Key West Feasting Adventures

The Key Largo Arby's was our first stop en route to our Key West vacation. Apparently, mustard and relish have been ousted by some villainous condiment coup and replaced with "Arby's" and "Horsey." WTF?

For the record, I'm well aware that I haven't posted anything for quite a long time. My only excuse is that it is summer in Portland, so it just hasn't been an interest of mine to sit in front of a computer for any reason. Sorry.

Anyway, I figure I'll get back on the wagon with some tales of my food adventures on my family's vacation to Key West. First, let's discuss conch fritters. There actually used to be an animal inside of those pink shells everyone has perched on their beach house mantles--a salt water snail, as a matter of fact. Sounds good, right? Sea snails. Yum. Key West is all about the conch fritter, so I went on a quest to find the best one. You really can't open a restaurant on Duval Street and not put conch fritters on your menu, even if you don't know how to make them correctly or care to learn, so most of them are generic and uninteresting. All fritter and virtually no conch to speak of. I mean, come on, if I wanted a hush puppy I would have asked for one. Jesus. Well, you'll be happy to know that I did all of the work for you so now you can bypass all the posers and go straight to this place:

It's appropriately named, the Conch Shop, and it is located at 308 Petronia Street in Key West, near the Hemingway House. As you can see by the hand-painted sign, this is the place for "best conch fritters." They are served the right way: in a paper bag, piping hot, and with a nice remoulade, which I much prefer to any sort of marinara or what have you. I enjoyed actual, visible pieces of conch in every heavenly little dough ball. This place is the real deal. Thank you, Conch Shop. Thank you.

Next, local fish. Go to the Eaton Street Seafood Market for this. The woman there is very pleasant and knowledgeable. When you ask what's fresh, she tries not to laugh at you, which is as it should be. Everything in the case is there because that's what they caught this morning. Love it. I chose a local snapper--a beautiful mild white fish that I thought would probably want to be turned into delicious fish tacos. I was right. I marinated the filets in sour orange, lemon, and lime juices, and fresh garlic. Just did a simple pan fry, let it rest a bit, then flaked it up into a saliva-inducing pile of piscine flesh. I served it with a fresh pineapple and key lime salsa (pineapple, white onion, jalapeño, salt, key lime juice, cilantro), some chopped purple cabbage for crunch, and a squeeze of fresh lime. Oh, and corn tortillas. MUST use corn tortillas for fish tacos. Hot sauce on the table and you're ready to feast.

A quick note about the sour orange: I had been researching Cuban cuisine a while ago, and I read that sour orange is used in many dishes for marinating, dressing salads, etc. As part of my research, I went on an informational outing to Pambiche's Hora del Amigo. Their food is great and it's one of my favorite fun dining establishments. Be sure to check it out. The vaca frita is intensely satisfying. Anyway, I asked the server where they get their sour oranges. She seemed to think I was insane and suggested that it may not be an actual fruit, because they just use orange, lemon and lime juices to create the sour orange vinaigrette. (She did this in a very pleasant way, don't get me wrong.) So, I felt like an ass. Sour oranges...ha...what was I thinking? Well, as I'm perusing the aisles of the Key West Winn Dixie, what do I see in the produce section? That's right, none other than the sour orange. My culinary Atlantis. Eureka! It does exist, and I am not a crazy idiot. Thank God.

And finally: the Story of the Traveling Lamb.
My dad is a special guy, to say the least. Always thinking. He scored some great deal on a leg of lamb back in Pennsylvania before the vacation, but didn't have anyone to cook it for right away, so he froze it. He then realized that it would be the perfect celebratory dish for our first family vacation in years, so he had better bring it to Key West. It's frozen solid, mind you, so he figured that the flight from PA to sunny Florida would be just enough time for it to thaw appropriately by dinnertime in the Keys. So, he packed it in its own suitcase and flew it to Florida. And eat it we did. He made a delicious pan gravy and served it with parsley potatoes, just like Nan used to make. Nice work, Dad.

All of these meals were enjoyed to the timeless beats of Michael Jackson, who passed away during our time in the Keys. Cheers to you, MJ.

*Everyone's diet should probably include more fish, due to the high protein, low fat content of most of the little swimmers. The snapper is no exception. It, like many other fish, is also a good source of omega-3 fatty acids, which help to prevent blood clots and improve the ratio of good cholesterol to bad cholesterol in the body.

Funemployment Feast: Arugula Pizza Blanca and Hood Strawberries with Stratiacella Cream

According to a recent article in the Wall Street Journal, Portland's unemployment rate has more than doubled in the past year, making it significantly higher than the national average. They even refer to P-town as a "drizzly city along the Willamette River." Wow, sounds appealing. So, what's the deal? Why are people inexplicably, uncontrollably drawn to this jobless, sunless doldrums? Why?!?

Because it's the best goddam city in the country, that's why! We're all feeling the pinch here, but one of the reasons that Portland rules is that you can still have a high time livin' the good life here as an unemployed, cafe-hopping, iPod-shuffling twenty-something. And so, this meal is a nod to those of us who won't be dining at Higgins this month, but still want to feel a little fancy...

Here is the complete ingredient list for tonight's dinner:

-pre-made pizza dough
-fresh mozzarella ovoline
-ricotta salata
-organic arugula
-truffle oil*
-sea salt
-Oregon Hood strawberries
-whipping cream
-sugar
-vanilla
-dark chocolate

That includes dinner AND dessert. Not bad.

I tried pizza dough from Pastaworks on Hawthorne for the first time, and like everything else that I've purchased there, it didn't disappoint. For a whopping $1.50, you can try it, too. I also picked up a fresh mozzarella ovoline for $2 and a beautiful little wedge of ricotta salata for $1.50. Oh, and I grabbed enough organic arugula to top the whole pizza. I think I spent about $6 all together.

Plus, it's incredibly easy. Roll out pizza dough and brush with truffle oil. Top with slices of fresh mozzarella and shaved ricotta salata. Sprinkle with sea salt. Bake at 450 F for about 9 minutes, or until the crust is bubbly and brown. Top with arugula right before serving. Et voilà.

Dessert is just as easy. Go to the corner of NE 60th and Halsey and grab a basket of local Hood strawberries from the dude with the stand for just $2. Then pop over to QFC for a half pint of whipping cream for about $1 and a bag of dark chocolate chips for about $3. Clean the berries and just let them sit there and do their thing. Oregon strawberries are amazing like that. They need no embellishment and are nothing like any other strawberry you've ever had. So, pour your whipping cream in a mixing bowl, add about a tbsp or less of sugar and a splash of vanilla, and whip it (good) until soft peaks form. Melt chocolate chips using a double boiler or the microwave. Scoop some of the strawberries into a bowl. Top with a dollop of your homemade whipped cream. Swirl a fork through the melted chocolate and drizzle it back and forth over the cream so it makes pretty streaks. Serve.

So, that was about $6 at Pastaworks, $2 at the strawberry stand, and $4 at QFC. I'm not going to use the sickeningly exhausted mass media hook terms like "recession-buster" or "stimulus package," but please note that that's a pretty damn fabulous meal for a very small price.

Consider this my ode to the unemployed masses of Portland. Only in Stumptown could you start your day sipping locally roasted coffee for a couple bucks while using free WiFi, have a free snack at the New Seasons sample table, catch up on your reading at the Central Library, stop and smell the roses in Ladd's Addition, slam a dollar Pabst tallboy at any number of happy hours, and still afford a gourmet meal like this one. Screw you, economy!

Serve this feast with the Dead's High Time and remember:

Nothing's for certain
It could always go wrong
Come in when it's raining
Go on out when it's gone
We could have us a high time
Living the good life
Well I know.

*Note: the truffle oil will be your one expensive purchase, but a little goes a LONG way so you'll have it forever. Plus, once you taste it, you'll agree that it is totally worth it. Trust me.

As for health, you'll be happy to know that strawberries' unique phenol content makes them a heart-protective fruit, an anti-cancer fruit, and an anti-inflammatory fruit, all rolled into one. Also, though arugula looks like a lettuce of sorts, it is actually a cruciferous vegetable (like broccoli), and is similarly rich in cancer-preventing phytonutrients.

P.S. I've been out of town, so my apologies for the lapse in updates. Vacation post coming soon!

I'm Pissed, Therefore I Cook

Let me explain. I was feeling like hell on a beautiful Friday night and I was pissed about it. Nothing sounded good and my tummy hurt like someone kept kicking me in it repeatedly, so I just laid in bed and watched Food TV until something clicked. And guess what it was? Milkshakes!

So yeah, I made myself a strawberry milkshake with Tillamook Vanilla Bean Ice Cream and strawberries. And milk. And then, since I was still feeling pouty, I decided to go to my happy place and cook, Oregon-style.

I had morels from the market that I let dry out (which I deserve to be kicked in the stomach for), so I reconstituted them in some warm water, then sauteed them with butter and garlic. I also had asparagus from the market, and since mushrooms and asparagus are best friends, I figured I'd go with it. I sliced the asparagus and blanched it, boiled some whole wheat macaroni I found in the pantry, then added the morels, asparagus, and pasta to a large skillet. I added a squeeze of lemon juice and a splash of white wine, then tossed the whole thing with freshly grated Parm and black pepper. I also threw a Thai chile in there because I f-ing wanted to.

I even plated it before I realized that it wasn't enough. I mean, it was enough food, but it wasn't angry enough. It was way too sterile. If angry food isn't deep fried or sweat-through-your-eyes spicy, it better at least have some fat in it. So, I grabbed some half and half from the fridge and reduced it in the skillet with another splash of wine and some pepper. A little more grated Parm and then I retossed everything together. Much better.

(Alright, it took me two tries to make the psuedo-half-assed cream sauce. The first time I completely forgot how to cook and added everything at the wrong time and it broke. Stupid delicate cream.)

Oh, yeah, and I topped the pasta with some toasted filberts. (Those are hazelnuts, you know.) This is my ode-to-Oregon pasta. Local nuts, local veg, local 'shrooms. It's kind of like trail mix, but it's pasta. It's Oregon Trail Mix Pasta. Maybe that's what I should have called this post. No, I think being pissed was more of the theme.

It was kind of good, but honestly, I wasn't really even hungry. My tummy was still feeling kicked in and I was kind of full from the milkshake, which I had first, but I was just in the mood to cook. Because I was pissed. Hence the title.

I planned on hanging out with my milkshake and my angry pasta in the living room while watching a mind-numbing TNT movie, but nothing was on! What the hell? Then, I remembered that my friend gave me a new book to read, so I decided to light some nag and do that instead. It turned out to be a much better idea, so I owe him one.

Serve your Angry Oregon Trail Mix Pasta and milkshakes with anything by Beirut, which I am currently ODing on because it's so bloody good and I can't stop listening to it. I was turned onto this by the same friend who gave me the book, so I guess I owe him two.

*Health Note: calcium is a highly important mineral, especially for women, and studies show that most women only get about half the recommended daily intake. Dairy is an excellent source of calcium because it also contains lactose, which helps the body absorb calcium. Oh, and there is also evidence that calcium helps to reduce PMS. Now we're all happy. Bet you didn't think I could justify the milkshakes and creamy pasta. Ha. In your face.

The Fish that Almost Got Away

OK, I'll admit it. It's just the slightest bit more difficult for me to get inspired about cooking when all the markets are out of season and it's all gray and gloomy outside. My pantry looks more like the boat dealerships around town during the economic crisis than a kitchen in the heart of Food Town. i.e. it's EMPTY. I had my grocery brainstorm written, but after a long day at work, I thought twice out venturing back out. And then it hit me...the freezer! Ah, what a wonderful invention. It magically locks all of that summer and fall goodness in time so I can relive it whenever I feel the urge. OK, so there's some Thai basil, some green beans, some veggie corn dogs...oh yeah, and a veritable mountain of wild-caught albacore tuna.

Brilliant! What better way to invoke the sunshine then to break out the tuna, pulled straight from the Oregon waves by my fearless fishing friends back in July? I spent that sweltering day enjoying the heat wave on my deck, sipping frozen cocktails and soaking up as much Vitamin D as I could stand, but some of my mates were up before the sun and en route to Newport Bay on a single mission: tuna. Needless to say, since my freezer is still mostly overtaken by vacuum-sealed loins of the stuff, they were very successful.

Granted, it's been frozen for a few months now, but I still think you should honor the food you cook, especially when it's literally traveled straight from the ocean to my little stuffed freezer. So, I decided to keep it relatively simple. I found one of the smaller loins (still a honkin' good size) and sliced it into thick medallions, and then for a quick assembly line: flavor, crunch, sear. For flavor, I mixed together some low-sodium soy sauce, a splash of rice wine vinegar (I like the seasoned kind), a shake of sesame oil, ginger, garlic, a blob of local honey, and a healthy dose of Sriracha (that's "Rooster Sauce" to some of you). Half of that went in a little sauce pan on the stove, and the other half stayed on the assembly line. Next on the line was a little plate of Panko, which are Japanese bread crumbs made from bread without crusts. I like these better than regular bread crumbs when you're really going for texture because they are much more coarse and impart and lovely crunch.

So it's as simple as that: tuna in the flavor on both sides, tuna in the crunch on both sides, then tuna in the pan (medium-high, with a bit of oil) and seared for just a couple of minutes on both sides. (Remember, ocean-to-plate tuna does not appreciate being over-cooked.) The sides were just as simple: some whole grain couscous with a bit of salt and lemon zest, and a couple of baby spinach leaves for color and to keep us Popeye-strong. The flavor I mentioned in the little sauce pan was just simmered with a bit of palm sugar to be drizzled over the finished product for an extra punch. Added bonus: it's pretty healthy, too!

Right before we sat down to eat, my boyfriend decided to set the mood by lighting a candle, setting the table, and stabbing himself right through the palm with a kitchen knife. Luckily, he survived and still has two functional hands, but due to this incident I can happily report that this meal is also pretty tasty as a cold entrée.

Viva la freezer!

I Spent Years in a Relationship with Food, But All I Got Was This Blog

It's funny how sometimes the Stream of Consciousness can actually lead somewhere. Mine seems to have landed me in Portland, Oregon.

People always ask me why I up and moved to Portland, pretty much out of the blue, after having spent most of my life bouncing around the right side of the country between Pennsylvania, Kentucky, and Washington, DC.

"Well, the food, of course!"

This is what I tell them, but it's usually not deemed a satisfactory answer, so I have to rephrase it a bit. I moved here because I love the quality of life Portland offers. I love the beauty that surrounds the place--the city, the mountains, the people. I feel right. I "fit." (And I don't fit anywhere.) And for me, Happiness is largely found amidst the stacked rainbow tables of the local farmers market, or swirling through a tulip-lipped carafe of Willakenzie Estate Terres Basses Pinot Noir, or in my own humble kitchen stocked with local bounty.

Portland is a food town at it's best--creative yet classic, indulgent yet modest, and fabulously positioned in the middle of a palatable wonderland. (Think Willy Wonka's edible room, but replace the gum drop trees with filbert trees and succulent marionberry bushes, swap the marshmallow mushrooms with golden chanterelles and shitakes, and drain the chocolate river and refill it with hop-heavy microbrews, organic house-roasted coffee, and earthy, inspiring wines the leave the French shaking in their chaussures.)

My first (and only) trip to Stumptown prior to my hasty move was in mid-September, and I had a day to kill with a local chef friend who gave me a tour of the kitchen before we hit the streets of downtown. It was a Wednesday, as luck would have it, and we stumbled upon the Park Blocks Farmers Market. There, we sampled fragrant herbed cheeses, sipped organic Hood River cider, and left with a crusty multi-grain baguette and the world's most luscious white peaches at their juicy, flavorful peak. It was all over for me right there.

I'm not exactly sure where my affair with Food started--maybe somewhere circa 1986 when I was pulling spices and dried beans from the cabinets, mixing them all in a bowl, and then patiently waiting for my terrified cats to indulge in the treat I created for them. Maybe it was in 8th grade home ec, the true manifestation of my middle school awkward phase (sure, we'll call it a phase), where I secretly reveled in that hour of grilled cheese-making bliss and didn't mind staying after class. (Alright, I'll give it another shot. I'll give home ec another shot...) Or maybe it's just that I'm always hungry. Needless to say, we dated briefly, Food and I, and then I, being the codependent one, dove head first into a serious relationship. Now one of us just has to commit. Culinary school? Restaurateur? Assistant line cook, at least? Nope.

Always the difficult one, I didn't think taking this infatuation and putting it to logical use was the right path for me. My professional life has nothing to do with the culinary world at all, but I still get at it in any way I can on the side, changing our relationship from healthy coexistence to something more like addiction. And now that I'm in Portland, all bets are off. So, since rehab is clearly not an option, (you wouldn't drop a recovering alcoholic in the middle of Oktoberfest and expect her to stay on the wagon, would you?) my fetish needs some sort of outlet while the farmers markets are out of season. This brings me to the blog. My first blog! Well, what else would I write about? Coworker woes and shamefully contrived soul-searching? I know what you're thinking, but don't worry...I'll save that melodrama for my journal try to focus my public musings on adventures in gastronomy.

No, I don't have "credentials," but I like to think of my experiences as the Culinary School of Hard Knocks. Oh, you learned to make a perfect Béchamel in Sauces, 101? Well, I was spiking Prego with basil stolen from the neighbor's yard and my parents' cooking wine. I mashed potatoes for an entire Thanksgiving feast for 20 with nothing but a plastic fork! OK, enough already. (My tuiles could beat yours in a fight!)

I've never had a blog before, so I can't say exactly how successful I'll be at keeping up with it, or really how it's supposed to work at all. I find it slightly self-indulgent to put my inner monologue into writing and expect people to care about it, but hey, I love to write, and I can't really help it. (Addict, remember?) Let's say, in theory, I'll try to write about my food adventures, indulgences, feats and failures, and hope that at the least it comes out in a mildly entertaining way. Anyone who decides to read this, I hope you know that you are just feeding my addiction, so thanks a lot. (Enablers.)

Disclaimer: while this is a serious attempt at offering some actual food insight through my twisted affair with the culinary world, it is also just that; a glimpse at a personal relationship, which always brings with it an element of incoherency, emotional bias, and depending on the strength of the Stream of Consciousness, some unexpected debris.

Cheers!