May 19, 2012

More Northwest cooking

Filed under: Uncategorized — theresaurus @ 10:49 am

More from the Time-Life series about Northwest cooking. Clams steamed with dry vermouth, parsley, garlic powder, French bread for dipping into the broth. Salmon roe exported to Japan. Driftwood-planked salmon; stuffed salmon wrapped in kelp and buried in coals. Seafood stew. Venison with cranberry ketchup (fresh cranberries, onions, vinegar, cinnamon, clove, allspice, celery seeds, salt and pepper). Berry pie.

“Parting boughs of cedar, we entered a clearing and saw an abandoned cabin. A plank path led across the soggy ground toward more woods, and we followed it. Frogs and toads, green, brown and black, some not bigger than a pinkie nail, hopped away in every direction, to the children’s enormous delight. At the forest edge we encountered a wall of black huckleberries, and there we stayed for the greater part of the afternoon, happily filling our pails to the brim. Home again, Liet and our sister-in-law Mollie put aside enough berries for a pie and reserved the rest for a jam that would be spiced with cinnamon and cloves. In preparing the pie, Mollie dispensed with a bottom crust, ‘which gets soggy anyway,’ and piled the berries into a deep dish. When the pie came from the oven, the flaky crust floated on the the berries. … During the rest of our trip through the Northwest we kept a constant eye out for berries of all sorts. We looked for the exotic — the saskatoons of Saskatchewan, the nagoonberries, or wineberries of Alaska — but we did not pass up the familiar. In Oregon, we saw roadsides thick with blackberry bushes, some four to five feet tall. These so-called Himalayas are scorned by some of our Oregon friends. They prefer the earlier-growing variety known as the Western trailing blackberry, or bewberry, which ripens in midsummer and trails along the ground. The dewberries, they claimed, were the real pie berries. Nevertheless, I walked slowly along the clustered bushes and reached into them to take the Himalayas, some so ripe they fell right into my hand. Their sun-warmed flavor might have been paler than that of the dewberries, as my friends insisted, but I found them wonderfully sweet, and full of juice.”



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