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.

You may notice that there have been a couple of changes here at Good Stuff NW. First, I’ve added a Newsletter item to the menu just under the masthead that enables you to subscribe more easily. It also has archives if you want to review past newsletters.

Second, I’ve decided that—drumroll, please—going forward I won’t be accepting outside advertising and will instead switch to a subscriber-based service from Patreon. Sponsored advertising has always been fraught, since it requires disclaimers if an advertiser is mentioned in a post, and could potentially lead to conflict-of-interest issues.

But don’t worry, all the content at Good Stuff NW is still free to everyone, including all the recipes, articles and food system news you’ve come to rely on. Think of a subscription as you would a pledge to public radio or television: a way to support, for a minimal monthly charge, a news and information source that informs the whole community about what’s going on in our regional food system. Or, as I put it on the intro page at Patreon:

“Caring about our local food system means wanting to learn where the food you put on your table and feed your family comes from. It means caring about the people who grow, harvest and produce that food. It means caring about the quality of the soil, water and air that we all share, and about making our communities healthier and more resilient.”

So if you find yourself looking up my recipe for kimchi, or you get a hankering for one of Dave's scone or biscuit recipes, or want to know where to take your next road trip, consider a subscription. Where else are you going to find news about what's in season at our farmers' markets, or what your legislators are deciding on that will affect the food we put on our tables? How about the stories of the skulduggery of industrial corporations that are fouling our beautiful state, or the effots of farmers choosing to raise their animals and vegetables organically rather than using pesticides or antibiotics? And don't get me started on my fascination with fermentation…

If you're so moved, please consider a subscription. If not, Good Stuff NW is still here for you. And thanks for reading!

With the end of the 2025 Legislative Session a little over a month away, it's do or die time for some important bills affecting our food system to make it over the finish line. Here's an update and some actions you can take to help make that happen:

Small Farm Water Access (HB 3372). There was some very good news about this bill that would allow commercial sale of food and farm products grown using water from domestic wells, as long as the garden is one-half acre or less and with a daily gallon limit. It passed out of the House Committee of Agriculture, Land Use, Natural Resources and Water last week and just has a couple of minor steps to get it to the governor's desk. Another good thing is that an exclusion was included barring use of water from the Lower Umatilla Basin Groundwater Management Area which has been polluted by agricultural nitrates from factory farms and is the subject of a lawsuit.

Food For All Oregonians (SB 611). This bill envisions an Oregon where all people have access to food no matter where we were born. The FFAO coalition will introduce a bill in the 2025 legislative session. This game-changing policy will:

• Make food assistance available to young kids (ages 0-6) who are currently excluded solely due to immigration status.
• Help families pay for groceries in a way that mimics the federal SNAP food assistance benefits.
• Pave the way for future legislation that will ensure everyone of any age has access to food assistance regardless of their immigration status.

TAKE ACTION: Sign this letter to let your legislators know you believe all Oregonians should have access to food.

Groundwater Quality Protection Act (SB 1154). This bill is a much-needed update to the Groundwater Quality Protection Act and would help bring down pollution in Oregon’s four GWMAs. In Eastern Oregon, the Lower Umatilla Basin Groundwater Management Area (LUBGWMA) has water that is so polluted, it is unsafe to drink and is causing a public health crisis in the region. Despite this region being declared a GWMA 35 years ago, pollution continues to worsen because the Groundwater Quality Protection Act does not give state regulators the authority to require mandatory action to bring down pollution.

TAKE ACTION: Tell Oregon Governor Kotek to keep SB 1154 strong and not let Big Ag water it down.

Eelgrass Action Bill (HB 3580). Eelgrass, those green blades you see waving in tidal waters or draped languorously over rocks at low tide, are biodiversity hotspots, carbon sinks, and nursery habitat for many juvenile fish species, including those that are part of our food system. Their health is vital for sustaining our fisheries, maintaining water quality, and buffering against climate impacts. HB 3580 would fund the Department of Land Conservation and Development and the Department of State Lands to lead a task force to address eelgrass loss and improve management through a collaborative effort involving agencies, Tribes, scientists, local communities, and others.

TAKE ACTION: Sign on to this letter to the Joint Committee on Ways and Means and the Subcommittee on Natural Resources requesting their support on this important bill.

Rocky Habitat Stewardship Bill (HB 3587). Oregon’s rocky habitats, like Haystack Rock and Coquille Point, are iconic tourist destinations for millions of visitors. They are also incredibly important for millions of nesting birds, marine mammals, fish—including some that are part of our food system—and invertebrates. Increasing climate impacts and human disturbance are threatening these special places and this bill would provide needed agency coordination to build community programs to better protect these sites.

TAKE ACTION: Sign on to this letter to the Joint Committee on Ways and Means and the Subcommittee on Natural Resources requesting their support on this important bill.

Over the last 15 or so years, Dave's sourdough journey has not only produced amazing breads, for which he's now milling his own locally grown, organic wheat, but to far-flung baking adventures including a luscious Sourdough Chocolate Cake—a stunner from King Arthur—and cookies, pancakes and waffles.

Lately, he's been playing around with different focaccia recipes, and pulled out one (again from King Arthur) where he substituted his sourdough for the yeast it called for. With a couple of modifications to the original recipe, we think he's come up with a real winner!

Sourdough Focaccia

Adapted from King Arthur's Big and Bubbly Focaccia

290 grams fed and active starter that is half flour and half water (see Note)
215 grams high-gluten flour (I used Chimacum hard red bread flour)
9 grams fine sea salt
1 teaspoon granulated sugar
139 grams water at about 80º
18 grams extra-virgin olive oil

To oil the baking pan, you’ll also need a bit more olive oil, and for sprinkling on top you’ll  need about 2 Tablespoons of extra-virgin olive oil and a half-teaspoon to a teaspoon of coarse or flaky sea salt.

Mix the starter, water and 18 grams of oil in a large bowl to break up and disperse the starter. Whisk the flour, salt and sugar in a separate bowl, then add to the liquids and mix until completely combined. Cover and set aside.

After 15 minutes. uncover and do a set of bowl folds: With a wet hand, reach under an edge of the dough and grab some, stretch it up and pat it onto the center of the dough. Give the bowl a little turn and repeat the stretch. Repeat for a total of eight to 12 times. (There’s a good demonstration of bowl folds at King Arthur.) Cover and set aside.

After 15 minutes, wet your hand and repeat the bowl folds.

After 15 minutes, repeat.

After 15 minutes, repeat for fourth set of bowl folds..

Cover and let rise until doubled in size (probably two to four hours, depending on the temperature of the room and the activity of the starter).

When dough has doubled, prepare a 10-inch cast-iron pan or a 9-inch-by-9-inch baking pan: Lightly oil the bottom and sides of the pan. Line the bottom and sides of the oiled pan with parchment, leaving enough parchment to extend enough above two opposite sides so that you’ll have handles to remove the loaf from the pan partway through the baking. Generously oil the dough side of the parchment.

Gently place the risen dough into the pan, then with the help of a bowl scraper and using your hands as paddles, turn the dough over to oil both sides. Gently stretch the dough toward the edges of the pan. Cover and let rise until it is pillowy and has risen almost to the top of the pan.

Toward the end of the rise, preheat the oven to 475º with a rack a third of the way from the top and a third of the way from the bottom.

When the dough has risen, dip your fingers in oil and gently stick your fingers in the dough so they touch the bottom, then pull them out. Do this all over the dough until it is covered in dimples. Drizzle a tablespoon of oil over the dough. Sprinkle with a half teaspoon to a teaspoon of the coarse or flaky salt.

Bake in the lower rack for 15 to 18 minutes, until the high spots have browned and the lower spots are very lightly browned. If the bread isn’t browned enough, move the pan to the upper rack and broil for a minute, watching closely to avoid burning.

Remove from the oven and turn the oven off. Lift the loaf from the pan using the parchment handles. Place the loaf directly on the lower rack and leave in the oven for five minutes until the sides are lightly browned and the loaf is crisp.

Remove from the oven and place on a rack to cool.

Note: This recipe is basically the King Arthur recipe but eliminating the yeast and using sourdough starter instead. Thus the 290 grams of starter is the total I had on hand after feeding; since it’s 100 percent hydration, I deducted 145 grams from the 360 grams of flour in the KA recipe and 145 grams of water from the 284 in the recipe. Changing from yeast to sourdough also adds to the rising time for the dough.