In this case, there were leftover French lentils and quinoa in the fridge–so into the bowl they went with some jarred roasted red peppers, a pear from the season’s end, and a handful of raisins.

Next a quick troll through the garden for a clutch of kale and cabbage leaves and a stalk of immature green garlic that I treated like a scallion. Flip the high heat on under a puddle of water in the cast iron wok. Choppity chop and into the wok. In half a minute the works has wilted nicely, so off goes the heat and into the bowl go the veggies.

Then some olive oil in the work and a bunch of local hazelnuts. Stir-stir while they toast a little, and over the salad they go, oil in tow.

Red wine vinegar, coarse salt, a crack of fresh pepper, and a scatter of red chile flakes.

This baby was done, and boy was it a lip smacker. “Beans and rice” never tasted so fine–just like my new hero Dave Ramsey knows.

Sing it Dave!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

BEANS AND RICE (RICE AND BEANS)
Copyright Scott Dawson Songs 2008

Fannie Mae, GMAC and MasterCard
Had control of me
I was sinking, sinking in a river of debt
When a friend
Shared with me
A radio personality
With a message
That I wouldn’t soon forget

Act your wage, budget the till
Name every dollar bill
Sell the Rolex, the speedboat and SUV’s
The only time you shall haunt
Your neighborhood restaurant
Will be working
As a server for Applebee’s

So I’m squeezing every dime
No fish, no beef, no pork
Now when dinnertime rolls around
I don’t even need a fork

Rice and beans
Beans and rice
Keeps me fed for a modest price
I’m adjusting
To living on beans and rice I got pintos, kidneys, limas too
With a can of spam I got
Poor man’s stew
Thanks Dave Ramsey
For teaching me beans and rice

Rice and beans
Beans and rice
Cayenne pepper and a onion slice
Mighty tasty
I’m cooking up beans and rice

I got long grain, short grain
Wild and brown
This recipe is spreading all over town
I’m making progress
By living on beans and rice Someday soon
You’ll hear me
On the air screaming “I’m debt free”
But until then
I’m living on beans and rice

Americans! We Can Eat Well & Tighten Our Belts! There was a time when only the rich could afford expensive spices. Ah, yes. We all remember the famed Spice Route to Asia. Just Google it, and you’ll find maps, mystery, and intrigue. You’ll find references to cardamom, turmeric, ginger, and cinnamon. Those wonderfully exotic sticks and pods and blossoms and powders.

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So, what better way to eat well while tightening our belts than to make full use of the riches in our cupboards. Of the full range of spices that are there just waiting for us to pop the lids–or even better, do them up fresh in our coffee grinders.

Spices really do make Plain Jane food sing–plain food as humble as beans & rice.

Here’s to dipping pears in butter and allspice, lacing quinoa with cardamom, and putting pinches of coriander, cumin, and cayenne in a pot of pintos. Totally amazing how a little spice can make food rock.

Here in Portland, Oregon, it’s as if Mother Nature threw a switch and autumn commenced. I’m sure golden days are yet to come, but at the moment it’s brisk and cloudy. Gone are the fresh tomatoes and the lean, clean flavors that taste so great when it’s hot. Here are chiles and spices and everything that make fall and the holidays so enticing, so mysterious, so fragrant and alluring.

Pictured are the outrageously hot Thai chiles, fresh from the Asian grocery down the street. One of these babies minced together with garlic puts serious wow-appeal in everything from soup to warm salads.

Then, of course, there’s the whole nutmeg. It goes on my cereal daily, fresh off the petite rasp grater a friend gave me. Once you get a taste–and a yen for the arresting smell–of fresh spices, you’ll be hard put to settle for the preground stuff.

The green pods are cardamom, that potent spice favored by Scandinavians for cookies, breads, and fruit soups. I’ve found that it also is lovely for dipped pears and oranges–as well as almonds. In fact, I included a recipe note for cardamom almonds in Beyond Measure–basically tossing toasted almonds in melted butter and dusting them with peppery cardamom.

Cardamom pods are great to work with while you’re watching one of the presidential debates or the latest news on our fearsome economy. Before I settle in in front of the tube, I crack the outer husks on the cutting board with a rolling pin. Then it’s just a matter of picking the dark brown spice out.

Once your tv-watching for the evening has come to a conclusion, a quick whirl in the coffee bean grinder nets you fresh, fragrant cardamom that will stay lovely throughout the holidays. Also cardamom’s bold smell is a great antidote for whatever you saw on the tube that didn’t set quite right. Free aroma-therapy and all that jazz.

Actually, the real story today is about black cap raspberries–the berries my new neighbor Nick brought from his grandparents farmstead out in Sandy, Oregon. Black raspberries to match the black, gothic attire he sports. The berries were an unusual, delicious treat on cereal this morning, but wouldn’t you know, the photos were less than stellar. So we’ll have to limp along with the image above and these notes from two weeks ago:

The raspberry season is about over–at least on Grandpa’s vines–so I got fancy and invited the neighbors over. Some dark chocolate ganache, powdered sugar in the center, and a pitcher of cream served alongside. The ganache is a piece of cake. Melt an equal part chocolate into some cream, whisking until you’ve got something smooth to chill.

The Hot Chile Pepper Cookies surrounding the footed plate were fun too, and a real hit. That recipe’s a bit more complicated and coming out in Hippie Kitchen. Enough said here that it’s the red chile flakes that make these gems–not to mention the whole wheat pastry flour and good butter from mama cows who get out to pasture.

Linda’s my new pal. She knows about computers and business and such. So what could I do when she arrived once again to help the cause, but offer a munch.

It was mainly leftovers that took me 15 minutes to pull together. Mahi mahi (because when I talked to Gary last week that was what he was making) and crook neck squash from the grill that I’d done the night before, lettuces from the garden, and warmed corn tortillas into which to fold the fish along with some blue cheese.

The usual suspects were there: fish sauce and red chile into the warmed mahi mahi, olive oil worked onto the lettuces with my hands, fresh cracked pepper, pinches of coarse salt.

Linda ate with the same relish I do. She loved my simple, affordable measurefree food. She can come to dinner at mi casa any time.

Speaking of the living being easy, you might notice the braids of garlic in the photo. I spent a joyful evening a couple weeks ago harvesting. It’s a first for me to grow a year’s supply of garlic and the feeling of provisioning the larder is quite nice. My braids ain’t half bad either for a newbie, don’t you think?

I took this shot one of the rare days when the griddle was not in use on the stove. A wash in the background except you get a glimpse of some of the students I worked with in the Hopi and Navajo nations. Indeed, it was in Indian Country that I first appreciated what a little chile does to food. That foundation served me well as I continued to explore cuisines around the world and discovered how to use chile in everything from Thai to Mexican food.

It wasn’t always that way. The first time I chopped up a jalapeno like the ones pictured, it was back in the Sixties. I didn’t know what I was working with other than trying to eat more interesting food than the mainstream was dishing up. So when I brushed my cheek and a burn the size of Texas didn’t let go for a good hour, I jettisoned the peppers. “If they do that to my cheek, I’m definitely not putting them in our food,” I told my husband.

These days it’s different. I appreciate that just like cayenne, hot chiles go a long way–yet do so much for food. There’s rarely a soup or warm salad that gets made in my kitchen without some jalapenos or other hot chile minced into the garlic and added for some kick. And if kick isn’t what we need as February takes up January’s mantle, I don’t know what is.

It’s easy to mince up some zippy garlic salt to cure the January blues. Quesadillas, tuna melts, soups, and eggs all soar to new heights when treated to some of this very excellent brew. You can boldly dose the pot on behalf of everyone or simply put a small plate of this lovely mince on the table.

A good pinch of coarse salt, two or three cloves of peeled garlic, and a few of whatever kind of dried hot chile peppers you have on hand is all it takes.

If you have a copy of Hippie Kitchen, the above is simply a riff on the last recipe note in the book: Crazy Diamond Garlic Butter. So shine on….

Here are the stuffed dates I talked about a few posts ago. Also fresh pears and clementines dipped in melted butter and flax meal spiced with cinnamon, cardamom, and allspice with nary a speck of sugar in the mix. Almonds and pomegranate seeds finish this lovely presentation.

If you want more info and other ideas on sweet treats that don’t rely on refined sugar or sugar substitutes, check out the Endings chapter in Cooking Beyond Measure. The hand dipped fruits are on p 193.

Happy Holidays All!

We in the Pacific Northwest take our java seriously with freshly ground beans that are fairly traded and organically grown.

I made this fancy-pants cup of joe in my own kitchen with a none too pricey espresso machine. The trick is to steam the milk (that hopefully comes from a dairy close to you that engages in sustainable practices) in the cup and then set the cup under the coffee jet.

Once you get a nice fat band of milky brew, you can keep the drink warm by capping it with foam from your steamed milk pitcher.

Then all you need is to grate some fresh nutmeg over the works. Fresh grated nutmeg done with nothing more than a small cooking rasp is such a fragrant touch and has none of the sugar commercial nutmeg preparations contain. Together with the ethically produced coffee and milk, it makes for a very righteous holiday cuppa.