Show of hands: who watched the Royal Wedding this morning? (I won’t tell anyone.) I had set the PVR for 3:00 AM (Toronto time) just in case I slept through the alarm. . . which, of course, I did. But even pre-recorded, it was a lovely affair, and Kate did look rather smashing in her Sarah Burton-designed wedding gown, didn’t she? And wasn’t it touching when Wills whispered, “You look lovely–you look beautiful” to her and then when she turned to him in the carriage and said, “Are you happy?” (thanks, lip readers)–because really, what person in their right mind in that situation wouldn’t be deliriously happy–I mean, seriously, people, she is going to be queen. Oh, and kudos to her for not snorting through her nose when she uttered the “in richer or in poorer” part of the vows.
Although I made this dish for the HH and my Easter dinner, I thought it was perfectly fitting as a tribute to the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge. In my mind, nut roasts are decidedly British. Why? Well, I think it has to do with one of my first cookbooks, bought from the remainder bin at Book City (English cookbooks are always cheap in Toronto, since most people still resist cooking exclusively in grams and millileters). In fact, most of the nut roast recipes I’ve encountered (except those on blogs, of course) were from UK-based cookbooks–one doesn’t see the term “nut roast” too much in North American tomes.
This particular recipe is a throwback to the 1990s, when I cooked up a what was definitely an American take on the classic loaf, for a very artsy dinner party. You see, back ithen I had the opportunity to teach English at the acclaimed OCA (later OCAD), or Ontario College of Art and Design, at one time welcoming institution to JEH MacDonald, Arthur Lismer, Michael Snow, and many other famous Canadian artists. Situated in the heart of the university district downtown and abutting Chinatown, it is a wellspring of creativity, eccentricity, emotional immaturity and oil paint.
I remember vividly the day of my interview. I had applied for a one-year replacement position while the regular English teacher was on sabbatical. Knowing that OCA was an art college and, therefore, the polar opposite of my usual place of employ (where I dealt mostly with computer studies students), I determined to jazz up my typical “interview uniform” consisting of black blazer, black knee-length skirt, black tights, black pumps, gold stud earrings (with black stones) and subdued makeup (black mascara but definitely no black nailpolish). Instead, I donned my one and only patterned suit jacket, a fitted collarless button-down featuring muted floral print in shades of beige, maroon. . . and black.
As I waited outside the boardroom in which a six-member panel interrogatedgrilled humiliated met with candidates, I could hear muffled chatter of the previous interview in progress. Every now and then, punctuating the murmurs and dull buzz came an eruption of laughter so sharp and so drawn out that I imagined Robin Williams had dropped in for some impromptu entertainment between questions about curriculum.
Finally, the door swung open and the previous candidate sashayed out, her face flush with victory. She barely glanced my way as she strode by, raised her eyebrowns and wrinkled her nose as if to say, “Sorry, sweetie, this one’s in the bag.” Before I could worry too much, I was ushered in to the room and accosted with a barrage of questions. I walked away feeling as if I’d done my best–but sure my best was not enough. The following day, I received the call–I was hired!
I worked at OCA for two years, during which time I helped to launch the first Writing Center at the college (though I never did find out what happened to that other job applicant). I loved all the unconventional, offbeat students and professors there, with their scraggly hair that hung like tassels to their shoulders, their landscape tatoos, asymmetrical skirts, spiked hair and piercings in noses and eyebrows and lips and various other appendages that seemed just too bizarre at the time.
I often lunched with one of my colleagues (I’ll just call him “Roman à Clef) when we wanted to escape the maelstrom of the college and have a proper chat. Everything about Roman was soft and gentle, from his whisper-quiet voice to his pale blue eyes to his salt-and-pepper beard, full and plush like moss on a tree trunk. Roman was also a vegetarian, a perfect lunch companion.
Eventually, I felt comfortable enough to throw a dinner party for some of my OCA colleagues, but I still fretted about what I’d serve that could please everyone. I turned to my first (vegetarian) culinary hero, Mollie Katzen, and the original Moosewood Cookbook. In the book, Katzen offers a dish she calls “Carrot-Mushroom Loaf.” Except it’s not a loaf; it’s baked in a rectangular pan and is more like a kugel, made with something like five eggs. Nevertheless, I made the recipe and it was a collosal hit, not only with Roman (who wolfed down three pieces–each with a glass of wine–and then remarked, ”that was the best vegetarian meal I’ve ever had. . . if I were only twenty years younger, I’d ask you out about now”), but also with all the omnivores as well.
Naturally, when I sought out a superb nutroast recipe for my submission to Johanna’s A Neb at Nut Roast II event, I returned to the Katzen recipe. But I’d forgotten about the mushrooms in the loaf (verboten on the ACD); and there seemed no feasible way to replace all those eggs with ground flax. So I began with the concept of “carrot + loaf” and took it from there. I added pecans, a beloved but underused nut, and fresh dill, one of my favorite herbs to pair with carrots. For binding, I ground up a bunch of gluten free crackers, well, just to get rid of the broken ones hanging out at the bottom of the box.
I loved this loaf with its decidedly veggie slant. If you’re expecting a meat analogue, this is not the loaf for you. Still, even the flesh-loving HH enjoyed his slice with some caramelized onion gravy and a healthy serving of celeri rémoulade. Once baked, the slightly sweet carrots meld perfectly with the toasty nuts and herbs; and the slices hold up well the next day, perfect for sandwiches. The cooked carrots also imbue the loaf with a lovely golden hue that’s rather festive–in fact, one might even say, somewhat royal.
You’ve still got time to submit your own nutroast creations to the Neb at Nutroast II event–ongoing until May 5th!
This loaf is an ideal make-ahead main course, as the flavors mature and the texture firms up overnight in the refrigerator. It’s still great straight from the oven, too, slathered with gravy and served alongside mashed potatoes and your favorite vegetable.
1/2 medium onion, cut in half and then thinly sliced
1 Tbsp (15 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
1/3 cup (80 ml) gluten-free cracker crumbs (I used 25 Mary’s plain crackers)
3 cups (300 g or 10.5 oz) toasted pecans
1/4 cup (60 ml) finely ground flax seeds
1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) fine sea salt
pepper, to taste
1 pound (455 g) trimmed and peeled carrots (about 6 large), cut in chunks
1 large celery stalk, cut in chunks
2 large garlic cloves, cut in half
1/4 cup (60 ml) fresh dill or 1 Tbsp (15 ml) dried dill
1/4 cup (60 ml) fresh parsley
1 Tbsp (15 ml) Bragg’s liquid aminos, tamari or soy sauce (use Bragg’s for ACD)
1/2 cup (120 ml) vegetable broth or stock
Preheat oven to 350F (180C). Line an 8 or 9 inch (20-22.5 cm) loaf pan with parchment, or spray with nonstick spray and set aside.
In a medium frypan, heat the oil; add onion and cook over medium heat until the onion is soft and beginning to brown, about 10 minutes. Turn off heat.
In the bowl of a food processor, grind the crackers until they become fine crumbs. Add the pecans, flax seeds, salt and pepper and process until you have what looks like a fine meal. Turn into a large bowl and set aside.
To the same processor bowl (no need to wash it), add the carrots, celery, garlic, dill, parsley, Bragg’s, broth and cooked onions from the pan along with any oil left in the frypan. Process until smooth, scraping down sides as necessary (there should be no lumps of vegetables visible). Add the mixture to the bowl with the nuts and stir together by hand. It should be fairly thick.
Spread the batter in the loaf pan and smooth the top. Bake in preheated oven for 60-70 minutes, rotating pan about halfway through, until deeply browned on the bottom and sides and a knife inserted in the center comes out moist but clean. Allow to cool 10 minutes before slicing. Makes about 8 servings. Serve with gravy, if desired. Will keep, wrapped in the refrigerator, up to 3 days. May be frozen: allow to cool, then slice and wrap slices individually; freeze, then store wrapped slices in a plastic bag in freezer.
Whew–where has the last week gone? Between end-of-term marking and a long holiday weekend, it’s been pretty busy here in the DDD household. I hope you all enjoyed a stellar Passover and/or Easter holiday! This year, the HH and I celebrated both holidays, first with friends (we were invited to two seders this year) and then on our own (a holiday Easter dinner for just the two of us).
As in other areas, when it comes to celebrating holidays, the HH is, shall we say, rather laissez-faire. In other words, if not for me, we would probably have eaten cereal for dinner on Sunday instead of the fantastic repast we did have (nutroast and céléri remoulade, about which I’ll post in a day or two). To top off our weekend, we went to see Water for Elephantswith my friend Nutritionista and her hubby last night. Since I had no preconceived notions about Robert Pattinson (having never seen any of the Twilight films) and since I love Reese Witherspoon, I really enjoyed the movie (though, is it just me, or is there something vaguely simian about his looks?).
Well, after all the heavy, rich foods of the past long weekend, I am so ready for something fresh, light, crisp–and raw!
I was delighted a while back when Brittany of Real Sustenance asked if I’d like to participate in her month-long tribute to raw foods, April in the Raw. You see, raw foods (fresh fruits, vegetables, nuts, seeds, and a few others), consumed in the same state as we’d find them in nature (technically, nothing heated above 115F46 C), are considered to provide optimum nutritional value while retaining the natural enzymes that may help us to digest those same foods (when foods are cooked, your pancreas must take on this monumental task on its own–not too much fun for the l’il pancreas).
With spring in the air (okay, maybe not literally–what is it with the never ending winter this year?–but it’s coming, I just know it), this is as good a time as any to try out some raw recipes. Besides, raw foods are ideal for those of us who plan to detox around this time of year–and I’ve decided that I really need to detox. How much do I need a cleanse right now? In a show of hands, I’d have to throw in not just my hand, but probably the whole deck. Yep, a cleanse is definitely in order for this gal.
(“Mum, you don’t think we need a cleanse, do you? Because, you know, we go swimming at least once a week in the pond, so that keeps us cleansed, doesn’t it?. On the other hand, if you want to throw a little raw food our way, we’re all for it!’)
[Raw Asparagus, Romaine and Grapefruit Salad--who knew?]
Most days, I aim for something raw at each meal, but that wasn’t always the case. In fact, I didn’t discover the joy of raw foods until I was in nutrition school, during the “Alternative Diets” course. The entire class was inspired by our prof, Miss Serenity (in opposition to my friends and me, collectively Misses Anxiety, Dissatisfaction, Self-Doubt, Insecurity, Impatience, Grumpy and Sleepy). Miss Serenity was, herself, a raw foodist, and we all wanted to be like her.
Miss Serenity was the image of radiant health, with a strong, toned physicque, luxurious hair the color of milk chocolate and the whitest smile I’ve ever seen; she was also the polar opposite of the stereotypical “vegan.” Her skin shone with the pink glow of iron and oxygen-rich blood, she guffawed with great glee and was the last person one would consider “stuffy” or “preachy.” Yet she also taught yoga and meditated every day, she grew her own wheat grass and she owned a house painted in bold colors of the seven chakras. As soon as she announced that she was teaching a “Raw Foods Fundamentals” course in her home, I signed up.
Because of Miss Serenity, I decided to “go raw” for a month. As a full-time student, I had the luxury to prepare all my food from scratch and could spend hours chopping, grating, puréeing, blending, processing, soaking, and juicing as I made recipe after recipe from Miss Serenity’s cookbook. The food was delicious, but ultimately I abandoned the idea–I just didn’t have 2-3 extra hours a day to devote to food prep.
Since then, I’ve discovered that “uncooking” need not take exorbitant amounts of time. The “original” raw foods–fruits and vegetables, raw nuts and seeds–can be eaten out of hand, exactly as they are the instant you pick them or shell them. Somewhere between fresh-picked and three-hour prep is a happy medium: a bit of chopping, perhaps some peeling or prepping, along with fewer ingredients or foods eaten fresh and whole. (Even Miss Serenity occasionally brought a “mono-meal” for her lunch: we’d watch, mesmerized, as she peeled and ate 4-5 mangoes at a sitting–and nothing else for that meal).
Today’s offering is meant to show you that raw food can be both simple and delicious. First up, I’m including the quintessential raw dish: salad (but with a new twist). Then, once you’ve eaten your greens, I think you deserve a fantastic dessert: these raw Frosted Lemon-Poppyseed Bars! Even the HH loved them.
The salad does a bit of double-duty, as it also contains this month’s SOS Kitchen Challenge ingredient, asparagus. I had no idea one could eat raw asparagus until I came across a recipe for “Shaved Asparagus Salad with Orange-Tarragon Vinaigrette” in the May/June 2009 issue of Vegetarian Times. Well, that was all the incentive I needed to start playing with the recipe and come up with my own adaptation. The ACD doesn’t allow oranges but does allow grapefruit for some bizarre reason, so that was the substitution I used.
The resulting salad was crisp, fresh, and juicy, the slightly sweet shards of asparagus lending a decidedly springlike air (something we sorely need these rainy days!). Fragrant with tarragon and grapefruit zest, the salad was a lively start to our meal. I didn’t tell the HH it contained raw asparagus until he’d already dug in and proclaimed the dish “fantastic.” I’d suggest you do the same when you serve this.
Shaved Asparagus Salad with Grapefruit-Tarragon Vinaigrette (adapted from Vegetarian Times, May/June 2009)
about 3/4 pound (12 oz or 375 g) fresh asparagus, washed and woody ends broken off
1 small head romaine lettuce, washed, trimmed, and torn into bite-sized pieces
1/2 cup (120 ml) toasted hazelnuts, coarsely chopped
1 large grapefruit, peeled and cut into segments, membrane removed if desired (grate the zest before cutting the fruit)
1 tsp (5 ml) freshly grated grapefruit zest
1 Tbsp (15 ml) minced onion
1 tsp (5 ml) dried tarragon or 1 Tbsp (15 ml) fresh, chopped fine
1/4 cup (60 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
1 Tbsp (15 ml) apple cider vinegar
3 Tbsp (45 ml) freshly squeezed lemon juice (about 1/2 large lemon)
1 tsp (5 ml) Dijon mustard
6-8 drops plain stevia liquid, to your taste
Shave the asparagus by using a vegetable peeler and peeling into long strands. Alternately, grate the asparagus in a food processor with the grating blade (this is what I did). Place the asparagus, lettuce, grapefruit segments and hazelnuts in a large salad bowl.
In a small bowl or glass measuring cup, whisk together the grapefruit zest, onion, tarragon, oil, vinegar, lemon juice, mustard and stevia. Pour the dressing over the salad ingredients and toss well to coat. Serve immediately. Makes 4-6 servings.
To cap off your meal, how about these dazzling Lemon-Poppyseed Bars with Lemon Frosting? All raw, of course! Lemon and Poppyseed is one of the HH’s favorite combinations, so I decided to create a raw dessert that he’d love even more than the salad. These little confections are firm and chewy with a sparkling crunch of poppyseeds in every bite. The frosting firms up in the fridge, but left at room temperature softens to a creamy, smooth, entirely alluring topping. Because they’re so rich, you can cut these into small cubes of one or two bites a piece, and you’ll still be satisfied.
Raw Frosted Lemon Poppyseed Bars
Suitable for ACD Stage 1 and beyond
These bars are adapted from a recipe in my Desserts without Compromise Ebook for Raw Lemon-Coconut Bars. When I was hosting a friend’s birthday party in our house a while back, I made these so that I’d have something to eat while everyone else feasted on the conventional (white flour and white sugar) cake that my friend’s husband had bought. When I brought out my plate of lemon bars, someone asked to taste them–and within minutes the plate was empty! This is definitely tasty and impressive enough to serve to anyone, ACD or not.
Juice of 1 lemon (about 1/4 cup/60 ml), divided in half (2 Tbsp/30 ml each)
2 Tbsp (30 ml) vegetable glycerin, yacon syrup or agave syrup (for ACD Stage 1, don’t use agave)
15-20 drops plain or vanilla stevia liquid, to taste
1 tsp (5 ml) pure vanilla extract
2 Tbsp (30 ml) raw poppy seeds
For the Frosting:
2 Tbsp (30 ml) whole chia seeds, or heaping 1/4 cup (70 ml) pre-ground
1/3 cup (80 ml) coconut oil, preferably organic
1 Tbsp (15 ml) raw cashew or macadamia nut butter (or use regular if you’re not concerned about it being raw)
Remainder of lemon zest and juice from making the base, above
15-20 drops plain or vanilla stevia liquid, to taste
extra lemon zest and poppy seeds for garnish, if desired
Make the base: Line a regular loaf pan with plastic wrap. Set aside.
If using whole chia seeds, grind them to a powder in a coffee grinder. Combine the ground chia, almonds, cashews and salt in the bowl of a food processor and process until the mixture looks like a fairly fine meal (no pieces of almond should be visible).
In a small bowl, mix together half the lemon zest, half the lemon juice (about 2 Tbsp/30 ml), vegetable glycerin, stevia and vanilla until everything is well combined. Pour the mixture over the dry ingredients in the processor and blend until it comes together in what looks like a sticky dough (if it’s too dry, add up to 1 Tbsp/15 ml water). Sprinkle with the poppy seeds and pulse just until they are incorporated.
Turn the base into the prepared loaf pan and, using wet hands or a silicon spatula, press it down firmly and evenly. Place in fridge while you prepare the frosting.
Make the frosting: In the bowl of a food processor or using a hand blender, blend all ingredients until perfectly smooth. The mixture may liquefy as the coconut oil melts; this is fine.
Pour the frosting over the base in the pan and swirl the top. Refrigerate until firm, at least 2 hours. (Note: if the frosting is too liquid to hold a shape when you first pour it over the base, refrigerate about 15 minutes until it firms up a bit, and then add any swirls that you like).
Once the top is firm, fold the plastic wrap over it to cover. To unmold, peel back the plastic on top and invert the bars onto a cutting board; turn right-side up and cut into 12 or more pieces (they should be relatively small). Serve immediately; store leftovers covered in the refrigerator for up to 5 days. Makes about 12 servings.
Thanks again to Brittany for allowing me to play along with April in the Raw this year! It’s been so much fun focusing more on the raw foods in my diet. In fact, I plan to keep up with more raw over the next few months.
To see the lineup of all the April in the Raw posts as well as links to readers’ recipes (or to link up your own), check out the April in the Raw main page!
[Guess what? Deanna over at The Mommy Bowl is giving away a package of all three of my ebooks! Hop over there to enter--after you read this post, of course! ]
[Topped with Macadamia Spice Butter from Good Morning! ebook plus fresh pineapple chunks]
Hope all of you who celebrate are having a great Passover! And Happy Easter to everyone who will be celebrating this weekend. The HH and I were invited to not one, but two seders this year (one of which was entirely vegetarian–whoo hoo!) and had a lovely time. This weekend, I’ll be cooking up a special meal in honor of Easter featuring a new nut roast recipe, to be posted next week (wish me luck!).
You know that old adage, “You can never be too rich or too thin”? Well, I would modify it somewhat to say, “You can never have too many pancake recipes.” (Oh, and also, you can never be too rich).
Yes, indeed, I do love me some pancakes! Fluffy pancakes, grain-free pancakes, savory pancakes–they all appeal to me. I love pancakes so much that I even adopted the CFO’s irreverent toast that used their name in vain.
As I am fond of repeating (and anything worth repeating is worth repeating often), breakfast is my favorite meal of the day. It’s also a pretty darned good snack, if you ask me. Not only do I relish every Sunday brunch that I share with the HH, I even wrote an entire ebook filled with delectable ACD-friendly, gluten free breakfast recipes!
In fact, it’s because of the ebook that I present you with this recipe today. Around the time that the book was going to launch, I received an email from Howard, a co-worker of one of my recipe testers. Howard mentioned that Ms. Tester had talked about a specific Coconut Pancake recipe that had been tested, but which never made it to the ebook (the result was a little too dry for my tastes and I wasn’t 100% happy with it). He asked if he could have the recipe anyway, as he loves coconut.
Well, I just didn’t feel right about sharing a recipe that I myself didn’t enjoy eating. I offered to work on it until I got it right–and then post it on the blog.
I’ve been playing with the recipe since then. I wanted it to contain both coconut AND coconut flour. I’ve always found that coconut flour on its own is difficult to use in baked goods, as it absorbs so much moisture that the result is often too wet and gooey. If you use less liquid to compensate, your batter is often too thick to spread. In this case, I finally decided to compromise (after about 16 trials–good thing I love pancakes), and decreased the coconut flour while adding a touch of brown rice flour. The result was a fairly light and very coconutty breakfast cake.
So Howard, this one’s for you. Though, having said that, I do hope you won’t mind sharing it with Hallie and her readers. Hallie is hosting a cool breakfast-themed event called Build a Better Breakfast. The challenge is to create a nourishing breakfast and post about it–either a recipe, or any other tip on how you might improve on the first meal of the day. In fact, I’m getting this in just under the wire, as today is the deadline.
As for a tip, I’ll leave you with one I included in the Good Morning! breakfast ebook. For a quick and foolproof method to ensure a balanced meal (whether breakfast or any other), just think in terms of threes–the three macronutrients, that is: protein, complex carbs and healthy fats. If you team up one food from each category in a meal, you’ll be well nourished and well satisfied, for hours.
These pancakes almost fit the “three nutrient” bill on their own; they are rich in complex carbs (from the flours) and healthy fats (the coconut, flax seeds and olive oil). But protein? Not so much. So I always top my pancakes with a delicious nut butter “sauce” such as this one to add a touch of protein. (Two tablespoons/30 ml of almond butter has about 5 g of protein. Win!). Of course, you could also pair your pancakes with tempeh or tofu, for instance, or some high-protein hemp or chia seeds.
Perfect for an Easter brunch, I’d say. Because you can never have too many dishes at the brunch table, either.
“Mum, pancakes are fine and everything, but we think you can never have too many treats in one day. . . so how about giving us that sixteenth biscuit now?”
[The money shot: inside, coconutty goodness]
Coconut Pancakes (suitable for ACD stage 2 and beyond)
These are thick, coconut-rich pancakes that are moist without being gluey. Because I’m basically lazy, I used untoasted coconut, but you can certainly toast it first to enhance the flavors even more. This recipe makes only 4 pancakes, but it can easily be doubled.
6 Tbsp (90 ml) unsweetened plain or vanilla almond or soy milk
2 Tbsp (30 ml) finely ground flax seeds
1 Tbsp (15 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
1 tsp (5 ml) apple cider vinegar
6-8 drops plain or vanilla stevia liquid, to your taste
1 tsp (5 ml) pure vanilla extract (or use 1/2 tsp coconut extract)
1/3 cup (80 ml) unsweetened shredded coconut, toasted if desired
2 Tbsp (30 ml) brown rice flour
2 Tbsp (30 ml) potato starch
1 Tbsp (15 ml) coconut flour
1 tsp (5 ml) baking powder
1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) baking soda
1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) xanthan gum
1/8 tsp (.5 ml) fine sea salt
In the bottom of a medium bowl, whisk together the milk, flax seeds, oil, vinegar, stevia and vanilla. Stir in the coconut to coat.
Into the same bowl, sift the brown rice flour, potato starch, coconut flour, baking powder, baking soda, xanthan gum and salt. Stir quickly to blend; do not overmix. It will be thick.
Heat a large nonstick frypan over medium-low heat (cooking over slightly lower heat, but for a longer time, ensures that the pancakes are fully cooked). Using a large ice cream scoop or spatula, scoop about 1/4 of the batter into the pan and spread it fairly thin with the back of a spoon or spatula (it should be too thick to spread on its own). Allow to cook for 4-6 minutes, until the edges of the pancakes begin to dry and the bottoms are a very deep golden brown. Flip and cook another 4-5 minutes, until fully cooked. You want the pancakes to be very well browned.
Serve with nut butter, fruit topping, or any other topping of your choice. Makes 4 medium pancakes. May be frozen.
Today marks only a few days before the start of Passover, and Easter is right around the next corner–it’s time to cook for the holidays! Since the HH and I are invited to a friend’s house for a seder this year (and since her niece is a vegetarian), I decided to bring a dish that normally makes an appearance on Passover tables: chopped liver. My version, of course, is “mock.”
So you might be wondering, “what is a self-professed meat-refusenik doing posting yet another faux meat recipe on this blog? Like, the sixthoneI’veposted so far?”
Well, believe it or not, this time I’m not creating a vegan version of a meat I ate as a kid; this spread is the very same one that my mother made for us countless times when I was young, despite her having an unlimited supply of meat available via My Dad the Butcher (I told you she was a closet vegetarian).
I seem to remember this Mock Chopped Liver recipe originating from a cookbook Mom had called Second Helpings, Please!,but when I leafed through my old copy, I couldn’t find it. I did find a remarkably similar version to the one I remember on Nava Atlas’s Veg Kitchen site, however. Nava’s version seems to be almost identical to my mom’s, with two important differences: my mother’s used canned green beans instead of fresh (in particular, a type called “French Cut,” which was specified in her recipe); and whereas Nava uses cashews, my mom used walnuts. I decided to split the difference and use half of each type of nut (and walnuts result in a deeper brown color than cashews, more like the authentic spread).
Whether
Whether or not you like (or have even ever tasted) chopped liver, this spread is a perfect topping for crackers, celery sticks or collard leaves–but, unfortunately, not matzo. You see, my good intentions were dashed when I realized that beans are not allowed at Passover–and the main ingredient in this spread is beans! (If you observe Passover, you can try this other mock chopped liver on Nava’s site, which uses mushrooms instead).
To the HH, who grew up on liverwurst, this spread tastes “nothing like real liver.” And yet, it looks eerily like the “real thing,” with the same rich, smooth flavor imparted by onions, fried until caramelized (the hallmark of chopped liver).
And since it is the holidays with both Passover and Easter falling within days of each other, I’m also including a quick reference list of some holiday-themed recipes for those of you still thinking about what to cook (see bottom of this post).
And don’t forget, you can still find dishes for a full holiday menu in the Anti Candida Feastebook (the nutroast is perfect for Easter) as well as many grain-free, Passover-friendly desserts in Desserts without Compromise.
I thought this spread would be a perfect submission for Diane’s Real Food Weekly event–all real ingredients, of course!
Mock Chopped Liver (suitable for ACD Stage 1 and beyond)
Whether or not you like the “real thing,” this is a great spread for sandwiches, crackers, or veggies. I’ve added paprika and walnuts to the original recipe and decided to stick with the canned beans for a more authentic hue, but feel free to use freshly steamed if you prefer.
2 Tbsp (30 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
2 medium onions, coarsely chopped
1 can (19 ounces or 400 ml) cooked green beans, well drained
2/3 cup (160 ml) lightly toasted cashews, walnuts or combination (I used 1/3 cup/80 ml of each)
1 tsp (5 ml) Bragg’s liquid aminos or soy sauce (for ACD, use Bragg’s)
1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) paprika
salt and pepper, to taste
sliced green onion for garnish, if desired
Heat the oil in a nonstick frypan and add the onions; fry over medium-low heat, stirring frequenty, until they are well browned and beginning to caramelize, 10-15 minutes. Meanwhile, place all the remaining ingredients in the bowl of a food processor.
Once the onions are done, add them to the processor and blend until everything is smooth. Scrape into a bowl or container and allow to cool to room temperature before servings. Garnish with green onions, if desired. Makes about 2 cups (480 ml). Store, covered, in the refrigerator up to 4 days.
LAST MINUTE HOLIDAY RECIPE SUGGESTIONS:
I’ve designated each recipe with B (either Passover or Easter) or E (Easter only).
Appetizers and H’ors D’oeuvres:
(E) Carrot Pâté ( Pâté is GF; for ACD version, use apple cider vinegar)
[Perhaps imperfect, but recognizably egg-like in shape, right?]
One of my first paying jobs was working as a cashier at the local drugstore in a strip mall near my house, where, as it happened, three of my closest friends and I all got jobs. It wasn’t unusual for all four of us to work the same shift on a Saturday, two stationed on one side of the exit door, two on the other. We’d stand looking across at each other, our nonstop chatter filling the store like sound effects to rival the piped-in Muzak, as the sun streamed in through huge picture windows on the wall beside us.
We considered our boss, the Evil “Mr. M—r” (let’s just call him “Mr,” in a Color Purple sort of way), to be a veritable task master. If he caught us talking to each other–or simply standing idle for more than 30 seconds (even if no customers were in sight),–we’d be instantly reprimanded. “Go restock the toilet paper,” MR would bark, or “here, price this case of toothpaste tubes,” or “Face the antacid shelves.” If the store was really quiet, he’d have us do something even more demeaning, like mopping the floors in the back.
We had our own methods of entertaining ourselves, of course, to which MR was never privy. We’d assign code names to cute guys (“Rothmans,” the heavy-duty cigarettes smoked by steely blue-eyed cowboy types, was a favorite) or roll our eyes knowingly when the uppity girls from our high school sashayed into the store and stocked up on hair gel and mousses. Or we’d sing our favorite duets, like “I Got You, Babe,” or imitate MR’s nasal drawl (when he was out of the store, of course). Years later, Sterlin and I decided we’d write a screenplay about our experiences there called The Phunny Pharm (as in, “pharmacy,” get it? Oh, my, weren’t we just too hilarious!–I mean, phunny!).
Holiday weekends, with so many people off work, were notoriously unpredictable; they were either deadly boring or incredibly busy. One Easter Saturday, Sterlin and I were assigned opposite cashes. By 8:15 AM, we’d already tidied the countertops, re-folded newspapers into neat piles and straightened out the candy bars.
“MR will kill us if he comes in and sees that we’re not doing anything,” I mused. But then we noticed the recent shipment of chocolate Easter bunnies piled unceremoniously on the floor near our cashes. Even though there was a perfectly good display table at the end of the aisle, with a perfectly good tabletop on which they could have been stacked, most of the boxes had been strewn on the floor or worse, pushed right under it.
Each box housed a cute little brown or white molded rabbit, some with blue candy eyes or pink candy noses, some with perky ears pointing straight up, others with one ear up and one pressed back against their heads. They were all made of that high-gloss, waxy compound “chocolatey” substance that, truth be told, I just loved; I could have eaten an entire (3/4 pound/340 g), $12.99-a-box, confection all by myself. In fact, my love of chocolate bunnies was matched only by my love of Cadbury Creme Eggs, another Easter staple.
“Let’s fix the display!” Sterlin suggested. So we spent the good part of an hour (there were no customers that early–we barely served a single “Rothmans” the entire time) carefully stacking the boxes in neat rows, pyramid-style, taking care to alternate between dark and light bunnies or those looking to the left and those looking to the right so they’d present incoming customers with an interesting tableau of shapes and sizes.
We had just congratulated ourselves on our initiative when the hoards suddenly appeared. Our friends Babe and Angel were called into service as well, while I was deployed to the cosmetics department to help Claudette, the Parisian cosmetician who had immigrated to Montreal to be with her beau. Glamorous and exotic (at least, to me), Claudette wore thick false eyelashes and eyelids frosted in baby blue, her platinum blond hair slicked back to reveal her perfect, model-like features. For some reason, Claudette took a liking to me, so I was often gifted with samples of perfume, lipstick or eye shadow (actually intended for paying customers) to take home.
The hours flew by; by 8:30 PM when the store closed, we were all exhausted. I was relieved that I’d spent the day in cosmetics, which meant I didn’t have money to count (though I had managed to score a free lipstick and aluminum-lined pouch of hand lotion). While I waited for my friends to count up their tills, I wandered up and down the aisles. Should I bring home some newly-priced toothpaste, I wondered? Or maybe my parents were out of Kleenex. . . as I strolled over to the cash registers at the front, I my eyes glanced toward the Easter bunny display.
Only. . .
There was no bunny display any longer.
Oh, the boxes were still there, all right, still stacked in perfect rows, just as Sterlin and I had placed them that morning. But the little plastic windows appeared empty. On closer examination, I witnessed cwhat an only be described as “a bunny massacre.”
[The easier option: cubes instead of ovoids. Still delicious.]
All of the perkly little rabbits in their boxes appeared deformed, morphed into shapeless blobs with awkward lumps and bumps where their ears had once been. Others had completely lost their tails or their hind legs, flowing into puddles of muddy chocolate under them.
It took me a second to realize what had precipitated that scene of lupin carnage: the huge, ceiling-to-floor, all-glass picture windows! An entire day of brilliant sunshine! The sun had been shining for the better part of ten hours–directly on those boxes. The poor rabbits had all succumbed to the heat and melted, like Oz’s Wicked Witch of the West. No wonder all those boxes had previously been placed under the table–in the shade.
I must have shrieked, before I myself succumbed to hystrical laughter. By then, Sterlin had come running over and spied the scene, screeching her hilarity. Even Herbert, the normally staid pharmacist, couldn’t help but emit a snort and guffaw.
The entire front row of chocolate bunnies (those that Sterlin and I had so meticulously placed on the shelf that morning) were ruined. I mean, who would be willing to purchase a blob of shapeless melted chocolate for $12.99? And although the maneuver had been unintentional, Sterlin and I couldn’t help but smirk at the thought that this error in our judgment would, in the end, mean that the Evil MR received his just desserts (so to speak).
That night, I arrived home with three chocolate brnnnesss (that’s “Melted” for “bunnies.”) I didn’t mind that my rabbits were deformed, looking like rejects from a GMO product-development experiment. Later that evening, after dinner, everyone enjoyed a big blob of smooth, shapeless, waxy chocolate for dessert.
When I heard about Kelly’s Our Spunky Holiday event, in which readers were invited to submit a dessert for Easter or Passover, I immediately thought of those bunnies. Sure, I realize I could never concoct something similar in my own kitchen (let alone reproduce that favorite waxy texture). Instead, I opted for chocolate covered Easter eggs with a “cream cheese” filling, as close as I could get to the iconic Cadbury Creme eggs.
Unlike those unfortunate bunnies, these Easter Ovoids are only slightly misshapen, however. Because I don’t own egg molds (and because I am basically lazy), my “eggs” turned out, oh, just a wee bit lumpy and bumpy. But have no fear; just like the bunnies of yore, these confections still taste delicious. Housing a soft, smooth, lemony “cream cheese” filling, they are perfect Easter treats.
And–I promise you–no bunnies were harmed in the making of these eggs.
[Soft, creamy "cheesecake" interior. ]
[RECIPE UDATE, APRIL 20: Ack! I just noticed that I typed "orange juice' in the filling by mistake! While that's fine (it will taste great), for a more "cream cheese" like taste, use the lemon juice option (and if you're on the ACD, you're not allowed orange juice. What was I thinking?!]
Chocolate Covered Cheesecake Easter Eggs, suitable for ACD Stage 3 and beyond
If you don’t have egg molds or don’t feel like taking the trouble to make these egg-shaped, you can just pour the “cheese” filling into a square container, then cut in cubes and coat in chocolate, as I do in this recipe.
For the “Cheesecake” Filling:
1 heaping cup (160 g) raw natural cashews
2 Tbsp (30 ml) freshly squeezed lemon or orange juice (use lemon for ACD)
1 Tbsp (15 ml) coconut sugar or agave nectar
10-20 drops plain or vanilla stevia liquid, to your taste
1 tsp (5 ml) pure vanilla extract
1 tsp (5 ml) lemon extract, optional
1/4 cup (60 ml) full-fat coconut milk (from a can–I use Thai Kitchen)
1 tsp (5 ml) whole chia seeds, ground in a coffee grinder to a fine powder (about 2 heaping tsp or 10 ml powder)
1/2 tsp (2. 5 ml) lemon zest
For the Chocolate Coating**:
4 ounces (110 g) good quality unsweetened chocolate (I find Baker’s too bitter for this purpose)
1 Tbsp (15 ml) extra virgin coconut oil, preferably organic (use refined if you want no coconut flavor)
2 Tbsp (30 ml) carob powder, sifted
20-30 drops plain or vanilla stevia, to your taste (don’t overdo the stevia–better to keep it bittersweet)
Make the filling: If you have egg-shaped silicone molds (or other shapes that would be easy to coat in chocolate), set them aside. Otherwise, line a small square container (about 2 cups/480 ml capacity) with plastic wrap and set aside.
In a glass or ceramic bowl, cover the cashews with room temperature water and soak for 6-10 hours; drain. (Alternately, pour boiling water over the cashews in the bowl and allow to soak for 30 minutes to an hour; drain).
Place the cashews and remaining cheesecake ingredients in a high-powered blender (such as a VitaMix) and blend until perfectly smooth. The mixture will be thick and you’ll need to scrape down the sides of the blender container repeatedly. Transfer to the molds or container, then freeze until just firm, 3-4 hours.
For eggs (if you don’t have molds), use a small ice cream scoop and scoop the firm mixture onto a cutting board or plastic-lined plate. Using your hands or two tablespoons, shape each ball into an oval and place back on the board; return to the freezer. Otherwise, invert the entire block of filling onto the cutting board and cut into small cubes; return the cubes to the freezer. Freeze the eggs or cubes until very hard, another 2-4 hours.
Make the coating: In a small, heavy-bottomed pot, melt the chocolate with the coconut oil over very low heat. Whisk in the carob powder and stevia until smooth. Transfer to a small, deep bowl.
Finish the eggs: Have a clean, plastic-lined board or plate at the ready. Working quickly, take the eggs (or cubes) one at a time and dip the bottom in the chocolate. Then place the egg gently on the tines of a large fork over the bowl (chocolate dipped side down) and, using a teaspoon, spoon melted chocolate over the top of the egg so that it runs down the top and sides and coats the entire egg. Tap the handle of the fork against the side of the bowl so that excess chocolate drips into the bowl. Gently push the egg off the fork and onto the plastic-lined plate. Depending on how quickly you work, you may want to keep the uncoated eggs in the freezer and just take them out one at a time.
Once all the eggs are coated, use any extra chocolate in the bowl to touch up little holes or spots on the eggs that aren’t well-coated in chocolate (any cracks or white spots will allow the cheesecake filling to seep through the coating later, once it is no longer frozen). Place the plate with the coated eggs in the refrigerator to allow the filling inside to defrost. Once the middle is no longer frozen (several hours to overnight), the cheesecake interior will be soft, creamy and smooth when you bite into it. For frozen cheesecake treats, keep the eggs in the freezer rather than the refrigerator. Makes 6-8 eggs.
**NOTE: if you are not on the ACD or don’t mind sugar, you can just use chocolate chips melted with 1 tsp (5 ml) coconut oil for the coating.
I’m also submitting this recipe to Diane’s Real Food Weekly event for a real holiday treat, and to Amy’s Slightly Indulgent Tuesdays, where you’ll find healthier versions of all kinds of recipes.
A couple of days ago I was sent a tweet by someone who had noticed my email signature (“Ricki Heller, PhD, RHN”) and commented on my doctorate degree (I guess she hadn’t realized I have a PhD). The funny part is that I usually consider people who call themselves “Dr.” with a PhD (versus an MD) as unbearably pretentious, and I try not to do so. But as I mention in my “About” page: “I hold a PhD in Modern American Literature, which came in really handy the one time my sweetheart and I wanted to book a hotel room for our anniversary, and we got bumped up to a suite instead of a regular room because I had the title “Dr.” on my form.” That was pretty much the best use of my degree so far.
But the anecdote got me thinking about how people sometimes use labels for things simply to make the things sound better than they actually are. Remember Roseanne Barr’s old skit in which she called herself a “domestic goddess” instead of a housewife? And of course there’s the classic ”sanitation engineer.” Or that old résumé staple, “I’m a perfectionist” (ie, “I never finish any of the projects that I start.”)
When it comes to food, alternative epithets abound. I mean, giving something a rather exotic moniker makes it sound more appealing, doesn’t it?
Method One: use a word from a different language. To wit:
When I first came across this recipe in my Kitchen Classics: Gourmet Vegetariancookbook, I must admit that I turned to the HH and asked, “What does ‘Andalusian’ refer to?” (because, as we all know, the HH is the source of all factoids in my life; and also, I was never very good at geography).
“A place in Spain,” he replied.
Well, I have no doubt that the Andalusian people themselves eat their asparagus this way, so of course the name is apt. But really, for those of us here in the Golden Horseshoe, calling it “Andalusian Asparagus” just sounds so much more glamorous, doesn’t it? (And besides, “Golden Horseshoe Asparagus” just doesn’t have the same ring to it.*)
Whatever you call it, it’s entirely appealing. The garlicky, bread-crumby flavors in the topping reminded me of this soup, but the topping here is more like that of a fruit crumble in consistency (except savory). Initially, I imagined that the lemon juice might make the crumble a bit too tart to pair well with the spears, but they actually complemented each other perfectly, the umami of the asparagus providing the strong, savory undertone necessary to balance out the citrus.
I daresay you’ll love this Andalusian asparagus. Besides, it’s a great way to get your kids to eat their organic verdant vegetable fiber. Just sayin’.
“Hey, Mum, did you know that I’m half Alsatian? Doesn’t that sound exotic, too? And by that I mean, ‘exotic enough to give me some extra treats.’”
*Well, of course not. Because it’s a horseshoe, not a ring, silly!
An elegant way to serve your asparagus that’s as tasty as it is visually impressive.
about 1 pound (500 g) fresh asparagus spears, washed and trimmed
1 large or 2 small slices rustic bread, cut into large cubes (I used quinoa sourbread)
3 Tbsp (45 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
3 large garlic cloves, sliced
12-15 raw natural almonds, with skin
1 tsp (5 ml) paprika
1 tsp (5 ml) cumin
2 Tbsp (30 ml) freshly squeezed lemon juice
1 Tbsp (15 ml) water, if necessary
Heat 2 Tbsp (10 ml) of the oil in a large, heavy frypan (I used cast iron). Add the bread, garlic and almonds and cook over medium heat for 3-5 minutes, until the bread and garlic are browned; turn off heat. Using a slotted spoon, transfer to the bowl of a food processor. Add the paprika, cumin and lemon juice and process to a coarse meal (if it’s too dry, add the water and process again).
Return the frypan to the heat with the final tablespoon (15 ml) olive oil. Add the asparagus and cook for 3-5 minutes, then add the bread mixture with an additional 2/3 cup (160 ml) water. Simmer for 4-8 minutes, until the asparagus is tender but still firm and most of the liquid has evaporated. Transfer to a serving platter and serve. Makes 4 servings.
[Sometimes, you just want a dish that's quick and easy--no fuss. 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 simple to make that no recipe is required. Here's today's "Flash in the Pan." (For other FitP recipes, see "Categories" at right).]
A little taste of impending spring, this is a variation on the classic chia pudding, or a much fruitier, lighter version of Crimson Mousse I made with strawberries from our organic produce delivery last week. (But calling it “Fluff” makes it sound much more appealing, doesn’t it?) Feel free to use another berry if you prefer.
Strawberry Chia Fluff for Spring
The coconut milk adds richness and creaminess, yet this still tastes like a light dessert, and one that is both cool and refreshing because of the strawberries. One spoonful and you’ll know that warmer weather is on the way.
2/3 cup (160 ml) full-fat coconut milk (the kind in the can)
2 cups (480 ml) sliced fresh or frozen strawberries
2 Tbsp (30 ml) whole chia seeds*
1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) pure almond extract (omit if sensitive)
1 tsp (5 ml) pure vanilla extract
1 Tbsp (15 ml) freshly squeezed lemon juice
15-25 drops plain or vanilla stevia, to taste
Place all ingredients in a high-powered blender* (such as a VitaMix) and blend until perfectly smooth. Pour into glasses and refrigerate until cold, 1-2 hours (or just eat it right away if you can’t wait–thinner, but still good).
*NOTE: If you don’t have a high-powered blender, you can still make this, but grind the chia seeds first in a coffee grinder until they form a fine powder; pour the powder into the blender along with the other ingredients.
With the fresh, simple ingredients in this dessert, I thought it would be perfect for Diane’s Real Food Weekly event. Check out all the other real food entries!
It’s April–which means the cruelest monthlove is in the air another SOS Kitchen Challenge!
This month, with so many of us thinking about spring and green shoots finally making their way toward the sky, Kim and I have chosen an ingredient that is itself a harbinger of spring. With its lively green hue and tender, pine cone-like tops, this veggie is often enjoyed even by those who don’t otherwise consume many veggies. Our happy ingredient this month happens to be
When asparagus hits the grocery stores and markets around this part of the world, we know spring is just around the corner. And who doesn’t love spring?
Available in most places from April to May (though much earlier in California and much later in the midwest), asparagus is beloved by many as a special treat.
Actually part of the Lily family, asparagus is available in three varieties: green (the type with which most people are familiar), white, which is grown underground to inhibit the chlorophyll and thereby prevent any color from developing; and purple, which is much smaller and more delicate than the standard type.
Perhaps part of its elite appeal is the fact that asparagus is more perishable than many other vegetables; it stays fresh only a few days, and, in fact, begins to lose its antioxidant value more quickly than other veggies. The best way to store asparagus to keep it fresh is to place the cut ends in a little bit of fresh water; I stand my bunch of asparagus upright in an empty (clean) large yogurt container or glass jar, with about an inch (2.5 cm) of water in the bottom. I invert a plastic veggie bag (usually the one it came in) gently over the spears for storage. It will keep a couple of days this way.
With its high fiber content, asparagus is a great aid to digestion. It’s also an excellent source of folic acid and Vitamin K (essential for healthy blood and bones) and is a good source of other B-vitamins. The high amount of Vitamin A (just 6 spears provide 25% of the daily requirement) is great for healthy skin; and it’s also a mild diuretic, which means it can help to reduce swelling or other conditions in which one retains water (such as PMS). Finally, it also helps to detox the body with antioxidants like glutathione (important for liver function). And let’s not forget that it tastes delicious and often appeals to folks who don’t otherwise enjoy their veggies!
Most of us think of asparagus as a savory ingredient, used in classic dishes like quiche or risotto, above–and of course it’s delicious that way! But it’s also great shredded, raw, in salads; creamed in soups; or grilled. And if you can think of a tasty sweet use for this vegetable, you’ll get an extra-special mention in this month’s SOS Roundup!
How to Participate:To play along with this month’s challenge, simply cook up a new recipe–either sweet OR savory (or both)–using asparagus.
Be sure to follow the general SOS guidelines for ingredients and submission requirements (please be sure to read the guidelines before submitting! We hate to remove links, but we will do so if they don’t comply with the general guidelines). You may submit your own recipe or one you found on a website or blog (even one of ours). Then link up your recipe via the linky tool at the bottom of this post, or any of the other SOS: Asparagus posts that I publish this month. Be sure to also add a link to this page on your post, and if you wish, include the SOS logo.
Your recipe will be displayed on both Kim’s and my blog via the Linky, and will be featured in a recipe roundup at the end of this month. As always, we look forward to more of your innovative, delectable, enthusiastic entries this month!
The recipes are all great for anyone following an anti-candida diet (ACD); for vegans ; those on a gluten free, refined sugar free, egg free or kosher diet; or Type II diabetics.
Available for just $12.95 (US), the book offers
57 pages of information and recipes
Over 20 healthy, delicious breakfast recipes, with beautiful full-color photographs
14 newly created, original recipes, developed just for this ebook
An introduction outlining the basics of the anti-candida (low glycemic) diet and the version I follow
a section outlining key ingredients used in these anti-candida desserts
tips on how to prepare healthy breakfasts that are anti-candida friendly
For a full Table of Contents and photos of many of the recipes, see this post.
Buy more than one and save : Buy a package of two or all three ebooks and save! Buy Good Morning! with the previously published Anti-Candida Feast for just 18.25 (20% off), pair it with Desserts without Compromise for just $18.95 (20% off), or buy all three for $24.95 (25% off the regular price!).
To purchase one or all ACD-friendly ebooks, click the button below:
[Voilà--homemade, veggie-based "beef" jerky. Well, it looks like beef. . . ]
The other day, I was bemoaning the fact that there are a bunch of coolbloggerconferences coming up this spring—none of which I’m attending. Then I noticed a tweet for five (five!) scholarships to the upcoming Eat, Write, Retreat event. I was about to kick up my heels and dance a little jig when I noticed that the scholarships were sponsored by Canadian Beef.
Oops.
Pouting, I fired off a twitter retort: “Too bad you have to eat meat to qualify.”
Well, couldn’t you have just knocked me over with a steak knife when I spied the following response: “not necessarily. . . . . Would love to see your entry !:)”
I quickly re-read the contest rules and discovered that I could still enter by writing about a memory of Canadian Beef. And really, who better to write about “memories of beef” than the daughter of a butcher, someone who ate beef virtually every day of her childhood and adolescence—and who now lives with a meat-eater? Why, none other than moi, of course!
I just couldn’t resist. So here’s my “Best Memories of Beef from My Childhood” entry.
Hoping to see y’all at Eat, Write, Retreat!
* * * * * * * * * * * *
[My dad and me, circa 2000, when he was 78.]
When I was a child, there was never any doubt about who was the boss in our family. With one disappointed glance, my father could cause my heart to ache for days. Conversely, he could also spark days of elation, my heart soaring, when I knew he was pleased with something I’d done.
More than anything, my father was defined by the work he did. He spent six days a week at his little butcher shop on Jean Talon West in the Park Extension area of Montreal, leaving for the store long before we children even woke for school and returning after the rest of the family had finished our dinners. On the odd morning when I couldn’t sleep and the clinking of his coffee mug drew me in the direction of the kitchen, I’d stumble onto a scene of my dad, his windbreaker already zipped up, hunched over the kitchen table sipping his tea and snapping at his toast before he grabbed the lunch bag my mother had prepared and rushed out the door.
On Thursdays and Fridays, when the store was open until 8:00 PM, my younger sister and I were often already in bed when he finally returned home. The other nights, he’d arrive between 6:30 and 8:00 PM, his pant legs smeared with dried blood and the smell of sweat on his shirt, sawdust still clinging to his shoes. He’d go straight to the kitchen table, where my mother dished out the remnants of whatever we’d already eaten for dinner—a dried-up hamburger, veal chops, salmon patties and “potato boats,” or, if his stomach were acting up (as it often did when he felt stress), a bowl of rice and warm milk with honey.
I began to resent that my father never seemed to have much time for us kids when he was home. I learned at a young age that if I wanted to interact with him any day but Sunday, I had to see him at work. Since his store was en route between our house in St. Laurent and the Jean Talon Metro (in those days, the gateway to downtown shopping), my best friends Gemini I, Gemini II and I often dropped in at dad’s store on the way home after a day spent browsing at Simpsons, Eatons, and Ogilvie’s. As eleven or twelve year-olds in those days, the hour-long bus and subway ride was a huge adventure, one our parents allowed without any 21st-Century angst, and a short pit stop at the butcher shop made the trip even more palatable in our minds.
[Jerky in the making: about halfway there.]
As soon as we pushed open the heavy glass door and the bell suspended above it announced our arrival, my father would stop what he was doing, wipe his palms on his apron and point in my direction. “Ah, it’s Rick!” he’d declare, like an emcee calling out the team captain skating onto the ice at the Forum. Then he began to crow. He would boast to whomever was around—Mrs. Lubov (one of the rich customers) as she placed her weekend order; or Vasili, the owner of the Greek bakery down the way; or Joe, the hobo who always seemed to be sitting on the plastic stool in the corner no matter the day or time, as if he were a permanent store mascot in the window. “This is my middle daughter,” my father would say, “she’s going to be a Professor.” The customers nodded and smiled, the way parents do when their three year-old proffers an imaginary teacup.
Within seconds, my friends and I were ushered to the back of the store behind the counter, between the freezer and wooden cutting block where the floor was cushioned with sawdust to absorb drips, grease and bloodstains from the meat. We knew the drill: we sat quietly on the old kitchen chairs against the wall until the store emptied out, whether it took 5, 10 or 25 minutes for my father to finish up with any customers who were waiting. Then he turned his attention to us.
“Okay, so what do you want to eat?” he’d ask with audible delight, as our eyes lit up with anticipation. He’d grab two Kaiser rolls from under the counter. Gemini I always asked for something unassuming like sliced turkey, but I’d go for my favorite, Montreal Smoked meat (made from Canadian Beef, of course). My father would slice the hunk of preternaturally pink flesh, its outside sheathed in a coating of slick black peppercorns softened by the smoking process, the thin sheets sliding out from beneath the swirling blade and onto his outstretched palm. With the rhythm of a dancer, he’d turn his hand over and slap each slice onto the open roll until he’d achieved a pile almost as thick as one of my school textbooks. Then he’d march into the freezer and pull out the jar of mustard he kept there for his own lunches, smear the meat with the yellow topping, and replace the rest of the roll over it.
[My dad on his 89th birthday, last year.]
The sandwiches were always too big for our gaping mouths no matter how wide we tried to open them, so we’d withdraw a few slices and eat them plain before turning back to the rest of the meal. When we were done, if we were still hungry (and even if we weren’t), my father would treat each of us to a piece of karnatzel, the long, cigar-shaped, spicy salami that hung suspended from hooks above the meat counter, drying out in the air and sweating drops of pink-tinged oil on the ground beneath them. With one snap of the thin log, we were each handed a hunk of the stuff to savor for another few minutes. The meat was crunchy, chewy and spicy, and I loved it back then.
With thanks and a pat on the back of the head, we headed out to the bus and the long ride home.
What I didn’t realize in those days, of course, was that my father’s absence at home grew from his desire to provide for his family, and in the store, he was expressing his love for me in the only way he knew how—by giving me food, the spoils of his labor. When I arrived for my occasional visits at the shop, I offered him the chance not only to show me off to his customers, but also to show me how he spent his days making a living.
Even though I don’t eat meat any more, I miss the times when I could drop in on my dad and observe him in his element; where he felt confident, efficient, capable and strong. These days, he struggles to regain his former vigor as his body ages even while his mind remains sharp and vibrant. I watch my elderly dad slowly shuffling across the hallway from bedroom to kitchen, where he hunches over the same kitchen table of my childhood, slowly cutting his dinner into small, manageable pieces.
These days, beef is scarce on his own plate, too. But the memories of those idyllic afternoons in the shop, when my father was still the boss of our house and king of the butcher shop, will forever remain in my heart. And with that memory, it still soars.
[Wouldn't you just love a bite?]
** For all you non-Ontario residents out there, the popular President’s Choice brand offers a line of sauces called “Memories Of. . . “
Veggie-Based, Gluten Free, Soy Free ”Beef” Jerky
This recipe is my tribute to the karnatzel in my dad’s shop, with a taste and texture very much like the spicy, chewy meat I remember. Don’t be deterred by the long ingredient list–this comes together very quickly and then sits in the oven while you can do other things.
These strips would make a great snack on the road, as, once they’re dried, they will keep for a long time. Having made this recipe twice now, I am convinced that it would be even better in a dehydrator. However, if you don’t have one, this oven method still produces a pretty stellar result.
1 medium beet, peeled and cut in chunks (about 4 oz/110 g unpeeled or 3.5 oz/95 g peeled)
1 large carrot, peeled and cut in chunks(about 3.5 oz or 95 g unpeeled, or 3 oz/85 g peeled)
1/2 small onion, cut in chunks
1 large clove garlic
2 Tbsp (30 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
1 Tbsp (15 ml) Bragg’s liquid aminos, tamari or soy sauce (use coconut aminos for a soy-free version)
1/4 tsp (1 ml) paprika (or smoked paprika, if you don’t use liquid smoke)
1/4 tsp (1 ml) fine sea salt, or less, to your taste
Preheat oven to 375 F (190 C). Line a 9-inch (22.5 cm) square pan and a cookie sheet with parchment paper; set aside.
Place all ingredients in the bowl of a food processor and process until very smooth–there should be no pieces visible. It will take some time, about 5 minutes, and you will have to scrape the sides several times, but eventually the veggies will release their juices and it will come together in a sort of paste, like this:
Spread the paste over the parchment in the pan, taking care not to extend the mixture beyond the edges of the parchment. Bake in preheated oven for 30-35 minutes, or until the top is dry. Remove from oven and lower heat to 325 F ( C).
Invert a wooden (or other heatproof) cutting board over the pan and flip the jerky and parchment onto it. Peel off the parchment and cut the square into strips about 1 inch (2.5 cm) wide (the crinkly texture you see in the photos is due to the parchment paper wrinkling as the jerky mixture bakes). Place them on the parchment-lined cookie sheet and return to the oven for about 30 more minutes, until the strips are dried out but still flexible. If some of the strips dry out faster than others, remove those first and allow the rest to keep baking until they all reach the desired texture. Allow to cool completely before eating. Store, covered in the refrigerator, up to 3 days. Makes about 8 strips.
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