Author: Isabel Montclaire

Last week I wrote about falling in love with refried beans and learning how to make them. They are simple to cook and are the ultimate comfort food on a cold winter day.

The number of people who don’t know how to cook beans from scratch surprises me so they eat them from cans. Are they afraid of the beans? Is it because there is so much confusion about the right way to cook them  – to salt or not to salt, that is the question! Presoak or no? Cooking beans from dried is not mysterious or rocket science and takes little skill and effort. The results are so superior to canned beans that it’s one of those “shall not be named things”, so let’s not even talk about it. Plus there is a whole universe of fantabulous (yes, that’s a word) heirloom beans that are remarkably delicious and you can eat them plain, straight from the pot. So many flavors have been lost in the interest of commodity food production and people do not know what they are missing. Sad.

Start with the highest quality, freshest beans available. Beans get old; I vacuum pack mine if I don’t plan to use them within six months. You can cook beans on the top of the stove, in the oven, a crockpot, or a pressure cooker. I use an Instant Pot pressure cooker but since you may not have one of those, or even know what one is, I will write about the oven method.

In a Dutch oven or oven-safe pot, add one pound of beans (a one pound package will make six cups cooked). Rinse them several times and watch out for gravel that could crack a tooth. Cover with about two inches of water. I add a scant quarter cup of my favorite ingredient, Maggi’s Klare Bruhe, a powdered European broth mix. Klare Bruhe is so good I don’t even think of it as food, but more like a magic potion (it’s available on Amazon). Toss in a few bay leaves. A lot of recipes call for adding aromatics like celery, onion, carrot and garlic to the beans but I find Klare Bruhe adds even more flavor. Bring the beans to a boil on the stove then simmer for about ten minutes. Put the pot in a 350⁰ oven. Cook until the beans are soft; that can be anywhere between 30 minutes to two hours. You can look up cooking times on the internet . . . or ask the AI. Too many beans? You can freeze the extra in their cooking liquid. Next week we will mash them up and maybe you too will fall in love with refried beans.

Lately I’ve been reminiscing about riding my paint quarter horse, Quincy, on my friend Lolita’s five hundred acre working farm in Hubbard, Oregon. Lolita and I rode most Sunday mornings and we would laugh and say that we were at “The Church of the Horse”. Riding with her was a deeply spiritual experience because on every ride we would see sights that were breathtakingly beautiful and the images would stay with me for the whole week. For example, on one winter not-a-cloud-in-the-sky morning icicles blanked the bare trees in the hazelnut orchard; they looked like glass and mirrored the sun’s rays in a dazzling rainbow of light. Millions of tiny ice beads sparkled on snow white ground. The sun warmed my back and I took it all in like I was a sponge. 

Most afternoons on the way home I’d stop at the local Mexican restaurant run by a very amicable “Senor Lopez”. The place was not exactly posh but it had a warm, cozy feel. On the cold days, I’d always order the same thing: a bowl of refried beans and a pot of cinnamon tea. The beans had this amazing nourishing, comfort food feel and they were served plain. I don’t even remember putting salsa on them, they were so delicious. I do remember asking the cook what kind of bean she used and she said Peruvian. Those beans have a pale yellow hue and are creamy with a meaty flavor.

All this recent reminiscing about Senor Lopez’s finally got me motivated to make refried beans. I went onto the Rancho Gordo website (my mail order source for heirloom beans) and read a blog post about how to make authentic refried beans. Cooking them was so simple that I wondered why it had taken me over a decade to finally get around to making them. But better late than never, eh? My first batch turned out quite well and I had the same experience as when I ate them at Senor Lopez’s. They nourished my soul as well as my tummy.

Last week I visited the editor of this paper, Steve Allen, and I gave him a bag of cranberry beans. He said that he didn’t cook beans from dried and used canned instead. I told him how easy it was to cook beans from scratch then tried to explain it to him. Then it occurred to me that I could write a column about how to cook them, so Steve, this one is for you!

But now I am out of room so I will start with the instructions for “Refried Beans 101” next week. Stay tuned!

I wrote Lolita a letter when she was on her deathbed and to this day it remains the best writing I’ve ever done.

You know by now that I am a fan of food made from scratch ingredients. Usually boxed food or “cheat and heats” just don’t hold a candle to food cooked with love and real ingredients.

I can’t now recall how a box of Pillsbury Quick Bread banana nut mix made its way into the pantry. Perhaps in the middle of the night it snuck in on little cat feet? Or maybe in an unconscious daze I plucked it off a shelf at the grocery store. Regardless, there it sat in the cupboard and I was curious to try it. I baked it up and the first bite pleasantly surprised me. Often boxed cake mixes are overly sweet and the textures are boring. But not this one. The banana flavor was concentrated and not overpowered by sweetness. The bread had a nice crumbly texture, like a cross between a cake and a quick bread. If someone told me this imposter loaf was homemade I would have believed them.

Now I was curious. Who else made banana bread/muffin mix? I found boxes of Krusteaz and Betty Crocker. Krusteaz won by a long shot. Sorry Betty! But who was the clear winner now – Pillsbury or Krusteaz? I liked Pillsbury’s banana bread the best, mostly because of its light and crumbly texture. Krusteaz had a heavier, spongy texture but it was delicious too. Either way, eating minimal effort banana bread with my morning coffee is such a treat.

The Krusteaz box had a recipe for banana chocolate chip cookies. I gave them a whirl and they were similar to a classic chocolate chip cookie but with subtle banana flavor. I made one batch each with the Krusteaz and Pillsbury mixes. I preferred the Krusteaz cookies but Pillsbury’s were certainly good. The recipe called for sugar but I feared they would be too sweet so omitted it. I added vanilla too.

Quick Banana Chocolate Chip Cookies

1 box banana bread/muffin mix
¾ cup softened butter
1 egg, beaten
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 cup chocolate chips
Nuts, optional

Blend the butter with the mix until all the lumps disappear; I used my hands. Add the egg and the vanilla, mix well. Stir in the chocolate chips/nuts. Drop by spoonfuls onto a greased cookie sheet and bake at 350⁰ for about 15 minutes. The longer they bake the less banana flavor they have. Because I don’t like things to be too sweet I used 70% dark chocolate chips.

There could be endless variations to both the cookies and the bread. White chocolate chips and macadamia nuts? Figs and hazelnuts? Fancy! Maybe it’s okay to cheat sometimes, especially when a few real scratch ingredients and a big dose of love are added in.

For the last couple of weeks I’ve been writing about the joys of baking fancy artisan bread. I read a book titled “Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day” and learned there are five books in the series. I plan to do a lot of baking and experimenting. Oh what fun!

For my first try, I followed the instructions exactly and made a classic round artisan loaf. But then I wondered if I could bake the dough in a loaf pan to make sandwich bread. My friend Randall has a cast iron loaf pan and I sheepishly admit that I am very envious about it, and covet it greatly. How would bread bake in that cast iron loaf pan? I wanted to know before I bought my own so I invited myself over to Randall’s for a “bake-in”.

I arrived with the wad of dough in my tote bag. We cranked the oven up to 450⁰, lined the pan with parchment paper, plopped in the dough and waited for it to rise. Then we put the pan into the oven. Forty minutes later the bread was done. Wow, it looked like fancy bread from a high end bakery in some swank neighborhood where foodies abound. But would it taste good, the texture be right? While it was still warm we sawed off the first slice and smeared it with butter. The bread was utterly delicious! We devoured the entire loaf right then and there. Now I was even more jealous of Randall’s loaf pan.

A few days later I wanted to make another loaf. I didn’t have a cast iron loaf pan yet so I used one made of ceramic. I followed the same process as before expecting that I would get the same result. I didn’t! The bread was dark golden brown on the outside but unbaked in the center. What to do? The toaster! Three tries got the center baked but the slices shrunk to about ⅔ the original size. And the crust was like a rock. Now what? Re-bake it! I put the loaf in a 450⁰ oven and after 30 minutes, the bread was like a hockey puck with a creamy center.

Mistakes are a necessary part of the learning process. If I continue to experiment and fiddle around with bread baking, I will probably make a lot of mistakes. Randall and I agreed that “Don’t be afraid!” could be a good motto in the kitchen. After all, if you don’t play you can’t win, or improve. If you learn something from a mistake then it isn’t a mistake. So bring on those mistakes! They may even taste good with butter.

Last week I wrote about going to a bakery and seeing artisan bread being sold by the half loaf for $5.50. An $11.00 loaf of bread? Preposterous! A while back, my friend Ellie lent me her book “Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day” and suddenly I was motivated to read it and make a loaf or two for myself.

I followed the instructions which were ridiculously simple. Warm three cups water to 110⁰; add 1½ tablespoons each rapid-rise yeast and kosher salt, mix in 6½ cups of all-purpose flour, let rise until double, refrigerate for at least one day and up to fourteen (it’s better with age). No kneading required! When it’s time to bake, pull off a chunk, shape into a loaf and rise for thirty minutes. While the dough rises, put a pizza stone and a small baking dish into a 450⁰ oven. When the loaf is done rising, score the top, put a cup of water into the baking dish to make the oven steam, pop the dough onto the pizza stone and bake for 40 minutes. That’s all!

I anxiously awaited my first loaf and resisted my urge to open the oven door every five minutes to peek, and I did it only twice. I knew the bread was almost finished baking when the kitchen exploded with an intoxicating aroma. Off went the timer at forty minutes and when I opened the door I was filled with joy. The bread did indeed look like artisan bread, of the kind found at fancy bakeries. The crust was a crispy golden brown. Would it taste as good as it looked?

While the loaf was still warm, I cut the first slice and smeared it with Irish butter. Something indescribably lovely came with the experience – the bite had a feeling of completeness. The bread’s appearance, warmth and aroma along with a feeling of accomplishment created an almost spiritual experience. I certainly never felt that when I went to a bakery, brought a loaf home and toasted it. This E-Z homemade artisan bread was better than I ever imagined and took almost no effort.

Because I was still shell – shocked about an $11.00 loaf of bread, I calculated the cost. The batch of dough made enough for two big loaves and the flour, yeast and salt for each was only $1.02 (I bought a pound of yeast at the US Chef’s store for only $5.59). I ate the entire loaf of bread with wild abandon in less than 24 hours and couldn’t wait to make it again. Maybe I should make half loaves since I obviously have little restraint!

Last week I went to a bakery in Bend and was shocked to see artisan bread being sold by the half loaf. The bread was about the same price I paid for a whole loaf a couple of years ago. We’ve all witnessed the rising cost of food in the past year but this seemed to punctuate the seriousness of the problem. I have heard the term “shrinkflation” which means smaller sizes for about the same price and this was a perfect example.

This price increase had a profound effect on me and for the next several days I was haunted by the $5.50 half loaf of bread. I wondered how far “shrinkflation” could go. Ten dollars in 2025? Then I remembered a book that my friend Ellie lent me several months ago “Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day”. Now I felt motivated to read it, so I did. I learned that I could greatly simplify the bread making process. The basic idea is to make a big batch of no-knead dough, keep it in the refrigerator and when I want to bake, pull off a chunk, shape a loaf and pop it in the oven. The longer the bread sits in the fridge, the more flavor it accumulates, apparently much like sourdough. Not only will I get an almost effortless loaf of bread, the kitchen will fill up with a lovely aroma. The book has a master recipe that opens the door to many variations.

I followed the instructions and whipped up a batch. It’s presently sitting in the fridge and I am going to play with it this week. Play, I’m so excited! I will let you know how it goes. Who knows, I just may end up being thankful to that $5.50 half loaf to get me jump-started on E-Z bread baking. I look forward to warm bread smeared in butter and honey with a cup of Earl Grey (who is Earl Grey??) tea at 4:00 in the afternoon. Ah, life is good.

Meanwhile, the accountant in me kicks in and I want to calculate the cost. The basic recipe uses only flour, yeast, salt and water. I can buy a 25lb bag of Gold Medal flour for $24.39 and properly store it in five gallon food grade plastic buckets with airtight lids. The recipe called for six and a half cups of flour and that weighs 27 ounces. The flour is about six cents an ounce, so the flour for a couple of loaves is $1.62. I’m out of room so I will calculate the cost of the salt and yeast next week. I may even calculate the cost for half a loaf of bread. Stay tuned!

One chilly morning last week I drove to Madras with a friend. The day was sunny and as crisp as crisp could be. A soft blanket of quiet frost covered the earth. The frost captured the sun’s light in millions of tiny sparkling beads scattered across the landscape. The sky was an extraordinary cross between periwinkle blue and purple. I inhaled deeply and took it all in.

We climbed a hill and when we rounded a corner, a huge sea of fog opened up in front of us. The landscape really did look like the sea, or at least I pretended that was the case. Our car rolled down the hill and into the sea-fog we went. As we reached flat ground, the fog started to lift and the sun shone through in bright patches. Suddenly we spotted something neither one of us had ever seen: a series of five, maybe seven rainbows suspended in the fog, all barely discernible. They were sitting in a large pasture and did not look anything like the usual rainbows because they were wider with fainter colors. They were short, just slightly higher than the trees and wispy, ephemeral. But more than the appearance to the physical eye, they had a soothing presence, as if we were looking at live beings, angels maybe. They seemed to talk, or gave us the impression they were. If peace had a look, this would be it. Silence too. Comfort, definitely. I took it all in and felt nourished.

As I tried to understand what I was seeing, I asked my friend if she felt the rainbows too. She did! Together we tried to find the words to describe this mysterious presence. Comparing notes together about this profound event was sheer delight. Reality check! No, I wasn’t crazy after all. Or, if I was then she was too.

Over the following days I contemplated the idea of spiritual nourishment and the words “soul food” came to mind. It’s so easy to think of food as something to eat yet nourishment comes in so many different forms. Friendship is one, connection another. Beauty definitely nourishes. So do joy, laughter, fun and play. Another big one is gratitude. Being thankful is like medicine; gratitude can transform a sour mood into a happy one almost instantly. Surprises nourish too; they keep life from becoming too routine and dull. Generosity and help in any form – those are the best!

Even challenges can be a form of nourishment because they force us to expand and grow into spectacular rainbows. The New Year is already upon us. I wish everyone a year filled with supreme good fortune and more!

A while back, Beverly and Jack Hollen of Mountain View California sent me a wonderful present – a handwritten recipe! The recipe arrived in a beautiful card accompanied by notes written by both Beverly and Jack. My heart felt truly warmed by this seemingly small yet significant gift. I appreciated their efforts to share a piece of their culinary world. Handwritten communications convey a warmth that just doesn’t come across in a world dominated by screens and keyboards. The tactile experience of getting a stamped letter in the mail is much more memorable than opening an email with an attachment. The element of surprise in the mailbox is nice too.

The recipe was for Mustard Sauce. A sauce can elevate a meal from “ho-hum” to “Wow, this is really great”! Beverly mentioned that the mustard sauce was for ham. But after I made it, the possibilities expanded. The sauce was sweet and sour, only better than any sweet and sour sauce I had ever tasted because it had an extra layer of flavor. Sweet and sour can go with almost anything: meatballs and meatloaf, shrimp, chicken and steamed vegetables to name a few. I sautéed a few prawns, steamed some peas and put all that on a bed of smoked basmati rice then drowned it with the sauce. This combination was wickedly good and it only took about ten minutes, maybe less, to make.

Mustard Sauce

One cup Campbell’s Consommé (do NOT substitute beef broth)
½ cup sugar
½ cup French’s yellow mustard
1 egg

Mix all the ingredients in a double boiler and whisk constantly until thickened. I used the whole can of consommé. The first time around I got side-tracked and forgot to keep whisking. The egg solidified and there were little pieces of scrambled egg floating in the sauce. That was not the right look! So I had to get out my immersion blender which added an unnecessary step.

In this culture where “bigger is better” and “more, more, more” it is easy to think that a small gesture such as a handwritten recipe doesn’t amount to much. But sometimes small things can have a huge impact. On the surface, a recipe looks like a piece of paper. But it translates into a delicious culinary experience, especially if the recipe has been handed down for generations. Then the recipe comes with the feeling of duration, because it withstood the test of time. I love splattered recipes with crossed out words and doodles in the margins. A recipe is a present that doesn’t cost anything. Who was it that said “Sometimes the best things in life are free”? Thank you, Beverly and Jack for sharing this awesome yuletide present with our readers.

Recently I read some alarming statistics about child and adult obesity. As of 2023, in the United States 19% of children and adolescents and 41.9% of adults are obese. Really? Why? There are many reasons but the biggest one I see is that many people don’t know how to cook or create a pantry. Lack of time and the overabundance of fast and processed foods make it way too easy to grab and go. Also, television shows that feature celebrity chefs who have sophisticated culinary skills probably intimidate a lot of people. Viewers may think “This is way too complicated, thanks but no thanks”!

If I had one wish it would be that gardening, cooking, baking and food preservation would be taught in school from K through 12. Were my wish to come true, we’d have a much healthier population. Well prepared food contributes enormously to a person’s well-being so I imagine people would be happier too.

Last week I was thrilled when my friend Randall invited me to watch him give a cooking lesson to his seven year old son Zaimon. They were making sweet and sour chicken and rice. When I arrived, I perched on a bar stool and watched the two of them make the sauce. Randall explained to Zaimon that cooking was like putting a puzzle together and it used a lot of math. Four tablespoons equals ¼ cup, two ¼ cups equal ½ cup and so on. He patiently helped Zaimon read the recipe and match the measurements with the measuring spoons and cups. He gave him little tips such as pack the brown sugar into the cup and tap the ketchup bottle on the counter to make it come out. The recipe called for honey and they didn’t have any so they substituted molasses. I could see that Zaimon gained self-confidence from his new found skill. 

When the sauce was done, they poured it over a pan of chicken legs and popped it in the oven. The rice went into the rice cooker and I cut up some peas and broccoli and steamed them. The end result was so delicious that I had three helpings; I thought about a fourth but said no. When we were finished, we got up and danced in the living room along with the German shepherd. A good time was had by all! Perhaps Zaimon and Randall could have their own cooking show and demonstrate to the world that good food can be had by everyone, including folks who don’t know how to cook  . . . yet. Maybe a celebrity chef or two would watch it and want to be a guest. Who knows? Anything is possible.

On Sunday night, I watched a segment on 60 Minutes about the marriage of artificial intelligence and quantum computing. I’ve known about both technologies because I read the MIT Technology Review, an excellent source for staying informed about our fast paced world. Each issue delves into a new technology’s impacts from a historical, scientific, demographic, educational, political, economic, sociological, environmental, and cultural perspective. I’ve anticipated the convergence of AI and QC for a long time, but the 60 Minutes episode heightened my awareness to a new level. What happens when these two huge technologies marry? Hold on! Whoa!!!

Now you are probably wondering what any of this has to do with food and cooking. After the program ended I sat in my chair and stared at the wall glazed over like a zombie. I contemplated the dizzying pace of societal change and a growing complexity of life that seems to have no end in sight. Then I remembered one of my most deeply held values: simplicity. You already know how much I love simplicity – every recipe I write about has minimal ingredients, requires little cleanup and takes only thirty minutes or less. Simplicity rules!

I often read recipes and re-write them in my head to eliminate unnecessary steps and stuff to wash. I sometimes wonder “What on earth are these cooks thinking?” They want me to use every pot, pan, and utensil in the kitchen. When I’m finished, I will be knee-deep in things to wash, dry and put away. I will likely feel very crabby and ask myself why I even made This Thing. Why follow a recipe exactly just because it said so? Break free from all the recipe shoulds and musts. Cooking should be enjoyable, not a chore that leaves our kitchens looking like a massive tornado just ripped through it.

When I read a recipe, I look for ways to simplify it and ask “Do I really need three bowls to mix this?” Can I combine steps and use only one bowl? Is there a shortcut that won’t compromise the recipe’s integrity? For example, my beau James taught me that it’s not always necessary to sauté an onion before adding it to a recipe. The onion usually cooks enough, has plenty of flavor, and a delightful crunch. I would have never thought to question this step. After all, my mother and grandmother and probably my great grandmother always did it that way.

Sometimes the most satisfying meals are the ones cooked with a sprinkle of ease and a dash of freedom. Do what feels good and eliminate the fluff. And who knows, after AI and QC marry, the best meals just may be the ones cooked by your robot.