A week or two ago I was looking for something simple to do with fresh local clams, and found this beautiful, very easy Galician soup. The secret seems to be the broth of sauteed and simmered shrimp shells, which gives a wonderful depth and flavor to the soup. There are all sorts of variations that could be made with this (greens? potatoes! fish of all sorts!), but it really was nice with the clams and shrimp, seasoned with sweet onions, fennel, bay and paprika. It’s a great excuse to eat fresh bread. With, say, green olive butter smeared all over it. For example.

Caldo de Pescado (Galician seafood soup)

Adapted from Casa Moro by Sam and Sam Clark

• 1/2 pound large shrimp, shells on
• olive oil
• 1 large tomato, quartered
• 2 sprigs fresh thyme
• 1/2 tsp fennel seeds
• 2 quarts water
• 1 pound clams or mussels
• 2 onions, thinly sliced
• 3 garlic cloves
• 3 bay leaves
• 2 tsp paprika
• 1/2 tsp hot smoked paprika
• 40 threads saffron (a large pinch), soaked in 6 Tbsp boiling water
• 1/2 cup basmati rice
• 2 Tbsp chopped parsley
• salt and pepper

Shell the shrimp and put the meat back in the fridge, reserving the shells. Heat 4 Tbsp of olive oil in a saucepan and add the shrimp shells, frying until they turn pink and begin to smell good. Add the tomato, thyme, fennel seed and water and simmer 20 minutes. Set aside (I might mash the tomato up a little at this point, for extra flavor).

In a soup pot, heat another 4 Tbsp of olive oil and add the onion. Cook on medium with a pinch of salt until the onions are soft and golden, about 15 minutes. Add the garlic and bay and cook a minute more, then add the paprikas, saffron infusion, rice, and half of the parsley, then strain the reserved prawn stock into the pot. Bring to a boil and simmer 10-15 minutes, until the rice is cooked. Add the clams and cook just until they all open (discard any that refuse to open), then stir in the shrimp and the rest of the parsley. Simmer just long enough for the shrimp to cook through, and serve.

So when we were at The Swinery the other day we just couldn’t resist buying a piece of dry chorizo. There was no question as to what we would do with it – Portuguese clams and sausage!

I had a little trouble finding a recipe for clams and chorizo, to my surprise – it’s a fairly common restaurant dish, but it wasn’t in any of my Portuguese or Spanish cookbooks. When I did finally find one (in Bruce Aidells’ Book of Pork) I ended up mostly ignoring it, but I did follow his general idea. I chopped some garlic and sauteed it in olive oil, then added the diced chorizo. I cut up a rather spicy little pepper that I picked from one of my plants and tossed that in along with a good handful of fresh tomatoes (mostly Stupice, with a few Sungold and Sweet Million). Some chopped parsley and a sprig of thyme, also from my garden, then a half glass of white wine and some chicken stock to make a nice broth.

When all that had come to a good sprightly bubble, I put in the clams and let them open, stirring gently to make sure they all came in contact with the other flavors. It was particularly charming how the clamshells collected little piles of sausage and pepper and tiny tomatoes. With a few pieces of Breadfarm potato bread to soak up the broth and a glass of chilled Verdejo, this was a dinner I’d be delighted to eat in any restaurant.

If you haven’t been to the Bivalve Bash at the Taylor Shellfish Farm on Samish Bay, you’re missing out on one of the best summer parties around. We went last year, but I didn’t do a post as my camera battery died halfway through. This year we took some shellfish-loving friends and a camera with a fresh battery and had a fabulous time.

We saw the kids’ Mud Run.

We toured the Oyster Shell Sculpture Contest.

Jon entered the Oyster Shucking Contest, and placed third (and got to keep a rather nice oyster knife). And the rest of us got to eat the oysters.

We ate Kumamotos, Shigokus and Pacifics, both raw and barbecued…

…and curried mussels from Xinh’s in Shelton (absolutely incredible, these are)…

…and steamed clams from the Rhododendron Cafe…

…and fry bread and beer and raspberry shortcake and more oysters, while sitting happily in a mix of sun and shade in the beer garden on a perfect summer day, listening to music and the shrieks of the people betting on the crab races.

The point of the Bivalve Bash isn’t just to soak in the sun, eat oysters and get muddy, although those are all great reasons to go. It’s meant to be an educational event promoting awareness of the importance of clean water and the ecology of shellfish-growing areas. But that doesn’t mean you can’t have fun at the same time.

I believe next year some of us are going to try for the Mud Run. Anyone care to join us?

Do you like beer and fries? How about mussels? Or single malt Scotch? If any of the above catch your eye, Brouwer’s is the place you’ve been dreaming of.

Located in an unlikely building that looks like a cross between a castle and a warehouse (and feels that way on the inside, too), Brouwer’s is a Belgian-inspired bar and restaurant in the Center of the Universe (otherwise known as Fremont to you non-Seattleites). We’ve gone many times (as have my parents) and are constantly blown away by the length of the beer list, the quality of the fries, and the astonishing tastiness of the merguez lamb burger.

On Halloween we stopped in for lunch, and as usual the place was deserted. I assume the bar fills up at night when the hipsters come out of the woodwork, but every time we’ve ever been there for lunch it’s been echoingly empty. And nearly pitch black, except for the odd tubular skylight. We sat ourselves in a dim booth against the craggy rock wall and amused ourselves with the drinks list (it has over 60 types of Scotch, not to mention a staggering number of bottled beers). As usual, I recognized almost nothing on the beer draft list and had to ask for suggestions – I ended up with an Elliott Bay Seasonal, the Hop Von Boorian I believe. Jon got a Boundary Bay dry Irish stout, which we haven’t seen around lately and is always excellent.

As usual, one of us had to get the lamb burger. It may be the best lamb burger in the entire universe. Don’t believe me? Here’s the description: 8oz patty ground in-house with spicy Merguez seasonings, topped with julliened roasted red peppers, chipotle mayo, and fresh mozzarella. Served on a fresh baked roll. Hoo yeah.

I had mussels there for the first time on this visit (I usually get derailed by the fish and chips, which are astounding). Moules frites being a classic Belgian dish, Brouwer’s offers three different versions on their current menu. I got the “winter mussels,” which were bathed in a cream sauce full of sausage and cilantro and I’m not sure what else. It was dark in there. They were tasty. In any case, I loved the presentation of the mussels, served in a large pot with a shell discard bowl fitted into it and a plate of frites perched on top. It felt like an occasion.

The mussels themselves were as high quality as anything I’ve ever eaten – fresh, plump and perfectly cooked. One order plus a salad would be plenty for lunch for two people (assuming your companion can be talked out of the lamb burger).

And the fries? They are, truly, astonishing. Every waitress I’ve talked to at Brouwer’s admits that she has a terrible time working around those fries every single day. They are just SO GOOD. Hie thee to Brouwer’s and try some, see if you don’t agree.

For some reason I was in the mood for clams last weekend. When I began delving into cookbooks to look for some new ideas, I stumbled across the exact same recipe in both 1080 Recipes and Casa Moro. Clams and white beans: so simple, but two ingredients I had never thought of combining. We brought back a bag of fresh clams from Taylor Shellfish after our walk on Sunday, and we were good to go.

I went with the Moro recipe, since it seemed a little more interesting, but it’s still not a complicated dish. Saute garlic in wine, add cooked white beans, saffron and parsley, add clams, done. I made it a little more work by using fresh cannellini beans, bought in the pod from Dunbar Gardens, but shelling beans is a very peaceful and philosophical activity – preferably with the aid of good music and a tasty beverage.

Once the beans were done, the dish took no time at all to put together. The flavors worked well, with the saltiness of the clams providing much of the seasoning; the saffron just creates a warm undertone. We ate it with pieces of baguette with plenty of soft Golden Glen salted butter, some cooked greens, and a Côtes de Gascogne white wine. The broth in the bottom of the bowl was the best part.

Traditionally this is served as a tapa, and it would definitely make a great appetizer, with just a few clams on a plate with a bite of bread. I could see making this as a starter for a Spanish-themed dinner party, to go with cocktails.

Almejas con Habichuelas (Clams and White Beans)

adapted from Casa Moro by Sam & Sam Clark

• 1/2 pound white beans (dry or fresh)
• 2 pounds clams, scrubbed and rinsed
• 2 cloves garlic, chopped
• 4 Tbsp olive oil
• 30 threads saffron (a good pinch), soaked in 3 Tbsp hot water
• 2 Tbsp parsley, chopped
• 1/2 cup white wine or sherry

If using fresh beans:

Shell the beans, put them into a saucepan and cover with cold water. Add a clove or two of garlic and a bay leaf if you’d like. Bring to a boil, then cover and turn down to a simmer. Let cook until tender, about 30-40 minutes.

If using dried beans:

Rinse the beans and pick them over for odd, un-beany bits. Cook the same way as you would fresh beans, but let them simmer for two hours (give or take a bit depending on the freshness of the beans).

Now: drain the beans. I used the bean broth to cook kale, but don’t feel obliged to save it. Heat olive oil in a wide skillet and add the chopped garlic. When it begins to turn golden, add the wine and cook down briefly. Then add the beans, saffron (and its liquid), half the parsley, and the clams. Simmer until the clams open – discard any that remain stubbornly clammed up – stir in the rest of the parsley and serve.

After a rather tough week at work, I felt that I had earned a little blowout for our Friday night dinner. My husband aided and abetted by driving up to Taylor Shellfish after work and picking up a bag of fresh oysters, then compounding his wonderfulness by also stopping by Slough Food for manchego and sopressata. I came home on a sultry afternoon to a cold flute of muscadet and good cheese and salumi. The perfect antidote to a long, mostly booze-free week.

After soaking in the fragrance of the lilacs and daphnes on the porch, we moved inside and had a “counter dinner”. I laid out everything we needed on the kitchen island, we pulled up stools and poured fresh glasses of wine, and began.

Jon used our mandoline to shave the manchego into feather-thin slices, then did the same with the fennel. I whisked together a dressing of fresh lemon juice, olive oil, mayonnaise, salt, pepper and some chopped fennel fronds, and tossed it into the fennel and cheese.

We (or rather, Jon) shucked the oysters, eating as we went, alternating with bites of fennel salad directly out of the bowl, and occasionally chasing an oyster with a slice of sopressata or a piece of buttered bread. The wine went down easily. It felt like Friday.

We don’t usually go to chain restaurants (although I’m well acquainted with the appeal of an Egg McMuffin), but a friend gave us a coupon to Anthony’s that needed to be used during March. I’d only been to an Anthony’s restaurant once, in Richland, and wasn’t thrilled by the experience, but we figured they’d at least have oysters and booze, and if we didn’t like it we could have dinner elsewhere. Much to our surprise, we had a great time.

Anthony’s restaurants are always built on the waterfront. Bellingham has the closest franchise to us, on the marina just north of downtown. We went on a Tuesday night just before sunset, and the place was packed (hello, economic downturn?) Fortunately, we had no trouble getting a decent table. The view wasn’t so much of water as it was of boat masts, but I sure don’t have a problem with that – I like boats.

We started out with the oyster sampler and a bottle of Chinook sauvignon blanc (a lovely crisp wine made by nice people with cute dogs – you needed to know that, right?). The platter came heaped with ice, an Asian-flavor vinaigrette, cocktail sauce, lemons, and an oyster each of Kumomoto, Otter Cove, Chelsea Gem, Virginica, Olympia and two Barron Points. All were perfectly fresh with a wonderful crispness. The shucking was decent, although we did end up eating a few odd bits of shell. We followed up the sampler with another platter of just the Otter Coves, which were simultaneously cheap and fantastic – they had the same cool melon finish as the Kumomotos, and were lovely with a small squeeze of lemon.

After polishing off the oysters and a basket of warm sourdough bread, we settled for splitting an entree of Alaskan rockfish. It was perfectly done, drenched in beurre blanc, and served with very nicely cooked broccoli (also drenched in butter) and some pleasant rice pilaf with sultanas and almonds. Salads were edible, as well: a Caesar salad (bereft of anchovies, alas) and a spinach salad with bacon and a creamy dill dressing. I took pictures, but they didn’t come out so good – forgot to set the macro button. So you’ll have to settle for another shot of the marina, which looked extremely charming as the sun went down and the waitstaff pulled up the blinds.

Over all, it was a very nice evening. The food was treated well, the wine list had some good local choices and the prices were fair, and our waitress was very good-natured about our deliberately slow ordering. Not so bad. We might even go back sometime!

It was midmorning on Saturday that we realized there was nothing in the house for lunch. Well, apart from peanut butter and sardines. So I volunteered to trot down the hill to the co-op and see what looked edible. It was snowing, but not too hard, and it’s not a bad walk as long as I don’t try to carry anything too heavy back up the hill.

So I peeked into the meat case and saw these gorgeous dry-pack sea scallops – they were enormous and very fresh, so I snagged a package. Then, on my way to cruise the cheese case, my eye was caught by a pack of prosciutto. Lunch seemed to be taking shape rapidly. When I checked out, the cashier commented that I was the second person that morning who was obviously going to be having prosciutto-wrapped scallops, based on the groceries that had passed down her belt. Great minds think alike?

When I got home, I patted the scallops dry and pulled the muscle off, then wrapped a single sheet of prosciutto around each one. Unlike bacon, it clung to itself beautifully and didn’t need to be pinned in place. I tossed them into a nonstick skillet and seared until the prosciutto was crispy, just a minute or two.

We had some leftover redleaf lettuce from a previous night, and I shook up a dressing of olive oil, balsamic vinegar and mustard, then tossed it all up well and plated the salad. The hot scallops went on top. Quick, delicious and festive for lunch on a snowy March day.

This past month we’ve been trying something new – Bikram yoga. Two or three times a week we voluntarily put ourselves in a very hot room and twist ourselves into postures that leave us unbelievably sore, with a tendency to sleep ten hours a night (not that we generally get to). The drawback (for those of us obsessed with food) is that you can’t come home after nine hours of work and 90 minutes of hot yoga and expect to have time or digestive power for an exciting, complex or heavy dinner. Or alcohol. As a result, we’ve been expanding our repertoire of fried rices and other things that can be processed in the morning, then dumped in a hot wok and promptly inhaled alongside a pot of green tea. A few pounds have been lost, let me tell you.

This dish is a nice alternative to a straight stir fry or fried rice. I first got the idea from Nigella Lawson’s How to Eat, in which she admits her fondness for an enormous plate of buckwheat soba mixed with wilted beet greens. I don’t think I would have ever tried it, except that we often seem to have leftover beet greens in the house and I was feeling desperate one day for something besides bean soup to use them in. We discovered that we absolutely love the combination – the earthy greens with the equally earthy buckwheat noodles are amazingly good together – and we also discovered that sea scallops make a great topping. Now it’s one of our favorite quick lunches when we’ve bought beets at the farmer’s market. And it makes a great after-yoga meal: fast, fun and actually good for you!

Buckwheat soba with beet greens and scallops

serves two

• two bundles buckwheat soba
• canola oil
• one bunch beet greens, well washed and roughly chopped
• a spoonful of soy sauce
• a drizzle of rice vinegar
• 1/2 pound sea scallops, patted dry and lightly salted

Bring a large saucepan full of water to the boil; add the soba and cook until just done, about 5 minutes (check the cooking instructions on the package, they vary a lot). Drain, rinse with cold water and set aside.

Heat a wok over the highest possible heat. Swirl some oil into the wok, then add the beet greens. Make sure nobody in the room has a cat on their lap – they tend to panic at the resulting explosion. Stirfry the greens until completely wilted, then add the noodles. Season with the soy sauce and rice vinegar, toss thoroughly, and turn off the heat.

In a medium nonstick skillet, heat a drizzle of oil over med-high heat. Add the scallops and leave alone for a minute, then flip with tongs to brown the reverse side. I like my scallops a bit rare, but follow your own taste.

Pile noodles and greens on plates, top with scallops, eat.

Well, this was the big birthday weekend, and I do believe we did it up right. In honor of my birthday, my aunt’s birthday, my father’s 60th birthday and my parents’ upcoming 40th anniversary, we hired our friend Knut Christiansen of Paellaworks catering to come out and cook up a paella for us and about thirty friends and neighbors. Despite the annoyingly autumnal weather (wind AND rain, sheesh), everything went beautifully.

My parents put together this contraption for the paella pan – Knut said it was the best fire setup he’d ever used. The great thing about the metal rails was the way the pan could be slid onto the fire and off again. There was plenty of good fruitwood to burn, too.

The paella was built up gradually over the course of the afternoon. We all stood around and watched and got in the way while eating olive bread from the Anjou Bakery (thanks, Heather & Kevin!) and a wonderful goat cheese/pear/butter mixture that Knut had brought.

The first thing to go in was the chorizo, to render all that good pork fat into the pan. Hempler’s, of course – our personal favorite.

Next went in many, many chicken legs into the pan, to fry in the sausage fat.

Then some peppers…

Once the chicken was cooked, Knut arranged the pieces around the edge of the pan (although there were too many to fit, so some were set aside until later).

This is the rice going into the pan. Knut uses arborio, rather than bomba – it sounds like it’s very similar in its ability to soak up broth while maintaining its form and texture.

The rice was stirred up thoroughly and sauteed in all the good stuff in the pan, before the addition of stock, which was a mixture of chicken and smoked duck. Saffron went in at some point here, but I missed it.

Once the stock is in, all stirring stops, to let a good crust develop on the bottom. From this point, things were added to the top of the paella: lemon slices, olives, crushed tomatoes, cherry tomatoes…and finally shellfish.

Knut had stopped at Taylor Shellfish on his way down, and had some beautiful prawns, clams and mussels, as well as these incredibly gorgeous singing scallops. I don’t think I had ever eaten scallops from the shell before – they were delicious.

Some fresh basil…

Also wax beans, sliced zucchini, grated zucchini…eventually, the paella was declared done!

It was served with a fresh green salad with raspberries and blueberries, and a pear vinaigrette…

and we had a few bottles of wine on hand, as well.

The empty paella pan was shoved to the side and left til morning, while we built up the fire and relaxed. The rain even let up a bit! Now that’s a birthday party.