Left Coast Cowboys

Yes, we are doing our part here on the Sonoma home front. Our enemy is insidious, all but invisible and skilled in taking advantage of our own resources to further his evil plans. Of course, I’m talking about non-Native plant invaders who are encroaching on our little piece of Sonoma paradise. But our defenses are marshalled. At the risk of a pun, I’ll add that we have a Plan. Yes, we are doing our share.

For those of you who have shown up a bit late, let me give you the lay of the land, as it were. When we purchased this land, it had been virtually undeveloped — except maybe for migrating Miwok Indians who used our seasonal creek as a highway (we’ve found their acorn grinding stones and arrowheads.) Some rusty barbed wire at the edge of the property showed that someone at some time pastured some cattle out here. But elderly locals all tell us this area was always “the back of beyond”. Younger Sonoma residents say this was where they came to drink, smoke pot and make out. The result is a forty acre patch of Sonoma that is almost entirely undisturbed. That means a wide variety of native vegetation and animals — even including a stand of 500 year old Redwood trees that, by all rights, probably shouldn’t even be this far from the coast, and an increasing population of threatened Tree Frogs, who have now grown in significant enough numbers to comprise a veritable Amphibian Mormon Tabernacle Choir.

Why We Fight: Checker Lily, Mission Bells or Fritillaria affinis

Why We Fight: Milk Maids or Cardamine californica.

Why We Fight: Indian Warriors or Pedicularis densiflora

Of course, we want to preserve it all. Seems easy. But it’s frightening how fast you can compromise a pristine environment, even if you think you are in preservation mode. First mistake, when the vineyard was put in three or four years ago, we allowed hay bales and straw “snakes” to be brought in for erosion control. Big mistake. Apparently, if you aren’t a careful buyer, these things can harbor all sorts of alien seeds and invasive plants that then take over. And they’ve started their march down the swales and water drainage areas. Apparently we should have specified rice bales, which are not native, but can’t possibly survive in Sonoma once the weather heats up. Next mistake, allowing mustard to be planted as a fallow season crop in the vineyards. Apparently, this plant multiplies faster than Aliens. We now need to plan our strategy for eradicating the mustard.

We're doing it for the critters. Although deer aren't endangered, they've got a clean, well-lighted place to graze here.

I should digress here for a John the Baptist Nature Lesson. Again, if you are showing up late, John the Baptist is our trails man, plant guru and freelance forest spirit. With his trusty lieutenants, Louis and Jesus, he speaks for the plants. Many readers of this blog have written, after reading about our efforts, to ask “Why do you make it sound like Natives are so weak they can’t survive as well as invasive species?” I put that question to John, and here’s his answer: “Natives exist in their landscape in a balance. They have enemies and predators and plants that keep them from overpopulating. Certain non-Natives have no native enemies and they just run wild, choking out all the Native plants.”

So we’ve brought out the Big Guns for the Armageddon of the Vineyards. This year is Blitzkreig. We’re even resorting to selective spraying of Round-Up to kill back some of the invasives that already have a foothold. The marketing information says that this particular formulation dissolves into inert ingredients in three months and doesn’t affect the groundwater. John says he doesn’t believe a thing Monsanto says. But, you’ll see the measure of desperation here. Unfortunately, this is John’s Guantanamo and he’s willing to sanction extreme measures to even the odds. Tell it to Dick Cheney, John!

John the Baptist and Jesus armed for chemical warfare on invasives.

Oscar does his bit with more natural herbicides.

Even shy Lucy Terrier got into the act by killing a gopher...which she promptly gave to her new boyfriend, Jesus.

After this year’s Shock and Awe, we’re hoping that we’ll only have about a 5% recurrance next year. With quick burning and pulling before germination, we should be able to reduce the non-natives in the year after next to about 1% ressurgance. And so it goes.

We're keeping Sonoma safe for Wavyleaf Ceanothus.

Neil Young told us that “Rust Never Sleeps”. Ditto for non-Natives. But we’re at the barricades and we won’t be stopped. With a British husband, it’s now appropriate to misquote Winston Churchill:

“We shall fight in the swales. We shall fight at the creekside. We shall fight in the vineyards. We will never surrender.”

I won’t say we’ve done everything right here at Two Terrier Vineyards. But we were blessed to be able to get hold of the ecological version of a blank slate. Then careful budgeting and perhaps a lack of ambition kept us from making irreparable mistakes. Our idea of landscaping was not so much planting things as building stuff out of the thousands of rocks that covered the property. Luckily, by the time we got done having retaining walls, stairs, a bocce court, an amphitheater and other things built, we had learned enough about this unique plot of land mostly to leave well enough alone. One of the exciting things about our land is that it’s never been developed, so it’s never been exposed to the meddling of traditional landscapers. In fact, the area was the scene of a pretty devastating fire about thirty years ago and, in the aftermath, was covered with an almost impenetrable covering of mesquite and weeds. That kept out most of the invasive species that people around here have traditionally planted. Things like Eucalyptus, Himalayan Blackberry and non-native grasses. Not that we didn’t plant some non-natives like Rhone grapes, olives and lavender, but at least they aren’t invasive. In fact, it’s hard enough to keep them healthy that there’s no fear they are going to crowd out the locals.

I thought this Houndstongue was an invasive species, but John assures me this is one of the good guys.

Our main “landscaping” has involved cutting back brush and Mesquite just for accessibility. And to keep the whole place from going up like a torch during California’s dry summer since typical California scrub plants have more oil content than the Exxon Valdez. Once we cleared the Mesquite, it was amazing how many California natives rushed in to occupy the space and how fast. I can modestly say that Two Terrier Vineyards is almost like a California Native Botanical Garden. We’ve got Checker Lilies and native Lupines, at least five different types of native Oaks, Madrones, Manzanitas and some wonderful hardy native grasses. Not that it hasn’t been a battle. I tell you, going native is a constant struggle, not the least against our own ignorance.

The pristine native creek -- with redwoods -- that we need to protect.

Case in point: Andy loved the look of the mustard that covers fallow vineyards throughout Napa and Sonoma and asked our vineyard manager to plant some. Which brought our trails guy, John the Baptist, to the point of a massive coronary. Seems mustard is not native and is very invasive. We should have planted some sort of native Lupine to put nitrogen back in the soil. Or at least Fava beans which don’t spread and crowd out the natives. So the next chore here is to plow under the mustard before it gets a foothold.

Our particular concern is protecting the unique ecosystem that is our seasonal creek. That would be the REAL creek, not the glorified drainage ditch that I told you about here. In the former, we have a gully deep enough and, until we bought the land, remote enough that it is home to a stand of 500 year old Redwoods that are vestiges of the Redwood forests that used to cover Sonoma when it was wetter, junglier and dinosaurs roamed the Earth. John the Baptist has impressed on us the urgency of keeping this area pristine. And we’re heeding his warning. Since mustard and other invasives wash down toward that creek, this called for desperate measures.

John the Baptist has morphed from gentle forest spirit to fiery Old Testament Prophet scorching the unworthy with the Lord’s fire. In 2010, that translates to a propane fueled flame-thrower thingy that’s smiting the interlopers before they can invade the pristine wilderness. Don’t like Biblical imagery? How about Johnny Storm from the Fantastic Four? Flame on, Johnny, flame on!

John the Baptist smiting weeds with the Lord's Fury.

Think that’s the end of it? Not hardly. We had straw bales brought in for flood control a few years ago. Seems, if you don’t specify a certain kind, you get bales filled with seeds, especially of the invasive kind. So a particularly invasive thistle seed has been leaching out of those bales and working its way down the hill. Now, luckily, to be stopped by John and his fiery weapon of destruction.

Landscaping, to misquote Pat Benatar, is a battlefield. Luckily, we’ve got John the Baptist and his crew doing the Lord’s Work.

Earlier this week, I braved a rare break in our winter storms to get up to Sonoma and check the progress that John the Baptist and Louis have made in our trails and vulnerable flood areas. After last year’s storms, the rains that filled our seasonal creek, in addition to a number of felled trees, caused massive erosion. John and Louis swore it wouldn’t happen again. They’ve been busy for weeks with straw bales and logs and rocks to shore up banks, build run-off channels and divert rainwater from flood-prone areas. After bushwhacking down our most vulnerable trail, I have to say, there’s nothing Mother Nature can throw at us that John and Louis haven’t built defenses against. Not that Mother Nature would want to thwart John and Louis. She’s never looked this good in our neck of the woods. And every lady of a certain age certainly appreciates a little cosmetic help.

For instance, look at this lovely sylvan scene. Untouched Nature at its best, no? NO. This area has had more work by experts than Cher’s face. But the results are equally impressive.

Artful arranging of rocks, wire-screened underwater breakwaters and felled trees have resulted in this beautifully channeled waterway.

C'mon. This is like a Hollywood set. Don't you just expect Jeremiah Johnson to ride through here?

Last year, this whole bank eroded. This year, a John and Louis waterfall is channeling the runoff.

As always, I learned tons of things on a John and Louis Nature Walk. For instance, did you know that this foam is perfectly natural? Some sort of protein stirred up when the water is running quickly.

And here I was worried someone was polluting my creek with Joy dishwashing detergent.

John even located a piece of petrified Redwood.

Which I was so excited to see that I couldn't properly focus my camera. Note to self: rephotograph this at a later date.

And let's give Mother Nature a little credit for dressing things up with lovely mosses and ferns.

John and Louis also pointed out some really cool plants that are starting to sprout. But it was too wet to take out my notebook, so I promptly forgot what they are. But I’m assured they are very special.

Hopefully John or another reader will leave a comment identifying this plant. Update: as you can see from the comments, John the Baptist weighed in identifying this as Golden back fern (Pityrogramma).

And this plant, too. Update: Reader Maybelline correctly identified this as a Maidenhair fern. John the Baptist confirms it.

I’d planned to start a Two Terrier Nature Series on this blog, identifying and showcasing our many native plants. But I realize I’m going to have to do a lot better than this. Note to self: carry pens and notebook at all times.

In the meantime, bring on the rain! We’re ready.

One of the things to love about Sonoma is that it isn’t just wine country. In fact, Sonoma County is as much about sustainable, organic agriculture as it is about wine. Whether it’s artisanal goat cheese, grass-fed beef, free range chicken or heirloom vegetables, Sonoma’s got it all. Go to Napa for the glitz and the faux Chateau. Sonoma is all about manure on the boots and dirt under the fingernails.

So I was excited to hear that the town of Sonoma has just been named the first Cittaslow or “Slow City” in the United States by the prestigious (and curmudgeonly) Cittaslow International. Dedicated to preserving traditional and earth-friendly foodways, Cittaslow International has rigorous standards for any potential Slow Cities:

“Prospective Cittaslow members have populations of less than 50,000 and are evaluated in six topic groupings and 54 areas of excellence. These include sustainable agricultural practices, land use and infrastructure, environmental policy, support for local food cultivation and preparation, conservation of traditional artisan products, available hospitality programs, historic preservation, and educational programs for all ages. Also necessary for membership is local involvement participation of the City Council and the local Slow Food chapter.”

But hey, as any of the locals will tell you. Sonoma was Slow before Slow was cool. In fact, generations of teens have called their town “Slow-noma” and not necessarily because of the artisanal produce.

How Slow is Sonoma? Well, it passes my most rigorous test. One of my pet peeves is that, in one of the U.S.’s few lamb-raising regions, so many grocery stores — even those that profess to support sustainable agriculture (Whole Foods, I’m looking at you) — continue to sell only New Zealand lamb. That’s not just bringing coals to Newcastle. That’s burning loads of coal to get coals to Newcastle.

Sonoma is full of farmers like Aldo and Terri Ritz who care deeply about keeping their products organic, heirloom and sustainable. Did I also mention "delicious"?

At my favorite grocery store, Sonoma Market (a family-run supermarket that can teach Whole Foods a thing or two about sourcing locally), I quizzed the butcher on the available lamb chops.

“Which of these chops is sourced locally?”

The butcher fixed me with a steely gaze and answered:

“Depends what you mean by local.”

“Try me.”

“Well, we have lamb from near Point Reyes Station (35 miles away), or this lamb from north of Petaluma (14 miles away). Or we have Farmer XXX’s lamb pastured down near Ernie’s Tin Bar (5 miles away).”

Need more affirmation for Sonoma foodways?

Food Network's irrepressible Guy Fieri is in Sonoma today filming Matt over at The Schellville Grill.

Food Network’s Guy Fieri is at one of my favorite diners, The Schellville Grill, to profile owner/chef Matt Nagan’s Buckaroo Sandwich and Smoked Tri-Tip Sandy for Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives. You know The Schellville Grill. It’s the old wooden place near the Schellville Fire Station (which guarantees the food is good and filling). It’s the place with the hand-lettered sign that says “Come in and give Matt a hug” (which shows you the place has heart).

And last but not least, The Olive Festival is in full swing up here showcasing Sonoma’s “other big crop”. There was something of an upset at Martini Madness, where local bartenders vie for the best and most original variation on the cocktail.

We were rooting for our favorite bartenders from The Girl and The Fig, but Sonoma-Meritage walked off with First Prize for their “Dirty Cougar” which features Hendricks Gin, fresh grapefruit juice,  St Germaine Elderflower liqueur and wildflower honey syrup. In the interest of informing my readers, I’ll have to try one, although I suspect this cocktail honors a certain type of Meritage patron more than it does our own Mountain Lion, Joaquinetta, and her ilk. On the other hand, I’m not sure I’ll be rushing off to try the winner of “Best Olive” category. That was Saddles Restaurant’s torch flamed creme brulee stuffed olive. I can’t even say that sounds “interesting”.

I think I’ve made my point that Sonoma is all about the local agriculture. And I haven’t even gotten into the most hotly contested controversy in town for the past few months: the great coup d’etat that overthrew the previous directorship of the Farmer’s Market on the Plaza. We’ll save that one for another time.

Most of my friends would say I’m a pretty good cook, but I don’t think that begins to describe it. Andy is much more what I’d call a good cook as in the bold, adventurous, “cooking as contact sport” Gordon Ramsay kind of cook. Me? I’m all about the gadgets and the processes. I can improvise, but I want the scientific tests to back me up before I chose a methodology or alter the formula. Yes Gentle Readers, you’ve seen The Mother of All Pressure Canners and shared my frustration with what seem to be lacksadaisical instructions from cookbooks about using it. Somehow I managed to muddle through and make some pretty outstanding tomato marmalade. So good that I’m thinking of following my friend Susi’s suggestion and adding “Win a Blue Ribbon at the Sonoma County Fair” to my Bucket List. I think I have a contenda.

But what I want to talk about today are slow cookers. And yes, once again, I had to buy the best one I could afford. Problem is, finding a cookbook that helps me maximize what I think must be its potential. For the next few weeks, my target are beans. Because a) beans, beans, they’re good for your heart and b) because, at 39¢ to $1.79 per pound, you can make a lot of mistakes with beans before you really start feeling bad about wasting food dollars.

I’ve made beans before in this slow cooker. And Lord knows, I’ve got the Western Hemisphere’s most extensive collection of slow cooker cookbooks. The problem is, if I admit it, I’ve never managed to make beans that taste better than some of the stuff you get in cans. Or, as in the case of the cannellini beans I just made last week, they taste as good, but they are kind of mushy and not all perfect like the canned stuff. But I’m not giving up. So today, I tackled pinto beans or frijoles — those classics of the American Southwest.

Okay, I don’t want to be a finger-pointer here. As the Irish say, “It’s a poor workman who blames his tools.” But some of the fault has to be apportioned to the divided food writer community. No one seems to have a clear consensus on how to cook beans. Here’s what I found when scanning through all my cookbooks.

I've got all the cookbooks and nobody agrees!

There’s the school that says, “Hey, it’s a slow cooker, just dump everything in and Hey Presto!”. I’m rejecting that advice. I’m a victim product of a mother who hated cooking and embraced the old Peg Bracken I Hate to Cook Books. Until my brother and I took the reins and started cooking, our mealtimes were an endless round of a mass of stuff covered with Campbell’s Cream of Mushroom Soup, topped with those orangey crunchy things and lots of hamburger helper. Shudder. Not going back there again. I’ve purged out the cookbooks that share that philosophy. (I say, if you are going to cook, really cook. Otherwise make a salad.)

Then there are the conflicting controversies:

1) Beans should only be cooked on the Low setting.

2) NO! Beans should only be cooked on the High setting.

3) Spice it up before you turn on the crock.

4) Nope, all spices should only go in just before serving.

5) Nothing salty or you’ll toughen the skins.

6) What?! Gotta add stock or it will be bland. Who cares if stock has sodium in it?

7) Don’t need to soak the beans for slow cooking.

8 ) Fool! You ALWAYS need to soak the beans.

Then there are the alleged secret ingredients. A bit of Kombu seaweed. Or something called Epazote or Mexican Tea. I almost embarked on a safari to the Mexican side of Sonoma in search of the elusive herb until I read that, in large quantities, it’s toxic. I quickly reassessed how committed I was to tasty beans

Actually I found what I’m hoping will be my own secret ingredient. Let’s not even get into the controversy about what liquid to cook the beans in. But I did find one cookbook that recommended at least part of the liquid should be beer. Yes, JACKPOT!

My friend Keith has backed an outrageous Scottish Microbrewery, BrewDog. Needless to say, during Keith’s long and illustrious career in what he, with British quaintness, calls “The Drinks Industry”, we’ve always been well stocked with his product. So I could put my hand on just the thing, BrewDog’s Paradox MacCallan.

BrewDog's Paradox is an Imperial Stout (that's hearty dark beer for the uninitiated). They have several flavors, based on the whisky or sherry casks they age it in. This one spent several months in one of the casks used to age MacCallan fine malt whisky.

So I found the recipe that sounded the best because it included steps like blackening Serrano chiles, onions and garlic, then cooking the beans in stock and beer liberally sprinkled with cumin and coriander. (For reference, it was from The Gourmet Slow Cooker by Lynn Alley. Ten Speed Press.)

Of course, into it I added a full bottle of Paradox MacCallan. See, I’m betting the Scottish and the Mexicans have a lot in common. In fact, I’m sure we could find some sort of historical connection — maybe having to do with the Spanish Armada — that proves Scottish Stout is THE KEY INGREDIENT to a good bowl of frijoles.

I know the proof will be in the eating, but barely an hour in the aromas wafting through the kitchen made me think I was really on to something here. Scottish and Mexican. Hmmm. Okay, hear me out. Think of a classic old Western. The wagon trains are rolling through the Southwest. Many of them are driven by the Irish and Scottish. Hey, I have history to back me up here. Where do you think the Teamsters came from? So they get ambushed by Mexican bandits who relieve them of a load of beer destined for the thirsty miners in the gold fields. Mexicans, being a thrifty and industrious people, and preferring their Tequila as a drink, figure out something else to do with the casks of beer. Frijoles. Yes!

Okay, if you aren’t buying this, I do have proof that Buffalo Bill took his Wild West show to Scotland frequently. So there.

Anyway, the only test that matters: the taste. The taste. THE TASTE!

These are beans from Charro Heaven -- by way of Aberdeen.

I’ve been my own worst critic on beans. (‘Cause I’ve always shifted the blame to the cookbook!) But these beans are fabulous. Better than canned. Better than a restaurant. Unbelievable.

What makes it so? A wonderful smokiness. Remember those chiles, garlic and onions the recipe had me broil and char?  Part of it. Then I added two small strips of bacon. Because, well you can’t help but improve anything with bacon. But the largest part of the equation and what I think really underscored everything and brought the tastes together: the dark and slightly peaty flavor of the beer. And that’s not going to be just any beer, Folks, it’s got to be beer aged in whisky casks. It’s got to be BrewDog Paradox. Or back to blaming the cookbook. So thank you, BrewDog. I’m renaming you CervezaPerro.

Ai Yi Yi Yi and Scots Wha Hae. You’ve just proven my point about that Scottish/Mexican connection.