Edible Tulip

Three Ingredients, Four Examples

 

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I'm starting a new regular series on my blog that will discuss meals made with a three ingredient concept (I'm liberal when it comes to rules however, as you'll see). Heck, it's the Christmas season, and there's all sorts of food going around that makes me just double over with mashed potato fatigue and crave simplicity. I'm astonished at how many people's regular food intake involves an assortment of ingredients that leave me waking up at midnight starving but with a repulsed sort of feeling, like "hungry? sure, go on downstairs and eat the creamed chicken with frozen peas and a sprinkling of sugared cereals on top." Now I'm a purist where food's concerned and I'll eat a mountain of greens flecked with nuts and dried fruits in a nanosecond heartbeat and feel fit to run strides around the block in heavy snow boots. So I'm focusing in on a few key ingredients for each of my meals over the next month and sharing the inspiration.

Lunch: red leaf lettuce shredded, cooked lentils (the small brown puy kind), diced hard cheese. A large bowl. Toss together. If you need more interesting flavour than rice vinegar/olive oil/red pepper flakes then make a curried dressing with a bit of yogurt, indian curry powder, a touch of maple syrup, white wine vinegar or lemon juice, olive oil, and add enough to just lightly coat your lunch. Eat heartily.

Dinner: sweet potato, bok choy, green beans. Now these are the three ingredients I started with, the core of my meal, the things that made up my dish but I could add to them, while keeping the simplicity, and knowing I could take away the additional ingredients and it would still be good. So around these ingredients I manoeuvred knowing I was heading in the direction of a chow mein noodle kind of meal. Garlic and ginger are natural things to season with but I opted for some green curry paste once the other stuff had settled down and created a bit of juice. I found a can of bamboo shoots so tossed those in too. In my fridge was a freezer bag with a blend of chopped parsley and chopped cilantro so some of that went in as well. I didn't add meat but I had some silken tofu which I cut into some flaky bits and tossed in, chopped cashews or almonds would have been a good alternate amplifier.  Bean sprouts go bad so quickly so I pulled a handful out and threw them in. The noodles were cooked by this point so I ladled the soupy blend on top and there was dinner - a meal based on three core ingredients but added to as I saw fit.    

** These pictures are from the time I spent cooking for a crowd at the Dunedin Art Retreat Centre. In those days, variety was the spice of life, and so I cooked and created as many flavourful dishes as I could, with as few ingredients as possible, to offer differing tastes for differing tastebuds. First off, what vegetable can you possible think of that is a better deal than a cabbage? The thing lasts forever. I sometimes find half of one at the back of my fridge and I think I must have purposely hidden it there, weeks before, when I simply could not stomach any more cabbage. If you use it sliced thinly then a cabbage goes a really, really long way. Coleslaw can be fun to make and there are so many varieties. My favourites are vinegar/lemon/oil based dressings rather than the traditional mayo ones. This Purple Slaw had a tangy wine vinaigrette and a finely chopped blend of cilantro and parsley. There was the Walnut Orzo Pasta Salad that was just that: orzo pasta, lemon zest, olive oil, and ground walnuts. Chopped sage would have been nice too. There was the simple refreshing Pepper Salad made with dices of whatever colour of pepper you prefer, in this case I used red and yellow peppers, tossed them with chopped up cauliflower, and added some shredded fresh mint. There was a Cucumber, Artichoke and Olive Salad. Need I say more? Just toss with olive oil and sea salt.

Black Bean & Sweet Potato Soup

 

This soup is very easy. It doesn't have a lot of ingredients, and you can pick and choose your spices depending on personal preference. You could leave it chunky once cooked through, or you could do as I did, and use an immersion blender, and puree 3/4 of it, leaving a few whole cubes of yam for their colour, or just for the heck of it.  

After I took the picture, I put two smallish dollops of whole milk plain yogurt on top, swirled it into a faint cirrostratus cloud formation, added some really finely chopped cilantro, and a few tiny cubes of avocado (I know I add it to every soup or stew), and then the most delicate spray of fresh lime juice. But plain is good too! This soup is so creamy yet so subtly powerful it reminded me of the flavours of the mountains outside of Guadalajara in Mexico where the volcanoes still smoke.

Blackbean & Sweet Potato Soup, serves 6 generously

2 Tbsp vegetable oil

1 large yellow onion (cooking onion), chopped

3 medium cloves of garlic, chopped

1 1/2 tsp coriander

1 Tbsp cumin

1/2 tsp chinese 5-spice

1/4 teaspoon dry mustard

Freshly ground pepper

6 cups water

2 chicken or vegetable boullion cubes

2 cans of black beans, rinsed and drained

1 large, or 2 smallish-medium sized, sweet potoatoes, peeled and diced

Sea salt

Topping suggestions: lime slices, lime juice, avocado cubes, chopped parsley or cilantro, yogurt or sour cream

Serve with corn bread and sharp cheddar cheese with a side of spicy coleslaw or serve as a starter to a Mexican inspired meal of empanadas, fish or chicken corn tortillas, or chilaquiles.

Guilty Pleasures

So, not sure what you like to get up to when you find yourself with a stretch of 72 hours to savour all alone, but for me, well, it depends on the season, but in winter most definitely I will bathe with a head pillow and suds, I will cook a simple meal that will usually involve something greenish and something made of bean curd and something hot and spicy and chutney-like, and I will plow through a pile of books, usually 7 items high. There will also be nicotine and alcohol involved, but that's a given. 

I'm having a bit of an affair with the local library collection. I knew this was a weakness of mine but I still went ahead and got a library card. I now know pretty much all the books in the non fiction food, travel, memoir, philosophy, social science, science and nature, religion/theology, and pet sections, as well as the magazines the library carries, and a few of the dvds. I ventured into the fiction section yesterday for the first time in search of books written by one Gene Stratton Porter, an Indiana naturalist and author from the mid-1800s. 

My first night alone was the night before the trip to the library. I had gone to bed around 10. If I fall asleep immediately, I'm safe. If I don't, I creep into the periphery of my late night witching hours. I had opened Annie Dillard's The Writing Life at a random chapter towards the end of the slim book and read it through. I continued to the next chapter and then flipped forward to a few random chapters near the beginning and before the hour was out I'd read the book in completion but all mixed up. Good thing it was Annie Dillard because it wouldn't matter how you read her books, her ideas are so perfect in their jumblings they seem to make as much sense if you read them backwards. In the dark of the lamp light I lay The Writing Life on the bedside shelf and picked up Teaching A Stone To Talk, another Dillard meandering of thought. Again, I started on a paragraph that caught my eye on a page sort of mid-way through the book and before I knew it hours had passed and I'd read two entire books. I threw on my terry cloth robe and made my way in the dark lit by snow reflection and made popcorn in a pot with corn oil, ground pepper and sea salt. I was hooked for a good couple of hours, spinning like a top with Dillard's puncturing sobriety, her horrific tales of evil and grace, and concepts hovering whether something or someone or the earth in general was Lilliputian and flea-like or colossal and of great significance. It got me thinking.

Mache or Lambs Lettuce

 

For anyone who has read this website at various points throughout its 4 year existence, well, you know my love of the green, leafy things of this world. They invariably make up at least one part of one meal of each day.

It's winter where I live. And by winter, I mean true winter, real winter, Canadian winter, 9 foot crusty snowbanks along the streetside, and powdered snow up to your kneecaps. Until it snow-rains. And then freezes. And the temperature fluctuates 14 degrees in a matter of hours during an afternoon. That's where I live. In that geographic space of weather variations that all include snow or ice or sleet or hail or blizzards. It's no wonder I spend a lot of time (when I'm not standing over the heat of a stew) thinking of summer greens. How good they taste. Like earth and grass.

Mache, or lambs lettuce, is something I'm pretty familiar with because nowadays at most decent farmers markets you can find mixed wild baby lettuces like arugula, mizuna, mache, and purslane. I also like dandelion which is available at grocery stores everywhere all year long along with frisee and radicchio and butter lettuce. And now grocery stores like Loblaws are carrying items by small mom and pop producers across the continent that are such an absolute treat to have access to. It's like taking a road trip to all the places with the most interesting entrepreneurial farmers and coming away with small baggies of tasty goodies. A few offhand mentions from my local Loblaw in Collingwood, Ontario: fresh bags of shelled peas from a supplier in Prince Edward County, pea shoots from a supplier north of Toronto, hot chiles from a guy near Kingston, and containers of very tender and unique lettuces from suppliers south of the border, such as Epic Roots. Do you read the New Yorker? And do ya love greens, especially how we've gone from the lowly practically non-perishable iceberg lettuce shelf to an array of tender greens with so much punch and bite they become an intoxicating part of the meal. Anyway, if that sentence has you all hot and bothered then read this article by the wonderful food writer Burkhard Bilger about the founder of Epic Roots, Todd Koons, and his single handed effort to introduce mache to the masses across North America).

Mache has dainty spoon shaped leaves bunched together at the root to form small rosettes. It has a slight velvet texture with a tangy and nutty flavour. It's not nearly as distinct tasting as arugula and its leaves are more delicate than baby spinach. I use it like I use sprouts which is to add the leaves to a salad as an accent. 

It is wonderful tossed with mixed lettuce greens in a rice vinegar and sesame oil dressing with sea salt and toasted sesame seeds.  Or try tossing it with a dressing made from: white balsamic vinegar, sea salt, minced garlic, olive oil, chopped hot chiles and adding sunflower seeds and chopped fresh herbs such as tarragon or mint. Lettuce drizzled with extra virgin olive oil and a squeeze of lemon tossed with coarse salt and ground pink peppercorns is easy and delicious. If you like the flavour of nut oils, walnut oil is also satisfying on tender lettuces - mix walnut oil with a bit of sunflower seed oil and a bit of red wine vinegar and drizzle over mache leaves tossed with radish sprouts and chopped shallot.

Randomness

 

How interesting it must be to exist as a library book (or cd or video or magazine). You have eyes into lives without pretense. You are peering constantly behind closed blinds and drawn curtains. You sit beside the master bedroom through the night. You hang out on the back of the toilet for a week, or two, occasionally getting into the bath, whether you like it or not. You drive around on road trips, short or eternal, in the safety of a dark, warm purse. You get a sense of what people eat because drops of it constantly splatter you. People have meaningful discussions in your presence or they have thoughtful, private moments that are all unwittingly shared with you. You are the window into everything a person for the most part shields to the outside world. I can't even cry in front of my dog for too long before my attention is turned to him. I feel guilty or maybe it's just plain self conscious but if I cry and he comes close then my emotions immediate adjust. With my favourite books from the library, well, frankly I just forget your there and I moan and groan and in your presence without a second thought, as though I was entirely alone. Hmm.

Crusty Homemade Bread with Red Rice and Flax Seeds

 

There are so many hackneyed phrases about the smell of homemade bread so I'm not going there (even though they're all true!). Suffice to say, on a damp day, in a cold season, when you're cooking lots of stews and soups and sloppy things, well, bread is pretty good to have on hand, and if your like me and enjoy more of a cereal bread - chewy, crunchy, seedy, with a touch of sweetness - then this bread will knock your socks off.

You can substitute any cereal blend from a bulk store for the Sunrise Blend I've included. There are usually five-grain, or eight-grain, or red river kind of mixes. Any will do. Experiment until you find one that brings the right flavour of nuttiness to your liking. (My sunrise blend was made up of bulgur wheat, buckwheat groats, red rice, whole grain, quinoa flakes, and brown flax seeds.)

The recipe can easily be doubled to make 2 loaves.

Seed Bread

Yields 1 round free form loaf

1. Bring 1 1/2 cups of water to a boil. Stir in 1/2 cup of cereal blend, reduce heat to medium-low, cover and let cook for 10 minutes, or until all the moisture has been absorbed.

2. Once the cereal has cooked, remove pot from heat, and stir in 1/3 cup milk, 1 1/2 Tbsp honey, 1 1/2 Tbsp butter, 1 Tbsp molasses, 1 tsp salt. Let cool. 

3. Meanwhile, in a large bowl, combine 2 Tbsp warm water with 1 package of active dry yeast. Let stand until the yeast is dissolved, and beginning to bubble up. 

4. Stir the cooked cereal into the yeast mixture, then gradually beat in 2 cups all purpose flour and 1 cup whole wheat flour (or rye flour or spelt flour).

5. Turn the dough onto a floured board, and knead for about 10 minutes. Place in an oiled deep sided bowl and cover with a tea towel and set aside to rise in a warm place until doubled in volume, about 1 hour.

6. Punch down the dough (my favourite part of the process!), knead a few more times, place on a greased baking sheet in a softly formed round shape and let rise, covered, until doubled in volume, about 45 minutes.

7. Preheat oven to 350 F degrees. Mark an X on top of the loaf with a knife. Bake about 35 minutes, or until the loaf is crusty, and sounds hollow when you tap it.

Lentil Soup with Pancetta

 

As I continue to flip through my Joy of Cooking cookbook, I see my entire childhood memory of meals all grouped together like a scrapbook. I had no idea that my mother consulted this cookbook for so many dinners, over so many months and years, but here it is, all laid bare, a repertoire of those tastes and flavours that I grew to love or to hate for the rest of my life. I fault an early experience with pearl barley in some sort of soup as turning me off from the grain for eternity. I'm pretty sure the barley was used in a turkey soup, with leftovers from Thanksgiving or Christmas, but either way, I always associate the taste of barley with that of floating fat gobules. Barley aside, I decided to consult the cookbook for a soup that would suit a cold wintry pre-holiday week night. I settled on a simple lentil soup, with canned tomatoes, with an option for bacon (I used Italian pancetta). The recipe follows below.

The results? Not salty enough for my tastes. I added a few drops of tamari into mine and also lots of ground pepper. I also prefer my lentils in a pureed form with a backdrop of curry and lime, more like an Indian dahl. This recipe wasn't bold enough in my opinion to merit another try at it.