Great cooking equipment —copper pots, high-tech gadgets, anything manufactured by European car companies — can set you back some financially. So now, while we're waiting for Ben Bernanke to cook up something in his kitchen, is a particularly good time to appreciate a chef's tool that's as inexpensive as it is versatile.

Parchment paper is a cook's hide-in-plain-sight secret. It's one of those things so innocuous, so low-tech (it's just a sheet of silicone-treated paper) that usually it's overlooked as a kitchen tool. Yet with a simple roll of parchment, you can accomplish wonders. Think how often you use a blank sheet of paper.

The catalog of its uses is downright astonishing: to line cookie sheets or cake pans; to slide breads and pizzas onto baking stones; to encase fish en papillote; to wrap aged cheeses, cones of frites or roasted nuts.

Who said paper was obsolete?

In cooking school, one of the first things they taught us to do (after making stock and knotting our ties) was to cook rice, which we simmered under a parchment lid. Called a cartouche, it's a circle of paper cut to fit the circumference of the pot, with a little hole snipped at the center like a release valve. We used it for braises and stews too, and for glazing baby vegetables. At the time, we all thought it was kind of silly, cutting out little circles of paper instead of using the shiny lids that rose in stacks on the shelves of the teaching kitchens.

But the little circles were revelatory: They kept some moisture and heat in the pan yet allowed enough of it to escape through the vent so that the liquids could reduce at a leisurely pace.

The paper-and-scissors fun didn't stop there. We crimped more of it into pouches for salmon or bass en papillote, made cones (or cornets) for piping frosting and writing with chocolate, like a group of patient origami-makers or a diligent kindergarten class.

And the best thing? No cleanup. The cartouches and cornets, the baking sheets and cake liners, the piping bags oozing with melted Valrhona chocolate and pastry cream, were thrown away when they'd served their happy purpose. (Disposable might not be chic, but it makes practical sense for some things; and think about your harried dishwasher.)

Unlike many of the cooking techniques and fancy gizmos I got to play with in culinary school, parchment paper translates perfectly to an ordinary home kitchen.

Use parchment when you bake: Measure out your dry ingredients onto a sheet of paper — which you then roll into a funnel — and pour them straight into your bowl. Then reuse the same sheet to roll out pie dough (use one sheet underneath and, depending on the consistency of the dough, another on top) or line cake tins or form logs of cookie dough. Your cakes won't stick to the pans, nor will your doughs stick to the counter.

Cut out stencils with the paper, then dust powdered sugar or cocoa over the stencil onto the cake or cupcake below for birthday parties. Roast vegetables on a sheet of parchment so that they caramelize on the paper, not the pan. Skim grease with a torn bit of the paper, cut messy beets or mince hot chiles with a protective sheet of paper over your cutting board, or use it to line a steaming basket.

Finding parchment is easy too (unlike, say, those French crêpe pans). You can buy big sheets at cooking supply stores, and boxes of the stuff sit patiently on grocery store shelves next to the aluminum foil and plastic wrap.

Cooking en papillote (the French term) or in cartoccio (the Italian) is a simple yet dramatic preparation, in which ingredients are wrapped in paper and then baked in a hot oven. What's encased within the paper is either uncooked or partially so: The flavors come together inside the packet as the contents cook, and steam inflates the paper.

Try wrapping pasta, like a recipe for pasta cooked with goat cheese, kale and radicchio (inspired by a Lidia Bastianich recipe for "rigatoni ai cinque formaggi in cartoccio").

The pasta is cooked quite al dente, then encased in parchment with goat cheese, pine nuts and quickly sautéed greens. As the packages bake in the oven, the pasta finishes cooking while the tangy goat cheese, laced with a hint of lemon, pepper and parsley, builds a quick sauce. Ribbons of kale and radicchio don't have a chance to overcook, nor do the toasted pine nuts.

And once dinner's over — the handy wrappers tossed in the trash bin for easy cleanup.

You will need a 13-inch-wide roll of white parchment paper. (White is less brittle than unbleached brown parchment and cooks up to a lovely color.) Squid ink pasta (pictured) can be found at select groceries.

PASTA WITH GOAT CHEESE, RADICCHIO, KALE
AND PINE NUTS
(Serves 4)

1 pound thick-cut dry pasta, such as rigatoni (squid ink pasta works beautifully)
1/4 cup raw pine nuts
3 tablespoons olive oil, plus extra for brushing parchment
2 garlic cloves, minced
2 large shallots, minced (about 1/4 cup)
2 cups thinly sliced radicchio (about 1/2 head)
2 cups thinly sliced green kale (about 1/2 bunch)
1/2 cup dry white wine
11 ounces (1 large log) fresh goat cheese
1 tablespoon fresh minced flat-leaf parsley
1/2 teaspoon grated lemon zest, from 1 lemon
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
4 tablespoons freshly grated Parmesan

Heat the oven to 450 degrees.

Bring a large pot of salted water to a rolling boil and cook the pasta, stirring occasionally, until still quite al dente (there will be a layer of white in the center when you bite into it). Drain and set aside.

Sprinkle the pine nuts on a cookie sheet and toast in the oven until golden, 3 to 4 minutes. Let cool.

In a large saute pan, heat 3 tablespoons of olive oil over medium heat. Add the shallots and garlic and cook until fragrant, 1 to 2 minutes. Add the kale, radicchio and wine and stir until wilted, about 4 minutes.

In a large bowl, combine the goat cheese, kale-radicchio mixture, parsley, lemon zest and black pepper. Gently fold in the pasta until just barely combined and set aside.

Cut parchment paper into four (13-by-18-inch) rectangles. Fold each in half crosswise, then unfold the pieces and brush one half (near the center, not the edges) with olive oil. Divide the pasta mixture among the four pieces of paper, mounding it on the oiled half of the paper near the fold. Add 1 tablespoon grated Parmesan and 1 tablespoon toasted pine nuts to the top of each mound.

Fold the unoiled half of the parchment over the top of the pasta mixture. Starting at one end, fold down a small (about one-half-by-2-inch triangle) section of the paper and keep folding in increments to seal the edges. Fold until you get to the end, then tuck under the last small fold so that the packet stays secured. Repeat with each packet.

Place all four folded packets on a large baking sheet and bake for 11 minutes, until the packets begin to brown around the edges and puff slightly in the middle. Transfer the packets to individual plates and slit open at the table.

Each serving: 841 calories; 35 grams protein; 93 grams carbohydrates; 5 grams fiber; 36 grams fat; 15 grams saturated fat; 40 milligrams cholesterol; 392 milligrams sodium