The Next Step on My Culinary Journey

Around this time last year, I announced -- or, more appropriately, confirmed -- a shift in my cooking and blogging toward learning, understanding and empathy through food. That shift took me to a path created by three individuals who I admire: Anthony Bourdain, Andrew Zimmern and Jose Andres. I will still walk that path, because I believe, as all three of them did, that food has the power to unite us if we open our eyes, free our minds and listen to others. 

Yet, I feel that, as I continue to walk that path, I need to do something for myself. I have always been attuned to the need to be in the present moment, something that I picked up with my learning and practicing Buddhist meditation. It even led me to start a project, The Mindfulness Foodways, where I incorporated Buddhist principles to improve my cooking. More recently, I have become aware of the impact of food on my health. This new awareness has opened my eyes and freed my mind in a different way, which provides me with an opportunity to take the next step on my culinary journey. 

That step is a figurative one, as I remain committed to walking my present culinary path. It involves a change in mindset, one that is brought about by a trinity of different individuals: Confucius, the Buddha and Laozi (or Lao Tzu). All three of them are represented in the Ming Dynasty painting above. 

There was a story about all three philosophers being asked to taste from a barrel of vinegar. It comes from Daoist teaching, so that gives some perspective as I recount it. All three philosophers were asked to give their opinions of the vinegar. Confucious went first, and, after a few moments of contemplation, he declared the vinegar to be sour, much like he found the world to be full of degenerate people. The Buddha went next, tasting the vinegar and declaring that it was bitter, like he found the world to be full of bitter suffering. Loazi went last. He tasted the vinegar and declared it to be sweet, just as he found the world. He found that there was a balance between harmony and beauty even with the sourness and bitterness. 

The story represents, not just three opinions about vinegar, but a much bigger picture. Yet, while they may not agree, the three philosophers wrote extensively about food, from its preparation to its consumption. For instance, Confucius once wrote, "eat only until seven-tenths full; control in portions promotes longevity." The Buddha also spoke similar words to a king, "when a man is mindful, knowing moderation in the food he eats, his ailments then diminish: he ages slowly, thus guarding his life." Those words are sage advice for which I need periodic reminders, especially when I am presented with a plate of something I love to eat. These words, as well as other advice will guide me as I walk my path going forward. 

But, it is the Daoist (or Taoist) view that will reshape my mindset the most. It is recognizing the "Dao" of cooking and eating, the balance of not just flavors, but processes and ingredients. This is a path that I have wandered down somewhat in the past, with my exploration of the five tastes, which is a concept that originated with Laozi's Dao de Jing (or Tao Te Ching). Much of my learning has focused on its application in Vietnamese cuisine, in which it is referred to as Ngu Hanh or Ngu vi.  But, now, I need to embrace a balance far greater than tastes or cooking processes. I need and overall balance in what I eat. 

This leads to the next step on my culinary pathway. I am opening my eyes, freeing my mind, and listening to new approaches. For example, I am working to incorporate Ayurvedic principles into my cooking. The goal is to build on what I have learned about balance in food to introduce new ingredients, with new flavors and textures, to improve the balance in what I eat. This includes ingredients that I previously would have dismissed as "sour" or "bitter." I am going to find the beauty and harmony in it all. But that is not all, my efforts -- all of which will become part of my Laozi Initiative within The Mindfulness Foodways -- will also incorporate other teachings that center around food as medicine, such as Yakuzen, or food as ways to improve health, such as Washoku. Both of these approaches come from Japanese cooking (although Yakuzen is based on Chinese medicinal teachings known as Yaoshan). 

I should have taken these steps much earlier in my culinary life, but my mind was not ready. I believe that it is now. This more spiritual and philosophical mindset will become my focus as I continue on my culinary journey. That journey will remain along the same path to which I have committed myself: one of learning, understanding and empathy through food.  

You can follow me by checking out The Mindfulness Foodways, where you can see both my Buddha Initiative (being more mindful when cooking) and my Laozi Initiative, which focuses on the balance in my cooking. It is truly a thousand mile journey, so feel free to visit periodically.

PEACE.

Little Fish, Big Problem

"And you only get big fish if you leave enough little fish in the ocean." 

-- Carl LoBue, The Nature Conservancy

Atlantic Menhaden are very small fish that are part of the herring family. Menhaden can be found from Nova Scotia to northern Florida, as well as everywhere in between, including the Chesapeake Bay. The fish are filter feeders, collecting zooplankton and phytoplankton by filtering the water as they swim. 

Menhaden have been called the "most important fish" in the sea, not because of what they eat, but because of what eats them. All types of larger fish and even mammals, from striped bass to dolphins, feast on schools of menhaden. (Dolphins can eat up to twenty pounds of menhanden in a day.)  Seabirds such as osprey, bald eagles, and pelicans also rely upon the small oily fish as a food source. By all accounts, this very small fish has a very oversized role in the aquatic food chain. 

It also has had a very large role in our history. Native Americans referred to the fish as munnawhateaug, which translates to "fertilizer." That was an apt name because indigenous people used the little, bony fish to fertilize their crops. It is believed that the Native Americans taught early colonists to plant the fish along with corn seeds, knowing that the nutrient-rich fish would help the crops grow. 

Today, these little fish end up in much more than fertilizer: they are used to produce fish oil, fish meal, and even fish bait. The utility of the small fish means that the landings (that is, the catch) of menhaden exceeds any other fish caught in the United States. In the Chesapeake Bay, all of the menhaden are primarily caught by one company: Omega Protein, a subsidiary of a Canadian corporation, and its partner Ocean Harvesters. Both primarily operate in Virginia, which is one of the only states that still allows industrial scale fishing of menhaden. 

Ocean Harvesters' vessels use purse seine netting, which are large walled nets, to catch the menhaden. While purse seines are often criticized for the amounts of bycatch, especially when using fish aggregating devices, the issue in this instance is that the use of purse seines results in an overcatch of mehaden. The menhaden catch is already subject to regulation, limiting the amount of fish that can be caught in any year. Omega and its partner have been accused of exceeding those limitations in previous years. Back in 2019, it admitted to exceeding the limits. 

Ocean Harvesters' vessels using purse seine netting to catch mehaden
(Source: Chesapeake Bay Foundation, Theodore Roosevelt Conservation Partnership and
Cosmovision Media

Yet, limitations are put in place for a reason, and, there are concerns that overfishing menhaden will have ripple effects across the Chesapeake Bay and elsewhere (the menhaden do migrate to North Carolina in the fall and winter). The biggest concern is the loss of food for other marine species, given the menhaden's critical role in the food chain. In fact, the Atlantic States Marine Fisheries Commission determined that the current limitation on mehanden fishing would threaten the striped bass population. Other studies have shown an impact on osprey, as evidenced by an increase in the starvation rate among osprey chicks.  

Most recently, the commission voted to reduce the limits on mehaden fishing by 20%. The change was due to reduced estimates of menhaden populations in the waters. The Commission also voted to consider additional changes to the catch levels in the Chesapeake Bay, although no such change was immediately implemented. These changes are overwhelmingly supported by the public, with 92% of voters in Virginia supporting leaving more mehanden in the bay.

While the reduction in catch limits is welcomed, more needs to be done, especially to support other fisheries, like the striped bass fishery. Yet, the issue is often pitted as jobs (namely, those who work for Omega Protein and Ocean Harvesters catching and processing mehanden) versus the environment. Such an issue is really not one at all. If there are no menhaden, not only are there no striped bass, but there are also no jobs catching and processing mehaden. It is far easier to retrain a worker than it is to restore a species that goes locally extinct (although, as I have previously noted, that story of the bay scallop shows that the task is extremely difficult, but not impossible). 

Our history has shown us to be very bad at balancing our needs with the environment, especially when it comes to the rivers, seas and oceans. Menhaden are a textbook example of that imbalance, as well as the ripple effects it can have throughout an ecoystem. We need more research and more action to ensure the future of not just those tiny fish, but also everything else that depends upon them.

Post Script: For more about mehanden, check out the Chesapeake Bay Foundation's website. You can also watch this episode of Earth Focus from PBS about the film, Menhaden: The Most Important Fish in the Bay:

PEACE.

Butter-Braised Mashed Potatoes

The potato is a venerable tuber. Its history, at least as defined by its cultivation by people, dates back at least 7,000 years. Its origin can be traced to the Andes Mountains in South America, somewhere around northwestern Bolivia and southeastern Peru. Indigenous cultures discovered that the tuber, which grew in different varieties, could be boiled and mashed to produce a tasty, and relatively healthy, foodstuff. 

Centuries later, people around the world are boiling, frying, steaming, and stewing the thousands of different varieties of potatoes. (As an aside, there are approximately 4,000 different varieties of potatoes in the Andes Mountains alone.) This is due partly to the fact that potatoes can be cultivated in a wide range of environs, from the coasts to the mountains. They can also be grown in a wide range of places, from Peru to Greenland. Most importantly, potatoes are relatively cheap to cultivate and more productive than other crops (like grains), making the tubers an important food for the masses.

Someday, I will explore the role of the modest potato in cucina povera, because that subject, as well as that cuisine, interests me greatly. However, I had a more immediate problem: how to best prepare mashed potatoes for a recent holiday feast. For decades, I did prepared mashed potatoes the "traditional way," boiling the potatoes, and mashing them while adding butter and milk. That was how I was taught to prepare them. A while back, I used to experiment by adding cheese, such as Parmigiano Reggiano or Wesleydale cheese, or other ingredients, like bone marrow (which is a popular post among readers). These efforts produced good side dishes, but I wanted to improve on my mashed potatoes skills. 

Enter Chris Kimball's Milk Street. I had gotten a subscription to the magazine as a gift from my inlaws. One of the magazines had a recipe for butter braised mashed potatoes. The use of the word "braised" caught my attention because it suggested a different way to make the dish. I read the recipe and decided to give it a try. Milk Street's recipe draws its inspiration from a potato dish found in Turkish cuisine. (Although Milk Street does not name the recipe, perhaps it was Patates Pacasi, which Milk Street highlighted back in 2022.) The cooks at Milk Street modified the Turkish recipe by reducing the water and adding the butter. This step was based on science, as the butterfat coats the potatoes, reducing water absorption and helping to preserve the potato flavor. It also reduces the amount of starch granules that burst, which results in a fluffier and less gluey texture. 

The recipe suggests using russet potatoes over Yukon Gold. Russet potatoes have higher starch contents, as well as lower water contents, which help produce lighter, fluffier mashed potatoes. By contrast, Yukon Gold potatoes will produce a creamier mashed potato, which is not quite the result contemplated by the recipe. Light, fluffy potatoes are the goal; so, I used russet potatoes. The end result was far better than any mashed potatoes that I have previously prepared. They were truly lighter and fluffier, while still buttery and potatoey in flavor. These butter-braised mashed potatoes were also a hit among the guests. It was the one dish that had the least amount of leftovers.

I think I have found my go to recipe for mashed potatoes. Thank you, Milk Street.

BUTTER-BRAISED MASHED POTATOES

Recipe from Christopher Kimball's Milk Street (Oct.-Dec. 2025), pp. 12-13

Serves 6-8 

Ingredients:

• 3 pounds russet potatoes, peeled and cut into 1-inch chunks
• 18 tablespoons salted butter, cut into chunks
• Kosher salt
• Ground black pepper
• Boiling water, if served right away
• Chives, chopped, to serve

Directions:

1. Prepare the potatoes. Place the potatoes in a colander; rinse briefly under cool water while tossing. Drain well, then transfer to a large (7-8 quart) Dutch oven, distribute evenly. Add 1 1/2 cups of water; the potatoes will not be fully submerged. Sprinkler with 1 1/2 teaspoons salt, then drop in the butter. 

2. Boil the potatoes. Bring to a boil over medium high heat, then cover, reduce to medium low heat and simmer, stirring occasionally until the potatoes fall apart when pierced with a fork, 25-30 minutes. Uncover and cook over medium stirring only once or twice, until only a little starchy liquid remains in the bottom of the pot, about 3 to 5 minutes. Off heat, use a potato masher to mash the potatoes until smooth. 

3. If serving right away. Add 1/2 cup boiling water and mash until the water is incorporated. Taste and season with salt and pepper. Transfer to a warmed serving dish and sprinkle with chives and additional pepper. 

4. If making ahead. Transfer to a container and cool completely, then cover tightly and refrigerate up to 2 days. To reheat, transfer the potatoes to a large saucepan and add 3/4 cup water. Cover and cook over medium-low, mashing occasionally (do not stir) until the potatoes are warm and fluffy, about 20 minutes; add more water a few tablesppons at a time as needed to adjust consistency. Taste and season with salt and pepper. Transfer ot a warmed serving dish and sprinkler with chives and additional pepper. 

PEACE.

Hamdi's Fried Livers

"... anyone, from any corner of the world, can come to live in the United States and become an American." 

-- President Ronald Reagan

I cannot believe that I am quoting President Reagan, but here we are. The ol' Gipper has been gone for some time. Now, in his place, we have a warped megaphone, our forty-seventh President. He loudly screeches racist, white supremacist attacks against minority communities. Those attacks echo throughout our billionaire-owned media outlets and social media platforms, reaching practically every corner of our country. One statement, like the President's description of the Somali community in the United States as "garbage," can rumble across the country like an earthquake, shaking the foundation of our society, as the media repeats those statements like aftershocks.

The foundation of our country is a unique social experiment. However, unlike most experiments, the result does not exist in a fixed moment in time. It is not July 4, 1776, when our founders signed the Declaration of Independence or September 17, 1787, when our Constitution was signed. It isn't even some point in the 1940s or 1950s, when Normal Rockwell was producing his artwork.  The results of this unique experiment are measured over years, decades, and even centuries. 

Moreover, the subjects of the experiment -- Americans -- are not defined by any outward manifestation, such as skin color or gender. We are not even defined by what we believe, such as our religion. Who we are as Americans is defined by something far greater, something that transcends each individual. 

That "someting far greater" is what guided Somalis who made their way to this country. And, in fact, Somalis have been coming to the United States since at least the 1920s. The Somalis who settled here became U.S. citizens; and, a few decades later, when Somalia finally became an independent nation in 1960, they were joined by Somali students seeking a better education in this country. As the new country succumbed to internal turmoil, resulting in the eventual ouster of the socialist dictator Mohammed Siad Barre in 1991 and the collapse of the government thereafter, even more Somalis fled to our country, looking for a better life or themselves and their families in a more peaceful place. 

Over time, Somali-American communities emerged across the United States. It is estimated that there are 260,000 Somalis living in the United States. The largest Somali-American community can be found in the "Land of 10,000 Lakes," because Minnesotans are known for their martisoor or "hospitality," which reflects the Somalis' own values. As they settled in our country, most became citizens. Of the foreign-born Somalis in our country, 87% of them have become naturalized citizens. They chose to become Americans. They have also become a part of the workforce, contributing their talents, knowledge and skills to help the economy, locally, state-wide, and nationally. For example, in the State of Minnesota, the Somali-American community generates at least $500 million in income annually, and pays $67 million in state and local taxes. (Statistics like these are repeated, over and over again, community by community of immigrants, migrants and refugees who come to this country.)

To be certain, the history of the United States is scarred and potmarked with racism, ethno-phobia and intolerance towards those who come to this country seeking a better life. Those scars remind us of the worst in ourselves, which prevents us from truly making America great: people come to our country looking for a better life for themselves and their families. They bring with them an incredible amount of potential, whether it is academic, artistic, economic, social, or, along the themes of this blog, culinary. Over the course of our history, our country has harnessed that potential in ways that benefitted everyone, including those whose families have lived in this country for centuries. But, if we wallow waist-deep in intolerance, or if we cling to myths like the United States being a white, male-dominated, christian nation (we have always been a polyglot of peoples and of a nation), then we are denying to ourselves our strongest asset and depriving everyone of better lives. 

Source: MN Natural History Museum

It is not the President's statements about the Somali community that motivated me to write this post. Instead, it was a cookbook, Soo Fariista, Come Sit Down. This book brings together recipes from Somali high school students who live in Minnesota. It is their collective effort to promote learning and understanding of their own culture and identity (something that has become a mission of my blog). They are sharing their culture and cuisine, showing how they have been able to bring their in an effort to find common ground with us. 

One particular recipe in the cookbook involves the preparation of fried liver. The recipe comes from a student, Hamdi, who ate fried liver while she traveled in east Africa. While that recipe created some "controversy" among the student authors, as it would for many youth in this country (few kids voluntarily eat liver), they all agreed that it was very Somali to eat liver. It also happens to be very Chef Bolek to eat liver. For that reason, I decided to make the recipe.

We all must acknowledge that the Somali community -- like all immigrant, migrant, or refugee communities in the United States -- are not trash, but treasures. The United States has many such treasures, but we can only recognize them if we accept that our country is not a melting pot, where everyone melts together in some grossly, thick white colored cheese that is supposed to coat every aspect of our economy, society and government. Instead, the United States is more like a mixed salad, perhaps a Somali Summer Salad, with separate ingredients coming together to add flavor to the overall dish. The combination of ingredients makes the end product -- the United States -- a better country. 

HAMDI'S FRIED LIVERS

Recipe provided by Hamdi to MPR News

Serves 4

Ingredients:

• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 onion diced
• 1 green bell pepper, diced
• 1 pound goat or beef liver, chopped
• 2 tablespoons chicken bouillon
• Salt

Directions:

1. Saute the onion and peppers. Heat oil in a large cast-iron skillet until smoking. Add the onion and green pepper and cook, stirring frequently, until softened about 5 minutes.

2. Saute the liver. Add the liver and bouillon and cook for approximately 15 minutes, adding water if pan becomes dry. Season with salt to taste. 

*     *     *

Finally, rather than listen to our current President attack communities within our country or the media repeat those attacks, I recommend taking less than five minutes to watch and listen to President Reagan speak about immigration (again, I can't believe I am saying that):

Those in the Somali-American community are living examples of what President Reagan spoke about so many years ago. They are part of what makes this country great and their desire to come to this country, seek out the American dream, and contribute to our country, giving much more than they receive while here. But, as President Reagan noted, their most important contribution is to renew our pride and gratitude in our country. When we defend communities like the Somali-Americans, we are also defending and honoring our country.

PEACE.

Roast Turkey, Wild Onions, and Maple Squash

"We will be known forever by the tracks we leave." 

-- Words of wisdom from the Dakota People

Thanksgiving is supposed to be a day in which we give thanks for all of our blessings over the past year. The holiday draws inspiration from events, partly historical and partly fictional, that transpired in the fall of 1621. The pilgrims of the Plymouth colony (that is, white colonizers) organized a feast to celebrate their successful harvest, giving thanks for the cultivation of food that would support them through the winter. 

That's where the history ends and much of the fiction begins. Subsequent generations would be taught that the feast was one shared by grateful pilgrims and their neighbors, the indigenous Wampanoag people. That is not entirely accurate. The feast was initially a white person, pilgrim/colonizer affair, because they did not initially invite the Wampanoag to the feast. Rather, the Wampanoag arrived after hearing gunshots fired off by celebratory pilgrims, thinking that the pilgrims were under an attack. Only after they arrived were the indigenous people allowed to stay and join in the feast. 

Thanksgiving was, and continues to be, built upon a myth of celebration and cooperation between white colonists and the indigenous people. The actual history -- over four hundred years of it -- defined what would become the United States. That definition includes the forced displacement and death of a majority of the indigenous people, removed from the land upon which their ancestors built not only comunities but also entire cultures and societies. Much of those civilizations have been lost, as the United States established itself, and expanded itself, at the expense of the indigenous peoples, nation after nation. 

Those are the tracks that we have left as a country and as "the American people." It is a path hardly discussed because holidays like Thanksgiving have us looking anywhere but down at our feet. So, for this particular Thanksgiving in 2025, I thought I would do something other than express gratitude for my blessings. I am looking down at my feet, at the ground.

The particular context of my feast unfolded in the city of Crisfield, Maryland, where my beautiful Angel and my wonderful family took a short trip during the holiday weekend. I found a lovely house in Crisfield, Maryland (more about that in another post), where I would prepare our holiday feast with help from our family. The city of Crisfield lies on a peninsula that was originally the home of the Annamessex people, who, in turn, were part of the Pocomoke Paramountcy. As an aside, the colonizers who reached this penninsula referred to it as the "Annamessex Neck." 

It is difficult to find much about the Annamessex people, but there is more out there about the greater Pocomoke nation. That nation stretched across the eastern shore, particularly along the Annamessex, Manokin, and Pocomoke rivers. They were organized into communities, with women and younger children growing corn, beans and squashes, while men and older boys hunted, trapped and fished. The Pocomoke were also traders, producing wampum, which are the shell beads and belts, and peake, which are darker beads made from clams. In addition to trading wampum and peake, the Pocomoke also crafted dug-out canoes that they used for transport and trade. 

As European colonizers settled in Annamessex Neck, the indigenous people were driven from their lands. The colonizers claimed the territory, refused to allow indigenous people to hunt on the land, and, with the assistance of the local and state governments, forced the Annamessex onto a reservation located at Askiminokonson, near present day Snow Hill, Maryland. Eventually, the white colonizers claimed that territory, leaving the Annamessex, along with the greater Pocomoke nation, with nothing. 

I have been unable to locate any Annamessex or even Pocomoke recipes for a turkey. This particular roast turkey recipe comes from Sean Sherman, an Ogala Lakota chef who has made it his mission to preserve and advance indigenous cuisine. He focuses upon both the ingredients and cooking processes used by indigenous cooks across Turtle Island. (I also used his recipe for wojape to serve alongside the turkey). 

I have to admit that I had some concerns, because the recipe did not call for a stuffing. I have always prepared roast turkeys with stuffings, using the latter to help regulate temperatures and add flavors to the meat. Fearful that I would overcook the bird without a stuffing, I decided to utilize a stuffing from Renewing America's Food Traditons, a book written by Gary Paul Nabhan. A first-generation Lebanese-American, Nabhan is an Agricutural Ecologist, Ethnobiologist, and Franciscan brother. He has worked with indigenous peoples, particularly in the southwestern United States and Mexico to preserve their foodways and advocate for their sovereignty. This particular stuffing comes from the opposite side of the United States, with a recipe offered in connection with a discussion of the endangered Naragannsett Turkey. The stuffing is not a traditional one that would be served alongside the bird. Instead, it consists of ingredients intended to provide additonal flavors to the meat. 

With these recipes in hand, I proceeded with Chef Sherman's Roast Turkey, Wild Onions and Maple Squash recipe. The overall dish provided a great example of indigenous foods could be prepared by indigenous peoples like the Annamessex. Wild turkeys are found across the State of Maryland; and, as noted above, the Annamessex cultivated squash. They could have easily gathered wild onions from around their village, along with other ingredients, such as juniper berries, which could have been gathered from the eastern red cedar trees or perhaps the common juniper (before it went locally extinct in the State of Maryland). 

In sum, this dish and my heart is with honoring those who were originally present and thriving here, long before any Spanish explorer or English colonizer ever set foot on dry land in this hemisphere. I also want to acknowledge the tracks that have been left over the centuries, and, for what that means when it comes to the United States. Our greatness (if it can be called that) came with a tremendous cost, a price not paid by those who benefitted the most, year after year, decade after decade, generation after generation. If we want to truly be known as a great country (however that could be defined), then that requires us to come to terms with our past. Otherwise, we can never truly achieve greatness as a country.  

ROAST TURKEY, WILD ONIONS AND MAPLE SQUASH

Recipe from Sean Sherman, The Sioux Chef's Indigenous Kitchen, pg. 107

Additional cavity stuffing recipe from Gary Paul Nabhan, Renewing America's Food Traditions, pg. 125

Serves 8

Ingredients (for the roast turkey):

• 1 small turkey (about 10-12 pounds)
• 1/4 cup hazelnut oil
• 2 tablespoons chopped sage
• Coarse salt
• Crushed juniper
• 2 cups corn, wild rice, or turkey stock
• 4 wild onions or 2 large onions, quartered
• 1 cup wild mushrooms, chopped
• 2 cups winter squash, cubed
• 1/4 cup maple syrup

Ingredients (for the cavity stuffing):

• 2 tablespoon sea salt
• 1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
• 1 tablespoon dried marjoram or sweet basil leaves
• 1/4 cup finely chopped flat-leaf parsley
• 1/2 cup whole wheat bread crumbs
• 1 tablespoon unsalted butter
• 1/4 cup chopped celery stalks
• 1 small white onion, chopped

Directions:

1. Prepare the turkey. One hour before roasting, remove the turkey from the refrigerator and bring to room temperature. In a blender, puree the hazelnut oil and sage and rub over the turkey. Season with salt and juniper.

2. Prepare the cavity. Rub the cavity with a mixture of 1 tablespoon of salt, 1/2 teaspoon of pepper, all of the basil or marjoram, and some of the chopped parsley. Combine the bread crumbs, lump of butter (mixed with salt and pepper), the rest of the parsley, chopped celery and onion. Stuff the mixture into the cavities of the turkey. 

3. Roast the turkey. Preheat the oven to 450 degrees Fahrenheit. Place the turkey in a roasting pan, add the stock and put in the oven. Roast until the turkey is a light golden brown, about 45 minutes. Reduce the oven temperature to 350 degrees Fahrenheit and continue roasting. After about 1 1/2 hours, scatter the onions, mushrooms and squash into the roasting pan and baste the turkey and vegetables occasionally with the pan juices. Continue cooking until the an instant-read thermometer inserted into the thigh reads 160 degrees Fahrenheit, about 30 minutes to 1 hour longer. Brush the turkey with the maple syrup. 

4. Finish the dish. Remove the turkey from the oven and transfer to a cutting board. Arrange the vegetables on a platter. Carve the turkey and arrange over the vegetables. Drizzle the pan juices over all. Serve with wild rice and cranberry sauce or wojape.  

PEACE.

Sonoran Carne Asada Tacos

Some could say that, in one way, Sonora is to Mexico what Texas is to the United States. Both states are major producers and exporters of beef. Underlying that common relationship are those who raise the cattle. The cowboys or vaqueros. Lifestyles that have faded over time and are on the verge of disappearing.

The history of the vaqueros goes all the way back to the Spanish conquistadors and colonialists, who brought cattle to the region in the sixteenth century. Missionaries encouraged the indigenous people to raise cattle, alongside the beans, corn and squash that they planted. Over the decades and centuries, cattle production increased so much that Sonora was among the top producers of beef in Mexico. 

However, recent times have made that livelihood harder to maintain. The Sonoran region has suffered from droughts. The interplay of both conditions has made it more difficult to raise cattle in the Mexican state. Back in 2021, the ongoing drought forced authorities to cut off water to farms that produce alfalfa, which is used to feed the cows, because of the falling water levels. That led to the doubling of the price of alfalfa, which made it harder to continue to raise cattle. The situation will only get worse, as experts predict that the average rainfall in the area will decrease by 20% to 30% by the second half of this century, while temperatures will rise as high as 122 degrees Fahrenheit. 

Despite a very uncertain future, beef plays an important role in Sonoran cuisine. The Sonoran way of preparing beef is particularly simple, emphasizing certain cuts, like brisket or top sirloin, over an open flame. Indeed, as one person put it, "red meat is considered a birthright" in Sonora. It is a tradition borne from the cattle ranchers. Another key component of Sonoran cuisine are tortillas. 

Carne Asada brings together beef and tortillas; and, the Sonoran preparation stands on its own. I have made carne asada many times in the past; and, those efforts usually begin with a marinade of citrus (orange, lemon and lime), along with chiles, herbs and spices. However, in Sonora, carne asada does not begin with the marinade. That caught me off guard. When I found a recipe for Sonoran Carne Asada, which is the one below, I had to do further research to verify that was the preparation. And, it makes sense. Vaqueros would not have had easy access to oranges, lemons and limes out on the prairie; they would not have small plots to grow chiles or cilantro. They had beef, and the makings for a fire. This explains why Sonoran carne asada revels in its simple preparation.

SONORAN CARNE ASADA TACOS

Recipe from NYT Cooking

Serves 6-8

Directions:

• 1/4 white onion, for cleaning the grill
• Beef fat (cut ffrom the meat, if fatty), tallow or vegetable oil, for greasing the grill
• 2 pounds of chuck roll, sliced into 1/2 inch steaks
• 2 pounds of top sirloin, sliced into 1/2 inch steaks
• 4 teaspoons kosher or sea salt, or to taste
• Frioles de Fiesta, for serving
• Salsa Tatemade Nortena (Fire Roasted Salsa) or other salsa, for serving
• Chile Verde Guacamole or other guacamole, for serving
• 12 to 16 large tortillas

Directions:

1. Start the grill. Start a charcoal or gas grill and get it very hot. For gas, set to high heat. For charcoal, the grill is ready when the coals are red but entirly covered with gray ash, adn you can hold your hand about 5-6 inches above the coals for only about 4-5 seconds beffore it becomes too hot.

2. Clean and season the grill. Using a pair of tongs, rub a quarter of a white onion over the grill. Next rub the beef fat or a paper towel soaked in vegetable oil over the grill to season it further.

3. Grill the meat. Working in batches if needed to avoid crowding, place the meat over the hot grill. Season the meat generously with salt on top right before trowing it on the grill, salt side up. (Alternatively sprinkle the top of the meat once it is on the grill). Grill for 4 to 5 minutes until the bottom has seared, deep grill marks have developed and the meat juices have started to rise and bubble over the top. Flip to the second side and grill for another 3-4 ,minutes for medium. Remove the meat and place in a lidded dish or container. Cover the cooked meat while you grill the remainder. Allow the meat to rest 5 minutes.

4. Prepare the meat. One by one take out the pieces of meat and cut into 1/2-inch dice, placing them back in the lidded dish until all of the meat has been chopped.

5. Ready the sides. Make sure that the refried beans are hot. Set them on the table, along with the salsa and guacamole in separate bowls.

6. Prepare the tortillas. Reduce the heat of the grill to medium if using gass or if using charcoal, set the flour tortillas on the cooler part of the grill. Heat the flour tortillas about 1 minute or so per side until puffed, lightly browned and completely heated through. Keep warm on a clean kitchen towl or tortilla warmer and bring to the table. 

7. Finish the dish. To assemble the tacos, a common practice is to grab a warm flour tortilla, spread some refried beans on the middle, add a generous amount of meat, then add salsa and guacamole on top to taste. 

PEACE.

Cobb Island IPA

It was originally named Sand Shoal Island until it was purchased by Nathan Cobb for 100 bags of salt in 1939. The island was then renamed Cobb Island. It has always been one of the barrier islands along the eastern shore of Virginia. Nathan Cobb built a resort on the island and, with his sons, he was  known to "splice the main brace" with the rich and famous who would come and stay at the Cobb Island Hotel. That was until the hotel was washed away in 1893. By 1933, the rest of the residents retreated to the mainland. Cobb Island was once again deserted. 

For me, the mention of Cobb Island has some other meanings. During our most recent vacation on the eastern shore of Virginia, we visited the Virginia Institute of Marine Science, where we learned about the efforts to restore a locally extinct species ... the bay scallop. Once of the areas that they have focused their work is Cobb Bay, which is the brackish water near Cobb Island. The scientists and researchers first restored the seagrasses in the area, and then they followed with the re-introduction of the bay scallop. Their efforts have been successful, bringing bay scallop populations to the point where there might be a recreational fishery in the near future. 

The brewers at Cape Charles Brewery give a nod to this history, along with the island itself, with their Cobb Island India Pale Ale. The beer is brewed in the style of a West Coast IPA: a golden hue with foam that stubbornly clings to the sides of the glass, with the centennial and cascade hops providing citrus aromas and flavor elements. Those flavor elements weigh heavily on the citrus side (as opposed to the piney side). The most readily identifiable element is grapefruit, with a little lemon on the edge. 

I have not seen this beer where I live, but I did pick up a four-pack from the brewpub in Cape Charles, Virginia. It's definitely worth the trip, not only for the beer (which is excellent), but also the award-winning wings with Miss Eve's Sweet and Spicy Sauce. Those were the best wings that I have had in a long time.

PEACE.

Quick-Pickled Radish Threads (Son Labu)

One of my favorite cookbooks is Beyond the Great Wall, a book written by Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid. Both Alford and Duguid explore Chinese cuisine, but not the typical cuisine that most people know and eat. Instead, they explore the cuisines of the many minorities who live throughout China.  One of those minorities is the Tibetans, whose cuisine I too have expllored from time to time.  

Alford and Duguid provide several Tibetan recipes in their cookbook. However, this particular recipe -- Tenzin's Quick-Pickled Radish Threads -- caught my attention. It may have been the reference to Tenzin, as I was watching The Legend of Korra at the time. (The show has a character named Tenzin.) It may have also been the pickled radish threads. 

Radishes -- or labu as they are referred to in Tibetan -- are grown on the Tibetan plateau. Tibetan cooks use radishes in a variety of dishes, such as stews like Labsa and soups like Thukpa. 

But the root vegetable has a very special place on the Tibetan table, as a condiment. It's known as Son Labu or Son Labhu. The Tibetans use large, long white radishes, which resemble the daikon radish. Typically, the radish is thinly sliced, combined with other ingredients (which, as with many recipes, depends upon the cook), and then submerged in rice wine vinegar for the pickle.  

The picked radish recipe found in Beyond the Great Wall differs in that it calls for grating the radish, rather than slicing it. The recipe also caught my attention for another reason: namely, the use of Sichuan peppercorns. I have used this ingredient in the past, such as to make Togarashi, Jioma Jipian, and Qiatou Yi Nen.  The numbing properties of the peppercorns adds an unusual experience with dishes, which is something that I like when I am cooking and eating. The recipe calls not only for the use of Sichuan peppercorns, but also onions, scallions, garlic and ginger, all of which provide additional flavors to the pickled radish threads. 

Son Labu is an interplay between spicy, sour and salty. As with radishes generally, this condiment can be eaten by itself as a little snack or added to dishes, like a cold noodle soup or a stir fry beef. 

Finally, this particular quick-picked radish thread recipe comes with a story from Alford and Duguid about a Tibetan named Tenzin, who prepared this recipe for the authors. For that story, you will need to buy the book. 

QUICK PICKLED RADISH THREADS (SON LABU)

Recipe from James Alford and Naomi Daguid, Beyond the Great Wall at pg. 25

Ingredients:

• 1 pound daikon radish, peeled and coarsely grated or thinly sliced
• 2 medium scallions
• 1/2 small onion, cut into thin slices
• 2 tablespoons minced ginger
• 2 tablespoons kosher salt
• 1 to 2 tablespoons minced garlic (optional)
• 1 teaspoon dry roasted Sichuan peppercorns, ground (optional)
• About 3 cups rice vinegar

Directions:

1. Prepare the radish. Place the radish, scallions, onions and ginger in a large bowl and toss to mix them well. Stuff half of the mixture in a sterilized 4 quart jar and add 1 tablespoon of the salt and garlic and/or Sichuan peppercorn if you wish. Add the remaining radish mixture and the second tablespoon of salt and pour on the vinegar, which should cover the mixture completely. Seal and shake the jar to distribute the vinegar well. 

2. Store the jar. Place in a sunny spot by the window for 2 to 4 days, giving the jar a shake occasionally to help blend the flavors. It is now ready to use. The pickle will keep indefinitely if well sealed and refrigerated.

3. Finish the dish. To serve, use a clean spoon or fork or chopsticks to lift out a clump of radish strands and place them in a condiment bowl. 

PEACE.

Grilled Beef (or Bison) Skewers

I had grand intentions of creating a dish, Grilled Bison Skewers. It is a recipe from Chef Sean Sherman that would have been part of my Beyond Borders project. Chef Sherman is someone that I have closely followed, ever since I ate at his amazing restaurant Owamni and learned about his efforts to restore indigenous foodways. My parents gave me his cookbook, The Sioux Chef's Indigenous Kitchen, as a gift, where this recipe could be found. 

One day, while I was walking through the aisles of a grocery store, I decided to make the skewers. I knew that the grocery store had bison, so all I needed was the other ingredients. I got the corn and squash, but I could not find any turnips. After some thought, I decided to substitute parsnips. As I already had a lot of sumac and smoked salt at home, I was ready to get the bison meat.

I headed over to the meat section and perused the bison. The store had bison ribeyes and bison strip steaks, both of which were very expensive. Right next to them were packages of sirloin. Thinking (incorrectly) that it was bison sirloin, I grabbed a package, especially given it was much cheaper than both the ribeyes and the strip steaks. It was not until I was in the middle of checking out that I realized that it was beef sirloin, not bison sirloin. The grand intention of creating an indigenous dish came crashing down with what would be characterized as a colonialist ingredient. (Cows were introduced to this continent by the Spanish.) I could no longer do a Beyond Borders post, because the skewers did not reflect the cuisine of the indigenous peoples.

I was very frustrated with myself. Ordinarily, this post, even with its beef, would never have seen the light of day on this blog because of my mistake. However, I have another project, The Mindfulness Foodways, where I am working to change how I approach cooking. And, here is the thing: as I thought about this project, I acknowledged that my mistake was due to inadvertence. I also recognized how fortunate I was to be able to make such a mistake. If I was in the shoes of an indigenous person who was living on a reservation (where the conditions of poverty are well documented), I would most likely not be standing in a store with the range of food before me, let alone have the ability to buy expensive ingredients, like beef. I stood in a position of privilege, which remained a position of privilege even though I sought to honor indigenous cuisine. 

As part of being mindful, I must acknowledge my privilege and the conflict that it creates within me. I want to explore and learn about the cultures and cuisines of other peoples, yet, I do not walk in their shoes when doing so. My present circumstances limit my ability to travel and learn first-hand from the people themselves. While I hope to do that someday, I am presently left with all I can do to learn about their cuisine and culture from afar. In so doing, I spend a lot of time thinking through everything I write to ensure that the proper respect is given. Perhaps that intent, as well intentioned as it is, can allow an erroneous purchase to be overlooked. 

GRILLED BEEF (OR BISON) SKEWERS

Recipe respectfully adapted from Sean Sherman, 

The Sioux Chef's Indigenous Kitchen, page 128

Serves 4-6

Ingredients:

• 1 to 1 1/4 pounds of bison sirloin (preferably, or beef sirloin), cut into 1- to 2-inch cubes  
• 2 tablespoons sunflower oil
• Pinch sumac
• Pinch smoked salt
• 2 to 3 ears of sweet corn, shucked and cut into 2-inch chunks
• 2 to 4 young turnips (or parsnips), cut into 2-inch chunks 
• 3 summer squash, cut into 2-inch chunks

Directions:

1. Prepare the grill. Heat the coals or a gas grill for direct heat.

2. Prepare the skewers.  Brush the bison with 1 tablespoon of the sunflower oil and sprinkler with sumac and smoked salt.  Brush the corn, turnips and squash with the remaining oil. Thread the meat, sweet corn, turnips, and squash alternately on 4 to 6 skewers. Sprinkler the meat and vegetables with additional sumac and smoked salt.

3. Grill the skewers.  Grill the skewers about 4 to 6 inches from the heat, turning frequently, until the bison is no longer pink in the center, about 15 to 20 minutes.  Serve drizzled with wojape.

ENJOY!

Restoring Virginia's Scallops

Scallops have always been an important foodsource up and down the eastern United States. And, around 1930, the State of Virginia was perhaps the largest producer of bay scallops in the United States. Just as there were oystermen/women and crabbers plying the waters around the Delmarva, there were also scallop fishermen (and women) who plied the brackish waters between the barrier islands and the eastern shore, harvesting scallops for the local market and beyond. 

A healthy scallop fishery depends upon a few things. Perhaps the most important of which is eelgrass. This seagrass provides the habitat for young scallops to develop, as well as protection from predators, like blue crabs. Another important thing is salinity. Scallops thrive in environments with a higher salinity. Both of these factors were present along the eastern Shore of Virginia, from Chincoteague Island to South Bay, from the coast to the barrier islands, which served as a buffer to the Atlantic Ocean.

Things began to change in the early 1930s. A wasting disease began taking its toll on the eelgrass in the region. Then, in 1933, the Chesapeake-Potomac Hurricane wiped out all of the remaining eel-grass by literally moving the barrier islands to smother the seagrass beds. The entire habitat of the scallops was gone; and, with that, scallops went locally extinct in the Chesapeake Bay area. 

I was completely unaware of this history until our most recent summer vacation. I planned a family trip to Virginia's eastern shore. As I prepared our itinerary, I looked for "foodie" things to do, especially things that had a learning or experiential component. I found the website for the Virginia Institute of Marine Science (VIMS), which has an eastern shore facility in Wachapreague, Virginia. As I read the VIMS website, I realized that this would be an interesting place to visit. I reached out to arrange a tour of the Wachapreague facility. I was particularly interested in the Castagna Shellfish Hatchery, which houses the aquaculture research programs. I thought that it would be great to learn more about the overall life cycle of shellfish. This education would pair well with a tour of the Lambert Shellfish oyster farm that I had scheduled for later that day. 

What was to be a tour about how shellfish are cultivated from seed to sprat turned into so much more. It became a lesson about how we can overcome a local extinction event through commitment and hard work. And, while many have spoken on this subject (just Google "scallops" and "Virginia"), I felt compelled to add whatever I can to this important discussion.  

Part One: Restore the Habitat

VIMS actually has two facilities: one on the eastern shore in Wachapreague and another on the middle neck in Glouchester Point. This latter facility is where the lesson begins. 

VIMS's Glouchester Point facility has served as the center of research and action to restore eelgrass habits in the Chesapeake Bay and along the eastern shore. The research was led by Robert Orth, who has earned the title, "Johnny Appleseed of Seagrass." Working with researchers and staff, Robert Orth developed a program that began with transplanting eelgrass from one part of the bay to another part. Once the eelgrass took root (both figuratively and literally), then the program evolved to focus on spreading eelgrass seeds, focusing primarily on four particular areas: South Bay, Cobb Bay, Spider Crab Bay and Hog Island.

Restoring eelgrass is not like planting grass in someone's yard. Generally speaking, one has to account for a wide range of variables. Eelgrass thrives within a certain salinity range. If the salinity is too low or too high, then it won't grow. It is also particularly vulnerable to human development, with runoff and deforestation taking tolls on eelgrass meadows. In sum, for eelgrass to thrive, it requires a very healthy, balanced environment. 

VIMS has restored eelgrass in approximately nine-thousand, five huundred (9,500) acres of the Chesapeake Bay, including the four bays and lagoons that I mentioned above. It believes these efforts have led to "the most successful seagrass recovery effort in history" and it is hard to doubt that statement. (VIMS has also shown its work, which can be seen here.)  

Part Two: Restoring the Scallops

While VIMS Glouchester worked to restore the eelgras, VIMS Wachaprague worked to restore the scallop population. This work begins at the Castagna Shellfish Hatchery, which is named after Michael Castagna, the first Executive Director of VIMS's Eastern Shore Laboratory. Castagna wrote the pioneering work that serves as the foundation of hard-shell clam aquaculture. 

The hatchery's researchers and staff started the restoration process with scallop brood stock from North Carolina, specifically the Bogue and Core Sounds. They had mixed success with their initial efforts. It was only after the researchers widened their vision, introducing brood stocks from New York and Florida, that things really began to change. 

To understand the process, which as a layperson I can only describe in very general terms, researchers start with adult scallops. They adjust the environmental conditions for the scallops to prompt the reproduction cycle. Once they have achieved that objective, the researchers remove the fertilized eggs and place them in a large tank, where they oversee the scallops during their initial stages of development.  

Dedicated VIMS staff, like Hatchery Manager Reba Smith, watch over the nascent scallops, feeding them different forms of algae to help them grow. They use four different types of algae, which are maintained in a multi-colored array of carboys. The specific algae used depends on where the scallops are in their metamorphosis. 

As the scallops develop, they are moved to the nursery. Other VIMS staff, including Nursery Manager Darien Kelly, continue to oversee the scallops' metamorphosis. Kelly watches them as they develop, providing them with local creek water that contains natural plankton, while also monitoring the sediment loads in that water. As the scallops develop, their little swimmers turn into feet, which they use to affix themselves to surfaces (like eelgrass). This is how scallops differentiate themselves from other mollusks. Scallops can move around, where as oysters and mussels affix themselves to a spot permanently. Likewise, while clams have some ability to move, that is mostly digging themselves into the mud and sand for protection. Scallops can swim, a trait that helps in their development and their protection.  

While in the nursery, the scallops grow in long raceway tables. The staff continue to feed algae as they monitor the scallops until they reach their juvenile stage, which takes about 60 days to 120 days. At that point, the scallops are ready to be introduced into the "wild." The scallops are moved to ground cages in areas like the South Bay, where they can continue to grow and develop. They are also released into other areas  where VIMS has successfully re-established eelgrass habitats The young scallops use their "feet" to attach themselves to the eelgrass, which enables them to develop out of reach of many predators. 

The work of VIMS' Wachepreague facility does not end with the reintroduction of the scallops to the bay. Staff conduct annual surveys of the scallops stocks in areas like South Bay, Cobb Bay and Hogs Island, to see how the scallops are faring on their own. This survey is extensive and hard work, as staff survey large stretches of the seafloor by hand. They record their findings, as well as collect new potential broodstock that could be used to continue the process so that the scallop populations can be further increased.

Based on its studies, VIMS has determined that, since 2018, their work -- as well as the environmetnal conditions -- have enabled scallop populations to increase in certain areas along the eastern shore of Virginia. The above chart shows the general increase in scallop populations, but the rates differ by specific area. For example, scallop populations have generallly increased in both Cobb Bay and South Bay. However, in South South Bay, the scallop populations have increased at an even greater rate.

Source: Virginia Institute of Marine Sciences

And, just recently, VIMS conducted its annual survey for 2025. The survey produced more amazing results, showing that the scallop population had increased substantially over the past year. The results showed that the surveyed areas generally went from .0652 scallops per square meter to .114 scallops per square meter.  This new number bodes well for two reasons: one is known as propagule pressure, which is the point where spawning may be taking place in nature; and the second involves the potential of restoring a recreational scallop fishery. 

Overall, the important work of VIMS has done something that is truly rare: they have countered a local extinction event, bringing back an animal that had been wiped out nearly 100 years ago. This work demonstrates that we can play an important role in repairing the damage done, whether by Mother Nature or by our own hands. 

I am incredibly thankful for the staff of VIMS's Wachapreague facility, especially Managers Smith and Kelly, for taking the time out of their busy day to tell us about their work. I know that both my family and myself left the facility truly impressed with their commitment and their hard work. I hope that they continue to find success to the point that there is not only a recreational scallop activity, but a potetnial scallop fishery once again. 

PEACE.

P.S.: To learn more about VIMS, as well as the work of Managers Smith and Kelly, check out the latest from W&M News.