eat your veggies

If you're like me, you are always on the lookout for new and exciting ways to serve vegetables. Perhaps you fancy yourself something of a French woman in training. Or maybe you identify as a whole foods enthusiast. Or a part-time vegan, for that matter. You may be a mom looking to pack nutrients into little kids' diets. Or a First Lady hoping to inspire a nation to eat well (with a hip-hop album!). Or maybe you just happen to believe, as I do, that vegetables are the answer to most problems in life.

Whatever the case may be, when it comes to greens, I'm guessing we can all agree that more is probably better. 

But finding ways to actually get the 7-10 servings a day that we're all encouraged to eat is another matter entirely. And so I am always pleased when I find a yummy veg recipe that works at any meal. 

Zucchini pancakes, friends, are just that. These delicious jack-of-all-trades are a hit at breakfast, as a side dish for eggs. They are magnificent eaten cold at lunch, with a simple beet or carrot salad. And they are equally lovely at dinner, warm with a dollop of sour cream and a crisp green salad. Zucchini fritters are great for picnics and potlucks and road trips, but I have to say that they are especially nice served at sunset summer suppers. As you place a platter of these veggie-packed bad boys on the table, feel free let your guests know that Mrs. Obama would approve. 

Zucchini Pancakes
Adapted from allrecipe.com
Makes 20 pancakes

2 cups of grated zucchini
2 large eggs, beaten
3 tablespoons of chopped green onions
1/2 cup flour
1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 punch of dried oregano
vegetable oil for frying

1. Grate zucchini and then press into a colander to squeeze out excess liquid. Dab with paper towels. The more moisture you get out, the crispier your pancakes will be.
2. Mix together the zucchini, eggs and green onions.
3. In a separate bowl, combine flour, cheese, baking powder, salt and oregano.
4. Heat oil in frying pan over medium-high heat. It is important to get the pan good and hot. Drop spoonfuls of batter into oil. Fry on each side until golden brown. Drain on paper towel and serve. 

salad days

One of the things that I love most about summer is that I suddenly feel like eating salad all the time. In the winter, I tend to look upon lettuce with disdain. But once the heat hits, it's all I want. This solves all kinds of problems, I can tell you. First of all, it's much easier to maintain your girlish figure if you are nibbling on leaves all the time. Second, it provides a definitive answer to the ongoing lunch dilemma. (What to eat? Argh.) And third, it gives you a creative project. And lord knows I love a creative project.

So here's what I do. On the weekends, I buy a ton of veggies. I don't worry about what I will do with them, only whether I actually feel like eating them or not. Asparagus, green beans, avocado, oh my! Then I buy greens: spring mix, baby kale, arugula, you name it. I tend to buy bags or boxes of pre-washed, since I'm lazy in the summer months, but if you have a salad spinner and some elbow grease to spare, buy full heads of lettuce and have at it. When dry, tear into bite-sized pieces, throw in a big bowl and cover with a clean dish towel. 

Next, I buy some good quality protein: farm-fresh eggs, top notch parmesan, thinly sliced pancetta. Anything that I know I'll look forward to seeing on my plate. And some fresh herbs never hurt: flat-leaf Italian parsley and green onions are my top picks. Nuts and seeds and sprouts are always fun too.

On Sunday, I do some simple prep work. I might chop some red peppers or roast some potatoes. And then, every day, I add a new element into the mix. I boil an ear of corn or bake chicken or slow-roast cherry tomatoes. 

The key to all of this, of course, is having salad dressing on hand. If you don't, chances are good that you won't get around to making a salad. But if you do, it's all as simple as throwing some greens in a bowl, adding fun toppings (well, hello there chick peas!) and drizzling the whole mess with dressing. 

This here is my standby. It's a strong mustard dressing, but I've found that if I add extra olive oil, it's milder and can be paired with all kinds of fun flavours. For inspiration, I often consult Bittman's New York Times list of 101 Summer Salads.

Everyday vinaigrette
Adapted from Molly Wizenberg's A Homemade Life

2 heaping tablespoons good quality mustard
1 tablespoon plus 2 teaspoons red wine vinegar
3-4 tablespoons olive oil, to taste
pinch of salt

1. Whisk together mustard and vinegar. 
2. Add oil and whisk well to emulsify.  
3. Keeps for up to a week in the fridge.

gimme that bread

Some people will find this hard to believe, but there are those of us who still eat bread. Regularly. And I am one of them. As far as I'm concerned, there's a reason that it has long been referred to as the staff of life – and that the ultimate expression of companionship and community is breaking bread. Bread is simple, fundamental, essential. There is nothing nicer, to my mind, that tearing off a corner of a fresh baguette and eating it slathered in butter. Or dipped in olive oil and sea salt. Or spread with apricot jam or topped with brie and slow-roasted tomatoes. 

I love sourdough and Tuscan peasant rounds and caraway rye and sprouted whole-grain loaves. I love avocado toast ala Gwyneth Paltrow ("like a favourite pair of jeans" indeed) and yolky, salty, fried-egg sandwiches ala my mum. With peameal bacon, if at all possible. I love thick slices spread with the pimento cheese that my Southern stepmom taught me how to make. Or turned into yummy bruschetta. 

Add to that, as Tamar Adler pointed out in An Everlasting Meal, there's a million lovely, homey uses for a loaf that's past its prime: breadcrumbs, croutons, garlicky crostini and even Italian bread salad or soup. 

All of this is why I will never give up eating bread, no matter how unfashionable it is. I am so committed to carbs, in fact, that I have started baking my own. I tend to favour the dense, whole wheat, seed-crusted, molasses-sweetened beauties of my hippie childhood. But I don't always have the get-up-and-go to tackle all that kneading.

So the below recipe is a good compromise. It's from Kathleen Flinn's wonderful book The Kitchen Counter Cooking School, adapted from master recipe in Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day. It gives you mouth-watering, hearty bread with almost no effort. That way, you can spend all your time and energy dreaming up delicious ways to serve it.

No-Knead Bread
Yields four one-pound loaves

3 cups lukewarm water
1 and 1/2 tablespoons yeast
1 tablespoon Kosher salt 
6 and 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
additional flour for dusting loaves
cornmeal

1. Combine the water, yeast and salt in a large mixing bowl. Stir to mix. Add all of the flour at once and mix with a wooden spoon until the dough is wet and sticky with no dry patches. Loosely cover with plastic wrap. Do not seal airtight. Let it rise 2 hours at room temperature. If not using immediately, refrigerate the dough, covered, for up to 2 weeks. 
2. To fashion a loaf, scoop a grapefruit-sized piece from the bowl of dough and dust it in flour. Rub with more flour and then gently stretch the top around to tuck the sides into the bottom to form a round, smooth loaf. Put on parchment paper, dusted with cornmeal so it won't stick. Let it rise, uncovered for 30-90 minutes. (And no longer, as I learned the hard way! Flat loaves = not cool.) The loaf will plump but not change radically in size.
3. 20 minutes before baking, preheat oven to 450F. Place pizza stone on middle rack. Place a deep baking tray on the bottom rack.
4. Dust the loaf liberally with more flour. Slash the top several times with a knife. Place the parchment paper and loaf on pizza stone in hot oven. Pour hot water into the baking tray and close oven immediately so that steam does not escape.
5. Bake for approximately 30 minutes, or until loaf is golden brown and sounds hollow when tapped. Cool to room temperature. 

that's my jam

It saddens me to think that there are lots of people in this world that have never tasted homemade jam. I myself only recently discovered the delights of canning and preserving and I can't believe I didn't sooner. 

You know that mediocre, tooth-achingly sugary, fruit-like substance labeled "jam" on grocery store shelves? It doesn't even deserve to share the same name as the goodness you make in your own kitchen. It's akin to the difference between a dollar store pashmina and an Hermès scarf. Or Mavis Staples' transcendent "I'll Take You There" and muzak. Mercy.

I took a jam-making class a while back and when I tasted that first spoonful of plum preserves, I gasped. Seriously. I was instantly smitten.   

So friends, please allow me to introduce you to the joys of real jam. I have a feeling you will love this recipe. It serves up the essence of apricot, bursting with summer sweetness, dressed up ever-so-slightly with lemon and vanilla. Perfect for spooning over cream tea scones, crisp toast or pancakes. 

Apricot jam
Inspired by Vintage Mixture
Yields 1 and 1/2 small jars worth

1 and 1/2 pounds apricots
1 and 1/8 cups sugar
1 and 1/2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
1/2 vanilla pod

1. Pit the apricots and cut into small chunks, leaving skins on.
2. Place in a large saucepan and add sugar. Bring to a boil over medium heat, stirring frequently. Spoon off the foam as it rises (save to drizzle over yogurt the next day). Continue cooking until the jam reduces. 
3. Use the spoon test to see when jam is done. 
4. When it's done, add the vanilla seeds. Turn off heat and let it cook for a few more minutes. Remove from heat and stir in lemon juice.
5. Ladle jam into sterilized jars. I'll confess that I'm still a little intimidated by the canning process, so instead I make small batches, refrigerate them, and eat immediately. I think this jam should keep up to a week in the fridge, but my guess is that it won't last that long. Mine certainly didn't.

NOTE: If you are looking for a way to use the remaining half of the vanilla bean, a half batch of this gorgeous rice pudding recipe will do the trick. You also can rinse the pods after use and make vanilla sugar with them. 

kitchen yoga

Those of us who have learned how to bake know the secret to equanimity. When the world pinches us – when we feel discouraged or depleted or slightly despairing – we retreat to the kitchen. 

We know that there is nothing more soothing than mixing and stirring and kneading, nothing more comforting than the sweet scent that fills your home when something is baking in the oven. And we know that there is nothing more magical than the transformation of butter and sugar and flour into cakes and cookies and pies. Baking takes the goodness of the universe and somehow makes it tangible.

Every pastry chef that I have ever interviewed has echoed this sentiment. But I think that Anna Olson said it best when she told me that she refers to baking as "kitchen yoga."

Your recipe need not be super saccharine to do the trick. Healthy recipes give you all the joy of baking without winding up with a gooey chocolate cake hanging around on your counter, insisting that you cut off just one more slice. 

I grew up on these wholesome bran muffins, and to me they taste like home. Sometimes I throw in some blueberries (or raisins, if I'm making them for people who like that sort of thing). But really, they are much better plain. Serve them warm, with just a dab of butter.

Making them is a truly restorative exercise, ideal for performing in the early morning hours on the weekend, as the city slumbers and then stirs and wakes to life.

Zen Bran Muffins
Adapted from The Laura Secord Canadian Cookbook's Cavendish Bran Muffins
Makes 12 muffins

1 and 1/3 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup of bran
1/4 cup of vegetable oil
2 tablespoons brown sugar 
1 egg
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
1/2 cup molasses
2/3 cup yogurt
1/2 cup of raisins or 1 cup blueberries (optional)

1. Preheat oven to 400F.
2. Line a medium muffin tray with paper baking cups.
3. Sift or blend together the dry ingredients.
4. In a separate bowl, mix together the oil, brown sugar, egg, vanilla and molasses.
5. Add dry ingredients to wet ingredients alternately with yogurt. Combine lightly after each addition. If using, fold in berries or raisins. 
6. Fill prepared muffin cups and bake for 15-18 minutes, until a toothpick comes out clean. 

cooking for a crowd

I tend to do my best cooking alone in the kitchen, with nothing on my mind other than a quiet solo dinner. I listen to CBC radio as I putter, or perhaps some Drake or Lauryn Hill, and a sense of contentment steals over me. Chop, stir, muse, taste. There is nobody to please but myself. From this serenity, flavours emerge. As the wonderful food writer Tamar Adler might put it: lettuce and salad dressing join forces harmoniously; noodles embrace sauce; cheeses melt beautifully, oozing gratitude. A relaxed state of mind encourages food to become its best self. 

Unfortunately – and I have learned this the hard way, folks – the reverse is also true. If I am scattered or pressed for time or even slightly anxious, the results are never good. Dishes that I have cooked a dozen times take on alien tastes or consistencies. They resent the lack of attention; they refuse to cooperate. 

And here's the thing: when a bunch of people come to dinner, I am never particularly relaxed. They are at my table and I want to feed them well, but this wanting to feed them well gets in the way of actually doing so. Add to that: they understandably want to talk to me when they arrive. But I can't seem to be able to be present for my lovely guests and give my demanding little dishes the focus they require.

So I no longer try to do both. These days, for dinner parties, I serve things that are ridiculously reliable, super simple and can be made ahead – slowly, quietly, thoughtfully. Like this lasagna. It is straightforward, yields enough to feed a party and is so delicious that I now field regular requests for it. Add an easy peasy green salad, a platter of cut tomatoes strewn with buffalo mozzarella and drizzled with oil and balsamic vinegar and a basket of good bread, and bob's your uncle, you have a satisfying spread.

Next time you entertain, do yourself a favour and have this lasagna bubbling in the oven before your charming friends come knocking on your door.

Easy does it lasagna
Adapted from Chatelaine magazine
Makes 8 servings

1 lb ground beef
double batch of Life-Changing Tomato Sauce
salt and pepper, to taste
handful of basil leaves, chopped
3/4 box of oven-ready lasagna noodles
475g container ricotta cheese
340g package of pre-shredded Italian cheese (I swear by the President's Choice version, which has mozzarella, parmesan and provolone)

1. Preheat oven to 500F. 
2. Lightly brown beef in saucepan, breaking up meat, for 5-7 minutes. Remove from heat. Stir in sauce. Add salt and pepper, to taste. Add basil.
3. Spread 1/2 cup of sauce over bottom of a 9 x 13 baking dish. Cover with layer of noodles. Using a tablespoon, drop half of ricotta evenly over noodles. (Do not spread.)  Spoon half of remaining sauce on top. Sprinkle with handful of cheese. 
4. Add another layer of noodles, ricotta, sauce (reserving a few spoons, as this will help the top from drying out) and cheese. 
5. Top with a layer of noodles and reserved sauce. Gently press noodles into sauce. Evenly sprinkle with remaining cheese. 
6. Lay a piece of foil overtop. Seal shut. Place lasagna in centre of oven and reduce heat to 400F. Bake 20 minutes. Remove foil and bake until lasagna is hot in centre, from 20 to 30 more minutes.
7. Let stand 10 minutes before cutting, as you make sparkling conversation. 

life-changing tomato sauce

I am of the opinion that if you have a good tomato sauce recipe in your repertoire, you are well on your way to becoming a decent home cook. If you have mastered that, after all, you can make winning pastas and lasagnas and pizzas and all manner of sloppy sandwiches. Moreover, you have glimpsed the reality that all things are possible.

This recipe is the first tomato sauce I ever tried and also happens to be the best.

There is nothing in the world like the smell of garlic sizzling in olive oil, and, minutes later, the taste of a rich, hearty tomato sauce. It’s the epitome of comfort.

Also: enormously handy in a pinch. When I am on a budget, I make this sauce. When I get home from work at nine o’clock, famished, and have nothing in the fridge, I make this sauce. When I have friends coming over for dinner on a weeknight (what was I thinking?), I make this sauce. I wouldn’t even dream of ordering takeout. Why would I?

This recipe is happily available online, and I have taken to recommending it to people frequently. I can’t tell you how many have made their first forays in the kitchen with it. I converted all of my non-cooking family and friends – and then I was forced to branch out. 

Recently I was getting my face made up when I sung its praises to the makeup artist, who until then had only ever used jarred sauces. The next time that I arrived in her chair, she greeted me with an enormous hug and raved about how the sauce had changed her life. Then she took extra long on my makeup. So you'd be surprised what a humble little tomato sauce can do for you.

Magic Tomato Sauce

Adapted from David Rocco's Dolce Vita (one of my fave cookbooks)

Serves 4

3 and 1/2 tablespoons olive oil

2 cloves garlic, put through garlic press

pinch of chili flakes

796 ml can of roma tomatoes (no extra seasoning)

salt, to taste

1. Rinse tomatoes under water to get rid of seeds. Place in bowl with juice. Break up tomatoes with your hands. Set aside.

2. Pour olive oil into frying pan and add garlic and chili flakes. Heat over medium heat until garlic is fragrant but not browned.

3. Add tomatoes. Simmer and allow to reduce for 20-30 minutes, depending on the consistency you like.

4. Season with salt and pepper. Serve over pasta of your choosing.

Note: this recipe is a wonderful foundation for all sorts of pasta dishes. Feel free to add grated Parmesan cheese, cracked black pepper, chopped basil or Italian flat-leaf parsley, capers, black olives or even walnuts.

what to eat when you've eaten too much

Sometimes in life, we need to press the reset button. Picture this: you've let yourself get too busy. Desperate for fuel, you begin treating yourself to an endless parade of sweets. Before you know it, this approach has extended to your meals. Cheese on everything! Extra bread! Another round of soda! Attempting to curb your enthusiasm (and perhaps save some precious time), you do away with dinner altogether, but wind up eating bags of chips on the run and calling that a meal. Vegetables become a distant memory; you can't imagine why you ever wanted them. Then one day you realize that you feel tired all the time and you have to strain to zip up your beloved Little Black Dress. You all know how it goes. 

Here's the thing: I happen to have a strategy for times like this. And I'd like to share it with you. When I find my eating out of balance, I face facts, muster up all of my determination, set aside a few days – free from social obligations – and commit to reseting my palate. Sometimes I limit myself to fruits, vegetables, chicken and fish. Other times, I eat vegan. In the winter, I go on a vegetable soup kick. In the summer, it's all about salads. The point is to cut out all of the junk and learn to enjoy real food again.

My current M.O. is the brown rice bowl. As far as I'm concerned, it's pure genius. Clean food – and so satisfying. The key is to make it really simple for yourself. At the beginning of the week, I make a giant pot of rice, grate some beets and buy a bag of grated carrots and cabbage from Whole Foods. I have green onions on hand, and avocados and a little lemon to squeeze on top. I make the sauce (which sounds ultra-complicated, but actually isn't once you've made the herb blend) and viola: dinner for days. I'm back to feeling like myself again in no time flat. You will be too.


Back to basics brown rice bowl
Inspired by the latest cookbook from Fresh restaurant
Serves one

1/2 cup of cooked brown rice
grated beets
grated carrots
grated white cabbage
grated purple cabbage
avocado, chopped
package of extra firm tofu, cubed
green onions, thinly sliced
squeeze of lemon
drizzle of sauce, to taste

Place warm or room temperature rice on a plate. Pile on the beets, carrots, cabbage and avocado and tofu. Sprinkle with green onions and drizzle with lemon. Pour sauce on top.

Sauce
Adapted from the latest cookbook from Fresh restaurant
Makes about 1/2 cup

Whisk together: 

1/3 cup olive oil
2 tablespoons tamari
scant 1 teaspoon mixed herbs

Mixed herbs
1 tablespoon dried basil
1 tablespoon dried oregano
1 tablespoon dried marjoram
1 tablespoon dried dill
1 tablespoon dried dill
1/2 tablespoon dried rosemary
1/2 tablespoon dried tarragon