[Dinner Bowl with millet, sesame chard, grated carrot, avocado, grape tomatoes, and almond sauce.]
When I was about four and the Nurse was eight, my parents decided to have our portraits taken. Now, in those days (we’re talking Dark Ages of technology, folks) no one had heard of digital photography, let alone Photoshop; you had to make due with photos as they appeared once developed, sometimes days or weeks after you’d snapped them in the first place.
[Insalata Roma: Mesclun greens with roasted red peppers, toasted walnuts, "goat cheese" and balsamic vinaigrette.]
In those days, the style was to dress up your kids, have them sit still for an hour or so while a photographer (who had arrived at your home hours earlier, toting enormous cameras, lenses, black boxes, velvet throws and a host of other tools of the trade) cajoled your child into staring at the camera long enough so that he could snap fifty or so photographs. Then, he went away and developed the photos, returning a few weeks later with the contact prints so that you could choose the one you wanted.
[Purple Monster I: gluten-free pancakes with blended berry sauce and tofu scramble.]
In order to simulate traditional artists’ portraits, the photographer blew up the black and white print to portrait size, then painted over the original with colored oil paints. These “portraits” were then hung in ornate gold frames, usually in the living room or family room. Most of my parents’ friends had similar portraits hanging in their own homes (with their own kids in the frames, that is). In fact, the image of four year-old me, a Mona Lisa smile on her face and hair teased and flipped like a 50s housewife’s, wearing my favorite dress with the white princess collar and pale blue crinolines, still gazes over my dad’s sofa (with matching portraits of each of my sisters on either side).
[Purple Monster II: Red cabbage slaw with green apples, toasted walnuts and poppyseed dressing.]
Why am I telling you all this, you wonder? Well, occasionally there were kids who simply wouldn’t participate (I recall hours of silly voices, fuzzy bears and sparkly jewelry passing before the CFO’s tear-stained face on the day, years later, of her portait-sitting; after almost four hours, the disheveled photographer finally elicited a semi-smile, which is the shot that was ultimately used). Worse, there were sometimes kids who were more than happy to oblige the photographer, but who, after all the developer was mixed, the paper bathed in the stop bath and the photos hung to dry, simply weren’t meant for such things.
[Gluten free pizza with pesto, zucchini, tomatoes, garlic and red onion.]
Well, sometimes, I cook food that tastes great, but for one reason or another, doesn’t give good blog. You know the meals–either you chomp them up too quickly, and by the time you remember to snap a pic, the meal is half gone; or else you snap and snap, eventually tuning in more to the rumbling in your stomach than the food on the table, and give up before you acquire that one useful photo. In these cases, I usually file the pics away, assuming I won’t be using them.
[Thai-inspired Coconut Curry Tofu Scramble with spinach, carrot, peppers and cashews.]
Still, some of those foods were really tasty. And just because they’re not photogenic, does that mean they should miss out? Heck, no! Just like the legendary blind date “with the great personality” (ah, if only I had a dime for all the times I was described in such a way), these dishes are really wonderful if you give them a chance.
[Tuscan Bean Soup, adapted from this recipe--my version below.]
And so, I thought it might be fun to share some of the more homely–yet still appealing–foods I’ve made in the past few months.
Just don’t try to snap their portraits.
“Mum, you know, we let you snap our portraits all the time. But if you want me to smile, well, how about a little cajoling with treats or a frisbee?”
Tuscan Bean Soup
This is a thick, filling, and comforting soup for cooler months. I used the stems from the chard, but found their flavor a bit overpowering; I’d leave them off next time.
1 pound (450 g) dried white beans (Great Northern, cannellini, or navy), picked over and rinsed
Soak beans in cold water overnight, or at least 8 hours. Discard water, rinse the beans, and set aside.
In a large pot or dutch oven, heat the oil over medium heat. Add the onion, fennel and garlic and sauté until the vegetables are soft, 8-10 minutes. Add the beans, stock, water, bay leaf and pepper and simmer, uncovered, until beans are tender, 45 minutes to an hour.
Stir in the swiss chard and salt to taste and continue to simmer, uncovered, stirring occasionally, until chard is tender, 8 to 10 minutes.
Remove about 2 cups of the soup to a blender and blend until smooth, or use an immersion blender and blend briefly in only one or two spots so that most of the soup remains chunky. Stir the blended soup back into the pot, simmer until heated through, and season to taste. Garnish with nutritional yeast, if desired. Makes 6-8 servings. May be frozen.
What? Another breakfast recipe–and so soon, you say? Well, you can never have too much breakfast is what I say. I mean, breakfast really is the best repast of the trio of meals, isn’t it?
To begin with, if it’s breakfast time, you’re probably rested. Your belly is primed and ready to accept food (after all, you have been fasting all night). You’re most likely clean (après morning shower), your face is still fresh and mascara-free, and you can feel good about giving your body “the most important meal of the day.” And besides all that–breakfast tastes better than just about any meal I can think of.
I’ve always favored breakfast, but I didn’t really develop my true allegiance to the morning meal until my late teens, when my friend Sterlin and I took our first vacation on our own–across the continent, to California. (Were our parents insane, letting two seventeen year-olds travel alone? Naw–no worries there–we were total nerds). Our first stop was LA, where we stayed with my dad’s aunt.
Let’s call her “Great Aunt Yetta.” (Actually, that was her real name, but let’s still call her that anyway). Even back then, more than 30 years ago, Ms. Yetta was already ancient, in her late 80s. Poor Yetta’s husband had died almost twenty years earlier, and she lived alone in their small bungalow near Beverly Boulevard in the city. The place looked as if nothing had been disturbed (or, by the looks of it, cleaned too often) since her husband’s death.
About four-foot-ten in heels, Yetta greeted us at the door with a heavily teased, upswept ‘do reminiscent of Endora in Bewitched (except Yetta’s hair was entirely white), its outer layer shellacked with Aqua Net. Despite her advanced years, she still took pride in her appearance, and in our honor had donned the full regalia: fuscia and lime green flowered cotton housedress belted at the waist in shiny white vinyl; gold and black sandals revealing painted crimson toenails, the toes themselves bent various unnatural directions. On her wrists and neck she wore four or five strings of multi-colored plastic beads, along with sparkly, dangly earrings; her face was slathered with full theater-worthy makeup, the purple eyeshadow thick enough to glaze pottery, a coat of carmine lipstick (which only partially followed the actual outline of her lips) on her mouth.
Yetta spoke in a sqeaky, slightly sing-song voice that brought to mind a Polish Edith Bunker. Had we been a little less starry-eyed from having just landed in California that day, Sterlin and I might have found Yetta somewhat creepy (that came later); instead, we assumed she was merely “eccentric.”
On our first morning in the city, we bounded out of bed at 5:30 AM (with the time change, this was already 9:30 our time) and emerged ravenous from our room.
“Come, dahlink, eat some breakfast,” Yetta said, grabbing me by the forearm. She led us to the dilapitaded dining room, where the table was laid with a few dishes, cups and a teapot. There was nothing recognizable as food, but as we drew closer, we could make out what was on the table. Without a word, Sterlin and I exchanged meaningful glances and began silently to plot our exit.
“No, you must eat some breakfast!” Yetta insisted. “Here, have some cheese.” She presented me with an amorphous blob of something half covered in soft, green fuzz. “Oh, don’t worry, it is still good,you just do like this–” She grabbed a butter knife and began hacking at the outside of the blob.
“Oh, no, really, thank you so much, but we aren’t hungry,” we piped up in unison.
“Okay, so some juice then,” she declared, handing over a jar of Tang that had clearly first entered her cupboard in the Sixties. I unscrewed the rusty lid and cautiously peered inside. The contents was so old that it had fossilized, one solid mass of crystalline orange rock.
Before I could say anything, Yetta grabbed the jar. “Oh, is okay,” she insisted, brandishing the same trusty butter knife, “You just make like this and you pour it out!” With that, she began to chip away at the ossified Tang.
“No, really, we never eat breakfast in the morning–OR drink anything before lunchtime!” we cried, backing out the door, “But thank you so much, anyway! See you later!” Luckily, we found a Farmer’s Market down the street, rife with fresh fruit, pancakes, waffles, and–a thrilling discovery at the time–frozen yogurt! (It didn’t exist yet in Canada in those days).
For the entire two weeks in LA, each morning we went through the ritual of thanking Yetta for her generosity, insisting that we never ate breakfast, and then running over to the market to gorge on every breakfast food (and several non-breakfast foods) we could find.
And so, my fascination with breakfast was established.
On our last evening in LA, we were asked to dinner at Great Uncle Norman’s house (Yetta’s brother), though Yetta was not invited. After the meal as we sat chatting about our visit, we actually began to feel a little sympathy for Yetta.
“Gee, it’s too bad about her husband,” Sterlin mused.
“What do you mean?” asked Great Uncle Norman.
“Well, you know. . . that he died,” Sterlin said.
Great Uncle Norman’s mouth dropped open. I think he may have even lost a few crumbs of his coffee cake. “Died?” he repeated. “Are you kidding me?! He didn’t die! He left her–he couldn’t stand to be in the same house as her for one more minute! He’s remarried and lives in Burbank.”
Maybe she’d fed him the green-cheese-and-Tang breakfast, too; who knows? In any case, my own interactions with breakfast have remained consistently pleasant since that time.
The HH and I enjoyed these sausage patties and biscuits with gravy for brunch last weekend. After celebrating my birthday in a very low-key fashion (stupid flu! stupid virus! stupid germs!), the HH and I decided to aim for a special brunch instead. (I did receive a truly beautiful, totally indulgent and indescribably warm and cozy cashmere scarf as a gift from the HH, however).
With leftover cooked rice in the fridge, as well as some nearly-dried sage left over from the roasted plum and spinach salad I’d made the week before, I developed a vague idea of wanting ”sausages” and so devised this recipe for super-simple and quick savory patties. I baked mine, but they can be pan-fried just as easily. The patties crisp up on the outside (even baked), retaining a moist yet firm interior. The coupling of walnuts and sage here mimics a meaty flavor exceedingly well, I think.
After reading Lindsay’s post a while back about Southern biscuits smothered in gravy, I knew I had to try this pairing out myself! Of course, my choices for both biscuits and gravy are currently limited, but I revised my coconut flour biscuit recipe as a savory round*, and topped it with a slightly altered version of Isa’s brilliant Smoked Almond Gravy (since I can’t eat smoked almonds–the ACD forbids pre-roasted nuts, as they tend to harbor molds–I simply roasted my own natural almonds, then added smoked paprika and some caramelized onions to the mix for an irresistible alternative).
This delicious, thick and chunky gravy, once ladled atop the savory biscuits, transported the dish from merely a ”Jennifer Aniston good” to a stellar, “Meryl Streep good.” They’re that good!
If you’re looking for a fairly quick and easy brunch that will encourage seconds, here it is. Add a green salad, and you’ve got a perfect meal.
The inclusion of Tang is optional.
Since this is a perfect brunch meal, I thought I’d submit this to Meeta’sMonthly Mingle event–this month highlighting brunch!
Easy “Sausage” Patties
These are great to use up leftover cooked rice. I used walnuts, but you could substitute other nuts if you prefer.
2 Tbsp (30 ml) extra virgin olive oil or coconut oil, preferably organic
1 large onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, chopped fine
1-1/4 cups ( g) lightly toasted walnuts
1-1/2 cups (360 ml) cooked brown rice (I used basmati)
1 Tbsp (15 ml) finely ground flax seeds
1/4 cup (60 ml) vegetable broth or water
2 Tbsp (30 ml) chopped fresh parsley
1/4 cup (60 ml) chopped fresh sage (about 10-12 leaves), or use 1 tsp (5 ml) dried sage
1/2 tsp (5 ml) smoked paprika
Preheat oven to 375F (190C). Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper, or spray with nonstick spray.
Heat the oil in a frypan over medium heat and add the onions and garlic. Sauté until the onions are golden, about 10 minutes.
Meanwhile, combine the remaining ingredients in the bowl of a food processor and process until well mixed and almost smooth. Add the cooked onion/garlic mixture and process until combined. The mixture should be moist and sticky, but firm enough to hold a shape.
Using a large ice cream scoop or your hands (be sure to remove the processor blade first!), scoop about 1/3 cup (80 ml) of the mixture at a time and place on the cookie sheet. Flatten the patties to about 1/2 inch (1.25 cm) thick. If desired, spray or brush with a little olive oil (this will help the patties to brown up on the outside). Bake in preheated oven for 35-45 minutes, until crisp and dry on the outside. Patties may also be pan-fried for 5-7 minutes per side. Makes 8 patties. May be frozen.
Thick, smoky, chunky, and creamy–this is everything gravy should be!
1 large onion, chopped
2 large cloves garlic, chopped
1 Tbsp (15 ml) coconut oil or extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
1 cup natural raw almonds, baked at 350F (180C) until toasted, 10-15 minutes, and then cooled
1-1/4 cups (300 ml) water
2 Tbsp (30 ml) soy sauce, Tamari, or Bragg’s
3/4-1 tsp (3.5–5 ml) smoked paprika, as you like
2-4 Tbsp (30-60 ml) brown rice flour (depending on how thick you want it)
fine sea salt, to taste
In a large frypan, heat the oil over medium heat. Add the onion and garlic and sauté until the onion is soft and golden brown, about 10 minutes.
Meanwhile, process the almonds in a food processor until they are the texture of a fine meal (like a coarse cornmeal). Add the cooked onion and garlic and process to blend well. Add remaining ingredients and process until smooth.
Transfer the mixture to a medium pot and cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until the gravy bubbles and thickens. Serve immediately. Store in a covered jar in the refrigerator for up to 3 days. Makes 4-6 servings.
* For savoryCoconut Flour Biscuits: omit stevia and vanilla; use bean flour instead of buckwheat flour; and add 1 Tbsp (15 ml) each of dried tarragon, oregano, and basil.
Last Year at this Time: Date Pasta (and another Sterlin-related story)
Although I consider myself a late bloomer in most areas of my life, there’s one event I experienced long before anyone else in my circle of family and friends: the mid-life crisis. In fact, I got mine over with in my early 20s.
I can remember many hours of beer-addled conversation with my beloved mentor in those days, asking the kinds of questions you’d expect from a jaded middle manager in his late 50s rather than a 20-something Master’s student: What is my true calling? Do I really want to do this for the rest of my life? Why are we even here? What is the sound of one hand clapping? And will I ever achieve thinner thighs?
As it turned out, dunno, no, who knows, nothing, and not likely.
Then, when I discovered holistic nutrition and began teaching it and offering cooking classes, I thought I’d solved the crisis. Until this round of the ACD, that is.
But wait! Before I continue, let me pause to issue a heartfelt “thank you” to all of you who read this blog. Thank you for tagging along on this bumpy anti-candida ride. Thank you for your supportive and helpful comments as I traverse the circuitous path toward better health. And thank you for sticking with me, even though this blog seems to have morphed from “Diet, Dessert and Dogs” to “ACD, Stevia and Dogs”–it really doesn’t quite have the same ring to it, does it? (“Well, Mum, at least we are a consistent presence. We hate to break it to you, but most of them are actually here for us, anyway.“) I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you all.
The more I learn about candidiasis and the more I read about the condition, the more I am coming to accept that I will have to follow this diet for a much longer time than first anticipated–a year, at least, perhaps longer. While most people on the program see results and find relief within 3-6 months, there are a few of us who require longer-term dedication (I’m just lucky that way, I guess).
You see, I am what could be termed a “hard case.” A lifelong chocolate/ sugar addict, I am the gastronomic equivalent of a recidivist criminal, one requiring tough, long-term rehabilitation. A culinary kleptomaniac, a pathological liar in the larder, a cereal killer. Until I am better able to handle my confections, you need to lock up the chocolate and throw away the key.
Which brings me to my current mid-life crisis: Will I ever be able to bake again without worrying about consuming the entire recipe? Will I ever get permanent control of this horrid candida? Will I ever have thinner thighs?
For now, I suppose, it’s a moot point, as I am steadfastly following the diet as long as I still exhibit any symptoms. But it’s clear that my love for baking and desserts hasn’t abated in the least; I still crave sweets, even after all this time; and after baking up a batch of this blueberry oatmeal breakfast pudding, I was tempted to eat the entire thing in one sitting.
This is a luxuriously creamy, rich-tasting pudding, the warm berries inside baked to near-bursting. Not too sweet, it fits perfectly at the breakfast table, and would be wonderful topped with some Coconut Whipped Cream or a splash of maple syrup for dessert. Even the HH, who can eat chocolate and sugar with impunity, thoroughly enjoyed two servings after dinner the other night.
As to the Quest for Control Over Sweets, I suppose I’ll just have to keep working on it and hope that, with time, I can grow indifferent to (or, at least, in control of) sugary foods and resolve this crisis as well. For now, I’ll keep seeking healthier desserts and bake as much as I can within the restrictions of the ACD.
Oh, and keep listening for that sound of one oven mitt, clapping against the rack as it removes a hot pan of Blueberry Oatmeal Breakfast Pudding from the oven.
Baked Blueberry Oatmeal Breakfast Pudding
This dish is the result of my playing with Celine’s amazing Baked Apple Pudding recipe, which I made a couple of times and enjoyed immensely. I decided to take Celine’s suggestion and experiment with variations; because I like a slightly lighter, less dense pudding, I added more milk, subbed hazelnuts and cashews for the walnuts and threw in some blueberries.
1/2 cup (75 g) lightly toasted hazelnuts (filberts), with skin
1/2 cup (75 g) lightly toasted cashews
1/2 cup (60 g) old-fashioned rolled oats (not instant)
3/4 cup (180 ml) unsweetened applesauce
2 tsp (10 ml) pure vanilla extract
2 Tbsp (30 ml) agave nectar or maple syrup; or 10 drops stevia liquid
2 tsp (10 ml) cinnamon
1/8 tsp (.5 ml) fine sea salt
1-1/4 cups (300 ml) unsweetened, plain or vanilla soy or almond milk
1/2 cup (120 ml) fresh or frozen blueberries (do not thaw first if frozen)
Preheat oven to 350F (180C). Grease a 4-6 cup (1-1.5 L) casserole dish.
In the bowl of a high-speed blender*, place the nuts, oats, applesauce, vanilla, agave, cinnamon and salt. Pour the milk over all and blend for about a minute, until perfectly smooth and creamy. Pour mixture into the casserole dish, then gently fold in the blueberries (scatter a few extra blueberries over the top if you like, as they won’t sink).
Bake in preheated oven for 40-50 minutes, rotating the casserole about halfway through, until the edges begin to puff and crack and the top appears dry. Allow to cool somewhat before serving; may be served warm or cold. Makes 4-6 servings. Store, covered, up to 4 days in the refrigerator. May be frozen.
*To make with a regular blender: Pour in the milk first, then add the remaining ingredients (except blueberries). You may need to blend in batches to achieve an equally smooth consistency.
[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).]
I heard an interview the other day on CBC radio (ie, home of the dreamy Jian Ghomeshi, host of Q and object of my major, make-me-squeal-like-a-tween-at-a-Jonas-Brothers-concert, crush) with a woman whose father had Huntington’s Disease. She had decided not to be tested to see if she had inherited the wayward gene because, as she observed, “We’re not meant to know the future” (or something like that).
Would you choose to be privy to your own fate if you could? Well, perhaps where deadly diseases are concerned, I’d say “yes”; but in day-to-day matters, it might make for total paralysis if we knew the outcome of our every move.
Take Vegan MoFo, for instance (from fatal illness to food blogging? How’s that for an original segue?). Ah, yes, I had such good intentions for Vegan MoFo. When I first heard about the event last October, it was too late to participate. I vowed I’d play along this year. But when the time came, I was overwhelmed by ongoing ACD woes and challenges at work; so I decided to sit it out this round as well. “No matter,” I reasoned, “I’ll simply read from the bounty of other vegan blogs (and there sure are enough from which to choose!), and comment instead.”
Or so I thought.
Was that REALLY 224 items in my Google Reader last weekend?? Yep.
And so, apologies to all the wonderful MoFo’ers out there. I’ve opted to read more and comment less. But please know that I am reading and enjoying all the amazing foods, ideas, and photos (so many cute pets, too!) that people are posting. Yay MoFo!
Similarly, when I started this ACD last March (March?!), it never occurred to me I’d still be on the diet this far into the game (perhaps if I’d foreseen the outcome, I would never have started). And while the weight is still moving downward (albeit at a much slower pace) and I do feel better overall, I have not yet reached my objective of “all candida symptoms eradicated,” nor my “goal weight” (still about 7 pounds away–though I may revise the number when I get there).
A major problem for many people following the ACD is the lack of sweeteners except for stevia, an herbal sweetener that doesn’t affect blood sugar levels. Now in Phase II of the program, I’m allowed one fruit per day and a few more grains (welcome, Oh Beloved Oats, back into my life!), but that still leaves me adrift when it comes to desserts.
Don’t get me wrong; stevia is great, and I use it in oatmeal, smoothies, salad dressings, and teas; but it is NOT great for baking.
And I dearly miss baking.
Worse, my few experiments in baking with stevia have resulted in, shall we say, less than fortunate outcomes.
“Mum, they’re fortunate for us! We love those new dog cookies you gave us yesterday!”
On the other hand, there are many other desserts that can be sweetened with stevia. In my earlier post, “Anti-Candida Desserts: What Can You Eat?” I wrote about Raw Key Lime Pie (with a secret ingredient!) and Carob-Coconut Sweeties, soft and creamy dessert tidbits made with carob, almond butter, and coconut. And yet, I felt that something was still missing.
Which brings me. . . FINALLY, to chocolate. (See what I mean about knowing the future? If you’d known I would ramble this long before getting to the recipe, you might have opted out of this blog post.).
If you were reading this blog before I started the ACD, you already know how much I love chocolate. Chocolate is my Romeo. Chocolate is my Mark Antony. Chocolate is my Edward. Sadly, chocolate is also my albatross, my Picture of Dorian Gray, my Great White Whale*, and a major reason why I found myself in this candida dilemma in the first place.
So what’s a gal to eat when she loves chocolate, but can’t indulge? Why, she makes up her own, stevia-sweetened substitute, that’s what!
Today’s recipe is for faux chocolate made with carob. I have tried it with cocoa powder as well, but find that so much stevia is required to sweeten the cocoa that the taste is rather unpleasant. However, if you can use agave, I’d recommend giving that a whirl instead. The recipe itself is so simple it’s outlandish. Equal parts carob powder, silken tofu, and coconut oil. A splash of vanilla, a few drops stevia, pinch of salt. That’s it! And yet the outcome is smooth, creamy, solid, chocolate-hued.
Goodbye, Ghirardelli! There’s a new bar in town. So long, Sunspire! I’m moving on. Bye, bye, Green and Blacks! I have a new love. Faux Chocolate, Mon Amour!
For those on soy-free diets, you can, certainly, omit the tofu. I tried the recipe this way initially and the flavor was fine, but the texture was much denser (in fact, brick-solid) when refrigerated. It also melted quickly at room temperature. I found that the addition of tofu rendered this smooth and creamy, much more like real chocolate (though slightly less dense than the real thing).
Maybe I can’t read the future, but I do know there will be more of this sweet treat in my life from now on.
“Mum, we see faux chocolate in our future, too! After all, carob is totally safe for dogs, you know.”
* Actually, with chocolate in my life, I myself am more like the Great White Whale.
Because these really are a guilt-free and healthy treat, I’ve decided to send this recipe to Yasmeen of Health Nut for her Guilt-Free Snacks Challenge.
ACD-Friendly Faux Chocolate
With a hefty portion of coconut oil in the mix, all you need of this confection is a small square to satisfy your sweet cravings. But don’t feel guilty if you end up having more–organic coconut oil is heart-healthy, and carob contains a good amount of calcium!
4 Tbsp (15 ml x 4) extra firm silken tofu (such as Mori Nu)
1/4 cup (60 ml) organic coconut oil, firm at room temperature*
1/4 cup (30 g) carob powder
2 tsp (10 ml) pure vanilla extract
10-15 drops stevia liquid
pinch fine sea salt
If you have chocolate molds, keep them at the ready. Alternately, stretch a piece of plastic wrap across a dinner plate (to create a smooth, taut surface on the plastic) and set aside (this is what I did).
In a small food processor (I used a Mini Prep), measure out the tofu one tablespoon (15 ml) at a time (it’s true that 4 Tbsp/60 ml is the same as 1/4 cup, but I found that the tofu must be fairly firmly packed, and I achieved a more consistent result by measuring it one spoon at a time). Blend a few seconds to break up the tofu.
Add the coconut oil and blend until the mixture is smooth and creamy. Don’t overblend at this stage; you don’t want the oil to melt!
Add the remaining ingredients and blend until completely smooth and creamy and no tofu is visible. Scrape sides occasionally to incorporate all bits of tofu. The consistency should be like a smooth buttercream frosting (and, in fact, you can use it as such at room temperature).
Either fill the molds or spread the mixture in a rough square over the surface of the plastic wrap. Pull the sides of the wrap over the square one side at a time to enclose the faux chocolate in plastic. Refrigerate until firm (1-2 hours), then cut in small squares. Store, covered, in the refrigerator for up to one week. Makes 12-20 squares (depending on how big you cut them).
* If you room is warm enough that the coconut oil has begun to melt, place it in the refrigerator for a while until it firms up again. It should be solid when you begin the recipe.
Okay, in reality, Thanksgiving means that, like it or not, the holiday season is already upon us. Orange and black streamers hanging from gift shop ceilings, Hallmark stores overflowing with turkey cards and placemats, Christmas muzak on every elevator and wafting through every shopping mall, heart-shaped chocolate and chocolate eggs at every checkout. . . yep, the holiday season is already upon us, and will continue pretty much unabated until somewhere around May 1st.
Okay, then: let’s party!
Before I get to today’s recipe, however, I’d like to wish all my Canadian compatriots a very Happy Thanksgiving! And in honor of the onset of the holiday festivities, I’m happy to offer a very special sale of Sweet Freedom.
I found myself with some extra stock of books and think these would make excellent holiday gifts, whether for a friend, family member, or even yourself! Until December 1st, 2009, you can purchase a signed copy (dedicated to the name of your choice) of Sweet Freedom that I will ship directly to you, for just $25.00 US (a 35% discount). There are no extra charges to this price–no shipping, no taxes!
If you’d like to purchase a copy of Sweet Freedom at this special sale price or would like to learn more about the book, simply click on the “Cookbook” tab above or the book icon to the left. Choose the first (sale) option. There! You’ve just completed your holiday gift shopping–more time to have fun!
* * * * * * * * * *
As much as I appreciate living in the 21st century, in some ways I am decidedly old-fashioned. In fact, in many ways, I tend to cleave to the archaic (and not just because I use words like, “cleave,” either). For instance, I don’t care how convenient bread machines may be; to me, it’s not really bread unless it’s mixed, kneaded and shaped by hand. When I was younger, I used to carry handkerchiefs with me rather than tissues (but had to stop the practice because too many people just got grossed out. Even though I washed them after only one use–I swear!). Ever since living with Mr. Audiophile (aka the HH), I’ve come to prefer LPs to CDs (they really do sound better!), though I suppose both will become antiques in the very near future.
And while I’m comfortable using a computer (sure comes in handy when one keeps a food blog) and I participate (nominally) in Facebook and twitter, I have never really warmed up to the concept of a PDA. I don’t own a Blackberry, iPhone, or any other similar electronic device. What I use is an old-fashioned, faux-leather bound, paper daytimer.
I love my daytimer and couldn’t imagine giving it up for any reason. I mean, it’s 100% portable (slips easily into my purse); it’s easy to use (only basic language skills required); and it never requires recharging (which means I can use it anywhere, any time, even during power failures or while in a root cellar during a tornado). When I want to know what’s planned on December 17, for instance, I simply flip the pages to that date and–voilà!–”dental cleaning” (ugh! has it been six months already??). If the HH sidles up to me and murmurs, ”Ric, sweetie, honey, um, can you drive me to my follow up eye surgery appointment next Wednesday at 10:45?” all I need do is flip, flip, flip, and the answer is immediately forthcoming (yes, HH honey sweetie, I will drive you.).
The other day, I realized that I’d soon need to acquire a new, 2010 version of my book. While flipping through the last few pages of 2009 (where a few blank sheets are reserved for “Notes”), I happened upon a recipe that had been hastily scribbled on the last page. Well, what do you know–it was in my own handwriting!
I do remember, vaguely, copying a recipe from a magazine in my doctor’s waiting room one day. Which doctor? Can’t remember. How long ago was this appointment? I have no idea. Which magazine? Hmmm, my mind’s a blank. Was the dish something I’d still like to make? You betcha!
In fact, the recipe–a roasted plum and baby spinach salad topped with bacon–sounded perfect for the upcoming Thanksgiving table. A novel departure from cranberries or pumpkin, the salad still featured a seasonal fruit, as well as pure maple syrup, one of Canada’s most beloved domestic products. As a bonus, I happened to have a bag of organic plums from our organic box waiting patiently on the kitchen counter and had been looking for a way to use them (since my all-too-frequent tendency is to wait until they’re on the verge of spoilage before sussing out a recipe). I made a quick switch to tempeh bacon–and had a great recipe to try out this long weekend!
The salad came together very easily as the kitchen was flooded with the dual sweetness of warming plums and crackling bacon. The crisp, young spinach is the perfect foundation for the slightly softened plums and smoky tempeh. When roasted, the plums just begin to caramelize; tossed in maple syrup, they offer a lovely contrast of sweet, crusty exterior and tart, juicy inner flesh. Punctuated by thin slices of red onion and the sharp piquancy of dijon dressing, the salad offers a pastiche of flavors that was–well, plum delicious. (Sorry, couldn’t resist).
In this second phase of the ACD, I’m allowed one (non-sweet) fruit a day, so I decided to revamp the original recipe so I could eat it, too. I prepared the original version for the HH, set aside a few plum slices for me, and whipped up a separate dressing for each of us. I’m including both recipes here for those of you on restricted diets so that you can enjoy a little sweetness of your own at Thanksgiving. One serving of this, and I guarantee you’ll be ready for party season.
“Um, Mum, you forgot to mention that Thanksgiving weekend also means one more extra long walk for us Girls. . . we love the holidays!”
Tempeh Bacon-Topped, Roasted Plum and Baby Spinach Salad
adapted from a magazine in my doctor’s waiting room (ACD version below)
A perfect first course to a holiday dinner, the salad is substantial without being overly filling. To make a meal of it, increase the amount of tempeh per serving, and add a side of rice pilaf or quinoa.
1 batch (about 12 slices) tempeh bacon, homemade or store bought (I used the recipe from Vegan with a Vengeance, with the ACD-friendly alterations listed below)
8 plums (not black prune type), cut in half and stone removed
8-10 fresh sage leaves
2 Tbsp (30 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
3 garlic cloves, minced
2 Tbsp (30 ml) dijon mustard
1/3 cup (80 ml) red wine vinegar
1/2 cup (120 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
salt and pepper, to taste
2 Tbsp (30 ml) pure maple syrup
1/2 red onion, thinly sliced
2 pkg (20 oz or 570 g) baby spinach
Preheat oven to 450F (230C). Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper.
Place the plums cut side down on the cookie sheet and drizzle with 2 Tbsp (30 ml) olive oil. Scatter the sage leaves onto the sheet around the plums. Bake for about 12 minutes, until plums are softened and cut side is beginning to caramelize, but plums still hold their shape. Remove from oven and cool to room temperature, then slice into half-moon shaped slices. (If you are using homemade tempeh bacon, you can keep it warm on a heatproof platter; cover with foil and reduce oven temperature to 250F (120C) before placing in oven to keep warm.)
Meanwhile, mix the dressing: In a small jar or bowl, combine the minced garlic, red wine vinegar, 1/2 cup (120 ml) olive oil, and salt and pepper to taste. Either whisk the mixture or shake the (closed) jar vigorously until well combined.
To assemble, place spinach leaves on a platter and scatter the onion slices over it. Toss the plums with the maple syrup and place over the spinach. Top with the warm tempeh. Drizzle with dressing, then crumble baked sage leaves over all. Serve immediately. Makes 6-8 servings.
ACD-Friendly Variation:
Set aside 1 serving of plums before tossing them in the maple syrup; have yours without syrup.
Instead of the dressing above, mix (per serving): 2 Tbsp (30 ml) freshly squeezed lemon juice, 2 Tbsp (30 ml) extra virgin olive oil, 1/4 tsp (1 ml) mustard powder, and salt and pepper to taste with 1-2 drops stevia liquid.
Make these changes to the tempeh bacon recipe: omit apple cider, tomato paste, and liquid smoke (unless it’s sugar and alcohol free). Instead of apple cider, use 1/4 cup (60 ml) freshly squeezed lemon juice mixed with enough water to make 1/3 cup (80 ml); add 5 drops liquid stevia. Use tomato paste that is free of sugar and wheat (or use puréed tomato). Instead of liquid smoke, use smoked paprika. Otherwise, follow the recipe as written.
I recently received a copy of the newly published Clean Food by Terry Walters. The book focuses on local, whole, natural foods.
I’ve posted my review as well as recipes for Seaweed Cabbage Sauté and Banana Coconut Chocolate Chip Cookies in the “Giveaways/Reviews” section of the blog.
