That’s it. Despite what every single thing ever written about grilling vegetables says (except, of course, by me), do not “lightly brush,” “gently toss,” or in other euphemistic way put any extra virgin olive oil on any vegetable before you cook it over a hot fire. (I won’t add my rant about the fire, but know that all of your grilling will be better if you do it over real wood charcoal; email me for details.)

The vegetables don’t need oil to keep from sticking to the grill; they don’t stick without it. Any oil drips off, ignites, and the resulting flames send little particles of burnt oil back up to your food. Oiling vegetables doesn’t do them any good. It’s a mistake. Don’t do it.

Grill your vegetables dry, which means not dry like the desert but free of anything other than a little water that might be left from washing. Cook until done, which usually means with a little charring from that intense heat. When the vegetables are done, put them on a platter, drizzle with extra virgin, sprinkle with flor de sal, and eat.

Some things get a little vinegar and some time. I usually grill the vegetables first, when the fire is hot, so they’re often at ambient temperature when we eat them. A simple salsa verde of chopped fresh herbs (mint, parsley, marjoram), garlic, olive oil, vinegar, and capers is a nice addition to anything grilled, including vegetables (anchovy and oregano from Pantelleria are always in mine).

Asparagus is just coming on, and it’s one of the best vegetables for grilling (see above). The Katz Meyer Lemon Olive Oil is particularly good on asparagus, but hurry if you want some. All of the extra virgin olive oils I have will also be delicious, and you can squeeze a lemon for extra goodness. Chopped hard-boiled egg is good, too

I’ve reduced the prices for all of the 2011 harvest Italian extra virgin olive oils by $2 for both bulk and already bottled. Here’s what else you’ll find:

- Katz freshly pressed, 2012 harvest olio nuovo (limited quantities)
- California Olive Ranch Everyday Extra Virgin & Arbequina
- Portuguese flor de sal
- real balsamic vinegar from Modena
- salt-packed capers & oregano from Pantelleria
- fiore di finocchio (aka fennel pollen) from Tuscany
- Katz Orleans method vinegars
- farro, brown rice, and red beans
- olive oil, vinegar, & salt gift packs

I met Robert when he first came to Portland. I took a class where, among other things, I learned the classic two-spoon method of forming quenelles that I use almost every week to shape what I call fritters. Robert cooked a birthday dinner for me one year in his cozy SE duplex, and he always encouraged my efforts in the olive oil business. He is a sweetheart.

Robert has lymphoma. His friends are raising money to help him take a last trip to the places that influenced how he lived and made Portland a much better place to eat. Please make a donation if you can.

But I walked across the street, plucked off one of the yellow flowers, and ate it. I turned around, went back home, grabbed some scissors, and clipped off a bowlful. You probably won’t find these at the market, but if you grew any kale (or know a gardner who did) and it’s flowering, don’t wait.

Snip the flowers, any unopened buds, and stems up to about matchstick diameter into short pieces, toss with extra virgin olive oil, any of the Katz vinegars (the Viognier Honey is especially good), and a pinch of flor de sal and eat raw. Or cook for a couple of minutes in extra virgin with shallot or garlic, then pour in a few well-beaten eggs and scramble. The flavor is clearly kale, but there’s a sweet note, too. The flowers are tasty but fleeting morsels, the epitome of seasonal food.

Not only did we really, really like Laura and Deanna (and their families, who fed us and showed us Modena), but we came away with a much better understanding of the amount of hard work, deep-seated knowledge, and just plain magic that goes into aceto balsamico.

Most of what’s sold as balsamic vinegar is just red wine vinegar sweetened with caramelized sugar and has no relation to the real stuff. But it’s cheap to make and generates nice profit margins for manufacturers willing to capitalize on gullible shoppers.

Real balsamic vinegar begins with the freshly pressed juice of Trebbiano grapes. The juice or must is cooked down to about 30% of its original volume, then it begins the slow fermentation process in a set of barrels made from different woods called a batteria. Each year, if the vinegar maker think it’s good enough, some of the vinegar from the last barrel in the batteria is removed. That barrel is topped up from the next oldest, and the process moves up the line with some of the newly reduced must going into the first barrel. A batteria may only yield a few liters of vinegar every year.

Profumi Estensi works with vinegar makers who produce balsamico on a very small scale, primarily for their family and friends. They’re willing to sell a little to offset their costs, which can reach hundreds of euros every year. We visited one and climbed the steep ladder up into the attic to see the acetaia (ah-che-taya or vinegar works). Hunched under the low ceiling, Judith and I followed Sergio as he flipped back the cloth squares covering the evaporation holes on the tops of the barrels, dipping spoons into the thick balsamico.

Only a handful of people ever get to see a family acetaia, and we felt incredibly privileged. Sergio inherited some of his barrels from his father, and he grew up learning how to mix vinegar from the different barrels in the batteria to get the complex flavor of true aceto balsamico. Watching him move among the barrels and seeing his eyes light up as he talked about the vinegar, we both wondered how he could bear to part with a single drop.

But he could, and it arrived in Portland yesterday. I got some of Sergio’s young vinegar, only two years old but remarkably complex. Even better, it’s a bit less expensive, so I can offer a 60 ml bottle for $20. He also sent a little of an older balsamico, from the last barrel in the batteria and aged at least 8 years. It’s thicker and a little less sweet, despite being more concentrated, but a bit more expensive at $35/60 ml. Email me to get some.

What I’ve got: Italian and Californian extra virgin olive oils, Orleans method vinegars from Katz & Co. in Napa, hand-harvested flor de sal from Portugal, organic whole grain farro and heirloom varietal brown rice, salt-packed capers and oregano from the island of Pantelleria, and fennel pollen from Tuscany. And from our friends at Chop Butchery & Charcuterie and Alma Chocolate, salami and chocolate.

I’m out of a few things. The aceto balsamico from Modena and the California olio nuovo won’t arrive for another week or so. The Haricot Farms red beans and Crystal hot sauce are also on back order. All of these things should be here before Christmas, so check back for news if you just can’t get through the month without them. I’ve expanded my hours and added a few other sales events this month; here’s the complete schedule.

Rodgers’ Zuni Cafe cookbook came out in 2001 and her presalted roast chicken got a lot of ink, so I started cooking birds the same way. And Marco showed me how he’d been hanging chickens in the open air for several hours to dry out their skins for Bastas’ justly famous crispy chicken. So after salting l dried the chicken by letting it sit uncovered overnight in the refrigerator; incredibly good.

I’d been brining the Thanksgiving turkey, and while I liked the juicy results I wasn’t happy with the way the skin wouldn’t crisp up. I switched to presalting and drying. Best turkey ever.

Learn how to cook one yourself, along with my other favorite Thanksgiving dishes, right here.

After splitting and scraping out the seeds (edible when roasted, but, to me, not quite as good as pumpkin seeds), cut the squash in manageable pieces and microwave in a large covered bowl with a bit of water until soft. Or bake or steam if you prefer. When cool, use a spoon to scrape the flesh from the tough outer skin. The bigger squash yield a few cups, so freeze some if you’re not ready for several nights of squash eating.

As usual, I make fritters. These, made with polenta or any other good corn meal, are really good. Recently I’ve been using the cooked squash as an ingredient in other fritters. It worked well with some leftover salmon (flake the fish, combine with a little squash, egg, breadcrumbs, celery leaf, capers, shallots, and pan fry), and I really liked this shrimp version.

Cut some melon into bite-sized pieces. Ditto a cucumber or two (I prefer mine peeled and seeded). Slice several tomatoes. Pick some basil (if you didn’t plant any this year, figure out how to remind yourself for next spring). Put everything on table, either in separate bowls or arranged on a big platter, but not tossed or dressed.

Take as many pieces of whatever you like, arrange them on your plate, drizzle with your best extra virgin olive oil, add a splash of good vinegar (or balsamico), sprinkle with flor de sal. Eat.

Don’t feel constrained. If you’ve got anything else good, either fresh produce, leftovers, or a nice cheese, add it to the mix.