A stroll down memory lane

This morning Matt and I were recounting our stories of being knocked out. In elementary school, some kid kicked a basketball across the blacktop and it hit me in the head. A few minutes later, I became aware of voices surrounding me in the blackness of post-black out and I heard the yard duty lady cautioning the other kids to "Move back. Give him room." I heard one of my friends informing her that "it's a girl". Ah yes, my ambiguous gender phase. (Really, it was just the haircut). This was a few years earlier, but basically most of my childhood was plagued by one bad haircut after another.

Thanks to the kodak gods, I do not have a picture of my "Pat Riley" phase, or the hideous peach polka dot three tiered ruffled dress I sported with the over-gelled slicked back hair for my Sixth grade graduation.



In addition to recalling nightmares of haircuts past, the olden days came up in conversation recently when Lore mentioned, as we were celebrating Travis' 30th birthday by suckering him and his friends into a weekend of free labor (during which we labeled wine AND picked grapes all in the same weekend!), that it was also Sky's 30th harvest.


Thirty years of harvesting grapes. That is a lifetime! (Well, a lifetime if you are a young'un like Travis, and almost a whole lifetime if you are a wise 32 year old, but no where near a lifetime if you are of the older Olds variety, like Lore, or Grandma, who just celebrated her 89th birthday this week!). I have harvested at Sky for twenty-five of those thirty (I only missed 1995, 1996, 1998, 2002, and 2003).


Some of those years blend together in my mind, while other moments and eras stand out distinctly. Just as the vines are gradually changing and aging, and some even being replaced by new vines, so too has the community of people who support Sky and who are Sky changed.

When I was younger, many of our volunteers were architectural colleagues of my Grandfather's; later there were crews of chefs and restaurant staff; most recently, you can barely pick a vine without running into a lawyer. Each era brings with a new chapter with a different vitality, menu, sound and set of running jokes.

And even more so lately, a new generation. We have had my grandparent's generation of folks, my parents', us kids, and now, the kids are having kids.


This year was Isobel's second harvest, and Eva and Ellison's third harvests.

And in the Sky spirit of wining and dining, I believe all three kids ate enough grapes to turn their insides purple and partook of the harvest dinners with glee. I especially loved how all three seemed to love the duck above all else.

Iso quacked as she worked on her bone...






Ellison woke up the morning after Amy's duck leg dinner asking his dad for duck...



























... and Eva finished two legs off all by her lonesome!



Now those are Sky kids if I ever heard of any. And I hear that there are more to come...

We can't wait!

Portrait of a Young Pig

With the arrival of a 270 pound pig last Thursday night, of which Matt and I took possession of a quarter, our lives has been dominated by Pig.

Pig has been the focus of many discussions, events, facebook postings, and of course, meals in the past few days. I will attempt to chronicle some of this little pig's afterlife.

Pig spent its vital days on a small farm in Oregon. The sustainability Pig's home, Laughing Stock, was profiled a few years ago in the Atlantic: Principled Pork. I have eaten Pig's brethren at Chez many times and enjoyed them immensely. I hope Pig enjoyed her days on the farm. We are certainly enjoying the days following the farm.

I missed Pig's arrival due to a business trip. Two fellow Pig recipients picked her up at Camino's kitchen and took her to the butcher at Star Market. My first acquaintance was one minute after arriving home from the airport on Friday night, when Matt, Val, Mica and I crowded around some pork chops debating whether to trim any of the glorious fat.

I compromised and agreed to trim less fat off that had been requested of me. The chops were awesome. A little salt, Matt's exquisite grilling, and a side of mashed potatoes (with a little pork fat added). It was Pig's first performance and she performed wonderously.

I took the fat I trimmed and rendered it two ways. The author of my cookbook, "Fat" preferred the oven method, but I find that I am partial to the stove top. I cut up portions of my 53 pounds of pork cuts into better serving sizes -- and of course I was so excited that I had to open up almost every package and check out the goods -- and returned them to the freezer.

The next couple of days found me pouring through all my cookbooks that might shed light on some of the joys of working with the whole pig. Surprisingly, or perhaps not, I have quite a few of them: Fat, Cooking By Hand (Bertolli), Chez Panisse Cooking (Waters and Bertolli), the Art of the Charcuterie (Grigson), and Beyond Nose to Snout.

My next project was cracklins. Salt cured for a day with spices and much salt and then baked with heavy objects weighing down the fat. They came out crispy and flavorful, but on the salty side. Next time I'll do a better rinse job with the salt.

Next came the big sausage party! Each of Pig's quarters sent representatives: Me and Matt, Luke and Jennifer, Mica, and Matt P. (plus his buddy). We took the scraps and made four kinds of sausage: breakfast sausage, hot (well-intended, but mild last time I checked) Italian, Fennel, and Brats. So far, I've been digging the brats.

The sausage party, aside from being a veritable treasure trove of material for inappropriate humor, was primo.

One of the things that I love about Pig, in addition to the amazing flavors, is the community she engenders. All of us together embarking on the sausage experience was thrilling. It was how things used to be done. We gathered with our friends and set to work to make sure that Pig was not wasted. We toiled together, drank together, laughted together, ground pork and spices together, and at the end, ate our homemade sausage together. It was a big day of work and it was so great. Not really so different from harvest, actually.

I'm guessing we made about 40 pounds of sausage on Sunday. We had three kitchen aids running, four mortar and pestels grinding, and red pepper flakes everywhere. Last night I feasted on fresh brats and sauted spinache. The flavors had married and the sausage shone.

Tonight, I am braising pork belly. We sent half of the pork belly to the butcher to be smoked for bacon and the Matt and I got half of the half that was left. Some of ours is destined for lardo perhaps, but I've been excited to braise some belly. Tonight is the test run before we share the belly with some good company. Seared and then arranged on a bed of soffritto (onions, carrots, leeks, garlic), with some brown sugar, soy sauce, and dry white wine. It's almost ready to come out of the oven so I'll go finish the potato/celeriac mash and the sauted kale and set the table.

Thanks, Pig.

What's In Skyla's Box

Check out what was delivered in my box today!

I believe it is a celeriac/carrot/rutabaga (male) alien!

The Full Belly Box provided an exciting array of choices today. In addition to the alien components, we had potatoes, kale, leeks, and spinach.

I'm cooking cassoulet (fennel sausage and duck confit), baked butternut squash, and perhaps sauteed kale for dinner tonight. Matt invited an audiophile/wine guy over to play with his tube amp.

All sorts of sketch going-ons round these parts.

Enjoy the bounty of winter (and trim that rutabaga!)