chanterelles, a wild harvest

“If you go out in the woods today you’re sure of a big surprise,” goes the vintage children’s song Teddy Bear’s Picnic by American composer John Bratton with lyrics by Irish songwriter Jimmy Kennedy. 

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tonight: clams with white beans and fennel

“I’m serving burrowing marine mollusks that live in the mud for dinner. What to come over?” If you received this text from me, you might politely (or not so politely laugh in my face) decline the invitation. Sounds kinda disgusting, I know.

inky-purple prune plums

My family has a small farm in the lush Willamette Valley. Cows, pigs and chickens used to roam the fields and woods. A garden the size of a city block (or at least that’s how I remember it) produced enough to feed everyone and their neighbor. Now, the livestock consists of squirrels, deer and raccoons. The garden is a manageable size, which still yields enough to share with a local Mission. And, fruit trees dot the yard, sans the Italian prune-plum that met it’s demise years ago.