In early October, I drove deep into Oregon’s wine country twice, but I never had a sip of wine.
While early dusk settled across downtown Portland, the sun still shone brilliantly orange a mere fifteen minutes away, casting long and dappled light onto Sauvie Island.
When Danny Gabriner first began baking bread, he gave away 1,000 loaves for free.
Americans consistently elevate Italian food culture onto a mantle of gastronomic fulfillment.
Talking about food is best on a full stomach, as the resulting discourse, often fraught and conflicted, flows best when not hindered by hunger-induced crankiness.
My husband recently rushed home from picking up a box of pasta at our local grocery store, eager to relay a conversation he’d overheard before forgetting its details.
Imagine the hardiest slice of seasonal fruit pie you’ve ever eaten, cut and served to you by two Canadian sisters baking in a space barely big enough to hold the three of you.
As much as they might crave a comfy couch, a relaxing beverage, and a sturdy ottoman, farmers don’t have the luxury of sitting down for an extended chat.
We stopped at People’s Coop several rainy Fridays ago, drawn to lower SE Portland with the idea of enjoying a smoothie from Sip before heading inside to re-fill a few bulk spice containers.
Picture a neighborhood – not an area of urban density, but a typical block of single family homes.
I’m usually not the type of person who notices cars in my daily life, but if I lived in Vancouver, British Columbia, I’m pretty sure that I’d recognize one of Victory Gardens’ trucks driving around town.
Last summer, Nathan Moomaw recruited customers for his new pastured based meat farm, Moomaw Family Farm, before owning a single animal.
Few words are as visually evocative, or as illustrative of their definition, as “tumbleweed”.
It was more than open land that I suddenly craved; I wanted to interact with more of nature’s elements than just water.
A few weeks ago, I listened to an NPR piece about the Oregon Country Fair.
There's frequently a disconnect between how people portray themselves online, and how they act in reality: the bubbliest, most engaged person on iChat ends up being taciturn and standoffish in person.
"Sorry, I take pictures of poop," Shanna Schlitz ruefully shrugged as she crouched over an unidentified specimen with her iPhone.
Since moving to Portland, I've quickly developed an appreciation for a wide range of tattoo art.
Spending time on a farm tends to lead to deep philosophical conversations about the nature of life and society.
In a food cart built from scratch, I watched Picnic's John Dovydenas and Jen Cox form bread from giant containers of yeasted dough, roast carrots into softly blistered orange chunks, slice freshly roasted Kookoolan chickens to order, and hand customers hearty, creative cookie combinations like olive oil and pine nut.
When salsify showed up in our CSA share a few months ago, I tucked a whiskery bunch of the vegetable into our bag with curiosity.
Portland is currently the capital of the independent craftsman (as Crafty Wonderland's recent massive, convention-hall-sized-spread of Etsy sellers clearly illustrated).
Our modern interest in homesteading is more than a fleeting pursuit.
You'd be forgiven for believing that goat herding, as a profession, doesn't exist in the United States.
The Saturday before we traveled to England, I found myself easily able to predict what fruit we'd find at the farmers' market, and planned accordingly.
On a recent episode of Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations, Bourdain explored Austin, Texas during the insanity of the South by Southwest (SXSW) music festival.
If you and I closed our eyes and simultaneously thought of summer foods, I bet we'd come up with similar lists: tomatoes, corn, peppers, watermelon, beans.
Harry Short grows varieties of vegetables that you've never heard of.
Sugar snap peas, snow peas, shelling peas, and fava beans.
I know I should have posted a "Fresh from the Market" on rhubarb before I shared the last two rhubarb recipes, but when thinking about baking versus writing, espeically with fresh rhubarb in the fridge, I had no choice but to bake first, and write later.
I've taken to eating radishes as the French do: whole, served with one ramekin of whipped butter and another of chunky sea salt.
The images are in chronological order in the gallery.
A girl from a large, close-knit Kansas family graduates high school and moves East.
On Monday, I spent three hours in a Sunset Park industrial kitchen with Alison Walla of Butter + Love.
In my mind, the reason "Brussels sprouts" is capitalized is because they're some of the best vegetables around.
We enjoyed an apricot filled weekend, making and eating a delicious apricot crumb cake and enjoying Kevin West’s smooth apricot jam on our toast.
I’ve noticed a common thread among the local artisans, farmers, and purveyors I most admire: they’ve each learned to accept, and even embrace, nuance and unpredictability without sacrificing the quality of their product.
Zucchini can be so much more than a bland addition to the side salad you’re planning on pushing around with your fork.
I’ve eaten favas before this summer, but I’d never cooked with them-- meaning that I’d never had the pleasure of uncovering the vibrant green bean pod, layer by layer.
The Fresh from the Market posts have gone by the wayside for awhile--but not without awareness on this end!
I’d first tried Rachel’s Pies at the inaugural Fort Greene Brooklyn Flea of the summer.
Ramps, nettles, fiddleheads.
Asparagus is here!
I love parsnips, especially when paired with carrots.
It distresses me that too many children (and adults) first associate carrots with those baby carrots with ranch dip, served alongside celery: the stereotypical crudite platter.
When Nils Wessell, the one-man woodworker/proprietor/owner of Brooklyn Butcher Blocks agreed to meet me at 'the pie shop', there was no confusion as to which pie shop he meant: Gowanus’ Four and Twenty Blackbirds—THE pie shop, at least in our opinions.
I have to be honest: I find acorn squash to be beautiful on the outside and lackluster on the inside.
I admit to knowing very little about the differences between pear varieties.
My first time exploring Etsy was also the first time I noticed Bailey Doesn’t Bark.
Today’s chillier, rainy weather may have elicited groans and snooze buttons from some, but I was actually excited to wake up to a dreary Monday.