The Dinner Files

I had a hard week. Stressful. Anxiety producing. At one point just a wee bit scary. Nothing went quite how I’d wish it would. I felt overwhelmed and, at points, disheartened. Everything is much better now – no need to worry – and part of what cured my ills was a big pot of cream of wild rice soup.

I left the thickening work to the heavy cream by leaving both the flour and the potatoes out of it, I used pancetta where traditionalists would use ham, I tossed in some fresh thyme, and I added fancy-pants leeks instead of homey onions, but it was a fair reproduction of the soup I grew up with. My mom never made it – why would she when Lund’s had such a fine frozen version for sale? – but there was always a quart or two in the extra freezer in the basement, usually slotted into the shelves on the door this time of year, what with the freezer being full of ducks and pheasants.

My family gobbled it up just as happily as I used to. And they agreed that the generous grinds of black pepper at the end are key.

I’ve been enjoying a shorter-than-usual and yet still decadently long visit to northern Minnesota. There has been real sticky summer heat. There have been thunderstorms. There have been tornado warnings and watches. There has been walleye. There has been walleye eaten while playing bingo. There have been dives into cool fresh lake water and long swims along the shore. There have been bug bites so itchy they wake you up and ice cream cones licked while speeding over deep blue water in a fast moving boat. Fish and frogs and toads have been caught and released. A guitar was played and songs sung. Many many things have been grilled.

There was a breakfast at the Birchwood Cafe in Aitkin (home of the Gobblers!). It was a fine breakfast. Standard, quality diner fare except for two very Minnesotan touches.

First, and most delightfully, when the server confirmed that I, indeed, would like some coffee, she promptly brought me a thermal carafe full of the stuff to the table.

Second, and most charmingly, the Birchwood Cafe also offers “hot wild rice” as a side on the breakfast menu (it also puts it in the Great Northern omelet). A cup or a bowl, your choice.

I was in an eggy-hashbrowny mood that morning, so I did not order the wild rice. It got me thinking though. Planted a seed of wild rice for breakfast that grew into the wild rice porridge dish you see above. Leftover wild rice, heated up with a bit of milk, topped with toasted chopped nuts, a bit of maple syrup, and a drizzle of browned butter. Some dried blueberries would have been good, too, I’m sure, if I’d had them in the house.

Like last year, I am fortunate enough to find myself in Northern Minnesota for a few weeks this summer. I love it up here. I love the clear lake water. I love that Ernest has the freedom to go outside all by himself. I love that the local grocery store has four different options if you’re looking for wild rice. I love that since last summer that same store has decided to start carrying fresh jalapeno chiles.

And I love that in a town of less than 600 people the hardware store stocks lefse grills. Yes, that is plural. They have more than one. If I were back in San Francisco and got the yen to grill up some lefse, I would call ahead to Sur la Table to make sure they had one before heading down. I imagine I just might have to special order it. But here? I can just drive into town and pick one up. Not just pick one up, but get one for a neighbor as well if I were so inclined.

What’s lefse, you ask? It’s a potato-based Norwegian flat bread cooked on a griddle. It’s large, round, and delicious. I’ve never made lefse. As you might imagine, I’m thinking pretty seriously about driving into town, buying one of those grills, and getting busy. Anyone out there made lefse? Have a recipe? Tips?

Little known fact: you can “pop” wild rice just like you do popcorn. It doesn’t get as big as fluffy, and any un-popped seeds are pretty darn crunchy. Let’s just say that it’s not a snack for anyone with delicate dental work. But since my favorite part of popcorn is a magical combination of the salt and the unpopped or barely popped kernels, popped wild rice is right up my alley. It is also very fun to serve if you happen to have people over for cocktails because, well, it’s popped wild rice, and that’s pretty crazy so you’re all set for at least 5 if not 10 minutes of conversation. It also makes a deliciously crunchy thing to sprinkle on a salad – especially a salad of spicy greens like arugula tossed with a simple French-style vinaigrette and a handful or two of dried blueberries.

Seriously, pop it just like popcorn. If you want a more specific recipe, I’ve posted Popped Wild Rice over at Local Foods.

The sky is crying. It’s that kind of rain: It actually feels sad. It’s cold and still and wet, wet, wet. Boy am I glad I made wild rice congee last night and got to heat up the leftovers for lunch. Regular readers will well guess that this dinner fit very nicely into Project Eat That Rice – it used three kinds! Feel free to experiment with different types of rice, although the wild rice retains more of its texture under the long cooking and gives the porridge a slightly less porridge-y consistency.

This dish is always a big hit with the family since everyone can customize their bowl with the garnishes of their choice. Green onions or chives or some sort of allium are sort of key, from my point of view, and most uncharacteristically we didn’t have any in the fridge. So last night found me pulling long green leaves in the backyard in the dark, smelling each handful to identify the garlic chives that were deeply integrated with rogue grass in our un-weeded garden. Our fridge did contain some lemongrass, though, so I peeled off the tough outer layers and chopped up the tender inner core, which was a lovely addition to the congee, adding a little bright kick to this warm and cozy dish.

Last night Ernest took particular interest in the garnishing process, asking, when he was done, “Does that look beautiful?” Yes, we told him. Yes it does.

As regular readers know, I live in San Francisco. As very regular readers know, I am in Minnesota for a few weeks. I’m at my family’s cabin on a lake in Northern Minnesota. This afternoon I stopped by the market in a nearby town before picking up Ernie from day camp. I was not surprised there were no fresh jalapeños to be found, nor that there was no tofu, and I guess, when I thought about it, I wasn’t surprised by this either:

But I thought you might be. Yes, you’re seeing right. That’s two kinds of 100% Minnesota-grown wild rice and canned cooked wild rice. This at a small market in a small town.

I did not partake. We had chicken and cheese quesadillas with a remarkably un-spicy avocado and tomato salad.

Ernie summed up the frustration of many a San Franciscan on the way to school this morning: “Mama,” he asked, “why are these summer days so cold? Summer days are supposed to be hot.”

And yet they are not.

It’s dreary and cold, the middle of summer, and our cupboard is overrun with rice. Yes, that’s right: rice. I agree it is a better problem to have than being overrun with mice, but it’s ridiculous:

And this is after I pulled out six (6!) 1-lb.bags of Minnesota wild rice because it was just embarrassing. My dashing husband asked how it could have happened. I had no clear answer. Yes, there was a rice story for Sunset. Yes, some of the above was given/sent to me by rice growers. But still. How does a person end up with three bags of “forbidden rice”? How much risotto do I think I’m going to make? Why a 5-lb. bag? I hope it was on super-sale.

So I let Ernie pick out the rice we would have for dinner and got to work. Something warming and yet summery. I didn’t hit it perfectly, but we were all surprised by how delicious everything was together.

Some small white beans cooked in a broth of onions, celery, carrots, garlic, and peppercorns until tender, heat turned off, generous salt added, and allowed to cool in their broth until drained and sauteed in olive oil with garlic, red chile flakes, and parsley. I cooked the “wild rice” (I used some of the cultivated California stuff infecting my cupboard) with onion and celery and used the bean broth as the liquid. A handful of chopped walnuts thrown in at the end highlighted the nutty taste and texture. I will say this: California “wild rice” always seems to take about a thousand years to cook and it goes from underdone to overdone in about a second. If you’ve never had it, track down some of the real stuff. The kind that grows in rivers and marshes in Minnesota and Canada. You’ll never look back.

So now we’re warm and cozy, so we can stand a bit of summery “health salad” of chopped cucumber (garden and Armenian), red onion, and tomato. I used the red brandywines we got from the farm this week. They’re perfect for salads–firm enough to stand up to being dressed a bit. I also used some red wine vinegar I’ve been making. More on that later….

And I’m sorry for all that rhyming above. I don’t know what got into me.