Diet, Dessert and Dogs

Whenever we visit my family in Montreal as we did this past weekend, I return to Toronto feeling a little discombobulated.  Since I was a callow young’un when I moved away from home (at 17), I never really got to know La Belle Ville that well before I left, so I always feel like a tourist when I return.  At the same time, these somewhat frenetic, drive-by junkets (never more than 2 days long) tend to be so micro-scheduled that our itinerary is often tighter than one of Madonna’s corsets. 

Regarding our “visits,” the HH once remarked, “I’ve been coming to Montreal with you for ten years, and all I’ve ever seen is a hotel, your dad’s house and your sister’s apartment.”  Unfortunately, too true, and this last trip was no exception.

Still, I do enjoy reuniting with family and friends, even if for a few minutes each during out revolving-door visits.  And despite my anxiety over a still-tentative back, the driving was fine.  By late Sunday, we’d arrived back in Toronto, picked up The Girls from doggie daycare (“Thank God you came back, Mum!  We thought you had abandoned us forever!“) and returned home to feed them–and us.

Striding into the empty house, setting down bags and opening windows, I felt the familiar combination of exhaustion, relief, and hunger that always occurs upon returning home after a long trip. A quick glance in the refrigerator revealed a sad inventory of the following: one carton of firm tofu; a lone zucchini (looking almost as tired as I felt); a bag of baby potatoes sorely in need of attention; a bunch of fresh tarragon (bought on a whim after I was inspired by Lucy‘s fabulous post on Leek and Flageolet Soup), and a pint of grape tomatoes, sporting an uncanny resemblance to fingertips that have lingered too long in a warm bath. (And isn’t it interesting how, even though everything here in Canada is metric and I always refer to liquids in those terms–I would never say “a quart of milk”–that I still think of those little cartons for berries or grape tomatoes as “pints”?). 

Faced with this unpromising array of tired, wizened produce, the HH responded with a characteristic reaction:  ”Okay, let’s go out to eat.” 

Now, I do believe that anyone who knows me well would never describe me as ”extravagant.”  In fact, I am rather moderate in my spending habits. Come to think of it, I am extremely economical as a  rule.  Well, actually, I’m even what you might call unbelievably frugal most of the time.  Parsimonious, even.  Oh, all right, fine, I admit it!  I am stingy!  I’m a tightwad!  I’m a total cheapskate! 

Really, I hate spending money unnecessarily. I will do my darndest never to pay a higher price for an article I KNOW costs less elsewhere. I actually find it fun to plan out a budget; I get a kick out of (literally) saving my pennies; I thoroughly enjoy scanning the grocery flyers so that I can plan out a shopping route worthy of a military operation. As a shopper, I experience a little frisson of pride every time I nab one of those funky sweaters I’ve ogled in the store window all season, now at 50% off (even if I don’t actually need a funky sweater and only manage to wear it once before stumbling upon it again years later, abandoned at the bottom of a drawer, at which time I pack it up to send to Goodwill).

As a result, there’s no greater crime in our house than spending money on a restaurant meal if it means throwing away otherwise perfectly good food.

And so, after having just spent a small fortune on travel, boarding The Girls, AND an opulent dinner last week, I was faced wtih my mission, and I chose to accept it: make use of all those leftovers in the fridge–even those shrivelled, elderly tomatoes. 

“No way,” I responded, “I can make something out of this.  No sense in wasting it.” (Yep, if ever there were a couple who embodied the phrase, “opposites attract,” the HH and I would be it).

Cooking tofu for the HH has become quite a challenge of late, as there are very few tofu-centric meals he’ll deign to eat.  And while he did adore my tofu omelette a while back, the prospect of cooking and flipping four of them just then was beyond the bounds of my remaining energy. 

I decided to try a frittata.  I love fritattas, and hadn’t had one in ages.  Besides, like George and Jerry propounding on salsa, I may like the final product, but love the sound of the word even more:  free-TA-ta.  Like some rollicking anthem a group of suffragettes might have sung as they turned on their heels and sashayed off into the sunset. 

My only real problem was the pile of slightly shrivelly tomatoes, too old to attract a suitor, yet still too fresh to start dispensing sage advice to the grandchildren.  Then I remembered a great recipe from Martha Stewart (who is, herself, still rather spry looking–even though, in fact, old enough to start dispensing sage advice to the grandchildren) for oven-roated tomatoes.  The slow heat renders them no longer really juicy, but not dry, either, dehydrated just enough to intensify the natural sweetness of the fruit. And with grape tomatoes, the oven time could be cut down considerably.

So, while the red grapes roasted, I parboiled the potatoes and zucchini, sliced into rounds.   For the base of the fritatta, I employed a variation of my original omelette mixture with a few modifications to create a more savory, firmer texture.  I added the chopped tarragon, which brought it all together with its intense grassy color, light flavor and slightly flowery aroma.

Overall, this was a perfect homecoming dinner:  simple, satisfying, evoking springtime and–much to my delight–highly economical.  And since this is so chock-full of veggies, I’ve decided to submit it to the weekly ARF/5-A-Day event, hosted by Cate at Sweetnicks.  You can check the full roundup every Tuesday!

Happy Earth Day, everyone!

Tofu Frittata with Potatoes, Zucchini and Oven Roasted Grape Tomatoes

Hearty and colorful with healthy veggies, this dish makes a wonderful light dinner or showpiece for a brunch table.  Of course, you can vary the veggies to your taste (just keep the basic volume about the same).  If you don’t feel like roasting your tomatoes, just cut them in half and use them as-is. 

2 Tbsp. extra virgin olive oil, divided

1 medium onion, sliced thinly

1 medium zucchini, sliced into thin rounds

1 large potato (about 200 g.), cut in quarters and sliced into thin rounds; or use 3 baby potatoes

about 1 cup pre-roasted grape tomatoes, or about 1-1/3 cups fresh, cut in half

1/2 cup plus 2/3 cups vegetable broth or stock

1 pound (about 500 g.) firm or extra-firm tofu

1/4 cup (about 60 ml.) nutritional yeast

3 Tbsp. (45 ml.) potato starch

1/2 tsp. (2.5 ml.) onion powder (not salt)

1 tsp. (5 ml.) turmeric

1 Tbsp. (15 ml.) cashew butter

2 Tbsp. fresh tarragon, chopped

Preheat oven to 350F (180C).  Grease a 9 or 10 inch tart pan, souffle dish, or a 9 inch square pan.

In a large frypan, heat 1 tbsp. olive oil over medium heat.  Add the onion, zucchini, and potato, and cook for about 5 minutes, just until the vegetables start to wilt.  Add the 1/2 cup vegetable broth, cover, and cook for another 10-15 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the potatoes are tender and the onion is beginning to brown. Turn off heat.

In a food processor, mix the tofu, nutritional yeast, remaining 2/3 cup broth, onion powder, turmeric, remaining 1tbsp. olive oil, and cashew butter, whirring until very smooth and evenly textured.  Turn the mixture into a large bowl, and stir in the tarragon.

Add the vegetable mixture to the tofu and stir to blend well.  Spread the mixture into prepared pan and bake for 40-45 minutes, until firm and just beginning to brown on the edges.  Cut into wedges to serve.  Makes 8 servings.

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!

Cheesy Onion Potato Bread and Carrot Pâté

Cheesy Onion Potato Bread

adapted from Green Gourmet Giraffe

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 cilantro  Preheat 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.

Makes about 16 slices (8-10 servings).

I really hate making mistakes.  Not only because they sometimes wreak havoc (“What?  The model of Stonehenge on stage was supposed to be 18 FEET high, not 18 inches???” or, “What?  But I thought the BLUE was the ‘panic button,’ Mr. President!!!”), but also because they make me feel really knuckle-brained sometimes (“Um, HH, can you come pick me up?  I’m kind of stranded out here in the woods with The Girls. I’ve locked my keys in the car. . . and it’s running.*”).

Of course, that’s not to say that I don’t have my share of doozies lurking around in my past (though at least mine aren’t as egregious as the  Y2K fiasco, or 8-track tapes, or Julia Roberts in Mary Ryan, Steel Magnolias The Pelican Brief Stepmom anything except Pretty Woman).  True, there were those three months I dated philandering Rocker Guy (he of the black leather pants); but for the most part, my mistakes tend to the be the innocuous kind, such as dialing my friend Babe’s number when I meant to call the CFO instead (I may be great at remembering phone numbers, but I don’t always note to whom they are attached); or buying decaf instead of regular; or wearing stripes with paisley (which, as we all know, couldn’t possibly go together). 

And then there’s the entire gamut of food mistakes.

Salt instead of sugar?  Done it.  Chocolate seized while melting? Been there. Pie crust with soggy bottom?  Don’t ask. Noodles so al dente they could double as a gardening implement?  You betcha.  Usually, these mishaps don’t bother me too much.  Especially when it comes to baking, I realize that the process is so mercurial that what works perfectly one day may turn out completely different the next, so I compensate by adding extra sweetener, reducing the amount of flour, substituting a different kind of nut, or doing whatever is required to appease the petulant confection.   

When it comes to cooking, I’m less inclined to experiment.  Yet that’s exactly what I did this past weekend, purely as a result of my own gastronomical gaffes. 

You know how some women will work an entire outfit around a single accesory? For instance, they might spy a cute little fuschia-and-orange flowered scarf and then go out and purchase matching pumps, belt, handbag and turtleneck, just so they can wear that scarf to a dinner party on Saturday night.  In the end, that little rectangular scrap of rayon costs $872.48.  Well, I must confess, I am that woman when it comes to ingredients.  Which brings me to. . . . The Mistake of the Miso.

Mistake Number One:  On Sunday, I decided to construct a brunch menu based on some extra miso gravy in the fridge. Originally, I’d planned to serve the gravy with sweet potato fries for dinner on Saturday, only to discover that I’d grated the last potato as part of The Girls’ dinner the previous night.  (“And we really did appreciate that, Mum.  But don’t worry about the extra gravy–we’d be happy to help you out with that.”)

Having gravy but nothing to slather it on, my imagination went to work. Mashed potatoes and gravy at brunch?  Excellent. But what to accompany it?  I pulled out a recipe I’d been eyeing for Tempeh-White Bean sausage patties from Vegan with a Vengeance .  I planned to finish off the plate with simple pancakes sans the typical fanfare (my usual recipe contains fruit and other extras, not necessary here).  Everything, it appeared, was in order.  

Mistake Number Two: Since the sausages were somewhat time-intensive, I started with those. Isa does caution that these are softer than typical processed sausages, but mine fell completely apart on the plate, looking something like shards of clay from an old planter that had fallen off the windowsill.  Would the HH eat broken patties? They did smell heavenly, however, so I set any worries aside and kept them warm while I moved on to the pancakes.

Mistake Number Three: Ah, yes, bad things always come in threes, don’t they? Perhaps it was something in the air.  Perhaps it’s finally time to fill that new eyeglass prescription.  Whatever the reason, the pancakes were a disaster as well.  As thin as the line between sexy and hooker; as flat as the line before you call a Code Blue; and altogether too chewy, though not quite enough to cross the line from springy over to rubbery. I knew these would not pass HH muster, as my Honey favors airy, light, cake-like pancakes.  (“Mum, seriously, we can help you out with that! Just toss a couple our way. . . “).

These griddle cakes were, it occurred to me, much more akin to crepes than true pancakes (though, according to Epicurious, a crepe is “the French word for ‘pancake,’” which would suggest the only difference between the two is the language in which you mumble,  “Please pass the syrup”).  For many of us, however, crepes evoke a thinner, more flexible cake, suitable for enveloping a sweet or savory filling.  It’s sort of like the distinction between a scone and a biscuit, I think; but to get the scoop on that one, you’ll have to read Johanna’s blog.)

 So.  I found myself with crepes.  And decided to just go along with that. 

Rectifying all the Mistakes in a Single Delectable Brunch: In the end, I decided to re-assign the basic elements of the meal,  crumbling the sausages as if they were ground meat, and mixing in a few chopped veggies. I stuffed this mixture into the crepes, then smothered the whole shebang with miso gravy.  The dish was accompanied by a tried-and-true dandelion salad.

The resultant meal was a bit more elaborate than I’d anticipated, perhaps, but truly memorable. The HH appeared to relish every mouthful, peppering the meal with an occasional interjection of “Very nice,” or “Very tasty,” somewhat like Anthony Hopkins in 84 Charing Cross Road.  When he’d polished off the first crepe, he requested another, and thoroughly enjoyed that one, too. 

I once read that “there are no mistakes in cooking, only new recipes.”  I can only agree. And this new recipe is definitely a keeper–make no mistake about it.  

Because it worked out so well, I’m submitting this dish as my entry to Weekend Breakfast Blogging, the event started by Nandita and this month hosted by Suganya at Tasty Palettes.

Savory Filled Crepes

This dish makes a satisfying, filling brunch or light dinner.  Vary the filling ingredients according to your own tastes–we didn’t have any mushrooms when I made this, but I think they’d be excellent in the filling, too.

Filling:

“sausage” patties equivalent to about 5 patties, crumbled (I used the Tempeh-White Bean Sausages from Vegan with a Vengeance)

1 Tbsp. extra virgin olive oil

1 rib celery, diced

1 small onion, chopped

1/2 red pepper, chopped

Crepes:

3/4 cups plain soymilk

1 Tbsp. extra virgin olive oil

1 Tbsp. ground flax seeds

3/4 cups whole or light spelt flour

pinch salt

1 tsp. baking powder

1 recipe Miso Gravy (or gravy of your choice)

Make the filling:  In a nonstick frypan, heat the oil over medium heat.  Add the sausage mixture and vegetables, and saute until the onion is translucent, up to 10 minutes.  Keep stirring the mixture so that the sausage crumbles and resembles ground meat. Once cooked, turn off heat, cover, and keep warm.

Make the crepes: Measure the milk into a glass measuring cup, then add the oil and ground flax; mix well. 

In a medium bowl, sift together the flour, salt, and baking powder.  Add the milk mixture and stir well to combine. (It will seem very watery; this is as it should be). 

 Over medium heat in a small nonstick frypan, pour about 1/3-1/2 cup (I used a soup ladle), just enough to cover the bottom of the pan (roll the pan around a bit if necessary for the batter to cover it evenly).  Cook until lots of bubbles appear on the surface, 4-5 minutes, then flip and quickly cook the other side only until dry.  Remove to a plate to keep warm. You should end up with 4 or 5 crepes.

Once all the crepes are made, divide the filling into four equal parts, and place a strip of filling across the middle of each crepe.  Using the sides of the crepe on each side of the strip of filling, fold toward the centre and overlap to cover the filling.  Turn over seam side down onto a platter or oven-safe plate.  Pour warm gravy over top and serve.  Makes 4 servings. 

*In reality, this actually happened to the HH and I had to go pick him up, but I switched our identities in the anecdote because I didn’t want to embarrass him by telling the real story on this blog. 

WOCA Recap:  Now that the (first) week of WOCA is over, I want to thank you all for your comments and encouragement.  I can say that the week was not too bad (if by “not too bad” you mean “ripping-your-hair-out-frenzied-housecleaning-ricocheting-off-the-walls-like-a-whirling-dirvish-growling-at-your-dogs-like-a-pitt bull-staffie-cross-cravings-that-almost-felled-you-like-a-200-year-old-oak” not too bad.  But I can now say I’ve gone (more than) a week eating only foods that are good for my body.  I’m thinking of continuing, in fact, since I fear that even one bite of chocolate will send me into an instant replay of my previous bingeing.  Rather than bore you all with my chocolate pangs, I’ll just try to soldier on and will mention only pertinent chocolate-related events or recipes, as they come up.

For a simple weekend brunch, no matter what the main course, I always crave a side of home fries.  The humble potato is truly transformed into something exceptional when fried up alongside slivered onion and whatever else you may please, from the most rudimentary (salt and pepper) to something more hip and funky (green pepper, tomato and avocado).  While I’m basically a purist when it comes to home fries, I do like them flavorful. 

Over the weekend, we cooked up a batch of my favorite version of home fries.  The process is incredibly easy.  I had just started thinking about it, so asked myself three essential questions: 

1) Feel like potatoes?  Yep.

2) Feel like spice? But of course.

3) Have both in the house, and about 20 minutes to spare? Jackpot!  Okay, then–let’s party!

I came up with this combination (likely not entirely original, I’ll venture) because we always have steak spice in the house for the HH’s carnivorous forays. I love spicy food, and the aroma of that particular combination of spices and seeds really sets my nose tingling.  Well, I decided, if I won’t put the spice on steak, why not try it out on one of my favorites–home fries?  The result worked amazingly well.  Never mind the steak–just give me a plate of these, please, and I’m happy.

I’ll often do up a cheater’s version of this dish if I’m strapped for time.  Like Johanna and her roasted carrots with dukkah, or Heidi and her friend’s skillet smashed potatoes, I’ll partially cook the potatoes before adding to the frypan, as I’ve found that, unless you overdo it and cook them completely, the dish isn’t really diminished by this move.  If you begin with parboiled potatoes, you’re looking at no more than 15 minutes before you can dig into some browned, caramelized, crunchy-on-the-outside-creamy-on-the-inside potato contentment.

In fact, I love this recipe so much that I considered submitting it to “The Potato–A Blog Event” hosted by Eating Leeds, but I’ve decided I’ll just give the event a nod in this post, as I’ve got another potato-y prize in store for the event (which I’ll post later in the month).  In the meantime, enjoy this super-easy way to cook up America’s favorite vegetable.

(“Mum, those do look great, but you know we’ll have to pass because we can’t have that onion.  Sometimes you can be so heartless. . . “).

Montreal or Chicago Spiced Home Fries

This is a quick and easy way to provide a great side dish to a brunch or any protein main course.  Feel free to adjust the spice to your own preferences.

4 large Russet or Yukon Gold potatoes, cut into 2″ (about 4.5 cm) chunks (leave the skin on)

2 medium onions (or more–they do shrink down!), sliced thinly in half-moons

2-4 Tbsp. (30-60 ml.) extra virgin olive oil

about 1 Tbsp. (15 ml.) Montreal steak spice, or Chicago-style steak spice*

Bring a large pot of water to the boil.  Add potatoes and allow to boil for about 7 minutes, until just fork-tender.  (Don’t overboil, or these will turn to mush in the frypan!)  Alternately, if you’re okay with a microwave, you can nuke these until just soft. 

Meanwhile, in a large skillet, heat the oil over medium heat and add the onion.  Cover the pan and allow to cook for 5-10 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the onion is soft and just turning golden. 

Add the potato chunks to the pan, stir well to coat with the onion/oil mixture, and sprinkle with the steak spice.  Continue to fry for about 5 minutes at a time before stirring, until the potato chunks are browned and have accumulated some nice crispy bits on them, another 10 minutes or so.  Remove to a serving dish and dig in.  Makes 4-6 servings.  

*we used Botanica brand, from Costco–it’s a mix of salt, dehydrated garlic and onion, plus herbs and spices; they mention only turmeric and paprika, but there are definitely others in there, such as peppercorns and perhaps some caraway.  For the ingredient list of President’s Choice Montreal steak spice (probably better), check here.

Love never ceases to amaze me. 

In the halcyon days of our relationship, when my HH and I were still in early stages of romantic life, I was sideswiped with a doozy of a diagnosis that caused me to change my diet drastically for what turned out to be quite a long time.  

Still fiercely besotted back then, my HH was perfectly willing to accommodate my strange and singular dietary restrictions: no sugar, no wheat, no eggs, no dairy, no anything fermented (which included my half of those bottles of wine we’d grown accustomed to consuming with dinner), no caffeine, and on and on—for about three more paragraphs.  

As a couple who habitually dined out 2 or 3 times a week plus brunch on Sundays (one advantage of meeting when we were too old for kids is the increased discretionary spending), this new diet forced us to alter our regular routine, um, considerably.  All this, and my HH was still happy to comply, and even join me as I consumed cooked amaranth and tahini, tamari-marinated tofu, kamut pasta sprinkled with nutritional yeast, kale and arame salad, and every other manner of organic, whole, vegan foodstuff.  

Yes, for a time, life was good in the DDD household.  

After a couple of years of this regime, however, the cracks began to appear.  I detected quiet rumblings of protest, as when I’d serve up my favorite tofu-veggie stir fry in almond-curry sauce:  “What?” my HH would say.  “This, again?” He’d eat it, but he wasn’t happy.   

Soon, he imposed a veto on seaweed (unless, of course, it was wrapped around a hunk of raw eel or salmon at his favorite sushi bar). “It’s actually kinda slimy and gross when it’s marinated like that,” he’d remark of my kale and seaweed salad. Next, he tired of tofu. “That tofu stir-fry was okay at first,” he admitted, “But I think I’m maxed out on tofu for a while.” Before I knew it, he was once again craving caffeine.  Up came the coffee maker from the basement, where it had been relegated for over a year, amid the piles of as-yet unpacked boxes from our previous house-move.  

Almost imperceptibly, more changes took place.  Stealthy, small cartons of half-and-half cream began to make their way back into our fridge. At first, they lay low at the back, behind the cartons of soymilk; later on, they declared their presence boldly, at the very forefront of the shelves. Eventually, there came the final affront: last year, the HH rekindled his mania for meat. No more pasta with veggies and walnuts for dinner, no sir; from now on, he wanted steak.  

Well, what’s a vegan-loving gal to do when her HH suddenly reverts to his Neanderthal, bachelor appetites (for foods, that is)?  These days, most of the time our dinner table is graced with a dual repast: a vegan main course for me, which cheerfully serves double duty as a side for him, nestled next to his hunk of animal protein. I love the guy, and he cooks his own meat, so I can live with it. 

(“Steak ?  Did someone say ‘steak’? But Mum, we think you should be the one to cook it.  Dad never gives us as many leftovers as you do. . . oh.  Sorry to interrupt.”)

This past weekend, however, I decided to whip up a tofu omelette for myself for brunch. I also thought it would be the perfect contribution to Nandita’s  Weekend Breakfast Blogging event, this month hosted by  Rajitha at Hunger Pangs.  

I’d been reading about these omelettes ever since coming across Cozy Inside, Joni Marie Newman’s blog for her cookbook of the same name (which I promptly ordered after reading the recipe). I also found a great recipe for a tofu omelette on Fat Free Vegan Kitchen’s page,  which was subsequently extolled by  Don’t Get Mad, Get Vegan  . And Vegan Ronin served up her own version back in 2006.  

 I had tried both the Cozy Inside and Fat Free Vegan Kitchen omelettes and enjoyed them immensely. This morning, however, I was aiming for something a little richer and a little more gussied up, something I could serve to friends as the centerpiece of a brunch buffet.  So, using these three for inspiration, I played with the various elements of the recipes and devised my own concoction.    

An old recipe for a regular, egg-based omelette that had always intrigued me since I first read about it years ago is a sweet version, with an apple-cinnamon filling.  So that the flavors in the base wouldn’t clash with the sweetness of the filling, I decided to make the omelette itself as plain as possible, omitting any strong seasonings such as garlic, paprika, or chopped veggies.    

While cooking it up (and as you’ll see, the process is surprisingly easy), it still felt as if the dish needed something more than just apples to finish it off properly. I remembered a curried cream sauce I’d created to pour over broccoli raab, as a slightly sweet contrast to the bitterness of the greens.  I thought that would be the perfect accesory for this omelette, and stirred some up while the apples cooked.  The final product was a delicious and filling brunch. 

Once everything was completed and plated, I tentatively asked the HH if he’d be willing to taste it.  

Surprise number one:  “Sure,” he said. He took a big forkful. 

Surprise number two:  “This is delicious!” he proclaimed, and then: “Can I have half?”  Well, I’ve never been so happy to share. 

With great enthusiasm, he proceeded to eat it all, and practically lick the knife clean. Perhaps the tofu embargo has come to an end. 

Yep, love never ceases to amaze me. 

Tofu Omelette with Sauteed Apples and Sweet Curry Cream Sauce

For the Sauce:

1/2 cup (125 ml.) smooth cashew butter

1/4-1/2 tsp. (1-2.5 ml.) mild curry powder

pinch cinnamon

2 Tbsp. rice milk (this adds a bit of natural sweetness to the sauce)

For the Filling:

1 large apple (I used Gala),  cored and cut into half-moon slices

2 tsp. organic coconut butter or sunflower oil

dash of cinnamon

For the omelette:

1 pound (about 500 g.) firm or extra-firm block of tofu (not the kind packed in water)

1/4 cup (about 60 ml.) nutritional yeast

3/4 cup (about 185 ml.) plain, unflavored soymilk

3 Tbsp. (45 ml.) potato starch

1 tsp. (5 ml.) onion powder (not salt)

1 tsp. (5 ml.)  turmeric

2 Tbsp. (30 ml.) extra virgin olive oil

1 Tbsp. (15 ml.) almond butter or cashew butter

salt, to taste

Make the sauce:

Make the filling next:

Melt the coconut butter in a medium frypan over medium heat.  Saute the apple slices until soft and starting to caramelize, about 10 minutes.  While they are cooking, prepare the omelettes. 

Prepare the omelettes:

In a food processor, blend the tofu and soymilk until it reaches a fairly smooth consistency.  Add the remaining ingredients and process again until very smooth.  This should be a thick batter, the consitency of a muffin batter.  (If the mixture is too thin, the omelette won’t hold together.  If it’s too thin, add about 1 Tbsp. of spelt or other flour at a time, up to 4 Tbsp.,  until it reaches the correct consistency).

Heat a small non-stick frypan over medium heat.  Add about 1/4 of the omelette batter at a time, and smooth it evenly in the pan.  Allow to cook for about 5-8 minutes, until the colour changes (it will become more yellow as it cooks) and the top appears dry.  Flip the omelette (Joni provides a neat trick to do this effectively here) and cook the other side for another 4-6 minutes, until light golden.  Repeat with other 3 omelettes. 

Fill omelettes with apple slices, fold over the slices, then top with some Sweet Curry Sauce.  Serve and enjoy!  Makes 4 substantial omelettes.

Well, since I didn’t make it to the gym today to record my weight, my HH and I decided to go out to brunch instead.  (But of course!  If you can’t exercise, may as well eat.)  

We do this a lot, it seems.  For me, the allure is the meal itself; breakfast foods have always trumped lunch or dinner in my mind.  For my HH, it’s simply the act of going out to eat.  (Apparently, at one point in his twenties, he lived in an apartment for 2 years and never once turned on the stove.).    

Rather than bore you with the menu from today’s excursion, I thought I’d share a recipe for one of my favorite brunch foods, pancakes. So often, the ones you get in restaurants are heavy, wet, and shiny with griddle grease (how appetizing!).  The recipe that follows, however, really does live up to its name.  You’ll find these light, fluffy, and, as their eponymous title suggests, cake-like.   

To avoid overdoing the maple syrup when I eat these, I prefer to pour syrup on the side and daintily dip my pieces of pancake one at a time into it (rather than slathering it over the top of the stack, as in the photo, below).  This way, the pancakes don’t soak up too much of the syrup at one time (as they tend to do), and there’s no need to repeatedly re-pour when the pancakes start to appear dry on top. 

 Another way I like to eat these (perhaps while reading some Holidailies entries?) is topped with fruit-only jams–blackberry and mango are favorites–and forgo the syrup entirely.  

For the omnivores out there, feel free to use regular milk instead of soy or rice milk, and replace the flax seeds with 2 eggs.

[This recipe appears in my cookbook, Sweet Freedom, along with more than 100 others, most of which are not featured on this blog.  For more information, click here.]

Other Pancakes and Breakfast Foods on DDD:

Carob Buckwheat Pancakes with Almonds and Carob Chips (gluten free; ACD Stage 2 and beyond)

Baked Blueberry Oatmeal Breakfast Pudding (gluten-free; ACD Stage 2 and beyond)

Coconut Pancakes (gluten free; ACD stage 2 and beyond)

Zucchini Bread Oatmeal (gluten free; ACD stage 2 and beyond)