Cooking for the Crunch

It seems quixotic to suggest any kind of domestic culinary
exploration in the middle of October. After a couple of
midterm-induced all-nighters, even standing in line for pizza
starts to feel like too much effort. But some of us unrepentant
gourmands can only handle so much Koronet’s, and the thought
of alternatives like making yet another 12-minute meal involving
freeze-dried vegetable dust from anything resembling a pouch leads
us to believe that we deserve the achy, dejected feeling in the
stomach.

Many of us would prefer to eat food that we cook ourselves. But,
when time is virtually nonexistent, what is the best way to scratch
that foodie itch? The solution is remarkably simple.

I would not presume to suggest trying your hand at veal shanks
or spanakopita in the throes of midterms, but I can fervently
proselytize the virtues of the well-stocked pantry, a pantry free
from dust-filled pouches.

By well-stocked pantry, think of the inner core of Milano Market
(it’s the space between the deli counter and the beer). A few
well-selected items bestow effortless yet gratifyingly
“Continental” dishes upon your weekday evenings, as
well as creating the sexiest-looking cabinet in your kitchen.

What goes in your cupboard? Given that most of us have only one
cabinet, here are the essentials.

Olive oil. No worries if you can’t budget
extra-virgin—just don’t buy anything
“light.”

Peeled tomatoes. Italian, ideally, but never
“Italian-seasoned.” Go for the chopped ones.

Pasta. Which you already have, but it’s good to aim for a
range: something short like penne, long like spaghetti, and broad
or eggy as you like.

Mustard. Something French, not French’s.

Tuna. Packed in oil.

Lemons.

Salt/pepper/spices that you like. Dried herbs really only cut it
with oregano, bay leaves, maybe rosemary.

Tinned cannellini beans. Remember to gently rinse tinned beans
before using.

Fresh garlic.

Onions, small if you cook for one or two.

Soy sauce.

Honey.

White vermouth or cooking wine.

Other bits as you like, such as sun-dried tomatoes in oil (try
semi-dried if you can find them), marinated artichoke hearts in
oil, green or black olive tapenade, a good wine vinegar.

There are also some items that should always be doing high
turnover in your fridge:

Eggs.

Butter (the real kind, unsalted).

Olives. Pitted for convenience, and in oil.

Parmigiano-Reggiano, or the closest you can get.

With the obvious exceptions (soy, for example), most of these
items can be combined almost endlessly. What follows are
suggestions to get you started.

Some dishes require almost nothing. Cut some artichokes, heat
gently with a bit of their oil marinade, some minced garlic, a
splash of wine and some pepper, and you have a pasta sauce before
your water has boiled.

Try frittata, the lazy man’s omelet. Switch on your
broiler, and heat butter in a skillet until it foams. Add some of
your goodies—chopped sun-dried tomatoes, thin-sliced onion,
or garlic. Beat about three eggs if you have a small skillet, or
five to six if you have a standard-sized one, with salt, pepper,
and some grated cheese. Pour it over your fillings and turn the
heat to low. Let it cook very gently, about five to six minutes for
the small one, eight to 10 for the larger, and when the top quivers
but still looks slick, pop the whole pan under the broiler for a
minute or two. Serve in wedges hot, room temperature, or cold. Put
a wedge between slices of bread for a good sandwich. Without the
cheese, it’s also an excellent use for leftover mu shu.

Tuna obviously works in sandwiches with a bit of lemon, pepper,
dill, and mayonnaise. But try the tuna without bread. Roughly flake
the tuna, mix with the cannellini beans, maybe add a bit of chopped
tomato, fresh parsley, or basil, plenty of olive oil (try the oil
in the tin), chopped black olives, and pepper.

If you get the chance to pick up a piece of fish (a six-ounce
fillet cooks in a bit of olive oil or butter in about three minutes
per side over medium-high heat), try heating a mix of olive oil,
splash of white wine, chopped tomatoes, black olives, and fresh
herbs as a sauce.

Or try a beurre noisette sauce, which requires simply heating a
few tablespoons of butter gently until it foams, stirring it until
it darkens and smells nutty, and pouring it over your fish with
salt, pepper, and a squeeze of lemon.

If you’ve got some chicken pieces for broiling, simply
spread some mustard, or a mix of soy, honey and lemon over the top
and place them under the broiler until the skin crisps and the
juices run clear.

It’s gastronomically broadening to experiment with
combinations of these ingredients until your cabinet is nothing but
a collection of sticky, scraped jars, stored upside-down so that
you can lick out the last bits of tapenade.

And when you get a bit more time and only have a few dregs of
everything left, try this slightly more involved sauce with
linguine. Heat some minced garlic in a few tablespoons of olive oil
with a pinch of dried oregano. Add a splash of white wine and the
juice from a lemon, and let that cook down for a few minutes. Mix
in some roughly-flaked tuna, and start adding whatever you’ve
got left: sliced artichoke hearts, sliced sun-dried tomatoes,
tapenade or chopped olives or, if you bought anything transcending
my recommendations, add your capers or toasted pine nuts. No
Parmesan here, but plenty of black pepper. Toss it with the
linguini, finish off the wine, and go study for your finals.