After many restaurant meals in a row, I sometimes need a night off to detox. I know it's time when I find myself fantasizing about a plate of plain steamed broccoli. That happened last night, so I made this fish stew. It takes 20 minutes tops, including prep time, and can be varied endlessly: use whatever vegetables look good to you. When it's done, it's not particularly pretty, but it is restorative. Of course, you can do something similar with more spicing (I like a combo of sauteed chorizo, cod, kale, potatoes, tomatoes, garlic, and smoked paprika), but then it can no longer be called...

The Antidote (a.k.a. simplest fish stew)
Serves 2 people who can't stand to eat anything involving butter, frying, or fancy sauces

2 cups chicken broth
2 cloves garlic, sliced thin
3/4 pounds thin cod fillet
1 carrot, cut into 1/4-inch-thick half-moons
4 shiitake mushrooms, sliced
8 Brussels sprouts, halved then sliced thin
1 small head of broccoli, cut into tiniest florets
Handful pea pods
Several handfuls spinach
Salt and pepper to taste

1. Put broth in a pot big enough to hold all the ingredients. Throw in the garlic and bring to a boil over high heat.

2. Reduce heat to low and add fish, carrots, and shiitakes. Simmer gently for two minutes or so, then add remaining vegetables. Simmer till fish is cooked through, about 3 more minutes. (If you're using a thicker piece of fish, you may have to cook it longer before adding remaining vegetables.) Add salt and pepper to taste, then serve.

In yesterday's Food section, Jonathan Levitt wrote about the website smittenkitchen.com.

Deb Perelman, who runs the website, also contributes to NPR's Kitchen Window column. I just stumbled across this week's column, titled "Beyond Potstickers: Professions of a Dumpling Lover." First sentence: "I am a dumpling fanatic." Perelman goes on to discuss the many dumplings of the world. "Fear not," she writes, "I have room in my belly for all of you."

Yes, Deb, what you said. The real question in my mind is: how could anyone not be a dumpling fanatic? They're the perfect food -- protein and vegetable together in one bite-size package, not bad for you when steamed, and tasty tasty tasty. In fact, one of my many dream restaurants is called Dumpling. It would serve all those dumplings of the world -- from pierogi to xiao long bao -- to be mixed and matched with side dishes of the world. For dessert: sweet dumplings, of course.

In a recent Food section meeting, Sheryl and I discovered our lists of dream restaurants overlap. She'd call hers Plat du Jour, I'd call mine Special, but both of our restaurants would serve one menu, no choices, till the food runs out, and then the night would be over. (She says: no cranky people welcome, no substitutions.)

I love hearing about people's dream restaurants. What are yours?

I was just flipping through "Top Chef" host Padma Lakshmi's new cookbook, which came out last month. Many of the recipes in "Tangy Tart Hot & Sweet" sound intriguing -- hot and sour fruit chaat, yellow velvet lentil soup with cumin and dried plums, lamb meatballs in creamy spinach sauce, and Madras-style chicken curry are some of the dishes I'd like to cook.

But there's something oddly familiar about the book. That title ...

... It's so familiar. I wonder if much-respected cookbook authors Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid -- whose "Hot Sour Salty Sweet" came out seven years earlier -- were just a bit miffed when they saw it.

After dinner in front of the TV for so many nights, it's time to return to the table for something homey. The Culinary Institute of America sent this recipe for turkey pot pie. I often roast a half turkey breast, so there's something for sandwiches in the fridge, but I've also made pot pies with deli turkey (ask for 1/4-inch-thick slices). Although I enjoy making pastry, I like the idea of buying sheets for the top.

Turkey pot pie
Serves 4

3 tablespoons butter
1 medium onion, chopped
1 clove garlic, chopped
3 tablespoons flour
3 cups turkey or chicken broth, heated to boiling
Salt and pepper, to taste
1 carrot, chopped
1 stalk celery, chopped
1 Yukon Gold or Yellow Finn potato, diced
4 cups diced cooked turkey
1 cup green peas (thawed if frozen)
2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
2 nine-inch prepared pie crusts, frozen puff pastry sheets (thawed), or other topping such as leftover mashed potatoes

1. In a large saucepan, heat the butter over medium-high heat until it shimmers. Add the onion and cook, stirring often, for 10 minutes or until tender.
2. Add the garlic and cook for 30 seconds. Stir in the flour and cook, stirring constantly, for 2 minutes. Add the broth little by little, whisking well to prevent lumps. Bring to a boil and lower the heat to medium-low. Simmer, stirring often, for 15 minutes or until thickened. Add salt and pepper.
3. Set the oven at 350 degrees. Have on hand 4 individual baking dishes (about 2 cup capacity each).
4. Add the carrot, celery, and potato to the broth mixture. Simmer for 20 to 30 minutes or until the vegetables are tender.
5. Add the turkey and peas and remove from the heat. Taste for seasoning and add more salt and pepper, if you like. Stir in the parsley.
6. Spoon the filling into the dishes. Cut pie crust or puff pastry dough to the appropriate size and shape of the dishes to cover the filling. Cuts vents in the crust and press the edges of the dough onto the dishes to seal them.
7. Set the pies on a rimmed baking sheet. Bake them for 25 minutes or until the pastry is golden. Adapted from the Culinary Institute of America.

Our kitchen was wall-to-wall bottles, glasses, and legal pads last week when three local wine experts joined me to taste and evaluate the 50 $12-and-under retailer-nominated wines that comprise this year's Plonkapalooza entries. Labels are hidden under paper sacks, so no one knows until we're finished what wines we loved or trashed. The full story including each taster's top picks will appear in Wednesday's food section.

Winning plonk wines tend to sell out quickly each year, so you might want to make sure you've got your favorite wine shop on speed dial.

The hop harvest has finally happened. Not the one in Bavaria or the one in the Pacific Northwest, which was earlier this month and which all brewers and hop-heads are buzzing about. This was a more low-key harvest -- the one in my backyard (above).

There's nothing new about hop growing in Boston. Hops were first brought over from Europe by English settlers, and some say the first hop harvest in the New World happened in Massachusetts. Over time, though, the US hop industry has moved west, to the gentler, more fertile growing climate of Oregon and Washington.

Hops will grow here, though, so I planted three varieties -- Columbia, Cascade, and Liberty -- in late spring. One did really well, but I'm not sure which it was. I didn't label them because I was sure I'd remember the order I planted them in. Of course I didn't.

I finally got around to picking the hop flowers, and my total haul was 20. Not nearly enough to even give some aroma to a batch of homebrew. But I might try making a batch of pesto using what's left of the basil and throwing in the hops for some extra zing.

This came today from the braces-friendly American Association of Orthodontists. The cookies look like fun to make (though I have not tried them, so I hope they work).

Frightful finger cookies

1 cup (2 sticks) butter, softened
1 cup confectioners' sugar
1 egg
1 teaspoon almond extract
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 3/4 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
1/4 cup almond slices
1 tube green food coloring
1 tube red decorating gel

1. Set the oven at 325 degrees. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.
2. In a mixer, beat the butter, sugar, egg, and almond and vanilla extracts.
3. With the mixer set on low speed, beat in the flour, baking powder, and salt. Add drops of green food coloring to the dough until it is a deep green color.
4. Divide the dough into four equal parts, wrap tightly, and refrigerate for 30 minutes.
5. Using one part of the dough, break off one heaping teaspoon and roll it into a finger shape. Squeeze it around the middle of the finger to create a knuckle shape. Then, with a butter knife, make indents in several places to resemble a finger. Repeat with the remaining dough.
6. Set the fingers on the baking sheet. Bake for 20 to 25 minutes or until firm.
7. Let the cookies sit until cool. Squeeze red decorating gel onto the tip of each finger and gently press an almond slice on top so the gel oozes out from underneath. Adapted from "CDKitchen.com's" Marlene C. Mcasias

We ate this turkey soup last night while watching the Red Sox. Here's what I thought: cool evening, nourishing soup, transportable to TV if served in deep bowls. It all worked out well. That is, except the outcome of the game.

There's more soup for tomorrow's game but I feel compelled to change the menu.

Superstitious? I could teach the Sox a thing or two.

and this:

The kitchen was inexpensive and aggravating. When it comes to construction, the aggravating part is normal. The inexpensive is not.

I've never met a dumpling I didn't like, so I was thrilled to see "A World of Dumplings" (The Countryman Press) in my towering pile of cookbooks. Author Brian Yarvin offers 100 round, plump, and filling little bundles. Yarvin is a food and commercial photography instructor and his book is dense with photos.

He has taken some very charming pictures of kids and dumplings, along with lots of close-ups of crimping, folding, and wrapping. You'll find Japanese gyoza, Cantonese shrimp dumplings, Indian samosas (along with a samosa log of learning to make them himself), Turkish manti, Polish vareniki, Jewish kreplach, and more.

He's obsessed -- in a good way.

This handsome dude is Zeke Goodband, whom I first met some years ago at Alyson's Apple Orchard in Walpole, N.H., where he was head orchardist and introduced the heirloom apple program. Now Zeke is growing his beautiful fruits at Scott Farm in Dummerston, Vt.

On Sunday, Oct. 28, Zeke is bringing his Ashmead's Kernel, Esopus Spitzenberg and other heirlooms to Arnold Arboretum at noon, to guide you through a tasting of 15 varieties raw, five baked, and heirloom ciders as well. There's nothing in the world of apples that this gentleman doesn't know. Cost is $20 and Scott Farm apples will be for sale (cash only). The event is sponsored by Slow Food Boston. Arnold Arboretum is taking reservations (617-524-1718, ext 160).

If you see Zeke, tell him I have never ever left an apple unrefrigerated since the day I met him, and that Mutsu, which he introduced me to, are still my all-time favorite fruits.

Out yesterday: "The Food Snob's Dictionary," which runs from "Acme Bread Company" to "Zingerman's," with plenty of stops in between. It's by David Kamp, the "United States of Arugula" guy, and Marion Rosenfeld. The tongue-in-cheek reference offers definitions such as:

Cepe. Cloying French synonym for porcini mushroom, used on menus to confuse diners who think porcinis are old news. Truly pretentious chefs use the term boletus mushrooms for cepes/porcinis, a shorthand allusion to the fungus's Latin name, Boletus edulis.

and

Reichl, Ruth. Prodigiously maned gastro-sensualist and writer. ... Though prone to onanistic, self-aggrandizing prose and batty flights of fancy -- wearing unnecessarily elaborate disguises while visiting restaurants, frequently invoking her dead mother as a speaking character in reviews -- Reichl has more than creditably served as the editor of Gourmet since 1999.

You get the picture. There are also interludes with titles such as "A pronunciation guide to food snob-esteemed personages" (Grant ACK-etz etc.) and "The food snob filmography" (#1: "Spartacus").

This is thinking ahead, but it has stocking stuffer written all over it.

Turducken is a Cajun specialty in which you stuff a chicken inside a duck, then stuff the duck inside a turkey. Making it is a very involved process, which Paul Prudhomme details nicely here, with helpful step-by-step pictures.

I admire the effort, and I'd love to try turducken made by someone else, but I'm not going to go to the trouble myself -- much less go to the trouble and then feed it to my dog, who would be just as happy eating peanut butter stuffed inside an unidentifiable object she found on the road stuffed inside an old gym sock. (Peanobjock? Anyway, I'm pretty sure she's eaten it.)

Fortunately, when your dog demands turducken, you can just serve it to her out of a can. The pet food company Merrick offers turducken dog food. Their recipe includes the requisite turkey, duck, and chicken, as well as green beans, carrots, apples, sweet potatoes, thyme, sage, and rosemary. You can order it from them, or pick some up at the Polka Dog Bakery in the South End, which is where I spotted it.

In Mat Schaffer's review of KO Prime in today's Boston Herald, he writes:

"The waitstaff couldn't have been less attentive -- dangerously so. Halfway through our entrees, my dinner companion rose from the table in obvious distress, choking. I administered the Heimlich maneuver three times until she was able to breathe. Not one KO Prime employee came to our assistance during the emergency or inquired, afterward, if she was all right.

"'It's definitely something we try and recognize and train our staff to react to -- it should have been and we apologize that it wasn't,' said Frank Kawecki, area director of operations for KO Prime, in a telephone interview yesterday. 'We should have seen it and we're still trying to find out why we didn't and what we can do to better react to a situation like this in the future.'"

That's just downright alarming, in a restaurant of any caliber (though I should mention I've had pretty good service at KO Prime -- Globe review here).

I always hoped I could count on restaurant staff to save me and my dining companions from choking. Maybe not. Mat, will you teach me how to do the Heimlich?

P.S. Who was the twisted copy editor who headlined his review "KO Prime lacks punch"?