[Sometimes, you just want a dish that's "no fuss." I've decided to offer a mini-post every once in a while, for a dish that comes together incredibly quickly or else is so simple to make that no recipe is required. Here's today's "Flash in the Pan." (For other FitP recipes, see "Categories" at right).]
[THE GIVEAWAY IS NOW CLOSED. THANKS TO EVERYONE WHO ENTERED!]
If you take a gander through this blog’s archives, you will notice that there are certain ingredients–while fairly common in North America and even beloved by many–that don’t often appear in my recipes. For instance, you won’t find much pomegranate, buttercup (aka kabocha) squash, persimmon or fresh fennel (though that last one is about to change since I recently discovered that I now I like it).
Mostly, the paucity of recipes is caused by my reluctance to use those foods mixed in with other ingredients. I love them so much that I want to experience their uniqueness without distraction or interference, sort of the way the HH listens to classical music (he is one of those rare individuals who actually sits still and listens to music. . . while doing nothing else at the same time).
For me, pineapple falls into this “I want you all to myself” category as well. Consequently, I was particularly excited to reach the second stage of the ACD because it meant re-introducing a few fruits–apples, pears, berries–plus pineapple, one of just two so-called “sweet” fruits (along with papaya) that are permitted because they contain digestive enzymes (bromelain in pineapple and papain in papaya). This means they don’t encourage a lot of fermentation, which can lead to more yeast.
As soon as I was “allowed,” I bought the largest, most fragrant green and gold pineapple I could find, toted it home, then trimmed and sliced it. I sat down at the table as if I were about to listen to my own classical concert, then slowly savored each and every chunk, happily slurping the sweet, tart pieces as the juices trailed down my chin and over my fingers. (The Girls were also pleased to share the fruuit’s core, with plenty of their own slurping going on as well). Pure, clean, and absolutely gratifying.
Then, last week while chatting about favorite juice combos on the DDD Facebook page, a reader mentioned pineapple as an ingredient she often used. I got to thinking that I really needed to expand my culinary horizons a little and take the leap to allow eating pineapple in some other way than merely on the tip of my fork.
What I came up with was a smoothie (okay, maybe not as great a leap as, say, eloping, or gender reassignment, or quitting my job to become a circus acrobat, but a leap nonetheless). The result was this heavenly breakfast concoction that combines all my favorite ingredients from a classic carrot cake.
While I kept this recipe fairly light on greens, on a typical morning I normally include double or more of what I mention here. But if you’re new to greens in smoothies, you might like to start with the lower end of the leafy spectrum.
The smoothie made a refreshing and satisfying breakfast, and is also a great way to use up leftover cooked carrots. And, of course, it’s a way for me to expand the number of recipes containing pineapple on the blog.
DDD In Your Kitchen this Month:
Wow, you folks have been cooking up a storm! I love when readers make my recipes and tell me about it. Here’s a list of the culinary creations you’ve made in the past few weeks based on DDD recipes.
If you’ve tried a recipe and I miss it here, please let me know about it in the comments and I’d be happy to add it next time.
As always, thanks to everyone for letting me know how you like the recipes! I love hearing from you.
And finally, A WEEKEND GIVEAWAY:
[THE GIVEAWAY IS NOW CLOSED. THANKS TO EVERYONE WHO ENTERED!]
While shopping at my favorite health food store today, I came across a sale on my favorite chocolate bars. My immediate thought was, “Yay–chocolate!” (because that’s what I always think every time I see chocolate), immediately followed by, ”Oh, wait, I can’t eat these particular bars” (as they contain evaporated cane juice). But before I could shed a tear, it occurred to me: that doesn’t mean that some of YOU can’t enjoy these bars! So I scooped up four of them, and want to send one each to four of you! *
You can win a Cocoa Camino large-sized (100 g or 3.5 oz) bar in one of the following new flavors: Dark with Coconut, Espresso (dark with coffee beans), Dark with Almonds, or Dark with Raspberries. All are vegan and gluten free. NOTE: THESE ARE NOT ACD-FRIENDLY CHOCOLATE (they contain sugar). [THE GIVEAWAY IS NOW CLOSED. THANKS TO EVERYONE WHO ENTERED!]
To enter, simply leave a comment here telling me which bar you’d like the most. On Sunday evening after midnight my time, I’ll choose four random winners. Please come back Monday to check if you’ve won! I’m sorry, but I cannot contact the winners. If I don’t hear from any of you by the following Friday, I’ll choose someone else.
* Disclaimer: I purchased the bars with my own money and will also cover mailing costs. Cocoa Camino did not ask me to provide this giveaway, nor did they ask me to say anything about their bars. I just happen to love them and want to share!
I know that pineapple isn’t a component of all carrot cake recipes, but the carrot cakes I liked the most were always those that included it. Similarly, you can omit the coconut if you’re not a fan. The walnuts add Omega-3s add more protein.
2-6 leaves mild-tasting lettuce (to your taste)
1 large carrot, steamed
1 Tbsp (15 ml) lemon juice
1/2 cup (120 ml) fresh or frozen pineapple chunks
1 Tbsp (15 ml) unsweetened shredded coconut
2 Tbsp (30 ml) raw walnut pieces
1/2-inch (1 cm) piece fresh ginger, peeled
7-10 drops plain or vanilla stevia liquid, to your taste
1 tsp (5 ml) cinnamon
1 scoop of your favorite plain or vanilla protein powder (I used SunWarrior vanilla)
1 cup (240 ml) unsweetened soy, almond, rice or hemp milk
Combine all ingredients in a high-speed blender and blend until perfectly smooth, scraping down sides a couple of times if necessary (for a cold smoothie, add 2-3 ice cubes). Pour into a large glass and garnish with a sprinkle more cinnamon, if desired. Makes 1 serving.
So: I’m going to make an effort to try to attempt to give it my best shot and strive to endeavor to maybe have a crack at liking winter a little more. I mean, I can’t complain about it right through until April, can I? (okay, don’t answer that). Well, with inspiration from Alicia’s “Happy Thoughts” at the conclusion of each of her blog posts, I decided earlier today to start the -23C (-10 F) day with three positives of my own. Three reasons to smile first thing in the moring? Well, that’s gotta melt away all that snow and ice anti-winter sentiment, right? And each one of these items, I daresay, is worth a cheer.
#1: Raw Raw for Our Winner!
I was delighted with the positive response to my most recent giveaway and am so glad that you all were as impressed with the company as I was. And as I mentioned in the review, the oils are great for use in raw dishes. Raw raw!
Who won the box of four types of Olivado oils? It was. . .
Number 87, reader Cathy! Cathy wrote:
“I am impressed that they are involved in Fair Trade. And Their recipes look great!”
Congrats, Cathy!! Please email me at dietdessertdogsATgmailDOT com asap with your mailing address so I can contact the company to send you your prize!
[Meghan (on the right) and me. Apologies for the blurry pic. . . darned pocket camera!]
It was great to meet Meghan and observe her über-enthusiastic and friendly demeanor in person. With my recent resolve to continue eating healthfully and introduce in a more “clean” diet over the next few months, I had already decided to consume more raw foods. And, as Meghan commented in her class, raw dishes are the perfect antidote to our natural inclinations during the chilly season, when we are more likely to overdo cooked and hot foods. I knew I’d find some great inspiration for new raw recipes at the class–and I did! (Oh, and we got to spend 2-1/2 hours with like-minded people in Meghan’s cool loft, too).
Here’s the raw “cous cous” salad, one of the many dishes that we scarfed downgobbled upinhaled enjoyed while there:
Raw Raw for Meghan’s cooking classes!
#3: Raw Raw for–Fennel!
[Raw fennel slaw with carrot, beets, ginger and black sesame seeds.]
It’s probably an understatement to say that my sisters and I “don’t like” fennel.
The CFO, for instance, was once out to dinner with some friends when she ordered a chicken and pasta dish. Here’s how the situation played out:
CFO: I’d like to order this chicken and asparagus dish, but I need to be sure it doesn’t contain fennel.
SERVER: No, Miss, absolutely not. No fennel.
CFO: Okay, then, I’ll have this.
The dish arrives. The CFO takes one bite and her face screws up like a beach ball being turned inside-out.
CFO: Ugh! Ptew! Bleh! This dish has fennel in it!!
FRIEND #1: No, it doesn’t. I’m eating the same thing. There’s no fennel in it.
CFO: I’m telling you, there is fennel in this dish.
FRIEND #2: Here, let me taste it. (slurp, chomp). Nope, no fennel.
CFO: It has fennel!
FRIEND #3: Let me try. (chew, chew, swallow). There’s no fennel in that, CFO! You must be imagining.
The others continue to eat their respective dinners, but the CFO won’t touch her pasta. The server walks by.
CFO: Excuse me, server, but could you tell me if there’s any fennel in this dish?
SERVER: No, that dish is made with asparagus and peas. No fennel.
CFO: Are you absolutely,one hundred percent sure? No fennel? No fennel AT ALL?
SERVER [looking a little less confident now]: Well, let me go ask the chef. [he trots off].
The server returns.
SERVER: I asked the sous-chef and he said there’s no fennel added to this dish. We use a pre-mixed spice mix, and we are sure there’s no fennel in that. Besides, we only inclue about 1/4 teaspoon of the spice mix in the entire pasta sauce, which serves 50 people. . . .
CFO: Would you mind checking if there’s fennel in the spice mix, please?
SERVER [rolls his eyes a little too obviously]: Well, Miss, that would require pulling down the original box of spice mix, which is in our pantry behind five other boxes of rice and other supplies. . .
CFO stares at him without saying anything.
SERVER: Fine. I will be right back. [trots off]
The server returns.
SERVER: Well, Miss, I am sorry to tell you that yes, there is fennel in that spice mix.
Vindication! Luckily, the CFO isn’t allergic to fennel (or the conversation would have ended much earlier–like, when she keeled over); she just hates it. Needless to say, she returned the pasta. With a nose like that, I don’t know why she never went into the perfume business.
While I might not be as sensitive to its presence in spices, I am also not exactly a fan of the licorice flavor of cooked or dried fennel (which is odd, since I used to love black licorice–though in that case, I suspect, it had more to do with the exhorbitant amounts of sugar in the candy). When I read about Alysa’s “Hated Veggie Challenge,” I knew immediately that for me, the reviled veg in question would have to be the dreaded fennel bulb.
I’ve often been told that the raw form offers up a milder, sweeter flavor and a lovely crunch that can convert even the staunchest fennel-phobe. And so, I went and bought myself some fennel and concocted a slaw.
I whipped up a creamy dressing that I thought would work with an anise-like flavor. I paired it with grated beet and carrot for some sweetness and familiarity. I sprinkled it with black sesame seeds for visual appeal. And then–I took a tentative forkful.
And I loved it! Whoo hoo! Yay! Yippee! The fennel famine has finally ended!
Perhaps my taste buds have matured since my 30s; perhaps they’ve merely dulled. Perhaps the beets along with the Asian-inspired creamy dressing concealed the major licorice flavor and I am just not recognizing it. For whatever reason, I found the slaw to be a very tasty, satisfying side dish that I would definitely make again. Creamy, sweet and a bit salty from the miso, the ingredients here seemed to work harmoniously for a winning collaboration of tastes and textures. Raw Raw for raw fennel!
Raw Asian Slaw with Fennel, Beet and Carrot (ACD Phase II and beyond)
This is a really quick and easy side dish or first course to pair with a warm winter meal. Or have it on its own with a hearty slice of bread slathered with almond butter for a light lunch.
For the Salad:
1 small fennel bulb, trimmed and shredded (or sliced into thin shreds)
1 large carrot, peeled and grated
1 medium beet, peeled and grated
about 1 inch (2.5 cm) piece of ginger, peeled and sliced into very thin matchsticks
For the Dressing:
1 Tbsp (15 ml) light miso
1 Tbsp (15 ml) tahini (sesame paste)
1 Tbsp (15 ml) toasted sesame oil
juice of 1/2 lemon (about 2 Tbsp/30 ml)
10-15 drops plain stevia liquid, to your taste
salt and pepper to taste
1-2 Tbsp (15-30 ml) water, as needed
1 heaping Tbsp (20 ml) black or white sesame seeds (raw or toasted)
In a medium bowl, toss together the fennel, carrot, beet and ginger. In a small bowl, whisk together the miso, tahini, sesame oil, lemon juice, stevia and salt and pepper until very smooth. Slowly whisk in the water until desired thickness is reached (it should be thick and creamy, but just thin enough to pour).
Pour the dressing over the vegetables and toss to coat, then sprinkle with sesame seeds. Serve. Makes 4 servings. Will keep up to 2 days, covered, in the refrigerator.
Variation: We liked this dressing so much that I used it again the next night in a Broccoli Slaw: I substituted a head of broccoli (including stems), chopped, in place of the original veggies and added about 1/3 cup (80 ml) lightly toated almonds. Fabulous!
[Millet-quinoa bread topped with a smear of Caesar dressing (Clean Food recipe), faux egg salad, a few baby spinach leaves and sliced tomato. Now, that's a sandwich!]
So, if you read my recent post on Cheese-Filled Olive and Onion Bread, you’ll know that I was quite insistent about the lack of bread in my life: never liked the white stuff, my mom made awful sandwiches, bread was like styrofoam, yadda yadda yadda.
But that was all before I happened upon a blog post on Raw Eggless Salad that triggered something deep within my bread-hating brain. And before I knew it, I had pulled out the food processor to mix it up, right then and there.
Could this spread have sparked the end of the sandwich snub here at DDD? The demise of the Dagwood drought? A halt to the Hoagie hostility? A farewell to Fluffernutter disfavor?
Why, yes! Yes indeedy. And so it may come as a bit of a shock, dear readers, to learn that the other day, I broke my own vow and spoke the name of Moses used this raw eggless salad in a sandwich! It was great on its own, but somehow I felt compelled to slather it on a slice of bread, then gobble it down in a matter of minutes, before compulsively sniffing around the kitchen for a second serving, like Monk following a hot lead.
I came across this recipe on Shannon’s blog, Tri 2 Cook (cutest blog name, or what?), and was so intrigued I made my first batch without the dill, a key ingredient, as we had none in the house. Still mouth-wateringly good! Shannon got the recipe from a guest post on Gena’s blog, written by Melody (and if you managed to follow all that, I think you deserve a big Eggless Salad sandwich of your own).
While not truly akin to egg salad, something about the finely ground cauliflower and sunflower seed medley does approximate the feeling of that old-time sandwich filling fairly well; it’s a slightly creamy, slightly spicy, comforting spread that works beautifully with the crispness of lettuce and the dense moistness of a hearty slice of bread.
Despite the long list of ingredients, this is really a snap to prepare, especially in a food processor. Because I prefer a slightly more homogenous filling, I processed a bit longer than advised in the original recipe (I leave the graininess of the texture up to you). I also adapted the ingredients to be ACD (Phase II) friendly, since that’s where I’m at at the moment, but please do go check out the original version if you’re okay with nutritional yeast–I bet it adds a real boost of eggy, cheesy flavor.
Who knows? Maybe I’ll be a sandwich gal from now on. Because if eating my words means I get to relish sandwiches like this one, I’m happy to be proven wrong.
“Mum, if eating egg salad sandwiches means being wrong, we don’t want to be right, either. So feel free to share.”
Totally unrelated note: I’ve received a few emails asking about the “Last Yeat at This Time” links at the bottom of my blog entries (and have noticed that lots of bloggers have begun to include similar links at the ends of their own posts), so I thought I’d address the point here. To answer your questions, yes, I create these links manually, by going through the archives and finding the posts that correspond to each date. I wish I could take credit for the idea, but Smitten Kitchen has been doing this for years (three years, actually!).
To those who celebrate, hope you have a very happy Easter holiday, and a great long weekend to all! (And please note, no eggs were harmed in the making of this sandwich filling!)
And finally: I’ll be doing a book demo at Qi Natural Foods in Toronto this Saturday between 11:30 and 2:30. If you’re in the GTA, please drop by to sample some goodies from Sweet Freedom, take a look at the book, and say “hi”! I’d love to see you there.
Despite the long list of ingredients, this is fairly quick to throw together because of the food processor. You can eat this right away, but the flavors and textures seem to mature and improve after a day in the fridge.
1/2 cup (120 ml) nutritional yeast*
1 tsp (5 ml) dried sage
1 Tbsp (15 ml) dried dill, or 1/4 cup (60 ml) chopped fresh
1 Tbsp (15 ml) dried parsley, or 1/4 cup (60 ml) chopped fresh
1/2 tsp (2. 5 ml) garlic powder
1/4 tsp (1 ml) turmeric
1/4 cup (60 ml) tahini
1/4 cup (60 ml) yellow mustard*
2 Tbsp (30 ml) Dijon mustard*
2 medium naturally fermented dill pickles (most kosher dills–the type that has to be refrigerated–are fine), minced
1/2 cup (70 g) raw sunflower seeds, soaked in room temperature water for 4-6 hours (if you soak them longer, leave them in the refrigerator until needed)
3 cups (720 ml) cauliflower florets (cleaned and trimmed)–about one large cauliflower
2 stalks celery, diced
2-3 carrots, peeled and grated (use 3 if you like more carrot)
3 green onions (white and light green parts), chopped
fine sea salt, to taste
pepper, to taste
About four hours before preparation (or the night before), soak the sunflower seeds, and drain them.
In the bottom of a large bowl, make the dressing by whisking together the nutritional yeast, sage, dill, parsley, garlic powder, turmeric, tahini, both mustards, pickles, chia seeds and water. Set aside.
In the bowl of a food processor, process the sunflower seeds and cauliflower to create a fine meal-like texture (it should look sort of like small grains of rice). Turn the mixture into the bowl with the dressing. Add the celery, carrot and green onions and stir well to combine everything. Season to taste with salt and pepper. May be used immediately, but is best after being chilled. Makes 4-6 servings. Store, covered in the refrigerator, up to 3 days.
* ACD-friendly version: omit the nutritional yeast and use 1 Tbsp (15 ml) miso or 2 Tbsp (30 ml) Bragg’s liquid aminos instead. For later phases of the diet, you are allowed the occasional use of mustard; if you’re not sure you should have it, omit it and use about 2 tsp (10 ml) dried mustard instead, along with about 1 Tbsp (15 ml) fresh lemon juice.
I had intended a lovely post today, in honor of the upcoming Thanksgiving long weekend to the south of us. But time constraints (read: massive, unwieldly pile of essays and assignments to mark) have prevented me from following through. So I’ll just have to wait till the next batch of holidays in December to post about some new, frost-and-snow inspired, treats.
Instead, I thought I’d pull together a few recipes from previous posts that are suitably festive for a holiday table, or the breakfast table the following day (I’ve also got a few detox recipes on the blog–I’ll let you seek those out yourselves, as required). Most of these are fairly quick to make as well, as long as you’ve got the ingredients on hand.
Hope everyone enjoys some togetherness with friends and family, great food, and a bit of time to relax and play.
See you after the holiday!
“Mum, will Elsie be able to play again after the holiday? I mean, it’s just so boring with her out of commission. . . ”
Years ago (oops, make that a decade), during the tumultuous year after my starter marriage dissolved, I lived with my friend Gemini I. As two single thirty-somethings interested in social events or activities that might bring us into contact with eligible men, we decided to try out some cooking classes (what were we thinking? We might as well have looked for guys in the pantyhose department at Macy’s. . . oh, wait a sec: apparently, in Australia, that’s exactly where you might meet some guys these days).
In any case, we signed up for one series run by a well-heeled Toronto chatelaine who’d attended Le Cordon Bleu (it was only a weekend seminar, but she never told us that) and decided to teach classes out of her home. It took just one evening, and I was hooked; after that, Gemini I and I attended about half a dozen more classes as well. It’s not that I actually learned very much; and the food, while fine, wasn’t the most spectacular I’d had, either. But oh, what a house!
Oh my, how I envied her house. Situated beside a thickly forested ravine on a cul-de-sac in the tony Rosedale area, Ms. Culinati’s residence was a massive, ivy-covered, stone-and-brick Tudor style mansion of at least 5,000 square feet, almost more like a museum than a home. At over 100 years old, the building’s interior had been completely renovated and rendered ultra-modern inside. The setup was perfect for cooking classes: after passing beneath the towering entryway, we participants filed across the open-concept first floor (tiled in marble), toward a state-of-the-art kitchen just off the entrance. There were six cushy stools lined up against one side of a wide, grey and black granite peninsula, which also divided the room and separated us from the cooking area.
Ms. Cordon Bleu held forth on the opposite side of the counter behind the built-in stainless steel stovetop, prepping ingredients and chattering about the best shop in Paris to buy Le Creuset, the plumpest, most perfect berries at All the Best on Summerhill (even back then, I recall that a pint–about 500 ml.–of strawberries cost over $4.00 at that store), or how she flew to New York last weekend to pick up the very best fleur de sel(because really, you simply couldn’t use anything less).
Despite the fact that our personal orbits existed in completely different universes, I still enjoyed the recipes, the skillfully selected wines that accompanied them, and the stolen glances around the rest of the house as I ostensibly attended to our cooking. And, of course, it was always rewarding to have an evening out with Gemini I.
Most of the dishes I encountered in those classes, I will never make again, either because they contain ingredients I no longer eat, or because they contain ingredients far too extravagant for everyday consumption (last I heard, her courses had morphed into all-out travel tours, wherein participants flew to Tuscany for a week to cook and live together in a villa. Who are these people, and how can I be written into the will? Just asking).
Still, almost despite herself, in one class Ms. C.B. provided us with this recipe for Curried Root Vegetable Chowder with Dumplings. And while the original soup contained chicken broth, butter and wheat flour, it was a cinch to convert.
I’ve loved this chowder since the first time I slurped it back in the 1990s. It’s one of the easiest soups you’ll ever make (and while the dumplings are marvelous and do elevate the broth an echelon, you can just as easily forego the sophistication, toss in some elbow pasta, and happily spoon this up for a quick weekday dinner). Once the veggies are chopped, it’s a matter of a quick sauté, a splash of prepared broth, and a sprinkling of ONE spice: mild curry powder. It also makes use of an underused, but very tasty, root veggie: celery root.
It sounds almost too simple, I know; but believe me, the result will astonish you. The varying levels of sweetness from the different roots, along with the whisper of curry, combine for a soothing, warming and entirely captivating dish. This is one soup you’ll want to stay at home for. In fact, it’s the perfect soup to charm those eligible guys–that is, once you find them.
This month’s No Croutons Required is asking for soups or salads with pasta. I’m hoping these dumplings count. The event was started by Lisa and Holler and is this month being hosted by Holler.
Curried Root Vegetable Chowder with Dumplings
(adapted from a very old recipe from The Art of Food Cooking School)
This is the perfect soup to serve to guests; the dumplings elevate this to a fancier level, yet the soup is down to earth and very appealing. For a gluten-free option, omit the dumplings or use your favorite dumpling recipe with GF flour.
2 Tbsp. (30 ml.) extra virgin olive oil
1 small onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
1-1/2 tsp. (7.5 ml.) mild curry powder
4 cups vegetable broth
2 medium carrots, peeled, halved and cut into 1/2-inch (1 cm) pieces
2 large parsnips, peeled, thick end halved lengthwise, and cut into 1/2 inch (1 cm.) pieces
1 small celery root (celeriac), trimmed, peeled and cut into 1/4 inch (1/2 cm) cubes
1 medium sweet potato (yam), peeled and cut into 1/2 inch (1 cm.) cubes
1 tsp. (5 ml.) sea salt, if broth is unsalted
freshly chopped cilantro, for garnish
Dumplings:
1 cup (140 g.) spelt flour
1-1/2 tsp. (7.5 ml.) baking powder
1/2 tsp. (2.5 ml.) sea salt
1/2 tsp. (2.5 ml.) nutmeg
2 Tbsp. (30 ml.) cold coconut oil
1/4 cup (60 ml.) currants
5-6 Tbsp. (75-90 ml.) unsweetened soymilk or almond milk
To make the soup, heat the oil in a large pot or dutch oven over medium heat. Add the onion and cook for 3 mintues. Add the garlic and curry powder and cook for another minute or so.
Stir in the broth, carrots and parsnips. Bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer. Cover and simmer for 10 minutes. Stir in the celery root and sweet potato and cook for 10 more minutes.
Meanwhile, make the dumplings: In a medium bowl, sift the flour, baking powder, salt and nutmeg. Rub in the coconut oil (pinch the mixture between your thumb and fingers repeatedly) until the mixutre resembles a coarse meal. Add currants and toss to coat. Add milk and stir with a fork until the mixture comes together.
Season the broth with salt and pepper to taste. Then roll bits of the dumpling dough (about a tablespoon for each) into balls and place on top of the simmering broth. Cover and cook without disturbing for 15 minutes. Remove the cover and divide the soup into 4 bowls [I've found it makes much more than this]. Garnish with cilantro and serve. 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.
