Carrots, shallots, mushrooms, and eggs. Sounds simple enough, but it really doesn’t describe the harmony these four basic ingredients — which are very easy to keep in your fridge at pretty much all times — take on together.

The hardest part of this simple dish, like so many others, is dicing. The better you are with a knife, the less time everything takes. Getting comfortable with your workhorse knife vastly increases the pleasure of cooking, because fine dicing ceases to become a chore and more of a joy. Practice, people! It only takes a few hundred hours to get good, as opposed to the 10,000 hours Malcolm Gladwell says it takes to get REALLY good at something, like golfing or playing the cello. So this is a great dish to practice,  and your family will exalt you for your efforts.

Dice up about a cup of carrots (I used yellow and purple ones in the photo above), and about half that amount of shallot and mushroom (I like criminis here, but any mushroom will do). Saute in a cast iron (or other) pan with some ghee or butter or olive oil (or combo of those three), stirring often. For extra umami, sprinkle on a big pinch of pulverized shiitake. When everything is soft, crack four of the best eggs you can find over the veggies. By now it’s almost a cliche to recommend quality ingredients, but this is ridiculously true with eggs: spend more, get some chickens, befriend your chicken-keeping neighbors — do whatever you have to do to get seriously great and fresh eggs. You’ll be amazed at the difference in color, texture, and taste.

Then pour a little liquid into the pan. You can use stock, carrot juice, orange juice, wine, water, whatever. Quickly cover the dish and let the eggs steam-cook in all that flavor. Finish off with a good pinch of pepper and good salt (herb salt is very nice here, as is lavender salt). When the yolks have largely set, but are still a tad liquidy, it’s done. Finish with some garlic chives, or whatever herb you like/have.  Time your toast and coffee (get those ready after you chop the veggies), warm your plates, get the newspaper, and get ready for a seriously pleasant, and energizing, breakfast.

I‘ve become such a convert to garlic confit that I thought I’d try to preserve some tomato bounty in the same way. The result: we may have yet another permanent breakaway flavor blast in the fridge! Classic tomato confit calls for roma tomatoes, sliced in half and roasted in a warm (250) oven for about four hours, enough to time really concentrate the flavors, as we do with our semi-dried tomatoes (and an umami-kissed version of them is here). But I didn’t have any romas, and had a boatload of gorgeous dry-farmed (method of farming that intentionally gives the plants very little water, allegedly to concentrate flavor) heirlooms.

I cut them into largish chunks without the bother of peeling them (I was feeling lazy, and the skin was pretty thin on them anyway), and placed them in a claypot, just to see how they’d turn out in comparison to a baking sheet. Turned on oven to 225, set a little reminder to come back in five hours, and had a lovely afternoon on the local hiking trails. Five hours later, they were reduced and concentrated, just as I had hoped, with quite a bit of nectar-like liquid still in the pot, which I drank and got a total nutrition buzz! Added a little dried tomato salt (well-dried tomatoes whirred in the spice grinder with some sel gris), transferred to a mason jar, and topped with fruity unfiltered olive oil.

I immediately made a pasta with tomato to the 4th power:

• raw heirlooms pureed with greek yogurt, thyme, and and tarragon, then heated and reduced
• tomato confit
• raw sliced heirlooms
• dried tomato salt

It was out-of-control good, one that I’ll definitely be featuring in the new book, which I hope will come out in late fall.

Most recipes for confit say that it will keep, refrigerated, “up to a week.” I find this laughable — it will keep for much longer than that, even ignoring the fact that this stuff is so good that it just won’t sit around very long. I’m well aware of the dangers of botulism in an inaerobic environment, but as long as you don’t forget about it for a few years, feel rueful, and slam down the whole jar, letting it live in your fridge for at least a few weeks, or even months, should be perfectly fine. As with all things in your fridge, however, always obey the golden rule — don’t let stuff sit around forever. I often follow the “one-month” rule: if I haven’t used something in a month, I’ll reconsider whatever it is — next time I’ll buy or make a smaller quantity, or just throw it out if I wasn’t that crazy about it in the first place.

Whatever your feelings on longer-term fridge stuff, do try making this confit — it just might earn a permanent place in your fridge, too. And please: if you do make it, come back and tell us what you did with it. OK?

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For a few weeks every summer, it just bakes here in Marin; I make a few pitchers of herbed lemonade — three or four meyers, a handful of herbs (mostly mint), a big squirt of agave, filtered water, and plenty of ice, all into the Vitaprep, then strained — maybe make a cheese plate and a salad, and declare victory. The thought of going near the stove is anathema.

Yesterday was one of those days. I had a small tub of pickled herring, picked up at Berkeley Bowl, that I was looking forward to munching on, and a beautiful bunch of radishes. Together they went into a bowl, along with a splash of olive oil, plenty of coarsely ground peppercorns (a medley of black tellicherry, green, and pink), and some tangerine salt. That’s it. But the medley is magical. I think adding anything else would just confuse it.

I’m not sure why this isn’t a canonical combination, because it really ought to be. Snappy fresh biting radishes, mellowed slightly by the piquant, sweet-sour fish and the pickled onions they come packed with, all moistened by the fruity green grassy olive oil and brought alive by the citrus salt. With a glass of gewurtz from Navarro, Daphne dancing in her bouncy contraption, and some cherished friends, it’s hard to imagine a better afternoon.

Herring is a massively underappreciated fish; it’s under the radar of most fish counters because it’s not set up on display, you have to search for it or ask for it. And I think many Americans have an aversion to much fish in general, and processed fish in particular. That tub cost I think about $2.50, and fed four people. It’s one of those items that should live permanently in the refrigerator, next to the olives. It makes a fine, fine dinner when you just don’t have the energy to cook.

Any other herring fans out there?

Man it’s been chilly here in Marin, and all over the SF bay area. Low 40s at night, Jesus! So I needed something with a little body-heating firepower, and came up with this easy and pretty healthy soup.

Chop a  big onion, a big carrot, and a big knob of ginger, and saute in plenty of olive oil and butter, along with some umami blasts: shiitake powder and dried tomato powder.  Add wild rice and beans (quantities don’t really matter, but I keep them on the modest side) and spices (ground star anise, coriander, black peppercorns), and add stock, water, or a combo of each (I used chicken stock), plus a small hit of fish sauce, soy sauce, and Bragg’s Amino Acids. Bring to a boil and let simmer, covered, for a good hour, or until the beans are soft, then add a large bunch of trimmed kale, and cook for another 15 minutes or so. Taste for salt — it shouldn’t require too much, thanks to the fish sauce and soy sauce, but you will need some; I finished this pot off with some buddha’s hand salt.

Soups like this are really low-effort, and high-payoff. Freezes well too, if you can’t polish off the entire pot in two days.

But enough of this cold already —  I’m ready for some scorching summer!

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Think miso soup. What comes up? A bowl of brown, oddly separating soup — half is clear, and half isn’t! simultaneously! — with perhaps some squares of white tofu, maybe some wakame (sea kelp), possibly another veggie or two, yes?

Today I was really in the mood for some miso soup, but had to move a gigantic pile of chard to get at my tub of miso in the back of the fridge. Out came the chard. It looked so nice on the cutting board. Hmm, I wondered what would happen if I made my green soup the usual way — saute leeks in butter/oil, add chard, add stock, and puree — but just added miso at the end? Would it fulfill my jonesing for miso?

I’m ecstatic to report that yes, it did! I added about two tablespoons of miso to the last little batch of pureed soup, and mixed that into the rest of the soup. Satisfying, and then some. And just for a little textural fun, I julienned the chard backbone and sauteed the strips in breadcrumbs and ghee, and tossed that on top. This one’s going to be going into the regular rotation, and definitely into the new vegetarian book.

You could use any kind of stock for the broth; today’s was duck stock, but it would be equally good with veg stock or chicken stock.

I’m finding myself using more and more miso these days, in all kinds of dishes. I used to be a fan of the gutsy red misos from Nagoya, but lately I seem partial to the more delicate white misos from Kyoto. Less intensity, but more layered flavor.

Anyone use miso in unusual ways? Let’s hear about it!

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I’ve described a similar “matcha soba salad” before, but it’s so easy and so good, and I’ve been making it so often, that I just can’t help myself. Here is what I do:

1. put a big pan of water to boil the noodles
2. root around in your fridge, and pluck out whatever vegetables you find
3. chop them up and saute in some olive oil, ghee, or butter (or a combo of all three). Season to your liking with plenty of good salt and pepper.
4. While the veggies cook, add the soba to the boiling water, and cook until al dente. Drain, and thoroughly rinse with cool water (this reduces the considerable starch of soba so that the noodles don’t clump together)
5. Gently combine the soba and the veggies. You may wish to tart it up with some umami by adding a splash of Bragg’s amino acids (or, you can achieve increased umami by adding some pulverized shiitake and/or pulverized dried tomato to the veggies as they cook), or make it tangy by adding some citrus zest and juice or a small drizzle of your favorite vinegar. Top with fresh herbs for the full effect.

I’ve made this with every conceivable vegetable: Chinese long beans, broccolini, cauliflower, edamame, sweet peppers, habaneros (yes!), lotus root, all the winter greens. It’s that versatile. Give it a shot! You can buy matcha soba in most Asian markets, but certainly all Japanese markets have it. Not expensive — I think it’s a little over two bucks for a pack of three servings.

But do the noodles really taste like matcha? No, they don’t. They’re just pretty, and it’s somehow comforting knowing there’s matcha (albeit a lower food-grade matcha) in them. If you really want to taste matcha in this dish — and you should! — top it off with matcha salt.

And speaking of matcha: I’ve written to just about every company in Japan that makes the really good stuff, asking for samples so that I can conduct some blind tastings. It’s been extremely educational (not to mention fun). Some are sublime beyond belief. I’m currently striking a deal with the blind-test winner to make me a special blend that will be called (what else?!) “breakaway matcha” that I want to share with anyone who’d like to try this remarkable and ridiculously healthy tea.  Stay tuned for more on this very exciting development!

I’ve lately developed a little habit that I’d like to share with you. Everytime we have chicken, there are always bones left at the end, either the whole carcass if I’ve roasted a whole bird or if I’ve purchased an already-roasted one (yes, I sometimes do that), or just the thigh bones from the bone-in thighs I sometimes make. After dinner, as we’re cleaning up, I’ll just chuck every bone into the pressure cooker, chop up an onion and maybe a carrot, toss in a dried shiitake or two, season with some s&p and whatever else beckons, and saute the massacre in some olive oil. I’ll then add some water, bring it to a boil, secure the lid, and cook under pressure for about 30 or 40 minutes. All of this has become so automatic that I don’t even think of it as extra work — it’s part of the cleanup, almost.

The payoff is the next day: I’ve got some incredibly flavorful broth with which to make a simple vegetable noodle soup. You just saute a sliced onion, a carrot, and whatever other veggies are laying around your vegetable crisper: chard, kale, green beans, fennel, broccoli, cauliflower, whatever. I saute the veggies in some olive oil, and usually add a generous pinch of dried shiitake powder (made by pulverizing a few whole dried shiitake in the spice grinder or, even better, in the Vita Prep blender, which turns them to dust in no time flat) for the extra umami hit. If I’m in a hurry I’ll add a small ladleful of the broth to cook the veggies faster.

While the veggies cook, heat up a small pot of water for the noodles. Udon and soba are my two favorite noodles to use in soups, but you could use egg noodles, rice noodles, even spaghetti. I used to cook the noodles in the boiling broth, to save time, but that method creates too much starch for me, so I cook the noodles separately, and then just lay the al-dente noodles in a heated bowl, followed by the veggies, followed by plenty of simmering broth, followed by chopped up fresh herbs and salt. In the photo above I’ve used green tea soba, fennel, carrot, onion, and chard sauteed in plenty of freshly ground star anise, and topped off with purple basil and kaffir lime salt.

It’s hard to overestimate how good this kind of soup makes your body feel. The hardest part of making soup this good is making good broth. But if you can mentally link the making of a quick, easy broth as just part of your chicken dinner cleanup — and it really does just take a few minutes of active prep — it’s a snap. The broth freezes nicely in ziplock bags too, just in case you don’t have time to use it the next day.

I  picked up a 20-pound French pumpkin (they’re called cinderella pumpkins, photo here) at the farmers market a few weeks back, and it was time to deal with it. Man does a 20-pound pumpkin contain a lot of meat! After roasting the entire thing in sections, on four baking sheets, we had a boatload of tasty roasted pumpkin. Pureed some and froze, ate some as a side dish with chopped herbs, gave some away, and … made a beautiful pumpkin curry out of the rest.

Had metric quantities of young ginger, fresh turmeric, and galangal leftover from last week’s video sessions (more on these to come), so those got added to the pot, along with a huge onion, chopped apple, a few carrots, and the usual curry suspects: freshly ground coriander, cardamom, star anise, and curry powder, all sauteed in ghee (also from last week’s video on making ghee).  What a nice smelling house this combo produces! To that I added a can of diced tomatoes, about three cups of pureed pumpkin, and, toward the end, about 1/2 cup of coconut milk.  It is THE mid-autumn food. Served with rice and pickles (daikon and persimmon — that pickle got a video, too!).

Made at least a gallon, half of which I’ll freeze. Going into a slight “fill up the freezer” mode, in prep for the arrival of our new family member! Baby daughter arrives in about three weeks, yikes!!

Remember Good Ol’ Raisins and Peanuts? The classic trail food. There’s something very satisfying about the crunchy-chewy combo of nuts and raisins. Delia was keeping a bowlful of almonds, walnuts, and raisins around as snack food, and I had a few watermelon radishes out, waiting for inspiration, when it dawned on me that these would actually be great together, bound by a simple vinaigrette. A lightning-fast salad that is as fun to eat as it is beautiful to look at.  A real energy boost as well.

• watermelon radish, cut into one-inch batons, or whatever size turns you on

• handful of raisins, currants, and/or dried elderberries (I love these — they’re like intense little blueberries)

• nuts toasted in a dry cast iron pan.  I used whole roasted almonds, walnut pieces, and pecan halves

• simple vinaigrette of good olive oil, fruity vinegar (like blood orange, pickled ginger, lemongrass, pear, or something similar)

Combine and enjoy!

Couldn’t resist some gorgeous rosa bianca eggplants I saw at the farmers’ market the other day. My standard eggplant dish sautes chunks of eggplant with ginger, fish sauce, and mint, but I was thinking something more casserole-ish for our little rain spell.

I ate quite a bit of bad eggplant parmesan as a kid. Remember the red-soaked supergooey version? Is there any other? There has to be! And if not, well, let’s make one.

The basic idea behind eggplant parm is to first salt some sliced eggplant to draw out excess moisture, then fry them in batches, then layer them into a baking dish along with layers of  parm, and tomato sauce. It seemed like it would take too long to fry the slices in batches, so I just loaded up two baking sheets with silpats, rubbed the eggplant with olive oil, and dusted them with a combo of shiitake dust (pulverized dried shiitake) and flour, and baked in a hot oven until they browned a bit, about 15 minutes per side.

While they cooked, I made a quick sauce with about six cups of chopped fresh tomatoes and garlic confit and reduced it to about a third its original volume. Also had on hand plenty of fresh oregano from the garden, green onions, and two beautiful persimmons, my first of the season! So when the eggplant was done, I got out the Chamba and layered as follows:

• layer of sauce
• eggplant
• parm
• thinly sliced raw zucchini
• green onions
• eggplant
• oregano
• persimmon wheels
• sauce
• parm
• eggplant
• fresh tomato on top
• parm

Nothing red and gloppy about it! It bursts with umami.  Topped with lavender salt and plenty of black pepper. The rosa bianca eggplants are really nice — they’re creamy, and have far fewer seeds than the standard eggplant. Ask the farmer to show you how to identify male and female eggplants — you want the males, because they have fewer seeds. I got a lesson, but she was pretty unclear about it. Does anyone know how to definitively do it? And: any other favorite eggplant dishes? We’re late in the season, I know, but I’m eating as many as I can before it shuts down altogether!