(pescetarian, gluten-free option)

Say you were on holiday in the Pacific Northwest for ten days or so. Say that in the matter of just two of those days, you had traveled through temperate rainforest, desert, mountain snow and coastal sands.

Say too that the region was banking on the fact that in a few years, global warming would turn Napa Valley way too arid for viable vineyards, and so grapes were taking root and vineyards multiplying all over Washington and Oregon. Imagine how ironically sobering this would be, and how it would make your heart stop each time an enthusiastic winemaker would pronounce this prediction. But also imagine the beauty of the vine-embraced landscape, and how certain views also made your heart stop. Nothing is black and white in this world.

Next, imagine that on the outskirts of the desert, just before the climate switched to something more hospitable, you stumbled upon a genuine French fromagerie, where a hundred happy goats and sheep lived and roamed and gave up their milk for chevre, causse noir, larzac and other artisan cheeses. Say it was called Monteillet Fromagierie, this cheese farm, and imagine that a real French boy named Luc (or Jacque or Adrien) was the intern who delicately served up a platter of cheese so rich, sweet, smelly and complex that you almost didn’t recognize it as cheese. Say at that same fromagerie you bought brown eggs that the raucously free-range hens had laid (duck eggs were out of season, alas).

Say, driving along the coast of Oregon, the aftermath of the forest clearcutting was the likes of which you’d only ever seen in a post-nuclear annihilation sci-fi film. You knew it was a serious problem, but seeing it like that, the contiguous acres of lifelessness made you feel as if you were the only person left in the world. Imagine that when a hawk then swooped across the road, its sudden and unexpected vigor rising out of that stark landscape brought your car to a momentary halt, not to mention your heart.

Picture, once you resumed your drive, that the landscapes wove together for miles, the clear cuts followed by lush forests, until finally you were hugging the coast, where the sea’s feisty waves surged against the rocks under an insistently sunny sky. Say the raucous call of the seagulls was inescapable and oddly soothing.

Suppose you’d managed to get ruined in one sitting by a fabulous bowl of smoked salmon chowder, at a restaurant that had a view so beautiful that they could have served up meatloaf and you’d have been thrilled? Imagine that though, gazing out that window, you almost forgot you were there to eat. But then the food arrived, steaming salmon and crispy crab cakes, and it was, perhaps, the best seafood you could recall having eaten.  It’s possible that after that meal, you’d have salmon on the soul.

Next, say fresh salmon, which was making a bit of a comeback in the Pacific Northwest after a season of environmentally-minded fishing restrictions, was still available all over the coast, even if it had been caught wild further north. And what if you couldn’t help but buy some of the smoked salmon strips from the Pike Place Fish Market, and it was, truly (sorry Claudia, but it is.  Say it with me), the bacon of fish? Perhaps when you purchased the salmon, something far away and foresightful planted the vision of fresh crème fraiche, so you dutifully shook things in a jar and set to finishing overnight without knowing why, since you were traveling and didn’t have a place to cook.

Visualize, in the presence of all this great fish, Seattle’s rosemary growing like sumac – bushy, robust, unstoppable. Say that Seattle was also the place where you finally got access to a kitchen, early one morning.  Finally, imagine that since you were on vacation, you weren’t really sticking with the bean theme.

The only possible thing to do then, would be to gather all this wonderful stuff you’d collected and improvise a beautiful, smoky, peppery fried egg on toast with the bacon of fish and capers and rosemary-gone-wild, and a spoonful of crème fraiche to finish, for one decadent, no, perfect, breakfast.

Just like so.

The Recipe

Beanless Egg on Toast with Smoked Salmon, Capers, Rosemary and Crème
(Serves four)

1 tablespoon olive oil
4 brown, local eggs
4 slices whole wheat bread, toasted
1 tablespoon butter
2 tablespoons capers (seems like a lot, I know, but hey, they’re the new wonder food)
8 ounces smoked salmon strips (seems like a lot, I know, but hey, they’re really tasty!)
2 generous sprigs of fresh rosemary
Scant pinch of hot red pepper flakes – ancho or aleppo are good
Fresh ground black pepper and sea salt
Fresh crème fraiche (recipe follows)

Over medium heat, add olive oil to a large non-stick skillet. Crack the eggs into the skillet, one at a time, and let each one heat slightly before adding the next one to prevent the egg whites from running into one another. Let eggs cook for 2 to 3 minutes, then using a spatula, very carefully flip the eggs over onto the yolk side and let cook another minute or two. You want the egg whites to be solid and opaque but the centers to still be jiggly.

In a separate skillet and at the same time, warm the salmon strips in a small amount of olive oil. Remove from heat when warmed and softened, and slice into thin strips.

Spread a thin layer of butter over each slice of toasted bread. Place one fried egg on each slice. Place several strips of salmon over each egg, then spoon a half-tablespoon of capers onto each serving.

Hold each sprig of rosemary at the top (thin end), and run your fingers over the leaves to shuck them from the stem. Divide the pile into four and sprinkle equally onto each egg. Place a generous dollop of crème fraiche onto the eggs, and finish with freshly ground pepper and sea salt.

Homemade Crème Fraiche

3 cups heavy cream
1/3 cup buttermilk

In a large glass jar, combine cream and buttermilk and stir very lightly. Let sit overnight in a warm, dry place. In the morning, stir and refrigerate.

Recipe for environmental change

Say you wanted to know more about sustainable wood products to help prevent some of the clear cutting.

Say you wanted to help preserve California wines (while still celebrating Oregon and Washington offerings) by decreasing your carbon output.

Or imagine that when you were hungry for fish, you wanted to know which of your choices would do the least harm to the ocean’s ecosystems (this is a particularly cool service, and appeals to those addicted to texting).

These are some very preliminary and rudimentary excursions into complex issues, but I hope you’ll give these sites a glance. There’s so much astonishing beauty in this world, and it’s worth protecting, for its own sake yes, but also because without the intricate ecosystem it represents, we simply can’t survive. I’ll be writing more about these issues soon, in a different forum and format. In the meantime, email me directly with your thoughts and questions.

And for those of you inspired by salmon, let me leave you with a poem I love. It was written by David Whyte, a British-American poet and marine biologist.

Song for the Salmon
For too many days now
I have not written of the sea , nor the rivers
nor the shifting currents we find between the islands.

For too many nights now
I have not imagined the salmon
threading the dark streams of reflected stars
nor have I dreamt of his longing
nor the lithe swing of his tail toward the dawn.

I have not given myself to the depths to which he goes
to the cargoes of crystal water cold with salt
nor the enormous plains of ocean swaying beneath the moon.

I have not felt the lifted arms of the ocean
opening its white hands on the seashore
nor the salted wind, whole and healthy
filling his chest with living air.

I have not heard those waves fallen out of heaven on to earth
nor the tumult of sound
and the satisfaction of a thousand miles of ocean
giving up its strength on the sand.

But now I have spoken of that great sea
the ocean of longing shifts through me
the blessed inner star of navigation moves in the dark sky above
and I am ready like the young salmon blessed with hunger
for a great journey on the drawing tide.

You may not catch a salmon, but that’s no reason not to catch every Beanstock post. Subscribe now to Becky and the Beanstock.

It was a bit like watching Abbott and Costello launch Apollo 11, witnessing the Kuva Coffee masterminds at work. Tim Drescher, co-founder and owner and his roastmaster Jim Colbert were hammering out the profile for the Jamaican Blue Mountain bean.

“We’re at 292 degrees and climbing fast,” Tim called from the helm. “296. 99. 305.  325! Oh, hey, 355”

“Jamaica’s in the funnel,” Jim called back, sounding a touch annoyed. He usually doesn’t have to deal with an audience.  “We’re on standby and good to go.”

Less than a minute later, with the flick of a lever, an avalanche of straw colored coffee beans cascaded into the roasting drum. For a moment we crowded, transfixed, around the glass viewer as the beans tumbled rhythmically. For the longest time, they stayed the same pale hue.

“Hey, Jim, are you paying attention?” Tim called out suddenly, breaking the spell.  The beans had just darkened to the color of dried grass.  “Do we need to adjust the air flow? We’re at 40% and holding.”

Jim ignored this. He was busy adding to a column of numbers on a creased and worn sheet of notebook paper, and comparing it to a similar sheet that was taped to the work table.  Without warning he stopped scribbling and leaned in, placing his ear close to the roaster.

“There goes first crack,” he said, almost to himself. “You hear it? Yeah, there it is. We’re cracking.” And we were. At once the sound of popping drowned out everything else.

“We just went up a level. Grass to toast. Cinnamon is on board next,” Tim said, referring to the color metamorphosis. “Jim, air flow check!”

But Jim was on it, and so shortly after enough moisture had been pulled out of the beans that they began to crackle, Jim emptied the beans into the cooling bin. This, the coveted Jamaican Blue Mountain, is a light roast. Extremely rare and highly prized, Kuva takes it just dark enough to highlight its “origin” flavors.  In the cooling bin, the beans were stirred by a mechanical arm till they were able to be handled. As anyone who was standing before a pile of gold might be, I was tempted just then to shove my hands deep into the fragrant, shining beans. But that would have hurt. Still, I scooped one up and bit into it. The oils bit me back.

“That’s why we recommend you let the beans sit at least two days before you brew them,” Tim said, noting my surprise. “All those flavors have to settle back into the bean.” Kuva recommends letting the beans rest for a couple of days and then drinking them within six weeks. “This is when freshly roasted coffee is at its prime.”

At optimum freshness, this Jamaican Blue Mountain bean from the Mavis Bank plantation is a delicate balance of acidity, body, and flavor.  Like some table wines, it’s an easy drinker, but it still packs in quite a it of complexity. It’s smooth, rich, mellow and bright, with a relatively low acidity.

What I was really there to see though was the roasting of the El Salvador El Jabali Bourbon.  It is, dear reader, an heirloom coffee bean, and it was none too easy to find. Tim and Mike (Kuva’s other owner) were determined to track it down though.  “I like a coffee challenge,” Tim once remarked to me, and apparently that’s no lie.   But why is an heirloom java nugget such an elusive thing?  For whatever reason, coffee beans have been aggressively hybridized, and even the single origin plantations use newer varieties. This El Salvador Bourbon bean is a real find.

Bourbon refers to the type of tree this coffee grows on. The El Salvador El Jabali comes from the Asocición Cooprativa de Producción Agropecuaria El Jabalí de S.R co-op. It’s a certified organic, fair trade bean, and Kuva is in the process of becoming a certified organic roaster (they’re already Rainforest Alliance certified), which makes this a bean you can be proud to brew. Of the 146 member farms that provide beans to the co-op, 12 of them are woman-owned.  Jabali means wild boar, but don’t worry, this refers to the coffee’s untamed, unrefined growing habits rather than to flavor profile.

El Salvador Bourbon beans are roasted to second crack, which means it’s a deeper, fuller-bodied roast. Even a week after their roast date the oils glisten and shine.  Kuva gives the bean a medium roast, bringing out the sweet, soft notes inherent in the bean. In the cup, the coffee has floral, citrusy hints with an undertone of chocolate.

Rich, full-bodied, chocolate – I don’t know about you, but that makes me think of cake.  Before I launch into a recipe though, let me answer the burning question of where you can get Kuva Coffee for yourself.  If you’re in St. Louis, you can pick it up at Local Harvest, Whole Foods, or this really cool café/shop/museum on Delmar called Winslow Home.  And, while the season lasts you can  it by the cup or by the pound at the Tower Grove Farmer’s Market. It’s also a great chance to meet Jim and Tim, as well as Mike Schlansker, Kuva’s co-owner. If you’re not local, you can order it directly from them online.

Cocoa and El Salvador Coffee Cake with Coffee Bean Brittle

Here’s a secret: I have a hard time making baked things look pretty. They don’t look the way I imagine the, not in real life and certainly not in photos, which can be even trickier You know how a bite of velvety cake looks decadent on a fork? In a photo it just looks like something someone has taken a bite of, with runny icing.  See what I mean?

So my photos don’t make it look even half as lovely as it is. What if I tell you it was fit for a Sex in the City movie-viewing party last weekend (clearly we don’t deserve to call ourselves fans or we would have seen it in the theatre. We tried). I figured the rich mocha coffee bean cake could offer tribute to the girls’ patronage of Payards. So, after our homemade fried rice (in honor of Miranda’s habit) and our cosmos of course, we turned our attention to dessert. The cake was rich, velvety but not too sweet. Probably it’s best served in thinner slices; we all took hefty wedges, and I’m proud to say, reader, that we ate them, too.

If making a cake from scratch is just too much trouble, then you gotta make this coffee brittle.  Now that we have parchment paper in the culinary world, it’s easy-peasy. Plus, the amber-spun confection glows like stained glass in the right light.  But when you’re done playing with it and you actually bite into it, you just might find yourself hooked on the toasted, rich, chocolate-tinted stuff.

Cocoa and El Salvador Coffee Cake with Coffee Bean Brittle

1/3 cup cocoa powder
6 tablespoons unsalted butter
1/3 cup vegetable oil
2/3 cup El Salvador coffee, brewed strong
3 ounces dark chocolate, finely chopped
1 cup white sugar
1 large egg
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 1/4 cups  all purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/3 cup sour cream

Cream Topping:
1 ½ cups heavy cream, whipped
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Coffee Bean Brittle
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup water
1 tablespoon roasted coffee beans, ground coarsely

Make coffee brittle first so that it has time to cool and harden.  Begin by lining a large baking tray with parchment paper.  In a small saucepan, heat sugar and water over high heat. Stir constantly until the sugar dissolves, then bring mixture to a boil. Don’t stir, letting the mixture change from a thin liquid into a thicker syrup.

When mixture changes into a light amber color (about 8 minutes), add the coffee beans and stir slightly to mix.  Continue to cook the syrup till it turns golden brown. Remove from heat, pour the mixture into the prepared baking sheet, and then shake the tray slightly to spread syrup evenly.  Allow brittle to cool, then peel away the parchment. Break into large shards. You can store this for several weeks, or for up to a year in the freezer.

To make the cake:
Preheat oven to 300 degrees F. Line the base of a 9 inch round cake pan with parchment paper (can you tell I love this stuff?).  If possible, use a deep pan, about 3 inches. Dust the parchment with flour.

On stovetop, combine cocoa, butter, oil and coffee in a saucepan. Heat till butter melts then stir well. Bring to a boil and stir until the mixture becomes velvety.

Remove fro heat.  Add the chocolate and sugar and stir well, until chocolate is completely melted and the mixture is rich and smooth. Allow the mixture to cool slightly, then add the egg and vanilla. Sift in the flour and baking powder and stir until just combined. Add the sour cream and stir gently.

Pour cake batter into the prepared pan and allow it to level out, then bake for about 45 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Let cool nd then invert the cake onto a rack.

Just before serving, spread the cream mixture on top, then sprinkle some of the coffee bean brittle over the cream.