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Dogs really are creatures of habit, aren’t they? I mean, every morning at precisely 7:02 AM (about 1-1/2 minutes after the HH slams off his alarm), Chaser bounds into our bedroom and lays a wet sloppy one on the HH’s ear (translation: “Dad, it’s time to get up! Get up, Dad, we need to go for our walk! C’mon, Dad! Let’s go! Just hop outa bed and take us! C’mon, what are you waiting for? C’mon—” etc.).
Then, at precisesly 1:15 PM every afternoon, Elsie saunters over to my desk and plants herself at my side, glaring (and if you’ve ever seen a Border Collie stare, you know the power of “the eye.”). If I continue to focus on the computer screen and tap away at the keyboard, she will tentatively and ever-so-gently poke me on the thigh with her moist, cold nose (more startling in summer when I’m wearing shorts, to be sure). Translation: “Mum, I feel I must inform you that the hour has arrived for our afternoon walk. Seriously, Mum, it appals me that you could forget this important hour of the day. After all, do we not go for a stroll each and every day of the week at this time? And are we not reliant upon you to take us? Now, please, offer us the courtesy of rising up from your chair and coming downstairs so that we may embark–right now.”
Yep, like I said, creatures of habit. Later, at precisely 4:53 PM every day, both Girls heave themselves off their respective pillows to pad into the office and station themselves on either side of me as I work, staring intently in a silent summons like bookmarked lawn gnomes. Translation: “Mum, it’s almost dinner time. Where the &%$!@ is our food?” (Okay, perhaps they weren’t as profane as that. But it’s always fun to imagine dogs cursing, isn’t it?).
Given that I was born in the Year of the Dog myself, it makes sense that I, too, am a creature of habit. Or, at least, I used to be. Before I met the HH.
Like South Park’s stance with Canada, I tend to blame the HH for my current shortcomings. Long before we met, in my twenties (also known as the Decade of Firsts, in which I first went to university, first lived on my own, and first met not one, but two true loves), I was incredibly organized and even followed an hour-by-hour schedule every day, permitting me to live through an entire university career without ever missing a deadline. Subsequently, during the Decade of the Dinner Party, I still managed a schedule jam-packed with socializing, full-time work, sewing my own clothes (!), and regular trips to and from Montreal.
Enter my 40s and the HH: not only did I meet my true love, but my lasting love. It was around that time–when the HH and I first moved in together–that chaos erupted. Okay, not chaos, exactly, but certainly the reorganizing of closets. And–even while continuing to throw dinner parties–going to bed without washing all the dishes first (gasp!). And being open to unplanned activities. And (and here’s where I blame the HH) the eschewing rigid schedules.
Well, despite his disdain for pre-planning or scheduling, the HH is his own uniquely habitual creature. Unlike me, he eats the same breakfast every day* (I prefer to rotate through 25 or so different options). The HH takes the dogs to the same park every morning (I switch it up between the park, the baseball field, the Mill Pond, and trail). The HH can listen to the same symphony over and over, sometimes for hours (I rarely listen to the same CD twice in a row–unless it’s a new, incredibly talented singer that I adore, of course).
Which brings me to today’s recipe (finally!). As you may recall, the HH and I used to keep a weekly date every Tuesday, wherein I’d meet him for a sushi lunch. But since the anti-candida regime I follow doesn’t permit sushi (no white rice, no vinegar, no sugar, blah blah blah), I’ve had to forgo our midday shared meal. Do I miss that sushi? You bet! (Well, and yes, I do also miss meeting the HH for lunch every week. . . but really, we do see each other every evening for dinner, and when we walk the dogs, and when we watch 30 Rock, and when we have brunch on Sundays, and when we tidy the house together before friends come over, and when we run errands on Saturdays, and when we. . . geez, maybe we’re overdoing this togetherness thing a bit, anyway).
I decided I’d whip up my favorite at-home sushi for lunch on my own. Since the original version wasn’t exactly ACD-friendly, I adapted; instead of the orignal sundried tomatoes (which are taboo on the ACD), I made my own semi-dried oven baked tomatoes. (Who says I can’t be flexible? No rigid recipes for this doglike gal!). Well, it worked beautifully. The rolls are (mostly) raw, grain-free, and reminiscent of salmon (in my memory, anyway). All I can say is, “domo arigato!” And it sure did feel great to get back to that old sushi habit, even if I shared it with The Girls instead of the HH.
“We enjoyed it, too, Mum. Thanks for sharing. But, um, didn’t I hear you say something about salmon?”
* A bowl of Raisin Bran with milk, if you’d like to know.
Raw Nori Rolls with “Salmon” Filling and Spicy Ginger-Miso Paste
adapted from a recipe from Enlightened Eating (spiralbound edition)
A great recipe for those avoiding grains or anyone seeking a delicious variation on sushi. If you’re not following an anti-candida regime, go ahead and make the original. The Miso paste can be enjoyed by anyone.
Nori Rolls:
3/4 cup (135 g) raw almonds with skin
1 pint (about 500 ml) ripe grape tomatoes
2 tsp (10 ml) light miso
1 Tbsp (15 ml) freshly squeezed lemon juice
2 tsp (10 ml) Bragg’s liquid aminos, tamari or soy sauce
freshly ground black pepper, to taste
cut vegetables for filling: zucchini, cucumber, carrots, avocado, daikon, green onion, etc.
2 sheets nori (sushi wrappers)
Spicy Ginger-Miso Paste:
1 Tbsp (15 ml) white miso
1/8-1/4 tsp (.5-1 ml) cayenne pepper, depending on desired heat
1 tsp (5 ml) toasted sesame oil
2 tsp (10 ml) finely grated fresh ginger
1 tsp (5 ml) freshly squeezed lemon juice
For the nori rolls:
Prepare the “Salmon” filling: Soak almonds in room temperature water for 8-12 hours. If you soak them longer, refresh the water after 12 hours and store in refrigerator for up to one more day. Drain and rinse before using.
Meanwhile, prepare the tomatoes: preheat oven to 300F/150C (or, for a completely raw dish, heat to 115F/45C or use a dehydrator). Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper, or grease with extra virgin olive oil. Cut each tomato in half and place cut side up on the baking sheet. Bake in preheated oven 1-2 hours, checking every 20 minutes after the one-hour mark, until tomatoes exude most of their juice and begin to shrivel and brown slightly. (If using a dehydrator, dehydrate until shrivelled).
Place drained almonds, tomatoes, 2 tsp (10 ml) miso, 1 Tbsp (15 ml) lemon juice, Bragg’s and black pepper in the bowl of a food processor and process until almost smooth. Set aside.
Prepare the Paste: in a small bowl, mix together all ingredients with a spoon until well combined and smooth.
Assemble the rolls: Spread about half of the miso-ginger paste over the nori sheet, spreading to the edge on 3 sides, leaving about 1/2 inch (2.5 cm) empty on one edge. Top with about half the salmon spread. Place 3-4 rows of desired vegetables along the edge opposite the empty edge, like so:
Next, use a sushi mat or just your hands, roll tightly starting at the edge with the cut vegetables. When you reach the empty stripe at the end of the nori sheet, moisten it with a bit of water and then roll up, leaving the seam down (against the table). Cut into 5-8 pieces. Repeat with second nori sheet. Makes 2 servings.
Totally unrelated note: One of today’s Google searches leading to my blog read, “Die Dessert Dogs.” Is that a typo, or just a really ticked off blog reader?
Last Year at this Time: The Biscuit and the Scramble (to Woo Your Rake)
Two Years Ago: Sweet Potato and Chocolate Chip Mini (or not) Muffins
© 2010 Diet, Dessert and Dogs
[Sometimes, you just want to eat something now. I've decided to offer a mini-post every once in a while, for a dish that comes together incredibly quickly or else is so easy to make that no recipe is required. Here's today's "Flash in the Pan." (For other FitP recipes, see "Categories" at right).]
For some reason, I seem to be a little lethargic this year when it comes to dispensing the holiday cheer. It’s not that I’m begrudge anyone else their cookie exchanges, or tree-ornament earrings, or constant Muzak carols, or Santa Claus shower curtains.* It’s just that I haven’t been able to muster the spirit of the season to partake in those things myself. Sniff!
True, the HH is one of those people who’d rather not make a fuss over the holidays (or, hmm, anything, come to think of it). So I am usually the instigator when it comes to setting up our little tree, decorating the house, wrapping and putting out presents, or planning a festive feast. This year, though, I’ve been dragging my feet.
Could it be that my loathing of winter has finally superceded my adoration of the holidays? Could it be that the HH and his laissez-faire attitude have finally exerted their influence on me? Could it be that the infernal interloper, the ACD–who showed up unexpectedly last winter and now refuses to leave until all my candida symptoms are eradicated–has put a damper on the season? (Well, even I have to admit that it’s a tad more difficult to cook up a traditional feast–complete with holiday sweet treats–on this diet. Which is why I’ve been working really hard on a slew of holiday and festive recipes–including ACD-friendly desserts–that I’ll be offering in an ebook in just a couple of days!).
Unlike last year, when I went a wee bit overboard creating all manner of gastronomic gifts, I just haven’t immersed myself in the spirit as of yet (I suppose being unable to imbibe any type of spirit this season may have something to do with it as well). It’s amazing how many homemade gifts are meant to be sweet, or baked, or desserts, isn’t it?
But then it occurred to me–what about all the other delicious foods: condiments, seasonings, dips, spreads, dry soup mixes–that could constitute gifts? And suddenly, the spirit of Christmas Present touched me once again. Whoo-hoo! Time to get to the kitchen!
I’ve decided to give a few homemade, foodie gifts this year, even if I can’t eat them all. Into the mix will go ACD-friendly recipes as well, but only if anyone could appreciate them. This pesto falls into the latter category.
A milder take on conventional (basil-and-pine-nut) pesto, this cilantro based version is extremely versatile and very tasty. I originally created the recipe because I wasn’t allowed many alternatives on the ACD and wanted to use Brazil nuts–one of the only nuts I could eat–in a novel manner. Now, I must admit, I like it at least as much as “regular” pesto, if not more. And the beauty of this recipe is that it’s incredibly quick and easy; just blend, scoop into a clean jar, label and wrap for a perfect hostess gift, treat for a co-worker, or stocking stuffer.
Slather the pesto on crackers for a quick snack, or toss with your favorite grain for an instant pilaf. As in the photo, below, you can also toss with still-warm potatoes, grape tomatoes and sliced green onions for a delicious winter potato salad. I also like this tossed with freshly steamed kale.
Don’t you feel like hopping right up and starting to make some foodie gifts right now? I’ll race you to the kitchen.
Now, that’s the spirit!
“Mum, it’s not true that Dad never makes a fuss over anything–he fusses over us all the time. Just try wagging your tail and kissing his hand when he comes home from work, and he’ll make a fuss over you, too.”
* Honestly, I wouldn’t have even known such things existed, except The Nurse actually owns one of these!
Brazil-Nut Cilantro Pesto
Use as you would any pesto, in pasta, soups, or as an appetizer on crackers.
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 cup (120 ml) halved Brazil Nuts
1 cup (240 ml) very loosely packed cilantro leaves, or use a combination of cilantro and parsley
2-3 Tbsp (30-45 ml) extra virgin olive oil, as you like
1 Tbsp (15 ml) freshly squeezed lemon juice
pinch fine sea salt
In a small food processor, blend together the garlic and nuts until crumbly. Add remaining ingredients and blend until smooth but still grainy. Store in an airtight container in the refrigerator up to 10 days. Makes about 1 cup (240 ml).
Last Year at this Time: Gastronomic Gifts III: Marzipan-Topped Shortbread Cookies
Two Years Ago: Pumpkinseed Shortbread Buttons (gluten-free)
© 2009 Diet, Dessert and Dogs
[I thought it would be fun to run a little series over here at DDD: I'll profile one one of my favorite foods, or a food that I've recently discovered and enjoyed, over several days. The series is presented on an occasional (and entirely arbitrary) basis, before I move on to the next lucky comestible. This is the fourth entry on apples.]
After reading all your comments about the Apple and Red Wine Soup the other day, I began to wonder if perhaps I’d been a tad hasty in my panegyric to the soup. Was I too effusive in my praise? I mean, it’s just soup, right? And soup is just food. So what if it has caramelized onions in it? Onions, soft and browing at the edges, infusing the room with their sweet, enticing aroma. And apples, sautéed to golden, yielding perfection, tart and tender and melding with those onions. Oh, and let’s not forget the added piquancy of red wine–a good, hearty, robust wine that would be great on its own, but added to the soup, it creates a rich, thick, beguiling first course—heck, forget that apology! I LOVE THAT SOUP.
Okay. I am now done with the soup. Promise.
But before I move to the main course, I wanted to say “THANKS” for an award from Ashley at Eat Me, Delicious–I’ve been so focused on apples that I forgot to mention it last time! Thanks so much, Ashley, for the “One Lovely Blog Award”! It is much appreciated (and you know I’d love to cook meals for you–come visit!)  I’m supposed to pass this along, but there are so many blogs I love to read that I really can’t choose. I mean, that would be like choosing between Elsie and Chaser. And isn’t “demure, gentle and sweet” just as appealing as “wacky, hilarious and in-your-face”? Each has its own charms. And so, you are all Lovely Blogs!
I know, you’re thinking, “Okay, so now can we eat that main course?!” Mais, oui, bien sur!
To be honest, this dish was originally intended as an appetizer or side dish, but the “real” main course I attempted a few nights ago was, shall we say, never going to earn a star on the Culinary Wok of Fame. I’ve got a new one in the works, and if it’s a success, we’ll relegate today’s recipe to the back of the table and I’ll post about a new main. Otherwise, it’s time to dig in to terrine!
Whenever I take to whining and whinging about the frigid winters here in Toronto, some smart aleck inevitably pipes up, “But you’re from Montreal! How can you not like winter?!” Well, take it from me, bud, just because you’re born somewhere doesn’t guarantee that you love the climate. (Do you think the polar bears at the Florida Zoo feel like sunbathing?)
And it’s not just the weather (though for the life of me, I will never understand the appeal of minus 30C, snow up to your waist, icicles dangling from your scarf, or having to wear those metal cleats on the bottom of your boots to prevent falling flat on your derrière when you walk two dogs every afternoon). No, it’s also the unrelenting gloom (today’s forecast: gray. Tomorrow: dark gray. After that: whitish gray. Next day: deep gray–etc.), the ridiculous quantity of layers required to prevent frostbite of the extremities; the woolen toques that flatten your hair in thin, swirly wisps that adhere to your forehead; the traffic at a near-standstill every time it snows; the ever-shorter window of daylight, when darkness slams down in a matter of seconds, like a guillotine.
So it’s not an exaggeration to say that I seriously dislike cold. Which works out pretty poorly for me every year between, say, mid-October and the beginning of May. But it worked out extremely well, on the other hand, for this potato terrine.
A while back I spied a recipe for a layered potato terrine with apple and camembert cheese and decided to create my own version, with potato, apple and my favorite goat “cheese” (since, as you may have guessed by now, I’m a little bit obsessed with that cheese). So far, so good.
While the process was fairly involved, it wasn’t difficult, and I had no trouble assembling all the ingredients, layering them in the pan, allowing them “settle” overnight or unmolding the terrine the next day. I was pleased with the fairly compact slices, even without the inclusion of melty camembert to bind them together.
The HH and I sat down, ready and eager to dig in to our (cold) first course. A tentative first bite, and then. . . I pushed the plate away. It wasn’t awful; just nondescript: white on white on off-white on beige (well, it did sort of resemble snow that way. . . ). Curses!
But then it occurred to me–maybe it was those cold potatoes? Great in a salad, but in a terrine. . . well, not so much. I grabbed the plates and popped them in the oven to heat through. Ten minutes later, the HH and I were digging in to a wonderfully warm medley of sweet and salty, with tender spuds offering a perfect base for rich cheese and tart apple. Warmed up, this dish really excelled, appealing to the palate in a way that was entirely lacking in the cold version.
The terrine could serve as a delicious main course alongside a crisp side salad (maybe something like the first one in this post), or some bright, barely steamed broccoli or green beans to add color and textural interest.
And while I know the dish was really intended to be served chilled, I much prefer my version. Like everything else at this time of year, I simply couldn’t abide the cold.
To all my American readers and friends, HAPPY THANKSGIVING!
“Um, Mum, what did you mean by ‘in-your-face’? That sounds annoying to me, Mum. As if I keep badgering you when I want to play ball, or as if I whine a lot when I want to play frisbee, or as if I howl at you when you sit at your desk trying to blog because I want you to toss my pull-toy, or as if I nip Elsie’s face and ears when I want her to play with me, which is pretty much all of the–”
“Just zip it, Chaser. *sigh*. “
Potato Terrine with Apples and “Goat Cheese”
adapted from Homestyle Vegetarian
While it does require a bit of advance preparation, this is a lovely dish to wow the guests. Unmold the whole terrine on a platter, then slice in thick pieces at the table.
1 recipe Cashew Goat Cheese (or your favorite cheese–one that melts would, in fact, be even better in this recipe)
about 2 pounds (1 kg) new potatoes, peeled
3 granny smith apples
2-4 Tbsp (30-60 ml) coconut oil or other light-tasting oil, preferably organic
2 Tbsp (30 ml) chopped fresh parsley
freshly ground pepper
Line an 8″ (20 cm) loaf pan with waxed paper and set aside.
Boil the potatoes in a large pot of salted water until just soft, about 15 minutes. Drain and cool.
Once the potatoes are cool, cut them into thick disks about 1/2″ (1 cm) thick. Heat about 1 Tbsp (15 ml) of the oil in a nonstick pan over medium heat; cook the potatoes until just golden, then turn and cook the other side, adding more oil as necessary. Remove to a plate that has been lined with paper towels to drain.
Core and slice the apples into 1/4″ (5 mm) thick rounds. Heat another 1 Tbsp (15 ml) coconut oil in the pan and cook the apple until golden but not mushy. Drain on paper towel.
Preheat oven to 350F (180C). Arrange a layer of the potatoes in the pan, then top with a layer of apples and a layer of cheese (you can try to spread the cheese over the apples, or just place dollops of it evenly across the surface). Sprinkle with half the parsley. Repeat the layers, then finish with a final layer of potatoes.
Cover the pan with foil, sealing well. Bake in preheated oven until heated through, 30-40 minutes. Remove from oven and allow to cool slightly.
Place a piece of cardboard on top of the foil covering the pan, and put weights over the cardboard (I used cans of tomatoes) to compress the layers. Refrigerate overnight. Unmold and slice into thick slices to serve cold. To serve warm, remove cans, cardboard, and foil; reheat in 350F (180C) oven for about 20 minutes, until warmed through before slicing. Makes 4-6 servings as a main course, or 6-8 as a side dish. Best eaten within 2 days.
Last Year at this Time: Curried Root Vegetable Chowder with Dumplings
Other Posts in this Series:
Other Apple-Based Recipes You Might Enjoy:
Other Lucky Comestibles:
© 2009 Diet, Dessert and Dogs
[I thought it would be fun to run a little series over here at DDD: I'll profile one one of my favorite foods, or a food that I've recently discovered and enjoyed, over several days. The series is presented on an occasional (and entirely arbitrary) basis, before I move on to the next lucky comestible. This is the first entry on apples.]
Honestly, where does the time go? Here we are on November 5th–but wasn’t yesterday Halloween? Now that I finally seem to be clawing my way out of my flu funk, the days are whizzing by (if only they’d whiz directly to mid-April–do not collect $200, do not pass snow–that would be great. I, for one, could do without winter.)
Well, whether we want to or not, at this point most of us are thinking ahead to the holidays. With that in mind, I’ve got two great suggestions before I turn to today’s Lucky Comestible.
If you’re looking for some delicious holiday-themed dishes, take a look at Nava Atlas’s A Bountiful Vegan Thanksgiving ebook. At 78 pages, it contains a slew of recipes, from appetizers and soups to salads, side dishes, entrées, stuffings, sauces, and desserts. While most of the recipes are Nava’s own, she also includes dishes from ”guest” chefs like Beverly Lynn Bennett, Fran Costigan, Dreena Burton, Isa Chandra Moskowitz, Robin Robertson and Susan Voisin, among others (and two recipes by yours truly!). I was thrilled to receive my copy and even though we’ve already celebrated Thanksgiving here in Canada, I still saw lots of recipes I can serve up at Christmas time and through the new year. Best of all, profits from the book are all going to some of Nava’s favorite charities. Click here for more info or to buy.
And don’t forget that Sweet Freedom is on sale until the beginning of December! With over 100 recipes for all your favorite sweet treats made healthy (plus a few unexpected goodies!), you can have your cake this holiday season, and great health, too. The book would also make a wonderful gift, and can be signed for the recipient. Just click on the book cover at left or the Cookbook link at the top of the page for more info or to purchase.
And while I was thinking about the holidays, I decided on the focus of this sixth Lucky Comestible series. Although I love pumpkin and have a few recipes that include it on this blog, there’s never a shortage of pumpkin-based recipes at this time of year. I got to thinking about other autumn produce and how I could incorporate it into my holiday menus. And since I’ve recently seen the return of limited fruits to my culinary repertoire, I immediately decided to highlight one of these not-so-sweet beauties in my next Lucky Comestible series. And then it hit me–why not apples?
I mean, apples are, in a way, the original fruit (though technically those naked lovers did gorge on pretty much every other fruit before they bit into that MacIntosh). And it’s true what they say–your daily Granny Smith could very well be a means to protecting your health. Apples are also visually appealing, tasty, portable snacks; and, I daresay, they are probably the single fruit consumed by the largest number of people. They’re sort of like the Miss Congeniality of fruits. In fact, they’re actually the Sally Field of fruits–we like them! We really, really like them. How many people don’t enjoy apples?
Far from being a mundane pleasure, then, apples are a healthy indulgence that come in a variety of shapes, sizes, and appellations. Of course, we’re all familiar with cute little Granny Smith, with her tough exterior and tart insides, or the sweet and delicate Delicious varieties. But how about the Scarlet O’Haralson or Summer Rambo? Apples take on Hollywood! If you’re curious about all the names bestowed upon this common fruit, check here.
Apples are also associated with myriad historical facts and trivia. For an amazingly comprehensive list of all things apple, check out this incredible post by Johanna of Green Gourmet Giraffe (Thanks, Johanna!).
Of course, we all know how versatile the forbidden fruit is in terms of flavor combinations; besides the seminal apples and cinnamon, apples can chum around with savory curries, sweet spice mixtures, your choice of alcoholic beverages, caramel, and even chocolate. It’s also a flexible ingredient that contributes equally well to any course of a meal. So I thought it would be fun to run the gamut of courses, featuring an apple-based dish spanning appetizer to soup to main course and dessert.
Ready for your appetizers? Let’s begin with this astonishing roasted red pepper and apple dip. Wouldn’t this look beautiful on a holiday buffet table?
This recipe hails from Nicole Routhier’s Fruit Cookbook, a massive tome that’s been wedged in my cookbook book case between Meena Pathak’s Indian Cooking for Family and Friends and the Moosewood Low Fat Favorites for almost a year without stirring (pun intended. Oh, and that reminds me, I really need to organize my cookbooks already). A book based on fruit recipes seemed perfect for my apple quest, so I pulled it from the shelf and began to browse. The original dip was intended for grilled shrimp, but we had it over grilled tofu with favorable results. It would also go exceptionally well spread on crackers, or as a base in either a grilled eggplant or avocado sandwich (or both together).
The alluring triad of smoky peppers, tangy Granny Smith, and fiery chili flakes was enough to win my heart (and my taste buds)–after enjoying this spooned over tofu, I took to spooning it straight from the container and into my salivating maw. One part chutney, one part part salsa, and one part jam, this is a perfect spread for almost any food. With a cheery orange blush (perfect for the season!) and slightly grainy texture, the dip looks beautiful mounded in a serving bowl and struck me as a fitting centerpiece for a platter of simple sweet potato “fries.” Let the holiday menus begin!
(And stay tuned for a very festive giveaway coming up next post!) 
Roasted Red Pepper Dip
from Nicole Routhier’s Fruit Cookbook
A versatile dip that works well with roasted vegetables, tofu, or burgers. This would also be great tossed with pasta or spread in a sandwich.
4 medium red peppers, roasted (you can roast them yourself or just use prepared ones), chopped
1/2 cup (120 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
4 tsp (20 ml) minced garlic
2 tsp (10 ml) dried red pepper flakes (or less, to taste)
1/2 cup (85 g) natural almonds, lightly toasted
1/4 cup (60 ml) red wine vinegar (for ACD variation, use lemon juice)
1 tsp (5 ml) sugar, or 3-5 drops stevia liquid
1/2 Granny Smith apple, peeled, cored and chopped
salt and pepper, to taste
Heat 2 Tbsp (10 ml) of the olive oil in a skillet over medium heat and add the garlic and red pepper flakes. Sauté until fragrant and lightly golden, about one minute. Remove from heat.
Place the chopped peppers in a food processor or blender (I used a food processor). Add the sautéed garlic mixture, the remaining 6 Tbsp (90 ml) olive oil, toasted almonds, vinegar (or lemon juice) and sugar (or stevia) and process to a purée. Add the chopped apple and process again until blended. (If your blender isn’t large enough to hold allt he ingredients at once, process in two batches and then stir them together in a bowl).
Transfer the dip to a bowl and season to taste with salt and pepper. Cover and refrigerate until well chilled. Makes about 2 cup (480 ml). Will keep, covered, in refrigerator up to 3 days.
Last Year at this Time: Roasted Garlic and Pumpkinseed Pesto
Other Posts in this Series:
Other Apple-Based Recipes You Might Enjoy:
Other Lucky Comestibles:
© 2009 Diet, Dessert and Dogs
Well, it’s Canadian Thanksgiving on Monday, which can only mean one thing: Star Trek marathon on Space Channel! Or maybe: Ellen Page gets a surprise celebration from buddy Justin Long? Or how about: only 257 more days until summer?
Okay, in reality, Thanksgiving means that, like it or not, the holiday season is already upon us. Orange and black streamers hanging from gift shop ceilings, Hallmark stores overflowing with turkey cards and placemats, Christmas muzak on every elevator and wafting through every shopping mall, heart-shaped chocolate and chocolate eggs at every checkout. . . yep, the holiday season is already upon us, and will continue pretty much unabated until somewhere around May 1st.
Okay, then: let’s party!
Before I get to today’s recipe, however, I’d like to wish all my Canadian compatriots a very Happy Thanksgiving! And in honor of the onset of the holiday festivities, I’m happy to offer a very special sale of Sweet Freedom.
I found myself with some extra stock of books and think these would make excellent holiday gifts, whether for a friend, family member, or even yourself! Until December 1st, 2009, you can purchase a signed copy (dedicated to the name of your choice) of Sweet Freedom that I will ship directly to you, for just $25.00 US (a 35% discount). There are no extra charges to this price–no shipping, no taxes!
If you’d like to purchase a copy of Sweet Freedom at this special sale price or would like to learn more about the book, simply click on the “Cookbook” tab above or the book icon to the left. Choose the first (sale) option. There! You’ve just completed your holiday gift shopping–more time to have fun! 
* * * * * * * * * *
As much as I appreciate living in the 21st century, in some ways I am decidedly old-fashioned. In fact, in many ways, I tend to cleave to the archaic (and not just because I use words like, “cleave,” either). For instance, I don’t care how convenient bread machines may be; to me, it’s not really bread unless it’s mixed, kneaded and shaped by hand. When I was younger, I used to carry handkerchiefs with me rather than tissues (but had to stop the practice because too many people just got grossed out. Even though I washed them after only one use–I swear!). Ever since living with Mr. Audiophile (aka the HH), I’ve come to prefer LPs to CDs (they really do sound better!), though I suppose both will become antiques in the very near future.
And while I’m comfortable using a computer (sure comes in handy when one keeps a food blog) and I participate (nominally) in Facebook and twitter, I have never really warmed up to the concept of a PDA. I don’t own a Blackberry, iPhone, or any other similar electronic device. What I use is an old-fashioned, faux-leather bound, paper daytimer.
I love my daytimer and couldn’t imagine giving it up for any reason. I mean, it’s 100% portable (slips easily into my purse); it’s easy to use (only basic language skills required); and it never requires recharging (which means I can use it anywhere, any time, even during power failures or while in a root cellar during a tornado). When I want to know what’s planned on December 17, for instance, I simply flip the pages to that date and–voilà!–”dental cleaning” (ugh! has it been six months already??). If the HH sidles up to me and murmurs, ”Ric, sweetie, honey, um, can you drive me to my follow up eye surgery appointment next Wednesday at 10:45?” all I need do is flip, flip, flip, and the answer is immediately forthcoming (yes, HH honey sweetie, I will drive you.).
The other day, I realized that I’d soon need to acquire a new, 2010 version of my book. While flipping through the last few pages of 2009 (where a few blank sheets are reserved for “Notes”), I happened upon a recipe that had been hastily scribbled on the last page. Well, what do you know–it was in my own handwriting!
I do remember, vaguely, copying a recipe from a magazine in my doctor’s waiting room one day. Which doctor? Can’t remember. How long ago was this appointment? I have no idea. Which magazine? Hmmm, my mind’s a blank. Was the dish something I’d still like to make? You betcha!
In fact, the recipe–a roasted plum and baby spinach salad topped with bacon–sounded perfect for the upcoming Thanksgiving table. A novel departure from cranberries or pumpkin, the salad still featured a seasonal fruit, as well as pure maple syrup, one of Canada’s most beloved domestic products. As a bonus, I happened to have a bag of organic plums from our organic box waiting patiently on the kitchen counter and had been looking for a way to use them (since my all-too-frequent tendency is to wait until they’re on the verge of spoilage before sussing out a recipe). I made a quick switch to tempeh bacon–and had a great recipe to try out this long weekend!
The salad came together very easily as the kitchen was flooded with the dual sweetness of warming plums and crackling bacon. The crisp, young spinach is the perfect foundation for the slightly softened plums and smoky tempeh. When roasted, the plums just begin to caramelize; tossed in maple syrup, they offer a lovely contrast of sweet, crusty exterior and tart, juicy inner flesh. Punctuated by thin slices of red onion and the sharp piquancy of dijon dressing, the salad offers a pastiche of flavors that was–well, plum delicious. (Sorry, couldn’t resist).
In this second phase of the ACD, I’m allowed one (non-sweet) fruit a day, so I decided to revamp the original recipe so I could eat it, too. I prepared the original version for the HH, set aside a few plum slices for me, and whipped up a separate dressing for each of us. I’m including both recipes here for those of you on restricted diets so that you can enjoy a little sweetness of your own at Thanksgiving. One serving of this, and I guarantee you’ll be ready for party season.
“Um, Mum, you forgot to mention that Thanksgiving weekend also means one more extra long walk for us Girls. . . we love the holidays!”
Tempeh Bacon-Topped, Roasted Plum and Baby Spinach Salad
adapted from a magazine in my doctor’s waiting room (ACD version below)
A perfect first course to a holiday dinner, the salad is substantial without being overly filling. To make a meal of it, increase the amount of tempeh per serving, and add a side of rice pilaf or quinoa.
1 batch (about 12 slices) tempeh bacon, homemade or store bought (I used the recipe from Vegan with a Vengeance, with the ACD-friendly alterations listed below)
8 plums (not black prune type), cut in half and stone removed
8-10 fresh sage leaves
2 Tbsp (30 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
3 garlic cloves, minced
2 Tbsp (30 ml) dijon mustard
1/3 cup (80 ml) red wine vinegar
1/2 cup (120 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
salt and pepper, to taste
2 Tbsp (30 ml) pure maple syrup
1/2 red onion, thinly sliced
2 pkg (20 oz or 570 g) baby spinach
Preheat oven to 450F (230C). Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper.
Place the plums cut side down on the cookie sheet and drizzle with 2 Tbsp (30 ml) olive oil. Scatter the sage leaves onto the sheet around the plums. Bake for about 12 minutes, until plums are softened and cut side is beginning to caramelize, but plums still hold their shape. Remove from oven and cool to room temperature, then slice into half-moon shaped slices. (If you are using homemade tempeh bacon, you can keep it warm on a heatproof platter; cover with foil and reduce oven temperature to 250F (120C) before placing in oven to keep warm.)
Meanwhile, mix the dressing: In a small jar or bowl, combine the minced garlic, red wine vinegar, 1/2 cup (120 ml) olive oil, and salt and pepper to taste. Either whisk the mixture or shake the (closed) jar vigorously until well combined.
To assemble, place spinach leaves on a platter and scatter the onion slices over it. Toss the plums with the maple syrup and place over the spinach. Top with the warm tempeh. Drizzle with dressing, then crumble baked sage leaves over all. Serve immediately. Makes 6-8 servings.
ACD-Friendly Variation:
-
Set aside 1 serving of plums before tossing them in the maple syrup; have yours without syrup.
-
Instead of the dressing above, mix (per serving): 2 Tbsp (30 ml) freshly squeezed lemon juice, 2 Tbsp (30 ml) extra virgin olive oil, 1/4 tsp (1 ml) mustard powder, and salt and pepper to taste with 1-2 drops stevia liquid.
-
Make these changes to the tempeh bacon recipe: omit apple cider, tomato paste, and liquid smoke (unless it’s sugar and alcohol free). Instead of apple cider, use 1/4 cup (60 ml) freshly squeezed lemon juice mixed with enough water to make 1/3 cup (80 ml); add 5 drops liquid stevia. Use tomato paste that is free of sugar and wheat (or use puréed tomato). Instead of liquid smoke, use smoked paprika. Otherwise, follow the recipe as written.
Last Year at this Time: Mini Coconut Loaves or Cupcakes (gluten-free)
© 2009 Diet, Dessert and Dogs
[Thanks to everyone who entered the Simply Bar giveaway! I apologize for never learning how to capture and post the Random.org page with the winning number, but I promise you it was number 46--which translates to Eve of A Tale of Two Vegans! Congrats, Eve! Please email me with your mailing address so we can get your bars out to you asap!]
Well, you know what they say. . . the best laid plans sometimes go AWOL (or something like that). In my case, plans for the Labor Day weekend–well, Sunday, actually–were waylaid by an impromptu visit. . . to the emergency room.
No, not for me. The HH, however, is still recovering (and he’ll be fine, thankfully). We had planned to have our friends Nutritionista and her hubby over for appetizers and drinks in the evening, so the HH was conscientiously outside in the early afternoon (I was prepping for back to school), pulling weeds and mowing the lawn. About midway through the task, he walked slowly into the house and stood, immobile, in the hallway.
“Are you done already?” I asked. (The HH hates lawn work and I figured he’d done a haphazard job just to get it over with.)
“Um, no,” he replied. “But I think maybe we need to go to the hospital.”
Not exactly the words you want to hear emanating from your honey’s lips as you’re peeling potatoes.
While pushing the (non-electric) mower, he’d been arrested by a sudden shower of brownish “floaters” (cloudy specs, strands or cobweb-like images that float across the field of vision, originating from within the eye). He said it looked as if someone had poured balsamic vinegar over oil, or splattered mud all over a windshield–and he couldn’t see clearly through the mess.
And so, emergency room it was.
I mean, really–the lengths that HH will go to, just to get out of doing his chores!
Most floaters are a normal outcome of cells in the vitreous layer (the jelly-like fluid inside the eye) drying out and separating from the vitreous as people get older. Normally, they are no more than a mild nuisance, most visible when you look at light backgrounds such as white paper or a clear blue sky. As someone who’s nearsighted, I have floaters undulating across my field of vision on a regular basis–but mine are fairly inobtrusive, mostly resembling tiny jelllyfish-like creatures that swoosh and sway benignly. (To see a cool example of what floaters look like, check this page–scroll down to the blue box on the bottom right hand side.)
After five hours in emerg, the HH was finally examined by a doctor, only to be told that they didn’t have an opthalmologist on call at that particular hospital. With so few opthalmologists to go around, they rotated their on-call sites each weekend (Americans, are you sure you want Canadian-style health care? Really??). So off we drove to the second hospital, 20 minutes away. There, we were met by a young doctor whom we’d obviously wrenched from a family Labor Day event, still in his polo T and stonewashed jeans. He led the HH to an examining room in an otherwise deserted part of the hospital (the place was already closed for the weekend), then into an anteroom for laser surgery, to repair two large tears in the HH’s retina. The brown floaters were signs of bleeding behind the eye!
It’s times like those that I wonder, what did we do before modern technology? Within 15 minutes, the rips had been repaired, the bleeding stopped, and the HH released with a bottle of anti-inflammatory eye drops and no exterior signs of trauma . While there is always a chance that the tear will progress to a detached retina (a big-deal emergency in which major surgery would be invoked), the kind doc reassured us that things looked pretty good in the HH’s vitreous, and set up a follow up appointment this week. Whew!
Needless to say, our friends didn’t come over that evening. I had, however, planned to serve some really ingenious appetizers. I thought I’d serve them to all of you instead–well, virtually, anyway.
You may recall my love affair with cashew goat cheese a while back.** I’ve been eating the stuff every which way you can imagine, including spread on raw collard leaves for wraps, on plain coconut flour biscuits for breakfast, in blobs on salads, and straight from the container. Another favorite is in jalapeno poppers.
My poppers are an ACD-friendly version of a bar snack I shared with a friend years ago in a pub in Welland. The originals involved cream cheese filling, a breaded coating and some heavy duty deep frying. This version is much more civilized, simply roasted jalapenos filled with a hefty spoonful of ”goat cheese”–no recipe required!
I must warn you, however, that if you don’t have asbestos lips as I do (these were far too hot for the HH’s palate–after a tiny taste, he threw the pepper back on the plate, spat out the morsel that had made it inside his mouth, and drank half a beer in one gulp), you might want to try these with Cubanelles, poblanos or another slightly milder, yet still relatively small, pepper. Part of the appeal of poppers, I think, is that they can be consumed in two or three bites.
The other appetizer I’d planned to serve was a twist on bruschetta, made with thick rounds of roasted potato instead of the bread. I topped these with homemade pesto using basil from our garden, chopped tomatoes (also from the garden, thereby depleting our entire harvest of FOUR tomatoes this year), a drizzle of olive oil and a few more shreds of basil. The final result was a little miracle of synergy.
With a slightly crisp exterior and creamy, still warm interior, the potatoes offered a perfect base for the bruschetta. Each bite presented a medley of temperatures and textures, the firm rounds highlighted with smooth, fragrant pesto and slurpy, ripe tomato. The HH and I actually consumed the entire batch (about 15 pieces) in one sitting as our late-night dinner, before toppling into bed.
To those of you who read about the HH’s ordeal on twitter or Facebook, thanks for all the good wishes. His eyes will be fine–though, after that bite of Jalapeno Popper, I think his lips may need a little more recovery time.
AND IF YOU’RE IN THE TORONTO AREA. . . Please drop by and see me at the annual Vegetarian Food Fair at Harbourfront on Saturday, September 12 and Sunday, September 13! I’ll be demonstrating recipes from Sweet Freedom and handing out samples of both–Maple Walnut Cookies (Saturday) and Butterscotch Blondies (Sunday). Come on over and say “hi”!
Potato Bruschetta
Try this simple appetizer next time you’re entertaining guests. The potatoes hold up remarkably well, and won’t absorb the moisture from the topping the way toast rounds would.
3-4 large round (rather than oval) potatoes, washed and cut into disks about 1/2″ (1 cm) thick
2 Tbsp (30 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
fine sea salt, to taste
basil-pine nut pesto, as desired (I used about 3/4 cup or 180 ml)–you can use homemade or store bought
2-3 large ripe tomatoes, diced
more extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic, for drizzling
2-3 leaves fresh basil, thinly sliced
Preheat oven to 400F (200C). Line 2 cookie sheets with parchment paper, or spray with nonstick cooking spray.
Put potatoes in a large bowl and sprinkle with the olive oil and sea salt to taste. Toss with your (clean) hands until potatoes are evenly coated. Place the rounds on the cookie sheet and roast in the preheated oven for 30-45 minutes, until tender and beginning to brown on the edges. It’s nice if you can turn the disks over about halfway through, but not essential.
Once the potatoes are cooked, remove them from the oven and allow to cool for 3-5 minutes until they are cool enough to handle, but still warm. Top each disk with 1-2 tsp (5-10 ml) of pesto, a good mound of tomato, a slice or two of basil, and a thin drizzle of olive oil. Serve while still warm or at room temperature. These are best eaten the day they’re made. Makes 15-18 appetizers.
** By now, I’ve made this goat cheese recipe so many times that I’ve worked out my own shortcut without compromising the texture or flavor. If I don’t have time for overnight soaking, I find that 6 hours will do. The original recipe also asks you to drain the mixture through cheesecloth for 12 hours. I’ve found that my cheese never releases any more liquid this way, so I simply mix up my cheese and bake it straightaway. I know it’s supposed to “age” during the overnight draining, but I’ve never noticed a difference in taste or texture when I took that extra step. The end result doesn’t seem to be harmed in any way by the alterations.
Last Year at this Time: Mock Tuna Salad
© 2009 Diet, Dessert and Dogs
[With baked beets and avocado over mesclun greens]
For those of you who’ve decided, as I have, to really appreciate the home front this Labor Day weekend (read: can’t afford to go away), hope you’re enjoying some wonderful weather! If you’re in the Toronto area, drop by to see me and say “hi” at Ambrosia Natural Foods, any time between noon and 4:00 PM. I’ll be offering books and samples of baked goods from Sweet Freedom. And don’t forget that you’ve got only two more days to enter the Simply Bar giveaway! Just click here for details.
Speaking of weather, guess what? It’s summer again! Yep, after a sodden, gloomy June, July and August (okay, maybe there was one day of sunshine), this past week has awarded us with brilliantly sapphire skies and lovely, mellow heat–and Mother Nature’s surprise gift is expected to keep on giving through the weekend.
Am I fixated on the weather? Well, I’m Canadian, aren’t I?
Apart from our legendary politeness and steady stream of Canadian expat comedians now in the US, Canadians are also known worldwide for their perverse preoccupation with the weather. No matter the season, no matter the temperature, no matter the individuals, talk of the climate seems to infiltrate any and all conversations and contexts. To wit:
Scene One. April. Bob and Doug meet on the street.
Bob: Hey, how about those Blue Jays, eh?
Doug: Blue Jays? Are you kidding? It was coming down cats and dogs last night. The game was rained out. Grrr-crappy weather!
Scene Two. December. Sterlin and Ricki meet on the street.
Sterlin: Hi, Ric! Merry Christmas! Hope you and the HH got some great gifts!
Ricki: Gifts? Ha! As if Santa could make it to our house through all that sleet and snow! Crappy weather. *sigh.*
Scene Three. March. Kate and Alex sit on the couch after a romantic interlude.
Alex: Kate, I love you. You are “the one.” You complete me. Will you marry me?
Kate: Marry? Are you kidding? As if anyone could count on a decent Saturday to hold a wedding in June! Crappy weather.
Scene Four. July. Don and Roger meet on the street after lunch.
Don: How was the planning meeting this morning?
Roger: Er, I don’t really know. I noticed it was sunny outside and hightailed it to the park–I mean, it was sunny outside! Can’t afford to waste a single sunny moment in this town. Crappy weather.
You get the idea. And really, Roger has a point. With the last few days in Toronto being bright and balmy, I’ve been spending as much time as possible outdoors–which means very little cooking going on here at the DDD household. But don’t despair–there are always salads and other raw foods!
This dish is one I first noticed on Michelle’s blog some time ago. I think it perfectly straddles the limbo between summer and fall (sort of like wearing darker tights with those light summer skirts to tide you over until you pull out your winter wardrobe). I love beets and had never eaten raw beet greens, so I couldn’t wait to give this a try.
I haven’t always been a lover of the crimson root, however. And the HH is painfully blunt in his assessment that “beets taste like dirt.”
[With beet greens and raw, grated beets. Does this look like dirt to you?]
You see, my mother–an excellent baker, but only passable cook–would save a jar of beet borscht for those evenings when she arrived home from shopping or mah jong and didn’t have enough time to whip up a proper dinner. On those occasions, she’d pop open the lid of the borscht jar she kept in the fridge, pour the chunky liquid into a bowl and swirl in a generous dollop of sour cream. For my dad, a bowl of cold borscht with a thick slice of pumpernickel bread constituted a perfectly acceptable dinner (he’s from Poland; pink soup with shreds of beet floating in it doesn’t seem weird to him). To me, however, the resulting fuscia broth appeared far too reminiscent of Pepto Bismol. Combined with the sweet-and-sour odor of the stuff, it was enough to clamp my throat and cause my stomach to lurch. No wonder I didn’t eat beets again until my 40s.
After attending nutrition school and learning about the myriad health benefits of beets, however, I decided I had to give them another try. Besides being a great source of fiber, Vitamin C, iron and potassium, beets also help decrease inflammation in the body, prevent heart disease, and help tone the liver. In other words, they’re a “nutrient dense” food, one that provides a higher degree of nutritional punch than other foods with a similar calorie content.
Even the HH loved this salad; we ate it three times in as many weeks. When I made it for the fourth time a few days ago, the weather contributed its own influence and I decided to try it without baking the beets first, but simply peeling and grating them raw. The result was equally delicious, with the juicy, sweet crunch of the raw root commingling happily with the crisp greens.
We’ve also had this salad with chunks of avocado tossed in at the last minute simply because it was at its peak of ripeness, adding a smooth, subtle richness that balanced well with the sour note of the citrus dressing. On another occasion, the salad worked well using mesclun greens instead of beet greens when the latter weren’t available.
Serve this as the first course at dinner, or use it as a light supper all on its own–then run out and enjoy the last vestiges of summer before it evaporates once again.
Grrr–crappy weather!
“Mum, that was just a joke about Santa not making it to our house, right? I mean, we’ll still get our usual Christmas treats this year, won’t we?”
Beet the Heat and Mint Salad
adapted from Find Your Balance
The combination of sweet beets and crisp, crunchy greens is a winner in this quick and easy salad. Toss in some toasted walnut halves or sprinkle with hemp seeds for a light summer dinner.
2 pounds (about 1 kg) fresh beets with greens (scrub beets and wash greens; discard thick stems)
1/2 cup (120 ml) unpacked fresh mint leaves, rinsed and chopped
juice of 1 small lemon
juice of 1 lime
1 tsp (5 ml) Sucanat or 5 drops stevia liquid
1 Tbsp (15 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
1 Tbsp (15ml) hemp seeds, if desired
salt and pepper to taste
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Line a pan with parchment paper. Bake the beets for about one hour, until fork-tender (you can wrap them in aluminum foil for baking if you like, but I don’t bother). Once cool, peel the beets and dice in chunks. Set aside. Alternately, peel the raw beets and grate on the large holes of a box grater; set aside.
Meanwhile, wash and dry the beet greens. Chop into bite-sized pieces.
Place the greens, beets, and mint in a large bowl. Add the lemon juice, lime juice, Sucanat, olive oil and hemp seeds, if using. Toss well and season with salt and pepper. Makes 4 servings. Will keep, covered, in the refrigerator one day.
Last Year at this Time: Jalapeno Pesto Pizza
© 2009 Diet, Dessert and Dogs
* Or use another favorite herb.
[I thought it would be fun to run a little series over here at DDD: I'll profile one one of my favorite foods, or a food that I've recently discovered and enjoyed, over several days. For this fifth edition, I'm focusing on cilantro. The series is presented on an occasional (and entirely arbitrary) basis, before I move on to the next lucky comestible. This is the fourth entry on cilantro.]
My mom was many things: a sweet person, a sentimental person, a docile person, a loyal person; but one thing she most definitely was not, was a morning person. Because of my dad’s unique hours (he didn’t drive a car for the first 38 years of his life, so he would take the bus to his butcher shop** each day, a ride of about an hour–necessitating a 5:30 AM wakeup six days a week), this meant my Mom, too, was required to arise at the same ungodly hour each day. Her responsibility was to grill Dad’s breakfast toast, pour his tea, and pack his lunch.
The second he was out the door, my mother would retreat to the bedroom and fall back on the bed, unconscious within seconds, only to emerge about three hours later looking–well, as if she needed some sleep. My sisters and I learned at a tender age that we were on our own when it came to breakfast.
Like most of my friends at the time, I fancied cold cereal and milk above all else in the morning. Cap’n Crunch, Cocoa Puffs, Lucky Charms, _______ [insert your own sugar-filled, wheat-based choice here], but on Saturdays, the CFO and I allowed ourselves a supreme treat: saltine crackers slathered with peanut butter, and a tall glass of chocolate milk, which we made ourselves while my mother slept. We’d tiptoe down to the basement (where my parents had installed a second TV) and sit on the olive green vinyl hide-a-bed watching Saturday morning cartoons for hours (well, about three hours, that is, until Mom woke up) while we munched happily, leaving a trail of crumbs in our wake like the famous Grimm siblings.
When I got older and eventually had my own kitchen to run, I lost interest in saltines, and any other crackers. Crackers were one of those foods I never really thought about in the “SAD [ie, Standard American Diet] old days,” when I still consumed wheat, meat, sugar and aspartame. I can recall serving appetizers of smoked oysters, cream cheese and a wedge of lemon on Triscuits when I threw dinner parties in my 20s, or setting out a tray of Ritz, Stoned Wheat Thins and Water Crackers next to a hunk of cheese. But otherwise, crackers were off my radar. I mean, why would you choose dry, flavorless crackers when you could be scarfing muffins, scones or biscuits? You see my point.
[Slathered here with some raw Almond-Veggie Pâté]
So I surprised even myself by how much I enjoyed these thin, crispy wafers. Perhaps it’s the fact that I haven’t had a “true” baked good (ie, something made with flour, sweetener and, ideally, some form of chocolate) in 5 months, since I started the ACD. Or maybe my tastes are just evolving.
Naw.
In any case, these were even a hit with the HH , who pronounced them “really tasty” (not a man of many words, that HH). The texture, while crispy and slightly crumbly, is nevertheless rich, like a butter cracker or shortbread; yet they stand up well to toppings and spreads.
I enjoyed them with a slather of raw almond-veggie pâté, but because the cilantro isn’t very pronounced (great for you cilantro-phobes out there), they’d even work with nut butter for breakfast. You could easily eat some while watching cartoons–but I wouldn’t recommend pairing them with chocolate milk.
** Yes, the irony is palpable. I talk about his occupation vis-à-vis my dietary choices here.
[For those of you who prefer sweets to crackers, here's the latest review of Sweet Freedom--check out the "Muffin Wars" between SF and JOVB versions!]
Grain Free Hazelnut-Cilantro* Crackers
These work equally well for appetizers or as a snack on their own. You can use any herb you like if you’re not a fan of cilantro.
3/4 cup (115 g) hazelnuts (filberts)
1/4 cup (30 g) finely ground flax seeds
2 cloves garlic, roughly chopped
1/4 cup (40 g) whole bean or chickpea flour
1/4 tsp (1 ml) fine sea salt
1/4 tsp (1 ml) baking soda
1/2-2/3 cup (120-160 ml) fresh cilantro, parsley or basil leaves, or a combination
2 Tbsp (30 ml) organic coconut oil, melted, or extra virgin olive oil
3 Tbsp (45 ml) water
Preheat oven to 375F (190C). Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper (this recipe requires the parchment; greasing won’t do). Lightly flour the parchment with more bean flour.
In the bowl of a food processor, process the nuts and flax seeds to a fine meal; it should have the appearance of coarse cornmeal, with no visible pieces of nuts. Add the flour, salt and soda and process again until mixture is combined.
Add the cilantro, oil, and water to the processor and blend until the cilantro is well chopped and the mixture comes together in a moist dough.
Place the dough directly on the parchment, and roll it out to a rectangle about 7 x 10 inches (17.5 x 25 cm) big . You can make it smaller or slightly larger, depending on how thick you want your crackers. (I rolled mine out to a thickness of about 1/8″ or 2 mm).
Bake in preheated oven for 15 minutes. Remove from the oven and cut the large rectangle into smaller crackers (I cut about 25 crackers). Turn each cracker over by hand (be careful–these are hot!). Return the crackers to the oven and bake another 10-15 minutes, until they are golden brown throughout. Cool completely before storing in an airtight container. Makes about 25 crackers. These will keep, covered at room temperature, for up to a week.
Other posts in this series:
Other Lucky Comestibles:
Last Year at this Time: Zucchini and Pineapple Mini Loaves (featuring a now-cringe-inducing Michael Jackson reference!)
© 2009 Diet, Dessert and Dogs
Even though the HH is of Scottish descent and I hail from the Poles and Russians (the joke possibilities are endless, aren’t they?), we live in a predominantly Italian neighborhood. And while we enjoy a good relationship with most of our neighbors and have even become friendly with some of them, in some ways, living here has induced a bit of an inferiority complex.
I know it’s a cliché, but in our neighborhood, at least, the lawns are perfectly tended, with gardens that have been pruned and primped more than J Lo’s hair on Oscar night. On any given evening as the HH and I enjoy our stroll with The Girls, we pass yards that could qualify as tourist attractions, complete with plush grass carpets, a profusion of exotic flowers in myriad colors, and hand-crafted topiary in any variety of shapes (my favorites are the bear and cat shrubs–I kid you not). And while we like our house and do try to keep it in good repair, the HH’s idea of ”property maintenance” is picking up the newspaper from the porch each morning.
But in the realm of food–what a learning experience it’s been! I was already a lover of Italian cuisine even before we moved here, and felt a bit heartbroken when I was told I could no longer eat wheat. No more pasta primavera? No more wholegrain bread dipped in chili-infused olive oil? No more gnocchi–my all time favorite (and most elusive) type of pasta? Luckily, there are a couple of places in the city where I can still enjoy rice pasta or spelt pizza–and, of course, I can make my own.
Since we moved here, though, I’ve had a series of culinary coaches. Each time I enter the local grocery/deli to pick up something for the HH, Melvin, my friend behind the counter, offers a tutorial on the varieties of asiago cheese or which olives are best. Our (extremely generous) landlord, who lives only a few blocks away, provided all kinds of tips on how to plant and raise my tomato garden last year–then presented us with several jars of his own home-canned tomato sauce. (Thanks again, Vince!). And can it be that The Girls have developed a predilection for basil (pesto-coated potatoes at the top of the list)?
So, when I happened upon them in the bulk store a few weeks ago, it seemed only natural that I’d want to give lupini beans a try. A new legume I’d never eaten before! I grabbed a small bag full and headed to the cash.
“Have you ever eaten these?” I asked the cashier.
“No,” she replied, “but our Italian customers make them all the time. You have to soak them for ten days. But every day, you have to spill out the water and replace it. Do you still want them?”
Of course I still wanted them, I assured her. Besides, I knew she’d made a mistake. Who ever heard of a dried legume that needed ten days of soaking? Anyone who’s ever cooked dried beans from scratch knows that you simply soak them overnight, drain, refill, boil, and eat. Simple!
Er, sorry Ric, but that’s simply WRONG. After a bit of Internet sleuthing, I discovered that the cashier had, indeed, been correct. Apparently, a high alkaloid content produces a bitter taste that can deter even the most steadfast legume-lover from sampling the beans. Soaking, then rinsing and soaking again–and repeating the process every day for at least ten days–allows the bitterness to be washed away so that the beans are then palatable.
According to Purcell Mountain Farms’ page on lupinis, “All this effort is worth it. The Lupins family of the grain legumes are one of the highest in protein content, second only to soy beans.” Hooray for serendipity–and an alternative to tofu!
Lupini beans are generally served at Easter or other holidays (and no wonder–when else would people have the time to prepare them?). I suppose you could simply boil them in advance, then keep in the fridge while you moved on to other holiday dishes. Once they’re ready to eat, you replace the soaking water with salted water (brine). This way, the beans will keep for weeks in the refrigerator. Here’s a basic tutorial, including info about the tough outer skins.
In the past, while in the midst of baking a birthday cake or other multi-ingredient confection, it’s often occurred to me, ”Who ever thought it would be a good idea to mix raw broken eggs, milk, sugar, flour–and then take that wet mixture, pour it into a metal pan, and bake it?” I mean, why on earth would they assume that would work out? In this case, did someone cook up the beans just like any other, bite into one only to spit it across the room like the sparks flying off a welding torch before suddenly thinking, ”Hey! Why don’t I take these putrid beans, put them in a jar, refresh the water once a day for ten to fourteen days, and then taste them again?!” Seriously, how do these recipes come about?
Well, luckily for us, some fool masochist did think to repeatedly rinse the beans before eating, and we all get to benefit from the innovation. While I can understand the reverence these tidbits receive in Italian homes–they are springy, toothsome and offer the same snacky enjoyment as biting into unshelled edamame (with the same “pop” as you crack the tough outer skins and enjoy the inner bean), I’m not sure I’d make them again. Checking on the beans for ten days felt like a commitment just shy of cohabitation, and I’m not sure I’m that much in love.
Laced with extra virgin olive oil, garlic and sage, however, these made a delectable contribution to our antipasto plate a while back, providing a great boost to the protein content of my meal. I’ve still got half a jar left in the refrigerator, too. Which, come to think of it, would make a great gift for my landlord.
I’m submitting this recipe to Katie of Chocolate Covered Katie, for her “New Foods Challenge,” as well as to Lori Lynn of Taste with the Eyes, as my submission for the popular My Legume Love Affair event, begun by Susan of The Well-Seasoned Cook.
Lupini Beans with Olive Oil, Garlic and Sage
A great snack once you’ve got them on hand. . . just don’t plan on eating these at the first sign of hunger.
About 1 cup (240 ml) dry lupini beans, rinsed and picked over
4 cups (1 liter) water, plus more for boiling
salt
1 clove garlic, minced
splash of extra virgin olive oil
ground or freshly chopped sage, to taste
Place the beans in a pot in the water and soak overnight. After 24 hours or so, drain the beans, refill the pot, and bring to a boil. Boil gently until the beans are relatively tender (these will never get really soft), 1-2 hours.
Drain and rinse the beans. Place in a clean jar or container and cover with water. Place in the refrigerator and change the water once a day for 10-14 days (it took mine a full 14 days for the taste to lose all its bitterness).
Once the beans no longer taste bitter, add salt (to taste) to the water in the jar. They can be stored this way in the refrigerator.
When ready to eat the beans, remove some from the jar and splash with olive oil. Toss in the garlic and sage, and dig in. Makes about 2 cups (480 ml) beans.
Last Year at this Time: When Cheesecake is Love (a Sweet Freedom recipe!)
© 2009 Diet, Dessert and Dogs
* Or, Hummus in a World of Its Own
As we often do, the HH and I made the trek to Montreal over the long weekend to spend the holidays with my family. While I long ago became accustomed to toting along some sort of sustenance for these trips (my diet, even when I’m not on a candida cleanse, is considered fairly “out there” by the rest of my kinsfolk), this last visit presented a particular challenge, as I couldn’t even partake in those few foods I normally eat when staying with the CFO.
As a result, our cooler was packed a little more than usual as we departed for La Belle Ville. At our pit stop near Kingston, the HH bought himself a regular coffee and chicken club at Tim Horton’s, while I munched on grape tomatoes, baby carrots, and my new favorite hummus–a Curried Pumpkin variety.
The hummus came about the week before we left, as I was standing in the kitchen ruminating (figuratively, of course) about how much I miss my beloved pumpkin oats (à la Shelby) since I began this infernal ACD. While I ruminated (literally) on some hummus, it occurred to me: why not combine the pumpkin with my hummus instead? Eureka! I threw together some standard hummus, tinkered with the spices and fats, and ended up feeling rather smug for having created a unique, ingenious and flavorsome dish. Immediately, I determined to blog about it.
Well, a few days later, I encountered Vegan Yum Yum’s post about Apple Pie Coffee Cake. The post opened with the following line: ”I have a knack for inventing things that have already been invented.” Ooops.
Rather quickly, I was accosted by insistent, niggling doubts (sort of like Chaser when she wants to go for a walk) about my hummus. Could it be that my original invention already existed? Eventually, I succumbed and, after a quick Google search, discovered that pumpkin hummus abounds on the Internet. In fact, it’s almost as ubiquitous as those little popups (you know the ones–those rows of laughing emoticons) that invade your screens when you’re looking for something else. Curses!
I did take some comfort, however, in the knowledge that all of us, at some time or another, have probably considered an idea or concept of ours to be entirely unprecedented, only to discover fairly quickly that scores of others had already considered the very same thing.
* * *
The scene: Ricki, aged 17, returns home from CEGEP. The Nurse hunches over the kitchen table, enjoying a Fresca and reading Family Circle.
RICKI [flushed with pride at her own discovery]: Hey, did you ever consider how every person sees everything through their own mind? I mean, maybe each of us is actually living in our own little world, which is, like, just our own consciousness, and maybe everything else is just an illusion? Like, what if you’re not really here, but you’re only here because I think you’re here–what if everythng in the world is just an offshoot of my own imagination, creating my reality? What if there’s really nothing else except me? Whoah. Weird, huh?
THE NURSE: I hate to tell you this, but that’s a common theory. It’s called solipsism. Just read some philosophy, genius. Geez. [She yawns. Ricki sinks under the table].
Or how about the same scene, six years later:
Ricki and the CFO are hunched at the kitchen table, drinking Diet Pepsi and reading People magazine.
THE CFO: Hey, Ric, did you ever consider how every person sees everything through their own mind? I mean, maybe each of us is actually living in our own little world. . . . . What if there’s really nothing else except me? Whoah. Weird, huh?
RICKI: I hate to tell you this, but that’s actually a common concept. They even made a movie about it–The Matrix. Just rent the film (which is much more fun than reading philosophy; besides, Keanu Reeves is much cuter than Descartes).
* * *
Well, no matter. Original or not, this hummus is delightful. With its subtle, sunny glow from both pumpkin and turmeric, to the slightly sweet spice from a mild curry and creamy chickpea base, the flavors meld beautifully to create an enticing appetizer or sandwich filling.
When I served this at dinner last week, the HH proclaimed, “This is the best hummus I’ve ever had,” and made me promise to prepare it again.
Now, I’d be inclined to agree with him, except of course I can never be 100% certain that his experience of hummus is identical to my experience of hummus. . . I mean, what if he’s referring to something entirely different from me when he says “best”? And what if I am actually living in my own little world, separate and distinct from his, and the HH is just a figment of my imagination? (Well, okay, I guess that wouldn’t be so bad–it would just mean more hummus for me!). Either way, I’ll be making this again.
Curried Pumpkin Hummus
Unlike most hummus recipes, this one includes no added oils–the almond butter and tahini provide enough fat to render this smooth, creamy, and very satisfying. (And quite original, don’t you think?) It’s great as a filling in raw collard wraps–as seen above–too.
1 cup (240 ml) dry chickpeas (2-2 1/2 cups cooked, drained)
3/4 cup (180 ml) packed cooked pumpkin purée, fresh or canned
2 Tbsp (30 ml) smooth natural almond butter
3 Tbsp (45 ml) tahini (sesame paste)
2 large cloves garlic, minced
1-1/2 tsp (7.5 ml) mild curry powder
1 tsp (5 ml) cumin
1/4 tsp (1 ml) fine sea salt, or to taste
1/4-1/3 cup (60-80 ml) fresh chopped cilantro, to taste
Cover the chickpeas with water and allow to soak overnight or at least 8 hours. Drain and cover with fresh water in a large pot. Bring to boil, reduce heat to medium-low, and cook until very soft, about 40 minutes. (Alternately, use canned, well-rinsed chickpeas).
In the bowl of a food processor, combine the drained chickpeas and remaining ingredients and process until smooth (add up to 1/3 cup or 80 ml water to achieve desired thickness). Scrape into serving bowl and drizzle with olive oil, if desired. Serve with pita chips or raw veggies, or use as a filling in sandwiches or wraps. Makes about 3 cups.
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