Coffee is About to Dominate Our 2017

I remember the first time specialty coffee caught my eye.

I was a fresh-off-the-press culinary grad in need of a job, and I answered a Craigslist ad for a baker at a new coffee shop in town. Once hired, I understood right away that this shop wanted little to do with pastries and everything to do with coffee.

Coffee. 

The word was said with hefty weight and reverence, like it meant something. It wasn’t thrown around casually, used to describe cheap fuel to keep the town running. It was spoken of as though a delicacy, a valuable and important asset all its own.

One cappuccino and I was hooked. Silky, velvety, smooth, surprisingly cool. I felt as though I, the recipient of this drink, were consuming skill and knowledge with each greedy sip.

I was also very confused.

When did coffee get this way? I wondered. Has it always been this complex? What are these devices? Where did the science come from? 


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Two years have passed since then. I’ve learned the answers to plenty of these questions, led on by mentors that both encouraged me and dumped my struggling drinks down the drain.

Barista? I learned how to show up early, work hard, take my work seriously. I can make espresso all day and never tire. But stepping outside of the shop, I am looking to explore. My questions have no limits.

When I moved to Portland to further my coffee education, I only found myself feeling trapped and discouraged. Portland is bustling with coffee nerds, events, throwdowns, and cuppings. There are shops on every corner. I live two blocks from a Stumptown and I work for one of the most respected companies in the city.

But I am, truly, blown away at how few people really love what they do here. Coffee hype got the best of the people I met. I remember vividly training a new employee who, when I pressed her for questions about why she loved coffee, responded with, “It’s just so cool. I love everything about it.” And that was the most I ever got out of her.

Coffee is cool. But it has little to do with your hip, tattooed barista and that cool record he’s playing – it has everything to do with the cup in your hand, that finally, against all odds, made it deliciously into your possession.


 

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None of this was quite clear to me until I visited my first farm, in a country I immediately fell in love with – the Philippines. (It helps that I fell in love with a Filipino, too.) All of a sudden, I could see with my own two eyes, and hold in my hands the tiny parchmented seeds that were trying to make it out of the country.

These beans, mishandled, would end up roasted to a dark and oily sheen, blended and bagged and served cheaply.

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But the Philippines has good coffee. Incredible coffee, actually. The climate of these islands allows for even very rare coffee to grow.

Why hasn’t it been showcased? Where does its potential lie? This we aim to find out, and to foster.

2017 is upon us, a year that looks like it will be hard, rewarding, challenging and unexpected. This is the year we will go back to the Philippines and get our hands dirty, on our knees to plant spindly year-old arabica seedlings. We know practically nothing.

And yet somehow, as I sit at a desk lamp late into the evening, booking tickets for our return and reading articles until I can function no longer… this is when I feel the same tickle of curiosity that I felt at the very beginning. It’s the same curious fascination as my first silky cappuccino.

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No collection of articles can prepare me for what we’ll face this year. No online class can ready me for the unexpected turns we’re about to take. I feel like I’m back to square one – a student, embarking upon a quest to become a master, ready for the blows that will surely befall me. Even imagining holding a coffee plant (which will surely outlive me, and the ministry we are planting) makes my heart race.

Coffee is about to dominate my year, in a way that has everything to do with the land, the people, and our stewardship of it.

When I prayed to use my talents to reach people, to make a difference and to spread the gospel, I don’t think I realized how practical it would be. I love coffee. I love the culture. I love Jesus.

To use coffee — brewing, growing, roasting, processing — to reach people? To change lives? To make a difference? Ah. Now we’re talking.

 

The Coffee Part of Things

I’m typing, rather painfully, on a cement surface that is so rough and new it leaves little powdery stains on my jeans. Still, there’s no place I’d rather sit, and not just because I’m wearing traveling pants that are made for the glamour of getting adventurous. No, I’m sitting on the unfinished rooftop of a restaurant that will soon be in business in the Philippines, and the flat, unfurnished cement patch I’m calling my desk will one day, with luck, be our coffee shop.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

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Let me rewind to six months ago, when I announced to everyone (including my boss) that I would be taking a three-week trip to the Philippines. Everyone asked the same question: why? (Equally importantly, why are you missing three weeks of work to visit some beautiful islands?) And I guiltily had only the faintest whisp of an answer.

“My boyfriend’s family lives over there,” I would reply. “We’re visiting them. And we’re helping with the missions work they’re doing.”

All of these things were true, Isaac’s family does live here, and we’re helping with the restaurant they’re building. But mostly we were going to scout out our own missions field, to reclaim the land that once belonged to Isaac’s ancestors and turn it into a full-fledged missions base that not only benefits the people here, but the land and lives of everyone involved. Oh, and we want to do it sustainably, economically and in a way that provides everyone involved with quality income. No more begging for missions funds to go overseas!

But all of these things sounded far-fetched. And to my largely secular group of friends, just saying, “I feel called” simply would not do. So I squeaked out an answer about helping Isaac’s parents do missions work and I prayed on my own that God would light the path for the reason we were here. Up until the very moment I got on the plane, all I could do was trust that God was going to bring to fruition whatever He wanted us here for.

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Which brings me to today. Our month in the Philippines is almost up, and now that I have seen the land and met the people firsthand, I am excited to know the path is foggy no further. The land is ripe an available and currently unused for nothing other than my dearest love — coffee. For anyone that knows me, I am a coffee fiend. The love I find in a warm, welcoming coffee shop is what I live for. The deeper I got into coffee, particularly specialty third-wave coffee, the more I became aware of how important the process is and how many lives are affected each time you serve a single cup.

As a barista, I am painfully aware of how ignorant the consumer can be when it comes to their drink. I have to fight daily the stereotype of being a snobby barista that turns up her nose at the uneducated customer and re-center my life and worldview of coffee once again around Jesus. Instead of demanding that a customer listen to my speech about our natural-processed Yigracheffe, I have begun to realize that coffee is just like any other commodity. It came from somewhere and has to be handled responsibly to be good. It is the customers job, should they choose to be aware, to know what it is they’re consuming.

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coffee drying on one of the local farms

Because even though I am really, really excited about fruit-forward espresso that came from a three hectare farm in Costa Rica, me standing around preaching the coffee gospel does nothing for anyone. It only adds, in fact, to my own prejudice. I serve quality coffee and I care where it comes from, I think to myself. I love coffee and the people behind it. I’ll pay $12 for a delicious, well-sourced drink made with care. But truly, how much good does it do to preach at people, or pay someone else for their direct-trade beans? It does nothing. It spreads awareness. I myself am doing nothing more than standing on a pedestal behind a gleaming espresso machine, begging people to understand that their drink matters.

No. I can’t do that anymore. Coffee is my life and I want to use it to change other people’s lives, too.

So today we followed up with one of our newfound connections here in the Philippines and will hopefully have our farm up and running within the next year. It has happened so unbelievably fast! Of course, we are growing a particular varietal of Arabica and will have room to process and roast here, as well as eventually serve. The dream goes as far as to extend to a shop in the United States, serving our own coffee. I kept running into the question, but is it good? Is the coffee good? Do only the best people have their hands in our process? The answer to this question is yes, although it has taken some good old-fashioned, nose-the-ground detective work to find what we need.

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With the ability to oversee the full-circle process of coffee production and handle in a way that is not only niche coffee (specialty coffee) but in a way that provides jobs for others (hopefully rescued women looking for work after freedom from human trafficking). This is all just a big dream, but one with connections and tangible possibilities.

As I sit on this rooftop, typing, the local kids are pulling out their matchboxes and releasing the spiders they keep inside for fights. They laugh and shout in a language I don’t understand, and they try to sneak up behind me to dangle the spiders in my face.

The quality of life here is different. The coffee farmers here may never even know that their beans are being inhaled deeply in a specialty shop hundreds of miles away, then served with a graceful swan on top to a customer who paid for a $6 latte. But hopefully, with some prayer and good old-fashioned digging, we can make a difference with coffee here that has nothing to do with us and everything to do with being stewards of our God-given talents. Hopefully these kids can be well fed and educated.

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But, all that said, Isaac and I will need prayer to get this dream off the ground. We have the land, the people, the seedlings — we just need to get started! The dream goes beyond just opening a coffee shop, it extends into the lives of those that farm, process and roast this coffee. Our goal is to provide them good wages, a place to live and education and discipleship.

There are other facets to this dream, like the restaurant, a skateshop, leather goods and other needs that need to be met here in the Philippines and in the US. Lord willing, we’re able to do what we were called to do simply by using our trades. So, if you get a moment to pray, we’d be super stoked. And this mindlessly rambling blog post is simply the tip of the iceberg when it comes to logistics, planning and ideas, so feel free to ask away if you’re interested in learning more or wondering if you can help. It’s going to be so rad.
(Also, if you were wondering, the kids did manage to get a spider on my head during this blog post. I did freak out.)
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Backyard to Table: A Cooking Reminder

Finding good food in Portland does not seem like a difficult task. Everywhere you turn offers a craft cocktail, a beer brewed up the street, fish fresh from the coast and mushrooms handpicked in the misty wildwood of the Oregon back country.

But after a while, the delicious food scene either numbs your palate to deliciously prepared, well-sourced delicacies or you start to get overwhelmed by the sheer amount of restaurants to try.

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Don’t get me wrong– I adore the food scene in PDX. I’ll even give you a list of my handpicked favorites to try should you ever visit.



And believe me when I say the food scene out here is the best in the US. If you think you’ve had good wings, you absolutely haven’t until you’ve tried Whiskey Soda Lounge‘s fish sauce wings. Those would probably be my last meal should I ever leave this place.

Despite all of this goodness, you know what resonates the most with me these days?

The tiny garden in the backyard.

Portland can tell me all day long (and it does) that they ‘source locally’ and ‘pick from the garden’ and establish ‘farm to table’ connections. But despite their best efforts and their tremendous successes, there is nothing that can compare from a fresh red tomato plucked off the vine, still warm from the sun.

Their farm to table and my farm to table are tremendously different. Those were seeds we dug into the wet ground a few months back. (By ‘we,’ I will admit, my green-thumbed roommates did the heavy lifting since they don’t kill plants like I do.) Now they’re vegetables, big and ripe and bursting with wonder.

So, for the past week, I have made all meals at home. Despite one late-night run to the greasy spoon diner in Southeast after a ceiling-splitting worship jam from the talented Matthew Zigenis at Bridgetown Church, there has been no money spent at all on food this week.

I am lucky enough to know — and take advantage of– the wonderful folks at a local bakery who give me their day-old breads in exchange for coffee. I never have a shortage of thick, fresh, crusty loaves within reach. This is the springboard for every wonderful sandwich and toast imaginable.

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Pie, made with the fresh apples from the tree in the backyard. Also, arts and crafts day with the roommate. We are working on floral wreaths.

I am remembering with startling familiarity how wonderful it is to cook, elbow-deep in something crafty, tasty and new.

Plus, it’s cheaper. My wonderful fella and I are trying to hit up some overseas countries for some crazy Jesus-loving missions work in the next few months and are saving every penny possible to get there. Eating deliciously seems an easy way to do so– its hardly a sacrifice at all.

We’ve even gone so far as to build campfires and construct gourmet ramen noodles with one kettle and some random ingredients.

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Gourmet fire ramen. 

Here’s to the friendly reminder that food doesn’t come from grocery stores. Food doesn’t come from restaurants. Food doesn’t come from well-meaning companies that send gift boxes.

Food comes from the earth, and it’s delicious that way.

 

Campfire Setup

If you’re in Portland right now, you know. It’s hot outside. It’s 100 degrees, which means coffee shops across town are running low on cold brew and the fan aisle of Walmart looks like the apocalypse struck.

It’s time to leave town and go camping.

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Recently, I made the best purchase of the season. I bought a camping cookstove that hooks up directly to a propane tank. It’s small, durable, travel-friendly and, most importantly, heats evenly.

Hand in hand with its soulmate, a cast iron skillet, camping just took on a whole new level of outdoor cooking confidence.

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By no means should you bail on building a fire or cooking on it, but if speed and efficiency are your game, you should consider a similar hookup. (Any outdoor sports store has ya covered.)

So what did I cook with my new, fancy gear? I’ll be honest, I didn’t exactly reach for any stars. I made egg-in-a-hole, and it tasted delicious. Something about that mountain air.

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Step one. Lay out your gear. Never travel without your skillet, some cooking oil and some salt. (Pepper optional.)

The only additions to this truly minimalist setup were a loaf of bread and a carton of eggs.

Step two. Put that pan on the burner and warm it up. Grease thoroughly with oil.

Step three. Use any possible device (I used the lid of my Pam spray) to punch a hole in the bread, cookie-cutter style. Place bread in pan and let toast. If it doesn’t sizzle when it hits the pan, your skillet isn’t hot enough.

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Step four. Crack that egg right in that hole. Please note the (clean) hiking sock used as a pan handle and take my word of advice: buy a pot handle sleeve or bring a towel, those babies get too hot to touch. Or be ghetto, like me, and use a sock or something.

Season with salt and pepper, then flip your toast as gracefully as possible to cook the opposite side. If your yolk breaks or you make a mess, tell your camping party that you are serving a ‘rustic-style’ breakfast and that they have no other choice but to eat it and marvel at your authenticity.

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Remove from pan and serve.

Eat, enjoy, and pack up your things for a hike. You’re in the great outdoors! Go enjoy them.

 

Hop the Fence, Have Adventures

We got outside the other day. Phones down, boots laced, we headed towards the coast where the misty sunshine called. Part of an attempt to step away from social media and live like hermits, adventures have begun to feature more prominently in our daily lives.

It’s true, what they say. Stopping the car to jump out and take a picture of a mountain for Instagram isn’t the same as climbing the mountain. The adventures you hear on the internet aren’t nearly as intriguing as the ones people keep to themselves.

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I invested in a pair of Danner hiking boots (and proceeded to dye, treat and lace my own shoelaces thanks to my very invested leatherworking boyfriend) and have since found it’s impossible to stick to the trail. One of our favorite things to do is hop the fence entirely and go where we aren’t allowed.

I don’t recommend this on the most professional level, but let’s be honest. How many adventures happen when you stick to the beaten path?

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The inaugural boot break-in trip went swimmingly, we hiked Mount Hood and found a gigantic swamp near a breathtaking clearwater lake. Of course, this being spring, we found ourselves in the middle of frog mating season. I’ve never heard croaking so loud! The whole forest was ringing with the creaks and groans of frogs, and the still-snowy ground was littered in clear, gelatinous eggs. Each egg had a tiny tadpole forming in the center. It was disgustingly fascinating.

But I must admit, Cannon Beach is my favorite spot to escape to. The big volcanic rocks are beautiful and rugged. The mist wraps around them like a dame’s fur coat and are gorgeously foreboding. Every picture I’ve taken is flawless; it’s as though the coastline doesn’t have a bad angle.

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Anyway, since summer is around the corner, why not try lacing up your hiking boots, too, and seeing where you end up?

I recommend the following:

  • Bring snacks
  • Bring a camera (if you want)
  • Dare yourself not to post any proof of your miraculous adventures online (be old school and write it down in a notebook if you think you’ll forget details)
  • Keep your adventure boots in the car so you’re always ready
  • Ignore most fences, don’t be afraid to take risky routes
  • Pack water and first aid
  • Climb things
  • Use common sense
  • Collect cool objects
  • Just get out there. And make it a habit!
  • Share your best adventures around a campfire
  • (Learn how to start a campfire)

 

Coffee Tours: Slate Coffee Roasters, Seattle, WA

Slate Coffee Roasters is every barista’s dream.

“Open 7 – Close.” reads the sign propped in front of its tiny, 6th Ave location. The space inside is small, minimalist, appropriately slate grey.

The heart, soul and center of the shop is gleaming Slayer espresso machine, sparkling like a new Christmas toy.

“Hello!” the friendly barista for the afternoon with her perfectly rimmed glasses, crisp white button-up tucked into black high-waisted shorts, smiles with confident professionalism. She knows where she is and what she is serving. She is the master of her profession. “Drinking here?”

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Following immediately are glasses of water and menus, as table-service coffee materializes. The menu, although plain and simple, black and white, needs explaining. Familiar terms like ‘latte’ and ‘cappuccino’ are nowhere to be found.

“Everyone has a different idea of what a latte is,” she explains without prompting. “Here, we keep it simple and refer to it as what it is. Espresso plus milk. We offer four ounces, six ounces or eight ounces of milk with each double shot.”

Skimming the menu further, she continues, “We do not have any drip coffee at this particular location, but will happily do a pourover for you should you prefer.”

After placing an order, returning the menu and waiting momentarily, the coffee appears. It is as it should be: an artistic centerpiece.

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Were I to have any detrimental coffee comment to add to this experience, it would be the mound of foam atop the final macchiato. I was disappointed that there was no creamy microfoam to do the milk justice (but will attribute it to the fact our barista probably milk-shared to make two orders and I assume I received the tail-end of the pour.)

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The most popular item at Slate Coffee is a deconstructed milk drink. Served in small flutes, a single shot of espresso and a scant few ounces of steamed milk sit separately, side-by-side. The last flute holds the two together in what would technically be referred to as a macchiato.

The hope is to show the drinker the importance of each component before enjoying them together in a tiny symphony of thick, vanilla-cream milk and rich espresso.

The milk, of course, is local and non-homogenized. Buttery, rich and fatty, it results in creamy texture that has the natural viscosity of a melted vanilla shake. This milk is pure and sweet and heavenly. Matt Perger would beam with pride.

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I will warn you that if you’re looking for an in-and-out coffee experience, Slate is not for you. Slate is for savoring and appreciating coffee as culture, not for slugging 16-oz lattes as fuel. Any other shop in the world will offer that experience; Slate politely declines.

(They will, however, happily explain their menu in detail. Please ask them questions, they live for it.)

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My personal experience featured the Chelbasa Ethiopian espresso, a natural processed coffee from the Gideo region of Ethiopia. It tasted like bakers chocolate and cherry cordial with a lingering aftertaste reminiscent of licking the bowl after making chocolate covered strawberries. In short, it was one of the best espressos I have ever encountered. It had me re-evaluating my life choices to better center them around better coffee stewardship.

Of course, in a shop with a shiny gold EK43 and a Slayer at the helm, anything less would be underwhelming. It is certainly good to know, however, that some barista in Washington State is living my dream.

The myths are true: coffee here is nothing short of perfection.


Check them out HERE or give them a visit!

5413 6th Ave NW, Seattle, WA

1309 NE 45th St, Seattle, WA

602 2nd Ave, Seattle, WA


Side note: Seattle is awesome. See adventures below.

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Main & Vine

When my alarm pierced the air at 4:00 am on Wednesday morning, I was fairly unprepared for a long, two-hour haul to the grocery store.

I can now tell you with the utmost enthusiasm, it was worth it.

Now before you wonder why I was out of my mind enough to hit the highway before sunrise for the sake of a shopping cart, let me set the stage. This Wednesday, February 3rd, was the grand opening of the flagship grocery store, Main & Vine.

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In the heart of Gig Harbor, Washington, in a beautifully repurposed QFC, is now a bright, friendly neighborhood grocery boasting local artisan products alongside recognizable brands. Hoping to bring a warm community center to the town, Main & Vine brings everyone together around the thing we all love most: food.

Unlike traditional store layouts, fresh produce and prepared foods took center stage, anchored by the store’s ‘sweet spot’ – an operating kitchen demoing a meal, highlighting what’s for dinner.

It was busy. Bustling with eager local shoppers and a veritable army of excited executives and employees, it was easy to see that this was a project of time, effort and love that the team was thrilled to share. And there were plenty of happy folks to share it with. Navigating the parking lot alone was like playing Tetris in a minivan. Shoppers pushed full carts up and down the aisles and cars tucked into parking spots in rapid succession.

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Big balloons and swinging jazz lit up the entrance. Immediately my sleepy, drive-tired mood was replaced with a tingle of excitement. Is there anything more fun than watching a community light up over food culture?

(Of course, I’m sure the coffee played a good part in my excitement. Cutter’s Point, a local Washington roaster and coffee company, is featured here, slingin’ lattes to the happy, hungry masses.)

To be truthful, I didn’t know where to begin. Everything had the enchantment of new, charming excitement to it. I had an empty shopping cart in front of me, begging to be filled.

Drawn to the breads, pastries and gleaming deli counter, I forayed into the fray. I was impressed—although there was approachable familiarity to all of the store’s features, there were unique and intriguing displays that made me grin. The bagel display, for instance, had me at hello.

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The deli counter was also impressive. I’ve found myself pleasantly surprised at how knowledgeable those behind the counter were.

I was handed sample upon sample of paper-thin prosciutto and hearty salami, courtesy of local charcuterie purveyor Olympia Provisions (of which I am already a huge fan.)

The prosciutto pictured below, by the way, was awesome. Sliced as thinly as possible on razor-sharp equipment, it only proved that early morning is a very acceptable time to enjoy cured meats.

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Maybe I’m in the small percentile of crazy gastronomes, but brand-new food features always suit my fancy. (I woke up before dawn to drive to a grand opening of a grocery store. Take it for what it’s worth.) But let me impress my excitement upon you once more for what ultimately was my favorite experience.

Side note: if you’re not in the Pacific Northwest and can only envision what I’m talking about, cross your fingers that someday a Main & Vine will open near you. If you are a PNW local, next time you’re hitting up Seattle, make a slight southern detour.

But I digress.

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The seafood counter was busy and brimming with smiling people, customers and employees alike. But as far as I’m concerned, it was the feature just a yard or two away from the iced glass of the fresh seafood that caught my eye.

A large, waist-high cooler, slotted with sliding handles, held an assortment of flash-frozen seafood and sides. Small bay scallops, shrimp in pesto, creamy risotto, and five-grain sides all stood at perfect attention, equipped with small scoops to fill the waiting pile of plastic to-go containers. Essentially a frozen bulk-foods style approach to premade meals, these seafood options were nitro-frozen, eliminating the need to add the usual frozen food preservatives.

It is, in my opinion, an awesome way to stock up on dinners (or sides) for the week, ready to eat in forward, cook-from-frozen simplicity.

Even better, they taste really good. As a premade food skeptic, I reserved all judgement until I could prove their worth over my stove later that night and was actually incredibly surprised.

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By the time I made my way through the massive lines, my cart was laden with all of my favorite things.

Prosciutto, thin and silky.

Salami (several kinds.)

Cheese. Lots of cheese, most of it local.

Unhomogenized milk from Washington’s Twin Brook Creamery, classically bottled in glass, thick cream waiting on top.

Honeycrisp apples larger than both fists put together.

Marbled steak. Raw local honey. Mandarins with stems. Daisies wrapped in brown paper.

I may have gone a little crazy.

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Of course, putting these things to the test is the true mark of a successful shopping trip. I returned home to fill my kitchen with a bounty of fruits and flowers.

And then, of course, I did what I do best. I started cooking.

Without further ado, let me pass along my sweet and simple takeaway from this excursion!


 

Honey Nectarine & Olive Oil Crumble

Ingredients:

3-5 large stone fruits (In my case, nectarines, although plums and peaches are also great options)

2 T raw honey IMG_0266

1 1/2 t sugar

1/4 c water

1 1/2 c flour

1/4 c sugar

1/2 c olive oil

dash vanilla

Instructions:

  1. In a small bowl, combine flour, sugar, oil and vanilla. Mix (preferably by hand or in a food processor) until it all comes together. The result should be crumbly and slightly sandy, but able to form a nice crumbled texture. If you’re having trouble getting the dough to stick together, add a few IMG_0273tablespoons of water at a time until desired texture is reached.
  2. In a small saucepan heat diced fruit, honey, sugar and water. Bring to a simmer and let thicken until fruit is soft and syrupy.
  3. Remove from heat. Pour fruit mix evenly into one large pan (a pie dish will do nicely) or several small tins.
  4. Top evenly with crumble.
  5. Bake at 375 for 8-15 minutes until crumble has turned golden. Remove, let cool.
  6. Serve and enjoy!

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Interested in checking it out? Visit Main & Vine here:

5010 Point Fosdick Dr NW, Gig Harbor, WA, 98335

mainandvineshop.com

or on Instagram

 

And check out the full gallery experience here!

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