Winter has always been an ideal time for making a big pot of chili. Full of spices and served hot, it's the perfect anecdote to a chilly day. It's also the ultimate dish for a large group, whether you're having a big family dinner or a Super Bowl party.

I used to think chili had to have meat in it to be interesting. I figured the slow roasted beef in my recipe provided the stew's deep and substantial flavors. So I was surprised to find that a vegetarian chili I recently made had its own robust complexity that was just as satisfying. And, unlike meat chili, the vegetarian variety only took an hour to prepare and cost less than $10 to make for a family of four.

Now I do love my meat chili, but because it uses beef chuck, it takes hours to braise, so making it is a bit of an event. Three-bean chili, on the other hand, takes little more time than preparing a standard weekday dinner if you use canned beans. And, if you want something really special you can start your preparations the night before and boil up a batch of dried beans.

Preparing vegetarian chili is a bit like planting a flower garden. You want it colorful and lush without being overbearing. Using a variety of chilies, from fresh to canned, dried and powdered, is the key to achieving something that is smoky and deep with just the right amount of heat. And while some recipes I've seen out there call for a hodgepodge of vegetables, I try to avoid making my chili look like a version of vegetables on parade. Instead I like to partner my beans and the various chilies with other ingredients that will accent their flavors, like beer, coffee, corn and Mexican chocolate. Simmered together everything coalesces into a rich and hearty whole.

So whether you're making a weeknight family dinner, or in need of a dish that will satisfy a crowd, it's a good time to enjoy a pot of chili.

Three-Bean Vegetarian Chili

Makes: Enough for 5-6 people (can easily be doubled)

Ingredients:
1 Tbsp vegetable or corn oil
3 cans or 6 cups homemade cooked beans (pinto, kidney, black or some of each)
1 large onion chopped
2 Anaheim peppers chopped
1 small or a ½ large jalapeno pepper
1 carrot diced
2 medium or one large bell pepper (I use red or orange but green is also fine)
½ can tomato paste
1 15 oz can diced tomatoes
1 cup medium-body beer (I like Negro Modelo)
½ cup brewed coffee
2 Tbsp chili powder (mild or Chipotle)
1 Tbsp ground cumin
½ tsp dried and ground coriander seed
2 Tbsp dried Mexican or regular oregano (crushed between your hands)
1 tsp salt
1-2 chilis from a can chipotle chiles in adobo sauce (depending on how spicy you want your chili)
1 cup fresh or frozen corn kernals
2 Tbsp masa harina or finely ground corn meal (optional)
2 tsp grated Mexican chocolate or cocoa powder (optional)

Note: you can just freeze the chipotle chilies you don't use

Possible Toppings
Sour cream
Diced white or spring onions
Grated cheese
Crumbled corn chips
Olives
Corn nuts

Preparation:

1. Heat a large heavy pot (I like to use a cast-iron Dutch oven) on medium high heat. When the pot is heated, add in 1 Tbsp oil and then add in your chopped onion, jalapeno, carrot, and Anaheim peppers. Sauté for 5-7 minutes or until onions are translucent.

2. Mix in the tomato paste along with the chili powder, cumin, ground coriander, salt and oregano. Let cook on medium heat for 2-3 minutes.

3. Add in the beer, diced tomatoes and chopped bell pepper. Stir and then mix in the beans, coffee and chipotle chili in adobo sauce.

4. Bring the chili to a soft boil and then cover and set the burner to simmer. Cook for at least 45 minutes to one hour, stirring every so often to make sure the chili doesn't burn on the bottom of the pot.

5. Once all the flavors have melded, stir in the chocolate, corn and masa harina.

6. If the chili seems too soupy, or if it's a little too spicy, add another tablespoon of masa harina. Mix in thoroughly.

7. Simmer for another 10 minutes and then serve with your favorite toppings and cornbread.

Anyone who's ever browsed through the baskets of Star Route Farms or Green Gulch Farm knows what beautiful greens look like. Bunches of taut, brilliantly verdant kale and chard, each leaf perfectly ruffled or puckered, turgid and bright, rustling together crisp as taffeta or a new dollar bill.

Such perfection is no mean feat for an organic farm, where insidious leaf-miners and flea beetles (to name just two of a whole host of burrowing, munching hungry creatures who have a greedy lust for chard and arugula unmatched by even Alice Waters) can turn a row of gorgeous leaves into hole-punched eyelet overnight. Strong plants, good soil, a lot of attention, companion plantings that feed beneficial bugs--all these help. But so does accepting that your crop is always going to be on a bell curve, and not every leaf can be above average.

Of course, restaurant chefs (and the picky shoppers paying top dollar at Ferry Plaza) want perfection. Providing impeccable produce year after year has made the reputation of these local farms. But what happens to all the delectable but not-quite-gorgeous-enough stuff?

Thanks to Marin Organic, it's showing up on the plates of those who need it most: active, hungry, growing kids.

Every Monday, Scott Davidson, Marin Organic's School Lunch and Gleaning Program Manager, meets up with an all-ages group of volunteers at a selected farm. The task is simple: go through rows that have already been harvested for sale, and pick the best of what's left. The produce is boxed, rinsed, and loaded onto Marin Organic's truck. Cooled overnight, it's delivered the next day to schools, camps, and/or after-school programs all over Marin, either for free or at very low cost.

Fresh, nutritious, locally-grown produce goes to the kitchen and turns into lunch--and because there's no cost to the farm, and very little cost in labor, participating schools actually save money, money that can then be spent on getting more healthy food to their students.

Anyone with a couple of hours free on a Monday afternoon can join the Glean Team. Sign up online or over the phone, and an email detailing the next week's location will be sent to you every Friday. Usually, the location flip-flops between Green Gulch and Star Route, with a few other farms making occasional appearances.

Wear a jacket and don't-mind-getting-muddy shoes, and bring a few tote and/or plastic bags for your post-gleaning haul. (After the gleaning is done, volunteers can go through the harvested section yet again and pick for themselves.)

Last Monday, we left a hot, sunny afternoon in Oakland for the cool, foggy twists of the Shoreline Highway, bumping down the eucalyptus-lined road to the Zen Center's Green Gulch Farm. As you might expect from a longtime Buddhist retreat cupped close to the ocean, the whole place is soaked in peace and abundantly quiet. The joy jumps out in color: ravishingly purple bursts of lavender, whorled-pink roses, black-red pincushion flowers, vermillion-tipped raspberry canes and espaliered apples and pears weighted with green-and-gold fruit. Yellow-spattered mustard plants gone to flower reach up six feet high over the broccoli and cabbage rows we've come to harvest.

These weed-laced rows are going to be mowed under tomorrow, Scott tells us. The biggest, fattest heads of broccoli and cauliflower have already been picked, but sharp eyes can find side shoots, mini-heads growing next to where the main stalk was broken off. These tender, bite-sized florets are gold to school-kitchen chefs, he tells us, easy to cook and easy to eat.

We fan out down the rows. Everyone likes the hunt, especially the teenage boys in the crew. The leaves are huge and heavy, hiding the score, but underneath, the tender stalks snap easily and our recycled waxed-cardboard boxes fill up fast. We move onto small, loosely curled heads of cabbage, then over to red-veined plumes of ruby chard, puckery dino kale and curled Bloomsdale spinach.

We're mindful to take only the best-looking stuff, part of the education process of eating local and organic. Because it's being given away, it has to look better, even, than what's bought: No one, even a cash-strapped camp or school, wants to feel like a dumping ground for wormy charity carrots, no matter how much Vitamin A they might provide. It's not hard, however: there are still plenty of lovely greens left, enough to fill at least twenty-five or thirty boxes, if not more.

Scott points out the clumps of nettles growing in between the rows. This weed is probably the most nutritious thing growing on the farm (sellable for at least $6 a pound at a farmers' market) but the leaves will cause a brief, itchy sting if touched. They do leave their mark on my wrists and knees as I pick, but I don't mind: I've happily paid good money for nettle soup and nettle pasta at Delfina. Tomorrow's breakfast will be emerald eggs, scrambled with sauteed nettles. (Once cooked, they're harmless and delicious, especially rich in B vitamins. Just wear gloves, or use tongs, when working with the raw item.)

By six o'clock, the boxes are neatly stacked in the truck. Now we can go over the rows one more time, picking for ourselves. Now I'm not so particular: holey chard, nettle tips, tiny volunteer beets and potatoes all go into my bag. We'll be living off this bounty for a few days at least, while back at the farm, the tractor will be turning under the last few roots and leaves, making room for a new planting.

Green Gulch Greens Pie
This adaptable, calzone-like pie is inspired by Greek spanikopita. You could easily replace the yeast dough with six or seven sheets of defrosted phyllo dough, brushing melted butter between each sheet before filling and sealing.

Any mixture of reasonably tender greens will work here, including chard, spinach, orach, mustard, radish or turnip tops, lacinato (dino) kale, and beet greens. If you want to add in some tougher greens, like collards, kale, or broccoli leaves, be sure to shred them very finely so they'll cook as fast as the softer greens. A handful of strongly flavored greens, like arugula, parsley, or sorrel can be tossed in as an accent.

Makes 2 pies, enough to serve 6-8

Ingredients:
For dough:
1 1/2 tsp yeast (1/2 package)
3/4 cup lukewarm water
2 cups all-purpose white flour, or 1 cup white flour mixed with 1 cup whole wheat flour
1 tbsp cornmeal
1 tsp salt
1 tbsp olive oil

For filling:
approximately 10 cups shredded mixed greens
1 large onion, peeled and diced (about 1 cup)
4 cloves garlic, peeled and chopped
2 tablespoons olive oil
1/4 tsp freshly grated nutmeg, or to taste
Juice and grated rind of 1 lemon
2 oz. feta cheese, crumbled
1 oz. ricotta salata, crumbled
Salt, if needed
2 eggs
2 tbsp raw rice
Egg wash (optional): 1 egg yolk beaten with 1 tbsp water

Preparation:
1. To make dough: Dissolve yeast in water and let sit for a few minutes. In a large bowl, stir together flour, cornmeal and salt. Pour in yeast mixture and olive oil. Stir to make a pliable dough.

2. On a lightly floured surface, knead dough for 5-8 minutes, until it feels springy and elastic. Rinse out bowl, coat lightly with olive oil, and return dough to the bowl, turning to coat with oil.

3. Cover bowl with a clean damp towel and let dough rise in a warm place until doubled in bulk, about 1 1/2 hours. Punch down and divide dough in two.

4. While dough is rising, make filling: Place a large saute pan over medium-low heat. Add oil, then onions and garlic. Cook, stirring frequently, until onions are soft and translucent but not browned.

5. Add greens by the handful, stirring, until they collapse and cook down. (You make have to do this in batches, removing the already cooked greens to a separate bowl.)

6. When all the greens are cooked, add nutmeg, lemon juice and lemon rind, and crumbled cheeses. Let cool slightly, and taste for seasoning, adding salt if needed. Stir in rice and beaten eggs, and let sit for 15 minutes.

7. To assemble, preheat oven to 375F. Roll and stretch one dough ball into a long oval. Lightly grease a large rimmed baking sheet. Place dough on sheet. Cover half the oval with greens filling, leaving an inch-wide margin. Fold over remaining dough and pinch together to seal. Repeat with remaining portion of dough.

8. If desired, brush pies with egg wash. Bake for 45-50 minutes, until dough is firm and golden brown.

For more information or to sign up with the Glean Team, go to Marin Organic. The next outing will be Monday, Aug. 9th, from 4-6pm at Star Route Farms in Bolinas.

With a nod to Earth Month, Food and Wine This Week looks at urban gardens emerging in San Francisco, and rides along with Food Runners as they pick up leftover food for distribution to those in need. Leslie Sbrocco is back with Bay Area Bites blogger, Stephanie Rosenbaum and Mary Risley, founder of Food Runners -- an organization who's mission is to help alleviate hunger in San Francisco, to help prevent waste and to help create community.

Related Posts and Websites:

• Food Runners website
• Food Runners and Urban Gardens
• Edible Gardening with Planting Justice
• A Pigeon in Every Cart: Wading Through Food Waste in California
• Little City Gardens
• Little City Gardens makes a go of urban agriculture in San Francisco
• Alemany Farm
• Garden for the Environment
• The Free Farm
• Free Farm Stand
• Planting Justice
• Neighborhood Fruit
• Produce to the People
• Ghost Town Farm

From graffiti to mural at Free Farm

In a place as densely populated as the Bay Area, one person's bright idea can make a big impact. Just ask Mary Risley, owner of Tante Marie's Cooking School and the founder of Food Runners. As a cooking teacher, Risley loved being part of San Francisco's vibrant food culture. But she also knew that part of the price of perfection for the city's restaurants, bakeries, cafes, and cooking schools was a willingness to toss anything that wasn't 100% great. Which meant a lot of food--good quality, clean, unused but not sellable--was filling up a lot of dumpsters at the end of every business day.

With the city's ever-rising cost of living (and ever-squeezed public and private resources for homeless shelters, low-income families, and crisis centers), how could such food get out of the landfill and into the hands of the hungry? Businesses were busy, nonprofits were stretched; the missing link was just that, a link that would connect the food industry with organizations dedicated to feeding the hungry.

Looking for a way to start giving back to the city that had nourished her and supported her business, Risley went first to the SF Food Bank, but realized she wanted to be doing a lot more than packing bags of canned goods. So the Food Bank got her in touch with Daily Bread, an organization in Berkeley run by Carolyn North, which picked up unused food and spread it around to the city's homeless shelters and crisis centers. She asked North if she could start a similar organization across the bay, and North agreed, so long as she changed the name. So in 1987, Risley started Food Runners, a nonprofit dedicated to feeding the hungry by reducing food waste.

As a businesswoman, Risley wanted to make Food Runners into a professional, easy-to-use system that would be simple and mutually beneficial for both businesses and service organizations. 23 years later, Food Runners relies on a network of 250 volunteers who pick up excess usable food from over 400 sites every weekday, from every type of place from small cafes and big hotels to local schools and corporate cafeterias. The food is delivered by volunteers' car and the company's refrigerated truck to shelters and neighborhood food pantries.

When I managed a cafe in the Ferry Building, I knew that all I had to do was box up our extra pastries at the end of every day. The next morning, a cheerful volunteer would show up, pick up the boxes and sign off on my tax-deductible tally sheet. Later that day, those pastries, made with organic ingredients and fruit from a local family farm, might be feeding parents and kids at a drop-in center for homeless families, or adding a little bit of sweetness to a seniors' lunch.

There are other ways to turn waste into resources. The easiest way to start? Drop that banana peel into your green bin. One banana peel multiplied by over 700,000 residents in San Francisco alone means that many tons of food waste (everything from that four-day-old hunk of burrito at the back of the fridge to orange peels and onion skins) are diverted from the waste stream every day via the city's green-waste bins. All that stinky stuff goes to Jepson Prairie Organics, a composting facility near Vacaville. Over the course of about 30 days, it's transformed into high-quality compost that's ready for use by local farms, nurseries, and vineyards.

Or, what about starting from the very beginning, and growing more food from scratch right here in the city? Even in cities as highly populated as San Francisco, Oakland, and Berkeley, a surprisingly amount of arable land is still available. Just look at the Free Farm, which was started on a vacant lot at Gough and Eddy Streets in January of this year.

Pastor Megan Rohrer, a young Lutheran pastor who works with a variety of homeless communities around the city as the executive director of Welcome Ministry, wanted to expand the work she was doing, going from feeding the hungry of San Francisco to growing food for those same communities. The St. Paulus Lutheran church was willing to offer an empty lot it owned to her and a dedicated community of volunteers to make a garden.

Meanwhile Tree, a longtime food-justice activist and community gardener as well as the founder of the Mission's popular Free Farmstand, was looking for a place to grow more local food to supply the farmstand. Once Megan's church connections met Tree's gardening expertise, the Free Farm was born. With grants from the Mesa Foundation along with several local Episcopal and Lutheran churches, plus a whole lot of wheelbarrow-pushing volunteer labor, the weedy lot has undergone an astonishing transformation.

What was once a trash-strewn, needle-littered eyesore that neighbors called "The Pit" is now a welcoming, mural-lined space full of neatly mounded raised beds planted with salad mix, potatoes, beans, broccoli and lettuce. Bricks salvaged from the St. Paulus church (which stood on the space before burning down in 1995) now form strawberry beds on the hillside and a winding spiral bed planted with flowers, herbs, and vegetables. Cold frames and a newly built greenhouse are filled with trays of tiny seedlings, everything from kale to tomatoes to marigolds started from seeds donated by church communities across the country. Bright garden-themed murals by local artist Leanne C. Miller cover the concrete wall on the west side, and there are plans to bring more artists and sculptors into the garden to create site-specific works.

Volunteers get down and dirty every Wednesday and Saturday from 10am to 2pm, building infrastructure, hauling mulch, manure and compost, planting seedlings, waterings, and more. A volunteer-made vegan lunch, often featuring produce harvested from the garden, is shared by all. Volunteers will also share in the harvest, with excess supplying the Free Farmstand (Rohrer hopes to establish another neighborhood Free Farmstand on the site) as well as providing fresh local produce for twice-weekly homeless dinners organized by Welcome. (For more information on Welcome's additional garden projects around the Bay Area, go to Urban Share.)

At the educational Garden for the Environment in the Inner Sunset, weekend workshops teach everything from composting basics to chicken husbandry. Want to spread the word? If you're a San Francisco resident, you can sign up for a three-month gardening and compost educator program that will give you all the necessary tools to teach the basics of urban green gardening and composting. Just want to do a little digging? Volunteer days are Wednesday and Saturdays, 10am to 3pm, with pizza from nearby Arizmendi Bakery to share. The garden's also a great place to get ideas for your own backyard. Organized by concept, there are examples of low-water gardens, native plants, edibles, and more.

In association with the SF Parks Trust, the Garden for the Environment is also offering Garden City, a three-part class on creating an urban farm or community garden, on May 2nd, 9th, and 16th. Topics include locating and identifying available land, working with the city to get the proper permits, building a community of volunteers, and the horticultural nuts and bolts of productive edible gardening and landscaping.

And finally, don't forget about what's growing in your own backyard. Want to turn your lawn into a food forest? Check out a recent blog post about how a week (and a bunch of friends and neighbors) transformed one Oakland bungalow, thanks to the help of permaculture designers Planting Justice. Neighborhood Fruit and Produce for the People can help you find, glean or distribute excess fruit in your neighborhood. Got extra lemons or loquats? Don't waste them, share them!

Most reviews of Gristle will start with an assessment of Moby, the fantastically irritating middle-aged multi-platinum electronic musician-turned-food policy expert who edited the book. Based on what I know of Moby, I do not like him. It wouldn't be fair to hate him. Hating is a tough thing to do, even when you really know someone well enough to feel okay about doing it. While, for a long time, Moby barely registered a chirp on my pop culture radar, he first became the subject of my considerable distaste in 1999, when his mega-smash album Play came out, saturating radio station playlists, television commercials, and department store dressing rooms with "soulful" Alan Lomax-recorded blues samples wrapped in pulsing techno. The songs were inescapable and horrible. Much to my dismay, they chased me everywhere I went. More recently, in late March, weeks before this book arrived in my mailbox, I thought of Moby again when the New York Times published a Sunday Routine feature about him. Every section reads as if the author (Moby, in his first-person voice, presumably as recorded and edited by writer Lizette Alvarez) cannot help but be astounded by his own charm and cleverness. He names his favorite kind of organic tea, brags about his wretched-sounding pancakes, revels in online Scrabble victories, rattles off a vile but fiercely healthy smoothie recipe, and (on account of Calvinist ancestors) admits to a few "guilty" pleasures -- including that leviathan of vice, "mass market fiction." A friend linked to the article on Facebook, adding a highly derisive caption. A day later, a mutual friend commented on the post, sharing a shameful nugget of hearsay from yet another friend who apparently knows Moby quite well -- well enough to text with him, at least. According to this undoubtedly suspect source, when Moby texts, he dutifully concludes each message with a jaunty sign-off: "This is Moby, on the text."

While Gristle's editor might come across as a smug self-righteous cartoon, an easy target given the trappings he's prone to wearing, the message he, co-editor Miyun Park, and the host of noble experts they've gathered are pushing is real and worthy of very serious discussion. Simply put, this book -- a featherweight at 144 pages -- has forced me to re-contemplate the advantages of vegetarianism in the face of a corporation-clogged taxpayer-funded mainstream meat industry dedicated to processing artificially cheap, unhealthy, and potentially dangerous animal protein products for mass consumption, with a startling disregard for its underpaid workers and the environment.

In Gristle, each contributor handles a brief chapter with a one word title focusing on a single negative aspect of factory farming's effect on people, animals, and the world -- an issue to house arguments supported, in turn, by facts. It's a tidy assemblage of frill-free prose and grim, gray-scale visual aids. There's a uniformity to the writing and presentation uncommon to a collection of such far-flung perspectives, but the diversity nips any argument that Moby's cast of contributors are all cut from the same animal rights activist cloth.

There's Brendan Brazier, Canadian Ironman triathlon competitor, weighing in on health. asserting that, "leaving farm animals out of your diet is a simple decision with life-long benefits." Whole Foods honcho and dedicated libertarian John Mackey talks taxes, revealing that Americans currently spend 8% of their incomes on food, whereas, one hundred years ago, they spent over five times as much -- a change brought about, in part, by government subsidies that distort markets "tremendously." Christine Chavez and Julie Chavez Rodriguez, human rights activists and granddaughters of Cesar Chavez, write about the abysmal working conditions in factory farms. Paul and Phyllis Willis, the manager of Niman Ranch Pork Company and a community activist respectively, discuss how factory farms tear up communities: In just two decades, Iowa has seen an 84% decrease in the number of farms raising pigs, yet almost five times as many pigs. That means bigger farms, and less farmers. Lauren Bush, C.E.O. and co-founder of FEED as well as the niece of George W., focuses on the environment, and Diet for a Small Planet author Frances Moore Lappe and her daughter Anne address global warming, offering up a specific morsel I actually remember stewing over in my youth: 16 pounds of grain and soy are required to raise one pound of steak.

I have written before about my own experiment with vegetarianism. I never ate much meat as a kid, largely because my parents didn't. I stopped altogether when I was 13, in 1993. I tasted fish again in 2001, and poultry a few years later. Before long, I was a full-bore bone-gnawing omnivore, even more adventurous and meat-centric once I began writing frequently about food for amusement and income. Reading Gristle sent me back to a time I often struggle to remember -- the moment I decided to stop eating meat -- and about halfway through the book, I wondered why I had. There was a time not long ago when I saw the meatless phase of my young life largely as a drawn-out gesture of gentle rebellion against my cultural surroundings, a politicized substitute for dying my hair green. I was only vocal and remotely militant about vegetarianism for a few years, and yet I remained a vegetarian for many more. Did I stick to my diet out of habit? Was I trapped by a desire to maintain consistency? Making sense of the flights of logic generated by my 16-year-old mind always requires major effort, but in this matter, I was probably never so stupid. Meat -- as most of America knows it, and has known it for decades -- might not be murder, but it is a huge unholy mess.

Growing up, I always liked animals, particularly cute ones like pigs and sheep, but I didn't stop eating them because they blinked, breathed, and made noises. The philosophical heft of my decision didn't approach Moby's. Once, as he describes in the aforementioned New York Times piece, "the most pretentious person [he] has ever met, Moby outlines his reasoning in the introduction. Essentially, he followed the golden rule as extended to animals, with Blaise Pascal's Gambit wading in: "I took the logic of ["betting" on God's existence as opposed to non-existence] and applied it. . .I decided that it's probably a better "bet" to extend compassion as far and wide as possible as opposed to restricting the lengths to which I would extend compassion." Me, I just had a vague aesthetic aversion. Meat seemed heavy, dirty, and unclean. There were just icky inklings, though I soon found facts to back them up. In Gristle, those facts come off as particularly devastating.

Gristle rather delicately avoids directly damning all carnivorous acts. For all its polemics and pamphlet-esque tone, this book is, at its core, optimistic, hinging on the idea that, if people really know the facts about where the meat they eat comes from, they'll change their ways. They'll eat less meat, and make sure that the meat they do eat comes from truly reputable, responsible farms -- even if it's expensive or inconvenient to do so. Maybe they'll even eschew it entirely. In the introduction, Moby writes, "if enough people find out about the hidden ramifications of industrialized farmed animal production, we'll eventually see a shift away from supporting these destructive industries, which would lead to a healthier, cleaner, and more humane world."

I'm not positive that would help. In his chapter, John Mackey suggests that, "the only reason our abuse of animals is still tolerated is because most people aren't aware of it." While the average American may not know the details of how domesticated animals are treated in factory farms, the net of ills cast by the meat industry's participants is too huge, perfect, and ridiculous not to warrant suspicion -- especially considering how much attention a slew of best-sellers have devoted to it. Even with Moby's name attached, a wee volume from a smallish press is going to be read by the same people who already read Diet for a Small Planet, Fast Food Nation, and The Omnivore's Dilemma -- not exactly obscure texts, but not quite Oprah, MTV, and Good Morning America either. In her epilogue, Miyun Park writes:

"[S]omehow industrial animal agribusiness has largely managed to get away with oppressing workers, making us and our children unhealthy, slowly but surely destroying rural communities, contributing to global warming and global hunger, cultivating the emergence of devastating zoonotic diseases, and polluting the water we drink, the air we breathe, and the land on which we all live -- all while getting subsidized by taxpayers."

It's astonishing, and while saying "enough" to the injustice is fine, the problem isn't that the information hasn't at least begun to trickle down. The problem is that a lot of people really don't care that much. It's one thing to read about abused, confined fowl, tortured, manure-smeared stacks of swine, polluted rivers, and drug-resistant bacteria, and be horrified, but it's another thing entirely to implement a dramatic lifestyle shift. It isn't, as Brazier puts it, a "simple change."

Speaking personally, fast food restaurants -- where Americans inhale most of their factory-farmed meat -- are easy to avoid. At the same time, my favorite local ethnic eateries likely source from the same coops and lots. Grease-laden sidewalk tacos, Filipino breakfast silogs, sausages at Lao dives, Shanghai soup dumplings, Cambodian curries, and Korean short ribs don't always come with a Niman Ranch stamp. Enjoying those flavors, supporting those small businesses, and by extension, the communities from which they spring means eating meat that does harm. It's a tough call sometimes. At many area restaurants catering to diners with Slow Food-friendly values, menus proudly name the farms and ranches charged with raising the meat they serve. High-end grocery stores do the same, and they're rewarded with customers from the same relatively moneyed, socially-conscious pool. To put it mildly, the circumstances encourage elitism, and discourage a wider diffusion of responsibly raised animal products.

I take my meat-eating opportunities one bite at a time. I'm not nostalgic for the vegetarian days, but I struggle with guilt for grazing broadly, especially when I'm pretty sure I'm eating an animal whose life was miserable and brief. Eating in a professional capacity scrambles good intentions. One week, I shop at the right stores and eat very little meat, and only that which I know to be of worthy provenance, and the next, there's a new torta to taste, and taste it I must. Since reading Gristle -- an amped-up Cliff's Notes for the pro-vegetarian literature I inhaled as a teenager -- the predicament has been a little tougher. Dancing above my head like Mango, Moby is there, surveying every bite, sipping a cup of organic white tea, wagging a skinny little finger, eyes closed, his huge pale noggin shaking back and forth. You can't have the torta. No, no, no, he says softly. Sadly, I can't just smack him away.

Recently, I started watching Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution on ABC. In his enthusiasm and optimism, Oliver amazes. Sometimes, for the same reasons, he also annoys. He really started making me wince in the second episode, when he was frantically goading on a sweet, morbidly obese sixth grader's cooking efforts with the fairly far-fetched promise that stir-fry expertise would endear him to the young ladies he coveted. Still, the third episode focusing on high-schoolers was more moving than it was excruciating. Some corny moments aside, his mission to improve the quality of the meals that kids and their parents wolf down is commendable and daring; to see it stretch to the United States' most nutrient-deprived corners is satisfying. While the point of their inclusion may have been a by-product of Oliver's primary intent to reform Huntington, West Virginia's diet, the footage of elementary school students tossing all greenery and non-processed items from their trays into huge gray garbage bins especially resonated with me. I'm a part-time substitute teacher for the San Francisco Unified School District, and I have seen that scene before, in very high-definition: industrial-strength receptacles stuffed to the hilt with perfectly good apples, salads, rolls, and unopened milk containers.

Sadly, the ritualized dumping only scratches the surface of what increasingly appears to be a food waste pandemic in the state of California. Each year, California farmers, restaurants and supermarkets toss six million tons of edible food. To put the amount in perspective, Oakland's Oracle Arena, or the Staples Center in Los Angeles, sports and entertainment venues with capacities approaching 20,000, could be filled to the brim, 35 times over. According to Hunger in the Golden State, a collaborative endeavor by California Watch and USC's Annenberg School for Communication and Journalism, food products represent 15.5% of our state's waste. Last week, the project reported on its findings, alleging that major "shortcomings...at every step...along California's food distribution chain [allows] vast amounts of food to go to waste in landfills despite laws and tax incentives that encourage food donations." Sharing the evidence in detail would exhaust the confines of this meager forum, but I'll let you chew on a few stirring nuggets, presented succinctly:

Last year, only 940 of the 90,000 eating and drinking establishments operating in California worked with Food Donation Connection, overwhelmingly the largest program linking food service donors with hunger relief agencies. In 2009, such wonders of sustainability as Pizza Hut and KFC accounted for over half of the participants. Why? Mom-and-pop restaurants and single-owner franchises aren't eligible for a tax deduction for food donations, and thus often elect not to get involved.

California grows half our country's fruits, vegetables and nuts, yet experts guess that farmers plow under millions of tons of produce after each harvest. While farmers don't exactly avoid efficiency, when a crop carries a price incapable of paying for its harvest, few trying to make a living off sales see the point in doubling down on a loss. Although food bank donations and gleaning operations have helped, a shockingly high percentage of most commercial crops never leave their fields. Thousands of pounds of produce are abandoned -- enough to feed whole cities. According to Hidden Harvest, a Coachella-based outfit, one local effort managed to "save" 14,000 of approximately 140,000 pounds of carrots left above ground. A 2004 study by University of Arizona anthropologist Timothy Jones claims that up to 10% of some crops, like cauliflower for example, simply rot. The overall figure for crop waste across the country, he says, may be even higher -- closer to 20%.

Many grocery stores -- like Safeway, for example -- participate in some kind of hunger relief program. At the same time, many chains only donate bakery items, or at least balk at donating perishable produce. Even though a 1996 federal statute protects donations made in good faith against liabilities, stores reportedly worry they'd be held responsible if anyone fell ill after eating donated meat or vegetables. "Many grocery stores decline to give food because they're either unaware of the liability protection in place or they feign ignorance of the law because they don't want to bother," Jonathon Bloom, author of the blog Wasted Food, was quoted as saying. "Almost as often, stores know they'd win such a lawsuit, but are afraid of the negative publicity they'd face if such a suit happened."

Restaurants, farms, stores and schools aren't the only culprits. Perfectly edible food represents a quarter of all waste tossed away by California households.

"A certain amount of waste is inevitable in all forms of business," write the piece's authors Tina Mather, Kim Daniels and Shannon Pence. "It’s built into the economics of every production and manufacturing cycle -- whether it is clothes-making, home-building or newspaper printing. But the commodity of food takes on added significance...Health officials, researchers, economists, farmers and corporate leaders interviewed for this project say that more efficient production and distribution of our food could help feed millions of families."

On a large-scale, organized level, non-profits are trying to stem the tide of edible refuse.

According to Hunger in the Golden State, "numerous volunteer organizations work to 're-harvest' California's vast produce landscape and divert edible food that would be wasted from grocery stores and restaurants into California's food banks and soup kitchens." On a local and personal level, individuals and fledgling groups engage in a broad spectrum of holistic efforts to ensure less food ends up in the garbage.

As outlined in Twilight Greenaway's Free Falling blog, dumpster diving less frequently evokes unpopular punk bands from meth-y Pacific Northwest enclaves scrounging half-eaten pizzas at rest stops, instead feeling more and more like a responsible practice on the part of people who are simultaneously thrifty and serious about what they eat. A Monday article in the Chronicle tipped a hat to Food Runners, a 23-year-old San Francisco organization redistributing food that "would be otherwise discarded." Websites like Neighborhood Fruit connect San Franciscans weighed down with bounty from backyard trees to fellow citizens happy to take some off their hands. On Sundays, from one to three p.m., Free Farm Stand holds court at Treat and 23rd, giving away produce grown in urban farms and gardens -- according to the website, over 6,700 pounds so far.

The free food movement is gaining momentum for a lot of reasons. For one, it's cheaper to pick up a bag of free apples than go to a farmer's market. While no one has ever liked the idea of wasting good food, taking direct steps to actually cut back on and use existing food waste have required a heightened state of consciousness and crummy economic circumstances compelling even financially secure folks to trim costs. I explored urban gardens last week, but I've been thinking about it more. Along with foraging, it's the sort of noble and attractive pursuit that easily comes off as elitist. Home and community gardens can make produce cheaper and encourage self-sufficiency independent from food-ferrying corporate systems, but most home gardeners sowing heirloom lettuce seeds aren't in it to save a buck. Time is a luxury, and gardens often necessitate commitments poor, hard-working people with families can't muster. Nonetheless, the organized mopping up of waste, the gardens and the webs of community activity materializing amongst these efforts -- they coincide with a cultural shift -- certainly in the Bay Area, and, to some extent, nation-wide, in large cities -- pushing back to a time when food production was not industrialized, when pathways from farms to tables were clearer, more straightforward and less harmful to the environment.

The push carries with it a whiff of fear. Making use of all the food we do produce is important certainly, not just because the less fortunate need to eat and we must put systems in place to feed them, ideally with food that's already being grown and raised, but because the less fortunate are growing in numbers. Unemployment woes and public service cuts impact everyone one way or another. From collapse, to war, to terrorism, to disease and earthquakes, our giant food supply system is vulnerable. The other day, I read about a new book by Brett L. Markham called Mini Farming: Self-Sufficiency on 1/4 Acre. I haven't read the book itself, but the promotional website casts the mission in a somewhat somber tone:

"Let's be honest. The economy is a mess and likely to remain so for some time. The GAO has reported that Peak Oil is a real and proximate phenomenon that will make things even worse. Wages, even in high tech industries, have been stagnant for several years. We have no idea what challenges the future might bring. The time to start raising your own food is not when people are already starving."

Maybe there's a grim survivalist tint to all this. Last week, Oakland Local peddled a pretty fine April Fool's joke about street pigeon becoming the signature dish at a new Oakland restaurant. Free-range domesticated squab is one thing; a mangy pigeon raised on bottle caps and cigarette butts is another. It's not so far-fetched though. A 2008 Wired article only half-jokingly suggested we start eating these "waste-scavenging, protein-generating biomachines" that so hardily populate our urban landscape. Someday, maybe la cucina povera will be a necessity, and it will be truly poor. We stay alive on bugs and vermin -- things we can't kill off, things that often scrape by -- fittingly -- feasting on our garbage. In the Twitter-free food-verse of our Mad Maxian future, perhaps we'll all push grocery carts through alleys filled with shredded feathery pigeon carcasses, stopping to harvest whatever sprouts up through cracks in the concrete.

Related Links:

Hunger in the Golden State
Twitter: @hunger_in_CA
Facebook: Hunger in the Golden State

Waste on The California Report
Part One: Hunger in the Land of Plenty
Part Two: The Food Stamp Quandary
Part Three: Waste

California Watch
Twitter: @CaliforniaWatch
Facebook: California Watch
Flickr: California Watch Photo Pool

Jonathan Bloom's Wasted Food blog
Twitter: @WastedFood
Flickr: Food Waste photos

About a million years ago, when I was waitressing my way through college, I worked at a prime rib house. The name of the restaurant sounded more like a strip club than a steak joint -- I kid you not, it was The Gentleman's Choice. We were known for our prime cuts of beef plus a very decent bar. Our signature dish was, obviously, prime rib. But those thick slabs of beef were always a bit of a turn off for me. I was happy to avoid the meat overload with au jus and a baked potato side dish in favor of the simpler steak sandwich. While the prime rib plates seemed excessive for my tastes, the sandwich offered great beef flavor but in a crusty bun (and I really love the crunch). Since that time, I've always had a soft spot in my heart for a good steak sandwich.

Now although the sandwich from The Gentleman's Choice is my Platonic ideal, I can very rarely even try to duplicate it as the main ingredient is thinly sliced prime rib -- something only occasionally available at my house the day after Christmas. I'm also not one to make roast beef very often (actually, never). So a couple of years ago, after watching a Barefoot Contessa episode where Ina Garten roasted an enormous (and very expensive) filet of beef (which is essentially one large filet mignon) for her steak sandwich lunch, I went to the butcher feeling completely depressed. I wanted my own hearty steak sandwich, but knew that tenderloin and prime rib decadence wasn't in the cards for me as I didn't have Ina's budget. After chatting with the butcher about my dilemma, he came up with a solution: cube steak.

Yes, this 1950s staple is my route to affordable steak sandwich success. Made from either the top or bottom round, cube steak undergoes a serious pounding that helps tenderize it into submission. So, although you start off with a chewier piece of meat than the upmarket prime rib roast or tenderloin, you end up with something that works beautifully when pressed into a bun. As a busy mom, I also love that this dish takes less than 10 minutes to make.

Since my discovery, I've made various iterations of the steak sandwich, topping it with everything from cheese and onions for a mock Philly cheese steak, to mushrooms, onions and gravy for unadulterated comfort food. Sure, I would still love a thinly-sliced prime rib sandwich every now and again, but between Christmases, I'm happy to stick with the more inexpensive variety.

Comforting Cube Steak Sandwich

Makes: 4 sandwiches

Ingredients:
8 slices of cube steak
1 large onion thinly sliced
1 cup brown or white mushrooms thinly sliced
1/4 cup flour
1/2 tsp kosher or sea salt
1/4 tsp black pepper
2 Tbsp butter
2 Tbsp olive oil
1 Tbsp Worcestershire sauce
1/2 cup beer, wine or broth
More salt and pepper to taste
4 crunchy rolls
Horseradish and mayonnaise (optional)

Preparation:
1. Sprinkle salt and pepper on the meat.
2. Place flour on a flat plate and then add the remaining seasonings to the flour.
3. Dredge the meat in the flour and then set aside.
4. Heat the 1 Tbsp butter and 1 Tbsp oil in a large pan (I like to use my cast iron). When it bubbles and the pan is not, lay half the meat into the pan. Cook on each side for 2-3 minutes, or until done.
5. Remove meat from the pan and then add the remaining butter and oil, repeat step #4 and then remove the meat from the pan.
6. Add the onions and Worcestershire sauce to the pan along with extra oil if needed and sauté until soft. Add the sliced mushrooms and continue to sauté until they are soft and integrated into the onions. Remove vegetables from the pan.
7. Lower the heat and then add the beer, wine or broth to the pan, scraping up everything on the bottom of the pan. Because the meat was dredged in flour you should be able to make a nice gravy from the pan drippings, but if the gravy is too thin, make a slurry with some flour and more wine or beer and add to sauce to thicken.
8. Slice rolls (you can preheat these if you like) and then place two cooked cube steaks on each, topping with onions, mushrooms and gravy. Serve with a slather of some mayonnaise mixed with horseradish if desired.

Mock Philly Cheese Steak

If you're interested in a sandwich that's more like a Philly cheese steak, just omit the mushrooms and add some sliced peppers to the pan instead. Also, instead of making gravy just top the sandwich with cheese sauce (recipe below).

Makes: 4 sandwiches

Ingredients:
8 slices of cube steak
1 large onion thinly sliced
1 large red pepper thinly sliced
1 Tbsp Worcestershire sauce
1 cup cheese sauce (see recipe below)
1/2 tsp kosher or sea salt
1/4 tsp black pepper
2 Tbsp butter
2 Tbsp olive oil
More salt and pepper to taste
4 crunchy rolls

Preparation:
1. Sprinkle salt and pepper on the meat and then marinade in Worcestershire sauce for at least five minutes.
2. Heat the 1 Tbsp butter and 1 Tbsp oil in a large pan (I like to use my cast iron). When it bubbles and the pan is not, lay half the meat into the pan. Cook on each side for 2-3 minutes, or until done.
3. Remove meat from the pan and then add the remaining butter and oil, repeat step #2 and then remove the meat from the pan.
4. Add the onions to the pan along with Worcestershire sauce from the marinade. Add extra oil if needed and sauté until soft. Add the sliced peppers and continue to sauté until they are soft and integrated into the onions. Remove vegetables from the pan.
5. Meanwhile, make your cheese sauce (recipe below).
6. Slice rolls (you can preheat these if you like) and then place two cooked cube steaks on each, topping with onions and peppers. Slather on some cheese sauce and serve.

Cheese Sauce

Makes: a little over 1 1/2 cups

Ingredients:
3 Tbsp butter
1 Tbsp flour
1 cup whole or 2% warmed milk
1 cup grated cheese (mild cheddar, provolone, Swiss, Gruyere, American, a mix of each or whatever you like)
Salt and pepper to taste

Preparation:
1. Heat butter in a medium sauce pan.
2. When butter start to bubble, add in the flour and mix to create a roux.
3. Slowly add in the milk and whisk to incorporate.
4. Turn off the heat and mix in the cheese. It should melt in nicely.
5. Add salt and pepper to taste.

I have a few extended family members who hate soup. For some reason, this really bugs me. As a lover of all chowders, consommés, gumbos and bisques, I take it almost as a personal affront that they have no interest in homemade chicken or mushroom soup, clam chowder, or minestrone (particularly when I make them). Thankfully, my husband and children share my passion for all things steamy, creamy and brothy.

Knowing this, it won't surprise you to hear that we eat a lot of soup at my house. My daughters are actually little soup fanatics. It is a cure-all for any ill. Have the sniffles? Ask mom to make homemade chicken soup. Your friend was mean to you at recess? Take comfort in a cup of miso soup. It's rainy and cold outside? Then obviously we need cream of tomato soup with grilled cheese sandwiches. Yes, from head colds to just an all-around bad day, soup makes their lives a little brighter.

My daughters' hands-down favorite is a tie between homemade chicken soup and miso soup from our local sushi spot. But boiling a chicken takes time and the Japanese restaurant is a hassle to walk or drive to on a busy night. So, because necessity is the mother of invention, I've created a few easy-to-prepare soups that can be made in less than ten minutes from foods most of us have on hand in our freezers and pantries. As any working mom can tell you, quick and easy is essential for a week-night dinner, and these recipes are both; yet I also love how these homey dishes are made almost entirely of vegetables, making them just as nutritious for my family as they are tasty.

Now, I realize some of you may scoff at the idea of using frozen vegetables or canned tomatoes, but when you're trying to cook seasonally, they're really your only option in the winter if you want to use something that isn't either a root vegetable or a leafy green. Plus many frozen vegetables are picked at the height of the season, so, if you don't overcook them, their natural summer sweetness really comes through.

After quickly sautéing the vegetables, you just add in some chicken or vegetable stock, milk with butter, and a few seasonings; ten minutes later, you will see that these hearty and warm dishes are worthy of your full attention.

If you have your own quick pantry or freezer soup recipe, I'd love to hear about it.

Homemade Cream of Tomato Soup

My husband's favorite childhood rainy-day lunch was Campbell's Tomato Soup with grilled cheese sandwiches. Too bad the poor guy grew up to have a wife who sneers at canned soups and refuses to buy them. But after years of eating this quick pantry soup, he's never looked back. Just like their dad, our kids are now eating cream of tomato soup with grilled cheese sandwiches on rainy days, although theirs lacks corn syrup and preservatives.

Makes: 4-6 servings

Ingredients:

1 15 oz can of diced tomatoes, crushed tomatoes, or whole plum tomatoes that have been blended.
1/2 medium onion diced
1 medium carrot diced
1 cup béchamel sauce (double recipe below)
1 Tbsp olive oil
1 Tbsp flour
1 cup chicken or vegetable broth
1 Tbsp dried dill, oregano or basil
Salt and pepper to taste

Preparation:

1. Heat oil in a medium-sized pot.
2. Add onions and carrots and cook for 3-5 minutes or until onions start to become translucent.
3. Stir in tomatoes and then add in the broth and simmer for 5 minutes.
4. In a separate pot, make the béchamel sauce.
5. If tomatoes are chunky, puree using either a hand or stand blender.
6. Whisk the béchamel into the tomato mixture then stir in the dried herbs (dill, basil or oregano) and simmer for about three minutes.
7. Add salt and pepper to taste. Top with a dollop of sour cream or crème fraiche for added creaminess and some fresh basil or dill to garnish. Serve with grilled cheese sandwiches.

Broken Freezer Frozen Pea Soup

This soup was invented after my freezer broke. While cleaning out the defrosting mess, I realized that I have a problem buying frozen peas. Now I am not being hyperbolic here. I had 7 bags of frozen peas in my freezer. Why did I have 7 bags of peas? I am asking myself that same question. In any case, this soup is fast, easy, and even uses leftover mashed potatoes or rice, if you have those on hand. If not, you can plop in some béchamel for substance and creaminess.
Makes: 4-6 servings

Ingredients:

1 bag frozen peas
1 Tbsp olive oil
1 Tbsp butter
1/2 onion or 1/4 cup shallots finely chopped
2 cups chicken or vegetable broth
1/2 cup leftover mashed potatoes, the inside of a baked potato, or cooked rice. If you don’t have any of these around, just use 1/2 cup béchamel sauce (see recipe below).
1/4 cup milk
Salt and pepper to taste

Preparation:

1. Heat oil and butter in a medium-sized pot.
2. Add onions and cook until translucent.
3. Add peas and cook for a few minutes.
4. Add broth and simmer for five minutes.
5. Add potatoes, rice or béchamel sauce and then add the remaining milk. If using béchamel sauce, wait until step 6 sto see if the soup needs to be thinned a bit before adding the extra 1/4 cup milk. Mix thoroughly.
6. Puree ingredients thoroughly using either a hand or stand blender. If using béchamel sauce, add the remaining milk now only if soup needs to be thinned a bit.
7. Add salt and pepper to taste and serve with a splash of olive oil or a small dollop of crème fraiche. Serve with bread.

Creamy Corn Chowder with Pancetta and Peppers

I love the natural sweet flavor of corn in this easy-to-prepare soup. The pancetta adds a great salty flavor, but if you prefer to keep this dish vegetarian, just omit it. Bursting with flavor, this is the perfect soup for a weekend lunch or weeknight dinner. Serve with quesadillas or a big salad.

Makes: 4-6 servings

Ingredients:

1 16 oz bag frozen corn kernels
1/4 cup chopped peppers (pasilla are nice, but you can also use red, yellow or green bell peppers or even a can of chopped roasted peppers)
1/4 cup chopped pancetta or bacon (optional)
1/4 cup chopped shallots, onions, or green onions
2 cups chicken or vegetable broth
1 tsp olive oil
1 Tbsp butter
1/2 cup whole or low-fat milk

Preparation:

1. Heat oil in a medium-sized pot and sauté chopped pancetta on medium-high heat for 2 minutes.
2. Add onions and peppers and cook for 3-5 minutes or until vegetables soften
3. Add corn and cook on medium-high for a few minutes.
4. Add in broth and cook at a low boil for 3-5 minutes.
5. Puree using a hand or stand blender.
6. Add the milk and and simmer for a few minutes.
7. Salt and pepper to taste. If desired, top with a chopped cilantro or another herb to garnish.

Béchamel Sauce
Makes: 1/2 cup
1/2 cup whole or low-fat milk
2 Tbsp butter
1 Tbsp flour
dash of salt, pepper and nutmeg

Preparation:
1. melt butter and then mix in the flour to create a roux.
2. Add in the milk and simmer until it thickens.
3. Season with salt, pepper and a dash of nutmeg to taste.

This week, there will be many boxes of chocolates given in the name of love; we'll also see a lot of stuffed teddy bears and bouquets of flowers. And although I would never turn any of these down (well, maybe the teddy bears, but definitely not the chocolates), when I want to tell my family I love them -- whether for Valentine's Day or any other time - I cook. And, at least as far as I'm concerned, nothing quite says I love you like a homemade pot pie. After all, this relative of the savory meat pasty contains the homiest comfort food ingredients: butter crust and gravy (oh yeah, and chicken too).

As I mentioned last week, making a pot pie is a great way to use leftovers from a roasted chicken. But you shouldn't only think of this dish as a method for getting rid of that dark or white meat no one wanted the night before. After all, pot pies -- with gravy bubbling out of the cracks of its buttery crust -- are so good that I often roast a chicken simply so we can have pot pies the next day. And, unlike other dishes, this meal tops the favorites list for both kids and adults alike, which means everyone is happy on chicken pot pie night.

There are various ways to make chicken pot pie, but I think the easiest (and tastiest) is to use leftover chicken with its drippings and a bit of fat. As my Italian Catholic mother would say, it's a sin to throw away those lovely pan juices after roasting a chicken. Those drippings contain a chicken essence that is impossible to replicate with butter and store bought chicken stock. No, the most richly-flavored gravies are always made with the source material.

But it's not enough to make a great gravy; the key to a fantastic pot pie is making enough gravy to fill your dish. Your chicken and vegetables should be swimming in brown gravy goodness, because really, who wants to eat a dry pot pie. This is why saving all the ingredients from a roasted chicken is so important. In addition to the drippings, you should also save the carcass and wings, which you'll use to make a rich chicken stock that is essential for producing a hearty supply of gravy. I usually have some store-bought broth on hand, but trust me, use this only in case of emergency as your gravy will have more nuanced flavors and a fuller taste if you make your stock from scratch.

Now don't shake your head and mutter something about not having the time to make that stock, because – yes I know I say this all the time – it's easy and fast. Really. It is. You just add some water to the carcass along with a half onion and some celery, carrots, and a bay leaf and you're done. Truly. That's it. Plus you only need to cook it for around 20 minutes – okay so that's not super fast, but it's also not so time intensive that you can't do it. How often do you spend 20 minutes digging around your refrigerator and pantry trying to find something easy and fast to cook? By the time you've finished searching, your stock could be made.

As for the fillings, they are really up to you. In addition to your chicken, you can add anything you like. I personally like potatoes, mushrooms, peas and carrots in my pot pies (I'm a savory pie traditionalist, at heart), but my daughters hate the carrots, so I only add them to my own serving. If broccoli and zucchini sound appetizing, add them in. Hate mushrooms? Leave them out. Wondering what to do with those turnips you bought? Just use them instead of the potatoes. It's your pot pie, so make it the way you like it.

When it comes time to throw everything together, you can make one big casserole in a porcelain or glass dish, or, if you have individual casserole dishes (mine look like large ramekins), you can use those instead. If you are big on crust, feel free to line your casserole dish(es) with crust (and then prebake so it's not soggy) and then also top the pies with another layer; I, however, think one layer on top is usually sufficient (and less caloric – not that I'm counting calories after using chicken fat).

So this year, forget the flowers and express your love with a chicken pot pie.

Chicken Pot Pie

Makes: One large or four individual pot pies

Ingredients:

Leftovers from a roasted chicken (around 3 cups meat plus the carcass, wings, pan drippings and 1 Tbsp chicken fat)
5 cups water
½ large onion
3 carrots
1 stalk celery
1 bay leaf
1 Tbsp butter
1/4 cup flour
½ tsp dried thyme or 1 tsp fresh thyme
1 cup cubed potatoes or turnips
6 brown or white mushrooms sliced
¾ cup frozen peas
1 round of pie crust (recipe below) or puff pastry
Butter for greasing your casserole dishes

Preparation:

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees

2. Set the chicken carcass (stripped of meat), wings, and neck in a large saucepan and cover with water. Include your pan drippings, which should have settled in the bottom of your container overnight. Leave out the fat for now. You may have to break up the carcass so it's fully submerged. Add in 2 chopped carrots, the chopped celery stalk, the half onion (also chopped) and the bay leaf. Simmer for 20 - 30 minutes or until you have a decent chicken stock.

3. While your stock is simmering, chop up 3 cups of chicken meat. You can use dark or white meat or a combination of the two (which I think tastes best). This is also a great time to peel and chop up your potatoes or turnips, slice your mushrooms, and chop that last carrot (or whatever vegetables you're using).

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4. Once the stock is ready, strain the liquid and set aside. You should have about five cups.

5. In a large pan, heat up 1 Tbsp chicken fat plus another Tbsp butter. When bubbly, add in the flour and thyme and then mix to create a roux. Whisk in 4 cups of your chicken stock slowly, stirring constantly to avoid lumps. Salt and pepper to taste.

6. Add in the potatoes or turnips along with the carrots and cover. Simmer for 7-10 minutes or until the vegetables are al dente.

7. Add in the chicken, mushrooms and peas. Mix in more stock if the gravy is too thick, or if it's too thin, create a slurry in a separate dish with a tablespoon of cornstarch and enough water to create a thin paste and then mix in as much as needed to thicken. Taste again to see if you need more salt, pepper or thyme.

8. Turn off heat, cover pan and let sit while you roll out your pie dough or puff pastry. If using small individual casserole dishes, cut the dough to fit each dish.

9. Butter the inside of each dish and then fill with your chicken and gravy mixture. Top each dish with your pie dough or puff pastry. Cut a hole or slit into each piece of dough so the casserole can breath in the oven.

10. Bake for 30 minutes. When crust is golden brown and gravy is bubbling out of the cracks, remove pot pies from oven. Let sit for five minutes and then serve with a big salad.

Flaky Pie or Tart Dough
Adapted from a recipe by Kim Laidlaw

Makes: Enough for one 10-inch tart

Ingredients:

1 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon kosher or sea salt
6 tablespoons very cold unsalted butter, cut into cubes
1/4 cup ice water + 1 tablespoon

Preparation:

1. To make the crust, in the bowl of a food processor, stir together the flour, and salt. Sprinkle the butter over the top and process for a few seconds, or just until the butter is slightly broken up into the flour but still in visible pieces. Sprinkle the water over the flour mixture evenly, then process until the mixture just starts to come together.

2. Dump the mixture out of the bowl onto 2 large sheets of plastic wrap. Press the dough together into a mound and then wrap with plastic and press into a flat disk. Refrigerate the dough until chilled, about 30 minutes or up to 1 day, or freeze for up to 1 month.

Long long ago (which in this digital age means a few decades prior to now) people used to eat chicken for fancy Sunday suppers. After a day at church, the family would gather around the dinner table. Bobby, with his favorite baseball cap set next to his dish, and Sue, with hair in pigtails, claimed the drumsticks. Meanwhile Mother in her apron and Father in a button-down shirt had their fill of the breasts or thighs. After dinner, Ma would collect the remainder of the chicken -- carcass, drippings and all -- so she could make a nice soup or meat pie later in the week. Doesn’t that sound homey, and well... quaint?

Well, in the modern-day equivalent of this scenario, this is my house on a Sunday (although insert a morning reading the New York Times instead of church, bickering kids who roll their eyes at their parents for the mild-tempered Bobby and Sue, and jeans with t-shirts and sweaters for the clothes. Oh, and toss in a crazy dog and a messy house). I've also been known to make a whole chicken on a Tuesday or Thursday (or, as you've probably picked up by now, any day of the week). So although my version of this American tale is a little different, the premise remains the same: I bake a whole chicken for one dinner, and then wrap up everything (and I mean everything) that is left for another meal (or two) later in the week.

Although my method for cooking chicken was once de rigueur in America, it now seems old fashioned. Chicken, however, is more popular than ever. According to the USDA, "Chicken consumption more than doubled between 1970 and 2004, from 27.4 pounds per person to 59.2 pounds." Yet during this time of increased chicken eating, the tradition of baking a whole bird for a family dinner has almost disappeared.

Most poultry eaters these days simply pick up a package of boneless, skinless chicken breasts at the grocery store (and that’s only if they're actually cooking dinner instead of picking up take-out). They think that not having to deal with those bones makes cooking easier (a notion I will argue in a second). Plus most people are also more interested in the breasts because they have less fat than those delicious thighs and legs. But if you're cooking from scratch (that is, not purchasing something pre-cooked with a ton of fat, salt and starches added to it) one leg or thigh will not clog your arteries or make you fat, especially if you eat it with a large serving of vegetables. According to the Daily Plate (a food calorie site), a thigh has 237 calories, while a grilled skinless breast has 120 calories; sure the calorie count is almost double, but 237 calories for a main part of your dinner is quite good when you consider that a chicken burrito has 334 calories in it. Also, if you eat that chicken breast lightly breaded and fried (as many people will), you jump up to 247 calories with 133 fat calories (the baked thigh has only 12 fat calories). That thigh is no longer looking so fattening, is it?

Now I realize that many people don't like to make a whole chicken because they think it’s difficult and time intensive. But, just like pudding and pancakes, nothing could be further from the truth. Unlike boneless and skinless breasts, which often need to be dolled up in a pan with other ingredients because they become dry and a bit tasteless when baked on their own, a whole chicken is a simple endeavor that has juicy results. In the name of full disclosure, I need to admit that baking a chicken takes about an hour and a half, but other than the first 5-7 minutes of prep work, this is all baking time.

Making a whole chicken is also a great way to stretch your food dollar as it will bear two to three meals for your family. After our roasted chicken dinner, I often make a soup out of the carcass, chicken pot pie with gravy (which I'll cover next week), or creamy chicken and rice casserole. If I get an especially large chicken or if I make baked potatoes with the first meal (which fills everyone up) I then usually have enough chicken left over for a third meal where only a minimal amount of meat is required, such as tacos, quesadillas, or stir fry.

Here are some general directions for baking a chicken. I am not providing a recipe because this meal is so easy that strict instructions aren't necessary. Give it a try and you'll see how good this traditional family meal can taste, while also saving you a few bucks later in the week when you’re eating some delicious pot pies.

How to Bake a Chicken

Preparing Your Chicken

Remove the offal from the chicken (I like to cook these up for my dog, but you can do whatever you like with them, which includes sticking them in the compost bin) and rinse out the bird, including the inner cavity. Set your chicken in a baking pan and pat dry with paper towels. You want to keep the skin fairly dry so it's crispier later.

Decide what type of fat you want to use to flavor your chicken. Now is the time to get creative. I've used olive oil mixed with lemon zest, fresh rosemary and garlic; butter; and even a bit of bacon fat (only about a tablespoon for the entire bird, which ends up tasting pretty amazing, by the way). Whatever you use, be sure to also season with salt and pepper (less salt if using bacon grease), as well as any herbs you like (I usually go with thyme). Spread everything all over the chicken and also under the breast skin.

Place a chopped half onion inside the cavity. This will help flavor the chicken as well as the drippings. You could also add a half lemon, herbs, or an apple.

Baking the Chicken

I bake my chicken in a 375 degree convection oven. If you don't have convection, just bake at 400 degrees. Be sure to get the oven nice and hot before you place the chicken in it.

The key to baking a great chicken is to cover it for about 60 minutes and then finish it off, uncovered so the skin gets crispy, for another 20-30 minutes or until clear juices run from the meat (the USDA recommends cooking until the chicken is 165 degrees). The larger your chicken, the more time you'll need to bake it. Don't be afraid to use a meat thermometer. Better to be safe than sorry.

You can use a pan with a top (such as a Le Creuset Dutch oven) or you can simply tightly cover a standard baking dish or large cast-iron pan with aluminum foil. I've tried both methods with equally succulent results. Either way, covering the bird will keep the juices from evaporating in the hot oven. You'll also get some nice pan drippings that you can use later in the week for a soup or chicken pot pie gravy base.

If your chicken drippings start to dry out once you uncover your pan, simply add between ¼ and a ½ cup of water or chicken stock to the pan. This will keep your drippings from burning. Don't worry about the extra moisture in the oven. I've done this numerous times and the skin on my chicken was still crispy.

Serving the Chicken
Carving a chicken can seem a bit daunting, but once you see how easy it is (below) you’ll hopefully feel ready to conquer the job. I found this great video on You Tube (what would we do without You Tube?), which stars Norman Weinstein of the Institute of Culinary Education giving instructions on how to carve a chicken. Well done, Norman!

Saving the Leftovers

Be sure to save EVERYTHING that is left over from your scrumptious chicken dinner. This means stick the carcass, leftover meat, wings, drippings and even the fat into a big container to be used later. Next week I'll show you what to do with all this; in the meantime, happy chicken eating.