Jakob's Bowl

The Blush Is Off Summer

It seems as if blush wines have flooded the market here over the last four or five years with Rosé, Rosato, Rosado, and more stacked high in wine shops and supermarkets from May until September. This is a far cry from fifteen years ago when the casual wine drinkers here were still repelled by blush wines, a negative reaction to all that white Zinfandel from the late1980s. As a result, a relatively small number Rosés from the South of France predominated, and those who knew the secret of French pink wine were able to buy all they wanted for $12 to $15 with only one or two approaching $20 in some parts of the country. I came to drink a lot of Mas de Gourgonnier Rosé from Les Baux De Provence and Domaine Tempier Bandol Rosé, the latter of which could still be purchased for under $19 when I moved to Seattle in the late nineties.

When the Dollar collapsed against the Euro, the prices for my favorites began to rise precipitously. At about the same time a lot more people in this country realized that well made pink wine was ‘real’ wine after all, and higher demand for these limited production wines created a certain amount of scarcity. When the Domaine Tempier began to approach $30, I began to search for substitutes - it would eventually approach $40. Fortunately the increased demand meant more imports, and I think it encouraged more wine makers to produce simple blush wines, many who had no real clue. At first I gravitated to Rosé from the Loire, mainly 100% Cabernet Franc, and it was either hit or miss, at every price point. I eventually tried blush wines from Spain, Italy, and here in the USA, more often than not single varietals or two grape blends with more misses than hits.

What's The Frikeh Problem?

When I started to visit the Hillsdale Farmer’s Market just outside of Portland last summer, mainly to buy produce, preserves, polenta and dried beans from Ayers Creek Farm, they were still offering frikef, a traditionally processed and dried green wheat – usually made from ‘hard’ durum wheat - that has been a staple in the Middle East and North Africa for over a millennium. I had never heard of it before, but it really didn’t interest me that much. I had cooked with wheat berries, whole grain faro, and spelt before, and none of them high on my list.

As summer progressed the controversy over farmers processing foods in the open air hit. Even though farmers in Oregon had been drying garlic, beans, corn and other grains in the open air since there had been farmers in the state, it seemed that the Oregon department of agriculture thought it would be more sanitary to move everything into certified production facilities, a cost which would put many farmers out of business. Armed with a strict interpretation of the state agriculture regulations, the state inspectors targeted the Ayers Creek Farm frikeh, and it disappeared from their stall. Of course, this is when I became very interested in frikeh. The Boutards, and all of the small holding farmers, were very concerned since they process a lot of organic corn, wheat, and beans.

Needless to say I was completely surprised to see bags of frikeh in the Ayers Creek Farm booth last week. Well it seems as if a lot of voices were raised over the issue, and the state had developed a more reasonable position, one that didn’t discourage people from farming. Anthony and Carol said that it was the best frikeh that they ever produced, and they both believed that it was because they used soft red wheat this year instead of the usual hard durum. I bought a bag, and I am just now getting around to planning my first taste. As with every ‘traditional’ Mediterranean ingredient, my first source for information is Clifford Wright’s amazing opus A Mediterranean Feast (1999), and there it was, farik, aka firik, aka frikat, aka frikeh. Along with bit of history, there were four recipes, including Pigeon with Farikh (Egypt), Firik Pilaf (Turkey), Farik and Bone Marrow Soup (Tunisia), and Lamb with Frikat (Syria). The wheels are turning. (More on turning 'green' wheat into frikeh later.)

Am I Blue?...& Stinky

Last weekend in Portland I ran across cheeses from Wisconsin from Hook’s Cheese, a cheese maker that I was unfamiliar with. This really didn’t surprise me since most artisan cheese gets consumed in the region of its production. However, when I got home and found out that they had been making cheese since 1976, and winning awards for many of them, I was a bit embarrassed. On the other, had I done my research first, I may never have even bothered to taste the cheese. I generally avoid cheese makers that make a lot of different European style cheeses, especially if they don’t have any cows of their own to milk. Hook’s produces somewhere around forty different cheeses, including nine ‘flavored’ cheeses, an even bigger ‘no no,’ for me.

I was in Steve’s Cheese’s new location, The Cheese Bar, waiting to taste more of the Tails & Trotters hazelnut finished prosciutto, and I decided to taste a few cheeses. I saw two different blue cheeses from Hook’s, Tilston Point Blue and Hook’s Blue, both made from cows’ milk, - not my first, or second, choice of milk for blue cheese - but I thought I would give at least one a try. The cheese monger described the difference between the two, and the fact that the Tilston Point Blue was also washed to develop a fuller flavor cinched it for me. Stinky, washed rind cheeses are much higher on my list of favorites than most blue cheeses, so the concept of a stinky, washed blue cheese excited me. The pungent, warm flavor and creamy texture were a revelation, and so I bought a small piece.

Hook’s makes their cheeses in Mineral Point, in southwestern Wisconsin. Unfortunately, their website isn’t very informative, and so there isn’t a lot I can tell you about the details of the Tilston Point Blue’s production. Tilston is an anagram for Stilton and the cheese is an homage to that great English cheese, and one they can be proud of. The cheese is made from pasteurized milk purchased from local, small-holding dairy farmers who raise their herds in a sustainable fashion, but it isn’t clear what breeds are involved. The Tilston Point Blue is aged for a year and washed, but it’s unclear what they wash it with. - the exterior of the wheel is coated in an orange-brown stickiness. They obviously learned quickly, since they’ve only been making blue cheese since 1997.

The bottom line is that the flavor and texture of this cheese seems to combine the best of both world’s, blue and washed-rind. Stinky, smooth, and creamy, it has a enticing warmth on the finish - think Alsatian Muenster without the bitter finish. While many reviews refer to a nutty flavor, for me, it comes across as toasted pumpkin seed. It is positively addictive…bravo!

It Was Colonel Plum In The Orchard...

My pre-'plum season' depression happens every year, mainly because the markets here in the Pacific Northwest carry plums from California almost a month before the local season begins, and they do a terrible job in selling them. Even though many of the markets will indicate the individual varieties of peaches and nectarines, it is always, “black” plums, “red” plums, “yellow” plums, and “green” plums. And don’t get me started on the subject of pluots. Fortunately, many of our local farmers are not asleep at the wheel, and they are still growing and promoting a great variety of heirloom plums.

Some of the early season varieties began showing up a few weeks back, albeit a bit under-ripened, but I am a sucker or plums. First came the Amber Jewels (upper left) and the Duarte (upper right), and this week I found two Japanese heirlooms, the Satsuma (lower left) and the Shiro (lower right) both of which were picked at their peak. The yellow flesh varieties have a nice flavor, but for me they cannot compete with the more complex flavor of the reddish-purple fleshed varieties - I think sometimes the color also acts as a flavor enhancer.

Parlez Vous Sardine?

I suppose this is a bit of an addendum to my International Sardine School post earlier this year. After tasting the Connétable sardine fillets, I was reminded of how good traditional Breton tinned sardines were. While today’s processing standards involve using frozen fish - often caught thousands of miles away - and ‘steam’ cooking them ‘traditional’ Breton tinned sardines are locally caught, processed fresh, and then cooked and packed in olive oil. They are head and shoulders above all others in terms of flavor and texture and this is why the French treat tinned sardines as a delicacy whereas the rest of the world treats them like a commodity.

On my last trip to Paris over an eon ago, I brought back a half dozen tins to try and understand the French zeal for these little fish, as described by Patricia Wells in her book on Parisian eateries. My epiphany took only one fish, and in my position as buyer, I immediately tried to arrange a shipment of vintage and non-vintage sardines and mackerel through one of my favorite importers. I wanted to share my experience with our customers. As I negotiated price and quantity, the Dollar dropped precipitously against the Euro, and the vintage sardines would have retailed for close to $10 for a four-ounce tin. Selling Breton sardines in this country became impractical, and I moved on to other things.

Tony's Baloney

Last night I was channel surfing and stopped on a recently aired episode of the new season of Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations. Tony was in Rome, and even before the question of how he would reconcile Italian culinary tradition with last season's poorly written and spiteful San Francisco episode popped into my head, I had my answer. I only had to watch for a few minutes when Tony began verbally dancing out of the corner in which he painted himself last season with the sole purpose of trashing Alice Waters.

I realized that the production schedule for No Reservations probably bore no resemblance to the broadcast schedule, so I didn’t find it odd last season to see middle-class and well-to-do Venitians and Sardinians supporting local farmers whose families had been sustainably growing produce and livestock for hundreds of years. Following ancient custom and the rhythms of the seasons led to ‘a little bit of heaven on earth’ to paraphrase Tony’s exuberance in those episodes. Northern Californians who supported the 'local’ and 'sustainable' at Farmers’ Markets, on the other hand, were elitists. At the time, I assumed that the San Francisco episode was produced after those in Sardinia and Venice.

Last night I could hear Tony doing his best to reconcile the modern Romans’ passion for local, seasonal ingredients with those people in this country who feel the same way. It seems that the Romans don’t talk about 'local,' 'sustainable,' and 'seasonal;' they just just follow their heritage and...eat them. However, since the folks in the Bay Area talk about these things ad nauseum, and spend countless hours blogging about them, they are 'elitists'! But then again, doesn’t Tony spend more time talking about food than eating it!

Now, I suppose we should forgive Tony for not remembering that the Romans have unbroken culinary traditions that stretch back a thousand years or more, while in this country, Big Ag, Big Food, and the Mega Supermarket have done their best over the last three decades not just to disrupt our culinary traditions, but also make us feel that the way food was produced and consumed in the past was inefficient, unhealthy, and not nearly as tasty. The local and sustainable movements in this country are trying to revitalize the farming and culinary traditions that almost disappeared, and 'word of mouth' is the only advertising they can afford to compete with the ubiquitous supermarket and big box store.

I still cannot figure out why Tony neglected to show us where the underclass in Venice, Sardinia, and now Rome buy their food, since he took such great pains to do so with the underclass in the Bay Area last year…