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Just like Anna Karenina’s unhappy families, everyone deals with illness in her or his own way.
The HH, for instance, when struck with a cold or flu, takes to his (ie, our) bed for two days or so. He doesn’t talk; he doesn’t watch TV; he doesn’t eat; he barely uses the bathroom. Then, after the magical 48-hour interval, he emerges from the room like someone who’s just attended a premiere screening of Star Wars: still a little dazed, eyes not quite yet adjusted to the light, but somehow energized and ready to get back into the regular world.
I, on the other hand, rarely if ever spend time in bed during the day (no, no, I didn’t mean it that way, silly! I’m talking about when I’m sick). Instead, I stumble about and manage to function at sub-optimal levels for as many days as it takes to recover. . . usually the better part of two weeks. Then, one day, I realize that the symptoms are gone–no more pile of soggy tissues beside the bed, no more abandoned cups of tea all over the house, no more tickle at the back of the throat, no more raw, throbbing red proboscis.
Similarly, I think that people who recuperate from illness crave unique foods as well.
When I was 16, I caught chicken pox from the CFO. (Believe me, chicken pox is intended as a childhood disease for a reason; what is usually mild and short-term discomfort for a ten year-old can progress to a full blown health crisis for a teen or adult). Besides the initial alarm and teenaged angst I felt during the first two days (when I assumed those little pustules were zits rather than pox), I also became incredibly enervated and developed a high (104F or 40C) fever before an insanity-inducing itch enveloped my entire body for about ten days. I recall spending hours hunched in the bathtub, attempting to submerge myself (face included) under the lukewarm water into which was dumped an entire box of baking soda. If it hadn’t been a drowning risk, I probably would have slept in that tub.
When I finally began to regain some strength, my mom asked what I wanted to eat.
“I think I’d like some. . . cottage cheese and canned pears.”
Cottage cheese? And canned pears?? Neither of these was a favored food; I almost never ate canned anything. Still, my body must have known what it needed. Perhaps there was sodium in the pears to replenish what I’d lost in bodily fluids by sweating so much. Or maybe my adolescent self still required some protein and calcium. Whatever the reason, it did the trick, and I began to get better.
This past week, as I finally emerged from the quagmire of a heinous virus (not swine flu, according to my doctor), I began to yearn for real food, something other than tea, or broth, or a healing smoothie.
“Ess goo suh-er” I said to the HH. (I lost my voice after the first few days, and it still hasn’t quite come back, unfortunately.)
“Huh?” the HH replied.
“Let’s cook supper,” I whispered. “How about lentil rissoles?”
“Huh?” the HH replied. (Oh, he had heard me this time; but he had no idea what a “rissole” was).
Like so many food bloggers, my favorite reading material when I have a few minutes of downtime is a good cookbook. In general, I flip through any new recipe book as soon as I get it home, marking favored recipes with tabs made from torn Post-It notes. Some books end up with just a few tabs, lonely markers like flags left behind on the surface of the moon, while others are graced with tabs on almost every page, leaving a fringe of sticky notes across the book’s edge.
This recipe for lentil rissoles is one I picked out over a year ago, when I first flipped through Homestyle Vegetarian, a great find at a bookstore remainder bin. Basically, a rissole is a patty or burger that’s been coated in breadcrumbs and deep fried. I decided to nix the coating/frying and cook these up as a simple yet flavorful burger. Besides being delicious, these lovelies boast a full 24 grams of protein per serving (2 rissoles).
In about 30 minutes (by then I was too hungry to refrigerate them as directed before cooking–but I think it would have helped), we had a satisfying meal of rissoles and a simple green salad on the table. The end result was slightly disappointing in texture (probably my fault for not refrigerating them first), with a soft and moist interior much like refried beans. As a result, the patties tended to break up as I transferred them from pan to plate. (I’m guessing that a Tbsp/15 ml finely ground flax added to the raw mixture would help considerably, or substituting a glutenous rather than gluten-free bread for the crumbs). But the taste was outstanding.
Not at all spicy, with just a whisper of cumin, the burgers were toothsome and even meaty. While my habitual method with burgers is to blend everything to a homogenous smoothness, in this case I followed the original recipe and made patties with distinct chunks of carrot and whole peas, which provided bursts of slightly sweet, intense flavor in each bite. Beauty!
The HH proclaimed these a huge success and happily ate two. We had ours plain, but because of their mild flavor, I bet these would be stellar with a chutney or even a few slices of avocado and a dollop of salsa. Still, that’s just how I’d eat them. I imagine everyone else will deal with the burger in her or his own way, of course.
Lentil Rissoles
adapted from Homestyle Vegetarian
These patties are perfect for an everyday dinner, and would be wonderful jazzed up with an array of toppings and served in a toasted bun.
1 Tbsp (15 ml) extra virgin olive oil
1 large onion, finely chopped
2 large cloves garlic, finely chopped
2 tsp (10 ml) ground cumin
1 tsp (5 ml) ground coriander
2 cups (480 ml) vegetable broth or stock
1 medium carrot, finely diced
1 cup (250 g) red lentils, picked over and washed
1-1/2 cups (120 g) fresh whole grain breadcrumbs (I used millet-quinoa bread, but I think a spelt or whole wheat would actually work better here)
2/3 cup (60 g) walnuts, finely chopped (I ground mine in the food processor)
1/2 cup (90 g) frozen peas
3 Tbsp (45 ml) chopped flat leaf parsley or cilantro
Heat the oil in a large pot or dutch oven. Cook the onion, garlic, cumin and coriander over medium heat for 2 minutes, or until the onion has softened. Stir in the carrot, lentils and broth. Slowly bring to the boil, then reduce the heat to low and simmer, covered, for about 30 minutes, or until the lentils are cooked and pulpy, stirring frequently to stop them from sticking and scorching. Remove the lid during the last 10 minutes to evaporate any remaining liquid. The mixture should be fairly mushy and there should be no liquid visible on the bottom of the pot after you run a spatula across it.
Transfer the mixture to a large bowl and cool for 10 minutes. Stir in the breadcrumbs, walnuts, peas, and parsley. Form into eight 3-1/2 inch (8 cm) round rissoles. Cover and refrigerate for 30 minutes, or until they are firm (this is the step I skipped–I would advise doing it).
Spray a nonstick frypan with olive oil spray and heat over medium heat. Cook the rissoles about 4 minutes on each side, until the outsides are browned and crispy and they are heated through. Makes 8 rissoles. May be frozen.
Last Year at this Time: Barley and Hazelnut Salad
© 2009 Diet, Dessert and Dogs
[I thought it would be fun to run a little series over here at DDD: I'll profile one one of my favorite foods, or a food that I've recently discovered and enjoyed, over several days. For this third entry, I'm focusing on Avocados. The series is presented on an occasional (and entirely arbitrary) basis, before I move on to the next lucky comestible. ]
Since today was the first Sunday following my Total Health course (and I promise–that’s the last time I’ll mention it!), I realized it was time to resume my regular Progress Tracker entries.
It’s been nine whole weeks since I had a regular Sunday weigh-in, so this morning, I donned my sweats and and finally returned to the workout club (Well, hi again, Elderly Gentleman Who Always Wears Black Knee Socks! I’m back, Burly Guy Who Stares at Women’s Breasts Between Sets! I actually missed you, Septuagenarian Couple with the Matching T-Shirts!).
After completing various stretches and weights, I performed the official post-course, ritual weigh in. And the result? After NINE WEEKS of eating healthfully and stepping up my exercise routine (literally–I’ve doubled the amount of walking I do each day since the osteopenia diagnosis), I lost. . . . are you ready for it? Okay, here goes. . . . I lost. . . . FOUR POUNDS.
Yep, four. Quatre. 4. Vier. Quattro. IV. Tessera. FOUR!!!! In nine weeks.
Lovely, no? That’s just under half pound a week. Okay, I suppose that’s not awful considering that the goal of the course was not to lose weight so much as to learn about healthy eating and to undergo an attitude adjustment in that area. During the course, I consumed just as much (healthy) food as I wanted to and never deprived myself in any way (except during the cleanse week, obviously). What this means is that I am now exactly back where I started when I began this blog–with 40 pounds to lose to reach my goal. And while I do feel better since taking the course, that’s simply not acceptable. Nope.
And so. . . I’ve decided to take up the challenge offered by Gizmar from Equal Opportunity Kitchen, who wrote in her recent comment: “Ok, I’m throwing down the gauntlet – I want to lose some weight – I challenge you to a slim down!!!” Giz, you’re on! Ah, but how much weight? And in what time period? I will contact you so we can work out the details. But for now, I’ve decided, it’s time to get serious! (Again). Watch out, excess avoirdupois! Take a hike, jiggly thighs! Run for the hills, cellulite! I am on a mission.
* Sigh. *
(Okay, end of weight rant. We now return to this week’s regularly scheduled Lucky Comestible.)
One thing I realized while on my cleanse week is that I don’t eat nearly as many legumes as I should. Sure, if you consider peanut butter and carob, I suppose there’s a regular intake, but in general, my diet is sorely lacking.
As a child, the only beans I was ever served were the canned variety. Heinz Baked Beans made a quick and yummy dinner, just on their own. (Of course, my mother bought the “in tomato sauce” flavor so she wouldn’t have to deal with that one pasty, white, slimy chunk of pork fat that always rose to the top of the can. A few years ago, the HH and I took a course called Mini Med School at the University of Toronto. One evening, we were led down winding, clandestine hallways through an unmarked door into the actual anatomy lab, where we examined formaldehyde-infused hunks of human limbs, their outer layers peeled away to expose the muscles and bones underneath. One thigh had a rectangular chunk of flesh carved out, the cutout placed neatly on the counter beside it like a rubber bathtub stopper. Well, that little cube of pork fat looked just like the rectangular hunk of thigh. Good move, Mom.)
When I moved into my very first apartment the summer before my Master’s program began, my father’s housewarming gift to me was a smoked ham. (Not so strange if you consider that he owned a butcher shop–what else would he give me?). With the help of my trusty Joy of Cooking, I ended up making split pea and ham soup (even then, I couldn’t stomach the idea of an entire piece of ham on its own). I had just started dating my first true love a couple of weeks earlier (hey, Spaghetti Ears! How’s tricks?) and he, along with his two room mates, kindly relieved me of any superfluous soup–which, as it turned out, was pretty much all of it.
It’s not that I don’t enjoy bean dishes, either. It’s just that I never really think to make them. In more recent years, I’ve amassed a fairly reliable roster of bean recipes that I use on a rotating basis. There’s hummus, of course, but also sundried tomato hummus and roasted garlic hummus. Oh, and I can’t forget white bean hummus or fava bean hummus or even no-bean hummus (which, come to think of it, doesn’t really belong in the “dishes with beans” category, does it?). The HH and I also enjoy lentil-spaghetti sauce about twice a year, as well as my version of Tuscan baked beans (with olive oil and sage) and a classic three-bean salad in the summertime. Other than that, though, it’s pretty much hummus all around.
Well, I decided it was time to create something new and interesting with legumes. In keeping with the focus on avocado, I naturally gravitated toward the green legumes–or, more correctly, “legume”: lentils. Besides being one of the quickest to cook (they’re done in only 25 minutes, with no soaking required), lentils also provide a substantial contribution to your daily mineral requirements. In addition, they’re extremely high in fiber (both soluble and insoluble, important for healthy cholesterol levels), and they’re known to help keep blood sugar levels steady. Oh, and they taste really good!
I seized the green theme and just ran with it (okay, I kind of “speed-walked” with it), throwing pistachios into the mix as well. In these patties, the avocado acts as an egg substitute, while the nuts and beans work in tandem to provide a complete protein. While they’re not overly “meaty” in texture (the outside is crispy while the inside remains soft), these burgers are great either baked or fried, and would probably make a tasty loaf as well. Just for fun (and because I’m weird that way), I baked half the recipe and browned the other half in a frypan. I have to say that I actually preferred the baked version, which also held its shape better.
These patties are a great way to subtly add more legumes to your diet. And if you happen to be watching your weight–well, as it turns out, they’re pretty low-cal, too (about 150 calories each patty). Shall we start with these for dinner, Giz?
Lentil Pistachio Patties
These substantial patties offer a full-bodied flavor with a wonderful protein content, courtesy of the lentils and pistachios. The trio of avocado, olive oil, and pistachio adds richness and a healthy dose of heart-healthy monounsaturated fats.
1/2 cup (60 g.) shelled natural pistachios
1 medium carrot, trimmed and cut into chunks
1 medium onion, peeled and cut into quarters
2 cloves garlic, roughly chopped
2-1/4 (560 ml.) cups cooked green lentils (about 1 cup dry)
2 small ripe Hass avocados (300-320 g. unpeeled), peeled, pitted and cut into quarters
1/4 cup (60 ml.) ground flax seeds
2 Tbsp. (30 ml.) extra virgin olive oil
1 Tbsp. (15 ml.) tamari soy sauce
1/2 tsp. (2.5 ml.) ground coriander
1 tsp. (5 ml.) ground cumin
1/2 tsp. (2.5 ml.) sea salt
2/3 cup (160 ml.) old-fashioned rolled oats (not instant)
If you’ll be baking the patties rather than frying them, preheat oven to 375F (190 C). Line a baking sheet with parchment or spray with nonstick spray.
In the bowl of a food processor, whir the pistachios until coarsely chopped. Add the carrot, onion, garlic, and cooked lentils, and process until you have a fairly smooth purée. Add the remaining ingredients except for oats and process to combine well.
Turn the mixture into a large bowl and stir in the oats. Allow to sit for 5 minutes.
If you’ll be frying the patties, preheat a nonstick frypan over medium heat.
Scoop about 1/3 cup (80 ml.) of the mixture per patty.
If frying: Place the patties in the frypan and flatten slightly. Cook 4-6 minutes per side, until deep golden brown. Gently remove to a platter or place in hamburger buns with desired toppings.
If baking: Place the patties on the baking sheet and flatten slightly. Bake in preheated oven 30-40 minutes, until deep golden brown. If desired, flip the patties over about halfway through baking (though this isn’t absolutely necessary).
Serving suggestions: lettuce, tomato and hummus; sliced red onion, ketchup, and a sprinkling of nutritional yeast; or lettuce, chutney and mustard.
Makes about 12 patties. These may be stored tightly wrapped in the fridge up to 4 days (they firm up even more after the first day). May be frozen up to 3 months.
Other posts in this series:
Years ago, I had the pleasure of teaching for three semesters at Toronto’s renowned Ontario College of Art and Design (affectionately known as OCAD–or, when I taught there back in the Paleolithic, pre-”Design” era, simply “OCA”). I loved teaching at a place so much the antithesis of the college I’m now at, with its focus on technology, science and computers (not, as Jerry might say, that there’s anything wrong with that).
But as someone who’s drawn to art in all its iterations–and cake decorating, as we’ve seen in recent years, is also a bona fide art–and considering I find creativity in any form pretty much irresistible (at times to my detriment–to wit, three months with Rocker Guy*), I had a blast at OCA.
The students I taught at OCA were often just as embellished as their canvases, some with tatoos adorning every exposed patch of flesh, others with rainbow-striped hair in asymetrical spikes; some with handcrafted jewelry dangling from neck, waist, or ankles, and others bedecked in outfits so bohemian they practically carried their own passports. The students were also eccentric in the way only artists can be eccentric, asking questions and writing essays that, precisely because they were “out there,” elicited my utmost affection.
During those years, I had the great fortune to meet Morris, a faculty member who took me under his wing and later became a dear friend. Sweet, erudite, and the very embodiment of integrity, Morris helped me navigate the otherworldy campus politics and academic wranglings that were about as intelligible to me as a Cubist landscape. And because he was also a vegetarian, Morris introduced me to one of my favorite vegetarian restaurants in the city–and one I haven’t been to since I left OCA.
In the heart of Toronto’s downtown shopping strip, Le Commensal peeks unassumingly from the ground floor entrance of a towering office building. Inside, this Montreal import offers a huge, buffet-style, culinary Disneyland for vegans. Glass cases overflow with platters of every conceivable delectation from colorful, glistening salads to grain pilafs to an ever-shifting assortment of seitan stews, skewers, casseroles, or steaks. And it attracts customers with all dietary preferences, not just the crunchy-granola set.
I can clearly remember one of the first lunches Morris and I shared there. While he attempted to explain the concept of “artist’s statement” to me, I chowed on a plate of roasted eggplant, marinated mushrooms, salad, and a sizeable slice of something I’d never had before, Sweet Potato and Buckwheat Shepherd’s pie. The combination of meaty, nutty toasted buckwheat set against the smooth, sweet and creamy potato was a heavenly match. And while I promptly forgot what an artist’s statement was (if I ever really knew it), that Shepherd’s pie, with its magical pattern of ochre potato and sepia buckwheat, was etched permanently in my memory.
Imagine my surprise when, a couple of weeks ago, I came across a recipe for Sweet Potato and Kasha Burgers while flipping through one of my favorite cookbooks, one of the first I bought when I started experimenting with vegetarian cuisine: Nettie’s Vegetarian Kitchen by Nettie Cronish. The book contains one of my all-time favorite recipes, Almond-Curry Tofu Stir-Fry . In fact, I was so taken with that recipe once I discovered it that I proceeded to cook variations of the dish at least twice a week for the following six months or so (at which point the HH tersely informed me that he would never eat a single MORSEL of tofu EVER AGAIN, as long as he LIVED. Odd, since I’m fairly certain he wouldn’t have had the same reaction to, say, steak a couple of times a week for six months. . . but I digress.)
“Steak? Did someone say ’steak’? Ooooh, we haven’t had steak in ages. . . years, maybe. . . ”
“Elsie, what’s steak?”
I couldn’t believe my luck: the recipe featured that elusive duo of sweet potato and buckwheat! I knew I had to try it. And just what made this particular pattie so special, you ask? Well, it seems to me that in any duel between veggie burgers, you have your tofu-based on the North American side, and you have your nut-based on the UK/Antipodean side. But Nettie’s burger–while still a realistic, objective representation of “burger”–featured neither of these. The patties are based on the combination of grain and tuber, with a dash of almond butter as a binder. I have to admit, I was initially doubtful and wondered if they’d hold together, but they worked beautifully. Even the HH, with his skepticism for any non-meat proteins, enjoyed them immensely.
“Mum, I’m quite sure I heard you say ’burger”! You know we’re always happy to help out with meat of any kind. . . Oh, Chaser, you’ll love burgers! They’re sort of like steak.”
I served this hearty dish (substantial enough to eat sans buns) alongside a favorite recipe for spring salad. The interplay of colors on the plate struck me as so artistic, in fact, it made me immediately nostalgic for those artsy days back at OCA.
Since these burgers were the cornerstone of a delectable vegetarian meal, I’m submitting this post to Eat the Right Stuff’s blog event, Vegetable, Beautiful Vegetables.
* he of the black leather pants. . . of course.
Sweet Potato and Kasha Burgers
adapted from Nettie’s Vegetarian Kitchen
Surprisingly hearty and filling, these burgers are quite easy to throw together and offer a savory, almost smoky flavor. Leftovers stored in the fridge will firm up even more overnight. I halved the recipe with no problems.
1-1/2 cups (375 ml.) dry buckwheat (kasha)
3 cups (750 ml.) water or vegetable broth [I used veg broth]
1 tsp. (5 ml.) sea salt, or 1/4 tsp. (1.5 ml.) if using vegetable broth above
1 large onion, finely chopped
4 Tbsp. (60 ml.) toasted sesame oil or extra virgin olive oil, divided
1 celery stalk, finely chopped
1 large carrot, grated
2 large sweet potatoes, cubed, steamed or boiled until tender [I actually baked mine] and mashed
1/4 cup (60 ml.) almond butter or tahini (sesame paste)
1/4 cup (60 ml.) chopped fresh basil
2 green onions, finely chopped
2 Tbsp. (30 ml.) tamari or soy sauce
Dry-roast the kasha in a heavy skillet over medum heat for 5 minutes, stirring often with a wooden spoon. Add 3 cups (750 ml.) water and salt; bring to boil over high heat. Reduce heat; cover and cook over low heat until water is absorbed and kasha is tender, about 15 minutes.
Cook onion in 1 Tbsp. (15 ml.) oil over medium heat until softened. Add celery and carrot; cook for another 5 minutes until softened.
Stir together kasha, vegetables (including sweet potato), almond butter, basil, greeen onions and soy sauce until combined. Keeping hands moist, form into 8 large or 16 small patties. Heat remaining 3 Tbsp. (45 ml.) oil in large frying pan over medium-high heat. Cook burgers 5 minutes, turning once, until golden brown and crisp on the outside. [Note: I baked half and fried half of these, just to see how they'd hold up in the oven. They worked just fine with both cooking methods, though the baked burgers never acquired that crispy blackened exterior that the fried ones had. Still yummy, though!]
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