From Polenta to Peach Cobbler

19 September 2010 by Jean Johnson

The polenta I talked about in the preceding post had some long legs. In addition to the green bean toss, it became the topping for a cobbler. Here’s how it all came down.

First I roasted some plums and peaches. Balsamic on the plums, red wine over the peaches and sugar sprinkled over all. Why the same pan? I was lazy.

Then I ate the plums. Scarfed them right up. So the project became the peaches. These got sliced and stirred around in their winey goop. Then I used the leftover polenta like flour and oats for a cobbler crust. All it took was some butter and sugar worked in for a nice spready hit that covered the peaches. Into the oven and then under the broiler at the very end to brown it up a bit more.

Voila! A lovely offering that comes from being thrifty, working in season, and not being afraid to be your own boss in the kitchen.

Share

Reflections on a Refrigerator

by Jean Johnson

An inside peek at my mind would never do–chuckle–but the interior of my fridge and freezer is something that never fails to give people wandering through my hippie kitchen pause.

“It’s empty!” they remark. “And you’re a cook?” they say. “What’s up?”

What’s up is that I like food that’s freshly made from scratch and also that I work with leftovers right away, usually in the next meal. Also that I see the big boxes in our kitchens for what they are. Seductive. Power-grabbing. And not always as necessary as they’ve convinced us they are.

Oftentimes thinking back pre-something or other can help us get a purchase on our current experience. In this case, think pre-refrigeration. Back to the days of the ice box. To when the carts came by the houses with blocks of ice in sawdust for the lovely old ice boxes.

Point being, there wasn’t much room in these babies. So the women thought about what they used the precious space for.

Now transport yourself to the 1980s on the Hopi Mesas where I was living next door to Joyce Tawayesva. Way up top on the rocky bluffs where they’d just got electricity the year before. Ma, as everyone called Joyce, had a fridge, but she still operated the old way. We ate leftovers the next day before they spoiled. We kept the food moving. No plastic containers of it piling up in the corners of a fridge to get old and unpalatable. No store bought stuff since the stores were far away.

It’s true that the stew Ma and I often ate for breakfast was pretty humble fare–so humble that when they had a chance, the kids and grandpa went for milky cold cereal. But Ma and I made it fun. We roasted some fresh chile to go with, and there was always freshly baked yeast rolls to dip in the broth. Plus that, the flavor of the stew would improve overnight. At least I think it did. It was either that or simply a function of eating out of the limelight of dinner. Just her and me there in the slow morning, not saying too much except for a gentle chuckle now and then. Probably it was both. But no need to put too fine a point on it.

That’s because the real issue is how we think about food and work with it. In my hippie kitchen these days, there’s no old fashioned ice box–even though I could dig one. And there’s no Hopi stew. But I do celebrate food. I don’t waste it. I like it fresh and gorgeous. So when there are leftovers–and here’s the key–they become part of the next inspiration.

Case in point: polenta. I made a pot up for some waffles yesterday.

Oftentimes I just stick the pot of porridge in the fridge for more waffles the next day. This time, though, I poured it into a pan to harden. Then I flashed cooked a bunch of french cut green beans and tossed them with some cubed polenta and pecorino for a brunch salad of sorts.

And the beat goes on. Leftover veggies? Into a frittata they go–or a soup or tabbouleh-style cozied up to some steamed grain for a salad. Or if you’re into pasta, rocking & rolling that way.

So you get the idea and it’s not particularly a new one–that of using leftovers. The take home point of this post, though, is the immediacy of it. While they’re only a meal from coming into your reality, leftover food still has appeal. That’s because it’s still fresh. So all it takes is for the cook to creative and give it a little spin–toss in some raisins, play around with the fresh lemon juice. grab the nutbutter. Whatever.

I think if you go slowly and explore this way of thinking about food, you’ll find that you don’t think in terms of “oh I’m having the same thing again.” And it’s not because the “thing,” the food from the previous meal, is disguised in any way. Rather it’s because it has a fresh spin. Some minced parsley. Some cream. Hues in a thousand shades that as artists know are what give a piece the nuanced sophistication people love.

So go ahead. Be a sophisticated lady–or gent. Dazzle yourself–and pocket money you’ll save on your food bill. You can use that to buy an ice box once you decide–as I ponder from time to time–to toss that hulking refrigerator out the door.

Share

Turned On Eggplant Pizza

10 September 2010 by Jean Johnson

Not too much longer to revel in the world of harvest, so I hope you can score on some eggplants for this great spin on pizza pie. It’s a great way to use the last of the coals after you’ve grilled, and the next day it’s a breeze for the cook–who as those of you who’ve read my books know–counts too!

Turned On Eggplant Pizza

The leftover eggplant you use for this pizza has way more flavor than when it’s hot off the grill the night before.

Recipe Note

Slice eggplants in half and oil the cut surface lightly. Grill over the low heat that’s left once dinner’s done and the coals are dying down. The next day, top these luscious leftovers with a chop of lettuce and basil dressed with olive oil and red wine vinegar. Feta and paprika over the top makes things yummy and pretty, and salt and fresh black pepper finish this pizza ever so nicely. Serve with a fork or go outside and enjoy like street food.

Details

~One slice through center and a light brush of oil is all it takes to ready medium sized
eggplants for the grill. Eggplant flesh is a magnet for oil, so a light swipe with your hand or a pastry brush is a good approach. Over low heat with the barbeque lid on, eggplants soften and mellow into delectable fare.

~When you’re building your pizzas, work the oil over the chopped basil and lettuce before putting it on the eggplants. The oil helps keep the basil from discoloring. Also once you get greens coated, the vinegar beads up beautifully offering tiny tart hits of flavor.

From Hippie Kitchen, p 95

Share

Tomato-Mozzarella-Basil Salad

28 August 2010 by Jean Johnson

In Cooking Beyond Measure I purposely call the Italian salad, caprese, this: Sweet Basil with Tomato and Mozzarella. That’s because I wanted to turn it from something exotic and perhaps strange to a salad everyone can enjoy. And right now with the tomato harvest starting to come in most places, there’s nothing better than this great “do.”


Sweet Basil with Tomatoes and Mozzarella

Mid-July in Portland, Oregon, and my lettuce had bolted. But there it was, a single ripe tomato alongside sweet basil that was flourishing. Call the salad Caprese like the Italians who dreamed this up. Call it Sweet Basil with Tomatoes and Mozzarella. Either way, it’s first rate.

Recipe Note

Chop enough basil leaves to make a commodious layer of greens for a sliced fresh tomato and slices from a fat round of fresh mozzarella. Finish with a minced clove of spring garlic, coarse salt, good olive oil, lots of red wine vinegar, and black pepper.

On Sweet Basil—

Rendering sweet basil ready for the table is an art that ranges far and wide. You can leave the leaves whole since they really are bite sized. Or there’s chiffonading the leaves. Then there’s rustic quick chopping. There’s pounding them in a mortar with enough oil to break them down. So take your choice depending on your time and inclination. There’s only one way you can go wrong with fresh basil and that’s not to use it.

On the Tomato Season and Caprese—

Because I eat seasonally and wait all year long for fresh tomatoes, I do not tire of this fabulous classic salad during the peak of harvest. But should you want a variation on the theme of tomatoes, basil, and mozzarella, there’s an idea on p. 165 under On a Roll, Round One.

Source: Cooking Beyond Measure: How to Eat Well without Formal Recipes, p 138

In the photograph above I used conventional mozzarella, unaware two years ago when I shot it, of the abuse factory farm cows are subjected to–ie not seeing the light of day for obscene time periods, basically turned into milk machines that stand with their 1500 pound girths on cemented barn floors as opposed to getting out to pasture daily where they can switch their tails and chew their cud.

Thus, exceptionally pleased am I to have discovered that the reputable people in the Organic Valley cooperative make a mozzarrella. It’s square not round, sorry to say. But it’s taste is all the sweeter since it helps connect the dots between our bioethics and our consumption habits. So if you haven’t connected with a local cheese maker who does mozzarella–or don’t make your own–know that Organic Valley has its products available nationally. The good stuff is ours for the asking–and for paying the extra price it costs dairy people to treat the mama cows well.

Share

Plums and Pots and Purple Juice

10 August 2010 by Jean Johnson

There’s something elemental about a kettle of plums simmering on the stove. The pink foam percolates up around the burnished round fruits. Purple skins burst on ruby red flesh. Leaning in over the pot for a deep breath of harvest: sweet, sticky, dense, royal.

The neighbor around the corner can’t keep up with her plums so I went over and nabbed a couple baskets. Now they’re out there. In the kitchen cooking down in a big pot of mindfulness. Not sure just what will come of them yet. But it’s all fun. Actually, it’s all work. But it’s work I seem drawn to when harvest begins rolling around yet again. The gathering in of it all. The not letting food go to waste. The preserving for winter. It’s true. I’m smitten.

Share

Grow Your Own Beauty with Table Grapes

29 July 2010 by Jean Johnson

You know, for me the measure free hippie kitchen and garden thing is mostly about beauty.  I love the poetry of it all, as I all but testify to in Beyond Measure and Hippie Kitchen–chuckle. The artistry of layering fat slices of tomatoes and fresh mozzarella together for a caprese. The glory of seeing grape vines turn my world green and cool and collected.

Here’s my driveway in the spring before the arbor I’ve been nursing along kicks in.

Then in early summer.

Finally in full on summer.

And then in all its glory before the end of the season comes.

And then, as Jackson Browne sang, When the spring ‘light comes streaming in, I’ll get up and do it again’ next year…

Share

Hippie Primavera, Video on Flash Cooking

16 June 2010 by Jean Johnson

Flash cooking continues to attract people to my work. I’m glad because it’s the heart of what my measure free, seasonal, sustainable message is about.

So here you go.

In these vids I show how to

  1. Turn the burner on high with a puddle of water.
  2. Put your rustically chopped veggies in, in the order of which takes longest to cook Build your flavor using the sacred quartet: oil, vinegar, salt, pepper
  3. Pair with protein and carbs
  4. And bring on the goodies to make Plain Jane fare rock your socks!

It’s as simple as that, and the clean-up is too. Plus I talk about eating seasonally, thrift, health, and how delicious this food revolution really truly is. Hope you come along. We’re having a blast…

Share

Beans and Rice are Nice & Tidy–In a Loaf

9 June 2010 by Jean Johnson

Not much to say here other than enjoy this vid on mixing up a bean loaf. There’s even an afterthought on one of my favorites, spaghetti squash.

Share

On Cleanup and Storage

7 June 2010 by Jean Johnson

If you have a copy of Hippie Kitchen you’ll know that I one of the ways I like to eat fava beans is with Tripped Out Peanut Sauce (page 56).

But generating measure free recipe ideas to inspire creative cooking is only part of what my work is about. That’s because, as our mothers and fathers always told us, we’re not done until we’ve cleaned up.

Indeed, it seems that the prospect of cleanup is often what stops us from cooking. We don’t like the mess, or the idea of storing things away in all their little cartons. Here’s what I have to say about that. It’s straight from page 58 in Hippie Kitchen (where if you do have a copy, you might find the sections just below on getting sauced and herbed rather fun).

So make it easy on yourself. After all, the cook counts too.

Share

Fava Bean Season is Upon Us

30 May 2010 by Jean Johnson

If you have Hippie Kitchen you’ll see this picture on page 52. I choose to show off the fava beans in their pods rather than the actual dish because they have been so maligned. Typical instructions in American cookbooks are to do not pass go and double peel the beans–first shucking them from their long pods and then resting each individual bean from its own casing.

As you can see, when fava beans are fresh picked young and tender, they are beautifully ready to go straight from the pods. No second peeling needed at all. I discovered this simply by working with fava beans from my own garden, and then was gratified to see Italian and Spanish cooks echoing my experience in their books.

With the double peel debate settled, then what to do with fava beans? First is to think of them like a fresh bean. Once you do that you can rock and roll just like I do in Hippie Kitchen. The official recipe is called Fava Bean Sass, a dish made by flash cooking the favas then tossing them with spicy peanut sauce that includes diced apple and shredded carrot to sweeten things. So simple. So delicious. So thrifty–especially if you planted favas in February and are now about ready to harvest them.

The main thing that makes a measure free hippie kitchen work, though, is getting on a roll with things. So once I’ve got a new vegetable or recipe idea in tow, I play-play. If you try this I think you’ll find that eating with the seasons–as in fava beans for days on end while they are the happening thing–does not get boring.

The second round with favas I suggest on page 54 of Hippie Kitchen is incorporating them into a grain salad with leftover millet, radishes, and raisins. A little dressing and you have a balanced spring primavera in one bowl.

Fun, you say, but there’s more favas coming through the door daily. No problem, flash cook them as always with spring onions and green garlic. Spoon the works into warm corn tortillas and top with blue cheese. Then name this Fava Bean Heaven.

———-I hope I’ve piqued your interest in these early summer beans. They are great since along with the peas they are among the first food to grace our gardens and appear in the markets. And if you aren’t growing them just yet and do have to buy favas that need double peeling, don’t give up. Once they are flash cooked, they pop right out of their casings whether the cook does it all ahead or people do it themselves–together at the table while they slow down to relish the harvest whether it’s in a hash, warm salad, or pizza pie.

Share