I'm cruising south on 97 on the way to the party store to buy a pinata for my son's 7th birthday party when I notice that little donut shack has undergone a bit of a face lift. Gone are the candy cane striped poles, huge "DONUTS" sign and pink paint. Instead thin, horizontal, hard wood siding covers most of the outside walls and an artsy sign reads "bread". I swerve through two lanes, park on the corner and get out to investigate. The smell of yeast and freshly baked bread persevers over the smell of gas and deisel. The window is full of crusty pain rustica, baguettes, walnut loaves and croissants. I peer into the little slide up window and there is Micah from Sparrow bakery. I should have know - tiny old kitchen, clean cool aesthetics, and fabulous baked goods could only mean Sparrow Baking.
I started with a baguette as they actually looked like the baguettes I'v had in France. Warm from the oven, thin and chewy, this was truly a traditional baguette.
La Voy Baking is Sparrow's bread making facility. No, they do not sell donuts, but due to high demand they are considering something a little bit more refined like beignets. I'm so excited to have another place to buy bread - when I'm not making it I want what I buy to be something I aspire to, and La Voy's bread does just that.

So much has happened since I feel into the abyss of my MAT program. Yes, I went back to school to get my Masters in Teaching. It is an eccelerated secondary program and I will have my degree and teaching certificate in hand by the beginning of June. I love the teaching and the program is great but it allows little time for anything else, so my locavore tendencies have been put on the back burner and posting has become a thing of the past.
I am excited though about Lone Pine Coffee Company. Since I have not been writing about food any more (and have had my head down in a book for the last 6 months) I am totally out of the loop. Things are coming and going and I am not aware of it.

Lone Pine Coffee opened in Tin Pan Alley right around the corner from Thump about 9 months ago. It serves excellently prepared coffee drinks (embellished with the obligatory foam art) from their house roasted coffee, Village Baker Cookies and best of all Sparrow baked goods. That included the Sparrows new bread facility's, La Voy Baking, baguettes. They make French style sandwiches on the baguettes with Nieman's meats and fresh provolone cheese. Simple, clean and tasty. There is free wi-fi, a selection of teas and single bite chocolates for $.25. Thump and BellaTazza move over - there's another hot spot in the hood.

Finding it in CyberSpace

Sometimes finding local food is easier said than done. Going to locally owned Nature's and getting 5 lbs of organic flour is no guarantee that the wheat used is locally grown or even US grown. Roadside produce stands, which I used to assume was locally grown produce, many times are enterprising produce sellers who buy their fruits and veggies from the same distributors as Safeway.
Looking carefully at labels reveals that many things that I originally assumed were local products are not. They may be processed, bottled or inspected locally but they are produced elsewhere. Or the company may be local but the product was trucked up from Brazil. I have a hard time heading to the store on a quest for a certain item and finding that either there is no local option or that the labels are so oblique that there's no telling where the food is actually produced.
As much as I love Trader Joe's it is almost impossible to figure out where the product was actually produced. Everything says "Monrovia, CA" because that's where TJs headquarters is located. Everything is packaged, processed and shipped from there. When I contacted TJ's about where their hazelnuts were grown (I figured since 90% of hazelnuts in the US are from Oregon this would be a no-brainer) they emailed me a vague message about their commitment to local food producers and that they try to use as much locally produced product as possible. That didn't really help me much. What does help me are the products that are named for the area from which they come. All the meats, fish and poultry are origin marked and whether they were farmed sustainably. Much of the cheese and yogurt has place origin as well as the fruits and veggies.
Still your best bet is growing it yourself, supporting a local farmer and getting good a preservation for the long famers-marketless winters we Central Oregonians endure. For a little inspiration and some good reading I have listed my favorite websites that I peruse regularly.

http://www.foodalliance.org/
http://www.coic.org/cd/agriculture.html (local workshops on cultivating and supporting local food source)
http://www.findthefarmer.com/
http://www.eatwild.com/
http://www.oregonfarmersmarkets.org/directory.html
http://www.fooddemocracynow.org/
http://www.localharvest.org
http://www.tuttifoodie.com
http://extension.oregonstate.edu/ (classes on canning and smoking and tips on gardening)
http://www.thegreenspot.org/Enviro-FAQs/Landscaping_and_Gardening/
http://coldzonegardening.com/

MY Top Ten (or Twelve)

Ever since I moved on from writing my weekly food column in the Source, people have asked me if I would give them a COMPLETELY honest list of the best restaurants in Central Oregon. The inclusions are not surprising since I was always apt to gush. The exclusions are what I consider the honest part. Here are restaurants that I will always recommend even if they don't hit the mark every time. Breakfast, lunch or dinner; fine dining and grab and go - these are the establishments I couldn't live without even if I only visit them on special occasions . This list is dynamic and will fluctuate as restaurants open and close. Stay tuned for the Worst restaurants in Bend....

12. McKay Cottage
11. Baldy's BBQ
10. Long Board Louis'
9. Kokanee Grill
8. 28 (bread pudding pictured)
7. Pizza Mondo
6. Hola (chefs pictured)
5. Sumi's Japanese Restaurant
4. Zydeco
3. Chow
2. Jen's Garden
1. Sparrow Bakery (Ocean Rolls pictured)

Most Missed: Bistro Corlise
Second Most Missed: Deep

The Coup

There is a subtle revolution going on in my home and I am the instigator. Local this, sustainable that - it has seeped into the way we live, look and feel.

Take my back yard for instance.

Right about this time of year, I would have been cleaning up the winter debris, weeding the paths and tidying the herb gardens - dreaming about warm dinners on the deck and how much aesthetic pleasure my back yard can bring me.

This year aesthetics have been chucked out for practicality. Three more raised beds for vegetables went in on the grass and a chicken coop is being built under my son's fort. I am working on a water collection system that will mean large plastic barrels where my patio furniture used to be. My compost piles have grown to three permanent containers and there is all manner of garden and building supplies stacked here, there and everywhere. Throw in the laundry line I have extending almost the full length of the yard, and I wonder where my sense of "environment" has gone.

Although some of my friends aren't really sure if I've grown a hippy bone or just gotten lazy, I think my sense of environment is just as keen - it is just very different. Manicured lawns and perfect flower beds are luxurious and greatly appreciated at other people homes - at my house I want the environment to feel substantial, sustaining and vital. I can dry my clothes, feed my family and conserve resources in my backyard, even if it does look a bit Beverly Hill Billies. Maybe stirring up a big, stinky batch of home made soap is the next backyard project I should take on.....

Pig Glorious Pig

My pig has arrived! Kathy (my farmer with the mostest) called as she saw the tail end of my porker right before the traveling slaughter house boys had their way with it. Did I tell you, she has the slaughters come to her rather than take the animals to the slaughter house? There is a physical reason for this - no stress, no endorphins that can toughen the meat. But she always says she does it because she doesn't want her animals last minutes on earth to be in fear. They are rooting around in their pasture one minute and the next they are out cold and ready for the butcher paper. 

Anyway, I had told Kathy that I wanted the hooves (trotters for those Anglos out there), ears, cheeks and intestines (why pay for sausage casing when my pig comes with it?). She informed me that, unfortunately, it was impossible as the slaughter/butcher will not butcher head, feet or any offal. 

So where does that leave me and my unlikely pig parts? 

Playing phone tag with Kathy hoping she hasn't tossed my pigs head, bowels and feet into the gut trench or what ever  receptacle she uses for the stuff nobody (but me) wants. If I do indeed get my cranium, cloven hooves and small intestines, I will have to clean and butcher them myself. I'll keep you posted....

Offal Farewell

Bistro Corlise served up some of the most innovative, well-structured and passionate meals in Central Oregon. French to it's core with out any pomp, Chef Jason Logan's bistro was dedicated to stretching palates, debunking his diners assumed dislikes, and enthusiastically reaching the edges of the food world.

As he so often did, Jason would host special dinners on Sunday nights. Usually they were wine pairing dinners, an area in which he is immensely gifted and sommeiler trained, but sometimes they would have food themes. This February my dear friends Casey, Steph and Tom treated to me to Jason's swan song - a head to trotters all pig dinner. This fest of pork had 15 courses and at least as many bottles of wine.

The meal was all small plates - tastes of everything from spleen rillettes to blood truffles. Highlights were the ravioli made with blood infused pasta stuffed with poached pork snout; a crystal clear pork consumme; pork belly with a gleaming ruby red root vegetable ragout; a confit of slivered pig heart and sprouted lentils with hazelnut oil; trotters stuffed with mashed potato served on mustard greens; pork cheek with tender carnaroli rice and paper thin slices of air-dried ham; braised tongue and ham hock wrapped in cabbage; and vodka infused with pork done three ways. The last was a lovely mid-meal palate cleanser (if one can cleanse with bacon) that had a tasty squewer of cured pork belly, thick cut bacon and air dried ham resting in the hard spirit that calls to my Russian heritage - top shelf vodka.
As with any gastronomic adventure there are bound to be a few challenging spots only the truly courageous can stomach. One of these spots was the "intestine raffle". A few lucky souls got a dish made with the large intestine, and one of our little group was a winner. Not the small intestine that is used for sausages but the large one that holds the excrement right before it exits Mr. Piggy's behind. It was kind of rolled up and stuffed inside itself so that when you cut into it it looked like a thick casing filled with thick casings. A special wine was served with this dish as Jason explained it is a strong flavor and needed the right balance.
As we each cut off a small bite and passed it on, they same realization came over each of us like a gastronomic wave. At first sensation, it had an interesting but palatable taste and texture. But with further mastication and even with a big gulp of wine, it tasted undeniably like pig shit. Not that I've ever tasted pig shit but if it tastes anything like it smells, then this was closer to tasting it then I ever needed to get. I gulped water and wine and the rest of everyones bacon infused vodka before I could clear my mouth of the vile taste.
There were other dishes that I was indifferent about (the pig liver and the kidneys) but none that rivaled my revulsion like the intestine. In no way, shape or form did this take away from the meal, rather it added to it as this was a meal of experiments, risk and adventure, not of placidly filling my stomach with food I was already sure I liked. I want to like everything, and I pride myself on having a pretty open mind. It takes a lot for me to find a well-prepared dish that I can't eat. Eating for me is like traveling - I may not want to live there, but I'm always glad for the experience.
After ingesting more pig in one sitting then any human should, and with images of gout dancing in my head, we drifted over to the bar to have an aperitif and the last nibbles of our blood infused truffles. Jason was, as always, ready to talk more food, and reveled in describing working with the various pig entrails that made up our meal. That is one of the best parts of Jason's meals - his unquenchable passion for the fabulous food he creates and his endless energy to pass that passion on in both sensations and education.
Bend has lost a truly great dining experience with the closing of Bistro Corlise - Jason you will be missed.

Gardening in a 90 day Growing Zone

The cabbage, brocolli, collard greens and cauliflower are in. Looking cold and dormant, they are patiently waiting for warmth. It's supposed to be 20 degrees tonight so they are tucked into a big tarp covering all the raised beds holding off the blackening freeze. The onions and potatoes are also struggling along, although a little more optimistically then the others. The Walla Wallas actually have new green shoots and the Klamath Creams are working on their root systems. My boxes and pots are ready for the basil, tomatoes and peppers that will be half grown in a green house before they see their new homes. Tomorrow I tackle the rhubarb - five 1 gallon starts anxious for some compost and a place in the sun. Here's to pie!!!

The Birth of the Modern Condem

There is no doubt in my mind where the idea of the modern day condom came from. Some where (probably in France where food, love and birth control have been perfected) a woman was making sausage and thought there was another good use for knotted pig or sheep intestine. 

     Needless to say my day of making sausage was probably the most failic 8 hours I've ever spent without a man in the room. And an arduous 8 hours it was, helped along with a good sense of humor and tasty bottle of zinfandel.

    We set out at about 9:30AM intent on making Sopprasata with defrosted pig shoulder, pork butt and a garbage bag full of fat. 

     I was on fat duty. I picked through little bits, big slabs and grisly looking things with hair attached to find "clean" fat. I wanted fat that was white, thick and had no sinew (which I learned, the hard way, clogs up the grinder). While I cut up the fat, culling all muscle, sinew and any other suspect looking thing, my host Stephanie, cubed up the meat. 

   Lucky for me Stephanie has a big, beautiful, exceptionally well-equipted, professional kitchen in her home and has everything one could ever need to make sausage. We started feeding the meat into the grinder, watching the little tubes of pulverize muscle make it's way out of the holed metal plate, while the little motor whirred. The chopped fat, that had been place in the freezer to firm back up, was mixed with the ground meat, some spices, salt and some Insta-cure (the stuff that makes sure the meat cures without growing anything nasty or deadly) and the whole thing was fed through the grinder again, this time sending the little motor into a high pitched hum and warm temperatures. 

All this time, the seemingly miles of pig intestine, were soaking in luke warm water. The hog casing is packed in salt water for storage and by soaking it, not only is the salt washed away but the casings are softened up a bit for the next rather delicate and difficult stage in this sausage making extravaganza.

     Steph pulled out her "stuffer" - a metal contraption with a crank down top and a stiff tube coming out of the bottom - and started packing it with the ground mass. We then very carefully threaded the hog casing on the the erect metal tube (yes, this is the point at which it starts getting falic). This took us enough time to each drink a full glass of wine since ALL of the casing had to be pushed on the tube in order to make linked sausages.

     With a knot securely tied in the end of the casing, I start to crank. The casing immediately fills up with air and looks just like a blown up condom. Steph runs to get a pin and starts pricking the casing to let the air out.  Then the meat starts coming but it's comes in clumps so as I crank, Steph has to massage it around so it fills the casing without bubbles. In the process of massaging, she tears the casing and hurriedly knots off the torn end as the pressure has built in the stuffer and there's no holding back the oncoming mass of meat. This goes on with both 

of us alternatively pricking, massaging, knotting, twisting, cranking and drinking until the stuffer is empty.

 

   And there they lay - twelve 6-8 inch ready to dry sopprasata sausages. We hung them in Steph's house for 24 hours and then moved them to my basement and hung them in a cotton garment bag for 6 weeks, keeping a bowl of water near by to keep the air moist. By Christmas they were ready and served as noshes at Steph's house and were part of my locavore gift packages at  my house. 

    Now,  on to kielbasa....

   

  

   

HA - I say I'm going to be regularly posting and then I disappear! Such is life.... But I've made a new commitment to post regularly because I am actually starting to miss writing. Now that my newspaper gigs are over and I'm back at school (long story, some other time), I don't get to write about things I am passionate about like food. So any way, here's to gettin' at it again.....

OK - I'm back. In my effort to delete the blog (since I've been too busy/lazy/crazy to keep it up) I got re-enthused about it. 

So..... my eating habits have changed a bit since I no longer write a weekly food column. I never realized how much eating at every restaurant under the sun was influencing my food choices (not to mention my waistline). Now that I am cooking 95% of my meals (opposed to about 75% when I had my column) it is actually easier to get into a routine of baking bread and buying local. 

I have ventured into charcuterie and croissant making and I now can make a mean "rough puff" (a term I find sounds like a part of the female anatomy but for those in the know it is slang for puff pastry). I have also tasted so many  innards of  a pig I have a new appreciation for offal. 

Now if I can get my s*#t together I will tell all in the next couple of weeks......