Tortilla dough

A few friends came over for dinner last night and we made Mexican food. Before they came I threw butter into flour, then added salt and warm water to make tortillas.

Funny thing... dough... the feel of dough in my hands, it's comforting. Reminds me of helping my mother make homemade bread when we were children. It's the comfort food that starts comforting before it goes into your mouth.

Watch sheep herders make cheese, cool clip:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PjChYD-qX5A&mode=related&search=

Carlos Petrini talks at a Slow Food picnic:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n4OdaExHSEk

(get past the first part and watch this, it's inspiring!)

Quotes by Carlos Petrini, founder of slow food movement:

"Gastrinomes who are not agronomists are idiots; agronomists who are not gastronomes are stupid"

"It's not enough for food to be good, it has to be good, clean and just."

"Many intellectuals think that ideas are only of the mind, but they come of coure also from the senses, and senses make the mind function. And somebody who is not paying attention to their senses is impoverished... We are people who live by our senses."

"Cursed is he who doesn't realize that the act of eating is an act of love."

Mad for Abalone!





















Okay, it's been a little crazy around here for 3 days. It started the day I arrived here in Northern Cal just in time to accompany my brother, his wife and his brother-in-law and all their families to the Pacific coast- to Ft Bragg on their quest for the rock sucking, crusty, barnacle-backed abalone.

To bag this rare beast, one must wear a protective suit to keep your blood from gelling in the frigid Pacific. (Here is a photo of the fearless abalone hunters Dan my bro's brother-in-law and Jim- my bro.)



One must wear a weight belt (to help you descend low enough) and carry a flat utinsel that helps you knock the little guys off of the rocks. So there is some trickiness, a little danger and some grit involved in the whole sport.
This might satiate my brother's yearly lust for that dangerous-excursion-culminating-in-killing activity. And it would also give my sister-in-law that taste of the fear-of-husband-killing-himself-while-on-dangerous-excursion-culminating-in-killing. Our father was a hunter that would bring home a mega-pound elk every fall (one year it was 800 pounds.) So what was some measly abalone flesh in comparison?

Tales of the dangers of abalone hunting abounded before we left. Men diving 30 feet into the kidney-numbing pacific ocean battling gigantic bulbous kelp that have ensnared less-prepared abalone hunters. And the story about the guy who got his head eaten off by a great white shark last year while hunting for abalone in this same locale. How fun!!

Jim and Dan both got 3 abalones each. Jim likes to say that his were 8 and 3/4th while Dan's were 7 inches. Like it matters how big they were.. then again, a few inches is a big deal to men isn't it.

I wanted to find an abalone myself, but was less than enthusiastic about wearing the weights while wielding that blunt object under the ocean. And was deterred by the $100 out-of-state fishing license too. So I opted to hunt for abalone shells (they are so pretty.) Besides, look at this critter!!



I saw sea anenomes as big as a wagon wheel- really- giant star-fish and was caught like a pickle in a washing machine-like swishing of briney water, enormous slimy sea onions (kelp) and dancing sea grass, which altogether made the whole experience a little disorienting. Jim (my brother) had to point out a few shells and encourage me to relax while bobbing next to a kelp covered outcropping. I was freezing and was afraid I'd run out of breath before I reached the abalone shell. After I got my shell, we flippered back to shore. I was feeling quiet frozen and said to Jim numbly, "I'm feeling a little hypodermic," scaring myself a bit because "hypodermic" came out rather than "hypothermic," a clear sign that I was already under the spell of the cold.

Needless to say, we made it back to shore victorious. I with my pretty shell and a borrowed unmarred (thankfully) $500 wet suit. My only calamity was a razor-like gash from sharp barnacles on the fleshy part of my palm. It's healing nicely though.

Onto dinner.

Here's Jim scooping out the thing:






YUM!!



Here's what they look like when scooped out. They clean up nice!



That night as I tried to sleep, I heard Jim pounding away (like a character out of an Egdar Allen Poe story) at the thin strips of abalone meat he had cut off the monster mollusk. It was a little maddening trying to sleep to that pounding. . . bang, bang bang with the meat tenderizer. Best case scenario when eating an abalone is to cook it when it's still alive. After it's been soaking in a Costco cooler in the back of a van for a day, the abalone gets a little solidified.

During Jim's evening tenderizing ritual, the doorbell rang and in came Dan, Jim's brother-in-law who had come with us abalone diving. He had a bowl of pasta noodles and aldredo sauce and guess what? Strips of abalone. I tried a few, which tasted faintly like chicken, but really and less flavorful than even a boca burger. But it wasn't bad. The night after, Jim fried up fat sections fish-n-chips style and they were great!

Forgot to mention, sometimes you can find a pearl in the abalone if you palipatate their gonads after capture. No pearl in these abalones, but Jim did find a batman toy, (look to left of abalone.) How cool is that!






Jim cranked up the deep fryer and used the recipee below for all of you who want to try this at home.



Cut into strips

Dredge in cornmeal, flour, salt and pepper and garlic powder

Dip in a beer batter (beer, cornstarch, pepper, flour and egg.)

Dip in panko (Japanese) bread crumbs

Deep fly until crispy brown :)

Dip final crispy mollusk strips into chipotle sauce:

Chipotle sauce for dipping:

Recipee for 2 fat cloves of garlic, 1 cup mayo, 1/4 cup dijon, 2 T of diced chipotle chili, 1/2 teas. adobo seasoning (Mexican seasoning) 1 tablespoon of white wine

Here's the "Abalone Disco," compliments of my nephew Andrew Skoy.

SLOW FOOD, MAINE-STYLE

Getting a little sentimental with a clam in this photo! This beach was loaded with giant clams, an unlikely event since we arrived after the record storm that closed ports. Thus, lots of molusks escaped the fishing vessels and landed joyfully on the beach. Seeing their advent, I sought to know the secrets of the ocean from the clam itself.

John and I just returned from Maine, seemingly, one of the capitals of Slow Food. The idea of slow food feels new to Utah, but in the East, they seem to speak this language more natively. They've been speaking it longer, that's for sure. The economy in Maine is made up almost entirely of cottage industries which are more sustainable than our industrial way of life out West. It's such a "literal" breath of fresh air. What is it about the West that seems to encourage new, unchecked and out-of-control growth? (St. George in southern Utah is the fastest growing city in the United States.) Though it's harder to get a great paying job in Maine than in Utah, look at the quality of life there. No grotesquely-large homes build with gaudy Greecian pillars on the hill of a small agricultural community. And the big box stores were mostly contained in "mall" neighborhoods. Or in Freeport, which I loved, all the big box stores are housed within old historic structures, or build to resemble them. Even the McDonald's was not allowed to hoist their fiberglass golden arch into the sky.
Looks like it's housed in some old home. In Freeport, everything seems to fit, to belong there.



More about Freeport from Boston Globe travel guide: (Incidentally, John and I were snapped by the photographer and it looks like made the travel guide!)http://www.explorenewengland.com/travel?photo_gallery=maine/galleries/freeport/&pg=9


Obviously fresh lobster, crab, mussels, clams and and other yummy molusks served at local restaurants are all taken from the sea within a short distance from neighboring harbors. From the fisherman right to your plate! Maine lobster is the best. Somehow, eating right from the harbor gives you a sense of place hard to experience when eating in the west. Restaurants here serve food from all over, it seems, so eaters perhaps get a little jet lagged after partaking. Just a thought. Really though, it does elevate the experience when you know you are eating locally-- besides the food tastes better. This lobster roll from Gilbert's in Portland was to die for.



Another great place, in Freeport, is the rustic tavern at Haraseeket Inn. I ate from their buffet: local fish and chips, mussels, hand-cranked pasta dishes, roasted farm veges and fresh berries or rhubard baked up in pies. On the back of their menu was a list of all the farmers and markets where they get their food. Another feel-good dinner.
Look at this Website and note:
Chilled Maine Lobsters from Potts Harbor with dandelion aioli;Organic Greens from New Leaf Farm

http://www.harraseeketinn.com/site/MothersDay07.shtml

And another place I loved, was a market in Belfast. A huge bulk-food section; buckets of cashew and peanut butter. The guy at the cheese counter pointed out all the local cheeses; spigots flowing with Maine maple syrup and lots of fresh produce and cottage-made treats wrapped in plastic and bearing a crafty label telling you where in Maine the treat came from. Loved it!


Belfast Coop's mission: "Fresh Produce from potatoes to artichokes free of agricultural chemicals. . . Competitively priced organic produce awaits your selection from local vegetables and fruits to exotic fruits from around the globe. . . A priority to support local organic and natural farmers. We have in season a large selection of fruits and vegtables. We have free-range and organic poultry products, organically raised beef products and our own hand crafted sausages from naturally raised animals. Seafood products either come from local distributors or from the fisherman directly."

January 12- slow food night

Short post, but this was really a slow food night. We made crepes with fresh eggs from down the road and goat's milk (I don't think anyone knew I used goat's milk), chicken and chilis in a creme sauce, yogurt, and for dessert, sweet crepes filled with fresh berries and topped with melted dark chocolate or powered sugar. It was pretty simple, but we made dozens of crepes. I even had to borrow a few eggs from the neighbors because people demanded, "more, we want more!" Not really, no one was demanding. The crepes induced a merriness that reminded me of Christmas. Everyone ended up singing afterwards while we passed around the guitar.

Christmas tea.. I'm trying to get the gang together for tea and cookies, at the least, this month, since It's Christmas. But we have yet to get our schedules to align.

So December's slow food night, might have to happen spontaneously. If anyone gets hungry this month, just call and we'll throw something together.

Love
Jen

The vices of eating alone

Why a dinner group? Thing is, I don't like eating alone. I think it's criminal. I love to share food. I was one of those kids who wanted to make cookies for all the kids in my elementary school. I wanted to feed the school. I practically did because I have 5 siblings. As a kid I was excited to come home from school and take over the kitchen with my creative and choatic cooking. I think part of feeding others is this: to cook is to create-- and to share what you've cooked is like making others happy with what you've created. It's pretty simple.

I also like the process of cooperating to create things. You know, put the onions and butter in a pan, add fresh tomatoes, garlic, basil, taste. . . add sugar, salt, think of what else you need. Then in walks a friend with some oregano and fresh olives from the market. She's also got an idea of what it needs, and sure enough, she was right.



Why