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ofearthandstarsI have a large basket of garden tomatoes on my kitchen table. They are not from my garden, but were a gift from my grandma, who I got to visit last weekend. *points to icon* My grandma is adorable and wonderful, just as grandmas should be. My grandpa is too, by the way. He gave me cantaloupes, but those are all gone because my children are greedy cantaloupe fiends.
I cannot decide what to make with these tomatoes. The obligatory southern tomato sandwich with (vegan) mayo, salt, and pepper has been had, and they've made several guest appearances beside dinner already. I'm considering bruschetta or homemade basil marinara, simply because my basil plants are the size of a small child and need taming.
I love cookbooks. I have an unhealthy number of cookbooks...they've spilled off the kitchen counter and some of them are out roaming the bookshelves, cavorting with the fiction and the physics books. I know there are an abundance of cheap, free recipes on the web, but there's something about a book you can hold in your hand that's full of secrets...savory, sweet, umami secrets. When I buy them, I often read them from cover to cover, bookmarking recipes I want to try. I know it sounds strange, but if you're going to pay for a cookbook, you can't just flip through and pick and choose, you have to get a feel for the relationship the author has with the food and a sense for the recipes - what sort of ingredients are favored, and which are eschewed, how detailed and meticulous the instructions are. There's a difference between "saute for 5 minutes" and "saute until leaves are golden brown, and the oil shimmers just at the surface".
I recently ordered Vegan on the Cheap, because I trust Robin Robertson to not steer me wrong. She is the person responsible for my love of black bean chili with cilantro pesto, after all. As with my other cookbooks, I began reading this one not long after I cut open the box that heralded its arrival. Thus far, I am impressed. The vast majority of recipes are not complicated, contain a reasonable number of ingredients, contain ingredients that easily accessible in a rural town, and contain a promising use of spices. Robin Robertson doesn't delve into the edge of gourmet cooking the way someone like Dreena Burton does, but she takes regularly available food and pulls it together in simple ways that bring out the true flavor of the ingredients.
Of course, the other reason I ordered this particular cookbook is because I have been somewhat lax about my cooking, and more wasteful than I should be, and I wanted a good, frugal reminder of how to get back to that. This book does not disappoint in that area, either. Reading it made me smile and reflect on times back when I lived in the BreadBox™, and was better about making my own veg stock and bread and using the fresh vegetables from my garden and planning out the meals. There are tons of good ideas in here, and the recipes I've read through look delish. There is some reliance on 'recipes within recipes', but that's because Robin gives you ways to make expensive vegan replacements (e.g., mayo, seitan) at home.
(This may be why I have a pound and a half of beans in the crockpot at the moment, ready to be freezed in portions.)
One of the nice things about this book, though, is the encouragement to be creative about using leftovers, veggie scraps, and pantry items in the recipes. Even while providing a large number of recipes, it also gives a gentle reminder to let your imagination go wild and your taste buds to lead the way. It's a refreshing read that reinforces that when you have little to make do with, you learn to stretch it, and make it work. Which, isn't really something new for me to be exposed to, but, for whatever reason, I needed that sort of reminder right now.
I keep thinking back to last weekend, watching my 83 year old grandmother peel cucumbers and tomatoes over the sink, and wondering why we have moved away from the art of homemade cooking. Logically, I know it's a matter of convenience and food availability and having the spoons to do it (and people should most definitely prepare meals in ways that don't overuse their spoons), but I think about how we (as a society) seem to miss that connection to our food and its preparation. I think we often take it for granted, how easily available it is, and how little we have to do to create some "instant" version of something. We rarely think to just be grateful for what we have, to make the best of it, and to enjoy it wisely. I think it's something I want to work to get back to.
Good thing I have these tomatoes to get me started.
I cannot decide what to make with these tomatoes. The obligatory southern tomato sandwich with (vegan) mayo, salt, and pepper has been had, and they've made several guest appearances beside dinner already. I'm considering bruschetta or homemade basil marinara, simply because my basil plants are the size of a small child and need taming.
I love cookbooks. I have an unhealthy number of cookbooks...they've spilled off the kitchen counter and some of them are out roaming the bookshelves, cavorting with the fiction and the physics books. I know there are an abundance of cheap, free recipes on the web, but there's something about a book you can hold in your hand that's full of secrets...savory, sweet, umami secrets. When I buy them, I often read them from cover to cover, bookmarking recipes I want to try. I know it sounds strange, but if you're going to pay for a cookbook, you can't just flip through and pick and choose, you have to get a feel for the relationship the author has with the food and a sense for the recipes - what sort of ingredients are favored, and which are eschewed, how detailed and meticulous the instructions are. There's a difference between "saute for 5 minutes" and "saute until leaves are golden brown, and the oil shimmers just at the surface".
I recently ordered Vegan on the Cheap, because I trust Robin Robertson to not steer me wrong. She is the person responsible for my love of black bean chili with cilantro pesto, after all. As with my other cookbooks, I began reading this one not long after I cut open the box that heralded its arrival. Thus far, I am impressed. The vast majority of recipes are not complicated, contain a reasonable number of ingredients, contain ingredients that easily accessible in a rural town, and contain a promising use of spices. Robin Robertson doesn't delve into the edge of gourmet cooking the way someone like Dreena Burton does, but she takes regularly available food and pulls it together in simple ways that bring out the true flavor of the ingredients.
Of course, the other reason I ordered this particular cookbook is because I have been somewhat lax about my cooking, and more wasteful than I should be, and I wanted a good, frugal reminder of how to get back to that. This book does not disappoint in that area, either. Reading it made me smile and reflect on times back when I lived in the BreadBox™, and was better about making my own veg stock and bread and using the fresh vegetables from my garden and planning out the meals. There are tons of good ideas in here, and the recipes I've read through look delish. There is some reliance on 'recipes within recipes', but that's because Robin gives you ways to make expensive vegan replacements (e.g., mayo, seitan) at home.
(This may be why I have a pound and a half of beans in the crockpot at the moment, ready to be freezed in portions.)
One of the nice things about this book, though, is the encouragement to be creative about using leftovers, veggie scraps, and pantry items in the recipes. Even while providing a large number of recipes, it also gives a gentle reminder to let your imagination go wild and your taste buds to lead the way. It's a refreshing read that reinforces that when you have little to make do with, you learn to stretch it, and make it work. Which, isn't really something new for me to be exposed to, but, for whatever reason, I needed that sort of reminder right now.
I keep thinking back to last weekend, watching my 83 year old grandmother peel cucumbers and tomatoes over the sink, and wondering why we have moved away from the art of homemade cooking. Logically, I know it's a matter of convenience and food availability and having the spoons to do it (and people should most definitely prepare meals in ways that don't overuse their spoons), but I think about how we (as a society) seem to miss that connection to our food and its preparation. I think we often take it for granted, how easily available it is, and how little we have to do to create some "instant" version of something. We rarely think to just be grateful for what we have, to make the best of it, and to enjoy it wisely. I think it's something I want to work to get back to.
Good thing I have these tomatoes to get me started.
no subject
Date: 2013-07-21 04:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-07-21 02:43 pm (UTC)