Hummus for everyone!

I came across this article in today's New York Times, reminding me that I long ago promised the ladies at my sister's bridal shower to post my recipe for hummus. (Sorry!) The article, chronicling the increase in popularity of hummus for Americans over the last decade or so, highlights the basic principle of this middle eastern spread: anything goes. Making hummus is not a science. There is no exact recipe. As the matriarch to the Holy Land hummus-making enterprise Mrs. Wadi suggests, it's "eat, eat, eat, taste, taste, taste." If it's a dip that tastes good and has chick peas somewhere in the ingredients list, you can call it hummus.

I've been making hummus for a while now and my method is fairly straight-forward. Unfortunately, using a food processor for this recipe is non-negotiable. Blenders, whether hand-held or standing types, are more frustrating than this simple recipe is worth. If you like eating, however, I recommend investing in a food processor. Aside from the toaster and tea kettle, it's the one kitchen gadget I consistently use.

BASIC HUMMUS
Makes approx. 2 cups

1 can (14 oz.) chickpeas, drained
1/4 c tahini (sesame seed) paste
1 tiny piece of garlic (about 1/2 a small clove)
juice of 1 lemon (1/4 c from bottle)
1 tsp cumin powder (optional, but tastes good)
water
salt to taste
cayenne for heat, if desired

In a food processor, pulse the chickpeas, tahini and garlic until a coarse paste. Add lemon juice and cumin keep pulsing. Add small amounts of water to the mixture, about 1 Tbsp at a time and pulse until the hummus has a smooth creamy texture. Taste and adjust seasoning.

Gnocchi with chicken and cream

Now that fall is in full swing and the temperature is continuing to drop, I've added a whole chicken to my grocery list and am enjoying the ritual of the weekly roast chicken cycle.

Roasting day is my favourite. I love preparing the bird for the oven. I take the chicken out of the fridge an hour or two ahead of time to let it come to room temperature. Then, while the oven is preheating (to 325ºF), I rinse and dry the bird, lay it in the roasting tray, and rub a wad of butter over the entire surface. The white skin feels smooth and cool, and the muscle and bone underneath is firm. I examine the fat at the tail end and remove the excess. Salt and pepper inside and out. If I'm so inclined, I'll slice half an onion or pick some thyme from the garden to insert into the cavity for extra flavour. While in the oven, the chicken roasts away slowly, eventually bubbling and sputtering, sending its delicious aroma into the air. Once finished, and having rested for a quarter hour under a tea towel, the chicken is ready to eat. This is when to enjoy the crisp, freshly roasted skin, and, my favourite bits, the wings. I eat these standing over the stove in the kitchen.

I keep the chicken in its roasting dish in the fridge, covered with plastic wrap, so that the roasting juices congeal at the bottom. Never throw these away. They are rich in flavour and nutrition and add depth to any sauce. My new favourite thing to make with leftover chicken and the juice is gnocchi with cream. This recipe is so simple, delicious, and fast with a prep time of only 10 minutes. I encourage you to try it.

Finally, the end of the chicken cycle is when all of the meat is picked away and the bones go into the stock pot. Again, glorious smells fill the house as the stock pot gurgles. I yield about a litre of stock per chicken carcass, enough to make an easy lentil soup for the next day.

GNOCCHI WITH CHICKEN AND CREAM
Serves 2

1/2 pound gnocchi
two handfuls roast chicken, torn or cut into bite-sized pieces
roasting pan juices, fat removed
1/4 c whipping cream
chopped fresh parsley (optional)
salt and pepper to taste

In boiling salted water, cook gnocchi until they rise to the surface. Drain. In the same saucepan, add the pan juices and cream, bringing to a boil. Add gnocchi and chicken, stirring to coat and heat, 30 seconds with the lid on. Remove from heat. Add parsley and season. Serve with steamed broccoli, or a side salad.

Two Things

I have been preoccupied with other writings this week. I do have two things I wish to share before the weekend arrives.

Ruth Reichl
I have been reading the memoirs of food writer Ruth Reichl over the last couple of weeks. I completed Tender At the Bone on Wednesday and ran out to purchase another of her books the following day. I love her writing. She has created a life devoted to sensation, of following her instinct to find something as basic as food that tastes good. In Tender At the Bone, she recounts growing up under the tyrannical rule of the Queen of Mold, her manic-depressive mother who would routinely serve green sour cream and fuzzy bread. Her stories of her mother’s most memorable and horrific occasions, including an engagement party for her brother that sent 29 people to hospital with food poisoning, are almost impossible to believe. While most food writers highlight personal backgrounds that encouraged good eating, Reichl reveals that storytelling was prized in her family. I find myself reading her words slowly, savouring them as I would a good meal. I have yet to understand this response and I am curious to discover what makes her writing so different.

Vegetable Love
New ingredients create new opportunities for discovery. I have been shopping at Loblaws with the weekly sale flyer in hand, so I have been buying a lot of things that I wouldn’t normally eat and in large quantities. One of the results of my shopping trips was six hearts of Romaine lettuce (five bucks!) as well as a bag of avocados. As such, I dug out my copy of Barbara Kafka's Vegetable Love and realized I had been ignoring a treasure trove. Her “Shrimp and Avocado Salad on Lettuce and Sorrel” was the inspiration for my recipe below, seeing as I had several pounds of shrimp in the freezer from another shopping spree. I haven’t made her version, but I highly recommend her combination of soy sauce, lemon juice and avocado, three ingredients I never before thought to marry. My version is served warm and thus much easier to make.

WARM SHRIMP AND AVOCADO SALAD
Serves 1

1 Romaine heart, chopped
1 small or 1/2 large avocado, peeled and sliced
1 Tbsp chopped basil (or mint, parsley or coriander)
2 tsp oil
1 clove garlic, sliced
pinch hot pepper flakes
handful of frozen uncooked shrimp (about 3 oz.)
2 tsp tamari or soy sauce
juice of 1/4 lemon
salt and pepper to taste

Prepare salad by chopping clean lettuce and placing leaves in a salad bowl or dinner plate. Arrange avocado slices and chopped basil on top. Set aside.

Heat the oil and garlic in a small frying pan on medium high heat. When the garlic starts to sizzle, add the shrimp. Fry five minutes, turning shrimp to cook both sides. When shrimp are pink, add soy sauce and lemon juice and heat for another few seconds. Remove from heat and pour directly over vegetables. Season with salt and pepper to taste and enjoy!

We must always eat

I had decided earlier in the week to write my next post about cabbage, an entry I have been meaning to create for some time now, though one I have put off for several months. Even now, as I am finally beginning my cabbage post, I am overcome with boredom. Such is the nature of most of our everyday cooking: We cannot escape drudgery. No matter how great our moments of culinary inspiration may be, when our zest for cooking is boundless and we delight in the entire process of preparing a meal, these moments surely pass, but we must always eat. Cabbage is one of my fallback vegetables, perfectly suited for the most listless, uninspired moments in my workaday life.

Cabbage is the only vegetable with the resilience to outlast everything else in the fridge. It can sit patiently on the bottom shelf wrapped in plastic for weeks - even months - crisp and new as the day it arrived. While green brassicas like kale and collards turn yellow, and more tender leaves mold and rot, cabbage remains true. Even carrots and parsnips, though long in shelf life, eventually shrivel and grow brown in the crisper. Cabbage is a miracle.

I have been buying napa cabbages to keep in the fridge. The leaves are frilly, like lace, easily shredded and cook quickly. I have been stir-frying them with garlic and hot pepper flakes, adding some salt to help release the water to create steam, and sprinkling with a few chopped coriander leaves at the end before serving. Sometimes I throw in a handful of frozen peas for good measure. I eat this with boiled pork dumplings you can find in the freezer section and dipping sauce made from a combination of soy sauce, sesame oil and chili sauce.

I present cabbage not necessarily to entice you to include it in your lineup of kitchen staples. We all have the items we fall back on when we can’t think of something thrilling to cook. I could tell the story of my first failed attempt at making cabbage rolls, the filling folded ineptly between the thick, unyielding leaves of conventional white cabbage. Or I could reveal my source for my current method for preparing napa leaves: a casual Chinese luncheon celebrating the successful arrival of a new baby. Instead, I invite you to consider the ways you cook without thinking: how you squirrel things away in the fridge, freezer or pantry to prepare when you just need to eat.

Fight the power

If I wasn’t completely smitten for Jamie Oliver before purchasing his latest cookbook, Jamie’s Food Revolution, I am now. I was always impressed by his infectious enthusiasm for all things culinary; he’s like the energizer bunny of celebrity chefs. I’ve enjoyed watching him bounce from one project to next, heralding simple “naked” cooking using fresh ingredients and straightforward methods.

More than anyone else, I think, Jamie’s food philosophy is about empowerment. He recognizes that cooking your own food in today’s world is not just a political act: It’s downright radical.

I wonder if he’s read Paul Roberts’ The End of Food, an impeccably researched treasure trove of information for anyone concerned by how reliant westerners (and now emerging markets like China and India) have become on heavily processed (or, as Roberts calls them, “high margin”) foods. According to Roberts, the items in our supermarkets with the lowest nutritional value (pop, cookies, chips, snacks, etc.) and made with the cheapest ingredients (corn syrup, vegetable oils, synthetic thickeners and flavourings, etc.) have the highest profit margins available to the manufacturer. This is why these items are so heavily marketed to us. (The numbers one and two most recognized brands in the world are Coke and Pepsi, two very high margin items.) Making your own salad dressing, then, becomes not just a quest for superior ingredients and eliminating chemical additives. It’s an act of rebellion, an idea I think Oliver is beginning to communicate more effectively than ever before.

Oliver’s idea for Revolution is to bring the power of cooking to the people. He kick-started his “pass it on” movement by traveling to Rotherham, England, and teaching recipes from his new book to a handful of working class, processed food dependent non-cooks. He then charged them, and all of his readers, with the task of instructing four friends their one recipe, who in turn pass it on to four friends, and so on and so on. After seven repetitions, he says, there will be enough people who know how to cook one good recipe to fill Yankee Stadium one and a half times (that’s almost 80,000 people).

The recipes, as usual, are simple and tasty, like spaghetti bolognese, omelets, fish baked in foil packets and chopped salads. As such, there’s nothing much new, though their presentation (step-by-step photographs, variations on a theme) is really useful.

On the food side, I’m interested in two pantry staples Oliver uses in Revolution: quick oats and cream crackers. I’m always in search of new tricks. On first glance, I see Oliver throwing handfuls of quick oats into everything from smoothies to topping baked salmon. And the cream crackers smash up to make killer toppings and breadcrumbs. Already I have made a smoothie with some oats, and it didn’t turn into a gooey mess. I’m eager to try the rest of the recipes. I’ll let you know how they fare.

Thank you, Jamie, for being a champion of culinary self-empowerment. Rock on.

Banana break

This piece of culinary genius comes from my husband. He rarely cooks, though as I have said before, when he does the results are inspired.

We are preparing for a vacation to the Cayman Islands for a friend’s wedding. Given the high cost of everything from toothpaste to dry goods on the island, we have been planning to bring a suitcase or two of non-perishables to prepare in our kitchenette. We leave in a week, and so far we've eaten about half of everything I have bought for our trip, including a box of PC Organics Original Pancake Mix.

I am interested to discover all of the possible uses for pancake mix. Not only does it make great pancakes, but as we have now learned, a thicker batter with double the egg works as a delicious frying batter for sweet treats. B cut up several not-too-ripe bananas we had sitting on the counter and dipped the pieces in the batter before frying them for several minutes per side in hot oil.



I remember being slightly horrified when I watched Nigella Lawson dropping battered mini Bounty bars into her deep fryer and gobbling them up straight from the vat. Now I’m more concerned for us never leaving the house and dipping everything we can think of into pancake batter. It tastes so good.

For those of you who are regular follows of my blog or know me at all may wonder why I am now embracing the wheat, so to speak. I wrote about my no wheat policy several months ago as I began questioning the necessity of my personal ban. Since then, I have visited an allergy specialist who quickly concluded I am not allergic. She gave me a good earful about not just food allergies, but also how the digestive system works, and I can see that my personal fluctuations had more to do with stress than anything else. I have subsequently been eating all things gluten-filled for two months now with no change in my general health and well-being.

If you are one of the many people who has been recommended by an alternative health practitioner to avoid certain foods, I invite you to consider verifying their claims with your family doctor. After all, why live life without all of the tastes our culinary world has to offer if you don't have to?

Spring green

We had a much awaited and highly anticipated arrival this morning. At 7:44AM, after a long and particularly cold winter, spring began! We are overjoyed and look forward to growth and abundance over the next few months. Hurrah!

The weather today is sunny and crisp. It's cold: the thermostat is barely above freezing. But no matter. The sun is high in the sky and there isn't a cloud to be seen. Spring is here.

To celebrate the occasion, I wanted to eat something green and fresh for lunch. It needed to be hot and comforting, since it's still cold out, but crisp and new tasting as well. I had bought a bunch of coriander and some limes at the grocery store the other day, sensing my impending need for something fragrant and green.

I made a puréed pea soup, a soup I make all year long. Today's version, however, I've never tried. It marked the occasion perfectly. The green of the peas is piercing and the coriander and lime complete the verdant triad.

This is a quick soup: five minutes or so to prepare. If you don't have coriander and lime, you could improvise: parsley and lemon, dill and sour cream, basil and some parmiggiano. Anything that adds spring to your soup!

SPRING PEA SOUP WITH CORIANDER AND LIME
Serves 1

1 cup frozen peas
1 cup water
1 handful of coriander leaves, minced
juice of 1/2 lime
1 tsp oil
salt and cayenne to taste

Put the peas and water into a saucepan and bring to a boil. Simmer for several minutes until the peas are cooked. Remove from heat.

Using an immersion blender, purée the peas. (If you don't have an immersion blender, you can pour the soup into a conventional blender.) Add the coriander, lime juice and oil. Season to taste and serve immediately.

Have you had your eggs today?

Eggs are in the air! Must be a sign of spring, I guess. Just days after sharing my recipe for uova in purgatorio, I have waiting for me in my blog reader this morning recipes for, you guessed it, eggs poached in sauce. This one is from one of my favourite food blogs, I'm Mad and I Eat, and explains how I used to get my tomato-y egg fix: done ramekin style in the oven (the fussy method I now have no patience for most days). She lists several other fellow bloggers’ versions including this one from Buff Chickpea done in a skillet with tons of veggies. Lots of chopping, but it looks great.

I’m heading to warmer climes on Wednesday and in my flurry of pre-vacation preparations, I am appreciative of fast food more than ever. My old favourites are serving me well (Death Row Beans in particular). My standby lunch is tuna with beans and celery, something I've made for years and was reacquainted with in David Rocco's Dolce Vita. I realize that I have neglected to share a recipe I make for myself at least three times a week. Yikes! It goes something like this:

1 4oz. can of tuna packed in olive oil, drained and emptied into a salad bowl (Callipo or Rio Mare brands are good)
1 rib celery, chopped
1/2 c canned beans, drained and rinsed (navy, white kidney or Romano beans work well)
juice from 1/4 lemon
1 glug of good olive oil
chopped parsley and salt and pepper to taste

Put all of these things in your bowl, toss them a bit and dig in. I make this for myself to go as well, throwing everything in a plastic container before leaving the house. It takes about three minutes to make.

P.S. Sorry for the weird title. What can I say? My head is already on vacation....

Blasphemy and best ever

I had to showcase B’s amazing BLT from yesterday lunch, his “best ever.” He doesn’t cook very often, but when he does he pulls out all the stops. This version had escarole (a bitter green) for the foliage and smoked salt to season. The bacon is our fave: low-salt and house smoked from Pusateri’s. I love when B cooks for himself. He takes such delight in his creations. Though his repertoire is limited, his attention to his craft is impeccable.

A couple of interesting links today:

This article from the New York Times’ Harold McGee (a.k.a. The Curious Cook) is on how much water you really need to cook pasta. He argues in favour of reducing the amount from the traditional 4-6L to 1.5L per pound of pasta, as well as putting the pasta in the cold water and allowing it to cook as the water heats. His point is green: less water means less energy consumed. I imagine waiting less time when cooking pasta to be a stronger incentive for most. As well, the resulting pasta water will have a more concentrated starchiness and taste that is perfect for thickening any sauce. His notes on these tips plus his canvassing of the Italian cooking elite (this method is “blasphemous”) are worth a read.

Sometimes we need to be reminded that even the greats have a run of bad luck. Molly Wizenberg over at Orangette gives us this candid account of her recent culinary disasters, photos included. Earlier this month, The Times of London declared Orangette top of the heap for food blogs (there are 33,000 of us) and for good reason. Her stories of her life in the kitchen are humorous and warm and her recipes are inspired. Try not to fall in love with her.

Presto indeed

Restrictions necessitate creativity. I guess the more familiar saying is “necessity is the mother of invention,” but I like my version better. Where would we be without our ability to make something great out of almost nothing? This is true for all art forms and, as I have discovered, cooking is no exception. Perhaps we could expand the maxim: laziness causes restrictions. Or, winter blahs nets fewer shopping trips which causes restrictions and thus necessitates creativity. Oi, my aching brain.

There are mitigating factors when it comes to cooking, the most obvious being hunger and available materials. I love to cook, experimenting with new flavours and ingredients, but as I have said before, sometimes I'm just too hungry to perform acts of culinary greatness. Or so I think. The wonder of cooking is that our common restrictions—nothing in the fridge, exhaustion, etc.—often produce miraculous (or if you prefer a less sensational adjective, unexpected) results.

Lately, I have been encouraged by the almost too enthusiastic Italian-Canadian David Rocco in his cookbook David Rocco's Dolce Vita. He corroborates my claim by pronouncing in his introduction that magic (or in his parlance, “alchemy”) is the method in cooking. Make your food and pay attention to the process. “Suddenly,” he writes, “you've created alchemy using the most ordinary ingredients.”

This morning I made his recipe for uova in purgatorio, or “eggs in purgatory,” a dish I had often made for myself before I had his book, though using a far more complicated method. I would make mine as you would œufs en cocotte, using warmed buttered ramekins submerged in a bain marie and baked to perfection in the oven, replacing the cream for tomato sauce. (The French, it seems, complicate everything.) In the crisp snap of fall last October, I must have made this three times a week. Now, deep in the fatigue of winter, this method is too involved. My head hurts just to think of performing the many steps to complete the recipe. Rocco to the rescue. In his version, simmer a 1/2 cup or so of tomato sauce in a pan, crack in the eggs, add some grated cheese, cover and turn off the heat. In about 5 minutes you have beautiful eggs poached in sauce. Presto.

My tomato sauce, another super-fast concoction, is also inspired from his book. It's another non recipe: too simple to require one of those annoying list of ingredients that make my eyes glaze over and my hand turn the page. Smash a clove of garlic and add it to a saucepan with about 3 Tbsp of olive oil. Wait for it to sizzle, then add one 26-oz. can of plum tomatoes, undrained. Crush up the tomatoes a bit with a utensil. Add any herbs of your choosing, fresh or dried (oregano, basil, parsley, bay leaf...). Bring to a boil and then simmer for at least five minutes, or the time it takes you to prepare whatever it is you're serving the sauce with (cooked pasta, meatballs, fried eggplant, sausages, etc.). Season to taste with salt and pepper. What could be easier?

I have other such instant discoveries I will be sharing with you over the next few days. In the meantime, do you have any fast food inspirations to share with me?

A note about canned tomatoes
ONLY BUY SAN MARZANO TOMATOES. This is the great secret of Italian tomato sauce. Mama Rosa told me so (though I had heard it years before by the owner of Positano). San Marzano tomatoes are D.O.P. certified in Italy, grown and packed in the traditional manner. They are more expensive than standard canned tomatoes (usually around $4/26-oz.), but they are worth it. I'm not a food snob per se, but in the case of canned tomatoes, there really is one kind. Since it’s a non-perishable, I don't mind buying something I know won't go to waste before I have a chance to eat it. After all, we would spend $3 minimum on a jar of prepared tomato sauce, something that invariably sits half-eaten and rotting at the back of the fridge. Trust me: You won't be able to resist eating your own sauce made with San Marzano tomatoes with everything. Several brands (Unico, Pastene and others) offer San Marzano tomatoes in their canned tomato family. I buy mine packaged by Pastene in yellow-labeled tins at Loblaws.

News about storing fresh parsley!
In the photo above, you can see a bunch of beautiful, fresh parsley leaves filling the top of the frame. Would you believe that bunch has been sitting in a vase on my counter for a week? No joke! I have taken to arranging my parsley in a drinking glass or small vase when I bring it home from the grocery store, putting a half-inch or so of water at the bottom of the jar to keep the ends moist and replacing the water every few days. I'm so happy I made this discovery. It’s pretty and such a time-saver: One less thing to pull out of the fridge when I'm cooking! If you try this, I guarantee you'll be adding fresh chopped parsley to every dish you make.

More greens please

Even though it's snowing outside, I felt for the first time this week the beginnings of spring. I don't know what it is: whether the sun is higher in the sky, or the days are slightly longer, or because the snow has mostly melted there is less cool air evaporating from the streets. Regardless, spring is in the air. Soon, the ground will thaw and new shoots will push through the once-frozen earth. I can sense them getting excited.

Perhaps this feeling of spring prompted my craving for spice. I have added hot pepper flakes to every meal this week. I even bought a prepared sauce, which I rarely do, and have enjoyed adding it to everything. It's a sweet teriyaki sauce, deep red speckled with pepper flakes and sesame seeds, all organic. The bottle was awkward, so I decanted into a jam jar and promptly took the original vessel to the curb. I don't recall the brand name or the ingredients list.

Buying prepared sauces is such a tease: the promise of the miracle sauce, everything you could ever want to taste in one bottle, and the disappointment upon realizing that you will be adding another mediocre confection to the angry mob of bottles already crowding your refrigerator. But, I fell for the new bottle the other day, perhaps because it was tall and thin like me, or that it promised organic goodness.

I also bought some new dishes from Ikea and have felt a flush of inspiration for new cuisine. Sautéed asian greens and napa cabbage, rice vermicelli, spicy rich chicken broths, and pulled chicken. My new dishes are pure white porcelain and showcase any meal so brilliantly. I especially love the plates I bought with little bowl-holders. I now imagine meals according to how I will configure food into this arrangement, and consequently I'm cooking differently than I normally do. Who knew that buying a few new dishes could inspire so much innovation?

As for methods, I have mothballed my steamer basket and am sautéeing leafy vegetables in garlic and oil. I use the Italian method, slicing a clove of garlic thinly, letting the slivers brown in hot oil and adding a pinch of hot pepper flakes before adding the chopped greens. Turn the greens in the pan, adding a few drops of water as needed if the pan is too dry. Finish with salt and/or any sauces you have vying for your attention in the fridge.

I love the velocity of this kind of preparation, the loud woosh sound the moist greens make as they hit the hot oil. I feel like a pro.

I'll leave you with this list from the New York Times of the top 11 healthy foods “you aren’t eating.” Hmm. Is that a challenge? I think so.

Instant risotto

February sucks. There's no way around feeling the blahs, especially when it's grey and raining like it was yesterday. I lose my inspiration for just about everything, especially cooking, so I'm glad when opportunity takes me by the hand and leads me in a new direction.

In this case, a combination of laziness and financial constraint has kept me at home and fending for myself by living off of the foods in my freezer. I arrive in the kitchen fainting from hunger and needing to fill myself with comforting food ASAP.

This risotto did the trick. Ordinarily, cooked from scratch, this dish would take about 25 minutes, which is too long by my hungry-meter. I mocked myself (as probably some of you did) when I said I freeze cooked rice in portions. Well, this recipe is the best reason I can think of to do so. I also have bacon frozen in two-strip quantities and frozen peas. Risotto in about 8 minutes. What could be better?

Now, to assuage the purists, this is not risotto. It's not arborio rice cooked in broth for just the right amount until the grains become little toothsome pearls in an iridescent sauce. It's mockzotto.

The key is with the egg. If you've ever made spaghetti carbonara (which you can watch my friend Linda make here) you'll remember that adding a beaten egg quickly to the pasta and bacon creates a velvety sauce, but cooked to long and it turns into scrambled egg. The same goes for this recipe. Make sure to remove your pan from the heat before you add the egg, mix it in quickly and serve. If not, you'll have fried rice with the eggy bits cooked solid.

Incidentally, I made mine with brown rice, verboten to true risotto, but it tasted really good.

INSTANT RISOTTO WITH BACON AND PEAS
Serves 1

1 tsp olive oil
2 strips bacon, cut into pieces
1 clove garlic, smashed
1/2 c cooked rice (brown or white)
1/4 c frozen peas
1 egg, beaten
1 Tbsp butter
2 Tbsp shredded hard salty cheese (Romano, Parmesan)
1 Tbsp chopped fresh parsley (optional)

In a skillet over medium heat, fry the bacon in the oil with the garlic. Be careful not to burn.

Defrost the peas and rice in the microwave for a couple of minutes if they are frozen solid. When the bacon is crisp, add the rice and peas to the pan. Cook until heated through, stirring frequently so the rice doesn't stick, about 5 minutes. Turn off the heat.

Add the egg, butter, cheese and parsley to the rice mixture and stir quickly to coat and heat through. Taste for seasoning, adding salt and pepper if desired. Serve immediately.

Whey more to eat

Aren't these pickles beautiful? I packed them yesterday and am patiently waiting for them to ferment so I can have a taste. They are pickled with salt, water and whey extracted from the yoghurt I have been making, a pickling process called lacto-fermentation. Right now, the jar is sitting at room temperature in a kitchen cupboard, pickling away. I get to taste them tomorrow evening.

I got my recipes for pickling from a cookbook called Nourishing Traditions. It's a political cookbook, designed to “challenge politically correct nutrition and the diet dictocrats.” The author, Sally Fallon, argues in favour of a diet high in animal fats, gelatin-rich broths, raw meat and lacto-fermented foods such as pickles and yoghurts to support good health. She explains herself in just under 700 pages, providing not just recipes but loads of references and justification for her version of the ideal diet. Regardless of whether or not she's right, I'm grateful to have found a philosophy of eating that is based on how my ancestors ate. It tastes right.

I have been enjoying eating two other foods lately:

1. Yoghurt cheese
I have been making yoghurt for several months now with my yoghurt maker, a very simple process that yields fabulous fresh yoghurt with no added thickeners or gelatins. Yoghurt cheese (or Greek yoghurt, or labaneh) is simply strained plain yoghurt. I put 500mL of plain yoghurt into a sieve lined with paper towels and let it stand over a bowl on the counter for several hours. The liquid that drips out of the yoghurt is whey, which is high in lactic acid and bacterial cultures and can be used for pickling, so keep it if you're interested (you can also drink it: it's very nutritious). The resulting yoghurt cheese will be thick like cream cheese and can be spread on bread, muffins and pancakes, added to dips and dressings or enjoyed on its own with honey (this is how the Greeks eat it). Two cups of yoghurt strained yields one cup of yoghurt cheese.

2. Chick pea soup
I've been making this recipe weekly for over a month and we don't get tired of it. It's filling and hearty: just the soup for cold fall days. Use vegetable stock or bouillon cubes if you prefer to chicken stock. The resulting soup will lack the animal protein but will be just as tasty.

CHICK PEA AND TOMATO SOUP
Serves 4

1 Tbsp olive oil
1 large garlic clove, peeled and smashed
1 28-oz can chick peas, drained and rinsed
1/2 28-oz can whole tomatoes
1 L chicken stock
1/2 tsp each dried rosemary and thyme
1/4 c extra virgin olive oil
1/4 c chopped fresh parsley
salt and pepper to taste

In a large pot over medium heat, warm the oil and add the garlic. When the garlic starts to sizzle, add the chick peas, tomatoes, stock and herbs. Turn the heat to high and bring to a boil then simmer, lid on, for 20 minutes.

Remove from the heat and add the oil and parsley and season with salt and pepper.

Fake baked beans

I have already admitted my love affair with beans. When it comes to baked beans, however, I am particularly nostalgic.

I have two childhood memories of baked beans. My mother used to make the real deal, the true baked beans soaked overnight and then slow cooked in the oven all day. She would use the same white Corning casserole dish for the beans that would scorch on the rim as the liquid reduced in the oven. The smoky sweet smell of bacon and maple syrup would fill the house all afternoon, and I would wait in anticipation for dinnertime. Back then, I was impressed by foods that were the result of hours of preparation. To my young mind, the caché of baked beans was only surpassed by pierogies, made from scratch only by my grandmother on her indulgent yet infrequent visits.

My second memory of baked beans is of the canned variety, which I also adored. This instant version, accompanied by steamed weiners and buttered toast, was often served for lunch at my then best friend's house by her English nanny. These lunches, along with others such as Kraft Dinner, Alphaghetti and instant chicken noodle soup, were my interpretation of high class food. Somehow I was aware and impressed by the expense of purchasing prepared food at a higher price. Strange though how at age eight, fine dining to me was either the result of hours of preparation or none at all.

And so, my beans. Until recently, I have satisfied my baked bean cravings by cracking a can of Heinz: Cravings are rarely met by cooking food that requires 24 hours of preparation. I have now created a recipe for fake baked beans, cooked on the stove in 20 minutes rather than in the oven for 8 hours. They taste better than canned, though probably not as good as the real thing. Slow cooked food, no matter how hard I try, can never be replaced.

FAKE BAKED BEANS
Serves 3-4

1 Tbsp oil
1 small onion, diced
1 19-oz can navy beans, drained and rinsed
1 cup water
1 Tbsp blackstrap molasses
1 Tbsp tomato paste
1 tsp Dijon mustard
Salt and pepper to taste
1 Tbsp pure maple syrup (optional)

In a medium-sized pot over medium heat, cook the onion in the oil until soft and translucent. Add the beans, water, molasses, tomato paste and mustard. Bring to a boil and stir until all ingredients are incorporated. Reduce heat and simmer 15-20 minutes with the lid off until the liquid has reduced by half. Season with salt and pepper. If using, stir in maple syrup.

NOTE: If you want to add bacon, dice two strips and fry in the oil before adding the onion. Continue with the rest of the recipe as described above.

Photo: Fake baked beans.

Fast food for one right now

As much as I love to cook, most of the time I don't have the energy to create new culinary masterpieces: I just want to fill my belly. As I invariably get swept away in whatever I'm up to in my life, my meal planning skills lie dormant somewhere, forgotten, unused. I inevitably find myself in the kitchen, shaking with hunger, realizing I've already eaten all the leftover Indian takeout and having to make something or starve. I haven't done the grocery shopping yet, so all that's left in the fridge are a few pieces of whatever vegetable I've committed myself to that week and my essentials.

Ah, the essentials. Every cookbook that considers itself a tome devotes a chapter to staple items no kitchen should ever be without. I recently purchased Alice Water's The Art of Simple Food to judge her take on the subject. Her list is quite extensive, divided into two categories (pantry staples and perishable staples). Clearly her list is to serve cooking in general rather than simply fast food. And, apparently she doesn't own a freezer, or doesn't condone using one, because freezer staples are absent from her list. Still, her direction is simple: “If your pantry and refrigerator are stocked with these ingredients, you can be secure in the knowledge that no matter what time it is, and no matter who shows up hungry on your doorstep, there will always be something to eat.” Here, here.

When it comes to fast food there are mitigating factors. One cannot wait for rice to cook, let alone overnight to soak beans, or several hours to defrost a whole pack of chicken breasts when you only want one. Sometimes, I can't bear waiting the 45 minutes it takes for the Indian food to arrive.

And so, here are my essential items, listed in no particular order. With these things, I have the keys to the kingdom, as the saying goes.

1. Tuna packed in olive oil, single serving size. This, to my mind, is the miracle food. Pop open the can (no can opener required), squeeze with lemon juice, and eat with a fork. It's the perfect protein to add to bean salads, toss with cooked pasta, mixed with egg and leftover cooked potato and fried into fish cakes. I find it in most supermarkets, usually up high or down low on the shelves. Look for Rio Mare in the salmon pink tins or Callipo in bright red. They're both made in Italy.
   
   
2. Canned beans. Soup or salad, done in ten minutes. Hearty and filling. Beans are peasant food for a reason. They are cheap and sustaining. As for the purists out there that think that beans cooked from soaked dried are better than canned, I have this to say: They taste different, not necessarily better, and when you're hungry, who cares? Search for the canned varieties and brands that you like for their texture, taste and price, and buy them in bulk.
   
   
3. Frozen single servings of meat. If you really want to conquer fast food, buy selection of resealable bags in various sizes and freeze everything in single servings. When you bring home meat from the market, take a few minutes to divide some or all into single portions. Even if you're cooking for more than just yourself, you'll appreciate the time it takes to defrost several individually-bagged chicken breasts by throwing them in a sink full of warm water for 15 minutes, versus the alternative: waging war with the defrost setting on your microwave, then prying apart half-frozen, half-cooked meat from the butcher tray. Buy a variety so you always have selection: chicken breasts, boneless chicken thighs, sausages, fish filets, chicken livers, even bacon. I began to use bacon so much more when I froze it in two strip packages. It adds instant flavour to any fast-food dish.
   
   
4. Frozen peas. This can really mean frozen vegetables, but I like peas the best. It is a myth that frozen vegetables are less nutritious than fresh, as vegetables from the freezer are usually processed right after harvest. Peas are sweet and cheerful, make instant soup with water and bouillon and add colour to any dish.
   
   
5. Frozen cooked brown rice. This may sound crazy, like a granny who freezes birthday cake bought on sale three months before the party, but it is such a time saver. Brown rice takes 40 minutes to cook, but its flavour and nutritional value far surpass white rice that it is worth the trouble. I have recently discovered that I can cook vast quantities of brown rice at one time and freeze it in small packages without any affect to taste or texture. I have also included my method for cooking brown rice, which is never clumpy or mushy, below.
   
   
6. Lemons. I feel incomplete and unprepared if I don't have lemons in the house. Hot water and lemon is my tonic of choice. Add the zest and juice to a chicken breast fried in butter you have a quick, flavourful favourite. Lemon is indispensable when cooking with beans or fish.
   
   
7. Flat-leaf Italian parsley. My husband and I have an ongoing disagreement that has become a joke. He argues that parsley has no flavour, whereas I think it's hugely fragrant and is my indispensible herb. The joke now goes like this. Me: Do you like your food? He: I don't know if I can taste this (insert main ingredient). It's so overwhelmed by the parsley. Ignore him. Parsley not only adds flavour, it adds colour, which is important for food to feel complete.
   
   
8. Eggs. I hope everybody knows this. Omelet or scrambled eggs is the fastest meal in the west. Take 5 minutes to heat the pan over medium-high heat, then add a nob of butter then the two beaten eggs and swish it around. In about 15 seconds, your eggs are ready. Season and serve.
   
   
9. Dried red lentils. This makes my husband's favourite soup, prepared in under 20 minutes. Bring 2 cups water to a boil in a saucepan, add 1/2 cup dried lentils and a chicken bouillon cube and simmer 15 minutes until the lentils have fallen apart. Finish with lemon juice and garlic- and/or chili-scented oil and serve.
   
   
10. Garlic- and/or chili-scented oils. Really, you don't need to worry about garlic, peeling, chopping, storing, if you finish or start your dish with garlic-scented oil. And if you feel like adding zing to your meal, sprinkle over some chili oil. Both are easy to make (see my instructions at bottom of this post) and keep on hand.
    
    
11. Chicken bouillon cubes. Find your favourite brand and keep them on hand. I like the one by McCormick in the dark green and white box. It's all-vegetable, MSG- and gluten-free, and it's tasty.
    
    
12. Butter. Salted for eating with baking and unsalted for cooking.
    
    
13. Oil and vinegar. Extra virgin olive oil for finishing and dressings, light olive oil for scented oils and sweet dressings, coconut oil for frying, white wine vinegar for full-bodied dressings and rice vinegar for sweet ones.
    
    
14. Tomato paste in a tube. This is another amazing Italian invention. Who wants even a small can of tomato paste when you only ever really use a tablespoon at a time? You can keep the tube in the fridge almost indefinitely and impart any dish with the sweetness of tomato without slopping in the real thing, canned or fresh. Again, you have to search in the tomato section, but this item is available in most supermarkets.
    
    
15. Dijon mustard. Emulsifies any dressing, making it creamy, smooth and full of flavour. Instant salad dressing: 1/4 cup oil, 1 Tbsp vinegar and a squirt of Dijon, salt and pepper. Combine ingredients in a glass jar, put on the lid, and shake.
    
    
16. Salt and pepper
    

Everyone has their own list. What's yours?


MAKING FROZEN BROWN RICE
I soak my rice for several hours before cooking because apparently it produces rice that is more nutritious and easily digested (though it's been a while since I've verified this claim). Nutrition aside, it also reduces the cooking time by half.

3 cups long grain brown rice
water

Fill a large pot with cold water and add rice. Soak the rice at least 1 hour or overnight in the fridge. Once soaked, drain and refill the pot with fresh water. Bring to a boil and then simmer for 20 minutes or until the grains are tender. Drain and rinse. Allow to cool before putting in bags and freezing.