NON-COMPLIANT STATES OF MIND

and some food ideas

This is a momentous season, as Ramadan ends and we head towards Passover and Easter… It’s a green and rainy time in much of the northern hemisphere, with fickle windy weather, sharp shadows when the sun is out, the first brave spring flowers, and days that lengthen dramatically as we move through the month.

Traditionally it’s a time for cleaning out, clearing out, packing away winter clothes, and looking for lighter layers. I find myself vaguely day-dreaming about filling boxes with stuff from various cupboards and shelves: assorted bags and pieces of light luggage, clothes and shoes unworn for a long while, basement shelves three-deep with paperback books. I know it’s the right thing to do. But I don’t get started; I just imagine it. Perhaps I’m dreaming this way to escape from the reality that I have not yet assembled the paperwork for filing my taxes…

The fact is, I’ve always avoided dealing with dreary obligations like cleaning cupboards or sorting paperwork until seriously obliged to.

But every day in the kitchen, if nowhere else, I do step up. The kitchen is the place where I can visualise a task and then actually deliver on it with good energy. I think that’s because I’m free to improvise, to figure things out on the fly. There’s very little same-old, same-old. I’ve never been a compliant follower of recipes. I don’t find that stimulating. Instead I like the uncertainty of experimenting.

Luckily I’m free to cook freestyle because the people in my household, and the various friends who may also be at my table, are a generous group of appreciative eaters. I don’t fear their displeasure. I can take risks, play around with techniques and ingredients, without worrying that they’ll be upset. I revel in their good appetite and in their feedback, which is always thoughtful.

It sure makes cooking a pleasure.

The fear of failure, of not being good enough, is such a drag, especially in the kitchen. It inhibits us from taking risks or pushing ourselves into new terrain. It pushes us into compliance and predictability.

The freedom to not comply is precious. And these days it feels even more valuable as we watch authoritarianism take over in the US. Let’s stay alert: Wherever we can take our freedom we must, rather than allowing ourselves to be reduced to compliant beings at the mercy of others.

And let’s remember to appreciate the people who grow, harvest, and process our food.

KITCHEN EXPLORATIONS:

This winter I’ve been playing around with squash, since locally grown squash is available all winter at farmers markets in Toronto. I’ve evolved a squash soup that is a distant cousin of the squash soup in my book Hot Sour Salty Sweet. I realised this after I’d been playing with it for awhile. I hack the squash open with a cleaver, clear out the pits and membranes, rub a little olive oil onto the flesh surfaces, and then oven-roast it on a baking sheet at 400F (200 C). Once it’s cooled I scrape the flesh off the skin (there’s usually about 4 cups of cooked flesh), put it in the food processor with a cup or 2 of water, and process it until smooth. All this can be done well ahead.

To make the soup I heat several tablespoons of olive oil in a heavy pot, toss in mustard seeds, fennel seed, a dash of turmeric powder, and sometimes cumin seed too. Once the mustard has popped, in goes the minced or mashed ginger (a generous amount, from about 2 inches of gingerroot), and some mashed garlic. After a minute or two of stirring, in goes the pureed squash and another 2 cups of so of water. I usually add a splash or two of fish sauce and some salt at this stage. After the mixture cooks on low heat, half covered (to prevent spatters) for about half an hour, I stir in ½ cup or more of thick coconut milk. You may want the soup less thick, in which case add more water to thin it. Check for seasoning before serving.

The other day I was making squash soup for supper and thought I’d also try making mashed potatoes, not a usual thing for me. I’ve occasionally made a kind of approximate version, without much understanding. This time friends were over for supper and took me in hand. The trick, my friend Ed Rek showed me, is to heat cream (or whole milk) and butter together. You start mashing the hot freshly cooked potatoes, and as you do you add the hot cream-butter mixture. (Of course the potatoes are cooked with the peel on, so they lose no flavour during cooking. Slipping the peel off once they’re done is easy, even when they’re hot or warm, if you use a glove on one hand or anchor the potatoes with a fork as you peel them). By the way, I was impatient and took the potatoes off a little early, so a couple of them were not perfectly cooked through. That meant there were a few slightly chewy bits, which no-one seemed to mind. Imperfection was not a problem!

The potatoes were a great pair with the thick squash soup.

But we needed crispness too, and edge. That came from a radicchio salad dressed with a tahini vinaigrette (tahini loosened with a little warm water, a touch of olive oil, and a dash of cider vinegar).