Let’s keep it simple to start. Simple not only for the sake of explanation but also because making food taste good really can be done very simply. The pantry items I used for my New Year’s potluck dish were nothing more than the sacred quartet: oil, vinegar, salt, pepper (as in red chile peper because who says the only pepper in town is black). The key was that they were handy and inviting in their fun bottles and pots. Oil and vinegar sitting out within arm’s reach in blue glass. A pot of coarse salt (the yellow dish from Itay) that I can dip into. Ditto with red chile pepper (in the footed dish of green Depression glass). You can see there’s also a black pepper mill and some garlic there along with kitchen tools ready and waiting.

As far as how it all worked, I had half a baked spaghetti squash waiting in the fridge and a packet of green beans thawing in the kitchen sink (both items, I’m pleased to say, where from my summer garden).

Then there was the end of a pot of homemade veg soup that got a whiz in the blender and then enough whole wheat flour to turn it into goop akin to mashed potatoes. This made veggie patties that I fried up on my cast iron griddle–an item that hangs conveniently on the wall above my stove. Yes, it’s true that if I’d had a couple eggs to stir in they would have been lighter. And also that some wheat sprouts or chopped walnuts would have added interest. But there you have it, my pantry was on the bare side, so I had make do.

If you can picture yourself putting this dish together…here you are at the counter with a nice platter for your arrangement. (In this case an oven proof quiche dish for reheating later on.)

You get the green beans out and give them a nice chop (if you didn’t already French cut them when you froze them last fall as I did). Then grab your olive oil and use your fingers. That way you can tell when your beans are nicely coated. Same routine for the spaghetti squash, your fingers being quite useful for pulling the strands apart as well. Once your lovely green and yellow circles are in place, you can nab the vinegar for a healthy sprinkling. Then some coarse salt and red chile flakes–the secret on the latter being not to over do.

All that’s left to finish this dish is a bowl of dip in the middle and the patties arranged around the edge. For me that day, no yogurt or humus in sight, so it was my home canned plum sauce from the summer that served as the dippity-do-dah. A few more red chile flakes over that for pretty-pretty and the deed was done. Ready for people at the buffet to shovel up some green beans and spaghetti squash, nab a patty and spoon on a little plum sauce.

It was quick to make, too. From start to finish I guess about a half hour including doing the veggie patties. Also yes, it depended on me working right along through the year and putting things like plum sauce up during harvest. Or at least buying things at the store with an eye toward mixing and matching. In addition to the sacred quartet, there’s keeping winter squash on hand. Not only spaghetti but other kinds, and when you bake them always do extra for on down the pike as they’ll keep a good week in the fridge. Same with the green beans or some other kind of green vegetable besides those boring old salad greens. Kale. Broc. Those are my choices this time of year if you don’t have a supply of others put up from your summer garden.

The other part of this equation is frugality. You can see I didn’t make many veggie patties. That’s because there wasn’t much soup left. The key, though, is that I did not throw it out. Why? Because I grew most of the vegetables in the pot and couldn’t bear to see them wasted. More, I thought, was the brew was blenderized, it was perfectly good goop to use for most anything. In this case the patties; another day it might have been the liquid in some homemade focaccia.

That’s the method to the madness around this measure free hippie kitchen. Hope it helps the cause in your kitchen too as the New Year kicks in. Here’s to healthy, wealthy, wise, and rocking & rolling….

If you’ve followed me much, you know that I like getting on a roll. Here’s what my lunch the next day looked like.

Spaghetti squash fluffed up on a plate, dressed with olive oil and fresh lemon juice (once you’ve captured it’s zest). Some gremolata spooned over and Parmesan grated around the edge. So delicious and easy. Healthy. Seasonal. The works. And if you don’t speak gremolata, let me introduce you to minced parsley flavored with garlic and lemon zest.

Cut the stems off your bunch of Italian parsley (nice with its flat leaves but use the curly stuff if that’s all you have) just above the tie thing. Then get your sharp chef’s knife and mince away until you have no visible stems or leaves left–until the parsley brew is fine indeed. Then mince equally fine, a clove or two of garlic. (If you have a deep mortar and pestle you can pound the garlic instead of mincing, but whatever–all roads lead to Rome.) Then take a microplane and zest a lemon or two.

Mix the works into a nice blend, and you just made gremolata–something that goes as easily on fish as it does on spaghetti squash.

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…”

After my comments on pesticides and apples in The Measure Free Weekly last time, I was especially pleased to have a box of apples in the basement from friend and gardener, Laura Berg.

Laura is also, if you’ll remember from her comment on last week’s blogpost, the care taker of HH. Clearly more will be revealed on that subject as time goes by.

In any event, on the apples. This kind isn’t especially a good keeper, so I quartered them and put them in a slow oven with some water. Now they’re ready for the freezer–and then, of course, to pull out come winter for warming with cinnamon and nutmeg and spooning onto cereal, stirring into quick breads, and brewing down into sauces and syrups.

Fabulous. Fall apples. This year’s crop. Not a chemical in their genes. Or those that consume them. No wonder Celeste has given HH’s overture more than passing notice. She apparently understands that he’s part of a family that is clear on its priorities.

Celeste has turned into a camera hound since she heard HH, a male frog in our town, spotted her on the back cover of Beyond Measure. She sniffs that she’s not too interested, but the truth is, she invited him over once harvest is on the wane.

So you can see, she has me hard at it. Trays full of whatever bounty comes through the door, roasting in the oven. Then it’s just a matter of bagging them up in ziplocks. Or even freezing first on the trays and then bagging so come winter we can pull out just what we need.

Plums, peppers, and tomatoes roast beautifully–and it’s so much easier that stirring a pot on the stove and worrying about burning. I also did some peaches and oh, the smells in the kitchen. Even Celeste was distracted from her romantic interest momentarily. Then there are apples. Roasted apples. Talk about having your kitchen smell homey and good. And getting harvest’s bounty put up easily and quickly.

Yes, basking in the aroma of roasted food. Earthy. Elemental. Something that strikes a chord in creatures of all kinds.

This shot was at breakfast per the cup of black coffee and bowl of cereal. Then there’s a tray of winter squash ready for the oven and a basket of kale from the garden waiting for all manner of magic along with a beautiful lemon.

Clearly my stove is nothing extra, but it does yeoman service making tea in my grandmother’s copper kettle and firing up my cast iron wok that has found a home on the large back burner and is hidden here by the basket.

Taking the doors off the cupboards above was helpful for me. Now I can see my spices and herbs at a glance, and it’s a breeze to simply pour a bit out in a jar lid before adding to whatever I’m conjuring up. Having things at the ready really helps when you’re pulling food together quickly.

Apparently I’d been on a roll with polenta as well when I took this as I see the large jar of polenta off to the side, complete with the red-handled ice cream scoop that I spoon it out with. After all, life is art, so it’s got to be fun. At least that’s what the spotted dog, Abbey, sitting on the back of the stove tells me beside the frog Celeste.

If you hang around long, you’ll find that measure free cooking doesn’t require spendy equipment–or much equipment. There are, though, a few things that I find indispensable, and one of them is a nice deep mortar and pestle. As you can see in the image, the mortar is simply clay and the pestle, nothing more than a stout piece of wood for pounding away. Yet, so important I feature it in Cooking Beyond Measure on page 65.

This smashing device is great fun. Like plucking chickens used to be. Once you get done, whatever stress your had when you started is long gone–even though smashing up a clove of garlic and a few basil leaves is lots speedier and considerably less grisly than I imagine plucking a bird is.

I didn’t have a mortar and pestle until last February when I finally got my first passport visited ex-patriot friends from the Sixties in Bangkok. It was great to reunite with them, and also great to bond with the woman who cooks for them. When my two weeks was up, Dang made sure I got one of the Thai mortar and pestles I watched her use so adeptly during my stay.

For months it just sat around in my kitchen, but after I spoke with a Jordanian friend recently, asking her about tabbouleh, Rula talked in terms not of mincing, but of pounding the garlic with the salt.

Not that I have used my mortar for either Thai or Middle Eastern food just yet. As it turned out it’s maiden voyage was for a version of pesto. I had some vine-ripened tomatoes I wanted to dress, and I thought it might be easier to pound the fresh basil and garlic cloves that it would be to do all that chiffonading and mincing–or for that matter, deal with the food processor or blender.

Not entirely trusting the process just yet, I did give the basil and garlic a quick rough chop before shunting it into the mortar. But then, it was just little pour of olive oil and a bit of pounding to produce very lovely pesto. No wonder that’s why Mediterraneans have always done proper pestos this way. Not only is it quick, the result has character with some pieces smashing down to nothing while others remain almost leaf-like.

I’m a convert. The smashing took all of a minute or two. More swabbing of my chopping board and rinsing of the mortar was a breeze–much easier than dealing with the blender pitcher or food processing tubs.

I will definitely try this again when the it’s time to make some official pesto. Plus, now that I realize how easy it is, I’ll for sure be trying to mimic some of what I learned in Thailand, not to mention whipping out some tabbouleh.

So get thyself a smashing device and come along on the flash cooking ride. As I noted in my very first post on this blog two weeks ago, any Asian market should carry these. If not a google search will bring one up for mail order.

Per the photo above, get a deep one. That way the stuff does not splash out. More, one made from clay with a wooden pestle will clearly be more affordable that fancy marble or stone kinds. These types might work great for spices, but for working up some garlic, basil, et al, overkill unless you aren’t on a budget.

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Note on Coarse Salt: In the photo you can also see my yellow dish of coarse salt. It sits out on my work surface all the time, making it easy for me to nab a pinch when I want. I buy my salt in the bulk bins at New Seasons, a local Portland chain of whole foods grocers. It’s cheap, and it’s good.