Living with a vegetarian restricts my intake of red meat. This is not a complaint–trust me. I consider it a benefit. I’m an omnivore who is happy–and better off– not consuming the vast quantity of beef that many Americans do. And, with just two in our household, it doesn’t make sense for me to buy those great hunks needed for pot roast, meat loaf, and the like.

But, cooking for our Third Thursday Community Potluck is a different matter. No restrictions! Here I get the chance to Go Big and Meaty, should I choose. From time to time, I splurge, and cook up a cauldron of something wonderful and stew-ish. Because it’s so infrequent, I enjoy the process, lengthy as it can be, and really savor the results.

For our most recent potluck gathering–a week before T-Day–I indulged in stewy-splurge. I made a supa-sized batch of Shepherd’s Pie, fancy-pants style. Onions, carrots and parsnips, oven-roasted to a caramel sweet, were folded in with tender chunks of beef, browned and simmered in an enamel cast-iron pot.

Not so fancy, you say?

Not until this step–

Potatoes seasoned with chives and paprika were whipped light and buttery—then piped in a mound of pretty rosettes, sealing in the stew. The whole she-bang went into the oven for a final blast, emerging puffed and golden and utterly irresistible.

Oh, yeah.

Another fancy note, regarding the green you see flecked in the pot. This is “Par-Cel” a parsley-celery hybrid that one of our local farmers was selling last week. Have you ever seen–or used it before? I couldn’t resist something so new. I was surprised at how it tasted: Indeed a true hybrid–possessing both fresh parsley and celery leaf flavors. It was a nice addition, plunged into the pot at the end of cooking time.

FANCY SHEPHERD’S PIE

STEP ONE: THE BEEF
5 lb. Boneless Chuck Roast, trimmed and cut into cubes
4-5 cloves Garlic, minced
1/4 cup Olive Oil
4 T. Balsamic Vinegar
1 1/2 t. Kosher or Sea Salt
1 t. Black Pepper
a few sprigs of fresh Thyme
a couple of sprigs of fresh Rosemary
2 Bay Leaves
1 T. Olive Oil
2 T. Flour

Place cubed meat into a mixing bowl. Stir in minced garlic, olive oil, and balsamic vinegar. Sprinkle salt and pepper. Strip the sprigs of thyme and rosemary and stir into the meat. The meat should be well coated. Add bay leaves. Allow to marinate for at least 4 hours, or overnight.

Heat the stew pot on medium. Add olive oil. Add meat, a few pieces at a time. Do not crowd. Brown the meat on all sides, and remove–putting into a separate bowl. Continue the browning process. When all the meat is browned, toss with 2 T. flour.

Return to the flour-coated meat to the pot and cook gently–toasting the flour. Stir in water to cover, scraping up browned bits from the bottom and sides of the pot. Cover and simmer for at least an hour. Meat should be fork tender.

STEP 2: ROASTED ROOT VEGETABLES
1 lb. Carrots, cleaned and sliced on the diagonal into pieces
1 lb. Parsnips, cleaned and sliced on the diagonal into pieces
2-3 medium Onions, sliced lengthwise into 1/2″ strips
Olive Oil
Salt and Black Pepper
Par-cel, or Fresh Parsley Leaves, or Celery Leaves

Spread out vegetables on a baking sheet and lightly coat with olive oil. Season with sea salt and black pepper.

Roast in a preheated 400 degree oven for 20 minutes, until pieces are softened and caramelized. Remove from heat.

When the beef is tender, add the vegetable to the pot. Stir in chopped Par-cel (or parsley, or celery leaves) Taste for seasoning.

STEP 3: WHIPPED CHIVE POTATOES
4 lb. Russet Potatoes, washed, peeled, quartered
1 stick Butter, cut into pieces
1 bundle fresh Chives
Salt and Black Pepper
1 c. Milk
Paprika

pastry bag fitted with a star tip

Place potatoes into a large pot of lightly salted water and bring to a boil. Reduce to a simmer, and cook until potatoes are tender when pierced with a knife tip.

Pour cooked potatoes into a colander. Drain well and return to the pot. Under low heat, toss the potatoes in the pot to cook off any remaining water.

Place warm potatoes into a big mixing bowl. Using a stand or hand-held mixer, beat the potatoes until the lumps are broken down. Beat in the butter. Season to taste with salt, black pepper. Beat in chives. Slowly add milk, continuing to whip the potatoes until they become creamy and somewhat fluffy.

Spoon whipped potatoes into a large pastry bag fitted with a star tip. Pipe rosettes allover the top of the beef stew. Continue to mound the potato rosettes.

Sprinkle with paprika and bake in a 350 degree oven for 30 minutes—until stew is bubbly and potato topping is puffed and golden.

Serves a Potluck Crowd!

Third Thursday Potluck friends surround the feasting table.

How strange to think of giving up all ambition!
Suddenly, I see with such clear eyes
The white flake of snow
That has fallen in the horse’s mane.

I found this Robert Bly poem, “Watering the Horse” tucked in the back of a mottled recipe notebook, long untouched. It was on a sheet of mimeographed paper, that odd purplish ink, the public school printing method of long ago.

I still love this poem today, perhaps more than when I was a teen–the notion of ambition having altered with experience. At the other end of child-rearing and career building, I call it into question: what I embrace; what I give up; what has meaning.

And then I cook.

One clear ambition, I tell myself, is that each autumn, I seek out alternative ways to prepare butternut squash.

You may recall, in seasons past, that we’ve cooked up Butternut Lasagna layered with leek bechamel, swiss chard-butternut gratin, flan-like timbales with walnut pesto, and savory bread pudding , served with vegetable veloute, perfect for the holiday dinner table.

Each recipe, a tasty vehicle for this versatile gourd.

Now, that ambition could run wild: this being the first year that I tried my hand at growing our favored winter squash—and harvested a healthy basketful.

All sizes and shapes!

This morning, a cushy blanket of fog cloaked our neighborhood. Emerging colors of yellow, gold and burgundy fairly glowed as the fog gave way to an overcast day. I love how brilliant colors come forward in that kind of dull, diffuse light.

The air was cool, too. Chili weather! And then, it occurred to me that the meaty nature of the orange-hued squash would work well in a vegetarian chili.

I decided to give it a go. With Rancho Gordo beans in my pantry, assorted peppers: poblano, banana, jalapenos along with a few stray tomatoes from the garden, garlic, onions, and spices, I had the foundation for a hearty batch.

While the beans began their long simmer, I roasted the diced butternut pieces along with the poblanos. I let them get a little caramel crust, and set them aside to cool. Not wanting the squash to break down in the chili, I would add the chunks towards the end of the cooking cycle, to meld with the “pot liquor” the sauce made by the beans as they cook. I turned my attention to bread–cornbread.

My go-to recipe uses 12 tablespoons of melted butter–an ingredient I lacked. My friend Maggie has a skillet cornbread recipe that uses canola oil–another ingredient missing at the moment in my pantry. What if I made the cornbread with olive oil?

What if, indeed!

I hand whisked the batter. It came together quickly-easily, and went into the cast iron skillet, into the oven.

It baked into a firm but tender crumb, the olive oil imparting depth, an Old World sense to a New World dish.

I know I’ve mentioned this before, but the Rancho Gordo Beans (used in this recipe: “Good Mother Stallards” but other beans would also be delicious) are remarkable for their richness. Meaty beans make mighty good chili.

The butternuts proved their mettle in the mix, too. Slightly sweet, they latched on to the layers of peppery heat. A little allspice and cumin, perfect with this squash, added intrigue. It’s a worthy veggie chili, complex with minimal ingredients, hearty, full-bodied, aand satisfying on a gray autumn day.

And, not at all ambitious to make.

BUTTERNUT SQUASH-HEIRLOOM BEAN CHILI
3 cups chopped (large dice) Butternut Squash (I used 2 small butternuts for this)
1 large or 2 medium Poblano Peppers
Olive Oil
1 heaping cup of dry Beans ( I used Rancho Gordo’s Good Mother Stallards. But, use a good bean of your choice. This recipe would work with black beans, too.)
2 cloves Garlic, minced
1 medium Onion, chopped
2 Banana Peppers, chopped
1 Jalapeno, sliced thin
Salt
Black Pepper
2 t. Allspice
1 t. Cumin

Heat oven to 425 degrees. Spread diced butternut squash and halved poblano peppers on a baking sheet pan. Coat with olive oil, sprinkle with salt and pepper, and roast for about 20 minutes. The squash will roast and caramelize. Pepper skins will blister—peel, chop and set aside separately.

In a large saucepan on medium heat, saute diced onion, banana peppers, and garlic in olive oil. Season with salt and pepper, and cook until onion is translucent. Add dry beans, and stir until they are coated with the olive oil-onion mix. Pour in water, covering the beans by at least 2 inches. Add roasted poblano pieces.

Simmer until beans are tender ( at least 2 hours), adding more liquid as necessary. When the beans are “soupy” and yield tender flesh, add the roasted butternut. Season with allspice and cumin. Taste for salt, and spicy heat.

Serve alone, or over rice. Dollop with sour cream, garnish with green onion, if you like. Enjoy with cornbread.

OLIVE OIL CORNBREAD

1 1/2 cups Cornmeal
1 cup All Purpose Flour
1 T. Sugar
1 T. Baking Powder
1/2 t. Salt
2 Eggs
12 T. Olive Oil
1 1/2 cups Milk
1 cup corn kernels (optional)
1/2 cup shredded white cheddar (optional)

Preheat oven to 425 degrees.
Sift the dry ingredients together. Beat the eggs, oil, and milk together lightly, then beat into the bowl of dry ingredients. Fold in corn kernels, shredded white cheddar.
Pour into an oiled cast-iron skillet (or bread pan.)

Bake for 20-25 minutes. Test for doneness. Cool slightly, cut into wedges and serve right out of the skillet.

Today’s beauteous recipe was inspired by the work of a Nashville chef, Roderick Bailey. He owns The Silly Goose, a charming restaurant in East Nashville, one of my favorite dining haunts. Don’t be misled by its name. While the Goose attitude is upbeat, light-hearted, and occasionally silly, the Goose Food is anything but.

In an economy of space, The Silly Goose folks make some serious good food.

Recently, Roderick offered a dish, similar to the one above, as an evening special. We had taken a seat at the bar that looks into the kitchen, and asked for his recommendation. His description made my decision a simple one.

“The scallops just came in and look really really nice,” he said. “And, I’ve made a kind of pureed gazpacho using these fantastic heirloom tomatoes, and organic peppers. I’ll quickly pan-sear the scallops, and place them in the soup mounded with skillet fried corn–fresh silverqueen. And then, I’ll garnish them with young pea tendrils.”

Sold!

What a bowl of pleasure. A spoon-only meal! I could scoop through the crisp-seared scallops, the spoonful holding corn and heady broth along with each tender bite. Each element held its own kind of sweetness: from candy-acid delight of tomatoes, to the bursting kernels of corn to the briny, almost floral sweet notes of the scallops. The bright green tangle of pea tendrils collapsed and cooked into the broth.

I couldn’t wait to recreate it, and had the right opportunity the following week, when we had guests for dinner.

Well-conceived, the recipe can be made in three simple steps.
Its success relies on fresh picked produce for imparting deep flavors.

Lucky-lucky, my garden had already provided tomatoes and peppers a plenty.

I spread them out on a baking sheet pan, coated them with olive oil, a little sea salt, and roasted them to bring out the natural sugars. Then I simmered and strained the caramelized mass, until it made this lush red broth.

The rest was easy. I love skillet-fried corn, a true Southern cooking technique; unlike creamed corn, or corn pudding, its taste is true, uncomplicated by dairy or eggs. I recommend this preparation to enjoy on its own. Good scallops don’t require much–a liberal dose of salt, pepper, and paprika—cooked on high in a butter-oil combo. No pea tendrils in my purview, but some fresh arugula readily accommodated–a peppery green contrast.

I served these sumptuous bowls with wedges of cornbread, baked in my cast iron skillet, riddled with jalapeno bite. Almost unthinking, one by one, we all broke small hunks into the soup. It added yet another dimension. The table fell quiet, each of us savoring the rare union of soulful sophistication.

ROASTED TOMATO-PEPPER BROTH
4 lbs. Ripe Tomatoes, cored and cut in half (can use a combination of cherry tomatoes, if you like)
1 Red Bell Pepper, cut in half, deseeded
3 Assorted Banana Peppers, stems removed
2 Jalapenos, stems removed
1 large Onion, quartered
4 cloves Garlic
Olive Oil
salt and pepper

Place all the vegetables onto a roasting pan. Brush with olive oil, and season with salt and black pepper.
Roast in a preheated 400 degree oven for 20 minutes, until skins are blackened and blistered.
Cool, and run all the veggies (and their juices, and oils) through a food mill–twice.
Heat in a saucepan and thin with water.
Taste for seasoning.

Makes 8 cups.

SKILLET FRIED CORN
4 ears Fresh Corn on the Cob, husked and cleaned of corn silk
4 T. Butter
Sea Salt and Coarse Ground Black Pepper
Water about 1/4 cup

The trick to this is how you cut the kernels. Holding the ear of corn upright in a bowl with one hand, slice down through the kernels—only halfway through, exposing the kernel center and the most “corn milk.” Using the back of the knife, scrape down the cob to get out the remaining kernel pulp. Scrape back and forth to get the most out of each ear.

Over medium heat, melt the butter in a skillet and add the scraped kernels. Stir well, coating the corn. Add water, as needed. (Some ears of corn are milkier than others!) Season with salt and pepper. Sometimes people add a pinch of sugar, but fresh corn is naturally sweet and won’t need it.

Stirring often, cook for about 10 minutes. The frying of the corn is more like a sauté; the natural sugars and starch from the corn will lightly thicken the mixture.

SEARED SEA SCALLOPS
1 lb. (or so ) Diver’s Sea Scallops (figure 3-4 scallops per person)
Paprika
Sea Salt
Cracked Black Pepper
Olive Oil and Butter–combo for searing, 1-2T. each

Rinse scallops and pat dry. Liberally season both sides with paprika, salt and pepper.
Heat butter and olive oil together in a heavy skillet, just below smoking point.
Sear scallops, about 1 minute per side. Remove from heat.

ASSEMBLY
Ladle hot Tomato-Red Pepper Broth into bowls.
Spoon fried corn to the center of each bowl.
Place scallops on top of corn mound. They will sink a little into the broth—that’s good.
Garnish with fresh arugula, if desired.

Like many of you, I am regularly astonished at how foodblogs have transformed the way that we approach our cooking. Indeed, I have a wealth of cookbooks and years of anchored-to-the-stove experience. But for fresh ideas and personal connection, nothing beats the community of dedicated cooks that I have at my virtual fingertips via the blogosphere.

Like this velvet dream of a soup that I found earlier this month on Nancy Liguori’s blog, The Smart Palate. If you don’t know her blog, hustle on over. A terrific chef, food writer, and non-practicing MD, Nancy lives in Manhattan and posts about her culinary adventures with a healthy, seasonal, and sustainable slant.

Her pairing of carrots, parsnips, and ginger in a creamy puree captured my attention. It’s not a difficult soup to make. It relies on the vegetables themselves and a little assertive spice for its body and flavor. There’s no potato for thickening. There’s no stock. There’s no cheese, no cream, no dairy. (unless you count the yogurt garnish—entirely optional, vegan friends!)

Parsnips make all the difference.

I confess, I’ve arrived rather late to the Parsnip party. It’s only been in recent years that I’ve eaten them, let alone devise recipes with them. I think they’ve been a relative unknown in the South, and thanks to intrepid local farmers, they’ve begun to show up at our markets.

They are sort of carrot-like, possibly better than carrots, if we were to be so bold or silly to compare them. Parsnips have a little different texture, a deeper, earthier flavor–yet with a pleasant sweetness. As such, they provide a marvelous base for this lush soup.

I followed Nancy’s recipe with only minor deviations. I had more parsnips on hand. I added a smidge of celery. I didn’t have fresh coriander seeds to toast and grind–just some already ground. Same with the pepitas, which Nancy skillet-toasted herself. I picked up a small package of salt roasted seeds for my garnish. I sauteed the parsnips first before adding the carrots and apples, just to account for the inherent variations in cooking times. Parsnips are denser and take longer to become tender.

The soup is both silken and vibrant. A dash of red pepper flakes, or flick of hot sauce would not be out of the question, if you’d like a little fire. Ginger imparts its own kind of heat, but wouldn’t mind being accompanied with some peppery piquancy.

If you are vegan, and decide to leave off the yogurt part of the garnish, it’s okay. But don’t omit those pepitas—not only are the greenish seeds visually appealing atop the puree, their salty, crunchy bites are a welcome contrast to the smooth sweetness of the soup.

GINGERED PARSNIP-CARROT SOUP
adapted from The Smart Palate, Chef Nancy Liguori

1 Tablespoon Butter
1 Tablespoon Olive Oil (plus more for a little drizzle!)
1/2 medium Onion, chopped
2 stalks Celery, finely chopped, leaves included
3 Parsnips, sliced
6 Carrots, sliced
1/2 Apple, diced
1 heaping Tablespoon fresh Ginger root, finely chopped
1 teaspoon Coriander
1/2 teaspoon Cumin
Sea Salt and Black Pepper

to garnish: Plain Greek Yogurt (about a teaspoon per bowl)
Toasted Pepitas (pumpkin seeds)

Melt butter and olive oil together in a deep saucepan on medium heat, and saute onion and celery for a couple of minutes. Stir in parsnips and continue cooking for another five minutes. Add carrots, apple, and fresh ginger. Allow the vegetables to caramelize as they cook, and scrape up the little browned bits from the bottom of the pan.

Season with salt, pepper, cumin, and coriander.

Cover vegetables with water—about 5 cups—-and bring to just under a boil.
Simmer, covered, until parsnips and carrots are tender–about 20 minutes.
Puree the veggies and broth in a food processor fitted with the swivel blade.
Taste for seasonings and adjust.

Gently warm the pureed soup and pour into bowls.
Garnish with a swirl of plain Greek yogurt, some toasted pepitas, and a drizzle of fruity olive oil.
Serves 4-6.

Too hot for soup?

Think again—it’s really just as hot eating sauced pastas, or grilled kebabs, fluffy omelets, or stir-frys. In a way, soup is lighter, less of a commitment. And yet, it can still soothe, still satisfy.

Like this soup that my cousin cooked up one evening during her visit.

It highlights the golden bounty of summer, with a couple of surprising twists: like the counterpoint of jalapeno heat and nutmeg spice. Oh, yeah.

It has a very adaptable nature, too. Cousin Cathy got her inspiration from a Jane Brody recipe that features zucchini, corn, chicken broth. On occasion, she has replaced the corn with hominy, with favorable results. While at my house, we made a few other substitutions that created a marvelous, complex layering of flavors–with minimal effort.

This year, my garden zucchini crop was a curious, abysmal failure–beautiful plants that bore almost no fruit–but my “straight-eights” produced aplenty, an easy ingredient swap. A soup with sweet yellow squash paired with farmer’s market peaches-and-cream corn roasted on the grill….

…became anchored in an earthy wash of mushroom broth. Another surprise!

In deference to the vegetarian in the house, we opted out of using chicken broth. Cathy didn’t want the inherent sweetness you find in some vegetable stocks—a little “carrot forward” she correctly thought. I had a container of organic mushroom broth in my pantry, how about using this?

A-ha!

Once she sauteed the onion in butter, Cathy poured in our mushroomy brown liquid–the color is not the most visually appealing, but its aroma is pleasant, almost musty, with hints of garlic. (and, that color mellows out, when you add the milk.)

The squash, corn, jalapenos all simmered briefly, imparting their good flavors, while retaining their integrity.

As I typically saute my veggies before adding the broth–caramelizing them somewhat, for deeper flavor—I was surprised, and pleased by this simpler method. It kept the texture and bite of the soup right.

A Heads-Up: The garnishing is not just for show—it plays in key role in the soup’s success. Especially the nutmeg. If you have–or can get–whole nutmeg, and grate it over the soup just before serving, you’ll be astounded by what a compelling top note of spice it brings to the mix.

Overall, you’ll find intriguing tastes at play, arrived at in quick-time. Perfect for waking up a sleepy palate in the waning summer heat.

COUSIN CATHY’S ROASTED CORN-SUMMER SQUASH SOUP adapted from Jane Brody’s Good Food Cookbook

1 small Onion, diced
1 1/2 t. Butter
2 c. Mushroom Broth
2 c. Yellow Squash, diced
2 c. Roasted Corn Kernels
2 T. chopped Jalapenos or Green Chiles
1 c. lowfat Milk
2 oz. Monterey Jack Cheese, shredded
Chopped Italian Flatleaf Parsley for garnish
Fresh grated Nutmeg for garnish

Saute onion in butter until translucent, about 3 minutes.
Stir in broth, squash, corn, and chilis. Season with salt and pepper.
Bring to just under a boil, reduce heat, cover pan and cook until squash is tender, about 5 minutes.

Stir in milk and heat until hot, not boiling.

Pour into bowls, and sprinkle with cheese and parsley, and fresh grated nutmeg.

Serves 4

“If there’s one thing I can do, I can grow leeks.”

That was Gigi’s pronouncement, as we trudged, shovels-in-arms, up the hill to the sunny patch where a long row of leeks stood tall and fat in the ground.

But as we surveyed the rest of her Wedgewood Urban Gardens, we leek-diggers were most amazed—and thrilled—to find an array of other good things growing. Mother Nature was doing what she does best, mostly unattended:

Thyme and tarragon, rumpled spinach,
Chives and spring onions, feathery carrot greens,
shoots of sorrel, cilantro, rainbow chard,
Big tufts of curly kale.

Very quickly, the idea for my community pot luck dish took shape.
I had a package of Heirloom Borlotti Beans (from Rancho Gordo, yes!), several pints of a very prolific peach tomato that Gigi had canned last summer (She can grow those, too!) and now a raft of leeks, chives, and kale. How about a sort of Springtime version of Pasta e Fagioli: Pasta and Beans?

Rather than begin with the usual suspects, onion-carrot-garlic-celery,
this base is All Leek. Sauté the color of spring in some fruity olive oil and give plump borlotti beans a tumble in the greens before adding water and tomatoes.

After simmering for about two hours, the beans become firm but tender. Add the torn-up, crinkly kale leaves to collapse into the stew, and sprinkle in some crushed red pepper flakes. The kale is a wonderful add-in here, those crinkly leaves sop up the flavors and mellow, while retaining tooth.

Something about Gigi’s lemon-colored tomatoes nudged me to take that citrus sensibility a step further, and I sliced a lemon, squeezed a little juice into the pot, and plopped in the fruit, rind and all.

Lovely. That acid tang compliments the nutlike bean, smooth pasta, sweet spring earth of leek. It adds more light to the dish. Perfect, as the sun adds more light to each day…

Oh, and about the pasta: You can put in whatever sort you’d like–small bits are best, saved for the last ten minutes of cooking. Since I have it on very good authority
that it is perfectly acceptable—possibly preferable—to break up ribbons of tagliatelle (but never spaghetti!) into pieces for the pasta component of the dish, that’s exactly what I did!

To Spring!

Heading into Spring Pasta e Fagioli
4 T. Olive Oil
4 Leeks, cleaned and chopped
Salt and Black Pepper
1 lb. Borlotti or Cranberry Beans, soaked overnight
3-4 pints of Canned Tomatoes
1 bunch Kale
Red Pepper Flakes
1 Lemon, cut in half, seeded
1/2 lb. Tagliatelle, broken into pieces
Chives–a handful, chopped

In a stockpot, sauté leeks in olive oil for about five minutes. They will soften and sweeten. Season with salt-n-peppa. Stir in the beans, and let them get well-coated with the olive oil-leek mix before adding water. Add just enough water to cover the beans by an inch or two.

Simmer for 30 minutes and add the canned tomatoes, juice and all.
Simmer, covered, for another 45 minutes. Add the kale and a dusting of red pepper flakes. Squeeze in the lemon juice and toss in the rest.
Simmer another 30 minutes. Taste for salt, black pepper, and red chili heat.

If you want the Pasta e Fagioli thinner, add more liquid (water, tomato juice, vegetable stock) If you’d like it Stand-up Thick, mash a few beans and let it simmer, uncovered.

Break up pasta into the pot, stir in, and cook until pasta is cooked. Garnish with some chopped chives, if you like, and serve.
Makes a Big Batch. (4 qts.)

It has been at least eight years since we’ve had REAL snow in Nashville, the kind that starts in the morning as flurries and builds throughout the day, big fat clusters tumbling down, blanketing the trees, the front yards, the roads, diffusing light, muffling sound…. ultimately bringing the city to a standstill.

Wow. It got really quiet.

And, while I was home, cozy (and succumbing to a headcold), I decided to enjoy the snowy shut-down by making simple comforts: bread and soup.

I had enough of the necessary ingredients: and handful of vegetables for the soup pot, some flour and an unexpired package of dry yeast for bread. These are, after all, basic foods.

With broccoli as the star, mirepoix the reliable supporting players, and potatoes comprising the creamy base, it doesn’t take long to make this hearty soup. It also isn’t essential that you add any dairy to achieve richness, although a modest cupful of lowfat milk added at the end is rather nice. A few shavings of sharp white cheddar, too.

But this is a much lighter version of Broccoli-Cheddar that is often served out in the world, all floury and cheesy and fat-laden.
The potatoes add the creaminess, body to the soup. As they cook along, they all but disappear.

like under a blanket of snow.

Chunks of potatoes will break down, adding flavor and body to the soup.

The soup is beginning to thicken, a good time to add the broccoli florets.

Creamy Broccoli Soup
3 T. Olive Oil
4 medium Russet Potatoes, peeled and diced
1 head Broccoli, stems and florets separated, stems chopped
2 medium Onions, chopped
3 Carrots, chopped
3 Celery, chopped
3 cloves Garlic, minced
3 1/2 qts. vegetable stock, or water
Salt-n-Peppa to taste
1 cup lowfat Milk
1/2 cup shredded Vermont Cheddar

Warm olive oil in a stockpot on medium heat. Sauté the diced potatoes for 5 minutes. Add broccoli stems and the mirepoix (carrots-onions-celery) and stir into the mix, sauteing another 5 minutes. Stir in the garlic and season with salt and black pepper.

The vegetables will begin to soften, and stick to the bottom and sides of the pot. Keep stirring, then add the vegetable stock (or water)

The soup will get a glazy thickness to it. Add the broccoli florets to cook into the batch last. Once they are softened, taste for salt and pepper. Stir in a cup of milk and some shredded Vermont Cheddar for added dairy richness and tang.

And now, for the bread part…….

The thing about bread is Time.

That’s all. And it’s not time where You are actually doing anything—it’s the yeast that’s doing all the work. After you mix up the dough, you just have to check in on periodically, give it a punch, knead it and leave it be. And, put it in the oven to bake.

So, I amend that—it’s really about Patience. It’s worth it. I would like to bake bread more than I do—I am not mindful enough to put it into the plan of a day. And while the recipe for this Rosemary Cracked Wheat Bread is not exceptional, I share it to encourage you.(and myself!) It’s not hard. It’s fun. And, delicious. Just simply to get in the kitchen and bake!

Serve the crusty loaf warm, with a slap of butter on it.
Or, get out your fave olive oil, dress it up with a few strips of sundried tomatoes, polka dots of balsamic….carve a little parmegiano-reggiano….

Rosemary-Cracked Wheat Bread

1 cup warm Water
1 package Active Dry Yeast
1 T. sugar
2 t. Sea Salt
2 T. Olive Oil
1 cup Cracked Wheat Flour
1 1/2 -2 cups Unbleached White Flour
2 T. chopped fresh Rosemary

Stir yeast and sugar into warm water. Yeast will begin to activate–bubble. Add salt and olive oil. Add cracked wheat flour and at least 1 cup of the unbleached white flour and make a soft dough. (add more white flour if necessary.) Knead until elastic. Form into a ball and place into a bowl. Cover with a damp cloth and allow to rise in a warm place for an hour. Punch down again, reform into a ball.

Score with a knife, sort of criss-cross fashion.
Brush with olive oil, sprinkle with coarse sea salt and chopped rosemary.
Let rise for another 45 minutes.

Bake at 375 degrees for 35-40 minutes. Crust with be nicely golden and the bread will “thunk.”

Yes, but no ordinary chicken, no ordinary pot.

Seasoned with a pesto made of coarse grain mustard, garlic, sage, and rosemary, this free-range bird from Au Naturel Farms furthered the range of its Smiths Grove, Kentucky home with the tastes of Provence. With a savory paste both tucked under the skin and spread over the entire exterior, the trussed chicken got cooked to bronzy succulence in a Dutch oven.

And, yes, it was my trusty fig-colored LeCreuset, doing double duty on the stove top and in the oven. I credit the pot and the pesto for making this chicken glisten in a sauce that required no roux to thicken.

That grainy dijon mustard acts as a vehicle for holding the herbs and garlic in place, and adds a nice piquancy without being overtly, well, mustardy. I do believe, too, that it has thickening powers.

I hasten to add that I did toss in some cooked cranberry beans, which continued to cook, break down, and contribute a little more body to the sauce.

The process began on the stove top, where I browned the bird, and sautéed the sturdy mirepoix. A little water, a few glugs of red wine, and into the oven it went to finish off, for the most part, unattended.

After it emerges from the oven in all its glazed and stewy glory, you can carve the chicken at the table, and serve the vegetables and sauce on the side.

As my contribution to this month’s Third-Thursday Community Pot Luck, I decided to carve all the meat, and place it back to bathe in the sauce and vegetables. It was easy to serve to our group that way. ( cut the chicken into smaller bites, extend the liquid more, and you’ve got a rich soup.)

Some people spooned it over the potatoes dauphinoise, others decided the seven-jewel-grain-casserole was a perfect base, and still more chose to just let a serving swim on the plate with all the other wonderful dabs of dishes brought to the dinner. (Word: our third-thursday pot luck is AMAZING. forty local food lovers, forty unique dishes brought to the table!)

Provencale Chicken in a Pot
1 Whole Roasting Chicken
1 Tablespoon Olive Oil
2 Onions, chopped
3 stalks Celery, chopped
3-4 Carrots, cut into nice chunks
2 sprigs Fresh Rosemary
2 cups Red Wine
2 cups cooked White or Cranberry Beans
1 batch of Coarse Grain Mustard Pesto (see recipe below)

Dutch oven

Spread a nice dollop of the pesto underneath the skin of the chicken breast, and liberally coat the remainder all over the outside of the chicken.

Truss the chicken with kitchen twine.

Heat the Dutch oven on medium, add the Olive Oil and brown the chicken on all sides, starting with breast side down. This process should take about 15 minutes. Add vegetables and sauté them, about 5-7 minutes. Pour in red wine. Then pour in enough water to raise the level of liquid about 2 inches—about 2 cups.
Stir in the beans and place uncovered in a preheated 350 degree oven.
Roast for an hour, periodically basting the bird.

Serve either as a whole roasted chicken, with its savory brown vegetable sauce on the side, or carve up all meat from the roast, return to the saucepot and serve over crusty bread or potatoes.

for the Coarse Grain Mustard Pesto:
2 Tablespoons Coarse Grain Mustard
3 cloves Garlic
2 Tablespoons Fresh Sage leaves
1 sprig fresh Rosemary
2 Tablespoons Olive Oil
Salt and Black Pepper

Place all of the ingredients into a food processor fitted with the swivel blade. Pulse until the garlic and herbs are well chopped throughout the mixture.

Here’s a tale of food blogging interconnections….

I have been reading a most splendid foodblog written by a British woman living in Rome; please go meet rachel of rachel eats. Several of her December posts featured Chestnuts in marvelous incarnations–pâte, soup, cake. Both her pictures and prose really got me longing for them, in some fashion. Alas, with other holiday goings-on, I never got ’round to chestnut hunting.

But I did read the small print on my brand new bag of Christmas Lima Beans from Rancho Gordo, where it mentioned that they were also called Chestnut Limas, due to their exquisite chestnutlike flavor. For those of you who may not know about Rancho Gordo, these are the guys growing all manner and form of wondrous heirloom beans, sought out by fine chefs across the country. And, they make it pretty darn easy for you to get them, too. (a favored stocking stuffer in this household…)

I discovered them through another blogger,
claudia of the esteemed cookeatFRET, through whom, I believe, is also how I found rachel.

So here we come full circle. Rancho Gordo’s Christmas Limas, made into this simple stewy-soup influenced by two foodbloggers, satisfied my two desires: I got to cook up these festive heirlooms during festive times, and I got to have a tasty hint of chestnut.

Trust me, these full-bodied, creamy limas will dispel any unpleasant notions and ill childhood memories of the others, (those awful starchbomb Fordhooks that make me shudder and quease now as I type.)

The pity that Christmas Limas do not retain their gorgeous color and mottling as they cook is replaced by the pleasure of their rich flavor.
Indeed, they have a layer of chestnuttiness…..

You could make this recipe more elaborate, with the addition of something meaty, like mushrooms, pancetta, or spicy chorizo—but there is enough serious-goodness inherent in this already very meaty bean. Keeping it simple best showcases that.

Thanks and shoutouts to foodblogging sisters rachel and claudia for sharing great information and sparking inspiration.

Christmas (Chestnut) Lima Bean Soup
2 T. Olive Oil
1 large Onion, diced
3 fat cloves of Garlic, minced
1 piece of red (or orange) sweet bell pepper, small dice
Sea Salt (about 1 t.)
Black Pepper (scattering of cracked )
Red Pepper Flakes almost 1/4 t.–could be as little as a pinch
1 cup Christmas Lima Beans
4 cups vegetable stock, or water, or combination

The night before: place one cup limas into a pot and cover with filtered water. Limas will more than double in size. Drain, but reserve soaking liquid.

The day of:
In a deep saucepot, saute onions, pepper, and garlic in olive oil until the onions are translucent, with edges beginning to brown. Season with salt, black pepper, and red pepper flakes. Stir in drained limas, then add reserved liquid, then stock/water. Stir well and bring to just under a boil—a rolling simmer. Let this cook along uncovered for about two hours, stirring occasionally. The limas will soften, yield creaminess, giving this soup a thick velvet texture. As the beans cook, the liquid can get very thick. But, it’s so forgiving; if you want it thinner, just stir in some more water.

Makes 4 servings.

Simple elements form the base: garlic, onion, sweet pepper. This is what I had on hand. A little chopped leek or celery would be nice, if you’ve got it.

Letting the beans roll around in the saute before adding liquid is a very good idea.

I am crazy about this color.
For a heartier meal, serve over rice, garnish with arugula.

I like to place a clump of arugula on top of the rice, and then spoon the Christmas Limas over—collapsing the greens. Delicious.

Recently, Whole Foods and Le Creuset co-sponsored a pre-Thanksgiving fundraiser at our Second Harvest Food Bank. For a mere $5.00 donation to Second Harvest, you got to sample quite the array of T-Day mainstays and sides, as cooked up by the Whole Foods catering department.

Tasty stuff, too–including free-range heritage bird and gravy, green bean casserole, potatoes au gratin, sour cherry and pecan pies.

And, you got a raffle ticket–for which, Le Creuset donated a 5 1/2 qt. Dutch Oven as The Prize.

The luck of the draw: I won the raffle! I couldn’t believe it. Happy, happy. I was so tickled by this, I felt like a big goofy kid. Sometimes, it’s really nice to win.

The Le Creuset store manager, Joseph, let me pick out the color. I had get the Fig. Isn’t it gorgeous? This is my second raffle win in as many years (in the spring of ‘08 I won 2 blueberry bushes in a drawing at our farmers market) so, I guess you could say that I’m on a roll…

And, I must say that this wondrous Dutch Oven came into my possession at the most timely of moments–our Third-Thursday Community Pot Luck Dinner was coming up, and I had wanted to make some winey-frenchy-stewy dish using beef rump roast I purchased from Walnut Hills Farm. The recipe is part Boeuf Bourguignon, part Boeuf à la Mode–we’ll call it Boeuf à Ma Mode..(that’s beef, my style)

The heavy enameled cast iron pot went right to work, marinating the meat overnight.

Marinade (for about 5 lbs. Beef Roast)
2 cups Red Wine
1/4 cup Olive Oil
4 cloves Garlic, crushed
several sprigs fresh Thyme
Salt and Black Pepper

Mix up these ingredients and pour over the beef. Marinate overnight in the refrigerator, turning the meat at least once, after several hours.

The next day: Remove the beef from the marinade—save the marinade—and brown it well on all sides. While it’s browning, you can get your veggies ready.

Boeuf à Ma Mode
Marinated Beef
2 Shallots, chopped
2 large Onions, diced
3 ribs Celery, small dice
4 Carrots, small dice
2 Bay Leaves
Reserved Marinade
2+ cups Red Wine
2+ cups Vegetable or Beef Broth
1 lb. Cremini Mushrooms, chopped
2 T. Butter
Salt and Black Pepper
2 Tablespoons Dark Roux
Fresh Thyme and Rosemary

Sauté the vegetables in the browned drippings left by the meat–add a little more olive oil, if needed. These sturdy ones will go far in forming a rich flavor foundation for this stew, and will actually cook down so far —over time with the meat—as to almost disappear.

After you return the meat to the pot, pour in the wine and broth, and toss in the bay leaves.

Then, just cover, turn the heat down low, and forget about it for four hours. In the meantime, you can get your mushrooms ready.

Brown the mushrooms in butter, salt, and black pepper in a separate pot. Enhance with red wine.

When the meat is tender, remove it from the pot and cut into bite-sized pieces. (discarding any fat or gristle.)

Thicken the stock with your roux, stir in mushrooms and meat. Simmer and serve.

This rich savory stew served a lot of folks at the Third-Thursday dinner.

Delicious spooned over noodles or rice, this beautiful beef stew also makes a special, hearty meal when served with this colorful roasted winter vegetable medley. A real winner!