Shrooming, part 2

As I mentioned in the last post, I am now a mushroom farmer of very small scale. I have 10 shiitake logs, which should begin to fruit a year from now and produce about 2.5 pounds each over approximately 5 years. This is not nearly enough to satisfy my personal demand, so I'll continue to be a good customer at the farmer's market and Oryana, but I'm still very excited to find an edible crop that is suited for my shady back yard and requires minimal effort.

my shiitake farm

I acquired these logs a few weeks ago at an all-day workshop I attended at the beautiful Ware Farm near Bear Lake. Bernie and Sandee Ware are marvelous organic farmers, growing delicious asparagus and succulent strawberries as well as many varieties of veggies. Bernie got turned on to shiitakes by fellow organic farmer Jim Moses, introduced in the previous blog post, and now has hundreds of shiitake logs in the wooded areas of his farm.

Back in early April, Bernie joined forces for a day with ISLAND -- a small, innovative local non-profit inspired to promote community self-sufficiency and ecological sanity through a blend of programs celebrating art and nature. On ISLAND's tiny staff is the intrepid Yvonne Stephens, who with her husband, Jason, have become mushroom evangelists. For this one-day workshop, the Stephenses and the Wares procured all the materials necessary for inoculating 100 maple logs, cut by Bernie on his farm the previous day.The 10 lucky workshop attendees took turns at one of three stations: drilling, inoculating and waxing. (Being nervous of power tools, I skipped the drilling station). At the end of the day, which included a delicious potluck lunch featuring soups Sandee had prepared with their shiitakes, we each took home 10 inoculated logs and the knowledge to care for them.

I also learned that I have much yet to learn about mushrooms. I fancy myself to be at least marginally knowledgeable of most culinary inputs and procedures, yet I was surprised to learn from Sandee that shiitakes can be dried and powdered and used in soups or gravies as a flavoring and thickening agent. Fabulous!

I haven't even begun to explore the medicinal uses of shiitakes and other mushrooms, nor the ecological benefits (just this week I saw a story about oyster mushrooms breaking down disposable diapers), but I know where to find the ultimate guru. His name is Paul Stamets and he's the high prophet of the mushroom people. I have his book, Mycelium Running: How Mushrooms Can Help Save the World, which is exceptionally comprehensive. I'm pretty sure Yvonne and Jason have all of his books, and I may soon get to that level of mushroom mania.

I purchased my sole mushroom book a few years ago at our local Bioneers conference after I was so entranced by Stamets' presentation that to this day I still can't remember anything else I saw or heard at the conference. He was on stage at the large national conference in California (we watched via satellite) and as it began, it was painfully obvious that he would much rather be out in the forest than in front of a large audience. He stammered and confessed to being a shy and awkward speaker. But as he continued, I was mesmerized. He introduced me to a fungi kingdom that is mysterious, magical, powerful, intricate and abounding with potential to restore and heal our planet and ourselves.

I haven't been able to find a complete video of Stamets' Bioneers speech online, but at the bottom of the biography page on his company's website is a link to a very similar presentation he made for TED.

And now, one of my favorite recipes for shiitakes, adapted from Thomas Kelller's Ad Hoc at Home cookbook (his recipe is for morels):

Shiitakes in Madeira

1 lb (roughly) fresh shiitakes
4 tbsp butter
1 medium shallot, finely chopped
2 tsps fresh thyme
1/2 cup Madeira
salt and pepper to taste

Clean the mushrooms, if necessary, with a brush or wet paper towel, or just wash them in a bowl of water and rub them dry. Remove the stems (can cook them in 1-2 cups of water to make a quick base for miso soup later) and slice any large caps. Heat the butter in a large skillet and cook the shallot for a couple of minutes. Add the thyme and the shiitakes and stir around for another minute or so, then add the Madeira and cook until tender. Season with salt and pepper.

Shrooming, part 1

It's morel hunting season in northern Michigan, and I would wager this annual foray to find fungi gold draws more humans to the woods than the deer hunt. Unlike France, where trained dogs and pigs sniff out treasured truffles, we must use human ingenuity to find our version of mycelium heaven. The morels at least emerge from the ground, which makes them visible to the human eye, but they are often obscured by fallen leaves.

When we first moved to northern Michigan, nearly 20 years ago, we lived in a suburban house bordering a large patch of forest. The hunting in those woods was good enough that we could treat ourselves to a few breakfasts of scrambled eggs with morels, or a side dish of sautéed morels. Since moving downtown 12 years ago, we haven't found a single morel during our hikes in various public forests. I've given up.

No matter. I have something equally good, and I'm raising them in my backyard. I'm now a shiitake farmer. I won't get my first crop until next spring, but when these morsels puff out of their logs, I'm certain they will taste better to me than any elusive morel.

I've long been a fan of shiitakes from a culinary perspective. My first experience were with dried shiitakes packaged in plastic bags with Japanese lettering. I bought these in natural foods stores and typically used them in soups. I had never purchased fresh shiitakes until I moved to Traverse City, where mushroom farmers extraordinaire Jim Moses and Linda Grigg sell their harvest all summer at the downtown farmer's market. These plump, meaty and tender shiitakes are getting to be almost as difficult to procure as morels. I'm not an early riser on Saturday mornings, which often leaves me disappointed when I arrive at their stand on the west end of the market; "they've cleaned me out already!" Jim tells me.

(Fortunately, Jim and Linda also supply shiitakes to Oryana, so I'm not out of luck forever, and I'll be cooking a batch tonight for a fine dinner. Check back tomorrow for a great recipe!)

I interviewed Jim for a story I wrote for the Oryana newsletter last month about the interaction between the local foods movement and organics. Jim called yesterday to tell me he was pleased with the way I quoted him in the story (whew!) but he wished he had made a few additional points.

In the story, Jim said he believes some large foundations that have been traditionally allied with industrial agriculture are supporting the local foods movement as a diversionary tactic, to "get people asking the wrong questions." Jim said he wishes he had made clear that the questions people should be asking about their food begin with "why" and "how", not "where". As he said, no human activity is more fundamental than the growing of food; intent and methods matter more than food-miles.

With his long, white hair and often fiery rhetoric, Jim can call to mind a biblical prophet shouting at the gates of the city. Anyone who preaches stern, unpopular messages must be prepared to make a few enemies, and Jim has his share. His devil is Monsanto, a corporation he calls "pure evil" for, among other things, its production and aggressive promotion of genetically engineered "Roundup Ready" seeds designed to survive a dousing of the Monsanto glyphosate herbicide that kills every other green thing it touches.

Because Jim's devotion to the integrity of soil and water extends beyond his garden, he has recently been trying to get people and organizations here to reconsider efforts to control the spread of phragmites, a common wetlands reed regarded as invasive. Jim said he's gotten nothing but hostility for his complaints that using chemicals to eradicate the plant will do more harm to the ecosystem than would the spread of the phragmites. (If any phragmites eradicators happen to read this, please comment below; I was too timid to seek out alternative interviews for such an obscure blog).

Jim is equally uncompromising on chemicals in the garden. Prior to the adoption of the national organics certification program, Jim was a certification inspector for one of the regional organics agencies. He's aware that his relationship with other growers was strained by his unwillingness to give applicants a pass on practices that others might have merely frowned upon or overlooked entirely. His advocacy for the national standards has often been seen by other local growers as a "get certified or you're not really organic" stance, causing additional friction.

Yet Jim has softened a bit on that subject. He has compliments for some in the community who are producing good food despite lack of organic certification, and he told me yesterday that he wishes the organics movement had built a larger tent. He likes the European designation of biological farming.

Now I wish to stop writing about gardening and go work in mine. If you enjoyed reading about this mushroom man, come back tomorrow-ish and I will introduce you to two others, plus give you what I believe to be the most delicious of all recipes for shiitakes.

Lunch and a Movie

When I began home schooling my daughter Leah nearly two years ago, I had no plan and few ideas on how to guide her education. One day, desperately flailing about for an activity, I suggested we go to the morning movie at our beautifully-restored downtown cinema, the State Theater. Every Wednesday, the State shows a classic movie for 25 cents, the same price charged when it first opened as the Lyric in 1916.

This activity, followed by lunch at one of the many terrific downtown restaurants, has become a ritual for us. Regardless of weather conditions or our personal health, we walk downtown every Wednesday morning for a movie and lunch.

I have come to appreciate the educational value of films so much that I've referred to the State and Netflix as my two most important curriculum partners. Through film, to which my daughter responds with enthusiasm and attention that no printed matter comes close to inspiring in her, I have taken her around the world and through history. Her French lessons are supported by Juliette Binoche and Romain Duris; a unit on western expansion became visual, thanks to Netflix, through "Dances with Wolves" and (for the pre-enlightened treatment) "How the West was Won".

The Wednesday classic movies follow a monthly theme, often honoring an actor, director or writer, but sometimes a genre or inspiration. Previous months have celebrated Woody Allen, Lena Horne, John Hughes, and 1939. So far this year, we've had the themes of "great dads", classic romances, spring musicals, and Cary Grant. In the past two years of Wednesday classics, I'll roughly estimate that I've seen fewer than half of these films previously. Even when it's a film I know, screening it at the State is like seeing it for the first time. Watching "Out of Africa" on the State's magnificent screen, sitting in the most comfortable theater seats on the planet, was an experience that so eclipsed television viewing that it moved me to tears, almost through the entire movie!

Yesterday, segueing from Cary Grant month to what appears to be either Stanley Donen or Aubrey Hepburn month (entire May schedule not yet released), we were treated to "Charade", an exquisite film I'm embarrassed to say I'd never before seen in its entirety. Audrey Hepburn's hats! Cary Grant's charm! This film had everything: perfect direction, tight screenplay, witty dialogue, suspense, thrilling chase scenes (in high heels), romance, Henry Mancini score, and Paris. Two thumbs up, and I rate it 10/10.

Over lunch, we discuss the film and I'll mention scenes or features that I find illuminating. One of my favorite examples of film as a time capsule comes from Woody Allen's "Play it Again, Sam". He pays tribute to Humphrey Bogart and "Casablanca," references I had to explain afterwards to Leah as she had not seen "Casablanca" (although she soon became acquainted with Bogey when his films were featured). The most striking time warp aspect of "Play it Again, Sam" involved the use of the telephone. Great comedy was made of one character (the Laszlo equivalent) so devoted to his work that he couldn't be out of touch from his office; the first thing he did when he entered a house, restaurant, bar or gallery was to call his office and leave the house phone number. No cell phones back in the 1970s! We spent much time discussing how this comedic turn would need to be rewritten today.

When I mentioned to some friends last year that I was using movies as curriculum, one told me of another parent who home schooled his son using only movies and wrote a book about it. As usual for me, I read reviews of the book, The Film Club: A Memoir, by David Gilmour, who had a special expertise in the area as he is a professional film critic. Despite my lack of expertise, I've been comforted that a curriculum of only film could work out well for a teenager. (I've supplemented the films with a standard 8th grade curriculum from an online school this year).

Our mother-daughter Wednesday film club will be ending in September, as Leah has chosen to enroll in the nearby high school. These past two years have been among the most rewarding of my life, and I hope it has served her well. Although I'll miss her company beyond measure, I'm excited for her as she takes this important step into the world. And I know we will continue to enjoy movies together in the evenings and weekends.

My deepest appreciation to all the volunteers and donors who have made the State Theater such a gem in our community, and particularly the leadership and dedication of Michael Moore.

Ethiopian-Indian fusion

I hosted my book group Thursday night for our discussion of  Cutting for Stone, by Abraham Verghese. This debut novel is a beautifully-written, expansive story of family, loyalty and profession set in three continents and featuring well-developed characters from four nationalities. Mr. Verghese, who was born in Ethiopia of Indian parents, is a physician and professor of medicine at Stanford. That would be more than enough success for most people, but now he can add "best-selling author" to his achievements. I'm impressed.

Trying to keep our book group dinner on theme, I looked for some Ethiopian recipes. I remembered a few in my trusty old Sundays at Moosewood Restaurant: Ethnic and Regional Recipes from the Cooks at the Legendary Restaurant (Cookery), and since I have no dedicated Ethiopian cookbooks in my vast collection (an oversight that must be rectified!), I chose the recipes for two vegetarian stews and injera, a spongy flatbread. I also attempted to make t'ej, an Ethiopian honey wine, from the method described in Sander Katz' Wild Fermentation: The Flavor, Nutrition, and Craft of Live-Culture Foods.

T'ej to be, maybe

I started the t'ej about three weeks ago, but I think it's not quite ready. I had to skim some mold off the surface a couple of days before the book group dinner, so I didn't dare serve it to my guests. This is my first attempt at wine-making of any type and I'm not sure how I'll know when it's good.

Both of the stews turned out well and the homemade spice blend (berbere) and spicy clarified butter (niter kibbeh) I used in cooking gave off the most intoxicating aroma. My friends said they smelled it from outside and couldn't wait to taste.

Being a slacker, I didn't read the Moosewood recipe for injera until the morning of the dinner and discovered that it required three days of fermentation! Not to be dissuaded, I googled for "quick injera" and was pleased to find several instructions for approximating its taste by using wheat flours, lemon juice and seltzer. This quick version was no more difficult to mix than the average pancake batter. None of my guests seemed disappointed.

glorious Meadowlark spinach

Saag Ethiopia

Anyway, last night I was reflecting on the cultural blend of Ethiopia and India in the novel, and recalling the delicious Indian saag paneer that Jodi contributed to our dinner, and looking at a large bag of Meadowlark Farm spinach in the refrigerator, when I had a sudden inspiration: why not make Ethiopian saag? I still had berbere and niter kibbeh. So I diced an onion, sauteed it in a couple of tablespoons of niter kibbeh, added about a tablespoon of berbere and then the spinach. It was simple and delicious!

P.S. Check out the May/June Oryana newsletter for my story on local food and why organic still matters. The story was prompted by this article by Ronnie Cummins and colleagues published by Organic Consumers Association.

Road food

Not surprisingly, one of my favorite aspects of vacation is eating out. Many travelers advance plan their food stops, or seek out a famous restaurant in a city they're visiting, but I've been known to detour hundreds of miles out of our way to hit a particular food destination. I think I may have even thrown in an extra country once (Eurorail, so long ago, can't recall exactly).

No such decadent behavior on our most recent trip, which was the usual Spring Break sojourn to southern Virginia and North Carolina to visit family. We did vary the route slightly this time, going through Pittsburgh and Washington, D.C., to visit colleges with Dylan, our high school junior.

In D.C., Dylan and I had fun playing with the Urbanspoon application on our iPods and, since we were all tired after a day of travel and college tours, we chose the nearest eatery, Guapo's, a Tex-Mex restaurant with a high "liked it" rating on Urbanspoo that was conveniently next door to our hotel. I had low expectations, but as soon as I tasted the freshness of the complimentary chips and salsa, I knew it would be safe to order from the menu. I chose the masitas de puerco al horno (slow-roasted pork medallions in a Spanish-style sauce), which were excellent. I enjoyed them so much that I forgot to stick my spoon in Leah's sopa de tortilla, which she assured me was very good. John and Dylan had something boring like fajitas or burritos, but they were satisfied.

I won't mention our interstate stops. We do the best we can, but with long drive times and two finicky teens, sometimes simply avoiding golden arches at lunch counts as a gustatory victory.

Our next opportunity for fine dining was in Raleigh. This was "date night" and John and I left the kids to enjoy pizza with their cousins and grandparents while we checked out the Bloomsbury Bistro. I was expecting the southern version of my favorite restaurant, the Cooks' House, but such perfection is rare. Still, the Bloomsbury served excellent food; some ingredients were local, and the dishes were regionally inspired. I had an outstanding duck breast flavored with cranberries and accompanied by a sweet potatoe puree. It was almost like Thanksgiving. I've already forgotten what John ordered, but I tasted it and proclaimed it delicious.

I was most disappointed in our Durham dining, or lack thereof. I had compiled a lovely list of well-reviewed Durham eateries and was excited to explore the city's renowned local foods scene, even though we only had time for one lunch. Unfortunately, I left the list (and directions) at home, and after Dylan's Duke tour, we had two hungry teen boys (his cousin joined us) and I couldn't find from memory the place I had intended to stop at on the way to Chapel Hill. We ended up having lunch at a Franklin Street sports bar where the walls are adorned with famous Tarheels and, I was told by the boys, Coach K's face decorates the urinal in the men's room. Sigh.

Family dining at Meadow

I have a brother who lives at the beach (yay!), so on our finest weather day, we made the road trip from Raleigh to Wilmington, stopping en route to lunch at the famous Meadow Restaurant, which my parents have been raving about for years. This place is the antithesis to an upscale urban bistro. It's a big country all-you-can-eat buffet full of fried chicken, country-style steak, green beans, turnip greens, hush puppies, pork rinds, and the like. The buffet also includes a dizzying array of cakes and pies, the most popular of which is the chocolate pie. The low buffet price (a little over $8) explains its fame.

For dinner, my brother and sister-in-law took us to a pleasant seafood restaurant in Wrightsville Beach, the Fishhouse, where John could get his mandatory platter of deep-fried ocean critters. I enjoyed the grilled mahi plate.

Unfortunately, being a slack food blogger, I forgot to take photos, except for the Meadow one. I'll do better next time, which will probably be our mid-May trip to Chicago (more college visits).

On basketball and education

I'm not a sports fan. Although the Super Bowl was on in our house last month, I don't know who played. I only noticed the horrible halftime show and a nice Chrysler commercial.

But there is one sport I'm passionate about: Duke basketball. As another Duke alumna remarked to me, "Once a Cameron Crazy, always a Cameron Crazy."

My beloved Blue Devils, defending NCAA champions, take the court this afternoon in the first round of the NCAA Tournament, and Blue Devils worldwide are all a-Twitter on the likelihood that stellar freshman point guard Kyrie Irving will return to action after a three-month absence from an injured toe. The possibility of a repeat hasn't been this tangible since 1992, when Duke's dominance prompted some fans to refer to the championship tournament as the "Duke Invitational."

Playing on those repeat championship teams of 1991 and 1992 was Grant Hill, and he's getting as much attention in the sports world this week as is Kyrie Irving. The New York Times published Hill's response to comments from former University of Michigan player Jalen Rose, who said in an ESPN documentary that he hated Duke in college because he thought Duke only recruited black players who were "Uncle Toms."

Grant's eloquent words and exemplary humanity make me far more proud to share an alma mater with him than do the championship titles he brought our school. I graduated in 1986, so I never had an opportunity to watch Grant from the bleachers in Cameron. Although I pay little attention to the NBA, I probably know more about Grant's post-Duke career than I do about any other alum, save Johnny Dawkins. I know he was drafted by the Pistons and has been lauded as a role model both on the court and off. I also know he collects African-American art and has exhibited his collection at Duke's Nasher Museum.

He writes in the NYT:

A good education is a privilege.

Just as Jalen has founded a charter school in Michigan, we are expected to use our education to help others, to improve life for those who need our assistance and to use the excellent education we have received to better the world.

This is what a good education meant to me, and what I want for my own children. I know that many institutes of higher learning, not just Duke, offer their students such an education. I also firmly believe that a good education need not be formal; some very thoughtful people have been self-educated or relied on the guidance of one or more mentors.

My oldest is an 11th-grader and the college decision is on our family's near horizon. I want to avoid wasting our money and his and that of any generous scholarship donors on an experience that may teach little more than how to tap a keg and fill out a job application. I've also heard educators (including my son's high school principal) comment that a college degree does not necessarily offer the employment advantage it did a generation ago, and others have noted it may be a wasted investment for many students.

In one eloquent column, Grant Hill reminds us of what a true education is all about. It's not about landing a high-paying job, recognition or awards. The true goal is to shape a person, a generation and future generations to leave the world better than we found it. We may fall short, but we should never be derided for trying.

Many professors, as well as other students, helped shape my future during my Duke years, but two in particular stand out. It was in Bruce Payne's class on Ethics for Public Policy Makers that I learned to think deeply about the goals and unintended consequences of decisions and to learn how the best and the brightest have navigated all those murky gray waters. A visiting Duke lecturer, esteemed journalist Robin Wright, was my most valued mentor and the person I credit with inspiring me to pursue writing, rather than a law degree, as a powerful means of contributing to the world's needs. Although my journalism career did not unfold the way Robin may have anticipated (as evidenced by my current location of Traverse City, not Afghanistan), Robin's influence fundamentally shaped who I have been for the past 25 years. 

Although my son is still unsure where he wants to go (Duke is on his short list) or what he wants to study, he gives all indications of viewing college as an opportunity for exploration and transformation, a few years that will help him transition from the protective bubble of his childhood in northern Michigan into his mysterious adult life. My hope for him and my daughter (following three years later) is that whatever post-secondary education they choose, it will be as meaningful as were my four years at Duke.

Now let the hoops action begin! Go Duke!!!

Brewmaster in Chief, Young Farmers, Coconuts

Forget the schedule. As soon as I committed myself to blog publication dates, I couldn't think of one thing to write, whereas before the silly self-imposed deadlines, I had more ideas than I had time to type them. So I'm back to a non-schedule of "this is my blog and I'll update it whenever I have something to say."

Today, I would like to draw the attention of my foodie readers to three recent news items.

Late last night, due to rich-dinner-induced-insomnia, I was web surfing and stumbled across the surprising news that the White House is brewing its own beer. The White House Honey Ale is homebrewed by the presidential chefs using honey from beehives on the grounds. The Obamas are even considering planting hops at the White House for future batches. How cool is that? Check out this great blog for more news on White House food initiatives. I love having a foodie president!

The story reminded me that I've been planning for more than a year to make my own mead. I have the honey in the pantry, two books of recipes, and dim memories of a workshop with local meadmaker supreme Nels Veliquette. Now I just need to lose my fear of inadvertently fermenting the wrong kinds of microorganisms and give it a try.

Today's second news item is this excellent article in today's New York Times about a new generation of small farmers, the opportunities provided them in locations with thriving foodie cultures, as well as financial challenges. The story mentions that young farmers often have difficulty finding mentors. Kudos to the Michigan Land Use Institute (not mentioned in the NYT story, which is set in Oregon) for recognizing this a couple of years ago and hiring retiring organic farmer Jim Sluyter to help address this need in our region.


And finally, for cooks, I recommend a recipe-laden feature on coconut oil from Melissa Clark, also in the New York Times. I'm eager to try the roasted sweet potatoes and the chocolate-shell ice cream topping. An excellent mail-order source for high-quality coconut oil at bulk prices is Wilderness Family Naturals. Sally Fallon, president of the Weston A. Price Foundation, published a nutrition and cookbook with Dr. Mary Enig a few years ago that includes many recipes featuring coconut oil, Eat Fat, Lose Fat: The Healthy Alternative to Trans Fats. I should get it off my shelves and actually use it!


This reminds me that I haven't made chocolate bark in a long time, which is a shame because it's unbelievably easy. I'll close with the recipe:


Chocolate-Almond Bark


1/4 c. extra virgin coconut oil
1-2 Tbsps. cocoa powder (experiment to your taste)
a few drops liquid stevia, or about 1/4 tsp powdered stevia (again, experiment to taste)
almonds, roasted if desired


Line an 8x8 square baking pan with wax paper and chill it in the freezer. Melt the coconut oil, if it's not already liquid. (In a warm kitchen, your coconut oil may always be liquid. Here in northern Michigan, mine spends most of the year in a solid state). Add the coconut powder and stevia. Toss some nuts in the prepared pan, pour over the coconut oil mixture, and put it back in the freezer until hardened. Enjoy!