First: Thanks to everyone who entered the Desserts without Compromise giveaway over the weekend! I’m delighted by the positive response and will be announcing the winners later today (once I choose the names). If you’d like to purchase a copy of the book, the introductory sale is on until the end of the month–you can purchase either ebook at a discount, or save even more if you buy the package of both together! Check here for details.
And now, before I get to today’s recipe, I thought it would be a good time to paraphrase Oprah (because, really, is there ever a bad time to paraphrase Oprah?). And this is what I want to say:
Mothers, I Salute You.
As someone who has never had the experience of motherhood, I can only guess at what it is like. But this past weekend, I had a teeny glimpse. You see, after an ostensibly normal Friday, the HH and I were sitting enjoying dinner (a fabulous raw kale salad with tangy dill dressing) when Elsie limped into the room. Well, perhaps “limped” isn’t quite the correct term; it was more like “writhed in or agony” or “seized with exquisite pain.” You see, the poor furry girl appeared to have lost the entire use of her back leg–she could not even touch the tip of her paw to the floor, her leg hanging like a cracked branch on a lightning-struck tree as she hobbled over to where we were (pain or not, she wasn’t going to miss out on post-prandial leftovers) on three legs.
How had this happened? More importantly, how had I let this happen? I was racked with guilt. Had I overtaxed her with our extra-long walk that afternoon? Had she stepped on a piece of rusty metal when romping in the pond with Chaser? Had I somehow missed a shard of broken glass on the sidewalk?
But it wasn’t my guilt that I associate with motherhood, no, no! It was the heart-wrenching, excruciating torment I experienced at watching my beloved girl suffer. The helplessness to relieve her pain felt unbearable. It was like the anticipation of knowing your finger is headed right toward the whirring blade of the meat slicer as you slide uncontrollably across the floor. Like having to walk across a vat of deadly scorpions. Like being forced to watch every single Julia Roberts film ever made, in a sadistic marathon session without any intermission (okay, maybe I’m exaggerating; the Julia Roberts thing isn’t quite the same degree of torture as the other two. I mean, you can still live without a finger, right?)
I felt so bad for the poor thing, in fact, that I badgered the HH into carrying her up and down the stairs every time she had to go outside, for the remainder of the day. All this while Elsie, oblivious to the pathos of her situation, soldiered on as if she had always had only three good legs. I, on the other hand, was a whimpering mess. And so, I reiterate: Mothers, I Salute You.
(In the end, we rushed her to the vet first thing Saturday morning and found out she had somehow torn a ligament. Two weeks of pillow rest should repair it. Now we just have to convince Chaser to leave her alone that long.)
She may be stoic, but poor Elsie does seem a bit depressed about it all, too:
“Sigh. Mum, why do I have to stay here at home while Chaser gets to go play in the rain? And why am I so accident-prone?”
I decided to stay indoors and keep my furry Girl company while the HH took Chaser for a trail-walk. Thinking about how to use up the last of our mint (and contribute another dish to this month’s SOS Kitchen Challenge, which continues until the end of the month) led me to Thai rice paper rolls.
Many moons ago during our first year as a couple, the HH and I took a Thai cooking class together. How do I know it was our first year together? The HH agreed to take a cooking class with me. (A guy is never more willing to do “chick” things than during the first few months of a relationship). Anyway, we made a whole bunch of stuff I’ll probably never eat again–Coconut, Ginger and Chicken soup; Red Curry Chicken; Pad Thai–but one thing I do remember is the raw rice paper spring rolls. Man, were they good. And the beauty of the dish was that (a) they were incredibly quick and easy to make; and (b) you could fill them with pretty much anything you liked.
I was transported back to the memory of that evening a few days ago when I came upon Cheryl’s post on these tasty rolls. I decided immediately to concoct the rolls again and, in the process, “adopt” Cheryl (whose blog is Gluten Free Goodness, full of healthy GF recipes and Cheryl’s upbeat approach to better health) for the monthly Adopt a Gluten-Free Blogger event. The event asks you to choose a GF blogger and reproduce at least one of their recipes. This month, Shirley of Gluten Free Easily is the host.
I did my rolls ever so slightly differently from Cheryl’s, omitting both the napa cabbage and the sprouts, and using rice vermicelli as a filler instead. But really, you could add pretty much any chopped veggies or fillers you like (my favorite combo would be strips of tofu, shredded carrot, red pepper, rice vermicelli, with a touch of cilantro, basil and mint) as long as they can be cut into matchsticks or grated and rolled into the wraps.
As Cheryl points out, the method is actually pretty simple once you get the hang of it. I found that setting out all the ingredients and a bowl of warm water before starting the process was essential for success. I dipped my rice paper wrappers for only about 8 seconds, then allowed excess water to drip off before rolling them. The wrappers then absorbed a bit more of the surface water as they were being rolled, resulting in a final texture that was perfect.
I also figured out how to create pretty patterns with the cilantro, mint or basil leaves; simply lay them down first against the wrappers, then top with your rice vermicelli before piling on the other ingredients. This creates a white “background” for the leaves. Easy, and impressive! These would make great appetizers or a first course for a Thai meal.
For Cheryl’s original recipe and method, see her post here. I served mine with an almond-butter based dipping sauce, based on the one from the ReBar restaurant (recipe here), using almond butter instead of peanut butter, Bragg’s instead of soy sauce, and stevia instead of honey.
Thanks, Cheryl, for the inspiration! The rolls made a satisfying, simple and speedy lunch. (“Mum, you know it’s not nice to mention ‘speedy’ when I’m pillow-ridden like this. But I’d be happy to help you clean up that almond sauce, if you like.”)
[A quick note and special request: The VegNews Awards polls for 2010 are open! If you like Diet, Dessert and Dogs or my cookbook, Sweet Freedom, please head to the site and add them to their lists! You can nominate me for the blog, cookbook author or tweeter categories. How great would it be for an allergy-friendly, whole foods site to top their lists? (And guess what? Ms. Ellen is already nominated! I sense that a meeting will be coming about somehow. . . ) Your support is much appreciated, everyone!]
[Simple to make, delicious to eat: red lentil pâté]
The first time I purchased an ebook from Christy Morgan (aka The Blissful Chef), all I really knew about her was (a) she lived in LA; and (b) she cooked according to macrobiotic principles. Well, since I’d studied the macrobiotic diet in nutrition school, I knew it meshed very well with my own food philosophy and even the anti-candida diet (ACD), as it focuses on whole and local ingredients and traditional preparation methods. And as someone who’s been pining to return to LA (especially on The Ellen Show!) since my last visit there when I was 17, I was pleased to know that fact about Christy, too.
A few weeks ago, I bought the most recent in the “Cooking with the Seasons” series for summer. This is the second in a series of Christy’s ebooks that present recipes geared specifically toward each season. In this ebook, Christy talks a bit about how summer is the “fire” season and why it makes sense to prepare foods that are fresh, mostly raw, quick and easy–to avoid the heat of the kitchen and preserve our energies for other activities during the warm weather. She also discusses her approach to cooking, which she describes as “macrobiotic, vegan, raw fusion.” The sixteen recipes in the ebook reflect that philosophy as well.
The first thing that struck me as I browsed through the recipes was that were so many in it I could eat–with no (or very little) adjustment. Whole foods, low fat, easy preparation and nothing processed–these are the kinds of recipes that fit perfectly with someone on the ACD!
I decided to plunge right in with the ”Red Lentil Pâté with Cashews,” a quick and easy spread that’s perfect to serve to guests or for a light dinner. This is a lovely appetizer with a light texture that’s quite different from the rich, nut-heavy spreads that are more commonly served as vegan pâtés; in keeping with the light summer theme, this recipe has no added fat (though the cashews do add some, of course).
I adored this pâté. It works beautifully as a finger food or even–as I found myself snacking on it–straight from a spoon. The preparation is super-simple (though you do need some time to let the mixture boil down). I was skeptical at first about the amount of curry powder in this–it’s a full tablespoon–but once the mixture cooks up and the lentils begin to soften and dissolve, the final balance of seasoning is perfect. Once cold, the mixture firmed up beautifully as well.
Serve this on crackers, as I did, or slice a thick block to have between slices of hearty bread, with some lettuce and sprouts for a great summer sandwich.
Next up was the “Fresh Herb Salad with White Peaches.” Again, the ingredient list was mostly fresh, whole fruit and vegetables with flavorful fresh herbs as garnish. The combination of peaches, greens, and just-picked herbs sounded fantastic to me, and a great way to use seasonal produce and some of the lovely basil from my garden. Although I couldn’t find white peaches, the final result with conventional fruit was strikingly colorful and vibrant, like a festive float at a summer celebration:
[Fresh Herb Salad with White Peaches--and this is anunretouched photo; the colors really are this intense!]
Finally, I cooked up the “Garden Fresh Millet Quinoa” for dinner; I knew I couldn’t go wrong with two of my favorite grains. Another quick and simple preparation resulted in a light, flavorful dish that was so much more than the sum of its parts. A mélange of colors, flavors and textures contribute to a filling and satisfying meal that both the HH and I enjoyed immensely.
With other recipes like “Heirloom Tomato Bruschetta,” “Creamy Tomato Basil Bisque,” “Kale with Lemon Miso Dressing,” “Summertime Succotash,” or “Mixed-Berry Couscous Cake,” the book offers tasty, fresh ways to use your summer produce and stay cool in the kitchen. And at only $4.99 per book (or $7.99 for both!), Cooking with the Seasons: Summer is a great find.
To provide a sample of the book’s recipes, Christy has graciously allowed me to reprint the Red Lentil Pâté with Cashews. If you enjoy lentil curry, you’ll love this.
This is a light spread and one that tastes equally good cold or slightly warm.
1/4 cup (60 ml) filtered water or broth (I used vegetable broth)
1 carrot, diced
1 celery stalk, diced
1 Tbsp (15 ml) curry powder (I used mild)
1 Tbsp (15 ml) dried coriander
pinch fine sea salt
1 Tbsp (15 ml) minced ginger
1 cup (240 ml) red lentils, washed and picked over
3 cups (720 ml) filtered water (I used vegetable broth)
1 Tbsp (15 ml) tamari (I used Braggs aminos)
1/2 cup (120 ml) lightly toasted cashews, chopped
fresh cilantro, for garnish
Heat the 1/4 cup (60 ml) water in a medium saucepan over medium-high flame. When the water starts to sizzle, sauté the veggies, spices, ginger and salt for a few minutes. Add the 3 cups (720 ml) water or broth and lentils to the pot and bring to a boil. Lower heat, cover, and simmer, stirring occasionally, until smooth, about 30 minutes. Stir in the tamari and cashews and keep stirring, scraping the bottom of the pot as necessary to avoid scorching, until the mixture becomes very thick and paste-like (this took me another 20-30 minutes).
Place the mixture in a loaf pan, bowl, or decorative dish and let sit at least 15 minutes to cool and firm up (I refrigerated mine for a few hours). Serve garnished with cilantro, with crackers for spreading. Will keep, covered, in the refrigerator up to 3 days.
On my hectic workday mornings, I love thee all stirred up and blended in a smoothie.
I love thee when I crave something snacky, all coated in a cheezy sauce. And, I have no doubt, I shall but love thee even better after dehydrating.
Yes, there are infinte ways to enjoy kale, and I never tire of the frilly, flirty, leafy green chameleon. Kale is the Meryl Streep of green leafy vegetables; you can dress it up in an endless number of guises, it easily takes on the accent of any country on the globe, it’s comfortable exhibiting countless incarnations–but underneath it all, it’s still essentially the same, every time.
Kale brings to mind my friend Babe’s mother, who used to pad from bedroom to bedroom each night as she tucked in each of her four children. After pulling up the covers and smoothing her child’s hair, she’d lean over and whisper, “I love you the most.” That’s how I feel about kale. No matter what the meal, no matter how it’s prepared, that’s the one I love the most.
And now, there’s a new favorite kale in town! As a subscriber to the McDougall newsletter, I came across this salad recipe tucked inobtrusively behind the savory lentil spread, spicy garbanzo pinwheels, and balsamic strawberry dressing this month. What appears at first a mild-mannered, simple and uncomplicated dish belies the underlying complexity and subtle layering of flavors in this recipe. And once again, the dressing is the true star of the salad. It’s so good that The HH and I ate an entire head of kale this way!
I’m thrilled to have another raw kale salad to recommend. It’s so quick and easy, it’s crazy simple. A perfect way to add fresh greens to your meal–or make it the meal itself, as we did.
Just like a great poem, this one’s destined to become a classic.
After polishing off the entire bowl, it occurred to me that the kale would have been spectacular if spread on a teflex sheet and popped in a dehydrator (or cookie sheet and low-temperature oven) to make my own kale chips. I’m saving that for next time (but let me know if you try it!).
For the salad:
1 head of curly green kale, washed, dried and stems removed
For the dressing:
1/2 cup (120 ml) raw or regular natural smooth almond butter
1/2 cup (120 ml) water
2 Tbsp (30 ml) freshly squeezed lime juice (about one lime)
1-2 cloves garlic, minced, to your taste
about 1/2 inch (1.5 cm) piece ginger, peeled and minced
5 drops plain liquid stevia
1/4 tsp (1.5 ml) red pepper flakes
2 Tbsp (30 ml) sesame seeds, raw or lightly toasted
Finely chop the kale and place in a large bowl.
In a smaller bowl, whisk together the remaining ingredients except for sesame seeds. Pour the mixture over the kale and toss well to coat. Sprinkle with sesame seeds and serve. Makes 4-6 side servings or 2 main course servings.
Remember that first blush of new love, those early days when you were still keen to learn every little thing about your sweetheart? A casual glance around the back yard revealed the emerald hue of the grass, the red of the tomato plants, the coral of the peonies all mysteriously so much sharper and more intense, as if your world had suddenly graduated to HD. The woman at the A & P checkout was actually friendly for once, even smiling when she returned your change. Even your office cubicle, previously no more than a cramped, beige, barren receptacle, seemed to brighten a little, become a source of personal pride and production.
Ah, the unblemished enthusiasm of a new relationship, when you were still willing to do almost anything to please your partner. You want to go see the movie 10,000 BC? Sure, I’d love to, I’ve always been a huge fan of big game hunting! There’s an exhibit at the Science Center on “The Demographics of Star Trek: From Vulcan to Romulin and Beyond”? Well, count me in, I’m just fascinated by the mating habits of those pointy-eared dudes! Can we spend the weekend at my buddy Alfie’s helping him rebuild his 1972 Corvette engine? You betcha! Grease and metal–two of my favorite things!
In those early days, you would never dream of facing your beloved without having showered, shaved, or styled your hair. Mascara was meticulously applied; earrings carefully chosen to complement the pattern of your (new) skirt. And forays to Victoria’s Secret became a regular occurrence, so you could invest in frilly unmentionables you likely would never have glanced at otherwise (though I’m sorry, I could just never get behind the thong craze. Or get it behind me, either, for that matter).
Eventually, of course, you both relax and become accustomed to being together. Really, why bother with contacts the minute you leap out of bed, if you’re just reading the paper in your flannel robe at the kitchen table sipping coffee? And this old Counting Crows T-shirt is so much more comfy than those slippery, frilly babydolls, isn’t it? And let’s face it, cotton briefs just feel better under jeans. It’s the weekend–does it really matter if you walk the dogs in sweats and runners, or if you postpone that shower until after you’ve finished your gardening? You’re just going to sweat again, anyway.
Well, during those first starry-eyed few months of our relationship, before we both abandoned the faςade for good, the HH was still making an attempt to impress me. Um, let me rephrase that; it was probably more like during the first month or so that the HH was occasionally trying to impress me. Okay, maybe not a whole month. All right, fine; it was only once. But that one time was very impressive.
You see, the HH’s notion of “impressing me,” like his notion of everything else, was atypical. He isn’t one for flowers (which he has bought for me a total of two times in our 13 years together); or for giving me chocolates (twice); or jewelry (once). No, the HH’s concept of “how to impress a gal” was to cook for me. And, also characteristic of the HH, he went all out, planning a four-course dinner for me–and six guests.
I won’t get into the details, but suffice it to say that the “only” place he could buy his meat (this was during my physician-ordered “return to meat” phase, during my first candida cleanse; I’m smarter now) was the most expensive market in the city, and since he didn’t own any kitchen utensils or equipment, he bought them there, too, and since the recipe required a very expensive, French, red wine, he picked that up as well, and. . . 11 hours and a full week’s paycheck later, eight of us enjoyed a massive feast and hugely successful party that carried on until the single-digit hours of the morning.
The HH has never cooked since.
For my part, I felt I had to reciprocate. Throwing dinner parties in those heady days of my “social thirties” was no hardship, but I knew the dessert had to be spectacular. I happily put together a menu and spent the weekend cooking. And while I have no recollection of the main course that evening, I do recall that this salad kicked off the festivities, and became a repeated feature at parties all that summer. (Of course I remember the dessert as well: a towering concoction that was part meringue and part genoise, its strata stuck together with alternating layers of mocha buttercream and chocolate ganache, topped with handmade chocolate lace decorations and gold dragees. It made an incredibly impressive end to the meal–and breakfast the next morning).
In addition to being aesthetically appealing with its variety of shapes and colors, the salad offers a light yet satisfying first course or side dish. As we all know, it’s the dressing that “makes” a salad, and this one is magical. The jalapeno subtext underscores the fragrant, slightly sweet tarragon, all in tandem with the vibrant colors and textures of the veggies. You could probably sub almost any vegetables of your choice (I bet green beans and beets would go nicely), so feel free to change them up as you like.
About a week ago, I stumbled across the recipe on a wayward magazine page as I was leafing through my recipe folders. After a Proustian moment of salivating reverie, I decided to recreate the salad for dinner that night, grill or no grill.
As we sat across from each other at our unadorned kitchen table (the morning’s paper still piled off to the side), munching on the mélange of grilled veggies, herbs and seeds, the HH and I were momentarily transported back to that early summer of dinner parties and getting to know each other.
“I remember this one,” the HH remarked, a dreamy smile on his face. ”This salad is terrific.” I may have even detected the hint of a long-lost gleam in his eye.
He may have been sporting a three-day stubble and ragged college-era T-shirt; I may have been still wearing my workout gear and glasses (I don’t even own contacts any more); the salad may have been more work than we’re used to these days, but it was worth it.
“Yes,” I replied, smiling at my sweetheart. “I”d say it’s very impressive.”
A great dish to make for a BBQ or buffet table. With its rainbow mix of colors and fragrant fresh herb dressing, this salad has something to please everyone.
Salad:
1 each yellow and green zucchini
1 each sweet green and red pepper, cored
1 large carrot, peeled
1 large eggplant
1/3 cup (80 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 jalapeno pepper, seeded and minced
1/4 tsp (1 ml) each salt and pepper
1/4 cup (60 ml) sunflower seeds, lightly toasted
Dressing:
1 Tbsp (15 ml) chopped fresh tarragon leaves
1 Tbsp (15 ml) fresh lemon juice
1 Tbsp (15 ml) balsamic vinegar (for ACD: use apple cider vinegar)
5-8 drops plain liquid stevia, to taste
2 green onions, chopped
1 small clove garlic, minced
pinch each, fine sea salt and pepper
1/4 cup (60 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
Cut both zucchini, both peppers, carrot and eggplant lengthwise into 1/2 inch (1 cm) thick slices. In a large bowl, whisk together the oil, garlic, jalapeno, salt and pepper; add vegetables and toss to coat.
Place vegetables, in batches, on greased grill over medium heat; close lid and cook, turning occasionally, for about 10 minutes or just until tender-crisp. Let cool on cutting board and then cut into 2 x 1/2 inch (5 x 1 cm) sticks. Set aside.
Prepare dresssing: In a large bowl, combine tarragon, lemon juice, vinegar, stevia, green onion, garlic, salt and pepper; gradually whisk in oil. Add vegetables and stir to coat. Serve sprinkled with sunflower seeds. Makes 6 servings. Will keep, covered, in refrigerator up to 2 days.
[Ah, if only I were truly still enjoying my salad days . . . in reality, I am firmly ensconced smack-dab in the middle of my "main course" days. But you can enjoy this salad at any age!]
Now that summer is undeniably underway in these parts (nothing spells “summer” quite like a week of temperatures soaring beyond 33C/92F), heavy duty cooking and baking seem so. . . unnecessary. I find myself yearning for more raw foods, more fresh foods, and fewer baked goods at the moment (though ice cream cravings do still “scream” rather loudly).
A heatwave such as we endured last week always takes me back to the first year the HH and I lived together, in a miniscule bungalow in the east end of town bordering Scarborough. Not the best neighborhood (there was a murder around the corner from our place, after which I never walked on that street again), the house was, nevertheless, the best we could afford at the time.
Our home was a post-war structure, so tiny it effectively impersonated one of those Fischer Price dollhouses (sans a live toddler, of course). The living room was replete with dusty rose Pier One loveseat and 27 year-old console television, with no room for much else; the bathroom was so narrow that you had to turn sideways to brush your teeth; and the master bedroom, located directly above the (uninsulated) front porch, was an icebox in winter and veritable kiln in summer.
Now, if you’ve ever been to Toronto in the summertime, you will likely remember one important characteristic about this city. No, it’s not the CN tower (no longer the tallest freestanding structure in the world). No, it’s not Toronto’s reputation as the most multicultural city in the world (even though it is). Not the fact that, for a couple of wild nights in June, 2010, its denizens blushed as the city lost its unofficial title of ”Most Polite Metropolis in North America.” And not even that Jim Carrey, Mike Meyers, Alanis Morissette, Eric McCormack, Howie Mandel and Rachel McAdams all hail from here, either.
[No air conditioning? This salad will cool you down on those 30C days!]
Nope, the most prominent feature of summertime in Toronto is the all encompassing, overwhelming, whacks-you-in-the-face-the-instant-you-exit-the-air-conditioning, humidity. And as it happened during that first summer in our shoebox abode, the city suffered one of its hottest seasons in decades. With no air conditioning in the house, we were forced to rely on that age-old standard, the electric fan.
Here’s the scene: it’s 11:30 PM, and the temperature is still hovering around 30C (86F), 40C with the humidex. At the foot of the queen-sized futon (which on its own nearly fills the room) sits a dresser on which is perched two fans, one trained on me, one on the HH. In addition, a ceiling fan spins at high speed through the night, slightly off balance and wobbling like a magician’s spinning plate trick. To complete the fan club*, a free-standing fan is positioned on the floor off to the side so it sweeps across our bed every ten seconds or so. We settle down for the night.
But we don’t sleep. Even with our own little self-constructed Jet Stream, we endured a hellish, fitful seven hours, tossing and turning and perspiring so much that by morning our bed was practically transformed into a private indoor wading pool. (Okay, I exaggerate–but just a little. The upside, I suppose, is that I lost 2 pounds that night).
Happily, our current rental home came equipped with A/C, and, despite any residual guilt about the environment or the increased costs in summer (further enhanced this year by the lovely HST), we are glad we can use it when the humidex reaches 43C (110F), as it did last week. And The Girls appreciate it, too.
“Yes, Mum, we do appreciate it. And since we have no sweat glands, it’s especially nice to be able to inhale that cool air from the vents and pant to lower our body temperatures. We like swimming, too–just don’t put us anywhere near that ’pool’ you just mentioned. Gross!”
This type of heat leads to lethargy; add to that my marking-induced stupor and I just haven’t felt like cooking.
Enter salads!
Since we’ve been eating salad almost exclusively throughout the past week, I thought I’d highlight a few of my very favorites over the next few days. To begin, today’s installment is a long-time standard from my friend and colleague Caroline Dupont’s cookbook. Ever since I attended Caroline’s raw cooking classes back in nutrition school, I’ve loved this salad , a staple in our house over the warmer months. I can’t believe I haven’t posted it before this!
The lively mélange of colorful, fresh and crispy vegetables and fruit marries beautifully with the slightly sweet and tart dressing. Although I’m not a fan of fresh fennel, the ground fennel in this dressing adds just the perfect whisper of licorice to complement the juicy sweetness of the apples. Every mouthful offers up a different parade of colors, flavors and textures to treat your palate to some first-class, sparkly raw gustatory entertainment (and a whole rainbow of antioxidants and healthy fats to boot). And it’s ready in around 10 minutes–without heat or any real physical exertion (except for the chewing–of which there will be quite a bit, I wager).
The original recipe calls for raisins (I included them in the photo, which was the HH’s serving), and feel free to use them if you’re not following an anti-candida diet (which would be, um, the other 99.9% of you out there?). For those of us restricted to candida-busting regimens, there’s an ACD-friendly variation following.
* Sorry. I had to.
Today’s Question: What’s your favorite cooling meal in summer?
* * * * * * * * * *
Fruity Slaw (aka Cabbage Delight) for ACD Phase I & Beyond
2 cups (480 ml) green or red cabbage, shredded, or a combination
3/4 cup (180 ml) broccoli or cauliflower, chopped
1/4 cup (60 ml) sweet onion, chopped
1 rib celery, diced
1 large carrot, grated
1/2 cup (120 ml) fresh parsley, chopped
1 medium apple (I used Crispin), cored and diced
1/2 cup (120 ml) raisins or currants, optional
1/2 cup (120 ml) pecans or walnuts, lightly toasted
In a large bowl, combine dressing ingredients and whisk to combine. Add vegetables and toss to coat. Sprinkle with raisins and walnuts. Makes 4-6 servings. Will keep, covered in the refrigerator, up to 3 days.
*For ACD Stage 1, substitute fresh lemon juice for the apple cider vinegar and 5-8 drops plain liquid stevia for the agave. If you’re not having fruit, omit the raisins and apple , and sub grape tomatoes, if desired.
[Update, April 15, 2010: Did you know that Ellen Degeneres has read my cookbook?? Waaa-hooo! I could not be more thrilled, especially since I'm sure she noticed because of ourEL-LENd Me a Hand campaign!! THANK YOU a million times to everyone who has been participating so far! Now I'm more determined than ever to bring healthy, vegan sweets to The Ellen Show--so let's keep at it! To see how you can help (and win a free cookbook), please check this page. Yee-haw!! ]
I. Relationships: You win some, you lose some.
After my marriage to the Starter Husband imploded, I wasn’t much in the mood for dating (actually, that’s quite the litotes: I didn’t even attempt another date for about 4-1/2 years). When I finally did feel ready to dip my toes into the relationship sea (where there are, after all, plenty of fish), seems the guys weren’t quite ready for me. After signing up for an online dating service, answering dozens of newspaper personal ads (do those even still exist?), welcoming every fix up that friends offered to arrange, or accepting any and every blind date (including one guy who was, literally, a blind date), I still found myself single, unattached, solo, solitary, on the lookout, on my own. Oh, and I hadn’t met anybody, either.
I had, however, encountered every personality type, height, style of male hair and facial stubble, attitude toward “who pays/opens doors/orders dinner,” and pickup line out there (a personal favorite: “How about coming back to my place and sharing a can of ravioli?”). I had also strolled through the park at 3:00 AM on on my first date with Crazy Inventor Guy (badRicki! Bad girl! Luckily, he was innocuous–and eventually became a great friend); shared a picnic with Farmboy from Calgary (did you know that I have eyes just like a cow’s?); co-hosted a martini party with Mr. Evolved Male (who, sadly, was hit upon repeatedly by my gay friend M, while M assured me, “Of course he’s gay. I know these things”);** spent hours on the phone with The Mogul (since he was eternally travelling the globe on business), only to meet him in person and be really, really sorry I couldn’t somehow force myself to like him (but–his own plane!! A yacht! Jetting to England at a moment’s notice!!); and ultimately wasteddevotedsquandered spent 3 months embroiled with Rocker Guy (he of the black leather pants) only to discover he’d been cheating on me pretty much the whole time we were together.
Eventually, I decided, “You win some–and you lose some.” I stopped worrying about it.
And then–poof!–out of nowhere, I met the HH.
Win!
II. Restaurants: You win some, you lose some.
Ever since I began the ACD last year, I’ve been on a mission to find restaurants that can accommodate my dietary restrictions. Luckily, I’ve discoveredtwo or three, and the HH and I tend to frequent those establishments regularly. On our recent vacation in Florida, I was elated to discover Wish, where I enjoyed a tasting menu of four vegetarian dishes.
Win!
Then, for our anniversary last week (and thanks again for all the good wishes!), the HH and I had our hearts set on our favorite special occasion place. Eating at this place is like splurging on that adorable Christian Lacroix jacket at Holt’s–you really can’t afford to do it very often (in fact, we do it only once a year–usually on our anniversary), but boy, is it worth it.
At least, until this last time.
Normally at our annual visit, I enjoy the portobello “steak” (marinated mushroom), but since fungi are a no-no on the ACD, I called in advance to ensure there would be something I could eat. And since the HH and I are such long-standing patrons there, I thought the place would be willing to accommodate. ”No problem,” the lovely hostess told me on the phone. “See you Saturday evening.”
First course: baby spinach salad with green apple and pine nuts. So far, so good.
Then came the main course. I was given (with impeccable service, mind you) a slab of grilled sweet potato draped over a mix of grilled chickpeas, puy lentils, sautéed, spinach and white asparagus. (Looks eerily like a piece of salmon, doesn’t it?)
To be fair, the sides–as usual–were astoundingly good. If I could figure out how to reproduce those grilled chickpeas, I could die a happy woman. But, um, excuse me? A piece of sweet potato as a main dish? This is the best they could come up with?
LOSE. (Or, to use twitter parlance, FAIL. And Epic Fail, at that.)
True, they almost redeemed themselves with our desserts–mine, a simple bowl of fresh berries. But behold the presentation:
Nevertheless, we are seriously re-thinking whether or not we’ll continue to patronize the place.
III. Recipes: You win some, you lose some.
With cooking, as well, there are the “let’s-pop-the-cork,” “you-just-won-the-lottery,” “you-came-first-in-your-class,” “you-mean-the-size-eight-is-too-big?” types of successes, as well as the brilliant failures. To wit, a recent comment from Michelle made my day; she asked about how I create recipes. The comment concluded this way: ”Always love your recipes, Ricki! You must spend a lot of time developing them? I’m curious!” Of course, that got me thinking about my process of recipe creation.
Depending on the recipe, I do, indeed, sometimes spend a lot of time creating it. My soy-free whipped cream, for instance, was tested about 50 times before it hit my cookbook. Sometimes I chronicle the various iterations of a recipe, as when I wrote about chocolate pecan pie. Other times, I hit on a recipe on the first go-round (though that is a rarity). In other words, you win some and you lose some. (Happily, the difference between recipe creation and dating is that you can throw away the loser recipes).
In a recent issue of the McDougall newsletter, I noticed a reworked recipe for this salad from Martha Stewart’s website. This is my own remake of the remake (sort of like Canadian Idol–you know, a poor imitation of American Idol, which was an imitation of–and has since surpassed–the original Pop Idol). Only this time, the salad was a total success. Not only that, it worked out perfectly–on the first try.
BIG WIN!
Like the spring air, this salad is characterized by crispness and the heady aroma of tender green shoots. The sprouts are both crunchy and juicy, complemented perfectly by the natural sugar of the peas and lemon scented tang of the creamy dressing. The original recipe called for raw, julienned asparagus spears, but the HH refused to even taste it unless I steamed them first; next time, I’ll stick with the raw, as I’m sure the salad would be even more appealing that way. As it was, we managed to polish it off in two meals, and wished there were more.
“Hey, Elsie–oops, I mean, Ellen, I guess we could apply this principle to anything, couldn’t we? Like, say, treats: you win some, you lose some. Or frisbee: you win some, you lose some! Or how about–”
“Zip it, Chaser. Sisters: you win some, you lose some. *Sigh.*”
**No, Mr. Evolved Male didn’t end up dating my gay friend. In fact, he reconciled with his former girlfriend shortly after that party. (You win some. . . ).
Remarkably quick to make, this fresh, crisp, quintessentially springtime salad is a perfect first course. I streamlined the recipe even more by using a flavorful nut-based mayo as the only dressing ingredient–it was sensational.
2 Tbsp (10 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
1/4-1/2 cup (60-120 ml) water or unsweetened soymilk, as needed
freshly ground pepper, to taste
For the salad:
3/4 cup (180 ml) fresh shelled peas or frozen peas, defrosted
1 bunch asparagus (about 1 lb or 500 g), lightly steamed or raw, cut into thin strips or shredded
4 ounces (120 g) pea shoots or sprouts (about 4 cups/1 liter)
Make the dressing: place all ingredients in a high powered blender (start with 1/4 cup or 60 ml liquid) and blend until perfectly smooth. Add pepper and blend again.
Place the peas, asparagus and pea shoots in a large bowl. Add the dressing and toss to coat everything evenly. Taste and adjust seasonings. Makes 4-6 servings. Will keep, covered, in refrigerator up to 2 days.
I was thrilled that the HH and I were invited to twoseders this year (sorry, Girls). But after being delighted at my friends’ generosity, I panicked when I realized that most Passover food, besides being meat and poultry-heavy, is also full of eggs and gluten (not to mention sugar and honey)! Immediately, I decided to bring something along that I could eat–and that everyone else could enjoy, too.
I was surprised at how many DDD recipes are Passover-friendly (no grain, no gluten, no leavening, no beans or legumes, and a few other restrictions). Here’s a little roundup for those of you who follow Passover traditions (and even those who don’t!) and are looking for something delicious and healthy to cook up.
“Mum, maybe we can’t come to the seder, but would you mind bringing home some leftovers? That kale saladis way more tasty than this kong.”
After that harrowing ordeal in the airport and the relentless carnival atmosphere of Miami Beach in the first half of our trip, the HH and I were more than ready to head north to Sarasota, where my cousin Marketing Guru (MG) had promised a more serene lifestyle. So let’s hit the road, shall we?
I. En Route to Sarasota: See Ya Later, Alligator
[Can you believe how many alligators live along this stretch of Florida highway?? Me, neither. (Source)].
Leaving Miami, we headed along interstate Route 75, also known as “Alligator Alley.” This 200-mile (320 km) stretch of highway dissecting the Everglades offers the curious sightseer but one image: a seemingly endless vista of flat terrain dotted with the occasional tawny brush, swampland on either side, and a veritable army of alligators poised on either shore, patiently awaiting their lunch (human, perhaps?), effectively sporting their green leathery camouflage. I tried over and over to snap a photo as we whizzed by the monochromatic scenery, to capture only this:
[Can you spot the alligator in this photo? Me, neither.]
Finally, after about 2 hours without pit stops, bathroom breaks, or any other signs of civilized life, we lit upon Naples, then continued right through to Sarasota (with a quick rest stop at a local Sheraton Four Points Punta Gorda).
II. Sarasota: Feed Me!
I was initially a little wary before our reunion with MG,whom I hadn’t seen in about 10 years. It was also the first time I really got to know MG’s wife (MGW), with whom I’d never really spent any quality time. I shouldn’t have fretted: they were both incredibly hospitable, gracious and welcoming, and we four hit it off famously. I mean, for our first dinner out, MG suggested Chutney’s (“where spice is the variety of life”), primarily because “they have a daily vegetarian option.” (Is he a great guy, or what?) The combination Indian and Mediterranean menu provided more than enough choice for this Canuck gal. Thanks, cuz!
A cozy, unassuming atmosphere beckoned and the food, both homey and creative, was excellent. My pick (of course) was the vegetarian curry of the day (with chickpeas and vegetables) along with a hefty portion of the Mediterranean appetizer plate shared by us all (including baba ganouj, hummus, tahini and falafel). We did manage to get back to the house in time for an hour of ice dancing* before falling into bed. All in all, a great first evening!
III. Sarasota: Come Over Here and Give Me a Pug.
One of Sarasota’s most quirky public events is known as the ”Pug Parade.” For this annual festival, every dog owner in the city–nay, the state (and beyond) dresses up her or his pug, then sashays along a runway with said costumed canine to determine which will win the Dog Owner with Way Too Much Time on Their Hands award. (Okay, I made up that last part. But they do choose a winner for best dog costume.).
Well, as it turned out by sheer coincidence, the HH and I arrived on the selfsame weekend as this year’s parade! And by even greater coincidence, Marketing Guru and MGW have a pug! And her name is Misty! And Misty is a former Pug Parade Champion!
Needless to say, we attended this year’s Pug Parade.
Milling about under a massive tent in the center of a local park, I have never seen so many pugs in one place, let alone so many pugs in wildly creative costumes (biker pug with actual tatoos; sushi pug rolled into a giant nori roll; bride pug with bouquet and groom pug; geisha pug; birthday cake pug; ballerlina pug, Tiger Woods pug, Lady GaGa pug, Bug Pug, and any other kind of pug you can imagine). Misty, this time round, was dressed as Pugahontas. Ain’t she cute?
[Can you spot the alligator in this photo? It's right there in front, dressed up as a pug.]
Though she didn’t win this time round, Misty did receive a huge round of applause and several hoots.
Later, as we drove through the idyllic neighborhood with its palm tree-lined streets and placid parklands, the HH and I both marvelled at how beautiful the area was. A planned community, almost the entire city had been built from scratch.
“Oh, when we first moved in, there were still lots of alligators roaming the streets,” MGW told us. “And wild boars everywhere.” Alligators? Wild boars?
I nodded politely. “Wow,” I said. “You guys are brave to have moved here back then. Good thing the alligators have all gone now.”
“Well, not really,” she countered. “They just hang around the ponds now. You can usually spot a few at each pond.” Given there were ponds at just about every intersection, and given I had not yet spied a single solitary alligator with my own eyes, I remained incredulous. We approached another pond.
“Here, take my binoculars,” MGW urged as Marketing Guru slowed the car. I peered through the lenses at the not-so-distant shore. And. . . what the–?? That dark olive-grey mass in front of the trees. . . by George, it WAS an alligator! But wait! There were two more masses beside it, just over there to the right. . . ! And what was that further down the shore–??!! I could feel my skin begin to tingle.
“They stay still during the day, but they generally come out at night,” MGW informed us. “Don’t worry, though, they don’t come up to the houses. . . well, not anymore.”
And just like that, there went my dreams of moving to Sarasota.
Our pre-performance dinner that night took place at Tropical Thai, another quaint spot that served up surprisingly good food. I was, again, surprised and delighted with the number of vegan options (there was even an entire page of Macrobiotic dishes!). I opted for miso soup, followed by a red curry with vegetables and tofu–not as tasty as the previous night’s Indian curry, but satisfying nonetheless.
Then, it seemed, just as we began to really relax and feel at home,** it was suddenly time to return to Toronto. Here we are now, a week after our return, and it feels as if we never left. And as a bonus, we were greeted last week with the biggest snowstorm so far this season. As Pepé le Pew would say, Le sigh.
["Mum, it definitely felt like you left to us. And don't worry about the snow--at least you won't find any alligators living in this climate!]
Well, if I can’t physically remain in Florida, at least I can travel back along the highway of gustatory imagination. I decided to recreate the delectable butternut-edamame hash I savored at Wish in Miami. With small, uniform cubes of roasted butternut squash cozying up to perky green edamame, both awash in a slightly gooey, slightly sweet maple glaze, this hash was the epitome of clean and delicious fare. I had to have it again!
My version uses yacon as a standin for maple syrup in the original, though you should feel free to swap it back if you prefer the latter or can’t find the former (unless you’re also on the ACD, that is, in which case, sorry–maple syrup is verboten).
The bright hues and fresh flavors of this dish are guaranteed to bring a little bit of Florida sunshine into your mealtime. And no alligators, I promise.
*That would be, “watching it on TV,” not “doing it.”
**Not that I’d ever get used to the alligators, however.
Butternut and Edamame Hash (suitable for ACD Phase I or later)
With its combination of sweet squash, chewy edamame and sticky glaze, this high-protein dish makes a perfect accompaniment to any savory main course.
1 small butternut squash, peeled and seeded, cut into 1″ (2.5 cm) cubes
2 Tbsp (30 ml) extra virgin olive oil
1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) fine sea salt
1 cup (240 ml) shelled, cooked edamame
2 Tbsp (30 ml) yacon syrup and 3 Tbsp (30 ml) water OR 1/4 cup (60 ml) pure maple syrup
1 small clove garlic, minced
1 Tbsp (15 ml) toasted sesame oil
1 tsp (5 ml) arrowroot powder or cornstarch blended with 1/4 cup (60 ml) water until smooth
1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) maple flavoring (if using yacon syrup), optional
pinch fine sea salt
Preheat oven to 400F (200C). Line a large baking sheet with parchment paper, or spray with olive oil spray. Also spray a casserole or square pan and set aside.
Place the raw squash cubes in a large bowl and drizzle with the olive oil and salt. Toss with your (clean) hands until all the pieces are coated evenly. Spread the squash on the baking sheet in a single layer. Bake for 35-45 minutes, until the cubes are just tender. Remove the squash and reduce the oven heat to 350F (180C).
Meanwhile, in a small pot, combine the yacon/water or maple syrup, garlic, sesame oil and arrowroot mixture until well blended. Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until the mixture boils and bubbles; continue to cook and stir for 30 seconds, until thick. Remove from heat and stir in the maple flavoring, if using; season with more sea salt to taste.
Place the squash cubes and edamame in the reserved casserole dish and pour the glaze over them; toss with a large spoon or spatula until all the squares are coated. Reheat in the oven until everything is warmed through, about 10 minutes. Stir again before serving. Makes 4 side servings.
[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).]
While reading other blogs lately, I’ve noticed an increase in the number of savory breakfast recipes. Having been on the ACD as long as I have (longer than some Hollywood marriages, longer than Edge of Darkness was in movie theaters, longer than a piece of Stride gum’s flavor, longer than the beards on those ZZ Top guys), I’ve been enjoying savory breakfasts for some time. But it does feel great to know that so many of you are willing to give them a try, too!
When I saw this recipe for Egyptian fava beans, I knew I had to try it. It’s a variation on Ethiopian ful, about which I’d read many years ago–and have wanted to sample since. In fact, I’ve wanted to try fava beans in general for ages, but have been deterred (now, don’t laugh) because they still hold such negative connotations since I saw the original Silence of the Lambs. I just couldn’t bring myself to attempt something that was so relished by Hannibal Lecter.
Get over it, I told myself. These are friendly fava beans. And no liver in sight.
And so, I cooked up the dish. I mean, the recipe seemed so good and so easy, I jumped right in–fava beans be damned! (If only all phobias could be overcome so easily.). This dish is made with dried favas (versus the Martian-green fresh ones, which are obviously not in season about now). I must admit that I cut corners and used canned favas–I knew they had to be well-cooked, and didn’t want to risk messing up my first attempt. Next time, I’ll buy the dried beans and soak ‘em first.
While not quite as spicy as ful, this dish is certainly rich with flavor. The favas are a bit more starchy than your average legume, which made them even more breakfast-like in my mind; though, of course, you could eat this at any meal. At the same time, they’re packed with nutrition: one cup of cooked favas provides a whopping 13 grams of protein, 9 grams of fiber, almost no fat, and 14% of your daily iron. Their flavor is a bit unusual, slightly sour–almost fermented–yet creamy, satisfying and addictive all at the same time. And considering I ate almost the entire plate in one sitting, I’d say they grew on me pretty quickly.
I had mine with Meghan’s version of “instant injera“–a quick and delicious, high-protein, flatbread. Overall, a delicious, savory breakfast–one that won’t leave you craving dessert!
I’m thrilled that I can finally submit this as an entry in River‘s E.A.T. World event–check out all of River’s amazing international dishes (and why not submit one of your own?)!
Side note: this is my last post before the HH and I head out on holiday for a week–to Florida! I was determined to spend at least some time in a warmer climate during my vacation from the college this year, and since my dad is there at the moment, it seemed a perfect destination. Thanks to everyone on twitter who recommended restaurants for this fast-food challenged gal.
Not sure whether or not I’ll be able to update from the road, so I’ll leave you with this nourishing breakfast (or lunch, or dinner) until I return.
See you all in about a week!
xo Ricki
Egyptian Fava Beans (ACD-friendly: Phase I or later)
1-1/4 cups (300 ml) dried fava beans, rinsed and soaked in cold water for at least 12 hours with 1 Tbsp (15 ml) baking soda (or just use canned, rinsed beans, as I did)
2 Tbsp (30 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
1 large onion, finely chopped
1 large garlic clove, minced
1 large tomato, finely chopped (seeded if you want to be fancy)
1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) fine sea salt (or to taste)
pepper, to taste
1 small jalapeno pepper, sliced (remove seeds for less heat)
freshly squeezed lemon juice, to taste
Drain the beans and rinse well; place in a pot and cover with fresh water. Bring to boil, then lower heat and simmer until extremely soft. At this point, you should peel the waxy skin off each bean if you like (not essential, but much better as the skins are quite chewy). Simply squeeze one tip of each bean until the bean pops out of the skin (tutorial here). (I did this with the precooked, canned beans, and it worked perfectly.)
Heat the olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat and add the onion; cook for about 5 minutes, until it begins to soften. Add the garlic and cook, stirring frequently, until onion is soft and just beginning to brown. Add about half the beans to the skillet and mash with a wooden spoon or spatula to create a bean-onion mush. Add the remaining (whole) beans, tomato, and heat through. Season to taste with salt and pepper, and toss the jalapeno slices over all just before serving.
To serve, sprinkle the beans with fresh lemon juice (I used the juice of 1/2 lemon) and drizzle with extra olive oil, if desired. Best served with flatbread. Makes 2 large servings.
Most of us are familiar with George Bernard Shaw’s dictum, “Youth is wasted on the young.” Well, of course I realized that saying was just a bunch of bunk. . . until I hit 40, that is. At that point, I realized, “Oh, woe, why did I waste my youth on being young??”
There’s no denying we live in a youth-obsessed culture, one in which the elderly are given little if any respect or recognition (though I bet that will all change once Baby Boomers reach their 70s and 80s. . . they do tend to take over everything, don’t they?).
It’s a truism to say that when a woman reaches her 40s (unless she’s a Cougar like Courtney Cox-Arquette), she becomes more or less invisible to the opposite sex. (Seriously. I’ve walked across the street from a bevy of construction workers in shorts and a T-shirt, with nary a glance. The Girls got more flirting than I did!). And why do we stuff the elderly into homes with only each other, like a clothing store full of only black socks–and no other varieties? (When I was last in Montreal, The CFO and I visited a retirement residence into which my dad is considering moving. While the place was modern, clean and provided roomy apartments, good food, and weekly entertainment, his first comment upon leaving the building was, “It’s okay. . . but they’re all so old.” This from a guy who’s 88! Truly, if I inherit even half of my dad’s health and longevity genes, I’ll be a lucky woman, indeed.)
I suppose it’s inevitable that “old” becomes synonymous with “useless” in a culture that builds obsolescence into most inventions. Last week I heard a radio interview by Jian Ghomeshi of CBC’s Q (Jian, you know that I have a massive crush on you, the likes of which I haven’t seen since I was fourteen, right? And that I’m dying to be interviewed on your show, right? I’d be a terrific guest, really. I’ll even bake brownies.).
Jian interviewd Anna Jane Grossman, author of Obsolete: An Encyclopedia of Once-Common Things Passing Us By. Her focus (and she’s barely reached the tail end of her twenties) was items that have already become outdated within our lifetimes. Think eight-track tapes (and, bringing up a close second, video casettes); think cursive writing (and the poor profs who have to mark hand-written exams they can’t decipher); think corner phone booths (sorry, Superman, you’ll just have to stay on Krypton, because over here, you’re out of a change room); think Mix Tapes (and the recurring pleasure you experience from seeing a friend’s handwriting on the song list–well, if you can decipher it); and, perhaps most alarming, think “looking old” (how about Melanie Griffith, Madonna, Mary Tyler Moore or Mickey Rourke? They may not look old, but they don’t exactly look human, either). In our culture, many inventions are superannuated even before some of us can learn to use them (yes, I admit, I still don’t text message).
Well, the recipe for this kugel (really a savory bread pudding) is old. Really old. And, frankly, I still adore it. It was my mom’s recipe, which she got from her mom, who got it from her mom. . . and so on.
This kugel doesn’t include any modern ingredients or preparation methods. You won’t find wasabi paste, matcha green tea powder, or pink sea salt in this baby. You won’t need a hand blender, food processor, or VitaMix to make it. It’s entirely an old-fashioned recipe.
Given my ancestors’ humble Russian beginnings, the ingredients are more reflective of what one might find in a cold-climate farm at the outset of autumn: root vegetables, bread, eggs (which I’ve omitted, of course). And yet, even without flashy ingredients, even without any spiciness or too many seasonings (except fresh dill), this kugel is delicious and remains a long-standing favorite in my home.
The pudding is moist and flavorful, firm in the middle, with low-key flecks of grated carrot, chopped celery and yellow onion. The exterior browns up to a crisp, bronzed crust (in fact, my sisters and I used to wait until Mom placed the platter of kugel on the table, hefty slices piled high, then all pounce at once to be the first to grab a corner piece, as those attained the greatest crust-to-filling ratio after baking).
The dish is quick, easy, and comforting. Great for a holiday (such as the just-passed Rosh Hashanah or the upcoming Thanksgiving) or simply a quiet meal at home. And unlike some other aspect of modern life, the final result will never go out of style.
“Mum, don’t feel bad about that lack of whistles now that you’re. . . um. . . older. I’m sure that if you walked around sans clothing like Elsie and I do, you’d get lots of attention, too.”
My Mother’s Vegetable Bread Kugel
A versatile dish that serves as a wonderful side dish, or can be wrapped and toted along for lunch the next day, eaten at room temperature.
3 Tbsp (45 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
2 large carrots, grated
2 stalks celery, diced
1 large onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 cups (480 ml) vegetable broth or stock, divided
1/3-1/2 cup (80-120 ml, to your taste) fresh dill, chopped
6-8 slices heavy, dense bread of choice, preferably a bit stale (I used a quinoa/millet loaf)
1 pkg (12 ounces or 375 g) Mori-Nu firm or extra firm silken tofu (or use regular silken tofu and decrease the broth by about 1/2 cup or 120 ml)
1/4 cup (60 ml) lightly toasted cashews, or cashew butter
2 Tbsp (30 ml) finely ground flax seeds
Pepper, to taste (add more salt if the broth wasn’t salty enough)
Preheat oven to 350F (180C). Line an 8 x 8″ (20 cm) square pan with parchment, or spray with nonstick spray.
In a large, heavy frypan, heat the oil over medium heat. Add the carrots, celery and onion and sauté until onion is translucent, 7-10 minutes. Add the garlic and cook another minute. Add 1 cup (240 ml) broth and the dill; cover and cook over low heat, stirring occasionally, until all the liquid is absorbed and the vegetables have taken on a golden sheen.
Meanwhile, either cut the bread into cubes or crumble in to a large bowl. Set aside.
In the bowl of a food processor, process the tofu, cashews, flax and remaining 1 cup (240 ml) broth, until very smooth and no traces of nuts are visible.
Turn the tofu mixture, along with the cooked vegetable mixture, into the bowl and stir until everything is well combined and all the bread is coated with the mixture. Smooth the top.
Bake in preheated oven for 30-45 minutes, turning once about halfway through, until edges are deep brown and crispy, and a tester inserted in the center comes out clean but moist. Allow to cool for 10-15 minutes before cutting into squares. Makes 9-12 servings. May be frozen.
) Your support is much appreciated, everyone!]
