Southern AND Sustainable?!

I first heard of Dan Barber's book The Third Plate on NPR the other day. The fact that Southern food was singled out as the only truly sustainable American way of farming and eating was exciting. No, not the Foodtopia and epicenter of sustainable everything in the Pacific Northwest. Yes, The South. I have yet to see Hoppin' John on a menu west of the Mississippi.

In the American South, it was beans, collards and some ham. "In a dish, you had everything that supported that ecology," he says.

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A view of Dan Barber's Stone Barns Center field and barns in Pocantico Hills, N.Y.

Nicole Franzen/Courtesy of Blue Hill Farm

But American tradition has fallen out of touch with the land. "There's no cuisine you can point to that has a 12-ounce center cut protein for dinner. ... That is an American phenomenon," Barber says

From an article in The Atlantic, I read Dan Barber's explanation of how farm-to-table practices in America aren't enough to be truly sustainable. The only place within the United States that has actually had a cuisine that fit the ecology of place was in the South.

That meat-centric plate is a great disservice to our soil, and to our ecology. It’s also a disservice to the rest of the world—because we’re exporting that model in a way that, in the truest sense of the word, is unsustainable. But we can find an alternative—what I came to call the Third Plate.

You find that in Southern cuisine, too. Hoppin’ John—a quintessential southern dish—is rice, but it’s also cowpeas. That leguminous crop was so important in the south, because it allowed the southerners to preserve their soil well enough to get them rice. Then, they mixed in collard greens, because collards helped desalinate the soil. (And some bacon, because pigs were also part of the agriculture.)

Last weekend I read a review of the book in the WSJ in Eugenia Bone's article "The Future of American Eating." Of course, it being a newspaper based in New York (damn Yankees), it doesn't mention this Southern connection. But what he does mention relates to my life in wine country. In the first of four sections in the book, "Soil"

Explores how some farming practices deplete the soil of nutrients by killing microbes and how others build healthy soil by feeding microbes. He compares industrial versus organic approaches to weed control and explains the role of grazing animals in soil health. 'How soil is managed,' writes Mr. Barber, 'and how a farmer negotiates weeds and pests, is the single best predictor of how food will taste.'

I've recently started a new job at Omero Cellar's in Carlton, Oregon, and I interviewed our new winemaker, Mr. Chad Stock about his winemaking philosophy in order to write a press release. What he said deeply related to what Mr. Barber is saying.

Stock explains that transparent winemaking, “allows wines to speak for themselves in a pure and true fashion. Pinot noir is all about nuance and it’s extremely adept at showing the subtleties of place.  Personal style preferences and winemaking additives blur the natural expression of the vineyard.“

Organic, and more importantly, biodynamic principles are important to Stock and the trajectory of Omero wines. He clarifies the joint importance of farming organically and implementing biodynamic principles in the vineyard and winery: “A vineyard is above and below the earth, so we want to farm the soil. We seek to show the significance in soil types and express the soil differences in the Willamette Valley. I’ll show you what your vineyard tastes like.”

By working without additives, using organic and biodynamic principles, Stock and Omero seek to create wines with distinctive character, authenticity and aromatic complexity.

While I am relatively new to the biodynamic farming and winemaking philosophy, I'm really eager to learn more. Like the John Muir quote that originally inspired Barber,  I find that everything is connected, from ideas to dirt:

When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the universe.

Drinking Like Our Founding Fathers

I'm a little behind the times in documenting yet another cross over between my Southern roots and my Pacific Northwest presence in wine country. Turns out Southerners, including our Founding Fathers, liked vintages such as Sherry and Madeira.

At a recent blind wine tasting, Madeira was on the menu. I brought my trust copy of Garden & Gun from October-November 2013. This edition included the article, "Southern Vintage: Making the case for Madeira, Dixie's original drink" by Jonathan Miles. 

Just the introduction sucks a good Southerner in:

Not until distillers in Kentucky and Tennessee perfected the process did the link between the South and whiskey—especially bourbon—take hold. No, the South's original drink—the first beverage that pro to-Southerners embraced as their own, and the first to become associated with the region—was a wine (yeah, a wine) that you may never have tasted (but should, immediately): Madeira.

The qualifying parentheses and italics is spot on. I can just hear Southern family and friends clamoring the absurdity of claiming that a wine is a Southern drink.  Just another reason I love this magazine. It urges you to read on and be convinced or repulsed.

Unlike, say, red table wine, Madeira tastes refreshing in the tropical heat, and doesn't suffer from sweltering storage. Mitchell credits the wine's high levels of acidity and sugar for that refreshing quality, which might also explain its affinity to the Southern palate—acidity and sugar, of course being the defining characteristics of the later blockbuster Southern drink, cola.

But we all know Mr. Miles is referring to Coca-Cola. According to Bufford Calloway, that's Sweet Dixie Champagne.

Back in February at the wine tasting I attended, we tasted seven different Madeiras, including two of the three mentioned in the G&G article. Not surprisingly, we missed the $150 bottle suggested from 1971. Even with the wholesale price tag, that's too spendy for a weekly meeting. The Broadbent 10-Year Malmsey and Historic Series Savannah Verdelho were all around favorites, however. Good suggestions G&G! Not only that, but I may have upped your readership in the Pacific Northwest.

How do you stand the rainy winter months?

Gorgeous Oregon, but kind of Mordor

It's not the rain it's the darkness. That's what I always tell folks who ask me about the hardest part of Oregon's winter. Even if we had a full day of sunshine, the shortest day of the year in Portland, Oregon, is a almost an hour and a quarter shorter than Charleston, South Carolina.

Having just returned from a week in the Lowcountry, I'm more cognizant of this than ever. Having an entire week of longer days at the darkest time of the year is one of the best parts of traveling east for the holidays.

I recently read an article from Garden and Gun magazine about an artist— Fireworks: Betsy Eby's blowtorched canvases evoke the rhythm and flow of nature. As I'm always looking for connections between The South and The Pacific Northwest, I was delighted to read that Eby hails from Oregon and now lives in Columbus, Georgia. She's quoted in the article as saying, "The difference in the light is so extreme from the Pacific Northwest…It's so abundant and warm here. There's more information in the light…Being in the South allows me to split those hairs of color."

I can't say that I wholly agree with her assessment about there being more information in the light, but I can agree to the extremes in differences. Both entice me to wonder at the nuances of nature and revel in the joys of color and form of the great outdoors.

Lowcountry winter light

Oregon in winter time is muted, brooding and mysterious. Some days it can feel as if time stands still. There's no apparent difference between eleven AM and four PM. It's easy to forget oneself in the muffled, indistinct light. Because the day only lasts about 8 hours in the winter, this light is precious and indoor lighting, colors and spaces perhaps have more detail and attention paid than in The South.


The scarcity of light and the vicissitudes of the sky make me more attuned to the light in Oregon. I love watching the weather patterns shift atop one of the highest hills in Oregon wine country, just outside Dundee. Recently in the winter months, I've emerged from a sea of fog and cloud to see a dazzling blue bird sky. I can later watch little tufts of cloud skirting across the tree line and hovering over the vineyards. The tasting room can be totally shrouded in a thin layer of cloud, only to have the blazing bright sun illuminate it from behind. It's as if an alien spaceship has set its sights on us. It feels as if we're about to be beamed into a wormhole to another dimension. I've never seen light like that.

I think I can appreciate the light in The South so much more now after living in the Pacific Northwest. Perhaps that's what Eby is trying to say. But she's a native Oregonian living in Georgia, and I grew up in Georgia and am living in Oregon.  It's not the rain; it's the light.

Southern Courtesy

You catch more fruit flies with honey.

It's fruit fly season in the Willamette Valley. We get so many visitors into the two winery tasting rooms (Domaine Serene and Amity Vineyards) from all over the state, country and world. I can always count on my Southern folks to be polite, courteous and convivial. I rarely feel as if I'm "serving" them; instead, I feel as if I'm welcoming friends into my own home and we're catching up on old times. That's not to say folks from other areas of the country or world aren't the same way; it's just to say I can depend on them to always be positive interactions.

I can count on them to say "please" and "thank you." I can count on them to treat me like a human being and not like a wine-pouring automaton. I can count on Southerners to gush about Oregon's beauty and what a spectacular trip they're having. Even when I know they didn't particularly like a wine, I count on Southerners to sing the praises of the wines they DO like. The worst I've heard is, "Oh, that one's not my favorite." Read Guy Martin's explanation on how to Mind Your Manners in the "Southern Handbook" from Garden and Gun Magazine.

I can also count on Southerners to tell (and listen) to good stories. They talk to me and include me in their conversations as I pour their Pinot Noir. Usually by the time they leave, they know a few of my choice yarns and I know some of theirs. Read Roy Blunt Jr.s account of how to tell a good story from the same Handbook

I salute you Southern courtesy and company!

Oxford, Part I: Put Some South in Your Mouth!

The first weekend in April brought exciting fodder for the Southeast in the Pacific Northwest blog, so much so that I have difficulty in pruning down the events for a single blog post. 

One of my oldest friends, and co-Portland inhabitant married her Alabama-born fiancé in a pastoral setting outside of Oxford, Mississippi. The wedding congregants consisted of largely three groups: Portland family (with some overlapping Georgia folks), an Athens, Alabama family and an Atlanta, Georgia contingency. The mixture was fabulous, and an affirmation, in my mind, that certain elements of The South and The Pacific Northwest dovetail nicely together.

For me, the two main themes were Blues City Cafe's Motto, "Put Some South in Your Mouth!" and William Faulkner's line, "Nothing ever happens and is finished." So this first post will address the culinary delights we put in our mouth

Let me first make plain, that I have never been to Oxford. I associate it mainly with Faulkner's writing and a 2008 article from Garden and Gun magazine. It has been, for some time, a place I wanted to visit. To get to Oxford, the Portland contingency had to fly to Memphis and rent a car for the hour and half drive. Our Portland party consisted of two Georgia affiliated, two Nebraskans, and two Californians. We all shared a penchant for good food and drink and discovering a quality sense of place. 

Our first stop? Beale Street and some lunch. After finding our way from the airport, we were all struck by how wintry it looked. It seems Portland, way up in the Pacific Northwest was much further along the spring trek than the heart of dixie. Who knew? We were also struck by the bleakness of the city. Memphis has seen some hard times.

Ghost River Golden Ale

I was the only person who had been to Memphis, and while we consulted our iPhones and networks, we ended up going to Blues City Cafe (rather than BB King's Restaurant & Blues Club across the street; I had been there in 2002) based on the awesome sign that told us to put some South in our mouth. Done.

Portland Family in Memphis

The six of us shared some delicious ribs, coleslaw and baked beans. Two of us opted for a local brew called the Ghost River Golden Ale.  What do you know, they tout that great water makes great beer. Exactly what we say in PDX. They also say think global, drink local. I love these guys.

We threw back the last drops of golden nectar, gnawed on the remnants of cow bones and hopped in our rental mini-van. Oxford, onward! One thing we were warned about: Mississippi does not sell cold beer, and we should pick up some before crossing the border. Even to me, a native southerner, alcohol regulations are a mystery to me. Why? Why can't an American buy cold beer in MS? I mean, it's unAmerican. In any event, I thought there would be all kinds of crazy carnival signs proclaiming, "Buy Cold Beer Here!" as we approached the border. Like firework shops on the border between Georgia and South Carolina. Alas, I was wrong. We seriously thought we were going to get shot, mugged or worse in our search for cold beer.

Eventually we picked up a 12 pack of Budweiser and got the heck out of there. No Ghost River Ale to be found. Colt 45, yes. Craft brew, no.  Ok, Oxford, onward!

The Garden & Gun article I referred to early, states that, "The Square of Oxford is studded with good bars and restaurants like jewels in a crown, and you can have big fun and great meals without ever leaving it." Too true. We didn't stray far from our VRBO which was just a few blocks away from the crown.

We ate at four locations on the Square: Soulshine Pizza Factory, Proud Larry's, Boure`, and City Grocery. All had their credits and debits.

Soulshine Pizza Factory

Credits include excellent and competent service to a large and unwieldy party. A huge bonus for me was access to Magic Hat #9 on tap. Oh delicious beer that was my favorite at Charlotte's very own Philosopher's Stone Tavern. It's very difficult to find on tap on the west coast. Impossible really. We had wide array of foods, including a variety of nachos, pizzas and salads. Sorry Soulshine, if your salad comes from a bag that includes iceberg lettuce, dehydrated carrots and purple cabbage, I cannot condone you as a food place.

Proud Larry's

We were another large party of 8 or so, so we missed out on the delightful outdoor seating. It was sunny outside and the Portlanders were tucked away in a little corner. I had my doubts about the food, but it ended up being delicious. I had a roast beef po' boy and bites of lobster nachos. Unbelievable. Thumbs up. Service was a bit slow and I'm not sure there was vodka in my Bloody Mary. That's nothing to be proud of, Larry.

Boure`

That's pronounced Boo-Ray for those of you who don't know. It evoked an appropriate nickname for a certain To Kill a Mocking Bird character for me. To be fair, we were catered here with tapas style food and drink. All were to my liking. The porch and atmosphere of this spot were killer.

City Grocery

City Grocery

Now this spot has a reputation. Written up in Garden and Gun, extolled by my brother and on the "to eat list" of every Portlander visiting that weekend: I knew I had to go here. We made lunch reservations and examined the menu so we could eat and run. We had a wedding to get to. Pricy, yes, but aren't all haut cuisine spots? Kudos to the wine list and affordable pricing. I had a Sauvignon Blanc for $5.50. Eat that Portland. The Waldorf Salad, on the other hand, was 8 bucks and was the size of a fruit cup. I had the shrimp and grits, which were delicious as was the cornbread. But I paid for it. Looking around at others' selections, I was not impressed by the cost per portion ratio. I'm not even that big of an eater, but it was kind of ridiculous. So over all, I would recommend this spot, but I might also recommend having heavy appetizers before I go.

Chick-fil-A

So I didn't eat here this trip. I took a run to Faulkner's home, Rowan Oak (to be mentioned later). However, I was a bit envious to miss those delicious waffle fries, polynesian sauce and fried chicken laced with pickle juice. Boo hoo.

Woodson Ridge Farms - Chef Elizabeth Heiskell 

Woodson Ridge Kitchen

The wedding was amazing, beautiful and poignant. The setting, the father's toast, and the dinner created a lasting impression. I felt quite lucky to be immeshed in such a quintessential Mississippi moment. Shrimp, grits, fried green tomatoes and some delicious Brussel sprout salad. The addition of St. Innocent and Oregon Pinot Noir did help. A delightful blending of Pacific Northwest in the Southeast.

Oregon Pinot Noir on a Mississippi Farm