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“Here it is, Halloween again, and once again, Mum has us decked in these silly costumes. . . seriously, Mum, Lady Gaga?? I mean, how many more years will I have to put up with such indignities? A bad romance, indeed. . . . “
“What do you mean, Elsie? I LOVED my costume this year! I was thrilled with it! I adored it! I could have a costume like this one every year! It was fantastic! It was stupendous! It was incredibly delicious!—slurp, slurp—
Um, what? What do you mean, I wasn’t supposed to EAT the dress? Ooops. . . ”
HAPPY HALLOWEEN, everyone! 
Last Year at this Time: Dog Day: Tricks for Treats [Elsie is so angelic]
Two Years Ago: Dog Day: Happy Halloween [with captions!]
© 2010 Diet, Dessert and Dogs
For all the moms out there. . .
Whether a Mom by birth,
[My mother on her wedding day, aged 22]
a Mom by choice,
[Elsie, you're a pretty good pillow."]
or a Mom you hold close in your heart,
[My Mom at my wedding, aged 59, three years before she died.]
Wishing you all day filled with happiness and time with loved ones, whoever they are, and wherever they may be. 
“Mum, we wish you a happy day, too. And what do you mean, ‘Mom by choice’? Isn’t Elsie my real mother? But–but she’s always been there, since I was born! And I look just like her! And she lets me bug her without biting me back! And she–”
“Zip it, Chaser, Mum was talking about her and us. I hate to break it to you, but we’re adopted. Even though I do look sort of like Mum, especially around the ears.”
“I’m devastated. But, okay, whatever, let’s play!”
Last Year at this Time: Dog Day: Celebrate All Moms
Two Years Ago: Dog Day: Still a Happy Day
© 2010 Diet, Dessert and Dogs
[Today is the last day to enter two cookbook giveaways! Enter to win 500 Vegan Recipes right here on DDD--check this post. And if you'd like a free copy of my cookbook, Sweet Freedom, hop over to Sally's blog and enter before midnight tonight!]
I’ll be back with a new recipe over the weekend, but in the meantime, I thought I’d post some festive Easter-friendly recipes for those of you who celebrate (it’s only fair, since I posted Passover-friendly ones last week). The HH and I, on the other hand, will most likely partake of some Asian-themed fare this weekend. 
Here are some holiday-appropriate dishes you might like to try. And if you’re following the ACD, don’t forget you can find 16 delicious gluten-free, allergen-free, ACD-friendly recipes in the Anti-Candida Feast ebook (with desserts all stevia-sweetened!) for just $5.00 USD.
A very Happy Easter to all who celebrate!
“Mum, another holiday, so soon? Wow, you human types really know how to party.”
 Appetizers/Spreads/Hors D’Oeuvres
Eggplant “Caviar”
Herb and “Feta” Polenta Appetizers
Quinoa, Sweet Potato and Black Bean Bites
Muhammara (Red Pepper-Walnut Dip)
Soups/Salads/Vegetables/Side Dishes
Cauliflower, Parsnip and Bean Mash
Celeri Remoulade
Classic Waldorf Salad
Cream of Olive Soup
Curried Root Vegetable Chowder with Dumplings
Gold and Green Warm Salad
Greens with Hearts of Palm and Pine Nuts
Sweet Potato and Ginger Salad
Main Courses
Kale and Potato Lasagna
Meatball Stroganoff
Nutroast Extraordinaire (an old standby)
Portobello “Steaks”
Tagine of Quinoa with Chickpeas, Olives and Prunes
Desserts/Sweets
Butterscotch Mousse Pie
Chocolate Pecan Pie
Grown-Up Baked Apples with Figs and Walnuts
Hazelnut Melting Moments
Matcha Chocolate Truffles
Mrs. K’s Date Cake
Sour Cream and Raisin Tart (or Pie)
[Sorry this is a long post. . . feel free to chop it up into manageable segments, like a honkin' big Florida grapefruit.]
Does this look like a deadly weapon?
Can it really be a week since the HH and I took off for parts unknown in Florida? I guess time really does fly when you’re having fun. Still, it’s great to be back–I’ve missed all of you (well, I did manage one peek at the blog while staying at my cousin’s house in the latter part of the trip–thanks for all the well-wishes!). Hope you all had a great week, too (“Mum, we had a great time staying with our friends at Eternal Optimist’s house, too, but time didn’t fly for us. EO is nice, but she doesn’t dole out quite as many treats as you do.”)
And here I am, back just in time for our first pelting snowstorm (about 10 cm or 4 inches, the largest snowfall so far this year). Nope, Toronto when it snows does not a welcoming city make. While I reorient myself to the city and the cold, I thought I’d give you a few highlights from last week’s holiday, in two parts. Part One: We’ll Always Have Miami.
Toronto, Day 1: Ricki and the HH Attempt to Board the Airplane.
Location: Toronto International Airport.
Ricki and the HH are screened by US customs before they board the plane. The HH, bearing no carry on luggage, saunters through the metal detector and waits on the other side for Ricki.
The Security Guard carefully unzips Ricki’s tightly packed carry-on bag and meticulously paws each and every vial, bottle, jar, bag, container, case, or pouch. He comes upon Ricki’s toothpaste and brandishes it aloft.
Security Guard: What is this, please?
Ricki: Holistic toothpaste. I don’t eat aspartame, which is in regular toothpaste.
Does THIS look like a deadly weapon?
Guard: Hmmm. [He turns the tube this way and that, gazing at it like a jeweler examining the facets of the Koh-i-Noor.] Toothpaste. [He sets the tube of toothpaste aside. He turns to Ricki's purse and begins another piece-by-piece examination.]
Guard [holding Ricki's keychain]: What is this, please?
Ricki: A keychain. [beginning to feel a little nervous, angry at self that she forgot to remove it from the purse]. It’s supposed to protect me in case I get mugged.
See? It even says, “DEFENDER” on the end, not “SECRET AGGRESSOR”!
Guard: Does it extend–? [trying to make the molded plastic bar extend.]
Ricki: No.
Guard: Just a moment, please [speaks furiously on his walkie-talkie].
The Security Manager, a young woman in her late twenties sporting a severe bun, grey fitted suit and practical flats, arrives.
Security Manager [holding the keychain]: May I see your passport, please? [Ricki hands it over.] Does this keychain extend?
Ricki: [beginning to despair]: No.
Manager: Does it contain a blade?
Ricki [panic is on its way]: No.
Manager: Please step aside, Ma’am.
Ricki [fearing she might miss her flight] Are you joking?
Manager: Well, this toothpaste exceeds the carry-on size limit. And we’ll need to check out this keychain more closely.
Ricki [barely holding it together]: You’re going to take my things away from me?! But– [face flushes red]. But that toothpaste costs $10 a tube!
The security manager speaks furiously on her walkie-talkie. Three uniformed police officers arrive. The Security Manager approaches them, Ricki’s keychain in hand.
Manager [to Police Officer #1]: What kind of weapon is this?
Police Officer #1: Well, I guess you could call it a simple club. [he smiles]
Ricki [to Police Officer #1]: Are you going to take it away from me?
PO #1: Well, you know, it could be a deadly weapon [he suppresses a giggle].
Ricki [a bit frantic now]: I’m actually more upset about my toothpaste. It’s $10 a tube!
PO #2: Well, you know, toothpaste might be considered a deadly weapon [he smiles and winks. Winks!]
PO #3: I tell you what. This isn’t, technically, a lethal weapon. So if you give it up voluntarily, you can get through the process much quicker.
Ricki: Well, if it isn’t technically a lethal weapon, what if I decide I don’t want to give it up voluntarily?
PO #3: We’ll take it away anyway.
In the end, the deadly toothpaste and keychain were, indeed, confiscated, though I was permitted to place them in storage until my return. I was then treated to a full body pat-down while the HH stood off to the side smirking and singing under his breath, “Ricki is a TERR-or-ist, Ricki is a TERR-or-ist, nyah nyah.”
To complete the Abbott and Costello air of the event, I realized the guard had retained my passport just as we approached the boarding gate; I asked an airline representative to go check for me. By the time she returned, I had found it in a fold of my purse–but she’d already arranged to have my luggage removed from the plane (since someone without a passport wouldn’t be allowed to transport her luggage, of course).
And so began our first real vacation in ten years. It could only improve from there.
Miami Beach, Day 3: Ricki and the HH meet her father’s new girlfriend.
After the initial shock of settling in South Beach (So much neon! So little green space! So many crowds! So much scalpel-enhanced cleavage!), the HH and I arranged to meet my dad and his new girlfriend for dinner. The Shore Club, where we stayed (courtesy of hotwire.com) was apparently one of the chic spots, renovated by a famous designer and proudly billed as a ”boutique hotel.” The entirely-white lobby, dotted as it was with blocks of sheer white curtains suspended from floor to ceiling at arbitrary locations, floor strewn with white mattress-sized pillows, pristine white couches and a variety of oil lamps, is described on the hotel’s website as “an eclectic mix evocative of global marketplaces.” To me, however, it seemed more evocative of ”latter day opium den.”
In fact, everything about the place (except for the room itself, which featured minimalist geometric furniture (also all white) and a floor and walls covered in–get this–concrete; that’s right: stark, cold, cement-hard concrete. No carpets, no throw rugs) seemed geared toward lethargy and dreamy relaxation. Note the actual bed in the courtyard (it’s right there beside the hammock):
Sadly, with temperatures at their coldest in the last decade, we never took advantage of the outdoor furniture or the hotel pool.
Our dinner took place at the Canyon Ranch Grill, a fortuitous find after I conducted a Google search for “Organic Restaurant Miami.” I couldn’t have been more thrilled with the menu options there–almost everything was organic, with loads of veggie dishes, prepared in a simple yet delectable manner. My own dinner consisted of a grilled vegetable salad (sans cheese or pistachios–they kindly subbed cashews instead); and three of the “Simple Eats”: Steamed Vegetable Basket, Sautéed Spinach and Garlic; and Baked Sweet Potato. Everything was superb–fresh, clean food with pure flavors, cooked to perfection.
And what about my dad’s girlfriend, you may wonder? A tyical Miami snowbird, a cross between Zsa Zsa Gabor and Phyllis Diller, Ms. Friend turned out to be a lovely woman (in fact, a lovely younger woman at 77 years old!), who was clearly besotted with my father. My dad, for his part, lapped up the attention–he’s quite a catch (according to him) at 88 as he still retains all his senses, all his hair, and his ability to play gin rummy–and dance.
Miami Beach, Day 4: Face Time for Ricki and the HH.
The following evening, the HH and I enjoyed an intimate dinner (just the two of us) at Wish, a place recommended by the concierge at our hotel. The dinner there was superb. The menu offers a vegetarian tasting option composed of any four choices from either the side dishes on the menu or the accompaniments to any of the other entrées (for instance, grilled zucchini that would normally be served alongside chicken). I began with the Wish salad, a tart, spicy, crunchy and juicy mix of bitter greens, gingered dressing and toasted cashews; followed by a platter with an Asian stir-fried vegetable salad of carrot, fennel and hijiki (I think) bathed in a chili-sesame vinaigrette; a warm, sweetly glistening butternut-edamame hash; a dainty fingerling potatoes in a red chimichurri sauce, rich and subtly spicy; and simple grilled yellow summer squash and zucchini. Yum!
Left to right, top to bottom: fingerling potatoes with chimichurri; stir-fried vegetable salad; butternut and edamame hash; and simple grilled summer squashes.
As to the ACD, I did my best to consume only “green-light” foods, but decided not to flagellate myself if I ended up eating a few non ACD-friendly items on the trip. This dietary decision led to two surprises: first, the enormous number of dishes I was able to find that easily complied with the diet’s restrictions (with the exception of a couple of salad dressings containing vinegar and the edamame-butternut hash, which I’m certain had a splash of maple syrup). The second surprise, given the volume of food I consumed, was that my weight still remains exactly where it was before the trip (whoo hoo!).
I think all Whole Foods stores should have palm trees beside them, don’t you?.
I was delighted to find a wealth of options at the local Whole Foods (they’re like McDonald’s that way, aren’t they? You can always count on them to be the same wherever you go), such as the tofu-rice salad (to the right in the display case below) which I ate along with roasted brussels sprouts for lunch our first full day in the city.
An abundance of vegan options, from green beans to tofu salad to roasted brussels sprouts. And at the back, there–could it be. . . SEITAN?
The HH and I even had a chance to stroll through the local Lincoln Mall, a series of streets closed to vehicular traffic, boasting a selection of upscale shops. Here’s the HH strolling along the pathway (coy, isn’t he?):
Note the shirt AND sweater required–and we were actually a little underdressed! Of course, it WAS the coldest winter in Miami in the last decade.
It was there I discovered a cute little café called Books and Books. Just take a look at the vegan section on their menu:
Mmmm–so many options! Should I have the Grilled Organic Tofu and Avocado Salad? Perhaps the Black & White Bean Salad? Or how about the Vegan Platter?
Of course, I determined right then that we had to have a meal at the place. We planned our final “goodbye to Miami” brunch there and showed up bright and early (10:30 AM) on the day of our departure. And then–Curses! The vegan menu applied only at lunchtime! They did offer to prepare a breakfast tofu scramble in lieu of eggs, but since I’d ingested soy three times by then, I felt I’d reached my tofu limit. We ended up back at Whole Foods, where I feasted on this:
Dolmades with 2 lentil salads (one with millet and one with quinoa). Gotta love Whole Foods!
Having consumed our final meal in Miami, we were ready to leave the carnival atmosphere and below-60F (15 C) temperatures. We packed up the rental car and bid my dad and the city adieu, heading out toward Highway 75 toward Sarasota, where we were scheduled to stay with my cousin Marketing Guru and his family.
Next Time: Fun in Sarasota. A recipe. And alligators!
Last Year at this Time: PS, I Love You: V-Day Dinner 2009
Two Years Ago: Pudding is a Virtue (raw carob-date pudding)
© 2010 Diet, Dessert and Dogs
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 read other recipes for this dish, 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 block tempeh (about 8 oz or 250 g), crumbled
1 medium tomato, chopped
1/4 tsp (1 ml) cumin
1/4 tsp (1 ml) cinnamon
pinch cloves
pinch nutmeg
1/4 tsp (1 ml) fine sea salt
2 Tbsp (30 ml) Bragg’s Liquid Aminos, tamari or soy sauce
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.
© 2009 Diet, Dessert and Dogs
Last Year at this Time: Gastronomic Gifts II: Brandied Apricot-Ginger Spread
Well, it’s Canadian Thanksgiving on Monday, which can only mean one thing: Star Trek marathon on Space Channel! Or maybe: Ellen Page gets a surprise celebration from buddy Justin Long? Or how about: only 257 more days until summer?
Okay, in reality, Thanksgiving means that, like it or not, the holiday season is already upon us. Orange and black streamers hanging from gift shop ceilings, Hallmark stores overflowing with turkey cards and placemats, Christmas muzak on every elevator and wafting through every shopping mall, heart-shaped chocolate and chocolate eggs at every checkout. . . yep, the holiday season is already upon us, and will continue pretty much unabated until somewhere around May 1st.
Okay, then: let’s party!
Before I get to today’s recipe, however, I’d like to wish all my Canadian compatriots a very Happy Thanksgiving! And in honor of the onset of the holiday festivities, I’m happy to offer a very special sale of Sweet Freedom.
I found myself with some extra stock of books and think these would make excellent holiday gifts, whether for a friend, family member, or even yourself! Until December 1st, 2009, you can purchase a signed copy (dedicated to the name of your choice) of Sweet Freedom that I will ship directly to you, for just $25.00 US (a 35% discount). There are no extra charges to this price–no shipping, no taxes!
If you’d like to purchase a copy of Sweet Freedom at this special sale price or would like to learn more about the book, simply click on the “Cookbook” tab above or the book icon to the left. Choose the first (sale) option. There! You’ve just completed your holiday gift shopping–more time to have fun!
* * * * * * * * * *
As much as I appreciate living in the 21st century, in some ways I am decidedly old-fashioned. In fact, in many ways, I tend to cleave to the archaic (and not just because I use words like, “cleave,” either). For instance, I don’t care how convenient bread machines may be; to me, it’s not really bread unless it’s mixed, kneaded and shaped by hand. When I was younger, I used to carry handkerchiefs with me rather than tissues (but had to stop the practice because too many people just got grossed out. Even though I washed them after only one use–I swear!). Ever since living with Mr. Audiophile (aka the HH), I’ve come to prefer LPs to CDs (they really do sound better!), though I suppose both will become antiques in the very near future.
And while I’m comfortable using a computer (sure comes in handy when one keeps a food blog) and I participate (nominally) in Facebook and twitter, I have never really warmed up to the concept of a PDA. I don’t own a Blackberry, iPhone, or any other similar electronic device. What I use is an old-fashioned, faux-leather bound, paper daytimer.
I love my daytimer and couldn’t imagine giving it up for any reason. I mean, it’s 100% portable (slips easily into my purse); it’s easy to use (only basic language skills required); and it never requires recharging (which means I can use it anywhere, any time, even during power failures or while in a root cellar during a tornado). When I want to know what’s planned on December 17, for instance, I simply flip the pages to that date and–voilà!–”dental cleaning” (ugh! has it been six months already??). If the HH sidles up to me and murmurs, ”Ric, sweetie, honey, um, can you drive me to my follow up eye surgery appointment next Wednesday at 10:45?” all I need do is flip, flip, flip, and the answer is immediately forthcoming (yes, HH honey sweetie, I will drive you.).
The other day, I realized that I’d soon need to acquire a new, 2010 version of my book. While flipping through the last few pages of 2009 (where a few blank sheets are reserved for “Notes”), I happened upon a recipe that had been hastily scribbled on the last page. Well, what do you know–it was in my own handwriting!
I do remember, vaguely, copying a recipe from a magazine in my doctor’s waiting room one day. Which doctor? Can’t remember. How long ago was this appointment? I have no idea. Which magazine? Hmmm, my mind’s a blank. Was the dish something I’d still like to make? You betcha!
In fact, the recipe–a roasted plum and baby spinach salad topped with bacon–sounded perfect for the upcoming Thanksgiving table. A novel departure from cranberries or pumpkin, the salad still featured a seasonal fruit, as well as pure maple syrup, one of Canada’s most beloved domestic products. As a bonus, I happened to have a bag of organic plums from our organic box waiting patiently on the kitchen counter and had been looking for a way to use them (since my all-too-frequent tendency is to wait until they’re on the verge of spoilage before sussing out a recipe). I made a quick switch to tempeh bacon–and had a great recipe to try out this long weekend!
The salad came together very easily as the kitchen was flooded with the dual sweetness of warming plums and crackling bacon. The crisp, young spinach is the perfect foundation for the slightly softened plums and smoky tempeh. When roasted, the plums just begin to caramelize; tossed in maple syrup, they offer a lovely contrast of sweet, crusty exterior and tart, juicy inner flesh. Punctuated by thin slices of red onion and the sharp piquancy of dijon dressing, the salad offers a pastiche of flavors that was–well, plum delicious. (Sorry, couldn’t resist).
In this second phase of the ACD, I’m allowed one (non-sweet) fruit a day, so I decided to revamp the original recipe so I could eat it, too. I prepared the original version for the HH, set aside a few plum slices for me, and whipped up a separate dressing for each of us. I’m including both recipes here for those of you on restricted diets so that you can enjoy a little sweetness of your own at Thanksgiving. One serving of this, and I guarantee you’ll be ready for party season.
“Um, Mum, you forgot to mention that Thanksgiving weekend also means one more extra long walk for us Girls. . . we love the holidays!”
Tempeh Bacon-Topped, Roasted Plum and Baby Spinach Salad
adapted from a magazine in my doctor’s waiting room (ACD version below)
A perfect first course to a holiday dinner, the salad is substantial without being overly filling. To make a meal of it, increase the amount of tempeh per serving, and add a side of rice pilaf or quinoa.
1 batch (about 12 slices) tempeh bacon, homemade or store bought (I used the recipe from Vegan with a Vengeance, with the ACD-friendly alterations listed below)
8 plums (not black prune type), cut in half and stone removed
8-10 fresh sage leaves
2 Tbsp (30 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
3 garlic cloves, minced
2 Tbsp (30 ml) dijon mustard
1/3 cup (80 ml) red wine vinegar
1/2 cup (120 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
salt and pepper, to taste
2 Tbsp (30 ml) pure maple syrup
1/2 red onion, thinly sliced
2 pkg (20 oz or 570 g) baby spinach
Preheat oven to 450F (230C). Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper.
Place the plums cut side down on the cookie sheet and drizzle with 2 Tbsp (30 ml) olive oil. Scatter the sage leaves onto the sheet around the plums. Bake for about 12 minutes, until plums are softened and cut side is beginning to caramelize, but plums still hold their shape. Remove from oven and cool to room temperature, then slice into half-moon shaped slices. (If you are using homemade tempeh bacon, you can keep it warm on a heatproof platter; cover with foil and reduce oven temperature to 250F (120C) before placing in oven to keep warm.)
Meanwhile, mix the dressing: In a small jar or bowl, combine the minced garlic, red wine vinegar, 1/2 cup (120 ml) olive oil, and salt and pepper to taste. Either whisk the mixture or shake the (closed) jar vigorously until well combined.
To assemble, place spinach leaves on a platter and scatter the onion slices over it. Toss the plums with the maple syrup and place over the spinach. Top with the warm tempeh. Drizzle with dressing, then crumble baked sage leaves over all. Serve immediately. Makes 6-8 servings.
ACD-Friendly Variation:
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Set aside 1 serving of plums before tossing them in the maple syrup; have yours without syrup.
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Instead of the dressing above, mix (per serving): 2 Tbsp (30 ml) freshly squeezed lemon juice, 2 Tbsp (30 ml) extra virgin olive oil, 1/4 tsp (1 ml) mustard powder, and salt and pepper to taste with 1-2 drops stevia liquid.
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Make these changes to the tempeh bacon recipe: omit apple cider, tomato paste, and liquid smoke (unless it’s sugar and alcohol free). Instead of apple cider, use 1/4 cup (60 ml) freshly squeezed lemon juice mixed with enough water to make 1/3 cup (80 ml); add 5 drops liquid stevia. Use tomato paste that is free of sugar and wheat (or use puréed tomato). Instead of liquid smoke, use smoked paprika. Otherwise, follow the recipe as written.
Last Year at this Time: Mini Coconut Loaves or Cupcakes (gluten-free)
© 2009 Diet, Dessert and Dogs
*Or, Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown. Now Eat Some Delicious Spread.
[There's just nothing like a homemade gift for the holidays. This year, with the purse strings a little tighter than usual, I'm determined to make at least a few in my kitchen--and thought I'd share my ideas in case you'd like to partake, too. ]
I know that pretty much everyone in the blogosphere (well, and the rest of the galaxy, too, come to think of it) has already made this spread. But hey, I’ve always been a late bloomer. And now, I’ve finally tried it, too. And it is so *&$@!% good that I had to include it as this (penultimate) Gastronomic Gift this year. (I’ve got one more planned, as long as we can shovel ourselves out of the *&$@!% 25 cm. (just under a foot) of snow that battered the city yesterday and I can get to the store).
Pumpkin butter is the perfect means to use up cooked pumpkin (or squash, to those of us in North America). It’s a great nut butter substitute if you’re trying to reduce fat and calories. Or if, like me, you’ve once again allowed the insidious holiday-time profusion of chocolate and chocolate-coated/ chocolate studded/ chocolate-molded/ chocolate-frosted/ chocolate flavored/ chocolate filled/ chocolate-related-in-any-way desserts that seem to reproduce of their own accord on countertops and dining room tables and candy dishes and office desks and buffets and coffee tables and bar tops and glove compartments and pockets and dessert menus to override your (wobbly at the best of times) self control, and you find that you’ve now consumed more chocolate in the past two weeks than the entire GDP of a small country, more than Big Brother’s secret stash in 1984, more than the exports from Switzerland at Valentine’s Day, more than the full contents of Willie Wonka’s factory–more, really than you’d rightfully expect any normal human being to ingest under any circumstances whatsoever in a lifetime, except maybe under threat of torture.
What? You mean it’s just me?
For some strange reason, I felt the need for a break from chocolate for a while (ahem). Now that I’ve made my own pumpkin butter, I can join the chorus and say that I, too, am smitten. It’s the perfect accompaniment to pretty much any carbohydrate with a flat surface (or even a somewhat bumpy one–have you tried this on rice cakes? Divine.)
But I must admit that my favorite use for the butter isn’t on toast, or a muffin, or pancakes, or any other solid food. I think I love it most blended (using my hand blender) in a tall, cold glass of almond or soymilk. Yum-mers!
It also makes a fabulous hostess gift, of course, and a wonderful last-minute present; it’s the perfect way to use up that final can of pumpkin purée that’s been biding its time in your cupboard since Thanksgiving.
This recipe (the ubiquitous allrecipes version) makes a pretty big batch, so you can scoop some away for home use and still fill two or three pretty little gift jars with the stuff to give away. If you can bear to part with it.
Oh, and there are still four more days to bid on some amazing prizes from Menu for Hope! Hop on over to the main donation page and give it a go!
Pumpkin Butter
adapted from AllRecipes.com
Try this lovely alternative butter anywhere you’d spread jam or nut butter. It’s got no fat, with the bonus of holiday spices all year round.
3-1/2 cups (about 820 g.) cooked, puréed pumpkin
3/4 cup (180 ml.) apple juice [but personally I think OJ would be great in this]
2 tsp. (10 ml.) ground ginger
1/2 tsp. (2.5 ml.) ground cloves
2/3 cup (160 ml.) agave nectar (light or dark)
2 tsp. (10 ml.) ground cinnamon
1 tsp. (5 ml.) ground nutmeg
Combine all ingredients in a medium sized pot. Heat over medium-high heat until mixture boils; reduce heat to low and continue to simmer, stirring very frequently, until the mixture is thick and has darkened (the original recipe said 30 minutes, but mine took a bit more than an hour). This might also be a good time to pull out that old splatter screen if you have one, as the mixture tends to boil and pop a bit (my walls needed a good wipe-down after I was done).
Pour into clean glass jars and store in the refrigerator. Makes about 2 cups (500 ml.). Will keep at least 3 weeks in the refrigerator.
Other Gastronomic Gifts:
GG I: Fudge Two Ways
GG II: Brandied Apricot-Ginger Spread
GG III: Marzipan-Topped Shortbread **Note: the original recipe was somehow transcribed incorrectly–please use the current version with the correct amount of flour!!
GG IV: Jam-Filled Turnovers
GG V: Tutti Fruiti Christmas Cookies
GG VII: Chocolate Macaroons in a Flash
Last Year at this Time: Holiday Cranberry Chippers
© 2008 Diet, Dessert and Dogs
Recently, I was tagged by Kelly at The Pink Apron and River of Wing It Vegan to share 7 random facts about myself, and Giz at Equal Opportunity Kitchen to do a blog-related meme.
I do enjoy memes (and love reading about others through their memes), but I must admit that I am finding it more and more difficult to come up with new facts about myself. That, and I suspect some of you are growing a little weary of reading about me and my various eccentricities, when what you’re really here for is the food!
“Um, Mum, your readers may be a bit overloaded on YOUR memes, but what about us? There are still plenty of random facts we could tell you about the two of us. . . .”
“Yeah, right! Hey, Elsie, how about that we love to play! And that the yellow ball is my favorite! Oh, oh, and that we LOVE to jump up on people! And what about that we bark at cars that drive by outside! Or that we love Greenies! Or how about the way I pull on your ear every 30 seconds–”
“Zip it, Chaser. I am sure they get the idea. But there will be no ear-pulling for the next ten days, at least.”
Ah, yes, that reminds me: before I get to the meme, I should also mention the “Injury” referred to in the post title. Once again, our accident-prone Elsie Girl has had a brush with the law mortality a metal post. While frolicking with her sister the other day, sweet Elsie ran too close to a steel goal post at the park and whacked her side against it, ripping off a chunk of her haunch. Poor baby! And so the HH and I (and Chaser, who, after all, couldn’t be left all alone at home) spent our Saturday evening at the Vet Emergency clinic, where Elsie was treated to a bit of a shave, a cleansing of the wound, some staples to reconnect the skin, and a lovely cone on her head, which she absolutely abhors, poor thing.
Here she is, in all her misery:
["Help. . . . me. . . . . "]
The worst part is that Chaser is terrified of the cone and won’t go near Elsie right now. No more ear-biting, indeed.
And now, on to the meme, and seven random facts about me. I won’t tag anyone else (it seems many of you have already done this one), but please do feel free to participate if you’d like.
1) I didn’t learn to drive a car until I was about 30. Well, I first acquired my license at 16 like the rest of my friends, but then moved away to university and didn’t have the opportunity to drive again until I was married. I’d taken lessons for about a week when my husband and I decided to separate, which meant I was driving myself to work (about an hour each way) along busy provincial highways long before I felt ready to do so. Talk about baptism by fire! (In this case, by ice, actually, as it was mid-winter when all this transpired). A couple of dents to the fender and more than a decade later, and I’m finally comfortable behind the wheel.
2) I collect odd cups and saucers, and champagne flutes. When I was a kid, my mom had a collection of odd cups and saucers that seemed to exist just outside our awareness in a glass cabinet in the kitchen. When I moved out on my own, however, my sisters starting giving me similar items as gifts, and I began to really appreciate them. I love the varying patterns one finds on the older designs, the delicate structure of the cup and saucer, the nearly transparent quality of the fine china, and the elegance they exude (I always feel I should raise my pinkie when I sip out of one of them).
A few years after I began to collect the cups and saucers, I was introduced to champagne (or, at least, sparkling wine) when a friend served me a glass of Segura Viudas. Well, I was so impressed that shortly thereafter, I began to collect champagne flutes, too. I’ll often buy them on sale at the end of the season–who wants to buy just one flute, right?–and have amassed about 3 dozen so far.
 My favorites are a couple I received for birthdays, the voluptuous pewter-stemmed one the HH gave me the first year we were together (see left), and the Waterford crystal pair the HH and I purchased for the turn of the century.
3) I memorized every word of Beowulf in the original Old English during my PhD. For our final exam, we were given a random passage in Old English and had to translate it. Not wanting to take any chances, I decided to memorize the entire poem. How much do I remember today? This much: “Hwat! we, Gar-dena, in yeor dayum. . .” Yep, the first five words. Well, it got me an “A” on the exam, anyway.
4) I was asked to be Valedictorian at my high school graduation, but I was too shy and said no. Decades later, I’m still shy, but when I was given the opportunity again for my graduation from nutrition school in 2003, I decided I couldn’t pass it up twice, and said yes. Very happy that I did!
5) When I was a teen, some of my friends and I worked as cashiers at the local drugstore (called a “pharmacy” in Montreal, even though the actual pharmacy dispensary was a small space at the back of the store). We used to call it “The Phunny Pharm.” My friends Babe, Sterlin, Phil and Angel also all worked there, so on any given day, it was guaranteed that I’d be working alongside one of my best friends. We often created code words to alert each other when a cute guy came in the store. The names were connected to various cigarette brands (which, in those days, were sold out in the open from shelves behind the cash). The cuter the guy, the stronger the brand we chose for his nickname. When we saw a REALLY cute guy, we’d call across the aisle to each other, “Hey, Ric, do you have any packs of Rothmans at your cash?” or, “Um, Sterlin, I think I’ve run out of Du Maurier over here. . . ” The men never twigged in to it, even though sometimes three of us would come running to the counter at the same time, all ostensibly “looking for a pack of Rothmans.”
6) I started smoking in my 20s and didn’t quit until I met the HH in 1997 (at which point I was smoking about 1/2 pack a day–though nothing as strong as Rothman’s, of course). Now, don’t go thinking that he was such a great influence on me, or anything. . . I quit because of my various health issues, not for love (how very unromantic of me, I know). When I revamped my diet, I figured I should give my lungs a break, too. The only smoke I’ve inhaled since then is second-hand.
7) I once got to meet Chris de Burgh in person (true, not very exciting to all of you out there too young to recognize the name!). At the height of his popularity, some friends and I went to one of his concerts in Montreal. Because my friend Angel had met him while traveling in Ireland and they’d become correspondents (in the days before email, folks), he arranged backstage passes for her and five of her friends. Somewhere in a box in my basement is a wine-stained scrap of paper on which is scrawled something to the effect of, ”For Ricki, With all best wishes, Chris de Burgh.” (Hey–maybe I can sell it and become one of those mansion-people I wrote about in the last post?)
So there you go, seven random facts. I know I mentioned yet another meme to post, but I think I’ll save that for another day and avert a real Meme Overload. And on the subject of overloading, I’ve got a nice, light and not-too-filling post-Thanksgiving recipe for you next time round.
To those of you in the U.S., hope you have a wonderful Thanksgiving!
["I bet all those people outside are having a great holiday weekend. . . and all I can do is stare out this window. . . *sigh*."]
Possible Captions:
“”We are peasant babooshkas who have toiled in the fields and lost our fortunes, so please give us some food.”
“We are cute little homeless girls and we have lost our fortunes, so please give us some food.”
“We are (food)bank robbers here to get our fortunes, so give us some food–or else.”
“Mum, we are humiliated having to wear these costumes, so please stop this silly trick and just give us the treats.”
“Mum, we are kinda freaked out by these tight-fitting costumes, so please stop this silly trick and just give us the treats.”
“Mum, why must you anthropomorphize us and make us wear these silly costumes? We deserve our canine dignity! Now, give us some treats.”
“Mum, is this the best you could do for costumes? An old hat and a scarf? Really, Mum, this is beneath us. I think you’d better just give us our treats.”
“Wow, look how monstrous our eyes seem with the yellow and green shiny glow in the center! MWWHOOOHAAAA, Scary! Okay, now give us some treats.”
“I think this brown and orange ensemble is rather fetching on me, don’t you, Elsie?” “I’ll fetch YOU, Chaser. Sure, you get the vibrant colors and I get the dowdy gray. I think I need some treats.”
“Oooh, Mr. Demille, I think I’m ready for my close up!” “Oh, great, Chaser, now we might never get out of these horrible things. Couldn’t you just zip it? Those treats are taking forever. . . *sigh*.”
And please feel free to add more captions in the comments section . . . .
and HAPPY HALLOWEEN!
One of the shared quirks of most Canadians is our propensity to focus on the weather (well, that, and our internationally-recognized, world-renowned politeness. Oh, but please do excuse me for interrupting that train of thought with a parenthesis–how very rude! I do apologize).
We tend to talk about the weather, attempt to predict the weather, fume about the weather, complain vociferously about the weather, aim to forestall the weather, dread the weather, boast about surviving the weather, try desperately to ignore the weather, occasionally (like two days a year) rejoice at the weather, discuss and ponder and ruminate about the weather. . . basically, we are obsessed by the weather. Why?
Well, I suppose, it has something to do with our ancestors and early settlers whose lives really were ruled by the vagaries of snow, sleet and wind, or the whims of Mother Nature–one false move in January in Peterborough, and you ended up dead. These days, of course, we’ve got heating and insulation during the winter months, but it seems we’ve inherited the predilection to stress about the weather all year round.
This past weekend, for instance, the air was gloriously warm but maddeningly humid. Now, why couldn’t we simply combine the temperatures with the sunshine of a crisp February morning, and call it a summer’s day? I’m really a warm-weather gal, despite my lack of any athletic or outdoorsy skills or prowess. I am happy to sit outside in the back yard, read a book or magazine, or simply watch The Girls wrestle on the grass when the weather is felicitous.
When people first find out that I was born and raised in Montreal, they inevitably comment, “Oh, well, then, you MUST be a skier, right, with all that snow you get over there?” Sadly, no. I do not ski. I do not skate. I do not snowmobile on a lake. I do not like the snow on ground, I do not like it where it’s found. I do not like the cold or snow–I do not like it, I wish it would GO. (Ah, yes, once again, I must apologize for going off on a rant. And to Dr. Seuss, too, of course.)
Now that fall has almost arrived, the climate is beginning to evoke thoughts of cosy sweaters, fuzzy blankets, knees tucked up before the fireplace. When we take The Girls for their walks along the trails, the barren trees on either side of the paths span above our heads, branches reaching across to touch each other as if holding hands. Carpets of brown, red, and orange leaves crinkle below our feet as we stroll along. There is, I must admit, something rather appealing about it all. In addition, autumn is the harbinger of Holiday Season–for some, as early as the end of the month.
The other day, my friend Eternal Optimist asked about recipes for Rosh Hashanah. The Jewish New Year falls on September 28th this year, and she was looking for new recipes for baked goods, as her son recently became vegan and most of her current recipes contain eggs and dairy. I thought about the traditional Rosh Hashanah recipes focusing on apples and honey, and remembered a cake my mom used to bake when we were kids. The recipe was from a Mazola Corn Oil recipe card, and (along with a hefty portion of corn oil) featured both apples and honey in a huge bundt cake embracing thinly sliced Macintoshes between layers of fragrant, moist honey cake, so that it kind of resembled a cross-section of the Canadian Shield when cut, the strata of golden, caramelized fruit nestled between tender, tawny cake. Well, of course, once I thought of it, I simply had to re-create that cake.
I couldn’t find my mum’s recipe, so I made one up based on a vanilla cake I created a few years ago, adding brown rice syrup as a stand-in for honey, paired with cinnamon and Sucanat-dusted apples. Here, then, is my version of the childhood favorite. This cake is perfect for any holiday celebration, as it could easily serve a crowd. It’s not overly fancy, so if you’d like to dress it up a bit, glaze it with your favorite glaze or dust with confectioner’s sugar, if you choose. The fruit filling is generous and bountiful, just like the harvest in autumn, and might even make you forget the cloudy, stormy, chilly air outside while you indulge.
Since this cake was based on one my mom used to make, I’m submitting it to the “Making History” event hosted by Allan at Recovered Recipes. The event asks you to find (and photograph) an old recipe card and post the outcome of the recipe. My version of the old recipe is one that my mom used to make, which I found in a handwritten baking book:
[Yep, that's an old recipe, all right. . . ]
And here’s the updated version!
Holiday Apple Bundt Cake
I’ve been known to enjoy a slice of this for breakfast–add a handful of nuts and really, isn’t that a balanced meal?
4 1/2-5 cups (1 liter to 1200 ml.) very thin apple slices (from about 4 large peeled and cored apples–or leave the peel on, if you prefer; I used a combination of Gala and Granny Smith, as that’s what we had)
1/4 cup ( g.) Sucanat
1 Tbsp. (15 ml.) cinnamon
1/2 cup (120 ml.) light agave nectar
1/4 cup (60 ml.) brown rice syrup
1/3 cup (80 ml.) sunflower or other light-tasting oil, preferably organic
3/4 cup (180 ml.) plain or vanilla soymilk or almond milk
1 Tbsp. (15 ml.) pure vanilla extract
1/2 tsp. (2.5 ml.) pure lemon extract
2 tsp. (10 ml.) apple cider vinegar
2 tsp. (10 ml.) finely ground chia seeds (Salba)
1-1/2 cups (215 g.) light spelt flour
3/4 cup (90 g.) whole barley flour
1 Tbsp. (15 ml.) baking powder
1 tsp. (5 ml.) baking soda
1/2 tsp. (2.5 ml.) sea salt
Preheat oven to 350F (180 C). Grease a large bundt pan with coconut oil, or spray with nonstick spray.
In a large bowl, toss the apple slices with the sucanat and cinnamon; set aside.
In a medium bowl, whisk together the agave, rice syrup, oil, soymilk, vanilla, lemon extract, apple cider vinegar, and chia seeds until smooth. Ensure that there are no little lumps of chia seeds remaining. Set aside while you measure the dry ingredients, or at least 2 minutes.
In another large bowl, sift together the spelt flour, barley flour, baking powder, baking soda and sea salt. Pour the liquid mixture over the dry ingredients and stir to combine. Don’t worry if a few dry spots remain here or there.
Spread about 1/3 of the batter in the bottom of the pan (this doesn’t have to be exact; just estimate). Next, take about half the apples and layer them over the batter in the pan, taking care not to touch the sides of the pan (it’s not a tragedy if they do; it will just make it a bit more difficult to get the baked cake out of the pan later on). Using a tablespoon, dot the apples with another 1/3 of the batter. Use a rubber spatula to spread the batter over the apples, covering them entirely if you can. Use up the apples to top the batter with another layer of apple slices. Finally, use the tablespoon to cover the apples with the final third of batter, and spread the batter across the apples as evenly as possible with a rubber spatula. There should be mostly batter on top, but it’s okay if a few edges of apple stick out here or there.
Bake the cake in the preheated oven for 50 minutes to an hour, rotating the pan once about halfway through, until a tester comes out clean when placed halways between the two sides of the pan at any point. The top of the cake should be domed and browned.
Allow the cake to cool for at least 10 minutes in the pan before inverting onto a serving plate or cooling rack. Cool completely before slicing. Makes about 24 small servings or 12 large servings. May be frozen.
[This recipe will also appear in my upcoming cookbook, Sweet Freedom, along with more than 100 others, most of which are not featured on this blog. For more information, check the "Cookbook" button at right, or visit the cookbook blog.]
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