Plus that squash is great food if you want to trim down some. I know when I stay true to winter squash et al–meaning there’s no silver bullet here and the idea is to eat a variety of  fresh seasonal vegetables–the scales tip in a favorable direction.

Long time friend in Northern Arizona says it’s true for him too. Here’s a shot of the harvest Bob sent along with a note:

Jean,

We have been eating a lot of this stuff this winter and have found that a piece of any kind of squash with a couple of poached eggs on it is an awesome breakfast. With something like half an acorn it is easy to turn it into a real show piece.

Now that Beth is retired I have been eating much more of her cooking and have lost twenty-five pounds. I went over to Mac’s and retrieved all his old Levis that now fit me.

Bob

[Note: Mac is my former husband, a tall bean pole of a Grand Canyon hiker guy while he walked the planet.]

****************

Squash goes great in a lunch box too. Here is fare I toted out one fall when there were still fresh tomatoes around. Nice meal it was:

sweet dumpling squash wedges
steamed beets
tomatoes
blue cheese
soynuts
on a bed of brown rice and garden greens
dressed with oil, vinegar, salt, and pepper.

A fraction of the cost of paying the man for unhealthy questionably sourced food as well.

Spaghetti squash is one of my favorites. Here’s a half ready for the oven on my griddle.

And here’s a warm salad I conjured up with it during pomegranate season over the holidays.

The flash cooked kale dressed with the usual suspects: oil, vinegar, salt, and pepper is a great foil to the sweet squash.

The walnuts and ruby jewel goodies help pull the whole thing off.

Speaking of squash, here’s what my oven looked like this morning.

Baking up some squash ahead for dinner.
Roasting some garlic to spread on polenta.
And warming some spice bread I made with squash for breakfast.

Not only did I get some nice food ready for later, the kitchen got warm enough to make folks want to linger a bit over coffee.

Not a bad deal all in all.

Oh. Did I say I’m down too?

Closing in on ten pounds and feeling skppety-do-dah.

Breakfast. This morning. Out came a clean pot and in went organic polenta from the bulk bins for a new batch of porridge. Stir, stir, stir. Then to the garden to round up what have you. A couple scallions. A handful of young fava beans. Back in the hippie kitchen. Choppity- chop for the veggies and into the pot they went. Just a quick stir and then covering to let hot golden polenta turn the greens al dente.

Fry an egg. Grab a couple roasted chiles. Ultrafast. Healthy. Thrifty. Local/Seasonal. Me and Swish were ready to feast.

Oh–and that last fava that turned up in my pocket unchopped and uncooked. I just chomped that down au naturelle, tender and young freshly picked as it was…

In case you haven’t appreciate what a radical tune Jimmy Crack Corn is before, here are the lyrics:

When I was young I used to wait
On master and hand him his plate
Pass him the bottle when he got dry
And brush away the blue-tail fly

Chorus

Jimmy crack corn, and I don’t care
Jimmy crack corn, and I don’t care
Jimmy crack corn, and I don’t care
My master’s gone away

When he would ride in the afternoon
I’d follow him with my hickory broom
The pony being rather shy
When bitten by the blue-tail fly

Chorus

One day he rode around the farm
Flies so numerous that they did swarm
One chanced to bite him on the thigh
The devil take the blue-tail fly

Chorus

Well the pony jumped, he start, he pitch
He threw my master in the ditch
He died and the jury wondered why
The verdict was the blue-tail fly

Chorus

Now he lies beneath the ‘simmon tree
His epitaph is there to see
Beneath this stone I’m forced to lie
The victim of the blue-tail fly

But my garden squash patch is almost entirely devoted to spaghetti because it’s such a work horse in flash-cooked warm salads. On the previous post, Getting Our Acts Together, I showed how prettily spaghy dressed up a New Year’s potluck dish (that I took to KCC). And how easily I got fed the following day by simply making some gremolata to go with.

Now here’s day three. Still spaghetti squash waiting in the fridge so I got a full blast burner going under my cast iron wok, poured in a puddle of water, grated a broccoli stem and gave the florets a brief chop. Into the steaming heat the good greens went along with some scooped out spaghetti squash. By the time I found some olives to toss in and a plate, the squash was warm and broc al dente.

Dressing was some olive oil poured over, pinch of coarse salt, grind of black pepper, lemon zest grated right on top, lotsa fresh squeeze lemon juice to follow, and a big fluffy grating of parmesan using my hand dandy microplane.

Yup, I could have stopped to mince some garlic but I didn’t and things were luscious with the olives especially saying, “hello.”

So, that’s getting on a roll with spaghetti squash, day 3. You can put it in a blender with eggs and cornmeal to bake up like pizza crust and top it with the usual too. Who knows, day 4 might just roll on out with that little number–or even some big puffy yellow muffins. How about you? Into to getting around and getting on a roll?

Here’s how ultrafast cooking works in my hippie kitchen. In the morning when I’m having breakfast, I steam up a pot of quinoa. This grain cooks in 10 minutes and has the highest protein of them all. I leave it sitting out at room temperature and then when dinner comes along all’s that needs doing is chopping the last of the garden tomatoes, walking outside and plucking the end of the basil, and dressing with a polite pour of olive oil, swig of red wine vinegar, coarse salt, and fresh crack of peppper from the grinder.

All that and I get some leftover quinoa to put in a soup the next day or even mix with an egg and minced celery and onion to fry up into crisp patties. Yep. Having a pot of leftover whole grain around–whether it be millet, amaranth, wheat berries, brown rice, or quinoa–can make your kitchen life easy, frugal, healthy, and wise.

So rock & roll. It’s easy to make simple everyday food in your own kitchen. Fun too since you get to be the boss.

“It’s empty!” they remark. “And you’re a cook?” they say. “What’s up?”

What’s up is that I like food that’s freshly made from scratch and also that I work with leftovers right away, usually in the next meal. Also that I see the big boxes in our kitchens for what they are. Seductive. Power-grabbing. And not always as necessary as they’ve convinced us they are.

Oftentimes thinking back pre-something or other can help us get a purchase on our current experience. In this case, think pre-refrigeration. Back to the days of the ice box. To when the carts came by the houses with blocks of ice in sawdust for the lovely old ice boxes.

Point being, there wasn’t much room in these babies. So the women thought about what they used the precious space for.

Now transport yourself to the 1980s on the Hopi Mesas where I was living next door to Joyce Tawayesva. Way up top on the rocky bluffs where they’d just got electricity the year before. Ma, as everyone called Joyce, had a fridge, but she still operated the old way. We ate leftovers the next day before they spoiled. We kept the food moving. No plastic containers of it piling up in the corners of a fridge to get old and unpalatable. No store bought stuff since the stores were far away.

It’s true that the stew Ma and I often ate for breakfast was pretty humble fare–so humble that when they had a chance, the kids and grandpa went for milky cold cereal. But Ma and I made it fun. We roasted some fresh chile to go with, and there was always freshly baked yeast rolls to dip in the broth. Plus that, the flavor of the stew would improve overnight. At least I think it did. It was either that or simply a function of eating out of the limelight of dinner. Just her and me there in the slow morning, not saying too much except for a gentle chuckle now and then. Probably it was both. But no need to put too fine a point on it.

That’s because the real issue is how we think about food and work with it. In my hippie kitchen these days, there’s no old fashioned ice box–even though I could dig one. And there’s no Hopi stew. But I do celebrate food. I don’t waste it. I like it fresh and gorgeous. So when there are leftovers–and here’s the key–they become part of the next inspiration.

Case in point: polenta. I made a pot up for some waffles yesterday.

Oftentimes I just stick the pot of porridge in the fridge for more waffles the next day. This time, though, I poured it into a pan to harden. Then I flashed cooked a bunch of french cut green beans and tossed them with some cubed polenta and pecorino for a brunch salad of sorts.

And the beat goes on. Leftover veggies? Into a frittata they go–or a soup or tabbouleh-style cozied up to some steamed grain for a salad. Or if you’re into pasta, rocking & rolling that way.

So you get the idea and it’s not particularly a new one–that of using leftovers. The take home point of this post, though, is the immediacy of it. While they’re only a meal from coming into your reality, leftover food still has appeal. That’s because it’s still fresh. So all it takes is for the cook to creative and give it a little spin–toss in some raisins, play around with the fresh lemon juice. grab the nutbutter. Whatever.

I think if you go slowly and explore this way of thinking about food, you’ll find that you don’t think in terms of “oh I’m having the same thing again.” And it’s not because the “thing,” the food from the previous meal, is disguised in any way. Rather it’s because it has a fresh spin. Some minced parsley. Some cream. Hues in a thousand shades that as artists know are what give a piece the nuanced sophistication people love.

So go ahead. Be a sophisticated lady–or gent. Dazzle yourself–and pocket money you’ll save on your food bill. You can use that to buy an ice box once you decide–as I ponder from time to time–to toss that hulking refrigerator out the door.

As you can see, when fava beans are fresh picked young and tender, they are beautifully ready to go straight from the pods. No second peeling needed at all. I discovered this simply by working with fava beans from my own garden, and then was gratified to see Italian and Spanish cooks echoing my experience in their books.

With the double peel debate settled, then what to do with fava beans? First is to think of them like a fresh bean. Once you do that you can rock and roll just like I do in Hippie Kitchen. The official recipe is called Fava Bean Sass, a dish made by flash cooking the favas then tossing them with spicy peanut sauce that includes diced apple and shredded carrot to sweeten things. So simple. So delicious. So thrifty–especially if you planted favas in February and are now about ready to harvest them.

The main thing that makes a measure free hippie kitchen work, though, is getting on a roll with things. So once I’ve got a new vegetable or recipe idea in tow, I play-play. If you try this I think you’ll find that eating with the seasons–as in fava beans for days on end while they are the happening thing–does not get boring.

The second round with favas I suggest on page 54 of Hippie Kitchen is incorporating them into a grain salad with leftover millet, radishes, and raisins. A little dressing and you have a balanced spring primavera in one bowl.

Fun, you say, but there’s more favas coming through the door daily. No problem, flash cook them as always with spring onions and green garlic. Spoon the works into warm corn tortillas and top with blue cheese. Then name this Fava Bean Heaven.

———-I hope I’ve piqued your interest in these early summer beans. They are great since along with the peas they are among the first food to grace our gardens and appear in the markets. And if you aren’t growing them just yet and do have to buy favas that need double peeling, don’t give up. Once they are flash cooked, they pop right out of their casings whether the cook does it all ahead or people do it themselves–together at the table while they slow down to relish the harvest whether it’s in a hash, warm salad, or pizza pie.

I don’t have the recipe written up just yet, but I did dutifully put dried apricots in along with walnuts. Just the kind of muffin people would think is fun alongside the salad.

But, after behaving so well momentarily, I went back to my usual approach to cooking. I was on a muffins roll, but I certainly didn’t mess with the muffin tins again, pain in the neck that they are–both in fussing around with the knife to get each muffin out (and no I don’t want to use those paper cup thingies) and in washing the tins.

So it was back to cast iron as usual. My small pan since it was just me for breakfast. And yes, the center wasn’t quite done because of the size of the pan. And yes, I ate it anyway. And yes, it tasted as good as those chocolate lava cakes that came to be all the rage in precisely the same fashion: someone underbaked the cake and said, “This gooey part is the best!”

The vehicle shift was just the tip of the iceberg of course. The apricots and walnuts were gone. In their stead were two green apples, meat from half an acorn squash, and poppy seeds.

Which brings me to the real gist of this post: using your great big winter squashes. So many ways here besides freshly baked. Baked winter squashes whether acorns or spaghettis or butternut go into everything and anything: quick breads, warm salads with wintergreens and raisins, and pudding like custards or pies. Then again think sauces or gravies and get creative. Smash some of your winter squash into a roux of butter and flour, and whisk in milk. You’ll have a rather interesting brew for your broccoli.

I was reading in Rick Bayless’s work the other day and he noted how exceptionally creative Mexican cooks are. I snorted because in my mind he missed the point. It’s not Mexican cooks per se, it’s impoverished cooks. As in necessity breeds invention.

I know it’s been this way for me, divorced as I am from the land of crinkly packages in part because it’s too expensive. Without all those goodies around, I have to cook from scratch. Have to make use of things in the refrig like great big winter squashes. And in the process I discover over and again all kinds of delightful ways to spin food.

It’s like the difference between being a spectator at a sport and the actual players. The former sits and consumes and gets dull. The latter is up and active and engaged. She plays a vital roll in what comes down. She feels good. She’s empowered.

Flash cooking is the heart of my kitchen scene. It nets me plenty of fresh seasonal vegetables in short order–warm salad style. I’ve talked about it many times here on the blog, but people resonate with the idea so, that we did a video. It’s a 6 minute clip from chopping the onion to chowing down. There’s also a section devoted to it in Hippie Kitchen: 43-45. Think stir fry without the oil, Asian vegetables, or Asian flavors.

If you’re still buying canned beans, here’s a vid to inspire you to keep your money and take back your kitchen. After all a big pot of beans freezes up in to small containers beautifully and you’re set for a week or two.

This post is for one of the women at the last cooking class I did. I was talking about how much it streamlines cooking when you keep things you use a lot out handy. She wanted to know what was out on my counter.

Well, here it is–at least this is how it looked at one point not long ago by the looks of the unheaded cabbage from the garden that I was getting ready to flash cook.

Mainly there’s a bunch of vinegars and even a wedge of lime left from the last go round. Beyond that in the fun yellow dish is salt, red chile pepper in the green depression glass, a black pepper mill, cinnamon and a pretty spoon in the orange pot, soda in the tiny powder blue dish, and whole nutmeg in the white dish with the piano score.  Oftentimes there are bouquets of fresh herbs too–big ones of parsley and cilantro when I get those herbs store bought and a small one of mixed herbs from my garden, the various sprigs of summer savory, mint, thyme, rosemary, and sage each clamoring to be chosen. There’s usually a bottle of good oil sitting there as well to complete what are essentially the components for making vegetables taste good–whether you’re dressing a cold salad or dolling up a soup or warm salad.

This is just my scene at the moment, though. You can count on it to change as I get on a roll with this and that. Sometimes the dry mustard will come out of the cupboard and take a handy place. Other times there might be a bottle of fish sauce lurking about–since after being in Thailand I discovered how fabulous a conservative squirt of this anchovy elixir makes so many dishes, Thai or not, taste. Then again, sometimes the spices aren’t around at all when I switch into a mode of working mainly with the classic quartet our grandmothers understood so very very well: oil, vinegar, salt and pepper.

Having things out handy. It doesn’t take much. You get to be an artist if you want and stash your bits and bobs in pretty vessels. Mostly, though, when it comes time to cook, things are at the ready and you’ll find yourself less inclined to grab bottles of prefab dressings and sauces. As my accordian-playing grandmother from Norway used to say, “Here’s hoping…”