Alaska Wild Blueberry Skillet Pies

Posted by Jack & Barbra Donachy on September 16, 2018
Posted in: baking. Tagged: , , , , , , , . 7 Comments

For us, late summer in Alaska means harvest time. This is the time of year for berry picking and fishing for Sockeyes and Silver Salmon in the Chignik River system. Only a short walk away from our home, there is a lovely patch of feral raspberries with plenty of ripe berries. And not so far away in the other direction is a place we call the blueberry bog, where, as you’ve already guessed, we can pick low bush blueberries to our hearts’ content. 

Now that I’ve finally mastered the Buttery Flaky Pie Crust (a culinary goal checked off last winter), I am confident when Jack requests pie for dessert. Today’s request – Alaskan Wild Blueberry Pie.  Jack and our houseguest Isabel knew what they had to do while I was busy teaching my students. Armed with bear spray and berry collecting containers, they hiked the mile or so to the bog. Their efforts were rewarded with fresh slices of pie topped with scoops of extra rich homemade vanilla ice cream.

Alaska Wild Blueberry Skillet Pies

(Makes 2 6-inch skillet pies)

Ingredients

  • 1 double pie crust
  • 3/4 cup sugar
  • 3 tablespoons cornstarch
  • 1/8 teaspoon salt
  • 1/4 cup cold water
  • 5 cups fresh blueberries, divided
  • 1 tablespoon butter
  • 1 tablespoon lemon juice

Directions

  1. In a saucepan over medium heat, combine sugar, cornstarch, salt and water until smooth. Add 3 cups blueberries. Bring to a boil; cook and stir for 2 minutes or until thickened and bubbly.
  2. Remove from the heat. Add butter, lemon juice and remaining berries; stir until butter is melted. Cool. 
  3. Preheat your oven to 350 degrees F.
  4. Cut four circles out of of pie dough. Each dough circle should be about 1/2 inch larger than the mini skillet you’re using as your guide. Place the dough circle into the skillet, being careful not to stretch the dough. With a knife trim off any excess dough.
  5. Ball up all of the extra dough and roll it out on a lightly floured surface. Cut out four more circles large enough to cover the top of a mini skillet.
  6. Next, evenly divide the blueberry filling among the skillets. Top each with approximately 1/2 tablespoon of cubed, cold butter.
  7. Cover each skillet with a piece of dough. Using your fingers, crimp the edge of dough all the way around to seal. Brush with egg wash and sprinkle lightly with sugar. Place skillets onto a cookie sheet for baking.
  8. Bake for 35-40 minutes or until crust is golden and the filling is bubbly. (If the top crust starts to get brown before the inside is hot, cover with aluminum foil.)
  9. Cool before serving. Top with ice cream.

 

First Silver of 2018

Posted by Jack & Barbra Donachy on September 8, 2018
Posted in: Fishing. Tagged: , , , , , . 6 Comments

Ocean-bright and full of fight, Barbra’s 12-pound Coho today is the first and only salmon we’ve put on the bank this year… so far.

In each our previous six years in Alaska, our fish for the coming months were long ago caught, cleaned, freezer-packed or smoked and canned and put away.

Not this year.

Like a lot of salmon runs around Alaska, here on the Chignik River its been a mere trickle of fish compared to other years. In fact, for a few weeks in July fishing was closed altogether. Still, we were confident upon returning from our bike trek in Hokkaido that we’d be able to get the couple of dozen or so fish we need.

That was nearly a month ago. Admittedly, it’s not like we’ve been hitting the water every day. But the few times we’ve been out, it’s been discouraging. When lots of salmon are around, so are bears, eagles and seals, and we can generally see lots of jumpers – salmon fresh from the sea and full of energy spontaneously leaping for whatever reasons salmon spontaneously leap. But it’s been eerily quiet; the usual eagle roosts have been empty.

Even in this down year, hundreds of thousands of Sockeyes ascended the river, and there will undoubtedly be thousands of Coho as well. It felt great to finally get one. Pasta with fresh salmon is on the menu tonight.

Raspberry Vanilla Custard Tart in a Swanky Almond Crust

Posted by Jack & Barbra Donachy on August 25, 2018
Posted in: baking. Tagged: , , , , , , , . 15 Comments

Sixty-six days on a bike, 1,300 miles pedaled, more miles walked, hiked, climbed, and canoed. Before we knew it, we were back home with thousands of photos and a lifetime of stories to prepare for publication. What better way to transition back from the world of bicycle trekking to our home in Chignik Lake than baking? I can’t think of one.

I arrived back home to my patiently waiting, full, lovely pantry. Translucent jars of raspberry jam caught my eye on from the shelf where they’d been stored. With this year’s fruit quickly ripening, it’s time to use up last year’s stores. What a great excuse to bake with one of my favorite flavors – raspberry. Jack “I-don’t-have-a-sweet-tooth” Donachy’s secret weakness is custard desserts. For no better reason than pure love (of custard and raspberry), this little baby was created. Wait… I’m not saying that little baby Jack was created just to eat custard. I’m saying that this dessert… never mind.

A crust infused with almonds. Then a creamy vanilla custard topped with a smooth, delicious layer of homemade jam – I prefer raspberry. I set it out to photograph, and it was gone in a flash.

For those of you following along, we will have plenty of photos and stories coming from our bicycle trek around Hokkaido. Jack is up to is elbows in the sorting and editing process as well as catching the last of Chignik Lake’s migratory birds before they head south. Stay tuned. For now, sit back and enjoy a slice, or two, of this delicious tart.

Raspberry Vanilla Custard Tart

Crust

Ingredients

  • 1 cup all purpose flour
  • 1/2 cup finely chopped almonds
  • 3 tbsp granulated sugar
  • 2 large egg yolks
  • 1 tbsp cold water
  • generous pinch salt
  • 1/4 cup cold unsalted butter

Directions

  1. In a large bowl, whisk together flour, almonds, and sugar.
  2. In a medium bowl, whisk egg yolks and water.
  3. Grate butter into flour mixture. Toss butter so that it is fully coated. Use two sharp knives (I used steak knives) to chop the butter into smaller pea-sized pieces.
  4. Pour egg mixture into flour mixture. Stir with fork until dough comes together. It should be shaggy looking. If it’s too dry add tiny amounts of cold water until it comes together.
  5. Turn dough out into a 9-inch springform pan or tart pan with removable bottom.
  6. Press dough into bottom of pan and up the sides of pan (about 1 inch) with fingertips.
  7. Prick dough with fork. Freeze for 20 – 30 minutes.
  8. Preheat oven to 350°F.
  9. Bake crust for 35 minutes. It will be golden brown when finished.
  10. Let cool completely. You can store the crust at room temperature if it’s tightly wrapped in plastic.

Vanilla Custard Filling and Raspberry Topping

Ingredients

  • 2 cups whole milk
  • 1 tsp vanilla paste
  • 4 large egg yolks
  • 1/3 cup granulated sugar
  • 4 tbsp cornstarch
  • pinch salt
  • 3 tbsp unsalted butter
  • 1/2 cup homemade raspberry jam (here’s a good recipe for quick jam)

Directions

  1. Bring milk and vanilla to a simmer in a medium pot. Remove from heat.
  2. While heating milk mixture, thoroughly whisk together egg, sugar, cornstarch and salt in a medium bowl.
  3. Slowly, while whisking, pour milk mixture into egg mixture.
  4. Pour custard back into the medium pot.
  5. Continue whisking mixture over medium heat. Mixture should begin to bubble and become thick. Remove from heat.
  6. Whisk in butter, one tablespoon at a time.
  7. Transfer back to medium bowl. Cover with plastic wrap so that wrap is against surface of custard.
  8. Cool completely in refrigerator.
  9. To assemble, whisk cooled custard until smooth.
  10. Pour custard into cooled crust.
  11. Spread jam evenly on top of custard.
  12. Serve immediately.

Recipe adapted from Bon Appétit  Magazine.

Gray Heron, Hokkaido – wildlife notes

Posted by Jack & Barbra Donachy on August 4, 2018
Posted in: photography. Tagged: , , , , , , , . 8 Comments

Gray Heron, (aosagi), Abishiri campground, Hokkaido, Japan.

One of the reasons we chose Hokkaido for our first bicycle trek were the reports that wildlife viewing on this northern Japanese island can be quite good. We’ve not been disappointed. Almost every morning we’ve woken to the songs and calls of birds, and our rides this summer have taken us through mile upon mile of gently rolling farmland, forested hills, river valleys and along coastlines. To date we’ve identified over 60 species of birds and have encountered bears, deer, foxes, mink, seals, porpoises and small whales. Some of the highlights have included:

  • 9 Brown Bears
  • over 20 Red Foxes
  • Dozens of Ezo Deer
  • 32 Red-crowned Cranes
  • Over 20 White-tailed Eagles
  • 2 Blakiston’s Fish Owls (and nighttime voices of other species of owls)
  • the world’s largest breeding colony of Rhinoceros Auklets
  • 3 species of cuckoo
  • 4 species of woodpecker
  • 2 species of snakes
  • Ezo Red Squirrels (and Siberian Chipmunks)
  • Peregrine Falcons
  • Dall’s Porpoises
  • over 100 seals
  • more butterflies and moths – and more different kinds of butterflies and moths – than we’ve ever before seen anywhere

Wildflower viewing as well has been fantastic. When we return to Alaska, we’ll post more detailed articles about Hokkaido wildlife.

Thick-billed Crow’s Lucky Day

Posted by Jack & Barbra Donachy on July 28, 2018
Posted in: Hokkaido bicycle trek. Tagged: , , , , , , , . 3 Comments

Got ‘em!

A few days ago we were in Rausu, Hokkaido at a bed and breakfast where Blakiston’s Fish Owls can be seen. From head to toe and wing tip to wing tip, these are the world’s largest owls – and one of the rarest. We had hoped to get a look and maybe some photographs. 

In the stream that flows in front of the property, the minshiku owners have created a small pool which they keep stocked with trout. Most nights this time of year a breeding pair of fish owls take turns showing up at the pool to forage for themselves and their chicks. We got some nice photos of both the female and the male owl which we’ll include in an article at a later date.

In addition to the owls, minks – a species introduced from America – are occasional nighttime visitors to the pool. In wintertime, bears follow spawning salmon up the stream. One afternoon I was watching the pool, camera in lap, when a Thick-billed Crow landed in a nearby tree. I knew right away what he had in mind, so I focused on the pool and waited. What I wasn’t prepared for was the short work he made of catching this trout. 

Knee Deep in Trout and Char (somewhere in Hokkaido)

Posted by Jack & Barbra Donachy on July 21, 2018
Posted in: Hokkaido bicycle trek. Tagged: , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

Iwana (Dolly Varden Char) are one of Hokkaido’s most celebrated cold-water fish.

I have an incurable habit of looking into water for fish. It doesn’t matter what kind of water. At the beach I check the translucent prisms of waves for whatever might be cruising the surf. Coming upon pools on rivers during hikes I make efforts to position myself so that I’m looking into shade rather than glare so that I can maybe catch a glimpse of something with fins. I’ll even check out coin fountains in the off chance that a carp or even a goldfish might be swimming around. But bridges on quiet country roads crossing pretty little trout streams are especially inviting. There’s almost always a pool below the bridge, and if the water has a population of trout, there are often a few of them hanging out right there. No matter how hard-fished the water might be, it’s worth a look.

Yamame could literally be translated as “Mountain Girl” – a lovely name for a lovely fish. More commonly the stream-dwelling form of this species is called “Cherry Trout.” Similar to Cutthroat and Rainbow Trout of the Pacific Northwest, (to which yamame are related), some go to sea where they attain sizes measured in pounds and return to their natal rivers to spawn bright as polished chrome – Cherry Salmon.

And so there we were, mid-afternoon, straddling our bikes and leaning over the the concrete side of a bridge on a quiet road running through a mix of forest and farmland somewhere in Hokkaido. The water was perfectly clear, but the trout and char are so adeptly camouflaged to match the stony bottoms of these streams that unless one moves they are all but impossible to pick out. 

One moved. As it rose to take something off the surface I could even see its spots. A char of some type. I hadn’t done any fishing yet in Hokkaido. This fish was telling me it was time I did.

I didn’t expect the fish to be large and they weren’t. But in the space of about two hours I covered a couple hundred yards of this silvery mountain stream and caught two dozen or so fish  About half of them were iwana. The others were yamame. A few came to a parachute Adams – my favorite dry fly searching pattern. A lot more came to a pheasant tail nymph – my favorite nymph. A couple of overly eager types tried to eat the pea-sized orange strike indicator I was using. 

A younger version of myself would have kept a few of these fish for the frying pan. But these days I fish for trout in part to simply confirm that they are present, and I wanted these fish to remain present. So Barbra took a couple of photos and I released everything to continue living out their lives in this silvery piece of water and light somewhere in Hokkaido.

There wasn’t a single human footprint along the banks, much less a path. Knee deep in a cold mountain stream full of trout and char – sitting on top of the world, legs hanging free.

A 50-Year Itch Scratched

Posted by Jack & Barbra Donachy on July 16, 2018
Posted in: Hokkaido bicycle trek. Tagged: , , , , , , . 7 Comments

Particularly during wintertime, I used to sleep with my head at the foot of my bed, up in the second story of our house on Route 322. From that position I could look out the window and watch as squat coal trucks lit in amber lights lumbered through the winter darkness up and down the Clarion River hill. Come from where, I didn’t know. Going to where, I didn’t know. My head brimming with stories from the pens of Jack London and Robert Louis Stevenson, those trucks took on the form of ships ferrying their loads to far off lands. Their engine brakes, abrupt and astonishingly loud, undoubtedly bothered most people. I had heard my parents complain about them. But I loved their deep-throated staccato in the way, later in life, I would love the sound of a navy ship announcing with long, loud blasts its departure from the docks, its embarkation upon the open sea.

Against the backdrop of coal trucks as schooners, Japanese glass fishing floats came into my life more as a concept than as a discrete “thing.” The summer I turned nine, my parents gathered us up and took us to Oregon for well over a month. While my mother attended graduate school classes, we stayed in a small apartment close enough to the coast that it was maddeningly tantalizing, far enough inland that I got only a few looks at the rocky-shouldered Pacific. And so that ocean grew in my mind as things not realized often do, as did its salmon and fishing boats and the quiet, mysterious, romantic coastal towns. The glass floats were part of that. Carefully arranged as decorative items in restaurants, casually gathering dust in the corners of motel lobbies and antique shops, for sale among the bric-a-brac in souvenir shops, these imperfectly bubbled spheres of aqua blues and marine greens were captivating enough in their own right. But the idea… that they had broken free from nets thousands of miles distance and ridden a great, cold, arcing current for perhaps decades before reaching the beaches of the Pacific Northwest, and that the ones out there in the ocean now are the last of them, having been replaced by plastic, was beyond cool. It was compelling. 

I dreamed of finding one. Many years later I purchased a couple to display and admire in my home. But it’s not the same as actually discovering one of your own delivered to some windswept swath of sand after a sea storm. A friend even gave me some he’d found on a beach up in Alaska. The gesture was appreciated, but…

The day after my 59th birthday, Barbra and I were having breakfast on a drift log on a beach in northern Hokkaido. We were watching a few shore anglers casting for Cherry Salmon near the mouth of a small river. As we did, Barbra’s eyes wandered down the beach. 

And there it was. 

I wasn’t quite as jealous as I thought I’d be. After all, at least one of us had found one. While I was trying to reconcile myself to “our” float, it occurred to me that where there was one, there might be another. I lifted up the binoculars which we’d brought along to watch the fisherman, and then without saying anything I handed them to Barbra and ran down the beach.

And that’s how we came to find not one but two Japanese glass fishing floats on the day after my 59th birthday.