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Recipe: watermelon berry mojito

Do you ever say to yourself, “I haven’t done X as much as I would like to”? X being whatever it is that you would like to do. I found myself saying that over and over again this summer with regard to hiking. Obviously, we can’t go backpacking right now because of Kaweah (who is doing quite well at the moment), but even scheduling hikes is conflicting with meetings, client work, and other things that demand our attention. We managed to get out the other morning to see the grasses of the high country starting to turn. In a few weeks, Colorado will start going gold when the aspens change from lush green to brilliant yellow. It’s an amazing time of year.

indian peaks morning

fiery moody sunsets

Jeremy and I did a good bit of hiking last summer, which has a lot to do with the fact that we weren’t splitting our time between two places. I also learned foraging last year, which is fun. Except lately I’ve begun to scrutinize “foraging” as an activity. This has been cycling through my mind lately whenever I’m outside like yesterday morning’s hike. I was overjoyed to be moving at a good clip, getting somewhere and seeing all of the familiar features of the mountains – places I’ve hiked countless times before. I am no forager. I am a hiker. You could say I’m a noodler when it comes to foraging because I don’t care about the haul so much as satisfying my curiosity of what grows where and when. I prefer the physical exertion of hiking. I’m in it for the journey and the challenge. The extra nibbles are a bonus for me, not the purpose.

sweet wild raspberries from late august

The idea for a watermelon berry mojito crossed my mind one evening and I made a mental note to pick some. Watermelon berries (Streptopus amplexifolius) or twisted stalk berries or wild cucumber are plump red berries that have a slimy texture (think ripe hachiya persimmon) and lots of seeds. The flavor is that of a slightly sweet cucumber. It’s lovely. Wendy introduced me to them last summer and they remind me of holiday ornaments dangling from their stalks. They grow across North America in mountain and subalpine zones.

you see why the plant is called twisted stalk

and if you look underneath, lots of berries

I find these berries to be easily identifiable, but as with all things foraged – you really need to know what you’re putting in your mouth or else things could go very badly for you. Jeremy and I picked the berries at about 9600 feet in a shady mixed stand of aspens and conifers near a stream in the mountains. They were everywhere. It was the same day we foraged huckleberries (which were not everywhere) for the huckleberry ice cream. On our way back to the trailhead, I felt dissatisfied and said as much. We both agreed that we’d be happier with less foraging and more hiking.

a cup of watermelon berries

watermelon berries, lemon, water, sugar

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Recipe: homemade salmon lox

It’s my favorite month, you know… birthdays, autumn colors, potential snow storms, fleece weather. A three-day weekend saw August off and welcomed September with sweaty open arms. It always gets hot in early September which merely increases my anticipation of the first frost in the mountains. For the most part, we remained at home and worked through the holiday weekend to avoid the throngs of people flooding into the mountains. Except we did venture down to Denver at the last minute to score a great deal on some season passes for Crested Butte this winter.

sweeeeeeeeeeeeeet

Granted, it is technically summer until September 22nd and I accept this. If summer didn’t have such a bounty of wonderful foods, I’d be a lot less tolerant of the heat. Wild-caught Alaskan salmon graces my fishmonger’s display these days. It’s downright distracting when I’m swinging by to pick up some scallops or shrimp and then these jewel-colored filets or steaks draw my attention to the “sale” sign. Sometimes, I can’t help myself.

salmon, dill, tarragon, bay leaves, shallots, black pepper, green peppercorns, vodka, kosher salt, sugar

I’ve been wanting to cure my own lox for several years now. I’m not sure if I should be happy about finally getting around to doing it or if I should be sad that it took me this long. Part of the problem is that I wanted to use wild salmon rather than farmed salmon. Farmed salmon is available year-round while wild salmon is seasonal. Summers kept slipping past me before I remembered to make lox, and farmed salmon doesn’t really appeal to me these days.

the filet will have pin bones

remove those with some (clean) pliers

What I love about making lox is how easy it is. Aside from finding space in my refrigerator, it was just a bit of chopping, mixing, smothering, and wrapping. Most of the work doesn’t involve you at all.

mix the sugar and salt together

chop the dill

slice shallots

mix the herbs and spices and aromatics together

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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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