use real butter

Recipe: apple cider pancakes

It’s just me here now. Well, me and Kaweah. Jeremy is back home for work-related obligations, my photog pals have split in different directions because in truth, the fall foliage is sucking this year. I’m still hanging around waiting for Glory, but if Glory is not to be found in the leaves, there is beauty enough in day-to-day life. That’s why I have an office in Crested Butte – if Nature isn’t cooperating, I can get plenty of work done and still have time to get out for some solitude on a trail run or social time on a walk with my neighbor.

the interior of that shelter at the edge of town

There are only two more weeks of the Crested Butte Farmers Market, so I’ve made it a point to go and pick up greens and other goodies that I can’t generally find in the grocery stores around here (this ain’t no Boulder). Despite being a fraction of the size of Boulder’s Farmers Market (which I also love), CB has an incredibly friendly and charming vibe. It’s nearing the end for the heirloom tomatoes, so I plopped down a hefty chunk of change for several which I’ve been enjoying straight up this week. Our summers are short in the Colorado mountains, which makes me appreciate them far more than when I lived in The Land of Eternal Summer (Southern California).

colorful bouquets

a bowl of crab apples that todd and diane picked

Corn and peaches are growing scarce, but apples… apples and all things apple-y are on their way in. While at the market, I purchased my second jug of organic apple cider. I’ve been obsessed with these apple cider pancakes that my friend, Rachael, had mentioned a couple of weeks ago. First I fiddled with the recipe, then I served them to Todd and Diane on their visit last week, then I sent Jeremy home with a bunch to heat up for his breakfasts this week. So now I think someone else needs to make a batch before I turn into a pancake. Your turn! I should also point out that I liked them so much, I even shot the recipe here in CB (lots of kinks to work out still)!

milk, buttermilk, apple cider, all-purpose flour, whole wheat flour, butter, sugar, cinnamon, eggs, baking powder, baking soda, salt

When someone sells me anything with “apple cider” in the name, it had damn well better taste like apple cider or I get a little stabby. By default, almost anything calling for apple cider in a recipe is changed to “reduced apple cider” in my kitchen. This is how I roll. I personally prefer regular apple cider, but if you can’t get that, spiced apple cider is fine (or maybe you like that better). Apple juice is acceptable if you can’t find apple cider, although clearly inferior. I call it like I see it.

boil the cider to a quarter of its original volume

a quart should yield a cup

**Jump for more butter**

Recipe: miso pork belly stack

I haven’t been out shooting much this past week because the aspens are still quite green. They are late. I mean LATE. Late is fine, except changing aspens begin flirting with cold weather. Cold is fine too, but frosts and hard freezes can wreck the colors. It seems that green aspens manage to endure the frost and snow for the most part. Our days are usually sunny and warm such that the healthy stands can bounce back.

frost, mist, and snow from last week

by afternoon, all was warm enough for kaweah to enjoy her pupsicle treat in the yard

And everything looked to be okay for the first few frosts and snowfalls. Then on Friday, I went for an evening trail run that started out dry…

but wound up snowing 2 miles in

and it just kept snowing the entire way

That storm took its toll and much of the local color that had been humming along turned to a rust orange or black. I call it freeze die off. The upside of all this is that there are still a lot of green aspens and this week is looking to warm up. I think there is potential. The question is if the leaves will get going before the next storm barrels through. In the meantime, I’m watching it all unfold from my hikes, bikes, and trail runs.

a cute little shelter on a trail at the outskirts of town

new color that survived the storm

we don’t get a ton of red aspens, so what we do get is delightful

With all of the chilly weather we had, I have been cooking, baking, and becoming more comfortable with my kitchen in Crested Butte. Todd, Diane, and I were so enthusiastic about picking peaches last week during their visit, that I was left with many pounds of ripe, sweet organic peaches. Even if Jeremy liked peaches (which he does not), there was no way we could both finish it all off before the fruit flies took over our house and flew off with Kaweah. So I made several peach crisps with oatmeal toppings to give to some of our awesome neighbors. You wouldn’t know me for a baker in summer because the heat makes me so dang cranky, but cooler weather ushers in more oven and stove time for things like peach oatmeal crisps or… miso roast pork belly.

start with kosher salt, brown sugar, and pork belly (belleh)

mix the salt and brown sugar together

coat the pork belly with the cure

wrap it tightly in plastic and refrigerate overnight

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Recipe: huckleberry ice cream

Last summer, my friend and expert wild foods forager, Wendy, introduced me to foraging. It was the inevitable marriage of two of my loves: the backcountry and food. Make that THREE of my loves: the backcountry, food, and plants. I’m a little bit of a plant geek, although nothing close to Wendy’s level of knowledge and geekdom. Truth be told, eating the food is probably the least favorite aspect of foraging for me. I really love the outdoors, the thrill of the hunt (I tell Wendy that I think porcini hunting would be far more exciting if the mushrooms could run… and scream), and learning the native plants. Familiarity with the plants and their various medicinal or culinary uses makes me cherish these mountains even more than I already do.

So when Wendy told me she was going to show me huckleberries last summer, she said, “You’re gonna kick yourself when you realize what they are.” And she was correct. The plant is a low-growing ground cover over a good portion of our mountains. It is EVERYWHERE and I’ve always admired it as a pretty understory on the forested slopes. It’s been there this whole time and I never knew they were huckleberry plants! The plants seem to thrive above 9000 feet, but peter out near treeline (somewhere around 10,800 or 11,000 feet). The berries are small here in the Rockies and quite well hidden, especially if you don’t know to look for them.

huckleberry plant

the berries are underneath

Of course, as with all things, please don’t go randomly picking berries that you aren’t familiar with and popping them into your mouth. That’s just bad form… and it’s dumb. The first time I tasted a fresh huckleberry, I was blown away by the intensity of it. Huckleberries have the perfect balance of tartness, sweetness, and a big flavor for such a tiny berry. Wendy described it perfectly, “Huckleberries are what blueberries aspire to be.” It’s so true. I had a hunch that the huckleberries were nearing peak a few weeks ago, but I was so busy with out-of-town visitors and work that I didn’t get out to pick any until last week. Most of the patches were bare, but a few choice locations had some dark purple berries. I managed half of what I needed for a batch of ice cream. My fear was that I would have to augment the huckleberries with store-bought blueberries and wind up with bluckleberry ice cream. I tried another trail the following morning and was able to squeak out enough for the recipe. These were a little less ripe, but still so full of flavor that some sugar would brighten them up easily enough.

my end-of-season haul

make a compote: huckleberries, water, lemon, sugar

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