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I can trace my recent improvements on the vegetarian cooking front to one insight in particular (thanks to the stir fry section in Heidi Swanson’s book, credited/linked below): that almost every stove-top vegetarian dish is vastly enhanced with vegetable stock cubes.

Stock cubes are magical, easy-to-apply, highly compressed morsels of savoury goodness. They can add flavour and balance to almost any vegetable stir fry, sauce/gravy or pasta dish. They can elevate what would otherwise just be a side dish of bland-ish veggies to a surprising little main event.

My cooking now routinely includes quickly preparing a coffee mug full of dense vegetable stock. I let one or two cubes dissolve while I prep the vegetables, and it’s ready to go when I need it to keep things moist, after the initial sautéing/browning. If I want to add some extra flavour (say, for a little Indian spice or Chinese sweetness), the hot broth is a perfect delivery vehicle for curry powder, vegetarian oyster sauce, black bean sauce, and the like. Just dissolve the other spices or sauces in it before applying.

In practical terms, here are a few ideas where stock cubes can make or break a dish:

• Green asparagus, in season right now (or maybe just out of season…), quickly sautéd with some onion, then cooked in veggie stock for 5-8 minutes at medium heat until soft-ish.
• The same thing, only with green beans (they require slightly less time – 3-5 minutes – and should still be slightly crunchy when served).
• Any vegetable stir fry, flash fried, then cooked in half a cup of vegetable stock with a table spoon of Indonesian yellow curry powder over brown rice.
• Vegetable fried rice cooked in a cup of vegetable broth in which some black bean sauce has been dissolved.
• The delicious veggie bake previously described (which, incidentally, also benefits tremendously from asparagus tips).

In the higher heat stir fries, the vegetable stock will reduce while cooking, become slightly thick and form a kind of sauce. You can certainly add salt, pepper and other spices or herbs, but be cautious with the salt because stock cubes can be quite salty. When in doubt, skip the additional salt. Another word of caution is for fried rice dishes – adding too much stock too late in the process results in a soggy mess that might taste delicous but whose appearance and mouth feel are more like a strange risotto.

Heidi Swanson’s book unfortunately seems to be more or less out of print, but it’s a fabulous work – sort of a ’structuralist’ approach to preparing vegetarian dishes. In it, instead of presenting recipes in the traditional way, she finds structural similarities between similar dishes, establishes the ‘archetype’ and helps you understand the concept behind what you’re making rather than letting you puzzle out the mysteries of each preparation style yourself. It’s a very empowering read for those of us who gain confidence from intellectually understanding something, and worth any amount of money you can find it for.

Cook 1.0

Heidi Swanson. Stewart, Tabori and Chang 2004, Hardcover, 192 pages, $59.90

Design Your Self

Karim Rashid. Collins Design 2006, Paperback, 336 pages, $9.97

A review of Karim Rashid’s Design Your Self (2006)

Ladies and gentlemen of the class of ‘97: Wear sunscreen. If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now. (‘Advice, like youth, probably just wasted on the young,’ by Mary Schmich in the Chicago Tribune, 1997)

If you lived in the Western world and had access to a radio circa 1999, you know these words. Baz Luhrmann, an Australian screenwriter, director and producer, took a ‘theoretical’ commencement address from a Chicago Tribune columnist and made it into a ’song’ of sorts: read in an authoritative male voice, the track dispenses a broad range of advice over a version of the song “Everbody’s Free (To Feel Good)” by Rozalla. Definitely a ‘novelty’ single, it reached #1 in the UK and Ireland and a respectable #45 in the US.

Industrial designer Karim Rashid’s Design Your Self, whether intentional or not, has the same thrust throughout its roughly 325 high-gloss pages of advice. Clearly not content with a single role or type of work, Rashid-as-author dispenses advice on the four key areas of life. The sub-title is, “Rethinking the way you live, love, work, and play.”

The book’s tone is a benign imperative: “Create large white spaces,” “impose order,” “drink plenty of water and use a humidifier,” “sex toys are great,” “simplify where you can.” It took me a lot of conscious effort to move beyond the imperatives, handsomely summarized on colourful pages with designer-ish fonts.

When I did manage to set aside my indignation at page after page of being told what to do and how to live, I initially learned that Karim Rashid is quite a good writer. While it’s definitely not particularly artistic prose, it is head-and-shoulders above almost every self-help book I’ve ever read. Most explanatory passages are crisp and economical, with perfectly serviceable (and sometimes slightly quirky) anecdotes from the famed designer’s hobnobbing life.

About 100 pages in, another realization: the reason I didn’t set it aside (and I set books aside readily when they irritate me) was that Rashid actually made sense in large stretches. It’s a strangely all-encompassing work, this; as wide (or wider) in scope as Emily Post’s famous instructions about manners, he sets out a comprehensive guide to living in this 21st century, urban, technology-savvy, media-saturated multi-culti world of ours. Design Your Self’s surprisingly broad range of topics also ensures that it never runs out of subject matter and, therefore, doesn’t become boring. (It’s quite possible to read it in the same way one might watch a horrible accident being narrowly averted: “Can he do it? Will he be able to turn the wheel before he hits the guard rail…?”)

Design Your Self is the ultimate reference to a kind of celebratory cultural relativism and as such will be deeply irritating to anyone with a more conservative outlook. Searching for its roots is, of course, not particularly hard – at least not if we speculate a little. Rashid was born in Cairo and grew up in Canada during the crucial Trudeau decades. There’s a generation of Canadians who came of age in the 70s and 80s who, naturally and quite fervently, believe in a tolerant, let’s-all-get-along, economically productive, inclusive society. This book is one such person’s attempt at imparting that world view to the next generation.

Rashid’s father was a non-practicing muslim (as he recounts in a passage about accepting yourself and others), and one gets the impression that his world is a deeply materialistic place, a place where spirituality of any kind has little place (key quote from the section about managing your own death: “Why can’t someone order a casket from Gucci or Prada?”). This seems fitting for a pontificating industrial designer, on one hand: this is a man who makes things, after all. Famous, iconic things. Things we might admire in a catalogue or exclusive storefront window.

On the other hand, it’s clear that Rashid is driven to communicate more than just advice and instructions. His is a thoroughly materialistic ethics, presented in perhaps the only way that such a project can be presented in the 2000s. Rashid’s desire is, I think, to intervene in the increasing occurrence of young people who simply don’t appear to have any idea how to do things, how to live. He does this in a way that is reasonably dignified – not preachy, not against a millennial backdrop of impending doom, not as the wise words of an old man (Design Your Self was published when he was 46). He offers advice based on reason alone, strange as that may seem.

If you can suspend your disbelief long enough – and, perhaps, skip over the portions where he tells you that black is out and that you should wear white and pink – there’s actually a lot to learn here. A little is about design and how one might structure one’s surroundings and activities; a lot is (old-fashioned) common sense, brought into the 21st century by a smart, accomplished and charismatic man.

It’s the sort of book you might find in a second hand bookstore on a Saturday afternoon, and before you know it, it’s Sunday night and you’re lounging on an orange couch with rounded edges in your newly remodeled loft apartment wearing white jeans and silver sneakers, wondering whether you should really have ordered that Gucci casket after all.

(Jazz Dancing in Berlin, 1926 – German Federal Archives via Wikimedia Commons)

For someone who thinks of himself as both musical and deeply interested in listening to all kinds of music, I had, previously, studiously avoided listening to jazz. While I had been taught about jazz in high school (Improvisation! Dissonances! Drugs! Trumpets!), I think I had mostly seen New Orleans jazz as interesting but limited, swing (and its various revivals) as quaint and melodious but not very fulfilling and been put off by bebop’s endless “noodling.” Really put off.

My aversion wasn’t a blanket refusal, of course: I had explored certain things because I had found a connection to them, and – as a voracious music listener – it wasn’t particularly hard to find exposure even when I wasn’t looking. So I did have, in my collection:

• Billie Holiday: Because you can’t avoid her as one of the most, if not the most, compelling singer in the history of recorded popular music;
• Louis Armstrong: Because the Hot Fives and Sevens transcend their time and audio limitations completely;
• Django Reinhardt: Because he was an extraordinarily interesting guitar player and his story is one of the craziest of any musician I’ve come across;
• Nina Simone: Because it was easy to find a connection to her through my interest in the blues;
• Bill Frisell: Because he created an interesting, challenging hybrid between jazz and country/folk, and it was a sound that strongly appealed to me (still does), a sparse exploration of popular music in a style not unlike Ry Cooder’s in a way;
• Cassandra Wilson: Because she has a fantastic voice and sang Son House and Robert Johnson songs as if they were standards and created an entirely new, eerie kind of music;
• Keith Jarrett: I didn’t really explore very much of his oeuvre, but I was familiar with The Köln Concert and a few other solo recordings – I thought this was interesting and unusual music that had strong rhythmic and folk/New Age elements that I really enjoyed;
• Madeleine Peyroux: Because on a good day, she manages to sound very much like Billie Holiday, which is to say a lot. She’s an excellent performer of other people’s material and creates a lovely, warm, entertaining sound that draws you in (although I’m not so sure about her most recent effort which features her own compositions);
• Miles Davis: Because, as someone interested in the history of rock, you couldn’t exactly ignore Miles’ late 60s/early 70s electric recordings, particularly the live material, featuring various bands that, frankly, rocked harder than Jimi Hendrix and Led Zeppelin put together;
• The Mahavishnu Orchestra: Because, after exploring Miles Davis’ Bitches Brew you can’t really ignore some of the stuff that came in its wake, and this seemed approachable (although, I have to say, I never felt entirely sure why this was classified as jazz and not prog rock).

Lately, I’ve been exploring jazz almost exclusively (for a month or two, anyway). I’ve discovered countless hours of fantastic music. I’m starting to piece together the history of it as I read Ted Gioia’s The History of Jazz and I feel like a kid in a candy store, discovering this great genre to which I had been closed all these years.

The History of Jazz

Ted Gioia. Oxford University Press, USA 1998, Paperback, 480 pages, $10.00

I’ll be reporting my thoughts about my discoveries right here on Teabowl.

2012

Daniel Pinchbeck. Tarcher 2007, Paperback, 416 pages, $5.99

Toward 2012

Daniel Pinchbeck. Tarcher 2008, Paperback, 368 pages, $1.57

Also, an insightful and entertaining review of Toward 2012 from the New York Times. Many of the essays are available at Reality Sandwich.

How to Cook Everything Vegetarian

Alan Witschonke (Illustrator). Wiley 2007, Hardcover, 1008 pages, $19.83

Super Natural Cooking

Heidi Swanson. Celestial Arts 2007, Paperback, 224 pages, $11.61

Heidi Swanson’s blog – 101 Cookbooks – is a daily must-read for the beautiful recipes and pictures.

Best Music Writing 2008 (Da Capo Best Music Writing)

Nelson George (Editor). Da Capo Press 2008, Paperback, 360 pages, $0.75

Best Music Writing by Da Capo Press has been an excellent series over the years. Each year’s volume covers the best music writing (pop, jazz, not much classical), and for me, it’s proven a very useful compendium as I simply don’t have the time to sleuth out all those sources myself.