he was a mere sprout. As mentioned, he and Carol only grow them for personal use, but they can be obtained for a short time at open farm days, one of which falls this weekend, December 14 and 15, from 2 pm to 5 pm. They are, indeed, worth the drive.

This summer, the Bonnotte made headlines as the world’s most expensive potato, apparently with some selling at auction for roughly $270 per pound. There is no good explanation for this high price other than there are some people with too much money. It is good that they share some of it with farmers. The potatoes are grown on Noirmoutier, a sandy island off the Atlantic coast of France where the farmers enrich their soil with seaweed. The entire crop is sold as new potatoes, before the tubers mature.

Bonnotte potatoes, $275/lb.

The report piqued my attention. My term paper for Biology 104, Plants and Human Affairs, was titled: "Of Things Algal in Nature, A look at the economically important algae of New England and the Maritime Provinces." One section was devoted to the use of seaweed as fodder and fertilizer. The coastal areas of these areas historically used seaweed as a manure; the proper term for a natural material used for the improvement of the land. They carefully gathered the wrack from the beaches and plowed it into the soil. Seaweed is rich in phyto-colloids which help retain moisture and nutrients.

The potato and other members of the nightshade family are heavy feeders and reward their cultivators' attention. You can throw every amendment on a turnip or a radish with slight effect. Lettuce and other greens are meager in their returns. The hungry spud, though, rises to the occasion.

Carol escorting potatoes to the harvest shed.

Seaweeds provide the potatoes with a rich source of iodine, vanadium, iron, boron, copper, cobalt, zinc, molybdenum and manganese. These are trace minerals deficient or wholly absent in our washed-out soils, or the sandy soils of Noirmoutier for that matter. They wash out of the soil and into the ocean. So seaweeds and sea salt are means of closing the mineral loop. Consequently, we have always been generous with seaweed when preparing our potato bed.

The seaweed most commonly used in agriculture is Ascophyllum nodosum. Acadian Sea Plants, Nova Scotia, produces a high quality, easy-to-handle dried kelp meal that we use as a soil amendment. It is relatively expensive, around $90 for a 50-pound bag. Maxi-Crop Kelp Meal is harvested from the Norwegian kelp beds, and is roughly the same price. Maxi-Crop has a soluble form we use in our seedling production. We add 50 to 90 pounds to the potato bed.

The other soil amendment we use for the potatoes is a finely ground, mineral rich rock marketed as Azomite. It is from a deposit in Utah where a volcano erupted into an ocean. Once again, it provides a wide spectrum of the elements. We add about 100 pounds of this ground rock to the bed.

Potage bonne femme.

Are these ministrations worth the effort and money? It depends on how you regard the spud. If it is used as a cheap starchy substrate for cheese sauces, butter or sour cream, or for deep frying, certainly not. The potato’s flavor is not the point of the endeavor. Sort of like the modern varieties of popcorn that are specifically bred to confer no confounding flavor in the kettle mix. If you are preparing a simple potage bonne femme, leek and potato soup, as we did for the staff at Sweet Creek Foods this Tuesday, a fragrant, flavorful potato is essential. The better the potato, the better the soup. A large pot disappeared in short order. As garnishes, we included freshly grated horseradish, ground cayenne and finely minced speck from the Alto Adige.

Anthony titled this one "Desirée."

We don’t grow potatoes commercially; they are for our own table. Just not worth explaining the difference in price for a carefully grown potato. When we have extras, as we do this year, we sell them at the open days. Though it is comforting to know that in France, quelle suprise, they are esteemed enough to grow carefully, and the farmer is rewarded for the effort. We must admit, a tinge of envy, too.

Side of Spring: Potato and Artichoke Heart Gratin

It was to be a spring birthday dinner for a friend featuring those exquisite lamb rib chops often called "lollipops," grilled and properly eaten holding onto the rib end and gnawing the bone to get all the carbonized goodness clinging to it. (If you're a knife-and-fork person, I won't judge you if you don't judge me.)

The mis en place.

In the spirit of the season, I'd volunteered to bring deviled eggs—from Mike and Linda's pasture-raised hens at Terra Farma, which have launched into spring production recently—along with a potato gratin of some sort. I'd considered a leek-and-mushroom version, but a heavy, creamy dish, while delicious and totally appropriate for grilled lamb chops, just didn't seem springy enough.

Ready for the oven.

So I turned to a version I'd concocted based on a recipe by Patricia Wells, renowned author of cookbooks drawn from meals she served at her home in Provence. Hers was a gratin meant to be cooked in the oven under a leg of lamb, the juices from the haunch dripping down into the potatoes as it roasted.

My version eschewed the lamb juices—don't get me wrong, I love this method, which works with roasted chicken, as well—but kept the rest of the ingredients, adding a couple more for a Mediterranean-ish dish that would sing with the lamb chops. Not to mention that it would also be terrific for a simple summer grill with fish or chicken, or a rich vegetarian main dish with a salad alongside.

Potato and Artichoke Heart Gratin

2 lbs. medium-sized Yukon Gold or other yellow potatoes, halved lengthwise and sliced very thin
1 whole head garlic, cloves peeled and smashed but not chopped
1/2-1 c. kalamata olives, pitted
2 14-oz. cans quartered artichoke hearts, drained, or 8 fresh baby artichokes, peeled, cored and quartered (see note)
1 Tbsp. fresh thyme leaves (no stems)
1/2 tsp. fennel pollen
1/3 c. olive oil
2/3 c. dry white wine
2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. fresh ground pepper
2-3 medium tomatoes, sliced thin
1 c. pecorino romano, grated fine
Four bouquet garni: each one should have 4 parsley sprigs, 4 thyme sprigs, 1 rosemary sprig and 2 bay leaves, each tied with kitchen twine

Preheat oven to 400°.

Bring a large pot of water to boil on the stove. Put sliced potatoes in the hot water, and when it returns to a boil cook for no more than 5 minutes. Drain in colander.

In a large mixing bowl, gently combine potatoes, garlic, olives, artichokes, thyme, fennel pollen, olive oil, wine, salt and pepper. Stir to coat the potato slices evenly. Pour into 9” by 13” baking dish.

Nestle the four bouquet garni, spaced evenly crosswise, into the potato mixture. Scatter a layer of tomato slices over the top and sprinkle with the cheese.

Bake for one hour. Remove from oven and gently pull out the bouquet garni, trying not to disturb the tomato slices too much. Serve.

Note: To prepare fresh baby artichokes (step 1 and 2 only).

Eating of the Green(s)

With the vernal equinox upon us, called Nowruz ("new day") in the Persian calendar and considered the first day of spring in the New World, I've been jonesing for fresh, green things—think nettles, fiddleheads and other early foraged greens. Fortunately for me, contributor Jim Dixon of Real Good Food has had exactly the same thoughts, and he shared a recipe I'm going to be putting on our table soon.

While the faux Irish celebration of green beer and corned beef has passed, colcannon should be in regular rotation on your dinner table.

Santo Patricio's Colcannon

This an Italian-Irish version of the Irish classic. You can harvest nettles right now (almost anywhere along any river west of the Cascades, but Sauvie Island is a good place to start) or look for them at the farmers' market.

Cook a couple of sliced leeks in olive oil with a good pinch of salt for a few minutes, then add three peeled yellow potatoes cut into rough cubes about 3/4 inch thick. Cook for about 10 minutes, letting the spuds brown just a bit, then add 1/2 cup heavy cream. Cover, reduce heat and simmer until the potatoes are tender, about 15 minutes.

While the potatoes are cooking, drop a bunch of stinging nettles into boiling water. Pull the greens out with tongs after about 30 seconds (heat neutralizes the chemical sting), drain, let cool, and finely chop about 2 cups. Save the rest (and the nettle broth) for another use, maybe fritters.

When the potatoes are done, stir in the nettles. Season with freshly ground black pepper, and check the salt. Cook for a minute or two, then serve hot drizzled with a little more extra virgin.

Rerun: A Good Woman Makes a Good Soup

I made this soup the other night, and if you looked up "comfort" in the dictionary, it wouldn't show your mom or your teddy bear or your pillow or your fuzzy slippers. It would be a picture of this soup along with the recipe. (BTW, I puréed it this time…what can I say but OMG.) Warm, terrifically flavorful and fill-your-belly delicious, it's easy and perfect for the season. And, though I don't do this often, I'm rerunning the original post I wrote two years ago. Enjoy.

Just before the holidays I was out at Ayers Creek Farm helping Carol and Anthony get ready for the big holiday market at Hillsdale. Well, I say "helping" but it's more like "trying to not seriously f*** things up" while packing boxes of preserves, weighing and measuring beans, polenta and wheat into little bags with a big scoop.

One of the great things about these days at the farm, aside from getting to wear my boots if outside work is required, is sitting down at the table for a big lunch of soup or stew, a hefty loaf of bread and a nice chunk of cheese. On this day, a bit before lunchtime, Carol asked me to pull a big pot out of the fridge that contained braised leeks and potatoes in a white-ish liquid.

While that warmed on the stove, Carol and I went just outside to the kitchen garden to gather a few leaves of sorrel that hadn't yet gone dormant. (Note to self: plant this next year!) It was chopped and thrown into the pot, a cup or so of sour cream was stirred in with some salt and we had a classic "Potage Bonne Femme," a potato leek soup rather like vichysoisse only with more leeks than potatoes.

Carol prefers to use water to cook her vegetables rather than chicken stock, feeling that the flavor of the leeks is more pronounced. In my attempts to recreate this at home, I used half chicken stock and half water and it didn't seem to overwhelm the leeks, and also added a little richness. I've made it with both real sour cream and (purists don't choke) Tofutti sour cream—Dave's lactose intolerant, remember—and both were amazing, even according to my very choosy son who's not crazy about substituting tofu products for the real thing.

It's a comforting, rich and company-worthy meal that is super simple to make in an hour or so. Add a crusty loaf of bread and some cheese with an ice-cold glass of French chardonnay alongside and you're going to get raves from your crew.

Potage Bonne Femme (Potato Leek Soup)

3 Tbsp. butter
4 leeks, halved and cut into 1/2" slices, about 4 c.
3 Tbsp. flour
2 c. water
2 c. chicken stock
4 med. Yukon gold potatoes, peeled and chopped into 1/2" or so cubes
2 tsp. salt
1 c. sour cream
1 c. coarsely chopped sorrel (optional)
3 Tbsp. chives, minced (optional)

Melt butter in soup pot or large Dutch oven over medium heat. Add chopped leeks and cook slowly for 5 min. Remove from heat, add flour and stir. Put back on heat and cook, stirring constantly and without browning for a minute. Add water and stock, stirring well. Add potatoes and salt. Bring to boil and lower heat to simmer for 50 minutes. Add sour cream and chives and stir to heat. Adjust salt to taste. Serve, garnished with chopped chives.

Option: Purée with immersion blender before adding the sour cream or cool and purée in a food processor (or blender) in batches. For a vegetarian or vegan version, substitute margarine for the butter and use water or a vegetable stock and Tofutti sour cream. Really, it'll be fantastic.

Scalloped Potatoes à la Patty

Funny how it is with cookbook authors whose work I know and admire—the pages of their books get well-thumbed and splotched, and over time they're like old friends. For instance, I've never met Patricia Wells, but her books on country French cooking have inspired me for years, and continue to do so. I've even toured her house in France a few times, if only in the pages of her books and travel magazines. That pretty much means I know her well enough to call her Patty, right?

In her book Patricia Wells at Home in Provence (one of those with pictures of her farmhouse in France), she shares a recipe for scalloped potatoes with artichokes that doesn't have the usual cream-based sauce, but instead relies on the juices and fat from a leg of lamb roasted atop them to baste the potatoes to perfection. I found another version of the same technique, attributed to Ms. Wells, in Sheila Lukins and Julee Rosso's The New Basics Cookbook, though that recipe substituted onions and tomatoes for the artichokes.

In my version, all I do is drizzle the sliced potatoes and vegetables with some wine and olive oil and it's just as rich and luscious as any creamed version. It makes a terrific side for dinner, with or without the meat roasted on top, and it pairs with chicken, pork, lamb, salmon or just about any other roasted meat you can imagine. Or not, since it's basically all vegetables, thus qualifying it as vegan!

I think Patty would approve, though, to tell the truth, she really seems like more of a "Patricia" sort to me.

Scalloped Potatoes with Leeks, Onions and Olives

1 clove garlic, halved
1 yellow onion, halved lengthwise, quartered and thinly sliced crosswise
3 leeks, white and light green parts only, halved lengthwise and cut in 1/2" slices
1 c. oil-cured olives, pitted and torn in half
4 medium-sized russet potatoes, halved lengthwise, thinly sliced, 4-6 c.
1 Tbsp. oregano
1 c. white wine
1/3 c. olive oil
Salt

Preheat oven to 350°.

Rub the inside of 9" by 12" baking dish with the cut sides of the garlic clove. Discard garlic. Add half the potatoes, spreading them evenly across the bottom of the dish. Add half the sliced onions, then half the leeks in even layers. Scatter half the olives and oregano over the top. Salt lightly. Repeat with the rest of the potatoes, onions, leeks, olives and oregano to make a second layer. Salt lightly. Drizzle the top with the wine and olive oil. Bake for 45 min. to 1 hour until top is browned and potatoes are tender. Serve.

Potatoes with a Northwest Flavor

I have to begin this post with a disclaimer: My husband, though he's lived here for several decades and now considers himself an Oregonian, descends from a long line of New England potato farmers, famous for growing varieties with names like Kennebec, Katahdin and Green Mountain. Growing up, the children of his small town in Maine were let out of school for a period in the fall to help with the potato harvest. He is quick to tell of the time that his right arm was pulled into the potato harvester when his sleeve caught in it, and of the child whose arm had to be amputated in the field in a similar incident.

This history also means that he considers any potatoes grown elsewhere as inferior, pooh-poohing them as being "grown in sand" rather than in the rich soil of his native land. Though I think he would cede some props to the Ozette potato, a variety that was brought to the Northwest by Spanish explorers more than two centuries ago.

Originally picked up by the Spaniards in South America, the potatoes came on ships sent to establish beachheads on the west coast of America. One fort was built on the northwestern tip of what is now Washington state, where the Pacific meets mouth of the Straits of Juan de Fuca. Apparently the settlement didn't work out for the Spanish, and they left after only one year.

The native people of the area, members of the Makah tribe, found the potatoes in the overgrown gardens of the settlement and propagated them, naming this new food after one of the five villages in the area of Neah Bay. Because of the relative isolation of the region, these small, flavorful fingerlings maintained their unique heritage and weren't known to the outside world until the 1980s.

The Ozette potato was cataloged and seed was grown outside the region, and in 2005 it was added to the Slow Food Ark of Taste. In 2006 a partnership called a Presidium was formed to promote the potato and encourage farmers and individuals to grow it. Recently the Herbfarm in Washington offered seed to Northwest gardeners, and my neighbor Susana, co-owner of Portland's Culinary Workshop, volunteered to grow them in in the workshop's large vegetable garden.

If you're interested in growing this native potato yourself, check out the links above for information on where to get your own seed. I'll keep you posted as Susana's grow!

A Good Woman Makes A Good Soup

Just before the holidays I was out at Ayers Creek Farm helping Carol and Anthony get ready for the big holiday market at Hillsdale. Well, I say "helping" but it's more like "trying to not seriously f*** things up" while packing boxes of preserves, weighing and measuring beans, polenta and wheat into little bags with a big scoop.

One of the great things about these days at the farm, aside from getting to wear my boots if outside work is required, is sitting down at the table for a big lunch of soup or stew, a hefty loaf of bread and a nice chunk of cheese. On this day, a bit before lunchtime, Carol asked me to pull a big pot out of the fridge that contained braised leeks and potatoes in a white-ish liquid.

While that warmed on the stove, Carol and I went just outside to the kitchen garden to gather a few leaves of sorrel that hadn't yet gone dormant. (Note to self: plant this next year!) It was chopped and thrown into the pot, a cup or so of sour cream was stirred in with some salt and we had a classic "Potage Bonne Femme," a potato leek soup rather like vichysoisse only with more leeks than potatoes.

Carol prefers to use water to cook her vegetables rather than chicken stock, feeling that the flavor of the leeks is more pronounced. In my attempts to recreate this at home, I used half chicken stock and half water and it didn't seem to overwhelm the leeks, and also added a little richness. I've made it with both real sour cream and (purists don't choke) Tofutti sour cream—Dave's lactose intolerant, remember—and both were amazing, even according to my very choosy son who's not crazy about substituting tofu products for the real thing.

It's a comforting, rich and company-worthy meal that is super simple to make in an hour or so. Add a crusty loaf of bread and some cheese with an ice-cold glass of French chardonnay alongside and you're going to get raves from your crew.

Potage Bonne Femme (Potato Leek Soup)

3 Tbsp. butter
4 leeks, halved and cut into 1/2" slices, about 4 c.
3 Tbsp. flour
2 c. water
2 c. chicken stock
4 med. Yukon gold potatoes, peeled and chopped into 1/2" or so cubes
2 tsp. salt
1 c. sour cream
1 c. coarsely chopped sorrel (optional)
3 Tbsp. chives, minced (optional)

Melt butter in soup pot or large Dutch oven over medium heat. Add chopped leeks and cook slowly for 5 min. Remove from heat, add flour and stir. Put back on heat and cook, stirring constantly and without browning for a minute. Add remaining water and stock, stirring well. Add potatoes and salt. Bring to boil and lower heat to simmer for 50 minutes. Add sour cream and chives and stir to heat. Adjust salt to taste. Serve, garnished with chopped chives.

Option: Purée with immersion blender before adding the sour cream or cool and purée in a food processor (or blender) in batches. For a vegetarian or vegan version, substitute margarine for the butter and use water or a vegetable stock and Tofutti sour cream. Really, it'll be fantastic.

Creamy Goodness

There's nothing much more satisfying than a piping hot bowl of soup and a warm slice of fresh bread on a cold winter night. And that's just what I was in the mood for last night as the temperature outside plunged below freezing and I added another layer of clothing to my ensemble.

Not to go off topic, but when my brother gave me an immersion blender for Christmas many years ago, I thought, "Oh, great…another kitchen tool that's going to molder on a back shelf for years until it gets sent off with all the other junk we don't need."

I couldn't have been more wrong, since it's become my go-to appliance for all manner of puréed sauces and soups. Which is where we rejoin the theme established in the first paragraph. (Ha!) Noticing that I had leeks, potatoes and cauliflower all ready to be put to use, I decided to attempt a decadently comforting concoction, something kind of like a smooth chowder.

Roasting the cauliflower didn't add much more effort or time to the process, since it roasted in about the time it took to get the other ingredients prepped and simmering. Then it was just a matter of getting the creaminess I was looking for, which came when I added the sour cream (Tofutti sour cream, in our case, due to Dave's lactose issue). With the aforementioned warm loaf of bread and a green salad with vinaigrette to complement the comfort, we were some happy winter denizens!

Creamy Potato, Leek and Roasted Cauliflower Soup

1 medium head cauliflower, cored and divided into small florets
4 Tbsp. olive oil, divided
1/4 tsp. salt
1 medium onion, chopped fine
2 cloves garlic, chopped fine
2 leeks (white and light green parts only), halved lengthwise and sliced crosswise into 1/2"pieces
2 medium russet potatoes, peeled or unpeeled, cut in 1/2" cubes
1/4 tsp. dried thyme
8 c. chicken stock
1/2 c. sour cream, optional
1/4 tsp. white pepper
Salt to taste

Preheat oven to 375°.

Place cauliflower florets in large bowl and add 2 tablespoons olive oil and 1/4 teaspoon salt. Stir to combine. Put in Pyrex baking dish in single layer and place in oven. Roast for 40 minutes or until fork easily pierces thickest parts.

While cauliflower is roasting, heat remaining 2 tablespoons of oil over medium heat in soup pot or Dutch oven. Add onion and garlic and sauté till tender. Add leeks and sauté till wilted. Add potatoes and sauté for about 10 minutes, then add thyme and stir to combine. Add chicken stock and bring to a simmer. When cauliflower is tender, add to pot and simmer another 20 minutes or so. Add sour cream, if desired, and white pepper. Using immersion blender, purée until smooth, then adjust salt to taste. Serve immediately or keep warm on the stove on lowest setting, stirring frequently to prevent scorching.

Farm Bulletin: Roots and Tubers

Much as I try to avoid publishing gossip and innuendo, in this essay contributor Anthony Boutard of Ayers Creek Farm makes a convincing case for a heretofore unacknowledged familial connection. Please try not to be too shocked.

Books on food take pains to point out that the potato (Solanum tuberosum) and the sweet potato (Ipomea batatas) are not closely related. In a true/false test, the books are correct. The potato belongs to the large, economically important family that includes tobacco, tomatoes, eggplants and peppers, and many important medicinal plants. The sweet potato is a member of the morning glory family, and is the only food plant in a family better known for its weedy and toxic members, a belle among ne'er-do-wells and brigands. Moreover, the potato is a tuber that develops from the stem, whereas the sweet potato's tuber is a root. But the lack of a relationship is a dull thought, a conversational dead end. Certainly, there are something that links them if, at least since the time of Gerarde's Herbal (1597), both have been called potatoes.

The winter roots and tubers on our market table, and prepared for our holiday feasts, deserve a closer look. They evolved within two separate traditions of agriculture that arose independently about the same time, roughly 7,000 to 10,000 years ago. The American and Eurasian foods are very different from one another in a way that reflects the differences in how agriculture developed on the two land masses.

The Eurasian roots on our table evolved from temperate biennial plants—plants that produce vegetative growth during the growing season of the first year, and in the early spring of the following year produce a flowering stalk for seed production. The root stores the energy and minerals needed for flower and seed production, nothing more. When the seeds mature and disperse, the original plant is dead. All of these plants are perpetuated by seed alone and, because they cross pollinate, each generation has a new combination of genes.

These biennials, also called winter annuals, are clustered in four economically important plant families. The beets belong to the Amaranthaceae; radishes, turnips (right) and swedes belong to the Brassicaceae; carrots, parsley root, celeriac and parsnips belong to the Apiaceae; and gobo, salsify and chicory belong to the Asteraceae. In fact, other biennials from these four families account for most of the Eurasian vegetables familiar to us, including lettuce, spinach, chard, cabbage, broccoli, cauliflower, celery, escarole, fennel and endive.     

In marked contrast, the American cultivated "roots" are perennial tuberous plants, mostly originating in the tropics, and they are scattered hither and yon among various plant families. The tubers allow the plant to enter complete dormancy during dry or cold periods, and resume growth when conditions are favorable. Although they will produce seed, cultivators perpetuate the variety by replanting the tubers, called clonal reproduction, and each generation is substantially identical to the previous ones.

The sweet potato (left) originated in the lowland tropics of Central America, where there is a dry season. The Andean potato, or the spud, evolved in the region around Cuzco, Peru, at approximately 11,000 feet in elevation, but still within the tropics, an area also marked by a dry season when the plants go dormant. Oca, Oxalis tuberosa (Oxalidaceae),  ulluco, Ullucus tubrosus (Basellaceae), yacón, Smallanthus sonchifolius (Asteraceae) and ysaño, Tropaeolum tubrosum (Tropaeolaceae) are four other perennial tubers of local commercial importance originating in the Andes. Alan Kapuler of Peace Seeds in Corvallis has done a fair amount of work promoting oca for the Pacific Northwest.

The cultivated perennial tuber that has its origin outside of the Tropics of Cancer and Capricorn is Helianthus tuberosus, the Jerusalem artichoke, a member of the Asteraeae. This is the one American tuber that grew in New England at the time of the Mayflower's arrival and most certainly graced the table of the ship's survivors, yet it is unlikely to find its way onto Thanksgiving menus today. The name is probably a corruption of Terneuzen, the Dutch port where vegetables from the fertile lowlands were shipped to England. (Why can't the English teach their children how to speak…)

So what do we make of these two clusters, the temperate biennials of Eurasian lands concentrated in four families, and the American perennials originating mostly between the tropics and all belonging to different families? 

Eurasian agriculture developed simultaneously with iron and draft animals. These were essential for the plowing necessary for the preparation and maintenance of a seed bed, originally to plant small grains such as barley and wheat. Annual cultivation was conducive to the growth of small-seeded biennials, first as volunteers and then as cultivated crops. For the most part, plowing works against the growth of perennial plants.

In contrast, pre-Columbian American agriculture employed neither iron implements nor draft animals. This agriculture was swidden-based. During the dry season, fire is used to open areas for cultivation (left), and these patches are maintained for a few years until the fertility released by the burning is depleted. The land is allowed to revegetate with woody perennials and the cultivator moves on to a new patch. The shrubs and vines that recolonize the untended swidden bring up a fresh load of minerals from the deep within the ground. Often the first plants to grow in the opening are nitrogen fixing legumes, further restoring fertility to the ground. The land is not abandoned. The cultivators return to forage for quelites [edible greens] and, after a few more years, to reclaim the lands again for cultivation. The cycle is on the order of three to four years of cultivation followed by ten years of rest. Within this form of agriculture, perennial tubers survived the dry season burning and sprouted with the return of the rain. Just as the Eurasian biennials, initially volunteers, were eventually domesticated in the plowed fields, a similar pattern followed with the American perennial tubers in the swiddens.

Despite the attempts of aid agencies and modern agronomists to eliminate shifting cultivation or swidden agriculture, it persists in many places, including Central America, Asia, Africa and parts of Northern Japan. Although traditional agronomists cast swidden agriculture as wasteful and polluting, the modern farm field spews forth far more pollutants, albeit invisible, than the farmers tending their milpa in Oaxaca or yakihata in the mountains of Japan. Their external combustion methods consume but a few years of accumulated wood, while our internal combustion engines and synthetic fertilizers have burned through whole geologic epochs. And the plant remains we burn in fossil fuels return no minerals and nutrients to the land.

The roots of winter provide the wonderful illustration of how agricultural practices lend shape to our foods. And when someone tells you the sweet potato and the Andean potato are not related, you will know that the story has a more interesting wrinkle rarely discussed in general conversation.

Photo of burning milpa from Dr. Darlene Applegate of Western Kentucky University.

The "L" Word: Leftovers…Again?

Once again I pulled out the "L" word for dinner. As in "leftovers." And why, you might well ask, does a dinner made from leftovers deserve a post rather than some fabulous new food item used in some unusual way that I ran across on an arcane food blog?

Because leftovers are, I suspect, highly under-discussed as a means of feeding ourselves. I mean, how creative can anyone be if they have to put dinner on the table seven nights a week? The expense alone would kill a regular budget, not to mention a normal spirit. Plus, I don't know about you, but there are always bits of this and pieces of that floating around in plastic tubs in our fridge.

Like the other night. Dave had come home from work, I had nothing in mind for dinner and I couldn't really justify spending the bucks to go out since we'd already done that a few nights before. In other words, it was a pretty typical evening.

So, like on other evenings, I strapped on my pith helmet and opened the door of the fridge. Hmmm. A stack of heirloom tomatoes slices left from a platter I'd served guests. A large russet potato that had not been used in a potato salad. Some luscious grilled leg of lamb that wasn't enough for dinner by itself.

A picture was forming in my mind, but I couldn't quite bring it into focus. I opened the veg bin and pawed through its contents. Then I remembered two bags of fenugreek greens I'd bought from Ayers Creek the week before that may, just may, still be usable. (Does any of this sound familiar?)

An onion, some chopped garlic and a tablespoon of curry brought it all together into what I have to say was a pretty fine dinner. Considering I had no idea where I was going when I started.

Frittering Is Good!

I love contributor Jim Dixon's recipes because they're easy, seasonal and oh-so-tasty. He's also a fiend for fritters, the best part being they don't need to be deep-fried! Look for his RealGoodFood booth most Saturdays at the Portland Farmers' Market at PSU filled with his incredible olive oils, vinegars, beans and grains.

I must be slipping. I haven’t included a recipe for fritters for weeks (although the pork balls from earlier are really just meat fritters). I still cook and eat some version of these little fried things (called “subrich” in Piemontese dialect and based on a recipe from Faith Willinger’s Italian vegetable cookbook) at least once weekly. Here are a couple I’ve made recently.

Dandelion Green and Herb Fritters

Drop a bunch of dandelion greens into well-salted boiling water, cook for about 2 minutes, then remove, cool and squeeze out as much water as you can. Chop into small pieces.

Mix with about a cup, maybe more, of fresh herbs. I used what I’ve got in my garden: sage, oregano, rosemary and sorrel. Mint would be good, too. Add a finely chopped spring onion (I have these in the garden; shallot, garlic or plain onion work, about a couple of tablespoons total). Grated Parmigiano Reggiano is good, but not absolutely necessary. Add a little salt.

Mix in a couple of eggs and about a cup of breadcrumbs. The mixture can be a little wet, but should hold together enough to form walnut-sized lumps using two tablespoons. Slide the lumps into reasonably hot olive oil (enough to cover the bottom of your skillet, and they should sizzle a bit). Use the spoon to gently flatten the fritters, let cook undisturbed for a few minutes, then turn. You want them nicely browned. Sprinkle with flor de sal and eat immediately.

Sardine and Potato Fritters

Combine a tin of good sardines (I used olive oil-packed) with a couple of potatoes that you’ve cooked, peeled, and crumbled into a bowl. I used yellow spuds, poked and microwaved for about 4 minutes each. Mix in a couple of cloves of finely chopped garlic and, if you’ve got them, some salt-packed capers that you’ve soaked and rinsed.

Follow the directions above for adding eggs and breadcrumbs; cook the same way, too.

Here's a recipe for Jim's squash fritters. Top photo from CookThink.com.

Farm Bulletin: Better Late than Never

Our correspondent Anthony Boutard of Ayers Creek Farm is back with his weekly bulletins, and GSNW is happy to post his musings once again. To get them fresh in your in-box, simply e-mail Anthony directly. Or check in here for the skinny on what's happening in the natural world. You can find Anthony and Carol live in the flesh every Sunday at the Hillsdale Farmers' Market from 10 am to 2 pm.

This has been a very peculiar season by any measure. Almost every crop in the field is 10 days to two weeks late. Our frikeh production, which normally occurs around the 18th of June, will start on Monday. Because of heavy weed pressure, the harvest will be a salvage operation, with a sharp production decrease for this year. We will have to collect the heads using small sickles once used to harvest rice in the Orient. There will be few gage plums, but a good crop of prune plums. The Chester blackberries will have an excellent crop, albeit late. The flowers are just opening on the grapes, and they should produce well this year. Most of our squash fall into the past tense...squashed. The pampered melons are doing well.

Despite the languid pace of the season, and what season it is we are not quite sure, it has been very busy. Feeling subdued and disconcerted. Funny, as we plant more and more stuff, the works piles up on us.

Our offerings this week will be sparse. Here is what we should have:

Fenugreek Greens
Fenugreek is a low growing legume. The seeds (left) are used as a seasoning. The greens (photo, above) are used in Indian and Persian dishes (see Khoresht-e Ghormeh Sabzi for example). Pleasantly bitter and very fragrant, they can be mixed with other greens such as spinach, or used to season potatoes or lamb.

New Potatoes
New potatoes are harvested while they are still growing, the tuberous equivalent of fresh shell beans. The potatoes have yet to form their permanent skin, a process initiated by the green part of the plant. They are perishable, and should be refrigerated. Size is not a good diagnostic as you can have very large new potatoes, as well as dinky ones. They also require careful cooking, no rolling boils. They make a good potato salad. They can also be sauteed or roasted, and dressed with chopped wilted fenugreek, as in the Indian dish aloo methi. Good hot weather sustenance.

Quelites (kay-lee-tays)

A Mexican term, equivalent to the Italian verdura trovata (encountered greens) and Greek horta, refers to a mixture of noncultivated edible plants that grow in the fields and on roadsides. Quelites include lamb's quarters (fat hen) and pigweed (amaranth), and are very nutritious. The names "fat hen" and "pigweed" are not the least bit derogatory, rather they refer to the tendency laying hens and nursing sows to seek out these calcium rich greens. In the mix will be some Quinoa, Orach and Polish Amaranth. Cook and use as you would spinach.

Man Meets Griddle

One of the best parts of our kitchen remodel was replacing our really cool but uninsulated and underpowered vintage 1920s stove with a brand new Jenn-Air downdraft model with big funky handles and plenty of BTUs. It also came with an interchangeable burner/grill/griddle cartridge system that Dave has fallen head-over-heels in love with.

And, since he's the one who does the big breakfast production numbers around here, he particularly digs the non-stick griddle for doing batches of pancakes, bacon and fried eggs. But to my mind the best thing he does is hash browns made with grated potatoes and onions, garlic and a nice sprinkling of Spanish smoked paprika. With some of those fried eggs and bacon and a little salsa, this has got to be one of my favorite big breakfasts ever.

Dave's Hash Browns

2 Tbsp. butter or margarine
4 potatoes, grated
1 med. yellow onion, grated
4 cloves garlic, minced
2-3 tsp. smoked paprika
Salt and pepper to taste

Melt butter on griddle or in cast iron frying pan. Mix potatoes, onions and garlic together and place on griddle, spreading them out no thicker than 1/2". Sprinkle with paprika, salt and pepper. Turn as they brown and keep turning until they're cooked through. Adjust seasonings and serve.