[What I should have made for our Christmas dinner this year. . . . ]
What. . . is it December 27th, already?? Hope you’ve all had a wonderful holiday season so far! I must confess, the last few days have been among the laziest of my life. And you know what? It felt great!
So what have the HH, the Girls and I been up to since I last visited this space? Here’s a quick recap:
The Girls Express their Annoyance. The Girls posed for their 2010 Christmas card, and if all your comments are any indication, they clearly seemed peeved at having to don those costumes. Let’s just say I’ll never be another William Wegman. (“Mum, we weren’t annoyed so much as impatient. . . for our presents! Thanks for those treats we got! And can we have more of that white stuff? Oh, and who is that handsome Weimeraner in that photo?!”).
Start the Day Off Right. After sleeping in until we awoke naturally sans alarm, the HH and I bounded out of bed to open our gifts. And while they were polite enough not to disturb us while we slept, the Girls were certainly lively enough as soon as they confirmed we were awake:
["Elsie, play with me or I will eat you!"]
So, while the HH took the dogs for a trail walk, I set about making a hearty brunch to tide us over until dinnertime:
[These fabulous pancakes, topped with homemade sweet almond-coconut butter and plum sauces, with eggplant bacon (recipe coming soon).]
Best to Stick with Tradition, Even if It’s Non-Traditional. Those of you who’ve been reading DDD for a while will likely recall that our regular holiday tradition for the past few years has been an Indian feast, often shared with the CFO. Well, when my sister couldn’t make it this year, the HH proclaimed, “I want something traditional! I want TURKEY!”.
Regular readers will also know that the HH eats, well, everything. And as long as he prepares his own food, I don’t attempt to influence what he consumes. So off we went to get an organic turkey for him to cook. While he roasted his turkey, I prepared my new recipe for a holiday nutroast.
By 7:00 PM, dinner was finally served. Here’s my plate:
As I said, I shouldn’t have messed with our (non-traditional) tradition. While tasty enough, my nut roast was not what I’d call a success. I do have an inkling of how to improve it and will share as soon as I give it a try.
Turkey =Doggie Crack. The Girls, on the other hand, devoured their turkey scraps in no short order. This was the first time Chaser ever tasted turkey, and let me tell you, the crazed look it sparked in her eye was even more frenzied than usual. I got the stare pretty much the rest of the day.
[What was that white stuff, Mum? And can I please have some more?"]
And Elsie wasn’t immune, either:
[I've just got to be patient, and I'm sure there will be more turkey forthcoming. . . . "]
It’s Good to Chillax. I think that last week of school, frantic prepping for Christmas, buying a new car (so that the HH can have my old car, since his was totalled) and various and sundry other errands has wiped a goodly portion of my mind clean, sort of the way reformatting clears out your hard drive. I’ve felt pretty much incapable of any sustained thought or activity since Christmas morning, wandering around the past few days in a bit of a haze (albeit with a semi smile on my face and a very full belly), without much to say in this space. The HH is off work until the first week of January, so we’ll be spending quite a bit of time together.
["Life is so rough when you're waiting for turkey. . . *sigh*."]
Yesterday morning, for instance, the HH and I (after sleeping in yet again), spent most of the AM reading the entire newspaper, front to back, for the first time in months.
[The HH's coffee cup, and the news: freak east coast snowstorms and Boxing Day Deals.]
Then we proceeded to clean up the detritus from our Christmas dinner:
[The HH's wine glass, the morning after. Sadly, no wine for me this year. Damn you, ACD!]
We sat by the fireplace, sipped on coffee/matcha tea and listened to music (including my new Pink CD, a gift from the HH):
[On the left: my matcha tea. On the right: the HH's wine glass. . . afternoon incarnation.]
I also went to see How Do You Knowwith my friend Eternal Optimist yesterday afternoon (we had planned on The King’s Speech, but they were sold out; still, Reese Witherspoon is always winsome, and that Paul Rudd is such a cutie).
And now, after even more lounging about today, I finally feel ready to leap back in to cooking and blogging about recipes.
["Elsie, do you think we'll get any more turkey?"]
Sorry to say I won’t be sharing that nut roast recipe just yet.
In the meantime, here’s the recipe for the African Sweet Potato Stew I mentioned in this post, which some of you asked about. It’s a tried-and-true success that I’ve made many times in the past. It’s hearty, filling, with chunks of sweet potato and chickpeas bathed in a rich, creamy coconut milk gravy that’s infused with a variety of spices and the mineral-rich addition of collards.
Perhaps I should add it to the menu for next year’s Christmas feast.
The list of ingredients does seem long, but so much of this is spice that the actual prep time isn’t as much as you’d think. The recipe makes a huge vat of stew, so you can package and freeze it for later consumption, too.
1 Tbsp (15 ml) coconut or extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
1 large onion, chopped
1 thumb-size piece ginger, peeled and chopped
4 garlic cloves, chipped
1/2 cup (120 ml) cilantro leaves, chopped
1 red bell pepper, cored and chopped
1 small jalapeno pepper, minced (or use 1/2 tsp/1.5 ml chili flakes)
1 Tbsp (15 ml) ground cumin
1 tsp (5 ml) whole mustard seeds, brown or yellow
2 tsp (10 ml) ground coriander
1 tsp (5 ml) ground turmeric
1 tsp (5 ml) paprika
1/4 tsp (1 ml) cayenne pepper
1 large can (19 oz or 500 ml) diced tomatoes, drained (reserve the juice)
2 medium sweet potatoes, peeled and chopped into 1-inch (2.5 cm) cubes
2-3 medium white potatoes, chopped into 1-inch (2.5 cm) cubes
1 can (12 oz or 400 ml) coconut milk
1/3 cup (80 ml) natural smooth almond or peanut butter (use almond for ACD)
1 pound (500 g) collard greens, midribs removed and shredded
2 cups (480 ml) cooked chickpeas
Heat the oil in a large pot or dutch oven over medium heat; add the onion, ginger, garlic and cilantro and sauté until the onion is translucent, about 7 minutes. Add the red pepper, jalapeno, cumin, mustard seeds, corinder, trumeric, paprika and cayenne and cook a couple more minutes. Add the tomatoes, sweet potatoes, potatoes and coconut milk; cover and bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer, covered, until the potatoes are soft, about 15 minutes.
Place the almond butter in a small bowl or glass measuring cup and scoop about 1/2 cup of the liquid from the stew, adding it to the nut butter; mix well, until smooth. Pour the mixture back into the pot and blend it in. Add the collards and chickpeas and continue to cook until the greens are soft, another 5-10 minutes. If the sauce is too thin, allow to simmer, uncovered, stirring occasionally, until desired thickness is reached. Serve over rice or cooked quinoa. Makes 6-8 servings. May be frozen.
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!
[This week's A Gluten Free Holiday (the fourth installment of this event that Amy created) is hosted by Diane at The Whole Gang. You'll probably remember Diane's "30 days to a food revolution"--she even got Jamie Oliver involved! Diane's theme is sides and main courses today, so hop over to her blog if you'd like to see what she made (warning to vegans: meat-heavy recipe!), to enter the contest to win one of several cookbooks (see below) or to post your own recipe, click here.
Diane is giving away TWO books by Shauna James Ahern, everybody's favorite Gluten Free Girl! You could win Shauna's first book:
or the just-released, co-authored book by Shauna and her husband Danny:
Diane is also giving away TEN of my books--a hard copy of Sweet Freedom:
My contribution this week, surprisingly, involves rutabaga. (It's only a surprise, really, if you know my history with this gnarly root--but we've now gotten past our differences, the 'Baga and I).
It all started in the Garden of Eden. Well, okay, not literally, but it began with the promise of a portrait. And before that, it had its roots in the early days of my romance with the HH. And before that, it occurred with basically every man who ever went on a date with any woman, back through the centuries. . . as far back, even, as Adam and Eve.
It all started with a guy who promised, "I'll call you."
Yes, men have gotten in hot water over this one for all eternity. You know how it goes: you're at the end of a first date and he walks you to the door to say goodnight. You're standing beneath the beam of a streetlight as it illuminates the hopeful glint in your eyes. You gaze askance. "I had a great time," you whisper (a little breathlessly), tilting your chin up toward his face.
"Me, too," he replies, and brushes a kiss across your cheek. "Yeah, let's do it again. I'll call you."
I mean, can't you just imagine it? Garden of Eden. Eve says to Adam, "Hey, how do you like them apples?" Adam replies, "Wow, those were great. Let's do this again. I'll call you." And she never hears from him again.
Just as Freud wrestled with the question of What Women Really Want, every woman alive has attempted to solve the mystery of "Why do men say they'll call and then never call?" In fact, an entire movie was even devoted to the conundrum.
I've asked the HH about this (far too many times, according to him). Why do men (or anyone, for that matter) promise to do things they subsequently don't deliver? The HH's theory is that "we mean it at the time we say it." It's just that somehow, between the kiss at the door and buckling the seatbelt, that good intention dissolves as the guys realize that nope, they're just not that into you.
Apart from not calling me after our first date (or our second, or third, or pretty much ever since then), the HH and I have an ongoing joke about another of his unkept promises (no, nothing to do with "The M Word"--I have no desire to repeat youthful mistakes, either).
For years now, the HH has promised to paint a portrait of me. You see, even though he never pursued it as a career, the HH (who studied Fine Arts in university) happens to be one of the most talented artists I've ever seen. (In the early days of our relationship, I was constantly blown away by his artistic abilities. Sitting around the dinner table at my friend Gemini I's cottage one evening, the HH grabbed a pencil on the table, pulled over a napkin and--within the space of 45 seconds--drew a likeness of the niveous scene outside the window: the moonlit cottage across the frozen lake, the towering pines, the drifting snow. Gemini I asked if she could keep it, and it now hangs in their family room.)
Although he doesn't paint any more, I pleadedcajoledbegged asked the HH if he'd do a portrait of me (and make me look 10 pounds lighter in it, of course). When he hemmed and hawed, I questioned what it would take to convince him. His answer? "Make some authentic Scalloped Potatoes for me." (And he meant, to eat!). Well, what can I say--the guy likes potatoes.
Needless to say, he had his potatoes that week. And that week was. . . oh, perhaps 312 weeks or so ago. Do I have my portrait? Of course not. (But he really meant it at the time that he said it. . . ). .
Those potatoes came to mind as I was browsing through last month's issue of Whole Livingmagazine the other day. Like Martha Stewart's other publications (Living and Everyday Food), Whole Living quite often features vegan or vegan-friendly recipes. And right there, in an article about "Dishing Up Nostalgia" with health-conscious chefs, was a recipe for Rutabaga Gratin. Which looked exactly like scalloped potatoes. This might be my chance to nab that portrait after all, I mused.
Although I've never been a lover of rutabaga (unless it's the almond butter-crusted variety, that is), I knew the moment I saw the photo that I'd love this dish. In fact, this is the perfect dress-up ensemble for the otherwise homely rutabaga. Softened and sweetened by its slow roast in the oven, the rutabaga is transformed from dowdy tuber to ravishing root. With its rich, silky robe of cashew cream and nubby breadcrumb collar, little 'Baga gets all dressed up for its big date in this recipe.
I fed this to the HH and he was, like me, enraptured. "This stuff is great!" he enthused, scooping up almost half the casserole onto his plate. "It might even be better than scalloped potatoes," he went on. "You've definitely got to make this again."
"Sure thing," I said. "Maybe next week." Turns out, that was two weeks ago. But I did mean it when I said it. . . .
Rutabaga Gratin (adapted from Whole Living, November 2010)
This is the one rutabaga dish you’ll love even if you don’t like rutabaga. I made some adjustments to the original recipe to accommodate the ACD since the original included nutritional yeast. And while the ingredient list seems long, this comes together really quickly since everything is blended, mixed together and then baked.
For the Cashew Cream:
1-3/4 cups (420 ml) boiling water
1/2 cup (120 ml) sesame tahini
1-1/2 Tbsp (22.5 ml) light miso
2 tsp (10 ml) freshly squeezed lemon juice
1 cup (150 g) raw cashews
For the Breadcrumbs:
2 slices rustic gluten-free bread (I used quinoa bread)
1 Tbsp (15 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
For the Gratin:
2 small or one large rutabaga, peeled and cut into 1/8 inch (2 mm) thick rounds
fine sea salt and freshly ground pepper
2 Tbsp plus 2 tsp (40 ml) herbs de provence [or use the original recipe's seasonings: 4 tsp (20 ml) chopped fresh thyme and 4 tsp (20 ml) chopped fresh marjoram]
1/4 tsp (1 ml) ground nutmeg
2 Tbsp (30 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
Make the cashew cream:
Place cashews in a medium bowl and cover with boiling water; allow to sit for 15-30 minutes, until they begin to soften. Pour the cashews (and water) into a blender with the remaining cream ingredients and blend until perfectly smooth and creamy. Set aside.
Make the breadcrumbs: Tear bread into pieces and place in the bowl of a food processor. Pulse until you have fine crumbs, then toss the crumbs with the oil. Set aside.
Assemble the gratin: Preheat oven to 375F (190C). Grease a nine inch (22 cm) casserole dish with nonstick spray or a bit of extra virgin olive oil.
Cover the bottom of the casserole dish with a layer of rutabaga slices, overlapping slightly to cover the entire surface (but keep slices in a single layer). Season with salt, pepper, and half the herbs. Add another layer of rutabaga on top of the first and season with salt, pepper and the rest of the herbs. Cover with about 1/3 of the cashew cream (enough to cover both layers). Continue in this manner until the baking dish is full, then pour in the remaining cashew cream. Sprinkle the nutmeg over the top layer.
Bake in preheated oven on a baking sheet (to catch any overflow that spills out) for 30 minutes, then remove and rotate the casserole before sprinkling the top with the breadcrumbs. Bake an additional 45-55 minutes, until the rutabaga is soft when pierced with a knife and the breadcrumbs are browned. Makes 6-8 servings.
Per serving: 149 calories; 1 g saturated fat; 5 g unsaturated fat; 0 mg cholesterol; 18 g carbs; 89 mg sodium; 5 g protein; 4 g fiber
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.
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.
