Not so this recipe. Lynne Rossetto Kasper’s “Salad of Beef with Lime, Chile and Mint Inspired by Laos” (whew) raised my eyebrows enough that I made it last summer for Avery, and tonight for Ben. This is a riff on Lynne’s riff on larb, the Laotian crisp, spicy, protein-heavy salad that breaks summer heat into tart bursts of flavor. I’ve been using tofu, with a curiosity about shrimp for the next go.

Whereas Lynne broke out the grill for this, I seared the tofu; she used rice noodles, and I picked up a fun squishy pack of kelp noodles at the store that work beautifully. Instead of tossing it all together, I laid those big gorgeous pieces of soy curd right on top. After I snapped the photo, I realized I had an avocado, too. That took this from delectable to downright scarfable.

Larb, Kind Of
adapted from Lynne Rossetto Kasper
serves 2-3 as a main course

1 large garlic clove, minced
2 teaspons grated fresh ginger
2 packed teaspoons brown sugar, or to taste
1/4 teaspoon each salt and ground black pepper
zest and juice of 1 large lime
1 tablespoon fish sauce
2 tablespoons water

1 12-oz package kelp noodles, or 12 oz dry rice noodles, soaked in warm water to soften
4 whole scallions, thinly sliced
1/3 cup fresh cilantro leaves, roughly torn
1/3 cup fresh mint leaves
1 jalapeno, thinly sliced
2 small cucumbers, peeled, seeded, and thinly sliced
1 cup thinly sliced green cabbage

1 16-oz package extra firm tofu, pressed for at least 30 minutes
1 cup cornstarch
1/4 cup neutral oil, like sunflower, canola, or peanut (coconut oil would be good, too)

Mix dressing ingredients in a small bowl and set aside.

Mix salad ingredients in a large bowl and set aside.

Stand the block of tofu on end and slice down the middle. Stack the two slabs and cut into thirds, making six pieces. Put cornstarch on a plate and coat the tofu in it.

In a large skillet, heat oil barely to the smoking point. (Really. It’s got to be hot.) Pull tofu out of your cornstarch dredge, tap off the excess cornstarch, and lay each piece carefully in the hot oil. Shake the pan occasionally to make sure nothing’s sticking, but otherwise leave it in there for 2-3 minutes to let it get a nice brown crust. Turn with a fork and brown the other side. Remove from oil.

Toss the salad with 2/3 of the dressing and spread on a platter. Arrange the tofu on top and finish it off with the rest of the dressing. I recommend an avocado, too.

“Oh!” I say. “Right. Isn’t it pretty?”

It’s wonderful what old baby food jars and your co-op’s bulk spice department can do.

When I started cooking with any intention, I rigorously measured my spices. I think that when you’re trying to get your feet under you in the kitchen, this is a good idea – follow the recipe to the letter the first time you make it, then open yourself up to variations. I remember the first time I made a curry without a recipe. It was lousy. The second time I made a curry without a recipe, it was better. The third time, I nailed it. Since then I pull out my teaspoon set only occasionally, just to check up on myself and my estimating eye.

Chili for me is a very loose recipe. There are a few important things: scallions, lots of garlic, beer, and cumin. After that, it can take a million directions. I’m going to point out what may be obvious and say that I didn’t actually measure the spices I put in here. If you want to, please do, but really, it’s a dash of this and a bit of that, plus a whole lot of cans from my pantry. Don’t have white beans? Use chickpeas. The only constant I’d keep from that list of legumes is the black beans. But I love black beans.

I’ve fancied it up by making polenta cakes. This is a fun way to impress people and takes only a little finesse. This chili will be delicious by itself in a bowl, but if you’ve got an extra minute, make it special with this fun touch. The cakes aren’t vegan, but the chili is – and it’s all gluten free.

1 cup coarse-ground cornmeal
4 cups water
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
3 oz grated sharp cheddar
1 tablespoon butter

3 tablespoons olive oil
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon ground coriander
1/8 teaspoon ground cayenne or to taste
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
1 1/2 teaspoons sea salt
1 small onion, diced (about 1 1/2 cups)
5-6 scallions, white and green parts, sliced
at least 3 cloves garlic, roughly chopped
1 chipotle, roughly chopped
1/2 teaspoon unsweetened cocoa powder
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1 cup beer
1 15-oz can diced tomatoes
1 15-oz can black beans
1 15-oz can kidney beans, drained
1 15-oz can white beans, drained
1 15-oz can corn kernels, drained
1 small can diced green chilies
1 12-oz package Mexican-spiced soy crumbles

Grits first. Put cornmeal, water, olive oil, salt and pepper in a medium saucepan over high heat. Bring water to a boil, then turn down to simmer, whisking often, until liquid is fully absorbed, about 15 minutes. (The thing with polenta is that it looks like it’s taken up all the water quite quickly, but keep cooking and stirring it for awhile longer and you’ll be rewarded with a much silkier texture.) Stir in cheese and butter; taste for seasoning. Spoon polenta out onto a plate and spread it about 1/2″ thick. Refrigerate while you start your chili.

In your favorite soup pot heat olive oil, cumin, coriander, cayenne, cinnamon, and pepper. When spices are fragrant, add salt, onion, scallion, garlic, chipotle, oregano, and cocoa powder. Cook on low heat, stirring occasionally, 5 minutes or until onions are softened and just barely starting to leave brown bits in the bottom of the pan. Turn up the heat and as soon as things start to sizzle but not burn, add beer and scrape up all those lovely brown bits. Cook until you no longer get a big whiff of alcohol when you stick your nose in the steam, then add remaining ingredients. Bring to a boil, then lower heat and simmer at least 30 minutes.

About ten minutes before you’re ready to serve, take the grits out of the fridge. Turn out onto a board and cut into desired shapes. The key here is to use a metal spatula, not plastic or silicone – you’ll need something a bit sharper to really dig under your grits cake, otherwise you’ll get reheated mush instead of nicely browned cakes. (I learned this the hard way.) Heat a good layer of olive oil – better too much oil than too little, in this case – in a skillet over medium-high heat until it’s almost smoking. Gently lay 2-3 cakes in the pan and fry 2-3 minutes, then decisively get your (metal!) spatula under and flip. 2-3 minutes more on the other side, then pull them out to rest on a roasting rack set over a plate. This is better than setting them on paper towels, because air will be circulating all the way around them.

Plate it up! Garnish with cilantro and some diced avocado. Queso fresco? Yum.

Yesterday I saw a statistic, very possibly made up, that the average cookbook user makes only 4-5 recipes out of each book. Honestly, my number is probably even lower than that. Cookbooks are bedtime reading and inspiration for me, and I have many cookbooks that have taught me much but that I’ve never cooked directly from.

One of these is Mark Bittman’s How To Cook Everything Vegetarian. (He also has great videos on the New York Times website.) It’s a fantastic resource, with plenty of tables that help explain how one dish can quickly become another. This, to me, is the best kind of general cookbook, because it provides hundreds of recipes but that number leaps to thousands by the guidance and improvisation provided by the author. I recommended it to Ethan recently before I realized that I’d never actually used it.

Well, enough of that nonsense. This morning I opened the book and this recipe immediately made itself known with all the subtlety of a neon sign. This stew is nothing short of a party in my mouth. Port pulls out amazing flavors in the ginger and prunes, the limas are lush and just barely toothsome, and the cayenne brings a brilliant finish. It shows heat but doesn’t interfere with any other flavors. Dried fruit in stew, man. Wow. I need to make more cookbook recipes.

I’m tagging this vegan, because it’s so easily made so. (I used butter but didn’t add the cream.)

Dried Fruit and Lima Stew
from How to Cook Everything Vegetarian by Mark Bittman
serves 4

8 ounces dried lima beans or 1 pound fresh or frozen
2 tablespoons butter or neutral oil, like grapeseed or corn
2 large onions, sliced
1 tablespoon peeled and minced fresh ginger
1 tablespoon minced garlic
1 cup marsala, not-too-dry red wine, or water
1 cup chopped tomato (canned are fine; don’t bother to drain)
12 dried plums (prunes)
12 dried apricots
salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 tablespoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon cayenne, or to taste (I used 1/4 teaspoon)
1/2 cup cream (optional)

If you’re using dried limas, cook them, a day or two in advance if you like. If they’re fresh or frozen, proceed to the next step.

Put the butter or oil in a casserole, Dutch oven, or similar pan over medium heat. When the butter is melted or the oil is hot, add the onions and cook, stirring occasionally, until very soft, at least 15 minutes. Add the ginger and garlic and cook 30 seconds. Add the port, raise the heat a bit, and cook for a minute, until some of the liquid bubbles away. Add the tomato, dried fruit, salt, pepper, sugar, cayenne, and drained limas.

Bring to a boil, lower the heat, cover, and simmer, stirring occasionally, until the fruit is tender, the tomato saucy, and all the flavors combined, about 15 minutes. Raise the heat and boil off any excess liquid (you want stew, not soup); taste and adjust the seasoning. (You can make the stew in advance to this point, then reheat and proceed.) Stir in the cream if you’re using it. Cook for another 30 seconds and serve.

What does this have to do with food? Well, I’m making this lasagna for a potluck today. And there will still be enough for me to have for dinner on Wednesday. Half an hour of cooking (and an hour in the oven) is going to set me up with wonderful leftovers for the next few days. This is by far my favorite nontraditional lasagna, easily adored with the matchup of sweet squash and hearty mushrooms, set off by the tang of ricotta salata. The next time you’re thinking about making a wintery baked dish that will last you for three days, I excitedly recommend this wonderful Moosewood recipe.

Pumpkin Mushroom Lasagna
very closely based on a recipe from the Moosewood Collective
makes a 9″x13″ pan

2 yellow onions, diced
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 lb sliced cremini or other mushrooms
1/4 cup chopped fresh sage leaves
1 tablespoon salt
1 cup sherry, vegetable stock, or a combination
2 eggs, lightly beaten
2 15-ounce cans pumpkin
3 cups ricotta
1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper
1/4 teaspoon grated nutmeg
3/4 pound uncooked lasagna noodles
1 1/2 cups crumbled ricotta salata
1/2 cup grated romano or parmesan

In a large pot, saute onions in oil for 5 minutes. Add mushrooms and saute another 5 minutes, until mushrooms are somewhat wilted. Add sage, salt, and sherry or stock and simmer on low heat for 5 minutes. Set aside.

In a large bowl stir together eggs, pumpkin, ricotta, pepper, and nutmeg. Set aside.

Preheat to 375F and lightly oil a 9″x13″ baking dish.

Dip out about 1/2 cup liquid from the sauteed mushrooms and pour into the prepared baking dish. Cover bottom with a layer of lasagna noodles arranged close together. Evenly spread on half of the pumpkin mixture. Spoon on about a third of the mushrooms and sprinkle with a third of the ricotta salata. Add a second layer of noodles followed by the remaining pumpkin mixture, another third of the sauteed mushrooms, and another third of the ricotta salata. Finish with a layer of noodles thoroughly moistened by the last third of the sauteed mushrooms. Evenly sprinkle on the last third of the ricotta salata and top with the grated romano.

Cover and bake 50 minutes. Uncover and bake for an additional 10 minutes, until lasagna is bubbly, noodles are tender, and the top is browned. Remove from oven and let stand 10 minutes before serving.

Did you know, for example, that people actually use their cars every day? And that styrofoam is still being manufactured? I had forgotten this. Fortunately, I slipped into a sweet-tea-induced haze of tranquility that kept me from being too snobby, and a drive through the mountains the day before I got back on the plane helped remind me of many fond memories I had growing up there. It was also wonderful to see so many family friends who blissfully call Asheville home.

I was homesick for Portland all week, though. I got back late last night, and when I woke up this morning, I walked down the street to my favorite breakfast spot, where I think I’m becoming a regular, and had my usual oatmeal, biscuit, and crossword puzzle. Then I strolled over to the co-op and got some veggies to make a pot pie. A red bell pepper and some maitake mushrooms were on the use-it-up-today shelf, so I threw those in the basket (never turn down a half-priced maitake, is my motto) with a bit of broccoli, an onion, some unfancy mushrooms, and a pack’o'seitan. A little fridge rummaging later, I had a wonderful dinner on its way.

Pot pie looks a little complicated to make, but that’s because this is an ideal way to use up little bits of leftovers. The veggies I used went really well together, but you don’t need to follow this recipe to the letter. What I do recommend heartily, though, is a splash of pear liqueur in the gravy. I had a bottle of some, made by Clear Creek Distillery, on the counter, and when I took a look at all the winter veggies I was pouring into this thing, tipping a few drops in was inevitable. White wine, sherry, or an apple brandy would be welcome, too. Or you could leave it without alcohol, and you’d do just fine. I’m going to categorize this as vegan, too, because it’s very easily made so – just use Earth Balance for the butter.

I started thinking about pot pie on the plane yesterday, as I was mentally waxing poetic about everything Portlandy I would be shortly returning to. I wanted some homey comfort food. Because this is home.

Seitan Pot Pie
serves 6-8

1 1/4 cups flour
1/2 teaspoon kosher or sea salt
8 tablespoons cold butter, cut in pieces
1/4 cup cold water

2 fist-sized potatoes, scrubbed or peeled, diced
1/2 medium-sized carrot, scrubbed or peeled, diced (about 1 cup)
1 cup peeled and diced winter squash

2 tablespoons butter
1 smallish white onion, diced (about 1 cup)
1 teaspoon kosher or sea salt
1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
leaves from 1 sprig rosemary
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 1/2 cups sliced mushrooms
2 tablespoons flour
2 cups warm vegetable broth
2 tablespoons pear liqueur (optional)

1 red bell pepper, seeded and diced
1 small head broccoli, roughly chopped
1 8-oz package seitan, drained and rinsed, diced

Make crust: in a bowl, combine flour and salt and cut in butter with a pastry cutter (or rub it in with your fingertips) until mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Add water and mix until dough just comes together. Form into a disc, wrap, and put in the fridge while you make the filling. (If you’ve prepped the filling ingredients ahead of time, put it in for at least an hour.)

Preheat to 375F.

Cook veg: bring a few cups of water or vegetable broth to a boil. Add potatoes, carrot, and squash and let simmer until a little soft but not quite cooked through. Drain and set aside.

Make gravy: While the potatoes are simmering, melt butter in a frying pan over medium heat. Add onion, salt, pepper, and rosemary and cook, stirring occasionally, until onions are softened and browned, 10 minutes. (If they’re going too fast, turn the heat down. You want a nice caramelization.) Add garlic and cook until fragrant, 1-2 minutes. Add mushrooms and cook another 3-4 minutes. Sprinkle in flour, stirring constantly, and cook 1-2 minutes. Add vegetable broth, stir, and let it come to a boil. Add pear liqueur, if using, and simmer 5 minutes. Taste for seasoning. It’s okay to add enough salt that it tastes on the salty side, because you’ll be adding more vegetables later that will take that salt.

Combine drained potato mixture, mushroom gravy, bell pepper, broccoli, and seitan in a 4-quart baking dish. Stir so that gravy coats everything. Remove pastry dough from fridge, roll out, and lay on top of filling, pinching the edges against the edge of the baking dish so gravy doesn’t spill over the sides. Cut a couple of slits in the top to let steam escape so that the whole thing doesn’t blow up in your oven. Put it in the oven so it will cook and be delicious. This will take about 45 minutes. Take it out and let it sit for about 10 minutes so it won’t be too runny when you first cut into it. Eat it so you’ll be happy.

Don’t get me wrong – I love the work.  I doubt I could ever get tired of chopping up vegetables.  I love being around other people who spend their waking hours thinking about food; I love to know that I’m in a place where I can learn about the ideals of taste.  I knew I’d be saying goodbye to a social life when I started doing this work, though, and boy have I ever.  I’ve been starting to make myself go out, though – there’s so much great stuff going on in this town, and I’m realizing, if only by the fantastic percentage of cookbooks taking up my shelves, that I risk losing balance.  Today when I went to Powell’s I bought four books that have nothing to do with food.  I didn’t even go near the cookbook room.  (But then, of course, I went to Whole Foods, and I came home and put a crazy brown sugar glaze on some cranberry-orange cornbread.  More on that next week.)

So this is the kind of food that comes from me when I don’t necessarily want to think about cooking in the sense that I’ll be chopping vegetables all day – but that doesn’t mean it’s not delicious, because it is.  This the result of some leftovers from a farmers’ market trip a couple of weeks ago, and a smile at the bunch of sage I just took down from drying.

It’s also a real effort made to use fake meat.  I have many hesitations when it comes to soysage, but the patties that Morningstar makes are actually quite good, and they go terrifically with that dry, earthy punch of sage.  If you’re an omnivore and want to use real sausage, ease up on the butter.  I also added a couple of tablespoons of goat cheese when I made it, but it was really just to use up the end of the log.  I won’t note it in the recipe, but throwing it in certainly doesn’t hurt.  Apologies for the mediocre photo.

Sweet Potato and Corn Chowder
serves 4-6

2 tablespoons butter
2 soysage patties (Morningstar highly recommended), diced
1 fist-sized white onion, thinly sliced
4 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 tablespoon dried sage
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper
kernels from 2 ears corn
1 medium-sized sweet potato, peeled and cut into 1″ pieces
2 cups vegetable broth
2 cups milk

In a soup pot over medium heat, melt butter. Add soysage, onion, garlic, sage, salt, and pepper. Cook until onions soften, 5-7 minutes. Add remaining ingredients, bring to a boil, then drop to a simmer and cook until sweet potatoes and corn are cooked through and flavors are combined, about 20-25 minutes.

Spanikopita was always something that my mom made on special occasions or that I got to eat at the Greek Orthodox church’s annual festival, and really never more often than that. It seemed labor- and time-intensive, and I never had enough of a mania over it to want to spend the effort making it. Coming back to giant American refrigerators from my just-big-enough Euro chill chest is almost exhausting, but it does mean that I get excited about tossing in ingredients from major fridge rummages. This spanikopita got extra love from cream cheese, lemon zest, and a squeeze of orange.

The thing about spinach: it’s watery. When I’m baking with it, I prefer to get frozen spinach, because then it’s easier to control the amount of liquid in it. After you let it sit out in a collander for an hour or so to thaw, you’ve got to squeeze the ever-lovin daylights out of it, because if it lets out any of that water during baking, you’ll get a soggy mess and end up ordering pizza for dinner. So squeeze, and squeeze hard.

How unintimidating is spanikopita? So unintimidating I didn’t even look up a recipe. This is spinach and feta and phyllo dough. Nothing to freak out about. If I had covered this up while it was baking, the top leaves wouldn’t have fanned up this way, but I like that they did, so I skipped the foil. If you want a nice well-mannered spanikopita, though, cover this for 50 minutes and uncover for the last 10.

Spanikopita

1/2 pound feta cheese, crumbled
1 shallot, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 packages frozen spinach, thawed and strangled
1 cup whole milk yogurt (don’t use low-fat – that’s just watery)
2 eggs
a few gratings of nutmeg
6 ounces cream cheese, at room temperature
a squeeze of orange juice
zest of half a lemon
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
a few heavy grinds of black pepper
phyllo dough
olive oil
toasted walnuts, roughly chopped

Preheat to 350F. In a bowl combine all ingredients except phyllo, olive oil, and walnuts. Drizzle olive oil over the bottom of a 9″x13″ baking dish and place 2-3 layers of phyllo in the bottom. Spread with 1/3 of the spinach mixture. Put 2-3 more layers of phyllo down, drizzle it with olive oil (you don’t even have to pull out the pastry brush! How easy is this?), and spread another third of the mixture. Repeat once more, then top off with another couple of layers of phyllo, topping off with another drizzle of oil – but this time, make sure you get the oil out on the edges too, since you don’t want them to get too dry in the oven. Pop it in for an hour. When it’s golden brown and bubbling, you’re good to go. Let it cool for about 10 minutes, then cut it up and serve garnished with walnuts.

 Gyuveche (pronounced “GYOO-vech-ay”) is the name of both the dish and the pot it bakes in.  It’s essentially a casserole, but what makes it unique is its being built around a big block of sirene, the feta-like Bulgarian cheese that I will miss dearly after I leave this country.  It can be made any number of ways – most often involving salami, which is why I end up giving it a pass at restaurants – but in this version I added lentils, since I wanted something a little more substantial than just cheese and vegetables.  I’ve never heard of it being done this way, but it worked out really well.  I just made sure to put them on the bottom of the pot, and the liquid that the sirene and vegetables gave as they baked was enough to give them something to simmer in.  This is great comfort food – warm and mushy, but with a little chew from the lentils and just enough brightness from the veggies to make you feel healthy.  Most Bulgarians would insist on adding savory, which here is called chubritsa, but I’m not such a fan, so I left it out.  You can, of course, correct this grievous cultural error – a quarter teaspoon should cover it.

 I often put potatoes in my gyuveche, but I ran out of room this time!  The variations are endless as long as you put the cheese in there – beets and potatoes?  Broccoli and cauliflower?  Sun-dried tomatoes and oxtail?  Go for it.  I would recommend, however, to pre-cook anything that would let off a lot of water, like cabbage.  Then you just get soup with cheese in it.  (I still regret that lunch.)  If you are using feta crumbles and tomatoes that are a little on the dry side, I’d recommend putting a quarter cup of water or broth in the bottom of the baking dish before adding the ingredients in – otherwise, the lentils won’t get enough liquid to cook in.

 One note on the pictures: last time, on the falafels, I got all kinds of great natural light.  Not so much the case with this one, and all the steam coming out of that straight-from-the-oven gyuveche kept fogging my lens.  I did get a fun shot with a flash, though, something I usually sneer at, but this time I’d like to think it looks Hip and Postmodern.  Please tell me if I’m being delusional.

Lentil Gyuveche
serves 1

1/4 cup brown lentils, rinsed and picked over
100g (about 2 ounces) sirene or feta
1/2 a small onion, chopped
a small handful chopped green beans (I used frozen)
2 mushrooms, sliced
3 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 small tomato, cut into big chunks
1 small bell pepper, seeded and cut into bite-sized pieces
salt and pepper
a drizzle of sunflower or olive oil
1/4 teaspoon dried savory (optional)

Preheat to 350F.  Spread lentils in the bottom of an individual gyuveche or 1-quart covered baking dish.  Top with cheese, vegetables, salt and pepper, oil, and savory.  If you’re using a gyuveche dish, cover as normal; otherwise, leave the lid tilted open just a bit.  Bake 30-45 minutes or until lentils are cooked.