[Before I launch into today's post, I wanted to thank everyone for their kind wishes for poor, accident-prone Elsie!  Our Number One* Girl is doing much better, thanks--still limping a little, but infinitely less than that first scary evening.  While her gait has improved, her mood hasn't quite, as she has to stay behind with boring Mum every morning while Dad and Chaser go romp in the park.  But one more week, and she'll be on the walking trail again, too. ]

Remember when you were a kid and you yearned to have the same toys (or clothes, or packed lunches) that all of your friends had?  And in an effort to teach you deferred gratification, your parents would respond to your imploring by saying, “And if Susie’s parents let her jump off the Golden Gate Bridge, would you want to, too?”  In our house, it was different.  If one of my sisters or I requested something that all of our friends already had, my parents’ perfunctory response was, “NO.” (My Dad’s idea of deferred gratification was “deferred until you can afford to pay for it yourself.” Hmm.  May explain why I started babysitting at the ripe old age of eleven).

Since I could never cajole my parents into getting me what I wanted anyway, I developed a determination to stand apart from my friends and covet less popular items.  I couldn’t very well not like The Monkees, of course (you couldn’t be a kid in the 60s and not like them), so I worshipped Mickey instead of Davy (totally radical, I know).  Like all my friends, I bought (with my babysitting money) the sought-after designer jeans–you know the ones, that proclaimed their exclusivity loudly and clearly with a playing-card sized label just above the fanny cheek–and then I boldly cut off the label (can you imagine? I was so rebellious that way.). 

In university, I inevitably fell for the slightly oddball character, someone who, let’s imagine, had been born to a French hooker in Sudbury, had been orphaned at age 12, had raised their younger sister on their own, had worked as a miner and was now studying to be a customs officer. Oh, wait. That actually was my first boyfriend.  Later on, I fell for the boyish charms and rapier wit of Rocker Guy (he of the black leather pants). And let’s not forget the HH, the human synthesis of artist genius and science geek, man of few words (and most of those requiring a dictionary to understand), reluctant dog dad turned canine caretaker extraordinaire, and simultaneously the smartest, funniest, and most eccentric human being I’ve ever met.  

The food-blog world has its own trends, too.  For a while there, kale  chips were (or maybe still are!) all the rage.  There was a time when I felt as if faux tuna salad was on almost every blog I read.  Or how about the now-ubiquitous cake pops? And where would we be, tell me, without pumpkin and/or almond butter-laced oatmeal? (One of my favorite trends, though not about food per se, was the “blog meme.”  When I was tagged for the ”25 Random Things About Me” meme, I got carried away and wrote 101 things.  As I mentioned at the time, I guess that will take care of the meme for a while!).  

Well, when I saw Mihl’s recipe for Yeasted Zucchini Pie with Herbed Pepita Cream Cheese Filling, my ten year-old self was resurrected and I immediately thought, “I want that, too!  Yum!!”  Clearly, with its hunter green shellac and creamy alabaster interior, zucchini is the hipster veg on the culinary scene for August, 2010.  And the ingenious mix of ingredients in Mihl’s distinctive filling fulfilled my inner desire for creative departure from the norm. 

Since the crust was yeast-based, I knew immediately that I couldn’t make it as originally presented. However, I had seen a quiche a while back with a shredded potato crust and thought that would pair brilliantly with the herby filling.  After preparing the crust, I discovered that I was out of firm tofu, so used MoriNu as the stand-in (just to be different, I suppose).  It worked beautifully, resulting in a slightly creamy, slightly grainy filling with a subtly sour undertone, like ricotta or cottage cheese.  The inclusion of basil worked beautifully with the ground pepitas. And while I loved the trendy design formed by the zucchini slices atop the pie, I think that next time, I’ll simply chop the zucchini and fold it into the cheesy mixture before baking, both for convenience and for a more varied texture.

The finished pie reminded me of savory cottage cheese pies my mother used to make–rustic, hearty, and reminscent of late afternoons in the country. Paired with a simple Caesar salad, it made a pleasing meal as the HH and I sat at the kitchen table bathed in incandescent glow of late summer, shimmering interstices of sunlight peeking through the shutters.

“Well, it’s a bit unusual, but it’s good,” the HH remarked.  Takes one to know one, I thought–and just kept on eating.   

* in the sense of, “the one that preceded Number Two (Number Two being Chaser) and not in the sense of, “the one we like the best.”  Of course I could never favor one of my Girls over the other–duh!

And Also:

There are a few more happenings here on DDD that I’m excited about and wanted to share before I sign off! 

First of all, you can still contribute to this month’s SOS Kitchen Challenge, until August 31st!  If you’ve got a minty recipe that you’ve made recently or one you’re working on, please consider adding it to the SOS page for August!

I’m also gearing up for some really cool Back-to-School Giveaways on the blog over the next few weeks.  I’ll be talking about some products that I’ve tried and really enjoyed, along with the usual recipes and chance to win some great goodies for yourselves.  Whoo hoo!

Speaking of giveaways, if you didn’t win a free copy of my latest ebook, Desserts without Compromise, you can still buy it at a great discount until the end of the month.  Choose either ebook on its own, or pair them together and save even more!  For full details or to purchase, check here.

And finally, I’m always tickled when I see that someone else in blogland has tried one of my recipes.  So I thought I’d share some of them here with you! And if you’ve made a DDD recipe in the last little while and I’ve missed you here, please email (at dietdessertdogs AT gmail DOT com) to let me know so I can add your link to the roundup next time!

• Ashley’s take on Sweet Harvest muffins from Sweet Freedom
• Kiersten makes her own version of the Layered Mexican Casserole
• Alta spoons some delicious jam atop Grain-Free Coconut flour biscuits
• Sally whips up a gluten free version of Sweet Freedom’s  Butterscotch Blondies
• And Kiersten tries out a variation on Veggie Burgers that Are Made from Vegetables

I’m sending this recipe off to Amy of Simply Sugar and Gluten Free for this week’s Slightly Indulgent Tuesdays–it’s the One Year Anniversary edition, too! (Congrats, Amy!).  Go check out the other great entries in the event!  Oh, and don’t forget to hop back to Amy’s blog on September 1st–I’ll be guest posting that day!

Last Year at this Time: Flash in the Pan: Zucchini Bread Oatmeal

Two Years Ago: Banana Daiquiri Ice Dream (and cookbook review)

© 2010 Diet, Dessert and Dogs

THE CONTEST IS NOW CLOSED.  THANKS FOR ENTERING, EVERYONE!

It’s time for dessert–even if you don’t eat sugar, white flour, gluten, eggs or dairy!  That’s because it’s time for

Desserts without Compromise!

Buy the book this week at the special introductory price of $6.95 (regular price $9.95)–or, buy both ebooks (the previously published Anti Candida Feast plus Desserts without Compromise) for just $12.95!

For more details (and to buy one or both books), click here! 

And now for the giveaway. . . . . 

Because I’m so excited to share these recipes with you, I’m giving away FIVE copies of the ebook to celebrate its launch! To enter the giveaway, simply leave a comment at the end of this post telling me which dessert appeals to you the most!  For extra entries, you can follow me on twitter, “like” the Diet, Dessert and Dogs fan page , or retweet this giveaway on twitter, mention it on Facebook, or blog about it (for the last three, please link back to me, either at my twitter name, @rickiheller, or leave a comment on the FB wall, or a link to this page in your blog post).  Then please come back here and leave a separate comment for each entry–I know it’s a lot of steps, but it does help me to count out the entries more easily. 

A hydrogen atom walks into a bar.  He turns to the bartender and says, “I think I’ve lost an electron!”.  The bartender replies, “Are you positive?” [source: my Biochemistry prof at CSNN]

Ba-DUM-pa!  Yes, indeedy, I am a lover of corny jokes.  I giggle uncontrollably when I hear a good one, I hoard them for later use at dinner parties, I re-tell them whenever I get a chance.  That beauty up above, for instance, I’ve been saving since 2002 when I heard it in a classroom in nutrition school.

I inherited the “corn” gene from both my parents in equal measure.  My father is one of those people who has a joke at the ready for any circumstance.  Drop him into a group of people discussing the latest in cloning techniques, and he might pipe up with ”So, a geneticist and a sheep walk up to a bar. . . “  My mother, on the other hand, was the Queen of Sap, unparalleled in her ability to cry at pretty much anything and everything that touched on sentimental or mawkish.  A saccharine birthday card with “I love you” scrawled at the end?  Cue the waterworks.  A radio report about a German Shepherd saving its owner from drowning? Hand me that box of Kleenex, would you?  An über-corny made-for-TV movie that she didn’t even watch? Watch out for those puddles at her feet.

Question: What is green and sings? Answer: Elvis Parsley. [source: seventeen year-old Ricki, as an audience member on The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson, who was chosen to tell a joke on air.  Yes, folks, that is the only one I could think of, and I told it to millions of viewers across the country.]

The aforementioned movie incident occurred many years ago, and it’s a perfect illustration of my mother’s extreme sensitivity.  One weekend in high school when my friend Sterlin was sleeping over, we parked ourselves in the basement family room, splayed out on the carpet as we watched a chintzy made-for-TV movie called Message to My Daughter.  In a nutshell, here’s the plot: a young woman discovers a series of cassette tapes her (now dead) mother had made for her while she (the mother) was dying of cancer.  The movie skips between present-day scenes of the girl listening to the tapes and flashbacks of the mother as she records her pregnancy, her daughter’s toddlerhood, and her eventual decline from the disease.

In the final scene of the film, the young woman visits her mother’s grave.  Kneeling down before the tombstone, she whispers something like, “Mom, I never knew you, but you were the best mother a girl could ever have.  And I love  you.” 

Now, as it happened, our TV room was situated midway between the stairs leading to the upstairs and the laundry room, also in the basement. This particular Friday evening my mom was doing laundry, so she had to walk through the TV room two or three times as she went from the kitchen upstairs to the washer, back up to the kitchen, then back down again to the dryer.  Coincidentally, it was time to empty the dryer just seconds before that final graveyard scene.  My mother walked into the room, heard the words, “. . .but you were the best mother a girl could ever have.  And I love you,” and before Sterlin and I could say “Bounce dryer sheets,” my mother was frozen in front of the television, a stifled sob caught in her throat and tears streaming down her cheeks onto the folded towels she clutched to her chest.

Oh, yes, it took a while for her to live that one down, I’ll tell you.

A neutron goes into a bar and asks the bartender, “How much for a beer?”  The bartender replies, “For you, no charge.” [Joe Cassaletto]

Well, even though it seems I’ve inherited my mother’s predilection for corny sentiments (Is it soft and furry? Does it involve losing a prized possession, home, food, sentimental item?  Does an old person connect with a younger person? Does a young man offer a young woman a token of his affection?  Does a teenaged girl go to her mother’s grave and say, “Mom, I never got to know you, but I really love you”?–yep, I’ll cry at it, too), there is also a great love of corn–the edible kind–in the DDD household as well.

Although I can’t consume much of it on the ACD (it’s a restricted food), I have always loved fresh corn on the cob, ever since the days when everyone ate locally by default and real corn was a once-a-year treat.  My sisters and I all loved the nubbly batons with their succulent, sunny grains lined up perfectly like beads on an abacus.  At the same time, our elation was tinged with a touch of sadness, since their appearance also augured our return to school and the end of summer.

When I read about the evils of drinking, I gave up reading. [source: Henny Youngman]

And while I’ve made corn chowder before, I’ve never prepared a corn-based soup with kernels cut fresh from the cob.  This recipe is my adaptation of one I came across last weekend, when the HH and I spent a couple of nights up north and whiled away the time in front of a saltwater swimming pool, reading magazines.  It’s from Good Housekeeping, a publication I don’t read regularly, yet something about the creamy yellow base with its contrasting garnish and the sheer simplicity of the recipe appealed to me.  Something that fresh and oh, so corny–well, how could I resist? 

A helium atom walks into a bar. The bartender screams at it, “Hey!  You’re stinking drunk!”  The helium atom doesn’t react. [source: @Joan Rivers]

You’ll find the flavor here is just the right combination of sweet and smoky, with both the paprika and baked tofu offering a balanced pairing alongside the corn and potato.  Creamy, cool, and slightly sweet, this soup is a great way to bid summer adieu as we anticipate the autumn harvest.  The HH enjoyed this with some crusty bread, while I had it plain; as corny as it was, the soup was enough for me on its own. 

I thought this soup would be a great submission this week to Amy’s Slightly Indulgent Tuesdays.  The event just keeps growing every week–check it out, and submit something if you’re so inclined!

“Okay, I’ve got one, Mum!  Elsie walks into a bar and sits down on a bar stool and says to the bartender, ‘Give me my treats, NOW!”  And the bartender says, ‘Okay, here!’! Ha ha ha ha ha isn’t that a good one, Elsie?”

“Zip it, Chaser.  Honestly, do you think anyone would find that funny, when it could never happen in real life? I mean, everyone knows we’re not allowed up on the furniture.”

Oh, and don’t forget: the SOS Kitchen Challenge for August (focused on MINT) is still on until the end of the month–be sure to submit your mint-based recipes!  Full details here.  

Last Year at this Time: Nava’s Cool as a Cucumber Soup

Two Years Ago: Sweet Potato and Ginger Salad

© 2010 Diet, Dessert and Dogs

When my sisters and I were kids, my parents used to play Poker every Saturday evening with their group of friends. They’d play from around 7:00 to 9:00 PM, stop for coffee, snacks, and a gabfest, then continue with the cards for another hour or so before everyone headed home.

The group would rotate hosts, so that our abode was Poker Central once every month or so.  I always secretly dreaded when my mom’s best friend hosted (since we kids had to tag along–babysitters were too expensive) because she always served “salmon salad,” consisting of one can of salmon that had been hastily mashed with some Miracle Whip–skin, bones, and all–and it grossed me out completely (my mom, you see, would gingerly scrape the skin off the flesh and then carefully extract the soft needle-like bones and vertebrae before mashing up her salmon salad–with real mayonnaise, I’ll have you know.  It wasn’t until years later, living on my own, that I discovered my mother, and not her friend, was the anomaly.)

Canned salmon aside, the hosts also always served a generous assortment of  desserts, and we kids took full advantage of our parents’ reluctance to berate us in front of friends, helping ourselves to at least one of each sweet when they hit the table.  And in the realm of baked treats, my mother reigned supreme.

Despite what my teenaged self perceived as a sappiness and lack of self-confidence in my mum (which, as it turned out, was actually sappiness and lack of self-confidence), I always admired her ability to whip up a Farmer’s Cheesecake (one of my father’s favorite treats), cinnamon coffee cake or her (legendary, among her friends and our family) Chiffon Cake.

Almost a foot high and with an airy, spongy crumb, speckled throughout with shards of grated chocolate, the chiffon cake became Mom’s signature dish, highly anticipated at those weekend card games, expected at every holiday dinner, even transported across borders when we visited our American cousins, loosely swathed in aluminum foil and packed between multiple pillowy layers of paper toweling within not one, but two cardboard boxes, as if she were transporting blood samples, or a bomb.

The other staple in my mother’s baking repertoire was the classic chocolate chip cookie.  Every year during the holidays our kitchen turned into a cookie lab where my sisters and I would help Mom try out a dozen or so new cookies from the pages she’d torn out of women’s magazines or from her cookbooks. But Chocolate Chip Cookies were the regular Joe throughout the rest of the year, consumed on Sundays when we ate dinner with my aunt’s family, who lived upstairs; when we got home from school on weekday afternoons; or during those weekly Poker games.

Ironically, it was my dad’s Great Aunt Yetta, and not my mother, who taught me to bake my first batch of my favorite cookie. Great Aunt Yetta (about whom I wrote here), took over our kitchen the summer she lived with us (her planned two-week visit mysteriously morphed into a month, then six weeks; of course I thought my mum was rather sappy to let her stay, but for some unknown reason, her husband didn’t seem to miss her). 

I floated through that summer in Chocolate Chip Cookie nervana, baking them at least ten times during those six weeks.  I’d savor the raw dough, of course, even before placing it in mounds on the cookie sheets (still the best part of the procedure, in my opinion). Then I’d relish the just-baked treats, barely cool enough to handle, their edges crisping up even as the centers remained soft, dense and moist inside, with chips barely holding their shape, yet still warm enough to ooze onto your fingertips when you bit them.  

Classically sweet and chewy, with a buttery perfume of brown sugar–what could be better than chocolate chip cookies?

Of course, there was no question that I’d include a healthier version of the childhood classic when I decided to write my cookbook, Sweet Freedom, a couple of years ago.  Lacking the original refined sugar, fat and eggs of the prototype, the cookbook version is nonetheless dense inside and slightly crispy at the edges, boasting a combination of dates, Sucanat and maple syrup to stand in for the original eggs and butter.  After many trials, I was finally pleased with the recipe–and the cookies regularly sold out in the health food stores at which they were sold.

A few weeks ago, I taught a cooking class called “Gluten Free Classics” at a local Loblaws store.  The “classic” recipes I included were Two-Bite Brownies, Hearty Olive-Onion Bread, Lemon Blueberry Muffins, and–yep, you guessed it–Chocolate Chip Cookies.

I planned to demonstrate how easy it is to adapt conventional recipes to gluten-free versions by taking the original Sweet Freedom recipe and simply swapping gluten free all-purpose flour for the spelt.  As often happens, I found that a one-for-one swap (despite the instructions on the bag) doesn’t always work out as planned. Accordingly, I added just a bit of brown rice flour, for heft–and, what do you know–it worked perfectly! I couldn’t have been more pleased with the result. 

I’m happy to say these cookies are as good as the ones I used to bake, all those years ago.  The HH loved these, as did the cooking class participants. Indeed, these are chocolate chip cookies you’d be proud to serve to family and friends. 

Just please, promise not to serve them with canned salmon.  

This is my submission this week to Amy’s wonderful Slightly Indulgent Tuesdays event.  Why not submit something healthy of your own?

And a little reminder. . . Sweet Freedom is still on sale for one more week, at 30% off retail price (including taxes and shipping)!  Check this page to learn more or to order. 

Last Year at this Time: Feeling Snacky: Crunchy Stalks and Branches

Two Years Ago: Pre-Blog Entry Blog Entry

© 2010 Diet, Dessert and Dogs

After reading through the comments on yesterday’s SOS Challenge reveal post (this month’s ingredient is MINT and Kim and I can’t wait to see what y’all cook up with it!), I realized I may have sounded perhaps a wee bit whiney about everything that’s going on in my life right now.  I certainly didn’t mean to imply that I was on the precipice of a nervous breakdown (well, no more than usual, anyway) 

It’s true, I’ve got a lot going on right now.  But of course, I am also fully aware that it’s (mostly) of my own doing, too, as I keep adding more and more activities to my schedule.  Like so many women out there (and let’s face it, this is primarily a problem for women), I must learn to say “no” more often.  For my own physical and mental health.  For peace of mind.  For the others I care about in my life (because what good will I be to them if I’m a babbling puddle of melting goo?).

(“Um, Mum, sorry to have to break it to you, but you have no trouble saying “NO!” to us. None whatsoever.  And anyway, what’s so wrong about gently picking that leftover chocolate cupcake out of the garbage? You and Dad weren’t going to eat it.”)

In fact, my overflowing schedule was actually pivotal in this month’s choice of SOS ingredient; requesting mint-based recipes was really a selfish choice on my part.  After considering the overflowing patch of mint at the side of our house, I decided that I needed some creative inspiration to find recipes that would use it up. And so, I’m counting on all of you to save me by providing a huge array of awesome recipes!  So settle back, settle into your chef persona and start creating–use fresh, dried, or mint extract–your choice!

In the meantime, here’s my mint ice cream recipe, as promised. This is something I created so that those of us on the ACD (or with dairy, egg, gluten or sugar dietary restrictions) can enjoy ice cream in the summer, too.  Imagine: no more silent (or, in my case,  not so silent) suffering while your honey and friends gobble up the “real” thing!  This verseion is easy and, if you’ve got a food processor, really quick, too. The texture is silken smooth, creamy, and has just the right kick of mint. 

So go ahead–it’s real ice cream, and you can enjoy yourself with a clear conscience.  Now, if only I could clear my schedule as well.

And even though this ice cream truly does taste more than “slightly” indulgent, I’m submitting the recipe to Amy’s Slightly Indulgent Tuesdays event to showcase the healthy aspect of the recipe.  Hop over to Amy’s blog to see what else is on the list!

Last Year at this Time: ACD Update: A Return to Sweetness

Two Years Ago: Sweet Potato and Black Bean Bites (link to recipe)

© 2010 Diet, Dessert and Dogs

[A quick note and special request:  The VegNews Awards polls for 2010 are open!  If you like Diet, Dessert and Dogs or my cookbook, Sweet Freedom, please head to the site and add them to their lists!  You can nominate me for the blog, cookbook author or tweeter categories.  How great would it be for an allergy-friendly, whole foods site to top their lists? (And guess what?  Ms. Ellen is already nominated!  I sense that a meeting will be coming about somehow. . .    )  Your support is much appreciated, everyone!]

[Simple to make, delicious to eat: red lentil pâté]

The first time I purchased an ebook from Christy Morgan (aka The Blissful Chef), all I really knew about her was (a) she lived in LA; and (b) she cooked according to macrobiotic principles.  Well, since I’d studied the macrobiotic diet in nutrition school, I  knew it meshed very well with my own food philosophy and even the anti-candida diet (ACD), as it focuses on whole and local ingredients and traditional preparation methods. And as someone who’s been pining to return to LA (especially on The Ellen Show!) since my last visit there when I was 17, I was pleased to know that fact about Christy, too.

A few weeks ago, I bought the most recent in the “Cooking with the Seasons” series for summer. This is the second in a series of Christy’s ebooks that present recipes geared specifically toward each season.  In this ebook, Christy talks a bit about how summer is the “fire” season and why it makes sense to prepare foods that are fresh, mostly raw, quick and easy–to avoid the heat of the kitchen and preserve our energies for other activities during the warm weather.  She also discusses her approach to cooking, which she describes as “macrobiotic, vegan, raw fusion.”  The sixteen recipes in the ebook reflect that philosophy as well.

The first thing that struck me as I browsed through the recipes was that were so many in it I could eat–with no (or very little) adjustment.  Whole foods, low fat, easy preparation and nothing processed–these are the kinds of recipes that fit perfectly with someone on the ACD!

I decided to plunge right in with the ”Red Lentil Pâté with Cashews,” a quick and easy spread that’s perfect to serve to guests or for a light dinner.  This is a lovely appetizer with a light texture that’s quite different from the rich, nut-heavy spreads that are more commonly served as vegan pâtés; in keeping with the light summer theme, this recipe has no added fat (though the cashews do add some, of course).

I adored this pâté.  It works beautifully as a finger food or even–as I found myself snacking on it–straight from a spoon.  The preparation is super-simple (though you do need some time to let the mixture boil down).  I was skeptical at first about the amount of curry powder in this–it’s a full tablespoon–but once the mixture cooks up and the lentils begin to soften and dissolve, the final balance of seasoning is perfect.  Once cold, the mixture firmed up beautifully as well.

Serve this on crackers, as I did, or slice a thick block to have between slices of hearty bread, with some lettuce and sprouts for a great summer sandwich.

Next up was the “Fresh Herb Salad with White Peaches.”  Again, the ingredient list was mostly fresh, whole fruit and vegetables with flavorful fresh herbs as garnish. The combination of peaches, greens, and just-picked herbs sounded fantastic to me, and a great way to use seasonal produce and some of the  lovely basil from my garden. Although I couldn’t find white peaches, the final result with conventional fruit was strikingly colorful and vibrant, like a festive float at a summer celebration:

[Fresh Herb Salad with White Peaches--and this is an unretouched photo; the colors really are this intense!]

Finally, I cooked up the “Garden Fresh Millet Quinoa” for dinner;  I knew I couldn’t go wrong with two of my favorite grains.  Another quick and simple preparation resulted in a light, flavorful dish that was so much more than the sum of its parts.  A mélange of colors, flavors and textures contribute to a filling and satisfying meal that both the HH and I enjoyed immensely.

With other recipes like “Heirloom Tomato Bruschetta,” “Creamy Tomato Basil Bisque,” “Kale with Lemon Miso Dressing,” “Summertime Succotash,” or “Mixed-Berry Couscous Cake,” the book offers tasty, fresh ways to use your summer produce and stay cool in the kitchen. And at only $4.99 per book (or $7.99 for both!), Cooking with the Seasons: Summer is a great find.

To provide a sample of the book’s recipes, Christy has graciously allowed me to reprint the Red Lentil Pâté with Cashews.  If you enjoy lentil curry, you’ll love this.

Last Year at this Time: Lucky Comestible 5(4): Grain-Free Hazelnut-Cilantro Crackers

Two Years Ago: Flash in the Pan: Mex-Ital Tofu Scramble

© 2010 Diet, Dessert and Dogs

[Thanks, everyone, for your patience while my blog was undergoing some changes.  They're all done now--and I'm happy to offer you all a "print recipe" button so you don't have to copy and paste any more!  There are also more user-friendly subscribe buttons and comment threads.  What do you think of them?  And thanks again for all the great work, Alvin!]

One of the cardinal rules when throwing a dinner party is “don’t serve your guests a recipe you’ve never made before.”  (Also, “don’t wear white when you’ll be cooking with beets”;  “don’t seat ex-spouses next to each other at the table”; “don’t make Baked Alaska in July”; and “don’t leave the house without clean underwear”–oh, wait, that’s a different cardinal rule).

This past Saturday evening, I had the pleasure of cooking dinner for my friend Eternal Optimist and her friend.  So what do you suppose I did, friends?  Yep, exactly that; I served up something I had never made before.  I wasn’t truly cheating on the  rule, though, since I’d already cooked and eaten each of the dish’s components individually and knew they were, on their own, spectacular. 

What did I serve?  Why, the old classic: that Romance-infused, saucy, cheesy, meaty, stratified seductress, lasagna.

For the most part, I’m a pretty lazy cook.  I prefer meals that are ready before I can say, “Elsie and Chaser, get out of the kitchen,” and I don’t enjoy multiple steps or extremely detailed instructions.  Desserts and cooking for others is the exception, however. 

When I used to throw a bazillion dinner parties during my Social Thirties, I’d spend almost the entire weekend cooking and didn’t mind a bit.  Getting lost in the  whir of the electric beaters as I whipped cream for a multi-layered meringue-and-buttercream affair, or methodically chopping six onions for various dishes, or zoning out to the crackling sizzle of veggies sautéeing always felt therapeutic to me.  And while I’m not keen on lengthy preparation during the regular work week, when I whip up a special-request meal for the HH (for his birthday, or to say thanks for walking the dogs twice a day when my back is out, or to show my appreciation when he picks up baking ingredients from my favorite supplier, or to express gratitude for cleaning the house when friends are coming over–whoah, wait a sec, that HH sure does do a lot for me!), well, then a longer and more complicated process is even welcomed.  

I’ll tell you straight off the bat, this lasagna falls into the “food-of-many-components” category.  It’s not difficult per se, but it does contain many layers, and each layer requires its own prep.  If you happen to have prepared marinara sauce at the ready (or a good jarred type you like), prepared pesto, and meat in the freezer, then you can throw it together in no time, and there’s no worr–

WHAT?!! 

Did I just say, “MEAT”???!!!!

Now, now, calm down, people!  It may look like meat, and it may taste like meat, but it is not meat.  It is faux meat. This latest meaty substitute is just SO authentic, both in look and in flavor, that I simply forgot to specify–it’s entirely vegan! And SOY-FREE!

After creating a killer soy-free faux pepperoni a while back, I’ve been thinking about other ways to use vegetable bases to stand in for meat.  It’s not that I’ve hopped on the “soy-is-no-good-soy-is-awful-soy-is-the-Lucifer-of-legumes” bandwagon or anything; it’s just that, sometimes, you want something that isn’t soy. Especially with this lasagna (since it already contains tofu in the ricotta cheese), I wanted a no-soy “ground beef.” And so, this ground meat was born.

When I served the HH a big hunk of the lasagna, his immediate response was, “Ths turstes jess lak urrglrr lrzgne.”  (He was so impressed he forgot to swallow before speaking).  To translate, “This tastes just like regular lasagna.”  Whoopee! Considering that he consumes “regular” lasagna about once a month, his was high praise, indeed.  

I’m incredibly pleased with this vegan meat, and am already dreaming up different uses for it.  Scattered on nachos.  Bound together with some flax eggs and cooked as burgers.  Atop a huge mound of spaghetti arrabiata.  Or even as the base in a vegan tortiere, like so:

The possibilities are endless. . . my head is spinning with dinner party plans already.  Because, after all, the true cardinal rule is this: if it tastes great, eat it.

“Mum, are you sure that isn’t real meat?  We’d be happy to help you taste-test your recipes.  As you know, the cardinal rule for canines is, ‘if it’s not poisonous, eat it.’  Oh, wait, we might eat it anyway, even when it is poisonous. But don’t worry, I won’t go near that chocolate again.” 

This recipe is my submission this week to Amy’s Slightly Indulgent Tuesdays event.  Head on over to see what other healthy dishes are posted!

Last Year at this Time: Grilled Avocado on “Toast”

Two Years Ago: Mrs. K’s Date Cake (not an ACD-friendly recipe)

© 2010 Diet, Dessert and Dogs

Ah, kale.  How do I love thee? Let me enumerate the methods.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my stove can reach.  And also my wok.

I love thee sautéed with a hint of garlic and soy sauce.

I love thee to a level of spice that would top the Richter scale, lightly steamed with lots of chili peppers, ginger and chopped almonds.

I love thee purely, in the raw, with avocado and lemon and olive oil, with a passion that stems from our first encounter oh so many years ago.

On my hectic workday mornings, I love thee all stirred up and blended in a smoothie.

I love thee when I crave something snacky, all coated in a cheezy sauce. And, I have no doubt, I shall but love thee even better after dehydrating.

Yes, there are infinte ways to enjoy kale, and I never tire of the frilly, flirty, leafy green chameleon.  Kale is the Meryl Streep of green leafy vegetables; you can dress it up in an endless number of guises, it easily takes on the accent of any country on the globe, it’s comfortable exhibiting countless incarnations–but underneath it all, it’s still essentially the same, every time.

Kale brings to mind my friend Babe’s mother, who used to pad from bedroom to bedroom each night as she tucked in each of her four children.  After pulling up the covers and smoothing her child’s hair, she’d lean over and whisper, “I love you the most.”  That’s how I feel about kale.  No matter what the meal, no matter how it’s prepared, that’s the one I love the most.

And now, there’s a new favorite kale in town!  As a subscriber to the McDougall newsletter, I came across this salad recipe tucked inobtrusively behind the savory lentil spread, spicy garbanzo pinwheels, and balsamic strawberry dressing this month. What appears at first a mild-mannered, simple and uncomplicated dish belies the underlying complexity and subtle layering of flavors in this recipe.  And once again, the dressing is the true star of the salad.  It’s so good that  The HH and I ate an entire head of kale this way!

I’m thrilled to have another raw kale salad to recommend.  It’s so quick and easy, it’s crazy simple.  A perfect way to add fresh greens to your meal–or make it the meal itself, as we did.

Just like a great poem, this one’s destined to become a classic.

I’ve also submitted this recipe to this week’s Slightly Indulgent Tuesday, hosted by Amy over at Simply Sugar and Gluten Free as well as A Moderate Life’s Two for Tuesday blog hop.  Take a look at the other submissions, or submit your own!

Today’s Question: What’s your go-to recipe for a quick, reliable summer salad?

Hail to the Kale Salad (adapted from the McDougall Newsletter, June 2010), suitable for ACD Stage 1 and beyond

After polishing off the entire bowl, it occurred to me that the kale would have been spectacular if spread on a teflex sheet and popped in a dehydrator (or cookie sheet and low-temperature oven) to make my own kale chips.  I’m saving that for next time (but let me know if you try it!).

For the salad:

1 head of curly green kale, washed, dried and stems removed

For the dressing:

1/2 cup (120 ml) raw or regular natural smooth almond butter

1/2 cup (120 ml) water

2 Tbsp (30 ml) freshly squeezed lime juice (about one lime)

1-2 cloves garlic, minced, to your taste

about 1/2 inch (1.5 cm) piece ginger, peeled and minced

5 drops plain liquid stevia

1/4 tsp (1.5 ml) red pepper flakes

2 Tbsp (30 ml) sesame seeds, raw or lightly toasted

Finely chop the kale and place in a large bowl.

In a smaller bowl, whisk together the remaining ingredients except for sesame seeds. Pour the mixture over the kale and toss well to coat.  Sprinkle with sesame seeds and serve. Makes 4-6 side servings or 2 main course servings.

© 2010 Diet, Dessert and Dogs (http://dietdessertndogs.com)

Last Year at this Time: Lucky Comestible 5(3): Confetti Quinoa and Wild Rice Salad

Two Years Ago: Minted Peach and Corn Salad (ACD adaptable)

© 2010 Diet, Dessert and Dogs

Remember that first blush of new love, those early days when you were still keen to learn every little thing about your sweetheart?  A casual glance around the back yard revealed the emerald hue of the grass, the red of the tomato plants, the coral of the peonies all mysteriously so much sharper and more intense, as if your world had suddenly graduated to HD.  The woman at the A & P checkout was actually friendly for once, even smiling when she returned your change.  Even your office cubicle, previously no more than a cramped, beige, barren receptacle, seemed to brighten a little, become a source of personal pride and production.  

Ah, the unblemished enthusiasm of a new relationship, when you were still willing to do almost anything to please your partner. You want to go see the movie 10,000 BC?  Sure, I’d love to, I’ve always been a huge fan of big game hunting!  There’s an exhibit at the Science Center on “The Demographics of Star Trek: From Vulcan to Romulin and Beyond”?  Well, count me in, I’m just fascinated by the mating habits of those pointy-eared dudes!  Can we spend the weekend at my buddy Alfie’s helping him rebuild his 1972 Corvette engine?  You betcha! Grease and metal–two of my favorite things!

In those early days, you would never dream of  facing your beloved without having showered, shaved, or styled your hair. Mascara was meticulously applied; earrings carefully chosen to complement the pattern of your (new) skirt.  And forays to Victoria’s Secret became a regular occurrence, so you could invest in frilly unmentionables you likely would never have glanced at otherwise (though I’m sorry, I could just never get behind the thong craze.  Or get it behind me, either, for that matter). 

Eventually, of course, you both relax and become accustomed to being together. Really, why bother with contacts the minute you leap out of bed, if you’re just reading the paper in your flannel robe at the kitchen table sipping coffee?  And this old Counting Crows T-shirt is so much more comfy than those slippery, frilly babydolls, isn’t it? And let’s face it, cotton briefs just feel better under jeans.  It’s the weekend–does it really matter if you walk the dogs in sweats and runners, or if you postpone that shower until after you’ve finished your gardening?  You’re just going to sweat again, anyway.

Well, during those first starry-eyed few months of our relationship, before we both abandoned the faςade for good, the HH was still making an attempt to impress me.  Um, let me rephrase that; it was probably more like during the first month or so that the HH was occasionally trying to impress me.  Okay, maybe not a whole month.  All right, fine; it was only once.  But that one time was very impressive.

You see, the HH’s notion of “impressing me,” like his notion of everything else, was atypical. He isn’t one for flowers (which he has bought for me a total of two times in our 13 years together); or for giving me chocolates (twice); or jewelry (once).  No, the HH’s concept of “how to impress a gal” was to cook for me.  And, also characteristic of the HH, he went all out, planning a four-course dinner for me–and six guests.

I won’t get into the details, but suffice it to say that the “only” place he could buy his meat (this was during my physician-ordered “return to meat” phase, during my first candida cleanse; I’m smarter now) was the most expensive market in the city, and since he didn’t own any kitchen utensils or equipment, he bought them there, too, and since the recipe required a very expensive, French, red wine, he picked that up as well, and. . . 11 hours and a full week’s paycheck later, eight of us enjoyed a massive feast and hugely successful party that carried on until the single-digit hours of the morning.

The HH has never cooked since.

For my part, I felt I had to reciprocate.  Throwing dinner parties in those heady days of my “social thirties” was no hardship, but I knew the dessert had to be spectacular.  I happily put together a menu and spent the weekend cooking.  And while I have no recollection of the main course that evening, I do recall that this salad kicked off the festivities, and became a repeated feature at parties all that summer. (Of course I remember the dessert as well: a towering concoction that was part meringue and part genoise, its strata stuck together with alternating layers of mocha buttercream and chocolate ganache, topped with handmade chocolate lace decorations and gold dragees. It made an incredibly impressive end to the meal–and breakfast the next morning).

In addition to being aesthetically appealing with its variety of shapes and colors, the salad offers a light yet satisfying first course or side dish.  As we all know, it’s the dressing that “makes” a salad, and this one is magical. The jalapeno subtext underscores the fragrant, slightly sweet tarragon, all in tandem with the vibrant colors and textures of the veggies. You could probably sub almost any vegetables of your choice (I bet green beans and beets would go nicely), so feel free to change them up as you like. 

About a week ago, I stumbled across the recipe on a wayward magazine page as I was leafing through my recipe folders.  After a Proustian moment of salivating reverie, I decided to recreate the salad for dinner that night, grill or no grill.

As we sat across from each other at our unadorned kitchen table (the morning’s paper still piled off to the side), munching on the mélange of grilled veggies, herbs and seeds, the HH and I were momentarily transported back to that early summer of dinner parties and getting to know each other. 

“I remember this one,” the HH remarked, a dreamy smile on his face. ”This salad is terrific.”  I may have even detected the hint of a long-lost gleam in his eye.

He may have been sporting a three-day stubble and ragged college-era T-shirt; I may have been still wearing my workout gear and glasses (I don’t even own contacts any more); the salad may have been more work than we’re used to these days, but it was worth it.  

“Yes,” I replied, smiling at my sweetheart.  “I”d say it’s very impressive.”

This is also my very impressive contribution to Amy’s event, Slightly Indulgent Tuesdays, this week.  Go see what everyone else made!

 Grilled Vegetable Salad with Tarragon Dressing

adapted from Canadian Living magazine, September 2000

A great dish to make for a BBQ or buffet table. With its rainbow mix of colors and fragrant fresh herb dressing, this salad has something to please everyone.

Salad:

1 each yellow and green zucchini

1 each sweet green and red pepper, cored

1 large carrot, peeled

1 large eggplant

1/3 cup (80 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 jalapeno pepper, seeded and minced

1/4 tsp (1 ml) each salt and pepper

1/4 cup (60 ml) sunflower seeds, lightly toasted

Dressing:

1 Tbsp (15 ml) chopped fresh tarragon leaves

1 Tbsp (15 ml) fresh lemon juice

1 Tbsp (15 ml) balsamic vinegar (for ACD: use apple cider vinegar)

5-8 drops plain liquid stevia, to taste

2 green onions, chopped

1 small clove garlic, minced

pinch each, fine sea salt and pepper

1/4 cup (60 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic

Cut both zucchini, both peppers, carrot and eggplant lengthwise into 1/2 inch (1 cm) thick slices. In a large bowl, whisk together the oil, garlic, jalapeno, salt and pepper; add vegetables and toss to coat.

Place vegetables, in batches, on greased grill over medium heat; close lid and cook, turning occasionally, for about 10 minutes or just until tender-crisp. Let cool on cutting board and then cut into 2 x 1/2 inch (5 x 1 cm) sticks.  Set aside.

Prepare dresssing: In a large bowl, combine tarragon, lemon juice, vinegar, stevia, green onion, garlic, salt and pepper; gradually whisk in oil.  Add vegetables and stir to coat.  Serve sprinkled with sunflower seeds.  Makes 6 servings.  Will keep, covered, in refrigerator up to 2 days.

Last Year at this Time: First Loves: The Human, The Book and the Tofu

Two Years Ago: Sweet and Spicy Tempeh

© 2010 Diet, Dessert and Dogs

[Ah, if only I were truly still enjoying my salad days . . . in reality, I am firmly ensconced smack-dab in the middle of my "main course" days.  But you can enjoy this salad at any age!]

Now that summer is undeniably underway in these parts (nothing spells “summer” quite like a week of temperatures soaring beyond 33C/92F),  heavy duty cooking and baking seem so. . . unnecessary.  I find myself yearning for more raw foods, more fresh foods, and fewer baked goods at the moment (though ice cream cravings do still “scream” rather loudly).  

A heatwave such as we endured last week always takes me back to the first year the HH and I lived together, in a miniscule bungalow in the east end of town bordering Scarborough. Not the best neighborhood (there was a murder around the corner from our place, after which I never walked on that street again), the house was, nevertheless, the best we could afford at the time. 

Our home was a post-war structure, so tiny it effectively impersonated one of those Fischer Price dollhouses (sans a live toddler, of course). The living room was replete with dusty rose Pier One loveseat and 27 year-old console television, with no room for much else; the bathroom was so narrow that you had to turn sideways to brush your teeth; and the master bedroom, located directly above the (uninsulated) front porch, was an icebox in winter and veritable kiln in summer.

Now, if you’ve ever been to Toronto in the summertime, you will likely remember one important characteristic about this city.  No, it’s not the CN tower (no longer the tallest freestanding structure in the world).  No, it’s not Toronto’s reputation as the most multicultural city in the world (even though it is).  Not the fact that, for a couple of wild nights in June, 2010, its denizens blushed as the city lost its unofficial title of ”Most Polite Metropolis in North America.”  And not even that Jim Carrey, Mike Meyers, Alanis Morissette,  Eric McCormack, Howie Mandel and Rachel McAdams all hail from here, either. 

[No air conditioning?  This salad will cool you down on those 30C days!]

Nope, the most prominent feature of summertime in Toronto is the all encompassing, overwhelming, whacks-you-in-the-face-the-instant-you-exit-the-air-conditioning, humidity.  And as it happened during that first summer in our shoebox abode, the city suffered one of its hottest seasons in decades. With no air conditioning in the house, we were forced to rely on that age-old standard, the electric fan. 

Here’s the scene:  it’s 11:30 PM, and the temperature is still hovering around 30C (86F), 40C with the humidex. At the foot of the queen-sized futon (which on its own nearly fills the room) sits a dresser on which is perched two fans, one trained on me, one on the HH. In addition, a ceiling fan spins at high speed through the night, slightly off balance and wobbling like a magician’s spinning plate trick. To complete the fan club*, a free-standing fan is positioned on the floor off to the side so it sweeps across our bed every ten seconds or so.  We settle down for the night.

But we don’t sleep.  Even with our own little self-constructed Jet Stream, we endured a hellish, fitful seven hours, tossing and turning and perspiring so much that by morning our bed was practically transformed into a private indoor wading pool. (Okay, I exaggerate–but just a little.  The upside, I suppose, is that I lost 2 pounds that night).    

Happily, our current rental home came equipped with A/C, and, despite any residual guilt about the environment or the increased costs in summer (further enhanced this year by the lovely HST), we are glad we can use it when the humidex reaches 43C (110F), as it did last week.  And The Girls appreciate it, too.

“Yes, Mum, we do appreciate it. And since we have no sweat glands, it’s especially nice to be able to inhale that cool air from the vents and pant to lower our body temperatures. We like swimming, too–just don’t put us anywhere near that ’pool’ you just mentioned. Gross!” 

This type of heat leads to lethargy; add to that my marking-induced stupor and I just haven’t felt like cooking. 

Enter salads!

Since we’ve been eating salad almost exclusively throughout the past week, I thought I’d highlight a few of my very favorites over the next few days. To begin, today’s installment is a long-time standard from my friend and colleague Caroline Dupont’s cookbook.  Ever since I attended Caroline’s raw cooking classes back in nutrition school, I’ve loved this salad , a staple in our house over the warmer months.  I can’t believe I haven’t posted it before this!

The lively mélange of colorful, fresh and crispy vegetables and fruit marries beautifully with the slightly sweet and tart dressing.  Although I’m not a fan of fresh fennel, the ground fennel in this dressing adds just the perfect whisper of licorice to complement the juicy sweetness of the apples.  Every mouthful offers up a different parade of colors, flavors and textures to treat your palate to some first-class, sparkly raw gustatory entertainment (and a whole rainbow of antioxidants and healthy fats to boot). And it’s ready in around 10 minutes–without heat or any real physical exertion (except for the chewing–of which there will be quite a bit, I wager).  

The original recipe calls for raisins (I included them in the photo, which was the HH’s serving), and feel free to use them if you’re not following an anti-candida diet (which would be, um, the other 99.9% of you out there?). For those of us restricted to candida-busting regimens, there’s an ACD-friendly variation following.

* Sorry. I had to.

Today’s Question: What’s your favorite cooling meal in summer?

* * * * * * * * * *

Fruity Slaw (aka Cabbage Delight) for ACD Phase I & Beyond

adapted from Caroline Dupont’s Enlightened Eating

Dressing:

2 Tbsp (30 ml) apple cider vinegar

3 Tbsp (45 ml) extra-virgin olive oil, preferably organic

1 Tbsp (15 ml) light agave nectar

1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) fine sea salt

1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) ground fennel, or more to taste

Salad:

2 cups (480 ml) green or red cabbage, shredded, or a combination

3/4 cup (180 ml) broccoli or cauliflower, chopped

1/4 cup (60 ml) sweet onion, chopped

1 rib celery, diced

1 large carrot, grated

1/2 cup (120 ml) fresh parsley, chopped

1 medium apple (I used Crispin), cored and diced

1/2 cup (120 ml) raisins or currants, optional

1/2 cup (120 ml) pecans or walnuts, lightly toasted

In a large bowl, combine dressing ingredients and whisk to combine.  Add vegetables and toss to coat.  Sprinkle with raisins and walnuts.  Makes 4-6 servings.  Will keep, covered in the refrigerator, up to 3 days.

*For ACD Stage 1, substitute fresh lemon juice for the apple cider vinegar and 5-8 drops plain liquid stevia for the agave.  If you’re not having fruit, omit the raisins and apple , and sub grape tomatoes, if desired.

I’m also submitting this recipe to Amy’s Slightly Indulgent Tuesdays over at Simply Sugar and Gluten Free.  Go check out the other amazing submissions!

Last Year at this Time: Lucky Comestible 5 (1): Fresh and Spicy Cilantro Sauce

Two Years Ago: Zucchini & Pineapple Mini Loaves (with hidden avocado!)–for ACD maintenance only.

© 2010 Diet, Dessert and Dogs