Fantastic Forage

Oh, the things we found during my foraging workshop this weekend! If you read yesterday's post, you'll have learned a little bit more about the farm hosting the event. Now you get to learn what's out there.

Our teacher, and author of the blog and book Fat of the Land, Langdon Cook, came in holding a basket of fiddlehead ferns on his arm that he found on the drive in. I pictured him spotting them from his moving car and skidding to a stop in a dramatic stunt move, a la Dukes of Hazzard.

We passed the plate around as we made introductions. I sampled one, but whoops, there's time for that later. These little beauties are best when cooked! But enough of that- it was time to head out and get down to business to make sure we had lunch.

Our first edible find was oxalis, or sour grass, part of the clover family. This is great as a garnish to salad, with a lemony kick. It can be overpowering, so a small dose is fine.

Kevin Feinstein also joined us, author of The Bay Area Forager and the blog Feral Kevin. He and Langdon were a wealth of wisdom and complimented each other well with their information. Kevin's expertise on foraging in the area made him an indispensable addition to our group.

Here, he points out nasturtium flowers and wild radish seed pods that crunch like pickled green beans when you pick the right one. Is it bad that I wanted to deep fry them in beer batter? I kept that suggestion under wraps. I was with a pretty healthy bunch.

Here is a weed with small yellow flowers used to make a tea similar to chamomile. Can anyone identify it? As usual, I forgot the name. We weren't going to use it in our cooking, but I grabbed some to take home.

A couple things before I get too much farther. As I mentioned in my previous post, foraging should only be done on pristine land, that is, not by the side of the road, near telephone lines, near a building that has had lead paint at any time, or at farms using pesticides and fertilizers.

In this case, we went to a farm that has been organic for 40 years and most of the picking was on upslopes to avoid runoff. The nature of the soil is the important thing, not how clean the plant is.

It's also important to be aware of how you are foraging, so try to keep it sustainable by properly collecting plants so they will keep growing back. I needed to hear this, since I overzealously jumped in and started ripping things out by the roots. Luckily, it was early on before I could cause too much damage. Okay, let's keep going.

Through the poison oak and brush lies our lunch. We were mainly after nettles and miner's lettuce. The nettle is the bright green leaf poking out.

Careful, these really hurt, and I wasn't brave enough to go without gloves. Cut down at least a few layers of leaves on the stalk, and only cut the young ones that haven't gone to seed. If you cut them down like so, they will keep growing back. These are packed with nutrition and I was told they "make kale look like junk food." Just don't touch, or your skin will bug you for the rest of the day.

Langdon pointed out the thistle berries starting to pop up. They won't be ready until the summer, but we were advised they are the greatest thing in the world (and get huge at volcano bases in the Northwest where Langdon is from!).

Forget-me-nots, a gentle reminder of my grandmother as her favorite flower.

Kevin taught all of us about the undervalued thistle, which has a delicious celery quality at the root when allowed to grow large enough. Sadly, they are usually attacked by weed fanatics immediately upon sight and don't have the chance to mature to their ideal edible state. The leaves can also be plucked from the stem to eat.

The soil was soft enough to grab two of these babies for lunch. Can you believe that weeds are

Kevin explained the nettle look alike that often grows next to it. Look out for the brown stem, it should be green all the way through or it's not nettle.

This is tough to see, but that middle weed between the cultivated rows (weeds are a great sign of a dignified organic farm) is mallow, the original marshmallow maker.

Are you hungry enough now? Let's head to the kitchen.

But before I forget, if you have any interest in foraging without an expert, it's important to learn the poisonous plants first, especially when it comes to mushrooms. (I'll stick with my buddies to identify for a while!)

The best field guides are Pojar and Mackinnon's Plants of the Pacific Northwest Coast and David Aurora's All That the Rain Promises and More, which also has my vote for the best book cover.

Let's cook!

Marin Organic and Gospel Flat Farm

Food inspiration renewed! This weekend I was fortunate enough to attend a foraging workshop sponsored by Marin Organic. 

The foraging location was around Gospel Flat Farms in Bolinas.

On a wet and torrential Saturday, I was greeted by cheerful vintage farm equipment ...

... and colorful hand-painted signs.

Along the actual farm is the perfect place to forage. Organic farms only, where there aren't pesticides, contaminant, or runoff in the soil.

Love the misty mountains in the background.

Beautiful chard, garlic, and others.

And a crab pot back at the farm stand, just in case.

Let the foraging begin!

Upper West Side

I am spending the next couple days organizing my New York trip, so here are more from my adventures from the other week. The beauty of the city is there will always be uncharted territory. I toodled around the Upper West Side and took the bus a hundred blocks to view the city from the top down.

First stop, Riverside Church.

Barnard campus.

The famous front from Seinfeld.

New York- the Heart of America behind spring blossoms.

Sidewalk sculptures.

Columbus Circle.

Central Park at 59th.

And endless architectural wonder.

Picky Eaters Need Not Apply

If love is a transcending experience, then I’m convinced food is the barometer for it.

I’ve theorized about this subject in the past, but pushed it aside when I stumbled upon dating prospects who lack an interest in food. I almost saw this as a redeeming quality, for perhaps I could be the one to give them a new appreciation. I now realize what a mistake that was.

My last few dating attempts proved this theory and could have spared me a lot of time and heartbreak had I recognized it at the time.

Most recently was Jim, your classic meat and potatoes guy- but way down at the Hamburger Helper and boxed mashed potato end. You all know him- this is the guy who orders chicken parmesan at a nice restaurant and it’s the most exotic thing he’s ever had. He refuses to eat anything green besides Caesar salad, but thinks he’s health conscious by drinking protein shakes and eating egg white omelettes. 

Being with him made me think of the cowboy’s credo from City Slickers, that food should be “hot, brown, and there’s plenty of it.” He cringed when I made him runny yolk scrambled eggs cooked in bacon fat. Even when he couldn’t deny how much more delicious they were than his bland, low cholesterol preference, I could tell he was calculating how many extra miles he’d have to run to make up for the damage.

He also hated dessert. I can’t even get started on this. 

Next was Adrian, who had the palate of a 5-year-old. Though I must give him credit for trying new things, he would squeeze his eyes shut upon tasting the tiniest speck of something unfamiliar as if it was burning his lips. He’d then promptly announce, “I don’t like it.” He hated everything.  

I must take responsibility, for even on the first date, I was forewarned. After singing the praises of cheese due to my Wisconsin upbringing, he paused before flatly responding, “I don’t like cheese.” This alone was worthy of being a deal breaker. As I let the statement fully resonate, he turned to me and reassured me, “But I do love pizza.” I ignored my intuition and forged on, since his snarky puns were priceless and mozzarella cheese is only four bucks a pound.

Danny was the most difficult to pin-point. He loved food and cooking new things, he was open-minded to food adventures and curious about trends and the buzz. For this, my hat goes off to him as he coins himself a “wannabe foodie.” Going out to eat with him was a blast, so long as I discreetly added a few bucks to his tip on our way out, but that’s another story. We never went to the same place twice, he was humble and not afraid to ask questions about the menu, and there was nothing he wouldn’t try. 

For me, the mismatch lay in how he ate. He was someone who would eat a candy bar with a knife and fork. When we cooked together, he would gingerly roll up his sleeves over his delicate corporate wrists and touch food with his fingertips to avoid getting too dirty. He hounded me when I added things to the pot, asking “how much salt was that?” or “is this considered a small dice or a brunoise?” I don’t know, it’s an 8-o’clock-and-we-haven’t-had-dinner-yet chop. He wasn’t amused.

And why did you continue? you ask. I have no excuse. Maybe I didn’t want to discriminate against anti-foodies or be a food snob. Maybe I wanted to be the mentor they needed to break the chain of being a bad eater. Or maybe I was just following my heart when I should have followed my stomach.

Approach love and cooking with reckless abandon, they say. Can you do one recklessly and not the other? If one can’t comfortably rub a chicken in butter or do blind taste tests when I hold out a spoon, how can they possibly love me when I come home from work with flour in my hair and chocolate on the backs of my arms? 

The beauty of love is in spontaneity and the adventure of the unknown. The beauty of food is trying new things, exploring another culture and breaking from pattern and comfort. In a busy world of routine, food can be the most accessible way to make each day different and memorable. What other way could a relationship deepen than with a dose of dining together with a little spontaneity in the menu? For many couples, breaking bread is the only quality time they can get on a daily basis.

So gentlemen, I implore you. Let her eat off your plate. Try what she has when she holds out her fork. Order dessert. Bring home that weird thing you saw at the grocery store. Even if it turns out to be terrible, you will probably have a new inside joke or learn something about your loved one.

Just Jazz

I'll be the first to admit that my alma mater spoiled me with good music. After four years being surrounded by musicians in one of the best jazz programs in the country (at a time when there wasn't even a jazz studies major, per se), you would be, too.

The great thing about being a music dork is that there are always people around giving you the hookup  to the best gigs. So when I was in St. Paul, Mitch's hubby just happened to have a gig at the underground club, Jazz Central Studios in Minneapolis.

This tucked away, basement performance space was created as a co-op for musicians to get together for impromptu jam sessions and collaborating. With a bass, piano, drum set, and a surprise vocalist, this was the perfect venue for an intimate evening of great music.

Though I was literally surrounded by close friends, I am sure anyone there would have felt the same. When musicians have the perfect chemistry, it's only natural for the audience to be drawn into that circle of familiarity.

Like them on Facebook!

At the door, admission is by donation only.

The highlight was hearing Nichola Miller sing a couple torch songs from the deep end of the standard pool- I wish I learned their names, but they were new ones for me.

Her voice= soul, edge, and sass smoothed out with butter. This gal is going places.

As if I needed more incentive to plan my next trip here!