Mom's Roasted Red Peppers

My mother, Marie Mataraza, cooked for family and friends until she was almost 90 years old. She was happiest when she was feeding people. I obviously inherited my love for cooking from her. Mom's red peppers were always a treat. She would buy big batches in the late fall when they were at their peak, roast them, peel them and freeze those we weren't eating immediately, layered between aluminum foil, so when they were thawed they would peel apart without tearing.

She would pack the layers of peppers in small shallow aluminum trays (she loved exploring the aisles of the local "dollar store") with enough portions for about four servings so they would be handy for Sunday dinners throughout the winter, and as my cousin Michele reminded me today, to give to her many devoted nieces and nephews as a "gift" --and a token of her love-- when they stopped by to see how she was doing.

Our Sunday dinners through the winter always began with antipasti of roasted peppers (from the freezer), drizzled with olive oil, and garnished with capers. We'd eat the delicate strips of pepper and briny capers with chunks of Italian bread dipped into the delicious olive oil before moving on to the pasta course.

Because Mom roasted many peppers at once she would broil her "roasted" peppers. She placed the peppers in neat rows on a sheet pan and broiled them about 2 inches from the heat, turning with tongs as they charred and blistered. Then she would transfer them to a large bowl, cover the bowl with a plate and set aside until cool enough to handle. The skins would peel right off the cooled peppers without resistance. She never rinsed the peppers with water because "that would rinse away all the flavor." As they were peeled, the peppers would be spread out on a plate, but all the roasted juices, seeds and skins were allowed to drop back into the bowl. When she was done peeling the peppers she poured the contents of the bowl into a strainer saving the fragrant and delicious juices, and tossing out the rest. Years later when I began roasting red peppers in my own kitchen I would add the juices to Tomato and Roasted Red Pepper Soup or a quick tomato sauce for pasta, but Mom used them to dress her Roasted Red Pepper and Caper Platter making the bread dipping experience even more luscious.

I "roast" peppers pretty much the way Mom did, although I often line the sheet pan with a big piece of foil and then use the foil to wrap the peppers while they cool. I also use her trick of saving all the juices from the interiors of the peppers to season the platter of peppers at serving time. Because the peppers can be fairly labor intensive--especially if you're preparing a big batch--I have also come up with a short cut.

My short cut is truly roasting since I cook the peppers in a 400 degree oven instead of using the broiler. What I do is quarter, core and seed the peppers before roasting and line them up on a sheet pan lined with a large sheet of foil. (Easier to clean the pan, as well as catch all the juices as the peppers cool.) I season the peppers with a drizzle of oil, some bruised garlic cloves, coarse salt and a grinding of black pepper and roast about 50 minutes turning and moving the peppers on the pan as needed so they blacken evenly. When they get nicely blackened (but not burned!) I remove the pan from the oven, pull the foil up around the peppers, and crimp it closed. Once the peppers are cool the skins will slip right off. This method saves a little time and the peppers are almost as good as Mom's.

I only roast as many peppers as I'll have time to peel, as I'm not as adept at cooking from the freezer as Mom was. I usually do four to six peppers, or one per serving plus a little extra, since it hardly seems worthwhile to do fewer. It's fun to have a child or other willing cook's assistant on hand to help out. As our Nana always said, "Many hands make light work." Even when she was a "difficult teen" our daughter, Stephanie, loved to peel peppers. I would roast them ahead, wrap them in foil to cool and leave them on the kitchen counter for her to peel when she came in from school. Today Stephanie's daughter, Seraphina, has been known to pitch in with the pepper peeling task.

Mom's Roasted Red Pepper and Caper Platter

Roasted and peeled red peppers won't last in the refrigerator too long. I never store them for more than 4 or 5 days. But it's easy to use of leftovers. They're great on sandwiches, finely chopped and served with a slice of cheese or curls of Parmesan on crostini, stirred into soup, added to salad and tossed with pasta.

For your platter of Roasted Red Peppers with Capers you will need:

Large unblemished red bell peppers, washed, dried, broiled or roasted and peeled
Reserved roasted red pepper juices
Extra virgin olive oil, to taste
Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons capers, optional
Snipped fresh rosemary leaves, optional

Cut the peppers into wide strips or leave in quarters. Arrange in a single layer on a platter. Drizzle with enough reserved roasted red pepper juices and olive oil to moisten. Sprinkle lightly with salt and add a generous grinding of black pepper. Sprinkle capers on top and add a few rosemary leaves, if available.

I Couldn't Resist the Beautiful Bunches of Fennel at My Market Today

The bulbs were big slightly flattened ovals, the tops were tall, and the fern-like fronds reminded me of the gentle branches that drooped from the giant willow trees surrounding my childhood home.

Fennel is reminiscent of hearth and home for me. But, never cooked. Always raw. As kids we called it "finook" our shortened version of finocchio. It was a favorite treat, a delicacy, served in a the same cut glass celery dish only on special occasions.

It wasn't until I was an adult and cooking my way through Marcella Hazan's "The Classic Italian Cookbook" that I discovered cooked fennel. It was transcendent. Gone was the crisp crunch and juicy taste of licorice. In it's place was a soft silken texture and sweet subtle taste that I loved.

I still enjoy biting into a crisp ring of raw fennel, but my favorite winter vegetable side dish is braised fennel. Over the years I've strayed a bit from the original recipe, but the technique I learned from Marcella.

To make a vegetarian supper I serve Braised Fennel with Melted Parmigiano Reggiano with Oven Baked White Beans and Quick and Easy Roasted Red Pepper Wedges.

Skillet Braised Fennel with Melted Parmigiano Reggiano

Don't skip the first step that requires soaking the cut fennel in ice water. Soaked fennel always seems to be softer and moister than fennel I have neglected to soak before braising. Also, I know an 8-ounce wedge of cheese sounds like a lot, and it is. You won't use the entire wedge, but you'll need it to be able to shave off wide curls of Parmigiano Reggiano to melt on top of the fennel during the last few minutes of cooking.

2 bulbs fennel
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
Coarse salt
1 garlic clove
2 tablespoons finely chopped fennel fronds
I wedge (about 8 ounces) Parmigiano Reggiano
Freshly ground black pepper

1. Cut the tops from the fennel bulbs leaving only about 1 inch of the stalk attached. Wash the bulbs and use a serrated vegetable peeler to remove any bruises. Cut the bulb lengthwise into quarters. Finely chop 2 tablespoons of the fennel fronds and set aside. Place the cut fennel bulbs in a large bowl and add cold water to cover. Add a few ice cubes and let the fennel stand about 30 minutes. Drain and pat dry.

2. Place the fennel in a deep skillet or saute pan. Add about 1/2 inch of water and a pinch of salt. Drizzle the fennel with the olive oil. Bruise the garlic with the side of a knife and add it to the pan.

3. Cook the fennel, covered, over medium low heat, 15 minutes. With tongs carefully turn the fennel. Pierce it with a skewer or the tip of a small knife. It should be very soft. If it is still firm, cover and cook 10 to 20 minutes longer. Then uncover and cook over medium high heat until all the liquid is evaporated. Sprinkle with the fennel fronds.

4. Use a cheese plane or a vegetable peeler to remove large curls of cheese from the wedge of Parmigiano Reggiano. You won't use all the cheese, but you will need a nice sized wedged to be able to get nice big curls. Place one or two curls on top of each wedge of fennel. Cover and cook just until the cheese begins to melt, about 3 minutes. Top with freshly ground black pepper and serve.

Makes 4 servings

It's raining and cold. Tonight I'm making soup.

I spent the afternoon clearing off my desk and organizing my papers--and my brain--for my latest book," Fresh & Fast Vegetarian." I've been working on this book fairly consistently for the last couple of months, but I don't feel as organized as I'd like to feel. The desk cleaning was almost an excuse to "clear" my head. I call it "percolating." It took me twice as long as I thought it would. But, what else is new? At a little before 6 o'clock I felt the first pangs of hunger, it was dark and rainy outside, and worse yet, there was a chill coming through my office door. I headed to the kitchen without a real plan. This doesn't happen often, but when it does I open cabinets and pull things from the refrigerator seeking inspiration while noodling around in my head are two important questions, "What do I feel like cooking?" and "What do I feel like eating?"

I had been trying to organize the soup chapter for part of the afternoon, therefore I had soup on my mind. It felt like a good antidote to the dark, cold, wet weather. I knew I had a perfectly shaped organic butternut squash waiting in the kitchen, but, alas I hadn't thought ahead to roast it while fiddling with my files, and the thought of peeling and chunking up that hard squash and getting soup on in the next hour just wasn't appealing. I guess all that desk clearing had tuckered me out. But, I couldn't get the idea of squash out of my head. So, what next?

I opened the pantry one more time and spotted a can of organic Trader Joe's pumpkin I had bought with pie in mind. Do I dare substitute canned pumpkin for fresh roasted or cooked butternut squash? Feeling frisky at the thought of the challenge, I took the plunge. I like to think in flavor profiles of three. I like odd numbers. The flavor profile of this soon to be soup would be pumpkin, tomato and ground cumin. It turned out to be a good bet, although I had some reservations about the canned pumpkin. But in the end it tasted great and was an easy solution for a quick pot of soup.

To help develop the flavors I added the ground cumin to the hot sauteed onion. Heating ground spices helps to bring out their complex taste, a little trick I learned from dabbling in Indian cooking. I also used my other trick of adding water to the sauteed vegetables to create a substitute for vegetable stock. Then I added the canned tomatoes (if fresh tomatoes were in season, I would have used them instead) and the pumpkin and let the mixture simmer. I pureed the soup with my immersion blender. What a fabulous tool that is. No more pouring hot soups into blender jars or food processor bowls and praying to avoid a spill. (I'm always too impatient to let them cool, although I always warn cooks in my books to cool the soup first.) But with the immersion blender one can plunge it into the pot of hot soup and let those tiny little blades rip. In a matter of a few minutes the chunky mixture is transformed into a smooth puree.

Then came time to taste. I liked the cumin and pumpkin flavor, both were subtle, but detectable. But I thought the tomato taste was a little weak. So I added a tablespoon of tomato paste. I'm a great believer in tomato paste. It is the not so secret ingredient in many of my recipes. It adds a pleasant salty edge, a bit of acid to brighten the taste, and a certain concentrated depth and richness to soups, sauces and stews. What I do to accommodate my frequent use of a tablespoon or two here and there is once a can (the small size is 6 ounces) is opened, I drop level tablespoons on a sheet of foil, place the foil in the freezer until the blobs of tomato paste are frozen hard, then peel them off and put them in a self closing quart size freezer bag. I always stash them in the same place in the freezer so I can find them easily when needed. I've been doing this for years. Not sure where I learned it, but it sure is a handy tip. (I have a cook friend who swears by tubes of tomato paste found in many grocers. That is another solution to keeping small amounts of tomato paste handy.)

But, back to the soup. The tomato paste and another 15 minutes simmering helped to smooth out the flavors in the soup. Just before serving I added a generous squirt of lemon juice to brighten the taste, just a little. One final taste and I thought the soup needed more of a "fat feel" in my mouth so I shredded some of my favorite Comte cheese and sprinkled it liberally over the top of the hot soup. It did the trick.

The soup was declared delicious by my long time husband and veteran recipe taster, John. Over the years, John has taste tasted his way through all (over 20) of my cookbooks. Bless his heart. He has a good appetite and I trust his palate.

I served the soup with toasted Comte cheese sandwiches on multi-grain bread and a fresh spinach salad. (John doesn't care for spinach, so he got some left over farmer's market organic broccolini-- the best I've ever tasted-- drizzled with good California olive oil and a squirt of Meyer lemon from a neighbor's tree.)

It was a great rainy night meal: Hot soup and toasted cheese sandwiches. A 21st century riff on Mom's tomato soup and toasted cheese (made from American slices, most likely) rainy day special.

Tomato and Pumpkin Soup with Shredded Comte Cheese

To make this a truly fresh soup (but, not as fast) roast butternut squash ahead, scrap it from the skins and mash with a fork. You will need about 1 3/4 cups mashed fresh cooked squash to substitute for the canned pureed pumpkin. To save preparation time, plan in advance and roast the squash a couple of days before you'll need it and refrigerate until ready to use. As a back up 1 box (10 ounces) thawed frozen pureed squash or 1 bag ( about 12 ounces) fresh squash chunks, steamed until tender, can be used in place of the canned pumpkin.

2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 cup chopped onion
1/2 cup chopped celery
1 teaspoon chopped garlic
1 tablespoons ground cumin
2 cups water
1 can (28 ounces) canned plum tomatoes or 2 1/2 pounds ripe juicy tomatoes, cored and coarsely chopped
1 can (15 ounces) pureed pumpkin (see headnote for fresh butternut squash and other substitutions)
1 tablespoon tomato paste
Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1/2 cup coarsely shredded Comte cheese

1. Combine the olive oil, onion and celery in a soup pot and cook, stirring occasionally, over medium to medium low heat, until the onions are golden, about 15 minutes. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute. Stir in the cumin and cook, stirring, about 45 seconds.

2. Add the water, cover, and heat to boiling. Add the tomatoes, pumpkin, tomato paste and salt, to taste. Puree the soup with the immersion blender. If you don't have an immersion blender, carefully transfer the soup, in batches, to a blender or food processor and process until pureed. Return the soup to the pot.

3. Cover and simmer the soup about 20 minutes. Taste and add more salt, if desired. Add a grinding of black pepper and the lemon juice. Ladle into bowls and mound about 1/4 cup of cheese in the center of each serving. Serve at once.

Makes 4 servings

Today I'm Cooking Dried Cannellini Beans

I cook dried beans on weekends when I plan to be hanging around the house-- or more precisely the kitchen-- where I can keep half an eye on them while they cook. I don't cook dried beans every weekend, but when I do I cook a big batch-- very slowly-- in the oven. Once cool I reserve half of the beans for a mid week meal and the other half go into the freezer, tightly sealed into quart sized self closing freezer bags, for meals at a later date.

My favorite dried bean is the cannellini bean. But if cannellini are not available my next choice is the large white kidney bean. (I also love a big flat lima-type bean called gigante, although they are sometimes hard to find.) It doesn't matter which bean you choose because this slow cook oven method for dried beans works for almost any variety.

I prefer this slow gentle oven cooked method to top of the stove boiled method because the oven cooking guarantees a calmer, almost cocoon-like atmosphere, in which the beans can slowly hydrate and cook to tender perfection. Once in the oven there is no opportunity--or need-- to stir them, which is a good thing. Stirring roughs up the beans causing them to shed their skins and turn mushy. Plus the slow, steady oven heat doesn't have the heat fluctuations between hard and slow simmer found in stove top cooking that causes the beans to loose their shape and break up. When oven baked beans are cooked tender each and everyone is perfectly shaped on the outside and soft and tender on the inside-- just like a cooked bean should be.

The extra beans stashed in the freezer retain their great taste, but because their texture softens from the freezing and thawing process, they're best used in soup (see the Tomato and White Bean Soup with Spinach Pesto) or in a white bean puree (recipe coming soon) to spread on toasted bread topped with cooked greens and garlic chips (another recipe coming).

But, today I'd like to tell you how I cook the beans. First, the night before, I place the beans (about 3 cups or 1 1/2 pounds) in a large bowl and add water to cover by at least 2 inches. (The soaked beans will almost double in bulk.) Leave the beans to soak overnight in a cool place. If the kitchen is warm (not ours!) put the bowl in a cooler place in the house, or better yet, in the refrigerator. The next day drain the beans and place them in a large deep oven-proof casserole or Dutch oven. I use my mid sized Le Creuset. Add fresh water almost to cover, but not quite. Do not add salt until the beans are fully cooked. (Expert cooks claim it toughens the skins and I have found this to be my experience, too.) Instead I season the cooking water with a leafy celery top, a thick slice or wedge of onion, a couple of peeled and bruised (hit them with the side of a knife) garlic cloves, a few whole black peppercorns, a bay leaf or two (use Turkish bay leaves, I find the California bay too aromatic) and drizzle with about 2 tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil. Then cover the casserole or pot, tightly, place in the oven, set the oven temperature at 350 degrees, and the timer for 1 hour. When the hour is up, the beans will most likely not be cooked, but check them just the same. The cooking time will vary depending on the "dryness" of the beans which is determined by their age. Older beans (still good) will take much longer (probably 2 hours, sometimes longer) to cook. Freshly dried beans will cook in less time (about 1 hour).

To gauge the remaining cooking time, taste one of the beans. If it is still hard, they'll need at least 1 more hour of cooking. If it is a little soft, but not soft enough, they'll need about 30 minutes more. Oh, and while the beans are out of the oven check the amount of water. There should be water visible near the top of the beans. If not, add enough very hot, almost boiling water, so that you can see the level of water through the beans.

Then the beans go back in the oven until they're tender. Beans cannot be rushed, so keep yourself occupied with other chores and the beans--guaranteed-- will eventually cook.

Once the beans test tender to the bite they're done. Gently fold (use a rubber spatula, not a metal spoon because the metal will break beans) in 2 teaspoons of coarse salt. Then return the cover and let the beans cool in their liquid. The beans will absorb some of the liquid as they cool. To use the beans immediately lift them from the liquid with a slotted spoon. Save the liquid. It makes a great "bean stock" for soup.

Toasted Quinoa with Spinach, Toasted Walnuts and Parmesan

This is what we are having for dinner tonight:

(You can watch me make this delicious F&F dish on View from the Bay with Spencer Christian.)

Toasted Quinoa Stirred with Spinach, Toasted Walnuts and Parmesan Cheese

Quinoa is botanically an herb although it is always grouped in with grains. It is quick cooking and has a sweet mild taste and a pleasant crunch. Serve as a side dish with sautéed onions and fresh herbs, stir into soups to thicken and enrich, add to salads, or try it—instead of rice—in this simple stirred dish that is reminiscent of “pilaf”.

1 cup quinoa
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 teaspoon grated or crushed garlic
1 ¾ cups hot water
½ teaspoon coarse salt
½ cup broken walnuts
2 cups packed (about 8 ounces) tender spinach, stems trimmed, torn into 1 inch pieces
1 cup tri-color grape or petite cherry tomatoes
½ cup grated Parmigiano Reggiano
Torn basil leaves (optional garnish)

1. Place the quinoa in small bowl; add water to cover; swish to rinse; pour into fine mesh strainer; drain well.

2. Preheat oven to 350°F. Spread damp quinoa on rimmed sheet pan and roast until toasted, about 15 minutes.

3. Heat quinoa, oil and garlic in a medium skillet over low heat and cook, stirring, until coated with oil, about 30 seconds. Add water and salt, stir over high heat until boiling. Reduce heat and cook, covered, over medium low heat, until all of the water is absorbed and the quinoa has burst open and is fluffy, 18 to 20 minutes.

4. Meanwhile spread the walnuts in a small skillet and stir over medium low heat until toasted, about 5 minutes. Set aside.

5. When quinoa is cooked add spinach and tomatoes to the skillet. Cook, stirring, over medium heat until spinach is almost wilted and tomatoes are warmed, about 1 minute. Stir in walnuts and cheese. Garnish with basil and serve.

Makes 4 servings

Tomato and White Bean Soup with Spinach Pesto

This is what we’re having for dinner tonight:

My Fresh & Fast Vegetarian Kitchen depends heartily on thick vegetable based soups. Through experimentation I've come to the conclusion that vegetable stocks--either boxed or homemade--aren't always necessary. If you begin your soup by slowly cooking chopped vegetables in olive oil until golden and then add water you'll have a quite nice light broth almost instantly. My winter vegetable soup repertoire is always evolving as I try new combos that are often inspired by what happens to be on hand in my vegetable drawer or at the market on any particular day. The following soup is especially simple. I suggest several variations in the lengthy head note preceding the recipe. I think it can almost be called Tomato and White Bean Soup, Several Ways.

Tomato and White Bean Soup with Spinach Pesto

For this easy, but hearty, soup I like to use the beans I’ve cooked ahead from dried and stashed in my freezer. Freezing gives the beans a soft which is perfect for soups. Canned beans on the other hand can be firm--great for salads--but not as great for soup. The softness of the frozen beans adds a thicker, richer consistency. If you happen to be using canned beans, I suggest mashing them slightly with a fork before adding to the soup.To make the spinach pesto I like to use my big granite mortar and pestle. There is something about the rhythm of pounding that I find soothing, at least in the kitchen. But for those of you who are happily "plugged in" please feel free to use the food processor or blender. Also, if preferred, make a traditional pesto with basil leaves. This is perfect when there are big bunches in our markets or backyard herb garden. And in a pinch you could buy prepared pesto sold in the refrigerated section of many grocers, usually somewhere near the fresh pasta sauces. Another option, and one I use, especially when I'm out of time or energy is to skip the pesto idea, and simply stir 1 bag (5 ounces) baby spinach leaves into the hot soup just before serving. If not using the pesto top each bowl with orange gremolata made by finely chopped one garlic clove, 2 leafy sprigs of Italian parsley and one strip, about 1/2 inch x 3 inches, of orange zest. A light sprinkling of grated Parmigiano Reggiano cheese is also good.

2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 cup chopped onion
2 garlic cloves, minced or grated on a micro plane
3 cups water
1 can (28 ounces) diced tomatoes
1 sprig fresh basil
1 ¾ cups cooked or canned (15 ounce can, drained and rinsed) cannellini or other white beans
1 teaspoon coarse salt
Freshly ground black pepper

Spinach Pesto:
2 tablespoons toasted pignoli, chopped almonds or chopped walnuts
2 garlic cloves
½ teaspoon coarse salt
2 cups loosely packed baby spinach leaves
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons grated Parmigiano Reggiano, optional

1. Heat the oil in a large wide saucepan over low heat until hot enough to sizzle the onion. Saute the onion, stirring, over medium heat, until golden, about 10 minutes. Stir in the garlic and cook 1 minute.

2. Add the water, tomatoes, basil and salt; heat to a boil. Stir in the beans. Cover and cook over low heat 20 minutes. Add a generous grinding of black pepper.

3. Spinach Pesto: To toast the nuts place in a small skillet over medium low heat and heat, stirring, until toasted to a light golden brown, 3 to 5 minutes. Transfer to the mortar. Add the garlic and salt and pound with the pestle until nuts and garlic are reduced to a paste. Add half of the spinach leaves, pounding until reduced to a paste. Add the remaining leaves and continue to pound, and stir, until all the leaves are reduced to a paste. Gradually stir in the olive oil. Add the cheese, if using.

4. To serve ladle the hot soup into bowls. Add a spoonful of the pesto to each bowl, dividing evenly.

Makes 4 servings

Fresh & Fast Vegetarian (Houghton Mifflin, 2011)

Introduction

Welcome to my blog: Marie Simmons Vegetarian Tonight

I'm calling my blog Marie Simmons Cooks Vegetarian Tonight because that's how I'm cooking these days. Lots of vegetables, grains, beans, nuts. A little cheese. The occasional egg. Fish once or twice a week. But less and less meat. Fresh & Fast (with the ampersand) Vegetarian is the working title of my new cookbook project.

The crazy thing is I'm obviously not a strict vegetarian. I'm not strict anything. I hate the word strict. But, I sure love to cook vegetables. In fact I love to cook them so much my husband and I eat meat only about once a week. For our vegetarian meals I do what I call, "Make a Plate" as I balance flavors, textures, colors, tastes and nutritional needs.

We eat lots of vegetables prepared in a variety of ways. Olive oil is my fat of choice. Garlic, used judiciously, adds great flavor. And, I always add a starch. Sometimes its potatoes, beans, polenta, or pasta. But these days its is more often an exotic rice--red or black rice--or other grain like quinoa, bulgur, farro, or barley. I use hard cooked eggs and cheese and nuts in moderation, often as an edible garnish. We never leave the table hungry.

As I work on my book and delve deeper and deeper into the endless options for meals without meat, I'll share some of my insights, discoveries, and recipes through my blog postings.

Cooking for me is a normal as breathing, no matter what the cuisine. My kitchen is always a happy place. Surrounded by my ingredients, pots and pans, favorite knives and other tools, listening to my local NPR station (KQED) I spend my day between my kitchen and my office cooking, researching and writing. The remainder of my time I spend shopping for ingredients.

I am blessed to be living in the San Francisco Bay Area where we are surrounded by agriculture and have access to dozens of markets. The local farmer's markets are my favorite places to shop. We have one near our home (at the El Cerrito Plaza) and others in Berkeley that are always an inspiration.

I've never actually put my fingers on my pulse, but quite honestly I think it speeds up when I walk these markets. Week after week I feel the same excitement when I see the awesome array of fresh fruits and vegetables, the freshly caught seafood, the artisan cheese makers and the talented bakers. We even have the most fabulous fresh tofu (Hodo Soy in Oakland) that sells their luscious creamy freshly made "bean to block" organic tofu (including yuba the skin that forms on top of the fresh pressed soy milk that is considered a delicacy) both plain and made into delicious take away prepared foods.

Shopping the market is where I get the inspiration for my recipe development. I walk from stall to stall sharply focused my head busily deciding what vegetables will go with which and how I'll cook, season and serve them once I'm at home.

As the seasons change the colors at the market change, but the selection somehow never diminishes. Now that it is late fall and will soon be winter I'm selecting heady soft stem broccoli, all kinds of dark leafy greens, an array of winter squash, sweet potatoes, tight, tiny heads of cauliflower and peppers in every color that move along the flavor spectrum from spicy to sweet. The quince, apples and pears have carved out their place at the market. And the fabulous mushrooms--sometimes more than a half dozen different types to select from--are always a must purchase. Mushrooms and leafy greens are often the centerpiece of one of our weekly all vegetable meals.

Food obviously makes me happy. And this is a good thing, as I've spent the last couple of decades writing cookbooks (over 20, but who's counting), hundreds of food articles in major national magazines and local newspapers, teaching cooking classes throughout the US, and developing thousands of recipes.

I don't take my success--or my passion for food-- for granted. I'm sincerely grateful that I've been lucky enough to harness this passion and turn it into a career. And, I'm especially excited to be embarking on this vegetarian journey.