Rearview mirror...

"What a Difference a Day Makes" is an old standard with blah lyrics, but Dinah Washington turned up the heat on that old tune, taking it from lukewarm to a scorcher. I could now sing "What a Difference Some Months Make" and really wail. It's nearly July, and life isn't the blues, it's humming a different song. I've been walking three or four times a week, gradually increasing the distance when weather allows. Last week, I finally walked more than two miles, with the other two walks last week averaging more than one and a half miles, a distance arrived at by dividing the number of steps on my dollar store pedometer by my average stride (2,400 per mile). I'm off the Metformin completely, and my fasting blood sugar is averaging between 85 and 100. However, I'm still taking blood thinners and a statin. I don't climb on a scale except at the doctor's office, but I've lost at least 25-30 pounds. It's mostly due to eating a lot of vegetables, whole grains and fruits, as well as eschewing all alcohol. When I look in the mirror, a thinner face looks back, but I still have quite a lot of weight to drop. On one of my walks last week, a six-year-old kid I've encountered several times tagged along as I walked, listening my headphones, insisting, "You're fat. You're fat." Yesterday he tried to get my attention from across the street, but I carefully ignored him while concentrating on enjoying my soundtrack. Several years ago, I got a $35 Apacer .mp3 player, but didn't keep it charged. I recently resuscitated it, taking all the photos out of memory and cramming it with music, everything from Jobim and Miles to Don Pullen and Stevie Ray Vaughn. It also has a few of my percussive home studio pieces; I find they are the perfect tempo to pick up the pace. Now my walks are also an excuse to indulge in a little musical solitude. Meanwhile, I have cut back on watching the Food Network and Cooking Channel. I do not delve as frequently into Julia Child DVDs, Saveur and other foodie mags. It's simply too painful, although my email box is still full of recipes and other food porn. My mainstays have been Asian-derived ingredients and salads. I did indulge a bit too much in gai lan, which threw my blood thinner medication levels out of whack. How could I know that gai lan has five times as much vitamin K as broccoli? I've now backed off the spinach and bok choy, too. My cousin has shed 50 pounds by completely avoiding carbs. I haven't gone that far. I'm unable to completely give up brown rice, whole grain breads and the occasional rice noodle. But I do feel better. If my arteries, knees and feet will just hold up, I might make it to 70, or beyond.

Twin Obsessions: Nicoise and Pesto

I have been a fan of a good nicoise since the first encounter many years ago in France, but it's not something I have attempted at home more than once or twice. Pesto is another of my Mediterranean obsessions. This year, I already have basil thanks to a huge plant from Trader Giovanni and some unseasonably warm weather. Ergo: the Primo Pesto Plate. First make a pesto: Not having pine nuts but blessed with a surfeit of almonds in the freezer, I blanched 1/2 cup almonds briefly in salted water, since they still had on their skins, then cooled them and removed the skins. That was kind of fun, as they squirt out like grapes. Next I toasted them, shaking them frequently in a heavy dry skillet (I was careful to add only a trace of color). I added the almonds to the food processor with a big handful of fresh basil leaves; 2 sprigs of fresh oregano stripped off the stems; 2 T. olive oil, 3 garlic cloves; juice of half a lemon and 1 tsp. balsamic vinegar; 1/4 pound feta, crumbled; 1/4 cup chopped or grated parmesan, salt and pepper. I processed the mixture, adding a little water until the consistency was like a thick salad dressing, not a paste. I already had a piece of baked salmon in the refrigerator (or you could steam an uncooked piece of fish with the vegetables. If I hadn't had the cooked salmon, I could have used a can of solid albacore tuna, drained). Next, I steamed two red potatoes, cut into fours; four spears asparagus; and half a pound of fresh green beans over salted water. I started with the potatoes, then added the green beans and asparagus, cooking them until the potatoes were fork tender. If your steamer is small and you're also cooking the fish, you could briefly cook the green beans in a little salted water in a saucepan, shocking them in cold water to stop the cooking. The vegetables cooled to nearly room temperature. Meanwhile, I chopped two scallions, and washed and halved six cherry tomatoes. To assemble the meal, I arranged the potatoes, green beans, asparagus and fish pieces on each plate, placing cherry tomatoes around the edges, and scattering scallions on top. Then I placed a generous serving (about 1/4 cup) of the pesto in a small container next to each plate, to drop spoonfuls of pesto over the vegetables and fish to taste. Mom is not a big pesto fan, so I had more pesto readily at hand. The extra pesto freezes well. Walnuts, even pine nuts as per the original recipe might be substituted for the blanched almonds Other options: Low carb people could steam half a head of cauliflower, broken into florets, to replace the potatoes. Kalamata olives would be tasty additions arranged around the plate with the tomatoes. Or I could have eliminated the asparagus and added steamed or marinated artichoke hearts. Now I am eating more Mediterranean than ever by combining twin cravings.

Closet-Pole-Falling-Down Dinner

Sunday dinner was easy, which was a necessity while undertaking reconstruction of Mom's closet for the second time, a process involving sweat, swear words, jerry-rigging, iffy sheetrock screws and the available tools. Meanwhile, there are piles of her clothing on the bed, triage for Goodwill or the seniors' thrift store. Mom heard what she thought was a limb crashing down on the back roof. I promptly investigated and found nothing amiss. It wasn't until later when Mom opened her closet to discover heaps of clothing on the floor amid the shelves and collapsed pole that we found the source of the crash. Two screws were broken off in the wall, and metal was bent. A trip to Home Depot was needed to try to approximate the fix that came into my head, an ugly but functional support involving PVC pipe, a base and pipe fittings to cradle the pole on its precarious screws, a stalagmite solution to a stalagtite problem. As I worked on the porch next to the hanging fuschia basket Mom couldn't resist at Home Depot, I dodged occasional raindrops and went through the charged battery for the Dremel trying to saw through PVC pipe. Waiting for it to charge again, I started dinner and measured the closet pole and supports for the third time. I liberated a frozen Alaskan wild salmon fillet (approximately 1-1/2 lbs.) from the freezer.Laying it out still frozen on a large piece of heavy aluminum foil on a half sheet pan, I drizzled it with Asian salad dressing (Walden Farms calorie-free); a dash of low-salt tamari; a small line of toasted sesame oil down the fish; approximately 1/2 tsp. of cilantro paste from a tube (or use 1 tsp. finely chopped fresh); 1/2 tsp. applewood smoked salt; 1/3 tsp. each of garlic and onion powder, and freshly ground black pepper. Using a small spoon to evenly distribute the seasonings over the fish, I then laid 4 fresh basil leaves over the fish (I had a sprig of purple Thai basil, but Italian basil would work just as well). I left the pan out on the counter for about 45 minutes, until the fish was not quite thawed, then folded the foil into a loose package on the baking sheet, sealing it but leaving some air space above the fish. Meanwhile, I placed spears of sweet potato on a glass pie plate, spraying them with a little olive oil and seasoning them with salt and pepper. In another glass baking dish, I broke apart half a head of cauliflower, spraying it with oil and seasoning it with onion powder and a little smoked Spanish paprika. I started the vegetables first at 325, then added the fish to the already working oven, cooking the fish in a 300 degree oven for 30 minutes. Dinner couldn't have been healthier or more delicious. Now, back to the closet so Mom can sleep in her own bed again. This meal also be done on the grill. Variation 2: The salmon could be baked in parchment packets with smaller, flatter pieces of fish, plus a few thinly sliced vegetables like zucchini or other summer squash, with mushrooms and green onions or chives, sprinkled with the above seasonings.

The Polska Stuffed Cabbage Polka

A humongous cabbage has been lurking in the crisper drawer. It was on sale for 99 cents after St. Patrick's Day, no doubt left over from corned beef and cabbage at the brewpub owned by the local grocer. Goaded by the need for more refrigerator space and a desire for something adventurous in the comfort food category, I decided to make stuffed cabbage. My grandmother was not Polish or Jewish, but her version had elements of both cultures. I decided to try to emulate hers while adding healthier elements. Climbing on a ladder, I pulled down a large steamer/stockpot combination that I use for canning and put the head of cabbage to steam over boiling salted water after removing the core. I thawed a pound of low-fat chicken breakfast sausage rather than drive further afield for ground turkey breast or really lean (4 percent or so) ground beef. To extricate the flavor profile from its breakfast leanings, I mixed together some augmentation: TVP (soy based, non-GMO, no solvents) with a bit of water and tomato sauce, dried shiitakes reduced to near powder, raisins, garlic, miso, dried onion, a little black bean garlic paste, Spanish paprika, a dash of allspice, a dab of balsamic vinegar and a squirt of agave syrup. After that mixture hydrated, I added the chicken sausage and about a cup of cooked brown rice with a little Tony's and few sprinkles of Bufalo chipotle sauce. Into another large pot, I chopped a red sweet pepper, a third of a small onion and three cloves of garlic, opening a large can of crushed tomatoes and simmering it all with a bit more balsamic and malt vinegar, some coconut sugar and a squirt of agave. The cabbage pot had been pulled off the burner, and I peeled a pile of leaves. I cut off the fibrous core base in a triangular pattern, and placed generous mounds of filling into the giant leaves, placing the bundles in layers on a base of sauce in a large Dutch oven, adding sauce between each layer. The covered pan went into the oven at 325 for a little more than two hours with a casserole of acorn squash as its later accompaniment. The resulting cabbage rolls had the requisite Polish/Jewish sweet and sour tang. The savory filling laced with raisins had the right texture, and the TVP was not detectable. The cabbage was also quite tender and I am happy to report the rolls did not fall apart. Mom asked, "What it this?" That is a sign that in spite of her own mother's efforts, such ethnic offerings are now outside of Mom's acceptable-because-they-are-recognizable food categories. I may freeze some of the leftovers.

Caucasian Asian Breakfasts

I have steadfastly eschewed cereal as a breakfast option for some time. Until recently, I had not been breakfasting much at all, except perhaps on weekends when a fritatta, huevos rancheros or sourdough buckwheat pancakes were more brunch items than breakfast. Cereal, especially those that come in a box, leave me cold. However, I have a new reality. My morning routine must begin with a fasting blood sugar reading, and I have to take my morning Metformin with something to eat. My nurse practitioner (aka my sister) was aghast at my breakfastless state, and has urged low-fat protein as preferable to carb-laden breakfasts, the American norm. I have been trying Greek yogurt with half a fresh pear or banana, or a fresh fruit smoothie, which are okay but a bit too filling. Eggbeater omelettes are not the same as the lovely bright-yolked eggs I had been getting from local hens and placing over easy atop a tortilla and salsa fresca (actually a formerly favorite lunch). I have been trying various options, and recently hit on the most satisfactory breakfast of all, at least for my palate --- miso soup/pho in all their possible, if not totally authentic, permutations. This morning, I made a real winner incorporating some red organic non-GMO miso paste that I found in my favorite little Asian store on Mill Plain in Vancouver. I have not got up enough nerve to go home with the fish swimming around in their tanks, but that store is where I find reasonably priced baby bok choy, oyster mushrooms, dried sliced shiitakes, buckwheat and brown rice noodles, sesame oil, black bean garlic paste, various types of soy sauces and fish sauce and all the other Asian items now lining my shelves and the door of the refrigerator. This morning's repast began with a teaspoon of black bean garlic sauce and a little Bragg's amino sauce mixed in water, followed by dried shiitakes, oyster mushrooms, 2 scallions, 2 baby sweet orange peppers, 2 baby bok choy, ginger, garlic, about a half cup of frozen stirfry vegetables, the last of a frozen bag of mixed seafood (about 3/4 cup), and a handful of buckwheat noodles, topped off with a heaping tablespoon of red miso plus a drop of sesame oil and a couple of sprinkles of red pepper flakes. One big soup cup later, I was sated and ready for the day, with enough left over for a light supper. It is my version of stone soup, and can include tofu, light coconut milk, broccoli slaw strands, leftover salmon or other fish, mung bean/glass noodles (not that low carb, alas), asparagus, chicken breast, frozen green beans, chili paste, shredded carrot, or whatever else is lurking in the crisper drawer. One of these days I will make it out to Uwajimaya in Beaverton to stock up on bonito flakes, seaweed and other more authentic Japanese miso soup ingredients. Back in my macrobiotic hippie days, I used to enjoy spring miso, which is a more delicate, pale version of the tub of red miso I have now. One great thing about miso is its versatility (a tasty and healthful marinade for salmon or salad dressing ingredient) and its longevity in the refrigerator. Mom is not much of a fan, so I have been doing batches of vegetable/chicken/rice soup she can eat for her lunch with a pressed turkey and low-fat processed cheese sandwich. I cook pots of hot cereal for her breakfast. The latest version she heated this morning included steelcut oats, seven-grain rolled flakes, chopped dried apple, raisins and cinnamon. Tuesday morning, I had an early clinic appointment and had to eat something to go with my medicine, so opted for a little of her cereal, nuked and topped with a little fat-free half and half. Hey, it wasn't half bad, just a little too breakfasty for me.

Spring(s) eternal

Today is Easter, and tomorrow is April Fools' Day. (Please note that I am allowing for more than one of the latter.) Both seem apropos. The last three months have proven to be a pivotal point in my life. Not only did my heart literally skip a beat or three --- the official diagnosis was atrial fibrillation --- I have also been diagnosed with diabetes and high blood pressure. Atrial fibrillation is known colloquially as A-fib. It can be life-threatening due to blood pooling in the chambers of the heart and the potential for clots. In the E.R. I was given two transfusions that failed to convert my heart rhythms to normal. I was then anesthesized and given an electric shock, which did the trick. I had not had a regular doctor's exam in years, but knew from a couple of health fair blood tests and blood pressure readings that I had a 'pre-diabetic' condition as well as high blood pressure. I was the Queen of Denial, and the E.R. doctor let me have it with both barrels. Now I owe my life to Providence Hospital, both literally and figuratively. The monetary payment due for my self-neglect is mounting daily and currently exceeds $8,000. I am paying in other ways, from the pricks of blood sugar testing (at first I did five a day) to facing the reality that those low-fat and sugar-free dishes I have been making for Mom are also my permanent lot in life, with no slipping away for the occasional bacon cheeseburger. I have also quit drinking, which was no doubt contributing to lopsided cholesteral readings and nighttime blood sugar highs, which is when I had the A-fib episodes. (Yes, there were several; the first two I ignored). Chastened, I am taking little walks, which I hope can increase in length as the weather improves and my stamina builds. I am also trying to deal with the pressure of mounting medical bills while not having my heart rhythms respond accordingly. Life has become a round of blood sugar and blood pressure readings and episodes of intestinal discomfort due to the new medications, which include Warfarin, a blood-thinning 'rat poison' that requires constant monitoring. Nevertheless, this is a lovely Easter. Mom is going to services wearing that new aqua dress and jacket that has been in the back of the closet awaiting this spring day. While she is gone, I plan to put together a healthy Easter repast: 4% ham slices with fresh pineapple, a brown rice/quinoa pilaf, and roast asparagus and baby bok choy, followed by beautiful fresh strawberries for dessert. I am thinking of using the non-stick donut pan to make little sugar-free, low-fat cakes as bases for strawberry shortcake. It is expected to top 70 degrees today, and in my own way, I am celebrating rebirth.

Of time and tamales

The holidays have come and gone, and the first week of 2013 has passed. Our fuschia hanging baskets are now finally languishing after surviving into the New Year, sporting only slightly shriveled blossoms amid ice and snow. I haven't posted anything on this blog since October. At Thanksgiving, I reworked a blog piece about the 2011 community dinner at the request of the newspaper's new editor published as a guest editorial. A responding letter the following week, originally a Facebook posting, was nasty and viperous rather like Oscar Brown Jr.'s song about the snake, as in receiving a fatal bite after taking it to your bosom to keep it warm. I have somewhat recovered, but am no longer shopping at the store where the letter-writer is manager. Two holiday bazaar booths, two ailing vehicles, two family holiday trips to my sister's, and a new regimen of physical therapy sessions requiring me to shuttle the mama twice a week have had me hopping. Now that we are settling in for a long winter's nap following the surfeit of holidaying, I have managed to resuscitate one of my computers long enough to go online more than a minute at a time. However, if the icestorm I fear is brewing materializes this evening, there may be no power, so I am hastening to post something to indicate I am still breathing. I have been going through old files and notebooks, sorting out the good stuff and corraling old writings to one or two boxes, a good project for a new year. I have more poems than I thought, some good, some not so, plus a wildly disparate collection of writing fragments gleaned from over the years. They include some fiction pieces, essays revealing several facets of complicated times and relationships in my life, song lyrics, plus an entertaining five-page letter from the early San Francisco days and a packet of letters from Alaska. I am cocooning to the degree that I am wallowing in a new, compact recliner that sits where my rocker used to be, and doing another 'She Who Watches' beaded piece. My Obo Addy beaded and appliqued wall hanging was sent last week to his widow, Susan. It took 'honorable mention' at the Artists of the Gorge show in October. I am also being quite nostalgic about food, and have several pending projects planned. Our family is not Hispanic, but for a number of years, making chicken tamales was a holiday tradition, with my Missourian grandmother as the instigator. We did not have masa then, but used some of the broth from simmering a whole bird to cook cornmeal, adding lots of cumin seed crushed by hand. Our tamales were not terrifically spicy, but they often had canned and diced green jalapenos plus some oregano, garlic, onion, bay leaf, etc. The shredded meat was placed in the center after cooked cornmeal was spread on two or three pieced-together soaked cornhusks. We prided ourselves in using thin strips of cornhusk as ties, although I remember kitchen twine in earlier years, or wrapping the tamales in squares of old white sheets when husks weren't available in the frugal old days and the stewed chicken was a sacrificial hen. They were steamed in the big canner. We quit the tradition when the grandkids turned up their noses, to my grandma's disgust. I still love tamales, and occasionally make a mole version. I have a big package of masa, some mole paste, and an itch to get the big canner off the high shelf. At the very least, they freeze well.

Ms. Fix-It

This is one of those days when annoying but necessary aspects of everyday life conspire to remind us how vulnerable we are to basic infrastructure failure. To sum it up, today I have dealt with a phone outage, replaced a toilet seat, changed two furnace filters and most dauntingly, put a new dead bolt in the front door. And yes, I also helped my mother survive a catastrophic moment (so she thought), when a large container of chicken soup I made yesterday slipped from her fingers and exploded across the kitchen floor. The first hint: On awakening I dealt with the telephone company for the second day about our service, which included no dial tone yesterday but had evolved by 8 a.m. today to crackly static. Calling what used to be Sprint but is now Century Link about phone service involves a humiliating series of "press 1" and "press star," one of the most frustrating series of automated responses I have encountered in customer relations, with the possible exception of those companies that have outsourced their customer service to India, prisons, Mexico or outer reaches of the universe. After I managed to communicate through the static to learn that we were on the repair list, I replaced two furnace filters as well as disconnected a toilet seat that has been biting me on the butt for weeks now. The new toilet seat has been awaiting my resolve, which wavers when I recall the last time I tried to do this particular chore. It turned out to be as difficult as I remembered, until I reached below the bowl, which turned my insides out (I have a weird hernia) and removed the plastic screws by hand rather than making futile gestures with the screwdriver with an extra-large tip, which I had previously been attempting in total futility. All was accomplished in time for the detritus to be collected by the weekly garbage service. I had managed to communicate with them yesterday. I discovered the lack of dial tone when hoping for a pickup, but later managed to leave a message by cell phone. Making sure the old toilet seat and furnace filters were in the garbage can before the Monday pickup was my first triumph of the day. A subsequent chore was more daunting. We had ths same deadbolt and lower doorknob lock on the front door that were there when we moved in. The deadbolt in particular has been quite squirrelly lately, and while I have been able to lock the deadbolt when leaving for extended periods through experimentation, I have not been able to lock it from the inside for some time when we retire for the night. It has been nagging me as a possible problem one of these days, when I will not be able to enter no matter how hard I try my little key twists. This last Sunday, Mom came home early from church not feeling well, and was unable to unlock the front door for some time. I was on a shopping excursion to Cascade Locks, and when I arrived home, she was not happy. Monday, I checked the phone book and determined that only two companies in the entire area offer residential service, one in Hood River and the other in The Dalles. This began to sound expensive. Calling the local hardware store evoked the information that while new lock sets and rekeying are available there, installation is up to the purchaser. I do not have the lower knob lock installed yet --- deadbolt installation included removal of the previous lock, which had no screws, chiseling of wood around the sides of the front plate and two new screw holes. Suffice it to say that after tool experimentation, measuring and summoning reserves of contemplative powers I didn't know I had, the top lock is installed. It works. The pot roast is in the oven. I am signing out.

A kale call

Feeling a non-specific malaise, possibly due to looming predictions of rain and real fall weather, I decided I needed a nutritional boost and chose to get it from kale. This peasant green is at the forefront in many blogs and foodie magazines recently, but I happen to have it in my garden this year. It emerged unbidden as a volunteer, not in great profusion but doing well enough that in spite of a couple of cuttings its growth has continued. In years past I swore by Siberian kale, a non-curly type from Territorial Seeds that returned several years as a volunteer. This returning variety is curly. We haven't yet had the frosts that encourage the nutty notes that emerge or witnessed its renaissance in early spring when it rebounds with restorative fervor. An admission of neglect rather than aspirations of foodiness caused me to decide it was time for a little pruning. Using the scissors, I made a swath in the teeming undergrowth now known as my garden patch. It yielded two large stems of kale with all their leaves (more remain for another day), plus a few stray rainbow chard and beet greens, two baby zucchini, (one yellow, one green), and some herbs. Two large sprigs each of basil and lemon thyme, plus a little marjoram and some chives were brought in the house with the mess of greens. I chiffonaded the kale with scissors, putting the pile into my enamel dutch oven and adding about 3/4 of a cup of low-fat, low salt chicken broth (the pan was half full until until the kale diminished in the heat). I chopped up about 1/4 pound of low-fat ham rescued from the freezer and added the chopped summer squash and herbs, covering the dutch oven tightly after adding 1 tsp. dried garlic bits and about the same amount of dried onion, as well as a dash of Worchestershire sauce and 1/4 cup of dry white wine. Letting it simmer, I put three cups of water in a heavy saucepan with a 1/2 tsp. of salt and brought it to a boil, adding a half pound of whole grain penne. When it was still al dente (about 6 minutes in), I drained it, leaving a spoonful or two of water. I added most of the cooked kale mixture to the dutch oven, greatly shriveled, plus a sprinkle of smoked paprika, 1/4 pound of low-fat cream cheese and a small chunk (one or two ounces) of colby jack, which I stirred into the penne on the burner after the heat was off, adding at the last second a bit of grated parmesan. After a minute of melding on the plate, it was pretty awesome. I gave it about 45 seconds in the microwave when a third of the way into my lunch I was distracted by a phone call. That only seemed to improve it. I don't know yet about the effects of the vitamin boost, but it was what I needed.

Green, green, it's green they say...

Craving something spicy, I made a batch of chicken enchiladas. There are certain things I cannot do without, and food with a kick is at the top of that short list. Our local store is now occasionally carrying unexpected produce including tomatillos and jalapenos, and at reasonable prices, too. Here's my usual enchilada assemblage: Roast a pound of tomatillos in their husks with one or two jalapeno peppers under the broiler in the toaster oven, turning them as they get a little brown and crispy on each side. Don't completely char them. An outdoor grill is great for this, if you have it fired up. Alternatively, I have roasted them on a long-handled fork directly over the burner, especially peppers, but put on the exhaust fan to avoid fumes and the resulting smoke alarm racket. I close them in paper lunch sack and let them steam and cool a bit. Briefly saute one chopped yellow onion and three diced cloves of garlic in a little oil in a heavy-bottomed sauce pan. Crush 1 teaspoon of whole cumin seed in your hand and add to the pot with 1/2 tsp. dried oregano. Peel and chop the tomatillos and peppers. Do not wash them after peeling --- you want that charred taste. If you don't like as much heat, remove the pepper seeds and internal membranes and discard. Add 1/2 cup of chicken or vegetable broth to the pan with the chopped tomatillos and peppers and simmer. After the tomatillos become more translucent, take the pan off the burner and use an immersion blender or place the mixture in a kitchen blender and turn it into sauce. Add 2 T. chopped fresh cilantro and set aside. (By the way, you now have a green salsa that can also grace tortilla chips or tacos.) Cut 3 partially thawed skinless, boneless frozen chicken breasts into smallish chunks, season, and saute briefly until some browning occurs, but don't cook them through. Set aside. Open a can of black beans and drain. Do not rinse. Chop 3 scallions, saving the green tops for later. Grate 1/2 pound pepper jack cheese and 1/2 pound mild cheddar (if you have cotijo-type Mexican farmers cheese, you can crumble it and use it in place of the cheddar.) Sometimes, I use long thin slices of cheese rather than grated. If you have deli sliced cheese, cut it into strips. Open a small can of sliced or chopped olives and drain. Meanwhile, spray a large rectangular baking dish --- I prefer glass or enameled cast iron --- and begin your assembly. I like handmade-style corn tortillas from La Tortilla Factory, which have some wheat in them and are more flexible than machine-made corn tortillas, which tend to break up. Rather than dipping them in the sauce or heating them in a little oil before rolling them up, I heat them briefly in the microwave about 30 seconds, one at a time on a plate. When I lived in San Francisco, I went to a "Mexicatessen" in the Mission District that made tortillas de mano, purchased while warm and pliable. Place a row of chicken pieces in the center of the warmed tortilla. Spoon some sauce over the chicken, add a sprinkle of scallion rounds, a spoon or two of black beans, some grated cheese and a few pieces of olive. Roll and place in the baking dish with seam side down. Pack each rolled tortilla tightly next to its neighbor until the pan is full. (This usually makes enough for one more square pan of enchiladas; they often go straight into the freezer to be enjoyed another day). Spoon sauce over the top to moisten. Sprinkle on copious cheese and a few chopped green scallions. Bake at 375 for about 35-40 minutes, or until it's bubbling and the cheese has browned a little. Let the pan rest five minutes before serving. Variations: Sometimes I use cooked rice in place of beans. One year when frost hit my garden early, I used hard little green tomatoes as a tomatillo substitute. They don't have quite the right acidity, but they worked. Also, a couple of tablespoons of green mole paste can be added to the sauce while blending. If so, add another 1/4 cup of chicken broth, beer or white wine for the right consistency. Leftovers can be frozen or heated in the microwave; they are even better.

Summer Abundance, Continued

A former dear neighbor showed up this morning as we were about to leave for town. She was a bit early to leave the sack on the front doorstep and run undetected. The bag contained four healthy zucchini, a bag of cucumbers destined to become pickles, and a giant head of cabbage. I returned home having skipped the entire vegetable section at the grocery store, in anticipation of the bag sitting on my counter. The cabbage beckoned first, so I decided to do something Mom loves, stuffed cabbage, playing a little fast and loose with some of the traditional ingredients to include other elements waiting in abundance on the counter. Taking a half pound of turkey Italian sausage out of the freezer (see a previous posting) I began assembling the following in a nonstick skillet with the meat: 3 chopped small red, yellow and orange peppers from Trader Joe's, 2 chopped scallions, 3 big chopped mushrooms, 1/2 tsp. minced garlic, 1 tsp. dried onion, 1-1/2 cups cooked basmati brown rice, 1 chopped medium yellow summer squash, 1/3 cup white wine, 1 T. balsamic vinegar and some chopped fresh basil, lemon thyme and oregano (the usual suspects). Toward the end, I opened a jar or prepared pasta sauce with Italian sausage and added 3 T. to the rice/meat/vegetable mixture, reserving the rest to cover the cabbage rolls. I put 2 inches of salted water into a large enameled dutch oven, discarding the silicon steamer insert when it proved too unwieldy for the entire head of cabbage, which had the core removed but still protruded above the lid. As it cooked away, I finished sauteeing the vegetables, turkey sausage and rice, turning off the burner. The filling rested as the other elements completed cooking. Starting at the base of the semi-cooled cabbage, I peeled away entire half-cooked leaves, cutting out the fibrous rib before filling each leaf with the rice/sausage/vegetable mixture and adding grated cheddar and parmesan cheese before rolling them up in a large casserole dish. The rolls were covered with the remaining tomato sauce and some grated cheese. I ended up with another covered glass casserole dish with two remaining cabbage rolls and sauce before putting both into the oven at 325 degrees. About 50 minutes in, I took off the lids and let them cook an additional 10-15 minutes before taking them out to rest about 10 minutes. Mom thought the cabbage was still a little tough, but she has no lower denture plate. I think another day in the fridge ought to give them a little more tenderness before reheating. They were a bit 'healthy' but quite tasty, especially the ones I had embellished with a sprinkle of red chili flakes just for me.

Guilt-Free Lasagna

Zucchini glut can be a good thing. A large but firm zucchini sat on the counter for a day and a half, daring me to do something with it. An online search for yet another zucchini recipe pointed me in the right direction. I have since tweaked and twisted the recipe another 45 degrees. This is what I did: I sliced the zucchini lengthwise with a sharp knife into thin slabs about 1/4" thick. A mandoline also works for this task; I avoid them whenever possible, having sacrificed one too many bits of flesh. I cooked up a bechamel in a saucepan with about 1/2 cup of dry milk, 3 T. of cornstarch, a 1/2 tsp. each of garlic and onion powder, plus freshly grated nutmeg. Mixing the dry ingredients, I added 1/3 cup of evaporated milk, 1/4 cup dry white wine and 3/4 cup of water, cooking while stirring constantly over medium heat. Once it had thickened, I pulled the pan off the burner and grated in a little parmesan. In a skillet on medium high with 1 T. olive oil, I quickly sauteed the white part of two scallions, chopped, adding three chopped baby sweet orange, red and yellow peppers, (one-half a large sweet red or yellow pepper would also work). I used a small can of mushroom pieces, drained and added as the other vegetables cooked, but 3-4 fresh mushrooms would do the trick if most of the moisture is cooked out. As I pulled the skillet off the burner, I added three large chiffonaded basil leaves, plus the chopped leaves from two sprigs each of fresh marjoram/oregano and lemon thyme. Emptying the contents into a bowl, I added another bit of olive oil to the skillet and quickly broke up about 1/2 pound of uncooked turkey Italian sausage, breaking it up and sizzling it just long enough to get rid of most of the pink. I augmented its flavors with 1 tsp. of fennel seed crushed between my fingers, one minced garlic clove, some red pepper flakes, and another little splash of dry white wine. Starting with a thin layer from a jar of prepared pasta sauce in a large non-reactive covered rectangular/oblong casserole dish, I put down a layer of zucchini slices, with a thin layer of bechamel spread over the squash. That was followed by grated mozzarella (about three cups in the whole batch) and a sprinkle of grated parmesan (about 3/4 of a cup total). Then I added a layer of the pepper/mushroom mixture, some of the turkey Italian sausage, and another layer of tomato sauce, with the green scallion tops, some chives and a large basil leaf scissored over it. The successive layers of squash slices, pasta sauce, cooked vegetables, sausage and cheeses ended with tomato sauce, dotted with the remainder of the bechamel and some mozzarella and parmesan sprinkled on the top to brown. I baked it in a slowish 325 oven for an hour and 10 minutes, then let it rest a half hour before serving. It was perfectly delicious; the noodles were not missed and it was not mushy. The recipe I downloaded baked the zucchini slices 10-15 minutes. That recipe also lacked Italian sausage, but added thawed frozen artichoke hearts, patted dry and chopped, as well as capers. Rather than a bechamel, the downloaded recipe used cottage cheese, though ricotta seasoned with some nutmeg and garlic would also work. I used what I had on hand. The result is a delicious addition to my zucchini repertoire. While it is a work in progress, the recipe has already been handed on to my gluten-free brother in Louisiana.