Roasted pheasant stuffed with wild rice served with pomegranate and persimmon sauce makes a flavorful winter dish.
Filet Mignon of Salmon with Marionberry Catsup – “Filet Mignon” conjures up visions of a lean and tender cut of prime beef either simply grilled or lavishly dressed up with extravagant accoutrement such as fois gras, mushrooms, truffles and rich sauces like Tournedos Rossini. However they appear, they are special. Some years back, American menus started offering “Surf and Turf” – entrées loaded with meat and seafood for hungry diners who wanted to strap on the old feedbag, or so to speak. I never cared for such hedonistic platters but I do love the idea of bringing surf to the table dressed up like turf. Besides, just try to find a suitable wine for both red meat and seafood.
On cold and wet days, nothing warms you up like a bowl of creamy leak and potato soup. Plus, it’s hearty enough to eat as a dinner with a small salad to go along with it. Just make sure you have some good sourdough bread to go along with your soup as you’ll want to sop up all that creamy liquid.
I play with the sauce first by taking a modest taste on my fork, then twirl a bit of potato in it and let that play around in my mouth. I finish with a crumb of bread before piercing the egg to begin the slow flow of the yolk, giving the sauce its final caress. It’s moments like this that make you look over the table and quietly ask your dining partner, “How was it for you?”
I have been pondering writing an article on “cooking with intention” for The Taste of Oregon for some time now. For those of us who enjoy cooking passionately, is it always entered into and experienced with a feeling of joy and excitement? Where is our mind? Nothing can spoil a pleasurable experience more than chatter between our ears, nagging us: “You didn’t start early enough, you don’t have all the ingredients, you’re out of your league, no one will like this, pickled pork is so passé,” etc., etc., etc. Fortunately, I learned some methods for silencing that chatter. After a brief “negotiation” with my mind’s voice I hear it whimpering, “OK, you win, I’ll shut up.”