Foodlore Library
Vash Bench, percussion player in Circled by Hounds (a traditional Irish five-piece band from Portland, Oregon) talks about where to go to find authentic Irish cole cannon on St. Paddy's Day and a little Irish "Craic." Craic is the act of being in a pub; eating and drinking and having fun with your friends. Vash is the chef at Biddy McGraw's pub in Portland. Right before this interview, he served me up a dish of cole cannon: skinned baked potatoes, garlic and kale steamed with malt vinegar.
It felt like winter. The sky was a mottled grey, the wind sharp, and snow kept spitting down on us. But our minds would have none of that; we were squarely focused, full steam ahead, on spring, because the sap was running and it was Maine Maple Sunday, a sure sign of spring in New England–even more sure than the arrival of red-winged blackbirds and crocuses.
The cozy sugar shack: a roomful of Maine's sweet sap
The lovely thing about families is that we all have traditions, which, while we're in the thick of them, seem perfectly normal and just what we do. But sometimes, through no fault of our own, traditions end. Then we are handed bittersweet hindsight, and in seeing our traditions again through fresh, almost naive eyes, we realize the wondrous, unique nature of what we had for so long thought was simply commonplace.
To bawk or not to bawk, that is the question at our house right now. In a few weeks baby chicks will be invading the local seed and feed stores. Fluffy yellow armies of chickens are preparing for battle and my defenses are weak. I really want to grow me some chickens this year. I checked in with the feed store a while back to ask about acquiring chicks and the nice chick man encouraged me to arrive early and often because this year is a chick year, everybody wants some. It seems we’re not alone in our plans to start growing our own food and foul. I have been laid off for a while now and there is a fear in the back of my mind regarding what we’ll do about food if things get tight.
The arrival of fava beans in Tuscany says Spring is here. In late February, many of the vineyards near my house begin planting fava between rows of grapevines, and by early April, the plants have grown full. Long, lush, green rivers sprawl across the countryside fixing the nitrates in the soil and, more importantly, providing a tasty treat.
Montana rancher: Kim Summers, cattle rancher from Gold Creek, Montana."Wake up Jenie, it's time to milk the cow." Was I dreaming, or did I just hear my high school friend's voice waking me in the wee hours of the morning to milk a cow? In the night, did the sleep fairy visit, endowing me with bloomers and a gingham dress and bonnet. Have I become Laura Ingalls Wilder? Am I on the prairie?
Last Monday Chizuko and I were invited by a friend, S-san, to try making buckwheat noodles (soba そば, in Japanese) at her home. Soba making is one of several hands-on activities that a group in Ōtaki is beginning to develop for tourists. So, this time was a kind of trial run, I suppose.
![]()
A few weeks ago, I joined a group of fungi fanatics at the Yachats Mushroom Festival in Yachats, Oregon. Read on to hear about my adventures.
Flocks of geese honked their way over South Jordan. Darkness descended, crickets launched a countryside chorus—but nothing distracted the group listening to Heidi Williams and Patricia Messer, the Late Bloomin’ Heirloom tomato ladies.
He says Julia Child recognized his spuds at Higgins in Portland
I took this video this summer at the farmer's market in Portland. This is Gene, "the potato man" from Joseph, Oregon, (5 hours northeast of Portland) and his son Patrick. Gene tells how Julia Child ate his potatoes at Higgins in Portland and recognized where they came from right off the batt. The father and son sell heirloom varieties of potatoes, garlic and carrots, among other veggies.