Things have gotten more interesting on many fronts, including the food front, here at LivingSmall, because we have a new sweetheart — we’ll call him the Mighty Hunter (MH). He hunts, and fishes, and pounds nails and cooks, and one night last week he called to say he was going to cook me dinner. “Great,” I said. “What are we having?” “Antelope liver,” he answered. When there was a long pause on my end, he said “Is that all right?” I’m not big on organ meats, but I’m game, so I said sure, but suggested that maybe we might need…
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When I was in France a couple of years ago, we shopped in the local ville most nights. it was more expensive than going to the big Carrefour warehouse store, but it was much more convenient and we liked the idea of supporting the local economy. Plus the butcher was loquacious and fun to visit, and despite his heavy Provencal accent, after a few days, I began to understand him and could converse a little. It was a lovely store — not only cuts of meat, but any number of prepared foods as well, and if you wanted to buy…
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Thinking about food, that is. The San Francisco Chronicle has been running a whole series called The Faces of Organic — there’s this profile of Jim Cochran, who started Swanton Berry Farm and grows organic strawberries (regular strawberries use approximately one ton of pesticide per acre). There’s a good piece on Earthbound Farms, about which I have such mixed feelings. It’s definitely organic, but also industrial, which I find troubling — the article does a good job parsing the issues. There’s a nice piece on Clover Stornetta — organic milk from non-industrial co-ops is one of my pet issues —…
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The garden is starting to come in again — fresh chives on my morning egg for the past couple of weeks, the mint is coming back so my morning pot of tea tastes fresh and green again, and as always, onions are poking up from all sorts of odd places among the perennials. I’ve begun planting, the tomato, pepper, eggplant and cucumber seedlings are in the cold frame. And it’s spring, so I’m craving greens — spinach or asparagus, for example. But at the supermarket I look at those crinkly packages of baby spinach, or mixed greens and I just…
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For big dead animals. I drove up to Suce Creek this morning to run the dogs, and there were two guys standing looking into the bed of a pickup truck. Once of them was wearing camoflage, always a tip-off. So as the boys ran up the hill in search of grouse, I walked over and took a peek. “What’d you get?” I asked. “A moose,” the one guy said. “That’s not a moose!”I said looking at the big black dead animal, “The antlers are wrong.” It was a very beautiful, dark, almost black elk. He was nestled in the bed…
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A guy came to my door today selling fish. More specifically, a ratty old blue mini-pickup pulled up in front of my house, a truck with a chest freezer in the bed, and a guy got out and came bounding up my steps with the false cheer of a true door-to-door salesman. I was on a conference call at the time, and I tried to get rid of him by telling him I was on a call, that I work at home. “What time do you get off work?” he said. “I don’t buy things from people who come to…
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It’s HOT. Too hot to go look for mushrooms. Too hot to do much but close all the windows in the morning, draw the sunscreen blinds, and hunker down until the evening thunderstorms roll through. The good news is that my tomatoes and peppers and zucchini and eggplants should like it … As to the freezer part … it was hot tonight. I wasn’t terribly hungry, but I did want some dinner. And despite the many greens I grow, I don’t really love salad. I love cooked greens, but salad, not so much. Don’t know why, it’s just the way…
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It’s mushroom season here in Montana and I’ve spent much of the weekend obsessively wandering the bottomlands along the Yellowstone in pursuit of the beautiful, fragrant, and elusive morel. It started on Saturday morning, when Maryanne’s friend Tice took us down to the sweet spot by the sewage treatment plant where her family has been hunting morels for years. A little backstory here, Maryanne and I have any number of friends who hunt mushrooms — big men, some of whom are known as famous outdoorsmen. Would they share their spots with us? Would they take us out so we could…
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So — now that it’s spring, and I’ve got teeny tiny little spinach (and arugula) seedlings poking up in the garden, I find myself most nights rooting around in the bottom bin of my basement freezer pulling out packets of spinach and chard I put up last summer. When I put them up, I envisioned myself eating them in deepest January, when the snow was piled up around my wee Montana house. Of course, we had no snow this winter, but nonetheless, what did I eat this winter? It wasn’t frozen greens from downstairs — I don’t know now what…
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It must be a spring thing, but every year about this time, I become obsessed with green sauce. I want it on everything — grilled chicken, poached salmon, steamed cauliflower, my morning cheese toast. Green sauce varies — this spring’s version is slightly Indian — I was going for that great green sauce you get in Indian restaurants but I wound up with something slightly chunkier. Basically, here’s what I did. I took a bunch of scallions out of the bottom of the fridge that were slightly past their time, washed them and trimmed off all the skeevy bits, cut…