What does your refrigerator look like? I opened mine a few months ago and found something akin to a forgotten Smithsonian warehouse, a hodgepodge collection of moldy, shriveled leftovers. The mess–some of it slimy, some of it stinky, most of it expired–reflected the disarray of my cooking habits.
I was tired of wasting food. I was tired of not being able to cook without a recipe, buying more and more ingredients that were used once and never touched again. I couldn’t go to the grocery store without doing a doctoral dissertation’s worth of research beforehand. I’d buy all the ingredients for several meals, then forget which recipes I had chosen. That lovely bunch of expensive watercress had invariably dissolved into a goopy mess by the time I noticed it in the corner of the crisper drawer.
Friends think I’m a good cook, but it’s not true. Sure, I can pull together pretty much any recipe you throw in my direction, but that’s not the hard part. Real cooks don’t need recipes. Real cooks know how to taste along the way and make their own adjustments, their own substitutions, their own courageous flourishes.
I found my path to redemption in An Everlasting Meal: Cooking with Economy and Grace, by Tamar Adler. Much more than a cookbook, Adler’s philosophy brings us back to the basics of food preparation, nurturing creativity, reducing reliance on recipes, and teaching us to bring all of our senses to the experience of both cooking and eating.
My first step in putting Adler’s prescriptions into motion is to clean out the refrigerator. Once I purge every expired container (furry sour cream, moldy tomato paste, crusty hummus) and clear out the produce drawers (mushy cucumber, shriveled strawberries, petrified limes), I am ready for a fresh start. And no, my husband never did eat the chili leftovers he swore he would get to if I just left the container there a little longer.
I buy a case of mason jars. I go to the farmer’s market and grab whatever looks interesting. I come home, turn on the oven, take out my rimmed baking sheets and baking pans, and start chopping everything into cubes and florets.
Broccoli pieces are on one sheet, cauliflower pieces are on another, butternut squash on another, root vegetables (carrots, turnips, rutabagas) can be mixed if you’d like. Everything gets drizzled with olive oil and sprinkled with kosher salt; sprigs of fresh thyme or unpeeled garlic cloves can also be thrown into the mix. Beets are scrubbed and nestled whole into their own baking dish, then are slipped into a free corner of the oven.
All the racks of the oven are in use, appealing to my economist’s sense of efficiency. As soon as one tray comes out, something else can go in. After the vegetables are chopped, you can move on to pulling stale bread into bite-sized chunks to roast into croutons, or add a small tray of walnuts to toast.
Once things are cooked up and cooled off, each gets stored in its own sparkling mason jar. You can see the end-result in today’s photo. When I open my refrigerator now, I am met with a jewelry box of ingredients for the coming week’s meal creations. This is only the start, of course, the assembly of the building blocks as described in just one chapter of Adler’s multi-layered book.
When I asked myself why I was so moved and inspired by An Everlasting Meal, I realized it went beyond bringing order to the chaos of my refrigerator. Adler’s approach offered yet another way to practice presence, enriching our awareness of life’s textures, aromas and tastes, deepening our appreciation of the journey.
I’ll be writing more about mindful cooking (and eating!) over the next couple of weeks. I’d love to hear about your own experiences. Have you ever had a verging-on-spiritual experience from an exquisite bite of food?
Katherine says
I’ve never baked vegetables in the oven (except in a casserole). I will be interested to hear how this turns out! Why Mason jars? Do the veggies last longer than in Tupperware? Or is it more for visual aesthetics? Theyvlook gorgeous!
Martha says
I think Tupperware works as well from a preservation standpoint, but the jars (which Adler recommended) make it a lot easier to see what’s in there and are just more inviting to pull out and use. I also like how they use space vertically in the refrigerator. I find when my Tupperware containers are stacked, I’m less likely to pull them out to see what’s inside. Stay tuned for what I’ve been doing with the building blocks!
Alys Milner says
Great post! I’m inspired. I can picture those jars in my own fridge. I hate the amount of food we toss into our compost bin, uneaten and spoiled.
What great ideas.
Elke says
Martha, I know what you are writing about the leftover in the refrigerator. But I don’t understand what a ” a verging-on-spiritual experience” is. Anyway, very often I found that cooking with leftovers is wonderful – it is really creative. And I loved cooing when we used to go camping. Cooking outdoors with little equipment, with lots of time and having a glass of wine while preparing dinner was great. We once caught our own fish and I prepared it and felt so close to nature. I was often so happy eating the meal afterwards and wondered why so much equipment is needed at home. Already bying the ingredients on French and Italian markets gave me so much ideas what to cook. Just a few days ago I bought zuccini flowers for the first time in France and the guy gave me the recipe how to prepare them. Not only did I get nice flower but also a nice chat and a new idea for dinner….just a small adventure..
I try not to plan too far ahead and buy too much food anymore. I rather shop more frequently nowadays.
Thanks for your wonderful texts and photos.
Martha says
Great to connect with you here, Elke! You are the perfect example of the truly excellent and gifted cook. Your description here alone proves it, but I can attest to it myself from personal experience. I miss those times around your lovely table in Stuttgart (the table itself was lovely, but it was the food, oh the food, that earned a permanent place among my “best memories”). No doubt your extensive travels have enriched your cooking skills over the years, but it’s your creativity, curiosity, and courage when it comes to cooking that are your true gifts. And as for that “verging-on-spiritual experience” reference, what I meant was, have you ever tasted anything so good that it brought all of your senses to another level, taking you out of your normal state of being to some higher place? For me it happened a couple of weeks ago when I bit into a grilled peach. Indescribable.
Elke says
Hi Martha….you made my day!!!!Thank you so much.
Oh yes, Martha, I remember a grey stormy November day and my family and me had an extensive hike in the woods of “Hunsrück”…near Koblenz. At the end of it we sat down in the very simple guest room of a goat farm where a fire was warming us, feeling sooo relaxed after our physical training and had a variety of fresh goat cheese with different spices and warm Turkish bread…….it is still mouthwatering when I think about it.
Martha says
Making your day makes my own day, Elke. And your description of the goat farm meal is a perfect example of a verging-on-spiritual experience. My son and I stayed at an organic goat farm in Bavaria/Bayern for a weekend shortly before we left Germany, when he was about 10 years old (it was his idea!). We also had wonderful meals there. He got to feed the goats, help make cheese, and, while at it, fell a little bit in love with the pink-cheeked hippie farm girl in purple overalls, red curly hair piled on her head. I’ll never forget her either!