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.

As far as crust goes, it’s my usual whole wheat pastry-organic butter version at a ratio of one part flour to a half part butter. For this crust I used a cup of flour to a stick of butter plus a couple good pinches of salt. Here’s more on the technique if you need it.

A quick swab of the cutting board. And the deal’s done–plenty of time still to listen to Pure Prairie League’s Amie, isn’t that right Sandy?

These little stovetop cornbreads are quick, warm, crowd pleasers. On tours I make them round, stuffed with cheese or refried beans drawing on gorditas and empanadas as my guide.

In April 2010, though, Justine, a Facebook pal from Southern California, shipped a box of avocadoes from her tree, and inspired these corn crescents.

Details

~Use the usual ratio of one teaspoon leavening to a cup of cornmeal/flour. On the cornmeal/flour ratio, it’s generally three to four parts meal for each part flour. One to two tablespoons of butter for each cup of masa/flour softens the dough nicely.

~Taking time to knead your dough some makes for cakes that puff some when fried.

If you want to see me on camera whipping these lovelies up, just scroll on down.

The recipe for Rolled Ups is on page 38 of Cooking Beyond Measure, and you can find Thai Slaw on page 139.

As my mother used to say, “These are so good you could peddle it!”

Really, truly–I could live on these babies…

Here’s hopin’ you give them a whirl. Even picky husbands and pb&j kids like Thai Slaw Rolls.

A moment of silence. My brows arched.

“Is he a boy?”

That’s where it started and since then it’s been a few of us old biddies hatching plans and match-making in the best of traditions.

Why? Just a goof really. But also more about lightening up and not taking the kitchen so friggin’ (or froggin’) seriously.

That’s why even though Celeste insisted on the back cover of Hippie Kitchen as her exclusive preserve, she did allow HH to appear within its pages. Also, why after a year, she finally said yes to HH’s overtures.

We had their engagement party on Valentines Day and even made a video. Sort of a first try, but it was a good time–and many ideas generated on how to make the upcoming wedding more of a blow out. So stay tuned. Wedding’s scheduled for apple blossom time.

In the mean time, here are some photos from the engagement party in case you didn’t watch the vid.

The happy couple.

Celeste sporting HH’s engagement gift of a diamond heart necklace. You can see that Celeste is not a spring chicken–and even has a bad eye. Also that she makes no bones about her commodious belly. We think that’s partly what attracted HH–Celeste’s quiet dignity in the face of what life has brought.

Lastly, the “cross my heart and hope to love” polenta waffles we made for the engagement party. A play-play adaptation of Bob’s Polenta Waffles and Cashew Cilantro Pesto from Cooking Beyond Measure, pages 42 and 75. There are also vids of me making these posted here on the blog.

And last, you get out the roasted red peppers and olives for Cross My Heart and Hope to Love Polenta Waffles.

Part 1, Cashew-Cilantro Pesto

Part 2, Bob’s Polenta Waffles

Part 3, Building Cross My Heart and Hope to Love Polenta Waffles

This slaw is out of Beyond Measure (page 139). I patterned it after a green papaya salad I learned to make when I was in Bangkok. It’s easy, affordable, healthy, and delicious–so much so that I’m featuring it in cooking classes this spring along with a hot and spicy shrimp soup, Thai-style.

Green papayas, of course, are plentiful in Thailand. But here, you have to go to an Asian market to get this exotic fruit. So what I’ve done is acted like a Thai would and substitute the ubiquitous, cheap cabbage for the papaya.

A couple caveats: when you use dates for the sweet instead of sugar, eaters have to get a nibble of date with each bite to make it work. My rule of thumb: when serving people who like to steer clear of sugar, use the dates–otherwise the sugar melts in with the lime juice more evenly.

Another couple tips from talking with Eldie recently. Do use a box grater to shred things. It makes the fine translucent bits that make this slaw a happening thing. Also, use plenty of lime juice–as in fresh. Like 4-6 for a head of cabbage wouldn’t be too much at all.I did this slaw with young girls 8-12. Without measurements, they started out very timid and slowly with just a tiny bit of this and that.

Then we’d taste and everyone would look at each other and say, “I don’t get anything yet, do you?” Then they’d go back at yet. We’d taste again. Etc. Etc. It didn’t take long, though, before the girls were proudly offering their well dressed, zingy slaw to people in the audience.

When it’s too hot to even think about boiling the pasta water, try a variation on homemade hummus with a little blue cheese crumbled over the top and a drizz of good oil. Here I smashed up some limas and favas I’d cooked earlier. Seasoned nicely with what have you–in my case, fish sauce, red chile flakes, and coriander–this hummus is a perfect counterpart to the gorgeous lettuce that’s available now–with leaves perfect for dipping and wrapping around the beany paste. A little bread on the side. Some berries for dessert. You’ve got dinner.

You’ve also got food worthy of Hippie Kitchen where Stoned Salad Rolls appear on page 72 along with this rap:

Stoned. Stoner. The Stones. There was plenty of it going around in the Sixties—as far as I recall anyhow. Still, give a bunch of hippies four decades to get their act together, and they’re ready to join the renaissance. Yes! We may have gone to extremes and lost our bearings for a bit, but our original ideas were on target.

So bring on the Stoned Salad Rolls. Bring on food free from the taint of factory farming and corporate processing. Fine with me to do the work of cooking the beans and smashing them up in my hippie kitchen. Ditto on washing the lettuce. It’s honest labor. It’s heavy, man. It’s a stoner.

I’m doing the photos for Cooking Beyond Measure, of course, and while I was getting my camera gear ready for this shot, my cat Iris, was quick on the draw. I won’t print this one in the cookbook, but you can say you saw it here first.

The dish is an ending for dinner. Just Brie and toasted coconut. Your call on whether you want to tote some ripe fruit out to go with or not. If you do, you’ll definitely have an innocent sweet for dessert.