Dungeness crab season started on December 16th this year, much to the relief of cooks, diners and Oregon's crab fleet of 424 small family-owned vessels that ply the waters up and down our 362-mile coast. This year's opener, while delayed by a week or so from original predictions, was still weeks earlier than in recent years when it was delayed due to concerns over the presence of domoic acid, a naturally occuring biotoxin that can build up in crustaceans.

Over the past decade, a season opener in December was a rare occurrence, a devastating blow to fishing families who traditionally had relied on holiday sales to home cooks, grocery stores and restaurants to carry them through the winter. The downstream effect on their local communities was no joke, either, causing everyone from hardware stores to grocery stores to gas stations to tighten their belts.

This season, though, with its early start and plentiful supply, should be a good one for fishers, coastal communities and crab-lovers alike. To kick off crab season at our house, I'd been jonesing for a festive crab chowder to serve on Christmas Eve. Fortune smiled when I came across my friend Nancy Harmon Jenkins's post about a lobster chowder served at Portland, Maine's iconic Fore Street restaurant. Sam Hayward, its James Beard award-winning chef and co-owner, is considered the dean of Maine's culinary scene. Jenkins wrote:

"[Hayward's] main (Maine) effort has been to inspire us all to Pay Attention—pay attention to quality, pay attention to our relationship to the soil and the waters that surround us, pay attention to what’s happening in our gardens, on our stoves, and on our tables.

"In Sam’s recipe for what he calls Scotian Lobster Chowder (the name, he says, because he learned to make it in Nova Scotia), you can see his thoughtfulness coming to play: the freshly steamed lobster, the specificity of russet potatoes, the density of the thick Jersey cream, the gentle stewing of the leeks in butter, the emphasis on shoe-peg corn."

Like many great classics, the recipe itself* is simple and elegant, with one smashingly simple technique that I'd never run across before: pre-cooking the called-for russet potatoes with leeks to jumpstart the process that lends the chowder its characteristic thickness rather than adding flour, which all to often tends to give it a paste-like, gloppy texture.

Because we are, as noted above, in prime Dungeness season, I chose to substitute our native crustacean for Maine's and make a stock from the shells after picking them of their meat. This is a company-worthy special occasion dish but it's also easy enough to prepare with shrimp or other shellfish instead of the crab on a weeknight.

Here's wishing our fleet a safe and bountiful season!

Dungeness Crab Chowder

3 oz. bacon, cut in 1/4 inch dice
Butter (around half a stick, divided)
2 large russet (baking) potatoes (or 3 medium), peeled and sliced into 1/2" dice
2 medium (or one large) leeks cut in 1/4 inch dice
2 live, large Dungeness crabs
1 c. whole milk
1 c. half-and-half
8 oz. corn cut from the cobs (or 8 oz. frozen)
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

To prepare the live crab, fill a 3 to 5-gallon stock pot 2/3 full of water and bring to a hearty boil. When it's boiling, grab the crabs by the back of the shell (their large front claws are usually banded shut) and slide them, upside-down, into the boiling water. Cover with a lid and boil for 20 minutes. Drain and allow to cool in the sink. (If you're using pre-cooked crabs, start here.)

Instructions on cleaning a crab here. My friend Hank Shaw has a guide for picking the meat here. Remember to save the shells for stock (below).

Once you've picked the meat, set it aside in a bowl in the fridge. Put the shells in a large pot and cover with water (about 1 quart). Bring to a boil on the stove and reduce heat to simmer for 30 minutes. Strain through a fine mesh sieve and reserve the stock.

In a heavy stock pot or Dutch oven, gently sauté the bacon in a teaspoon of butter until it yields its fat and starts to turn crisp on the edges. Add the potatoes and leeks and 1/2" of water, just enough to keep the potatoes from sticking. Bring to a simmer, then cover the pan and cook gently until the vegetables are soft, 20 to 30 minutes.

At the end of the cooking time for the vegetables, add the stock from the crab shells. Combine the milk and half-and-half in a small saucepan and set over medium heat. Bring to a simmer for 2 to 3 minutes to get rid of the rawness, then add to the vegetables and stock, stirring to combine. Add the crab meat and once the chowder comes to a simmer again—don't let it boil or the milk will curdle—turn off the heat, cover the pan, and leave it for 20 minutes. 

Just before serving, bring the chowder to a simmer once more, stir in the corn and simmer 5 to 10 minutes, or until the corn is just done. Adjust the seasoning and serve immediately. If you wish, float a pat of butter (a little more richness) on the surface of each bowl as you serve up the chowder.

Makes 8 servings.

* Get Nancy Harmon Jenkins's recipe for lobster chowder by signing up for a paid subscription or a 7-day free trial.

Photo of crab boats at dawn by my friend Bette Sinclair.

In the spirit of Halloween, it's the ideal time to feature the more than 900 members of the gourd family, or Cucurbitaceae. As Ginger Rapport of the Beaverton Farmers Market wrote in a recent newsletter:

"Although pumpkin, squash, and gourd names are sometimes used interchangeably, it is important to remember that gourds are purely ornamental. Botanically a fruit but culinarily used as a vegetable, winter squash and pumpkins can be decorative and can also be food.

"Because of its very long shelf life, winter squash is a great source of vitamins during the colder months. In our growers’ stalls, you will find plenty of colors, shapes, and sizes to choose from, and each variety has its own personality."

With its easygoing nature—being a breeze to clean and peel, with a sweet, slightly buttery flavor and smooth texture—Butternut squash is one of the most commonly mentioned types and the easiest to find in stores. But venture a bit further afield and you'll discover a world of other varieties to choose from whether you're making soups, curried stews or even desserts.

Just this last week I whipped up a delightful appetizer of fried squash blossoms from a gift of zucchini flowers from Randy Long of Cohesive Farms, a farmer at the Headwaters Farm Incubator in Gresham. Then a hearty dinner of minestrone soup that included colorful delicata squash from my Stoneboat Farm CSA, a squash I'm fond of because of its harlequin coloring and the delightful fact that this variety doesn't require peeling. (Find the recipe below).

Squash seems to be a natural pairing with curry, and the aroma of a curried squash stew simmering on the stove dispels any chill in the wintry air—check out this recipe for curried coconut soup (with or without the accompanying roasted cauliflower).

Squash desserts go far beyond just pumpkin pie—I have fond memories of the squash sorbet that Dave concocted with the roasted flesh of one of my favorite varieties, the voluptuous Musquée de Provence. But if pumpkin pie is your jam, particularly with Thanksgiving looming, ditch the store-bought Libby's and pick up a squash on your next trip to the farmers' market, whether a warty-but-delicious French heirloom Galleux d'Eysine, our own PNW variety the Lower Salmon River, or a more familiar Hubbard. Here's the recipe for Squash (Pumpkin) Pie I make at least a couple of times a season.

So broaden your horizons and give the butternut a rest, whether by picking up a kabocha, black futsu, Gill's Golden Pippin or Koginut. There's a whole world of squash out there to explore!

Winter Minestrone with Delicata Squash

1 onion, diced in 1/2" squares
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 carrot, diced small
2 medium delicata squash, cleaned and diced in 1/2" squares
2 c. diced zucchini
1 qt. roasted tomatoes, breaking up the large chunks with your hands)
8 c. chicken or vegetable stock
2-3 c. cooked cannelini beans (I used cooked pinto beans from Sun Gold Farm)
1-2 c. chopped kale or other greens (optional)
1-2 c. chicken, sausage or meat, shredded (optional)
Salt to taste
Finely grated parmesan, pesto and/or olive oil for serving at the table

Saute onions and garlic for 2-3 min. until golden. Add carrots, saute 2-3 min. (This is the base that Marcella Hazan refers to as soffritto—the raw, diced vegetables are the battuto. The final stage is the insaporire, or sautéing the rest of the vegetables in that base. Who knew?) In any case, add the chopped zucchini and saute for 2-3 min. Then add the rest of the ingredients except for the condiments (for the table) and bring to a boil. Cover, reduce heat and simmer for 2-3 hrs. Serve with parmesan, pesto and/or olive oil.

As sad as I was to bid farewell to the sweetness of summer lettuces and greens, I have to say I started drooling at the prospect of the bitter bite of the hearty chicories that would soon be filling market stalls and greengrocers' shelves. As versatile as brassicas in everything from salads to soups and stir-fries, the split heads can even take the char from a grill, griddle or broiler.

Right now is the peak moment to check out the rainbow of colors and textures available from local farms—and you'll find the best prices on them at the farmers' market! It's a task I'm completely signed up for, obviously, and fortunately my Stoneboat Farm CSA includes them in its shares almost every week.

If you happen to be averse to the intensity of chicory's bitterness, you can take a page from Nostrana's Chef Cathy Whims and soak the chopped leaves in ice water for a couple of hours ahead of time.

Lately I've been enjoying winter salads by chopping them into salads with a variety of other seasonally appropriate greens and condiments. One green in particular that seems to beautifully complement chicory's bitterness is deep green lacinato kale, sweetened as it always is this time of year by the frosts that cause the plants to flood the leaves with sugars to keep them from freezing. I also love that it adds a dark contrast to the chicory's bright colors, and its bubbly texture adds a soft crunch to the mix.

The variations are endless: I've thrown in crushed hazelnuts, green onions, sweet peppers, chopped beets, capers, dried cranberries—you name it, I've probably tried it. And a sprinkling of grated parmesan or crumbled blue cheese is not a bad idea, either. I like a creamy dressing (see below) but a classic Caesar dressing, a sweet mustard vinaigrette or even a fig and balsamic dressing would all do this salad justice.

"A Few of My Favorite Things" Chicory Salad

For the dressing:
3 Tbsp. mayonnaise
1 Tbsp. Dijon mustard
2 Tbsp. rice vinegar
1 clove garlic, pressed in a garlic press
1 Tbsp. white miso
Herbs, finely chopped (I like dried or fresh tarragon or thyme, as well as chopped chives)
1 tsp. honey (optional)

For the salad:
Radicchio or chicory leaves, chopped into 1" pieces
Lacinato kale, chopped into 1/4" chiffonade
Condiments like crushed hazelnuts, slivered green onions, chopped sweet peppers, chopped beets, capers, etc.
Grated parmesan or crumbled blue cheese (optional)

For the dressing, combine ingredients in a small bowl and stir until smooth.

Combine salad ingredients in appropriately sized salad bowl, drizzle with dressing of your choice and toss.

The e-mails I get from local farmers' markets are often packed with information, not only about the vendors you'll find there each week, but often containing helpful information and recipes for the seasonal products stacked on their vendors' tables. The essay below, for instance, is from a recent Beaverton Farmers Market newsletter:

Most people think that they know the difference between sweet potatoes and yams, but they have been deceived. Sweet potatoes are not a type of yam, and yams are not a type of sweet potato. They are both tuberous root vegetables that come from a flowering plant, but they are not related and actually don’t have a lot in common. Yams are native to Africa and Asia and are related to lilies. Compared to sweet potatoes, yams are starchier and drier. In our country, yams are likely to be found in international and specialty markets, if at all. Sweet potatoes are the vegetables that you find in our grocery stores and farmers' markets.

Sweet potatoes come from the morning glory family (Ipomoea). Of the numerous varieties grown in the U.S., there are two major types: firm sweet potatoes, which have golden skin and paler flesh, and soft sweet potatoes, which have copper skin and orange flesh. The firm varieties cook up firm and a little waxy, the soft varieties are creamy, fluffy, and moist. Firm varieties were the first to be grown in the U.S. When we started growing the soft varieties, it was felt that there was a need to call them something different so they decided to call them “yams." This was a marketing decision, not a botanical one.

Yams have rough brown skin and a dry, starchy texture and grow mainly in Europe, Asia and Africa. The word “yam” comes from the West African word “nyami," which means “to eat.” Sweet potatoes, on the other hand, are native to North America, have a conical shape, are usually red or orange in color, and have a sweet and creamy texture, which makes them very versatile and easy to cook with.

Roasted Yams or Sweet Potatoes Your Way

Recipe from the Good Stuff NW files.

This is a basic recipe that you can adapt any way you want. Roast the sweet potatoes in the oven, then serve them as is, or slather with butter; sweeten with a drizzle of maple syrup or a sprinkling of brown sugar and a splash of lemon; or simply improvise!

2-3 large yams or sweet potatoes, peeled and cut crosswise in 1/2" slices
2-3 cloves garlic, minced
2 Tbsp. olive oil
1/2 tsp. salt
Herbs, optional

Preheat oven to 350°.

Place slices in a large bowl with garlic, olive oil, salt and herbs, if using. Stir to combine and coat the slices. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper and lay the slices on it in a single layer. Place in oven and roast for 30-45 minutes until they can be easily pierced with a fork. Serve as is or zhoosh to your heart's content.

Top photo: Nat, Riverland Family Farm, courtesy Beaverton Farmers Market.

Even in the coldest months we keep our house at a moderate 66 degrees, both to save energy and money, though I've been known to sneak it up a degree (to 67!) if the chill begins to seep too far into my bones even under several layers of clothing.

In the past couple of days our furnace kicked on for the first time this fall, which inevitably signals the beginning of serious soup, stew and braising season around here. Warming from the inside out, not just filling growling bellies, is the point of setting down a steaming bowl in front of my family, and we keep them in regular rotation through the cold months.

Some soups and stews benefit from spending hours melding their flavors in a big pot on the stove, filling the house with an aroma that promises something hearty and mouthwatering to come. Others can come together in less than 30 minutes—I see you Creamy Tomato Soup and your cousin, Split Pea—or can be made ahead to serve when the need arises. The stew below is one of those, quick to make but one that is equally happy to simmer on the stovetop or even wait in the freezer for its debut.

Since I now have homemade kimchi on hand, it's a handy solution for one of those I-don't-feel-like-cooking nights when inspiration and/or time are in short supply. If you don't make your own kimchi, I heartily recommend locally produced Choi's Kimchi or those available at local farmers' markets.

This recipe calls for pork belly, but it's also fantastic with smoked bacon, shredded leftover chicken or even no meat at all. Exquisitely flavored, it needs nothing more than the addition of fluffy rice to make a company-worthy feast.

Kimchi Stew

Adapted from Susana Holloway

2 Tbsp. vegetable oil
1/2 lb. pork belly, in 1/4" dice
1/2 onion, diced
3-4 cloves garlic, minced
2 c. (1 pint) napa cabbage kimchi
4 c. chicken stock
1 block firm tofu, cut in 1/2" dice
1 Tbsp. fish sauce
Salt and pepper to taste
Chopped cilantro or sliced green onions for garnish (optional)

Heat vegetable oil in a soup pot or Dutch oven over medium heat. When the oil shimmers, add the pork belly. When it has rendered most of its fat, add onions and sauté until tender, then add garlic. When garlic is warmed, add in kimchi and stock, bring to a simmer and cook on low heat for about 30 minutes. Add tofu and fish sauce and simmer for a final 5-7 minutes to warm tofu through. Season to taste with salt and pepper if needed and garnish with cilantro or green onions if desired.

Oregon is so incredibly fortunate to have an abundance of pasture-based farms that are focused on animal welfare and the hard work of improving their soil.

There's Chris and Zack Menchini's Campfire Farms in Canby, Michael and Linda Guebert's Terra Farma in Corbett, Ryan Ramage and his family at Ramage Farms in Canby, Jared Gardner's Nehalem River Ranch at the coast, and in the snow-covered mountains and wheat fields of Eastern Oregon you'll find Cory Carman's Carman Ranch and Liza Jane McAlister, matriarch of 6 Ranch—whose tagline "Doing it the hard way since 1884" has this former ad person swooning—among dozens more. (Find where to get the products from local farms and ranches that have adopted pasture-based methods in the invaluable Oregon Pasture Network Guide.)

If you follow any of these folks on social media or sign up for their newsletters like I have, you'll find that they'll occasionally post special offerings when they need to make room in their freezers or have extra stock (no pun intended) available. So when I run across a screaming deal on Carman Ranch ground beef or see that Campfire Farms is offering a box of assorted sausages and pasture-raised chicken breasts for a (relative) song, I jump on it.

That was the case when Ryan Ramage posted a photo of a box of beef chuck roasts and short ribs for close to half off the regular price. It did necessitate driving to Oregon City for a not-so-clandestine meetup at Tony's Smoke House and Cannery where Ryan was making a delivery, but he graciously plopped the box in the boot of the Subie and I handed him a check. Done!

One of the chuck roasts was left out to thaw in a tub of cool water and I started the quest for a chili recipe that would assuage my craving for a chile-laced black bean version. Having belatedly stumbled across the amazing collection of videos and recipes of Pati Jinich, a superb cook and passionate activist for authentic Mexican culture and cuisine—watch her moving interview with Mayan women who formed a baseball team and are now national stars—I found a recipe for braised pork with chiles used as a filling to make pork chilorio burritas.

With apologies to Ms. Jinich, I substituted beef for the pork and added some of my roasted tomatoes and black beans to the ingredients. The result was magical. I hope you check out her videos and enjoy this bowl of delicious pastured beef and bean chili!

Epic Beef and Black Bean Chili

Adapted from a Pati Jinich recipe for pork chilorio burritas.

1 lb. dried black beans
3-4 lbs. pastured beef chuck roast, cut in 1" cubes
1 1/4 c. fresh-squeezed orange juice
1 1/4 c. water
1 tsp. kosher or sea salt
5 dried ancho chiles, tops and seeds removed
1 1/2 c. of the chile soaking liquid
1/2 c. onion, roughly chopped
4 cloves garlic
1 tsp. dried oregano
1/4 tsp. ground cumin
1/4 tsp. ground black pepper
2/3 c. cider vinegar
2 c. roasted tomatoes
3 Tbsp. vegetable oil
1/4 tsp. salt plus more to taste
Condiments (optional): Grated cheddar or crumbled cotija, sliced avocados, shredded cabbage, sour cream (crema), sliced jalapeños, red pepper flakes, hot sauce(s)

The evening before serving, soak the beans by placing them in a large saucepan and cover with water by two inches. Put a lid on the pot and place on the counter or the back burner of the stove to soak (unheated) overnight.

At least three hours before serving, drain the beans and set aside.

Place meat in a Dutch oven or large pot and pour orange juice and water over it. The liquid should barely cover the meat—if it does not, simply add more water. Add a teaspoon of salt and bring to a boil, then cover and turn down the heat to simmer for 60 to 90 minutes, until much of the liquid is gone. The meat should be cooked but still retain its shape. so once the meat is cooked, pour it into a large bowl and set aside.

While the meat cooks, remove the stems and seeds from the ancho chiles, tearing them into large pieces. (You may want to wear gloves for this step if you're sensitive to their oils.) Place the pieces of the chiles in a heatproof bowl and cover them with boiling water, letting them steep for about 30 minutes. Once the chiles have rehydrated and cooled, place them and 1 1/2 cups of their soaking liquid in the blender, adding the onion, garlic, parsley, oregano, cumin, black pepper, vinegar, and roasted tomatoes. Purée on high until smooth.

Take the pot that you cooked the meat in and heat the vegetable oil over medium heat. Pour in the blended chile sauce and simmer 4 to 5 minutes. Add the meat with its cooking liquid and the soaked, drained beans to the sauce in the pot. Add 1/4 teaspoon salt and let it cook, stirring occasionally, until the beans are tender but not mushy, 45 minutes to an hour. Taste for salt and add more if need be.

Serve as is or with a panoply of condiments as suggested above.

Read more about Terra Farma; Carman Ranch; and Nehalem River Ranch.

There's a reason the French love braised beef, simmered slowly for hours until it's just short of falling apart. Whether you call it bourguignon or daube as the French do, or pot roast or beef stew, it's a sumptuous, belly-warming meal that fills the house with its luscious aroma and can feed a crowd or keep a couple in dinners and lunches for days.

It's also adaptable to different seasonings depending on what's in your pantry or still hanging on in your winter garden. A classic Provençale beef daube calls for red wine, tomatoes and herbs, while an Italian stracotto—translated as "overcooked" for some reason—calls for…well…red wine, tomatoes and herbs. One may lean more heavily toward bay leaf and thyme while the other includes rosemary, but it's poh-tay-toh, poh-tah-toh as far as I'm concerned.

Same for a beef stew or pot roast. One may include cutting the beef into chunks and browning first in a dusting of flour mixed with salt and pepper, or throwing in potatoes for the last few minutes, but as long as the meat is simmered until it's about to slip the bonds of structural integrity, it's good to go.

Fortunately it looks like the Pacific Northwest will have at least a few more weeks of what I like to call braising weather before spring temperatures begin in earnest, so don't put away your stew pot just yet. The recipe below is for my version of bourguignon, but don't be afraid to sub in other vegetables or herbs.

Pot Roast Bourguignon

This is extremely easy to make, but you'll need to get it in the oven four hours before dinner or make it the day before. Cutting back on the time in the oven makes for a less-than-stellar experience.

4 slices bacon, cut in 1/4" strips
1 3-5 lb. chuck roast
Salt and pepper
1 large onion, chopped in 1/2" dice
4 cloves garlic, minced
2 ribs celery, chopped in 1/4" slices (optional)
4 carrots, sliced in 1/4" rounds
1 lb. mushrooms, halved vertically and cut into slices
1 Tbsp. dried basil
1 tsp. dried thyme
1 Tbsp. minced fresh rosemary (from two 6-inch sprigs)
1 qt. (32 oz.) roasted tomatoes
3-4 c. red wine

Preheat oven to 375°.

Put bacon in a large braising pot that can go in the oven and fry till fat is rendered and it starts to brown. Add onions and garlic and sauté 2-3 min., then add carrots and celery and sauté 2-3 min. Add sliced mushrooms and sauté till soft. Stir in tomatoes and herbs, then add wine. Sprinkle roast generously with salt and pepper add to pot. Bring to a boil, then cover and place pot in oven, baking for 2 hours.

Remove meat from pot and cut in 1/4" slices, then return the sliced meat to the pot, covering with sauce and vegetables. Cover and bake for another 1 1/2 hrs.

Remove to a serving dish. Serve with boiled or roasted potatoes or a rich, creamy polenta.

While the occurrence of scurvy, a severe deficiency of vitamin C, has been relatively rare in the U.S. population during my lifetime, that never stopped my mother from bringing it up as she poured us our glass of orange juice made from frozen concentrate every morning alongside our cold cereal—Grape Nuts or Wheaties for me, Frosted Flakes or Cap'n Crunch for my brothers.

Here in the Pacific Northwest, most of our fresh citrus comes from California these days, aside from the rare hardy Meyer lemons that some regional growers are beginning to experiment with. And what a plethora, a symphony, a cacophony of citrus it is, from oranges—not just navels but cara cara, blood oranges, valencias and more—tangerines, tangelos and mandarins to lemons, limes, grapefruit, key limes and kumquats. Then there are the more rare but becoming-more-available bumpy-skinned makrut limes, kaffir limes and finger limes (a cheffy favorite with their tiny jewel-like beads inside), plus crazy yellow-fingered buddha's hands, yuzu, limequats and giant pomelos, to name just a few.

For me, the dark days in the depths of winter are brightened by their brilliant colors and sparkling flavor. I make a point of throwing together a batch of preserved Meyer lemons that will punch up everything from roasted vegetables to stews, salads and grain dishes. The last couple of years Dave has concocted a masterful citrus marmalade, combining a couple of recipes from the New York Times along with his own brushstrokes of genius.

I think we're going to be safe from scurvy's scourge this year—Mom would be relieved.

Citrus Marmalade

2 blood oranges
1 navel orange
3 lemons
4 c. granulated sugar
1⁄4 c. fresh lemon juice

Wash the citrus well under warm running water. Using a sharp knife, slice off the top and bottom of the citrus so it sits sturdily on the cutting board. Halve the fruit top to bottom and remove any visible seeds. Lay the half on the cutting board and cut each half crosswise into 1/8-inch thick slices (white membrane and all), removing any seeds you might have missed.

Measure the volume of sliced fruit and place in a bowl. Cover with the same volume of water, keeping track of the amount of water you add. Cover with a lid or plastic wrap and let this sit for at least 8 hours and up to 24 hours in the refrigerator. (This will help extract the pectin slowly as well as soften the peels.)

Place a small plate in the freezer to chill. (You’ll use this later.)

Place the peels, fruit and water in a large pot. Add enough water to bring the total amount of water added to 6 cups and bring to a strong simmer over medium–high heat. Cook the citrus until the peels have begun to soften and turn translucent, and the liquid has reduced by about three-fourths, 40-50 minutes.

Add sugar and continue to cook, stirring occasionally. As the marmalade cooks and thickens, stir more frequently. Continue cooking until most of the liquid has evaporated, another 40-50 minutes.

As it cooks, the liquid will go from a rapid boil with smaller bubbles to a slower boil with larger bubbles. At this point it's important to stir constantly along the bottom of the pot to prevent scorching. (Be sure to watch out for splattering.) Add lemon juice and continue to cook.

To test the jam's thickness, take out the plate you put in the freezer and spoon some onto the chilled plate and let it sit on the counter for 1-2 minutes. Drag your finger through it—if the jam is done it will hold its shape and not be watery or runny. If not, cook a few more minutes.

Divide among jars, leaving 1/4 inch of space at the top, and seal immediately. You can preserve the jars in a water bath canner (follow directions on the canner), or allow to cool on the counter, then store in the refrigerator or freezer.

Top photo: Marmalade on Dave's homemade organic rye sourdough, a match made in heaven!

Ten days locked in ice. No water due to a break in a water main, with more than 100 animals, not to mention your livelihood, depending on it to keep them alive. Which means having to carry dozens of gallons of water by hand from the creek at the bottom of the property up a steep hill to the barn.

"Think about your farmers out in these situations and know that they're going through a lot," said Michael Guebert of Terra Farma in Corbett in a report on a local news channel. "It's really, really hard work during good conditions but under conditions like this it's really stressful and really exhausting."

Photos of hoop houses with their plastic coverings collapsed under the weight of ice and snow, fields of frozen vegetables, posts on social media about frozen irrigation lines and burst field pipes illustrated the hazards of farming in winter and the risks that farmers take this time of year.

"I've seen a lot of reports of collapsed greenhouses and barns from the weight of ice and snow, and also damage to structures, fences, and other infrastructure from falling power poles, {power] lines, trees and limbs," said Alice Morrison of Friends of Family Farmers, a statewide organization that advocates for small family farms.

In response to the damage caused by the extreme weather, Oregon Governor Tina Kotek declared a statewide emergency on January 18th, instructing agencies to begin working with counties to assess needs, as well as identifying federal resources that are unlocked by declaring a statewide emergency.

In answer to a query sent to the Oregon Department of Agriculture (ODA) about disaster relief from storm-caused damage, Director of Communications Andrea Cantu-Schomus responded, "ODA is not aware of a state resource for farmers who have suffered damage in the ice storms as of today. Individual commodity groups are working on relief efforts" and, without naming the groups that might help, suggested contacting them directly.

Loss of income to farmers from damage to crops, buildings and irrigation could be devastating for some, not to mention the lost income from the many farmers' markets closed because of the freezing temperatures and ice. If they were able to get out at all, many farmers were unable to deliver to retail customers and restaurants because of road closures and dangerous conditions. Others had to hold off on harvesting or reschedule pick-ups with their CSA subscribers.

Josh Volk of Cully Neighborhood Farm wrote on its blog that when he puts together the winter CSA schedule he always thinks, “Well, if it freezes we’ll just delay a week since harvests are typically every other week anyway. It's still a bummer, though…I have my fingers crossed that some of the remaining heads [of radicchio] made it through that cold snap."

As they did when the COVID pandemic shut down many in-person farmers' markets, some farmers pivoted to holding local pop-ups with other farmers and producers to make up for lost income. It also gave customers an opportunity to stock up on fresh meat, veggies, locally roasted coffee and baked goods. Other farmers were offering discounts on home delivery of meat, bread, fish and pantry items.

Year-round farmers' markets will be reopening this weekend and farmers are looking forward to getting back to normal. If you can, make plans to get to your neighborhood market and wish your favorite farmers well. They've been through the wringer!

Get a statewide listing of year-round markets and a sneak peek at what you'll find when you get there.

Photos: Guebert and bucket frozen in ice from KPTV report. Frozen field crops from Stoneboat Farm's Instagram feed.

synchronicity Noun; pron: syn·​chro·​nic·​i·​ty, siŋ-krə-ˈni-sə-tē; plural: synchronicities
1: the quality or fact of being synchronous.
2: the coincidental occurrence of events.

I love it when I'm walking with a friend—in this instance with my neighbor Ann, a professor of Asian art history, a professional soprano and an expert plantswoman—and we're talking, as we often do, about a favorite recipe. In this case, it was a sheet pan supper she'd made recently and, as we rambled behind our dogs through the neighborhood, I realized I had all the main ingredients in my fridge to make it that night.

Synchronicity, indeed!

When I arrived home I looked up the recipe online and found it was by New York Times writer Yewande Komolafe, who wrote "this recipe calls for a wintry mix of squash and turnips, but equal amounts of root vegetables like carrots, potatoes and beets, or lighter vegetables like cauliflower, brussels sprouts or broccoli will work well, too."

I had two very large garnet yams and two medium-sized rutabagas on hand, so I had roots aplenty, plus some carrots I'd just pulled from my neighbor Bill's garden earlier that day. The rutabagas still had their hefty leaves attached, so I chopped those up into bite-sized pieces, too, and threw them in with the rest of the vegetables.

Of course I had the exceptional gochujang I'd made from my friend Denise's family recipe, and I tweaked the NYT recipe by adding several cloves of garlic, a spoonful of locally made Jorinji miso and a couple of glugs of fish sauce to the sauce, plus a splash of fish sauce in the salad dressing.

The real genius of this recipe—thank you, Ms. Komolafe, I'll now be doing this with other dishes—is topping the roasted vegetables with a salad of lightly pickled radishes and scallion greens just before serving. I lucked out there, too, by pulling from my veg bin a gorgeous black radish from that selfsame CSA share.

If you have all the ingredients on hand, so much the better, but this is worth shopping for, too, and comes together in about an hour, most of which is roasting time

Gochujang Roasted Root Vegetables and Chicken Thighs

For the roasted vegetables and chicken:
3 Tbsp. gochujang*
2 Tbsp. soy sauce
1 Tbsp. fish sauce
1 (1-inch) piece fresh ginger, peeled and finely grated (about 1 tablespoon)
1 Tbsp. white miso
4 large cloves garlic, pressed in a garlic press
3 Tbsp. vegetable oil
2 lbs. garnet yams and rutabaga chopped into 1-inch pieces, about 5 loose cups (see above to substitute other vegetables)
10 scallions, roots trimmed, green and white/light green parts separated, sliced into 3" lengths
Kosher salt
3-4 good-sized, bone-in, skin-on chicken thighs

For the salad:
1 bunch radishes, about 10 oz., or 1 med. large black radish, trimmed and thinly sliced
2 Tbsp. rice vinegar
1 Tbsp. sesame oil
1/2 tsp. fish sauce

Heat the oven to 425°.

Combine the gochujang, soy sauce, fish sauce, miso, ginger, pressed garlic and vegetable oil in a zip-lock bag. Add the yams, rutabagas and scallion whites (reserving the darker greens for the salad), and shake to coat with sauce. Transfer to a rimmed baking sheet. Season the chicken with salt and toss to coat in whatever is left of the glaze in the bag. Arrange the chicken pieces skin-side up between the vegetables on the sheet. Roast until vegetables are tender, chicken is cooked through and the skin crispy and browned in spots, about 40 minutes.

While the chicken cooks, thinly chiffonade the scallion greens crosswise. Cut the radishes into thin rounds. If using a black radish, cut into approx. 1" sticks and slice thinly crosswise (do not peel—that black skin is very dramatic). In a small bowl, toss the sliced scallion greens and radishes with the rice vinegar, sesame oil and fish sauce. Season to taste with salt and set aside to lightly pickle, stirring occasionally to distribute dressing evenly.

When chicken and vegetables are done, remove the chicken to a plate and transfer vegetables to a platter. Quickly top vegetables with the drained quick-pickled salad, then place chicken thighs on top.

The recipe suggests serving this with steamed rice, but to me, root vegetables are generally fairly starchy, so I didn't feel it needed the rice.

* If you don't want to make your own gochujang, I've found Mother-in-Law's is a decent brand, but won't have nearly the depth of flavor you'll get from homemade.