Local Access Only. Daddy, bicycle. Daughters, bucket.

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September 2, 2010, there was some sort of street fair on NW Raleigh Street which had been closed as a thoroughfare--Local Access Only. Daddy's taking his daughters there in a bucket situated on a bicycle, a very smart way to avoid trying to find somewhere to park in that part of town, period, street fair closure or no street fair closure. As near as I can tell, that black cable dragging the ground beneath the bicycle and the bucket goes from the center of the back wheel up to the right side of the handlebars and then the brake lever. I guess that's what you call the part that you squeeze shut when you want to put on the brakes. I noticed these three Portlanders while I waited at the southbound 15 bus stop on NW 23rd Avenue, in my bag a bunch of fresh vegetables from the nearby Thursday evening Northwest Portland satellite of the Portland Farmers Market. I'd let Mama know that I was going to stay on the 15 and go shop there after work. (Please don't be confused, this photo was taken four months before she died. She was tickled about the prospect of fresh, home-cooked veggies.) Interesting that the farmers market in that area has now moved to the very street that Mama and I lived on, four blocks east of our apartment building.

Seen downtown, No. 5

Let me count a few of my daily life blessings for you.

First, from my employer I get a 24/7/365 mass transit pass. 

Second, I work in a building a single block from a bus stop where three bus lines that go west over the Willamette River stop at the beginning of my lunch hour. 

Third, those buses all stop a couple of blocks from the Wednesday downtown Portland Farmers Market, located at Shemanski Park in the South Park Blocks, behind the Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall. 

Fourth, while this particular version of the PFM is less than a square block, I prefer to think of it as being village-like, intimate and personable and filled to the brim with the bounty of folks who must have huge hearts because they're willing to grow all of these vegetables, fruits, and flowers--or to bake tarts and breads and cookies and quiches or make goat cheese--so that we can zoom over there on our lunch hour and shop among the trees. 

Fifth blessing, those founders of the city who donated the downtown blocks of land which have become home  of two versions of the Portland Farmers Market, this small one at the north end of the South Park Blocks and the huge Saturday PFM at the south end of the South Park Blocks.

So, this week on Wednesday I happily saw once again, up close and personal, why it is so ever-lovin' OK that it rains in Portland. These vegetables. Other fruits I didn't get a photo of because I was carrying too many vegetables back to work with me and couldn't manipulate the camera. And the flowers in the next photo, one that I took before I had all of the vegetables to lug.




Once I got home from work, I took everything out of the bags and washed it all and put it in these two colanders to drain.

Sixth blessing, knowing I'll soon cook and eat all of these beautiful vegetables. More on that next time.

• Seventh blessing, my friend Sarah of Portland Creamery sold me some mighty fine chevre and gave me a great big hug!

Supper. I love leftovers!

I cooked this on Sunday, intending to have it as supper, off and on this week. First I put the two chicken breasts in the glass bowl--sprinkled with salt and pepper, drizzled with olive oil--and baked them for one hour in the oven, 350 degrees. Then I got them out of the bowl so that I could use the drippings and olive oil mixture elsewhere.


Here's where I used it, in this great big saute pan so that I could first cook my cippolini onion and carrots, then braise my variety of greens and spinach. I think that I have Kale. Is that kale, y'all?

So, you see the fresh vegetables which I reaped at the Portland State University Farmers Market which opened this past Saturday. Yummy. I also bought a jar of Mango Madness, a fine pepper jelly from the Rose City Pepperheads, some Chevreddar goat cheese from Farmucopia in Woodland, WA, some other cheese from Ancient Heritage Dairy, Opal Creek, from Scio, OR. I thought I read on their sign that it was sheep cheese--now that I look at the label I see that it is described as "Artisan made on our farm with raw cow milk, cultures, enzymes and salt." Oh, well, I won't each much of it at one time so maybe the lactose tolerance problem won't kick in. It also says "aged at least 60 days." It ought to make a fine grilled cheese. I also go two smallish chocolate chip cookies sprinkled with fleur de sel (sea salt). Actually, I bought one, succumbed to its tastes and texture, then bought the other one and ate it right then, too! The best morsels I popped in my mouth as I made my way through the market!

How about a break from walking? Let's eat! And a "So You Think You Can Dance" idea.

Thursday on my afternoon work break, I walked out of the building, turned east, at the corner turned north, walked half a block and entered Organics to You, "a locally owned and operated Company, located in Portland Oregon, and has been in business, since 2001. Organics to You Delivers fresh, local, farm direct produce, along with other grocery items, directly to your home or office on a flexible weekly, every other week schedules." (From their Web site) I walked out with four ears of corn, a bunch of Swiss chard, three baby bok choys, two zucchini, two summer squash, and a ravenous hope for our supper. I walked in from the bus, ready to cook!

The zucchini, summer squash, and three Portland Farmers Market potatoes I had in the refrigerator.


Walla Walla Sweet Onions from Fred Meyer and a bit of the baby bok choy.


The baby bok choy and the Swiss chard


First I squirted some of my olive oil/canola oil combination into one of my two great big skillets and turned the electric burner to High. Then I put the chopped onion in to begin to sautee. Next I added the chopped bottoms of the baby bok choy--the white part, not the leaves. Next I added the rough-sliced potatoes. I stirred all of this enough so that oil glistened on each piece. Then I added the sliced squashes and some chopped Swiss chard stems. Oh, in between adding the potatoes and the squashes, I sprinkled some sea salt onto everything.


I let it all get hot, poured in some water, left the heat on high, and put my other great big skillet on top, upside down, as a lid.


I grabbed a handful of Swiss chard leaves, sort of wadded them up into a small mound, then sliced them across, rotated them 45 degrees and sliced across them again. When I finished with the chard, I did the same thing with the baby bok choy leaves. I took the skillet off the skillet and placed handful after handful of chopped greens atop the vegetables already in the skillet. I squirted some of the olive oil/canola oil combination here and there, sprinkled some sea salt, and balanced the skillet-as-lid back on the other skillet. I turned the heat down to four.


I let it cook a little while--I don't remember how long. (And I've forgotten to tell you that I had a slice of ham wrapped in foil, on a cookie sheet, heating at 200 degrees the whole time I was chopping and squirting and stirring.) Then I removed the upper skillet.


Here's my plate, complete with ham, the vegetable concoction and two slices of a tomato, from Fred Meyer. The plate was empty in short order. Much the same with Mama and her plate.


After I'd washed the dishes, I decided to call my sons, to tell them thanks. After all, if the two of them hadn't agreed to cook a huge meal for over 60 of our family and friends back in Jackson, Mississippi, in June, 2006, before we moved to Portland, then I would not have my two really big skillets that I now adore. I bought them so that the guys could use them that night--there was no reason for them to put what they call sautee pans in their suitcases when they flew to Jackson, not only to cook that very special meal, but to help us finish getting ready to move. Lamont flew back with Grandma. Leland drove the U-Haul with passengers--Duncan and me.

If those sweet sons of mine hadn't been so gracious and ready to sweat outdoors for almost an entire day, prepping and cooking and serving, then I would not have my really big cutting board which I also adore. It's one of those white, sort of plastic ones, easy to use, easy to clean.

I only got hold of Leland. He said, "Well, Mom, I'm glad you're enjoying them," and he chuckled. I'll let Lamont know soon.

By the way, if you watch "So You Think You Can Dance," do you agree with me that they ought to have each couple dance next week to a Michael Jackson son--in his honor? Oh, how I'd love to see that!

Last Tuesday's supper, cooked by me and enjoyed by both of us

We had leftovers, hooray! I steamed the broccoli and sauteed the asparagus and squash. We warmed up the slice of ham. That's grated Sole di Sardegna sheep's milk cheese on the plate, waiting for the asparagus. My fork is on a slice of buttered wheat bread. Mama doesn't like asparagus, but she tried it again since I'd grated the cheese. She didn't like it much better. Oh, well, that means more for me!