Notice the new header on this page? The Rainier cherries? Those are Rainier cherries from my very own backyard tree. That stated, they are obviously fundamentally far superior to all others…that is obvious right? We spent a solid couple hours this weekend picking away and ended up with a handsomely huge bowlful-I think we may have scored about 5 pounds worth. Unfortunately, this translates to me having rampant diarrhea for the next couple weeks as I go through copious amounts of fruit. Its horrendously uncomfortable but well worth it- unsettled bowels are nothing in the face of home grown Rainiers. The bigger problem is that I cant help thinking of more cherries ripening, the branches growing heavy as I write and damn if that doesnt kill me- waste is a tragedy and harvest has become a bit of an obsession. As it is my house is littered with stems and seeds…I make little piles to clean up later as I go along snacking. Its getting ugly…maybe I should spend my day collecting seeds and stems off the furniture instead of pulling down more fruit.

Friday found me at Woolley Farms spending time with the ever so hospitable Tom Gibson out in Sedro Woolley, Wa (more details on that later). I left the farm that day, my pockets swollen with souvenirs- snap peas, herbs, edible flowers, a comically miniature carrot (a joke for Tom, the farmer, since his attempt to grow carrots obviously didn’t turn out so well), also a package of Toms shoulder bacon made from his beautiful Tamworth pigs. Word is there are only 300 Tamworth breeding sows IN THE WORLD…meaning Woolley Farms owns 1% of the entire population. I thought that was pretty extraordinary. Anyway..they are gorgeous pigs and yes yes more on them later. What I was most stoked about was the gift of a large, lovely duck egg. Read the rest »

Its a problem when one fails to grease a loaf pan thoroughly. I kind of half-assed it and consequently ended up with my lovely pound cake going to shit as I attempted to coerce it out in one piece. Ah well, not so pretty presentation wise but it still tasted fantastic. The batter itself was as sweet and soft as vanilla pudding- licking the spoon clean being the peak of my morning. Well, that and the beer I swilled along with it…pound cake batter + the Elysian’s Perseus Porter= the breakfast of champions (or of the gluttonous hobo). Hell of a way to start the day, believe me. How had I failed to grasp the vast potential of my morning meal up until this point? I mean really…oatmeal?? Tragic. This sugar/alcohol combo was an astronomical improvement from my usual hot cereal/fresh fruit routine. As for the chips, there are few recipes that wouldn’t benefit from the addition of chocolate (and those few, I feel, are debatable)-here it added chocolaty bitterness, a nice juxtaposition to the sugar. Unexpectedly, the chocolate settled toward the bottom of the loaf which really was fine but initially triggered my temper. I blame any irrational emotional outbursts on my being a lousy drunk. Whatever the case, all hard feelings quickly dissipate when faced with thick slices of warm, gooey, buttery pound cake pregnant with melty chocolate chips. Read the rest »

Thursday night- over at a friends house to get schooled in the art of making pasta. I dont know too many folks that make their own noodles so Ive always considered Sean an exceptional human being based on his pasta prowess alone. What makes him so extraordinary is the fact that not only does Sean make pasta but he makes it regularly. He probably makes it as often as I make toast…his comfort level betrays ample experience. Letting go of any feelings of intimidation, I resolutely want in on this whole casual pasta making bit. This little production is of course old hat to Sean as we set up to get started. Flour in a bowl, make a little ditch for the eggs…slowly stirring it together with a fork until we can roll it in our hands. We make two different types- one plain, the other with spinach mixed into the base. Read the rest »

I am damn lucky to have a chicken raising neighbor and a bountiful farmers market nearby. These sources assure that my eggs are indeed good eggs. At the grocery co op, I’ll meander by the numerous cartons, each extolling the virtues of the chicken…some, I find,  are labeled “vegetarian” while some specify “vegetarian feed”. On farms or otherwise, I’m pretty sure that I’ve never met a truly vegetarian chicken..well, mostly because chickens are not vegetarians. Chickens eat insects, cows eat grass (not grain, not corn- grass) etc. etc. That is very much the natural order of things. Read the rest »

Its not that Cave B isn’t gorgeous… because it is. It absolutely, positively, truly is. It shares a view with the Gorge Amphitheater and if you’ve ever been out for a concert you know what to expect. The panorama resembles a watercolored backdrop… I feel compelled to touch it. Rows upon rows of impeccably manicured grape vines lead up to the modern buildings that house the restaurant, inn, and spa. For some reason, I was caught off guard by the luxury of it. To me, Eastern Washington is this state’s own Wild West…I think cowboys, rodeo, dry heat, cacti, wild horses and farm communities..well, Cave B quickly dismantled my outlook. Read the rest »

Indian food is what I crave, want, favor, study and love more than any other type of cuisine. I’ve tried just about every restaurant in Seattle and when traveling tend to shop around as well. New York City- in the West Village was the last place I experienced a truly great Indian meal. Since then I’ve resigned myself to cooking at home, mostly because the establishments in Seattle have rated sub par in my book. Until this past weekend. Jesus Christ…finding Mehak Indian Cuisine is the equivalent of a family of fantastically talented Indian cooks moving in next door. Read the rest »

Tuesday morning and I’m in route to pick up Karissa. The traffic signals are too bright, the racket of a city coming to life- too loud…I’m slowly, very slowly, adjusting to being awake. My eyes are sticky, my hair pulled into a half ass’d slept-in ponytail and the crease imprint of my pillow is still embedded pink on my cheek. Its a rough start that is easily forgotten the moment she gets into the car. The next four hours are lost to spirited conversation, eye watering gut wrenching laughs, coffee in Portland, Thai food off a highway exit and everything else that consistently reaffirms my absolute adoration for my best friend. We re headed to Breitenbush Hot Springs 4 to 5 hours South of Seattle, outside Detroit OR. Ive been coming to Breitenbush solo for the past 3 years. A unique escape – when the urgency to fall off the map for a bit hits, these hot springs catch me like a cradle. Tucked up in the mountains, Breitenbush Hot Springs boasts the atmosphere of a welcoming commune rather than a vacation get-a-way. Here, you wont find internet connection or cell phone reception, you wont find TV or radio- hell, even the electric usage is at a minimum. But what you will find is a quiet so deep that the rivers gurgle begins to sound like a hymn, air so crisp that it feels as though you’ve only experienced restricted breathing until this point and folks so peaceful, so kind that you feel your cynicism toward the human race weaken. Breitenbush is a glimpse into Utopian society. Read the rest »

I considered rescheduling. Drinking coffee at the kitchen window, watching the rain come down in dollops…I figured this was no day for a farm tour. Logic, however, holds no weight in the face of my restlessness. The very idea of staying indoors that morning, my farm visit foiled in part to another soggy Seattle day was enough to shoot me out the door. Mt. Vernon is about an hour and a half North and the first two-thirds of the drive were miserable. Why? Because people continuously baffle me by way of their ineptitude. In a city that is steeped in rain most of the year, the majority still have trouble driving in it…its fucking unbelievable really. Alas, as I got closer the sky dried up and so did my temper. Maneuvering my way down narrow dirt roads, acres of farm land sprawling on all sides, I go slow enough to attempt to decipher what these fields contain as well as avoid any run ins with animals or potholes . And then up…up a steep gravel driveway, bouncing along…finally arriving at Hidden Meadow Ranch greeted by a pair of dogs that are less than thrilled with a stranger pulling onto the property. Read the rest »

We took a greyhound bus around the states for a month. Mini & I, fresh out of high school climbed aboard with only backpacks and a 30 day pass to get on any bus to any where within the continental US. It was dirty and tiring, exhilarating and crazed…overall extraordinary. To this day I cant believe Mini’s parents went for it. California, Arizona, Iowa…and the most memorable of all places- New Orleans, Louisiana. This city, so rich in history and so thick with culture. There was a peculiar ambiance, a texture to the air. I’m just going to say it…call me batshit crazy if you want- it felt fucking haunted. Not in an alarming way really, it surprisingly didn’t creep me out. Here I was in the home of voodoo, mosquitoes the size of catchers mits and the lovely, delicious Cafe Du Monde. Read the rest »