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Clip and serve

Something cold, something new, tear open a bag, it's dinner for two.

JANET K. KEELER
Published April 2, 2003

The contents of the woman's shopping cart told the tale: a box of dried pasta, a jar of red sauce, a tub of ricotta and a bag of shredded mozzarella. Next to the packages, but oh, so disparate, was a Martha Stewart Living magazine.

There it was in living color, the way we cook and think about food. The woman was clearly buying ingredients to make baked ziti the easy way. She wasn't going to haul out a cheese grater. Nor was she making sauce from fresh, or even canned, tomatoes.

While the ziti baked, would she thumb through Martha, wistfully ogling marbleized Easter eggs? Perhaps she would study the recipe for lemon pine nut tart with cornmeal crust. As if.

Welcome to American cooking attitudes circa 2003, which aren't terribly different from American cooking attitudes circa 1975 except that now we readily admit that we've got half-scratch fever. We are mad for convenience cooking, the food manufacturers know it, our families know it and now publishers believe it, judging from the rash of new cookbooks on the topic.

It's probably not a warm rush of nostalgia that has brought back the Crock-Pot, but rather the rush hour collision of homework, housework and life pushing us to find ever simpler, quicker ways to cook dinner. That would explain the growing section of cooked, refrigerated chicken, roasts and ribs at the grocery store. The dinner-kit concept is also expanding, playing off the cake mix theory: open contents of box, add water (maybe), stir and, well, now you're cooking.

Semi-homemade, half-scratch and speed-scratch describe a style of cooking in which convenience items are combined with fresh ingredients in the name of a home-cooked meal. Pancakes and strawberries for breakfast? Pull the frozen pancakes from the freezer and slice a few of Plant City's best. Hankering for chicken Caesar salad? Top pretorn, washed romaine with bottled dressing, boxed croutons and bagged, grated Parmesan. Take the scissors to a bag of grilled chicken strips. Cooking hasn't been this easy since Mom was making dinner every night.

What's that you say? Mom didn't cook, either? Too busy rebelling against the Establishment to bother learning how to boil water, was she? Or maybe she was working hard to put you through college or pay car insurance.

"A lot of women of my generation gave up cooking as sort of a protest," says 62-year-old Linda West Eckhardt, co-author with her daughter, Katherine West DeFoyd, of the new Half-Scratch Magic (Clarkson N. Potter, $17.95). "They forgot they had to eat."

That is partly what has brought us to the way we cook now, Eckhardt says. The tradition of mothers teaching daughters to cook has been challenged mightily by modern women who don't want the home arts to define them. They work outside the home, hustle children from soccer to band to ballet, pump iron when they have a spare minute, keep up on current events, maybe even do a little volunteer work. Making dinner is not always a priority, but for many women, it's still a duty.

And time and culinary know-how are in short supply.

"Our choices have increased, but our time has dissolved," Eckhardt says. "I still say you're better off if you can figure out a way to put dinner on the table without going to the grocery store."

Half of all heads of households - men and women - in America say they are too tired to cook dinner, according to a survey by the research firm ACNielsen. For those ages 18 to 44, the fatigue factor is even higher. Dinner must be a no-brainer.

A Food Marketing Institute study says that 85 percent of consumers prepare home-cooked meals three times a week, a 10 percent increase over 2001, but in the last 10 years, we have cut the time we spend on cooking and the number of dishes we prepare. Half of our meals are prepared in 30 minutes or less, and half of all main meals consist of one dish.

"Our ideas of scratch cooking are changing," Eckhardt says. "Now what we mean when we say scratch is that we didn't eat out."

Eckhardt and DeFoyd are tapping into a market that is being worked by other cookbook authors, too.

Cake Mix Doctor Anne Byrn will become the Dinner Doctor (Workman Publishing, $14.95) this fall. In June, Andrew Schloss' Almost From Scratch: 600 Recipes for the New Convenience Cuisine (Simon & Schuster, $25) will be published. In the meantime, Martha Stewart's bite-size Everyday Food sings the praises of recipes with few ingredients. Every publisher and its imprint are scrambling to produce slow-cooker cookbooks.

And in the continuing education department of Michigan State University, you can take an evening class called Speed Scratch, taught by chef Robert Nelson of the School of Hospitality Business.

In Nelson's class, students learn how to mix speed (Newman's Own marinara) with scratch (correctly cooked pasta and seafood) to make a quick meal that tastes good.

"We combine North American technology with old world craftsmanship," Nelson says.

Speed Scratch is a draw for busy people of varying cooking abilities. One woman takes cooking class after cooking class because she claims it's the only place she gets a decent meal, Nelson says.

But what's so different now from 1954, when TV dinners were introduced? Or 1947, when Betty Crocker trotted out the first cake mix? Haven't we been welcoming new and improved convenience cooking items for years?

Indeed we have, but back then, we called a can of peaches a can of peaches. Today, opening that can is as purposeful as picking the peaches and putting them up ourselves.

"Now we have generations of people who have grown up on these convenience foods," Nelson says. "That's scratch to them."

Eckhardt, and other food writers like her, have had to put their prejudices on the shelf and embrace this new way of thinking. It's interesting to watch a chef on the Food Network make chicken stock from bones, vegetables and water, but we'll be reaching for the Swanson's at home, thank you.

That doesn't mean, however, that convenience foods can't be elevated to gourmet meals.

"Sure, you can serve a roast chicken straight from the store, but why would you when you can spend five minutes and make it into something better?" Eckhardt says.

As long as it doesn't take more than 30 minutes and one pan, we're game.

Information from the Washington Post was used in this story.

Thai Chicken Coconut Soup

32-ounce (4 cups) can chicken broth

1 14-ounce can unsweetened coconut milk

1 tablespoon sugar

1 tablespoon fish sauce (nuoc mam) or soy sauce

2 tablespoons finely julienned fresh ginger

Juice and zest of 1 large lime

1 cup water

1 11-ounce package cooked carved chicken breast

4 scallions, cut into 1-inch pieces

1 15-ounce can straw mushrooms, drained

1/4 teaspoon hot red pepper flakes

1/4 cup chopped cilantro

In a soup pot, combine the chicken broth, coconut milk, sugar, fish sauce (or soy sauce), ginger, lime juice and zest, and water. Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce the heat to a simmer and cook for about 10 minutes.

Stir in the chicken, scallions, mushrooms, red pepper flakes (you may use more or less to taste) and cilantro. Bring to a boil and cook for 3 to 5 minutes. Serve hot.

Serves four.

Source: Half-Scratch Magic by Linda West Eckhardt and Katherine West DeFoyd (Clarkson Potter, $17.95).

Southwestern Tamale Tart with Black Beans

1 cup biscuit mix, such as Bisquick

1/2 cup cornmeal

11/2 cups shredded cheddar cheese

1 4-ounce can chopped green chilis, drained

1/3 cup canned beef consomme (or broth)

1 15-ounce can black beans, drained and rinsed

1/2 cup chopped cilantro

6 grape tomatoes, halved

Salsa, sour cream and guacamole (optional)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Spritz a 10-inch round springform tart pan (or a 9-inch pie pan) with vegetable oil cooking spray and set aside.

Combine the biscuit, cornmeal, 1 cup of the shredded cheese and the chilis thoroughly. Stir in the beef consomme. Pat the mixture evently into the bottom of the pan. Mix the beans and cilantro, and spoon them over the cornmeal mixture to within 1/2 inch of the edge. Sprinkle with remaining cheese.

Bake the tart for 30 to 35 minutes, or until it is cooked through. Remove the pan to a rack. Loosen the sides of the tart pan and remove them. Arrange tomato halves around the edge of the tart. Cut into wedges and serve with salad, sour cream and guacamole.

Serves six.

Source: Half-Scratch Magic by Linda West Eckhardt and Katherine West DeFoyd (Clarkson Potter, $17.95).

Broccoli-Cheese Bake

1 large package frozen broccoli

2 eggs, beaten

1 10.5-ounce can cheddar cheese soup

1 14.5-ounce can diced tomatoes

1 teaspoon Italian seasoning

1/4 cup Parmesan cheese

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Cook broccoli in boiling water for 5 minutes. Drain. Combine eggs and soup with Italian seasoning. Stir in tomatoes and broccoli.

Place in a shallow baking dish. Sprinkle with cheese and bake uncovered for 30 minutes. Serves six.

Source: www.mealtime.org

Peach Honey Mustard Chicken

1 16-ounce can sliced peaches

21/2 pounds broiler-fryer chicken, cut up

1 tablespoon vegetable oil

3 tablespoons Dijon-style mustard

1 tablespoon honey 1/4 cup sliced green onions

Drain peaches, reserving liquid. Skin chicken, if desired. Heat oil in 12-inch skillet. Add chicken. Brown on both sides over high heat; drain. Blend reserved peach liquid with mustard and honey. Pour over chicken and cover; reduce heat and simmer 20 minutes, or until cooked through. Remove chicken to serving plate. Add peaches and green onions. Boil over high heat to thicken slightly, about 5 minutes. Spoon over chicken.

Serves four.

Source: www.mealtime.org

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