Jakob's Bowl

It’s In the Bag(uette)

“Wheat, n. A cereal from which a tolerably good whiskey can with some difficulty be made, and which is used also for bread. The French are said to eat more bread per capita of population than any other people, which is natural, for only they know how to make the stuff palatable.”

The Devil's Dictionary (1911)
Ambrose Bierce

Back before I started this blog, I had envisioned doing at least one post, if not several on the ‘artisan’ bread situation here in the Pacific Northwest. I even considered some comparative tastings between the bakers here in Seattle and those in Portland, but over the last eight months it seemed like it would be a waste of time and effort given the ever shifting variables involved in the contemporary ‘artisan’ bakery scene here. The growing number of bakeries in the Seattle over the last four years has had me on quite a rollercoaster ride between expectations and realizations, the variability in the quality of bread has tied my mind and my palate in knots.

Things had gotten so estranged that my routine for much of 2008 was to bring back a rustic loaf from either Ken’s Artisan Bakery or the Pearl Bakery or a focaccia slab from little t american baker in Portland every other weekend while I enjoyed Pain de Campagne from Seattle’s Dahlia Bakery in between. This bread stasis was disturbed early in 2009, when I got my first totally mediocre loaf from Ken’s Artisan Bakery - the country brown loaf had a poorly formed crust. This made me realize that there was obviously a difference in skill or quality control from shift to shift. Even more distressing was the fact that the Dahlia’s Pain de Campagne started coming out flattened and dense on a regular basis, suggesting problems similar to those at the have been plaguing the Tall Grass Bakery for years. Needless to say, I ate less bread last year.

Vulcan's Sicilian Legacy: Carricante

My first exposure to the white wines of Sicily this past year were two IGT Sicilia from the southeast of Sicily in the region around Ragusa - COS Rami, a blend of Inzolia and Grecanico, which was unimpressive, and Gulfi Carjcante, a blend of Carricante and Albanello, which was most impressive in its richness and complexity. Carricante is believed to be indigenous to Sicily and today can mainly be found cultivated on the slopes of Mt. Etna in eastern Sicily. The Carricante vines used to produce the Gulfi wine were grafted over a decade ago from the best Carricante vines growing on the slopes of Mount Etna. Since the Gulfi wine was given the name Carjcante, ‘Carricante’ in the local Sicilian dialect, I was under the impression that it was the grape providing most of the substance to the blend. As it turns out, this isn’t necessarily the case, but Carricante is considered the more important of the two grapes. As a matter of fact the Etna DOC region requires Etna Bianco to have at least 60% Carricante and Etna Bianco Superiore at least 80% - so Carricante was added to my list.

Some Itsy Bitsy Amish

I was tempted to chance the variable Pacific Northwest winter and drive down to the Hillsdale Farmers’ Market by the opportunity to buy some organic white polenta from Ayers Creek Farm. But this just wasn’t any ground corn, it was ground popcorn, specifically ground Amish Butter (aka Pennsylvania Dutch Butter Flavor, I believe). I am a sucker for white polenta and white grits, and Anthony’s description of the ground Amish Butter popcorn, besides being very enticing, put another piece of the real ‘corn’ puzzle in place for me:

Amish butter also makes a good white polenta. Interestingly, popcorn is not ground for meal in the US, and for no good reason. The Italians grow several landraces of popcorn, or everta types to botanists. The popcorn ear is conical and looks like pine cone, and the individual kernels resemble pine nuts, so these varieties are called pignolo or pignoletto. In Italy the kernels are ground for meal to use as a polenta or in cookies, just like other types of corn.

Add Hock…And Simmer

It’s the middle of winter, and what more can you ask for than smoked pork flesh, cabbage, and beans. As I set the organic Purgatorio beans from Ayers Creek Farm to soaking, I added my smoked pork hock from The Swinery to a pot with half an onion, six garlic cloves, two bay leaves, two cloves, and ten black peppercorns, covered everything with water and started the pot to simmer. After about 4-1/2 hours, the meat started to fall off the bone and I let the pot cool. I pulled all of the remaining solids out of the pot and poured the liquid through a fine mesh sieve – because of all of the skin and connective tissue the stock was unctuous. Later that evening, I defatted the stock and after removing the remaining skin and fat, shredded the meat.

The next day, I quartered and sliced three medium leeks and chopped two medium carrots and four cloves of garlic. I added these to a pot with the drained the Purgatorio beans, the shredded ham hock, and the ham stock. I added a bouquet garni containing a bay leaf, black peppercorns, parsley stems, and a clove. I also added enough water to make sure all of the solids were submerged, covered the pot and brought it to a simmer. After about 75 minutes of simmering, I added the shredded Savoy cabbage, - more than one half of a medium head - and then simmered for an additional 45 minutes more. I finished the dish with walnut oil and Aleppo pepper flakes. Talk about rib sticking and satisfying - the sweetness of the cabbage, the creaminess of the beans and the smoky ham hock, and day two should be even better.

Unholy Frijoles

As you might have guessed from previous posts, I am a fanatic about heirloom legumes and was fairly proud of finding some of the best here in the USA and in Europe to sell online. Several weeks ago The Most Famous Bean in Spain, by Maggie Schmitt, on the Atlantic Food Channel hit my google reader, and after reading alubia de Tolosa in the short excerpt, I assumed that the article was about the Spanish Tolosana bean, the tasty cinnamon and burgundy colored heirloom beans that I used to sell. When I clicked on the link and saw the article it hit me like a ton of bricks. This holiest of holies from the Basque country was actually a small, purplish-black bean with a white dot that I had never heard of or seen before - just when you think you’ve got the whole world…

These beans are gorgeous, but it's difficult to tell from this image borrowed from Slow Foods - the image in Ms. Schmitt’s piece is much more telling than.  The beans have not only achieved D.O status in Spain but also inclusion in the Slow Food Ark of Taste. After reading background information on the Slow Food website and the Babarruna Tolosako Elkartea (BTE - Tolosa Bean Growers Association), I began salivating. (Slow Foods gets a little carried away, attributing ‘indigenous’ status and cultivation in the Basque Country to this New World food six centuries prior to Columbus arriving here! The BTE mentions this possibility but recognizes the likelihood of its first cultivation in the 16th Century.) Searching for a source here in the USA, I first ran across a mention of the bean in a piece by none other than Anthony Boutard at Ayers Creek Farm. I actually asked Anthony about these beans the last time I visited their booth, and he told me that he discontinued growing them because of their propensity to cross-pollinate - like other members of the black turtle bean family - with any and all other beans. In that same search, I arrived at the Spanish specialty food purveyor La Tienda, and the reason for this post.

Turkish Delight in Oregon: Sivri Aci Chiles

Up until very recently, I had come to know and love three different ground chile peppers (biber) from Turkey, the purple/black Urfa biber, the crimson Marash biber, and the scarlet Aleppo biber - although the region around the Syrian city of Aleppo is known for its Aleppo peppers, I suspect that most of the dried ground Aleppo that makes it to the USA is grown in Turkey. In all three cases it was love at first bite: the oily Urfa with its mild heat and notes of tobacco and prune, the mild to medium heat Marash with its fruity flavor and hints of smoke, and the medium heat Aleppo with its complex and tangy ‘chile’ flavor and that never overpowers its flavor - the latter has totally supplanted Piment d’Espelette in my cooking. I enjoyed talking about them in the shop juts about as much as cooking with them. Always worried about my supply, I just wondered why no one cultivated these varieties closer to home.