DOORWAYS IN THE CALENDAR

PLUS AN ENDIVE-MUSHROOM CASSEROLE AND OTHER EXPLORATIONS

I landed in Chiang Mai two days ago, on Wednesday, January the 14^th. I’ve been able to fly here on or near this date many times. It’s a loaded date for me, full of love and pain

January 14 is the anniversary of my father’s death long ago, in 1969. He was only forty-eight. And now, this year, it marks exactly eight weeks since Tashi’s death on November 14. These dates are part of the architecture of my year, along with the birthdays of people dear to me, other death dates, a few historic events, the solar calendar markers of solstice and equinox twice a year, and the lunar markers of new and full moon. I think of them as archways or doors, entryways into awareness. They remind me of things beyond my immediate present; they give me an expanded view, wider and deeper than my day to day. In some ways they’re tools for navigation as I walk forward, carrying precious pieces of the past with me like household gods.

Some of my friends find it strange that I keep a detailed architecture of the year in my head. But I don’t know how, without it, I’d know where I am, or in some ways who I am. It’s not a dreary filing cabinet of facts. Instead the year is a dynamic landscape of days and months, embroidered with all kinds of life.

Perhaps this resonates with you…

I’ve been thinking about the ways in which this place, Substack, has been very freeing for me. The subject is on my mind because in the last few weeks I’ve had a number of conversations about it with friends who are thinking about whether they’d like to embark. I like being free of the constraints of writing books. Here I can write about food in many ways. And if I describe a process or a dish, I don’t need to make a formal recipe. Any cooking instructions I give don’t need to be detailed and precise. That’s just as well, I think, because Mother Nature is variable, so the idea of precision with most cooking feels oxymoronic. It may seem reassuring on the page, precise measurement, but since ingredients, especially plant ingredients, vary widely with season, variety, soil, weather, it’s a bit misleading.

I’m enjoying writing my “kitchen explorations” section in these posts. You may wish that I delivered exact precise recipes here. Other people do a very good job of that. But I prefer the idea of finding my way in the kitchen, trying things out, and of working within the framework of ideas. And in turn I like encouraging you to find your way, by giving open-ended instructions and descriptions. Life’s much more interesting if we keep inquiring, don’t you think?

AIRPLANE FODDER

I knew the the flight on EVA Air from Toronto to Taipei was due to be nearly 16 hours, so I packed four paperbacks in my hand-carry, hoping there’d also be a few decent film choices. In the end I needed all three books, as well as two films: Koln 75, the story of the Keith Jarrett concert, which was fun to watch, and a 2025 fantasy romance with Colin Farrell and Margot Robbie called A Big Bold Beautiful Journey that I don’t recommend.

these two, both very diverting, as well as Hunting Badger by Tony Hillerman, were my escape

KITCHEN EXPLORATIONS

Long ago, in the mid-1970’s I spent about a year travelling in Europe, and then over two months in Nepal, before returning to Canada. I learned a lot from many people, including from a wonderful creative Swiss woman from the Jura named Monique. She was welcoming and open-minded, a model for me of how to be, how to conduct myself.

One day she made a simple vegetarian dish, a casserole, that was much more than the sum of its parts. And then once home from travels I made it occasionally, when I found Belgian endive at a reasonable price, and especially if I was feeding vegetarians. It’s made of endive leaves, rice, and mushrooms, plus dots of butter. They’re layered in a casserole dish with a tightly sealed lid and cooked in the oven. It all works much like the Indian technique of sealed pot cooking called “dum”: the rice and the mushrooms cook in the moisture given off by the endive. Once it comes out of the oven, you add some cream and stir, which gives richness and pulls the flavours together.

I made the endive-mushroom casserole fairly regularly for a while, but then once I had kids, one-pot meals were a thing of the past, and I kind of forgot about it.

Last weekend, the night before leaving on this trip, I decided to try making it again, using my heavy Staub pot. I had Belgian endives, plus some radicchio in case my quantities were off. And there was polished Japanese rice and a half pound of cremini (aka ordinary) mushrooms. All I needed to buy that day was a small container of cream.

I was guessing at quantities and proportions, trusting to old memories of the look and feel of things. And it all worked out well, because it’s a flexible concept. Because I noted quantities and embarked on it like a recipe test, I am for once setting out a relatively precise recipe. It’s very forgiving, so please don’t worry if your quantities stray from the amounts suggested.

I used some radicchio leaves in the layers because I didn’t have quite as much endive as I needed. When cooked both give the necessary edge, a touch of bitter, that is a wonderful contrast to the sweetness of the cream and the umami of the mushrooms. My salt amount is on the low side, because it’s a pleasure here to adjust seasoning with a little flake salt as you eat.

This makes enough for a main course for 2, or a side for 4.

About 1 ½ pounds/725 grams Belgian endives, separated into leaves

1 pound/450 grams cremini mushrooms, coarsely chopped

About ½ cup white rice, soaked in water 10 minutes

About 4 tablespoons (2 ounces)/60 grams salted butter, divided into 4 pieces; and in small chunks

About 1 teaspoon/5 grams fine sea salt, plus flake salt on the table

About 1 cup/225 ml ordinary (18% to 30%) cream

Black pepper grated on after cooking

Preheat your oven to 375 F/190 C

Start with a heavy cast-iron or other pot 8 to 10 inches/20 to 25 cm in diameter, with a tight-fitting lid. Start by placing a layer of endive leaves on the bottom of the pot. Sprinkle on some rice, about 3 tablespoons, and about a quarter of the mushrooms. Drop on dots of butter, about 1 tablespoon (a quarter of what you have). Repeat the layers, then top with the remaining endive leaves. (If you run short of endive you can use some radicchio leaves to supplement.)

the assembled layers, with a few more endive leaves to go on, and then the lid

Sprinkle on a little water, about ¼ cup/125ml. Place the lid on top (if your lid is not heavy, or not a good seal, use some foil under the lid to keep the moisture sealed in).

Cook in the centre of the oven until the endive has collapsed and the rice is tender, about one hour. Cooking times will vary; they depend a little on the heaviness of your pot.

Take the pot out of the oven, lift off the lid, add the cream, and stir and turn. Put the lid back on and let it sit for a few minutes. Serve from the pot. Grate black pepper generously over each serving and put out flake salt so guests can add a little if they wish.

lush and earthy and completely delicious; brown food at its best!

I had a nice fillet of farmed rainbow trout from Fisherfolk, about 2/3 pound/300 grams, to serve with the casserole. It was at room temperature, with the flesh side smeared with a scant tablespoon of shio koji plus a little Georgian blue fenugreek.

I heated a large cast-iron skillet, added olive oil, then some chopped ginger and cumin seed. After a minute or so in went a large handful of thinly sliced carrot and a sprinkling of salt. After some stirring, the carrot was coated with flavoured oil. I added a little hot water so the carrot would cook as it sizzled in the hot pan under a lid. When the carrot slices were just tender, I moved them onto a serving dish, then drizzled a touch more oil into the pan.

The fish went in skin side down. I put on the lid and cooked it at medium high for about 4 minutes, flipped it over briefly, for less than a minute, then flipped it back and transferred it onto a serving dish, mounding the carrots alongside.

Leftovers of the endive and mushroom casserole with two fried eggs on top were spectacular the next morning. It was a very luxurious combination

I hear from friends that Toronto is now very cold, with lots of fresh snow; this shot from my garden a week ago, of lavender looking perky in the garden, is now very out of date!