Hey Good Lookin. . .

. . .Whatcha got cookin? How's about cooking something up for me?" - Hank Williams

A couple of years ago, a friend of mine in D.C. made pizza. No big deal, except she made the dough from scratch, used only the freshest ingredients (think arugula, buffalo mozzarella and prosciutto) and proceeded to grill the goodness on her Weber Smokey Joe. As she cooked, her fingers flipped through the splattered pages of Alice Waters' "The Art of Simple Food". It's not a flashy cookbook. In fact it's about as daring and provoking as a manila folder and, well, that's likely the point. We have gifted this organic gospel to many a loved one and yet I never had one of my own.

Until now.

I made vinaigrette tonight. So what, I know. But the 1:4 ratio was never something I considered or read in the many magnetic cookbooks on the shelves. Juicy cookbooks, with celebrities and splashy graphics. They don't have recipes for vinaigrette. Certainly not the basic one, to which you may add shallot, pureed garlic (as I did), a dash of cream instead of that fourth tablespoon of olive oil. Don't you just love the simplicity?

I hate to wax philosophical on a cliche, but I want to cook my way through this book (hat tip to Julie Powell). Which means salsa verde is next, and I can't wait. I also can't wait until the pots on our deck bloom some fresh herby greenery to snip and sprinkle. Ms. Waters' dogma has opened my eyes to the possibilities of Community Supported Agriculture. So 2010 for many, but for me it's new and makes me giddy. Shit if I know what to do with daikon, but isn't that the absolute adventure of it? Scouring Waters or elsewhere for the recipe that will crack the secret.

I'm nowhere near confident in my skills, but I am so genuinely stoked to make our condo smell of things fresh and clean; sweet and savory, happy to cook something up for you.