Good Book

When it comes to stewardship of the seas, we've been greedy, irresponsible, and just plain stupid. We take too many fish, wreck habitats in the process, and feign ignorance when it suits us. Really, we could use a few old-fashioned whacks on the bottom from Sister Nature.

But being human, we don't like being lectured to or ordered around. This is why Becky Selengut, the author of Good Fish: Sustainable Seafood Recipes from the Pacific Coast, is the right messenger for our sadly diminished times. Becky (who happens to be a friend) is a chef and seafood lover. She's also a compassionate writer with a wicked sense of humor. Becky's not going to go all earnest on us, like so many otherwise well-meaning greenies.

Here she is on her conflicted feelings about shrimp, a poster fish for bad practices:

When I was just a wee lass, I had a thing bad for shrimp cocktail. I remember how cold and frosty that glass was; how the ice cupped a thimbleful of cocktail sauce in the middle; how five plump shrimp fanned out from the center like the orange-pink petals of a rare flower... I feel wistful about those cheap and easy shrimp cocktails, those family meals that seemed to be devoid of the modern conversations about food that are fairly commonplace today. Being an ethical eater sometimes gives me an adult-size headache.

Becky feels our pain—the pain that comes with knowledge, responsibility, and doing the right thing (not to mention the pain of being reprimanded). I fondly remember those shrimp cocktails, too. They were a treat. But no more. As Becky goes on to say, there is also pleasure in being informed and eating seasonally. Those shrimp cocktails were special, but a sustainably harvested spot shrimp pulled from the depths of Puget Sound and savored the very same day is even more special.

Becky is a knowledgeable guide in all things briny. She peddled crab-stuffed flounder rolls as a kid in New Jersey, went to culinary school, then put her degree to work in a number of Northwest eateries before becoming the "fish girl" at the famed Herbfarm Restaurant. Now she's a chef for hire, freelance writer, and teaches cooking classes. Good Fish is her paean to what remains of the Pacific fishery. While it's mostly a cook book, with mouth-watering dishes for sustainable species, it also shows off Becky's wit and wisdom in the head notes and marginalia that accompany each chapter and recipe.

To wit: It wasn't until years later that I realized sablefish and black cod are the same thing. In fact, I do believe I've said at a cocktail party or two that my two favorite fish were sablefish and black cod. At least I'm consistent. Or this: Arctic char is the smart, well-dressed girl in the corner of the room who's quiet and subtle and doesn't hit you over the head with her confidence, yet everyone in the room (especially her) knows she's got it all going on. So true. I can personally attest to Becky's badinage (and occasional bawdiness); I took her clam-digging and spent the afternoon between fits of laughter and perma-blush.

Back to the message. If you want to be a responsible steward of the sea, it's time to consider dog salmon and sardines for the table. Gone are the days of blue fin tuna, Chilean sea bass (aka Patagonia toothfish), and whatever variety of shrimp the supermarket happens to carry. We need to be conscious of the seafood choices we make.

I like to think I know a few things about Pacific fish, but I'm always learning from Becky, even on familiar subjects. For instance, in her salmon chapter, she gives some buying tips that includes this useful nugget: "Look carefully at the pin bones. If you see a divot around the pin bones, it's a sign that the fillet is old." The images depicting fish fillets (salmon and halibut) that are undercooked, just right, and overcooked will be cherished by inexperienced home cooks looking for just the right flake factor.

A few of the recipes in the book I've been lucky enough to be served by the author herself, such as Jet's Oyster Succotash, while others I just had to try. The Geoduck Crudo is light and balanced, without stepping on the big clam's...err...neck. Scallops with Carrot Cream and Marjoram—delicate, sweet, and briny—did indeed "blow this dish right out of the water." Others are on my to-do list: Mussels with Guinness Cream; Halibut Coconut Curry with Charred Chiles and Lime; and Dungeness Crab Mac-and-Cheese.

This is a book I'll be going back to again and again, for inspiration in the kitchen or just to savor a fishy turn of phrase. Every piscivore should own a copy.

Sichuan Dry-Fried Fiddleheads

Some of our wild foods get points for style. Fiddleheads, f'rinstance. They're just so cool to look at.

In my neck of the woods it's fiddlehead time right now. In fact, those at sea level have already unscrolled their lovely coiled shoots, but several hundred feet higher in the lower foothills of the Cascades the fiddleheads are just now awaking to spring (even though they got hailed on the other day) and stretching their arms  beside gurgling rivulets of runoff.

These are the young shoots of the lady fern, Athyrium felix-femina. East of the Rockies the fiddlehead of choice is the ostrich fern, Matteuccia struthiopteris.

The best way to forage a fiddlehead patch is to identify the adult ferns in summer, when their fronds are easily recognized, then go back in spring and pick the newly emerged fiddleheads. A good patch will be chockablock with ferns. In my region these patches are most often found in moist mixed woodlands, usually near water. Swamps, streamsides, estuaries, and other riparian areas offer suitable habitat. Sometimes disturbed ground can provide an opening for fiddlehead patches. I know of a long stretch of gently rolling terrain beneath powerlines where the trees have been cleared that is now home to lady ferns as far as the eye can see.

Once the fronds are fully leafed out they become toxic. Move up in elevation.

My own experience with lady fern fiddleheads is that their taste varies widely. Some are quite bitter, others are more buttery and rounded in flavor, like a cross between artichoke and asparagus. I haven't figured out why. Perhaps the flavor is influenced by soil ph or other environmental conditions. In any event, preparation can be tailored to suit taste. With a particularly bitter batch, I'll temper with butter, lemon juice, and salt in a simple fiddlehead pasta tossed with parmesan. Milder batches accompany meats or fish as a side dish. A fiddlehead frittata is an excellent way to enjoy them and I've also pickled fiddleheads. But my new preferred way to prepare fiddleheads is...

...Sichuan style. One of my favorite Sichuanese dishes—a signature preparation known to even casual admirers of the spicy cuisine from southwestern China—is Dry-fried String Beans. Using fiddleheads in place of string beans, I made a similar dish the other night to accompany Kung Pao Chicken. And it turned out even better than expected.

Prep the fiddleheads carefully. Soak in water a few minutes before rubbing off the papery sheaf with your fingers. Blanche in salted boiling water for a minute, then thoroughly dry with paper towels. Even a tiny amount of moisture can pop and sizzle dangerously in a hot wok.

1 lb fiddleheads, cleaned
1/4 lb ground pork
1/3 cup peanut oil
1 tbsp garlic, diced
1 tbsp ginger, diced
10 dried red chili peppers
1/4 tsp Sichuan peppercorns, ground
2 tbsp Sichuan preserved vegetable, chopped
3 scallion bulbs, chopped
2 tsp Chinese rice wine (or dry sherry)
1 tbsp chili bean sauce
1/2 tsp sesame oil
1/2 tsp dark soy sauce
1 tsp sugar
1/4 tsp salt, or more to taste

1. Combine rice wine, chili bean sauce, sesame oil, dark soy sauce, and sugar in small bowl to make sauce. Set aside.

2. Blanche fiddleheads for 1 minute in boiling, well-salted water. Remove and dry thoroughly with paper towels.

3. Heat oil in wok until nearly smoking, then add fiddleheads and stir-fry for a few minutes until beginning to blister. Remove to paper towels.

4. Pour off all but a tablespoon of oil and return to heat. Add garlic, ginger, chopped scallion bulbs, red chili peppers, preserved vegetable, and Sichuan peppercorns. Cook a minute until fragrant, then add ground pork. Stir-fry together until pork is browned. Return fiddleheads to wok, add reserved sauce, and stir-fry another minute to coat.

5. Sprinkle with salt and serve.

4 Courses

Literature is sustenance—we all know that—so why not pair writers with dinner? Join me on Wednesday, April 27, at the Richard Hugo House for an evening of food and words with myself and three other Seattle writers. Food will be provided by Tom Douglas, Taylor Shellfish, and High 5 Pie.

Four courses, four readings. I'll be shucking metaphorical oysters to accompany the real thing. The other courses include my wife, Martha Silano, who will read from her most recent poetry collections, Blue Positive and The Little Office of the Immaculate Conception; Kevin Craft, author of Solar Prominence and editor of Poetry Northwest; and Kate Lebo, poet and pie-maker extraordinaire.

Buy your ticket now for this tasty event.

Bay Area Mini Tour

Dear Bay Area Foragers, Cooks, Outdoors Enthusiasts & Readers:

I'm happy to announce I'll be visiting your lovely habitat (and my former stomping ground) April 19 thru 21 to read at local book stores and give a slide lecture at the Sonoma Mycological Society. Come by and say hello. You can find me:

• April 19, Omnivore Books, San Francisco, 6 p.m.

• April 20, Copperfield's Books, Sebastopol, 7 p.m.

• April 21, Sonoma Mycological Society, Santa Rosa, 7 p.m.

Beginner Shellfish Foraging & Cooking Classes

In association with Bainbridge Island Parks & Rec, I'll be teaching three shellfish foraging and cooking classes this spring. Two classes will focus on steamer clams and oysters, while the third will be in pursuit of the legendary geoduck, world's largest burrowing clam.

• May 1: Shellfish Foraging & Cooking. Bring your rubber boots and bucket. We'll learn how to dig for clams, shuck oysters, and cook our catch. Lunch will be littleneck clams steamed in white wine sauce at a nearby picnic area, with oysters on the half-shell as an appetizer.

• May 18: Same as above.

• June 15: Geoduck Dig. We'll learn the finer points of wrestling a giant geoduck clam from its lair, then repair to a nearby picnic area to make a delicious ceviche. Class size limited.

More information is available through Bainbridge Island Metro Park &  and Recreation District. To register, please call 206-842-2306 x115.

Environmental Writers Workshop

Seattle's Burke Museum is sponsoring its third annual Environmental Writers Workshop on Saturday, April  23, from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. Award-winning authors and journalists Carol Kaesuk Yoon (Naming Nature) and Bruce Barcott (The Last Flight of the Scarlet Macaw) will join me in leading both class-based and field-based sessions in this all-day workshop.  Enrollment is open to 40. We'll divide into three groups so that each enrollee has a chance to work with all three instructors. Sessions will include panel talks, writing exercises, and class discussion. Lunch is provided. The cost is $100.

To register, please email burked@uw.edu or call (206) 543-5591.

Photo by Catherine Anstett

New Foraging Classes

By popular demand, I've added a new roster of foraging classes. These are in addition to the classes being offered by Bainbridge Island Parks & Rec. We'll meet in the Cascade foothills east of Seattle for a narrated 3-hour walk through a variety of landscapes. The class will focus on the identification of numerous edible plants and fungi, their life-cycles, and habitats. We'll also discuss proper harvesting techniques and tools; processing; cooking and recipes; and storage. The cost for these classes is $45 and includes a copy of my book. Maximum 12 per class.

• Sunday, April 10, 10 a.m. FULL
• Wednesday, April 27, 10 a.m. FULL
• Tuesday, May 3, 10 a.m. FULL

To sign up, please email me at finspotcook AT gmail dot com. 

For those who missed my Stinging Nettles Class on Bainbridge Island, I'll be doing a second nettles class on April 13. Call 206-842-2306 for more information.

Additionally, I'm planning to offer a Nature Writing Workshop for a small group of writers and journalers this summer. If this interests you, let me know so I can add you to my mailing list.

Geoduck Recipes

I came into a geoduck windfall the other day. A photo team was in town to shoot some clam digging action, and to supplement the razors and littlenecks we dug at the beach, they picked up a few photogenic 'ducks from the market.

By the end of the weekend I was in proud possession of four live geoducks. What to do? If morels were popping (they're not), I'd consider my Sichuan surf 'n' turf, or maybe a ceviche for a sunny Seattle picnic in March (good luck!). So I poked around online. Xinh Dwelley of Xinh's Clam & Oyster House in Shelton, WA, makes a star turn on Dirty Jobs to demonstrate how to prepare Geoduck Sashimi, perhaps my favorite way to enjoy the well-endowed mollusk. Simply adorned with a dipping sauce of one part soy, one part rice vinegar, and a generous pinch of minced ginger, the clam's sweet, slightly metallic taste shines through. Another good source for geoduck inspiration can be found here.

Even with various friends on the dole, four 'ducks was just too much clam for three meals. We ended up freezing a couple. The necks of the other two got eaten as sashimi and the body meat was stir-fried for Geoduck with Snow Peas and Cashews. That night we also fried up some razor clams Pan-Asian style with a reduction of sake, aji-mirin, garlic, and ginger.

I sure don't mind these clammy days of spring.

Italian Nettle Sausage Pie

And I always thought baking was for control freaks. Silly me. Kate McDermott—aka the Pie Lady, dubbed "the rock star of pie" by Seattle Magazine—is not your typical baker. She doesn't worry about humidity or get hung up by exact measurements. She goes against the grain, which is her way. It's more of a Zen thing. "Feel the dough," she likes to say, only half-kidding.

The evening began with a trip out to the chicken coop, where Kate nabbed fresh eggs. Next she unwrapped a tan disc and slapped it on the counter: the dough, just liberated from cold storage. At that moment it could have been dropped at center ice by a man in black and white pinstripes. "Rule number one," she said. "The only rule. Chill out." She handed me a mixing bowl. This, too, was zamboni cold.

Of course, like much of what she says, Kate's admonition to chill has multiple meanings. As I started to roll out my hockey puck of dough she stopped me. I was thinking too much. "I'll change the music," she offered. You need the right music to roll by. The smooth vibes of Seal soared out of Kate's kitchen speakers; I remembered how an old three-pinner friend of mine swore by this record for a fresh foot of powder in the back-country.

Kate's own style of rolling is more along the lines of the whirling dervish variety. She dances to the music, swings her hair to and fro, and belts out an Aretha Franklin chorus during the next song.

This all helps to explain why she calls her business Art of the Pie—as opposed to, say, Science of the Pie. More dionysian than apollonian, Kate's vision is for a world filled with pies, in which pie is merely the starting point for better things to come. "It's a movement," she laughs. Her own part in the movement can be measured by the 50 pounds of leaf lard she goes through each month, the 75 pounds of weekly apples in season, and the hundreds of students who have graduated from her four-hour class with a determination to spread the gospel of pie.

As for me, the proof was, indeed, in the pie, with a crust of flakey perfection and a savory filling that highlighted the brightness of wild weeds. Really, I can't recommend this recipe enough. It's a version of a classic, using stinging nettles instead of spinach, to superior effect. Our tweaks included the addition of leeks, nutmeg, red pepper flakes, and lemon juice.

I learned a lot during this pie-making session, and though I won't go so far as to say my new skills are ready for prime time, Kate has put me on the path to a fresh understanding of baking with her pie-making mojo.

1 pound sweet Italian sausage
4 large cloves garlic, chopped
3 leeks, thinly sliced (discard green tops)
6 eggs
20 oz stinging nettles, blanched and squeezed dry
4 cups shredded mozzarella cheese
1 cup ricotta cheese
1 tsp teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon pepper
fresh nutmeg to taste
2 tsp lemon juice
1 10-inch pastry for a double crust pie
1 tablespoon water

1. In a skillet over medium heat, saute sausage, leek, and garlic.

2. Separate one egg and set the yolk aside. In a mixing bowl, beat the egg white and remaining eggs. Mix in nettles, mozzarella cheese, ricotta cheese, salt, pepper, nutmeg, red pepper flakes, lemon juice, and sausage mixture.

3. Line a deep 9 or 10-inch pie dish with bottom pastry (with a 9-inch dish you will likely have leftover filling). Add filling. Cover with top pastry. Trim, seal, and flute edges. Cut slits in top. Beat water and remaining egg yolk; brush over top.

4. Bake at 425 degrees for 20 minutes, then lower heat to 400 degrees for another 30 minutes or until crust is golden brown and filling is bubbly. Let stand for 10 minutes before cutting.

Announcing Beginner PNW Foraging Classes

Sign-up is now open CLOSED for three beginner foraging classes this spring in the Cascade foothills near Seattle. ***Stay tuned for more classes offered in the future.*** Each class will be a three-hour trail walk (2 miles, easy terrain) with an emphasis on identification and food preparation. We'll examine dozens of wild plants and fungi that can be used in the kitchen. Trailside discussion will include notes on life cycle, habitat, season, harvesting techniques, processing, cooking, recipes, and putting up. Maximum 12 per class. The cost is $35, which includes a copy of my book, Fat of the Land: Adventures of a 21st Century Forager.

The dates are:

• Friday, March 25, 10 a.m. - 1 p.m. FULL

• Saturday, April 9, 10 a.m. - 1 p.m. FULL

• Monday, May 2, 10 a.m. - 1 p.m. FULL

To sign up or request more information, please email me at: finspotcook AT gmail dot com. Group dates possible.

Also, I'll be teaching shellfish and berry-picking workshops sponsored by Bainbridge Island Parks & Recreation.