Super Natural Every Day

I LIVE IN A MODEST SIX-ROOM APARTMENT with three-and-a-half-metre-high ceilings on the second floor of a Victorian apartment in the middle of San Francisco. And by “middle” I mean that if you threw a dart at the centre of a map of this city, you’d likely hit my house. My street dead-ends into an east-sloping neighbourhood park, and when you stand at the front window you can watch a parade of pugs and pinschers, big kids on dirt bikes and small kids on scooters, dealers, joggers, and the occasional flute player go by. There are times when two girls set up a music stand in the shade and practice trombone.

San Francisco is a vibrant city that punctuates the top of a fistshaped peninsula, contained on one side by the Pacific Ocean and flanked by its namesake bay on the other two. It is where the North American continent jets out of the sea in dramatic fashion before rumbling east. I’ve lived within a short drive of this coastline nearly all my life, and at the right moment, on the right day, in the right spot, there is no more inspiring place to explore.

Within reasonable walking distance of my front door, you’ll find plenty to eat and drink—paneer-stuffed kati rolls, freshly baked walnut sourdough, Neapolitan-inspired thin-crust pizzas, and egg sandwiches served on English muffins fresh from the oven. There is a tea shop pouring silver needle, gyokuro, and monkey-picked oolong teas nearby. And as far as coffee goes, I often walk to one of the two coffee shops roasting beans on their premises. There is a boisterous bar worth braving just up the block with dozens of Belgian ales, India pale ales, stouts, and hefeweizens on tap. And when I’m in the mood for something more low key, the beer shop in the other direction has a similarly impressive selection in bottles I can take home.

There must be two dozen places to buy groceries. Some are chains; many are independently owned and small in scale. On any given afternoon I might stumble upon a box of purple rice grown by a workers’ co-op in Thailand on a shelf just a metre or so from a jeweltoned jar of locally produced bergamot marmalade. Or, farm-fresh eggs a few hours old across the aisle from hand-harvested Mendocino nori. And the farmers’ markets? There’s one nearly every day of the week, and choosing which to go to depends on how far I feel like walking.

But as exciting as urban living is, I often feel the pull of quieter realms. Drive an hour from where I am right now, and you might find yourself in the midst of a redwood grove, or standing on a bluff overlooking the Pacific Ocean, or making snowballs at the summit of one of the neighbouring peaks. There have been mornings in late spring when I’ve found myself travelling through wildflower-lined highways in west Marin County, poppies spilling from the ditches to flood the black asphalt. Farther inland, in the summertime, you’ll find endless stretches of golden hills punctuated by the craggy silhouettes of old oak trees. In these moments, there are few places I’d rather call home.

I live here with my boyfriend, Wayne, and it’s against this backdrop that I cook each day. The markets, shops, and restaurants define the palette of ingredients I reach for; they influence the flavours I crave.

The hills and vistas, blooming flowers, and candy-coloured houses shape my overall aesthetic sensibility and inspire me to highlight the natural essence of each of the ingredients I choose to use.

This book is a glimpse into my everyday cooking, with the hope that some of what inspires me will inspire you as well.

I resisted the urge to include over-the-top, special-occasion productions. I left out recipes requiring all day Saturday and on into Sunday to prepare, and skipped the ones with six different components. Instead, I kept a simple notebook over the past couple years of my favourite everyday preparations—ones I revisit often.

The recipes are rooted in whole and natural foods, typically feature a handful of seasonal ingredients, offer some inkling of nutritional balance, and (broadly speaking) come together with minimal effort.

For those of you with Super Natural Cooking, consider this a companion volume. Many of the building blocks I outlined in that book are put into practice here. Simply put—here are real foods and good ingredients made into dishes that are nourishing and worth eating.

If you peek inside my kitchen cupboards you’ll probably notice I prefer my rice brown, red, purple, or black; and that I keep a spectrum of golden honeys close at hand. You’ll see soba noodles are allocated a good amount of real estate in the cabinets to the right of the stove, and heirloom beans have taken more than half-a-metre of shelf space on the left. You might (rightly) suspect my favourite section at the health food store are the bins containing grains, dried beans, and flour.

I tend to cook with whole, natural foods—wholegrains, wholegrain flours, minimally processed sweeteners, and fresh produce—ingredients that are as seasonal and nutritionally intact as possible.

I’d be misleading you if I said I don’t look forward to moments when I happen upon something new and special: a raw, vanilla-scented Fair Trade Certified cane sugar from the Philippines, or giant, golden salt grains from the Menai Strait in Wales. Those sorts of ingredients aside, a good portion of the food I buy is grown or produced locally. I find local ingredients taste better and often have a glow and vitality you don’t see in ingredients that have travelled long distances, particularly when you are talking about produce or perishables. And while I run the risk of sounding a bit preachy, supporting good ingredients grown or produced by people who care about our health and the health of our environment is something about which I feel strongly.

Some of you might be confused by the term “natural foods.” It is used in many different contexts, and it means different things to different people. By “natural foods,” I mean ingredients that are straight from the plant or animal. Or that are made with as little processing and as few added flavourings, stabilisers, and preservatives as possible, keeping nutrients and original flavours intact. For example, wheat berries ground into flour, grated coconut pressed into coconut milk, cream paddled into butter, or chopped tomatoes simmered into tomato sauce (passata). For me, focusing on natural ingredients also means doing my best to avoid genetically modified and chemically fertilised crops, as well as dairy products that come from cows treated with growth hormones. I want each meal I eat to deliver as much nutritional punch as possible, and focusing on a range of real, minimally processed foods is the way I go about it.

I occasionally use unbleached plain flour or white sugar, usually in baked goods, when using 100 per cent wholegrain flours (or less refined sugars) doesn’t quite deliver the results I want. For those of you who bake strictly with wholegrain flours, I try to make note of what you can expect from using 100 per cent wholegrain flours in those recipes.

This is as good a place as any to mention that I’m vegetarian, and have been for a long time now. I’m happy to do what I can to leave a lighter environmental footprint on our planet, and I have enjoyed the challenge of shifting my way of cooking and eating to be lower on the food chain. For me, this means being vegetarian, buying a good percentage of my ingredients from local producers, and seeking out sustainably produced ingredients. That being said, it’s each individual’s own personal journey to work toward a way of eating that works for them. Many people seem to be looking for ways to incorporate more meatless meals into their repertoire for a whole host of reasons, and I’m happy to try to provide a bit of inspiration. Many of the recipes in

this book, particularly the main dishes, welcome substitutions, and I encourage you to use some of the ideas as starting points. Go from there based on what is available in your area, or what your family likes to eat.

I think it’s also worth mentioning that while I try to shop, cook, and eat mindfully, I also do my best to remember why I was drawn into the kitchen in the first place—the punch of garlic hitting me in the face after being dropped into a hot pan, the perfume of chocolate wafting from room to room when a cake is in the oven, the explosion of colour I discover every time I slice into a blood orange, or the pleasure of sharing a simple meal I’ve prepared with a group of friends or family. These are the sorts of things that get me excited to cook each day, and I do my best to let them inspire my time in the kitchen before all else.

The cornerstone of my food shopping is a weekly trip to one of the nearby farmers’ markets. I stock up on whatever looks good, and typically this means a range of in-season fruits and vegetables, a dozen farm-fresh eggs (sometimes two), a container of locally made tofu, one of almond butter, and sometimes bread, if I haven’t baked a loaf myself.

I shop alongside many of the best chefs in the city. They push their carts from stall to stall, and I love to sneak glances at what they are buying for their kitchens. There are times, if I don’t feel like I’m imposing too much and if they don’t look like they’re in too much of a hurry, when I’ll ask what they are going to make with those bunches of asparagus or sorrel. Often, the farmers are also a good source of information and inspiration. One of my favourite recipes in this book, kale salad, came out of a quick chat over a banged-up box of purple peacock kale. Another time, while gathering ingredients for posole (a Mexican corn soup), I received an impromptu lesson in how to choose the most flavourful tomatillos—pick the small ones, those that are firm, with a deep blush of purple inside the papery husks.

When running low on ingredients between market visits, I head to one of the little grocery stores near my house. One in particular sources produce from local farmers and has even started to grow a few crops outside the city.

Aside from that, once or twice a month I go to the local natural foods co-op or Whole Foods Market to replenish pantry staples: primarily interesting grains, flours, beans, lentils, and various rices from the bin section.

Then there are a sprinkling of less-frequent visits to specialty stores where I cherrypick wines, or cheeses, or artisanal sugars, special spice blends, offbeat oils, and vinegars.

While my everyday cooking is most often dictated by seasonal produce, I need to keep a supporting cast of ingredients on hand so I can put that produce to work in a variety of ways. I went into a lot of detail about the minutiae of individual ingredients (and some of their nutritional benefits) in Super Natural Cooking—specifically, how to build a natural foods pantry. Instead of repeating that here, I thought I’d open my cupboards, look to my shelves and fridge, and tell you about what you are likely to find in my kitchen on a day like today.

Before we get started, just a few notes. I’m not going to call out “organic” in every instance throughout this book. I suspect that would get tedious and turn off some of you. What I will say is that I care about supporting producers and farmers who are using sustainable farming methods. Many of them are certified organic; some of them aren’t certified, but are farming using organic practices. I read a report that more than 72,600 tonnes of pesticides were sprayed in California in 2008, a statistic I find heartbreaking. I know we can do better, and I try to vote for that change with my grocery dollars. I buy dairy products from farmers who pasture-graze their growth hormone-free cows and I purchase eggs from farmers who keep small flocks of free-range hens.

This is in part because I want to support the people providing these ingredients, and in part because I don’t want to be in a supermarket at some point without a choice in the matter.

OILS AND FATS I cook with a variety of oils and fats, and pick and choose which to use after considering a few things. Each fat and oil has its own flavour, scent, and mouthfeel—I think about how each of those elements might affect what I’m cooking. I look for cooking oils and fats made from good ingredients, which have been naturally pressed or produced without stripping them of their personality. Avoiding oils that have been processed with solvents, deodorisers, or heated to damaging temperatures is important. Then, once in my kitchen, I think about how each cooking oil stands up to heat differently, and take that into consideration, too.

I keep a few extra-virgin olive oils on hand. Of those, I typically have one that could be considered my day-to-day olive oil. I use this to sauté, roast, make sauces, and form the base of a variety of dressings and vinaigrettes. The other extra-virgin olive oils are more special (and costly), and I think about them as finishing oils. Some are spicy, some are grassy, but they’re all better enjoyed drizzled over soups, stews, or salads just before serving.

I like to cook and bake with butter, sometimes clarified, sometimes browned. You can make clarified butter yourself or buy it. Making it yourself is more economical. It has full, rich flavour and a substantially higher smoking point than olive oil. Certain curries really come to life when you use it to start things off, and you can combine it in a pan alongside olive oil to give the olive oil more range. I like to use brown butter in baking or for drizzling, as well as plain butter, both salted and unsalted.

Extra-virgin coconut oil is fun to experiment with, although its assertive coconut scent limits what I use it for. It’s great for baking, and you can sometimes replace all, or a portion, of the butter in a recipe with coconut oil. I use it in the early stages of some Thai-style curries, and in just about any cooking that has coconut milk in it.

I use little whispers of toasted sesame oil in my cooking, but it can be devastatingly overpowering. To say I’m judicious with it is an understatement.

Cold-pressed nut oils are nice to have on hand, particularly in the autumn and winter when the weather cools and heartier meals are in order. I look for cold-pressed, artisan pistachio nut oils, toasted pumpkin seed oils, hazelnut oils, as well as walnut oils. They should smell like an intense version of the nut or seed from which they were pressed. I don’t cook with the nut oils per se, but use them in various nut-based purees, dressings, and picadas. Gentle heat helps to release their scent, and they shine drizzled over dishes like warm farro salads and just-out-of-the oven casseroles. Buy nut oils in small quantities when you can, and store them in the refrigerator if they aren’t in high rotation in the kitchen. They tend to go rancid in a flash and are expensive to replace.

QUICK-COOKING GRAINS Quinoa, burghul, millet, and rolled oats are popular around here. There are other quick-cooking grains, but these are the ones I use most often. Wholemeal couscous, a tiny grain-shaped pasta, is great for quick salads and for stuffing vegetables such as tomatoes or zucchini (courgettes). You can find many of these, in organic versions, in the bin section of health food stores, and they tend to be very inexpensive.

LONGER-COOKING GRAINS I keep a range of wholegrain rices on hand, as well as farro, barley, wheat berries, and rye berries. I think many people miss out on cooking with the larger grains because of the perception that they take forever to cook. This is only partly true. If you plan ahead a bit, it’s nearly effortless. So, for example, I’ll cook up a pot of farro on a Sunday afternoon, use it in that night’s dinner, reserve some for use throughout the week, and freeze the rest. If you were to glance in my freezer, you’d find bags of frozen brown rice, farro, and wheat berries. I might use the wheat berries in a soup tonight, the brown rice in a stirfry tomorrow, and the farro in a tart filling sometime later in the week. Again, most of these are available, in organic versions, in the bin section and are inexpensive. Farro tends to be pricier, but well worth it.

FLOURS I counted twenty-two different flours at the natural food store the other day—a number that is both exciting and overwhelming. I use a small subset of those flours in my day-to-day cooking. I use a lot of wholemeal flour (if you can find it, I like to use wholemeal pastry flour) and spelt flour for baking. Both are capable of creating beautiful, tender baked goods. I do keep a bit of unbleached plain flour around because, as I’ve mentioned before, there are times, particularly in certain baked goods, when I’ve found that using a percentage of plain flour makes for a much better result. If I need a bit more structure and less tenderness from a dough, I use strong wholemeal flour, which is higher in gluten-forming protein—good for pizza dough and certain breads. Beyond that, I rotate through a number of what I consider supporting flours. I love rye flour for its rustic colour and subtle sweetness and quinoa flour for its nutritional profile and grassiness. I love to experiment with homemade wholegrain flour blends. For example, I use oat flour, rye flour, and wholemeal flour in my multigrain pancakes.

SWEETENERS I’ve come across dozens of sweeteners produced by small producers over the past few years. The thing I find striking is how no two are alike. The Japanese rock sugar I found in Tokyo couldn’t be more different from the golden-hued natural (unrefined) cane sugar I use regularly, which is moist with heavy notes of vanilla and molasses. The Pohutukawa honey I tasted in New Zealand is an entirely different beast from the dark, smoky mango blossom honey Big Tree Farms harvests in Java. I keep a rotation of various sugars, honeys, and syrups on hand, preferring the ones that are minimally refined. Compared to white sugar, their flavour profiles are more interesting, and they can impart a depth and complexity to a recipe you can’t get otherwise. In my sweetener collection right now is a number of honeys, brown rice syrup, a few bottles of maple syrup, numerous natural (unrefined) cane sugars, and unsulphured molasses.

There is a huge variety of granulated sugars available. They cover the colour spectrum from blinding white to deep coffee brown.

Broadly speaking, white sugars are more processed than dark—although there are certainly highly processed “false” brown sugars out there. Because there isn’t much standardisation with regard to labelling, finding a whole sugar can be confusing. Look for words like unrefined, raw, natural, and whole; seek out a fine grain (comparable to standard white or soft brown sugar); and opt for dark over light when it comes to colour.

The least processed and most whole granulated cane sugar available is dehydrated cane juice, but it often has an irregular consistency and dryness that keeps me from using it more often. My favourite substitute for white sugar is golden caster sugar, a fine-grain natural (unrefined) cane sugar that is minimally processed and fragrant; it’s a “real” brown sugar that tastes of vanilla with a deep kiss of molasses. I call for it in a number of the recipes in this book.

If you are having a hard time finding a comparable dark soft brown sugar, you can substitute any soft brown sugar or light muscovado sugar in these recipes. Just be sure to buy a fine-grain sugar and sift out any lumps. There are also lots of white sugars available that are labelled as natural cane sugar. These won’t break the recipes, but they won’t give you the exact results you are after, either. If you buy white sugar, look for a sustainably produced organic variety; there are a number that are widely distributed now.

NOODLES AND PASTA I pick up a variety of dried noodles when I’m out and about. I use buckwheat-based soba noodles quite often, and beyond that, a variety of Italian pastas. Tiny, rice-shaped wholemeal orzo is fun. If you don’t think using 100 per cent wholemeal pasta is going to fly with your family, try a 50/50 blend of regular and wholegrain pasta to begin with. It takes a bit of experimenting to find brands of wholegrain noodles that aren’t overly heavy or texturally “off”.

Despite labeling, some noodles are made with 100 per cent wholegrain flours; others are blends of wholegrain flours and wheat flour (not wholemeal flour). Make a note of the ones you like, and then taste your way through that family of noodles. You’ll get a sense over time of where on the wholegrain noodle spectrum you like to be.

LENTILS, SPLIT PEAS, AND THE LITTLEST BEANS I keep my pantry well stocked with a variety of lentils and split peas. They are relatively quick cooking, nutritious, protein-packed, and perfect for use in soups, stews, veggie burgers, dips, and salads. I have a particular fondness for yellow split peas, tiny black Beluga lentils, Puy (tiny bluegreen) lentils, and green split peas. All of these are pretty good about holding their shape as long as you don’t overcook them. I’m also going to throw mung beansin here. I use them quite a lot; and unlike the heirloom beans I talk about on Dried Beans, there is no need to soak them before cooking. Affordable, filling, bulging with protein, they provide a great backbone to any number of meals.

I store each type of dried pulse or bean in a separate large glass jar so I can see when I need to replenish the supply. Be sure to carefully pick over any lentils, beans, or grains before using them—little pebbles and dirt clots often can be found.

DRIED BEANS A quick glance in the cupboard directly to the right of my stove reveals bags of dried beans—lots of them. Roughly once a week I’ll put 500 grams of them in a large water-filled pot to soak overnight. When I have time the following day, I cook them while I’m doing other things around the house. The specifics are outlined on A Simple Pot of Beans. It couldn’t be simpler.

I like to get to know each individual type of bean, and when I’m trying a new one, I prepare it simply so I can acquaint myself with its unique flavour, texture, and personality. This helps me develop a sense of what I might do the next time to highlight the uniqueness of the bean. Some beans are thin-skinned, some are thick, some lend themselves to a pureed soup, while some are better whole. Or, as I mentioned in Super Natural Cooking, one bean might pair with an assertive stock or sauce, while another might be perfect on its own with a drizzling of olive oil and a dusting of grated cheese. I drain and freeze left-over beans, flat, in a plastic freezer bag once they’ve cooled. They can go straight from the freezer into a hot pan on a whim.

NUTS AND SEEDS A peek into the nuts and seed drawer in my refrigerator uncovers walnuts, hazelnuts, pepitas, sunflower seeds, pecans, poppy seeds, almonds, pine nuts, and both white and black sesame seeds. The flavours, the crunch factor, and the uses are endless.

I like to use them whole, chopped, pureed with other ingredients into sauces, or ground into nut flours for baking.

SPICES, SPICE BLENDS, AND MUSTARDS My spice drawer is the one section of my kitchen I’m powerless to keep under control. I keep a mad collection of curry powders and spice blends from various travels, as well as little jars of single herbs and spices. People always ask me if I have a favourite curry powder or brand, and the short answer is, there are many I like, but I’m loyal to none. Part of the fun is tasting through spices and various spice combinations, making note of what you like best.

While I like to make curry pastes from scratch on occasion, I also keep a variety of curry pastes in the refrigerator. They come in handy not only for on-the-fly curry pots, but also for boosts of flavour in everything from frittatas and scrambled eggs to asparagus or potato soup.

Edging out the curry pastes are the mustards, mainly dijon-style mustards—some I make (see Wholegrain Mustard), others I buy. You’ll see both smooth and wholegrain mustards get a lot of play in the recipes in this book.

SALT AND PEPPER You’ll likely notice I don’t automatically season every one of my recipes with salt and pepper. Occasionally, the black pepper is missing. I like black pepper in some preparations, particularly in egg dishes or as a way to counterbalance a savoury-sweet sauce—for example in the black pepper tempeh. But other times I find it can be overpowering, and sometimes even harsh. I tend to prefer chilli flakes or chilli powders in much, but not all, of my cooking. When you do use black pepper, be sure to freshly grind it.

SOY SAUCE, SHOYU, AND TAMARI Each of these ingredients brings rich, salty depth and umami to food. While much of the soy sauce you find is Chinese, I’ve come to enjoy Japanese variations of soy sauces, also known as shoyu. Shoyu is often more full-bodied than its Chinese counterparts, with a hint of sweetness. Tamari, another type of Japanese soy sauce worth seeking out, is more similar to Chinese soy sauce than shoyu. And wheat-free versions of tamari are available for people with wheat allergies.

Whether you are using shoyu, tamari, or soy sauce, look for naturally fermented versions made from whole ingredients using traditional methods. Chemically processed, fast-tracked soy sauce, often produced in a single day, is a harsh-tasting distant relative to the real thing.

INGREDIENTS IN TINS I always have tins of coconut milk on hand—rich, luscious, full-bodied, and flavourful. It’s an incredibly versatile ingredient I use when I want all those aforementioned qualities to carry over into a soup, curry, or something I’m baking. It’s also a great ingredient to explore if you (or those you’re cooking for) follow a vegan or dairy-free diet. The other tinned good I keep close at hand is crushed tomatoes. It’s good in certain curries, Italian sauces, tart fillings, and quick soups.

DAIRY I keep plenty of plain, unsweetened, full-fat yoghurt in the refrigerator—both regular and Greek style. I cook, bake, and make toppings with it. There is typically a small container of milk around, some homemade crème fraîche, my favourite locally produced cottage cheese, and a rotating cast of hard cheeses like parmesan or pecorino.

TEMPEH, TOFU, AND SEITAN (WHEAT GLUTEN) Not that these three ingredients are the same thing, but I actually group them together in my mind. They all pack a generous protein punch, have the ability to bulk out a meal, and can help turn a side dish into a main dish when appropriate. Each has rich cultural significance and has long been part of the foodways of various Asian cultures. I try not to think of them as meat substitutes, and instead attempt to understand each as an ingredient on its own terms. All three can be cooked using a variety of techniques—sautéing, grilling, baking, steaming. And by experimenting with the form of the ingredient—crumbled, sliced, cubed, diced, grated—you have a broad palette to explore. Both tempeh and tofu take well to assertive marinades.

As far as purchasing goes, I look for the simplest versions—those produced with organic ingredients and without added flavourings and GMOs. It’s worth noting, many tempehs are sold steamed now, cutting out the extra step called for in older tempeh recipes.

I love to use eggs from local farmers who allow their hens to roam around. The yolks are electric yellow, the flavour richer, and they’re known to be more nutritious and lower in cholesterol. The drawback?

Fresh eggs are difficult to peel. If I’m planning make an egg salad, I set aside some eggs for a few days to a week, but they rarely last that long.

VEGETABLE STOCK Truth be told, I rarely make my own stock anymore. I will make it for certain stock-centric soups, or for those times when I’m after a very specific flavour profile, but I don’t often make big pots of stock to freeze for later use. My guess is that many of you don’t either. Instead, I keep a few boxes of all-natural vegetable stock cubes on hand and, unapologetically, love them. I’m quite partial to the Rapunzel brand vegetable stock with sea salt—it dissolves into a clean, bright, herby green vegetable stock that complements many of the other ingredients I use. I use the salted version at about half strength—one cube to 1–1.2 litres water—to control the salt levels in my recipes. There is also a version without salt, which allows you to completely control how much salt you’re using.

You may not be able to get that particular brand where you live, but I’d encourage you to seek out one you do like. The other option, beyond making your own stock or using stock cubes, is buying stock that comes in a tin or carton. I have yet to find one that I like, and much prefer to use water. Water is completely fine in many cases, and it gives you the latitude to season a dish to your liking later in the cooking process. If you use a bad-tasting stock, you are going to have a hard time getting rid of any off flavours.

CHOCOLATE I rarely purchase chocolate chips anymore; I much prefer to hand-chop or shave bars of chocolate for use in cookies and cakes. I also use a good amount of unsweetened cocoa powder and good-quality chocolate when baking.

My kitchen spans six paces in one direction and four in the other. There is ample counter space and a refrigerator recessed into a deep alcove in the wall. When I stand at the stove, a door to my right opens onto a small porch, and on occasion the cat from upstairs will come down to visit, or a flashy, green-backed hummingbird will do a quick ballet in the doorway.

I do my best to keep a relatively minimalist kitchen, treating it more like a studio space than anything else, I suppose. I try to keep the counters clear and store ingredients in see-through containers in each cupboard so I can view, at a glance, what I have to work with.

Old often wins out over new in this realm, and most of my bowls, plates, and platters have been chosen at flea markets and yard sales. My flour sifter, food processor, wooden spoons, and pressure cooker are all hand-me-downs from my dad. There is something deeply satisfying to me in using baking trays coated with a dark patina derived from hundreds of batches of cookies, or cradling a bowl older than I am in the crook of my arm when making a cake mixture.

I nearly always choose glass over plastic and keep a large supply of jars on hand to store everything from lentils, flours, and rices to sauces, vinaigrettes, and leftovers. Buying things one piece at a time, each with a story of its own, is a great way to stock a kitchen.

Though this is not intended to be an all-inclusive discussion, I thought it might be helpful if I outlined some of the kitchen equipment I can’t imagine doing without.

POTS AND PANS Many people buy their pots and pans in sets. In the past, I’ve found I end up favouring one piece in the set and relegate the others to the back of a cupboard. Now I prefer to invest in good-quality, single pieces and have long since given away all of the pots and pans I rarely used. Here’s what I have (and use) now.

My 28 cm ovenproof stainless steel frying pan with lid is great for making everything from caramelised onions and frittatas to stir-fries and sautés. An extra-large Le Creuset casserole (Dutch oven) is great for soups and curries, cooking beans or rice, and baking casseroles. I use it on my stovetop and in the oven. A large pasta pot/stockpot takes up a lot of space, and I would get rid of it if it weren’t so useful, not only for making pasta, but also for boiling and steaming vegetables. It’s quite a bit deeper than the casserole. My small saucepan spends most of its working hours heating water for tea, but beyond that, I use it on occasion to heat stock or make sauce. Or, if I need to rig up a double boiler to melt chocolate, I’ll use it as the base.

I’ve done my best to phase out as much non-stick and plastic out of my kitchen as possible, in part because I’m concerned about increased exposure to chemicals leaching from those materials into my food. I prefer to use stainless steel, cast iron, or enamelled cast iron instead.

KNIVES, SPOONS, AND SPATULAS I use an Aritsugu brand santoku knife, which I bought while travelling through Kyoto, Japan. It’s the most serious culinary tool I own, and while it might sound odd, I find myself striving to cook well enough to honour this particular knife. It pains me at times because it isn’t stainless steel, so if I even glance at it wrong, it starts to rust. But it holds an edge longer than any other knife I’ve owned, and the blade makes quick work out of whatever I put beneath it. Aside from that, I use a serrated knife to cut bread. I keep a few chef’s knives on hand for when there are guest cooks in the kitchen. And related to knives, a cutting board that’s not too big and not too small is key. Too big, it is unwieldy to wash; too small, things are always tumbling off the sides. My 30 cm x 40 cm wooden cutting board suits me nicely.

Like many cooks, I have favourite battle-scarred wooden spoons, each nick and burn with a story to tell. I also get a lot of use out of a flat-edged wooden spatula. It allows me to scrape across a large surface area when I’m stirring risottos or curries, helping me to ensure nothing gets stuck to the base. It is also kind to my cast-iron pan. Alternatively, I use a strong,flat-edged metal spatula for much of my stainless steel frying pan work; it allows me to scrape all those browned crispy bits of flavour off the base of the pan. I reach for a rubber spatula quite often, too—to get the last of a batter out of a mixing bowl, or to empty the last drops of soup into a jar to enjoy at a later time.

APPLIANCES As far as appliances go, there are a small number that make my time in the kitchen more pleasurable. First in line is a stick blender; it makes quick work of pureeing soups. I use my standard blender so infrequently now that I moved it to the garage.

I use an electric stand mixer to whip egg whites and mix certain doughs. Then I have an ancient food processor for making certain pastes, purees, and tart pastry.

BAKEWARE I probably have more cake and tart tins than I need—cookie cutters, too. I seem to pick them up wherever I go, and when I travel. As far as the tins go, I have them in standard sizes, but because I like to serve cakes, breads, and tarts in their baking tins, I’m always on the lookout for ones that can do the job but that also have a certain amount of visual appeal—perhaps an offbeat shape or interesting patina.

I keep rimmed and unrimmed baking trays on hand. The rimmed trays come in handy when you are roasting an ingredient that gives off liquid; the walled edges prevent the liquid from running onto the floor of the oven. I occasionally place rimmed trays below items in the oven if I’m at all nervous about the possibility of an overflow. I line baking trays with unbleached baking paper when I’m concerned about sticking, and have a simple wire rack I use with cookies, muffins, scones, and the like when they come out of the oven.

FAVOURITE TOOLS There is nothing more helpful than a kitchen scale to make quick work of baking projects. It’s much quicker (and more accurate, particularly when baking) to weigh ingredients than measure by volume.

I use a small, heavy mortar and pestle to grind spices, crush salt, mash garlic, and to make various pastes.

I use my Microplane grater to shave chocolate, cheese, ginger, and a variety of fruits and vegetables.

I wish my salad spinner took up less space. It’s quite greedy in that regard; but when I need it, I really need it. Waterlogged lettuce will repel any oil-based dressing, resulting in puddles on plates instead of well-dressed salad greens. I occasionally use the spinner to dry herbs, spin the water off vegetables before roasting them in the oven, or spin extra moisture off beans or grains if I plan to freeze them.

Relegated to the straggler category, I love my cast-iron frying pan, the 33 cm-diameter professional crepe machine that my partner, Wayne, gave me for my birthday years ago, and the Simac gelato maker my dad bought on eBay a few years back. I have a mandolin that makes slicing paper-thin vegetables a breeze, and Japanese-style lunch boxes with reusable, multicompartment containers. They’re great for picnics because they allow you to keep components separate until the last minute. But truth be told, none of these get everyday use.

GLASSWARE AND PLATTERS While I’m not sure they count as culinary equipment, I appreciate nice wine glasses, so I keep a supply of those on hand with a range of sizes and shapes: flutes, white wine glasses, red wine glasses, or everyday table glasses. They don’t necessarily need to be fancy or expensive, just thoughtfully chosen. Opt for clear glass, not cloudy. Narrow silhouettes are for bubbles, and glasses with extra volume are nice so you can swirl your whites and reds. Aside from the practical aspects, some glasses just fit better than others in the hand. Some are tall, stretching for the ceiling; others huddle low and close to the table. These are all considerations that are more of a personal preference than anything else.

And finally, I keep a mishmash of mixing bowls and serving platters on hand; you can see a range of them in the photos in this book. Most are some shade of off-white. And come to think of it, quite a number of them have some sort of detail or pattern adorning them. I often plate food on large platters to share, and always scan my stacks of plates and platters for just the right one. I look for vessels with the appropriate size, shape, and personality. That means pieces that are not too big and not too small, with details that compliment the colours and textures of the ingredients. The right plate can make the food you’ve prepared look beautiful without requiring much extra effort on your part.

Much of my culinary success (or failure) is connected to decisions I make before entering the kitchen. The single most important variable is finding great ingredients with which to start. This doesn’t necessarily mean expensive, it just means great. Look for fresh, bright, vibrant ingredients and go from there. If you know you’re likely to find beautiful asparagus on your next shopping run, plan for that, but don’t be afraid to mix things up a bit if it’s the baby carrots that catch your eye.

I look for fruits and vegetables that have “the glow”—you’ll know it when you see it. I know it sounds a bit precious, but it’s not. It’s simply the combination of good colour, texture, and the sense that the ingredient was well tended and very recently picked. I see that glow in swatches of wildflowers when we go hiking sometimes—lively, at attention, proud. That’s what I look for in the foods that I buy. I’ll have a taste to confirm the flavour, and then go about building a meal (or meals) around it.

Simply put, if you cook with in-season ingredients, preferably locally grown, and seek out ones marked organic—or, at the very least, avoid those that have been grown “conventionally” with lots of herbicides, fungicides, and insecticides—you’ll be well on your way to a great meal. And, as you’ll see once you get into the recipes, many of them are easily adapted to whatever is available and looks best at your local market. Buy the best ingredients you can afford, and start there.

Another tip, and I know this sounds obvious, be mindful of the weather. A hot, hearty soup on a sweltering day is the culinary equivalent of pulling on wool socks and a heavy coat. Opt for something lighter and cooler. On a cold day, you’ll likely crave just the opposite.

USE YOUR SENSES Cooking is not just about tastebuds. I try to put all my senses to work throughout the culinary process, whether I’m shopping for peaches or baking a tart. Your eyes will see the mouldy berries in a basket; your ears will hear the violent pops and hisses when you add ingredients to overheated oil in a frying pan; your nose will smell the rich, nutty scent of butter as it begins to brown; and your fingertips will feel the soft, moist centres of muffins that need more baking time.

TRUST YOURSELF While I’ve done my best to give you accurate cooking times and ingredient measurements with this collection of recipes, in the end, the recipes are written to my tastes, not yours. Don’t follow them blindly. If you’re roasting cherry tomatoes in the oven and you feel a few extra minutes will do them some good, go for it. If you like a spicier curry sauce, feel free to add more curry paste. If you like your salad dressing with a bit more edge, add more lemon juice or vinegar, one splash at a time. Even the best recipe writers are using different produce and ingredients than you, different pans, a different oven—just about every element in cooking is variable. It’s the nature of the beast. As I’ve become a better cook over the years, I’ve learned a lot. The most valuable lesson? Trust my own instincts, trust my own tastebuds. With cooking, like any other skill, you learn by doing, with your instincts growing sharper and more refined over time.

That means if I happen to use blueberries in a recipe, but blackberries are in season at your local market, they would likely make a reasonable substitute. If I call for pumpkin, and you have sweet potatoes on hand, consider using them instead.

The one place I would encourage you to be more conservative with substitutions is when it comes to baking—trading one flour for another or cutting back on one ingredient and increasing another can yield disappointing results. In many of the recipes, I call out favourite substitutions, ones that I know work well.

CHECK YOUR OVEN TEMPERATURE If you’ve been frustrated by baking in the past, you might want to check the accuracy of your oven. You can purchase a simple, freestanding oven thermometer for a few dollars. You’ll know exactly how hot your oven is; and if your oven is consistently running hot or cold, you can have it adjusted.

USE FRESH BAKING POWDER AND BICARBONATE OF SODA For successful baking, second in importance to checking your oven temperature is making sure your baking powder and soda aren’t past their prime. Replace them regularly, roughly every six months. To see if your baking powder or bicarbonate of soda is still active, add lemon juice to a little bicarbonate of soda or hot water to a spoonful of baking powder. If they bubble and fizz, you’re in good shape. Also, look for aluminium-free baking powder to avoid ingesting aluminium and side-step that metallic taste that some baking powders impart.

USE YOUR FREEZER I’ve started to use my freezer more enthusiastically in the past few years. I freeze all sorts of seasonal fruits, soups, cooked beans, tart shells, cooked grains, and pastry. It can be one of your strongest allies when it comes time to turn out a great-tasting, last-minute meal in a reasonable amount of time.

MEASURE FLOURS CAREFULLY When I call for flour in a recipe, it means measured without first sifting. Spoon the flour into a bowl but don’t compact the flour. If your flour has been compacted at the base of the bag or canister, be sure to fluff it up a bit before measuring.