Naan- My New Favorite Thing

I've made peace with my rolling-pin and the world is my oyster. Okay, maybe not my oyster but definitely my pie crust, savory shortbread or naan. I planned a Moroccan meal, chicken b'stilla and all, but a crucial piece was missing— flat bread. If I still lived in St Paul, I would have hopped in my car, driven to Uptown and bought a couple of bags of fresh pita from Bill's Imports and secured the final component of my Moroccan feast. Four hours is too long to drive for pita so I looked up a recipe for naan, grabbed my rolling-pin and I made the final component for my Moroccan dinner. Necessity is the mother of invention, or in this case, bread making.

It was way, way easier than I thought. The dough can get sticky (with the egg and yogurt) so make sure you have extra flour on hand when you roll it out. Other than that, you can free form the naan into whatever shape strikes your fancy, throw it on the grill pan, cover it and within 5 minutes, you have the best piece of warm flat bread just waiting to be eaten. Good things happen when you overcome your fear of rolling pins, I'm living proof.

Indian Naan(Adapted from The New York Times & Bukhara Grill)

2 1/2 tsp dry yeast
2 tbsp sugar
1 1/4 cup warm water
5 cups all-purpose flour, more for dusting and rolling
2 tsp salt
1 tsp baking powder
3 tbsp whole milk
2 tbsp plain Greek yogurt
1 large egg, lightly beaten
2 tbsp vegetable oil, more for the bowl
3 tbsp butter, melted
2 cloves garlic, minced

Dough Preparation
Place the sugar, yeast, and 1/4 cup warm water (110 to 115 °F) in a small bowl and let sit 5 to 10 minutes until it becomes foamy. Put the flour, salt, and baking powder in a food processor fitted with a dough blade or a mixer bowl with the dough hook and blend. Pour the yeast mixture, milk, yogurt, egg, 2 tablespoons of vegetable oil, and 1 1/4 cup warm water into the bowl and knead until the dough forms a ball that is smooth and elastic (about 2-3 minutes in a processor or 5-8 minutes in a stand mixer). The dough should be soft without being sticky. If it’s sticky, add more flour. Put the dough in a lightly-oiled large bowl. Turn the dough around to coat oil on all sides and then cover the bowl with plastic wrap and let it sit in a warm, draft-free place for about an hour. Punch down the dough and cut it into 8 pieces. Roll them into balls and set on a floured baking sheet. Cover with damp kitchen towel and let rise until doubled in size (about another hour).

Cook The Naan: Melt the butter in a small saucepan, add the garlic and set aside. Roll the dough balls out on a floured work surface into a disk about 6 inches in diameter. Stretch one end to make an oblong teardrop shape. Repeat with remaining dough and cover with a damp cloth. Place your cast iron grill pan on the stove and heat over medium high heat. Lightly oil the grill pan. Place dough on grill pan and cover with the lid of a pan large enough to encompass the entire piece of naan. Grill until the bottom is browned and the top starts to puff and blister, 1 to 2 minutes. Flip the naan over and grill, covered, until it's lightly browned, another 1 to 2 minutes. Brush the top with the garlic butter. Serve immediately or cool completely, cover and use within a couple of days.

Pho- Seriously Good Soup

Pho, a little word for a big, flavor bomb of a soup filled with noodles, beef, dried spices, fresh herbs and a healthy dose of hoisin and Sriracha sauce. I've never actually eaten Pho in a Vietnamese restaurant but I've heard epic tales from Ted, a self-professed Pho aficionado. He and his friend, Rick, used to travel the length and breadth of the Twin Cities, in search of the best bowl of Pho they could get their hands on. I'm not sure what all the criteria (or their credentials) were but I do know a restaurant with bullet holes in the wall was awarded extra points. So, when I set out to make a batch, I knew I had an in-house expert to guide me to my own personal best bowl of Pho.

The broth takes a little while to come together (don't skip the par-boil for the bones, it'll make for a much clearer broth) but after I micro-managed the broth and skimmed away most of the impurities (about 30 minutes of standing at the stove and skimming), it was a breeze. Since I stock up at the Asian grocery store when I'm back in Minneapolis, I had a bag of fresh noodles in the refrigerator but dried noodles will work just as well. After a couple attempts at Pho greatness, Ted gave me the thumbs up and said I 'nailed it'. Pretty high praise from a guy who devoted a couple of years on University Avenue and Cedar Riverside looking for the perfect bowl of soup.

Vietnamese Pho Noodle Soup

The Broth
2 onions, halved
4" nub of ginger, halved lengthwise
5-6 lbs of good beef bones, preferably leg and knuckle
6 quarts of water
1 cinnamon stick
1 tbsp coriander seeds
1 tbsp fennel seeds
4 whole star anise
1 cardamom pod
6 whole cloves
1 1/2 tbsp kosher salt
1/4 cup fish sauce
1 inch chunk of yellow rock sugar (10 ounces regular sugar)

The Good Stuff for the Bowls
2 lbs rice noodles (I used fresh)
1/2 lb flank steak, sliced as thin as possible
1/2 cup mint, chopped
1/2 cup cilantro, chopped
1/2 cup basil, chopped
1/2 cup green onions, thinly sliced
2 limes, cut into wedges
2-3 chili peppers, sliced
2 cups bean sprouts Hoisin sauce ( I like Lee Kum Kee)
Sriracha hot sauce

Broth Preparation
Turn your broiler on high and move rack to the highest spot. Place ginger and onions on baking sheet. Brush just a bit of cooking oil on the cut side of each. Broil on high until ginger and onions begin to char. Turn over and continue to char. This should take a total of 10-15 minutes.

While the ginger and onion are in the oven, fill large pot (12-qt capacity) with cool water. Boil water, and then add the bones, keeping the heat on high. Boil vigorously for 10 minutes. Drain, rinse the bones and rinse out the pot. Refill pot with bones and 6 qts of cool water. Bring to boil over high heat and lower to simmer. Using a ladle or a fine mesh strainer, remove any scum that rises to the top. ***This is an important step, don't skip it.

Add the cinnamon stick, coriander, fennel, star anise, cardamom pod and cloves to a mesh bag and tie close (I bought a reusable tea bag at the Co-op) charred ginger and onion, sugar, fish sauce, salt and simmer uncovered for 3 - 4 hours. Strain broth and return the broth to the pot. Taste broth and adjust seasoning - this is a crucial step. If the broth's flavor doesn't quite shine yet, add 2 teaspoons more of fish sauce, large pinch of salt and a small nugget of rock sugar (or 1 teaspoon of regular sugar).  If the spices are too strong, add plain beef broth ( homemade or canned) to dilute the soup. Keep doing this until the broth tastes perfect.

Noodle and Meat Preparation
Slice your flank steak as thin as possible - try freezing for 15 minutes prior to slicing to make it easier. Arrange all other ingredients on a platter for the table. Your guests will "assemble" their own bowls. Follow the directions on your package of noodles— each brand is different. After the noodles are cooked, rinse thoroughly in cold water (this will keep them from sticking).

Adding the Good Stuff to the Bowls
Bring your broth back to a boil. Fill each bowl with rice noodles and raw meat slices. As soon as the broth comes back to a boil, ladle into each bowl. the hot broth will cook your raw beef slices. Serve immediately. Guests can garnish their own bowls as they wish.

Sweet George & A Full Moon

The Sweetness of Dogs (Fifteen) Mary Oliver

What do you say, Percy? I am thinking
of sitting out on the sand to watch
the moon rise. It’s full tonight.
So we go

and the moon rises, so beautiful it
makes me shudder, makes me think about
time and space, makes me take
measure of myself: one iota
pondering heaven. Thus we sit, myself

thinking how grateful I am for the moon’s
perfect beauty and also, oh! how rich
it is to love the world. Percy, meanwhile,
leans against me and gazes up
into my face. As though I were just as wonderful
as the perfect moon.

We Booked It Across The Bay

I can add another event with a 'K' in it to my résumé— this time it was a 10K ski 'race' across the bay between Ashland and Washburn. We were new to the whole 'booking it across the bay' event and I was excited for all of it (I had a bottle of champagne and a container of gorgonzola crackers cued up for a mid-ski snack) until I heard there was a bus ride involved. To say I'm not a fan of small spaces filled with people would be an enormous understatement and the added component of skis everywhere in the small space was enough to send me skiing back to Bayfield. I tried to suck it up and keep my claustrophobia in check but as we got closer to Washburn, doubt started to creep in my anxious little brain (it didn't help I managed to get the car stuck in a snow bank trying to park...I'm not the best driver).

As luck would have it, we were walking down the street to queue up for the dreaded bus ride and the most spectacular thing happened— an empty bus pulls up alongside of us and the bus driver asked if we wanted to get on (before the other 200 or so people in line). We answered with a resounding 'hell yeah', Jack and I grabbed the front seat (near the door) and away we went, not a hint of claustrophobia to be found. It was shaping up to be the best night of skiing across the lake, ever.

Of course, there were puppets at the start— a wolf and a polar bear. A little bit of whimsy before we set off on our epic night ski across the lake.

There were a lot of people at the start and we made sure to stay in the back. I think the fastest person finished in 23 minutes, our crew finished somewhere around the 3 hour mark. Not too shabby for a group of inexperienced Dougherty skiers and a 6-year-old Jackson. We were so far in the back, I'm not sure how the start of the race was announced but we made our way to the lake about 6:05 and started our trek towards the first rest stop.

There were quite a few people in the back with us. In fact, there were quite a few people everywhere— 3500 skiers, snowshoers and walkers signed up to book across the bay. It was a beautiful start— the sky was lit up with the remnants of sunlight, the moon and stars were just starting to reveal themselves and the seemingly unending line of twinkling luminaries spread out in front of us.

There were rest stops every kilometer with water, cookies, apple cider (adult and kid flavored) and bonfires to warm our getting colder by the minute fingers, faces and bodies. It was really cold out— about zero degree by the time we crossed the finish line.

One of the rest stops had a bonfire and a fire breathing dragon— it was seriously impressive.

We finished with smiles on our faces, frost in our hair and lots of good memories of our first book across the bay.

Mussels Bathed In Thai Red Curry

I was a frequent Thai food take-out customer when we lived in St. Paul— Ruam Mit Thai  had some of the best Thai I've ever eaten. However, Ruam Mit doesn't have a Bayfield satellite and I needed to develop some Thai cooking skills. Our friend, Rich, was our very first dinner guest when we bought our house in Bayfield six years ago and he brought all the ingredients and made the dinner. As frequent visitors to my kitchen will attest, I'm a little territorial about my space near the stove but Rich is welcome anytime. He taught me how to make Thai food and I'll love him forever for sharing his recipe for Thai red curry with me. I still have the original recipe he copied for me before he left to go back to Minneapolis— as you can see from the picture, it's seen a lot of action in my kitchen.

I met Rich's wife, Tammy, on the dock when I was 8 months pregnant with Charlie. I looked across the marina and saw an equally pregnant woman walking down C dock and knew I needed to introduce myself— hugely pregnant women in a marina are about as rare as Piping Plovers on Long Island. I'm so glad I waddled over to meet her— it turned out Rich grew up three or four houses away from Ted, our kids went to the same pediatrician and our babies were due within 2 weeks of each other. Over the years, we spent many weekends out in the islands and even made the trek across the Lake to Grand Marias a couple of times. We always ate well on our adventures and dinner at Naviya's Thai Kitchen was an integral part of the meal planning process. So when Rich showed up at my door in Bayfield with the fixings for a grand Thai dinner, I was thrilled. Thai food, Grand Marais and the Jamieson's— beautiful and delicious memories.

Thai Red Curry Mussels (Adapted from Madhur Jaffrey's Far Eastern Cookery)

1 3/4 cups coconut milk
1 sweet potato, peeled and diced into 1 inch cubes
2 pounds mussels, debearded and scrubbed
1 stalk lemongrass, crushed
3 tbsp shallot, minced
2 tbsp galangal, chopped
1 tbsp garlic, minced
1/2 tsp salt
4 tbsp vegetable oil
4 tbsp red curry paste ( I use Mae Ploy)
1 1/2 tbsp fish sauce
1 tsp brown sugar
4 fresh kaffir lime leaves ( I buy a bunch of them at the Asian market in Minneapolis and freeze them)
10 fresh sweet basil leaves, julienned
1/4 cup cilantro, chopped

Preparation
Skim off 4 tablespoons of the thick cream of the coconut milk and set it aside. Stir the rest of the coconut milk to mix. Place the diced sweet potatoes, lemongrass, shallot, galangal, kaffir lime leaves, garlic and coconut milk in a saucepan, heat over medium heat and braise until the sweet potato is softened (about 10 - 15 minutes). Remove from heat and set aside.

Put the oil and reserved coconut cream in a heavy wok or wide heavy pan. Bring it to a boil. Add the curry paste and stir and fry over medium high heat until the oil separates and the paste is lightly browned. Lower the heat and add the fish sauce and sugar. Stir to mix. Add the sweet potato/coconut milk mixture and bring to a simmer. Add the mussels, cover and steam until the mussels open (discard any mussels that do not open). Stir in the basil and cilantro and serve immediately over steamed jasmine rice.

The Best Beer In The World

I'm a fan, a really big fan, of wine but my beer knowledge is pretty limited. I tend to categorize beer by color (light brown, medium brown and dark brown) and we named our Newfie Guinness because he was black and stout— that's the sum total of my beer knowledge. So when my friend showed up with the 'best beer in the world', I was suspicious. I did what any good non-beer drinker would do when the 'best beer in the world' was sitting on the kitchen counter, I googled it. Turns out, he was right. According to Huffington Post, 'Westvleteren XII is produced by Trappist monks at the abbey of Saint Sixtus in the Belgian countryside, and only available  for purchase through hard-to-get reservations. The beer's sudden appearance in the States is a financial necessity for the abbey -- after a round of expensive renovations, the monks decided to sell the beer outside the monastery for one time only'.

After doing a kitchen renovation a couple of years ago, I completely understand coming in over budget and needing to raise some extra cash. Those Trappist monks are lucky to have some expensive beer ($84.99 for a six-pack and 2 glasses) to feather their newly renovated nest and I was lucky to get a taste of a pretty spectacular beer. Can I say it's the best in the world? I'm not sure what the criteria is for such a lofty title but I can say it was nicely balanced with prominent notes of chocolate, dried fruits, spice and molasses. Maybe the monks will decide to renovate the rest of the Abbey in 2013 and I'll get a chance at honing my beer tasting skills on another bottle of Westvleteren. I'll keep you posted.

Who Needs A Little Huli Huli??

It's finally warming up. We've been in the deep freeze for the last couple weeks and 25 degrees above zero is my version of a heat wave in February. And that means grilling some huli huli chicken and pineapple for dinner. Lighting the grill with snowflakes drifting downward seems kind of counterintuitive but it's a nice reminder of all the summer nights to come. Who couldn't use a little luau and huli huli in the middle of winter?

Huli Huli Chicken (Adapted from The Best Of America's Test Kitchen 2010)

Brine & Chicken
3 quarts water
1 cup orange juice
1 cup pineapple juice
1 1/3 cup soy sauce
3/4 cup kosher salt
2 cups brown sugar
6 cloves garlic, peeled and smashed
2 medium yellow onions, peeled and quartered
2 tbsp red pepper flakes 2 whole chickens, quartered

Glaze
2 1/4 cups pineapple juice
1/4 cup packed brown sugar
1/4 cup soy sauce
1/4 cup ketchup
1/4 cup rice vinegar
4 garlic cloves, minced
2 tbsp fresh ginger, minced
2 tsp Asian chili-garlic sauce

Brine Preparation
In a large stockpot, add the water, sugar and salt. Heat until the sugar and salt is melted and then cool completely. Once the water/sugar/salt mixture is cool, add the remaining ingredients, including the chicken, to a very large container, place in refrigerator for at least 4 hours and up to 8 hours.

Glaze Preparation
Combine the pineapple juice, sugar, soy sauce, ketchup, vinegar, garlic, ginger and chili-garlic sauce in an empty saucepan and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to medium and simmer until thick and syrupy (you should have about 1 cup) 20 to 25 minutes. The sauce can be refrigerated in an airtight container for up to 3 days.

Grilling The Chicken
Prepare a charcoal grill and heat until hot. Remove the chicken from the brine and pat dry. Arrange the chicken, skin-side up, on the grill and grill, covered, until the chicken is well browned and the thickest part of the thigh registers 120 degrees, 25 to 30 minutes. Flip the chicken skin-side down and continue to grill, covered, until the skin is well browned and crisp, about another 20 minutes. Transfer the chicken to a platter, brush with half the glaze, and let rest for 5 minutes. Serve, passing the remaining glaze at the table.

The Many Faces At The Sled Dog Races

Julie and Caroline raced in the Apostle Islands Sled Dog Race this year and I was the official dog petter/photographer of the Buckles/Ray team (read all about it here). Talk about an expressive bunch of dogs— it was a brilliant way to spend a few hours on a beautiful winter afternoon.

This guy was resting up before the race— talk about calm, cool and collected.

Bisoux was the picture of composure (until she got her harness on).

I wish I knew this guy's name— he stole my heart.

Pronce— striking a pose.

Holstein in a very, very rare moment of quiet contemplation.

Bisoux is one loving girl with a serious side of bad ass— don't cross her.

Juliette, the one eyed, geriatric husky, kept up with the young-uns with a smile on her face— pure Husky bliss.

Fragile

If I ever had questions about the fragility of life, the past couple weeks put them to rest, for good. The first little 'ping' came two weeks ago when Will and I went for our Sunday photo safari. I woke up that morning with the phrase, 'the last places are worth saving'  in my head and we set out to find a few photos of those last places. It's not difficult to find showstopping photos up here and within an hour, we were cold and headed home. On our way towards Bayfield, we saw two eagles being chased by a single crow right after we left the beach. One of the eagles had 'dinner' in his talons and Will and I were amazed at the chutzpah of that single crow. He was one wrong move away from becoming dinner himself. I couldn't stop wondering why a crow would be going up against two large eagles— was he too lazy to find his own dinner or was there a bigger message in the tableau Will and I were witnessing?

Of course, I thought it was symbolic of the David and Goliath mining battle playing out in the Penokees. Talk about fragile, the mine would pollute the Bad River watershed and subsequently Lake Superior.  That kind of cause and effect is easy to understand— the bad guys pollute the water and the good guys lose everything. But what happens when it's not as clear and bad things happen anyway?

Within the past week, two eagles have died from lead poisoning (I'm not sure if they were the two eagles I saw with Will). The eagles, and other animals, eat gutpiles from deer carcasses and if the deer are killed with lead bullets, the gut piles are contaminated. To be fair, I'm not entirely sure the eagles died from scavenging lead contaminated deer carcasses but it drives home the message that everything is connected and something as benign, and even seemingly responsible, as leaving the gutpile from a harvested deer to feed eagles, coyotes, and whatever else is hungry can lead to unintended but deadly consequences.

I used to see an eagle in a tree at the mouth of the Sioux River and every time I drove over the bridge, I looked towards the lake to see if he was perched on the top branch. I haven't seen him since the news of the lead poisoning came out and I'm afraid he's gone. The sight of that eagle in the tree became a touchstone for me and I felt blessed every time I saw him. It's heavy when you realize every step, decision and movement you make has consequences, seen or unseen, and to plow blindly forward is not only selfish but irresponsible. It can feel immobilizing, the awareness of our woven destiny with everything that surrounds us. But what happens when the weave supports and sustains us?

Jim Hudson died last week and we are still reeling. Losing a man as loved and respected as Jim sent shock waves through every corner of our little town and I was reminded, again, of how we are all woven into the same tapestry. As I watched the horrible story unfold, I started to notice the support that was swelling to help Hannah, Jim's wife, after his passing. I also noticed the stories and testimonies about Jim and the legacy he left behind. He was tremendously loved, in Bayfield and beyond.

I think the first time I met Jim, he had George in the back of his police car (George had a fierce wanderlust in his early years) and with his characteristic smile, he dropped George off, swapped some fishing tips with Ted and went on his way. Over the years, I've gotten to know Jim and Hannah better and their generosity of spirit was remarkable. I remember the first time Hannah complimented Will on his photography, he was thrilled and I doubt he'll ever forget his first compliment from a professional photographer. That's just one example of how she fostered an environment where a 13-year-old boy could feel like a giant, I know there are many, many more. Talk about paying it forward, she has an overflowing account of good will, love and support coming her way.

All life is fragile and the delicate balance of our choices and their consequences can be overwhelming. From taking a stand for the Lake, eagles and other wildlife, to living your life in alignment with your deepest and most dearly held convictions, these are the threads that bind us together. There are bound to be losses that bring us to our knees but the tapestry we've built with our words, actions and lives will support us until we can walk on, towards what's next.

A bit of advice Given to a young Native American At the time of his initiation: As you go the way of life, You will see a great chasm.  Jump. It is not as wide as you think.

Joseph Campbell