Home Grown Chef: Buffalo
A century and a half after they were hunted to near extinction, the American buffalo has made a comeback.
A century and a half after they were hunted to near extinction, the American buffalo has made a comeback.
Tim Eckard from The Heathman Restaurant & Bar in Portland shares his favorite way to cook bison.
Home Grown Chef Thor Erickson shares his recipe for buffaloaf.
One of my favorite things to eat is a ripe Bartlett pear—so ripe that I can barely hold it. So ripe that when I bite into it, I barely feel the skin yield to my teeth and the juice runs down my chin. So ripe that the flavor resembles a sweet perfume.
I COULD SAY MY earliest memory of blueberries was picking them on a sultry August day beside a cool stream at my grandparents’ farm, and that I put more in my mouth than in the bucket, and there almost weren’t enough for grandma’s pie that night. In fact, my earliest memories of blueberries were the TV commercials about the stains they caused on dentures.
I was raised by a man for whom a perfectly grilled burger was, and still is, almost next to holiness. He follows a strict 80-percent-meat-to-20-percent-fat rule. To serve him a low-fat burger is practically a cardinal sin.
written by Carrie Cook Minns I was coerced into slurping down my first oyster during my teenage years. My friend and I huddled on the far end of her deck, avoiding the adult revelers at her family’s barbeque. The adults weren’t going to let us escape that easily, and taunted, “Oh, come on. You can’t grow up in the Northwest and not have slurped down an oyster.” There was even chanting, “Do it! Do it!” And so I did. Not an instant convert, I never contemplated eating another oyster until my sister married an oyster lover. For his first Thanksgiving with our family, my brother-in-law brought a corn and oyster soufflé. Their family vacations (even their honeymoon) always seemed to take place near bodies of water with fresh oysters. This past summer, they returned from vacation with stories of the hundreds of oysters they had harvested and how my 9-year-old…
As a youngster, I would not eat peaches unless they were canned yellow cling slices in light syrup without skins. If I were going to eat something fresh and peach-like, I preferred the nectarine. The thought of biting into fuzzy skin was akin to licking the fur of my Siamese cat.
I’ll admit that when someone says, “Let’s get together. My house. Friday,” part of the draw is the wine. It’s true. Almost as equally alluring are the appetizers. I am fortunate to be surrounded by friends who know how to fill a counter with all kinds of scrumptious tidbits. One friend always treats us to bowls of soup—spicy vegetarian, curried pumpkin—and plates of salad with roasted veggies with quinoa, chickpea and feta. Another friend does vegetables, fruit, dips, cheeses and spreads that we layer to create our own tasty bites.
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