On my hectic workday mornings, I love thee all stirred up and blended in a smoothie.
I love thee when I crave something snacky, all coated in a cheezy sauce. And, I have no doubt, I shall but love thee even better after dehydrating.
Yes, there are infinte ways to enjoy kale, and I never tire of the frilly, flirty, leafy green chameleon. Kale is the Meryl Streep of green leafy vegetables; you can dress it up in an endless number of guises, it easily takes on the accent of any country on the globe, it’s comfortable exhibiting countless incarnations–but underneath it all, it’s still essentially the same, every time.
Kale brings to mind my friend Babe’s mother, who used to pad from bedroom to bedroom each night as she tucked in each of her four children. After pulling up the covers and smoothing her child’s hair, she’d lean over and whisper, “I love you the most.” That’s how I feel about kale. No matter what the meal, no matter how it’s prepared, that’s the one I love the most.
And now, there’s a new favorite kale in town! As a subscriber to the McDougall newsletter, I came across this salad recipe tucked inobtrusively behind the savory lentil spread, spicy garbanzo pinwheels, and balsamic strawberry dressing this month. What appears at first a mild-mannered, simple and uncomplicated dish belies the underlying complexity and subtle layering of flavors in this recipe. And once again, the dressing is the true star of the salad. It’s so good that The HH and I ate an entire head of kale this way!
I’m thrilled to have another raw kale salad to recommend. It’s so quick and easy, it’s crazy simple. A perfect way to add fresh greens to your meal–or make it the meal itself, as we did.
Just like a great poem, this one’s destined to become a classic.
After polishing off the entire bowl, it occurred to me that the kale would have been spectacular if spread on a teflex sheet and popped in a dehydrator (or cookie sheet and low-temperature oven) to make my own kale chips. I’m saving that for next time (but let me know if you try it!).
For the salad:
1 head of curly green kale, washed, dried and stems removed
For the dressing:
1/2 cup (120 ml) raw or regular natural smooth almond butter
1/2 cup (120 ml) water
2 Tbsp (30 ml) freshly squeezed lime juice (about one lime)
1-2 cloves garlic, minced, to your taste
about 1/2 inch (1.5 cm) piece ginger, peeled and minced
5 drops plain liquid stevia
1/4 tsp (1.5 ml) red pepper flakes
2 Tbsp (30 ml) sesame seeds, raw or lightly toasted
Finely chop the kale and place in a large bowl.
In a smaller bowl, whisk together the remaining ingredients except for sesame seeds. Pour the mixture over the kale and toss well to coat. Sprinkle with sesame seeds and serve. Makes 4-6 side servings or 2 main course servings.
After many gruelling trials (So many brownies! So much chocolate! All that taste-testing! Ah, the sacrifices I make in the name of food blogging), I’ve finally developed a recipe for fudgy, dense and delectable brownies that are grain-free, gluten-free, nut-free, dairy-free, egg-free, vegan, stevia-sweetened and ACD-friendly. Decadence never tasted so sweet!
For the recipe, a review of the NuNaturals stevia I used, and a giveaway, click here!
Update, April 28: The winners have been announced! Check this post.
[Sometimes, you just want to eat something now. 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 easy to make that no recipe is required. Here's today's "Flash in the Pan." (For other FitP recipes, see "Categories" at right).]
[Ooohh-wee! Just look at those little cacao nibs peeking out!]
First: thanks, everyone for the great anniversary wishes on my last post! (The HH thanks you, too, in his inimitable fashion). Because we won’t actually celebrate until this Saturday evening, I’ll be posting photos of our meal in the subsequent blog post after that. Stay tuned!
In the past week or so, I’ve received a few emails asking how my ACD is going, and I realized it’s been a while since I posted an update. So, here goes:
For the most part, everything is pretty much status quo (with the ACD, that is. But The EL-LENd Me a Hand campaign continues to grow–join the wave and possibly win a free cookbook!). Basically, I’m now following Phase II of the Whole Approach diet, which now adds the occasional fruit (apples and berries, primarily) and some gluten free flour products. These new additions have opened up the world of baking possibilities once again, which makes me happy (I take it where I can get it). I’ve now lost 46 pounds and holding , which also makes me happy, though I wish it were a bit more. I’m feeling about 95% better, with lots of energy and clear headedness–which makes me very happy. And I still cannot eat peanuts, pistachios, fungi, yeast, alcohol, or any sweeteners except yacon and stevia. Which decidely does not make me happy.
Not happy, especially, since one of my very favorite foods in life has always been peanut butter. I’ve been eating it since the early days of my childhood when The CFO and I would sneak downstairs at 6:30 AM on a Saturday morning to watch Bugs Bunny with a side of soda crackers (loaded with PB) to my days as an undergrad in my first apartment when almost every breakfast consisted of a bran muffin slathered with PB, to the halcyon days of my relationship with the HH when we’d regularly slurp up Moroccan Spiced Tomato Soup or munch on my all-time favorite Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip cookies or Chocolate Peanut Butter Fudgies with abandon (not to mention a few other things we used to do with abandon–no, no, you debauched minds, you! I meant drink wine with dinner).
Not so any more.
Luckily, the ACD permits other nuts like almonds, walnuts and brazil nuts, so I often substitute almond butter for the PB in recipes, with little if no loss of appeal. But there’s one place where almonds can’t easily stand in for peanuts in an ACD-friendly format: flavored peanut butters.
Ever since I first caught a whiff of peanut-butter laced names like ”Dark Chocolate Duo” or “White Chocolate Wonderful” or “Mighty Maple,” I’ve been dying to try them but could never find them here in Toronto. And then, I started the ACD, which meant no PB at all.
[Bounty courtesy of Hannah--and yes, that's her homemade vegan white chocolate on the end! Whoo hoo!]
And even when the amazing Hannah of Bittersweet sent me a faint-inducing care package with all manner of treats, including those aforementioned PBs (bet you thought I forgot, eh, Hannah?), I couldn’t even try them out! (Don’t worry, I’ve set them aside until the very last day on the “Best Before” stamp, hoping I’ll have a chance to dig in by then; and the white chocolate is waiting patiently in the freezer). Thanks again for the delectable chocolate and nut butter bounty, Hannah!
Well, that got me thinking. (What? Again??). I’ve been making my own nut butter for years; if you’ve never tried it, you will be amazed at how easy it is. Homemade nut butter is so much healthier than store bought–even the all-natural kind– because you control exactly how long the nuts are roasted, and there’s no need for additional oils (which are often added to store-bought brands). In addition, homemade tends to be fresher than pre-jarred types. Heck, I realized, I could make my own, ACD-friendly version!
And then it hit me: instead of attempting to create a poor imitation of peanut butter using almonds, why not concoct something completely different, unique unto itself? I decided to create a flavored spread with walnuts. Why walnuts? Well, I love the flavor of these little cerebrum-shaped nuts when they’re just lightly toasted; they’re wonderfully nutritious, with about 95% of your recommended daily intake of Omega 3 fatty acids in a 1/4 cup (60 ml) serving and a bevy of other amazing nutrients, fiber and protein. And since their fat content is slightly higher than that of almonds, walnut butter is easier to blend in a food processor and results in a richer flavor. Perfect!
[In lieu of syrup over pancakes--heavenly!]
I opted to mix my walnut butter with cacao nibs for a chocolate intensity, and sweeten with just a bit of stevia. The result was a textured spread, a bit thinner than regular almond butter, but so much more luscious. I absolutely adored it, and could barely contain myself from licking it off the spoon. The cacao conferred a hint of chocolate throughout, which was, surprisingly, not the least bit bitter even though the nut butter isn’t extremely sweet.
Because of its light texture, this is a perfect topping for breakfast breads and quickbreads like scones, biscuits or pancakes–but that won’t diminish its charm if spread on an otherwise unadorned rice cake. You’ll never crave peanut butter again!
Since this is a kind of “healthy makeover” recipe, I thought it would be great for Amy’s Slightly Indulgent Tuesdays. Head on over and check the roundup!
Walnut Cacao Butter (ACD Phase II and beyond–with ACD Phase I variations)
Spoon up some of this amazing spread when you want to feel special. I made a small batch because otherwise risked eating it all–but the recipe will double nicely. The variations are almost endless.
10-15 drops plain or vanilla flavored stevia, to your taste (I like NuNaturals Vanilla)
In the bowl of your food processor (or in a coffee grinder if your processor blades aren’t too sharp), process the cacao nibs briefly to break up into crumbs. Don’t overprocess, or you’ll have cacao flour; you want a bit of texture. Remove the nibs to a bowl.
In the same processor bowl, whir the walnuts and sea salt until the mixture becomes almost perfectly smooth (this should occur fairly quickly).** Stop the processor, add the stevia, and pulse a couple of times to blend. Add the cacao nibs back in and stir to combine, but don’t process again.
Turn the mixture into a clean jar. Makes about 1 cup (240 ml). Store, covered, in the refrigerator for up to one week (well, I’m actually guessing on that one, since it didn’t last that long in our house).
** If you use other nuts, you may need to process longer. Walnuts and pecans smooth out fairly quickly; almonds take a bit longer (since they have a lower natural fat content). Cashews, in my experience, take longest (up to 10 minutes, scraping down sides of processor occasionally); you might need to add 1-2 tsp coconut oil to help them along.
Carob Variation: (ACD Phase I and beyond): Instead of cacao nibs, use 1-2 Tbsp (15-30 ml) carob powder, added with the walnuts. This will make the spread slightly thicker, but no less delectable.
Coconut Variation (ACD Phase I and beyond): Add 1-2 Tbsp (15-30 ml) coconut oil or coconut butter (a la HEAB) along with the walnuts (will also firm it up a bit). Add 1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) coconut flavoring with the stevia, if desired; stir in 1-2 Tbsp (15-30 ml) unsweetened shredded coconut once the butter is completed. This will result in a very firm spread once refrigerated.
I was thrilled that the HH and I were invited to twoseders this year (sorry, Girls). But after being delighted at my friends’ generosity, I panicked when I realized that most Passover food, besides being meat and poultry-heavy, is also full of eggs and gluten (not to mention sugar and honey)! Immediately, I decided to bring something along that I could eat–and that everyone else could enjoy, too.
I was surprised at how many DDD recipes are Passover-friendly (no grain, no gluten, no leavening, no beans or legumes, and a few other restrictions). Here’s a little roundup for those of you who follow Passover traditions (and even those who don’t!) and are looking for something delicious and healthy to cook up.
“Mum, maybe we can’t come to the seder, but would you mind bringing home some leftovers? That kale saladis way more tasty than this kong.”
[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.
[Whew! That title is quite a mouthful. But not nearly as full as my mouth was, stuffed with these cookies, for the past day.]
Back in our 30s, my friend Babe and I had a little routine we’d enact any time we met someone new (say, at a party, or a work event). A few minutes after the “hi, I’m Ricki” and “Hi, I’m Babe”* chit-chat began to stale, Babe would pause, crook her elbow and touch her index finger to her chin, then ask the unsuspecting targetvictimsucker stranger while nodding toward me, ”Okay, guess how long we’ve known each other!”
Usually, the person would begin with a reasonable guess, something like, “Five years?” Babe would shake her head. “Ten?” Another negative response. Eventually, the individual would give up, and Babe would announce flamboyantly, “We’ve known each other twenty five years.” The newcomer would appear suitably impressed, at which point Babe continued, ”but we’ve only been friends for six months. There was that week in grade five, a month in grade seven, three days in grade eight. . . “ She just thought that was hilarious.
In fact, the joke came about because of our habit during our tween years of getting together only once or twice a month. Invariably, we’d go see a movie (two eleven year-olds travelling on their own on city buses was a nonevent in those days). Since the only worthwhile movie theater was across town at the Cote Des Neiges plaza, we always headed there. It was there we saw Cabaret(velkomen!), The Poseidon Adventure(the first one, with Leslie Nielsen as a serious captain), The Hot Rock(remember Robert Redford sucking on Rolaids?), American Graffiti(probably Suzanne Somers’s only non-speaking role) and The Way We Were(about eight times–Barbra Streisand was then, and still is, Babe’s all-time favorite entertainer).
When we weren’t at the movie theater, we’d be watching movies at home; each in our own home, that is. A spring ritual that endured well into our twenties was watching DeMille’s The Ten Commandmentson television, with running commentary. We both thought Charlton Heston was dreamy (this was before he kind of lost his sheen by becoming the President of the N.R.A). Each on our respective sofas, in front of our respective TVs, with our respective snack foods (mine: chocolate chip cookies; hers: Bar-B-Q chips), we’d sit by the phone and basically watch the movie together.
I’d call Babe near the beginning of the film, already teary-eyed as the infant Moses was saved from certain death: ”Oh, wait, here it comes–look! She found the basket floating on the Nile!” Then twenty minutes later, Babe would respond with a call, pronouncing: ”Nefertiri still loves him–look at that agony on her face!” We loved how Moses’ good nature won over Pharaoh Seti and how the evil son, Ramses II (played by Yul Brynner) was thwarted. And even after Moses was condemned for being a Jew and flung out of Egypt, The Pharaoh felt compelled–on his deathbed–to honor his adoptive son, rasping out the words, “I must break my own vow, and speak the name of. . . . Moses.”
At that, Babe and I both uttered the line simultaneously with Seti, gasping for air and dying with a flourish before breaking into irrepressible giggles.
For years, any time we changed our minds or were faced with an error in judgement, we’d employ Seti’s Formula: let’s say I’d promised to stop blabbering about my crush on Teddy Saskin and then slipped up. I’d be forced to admit, ”I must break my own vow, and speak the name of. . . Theodore!” Or if Babe and I shared some normally prohibited junk food after school, she’d have to admit, ”I will break my own vow, and speak the name of. . . Bar-B-Q Chips!” We used that formula for years, until we tired of the movie and eventually moved on to something else (probably Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, which remained my personal favorite for the next decade or so; say, who are those guys??).
The Ten Commandments was also my major introduction to the history of Passover (yes, one would assume that the Passover haggadah, which actually relates the history of Passover and is read every year at the seder table, would have been a more fitting introduction. But neither my sisters nor I understand Hebrew, so while my dad droned on read from the booklet, our attention would always wander, and we’d find ourselves stealing dill pickle slices from the serving dishes, or dipping our fingers into the wine glasses, or giggling disrespectfully at the silly cartoon illustrations in the hagaddah, which would invariably elicit a terse and angry admonishment from our dad).
Because Passover foods do not contain leavening agents, desserts can be a bit of a bust. In recent years, flour-free chocolate tortes have taken over many of the sweet menus, but they tend to rely heavily on eggs, clearly a no-no for moi. Ditto for coconut macaroons, one of my favorite childhood Passover-friendly desserts.
Although we don’t celebrate Passover in our house, the HH and I are invited to friends’ seders this year, and I wanted to bring something appropriate that I could also enjoy. Complying with the ”no flour” commandment was easy, as I’m already eating that way quite a lot on the ACD. I thought about how I could approximate a chewy, gooey, meringue-y texture that is common in macaroons. Then I remembered the coconut macaroon recipe in my cookbook, always a big hit when it was sold in stores, and decided to alter it to be both ACD-friendly AND Passover-friendly.
While this version is definitely less sweet than the ones I remember, it is no less appealing. With the intense chocolate crunch of the cocoa nibs scattered throughout, the crisp edges and chewy interior imbued with a whiff of caramel flavor, these little gems are delicious in their own right, Passover or not. Even the HH, an avowed coconut lover, was happy to eat three of these at one sitting.
As for me, I couldn’t stop eating them. I bet they’ll make a great little snack–even as I break my own vow this year, and watch The Ten Commandments on television.
*Of course, she didn’t really say, “Hi, I’m Babe.” But this is a re-enactment, silly!
1-2 Tbsp (15-30 ml) cacao nibs or chocolate chips**
Preheat oven to 350F. Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper, or spray with nonstick spray.
In the bowl of a food processor, process the almonds, coconut flour, flax seeds and salt until the mixture attains the texture of coarse cornmeal (there should be no pieces of almond larger than sesame seeds). Add the coconut and pulse once or twice to combine.
In a small, heavy bottomed pot over low heat, melt together the coconut oil and cashew butter just until smooth. Whisk in the yacon syrup until well combined, then add the vanilla and coconut extract. Pour the mixture over the dry ingredients in the processor and sprinkle with the cacao nibs, if using. Process until the mixture comes together in a sticky “dough” and the nibs have broken up a bit.
Using a small ice cream scoop or teaspoon, scoop out about 2 tsp (10 ml) of dough per cookie and place on cookie sheet. Wet your palm (or use a silicon spatula) and flatten the cookies until they are about 3/8″ (1 cm) thick.
Bake in preheated oven 10-13 minutes, rotating the sheet about halfway through, until cookies are deep golden and beginning to brown on the edges. They should still feel soft when pressed on top with your finger (but will be hot!). Allow to cool before removing from the sheet. Makes 12 smallish cookies. May be frozen.
*for ACD Phase I, use yacon [NOTE: According to this site, agave nectar has been certified "kosher for Passover" as of 2007. Similarly, some people don't consume sesame seeds (tahini) during the holiday. Depending on your own personal preference, you may wish to use another sweetener.]
Dogs really are creatures of habit, aren’t they? I mean, every morning at precisely 7:02 AM (about 1-1/2 minutes after the HH slams off his alarm), Chaser bounds into our bedroom and lays a wet sloppy one on the HH’s ear (translation: “Dad, it’s time to get up! Get up, Dad, we need to go for our walk! C’mon, Dad! Let’s go! Just hop outa bed and take us! C’mon, what are you waiting for? C’mon—” etc.).
Then, at precisesly 1:15 PM every afternoon, Elsie saunters over to my desk and plants herself at my side, glaring (and if you’ve ever seen a Border Collie stare, you know the power of “the eye.”). If I continue to focus on the computer screen and tap away at the keyboard, she will tentatively and ever-so-gently poke me on the thigh with her moist, cold nose (more startling in summer when I’m wearing shorts, to be sure). Translation: “Mum, I feel I must inform you that the hour has arrived for our afternoon walk. Seriously, Mum, it appals me that you could forget this important hour of the day. After all, do we not go for a stroll each and every day of the week at this time? And are we not reliant upon you to take us? Now, please, offer us the courtesy of rising up from your chair and coming downstairs so that we may embark–right now.”
Yep, like I said, creatures of habit. Later, at precisely 4:53 PM every day, both Girls heave themselves off their respective pillows to pad into the office and station themselves on either side of me as I work, staring intently in a silent summons like bookmarked lawn gnomes. Translation: “Mum, it’s almost dinner time. Where the &%$!@ is our food?” (Okay, perhaps they weren’t as profane as that. But it’s always fun to imagine dogs cursing, isn’t it?).
Given that I was born in the Year of the Dog myself, it makes sense that I, too, am a creature of habit. Or, at least, I used to be. Before I met the HH.
Like South Park’s stance with Canada, I tend to blame the HH for my current shortcomings. Long before we met, in my twenties (also known as the Decade of Firsts, in which I first went to university, first lived on my own, and first met not one, but two true loves), I was incredibly organized and even followed an hour-by-hour schedule every day, permitting me to live through an entire university career without ever missing a deadline. Subsequently, during the Decade of the Dinner Party, I still managed a schedule jam-packed with socializing, full-time work, sewing my own clothes (!), and regular trips to and from Montreal.
Enter my 40s and the HH: not only did I meet my true love, but my lasting love. It was around that time–when the HH and I first moved in together–that chaos erupted. Okay, not chaos, exactly, but certainly the reorganizing of closets. And–even while continuing to throw dinner parties–going to bed without washing all the dishes first (gasp!). And being open to unplanned activities. And (and here’s where I blame the HH) the eschewing rigid schedules.
Well, despite his disdain for pre-planning or scheduling, the HH is his own uniquely habitual creature. Unlike me, he eats the same breakfast every day* (I prefer to rotate through 25 or so different options). The HH takes the dogs to the same park every morning (I switch it up between the park, the baseball field, the Mill Pond, and trail). The HH can listen to the same symphony over and over, sometimes for hours (I rarely listen to the same CD twice in a row–unless it’s a new, incredibly talented singer that I adore, of course).
Which brings me to today’s recipe (finally!). As you may recall, the HH and I used to keep a weekly date every Tuesday, wherein I’d meet him for a sushi lunch. But since the anti-candida regime I follow doesn’t permit sushi (no white rice, no vinegar, no sugar, blah blah blah), I’ve had to forgo our midday shared meal. Do I miss that sushi? You bet! (Well, and yes, I do also miss meeting the HH for lunch every week. . . but really, we do see each other every evening for dinner, and when we walk the dogs, and when we watch 30 Rock, and when we have brunch on Sundays, and when we tidy the house together before friends come over, and when we run errands on Saturdays, and when we. . . geez, maybe we’re overdoing this togetherness thing a bit, anyway).
I decided I’d whip up my favorite at-home sushi for lunch on my own. Since the original version wasn’t exactly ACD-friendly, I adapted; instead of the orignal sundried tomatoes (which are taboo on the ACD), I made my own semi-dried oven baked tomatoes. (Who says I can’t be flexible? No rigid recipes for this doglike gal!). Well, it worked beautifully. The rolls are (mostly) raw, grain-free, and reminiscent of salmon (in my memory, anyway). All I can say is, “domo arigato!” And it sure did feel great to get back to that old sushi habit, even if I shared it with The Girls instead of the HH.
“We enjoyed it, too, Mum. Thanks for sharing. But, um, didn’t I hear you say something about salmon?”
* A bowl of Raisin Bran with milk, if you’d like to know.
Raw Nori Rolls with “Salmon” Filling and Spicy Ginger-Miso Paste
A great recipe for those avoiding grains or anyone seeking a delicious variation on sushi. If you’re not following an anti-candida regime, go ahead and make the original. The Miso paste can be enjoyed by anyone.
cut vegetables for filling: zucchini, cucumber, carrots, avocado, daikon, green onion, etc.
2 sheets nori (sushi wrappers)
Spicy Ginger-Miso Paste:
1 Tbsp (15 ml) white miso
1/8-1/4 tsp (.5-1 ml) cayenne pepper, depending on desired heat
1 tsp (5 ml) toasted sesame oil
2 tsp (10 ml) finely grated fresh ginger
1 tsp (5 ml) freshly squeezed lemon juice
For the nori rolls:
Prepare the “Salmon” filling: Soak almonds in room temperature water for 8-12 hours. If you soak them longer, refresh the water after 12 hours and store in refrigerator for up to one more day. Drain and rinse before using.
Meanwhile, prepare the tomatoes: preheat oven to 300F/150C (or, for a completely raw dish, heat to 115F/45C or use a dehydrator). Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper, or grease with extra virgin olive oil. Cut each tomato in half and place cut side up on the baking sheet. Bake in preheated oven 1-2 hours, checking every 20 minutes after the one-hour mark, until tomatoes exude most of their juice and begin to shrivel and brown slightly. (If using a dehydrator, dehydrate until shrivelled).
Place drained almonds, tomatoes, 2 tsp (10 ml) miso, 1 Tbsp (15 ml) lemon juice, Bragg’s and black pepper in the bowl of a food processor and process until almost smooth. Set aside.
Prepare the Paste: in a small bowl, mix together all ingredients with a spoon until well combined and smooth.
Assemble the rolls: Spread about half of the miso-ginger paste over the nori sheet, spreading to the edge on 3 sides, leaving about 1/2 inch (2.5 cm) empty on one edge. Top with about half the salmon spread. Place 3-4 rows of desired vegetables along the edge opposite the empty edge, like so:
Next, use a sushi mat or just your hands, roll tightly starting at the edge with the cut vegetables. When you reach the empty stripe at the end of the nori sheet, moisten it with a bit of water and then roll up, leaving the seam down (against the table). Cut into 5-8 pieces. Repeat with second nori sheet. Makes 2 servings.
Totally unrelated note: One of today’s Google searches leading to my blog read, “Die Dessert Dogs.” Is that a typo, or just a really ticked off blog reader?
One of the most common traits exhibited by Libras is, supposedly, “indecisiveness.” As a Libra myself, I don’t really mind that description. Well, maybe a little. But not really–it’s all in good humor, right? Then again, who likes to be called “indecisive”? Am I offended?! Yes. No. Definitely. . . . maybe.
Represented by the scales, Libras often vacillate between extremes. In my case, I tend to swing between wildly opposing behaviors: holiday sugar-binges eating chocolate fudge, chocolate cookies, chocolate cake, chocolate frosting, or just plain chocolate**, later balanced by the most ascetic of diets, the ACD, followed religiously for months, until homeostasis is achieved once again.
Similarly, I may one day vow to keep my desk immaculately clean, then allow the notes and bills and post-its to accumulate in irregular stacks like fallen autumn foliage on a forest floor; finally, in a fit of tidiness, I’ll organize the entire thing in one afternoon, filing each and every snippet of paper or invoice in its proper place, only so the cycle can begin again. Or I’ll work like a lunatic at some writing project (hmm, say, like a cookbook), tapping at the keyboard for 12-16 hours a day over the space of three months, then burn out, veg out and do absolutely no work for days while I sit comatose on the couch in my jammies and watch my soap opera.
Not surprisingly, this all-or-nothing mentality extends to my cooking as well. In order to perfect my soy-free vegan whipped cream recipe, for instance, I ended up making 50 batches in the space of a month, stopping only once I was satisfied with the result (and then didn’t touch the stuff again for six months).
Last week, my fixation turned to the Chiles en Nogada (stuffed peppers with walnut sauce) that I read about years ago in Laura Esquivel’s Like Water for Chocolate. Now, I’m no expert on Mexican cuisine (I suppose having drinks at Hernando’s Hideway in 1994 doesn’t count), I’ve never eaten poblano chiles, and I’ve certainly never tasted Chiles en Nogada.
But when I browsed through the half-price produce at our local supermarket (where I buy slightly downtrodden apples for The Girls), I spied a bag of 8 cubanelle chiles. They appeared to be entirely fresh, and firm as new spring leaves; nary a blemish except for a tiny patch of brown no larger than an aglet (an aglet?? True, it has nothing to do with chiles, but it is the correct size. And besides, how often does one get to use the word “aglet”?).
”I suppose I could use these in a simple roasted pepper pasta,” I mused. “But wait–remember how great they looked at Esperanza and Alex’s wedding? And how 27 trays of them disappeared in no time at all? And how they were so delicious, so imbued with the aura of true love and exquisite care, that they filled anyone who ingested them with a slow, spreading sensation of ecstasy that overtook every inch of their being?”
All right, then! Chiles en Nogada it is!
Once I began to readotherrecipes for thisdish, I discovered that (a) the chiles were actually poblanos, not cubanelles (but luckily, they can be used interchangeably); (b) they were stuffed with a picadillo, a mixture made of either pork or beef or both (neither of which I eat); (c) the filling featured fruits and dried candied peels (which, of course, I cannot eat); (d) the walnut sauce contains queso fresco, a soft, piquant cheese similar to goat cheese (which I don’t. . . etc.); and (e) a simple roasted pepper pasta was starting to sound really, really appealing.
Okay, this might take a little more work than intially anticipated. But I was a Libra with a mission!
Since I couldn’t undertake multiple trials as I did with the whipped cream (I had only one bag of 8 chiles, after all), I carefully considered my options and decided to go with tempeh in lieu of meat, orange zest in lieu of candied peel, and tofu sour cream in lieu of queso fresco. And you know what? The result was outrageously good.
In addition to a spectacular visual image, this dish offers a slightly smoky, soft and fleshy pepper encasing a thick and knobby filling, its sweet and savory notes in perfect harmony; there’s just the slightest hint of citrus underlying the spice. Slathered over top is a rich, extravagantly silky sauce, one that confers a zesty bite along with a whisper of cinnamon. Finally, a handful of intense, sparkling pomegranate seeds finishes the dish with an additional burst of both color and flavor.
I was entirely smitten and enjoyed stuffed peppers three times over the next three days. The HH , on the other hand, wasn’t quite as taken. ”It’s interesting, but just too weird for me,” he commented. ”Though I’m sure it would be delicious with meat.”
With its satin stole and garnet beads, Chiles en Nogada is perfectly dressed for a holiday celebration (in fact, it was originally created to celebrate Mexican Independence Day, with the red, white and green colors of the Mexican flag. . . though I have to admit my sauce was more mauve-tinged than white). It does take a bit of work, but is definitely worth it.
And now that I’ve exhausted my energies on this dish, I’ll shift to the opposite extreme and flake out on the couch for a few days. . . until the next culinary tornado hits.
“Mum, we think those peppers would be better with meat, too. But we’ll still take some of that satin walnut stole and garnet pomegranate beads, holidays or not.”
** though not this year, obviously.
Chiles en Nogado (Stuffed Peppers with Walnut Sauce)
I’ve never tasted the original, so I have no idea how far this version strays from the authentic flavor, but the winning combination of hot peppers, sweet-and-savory stuffing and silky, tangy sauce is both enchanting and unusual enough to render any occasion special.
For the Peppers:
6-8 large cubanelle or poblano peppers
1 Tbsp (15 ml) extra virgin olive oil
1 small onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 cup (240 ml) grated celery root or other firm root vegetable (parsnip or carrot would work nicely)
1-1/2 cups (360 ml) vegetable broth or stock, divided
2 Tbsp (30 ml) tomato paste
1 large apple, cored and chopped
2 Tbsp (30 ml) raisins (omit for ACD-friendly version)
zest of one organic orange
For the Sauce:
3/4 cup (180 ml) of your favorite nondairy sour cream (I used the recipe in Joni Marie Newman’s Cozy Inside)
1/2 cup ( g) raw walnuts (I kept the skins on, which accounts for the strange color of my sauce)
1/4 tsp (1 ml) cinnamon
1 drop liquid stevia (optional)
Prepare Peppers:
Preheat oven to 425F (220C). Line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Place peppers on the tray and bake until just soft, about 20 minutes. Remove from oven and allow to cool while you prepare the filling.
Prepare Filling:
Heat oil in a large frypan over medium heat. Add the onion, garlic, celery root, tempeh, chopped tomato, spices and Bragg’s. Cook until onions are translucent and tempeh begins to brown, about 10 minutes. Pour in 1 cup (240 ml) of the broth, cover, and lower heat to simmer. Cook until all the liquid is absorbed, stirring occasionally, about 15 minutes.
Meanwhile, in a small bowl, combine the tomato paste and remaining 1/2 cup (120 ml) vegetable broth until smooth. Add to the tempeh mixture along with the remaining ingredients for the filling; stir well, cover, and simmer for another 5-10 minutes until most of the liquid is absorbed and sauce is very thick. Set aside.
Prepare the Sauce: Combine all ingredients in a blender and blend until perfectly smooth.
To Assemble:
Using a sharp knife, slit the peppers lengthwise between the stem and tip, cutting only through the top skin and leaving the bottom intact (leave the stems on as well). Gently pull the pepper open and scoop out the seeds and membrane. Stuff each pepper with filling, dividing it evenly. (Traditional instructions say to lie the peppers cut-side down, but I forgot; I actually like them better with a little filling peeking out). At this point, you may reheat the peppers until the filling is heated through, or just eat them at room temperature.
Spoon the sauce evenly over the peppers, and sprinkle with pomegranate seeds. Dig in! Makes 3-4 dinner or 6-8 appetizer servings. Peppers and filling (without sauce) freeze well.
[I thought it would be fun to run a little series over here at DDD: I'll profile one one of my favorite foods, or a food that I've recently discovered and enjoyed, over several days. The series is presented on an occasional (and entirely arbitrary) basis, before I move on to the next lucky comestible. This is the second entry on apples.]
[Quick note: Don't forget about the Trail Mix Giveaway--running until Friday! ]
As I was finally catching up on some long overdue blog reading the other night (and please forgive me if I haven’t been leaving as many comments as I used to–I promise I’m still reading!), I came across Diann’s post mentioning her 4-year blogiversary (congrats, Diann!).
It suddenly struck me that I’ve missed my own 2-year anniversary (at the end of October). Could it be that I’m preoccupied with end-of-semester assignments and marking? Perhaps the excitement of Halloween clouded my memory (okay, not a great excuse–my memory is always clouded). Or is it my fretting over an upcoming TV appearance for my book** on November 17 (be sure to watch if you’re in the Toronto area!). Probably none of the above. It’s just that I was just spending too much time mulling over the appropriate sequence of courses for this current Lucky Comestible series. I mean, does one serve the salad before the soup, or soup before the salad?
Hmm. That’s a tough one. According to the Wellspring of All Things Informational, Wikipedia, soup follows the first course (which they call the entrée) ; after that, we have some fish or relevées (lighter courses), then a main dish, and then a salad, with dessert and cheese plate in pursuit. It’s common knowledge in these parts that Italian meals often serve a salad toward the end as a kind of digestive aid (which makes total sense, as the raw ingredients contain enzymes that do just that).
Well, now that I’ve discovered the joy that is Waldorf Salad, I wasn’t about to save this darling for the end of the meal!
Believe it or not, I had never tasted a true Waldorf Salad before making this one. (I know! Even with me being all worldly and everything). As a young adult, for me the name always evoked images of raucus witticisms and much imbibing at the Algonquin Round Table; impeccably-coiffed socialites in Chanel Suits, their French poodles (equally coiffed) trotting alongside on golden leashes; or Holly Golightly peeking in that store window before Breakfast (all of which occurred, of course, in the same city as the hotel in which the salad originated).
While I knew it contained apples, I wasn’t as clear on the other ingredients. I imagined it must have something exotic, such as mizuna or ugli fruit (okay, not really; in those days, I didn’t even know what ugli fruit was. I just liked the name). Or that it involved a multi-stage, every-pot-in-the-house sort of preparation.
In a recipe like this one–containing only 3 ingredients besides the mayo–that mayonnaise is pivotal. In fact, the full gastronomic experience of the salad–the entire salad “zeitgeist,” if you will–is determined by that mayo. Mayo Rules!
If you’re already familiar with a prepared mayo that you like and think would go well here, by all means, use it. I’ve rarely used jarred mayo in the past, preferring to make my own. And while the results have been perfectly fine for items such as mock tuna salad or even Celeri Remoulade, for this salad, I wanted something a little lighter, a little more delicate in flavor. And I found it–on Vegan Epicurean’s blog!
The mayo recipe she created is perfect. It’s airy, fluffy, not at all unctuous, yet rich and creamy, with just the right degree of tartness and sweetness to balance the oil. I made mine in a VitaMix, but it should work in a regular blender as well (see recipe for pointers).
The first time I made the salad, I foolishly halved the recipe, assuming the HH and I could never eat it all. (Silly me.) It was amazingly good. Crisp, juicy, sweet apple bits complemented by crisp, juicy, slightly bitter celery bits, punctuated by crisp, toasty walnut bits, all coated in bits of creamy, smooth, ethereal mayonnaise. And wouldn’t you know it–bit by delectable bit, I ate half the bowl. (As did the HH.)
Whether you serve this as a first course, following the soup, or as a post-prandial nibble, no matter. It’s a joy to eat any time.
“Mum, I’m sure we would find that salad a joy to eat, too! Oh, wait; for us, pretty much anything is a joy to eat. But can we still have the leftovers anyway?”
**If you don’t yet have a copy of Sweet Freedom, this is a great time to get one for yourself, or as a holiday gift for someone else! Receive personalized, signed copies of the book mailed to you (so you have plenty of time to wrap and go before the holidays) for just $25 including taxes, shipping and handling. Why not enjoy some delicious, healthy sweet treats this holiday season? Offer good until December 1st!
A wonderful first course for a meal, or as a side dish with a summer dinner. There’s a reason this salad is a classic–it’s still irresistible, even today.
1 large sweet, crisp and juicy apple (I used Honeycrisp), cut into bite-sized pieces (about 2 cups/480 ml)
1/2 cup (55 g) lightly toasted walnuts, broken into pieces
1/2 cup (120 ml) halved green grapes (optional)
1 cup (240 ml) great-tasting mayonnaise (I used this recipe, with the ACD variation, below)
Place the apples, celery, walnuts and grapes in a large bowl. Add the mayo and stir to coat well. Either eat immediately, or store, covered, in refrigerator until ready to serve. To serve, garnish with more chopped walnuts, if desired. Makes 4-6 servings.
1 cup plus 2 Tbsp (270 ml) sunflower or other light-tasting oil, preferably organic
1/4 tsp (1 ml) apple cider vinegar
2-4 drops stevia liquid (to your taste)
1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) fine sea salt
1-1/2 tsp (7.5 ml) fresh lemon juice
1 tsp (5 ml) finely grated lemon zest
1/4 tsp (1 ml) dry mustard powder
Blend all ingredients in a high speed blender until thick, scraping down sides as necessary. Transfer to a jar and refrigerate before using. (If using a conventional blender, blend all ingredients except oil. Then, with motor running, slowly pour the oil into the blender and allow the mixture to emulsify. Transfer to a jar and refrigerate before using). Makes about 2 cups (480 ml).
What? Another breakfast recipe–and so soon, you say? Well, you can never have too much breakfast is what I say. I mean, breakfast really is the best repast of the trio of meals, isn’t it?
To begin with, if it’s breakfast time, you’re probably rested. Your belly is primed and ready to accept food (after all, you have been fasting all night). You’re most likely clean (après morning shower), your face is still fresh and mascara-free, and you can feel good about giving your body “the most important meal of the day.” And besides all that–breakfast tastes better than just about any meal I can think of.
I’ve always favored breakfast, but I didn’t really develop my true allegiance to the morning meal until my late teens, when my friend Sterlin and I took our first vacation on our own–across the continent, to California. (Were our parents insane, letting two seventeen year-olds travel alone? Naw–no worries there–we were total nerds). Our first stop was LA, where we stayed with my dad’s aunt.
Let’s call her “Great Aunt Yetta.” (Actually, that was her real name, but let’s still call her that anyway). Even back then, more than 30 years ago, Ms. Yetta was already ancient, in her late 80s. Poor Yetta’s husband had died almost twenty years earlier, and she lived alone in their small bungalow near Beverly Boulevard in the city. The place looked as if nothing had been disturbed (or, by the looks of it, cleaned too often) since her husband’s death.
About four-foot-ten in heels, Yetta greeted us at the door with a heavily teased, upswept ‘do reminiscent of Endora in Bewitched (except Yetta’s hair was entirely white), its outer layer shellacked with Aqua Net. Despite her advanced years, she still took pride in her appearance, and in our honor had donned the full regalia: fuscia and lime green flowered cotton housedress belted at the waist in shiny white vinyl; gold and black sandals revealing painted crimson toenails, the toes themselves bent various unnatural directions. On her wrists and neck she wore four or five strings of multi-colored plastic beads, along with sparkly, dangly earrings; her face was slathered with full theater-worthy makeup, the purple eyeshadow thick enough to glaze pottery, a coat of carmine lipstick (which only partially followed the actual outline of her lips) on her mouth.
Yetta spoke in a sqeaky, slightly sing-song voice that brought to mind a Polish Edith Bunker. Had we been a little less starry-eyed from having just landed in California that day, Sterlin and I might have found Yetta somewhat creepy (that came later); instead, we assumed she was merely “eccentric.”
On our first morning in the city, we bounded out of bed at 5:30 AM (with the time change, this was already 9:30 our time) and emerged ravenous from our room.
“Come, dahlink, eat some breakfast,” Yetta said, grabbing me by the forearm. She led us to the dilapitaded dining room, where the table was laid with a few dishes, cups and a teapot. There was nothing recognizable as food, but as we drew closer, we could make out what was on the table. Without a word, Sterlin and I exchanged meaningful glances and began silently to plot our exit.
“No, you must eat some breakfast!” Yetta insisted. “Here, have some cheese.” She presented me with an amorphous blob of something half covered in soft, green fuzz. “Oh, don’t worry, it is still good,you just do like this–” She grabbed a butter knife and began hacking at the outside of the blob.
“Oh, no, really, thank you so much, but we aren’t hungry,” we piped up in unison.
“Okay, so some juice then,” she declared, handing over a jar of Tang that had clearly first entered her cupboard in the Sixties. I unscrewed the rusty lid and cautiously peered inside. The contents was so old that it had fossilized, one solid mass of crystalline orange rock.
Before I could say anything, Yetta grabbed the jar. “Oh, is okay,” she insisted, brandishing the same trusty butter knife, “You just make like this and you pour it out!” With that, she began to chip away at the ossified Tang.
“No, really, we never eat breakfast in the morning–OR drink anything before lunchtime!” we cried, backing out the door, “But thank you so much, anyway! See you later!” Luckily, we found a Farmer’s Market down the street, rife with fresh fruit, pancakes, waffles, and–a thrilling discovery at the time–frozen yogurt! (It didn’t exist yet in Canada in those days).
For the entire two weeks in LA, each morning we went through the ritual of thanking Yetta for her generosity, insisting that we never ate breakfast, and then running over to the market to gorge on every breakfast food (and several non-breakfast foods) we could find.
And so, my fascination with breakfast was established.
On our last evening in LA, we were asked to dinner at Great Uncle Norman’s house (Yetta’s brother), though Yetta was not invited. After the meal as we sat chatting about our visit, we actually began to feel a little sympathy for Yetta.
“Gee, it’s too bad about her husband,” Sterlin mused.
“What do you mean?” asked Great Uncle Norman.
“Well, you know. . . that he died,” Sterlin said.
Great Uncle Norman’s mouth dropped open. I think he may have even lost a few crumbs of his coffee cake. “Died?” he repeated. “Are you kidding me?! He didn’t die! He left her–he couldn’t stand to be in the same house as her for one more minute! He’s remarried and lives in Burbank.”
Maybe she’d fed him the green-cheese-and-Tang breakfast, too; who knows? In any case, my own interactions with breakfast have remained consistently pleasant since that time.
The HH and I enjoyed these sausage patties and biscuits with gravy for brunch last weekend. After celebrating my birthday in a very low-key fashion (stupid flu! stupid virus! stupid germs!), the HH and I decided to aim for a special brunch instead. (I did receive a truly beautiful, totally indulgent and indescribably warm and cozy cashmere scarf as a gift from the HH, however).
With leftover cooked rice in the fridge, as well as some nearly-dried sage left over from the roasted plum and spinach salad I’d made the week before, I developed a vague idea of wanting ”sausages” and so devised this recipe for super-simple and quick savory patties. I baked mine, but they can be pan-fried just as easily. The patties crisp up on the outside (even baked), retaining a moist yet firm interior. The coupling of walnuts and sage here mimics a meaty flavor exceedingly well, I think.
After reading Lindsay’s post a while back about Southern biscuits smothered in gravy, I knew I had to try this pairing out myself! Of course, my choices for both biscuits and gravy are currently limited, but I revised my coconut flour biscuit recipe as a savory round*, and topped it with a slightly altered version of Isa’s brilliant Smoked Almond Gravy (since I can’t eat smoked almonds–the ACD forbids pre-roasted nuts, as they tend to harbor molds–I simply roasted my own natural almonds, then added smoked paprika and some caramelized onions to the mix for an irresistible alternative).
This delicious, thick and chunky gravy, once ladled atop the savory biscuits, transported the dish from merely a ”Jennifer Aniston good” to a stellar, “Meryl Streep good.” They’re that good!
If you’re looking for a fairly quick and easy brunch that will encourage seconds, here it is. Add a green salad, and you’ve got a perfect meal.
The inclusion of Tang is optional.
Since this is a perfect brunch meal, I thought I’d submit this to Meeta’sMonthly Mingle event–this month highlighting brunch!
Easy “Sausage” Patties
These are great to use up leftover cooked rice. I used walnuts, but you could substitute other nuts if you prefer.
2 Tbsp (30 ml) extra virgin olive oil or coconut oil, preferably organic
1 large onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, chopped fine
1-1/4 cups ( g) lightly toasted walnuts
1-1/2 cups (360 ml) cooked brown rice (I used basmati)
1 Tbsp (15 ml) finely ground flax seeds
1/4 cup (60 ml) vegetable broth or water
2 Tbsp (30 ml) chopped fresh parsley
1/4 cup (60 ml) chopped fresh sage (about 10-12 leaves), or use 1 tsp (5 ml) dried sage
1/2 tsp (5 ml) smoked paprika
Preheat oven to 375F (190C). Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper, or spray with nonstick spray.
Heat the oil in a frypan over medium heat and add the onions and garlic. Sauté until the onions are golden, about 10 minutes.
Meanwhile, combine the remaining ingredients in the bowl of a food processor and process until well mixed and almost smooth. Add the cooked onion/garlic mixture and process until combined. The mixture should be moist and sticky, but firm enough to hold a shape.
Using a large ice cream scoop or your hands (be sure to remove the processor blade first!), scoop about 1/3 cup (80 ml) of the mixture at a time and place on the cookie sheet. Flatten the patties to about 1/2 inch (1.25 cm) thick. If desired, spray or brush with a little olive oil (this will help the patties to brown up on the outside). Bake in preheated oven for 35-45 minutes, until crisp and dry on the outside. Patties may also be pan-fried for 5-7 minutes per side. Makes 8 patties. May be frozen.
Thick, smoky, chunky, and creamy–this is everything gravy should be!
1 large onion, chopped
2 large cloves garlic, chopped
1 Tbsp (15 ml) coconut oil or extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
1 cup natural raw almonds, baked at 350F (180C) until toasted, 10-15 minutes, and then cooled
1-1/4 cups (300 ml) water
2 Tbsp (30 ml) soy sauce, Tamari, or Bragg’s
3/4-1 tsp (3.5–5 ml) smoked paprika, as you like
2-4 Tbsp (30-60 ml) brown rice flour (depending on how thick you want it)
fine sea salt, to taste
In a large frypan, heat the oil over medium heat. Add the onion and garlic and sauté until the onion is soft and golden brown, about 10 minutes.
Meanwhile, process the almonds in a food processor until they are the texture of a fine meal (like a coarse cornmeal). Add the cooked onion and garlic and process to blend well. Add remaining ingredients and process until smooth.
Transfer the mixture to a medium pot and cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until the gravy bubbles and thickens. Serve immediately. Store in a covered jar in the refrigerator for up to 3 days. Makes 4-6 servings.
* For savoryCoconut Flour Biscuits: omit stevia and vanilla; use bean flour instead of buckwheat flour; and add 1 Tbsp (15 ml) each of dried tarragon, oregano, and basil.
Last Year at this Time: Date Pasta (and another Sterlin-related story)
