In My Kitchen

INTRODUCTION

I started cooking for others decades ago. I cooked at the San Francisco Zen Center, Tassajara Zen Mountain Center (and resort, come summer), Green Gulch Farm, Chez Panisse in Berkeley, Greens in San Francisco, Café Escalera in Santa Fe, and the American Academy in Rome. I began cooking when vegetarian food was weird—sincere, but stodgy—and when there were few resources available to help one learn about how to put vegetables in the center of the plate. Now I am cooking at a time when vegetarian food is part of a great mash-up of taste, values, and experiences. It is finally much more accepted and really not such a big deal. One doesn’t have to defend one’s position nearly as often or as fiercely as one used to; and in any case, one’s position can be quite fluid—vegetarian one day, omnivore the next.

So much has changed in these decades, from values to ingredients, that it’s sometimes hard for me to tell what people value when it comes to their own cooking. I look at a magazine that one week rates snacks at Trader Joe’s and a few weeks later tells about the wonderful pastries you can make with brioche dough—a challenging dough to make—or how to butcher a lamb—something that’s not easily within the reach or desire of most people. My guess is that one’s cooking life can be very fluid, too, that many people go to the effort to make something by hand—to cook—and probably the same people do plenty of assembling from premade foods. There may be lots of people who make their own pizzas—I know one man who has made that his expertise—but pizza places have also gotten much better (not the chains, but small independent businesses) that perhaps it’s not as compelling to make your own as it was when there were no alternatives and we were curious. Fresh pasta used to be so important to make at home; now many of us can buy good fresh pasta, and there are some really excellent dried pastas now available, too. Other prepared foods, from salsas to fermented foods, tortillas to breads, have also gotten better, so why not use them? Good food matters and so does being able to make it ourselves. But when my cooking is helped by some of the products that are now available—foods that are often made by people who care passionately about their craft—I’m happy to support their efforts just as their products support mine.

I cook every day, but when I recently looked at my notes, I realized that I hadn’t made pasta by hand for some time, or pizza. I decided to revisit both, and it’s been a pleasure, but it’s also helped me realize that I prefer much simpler foods and preparations than I used to. We change as our culture changes, and I found I have been cooking in a more straightforward, less complicated fashion—one that is, for the most part, no less delicious. Fresh pastas, yeasted dough, pies and tarts both savory and sweet, or an involved dish that proudly takes the center of the plate—these still have their place. But some can be radically simplified without loss of flavor; or lightened, perhaps through the choice of one grain over another; or recast in light of the ingredients we have today that we didn’t necessarily have in the past—coconut oil, berbere, freekeh, chia seeds, smoked paprika, truffle salt, real balsamic vinegar, and heirloom beans, to name but a few.

If you garden, even a little, there’s a host of interesting plants to grow and cook with, and some of those that come up by the zillions in springtime can be a source of exotic greens and garnishes. I’ve also started to make use of some of the wild plants that are good to eat and are growing in my yard, and that has added to my kitchen vocabulary. Musk mustard in an herb, and wild green salad is a treat.



ARTICHOKE AND SCALLION SAUTÉ OVER GARLIC-RUBBED TOAST
Serves 4; V

When I was spokesperson for the California Artichoke Board, boxes upon boxes of artichokes would arrive on my porch. I’d hear them land with a thud, heaved there by the UPS driver. Of course it was a thrill to be the recipient of so many of these glorious, large flower-vegetables, but where to put them? They went into big coolers with plenty of ice. Then I got busy developing recipes, many of which have ended up in my various books. This little sauté, which I cooked frequently on TV, is one, and it has stood up as a favorite. Happily, it can also incorporate asparagus if you wish to add some (briefly parboiled), making for a more complex seasonal spring stew. Use large artichokes if you like, or the babies I’ve used here. Because they grow low down on the large branches where they get little light, the so-called babies never develop a choke, or much size. They’re very easy to work with, which I appreciate a lot. 

Spoon these artichokes over garlic-rubbed toast and you have a good vegan supper sandwich. Sometimes I add a smear of chèvre flavored with pepper and a bit of orange zest. You can also serve this sauté over pasta, polenta, or another grain, either alongside another dish or by itself.

20 to 24 baby artichokes
Juice of 2 lemons 
Sea salt
1 tablespoon mild vinegar
2 cloves garlic 
2 heaping tablespoons of parsley
Zest from 1 large lemon 
1 heaping tablespoon tarragon leaves
2 tablespoons olive oil, for cooking
1 bunch scallions, including an inch of the greens, thickly sliced
1⁄2 cup dry white wine
4 slices of strong country bread for toasting
Best olive oil, for the toast
Freshly ground pepper
Chives and chive blossoms, if available

Trim the top third off the artichoke leaves and discard them. As you work, put the trimmed artichokes in a bowl with the lemon juice and enough water to cover. When all are trimmed, drain them, and then simmer them in salted water to which you’ve added the vinegar (or use more lemon juice) until tender-firm, about 10 minutes. Drain the artichokes and slice them lengthwise into halves or quarters. 

Finely chop one of the garlic cloves with the parsley, lemon zest, and tarragon, and set aside.

Heat the oil in a large skillet over high heat. Add the artichokes and sauté until they begin to color in places, after several minutes. Add the scallions and wine. When the wine boils off, add 1 cup of water and half the herb mixture. Lower the heat and simmer until the artichokes are fully tender, between 5 to 10 minutes. 

Meanwhile, toast the bread. Cut the other garlic clove in half and rub it over the toast. When the artichokes are done, add the remainder of the herb mixture and season with salt and pepper. Tip them, with their juices, over the toast or onto a serving plate and garnish with snipped chives and chive blossoms if you have them.