Ann Gentry is the creator and founder of Real Food Daily (RFD), a mecca for organic, vegan cuisine in Los Angeles, where she and her staff serve up delicious, plant-based food to celeb devotees including Alicia Silverstone, Ellen DeGeneres, and Conan O’Brien. The executive chef to Vegetarian Times magazine, and star of her own cooking show, Naturally Delicious, Gentry is also the author of The Real Food Daily Cook Book. Her new cookbook, Vegan Family Meals: Real Food For Everyone, just out this week, offers more than 100 tasty recipes. I recently had the pleasure of speaking with Gentry about cooking for families, raising children vegetarian, and why she believes in feeding people whole, natural food.  

What’s a Southern girl like you doing in a vegan joint in Hollywood?

I’m from Tennessee, and like most people, grew up eating the Standard American Diet, only Southern style. People ate a lot of meat, everything was fried, and no one questioned frozen or packaged food. When I moved to New York City in the 1980s to pursue an acting career, I worked in a natural foods restaurant and that experience had a big impact on me. I became interested in the cause and effect relationship between my body and the food I ate. But mostly, I just felt really good eating whole food. When I moved to Los Angeles in the late 1980s, I worked as a personal chef to actor/director Danny DeVito, and later had a home delivery service before I opened the first RFD restaurant in 1993. I base my cooking on macrobiotics (a diet based on whole grains and vegetables), which taught me the connection between diet and health. I’ve been vegetarian and vegan on and off for three decades; these days I eat a small amount of dairy and fish.

What about cooking for families appeals to you?

I thought the RFD cookbook would be my one and only. But, I realized I had another book in me after I had two children (a daughter, Halle, twelve, and a son, Walker, eight) and began feeding my family out of my own home kitchen. I wanted to create a book with very simple and tasty recipes. The central theme of this book is family and who is around your table and it doesn’t have to be kids. Your family is your friends, neighbors, colleagues, and even just yourself. I want people to sit down and eat together in a healthy and delicious way. The focus is on texture, color, cooking methods, simplicity of ingredients, accessibility—you can find most of the ingredients in your own pantry. I grew up sitting down to a meal of protein centered in the plate with several side dishes. People are busy and don’t have time to make all of that food now. In this book, you can learn to make a whole meal out of salad, which is my favorite way to eat, and you can be completely nourished and satisfied.

Your family helped you with this book. What is like raising kids vegetarian and/or vegan?

I’m lucky because my husband is as committed, if not more, than I am to eating well. We keep a vegan household, though sometimes we have goat ice cream or yogurt, and the kids eat what we eat. My daughter breastfed and was vegan for first two years of her life and then she became vegetarian, and now she’s exploring food. She is sort of a radical vegan, who understands what it means to kill an animal. Children do. It will be interesting to see if my kids will rebel against it and if they do, I’m not going to stand in their way. I made a conscious decision that I don’t want to be the mother who follows her kids around with “special” food, though I do appreciate families whose children have allergies.

Why is eating less meat important?

I try to never preach and knock people over the head with a vegan message. Veganism is a noble cause, but most people aren’t going to become vegan or vegetarian. That doesn’t mean they don’t seek out and want more grain-based food in their lives. I’m hopeful that the more grains and vegetables people eat, the more they will want to eat this way. And times have changed. People are eating less meat due to the horrible practices involved with industrial animal agriculture and also for their health and the environment. And there are a lot of vegetarians who are living on processed tofu meat-like products. While I do include recipes in the book with tofu, tempeh, and nondairy cheese, I’m not trying to replicate flavors or textures of meat. I’m much more interested in getting people to eat whole, unprocessed food.

You were one of the first restauranteurs to commit to organics. Why is organic important to you?

Choosing fruits and vegetables that are grown organically in pesticide-free soil is the best thing you can do for yourself and your family. My dollars go toward supporting small family farms and keeping chemicals off my plate, out of my body, and out of the environment. Nearly everything we have at RFD is almost 100 percent organic. We bite the bullet and pay the extra cost for organic ingredients because we believe it is better for our customers and the planet. When we first opened, I went to the Santa Monica farmers’ market twice a week, and I have longterm relationships with some incredibly committed organic farmers, including Bill McGrath, Coastal Organics, Burkhart, Maggie’s farm, and Del Cabo—Larry Jacobs is my brother-in-law, and we love using his cherry tomatoes in our guacamole.

What’s your take on MyPlate?

From my perspective, USDA’s MyPlate represents a shift in the right direction from prior recommendations, but that’s not saying much. Let’s face it, the agency has a stated purpose to promote the sale of agribusiness products. Leaving my cynicism behind, I do like that fruits, vegetables, and grains comprise three-fourths of MyPlate. But why did they stop at half? Mostly likely because the cereal manufactures won the day at that negotiation. Madison Avenue has convinced America that whole grains come from a cereal box. The inclusion of “protein” as a “food group” is an obvious win for the meat industry’s lobbyists.   These guys have spent big bucks for generations convincing Americans that protein is the flesh of a dead animal. For the most part, they have succeeded. So now we have  ”official” guidelines with their “code word” taking up one-fourth of the plate.  On the positive side, beans, peas, nuts and seeds make the list of “protein foods.” The fact is, all plants contain plenty of protein for a healthy diet and American’s over consume protein, which many experts say contributes to depletion of calcium.  Eating more calcium will never overcome the problem of bone loss and I’d like to see that cup of dairy on the side of MyPlate fed back to the calves as the mama cow had intended. Obviously, the dairy industry’s lobbyists earned their pay here.

One of Gentry’s favorite recipes from her new book follows. On Tuesday, June 21, she will be cooking up some vegan fare and discussing her new book at 18 Reasons in San Francisco.

Lasagna Rolls with Tofu Ricotta and Everyday Tomato Sauce

This is a fun way to serve lasagna: Instead of the traditional layering, you top the individual noodles with a vegan ricotta cheese and vegetable mixture and roll it up. My tofu ricotta cheese is a blend of tofu, miso, and tahini, which creates a creamy consistency that easily spreads. The tomato sauce takes no more than 10 minutes to make; if there is any left over, use it the next day over rice or noodles. Serves 6 (makes 12 rolls)

2½ tablespoons olive oil
2 onions, thinly sliced
6 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons chopped fresh basil
1 teaspoon fine sea salt
½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
3 medium carrots, peeled and cut into ¼-inch pieces
2 zucchini, cut into ¼-inch pieces
1 head broccoli, stems removed and florets finely chopped
2 cups Tofu Ricotta Cheese (recipe follows)
12 eggless lasagna noodles
3 cups Everyday Tomato Sauce (recipe follows)

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Heat 1 tablespoon of the oil in a large, heavy frying pan over medium-high heat. Add the onions, garlic, basil, salt, and pepper. Sauté until the onions are tender, about 10 minutes. Add the carrots, zucchini, and broccoli and sauté until the carrots are crisp-tender, about 12 minutes. Let cool completely. Mix the vegetable mixture into the tofu ricotta cheese.

Cook the noodles in a large pot of boiling salted water, stirring often, until tender, about 10 minutes. Drain and rinse the noodles, then toss them with 1 tablespoon of the remaining oil to prevent the noodles from sticking together.

Coat a 13 by 9 by 2-inch baking dish with the remaining 1½ teaspoons oil. Spread 1 cup of the tomato sauce on the bottom of the dish. Using a spatula, spread about ½ cup of the vegetable mixture over each lasagna sheet, leaving about ½ inch of each end uncovered. Roll up each sheet tightly and place it seam-side-down in the baking dish. Pour the remaining 2 cups tomato sauce over the lasagna rolls.

Cover the dish with aluminum foil. Bake until the sauce bubbles, about 55 minutes. Remove the foil and continue baking for 15 minutes.

***

Tofu Ricotta Cheese

When blended, the tofu gives this vegan cheese a creamy consistency that resembles ricotta. This recipe is borrowed from my first book, The Real Food Daily Cookbook—when you have a good recipe, why change it?  Makes about 3 cups

(14-ounce) container waterpacked firm tofu, drained and  cut into quarters
²⁄3 cup yellow miso
²⁄3 cup water
½ cup tahini
¼ cup olive oil
5 large garlic cloves
1½ teaspoons dried basil
1½ teaspoons dried oregano
¾ teaspoon sea salt

Blend all the ingredients in a food processor until smooth. The cheese will keep for 2 days, covered and refrigerated.

***

Everyday Tomato Sauce

This is a perfect, simple tomato sauce. The key is to use canned crushed tomatoes, easily found in a grocery or natural foods store. Eden and Glen Muir are my favorite brands because they are organic.
Makes about 4 cups

¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil
4 shallots, thinly sliced
3 cloves garlic, minced
½ teaspoon fine sea salt
1 (28-ounce) can crushed tomatoes
1 cup water
2 tablespoons chopped fresh basil
1 teaspoon chopped fresh oregano

Heat the olive oil in a heavy saucepan over medium-high heat. Add the shallots, garlic, and salt and sauté until fragrant, about 20 seconds. Stir in the tomatoes and the 1 cup water. Bring to a gentle simmer, then decrease the heat to low and simmer gently, stirring occasionally, for 20 minutes, to allow the flavors to blend. Stir in the basil and oregano. Remove from the heat.

—From Vegan Family Meals by Ann Gentry/Andrews McMeel Publishing

Many people consider Thanksgiving a marathon. For my large family who entertains all year long for the Jewish holidays, it’s more of a brief jog around the block. When I was a kid, my family of six often cooked and ate meals with my aunt, uncle and my four cousins who lived across the street. In my world, cooking a turkey feast for 20 is called Sunday Dinner.

You may think we are a family of trained chefs or, at the very least, had some extra help. But neither was the case. The adults realized early on that they had a crew of sous chefs already in-house. They may be barely three feet tall, but kids are often an incredible source of energy, creativity, and assistance in the kitchen.

People don’t always believe me when I tell them that I teach kids as young as two years how to cook. Yet, historically, children have participated in many aspects of food preparation from planting and harvesting crops to prepping and cooking multi-course meals. The frustration many modern parents feel during meal time, when their kids reject dinner or won’t come to the table, can often be alleviated by simply including them in the meal preparation. Kids feel good when they have a job. And they especially love the idea of feeding other people. Cooking together is also an excellent way to expand their palates and expose them to nutritious foods.

Thanksgiving is the perfect time of year to get everyone in the kitchen–even the little ones can be given simple tasks like juicing a lemon or mashing potatoes.

It’s a win-win for everyone. The adults have extra help in the kitchen, kids get to feel important while learning something new, and everyone gets to spend quality time together.

Here are a couple of recipes from my new cookbook, Easy Meals to Cook with Kids, along with instructions on how to include kids of all ages in preparing two tasty appetizers.

Tangy Tzatziki (Cucumber and Yogurt Dip)

If kids can dip it, they’ll eat it! This kid-friendly dish tastes better the longer it marinates, so plan on making it a day or two before your holiday meal. Traditional tzatziki calls for draining the yogurt and cucumber for at least half an hour but this is a much quicker recipe and turns out just as good.

1 cup plain whole milk yogurt or Greek yogurt
½ cup sour cream
½ English cucumber, grated (about 1 cup)
1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar
2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice (about 1 lemon)
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 teaspoon garlic, minced (about 1 clove)
2 teaspoons fresh dill, chopped (or 1 teaspoon dried)
½ teaspoon kosher salt or sea salt
Freshly ground pepper to taste

KIDS 6 and up: Drain the yogurt of excess liquid by carefully tipping the container
over the sink. Scoop the yogurt into a medium-sized bowl, add the sour cream, and stir.

KIDS 2 and up: Gather the grated cucumber into your fists and squeeze out as much liquid as you can until it’s drained of moisture. Add the cucumber to the yogurt and sour cream mixture. Stir in the vinegar, lemon juice, olive oil, garlic, dill, salt, and pepper and combine well. Serve immediately at room temperature with Crispy Pita Chips or marinate in the refrigerator for a few hours so that the flavors blend.

Prep time: 20 minutes Total time: 20 minutes
Yields: 2 cups
Recipe from Easy Meals to Cook with Kids by Julie Negrin © 2010

Crispy Pita Chips

2 whole-wheat or white pita pockets
3 tablespoons olive oil
Kosher salt or sea salt to taste
Optional: minced garlic or dried herbs such as oregano, basil, parsley

ADULTS: Preheat the oven to 350ºF degrees.

KIDS 8 and up: On a cutting board, carefully slice each pita into eight triangle-shapes with
a pizza cutter or a knife. Pull each triangle in half so that one pita pocket will yield a total of
16 pieces. Lay the pita pieces close together on a greased baking sheet (or one lined with
parchment paper). Pour the olive oil into a small bowl.

KIDS 2 and up: Brush each piece of pita generously with olive oil using a pastry brush.
Sprinkle with salt (and herbs and garlic, if using).

ADULTS: Bake the chips for 12-14 minutes, or until crispy and golden-brown around the
edges. Store the pita chips in a sealed container or bag at room temperature for up to 4 days.

Prep time: 10 minutes Total time: 25 minutes
Yields: 32 chips
Recipe from Easy Meals to Cook with Kids by Julie Negrin © 2010

As a long-time regular of Angelica Kitchen restaurant in New York City, I’ve come to consider it a “second kitchen,” a place I feel good about supporting because it shares the values I keep in my own kitchen: High quality ingredients that provide a fair income to farmers who are working to protect the environment–and which provide nutrition without sacrificing any of the flavor–all for the reasonable cost afforded by buying direct.

And I am not alone. Since it opened its door in 1976, Angelica Kitchen has cultivated a loyal following, and their sustainable business model–maintained without serving alcohol (you can BYOB)–is a case study for success outside of the mainstream restaurant industry. Angelica’s is also one of the most popular vegetarian restaurants in New York City, precisely because it attracts a clientele that includes many non-vegetarians. In honor of Vegetarian Awareness Month, I spoke with owner Leslie McEachern–who is being awarded for her long-time advocacy of small, local farms by the Northeast Organic Farming Association this month–about running a restaurant built on relationships.

With over thirty years in New York City, why do you think Angelica Kitchen has been such a success?

We’ve earned the trust of people who are seeking out a plant-based diet. I think people have experienced the satisfaction of eating really fresh organic ingredients and having their body respond well to that, because we’ve really focused on a balanced, nutritional whole foods diet at Angelica. All of the thought that has gone into providing a balanced, whole food meal, especially with the quality of the ingredients from the farmers, I think people just respond well to it sometimes without even knowing why.

Why did Angelica Kitchen decide to be vegan from the outset?

The three guys who started the restaurant were very much into the whole macrobiotic scene. And even though macrobiotic is not vegan, I think they were interested in as clean a diet as possible, and a plant-based diet to them was the way to go.

Why did you decide to maintain Angelica’s as a vegan restaurant?

I had been a vegetarian for over 10 years at that time, and actually, I’d been living out of the woods in North Carolina for six years, out of a little hut with no electricity, no plumbing or anything. I’d been living on a very straight-forward plant-based diet, just living very close to the land. Then I moved to New York all of a sudden because I fell in love with a guy–the guy who owned Angelica’s. So it never even occurred to me to shift away from what was going on because philosophically I was already aligned, not only with seeking out the farmers which was happening when I got involved, but also because I felt it was an intelligent approach to having a restaurant in that neighborhood.

Who do you think Angelica Kitchen’s audience is?

I don’t try to appeal to anyone in specific. We don’t advertise, we’ve always been word-of-mouth. Back in the early 1980s, it was very much the neighborhood coming to the restaurant. When I built the restaurant on 12th Street, where we opened in 1988, there was a lot of education going on about “you are what you eat.” Now, people come from all over the world because there is such an interest in eating clean. And that has continued to grow. We don’t approach or make our menu to meet a certain need. We have our passion, which is really about whole foods, about supporting the local farmers–we support 24 different artisans and farmers year-round–and using their products to show off the plant-based menu.

Do you think there is more awareness now about food than there was when Angelica Kitchen opened in the 1970s?

There is a tremendous amount of awareness. I see people really making intelligent choices now about what they’re putting into their bodies. That’s a broad statement and I’m certainly not including all of western culture. Just the numbers of people that are coming into Angelica’s Kitchen, the number of people who are going to farmers’ markets, the number of books that are available about eating clean and eating well. Like my friend Marion Nestle, she’s written these great books, like Food Politics, What to Eat, and Safe Food–Marion has sold so many books. And I just don’t know that that would have been possible 20 years ago.

What made you decide to focus on organic food when you first got involved with Angelica’s?

My soul responds to nature. When I started reading Wendell Berry in the early 1970s, I found a voice for that. And once I’d found that voice, not only through his philosophical writings, his agricultural writings, his poetry and his novels, I was very inspired. Frank, the owner at the time [I got involved], had already been ordering from local, organic growers. I had always been in the natural foods business, and I had worked with a lot of organic ingredients before, and I knew where my heart stood on that matter. So I had the opportunity to get on my soapbox through my actions once I got involved with Angelica’s and say that this is what I feel is the best way to feed people. And so I continued to network to find the ingredients from local growers–organic, diversified, small, independent family farms.

Are there farmers that you’ve kept ties with since the beginning, that you’ve worked with for the past two decades?

Definitely. There are farmers who didn’t even have children then, whose children are now graduated from college. It’s very rewarding having long-term relationships with Guy Jones at Blooming Hill Farm, Mark Denau from Martin Dell Farm, and Lou Harris Farm up in the Finger Lakes. Getting to see the farmers when they bring their produce in on deliveries is a terrific bonus as far as doing this kind of business. In fact, those relationships are the very thing that keeps me inspired to keep going.

What is the most popular dish at the restaurant?

Through the years its definitely been the Dragon Bowl [steamed vegetables, sea vegetables, beans, rice and tofu with a choice of dressing], I think because we’re so close to NYU and its such a complete meal, and lots of times people eat half of it and take the other half home. And [the Wee Dragon] is under $10, and its a well-balanced meal when you are hungry.

You have been asked over the years to expand the restaurant to other locations–why have you said no?

Wendell Berry talks about having a sense of place. In a certain way I would love to see more people doing whole foods, fresh from farms. But the way I’m made up personally, I don’t want another restaurant. It’s really a lot of work to do it well. One of the problems that I came across was that most people who I’ve had this kind of conversation with were concerned only about the bottom line. You can’t do a restaurant like Angelica Kitchen if you are concerned just about the bottom line. Because you’re going to start cutting corners, you’re going to start paying staff less. We deliberately keep our prices low, and this is a point of contingence with people who would be interested in opening more Angelica Kitchens. Its a philosophical conflict for me to undo what I’ve tried to put out there as an example of what is possible to be done: a whole foods restaurant, without alcohol, that is serving the farmer, that is serving the public.

You’ve called yourself a “reluctant restaurateur.” What do you mean?

(Laughs) I think the best way that everyone could eat is to be at home and cook and eat with your friends and family. Ideally–again, how ideal is this world?–there wouldn’t be a need for a restaurant.

Below is a recipe from The Angelica Home Kitchen cookbook, which is available at the restaurant or through the Angelica Kitchen Web site. This stew is just right for the fall, features root vegetables and the fundamental ingredients of Japanese cuisine such as kombu, shoyu, ginger and rice wine (mirin). Enjoy!

Oden (Asian root vegetable stew)

2 teaspoons olive oil
2 cups diced onions
6 cups water
1 cup burdock, scrubbed and cut into 1-inch pieces
1 cups carrots, scrubbed and cut into 1-inch pieces
1 cup daikon, scrubbed and cut into 1-inch pieces
1 cup rutabagas, scrubbed and cut into 1-inch pieces
1 cup parsnips, scrubbed and cut into 1-inch pieces
4 to 6dry shiitake mushrooms
1 (3-inch) piece dried kombu
5 slices ginger, each the size of a quarter
1/2 cup shoyu or tamari
2 tablespoons mirin
1/4 cup kuzu
1 tablespoon toasted sesame oil
2 tablespoons sliced scallions for garnish

In a heavy saucepan, sauté the onions and burdock in the olive oil over medium heat for 10 minutes. Add six cups of water and bring to a boil over high heat. Add the carrots, daikon, rutabagas, parsnips, shiitake mushrooms, kombu, ginger, mirin and tamari. Lower the flame and simmer covered for 30 to 40 minutes or until the vegetables are tender. Remove ginger and discard. Remove kombu and shiitake mushrooms, slice into bite-size pieces, and return to the pot. Dissolve the kuzu in 1/4 cup cold water; stir into the stew and simmer for 1 or 2 minutes longer. stir in the sesame oil. NOTE: You should never cook with toasted sesame oil because high heat will release free radicals in the oil, making it toxic. Use toasted sesame oil as a last-minute addition; treat like a flavor enhancer such as salt or vinager. Serve with noodles or rice, accompanied by baked, marinated tofu, kimchee, and scallion garnish.

Photo: jwrkc via Flickr

With summer here, and the influx of both wild and planted harvestables gaining momentum, I am taking pause to compare season’s past with now.  Aside from what we’ve chosen for our garden, my typical food foraging generally takes place on my own property, harvesting native wild blackberries, volunteer plums, and miner’s lettuce and wild arugula for supple spring salads.  We’re also fortunate to have access to some prime mushroom hunting, and usually pull in a few pounds of porcini and chanterelles each year.

But this year is weird. A chilly, wet, and extra long spring delayed the growth of our starts.  Much of the seeds we purchased ended up being bunk, a huge disappointment especially since we appreciate the back-story of the heirloom company so much.  And we are still smack in the middle of constructing our home, taking away each spare moment that would otherwise be spent keeping up a farm.

And then there is work, the means to the end for all those visions and dreams of a future away from the office.  Which brings me to the main difference of this year from last.  I am not home enough to spend time harvesting my own space.  Instead, my day-to-day reality is in town, driving from workplace A to workplace B to sometimes workplace C.  Last year, I had more leisure to wander around the property, picking this and that and creating interesting dishes, salt mixes, teas, and jams from the loot.  Now, the part of my brain that is inspired by those lucky edible finds lurks behind a drearier headspace of computer screens, files, and phone calls.  But there still remains a glimmer of culinary motivation that blooms on those asphalt and brick laden drives.  Sometimes on the urban trail lies a gift, just waiting to be plucked, prepared, and appreciated.

This concept is nothing new, and in recent years the idea of gleaning excess produce has taken shape in organized efforts throughout the country.   In urban environments, gleaning projects are popping up as well, specifically in Portland, San Francisco’s Urban Gleaning Program in conjunction to the Department of Public Works, and the widely renowned Forage Oakland, spearheaded by Asiya Wadud, that is now seen as a model of true success in solving issues within our current wasteful food system.

My small city’s climate actually offers an abundance of produce, dripping from heavy branches and vines over gates and fences.  I’ve spied grapefruit, Meyer lemons, mulberries, plums, dandelion greens, and even Buddha’s hand citrus in one special front yard.  Along our coastline, people enthusiastically harvest muscles and seaweed.  But one of my favorites, that few seem to revere, is the loquat.  The pale yellow clusters of fuzzy orbs, juxtaposed against the tropical dark green leaves, always catch my eye.  Loquat trees are everywhere, once identified they seem to pop up on every route.  Many parts of the plant are edible, including the leaves that are often dried and brewed as a tea in several Asian cultures.  Some health benefit claims include blood sugar control and insulin production, the release of anti-oxidants, acts as a repertory expectorant, aids in digestion, decreases skin inflammation, and that the loquat has anti-viral properties.

But I love the fruit.  It’s a subtle, delicate sweetness, a firm texture coating large, glassy black seeds that feel like marbles on the tongue.  If I don’t simply enjoy them freshly picked out of my own hand, my second preference is to pickle them with a couple of cloves.  The brining and preserving turns them into something I can only describe as olive-like.  Here is a recipe for your next city harvest.

Pickled Loquats

6 Lbs. loquats
3 cups sugar
3 cups water
3 cups cider vinegar
Several whole cloves

Combine sugar, water, and vinegar in a large pot.  Tie the cloves loosely in cheesecloth and add.  Boil 10 minutes then remove spice bundle.  Alternately, you can simply drop 2 or 3 whole cloves into each jar along with the fruit for a more assertive spiced pickle.  Meanwhile, wash the loquats, removing the stem and blossom ends and seeds; do not peel them.  Pack into hot sterilized jars, filling ½-inch from rim with the hot syrup.  Seal and process in water bath 15 minutes.

I made a decision in early April that has improved my quality of life immensely: I broadcasted hundreds of lettuce seeds throughout two, 2 ft. x 6 ft. raised beds on my rooftop.

One bed was seeded with “European Mesclun Mix,” from the Baker Creek Seed Bank in Petaluma, California (a gift from my lovely fellow editor here at Civil Eats, Naomi Starkman). The second bed was filled with “Ultimate Salad Bowl,” from my other favorite place to procure seeds, the Hudson Valley Seed Library. For four weeks, the sun, soil and water has worked its magic. Now, I have delicious red and green curly lettuces, baby kale, radicchio, endive, mizuna, mustard greens, mache and orach (a relative of spinach). And arugula!

Now, every day for a week, I’ve gone up to the roof, picked a variety of greens and herbs, washed and prepared a salad — and if its nice weather and not too windy — I take some time to eat my lunch up there, where there’s a spectacular view of the city. This is a necessary respite for me: There is no wi-fi up on the roof, and I leave my phone down in the apartment, giving myself the time to be “out to lunch,” as Cathy Erway described in her apt post about our changing food vernacular on the newly relaunched markbittman.com.

I will admit that there was a round of initial work here — building the infrastructure of the garden, which required dedicated hours for bringing 1500 pounds of soil up six flights of stairs (I live in a tenement building with no elevator), along with the boards, tools and amendments to build and prepare the beds.

But the growing part is easy. To paraphrase Milwaukee urban farmer Will Allen, if you grow good soil, the plants grow themselves. Good soil is all about compost, and I add a little seabird guano now and then, too. As an added bonus, when you are working with good soil sowing closely is not a problem — and you can thin seedlings out, eating the baby leaves and letting the other plants get bigger. For lettuce, even a windowsill is adequate for growing. There is no space too small for happy-in-dappled-sunlight greens, and there is absolutely no special expertise needed.

Having a garden in the city is not about meeting all of your food wants and needs. Instead its about highlighting what you eat — adding something freshly picked to a dish (it really does make light years of difference taste-wise), or for me, starting ten bush bean plants from seed so that I can get enough of a harvest by early June to make my pickled ‘Dilly Beans’ to give away and serve as snacks.

But its also about the simple pleasures of planting a seed and watching it grow. It is only now, when I have perennial herbs and plants re-appearing, garlic coming up from last fall’s planting, and towering Tuscan kale that tastes sweeter after the winter frost, do I realize the value of the hard work of building a garden on the roof: a place to work a little patch of soil in the city and reap abundant rewards.

Last fall I planted spinach and arugula, which stayed dormant under a cold frame throughout the winter. I removed the cold frame at the end of March and the plants bounded into giant green bushes that we ate from in April. Now, as the arugula goes to seed on one side of the garden (which is really not so bad, as the leaves haven’t lost much flavor and the flowers are delicious), I have even more arugula thriving and taking root in my lettuce bed. The unpredictability of gardening lay in its creative challenges: when life gives you too much arugula, make pesto!

Arugula Pesto

Serves 2

a big bunch of arugula
two cloves of garlic
1/2 lemon (or to your taste) or 2 tablespoons cider vinegar works, too
1/4 cup of olive oil
1-2 tablespoons pine nuts
1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese
salt and pepper to taste

In a food processor or mortal and pestle, combine the ingredients and process until smooth. Taste and adjust seasoning.

I served my arugula pesto over gnocchi, the recipe adapted from Mark’s How to Cook Everything Vegetarian. I was serving two, so double it if you like more. When the gnocchi were done, I added shallot and butter to a cast iron pan with salt and pepper. After it cooked for a few minutes, I added a splash of white wine and let it cook off a moment, then added the gnocchi and about 1/2 cup of the arugula pesto. I cooked it until warm, then served the gnocchi with fresh-grated Parmesan.

Homemade Gnocchi

Serves 2

1 medium spud, preferably the starchy brown russet type
1/2 cup of flour
Hardy pinch of salt and pepper

1. Peel and boil the potato in a pot of water until soft, but not falling apart. Keep your boiling water, just turn it off for a few minutes. Put the potato in a bowl and mash it with a fork or process through a potato ricer if you have one (I don’t). The goal is to remove all of the lumps. Add the salt, pepper and flour and combine them well until you have a malleable dough. (I break down and use my hands here, which really helps produce a dough-like consistency.)

2. Roll out a section of the dough into a 1/2 thick tube, using a knife to cut it into one-inch pieces. Then use the back of a fork to press each one into a gnocchi, starting at one of the cut ends (How to Cook Everything Vegetarian has a great visual; see above). Start the heat under your water again, and you can begin dropping the gnocchi into the boiling water, without overlapping too much. They will cook for about a minute before rising to the surface, at which time you can place them on a plate, and they are ready to combine with your sauce and eat.

Kyle Cornforth was up for a challenge. So when the founder of a cooking school in the outskirts of Chiang Mai asked Kyle, who was working at the Edible Schoolyard at the time, if she’d like to come on board as director of The Prem Organic Cooking Academy and Farm, she leapt at the chance. She wanted to share what she’d learned about local, sustainable, organic cooking at a public school in north Berkeley with students and staff at an international school in northern Thailand.

So last summer, Kyle and her husband Jay, a teacher at Martin Luther King, Jr. Middle School in Berkeley where Edible is based (the two actually met in the garden, cue a chorus of awws), packed their bags and headed off on an adventure in Asia with their daughter Zorah.

“It was an opportunity we just couldn’t pass up as a family,” says Kyle via video Skype. (Full disclosure: We met at Edible, where I’m a volunteer.)

“Professionally, it was also a privilege to work with teachers and children from other parts of the world,” Kyle adds. “We knew it would be uncomfortable at times. We were pretty set in our ways in our lovely little Berkeley life. We thought it would be good for us.”

That’s proven to be the case. Going to live in another continent sounds super cool. And, for the most part, it is. Kyle loves the liveliness, colors, sounds, smells, sights, and tastes of Thailand. She even loves that simply getting into town, about 45 minutes away, is its own adventure.

But as anyone who has ever done it will tell you, moving out of your comfort zone, setting up shop in another country, and navigating an unfamiliar culture is not without its challenges.

Even something as seemingly banal as the weather can take time to get used to. Kyle finds the heat and humidity in Chiang Mai tough after the temperate, foggy Bay Area.

She pines for simple foods from far away. (She wrote a lovely blog post about how much she missed her daily bread.)

A soft-spoken woman with a kind demeanor, Kyle finds it incongruous that at times she feels like the loud, brash, opinionated American. Her gentle but direct manner and problem-solving approach doesn’t always serve her well here — it can offend — and so she’s figured out how to communicate to better suit local tastes.

The family is thriving in their temporary Thai home. Kyle, 30, describes her daughter and husband as being “Thai in their past lives,” pointing out, as evidence, that they happily eat rice for breakfast.

Kyle is learning about the principles behind traditional Thai cooking, with its emphasis on food as medicine.  And its key flavors: sweet, salty, buttery, bland, astringent, bitter, spicy, cool, and sour.

She says she has adopted a new, favorite way of thinking about meal planning, the Thai concept known as grom grawm or contrast, surprise, and balance.

She’s on a personal mission to perfect making Khao Soy, a popular street dish, comprised of crispy egg noodles, pickled cabbage, shallots, lime, meat, curry sauce, and coconut milk.

And she is following the advice of a wise friend who encouraged her “to go slow and go deep,” in her new environment. So she makes a point of frequenting the same vendors at local markets or street stalls, developing relationships with these people and their food as she goes.

Founded in 2008 by the San Diego restauranteur Su-Mei Yu, the Prem academy teaches traditional Thai cooking and farming techniques to visiting school kids from international schools around the globe.

Yu grew up in Bangkok, moved to the U.S. as a teen, and opened the first Thai restaurant in San Diego some 25 years ago. The cookbook author wants to help preserve and pass on the customs she learned as a young child, both in the kitchen and on the land.

Yu discovered that children growing up in cities in Thailand — and other Asian nations –often have little knowledge about where food comes from or how to cook, not unlike many American children.

Yu is friends with Mom Luang Tridhosyuth Devakul, the founder of the Prem Tinsulanonda International School (known as the Prem Center), who planted a vast organic garden that was so prolific it wasn’t long before the farm was feeding students at the K-12 boarding school. Adding the cooking academy felt like a natural progression.

At Prem, students learn how to prepare authentic Thai food using traditional tools.

They make coconut milk using a little wooden stool with a sharp blade known as a kratai. They also use a mortar and pestle to grind spices for curries.

Kyle is expanding the program’s reach. Prem has begun offering intensive cooking classes aimed at adult travelers interested in experiencing real Thai cuisine. Participants explore Thai flavors with local chefs and make seasonal dishes using fresh organic ingredients such as Kaffir lime leaves, lemongrass, galangal, and sweet basil all harvested from the Prem Academy’s garden.  Coconut, papaya, and bananas, are grown on site as well.

The program combines cooking and culture: Participants prepare alms trays, or offerings of food, to Buddhist monks at a nearby temple. Longer courses offer the chance to cook in local homes and meet village elders.

The classes are starting to find an audience.

This month AFAR includes Prem in a round-up of cooking schools around the world.

Last year Travel and Leisure featured a profile of the program by Karen Coates, who blogs beautifully on culinary travels at Rambling Spoon.

Kyle looks forward to bringing back a repertoire of Thai recipes to try out on family and friends in the Bay Area.

Below, she shares a simple noodle dish popular in northern Thailand.

Prem chef teacher Khun Nid learned this recipe from her mother.

It is considered a well-balanced, one dish meal.

In keeping with Thai principles it has salty, sweet, spicy, crunchy, and soft tastes and textures.

Enjoy.

Pad Kanom Jeen (Northern Thai Style Rice Vermicelli)

Makes 1- 2 servings

Ingredients:

2 cups room temperature rice vermicelli noodles, cooked
(can substitute soba, somen, or thin egg noodles)
1 teaspoon dark soy sauce
1 tablespoon soy sauce
1 tablespoon sugar
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1 tablespoon minced garlic
1 tablespoon thinly sliced fresh red chili
2 stalks green onion, thinly sliced across
2 to 3 stalks cilantro, minced

Condiments:

1 egg
½ cup vegetable oil
1 slice firm tofu (1/4 by 3 inches), sliced into eighths
a handful fresh bean sprouts
¼ teaspoon dried chili powder (more or less according to taste)

Method:

Put the rice vermicelli in a mixing bowl and toss gently with the soy sauces to combine, being careful to not break up the noodle strands. Sprinkle the sugar over the noodles and mix again. Set aside. Heat 1 tablespoon oil in a wok over medium-low heat. Wait for 30 seconds and add the garlic. Stir-fry garlic until golden and then add the noodles. Stir to mix until hot and fragrant. Add the chili and stir to mix for about a minute. Transfer to a serving plate. Garnish the top of the noodles with green onion and cilantro.

Preparing the condiments:

Crack the egg into a small mixing bowl and beat it with a fork. Add 1 tablespoon of the oil in a wok and heat over medium-low heat. Spread and swirl the oil around the wok. Heat until hot, about 30 seconds. Beat the egg vigorously and add to the hot oil. Swirl around into a thin sheet. Carefully flip the egg over to cook other side when the bottom is slightly brown and the top congealed. Transfer to a plate to cool once both sides are cooked. Roll into a tight cylinder and slice across into thin strands. Set aside. Add the rest of the oil to the wok, on medium-low heat. Wait for a minute or so until the oil begins to smoke. Add the tofu and deep-fry until crispy and golden, about 2 to 3 minutes. Transfer to a plate lined with paper towels. Surround the noodles with mounds of omelet strands, crispy tofu, bean sprouts, and dried chili powder and serve.

Photos: Courtesy of Cornhens in Thailand

Originally published at Lettuce Eat Kale

For my entire food love life, which is basically the number of years I have been alive, I have been plagued by conflict. Raised by one vegetarian parent, whose meal-making repertoire spanned the Whole Earth Catalogue, I was taught to consider carob chips as a very special treat. My other, carnivorous parent reveled in the rare opportunities to spoil me with “Home-Fried Taco Shell Night” and sly donut stops on the way to the dump. This devil and the angel phenomenon now haunts my kitchen time—one voice whispers to steam veggies and substitute stevia in my whole grain baking projects, while the other yells to go ahead and make that traditional coconut cream pie. I grapple constantly with being “healthy” or using the “real thing,” striving for purity of body or purity of original flavor. But in the end, can’t these two food philosophies converge?

Yes.  I think the solution lies in simply trusting in the nourishment of whole, fresh ingredients.  By now, the semantics of “eating local, organic food” are familiar to most. I would guess that most of our bookshelves hold many of the same titles and that Michael Pollan has eloquently won most of your hearts like he has mine.  But beyond these commonalities in food consciousness, our diverse and intimate day-to-day choices remain. No matter how strictly you adhere to brown rice and raw celery, there is bound to be an imbalance in your diet.  Even if a batch of gluten-free, Xylitol raw cocoa nib cookies has a very low glycemic index, I would not feel satisfied if I were to eat a dozen in one sitting. Most likely, I would spend my time craving one classic chocolate-chip cookie.

I know that there are a lot of people who have very real food allergies, and alternative ingredients and substitutions are a welcome dietary breath of fresh air. I am not arguing against this fact. I am merely presenting the idea that sometimes using real, whole foods—local and in season—can offer a holistic kind of nutrition, even in the form of one delicious slice of pie. A couple of butter-fried farm eggs or some responsibly raised bacon (if you eat meat), are okay to occasionally “indulge” in, in place of  a daily intake of highly processed tofurkey.

This past year I have gotten a lot of practice cooking for a Type 1 diabetic. My new glimpse at blood sugar control has brought more experience to my kitchen exploits.  I weigh the grams of everything going into a dish, shop for much more proteins and dairy, and fill my freezer with nuts. I am familiar with the research regarding Agave vs. Stevia, Xylitol vs. Splenda, and I have tested the use of all of them in baking.

In the end, when I watch my boyfriend savor that one rare bite of true chocolate pudding, as his eyes close in sheer bliss, I know that he has gotten so much more enjoyment out of that one bite than he would have with any number of diabetic-friendly products. As long as the pudding is not always around, he will stay healthy. As a cook, I find that my appreciation for the ingredients used in this recipe (my friends’ chickens laid the eggs, the bittersweet chocolate is fair trade and a local dairy produced the whole, cream-top milk), evens out my guilt for using a little bit of evaporated cane juice, a.k.a. sugar.  Moderation is key, no matter who we are, what we are stricken with, or what we believe. As Michael Pollan so succinctly says, “Eat food, not too much, mostly plants.”

Angel Pudding

(adapted from Mark Bittman’s Mexican Chocolate Tofu Pudding recipe)

¾ cup Xylitol

1 lb. silken tofu

8 oz. high-quality bittersweet chocolate, melted

1 tsp. vanilla extract

1 ½ tsp. ground cinnamon

½ tsp. chili powder, or more to taste

In a small pot, combine Xylitol with ¾ cup of water; bring to a boil and cook until dissolved, stirring occasionally. Cool slightly.

Put all ingredients in a blender and purée until completely smooth, stopping machine to scrape down its sides if necessary. Divide among 4 to 6 ramekins and chill for at least 30 minutes.

Devil Pudding

2 cups whole organic milk or cream (or combination of both)

8 oz. high-quality fair trade bittersweet chocolate, finely chopped

2 tbsp. Sugar

6 local egg yolks, at room temperature

Grated zest of one local orange

In the top of a double boiler, combine milk/cream, chocolate and sugar and heat over boiling water until melted and just simmering.

In a medium bowl, beat the egg yolks.  Gradually stir ½ cup of the hot milk mixture into the eggs, then transfer this back into the double boiler with remaining milk mixture.  Add the orange zest.

Continue to cook slowly, stirring until the custard is very thick and coats the back of a spoon.  Strain and pour into 8, 4 oz. ramekins. Cool uncovered until no longer steaming, then cover and refrigerate 6 hours or overnight.

It was a blessing in disguise, one of many construction zone disasters that actually resulted in triumph.  One recent morning I walked into the only room that remains somewhat set up for day-to-day activities during our total DIY home remodel, sectioned off by hanging canvas tarps, gutted walls, electrical wires, naked bulbs and lots of dust, and on the floor lay splinters of wood and scattered index cards.  It looked like a crime scene from the movies, someone looking for my secret papers, but instead was my old, neglected recipe box that had tumbled off its absent-mindedly placed location on the highest shelf.

What was it doing way up there, and why would someone who centers her life on food in every way put it in such a hard to reach location?  Well, despite my enormous love of food, eating, and cooking, I have to admit to rarely using recipes.  My large collection of cookbooks, currently all packed away tightly in various sheds, are just that, a collection, more observed and admired from afar on the shelf than actually busted into and utilized.   I’ve even tried to make deals with myself, like starting a new habit of using Sunday night as recipe night and exploring the wealth of information that lies dormant on the shelf, but to no avail.  The recipe following habit just won’t stick.  My cooking style, and sometimes even baking style, is loose, whimsical, intuitive, vacillating with what is around, what I’ve learned and what my mood is more than by direction.  So the answer to why my recipe box sat in such an inaccessible spot is simply because I never look in it.  In fact, I almost forgot I had it.

But that fateful morning, as I gathered up the mess on the floor like a dropped deck of cards, I realized that it was about time to reorganize.  Over the course of the next few days I sorted through my recipes section by section, an assortment of neatly copied cards, Xeroxed magazine pages, printed online articles and of course, the requisite bits and pieces of ripped out newspaper clippings yellowed over time.  And as I snickered over why in the world I wrote down so many tofu recipes or low carb desserts I also caught my breath at the sight of my grandmother’s handwritten bunt cake instructions or her secret salad dressing that I wrote down while she dictated to me on one of the very last times she made it for our family.  What was initially an unwelcome housekeeping chore turned into an unexpected opportunity to meander through my personal food past.  It was a way to examine my own edible journey and in a larger sense, delivered snippets of time.  I flashed on scenes otherwise forgotten; my grandmother’s hand as she tipped the spice jar over her large wooden salad bowl, the record playing in the distance when I copied my best friend’s favorite chili recipe, my excitement at finding the ingredients to the best chai in the world from the vegetarian restaurant I worked at through college.  Every single item stuffed within that old pine box opened up a moment, and despite how relevant or appealing the actual recipe was that I came across, the simple fact that it called to me in some way at some point in time was what made each one special.  Through this food-focused lens, it provided retrospection and offered illumination about how I was feeling, what I was doing, and what was important to me over the years.

Since that day of destruction and rediscovery, I have actually followed a few recipes that had otherwise lay dormant.  Last weekend was honeyed sweet potato biscuits and when the recent storms blew and thundered by, I was kneading up some Slurry Bread, a classic go-to from the farm I lived and worked at after college.  Perhaps next I will chunk away at the dozens of brownie recipes I seem to impulsively acquire or finally make those New York Times chocolate chip cookies.  And maybe my experience will inspire you to take a gander at what lies within your own collection of recipe memories…

Straight out of my vast cookie recipe section, these ones are perfect for heating up a cold winter night.

“Hot Mama” Cookies

11/2 cups flour
¾ cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1 tsp. Cinnamon
½ tsp. Black pepper, freshly ground
½ tsp. Cayenne pepper
½ tsp. salt
¾ cup unsalted butter (11/2 sticks), softened
1 cup sugar
1 egg
1 tsp. Vanilla

Sift together flour, cocoa, spices and salt.  In a separate bowl, cream butter and sugar until fluffy.  Add egg and vanilla and combine thoroughly.  Mix in dry ingredients until just incorporated.  Refrigerate dough for about 30 minutes.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.  Pinch off pieces of chilled dough and roll into 1-inch balls.  Place on a parchment lined cookie sheet about 2 inches apart.  Press a fork dipped in flour or cocoa powder firmly into top of each cookie to create a criss-cross pattern.  Sprinkle with extra sugar if desired.  Bake 9-10 minutes, being careful not to over bake.  Remove to rack and cool completely.

First off, a full kettle on the top of the stove equals an instant hot beverage at any time of the day. My morning now just requires reaching for a mug and selecting a tea bag, and the rest is already done (that is, if a certain someone has been up early and stoked the fire before I rise). The kettle also acts as a room humidifier, battling the dryness of winter. Other water based cooking may take a little bit more time and a little advance planning, but a pot on the stove will eventually boil and lead to any number of results, from hard boiled eggs, to pasta, to oatmeal. And reheating is a breeze.

But there are some dishes that seem to improve from the slower heating and fire infusion. The recipe below is an example, where flavors fused and the texture actually improved from the gradual heat. The next chapter to take on will be baking projects, perhaps using the variety of cast iron pots and pans I have inherited from my grandparents. I’m envisioning crusty sourdough loaves in the heavy covered Dutch oven or puffy pancake souffles. Steamed puddings, roasted meats, caramelized vegetables, stews; there are a zillion possibilities and a long wet winter ahead to try them all.

Fireplace Eggs

2 organic fresh eggs
Homemade marinara sauce
Grated mozzarella cheese (optional)
Olive Oil
Salt & Pepper

First, make sure you have a strong, roaring fire. In a small skillet, heat about ¼ cup of olive oil on top of the stove. Crack the eggs into the pan and cook until whites are solid (or until your desired level of jiggly or unjiggly-ness is achieved). Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Pour about ½ cup of marinara around eggs and cover with grated cheese if using. Cover pan until melted and hot. Meanwhile, place a chunk or two of crusty bread on top of stove. Eat eggs, sopping up sauce with the hot bread.

Note: Although similar, this technique is obviously different from the one Alice Waters employs in her open home hearth, seen now in a variety of publications including lunch for Lesley Stahl on 60 Minutes and a recent visit by NY Times columnist Maira Kalman. Not many of us are lucky enough to have an expansive kitchen fire pit here in the States, but open fire cooking indoors is still widely practiced around the world and is the precursor to our modern day fireplaces and wood stoves. My aim is to reclaim that energy source as a useful tool, and illustrate how easy it can be to eat from your heat.

My kitchen has been whittled down to about 50 square feet.  Standing room only to say the least is our new cooking protocol, making collaborative meals a thing of the past. The kitchen counter is rapidly shrinking as more and more household items get piled onto the rare space, along with the dirty dishes in our bus tub that have to get washed outside. My elbows tuck in closer when chopping and I have to set the toaster oven on the floor by the power strip that reaches the single outlet in operation. The large vintage Viking range, a mere foot away, makes for a hot and sweaty prep station if cranked up during the dinner hour, so even on these chilly autumn evenings our faces flush with any kitchen task. What has restricted our game, you might wonder? The reason is a complete house remodel, which began in June, being done solely by my carpenter boyfriend and myself…less me, more him. Do-it-yourself is an understatement here, and sometimes I’m not sure how exactly we got ourselves into this. Our daily reality of plastic tarps, red tape, cobwebs and dirty everything is actually perfectly suitable for a murderous Halloween set. I should have just put on some spooky music and invited the neighborhood kids over for a real haunted house experience, deranged lunatics included.

The next couple of months will most likely get worse before they get better. But I don’t mean to complain. I know I am fortunate to have this opportunity to eventually step up from the original 400 square foot floor plan to one about double in size. And I have electricity, and running water, and the toilet is actually indoors now. What I am here to discuss is our true commitment to eating healthy, delicious, fresh meals despite the chaos around us. Many of our peers break easily at these kinds of situations, opting for burritos and pizza every night instead of braving through cooking projects. I’m not willing to cave in that way, to sacrifice my food choices and health and finances because I am stressed and tired. After all my work and arguments for locality, quality ingredients, ethically sourced food, going to the taqueria down the road for some genetically modified tortilla chips and hormone heavy sour cream every night would make me a big hypocrite. The inconvenience of a cramped kitchen, trekking out in the dark for dish duty, and limited appliances is worth the alternative. As our farm flourished this season, the canning and pickling and jam making did as well…under ridiculous conditions. But those jars labeled Summer 09’ will have that extra elbow grease and dedication infused within, making the goods that much more deserved upon opening.

Our nightly home-cooked dinners together have also become a very important ritual for us. No matter how angry, sad, upset or frustrated this chaotic construction zone makes us, we always sit down to eat together. It is just who we are and a big part of what we both believe in. To miss a meal after a fight would be a really big deal. The hot food, created by one of us, primarily with some home grown element or other, seems to act as glue, bringing out the issue and laying it to rest as we nourish ourselves.  The following recipe got us through the tomato glut unscathed, and makes for a wonderful finale for those late harvest tomatoes you might have laying around.

Oven Roasted Tomato Sauce

4 Pounds ripe tomatoes
1 small head of garlic, chopped or crushed
Olive oil
Salt & Pepper
Fresh basil, rosemary, oregano, parsley, chopped (optional)

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Cut the tomatoes in half and squeeze out the seeds into your compost. Lay the tomato halves cut-side up on a large, rimmed baking sheet. Generously drizzle with olive oil and crushed garlic. Sprinkle with salt, pepper and herbs if using. Place in the oven and cook until juices have released and thickened a bit, about 30-45 minutes. Smash roughly with a potato masher and pour directly over pasta, polenta, meat, vegetables, etc. or save for later. You can also let the sauce cool and then puree with an immersion blender or food processer for a smooth texture.