Or at least not like this. Yeah dude!

Sauteed Baby Bok Choy, Garlic and Portobello Mushrooms

I discovered this dish when I lived in San Francisco in the summer of ’69, I mean, ’01, as a student on Trinity’s now-defunct San Francisco program, where I stayed in a historic mansion with a live-in chef named James, learned about sixties counterculture (read into that whatever you like), got addicted to Counter-Strike and wrote my final essay about the evil that is Disneyland, after four grueling days of roller coasters, that is.

As nobody knows, San Francisco has an incredible Chinatown, and the restaurants there are probably some of the best on this side of the Pacifico. I used to cruise on my own in those days (ha, not like now, no sirree) and I popped into the most non-descript basement I could find and ordered up a vegetable I’d never heard of. (This was the summer when my vegetarianism became what it is today, which is to say, lacking.)

Bok Choy is Chinese for “cabbage”, which is exactly what it sounds like. Portobello mushrooms are Whole-Foods speak for “bourgeois”, and they even came pre-sliced. Neither of these items could be found in either Japan or Hungary, which is yet more proof of how Obama has saved us all. Garlic comes from heaven, and it can be found in Hungary, where it is called “fokhagyma”, and Japan, where it is referred to as “ninniku”. I don’t know what “nin” means, but “niku” means meat. See what I said about vegetarianism?

We’ll be pairing this dish with unsalted white rice, which is how the Chinese would do it, and we should all begin learning a lot more about China these days. Anyway, the vegetables themselves will not fill you up, so a carbohydrate is necessary. Remember to eat every last grain, or you will be disrespecting the poor farmers who broke their backs planting, harvesting and de-shelling that rice, not to mention carrying it all the way from China to Fresh Pond Circle. Recipe after the jump.

Here’s what you’ll need:

• About 1.5 bunches of baby bok choy per person, separated and washed.
• One package pre-sliced portobello mushrooms, separated from their plastic and styrofoam (Do Not Want).
• More garlic than you can handle.
• Soy sauce of three-hundred-sixty-five seasons, hot sauce from your sister’s wedding party three years ago. Yeah dude!
• Rice, water, oil.

First, start cooking the rice. You can use the handy-dandy recipe on the packaging, which I’ve been finding works really well: boil the water, pop in a thick tab of butter, stir in the rice and reduce to a simmer, and cook, covered for 20 minutes. No stick, slick!

Chop up your garlic. You’re gonna need more than that.

Yeah, that’s what I’m talkin’ about. Yes, keep that little mutant leg thingy in there.

Now toss that in your wok, or in my case, your metal pan.

Cook that on high for about a minute until it just starts to brown, then reduce heat to med-low and add your bok choy. Add about a mouthful of water, cover, and let simmer for three minutes.

While you wait, wash your colander.

Next, add the mushrooms, a healthy squirt of hot sauce, and a ton of soy sauce. Yeah, a lot. You really can’t add enough soy sauce. G’head, add a little bit more. I know I put in at least 6/10 of a bottle. Also add a dash of salt and pepper, because we all like to get a little crazy now and then. Also, some of this special spice:

The label reads: “Not for Export”. Proper spicing is something I learned early in college, when I tried to “just experiment” when making dinner for a blond engineering whiz with a French name. Needless to say, it was not just her plan to work in the defense industry after graduation that soured the mood. But I digress.

Stir it all up a bit and then cover. Cook for about 5-7 minutes (or 6, if a bicameral legislature was never “your thing”), stirring occasionally, or until the mushrooms have just started soaking up the juices (but are still firm), and the bok choy is just slightly still crunchy.

Remember: the worst thing you can do is overcook. You are really only heating this up, just like your grandma without a microwave does to leftover crab cakes.

Serve it up next to the rice, on top of the rice, behind the rice, or whatever your kama sutra desk calendar recommends for a Tuesday. I usually like to mix it up a bit. Don’t forget the sauce. Yeah dude!

Bon appetite!