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.

It's been almost 20 years since my mother passed away, and a friend's special request for my Mom's quintessential summer salad brought memories of her flooding back, as they do whenever I make one of the many family favorites still on rotation in our house. This post from 2009 summed it up.

My mother was a good, if not natural cook, doing the not-inconsequential job of feeding her family of five staples like Spanish rice, tuna casserole and goulash. Her own mother was not really interested in cooking, and growing up in North Powder, Oregon, a teeny Eastern Oregon town of 400, hadn't provided much in the way of adventurous dining. She did occasionally venture into unknown territory, which brought exotic foods like tacos, made with store-bought packets of Taco Mix and fried tortillas, to our dinner table.

There were many recipes of hers I made sure to copy down before I left home. Her pineapple carrot cake, favorite holiday cookie recipes and, probably her pièce de resistance, a fabulous all-American summer favorite, potato salad. As a staple of picnics and family gatherings, I'd helped make it so many times it was practically muscle memory, and its still an often-requested, must-have side dish at summer get-togethers.

Now, everyone has their own definitive version of potato salad, with the accompanying debates about the merits of mayo versus salad dressing, celery or not. My mother's called for russets (no Yukon golds for her, mister), pickle brine as the dressing's secret ingredient with a slightly pink tinge from what we referred to as God's own condiment, ketchup.

There's nothing that reminds me of her more than when I dig into this on a warm summer's day.

Mom's Potato Salad

Dressing:
2 c. mayonnaise
1/2 c. ketchup
2 tsp. worchestershire
2 tsp. dried basil
1/8 tsp. garlic powder
1/2 tsp. celery salt
1/2 tsp. dried thyme
1/3 c. pickle brine
1 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. pepper

Salad:
8 med. russet potatoes
1 yellow onion
10 hard-boiled eggs*
6 med. pickles

Put unpeeled potatoes in a large saucepan or Dutch oven and cover with water. Place on stove and bring to a boil. Cook until potatoes are tender but not mushy. Drain and cool (can be made ahead).

While potatoes cook, make dressing. Put all ingredients in a bowl and stir to combine.

Slice cooled potatoes into 1" square and 1/8" wide pieces (or bite-sized). Chop onion and pickles fine. Chop eggs. Put in a large bowl, pour dressing over top and fold it in (don't stir or the potatoes will break up too much) until thoroughly combined. Place bowl in refrigerator and let sit for a couple of hours so flavors have a change to mingle.

Serves 10-12. This recipe makes a huge batch, so you may want to halve it.

* Use this technique for easy-to-peel, hard-boiled pastured eggs.

My friend Claudia Lucero, founder of home cheese-making empire Urban Cheesecraft, sent out this recipe in her newsletter that begged to be shared. I asked, and she agreed!

Ever drool over a recipe featuring burrata only to find that you can't actually buy burrata anywhere near you? You're not alone, but there's great news—you can enjoy the luscious, creamy heart of burrata by making stracciatella, the rich, silky filling inside with just two ingredients.

What is Stracciatella?

Surprise! If you have tasted burrata, you have already tasted stracciatella! That's because stracciatella is the lesser-known creamy filling inside burrata—the part that makes everyone ooh and ahh after slicing a tender burrata pouch. The part that makes burrata more luscious than fresh mozzarella. It is simply made by combining torn shreds of fresh mozzarella with rich cream and a sprinkle of salt. That's it.

Some people consider stracciatella a fresh Italian cheese, others argue that it is technically not a cheese because we're just mixing mozzarella with cream. As a cheesemaker, I get that, but no one likes to hear, "well, actually" when they're just enjoying something delicious! Besides, I also make dairy-free "cheese" so clearly I am not ruled by tradition and technicalities. If burrata can be called a fresh Italian cheese, then so can stracciatella!

Fun fact: In Italian stracciatella literally means “little shred, or little rag.” I like to call them "ribbons"—it's a little more appetizing. Regardless, shreds or rags are perfect descriptions of how the mozzarella is torn into pieces before being bathed in cream.

This also explains why there is a stracciatella soup (ribbons are created when a mixture of egg and cheese is stirred into hot soup) and stracciatella ice cream (drizzles or ribbons of melted chocolate that become chocolate flecks when the chocolate freezes and is broken up and stirred into the ice cream).

Burrata, Mozzarella, and Stracciatella: What’s the Difference?

I'm sure you are getting this but just to be clear, these three cheeses are deliciously related, but each has its own character. Here’s a quick breakdown:

Mozzarella. A fresh, semi-soft cheese made with the pasta filata (stretched curd, or "spun paste") technique. Traditionally made with water buffalo milk in parts of Italy (mozzarella di bufala) but often cow’s milk elsewhere (fior di latte). Used for pizza, salads, and appetizers.

Stracciatella. Made by tearing fresh mozzarella into shreds and mixing with heavy cream and salt. It’s soft, rich, and spoonable and a perfect representation of burrata that has already been cut into. Can be eaten on toast, in pasta, or as a substitute for burrata in any serving suggestion.

Burrata. A fresh, thin mozzarella pouch filled with stracciatella. It's like a dumpling for cheese lovers! Originated in Puglia, Italy, as a way to avoid waste (yesterday's mozzarella or string cheese knots called nodini). Meant to be eaten fresh, often with tomatoes, bread, and olive oil.

Burrata's Clever Zero-Waste History and Connection to other Cheeses of the World

All three of these cheeses trace their roots to southern Italy, where fresh, perishable cheeses are a staple. Burrata was invented in the early 1900s in Puglia as a clever way to use leftover mozzarella scraps.

The technique of pasta filata, or stretched-curd cheesemaking, dates back even further and can be seen in other cultures. It’s the same process used to make classics like provolone and caciocavallo in Italy but also quesillo (queso Oaxaca) in Mexico and the Syrian string cheese jibneh mshallaleh, sometimes sold in Middle Eastern markets in the U.S. as tresse. 

Why Make Stracciatella at Home? So Many Reasons.

• You need burrata and can't find it.
• You make excellent mozzarella and want to up your game! 
• You make OK mozzarella and you'd rather tear it into this forgiving shape and allow the shreds to tenderize in the cream (bonus!).
• You've actually made burrata with our kits or books but the messy sealing part frustrates you (it's true, that takes the most practice). 
• It’s delicious, quick and easy — ready in minutes.
• No special equipment is needed.

Plus:

• You can use store-bought mozzarella in brine or learn to make your own using our Urban Cheesecraft Mozzarella Kit or recipes from One Hour Cheese or Instant Pot Cheese books. 
• You can customize your stracciatella with herbs, lemon zest, or spices and impress the heck out of your friends and family.

Simple Homemade Stracciatella Recipe 

This recipe makes about 1 cup—enough to top crostini, or spoon over pasta, salad or pizza. Feel free to double or quadruple the recipe—you will wish you did.

Important: This will not work with American-style mozzarella. You know the firm, waxy stuff that can be shredded with a grater, nor with part-skim pre-shredded mozzarella, or with American string cheese. If you don't have an hour to make mozzarella, and can't find store-bought, fresh mozzarella in brine, use ricotta instead. The texture won't be quite right but it's tasty. 

Ingredients:
1 ball of fresh mozzarella in brine (about 4-5 oz) or homemade mozzarella (see recipe)
1/3 c. heavy cream (also called heavy whipping cream)
1/8 tsp. sea salt, taste and adjust to taste
Optional: Any flavorful bits you'd like, such as a sprinkling of pepper flakes or two teaspoons of fresh chives, torn basil, diced sundried tomatoes, etc.

Tear the milky soft mozzarella into small, thin shreds by hand. This is the original handmade way. (These days this is often done by machines so the filling can often look like ricotta.)

In a bowl, combine the shredded mozzarella, heavy cream, and salt. Toss gently to combine. The cream should drench the shreds so that they are still runny. You want it to be a little drippy when you grab a handful because some of it will absorb into the mozzarella shreds and tenderize them. (You can see this in my Instagram reel where I make stracciatella from homemade mozzarella.)

Taste and adjust salt if needed. Add any herbs, etc. you are using.

You can eat it right away but it will be more tender if you allow it to rest and meld for 5- 10 minutes at room temp. Like mozzarella and burrata, stracciatella is best eaten on the same day so you never (ideally) have to refrigerate it. But, real life, it's ok if you do. Just allow it to rest at room temp for 10-15 minutes before serving so the cream and cheese soften a bit and lose that fat-coagulating chill. You will taste the butterfat more fully and that's what we want with these simple, creamy cheeses. Note that the cream will continue to absorb into the mozzarella shreds and can turn them bitter over time. Eat it within 1-2 days.

Serving ideas:

• Spoon onto grilled sourdough with olive oil and flaky salt.
• Dollop over roasted veggies or pasta.
• Swirl into soups for a creamy finish.
• Spoon over fresh tomato or peach salad.

Read my 2018 interview with Claudia. All photos courtesy Claudia Lucero.

The saying above was never more true. I've been waiting months for Dave to be satisfied enough with this recipe to share it with you all, and the time has finally arrived!

Regular readers will know that Dave relentlessly trolls baking websites, blogs and videos for ideas that he tries out on his willing victims, aka his family, and regularly hands out samples to friends, neighbors and postal carriers alike. (Just yesterday our mail carrier, Fred, who has been plied with the aforementioned samples, said we can text him any time to let him know if we have extras to get rid of.)

The journey of these scones started with a Genevieve Ko recipe in the New York Times for a favorite she'd had from an Alabama restaurant that they called orange rolls. What caught Dave's eye was that these didn't require yeast, multiple risings or refrigerating overnight, the better to put together for our usual late-morning breakfast. Describing them as "pretty okay" after a test run, Dave mused that it might be possible to rework them as scones, both to save time and get around the hassle of rolling out the dough, spreading the filling, rolling up the dough and slicing them—especially if you haven't had enough coffee yet.

If you've made his recipe for Orange Currant Scones, you know he's got that particular pastry nailed, so it took a few attempts at perfecting the dough-to-filling ratio to get the rise he wanted and keep the just-sweet-enough-but-not-too-sweet flavor profile we prefer.

So, finally, here it is—tadaaaaaaa—our new favorite morning pastry!

Dave's Orange Cinnamon Filled Scones

390 grams all-purpose (AP) flour (Dave used half AP and half sifted home-milled Camas Country Mill hard white flour)
3/4 tsp. fine sea salt
1 Tbsp. granulated sugar
1 Tbsp. baking powder
1/4-1/3 c. sour cream (see note below)
2/3-3/4 c. whole milk or half-and-half (see note below)
2 heaping Tbsp. brown sugar
1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon
Zest of one orange
1 stick of butter (1/2 c.), very cold, cut into 1/4" cubes
1 large egg

Preheat oven to 350°.

Add the flour, sea salt, sugar and baking powder to a large bowl and lightly whisk. Pour into the bowl of a food processor.

Cut the very cold butter into 1/4" pieces and toss into the food processor with the flour mixture. Pulse for 7 to 10 seconds until the butter is in tiny pieces, approximately the size of fennel seeds.

Pour the flour mixture back into the large bowl.

Spoon the sour cream into the bottom of a one-cup measuring cup, then add milk or half-and-half enough to measure 1 cup. Whisk with a fork.

Break the egg into a small bowl and whisk with a fork.

Pour the milk mixture into the egg and whisk briefly until the yolk is thoroughly mixed in.

Put the brown sugar and cinnamon into a small bowl and mix together. Add the orange zest and mix again. You might have to rub it into the sugar and cinnamon mixture with your fingers.

Add the milk-egg mixture to the flour mixture and mix until all the dry ingredients are moistened and the dough can be formed into a mass. Knead three or four times. Cut the dough into two equal pieces. Flatten each piece into a circle about 8 inches in diameter (a rolling pin helps).

Spoon half of the cinnamon/sugar/zest mixture onto one of the dough pieces and spread it as evenly as you can. It’s OK to have some sparse spots. Layer the other flattened piece of dough on top of the first. Spread the rest of the cinnamon mixture on top as evenly as possible.

Place the assembled dough on a baking sheet lined with parchment. Cut like a pie into eight wedges (you don’t need to separate them).

Bake for 22-25 minutes, turning front-to-back halfway through, until a tester stuck into a couple of the wedges shows they are baked through.

In this week's Beaverton Farmers Market newsletter, manager Ginger Rapport interviewed a vendor about his favorite new snack, pickled quail eggs! Since I'm up for trying anything pickled, I thought I'd share his recipe here.

Le Petit Jardin, our microgreens grower, makes unique blends of these nutritious greens to use in your salads, brighten your sandwiches, or even use in your smoothies for an additional vitamin and nutrition boost, Michael Hager, the owner, shared with us that he discovered his new favorite thing—pickled quail eggs!

Here is what he wrote:

“As you may know, I started to keep Jumbo Coturnix quails this past summer on my small homestead. Over the past months, I was able to take five Coturnix quails and grow my flock to over 20 quails that are all laying eggs now.

Monday, I was looking at the abundance of quail eggs in the fridge and said to myself, "How can I do something different with them?"  I have been making fresh eggs with them every morning. It hit me, why not make some pickled quail eggs? For best results, start this process one week ahead of time to allow the eggs to absorb the flavors of the pickling brine.

Pickled Quail Eggs

For the brine:
1 c. white vinegar or red wine vinegar
1 tsp. Kosher Salt
2-4 whole cloves
8 peppercorns, whole
1 tsp. red pepper flakes or cayenne (optional)

For the eggs:
1 dozen quail eggs at room temperature (not cold)
1 sprig of fresh dill
1 pinch Parsley fresh, chopped
1 jalapeño pepper, sliced crosswise in 1/8" rings (optional) 

Bring a medium-sized pan of water to a rolling boil over high heat. Add quail eggs to the water, making sure the water covers the eggs, and set a timer for 3 1/2 minutes. Keep the water at a low boil. While the eggs cook, prepare a bowl of ice water. When the time is up, take eggs directly from the boiling water into the bowl of ice water with a slotted spoon. Cool for three minutes, then gently crack and peel the eggs.

In a small saucepan, bring vinegar to a boil. Add in the kosher salt, garlic cloves, whole cloves and peppercorns. Add additional ingredients, such as cayenne powder or red pepper flakes, if you desire. Stir to combine until the salt is fully dissolved. Remove from heat but do not allow to cool completely.

Place your sprig of fresh dill and a pinch of chopped parsley in the bottom of a one-quart Mason jar. Add jalapeños at this stage if you’ve chosen to use them. Place the peeled quail eggs in the jar on top of the dill and parsley. Pour the hot pickling brine over the eggs. Use a knife, fork, spoon, or chopstick to carefully move the eggs around to ensure there are no air bubbles in your pickling mixture. Place a lid on the jar. Store in your refrigerator for 1 week before enjoying so the eggs have time to absorb the flavors of the brine. 

To serve, slice them up for salads or just eat them right out of the mason jar as a nice afternoon snack.

NOTE: Pickled quail eggs will last for up to 3 months in the refrigerator.

Check out my series on fermentation!

As sad as I was to bid farewell to the sweetness of summer lettuces and greens, I have to say I started drooling at the prospect of the bitter bite of the hearty chicories that would soon be filling market stalls and greengrocers' shelves. As versatile as brassicas in everything from salads to soups and stir-fries, the split heads can even take the char from a grill, griddle or broiler.

Right now is the peak moment to check out the rainbow of colors and textures available from local farms—and you'll find the best prices on them at the farmers' market! It's a task I'm completely signed up for, obviously, and fortunately my Stoneboat Farm CSA includes them in its shares almost every week.

If you happen to be averse to the intensity of chicory's bitterness, you can take a page from Nostrana's Chef Cathy Whims and soak the chopped leaves in ice water for a couple of hours ahead of time.

Lately I've been enjoying winter salads by chopping them into salads with a variety of other seasonally appropriate greens and condiments. One green in particular that seems to beautifully complement chicory's bitterness is deep green lacinato kale, sweetened as it always is this time of year by the frosts that cause the plants to flood the leaves with sugars to keep them from freezing. I also love that it adds a dark contrast to the chicory's bright colors, and its bubbly texture adds a soft crunch to the mix.

The variations are endless: I've thrown in crushed hazelnuts, green onions, sweet peppers, chopped beets, capers, dried cranberries—you name it, I've probably tried it. And a sprinkling of grated parmesan or crumbled blue cheese is not a bad idea, either. I like a creamy dressing (see below) but a classic Caesar dressing, a sweet mustard vinaigrette or even a fig and balsamic dressing would all do this salad justice.

"A Few of My Favorite Things" Chicory Salad

For the dressing:
3 Tbsp. mayonnaise
1 Tbsp. Dijon mustard
2 Tbsp. rice vinegar
1 clove garlic, pressed in a garlic press
1 Tbsp. white miso
Herbs, finely chopped (I like dried or fresh tarragon or thyme, as well as chopped chives)
1 tsp. honey (optional)

For the salad:
Radicchio or chicory leaves, chopped into 1" pieces
Lacinato kale, chopped into 1/4" chiffonade
Condiments like crushed hazelnuts, slivered green onions, chopped sweet peppers, chopped beets, capers, etc.
Grated parmesan or crumbled blue cheese (optional)

For the dressing, combine ingredients in a small bowl and stir until smooth.

Combine salad ingredients in appropriately sized salad bowl, drizzle with dressing of your choice and toss.

During the holiday season my parents would invariably designate one evening before Christmas to invite friends over for an open house. My mom, a dedicated holiday baker, used the occasion to haul out all the fruitcakes she'd made—one packed with whole nuts and citron barely held together with batter, an applesauce bread studded with nuts and raisins, another cakey version that had been wrapped in a brandy-soaked cloth—plus cookies filled with jam, pinwheels stuffed with dates, and her signature Nanaimo bars that I'd eat by the dozen, all displayed on holiday-themed platters.

My dad made sure the bar was well-stocked, but his main task was to dig out the Tom & Jerry set from the basement and pull out the recipe card from the file, dog-eared, faded and stained from literally decades of Christmas parties past. On the day of the party, as Mom ran around the house in a frenzy, inspecting (and often redoing) my lackadaisical dusting and vacuuming and fussing over the table decorations of carefully arranged boughs studded with shiny glass Christmas ornaments. My dad would start making the batter for his Tom & Jerrys.

I don't remember any of their friends making this classic holiday drink, but it was a staple at our house growing up. Dad, who in my memory almost never spent time in the kitchen, would carefully separate the egg whites from the yolks, beat the whites into glossy peaks, then gradually fold in the yolks that had been beaten with powdered sugar and whipping cream. I was particularly fascinated with the teensy brown glass bottles of cinnamon and clove oil that had no doubt been around for years, since the batter only required a drop of each to flavor it. He'd dip a toothpick into the little bottle and pull it out, a shimmering drop of oil clinging to it, and ever so carefully let it drip into the batter.

By this point Mom would have vanished upstairs to get dressed and put on lipstick—bright red—to match her holly-trimmed holiday apron, and Dad would be mixing the rum and brandy and putting the kettle on for topping off the cups. It's memories like these that, whenever the holidays roll around and the cold starts to creep in through the cracks around our doors and windows, you'll find me heading down to the basement to dig out our own Tom & Jerry set, start whipping egg whites and inviting the neighbors over.

Over the years I've collected a few recipes for holiday cocktails, and now seemed like a good opportunity to share them with you. Enjoy, and start making memories for you and yours!

My Dad’s Tom & Jerrys

For the batter:
6 eggs
Pinch of cream of tartar
1 lb. powdered sugar
1 drop oil of cinnamon
1 drop oil of clove
1/2 c. whipping cream

For each drink:
1 jigger (1.5 oz.) brandy
1/2 jigger (.75 oz.) rum
2 Tbsp. batter
Boiling water

Dash of fresh-ground nutmeg.

Separate eggs, putting yolks into large mixing bowl and whites into another bowl large enough to whip them in. Add cream of tartar to whites and whip into stiff peaks.

Beat egg yolks to combine and add cinnamon oil, clove oil and whipping cream. Beat, gradually adding powdered sugar till the mixture is thick and smooth. Add whipped egg white and slowly fold them into each other till you have a smooth, light batter.

To make drinks, put brandy, rum and batter into each cup (ours are 6-oz. cups), fill with boiling water and stir. Top with a sprinkle of ground nutmeg. For the kids, make Clyde & Harrys—simply leave out the alcohol and combine the batter and hot water and stir, topping with the nutmeg.

* Oils available at many natural foods stores. Just make sure they're food grade.

Ann and Chad's Hot Toddies

1 slice lemon, 1/8" thick
1 cinnamon stick
3 whole cloves
Pinch of fresh ground nutmeg
1 1/2 oz. whiskey (your choice)
2 oz. boiling water
1 tsp. honey

Place lemon in bottom of a mug or heat-resistant cup. With a muddler or the back of a spoon, crush the lemon gently to release its juices. Add the remaining ingredients and stir to combine.

Rodrigo's Cola de Mono (Tail of a Monkey)

This is a traditional Chilean Christmas drink, usually served cold. Best made a couple of days ahead.

3 qts. whole milk
4 c. of sugar
Peel of an orange (about 1" wide by 2" long)
4 cloves
A pinch of nutmeg
1 stick of cinnamon
2 Tbsp. freshly ground coffee
1 tsp. vanilla extract
1 qt. Aguardiente*, grappa** or pisco

Boil milk with sugar, orange skin, cloves, cinnamon and nutmeg.  Once the milk has come to a boil, remove from stove and add the coffee and vanilla extract and stir constantly for about 5 to ten minutes or until the coffee dissolves as much as possible.

Once the mixture is cold, filter it (paper filters work best) or use a really fine colander with a paper towel. Add the spirit and pour into bottles with tight lids. Place in refrigerator and let it sit for a couple of days before serving. It will keep for a couple of weeks in the fridge.

Shake well before opening. Serve cold, over ice if desired (though not traditional). Can be garnished with a cinnamon stick or a sprinkle of cinnamon if desired.

* Aguardiente is a denomination of spirits that can range from vodka to sugar cane based, so the name is given not because of the source, but the alcohol content, which can be upwards of 120 proof alcohol. In Chile, Aguardiente is made from grapes and the alcohol content is usually somewhere between 45-55% (above 55% is illegal). Because aguardiente is a very generic term and the actual product and alcohol content varies from region to region, I suggest using a grape spirit such as grappa or pisco, preferably between 45-50% alcohol.

** Grappa, like champagne, is a spirit produced from grapes and can only be called grappa if it complies with certain requirements, such as being produced in a certain region of Italy. That’s why substituting it with a grape-based spirit like pisco can lower the cost considerably.

Keith's Bloody Monkey

This variation on a Monkey Gland, but uses fresh winter citrus. Makes one cocktail.

1.5 oz. gin
1.5 oz. blood orange juice, strained of pulp
1 tsp. grenadine
1/2 tsp Pernod

Add all ingredients to cocktail shaker. Add ice till shaker is 3/4 full. Shake vigorously for 20-30 seconds. Strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with slice of blood orange.

The e-mails I get from local farmers' markets are often packed with information, not only about the vendors you'll find there each week, but often containing helpful information and recipes for the seasonal products stacked on their vendors' tables. The essay below, for instance, is from a recent Beaverton Farmers Market newsletter:

Most people think that they know the difference between sweet potatoes and yams, but they have been deceived. Sweet potatoes are not a type of yam, and yams are not a type of sweet potato. They are both tuberous root vegetables that come from a flowering plant, but they are not related and actually don’t have a lot in common. Yams are native to Africa and Asia and are related to lilies. Compared to sweet potatoes, yams are starchier and drier. In our country, yams are likely to be found in international and specialty markets, if at all. Sweet potatoes are the vegetables that you find in our grocery stores and farmers' markets.

Sweet potatoes come from the morning glory family (Ipomoea). Of the numerous varieties grown in the U.S., there are two major types: firm sweet potatoes, which have golden skin and paler flesh, and soft sweet potatoes, which have copper skin and orange flesh. The firm varieties cook up firm and a little waxy, the soft varieties are creamy, fluffy, and moist. Firm varieties were the first to be grown in the U.S. When we started growing the soft varieties, it was felt that there was a need to call them something different so they decided to call them “yams." This was a marketing decision, not a botanical one.

Yams have rough brown skin and a dry, starchy texture and grow mainly in Europe, Asia and Africa. The word “yam” comes from the West African word “nyami," which means “to eat.” Sweet potatoes, on the other hand, are native to North America, have a conical shape, are usually red or orange in color, and have a sweet and creamy texture, which makes them very versatile and easy to cook with.

Roasted Yams or Sweet Potatoes Your Way

Recipe from the Good Stuff NW files.

This is a basic recipe that you can adapt any way you want. Roast the sweet potatoes in the oven, then serve them as is, or slather with butter; sweeten with a drizzle of maple syrup or a sprinkling of brown sugar and a splash of lemon; or simply improvise!

2-3 large yams or sweet potatoes, peeled and cut crosswise in 1/2" slices
2-3 cloves garlic, minced
2 Tbsp. olive oil
1/2 tsp. salt
Herbs, optional

Preheat oven to 350°.

Place slices in a large bowl with garlic, olive oil, salt and herbs, if using. Stir to combine and coat the slices. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper and lay the slices on it in a single layer. Place in oven and roast for 30-45 minutes until they can be easily pierced with a fork. Serve as is or zhoosh to your heart's content.

Top photo: Nat, Riverland Family Farm, courtesy Beaverton Farmers Market.

Writing this blog has been full of slap-upside-the-head, "D'oh!" moments over the years. There was the time someone mentioned making a stock from leftover corn cobs. And another time when I discovered how simple it was—not to mention how much more delicious it tastes—to make your own peanut butter. (Got five minutes and a blender?)

I'm constantly asking myself: How could it have taken me so long to figure this stuff out?

So this last week I decided to make a big pan of lasagne, something I've done a zillion times before. A few years ago I would have bought a container of ricotta and slathered it on the next-to-the-top layer to give a creamy, oozy richness to this Italian-American classic. But when Dave developed a problem with dairy, and with lactose-free commercial ricotta not readily available, I had to eschew that particular ingredient for several years.

Then I read somewhere that it was super easy to make your own at home. D'oh!

While, according to my friend and cookbood author Nancy Harmon-Jenkins, traditional Italian ricotta is made from the recooked whey left over from cheesemaking (ri-cotta means "recooked"), another method makes a delicious fresh cheese that's as good or better than most store-bought brands. With the availability of organic lactose-free whole milk (thank you, Organic Valley), all it requires is lemon juice and salt!

I tried it, fiddled with the timing a bit to get the texture I wanted and, like magic, the creamy softness was back in our lives. And it's so dang easy, I can guarantee that it's going to start showing up on crostini, mixed in pasta and dolloped on salads.

Homemade Ricotta-Style Cheese

For 1 cup ricotta (double to make 2 cups):

4 c. whole milk
1/3 c. fresh-squeezed lemon juice
1 tsp. salt

In a saucepan, heat milk over medium heat (you don’t want to heat it too quickly). Stirring occasionally to keep it from scalding and measuring often with an instant read thermometer, bring milk to 200°.  When it reaches 200°, remove from heat and add lemon juice and salt. Stir a couple of times to combine and let it sit for 5 minutes. (You'll notice it start to curdle and separate.)

While it’s sitting, put cheesecloth or a cloth jelly bag in a fine mesh strainer over a large bowl. Pour the contents of the pan into the lined strainer and drain, making sure to save the watery whey (see note, below). Depending on how dry you want your ricotta to be, let it sit for two to 20 minutes. Draining it for a shorter time will give you creamier ricotta, while waiting the full time will result in a dry texture. When it's reached your desired texture, taste it for salt and adjust.

NOTE: Save the whey (the watery liquid left after draining) and feed it to your chickens or pigs. If you don't have livestock, don't worry—you can feed it to your family, as well! It's very nutritious and is great added to soups, stews and sauces that benefit from a slight milkiness. (Think chowders, or a potato-leek soup.) One reader said she used the leftover whey to cook pork loin in the crock pot for pulled pork, which confirms what I'd read about the acids in the whey helping to break down meat. I've used it to make carnitas, and it worked fabulously. Try it!

Before Blue Apron and Hello Fresh, there were Hamburger Helper and Swanson's frozen dinners. Even before that, when I was growing up, when my father didn't have time to hunt down a brontosaurus à la Fred Flintstone, my mother made do with Campbell's cream of mushroom soup and an arsenal of Lipton's dehydrated products. Spanish rice, tuna casserole and pot roast were her go-to dinners, egged on by the women's magazines of the day like the Ladies Home Journal that gave busy homemakers tips on "quick dinners your family will love!"

Tamale pie was one of those dinner solutions, though in the days when most Americans considered spaghetti sauce "spicy food," its call for the addition of chili powder—actually a spice mix containing paprika, cumin, garlic powder, onion powder, oregano and maybe cayenne—was a bridge too far for many. But my dad loved him some zing, so my mom would occasionally pep up her dinner rotation with chili powder-inflected goulash or tacos with hot sauce.

I'd been looking for a tamale pie recipe for those times when I'm feeling a bit of nostalgia for the casserole dinners of my childhood, and recently a friend shared one that brought back a flood of cornmeal-scented, cheesy memories. Updated with a few adaptations using local cornmeal and pasture-raised beef, locally grown and roasted tomatoes and some tangy sharp cheddar from Organic Valley, it fit the bill perfectly. I hope it will for you, too!

Tamale Pie

2 Tbsp. vegetable oil
1 onion
2 poblano peppers, chopped in 1/4” dice
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 1/2 lbs. ground meat (beef, chicken or turkey)
2 c. roasted tomatoes
2 c. corn kernels
1/2 c. chicken stock
2 tsp. ancho chile powder
1 tsp. ground cumin
1 c. cornmeal
1 c. grated cheddar or jack cheese
Salt to taste

Preheat oven to 350°.

Heat oil in large skillet over medium high heat. (If using a cast iron skillet, you can bake the casserole in it, as well.) When it shimmers, add ground meat and sauté until the meat is browned. Add onion and sauté until tender, about 3 minutes. Add garlic and pepper and sauté until softened, about 5 minutes. Add chile powder and cumin and stir briefly, then add tomatoes, corn kernels and broth. Bring to a simmer. Salt to taste.

While meat mixture simmers, bring 2 cups water to a boil. Slowly add cornmeal, stirring vigorously to prevent lumps. Continue cooking and stirring until it becomes quite thick. Add 1 teaspoon salt, or to taste. Stir cornmeal mixture into other ingredients. Put mixture into casserole (if you are using a cast iron skillet, you can bake the casserole in this). Sprinkle cheese over the top and bake about 30 minutes.