Diet, Dessert and Dogs

As someone who follows an anti-candida, sugar-free, gluten-free, vegan diet, I’ve encountered my share of skepticism.  Every time I tell someone about my dietary restrictions, I’m hit with either incredulity (“But what’s left to eat?“), pity (“Oh, you poor thing! You must miss real food!”) or derision (“hmm, yeah, bet you just love eating that cardboard, eh?”).  But skepticism is probably the worst of the lot (“Well, there is actually no such thing as candida syndrome, so it’s probably just in your head. What you need is to go out and eat a big piece of real chocolate cake with eggs and gluten and sugar, and drink a big glass of wine.”).

Luckily, the HH never responded like so many others and has always been very tolerant of my erratic swings in diet (and mood, but that’s a totally different reason why I love him). In fact, whenever he encounters someone who voices skepticism about the value of a whole-foods, refined sugar-free diet, he tells the story of his brush with high blood pressure, back during my year at nutrition school.

You see, the HH is the kind of person who has never had a weight problem; he could eat whatever he wanted without any apparent consequences.  (Once, in his twenties, he consumed three full dinners in the space of one evening:  first, he ate a regular dinner at home with his parents; then he visited his best friend, whose mother offered him dinner.  Being the well-raised boy he was, of course he couldn’t refuse. After enjoying roast beef, green beans, and potatoes with gravy, the guys met up with a third pal, a chef who invited them back to his apartment for a late dinner.  Well, you don’t very well say “no” to dinner from a chef, do you? So yet another repast of pasta with smoked salmon and vodka, peas and crème brulée was had as well.). The HH is  also fearless about trying any food of animal origin, no matter how weird (seriously–body parts, internal organs, what-have-you); but ask him to sample sea veggies, or daikon, or fiddleheads, and he cowers in the corner.

Anyway, about halfway through my stint at nutrition school, I arranged for us to undergo full physical exams with our family doctor. (I was curious to see whether my über-healthy NAG diet had affected my myriad physical problems). In typically male fashion, the HH hadn’t been to the doctor since before he’d met me.

Well, wouldn’t you know it, after weighing and prodding for a few minutes, with typical beside manner, the doctor pronounced, “HH,* you are definitely overweight, and you also  have high blood pressure.” At 6’1″ or 185.4 cm, he weighed just over 200 lbs/90.72 kg, with a BP of 151/90. (My blood tests, on the other hand, all came back great, with blood pressure an ideal 110/70.  And my irritable bowel (IBS) symptoms had entirely disappeared; in fact, that appointment marked the first step in weaning off my medication, which I’d taken for 16 years by then. Wa-hoo!).

Needless to say, Ms. Doctor wanted to prescribe high blood pressure medication–stat.  She told the HH that he was lucky to catch it so quickly, and since he was at the lower end of the “high blood pressure” spectrum, he wouldn’t need a really strong dosage.  She pulled out her little prescription pad and began to scribble when the HH interjected.

“Well, you know,” he offered, “Ric is doing this holistic nutrition program right now. . . how would it be if I get her to design a special diet for me that could lower my blood pressure?”

At this, the doctor chortled and let out a little snort. Let me just say: I really like our family doctor.  She’s young, she’s empathic, she listens to all my hypochondriacal tales of woe, and she knows her stuff.  But her response at that moment was nothing short of cliché:

“Well, your diet won’t really have any effect on it, though I guess you could cut out red meat and alcohol.  But if you are determined to go ahead, we can give it a month or so, since your levels aren’t all that serious yet. Why don’t you come back in six weeks, and we can start you on the meds then.”

I’m sure you can guess what happened.  For the first (and only) time, I had full control over what the HH ate!  FULL CONTROL!! Muahahahaha!  I immediately vetoed all animal products, alcohol, and coffee.  (This was back in the early days of our relationship, when the HH was still starry-eyed and infatuated enough with me to actually listen to what I suggested).  No more wine with dinner. No more cheeseburgers with heaps of mayonnaise.  No more triple lattes with full cream.  No more shortening-heavy Tim Horton’s Carrot-Walnut muffins first thing in the morning at the office every day.

Ah, yes, it was an idyllic time for me: we nibbled on tofu scramble, vegan quiche, or sweet potato pancakes with homefries for brunch on the weekends, gazing lovingly at each other as we sipped our green tea.  For lunch, the HH took packaged beet and quinoa salad, leftover Bangkok noodles, or sandwiches made with whole grain flour and tempeh bacon.  We discussed our workdays over our favorite almond-curry stir-fry for dinner.  The HH brought home-baked  muffins to the office each morning, and the rest of the day, he consumed more green than Dorothy ever saw in Emerald City. He drank herbal tea with me in the evenings, scooped up berry sorbet for dessert, and even quaffed the occasional green smoothie.  (Okay, I made up that last one.  He’s always hated green smoothies).

 After 6 weeks, he dutifully returned to the doctor’s office.  The verdict? He had (effortlessly) lost 25 pounds (11.4 kg) and his blood pressure had returned to normal! (The doctor’s response: “Well, it’s great that things are better, but I’m sure it had nothing to do with your diet.”)**

These days, the HH isn’t quite so devoted to a vegan diet any more (it took a couple of years, but he slowly re-introduced meat, cream, coffee, wine–well, basically, everything I’d cut out). Still, he has managed to maintain a healthy weight and blood pressure.  The one food he didn’t reject, however, was a homemade muffin each morning.  In fact, when I first began the ACD a couple of years ago, I didn’t bake at all for the first few months, and the HH sorely missed his morning muffin.

When I read that Johanna was hosting this month’s Breakfast Club event with Savory Breakfasts as the theme, I decided to bake up something a little different for the HH’s morning coffee break.  These muffins are moist and dense, with pockets of oven-dried tomato, dotted with green onion slices and flecks of fresh herbs scattered throughout. The flavor is robust without being too grain-heavy in flavor. They’re perfect warmed up with a bit of coconut butter or even a dollop of tahini.  In fact, you don’t have to save these for breakfast–they’d be great alongside a savory stew or chili as well.

The HH reported that he really enjoyed the muffins for breakfast.  In fact, when he first sampled them straight out of the oven, I turned my back for just a moment to find that two had already been eaten before I could snap a couple of photos for the blog.  “Ah, just bake more,” was his reply. “These are good.”  Of course I was happy to oblige, knowing that my homemade muffins are far superior to anything he might purchase on the way to work.  Maybe one day, I’ll get him to start taking lunches of tofu scramble and quinoa salad back to the office again, too. 

“Mum, those muffins look great!  You know that we need to eat healthy whole grains too, right?  But why did you have to add those darned onions, when we’re not allowed to eat them?”

*She didn’t actually call him, “HH,” of course.  But you probably guessed as much. 

**There is a coda to the story as well: a few months after the HH’s second appointment, I was wrapping up paperwork for a cooking class in my home and noticed a familiar name on the list.  It was my doctor’s!  She ended up taking two classes from me, and these days, is happy to suggest dietary changes for her patients, alongside classic medications.

And don’t forget: You have until the end of the month to submit a carob-based recipe for this month’s SOS Kitchen Challenge! We’ll be giving out two prizes in honor of our one-year anniversary of the event–submit a recipe and you’re automatically entered!

I’m also posting this recipe in Sugar-Free Sundays from Flip Cookbook, in Amy’s Slightly Indulgent Tuesdays and Cybele’s Allergy-Friendly Fridays.

Last Year at this Time: SOS Kitchen Challenge: Spinach Roundup!

Two Years Ago: Old Habits Die Hard: Mocha Cereal Cinnamon Muffins (not ACD friendly; not GF)

Three Years Ago: When Cheesecake is Love (not ACD friendly; not GF)

© Diet, Dessert and Dogs

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.

Last Year at this Time: Pear and Parsnip Soup

© 2009 Diet, Dessert and Dogs