A hydrogen atom walks into a bar. He turns to the bartender and says, “I think I’ve lost an electron!”. The bartender replies, “Are you positive?” [source: my Biochemistry prof at CSNN]
Ba-DUM-pa! Yes, indeedy, I am a lover of corny jokes. I giggle uncontrollably when I hear a good one, I hoard them for later use at dinner parties, I re-tell them whenever I get a chance. That beauty up above, for instance, I’ve been saving since 2002 when I heard it in a classroom in nutrition school.
I inherited the “corn” gene from both my parents in equal measure. My father is one of those people who has a joke at the ready for any circumstance. Drop him into a group of people discussing the latest in cloning techniques, and he might pipe up with ”So, a geneticist and a sheep walk up to a bar. . . “ My mother, on the other hand, was the Queen of Sap, unparalleled in her ability to cry at pretty much anything and everything that touched on sentimental or mawkish. A saccharine birthday card with “I love you” scrawled at the end? Cue the waterworks. A radio report about a German Shepherd saving its owner from drowning? Hand me that box of Kleenex, would you? An über-corny made-for-TV movie that she didn’t even watch? Watch out for those puddles at her feet.
Question: What is green and sings? Answer: Elvis Parsley. [source: seventeen year-old Ricki, as an audience member on The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson, who was chosen to tell a joke on air. Yes, folks, that is the only one I could think of, and I told it to millions of viewers across the country.]
The aforementioned movie incident occurred many years ago, and it’s a perfect illustration of my mother’s extreme sensitivity. One weekend in high school when my friend Sterlin was sleeping over, we parked ourselves in the basement family room, splayed out on the carpet as we watched a chintzy made-for-TV movie called Message to My Daughter. In a nutshell, here’s the plot: a young woman discovers a series of cassette tapes her (now dead) mother had made for her while she (the mother) was dying of cancer. The movie skips between present-day scenes of the girl listening to the tapes and flashbacks of the mother as she records her pregnancy, her daughter’s toddlerhood, and her eventual decline from the disease.
In the final scene of the film, the young woman visits her mother’s grave. Kneeling down before the tombstone, she whispers something like, “Mom, I never knew you, but you were the best mother a girl could ever have. And I love you.”
Now, as it happened, our TV room was situated midway between the stairs leading to the upstairs and the laundry room, also in the basement. This particular Friday evening my mom was doing laundry, so she had to walk through the TV room two or three times as she went from the kitchen upstairs to the washer, back up to the kitchen, then back down again to the dryer. Coincidentally, it was time to empty the dryer just seconds before that final graveyard scene. My mother walked into the room, heard the words, “. . .but you were the best mother a girl could ever have. And I love you,” and before Sterlin and I could say “Bounce dryer sheets,” my mother was frozen in front of the television, a stifled sob caught in her throat and tears streaming down her cheeks onto the folded towels she clutched to her chest.
Oh, yes, it took a while for her to live that one down, I’ll tell you.
A neutron goes into a bar and asks the bartender, “How much for a beer?” The bartender replies, “For you, no charge.” [Joe Cassaletto]
Well, even though it seems I’ve inherited my mother’s predilection for corny sentiments (Is it soft and furry? Does it involve losing a prized possession, home, food, sentimental item? Does an old person connect with a younger person? Does a young man offer a young woman a token of his affection? Does a teenaged girl go to her mother’s grave and say, “Mom, I never got to know you, but I really love you”?–yep, I’ll cry at it, too), there is also a great love of corn–the edible kind–in the DDD household as well.
Although I can’t consume much of it on the ACD (it’s a restricted food), I have always loved fresh corn on the cob, ever since the days when everyone ate locally by default and real corn was a once-a-year treat. My sisters and I all loved the nubbly batons with their succulent, sunny grains lined up perfectly like beads on an abacus. At the same time, our elation was tinged with a touch of sadness, since their appearance also augured our return to school and the end of summer.
When I read about the evils of drinking, I gave up reading. [source: Henny Youngman]
And while I’ve made corn chowder before, I’ve never prepared a corn-based soup with kernels cut fresh from the cob. This recipe is my adaptation of one I came across last weekend, when the HH and I spent a couple of nights up north and whiled away the time in front of a saltwater swimming pool, reading magazines. It’s from Good Housekeeping, a publication I don’t read regularly, yet something about the creamy yellow base with its contrasting garnish and the sheer simplicity of the recipe appealed to me. Something that fresh and oh, so corny–well, how could I resist?
A helium atom walks into a bar. The bartender screams at it, “Hey! You’re stinking drunk!” The helium atom doesn’t react. [source: @Joan Rivers]
You’ll find the flavor here is just the right combination of sweet and smoky, with both the paprika and baked tofu offering a balanced pairing alongside the corn and potato. Creamy, cool, and slightly sweet, this soup is a great way to bid summer adieu as we anticipate the autumn harvest. The HH enjoyed this with some crusty bread, while I had it plain; as corny as it was, the soup was enough for me on its own.
I thought this soup would be a great submission this week to Amy’s Slightly Indulgent Tuesdays. The event just keeps growing every week–check it out, and submit something if you’re so inclined!
“Okay, I’ve got one, Mum! Elsie walks into a bar and sits down on a bar stool and says to the bartender, ‘Give me my treats, NOW!” And the bartender says, ‘Okay, here!’! Ha ha ha ha ha isn’t that a good one, Elsie?”
“Zip it, Chaser. Honestly, do you think anyone would find that funny, when it could never happen in real life? I mean, everyone knows we’re not allowed up on the furniture.”
Oh, and don’t forget: the SOS Kitchen Challenge for August (focused on MINT) is still on until the end of the month–be sure to submit your mint-based recipes! Full details here.
Chilled Corn Soup with Smoky Garnish (suitable for ACD stage 2 and beyond)
2 Tbsp (30 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
1 medium yellow onion, diced
3 cups (720 ml) fresh or frozen corn kernels, divided
1 large Yukon gold (yellow fleshed) potato, peeled and grated
1/8 tsp (.5 ml) smoked paprika plus more for garnish
1-1/2 cups (360 ml) vegetable broth or stock
2 cups (480 ml) unsweetened plain soy or almond milk
salt and pepper, to taste
1/4 cup (60 ml) fresh cilantro leaves
4 servings of your favorite tempeh or tofu “bacon” (about 1/2 pound or 250 g), diced small, or you can use smoked tofu
In a large heavy-bottomed pot, heat the oil over medium heat and add the onion. Sauté until the onion is translucent, about 5 minutes. Add 2-1/2 cups (600 ml) of the corn, reserving 1/2 cup (120 ml) for garnish, the grated potato and the paprika, and cook for 2 more minutes. Add the broth and cook until the potato is soft and the liquid is almost evaporated, about 10 minutes.
Remove the pot from the heat, stir in the soy milk, and season with salt and pepper. Pour the soup (in batches if necessary) into a blender and blend until smooth. Cover and chill until cold, at least 3 hours and up to overnight.
To serve, divide the soup into bowls and sprinkle each with a tiny bit more smoked paprika, a handful of the smoked tofu, a bit of the reserved corn kernels, and a few leaves of cilantro. Serve immediately. Makes 4-6 servings. This is best eaten fresh, and not really suitable for freezing.
This month’s SOS (Sweet or Savory) Kitchen Challenge asked readers to whip up dishes with spinach, and wow, did you ever take on this challenge with gusto! We received a dozen fantastic, creative recipes to try that all highlight the super-healthy leafy green. And yes, a few desserts are included as well!
Thanks to everyone who entered the challenge this month. As always, if you’ve submitted a recipe and I forgot to include it here, please let me know asap so I can add it to the list.
Here’s what’s on the menu with spinach:
THE SAVORY CONTRIBUTIONS:
Our very first entry was from Janet at Taste Space (Toronto) –a colorful and delicious Quinoa and Butternut Squash Spinach Salad with Cranberry and Pear. Well, I think the title tells you everything you need to know–doesn’t that just sound delectable? This savory salad is also a bit sweet with the pear and cranberries. Suitable for gluten free, vegan, sugar free, egg free and dairy free diets.
Jacqueline of Tinned Tomatoes (Dundee, Scotland) offers up a great recipe for Spicy Spinach and Potato Curry adapted from a recipe she found in one huge tome of a cookbook. Her pics look great (and check out the gratuitious cuteness of her new baby, Cooper!) This recipe is suitable for gluten free, soy-free, vegan, and ACD diets (contains coconut milk).
Kiersten from Full of Beans (Charlotte, NC )’s vegan Coconut Curried Chickpeas and Spinach looks like the perfect quick weekday dinner. I love a good curry, and with chickpeas AND spinach, you can’t go wrong with this one! Vegan, soy-free, gluten free, ACD-friendly and otherwise nut-free.
A double savory whammy comes to us from Lisa of Vegan Cookbook Critic (Toronto). First up, Lisa created a quick and easy savory Avocado-Spinach Spread–just look at the deep emerald color of that dip!
She also “uncooked” some gorgeously green Spinach-Hemp Flatbreads on which to spread it. Unlike many other dehydrated flatbreads, these remain soft, perfect for sandwiches. These both are vegan, dairy free, gluten free, raw, and sugar free.
Mom at the Gluten-Free Edge (Georgetown, Texas) decided that her Spinach Mushroom Pie should undergo a vegan revamp for this month’s entry! This is her remake of a long-time favorite recipe, and it worked out beautifully. The recipe is gluten free and vegan.
Chaya from The Comfy Cook is back this month with a fabulous Oriental Rice Pizza. This savory dish is filled with veggies and is a snap to make with its rice-based crust. It’s gluten free, sugar free and dairy free.
Johanna of Green Gourmet Giraffe (Melbourne, Australia) offers a cheezy spinach-based soup this month with her Pumpkin, Bean and Spinach Soup. While the recipe itself looks delicious, half the fun of the recipe is Johanna’s recounting of the experimentation that led her to it. And doesn’t the concept of tofu croutons just sound fabulous?
Valerie of City Life Eats (Washington, DC) has created a Lemony Spinach Pepita Pesto. With a unique combination of ingredients, this pesto would be delicious on more than just pasta. It’s gluten free, vegan, nut free, sugar free and ACD-friendly.
Aubree Cherie, who blogs at Living Free (Kennett Square, PA), decided to move out of her usual spinach zone with these Almond Spinach Biscuits. A great savory biscuit with a hint of sweet (dried cranberries), these treats were gobbled up by her significant other in no time. Definitely a fun (and delicious) recipe. Gluten free, sugar free, vegan and ACD-friendly.
My event partner, Kim at Affairs of Living, cooked up a fabulous Creamy Spinach and Celeriac Soup for those days when you crave something rich and healthy at the same time. The recipe is vegan, gluten free, sugar free, ACD friendly, soy free and nut free.
My savory contribution this month is a Classic Tofu Quiche recipe that I’ve had for years but never thought to post. The millet crust helps to make it quick, easy, and delicious! It’s gluten free, sugar free and vegan.
THE SWEET CONTRIBUTIONS (Yes, even spinach has a sweet side!):
Rachel from My Munchable Musings (WA) treated us to two sweet recipes this month! First up are these Spring Picnic Cupcakes, her take on the classic Strawberry and Spinach Salad–in a sweet mini confection! She’s also included a great bit of additional history and nutritional information about spinach here. These are wheat free, sugar free and vegan.
Rachel also created these adorable Green Thumb Print Cookies, that are gluten free! I love how the strawberry sits perfectly in the thumb print–seriously yummy looking. These are gluten free, sugar free and vegan.
Kim’s second contribution this month is her Invisible Spinach Smoothie. While you may have enjoyed smoothies with spinach before, this quick and easy recipe contains another veggie that you might not expect. Vegan, ACD-friendly, gluten free.
Finally, my sweet contribution is this Green Monster Muffin. Based on the concept of green smoothies, these muffins offer up spinach in a slightly sweet, hearty breakfast baked good. I’ve used chopped apples, but you could add in raisins or even chocolate chips to the mix if you like. Vegan, sugar free, gluten free.
Thanks again to everyone who played along this month. Enjoy these recipes until next month, when Kim–our hostess for June’s Challenge–will announce the new SOS ingredient.
[Today is the last day to enter two cookbook giveaways! Enter to win 500 Vegan Recipes right here on DDD--check this post. And if you'd like a free copy of my cookbook, Sweet Freedom, hop over to Sally's blog and enter before midnight tonight!]
I’ll be back with a new recipe over the weekend, but in the meantime, I thought I’d post some festive Easter-friendly recipes for those of you who celebrate (it’s only fair, since I posted Passover-friendly ones last week). The HH and I, on the other hand, will most likely partake of some Asian-themed fare this weekend.
Here are some holiday-appropriate dishes you might like to try. And if you’re following the ACD, don’t forget you can find 16 delicious gluten-free, allergen-free, ACD-friendly recipes in the Anti-Candida Feastebook (with desserts all stevia-sweetened!) for just $5.00 USD.
A very Happy Easter to all who celebrate!
“Mum, anotherholiday, so soon? Wow, you human types really know how to party.”
After being on the ACD for a full year now, I must admit to feeling a bit like a basket case (my, time sure does fly when you’re [not] having fungus). Having cut out poprocks and coke–not to mention all sugars, molds and fungi–it seems my body is now just a minim closer to reacting normally when faced with gastonomic excess. Whereas pre-ACD, I might have mindlessly polished off an entire pan of brownies in one day (who am I kidding? more like one sitting), nowadays, I start to feel full after barely four squares of ACD-friendly treats. Just call me a walking contradiction.
And so, lately, I’ve been feeling my body’s warning to take it easy. I suppose I could blame it on too many experiments in the kitchen (cheese bread? Fudge? Brain stew?). Or I could blame our recent trip to Florida, where the locals beckoned, ”welcome to paradise,” inviting me to eat all manner of slightly questionable foods (such as Butternut and Edamame Hash, likely bathed in maple syrup). I might just blame it on my current holiday from the college (Oh! Please wake me up when September ends!). Should I blame my dysfunctional childhood, with its boulevard of broken dreams? Or should I just blame it on the rain (hey! how the heck did those guysget in here?).
Whatever the reason, I’ve been feeling a need to cleanse, to refresh, to–yes, detox–lately. Not that I’m jaded, you understand; but I did think it would be fun to spend a whole day eating green foods, as a way to gently cleanse the system. What better way to celebrate St. Paddy’s Day than an entire day of green? (Okay, perhaps not 100% green–but, at least, foods that contained a majority of green. Which, I suppose, puts me in the minority).
[This is what wheatgrass juice looks like frozen. Don'tcha wish you had some?]
Why green? Well, as we know, greens are the healthiest foods out there. (Even Michael Pollan has a rule to that effect: eat more plants; mostly leaves). Also, they contain chlorophyll, which is a great blood detoxifier and cleanser. Furthermore, greens contain incredibly high proportions of minerals and Vitamin K. And let’s not forget a whole whack of antioxidants. So, taking a longview on health, and given their wonderful nutritional profile, I opted for a Green Day.
[This is what wheatgrass juice looks like defrosted. Now I bet you really wish you had some!]
As usual, my day started out with a hit of wheatgrass juice (I have it whenever I can get it at our local market; I juice enough for about 2 weeks’ worth, freeze in ice cube trays, and defrost overnight in the fridge) along with my daily flax/chia mix with spirulina (or, as the HH affectionately calls it, “Green Slime.”)
[Green Slime--with lots of affection.]
An hour or so later, I followed up with a green “pudding”/smoothie, based on this with a bit of this. With all that energy, I could have run a Macy’s Day parade (but decided against it, since we all know nice guys finish last).
[Avocado, cucumber and lettuce made this so green, I felt compelled to add some carob.]
I whisked up a steaming cup of matcha green tea, which I sipped as I finished some work on the computer.
[And yet more green!]
Lunch was a quick raw wrap–romaine lettuce with homemade nut cheese, grated carrots, cucumber and the other half of the morning avocado. Deelish!
[Fresh, crisp, and green as a four-leaf clover!]
And finally, for dinner, I opted for a lovely green soup. I discovered this recipe entirely serendipitously, one morning as I trod the treadmill (don’t you just love that word, “trod”?). For some reason, my soap opera hadn’t been recorded, and there I was, watching a blank screen like an American idiot, waiting, waiting. . . until I finally realized I was soapless. Well, good riddance, I say–and on to Food Network, where you can have the time of your life!
By chance, Laura Calder’s show was on, and her theme was “foods kids will like.” In contrast to her usual flesh-centric, cream-and-butter, weighty recipes, this soup was light, smooth, rich, and mildly flavored. The soup was incredibly quick and easy to make, and a hand-held blender was perfect to purée the final product. In less than 30 minutes, I had the emerald ending to my day of green.
Whether you opt for green soup, green beer or just some green-themed cheer, hope you all have a happy St. Patrick’s Day on the 17th!
(I know, I am a total nerd. I mean, who else would feel compelled to fit 20 greatest hits into one blog entry? But for now, I guess you’re just stuck with me.)
“Mum, we have to agree that yes, you are a nerd. But at least you’re not a geek stink breath. Now perhaps you’d like to give us a Greenie in honor of the day?”
Green Soup with Spinach, Lettuce, and Peas(ACD Phase I and beyond)
Quick and easy, this soup is a perfect first course to a light dinner. Or add some cheesy bread and call it a meal.
2 large leeks, cleaned and sliced (white and light green parts only) or 3 medium yellow onions, sliced
2 Tbsp (30 ml) coconut or extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
3 cups (720 ml) vegetable broth or stock
1 small bunch (about 2 cups/480 ml) baby spinach leaves
2 cups (480 ml) cooked green peas
2 cups (about 4 large leaves) shredded romaine lettuce
1/2 to 1 cup (120-240 ml) unsweetened soy or almond milk
1 Tbsp (15 ml) fresh lemon juice
fine sea salt and pepper, to taste
In a large pot or Dutch oven, heat the oil over medium heat; add the leeks and cook, stirring, until they are soft, 5-10 minutes. Add the broth, lower heat, cover and simmer until leeks are tender, about 15 minutes.
Add the spinach, green peas and lettuce, pushing the leaves to submerge in the broth. Continue to cook until leaves are soft and wilted, about 5 minutes.
Using an immersion blender, blend soup to desired smoothness (Calder suggests straining it, but I prefer to consume the excellent fiber in this soup!), then add the milk, lemon and seasonings to taste and stir well. Heat just until warmed through, and serve. Makes 4 servings. May be frozen.
[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. 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 apples.]
Did you win the Trail Mix Giveaway? Don’t forget to check here!
And now, our Lucky Comestible Apple series moves on to the soup course of the meal. . .
This soup is an all-time favorite of mine. One taste, and I promise you’ll be a devotee, too. Hey–this soup should have its own fan club! No, this soup should be featured on YouTube! This soup is a souper-star. You will love this soup!
Seriously, if you don’t love this soup, I will eat my hatmy wordsmy way through the northeastern states your portion as well as my own! I would marry this soup if I could. I LOVE THIS SOUP THAT MUCH. (sorry, HH–nothing personal).
In fact, I’ve been dreaming about this soup, on and off, for the past 20 years or so. I first encountered its enticing, tart and textured charms almost two decades ago, when I was invited to my former office mate’s home for dinner. Besides being strikingly beautiful (she had worked as a model for a while before teaching) and incredibly hip, Ms. Mate was also the very first vegan I knew personally (as if beauty and cool were not intimidating enough). I couldn’t believe I’d scored an invitation–I mean, Ms. Mate wore Yves St. Laurent jackets–to teach in! And she donned funky wigs, just for fun! She had a voice like Kathleen Turner and looked like Brigitte Nielsen (well, when the latter was still pretty); and I was in awe of her.
I don’t remember the rest of the meal, but that night I was served a standout apple and red wine soup (after the salad, I might add), and was immediately smitten. The slightly tannic base, thick with puréed apple and red as a lover’s blush, was oddly mesmerizing. I begged her to share the recipe.
Once I’d copied it meticulously from her cookbook (the name of which has dissipated forever into the ether of my age-addled memory), I took it home and filed it in my “soups” recipe folder. There it lay, neglected and withering, for months at a time. Whenever a special occasion would arise–a dinner party, say, or the holidays–I’d determine to revive the apple-red wine romance, slide the page from the folder, place it on the counter, and leave it there it lay for a few days, before I sheepishly returned it to its resting place. For one reason or another, I never made it again.
As soon as I decided to run this Lucky Comestible series on apples, however, I knew which soup recipe I’d use. Last week, I strode over to my cookbook shelves and withdrew the “Soups” folder once again. I began to leaf through the recipes. . . then checked again. . . then went through them all, one page at a time. Horrors!–the soup recipe was gone!!
I can’t adequately express the devastation I felt at realizing I’d somehow either lost or misplaced that recipe. I simply couldn’t imagine leaving it out. It’s the perfect “Let’s-try-something-different-this-holiday-season” soup, the perfect “let’s-wow-the-guests” soup, the perfect “I-love-you-be-my-Valentine” soup. Besides, I hadn’t eaten it in 20 years, and the memory of that unique flavor and texture was still compelling. I decided to try to reproduce the soup from the taste memory.
I’m happy to report that the results were stellar. Not only did I fall in love all over again, the HH was besotted, too.
“Hey, this tastes like real food!” he enthused. (I stared blankly.) “You know, like it has butter and cream and maybe even meat in it.” (For the HH, that is a compliment. But no, there’s no taste of meat in it.)
My soup isn’t quite as red as I remember the original being, but the flavor was just as I’d dreamed it. Thick, rich, and full bodied, with a slightly creamy texture that’s nevertheless robust, both warming and filling. The flavor is definitely that of apple, yet savory and slightly piquant at the same time.
I still love this soup, and am thrilled to have had this reunion, two decades later. And now you can fall in love, too. This would be perfect to serve if you’re looking for something a little different this Thanksgiving.
Just don’t forget where you filed the recipe.
Apple and Red Wine Soup
This is a great first course for a festive holiday meal. As such, serve in small bowls or soup mugs–the soup is filling, and you want to leave room for the rest of the meal! This also makes a perfect winter’s lunch with a salad and big hunk of crusty bread.
1 large onion, chopped
4 large crisp apples, peeled, cored and diced (I used MacIntosh and HoneyCrisp)
2 cups (480 ml) vegetable broth or stock
2 Tbsp-1/4 cup (30 ml-60 ml) maple syrup, to taste, or 10 drops stevia
2 tsp (10 ml) cinnamon
pinch nutmeg
1/4 tsp (1 ml) cloves
2 tsp (10 ml) freshly grated lemon zest
1 Tbsp (15 ml) fresh lemon juice
1/2 cup (120 ml) drinkable dry red wine (or use unsweetened cranberry juice for ACD-friendly version)
1 Tbsp (15 ml) arrowroot powder
1/2 cup (120 ml) full fat coconut milk, plus more for garnish
Heat the oil in a large pot or dutch oven over medium heat. Add the onion and apple and sauté until the onion is translucent and the apples begin to give off a bit of liquid, about 10 minutes.
Add the broth, maple syrup, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, lemon zest and lemon juice; lower heat. Cover and simmer until the apples are tender, 15-20 minutes.
Meanwhile, mix the arrowroot with the coconut milk in a small bowl. Once the apples are tender, add the coconut milk mixture and stir to blend well. Allow to cook for an additional minute, until thickened. Turn off heat.
Pour the mixture in batches into a blender, or use an immersion blender, and blend until smooth. Return the soup to the pot, stir in the wine, and return to heat until the soup is heated through, about 5 minutes. Garnish with a drizzle of coconut milk, if desired. Makes 4-6 servings. May be frozen.
ACD adjustments: use stevia instead of maple syrup, and unsweetened cranberry juice instead of the red wine.
[Dinner Bowl with millet, sesame chard, grated carrot, avocado, grape tomatoes, and almond sauce.]
When I was about four and the Nurse was eight, my parents decided to have our portraits taken. Now, in those days (we’re talking Dark Ages of technology, folks) no one had heard of digital photography, let alone Photoshop; you had to make due with photos as they appeared once developed, sometimes days or weeks after you’d snapped them in the first place.
[Insalata Roma: Mesclun greens with roasted red peppers, toasted walnuts, "goat cheese" and balsamic vinaigrette.]
In those days, the style was to dress up your kids, have them sit still for an hour or so while a photographer (who had arrived at your home hours earlier, toting enormous cameras, lenses, black boxes, velvet throws and a host of other tools of the trade) cajoled your child into staring at the camera long enough so that he could snap fifty or so photographs. Then, he went away and developed the photos, returning a few weeks later with the contact prints so that you could choose the one you wanted.
[Purple Monster I: gluten-free pancakes with blended berry sauce and tofu scramble.]
In order to simulate traditional artists’ portraits, the photographer blew up the black and white print to portrait size, then painted over the original with colored oil paints. These “portraits” were then hung in ornate gold frames, usually in the living room or family room. Most of my parents’ friends had similar portraits hanging in their own homes (with their own kids in the frames, that is). In fact, the image of four year-old me, a Mona Lisa smile on her face and hair teased and flipped like a 50s housewife’s, wearing my favorite dress with the white princess collar and pale blue crinolines, still gazes over my dad’s sofa (with matching portraits of each of my sisters on either side).
[Purple Monster II: Red cabbage slaw with green apples, toasted walnuts and poppyseed dressing.]
Why am I telling you all this, you wonder? Well, occasionally there were kids who simply wouldn’t participate (I recall hours of silly voices, fuzzy bears and sparkly jewelry passing before the CFO’s tear-stained face on the day, years later, of her portait-sitting; after almost four hours, the disheveled photographer finally elicited a semi-smile, which is the shot that was ultimately used). Worse, there were sometimes kids who were more than happy to oblige the photographer, but who, after all the developer was mixed, the paper bathed in the stop bath and the photos hung to dry, simply weren’t meant for such things.
[Gluten free pizza with pesto, zucchini, tomatoes, garlic and red onion.]
Well, sometimes, I cook food that tastes great, but for one reason or another, doesn’t give good blog. You know the meals–either you chomp them up too quickly, and by the time you remember to snap a pic, the meal is half gone; or else you snap and snap, eventually tuning in more to the rumbling in your stomach than the food on the table, and give up before you acquire that one useful photo. In these cases, I usually file the pics away, assuming I won’t be using them.
[Thai-inspired Coconut Curry Tofu Scramble with spinach, carrot, peppers and cashews.]
Still, some of those foods were really tasty. And just because they’re not photogenic, does that mean they should miss out? Heck, no! Just like the legendary blind date “with the great personality” (ah, if only I had a dime for all the times I was described in such a way), these dishes are really wonderful if you give them a chance.
[Tuscan Bean Soup, adapted from this recipe--my version below.]
And so, I thought it might be fun to share some of the more homely–yet still appealing–foods I’ve made in the past few months.
Just don’t try to snap their portraits.
“Mum, you know, we let you snap our portraits all the time. But if you want me to smile, well, how about a little cajoling with treats or a frisbee?”
Tuscan Bean Soup
This is a thick, filling, and comforting soup for cooler months. I used the stems from the chard, but found their flavor a bit overpowering; I’d leave them off next time.
1 pound (450 g) dried white beans (Great Northern, cannellini, or navy), picked over and rinsed
Soak beans in cold water overnight, or at least 8 hours. Discard water, rinse the beans, and set aside.
In a large pot or dutch oven, heat the oil over medium heat. Add the onion, fennel and garlic and sauté until the vegetables are soft, 8-10 minutes. Add the beans, stock, water, bay leaf and pepper and simmer, uncovered, until beans are tender, 45 minutes to an hour.
Stir in the swiss chard and salt to taste and continue to simmer, uncovered, stirring occasionally, until chard is tender, 8 to 10 minutes.
Remove about 2 cups of the soup to a blender and blend until smooth, or use an immersion blender and blend briefly in only one or two spots so that most of the soup remains chunky. Stir the blended soup back into the pot, simmer until heated through, and season to taste. Garnish with nutritional yeast, if desired. Makes 6-8 servings. May be frozen.
Well, it appears that summer has finally arrived in Toronto (gee, only two months late!). Under normal circumstances, July and August herald brilliantly sunny days with lush green lawns, a profusion of garden flowers and lazy swishing leaves on tree branches overhanging our suburban streets. The temperatures hover around 30-32C (86-90F), more like 40C (104F) with the Humidex reading (what the temperature actually feels like when you factor in the humidity). Unlike the very unusual circumstances we’ve endured thus far: frigid temperatures and rain, rain, rain.
Since the forecast predicts sun for the rest of the week and weekend, there are many happy Torontonians heading to work today (or, more likely, calling in sick to work today). What does the return to summer mean to me? First off, the four plants I attempted to grow this year (planted back in May) will finally begin to yield some bounty (I noticed a nascent green pepper yesterday evening–whoo hoo!); also, I’ll need to start bringing bottles of water with me on my walks with the dogs (for The Girls, not for me); in addition, my skin will begin to turn the same understated shade of beige as untreated newsprint, implying that I am, indeed, not as anemic as my usual printer-paper white hue would suggest; and, lastly, the only foods I’ll want to eat are those that don’t require cooking. Basically, more than anything else, summer means trying to keep cool.
When I think back to my childhood, my friends and I possessed a huge arsenal of methods to stave off the heat in summer. To wit, running through the sprinkler while wearing our bathing suits. Or walking in the rain in our bathing suits, then rubbing mud all over ourselves and running through the sprinkler to wash it off. Having water pistol fights in our bathing suits, collapsing in a giddy heap on the now-wet (and cool) lawn. Heading down to my parents’ basement, then sneaking into the cedar closet to hold a cool “private clubhouse meeting” in our bathing suits.
These days, I am loathe to do pretty much anything in my bathing suit (who am I kidding? I don’t even own a bathing suit!). Consequently, I’ve had to find other means of cooling down. Sure, I can run through the sprinkler wearing my T-shirt and shorts, but that isn’t nearly as much fun. Instead, I seek out summer foods that will do the job.
Often, all I want for dinner is a fresh leafy salad or sliced tomato or crisp granny smith apple (now that the latter have finally made their return on my menus) and be done with it. Not so the HH. So, the other evening after a later-than-usual walk with The Girls, the HH and I returned home to utter the eternal DDD question: what should we have for dinner? (Unlike so many of my bloggy peers, I am not gifted with the ability to plan my week’s menus in advance; besides, my tastes are so capricious that I’d probably change my mind on the designated day and decide I wanted something else entirely).
Most evenings, we pull open the refrigerator door and stand immobile, peering up and across each shelf as we scan the contents for a sign: which of the melee of fruits and veggies do we feel like consuming at that moment? (Sometimes this procedure takes far too long and really is not very eco-friendly, what with that door open the whole time. So then I feel even more guilty about not pre-planning my menus. On the other hand, it diminishes the need for air conditioning).
For some reason, lately, I’ve been on a cucumber kick. I’d never been enamored of cucumbers as a kid (or even a young woman), but recently, I seem to crave cucumbers. I can’t get enough cucumber. I love me some cucumber! (Okay, I’m exaggerating a tad. While that last sentence is, in fact, true, I’ve also been fixated for a time on the wild, wacky and perverse search terms that people use to find this blog. That last line was just really just my way of provoking the searches. Being provocative with a cucumber, if you will. Ooops, there I go again.)
In any case, we found a lovely, firm, English cucumber (yikes, can’t seem to help myself) in the fridge, and I pondered how I could use it besides on its own as a snack. Then I remembered all the bookmarked recipes I’d set aside in Nava Atlas’s fabulous Vegan Soups and Hearty Stews for All Seasons, which I wrote about shortly after receiving the book last winter. At the time, cold cucumber soup was a distant memory–but now it’s finally summer! I knew the soup would be perfect.
We whipped up a batch of Cool as a Cucumber Soup in no time, and devoured almost the entire contents in one sitting (the recipe actually serves 4-6 people, but we loved it that much). I also had the leftovers the next day for lunch and can vouch that it doesn’t suffer from its overnight sojourn in the fridge. In fact, I’d say the herbs made their presence known just a bit more the second day, and all the flavors had a chance to meld.
The soup is thick and rich with shreds of bouncy and refreshing cucumber throughout. The combination of three fresh herbs provides a lovely counterpoint with their aromatic flavors and bit of crunch, offset by the slightly pungent scallion slices scattered here and there. Every spoonful provided a little oasis of cool.
I have no doubt that this soup will become a summer staple from now on with its refreshing, cooling effects. Just don’t expect me to wear my bathing suit when I eat it.
[Oh--and some cool news re: Sweet Freedomfor those of you in the Toronto area! I'll be appearing on Toronto's Breakfast Televisionnext Monday, talking about healthy cakes, frostings and toppings, and sampling some of the goodies from the book! Yippee!]
A wonderful way to cool off on a hot summer’s day, this soup comes together very quickly and allows for a lot of leeway with herbs and seasonings.
2 large cucumbers, peeled and seeded [I used an extra-large English cuke]
about 1-1/4 cups (300 ml) vegan sour cream [I used Nava's recipe, or use this one, with a bit less agave nectar]
1/2 cup (120 ml) finely chopped fresh herbs, such as dill, parsley and mint [I used parsley, basil and mint]
1-2 scallions, green parts only, thinly sliced
1-1/2 cups (360 ml) rice or unsweetened soy or almond milk
juice of 1/2 lemon (or more, to taste)
1/2 tsp. ( 2.5 ml) ground cumin, or more to taste
salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
Grate the cucumbers on a coarse grater, either by hand or in a food processor fitted with a grating disk.
Transfer the cucumbers to a serving container. Stir in the sour cream, herbs, scallions and enough rice milk to give the soup a slightly thick consistency. Season with lemon juice, cumin, salt and pepper. Serve at once or refrigerate until well chilled.
Variation: For a heartier version of this soup, add a cup or so of cold, cooked barley.
For a pleasantly peppery flavor, stir in a good handful of chopped watercress leaves.
[Okay, so the post title is a bit obscure (I was alluding to Four Weddings and a Funeral)--but with the Oscars coming up in a couple of days, and with my having seen, hmmn, let's see--a total of "zero" of the movies, I wanted to make reference to that grand little Golden Guy in some way or other in this post. ]
Shindig One: The most recent celebration we enjoyed here in the DDD household was an intimate birthday dinner for my friend Eternal Optimist (consisting of just the EO, the HH, and me).We three enjoyed a spectacular, yet simple meal of Potato-Miso Soup (Alisa’s uniquely delicious recipe: satiny smooth, rich and slightly yeasty from the hint of miso–in fact, this was the second time I’ve made this in a week!); trusty Tagine of Quinoa with Chickpeas, Olives and Prunes (always a hit around here); garlic sautéed rapini and collards; and a special b-day cake (chocolate layers with sugar-free chocolate buttercream frosting (both from Sweet Freedom) and the Sweet Potato Frosting I wrote about a while back.
It was grand to spend a leisurely evening together fêting a dear friend. The EO also brought along her own pooch, another border collie cross, and The Girls were in heaven. (“We love having our friends over, too, Mum! Except next time, there should be a cake that we can eat as well.”)
Shindig Two: In addition to the birthday, the dinner was also occasion for a spontaneous mini-celebration in honor of the cookbook finally reaching the publisher. After numerous delays in formatting and glitches with the cover, it’s finally on its way! My publishing rep called yesterday to confirm that she received the files and their part of the book’s production will begin next week. YIPPPPPPEEEEEE!! (Of course, this means it will still take about three months before the book is in print, but it is out of my hands at this point). I can’t even begin to express what a relief that is! So we had a little toast in honor of Sweet Freedom last evening as well.
Shindig Three: Despite mountains of marking, I’ll be peeking in periodically at the Academy Awards, that shindig to beat all shindigs, that tribute to all things silicone and Juvéderm and Botox, that massive glitterati ego-massage that will take place on Sunday evening. From the Barbara Walters interviews to the Joan Rivers gaffes to the melodramatic and slurred acceptance speeches, I love it all. And even if I haven’t actually seen any of the movies, who cares? That’s not what the Oscars are all about, anyway!
Before I depart on break, I thought it might be fun to leave you with a little midterm quiz of your own to ponder while I’m away (and the best part–it doesn’t matter whether you know the answers or not!). I’ll reveal the “correct” responses when I get back (though with a bit of sleuthing, it should be fairly easy to find them before then).
[Chocolate birthday cake in all its uncut glory]
A Diet, Dessert and Dogs Mid-Term Quiz
Instructions: Please answer each of the following questions. Note that this is an open-blog test; answers can be found in previous entries. Please double space your answers.
1) DDD stands for:
a) The 2009, eco-friendly version of the pesticide “DDT”
b) Pamela Anderson’s bra size (now that she’s had a breast reduction)
The dozen or so of you who were reading my blog last year at this time probably remember how much I hate the snowy season. (How much, you ask? As much as Gepetto hates dishonesty. As much as Ellen loves Portia. As much as the calories in a deep-fried Mars Bar (with whipped cream on top). As much as union disagrees with management. As much as my eternal incredulity at the popularity of Julia Roberts.) This morning, when I emitted a plaintive little lament about the fact that we’ve already surpassed last year’s (record-breaking) snowfall for this date, the HH helpfully piped up, “Yeah, and we’ve still got over a month more of this to go!” Gee, thanks, sweetheart.
So, what to do about a wall of pelting snow every time you leave the house, ice crystals forming on your eyebrows, the grey rime that coats your glasses like vaseline on a camera lens?
Make soup, that’s what.
When I was a carefree singleton* back in the early 90s, I developed a Friday evening cooking ritual. After arriving home from work, I’d change into sweats and a T-shirt, then spend most of the evening cooking food for the following week. By the end of the week, I was usually too pooped to socialize anyway, and I found cooking to be incredibly meditative. (Besides, if anything bettermale intellectually stimulating came up instead, I wasn’t irrevocably tied to my plan; I’d just cook the following day). I’d pack the prepared dishes into plastic containers, then freeze them for consumption later on. A relaxing evening plus seven days of healthy, homemade food–a pretty good arrangement, I thought.
In those days, I tended to cook a lot of soups. Perhaps I was subconsciously emulating my mom, whose chicken soup graced our stovetop every Friday evening as far back as I can remember. In fact, the very first recipe I cooked in my very first apartment was soup–split pea and ham, as I recall (which is odd, since even then I didn’t really like meat, and I’d never tasted ham at all before that–or since). In the interim, I’ve expanded my repertoire a bit, enjoying a variety of traditional or exotic or unusual soups over the years. With its ability to embrace any and all stray vegetables, then bathe them in a warm, soothing broth, vitamin and mineral-rich soup is an ideal meal-in-a-bowl.
Strangely, once the HH and I began seeing each other, I all but stopped making soups on Friday nights (he seemed to think our courtship should take place alongside a wine bottle rather than a stockpot). Then, a couple of weeks ago, I received a copy of Nava Atlas’s newly released Vegan Soups and Hearty Stews for All Seasons (this is a 4th edition of her earlier VegetarianSoups for All Seasons) as part of the book’s virtual tour. Suddenly, soup was back on my radar. And I must tell you, I think this book has singlehandedly renewed my zeal for soup making.
The book is divided by season, so it made sense that the fall and winter offerings would appeal most right now, with innovative and interesting combinations like Broccoli, Apple and Peanut Soup or Almond-Brussels Sprouts Soup (which I just enjoyed for lunch today–splendid!), and classics like Hearty Barley-Bean Soup or Minestrone. But the spring and summer were equally tantalizing, with recipes for Creole Eggplant Soup and Gingery Miso-Spinach Soup and Strawberry Colada Soup. (Now I have yet another reason to wish winter would end soon.)
With our seemingly irrepressible mountains of snow (now taller than the HH, who is over 6 feet/1.8 meters) outside, a hearty winter stew seemed just the right antidote. This Sweet and Sour Cabbage and Bread Stew is a perfectly warming, filling, tasty combination, with a substantial broth, in which you simmer a variety of winter veggies, all imbued with a subtle sweet and piquant tang. Initially, the HH was a bit reluctant to try it (paradoxically, the guy will eat anything and everything if it’s derived from an animal, but is entirely unadventurous when it comes to vegetable dishes). After the first few spoonfuls, however, he pronounced it “a keeper” and was content to have nothing more than this for dinner.
I’m happy to say that I’m even looking forward to getting back in the swing of Friday evening soup-a-thons. And these days, I won’t be cooking alone (hear that, HH?).
“Mum, you know that we’d love to help you cook, too, if we could. There’s just this little matter of the ’no opposable thumbs’ thing. But we’re still more than happy to help clean up the leftovers.”
* Okay, I was never “carefree,” but more like “unattached, at loose ends, having no weekend plans.” The closest I’ve ever gotten to “carefree” was probably during that time before I embraced all the responsibilities and anxieties of adulthood–like, maybe, when I was three.
Here’s a variation of classic sweet-and-sour cabbage soup, given a bit more heft with bread cubes nestled in each serving.
3 to 4 cups (720 to 960 ml) cubed (about 1 inch) Italian or sourdough bread [I used spelt sourdough--which, as you can see in the photo, comes pre-sliced; still tasted great!]
2 Tbsp (30 ml) olive oil
2 large onions, quartered and thinly sliced
3 to 4 cloves garlic
5 cups (1200 ml) water
2 large carrots, peeled and diced
2 large or 3 medium potatoes, diced
4 cups (960 ml) coarsely shredded green cabbage
1 medium green or red bell pepper, diced
One 16-ounce (450 g) can salt-free diced or stewed tomatoes, undrained
Preheat the oven to 300F (150C). Spread the bread cubes in a single layer on a baking sheet and bake until golden and crisp, about 12 to 15 minutes. Remove from the oven and set aside.
Heat the oil in a large soup pot. Add the onions and garlic and sauté over medium heat until golden, about 10 minutes.
Add the water, carrots, potatoes, cabbage, bell peppers, tomatoes, wine, paprika, and cumin. Bring to a rapid simmer, then lower the heat. Cover and simmer gently for 30 to 35 minutes, or until the vegetables are tender.
Stir in the lemon juice and sugar. There should be a subtle sweet-sour balance. If you’d like it to be more pronounced, add more lemon juice and/or sugar to your liking.
Season with salt and pepper, then simmer over very low heat for 10 minutes longer. If time allows, let the stew stand off the heat for an hour or two, then heat through before serving.
When ready to serve, divide the bread cubes among the serving bowls and ladle the stew over them. The bread will absorb much of the liquid and add a tasty, textural element to the stew.
Per serving:
Calories: 231 Total fat: 6 g Protein: 6 g Fiber: 6 g
Carbohydrate: 43 g Cholesterol: 0 mg Sodium: 114 mg
Years ago (oops, make that a decade), during the tumultuous year after my starter marriage dissolved, I lived with my friend Gemini I. As two single thirty-somethings interested in social events or activities that might bring us into contact with eligible men, we decided to try out some cooking classes (what were we thinking? We might as well have looked for guys in the pantyhose department at Macy’s. . . oh, wait a sec: apparently, in Australia, that’s exactly where you might meet some guys these days).
In any case, we signed up for one series run by a well-heeled Toronto chatelaine who’d attended Le Cordon Bleu (it was only a weekend seminar, but she never told us that) and decided to teach classes out of her home. It took just one evening, and I was hooked; after that, Gemini I and I attended about half a dozen more classes as well. It’s not that I actually learned very much; and the food, while fine, wasn’t the most spectacular I’d had, either. But oh, what a house!
Oh my, how I envied her house. Situated beside a thickly forested ravine on a cul-de-sac in the tony Rosedale area, Ms. Culinati’s residence was a massive, ivy-covered, stone-and-brick Tudor style mansion of at least 5,000 square feet, almost more like a museum than a home. At over 100 years old, the building’s interior had been completely renovated and rendered ultra-modern inside. The setup was perfect for cooking classes: after passing beneath the towering entryway, we participants filed across the open-concept first floor (tiled in marble), toward a state-of-the-art kitchen just off the entrance. There were six cushy stools lined up against one side of a wide, grey and black granite peninsula, which also divided the room and separated us from the cooking area.
Ms. Cordon Bleu held forth on the opposite side of the counter behind the built-in stainless steel stovetop, prepping ingredients and chattering about the best shop in Paris to buy Le Creuset, the plumpest, most perfect berries at All the Best on Summerhill (even back then, I recall that a pint–about 500 ml.–of strawberries cost over $4.00 at that store), or how she flew to New York last weekend to pick up the very best fleur de sel(because really, you simply couldn’t use anything less).
Despite the fact that our personal orbits existed in completely different universes, I still enjoyed the recipes, the skillfully selected wines that accompanied them, and the stolen glances around the rest of the house as I ostensibly attended to our cooking. And, of course, it was always rewarding to have an evening out with Gemini I.
Most of the dishes I encountered in those classes, I will never make again, either because they contain ingredients I no longer eat, or because they contain ingredients far too extravagant for everyday consumption (last I heard, her courses had morphed into all-out travel tours, wherein participants flew to Tuscany for a week to cook and live together in a villa. Who are these people, and how can I be written into the will? Just asking).
Still, almost despite herself, in one class Ms. C.B. provided us with this recipe for Curried Root Vegetable Chowder with Dumplings. And while the original soup contained chicken broth, butter and wheat flour, it was a cinch to convert.
I’ve loved this chowder since the first time I slurped it back in the 1990s. It’s one of the easiest soups you’ll ever make (and while the dumplings are marvelous and do elevate the broth an echelon, you can just as easily forego the sophistication, toss in some elbow pasta, and happily spoon this up for a quick weekday dinner). Once the veggies are chopped, it’s a matter of a quick sauté, a splash of prepared broth, and a sprinkling of ONE spice: mild curry powder. It also makes use of an underused, but very tasty, root veggie: celery root.
It sounds almost too simple, I know; but believe me, the result will astonish you. The varying levels of sweetness from the different roots, along with the whisper of curry, combine for a soothing, warming and entirely captivating dish. This is one soup you’ll want to stay at home for. In fact, it’s the perfect soup to charm those eligible guys–that is, once you find them.
This month’s No Croutons Required is asking for soups or salads with pasta. I’m hoping these dumplings count. The event was started by Lisa and Holler and is this month being hosted by Holler.
Curried Root Vegetable Chowder with Dumplings
(adapted from a very old recipe from The Art of Food Cooking School)
This is the perfect soup to serve to guests; the dumplings elevate this to a fancier level, yet the soup is down to earth and very appealing. For a gluten-free option, omit the dumplings or use your favorite dumpling recipe with GF flour.
2 Tbsp. (30 ml.) extra virgin olive oil
1 small onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
1-1/2 tsp. (7.5 ml.) mild curry powder
4 cups vegetable broth
2 medium carrots, peeled, halved and cut into 1/2-inch (1 cm) pieces
2 large parsnips, peeled, thick end halved lengthwise, and cut into 1/2 inch (1 cm.) pieces
1 small celery root (celeriac), trimmed, peeled and cut into 1/4 inch (1/2 cm) cubes
1 medium sweet potato (yam), peeled and cut into 1/2 inch (1 cm.) cubes
1 tsp. (5 ml.) sea salt, if broth is unsalted
freshly chopped cilantro, for garnish
Dumplings:
1 cup (140 g.) spelt flour
1-1/2 tsp. (7.5 ml.) baking powder
1/2 tsp. (2.5 ml.) sea salt
1/2 tsp. (2.5 ml.) nutmeg
2 Tbsp. (30 ml.) cold coconut oil
1/4 cup (60 ml.) currants
5-6 Tbsp. (75-90 ml.) unsweetened soymilk or almond milk
To make the soup, heat the oil in a large pot or dutch oven over medium heat. Add the onion and cook for 3 mintues. Add the garlic and curry powder and cook for another minute or so.
Stir in the broth, carrots and parsnips. Bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer. Cover and simmer for 10 minutes. Stir in the celery root and sweet potato and cook for 10 more minutes.
Meanwhile, make the dumplings: In a medium bowl, sift the flour, baking powder, salt and nutmeg. Rub in the coconut oil (pinch the mixture between your thumb and fingers repeatedly) until the mixutre resembles a coarse meal. Add currants and toss to coat. Add milk and stir with a fork until the mixture comes together.
Season the broth with salt and pepper to taste. Then roll bits of the dumpling dough (about a tablespoon for each) into balls and place on top of the simmering broth. Cover and cook without disturbing for 15 minutes. Remove the cover and divide the soup into 4 bowls [I've found it makes much more than this]. Garnish with cilantro and serve. May be frozen.
This recipe is suitable for gluten free, soy-free, vegan, and ACD diets (contains coconut milk).
