The Humble Kitchen

I found this beautiful broccoli rabe at the Berkeley Farmer’s Market yesterday. I can find almost everything I need there and it’s almost all organic and pasture raised. There are delightfully different products there, like banana leaves and I even found Union-picked broccoli and strawberries yesterday. Amazing!

While I was washing it, I wondered if we could eat the stems, you know, like broccoli. In walked the neighbor so I asked him the question. He replied, “dunno,” took some over to his place and started messing with it. What came back was this…

My daughter eating raw broccoli rabe like a banana (sorry about the cat hindquarters and tail, she never moves from that location except to eat)

What my neighbor found was a tough exterior, similar to the very end of the asparagus and broccoli stems, that revealed a softer, totally edible interior. So I peeled and added the stems to the dish as well. It was a very simple dish and quick too. Only olive oil, salt, pepper, two cloves of garlic, the broccoli rabe, a little Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese and a few slices of sausages on the side.

Gluten free penne with broccoli rabe

While we were eating dinner, my son asked, “Which is more healthier, broccoli or red bell peppers?” He has been interested in nutritional facts lately, for whatever reason. So we looked it up in Laurel’s Kitchen. We were amazed to learn that 1c of broccoli has 324 mg of potassium and 3880 iu of vitamin A. One red bell pepper, by contrast, has 148 mg of potassium and 3295 iu of vitamin A! Healthy indeed.

~Sarah

Roasted bell peppers, onions, mushrooms, spinach and slow roasted tomatoes on gluten-free french bread

You might not believe this, but my 5-year old said that this sandwich was “SO GOOD!” He even wanted the leftovers the next day. I was a little stunned myself.  I honestly thought this eat-most-things attitude would wear off, but it hasn’t. Despite their willingness now, I am still emotionally ready for the day they will only eat pizza.

This sandwich was made with Carol Fenster’s French Bread recipe and some fresh, green bell peppers from my Uncle’s garden. The peppers were wonderfully sweet, not having that weird, acidic edge I find in some supermarket peppers (what is that from? Is it because they are old?). I roasted them for a few minutes on each side and then combined them with some slow-roasted tomatoes and thinly sliced onions from the Berkeley Farmer’s Market. I threw in some mushrooms and spinach at the very end for additional texture and color. Seasoned with only salt and pepper, it made for a lovely weeknight dinner.

~Sarah

Trader Joe’s had organic, red quinoa on sale so I bought some. I had halfheartedly been looking for it, just for a dash of color in my dishes. Most grains are tan or creme so this is a lovely change. I keep having ideas for gratins because I really am on the quest for different and healthy breakfast options that still allow for some creativity.

Because of this new book I purchased titled Nourishing Traditions, I first soaked 1c. of the quinoa overnight in 1c. of water with 2T liquid whey. It definitely zaps some of the bitter taste from the quinoa and supposedly, some of the anti-nutrients as well. All I know is the kids and I eat it and it tastes yummy. To this soaked quinoa I added  an additional cup of hemp milk and some salt. I simmered it, covered, for around fifteen minutes and when the water was almost absorbed, I stirred it and shut off the heat.

Since I was keeping this as close to vegan as possible (in all honesty I forgot about the whey), I made a vegan chocolate pudding as a second layer:

In my saucepan that I have now decided I totally and completely DISLIKE and want to throw out a window, I whisked 2T of Green and Black’s cocoa powder with 2T maple syrup and a few grains of salt. When that was mixed well, I added 1c of hemp milk. In a little cup I dissolved about 2t of cornstarch and 1/3c of hemp milk and added it to the pot. I brought this mix to a boil in the evil saucepan and simmered until slightly thickened.

In the bottom of the ramekins, I placed about 1t of maple syrup and then filled it 2/3 full of quinoa (despite this photo not reflecting that amount).

A thin layer of pudding sauce was added next and then I topped it with pistachios that I had lightly toasted hoping that they’d get, well, toasty. (Never did, they did burn the first time in the other evil pan)

After my son declaring that he only “likes chocolate pudding without nuts” and deeming whipped cream a necessary  condiment, the resulting gratin was a HUGE success. Spider-Man approved even.

I brought it to work to share with my pals MEM and EM and they both really liked it. MEM and I usually sit around contemplating my next creation and also brainstorming how the one at hand could be made better (EM usually leaves at this point or drifts in and out of the conversation). She and I agreed that this needed fruit of some sort and a crunchy layer would have been welcome. I agreed wholeheartedly, but said that I was tired of putting almonds in everything.

I then suggested “hazelnut and apple compote with a fun spice on the bottom” to which MEM chimed in “and orange zest.”

This, my friends, is the next gratin creation…Red quinoa and chocolate pudding gratin with apple-hazelnut compote. I can’t wait.

~Sarah

I am not sure how this keeps happening, but for whatever reason people keep giving me old bananas.

First, I gave myself old bananas by not eating them, then my Mother drove them 150 miles to me, then my neighbor, then the ex when he brought the kids back. All of them alluded to the fact that I “could make banana bread or something” to which I replied, “There is only so much banana bread a person can eat you know.” But, not wanting to waste the food, I had to find another use for all these poor, unloved bananas.

Enter banana and rice gratin with coconut and cardamon.

I had my little pods of green cardamom, split them open and revealed their sweet-spiciness. The littlest chef lent her tiny hands to help to grind them with the mortar and pestle.

After some work with the spice and the reminder talk about sneezing into food one cooks, she determined the work would make her sneeze too much so she set off in search of something more princess-like to do. I continued on.

I made these with my friend Miriam in mind, but I also wanted the kids to have something different for breakfast. As much as we all love pancakes, one should not eat them everyday. Same goes for eggs, oatmeal, cold cereal, it all gets old after awhile…

This was a neat detour. Ultimately this gratin was based on two recipes from Gluten Free French Desserts and Baked Goods.

In a small pot, cook 1/3c of rice semolina with 1c of hemp milk over low heat for about 7 minutes. Distribute evenly on the bottom of your ramekins or bowls.

Coarsely chop about a cup of almonds and make a layer of those in the ramekin, reserving some for the banana mixture and the top of the finished gratin.

In a medium bowl, coarsely mash up four bananas and add about 6T of coconut cream. Mix well.

In a small saucepan over low heat, combine 4T of rice flour with 2/3c of hemp milk and heat until thick. Then add 4T maple syrup. Pour this into your banana-coconut mix and add about 2-3t of ground cardamom, depending upon your preference and 3T of chopped almonds.

This is the third layer of your gratin. Sprinkle with almonds and cardamom and bake in a 350 degree oven for about 10 minutes or so. Alternatively you could use the broiler, I just happened to already have the oven on. Enjoy while they’re warm.

~Sarah

This is the sort of lunch I like to have on a cool spring day like this one. Simple and satisfying. Adapted from Jamie Oliver’s recipe.

15 oz can chickpeas, drained
3 new potatoes, diced
2 large (or 5 or 6 smaller) leeks, finely sliced
1 tablespoon olive oil
knob of butter
2 cloves of garlic, finely, sliced
kosher salt
freshly ground pepper
4 cups chicken or vegetable stock
Parmesan cheese, grated
parsley, chopped
Remove the outer skin and dark tops of the leeks, slice lengthways from the root up, wash carefully and slice finely. Warm a thick-bottomed pan, add olive oil and butter. Add the leeks and garlic to the pan, and sweat gently with a good pinch of salt until tender and sweet.


Add the drained chickpeas and diced potatoes and cook for a minute.

Add the stock and salt and pepper to taste. Simmer for 20 minutes, or until the potatoes and chickpeas are tender.

At this point you can purée half the soup in a food processor and leave the other half chunky, or if you have an immersion blender whiz it around in the pot until you get the desired consistency. You want to thicken the soup but leave some chunky stuff.

Stir well and taste for seasoning, this soup likes lots of black pepper. Ladle into warm bowls and top with chopped parsley and some freshly grated Parmesan. Good on its own but a crusty piece of bread is a welcome addition.

-Jennifer

It’s rainy here in Northern California, the perfect time to go mushroom hunting. A friend and I took a walk around Mount Tamalpais last week, and found a selection of wild mushrooms. We are novices, and do our best to identify what we find, but we like our livers too much to dare eat anything.

Though last year I was fortunate to have a lion’s mane pop up in my front yard. After showing it to several mushroom experts, I brought it in the house and cooked it up. Delicate & delicious, these can often be found at Whole Foods and other specialty markets.

There are so many mushrooms available in the markets, though most often I go for the crimini, or baby portabellas. I love their flavor and versatility. I do keep various dried mushrooms on hand, they last forever, and add instant depth of flavor to savory dishes. One of my favorite breakfasts is sautéed mushrooms on toast. Jamie Oliver’s book Jamie at home has an excellent recipe that I base mine on.

Extra Virgin Olive Oil
2 handfuls crimini and/or mixed wild mushrooms, wiped clean
2 cloves of garlic, 1 peeled and finely chopped, the other halved
A few sprigs of fresh thyme, leaves picked
A few sprigs of fresh parsley, chopped
Kosher or coarse sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 fresno red chili, minced
A small knob of butter
1 lemon
2 slices of pain au levain, or your favorite crusty bread

Put a large heavy frying pan, big enough to hold all the mushrooms in one layer, over heat and add a couple of glugs of extra virgin olive oil. Depending on the size of your mushrooms, leave any small ones whole but tear, break or slice the larger ones up. Add them all to the pan and give it a shake to toss the mushrooms in the oil.

Add the chopped garlic and thyme and shake the pan again. Add a pinch of salt and pepper and the minced chili and leave to fry gently for a few minutes. If the mixture becomes dry, pour in a little more oil.

Once the mushrooms have got some color going on, after about 3-4 minutes, add the butter and a small squeeze of lemon juice, you don’t need much — and toss again.

To finish this off and make it into a lovely, creamy sauce, spoon 2-3 tablespoons of water into the pan. Simmer for a little longer, until you have a lovely simple sauce that just loosely coats the mushrooms. Now toast your bread.

When toasted, rub the bread with the cut side of the remaining clove of garlic. Place each slice on a serving plate, pile the mushrooms and the creamy juices from the pan on top, and sprinkle with parsley. Eat immediately.

-Jennifer

Dateline: May 13, 1984. It was our anniversary, and we were suffering house arrest, actually voluntary exile from our favorite Scotts Valley restaurants.  We figured we’d give the local dining spots a break until our toddler daughter Meredyn made it through her over-talkative stage, and her exuberant “finger painting with ice water on the table” stage, which had recently ratcheted up to an unfortunate flying ice cube event involving an unamused fellow diner.  So, no romantic dinner out for us tonight. Misery loves company, so we had invited our friend Ann and her first ex-husband to have dinner at home.  Ann was a labor and delivery nurse, and as usual I got caught up in some story she was telling about the storm of babies born during her latest full moon shift, and lost track of what I had already added to the salad dressing.  Ann took the bowl from me and dipped in a spoon and took a taste, and her tongue came out in disgust, and she said, “Uh! Way too sour,” and she grabbed a bottle of Sue-Bee honey and squeezed some into the bowl and began swirling the mess around with a fork.

“How much was that?” I asked.  In case it turned out well, I wanted to jot down the recipe.  Although that was unlikely in this case: in hopes of saving the dressing, we had now turned to apple cider vinegar and walnut oil, white wine vinegar and sesame oil, all lovely ingredients on their own, but the clash of each addition had plunged us into a successively lower ring of culinary hell.

“Dunno, maybe a smidgen.”

“Much more than a smidgen, more like three quarters of a tablespoon,” corrected her husband, who was a law student and into detail and had a tendency to lurk around noticing what she was doing at all times.  As if he were capable of keeping tabs on Ann while simultaneously converting smidgens to tablespoons, the ass.

This memory got me wondering: what in the world is a smidgen, anyway?  Can it be quantified in any useful way?  Recently I found out the smidgen has been standardized, at least according to the company which now produces a set of 3 mini-spoons: smidgen, pinch and dash.  Whether this standardization is only a conceit to the maker of said measures, whether the spoons are an example of kitchen humor, or whether we can truly now consider these formerly eccentric measures to be uniform is anyone’s guess.  In any case, if you like to browse recipes, you have seen the smidgen, the dash, the pinch, plus the speck and other odd amounts which come into play.

Maybe you’re thinking that these strange measures are all pretty much equivalent and interchangeable, or maybe you’ve never actually lost any sleep over this pressing issue. But alas, according to How Many? A Dictionary of Units of Measure, the brainchild of Russ Rowlett from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, there are definite differences, noted here.

Rowlett, whose website is a wonderful source of data on units of measure in general, cites the mini-spoon company in his definitions of smidgen, pinch and dash, by the way.  Viva capitalism that has such power to reform rough measures into something exact, which must be purchased!  How we might agonize otherwise.  The Stepford wives are ecstatic at their linoleum altars.  But back to units of measure:

A smidgen equals 1/2 a pinch, or 1/32 teaspoon.

One pinch (roughly what you can pinch between your thumb and forefinger), equals half a dash, or 1/16 teaspoon.

One dash equals 2 pinches, or 1/8 teaspoon.  I never would have guessed that the dash is the biggest of these three, would you?  To me, a dash sounds about as big as a sprinkle, which is mighty small.  I would guess that a sprinkle is worth several specks.  Neither of these appears on our list at present so I will try to keep focused.

I shan’t go into half jiggers here either, as I fear it might blow us off course.  Ditto, scintillas and traces.

Pinches, dashes and smidgens have historically been considered dry measures, by the way.

Maybe you’ve begun to worry about how we will measure our splashes of champagne and dollops of whipped cream.  FYI, according to Rowlett, the dash and the splash are equal. (Sighs of relief all around.) But where do the drizzle and the soupcon fall on the spectrum? Should we just simplify, and consider dollops to be liquid mega-smidgens, or at least semi-liquid mega-smidgens? And, do we really need all these equations to cook up something yummy?

Of course a lot of cooking is creative, and many cooks, including me, will rebel against this “one pinch” thing: give me a break, you’re telling me I can’t put in two pinches if I want to?  But my attitude seems to be a tad schizophrenic: why don’t I challenge the finite teaspoon, tablespoon and 1/4 cup?  Perhaps because the odd measures have traditionally been imprecise, I both cherish and disrespect them: I like your quirkiness, smidgen, but you don’t own me.  But then again, these measures do not suggest a manifesto.  Instead, we should use them to liberate ourselves.  Taste every dish you make, and trust yourself as a cook. Let’s practice the art of cooking.

In the end, one wonders if pinches and dashes and smidgens are all that essential.  Probably not physically, but cooking also has a traditional element, so why not nurture these odd terms and ideas and keep watch over them.  Cooking also has a psychological and even a spiritual element.  Especially if you are using an old family recipe, adding that dash of paprika makes you feel as if you are part of a longstanding ritual, as if you are being virtuous and following the rules for once. But if that doesn’t do it for you, go on and be a devil—throw in two dashes, or even three.

Here’s a great “just spring” recipe to get you started.

“Three Dashes and a Pinch” Cream of Asparagus Soup, modified from the Silver Palate Cookbook by Julee Rosso and Sheila Lukins

The ingredients:

3 cups chopped yellow onions

8 tablespoons unsalted butter

8 cups chicken stock, preferably homemade, thoroughly defatted, OR 8 cups vegetable stock

2 1/2 pounds fresh asparagus

1/2 cup heavy cream, if serving hot; 1/2 cup cream OR buttermilk, if serving cold

3 dashes of freshly cracked pepper

1 pinch of sea salt

The process:

Melt butter in a stockpot and simmer onions until they are golden.  This might take 20 minutes, stirring often.  Add chicken (or veg) stock and bring to a boil.

Get the asparagus ready: trim off the tips and reserve for later.  Trim about an inch of woody stems from the end of each spear and discard. Chop remaining spears into one-inch pieces. Add to boiling stock, cover, and reduce heat to a simmer. Cook for 35-40 minutes or until asparagus is very soft.

Puree soup in batches in a blender or food processor. Return puree to pot.  Add reserved asparagus tips and simmer until the tips are al dente, maybe another 5-7 minutes.  Turn off heat.  For hot soup, add cream, 3 dashes of cracked pepper and pinch of salt.   Stir and serve immediately.

If serving cold, remove from heat, let cool, stir in cream or buttermilk, and refrigerate covered.  Before serving, add the pepper and salt.  Serve very cold.

About 8 servings

–Karen Erickson

I learn by repetition. It’s not that I don’t understand something initially, it’s that I can’t retain it. This is part of what I like about cooking. I can watch a cooking show on a certain subject, look up some recipes online, scan my cookbooks for similar recipes, then apply what I have learned to a practical purpose. This, to me, is satisfying. This is what school was lacking. Through food I have learned about the world’s cultures and customs, about geography, history, math and science. Through food I have figured out my own learning process.

Often I will read something in a cookbook, or see something made on tv, jump up and make it immediately. If I have everything I need on hand, it’s as if I must! I suppose I need that instant reinforcement, that repetition, otherwise what I have just learned will get shoved to some far corner of my mind and I will forget it there.

Having said all this, often greed is all the motivation I need. When I saw Giada De Laurentiis make sweet potato and beet chips the other day, I just wanted to eat them, no higher learning involved. When I heard someone singing the praises of the donut muffins at the Downtown Bakery & Creamery in Healdsburg, I didn’t want to wait until I was in that neck of the woods, so I whipped up a batch.

-Jennifer

I don’t have much of a sweet tooth. When I crave dessert it is a buttery pastry or a bitter chocolate I’m after. This is my idea of carrot cake. It’s not particularly sweet, and it is surprisingly buttery, although there isn’t actually any butter in it. I’ve added some courgette (zucchini) just because I had some hanging around.

1 pound of carrots, peeled and grated

2 medium courgettes, grated

3 large free range eggs, room temperature

½ cup buttermilk

¾ cup lightly packed brown sugar

¾ cup agave syrup (or use 1 cup caster sugar)

1 ¼ cup vegetable oil

1 vanilla bean scraped, or 1 ½ teaspoons vanilla extract

3 cups ap flour

1 teaspoon baking soda

2 teaspoons baking powder

1 teaspoon kosher salt

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1 teaspoon ground ginger

⅛ teaspoon ground cloves

1 cup walnut halves

Preheat oven to 325º. Grease and flour a 10″ round cake tin. Mix together carrots, courgettes, eggs, buttermilk, sugar, agave syrup, oil and vanilla. In another bowl whisk together flour, baking soda, baking powder, salt, cinnamon, ginger and clove. Stir flour mixture into carrot mixture until well combined.

Pour into prepared cake tin and scatter the walnut halves on top. Bake for 55 to 65 minutes. Cake is done when a toothpick poked in the center comes out clean. Allow to cool before digging in.

-Jennifer

My brother warned me that I would love these bagels when he took me to St-Viateur Bagel in Montreal. As usual, he was right. When I got home I started my search for a recipe, because you can’t get anything like a Montreal bagel around here. This is the first recipe I tried, and it turned out to be the best.

1 ½ cups warm water

5 Tablespoons sugar

3 Tablespoons canola oil

1 (8 g) package dry yeast (not instant)

1 Tablespoon beaten egg

1 Tablespoon Malt syrup  (I buy this at Whole Foods)

4 ½ cups ap or bread flour, maybe more

1 teaspoon kosher salt

¼ cup poppy seeds

¼ cup sesame seeds

6 quarts water

⅓ cup honey

In the warmed bowl of a stand mixer, stir together the warm water, sugar, canola oil, yeast, egg and malt until the yeast dissolves. Stir in salt and one cup of the flour. Once incorporated turn on mixer, with dough hook attachment, and slowly add in three cups of flour. Dough should be soft but not too sticky. You may need to add another half cup or so of flour. Knead in mixer for at least five minutes until dough is elastic. On floured board knead by hand for a few minutes, roll into a smooth ball and place mixer bowl over the dough to rest for ten minutes.

Divide dough into twelve bagels. I cut 3 oz. pieces with a bench scraper, roll them into balls and set aside until all dough is divided. Then I flatten the dough slightly with my palm and push my thumb through to create a bagel shape. Or roll each piece into a 10″ rope, wrap around your hand and press the ends together.

Set bagels on baking sheets lined with a Silpat or parchment, cover with a tea towel and let rise for 30 minutes. Meanwhile bring 6 quarts of water to a boil in a large pot and stir in the honey. Preheat the oven to 425º. When the honey-water has come up to the boil, drop in bagels, two or three at a time, and boil for about 90 seconds, turning only once. Drain your bagels on clean, dry tea towels. Put sesame seeds on a plate, dip both sides of each bagel in the seeds. Bagels should be generously covered in seeds on both sides. Once the sesame seeds are used up do the same with the poppy seeds. Lay out the bagels on the lined baking sheets. Place your bagels in preheated oven and bake until golden in appearance, about 20 minutes, turning once.

Montreal bagels differ from standard bagels in several ways, they are smaller, sweeter, and not as chewy. The malt gives them a wonderful flavor. I like them best with a bit of cream cheese, smoked salmon, cucumber and black pepper. My daughter likes hers with tzatziki. We also like this roasted vegetable cream cheese.

-Jennifer