Will's Penokee Photo Safari

Sadie's Penokee Photo Safari

A Photo Safari In The Penokee Foothills

A Ritual To Read To Each Other

If you don't know the kind of person I am
and I don't know the kind of person you are
a pattern that others made may prevail in the world
and following the wrong god home we may miss our star.

For there is many a small betrayal in the mind,
a shrug that lets the fragile sequence break
sending with shouts the horrible errors of childhood
storming out to play through the broken dyke.

And as elephants parade holding each elephant's tail,
but if one wanders the circus won't find the park,
I call it cruel and maybe the root of all cruelty
to know what occurs but not recognize the fact.

And so I appeal to a voice, to something shadowy,
a remote important region in all who talk:
though we could fool each other, we should consider--
lest the parade of our mutual life get lost in the dark.

For it is important that awake people be awake,
or a breaking line may discourage them back to sleep;
the signals we give--yes or no, or maybe--
should be clear: the darkness around us is deep. 

William Stafford

The last stanza in William Stafford's poem resonates with me now more than ever— awake people need to be awake because the darkness around us is deep. We went to the Penokees this weekend for our photo safari because I knew standing among all those beautiful trees and ancient rocks would be a balm for my frazzled mind. Walker signed SB1 into law today and while it most likely will be tied up in litigation for years, mining in the Penokees is a very real threat to the ecosystem of the Bad River Watershed and Lake Superior. As I started down the path to Copper Falls, I asked the trees, rocks, moss and water to show me what to capture with my camera. They spoke loud and clear— there is so much life in the forest if you slow enough to see it.

I found another raven in wood, this time in a pile of snow, not on the beach (see the beach picture here). When I caught sight of him, I knew our photo safari in the Penokee foothills was going to be an afternoon to remember.

Sadie and Will had the entire Sunday free (which hasn't happened for months) and I was so excited to spend a couple of uninterrupted hours with two of my favorite photographers. I was curious to see what would capture their attention as we walked along the trail (you can see Sadie's photos here and Will's photos here). Will, Sadie and I spent the hour drive to Mellen talking about why the mining legislation is bad, why we need to be good stewards of our environment and what happens to society when we lose touch with the Divine and worship the almighty dollar instead. I know, with every fiber of my being, that my kids 'get it' because of their access to the natural world. The only way to appreciate something is to experience it. I doubt any of the men and women who voted for SB1/AB1 know what's it's like to stand on the shore of the Lake, listen to the roar of Copper Falls or look for clues to a tree's identity in the shape of a branch or a whorl in the bark.

Bark has endless iterations of texture, color and movement— it's almost like the bark is a testament to the tree's experiences.

The afternoon flew by— Sadie's feet were cold, Will was hungry and I knew if we encountered one more set of ice-covered stairs, I would go mad or fall flat on my face. We hiked back to the car and found a perfect little snowman on the hood. The kids swear they didn't put it there so I'm sticking with my original story— the forest spirits gave us a happy snowman as our parting gift. It was truly a beautiful afternoon.

Wines Worth Seeking Out

2010 Lee Family Farm Rio Tinto

I had no idea what I was in for with this bottle but since it was from the folks at Morgan Vineyard in California, I figured it would work out okay. Okay, indeed— this is a really interesting bottle of wine for about $15.00. Made from traditional Port varieties: Touriga Nacional, Touriga Francesca and Alvarelhao, it's loaded with cherry, red currant and spice flavors. It's round on the palate with good mouth feel, nicely honed tannins and lingering fruit flavors. It's a fruit bomb that shows some restraint, I'm glad I took a chance and poured a glass.

2008 Domaine les Pallières Gigondas Terrasse du Diable

The word Gigondas (jhee gohn dahs) makes me so happy, I feel très français every time it rolls off my tongue (and the wine isn't too bad, either). It's a Southern Rhone blend of Grenache, Mourvedre and Clairette. The Brunier brothers, of Vieux Telegraphe fame, and Kermit Lynch bought Les Pallieres in 1998 and the vineyard, operating since the 15th century, is producing some lovely wine.  It's a deep red in the glass with aromas of red berries, dried fig and pepper. It's definitely full-bodied with a vibrant mineral quality and lively acidity. While it was a good bottle of wine now, I'm keeping my last bottle in the cellar (okay, my basement behind the mountain range of clothes) for a couple of years. I know it's going to knock my socks off with a few more years under its belt.

Locations By Dave Phinney F1 Proprietary Red Blend France

When I read Dave Phinney, the mastermind behind The Prisoner and Saldo, had a new wine venture— I knew I had to get my hands on a few bottles. He had an epiphany at an airport— why not make a wine showcasing the best grapes each country has to offer and label the bottle with the country code bumper sticker? He's a smart guy and a brilliant winemaker. This bottle is a blend of Roussillon Grenache, Rhone Syrah and a few Bordeaux varieties (like Cabernet Franc). It's a solid, fruit forward bottle of wine with nice spice, soft tannins and a little oak. Not too terribly complex but it's an easy drinking wine with a nice, clean finish. For about $16.00, you can't go wrong and I suspect you'll be pleased when you take your first sip.

2010 Tons de Duorum Red Blend

Made from a blend of Touriga Franca, Touriga Nacional and Tinta Roriz (like the Lee Family Farm Rio Tinto), this wine is from the Douro region of Portugal. There are lots of fresh aromas of strawberries, raspberries, blackberries, and prunes off-set by well-balanced acidity and soft and ripe tannins. Port-like in its rich fruit, this is a young and vibrant wine, full of red berries and sweet tannins. It's a very well made wine for $15.00 and one I'm going to have around the house on a regular basis.

2008 The Mariner Dry Creek Vineyard

This is a splurge wine and it's worth every penny. It's a very dark ruby color with ripe and dried berry, currant, cedar and tobacco notes right out of the bottle. The blend of Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Petit Verdot, Malbec and Cabernet Franc translates to an elegant and seamless experience on the palate with a core of juicy black fruit, chocolate, black plums, cassis, black and red cherry, black tea, vanilla and spice. The tannins are smooth and polished, providing wonderful structure and balance in the wine. Wine Spectator decided this wine deserved 91 points and I have to agree, it's that good.

A Dog Sledding & Skijoring Photo Safari

Last week was one for the record books— goat midwifery, Jack's first solo dog sledding run and skijoring. A beautiful, sunny, warm-ish March afternoon spent with some of my favorite people (and dogs) in the world was about as good as it gets.

Okay, I have to admit I have a favorite sled dog— Vader, the lead dog and enforcer of orderly behavior (as he defines it). He's nearly as photogenic as George and Viv and certainly more useful in the 'working dog' department. I met Vader two years ago at Good Thyme— Julie and Charly brought the dogs to the restaurant for a dog sledding field trip for Meghan and Caroline's class. I barely knew Julie, let alone a pack of what seemed to me to be feral, wild sled dogs but as I watched them pull the kids around, I fell in love with their smiling faces. It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship and an introduction to a bunch of honest dogs.

I wasn't exactly sure what a skijoring/photo safari entailed but I knew a bunch of handsome Siberians would make for some seriously awesome pictures. The pictures did not disappoint, the Honest Dog kennel is such a handsome crew.

There were some good-looking humans as well. Jackson isn't the biggest fan of having his picture taken and I'm completely baffled how I captured his beautiful smile. I think he was distracted by lobbing snowballs at Sadie and Gina. He's such a good kid.

They all came racing back with smiling faces (dogs and humans, alike).

Jack and Bisoux— a perfect match.

Jack took off towards the kennel and we headed back to Bayfield. It was definitely an afternoon for the record books and another reason I thank my lucky stars I ended up in Bayfield with the greatest group of friends and dogs a girl could hope for. Julie and Jill, bloggers extraordinaire, wrote about the afternoon as well— check it out: Honest Dog and Garlic Pig.

Asian Meatballs

Asian meatballs— another stop on the meatball extravaganza happening at the Dougherty's this winter. After I made the Indian meatballs (recipe here), I realized I could make a meatball for every kind of cuisine and since I literally crave Thai and Asian flavors, the Asian meatball was a logical next step in my journey. The brilliant thing about meatballs is their freezeability (not sure that's a word). I make a double or triple batch and freeze them for the nights when I don't feel like cooking but want something decent for dinner. These are more than decent, they're delicious.

Asian Meatballs with a Ginger Soy Sauce

Sauce Ingredients
1 cup brown sugar
1 cup water
1/2 cup regular soy sauce
1/2 cup mushroom soy sauce (substitute regular soy sauce if you don't have the mushroom soy)
1/2 cup hoisin
1/4 cup rice vinegar
1/4 cup sweetened black vinegar
1/4 cup chile garlic sauce
1/4 cup oyster sauce
1/4 cup ginger, peeled and chopped

Meatball Ingredients
1/3 pound ground turkey
1/3 pound ground pork
1/3 pound ground chicken
3/4 cup bread crumbs
1/4 cup milk
4 green onion, thinly sliced
1 cup cilantro, chopped
1 egg, lightly beaten
2 tbsp toasted sesame oil
2 tbsp oyster sauce
2 tbsp ginger, minced
2 garlic cloves, minced
Freshly ground pepper
Vegetable oil for frying

Sauce Preparation
Bring sugar and water to a boil in a medium saucepan over medium-high heat, stirring until the sugar dissolves completely. Reduce heat to medium-low and add both soy sauces, rice vinegar, black vinegar, chile garlic, hoisin, oyster sauce and ginger. Simmer, stirring occasionally, until reduced by half, 30 minutes or so. Set aside.

Meatball Preparation
In a small bowl, add the breadcrumbs and milk, stir to combine and let sit for 5 minutes, or until the milk is absorbed. Mix turkey, pork and chicken together until thoroughly combined. Add the milk soaked breadcrumbs, green onions, cilantro, egg, sesame oil, ginger, garlic, oyster sauce and pepper to the meat mixture. Roll the mixture into balls and set aside.

Heat the vegetable oil (enough to cover the bottom of the pan) in a skillet over medium-high heat. Working in batches, place meatballs in the pan and cook until browned all over and cooked thoroughly, about 8 - 10 minutes per batch. Serve with white rice and spoon a little sauce over each meatball. Serve immediately.

A Sassy Nanny Birthing Day

'Two goats working on it. Come when you can if you want to witness a birth!'. It's not every day I get a text like that and I wasn't about to miss my chance to experience the miracle of birth as a spectator, not an active participant. I have eaten pounds of Michael's goat cheese and even taken pictures at his farm (read about it here) but I've never attended the birth of baby goats (or anything else for that matter). I grabbed a bottle of champagne (to celebrate the little ones), Tom Kha Gai soup for lunch and bones for Zuzu and Rex, jumped in the car and went off to my very first goat midwifery experience.

You'd think a woman who delivered five 10 pound babies would be an old hand at the birth game, not true. I took one look at the two girls, Lena and Donatella, getting ready to usher their little ones into the world and felt like Prissy in Gone With The Wind when she said, 'Lawdy, Miss Scarlett, I'se don't know nothin' 'bout birthin babies'. Thank God, Michael knows a whole lot about birthing babies and he delivered each one with a sense of hard-won, calm competence. Watching the babies enter this world and literally come to life in front of my eyes filled me with a sense of wonder I haven't felt since I met my own babies for the first time all those years ago.

As we were waiting for Donatella's second boy to arrive, her first decided to stretch his legs and stand up. Michael said he was one of the biggest babies he's seen and he was easily double the size of Lena's boy. He was only about 45 minutes old when he took his first unsteady steps towards Mama— a Herculean feat and so incredibly tender at the same time. It was nothing short of miraculous, witnessing the beginning of four new lives in Michael's barn.

Lena's last baby, a girl, entered this world with a nearly showstopping manuever; she had her head tucked under her back leg which caused a tremendous amount of chaos. Michael tried to grab ahold of her legs but she was good and stuck. I started to get a little panicked but he kept his cool, methodically working to free her head. Time seemed to stand still while Michael tried to get her straightened out (it probably was no more than 3 or 4 minutes) and we all breathed a sigh of relief when the little Miss lifted her head and looked around.

I walked outside to gather myself after the last baby was born. It was an intense afternoon for a woman who up to this point had a) fainted at the sight of blood and b) hated the smell of amniotic fluid— not the most logical choice for a birthing day companion. I stood outside in the sunlight and looked around at all the life Michael has ushered into the world and the lyrics from a 10,000 Maniacs song popped in my head. It was the perfect theme song for a beautiful afternoon spent with a good friend and his goats.

These Are Days10,000 Maniacs

These are the days These are days you’ll remember Never before and never since, I promise Will the whole world be warm as this And as you feel it, You’ll know it’s true That you are blessed and lucky It’s true that you Are touched by something That will grow and bloom in you

These are days that you’ll remember When May is rushing over you With desire to be part of the miracles You see in every hour You’ll know it’s true That you are blessed and lucky It’s true that you are touched By something that will grow and bloom in you

These are days These are the days you might fill With laughter until you break These days you might feel A shaft of light Make its way across your face And when you do Then you’ll know how it was meant to be See the signs and know their meaning It's true Then you’ll know how it was meant to be Hear the signs and know they’re speaking To you, to you

Jennifer's Eggs, Hollandaise & Crab Cakes

When Jennifer showed up in my kitchen with fresh eggs, not only was it a good day at the Dougherty's, it meant hollandaise which also meant crab cakes. I have to admit, we've become egg connoisseurs around here. The kids will ask if we have any 'fresh eggs' because they don't like the way grocery store eggs taste. I remember when they wouldn't eat eggs, let alone have high standards for said eggs— I've made a lot of progress in the past five years. One thing I haven't made much progress with, until now, is poached eggs. For some reason, it was an utter disaster every time I tried to make a proper poached egg. The yolks were rock hard, assuming they were still intact. Most of the time, the egg decided to give up and flop into a heap of white and yolk. I read if I swirled the water while dropping the egg into the water it would keep the whites together. No dice, it created watery scrambled eggs.

Imagine my joy when another friend, Chris, told me about the Poach Pods at Sweet Sailing. My poach-less egg days were over. These things work like a charm, every time without fail. As long as you oil the inside before you drop an egg into it and keep the water at a simmer, you can have perfectly poached eggs whenever your heart desires. I can't get over the things I've checked off my to-do list in the past year: mandarin pancakes, pie crust, naan, pork pot stickers and now, poached eggs. What's next? A timpano from The Big Night?? I think so, I'll let you know how it goes.

Crab Cakes

1/4 cup Hellman's mayonnaise
1/4 cup onion, minced
2 eggs, lightly beaten
1/2 tsp Worcestershire sauce
1/2 tsp dry mustard (I used Coleman's)
1 1/4 tsp Old Bay seasoning
1/4 tsp cayenne pepper
1 pound lump crabmeat, picked over and rinsed
1 1/2 cups fine bread crumbs
2 tbsp butter
1/4 cup vegetable oil

Preparation
In a large bowl, combine the mayonnaise, onion, eggs, Worcestershire sauce, dry mustard, Old Bay and cayenne. Fold in the crabmeat and 1 cup of the bread crumbs. If the mixture seems too wet to mold into cakes, add more bread crumbs in 1/4 cup increments— it should hold its shape after it's molded but not be too dry. Shape the mixture into 12 cakes about 1 inch thick. Coat the crab cakes with the remaining bread crumbs and transfer to a platter, lined with parchment if the cakes seem sticky.

In a large skillet, heat 1 tablespoon of butter in 2 tablespoons of the oil. Add the crab cakes to the pan, being careful not to crowd them, and cook over medium heat until golden and crisp (about 3 minutes per side). Drain the crab cakes on paper towels, place in a warm oven and cook the remaining crab cakes. Add 1 tablespoon and 2 tablespoons of oil for each new batch of crab cakes. Serve with poached eggs and hollandaise sauce (recipe here).

Naan- My New Favorite Thing

I've made peace with my rolling-pin and the world is my oyster. Okay, maybe not my oyster but definitely my pie crust, savory shortbread or naan. I planned a Moroccan meal, chicken b'stilla and all, but a crucial piece was missing— flat bread. If I still lived in St Paul, I would have hopped in my car, driven to Uptown and bought a couple of bags of fresh pita from Bill's Imports and secured the final component of my Moroccan feast. Four hours is too long to drive for pita so I looked up a recipe for naan, grabbed my rolling-pin and I made the final component for my Moroccan dinner. Necessity is the mother of invention, or in this case, bread making.

It was way, way easier than I thought. The dough can get sticky (with the egg and yogurt) so make sure you have extra flour on hand when you roll it out. Other than that, you can free form the naan into whatever shape strikes your fancy, throw it on the grill pan, cover it and within 5 minutes, you have the best piece of warm flat bread just waiting to be eaten. Good things happen when you overcome your fear of rolling pins, I'm living proof.

Indian Naan(Adapted from The New York Times & Bukhara Grill)

2 1/2 tsp dry yeast
2 tbsp sugar
1 1/4 cup warm water
5 cups all-purpose flour, more for dusting and rolling
2 tsp salt
1 tsp baking powder
3 tbsp whole milk
2 tbsp plain Greek yogurt
1 large egg, lightly beaten
2 tbsp vegetable oil, more for the bowl
3 tbsp butter, melted
2 cloves garlic, minced

Dough Preparation
Place the sugar, yeast, and 1/4 cup warm water (110 to 115 °F) in a small bowl and let sit 5 to 10 minutes until it becomes foamy. Put the flour, salt, and baking powder in a food processor fitted with a dough blade or a mixer bowl with the dough hook and blend. Pour the yeast mixture, milk, yogurt, egg, 2 tablespoons of vegetable oil, and 1 1/4 cup warm water into the bowl and knead until the dough forms a ball that is smooth and elastic (about 2-3 minutes in a processor or 5-8 minutes in a stand mixer). The dough should be soft without being sticky. If it’s sticky, add more flour. Put the dough in a lightly-oiled large bowl. Turn the dough around to coat oil on all sides and then cover the bowl with plastic wrap and let it sit in a warm, draft-free place for about an hour. Punch down the dough and cut it into 8 pieces. Roll them into balls and set on a floured baking sheet. Cover with damp kitchen towel and let rise until doubled in size (about another hour).

Cook The Naan: Melt the butter in a small saucepan, add the garlic and set aside. Roll the dough balls out on a floured work surface into a disk about 6 inches in diameter. Stretch one end to make an oblong teardrop shape. Repeat with remaining dough and cover with a damp cloth. Place your cast iron grill pan on the stove and heat over medium high heat. Lightly oil the grill pan. Place dough on grill pan and cover with the lid of a pan large enough to encompass the entire piece of naan. Grill until the bottom is browned and the top starts to puff and blister, 1 to 2 minutes. Flip the naan over and grill, covered, until it's lightly browned, another 1 to 2 minutes. Brush the top with the garlic butter. Serve immediately or cool completely, cover and use within a couple of days.

Pho- Seriously Good Soup

Pho, a little word for a big, flavor bomb of a soup filled with noodles, beef, dried spices, fresh herbs and a healthy dose of hoisin and Sriracha sauce. I've never actually eaten Pho in a Vietnamese restaurant but I've heard epic tales from Ted, a self-professed Pho aficionado. He and his friend, Rick, used to travel the length and breadth of the Twin Cities, in search of the best bowl of Pho they could get their hands on. I'm not sure what all the criteria (or their credentials) were but I do know a restaurant with bullet holes in the wall was awarded extra points. So, when I set out to make a batch, I knew I had an in-house expert to guide me to my own personal best bowl of Pho.

The broth takes a little while to come together (don't skip the par-boil for the bones, it'll make for a much clearer broth) but after I micro-managed the broth and skimmed away most of the impurities (about 30 minutes of standing at the stove and skimming), it was a breeze. Since I stock up at the Asian grocery store when I'm back in Minneapolis, I had a bag of fresh noodles in the refrigerator but dried noodles will work just as well. After a couple attempts at Pho greatness, Ted gave me the thumbs up and said I 'nailed it'. Pretty high praise from a guy who devoted a couple of years on University Avenue and Cedar Riverside looking for the perfect bowl of soup.

Vietnamese Pho Noodle Soup

The Broth
2 onions, halved
4" nub of ginger, halved lengthwise
5-6 lbs of good beef bones, preferably leg and knuckle
6 quarts of water
1 cinnamon stick
1 tbsp coriander seeds
1 tbsp fennel seeds
4 whole star anise
1 cardamom pod
6 whole cloves
1 1/2 tbsp kosher salt
1/4 cup fish sauce
1 inch chunk of yellow rock sugar (10 ounces regular sugar)

The Good Stuff for the Bowls
2 lbs rice noodles (I used fresh)
1/2 lb flank steak, sliced as thin as possible
1/2 cup mint, chopped
1/2 cup cilantro, chopped
1/2 cup basil, chopped
1/2 cup green onions, thinly sliced
2 limes, cut into wedges
2-3 chili peppers, sliced
2 cups bean sprouts Hoisin sauce ( I like Lee Kum Kee)
Sriracha hot sauce

Broth Preparation
Turn your broiler on high and move rack to the highest spot. Place ginger and onions on baking sheet. Brush just a bit of cooking oil on the cut side of each. Broil on high until ginger and onions begin to char. Turn over and continue to char. This should take a total of 10-15 minutes.

While the ginger and onion are in the oven, fill large pot (12-qt capacity) with cool water. Boil water, and then add the bones, keeping the heat on high. Boil vigorously for 10 minutes. Drain, rinse the bones and rinse out the pot. Refill pot with bones and 6 qts of cool water. Bring to boil over high heat and lower to simmer. Using a ladle or a fine mesh strainer, remove any scum that rises to the top. ***This is an important step, don't skip it.

Add the cinnamon stick, coriander, fennel, star anise, cardamom pod and cloves to a mesh bag and tie close (I bought a reusable tea bag at the Co-op) charred ginger and onion, sugar, fish sauce, salt and simmer uncovered for 3 - 4 hours. Strain broth and return the broth to the pot. Taste broth and adjust seasoning - this is a crucial step. If the broth's flavor doesn't quite shine yet, add 2 teaspoons more of fish sauce, large pinch of salt and a small nugget of rock sugar (or 1 teaspoon of regular sugar).  If the spices are too strong, add plain beef broth ( homemade or canned) to dilute the soup. Keep doing this until the broth tastes perfect.

Noodle and Meat Preparation
Slice your flank steak as thin as possible - try freezing for 15 minutes prior to slicing to make it easier. Arrange all other ingredients on a platter for the table. Your guests will "assemble" their own bowls. Follow the directions on your package of noodles— each brand is different. After the noodles are cooked, rinse thoroughly in cold water (this will keep them from sticking).

Adding the Good Stuff to the Bowls
Bring your broth back to a boil. Fill each bowl with rice noodles and raw meat slices. As soon as the broth comes back to a boil, ladle into each bowl. the hot broth will cook your raw beef slices. Serve immediately. Guests can garnish their own bowls as they wish.

Sweet George & A Full Moon

The Sweetness of Dogs (Fifteen) Mary Oliver

What do you say, Percy? I am thinking
of sitting out on the sand to watch
the moon rise. It’s full tonight.
So we go

and the moon rises, so beautiful it
makes me shudder, makes me think about
time and space, makes me take
measure of myself: one iota
pondering heaven. Thus we sit, myself

thinking how grateful I am for the moon’s
perfect beauty and also, oh! how rich
it is to love the world. Percy, meanwhile,
leans against me and gazes up
into my face. As though I were just as wonderful
as the perfect moon.

We Booked It Across The Bay

I can add another event with a 'K' in it to my résumé— this time it was a 10K ski 'race' across the bay between Ashland and Washburn. We were new to the whole 'booking it across the bay' event and I was excited for all of it (I had a bottle of champagne and a container of gorgonzola crackers cued up for a mid-ski snack) until I heard there was a bus ride involved. To say I'm not a fan of small spaces filled with people would be an enormous understatement and the added component of skis everywhere in the small space was enough to send me skiing back to Bayfield. I tried to suck it up and keep my claustrophobia in check but as we got closer to Washburn, doubt started to creep in my anxious little brain (it didn't help I managed to get the car stuck in a snow bank trying to park...I'm not the best driver).

As luck would have it, we were walking down the street to queue up for the dreaded bus ride and the most spectacular thing happened— an empty bus pulls up alongside of us and the bus driver asked if we wanted to get on (before the other 200 or so people in line). We answered with a resounding 'hell yeah', Jack and I grabbed the front seat (near the door) and away we went, not a hint of claustrophobia to be found. It was shaping up to be the best night of skiing across the lake, ever.

Of course, there were puppets at the start— a wolf and a polar bear. A little bit of whimsy before we set off on our epic night ski across the lake.

There were a lot of people at the start and we made sure to stay in the back. I think the fastest person finished in 23 minutes, our crew finished somewhere around the 3 hour mark. Not too shabby for a group of inexperienced Dougherty skiers and a 6-year-old Jackson. We were so far in the back, I'm not sure how the start of the race was announced but we made our way to the lake about 6:05 and started our trek towards the first rest stop.

There were quite a few people in the back with us. In fact, there were quite a few people everywhere— 3500 skiers, snowshoers and walkers signed up to book across the bay. It was a beautiful start— the sky was lit up with the remnants of sunlight, the moon and stars were just starting to reveal themselves and the seemingly unending line of twinkling luminaries spread out in front of us.

There were rest stops every kilometer with water, cookies, apple cider (adult and kid flavored) and bonfires to warm our getting colder by the minute fingers, faces and bodies. It was really cold out— about zero degree by the time we crossed the finish line.

One of the rest stops had a bonfire and a fire breathing dragon— it was seriously impressive.

We finished with smiles on our faces, frost in our hair and lots of good memories of our first book across the bay.

Mussels Bathed In Thai Red Curry

I was a frequent Thai food take-out customer when we lived in St. Paul— Ruam Mit Thai  had some of the best Thai I've ever eaten. However, Ruam Mit doesn't have a Bayfield satellite and I needed to develop some Thai cooking skills. Our friend, Rich, was our very first dinner guest when we bought our house in Bayfield six years ago and he brought all the ingredients and made the dinner. As frequent visitors to my kitchen will attest, I'm a little territorial about my space near the stove but Rich is welcome anytime. He taught me how to make Thai food and I'll love him forever for sharing his recipe for Thai red curry with me. I still have the original recipe he copied for me before he left to go back to Minneapolis— as you can see from the picture, it's seen a lot of action in my kitchen.

I met Rich's wife, Tammy, on the dock when I was 8 months pregnant with Charlie. I looked across the marina and saw an equally pregnant woman walking down C dock and knew I needed to introduce myself— hugely pregnant women in a marina are about as rare as Piping Plovers on Long Island. I'm so glad I waddled over to meet her— it turned out Rich grew up three or four houses away from Ted, our kids went to the same pediatrician and our babies were due within 2 weeks of each other. Over the years, we spent many weekends out in the islands and even made the trek across the Lake to Grand Marias a couple of times. We always ate well on our adventures and dinner at Naviya's Thai Kitchen was an integral part of the meal planning process. So when Rich showed up at my door in Bayfield with the fixings for a grand Thai dinner, I was thrilled. Thai food, Grand Marais and the Jamieson's— beautiful and delicious memories.

Thai Red Curry Mussels (Adapted from Madhur Jaffrey's Far Eastern Cookery)

1 3/4 cups coconut milk
1 sweet potato, peeled and diced into 1 inch cubes
2 pounds mussels, debearded and scrubbed
1 stalk lemongrass, crushed
3 tbsp shallot, minced
2 tbsp galangal, chopped
1 tbsp garlic, minced
1/2 tsp salt
4 tbsp vegetable oil
4 tbsp red curry paste ( I use Mae Ploy)
1 1/2 tbsp fish sauce
1 tsp brown sugar
4 fresh kaffir lime leaves ( I buy a bunch of them at the Asian market in Minneapolis and freeze them)
10 fresh sweet basil leaves, julienned
1/4 cup cilantro, chopped

Preparation
Skim off 4 tablespoons of the thick cream of the coconut milk and set it aside. Stir the rest of the coconut milk to mix. Place the diced sweet potatoes, lemongrass, shallot, galangal, kaffir lime leaves, garlic and coconut milk in a saucepan, heat over medium heat and braise until the sweet potato is softened (about 10 - 15 minutes). Remove from heat and set aside.

Put the oil and reserved coconut cream in a heavy wok or wide heavy pan. Bring it to a boil. Add the curry paste and stir and fry over medium high heat until the oil separates and the paste is lightly browned. Lower the heat and add the fish sauce and sugar. Stir to mix. Add the sweet potato/coconut milk mixture and bring to a simmer. Add the mussels, cover and steam until the mussels open (discard any mussels that do not open). Stir in the basil and cilantro and serve immediately over steamed jasmine rice.

The Best Beer In The World

I'm a fan, a really big fan, of wine but my beer knowledge is pretty limited. I tend to categorize beer by color (light brown, medium brown and dark brown) and we named our Newfie Guinness because he was black and stout— that's the sum total of my beer knowledge. So when my friend showed up with the 'best beer in the world', I was suspicious. I did what any good non-beer drinker would do when the 'best beer in the world' was sitting on the kitchen counter, I googled it. Turns out, he was right. According to Huffington Post, 'Westvleteren XII is produced by Trappist monks at the abbey of Saint Sixtus in the Belgian countryside, and only available  for purchase through hard-to-get reservations. The beer's sudden appearance in the States is a financial necessity for the abbey -- after a round of expensive renovations, the monks decided to sell the beer outside the monastery for one time only'.

After doing a kitchen renovation a couple of years ago, I completely understand coming in over budget and needing to raise some extra cash. Those Trappist monks are lucky to have some expensive beer ($84.99 for a six-pack and 2 glasses) to feather their newly renovated nest and I was lucky to get a taste of a pretty spectacular beer. Can I say it's the best in the world? I'm not sure what the criteria is for such a lofty title but I can say it was nicely balanced with prominent notes of chocolate, dried fruits, spice and molasses. Maybe the monks will decide to renovate the rest of the Abbey in 2013 and I'll get a chance at honing my beer tasting skills on another bottle of Westvleteren. I'll keep you posted.

Who Needs A Little Huli Huli??

It's finally warming up. We've been in the deep freeze for the last couple weeks and 25 degrees above zero is my version of a heat wave in February. And that means grilling some huli huli chicken and pineapple for dinner. Lighting the grill with snowflakes drifting downward seems kind of counterintuitive but it's a nice reminder of all the summer nights to come. Who couldn't use a little luau and huli huli in the middle of winter?

Huli Huli Chicken (Adapted from The Best Of America's Test Kitchen 2010)

Brine & Chicken
3 quarts water
1 cup orange juice
1 cup pineapple juice
1 1/3 cup soy sauce
3/4 cup kosher salt
2 cups brown sugar
6 cloves garlic, peeled and smashed
2 medium yellow onions, peeled and quartered
2 tbsp red pepper flakes 2 whole chickens, quartered

Glaze
2 1/4 cups pineapple juice
1/4 cup packed brown sugar
1/4 cup soy sauce
1/4 cup ketchup
1/4 cup rice vinegar
4 garlic cloves, minced
2 tbsp fresh ginger, minced
2 tsp Asian chili-garlic sauce

Brine Preparation
In a large stockpot, add the water, sugar and salt. Heat until the sugar and salt is melted and then cool completely. Once the water/sugar/salt mixture is cool, add the remaining ingredients, including the chicken, to a very large container, place in refrigerator for at least 4 hours and up to 8 hours.

Glaze Preparation
Combine the pineapple juice, sugar, soy sauce, ketchup, vinegar, garlic, ginger and chili-garlic sauce in an empty saucepan and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to medium and simmer until thick and syrupy (you should have about 1 cup) 20 to 25 minutes. The sauce can be refrigerated in an airtight container for up to 3 days.

Grilling The Chicken
Prepare a charcoal grill and heat until hot. Remove the chicken from the brine and pat dry. Arrange the chicken, skin-side up, on the grill and grill, covered, until the chicken is well browned and the thickest part of the thigh registers 120 degrees, 25 to 30 minutes. Flip the chicken skin-side down and continue to grill, covered, until the skin is well browned and crisp, about another 20 minutes. Transfer the chicken to a platter, brush with half the glaze, and let rest for 5 minutes. Serve, passing the remaining glaze at the table.

The Many Faces At The Sled Dog Races

Julie and Caroline raced in the Apostle Islands Sled Dog Race this year and I was the official dog petter/photographer of the Buckles/Ray team (read all about it here). Talk about an expressive bunch of dogs— it was a brilliant way to spend a few hours on a beautiful winter afternoon.

This guy was resting up before the race— talk about calm, cool and collected.

Bisoux was the picture of composure (until she got her harness on).

I wish I knew this guy's name— he stole my heart.

Pronce— striking a pose.

Holstein in a very, very rare moment of quiet contemplation.

Bisoux is one loving girl with a serious side of bad ass— don't cross her.

Juliette, the one eyed, geriatric husky, kept up with the young-uns with a smile on her face— pure Husky bliss.

Fragile

If I ever had questions about the fragility of life, the past couple weeks put them to rest, for good. The first little 'ping' came two weeks ago when Will and I went for our Sunday photo safari. I woke up that morning with the phrase, 'the last places are worth saving'  in my head and we set out to find a few photos of those last places. It's not difficult to find showstopping photos up here and within an hour, we were cold and headed home. On our way towards Bayfield, we saw two eagles being chased by a single crow right after we left the beach. One of the eagles had 'dinner' in his talons and Will and I were amazed at the chutzpah of that single crow. He was one wrong move away from becoming dinner himself. I couldn't stop wondering why a crow would be going up against two large eagles— was he too lazy to find his own dinner or was there a bigger message in the tableau Will and I were witnessing?

Of course, I thought it was symbolic of the David and Goliath mining battle playing out in the Penokees. Talk about fragile, the mine would pollute the Bad River watershed and subsequently Lake Superior.  That kind of cause and effect is easy to understand— the bad guys pollute the water and the good guys lose everything. But what happens when it's not as clear and bad things happen anyway?

Within the past week, two eagles have died from lead poisoning (I'm not sure if they were the two eagles I saw with Will). The eagles, and other animals, eat gutpiles from deer carcasses and if the deer are killed with lead bullets, the gut piles are contaminated. To be fair, I'm not entirely sure the eagles died from scavenging lead contaminated deer carcasses but it drives home the message that everything is connected and something as benign, and even seemingly responsible, as leaving the gutpile from a harvested deer to feed eagles, coyotes, and whatever else is hungry can lead to unintended but deadly consequences.

I used to see an eagle in a tree at the mouth of the Sioux River and every time I drove over the bridge, I looked towards the lake to see if he was perched on the top branch. I haven't seen him since the news of the lead poisoning came out and I'm afraid he's gone. The sight of that eagle in the tree became a touchstone for me and I felt blessed every time I saw him. It's heavy when you realize every step, decision and movement you make has consequences, seen or unseen, and to plow blindly forward is not only selfish but irresponsible. It can feel immobilizing, the awareness of our woven destiny with everything that surrounds us. But what happens when the weave supports and sustains us?

Jim Hudson died last week and we are still reeling. Losing a man as loved and respected as Jim sent shock waves through every corner of our little town and I was reminded, again, of how we are all woven into the same tapestry. As I watched the horrible story unfold, I started to notice the support that was swelling to help Hannah, Jim's wife, after his passing. I also noticed the stories and testimonies about Jim and the legacy he left behind. He was tremendously loved, in Bayfield and beyond.

I think the first time I met Jim, he had George in the back of his police car (George had a fierce wanderlust in his early years) and with his characteristic smile, he dropped George off, swapped some fishing tips with Ted and went on his way. Over the years, I've gotten to know Jim and Hannah better and their generosity of spirit was remarkable. I remember the first time Hannah complimented Will on his photography, he was thrilled and I doubt he'll ever forget his first compliment from a professional photographer. That's just one example of how she fostered an environment where a 13-year-old boy could feel like a giant, I know there are many, many more. Talk about paying it forward, she has an overflowing account of good will, love and support coming her way.

All life is fragile and the delicate balance of our choices and their consequences can be overwhelming. From taking a stand for the Lake, eagles and other wildlife, to living your life in alignment with your deepest and most dearly held convictions, these are the threads that bind us together. There are bound to be losses that bring us to our knees but the tapestry we've built with our words, actions and lives will support us until we can walk on, towards what's next.

A bit of advice Given to a young Native American At the time of his initiation: As you go the way of life, You will see a great chasm.  Jump. It is not as wide as you think.

Joseph Campbell

A Greek Hotdish- It's What For Dinner

This recipe goes way back in the Dougherty dinner history book, back to 2078 St Clair Ave with a temperamental electric oven and the neighbor who liked to eat dinner in his underwear (we had a front row seat because our houses were about 3 feet apart). Those were the days before I had much cooking experience and a package of phyllo was enough to give me hives. I remember reading the directions and almost jumping ship when I read, 'keep the phyllo covered with a damp towel to keep it from drying out'. I quickly figured out there is a distinct and important difference between 'damp' and 'wet'— a dripping towel and phyllo sheets resulted in a sticky mess. Since I already had the feta and spinach, I wasn't about to let my lack of attention to details ruin my Greek hot dish. I loaded Sadie and Will in the stroller, hiked down to Widmer's, bought more phyllo and with my 'damp' towel, started assembling my masterpiece.

I honestly don't remember how it turned out, that oven was troublesome and had more hotspots than a Labrador with food allergies, and I can't imagine what it would have done to phyllo. Of course, back in those days with three kids under 6, it's no wonder my memory is a little foggy. I'm sure it was a hit because it made the regular dinner rotation. I had some phyllo in danger of major freezer burn and some Sassy Nanny Feta in the fridge— it was time for a trip down memory lane with a Greek hot dish (without the neighbor in his undies).

Beef, Spinach & Feta Casserole

Beef Filling
1 tbsp. canola oil
1/2yellow onion, finely chopped
1/2 red bell pepper, cored, seeded, and finely chopped
3 stalks of celery, chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 pound ground beef
One 28 can of chopped tomatoes, in purée
2 tbsp fresh oregano, chopped
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste

Spinach & Feta Filling
Two 10 ounce packages of frozen spinach, thawed
1 package of cream cheese, softened
1 cup feta, crumbled
1/2 cup Parmesan, shredded
1/4 cup dill, chopped
1/4 cup green onions, sliced
3 eggs, lightly beaten
Kosher salt and pepper to taste
1/4 cup butter, melted
12 sheets phyllo dough

Beef Preparation
Heat oil in 12″ skillet over medium-high heat. Add onion, pepper, celery and garlic, cook until soft, about 6 minutes. Add beef and cook until browned, stirring so that the meat breaks up into small pieces, about 8 minutes. Add tomatoes. oregano, salt and pepper and cook, stirring occasionally, until reduced and thick, about 10 minutes. Set aside.

Spinach & Feta Preparation And Casserole Assembly
Squeeze as much moisture from the thawed spinach. Mix the spinach, cream cheese, feta, Parmesan, dill, green onions, eggs, salt and pepper in a large bowl. Brush the bottom of a 13 x 9 inch baking pan with olive oil or cooking spray. Add the beef mixture to the pan and then place the spinach mixture on top. Spread the spinach mixture as evenly as possible over the beef mixture.

Keep the phyllo covered with a damp towel. Brush the top of a sheet of phyllo dough with butter and place it in the pan. (You may have to cut the phyllo dough to fit the pan.) Repeat until you have 6 layers. Take the remaining 6 pieces of phyllo, butter them and then fold them up 'accordion style' and place them next to each other on top the phyllo.

Bake in a preheated 350 degree oven until golden brown on top, about 30-50 minutes. Let it sit for about 10 minutes and then serve immediately.

The Last Places Are Worth Saving

“The good life of any river may depend on the perception of its music; and the preservation of some music to perceive.” Aldo Leopold

'All ethics so far evolved rest upon a single premise: that the individual is a member of a community of interdependent parts. His instincts prompt him to compete for his place in that community, but his ethics prompt him also to co-operate (perhaps in order that there may be a place to compete for).

The land ethic simply enlarges the boundaries of the community to include soils, waters, plants, and animals, or collectively: the land.

This sounds simple: do we not already sing our love for and obligation to the land of the free and the home of the brave? Yes, but just what and whom do we love? Certainly not the soil, which we are sending helter-skelter downriver. Certainly not the waters, which we assume have no function except to turn turbines, float barges, and carry off sewage. Certainly not the plants, of which we exterminate whole communities without batting an eye. Certainly not the animals, of which we have already extirpated many of the largest and most beautiful species. A land ethic of course cannot prevent the alteration, management, and use of these 'resources,' but it does affirm their right to continued existence, and, at least in spots, their continued existence in a natural state.' Aldo Leopold A Sand County Almanac

I'm lucky to live in one of the world's 'last places', a place still relatively untouched by expansion and extraction. While a stand of old growth pines are a rarity due to logging and fisheries in Bayfield aren't shipping 12,000 barrels of whitefish and trout a year like they were in 1881; Lake Superior is still crystal clear and cold, white and red pines poke their heads up over the forest canopy and I can see every single star in the night sky. These are worth saving.

There are complicated issues facing Lake Superior— GTac, a company based in Florida, wants to build an open-pit (4.5 miles long, 1.5 miles wide and up 1,000 feet deep) taconite mine in the Penokee Mountains, six miles from the Bad River Reservation and Lake Superior. Twenty three creeks, streams and rivers flow directly into the Bad River Reservation, specifically the Kakagon Slough, and then into Lake Superior from the mine site. Sulfides, a by-product of mining, will flow directly downstream— decimating the wild rice beds, killing fish and polluting 10 percent of the world's fresh water. Sounds like a no-brainer— who would want to pollute one of the most beautiful places on Earth? The complications arise from the real and pressing problem of poverty and unemployment. A promise (valid or not) of 700 'good paying' jobs are a Siren's song to people who are looking for relief from financial distress. However, the question remains— what is our legacy to the people, animals and trees who come after us?

'For unnumbered centuries of human history the wilderness has given way. The priority of industry has become dogma. Are we as yet sufficiently enlightened to realize that we must now challenge that dogma, or do without our wilderness? Do we realize that industry, which has been our good servant, might make a poor master? Let no man expect that one lone government bureau is able—even tho it be willing—to thrash out this question alone.

....Our remnants of wilderness will yield bigger values to the nation's character and health than they will to its pocketbook, and to destroy them will be to admit that the latter are the only values that interest us.' Aldo Leopold 'A Plea For Wilderness Hunting Grounds' The Best of Outdoor Life: One Hundred Years of Classic Stories

When I was 8 or 9, my Mom, Bridget, Tom and I took an Amtrak train to Duluth, it was a big deal. We met my Dad at the Radisson and had dinner in the rotating restaurant on the top floor. As the harbor came into view, I remember seeing the lake stretch out for miles and was awestruck. That dinner in a slowly spinning restaurant was the start of my lifelong love affair with Lake Superior, a Midwestern inland ocean.

The lake has been a backdrop to so many of our family stories: Ted asked me to marry him on the Moccasin Mike Road beach, I slept in a tent for the first time on that same beach, Jack had his first pickle on the patio at Sir Ben's, a canoe ride north of Two Harbors inspired our purchase of Isle of Skye, we saw our first moose in Washington Harbor on Isle Royale, we saw caribou in the Slate Islands, the kids jumped off cliffs on Devil's Island, we walked up to the top of Mt Ashwabay on my birthday, I swam with Guinness, our Newfie, in Julian Bay, spent countless days on the beaches of Long Island, driving on the ice road, with all the windows down, to Madeline Island, my first sauna on Spain Island near Loon Harbor, the list literally goes on and on. At the end of my time here, I'll leave behind my children and the memories we've made together. Legacy is all we have and our family legacy is forever intertwined with Lake Superior and her shores.

I met literally hundreds of people at Good Thyme and over the course of those evenings, I realized three things: people crave a sense of belonging, they want to create memories and part of the magic of their visit up here was the lake's steadfast constancy. I heard countless stories about rituals and legacies: families who came up to the same cabin every year, beach glass collected to take home, epic rock skipping contests, wedding and subsequent anniversary dinners spent at the restaurant, the first ferry ride to Madeline Island, kayaking in the sea caves, again, the list goes on and on. I'm not unique in my deep affection for this place; there are a million ways to fall in love with Lake Superior and I've seen it in the eyes of people when they shared stories of 'their' lake.

'If in a city we had six vacant lots available to the youngsters of a certain neighborhood for playing ball, it might be "development" to build houses on the first, and the second, and the third, and the fourth, and even the fifth, but when we build houses on the last one, we forget what houses are for. The sixth house would not be development at all, but rather it would be mere short-sighted stupidity. "Development" is like Shakespeare's virtue, "which grown into a pleurisy, dies of its own too-much."

In objection to the dedication of the Gila as a permanent wilderness hunting ground, it has been truly said that a part of the area which would be "locked up" bears valuable stands of timber. I admit that this is true. Likewise, might our sixth lot be a corner lot, and hence very valuable for a grocery store or a filling station. I still insist it is the last lot for a needed playground, and this being the case, I am not interested in grocery stores or filling stations, of which we have a fair to middling supply elsewhere.' Aldo Leopold 'A Plea For Wilderness Hunting Grounds' The Best of Outdoor Life: One Hundred Years of Classic Stories

Extraction is quick and dirty— there is lots of action, fuss and bluster, money is promised and delivered (hopefully) but extractions, at their core, are not endless. Eventually, we'll run out of taconite, the action and money leaves to find another mistress and we're left with a shadow of the beauty and majesty that once was a blessed and integral part of our daily life. At some point, we have to decide the resources we have so generously been given are not endless and deserve our utmost respect and thanks. If I had a wish for my children and grandchildren, it would be they can see and feel the lake that has provided solace, joy and deep peace to their mother and grandmother. I would wish they could continue to add to the tapestry Ted and I started when they were born and pass on a legacy of gratitude and stewardship for one of the great wonders of the world.

What does stewardship and sustainability really mean? Is it possible to re-imagine an economy where we have enough and we re-define abundance?  Is there any common ground between a neighborhood in Minneapolis creating a sense of community with a garden and a group of people in the Chequamegon Bay creating a sense of community with a movement to protect Lake Superior? Absolutely. As Aldo Leopold said, 'the land ethic simply enlarges the boundaries of the community to include soils, waters, plants, and animals, or collectively: the land'. I don't believe we can function in a sustainable way without practicing good stewardship to the people, animals, land and water where we set down our roots. I believe protecting Lake Superior is a good place to start. I believe we are connected in a myriad of unseen but deeply felt ways and these last places— Lake Superior, the Penokees and the Bad River Watershed are worth saving.

'A thing is right when it tends to preserve the integrity, stability and beauty of the biotic community. It is wrong when it tends otherwise.' Aldo Leopold

California Zinfandel & Washington Syrah

"In water one sees one's own face; But in wine, one beholds the heart of another." An Old French proverb

2010 Owen Roe Syrah Ex Umbris

Not only is the label hip and cool, the wine inside the bottle is top-notch. A heady nose of wild berries, smoke and pepper combined with a dense and full body are pure Washington Syrah. There is a fair amount of dark fruit, cherries and licorice on the palate with a medium finish; it's not the biggest Syrah I've had but it's an easy drinking and very smooth wine. I'd recommend either opening the bottle early or decanting, it needs a little time to breathe in order to put it's best foot forward and show you how spectacular Washington Syrah can be. My favorite wine shop, Bayfield Wine and Spirits has a couple bottles left.

2010 Orin Swift Zinfandel Saldo

I really like California Zinfandel but I get tired of overly jammy, one note Zins. Dave Phinney. the winemaker behind The Prisoner, has an uncanny sense for blending big, assertive wines while still maintaining balance and nuance. This vintage is 82% Zinfandel, 10% Petite Sirah, 6% Syrah, 2% Grenache, sourced from 17 vineyards.  Saldo means 'balance' and the zesty spices and anise flavors provide a perfect counterpoint to the dark, lush fruit. This is one of my all time favorites. A glass of Saldo is balm for a rough day or a celebration in the glass for a good one— it's a versatile Zin with way more than one note.