It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, and I'd just gotten home from the farmers market with, as usual, several bags of vegetables and no firm idea of what I was going to fix for dinner. So I did what I usually do in that situation — started leafing through cookbooks.

I picked up the first one and — I swear this is true — it fell open to this very page:

"The subtle structure of harmonies drawn from a combination of tender young vegetables cooked (or, to be more accurate, sweated) together with butter (or olive oil or a combination) in a heavy, tightly covered vessel, each added, raw or precooked, at a specific moment corresponding to its own needs, the complexity of savory autonomies butter-bound in an amalgam of their own fragrances, accented by the caress of an herb or two — a melting, shimmering balance of separateness and unity in fragile suspension... ."

What's unusual is not that I was turning to Richard Olney's Simple French Food for guidance but that in a book I've read and re-read dozens of times, here was a section I didn't recall.

It was on mixed vegetable stews, free-form affairs based on what you have on hand and what you feel like cooking, or as Olney so much more eloquently put it, their composition "depends on the season and on whim and, insofar as they are never twice identical, one must, each time, more or less 'feel' one's way through the preparation."

Poetic as the description might be, it does seem to imply a certain carelessness, or at least free-spiritedness. Rather than spelling out specific measures of set ingredients, what Olney gives in this recipe is a structure for a dish, a blueprint you can fit to your fancy.

Basic rules:

A recipe written this way is open-ended; your enjoyment of it isn't predicated upon being able to find an exact set of ingredients or following an exact set of instructions.

You're going by instinct rather than by rote, and that's how you become a real cook.

The basic rules for vegetable stews are few, but they are simple: You want some onions; you want whole cloves of garlic, preferably unpeeled; you want some lettuces or greens for moisture; and you want butter — lots of butter.

Given this framework, you can sift through what is best at the market, finding those combinations of vegetables that will result in the harmonies Olney so expressively describes. Sort them according to their required cooking times (and whether they need to be pre-cooked — dense vegetables such as potatoes almost certainly will).

After you have organized your thinking, the preparation is simple. The result is unfailingly delicious.


Juice of 1 lemon

4 medium or 8 small artichokes (about 11/2 pounds)

2 bulbs fennel (about 13/4 pounds)

1 pound fingerling potatoes

4 cloves garlic, minced

Pinch cracked red pepper flakes

Zest of 1/2 orange (about 1 teaspoon)

Fresh thyme

1 teaspoon salt

1/4 cup olive oil

2 ounces unpitted black olives

Preparation: Heat the oven to 375 degrees.

To prepare the artichokes: Fill a bowl with cool water and add the juice of one lemon. Hold an artichoke in one hand with the stem facing toward you and the tip facing away. Slowly turn the artichoke against the sharp edge of a knife while making an abbreviated sawing motion. You will begin to cut through the tough outer leaves; keep trimming until you've cut away enough of the tough leaves so you can see only light green at the bases. Cut away about the top half-inch of the artichoke tip and dip the artichoke into the lemon wate.

Trim away the very tip of the stem, then peel the stem and base of the artichok. When you're done, there should be no dark-green tough spots left, only pale green and ivory.

Cut each artichoke into lengthwise quarters, and if there is a fuzzy choke inside, cut just below the choke to the very base of the leaves and the choke will pop off. Place the artichoke in the lemon water and go on to the next artichoke.

To prepare the fennel, trim away the dried-out bottom of the bulb. Cut the bulb in quarters lengthwise and slice away most of the triangular solid core at the center, leaving just enough to hold the bulb together. Cut each wedge in half again lengthwise to make 8 lengthwise wedges from each bulb.

Slice the potatoes in half lengthwise.

Transfer all of the vegetables into a mixing bowl. Add the minced garlic, cracked pepper flakes, orange zest, the leaves of two to three sprigs of fresh thyme, the salt and olive oil and mix well with to make sure the vegetables are evenly covered.

Spread a rectangular sheet of parchment paper or aluminum foil on a work surface.

Arrange the oiled vegetables in a low mound centered on half of the paper and top with the olives. Fold the other half of the paper over and fold and crumple the edges together to form a tight seal. Place the packet on a jellyroll pan and bake until the potatoes are tender, about 45 minutes.

Remove from the oven. If you wish, serve the vegetables in their baking paper. Sprinkle lightly with coarse salt to taste. and serve immediately.