Archive for March, 2012

Wild Mustard Potato Chips

wild mustard potato chips 350x344 Wild Mustard Potato Chips

As close as I got to oven-baked wild mustard potato chips.

“They’re practically potato chips!” Gregg exclaimed, helping himself to more of the thin-sliced, seasoned, golden-brown oven-fried potatoes until they were gone. I’m not sure which enthralls him more—my recent food inventions, or the fact that I am cooking at all.

Now that I can stand up on my own two feet (after 5 weeks off I am now to start putting weight on my injured leg), it is a joy to be in the kitchen. I cook, I clean; I must be a housewife.

The chips didn’t come out as crunchy as I’d hoped. I did them on a cookie sheet in the oven because I didn’t want to deep fry, although online recipes say to use a rack so the hot oven air can circle them entirely. Then there’s a bit, too, about flipping them manually, with which I didn’t want to bother.

So, I used a food processor to slice the potatoes fine, stirred in a mixture of olive oil and wild mustard, and stuck them in the oven on a greased cookie sheet at 350 degrees for an hour, unsticking and stirring with a spatula occasionally. The ones that turned golden were crunchy indeed, the others just a bit chewy. It was enough to ensure all were eaten in one sitting regardless. Read the rest of this entry

Dock Time is the Right Time

dock cream cheese spreads2 350x264 Dock Time is the Right Time

Two dock cream cheese spreads–one with garlic, the other with salmon.

I never would have thought it was already dock (Rumex sp.) time of year again were it not for my friend Butter and the pristine metro-Denver-area suburbia full of wild green vegetables where she resides, in contrast to the still snow-covered High Country in which I dwell. But on March 7 she wrote to me: “Knock knock! Who’s there?” and then answered her own question: “Dock!”

“It was close to 70 here yesterday, which melted the last of the snow from the ground,” Butter wrote. “I took a ride today (once again in the 30′s and snowing), and surveyed the ground. The dock plants in the sunnier areas of the fields have leaves which are 1-2″ long! I estimate that in about 2 weeks, they’ll be long enough to pick the first leaves.” Oh, Front Range Denver, I sighed. It’s like the Garden of Eden.

Sure enough and earlier than predicted, Butter picked her first batch on March 14. I know because she squealed happily to Facebookland about it, announcing plans for “a nice coconut-laced dock curry.” Honestly I am more excited than jealous.

For those who do not yet know, Butterpoweredbike mans a monthly wild food recipe-sharing event and this month she’s chosen her beloved Rumex to star in it. Send in your dock recipes or post about them and send her a link to participate, or just check back at the month’s end for a wealth of cooking/foraging ideas. Even wild food greats like veteran foraging-vegetarian, Wildman Steve Brill out of NY, sometimes participate. Read the rest of this entry

Confessions of a Pine Nut Nut

Nevada pine nuts 350x262 Confessions of a Pine Nut Nut

Heavenly Nevada pine nuts.

Okay so first off I have a confession about my new found pine nut obsession, which I decided to find a worthy subject for the blog despite the fact—and here comes the confession—that I did not forage them myself. No, rather, my parents purchased them for me from the grocery store.

It says “New Crop Nevada Pine Nuts” on the small label, along with a cute pine tree and a PO address. This is all I know for certain of the purveyor of this fine pine product, who send me manna from heaven in this my time of greatest need. They cost $10 a bag at City Market in Breckenridge and already mom’s bought five for me, despite what seems an exorbitant price. I love them love them love them love them.

Wild-foraged pine nuts I go back four years to California’s Eastern Sierra and evoke several memories. In my quit-smoking days I would purchase them at Mahogany Smoked Meats in Bishop (which makes the best teriyaki jerky in the world, IMHOP) to consume in lieu of cigarettes on the endless trip from Mammoth to LA and back again. Once in those days I went with my roommate to wild-forage some ourselves, only to be beaten to the crop by legions of tiny insects. Read the rest of this entry