Just like Anna Karenina’s unhappy families, everyone deals with illness in her or his own way.
The HH, for instance, when struck with a cold or flu, takes to his (ie, our) bed for two days or so. He doesn’t talk; he doesn’t watch TV; he doesn’t eat; he barely uses the bathroom. Then, after the magical 48-hour interval, he emerges from the room like someone who’s just attended a premiere screening of Star Wars: still a little dazed, eyes not quite yet adjusted to the light, but somehow energized and ready to get back into the regular world.
I, on the other hand, rarely if ever spend time in bed during the day (no, no, I didn’t mean it that way, silly! I’m talking about when I’m sick). Instead, I stumble about and manage to function at sub-optimal levels for as many days as it takes to recover. . . usually the better part of two weeks. Then, one day, I realize that the symptoms are gone–no more pile of soggy tissues beside the bed, no more abandoned cups of tea all over the house, no more tickle at the back of the throat, no more raw, throbbing red proboscis.
Similarly, I think that people who recuperate from illness crave unique foods as well.
When I was 16, I caught chicken pox from the CFO. (Believe me, chicken pox is intended as a childhood disease for a reason; what is usually mild and short-term discomfort for a ten year-old can progress to a full blown health crisis for a teen or adult). Besides the initial alarm and teenaged angst I felt during the first two days (when I assumed those little pustules were zits rather than pox), I also became incredibly enervated and developed a high (104F or 40C) fever before an insanity-inducing itch enveloped my entire body for about ten days. I recall spending hours hunched in the bathtub, attempting to submerge myself (face included) under the lukewarm water into which was dumped an entire box of baking soda. If it hadn’t been a drowning risk, I probably would have slept in that tub.
When I finally began to regain some strength, my mom asked what I wanted to eat.
“I think I’d like some. . . cottage cheese and canned pears.”
Cottage cheese? And canned pears?? Neither of these was a favored food; I almost never ate canned anything. Still, my body must have known what it needed. Perhaps there was sodium in the pears to replenish what I’d lost in bodily fluids by sweating so much. Or maybe my adolescent self still required some protein and calcium. Whatever the reason, it did the trick, and I began to get better.
This past week, as I finally emerged from the quagmire of a heinous virus (not swine flu, according to my doctor), I began to yearn for real food, something other than tea, or broth, or a healing smoothie.
“Ess goo suh-er” I said to the HH. (I lost my voice after the first few days, and it still hasn’t quite come back, unfortunately.)
“Huh?” the HH replied.
“Let’s cook supper,” I whispered. “How about lentil rissoles?”
“Huh?” the HH replied. (Oh, he had heard me this time; but he had no idea what a “rissole” was).
Like so many food bloggers, my favorite reading material when I have a few minutes of downtime is a good cookbook. In general, I flip through any new recipe book as soon as I get it home, marking favored recipes with tabs made from torn Post-It notes. Some books end up with just a few tabs, lonely markers like flags left behind on the surface of the moon, while others are graced with tabs on almost every page, leaving a fringe of sticky notes across the book’s edge.
This recipe for lentil rissoles is one I picked out over a year ago, when I first flipped through Homestyle Vegetarian, a great find at a bookstore remainder bin. Basically, a rissole is a patty or burger that’s been coated in breadcrumbs and deep fried. I decided to nix the coating/frying and cook these up as a simple yet flavorful burger. Besides being delicious, these lovelies boast a full 24 grams of protein per serving (2 rissoles).
In about 30 minutes (by then I was too hungry to refrigerate them as directed before cooking–but I think it would have helped), we had a satisfying meal of rissoles and a simple green salad on the table. The end result was slightly disappointing in texture (probably my fault for not refrigerating them first), with a soft and moist interior much like refried beans. As a result, the patties tended to break up as I transferred them from pan to plate. (I’m guessing that a Tbsp/15 ml finely ground flax added to the raw mixture would help considerably, or substituting a glutenous rather than gluten-free bread for the crumbs). But the taste was outstanding.
Not at all spicy, with just a whisper of cumin, the burgers were toothsome and even meaty. While my habitual method with burgers is to blend everything to a homogenous smoothness, in this case I followed the original recipe and made patties with distinct chunks of carrot and whole peas, which provided bursts of slightly sweet, intense flavor in each bite. Beauty!
The HH proclaimed these a huge success and happily ate two. We had ours plain, but because of their mild flavor, I bet these would be stellar with a chutney or even a few slices of avocado and a dollop of salsa. Still, that’s just how I’d eat them. I imagine everyone else will deal with the burger in her or his own way, of course.
These patties are perfect for an everyday dinner, and would be wonderful jazzed up with an array of toppings and served in a toasted bun.
1 Tbsp (15 ml) extra virgin olive oil
1 large onion, finely chopped
2 large cloves garlic, finely chopped
2 tsp (10 ml) ground cumin
1 tsp (5 ml) ground coriander
2 cups (480 ml) vegetable broth or stock
1 medium carrot, finely diced
1 cup (250 g) red lentils, picked over and washed
1-1/2 cups (120 g) fresh whole grain breadcrumbs (I used millet-quinoa bread, but I think a spelt or whole wheat would actually work better here)
2/3 cup (60 g) walnuts, finely chopped (I ground mine in the food processor)
1/2 cup (90 g) frozen peas
3 Tbsp (45 ml) chopped flat leaf parsley or cilantro
Heat the oil in a large pot or dutch oven. Cook the onion, garlic, cumin and coriander over medium heat for 2 minutes, or until the onion has softened. Stir in the carrot, lentils and broth. Slowly bring to the boil, then reduce the heat to low and simmer, covered, for about 30 minutes, or until the lentils are cooked and pulpy, stirring frequently to stop them from sticking and scorching. Remove the lid during the last 10 minutes to evaporate any remaining liquid. The mixture should be fairly mushy and there should be no liquid visible on the bottom of the pot after you run a spatula across it.
Transfer the mixture to a large bowl and cool for 10 minutes. Stir in the breadcrumbs, walnuts, peas, and parsley. Form into eight 3-1/2 inch (8 cm) round rissoles. Cover and refrigerate for 30 minutes, or until they are firm (this is the step I skipped–I would advise doing it).
Spray a nonstick frypan with olive oil spray and heat over medium heat. Cook the rissoles about 4 minutes on each side, until the outsides are browned and crispy and they are heated through. Makes 8 rissoles. May be frozen.
* Or, Oddly Alluring Blend of Mudlike Green Vegetables to Clear Your Sinuses
[Don't you expect a giant, hairy, muddy hand to suddenly lurch from under the surface of that liquid, and grab you?]
I’ve enjoyed green smoothies for several years now, and they’ve always been a staple when I need a quick and nutrient-rich breakfast. Until recently, however, I’ve always added blueberries to a green smoothie as a way to “mask” the color and create a more palatable palette. Well, not this time!
Remember in grade school when you played with water colors and, in an attempt to discover a new shade of say, red, you combined orange and yellow AND blue? And what you were left with was a cloudy, miry composite that resembled the distinctive grayish-brown of, maybe, a mud puddle, or perhaps a wet greyhound, or sort of like a cup of stale coffee, or–most likely–a stretch of swampland?
Today’s smoothie isn’t quite that bad. . . only mildly resembling fungus in color. To me, the shade of this smoothie evokes moss and green olives and slightly overcooked asparagus. . . green, yes, but tempered with a hint of gray.
Still, desperate times required desperate measures. Stricken with a nasty bug over the past few days (which, from what I’ve been reading, is making the rounds through the foodie blog world), I decided I needed to pull out the big guns–or, in this case, the big cucumbers–and create a smoothie that would soothe, nourish, and fight viruses and bacteria, all in one green, velvety solution. A Superhero Smoothie!
Well, maybe more like a monster smoothie. Still, who knows why certain monsters are appealing–enticing, even? I mean, Fay Wray’s Ann Darrow fell in love with King Kong, right? Beauty was bowled over by The Beast. And why would the Princess kiss a frog in the first place? Like this smoothie, they all had a certain je ne sais quoi that drew people to them. Or maybe it’s just my febrile imagination talking. Either way, the smoothie seemed to do the trick: it got me through the morning feeling a little less congested and a little more energetic. And, for some reason, the more I drank, the more I liked it.
[Attack of the swamp thing! All that's left are the smoothie remains. . . "]
One caveat: if you’re a fan of fruity or slightly sweet breakfast smoothies, this one is definitely not for you. It’s quite tart, with a texture more like a vegetable cocktail than a milkshake. Think of it as a refreshing veggie juice and you’re more likely in line with this beverage.
I based the recipe on similar ones posted here, but this is my own concoction. Feel free to play with proportions and ingredients to your own taste.
Swamp Thing Smoothie
Look! It can actually seem vaguely attractive in this light! This smoothie is great when you’re feeling fatigued or when your body needs an immune boost. The vegetables are alkalizing, the herbs detoxify, the juice adds Vitamin C and the garlic fights illness-causing organisms like viruses and bacteria.
3-4 large leaves lettuce (your choice; I used green leafy)
1 stalk celery, trimmed, cleaned and chopped
1 small clove garlic (or 1/2 a large clove), optional
1/4 cup (60 ml) cilantro or parsley, or a combination
2 leaves fresh basil
6″ (15 cm) piece cucumber (leave skin on if organic)
juice of 1/2 lime
1/3 cup (80 ml) unsweetened cranberry juice
1/2 avocado, peeled and cut in chunks
about 1/2 cup (120 ml) water
1 tsp (5 ml) agave, if desired, or 2 drops stevia
Place all ingredients in a high-speed blender and blend until very smooth. Pour into a glass and enjoy immediately. Makes 1 large or 2 small servings.
Most of us are familiar with George Bernard Shaw’s dictum, “Youth is wasted on the young.” Well, of course I realized that saying was just a bunch of bunk. . . until I hit 40, that is. At that point, I realized, “Oh, woe, why did I waste my youth on being young??”
There’s no denying we live in a youth-obsessed culture, one in which the elderly are given little if any respect or recognition (though I bet that will all change once Baby Boomers reach their 70s and 80s. . . they do tend to take over everything, don’t they?).
It’s a truism to say that when a woman reaches her 40s (unless she’s a Cougar like Courtney Cox-Arquette), she becomes more or less invisible to the opposite sex. (Seriously. I’ve walked across the street from a bevy of construction workers in shorts and a T-shirt, with nary a glance. The Girls got more flirting than I did!). And why do we stuff the elderly into homes with only each other, like a clothing store full of only black socks–and no other varieties? (When I was last in Montreal, The CFO and I visited a retirement residence into which my dad is considering moving. While the place was modern, clean and provided roomy apartments, good food, and weekly entertainment, his first comment upon leaving the building was, “It’s okay. . . but they’re all so old.” This from a guy who’s 88! Truly, if I inherit even half of my dad’s health and longevity genes, I’ll be a lucky woman, indeed.)
I suppose it’s inevitable that “old” becomes synonymous with “useless” in a culture that builds obsolescence into most inventions. Last week I heard a radio interview by Jian Ghomeshi of CBC’s Q (Jian, you know that I have a massive crush on you, the likes of which I haven’t seen since I was fourteen, right? And that I’m dying to be interviewed on your show, right? I’d be a terrific guest, really. I’ll even bake brownies.).
Jian interviewd Anna Jane Grossman, author of Obsolete: An Encyclopedia of Once-Common Things Passing Us By. Her focus (and she’s barely reached the tail end of her twenties) was items that have already become outdated within our lifetimes. Think eight-track tapes (and, bringing up a close second, video casettes); think cursive writing (and the poor profs who have to mark hand-written exams they can’t decipher); think corner phone booths (sorry, Superman, you’ll just have to stay on Krypton, because over here, you’re out of a change room); think Mix Tapes (and the recurring pleasure you experience from seeing a friend’s handwriting on the song list–well, if you can decipher it); and, perhaps most alarming, think “looking old” (how about Melanie Griffith, Madonna, Mary Tyler Moore or Mickey Rourke? They may not look old, but they don’t exactly look human, either). In our culture, many inventions are superannuated even before some of us can learn to use them (yes, I admit, I still don’t text message).
Well, the recipe for this kugel (really a savory bread pudding) is old. Really old. And, frankly, I still adore it. It was my mom’s recipe, which she got from her mom, who got it from her mom. . . and so on.
This kugel doesn’t include any modern ingredients or preparation methods. You won’t find wasabi paste, matcha green tea powder, or pink sea salt in this baby. You won’t need a hand blender, food processor, or VitaMix to make it. It’s entirely an old-fashioned recipe.
Given my ancestors’ humble Russian beginnings, the ingredients are more reflective of what one might find in a cold-climate farm at the outset of autumn: root vegetables, bread, eggs (which I’ve omitted, of course). And yet, even without flashy ingredients, even without any spiciness or too many seasonings (except fresh dill), this kugel is delicious and remains a long-standing favorite in my home.
The pudding is moist and flavorful, firm in the middle, with low-key flecks of grated carrot, chopped celery and yellow onion. The exterior browns up to a crisp, bronzed crust (in fact, my sisters and I used to wait until Mom placed the platter of kugel on the table, hefty slices piled high, then all pounce at once to be the first to grab a corner piece, as those attained the greatest crust-to-filling ratio after baking).
The dish is quick, easy, and comforting. Great for a holiday (such as the just-passed Rosh Hashanah or the upcoming Thanksgiving) or simply a quiet meal at home. And unlike some other aspect of modern life, the final result will never go out of style.
“Mum, don’t feel bad about that lack of whistles now that you’re. . . um. . . older. I’m sure that if you walked around sans clothing like Elsie and I do, you’d get lots of attention, too.”
My Mother’s Vegetable Bread Kugel
A versatile dish that serves as a wonderful side dish, or can be wrapped and toted along for lunch the next day, eaten at room temperature.
3 Tbsp (45 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
2 large carrots, grated
2 stalks celery, diced
1 large onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 cups (480 ml) vegetable broth or stock, divided
1/3-1/2 cup (80-120 ml, to your taste) fresh dill, chopped
6-8 slices heavy, dense bread of choice, preferably a bit stale (I used a quinoa/millet loaf)
1 pkg (12 ounces or 375 g) Mori-Nu firm or extra firm silken tofu (or use regular silken tofu and decrease the broth by about 1/2 cup or 120 ml)
1/4 cup (60 ml) lightly toasted cashews, or cashew butter
2 Tbsp (30 ml) finely ground flax seeds
Pepper, to taste (add more salt if the broth wasn’t salty enough)
Preheat oven to 350F (180C). Line an 8 x 8″ (20 cm) square pan with parchment, or spray with nonstick spray.
In a large, heavy frypan, heat the oil over medium heat. Add the carrots, celery and onion and sauté until onion is translucent, 7-10 minutes. Add the garlic and cook another minute. Add 1 cup (240 ml) broth and the dill; cover and cook over low heat, stirring occasionally, until all the liquid is absorbed and the vegetables have taken on a golden sheen.
Meanwhile, either cut the bread into cubes or crumble in to a large bowl. Set aside.
In the bowl of a food processor, process the tofu, cashews, flax and remaining 1 cup (240 ml) broth, until very smooth and no traces of nuts are visible.
Turn the tofu mixture, along with the cooked vegetable mixture, into the bowl and stir until everything is well combined and all the bread is coated with the mixture. Smooth the top.
Bake in preheated oven for 30-45 minutes, turning once about halfway through, until edges are deep brown and crispy, and a tester inserted in the center comes out clean but moist. Allow to cool for 10-15 minutes before cutting into squares. Makes 9-12 servings. May be frozen.
Look! It’s Ricki at the Vegetarian Food Fair again!
Nope, I didn’t take a spin in the Time Tunnel. Nope, I don’t have a twin sister who demonstrated a recipe at another Veg Food Fair this weekend. Nope, I haven’t figured out how to implement Einstein’s theory of relativity and traveled back in time. And nope, you did not unwittingly ingest some strange form of hallucinogen, which is now showing its effects in this blog post.
This post is simply a means to re-post last week’s Butterscotch Blondies with Chocolate Chips and Dried Cranberries recipe, which was lost when a *&%$!!! hacker broke into my blog site and hijacked the page for a few days. I contacted my service provider and they cleared it up–minus a couple of entries (and minus all your wonderful comments about the Food Fair–sniff, boo hoo!).
I’ll post another recipe tomorrow, but in the meantime, here are those blondies again. And nope, I didn’t eat them this week, either.
These are a favorite dessert in our house. They are rich-tasting, chewy, and the combination of rice syrup and maple syrup mimics a butterscotch flavor extremely well. Use the suggested cranberries and chocolate chips, or any of the variations, below.
1 cup (140 g) light spelt flour
3/4 cup (90 g) barley flour
1 tsp (5 ml) baking powder
1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) baking soda
1/4 tsp (1 ml) fine sea salt
1/3 cup (80 ml) brown rice syrup
1/3 cup (80 ml) pure maple syrup
1/3 cup (80 ml) sunflower or other light-tasting oil, preferably organic
1 Tbsp (15 ml) pure vanilla extract
1/4 tsp (1 ml) rum or butterscotch flavoring (optional)
1/2 cup (100 g) non-dairy chocolate chips
1/3 cup dried tart cherries (45 g) or cranberries (40 g)
Preheat oven to 350F (180C). Line an 8” (20 cm) square pan with parchment paper, or grease well and then flour the pan (flouring is essential, as the blondies tend to stick to the bottom of the pan without the parchment).
In a medium bowl, sift together the spelt flour, barley flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Set aside.
In a large bowl, whisk together the brown rice syrup, maple syrup, oil, vanilla and flavoring (if using) until well blended. Gently stir in the chips and cherries.
Pour the dry mixture over the wet and stir to blend. You will have a fairly thick and sticky batter. Turn the batter into the prepared pan and smooth the top with a rubber spatula.
Bake in preheated oven for 20-25 minutes, rotating pan about halfway through, until a tester inserted in the center comes out just barely clean (a moist crumb or two is fine). Take care not to overbake, or these will dry out! The batter will fall a little as it cools; this is as it should be. Allow to cool completely in pan before cutting into squares. Makes 16 squares. May be frozen.
Variations: use 1/3 cup each pistachios (or nut of choice) and dried cranberries, or replace the cranberries with raisins and add about 2 tsp (10 ml) freshly grated orange zest.
Yes, I’ve been gone for quite some time. . . but sorry to say, my blog absence wasn’t voluntary. In fact, it had nothing to do with me at all.
Some of you may have noticed that my regular blog page disappeared for a few days. Sadly, someone hacked into my blog and “hijacked” it. Seriously, who does that? And to a food blog??
The nice people at my web company have reinstalled the old blog from their backed up files, but since they’re about a week behind, I’ve lost a couple of entries. I promise to try to reconstruct them–and will re-post that blondie recipe asap!
In the meantime, hope you all had a great weekend and a lovely Rosh Hashanah to those who celebrated (and sorry you missed my kugel recipe–to follow).
“Whoah, Mum, that’s pretty messed up! Don’t people have better things to do? Like play Frisbee with us, for instance?”
[Thanks to everyone who entered the Simply Bar giveaway! I apologize for never learning how to capture and post the Random.org page with the winning number, but I promise you it was number 46--which translates to Eve of A Tale of Two Vegans! Congrats, Eve! Please email me with your mailing address so we can get your bars out to you asap!]
Well, you know what they say. . . the best laid plans sometimes go AWOL (or something like that). In my case, plans for the Labor Day weekend–well, Sunday, actually–were waylaid by an impromptu visit. . . to the emergency room.
No, not for me. The HH, however, is still recovering (and he’ll be fine, thankfully). We had planned to have our friends Nutritionista and her hubby over for appetizers and drinks in the evening, so the HH was conscientiously outside in the early afternoon (I was prepping for back to school), pulling weeds and mowing the lawn. About midway through the task, he walked slowly into the house and stood, immobile, in the hallway.
“Are you done already?” I asked. (The HH hates lawn work and I figured he’d done a haphazard job just to get it over with.)
“Um, no,” he replied. “But I think maybe we need to go to the hospital.”
Not exactly the words you want to hear emanating from your honey’s lips as you’re peeling potatoes.
While pushing the (non-electric) mower, he’d been arrested by a sudden shower of brownish “floaters” (cloudy specs, strands or cobweb-like images that float across the field of vision, originating from within the eye). He said it looked as if someone had poured balsamic vinegar over oil, or splattered mud all over a windshield–and he couldn’t see clearly through the mess.
And so, emergency room it was.
I mean, really–the lengths that HH will go to, just to get out of doing his chores!
Most floaters are a normal outcome of cells in the vitreous layer (the jelly-like fluid inside the eye) drying out and separating from the vitreous as people get older. Normally, they are no more than a mild nuisance, most visible when you look at light backgrounds such as white paper or a clear blue sky. As someone who’s nearsighted, I have floaters undulating across my field of vision on a regular basis–but mine are fairly inobtrusive, mostly resembling tiny jelllyfish-like creatures that swoosh and sway benignly. (To see a cool example of what floaters look like, check this page–scroll down to the blue box on the bottom right hand side.)
After five hours in emerg, the HH was finally examined by a doctor, only to be told that they didn’t have an opthalmologist on call at that particular hospital. With so few opthalmologists to go around, they rotated their on-call sites each weekend (Americans, are you sure you want Canadian-style health care? Really??). So off we drove to the second hospital, 20 minutes away. There, we were met by a young doctor whom we’d obviously wrenched from a family Labor Day event, still in his polo T and stonewashed jeans. He led the HH to an examining room in an otherwise deserted part of the hospital (the place was already closed for the weekend), then into an anteroom for laser surgery, to repair two large tears in the HH’s retina. The brown floaters were signs of bleeding behind the eye!
It’s times like those that I wonder, what did we do before modern technology? Within 15 minutes, the rips had been repaired, the bleeding stopped, and the HH released with a bottle of anti-inflammatory eye drops and no exterior signs of trauma . While there is always a chance that the tear will progress to a detached retina (a big-deal emergency in which major surgery would be invoked), the kind doc reassured us that things looked pretty good in the HH’s vitreous, and set up a follow up appointment this week. Whew!
Needless to say, our friends didn’t come over that evening. I had, however, planned to serve some really ingenious appetizers. I thought I’d serve them to all of you instead–well, virtually, anyway.
You may recall my love affair with cashew goat cheese a while back.** I’ve been eating the stuff every which way you can imagine, including spread on raw collard leaves for wraps, on plain coconut flour biscuits for breakfast, in blobs on salads, and straight from the container. Another favorite is in jalapeno poppers.
My poppers are an ACD-friendly version of a bar snack I shared with a friend years ago in a pub in Welland. The originals involved cream cheese filling, a breaded coating and some heavy duty deep frying. This version is much more civilized, simply roasted jalapenos filled with a hefty spoonful of ”goat cheese”–no recipe required!
I must warn you, however, that if you don’t have asbestos lips as I do (these were far too hot for the HH’s palate–after a tiny taste, he threw the pepper back on the plate, spat out the morsel that had made it inside his mouth, and drank half a beer in one gulp), you might want to try these with Cubanelles, poblanos or another slightly milder, yet still relatively small, pepper. Part of the appeal of poppers, I think, is that they can be consumed in two or three bites.
The other appetizer I’d planned to serve was a twist on bruschetta, made with thick rounds of roasted potato instead of the bread. I topped these with homemade pesto using basil from our garden, chopped tomatoes (also from the garden, thereby depleting our entire harvest of FOUR tomatoes this year), a drizzle of olive oil and a few more shreds of basil. The final result was a little miracle of synergy.
With a slightly crisp exterior and creamy, still warm interior, the potatoes offered a perfect base for the bruschetta. Each bite presented a medley of temperatures and textures, the firm rounds highlighted with smooth, fragrant pesto and slurpy, ripe tomato. The HH and I actually consumed the entire batch (about 15 pieces) in one sitting as our late-night dinner, before toppling into bed.
To those of you who read about the HH’s ordeal on twitter or Facebook, thanks for all the good wishes. His eyes will be fine–though, after that bite of Jalapeno Popper, I think his lips may need a little more recovery time.
AND IF YOU’RE IN THE TORONTO AREA. . . Please drop by and see me at the annual Vegetarian Food Fair at Harbourfront on Saturday, September 12 and Sunday, September 13! I’ll be demonstrating recipes fromSweet Freedom and handing out samples of both–Maple Walnut Cookies (Saturday) and Butterscotch Blondies (Sunday). Come on over and say “hi”!
Try this simple appetizer next time you’re entertaining guests. The potatoes hold up remarkably well, and won’t absorb the moisture from the topping the way toast rounds would.
3-4 large round (rather than oval) potatoes, washed and cut into disks about 1/2″ (1 cm) thick
2 Tbsp (30 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
fine sea salt, to taste
basil-pine nut pesto, as desired (I used about 3/4 cup or 180 ml)–you can use homemade or store bought
2-3 large ripe tomatoes, diced
more extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic, for drizzling
2-3 leaves fresh basil, thinly sliced
Preheat oven to 400F (200C). Line 2 cookie sheets with parchment paper, or spray with nonstick cooking spray.
Put potatoes in a large bowl and sprinkle with the olive oil and sea salt to taste. Toss with your (clean) hands until potatoes are evenly coated. Place the rounds on the cookie sheet and roast in the preheated oven for 30-45 minutes, until tender and beginning to brown on the edges. It’s nice if you can turn the disks over about halfway through, but not essential.
Once the potatoes are cooked, remove them from the oven and allow to cool for 3-5 minutes until they are cool enough to handle, but still warm. Top each disk with 1-2 tsp (5-10 ml) of pesto, a good mound of tomato, a slice or two of basil, and a thin drizzle of olive oil. Serve while still warm or at room temperature. These are best eaten the day they’re made. Makes 15-18 appetizers.
** By now, I’ve made this goat cheese recipe so many times that I’ve worked out my own shortcut without compromising the texture or flavor. If I don’t have time for overnight soaking, I find that 6 hours will do. The original recipe also asks you to drain the mixture through cheesecloth for 12 hours. I’ve found that my cheese never releases any more liquid this way, so I simply mix up my cheese and bake it straightaway. I know it’s supposed to “age” during the overnight draining, but I’ve never noticed a difference in taste or texture when I took that extra step. The end result doesn’t seem to be harmed in any way by the alterations.
I know it’s the Labor Day weekend and we’re all trying our darndest to get in the last coveted rays of summer before the new school season starts on Tuesday. . .
But it’s your last chance to enter the Simply Bar giveaway and win a whole box of bars for those school-day snacks or afternoon energy boosts! For more details and to enter, go here.
“Mum, I hate back-to-school. . . first of all, I can’t even enter the giveaway. And second, it means you’ll be going to school during the day, too. Maybe if I just lie on your backpack, you won’t be able to leave the house. . . “
[With baked beets and avocado over mesclun greens]
For those of you who’ve decided, as I have, to really appreciate the home front this Labor Day weekend (read: can’t afford to go away), hope you’re enjoying some wonderful weather! If you’re in the Toronto area, drop by to see me and say “hi” at Ambrosia Natural Foods, any time between noon and 4:00 PM. I’ll be offering books and samples of baked goods from Sweet Freedom. And don’t forget that you’ve got only two more days to enter the Simply Bar giveaway! Just click here for details.
Speaking of weather, guess what? It’s summer again! Yep, after a sodden, gloomy June, July and August (okay, maybe there was one day of sunshine), this past week has awarded us with brilliantly sapphire skies and lovely, mellow heat–and Mother Nature’s surprise gift is expected to keep on giving through the weekend.
Am I fixated on the weather? Well, I’m Canadian, aren’t I?
Apart from our legendary politeness and steadystream of Canadianexpat comediansnowin the US, Canadians are also known worldwide for their perverse preoccupation with the weather. No matter the season, no matter the temperature, no matter the individuals, talk of the climate seems to infiltrate any and all conversations and contexts. To wit:
Scene One. April. Bob and Doug meet on the street.
Bob: Hey, how about those Blue Jays, eh?
Doug: Blue Jays? Are you kidding? It was coming down cats and dogs last night. The game was rained out. Grrr-crappy weather!
Scene Two. December. Sterlin and Ricki meet on the street.
Sterlin: Hi, Ric! Merry Christmas! Hope you and the HH got some great gifts!
Ricki: Gifts? Ha! As if Santa could make it to our house through all that sleet and snow! Crappy weather. *sigh.*
Scene Three. March. Kate and Alex sit on the couch after a romantic interlude.
Alex: Kate, I love you. You are “the one.” You complete me. Will you marry me?
Kate: Marry? Are you kidding? As if anyone could count on a decent Saturday to hold a wedding in June! Crappy weather.
Scene Four. July. Don and Roger meet on the street after lunch.
Don: How was the planning meeting this morning?
Roger: Er, I don’t really know. I noticed it was sunny outside and hightailed it to the park–I mean, it was sunny outside! Can’t afford to waste a single sunny moment in this town. Crappy weather.
You get the idea. And really, Roger has a point. With the last few days in Toronto being bright and balmy, I’ve been spending as much time as possible outdoors–which means very little cooking going on here at the DDD household. But don’t despair–there are always salads and other raw foods!
This dish is one I first noticed on Michelle’s blog some time ago. I think it perfectly straddles the limbo between summer and fall (sort of like wearing darker tights with those light summer skirts to tide you over until you pull out your winter wardrobe). I love beets and had never eaten raw beet greens, so I couldn’t wait to give this a try.
I haven’t always been a lover of the crimson root, however. And the HH is painfully blunt in his assessment that “beets taste like dirt.”
[With beet greens and raw, grated beets. Does this look like dirt to you?]
You see, my mother–an excellent baker, but only passable cook–would save a jar of beet borscht for those evenings when she arrived home from shopping or mah jong and didn’t have enough time to whip up a proper dinner. On those occasions, she’d pop open the lid of the borscht jar she kept in the fridge, pour the chunky liquid into a bowl and swirl in a generous dollop of sour cream. For my dad, a bowl of cold borscht with a thick slice of pumpernickel bread constituted a perfectly acceptable dinner (he’s from Poland; pink soup with shreds of beet floating in it doesn’t seem weird to him). To me, however, the resulting fuscia broth appeared far too reminiscent of Pepto Bismol. Combined with the sweet-and-sour odor of the stuff, it was enough to clamp my throat and cause my stomach to lurch. No wonder I didn’t eat beets again until my 40s.
Even the HH loved this salad; we ate it three times in as many weeks. When I made it for the fourth time a few days ago, the weather contributed its own influence and I decided to try it without baking the beets first, but simply peeling and grating them raw. The result was equally delicious, with the juicy, sweet crunch of the raw root commingling happily with the crisp greens.
We’ve also had this salad with chunks of avocado tossed in at the last minute simply because it was at its peak of ripeness, adding a smooth, subtle richness that balanced well with the sour note of the citrus dressing. On another occasion, the salad worked well using mesclun greens instead of beet greens when the latter weren’t available.
Serve this as the first course at dinner, or use it as a light supper all on its own–then run out and enjoy the last vestiges of summer before it evaporates once again.
Grrr–crappy weather!
“Mum, that was just a joke about Santa not making it to our house, right? I mean, we’ll still get our usual Christmas treats this year, won’t we?”
The combination of sweet beets and crisp, crunchy greens is a winner in this quick and easy salad. Toss in some toasted walnut halves or sprinkle with hemp seeds for a light summer dinner.
2 pounds (about 1 kg) fresh beets with greens (scrub beets and wash greens; discard thick stems)
1/2 cup (120 ml) unpacked fresh mint leaves, rinsed and chopped
juice of 1 small lemon
juice of 1 lime
1 tsp (5 ml) Sucanat or 5 drops stevia liquid
1 Tbsp (15 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
1 Tbsp (15ml) hemp seeds, if desired
salt and pepper to taste
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Line a pan with parchment paper. Bake the beets for about one hour, until fork-tender (you can wrap them in aluminum foil for baking if you like, but I don’t bother). Once cool, peel the beets and dice in chunks. Set aside. Alternately, peel the raw beets and grate on the large holes of a box grater; set aside.
Meanwhile, wash and dry the beet greens. Chop into bite-sized pieces.
Place the greens, beets, and mint in a large bowl. Add the lemon juice, lime juice, Sucanat, olive oil and hemp seeds, if using. Toss well and season with salt and pepper. Makes 4 servings. Will keep, covered, in the refrigerator one day.
