Eugene, Oregon

Mon Cher Madame Colette,   

If you’d have come to the Oregon Truffle Festival, you’d have had truffles. You might have even discovered that there is such a thing as too many truffles.

There was white chocolate cocoa in the morning with truffled schlag, there were truffled eggs, there were potatoes with edamame and spicy chorizo and shaved truffle. There was truffled chicken and dumplings served for lunch along with a bacon, lettuce, tomato and truffle butter sandwich. Jason French, the owner of restaurant Ned Ludd, would woo you, cherie, with a truffled white bean hummus and wood fired flatbread, truffled wood- fired roasted hen legs and a truffle panna cotta with marsala sauce that just might rearrange your view of the universe. Then, even after sampling the finalists in this Year’s One Big Table Recipe Contest — Merry Graham’s Parsnip and Celery Root Soup with Shaved White Oregon Truffle, the Pacific Rockfish Brandade with Shaved Truffles invented by Erika Kerekes, and Pam Norby’s Black Truffled Venison Ravioli — yes, even after all that, Josh Feathers, the chef at Blackberry Farm in Walland, TN, would still be able to lure you with his slow-cooked, truffle-infused short ribs.

And then, feeling not unlike a very large, stuffed, truffle barded joint of meat, you just might feel the need to re-examine your famous quote, Madame Colette.

It is possible that there is such as thing as too many truffles.  I had too many in Eugene Oregon.

J’embrace,     

M. O’Neill

Celery Root, Truffled Remoulade, and Hazelnuts

Ingredients:

• celery root, peeled and trimmed and julienned into matchsticks
• 2 Braeburn apples, julienned into
• 3 eggs, separated
• 1 cup oil
• juice of 2 lemons
• 1 tablespoons capers, drained and chopped
• 1 tablespoon tarragon stemmed and chopped
• 2 tablespoons parsley, stemmed and chopped
• 1 tablespoon chives, thinly sliced2 tablespoons cornichons, minced
• 1/2 ounce white truffles, minced
• 1 cup hazelnuts, roasted, skinned and chopped

1. Make a loose mayonnaise with the egg yolks, lemon juice and oil. Start by whipping the egg yolks and half the lemon juice until light in color and creamy in texture. Season with salt and start adding the oil a few drops at a time, whisking constantly. Once an emulsion is achieved, you can add the oil more quickly. Adjust the texture with lemon and salt. If the mayonnaise is still too thick a small amount of cold water may be added.

2. Fold in the remaining ingredients and allow to sit covered in the refrigerator for a few hours for the flavors to meld.

3. Dress the celery root and apple with enough remoulade to coat. Plate and cover with chopped, roasted hazelnuts.

Yield: 4-6 servings

Vanilla & Truffle Panna Cotta, Marsala Syrup

This is also delicious with a finely-made quince jelly or pear cabernet jam such as the ones made by Rebecca Staffel at Deluxe

 

 

Ingredients:

• 2 cups heavy cream
• 1 cup sugar
• 1/4 ounces white truffles, minced
• 1/2 vanilla bean, split lengthwise and scraped
• 2 sheets gelatin
• 1 cup marsala

1. Scald the cream with half the sugar, truffles and vanilla bean.

2. Soften the gelatin in cold water and temper with a ladle of cream. Add back to the cream and stir to incorporate.

3. Strain the mixture and pour into individual cups or ramekins. Place in the refrigerator to set.

4. Bring the marsala and remaining sugar to a boil and reduce by half. Cool before serving.

5. Serve panna cotta with marsala syrup drizzled on top.

Serves 4-6

Parsnip and Celery Root Soup with Shaved White Truffles and Pomegranate Arils

Pomegranate arils are used as a garnish here to add a pop of tartness, contrasting color, and a unique crunch. If pomegranates are not in season, additional shaved truffles would be great with the chopped chives along with a squeeze of fresh lemon juice.

Ingredients:

• 3 tablespoons olive oil
• 2 cups chopped leeks, white and tender green parts only
• 4 large parsnips, cleaned and cubed (equivalent to 4 cups chopped parsnips)
• 1 small celery root, peeled and cubed (equivalent to 2 cups chopped celery root)
• 2 cloves garlic, peeled and smashed (equivalent to 1 tablespoon finely chopped garlic)
• 6 cups chicken stock (preferably not low sodium)
• 1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves
• 1/4 cup shaved white truffles, plus more to taste
• 1 cup heavy (whipping) cream
• 1 1/2 teaspoons pink Himalayan salt or sea salt
• 1 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
• chopped chives, for garnish (about 1 teaspoon per bowl)
• pomegranate arils, for garnish (about 1/2 tablespoon per bowl)

1. Heat olive oil in a stockpot over medium-high heat. Add leeks and cook until soft and fragrant, about 8 minutes. Add cubed parsnips, celery root, and garlic and sauté for another 5 minutes.

2. Add stock and thyme leaves, and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to a simmer and cook for 25-30 minutes, or until the vegetables are very soft and cooked through.

3. Transfer vegetables to a blender or food processor (or use an immersion blender to blend vegetables and broth directly in stockpot). Purée in batches with stock until smooth (use caution when blending hot liquids).

4. Transfer purée back to stockpot. Stir in heavy cream and warm to desired temperature over low-medium heat. Season to taste with salt and freshly ground pepper. 

5. Shave white truffles into soup and stir. Taste and add an additional 1/2 teaspoon salt, if necessary. Taste again and add more truffle shavings, if desired.

6. Ladle soup into bowls. Sprinkle each serving with chives and place 1/2 tablespoon pomegranate arils in the center. The shaved white truffles will sink to the bottom of the bowls if the soup is not served immediately; if this occurs, stir again just before serving.

Yield: 9 cups of soup

Black Truffle-Venison Ravioli and 3 Onion Reduction

Ingredients:

• 1/2 pound venison
• 1/4 cup green onion
• 4 tablespoons olive oil, divided
• 1/2 teaspoon dried basil
• 1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
• salt and pepper to taste
• 1 large egg
• 1/2 cup grated Parmesan, divided
• 2 – 3 tablespoons Oregon black truffles, minced
• 20 fresh ravioli sheets
• 1 whole onion, peeled and sliced
• 4 shallots, peeled and sliced
• 1 leek, cleaned, trimmed and sliced (white part only)
• 1/2 cup dry white wine
• 3 cups chicken stock
• 1 whole Oregon truffle, thinly sliced, for garnish
• sliced chives, for garnish

 
 
1. In a food processor fitted with a metal blade, pulse the venison and green onion until almost smooth, with a few chunks remaining.

2. Heat 2 tablespoons olive oil in a skillet over medium heat. Add the venison along with the basil, thyme, salt, and pepper. Cook until the meat is no longer pink, about 3-4 minutes. Take off the heat and allow to cool.

3. Add the egg, 1/4 cup of the parmesan, and the minced truffle to the venison and mix well to combine.

4. Arrange ravioli sheets on a work surface and place 1 scant tablespoon filling in each. Press to seal. 

5. Heat remaining 2 tablespoons olive oil in a large saucepan over medium heat. Cook the onions, shallots, and leek until translucent, about 8-10 minutes.

6. Raise heat to medium-high and deglaze the pan with the wine. When all of the wine has evaporated, add stock and salt and pepper to taste. Reduce broth by 1/3.

7. Add ravioli to the broth and simmer for 2-3 minutes, or until they float.

8. Remove ravioli with a slotted spoon and reduce broth further, until it has reached a syrup-like consistency.

9. Plate ravioli with a pool of the reduced broth, and garnish with thinly shaved truffles, chive slices and finishing salt, if you like.

Yield: 20 ravioli
Serves 10 as an appetizer, 5 as a main course

 Pacific Rockfish Brandade  with Truffles and Cucumber 

Ingredients:

• 1 pound Pacific rockfish filets (or substitute another mild, white fish)
• 1 large Idaho baking potato, peeled and cut into 2-inch chunks
• 6 ounces crème fraîche
• 3/4 teaspoon salt
• 2 ounces Oregon white truffles, grated
• 3-4 Persian cucumbers, rinsed well and ends trimmed off
• fleur de sel, for garnish

1. Place a steamer basket inside a large pot and line it with a piece of parchment paper. Add an inch or two of water to the pot and bring it to a boil. Put the fish on one side of the steamer and the potato chunks on the other side. Cover the pot and steam for 7 minutes, or until the fish is tender. Remove the fish and continue to steam the potatoes until they’re soft, another 10-15 minutes.
 
2. Place the fish and crème fraîche to the bowl of your food processor and purée until smooth. Add the cooked potato, salt and most of the fresh truffle, and process in short bursts until the mixture is smooth (potatoes get gluey when they’re pureed too aggressively, so be careful not to over-process them). Taste and add more salt if necessary. Put the mixture in the refrigerator and chill thoroughly.
 
4. While the fish mixture is cooling, peel alternating strips of the cucumber lengthwise, leaving an equal amount of peel. Cut the cucumbers into 1/2-inch lengths, then use a melon baller to scoop out some of the flesh, taking care not to pierce the bottom. You want to end up with pieces that will stand up on their own and have neat little depressions waiting to be filled.
 
5. Transfer the cold fish mousse to a pastry bag or zip-top plastic bag and pipe it into the cucumber cups. Garnish with the remaining grated truffle and a few grains of fleur de sel. Serve immediately.

Yield: 8 servings (assume 3 pieces per person)

For the past few years, truffles lovers have been startled by the pungency of Orgeon Truffles. For decades, the truffles — both black Périgord-style and the white truffle often associated with Italy’s Alba region — have often been pale imitators of their European cousins. But suddenly, the delicacy from the Oregon woods is a contender. One Big Table teamed up with the Oregon Truffle Festival for a recipe contest using the local “gold.” The finalists have been chosen and the competition is stiff.

I’m on my way to Eugene to learn how to hunt with the famed Italian truffle dogs from Blackberry Farm, take a lesson in truffle raking with Jack Czarnecki, the legendary forager, learn about the domestication of truffles from Charles Lefevre, the scientist who has changed the face of Oregon truffles, and to choose this year’s winning recipes. The giant leap forward in Oregon truffles comes just in time. This year there is a shortage of white truffles from Alba that has many chefs wringing their hands. Here is a link to a story that CBS morning did on the situation several weeks ago.  

Stay tuned for truffle hunting, truffle lore, truffle dogs — and more — over the next few days from the Oregon Truffle Festival. 

A toast to the innocent notion that love can be contained: The World’s Best Chocolate Cupcake… A slide into the silky fire of senseless abandon: Chili-Fired Bittersweet Chocolate Pots de Crème… An ode to building a life, layer by layer: Thousand-Layer Cake… And to the other loves, bother, sister, mother, and baby love, best-girlfriend and old boyfriend love, the elderly woman next door, the memory of loss along the way. All the loves that can’t be explained and won’t go away, those sentimental valentines, a funky, nostalgic Red Velvet Cake.

Josie Rae-Tomlinson’s Superior Cupcakes
Los Angeles, California

(Adapted from “One Big Table: A Portrait of American Cooking”)

Fifteen-year-old Josie Rae-Tomlinson began baking nearly a decade ago. Her confections astounded her elders and ignited talk of Beethoven’s earliest symphonies. Ms. Rae-Tomlinson was not impressed. She was born to bake. Now a student at Emma Willard Academy, she bakes for her housemates, her friends back home, and toward the idea of first love. First love after cupcake love, that is—first human love.

For the cupcakes:

• 2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/2 pound (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
• 1 cup granulated sugar
• 1 cup firmly packed light brown sugar
• 4 large eggs, at room temperature
• 6 ounces bittersweet or semisweet chocolate, melted and cooled until warm, not hot
• 1 cup buttermilk
• 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

For the vanilla icing:

• 1/2 pound (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
• 6 to 8 cups confectioners’ sugar (see note in Step 4)
• 1/2 cup milk (preferably nonfat, but any kind will do)
• 2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
• food coloring (optional)

1. Preheat the oven to 350ºF. Line two 12-cup cupcake tins with cupcake papers. Sift the flour and baking soda together into a small bowl.

2. In a large bowl, cream the butter until smooth with an electric mixer on medium speed. Add the granulated and brown sugars and beat until fluffy, about 3 minutes. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. Add the chocolate, mixing until well incorporated. Add the flour mixture in three parts, alternating with the buttermilk and vanilla. With each addition, beat until the ingredients are incorporated, but do not over-beat. Using a rubber spatula, scrape down the batter in the bowl to make sure the ingredients are well blended and the batter is smooth.

3. Carefully spoon the batter into the cupcake tins, filling the cups about three-quarters full. Bake for 20 to 25 minutes, until a cake tester inserted in the center of the cupcake comes out clean. Cool the cupcakes in the tins for 15 minutes.

4. Meanwhile, make the icing by placing the butter in a large mixing bowl. Add 4 cups of the sugar, then the milk and vanilla. With an electric mixer on medium speed, beat until smooth and creamy, 3 to 5 minutes. If you are adding more sugar, now is the time to do that. If you want to make your icing more festive, add a few drops of food coloring and mix thoroughly.

5. To ice the cupcakes, remove them from the tins and cool completely on a wire rack. Use a spatula or knife to apply icing to suit. Some, like me, want nothing more than a “schmear”; others like to add more confectioner’s sugar and create a high bonnet of icing.

Makes 24 cupcakes

Spiced Dark Chocolate Pots de Crème
Provincetown, Massachusetts

Jeff Houston was a pastry chef who worked with me for the decade that I ran restaurants. He created this version of his famed bittersweet-chocolate pots de crème shortly before his death, in 1981.

• 1 3/4 cup heavy cream
• 1/4 cup milk
• 1 tablespoon finely ground espresso beans
• 2 cinnamon sticks, cut in half, or 2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
• 1 teaspoon cayenne pepper
• 3 ounces bittersweet chocolate, finely chopped
• 1 ounce unsweetened chocolate, finely chopped
• 4 egg yolks
• 3 tablespoons dark brown sugar
• 1/8 teaspoon kosher salt
• whipped cream, crème fraîche, or mascarpone cheese, for garnish

1. Preheat the oven to 300ºF. Place 6 4-ounce ramekins or espresso cups in a baking dish and set aside. Combine the cream, milk, espresso, cinnamon, and cayenne in a heavy-bottomed pot over low heat, bring to a boil. Whisk in the chocolates until smooth, cover, remove from heat, and set aside for 30 minutes. Pour the mixture through a fine mesh strainer and return to low heat.

2. Combine the egg yolks, sugar, and salt in a bowl and whisk to combine and thicken. When the chocolate mixture is simmering, remove it from heat and begin to add the chocolate mixture to the egg-yolk mixture a tiny bit at a time, whisking constantly. Strain the mixture through the fine mesh strainer into a pitcher.

3. Carefully divide the mixture between the ramekins and place each in the baking pan. Carefully add very hot water to the pan to reach halfway up the sides of the ramekins. Cover the baking pan with foil, place in the oven, and bake until the edges are firm but the custard jiggles at the center, 30 to 35 minutes. Remove from oven, remove from water bath, and cool the custard on racks to room temperate. Refrigerate for three hours and serve with lightly sweetened heavy cream, crème fraîche, or mascarpone.

Serves 6

Carolyn Margolis’s Thousand-Layer Cake
Washington, D.C.

There may not actually be a thousand layers in this cake, but chances are, no one is counting. With marshmallow cream between layers of delicious génoise, the cake is an instant crowd pleaser and has won bids at local wine and food auctions . It’s the grand finale at the Margolises just about every Thanksgiving. The original recipe, from Ms. Margolis’s grandmother—who included it in a handwritten cookbook she gave each of her three daughters—required eight 8-inch layer-cake pans. Now Ms. Margolis bakes four layers and slices them in half. “It’s faster,” she says.

For the cake:

• 6 large eggs, separated
• 1 cup sugar
• 1 cup all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

For the filling:

• 1/2 pound (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
• One 16-ounce jar marshmallow cream (preferably Marshmallow Fluff)
• 1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa powder

For the icing:

• 4 ounces unsweetened chocolate
• 1/2 cup confectioner’s sugar, or more as needed
• 1/2 cup heavy cream, or more as needed

1. Preheat the oven to 350ºF. Grease four 8-inch round cake pans.

2. To make the cake: Beat the egg whites until stiff, slowly adding the sugar. Add the yolks one at a time, beating after each addition. Stir in the flour and vanilla.

3. Divide the batter among the prepared pans. Bake about 20 minutes, until the cakes pull away from the sides of the pans. Check the layers with a cake tester, which should come out clean.

4. Cool in the pans for 5 minutes, then turn out of the pans and cool completely on wire racks.

5. To make the filling: In a medium bowl, thoroughly mix the butter, marshmallow cream, and cocoa powder.

6. To make the icing: Melt the chocolate in the top of a double boiler. Remove from the heat and beat in 1/2 cup confectioner’s sugar and 1/2 cup cream. The mixture should resemble mayonnaise; add confectioner’s sugar and cream as needed to get the right consistency.

7. Cut each layer in half horizontally. Divide and spread the filling over each of seven layers. Stack them and top with the eighth layer. Frost the top and sides of the cake with the icing. The cake is best when fresh, but can be refrigerated.

Serves many

Tayari Jones’s Red Velvet Cake
Atlanta, Georgia

Author Tayari Jones grew up in Atlanta and adores red velvet cake. The cake features prominently in her second novel, “The Untelling.” She serves it at her readings and book signings and bakes it for friends. She says it is a truly Southern dessert: “The equivalent of wearing crinolines under your skirt. It’s a symbol of what it means to be a Southern woman. But it is also a great equalizer—white Southerners and black Southerners have equal claim to it. Yes, there’s red dye in it, but so what? One of my friends complained about the amount in my mama’s recipe—it calls for 1 1/2 ounces. That’s about a bottle and a half. To make the cake taste right (let alone look right), you’re going to have to use the coloring. If you remove that much liquid from your cake, it’s going to be dry. And it’s going to look stupid. If you’re afraid of red food color, make another cake.”

For the cake:

• 2 1/2 cups sifted all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
• 1 teaspoon kosher salt
• 1 teaspoon unsweetened cocoa powder
• 10 tablespoons plus 2 teaspoons (1 1/3 sticks) unsalted butter or margarine, softened
• 2/3 cup vegetable oil
• 1 1/2 cups sugar
• 2 large eggs
• 1 teaspoon distilled white vinegar
• 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
• 1 1/2 ounces (3 tablespoons) red food coloring
• 1 cup buttermilk

For the cream cheese frosting:

• 10 tablespoons plus 2 teaspoons (1 1/3 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
• 8 ounces cream cheese, softened
• 3/4 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
• 2 2/3 cups confectioners’ sugar
• 2/3 cup chopped pecans

1. Preheat the oven to 350ºF. Line bottom of three 8-inch round baking pans with waxed or parchment paper. Grease the sides of the pans.

2. To make the cake: Sift together the flour, baking soda, salt, and cocoa.

3. Combine the butter or margarine and vegetable oil using an electric mixer. Add the sugar and cream until fluffy. Beat in the eggs one at a time. Add the vinegar and vanilla and mix until fluffy. Stir in the food coloring.

4. Fold in the flour mixture, alternating with buttermilk.

5. Divide the batter evenly among the three pans. Bake about 25 minutes, until a cake tester comes out clean (a few crumbs are OK).

6. Cool briefly in the pans, then turn out onto wire racks to cool to room temperature.

7. To make the frosting: Cream the butter and cream cheese, using an electric mixer, until light and fluffy. Add the vanilla and mix well, then stir in confectioners’ sugar on low speed. Mix until creamy and smooth.

8. Assemble cake with frosting between the layers and on the sides and top. Sprinkle the top with chopped pecans.

Serves many

Nobody’s sorry to say goodbye to the Chinese Year of the Tiger, with its roaring bad luck, snarling bad moods, and seemingly inexhaustible supply of bad news. Scholars of the Chinese zodiac blame Tiger for the devastated economy, nasty politics, global unrest, Biblical snow and ice, as well as low self-esteem and high health-insurance premiums.

A collective exhale has been blowing through Chinatown (along with acrtic winds and a few more feet of snow)  as the neighborhood prepares to greet lunar year 4079 and its guiding spirit, Rabbit. In addition to the relief that some cosmic ASPCA is about to capture Tiger and move him to a heavily guarded, no-kill facility upstate, there is also a growing conviction that Rabbit can deliver us from Tiger’s Axis of Evil. Or at least serve as a reminder that tenderness, fecundity, and the occasional lighthearted hop are options.

In recent days, Grace Young, author of Stir-Frying to the Sky’s Edge, has experienced a growing sense of optimism. In her case, it is not clear whether Rabbit or well-earned luck is responsible for  what she calls “a most auspicious beginning of the year”—a recent passel of glowing press mentions and her appearance this morning on The Martha Stewart Show. Ms. Young is quick to point out that there is a reason why people carry a rabbit’s foot for luck. I would like to point out that there is a reason why people are responding to her most recent book. It’s wonderful.

Full of fresh, fast, vegetable-centric recipes that are low in fat, high in flavor, and seasoned with (but not dependent upon) meat,  Stir-Frying to the Sky’s Edge is a book for a time-pressed, health-concerned, belt-tightened world. While they’re magnificently updated, the recipes leap from a cooking tradition based on an acute awareness of the cost of cooking energy—both in terms of fuel and chop-chop—that Americans are only now beginning to consider. In addition, the Chinese understanding of food as medicine for the body is so longstanding as to have become instinctual, and this frees the cook to pursue the unbridled deliciousness that has been known to make ears perk and noses quiver.

Classic Dry-Fried Pepper and Salt Shrimp
New York, New York

There are many version of this beloved dry stir-fry. The absence of liquid in the stir-fry allows you to experience a concentrated shrimp flavor accented by garlic, ginger, chilies, and Sichuan peppercorns. For this reason, it’s imperative to use the freshest ingredients. In recent years, my fishmonger has been carrying fresh shrimp, and in this recipe you can really taste the difference. Defrosted frozen shrimp will work; just make sure they’re of the best quality possible.

• 2 tablespoons plus 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1 pound large shrimp, peeled and deveined
• 1/4 teaspoon sugar
• 1/4 teaspoon roasted and ground Sichuan peppercorns
• 2 tablespoons peanut or vegetable oil
• 1 tablespoon minced garlic
• 1 tablespoon minced ginger
• 1 teaspoon minced jalapeño chili, with seeds

1. In a large bowl, combine 1 tablespoon of the salt with 1 quart cold water. Add the shrimp and swish the shrimp in the water with your hand for about 30 seconds. Drain. Add 1 more tablespoon salt to the bowl with 1 quart of cold water and repeat. Rinse the shrimp under cold water and set on several sheets of paper towels. With more paper towels, pat the shrimp dry. In a small bowl, combine the remaining 1/2 teaspoon salt, sugar, and ground Sichuan peppercorns.

2. Heat a 14-inch flat-bottomed wok or a 12-inch skillet over high heat until a bead of water vaporizes within 1 to 2 seconds of contact. Swirl in 1 tablespoon of the oil, add the garlic, ginger, and chili, then—using a metal spatula—stir-fry 10 seconds or until the aromatics are fragrant. Push the garlic mixture to the sides of the wok, carefully add the shrimp, and spread them evenly in one layer in the wok. Cook undisturbed 1 minute, letting the shrimp begin to sear. Swirl in the remaining 1 tablespoon oil and stir-fry 1 minute or until the shrimp just begin to turn orange. Sprinkle on the salt mixture and stir-fry 1 to 2 minutes or until the shrimp are just cooked.

Serves 2 as a main dish with rice or 4 as part of a multicourse meal

Nikki Silva and Davia Nelson, NPR’s Kitchen Sisters, sent along some inspiration for the new year—in the form of advice from the late musician and artist Don Van Vliet, better known as Captain Beefheart.

My stove is my guitar. What is your guitar?

The commandments:

Captain Beefheart in Toronto; photo by {link:http://www.flickr.com/photos/52489759@N00} Jean-Luc Ourlin{/link}

1. Listen to the birds. That’s where all the music comes from. Birds know everything about how it should sound and where that sound should come from. And watch hummingbirds. They fly really fast, but a lot of times they aren’t going anywhere.

2. Your guitar is not really a guitar. Your guitar is a divining rod. Use it to find spirits in the other world and bring them over. A guitar is also a fishing rod. If you’re good, you’ll land a big one.

3. Practice in front of a bush. Wait until the moon is out, then go outside, eat a multi-grained bread, and play your guitar to a bush. If the bush dosen’t shake, eat another piece of bread.

4. Walk with the devil. Old Delta blues players referred to guitar amplifiers as the “devil box.” And they were right. You have to be an equal-opportunity employer in terms of who you’re bringing over from the other side. Electricity attracts devils and demons. Other instruments attract other spirits. An acoustic guitar attracts Casper. A mandolin attracts Wendy. But an electric guitar attracts Beelzebub.

5. If you’re guilty of thinking, you’re out. If your brain is part of the process, you’re missing it. You should play like a drowning man, struggling to reach shore. If you can trap that feeling, then you have something that is fur bearing.

6. Never point your guitar at anyone. Your instrument has more clout than lightning. Just hit a big chord then run outside to hear it. But make sure you are not standing in an open field.

7. Always carry a church key. That’s your key-man clause. Like One String Sam. He’s one. He was a Detroit street musician who played in the fifties on a homemade instrument. His song “I Need a Hundred Dollars” is warm pie. Another key to the church is Hubert Sumlin, Howlin’ Wolf’s guitar player. He just stands there like the Statue of Liberty—making you want to look up her dress the whole time to see how he’s doing it.

8. Don’t wipe the sweat off your instrument. You need that stink on there. Then you have to get that stink onto your music.

9. Keep your guitar in a dark place. When you’re not playing your guitar, cover it and keep it in a dark place. If you don’t play your guitar for more than a day, be sure you put a saucer of water in with it.

10. You gotta have a hood for your engine. Keep that hat on. A hat is a pressure cooker. If you have a roof on your house, the hot air can’t escape. Even a lima bean has to have a piece of wet paper around it to make it grow.

Roger Mariner's sign, Machipongo, Virginia; photo by Bernie Herman

The Eastern Shore of Virginia is a long, narrow peninsula that extends south from Maryland into the Atlantic Ocean and Chesapeake Bay. It is “the Other Eastern Shore,” less accessible and therefore less traveled and with fewer second homes than the Eastern Shore of Maryland. The remove reduces the chance of its beaches’ sprouting casinos or time-share condo communities and slows the less obvious cultural changes as well. Like many isolated patches of the nation, the Eastern Shore of Virginia is a world unto itself, a Saturday Evening Post sort of a world in which cooking and eating together remain the linchpins of social life.

For the most part, what’s grown, caught, or hunted on Virginia’s Eastern Shore is cooked and eaten there. News of the first “shedders” or a significant landing of drum fish or a handsome haul of toads quickly fills the parking lot of the Exmore Diner, where the first to arrive are the first to be served fried soft-shell-crab sandwiches, barbecued drum ribs, or fried toad. When Theodore Peed lets it be known that he’s simmering up a batch of turtle stew in his garage or that his hunting buddy H. M. Arnold declares his intention to barbecue a haunch of venison, the citizens of Northampton County, Virginia, begin planning the covered dishes and desserts they will carry to up his driveway to augment the feast.

Like the local drum ribs, toad, turtle, and soft-shell crabs that many aficionados consider superior to their famous cousins from Maryland, oysters from the Other Eastern Shore were traditionally a local delicacy. But as oysters beds elsewhere languished, Virginia’s eastern beds prospered, and aficionados discovered that the region’s varied creeks and inlets produced two distinct varieties of oysters, capable of giving the better-known Wellfleets or Blue Points serious competition.

Pete Terry; photo by Bernie Herman

From Prince Edward Island to the Gulf of Mexico, all the oysters that grow along the Eastern seaboard belong to one family—Crassostrea virginica. They differ depending on where they grow up and how well they are tended. Virginia’s Sewansecott variety comes from the Atlantic waters of Hog Island Bay along an 80-mile chain of barrier islands. Since 1903, the beds have been tended by H. M. Terry and his decedents in Willis Wharf. Sewansecotts are briny and rich, with a hint of copper and a sparkly finish.

The other local star, Nassawadox Salts—an heirloom variety that has recently been reclaimed—flourishes in the mouth of Nassawadox Creek, a tributary in the lower Chesapeake Bay. Since 1999, when they founded Shooting Point Oyster Company, Tom and Ann Arsinu Gallivan have been minding the local marsh grasses, selecting brood stock and vigilantly tending their nursery. Their stocks are robust enough to sell commercially now, but the couple continues to harvest from an old barge, The Oyster Queen, and to unload at the dock of the historic Bayford Oyster Company near Franktown, Virginia.

Tom Gallivan; photo by Bernard Herman

Their tastes are different, but the two stars of Virginia’s Eastern Shore are both meaty and juicy and are equally suited to slurping in the coldest months just as they are, or to baking, roasting, and making oyster stew.

The local sheriff, Jack Robbins, is known for his oyster stew. Indeed, oyster stew has probably been in his family as long as the tradition of law enforcement—he’s an eighth-generation descendant of Obedience Robins, who served as sheriff in 1632 (the second b was added later). But he was inspired to perfect the dish after eating it in a local restaurant. Fresh heavy cream can be used instead of evaporated milk, but mariners favor the thick, canned milk. It lends sweetness, as well as an offshore, far-from-the-nearest-dairy sense to the stew.

Either way, the cream and the brine make for an extraordinary comfort food, a meal by itself or the finale to a luxurious cold-weather feast.

Jack Robbins’s Oyster Stew
Eastville, Virginia

“The best oyster stew I ever ate was at the old Etz’s restaurant in Cape Charles,” says Jack Robbins. “When you asked him how he made it, he would say, ‘With evaporated milk.’ That was it. I have been trying to make it as good, and I am close with the following. It’s not an old family recipe, but it is an evolving one. And it’s better on the second day, so make it ahead of time.”

• 1 pint of oysters (or more); fry the big ones and use the small ones for stew
• 1/2 gallon whole milk
• 12 ounces evaporated milk
• 1/2 cup (1 stick) sweet butter
• salt and pepper

1. Strain the oysters and reserve the juice, then separate the oysters into two groups—large ones and small ones. Melt half the butter in a large, heavy-bottomed pot, add the small oysters, and cook until they are solid, about 3 minutes. Add a cup and a half of the whole milk and all of the evaporated milk. Reduce the heat to very low and simmer for two hours. Remove from heat and cool overnight.

2. Return the stew to very low heat. Add the remaining milk, stir, and season with salt and black pepper to taste. Melt the remaining butter in a skillet. When it’s hot, quickly fry the large oysters until solid, about 2 minutes on each side. Use a slotted spoon to transfer the oysters into the stew and serve immediately.

Serves 12

Cooking oysters is sacrilege to those who treasure the bivalves’ ability to distill the flavor of a particular place. The heat and additional flavors disrupt the geographic purity and muddle the travelogue. But the oysters of warmer waters tend to be fatter and less nuanced than their cold-water cousins, which may explain the long history of baked oysters on the Gulf Coast. Asked to name the variety of her favorite oyster, Sue Wespy Ceravolo, the former Garde Manger at the Ritz-Carlton in New Orleans, stared for a second and said: “We have oysters. Oysters are oysters in Louisiana.”

The city’s original claim to baked-oyster fame was Oysters Rockefeller, invented (or at least popularized) by Antoine Alciatore, the founder of Antoine’s restaurant. Today, wood-fired spicy oysters are the rage. Each turns the oyster shell into an individual casserole, each tells a tale of their time and place, and they are a logical progression after a course of raw oysters—and before an oyster stew.

Oysters Rockefeller-Style
New Orleans, Louisiana

This dish was adapted from the first known recipe for Oysters Rockefeller to appear in print. It was included in The Revised Edition of the Up-to-Date Cook Book compiled under the auspices of the Ladies Aid Sewing Society of New Orleans, first published in 1915.

• 8 tablespoons (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened
• 3/4 cup fresh parsley, minced
• 2 scallions, green and white parts, minced
• 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
• pinch of kosher salt
• 2 dozen oysters on the half shell
• 4 slices bacon, each cut into 6 squares
• 1 packed cup fresh spinach, stemmed and finely shredded
• 1/3 cup fresh bread crumbs

1. Preheat the broiler.

2. In a medium bowl, combine the butter, parsley, scallions, cayenne, and salt.

3. Place the oysters on a baking sheet or broiler pan and cover each with a generous 1 teaspoon of the butter and a square of bacon.

4. Divide the spinach evenly among the oysters and pack it on. Divide the bread crumbs among the oysters, packing them on top of spinach.

5. Broil the oysters about 5 minutes, until the bread crumbs are lightly browned and the mixture is bubbly. Serve immediately.

Serves 12

Sue Wespy Cerevolo’s Wood-Fired Spicy Oysters
New Orleans, Louisiana

Like Oysters Rockefeller, this recipe was born in a restaurant. But no one is sure which restaurant. Sue Wespy Ceravola remembers seeing wood-fired oysters around in the 1990s. Topped with butter and  sriracha (a searing Asian chili sauce that has less vinegar than traditional Louisiana-style hot sauces) as well as anchovies, which boost the flavor of the local oysters, she says this way of cooking oysters has been spreading like kudzu ever since: “At home, people like to get a bushel of oysters, invite people over, and fire up the grill. In restaurants, every chef adds a little twist—but the main ingredients remain the same. It mostly comes down to technique. In order to get a strong, wood-smoked oyster, you need to shuck the oysters and place them in a melted butter so they can soak up the flavor, scrub the shells and then heat the shells alone over a screaming-hot fire. Then you place the oyster and its juice back in the shell and top it with the butter. It starts sizzling almost immediately, and doesn’t get overcooked in the couple minutes it takes to melt the butter and let the flavors marry.”

2 dozen large oysters

For the compound butter:

1/2 pound (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
2 anchovy fillets, rinsed, patted dry, and minced (to equal 1 1/2 teaspoons)
4 to 6 garlic cloves, minced (to equal 2 tablespoons)
1 small shallot, minced (to equal 1 tablespoon)
3 drops sriracha sauce, or more to taste
1/4 teaspoon minced fresh chili or red-pepper flakes
1/8 teaspoon freshly ground white pepper
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 tablespoon minced flat-leaf parsley

For the topping:

1 tablespoon unsalted butter
1/2 cup fine dry bread crumbs
2 tablespoons grated Parmesan cheese

1. Prepare a charcoal grill or preheat the oven to 500 degrees.

2. Place a fine-mesh strainer over a pint container. Open the oysters, pour any juices through the strainer, remove the meat from the shells, and place the meat in the strainer to allow the juice to accumulate. Refrigerate the juice and the oyster meat. Use a brush to thoroughly scrub 24 of the shells.

3. To make the compound butter: Combine the butter, anchovies, and the reserved oyster juice in a food processor and pulse to combine. Add the garlic, shallot, sriracha sauce, chili, white pepper, and lemon juice and pulse to combine. Transfer to a bowl and use a rubber spatula to fold in the parsley. Transfer 1/4 to a container, cover, and refrigerate. Place the bowl with the remaining 3/4 of the compound butter in a warm place to melt.

4. To make the topping: Melt the butter in a small cast iron skillet over medium heat. When the skillet is hot, add the bread crumbs and toast lightly, stirring constantly, about 3 minutes. Transfer to a small bowl. When cool, stir in the Parmesan cheese.

5. When the compound butter is melted, add the oysters and stir gently to coat them. Place the scrubbed shells on a grill rack directly over the fire or on a baking sheet in the oven and heat until very hot. Use a tablespoon to place an oyster and a little of the melted butter in each shell. Place about 1 teaspoon of topping on each oyster. Top with a chunk of cold compound butter and about 1 teaspoon of the topping and cook until the oysters begin to plump and the butter is melted. Serve immediately.

"Kumamoto of Someone's Dreams," photo by {link:http://www.flickr.com/people/98857801@N00/}Jon Rowley{/link}

Oysters spend their lives in the primal ooze that spawns life, filtering flotsam and jetsam, distilling it all down to the essence of their patch of water-soaked earth. Oysters reveal a place like a kiss reveals a person.

My first oyster was a Wellfleet, slurped on the beach near the tip of Cape Cod, and it was astonishing because it was that particular cove, the smell of that tide, the weight of the air slipping across my tongue and down my throat. The recognition was more powerful than my initial gag response, and maybe this is what epicures mean when they refer to the “shock” of a first oyster—that the messages carried in taste sensations can trump gastrointestinal mutiny at the prospect of downing the embryonic inner life of a gnarly old rock.

That shock of recognition is so powerful that diehard oysterists can’t fathom consuming an oyster any way but raw. Any fine oyster can be slurped from the shell and some, like the tiny Olympia oysters from Puget Sound in Washington state, can’t be eaten any other way. They are so tiny that they’d shrivel up and die if you tried to bake, steam, or roast them. They are so subtle that the merest suggestion of heat would reduce them to nothing more than soft pads of inscrutable marine protein.

Olympia oysters, photo by {link:http://www.flickr.com/people/98857801@N00/}Jon Rowley{/link}

In the shell, Olympias are about the size of a fifty-cent piece, and almost as rare. They are sweet and intensely coppery-tasting, the only oyster indigenous to the West Coast of the United States. They were so prized by Gold Rush–era restaurants in San Francisco that they were harvested to the brink of extinction by 1900, except in the finger inlets of Southern Puget Sound. In that area, says Jon Rowley, a former fisherman with an infamous appetite for and an encyclopedic knowledge of Olympia oysters, the oystermen who worked for legislation that allowed private ownership of some tidelands saved the Olympia. Once ownership was established, oystermen could improve the growing areas by building dikes (which retained water and protected the oysters from summer heat) and working to protect their crops from various bacteria, predators, and industrial effluents.

The Olympia oyster is in season from October to May and is at its glory in the coldest months. Purists would decry the sacrilege, but a minuscule drop of juice from a Meyer lemon does something wonderful for the oyster’s flavor. Taylor Shellfish Farms has had great success in cultivating Olympia oysters and ship them beautifully. Taylor also grows black-shelled Kumamoto oysters, a Japanese variety that is buttery and sweet and makes a wonderful contrast to the Olympia on the half shell.

Here’s a quick overview of North American oysters.

And here’s a wonderful sauce for your next tasting:

Bill Taylor’s Soy Mignonette
Olympia, Washington

This sauce combines the Asian-influenced flavors of the Pacific Northwest with the traditional vinegary mignonette sauce to create a tart, spicy counterpoint for meaty oysters on the half shell.

• 2/3 cup citrus-seasoned soy sauce
• 1/3 cup finely chopped daikon
• 2 tablespoons grated fresh ginger
• 2 dozen oysters, preferably small ones like Kumamoto, on the half shell

In a small bowl, stir the soy sauce, daikon, and ginger together. Top each oyster with 1 teaspoon of the soy sauce mixture and serve on a bed of crushed ice. Serves 6 to 8.

Pop! POP!

Champagne. Oysters. Closed worlds pushed, twisted, and pried open. The bubbly fizzes up, up, up to the oxygen, to life on the other side of the cork. Striped of its roof, the oyster glistens and quivers naked in the air, wincing under a single drop of lemon. Beginnings and ends collide. Eating oysters is a nod to the past, both in terms of personal history (that first oyster, that place, that time) and a nod to the future (which, in terms of oysters, may actually be expanding as beds are restored and nursed back to health).

Jon Rowley, the former fisherman who is an oyster lover, connoisseur, and scholar in Seattle, tells people to tuck into a few on New Year’s and to “think of oysters on the half shell as a prelude to the good things that are coming.

I say use the occasion of the first Y-month—before cultivation and modern transportation and chilling months ending in y were the best time for eating the bivalves–as an excuse to buy enough to have oysters in many guises for a week.

Two Potatoes—One Irish, One Sweet

Jansson’s Temptation
Seattle, Washington

Before she built the cookbook section and first kitchen store at Amazon.com, Rebecca Staffel was no slouch in the kitchen. An Oregon farm kid, she was weaned on solid Scandinavian cooking, like this classic scalloped-potato dish. How innocuous it seemed back in the era of dietary innocence. What derring-do is required to indulge the miracle of potato, butter, cream, and heat today. Call it a main course, then. Call it the reason for a light salad. Say the diet begins tomorrow.

• 6 tablespoons butter, divided
• 10 russet potatoes, peeled and cut into 1/3-inch matchsticks
• 10 sprats (Swedish anchovies), roughly chopped
• 2 yellow onions, diced
• 3 tablespoons flour, divided
• salt and white pepper to taste
• 1 1/2 cups heavy cream

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease a large casserole or baking dish with 2 tablespoons of butter. Layer about 1/3 of the potato “sticks” in the casserole, followed by half of the sprats and half the onions. Sprinkle with 1 1/2 tablespoons of flour, season with salt and white pepper, and dot lightly with half the butter. Repeat with a second layer, and top with a final layer of potatoes.

2. Pour the cream evenly over the top of the potatoes and add a little more salt and pepper. Cover with foil and bake for one hour. Check after 30 minutes and add more cream if it looks dry.

4. Remove the foil, turn the oven up to 375 degrees, and bake the casserole a further 20 minutes. The Temptation will be nicely browned.

Serves four to twelve

Michael Hogue’s Tajine bil Khodar
Bremerton, Washington

Michael Hogue grew up on military bases, and the experience allowed him to see―and taste―the world with no preconceived ideas. During his own tour in the Navy, he learned that “kitchen duty was mandatory for newbies” and about “cooking for the masses and making due with what you have.” He first tasted this dish at Al-Fassia in Marrakech and has modified it only by increasing the lemon and cinnamon. Couscous is the traditional base for a tagine but Mr. Hogue finds the dish’s flavors so warm and sunny that he suggests serving it over rice or fettuccine, or even on its own. A salad of oranges and olives, accompanied by a traditional flatbread, might start the meal, followed by the tagine. Chilled melon balls would be a perfect ending.

• 1 tablespoon olive oil
• 2 medium onions, finely chopped
• 2 cups vegetable broth, homemade or low-sodium canned
• 1 cup water
• 1/2 cup fresh lemon juice
• 1 pound carrots, peeled and cut into 1-inch chunks
• 1/2 pound turnips, peeled and cut into 1-inch chunks
• 1/2 pound Yukon gold potatoes, peeled and cut into 1 1/2-inch chunks
• 1/2 pound sweet potato, peeled and cut it 1 1/2-inch chunks
• 1 teaspoon Ras el hanout spice blend
• 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
• 2 Moroccan preserved lemons, 1 chopped and 1 sliced thin
• One 9-ounce package frozen artichoke hearts, thawed

1. Heat the oil in a Dutch oven or tagine over medium heat. Add the onions and cook about 4 minutes, stirring occasionally, until soft.

2. Stir in the broth, water, lemon juice, carrots, turnips, potatoes, sweet potatoes, Ras el hanout, cinnamon, 1 teaspoon salt, and 1/2 teaspoon pepper. Bring to a simmer, cover, and cook about 30 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the vegetables are tender.

3. Stir in the artichokes and chopped preserved lemon and simmer for 5 minutes more. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Garnish with the sliced lemon and serve.

Serves six