The Vegetarian Guy

My first encounter with fresh artichokes off the bush was a springtime journey 25 years ago to Crete. Walking through the village, we would snap the giant thistle buds right off the bush, eating them raw. Most often, my great aunt Yeorgia would cook them in dishes like Aginara Stefado (artichoke stew) with fennel, carrots, celery, lemon and onions. She accompanied the fragrant stew with rice pilafi and hard crusted bread to sop with, it was a perfect meal for the season.

Over the years, I served artichokes regularly at Inn Season Café. We found a surprising number of people to be unaware of how to eat this most ancient vegetable, therefore causing us to use them inside dishes instead of serving them baked, braised, steamed or stuffed as a full globe. Maybe people were fearful of the aptly named choke, but I still tried, pointing out the sensual nature and satisfying experience of eating them one leaf at a time. By the time the artichoke is finished, one usually feels quite full.

One of my favorite dishes used baby artichokes. Pre-cooking them allowed us to remove some of the outer leaves to reach a completely edible and exquisitely tender heart and choke. Sautéing them with garlic and pine nuts, they would be dressed with a light creamy sauce and served over pasta; either homemade fettuccini or a high quality udon noodle (similar to linguini). We served it in two versions, one vegan and one not. These days, I make it without animal products.

This week at the Hillcrest Market, Sage Mountain Farms had the beginning of the local crop of organic artichokes.  I also harvested our first artichoke from the large bushes in the back yard. Excited to do a taste test, I cut them in half, removed the chokes and roasted them in the oven Sicilian style with garlic, extra virgin olive oil and oregano. It wasn’t a fair comparison because the Sage Mountain artichokes had already been harvested for over 24 hours, while our home garden grown globes had only been picked 30 minutes before cooking.  They both had an intense artichoke flavor that practically shouted Mediterranean at me, but the home grown was perfect…tender, creamy and sensual. The season has just begun and with a number of chokes developing on the bushes; it promises to be an auspicious beginning to a great summer of freshly harvested food.

Each day, 30 to 40 minutes is usually spent cooking. Fast traditional cooking is wonderful, but the traditional slow and carefully prepared dishes add depth, perspective and an understanding of the true meaning of the food. I like to use traditionally prepared condiments, such as tamari, ume plum vinegar, unpasteurized miso, cured olives, salted capers and well aged balsamic vinegar to compliment my quickly prepared meals. Often these dishes are rooted in the climate and politics of the era they originated from, adding romanticized imagery of the times of yore. Many well crafted preparations depend on fermentation, something we are rarely exposed to since refrigeration came into the kitchen. These dishes often define flavors of a cuisine with the unique flavors of enzymatic growth. Often they were used in winter to add flavor and vital nutrients when the fresh harvest was not available. Along with preserving and salt curing, fermentation was used to keep perishable ingredients edible.

Sauerkraut is one of those dishes. In Michigan, every Autumn during the abundant cabbage harvest, housewives and farmers would grate large amounts of the cruciferous vegetable on everything from hand graters to handyman crafted grating boxes which could shred an entire giant head at a time. The freshly shredded cabbage was placed with salt in crocks, barrels or bin, then pressed and covered to encapsulate the fermentation process. After a couple of weeks or so, the cabbage turned into sauerkraut and continued to ferment until canning. Today, a good amount of Michigan’s bountiful cabbage crop is turned into nutritious sauerkraut and donated to food banks.

In India, nation culinary treasures such as Idli, Dosa, Jallebi and Dahi (yogurt) all depend on fermentation for unique flavors and health giving enzymes. Dosa has very ancient roots in South Indian Tamil culture that are at least 6,000 years old. This original “crepe” has maintained popularity and is one of the most recognized and cherished dishes in greater Indian cuisine. Thirty years ago, Indian dahi-walla shops were frequently a stove, a pot and a cook (sometimes with a couple of cows out back) who worked among clay vessels of all shapes and sizes made to hold yogurt as it cultured. Down the street, one would usually find a potter sitting on the ground with a throwing wheel, a pile of clay vessels and a pit for firing. For yogurt, the clay would insulate as well as remove whey from the yogurt as it turned to curd over a four to five hour period. Turning milk into yogurt, butter and sweets were a method of preservation before refrigeration and was practiced wherever cows, sheep, goats and buffalo were kept. I remember my Yia Yia (Greek grandmother) making her own yogurt, keeping a string of cultures from one batch to the next. She would culture the yogurt on top of her refrigerator wrapped in towels where it would stay warm enough to transform the milk into a very tangy yogurt.

India also has a long history of pickle making, using sea salt, mustard, fenugreek, chillies and oils. I learned the craft from a Gujarati family and, over the years would make salty, hot, sour and often sweet pickles during the growing season. Pickles from eggplant, green beans, green mangos, lemons, limes and chillies accompanied the regional Indian cuisine we were preparing daily at the time.

Garum, a fermented fish sauce, was used throughout the ancient Roman Empire, much the same way fish sauces are used in Korean, Thai, Cambodian, Fillipino and Vietnamese cuisines. Soy sauce, shoyu and tamari in Chinese and Japanese cuisines are rooted in similar traditions. Asian cuisines are full of fermented products, like Tempeh, Natto and Kimchee.

Commonly acknowledged, products with long traditions of fermentation are beer and wine. The ancients became masters of wine and beer making, not just for the pleasing effects, but also because water could not be trusted. The armies of Alexander the Great marched to India using beer and wine instead of water. Bread baking as we have come to know it also started from the process of making beer and wine. The white coatings we sometimes see on grapes are a yeast that is also used for sourdough bread. Brewers yeast, the by-product of beer making, is also an old source of traditional bread yeast. Beer making is perhaps one of the oldest known fermenting traditions with archeological evidence from 9,000 years ago. Since it is made with grains, beer has kept a close relationship with bread. Ancient Egyptians had massive bakeries at the base of the Great Pyramid, capable of providing up to 30,000 loaves of bread a day and were conveniently located next to breweries. Up until the last 60 years, many people kept crocks with yeast starters in their kitchens to make bread with. With the exception of Prohibition, yeast was readily available from breweries throughout America. Packaged, and especially, active dry yeast are relatively new in the world of food.

With the arrival of dependable refrigeration, many of these foodstuffs were relegated to the realm of cultural identity as they were no longer were necessary. Commercial manufacturers took over more difficult tasks such as bread baking, wine and beer making, yogurt and butter as well as anything else they could sell back to the public in order for to time to be saved in the kitchen. 19th and 20th century kitchens evolved so fast that many of the time honored culinary traditions have become very rare or even lost.

Growing up with my Greek Yia Yia’s cooking helped me to appreciate the deep connections between food, culture and environment. For this reason when the current culinary revolution recognized these same connections, I found a natural kinship with those who embraced it. Over the years, I have also discovered the remarkable role vegetarianism has played in human history. Often, it is associated with the visionary brilliance, notably such souls as Gandhi and Einstein. Every cuisine has some form of plant based food in it and I promote that every culture has vegetarian traditions. Commonly, fermented dishes and condiments are prominent in such repertoires.

Beyond obvious refrigeration issues, both ancient and modern medicinal wisdom recognize the potent nutrition and life giving value in fermented foods. Modern science has also recognized the hazards of improperly fermenting, requiring sterile environments and standardized cultures. While this has undoubtedly increased food safety, we have also lost many organic hand-crafted traditions. Often, much of the health benefit is diminished as well. I include as many of these dishes as possible in my culinary stable and even find that once a cultured product is made, it facilitates quick and easy meals while, at the same time, adding the depth of slowly developed flavors.

Whether a small potted plant or a full landscaped terrain, gardens are a wonderful way to be connected with earth cycles and the life that springs from it.  In numerous studies, plants have been found to be aware of people, emotions and their intentions. Our leafy friends react accordingly, like mimosas which curl leaves when touched. Gardens help us feel the power and ground our energy like an electrical circuit.

Understanding the sentient power of plants, the next step is to translate this power into nourishment, not only for the body, but mind and soul as well. There are many people speaking about a victory garden revival including the first family, who have created a plot at The White House. In modern context, planting and harvesting food is not only about providing high quality local food for families, which is significant reason enough. It is also about nurturing our connection with the earth we reside upon. As a society, we spend inordinate amounts of time and energy separating our feet and hands from the soil, covering it with concrete surfaces and crude oil based products as well as keeping a distance with impervious shoe soles and gloves. Gardening is an organic process and should only be attempted using organic methods.

Meditative, relaxing, soothing are some of the words that describe gardening for me. Sure, one can be industrious digging, trenching, tilling, etc and I enjoy doing those things. Essential for me are the plants, like good friends, each one has unique features and personality. In the plot amongst my charge, familiar with each plant as one would be with animal companions. I nourish them and they nurture me in return…my own version of Walden Pond where higher thoughts are natural and each color, every texture and glistening droplets of water are significant and of the moment.

Past the stages of sprouting and flowering, the waves of first harvests are the most exciting. In the spring, it may be tender arugula, chive shoots and spinach. As the season progresses, delicate lettuces, baby Swiss chard and tender young kale add enough flavor to salads to allow for the lightest of dressings used only to frame the green flavors. With the early months of summer, sweet zucchinis that snap with freshness are connected to bright yellow flowers and the first sun-spiced tomatoes start to appear. From this point on, a well planned garden can provide all the necessary vegetables for the next three months. In San Diego, the summer planting can remain productive for an extra two to three months.

I have often said everyone should know how to cook. Historically, it is a significant connection between humanity and the planet we live on. Gardening is an extension of this and was considered part of the cooking process up until recent times. Encouraging victory gardens is a policy that can transform society, putting us in touch with the land we tread upon, the water around us and the sky above. It begins with a thought, whether a romantic or responsible one. Dig the soil, plant a seed, add water. Simple…yet significant.

This is a simple, yet flavorful method of preparing risotto, more of a pilaf really. Good as a side dish or main course, this recipe is different from the traditional butter, wine and parmesan cheese approach, but every grain of rice maintains an inherent full and creamy flavor. I find asparagus at the local farmers market, thin or thick stalks are fine. The walnuts are from last year’s harvest.  Fresh nuts make a tremendous difference in flavor and texture.

Serves 6

Risotto:

2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

1/2 teaspoon garlic, minced

3/4 cup shallots, peeled and thinly sliced

1/4 cup red bell peppers, finely chopped

1/2 cup garnet yams, peeled and cubed

1/2 cup peas, freshly podded

1 bay leaf

1/4 cup fresh fennel weed, finely chopped

1/2 teaspoon white pepper

1 cup organic Arborio rice

1 teaspoon sea salt

2 1/2 cups water

Separate pan:

1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil

2 cups asparagus, cut into 1 1/2 inch pieces

1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes

1 teaspoon balsamic reduction (or 1/2 teaspoon balsamic vinegar)

1 cup walnut halves and pieces

1/2 tablespoon tamari

In a wide, thick-bottomed saucepan on medium heat, cook the oil, garlic, shallots, red bell peppers and yams until the shallots start to turn clear. Stir in the remaining ingredients and bring to a simmer, turn down and cover. Stirring frequently, cook for 20 minutes until the rice is tender and most of the water is absorbed.

While cooking the rice, heat a sauté pan on medium high heat, add oil and asparagus. Cook, turning frequently, until the asparagus starts to brown on the edges, add the red pepper flakes, stir in and add the balsamic reduction or vinegar. When the vinegar cooks out, add the walnuts, stir them around letting them toast lightly. Add the tamari, stir to coat the nuts and asparagus. Take off the flame and set aside. When the risotto is cooked, fold in the asparagus and nut just before serving. Save a few pieces of asparagus tips and walnut halves for garnish. Serve immediately. Optionally, one may garnish each dish with shaved organic asiago or parmesan, but I prefer ground toasted tamari walnuts sprinkled over the top.

Often, memorable food experiences occur by happenstance. Unfamiliar areas bring unexpected, frequently delightful experiences. A few years ago my son Spyros and I were driving across southern Arizona on I-8, from Yuma to Gila just north of the border with Mexico. It was about 105º F and the desert around us had visible heat waves shimmering up from the hot sands. The occasional billboard advertised Dateland coming up down the road, so after a few grumbles from Spyros, I turned in with the excuse that we needed petrol anyway. Basically, it was a gas station, café and gift shop next to a date orchard in the middle of nowhere. We noticed a sign soliciting customers to buy date shakes in the café. With curiosity aroused, we waltzed through the blistering heat into a 1940s style diner, full of sweaty travelers. Spyros and I sat down on the vintage bar stools, ordered up two date shakes and watched the waitress scoop ice cream in a tumbler with pureed dates and mix it in the old diner style milk shake machine. Served soda fountain style, the first sip was thick, creamy and infused with sun-dried date nectar. Amazing! Maybe it was the heat, but this shake hit the spot and we both finished the entire generously sized confection, slurping each drop from the bottom of the glass. I rarely consume such decadently rich foods, but the searing temperatures in a desolate landscape, without any sign of life beyond this oasis,  justified the exception. I have made the trip a few times since and Dateland has become a must stop destination on Interstate 8. Here is a link about the history of Dateland.

Chefs witness this on a daily basis, but most of us disconnect from the notion that food influences us far beyond the digestive tract.  Eating is a multi-sensual experience and what we hear plays a significant role.  With food,  sound supports the other senses, placing us in a three dimensional experience. Even though it seems to play a background role, the influence of sound on our heart and mind is perhaps the most powerful sense. In Feng Shui and Vedic Vastu, sound is recognized as having the ability to create motion through vibration. What we hear inspires us to react and that is why the aural environment is important in all stages of the food experience.

According to Pythagorus, and confirmed by Plato, sound is the primordial element. This is also embraced by the Vedas from India, which are considered by many to be the oldest books in the world. According to these beliefs, sound is the original element that creates vibration, thus causing movement in the universe. If we could hear across the entire aural spectrum, everything would have a sound, including the silence we currently perceive. According to the Vedas, physical environments can change through sound and it is also an important tool for spiritual connections. Sound is a key part of our environment affecting our mind, body and spirit. Often, ancient Greeks spoke in song. This is still evident through Cretan spontaneous poetry known as Mantinades. Sanskrit is a poetic language, verbalized with meter and rhythm, often with melodious incantations. Sanskrit is called Deva Nagiri, because it is believed to be a heavenly language and is structured in a way that creates change and movement when enunciated. Vedic Brahmins maintain chanting specific Sanskrit mantras can change physical environments, mundane elements and alter the cycles of action and reaction they call Karma.

More accessible to everyday thoughts, music can change moods, evoke passions and greatly effect perception.  White noise and harsh noises can also make a difference. Cutting words, arguing, criticism and expressions of anger are vocal distractions which can  affect us in both subtle and gross ways. Abrasive soundscapes often create stress, adding clutter and distraction to thoughts and actions.  Sound affects our mindset, bodily movement and clarity of spirit. It is natural to see how an aural environment influences cooking. For me, cooking is an expression of what lies within, most often I see culinary actions as a conveyance, of knowledge, tradition and creative expression. As some people are eloquent speakers, the eloquence I rely on the most is in the language of food and all that goes with it.

Choosing sounds

Often, traveling to Crete with my father and son, we found simple tavernas where waves lapped in symphonic meter by our feet while feasting on a crisp cucumber salad glistening with the liquid gold of fresh pressed extra virgin olive oil. Local dialects epitomized the Greek word onomatopoeia, with mellifluous chatter beautifully decorating the aural landscape. Mixed with the scents of the sea and the olive oil basted grills we entered a meditative state, much like Odysseus and the Sirens, where a concentrated effort to extract ourselves from the hypnosis was necessary to accomplish tasks of the day.

A visual landscape is dramatically enhanced by sound. The transition from silent film to ‘talkies’ is one example of the difference. Sound gives depth and definition to sight. To create a fulfilling dining experience, chefs and restaurateurs sculpt the aural experience to compliment and enhance the sensual experience. In dining, sound is a compliment to the meal, a background enhancement that soothes and excites indirectly. Anticipation and salivation are encouraged with the sight of food cooking uttering companion sounds like crackling, spurting, bubbling, puffing and sputtering Sound also plays a direct part as an accompaniment to taste, touch and aroma as food is consumed and we sense such things as crunching, slurping, chewing and swallowing. In some old cultures, a good belch at the end of a meal signifies a cook’s success. Listening, and becoming sensitive, to the sounds of cooking and eating is a very important part of the world of cooking. Just as a spice can change the nature of a preparation, so what we hear when cooking and eating alters the food and how we digest it.

Cold preparations in particular seem to produce more sounds due to brittleness enhanced by the temperature.  While eating, these dishes produce a mellifluous combination of crunches, snaps and juicy sound bites that are intriguing, fun and fresh.

The snack food industry is testimony to the human addiction to crunch. Thinking about it, if we take the sound away from crunching, the feel alone is not enough to satisfy. It is the sound, inside and outside the jaw, which pleases our senses and creates the moment of satisfaction until the next bite. Crackers, chips, nuts, apples, corn, celery, carrots and many other foods are crunch worthy. In a dinner, a light, delicate crunch from a garnish or integrated crispy pastry provides a surprising and very pleasant addition to the sensual experience. A salad is an ideal course for exploring crunching with fresh, crispy greens, delicately cut vegetables, toasted nuts and the snap of fresh cherry tomatoes.

Dessert can turn into an extravaganza for all the senses by adding the crunch factor with a sweet pastry or candied nut.

Jenny, Sara and I walked through Old Town as we tend to visit tourist destinations when guests come into town.  The streets were bustling with families and bar hoppers.  Not many people shopping, but large populations in the bars.  Mexican food is abundant and many restaurants have women in traditional Mexican dress making fresh tortillas right on the street.  The rich aroma of toasted corn wafts throughout the entire neighborhood.  Each tortilla maker uses their own method.  Some use tortilla presses with wax paper, others roll with a pin, but the most impressive were those who formed each tortilla in their hands, perfect each time before they flipped it onto the griddle.  

Reminiscent of days when we cooked chapatis in quantity, I started to contemplate making tortillas for dinner.  As the evening approached, I made the masa ahead.  In addition, our neighbor Joe had given us Tabasco peppers, Italian mild peppers and habanero chiles, so I also decided to put up Tabasco sauce, Pepperoncini and Hot habanero sauce.  The kitchen air soon filled with spicy aromas laced with vinegar, causing the casual passerby to immediately start coughing.  Sometimes, that is what it takes to clear a room! 

The dinner menu took shape as tortillas were hand rolled and cooked one at a time.  The main course of corn, pepita and lime enchiladas with walnut sauce would use the fresh tortillas to help define the dish.  The filling was made with corn off the cob and pepita-cilantro-lime pesto with a fresh, green flavor.  The creamy walnut-shallot sauce was ladled on top of each filled tortilla and the dish was garnished with fresh local avocado. 

The home brewed Tabasco was served on the side, for those with a passion for heat.

Inspiration often can be unexpected as food is intimately entwined in the life of every person.  

Last night Joan and Sara felt like pizza.  Responding with a “no problem” I fired up the Wolf oven.  Normally the dough requires a couple of hours to rise, but fortunately there was a frozen par baked Tuscan crust saved from last week waiting for such an occasion.  For vegan pizza, the approach can be similar to any meal. It is a combination of bread, vegetables and proteins.  In this case, I made a simple almond pesto for the base, sliced  some tomatoes and small broccoli florets.  Thinly sliced red onions were caramelized, then braised with balsamic vinegar.  Red veined Bordeaux spinach from La Milpa Organica at the Hillcrest farmers market was seared in extra virgin olive oil, crushed red pepper and finely minced garlic.  Then, I sautéed some small tofu cubes with tamari and smoked paprika. In addition, chopped Kalamata olives, diced red bell peppers and capers were on hand to sprinkle. The pizza was assembled with the creamy pesto on the bottom, spinach, tofu, onions, broccoli, sliced tomatoes, red bell pepper, olives and capers. After baking the pizza at 375 for 25 minutes, we sliced it and served it piping hot —about 50 minutes after starting. This was half the usual time and significant for busy, impromptu lifestyles.  A pizza does not have to be unhealthy.  In this case, it was full of life and unconventional textures.  Good company, good pizza…an enjoyable evening for all.