It’s just beginning to warm up in Colorado Springs, but I’m already balking at long-cooking times and big plates of hot food.
Blooming milkweed with swallowtail in my yard. Read about it here.
Or maybe it’s time for Dave, my trusty sous and husband, to cook on the grill and give me a break.
Done in under a half hour, this lusty (I almost said perky, but perky it isn’t) soup just about jumped out of the pot, put its arms around me, and begged me to eat it. Wonderful for the I-ate-too-many-chocolates post-holiday cooking time, you can skip the fresh basil, if you still haven’t gotten to the store, and add Herbes de Provence or a combination of dried oregano and basil. Easily vegan and gluten-free (with a few changes or lack of a garnish), this meal will heat everyone up despite the weather. It’s sunny, but snowy … Continue reading
If you’re a soup cookbook writer, you probably love soup. I love soup. I’m seldom happier than when I’m heating up a kettle while chopping a big pile of vegetables. Perhaps I’m happier at the table with a hot bowl and a cold class of wine or driving home knowing there’s a big pot of soup in the fridge making me feel rich. I don’t know.
Continue reading
My friend Mary Pat’s September birthday is always a reason for celebration. I often cook her a birthday dinner and find it a happy excuse to make a fallish meal after a long, long summer. (Is it fall YET? The garden’s dying, but it’s still in the 80’s. We sat out last night on the deck at 8 o’clock with a drink watching the blood moon.)
below: my front walk milkweed grown for the monarch butterflies
Here’s the menu that included her favorite dessert (after Cherries Jubilee, Baked Alaska, and Strawberry-Rhubarb Pie):
I like six people for dinner, eight at the most, so that I can truly pay attention to and hear each person. Otherwise, it’s a party–cacophony– and I approach it very differently. I also like to cook a lot of recipes that only serve eight.
Continue reading
Note: an Instant Pot version of this soup was posted in April of 2018. The printable recipe on this post includes instructions for both the stove top and Instant Pot versions.
It is a joy and at times a true puzzle to figure out how to use up leftovers, but a good cook lets nothing go to waste. Or, as Winston Churchill said,
Never let a good crisis go to waste.
And it is at times a “crisis’ in the fridge: 2 boiled eggs, two pieces of bacon, a quart of milk nearly gone bad, a bowl of boiled potatoes, and one piece of sad stale baguette are in your direct view every time you open the door. Why isn’t there a lovely fillet of salmon, a great bottle of Chardonnay, and deeply-green spinach just out of the neighbor’s garden? Instead of a fresh fish meal, you make a quick potato soup topped with toasted breadcrumbs and then chop together a little egg salad for crackers as a side. And often you’re happier than if you’d cooked from scratch. (Aside: In Seattle, you’re fined $25 if food is found in your garbage. You must use and eat or compost.)
below: dogs all dressed up for Easter
Tuesday morning’s “crisis” (OH DEAR) was a bit of cold Asparagus Vinaigrette with Chopped Eggs I had taken to friends for an Easter Eve supper. Holiday leftover crises are somewhat worse than the traditional what’s-in-that-tupperware? problem. Well, I just heated a small plateful in a skillet and cooked two eggs on top for my breakfast:
Colcannon, that adoring Irish and Scottish mash of buttery potatoes and cabbage or kale, is the inspiration for my soup that’s feisty without being overblown. The bacon is a salty, crunchy touch that you can easily leave out for a vegetarian or vegan version. You might add some toasted, sliced almonds or crispy croutons instead. Make sure you have a pepper grinder at the table–or a bottle of hot sauce — for those who like spicy. Scroll down for recipe or enjoy a few of my photos from Ireland first; there are some way at the bottom, too.
Below: At the cathedral in Down Patrick, Northern Ireland August, 2014
Below: outside Waterford, Ireland
Below: pub in Waterford. Dave’s first Guinness in Ireland. Definitely not his last.
Below: Shredded kale (Remove kale stems and slice in 1/4-inch ribbons for soup; sauté sliced stems separately for a salad addition.) Continue reading
Disclaimer June, 2014 : I have used the term “lusty vegan” in my blogs without knowing a book by that name was going to be published; I naively thought it was my own phrase. Just so you know. Not a thief!
I’m on the road, and don’t have much time for a post. Thought I’d share a lovely, spicy, perky, round and warm chili I made right before I left Colorado for Louisville and St. Paul where we saw our daughter Emily and are now packing up the last of our hundred-year-old Minnesota house, respectively.
This chili is made to fit into Mark Bittman’s Vegan Before Six, which is not new, but is still a solidly healthy eating program. This sweet, simple life enables me to eat a carnivorous dinner (with wine), but keeps me on all plant foods until I begin to cook the evening meal each day. I won’t say I’m religious about it –it’s harder when traveling, but not impossible — but I’ve stuck to it more often than not. You might also think of it as an easy way to eat more vegetables and fruit…and you can change the meals around when you need to. For instance, if you’re out for breakfast with friends and splurge on an omelet, you have a sumptuous salad for dinner that night. Flexibility is the key; feeling great is the goal. Continue reading
Disclaimer June, 2014 : I have used the term “lusty vegan” in my blogs without knowing a book by that name was going to be published; I naively thought it was my own phrase. Just so you know. Not a thief!
In Colorado, spring comes in fits and starts, swirling itself in and out through March, April, and sometimes May. There are warm days where we heat up the grill at five pm followed by frozen hoarfrost mornings perfect for stew-making. We, unlike most of the northern United States, have truly fine days long before the real start of spring; January and February can breed 55 or 60 degrees Fahrenheit afternoons when the windows are thrown open for the stagnant winter aromas to dissipate into sweet, albeit temporary, breezes floating down from the mountains. A cook who lives within the seasons and responds accordingly often doesn’t know what to do but be exceedingly spontaneous and keep a daily eye on the weather channel.
Despite snow still appearing on an at least weekly basis, I have for weeks been dreaming of spring vegetables and a new soup to celebrate them. It’s not that we have any spring vegetables cropping up (good pun) in Colorado Springs; we have so little rain that locally-grown vegetables are like gold. And where we live, up on the mesa, it’s bedrock, bobcats, coyotes, deer, and bears. If you had the good luck to get anything to grow, you could be sure something not-so-human would be eating it. I grow copious amounts of herbs in pots and often have cherry tomatoes in hanging baskets on the deck. That’s about it; that’s all I can protect from the wildlife.
below: one of our local young and scrawny bucks making his way through our back garden
Still–the idea of spring food is dear to my heart and I have lovely memories of the Saint Paul Farmer’s Market and its bounty. (In Saint Paul, the Farmer’s Market is still selling winter products, I’m sure. Way too early to plant, though they’re all dreaming and many are starting seeds indoors.) Happy spring vegetables like fennel, asparagus, and leeks deserve their very own dishes with luscious and copious amounts of fresh herbs to encourage them along. While I love asparagus soup ( and who doesn’t), adore leek and potato soup (same thing), and will put sautéed spicy fennel on just about anything, I kept thinking of a soup that featured all of them. Together.
 |
| Vegan and Gluten-Free |
and after I eat a late lunch that I never cook, I typically read something a wee bit ephemeral like the current book club book, a Diana Gabaldan novel, a P.D. James or a Dorothy Sayers (I’m re-reading all of her mysteries this winter). Right now I’m stuck, really stuck on a book called, FROM HERE, YOU CAN’T SEE PARIS, by Michael S. Sanders (2002, Harper Collins) I’ve read a lot of books about living in France (Isn’t there a plethora?), and enjoy them all, but this guy describes things so vividly I feel not only like I’m right there, but perhaps I’m the one writing or maybe participating in some way. Quite touching, quite moving, quite arms-open-wide-here’s-how-it-feels.
There are times on Sunday that we go for a long walk with the doggies; we live near the Mississippi River and there’s a beautiful, miles’ long parkway with walking-bike trails. In the winter, it’s the only time we go to The Mall of America, despite the fact that it’s ten minutes away. Great place to walk in bad weather if it’s not too crowded; I seldom buy anything but lunch.
