Spring Camp Falls

There are, it seems, two muses: the Muse of Inspiration, who gives us inarticulate visions and desires, and the Muse of Realization, who returns again and again to say "It is yet more difficult than you thought." This is the muse of form. It may be then that form serves us best when it works as an obstruction, to baffle us and deflect our intended course. It may be that when we no longer know what to do, we have come to our real work and when we no longer know which way to go, we have begun our real journey. The mind that is not baffled is not employed. The impeded stream is the one that sings.

Wendell Berry

Will and I have visited quite a few waterfalls in the past year but Spring Camp Falls was one of the most lovely. We started the day headed towards Potato Falls but after failing to get close enough to the falls and climbing up the steepest river bank I've been on in 30 years (I'm terrified of heights), we decided to try and find Spring Camp Falls. I saw a description of it on the internet before we left and the sum total of what I remembered was it was outside of Hurley, somewhere. Since I knew how to get to Hurley, had a full tank of gas, at least 4 hours until dark and car full of adventurous people (and one yellow Lab)— we decided to drive until we got cell service, google the location, get directions and take a few photos. If only it was that easy.

After the hair-raising cliff climbing adventure, we thought ice cream would be the perfect way to fortify ourselves for the next waterfall hike. Except the DQ in Hurley was closed and, faced with a car full of nearly mutinous children, I turned towards Ironwood in search of another ice cream option. And then it hit me, the first place we stopped after I bought George (from a nice man in Bessemer) was the McDonald's on the highway. Since George was in the car, all grown up and handsome, taking a trip down memory lane at the McDonald's where he had his first french fry (he was a food hound from the moment he joined our family) was even more than physical fortification— it was a celebration of George. I was chattering away to the kids while Will looked up the location of the falls and in my excitement, I neglected to read the directions until we were out of cell phone range. Big mistake.

Here are the directions (from the Travel Wisconsin site):

'Heading south from Hurley on US 51, travel about 4.5 mi to County Road C. Turn right (west). About 1.5 mi west, the county road will take a sharp turn north-don't take that. Continue forward on the gravel road. About 1 mi, turn to the south, following the'

Following the...what?? Will and I, while I was driving down dirt roads to nowhere, tried to fill in the blank. Following the river, the yellow brick road, the pied piper, the big sign that says 'Spring Camp Falls this way'?? I hate asking for directions but it was getting late and after all this driving around, I wasn't going to let my bullheadedness get in the way of a waterfall photo safari. After a wrong turn into someone's deer camp (Meg had never seen a plywood stand with a toilet seat in the woods before), we took a right at an intersection with a bunch of signs on the corner. We drove and drove and drove until we finally saw an old man walking down the road. I stopped the car and asked if he lived around here, to which he answered, 'all my life, about 85 years'— at least I had enough luck to find a knowledgeable direction provider (unlike Travel Wisconsin). Back where we took a right (at the corner with all the signs), we should have taken a left. We thanked our kind direction giver and traveled back the way we came. Right back to the intersection with all the signs and the one sign we missed, 'Spring Camp Falls 1 mile ahead'.

Our day started out with Potato Falls as our destination and instead, we spent a couple of hours in the car driving through remarkably beautiful country, laughing about George stories, bickering about Will's music choices and breathing the same air, in the same space for a little while. As Berry said, 'It may be that when we no longer know what to do, we have come to our real work and when we no longer know which way to go, we have begun our real journey' and while a road trip to a waterfall is a small thing compared to finding my real work, I'm so glad we took the long way around.

Two themes that have played themselves over and over in my life's reel are surrender and acceptance. And believe me, my rudimentary understanding of those two words has been hard won. I don't like to ask for directions and I sure didn't ever want to surrender. Surrendering meant straying from the script I wrote, in my head, and allowing someone or something else to take the reins— not exactly my cup of tea (or more accurately, my glass of dry Spanish red wine). Except that when I did, because I was flattened by trying to orchestrate a life that had become unruly, I could take a breath without impediment. I knew whatever challenges, detours or roadblocks I encountered were there because I was ready for the next thing. The thing I hadn't even dreamed of yet.

It doesn't mean it's all rosy with rainbows and butterflies but it does mean the moment you think, 'I have no idea what the hell I'm doing' is the moment you are starting to do exactly what you should be. Obstacles are not deal breakers, they are a chance for re-calibration and to keep your eyes peeled for the sign that will lead you to your next destination. Impeded streams make the most beautiful music, especially when you have just come up for air after a ride down the waterfall.

On the 'wrong turn' portion of the photo safari, we discovered the Giles Flowage and we chose a route back to Bayfield that took us through it again so we could scout it out. Charlie and I got out to take a few last photos and I got my favorite shot of the day— Charlie capturing the sunlight on the water. Thank God for wrong turns, detours, kids with cameras and of course, yellow Labs.

A Seriously Good Caramelized Apple Bread Pudding

Bread pudding is a brilliant use of stale bread and when you add caramelized apples and a rum caramel sauce, it soars right by ordinary brilliant and heads straight into quantum brilliance. We're not a dessert family (could have something to do with the fact we rarely finish dinner before nine) but the stars aligned— we ate dinner at 7,  two stale baguettes were on top of the fridge and I had just picked up some apples from Blue Vista Farm. It was a huge hit and definitely worth eating an early dinner so we could have dessert.

Caramelizing the apples until they are a deep golden color really makes a difference, don't skip this step. It concentrates the apple flavors and helps them hold their own against the custard soaked bread cubes.

I've made this bread pudding about 10 times since the beginning of October (the kids really, really like it) and I've discovered a 50/50 mixture of artisan type bread and conventional white bread makes the best bread pudding. The artisan bread adds structure while the conventional bread holds it all together— kind of like coming up with the perfect blend of Syrah and Grenache. Too bad, blending stale bread cubes in Bayfield doesn't have the same cache as blending grapes in Provence!

Caramelized Apple Bread Pudding with a Rum Caramel Sauce

5 large tart apples (such as Jonagold or Honeycrisp)
3 tablespoons butter
3 tablespoons brown sugar
2 1/2 cups half and half
1 cup whole milk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
4 large eggs
1/2 cup dark brown sugar
1/2 cup maple syrup
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
1 teaspoon cinnamon 8 cups stale bread, cut into 1 inch cubes (1 cup reserved for the topping)
1/2 cup pecans, chopped
2 tablespoons butter, melted
1 tablespoon sugar
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon

Preparation
Preheat oven to 350 degrees and butter a 9 x 13 pan. Peel the apples and cut into 1 inch chunks. Melt 3 tablespoons of butter in a 12 inch skillet over medium high heat. Add the sugar and stir until the mixture bubbles, then toss in the apples to coat them. Let the apples sit, in a single layer if your pan is large enough, undisturbed for about a few minutes to sear the exterior and then flip them over and let them sit another minute. Repeat this process until the apples are caramelized and tender (about 10 minutes). Remove the apples and juices from the pan and set aside.

In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs, brown sugar, maple syrup, salt, cinnamon and nutmeg to combine. Add the half and half, milk and vanilla and combine thoroughly.

In a small bowl, combine the tablespoon of sugar with the 1/4 teaspoon of cinnamon.

Place 7 cups of the bread cubes in the large mixing bowl and toss to coat with the liquid. Let sit for about 45 minutes (tossing another couple of times) and then place the bread cubes in the buttered baking dish. Place the caramelized apples, their juices and chopped pecans over the bread. Scatter the remaining cup of bread cubes over the apples and press them to partially submerge in the custard. Brush the exposed bread cubes with the rest of the melted butter, and sprinkle evenly with the cinnamon sugar.

Bake for about 45 minutes or until the bread pudding is golden and a knife inserted into the middle of the bread pudding comes out clean. Remove the pudding from the oven and let cool for at least 30 minutes. Serve warm with caramel sauce (recipe follows) or vanilla ice cream.

Rum Caramel Sauce

6 tbsp butter
1/2 cup cream
1 cup light brown sugar
3 tbsp spiced rum

Place the butter, cream, rum and brown sugar in a saucepan, bring to a boil and then simmer for 2 – 3 minutes until slightly thickened. Pour over bread pudding and serve.

Wren Falls

Wren Falls is a pretty little waterfall way off the beaten track. We stumbled upon it on our way home from Foster Falls (thanks to my screwy sense of direction). It was a sweet end to a wrong turn.

I just discovered a series of HDR (or hipster, as Will refers to them) presets in Lightroom and I decided to experiment with them. I can't decide if they look overdone, like Dolly Parton, or richly textured, like Sean Connery. Anyway, now that I know where (and what) a preset is— the skies the limit for experimentation. My eye  tends to prefer a more natural look but we all need to put on a pair of heels and a little lipstick every now and then, right?

Roasted Butternut Squash & Goat Cheese Lasagna

I love everything about fall— the golden light, shorter days, cooler weather and the food, oh the food.  Provençal beef stew, roasted chickens, Indian curries, porchetta, bread puddings and lasagna. I've embraced homemade pasta and I have to admit, I enjoy making it. Yes, it's more work than dried pasta but there is something meditative about standing at the counter, rolling and cutting pasta. Forget yoga, I'll take my meditation with a side of lasagna.

Of course, I used Sassy Nanny goat cheese, it melted perfectly into the bechamel and the pecorino added a nice salty tang.

Bacon and caramelized onion rounded out the sauce and added an extra layer of layer that really complemented the rich sauce and roasted squash. Nothing but the best for my freshly made lasagna sheets.

Speaking of lasagna sheets, the transformation of a round piece of dough into a silky ribbon of pasta is magical. I pass the dough through the pasta roller eight  times— three times through #1 and then once through # 2 - # 5. I don't go beyond #5 because I like my pasta on the thick side. It's a matter of taste and if you like thin pasta, by all means go to #6 or even #8.

Another tricky part of the fresh pasta process is what do you do with the pasta after it's rolled out but before you are ready to cook it? I don't like to hang it— for some crazy reason, the dogs have a serious thing for fresh pasta and will spend the entire time attempting to leap and snag a mouthful of pasta while I'm busy rolling out the rest of the pasta. Necessity (or badly behaved dogs) being the mother of invention, I coated the sheets in flour and layered them on a sheet tray. One caveat— use lots of flour and dust the sheets evenly. There's nothing worse than a pile of fresh pasta stuck together in a giant mess....it'll make a grown woman weep.

I'm a firm believer in boiling pasta and lasagna noodles are no exception. The no-boil method, at least with fresh pasta, doesn't taste as good. I can taste the raw flour and I prefer the texture of noodles boiled for about a minute (if your sheets are thin, boil them for 30 seconds) prior to assembling the lasagna. An extra 10 minutes yields a superior pan of lasagna, trust me.

Roasted Butternut Squash & Goat Cheese Lasagna (adapted from Fine Cooking)

Lasagna Sheets
2 cups all-purpose flour
2 cups semolina flour (you can substitute all purpose flour if you don't have semolina)
4 large eggs
1 tsp kosher salt
3 tbsp olive oil
1/2 cup water

Lasagna Filling
1 large butternut squash (about 3 lb.), halved lengthwise and seeded
10 - 12 medium cloves garlic, unpeeled
2 sprigs fresh thyme plus 2 teaspoons chopped leaves
2 teaspoons extra-virgin olive oil
Kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1 cup bacon, cooked and chopped
1 large yellow onion, sliced
8 tablespoons butter
1/4 cup all-purpose flour
3 cups whole milk
1 1/2 cups fresh goat cheese
1 cup Pecorino Romano,  finely grated
1 cup Parmesan, grated

Pasta Preparation
Place all ingredients in the bowl except for the water. Turn the mixer on slowly and add 3 tablespoons of the water. Add more water, 1 tablespoon at a time, until the mixture comes together and forms a ball. Knead the dough on a lightly floured board to make sure it is well mixed. Set aside to rest for 30 minutes.

Generously flour your counter top or work area. Cut the dough into 6 pieces and cover with a towel (don’t cover the pasta with kitchen towels if you use a scented fabric softener because the pasta will pick up the scent—use parchment instead). With your hands, flatten and shape one piece of dough into a 1/2-inch-thick rectangle. Dust it lightly with flour and pass it through the widest setting on the pasta machine. If the dough comes out oddly shaped, reform into a rectangle. Fold it in thirds, like a letter, and if necessary, flatten to 1/2 inch thick. Pass it through the widest setting again with the seam of the letter perpendicular to the rollers. Repeat this folding and rolling step three or four times, dusting the dough with flour if it becomes sticky.

Without folding the dough, pass it through the next setting on the pasta machine. Keep reducing the space between the rollers after each pass, lightly dusting the pasta with flour on both sides each time ( I stop at # 5 on the KitchenAid pasta roller).

Generously dust both sides of the pasta sheet and lay on the floured sheet tray. Roll out the remaining dough in the same manner. Cut each strip of dough into 11-inch lengths.

Bring a 10-quart pot of well-salted (it should taste like sea water) water to a boil over high heat. Put a large bowl of ice water near the pot of boiling water. Line a rimmed baking sheet with sheets of parchment and have more parchment ready.

Put 3 or 4 noodles in the boiling water. Once the water returns to a boil, cook for about one minute. With a large wire skimmer, carefully transfer them to the ice water to stop the cooking. Repeat with the remaining noodles.

Drain the noodles and rinse under cold water. Spread them flat on the parchment-lined sheet tray, I layered them on top of each other and they didn't stick but if you are concerned about sticking,  layer the noodles between parchment and set aside until you’re ready to assemble the lasagna.

Lasagna Filling Preparation
Position a rack in the center of the oven and heat the oven to 425°F.

Put the squash cut side up on a large, heavy-duty rimmed baking sheet. Divide the garlic cloves and sprigs of thyme between the two halves and place in each cavity. Drizzle each half with 1 tsp. of the oil and then season each with 1/4 tsp. salt and a few grinds of pepper. Roast until the squash is browned in spots and very tender when pierced with a skewer, 45 to 50 minutes. Remove from the oven and let cool completely.

Discard the thyme sprigs. Peel the garlic and put in a large bowl. Scoop the squash flesh from the skins and add it to the garlic. Mash with a fork until smooth. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Melt 3 tablespoons of butter in a sauté pan over medium heat. Add onions and 2 teaspoons of thyme leaves, reduce heat to medium-low and cook until golden brown and caramelized, about 45 minutes. Set aside.

Melt 5 tablespoons of  butter in a 3-quart saucepan over medium heat. Add the flour and whisk until smooth and golden, about 2 minutes. Gradually whisk in the milk and cook, whisking occasionally, until thickened enough to coat the back of a spoon, about 15 minutes. Stir in the goat cheese, pecorino, 1 teaspoon salt, and a few grinds of pepper. Season to taste with more salt and pepper.

In a large bowl, add the cheese sauce, the squash/garlic mixture, crumbled bacon and caramelized onions. Stir to combine thoroughly and taste for seasoning.

Spread 1/2 cup of the squash/cheese sauce over the bottom of a 9x13 inch baking dish. Cover the sauce with a slightly overlapping layer of cooked noodles, cutting them as needed to fill any gaps. Spread 1 cup of the cheese/squash mixture evenly over the noodles and sprinkle with the shredded Parmesan. Add another layer of noodles and repeat the layers as instructed above, to make a total of 4 squash layers and 5 pasta layers. Spread the remaining cheese/squash sauce evenly over the top. Sprinkle with the remaining Parmesan cheese.

Heat oven to 350 degrees. Cover the baking dish with foil and bake for 40 minutes. Remove the foil and bake until the top is browned and bubbly, 15 to 20 minutes. Cool for at least 10 minutes before serving.

Make Ahead Instructions You can make the roasted squash mixture up to 1 day ahead of assembling the lasagna. You can assemble the lasagna up to 2 days ahead of baking it. Tightly wrap the baking dish in plastic and refrigerate it. Let the lasagna come to room temperature before baking it.

The World Beneath Our Feet

It's been a banner year for mushrooms and conditions were ripe for a fungi photo safari at Houghton Falls. Time flew as I spent my morning on my hands and knees amongst the inhabitants of the forest floor. It's good for the soul to spend a few hours bathed in wonderment—it's as easy as looking down.

In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.

J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit

 A safe fairyland is untrue to all worlds.

J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit

 There is nothing like looking, if you want to find something. You certainly usually find something, if you look, but it is not always quite the something you were after.

J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit

 I know. It's all wrong. By rights we shouldn't even be here. But we are. It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn't want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn't. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something.

J.R.R. Tolkien, The Two Towers

Yet such is oft the course of deeds that move the wheels of the world; small hands do them because they must, while the eyes of the great are elsewhere.

J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

There is more in you of good than you know, child of the kindly West. Some courage and some wisdom, blended in measure. If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.

J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit

There are no safe paths in this part of the world. Remember you are over the Edge of the Wild now, and in for all sorts of fun wherever you go.

J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit

He used often to say there was only one Road; that it was like a great river: its springs were at every doorstep, and every path was its tributary. 'It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door,' he used to say. 'You step into the Road, and if you don't keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to.

J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken, A light from the shadows shall spring; Renewed shall be blade that was broken, The crownless again shall be king.

J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

The Best Of Summer...In A Quiche

Nothing says summer like Corn Man corn and nothing says 'summer is over' than bags of his corn, freshly shucked, in my freezer and a kitchen full of tomatoes in various shades of green, yellow and red. Quiche is a quick and easy dinner option and since breakfast for dinner is a Dougherty family favorite, it was a no-brainer as I stared into the refrigerator, looking for inspiration. This quiche really shines with garden fresh tomatoes and sweet corn— although it won't be as good with grocery store tomatoes, it's still worth making. That corn cream is seriously good.

I've made lots of quiches over the years but this recipe had a technique I haven't used before, steeping the sweet corn in cream, and it was a revelation. The quiche is loaded with the essence of sweet corn without the kernels (you pass the cream/corn mixture through a fine mesh sieve and you end up with a seriously delicious corny cream). I added a few corn cobs to the cream and corn mixture to guarantee an intensely flavored custard. If you don't have any cobs, don't worry about it— the corn kernels will flavor the cream just fine on their own.

I used dried beans and parchment when I blind baked the crust— an important step if you like a flaky pastry home for your quiche.

The corn cream is out of this world delicious and it's the most beautiful color of light yellow.

I added pancetta and Gorgonzola to the original recipe— nothing like gilding the lily, right?

Tomato & Sweet Corn Quiche (adapted from FreshTartSteph & Minnesota Monthly September 10, 2013)

1 9-inch pie crust (I used Pillsbury pie crust from the grocery store)
2 teaspoons butter
3 ears peak-season sweet corn, shucked, kernels sliced off cob (about 2 1/2 cups)
3 - 6 corn cobs (optional)
1 cup whole milk
1 cup heavy cream
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
3 large eggs
1/2 cup Gorgonzola, crumbled
1/2 cup pancetta or bacon, cooked and crumbled
2 cups assorted garden-ripe tomatoes, cut into 1/2-inch slices 9-inch pie plate, nonstick cake pan, or fluted tart pan

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.

Roll out the crust and fit into baking pan. Trim and crimp the edges. Gently set a large piece of foil or parchment paper into and on top of the crust and fill with pie weights or dried beans. Bake crust for 15 minutes. Remove foil and pie weights and set crust aside while you prepare the filling.

In a sauté pan over medium heat, cook the pancetta or bacon until crisp. Remove from the pan and set aside.

In a Dutch oven, heat butter over medium heat. When butter is melted, stir in the corn. Saute the corn, stirring a couple of times, for 5 minutes. Stir the milk, cream and corn cobs into the corn. Bring the mixture to a boil, then turn heat to low and simmer corn for 20 minutes. Remove from the heat and discard the corn cobs.

Set out a colander placed over a medium bowl.

In the bowl of a blender, purée the corn and cream together (use caution when blending hot liquids). Pour the pureed corn and cream into the colander to strain out the cream. Press down on the corn to extract as much of the cream as possible. Discard the corn. Measure out and 1 1/2 c. of the cream and return it to the bowl.

Add salt, pepper and eggs to the corn cream and whisk to combine.

Sprinkle the pancetta and Gorgonzola over the bottom of crust. Pour egg mixture into crust, stopping 1/2-inch from top of crust. Arrange tomato slices over the top of the egg mixture. Bake quiche for 40-45 minutes, until edges of crust are golden brown and center of quiche is just-set. Cool on a wire rack for 15 minutes before serving warm.

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Flower Power

And still, after all this time, the Sun has never said to the Earth, "You owe me." Look what happens with love like that. It lights up the sky.

Rumi

Lost Creek Falls With M & M

“There are these two young fish swimming along and they happen to meet an older fish swimming the other way, who nods at them and says "Morning, boys. How's the water?" And the two young fish swim on for a bit, and then eventually one of them looks over at the other and goes "What the hell is water?".....

It is about the real value of a real education, which has almost nothing to do with knowledge, and everything to do with simple awareness; awareness of what is so real and essential, so hidden in plain sight all around us, all the time, that we have to keep reminding ourselves over and over:

This is water."

"This is water.”

David Foster Wallace, This Is Water

It snowed last night. Charlie was rejoicing, in the way only a snowboarding obsessed twelve-year-old can— with verve and volume. He was so disappointed when he woke up this morning and the snow had melted into the green grass. Thankfully, snow is on the menu for the next six months and Charlie will be bombing the hill in no time.

Last night, with the snow falling, I found these pictures in my Lightroom files and traveled back to this warm, sunny day in July. We hiked out to Lost Creek Falls with Mike and Mindy and these pictures are from that adventure. It was pretty amazing to have everyone together, in one place, for an afternoon and it made me so very happy to see Meg and Jack perched on rock, bathed in sunshine. Man, I miss that boy.

I'll never tire of sitting near, listening to or taking pictures of running water and waterfalls. They are the tether I grab when I need to find a way back to myself and towards, as Mary Oliver said, 'a silence where another voice may speak.'

Perched on a rock behind the waterfall, the 'awareness of what is so real and essential' settled into me like the water flowing over me. The lives we build with those we love are 'water', as essential as a heartbeat but easy to take for granted in the noise and busyness of life.

We spent a few hours in the company of Lost Creek, cedars, white and red pines, ancient rock and each other. It was about as good as it gets for an afternoon in July and I'll carry it with me until we all meet again among the trees and water at Lost Creek Falls.

Braised Pork Belly With An Asian Flair

Pork belly— it's not just for bacon. In fact, it's extremely well-suited to a nice long bath in Asian spices, an equally long braise in the oven, a pile of Jasmine rice and a spoonful of quick pickled cucumbers. I bought my pork belly in hopes of making pancetta but the 'cut a hole in one corner and hang it to dry for a week' part of Michael Ruhlman's recipe was a deal breaker. There is no place in my house where 6 pounds of pork, suspended 5 feet off the ground, would be safe from harm or ingestion by the dogs. George already knows how to open peanut butter jars, unzipper lunch sacks and speak Spanish— pork hanging from the ceiling would be a breeze for his extraordinary yellow Lab intellect. An Asian braise was the safest way to cook the meat and foil George's amazing knack for commandeering food for his dinner.

Braised Asian Pork Belly (Adapted from Emeril Lagasse 2006)

One full pork belly, about 8 - 10 pounds (you can substitute pork shoulder)
2 cups orange juice
1/2 cup pineapple juice
1 1/4 cup soy sauce
1 cup light brown sugar
1/8 cup fish sauce
1/2 cup lime juice, freshly squeezed
1/2 cup lemon juice, freshly squeezed
1/3 cup garlic, minced
1/4 cup ginger, minced
1/4 cup green onion, minced
1/4 cup plus 3 tbsp sambal oelek (chile paste)
4 cups chicken broth

Preparation
Day 1— Combine the orange juice, pineapple juice, soy sauce, fish sauce, brown sugar, lemon juice, lime juice, garlic, ginger, green onion and sambal oelek in a medium bowl and whisk to blend well. The pork belly will, most likely, be too large for your roasting pan so cut it in half and place it in a large (2 gallon size) plastic bag. Add the marinade to the plastic bag, squeeze all the air out and seal tightly. Place in the refrigerator overnight.

Day 2— Preheat the oven to 325 degrees. Remove the pork from the refrigerator and allow to sit at room temperature for an hour. Place the pork belly, fat side down, in a roasting pan, pour 3 cups of chicken broth and the marinade over and around the pork belly and place in oven. If your roasting pan is not wide enough to accommodate the pork bellies side by side, use two roasting pans and divide the chicken broth and marinade evenly between the pans.  Roast for an hour and then turn the pork belly over and roast for another 1 1/2 hours. Remove from the oven and allow to cool for an hour or so. Once cool enough to handle, cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight.

Day 3— Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Remove the pork from the refrigerator, uncover and skim off any congealed fat that rests on top of the cooking liquid. Add the remaining cup of chicken broth to the pan and place in the oven. Cook until the belly is slightly caramelized and warmed through, about 30 minutes. You can either shred it, as I did, or cut into slices and serve over rice with the pan juices.

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It Was A Glorious Summer

It's official, summer is over. Next week, our little town will be overrun by apple mad people, flooding Rittenhouse Avenue in the name of Applefest. When we were tourists and lived on our boat, Applefest weekend was always bittersweet— it signaled the official end to our Bayfield summers and the re-entry to city life without a big lake to frame our days. Now that we live here, Applefest still marks the end of summer but now we re-enter days with a slower cadence, longer, quieter nights, wood fires in the stove and those first, thrilling snowflakes. I have to admit, fall is my favorite time of year but summer sure is glorious. Thank God, she'll be back next year.

We had a picnic on Stockton Island— swimming, floating, jumping off the rocks, bratwurst and beer. Classic Wisconsin day.

Two boys, one dog and a bag of chips— it doesn't get much better than this.

Sadie is a champion tube rider and if you look closely, you'll see a grin the size of Texas on her face. I bet she'd hold her own in a rodeo— she knows how to hold on for dear life.

Seagulls and dogs are a mutually exclusive deal— Zeus arrived and the gulls departed.

Searching for beach glass.

Long Island Corn Dogs

What's better than a hot dog from the O'Dovero's? An O'Dovero hot dog dipped in batter, fried in a cast iron skillet and eaten on Long Island.  I'm a picky corn dog connoisseur (if there is such a designation) and the only corn dog worth eating is hand dipped in batter— trust me, I've done a fair amount of market research. I grew up in a family of devout Minnesota fair-goers and I earned my carnival food chops through good old-fashioned trial and error.

I fried the corn dogs at home, placed them in a foil and paper towel lined cooler and boarded the Karl for a boat ride to Long Island for cocktails and dinner on the beach. The corn dogs weren't quite as crispy as I would have liked but I have my limitations and frying corn dogs on a beach is one of them. They were gobbled up without complaint.

A little tree love on the beach.

My photo safari sidekick— I couldn't have asked for a better partner.

The back side of Long Island, facing Chequamegon Bay, bathed in evening sunlight.

Corn Dogs

(adapted from the Pioneer Woman)

6 cups Krusteaz pancake mix
2 cups yellow corn meal
2 whole eggs, slightly beaten
2 cups buttermilk 2 cups water, more if needed to thin batter
All beef, natural casing hot dogs ( I made 24 corn dogs and had plenty of batter left over) Chopsticks Canola Oil, For Frying

Preparation

In a large bowl, combine pancake mix and cornmeal. Stir to combine. Add eggs, buttermilk and water, adding more water as needed for the batter to become slightly thick (but not overly gloopy.) Start out by adding 2 cups, then work your way up to 4 cups or more.

Heat canola oil over medium-high heat. Drop in a bit of batter to see if it's ready: the batter should immediately start to sizzle but should not immediately brown/burn.

Insert sticks into hot dogs so that they're 2/3 of the way through.

Dip the hot dogs into the batter and allow excess to drip off for a couple of seconds. Carefully drop into the oil (stick and all) and use tongs or a spoon to make sure it doesn't hit the bottom of the pan and stick. Flip it here and there to ensure even browning, and remove it from the oil when the outside is deep golden brown, about 2 to 3 minutes.

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Walking The Siskiwit River

Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it.  The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time.  On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters.

Norman McLean, A River Runs Through It and Other Stories

There is nothing like following a river on foot. The sound of the water, the light dancing on the surface, the tree-lined bank and glimpses of the riverbed through the moving water are my touchstones.

A benevolent cedar keeping watch on the river bank.

An embrace in cedar.

Our version of a water park, lined with trees and rocks 'from the basement of time'.

Stones covered with water and sunlight.

Water moving over rock shaped by moving water.

The many faces of riverbed and water.

One of Ted's favorite movies is A River Runs Through It and we've watched it more times than I can count. Since I rarely sit through an entire movie, I've never seen the end, until a few weeks ago (see the clip here). McLean was right— eventually everything does merge into one and a river runs through it. I am blessed to have found my river.

A Riff On Gyros

I owe it all to Julie. She made these flavor packed lamb burgers (according to Saveur, they were supposed to be kebabs but there were major implementation problems) earlier in the summer and I was blown away— it was as close as I've been to a gryo-esque dinner for years. I realize my tendency to use superlatives might make you a little suspect (I mean, how can everything be fantastic) but seriously, these burgers are out of this world. If you make a little naan (recipe here), a bowl of tzatziki (recipe here) and sauté some red onions with sumac— you'll have a dinner you won't soon forget. Opa!

Ground Lamb, Bulgur & Pistachio Burgers(Adapted from Saveur Magazine, June 2013)

1/2 cup pistachios, shelled
1/4 cup water
1/4 cup oregano, roughly chopped
1/4 cup mint, roughly chopped
1 teaspoon red chile flakes
1/2 teaspoon allspice
6 cloves garlic, peeled
2 green onions, roughly chopped
1/2 small yellow onion, roughly chopped
1 jalapeño, stemmed, seeded and roughly chopped
1 pound ground lamb
1/4 cup finely ground bulgur, soaked in warm water for 10 minutes and then drained
1 red onion, sliced
2 teaspoons sumac
2 tablespoons olive oil
Salt and pepper, to taste

Preparation
Puree the pistachios and 1/4 cup of water in a food processor until very smooth. Add the oregano, mint, chile flakes, allspice, garlic, green onions, onion and jalapeño and pulse until smooth. Transfer to a bowl. Add lamb, bulgur, salt and pepper and, using your hands, mix until combined. Form into patties, cover and place in refrigerator for about an hour to set up.

Heat a sauté pan, over medium heat, and add the olive oil, red onion and sumac. Sauté until the onion is softened, about 10 minutes. Set aside.

Light a charcoal or gas grill and grill the burgers, flipping once or twice, until they are thoroughly cooked— about 12 - 15 minutes. Serve on the naan with sautéed onions and tzatziki.

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A Long Island Farewell

It's not every day Jack moves to Madison to start his next chapter as a freshman Badger and such a momentous occasion begged for a stellar party. Shrimp boils are a Dougherty family favorite and have enough 'wow' factor to send Jack off to Madison with a little Bayfield flair. We loaded up the Karl with shrimp, green beans, a bucket of spices, potatoes and beer and headed to Long Island on a perfect August afternoon to celebrate the kid who, for nineteen years, has brought so much joy, pride, laughter and love into our lives.

We couldn't have asked for a better afternoon— no bugs, a sun-soaked beach, warm water, dear friends and a boiling kettle of spiced water, shrimp and Corn Man corn. It's hard to put into words what it felt like, knowing that in seven days we would be driving Jack to Madison and leaving him there, in a dorm with 6,000 other freshman. It was the kind of joy with a sharp edge, that made me catch my breath and blink back tears because I understood, for the first time, what bittersweet really meant. Jack was taking his first steps towards independence and away from us but the tapestry we've woven together from nights like these will always be his connection to home and the people who love him.

One of our friends, Teddy, wrote Jack a poem and gave him Edward Abbey's wise words for a happy life. As I watched Jack shake Teddy's hand, I knew everything was exactly as it should be. Jack was ready to move on, I was ready to let him go and we've been blessed with a lifetime of gratitude— for our family, friends, countless memorable dinners and the Lake and beaches that are the backdrop to our story.

'One final paragraph of advice: do not burn yourselves out. Be as I am - a reluctant enthusiast....a part-time crusader, a half-hearted fanatic. Save the other half of yourselves and your lives for pleasure and adventure. It is not enough to fight for the land; it is even more important to enjoy it. While you can. While it’s still here. So get out there and hunt and fish and mess around with your friends, ramble out yonder and explore the forests, climb the mountains, bag the peaks, run the rivers, breathe deep of that yet sweet and lucid air, sit quietly for a while and contemplate the precious stillness, the lovely, mysterious, and awesome space. Enjoy yourselves, keep your brain in your head and your head firmly attached to the body, the body active and alive, and I promise you this much; I promise you this one sweet victory over our enemies, over those desk-bound men and women with their hearts in a safe deposit box, and their eyes hypnotized by desk calculators. I promise you this; You will outlive the bastards.' Edward Abbey

It is always a thrill when the shrimp boil hits the table— it's sheer abundance of color and texture is amazing. It literally put a smile on everyone's face and it only got better as they ate their way through the pile of corn, shrimp, potatoes and green beans.

As the night wound down and the full moon rose over the South Channel, I took a minute to take it all in. I knew we'd be on this beach again but it would be different next time. I wanted to remember every last moment of it— Charlie's face when the boil hit the table, Jack filling up a Corona bottle with sand to take to Madison, Meghan triumphantly hoisting the paddle over head when she saw me on the beach and Will walking down the beach, camera in hand, to catch the sunset. On that August night, it was about as good as it gets and I couldn't have been happier.

I didn't want the night to end. Like all good parties, time flies when you're having fun and before we knew it, the sun had set, the boats were loaded and we were on our way back to Bayfield. Until Kathy had a brilliant idea— a moonlight swim in the South Channel. We stopped the boats, jumped into the water and spent ten minutes swimming under the luminescent moon. It was the perfect end to a perfect night.

An Abbot's Table & A Dandelion Addiction

I walked in to Bayfield Wine and Spirits to buy a nice bottle of wine to celebrate the end of summer and the beginning of the school year (always a good idea to celebrate anything with wine). The minute my eyeballs spied the Abbot's Table from Owen Roe, I was definitely in a celebratory mood. It's a field blend of Zinfandel, Sangiovese, Blaufrankisch, Merlot and Malbec— medium bodied. lots of berries and a little spice and cedar. It was a lovely wine and perfect for the pizza I planned for dinner.

Pizza is always a good idea at our house— the kids prefer a more traditional approach while I like to shake things up a little. Michael, of Sassy Nanny fame, shares a cheese factory with an equally talented cheese maker, Fred Faye, and the Dandelion Addiction makes me so very happy. Happy Hollow Creamery makes a variety of sheep and cow cheeses and I'm a big fan of all of them. The Dandelion Addiction is a nice, mild brie without a hint of ammonia to be found, anywhere. It's hard to wrong when you take a good brie, sliced pear, caramelized onion and a reduced sherry glaze but it was a seriously good pizza.

Brie, Caramelized Onion & Pear Pizza

Pizza dough, use your own recipe or my recipe, here Crème fraiche, enough to coat the bottom of the pizza dough, about 1/3 cup 1 wheel of Dandelion Addiction brie (or your favorite brie), sliced into wedges 1 garlic clove, minced 1/2 cup caramelized onion 1 pear, sliced thin 2 tablespoons sherry vinegar glaze (available here) Maldon sea salt

Preparation Preheat oven to 500 degrees and place your pizza stone on the middle rack (a pizza stone makes all the difference, trust me). Make the pizza dough and stretch out into a 12 inch round. Sprinkle a pizza peel with flour or cornmeal and place the pizza dough on top. Coat the pizza dough with crème fraiche and sprinkle, evenly, the garlic and Maldon sea salt on top. Evenly place the brie wedges, pear slices and caramelized onions over the pizza round and then drizzle the sherry reduction over the pizza. Place in the oven and bake for 10 minutes. Let the pizza cool slightly and then slice and serve.