Now that I’m a full-fledged Californian, I often have to explain to people that in some parts of the universe, fruits and vegetables don’t really grow all year round. Such as, for example, in New England, when, come January, all available farmland is packed under two feet of snow. My fellow Californians gasp in horror: “You mean the farmers market CLOSES?” When I tell them that, not only does it close, but that it doesn’t open again practically until June,  their shock is tempered only by their sympathy for those unfortunate enough to live anywhere but the West Coast, land of eternal fruits and vegetables.

Now I’ll be honest: winter in California has a lot to offer. But, unsurprisingly, my favorite part of winter in California might just be the availability of real, delicious, seasonal produce. And, since I live in San Francisco proper, I’ve found that my January Saturday morning routine is just about the same as my August Saturday morning routine: find a trusty pair of yoga pants, throw on a big, fluffy sweater and a toasty scarf, and browse the market with steaming mug of something or other in hand. I’m more likely to be browsing through turnips than tomatoes, but no matter – the mere fact that I can meander around outside without freezing my kischkes off is enough for me.

The funny thing is, though, that now that I’m living in a place where 60-degree days are considered “winter-y”, I’m actually eating a lot more winter-type foods. Well, winter-type vegetables, at least. In Boston, where grocery stores are pretty much the only option for produce in the winter, it’s easy to eschew the whole local/seasonal thing during the cold months. Sure, I ate my fair share of root vegetables and the like once the cold weather hit, but it was just as easy to incorporate not-so-winter-y things into my diet.

And even though the California bounty is indeed a tasty one, even in January, I’ve been much more inclined to stick with the stuff that’s growing right now, which, as it turns out, is mostly greens. Kale, cabbage, chard – you name it, I’m hefting my iron skillet and sauteing it for dinner tonight (and tomorrow, and the next day…).

Ah, greens. At once so loved (by me) and so detested (by my beloved, yet picky, domestic partner). However, while those hearty, leafy greens do tend to get neatly boxed into the “too-healthy-to-be-tasty-but-I’ll-choke-it-down-anyway” category, they really can be delicious. And I don’t mean that in the “healthy and delicious” way. I mean it in the delicious way, even though greens also happen to be ridiculously healthy.

The strange thing about greens, I’ve found, is the way in which they are generally treated in recipes and articles. Most people seem to think that they are essentially all the same – kale, chard, spinach, what have you – just toss in the pan to wilt and serve. However, this is most certainly not the case. Kale is a member of the brassica family, and is closely related to cabbage, broccoli, and cauliflower. Its leaves are thick and somewhat crunchy, and often curly. Meanwhile, our dear friend chard is closely related to the beet, and has tender leaves, a bit more substantial than spinach, but much softer than kale. And then there are the bitter greens: rapini (or broccoli rabe), escarole, and a million other varieties, which, although slightly different in texture, all have that bracing bitterness thing going on. But, you know, in a good way.

Luckily, every green I’ve ever met has one thing in common: it tastes damn good with garlic, chili flakes, olive oil, and salt. It’s about as simple a recipe as they come, the whole thing takes just a few minutes to throw together, and I can’t imagine ever tiring of that salty-garlicky-spicy combination. The only difference between cooking kale, chard, escarole, etc. is the method. Even though the accompanying ingredients are the same, I cook a bunch of chard for about a third of the time it takes me to cook kale, and escarole falls somewhere in between (as do cabbage and rapini, in case you were wondering).

Now, I’ve seen many, many recipes that call for sauteing a bunch of kale for a few minutes, “just until wilted,” so perhaps it’s just me. But, the kale that I buy doesn’t really wilt, like, say, chard or spinach would. My kale, upon hitting the hot pan, takes a few minutes to soften just slightly, then begins to droop a tad, and, by the time most recipes are saying it should be done, still tastes like garlicky scraps of raincoat that require steak knives to work through. For any of you that might be kale averse for this very reason, I implore you: just cook longer! And add a little liquid (water, chicken stock, red wine if you’re feeling naughty) to the pan, so that the kale can braise for a bit (anywhere from about 15 minutes to an hour should work, depending on your preferences and bedtime).

Chard, on the other hand, will wilt and cook in about 5 minutes, and escarole, which is leafy like lettuce but is bitter and has tougher stems, will take somewhere in between the two extremes, again depending on your tastes and on your escarole. Rapini almost always needs a good dose of liquid to soften, and can even benefit from a blanch in boiling, salted water before being sauteed with said garlic, chili flakes, and olive oil.

But all of the details aside, the moral of the story is: the greens are out there (at your farmers market or grocery store), they are delicious (and healthy), and they are easy and quick to cook, as long as you keep in mind that the tougher, more bitter ones need to cook longer than the sweeter, softer ones.

Even in California, it’s still only January. While we wait for dainty asparagus and crisp pea pods to adorn our springtime dinner plates, we might as well take advantage of the bounty of the season and enjoy the greenery.

Adaptable Greens

Use this recipe as a basic template for cooking leafy greens, adjusting amounts of each ingredient according to your tastes. Bitter greens can take a lot of salt, and the saltiness actually mellows the bitter flavor of the more bracing greens, such as escarole and rapini. Just be aware that many greens cook down considerably, so salt modestly at first and add to taste as the greens cook down. Hearty greens are especially delicious with whole grains, so serve with brown rice, whole wheat pasta, or cooked farro or wheat berries if you’d like.

Ingredients

1 or more bunches chard, kale, escarole, or other leafy green

3-4 cloves garlic, minced or thinly sliced

large pinch dried red chili flakes

glug of olive oil

salt, to taste

Directions:

Wash greens either by rinsing each leaf or by soaking the bunch in a big bowl of cold water to remove all dirt and/or critters. If using greens with thick stems (kale, chard, mustard greens), remove the center ribs of each leaf. Chard stems can be cooked, but kale stems are best left for the compost heap. Chop the greens into bite-size pieces or into thin ribbons. Meanwhile, heat a glug of olive oil in a large skillet (with cover) or other heavy, lidded pan. Add chopped garlic and a big pinch of chili flakes to the hot oil and saute for a few seconds until fragrant. Add greens to the pan, and turn until coated with the oil. Add a small pinch of salt. If sauteing tender greens, cook for about five minutes more, adding a splash of liquid if necessary, until greens are wilted soft. If using tougher greens, add several splashes of stock or water to the pan, cover, and cook until tender, anywhere from 10 minutes to an hour. Check frequently, adding additional liquid to the pan so greens don’t scorch. Taste for salt and serve.

Photo by quinn.anya

Indeed, the sheer number of kitchen gadgets that the housewares giants will have you believe you need for a fully outfitted, usable kitchen is over the top. Fewer gadgets, after all, means fewer odd-shaped things to wrestle into your dishwasher, or worse, wash by hand. That said, there are a few tools that will make your cooking life that much easier, which in turn will make cooking something you actually do on a weeknight, instead of just something you fantasize about as that 3-day-old takeout rumbles its way through your GI tract.

I’ve broken my list into multiple parts because some of the items on my list require a bit of explanation. For example, my first item:

1. A Rice Cooker

The thing is, I love my rice cooker so much, and feel so strongly that it is exactly the kind of kitchen tool that actually makes people cook more, that I could probably write an entire article just about how great it is. So, as I was coming up with my entire list of kitchen items, I decided to do just that. I’ll save the other items for other posts. This one is all about the mighty rice cooker (and, for your patience, I’ll include a rice cooker recipe, below).

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m usually the first to scoff at single-use kitchen gear (see retarded pepper pan and mango splitter, above). But, last time I checked, whole civilizations weren’t basing their entire diet and way of life on jalapeno poppers. Rice is a staple, and it’s the perfect accompaniment to a huge range of meals: Indian, Chinese, Japanese, Latin American, etc., etc. Besides, there are so many types to choose from (white, brown, basmati, sweet, black forbidden, red, jasmine, sushi) that you could eat it several times a week and still not get bored.

Rice, however, is notoriously fickle when it comes to stove-top cooking. The purists all have their preferred method for achieving perfectly tender, separate, and flavorful grains of rice, but therein lies the problem: there are so many different methods for cooking rice that it can get a little overwhelming when it comes to actually making some for dinner. I’ve tried a variety of rice-cooking methods: soaking (a total pain), the “knuckle” method, where you put enough water in the pot for it to rise a knuckle’s length above the surface of the rice (yeah, I’m serious), baking after boiling (too fussy), and just plain old boiling (sometimes great, sometimes not). Still, I haven’t found a method that reliably produces better results than using the rice cooker. Call me a cheater, but I’ll take my pillowy grains of brown rice over the crunchy-burnt stove-top version any day.

Which reminds me of another key benefit of the rice cooker: the ease with which it can handle brown or other whole-grain rice varieties. Cooking white rice on the stove is generally not too much of a challenge, but I’ve never been able to produce a fluffy pot of whole-grain rice without a cooker. In addition to taking at least 40 minutes to cook, my stove-top brown rice has generally turned out either gluey, or underdone, or worse, an unfortunate combination of the two (the bottom layer is crunchy, while the top is too liquidy). With a good rice cooker, brown rice will turn out much the same as white rice – perhaps not quite as delicate or fluffy (it is full of bran and minerals after all), but definitely softer, drier, and generally yummier than it would otherwise be.

What I really like about the rice cooker, though, is the whole automatic thing. There are many dishes for which the cooking process cannot be successfully automated: bread, for example, or a really rich, flavorful stew. Rice isn’t one of those dishes, as far as I’m concerned. A good rice cooker has a timer feature, so that it will start cooking the rice an hour before you eat dinner, even if nobody is in the kitchen to turn it on. Even if you are spending your rice-cooking interlude in the kitchen, it’s just one thing you don’t have to worry about over-cooking. If you’re one of those healthy go-getter types, you can start cooking your pot of brown rice, head out for a jog, and come home to a healthy dinner. If you’re a lazy asshole, you can go and take a nap and be pleasantly awoken by the beeping of your beloved kitchen appliance.

The rub, of course, is that a really great rice cooker, that cooks everything perfectly all the time, requires a bit of an up-front investment. The Zojirushi godsend that my (now) favorite future-brother-in-law gave me costs over $200, although it does include a nifty plastic rice paddle and some high-tech sounding “micro computer technology.” I happen to think this particular model is worth it, given how outrageously well it cooks my brown rice. But then again, I love my brown rice. I’ve had other rice cookers that ran in the $20-50 range, and they worked well, too.

Curious about what other handy items will make your kitchen more cook-able? Stay tuned for the next thrilling installment of “Kitchen Tools I Can’t Live Without.” Until then, continue procrastinating by searching Amazon for the perfect rice cooker, or perhaps by checking out the following recipe for spiced yellow rice, a staple in my kitchen and a trusty sidekick for all dishes Indian.

Spiced Yellow Rice (serves 2-4 as a side)

This rice dish, yellow in color from the turmeric, is the perfect accompaniment to Indian food, although I have been known to add some frozen peas and a handful of cashews and call it dinner all on its own. I keep whole spices on hand and use them here, but if you are missing any, simply omit. Your rice will still be tasty, if not quite as exotic. Use white or brown basmati rice, varying the amount of water accordingly.

- 1 c. brown or white basmati rice
- 1 whole cinnamon stick
- 5 whole cloves
- 4 green cardamom pods
- 1/2 tsp. whole cumin seeds
- 1 tsp. turmeric powder
- Small pat of butter
- Salt, to taste

Combine all ingredients in the bowl of a rice cooker. Add cooking water in the ratio specified in your rice cooker directions and according to the type of rice you are using (brown or white). Turn on the rice cooker and cook. When cooking is completed, pick out and discard cinnamon stick, cardamom pods, and cloves.

Now, depending on the leftover odds and ends you have stashed in the far depths of your cabinets, this diet may slim you down, fatten you up, or just give you a stomach ache (I can vouch for this last outcome). The diet itself is quite simple: in the midst of packing boxes and throwing away orphaned phone chargers, simply stuff your face with whatever you still have left in your pantry. Naturally, on day t minus 14 (2 weeks before move date), the diet seems pretty easy. You might be finishing off half-eaten, but still fresh boxes of cereal, boiling some pasta to eat with jarred tomato sauce, or even making a smoothie or two with a forlorn half-bag of frozen blueberries you’ve found hiding in your freezer.

Things start getting a bit hairy around day t minus 5, though, when the good stuff has long been devoured and you’re stuck cobbling together a lunch of hearts of palm with canned sardines and Thai curry paste, or adding capers to your cream of wheat. One day t minus 2, I savored a mid-morning meal of roasted sunflower seeds, microwave popcorn, and chocolate chips. Perhaps not the breakfast of champions, but certainly a staple of the moving-cross-country diet.

Hardcore dieters will find exciting challenges in continuing to prepare meals even as kitchen implements are gradually packed away. You may, for example, find yourself trying to chop a rogue sweet potato with a flimsy steak knife, or saving a dumpster-destined coffee mug until the bitter end so you can use it to measure out some wheat berries that you got from a bulk bin. In addition to making you go a week without pooping, this diet will improve your resourcefulness and raccoon-like scavenging abilities.

However, like all diets, which start out pretty well but then lose steam, the moving-cross-country diet had me pining for some normal food within a couple of weeks. After all, there is only so much microwave popcorn (it was on sale, like 8 months ago) I can eat before I start to want meals that aren’t composed primarily of air. Now that I’ve pretty much settled into my new apartment in San Francisco, I’ve been trying to snap out of moving-diet mode and back into real-food mode.

Unfortunately, the demands of my gastrointestinal tract didn’t bother to wait around for most of my cooking gear, which is currently somewhere in Kansas. So, here I am with nothing but one medium-sized sauce pan (plus lid), a small paring knife, one of those coffee cups that looks like a paper to-go cup but is really ceramic, and the lid to one of my plastic mixing bowls, which I’ve repurposed into a makeshift cutting board. Nonetheless, I’m here to say that yes, you can make a decent, healthy dinner with nothing but the above implements, which even the bacheloriest of bachelors and the i-bankiest of i-bankers should own.

After a prolonged period of junky eating, I often crave the crisp, clean, and somewhat astringent flavors of Asian food, particularly Japanese food. I’m not talking about syrupy take-out teriyaki, but rather crunchy raw vegetables, rice, vinegar, miso, and seaweed. Trust me, nothing makes up for eating half a pound of year-old baking chocolate like seaweed. If you’re the type of person who can feel satiated after drinking green juice or some such nonsense, be my guest. But, my detox food has to be both light and substantial enough to feel like a real meal. So, on my first night in the new apartment, I put together what I think of as “sushi in a bowl,” which is filling, clean, and, as it turns out, can be made with only a few basic kitchen implements.

Although this wasn’t exactly a post-work meal for me, it could definitely be thrown together pretty quickly after a day at the office. The only time-consuming element is the brown rice, which could be subbed out for quinoa or white rice, both of which cook in a cool 15 minutes. The other elements, namely vegetables, don’t require any cooking at all. I happen to love the combination of avocado, carrots, radishes, and scallions, especially because the avocado gives the dish a bit more heft, but you could include anything you have on hand: cucumber, spinach, peppers, radishes, snow peas, etc.

The essential additions to your grains and veggies are soy sauce, rice vinegar, and nori. This is what makes the dish actually taste like sushi in a bowl and gives it its (real or imagined) detoxifying powers. A dab of miso paste would be delicious, too. When I make this for dinner, I simply fill a bowl with brown rice, season to taste with vinegar and soy sauce, then crumble a sheet of toasted nori over the top. I mix this concoction together, allowing the steam from the rice to soften the seaweed, and then I dump a bunch of diced vegetables on top and dig in. If you need some protein, cubes of tofu or some scrambled egg are delightful, although the latter does require another pan. The whole thing is quite simple, but it hits the spot when you’re craving something clean and healthy.

And, if you don’t keep things like nori, rice vinegar, and miso in your pantry, well, what are you waiting for? Get thee to a Whole Foods (or Asian grocery, or well-stocked supermarket) and make them your newest staples. In addition to being key ingredients for many Asian dishes, they’ll keep forever. Besides, if you end up buying and then never eating them, they might just make your next moving-cross-country diet experience that much more exotic.

Sushi in a Bowl (serves 1, scale up for a crowd)

½ c. short-grain brown rice (or substitute quinoa or white rice)

1-2 tsp. rice vinegar

Soy sauce, to taste

1-2 sheets toasted nori

½ ripe avocado, cubed

1 scallion, minced

½ large or 1 small carrot, chopped

1 radish, chopped

Cubed tofu or a scrambled egg (optional)

Cook rice according to package directions. Meanwhile, prep vegetables. While rice is still warm, scoop into a bowl, and sprinkle with a bit of vinegar and a bit of soy sauce. Taste and adjust seasonings to your liking. Using your fingers, crumble or tear nori into small pieces and sprinkle on top of warm rice (use two sheets if you are a seaweed-lover, and one if you’re skeptical). Mix nori into rice to soften it, then top with remaining vegetables and tofu or egg, if using. Serve with additional vinegar and soy sauce.

Photo by Pdra’s Portfolio

When I was about 9 years old, my dad taught me how to poach an egg. Over the years, my dad has taught me many things: how to swear like a sailor, how to spike my tennis racket after missing a shot, and how to appropriately apply bathroom humor to almost any social situation, to name a few. But, out of all of those critical life skills, I think poaching an egg might be the most important one I’ve learned from him.

I wouldn’t call my dad a particularly avid cook, or even a particularly discriminating eater, but he is very particular about certain foods. He wouldn’t deign to touch a bowl of “instant” oats (as opposed to his preferred old fashioned), and he doesn’t eat non-super premium ice cream without first forcing out all of the excess air with the back of a large spoon. He doesn’t eat pasta except in the form of his own recipe for lobster fettuccine alfredo (he swears by it). And for some reason, the man knows how to cook a damn good poached egg, and wouldn’t settle for less than a perfect one.

Which is probably why, during my intensive breakfast studies with the poached egg master (think Karate Kid, but with a slotted spoon), I always poached with an omnipresent fear: each overcooked yolk, every mal-coagulated white was sure to reveal my shortcomings as a daughter and human being. If I couldn’t poach, what could I do?

Luckily, I was a natural when it came to poaching. I had the good genes and the raw talent. I was a freaking egg-poaching prodigy. Alternatively, my skill could be explained by the fact that poaching eggs just isn’t all that hard to do. A nine year old can do it, and so can you.

Nonetheless, many people I know seem to be intimidated by poaching an egg. I can think of two possible reasons why. The first is that poached eggs are so incredibly delicious – a silky soft yolk enveloped in a cloud of perfectly tender white – that they figure they must be hard to make. The second, which is related to the first, is that they’ve never actually tried to make them. Which is a real bummer, because poached eggs are quite versatile, especially for the rushed, after-work cook.

Once you’re comfortable poaching eggs, a whole world of quick dinner possibilities will open up. Sick of salad? Try it with a runny poached egg on top. Eaten the same plain pasta four nights in a row? Try it with a runny poached egg on top. Need a way to spruce up some steamed vegetables? Ok, so there is a definite theme to this world of quick dinner possibilities. But I have to say, that after nearly 15 years of eating poached eggs, I’m still amazed by how delicious and satisfying they are every time I eat them. Plus, they only take about three minutes to cook.

Although you can buy “egg poachers” that turn out freakishly uniform disks of cooked egg (McMuffin, anyone?), or use any of the poaching tricks that I’ve seen around the internet (yes, you can taste that teaspoon of vinegar in the poaching water), I find that the method below works just fine. You may get the occasional flop – broken yolk, swirly white, etc. – but, given that even my fancy-shmancy farmers’ market eggs cost less than 50 cents a pop, you can afford to give the screw-ups to your dog, or spouse, or whatever, and still make a perfect poached egg for yourself.

A Perfect Poached Egg

1 egg*

A few pinches of salt

Water

Freshly ground pepper (optional)

Add water to a small saucepan until the water reaches a depth of about 2 inches. Heat the water to boiling on the stove. Meanwhile, crack the egg into a small cup or bowl, making sure not to break the yolk. If the yolk breaks, save it for another use and try again. When the water is boiling, turn down the heat on the stove to medium low, and add a hefty pinch of salt to the water. Using a spoon, begin to stir the water in a circular motion, creating a whirlpool. Once you’ve got your whirlpool moving swiftly, quickly and gently dump the egg into the water. Keep the whirlpool going for a few seconds longer without touching the egg with your spoon, then leave the water alone. Allow your egg to cook until desired doneness is achieved. I like my whites set and my yolks still runny, which takes about three minutes. Feel free to scoop up the egg with a slotted spoon and touch the yolk gently with your finger to test for doneness. When done, remove the egg with a slotted spoon and place on buttered toast, steamed asparagus, or anything else you can think of. Sprinkle with a pinch of salt and a grind of fresh pepper.

*You can also make two poached eggs at once in a small saucepan using this same method and dumping both eggs into the boiling water together. More than two eggs gets a little dicey, so if you need to make more, just do multiple batches using the same water.

I’m probably biased, because my mom was never one to cook traditional “comfort foods” for dinner. Instead, we usually had something like stir-fried cabbage with bean thread noodles or yellow rice and dahl. I didn’t even know what a casserole was until I started reading cookbooks. For us, macaroni and cheese was something that came out of a box, not something that required you to make a roux and turn on the oven. Mac and cheese was what we ate for lunch on a lazy Saturday, or for dinner when Mom wasn’t home, or when we didn’t really have any food in the house and someone opened up the pantry to find that – yes! – we just happened to have a box of macaroni and cheese, which seemed like it would really hit the spot.

Although “real” mac and cheese, with the roux and the oven and all that, is supposed to (I’m just guessing here) conjure up images of family dinners and home-cooked, comfort-y goodness, I really can’t think of a time when someone’s mom made it for me. But, nor can I think of a single person who hasn’t indulged now and again in the from-the-box variety, either as a kid, intoxicated college freshman, or time-crunched, over-worked professional. My family’s box of choice was Kraft “Deluxe” macaroni and cheese, which eschewed those lame cheese powders for a squishy foil packet of pre-fab cheese sauce that you had to squirt all over the warm pasta. Yum. When my dad made it, he always covered it with black pepper, you know, to make it really gourmet. But even I, organic food snob that I am, have to admit that it tasted pretty damn good.

So here’s the thing: we all know that mac and cheese, even just the boxed stuff, tastes pretty good after you’ve put in a long day. But just because it happens to come in a box, with a foil capsule of ready-to-eat cheese product that only requires a snip and squirt before consuming, doesn’t mean the box is your only option. And no, I am certainly not going to suggest that you go teach yourself to make a roux so that you can whip up a casserole next Wednesday evening before watching some Bravo reality TV and passing out.

Instead, I’ll propose a compromise: all of the ease and speed of the boxed stuff, the “real food” quality of the casserole version, and heck, why not a little healthfulness to boot (i.e. no butter required)? If you’re feeling extra good and healthy, you can even throw in a few green things to make it a “complete” meal, something you surely won’t be getting from the box.

Full disclosure is that the following recipe isn’t exactly a Kraft replica, and it certainly isn’t bright orange. Goat cheese gives the pasta a creamy, melty quality without the work of making a cheese sauce, and you can use whatever pasta you’d like: regular white, whole wheat, gluten free, etc. And you know how one box of mac and cheese is just a little too much for one person, but not quite enough for two? Well, scale this recipe up or down, depending on how many people are eating (or how hungry you are). No more semi-solid, congealed leftover mess to deal with. Oh, and say goodbye to those blue box blues.

No-box Mac and Cheese (Serves 2-3)

1/2 lb. macaroni (any kind or shape will work, but I like elbows)

2 oz. fresh goat cheese (1/2 of a small log)

2-3 tbs. plain yogurt or sour cream

splash of milk

~1 c. frozen peas

~1 c. chopped frozen spinach

Salt, pepper, and dried herbs to taste

Directions:

Cook pasta in generously salted water according to package directions, taking extra care not to overcook. If you’re feeling fancy, save a cupful of pasta water before draining. Meanwhile, stir together goat cheese, yogurt, and a splash of milk with a fork or whisk just until it’s pourable. In the last minute of pasta cooking, add the frozen peas and spinach to the pasta pot. Thoroughly drain the pasta and vegetables, but do not rinse. Return to pot and place over very low heat. Immediately add the goat cheese mixture, stirring everything together until pasta is evenly coated with cheese. Add a splash of milk or pasta water if necessary to achieve desired consistency. Season to taste with a bit of salt, a hefty dose of black pepper, and some mixed dried herbs, if desired. Serve and eat immediately.

In the weeks leading up to my start date at work, my friends and family took pleasure in scoffing at my home-cooking habits: “Hah! Wait until you start working. You’ll start eating takeout all the time. Doubt you’ll be able to find the time to feed your sourdough starter then!” Ok, so they were right about the sourdough starter, because that damn thing took more effort than raising kids. But when it comes to just regular old dinner, I managed to do pretty well. With the help of a stocked pantry, some good knives, and an amenable domestic partner, I got to eat real food for dinner almost every night. It doesn’t hurt that I live across the street from a Whole Foods, but really, I think most people can manage a bit of real cooking despite their hectic work schedules.

Good, quick recipes are an essential piece of after-work cooking, but having a stocked pantry and refrigerator are even more useful. You can cook without a recipe, but you sure as hell can’t cook without olive oil, salt, and pepper. So here is my beginner’s guide to stocking your pantry. And not your mother’s pantry, either. Given my corporate serfdom and affinity for whole, natural, healthy foods, I’ve named it the yippie (yuppie + hippie) pantry, and I have complete confidence that it will satisfy both your workaday and organic, all-natural impulses. It’s by no means a complete list, but it’s a good place to start, especially if eating one more plastic container of pad Thai might just put you over the edge.

Fat: Buy a big bottle of olive oil. Nothing too fancy, but make sure it’s extra virgin and slightly greenish in color. Buy a pound of butter. Don’t worry, you’re not going to eat it all at once, unless you like making classic French food after work. Store one stick in the refrigerator and the rest in the freezer. I don’t use much else when I’m cooking after work, but if you’re adventurous, you could pick up some toasted sesame oil or some coconut oil (especially if you avoid butter).

Spices: If you don’t have a spice rack already, this may be a bit of an investment, but it’s definitely worth it. I’d suggest throwing in some curry powder, cumin, cinnamon, turmeric, and chile powder along with the basic basil, oregano, thyme, etc. You can also look for a salt/additive-free multi-purpose seasoning blend. I use my “all-purpose seasoning” in everything from scrambled eggs to roast chicken.

Prepared sauces: If you’re going to use bottled teriyaki sauce, you might as well just order in from Panda Express. Instead, stock soy sauce, some kind of hot sauce (like sriracha), a bottle of grainy mustard, and maybe some curry paste, all of which are much more versatile.

Acid: Cooking without acid is like a PowerPoint preez without multi-colored pie charts: no “pop” whatsoever. Keep a few vinegars on hand – I like apple cider, red wine, balsamic, and rice – and maybe a few lemons or limes in your fruit bowl.

Grains and legumes: You can’t be a yippie without whole grains and beans, now can you? Buy a bunch and store them in air-tight bags or canisters. Quinoa and millet are quick-cooking whole grains that can be used in place of brown rice, and bulgur (cracked wheat) just needs a soak in hot water before eating. Buy a few cans of chickpeas, beans, or lentils to add heft to salads and grains.

Frozen vegetables: Some are better (spinach, peas) than others (okra, asparagus). If you’ve somehow neglected to swing by your local, sustainable, organic, community-owned, equal-opportunity farm stand on your way home from the office (shame on you!), at least you won’t be veggie-less if you have a few green things stashed in the freezer. Both the planet and your gastrointestinal tract will be pleased.

So there they are. Pantry rules 101. Once you’ve got some of these basics in place, the dreaded after-work dinner won’t seem so scary, I promise. And you thought those Excel-conditioned hands were incapable of producing anything tangible! Soon enough, cooking dinner might just become part of your weekday routine.

Photo by Incase.