Friday night. What could be better for a simple dinner on a frosty night, while sitting on the sofa watching a DVD, than Flammkuchen – German pizza?

Flammkuchen – literally, “flame cake” – is a dish from the Alsace-Lorraine region (much of which bounced back and forth between France and Germany over the last couple of centuries).

Flammkuchen is made like a thin-crust pizza, topped with crème fraîche, onions, and Speck - a salt-cured and lightly smoked ham. My first taste of Flammkuchen came about two decades ago while Irina and I were staying in Cousin Alexander’s Bauernhof, right in the heart of the small German village of Oberotterbach.

Elements of Cousin Alexander’s “farm” house – like the rear wall, which the house shares with the town Catholic church and cemetery – date from the 13th century. All the while we stayed there those church bells pealed every fifteen minutes, day and night, ringing out the quarter-hour and the hour. It’s enough to make one an atheist.

It really was (and is still) a farmhouse, dead square in the middle of town. Behind those big doors are a central courtyard; barns, stalls, and sheds; tractors and wagons; a well; a kitchen garden; and a wine and root cellar beneath the living quarters. Farmers live in the village, and sortie out to their fields each day.

Oberotterbach lies just across the border from the French town of Wissembourg, which marks the start of the Deutsche Weinstrasse. Here’s the Deutsches Weintor through which we drove back and forth between Germany and France in our ancient, borrowed Fiat Cinquecento.

The border control station was just on the other side of the “wine gate”. The border controls were a joke, as they were easily circumvented. Rather than staying on the main road, instead take one of the numerous back roads that crisscross the border through the vineyards. During our stay there, EU borders were opened and the inspection stations between Germany and France shuttered.

We often walked the ~4 km to Wissembourg from Oberotterbach through the vineyards and over a shoulder of the Sonnenberg, avoiding roads completely, ending up in a bar where the Gitanes and Gauloises smoke hung so thick and heavy you had to crawl on you hands and knees to see and to breath. But I digress.

The oldest building in Oberotterbach contains a Zehntkeller (literally, “10th cellar”), which was used for storing the local baron’s “10th” share of the harvest from the surrounding area. Kind of like a 13th century version of a local IRS. Centuries later, a cramped corner of that vaulted cellar housed a jazz club called the Musikantebuckl.

Along with the music they served local beer, local wine, and Flammkuchen baked in a wood-fired pizza oven. Love at first bite: I was closer to heaven than a kid from Sacramento could ever reasonably expect to find himself.

Though the Musikantebuckl is still jumping, getting there on a Friday night is now out of reach for us. But it’s easy to recreate a bit of that heaven right here. The biggest challenge is to find a substitute for Speck, which isn’t readily available here. Some recipes call for bacon, but we find bacon too fatty and too smoky. We’ve found that the uncured side of pork we get when we buy a half a hog (which would be bacon if it were smoked) works just fine once it’s trimmed of all fat.

Flammkuchen à La Ferme Noire

For two 12? Flammkuchen:

1 lb Irina’s bread dough
½ lb well-trimmed pork belly, cut into small cubes
1 medium red onion
6 oz crème fraîche (we use the delicious crema Mexicana that is available locally)
Sea salt
Crushed black pepper
A small piece of a whole nutmeg, crushed.

Place the dough on a well-floured surface. Divide into two pieces and roll into balls, coating liberally with flour. Flatten a bit with the palm of your hand, and roll out with a pizza roller, dusting with additional flour as necessary.

This dough is really wet, so it demands a bit of special care for the process to go smoothly. When you’ve finished rolling the skins out, make sure they are well dusted with flour. Fold into halves, then quarters; place on a board covered with wax paper (we use a couple of pieces of Masonite cut into 12″ x 12″ squares), unfold, and set aside to rise for an hour or so and to dry on top a bit.

While the dough is resting, rising, and drying, trim any fat off the pork and cut the meat into small cubes. Put the cubes of meat in a bowl, add salt, crushed pepper, and crushed nutmeg, and toss until the meat is evenly coated. Peel the onion and cut into thin strips, separating the layers.

About half an hour before cooking, put your pizza stone into the oven to pre-heat. You’ll want to use a very hot oven (like 500°). We most often cook pizza outdoors on a gas barbeque, especially in the summer when you don’t want to be heating up the kitchen.

While the oven and pizza stone are getting hot, prepare the Flammkuchen. The pizza skins must be transferred to a make-up board. We use larger and thicker pieces of Masonite for this purpose, 16? x 24? x ¼”; Masonite has a slick and slippery surface, and the ample size of the make-up board allows plenty of room to get the pizza sliding around freely before sliding it onto the hot pizza stone to bake. First sprinkle the make-up board liberally with corn meal (the corn meal acts like little ball bearings). Then flip the pizza skin on top of the corn meal so it’s waxed-paper side up, and peel off the wax paper.

Spread the crème fraîche over the pizza skins. Sprinkle evenly with the onions, then with the seasoned meat. Tap the side of the make-up board to make sure the pizza is sliding free, then slide the pizza off the make-up board and onto the hot pizza stone.

Close the cover (or the oven door) and bake until the crust is browned and crispy. As my dear departed father would say, video camera in hand, here we are.

We had planned to save one of the two Flammkuchen in the freezer for another day, but it tasted so darn irresistible we ate them both!

We have made vegetarian versions of Flammkuchen too, substituting local wild mushrooms (from The Mushroomery) for the pork. While not traditional, it’s really delicious, too.

When you buy a whole or a half lamb from a local farmer, it’s not like going to the supermarket where you can pick out the exact cut you want, whether it be shoulder chops, loin chops, or a leg. Around here, you’re lucky to find a store that carries any lamb at all. In the mid-valley, the nearest place to buy a choice cut like a leg or a rack is probably Corvallis, at an upscale market such as Market of Choice.

When you buy local locker lamb, (half or whole) you get everything – from the neck to the shanks. You have to know how to cook the various cuts, as they each demand to be treated differently. And when it comes to an valuable cut like a rack, you don’t want to ruin it. Unlike a rack you buy at a market that’s been trimmed by a butcher, you cannot simply throw it in the oven and roast it. The rack has to be prepped for cooking first. If your rack comes wrapped in white paper from your local slaughterhouse, you have to prep it yourself.

A rack of lamb comes with a thick layer of fat across the back.

You have to take that layer of fat off. Leave it on and the rack will be impossible to cook properly. What’s more, the result will be a rack that is difficult to cut and serve; and the meat will be drenched in excess, unpleasant-tasting fat.

Fortunately, removing the layer of fat is easy. Simply grab it by one corner and rip it off – it comes off in one piece.  Begin by separating the fat from the meat with a knife at a corner, then pull on the fat, continuing to cut between the fat and the meat with a knife as necessary as you pull the fat off.

Now doesn’t that look better?

There’s some meat embedded within that layer of fat that shouldn’t be wasted. Trim it out rather than throwing it away.

There’s more . . .

You’ll end up with a nicely trimmed rack, a little pile of lamb meat – enough for maybe a soup or a burrito or a stir fry – and a big chunk of fat to be thrown out.

If you want, you can cut out a little of the meat between the rib bones, leaving little bone handles to grab onto when eating. Add that meat to your pile of saved meat trimmings.

We’ve trained our butcher to cut off the chine bone, and he mostly gets it right. With the chine bone off, it’s a simple thing to cut between the ribs, carving off individual chops for serving when the rack is done. If the chine bone is left on the rack, this is impossible – so you have to make sure the chine bone is removed completely at this stage. If some of it is still there you’d best cut it off. A hacksaw works. The picture above shows the chine bone properly removed.

Now the rack is almost ready for roasting. Rub it with sea salt and freshly crushed pepper. Chop up a clove of garlic or two, and the leaves from a nice sprig of rosemary. Put in a bowl with a teaspoon of prepared stone-ground mustard and a splash of red wine.  Whisk in an ounce or so of olive oil. Coat the rack on all sides with the marinade and let sit at room temperature for a while, until you’re ready to pop it in the oven.

Roast the rack in a pre-heated 450° oven for 20 minutes or so, or until the internal temperature reaches 116° (check with an instant-reading thermometer).  Do not overcook! Rack of lamb should be served rare. Remove the rack to a serving dish and let it rest for a few minutes while you get the rest of the meal on the table and prepare the sauce. The sauce can be really simple -deglaze the roasting pan with a healthy splash of red wine, scraping up all the tasty brown bits.  Carve the rack, cutting between and separating the individual riblets. Pour the sauce around the rack and serve.

Bon Appétit!

Old friends from Seattle days, who now live near Hillsboro, were coming to visit this last weekend, along with their son home from college during break. As a special treat, we pulled a package of moose roast, labeled “strap steak”, from the freezer. Saturday morning, I unwrapped it to begin preparing it for cooking. Lo and behold, a flank steak! Of moose!

Flank steak holds special status in our home. The first meal I fixed for Irina back when we were courting was a beef flank steak, cooked over coals on little hibachi at my bachelor pad in Winslow, cooked rare and sliced thin, served with Brussels sprouts, steamed just crisp. Guys: quite the thing to impress the ladies. It worked!

Three exclamation points already, a bit much. But the sentences are true and righteous exclamations – and it gets better. We had already procured special mushrooms for the meal: white elm, and wild hedgehog and chanterelles from The Mushroomery. Grilled flank steak of moose, served with a rich mushroom sauce and mashed potatoes.

First, the sauce.

Wild Mushroom Sauce

4 T goose fat (or duck fat, or butter)
¾ lb. wild or good quality mushrooms, brushed and coarsely chopped
1 large shallot, finely chopped
1 clove garlic, peeled and finely chopped
2 T flour
1 C red wine
1 C beef stock
½ C tomato purée
bouquet garni (parsley, celery greens, thyme, bay leaf)
1 whole clove
2-3 carrots, whole
Salt & pepper to taste

Heat the fat in a saucepan over medium-high heat. Add shallot and sauté until softened and translucent. Add garlic, cook for a minute or two, then add mushrooms. Cook, stirring, for a few minutes, then add flour. Mix well and cook for a few minutes, scraping the bottom of the pan so the flour doesn’t scorch. Add wine a splash at a time, stirring to form a smooth, thick paste. Continue adding wine, stirring, then add the beef stock and tomato purée. Add bouquet garni, clove, and whole carrots. Bring to boil and simmer for 1 – 1½ hours until reduced to desired consistency. Remove and discard bouquet garni and carrots and season with salt and pepper to taste. May be done ahead of time and re-heated just before serving.

Fresh vegetables are scarce this time of year, but lightly cooked sauerkraut tastes crisp and fresh.

Light winter sauerkraut

1 lb sauerkraut, rinsed three times in fresh water to remove salt
1 small yellow onion, coarsely chopped
1 large apple, peeled, cored and cut into chunks
2 T butter
1 clove
1 small chunk of a nutmeg
6 juniper berries
1 bay leaf
½ C white wine (riesling or gewürztraminer are perfect)
Salt and white pepper to taste

In a saucepan, heat the butter and sauté the onion until softened and translucent. Add apple and cook a bit. Add the rinsed and drained sauerkraut and toss until well mixed and cooked a bit. Smash the clove, nutmeg, and juniper berries and add to sauerkraut along with bay leaf, salt, and crushed white peppercorns.  Add white wine and cook, covered, for ½hour. Remove bay leaf and serve.

The moose flank steak was simplicity itself: rub with a little sea salt and freshly cracked black pepper, and goose fat which we happened to have on hand; let sit out at room temperature for a couple of hours before cooking; and cook over a hot barbeque until just rare (116° internal temperature at thickest part). Slice thinly and serve.

We began with a little salad made with fresh lettuces from the garden, dressed with a choice of local olive oil or local hazelnut oil. Our guests brought a bottle of Cliff Creek Cellars 2005 Syrah, made from grapes from Sams Valley Vineyard in the Rogue Valley. The wine was big, robust and full-fruited, a perfect accompaniment to the rich and deeply flavored moose.

Next morning before our guests departed, we fixed a brunch of scrambled duck eggs, yellow potatoes fried in goose fat, and Irina’s bread toasted and served with raspberry/pinot noir jam. A dozen duck eggs, and duck eggs are big. 20- year-old young men eat a lot – no leftover moose from dinner for a lunch burrito.

Life is hard on the farm. I’m going to miss that goose fat when it’s gone.

For New Year’s Eve, a small group of neighbors have a tradition of imposing on the hospitality of a couple who live enough nearby that driving is not an obstacle on this most celebratory of all the holidays. The mantle of “chef” has somehow settled on my shoulders for this event. This year, I was asked to prepare the “bean thing” that served for dinner last year.

I can’t remember what I had for dinner last night, much less last year. What in the world could that “bean thing” have been? I’m thinking, must have been some version of cassoulet. Let’s take inventory: in the freezer, ham hocks, side of pork, sausages from Michael, goose stock and duck stock. In the refrigerator, leftover goose from Christmas dinner, plus more meat picked from the bones boiled for stock. Goose fat and duck fat. In the cellar, onions and garlic, and a jar of canned tomatoes from the garden. All we need are a couple of pounds of cannellini beans and we’re good to go.

New Year’s Cassoulet

Serves 12 – 16

2 lb. canellini beans
8 T duck or goose fat
1 head of garlic, peeled and smashed
2 large onions, chopped
2 large carrots, chopped
2 ham hocks
2 lb. side of pork, cut into 1?cubes
1 bouquet garni (4 sprigs savory, 4 sprigs thyme, 4 sprigs parsley, 4 sprigs celery greens, 3 bay leaves)
1 quart jar puréed tomatoes
1 cup white wine
2½ quarts goose or duck broth (chicken stock will do in a pinch)
4 confit duck legs (we used goose, both left over from Christmas dinner and picked from the carcass after being boiled for stock)
4 lb. pork sausages (we used 4 garlic sausages and 4 jalapeño sausages from the Pepper Tree)
2 cups bread crumbs

Day 1

Put beans in a large bowl or other container, add water until water covers beans with 2 or three inches to spare, and soak overnight.

Day 2

1. Heat 4 T duck or goose fat in a large braising pan.  Add the pork cubes and brown on all sides; remove and set aside.  Brown the sausages and set aside, then brown the ham hocks and set aside.  Toss the onions and carrots into the pan and sauté until the onions are softened and translucent.  Splash in the wine, add the broth, then all of the browned meats.  Add the bouquet garni.  Bring to the boil, the simmer, covered, for 1½ hours until the meats are tender.

2. When done, pour everything in the braising pan through a colander, catching the stock in another pot.  Remove and discard the bouquet garni.  Pick out the meats with a pair of tongs and set aside to cool a bit.  Run the other solids caught in the colander (onions, carrots, garlic) through a blender until they form a paste; add paste to pot with broth and mix.  When cool enough, trim excess fat off pork chunks.  Trim meat of ham hocks and discard everything else (save the pork fat and all of the other bits from the ham hocks except the bone for the dog).  Cut sausages into enough pieces that you have at least one piece of each kind of sausage per person.

3. Drain beans.  Put beans in a large pot, cover with water, bring to boil, and simmer for ten minutes.  Drain and rinse.

4.  Return beans to pot.  Add stock, making sure beans are well covered.  Bring to boil and simmer for 1½- 2 hours until beans are just tender.

5.  When beans are done, spread ½ of beans on bottom of braising pan.  Spread meats (pork, ham, sausages, and duck or goose) on top of beans.  Cover with remainder of beans.  Cover and keep in refrigerator.

Day 3:  serving day

1. Heat oven to 300?. Drizzle cassoulet with duck or goose fat. Add enough additional broth to just cover the beans and bake, uncovered, for 3 hours.

2.  Remove cassoulet from oven.   Sprinkle with bread crumbs.  Drizzle with remaining fat.

We then took the cassoulet with us to our friends’ house to finish:

3.  Bake the cassoulet at 275° for 1 hour longer, until it is richly browned on the surface. Let rest for at least 20 minutes before serving.

Et voilà.

I think I prefer the cassoulet without the bread crumbs: instead, finish it off by baking for one hour at 325°. You still end up with a nice crusty surface.

This cassoulet was so tasty our New Year’s Eve hosts invited themselves for leftovers the next day. For me, the best is yet to come: after all the meaty bits have been picked over, the beans make for the best damn burrito that has ever passed a pair of lips.

Oh, turns out cassoulet wasn’t the requested “bean thing” after all. Consensus was, last year’s dinner was soupier, and served in a pot rather than a flat braising pan. By acclaim, a new tradition is born.

Can an event be called “celebratory” if everyone is home in bed by 10:00? We never even got around to opening the champagne.

Heartwarming news: the first lambs of the season were born today, January 5.

Twins, a boy (gray) and a girl (black), to a first-time momma, both strong and healthy. It’s a good day to be born, sunny and warm. Yesterday’s high was 63°, downright balmy for January. Today looks to be an encore.

. . . just before lunch, in plenty of time for a nap before preparing Christmas dinner. It’s tradition at our house to host Christmas dinner for those of our friends who find themselves without family or other obligations. Nontheists enjoy eating and drinking as much as anyone, as do they enjoy joining together with dear ones in gratitude for the past year and in anticipation of the next.

This year’s group was small and intimate -just the right size for a Christmas goose to serve as centerpiece of the meal. Guests were expected around 4:00, so that’s when the goose had to go into the oven to be served an hour and a half later.

First course was squash bisque, followed by a lovely salad of mâche, fresh from the garden.

Mâche Salad with Orange and Pomegranate

For 6-8:

Fresh mâche leaves, a healthy amount, rinsed and dried
1 pomegranate, seeded
1 orange, peeled, divided into sections, and cut into bite-sized pieces

Arrange mâche leaves on plate. Sprinkle with pomegranate seeds. Decorate with orange sections. Drizzle with dressing and serve.

Vinaigrette dressing

6 oz hazelnut oil (or extra virgin olive oil)
2 oz seasoned rice wine vinegar
1 t prepared honey mustard

In a bowl, dissolve mustard in vinegar. Whisk in the oil a little bit at a time until smooth and creamy.

The result? A dish of exquisite beauty and delicacy.

We got a fresh goose from Rain Shadow El Rancho. Two days prior, I prepped the goose and set it to dry in the refrigerator, first trimming off the wing tips, cutting out the neck, cutting off the Pope’s nose. For citrus, I used the zest from 8 mandarin oranges that happened to be on hand. I then immediately made the sauce: roast the giblets and goose trimmings along with a quartered onion and a few carrots in a 375° oven until well browned; pour off the goose fat (save that precious fat!), deglaze with a bit of white wine, add stock (we had some nice duck stock in the freezer – commercial chicken stock would work, too) and a bouquet garni, bring to a boil and simmer for a couple of hours. Pour through a strainer into another pot. Carefully spoon off and save the layer of fat that floats to the top. Bring the stock back to a simmer. Dissolve some cornstarch in cold water, whisking with a fork. Pour slowly into simmering stock, whisking with the fork. Repeat, adding additional cornstarch until the stock thickens to your liking, then let cook for a few more minutes.  Store in refrigerator until needed. When it comes time to serve the goose, all you have to do is pour the fat off the roasting pan, deglaze, add the cooking juices to the reheated sauce, stir in and serve.

Our 8½- pound goose went into the oven at 4:00, and was perfectly done by 5:00.

Roast Christmas Goose

Ingredients

• fresh goose
• zest from 4 lemons and 3 limes
• 2 tsp Five-Spice powder
• bouquet garni of parsley sprigs, thyme, sage, bay leaf
• 1 T sea salt
• 1 T freshly crushed black pepper

Preparation

1. Calculate the cooking time (see tips, below). Check the inside of the goose and remove any giblets or pads of fat; pat dry inside and out. Using a sharp knife, lightly score the breast and leg skin in a criss-cross (this helps the fat to render down more quickly during roasting).
2. Grate the zest from the lemons and limes. Mix with 2 tsp sea salt, the five-spice powder and pepper to taste. Season the cavity of the goose generously with salt, then rub the citrus mix well into the skin and sprinkle some inside the cavity.
3. Rub the inside of the goose with the zest/spice mixture and the herb sprigs inside the bird and set uncovered on a rack in a pan in the refrigerator, preferably for 1 or 2 days (this dries the skin, which helps it turn crisp during roasting).
4. Heat oven to 240C (450F), turning the heat down immediately to 190C (375F).
5. Place the bird in the roasting pan, breast side down. Allowing about 7 minutes per pound for roasting; check with an instant reading thermometer as the end approaches so as not to overcook. Turn the goose over (breast-side up) halfway through.
6. When the goose is done (~160° internal temperature, measured at the thickest part of the thigh near the body), remove from oven, take out and discard the bouquet garni. Leave goose to rest for ~30 minutes, covered loosely with foil – the bird will be moist and much easier to carve.

Carving

Take a sharp, long thin-bladed knife and separate breast meat from breastbone; carve breast meat into slices. Detach the legs, then slice off the thigh meat.

Here’s the result.

As an accompaniment, we served mashed potatoes and sauerkraut – and of course, pinot noir and Irina’s bread.

Sauerkraut with apples and pears

2 lb sauerkraut
1 large shallot
1 apple
1 pear
2 T butter
2 t Five Spice powder
12 juniper berries, crushed
1 bay leaf
½ cup white wine (Riesling is perfect)
½ cup chicken stock

Rinse and drain sauerkraut in fresh water 3 times to remove all the curing salt. Chop shallot; peel and dice apple and pear. Sauté shallot in butter until softened and translucent. Add apple and pear and cook for a few minutes. Add sauerkraut and toss well. Add white wine and stock, then add seasonings and bay leaf. Bring to boil, cover, and simmer for ~1 hour.

Dessert was an assortment of traditional German Christmas cookies and stollen, from recipes brought by Irina from the old country. Those are recipes for another time . . .

It’s been a tough year for many of our friends: body parts giving out; sometimes without health insurance; parents becoming frail and forgetful, and even dying; enduring a job with low pay or no benefits, or enduring a job only because it offers the chance to buy health insurance; periods of underemployment or unemployment, with benefits running out;  accidents or unanticipated and expensive repairs that sap limited and dwindling cash reserves. The fraying of our nation’s social fabric is evident in the lives of those we love. Yet there remains beauty and awe in the very mystery of being. As Tiny Tim observed at the end of A Christmas Carol, God Bless Us, Every One!

One advantage of having a great goat dairy in the neighborhood (Fraga Farm) is the ready availability of a by-product: young male goats. While you can’t get milk and make cheese without a doe, almost all bucklings are as redundant as American labor – but unlike unwanted workers, good at least for the table.

Goat cuts closely resemble lamb, only a little smaller. We’ve found that for cooking, you can treat goat just like lamb. And what better than goat loin chops for solstice dinner?

Grilled Goat Chops with Fresh Rosemary and Garlic

For two:

4 goat loin chops, preferably 1¼ – 1½ inches thick
1 clove garlic
1 sprig fresh rosemary
1 T olive oil
1 T tamari
Sea salt and freshly cracked pepper, to taste

Strip the leaves from the sprig of rosemary and chop. Peel and chop the garlic. Mix the rosemary, garlic, olive oil, and tamari in a flat-bottomed container large enough for the goat chops to lie flat. Coat the goat chops on all sides, and add salt and pepper to taste. Let rest at room temperature for an hour or so, or at least while the barbeque is getting hot. Cook until rare or medium rare, turning to get nice crossed grill marks on both sides.

We served the goat chops with small, whole grilled potatoes that we had first par-boiled, and with a salad made with fresh lettuces from the garden with dried tomato chips, toasted squash seeds, crushed hazelnuts, and a hazelnut oil dressing. Simple, local, and festive.

We used to trim the chops of fat before cooking so we won’t have to mess with it at the table. But now, we can’t leave Zooey out – she’s part of the party and deserves not to be ignored. She loves the fatty bits, and potatoes and vegetables too.

And even though the chops had were really small – not more than 4 oz each, with only a couple of ounces of meat – two were plenty for the three of us. We just don’t each much meat any more. So two chops were left over for burritos  the next day, for lunch. Carve off the meat, trim off any fat and gristle, and cut into small cubes; sauté in a bit of olive oil just until warm; and serve in a heated flour tortilla with beans, grated cheese. Yum!

Last spring you planted cabbage seeds; then transplanted the seedlings out to the garden; watered and tended the cabbage plants all summer; harvested the cabbage heads in the fall; shredded and salted the cabbage and pressed it in a big crock.

It’s December, you’ve got a hundred pounds of sauerkraut sitting in the cellar. Now what? How often can you stomach sauerkraut with sausage?

We’ve found that we really like sauerkraut prepared with a variety of meats: pork belly, sausage, ribs of all kinds – pork, beef, lamb – and poultry, especially duck. Duck hindquarters work well, as they are best braised. The other day non-pork eating friends visitd. Sauerkraut with our own Muscovy duck seemed the perfect treat.

Since there were to be eight of us, we used the wings as well as the hindquarters, to ensure we had enough meat to go around.

Sauerkraut with Muscovy Duck

1.5 liters sauerkraut
2 Muscovy ducks
2  medium onions, diced (we substituted leeks)
1 apple, peeled and diced
12 juniper berries, crushed
2 whole cloves
1 small bit nutmeg, crushed
2 bay leaves
1 C duck stock (chicken stock, if you don’t have duck stock)
1 C white wine
Salt and pepper to taste

Rinse sauerkraut well (three times in fresh water) and drain.
Cut wings and hindquarters off carcass. Remove duck breasts and save for another meal. Reserve duck carcass for stock or soup. Trim duck fat and save.
Trim upper part of wing from lower 2/3, reserving middle part and wing tip for soup or stock. Separate leg from thigh; chop thigh into two pieces.
Render duck fat.
Brown duck pieces; when browned, remove.
Add diced onions and cook, stirring, until softened.
Add apple and cook a bit, then sauerkraut. Cook for  a few minutes, stirring.
Splash with white wine; add stock, then browned duck pieces, bay leaf, juniper berries, cloves and nutmeg.
Bring to simmer and cook, covered, for 1½ hours or until duck is tender. Season to taste.
Serve with mashed potatoes and a nice little pinot noir.

Here’s the finished product.

This recipe would work equally well with a stewing chicken, game hens, or a small turkey, and would be even tastier with the addition of some pork or sausage. The possible permutations are endless, offering myriad ways to enjoy your summer garden all winter long.

My sister complained that last week’s missive didn’t have any Thanksgiving photos. Hey, gimme a break – I was trying to get the newsletter out before the event. Anyhow, here you go, Peg!

Here’s the noble bird, before being sliced and served.

That’s a 20 pound, free range turkey from Joe and Karen’s Rain Shadow El Rancho, processed right on site at their own facility that does poultry other area producers as well (including our ducks). The turkey was Joe and Karen’s contribution to the dinner. Isn’t it wonderful to be part of a great community?

The photo shows the beer drinkers’ table. As you can see the beer is pretty local – Deschutes Brewery Black Butte Porter from just over the hill in Bend, smooth and creamy, perfect on a cold day while relaxing snug and toasty by the wood stove. Never fear, the La Ferme Noire Pinot Noir was flowing freely as well.

Each of the 20 guests brought something – in particular, I thought Kim’s chocolate chili was killer, even if it’s not what one might associate with Thanksgiving. It deserves to become a La Ferme Noire tradition – we’ll have to ask Kim for the recipe.

Irina made the beautiful orange soup in the photo.

AUTUMN SQUASH BISQUE WITH GINGER

Ingredients

2 tsp vegetable oil
2 cups sliced onion or leek
2 pounds winter squash, peeled, seeded and cut into 2 inch cubes (= 4 generous cups)
2 pears peeled, cored & diced
2 gloves garlic, peeled and crushed
2 tbsp fresh ginger, peeled and coarsely chopped (or 1 tsp powdered ginger)
½ tsp thyme
4 cups chicken or vegetable broth
1 cup water
1 tbsp lemon juice
½ cup plain non-fat yogurt (Greek yogurt is best)
Salt and pepper to taste

Preparation

1. Heat oil in large pot over medium heat
2. Add onions (leeks) and garlic and cook, stirring constantly until softened, 3-4 minutes
3. Add squash, pears, ginger and thyme, cook for 1 minute, stirring
4. Add broth and water; bring to a simmer
5. Reduce heat to low, cover pot and simmer until squash is tender, 35-45 minutes
6. Purée soup, if necessary in batches, in a food processor or blender
7. Return soup to pot and heat through. Season with salt, pepper and lemon juice; stir
8. Garnish each serving with a spoonful of yogurt

My contribution was to cook the turkey. Here’s how:

Two or three days before cooking:

1. Trim off wing tips, the neck, and Pope’s nose.
2. Dry  turkey inside and out and rub skin and cavity with a mixture of about 2 T coarse sea salt and 1 T of freshly crushed black peppercorns.
3. Put turkey on a rack inside a pan and then uncovered into the refrigerator to dry (this helps the skin to turn crispy during roasting).
4. Right then make the sauce. Throw turkey trimmings and giblets into a roasting pan, along with coarsely chopped carrots, celery, and onion.
5. Roast in a hot (~400°) oven until well browned and caramelized.
6. When turkey bits and vegetables are all well browned, removes from oven and place roasting pan on a burner. Splash in about a quarter bottle of dry white wine (an open bottle of pinot gris was handy) and scrape brown bits off the bottom of the pan with wooden spoon until they are dissolved in liquid.
7. Add chicken or other poultry stock (we had a couple of containers of chicken and duck stock in the freezer – a good quality store-bought stock such as Kirkland is okay, too) until turkey parts and vegetables are immersed and you have enough liquid for your sauce.
8. Add herbs and spices:  parsley, thyme, and bay leaf from the garden, a couple of whole cloves, perhaps a piece of star anise.
9. Bring to a boil and simmer for three hours or so.
10. Strain through a colander into another container and let cool.
11. When settled, spoon off the fat layer on top.
12. Refrigerate stock until ready to use. Having the stock finished on Monday means a lot less fussing when company is around on Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving Day:

1. Take turkey out of the refrigerator in the morning to warm to room temperature before going into the oven.
2. About two hours before serving place turkey, breast-down, on a rack in a roasting pan. Add ~two cups of prepared stock. Put into a pre-heated 450° oven, immediately reducing heat to 375°.
3. 45 minutes later, flip the turkey so it’s breast-side up.
4. About an hour and a half after going into the oven, the turkey will be done. An instant reading thermometer inserted into the thickest part of the flesh where the thigh connects with the body should register 150°. The result: a beautifully browned, tender, moist, and juicy bird.
5. Remove turkey to a warm platter and cover loosely.
6. While the bird rests a bit before slicing, bring the prepared stock and juices from roasting pan to a simmer.
7. Thicken sauce (I like to thicken with corn starch rather than flour – it’s easier to control and I think results in a more refined texture). Put a couple of heaping fork fulls of corn starch into a small container, add cold water, whisk with a fork until dissolved, then drizzle into the simmering stock while stirring. Let cook a couple of minutes until stock thickens.  Repeat until you get the texture you want.
8. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

For ease of carving and serving I first remove the hindquarters from the carcass, and then each breast in one piece.

Then the turkey is a snap to slice. You had to be quick: all the dark meat disappeared first.

And of course we had plenty of Irina’s famous bread, fresh, warm, and crusty from the oven.

Party animals that we all are these days, we had cleaned up and were in bed by nine.

The next day, the turkey carcass and all the leftover bones and trimmings went into the stock pot, along with aromatic vegetables (carrots, onions, and celery), fresh herbs (thyme, parsley, bay leaf), and a couple of whole cloves. A couple or three hours later, I strained the stock, set the bones aside to cool a bit, and put the stock back on the stove. I added a handful of barley (grown by our friends Paul and Nonie), sliced leeks, and diced carrots and turnips, all from the garden. When the turkey bones had cooled enough, I picked off the meat and added that to the pot, and then some diced potatoes. Simmer a bit more, until the potatoes are tender. Et voila! Turkey soup!

We’re now in to December, and we’re still harvesting broccoli, Brussels sprouts, and cauliflower from the garden – in fact, we have a new crop coming on, from the seedlings we transplanted out in August.

It’s pretty nice not to be dependent on the supermarket for vegetables, even in December. And really nice not to have to drive, or to travel at all, to get them. They’re right outside the door, fresh as can be.

This is a guest post by Irina Just.

Readers of Jim’s blog are fully aware that we’ve been planning to build an outdoor brick bread and pizza oven because we simply couldn’t get any home-made bread to come out the way we like it: chewy, stretchy on the inside and very crusty on the outside.

And of course, it wasn’t available in any store here, in our area. The closest we ever came was the La Brea sourdough baguette which we used to buy by the dozen, frozen, from our Lebanon Roth’s grocery store and bake as needed. When Roth’s closed its Lebanon store, there went that source.

I experimented with any and all recipes I could find, collected from friends, the Internet and my old recipe files. I sprayed the oven to create steam, I worked quickly, I kneaded diligently – and it seemed that I worked with a new recipe every week, either with or without my sourdough starter. Not a single one was satisfactory. The breads were good, but they didn’t have the texture I wanted to achieve.

My last resort was an outdoor brick bread oven, fired with wood, to be used once a week for pizza, bread, and chicken (in that order = the order of available heat).

Then one evening we were at our friends Linda and Robert’s house in Scio for dinner. Linda fixed coq au vin. We brought bread and our own wine to contribute, Robert shared his wine. The conversation centered around food and focused on bread. When I was done lamenting my unsatisfactory loaves, Linda asked, “Why not try no-knead bread? It’s easy, and results in a bread that sounds just what you’re looking for.” Now why I hadn’t heard about no-knead bread before? The very next day I dove in – and ended up baking myself right out of a bread oven.

It is an amazing, and amazingly simple recipe. It doesn’t require any fancy equipment, elaborate preparations or muscle power. All you do is mix in a bowl3 cups flour with ¼ tsp instant yeast, 2 tsp salt and 1 5/8 cup lukewarm water, using a wooden spoon or rubber spatula.

Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and let sit in a warm place (warm room temperature, out of any draft) somewhere between 14-20 hours. I place mine on a shelf above our woodstove.

The dough then looks pretty spongy and wet.

Coat your fingers with flour, lift the dough on a floured surface and fold over twice. Cover with plastic, let sit for 15 minutes, and then shape the dough into a ball, using enough flour on your hands to handle the still very sticky dough. Put the ball on the kitchen counter or a cutting board, seam down; sprinkle with more flour, cover loosely with plastic and then with a towel, and let sit on the kitchen counter for up to 2 hours.

During the last 30 minutes start the oven by preheating it to 450 degrees Fahrenheit and put a Dutch oven or any baking dish with a lid inside the oven, so the dish can get hot also. When the oven and the dish are heated, take your dough and place it inside the dish.

Put the lid on and bake for 30 minutes. After 30 minutes, remove the lid.and bake your bread for another 20-30 minutes. Take the bread out of the oven and take or turn it out of the pan to cool a bit (if you can wait!).

THAT’S IT!

Try not to eat the whole loaf all at once (I put on a whole pound after the first 2 loaves). It is very crusty outside, perfectly chewy inside and has those big holes that we all identify with “hearth, artisan” bread.

If you can get bread like this out of an ordinary kitchen oven that can be fired up every day with the turn of a knob, why go through the expense and effort of building a specialized bread oven that, because of the cost and effort of heating with a wood fire, you’d probably only use a couple times a week at most?

If your dish is round, your loaf will be (somewhat) roundish (free style); using an oblong dish will obviously change the shape. I’ve been searching for more shapes with lids, since the lid is the secret to the dish creating its own steam oven.  I have found one great website – www.breadtopia.com, headquartered in Iowa. They carry a round and an oblong clay baker, called La Cloche, a version of the German popular Römertopf. I ordered the oblong clay baker as the round one is on back order right now.

In my e-mail I had asked about the lead-time for that and Eric, the owner of Breadtopia, called me on the phone within minutes of my query and answered my questions personally.  And I got email confirmation that my order had shipped, the very same day. I’m so impressed with this outstanding customer service that I want to spread the word.

Meanwhile, I’ve been experimenting with different types and various ratios of flour:

1. All 3 cups bread flour (King Arthur is the best, I think).
2. 1 ½ cups bread flour – 1 ½ cup hard white winter wheat ground myself with my flour mill, from a friends’ farm just outside Albany.
3. 2 cups of my own milled flour and 1 cup bread flour.
4. And even all 3 cups of my own milled flour.

The results were all good, but the No. 2 version of equal amounts of bread flour and my own milled flour were the best – chewy inside, hard crusty outside, a bit heavier (because of the whole wheat) but not too dense. Next I will experiment with using my sourdough starter as a portion of the dough. Lessen the amount of water to achieve the same texture should theoretically work. Stay tuned!