While I was in China recently, I began to seriously consider breakfast=rice. I know there are noodles, dumplings, jook, soups, steamed savoury and stuffed breads, but it was the rice: so beautiful pristine and fragrant, that called me back every day, as soon as I woke up. The first few days I ate my way around the breakfast buffet, until I hit upon the things I really loved; along the way I discovered a window where I could walk up and ask for special ingredients such as hot chile oil. One of the things about being in a land, like China, where the language is so far off your points of reference there is no common ground. You don’t speak THEIR language, they don’t speak YOURS, you have to find another way of communicating. Luckily, I was always good at mime.

So, asking for chile oil using mime was bound to be a lot of  fun! I pointed to my mouth, I took an air-bite, my eyes popped, i looked shocked, i fanned my mouth: it never failed: the women in the kitchen window making these special things broke into laughs. They called their friends to come see me for a repeat performance, and then they smilingly handed over a bowl of chile oil, and sometimes when i could figure out how to ask for it, a lovely fried egg. (fried egg+chile oil+rice=best breakfast ever).

Here is a snapshot of my lovely kitchen ladies in their little window-kitchen handing over special stuff such as my daily bowl of hot chile oil, or here I think it is an egg. A delicious fried egg.

Okay, I’m skipping over the part of the story that has me discovering the window-ladies, and how when I overheard any of my conference buddies expressing an interest in a fried egg, I would run over to the ladies and put up my finger: one, for one egg, two for two. The ladies laughed, they liked me, I was so exotic to them. They had, in fact, never had westerners in this hotel, so I can only imagine how they perceived me.

My buddies who I ran back with the fried eggs on a plate were amazed at how I had achieved this magical thing, producing a beautiful fried egg almost momentarily. I never told them my secret: the ladies. You know, shamefully, I liked the illusion of being a magical creature.

Getting back to my rice breakfast. I know, I know, blogs, they tell you what they ate today, they tell you things like, how this is the best whatever ever! and how their kids eat every bite. And how you’re going to yoga later. stuff like that, which you probably don’t want to hear.

So you’re going to ask me: why is YOUR rice breakfast, inspired by YOUR TRIP to China (already I can see you stifling yawns and reaching for the click on your computer) different? why is it any more interesting?

I’ll tell you: good steamed rice, topped with spicy (as in Sichuan) chile oil/paste, is delicious, something you can eat every day and vary it according to what else you have in the kitchen, in the garden, in your mind. A fried egg, oh yes! tofu in any shape or form? of course! some leftover meatballs, did you even need to ask? garlicky cucumber salad? (yes! and it was on the breakfast buffet, EVERY day, garlicky cucumber salad is possibly my favourite Chinese dish, though of course to me any cucumber salad will be my favourite dish wherever I am).

But really, keeping things simple, the other morning I noticed the lush growth of my laksa leaves (Vietnamese rau ram, Vietnamese coriander, culantro) and wondered what a few leaves in my rice+chile paste would be like. It was brilliant, and when I scattered a handful of toasted crisp salted peanuts on top, I’m telling you: incredible and so simple. The sort of dish you can eat for breakfast lunch or dinner, with freshly cooked rice or rice that has cooled to room temperature. It is the most perfect dish you can imagine if you like all of the ingredients. Because all of the ingredients are at their most delicious best, yet: combined? they are AWESOME.

My (and YOUR) rice breakfast

Steamed rice: The thing about a bowl of beautiful rice lies in the soaking. Somehow it is the soaking that releases the fragrance as the rice cooks; also letting it sit for a little while after cooked, to settle down, that helps make good rice really beautiful. I recommend soaking for all white rice that you are cooking by steaming, even for Persian rice or chelo.

Right now my favourite rice is Thai jasmine rice: it is fragrant, and though long-grain has just enough starch/stickiness to make it come together delightfully. Here is how I make my rice, these days. First: rinse the rice to get rid of its starch, talc, etc; place rice in saucepan and cover with cold water. Let sit and soak for about 30 minutes.

Drain, then return to pot, add enough water to cover the rice by about a finger-knuckle, cover and bring to the boil. Here is where I get very unscientific. Boil it a minute or two. Turn off the heat and let it sit for about 8 minutes and steam; the smaller batch of rice the shorter cooking time the larger pot of rice, the longer it will take. I like to add a few pinches of salt at this point. And sometimes, if i’m really in the mood for a richer rice, a small amount of chicken fat. But thats not when I’m eating it this austere, chile+herb+peanut breakfast way. Remove the lid, taste a grain or two, if the rice is dry add a small amount of water, if too wet, sigh….take lid off and cook it a few minutes without the lid. OR you could use a rice cooker which really is the best. OR you could just attach yourself to someone Asian and learn their family rice-cooking techniques. I am on the look-out for this situation as we speak.

For your breakfast:

Your beautiful rice, and I am happy eating it leftover from the day before, not refrigerated, but at room temperature

Handful salted preferably dry roasted peanuts

A few leaves rau ram, vietnamese coriander, laksa leaf, culantro, etc whatever you call it: tear up a few leaves–and i prefer the young leaves for this dish, if you have them

Sichuan chile paste and oil, as desired (either from a jar, or homemade–see below)

Using a rice paddle, or a big spoon, scoop out as much rice as you like into your bowl, then scatter with the toasted peanuts and rau ram herb, torn into small pieces or chopped, as you like.

Dab as much Sichuan chile paste with some of the oil onto your rice, and enjoy your breakfast.

If your rice is too spicy from the chile paste, just add more rice. Oh, yes, and really: don’t fool yourself that you can eat this with a fork or spoon: the chopsticks are of acute atmospheric and aesthetic importance! (though you’ll probably need to put the bowl near your face as you ferry the rice to your mouth).

Chile paste+oil

Sichuan Chile Paste/Oil

The simplest chile oil consists of heating oil up then pouring it, sizzling, over a jar or bowl of chile flakes. As the chillies fizz in the heat of the hot oil, they toast and become one with the oil: chillies taking on the richness of oil, oil taking on the heat and flavour of the chillies.

In a jar or bowl, place a spoon to keep the glass from breaking in the heat of the hot oil; it will conduct the heat right on out of the jar or bowl.

Add a few spoonfuls of chile flakes: I use a combination of Turkish turkish flakes for their mildness of heat and aromatic taste, say 2 parts, then I add about one part hot chile flakes, the kind you might eat on a pizza. i might also break up a few whole dried chillies and put them in the jar. The choice is yours, but i find a nice combination of several different types gives the most depth of flavour.

About 1/2-3/4  cup/ 4-6 fluid ounces mild oil: traditionally vegetable, soy, safflower, sunflower oil is used; I prefer using olive oil as I always have it on hand and am convinced of its goodness.

Spice mixture: as desired: 1/4-1/2 tsp as desired cumin seeds, several big pinches powdered ginger, about 1/4 tsp szechuan peppercorns.

About 1/2 teaspoon salt

If desired; 1-2 teaspoons preserved fermented black beans (do not soak)

Aprox 3 tablespoons toasted sesame oil or as desired

Mix together the chillies, spices and salt in a well-washed jar or bowl and place a spoon in it to keep the vessel from shattering when you add the hot oil.

In a small saucepan heat the vegetable or olive oil until it just begins to bubble around the edges. Carefully pour the hot oil over the chillies, spices and salt mixture which will sizzle and smoke as the oil is absorbed. Take care to keep your face away from the hot oil and not to inhale the chile vapors.

When it cools a bit add the black beans and the sesame oil.

Leave it to cool, then cover with a lid; keep on the shelf to use as you like. It should keep a long time, as there are no ingredients such as garlic that could grow nasty bacteria, but I like to make small batches–enough to last a few weeks. And then I make it again.

Once you have the basics you can adjust it to your taste at the moment:

Chile Bean Oil

When I have only a little bit of Chinese chile bean sauce left in a jar i’ll add freshly made chile oil to it, and stir it through. The chile bean sauce is so hot so tangy, so salty, and so very deliicous. A great way of using the last bit of it.

Much Milder Chile Oil

To spoon on generously

Double the amount of oil, or even triple, quadruple it: you want the taste of the chillies but without the pain of its heat. A lot of oil and a small amount of chile still has flavour and zing.

Chile paste+oil, garlic

Garlic Chile Relish
Sooooooo good:

2-3 cloves garlic

1/4 teaspoon salt

About 1/4 cup of the chile paste=oil

Extra oil if chile paste is very hot

Crush the garlic and salt in a mortar and pestle until it forms a paste. Stir in the hot chile paste and oil, adding extra oil if needed to tame the heat.

Because of the garlic, the chile paste/oil will last no longer than 2 weeks or there will be a risk of poisoning (botulism). Best to make it fresh before serving.

Today the mercury is climbing. I’m stretched out in the garden surrounded by three panting Jack Russells and one sprawled in the shade kitty. Its humid, its beyond languid, and lets face it, too hot to cook. Luckily we have salad. And this salad is a perky one: only a few ingredients and, really, they don’t match.  You’ve got your lettuce leaves, nice for all salads and your cucumbers, good, then you’ve got your feta cheese and you’re probably thinking: oh yes, Greek salad!

Forget it, I’m grabbing a handful of Thai basil and throwing it in: aromatic,  anisey and redolant of Asia: somehow, together with the salty jolt of really good feta, it is like magic. I stuck a little chopped green onion in, too, though you could use red or white salad onions; then dressed it as if I were on a Greek island: lashings of extra virgin olive oil, and a good hit of wine vinegar.

The bowlful is all about refreshment and vibrancy and ease. Two things I recommend however: accompany by a nice hunk of good good bread like a pain levain, and if you can, bring your plate outside to the garden, or your terrace, or even into your front yard. If you have no outside access at all, eat it next to the window. The important thing that is the salad seems meant to be eaten as near to the open air as possible.

Summer Evening Salad of Lettuce, Feta, and Thai Basil

Serves 2 as a nearly main course

1 head butter letter or small green leaf lettuce, cleaned, washed and dried, separated into leaves

1/4 English cucumber, cut into thin slices

4 ounces feta cheese, cut or broken into bite sized chunks

Onion of choice: 2-3 green onions, thinly sliced, or about 1/2 red onion or mild white/yellow onion, thinly sliced

Big handful Thai basil leaves (tough stems removed); if leaves are big, coarsely tear or cut them

2-3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

About 2 teaspoons, or to taste, white wine vinegar

Salt and pepper (the amount of salt depends upon saltiness of the feta)

Arrange the lettuce in a salad bowl or plate, and scatter the cucumber, feta cheese, basil, and onions around the bowl or plate.

Drizzle with the evoo and vinegar, salt and pepper as desired, and eat!

A little bit of everything that came out of my summer 2014 vegetable pickle jar: cauliflower, red bell pepper, onion, celery, carrot, garlic, and one bay leaf!  in some jars, there are sliced jalapenos. The pickling mixture is a salt water brine plus a bit of vinegar.

They have been about 2 weeks in their pickle, and are pickle perfection right now: crisp crunchy sour and salty. Perfect for the first heatwave of the season.

The fetching little shocking pink jewels below, are diced pickled turnips: its hard to explain exactly why they are so luscious: I mean: a turnip? but oh, what happens to a turnip in its salt water and vinegar brine: it gets crisp, and tangy, and turns a flattering bright pink (from the addition of shredded beets/beetroots). I added a few cloves and a hunk of mildish hot pepper for flavour, too. You can’t tell its either clove or chile, but it just gives a bit of depth.

Both of these pickles are at their best chilled until crisp and COLD, eaten as part of a summer mezze or even breakfast: with feta or other white cheese, freshly baked bread or flatbread, sliced cucumber and maybe a handful of fresh herbs like dill, mint, tarragon, coriander. You can  just eat the pickles out of a jar–remember not to double dip your fork, you’ll want to if you’re like me–or you can put the pickles out on a plate looking really really pretty, like a summer pickle party, like this plate below which has both the pickle selection plus the pink turnips:

A snapshot of my pickle shelf: the chillies, the turnips, and behind them is the jar of mixed vegetables. Sitting in the sunshine for a few days with the light streaming through them, they are beautiful, like stained glass.

If the weather is quite sunny, however, at some point I put them into the refrigerator, or into a cool dark shelf; the heat from the sunshine on hot days is strong enough to “cook” the vegetables, and i want them to remain crisp and snappy!

And since it would be cruel of me to show you my pickles, then not tell you how to make them, following is a recipe of sorts. The important thing is 1. the size of the jars 2. the ration of the salt-water-vinegar.

And no, i never measure but will give you measurements here; after a few times you can take it way and make it your own.

My Mixed Pickles of Summer

Really, these are just a riff on giardiniera, most delicious for their freshness. These are short-keeping pickles, which should be refrigerated once ready–a few days–after starting off in a sunny window. They only keep about 2 weeks if we’re following the rules, but you know: i use so much salt in my pickles that I don’t worry about nasty bacteria–not sure they can withstand it!

About 4 jars, aprox 2 pints/ 1/2 lires each, with lids

Salt as needed (about 6-8 tablespoons)

about 1 cauliflower, broken or cut up into small bite sized florets

2-3 carrots, either sliced or cut into short sticks

2-3 celery stalks, cut into bite sized pieces

1/4 cabbage, cut into small chunks

2 red bell peppers, cut into bite sized pieces (or similar amount red romano peppers)

1-2 onions, cut into bite sized chunks

6 garlic cloves, cut into slices or slivers

a small piece of fresh chile or hot pepper, sliced, as desired

4-8 bay leaves

Optional: 1/2 tsp turmeric

Optional: about a teaspoon mustard seeds

Vinegar, any kind, as needed (about a cupfull  in total)

Prepare the jars and lids by either running through the dishwasher, or washing then pouring boiling water into each jar, taking care to place a spoon or other metal utensil in the jar to keep it from exploding or breaking.

When cool enough to handle, pour out the water.

Into each jar place about a tablespoon of salt, then start layering the vegetables, a few pieces of cauliflower, carrots, celery, cabbage and so forth, sprinkling with a bit of salt as you go until you reach the top, somewhere along the way adding the bay leaves; when you reach the top add the turmeric and mustard seeds if using.

Pour cold water over the vegetables until the liquid is about half to 2/3 way up the side of the jar, then finish up with vinegar until it reaches the top. Finish by adding a spoonful of salt to the top, then close each lid.

The vegetables will be fermenting and will be short-lived pickles; the liquid may leak, and you’ll want to open it every so often to be sure that they have enough liquid; add more water or vinegar if they don’t, and sprinkle the top with salt so that any vegetables that bob up above the liquid line won’t rot; once the top vegetables go bad, the whole jar goes bad and needs to be thrown away.

These vegetables keep about 2 weeks according to sources of safety, but really, they have so much salt in them, I feel they are safe for much longer. I have been eating through the jars for several weeks already; if there is any food biochemist out there, please let me know. I was all of us to be safe and happy, and i know we can’t be happy unless we are EATING PICKLES!

Once they have pickled themselves, keep them chilled in the fridge because they are at their best crunchy cold!

Middle Eastern Pickled Turnips

About 4  2-pint/ 1.2 litre jars (alternatively, you can use smaller jars; that way you only have one open at a time).

About: 1 kg/ 2 1/2 lbs turnips, preferably fresh and crisp; youngest are best because their insides are firm and crunchy

3-4 raw beets/beetroots or if only cooked and vacuum-packed beetroots are available, use them

About 6-8 tablespoons kosher salt

Vinegar–any kind, as needed

Optional: a few mildy spicy chillies, a few whole cloves or allspice berries per jar

Wash and peel the turnips. If you cut them into chunks they will pickle themselves pink much sooner and be easier to fish out of the jar. You can pickle them whole, it is traditional, but i have long gravitated towards the chunk sized pickles. Also its easier to put them into the jars. So after you wash and peel the turnips, cut them into thick slices or bite sized chunks, say, a little larger than a big fat grape or about the size of a quails egg, or slightly smaller than a hens egg. Or any size you want.

Prepare the jars and lids by running them through the dishwasher, which is easiest and most effective, or washing well and then pouring boiling water into each jar and lid, with a metal fork or spoon in each to conduct the heat so that the jars don’t break. I don’t have a dishwasher so i always just use boiling water.

Pour out the boiling water and you’re ready to go once the jars have cooled enough to handle.

Meanwhile, bring a lot of water to the boil; i suggest an electric kettle because i am in love with mine.

Now, into each jar place a tablespoon or two of the salt, then start to pack in the turnips and a little beets; when you get about a third of the way up, add another spoonful of salt, then continue with the turnips and beet/beetroots. Two thirds of the way up, you’ll want to add some more salt, then more turnips and beetroots. Along the way stick in the chillies and cloves or allspice berries.

When you get to the top, Pour boiling water about two thirds up, then add enough vinegar to reach the top, above the turnips.

Finish with a last spoonful of salt, then when it is cool enough, close the lid. You won’t need to do anything else. these pickles will be alive as they ferment, and every so often you will need to see what level the liquid is at, adding more water or vinegar, and topping with another bit of salt so that the vegetables, if they rise above the liquid level, are salted and therefore pickled, and not rotten. If they rot, your whole jar is spoiled.

When they are tasty and crisp, you will want to transfer them to the fridge as these salty crunchy pink jewels are at their most delicious when they are CHILLED.

It was the last day of Il Mostra Artiginati, the Firenze festival of artisanale foods. Our group of buddies–food writers Julia della Croce and Greg Patent,  Frances Mercado from Italian food website Gustiamo, and myself– decided to split into two groups for the morning then meet up in the afternoon, for lunch.

Julia and Greg were going to conduct in-depth, serious interviews with food producers; and to be honest, Frances and I were a bit more…..how shall I say? rambuncious? we just wanted to walk walk walk and taste taste taste then taste some more. We wanted to flirt with Italian guys, girl-talk with Italian women, drink a little bit of everything that required it, and pet every doggy that came our way.  In general, we wanted to treat our last day at the fair as a big italian food and life party. You can’t blame Julia and Greg for needing a little serious-journalist time without the two of us.

We started the day all together,sampling the most divine, blissful, meltingly luscious, i mean really: I’m running out of adjectives here. It was a creamy concoction of truffled gorgonzola. I was so glad I had painted my fingernails green, because the combination of my green-tipped fingers and the wonderful little tasting spoon of these cheese, made me about as happy as a person could be.

So,  meeting time and place designated, we  figured that even if we missed each other, we could text or email with GPS changes. As the fair was contained in a relatively small area, we thought it wouldn’t be possible to miss each other. And even if our two groups weren’t in contact, we knew that we would all be returning to visit this creamy, seductive cheese for more tastes, so we weren’t worried.

Which is really silly, because of course we were going to get lost. And while we all admitted to revisiting the cheese man many times in the course of the day, the reality was that we spent the afternoon playing hide and seek. Our plans for lunch and an afternoon together evolved into what felt like a film: as we found ourselves in adventure after adventure inbetween texts and scrambling around.

“We are in Sicily, sampling chocolate.” tapped out Julia. When we got there, Julia and Greg were no where to be found of course. But, THANK GOD, the chocolate was there, and abundant, and eager to be tasted.

I kept getting distracted by olives and beans and spices, all out in barrels. I am going to share something here, but its a secret between you and I: when no one is looking, and I am standing in front of a barrel of dried beans, all shiny and smooth, I like to….quietly slip my hand into them, swish it around a little bit, letting the smooth shiny coolness of the beans slip around my fingers, a sensation almost like water. almost like sand but softer, smoother. Delicious.

The Mostra had invited international guests with their wares, too: Tunisia, Iran, and India were among the guests. I lusted after the row of tajines from the Tunisia stand, while the owner grabbed me for a foto. I texted Julia and Greg: we are in Tunisia! But…..we waited and waited, and then….

We were lured to Iran:  and  tray after tray of luscious sweet things; at the moment I clicked this pic I was in the midst of choosing a bag of treats: The girl at the stand was so sweet: she smiled, she gave me samples….and yes, i bought a little bit of everything.

Julia and Greg emailed: Missed you in North Africa, but we are in Sardinia now. And so we raced back to Italy and found ourselves smack in the midst of smoked fish, salted fish, preserved tuna, anchovies, and especially: bottarga, the salted fish eggs that are pressed into a hard shape, dried, and eaten shaved or grated onto almost anything: thin shavings piled up on top of crostini or bruschetta, or grated on top of a bowl of al dente spaghetti. But wait: I am forgetting! All this running around chasing each other throughout the fair, when I have forgotten my promise:  all of the dogs in Firenze.

Perhaps, though,  I have over-promised. I have pictures of SOME of the dogs of Firenze, though Firenze is a small town and there are many many dogs! So many dogs, so many people loving the dogs; it reminded me of Paris back in the day when the cafes and restaurants were full of dogs and I was brought to fits of giggles watching them. Now, I am a bit blase to Paris and its love affair with dogs, though I do want to move there for the sheer fun I know that Jake, Oscar and Lambchop would have there, but here, in Firenze, I saw that doggies were also loved: they were cherished and doted on, and everywhere I went, I saw them: in womens arms, at the end of men’s leashes, in shops and restaurants and parks and cafes. One morning I went into a caffe-bar: it was small: maybe 10-12 seats. And there were already six different dogs there, sitting with their masters/mistresses, getting ready for the day.

Oh the dogs of Firenze, unlike my own mis-behaving Jack-pack, were so well behaved! I snapped pics wherever I could find pooches: in addition to doggies I saw so many very happy human faces too.

At the mostra, a man and his pug. This little pooch totally loving the fair, her little nose sniffing the air which smelled deliciously of salami, cheese, all sorts of good things. To be honest, I was sniffing the air too! And the lady at far right: how much does she love her little chihuahua? (lots).And these two Jack Russells, i wish you could have seen them in motion: rolling over and over, on command. One minute rolling over, the next sitting up for treats!

And I don’t know about you, but this little fluffy fluffy poochie, sitting in the trattoria while we all wait for our lunch…..bellissima, right?

BUT WAIT: you just might be thinking, Frances and I are having a great time (we were!) eating, drinking, and snapping pictures of cute pups, but DID we EVER meet up with Julia and Greg again?

Yes yes yes yes yes! we finally finally finally found each other, and frazzled, we all sat down to pizza. (A happy ending).