My transition from omnivore to mostly vegetarian was gradual enough to register as a nonevent. I only wish I had a dramatic revelation to share. Although I care deeply about the health of the planet, the treatment of the animals we eat and how our food is grown, there was nothing sudden or militant about my choosing vegetarian meals. The simple fact is I eat plant-based foods because they taste good and they make me feel better.
I come to the vegetarian table as a person who loves food, loves to cook and loves big, bold imaginative flavors. As my repertoire of ingredients and techniques and my knowledge of cooking grow, I find myself cooking meat less and less often. My mantra is fast, great-tasting recipes that use the freshest ingredients possible.
I grew up in New York's Hudson Valley, surrounded by farms. It wasn't unusual to come home after school on a September afternoon to bags of freshly harvested tomatoes, eggplant, zucchini (and their glorious blossoms, which Mom fried and we ate like potato chips) or just-picked corn lined up on the back steps. These were gifts from neighbors and relatives, happy to share the bounty of their gardens.
My mother, a schoolteacher and an excellent Italian cook who often quoted her grandmother's saying, "I'd rather spend money on good food than on the doctor," believed that food was the medicine we needed. And to Mom, that meant lots of vegetables. Vegetables, she claimed, had magical powers that would make us big and strong, give us bright eyes and shining hair and ward off that dreaded visit to the doctor. I believed her.
Another major reason for the vegetarian shift at my table must be credited to the growth in the glorious farmers' market movement. Growing up in an agrarian region, I took the local farm stand bounty and the produce from neighbors for granted. Later, as a young adult, I made my way to the big city. It was a time of change. The Union Square Market in the middle of Lower Manhattan opened. Saturday mornings, without fail, my husband, John, and I hopped on our bikes and pedaled over the Brooklyn Bridge to stock up. We must have been quite a sight, with ears of corn bungeed over our back wheels and backpacks bulging with peaches, tomatoes, green beans and, of course, a bouquet of flowers sticking out of the top. This adventure was simply an extension of my childhood. Some of the same farmers who supplied the local farm stands I visited with Mom as a kid were even there.
But no matter how experienced a cook you are, getting a vegetarian meal on the table day after day can be a challenge. One solution is to move the starch—whole grains or beans—to the center of the plate and surround it with ample servings of vegetables. One of my favorite meals is creamy white cannellini beans topped with blistered cherry tomatoes and salty black olives, served with a side dish of broccoli florets stir-fried with crunchy walnuts and red onion slivers. The comforting meatiness of the beans, the tanginess of the tomatoes, the saltiness of the olives and the exciting mix of flavors and textures in the broccoli give the plate contrasts in taste, color and texture—all the elements I look for in a meal.
In this book, "fast" means a meal that takes between 30 and 45 minutes to cook. Since prep times vary according to your skill and style in the kitchen, it's difficult to estimate them reliably, but most of the recipes in this book can be made in half to three-quarters of an hour. If a recipe does take longer than 45 minutes, it is marked "When You Have More Time." All the recipes include menu ideas for combining two or three dishes—suggestions intended to help you pull together a hearty, satisfying and delicious meal. Use them as a springboard, but feel free to mix and match the recipes throughout the book to create your own favorite combinations.
Recently, a friend who was attempting to transition into cooking more vegetarian meals complained, "Gosh, I spend a lot of time chopping." It's true that when you're dealing with fresh produce, there can be a lot of trimming, rinsing and chopping, but over the years, I've discovered ways to reduce prep and cook times. For instance, potatoes, beets and winter squash cook in half the time when the pieces are sliced or cubed. Searing food in a heavy skillet is quicker than oven-roasting. Although I prefer vegetables fresh from the farmers' market, I keep bagged, trimmed supermarket vegetables on hand for emergencies. The quickest-cooking members of the grains-and-beans clan—quinoa, bulgur, farro, white rice and lentils—are always in the pantry, and I keep a batch of brown rice soaking in water, refrigerated, overnight, which cuts the cooking time almost by half.
To help you avoid the frustration of not having a specific ingredient, I've included user-friendly substitutions at the end of many of the recipes. And for those who prefer no dairy or eggs, more than half of the recipes in this book are labeled "Vegan." Quick Hits—short recipes that encourage you to add a simple embellishment to a basic food—appear at the beginning of each chapter. For example, jazz up a batch of cooked bulgur or quinoa with garlic and almonds tossed in warm olive oil or add crumbled feta cheese, dried fruit and pistachios to a salad of mixed greens.
Whether it's a bowl of fancy lettuces garnished with cheese curls, dried fruits and nuts or a simple soup or hearty stew laced with exotic spices, a vegetarian meal need not be a challenge or a cause of frustration. As my mother and grandmother knew, the ultimate goal of the cook is to be certain everyone has something good to eat.