Pretty much anyone who knows me from this blog (or anywhere else) knows that I don’t consume refined sugar. In fact, since I started the anti-candida diet in March, 2009, I’ve abstained from almost all sweeteners, refined or otherwise. (I’ve also abstained from about 1,182 other foods that are verboten on the ACD, but that’s a whole other kettle of seaweed. )
Given my sugar-free stance, I was very excited when Hallie and Lexie revealed the theme for this week’s posts in their New Year, New You event: “Swap the Sweeteners”! The event takes place each Thursday this month and is designed to share tips and tricks to help you initiate–and maintain–healthful changes this year. Previous topics include Eat More Produce and Snack Smart. Be sure to check out Hallie’s post today to see what she baked up (yum!) and to enter to win a fabulous package of natural sweeteners, including stevia, agave nectar, unsulphured molasses and raw natural honey!
Looking to Swap Out the Sugar? Here Are My Favorite Naturally Low-Glycemic Alternatives.
Though the ACD prohibits most sweeteners, there are a few permitted (and thank goodness for that!). Here are my top picks for low glycemic sweeteners that you can use while fighting candida (or any time you wish to replace cane sugar with a healthier option).
It seems that the popularity of stevia has really exploded over the past year or so. This zero calorie, zero glycemic sweetener is my all-time favorite, and I continue to use it pretty much daily as my sweetener of choice. I’ve already written at length about this all-natural herbal sweetener, so I’ll direct you to this post to learn more.
How to Swap It: Remember that stevia can be up to 100 times sweeter than sugar, so it’s difficult to use as a replacement for all the sugar in a recipe (you’ll be swapping out perhaps 1/2 cup (120 ml) for just 1/8 of a teaspoon (0.5 ml)stevia, for instance, which would alter both the chemical makeup and consistency of your final product). After years of experimentation, I’ve found a few ways to use stevia successfully in baked goods. For my latest favorite, see the recipe at the end of this post.
This dark, thick and sticky syrup is derived from the yacon plant, a tuberous plant from the Andes region. It registers low on the glycemic index (reports range from zero to 28), so it’s recommended for Type II diabetics (listen up, Paula Deen!) or anyone seeking to cut back on sugars. With a texture and flavor similar to molasses (and, I find, with a slightly fermented flavor), yacon can be used in place of other sweeteners.
How to Swap It: Because of its fairly prominent flavor and not-too-sweet taste, I tend to use yacon along with another sweetener in baking; it works especially well with carob, cocoa or winter spices, the flavors of which are assertive enough to stand up to the yacon.
Another instantly-popular newcomer to the realm of natural sweeteners, coconut sugar and coconut syrup, extracted from the coconut palm flower, are natural, minimally processed sweeteners that have been used for ages in Southeast Asian countries; the sugar is sometimes known as jaggery. Both are low on the glycemic index (around 35), with a rich, butterscotch or caramel flavor; coconut sugar also contains a good amount of potassium and Vitamin C. I love the taste of coconut sugar as well as the depth it adds to baked goods.
How to Swap It: Coconut sugar can be used one-for-one instead of regular sugar; the syrup can be used as well, but you’ll need to adjust the levels of liquids and dry ingredients to compensate. I often use coconut syrup in non-baked desserts such as ice creams, fudge, or truffle balls.
[Mint Chip Ice Cream acquires part of its sweetness from pear purée (no ice cream maker required!)]
Fruits (Stage 2 and beyond):
One of the best ways to replace sugar in your baking and cooking is to use fruit purées instead. My favorite choice is dried dates (simply soak for 10 minutes in boiling water, drain and blend to a paste in your food processor); prunes (aka dried plums) work equally well. However, since I’m not permitted dates on the anti-candida diet, I’ve turned to other fruits for that purpose. I find that pear purée works wonders to add sweetness and binding power to baked goods; and its mild flavor won’t overpower other ingredients in your recipe. Applesauce is more commonly used, and works very well, too.
How to Swap It: As a rule, you’ll need to reduce both your liquid ingredients and your sugar to swap it for fruit. However, note that the texture may be altered as well. Normally you can replace up to 1/3 cup (80 ml) of sugar with fruit and achieve good results.
Although I’m now able to use coconut sugar in baking, I decided to create a recipe for today’s post sweetened only with stevia so that anyone could enjoy it, whether or not they’re allowed higher glycemic sweeteners. I’ve also used psyllium husks as a binder for the first time, after seeingseveralrecipes with it recently on various blogs I read. I had some psyllium already in my pantry from a raw foods class I took a while back (it’s a fairly common ingredient among those who eat live foods), so it seemed the perfect time to start playing with it in the kitchen.
It took a couple of tries, but I finally found the correct ratio to produce a tasty bread that binds well without xanthan gum. As a bonus, the only fat in this loaf is from the nuts and nut butter–no added oils. The version with quinoa is higher protein (always a good thing for a vegan bread), but I have to admit I preferred the flavor of the amaranth,which offers a more delicate crumb. While it’s not terribly sweet, the flavor is subtle and pleasing–a perfect bread for breakfast or snacking.
The HH has been munching on this for breakfast the past week and seems blissfully unaware that he’s eating something “healthy.” And I’m entirely delighted that I could swap his regular Tim Horton’s muffin for a treat that’s actually good for him!
Don’t forget to enter the giveaway over at Hallie’s! And here are this week’s other participants to offer more tips on swapping out the sugar:
Despite what looks like a long ingredient list, this is really an easy bread to make. Its light, moist crumb will remind you of muffins, but it’s a bit more sturdy and a bit less sweet. . . perfect with nut butter for breakfast, or even as a means to sop up some heart, savory soup.
1/4 tsp (1 ml) pure stevia powder or liquid, to your taste
1/3 cup (40 g) lightly toasted walnut pieces or chopped walnuts
Preheat oven to 350F (180C). Lightly grease a regular loaf pan, or line with parchment paper.
Place the psyllium husks, apple cider vinegar, vanilla and almond butter in a glass measuring cup. Add enough milk to reach the 1-1/2 cup (360 ml) mark. Using a small whisk or fork, whisk everything together until the almond butter is well dissolved in the liquid and no lumps remain. Set aside while you measure the dry ingredients.
In a large bowl, sift together all remaining ingredients except for the walnuts. Whisk well to distribute all the ingredients evenly. Add the walnuts.
Whisk the liquid again to ensure that it’s smooth and everything is incorporated, then pour the wet mixture over the dry ingredients and stir just to combine (do not overmix!). Turn the mixture into the prepared pan and smooth the top.
Bake in preheated oven for 65-75 minutes, rotating the pan about halfway through, until the bread is well browned on the bottom and sides, and the top springs back when touched lightly (there will be a fairly thick crust by this time, but it should still spring back). A knife inserted in the center should come out moist but clean.
Allow to cool for 10 minutes, then remove from pan allow to cool completely before slicing. The bread is very moist on the first day and dries a bit by the second. Store, tightly wrapped, in the refrigerator up to 3 days, or freeze for later. Makes one medium loaf, or 8-10 slices.
This month’s SOS (Sweet or Savory) Kitchen Challenge asked readers to whip up dishes with spinach, and wow, did you ever take on this challenge with gusto! We received a dozen fantastic, creative recipes to try that all highlight the super-healthy leafy green. And yes, a few desserts are included as well!
Thanks to everyone who entered the challenge this month. As always, if you’ve submitted a recipe and I forgot to include it here, please let me know asap so I can add it to the list.
Here’s what’s on the menu with spinach:
THE SAVORY CONTRIBUTIONS:
Our very first entry was from Janet at Taste Space (Toronto) –a colorful and delicious Quinoa and Butternut Squash Spinach Salad with Cranberry and Pear. Well, I think the title tells you everything you need to know–doesn’t that just sound delectable? This savory salad is also a bit sweet with the pear and cranberries. Suitable for gluten free, vegan, sugar free, egg free and dairy free diets.
Jacqueline of Tinned Tomatoes (Dundee, Scotland) offers up a great recipe for Spicy Spinach and Potato Curry adapted from a recipe she found in one huge tome of a cookbook. Her pics look great (and check out the gratuitious cuteness of her new baby, Cooper!) This recipe is suitable for gluten free, soy-free, vegan, and ACD diets (contains coconut milk).
Kiersten from Full of Beans (Charlotte, NC )’s vegan Coconut Curried Chickpeas and Spinach looks like the perfect quick weekday dinner. I love a good curry, and with chickpeas AND spinach, you can’t go wrong with this one! Vegan, soy-free, gluten free, ACD-friendly and otherwise nut-free.
A double savory whammy comes to us from Lisa of Vegan Cookbook Critic (Toronto). First up, Lisa created a quick and easy savory Avocado-Spinach Spread–just look at the deep emerald color of that dip!
She also “uncooked” some gorgeously green Spinach-Hemp Flatbreads on which to spread it. Unlike many other dehydrated flatbreads, these remain soft, perfect for sandwiches. These both are vegan, dairy free, gluten free, raw, and sugar free.
Mom at the Gluten-Free Edge (Georgetown, Texas) decided that her Spinach Mushroom Pie should undergo a vegan revamp for this month’s entry! This is her remake of a long-time favorite recipe, and it worked out beautifully. The recipe is gluten free and vegan.
Chaya from The Comfy Cook is back this month with a fabulous Oriental Rice Pizza. This savory dish is filled with veggies and is a snap to make with its rice-based crust. It’s gluten free, sugar free and dairy free.
Johanna of Green Gourmet Giraffe (Melbourne, Australia) offers a cheezy spinach-based soup this month with her Pumpkin, Bean and Spinach Soup. While the recipe itself looks delicious, half the fun of the recipe is Johanna’s recounting of the experimentation that led her to it. And doesn’t the concept of tofu croutons just sound fabulous?
Valerie of City Life Eats (Washington, DC) has created a Lemony Spinach Pepita Pesto. With a unique combination of ingredients, this pesto would be delicious on more than just pasta. It’s gluten free, vegan, nut free, sugar free and ACD-friendly.
Aubree Cherie, who blogs at Living Free (Kennett Square, PA), decided to move out of her usual spinach zone with these Almond Spinach Biscuits. A great savory biscuit with a hint of sweet (dried cranberries), these treats were gobbled up by her significant other in no time. Definitely a fun (and delicious) recipe. Gluten free, sugar free, vegan and ACD-friendly.
My event partner, Kim at Affairs of Living, cooked up a fabulous Creamy Spinach and Celeriac Soup for those days when you crave something rich and healthy at the same time. The recipe is vegan, gluten free, sugar free, ACD friendly, soy free and nut free.
My savory contribution this month is a Classic Tofu Quiche recipe that I’ve had for years but never thought to post. The millet crust helps to make it quick, easy, and delicious! It’s gluten free, sugar free and vegan.
THE SWEET CONTRIBUTIONS (Yes, even spinach has a sweet side!):
Rachel from My Munchable Musings (WA) treated us to two sweet recipes this month! First up are these Spring Picnic Cupcakes, her take on the classic Strawberry and Spinach Salad–in a sweet mini confection! She’s also included a great bit of additional history and nutritional information about spinach here. These are wheat free, sugar free and vegan.
Rachel also created these adorable Green Thumb Print Cookies, that are gluten free! I love how the strawberry sits perfectly in the thumb print–seriously yummy looking. These are gluten free, sugar free and vegan.
Kim’s second contribution this month is her Invisible Spinach Smoothie. While you may have enjoyed smoothies with spinach before, this quick and easy recipe contains another veggie that you might not expect. Vegan, ACD-friendly, gluten free.
Finally, my sweet contribution is this Green Monster Muffin. Based on the concept of green smoothies, these muffins offer up spinach in a slightly sweet, hearty breakfast baked good. I’ve used chopped apples, but you could add in raisins or even chocolate chips to the mix if you like. Vegan, sugar free, gluten free.
Thanks again to everyone who played along this month. Enjoy these recipes until next month, when Kim–our hostess for June’s Challenge–will announce the new SOS ingredient.
[The final recipe, here with olives, green onion and almond feta]
I’ve seen it mentioned on twitter. I’ve noticed it in passing on other blogs. I’ve gone to their pages and read them. But sorry, folks, I still don’t get it.
Personally, I’d rather springform (pan) me. Then, at least, I’d have cheesecake when I was done.
Of course, I do understand the appeal of asking a blogger questions about her/himself; we all like to learn a little more about fellow bloggers’ personalities and personal lives. (When I first started blogging, memes were all the rage, and I happily participated. In a way, they accomplish something akin to Formspring, since they answer previously unanswered questions.) But what’s wrong with asking questions the old-fashioned way, through a blog comment, email, or social media? (Okay, maybe those methods aren’t so old-fashioned after all. But an inquisition, interrogation, jury duty interview or Miss Universe Pageant have all been done before).
So please, go ahead, ask me anything! (Like, for instance, what’s up with Kara DioGuardi on Idol this season? I mean, canoodling with Simon? Drooling over Casey? Crying??) Or perhaps you’d like to know: how did I make this inimitable cheese bread?
[An early attempt: higher, but too moist in the middle.]
Question Two: Why Am I Craving Bread All of the Sudden?
Now that I’m following Phase II of the ACD (almost a month with a “moderate” score on the ACD questionnaire! Whoopee!), I’m allowed certain new grains and the occasional flour product. Needless to say, I’ve been going to town baking again. And though the sweet side of the recipe folder may remain a little neglected for a while, I’m perfectly happy to play with savory.
I’m not sure why I ended up with a hankering for this type of meal-in-a-loaf (or any bread, really), since I’ve never been a fan of these floury foods in any form. I rarely consume sandwiches (in fact, you’ll find but one mention of a sandwich on this blog, and only two recipes for breads). The idea of white bread–even a really good, crusty Italian ciabatta or French baguette–leaves me feeling “meh.” Now, give me a dense, hearty pumpernickel or a moist, tawny rye, and I’m there. These were the kinds of breads we had in our house growing up–straight from my dad’s butcher shop (in an area where ethnic bakeries abounded); bread was something substantial, hefty, and dense; bread could double as a doorstop, or a means of self-defense (sorta like my confiscated keychain).
Recently, I completed testing for an upcoming review of Celine and Joni’s amazing 500 Vegan Recipes (on the blog soon!) and found myself with some leftover ”veganzola” cheese (the HH and I both loved it, and indeed enjoyed it for a few days in a row, but the recipe yields a huge amount).
Contemplating what I could do with the cheese, it suddenly hit me: “savory bread!”
Question Three: So How Do You Get the Caramel into the Caramilk Cheese into the Bread?
[Starting out with cheese filled savory muffins]
I thought it would be cool to enclose pockets of cheese within the bread so that each slice revealed a coin of the creamy stuff along with other savory goodies such as olives and green onions. But how to accomplish this feat–how to prevent the cheese from melting and dissipating into the bread, effectively disappearing?
I baked up an early batch in muffin form, simply to test the theory; would the cheese remain distinct from the batter? The answer was, clearly, “yes.” And these savory muffins make a great breakfast accompaniment.
I thought the bread would be more visually appealing, however, as a single loaf, so that’s what I tried next (told you I had lots of cheese left over!). Doubling the muffin recipe resulted in a huge slab, but one that required almost 2 hours to bake–and the middle was still a little too moist at that point.
Back to the flouring board.
[The final product: whole loaf success!]
Finally, I tweaked the recipe and proportions (while preserving the same ratios of ingredients–thanks, Michael Ruhlman!) to create a loaf about 3/4 the volume of my first attempt. This one baked up beautifully in just over an hour. I could barely wait for it to cool before tasting it–and when I did finally sink my teeth in, oooh mama! Success!
The combination of tangy, salty cheese; briny, marinated olives; and delicately pungent onion was divine. The cheese remained soft within the moist, dense bread, punctuating each slice with a warm pillow of creaminess. Manna!
Question Four: Sure, I May Have Liked It, But Are My Tastebuds Skewed From Being on the ACD for So Long?
As I sliced up the bread to photograph it for the blog, the HH observed from across the room.
“What is that?” he asked.
“Cheese bread with olives and onions,” I replied, crumbs dribbling from my mouth.
“Yeah, but it’s veeee-gan cheese, right?”
“Yup.” (munch, munch).
He watched me scarf down the first slice and reach for another. “Okay,” he conceded as I bit into it, “let me have a taste.” I handed over a corner of the slice.
He chewed contemplatively. “Hmm. Not bad,” he said. He broke off another piece from the slice and gobbled it up. Then he reached for the bread on the table.
“You can’t eat that yet–I have to take a photo,” I said.
“Well, hurry up,” he scowled, “this is really good.”
And that, dear readers, is when I knew: if an omnivorous, cheese-loving, gluten-eating, generally ornery and skeptical male wanted to chow down on this GF and vegan bread, I had a real winner on my hands.
Question Five: So What Are You Waiting For? Go Bake Bread!
Cheese Filled Onion and Olive Bread (ACD Phase II and Beyond)
This bread is so hearty, so substantial and satisfying that you may find all you need is a light green salad alongside a slice, and you’ve got a meal. And just look at that crumb!
1/4 cup (60 ml) unsweetened applesauce
2 Tbsp (30 ml) tahini (sesame paste)
1-1/4 cups (300 ml) unsweetened almond, soy or hemp milk
1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) apple cider vinegar
2 Tbsp (30 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
3 Tbsp (45 ml) finely ground flax seeds
1/3 cup (80 ml) oil-cured black olives, pitted and cut in half
2-3 green onions, sliced (white and light green parts only)
3/4 cup (90 g) amaranth flour (or use quinoa)
1-1/4 cups (145 g) millet flour
1/2 cup (55 g) soy flour
1 Tbsp (15 ml) arrowroot or organic cornstarch
2-1/4 tsp (12 ml) baking powder
3/4 tsp (7.5 ml) baking soda
1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) fine sea salt
about 1/2 cup (120 ml) of your favorite soft, flavorful “cheese,” homemade or packaged (I used “veganzola” from 500 Vegan Recipes and, in the final loaf, this feta.)
Preheat oven to 350F (190C). Line an 8″ (20 cm) loaf pan with parchment, or spray with nonstick spray.
In a medium bowl, whisk the applesauce and tahini until smooth. Slowly add the soymilk and mix well. Stir in the vinegar, oil and flax seeds. Gently fold in the olives and onion; set aside while you prepare the dry ingredients, or at least 5 minutes (this will allow the flax to absorb excess moisture).
In a large bowl, sift together the amaranth flour, millet flour, soy flour, arrowroot powder, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Add the wet mixture to the dry and stir just to blend (do not overmix or your bread may not rise!). The dough should be the texture of a thick muffin batter.
Very gently, spoon about half the batter into the bottom of the pan (it doesn’t have to be perfect; just estimate), spreading to ensure there are no uncovered spots. Then, using about 2 teaspoons (10 ml) cheese per portion, stagger mounds of cheese across the top of the batter, taking care not to touch the sides of the pan (and ensuring that the hunks of cheese don’t touch each other, either). Carefully spoon the remaining batter over the first half in the pan, gently spreading it to cover the cheese completely.
Bake in preheated oven 70-75 minutes, rotating the pan about halfway through, until the loaf is very deep golden brown on top (the usual test of doneness won’t work here, as the cheese will remain wet; however, if you’re certain you’re poking the loaf where there is no cheese, you can test with a toothpick inserted in the batter).
Allow to cool in the pan for 15 minutes before gently turning the loaf onto a cooling rack. Slice using a sharp knife that has been dipped in hot water and wiped dry between cuts (this will prevent the cheese from sticking to the knife, which can cause the slices to crumble). Especially good warm or at room temperature with melted coconut oil. Makes 8-10 generous slices. May be frozen.
Most of us are familiar with George Bernard Shaw’s dictum, “Youth is wasted on the young.” Well, of course I realized that saying was just a bunch of bunk. . . until I hit 40, that is. At that point, I realized, “Oh, woe, why did I waste my youth on being young??”
There’s no denying we live in a youth-obsessed culture, one in which the elderly are given little if any respect or recognition (though I bet that will all change once Baby Boomers reach their 70s and 80s. . . they do tend to take over everything, don’t they?).
It’s a truism to say that when a woman reaches her 40s (unless she’s a Cougar like Courtney Cox-Arquette), she becomes more or less invisible to the opposite sex. (Seriously. I’ve walked across the street from a bevy of construction workers in shorts and a T-shirt, with nary a glance. The Girls got more flirting than I did!). And why do we stuff the elderly into homes with only each other, like a clothing store full of only black socks–and no other varieties? (When I was last in Montreal, The CFO and I visited a retirement residence into which my dad is considering moving. While the place was modern, clean and provided roomy apartments, good food, and weekly entertainment, his first comment upon leaving the building was, “It’s okay. . . but they’re all so old.” This from a guy who’s 88! Truly, if I inherit even half of my dad’s health and longevity genes, I’ll be a lucky woman, indeed.)
I suppose it’s inevitable that “old” becomes synonymous with “useless” in a culture that builds obsolescence into most inventions. Last week I heard a radio interview by Jian Ghomeshi of CBC’s Q (Jian, you know that I have a massive crush on you, the likes of which I haven’t seen since I was fourteen, right? And that I’m dying to be interviewed on your show, right? I’d be a terrific guest, really. I’ll even bake brownies.).
Jian interviewd Anna Jane Grossman, author of Obsolete: An Encyclopedia of Once-Common Things Passing Us By. Her focus (and she’s barely reached the tail end of her twenties) was items that have already become outdated within our lifetimes. Think eight-track tapes (and, bringing up a close second, video casettes); think cursive writing (and the poor profs who have to mark hand-written exams they can’t decipher); think corner phone booths (sorry, Superman, you’ll just have to stay on Krypton, because over here, you’re out of a change room); think Mix Tapes (and the recurring pleasure you experience from seeing a friend’s handwriting on the song list–well, if you can decipher it); and, perhaps most alarming, think “looking old” (how about Melanie Griffith, Madonna, Mary Tyler Moore or Mickey Rourke? They may not look old, but they don’t exactly look human, either). In our culture, many inventions are superannuated even before some of us can learn to use them (yes, I admit, I still don’t text message).
Well, the recipe for this kugel (really a savory bread pudding) is old. Really old. And, frankly, I still adore it. It was my mom’s recipe, which she got from her mom, who got it from her mom. . . and so on.
This kugel doesn’t include any modern ingredients or preparation methods. You won’t find wasabi paste, matcha green tea powder, or pink sea salt in this baby. You won’t need a hand blender, food processor, or VitaMix to make it. It’s entirely an old-fashioned recipe.
Given my ancestors’ humble Russian beginnings, the ingredients are more reflective of what one might find in a cold-climate farm at the outset of autumn: root vegetables, bread, eggs (which I’ve omitted, of course). And yet, even without flashy ingredients, even without any spiciness or too many seasonings (except fresh dill), this kugel is delicious and remains a long-standing favorite in my home.
The pudding is moist and flavorful, firm in the middle, with low-key flecks of grated carrot, chopped celery and yellow onion. The exterior browns up to a crisp, bronzed crust (in fact, my sisters and I used to wait until Mom placed the platter of kugel on the table, hefty slices piled high, then all pounce at once to be the first to grab a corner piece, as those attained the greatest crust-to-filling ratio after baking).
The dish is quick, easy, and comforting. Great for a holiday (such as the just-passed Rosh Hashanah or the upcoming Thanksgiving) or simply a quiet meal at home. And unlike some other aspect of modern life, the final result will never go out of style.
“Mum, don’t feel bad about that lack of whistles now that you’re. . . um. . . older. I’m sure that if you walked around sans clothing like Elsie and I do, you’d get lots of attention, too.”
My Mother’s Vegetable Bread Kugel
A versatile dish that serves as a wonderful side dish, or can be wrapped and toted along for lunch the next day, eaten at room temperature.
3 Tbsp (45 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
2 large carrots, grated
2 stalks celery, diced
1 large onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 cups (480 ml) vegetable broth or stock, divided
1/3-1/2 cup (80-120 ml, to your taste) fresh dill, chopped
6-8 slices heavy, dense bread of choice, preferably a bit stale (I used a quinoa/millet loaf)
1 pkg (12 ounces or 375 g) Mori-Nu firm or extra firm silken tofu (or use regular silken tofu and decrease the broth by about 1/2 cup or 120 ml)
1/4 cup (60 ml) lightly toasted cashews, or cashew butter
2 Tbsp (30 ml) finely ground flax seeds
Pepper, to taste (add more salt if the broth wasn’t salty enough)
Preheat oven to 350F (180C). Line an 8 x 8″ (20 cm) square pan with parchment, or spray with nonstick spray.
In a large, heavy frypan, heat the oil over medium heat. Add the carrots, celery and onion and sauté until onion is translucent, 7-10 minutes. Add the garlic and cook another minute. Add 1 cup (240 ml) broth and the dill; cover and cook over low heat, stirring occasionally, until all the liquid is absorbed and the vegetables have taken on a golden sheen.
Meanwhile, either cut the bread into cubes or crumble in to a large bowl. Set aside.
In the bowl of a food processor, process the tofu, cashews, flax and remaining 1 cup (240 ml) broth, until very smooth and no traces of nuts are visible.
Turn the tofu mixture, along with the cooked vegetable mixture, into the bowl and stir until everything is well combined and all the bread is coated with the mixture. Smooth the top.
Bake in preheated oven for 30-45 minutes, turning once about halfway through, until edges are deep brown and crispy, and a tester inserted in the center comes out clean but moist. Allow to cool for 10-15 minutes before cutting into squares. Makes 9-12 servings. May be frozen.
The dozen or so of you who were reading my blog last year at this time probably remember how much I hate the snowy season. (How much, you ask? As much as Gepetto hates dishonesty. As much as Ellen loves Portia. As much as the calories in a deep-fried Mars Bar (with whipped cream on top). As much as union disagrees with management. As much as my eternal incredulity at the popularity of Julia Roberts.) This morning, when I emitted a plaintive little lament about the fact that we’ve already surpassed last year’s (record-breaking) snowfall for this date, the HH helpfully piped up, “Yeah, and we’ve still got over a month more of this to go!” Gee, thanks, sweetheart.
So, what to do about a wall of pelting snow every time you leave the house, ice crystals forming on your eyebrows, the grey rime that coats your glasses like vaseline on a camera lens?
Make soup, that’s what.
When I was a carefree singleton* back in the early 90s, I developed a Friday evening cooking ritual. After arriving home from work, I’d change into sweats and a T-shirt, then spend most of the evening cooking food for the following week. By the end of the week, I was usually too pooped to socialize anyway, and I found cooking to be incredibly meditative. (Besides, if anything bettermale intellectually stimulating came up instead, I wasn’t irrevocably tied to my plan; I’d just cook the following day). I’d pack the prepared dishes into plastic containers, then freeze them for consumption later on. A relaxing evening plus seven days of healthy, homemade food–a pretty good arrangement, I thought.
In those days, I tended to cook a lot of soups. Perhaps I was subconsciously emulating my mom, whose chicken soup graced our stovetop every Friday evening as far back as I can remember. In fact, the very first recipe I cooked in my very first apartment was soup–split pea and ham, as I recall (which is odd, since even then I didn’t really like meat, and I’d never tasted ham at all before that–or since). In the interim, I’ve expanded my repertoire a bit, enjoying a variety of traditional or exotic or unusual soups over the years. With its ability to embrace any and all stray vegetables, then bathe them in a warm, soothing broth, vitamin and mineral-rich soup is an ideal meal-in-a-bowl.
Strangely, once the HH and I began seeing each other, I all but stopped making soups on Friday nights (he seemed to think our courtship should take place alongside a wine bottle rather than a stockpot). Then, a couple of weeks ago, I received a copy of Nava Atlas’s newly released Vegan Soups and Hearty Stews for All Seasons (this is a 4th edition of her earlier VegetarianSoups for All Seasons) as part of the book’s virtual tour. Suddenly, soup was back on my radar. And I must tell you, I think this book has singlehandedly renewed my zeal for soup making.
The book is divided by season, so it made sense that the fall and winter offerings would appeal most right now, with innovative and interesting combinations like Broccoli, Apple and Peanut Soup or Almond-Brussels Sprouts Soup (which I just enjoyed for lunch today–splendid!), and classics like Hearty Barley-Bean Soup or Minestrone. But the spring and summer were equally tantalizing, with recipes for Creole Eggplant Soup and Gingery Miso-Spinach Soup and Strawberry Colada Soup. (Now I have yet another reason to wish winter would end soon.)
With our seemingly irrepressible mountains of snow (now taller than the HH, who is over 6 feet/1.8 meters) outside, a hearty winter stew seemed just the right antidote. This Sweet and Sour Cabbage and Bread Stew is a perfectly warming, filling, tasty combination, with a substantial broth, in which you simmer a variety of winter veggies, all imbued with a subtle sweet and piquant tang. Initially, the HH was a bit reluctant to try it (paradoxically, the guy will eat anything and everything if it’s derived from an animal, but is entirely unadventurous when it comes to vegetable dishes). After the first few spoonfuls, however, he pronounced it “a keeper” and was content to have nothing more than this for dinner.
I’m happy to say that I’m even looking forward to getting back in the swing of Friday evening soup-a-thons. And these days, I won’t be cooking alone (hear that, HH?).
“Mum, you know that we’d love to help you cook, too, if we could. There’s just this little matter of the ’no opposable thumbs’ thing. But we’re still more than happy to help clean up the leftovers.”
* Okay, I was never “carefree,” but more like “unattached, at loose ends, having no weekend plans.” The closest I’ve ever gotten to “carefree” was probably during that time before I embraced all the responsibilities and anxieties of adulthood–like, maybe, when I was three.
Sweet and Sour Cabbage and Bread Stew (for ACD-friendly, see note)
Here’s a variation of classic sweet-and-sour cabbage soup, given a bit more heft with bread cubes nestled in each serving.
3 to 4 cups (720 to 960 ml) cubed (about 1 inch) Italian or sourdough bread [I used spelt sourdough--which, as you can see in the photo, comes pre-sliced; still tasted great!]
2 Tbsp (30 ml) olive oil
2 large onions, quartered and thinly sliced
3 to 4 cloves garlic
5 cups (1200 ml) water
2 large carrots, peeled and diced
2 large or 3 medium potatoes, diced
4 cups (960 ml) coarsely shredded green cabbage
1 medium green or red bell pepper, diced
One 16-ounce (450 g) can salt-free diced or stewed tomatoes, undrained
Preheat the oven to 300F (150C). Spread the bread cubes in a single layer on a baking sheet and bake until golden and crisp, about 12 to 15 minutes. Remove from the oven and set aside.
Heat the oil in a large soup pot. Add the onions and garlic and sauté over medium heat until golden, about 10 minutes.
Add the water, carrots, potatoes, cabbage, bell peppers, tomatoes, wine, paprika, and cumin. Bring to a rapid simmer, then lower the heat. Cover and simmer gently for 30 to 35 minutes, or until the vegetables are tender.
Stir in the lemon juice and sugar. There should be a subtle sweet-sour balance. If you’d like it to be more pronounced, add more lemon juice and/or sugar to your liking.
Season with salt and pepper, then simmer over very low heat for 10 minutes longer. If time allows, let the stew stand off the heat for an hour or two, then heat through before serving.
When ready to serve, divide the bread cubes among the serving bowls and ladle the stew over them. The bread will absorb much of the liquid and add a tasty, textural element to the stew.
NOTE: For an ACD-Friendly version (Stage 2 and beyond), use whole-grain, gluten-free bread, and replace wine with unsweetened cranberry juice; replace agave with 10 drops stevia, or more, to taste.
Per serving:
Calories: 231 Total fat: 6 g Protein: 6 g Fiber: 6 g
Carbohydrate: 43 g Cholesterol: 0 mg Sodium: 114 mg
[Quick reminder: Don't forget to go here and enter my contest to win chocolate or treats from my upcoming cookbook! You've got until January 30th to enter.]
Over the past couple of years, the HH and I have developed a fairly steadfast routine: every Tuesday at mid day, we connect for a hefty serving of afternoon delight. (No, no debauchery, silly! Forget the cheeesy song. I’m talking about afternoon culinary delight). To wit, food. To wit, Japanese food. To wit, Sushi.
As our own unique twist on “date night,” we have “date lunch”: at a little sushi bar near the HH’s place of employ, he feasts on various species of marine life (well, I suppose that would more properly be “marine after-life”), and I enjoy some of the best vegetarian sushi I’ve ever tasted. While clacking chopsticks, slathering wasabi and dipping into soy sauce, he reports on his recent work projects, while I regale him with anecdotes about The Girls’ antics. We eat, we laugh, we fight over who gets the last piece of pickled ginger, and then we kiss goodbye and go about the rest of our day. It’s a lovely interlude in an otherwise bland workday.
Well, a few weeks ago at the habitual time and place, I was devastated to discover that the establishment had unceremoniously changed owners. Oh, the new folks are nice enough, but the distinctive sheen of the place had definitely tarnished. (The new vegetarian option consists of 8 pieces of cucumber and avocado maki. Now, how could they possibly think vegetarians want 8 identical pieces of a single variety, when the HH gets a full dozen varieties of raw, slimy oceanic tidbits on his plate?). Haven’t these people heard of the expression, “If it ain’t broke. . .”? Harrumph.
Being fairly close to Toronto’s Chinatown North, we opted that day to try one of the many Asian restaurants in the vicinity instead. I assumed I’d have no trouble finding plenty to eat.
Well, you know what they say about assumptions. (No? It’s even too puerile to repeat here. But there are plenty of others out there who’ll tell you.) I sat down feeling peckish. Perusing the menu, I quickly discovered there was precious little I could consume save steamed veggies and rice. (Not that there’s anything wrong wtih steamed veggies and rice, you understand, but I get plenty of those at home–and certainly don’t feel like driving halfway across the city and dishing out restaurant prices for someone else to throw them on a plate for me).
Yes, every single dish contained at least one ingredient I can’t eat. The few animal-free options all contained wheat (another no-no). Listed under “Vegetable Dishes,” we had Vegetables and Ground Beef; Vegetables and Pork Stir-Fry; Egg Noodles with Vegetables; Chicken and Shrimp with Vegetables. Even the “Vegetable Dumplings” contained ground pork. Argh! (And another “harrumph,” just for good measure. ) Would I have to sit there starving*, I wondered, while the HH gorged himself on beef, chicken, and pork-laden vegetables?
And then, I noticed these: Scallion Pancakes. Simplicity itself, these pan-fried cakes studded with rings of shiny green onion were cut into four triangles, served with a variety of dipping sauces. Humble, yet divine; my mouth began to water. And then, I realized: they were made with wheat flour. Which I am not supposed to eat.
True, my wheat sensitivity induces heartburn, bloating, and sometimes an achy stomach a couple of hours after ingesting it. True, wheat encourages my inflamed sinuses to close up shop entirely, forcing me to pant through my mouth like a dog in July. True, any sane person in my situation would have passed on the wheat. Also true? I was hungry. Those pancakes were the sole item on the menu that appealed to me. I ordered them.
And, by golly, I loved them! (Well, for about 10 minutes, after which a volcano erupted in my chest, my stomach inflated like a beach ball, and my nasal passages sealed up like a mine shaft collapsing).
After reading about Madhur Jaffrey’s World Vegetarianseveral times on Lisa’s blog, I finally picked it up from the library a few weeks ago. And wouldn’t you know–right there, tucked near the back of the book, was a recipe for Chinese Scallion Cakes! I was elated. Since the entire recipe contains only five ingredients (two of which are salt and pepper), I felt pretty certain I could adapt these with (Ricki-friendly) spelt flour instead of wheat. I did, and guess what? They replicated the restaurant variety almost perfectly.
The HH and I were so smitten with the results that we polished off two pancakes just on their own, with no accompaniments. The second time round, we used them as a base for leftover dal, and they were spectacular. I’m not generally a fan of salty foods, but something about the combination of salt and browned green onion (or would that be green browned onion?) is heavenly.
I toned down the fat content by simply brushing the raw pancakes with olive oil (instead of following the original directions for filling a frypan with the stuff, as if drawing a bubble bath or something). The results worked out pretty well, I’d say, as I couldn’t tell the difference in taste.
These boasted a crisp and even somewhat flaky exterior, with chewy insides punctuated here and there by the partially caramelized green onion. My only regret is not having coarse sea salt in the house to sprinkle on top, as it would have made for a more photogenic bread. (You’re actually meant to sprinkle the salt into the batter, anyway–but I forgot, so scattered it on top once the bread was cooked).
I’ve copied the recipe exactly as written because the method is quite particular. It appears long and complicated, but once you’ve made them once, you’ll see how easy it is to prepare these wonderful savory cakes at home. I’d even whip them up for a quick lunch–except not on the days I meet the HH, of course.
(Oh, and I made these again this morning, in honor of Chinese New Year. Happy New Year to all who celebrate on Monday! )
*Clearly, not literally. But in terms of gustatory satisfaction, for sure.
Chinese Scallion Pancakes*
adapted from Madhur Jaffrey’s World Vegetarian
An easy and quick homemade flatbread that you can whip up while your dinner warms in the oven or the pot. With only 5 ingredients, these could qualify as a Flash in the Pan recipe–once you get the method down pat, that is.
3-3/4 cups (525 g.) light spelt flour
about 5 Tbsp. (75 ml.) peanut or olive oil, divided
10 scallions, cut into rounds (both white and green parts)
1 tsp. (5 ml.) fine or coarse sea salt
1 tsp. (5 ml.) pepper, or to taste
Put the flour in a bowl. Add about 1-1/4 cups (300 ml.) of warm water, mixing as you go to make a soft dough. Collect all the dough together and make a ball. Knead very briefly [spelt will toughen faster than wheat if over-kneaded] and make a ball again. Cover with a damp cloth and set aside for 15 to 20 minutes.
Flour a large work surfact thoroughly. Put the dough ball in the center. Put some flour on top of the dough ball and roll out a 20-inch (50 cm.) round. (Dust with flour whenever you need to). First spread about 4 Tbsp. (60 ml.) of the oil on the round, and then scatter the scallions evenly over the surface. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Now roll up the round tightly into a long fat snake. Pinch the “snake” into 4 equal parts.
Take one of the snake “logs” and put it in fron of you. Put your hands on either edge (ie, the cut edges). Twist one end away from you and one end toward you in order to close the ends tightly shut [I thought of a wrapper on a piece of hard candy]. You will be twisting the entire log slightly, but that is as it should be. Now stand the log on one end and push down to get a patty. Make all the patties this way and keep them well floured.
Flour the work surface again. Roll out one of the patties, always going outward from the cetner and dusting with flour whenever you need to, until you have a 7-inch (18 cm.) round. Roll out all the cakes this way, making sure you keep them all in a cool spot well dusted with flour.
Heat a nonstick frypan over medium heat. Brush one side of the first cake with oil, and place oil-side down in the frypan; then brush the top with oil as well. Cook 3 to 4 minutes, or until dark brown in spots on the bottom. Flip the pancake and cook another 3 minutes or so, until that side is browned as well. Place on a plate (line with paper towel to absorb some of the oil, if desired). Make all the cakes this way.
Cut each pancake into 4 and serve immediately. Makes 4 large cakes.
[*Looking for a gluten-free version? I made it here.]
A few of you asked for the Pumpkin Bread Pudding recipe about which I posted yesterday. Since I wasn’t entirely thrilled with the pumpkin bread on its own, and I was most assuredly dissatisfied with the sweetened condensed milk (the base for the caramel sauce) on its own, I hadn’t intended to post the recipe.
But you know what they say about the sum of individual parts. . . despite the haphazard way the dish came together, it ended up being a winner, so I’ll try to reconstruct the recipe here. It was a huge hit and would make a spectacular New Year’s Eve dessert served in wine or martini glasses.
[BIG caveat: I didn't take notes while making this, so you may have to play with proportions a bit, particularly with the caramel sauce. Results may vary.]
Pumpkin Bread Pudding with Warm Caramel Sauce (GF option)
With pumpkin in both the bread and the “custard” in which it bakes, this pudding is definitely rich in pumpkin. Lightly spiced, this moist bread pudding is highlighted with a rum-infused caramel sauce.
For the Bread Pudding:
1 pre-baked pumpkin quick bread, such as the one in Simple Treatsor this or this (for GF) or this (not vegan) or this (I didn’t add raisins or nuts to mine, however)
1/4 cup (60 ml.) old-fashioned rolled oats (not quick or instant)
1/2 cup (120 ml.) packed pumpkin purée (not pie filling)
1 tsp. (5 ml.) pure vanilla extract
1/2 cup (120 ml.) agave nectar, light or dark
1 Tbsp. (15 ml.) organic cornstarch or arrowroot powder
1/8 tsp. fine sea salt
For the Caramel Sauce:
1 recipe of condensed milk (I used agave instead of sugar and almond milk instead of soy)**
about 1/4 cup brown rice syrup
about 1/4 cup coconut oil
2-4 Tbsp. (30-60 ml.) rum, if desired
pinch fine sea salt
Preheat oven to 350 F (180 C). Lightly grease a nonreactive (glass or ceramic) 9-inch (22.5 cm.) square pan or soufflé dish.
Slice the bread into thick slices, about 2 inches (5 cm.) thick. Place on a cookie sheet and bake for about 10 minutes on each side to dry out the bread somewhat (alternately, if you’ve already got stale bread–great!). Cool the bread and break it into bite-sized chunks; place in a large bowl.
In a blender, grind the oats until they are the consistency of a coarse meal. Add the remaining ingredients and blend until smooth. Pour the mixture over the bread in the bowl, pushing the bread down with the back of a spoon so that all pieces are submerged. Allow to sit 20-30 minutes, pressing the bread back down occasionally, until the bread is completely soaked through (there may still be liquid left in the bottom of the bowl; this is fine).
When the bread is all soaked, spoon the mixture into the prepared pan, and smooth the top as best you can.
Bake in preheated oven 40-50 minutes, until puffed and browned on top and a knife inserted in the centre comes out wet but clean. Allow to cool at least 10 minutes before serving. Serve warm with caramel sauce, at room temperature, or cold. Makes 8-12 servings.
Caramel Sauce:
Follow directions for sweetened condensed milk, cooking until the milk is reduced to 1 cup. Add remaining ingredients and heat over medium-low heat until the mixture starts to bubble; then continue to cook for another 5-10 minutes until the sauce is thick and has darkened. To test if it’s ready, pour about a teaspoon of the sauce into a small, chilled bowl. If it thickens to the desired consistency, it’s ready; if it’s still too thin, cook and stir another 5-10 minutes. Pour over warm pumpkin bread pudding.
**Note: I used the condensed milk as the base for caramel sauce because I’d already made it for another purpose, and wasn’t happy with the result for that recipe. . . so decided to turn it into caramel sauce. Of course, you could just use ready-made sauce, or any other recipe for caramel sauce if you prefer. [UPDATE, November 2011: it appears that the original recipe I linked to is no longer available, so I've linked to a recent recipe I found on the internet. Worth a try!].
*No, we haven’t hired servants, silly! I’m talking about bread.
Well, last night the HH and I returned from a pre-Canada Day junket to Montreal, where, along with the CFO and the Nurse and her husband, we took my dad out to dinner for his (you may wish to sit down) eighty-seventh birthday. Eighty seven! Much like George Burns when it comes to longevity (and, come to think of it, humor as well), my dad is one of those people who’s always eaten well and exercised daily (now, why wasn’t I lucky enough to inherit that body-care ethic?). All that, and he also looks great for his age, sporting a full head of hair (his own, I might note).
It was a lovely, albeit short, visit, with a brunch stop at one of my favorite Montreal restaurants, Aux Vivres, where the HH and I enjoyed smoothies, a “Plat Complet” (tofu scramble, tempeh bacon, salad, sweet potato wedges, and home-baked cornbread) and some amazing banana-chocolate pie to cap it all off. In dire need of a walk after all the grub, we squeezed in some alone time to take in a few beats at the Montreal Jazz Festival, then meandered along rue Sainte-Catherine for some window shopping. After dinner with friends that involved much chatter and clinking of wine glasses, we headed back to Toronto yesterday morning and arrived home in good time (only 5 hours!).
Because of my peculiar dietary restrictions in recent years, I’ve learned when traveling to always tote along a cooler of food whenever I venture into unknown culinary territory. This time, we lugged a veritable feast with us: leftover salad, bread, scones, and fruits from the previous week. And with bar fridges now standard in most hotel rooms, I was able to keep the stash relatively fresh until departure time, so we could once again partake of the cooler’s bounty on our way home. The best of which was Olive and Sundried Tomato Bread–baked by yours truly!
Now, many of you know that I have a dread fear of baking bread. Not only because I was diagnosed with candidiasisyears ago and had to forgo the stuff (along with anything else that contained yeast, living or dead) for two full years. Not only because baking with yeast is an art as well as a craft, for which it sometimes takes years of practise to develop a true “feel” (as much as I like the idea of a machine, that isn’t “real” homemade bread to me). Not only because I was privileged to grow up in a house where we never once were served the soft styrofoam that is Wonder Bread; with an immigrant father and a Russian-descended mother, we had the real, peasant-stock, brown-as-clay, authentic stuff: dense, dark, moist and infused with with rye, molasses, and seeds. And (perhaps most especially), because my sole attempt at baking bread from scratch resulted in a loaf the top of which was so flat and heavy, it could have been called the Australopithecus of breads.
So you see, there’s a good reason why I’m a tad bread-bashful. But this past weekend, we savored the remnants of a loaf I’d baked the previous week–a loaf which was already number two in a series. I may not have overcome my yeast phobia just yet, but in the meantime, I’ve discovered an alternative that does a mean impersonation and is, in my opinion, maybe even better tasting. The recipe is a little less intimidating than yeast-based breads, and a little more foolproof.
Its secret ingredient? Beer! (Besides, it’s Canada Day today, and beer is just so. . . Canadian).
I’ve never been much of a beer drinker (unless you count that one starry-eyed lunch at the local pub with my mentor, when I naively attempted to keep pace with his more practised consumption. . . 13 beers later, I lost track of the number, but I do remember some fairly maudlin entries in my journal that evening). I have, however, been familiar with the concept of beer bread for quite some time. I first learned about this delicacy from the CFO way back in the 1980s, when she read about it in Bon Appétit magazine and immediately proceeded to bake a basic beer-based loaf (which she should have sold along with seashells down by the seashore, but that would have been one too many tongue-twisters in the same sentence).
I don’t know its origin, but beer bread is definitely considered a classic in the recipe canon by now. Since I use spelt in most of my baking, however, I decided to alter the generic version just a tad. Spelt is both more hearty and more heavy than regular all purpose flour, so I included some other full-bodied additions for more gustatory dimension to the bread, tossing in some chopped olives and sundried tomatoes, then sprinkling the top with rosemary. For the second incarnation, I added dried basil right into the batter instead.
And how did it turn out? As it happened, my friend the Eternal Optimist joined us for dinner that night, before she and I headed off to a movie (Sex and the City, finally; yes, the audience was entirely female, yes, I thoroughly enjoyed it, and yes, I’m revealing my advanced age by admitting this). Along with a dinner of lentil-pistachio patties, raw kale salad, and spicy sweet potato “fries“, I served up some freshly baked olive and sundried tomato bread. Well, the EO couldn’t stop raving about it! With a moist, yeasty interior studded with salty, briny olives and chewy tomato, the bread provides a perfect balance between rustic and au courant. Though I’m not much of a sandwich lover, I could happily subsist on this bread alone.
With its dead-easy method and incredible final product, this loaf has eradicated my fear of bread baking. At the same time, however, it’s also eliminated any need to venture into yeast-based varieties. . . I’d be happy to consume just beer bread for the rest of my days. And even though I still have no desire to drink the stuff, each time I pour a bottleful into my bread batter, I feel just a little more patriotic.
Happy Canada Day, all. And to our American cousins, both literal and figurative–hope you all have a wonderful July 4th holiday!
Beer Bread with Olives and Sundried Tomatoes
This is a bread with substance, one that will fill your belly and satisfy your taste buds at the same time. Because spelt flour can dry out quickly, I stored this in a plastic bag in the fridge. If you don’t consume the bread within about 4 days, wrap the rest and freeze it for later.
1-1/2 cups light spelt flour
1 cup whole spelt flour
2/3 cups whole barley flour
2 Tbsp. baking powder
3/4 tsp. sea salt
2 Tbsp. fresh chopped basil or 1 tsp. dried; or other herbs of choice
2 Tbsp. agave nectar
1/2 cup olives, pitted and chopped (I used a combination of black and pimento-stuffed)
1/3 cup sundried tomatoes, soaked for 5 minutes in hot water, drained and chopped
1 bottle (12 oz.) beer (use one you’d be willing to drink; beer may be the quintessential Canadian beverage, but I used Corona for this bread–it’s what the HH had in the house)
1 Tbsp. melted coconut butter or olive oil, optional
Preheat oven to 325F. Lightly grease a loaf pan or line with parchment.
In a large bowl, sift together the flours, baking powder, and salt. Stir in the herbs and set aside.
In a small bowl, mix together the agave nectar, olives, and tomatoes and stir just to coat. Pour the beer directly onto the flour mixture in the bowl, add the olive mixture, and then stir just to blend. Do not overmix (it’s okay if tiny lumps of flour remain here and there). The batter will be thick.
Turn the mixture into the pan and smooth to even the top. Sprinkle with more herbs if desired.
Bake in preheated oven 35 minutes, then turn the loaf a quarter turn and continue to bake for 15-25 more minutes, until top is dark golden and a tester inserted in the middle of the loaf comes out clean. If desired, before turning the pan and continuing to bake, brush with melted coconut butter or olive oil.
Cool at least 10 minutes before removing to a rack pan and slicing. The bread can be eated warm, but will be a bit sticky when sliced. This is great warm or at room temperature. Makes one loaf. May be frozen.
I considered going back to basics and entitling this post, simply, ”Bread and Spread,” but decided against the too-generic descriptor (even though it does offer up a lovely rhyme). But these two foods, when eaten together, really could inspire poetry (if you’ll forgive the extended metaphor), so I opted for my slightly rhapsodic title instead. And besides, with Easter coming up tomorrow, “pastoral” seemed like the right choice.
I’ve been hankering after this Potato Bread ever since I read about it a while back on Johanna’s blog (and originally posted on Redacted Recipes). Johanna’s version of the recipe, bespeckled with little amethyst wisps of grated purple potatoes, was not only visually beautiful, but her post also described the bread itself–its taste and texture–as veritably irresistible.
Now, I’m not a huge fan of bread per se (I rarely, if ever, eat sandwiches–though I made an exception for a Tempeh Ruben a while back). If I do eat bread, I want it to be the dense, dark, whole-grain kind that originated in an anonymous Eastern European country. This sounded like just the ticket, so I set about altering the ingredients to render them a bit more NAG-friendly.
In the end, I baked this bread three times (I forced myself to stop at three, because I also ended up eating most of each one!). Because the original recipe contained cheese, I substituted nutritional yeast to provide a similar flavor. My first effort (right) contained a bit too much yeast, I’m afraid, and the sharp astringency was a little overpowering. With attempt number two, I halved the yeast, but added diced avocado to emulate chunks of soft feta cheese scattered throughout the bread (photo below).
(Ehm, er. . . wouldn’t recommend this one. I might try the avoca-cheese again in future, but I’d use much less and definitely cut the chunks very small; that way, it might just work).
Third time was definitely the charm: I introduced chopped roma tomato and subbed fresh dill instead of thyme. Number Three (photo below) was, by far, my favorite.
As Johanna attested, this bread was fantastic. Even though mine isn’t quite as pretty to look at as hers, the moist, dense interior and perfectly balanced flavors of the green onion, cheesiness, and potato worked in agreeable harmony. Each bite provided a slightly different mosaic of flavors, each with its own unique configuration and gustatory sparkle. I, too, had to stop myself from consuming too much of this delightful loaf at one sitting.
And while it was stellar all on its own, the bread also made a perfect base for a favorite spread of mine, Carrot Pâté. I created the latter recipe about five years ago (when I first started teaching cooking classes), as a way to veganize a fabulous pâté I’d been preparing for over 10 years before that (back when favorite recipes had to be clipped from magazine pages and preserved in file folders).
Most of the carrots we consume around here tend toward the pre-peeled, miniature variety (aka “baby carrots”). Those are what we feed The Girls as treats, and, equally often, as “dessert” after dinner. And although Elsie adores the minis (and will even occasionally bare her teeth at Chaser for the culinary privilege), she turns her wet, black nose up with disdain at the regular, full-sized kind. (Once, I ran out of the miniatures, and tried feeding her ordinary organic carrots. I took great care to cut them into strips approximately the same size as baby carrots. She examined my offering like a mortician views a corpse, let out a little contemptuous snort, and walked away. Huh?) Have you ever known a DOG that’s a picky eater? And not only that–this is a dog whose puppyhood was characterized by eating poo for dessert! But no; no regular carrots for this Prima Donna.
“Um, excuse me, Mum, but if I might just interject to point out that the baby carrots are harvested much earlier in the growth cycle and are, therefore, significantly sweeter? And also that you didn’t peel those big ones, either, Mum. So they still retained all those little bumps and ridges on the exterior, which was rather irritating to my sensitive gums and teeth. Just saying.”
And while it’s technically a pâté, I actually prefer to eat this for breakfast. With the sweetness of carrots and light, custardy texture courtesy of silken tofu, it’s a perfect morning accompaniment. Along with the bread, you’ll be getting your morning serving of protein, veggies, and carbs, all in one delicious repast. In fact, this would be an ideal pairing for a leisurely Easter Brunch, if you haven’t got your entire menu set already.
I thought this meal would be a great submission to Weekend Breakfast Blogging, which was created by Nandita at Saffron Trail and is being hosted this month by Mansi of Fun and Food. The theme this month is “Balanced Breakfast Meals.”
(“Actually, Mum, I love this pâté even when you make it with “those” carrots. Pureeing the carrots makes them so much more palatable. So please feel free to share.“)
And to those of you who celebrate it, Happy Easter, all!
You will quickly become addicted to this hearty, moist, and filling bread–be warned! I’ve included my own adaptation of the recipe here.
1-3/4 cups light spelt flour
2 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. sea salt
1/2 tsp. smoked paprika
1 Yukon Gold potato, grated
2 Tbsp. nutritional yeast
5 green onions (white and light green part only), finely sliced
1-2 Tbsp. freshly chopped dill
1 small Roma tomato, chopped
1 Tbsp. ground flax seeds
1/2-2/3 cup plain soymilk, as required
1 tsp. grainy Dijon mustard
Preheat oven to 375F (190C). Lightly grease a cookie sheet, or line with parchment paper.
In a measuring cup, mix together the flax, 1/2 cup soymilk, and mustard; set aside.
In a medium mixing bowl, sSift flour, baking powder, salt, and paprika. Add the grated potato, nutritional yeast, onions, dill, and tomato and toss with your hands until all the vegetables are coated.
Pour the wet mixture over the flour mixture and toss with a fork until everthing comes together in “a sticky, shaggy dough” (at this point, if the dough is too dry, add the remaining soymilk).
Transfer the dough to the baking sheet and shape it into a domed round. Bake for 40-45 minutes, turning once around halfway through, until the top of the bread is deep golden and the loaf has a slightly hollow sound when tapped on the bottom. Allow to cool before devouring. May be frozen.
Vegan Carrot Pâté
If you consider carrots as mundane, plain-Jane, plebeian roots to be served only when drenched in sweet glaze or when playing second fiddle in a duo with peas, you’re in for a real treat with this pâté.
1 pound (450 g.) carrots (about 10 medium carrots)
2 Tbsp. (30 ml.) olive oil
2 Tbsp. (30 ml.) malt vinegar
2 Tbsp. (30 ml.) light miso
1/2 tsp. (2.5 ml.) dried thyme
1-1/2 c. (about 370 ml.) firm silken tofu (such as Mori-Nu)
2 Tbsp. (30 ml.) organic cornstarch
1/2 c. (120 ml.) chopped fresh parsley or cilantroPreheat oven to 325 F. Grease a small loaf pan, line with waxed paper, and grease paper. Set aside. (Note: You may also bake the pâté in individual mini loaf pans; simply spray each pan well with nonstick spray before filling).Cook carrots, covered, in lightly salted water until tender. Drain and cool.In a food processor, whir the carrots until well pureed. Add remaining ingredients and process until completely smooth and no traces of tofu remain.
Pour the mixture into the loaf pan. Bake in preheated oven for 50-60 minutes, until a knife inserted in centre comes out clean.
Let cool on a rack. Refrigerate at least 4 hours or overnight. To unmold, loosen edges slightly and turn out onto a platter. Remove waxed paper and garnish as desired. Spread on crackers or bread.
This recipe is suitable for gluten free, soy-free, vegan, and ACD diets (contains coconut milk).
