To say that the Doe Bay Music Festival is the highlight of my year is an understatement. Since 2013, I’ve lead the catering operation there at the artist retreat house (the inspiration behind my business name). This entails cooking for somewhere between 100 and 200 people out of a kitchen that’s no bigger than maybe 100 square feet over the course of three days (the exact number of people depending on who shows up and the extent of the blind eye of whoever is in charge of dolling out VIP wristbands). I have a staff of three and a rotating cast of dedicated volunteers; together we run two completely separate operations – cooking for the musicians and staff of the festival – with two different budgets, timelines, menus, and protocols. It is by far the hardest I work all year; that, too, is an understatement.  

To summarize my experience of Doe Bay Fest is an impossible task. Believe me, I’ve been trying. To allow the reader to fully understand what that place means to me entails me telling you everything and putting into words memories that only great art forms like melody, paint, and dance are capable of expressing. Frankly, I’m just not that good enough of a writer. Or perhaps, the story is simply too large to fit in a recipe post. But, I’ll do my best.

Working this festival has changed me. It has ripped me open, exposed the worst of my weaknesses and the best of my strengths, has moved me with music, friendship, community, and connection, has pushed me to the edge of what I thought I was capable of, has eased me into the warm waters of its spas and plunged me into the frigid depths of the Puget Sound, has shown me time and time again how breathtakingly beautiful life can be, what I’m capable of, what we’re all capable of. I have mourned a break-up there, fallen in love there, gotten engaged there. I’ve performed solo in front of captive and non-captive audiences alike and have participated in choruses of ridiculous childish late-night singalongs. I’ve been shushed by security too many times to count. I’ve sprawled on moonlit grass to watch meteor showers, paddle boarded out to seals, and have met, fed, and sang with some longtime musical heroes of mine. I’ve shed countless tears out of love, elation, anxiety, and deep, deep sadness. I’ve hugged longer and laughed harder than I thought possible. I have forgotten more unforgettable moments than I will ever remember. I’ve made friends into family; Doe Bay Fest feels like coming home.

This year would have been my seventh working the kitchen, and was scheduled for this week. In normal non-pandemic times, I would be in the thick of it right now. Instead, I’m sitting at my kitchen table, sipping tea, listening to Y La Bamba on vinyl, shedding a tear for the Doe Bay Fest that isn’t, and wondering how to properly encapsulate the years into this post. And you know what, I can’t. I can’t honor Doe Bay with words. I should have started with the way I alway honor it. I should have just started with food.

Savory Mushroom and Coconut Gravy

Saturday breakfast is probably my favorite meal to serve at Doe Bay. Most of the musicians have been at the festival long enough to have shed at least some of their awkward skin, there’s one more full day to look forward to, and many people are viciously hungover. That’s where gravy comes in. We make two kinds, a standard sausage and a gluten-free dairy-free mushroom, and serve it breakfast poutine style with roasted potatoes, scrambled eggs, grilled English muffins, sautéed greens, tempeh, and bacon. There’s nothing like a warm and sloppy breakfast to greet you after sleeping in a tent on the hard ground all night. The paper plates barely hold up.

Yield: 3 1/2 cups
Prep Time: 20 minutes
Cook Time: 40 minutes

1/4 ounce dried porcini or shiitake mushroom (about ¼ cup)
3 tablespoons coconut oil
1 medium onion, diced
2 stalks celery, diced
3 garlic cloves, minced (about 1 ½ tablespoon)
8 ounces button mushroom, sliced
3 tablespoons gluten-free flour
13.5 ounces coconut milk
1 tablespoon tamari (or soy sauce, which isn’t GF)
1 1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
1/2 teaspoon ground white pepper
1/4 teaspoon liquid smoke
1 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

Pour about a cup of boiling water over the dried mushrooms and let steep for at least 20 minutes. They tend to float, so use a small strainer or utensil to keep them under water as best you can. When the mushrooms are soft, remove them and chop. Reserve the steeping liquid, sifting out any dirt or debris.    

Meanwhile, heat the coconut oil in a medium sized saucepan over medium high heat. Add onions and celery, plus a pinch of salt, and stir to coat. Lower heat to medium-low and cook until the onions are soft and translucent, 12 to 14 minutes. Add garlic, stir, and cook for 30 seconds more. Sprinkle the flour into the pan and toss to coat the vegetables, cook for a minute to toast, then slowly whisk in the reserved mushroom liquid, followed by 1 1/3 cup of coconut milk. The mixture should seize up initially and then relax. Use a whisk or spatula to prevent any lumps; adding liquid slowly is your best line of defense against lumpy gravy.

Finally, add tamari, thyme, white pepper, and liquid smoke, and bring up to a brief boil, then add the chopped button and porcini mushrooms and salt, and lower to a simmer. Cook for about 10 to 15 minutes, until mushrooms are cooked and gravy is silky. If the gravy is too thick, add the remaining bit of coconut milk (different gluten-free flours have different thickening powers, so use your best judgement). Taste for salt, and serve immediately.