I’m from the generation that was raised on soap operas. In fact, I first learned to watch soaps at my mother’s knee (no, seriously: the TV was perched on her dresser at the foot of the bed; she sat on the bed, and I, on the floor. . . at her knee). When I was a child, she watched Edge of Night; then Secret Storm. As a teen, I remember my mom’s daily soap trilogy of Days of Our Lives, Another World, and General Hospital blaring as she did the ironing, folded laundry, or ate her lunch in front of the TV.
Up until it went off the air a couple of years ago, I loved watching my favorite soap as well. Since its demise, I’ve barely watched any television at all (though some might suggest that’s a good thing). My weekday evenings would go something like this: walk the dogs, prep dinner, catch up with the HH, clear up the kitchen together. Retreat upstairs to the TV room where I’d snuggle in to my favorite armchair, feet tucked under me and a steaming cup of herbal tea in my hand. Flick on the PVR and start the day’s episode. Gaze with anticipation at the screen; adjust the volume as the credits roll. Sit back and savor every one of the 42 minutes of the show.
Unless, of course, it was a day when this happened:
Voice Over Announcer: The role of Mary Montgomery will now be played by [some unknown actress's name].
Didn’t you hate when they did that? Poof!–Just like that–one of your favorite characters could become. . . somebody else!
Sometimes, the show didn’t even bother to find a successor who resembled the original actor (as when Peter Bergman replaced Terry Lester as Jack) or–the apex of “please suspend your disbelief”–when they replaced Anne Heche, who had assumed the role of identical twins Marly and Vicky, with two separate actresses who were not only different somatotypes, but also about six inches apart in height.
On the other hand, there are plenty of occasions when a stand-in might just surpass the original. Do you know the story of how Shirley Maclaine got her start on Broadway? Toiling as an unknown understudy to Carol Haney in The Pyjama Game, Maclaine leapt to fame when she replaced Haney at the last minute after the star broke her ankle. The rest, as they say, is history. (And have any of you heard of Carol Haney since then? I didn’t think so). Similarly, I’d say that the unnamed actor’s moves in Flashdance (that eye-popping finale in front of the dance academy judges at the end of the film) certainly outshone anything Beals herself could have done. And who didn’t think that the body double for Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman was infinitely more appealing in those thigh-high boots than the somewhat equine Ms. Roberts herself?
Well, this past weekend was a bit of a whirlwind for the HH and me, one that involved its own stand-in of sorts. After a final celebratory brunch at Fresh in honor of my birthday (don’t you just love a birthday that lasts almost a month?), I threw a little dinner for my office mate, who married his long-time sweetheart a couple of months back. Interestingly, while the number of couples opting for cohabitation continues to increase yearly, Mr. Mate is the second person over 40 that I know who tied the knot recently. (Is there some tax loophole for “legally married in middle age” that the HH and I should know about?).
Our dinner party menu was a truly eclectic affair, with food geared both toward the omnis among us (ie, everyone except me) and a few choice morsels from my vegan repertoire, selected specifically to wow the guests (I didn’t want to overwhelm those folks with a full-on ACD menu; we do want them to come back, after all). So I served these sushi rolls as appetizers, which everyone gobbled up with glee.
Now, I’ve mentioned before that the HH and I used to enjoy a weekly lunch date, which began after I switched my diet from the SAD to the NAG (luckily, those acronyms apply to my eating habits rather than describing me in general). Every Tuesday, we’d meet for sushi: the HH savored his chunks o’ raw seafood, while I relished my beloved veggie maki. For several years, all was well with the Ricki-HH world. (“And our world, too, Mum! Except we weren’t crazy about you leaving us for two whole hours once a week. What’s up with that?“).
Once I reverted to the strict ACD in March, 2009, sushi was off the table–literally. I wasn’t permitted even a minute amount of sugar (used to season sushi rice), and of course the (white, refined) sushi rice was also forbidden. Wahhhh! Instead, I frequently turned to one of my favorite substitutes, raw nori rolls, which I could make at home whenever I craved sushi. Unfortunately, this dietary change also means that my lunch dates with the HH have been put on hold indefinitely since then. (“But Mum, now you have more time with us! How’s that for a bonus??”).
When I came upon Gena’s recipe for raw sushi “rice,” I knew I’d have to give it a try in lieu of my usual rolls. And a bonus for me (besides all that extra time with The Girls) is that it’s made from parsnips–this month’s SOS ingredient! Knowing I could depend on Gena for a recipe that was both reliable and delicious, I went ahead and rolled up a huge batch.
Incredibly easy to make, this sushi rice evokes a distinct Asian palate with a novel combination of ingredients. When raw, parsnips are mildly flavored and don’t overpower the other seasonings; they provide the perfect foil for any vegetables you choose to surround with ”rice,” all wrapped in a glossy, chewy, umami nori sheet. The beauty of this recipe is that you can pair the “rice” with any filling you fancy. The HH and I first enjoyed some simple rolls with just “rice,” avocado and tomato on the first night we tried them. For my guests, I added cucumber, carrot and green onion to the mix. I also drizzled a little sriracha over the top of the veggies before rolling–a great way to provide the “oomph” of wasabi paste when you don’t have the actual wasabi at home (though I’m definitely going to try these again using pickled ginger and wasabi for a more traditional “sushi” experience). I’d even try the “rice” on its own or with other toppings as part of a dinner bowl rather than rolled in sushi–I think it could stand up well on its own.
My office mate and his new bride adored these little bites, as do the HH and I. They had no idea what was in them, except that it wasn’t rice; and they certainly didn’t realize that our appetizers were both ACD friendly and vegan. In fact, I’m already planning for the plant-based replacement I’ll use in our main course, next time.
Raw Sushi with Parsnip “Rice” (adapted from Choosing Raw)
This month’s featured ingredient is one that Kim and I both adore. Although they’re a bit of a paleface compared to many other antioxidant-rich vegetables, they offer lots of great nutritional value as well as deep, succulent flavor. They may at first appear like off-white carrots, but this month’s veggie offers its own unique, healthy and delicious properties. We’re talking about–
They may look like albino carrots, but the gnarly parsnip, native to Asia and Europe, provides many health benefits. One of the less-lauded root veggies, parsnips appear to be paler carrots with somewhat bumpy exteriors and a light yellow or off-white flesh inside. Their flavor has been described as alternately nutty, sweet, or peppery; I also find them somewhat earthy. Because of their high starch content, they brown and caramelize well when roasted, releasing natural sugars for a mild, sweet flavor.
Known as a biannual plant, the flowers blossom from June until August, though only the roots are consumed (unlike carrots, the tops of which can be eaten). [source] Interestingly, parsnips aren’t grown in warmer climates because they require frost to develop their flavor (one reason they’re so abundant where Kim and I live, I guess!) [source]
Health Benefits of Parsnips
While parsnips are a white root vegetable like potatoes, there are some significant differences between the two. Parsnips contain lower levels of protein and vitamin C than spuds, but they do provide more fiber. And parsnips contain a host of nutrients, offering an excellent source of vitamin C, fiber, folic acid, pantothenic acid, copper, and manganese. They also contain good amounts of niacin, thiamine, magnesium, and potassium. [source]
In fact, some sources suggest that parsnips can be used to help regulate bowel movements and to keep the liver healthy. [source]
When choosing your parsnips, look for cream or lightly tan exteriors, with a skin as smooth as possible. The smaller roots are the more tender ones; the larger roots tend to become woody.
Parsnips should be peeled unless they’re organic (in which case, wash well and scrub away any visible dirt before cutting and cooking). Some sources suggest that parsnips should never be eaten raw, but this is a fallacy; it’s just fine to eat them that way! Use them to replace some or all of your potatoes in a mash; chop or grate and include in soups, stews or pasta sauces; roast on their own or in root vegetable fries; or mix up with your favorite carrot cake recipe, substituting parsnips for some or all of the carrot. The possibilites are endless!
Now, it’s time for you to show us what YOU can do with parsnips! You have until the end of the month to link up your favorite parsnip-based recipes.
To participate, please adhere to the following guidelines. We hate to remove entries, so PLEASE READ THE GUIDELINES CAREFULLY BEFORE LINKING UP!
Cook up a recipe–whether yours or someone else’s with credit to them–using parsnips.
Your recipe must be made for this event, within the month of the challenge–sorry, no old posts are accepted. Then, post the recipe to your blog (if you don’t have a blog, see instructions below).
Be sure to mention the event on your post and link to the current SOS page so that everyone can find the collection of recipes. Then, link up the recipe using the linky tool below.
As a general rule, please use mostly whole foods ingredients (minimally processed with no artificial flavors, colors, prepackaged sauces, etc.). For example, whole grains and whole grain flours; no refined white flours or sugar (but either glutenous OR gluten-free flours are fine).
Please ensure that recipes are veganor include a vegan alternative (no animal products such as meat, fish, chicken, milk, yogurt, eggs, honey).
Please use natural sweeteners (no white sugar, nothing that requires a laboratory to create–such as splenda, aspartame, xylitol, etc.). Instead, try maple syrup, agave nectar, brown rice syrup, coconut sugar, dates, yacon syrup, Sucanat, stevia, etc.
Feel free to use the event logo on your blog to help promote the event!
Have fun and let your creativity shine!
You may enter as many times as you like, but please submit a separate entry for each recipe, and submit only one entry per blog post.
If you don’t have a blog, you can still participate! Simply email your recipe, or recipe and a photo, to soskitchenchallenge@gmail.com. We’ll post it for you.
For all the details (and to view past challenges), check out the SOS Kitchen Challenge page. Deadline for submission is Wednesday, November 30, 2011. Kim and I look forward to seeing all your culinary creations using parsnips!
With all of my 175 students’ assignments, exams and final marks finally submitted–I am now officially on holidays until 2011–whoo hoo! That makes me one very celebratory gal. Par-tay, I say!
And how about having everything all ready to start cooking my big holiday meal?
Um, no. (Insert sheepish expression here).
“Mum, did you say, ‘sheep?’ I’m half border collie, you know. And just being off-leash at the trail is enough of a party for me!”
In an ideal world, I would not only know exactly which dishes I’m cooking, but would have prepared an entire rehearsal Christmas dinner already, expressly for the purpose of photographing and writing about it for this blog (excuse me while I guffaw).
For the past two years, the HH and I have shared an Indian feast at Christmastime with the CFO, who’s made the trek from Montreal. The CFO isn’t able to join us this year, and I have a feeling that the multi-course Indian buffet will also make itself scarce, at least for this year.
I do have a couple of great ideas for potential dishes I’ve been wanting to try (and about which I’ll post, post-holidays.) But what with the HH’s accident; frenzied shopping for a new car; a fire at the campus where I teach resulting in only TWO days to mark all my students’ exams and submit them; a last-minute invitation to appear on a local daytime TV show (which happened this very morning)–I haven’t yet decided exactly what we’ll be eating at the festive table. Throw in a couple of doctor’s appointments, a visit to the vet, a haircut and typical holiday-time social activities, and there has been precious little time to cook.
If you’re like me and still thinking about what to prepare, I thought I’d share this list of some of my favorite holiday-worthy recipes (many of these are not yet listed in the Recipe Index–updating it is one of my new year’s projects!).
All are ACD-friendly recipes (ie, gluten free, sugar free, dairy free, egg free, low glycemic) unless otherwise specified.
And to everyone who’s celebrating this time of year: have a wonderful holiday season!
Before I get to today’s recipe, it’s time to announce the winner of the Lucini Cinque e’ Cinque giveaway! Thanks to everyone who entered, and for your enthusiastic response to the product (and your enthusiasm for this week’s giveaway as well for a Cocoa Camino baking kit, running until next Monday)!
The winner of the Cinque mix, olive oil and pizza sauce is:
“I’ve been in a bit of a food rut lately — need new ideas. This looks like it might be just the thing to get me out of the rut.”
I do hope this is just the thing for you, Rogene! And congratulations. Please email me before the end of the week (at dietdessertdogsATgmailDOTcom) with your mailing address to claim your prize.
And now, for some soup:
For several years after I graduated university, I’d return to Windsor to visit with my former room mate and her husband. They’d gotten married straight out of school and had purchased a house almost immediately (a very grown-up thing to do, I thought, and entirely beyond the realm of my abilities at the time). During one visit, Roomie showed me her collection of (grown-up) china and silverware. Everything was stored in a breakfront in the dining room, with the dishes each encased in its own silk slipcover, like a miniature pillowcase sized specifically for the dish. The cases were stacked neatly on shelves, clearly never used. The silverware, likewise, remained in its original box–the forks, knives and spoons lined up like subjects in suspended animation, having never been disturbed from their slumber.
I suppose we all have “special occasion” items that we’re saving for some undetermined future. Most families own a set of fancy dishware–bone china, maybe, with perhaps a line of gold filligree looping around the scalloped edge of each plate–reserved for family reunions or holidays. Or maybe you treasure your “once in a lifetime” dress, the black Chanel sheath you nabbed for half price at the designer discount outlet, the one you adore but have never worn because you’re saving it for “that special date.”
We had “special occasion” furniture in our house when I was a kid, too, with couches sealed in plastic slipcovers just like Marie’s on Everybody Loves Raymond. My parents claimed the plastic was there to preserve the cream and white French Provincial sofas in pristine condition for when company arrived, but Mom and Dad never did take off the plastic, even when the house was full of people. It wasn’t until I was in my 30s and my parents were old enough that they no longer had much company over anyway, that the covers finally came off.
I’ve certainly been equally guilty of hoarding things I hold dear, only to discover when the time finally arrived that said item was tarnished (silver pie server), out of style (square-toed boots), moth-eaten (pure linen tablecloth), no longer my size (favorite mini skirt) or simply extinct (cassette tapes). You know the LeeAnn Womack song, “I Hope You Dance“? Even though I never particularly liked the song, I’ve been making a concerted effort lately to apply the message behind the lyrics. I want to actually use my beloved possessions, not just for rare occasions, but as often as possible. So I’m drinking tea out of antique cups and saucers, and juice out of champagne flutes, and using my Mom’s china (which I inherited) for our weekend dinners. (Oh, and I’m dancing, when I can, too.)
When I think of chestnuts, well, they always bring to mind those ”special occasion” items. Chestnuts are the kind of food we rarely see during the rest of the year but are ubiquitous during the holidays. In fact, I never gave them much thought at all until a few years ago, when The CFO came to visit. As a snack on the train, she brought with her a plastic bag of dried chestnuts. She loved the starchy, meaty taste and enjoyed munching on them as a regular part of her diet. No major holiday; just a desire for one of her favorite snack foods.
I must admit, I wasn’t entirely sold at first. My only previous encounter with chestnuts had been in the form of chestnut flour shortly after my ND commanded a complete overhaul of my lifelong eating habits, back in the 1990s. At the time, a pronouncement of “NO GLUTEN” seemed worse than solitary confinement. As someone who’d eaten wheat virtually every meal (sometimes it was pretty much the only ingredient in the entire meal, come to think of it), I was frantic to secure some replacements for my daily gluten fix. After some quick online research, I came across a recipe for chestnut flour pancakes.
Pancakes! Now, that sounded like something familiar, comforting and delicious. I went and got myself a bag of chestnut flour, mixed up a batch of pancakes using the flour in place of wheat, and dug in.
Pew! Bah! Bleh! Spitooey!
No, I would not say I was a big fan of chestnut-flour pancakes. (They would have been great to plug the holes between the bricks on our back wall, though. )
Needless to say, I was a bit reluctant to try this soup. But when I saw the recipe in this month’s Good Housekeeping, the photo was so alluring, the tureen brimming with a deeply golden, silky purée topped with a swirl of rich sour cream, I knew I had to try it. Besides, what was I waiting for?
It was no trouble at all to veganize the original, subbing vegetable broth for the chicken stock and my own homemade sour cream for the original dairy variety. It mixed up fairly quickly, as I sautéed the onions while the other ingredients baked, the kitchen awash in scents of cararmelized parsnip and smoky chestnut.
The final result was even better than I’d imagined. Thick, rich and pillowy smooth, the slight sweetness complemented by a woody undertone, as if the soup had simmered gently over a campfire.
In fact, I’d say this soup is so good it would transform any occasion into something special. So don’t save it for the holidays alone. Eat it any time, just because you want to and because it’s enchanting. Carpe Castanea!
Although I haven’t tried chestnuts on their own, I am guessing that this soup doesn’t deliver an overpowering chestnut flavor. Instead, the chestnuts seem to confer both richness and thickness to the soup, which is velvety smooth and irresistible.
10 ounces (275 g) roasted and peeled chestnuts (measure after peeling–about 25 fresh)
2-3 cups (480-720 ml) water, as needed to reach desired thickness
about 1/2 cup (120 ml) dairy-free sour cream (you can just buy it or make your own), optional
If you are using fresh chestnuts, as I did, preheat the oven to 350F (180C) and line two large rimmed baking sheets with parchment.
Use a very sharp knife to cut an “X” shape in the shells, just enough to pierce the outer layer but not open up the nut. Place in a single layer on one sheet and bake until the shells open up and curl away from the nuts, 30-40 minutes (I like mine a bit browned). Remove from oven and allow to cool completely, then peel off the outer shells with your fingers and coarsely chop the chestnuts. May be prepared a day ahead; store in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to one day. (Be sure to keep them refrigerated! The first time I attempted to make these, I left them on the counter at room temperature in a plastic ziploc bag. By the end of Day 2, they were growing mold.)
Bake the parsnips at the same time: drizzle with olive oil and toss to coat, then place on the other baking sheet and bake until browned and soft, about 45 minutes.
While the parsnip bakes and the chestnuts cool, heat the other 1 Tbsp (15 ml) olive oil in a large saucepot or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add the onion, potato and chopped chestnuts. Cook 2-3 minutes, or until the onion is golden, stirring frequently. Add the broth and water and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to low, cover, and simmer 20 minutes or until the vegetables are tender.
Transfer the soup, along with the parsnips, in batches to a blender and blend until velvety smooth and no lumps remain (be sure to guard against splatters as the soup is HOT!); or use an immersion blender. Transfer each batch to a large bowl and stir together to combine evenly once all the batches are blended and transferred. To serve, return the soup to the pot and heat until gently it is warmed through. If it’s too thick, add more water.
Ladle the soup into bowls and garnish with sour cream, if desired. Makes 12 appetizer or 6-8 regular servings. May be frozen.
Well, I suppose it had to happen eventually. . . winter has finally arrived in Toronto. *Sigh*. I really, really would love to live somewhere that I don’t have to don at least 4 layers of clothing (that would include torso, head, hands, and feet) in order just to walk out the door without permanently damaging my epidermis. To allow the dogs a mere 12 minutes of romping at the local baseball field (that was all I could stand of the chill), it took 15 minutes to get dressed and another 10 to peel off the top 3 layers when I got home. Dogs are lucky that way, aren’t they? Permanent fur coat; gloves not required. (“That may be true, Mum, and we love the cold, but you do have that opposable thumbs thing going on, which could definitely be perceived as an advantage.”)
Well, cold weather makes me think of soup. And soup on a winter’s day makes me think of my mother’s chicken soup, a Friday night ritual in our house throughout my childhood, even though my dad worked late every Friday and didn’t even stride through the door until we kids were already in pyjamas. Friday night was Chicken Soup Night.
And where do I come to parsnips from my mother’s soup, you might ask? Why, in the soup itself. The soup was begun early in the day, with Mom pulling out the largest stockpot in the house and filling it two-thirds full with water. First, she’d tie up a whole bunch of fresh dill with twine (or, in a pinch, white sewing thread) and toss it in; then she’d add whole vegetables: one peeled onion; three peeled carrots; three stalks of celery; and a huge, peeled parsnip. These were followed by hunks of chicken which simmered through most of the day, the flesh turning from pink to white to gray as it rose to the top of the pot, bobbing like the remnants of an airline catastrophe on the ocean, the heavy scent of chicken grease permeating the house.
Needless to say, I did not enjoy my mother’s chicken soup.
Of course, in those days, I had no idea that the seemingly anemic carrot my mother used was called “parsnip”; I thought it was actually named “pietroshkeh” (pee-ET-rosh-keh), which is what my parents both called it. (I also believed that the main character of my first children’s book–a tome I proudly read aloud, using my new skill of sounding out each and every letter–was called “Murse Rabbit,” until I was about 10. It was then that The Nurse informed me “Mrs” was actually an abbreviation for “Missus.” The humiliation!).
I still don’t know whether pietroshkeh is the Polish word (from my dad’s childhood in Poland) or the Russian word (from my mother’s ancestors), but I carried it with me until my late 20s, when someone served roasted parsnips to me at a holiday dinner and I asked what they were. Imagine my surprise when I realized I’d already been eating them–and hating them–my whole life!
Luckily, I adored the roots in their roasted form. Unlike the mushy, over-boiled parsnips of my mother’s soup, these actually tasted good. And they had a subtle sweetness about them, the outsides partially caramelized through roasting, flavors mingling with the aromas of rosemary and thyme. They were delicious! Who knew they could be used in other ways besides watery, grey, fatty chicken soup? Thus began a love affair with parnsips, and a quest to afford them their due.
I ate roasted parsnips, parsnips in faux mashed potatoes, or almond-crusted parsnips over the years, but I had never tried a baked good with parsnip. Then, one Saturday at the organic market where I sold muffins and other treats a few years ago, a colleague brought in parsnip loaf. Like a winter-pale version of its tanned carrot cousin, the parsnip loaf offered the same warming spices, slight sweetness and flecks of grated flesh distributed throughout. Indeed, you can substitute carrot here if you prefer, but the parsnip adds its own unique character to the loaf, an understated spiciness and sweet appeal that no other vegetable can provide.
Try these moist, flavorful quick breads, and I bet you’ll end up loving the lowly pietroshkeh, too.
Parsnip Mini Loaves or Muffins, with GF Option
A lovely, intensely flavored muffin for breakfast or an afternoon snack. The fruity flavors of orange and banana meld wonderfully, and the parsnip adds moisture and substance with just a hint of its earthy flavor.
Version I (contains gluten)**:
finely grated zest and juice of one large organic orange (wash before zesting)
1/2 cup (90 g) Sucanat or other unrefined evaporated cane juice
1 medium very ripe banana, mashed or puréed
1 large parsnip (about 9 ounces or 250g), grated on medium blade of your food processor or largest holes on a box grater
1/4 cup (60 ml) sunflower or other light-tasting oil, preferably organic
1-3/4 cups (260 g) light spelt flour
1 Tbsp (15 ml) baking powder
1/4 tsp (1 ml) baking soda
1/4 tsp (1 ml) fine sea salt
2 tsp (10 ml) cinnamon
1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) ground nutmeg
1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) ground ginger
Preheat oven to 350F (180C). Line 6 mini loaf pans or 9 muffin cups with paper liners, or spray with nonstick spray.
Pour the orange juice into a glass measuring cup and measure out 1/2 cup (120 ml). If your orange didn’t yield at least 1/2 cup (120 ml) liquid, add water to equal that amount.
Place the orange zest and juice in a medium bowl with the Sucanat, banana, parsnip and oil; mix well. Set aside to allow the Sucanat to dissolve somewhat.
In a large bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, nutmeg and ginger. Add the wet ingredients to the dry and stir just to blend (do not overmix!).
Using a large ice cream scoop or 1/3 cup (80 ml) measuring cup, scoop the batter into the prepared pans (they should be quite full). Bake for 30-35 minutes, until a tester inserted in the center loaf or muffin comes out clean. Cool 5 minutes before turning onto a rack to cool completely. May be frozen.
Version II (Gluten Free)**:
finely grated zest of one large organic orange (wash before zesting)
3/4 cup (180 ml) pure orange juice
1/2 cup (90 g) Sucanat or other unrefined evaporated cane juice
1 medium very ripe banana, mashed or puréed
1 large parsnip (about 9 ounces or 250g), grated on medium blade of your food processor or largest holes on a box grater
1 Tbsp (15 ml) finely grated flax seeds
2 tsp (10 ml) finely grated chia seeds
1/4 cup (60 ml) sunflower or other light-tasting oil, preferably organic
1 cup (150 g) All-purpose gluten-free flour (I used Bob’s Red Mill, but you can use your own mix if you prefer)
1/4 cup (30 g) coconut flour
1 Tbsp (15 ml) baking powder
1/4 tsp (1 ml) baking soda
1/4 tsp (1 ml) fine sea salt
2 tsp (10 ml) cinnamon
1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) ground nutmeg
1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) ground ginger
Preheat oven to 350F (180C). Line 6 mini loaf pans or 9 muffin cups with paper liners, or spray with nonstick spray.
In a medium bowl, place the orange zest, orange juice, Sucanat, banana, parsnip, flax seed, chia seed and oil; mix well, ensuring that the chia is well distributed and doesn’t clump. Set aside to allow the Sucanat to dissolve somewhat.
In a large bowl, sift together the all-purpose flour, coconut flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, nutmeg and ginger. Add the wet ingredients to the dry and stir just to blend (do not overmix!).
Using a large ice cream scoop or 1/3 cup (80 ml) measuring cup, scoop the batter into the prepared pans (they should be quite full). Bake for 30-35 minutes, until a tester inserted in the center loaf or muffin comes out clean. Cool 5 minutes before turning onto a rack to cool completely. May be frozen.
**NOTE: These are NOT ACD-friendly recipes (since they contain banana and Sucanat; some anti-candida diets even prohibit oranges. Sorry, my ACD cronies.)
[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).]
[Rutabaga "fries"--who'd have ever thought?]
I hadn’t intended to post another Flash in the Pan so soon after the chia pudding a while ago, but it’s been that kind of week over here at the DDD household. . . and all I’ve had time for are lightning-quick recipes.
No matter; these oven fries have quickly become a new little obsession. They’re a simple, speedy way to spruce up your more conventional oven fries, and a convenient means to use root veggies that you might not normally consider eating (to wit, rutabaga–in fact, this is the only way I’ve ever had that vegetable and actually liked it!). And with the crazy Canadian weather still throwing a few final chilly rainstorms our way, these are a great comfort food.
[Parsnip fries--they'll make you a fan of parsnips!]
You can use pretty much any root vegetables you fancy here, or mix up several in one batch for a tasty, higher-protein side dish.
[Sweet Potato fries--a classic!]
So far, we’ve had these with rutabaga, parsnips, and sweet potatoes, but I can envision all kinds of variations: regular spuds would be a perfect foil for a spicy, almondy crust; or how about your favorite squash, cut into fries? You could even bake up some cauliflower florets this way.
I’ll be back next time with a “real” recipe for some yummy burgers. . . AND an exciting book giveaway!
“Mum, we’d be happy eating pretty much any variation of these. . . or how about just giving us some of that almond butter coating?”
Almond-Crusted Root Vegetable Oven “Fries”
This recipe couldn’t be simpler. The only caveat is to be sure to bake the fries long enough, so that the coating becomes somewhat crispy; this isn’t the time for mushy, just-done fries. When properly baked, the almond coating crisps up nicely, the fries themselves begin to caramelize and sweeten, and the whole package is entirely irresistible.
1 medium rutabaga, 3 medium parsnips, 2 medium sweet potatoes, or other root vegetables of your choice, peeled and cut into thin fry-like strips (or use a combination of those listed)
3 Tbsp (45 ml) smooth natural almond butter
1 Tbsp (15 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) fine sea salt
other spices of your choice: garlic salt, curry powder, cumin, garam masala, Chinese 5 spice powder, etc. (about 1 tsp/5 ml total)
Preheat oven to 400F (200C). Line a large baking tray with parchment paper, or spray with nonstick spray.
Place the “fries” in a large bowl. In a small bowl, combine the almond butter, oil, and spices. Drizzle the coating over the fries, and toss the mixture with a large spoon (or even better, your hands) until they are all evenly coated.
Line the fries up on the cookie sheet in a single layer. Bake 35-50 minutes (depending on thickness of your fries), until the coating is browned and a bit crispy, and the fries are fully cooked. Makes 3-4 servings. Will keep, refrigerated, up to 3 days.
I had intended a lovely post today, in honor of the upcoming Thanksgiving long weekend to the south of us. But time constraints (read: massive, unwieldly pile of essays and assignments to mark) have prevented me from following through. So I’ll just have to wait till the next batch of holidays in December to post about some new, frost-and-snow inspired, treats.
Instead, I thought I’d pull together a few recipes from previous posts that are suitably festive for a holiday table, or the breakfast table the following day (I’ve also got a few detox recipes on the blog–I’ll let you seek those out yourselves, as required). Most of these are fairly quick to make as well, as long as you’ve got the ingredients on hand.
Hope everyone enjoys some togetherness with friends and family, great food, and a bit of time to relax and play.
See you after the holiday!
“Mum, will Elsie be able to play again after the holiday? I mean, it’s just so boring with her out of commission. . . ”
Years ago (oops, make that a decade), during the tumultuous year after my starter marriage dissolved, I lived with my friend Gemini I. As two single thirty-somethings interested in social events or activities that might bring us into contact with eligible men, we decided to try out some cooking classes (what were we thinking? We might as well have looked for guys in the pantyhose department at Macy’s. . . oh, wait a sec: apparently, in Australia, that’s exactly where you might meet some guys these days).
In any case, we signed up for one series run by a well-heeled Toronto chatelaine who’d attended Le Cordon Bleu (it was only a weekend seminar, but she never told us that) and decided to teach classes out of her home. It took just one evening, and I was hooked; after that, Gemini I and I attended about half a dozen more classes as well. It’s not that I actually learned very much; and the food, while fine, wasn’t the most spectacular I’d had, either. But oh, what a house!
Oh my, how I envied her house. Situated beside a thickly forested ravine on a cul-de-sac in the tony Rosedale area, Ms. Culinati’s residence was a massive, ivy-covered, stone-and-brick Tudor style mansion of at least 5,000 square feet, almost more like a museum than a home. At over 100 years old, the building’s interior had been completely renovated and rendered ultra-modern inside. The setup was perfect for cooking classes: after passing beneath the towering entryway, we participants filed across the open-concept first floor (tiled in marble), toward a state-of-the-art kitchen just off the entrance. There were six cushy stools lined up against one side of a wide, grey and black granite peninsula, which also divided the room and separated us from the cooking area.
Ms. Cordon Bleu held forth on the opposite side of the counter behind the built-in stainless steel stovetop, prepping ingredients and chattering about the best shop in Paris to buy Le Creuset, the plumpest, most perfect berries at All the Best on Summerhill (even back then, I recall that a pint–about 500 ml.–of strawberries cost over $4.00 at that store), or how she flew to New York last weekend to pick up the very best fleur de sel(because really, you simply couldn’t use anything less).
Despite the fact that our personal orbits existed in completely different universes, I still enjoyed the recipes, the skillfully selected wines that accompanied them, and the stolen glances around the rest of the house as I ostensibly attended to our cooking. And, of course, it was always rewarding to have an evening out with Gemini I.
Most of the dishes I encountered in those classes, I will never make again, either because they contain ingredients I no longer eat, or because they contain ingredients far too extravagant for everyday consumption (last I heard, her courses had morphed into all-out travel tours, wherein participants flew to Tuscany for a week to cook and live together in a villa. Who are these people, and how can I be written into the will? Just asking).
Still, almost despite herself, in one class Ms. C.B. provided us with this recipe for Curried Root Vegetable Chowder with Dumplings. And while the original soup contained chicken broth, butter and wheat flour, it was a cinch to convert.
I’ve loved this chowder since the first time I slurped it back in the 1990s. It’s one of the easiest soups you’ll ever make (and while the dumplings are marvelous and do elevate the broth an echelon, you can just as easily forego the sophistication, toss in some elbow pasta, and happily spoon this up for a quick weekday dinner). Once the veggies are chopped, it’s a matter of a quick sauté, a splash of prepared broth, and a sprinkling of ONE spice: mild curry powder. It also makes use of an underused, but very tasty, root veggie: celery root.
It sounds almost too simple, I know; but believe me, the result will astonish you. The varying levels of sweetness from the different roots, along with the whisper of curry, combine for a soothing, warming and entirely captivating dish. This is one soup you’ll want to stay at home for. In fact, it’s the perfect soup to charm those eligible guys–that is, once you find them.
This month’s No Croutons Required is asking for soups or salads with pasta. I’m hoping these dumplings count. The event was started by Lisa and Holler and is this month being hosted by Holler.
Curried Root Vegetable Chowder with Dumplings
(adapted from a very old recipe from The Art of Food Cooking School)
This is the perfect soup to serve to guests; the dumplings elevate this to a fancier level, yet the soup is down to earth and very appealing. For a gluten-free option, omit the dumplings or use your favorite dumpling recipe with GF flour.
2 Tbsp. (30 ml.) extra virgin olive oil
1 small onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
1-1/2 tsp. (7.5 ml.) mild curry powder
4 cups vegetable broth
2 medium carrots, peeled, halved and cut into 1/2-inch (1 cm) pieces
2 large parsnips, peeled, thick end halved lengthwise, and cut into 1/2 inch (1 cm.) pieces
1 small celery root (celeriac), trimmed, peeled and cut into 1/4 inch (1/2 cm) cubes
1 medium sweet potato (yam), peeled and cut into 1/2 inch (1 cm.) cubes
1 tsp. (5 ml.) sea salt, if broth is unsalted
freshly chopped cilantro, for garnish
Dumplings:
1 cup (140 g.) spelt flour
1-1/2 tsp. (7.5 ml.) baking powder
1/2 tsp. (2.5 ml.) sea salt
1/2 tsp. (2.5 ml.) nutmeg
2 Tbsp. (30 ml.) cold coconut oil
1/4 cup (60 ml.) currants
5-6 Tbsp. (75-90 ml.) unsweetened soymilk or almond milk
To make the soup, heat the oil in a large pot or dutch oven over medium heat. Add the onion and cook for 3 mintues. Add the garlic and curry powder and cook for another minute or so.
Stir in the broth, carrots and parsnips. Bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer. Cover and simmer for 10 minutes. Stir in the celery root and sweet potato and cook for 10 more minutes.
Meanwhile, make the dumplings: In a medium bowl, sift the flour, baking powder, salt and nutmeg. Rub in the coconut oil (pinch the mixture between your thumb and fingers repeatedly) until the mixutre resembles a coarse meal. Add currants and toss to coat. Add milk and stir with a fork until the mixture comes together.
Season the broth with salt and pepper to taste. Then roll bits of the dumpling dough (about a tablespoon for each) into balls and place on top of the simmering broth. Cover and cook without disturbing for 15 minutes. Remove the cover and divide the soup into 4 bowls [I've found it makes much more than this]. Garnish with cilantro and serve. May be frozen.
It seems like another lifetime now, but the year after my starter marriage ended, I lived in a townhouse with my dear friend Gemini I. Shortly after the furniture was placed and the boxes unpacked, we began to negotiate the rules of housework, grocery shopping, and TV usage when we got to chatting about food. I remember asking, “Do you like cous cous?” (In those days, I ate it all the time, though it’s pretty much verboten now since I don’t eat wheat). I was taken aback by her answer, which, at the time, I found a little odd.
“Well, I suppose I do,” she responded. “There are times when I’ll cook it every day for two weeks, but then I might not touch it or even think of it for 8 or 9 months.” I couldn’t imagine ignoring a food I actually enjoyed for that long (and chocolate? Well, that one would be calculated in hours–nay, minutes–rather than days or weeks).
These days, though, I understand exactly what she meant. When one maintains a food blog, the quest for the novel and atypical dish never ends. This pursuit sometimes leaves old favorites languishing in the dust–or at the back of the cupboard (or both, in the case of our cupboard). On the other hand, I might whip up something new from a recipe I found on another blog, and enjoy it so much that the HH and I will feast on said dish several times during the next week. And the following week. In fact, we might just consume that comestible every second or third day for two to three weeks (which does provide several useful photo-ops, after all)–and then dump it unceremoniously, just as Chaser dumps her squeaky ball (ad nauseum, I might add) at my feet. Once I’ve gotten my fill, I move on, seeking the next culinary encounter.
Well, I’m sure I’ve mentioned before that I often find myself with a surplus of overripe pears in the house, as I did a couple of evenings ago. Since the HH refuses to share in the burden of eating fruit (hey! That could be the title of Michael Pollan’s next tome: The Burden of Eating Fruit: An Exposition on Overripe Organic Produce), I’m always on the lookout for tasty recipes with pears, before they become too soft and squishy, too oozy, too yellow-flecked-with-brown. Our freezer is already bursting with chopped, frozen pears, so I needed to cook up these babies–and fast.
It was then I remembered an erstwhile favorite, one that we consumed for a spell and then promptly forgot. It’s from one of my favorite cookbooks, Green by Flip Shelton. From what I understand, Shelton is kind of like an Aussie Rachael Ray, and isn’t taken very seriously as a chef (what’s that bogan doing cooking biscuits on the barbie? What a dag! Well, she’s still ace to me. G’day!). The recipe sounds like an incongruous combination of ingredients (though not as incongruous as radishes, olives and grapefruit), mixing pear and parsnip with sautéed leeks, but the final result is incredibly tasty. Fragrant, slightly sweet from the pears and slightly peppery from the parsnip, with a velvety smooth, light texture. Yum-O!
And since this soup features both fruit and, well, soup, I’m submitting it to this months’ No Croutons Required, a monthly event hosted alternately by Holler (this month) and Lisa, which asks us to cook up either a salad or soup with fruit as a main ingredient.
Oh, and before I sign off, I really must thank all of you for being so understanding and so polite. I mean, it’s painfully evident that I was a total bust at the ACD this time round (okay, maybe not a TOTAL bust–I did last almost 2 weeks). And yet you’ve all had the diplomacy and tact not to mention it! For that, I am grateful.
And while I’ve decided this may not have been the best time to embark on an even more restrictive diet (school starting up, cold weather coming, cookbook calling), I do still try to eat foods that would fit within the parameters of the diet as often as possible, perhaps minus one or two ingredients. Well, turns out this fantastic soup could easily qualify as an anti-candida meal, even without trying (if you’re following the version that permits non-tropical fruits, that is). It’s also a very simple, very nourishing concoction that offers fabulous fiber from the pears, a hit of extra calcium from the parsnips and a satisfying early autumn tummy-warming. You may even decide to make it again and again–at least, for a couple of weeks or so.
It may not be entirely photogenic, but this easy, quick recipe produces a satisfying soup. The combination of slightly sweet, slightly peppery, and slightly creamy works beautifully here.
2 Tbsp. (30 ml.) olive oil
2 large pears, peeled and chopped
2 large parsnips, peeled and chopped
1 leek, chopped (white and light green parts only)
2 pints (1 liter) vegetable stock [I've even used the powder in a pinch]
sea salt and crushed black pepper, to taste
Warm the oil over low heat in a heavy-based saucepan. Sweat the pears, parsnips, and leek, stirring often, for about 15 minutes, or until they start to soften. (Basically, you want them soft but not brown). I covered the pot to help speed this process.
Add the stock and bring to the boil. Reduce heat and simmer for 15 minutes, until the ingredients are soft.
Remove from the heat and allow to cool slightly before blending with an immersion blender; or pour into a regular blender in batches and purée. Season to taste with salt and pepper, and serve hot. The recipe says this serves two, but I’ve found it’s more like 4 servings. May be frozen.
[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."]
I was seduced by Mark Bittman last week.
Now, hold on a minute–before you go and call the authorities, I should clarify: I’ve never even met the man. I was speaking in the Platonic sense; it was more the ideal of Mark Bittman that seduced me.
Truth be told, I was already harboring a little crush. You see, a while back when Bittman’s new tome, How to Cook Everything Vegetarian first hit the cookbook scene, the entire blogosphere (and pretty much any place else people consume food) was abuzz about it. That book was the latest, greatest thing to hit our kitchens! I had previously whiled away about an hour leafing through Bittman’s earlier oeuvre, How to Cook Everything, during one of my Sunday-morning bookstore browses with the HH. That day, I lingered between “Cookbooks: General” and “Cookbooks: Heart Healthy” for ages, slowly caressing the pages and batting my eyelashes longingly at every enchanting chapter. I really couldn’t take my eyes off it.
In the end, I gave myself over to the enticing reviews and alluring recommendations, dove right in and ordered the darn thing straightaway, sight unseen, from amazon.ca. I mean, how could I not be seduced?
As I discovered during our first meeting (once the book arrived in the mail), it is a very attractive volume (well, more like the entire encyclopedia, actually, at 996 pages long). The fresh lollipop-lime cover conveys a light, whimsical feel, while the choice to forgo photos (there are detailed line drawings) and expanses of text lend more a of a Joy of Cooking vibe. As many reviewers have remarked, it is a terrific, all-encompassing introduction to the basics of vegetarian cooking: with lengthy lists and detailed instructions, it covers a huge array of basic ingredients, basic methods and basic recipes. But would this be sufficient to sustain a relationship? Would the recipes have enduring appeal? And were they recipes I would actually use and enjoy over the long term?
Well, almost immediately, I started having mixed feelings. Because I’m already familiar with vegetarian basics and techniques, I wasn’t much interested in the generic versions of dishes (leek and potato soup, caramelized onions, refried beans, or scrambled tofu.) However, it was the seemingly endless variaitions on each theme ( eleven rubs and 17 sauces for grilled tofu; or 15 toppings for baked potatoes), as well as some of the more unusual or ingenious combinations, that intrigued me. Recipes such as Green Tea Broth with Udon Noodles, Nori Chips, Beets with Pistachio Butter, Quinoa and Parsnip Rösti or Chickpea Fondue each scored sticky-note bookmarks, denoting plans for a future kitchen rendezvous.
One major beef (if I may use the term) I had about the book, however, was its treatment of desserts: there isn’t a single vegan baked good in all 996 pages. The more indulgent, original dessert recipes (such as Chewy Almond Cherry Cookies, Caramel Walnut Bars, or Boozy Apple Cake) all contain eggs, cream or butter; the vegan desserts, on the other hand, are entirely uninspired offerings like No-Bake Granola Bars (hmm, bet they’re crunchy, too); jellies, or rice pudding. Maybe I’ll need to hold out for How to Cook Everything Vegan for those treats.
The first tête-à-tête with my new beau was a heated encounter in which I cooked Millet Mash, a combination of millet simmered with cauliflower florets, then puréed with roasted garlic to mimic mashed potatoes. Unfortunately, the resultant side dish, while fairly tasty, was a wee bit watery, slightly bland, and almost airy (you can see what it looked like as a side dish to a recent BBQ tempeh I made, at left–tempeh recipe to follow in the near future). It wasn’t bad, don’t get me wrong; but sparks didn’t fly.
When this first date didn’t quite live up to my expectations, I decided to seek my own satisfaction in the kitchen (hey, I’m an independent feminist) and created an original version of mock mashed potatoes. As I was still following the Grain Drain (grain-free detox diet) at the time, I opted for a slightly different blend of ingredients.
I suspected that boiling the cauliflower with the millet had produced those waterlogged florets, so I roasted them this time. I also discovered one forlorn parsnip in the crisper and roasted it as well, along with 2 cloves of garlic. Finally, I puréed the resultant mash with some cooked white beans, and ended up with a mixture that was thick, creamy, and richer both in color and flavor than the original combo. Topped with a sprinkling of gomashio, this was truly an irresistible dish.
Call me fickle, but I fell in love with that cauliflower-parsnip mash on the spot. I scooped up two servings the first night, then returned for more mash passion the next. And then I cooked it up once more three days after that.
Another reason to love this dish: it’s actually good for you. Cauliflower is a little-known source of vitamin C (one cup provides 91.5% of the daily requirement!) and parsnips kick in the remainder. In addition, the white beans I used (Great Northern Beans) are an excellent source of calcium, a mineral I’m seeking these days. All in all, this was a fabulous dish–and incredibly easy.
As for Bittman, I haven’t broken it off entirely, though I’ll admit the infatuation for my acid-green beau may have abated just a little. Our short-lived fling wasn’t quite as disappointing as the one with Rocker Guy (he of the black leather pants), but for me, How to Cook Everything Vegetarian was a bit of a tease in the recipe department; it just didn’t provide enough exciting, novel, or foolproof recipes to snag my eternal devotion.
Despite our rocky beginning, I’m sure we’ll remain good friends. This is still the kind of book I can rely on as a solid kitchen companion, full of serious instructions, reliable tips and honest information. At the same time, I’m keeping one eye open for the next recipe-filled rake that will really take my breath away.
Oh, and speaking of true loves. . . Happy Father’s Day to all the loving dads out there (“Yes, we second that, Dad!“)
Cauliflower,Parsnip and Bean Mash with Gomashio
This recipe is easy to throw together and produces a smooth, comforting and delicious side dish. While it does need take time to roast, you can use the extra half hour to attend to other matters, like reading some of the 996 pages in How to Cook Everything Vegetarian.
1/2 large head cauliflower, washed, trimmed, and cut in florets
1 large parsnip, peeled and cut into french-fry sized wedges
2 large garlic cloves, still in papery skins
3/4 cup cooked white beans (Great Northern or navy)
2-3 Tbsp. (30-45 ml.) extra virgin olive oil, divided
Preheat oven to 400 F (200 C). In a large rectangular pan (a lasagna pan works nicely for this), toss the cauliflower and parsnip with the olive oil (no need to add salt, as the mixture will be covered in gomashio later). Spread the mixture evenly in the pan, keeping it in a single layer as much as possible. Place the garlic cloves in the pan.
Bake uncovered for 30-40 minutes, until all the vegetables are very soft and are golden brown in spots. Remove from pan and allow to cool for about 10 minutes (enough to handle without burning your fingers).
Peel the garlic cloves and place the soft, roasted garlic in a food processor with the other vegetables and any oil that’s pooled in the pan (there may not be any; that’s fine) along with the beans. Process (in batches, if necessary), until you have a thick, smooth mixture (if the mixture is too dry, add the extra olive oil at this point).
Scrape the mixture into a bowl and sprinkle with gomashio and freshly ground pepper, if desired. Serve immediately. Makes 4-6 servings.
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