Diet, Dessert and Dogs

[Dig that romantic lighting in this photo!]

I have a new love, and it’s not the HH.

(“What?  Mum, you’re not getting a divorce, are you?  Because who’s going to walk us in the morning if Dad is gone??“).  Now, before I go and scare The Girls, I should specify that I’m not referring to a human object of my affection. I’m talking about a new food-related amore: celeri rémoulade.  (“Phew! Mum, you really shouldn’t scare us that way. We’re very sensitive, you know.”)

Let me backtrack a bit and explain.  Even though the HH and I do celebrate Valentine’s Day, for the past few years we’ve done so a day or two after the fact, in order to avoid the  too-crowded-too-expensive-too-mushy restaurant crowds who seem to roll out like fog off a San Francisco pier all on that one day. Last year (the first V-day to occur after I started writing this blog), I broke all previous records and assembled a multi-course, ultra-extravagant, über-romantic and oh-so-dirty dinner (no, no, no, that would have scared the dogs even more than a breakup! We’d never offend their delicate sensibilities that way. I meant “dirty” as in, “generating a lot of dirty dishes,” silly!).  I vowed that this year, we’d move to the other end of the spectrum, with a simple,  quick, yet equally delectable meal. (“Thanks, Mum.  That divorce scare was more than enough for one day.”)

I’d actually chosen the appetizer over a month ago, after reading about celeri rémoulade on Molly’s blog.  Her description was so alluring–rapturous, almost–citing the “clean, fragrant crunch of celery root, and the alchemy of mayonnaise and Dijon mustard. . . . somewhat rich [with a] flavor [that's] light, bright, even hungry-making, a perfect start to a meal,” that I knew I had to try it out. The only glitch, of course, is that traditionally, the dish contains copious amounts of both mayonnaise and yogurt (the vegan versions of which are a tad too processed for my liking). Never mind; I decided to deal with that later. 

For the main course, I considered a recipe for Tempeh Stroganoff I’d found in an old (October 2007!) issue of Vegetarian Times. 

[11:32 AM.  Ricki and the HH sit at the kitchen table, sipping tea and nibbling on muffins.  The Girls lie on the carpet in front of the fireplace, Chaser sprawled with her belly facing the fire, while Else lies curled in a ball.]

Ricki:  How about this tempeh stroganoff from Vegetarian Times?

HH:  No.

Ricki: But it sounds delicious! And it’s even gluten-fr–

HH: Uh-uh.  No.  Nada. No way.  Nein. [As if to remind Ricki of a forgotten promise]: No tofu.

Ricki: But it’s not tofu.  It’s tempeh. 

HH: Tempeh, tofu–same difference.  No soy products.

Ricki:  [pouting] Well, but, this is what I want for dinner!

HH: Okay, fine. I’ll make a steak and have the stroganoff as a side dish. 

Ricki: That’s why I love you, sweetheart.  Happy Valentine’s Day!  Kiss kiss squeeze squeeze hug hug. . .

Okay, I didn’t really say that.  But I did think it.  Here’s what I did say:

Ricki: Well, in that case, I think I’ll make it with these fabulous tempeh meatless balls that I read about on Happyveganface.

HH: Still not eating it.

Me:  That’s fine, HH.  But just because you’re cooking your own steak doesn’t mean you don’t have to help me make the stroganoff.

HH:  Okay. 

Ricki:  That’s why I love you, sweetheart.  Happy Valentine’s Day!  Kiss kiss squeeze squeeze hug hug. . .

We figured we could whip up the stroganoff in under an hour (bake the meatballs while I made the sauce; julienne the celery root while the stroganoff simmered), having time to leisurely prepare the meal ensemble while listening to some Rodrigo, exchange good-natured banter, toss cashews to The Girls and sip our favorite bargain basement champagne, sort of like we used to do in the early days of our relationship. We’d have the early part of the day to relax in our jammies, peruse the newspaper, play with The Girls, check favorite blogs, and so on.  Perfect!

After a chillaxing day (browsing the paper, taking The Girls for a trail-walk, visiting the workout club–how ya doin’, burly guy with the black knee socks?  Nice to see you again, septuagenarian couple with the matching T-shirts!  Nice day, isn’t it, bleached blonde with the flirty giggle!), we finally turned to dinner. 

Perhaps I should have planned this “easy peasy” meal just a tad more carefully.  (Of course, by the time I got round to cooking, I was semi sloshed on Segura Viudas, which may have contributed to my somewhat inefficient kitchen artistry–but still).  

First, I discovered that the cashews (the main ingredient in the homemade sour cream) required an hour’s soaking, which set our prep time back by an hour.  No problem: I’d whir together some homemade vegan mayonnaise (I used the recipe in Cozy Inside, but this one sounds just as good) and whip up the meatballs while the nuts soaked. Then, I’d quickly prep the sour cream and throw together the stroganoff while the HH grilled his steak.  We’d be done and ready to dig in by 7:00 PM at the latest.

[7:00 PM. Having forgotten about the initial chopping and sautéing involved, Ricki is still mixing ingredients for the meatballs.  Sounds of rumbling tummies can be heard in the background.]

HH:  So, um, what’s our ETA for dinner?

Ricki: Well, I’ll just pop these meatballs in the oven–I couldn’t bear to fry them–and then make the mayo and sour cream, and then I can whip up the stroganoff, and then the celeri rémoulade, oh, and then I guess we should think about dessert–

HH:  I thought this was going to be a quick and easy dinner.

Ricki [pouting]:  Well, now, I suppose it HAS been easy for YOU, hasn’t it, Mr. Lazypants?  I mean, I’VE done all the work so far, I’m standing here covered in onion juice and flour and cashew crumbs, and YOU’VE been sittng there all day reading the paper and playing with the dogs, sipping your champagne, now, haven’t you??  Well, I wouldn’t be complaining right about now if I were you, mister, you’d better watch yourself, or else—

HH:  Um, well, I’m actually happy to help.  Just tell me what to chop.  Oh, and here’s your Valentine’s Day present [brandishing chocolate].

Me:  Oh, that’s why I love you, sweetheart!  Happy Valentine’s Day! Kiss kiss squeeze squeeze hug hug. . .

Ultimately, we didn’t sit down at the table until well after 8:00 PM (have you ever julienned a celery root by hand??? Insanity, I tell you–sheer insanity).  But the results were well worth it.  The celeri rémoulade was, as Molly promised, fresh, crisp, light, and entirely irresistible.  I really did fall in love, and ate two servings before even thinking about my stroganoff.

The main course, too, offered a winning combination of succulent, filling meatless balls atop a plate of velvety, herbaceous sauce. It practically hummed its smooth melody of rich, sour cream and savory, toothsome mushrooms.

It may have been more complex than anticipated, and it may have taken six times as long as anticipated, and it may have been cobbled together from seven different recipes intended for seven other purposes. . . but this meal was remarkable all the same. 

After all, who ever said the road to true love was an easy one?

In case you’d like to reproduce the meal yourself (if you happen to have three and a half hours to spare some weekend), here’s how I assembled it.

And since celery root is available in Ontario in February, this post is my submission to Maninas’s event, Eating with the Seasons, for February. 

Vegan Celeri Rémoulade

adapted from Orangette

Light and almost ethereal, this salad will enchant with its thin, crisp matchsticks of celeriac  and creamy, fragrant dressing.

1 small to medium celery root

6 Tbsp (75 ml) mayonnaise of your choice

2 Tbsp (30 ml) this “sour cream” (save the rest for the stroganoff sauce)

1 Tbsp plus 1/2 tsp (17.5 ml) dijon mustard

salt, to taste

lemon juice, to taste

To prepare the celery root, peel away all the outer gnarly skin until you have a smooth, white root ball.  Cut the root in half and place cut side down on a cutting board.

Slice the halves into thin slices.  Stack the slices and cut again into thin matchsticks.  If you have a mandolin and it will handle celery root, by all means use that instead (and avoid a 40-minute operation if done by hand–though of course you won’t revel in the same satisfaction as you will from doing it by hand. But then again, who cares?). Place the matchsticks in a large bowl.

In a small bowl, prepare the dressing:  whisk together the remaining ingredients.  Pour over the celery root and toss to coat.  Allow to sit about 10 minutes for flavors to meld before devouring.  Makes 4-6 servings.  Will keep, tightly covered, in the refrigerator for 3 days.

Meatball Stroganoff (GF option)

based on a recipe in Vegetarian Times, October 2007

[More romantic lighting!  Okay, actually, it was just evening and fairly dark when I took the pic.]

While I enjoyed the disparate elements of this dish immensely, I think next time I’d pair the meatballs with a tomato-based sauce, as Jes does in her original recipe.  The stroganoff sauce would be fine on its own, too.

1 recipe tempeh (or other) meatballs (I used this one–ues GF meatballs for GF option)

4 ounces (115 g) button or other mushrooms (I used portabello)

2 Tbsp (30 ml) tamari or soy sauce (use GF for GF option)

1/4 cup (40 g) brown rice flour

1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) dried mustard powder

1/8 tsp (.5 ml) ground nutmeg

1/4 cup (60 ml) Madeira, vermouth, or apple juice (I used vermouth)

3 cups (720 ml) vegetable broth (or use 2 tsp/10 ml bouillon powder and water) (use GF for GF option)

1Tbsp (15 ml) olive oil

1 medium yellow onion, thinly sliced

1 cup (240 ml) chopped kale, collards, or Swiss chard1/4 cup (45 g) potato starch

1 cup (240 ml) sour cream (I used this one)

about 8 ounces (225 g) rice pasta, or pasta of your choice

paprika, for garnish, if desired

In a small bowl, toss the mushrooms with the tamari and set aside.  Meanwhile, combine the starch, flour, mustard and nutmeg in a large bowl. Slowly whisk in the madeira until smooth; then whisk in the broth until well blended.  Set aside.

In a frypan, heat the oil over medium heat and then sauté the onion until translucent. Add the mushrooms with the tamari and continue to sauté another 2-3 minutes.  Add the kale and cook for another minute, until it begins to wilt.

Pour the liquid mixture over the vegetables in the frypan, and stir over medium-low heat until it begins to bubble and thicken.  Add the sour cream and stir to blend well (if sauce is too thick, add more water or some soymilk).  Keep warm while you prepare the pasta.

To serve, place pasta on a plate and top with several warm meatballs.  Spoon sauce over all, and garnish with paprika if desired.  Serve immediately.  Makes 4-6 servings.

 Last Year at this Time: Juicy Cuisine and Crunchy Granola

© 2009 Diet, Dessert and Dogs

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.