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[Do you have any idea how scary it was to snap a closeup of this alligator?!
Me, neither. (Source)]
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.
IV. Sarasota, Sarasota: It’s a Wonderful Town!
As a perk of his position at the Sarasota Orchestra, MG was able to secure tickets to that weekend’s concert for the four of us (yippee!). On the playlist that evening were three performances: Bernstein’s “Three Dance Episodes from On the Town” (from which “New York, New York, It’s a Wonderful Town” originated); Barber’s “Violin Concerto Op. 14” performed by the young, critically acclaimed Elena Urioste (whose performances–both visual and aural–were stunning); and Saint-Saens’ “Symphony No. 3 in C Minor, Op. 78,” the organ symphony.
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)
inspired by a dish at Wish restaurant.
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.
Last Year at this Time: A break. But how about My Mother’s Potato Corn Chowder instead?
Two Years Ago: Bangkok Noodles with Cashews and Pineapple* (*Or, How to Get Your Meat-Loving Guy to Love a Vegan Meal)
© 2010 Diet, Dessert and Dogs
[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)
adapted from Vegetarian Bible: Fresh from the Garden
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.
Last Year at this Time: Of Pods and Poetry: Arame and Edamame Salad (and some gratis Haiku thrown in for good measure)
Two Years Ago: Juicy Cuisine and Crunchy Granola (sugar-free granola recipe at bottom).
© 2010 Diet, Dessert and Dogs
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.
Last Year at this Time: Pear and Parsnip Soup
© 2009 Diet, Dessert and Dogs
[With baked beets and avocado over mesclun greens]
For those of you who’ve decided, as I have, to really appreciate the home front this Labor Day weekend (read: can’t afford to go away), hope you’re enjoying some wonderful weather! If you’re in the Toronto area, drop by to see me and say “hi” at Ambrosia Natural Foods, any time between noon and 4:00 PM. I’ll be offering books and samples of baked goods from Sweet Freedom. And don’t forget that you’ve got only two more days to enter the Simply Bar giveaway! Just click here for details.
Speaking of weather, guess what? It’s summer again! Yep, after a sodden, gloomy June, July and August (okay, maybe there was one day of sunshine), this past week has awarded us with brilliantly sapphire skies and lovely, mellow heat–and Mother Nature’s surprise gift is expected to keep on giving through the weekend.
Am I fixated on the weather? Well, I’m Canadian, aren’t I?
Apart from our legendary politeness and steady stream of Canadian expat comedians now in the US, Canadians are also known worldwide for their perverse preoccupation with the weather. No matter the season, no matter the temperature, no matter the individuals, talk of the climate seems to infiltrate any and all conversations and contexts. To wit:
Scene One. April. Bob and Doug meet on the street.
Bob: Hey, how about those Blue Jays, eh?
Doug: Blue Jays? Are you kidding? It was coming down cats and dogs last night. The game was rained out. Grrr-crappy weather!
Scene Two. December. Sterlin and Ricki meet on the street.
Sterlin: Hi, Ric! Merry Christmas! Hope you and the HH got some great gifts!
Ricki: Gifts? Ha! As if Santa could make it to our house through all that sleet and snow! Crappy weather. *sigh.*
Scene Three. March. Kate and Alex sit on the couch after a romantic interlude.
Alex: Kate, I love you. You are “the one.” You complete me. Will you marry me?
Kate: Marry? Are you kidding? As if anyone could count on a decent Saturday to hold a wedding in June! Crappy weather.
Scene Four. July. Don and Roger meet on the street after lunch.
Don: How was the planning meeting this morning?
Roger: Er, I don’t really know. I noticed it was sunny outside and hightailed it to the park–I mean, it was sunny outside! Can’t afford to waste a single sunny moment in this town. Crappy weather.
You get the idea. And really, Roger has a point. With the last few days in Toronto being bright and balmy, I’ve been spending as much time as possible outdoors–which means very little cooking going on here at the DDD household. But don’t despair–there are always salads and other raw foods!
This dish is one I first noticed on Michelle’s blog some time ago. I think it perfectly straddles the limbo between summer and fall (sort of like wearing darker tights with those light summer skirts to tide you over until you pull out your winter wardrobe). I love beets and had never eaten raw beet greens, so I couldn’t wait to give this a try.
I haven’t always been a lover of the crimson root, however. And the HH is painfully blunt in his assessment that “beets taste like dirt.”
[With beet greens and raw, grated beets. Does this look like dirt to you?]
You see, my mother–an excellent baker, but only passable cook–would save a jar of beet borscht for those evenings when she arrived home from shopping or mah jong and didn’t have enough time to whip up a proper dinner. On those occasions, she’d pop open the lid of the borscht jar she kept in the fridge, pour the chunky liquid into a bowl and swirl in a generous dollop of sour cream. For my dad, a bowl of cold borscht with a thick slice of pumpernickel bread constituted a perfectly acceptable dinner (he’s from Poland; pink soup with shreds of beet floating in it doesn’t seem weird to him). To me, however, the resulting fuscia broth appeared far too reminiscent of Pepto Bismol. Combined with the sweet-and-sour odor of the stuff, it was enough to clamp my throat and cause my stomach to lurch. No wonder I didn’t eat beets again until my 40s.
After attending nutrition school and learning about the myriad health benefits of beets, however, I decided I had to give them another try. Besides being a great source of fiber, Vitamin C, iron and potassium, beets also help decrease inflammation in the body, prevent heart disease, and help tone the liver. In other words, they’re a “nutrient dense” food, one that provides a higher degree of nutritional punch than other foods with a similar calorie content.
Even the HH loved this salad; we ate it three times in as many weeks. When I made it for the fourth time a few days ago, the weather contributed its own influence and I decided to try it without baking the beets first, but simply peeling and grating them raw. The result was equally delicious, with the juicy, sweet crunch of the raw root commingling happily with the crisp greens.
We’ve also had this salad with chunks of avocado tossed in at the last minute simply because it was at its peak of ripeness, adding a smooth, subtle richness that balanced well with the sour note of the citrus dressing. On another occasion, the salad worked well using mesclun greens instead of beet greens when the latter weren’t available.
Serve this as the first course at dinner, or use it as a light supper all on its own–then run out and enjoy the last vestiges of summer before it evaporates once again.
Grrr–crappy weather!
“Mum, that was just a joke about Santa not making it to our house, right? I mean, we’ll still get our usual Christmas treats this year, won’t we?”
Beet the Heat and Mint Salad
adapted from Find Your Balance
The combination of sweet beets and crisp, crunchy greens is a winner in this quick and easy salad. Toss in some toasted walnut halves or sprinkle with hemp seeds for a light summer dinner.
2 pounds (about 1 kg) fresh beets with greens (scrub beets and wash greens; discard thick stems)
1/2 cup (120 ml) unpacked fresh mint leaves, rinsed and chopped
juice of 1 small lemon
juice of 1 lime
1 tsp (5 ml) Sucanat or 5 drops stevia liquid
1 Tbsp (15 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
1 Tbsp (15ml) hemp seeds, if desired
salt and pepper to taste
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Line a pan with parchment paper. Bake the beets for about one hour, until fork-tender (you can wrap them in aluminum foil for baking if you like, but I don’t bother). Once cool, peel the beets and dice in chunks. Set aside. Alternately, peel the raw beets and grate on the large holes of a box grater; set aside.
Meanwhile, wash and dry the beet greens. Chop into bite-sized pieces.
Place the greens, beets, and mint in a large bowl. Add the lemon juice, lime juice, Sucanat, olive oil and hemp seeds, if using. Toss well and season with salt and pepper. Makes 4 servings. Will keep, covered, in the refrigerator one day.
Last Year at this Time: Jalapeno Pesto Pizza
© 2009 Diet, Dessert and Dogs
[As promised, today I'm posting a giveaway along with this recipe. Who knew there were so many Larabar fans out there? But no, my friends, sorry to say that no one guessed the bar I'm giving away! (Though I did love Alex's suggestion that it might be one of The Girls' treats.). I'm guessing these bars are new to most of you. . .so get ready to be delighted, to be taste-tempted, and to become an instant fan! To learn more about the bars and the giveaway, go here. Then be sure to come back to leave a comment--and for this yummy recipe!]
Remember last week, when I crowed about summer finally arriving in Southern Ontario? Well, little did I know that that single day would constitute the entire season! As of this week, we’re waking up to a distinct chill under ever-darkening skies; there’s condensation on my car windows when I slip into the driver’s seat; and the air has that crisp, hollow clarity that seems to catapult sounds exponentially, even across mountains (not that there are any mountains in our little suburb, of course, but you get the idea).
Huh? Where did our summer go this year?
This type of weather always brings to mind a course in oil painting I took back in tenth grade (my brain tends to free associate that way). With my high school art teacher’s encouragement and visions of a really hip garret in my mind, I rode the Number 17 bus across town for an hour each way every Thursday evening to sit at my easel and soak up instruction about rendering depth, shadows, perspective. . . and to paint nude models. Yep, this little 15 year-old moi was mighty shocked, I must confess, at the cavalier nature with which those women threw off their cover sheets and posed in any variety of positions for us novice painters (as I recall, I came down with a cold the evening of the male model class. . .but in reality, I was probably too freaked out to attend. Ah, sweet and innocent youth!).
One of the things I loved most about oil painting was the pigments themselves, the linimint smell and gooey texture, and the magical, musical names by which they were known: Burnt Umber. Burnt Sienna. Cerulean Blue. Cadmium Red. Cadmium Yellow. Yellow Ochre. I loved the cadences in the sounds and the appearance of the hues just out of the tubes–deep, intense versions of the real-life counterparts (sort of like using super-saturation when you doctor your blog photos–except real!). For some reason (perhaps the fact that I was born in the fall), the warming reds, oranges and yellows were most appealing to me, and I often painted with those.
Suddenly, all around our neighborhood are reminders of my foray into oil painting: amid the remnants of green, the trees are beginning to sport their fall finery, festooned with splashes of ochre, rust and crimson, all vying for prominence on the branches.
So when I served dinner to a couple of old friends last night, I thought this warm summer salad would be perfect. Leaning heavily on the emeralds of June and July, highlighted with the yellows of August and September, this dish bridges the short divide between summer and fall as the weather extends its first chilly grip (or would that be grippe?) on Ontario’s resentful denizens.
Remember that high school reunion I attended back in May? Well, ever since then, I’ve planned to get together with my old friend The Poet. The Poet (so named because he penned the poem that graced our yearbook’s cover page) and I were best buds back in high school and through our undergraduate years. He helped me survive those boyfriendless undergraduate years without feeling like too much of a social outcast, by providing a Saturday night perma-date. A contemplative, sensitive soul, TP could also be uproariously funny and always cracked me up.
Eventually, we lost touch. We had neither seen nor heard from each other until the reunion. Just as Sterlin and I were loitering around the hotel lobby after checkin, I heard a distinctive bellow: “Ricki Heller, I’d recognize you anywhere!” and turned to see none other than TP. (On one hand, I was flattered to hear this; I suppose it means I look sort of the same as I did in high school. On the other hand, I was a bit aggrieved to hear this. I mean, do I look the same as I did in high school??).
And while many of us that weekend promised to get together once we were back in the city, I really meant it when I vowed to contact The Poet again. And so, last evening, he and another old high school chum came to dinner.
This dish was one of the dinner’s highlights. Also featured were a terrific leafy green salad with roasted peppers and “goat cheese” (recipe anon); herbed sweet potato fries; raw almond-veggie pâté; and (for me) herbed walnut burgers (another recipe I’ll post soon) plus salmon for the guys. For dessert, I served the chocolate layer cake with chocolate buttercream frosting from Sweet Freedom** and filled it with sweet potato buttercream (a huge hit).
I based this recipe very loosely on one I came across in the Australia Women’s Weekly Vegetarian Cookbook, a salad called “Hot Spinach and Pea Salad” (even though the actual recipe lists chard, not spinach, in the ingredients!). Since I am wont to wax poetic about all things antipodean (I know, it’s more like, ”wax pathetic”), it makes sense I’d veer toward this dish. But I’ve made so many changes to the original, I consider it entirely mine now.
The salad can be served warm or at room temerature (I actually prefer the latter) and features a truly resplendent display of autumnal greens and golds. The flavors are mild and pleasing, without a sharp sting of garlic or spice; just a flavorsome combination of Asian seasonings, just-soft zucchini, crunchy, juicy beans and plump, sweet peas.
Best of all, it only takes 10 minutes to make–so you can still run outside and catch the last few rays of that elusive summer sun.
**For those of you who have the book, be sure to check the correction here!
Gold and Green Warm Summer Salad
A warm, filling dish that can help you through the transition from summer to autumn. You can use edamame in place of the peas if you’d like to boost the protein for a main dish.
1 Tbsp (15 ml) sesame seeds, toasted
1 Tbsp (15 ml) coconut oil, preferably organic
1 clove garlic, minced
6 collard leaves, shredded
1 medium (250 g) yellow zucchini (summer squash)
2 cups (480 ml) fresh green beans, cut in half
1 cup (240 ml) fresh or frozen peas or shelled edamame, thawed
2 Tbsp (30 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
1 Tbsp (15 ml) Bragg’s liquid aminos or tamari soy sauce
1 Tbsp (15 ml) fresh lemon juice
1 tsp (5 ml) freshly grated ginger
salt and pepper to taste
In a large, heavy-bottomed pot or cast-iron skillet, melt the coconut oil over medium heat. Add the garlic and collard and sauté until greens are wilted. Add the zucchini, beans and peas and cook another 2-3 minutes.
Meanwhile, in a small bowl, whisk together the olive oil, Bragg’s, lemon juice and ginger. Pour the mixture over the vegetables in the pan and cook another 2-3 minutes, until warmed through. Add salt and pepper to taste. Sprinkle with sesame seeds just before serving. Makes 4 servings. May be frozen.
Last Year at this Time: Roasted Beet and Quinoa Salad
© 2009 Diet, Dessert and Dogs
[I thought it would be fun to run a little series over here at DDD: I'll profile one one of my favorite foods, or a food that I've recently discovered and enjoyed, over several days. For this fifth edition, I'm focusing on cilantro. The series is presented on an occasional (and entirely arbitrary) basis, before I move on to the next lucky comestible. This is the third entry on cilantro.]
Those of you who live in the GTA (Greater Toronto Area) will likely nod your heads and roll your eyes in empathy when I mention that we’ve been having terrifically odd weather this summer. One moment it’s sunny and arid as Las Vegas (minus the neon and replica Eiffel Tower, of course), the next as cold and damp as Dracula’s bedroom. This week, it’s hot and humid, with temperatures around the 25C (77F) mark, more typical of July in Toronto.
This year notwithstanding, I do love summer. As a teen, I was an avid devotee of sun worship (sounds like a cult, doesn’t it?). But with fears of overexposure, UV damage and skin cancers abounding these days, I bet the term ”sun worshipper” doesn’t even exist any more. Maybe we’re more like “sun admirers from afar.”
I must have inherited the predilection from my mom, who spent most of her summer afternoons planted on a lawn chair in our back yard, head tipped back and face directed skyward as if she were getting a wash at a hair salon. Mom could remain motionless that way for hours, until her skin turned deep bronze with just an undertone of dead lobster. But she loved it; and even though her chest eventually began to show the telltale rivulets and fissures of overexposure, her face always remained smooth and unwrinkled, appearing years younger than her chronological age, right until the day she died (which had nothing to do with skin cancer, as you might imagine).
When I was about 14, one summer I decided that I had to acquire a ”real” tan. Being naturally pallid (my skin is normally the shade of a block of raw tofu*), I knew I’d have to work up to it gradually. So I slathered on Johnson’s Baby Oil (the more “mature” among you will remember those days) and set myself the task of sunning first for 5 minutes, ten the following day, then fifteen. . . I think I worked myself up to about half an hour before I got so bored I had to go inside. (On another note, can you believe we used to slather ourselves with BABY OIL, literally frying our skin in the sun like human wontons? To make matters worse, we’d often use sun reflectors around our faces, to intensify the rays. . . like Dorian Gray, I’m waiting in dread fear for the day when that summer starts to show its effects).
I did achieve the sought-after copper hue, though. At the end of August, I arrived at a neighbour’s house to babysit, and (after she glanced at my deeply burnished epidermis), she exclaimed, ”Gee, I didn’t know your family spent the summer in the Caribbean.” Victory!
Well, that was the last time my skin was any shade darker than straw. These days, I don’t spend nearly as much time outside. For some reason, as I grew older, I developed a strong aversion to anything entomological (even those cute little Volkswagens make me cringe). As a result, I much prefer to be outdoors during the day when it’s hot and sunny and even the ants retreat to the shade. Bar-B-Q’s or dining al fresco on summer evenings just means I’m another one of the appetizers at the buffet, as the mosquitoes feast on my pale, exposed skin. Ouch. ( The HH, whose natural complexion is somewhat tawny, will often remark, “It’s fine out here. There are no bugs.” That’s only because he’s not their meal of choice. Well, that’s one type of rejection I’d actually welcome, thanks.).
Whether or not you like to spend evenings on the patio in summer, this Confetti Salad works beautifully in the heat. The mosaic of colors effectively reflects the tangle of flowers, grasses, and fresh produce that adorn many gardens and farmers markets at this time of year, their variegated colors competing for first billing in the bowl. I love the brilliant yellows and reds from the corn and peppers, the variety of textures, tastes, and colors that share space in this salad. The dressing is light and crisp, composed of lots of lemon and a hint of sesame oil.
This dish was a perfect use for some of the wild rice I received as a gift from Courtney; coupled with inspiration from a favorite recipe in Calci-Yum, it’s an ideal salad to serve to guests at an impromptu summer dinner party.
Now I just have to hope it rains so we can eat indoors.
*How’s that for a sneaky veg*n reference?
Confetti Quinoa and Wild Rice Salad with Cilantro (or Parsley)
adapted from Calci-Yum! by David and Rachelle Bronfman
A great salad for a gathering or a light dinner at home. Serve this cold or at room temperature, and feel free to mix up the veggies to your own tastes.
For the Salad:
2 cups (480 ml) cooked quinoa, at room temperature
1 cup (240 ml) cooked wild rice (or use brown rice), at room temperature
1 large tomato, diced
1/2 sweet red pepper, diced
1/2 cup (120 ml) red onion, chopped fine
1 cup (240 ml) fresh or frozen corn kernels
3/4 cup (180 ml) fresh cilantro leaves, coarsely chopped (or use some/all parsley instead)
3/4 cup (135 g) natural almonds, coarsely chopped
1/2 cup (55 g) natural walnut halves, coarsely chopped
For the Dressing:
1/2 cup (120 ml) freshly squeezed lemon juice
1 Tbsp (15 ml) dark sesame oil
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) fine sea salt
1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) cumin
1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) coriander
1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) agave nectar or maple syrup
Toss salad ingredients together in a large bowl.
In a small bowl, combine dressing ingredients and whisk to blend well. Pour over salad ingredients and toss to coat. Serve immediately, or refrigerate until cold. Makes 4-6 servings. Keeps, covered in the refrigerator, up to 3 days.
ACD variation: Use 5 drops of stevia liquid or equivalent stevia powder instead of the agave.
Other posts in this series:
Other Lucky Comestibles:
Last Year at this Time: Flash in the Pan: Mex-Ital Tofu Scramble
© 2009 Diet, Dessert and Dogs
[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
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.
[Now, doesn't that dish just scream, "SPRING!"?]
Your hubby calls with the fabulous news that he’s been given a promotion (in this economy!), and to seal the deal, his boss has asked both of you to join him and his lovely wife for dinner. “Nonsense!” you reply. “Why not invite them over here, as a thank-you? I’ll cook dinner.”
Or perhaps you’re shopping at Whole Foods when your eyes meet across the leafy greens. One look at his raven hair and chiseled chin and you’re smitten. He approaches shyly and mutters, “I’m sorry, I don’t usually do this, but you are so pretty I just had to ask you out to dinner.” You counter with a smile, “Well, actually, why don’t I ask you–in? I’d love to cook dinner for you.”**
Or maybe your best friend from childhood is coming to town and wants to meet you to catch up on old times. She’s staying at the Hilton and invites you for drinks. “No, no, please come to my place for dinner instead!” you insist. “After all this time, you deserve a good home cooked meal!”
Well, dear reader, whatever the occasion that prompts you to cook for someone else, I have one small piece of advice: now is not the time to try out a new recipe.
There are a few simple rules of dating. One: Don’t discuss previous relationships. Two: have two pairs of shoes by the door, so you can choose the high heels or the flats, depending on how tall your beau turns out to be. Three: never order spaghetti on a first date. Four: the first time you cook for someone, never, EVER try out a recipe you haven’t made before.
I’m sure we’ve all had this happen at least once–we acquire a new cookbook and are immediately besotted with one of the recipes. We just have to try it out, we decide on the spot. Following the instructions verbatim–even reproducing the gestures of the hand model in the photos–we weave through the various steps exactly as written. We time it with NASA-worthy precision, then throw open the oven door to find–utter catastrophe! The result resembles a molecule-mixup from a seriously malfunctioning Star Trek replicator: misshapen, gnarly, perhaps, or charred beyond all resemblance to a foodstuff. Or perhaps the dish looks the same as the photo in the cookbook, but one nibble reveals a taste like curdled milk served over rancid eggs.
I’ve had my share of kitchen disasters, believe me. Over the years, I’ve learned always to create a trial run of any new recipe the week before I’m actually going to serve it (given that we’re only two people in our house, this has resulted in many a strange meal when I’m testing dishes for a crowd). But I learned my lesson years ago. When I was still trapped sleepwalking ensconced in my starter marriage, I decided to go all out and roast a turkey for my in-laws at Christmas (I was still eating meat in those days). Well, even back then, I was no expert at turkey, having never made one before.
I pulled out my trusty copy of Joy of Cooking (the original, not that dreadful new edition that came out in 2006 ) and followed the instructions to a “T.” In order to prevent the turkey from drying out, the book suggests draping a clean kitchen towel over it, then basting directly over the towel. No problem; I didn’t even mind ruining a tea towel in honor of my in-laws.
No, the towel didn’t catch fire. And no, I didn’t overcook the turkey, or serve it raw. In fact, the meat itself was cooked to perfection; once I could bring myself to cut into it, the flesh was tender and moist. There was one wee problem, however. You see, the book didn’t stipulate that you should use a white kitchen towel. I was a relatively new cook–what did I know?? All we had were towels that matched our then-decor, blue and green check.
Towels. Entirely covered in little checks, alternating bright blue and vibrant, Martian green.
Yep, you guessed it.
Oh, and by the way–did you know that kitchen towel dyes are not colorfast when you baste them with turkey grease?
Needless to say (and thankfully!), no one was brave enough to consume bluish-green meat. We ordered Swiss Chalet and made do with my tried-and-true side dishes.
When I think of kitchen disasters, I also remember my old friend Bill. Bill was a social butterfly who loved to throw dinner parties, and I was regularly a lucky recipient of one of those coveted invitations. He was, generally, a great cook, and everyone relished his parties, both for the food and for his lively, witty, often hilarious sense of humor. We often pretended we were cohorts at the Algonquin Round Table (pretty audacious, I know–especially since I was appointed the Dorothy of the group), slinging puns and sarcastic quips at each other all evening over martinis (affording me the opportunity to paraphrase one of my favorite Benchley lines one rainy night: “Let’s get out of these wet clothes and into a dry martini.”).
So. . . . when Bill decided to attempt Pad Thai for the first time at a dinner party, no one blinked an eye.
Ooops. Rice noodles, as we now know, don’t cook up the same way as regular pasta. After bobbing and boiling for 10 full minutes, Bill’s Pad Thai noodles were more like barely set Jello. Undaunted, he threw together the veggies and sauce for the dish, and combined them with the noodle goo. Everyone ate in respectful silence, masticating tiny mouthfuls of sweet pink mush. Not too many quips that evening, I’ll tell you (I think our tongues were stuck to the roofs of our mouths).
I’ve never tried my hand at authentic Pad Thai, but this recipe, a raw version, is one I made at a living foods cooking class with my friend Caroline Dupont several years ago. The dish was created by Jennifer Italiano, owner of Live Organic Café here in Toronto. It’s one of the best raw Pad Thai recipes I’ve found–peppery with an abundance of fresh ginger and garlic, bathed in a thick, creamy sauce and boasting a mosaic of crisp, colorful veggies. I used to make the “noodles” with a spiral slicer (which extrudes long threads of zucchini resembling spaghetti), but I now prefer to simply use a carrot peeler to generate long, thin strips that better imitate rice noodles. (And they never turn to mush).
If you’re not fond of raw foods dishes, I think you’ll still enjoy this. The HH remarked that it would be a great side salad with any Asian-inspired dish. Nevertheless, he ate an entire plate, no main course required. It’s also a great base for a light dinner, and a wonderful dish to serve guests–but just not the first time they come over.
“Mum, you really shouldn’t have thrown away that turkey. We would have been happy to eat it–especially since we’re color blind!”
Raw “Pad Thai”
adapted from an original by Jennifer Italiano via Caroline Dupont
Refreshing and not too filling, this dish offers up an impressive array of veggies in a sweet and spicy Asian-inspired sauce.
Base:
2 medium zucchinis, washed and ends trimmed
1 large carrot, washed and ends trimmed
1/2 cup thinly sliced red onion
1/2 each red and yellow pepper, thinly sliced [I didn't have peppers, so used broccoli instead]
1 cup (240 ml) slivered red or white cabbage
1 green apple, julienned
3/4 cup (180 ml) finely chopped cauliflower
3 Tbsp (45 ml) grated or shredded coconut
Sauce:
3 Tbsp (45 ml) pure maple syrup or agave nectar
juice of one lemon (about 2-3 Tbsp or 30-45 ml)
2 small cloves garlic, minced
4 dry unsweetened dates, soaked in room temperature water for 2 hours*
1/4 cup (60 ml) tamari or soy sauce
1 inch (5 cm) piece of ginger, peeled and minced
1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) salt, or less, to taste
1/4 tsp (1 ml) cayenne
1/2 cup (120 ml) natural almond butter
up to 1/2 cup (120 ml) water, to thin the sauce
To create the “noodles,” simply peel the zucchini lengthwise with a carrot peeler, rotating it as you go, to create long, thin strips that can serve as your “rice noodles.” Arrange these on a large platter.
Repeat the motion with the carrot to create long strips, or simpy grate it if you prefer. Place the carrot, onion, peppers, cabbage, apple and cauliflower in a large bowl.
In a blender, combine all sauce ingredients and 2 Tbsp (30 ml) to 1/4 cup (60 ml) of the water. Blend to combine, then test thickness. If the sauce is too thick, add more water, a little at a time, until desired consistency is reached. (I like the sauce very thick, as the natural moisture in the veggies is always drawn out and thins it out more than you’d expect).
Pour the sauce over the vegetables in the bowl and toss to combine well. Spoon the veggie mixture over the zucchini “noodles,” then sprinkle with the coconut. (If you’re taking photos, do it now.) Toss, then serve immediately. Makes 4 large servings. Will keep, covered in the refrigerator, up to 2 days.
Anti-Candida Variation: Omit maple syrup, dates, and apple. Use 5-10 drops of stevia in place of the syrup and dates in the sauce, and replace the tamari with Bragg’s aminos. Still yummy!
**Think it’s a fantasy? I happen to know someone to whom this happened. . . well, the first few sentences, anyway!
Last year at this time: Soy (and Sugar) Free Vegan Whipped Cream
© 2009 Diet, Dessert and Dogs
[Totally tangential rant: When I woke up this morning, I was sure my eyes were playing tricks on me--it is snowing outside! Snowing. BIG snow. As in, "little white flakes that fly across your field of vision." As in, "icy and slushy and boots weather." As in, "everything is coated with rime and appears opaque and goes crunch when you walk on it." As in, "turn the heat back on and pull those sweaters out of storage again." As in, IF I SEE ONE MORE DAY OF WINTER I AM GOING TO LEAP UP AND DOWN AND FLAIL MY ARMS LIKE A CRAZED FLAMINGO AND SCREAM BLOODY MURDER AND WEEP LIKE A CONTESTANT ON THE BIGGEST LOSER AND THEN DISSOLVE IN A PUDDLE LIKE THE WICKED WITCH OF THE WEST. Okay, maybe not really. But I will not be very happy, let me tell you.]
I’m sure we’ve all heard it before, but I’m here to reiterate: diets don’t work. In fact, I’m living proof of that axiom.
I embarked on my first bona fide “diet” at age thirteen (thirteen! there oughta be a law) because, at the cusp of adolescence, I entered a new school and was, for the first time, startled to discover that there were boys–and they had somehow become appealing overnight!–out there. And that my friends whose mammaries had developed the previous summer seemed to attract the boys more than I did. And that maybe, if I lost twenty pounds, I might be the object of male hormonal affections, too.
And so, the beginning of a lifetime of serial dieting was born.
That initial diet was called the Stillman Quick Weight Loss Diet (a precursor to the later Atkins fiasco) and it allowed NO fruits or vegetables, NO grains and, basically, nothing but protein. For three months or so, I dutifully ate hardboiled egg for breakfast, tuna fish (no mayo) for lunch, and some kind of cooked meat (likely chicken) for dinner. And yes, the pounds did drop. Unfortunately, so did my IQ, my heart rate, and several of my friendships.
Before long, it wasn’t just boys who paid attention to me, but my parents and teachers, too, as my skin became pallid and wan; my clothes bagged in decidedly unattractive ripples across my chest, waist and hips; my hair lost its luster, hanging scraggly and thin; and my basic demeanor shifted from formerly sweet, pleasant, and interested in academics to introverted and skittish, eyes flitting from one point to another without ever focusing, like a kleptomaniac hiding a pair of shoes in her purse as she crosses the electronic detectors at the Bloomingdale’s exit. Needless to say, my parents convinced me to abandon the Stillman diet.
Subsequently, in my 30s during a “heavy” cycle, my world changed for a time when I met Dean. He didn’t mind that I was chubby; in fact, he welcomed it.
Dean, you see, was Dean Ornish, author of the diet plan called Eat More, Weigh Less. I loved the book immediately and bought it based on the title alone (you know that myth about how every twenty-something guy dreams of being locked in a room with two sexy, randy lesbians? Well, every dieter dreams of being able to pig out uncontrollably without limits, yet still lose weight).** I didn’t care about the actual diet, no sir; all I cared about was that title–I could eat more, and weigh less! Yessss!
Little did I know that Ornish was a medical doctor–a cardiologist, no less–and his book was based on years of extensive study. In fact, Ornish was the first (and only, if my sources are correct) medical professional to prove in scientific, double blind studies that you can actually reverse heart disease with diet alone. That’s right; reverse, not just diminish; and diet alone–no pills, no medications! His original idea has now blossomed into a full-fledged industry, including an institute that practises what he preached. It’s called the Preventive Medicine Research Institute and people go there to recover from (and reverse) their heart disease. How cool is that?
The first edition of the diet, however, was incredibly stringent, allowing no more than 10% of calories from fat (from all food sources combined). Clearly, well-marbled steaks, chicken with skin, or whipping cream are not on the menu. It was a radical notion back then: a vegan diet, and one with a very low fat content (Happy Herbivore, rejoice!). Best of all, the book included recipes.
Following the Ornish plan, I never felt better. I see now that the menus were fairly grain-heavy, but at the time, I was happy to cook up the recipes, pile my plate as high as I could, and methodically shove one forkful after another into my mouth, chewing away. At times it took me the better part of half an hour to polish off a plate, but I never worried that I was eating too much–I was eating MORE so I could weigh LESS!
Ornish’s Seven Grain Dirty Rice and Beans was my first encounter with this spicy Cajun favorite and also my first foray into the world of cooking dried beans from scratch. The dish is a variation on the classic combination, with corn for chewiness, and a spirited spice mix. The result is a satisfying, multi-textured meal. The beans and rice pair up to offer a complete protein. As a single woman living on my own, it was also a godsend to be able to create meals from basic, inexpensive ingredients that would last a few days (theoretically, I’m sure, the recipes were intended for 6 or more servings, which would have lasted much longer than a few days, but I really was piling my plates pretty high).
I achieved the desired weight loss on the Ornish plan and even managed to maintain it for several years, until I moved to Toronto and began teaching at the college where I still work today. And then, I met my starter husband, we got married, and I ballooned once again, the cycle repeating itself. Did my weight gain play a role in our split? No. But our split played a role in my weight. . . after I dumped the guy, the weight began to recede as well, which led to my current relationship with the HH, after which I gained back all the weight and more. . . which is why I now need this ACD to clear out the toxins and, ideally, lose more weight. . . .
Do we detect a pattern here? Diets don’t work!
Nevertheless, I still love this dish. And I’ll always have a soft spot (well, right now, several soft spots, most of which are located between waist and hip areas) for Dr. Dean.
**Oh, dear me. I can just imagine the blog searches that will lead people here now. Especially since this dish has the word “dirty” in its title. Groan.
Seven Grain Dirty Rice and Beans
adapted from Eat More, Weigh Less (original recipe on this site)
I have no idea why this is called “SEVEN” Grain Dirty Rice (unless I’m missing something, aren’t the rice and corn the only grains in this?). Whatever the reason, it’s a slightly spicy, very flavorful and hearty dish, one that’s easy to prepare–and it won’t break the bank.
2 cups (480 ml) dry brown rice (I used basmati)
1-1/2 cups (360 ml) chopped red onion
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 cup (240 ml) finely diced carrots
1/2 cup (120 ml) finely diced celery
1 small jalapeno pepper, minced (remove seeds for less heat)
1 Tbsp (15 ml) ground cumin
1 Tbsp (15 ml) ground coriander
2 tsp (10 ml) chili powder
1/4 tsp (1 ml) fine sea salt
3-3/4 cups (900 ml) vegetable stock or broth
1 bay leaf
1-1/2 cups (360 ml) chopped tomatoes (I used a large can of diced tomatoes)
1-1/2 cups (360 ml) cooked red beans (I used kidney; any firm bean will do)
1/2 cup (120 ml) fresh or frozen corn kernels
3-4 Tbsp (45-60 ml.) fresh chopped parsley
3-4 Tbsp (45-60 ml) fresh chopped cilantro
Preheat oven to 350F (180C). Spray a large casserole dish (one with a cover) and set aside.
In a fairly large, heavy-bottomed pot, heat the rice, onion, garlic, carrots, celery, jalapeno, cumin, coriander and chili powder over medium heat, stirring constantly, for about 5 minutes, until lightly browned.
Add the salt, stock, bay leaf and tomatoes, and stir to combine. Cover, lower heat and simmer for 15 minutes.
Add the beans, corn, parsley and cilantro. Turn the mixture into the casserole dish, cover and bake for another 30-40 minutes, until the liquid is absorbed and the rice is cooked. If necessary, add a bit more stock and continue cooking until the rice is sufficiently soft. Garnish with more chopped herbs, if desired. Makes 6-8 servings. May be frozen.
NOTE: The original recipe suggests cooking the entire dish in your pot on the stovetop. I found, however, that the rice never really absorbed the liquid that way, and it remained hard even after an hour of simmering. If the stovetop method works for you, however, go ahead and use it–you’ll save yourself some dishes to wash that way.
Last Year at this Time: Quinoa and Oatmeal Croquettes
© 2009 Diet, Dessert and Dogs
[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).]
Before I get to today’s super-quick, super-easy, SUPER DELICIOUS recipe, I wanted to respond to all your generous comments about the new blog home (AND remind you all that there is only ONE WEEK left to enter the giveaway contest to win a quart (liter) of pure maple syrup or a custom-baked cake–be sure to get your comments in!)
First : Thank you for all your positive feedback and support! And thanks, too, for following DDD to its new home.  I’m glad that, overall, most of you like the new site. I’ve attempted to incorporate as many of the suggestions as I could; please know that changes are limited by (a) the existing template, some of which can’t be modified without extensive knowledge of html (my knowledge of which extends about as far as the length of an eyelash); and (b) how much I can badger entice beg request from Blain, who has been implementing these revisions for me.
Interestingly, I deliberately chose the white background and sparse look to replicate the old blog (even though it, too, was all white in back with an orange title and green blog post titles, it seems as if many of us–myself included–found the old site less “bare” looking! I wonder what genetic wiring that’s connected to. . . ?). I have changed the font, the glaring black-against-white color, and the comments link (the best we could do is highlight it at the bottom of each post, which I hope makes it more visible).
The original idea for the site was to add a banner under the title (there’s a thin, long white space there now) with assorted photos across the top, but honestly, I don’t like any of my photos enough to leave them there all the time; and I’m growing rather fond of the clean, austere look (I figure at least something in my life should be unencumbered!). I’d love to one day put up a cartoon of The Girls’ faces as a kind of mascot (to the right of title “Diet, Dessert and Dogs”), but so far my cartooning skills aren’t up to snuff. Any volunteers??
So, for now, anyway, this is the new look of DDD. I’m sure it will evolve and grow with time. . . and after I take a few courses in web design.
And now, on to today’s supercalafragafantabuwonderlicious veggie recipe!
(I liked it. Can you tell?)
[I know our cruciferous friend here isn't exactly photogenic. But he makes up for it a thousandfold in personality, believe me!]
Well, with my current (ACD-imposed) gluten-free diet–which will likely drag on improve my transit time leave me with post-traumatic stress sydrome continue for at least another month, I’ve been relying mostly on tried-and-true favorites, plus a whole lot of raw dishes (mostly salads–too boring to blog about).
For some reason, I don’t seem to possess my usual zeal to create many new recipes based on the ACD requirements. Oh, and I’m hungry all the time. No, really, all the time. (I used to know a guy in university who was such a chain smoker that his body woke him up around 3:00 AM every night so he could have a cigarette. He’d roll out of bed, light up in the dark, then butt out and go back to sleep. Well, that’s pretty much what it feels like to me, except substitute “food–ANY food” for ”cigarettes.”)
And–worst of all–I seem to have misplaced my sense of humor on this diet.
Curse thou, wretched ACD–
Do not my humor take from me!
(Thank goodness I haven’t lost my sense of poetry–for the time being, anyway).
While I’m waiting for both hunger to subside and humor to return, I discovered a simple and irresistible recipe to help tide me over. For quite some time now, I’ve been a regular follower of Cheryl’s cheery, informative blog, Gluten-Free Goodness (you should see some of the incredible, innovative ways she meets the Daring Bakers’ challenges on a restricted diet!). And every month, I read her contribution to the “Adopt a Gluten-Free Blogger” event, and think, “Hmmm. . . . I should take part in that, too.” Though I’m not entirely gluten-free (except when following the ACD), I actually prefer most GF grains to wheat or spelt, and tend to cook that way quite often.
I read about Cheryl’s Coconut Curried Greens a couple of weeks ago and immediately thought, “Yes! I love collards, too!” And I’m always on the lookout for new ways to make them. I mean, oil and garlic is great, but sometimes, you want something a little different–creamy, say, and coconutty, and a little spicy.
This Indian-inspired dish (it features a good hit of garam masala, one of my favorite Indian spices) is ready in a flash and rewards you with a rich, velvety sauce, one that’s slightly sweet from the combination of aforementioned spice and coconut milk–the perfect foil for the assertive, slightly bitter collards. And the extra bit of sauce that pools at the bottom of the pan is perfect for dipping some chickpea cheela, which is exactly what I made to go alongside.
As Cheryl mentions in her own post, these are so good that she and her hubby “ended up fighting over leftovers.” The HH and I didn’t fight, but we did resort to that age-old method used by moms everywhere, to ensure fairness when splitting food between bickering siblings: one of us (that would be me) got to divide the mixture in half, thereby determining the size of each portion; and the other (the HH) got to choose which one he wanted first. It’s the perfect way to guarantee absolutely equal division of portions, believe me.
So, finally, here is my first entry to this month’s Adopt a Gluten Free Blogger. Head on over to Book of Yum’s blog to see all the amazing GF creations!
I’m also entering this recipe in Kristen’s Fight Back Fridays blog carnival for healthy foods. . . check it out!
Creamy Coconut Collards
from Gluten Free Goodness: Recipe here
The only change I made to Cheryl’s original recipe was in preparation of the greens: rather than boil them first and then add to the sauce, I simply added the shredded greens to the coconut milk mixture in the pan and let the whole thing simmer for about 8-10 minutes for the sauce to thicken. I also used a can of full-fat coconut milk instead of the fresh coconut.
Last Year at this Time: Quinoa Salad with Buckwheat and Cranberries (and it happens to be gluten-free!)
© 2009 Diet, Dessert and Dogs
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