Before I get to today’s recipe, I’d like to mention two gifts: one for you, and one for me.
The first is the Simply Bar giveaway prize you can win by going here. The giveaway is on until September 7th, so you’ve still got time to enter!
The second is a gift I received in the mail this week, from the amazing and incredibly thoughtful Johanna of Green Gourmet Giraffe. Johanna is a new mum who manages to cook several fantastic dishes a week and still finds time to blog about them, take care of her darling baby girl, maintain a household and (from the sounds of it on her blog) an active social life as well. I’m incapable of accomplishing even half of that in a day–without any children! (Well, some people say that having a dog is like having a three year-old, one who never grows up. Still, I was never that productive, even before The Girls!). I was so thrilled with my present that I could barely wait until I got the package inside the house to rip it open.
Here are the authentic Aussie goodies that I found inside:
[Left to right: Promite (or vegemite), similar to Marmite, something I've been dying to try out for ages; Tasmania Mountain spices; Oz Tukka spices (including wattleseed, which I cannot WAIT to use in some brownies or truffles!), Lemon Myrtle soap (smells absolutely heavenly), an incredibly clever Melbourne snow-dome (they don't really get snow in Melbourne, do they?), and, in the back, a lovely bag from the botanical gardens and an Australian linen tea towel embellished with adorable koala bears.]
Such a generous and thoughtful gift–thank you so much, Johanna! It made my day–nay, my week!
Until I can begin to cook with my native Aussie ingredients, I have a few Canadian-made recipes to blog about. Such as this tomato tart, which began its short life as a pizza–sort of.
All around me these days, I see gardens flourishing in the heart of tomato season. Heirloom varieties and beefsteak and plums and cherry tomatoes are all ripening on vines. Our neighbours to the north have tomato plants that look like something out of Little Shop of Horrors, with vines that threaten to climb over the six-foot fence separating our properties and encroach on our yard, halted only by the profusion of ponderous red fruit dangling from their branches, keeping them weighted toward the ground.
In my own garden, sadly, there is no similar abundance of these fruit-cum-vegetables. Is it because I didn’t use chemical fertilizers? Is it because I didn’t pull the weeds thoroughly enough? Is it because the HH refuses to start a compost bin and I couldn’t properly feed the soil (shameful, I know)? Or is it because I simply suck at gardening?
Whatever the reason, plants that should at this very moment be yielding dozens of plump, juicy tomatoes are instead tentatively offering me only four (four!) squat, pebble-like, green fruit. I can only hope that the sunshine we experienced today continues for at least a month so that my poor tomatoes can reach full maturity before they are plucked from their stalks to sacrifice their lives in service to my plate (and my palate).
Yearning fresh tomatoes, I decided to do what any reasonable person would do instead: purchase them. Our local market was showcasing Ontario tomatoes in varying autumnal shades from deep crimson to rust to mustard yellow. I decided to buy a few of each and create the quintessential late-summer dish: a tomato tart.
Actually, a tart wasn’t my first choice; I had originally intended to create a pizza. A couple of weeks ago, I attempted my first gluten-free pizza crust, mostly to see if I could (and I figured my own creation couldn’t possibly be worse than the stiff, glossy, linoleum-hard crust I’d been ordering at Il Fornello whenever we eat there lately).
After combining elements of several recipes I found on the web, I mixed my ingredients and patted the dough into the pan. I pre-baked it to avoid the soggy center syndrome, then topped with pesto, veggies, and some ground pine nuts. And while the pie was actually quite tasty, it couldn’t qualify as pizza. With its crisp, slightly flaky crust and tender crumb, it was just too much like a biscuit to work as a pizza dough.
Well, have you ever read Real Simplemagazine? (it’s one of my summer-vacation indulgences, along with People). The magazine devotes an entire column each month to “new uses for old things,” or ways you can employ items in a completely different context from their original, intended, use. For instance, old cardboard rolls from paper towels can be used to separate and organize your computer cables (just string the cables through them one at a time). Rubber bands can be used to open jar lids. Post-It Notes can be used to clean your computer keyboard. Empty water bottles can be used as throw toys for Chaser, who will retrieve them indefinitely, or until she collapses on her pillow, whichever comes first. And so on.
Actually, Malcolm Gladwell talks about this same phenomenon in his latest book, Outliers. He cites a test of creativity in which people are asked to provide as many uses as they can for common items such as a brick. Aside from the obvious (“to build walls”), the most creative people came up with uses such as “To break windows for robbery. . . to use as ammunition, as pendulum, to practice carving. . . as a hammer, keep door open, footwiper, use as rubble for path filling. . . to prop up wobbly table, paperweight. . . to block up rabbit hole.”
Then there are the people who move to new and useful occupations after spending time in a previous incarnation: Julia Child, who became a chef and cookbook author after spending years supporting her husband in his diplomatic endeavors; John Grisham, who turned to writing best-selling suspense novels after a career as a lawyer; or Joaquin Pheonix, who made the transition from acting to singing rap last year (oh, wait, I said “useful,” didn’t I? Strike that last one).
Heck, “I can be creative!” I thought. “I can turn that pizza crust into a brick!” I decided to re-purpose the pizza crust as a savory rustic tart crust instead–one that requires neither rolling nor cutting, but only strong fingertips to pinch the edges high enough to enclose the filling.
(“Mum, that’s a great new idea for the pizza crust. But you could have just re-purposed it as dog treats, you know.”)
I covered the crust with thick slices of my tri-color tomatoes and hefty blobs of cashew goat cheese, which I’ve been eating lately by the boatload, it seems. (It’s piquant, creamy, and incredibly versatile in a variety of dishes, such as these daringly hot appetizers). Scattered with thin shreds of fresh, brilliantly green basil from our garden (at least something is growing as it should) and then drizzled with a tad more olive oil, this tart provided a flavorful, filling and aesthetically pleasing supper.
And so, what started life as a merely adequate pizza crust found its true fulfillment at last. Gladwell would be proud.
Freeform Tomato Tart with “Goat Cheese” and Fresh Basil
A lovely, easy weekday dinner, as long as you’ve got the cheese already on hand. This tart is also a perfect contribution to a brunch table, as it tastes just as good at room temperature.
Tart Crust:
1/3-1/2 cups ( g) brown rice flour
1/4 c (60 ml) whole bean flour
1/4 c (60 ml) chickpea flour
1/4 tsp (1 ml) xanthan gum (probably not necessary, but I had a bag in the freezer)
1/4 c (60 ml) finely ground flax
1-1/2 tsp (7.5 ml) baking powder
1/4 tsp (1 ml) baking soda
1/4 tsp (1 ml) fine sea salt
2 Tbsp (30 ml) natural smooth almond butter
1 Tbsp (15 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
1/2 c (120 ml) unsweetened soy or almond milk, or vegetable bouillon
Filling:
Cashew “goat cheese” (I used this recipe without the pepper crust; or use another recipe of your choice)
4 medium ripe but firm tomatoes, cut about 1/4″ (.5 cm) thick
2 Tbsp (30 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
3-4 fresh basil leaves, sliced into very thin strips
more extra virgin olive oil, for drizzling
Preheat oven to 400F (200C). Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper.
In a large bowl, sift the brown rice flour, whole bean flour, chickpea flour and xanthan gum, if using. Add the flax seeds, baking powder, baking soda and sea salt and whisk to blend. Set aside.
In a small bowl, whisk together the almond butter and olive oil. Slowly add the soymilk and blend well. Pour the wet mixture over the dry and stir to blend. The dough will be very soft, but still hold together.
Using wet fingers, press the dough into a rectangle about 12′” x 7″ (30.5 cm x 18 cm), with a 1/2″ (1.25 cm) ridge along the edges. Bake 10-15 minutesin preheated oven, until the top is dry and the crust puffs just a bit.
Arrange the tomatoes evenly over the top and bake another 35-40 minutes, until crust is crispy and dry on bottom (cover the edges with foil if they begin to brown too much). Add the cheese during the last 15 minutes of baking time, and continue to cook until cheese is beginning to brown. Sprinkle with basil and drizzle with a little more olive oil just before serving. Makes 8 servings.
[As promised, today I'm posting a giveaway along with this recipe. Who knew there were so many Larabar fans out there? But no, my friends, sorry to say that no one guessed the bar I'm giving away! (Though I did love Alex's suggestion that it might be one of The Girls' treats.). I'm guessing these bars are new to most of you. . .so get ready to be delighted, to be taste-tempted, and to become an instant fan! To learn more about the bars and the giveaway, go here. Then be sure to come back to leave a comment--and for this yummy recipe!]
Remember last week, when I crowed about summer finally arriving in Southern Ontario? Well, little did I know that that single day would constitute the entire season! As of this week, we’re waking up to a distinct chill under ever-darkening skies; there’s condensation on my car windows when I slip into the driver’s seat; and the air has that crisp, hollow clarity that seems to catapult sounds exponentially, even across mountains (not that there are any mountains in our little suburb, of course, but you get the idea).
Huh? Where did our summer go this year?
This type of weather always brings to mind a course in oil painting I took back in tenth grade (my brain tends to free associate that way). With my high school art teacher’s encouragement and visions of a really hip garret in my mind, I rode the Number 17 bus across town for an hour each way every Thursday evening to sit at my easel and soak up instruction about rendering depth, shadows, perspective. . . and to paint nude models. Yep, this little 15 year-old moi was mighty shocked, I must confess, at the cavalier nature with which those women threw off their cover sheets and posed in any variety of positions for us novice painters (as I recall, I came down with a cold the evening of the male model class. . .but in reality, I was probably too freaked out to attend. Ah, sweet and innocent youth!).
One of the things I loved most about oil painting was the pigments themselves, the linimint smell and gooey texture, and the magical, musical names by which they were known: Burnt Umber. Burnt Sienna. Cerulean Blue. Cadmium Red. Cadmium Yellow. Yellow Ochre. I loved the cadences in the sounds and the appearance of the hues just out of the tubes–deep, intense versions of the real-life counterparts (sort of like using super-saturation when you doctor your blog photos–except real!). For some reason (perhaps the fact that I was born in the fall), the warming reds, oranges and yellows were most appealing to me, and I often painted with those.
Suddenly, all around our neighborhood are reminders of my foray into oil painting: amid the remnants of green, the trees are beginning to sport their fall finery, festooned with splashes of ochre, rust and crimson, all vying for prominence on the branches.
So when I served dinner to a couple of old friends last night, I thought this warm summer salad would be perfect. Leaning heavily on the emeralds of June and July, highlighted with the yellows of August and September, this dish bridges the short divide between summer and fall as the weather extends its first chilly grip (or would that be grippe?) on Ontario’s resentful denizens.
Remember that high school reunion I attended back in May? Well, ever since then, I’ve planned to get together with my old friend The Poet. The Poet (so named because he penned the poem that graced our yearbook’s cover page) and I were best buds back in high school and through our undergraduate years. He helped me survive those boyfriendless undergraduate years without feeling like too much of a social outcast, by providing a Saturday night perma-date. A contemplative, sensitive soul, TP could also be uproariously funny and always cracked me up.
Eventually, we lost touch. We had neither seen nor heard from each other until the reunion. Just as Sterlin and I were loitering around the hotel lobby after checkin, I heard a distinctive bellow: “Ricki Heller, I’d recognize you anywhere!” and turned to see none other than TP. (On one hand, I was flattered to hear this; I suppose it means I look sort of the same as I did in high school. On the other hand, I was a bit aggrieved to hear this. I mean, do I look the same as I did in high school??).
And while many of us that weekend promised to get together once we were back in the city, I really meant it when I vowed to contact The Poet again. And so, last evening, he and another old high school chum came to dinner.
This dish was one of the dinner’s highlights. Also featured were a terrific leafy green salad with roasted peppers and “goat cheese” (recipe anon); herbed sweet potato fries; raw almond-veggie pâté; and (for me) herbed walnut burgers (another recipe I’ll post soon) plus salmon for the guys. For dessert, I served the chocolate layer cake with chocolate buttercream frosting from Sweet Freedom** and filled it with sweet potato buttercream (a huge hit).
I based this recipe very loosely on one I came across in the Australia Women’s WeeklyVegetarian Cookbook, a salad called “Hot Spinach and Pea Salad” (even though the actual recipe lists chard, not spinach, in the ingredients!). Since I am wont to wax poetic about all things antipodean (I know, it’s more like, ”wax pathetic”), it makes sense I’d veer toward this dish. But I’ve made so many changes to the original, I consider it entirely mine now.
The salad can be served warm or at room temerature (I actually prefer the latter) and features a truly resplendent display of autumnal greens and golds. The flavors are mild and pleasing, without a sharp sting of garlic or spice; just a flavorsome combination of Asian seasonings, just-soft zucchini, crunchy, juicy beans and plump, sweet peas.
Best of all, it only takes 10 minutes to make–so you can still run outside and catch the last few rays of that elusive summer sun.
**For those of you who have the book, be sure to check the correction here!
Gold and Green Warm Summer Salad
A warm, filling dish that can help you through the transition from summer to autumn. You can use edamame in place of the peas if you’d like to boost the protein for a main dish.
1 Tbsp (15 ml) sesame seeds, toasted
1 Tbsp (15 ml) coconut oil, preferably organic
1 clove garlic, minced
6 collard leaves, shredded
1 medium (250 g) yellow zucchini (summer squash)
2 cups (480 ml) fresh green beans, cut in half
1 cup (240 ml) fresh or frozen peas or shelled edamame, thawed
2 Tbsp (30 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
In a large, heavy-bottomed pot or cast-iron skillet, melt the coconut oil over medium heat. Add the garlic and collard and sauté until greens are wilted. Add the zucchini, beans and peas and cook another 2-3 minutes.
Meanwhile, in a small bowl, whisk together the olive oil, Bragg’s, lemon juice and ginger. Pour the mixture over the vegetables in the pan and cook another 2-3 minutes, until warmed through. Add salt and pepper to taste. Sprinkle with sesame seeds just before serving. Makes 4 servings. May be frozen.
I apologize for the delay in posting the promised yummy giveaway! The site is being updated to comply with BlogHer requirements for contests and reviews (a new, dedicated page just for such things is being created).
The new page should be ready tomorrow, and I’ll post the giveaway then. In the meantime, I thought it might be fun if people wanted to guess what the prize is! If you guess correctly, you’ll get two extra entries
All you have to do is leave a comment on this post telling me what you think the giveaway will be. To help y’all out, I’m offering these clues:
Curious yet?? I love these goodies and have been enjoying them on occasion for a couple of years now. And the bonus is that they’re ACD-friendly (during the latter phases of the program, anyway).
Don’t worry if someone else has already left a comment with your guess in it–I will award the two bonus entries to anyone who guesses correctly, even if someone else already guessed right, too!
Have fun and see you tomorrow!
“Oh, Mum, it’s positively cruel to make us wait until tomorrow! Especially Since Elsie and I already know what the prize is.”
“Don’t worry, Chaser–she forgot to say that the treats are also dog-friendly (well, except for the chocolate varieties). Which means we’ll get our fair share tomorrow as well.”
[Sometimes, you just want to eat something now. I've decided to offer a mini-post every once in a while, for a dish that comes together incredibly quickly or else is so easy to make that no recipe is required. Here's today's "Flash in the Pan." (For other FitP recipes, see "Categories" at right).]
Over the past year or so, it seems that a bowl of humble oatmeal has catapulted to star status on food blogs. Not just any oatmeal, either; old-fashioned, cooked, steel-cut oatmeal–but with fancy add-ins.
When I first started this blog near the end of 2007, I wrote about one of my favorite breakfasts: baked oats. Back then, I couldn’t have imagined all the recent variations on steel-cut oatmeal that have since materialized, from those with almond butter stirred into them (fabulous–it creates an incredibly creamy cereal); to blended oats (gotta love the ultra-smooth texture!); to carrot cake oats (with carrots and “frosting”); and even spinach oats, with their vibrant emerald hue (and while I love my greens, I can’t say I’m quite ready for Shrek-inspired oats just yet).
So I’m guessing that someone has already posted about my new love, zucchini bread oats, but since I haven’t come across the recipe, I’m sharing it here (and hey, if you’ve already posted about it on your own blog, let me know!).
I’ve been enjoying this breakfast about once a week over the past month or so, what with the abundance of zucchini at the markets these days. Not only is this a great way to enjoy those overgrown 10-inch zukes*, but the grated zucchini softens and fairly melts into the oats when cooked so that it’s barely discernible and virtually tasteless in the mix. And as a bonus, it adds fiber, moisture, Vitamins A, C, and K, as well as good amounts of magnesium, manganese, and potassium to your morning meal.
“Mum, we’d be happy to give those spinach oats a try–the color wouldn’t bother us at all. Besides, since we’re color blind, we won’t even notice the green. Oh, and we probably wouldn’t notice it in any case, given that we’d lick the bowl clean within about 2.5 seconds.”
Zucchini Bread Oatmeal
Infinitely adaptable, this recipe is great when you’ve got leftover cooked grains, extra zucchini, or just feel like a hearty, tummy-warming breakfast.
Per serving:
2/3 cup (160 ml) water or soy, almond, or rice milk
pinch fine sea salt
1/3 cup (80 ml) dry steel-cut oatmeal
1/4 medium zucchini, grated very fine (use smallest holes on box grater, or “fine” blade on food processor)
handful chopped pecans
1/2-1 tsp (2.5-5 ml) cinnamon, to your taste
pinch nutmeg or 1/8 tsp (.5 ml) ground ginger, if desired
1 heaping Tbsp (20 ml) natural smooth almond butter, or nut/seed butter of your choice
handful raisins, if desired
1 Tbsp (15 ml) agave nectar or maple syrup, or 5 drops stevia liquid
In a heavy bottomed pot, bring the water and salt to a boil over high heat. Add the oats, lower the heat to simmer, cover, and cook for 15 minutes, stirring once or twice (if the bottom begins to scorch, add a bit more liquid).
After 15 minutes, add the zucchini, nuts, cinnamon and nutmeg. Stir well, then cover again and cook for another 5 minutes. (Again, if the oats are too dry, add a bit more liquid).
Remove from heat, stir in the almond butter. Stir before serving with sweetener of your choice and more milk, if desired. Makes one serving.
NOTE: This is not a zucchini-flavored oatmeal; you won’t really taste any zucchini in this (though you might detect a few shreds here and there). The veggie is just a silent nutritional bonus!
Variation: You can substitute about 3/4 cup (180 ml) of another cooked grain of your choice for the oats and water. In that case, either reheat the grains in about 1/2 cup (120 ml) milk before adding the remaining ingredients, or blend the grain, nut butter, cinnamon, nutmeg, and 1/2 cup (120 ml) milk in a food processor before warming gently for 7-10 minutes; stir in the zucchini and then allow to warm through before serving.
* Sorry, people who found this post via those depraved Google search terms–I’m talking about food.
Oh, and stay tuned next time for a yummy giveaway!
[Grain-free biscuits as a base for Nectarine Shortcakes. . . ACD-friendly!]
Today’s post will be a short one*, as I’m still frantically marking essays in preparation for our final exams tomorrow (and then more marking!). But I’ve been wanting to post this for days and have been too busy baking up a storm for yesterday’s Breakfast Televisionappearance. Thanks to everyone who sent good wishes via email, comments, twitter, Facebook, etc. (and thanks again, PR Queen, for your devotion to the cause, waking up at 4:30 to help)–I really appreciated it!
I had a great time and even got to talk about some key ingredients and recipes from Sweet Freedom–so much fun! (well, maybe not having to wake up in the middle of the night–literally–in order to be at the studio by 6:30 AM. But talking about cake and frosting was fun). I’m trying to acquire a copy of the segment so I can post it online–will let you know when I get one!
But you’re not here to chat about TV (well, not exclusively, anyway), are you? And you know that I’m always tickled to chat about baking.
Now that I’ve decided to venture into the realm of baked goods once again, I’ve been playing in the kitchen and seem to have permanent flour dust on my cheeks. After five months with neither flours nor sweeteners (not to mention a host of other ingredients), and even though I’m thrilled with the weight loss, I did sorely miss my muffins, quick breads, bars, cookies, cakes–you get the idea.
Enter grain-free coconut flour, bean flours and buckwheat flour–and a very steep learning curve. And now, make room for biscuits!
My first attempt at grain-free baking, the Grain-Free Lemony Almond Pancakes, were a huge hit, both at home and on this blog. Today’s Coconut Flour Biscuits are my latest effort, and I have to say I’m equally happy with the results (if eating 2 biscuits a day for a week is any indicator of “happy”).
Actually, it’s probably a good thing I’m not yet back to baking my usual treats for now. Clearly, I still have no self control when it comes to baked goods.
[Coconut Flour biscuits without embellishments. . . .]
These scones were the result of my yearningneeddesperation desire to create something that approximated a baked good without actually being a conventional baked good. Rather than use chickpea flour once again (as I did in both of these), I wanted something different to provide a lighter texture and appearance.
Then I remembered my bag of coconut flour in the freezer. I’d purchased it on a previous foray to Whole Foods, where I’d been dazzled by the tempting array of photoshop-perfect produce, local and artisanal crackers and breads, refrigerated glass cases resplendent with Basil-Lime-Chili Tofu (a favorite), spelt berry salads, roasted veggies, veggie patties, tofu “steaks,” even kale and seaweed salad (and all available to sample, just for the asking!).
I spied a bag of coconut flour and, having read a lot about it and its astonishing ability to absorb moisture and contribute additional fiber to dishes (it’s apparently got 61% fiber–the highest of any flour), how could I resist? I figured I’d sprinkle 1/4 cup here, 1/4 cup there to various baked goods. I made something (can’t remember what), then plopped the bag into the freezer for later use, and haven’t touched it since.
[. . . or slathered with almond butter for a delicious breakfast.]
Until now, that is. Well, when I swung open the freezer the other day and noticed the bag sitting there, my spirits lagged as soon as I read the “best before” date. Like a cheerleader on prom night, that flour was about to go bad. I knew I had to save it! I concocted some biscuits and ate two right away. (I wasn’t being a glutton. I was saving that flour from itself, so to speak.)
I’m thrilled this recipe worked out, as I’ve finally got something substantial on which I can slather nut butter for breakfast, and there’s no guilt about diverging from the ACD. They are also the base for that colorful shortcake at the top of the post (variation included below).
These are dense yet tender, without a pronounced coconut flavor. While they’re not a perfect reproduction of conventional biscuits, they were still tasty enough to pass the “HH Test.” In fact, I was forced to bake up a second batch after the HH tried them, because he ate two in a row.
Now that I’ve discovered such a great use for the flour, I should have no problem finishing up that bag. It felt good to be able to use it before it expired. Oh, and to be baking again.
*Well, short for me, anyway, as loquacious as I am. Brings to mind a joke my friend Sterlin and I started in highschool, during the era of four-hour phone marathons: during a particularly busy time one evening, I called Sterline to chat. After the hellos, she warned me: “I really can’t stay on the phone tonight. Half an hour,max.”
Grain Free Coconut Flour Biscuits
Surprisingly light, these biscuits are perfect for breakfast or as an accompaniment to a saucy dish. While they’re not as cakelike as conventional biscuits, they make a great substitute that can satisfy a craving for carbs in a low-carb treat.
1 Tbsp (30 ml) freshly squeezed lemon juice, plus enough soy, almond or rice milk to equal 1 cup (240 ml)
1-1/2 tsp (7.5 ml) pure vanilla extract
3 Tbsp (45 ml) finely ground flax seeds
1 Tbsp (15 ml) agave nectar, light or dark, or 10 drops stevia
2 Tbsp (30 ml) melted organic coconut oil, plus 1 Tbsp (15 ml) for brushing tops
3/4 tsp (3.5 ml) baking powder
3/4 tsp (3.5 ml) baking soda
1/4 tsp (1 ml) fine sea salt
1/2 cup plus 1 Tbsp (135 ml) coconut flour
3 Tbsp (45 ml) buckwheat flour (or use chickpea or whole bean flour)
Preheat oven to 400F. Line a cookie sheet with parchment, or spray with nonstick spray.
Place the 1 Tbsp (15 ml) lemon juice in the bottom of a glass measuring cup, and add milk until the liquid measures 1 cup (240 ml). Add the vanilla, flax and agave or stevia to the cup and stir; whisk in the 2 Tbsp (30 ml) melted coconut oil until evenly combined. Set aside while you measure the dry ingredients, or at least 2 minutes.
In a medium bowl, sift the coconut flour, buckwheat flour, baking powder, baking soda and sea salt. Pour the liquid over the dry ingredients and stir quickly just to blend. Do not overmix. The mixture will seem a bit soft initially but will absorb the liquid fairly quickly; this is as it should be. (If using buckwheat flour, you may need to add 1-2 Tbsp (15-30 ml) more milk to attain the desired texture). The mixture should be softer than a regular dough, yet still hold together, almost like a thick cookie dough.
Using a large scoop or 1/3 cup (80 ml) measuring cup, scoop the batter and place mounds on the cookie sheet. Flatten each mound slightly with your palm or a silicon spatula.
Bake for 12 minutes in preheated oven. Remove from the oven and brush very gently with the final 1 Tbsp (15 ml) melted coconut oil (the biscuits will be very delicate and can squish easily). Rotate the pan and return to the oven for another 12-15 minutes, until tops are very deep golden brown–do not underbake! Remove from oven and cool on cookie sheet, then carefully remove for storage. Makes 6 biscuits. May be frozen.
NOTE: if you try to eat these while they are still warm, the centers may seem too moist. Once they cool, however, the texture changes.
Nectarine Shortcake Variation:
1 batch biscuits (or you can use your own favorite biscuits for this)
Cut cooled biscuits in half horizontally. Cover the bottom half with some nectarine slices and a dollop of cream. Top with the other half of the biscuit and more cream. Savor. Makes 6 servings.
Well, it appears that summer has finally arrived in Toronto (gee, only two months late!). Under normal circumstances, July and August herald brilliantly sunny days with lush green lawns, a profusion of garden flowers and lazy swishing leaves on tree branches overhanging our suburban streets. The temperatures hover around 30-32C (86-90F), more like 40C (104F) with the Humidex reading (what the temperature actually feels like when you factor in the humidity). Unlike the very unusual circumstances we’ve endured thus far: frigid temperatures and rain, rain, rain.
Since the forecast predicts sun for the rest of the week and weekend, there are many happy Torontonians heading to work today (or, more likely, calling in sick to work today). What does the return to summer mean to me? First off, the four plants I attempted to grow this year (planted back in May) will finally begin to yield some bounty (I noticed a nascent green pepper yesterday evening–whoo hoo!); also, I’ll need to start bringing bottles of water with me on my walks with the dogs (for The Girls, not for me); in addition, my skin will begin to turn the same understated shade of beige as untreated newsprint, implying that I am, indeed, not as anemic as my usual printer-paper white hue would suggest; and, lastly, the only foods I’ll want to eat are those that don’t require cooking. Basically, more than anything else, summer means trying to keep cool.
When I think back to my childhood, my friends and I possessed a huge arsenal of methods to stave off the heat in summer. To wit, running through the sprinkler while wearing our bathing suits. Or walking in the rain in our bathing suits, then rubbing mud all over ourselves and running through the sprinkler to wash it off. Having water pistol fights in our bathing suits, collapsing in a giddy heap on the now-wet (and cool) lawn. Heading down to my parents’ basement, then sneaking into the cedar closet to hold a cool “private clubhouse meeting” in our bathing suits.
These days, I am loathe to do pretty much anything in my bathing suit (who am I kidding? I don’t even own a bathing suit!). Consequently, I’ve had to find other means of cooling down. Sure, I can run through the sprinkler wearing my T-shirt and shorts, but that isn’t nearly as much fun. Instead, I seek out summer foods that will do the job.
Often, all I want for dinner is a fresh leafy salad or sliced tomato or crisp granny smith apple (now that the latter have finally made their return on my menus) and be done with it. Not so the HH. So, the other evening after a later-than-usual walk with The Girls, the HH and I returned home to utter the eternal DDD question: what should we have for dinner? (Unlike so many of my bloggy peers, I am not gifted with the ability to plan my week’s menus in advance; besides, my tastes are so capricious that I’d probably change my mind on the designated day and decide I wanted something else entirely).
Most evenings, we pull open the refrigerator door and stand immobile, peering up and across each shelf as we scan the contents for a sign: which of the melee of fruits and veggies do we feel like consuming at that moment? (Sometimes this procedure takes far too long and really is not very eco-friendly, what with that door open the whole time. So then I feel even more guilty about not pre-planning my menus. On the other hand, it diminishes the need for air conditioning).
For some reason, lately, I’ve been on a cucumber kick. I’d never been enamored of cucumbers as a kid (or even a young woman), but recently, I seem to crave cucumbers. I can’t get enough cucumber. I love me some cucumber! (Okay, I’m exaggerating a tad. While that last sentence is, in fact, true, I’ve also been fixated for a time on the wild, wacky and perverse search terms that people use to find this blog. That last line was just really just my way of provoking the searches. Being provocative with a cucumber, if you will. Ooops, there I go again.)
In any case, we found a lovely, firm, English cucumber (yikes, can’t seem to help myself) in the fridge, and I pondered how I could use it besides on its own as a snack. Then I remembered all the bookmarked recipes I’d set aside in Nava Atlas’s fabulous Vegan Soups and Hearty Stews for All Seasons, which I wrote about shortly after receiving the book last winter. At the time, cold cucumber soup was a distant memory–but now it’s finally summer! I knew the soup would be perfect.
We whipped up a batch of Cool as a Cucumber Soup in no time, and devoured almost the entire contents in one sitting (the recipe actually serves 4-6 people, but we loved it that much). I also had the leftovers the next day for lunch and can vouch that it doesn’t suffer from its overnight sojourn in the fridge. In fact, I’d say the herbs made their presence known just a bit more the second day, and all the flavors had a chance to meld.
The soup is thick and rich with shreds of bouncy and refreshing cucumber throughout. The combination of three fresh herbs provides a lovely counterpoint with their aromatic flavors and bit of crunch, offset by the slightly pungent scallion slices scattered here and there. Every spoonful provided a little oasis of cool.
I have no doubt that this soup will become a summer staple from now on with its refreshing, cooling effects. Just don’t expect me to wear my bathing suit when I eat it.
[Oh--and some cool news re: Sweet Freedomfor those of you in the Toronto area! I'll be appearing on Toronto's Breakfast Televisionnext Monday, talking about healthy cakes, frostings and toppings, and sampling some of the goodies from the book! Yippee!]
A wonderful way to cool off on a hot summer’s day, this soup comes together very quickly and allows for a lot of leeway with herbs and seasonings.
2 large cucumbers, peeled and seeded [I used an extra-large English cuke]
about 1-1/4 cups (300 ml) vegan sour cream [I used Nava's recipe, or use this one, with a bit less agave nectar]
1/2 cup (120 ml) finely chopped fresh herbs, such as dill, parsley and mint [I used parsley, basil and mint]
1-2 scallions, green parts only, thinly sliced
1-1/2 cups (360 ml) rice or unsweetened soy or almond milk
juice of 1/2 lemon (or more, to taste)
1/2 tsp. ( 2.5 ml) ground cumin, or more to taste
salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
Grate the cucumbers on a coarse grater, either by hand or in a food processor fitted with a grating disk.
Transfer the cucumbers to a serving container. Stir in the sour cream, herbs, scallions and enough rice milk to give the soup a slightly thick consistency. Season with lemon juice, cumin, salt and pepper. Serve at once or refrigerate until well chilled.
Variation: For a heartier version of this soup, add a cup or so of cold, cooked barley.
For a pleasantly peppery flavor, stir in a good handful of chopped watercress leaves.
[Before I delve into today's snack post, I want to send out a heartfelt "thank you" to each and every one of you who responded to my last post. I was bowled over by the outpouring of kindness and support that you folks displayed. And thanks to all of you who shared your own story or struggles with food issues, whether dietary restrictions or your own food addictions. I've said this many times before on the blog, but really, I can't say it enough: you people are remarkable! Thank you, all, for visiting, for reading, for commenting, and for your thoughtful responses and ideas, which all add their own kind of sweetness to my life. Without you all, this would be a very lonely (not to mention unrewarding) endeavor, indeed!]
And now, on to the food! A while back, I promised a post on anti-candida snack foods along with the breakfasts and desserts. (And even though I’m assuming the anti-candida diet will be temporary for me, as it is for almost everyone, it’s amazing how my blog has suddenly morphed into a “candida” blog. Most of the searches that lead people here involve the words, “anti-candida” or “candida diet.” Except, of course, for those that involve the words, “dogs girls sexy” or “dogs girls dessert.” Don’t worry, though–I don’t let the realGirls see any of these–it would be too traumatic for them.).
Over the past few months, I realized that most of my snacks don’t actually require a recipe: baby carrots (in moderation–they are pretty high in natural sugars, after all); grape tomatoes; celery sticks; hummus and any of the previous veggies; roasted chick peas; cucumber rounds; kale chips (and have you seen this recent iteration? They sound great!); or, most recently, fresh berries (yay! fruit–though limited to berries and a few others–has made its triumphant return to my diet!). Although I was never a “potato chips” kind of gal (I think you can be one or the other: salty-snack person or sweet-snack person. I always leaned toward the chocolate bars, cookies, cupcakes, etc. rather than the salty snacks), I have been craving something snacky recently. Something crunchy. Something salty. Something portable that isn’t nuts or seeds.
And so, on a whim a couple of weeks ago, I visited our local health food store in search of snacks. My encounter with the cashier went something like this:
Scene: small, family-owned health food store tucked in a local plaza not far from where Ricki lives. Reminiscent of old-time general stores that you see on reruns like The Andy Griffith Show* or Green Acres.
Ricki [browsing around. She approaches the affable, somewhat retro-looking cashier.] “Say, do you have any snack foods for someone who can’t eat gluten, sweeteners, refined anything, eggs, or dairy?”
(Actually, I never begin sentences with the word, “Say,” but it does make the dialogue sound much more as if I really live in a small, close-knit neighborhood like Mayberry, doesn’t it?).
Young Cashier: “Why, yes, Ma’am, yes, indeed, we do.” (Okay, she didn’t really start with, “Why, yes,” either, and didn’t say “indeed.” Another attempt at 1950s-era verisimilitude. She did, however, actually call me “Ma’am,” which made me feel very authentically 1950s).
Young Cashier: [Leading Ricki to a shelf containing Mary's products.] These are all gluten-free and sugar free, made with whole foods ingredients. You might like to try some of these. The Curry flavor is my favorite.
Ricki: [Speechless. Her mind is reeling]: Wow! You mean there are actually snacks I can eat on this &*%$#! regimen that I don’t have to make myself??Okay! I’ll take ten bags!
(All right. I admit that I didn’t really say THAT, either. But I wanted to. Perhaps realistic dramatic representation is not my forte.)
Well, if you live in California–or anywhere in the US, really–and are either (a) on a gluten-free diet; (b) into healthy foods; (c) the owner of a health food store; or (d) named Mary, you have most likely already heard of or tasted the Mary’s Gone Crackers product called “Sticks and Twigs.” On the other hand, if you live in the Distant Far Northern Canadian Outpost that is Toronto–as I do–the discovery was a revelation. (Do you think perhaps I should stop making tongue-in-cheek comments about how far north, how cold, and how polite it is here in Canada? After all, there are some people out there who might actually think I’m being serious!). These snacks resemble pretzels but are crunchier. They’re a whole foods, no-added-fat snack with little pellets of baked amaranth and quinoa scattered throughout. They come in flavorful choices such as Curry or Chipotle Tomato.
And they are mighty addictive.
Only one problem: at $5.99 per 8-ounce (about 250 g) bag, they really did leave me speechless.
In recent months, I’ve noticed a few bloggers playing a game that involves listing the ingredients in a processed “food” and having readers guess what it is (such as this one on Meghan’s blog). For instance, did you know that “Wheat Flour, Sugar, Dextrose, Vegetable Oil, Glucose Syrup, Milk Whey Powder, Invert Sugar Syrup, Fat Reduced Cocoa Powder, Wheat Starch, Salt, Raising Agent (Sodium Hydrogen Carbonate, Diphosphates), Dried Egg White, Beef Gelatin, Stabiliser (Xanthan Gum), Vanilla Extract, Modified Wheat Starch, Colour (Caramel E150d, Titanium Oxide) and Emulsifier (Soy Lecithin)” is actually a Pop Tart? (Yep. Titanium Oxide–often used in paint, or as a sunscreen--is a bonus ingredient in your breakfast “pastry.” Eat up, everyone!).
Well, I decided to turn that game on its head. I took a food I like, namely the Sticks and Twigs, studied the ingredients, and then attempted to reproduce it at home. The result was better than I could have expected. I daresay, I like my version better than the original!
Mine are surprisingly like Mary’s, but a bit thicker, and–most important–at a fraction of the cost. They are, however, still exceedingly crunchy, so if you’re in need of some elective dental work, don’t eat these until after the filling has been replaced. (Just kidding. But they really do snap, crackle and pop in your mouth).
And, if it turns out they’re not to your taste after all, they make excellent dog biscuits.
With all the healthy whole-grain ingredients in these, I thought they’d make a perfect contribution to Food Renegade’s Fight Back Fridays, showcasing real food. Take a peek, or submit your own healthy recipe!
["Mmmm, nice and crunchy, Mum, just like real sticks and twigs. But what was that you mentioned before about not letting us see something--? You're not hiding other snacks from us, are you?"]
*For those of you young enough that you can’t remember a time before computers: yep, “Ronny Howard”–ie, Opie–is the same person as director Ron Howard. Wasn’t he a cutie when he still had hair?
Crunchy Stalks and Branches Snacks
A perfect take-along snack that’s crunchy and filled with real nutrient value: with amaranth, millet, quinoa and rice, these savory treats contain a fair portion of vitamins, minerals, and protein in each serving.
3 Tbsp (45 ml) amaranth, dry
1/4 cup (60 ml) quinoa, dry
1/4 cup (60 ml) millet, dry
2 cups (480 ml) cooked brown rice (I used brown basmati)
1/4 cup (60 ml) finely ground flax seeds
2 Tbsp (30 ml) finely ground chia seeds
2 tsp (10 ml) mild curry powder
1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) fine sea salt, or more, to taste
2 Tbsp (30 ml) sesame seeds
1/2-1 cup (120-240 ml) water, as needed
In a small bowl, soak the amaranth, quinoa and millet for about 2 hours (up to 6 hours). Drain in a very fine sieve. Remove about 3 Tbsp (45 ml) of the mixture and set aside.
Preheat oven to 325F (160C). Line a large cookie sheet with parchment paper, or spray with nonstick spray.
Place the remaining amaranth, quinoa and millet mixture into the bowl of a strong blender along with the rice, flax, chia, curry powder and salt. Add 1/2 cup (120 ml) water and blend to a paste; stir in the sesame seeds. If the mixture is too thick, add a little more water until you have a mixture the consistency of a soft cookie dough. It should be soft enough to pipe but firm enough to hold its shape if you scoop some out and place it on the cookie sheet.
Scrape the mixture into a bowl and then stir in the 3 Tbsp (45 ml) whole seeds that have been set aside. Using an icing gun or cookie press, press out the mixture in long, thin logs across the cookie sheet (or make into any shapes you like). I used my icing gun without a tip to create logs for this, but you could use any shape you like. If you have neither an icing gun nor cookie press, you can shape the “dough” into disks or logs by hand, or simply spread the mixture into a large rectangle and then bake as crackers.
Bake the snacks in preheated oven for about 30 minutes before checking. Turn them over and continue to bake, another 30-45 minutes, until they are very browned, dry and crisp. (If baking as crackers, remove from oven after 30 minutes and cut into desired cracker shapes; then turn each cracker over individually and continue to bake as above).
Allow to cool before storing. Makes 4-8 snack-size servings, depending on how hungry you are. If sufficiently baked, these will keep for at least 2 weeks at room temperature in a covered container (ours only lasted a few days, but they were clearly sturdy enough for the long term).
It’s now been approximately five months since I began this round of the ACD, and, over this time, I’ve slowly been coming to the realization that, well, it’s not likely to end any time soon.
As I may have mentioned before, the last time I pursued this regimen, it took two years to eradicate the yeastie beasties. Why so long, when for most people, six months is more than adequate? I’m just lucky, I guess. (Either that, or those childhood PB and chocolate milk breakfasts, teenaged May West and coffee-with-Coffee Mate breakfasts, 20s-era birthday cake and oatmeal cookie breakfasts, and 30s-decade Weight Watchers mousse and Diet Pepsi breakfasts really weren’t that healthy, after all. Seriously, I couldn’t have done worse had I walked into a pesticide factory and started downing beakers of random chemicals). When it comes to eating foods that nourish and strengthen my body, it seems I still hadn’t quite learned my lesson.
While I was able, eventually, to reintroduce gluten and sweeteners to my diet last time (and my naturopath assues me that will happen again, even this time), I fear that eventually, as with any addict reintroduced to a source of the addiction, I began to abuse the privilege. When I last went off the diet, rather than enjoy an abundance of fresh-fruit based desserts or an occasional (ie, less often than 5 times a day) sweet indulgence, I went the whole tofu and chowed down on a daily injection of chocolate, chocolate, and chocolate (in fact, I even considered changing the name of this blog to reflect that fact). And while I still dearly love desserts, even healthy ones (heck, I just wrote a whole cookbook devoted to them!), like any addict, I really have no self control when it comes to my trigger foods.
I mean, have you ever heard of an alcoholic who can stop at just one drink? I think Denis Leary’s character, Tommy Gavin, a firefighter who can’t seem to avoid getting sauced, is a prime example of the principle:
Week One: “I’m handling it. It’s just one drink.”
Week Two: “I’m handling it. I’m only having one a night.”
Week Three: “I’m handling it. I only drink when I feel like it, but so what if that’s all day? I can stop any time.”
Week Four: “Muh habble it. Dwnn tuh meh naw drkkeng drurving!” (Please do not adjust your set. Comprehensible dialogue will return once he sleeps off the inevitable hangover).
And so, dear readers, I’ve finally decided to just accept my own shorcomings as well as my current situation (after all, self acceptance is the first part of healing, right?). I’m determined to embrace the ACD, limitations and all. If I have to stay on it for a year, so be it. If I have to stay on it for life, well–I won’t be happy, but I can live with it (and I wasn’t living too well without it, come to think of it). It’s not as if I’m malnourished, or even that I dislike the foods I’m consuming; and I’d never share a recipe on the blog that I didn’t think was appealing to anyone’s taste buds, special diet or not. It’s just that I miss baking. I really, really miss baking. And I miss eating what I bake.
Still, given the choice, I’d rather continue to see my health improve (about 85% there at the moment) and continue to see my weight decrease, than eat chocolate every day. Besides, I’m learning to think of the ACD as just another culinary challenge: it’s time to begin creating delicious gluten-free, maybe even grain-free, stevia-sweetened desserts for a while. Let the kitchen games resume!
As I mused about the situation, I was reminded of two experts whom I admire and respect, albeit from two completely divergent fields.
The first is Geneen Roth, acclaimed author of When Food is Loveand a regular columnist in Good Housekeeping magazine. When the HH and I relaxed up north this past weekend, I brought a slew of magazines to peruse by the pool, and came across Roth’s latest column, entitled, “Reality Bites.” She wrote about how she’d recently been diagnosed with allergies to both milk and chocolate–two of her very favorite foods.
At first, Roth rebelled against the diagnosis, thinking, “I refuse to give up the foods I love.” Eventually, she came round to the reality of the situation, stating, “It’s hard enough to have. . . allergies. But when you can’t stop thinking about how much you hate the fact that you have to spend your time doing what you need to do, you double the difficulty.” Well, I reasoned, I have quite enough difficulties in all the other areas of my life at the moment, thank you very much; I’d hate to convert eating into yet anohter hardship as well.
The second expert I thought about was Jon Kabat Zinn, who penned Wherever You Go, There You Areand Full Catastrophe Living. To Zinn, a champion of, and pioneer in, stress reduction and mindfulness meditation, living in the moment and appreciating the here and now is paramount to a happy life. Again, I couldn’t help but think, “Look at all the other wonderful things in my life right now–a secure job in these crazy economic times; a (rather appealing) roof over my head; a loving HH; long-term, close friendships; and two of the most adorable canine kids I’ve ever encountered (okay, I may be a tad biased on the canine thing).
["What do you mean, 'a tad biased,' Mum? We're crushed."]
The point is, I decided it’s time to focus on the positives in my life rather than the deficiencies. I may even resume the practise of keeping a gratitude journal (in which you enumerate at least 5 good things that occurred each day, every day. Over time, believe it or not, your mood is elevated just by focusing on such things.). It’s much more productive, and healthy, to maintain a focus on what’s good in life instead of the list of foods I have to give up for a while.
Roth said it beautifully when she wrote, “Giving up certain foods doesn’t mean giving up what you want to feel when you eat them. Staying away from sweets doesn’t mean that you need to deprive yourself of sweetness or comfort or joy.”
And so, I will continue to forge ahead with the blog in this new direction and hope all of you who’ve been reading for a while will stick with me, even though my recipes will be geared toward more gluten-free and low sweetener recipes for a time. And to all the new readers who’ve found my blog by searching for anti-candida recipes or allergen free foods, welcome! The gluten and natural sweeteners will return eventually.
But for now, I hope you’ll all join me on this often challenging, necessarily innovative, and naturally sweetened healing path.
“Mum, don’t worry about not eating sweeteners–we do it all the time, and our food still tastes great! Then again, we eat poo.”
[I thought it would be fun to run a little series over here at DDD: I'll profile one one of my favorite foods, or a food that I've recently discovered and enjoyed, over several days. For this fifth edition, I'm focusing on cilantro. The series is presented on an occasional (and entirely arbitrary) basis, before I move on to the next lucky comestible. This is the fifth entry on cilantro.]
The HH and I just returned from an annual sojourn to what used to be our favorite summer retreat, a country resort up in ski country. I say, “used to be” because, like so many other businesses these days, our erstwhile “favorite” has cut services to the bone and, as a result, is no longer the hotel we remember and loved. Those of you on twitter may have seen my lament that the breakfast “buffet” included precisely one food I could eat: roasted potatoes. The rest of the menu (ham, bacon, eggs, french toast, plate of baked goods and bowl of yogurts) was all verboten to me. As I chewed on my (suddenly very bitter) spuds, I wondered, what about celiacs? What about diabetics? There wasn’t exactly a cornucopia of choices for them, either. In addition, the dinner “service” was so deplorable (over 40 minutes to get our appetizers! In a dining room with six patrons!), we decided that next year, we’ll look for a new place to patronize during our annual summer weekend away.
Well, no matter. The weather, at least, was glorious, and hey–the paucity of food actually resulted in two more pounds of weight loss (for those of you who’ve been following such things, the grand total is 32 lost so far. That means I can now get into my “chubby” clothes, leaving behind my “fat” and “edifice-like” wardrobes, while I’m still not quite slim enough for my “I’m-saving-these-even-though-they’re-out-of-style-and-I’m-really-too-old-for-them-because-I-love-them-so-much” clothes). I also realized that the best way to lose weight is when you’re not really trying. (Hmm. Maybe that resort wasn’t so bad after all. All I have to do is suffer there for another week , and I’m pretty sure I’d be at goal.).
The weekend was an explicit reminder (I guess I’d sort of forgotten) that I am, indeed, following a rather restricted diet these days. Funny, even though I altered my diet to eliminate wheat, eggs and dairy about ten years ago (meat was pretty much already gone by then), I hadn’t really thought of my food intake as ”restricted” (after all, I’d still managed to gain 45 pounds eating that way!) until these past few months on the anti-candida diet. In fact, changing my diet initially prompted me to try out many foods I’d shunned until that point.
One prime example is Indian cuisine. I’d never tasted any of my current favorites–an authentic, long-simmering curry, a crispy papadum, a nubby, melting dal, or peppery masala okra–until I was forced to change my diet. Once I tried the first few dishes, I quickly grew enamored of the fragrant spices like sweet cardamom and warming turmeric, and was easily besotted with basmati rice, vibrant vindaloos and creamy kormas. In fact, it was Indian cuisine that catalyzed my conversion from cilantro foe to cilantro lover.
Whenever we stop in at our favorite Indian restaurant nearby, the HH will often order lamb. I have to tell you, if I’m sitting downwind, it can ruin my dinner. Even before I stopped eating meat, I just wasn’t able to tolerate lamb. Something about the smell–that elusive combination of unctuous yet slightly sweet–always managed to make my stomach flutter and my bile rise, even as a child and long before I understood the true source of those glistening cubes on my plate.
Well, lucky for me, most Indian dishes are naturally vegetarian. On the other hand, it only occurred to me recently that I’ve been inadvertently ruling out a whole category of recipes in my collection simply because they feature lamb, glossing right over those when I scan my cookbooks for dinner ideas.
Well, silly me! I mean, where is it written that those dishes must they be made with lamb? Why couldn’t a favorite soy product (or other legume) stand in for the meat, as they’ve often done before with chicken or beef? I must have been blinded by my visions of guileless black eyes, kinky white curls and baby hooves to even consider it. (I know, I’m a bit slow on the uptake sometimes).
One of my favorite sources of protein is tempeh, and it’s one I use far too infrequently. I thought it would offer a great substitute for ground lamb in a curry. After browsing through various cookbooks, I combined some of my favorite flavors to create a warm, mildly spiced, and slightly unconventional main dish. The smooth, creamy sauce is punctuated by occasional bursts of sweet peas, bits of savory tempeh, and juicy tomato. It’s perfect served over some steamed basmati rice.
And the aroma, redolent with Indian spices, is guaranteed to entice you–no matter which side of the table you’re on.
“Mum, we know you don’t want to eat sheep, but if you ever need them rounded up or led into a pen, we’d be happy to help out. (We’re both part Border Collie, you know.)”
“Ground” Tempeh in a Creamy Curry Sauce
Taking inspiration from recipes in several cookbooks as well as what I had on hand, I came up with this satisfying curry. Use crumbled tempeh, or, for more discernible pieces of tempeh, cut into small cubes.
1 pkg tempeh (I used soy tempeh with seaweed)
1/2 cup (120 ml) vegetable broth
2 Tbsp (30 ml) organic coconut oil or extra virgin olive oil
1 large onion, finely diced
2-3 cloves garlic, minced
2 tsp (10 ml) minced fresh ginger
1 small tomato, finely chopped
1 tsp (5 ml) ground cumin
2 bay leaves
2 cardamon pods (or 1/4 tsp/ 1 ml ground cardamom)
1 tsp (5 ml) garam masala
1 tsp (5 ml) ground turmeric
1 tsp (5 ml) ground coriander
1/3 cup (80 ml) smooth natural almond butter
1/4 cup (60 ml) unsweetened almond milk
1 cup (240 ml) frozen peas
1/4 cup (60 ml) fresh cilantro, finely chopped, plus more for garnish
2 Tbsp (30 ml) fresh mint, finely chopped
sea salt, to taste (depending on how salty your veg broth is)
cooked brown basmati rice, to serve
Prepare the tempeh: crumble the tempeh and place in a skillet with the vegetable broth. Heat over medium heat until broth bubbles; lower to a simmer, cover and simmer until the liquid is absorbed, 10-15 minutes.
Remove tempeh from skillet and set aside. Melt the coconut oil in the skillet (no need to wash it first) over medium heat and add the onion, garlic and ginger. Sauté until the garlic and ginger begin to brown and the onion is translucent, 5-10 minutes.
Add the tomato, cumin, bay leaves, cardamom, garam masala, turmeric and coriander and cook an additional minute. Lower heat and add the almond milk, almond butter and peas, stirring to melt the almond butter. Gently stir in the tempeh. Cover and simmer for another 5-10 minutes, stirring frequently to prevent scorching, until flavors have melded and the curry is heated throughout. Add the cilantro and mint and heat for another 2 minutes. Serve over hot rice. Makes 4 servings. May be frozen.
[Grain-free biscuits as a base for Nectarine Shortcakes. . . ACD-friendly!]
