Mushroom Hunting: What a Trip!

So, it's been rainy round these parts. No complaints - the rain is a welcome sight, and hey, let's face it, Napa Valley is no Minneapolis. Things could definitely be worse.

I bring up the rain because here in Northern California, rain means one thing and one thing only to a select group of diligent, fungus-obsessed souls: mushrooms! A good friend of ours, John, is one such fervent mycologist, and lucky for me, he often invites Randall along for his foraging adventures. Such was the case last week. The duo was out the door at the crack of dawn to an undisclosed location somewhere along the Sonoma coast to a site where John has been successfully gathering mushrooms for decades. I think he made Ran wear a blindfold to the secret spot. I'm not exactly kidding. (Mushroom hunters are VERY territorial - I am jeopardizing my relationship with John by the mere fact that I mention the coast - to him, "Northern California" is entirely too precise when describing his hunting grounds.)

Now, I wasn't there (I just got to reap the rewards!) - but apparently the day involved miles of hiking, soaking wet clothing and mud up to there. And the mushrooms don't just jump out and scream "Hey there! Here I am!" - no no. They lie in wait under the duff and dirt of the forest floor, beneath the protective canopies of certain species of trees. Finding them takes skill and practice. I believe it was Michael Pollan in one of his books that described the ability to see mushrooms in the wild as a learned knack he called "getting your mushroom eyes on" - or something to that effect. The clever fungi use all of nature's camouflage tricks to stay as hidden as possible, when in fact, they are just about everywhere underfoot. (Bit of trivia: the single largest living organism on the planet is, in fact, a mushroom.) And then there's the whole component of actually knowing - really, truly knowing - which mushrooms are safe to consume, as opposed to which ones are toxic. It's a fine line - but one you don't want to find out the hard way. One mistake will cost you your life - or at the very least, a vital organ or two. John, thankfully, is one of those people that really, truly does know the difference. I've personally trusted my own life to his mushroom identification skills many a time - and I'm still here.

Now - the types of mushrooms that the boys were hunting that day were varied: black trumpet, hedgehog (above), other varieties that I'd never heard of (like that big yellow one pictured below)... but mainly, the prized matsutake. (Chantrelles and morels - my absolute favorites - will be a different trip.) If you ever want to know what money smells like, just take a big whiff of a matsutake. The matsutake are highly prized in Japan where they can go for almost $1,000 per pound. Here, they don't command quite a sum, but you can still expect to pay anywhere from $25-$50 per pound if you can find them fresh (usually at a farmer's market).

Here's a bit of good info, excerpted from The New York Times:

"The name matsutake means 'pine mushroom' in Japan, where the local species grows in association with Japanese red pines. About 15 other closely related species occur worldwide, including the American matsutake, which flourishes in coniferous forests across North America (and particularly in the Northwest and Northern California) [in association] with fir, spruce and pine, as well as tanoaks.

"Japanese pay a premium for young, unopened matsutakes, before the veil between the cap and the stem breaks, which stay fresh better than more mature ones. (Matsutakes at this stage have a phallic appearance, and women at the imperial court at Kyoto once were forbidden to speak the mushroom's name.) However, there's no difference in flavor.

"The price and availability vary considerably, depending on the domestic and international harvests and demand from Japan."

Bless them, the boys brought back two bushels full of the gems. And that was after a really sweet bargaining trade on their way home. They stopped in Bodega Bay and greeted the Dungeness crab fisherman pulling up to the docks. A few rare and prized mushrooms go a long way toward negotiating a killer deal on the freshest crab imaginable.

So guess what my dinner was that night? You got it - heaps and heaps of sauteed mushrooms with fresh cracked crab. (I kept the mushrooms really simple to let their natural flavor shine through. I sauteed them in a combination of olive oil and butter - small amounts of both, just enough to coat the pan - and drained the juice as the mushrooms released their water. Salted them lightly. In the end, they were caramelized, tender and almost steak-like). Heaven!

So boys - when the next hunting trip?

Ran's pictures from the harbor in Bodega Bay...

Living It Up, Loft Style... with Crab!

Ok - generally, I think I'm pretty cool. Fairly hip to the world. Not entirely primitive in the scheme of things or clueless to what is au courant. I wouldn't exactly say that I'm on the cutting edge, but I didn't think I was wading in the backwaters either. And I'm talking in generalities about everything - technology, fashion, hot spots, friends, hobbies.... whatever. I felt like I had a finger kind of on the pulse.

Um.... turns out, no so much.

I got a bit of a wake up call this week. It hit me - hard up side of the head - that I'm actually quite the country bumpkin. Completely out of my league when it comes to all things trendy, chic and happening. I am, officially, a nerd. Ouch. It stung for a moment as I saw all of my urban fantasies fizzle into reality. But then I looked around and realized I'm ok - more than ok - with my quiet little life and went back to reading my novel. I also realized that I just need to continue living vicariously, and glom onto my friends that have a much more glamourous life than I do.

So that's just what I did this weekend. Ran and I have a friend, Jennifer, who lives in one of those super cool lofts in Oakland - you know the kind: a huge industrial warehouse that has been converted into an amazing living space. That, in and of itself, makes her WAY cooler than I'll ever be. Her loft is particularly spectacular: penthouse level, wrap-around terrace, with sweeping views of the Bay, San Francisco and the East Bay hills. It's got soaring ceilings with 12-foot glass doors and windows providing the same unobstructed view as from the terrace.

It's located near Jack London Square, buffered by the low drone of the 880 on one side and the haunting wails of the train whistles on the other. You can walk to Oakland's Chinatown or the Alameda estuary waterfront, and in between the scrappy, dark, shipyard bars, you can wander into any number of micro wineries or groovy wine bars that are taking up residence in that part of town as well.

It was a great place to convene for a dinner party.

Earlier in the day, Jennifer had procured fresh Dungeness crab from the Asian fishmonger's warehouse a block up the street, and a crab feed was born. She boiled them briefly (just to... you know.... kill them), then they were finished off by roasting them in a bath of olive oil, butter, garlic and shallots. Pair that with a salad, bread and good wine - perfection.


Now I love me some crab, but I shy away from cleaning them. Not that I wouldn't do it, but luckily for me, I have a husband who is really really good at it. Here's a video where he shows you how to clean crab, if you're interested in making them fresh yourself. Invaluable information folks, take a look:

So anyhow, my hipster coolness was restored (in my mind) for a night. I should be good to go for another 30,000 miles. Now where's my jammies?

Miso Tasty: Miso Glaze - Good on Anything!

This post is for my dad. A few weeks back, he commented that lately he'd been enjoying quite a few meals out that featured "miso glaze" on this and that. He has a tendency - as do I - to frequent Asian restaurants, and was finding that he was really liking this miso thing; he wanted to know how to make it at home. Turns out, miso glaze is one of my favorite and super simple ways to jazz up a meal... so, a dinner party was born.

Over this glorious, rain-free (!) Memorial Day weekend, we got together à chez moi and grilled up a storm (grilling=requirement for the holiday, correct?). Chicken, veggies, and my favorite - salmon - all went on the grill, and although it tastes great when brushed on any of the above, the miso glaze was reserved for the fish this time around.

There's not much to it - you whisk together just a couple of ingredients, brush it on during the last stages of grilling or broiling, and voila - dinner done tasty. You don't need to season the fish, chicken or veggies with anything other than the glaze - it's got enough salt and flavor within the sauce to do the trick nicely all on its own.

As mentioned, salmon is my hands-down favorite miso glazed variation (the picture above is broiled wild Alaskan sockeye salmon with miso glaze, served with quinoa and spicy garlic fava beans... I could have that every night of the week!). But it's great on chicken and even steak as well. If you're going the veggie route, I suggest eggplant, asparagus, zucchini and portobello mushrooms - they all work beautifully. Whatever the case, it's easy and it's good.

So here you go dad - miso glaze. And thanks again for such a great time spent together - the best part of the meal!

Miso Glaze

• 1/4 cup miso paste (red or white - it doesn't matter)
• 1 tablespoon fish sauce
• 1 tablespoon sesame oil
• 1 tablespoon rice wine vinegar
• 1 tablespoon honey (you could also use brown sugar)

Whisk all ingredients together; go forth and glaze!

Nothing Fishy Here: Lao-Style Whole Grilled Talapia

For being a land-locked country, Laos cuisine is chock full of fish. The rivers - in particular, the Mekong - are a huge source of food. Fish abounds in every market, every restaurant, and every street corner grill. As I was cruising down the Mekong River over the course of three lazy days, often the only other signs of civilization for hours on end were the fishermen in slender, low-slung boats, hand casting their nets.

So naturally, I ate my fill of fish. My favorite, which I have now attempted to replicate several times at home (successfully, I think!), is whole grilled talapia, aromatically seasoned by stuffing the cleaned fish with fistfuls of herbs and spices. I get the beautiful whole fish locally at... you guessed it... 99 Ranch Market, the Asian superstore that I mention here often. (Word of warning however: avoid 99 Ranch - especially the spectacular fish counter - the day before Chinese New Year. I learned the hard way.)

The trick is grilling the talapia without the whole fish just falling apart. I wish I had some tips for how to do that - I don't, really. You could use a fish basket gadget thingy, but dammit... it's just fish over a fire. I like being a purist. I wish I wish I had the set-up that they do in Laos; they sandwich the fish between two sturdy bamboo sticks that are bound tightly enough on each end to hold the fish in place. The ends of the sticks are propped on blocks so that the fish, belly-side down, spans the flame (see picture, above). It's like a perfect little spit, enabling even grilling and turning, without the filling spilling out or the fish falling apart. But alas - I have a regular ol' charcoal Weber... I simply take my chances and cook the fish on their sides. Only one fiasco so far.

At any rate - the ingredients I use to stuff the fish are the same that I had from a street-side vendor just outside of Luang Prabang: lemongrass, garlic, galangal, ginger, rau ram (Vietnamese coriander- cilantro is an acceptable substitute), basil, a sprinkling of salt and a few slivers of the extremely hot Thai birds-eye chilies. I simply pack the cavity of the fish until it's fairly bursting and then secure it closed with a bamboo skewer. I coat the entire thing with a liberal brush of olive oil to keep it from sticking on the grill (my own addition - certainly not a Lao tradition), and score the skin to save it from splitting from the heat. Once grilled, I finish it off with a squeeze of fresh citrus - lemon or lime.

How long do I grill the fish? Over what sort of heat? I have no idea. I just let the coals get nice and white-hot, let the fish cook on one side until it has firmed up enough to turn, and then pull it from the heat when the flesh is firm to the touch and the skin is crispy and golden. Nothing to it.

You can do it, right? No? Jeez... just come over then - I'll happily make it for you!

So Much Sorrel, So Little Time, Part 1: Pan-Seared Halibut with Sorrel Sauce

Any sorrel fans out there? I'm a big fan, but my affection for the leafy herb is still young. The first time I ever had sorrel was a scant year ago when my friend Jane made sorrel soup as her contribution to the Fare to Remember cookbook. She made the elegant yet simple soup from sorrel grown in her own garden, cultivated from seeds that had been lovingly been brought from France by another mutual friend.

The soup was a revelation. I learned that I've been missing out my entire life! Ever since, I can't get enough of it. I promptly bought a seedling, and when my herb beds were completed last Spring, the seedling had a permanent home where it has grown and grown...and grown (sorrel is know for its propensity to grow like a weed). No matter. Sorrel has a bright, verdant flavor that requires little else to spruce it up - so I've been using it in salads and oftentimes in place of spinach in certain recipes. It's divine.

This recipe came about simply because my garden was brimming with both sorrel and parsley. And after reading up about sorrel, I learned that pairing sorrel sauces with fish is very traditional in French cooking. Well ooh la la... saisissez le jour!

As for the soup that started it all... there's plenty more sorrel in my garden, just waiting for "soup weather" to arrive. Any day now... any day.

Pan-Seared Halibut with Sorrel Sauce

• 2 pounds of fresh halibut filets, skin removed and cut into portion-sized pieces
  
• 2 shallots, minced fine
• 2-3 tablespoons of olive oil (maybe more to pan-sear the fish)
  
• 1-1/2 cups dry white wine (I used a chardonnay - a typical "fat" Napa chard with lots of buttery/oakey flavors... not what I like to drink, but perfect for this recipe.)
  
• 1/2 cup nonfat sour cream (or go for broke and use creme fraiche or heavy cream)
• 2 cups fresh sorrel leaves, rough chopped
• 2 cups fresh parsley, rough chopped
• Salt and pepper, to taste

Place the shallots and olive oil in a small saucepan and cook over low heat until the shallots are soft. Add the sorrel and parsley; cook gently until the herbs are wilted. Add 1/2 cup of the wine to deglaze the pan; cook until reduced by 1/4. Transfer everything to a blender; blend until smooth. Return to saucepan and add the remainder of the wine; bring to a simmer and reduce again by 1/4. Add the cream and continue to simmer until the sauce naps a spoon. Do not allow to boil. Season with salt and pepper to taste; remove from heat.

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Meanwhile, lightly brush the halibut with olive oil on both sides. Preheat an oven-proof skillet on the stove with a coating of olive oil in the bottom of the pan. When the pan is smoking hot, drop in the filets in a single layer and sear each side until caramel in color. Transfer to hot oven and continue to roast until done (about 10-12 minutes per inch of thickness).

Chipotle Prawn Tostadas

I have no great back story about these tostadas, only that they're freakin' delicious. They are a creation of mine that is super healthy, and a gives you a perfect place to hide loads of veggies from the veggie-averse (like children. And husbands). Also a bonus: the salad mixture that tops the baked tortillas is great all on its own, and since it's made with kale (as oposed to lettuce) - it keeps really, really well for a couple of days in the refrigerator without going soggy. As is typical for me, this dish doesn't really have a recipe, just a few guidelines to create a tasty, healthy dish that will please the masses.

Chiptole Prawn Tostadas

• Use taco-sized corn or flour tortillas; I found a great chipotle-flavored tortilla made from a corn/flour blend. Brush each tortilla with olive oil and bake in a 350-degree oven for 15-20 minutes until crisp. 
• For the salad, combine a healthy amount of chopped kale (center stalk removed) with one 15-ounce can of black beans (drained), one 15-ounce can of mandarin orange segments, 1/2 of a red onion (chopped fine), 4-6 Roma tomatos (diced), 1 cucumber (peeled, seeded and diced) and 1-2 avocados (diced; add very last to keep from browning or getting mushy). Dress the salad with a glug of olive oil, the juice of 3-4 fresh-squeezed limes, chopped garlic (to taste), a 1/2-teaspoon or so of ground cumin, and salt (to taste). Toss and let stand for a minimum of an hour to let the flavors develop. 
• Peel and devein the prawns; season with a dusting of chipotle chili powder, garlic powder, black pepper and salt. Grill, saute or broil until cooked. 
• To assemble: place a heap of the salad atop the tostada shell; top with prawns.

I'm Game!

I don't know about you, but when an invitation arrives for a grilled meat fest, I say yes. Immediately. That was the case recently when my friend Betsy announced that her parents were loading up their Suburban with fresh Minnesota trout, salmon, steelhead, venison and wild turkey and packing it West, for the sole purpose of hosting a good ol' Midwestern cookout for Betsy's uninitiated California friends. It was like all of Betsy's childhood comfort foods were pulling up to her doorstep, with plenty to go around. Needless to say, I cleared my schedule.

Betsy's dad is the hunter/fisherman/grill sergeant; her mom is the kitchen commander. Between the two of them, they put on quite a spread. Between the smoked salmon and wild turkey pâtés, the savory Jell-o salad (that's right - a lemon Jell-o and herb concoction), and the heaps and heaps of grilled meat and fish, the eating and socializing went on for hours. There were two choices of grilled fish (both steelhead and trout from Lake Superior); slices of venison loin that melted in your mouth, and wild turkey breast on skewers that would have done Paul Bunyan proud. Everything was beautifully marinated, seasoned and cooked - but I was too busy gorging (and listening to the hunting and fishing tales that accompanied each course) that I didn't even remember to beg for a recipe. (That's probably ok - not sure I'll have access to fresh venison any time soon!)

But in the spirit of why I created Fare to Remember, where community is all about sharing good times and making good memories over splendid meals, this one tops the charts. Thanks Mueller clan for the invitation - I hope I can return the gesture someday!

Smoked Trout

Venison Loin

Fiesta Tilapia

Introducing my Fiesta Tilapia - the most colorful, over-the-top healthy, tasty dish you'll ever make that will feed a family of four (or more!) for under 15 bucks!

So here's what's in it: tilapia fillets with cilantro pesto, steamed in parchment in the oven with a confetti of colored bell peppers and Anaheim chili, diced juicy tomatoes and fresh niblets of sweet white corn. All topped with a creamy orange sauce and a squeeze of lime. And then just to keep the good times rolling, I served roasted sweet potatoes on the side, as well as a spicy arugula salad, dressed simply with olive oil, lemon juice, and a sprinkling of good freshly-ground sea salt. And honestly, the whole meal cost less than an upscale cocktail at one of our local watering holes (I'll list the costs with the ingredients just to prove it!).

Cinco de Mayo and the fresh flavors/vibrant colors of Mexico were the inspiration for this dish, so if you're looking for healthy way to celebrate the holiday, look no more (and with a dinner this healthy and inexpensive, you can justify -and afford - a margarita or two!). I served this dish to four grown men with meat-n-tater palettes and got nothing but rave reviews - that's cause enough for a fiesta!

Fiesta Tilapia

• 1 pound tilapia fillets ($4.99)
• 1 bunch cilantro ($1.29)
• 2 garlic cloves, crushed ($0.19)
• 4 medium tomatoes, diced ($1.99)
• 1 Anaheim chili, seeded and diced fine ($0.18)
• 2 colored bell peppers ($1.94)
• 1 fresh ear of white corn, niblets removed ($0.29)
• Grated orange zest, to taste
• Salt, to taste
• Orange sauce, recipe to follow
  
• Lime wedges, for serving ($0.20)

In a food processor, pulse together the cilantro and crushed garlic with a drizzle of olive oil. Add a pinch of salt, to taste. Brush the cilantro pesto mixture onto the tilapia fillets. Place individual fillets in the center of rectangle pieces of parchment paper (big enough to fold into an envelope around the fish and other ingredients). In a mixing bowl, toss together the diced peppers, tomatoes and Anaheim chili with the corn niblets; divide the mixture equally and add to the top of the fish. Grate the zest of an orange on top of all ingredients. Seal up the parchment into envelope packets by folding in the center across the top, and rolling in the side edges. Staple the edges closed if needed. Place parchment packets on a baking sheet and place in a pre-heated 400-degree oven. Cook for 20 minutes. Remove from parchement packets and serve with a drizzle of the orange sauce and a wedge of lime. Be careful when removing contents of parchment; steam will escape.

Orange sauce:

• 1/2 pint cream ($1.19)
• 1/4 cup butter ($0.44)
• The juice of 1 orange ($0.49)
• 1 tablespoon orange zest, or to taste
• Salt, to taste.
  

In a saucepan over medium heat, bring the cream to a boil. Reduce the heat and simmer until the cream has reduced by 1/4. Add the butter, orange juice and orange zest; stir to melt. Continue to simmer until the sauce has thickened and reduced by half. Season with salt to taste.

Side dishes:

• 2 sweet potatoes ($1.29), peeled and cubed; coat with olive oil and roast in a 400-degree oven until soft
• 6 ounces arugula ($1.99); tossed with a light coating of olive oil, fresh-squeezed lemon juice ($0.49), and freshly-ground sea salt to taste.

Grand total for entire meal, feeds 4: $14.97