I found this recipe last summer in the newspaper. I gather it's an adaptation of a recipe that originally appeared in a cookbook called Mediterranean: Hot and Spicy.

I'm here to tell you: this falls into the seriously-good category. I've made it many times since, winter and summer.

Make sure you start with good ingredients: ie, use real Romano and good olive oil (if you go that route rather than using lard.) (Which, frankly, I think you should: the butter adds a lovely rich dimension.)

 Add some sausage or proscuitto or olives or basil or whatever. It's GOOD. It tastes great warm or cold. Make it for parties. Make it when you're sad. Make it for someone you love. Just make it.

One note: as with any pastry, don't overbake it. The crust is definitely best when it's chewy rather than crispy. (I speak from experience.) I've never tried it with lard; I've only used butter-olive-oil substitution.

If you want to eat it warmed as leftovers, put it on a wire rack, put it in a warm oven (maybe 325), and leave it about fifteen minutes. Even better the second time around!

So. Whaddya waiting for? Go make some of this stuff. You won't be sorry.

• 2.5 c. flour
• 1.5 c. grated romano
• 1/2 to 1 t. pepper
• 4 oz. lard OR 1/4 c. olive oil and 1/4 c. butter
• 1/4 c. white wine (or more if needed)
• 2 eggs, lightly beaten

TOPPING:

• 3 pints cherry tomatoes
• 2 or 3 jalapeno or anaheim chilies, seeded and chopped
• one egg, beaten with a splash of water
• finishing salt

The first time I made this, I didn't have three pints of cherry tomatoes. I had one pint of those, plus a few Santa tomatoes  and a couple of plain-Jane slicers. I used all three.

I've probably spelled proscuitto wrong. Anyway. It's summer, I'm tired. What to do for dinner? This:

Julienned some proscuitto. Chopped a handful of basil. Cut up some tiny tomatoes. Grated some parmesan cheese.

Put on a pot of water to boil for the pasta. (I used the long fusilli stuff, the name of which escapes me.) When the water had boiled, I added the pasta.

As it cooked, I heated some olive oil in another pan. When the oil was medium hot, I added the proscuitto and cooked it until crisp. Took it from the pan and let it drain slightly on a paper towel. (I know: shameful to use a paper towel. I don't do it often).

When the pasta was cooked, I tonged it into the pan with the olive oil and tossed it gently. Added the meat, tossed gently again. Added the tomatoes and basil. Tossed again. Added the cheese. Another light toss.

Into two bowls. Put those on the table along with a bowl of cantelope and one of cherries. Poured the wine. Relished the moment.

"Minestrone" being a fancy, furrin word for "vegetable soup."

Every year about this time I make up a large pot of it. I portion it into containers and freeze it and then it's ready to during the year-end rush when we usually have family around. (This year the family doesn't get any: I'm stocking the freezer in preparation for the kitchen remodeling that will start the second week in January. Although "stuffing the freezer" is more like it; I'm filling every inch with enough food to last the three months with no kitchen.)

I don't know where I got this recipe. I think it orginally came from Gourmet magazine, but I'm not sure. In any case, I've been making this for about twenty years and it never fails to satisfy.

As always with a dish like this, the quantities and components are up to the cook. For example, I can't find good cannellini, and am too lazy to cook dried ones, so I used canned navy beans. I rarely remember to add the pesto (although it's a marvelous addition if you can remember). Etc.

At our house, this makes 12 servings, but we're old and eat small portions.

• 1 c. chopped onion
• 1 c. chopped carrot
• 1 c. chopped celery
• 1/2 c. chopped leek
• 1 or 2 cloves of garlic, minced
• 3 T. butter
• 3 T. olive oil
• 8 c. beef stock
• 35 oz. canned tomatoes, with juice
• 2 c. diced potato
• 2 cans navy or cannellini beans, drained
• 1/2 c. peas
• 2.5 c. zucchini, chopped
• 2.5 c. green beans cut into bite-size pieces
• 2.5 c. peeled, cubed eggplant
• 2 c. mushrooms, sliced thick
• 4 c. shredded cabbage
• 2 c. shredded spinach (frozen is fine)
• 1/2 c. small pasta (I usually use orzo)
• 3 T. chopped parsley
• 2 T. pesto
• a piece of parmesan rind

You need a large pot; I use my stock pot. Heat the butter and olive oil and add the onion, carrot, celery, leek, and garlic. Cover with a piece of wax paper and then cover the pot and sweat the vegetables for ten minutes.

Remove the wax paper (please!) and add the stock, tomatoes and their juice, potato, beans, peas, zucchini, eggplant, green beans, peas, and mushrooms, as well as salt and pepper. If you don't have any pesto, toss in a handful of basil. Bring to a boil and then simmer for two hours (or whatever).

Stir in the cabbage, spinach, pesto, pasta, and cheese rind. Simmer another 30 or 40 minutes. Add the pesto and taste for salt and pepper.

Slice the bread, pour the wine. Be happy!

Tonight I planned to make risotto with spinach and porcini mushrooms. But husband came home and announced he was going to an evening event and had to leave early. Okay. No problem. Had a crap day and wanted to relax with the risotto, but truly, no problem. (Because why make a bad day worse?)

Made this instead. Think of it as a fake pasta carbonara. (In this case inspired by a recipe from Lynn Rossetto Kaspar's Italian Country Table

• 1 box frozen spinach
• a bit of diced red onion
• a bit of chopped garlic
• a quarter cup or so of grated romano and parmesan cheeses
• 2 eggs
• pasta (I used fusilli) (or however that's spelled)

I put on a pot of water to boil. Thawed the spinach in the microwave (isn't modern life amazing?). (Am not sure what's more amazing: the convenience of frozen spinach or the microwave.)

While I waited for the water to boil, I put the eggs, most of the cheese, and some salt and pepper in a bowl and mixed it with a fork. I heated some olive oil in a saute pan and added the onion and garlic. After about two minutes, I added the spinach and some salt, pepper, and dried pepper flakes and cooked it over medium-low heat for five or six minutes.

When the pasta was done, I tossed a quarter cup or so of its water in with the spinach and cooked it a minute. Added the pasta and tossed. Then added the eggs and cheese mixture and tossed gently and cooked it for a couple of minutes, just enough to cook the eggs.

Dished it up in a couple of bowls, sprinkled the rest of the cheese over it, poured some Shiraz. And the day's woes vanished. As did my husband not long after. Leaving me with the dishes. Hey! Life's not perfect.

It's November 1. (Or will be by the time you read this.) You're seriously overdosed on shitty candy. The antidote? Soup. No doubt there are bazillions of versions of this dish out there, because this is an obvious combination of foods. This particular version is what came out of my brain and cupboard one night.

Serve it with this: Slice a baguette lengthwise. Spread both pieces with salted butter. Set under the broiler for six minutes. Ohhhhhh.....

• 1/2 pound of boneless chicken
• 1 c. barley (the real stuff; not that boxed instant crap)
• 1 small onion
• a couple of carrots
• a couple of celery stalks
• one bunch of chard
• can of chopped tomatoes
• can of white beans (cannilini or navy) (or whatever) (No, I have no idea how to spell cannilini) (Canillini?)
• a half cup or so of grated parmesan

Fill a saucepan with four or five cups of water and heat to boil. Add the barley and cook until done to your preference. (I like mine a bit chewy, which takes about 25 minutes.) When it's finished, drain the barley, reserving the water.

Put the chicken in a soup pot, add water to cover, boil, and then turn heat to a simmer. Cook for, I dunno, twenty minutes or so? Until the chicken is done. Remove the chicken and reserve the water. (You're going to use the barley and chicken water as the soup base.)

While that's happening, remove the stems from the chard. Chop those and set aside. Roll the chard leaves into bundles and slice them. Chop the onion, celery, and carrots, setting the onion aside so you can cook it first. To the soup pot, add a quarter or so of olive oil and the onion. Cook on medium till onion is golden brown. Add the carrot, celery, and chard stems. Cook five or six minutes.

While that's underway, turn to the chicken, which should be cool by now. Cut it into spoon-sized bits. Add the can of tomatoes to the soup pot; cook another five or six minutes. Add the chard to the pot. Cover the pan, and cook seven, eight minutes; until the chard is cooked down. To the pot add the beans, barley, chicken, and some of the barley-chicken liquid. How much liquid? I don't know. Four cups? You want the soup to have some body, so don't get carried away.

Add some salt and pepper. Let it cook on medium-low heat for a half hour or so. Pour the wine. Sprinkle some of the cheese on your soup. Enjoy. Your brain will forget all that sugar.

Tonight in the kitchen: It's the end of the month, so food's running low in our house. Translation: time to rummage through the cupboards, refrigerator, and freezer to see what I can find. 'Cause I'm sure as hell not going to the grocery store. Here's what I found tonight:

• can of black beans
• a lovely summer squash (a friend brought some over the other day)
• a half jar of salsa
• red onion
• a couple of slightly desiccated green peppers
• garlic
• some decobbed corn (out of the freezer)
• some corn tortillas (also in the freezer) and some flour tortillas

I cut quartered the squash horizontally and then sliced those pieces. Minced a quarter cup or so of the red onion. Minced a clove of garlic. Chopped the green pepper. Drained and rinsed the can of beans.

Heated some oil (canola in this case) in a deepish pan. Added the squash and cooked it for six or seven minutes. Added the green pepper; cooked that a few minutes. Ditto the onion. Ditto the garlic. Added the beans, salsa, and corn. Cooked it over medium-low heat for about fifteen  minutes.

Turned the heat off. Covered it; let it sit. In another pan, I heated more oil (maybe a half inch or so in the ten-inch pan). Let it get hot.

While it heated, I cut the tortillas into wedges. When the oil was hot, I added three or four of the wedges at a time. It only takes a few seconds to cook them, so pay heed. T

hat's it. We had dinner tonight; we'll eat the rest of it Friday night. NOTE: Frying tortillas is no big deal, and certainly cheaper (and better tasting) than buying them.

There's only one "trick" to it: the oil must be hot. By hot, I mean turn the heat up high and let the pan sit on the heat for six to seven minutes. Yes, six to seven minutes. That's using gas. Electric might be faster. But test a wedge before you start loading the pan. The wedge should sizzle instantly and it should only take about fifteen seconds to cook. Then use your tongs to flip it to the other side. Cook for about five seconds.

The oil is HOT. You don't want small kids or babies anywhere near it. Okay?

Enjoy!

More from life in my kitchen.

Risotto has a bad rap here in the U.S.: The Foodies treat it like it's some exotic gourmet trip, hard to make, requires Ultra-Foodie skills, etc.

Folks, it's peasant food, for fuck's sake. And I mean that in the best sense of the word. It's a way to cook inexpensive starch with whatever else happens to be at hand.

The only "trick" to risotto is that yes, it works best with certain kinds of rice. Conventional "white" Asian rice doesn't cut it.

The only other advice I'd give is: One, don't rush it. It should take about 20 minutes. And two, take it off the heat before you think you should.

Anyway, we had risotto tonight, and here's what I had and did: I cut a zucchini in half and then quartered one of the two pieces and then chopped that sort of fine. (I planned to cook it only in the risotto itself, so I didn't want huge pieces.)

Then I used a vegetable peeler to create some fine, narrow ribbons with the other half. (I wanted a mixture of textures.) I had some tiny "cherry" tomatoes on hand, so I quartered those. I chopped up a few sprigs of basil. Minced a bit of onion and a tiny bit of garlic. (Go easy on the garlic or it WILL take over the dish.)

Grated a bit of parmesan.

I heated about three cups of chicken stock. Put some olive oil in a ten-inch saute pan. When the oil was medium hot, I added the onion and cooked it a few minutes. I added a generous cup of arborio rice and the garlic and stirred that over the heat a few minutes.

I added a cup or so of stock and began cooking the rice.

This, I think, is where people lose track of what's going on. All you're doing is using the stock to cook the rice. This is not rocket science or brain surgery or Wall Street bailouts. You're cooking rice. Slowly. Over medium heat. Stirring it once in awhile.

When the rice has absorbed most of the liquid, add some more hot stock. Repeat the cook/stir process. Throw in some salt and pepper. When you're down to your last two hits of stock, add the zucchini. Cook and stir.

Again, you're allowing the heat of the stock to cook the zuke. Not rocket science. Although I will say that at this point, you should use a large fork to "stir" the rice, so that you can separate the grains and the zuke.

No large forks, you say? Whatsamatterwit you? Okay, use two or three chopsticks as stirring tools.

When you're down to the last hit of stock (you're tasting a few grains once in awhile, right? To check for doneness?), add the basil and the tomatoes and toss. Gently.

Add the parmesan and a couple of tablespoons of butter and toss gently.

While there's still plenty of liquid, turn off the flame or move the pan off the burner. The accumulated heat in the pan will keep things cooking. You want a creamy consistency at the end.

Then I put the rice into two bowls, set a large bowl of cherries on the table (finally! The cherries have arrived!!) and poured some white wine. And proceeded to stuff myself with rice and cherries. Oy. Life does not get much better than this.

Sometimes a girl doesn't wanna cook much, ya know? Especially this girl when she's been cranking away on her new book all day and both the temperature and the humidity begin with a nine. (Yes, we have AC --- but still . . . ) (Plus, those menopause hot flashes are waaaaaaay worse in the summer than in the winter.)

So here's what landed on our table tonight. Think of this as heat + humidity + tired +don't want to go to grocery store + it's summer:

Heated a  big pot of water for the pasta. In the frig I found some little "grape" tomatoes and quartered those. Minced a teensy bit of garlic.

Chopped a handful of fresh basil. Put all of it in a small bowl and drizzled just a bit of olive oil over it. Grated some parmesan.

Sliced a chicken breast horizontally; dressed it with some salt and pepper.

Cut up some watermelon and put it in a bowl.

While the pasta boiled (I used bucattini), I heated some olive oil in a pan and seared the chicken breasts. Moved that to our plates after it was cooked.

When the pasta was done, I saved out a bit of the water and then drained the pasta. Put it back in the pot and added the tomatoes, garlic, and basil, as well as a bit of olive oil and salt/pepper. Tossed it gently.

Dished the pasta on to our plates. Put the plates at our places, the watermelon on the table, along with a little bowl of extra parmesan.

Poured some white wine. Ate. Enjoyed. Happy.

In my kitchen: Muffins. They're easy to make; easy to freeze; easy to eat. These are good for late afternoon snacking and that mid-morning sugar/carb crash.

I think I got the base of this recipe from a runners' magazine (way back when, before my knees and back conked out, I ran. A lot. Now I walk. A lot. And swim. And other things.)

But I lost the original copy of the recipe, and re-created what I could remember from memory, and then added and subtracted as my tongue dictated.

These are not like those icky things you find in airports. (You know: those objects that taste like air and cost like a mortgage). Save your money.

Take a couple of these along next time you travel, and the righteous virtue will ooze from every pore.

The recipe makes about two dozen muffins. I stash 'em in the freezer, and thaw (which doesn't take long) as needed.

• 2 eggs
• 3 mashed bananas (one large or two medium)
• 2/3 canola oil (or corn or vegetable oil)
• 1/2 c. molasses
• 1/2 c. yogurt
• 1-1/2 c. whole wheat pastry flour (or regular wheat flour if that’s what you have)
• 1-1/2 c. bran flakes OR wheat germ
• 1 c. chopped walnuts (optional)
• 1 c. or so of chocolate chips (optional) (but let's be honest: without them, what’s the point?)
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
• 1 teaspoon baking powder
• 1 teaspoon cinnamon

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Grease the muffin tin.

Mash the bananas, or, if you’re using a mixer, use the beaters to mash them. Add the egg and mix. Add the oil, molasses, and yogurt and mix well.

In another bowl, use a fork or sifter to thoroughly mix the flour, bran (or wheat germ), walnuts, baking powder, baking soda, and cinnamon. Add dry ingredients to the mixing bowl and stir until combined. Stir in the chocolate chips.

Use a big spoon to drop the batter into the muffin cups. Bake 18-20 minutes and cool on a wire rack.

And for this edition of  In the Kitchen, and speaking of Tony Comstock (which I just did): A week or so ago he tweeted (canNOT believe I'm using that verb...) that his wife, Peggy, was making soup with sweet potato, parsnip, and chicken.

Sounded good to me! So I emailed her to ask for the recipe. Turns out she's also a "Hmmm... what's in the frig?" cook -- and the "recipe" consisted of cooking what was on hand. I made the soup last night. Deeeeeeeeeelicious.

It's a "thin" soup --- consomme-like --- so I decided to round it out with a bit of broiled baguette: Slice a baguette horizontally, butter it, and put it under the flame for about three minutes. The salt in the butter turns ordinary into exquisite. (Assuming, of course, you started with a good baguette.)

Anyway, herewith my version of Peggy's soup, which essentially follows her lead. As always, quantities are up to you:

• one parsnip, peeled and chunked
• one sweet potato, peeled and chunked
• half an onion, minced
• a couple of cloves of garlic (smash 'em if you want to; otherwise just peel and toss into pot)
• a half pound boneless, skinless chicken breast, cut in bite-size pieces
• a box of frozen spinach, thawed
• 2-3 c. of chicken stock/broth
• big splash of white wine
• salt, pepper

Put everything in a pot. Turn on flame. Cook slowly for an hour or so. Broil that buttered baguette. Pour the wine. Enjoy!

I have no idea where or when I originally found the basis of this recipe. It's evolved over the years and I think it's the result of cobbling together two separate recipes. You could leave out the chicken, or substitute firm tofu, or, as I sometimes do, use both chicken and tofu. (A little protein overdose never hurt anyone.) This is incredibly good as leftovers. Amazing how often I hear its voice in my refrigerator saying "Have a spoonful of me! Just one spoonful!"

• 2 T. vegetable oil
• 2. T. ghee or butter
• 4 peppercorns
• 4 whole cloves
• to taste: cayenne, fennel seeds, whole cardamom, garam masala*
• 2 onions, diced
• generous tablespoon of diced ginger
• 1 T. tomato paste
• 3-4 cloves of garlic, minced
• 1/2 boneless skinless chicken breast, but in half-inch pieces
• 1 box frozen spinach, thawed (obviously use fresh if you prefer)
• 1/4 c. yogurt

_______________

I cook this in my ancient Atlas wok (one of those 20-pound steel monsters with the wooden handle), but you can use any kind of large pan.

Heat oil until very hot. Add the ghee or butter. If you use butter, pay heed. It will start to foam and brown almost instantly. That's the point of using ghee (which I never do): it has a higher "burn" temperature than butter.

Add the spices and stir for about 30 seconds.  Add the onion and ginger. Cook these slowly over medium heat for about 15 minutes until the onion is caramelized. (It will seem like too much onion, and too long a cooking time. Trust me, it's not and it's not. The onions are what give this dish its body.)

Add the garlic and cook a minute or two. Add the tomato paste and stir and cook a few minutes.  Add the chicken and cook five or six minutes.  Add the spinach, and salt and pepper. Toss with a large fork to mix. Cook another three or four minutes.  

Add the yogurt and a bit of water. Cover and cook for 15 or 20 minutes (or whatever). Toward the end, I usually take the lid off and cook several minutes to let some of the liquid evaporate.

* I make my own garam masala. You can find a recipe anywhere. But you can also buy it ready-made.

I originally found this recipe in the newspaper -- it was an AP piece. I made it once, decided it had possibilities, and then fiddled with the recipe. My version is better (or so I think).

One note: I usually make this as muffins, but one of these days I'm going to try simply baking it in a dish instead. That would eliminate the hassle of washing the muffin tins. I freeze these and then thaw them on the counter or in microwave (about 30 seconds.)

With a piece of fruit, makes a great lunch or breakfast. (They're filling!)

• 3 cups flour (swap a cup of whole wheat for white if you want to)
• 1 T. baking powder
• 1/2 t. baking soda
• 1/2 t. salt
• cayenne pepper to taste
• 2 large eggs
• 1-1/3 c. buttermilk
• 2 T. canola oil
• 4 T. butter, melted
• 1/3 c. minced scallion
• 4-5 slices bacon
• 1 c. grated cheese; use whatever you want. Maytag Cheddar is especially yummy!
• 1/2 c. diced green pepper

_________

Oven to 400 degrees. Grease the muffin cups or baking dish.

Fry the bacon until quite crisp (so you can crumble it into bite-size bits)  In a large bowl, whisk together the dry ingredients  In a medium bowl, whisk together the eggs, buttermilk, and oil. If the melted butter is still hot, stir in a couple of spoonfuls of this mixture to temper its heat. (Otherwise the hot butter will curdle the milk.)

Then add the butter to the rest of the wet ingredients.  Stir the scallions, cheese, bacon, and green pepper into the wet ingredients. I recommend using a large fork so you can separate and mix these bits into the liquid.

 Add wet ingredients to dry, using a spatula or wooden spoon to mix until just moistened.

Spoon the batter into the muffin tins (they will be full) or baking dish.  Bake until the tops are browned, 20-25 minutes. Let cool for 10 or 15 minutes. Loosen edges with knife and remove.

This falls into the category of: "I don't feel much like cooking, but have perishables that I need to use or lose and what can I find to go with them?"

The perishables were bok choy and several mushrooms. Rummaged in freezer and found some pancetta. Rummaged further in fridge and found a couple of slices of bacon about to go off.

Proceeded from there.

Pasta with Bok Choy and Mushrooms --

• Head of bok choy, sliced coarse 
• three or four portabellos (definitely not my favorite, but there they were), chopped coarse 
• couple of garlic cloves, minced 
• half dozen or so Kalamata olives, pitted and chopped 
• can of diced tomatoes (opened) 
• a couple of chunks of pancetta, mostly the butt end 
• a couple of slices of bacon

I chopped the pancetta into several largish chunks and put them in a large pan with some olive oil and began rendering the meat. I wanted from the pancetta was the fat and flavor, not what little pork was actually in the pieces. After five or six minutes, I added the pieces of bacon. Let all of it cook. Again, what I wanted was the fat/flavor.

When sufficiently seared and rendered, I removed the meat and to that lovely pork fat, added a bit of olive oil (unlike the truly obnoxious Rachael, I use "non-virgin" olive oil when cooking. Cheaper and more flavorful).

Then I sauteed the mushrooms. I have a small pan (only ten inches in diameter), so I cooked them in two batches. Added the bok choy, tossed it around on high heat for several minutes to flavor and sear the bok.

Put the lid on the pan and cooked all of it for about five minutes (to reduce the bok to a manageable size).

Then I added the tomatoes, olives, and garlic, plus salt and pepper. Put the lid back on and cooked it on low for twenty or so minutes

. Let it sit. Put the pasta water on. While we had a drink, I added the pasta to the water (I used fussilli.) (*1)

Removed the lid from the bok-and-mushrooms and turned up the heat a bit. (I wanted to reduce the sauce.)

While that was happening, I looked at the pancetta and realized there was a bit of meat to be had. So I sliced it very thin. Paper thin. While the pasta cooked, I put the pancetta into the sauce and let it all meld.

When the pasta was ready, I added it and some of the pasta water to the sauce, and tossed and cooked all of it over medium heat.

Poured the wine. And we ate. Problem of perishables-about-to-go-bad solved.

__________________

*1: Do yourself a favor: eat good pasta. That Barilla shit is, well, shit. I buy Rustichella. Expensive? Yes. Worth it? Hell, yes!

See? I wasn't kidding about the basic food part. I am a fan of breakfast. Breakfast is a Very Big Deal. I've got a wonky insulin/blood sugar system, and if I don't eat a lot of food first thing in the morning, well . . . it's not pretty.

So, I eat maybe, I dunno, half? my day's calories at breakfast. Nuthin' I like better than two over medium, corned beef hash, hash browns with jalapenos, some toast. A little tea. (And if there were someplace nearby to get such a vision of bliss, I'd probably go there at least once a week, screw the expense. Sadly, the nearest good diner is 40 miles away, soooo........)

Anyway, one of my favorite breakfast (and even lunch) foods is porridge, especially like this one from Culinate. ("Porridge," by the way, is a high-falutin' way of saying "hot cereal.")

This is seriously good eats. It's also relatively inexpensive: assuming you buy the grains from the bulk section of your local "health" food store, they'll cost you about five, six dollars, and you'll get 12-15 servings, so it's great value. (And a helluva lot less expensive than those boxed whole-grain cereals, like Arrowhead.)

I've made it many times, and here's my advice:

1. It definitely needs salt (which the original recipe does not call for.) I'd say a good tablespoon or so.

2. Feel free to fiddle with the mix of grains. I love millet, so I usually add that.

3. Make sure to mix the salt and cinnamon into the grains before adding the water.

4. I don't own a slow cooker (I'm not even sure what that is), so I just put everything in a big pot, add the water, put it on the stove, turn the heat to "1" (with 9 being high flame and 1 being low), and set a timer for two hours. Do check it after a couple of hours! It may already be done. (Mine usually takes about two to three hours.)

5. If you feel the grains are cooked, but there's still water, don't worry. The grains will continue to absorb water even after you've turned off the heat. So if you like "runny" porridge, don't let all the water cook away!

6. This makes a lot of porridge: maybe 12-15 servings (depend on the size of your appetite). I can't eat all of it before it starts fermenting, so I just portion it out into containers and stick it in the fridge.

In my (apparently) never-ending attempt to provide maximum bang for your reading buck, I'm launching -- you guessed it, didn't you? -- another series: In the Kitchen.

I taught myself to cook when I was in my twenties and have been wielding a knife and standing at the stove ever since.(*1)

Two reasons why I learned how to cook: 1. I loved food. 2. I had no money.

Again, I was in my twenties, it was the early 1970s (can you say "inflation"?), I had no skills, and lived more-or-less hand-to-mouth, working at low-wage jobs. It followed, therefore, that if I wanted good food, I had to learn to buy and prepare it. Going out to eat was not an option. Poverty shaped how and what I cooked: I had to figure out how to stretch what few dollars I had, AND eat food that was nutritious.

Thirty years later, my taste in food (no pun intended) hasn't changed much: I still focus on basic food. Real food. But ease and convenience also matter: My husband and I go out to eat maybe ... three? four? times a year, so I cook the food we eat. (No "year" is not a typo.) (*2)

But I also work long hours, and don't always want to spend a lot of time in the kitchen, so I'm big on leftovers, and on dishes survive well in the freezer. (Smartest thing I ever did was convince husband to buy a small freezer. Bliss!) So, this series is focuses on what's cooking.

And yes, I have an ulterior motive: Perhaps some of you will share some of your kitchen creativity. After 30 years, I've got a repertoire, but everyone's repertoire can benefit from the occasional kick in the ass.

Two final points: If it's gourmet you're after, well, this ain't the place. My food is basic. Rice and beans? Love 'em. Last point: My offerings aren't necessarily original, so whenever possible, I'll provide the original source of the recipe, along with the tweaks that I've added to it.

_____________________

*1: I grew up in a household where I was expected to do lots and lots of household work, but for whatever reason, that work did not involve food preparation. Washing dishes? You bet. Weeding the garden? Oh, yeah. Dusting, cleaning, etc. I'm a pro. But no cooking. When I was 18, I had no idea how to cook an egg.

*2: As far as I'm concerned, most of the time, it's more trouble than it's worth to go out to eat: You gotta figure out where to go, then go there, then wait for a table, then wait for someone to take the order, then wait for the food. Etc. It's just easier to eat at home. And of course, it's considerably less expensive to eat at home. True, I live in a small town and there's not much to choose from, restaurant-wise.

Now if there were a decent place to eat breakfast, that would be a different matter. I'd probably take myself and my morning papers there once a week. But there's not, so I don't, and we eat nearly every meal at home and that means I cook. Which, I should add, I enjoy doing. I wouldn't want to cook for six people three times a day, but I do enjoy my time in the kitchen.