Two farmers, Kat Topaz and Jim Abeles, stand in a rutted field. Jim's arm is around Kat's shoulders and a caption floats over their heads that reads, "We need your help." Tearily, Kat says, "It doesn't feel right to be sharing bad news, but it's at that point we need help."

What bad news is this homey farm couple talking about?

Jim explains, "DLCD, the [Oregon] Department of Land Conservation and Development, has come out with a policy recommendation that if it's adopted later this year will make it virtually impossible for agritourism to survive."

"The DLCD rules will put the nails in the coffin for us," adds Kat.

Jim continues, "If you enjoy u-pick, if you enjoy farm-to-table dinners, if you enjoy pumpkin patches, if your kids enjoy a hayride or cow train, these are the kind of things that we and other farms are going to lose."

It certainly sounds dire.

The video has gone viral, not just locally, but has been reposted on the feed of at least one nationally recognized influencer. With so much injustice happening around us every day, from Los Angeles to Gaza, it's not surprising that a tearful plea from local farmers pulls at our sympathies.

But it's not what it purports to be.

Alice Morrison, co-director of Friends of Family Farmers, an advocacy organization for Oregon's small farmers, said she wasn't surprised at the outrage the video has generated. "I totally understand that if what they were being told was 100 percent true, I'd be furious, too," she said.

"These rules do not outlaw farm stands, ban u-pick, or prohibit on-farm events.
This is only to do with farm stand permits, and has no bearing on all the other types of agritourism permits which allow on-farm concerts, festivals, private events, etc."

Morrison, however, knows that it isn't entirely accurate—or as one wag put it, it's "truth-adjacent." That's because Morrison has been on the Rulemaking Advisory Committee (RAC) for the DLCD since a legislative working group decided that the sweeping changes proposed for farm stands in the 2025 legislative session in HB 3133 would be better dealt with in the rulemaking process.

In a statement FoFF released on its blog directly addressing the sturm und drang generated by the Topaz Farm video, it states:

"These rules do not outlaw farm stands, ban u-pick, or prohibit on-farm events. This is only to do with farm stand permits, and has no bearing on all the other types of agritourism permits which allow on-farm concerts, festivals, private events, etc. Regulations on agritourism vary by county and we do intend to address that discrepancy as well, but this RAC is only about farm stands."

So what's really going on?

On its website, Topaz Farm lists myriad activities like classes in pickling, dyeing using plants growing on the farm, farm tours, farm-to-plate dinners and more. Then there are the crops they grow, including berries, pumpkins, greens, onions, garlic, tomatoes, potatoes…the list is long.

Topaz Farm is not answering questions about the video, instead referring callers to Samantha Bayer, the General Counsel at the Oregon Property Owners Association (OPOA), which describes its mission as"protect[ing] the right of private property owners to make use of their property. At the legislature and ballot box, in the courts, working with the media, and through our many educational efforts, OPOA works to reduce the regulatory barriers that hamper Oregon’s private property owners."

Interestingly, the OPOA is using startlingly similar messaging to that used in the Topaz Farm video, getting traction with headlines like "DLCD’s Farmstand Rulemaking: A Critical Moment for Fate of Agritourism." Oregonians who've followed legislative politics will recall the name Dave Hunnicutt, OPOA's president, as being connected with past anti-tax campaigns and other efforts to undercut Oregon's groundbreaking land use laws. On the OPOA website Hunnicutt is described as “a registered Oregon lobbyist" who "has successfully advocated for the passage of legislation to protect Oregon property owners."

The deadline of July 25th to submit comments is also not accurate, according to FoFF's Morrison. "It hasn't even gone through legal review yet," she said in an interview, noting that the draft is just the first step in the revised rule-making process. Public comment can be sent to DLCD until Nov 7, and FoFF anticipates more amendments to these drafts are coming before formal public meetings in the fall where the public will have the opportunity to respond to the proposed rules.

Morrison said that FoFF is particularly encouraged by the emphasis on educational activities that are proposed in the new farm stand classification, as well as the effort to clarify the rules across Oregon's 36 counties, which are currently not enforcing the standards consistently due to the vagueness of the current language. Morrison also considers the effort to differentiate farm-produced products from what are termed "incidental products" a priority (see FoFF's blog post for details). Morrison adds that although progress has been made in these areas, FoFF does see some areas for concern in the current proposal especially around proposed premit review cycles and costs.

Find a comprehensive breakdown of the proposed rules with context and analysis of the issues on the Friends of Family Farmers blog.

This is a developing story, so stay tuned for updates!

Top photo from Topaz Farm video. Aerial photo of Topaz Farm from their public Facebook page.

Like so many entrepreneurs, Hildner wondered, "Is it a bad idea, or is it brilliant?"

When Traci Hildner wanted to open a brick-and-mortar space to teach food preservation and cooking classes through her Lucky Larder cooking school—having already spent more than a decade teaching classes at farmers' markets, New Seasons markets and Portland Community College—she knew she'd need an additional source of revenue to pay the rent.

But what would that be?

A café? A cookbook store? A commercial kitchen to help small producers bring products to market, making use of her masters degree in teaching and certification as a Master Food Preserver and Family Food Educator for Oregon State Extension Services?

Recalling the winnowing process, Hildner said, "I'd always loved shopping 'used.' There are just things you don't need to buy new," listing "cars, bikes, clothes, and the uniqueness of vintage things."

"I also always loved kitchen stores," she said, having worked the retail side at places like Williams Sonoma and Kitchen Kaboodle. Inspired by local outlets like Next Adventure, Foster Outdoor and the vintage record stores lining Southeast Foster Road, she mused about offering a selection of high quality used kitchenware and equipment, but like so many entrepreneurs, wondered, "Is it a bad idea, or is it brilliant?"

Fortunately it turned out to be the latter.

Celebrating its third anniversary at its current location on Southeast Foster, Kitchen Culture brands itself as "a unique kitchen store, offering a constantly evolving selection of used and new cookware, dinnerware, glassware, kitchen tools, and cookbooks through our consignment program."

Opened with items collected from her own inventory of treasures gleaned from years of collecting, Hildner said the success of Kitchen Culture's consignment program has evolved from an add-on meant to supplement the income from cooking classes to becoming much more central to the character and financial stability of the business.

In designing the consignment program, Hildner said her own experience taught her that, as silly as it may sound to non-cooks, people have an emotional attachment to their kitchenware and, when the time comes to pass it on, want it go to someone who will love it, too. More than 80 percent of her inventory comes from the consignment side, but she also stocks new items like kitchen towels, oven mitts, aprons and the like, many produced by local artisans.

The current roster of upcoming classes held at the store and taught by Hildner and other local culinary educators include Pressure Canning, Water Bath Canning, Essential Knife Skills, Basic Breads, Sourdough Baking, and Egg Pasta & Summer Sauces, Fermentation Basics and more. Plus there's a schedule of regular events like Knife Sharpening and KitchenAid Mixer Refurbishing.

Hildner describes Kitchen Culture as a community space, and as part of that mission she has worked with the Foster-Powell Neighborhood Association to coordinate meal service for Lilac Meadows, a nearby shelter. You can register to help prepare a meal and have a fun afternoon doing something good for the local community. Cost is a sliding scale from free to whatever you can contribute.

In previous posts I've written about my love of cookbooks and my admiration-verging-on-adoration for the inimitable Julia Child. When my friend Mary Bartlett—chef, author, bon vivant and part-time resident of Portland and Paris where she co-hosted the legendary Sunday Suppers held at Jim Haynes atelier in the City of Light—posted the following essay on her Facebook page, I immediately asked if I could repost it here. Mary generously acceded.

"Beautiful!"

"Delicious!"

"Marvelous."

"Go very lightly on the brown sugar."

"My favorite!"

(Scribblings in my cookbook.)

Boston. 1969. An aunt gives me Mastering the Art of French Cooking by Julia Child, Simone Beck and Louisette Bertholle. I had just returned from a year in France as a college student and felt passionate about French food. This book, a best-ever gift, battle-worn, stained, and shredded, remains precious to me over half a century later.

First published by Knopf in 1961, Mastering the Art of French Cooking introduced French cuisine to Americans. In the foreword, Julia (and she was the principal author) says this:

"This is a book for the servantless American cook who can be unconcerned on occasion with budgets, waistlines, time schedules, children's meals, the parent-chauffeur-den mother syndrome, or anything else which might interfere with the enjoyment of producing something wonderful to eat."

For many Americans, French cooking was perceived to be overly rich, heavy, too fancy and full of weird things (like a lot of liver). Julia's book explained that a typical French menu was composed of several courses. People didn't have three helpings of mashed potatoes or a two-pound steak. They ate smaller quantities with plenty of variety.

Over time, as cooking shows proliferated and a quick internet search delivered any recipe, cookbooks in general have become passé. While Mastering the Art of French Cooking  has sold over 1.5 million copies, it's hard to imagine most people taking the time to read and study it now. But Julia Child herself continues to play a large part—through television shows and series—in American popular culture.

The meals prepared by the French family I lived with in 1968 were typical: very small breakfasts (bread and coffee), lunch with several courses including cheese and dessert, and a light dinner (often soup, bread and salad). Children had gouter or a snack, often  an éclair or a pain au chocolat after school, but otherwise there was no snacking. The main meal varied between lunch and dinner depending on work and school schedules but a full Sunday lunch was customary and often included grandparents.

One funny memory: In my French family's house, there was always a large saucepan simmering on the back of the stove which contained various scraps and bones. When I asked, I was told "C'est la soupe du chien." It was the dog's soup and that is what the dog was fed. Nothing was wasted.

Reading Mastering the Art requires patience and plenty of time. There are no shortcuts and the recipes are followed by copious recommendations for accompaniments. As an example, the chapter on leg of lamb is fifteen pages long and has seven suggestions for traditional vegetable garnitures: Bruxelloise, Châtelaine, Clamart, Florian, Judic, Provençale and Viroflay. Artichoke hearts, Brussels sprouts, braised lettuce, stuffed mushrooms,  or whole baked tomatoes were just some of these and each garniture referenced specific recipes and their page numbers.

I made the roast leg of lamb on March 28th, 1969, according to my note in the margin along with the following comment: "Cook a bit longer than it says—unless it is really room temp when put in oven."

My enthusiasm for this cookbook and my dedication to learning the techniques hit a big snag, however. I was unprepared for the omelette. 

This is the cheery introduction to the eleven pages of treatise and recipes in the omelette chapter:

"A good French omelette is a smooth, gently swelling golden oval that is tender and creamy inside. And as it takes less than half a minute to make, it is ideal for a quick meal."

Less than half a minute? Between wrestling with my pan, its handle, the shaking, the lifting and finally slapping an egg mixture that was neither smooth nor gently swollen onto a plate, my omelette was a disaster. 

I tried more than once and while I should have taken to heart her cautionary advice—"…before you even start to make one you must read, remember, and visualize the directions from beginning to end, and practice the movements"—I ended up frustrated and seething.

Then I remembered: Julia lived in Cambridge! Right across the river! I raced to the telephone book (yes, children, that's what we had in those days) and sure enough, there was a listing. I telephoned and Paul Child answered. Julia was away for the afternoon but perhaps he could help.

"Less than half a minute to make an omelette?" I sputtered. "It's impossible."

"Now, now," he said gently. "It's patience. That's all you need."

"Really?" I was unconvinced."Yes," Paul said firmly, "Keep making omelettes and you'll be making them in less than 30 seconds." 

Patience won out. And I learned it's not a clock race, it's producing that gently swollen, tender and creamy eggy marvel. 

Thank you, Paul Child.

Get a copy of Mary's Throw a Great Party that recounts menus and recipes from those fabulous Sunday dinners in Paris with Jim Haynes.

Photo by Mary Bartlett of her well-loved copy of Julia's classic Mastering the Art of French Cooking.

I'm sure some sage has written wise words correlating adversity with opportunity and growth. And you would be well within your rights to ask why I'm bringing this up in a post that's ostensibly a recipe for strawberry sorbet, and the answer is this: When Dave developed lactose intolerance in his early 40s we were devastated. As I wrote at the time:

It was a very bad day. One of those days that forever changes you. A day that delineates a definite "Before" and "After." The life-altering occurrence? My husband found out he was lactose intolerant. And, no, not just the "take a Lactaid pill and have some cheesecake anyway" kind of lactose intolerant, but the kind where it's inadvisable to partake of butter, fresh cheeses or any product containing milk without risking...ahem...shall we say "explosive repercussions."

As Joni Mitchell wrote: "You don't know what you've got till it's gone."

It led to a complete rethinking of our very profligate and, frankly, thoughtless use of dairy in everything from our morning toast to creamy casseroles to buttery pastries and desserts. Store shelves today proudly proclaim their products to be "dairy free" and "vegan," with lactose-free butter, milk and cheeses in stock almost everywhere. Even restaurant menus now offer dairy-free options and label entrées "DF" or "V," but thirty years ago it meant switching to margarine and tofu-based simulacra of our beloved dairy products.

And you could pretty much rule out a romantic date night—the machinations involved in trying to ascertain what was and wasn't available, the wait staffs' eyes rolling around their heads and a whimper of "I'll have to check with the kitchen" uttered in complete helplessness, then ordering something and hoping desperately they'd got it right made for a less-than-relaxing experience.

But the upsides were legion, as well. One of the big reasons for Dave's dive into sourdough—yes, it predated the nation's "discovery" of this ancient technique during COVID, particularly by middle-aged white men—was because reading paragraph-long bread labels on shopping trips was taking way too long and the "may have been produced in a facility using dairy" descriptions felt too risky. I could also list benefits like discovering the infinite and delicious permutations of olive oil cakes, and the concomitant escalation in our use of (organic) olive oil, or, to get back to the point of this post, the discovery of fresh sorbets that were like the creamier, less icy Italian versions our Cuisinart ice cream maker produces.

With local fruit season just beginning to burst onto the scene, you can count on several berry and stone fruit sorbets appearing as luscious cappers to backyard soirées here at Good Stuff NW. For instance, this strawberry version is easy, taking less than an hour to pop into freezer and then three or four hours to freeze.

Don't have an ice cream maker in your kitchen inventory? No problem! Read to the last part of the recipe below and check out how my friend Mary Bartlett made the incredible sorbet pictured on the left using just a whisk and her freezer.

Fresh Strawberry Sorbet

2 pints fresh strawberries
1 1/4 cups simple syrup (equal parts sugar and water, warmed and stirred until sugar is completely dissolved)
2 Tbsp. fresh-squeezed orange juice or a teaspoon or two of triple sec or Cointreau (optional)

Cool the simple syrup in the refrigerator.

Put the rinsed, stemmed and halved strawberries into a food processor or blender with a quarter cup of the simple syrup and blend until smooth.  Pour the mixture into a larger bowl. Mix in the rest of the simple syrup (or to taste). Mix in the orange juice or booze, if using. Pour into an ice cream/sorbet machine and follow manufacturer’s directions. Freeze for a few hours before serving.

No ice cream machine? No problem! My friend Mary Bartlett said: "Follow the instructions, make the base and put it in a bowl that will go into the freezer. Place the bowl in the freezer. After one hour, using a whisk, stir the mixture. (Pro tip: Keeping the whisk in the freezer between stirrings will help speed the process along.) Repeat this hourly for about 4 to 6 hours.

Photo of blue bowl and hydrangeas by Denise della Santina. Photo of sorbet in china cups by Mary Bartlett.

Did you know that goats were brought to the Americas from Europe on Christopher Columbus's second voyage in 1493? Or that goats were considered "the poor man's cow" because immigrants streaming to the newly industrializing cities in America often kept goats for sustenance and survival? Or that goat milk surged in popularity because consumers—shocked to learn that the cow’s milk they were drinking was often adulterated with substances like chalk or plaster of paris and was laden with dangerous microorganisms, including the bacterium that causes tuberculosis—turned to goat’s milk as a substitute?

Me neither!

Well known for her previous books about artisan cheese, Portland author Tami Parr's new book, Goats in America: A Cultural History, documents the surprising and important role goats have played throughout the history of the United States. I lobbed a few questions her way about the book:

Q: What prompted you to write a book about goats?

Parr: This book grew out of my involvement in the cheese world. While writing my previous two books (and the blog before that) I spent a lot of time hanging around cheesemakers and visiting farms around the Pacific Northwest.I began to notice that there is a definite hierarchy of sorts in the livestock world—and that goats are pretty firmly situated on the bottom of the list. There’s a lot of reasons for this—objectively speaking, goats are smaller and you make less money from them. At the same time it is a centuries old stereotype that only peasants and poor people keep goats—or that goats are only fit for peasants and the poor. “Progress” is often defined historically as a transition between goat keeping and cattle keeping. You can really see how this all played out in US policy toward Navajo livestock, which I discuss in the book.

Because I’m a curious person I wanted to try to figure out what was going on here. Once I started doing some research, it was like a whole world opened up—and here we are.

Q: What’s the most common misperception that people have about goats?

Parr: So many things. The association with poverty is the biggest one. Goats are an animal and it’s perfectly reasonable to keep goats or cattle for all kinds of reasons, whether you find yourself with a lot of money or not! And if you think goat keeping or goat dairying is a waste of time, you may not know that goat dairying is a multi-billion dollar industry in the United States.

People have other negative associations about goats that see to originate with a lack of experience with livestock generally—that all goats are smelly, or aggressive. Lots of people feel that goat meat or cheese automatically tastes bad because of those associations. This comes up constantly at farmers markets!

"[Goats] became the scourge of urban life, running recklessly through the streets, destroying property, and sometimes even attacking humans in their search for food. Goats became the punch line of jokes and potent symbols of degenerate behavior of all kinds."

Q: What’s the most surprising thing you learned in writing this book?

Parr: Honestly the most surprising thing is that there were so many surprising things! I mean, really—who knew that English and Dutch colonists were complaining about goats in the 1600s? That there was a really specific moment around the turn of the 20th century where goat’s milk emerged as a popular beverage in the United States? That Italian immigrant women used to graze goats in the Telegraph Hill/North Beach area of San Francisco well into the 1920s? That goat yoga would become a worldwide phenomenon? I could go on and on.

Q: I love the “goat people” profiles you’ve posted on your Instagram account. Do you have a favorite?

Parr: The story of Estelle West in San Francisco is a great one! During the 1950s West was forced out of her home in the Potrero Hill neighborhood during the construction of the 101 freeway. She had a number of goats and appears to have been quite a character! She resisted moving for a long time and the local newspapers followed the story closely. Finally she took a payout, but moved to another property nearby with the goats. After many complaints from residents she was actually jailed briefly for failing to get rid of the goats, but in a strange turn of events a rich socialite bailed her out. There’s a photo of her in the book with her goats—I love that she put on a mink coat for the photo shoot! There are many, many examples of urban residents in cities across the country, past and present, who have faced opposition from neighbors and city governments for keeping goats.

Q: What do you hope your book achieves?

Parr: I wanted to write this book in part because it fills a void. There literally aren’t books about goat history and culture like there are about cattle and sheep, or the dairy and wool industry. Goats deserve to be thought about and discussed, and if we ignore them we are missing out on a lot about American culture generally. In the twenty first century goat’s milk and cheese have become a multi-billion dollar industrial complex in the US but you see very little discussion about that anywhere. That in itself is a good reason to talk about goats! But mostly, if the book can be even a tiny bit helpful in changing entrenched negative perceptions about goats then that makes me happy. There’s just no point to that.

You can pre-order Goats in America: A Cultural History from OSU Press.

Photos courtesy Tami Parr. Portrait of Parr by Jenny Jiminez.

I first saw this spectacular dish years ago among the drool-worthy photos at Portland's late, lamented Florentine outpost, Burrasca, and was intrigued with its verdant green color and creamy texture. You see, we eat a lot of risotto around here, since it's easy to adapt to whatever you have in your pantry or vegetable bin—it's quick, around twenty minutes cooking time—and, in summer, doesn't heat up the kitchen. Summer is also when fresh herbs are plentiful in gardens and at farmers' markets.

Plus, if you make it in the summer and get too warm standing in front of the stove, you are allowed a glass (or more, depending on how quickly you drain it) of a chilled white or rosé.

For this particular recipe, I had on hand a fair amount of arugula and parsley I'd bought at the farmers' market over the weekend, as well as chives and tarragon from the garden, but you can use any greens that come to hand, like spinach, chard, sorrel, kale, chervil, dill, basil or the like. Eminently flexible, you can design your own flavor profile—I'd only caution you to not overload the mixture with stronger-tasting herbs, but let them weave in and out of the milder ones.

Risotto Alle Erbe/Herb Risotto

3 Tbsp. olive oil
2 Tbsp. butter or margarine
Half of a medium yellow onion, chopped fine
3 cloves of garlic, minced
2 c. arborio or other short-grained rice
1 c. white or rosé wine
5 c. chicken stock
3 c. mixed green herbs (I used arugula, parsley and chives), chopped fine
2 Tbsp. tarragon, chopped fine
2 c. parmesan or romano, grated fine

Heat olive oil and butter over medium heat in large saucepan until it shimmers, then add onion and sauté until translucent. Add garlic and sauté briefly, then add rice and sauté for 2 minutes, stirring constantly to prevent sticking.

Add wine and stir until it is absorbed into the rice, then begin adding stock a ladle-full at a time, stirring frequently, allowing the stock to be absorbed before adding more (I keep the stock warming in a pot on a nearby burner—it absorbs much more quickly when it's hot). When about half the stock has been used, add the finely chopped herbs and stir them in until they wilt slightly, then continue adding the stock until the rice is slightly chewy and the risotto has a creamy texture. Add 1/2 c. parmesan and stir to combine. Serve immediately.

Check out these terrific risotto recipes and expand your risotto horizons!

Farming can be an isolated, even lonely, enterprise, particularly since roughly 85 percent of Oregon farmers rely on outside jobs to support their farms, leaving precious little time for outside activities.

Historically, rural Granges served the purpose of advocating for and educating farmers and their families, as well as enriching their social lives and enabling them to share information. The decline of that institution mirrored the precipitous fall in the number of farmers in the US from a third of the population in the early 20th century to less than two percent today.

The Oregon Pasture Network (OPN), a program of Friends of Family Farmers (FoFF) that aims to support the growth of pasture-based farms in the state, stepped into the breach by holding "pasture walks," casual walks on the farms of network members. Billed as a great way to see practices in action and learn how other producers operate, plus the opportunity to connect with peers, OPN believes this type of hands-on learning opportunity is more effective and engaging than simply watching a video or a conference presentation.

A recent pasture walk was held at Terra Farma, OPN program director Michael Guebert's farm in Corbett where he and his wife, Linda Bangs, operate a multi-species, pasture-based farm. Farmers from around the Willamette Valley and a cattle rancher from Powell Butte—plus one journalist—walked up the hilly property through thigh-high grass as Guebert explained that when they bought  the property in 2001, the ground was so compacted that in a rainstorm the water would cascade down the hill, often flooding the road to their farmhouse.

The goals for the afternoon were basic: sharing what techniques Guebert uses on their farm to improve their grazing program, as well as getting feedback on those practices from attendees; hearing from industry experts—in this case Oregon State University soil scientist Shannon Cappellazzi—about ways to improve soil and pasture performance; and then, of course, networking and socializing over a potluck dinner.

After Guebert demonstrated how he and Linda move their cows, goats and sheep to fresh sections of pasture, called paddocks, once or even twice a day using lightweight posts strung with flexible, electrified wire, he also measured soil temperature on thickly planted pasture versus bare ground, since beneficial soil microorganisms can't thrive in high soil temperatures. Cappellazzi then performed an "infiltration test" to measure how quickly water seeped into mature pasture, then did the same test on more compacted soil. The mature pasture absorbed water in just 13 seconds, while the water in the compacted soil was still sitting there ten minutes later.

One attendee wrote in an evaluation that more events like this would be welcome. "It was great having extension agents walking fields with farmers," they wrote. "The amount we were able to learn from Shannon in the little time we spent with her was amazing." Another wrote it was startling to see the side-by-side comparison of infiltration times, even though they were familiar with the concept. "Seeing things live, in situ, with context makes the leap to applicability for my own case much better than, say, just reading."

A goal of the program is to hold pasture walks on members' farms across Oregon, which will be announced on the OPN blog. One farmer said that despite the long drive, there was a meaningful sense of generosity in being welcomed onto a farm property and making connections with like-minded folk.

My neighbor Bill has a backyard vegetable garden that rivals some of our small-acreage farmers. He's currently havesting fava beans, snap and shelling peas, lettuces, herbs and radishes, with several beans, all sorts of peppers, Astiana tomatoes, carrots, berries, figs, cucumbers, shiso, basil and squashes in the queue—there are undoubtedly others, too, but who can keep track?

He and his partner in crime, Jen, are both teachers and spend much of the summer pickling, preserving and freezing the bounty from their back yard, pulling out jars and bottles that tide them over throughout the winter months.  Fortunately for me, they're generous to a fault and live just two blocks away.

Above is his second harvest of fava beans. He shared some of the first picking, which I added to a salad under a gorgeous filet of grilled salmon, then he asked if I could help out with this second massive haul. My answer was something akin to "Hell yes!" and I rushed over with bag in hand, coming home with at least five pounds of pods.

Bill had mentioned making risotto with some of the beans from his first picking, so since it was a mild spring evening I decided to follow suit. After doing some research online, I decided to eschew the suggestions combining favas and asparagus and focus instead on the favas themselves, accented by a bit of Dave's smoky bacon and some of the savory Cretin mint from Alice Doyle at Log House Plants in Cottage Grove.

Fresh Fava Bean Risotto

4 lbs. fava bean pods
1/4 lb. bacon, cut in small 1/4" cubes
2 Tbsp. olive oil
1/2 medium onion, finely chopped
4 cloves garlic, finely minced
2 c. arborio or other short-grained Italian rice
1 c. dry white wine
4 c. chicken broth
1 c. Pecorino Romano, finely grated
1 c. Parmigiano Reggiano, finely grated
1/2 c. (1 stick) frozen butter, cut crosswise into quarters
2 Tbsp. mint leaves, finely chopped
Salt to taste

Bring a medium saucepan full of water to a boil and salt the water. While it heats, shuck the fava beans into a mixing bowl and discard the pods. When the water boils add the beans to the pot. When it returns to a boil, cook for three minutes, drain and submerge in ice water. When they cool, drain again and remove outer casings from the largest pods (or about 1/4 of the total). Set the peeled pods aside. Place the remaining unpeeled beans in a food processor or blender and process, adding just enough water to make a smooth purée. Set aside.

Heat the stock in a medium saucepan and keep warm over low heat.

Place the bacon in a large saucepan or risotto pot and fry over medium heat until crispy. When it's almost crisp, add the olive oil and heat for a few seconds, then add the onion and garlic to the pan and sauté until tender. Add the rice and stir to combine.

When the rice begins to get hot and crackle, add the white wine and stir gently until it's absorbed. Then begin adding the hot broth a ladle at a time, stirring gently and adding another ladle of stock as it absorbs. Repeat until the rice is almost done (it will be al dente but not crunchy), stir in the fava purée and allow it to come to a simmer for three minutes. Add the cold butter and a heaping cup of the grated cheeses and stir vigorously to emulsify the butter. Check for salt adding as needed.

I like to serve the risotto in the pan with a ladle, scattering the peeled favas over the top with the mint and grated cheese, though for a "company dinner" you might want to plate it in individual wide bowls garnished with the peeled beans, mint and cheese. (Make sure to serve plenty of grated cheese on the side!) A salad of soft lettuces is ideal to serve with this risotto, especially with my Sweet Red Wine Vinaigrette dressing.

Get Jen's great-grandmother's recipe for Quick Refrigerator Pickles.

Years ago I wrote an article on honey for the Oregonian based on a recently released book on the topic, A Taste of Honey by Oregon author Marie Simmons. Simmons, who at that time had written more than 20 books on subjects like figs, rice, eggs and muffins, had for years been entranced by honey and the insects that made the intoxicating substance—so much so that she mentioned she had a "library" of more than 100 jars that she kept alphabetized on shelves in her Eugene garage.

From her book I learned about the lives of bees, bee society and bee anatomy, as well as how bees produce honey: The nectar collected from blossoms contains sucrose that is broken down by an enzyme in the bees' saliva and is stored in a special "honey stomach." When the bees get back to the hive they regurgitate the honey into the waxy hexagons of the honeycomb, flapping their wings—which makes the buzzing sound we hear—to evaporate the honey, preventing it from fermenting in the comb.

In the intervening years I've started my own (very limited) library of different honeys, each one surprisingly different from the others because of the various types of nectar available to the bees, as well as the season in which it was collected. This year I'm determined to add to the collection, so I've been scouting out some local beekeepers and farmers I want to try:

Ramage Farms, Canby and Mulino. "We have around 100 hives throughout the property hammering all the spring blooms [with] more coming up like the sunflowers and blackberries," according to owner Ryan Ramage. He's been actively working on restoring his property with habitat and soil health as a priority and will be releasing details on this year's honey soon.

Oso Honey Farm, Corvallis. Beekeeper Henry Storch has been breeding locally adapted honeybees in remote parts of the Oregon Coast Range. Offering a wide array of raw varietal honeys, including Coriander, Meadowfoam, Wild Blackberry and Clary Sage, among many others, Storch has also been hosting bulk honey pours at his farmstand where you can bring a (clean) jar to fill up with the featured varietals. (The last bulk pour of the season is June 15.) Otherwise, his honeys are available at several farmers' markets and retail outlets.

Nehalem River Ranch, Nehalem. Jared Gardner markets two varietals produced on his multi-species, pasture-based farm nestled along the Nehalem River in the western foothills of Oregon's Coast Range. One is a light honey from the clover, blackberries and flowers on the ranch, and the other is a dark "Japanese Bamboo" Honey, a prized late-season honey that comes from the Japanese Knotweed that is prolific on the banks of the Nehalem River.

A good place to find more local honey is at your local farmers' market if you're jonesing, as I am, to add to your own library—or just to have something local and delicious to drizzle on your toast. It's worth keeping in mind that in her book Simmons notes that imported honeys are fine, but it's like the difference between jug wine and a bottle of pinot from the Willamette Valley: Food always tastes better closer to the source.

Top photo and meadowfoam field from Oso Honey Farm. Glowing honey jars from Ramage Farms.

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