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.

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.

Also a variation on the theme in a video at the bottom of this post. “Tostadas: So Easy an Old Stoner Can Make Them”

Here’s a take on a taco salad that goes light years beyond iceberg and draws on the bounty of an early season garden. If you’re like me and want lotsa veggies, just pile the mount way high and grab your chopsticks or fork. Then once you graze off the main heap, you’ll have a nice warm bundle of food to pick up and eat.

On A Fresh Herbaceous Kind of Spring—

The thing with spring is that oftentimes there’s not much to eat in the garden. Lettuces are young yet and peas just beginning to grow. But no problem, the grand seasonal cycle seems to tell us, there’s plenty of herbs.

So, what better time of year to graze on fresh herbs. To turn them into your vegetables. Their pungent mystique powerful enough to gaily chase winter mugglies away.

So especially in spring, consider using herbs as vegetables. Perhaps not exclusively, but still in significant green proportions. They skinny up to lovely advantage things like cabbage in a Tostada Salad or Levantine-style with whole grains in what we call Red Quinoa Tabbouleh.

Why the combination of parsley, summer savory, thyme, mint, tarragon, and chives? That’s what was looking good in the garden when these two recipes came together. A lovely combo I thought, although one sure to change with the seasons.

So grab you basket and go gathering—keeping an eye out for the occasional flower. Once back in the kitchen, snip the chives into bits with your scissors. Strip the summer savory and thyme off the stems in one fell swoop of your pinched fingers. Give your parsley and mint as much chop as you have the patience for.

You’ll wind up with a fabulous heap of herbaceous green. A beautiful spring green that will hold its color as long as it doesn’t spend too long under the spell of much heat.

The fabulous aroma of thyme, mint, and parsley makes this approach to working with fresh herbs so worth it. They remain innocent until the leaves begin to bruise when you strip the thyme off their woody stems and chop the parsley and mint with your knife. A rather lovely treat for the cook. No need to go out and buy aroma therapy when you’ve got this kind of action going in your very own kitchen.

On Vinegared Milk, Buttermilk, Yogurt, and Beer—

You can buy buttermilk which is already sour and certainly genteel. But vinegar’s always on hand in my kitchen and making my own soured milk is cheaper. All it takes is a spoonful of vinegar to clabber a cup of milk—or if the truth be known I add the vinegar to the egg, milk, and oil, letting it do its thing right in the bowl.

There’s also yogurt which in addition to sour power has all those healthful organisms. Since it’s thicker than milk, add a little water if you go this route. Or you can skip milk products altogether and use beer like the Wild West’s grizzled prospectors did, either flat from the night before or splurging with a fresh bottle.

On a Roll with Corncakes—

I often add spaghetti squash and minced cilantro to corncakes, skipping the cheese altogether as pictured on p. 53.

Another twist is departing from the cornmeal and using leftover quinoa. An egg beaten into a half cup of salted quinoa and a little vinegar and soda yields a great batter for spooning onto the griddle.

Here a Chick, There a Chick—

Hens who get to peck around like on Old MacDonald’s Farm might be a minority at this point in history, but as Bob Dylan sang in his rusty 1960s voice, “the times, they are a-changin.” In response to pressure from the Humane Society of the United States, Ben and Jerry’s has pledged to stop using eggs from hens who live out miserable lives in batteries of cages stacked ten high in cavernous barns.

Such ideas are not new for Ben and Jerry’s. The company’s United Kingdom plant that produces ice cream for Europe has used cagefree eggs for years now. That’s because British consumers have a record dating back to 1876 of insisting farm animals be treated humanely even if they all aren’t out on Old MacDonald’s any more.

“This new ethic is conservative, not radical,” maintains Professor Bernard Rollan, who is widely recognized for pioneering the field of animal ethics and policy during the 1970s. “It is a return to the roughly fair contract those who have husbanded animals for virtually all of human history have had with animals. That of taking great pains to put one’s animals into the best possible environment one could find to meet their physical and psychological natures.”

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.

In Soupy’s company, I found fascination too. Fascination for the feel of the warm bowl in my hands. Fascination for the smell of the broth wafting upwards on slender tendrils of steam. And deep appreciation for the wintry favors that melded together in this pale shade of spring offering.

Finally, for those of you who’ve not seen Soupy immortalized in Beyond Measure, here she is.

And really, finally–here’s a version of Soupy Soup I made, April 2010. It’s not soup at all since I didn’t use that much water. Principle’s the same though–and the parsley sings like it always does.

I’ve been out and about at natural food markets doing book signings–and offering samples from Beyond Measure. The last few days I’ve been on a roll with my stuffed dates recipe. You can’t get a more innocent and easier holiday treat than stuffed dates.

As usual, it’s what you put on your foundation that makes or breaks a meal. Buried under all the Gorgonzola and toasted walnuts are nothing more than beets, garbs, and beet greens plus Swiss chard. Here’s how it all worked.

My first catering job appeared last week, so I turned to the Red and Yellow Beets with Blue Cheese in Cooking Beyond Measure (page 116). An inspired recipe idea but not one that worked for me at the moment. No yellow beets. No time for roasting. Still, the idea compelled, so I got on a roll went with the flow. Beet and Blues appeared nestled down in a big casserole for toting to the do-wah.

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.

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.