Jim Dixon

Thanks....it may be awhile. We are headed east in May for a college graduation (one of our boys at Vassar), but we can only stay a few days because we have to get back for a couple of high school commencements (the two youngest...out of four in our blended family). But by next fall, all of the guys will (hopefully) be out of the house, so we should have more time to travel. But the description of your cooking made me hungry, so one of these days... Jim

if you invite me to your next dinner party, I'll bring it myself

As to whether king or sockeye head up the Copper to spawn first (and so appear in the market), I think there's more at work than just species. All anadromous fish (born in fresh, live in salt, return to fresh to breed and die) try to return to the same place they were born. The earliest run (run here means a species that spawns at a certain time, like Spring Chinook) in any given river system is the one that has the farthest to travel. The first salmon marketed under the Copper River banner were Kings, but I can't really remember what comes in first these days. I know that the Bristol Bay season is late May-mid June, but that doesn't mean anything for the separate sockeye run up the Copper. To add to the confusion, Alaska controls its fishery very tightly, at least when it comes to setting dates for catching the fish. The want to ensure enough escapement up river to sustain the run. So one may head up river ahead of the other, but it's season comes later. Any fish biologists out there to provide some better answers? and to col klink....when I was growing up about the only fish I would eat was smoked salmon, and whether it was made by my dad, one of his fishing pals, or a smokehouse on the dock where we would trade our fresh fish for smoked, it was always the hot-smoked, well-done variety. I remember my first encounter with lox, which someone had described as smoked salmon, and being shocked that it was nearly raw. That well-done, almost jerky-like northwest smoked salmon goes back to the early days of the unfortunately named 'squaw candy,' the strips of salmon that the northwest tribes would hang in the sun (and smoke) to dry for weeks so they'd keep. My mother grew up in The Dalles and her father would take her down to Celilo (the great falls of the Columbia, now drowned behind a dam) so he could pick up fish, get his deer hides tanned into buckskin, and hang out. She didn't realize how lucky she was at the time, but would complain about the smell of the drying fish and clouds of flies that it attracted. ps...we used a brown sugar and salt brine

Girl Chow...actually, sockeye (aka red) salmon has more fat than any other salmonid species, but you're right about the kings (chinook) from Copper River being loaded up. It's the preparation for the long swim to the spawning redd that makes these fish so rich, altho' the same occurs in other runs that make a similar journey. They just don't have the name or marketing push (and 'Copper River' seems to really go well with 'salmon,' evoking a whole range of sensory images). We never used to get sockeye in the markets until the Copper River thing started back in the early 1980s. About twice as many sockeye as chinook come out of the fishery, and once the Copper River brand became established, the demand for any orange-fleshed fish from the Alaskan drainage took off. Before that most of the sockeye went to Japan. I had friends fishing Bristol Bay (a sockeye fishery) who would bring me fish every year, and I really got to like the rich flavor. The smaller filets (typically not much bigger than 2-3 lbs for a whole filet) also fit on the Weber perfectly, and sockeye makes the best smoked salmon, too. A local fish monger called Briney Sea sells Copper River soackeye (and king, and occasionally white king, but it doesn't come from the river) at the Portland Farmers Market, and I trade them olive oil for filets so I can stock the freezer during the short run. Last summer I combined the salmon with a filbert romesco, a nice paring of two northwest foods. Sockeye with filbert romesco Jim

I'm a fan of Campari and soda, especially in those little cone-shaped bottles of premixed C & S you can buy in Italy. My problem out here in oregon is finding the stuff. We have the most repressive liquor laws (I think only Washington has higher prices...but here only state-licensed liquor stores can sell spirits, beer and wine in regular grocery stores, but neither seem to carry Campari regularly). Jim

I've worked at many jobs outside where I had to bring lunch if I wanted to eat (no delis near clear cuts), and over time I developed an appreciation of the subtle differences between what I had eaten the night before hot and what I was eating the next day. And the temp varied depending on the weather, so it was very often cold and other times room temp to warmish. I found that most dishes seemed to taste better when not hot. Of course some of that may be from the experience of eating outdoors, where food always seems to taste better, although many of these kinds of meals were consumed in conditions you wouold not choose for a picnic. A few hours of planting trees or pounding nails also does wonders for the appetite. There may also be another element at work, the "marrying of flavors" that occurs over time. But I still enjoy eating leftovers that have not been reheated, spooning bites out of my trusty screw-top plastic containers (carry a tub of margarine backpacking just once and you will ever after only use containers with secure lids). Jim

The Portland Grand Central empire is run by a couple of Ms. Bassetti's children, Ben & Piper, and they have the full lineup of breads as well as other goodies. Piper spent several months developing a croissant that's now available. My daily GC item is the inappropriately named panini, which came from an old Italian recipe called pane di treno. This train bread is a yeast dough roll with raisins and fennel seeds, and I altered my bike route to work after the NE store opened so I could stop by and pick one up every morning. We are quite spoiled here in Portland when it comes to bread. Besides Grand Central, we have the Pearl Bakery and newcomer Ken's Artisan Bakery, both making slow-proofed and incredibly good bread.

Whew... As I mentioned to stellabella, I'm wasting more time than usual here today, so I've been visiting boards I typically pass up. I'll have to come here more often. I've just started Eating in America by Waverly Root (and some other guy whose name I don't recall), and from the first few chapters it looks like he blames America's bad taste on the English colonists. Seems the Pilgrims and the Virginia colonists either didn't know how to grow, gather, or hunt for food or were too busy growing cash crops like tobacco. I can't speak to the whole English food history thing, but I think the primary reason so much of what we eat here in the USA sucks is that we put so much faith in the corporate state. The crap that Americans eat is incredibly profitable, and if something is making money, it must be a good thing. Jim

You can find geoduck all through Puget Sound, too. I ate some great fried cutlets at a roadside tavern south of Quilcene (on the Olympic Peninsula near Hood Canal). The one time I tried to catch one I ended up laying on my belly in the low-tide muck with my arm buried up to the shoulder as I tried to hang on. The geoduck got away. Jim

my wife grew up in mt lakes, and when we watch the sopranos she's constantly pointing out various spots that she recognizes. it was a special thrill when the young kid got whacked in boonton. Tony's mom's place actually looks just like the house where her mom grew up in east caldwell. Jim ps...her folks finally moved to florida last year, so we don't get back as much as we used to...about as often as I get to this board

Boiled meat sounds awful and usually doesn't look all that great, but it can taste good. In Trieste there are cafes called buffets that serve boiled pork products (tongue, shoulders, cotechino, etc) that are incredibly good. They're all boiled in the same pot, and the counterman forks out a chunk of whatever you want, slices some off, and serves it with kraut and mustard. I also thought the idea of the boiled tenderloin was intriguing, but I doubt I'd spend that much just to try it. I actually like the cheaper cuts more anyway. Jim

I really hate it when reviewers write: "The dish worked..." or some variant. I avoid "savory" although I've probably used it before, and I had to toss out my favorite bit of alliteration (describing oysters as "briny bivalves") after my neighbor pointed out that I'd used it in two separate mini-reviews appearing in the same restaurant guide last year. And this from a post on Chowhound (and I didn't copy the posters name, so I can't give him credit, but it's worth going over and looking for...in General, I think): -Strike all adjectives from your copy, then restore only the ones you absolutely need. -Begin a list of banned verbs: Nestled. Spiked. Perched (when used with "atop"). Add to the list with examples from critics you hate. And like anybody who writes about food, I'm guilty of evoking Proust. Here's my most recent offense, which may not have been as bad as some of my earlier ones (thankfully forgotten): Food's power to evoke memories is undisputed. Nearly everyone eats something occasionally that brings to mind their grandmother's kitchen, the first time they planted a garden, or a particularly disastrous date. But the flip side of Proust's madeleine is the recollection of food itself. I may not remember the kids I played with in grade school or much about family vacations to Arizona, but I can remember what I ate. Jim

I've also brined big turkeys in a cooler with a bag of ice (kept n the bag to minimize brine dilution) tossed on top. Another method is sealing the brine and brinee in an oven bag (or big heavy-duty ziplock) and putting that on ice in the cooler. Jim

I like that idea of bourbon in the brine. But back to roasted chickens.... Pasta & Co, the take-out place on Quenn Anne (haven’t been for a couple of years, but guess it’s still there) made a great roasted chicken rubbed with herbs. It inspired my standard approach. I mix dried oregano, marjoram, sage, & thyme (sometimes I add the smoked Spanish paprika called pimenton) with coarse salt, black pepper, garlic, and olive oil into a paste, then stuff it under the breast and thigh skin. I also rub it on the outside. I like my chicken to fall apart, so I roast it pretty hot for an hour or so. Or I cook on the weber over indirect heat. I start breast down and turn after about 20 minutes. Lots of nice crispy skin, and the herb rub permeates the flesh. Next time, col klink’s brine.... Jim

Adam, Thanks for the link to those notes. Reading them triggered memories, and I know that after reading about panelle and le vucciria I made a special effort to seek them out. In Cefalu we found a small bakery that made panelle panini, and I went back almost every day for the soft roll filled with several layers of the thin chick pea frittter. In le vucciria, Palermo's old market that Robb describes as having been completely altered since his first visit, we wandered around but kept coming back to the food sections. I had a sandwuch in the meat stalls that was incredible. The vendor had a crude wok-like pan (maybe an old hubcap) set on a propane burner at an angle. He'd pour a bit of olive into it, slide some thin slices of beef into the oil, cook for a few seconds, then squeeze half a lemon over it before sliding into a roll. We had several interesting conversations with Sicilians about the mafia. It's still a force but not nearly so obvious as in the 1980s, altho' caravans of carabinieri screaming through Palermo were a common sight. We went to Trapani to see the high-end shops frequented by the mafia wives that Robb described, and in a trattoria there watched a very large man be treated deferentially by the owner and speculated about his connections. But we always felt safe in Sicily, and it’s probably our favorite place in Italy. We’re planning to go back next spring. Jim

Retro and comfort seem to be relative...those of us here who grew up in the '50s and '60s think it was our parents who first cooked with canned soups, spam and all of those other convenience foods we associate with childhood. But my 1931 Joy of Cooking is loaded with canned soup recipes. There's a great book about American eating (Revolution at the Table: The Transformation of the American Diet, by Harvey A. Levenstein, Oxford, 1988) that describes the various phases we ate through as society moved from the farm to the city. Freedom from spending all day over a hot stove (fired by wood or coal that had to be split or carried, and the water usually had be to hauled in as well) was a big deal, and a can of Campbells soup could save a couple of hours. I once made green bean casserole from scratch, too. The occasion was my first seder (I'm just a country goy), and the host was an old friend who was also my editor. One of the guests was the paper's restaurant reviewer, so I wanted to do it right. I was also surprised that the same thing I had eaten almost every Thanksgiving and Christmas of my life was considered an integral part of this Jewish celebration. Anyway, I used fresh beans with a mushroom-sherry sauce. Still used the Durkee canned onions (and I still them call them that even though French's name has been on the label for years). Everybody hated it. The wanted the comfort food they had grown up with. I still make it on Thanksgiving, pretty much as Rachel described (but the water chestnuts are out...must be an east coast thing), including no extra milk. And our (almost) grown boys love it. Jim

Adam, I read Midnight in Sicily just before a trip there a couple of years ago. Found it great, but didn't remember the food (in the book I mean...I definitely remember the food in Siciy itself) so much. I'm going to re-read it. As to the home vs restaurant topic, I'll take home any night as long I get to cook. My wife thinks I'm nuts because I'll often spend more time preparing a meal when I'm home alone than if I'm feeding the family. I just like the whole process, from assessing what's on hand and how I can make it taste good to the actual prep and cooking. When I'm feeding the whole family, someone is always asking, "When's dinner?" or wishing I was making something else. I've often said the best meals are the ones you eat at home, but I've also been wrong many times. I'm lucky enough to get paid to eat in restaurants, so I do get to eat at a lot of them, and maybe that makes me a little jaded. I know I can't take the time to prepare stocks and do all of the other things a good restaurant kitchen can. But I think my preference for home has more to do with some of the non-food aspects of eating already mentioned. Mamster...did you ever read Trillin's old New Yorker piece about deep-frying turkeys? It has some great lines about burns. Don't know if it's online or not. Jim

We don't have those little donuts they sell at Pike Place Mkt....

Helena, That Gourmet piece was actually about Portland, not Seattle (neener, neener, neener to our neighbor to the north). Both places offer much the same seasonal foods, altho’ Seattle is more cosmopolitan, but the Seattle-ites advice will pretty much translate to Portland. The Portland Farmers Market opens in April, and it’s the best place to get local produce and wild mushrooms. Depending on the weather, morels should start to appear in late May or early June. I agree with the other posters that the fall mushrooms are better, and they actually start to show up in mid-summer (July rain will cause boletus to pop in the mountains). Local strawberries are also a May-June crop, and raspberries start in June-July. Blueberries are typically available up to mid-August or so. There are several incredibly good restaurants here and a lot of others that are better than most. Guliano Bugialli called Genoa “the best Italian restaurant in the US.” (full disclosure: Genoa buys Don Alfonso olive oil from me) You can also spend a day or two in the wine country south of Portland (and for about $800 there’s the 3-day International Pinot Noir Festival, but they hold a lottery to see who gets tickets). Both places are great food towns, and most of us can agree that we eat better here than almost anywhere else inthe country. But no matter what time of year you come, bring your umbrella. Jim

A masonry supply store will have a large stirring rod used to mix various types of mud, but you'll need at least a half-inch drill to drive it and a five-gallon bucket for a mixing bowl. My very first piece of published food writing was about using a propane torch (in my case, a GAZ BLUET unit meant for waxing cross country skiis) to roast peppers. And those microplane graters came out of the wood shop, too. I love my Bosch cordless drill/driver, but haven't actually used it for cooking. I have an older Cuisinart stick blender, and about the only thing I use it for is whipping cream or taking any lumps out of the Thanksgiving gravy...sometimes I'll make salad dressing. The biggest problem I see with using a drill, assuming it's got the usual pistol grip, is the ergonomics of holding it up over the mixing bowl and pulling the trigger. Jim

Portland is a great beer town, and our best beers probably don't travel too far. Most of this winter I've been drinking Bridgeport's malty and dark seasonal ale, Ebenezer. In the summer I switch to their award-winning IPA, loaded with hops and the first thing I want when I climb off my bike after work. But our very best is brewed by the tiny Hair]http://www.hairofthedog.com/beers.html]Hair of the Dog. Fred Eckardt called it the best brewery in the country, but they named a beer after him so he's probably a bit biased. Jim

Julie, You can also search all of the WW reviews online at the food finder. Just today I ate my first Cheap Eats 2002 review meal (J&M Cafe, good basic breakfast, will go back for lunch). The issue (a guide to low-cost restaurants) will be in the paper sometime in March, I think. It's a good resource, but it requires an army of free-lancers and staff writers and the level of the writers' food experience and preference varies dramatically. Jim

re the slicing issue... The last batch I made (a couple of nights back) consisted of two smallish heads of cauliflower. I actually slice them a bit thinner than the quarter-inch I mentioned earlier, maybe about 3/16, but probably not smaller than 1/8 (and of course I didn't actually measure the #### things, just sliced them thinly). Sometimes there are larger, fan-like slices from the center that include a bit of the central stalk and florets from both sides. Often I'll break these up, but usually they break on their own when I'm stirring (usually 2-3 times during the course of roasting). My reason for slicing rather than breaking up into florets is simply speed. It's pretty easy to trim off the leaves, cut the stem even with the bottom of the head, set it on the cutting board, and whack away. Since I cook everything at our house, and I start getting the "when's dinner" refrain by 6:30, speed is always a consideration for me. I rarely have leftovers, but Judith is in Florida with her folks so I only ate half of this batch. The next night I tossed the rest with rigatoni (long pasta might've worked better, but these were at hand), lightly sauteed garlic, grated bottarga (dried tuna roe, but a few anchovies would provide a similar taste), chopped salted capers (didn't bother to soak with all of that pasta), bread crumbs, and a healthy drizzle of olive oil. Jim

As I understand it, 'broasting' is the process of deep-frying under pressure. I think it's actually a registered trademark for the company that makes the broasters themselves. Most of the time, what's being broasted is chicken, and I think the process was actually developed so that restaurants could make fried chicken quickly. When I was a kid, it was common to see Broasted Chicken Served Here signs, and they all looked the same, so I'm guessing that Broaster Inc provided them.

I don't own one (vacuum sealed stopper, that is), so I can't say. Again, I don't think such measures are necessary with olive oil. Wine, maybe, but I prefer to drink it quickly. My first father-in-law, a Bay area radiologist who loved wine and showed me what the good stuff tasted like, would pour the remnants of his good reds into a plastic bottle (like you'd carry water in while backpacking) and squeeze out as much as air as he could. It's the same idea as the vacuum stopper. Jim