If you’ve ever needed proof of the value of saving and preserving heirloom seeds, just take a close look at the photo above.
That, my friend, is what a real, wild shallot looks like. It’s not big and purple, and encased in an easily removed papery shell like the commercially grown ones found at the supermarket here. No, this true shallot known as a gray shallot is much smaller and much more gnarly looking. You have to work to get at it, too, because its outer shell is quite hard to penetrate.
But your efforts are richly rewarded in the end with its beguiling fragrance and flavor that’s like that of a fine truffle.
Now, aren’t you just itching to get your hands on one? Unfortunately, it’s grown only in France now. Like so many varieties of heirloom produce (ones that have been propagated for at least 50 years and are not hybrids), they fell out of popularity after World War II, when our food became much more homogenized and industrialized. But nowadays, chefs and small-scale farmers are rediscovering these heritage fruits and vegetables, and finding inspiration in the stories and flavors they hold.
That was the theme of a Sunday cooking seminar at the SF Chefs Food Wine extravaganza in San Francisco, hosted by Chef Daniel Patterson of Coi in San Francisco, Laurence Jossel of Nopa in San Francisco, and Craig Lindquist, a Sonoma seed preservationist.
“These old varieties were woven into people’s lives,” Patterson says. “You used to save the seeds of the plants you liked. Over time, the plants adapted to where they were grown, so they took on the flavor characteristics of the place. We’ve lost a lot of that now.”
Flavor is front and center with these imperfect looking, finicky growing heirlooms. They may win no beauty contests, but they will win you over with their taste. One spoonful of Jossel’s bold pork chile, made with heirloom peppers that were dried and smoked, will make you a convert. One sip of Patterson’s onion soup with Parmigiana foam, will leave you wondering how it could taste so sweet from just onions and no added sugar.
This Rose Finn potato was grown in England in the 1700s. It was the favorite potato of organic gardening pioneer Alan Chadwick, who supposedly smuggled it back to Santa Cruz, where he grew them, Lindquist says. Nowadays, you can find them occasionally for sale at the Ferry Plaza Farmers Market, or served in season at the venerable Chez Panisse in Berkeley.
This fingerling potato fell out of favor because of its little bumps (secondary growth sites), Lindquist says. Consumers want uniform, pretty looking potatoes, not ones with little nubs all over them.
Patterson can’t get enough of potatoes like this, though. He loves their creamy, almost sweet flavor. He steams them, then serves them with salsa verde and edible blooms, or just a little drizzle of olive oil and sea salt.
“Maintaining diversity is very important,” Lindquist says. “These products have unique flavors. And heirlooms give us an experience we just don’t get elsewhere.”
Find out more about heirloom seeds at Seed Savers Exchange, a non-profit dedicated to saving and sharing them.
Big-name chefs were also on the marquee at another session of SF Chefs Food Wine on Sunday. Indeed, they don’t come much bigger than Thomas Keller of the French Laundry in Yountville, Douglas Keane of Cyrus in Healdsburg, and Charles Phan of the Slanted Door in San Francisco.
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