Healthful cooking 101

Vegetarian Times, July, 1996 by Catherine Censor Shemo

With the soup busy simmering, Tim put the yams in the oven to bake. I thought he'd forgotten to prick them all over with a fork (something I'd never forget to do because I was taught that baked potatoes behave like grenades unless properly vented) but he explained the apparent oversight: "I've never seen an unpricked yam explode in the oven," he said. "In fact, I've never had anything explode in the oven." I just knew the kitchen gods would get him for his hubris--and I was right.

When Tim went to check on the soup, he discovered the split peas were sticking to the bottom of the pot. I expected him to stir it and let us cope with a few burnt bits. Instead, he just turned off the heat and waited. "They'll float back up to the surface if they're not burnt yet," he said. Sure enough, that's just what they did. Tim turned the heat back on and resumed simmering. If they had been burnt beyond rescue, Tim explained, he'd just pour the pot contents into a fresh pot. The burned crud would stick to the pot bottom and the poured-off soup would be saved. As I savored my delicious soup, I marveled at Tim's professionalism and wondered if I could afford a heavy-duty soup pot.

DAY TWO

It was student participation day and I had my 8-inch chef 'sknife in my mesh tote bag. Since I took public transportation, I got to live out that secret fantasy of all New Yorkers: Carrying a big, deadly weapon on the subway. Learning to cook can be deeply gratifying.

The receptionist at The Natural Gourmet handed me photocopies of today's recipes, which I scanned while waiting for class. We had Aduki Squash Stew, Greens With Garlic Dressing, Zucchini Non-Dairy Cream Soup, Kasha With Spicy Peanut Sauce, and Oatmeal Raisin Cookies.

Surprisingly, the dairy-free soup was soy-free as well. "Creamy" soup usually has something in it to mimic the texture and taste of dairy. That something is typically soy or some kind of creamy-textured vegetable such as pureed squash or potatoes. This soup had nothing but onion, oil, carrots, zucchini, rolled oats, water and a few seasonings. I wondered how Tim would pull this one off.

As concerned as I was about Tim and the non-dairy soup, I was more concerned about my role in class participation. Our job as students was to watch Tim as he cut a vegetable into a specific shape (say, half-moons for radish or 1/4-inch dice for carrot) and then to do likewise with our own bowl of vegetables. Each bowl contained just one type of vegetable and I knew that I was destined to end up with the butternut squash.

I once spent three hours trying to peel and cube one of those squashes. I ruined two vegetable peelers, two knives (one of the blades snapped off and got lodged in the squash), and contracted a rash that caused the skin on my hands to peel of fin strips. I only resumed eating butternut when my supermarket started selling prepeeled, halved, shrink-wrapped squash.

I watched Tim's demonstration. He got rid of the tough rind with a sturdy peeler and then used his chefs knife to slice the squash into thick horizontal slabs, which he then deftly cubed. The whole operation took him 3 minutes. Now, I knew, it would be my turn. To my delight, Tim put the butternut bowl in front of Bob--nd gave me some onions to dice. Bob studied the butternut like a concerned surgeon and regarded his knife, an old cleaver with a handle held together with tape. Tim noted Bob's hesitation and switched our bowls.