Salvage Heart

My article on small-scale winter farming ran in Tuesday's FoodDay, the Oregonian's food section. It ran in tandem with another piece, by Kathleen Bauer who writes the Good Stuff NW blog, on some of the local markets that go through winter.

Good story for me, in that I took a lot away that I didn't know before. Seems like ten degrees is the make-or-break temp for veggies outdoors, which means that some Willamette Valley crops are now broke. (I know the beet and turnip greens, mint, and other odds and ends still in my garden are pretty scroungy looking at this point).

Probably the biggest surprise to me was the prevalence of winter shares in Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) programs...and the number of farms who have added or will add them in the next year or so. A good resource for finding what's close is the Local Harvest site.

I visited (and clumsily photographed) Shari Sirkin's Dancing Roots Farm, out at the mouth of the Columbia River Gorge, and took some pictures. She's raising greens in a couple unheated greenhouses (hoop frames), and the rest is out in the open.

Labels: agriculture, farm, farmers markets, food, journalism, Oregonian, Portland, winter

First blueberry of the season, at least on this homestead. Much riper than the low-hanging (and green) fruit that a certain two-year-old later ate.

Reminds me of two separate pitches to two certain publications, about the blueberry boom. Both wrinkled their noses, passed, and then later ran articles on the blueberry boom. Ah, the bitter taste of sour, er, green berries.

Seriously though, this was the FIRST ONE of the season. (The hushed whisper of wow echoes around the world.)

Labels: blueberries, farm, food, Oregon

The sweet taste of Bings. Dusted with the essence of a gravel lot. Under the watchful eye of Oney.

Photo taken in beautiful Elsie, Oregon.

Labels: cherries, farm, food, Oregon

Heading down to the Saturday Farmers' Market in Hollywood (NE Portland), with new, bigger family in tow, I pass Beaumont-Wilshire resident F.F. and stop to talk. It's 9 a.m., but she's already been down the hill to the market, which opens at 8.

"I was freaked out about the strawberries," she confessed. Freaked out that they might run out. Ridiculous? Yes, but not on F.F.'s part. These are the Hoods, Oregon strawberries in full season right now, sweeter and more fragile than their leathernecked southern California cousins. These berries weren't made for shipping...they start to dissolve right in your hands.

As we neared the market, one person after another came trundling out, carrying flats and half-flats of these little red devils.

So we plunked down $13 for the half-flat...six pints (prices that I saw ranged from $12.50-$15, and with pints running between $2.50 and $3 or $3.50).

They didn't look like anything special. Lots of dirt, a range in color from almost pink to almost purple, lots of shapes, some grown together. And invariably some already past prime.

I bought some horchata from a microentrepreneur. It needed a little ice. I found some.

Too many people couldn't resist eating the berries as they walked, subjecting me to something as uncomfortable as nails being filed: the image of someone biting into a large strawberry, all the way up to their gums. Bleh.

At home, washed them and went out to check our own berries (we've since eaten the three ripest). Soon, we will have our own berries. And, if this year's garden comes through, our own white beets, bibb lettuce, and fennel among other things that will probably either rot or get forgotten until mid-September.

The berries? The hype may be overripe, but the flavor is pretty sweet.

Serve with: Angel Food Cake, from a box, and Chocolate Ice Cream, from a box.

Labels: farm, food, Portland