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

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.

After the Sixties in Flagstaff where better to go and chill out than Indian County. Call me lucky. I managed to cobble together an education degree and spent the next decade out on Navajo and Hopi posing as a school teacher. It’s true, I arrived looking for smoke and feathers–the romance of Indian spirituality. But what I found was the women and their kitchens–and a corn cuisine to write home about. Scarcity really can bring out the best in our creativity and ingenuity.

Bob and his wife, Beth, still live down on the big pink Colorado Plateau along with my ex and the old crowd. Last year he sent up a lid of blue corn meal along with some seed. So here you be: a recipe for blue corn waffles. And because when I lived up on Second Mesa we used to have a skillet of fried red chile in the center of the table to dip and dab in, that recipe’s below. Both measure free, of course. No room–or need–for Big Cooking here. After all, precise measurements and prescriptive step-by-step directions is hardly the Hopi Way–or mine.

I also included the bits below as side bars in Hippie Kitchen. Basically tips on waffles, working with cornmeal, and Hopi memories.

On Avoiding
Sticky Wicket Waffles—

I’ve dug my share of failed waffles out of the little square indentations. That was back when I didn’t oil the iron nicely with a pastry brush, and more critically, when I used too much liquid in the batter. It’s true that sometimes I can get by with a thin batter that results in the cracker-like, crispy waffles, but the safest bet until you get your sea legs is to go with a thicker than thinner batter, something akin to thinned mashed potatoes. At one point in my waffle making, I thought milk products made things stick, but I never got very scientific about it and can’t really say it wasn’t because those batters were simply too thin.

The main thing is that making waffles isn’t as much of trip as I used to think. Plus, they’re better than pancakes because there’s no possibility of doughy middles. Sort of like the difference between baking a cake in a regular pan and a Bundt pan—the indentation in the center helps the cake cook through.

Finally, on the horror of lifting the lid and finding your lovely waffle pulled apart and clinging to the top and the bottom. Never fear. All it takes—given that your batter was thick enough—is closing the iron and letting the heat finish doing its thing. In another minute or two, the miraculous will have happened. The waffle will be waiting under the lid in one dazzlingly fabulous piece.

On a Roll with
Blue & Yellow Corn—

It goes without saying that you can substitute yellow for blue cornmeal and still rock. You can also easily turn waffle batter into pancakes or cornbread. The gist here is to make pancake batters thinner that waffle batters so they pour onto a griddle easily and aren’t too thick to cook through. On the cornbread route, follow the lead of your waffle batter, augmenting it with whole wheat pastry flour, a little honey, and another egg or two. That way you’ll get a moist cornbread plus leftovers to toast into croutons and toss into to Bourbon Chard Ribbons (page 134).

Most recipes that use cornmeal—whether for waffles, pancakes, or bread—call for at least part wheat flour and sometimes I go that route. Mainly, though, I like to explore what happens with 100 percent cornmeal and have found I can control how well what I’m making holds together with the amount of oil and eggs I use.

On Leavening—

I remember a novel set in the early 1800s in which the older women criticized the young marrieds for using the new quick leavenings. It was just one line, but it’s stayed with me. The idea of how little the old guard thought of the young moderns and their penchant for being in such a hurry they couldn’t wait for yeast to work. There’s not a reason other than time that you couldn’t use yeast to make Blue Corn Waffles, using a ratio of a teaspoon of yeast softened in warm water for every cup of dry ingredients. But what can we say; we get more biz-biz all the time it seems and want things on the double.

Sodas can leave an off taste in quick breads if you goof and use too much, which is one reason so many recipes call for baking powder. But as my all time favorite cookbook, Laurel’s Kitchen, points out, you can make your own aluminum-free baking power using one part soda to two parts cream of tartar. Frankly, whenever I have some of this made up I use it instead of straight soda. But I can be a very lazy hippie cook. Besides, isn’t it the Irish that use nothing but soda in their famous bread?

On Blue Corn—

I still remember the time after I’d moved from Hopiland home to Flagstaff. It was back in our rafting days and someone wanted to take some blue corn meal along on a trip down the Colorado through the Grand Canyon. So I called Alfreda out on Second Mesa.

“How can we get some blue corn for the river trip?” I asked.

Her answer? “Grow it.”

Tough love from a Hopi woman for sure.

I arched my middle class brow and thought, “Forget it.”

The times, though, they really did change. This season I’ll be sowing the blue corn kernels Bob sent along with slew of other things. Perhaps not the big time thrills of a romp through the Grand but an experience sure to bring its own enduring joy.

To flash cook vegetables, start with a puddle of water, spices if you’re in the mood, and high heat. The idea is to use just enough water to cook your vegetables, adding small pours as you go—making sure to get things that take the longest to cook in the pot first.

Note on Cast Iron

My favorite vehicle by far for flash cooking is a cast iron wok because it holds the heat so beautifully and turns the vegetables crisp tender in minutes. But as I’ve discovered cooking in other people’s kitchens, regular woks, heavy bottomed skillets, and generally any pot or pan rattling around in the cupboard will be your friend.

For those who really think crepes are beyond them, read on or better yet cruise over to the Hillsdale Farmers Market this Sunday at noon. I’ll be in action, and you can have a taste. If you can’t make the market and want a rolled ups class, I’m doing one in June at Whole Foods Market in The Pearl as part of their “You Don’t Have to be Gourmet to Eat Well” series. (Date TBA on the Where’s Jean page.)

In the meantime here you go, straight from Beyond Measure:

On Learning Curves

If rolled-ups sound daunting to you, all you have to remember is to make them the next time grandpa’s around. Then just whisper to him that no matter how they turn out, he’s supposed to ooh and ahhh. That’s what they do in Hopiland. Cooks learning to make piki bread, something much more difficult than rolled-ups, always present their first efforts to grandpa. That’s the patriarch’s cue to tell the fledgling cook how delicious her creation is and eat the offering with great delight, even if it’s thick and the ladies are teasing her about how it looks a map.

On the Griddle

There’s nothing like a cast iron griddle. Not only does it carry heat that cooks evenly and browns beautifully, all there is to cleaning is a quick wipe with a cloth. Between my griddle and cast iron wok, each of which have staked out rather permanent claims on the stove top, there is little washing of pots and pans going on in my kitchen.

Thanksgiving Breakfast complete with Cottage Cream and KBJ’s Cranberries is such gorgeous food–as delicious as it is healthy and affordable.

Indeed, that’s what measure free cooking is all about. But a cookbook without measurements and prescriptive rote directions is so unprecedented that people tend can get wrapped up in the novelty, forgetting the point.

That Thanksgiving Breakfast is delicious, is clear from the photo. So let’s talk health and wealth. The yam that I shined with oil, baked and sliced into rounds didn’t lose any nutrients by being boiled and packed into cans. It also costs pennies–since there’s no extra 10 to 50 percent added to cover processing and packaging.

Ditto for KBJ’s Cranberries, an uncooked compote of fresh crans, sweet oranges, and pomegranate seeds. Not only do we get all the nutrition that fresh seasonal produce offers, the lovely flavors tantalize so much that we didn’t even consider inviting sugar to the party. Oranges are affordable right now, and we’ve already saved by not buying canned yams or cranberry sauce, so we can splurge a little on the small amount of cranberries needed and a pomegranate that will have all who enjoy it feeling very festive indeed.

Cottage Cream, as well, which is just a carton of cottage whizzed up in the blender, is high-protein, yummy, and easy on the food bill. No need to pay a premium for those spendy little cottage cheese and fruit thingies that have appeared in the stores the last few years. It’s easy, gratifying, and fast to make your own.

So, rock and roll during the holidays. There’s no need to break the bank–or eat food that’s not good for us. Just cling to the perimeter of the store, spend extra time fingering the seasonal produce, and then get ready to be enticed in the privacy of your own kitchen.

The beauty and feel of fresh food: the leathery pomegranates, the solid tubers. The sounds and smells of things when they’re freshly chopped–cranberries that pop, zesty fragrant oranges. The empowerment that comes leaving off following rote instructions and taking command. The secret joy & knowledge that you are practicing thrift even as you are offering high quality food to those gathered together.

My friend Laura generally checks a cookbook out from the library first to see if she wants to purchase it. That makes sense, as does Amazon’s habit of putting sample chapters up for viewers.

In the spirit of all that and because Cooking Beyond Measure is just weeks away from hitting the shelves, I inserted a couple sample recipes in last week’s post. And since more is better, here’s another recipe from the book this week plus a video on doing your own sprouts.

It celebrates the raspberries that we Portlanders are glorying in at the moment. It also nudges those who want to ratchet up their nutrition in the direction of sprouts. Home grown sprouts. What could be more American on this 4th of July weekend?

On Sprouting Grain, Seeds, and Beans—

For breakfasts (cereals, pancakes, and sweet breads), wheat sprouts in earlier than later stages are best because as they don’t have the green chlorophyll sprouts acquire as they grow. Whatever the meal, though, sprouted wheat is amazingly welcome stuff—so much so that once people discover the sprouting jar, it gets quite a workout as the oh so sweet and helpful Dulce Del Rio shows.

Mung beans, alfalfa seeds, and wheat berries (kernels of wheat) sprout nicely in a wide mouth quart jar with a circle of screen cut to fit the top and a canning band to hold the screen in place.Be conservative with your grain, seeds, or beans as they gain considerable volume when they first swell and then send out shoots that mark the beginnings of new life. A nice jar lid full or mound in the palm of your hand is good.

Soak whatever you’re sprouting in water overnight. In the morning, drain the liquid and rinse. Keep the jar on its side so the sprouts have room to grow. Continue rinsing daily so they stay fresh. If you’re using sprouts in salads or soups, set the jar by a window the last day so light can help develop the chlorophyll.

It’s true that sprouting can seem like quite the project if you’ve not tried it. But remember the story about the two armies that were down to nothing but legumes…The bad guys boiled their beans. The good guys sprouted theirs before they cooked them and with the vibrance they got from this superior nutrition, kept those white hats in place.

The vines grandpa planted out back sixty years ago are in full flourish this year. The first of the berries ripening now. It’s as it should be since I want to give some to Paul. He’s been bringing the mail to our street for close to twenty years–and it’s his last week.

If Paul didn’t know my grandparents, he certainly knew my aunt on her watch. And we knew him. Indeed, we could always tell when Paul was off. It was those days the mail came crumpled or to the wrong address, via a letter carrier who didn’t seem to know how to stop a minute and say hello.

Ah, yes. You’ve been so very righteous, Paul. We’ll miss you.
Adios, amigo. Happy trails to you and your wife…

As far as the berries go, there’s really nothing like raspberries and good old fashion cream. But given that Cooking Beyond Measure is just weeks away from our hands, I mixed and matched with a couple recipes from the cookbook.

Bob’s Golden Polenta Waffles are the easiest things in the world–and so cute when you inherited a heart-shaped waffle iron from your Scandinavian auntie.

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

The creamy white stuff you see in the photo above is Cottage Cream. Here’s a sneak preview from Cooking Beyond Measure on that as well:

This meal isn’t new with me. Most every inventive cook these days makes a version of this great dish. Every mouthful is so delicious. More it’s a one-skillet flash cooked pull together.Still, as you can see it’s so beautiful that I chose it for the cover shot on Beyond Measure. It tastes every bit as good as it looks.

Snap the tough ends off your asparagus and flash cook the spears on high in a little water. Once they’re done, plate them and do your eggs on medium in a little butter, salt, and fresh cracked pepper. (I used a lid to help the egg cook without having to turn it. That way the yolk remained a little runny even as the white cooked through.)

From there is just some shaved Parmesan and a knife and fork. Truly the bestest, bestest way I’ve ever had asparagus. So divinely superb and sunny and seasonal.

As usual, the secret to ultrafast flash cooking is having leftovers–in this case a pot of quinoa waiting in the fridge.

(a 2011 update: I also did these with kids at the library this past summer–we used white bean hummus instead of cheese and added some sugar–the kids made their own and there they were: eating beans and rice and loving it)