[You have blown me away with all your responses to my call for recipe testers--thanks to everyone who sent emails! I'll be taking names/email addresses until early next week, so if you're interested, please send an email to dietdessertdogsATgmailDOTcom with the subject line, "BREAKFAST TESTER." I'll get back to everyone later in the week!]
As I mentioned in my last post, the HH and I munched on some eggplant “bacon” with our Christmas Day brunch pancakes. Yep, another veggie-based faux meat from DDD! First it was beet pepperoni (or, as River dubbed it, “beetaroni”); then cauliflower meat crumbles, and now, bacon. What’s up with that?
I suppose it’s kind of ironic that the daughter of a butcher doesn’t eat meat. And isn’t it ironic that, considering I don’t eat meat, I have so many faux meats on this blog? It’s like I’m destined to create vegan counterparts to the items my dad sold in his work life. Ironic! It’s like my genetic makeup has preordained that my kitchen adventures would be intertwined with meats of some sort or another. It’s like–
It’s like rain, on your wedding day. A free ride, when you’ve already paid. It’s the good advice that you just didn’t take. . . and who would’ve thought–
(Oh, sorry, a different kind of irony, there. And hey, congrats on the new arrival, Ms. M)–
–It figures.
Maybe it’s the fact that at almost every meal, the HH whines about the lack of meat. Maybe it’s that our society has ingrained the concept of a savory, smoky, succulent serving of food alongside every grain, breakfast item or mashed tuber. Maybe it’s my competitive streak and I’m attempting to out-Bourdain Bourdain.
Or, maybe, I just like playing with my veggies.
Whatever the reason, I knew I had to try this as soon as I read about eggplant bacon in my new cookbook, Raw Food for Everyone by Alissa Cohen. Cohen’s version adds but 3 ingredients to the eggplant (liquid aminos, agave and cayenne) and is dehydrated for 12-15 hours. I wanted more complexity to enhance the naturally meaty taste and texture of eggplant. I knew I’d be too impatient to wait the full dehydrator time (even though my oven has a digital display that can be set at 115F) and so I just baked the strips in the oven at 325F. It took a while but in the end, I had crispy, crunchy “bacon.”
These strips were a perfect accompaniment to the light, fluffy pancakes and sweet plum sauce at our brunch. The HH enjoyed them just as much as I did, in fact, and ended up eating more than half the batch. Rather ironic, I’d say.
And in the “I-Am-So-Excited-I-Am-Doing-a-Happy-Dance-Right-Here-at-My-Computer” Department: DDD has just been named a finalist in the Canadian Food Blog Awards! You can check out all the finalists here. And thank you, all, once again for nominating my blog for the award, and for reading! You are the BEST!
Eggplant “Bacon” (suitable for ACD Stage 1 and beyond)
Diet, Dessert and Dogs (http://dietdessertndogs.com)
These strips would work really well on a pizza or other savory dish (such as an “ELT” sandwich–yum!). The slow-cook method allows the strips to dry out just enough that they retain a bit of chewiness in the center and crisp up on the edges. If you’ve got more time, try cooking them longer, but at an even lower temperature to maintain an even crispness throughout.
1 medium eggplant, peeled and then cut in rectangular strips about 1/8″ (3 mm) thick (cut them the full length of the eggplant)
1/4 tsp (1 ml) garlic powder (be sure it’s not garlic salt, or the strips will be mega-salty!)
5-10 drops stevia liquid, to your taste
1 Tbsp (15 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
1/4 cup (60 ml) water
1 Tbsp (15 ml) minced red onion (or grate it on the smallest holes of a box grater)
Preheat oven to 325F (165C). Line a rimmed cookie sheet with parchment.
In a square glass pan, mix together the Bragg’s, paprika, garlic powder, stevia, oil, water and onion; whisk well to create a marinade. Lay the strips in the marinade, turning each one over once to coat on both sides. Allow to sit at least 20 minutes or up to an hour, turning the stips over once or twice.
Remove the strips from the marinade (you will have some liquid left in the pan–hold on to it for later) and lay them in a single layer on the parchment. Bake for 25 minutes, then remove from pan and brush with any extra marinade. Return to the oven for another 25 minutes; remove from the pan, turn the strips over, and brush with any leftover marinade (you will have enough marinade for 3-4 brushings).
Repeat the cycle once more (a total of 25-50 more minutes), watching the strips carefully so that they become crisp and browned without burning. If some of the strips begin to brown too much, remove them from the cookie sheet and continue to bake the others until they are all ready. (Note: the crinkly appearance of the “bacon” in my photo is the result of baking on the parchment after it became wet from the marinade and crinkled that way–it was just lucky those ridges happen to resemble actual bacon!). Makes 2-3 servings. Best eaten immediately.
I heard there’s this thing calleed “Super Bowl Sunday” going on today. Personally, I’ve never really seen the point. I mean, seriously, what’s the big fuss? A bunch of slightly overweight guys gripping a ball, then running and throwing it and then all that tumbling on the ground. Gee, and all this time I thought bowling was already passé. Silly me!
Well, pizza is one of those comestibles that suits any occasion, sporty Sunday or otherwise. . . so here’s my contribution to all those super bowlers out there.
While switching to a plant-based diet from a more omnivorous one can be traumatic for some, for me, meat was never much of an issue (I explain more about my relationship with meat on myAbout page). Instead, what I missed–and still miss, dearly–is my first love, milk chocolate. Why does something sadly so devoid of nutritional value have to taste so darned good? I also miss whipped cream (so I made my own version), soft-serve ice cream (hard to find a suitable substitute here) and the occasional marshmallow (though come to think of it, all of those others have more to do with sugar content than dairy or eggs).
But meat? Naw.
One exception, though, is pepperoni on pizza. Why the yearning for the greasy, paper-thin, spicy rounds of flesh and nitrates? I can’t be sure, but I think it may have something to do with Sundays during my childhood.
When I was a kid, my dad worked 6 days a week in his butcher shop, leaving our house before we children even emerged, creases still on our faces and with bed-head coiffures, for breakfast; he returned long after our dinner had left the table. But on Sundays, presumably, he rested. And what did he do instead every sabbath? He packed up the wife and kids into the family station wagon and drove back to that selfsame butcher shop so my mom could do her weekly “grocery” shopping from the store! (Sure, she had to go to the regular supermarket for other staples like lettuce, canned soup, canned tuna, etc., but meats, eggs, dairy and a dizzying array of imported crackers and cookies could be got at Dad’s shop).
We’d pile into the car-cum-delivery truck, make the trek across the city through scenic TMR over to Jean Talon Boulevard and into the vacant store. It was then the negotiations began.
“I want a Fruitella!” the CFO would cry; I’d chime in, “No! how about some SweeTarts?” The Nurse (if she graced us with her teenaged presence at all) would reach for the box of boozy European filled chocolates on the countertop.
“Just one each,” our father would admonish, but if we were really lucky (or sneaky), we’d each make off with another prize as well, my favorite: the Icy Square. Then we’d savor our sweets as my mother browsed the glass counters and chose her food for the week.
Behind the butcher block, suspended like offerings from the hand of some robotic deity, were huge salamis hanging on thick steel hooks. They dried in the open air, exuding droplets of fat as if sweating from the exertion of their acrobatic feat of hanging upside down. There were the thinner pepperoni sticks as well, and one in particular that my dad called “karnatzl“ (you can see what they look like here–scroll about halfway down the page). I never knew it at the time, but karnatzl is a Romanian word for the garlicky sausage–basially, thin pepperoni. And they were my very favorite Sunday snack.
My father would snap off a length of the solid, dehydrated sausage for us to gnaw on as we roamed about the store while my mother completed her “shopping.” The CFO and I would relish the crunchy, spicy meat that oozed with bits of gooey tallow in each bite. The concept of biting into animal fat now makes me shudder both physically and emotionally, but back then I was a carefree eight year-old happy to munch on a stick of beef parts.
My love of pepperoni endured until my first year or so with the HH, when we enjoyed All-Dressed Pizza Night on a regular basis. (I learned quickly when I moved to Toronto from Montreal that pizza is yet another way the two cities differ; in Toronto, you order by ingredient: “Gimme a medium thin-crust with double cheese, mushrooms, peppers and tomato”; in Montreal, in contrast, pizza is distinguished by title: “I’ll take a small Pepperoni” or “I’ll have a medium All-Dressed.”). When I was growing up, all-dressed pizza meant sauce, cheese, green pepper, mushrooms–and lots of pepperoni.
I decided I wanted a pepperoni pizza. No small feat, considering I don’t eat meat. Or gluten. Or cheese.
During my recent love affair with beets, I had a revelation: don’t those beet slices look sorta like slices of salami? Hmm. . . I just had to try it.
The result is this faux pepperoni, perfect on pizza or anywhere else you’d use a spicy, smoky slice of meat (I had the leftovers in a sandwich with tomato, lettuce and onion–superb!). The flavor is lovely, with only a hint of sweetness surviving the smoky, spicy marinade and baking time. The key here is to slice the pieces thinly enough to bake up soft and then slightly crispy on the edges (as you’ll see from my photo, this batch is a little thick. Must. Get. Mandoline.) Too thick, and they still have the subtle earthy flavor of, well, beets.
I will warn you, to create the entire pizza from scratch takes time. Next time, I’ll prep the cheese and pepperoni a day in advance, then cook up the crust and top it when I want to eat it for dinner. But if you’re craving an All Dressed Pepperoni Pizza, this makes a great stand-in, without any wheat, heavy processing, sugar, fillers, or isolated soy protein.
Now, isn’t that better than meat?
I’m entering this post in Food Renegade’s Fight Back Fridays, dedicated to real food recipes, since everything in this pizza is true food!
And speaking of televised events. . . for those of you in the Toronto area, I’ll be appearing on Rogers TV daytime show on Thursday, February 11th live at 10:00 AM (repeat at 5:00 PM) on cable channels 10 and 63 to discuss healthy chocolate Valentine’s Day treats. Tune in and let me know what you think!
All Dressed Pizza with Pepperoni Slices (ACD-Friendly–Phase II)
It’s a classic. . . all-dressed pizza. Great for family dinners, Super Bowl Sundays, or whatever occasion you please.
For the pizza:
1 recipe of your favorite pizza crust–I used this one
1 recipe of your favorite “cheese” (or use a premade one like daiya)–I adapted this one (my version below)
3/4-1 cup (180-240 ml) of your favorite pizza sauce (I made my own from canned tomatoes, basil, oregano and garlic powder, but this one sounds good)
toppings of choice: chopped green pepper, chopped red onion, black olives, mushrooms (if you can have ‘em) and PEPPERONI!
For the pepperoni:
3-4 very small fresh beets, peeled and sliced extremely thin (if you have a mandoline, go for it)
1 Tbsp (15 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
2 Tbsp (30 ml) Bragg’s liquid aminos OR tamari OR soy sauce
1/2 cup (120 ml) vegetable broth
1/4-1/2 tsp (1-2.5 ml) liquid smoke, to your taste*
Place everything except the beets in the bottom of a 9-inch (22.5 cm) square glass pan or a casserole dish and combine well. Add the beet slices and toss to coat them all; spread them out as well as you can (overlapping slices is okay).
Bake the slices, uncovered, for about 20 minutes, then remove from the oven and flip them over and around to re-coat them with marinade and switch the bottom slices to the top and top to the bottom as much as possible. Continue to bake and stir them up every 10-15 minutes until they have absorbed most of the marinade, are very soft, and begin to curl and crisp at the edges. Remove from oven and set aside until you need them for the pizza.
* If you can’t use liquid smoke because of candida issues, double up the smoked paprika.
1/4 cup (60 ml) melted coconut oil, preferably organic
1/2-1 tsp (2.5 -5 ml) fine sea salt, to your taste
2 more cloves garlic, minced
1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) yellow mustard powder
1 Tbsp (15 ml) freshly squeezed lemon juice
1/4 tsp (1 ml) ground black pepper
pinch cayenne pepper
1/4 tsp (1 ml) paprika
In a medium saucepan, combine the broth, onion, cut garlic cloves, carrots and potato and bring to a boil. Lower heat to simmer, cover and cook for about 15 mintutes, until the vegetables are soft. Drain, reserving the cooking liquid. Set aside.
In the meantime, place the remaining ingredients in a blender and whir briefly to combine. Add 1/2 cup (120 ml) of the vegetable liquid and the drained vegetables to the blender and blend to create a fairly thick, smooth sauce. You will need to scrape down the sides several times and then blend again to ensure that everything is well incorporated (if you need a teeny touch more liquid, go ahead and add it–but don’t make the sauce too thin, or it will soak your pizza crust!). Use to top your pizza. Makes about 2 cups–too much for one pizza; I used leftovers on pasta the next day.
Assemble the pizza:
Preheat oven to 400F (200C).
Spread tomato sauce on the prepared crust and top with a healthy drizzle of the cheese sauce. Sprinkle with your toppings of choice. Bake in preheated oven for about 15 minutes or until the pizza is warmed through. Then top with the beet pepperoni slices as desired and bake another 10-15 minutes until piping hot. Makes one large pizza (feeds 2 in our house).
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)
