Diet, Dessert and Dogs

Years ago, I saw a cartoon in a women’s magazine.  In the frame were two girls aged about 5 or 6, facing each other.

Girl One (self-satisfied smile on her face): My mommy lets me eat candy every day.

Girl Two:  (scowling): That’s not candy, stupid.  That’s broccoli.

Girl One (crushed):  You mean. . . broccoli isn’t candy?

I remember thinking, Ah, if only parents could convince their kids to eat broccoli that easily!

Even though I don’t have kids of my own (“What do you mean, Mum?  Aren’t we your kids?”), I’ve come to realize from being with my cousins’ and friends’ children that kids can have some pretty idiosyncratic eating habits indeed.

Way back in high school biology class, we learned that children’s taste buds are much more attuned to sweet tastes than are adult’s taste buds. So flavors that appeal to a child (I’m thinking Froot Loops, Jawbreakers, chocolate-covered marshmallows) can be cringe-inducing and lip-puckeringly sweet to a grown-up.  In addition, we tend to develop tastes for things as adults that we wouldn’t get close to as kids (artichokes, anyone? Or how about avocados? And I’m still amazed that I could have ever hated coconut!).

I’ll never forget visiting with my friend T’s family when I was around six.  Every weekend in the summer, T’s parents would lug me along with their brood to their country house up in the Laurentians. It was basically a big box made out of wood with a stove on one end and a sofa on the other; T and I slept up in the attic, which we loved, as if afforded us our own private bunkhouse where we’d occasionally retreat during the day as well, to escape T’s bratty younger brother, M.

One morning as we made our way down the ladder for breakfast, I spied T’s mother carrying out what looked like contorted performance art, flapping her elbow as she swirled a butter knife inside the peanut butter jar. When I asked what she was doing, she replied, “Well, M will only eat peanut butter from a new jar, with a smooth, fresh surface on top. So before he wakes up every morning,” (and with this, she smiled at me conspiratorially), I smooth it out for him so he’ll think it’s new.”  Even at age six, I remember thinking, “Wow, that is an awful lot of work just to convince a snotty-nosed four year-old to eat peanut butter.”

My friend Babe’s daughter, on the other hand, refuses to consume any kind of pasta dish but one: a specialty they call ”Aunty K’s Pasta,” a basic butter-and-cheese macaroni that her aunt prepares at home and delivers to Babe’s house once a week.  Babe then rewarms the pasta and serves it alongside whatever she’s made for dinner that night.

My own peculiar childhood culinary proclivities ran the gamut from cutting my mom’s homemade hamburgers into tiny, bite-sized pieces, then burying them in the accompanying mound of mashed potatoes before I’d scoop up the whole mess, forkful by forkful (even back  then, it seems, I didn’t want to see meat on my plate!); to casting out coconut (see above), to eschewing cheese cake (crazy, I know), to filling my chicken soup with so many crushed soda crackers that it resembled gruel more than soup; to spurning strawberry ice cream.

In fact, I hated any kind of fruit at all in ice cream in those days, but strawberry  was by far the worst offender. Chocolate was my one and only flavor of choice, and it was all I ever ordered when we were lucky enough to be taken to the local ice cream parlor. As the years went by, I broadened my scope a wee bit and would occasionally ask for Double Chocolate Chip (chocolate with a side of chocolate chips); Chocolate Swirl (chocolate with a side of chocolate sauce);  or Heavenly Hash (chocolate with a side of chocolate chips, chocolate sauce and chocolate brownie bits). Basically, it was all chocolate, all the time.

 As it turned out, my dad’s favorite ice cream was Neapolitan, with its equal stripes of chocolate, vanilla and strawberry; I had to make do. My tactic was to remove the entire box from the freezer, allow it to soften somewhat, then scrape along the outside edges of the chocolate and vanilla stripes, leaving the pink pariah virtually untouched.  Eventually, I’d eat almost all of the other two flavors, leaving a slightly melty mound of strawberry in the center surrounded by a kind of moat all around it, like those abandoned sand castles you see on the beach that were washed over by the tide a few times.

I’m glad to say that these days, my tastes in ice cream range far and wide (though a quick glance at this blog’s Recipe Index does suggest a heavy emphasis on chocolate-based  ice creams). Today’s recipe is one I developed for the Sweet Victory cleanse, and it’s been a huge hit here in the DDD household. Of its dense, creamy texture,  The HH remarked, ”It’s like a really good quality ice cream.” And one of the Sweet Victory participants wrote, “I loved the caramel ice cream (sort of like magic…I can’t figure how that combination turns into caramel, but it does). ”

In other words, don’t let the odd mix of ingredients here deter you. This really does taste like caramel!  And topped with the warm cinnamon-apple mix, it’s like pure comfort in a bowl. Of course, if you prefer not to combine your caramel with apples (or if you happen to have some fussy kids at home), just leave it off and have the ice cream on its own. Or add a handful of chocolate chips, or some chocolate sauce, or brownie bits. . . you know you just can’t go wrong with chocolate. 

“Mum, that ice cream sounds great and all, but what do you mean, broccoli isn’t candy? Next thing you’ll be telling us is that sweet potatoes aren’t meat!”

This is my contribution to this week’s Slightly Indulgent Tuesday and  Wellness Weekend event.

Last Year at this Time: Mint Chip Ice Cream–No Ice Cream Maker Required! (Gluten free; ACD All Stages)

Two Years Ago: ACD Update: A Return to Sweetness

You Might Also Like:Coconut Ice Cream (No Ice Cream Maker Required)

© Diet, Dessert and Dogs

Y’all are familiar with oxymorons, right? (no, I’m not referring to your  neighbor who fires up that buzz saw at 6:30 AM all summer; or your coworker who spilled coffee all over your crucial report; or your Aunt Edna who practically yodelled the news that you were pregnant even before you told your best friend–those are all just plain “morons.”).  Oxymorons are those odd-but-true figures of speech that encapsulate two apparently contradictory terms (or opposites) in what turns out to contain actuality:

• That metal post was so cold that it burned my fingers.
• After his speech, the silence was deafening.
• (a gem from Woody Allen): “Life is full of misery, loneliness, and suffering–and it’s all over much too soon.”
• (on the same theme, from Ashley Montagu): “I want to die young at a ripe old age.”
• (. . . and, the classic from George Carlin): Jumbo Shrimp.

For me, one of the most memorable oxymorons in real life was what I call The Summer of Uncertainty. It was the summer I met an incredibly gorgeous, incredibly romantic man.

During the second summer of my PhD, I found myself living in the university residence. While all my friends were occupied with their current boyfriends, I, as usual, was single.  Why couldn’t I find a boyfriend, I wondered? I mean, wasn’t I as smart as my friends? Wasn’t I as funny? Wasn’t I (almost) as good looking? It just didn’t seem fair: they all had beaux, and I–none. (Why, it was sort of like an oxymoron!). I resigned myself to yet another summer alone.

And then, on a whim, I went with an old friend to a Saturday night bash at another friend’s house. Almost as soon as we arrived, I was approached by a tall, astonishingly handsome man (let’s call him “Rock.”)  Towering over me in a dusty blue T-shirt and black jeans, a tousle of slick, onxy-black hair and a jaw even more square than your grandparents morals, Rock beguiled me from the first instant, and didn’t leave my side all evening. I could barely concentrate on our witty repartee, I was so taken by his good looks.  Could he–was it possible?–be interested in l’il ole me? Naw, I thought, which freed me up for a great evening of conversation. At the end of the night, I said my goodbye.  Rock smiled and murmured that it had been great to meet me.

The following Monday, when I sauntered into the graduate English department, the secretary beckoned me to her desk. ”There’s this guy who keeps calling and asking for your number,” she said.  “He says he met you last Saturday–his name is Rock.”  My cheeks flushed crimson. ” Who the heck is this guy, anyway?” she asked. “Well, I told him I’d give his number to you if you wanted it.” She handed me a piece of paper.  If I wanted it?!  Was she kidding??!!

Maybe it was my scintillating conversational skills that had prompted him to track me down.  Or perhaps it was our mutual love of Modern American Literature.  Most likely it was the hot pink mini dress and white fishnet stockings I wore that evening. Whatever the reason, I didn’t care–I called him back immediately.  That call prompted a summer of romantic, entertaining, intense, exciting and confusing evenings.  

“Confusing”? Why, yes. You see, I never did quite figure out Rock’s motives. Let me give you an example: for our first date, Rock took me to a Bruce Springsteen concert (believe it or not, I didn’t know who The Boss was before that evening.  Of course, I realized immediately that I was familar with every single song he sang. Thrill!). After the concert ended, Rock walked me back to residence, rode up the elevator to my room, stood outside the door and gazed down into my (entirely mesmerized) eyes.  And then. . . he said, “This was fun. Goodnight.”  And walked away!  No “can I come in?”  No attempt to make a pass.  No kiss on the forehead.  No hug, even! “Okay,” I reasoned, “first date.”  No biggie.

Another rendez-vous was a custom picnic in Earle Bales Park, one of the largest and most beautiful parks in the city.  Rock’s basket was brimming with glass wine goblets, real silverware and china plates.  The food was from Toronto’s premier upper-crust shop at the time, Bersani & Carlevale. (Before that evening, I’d often passed by the shop and lingered, longingly, at the window, knowing I could never afford anything inside). Rock’s culinary choices included a good cabernet sauvignon, crusty bread with all manner of spreads and dips (artichoke-caper compote, oozy cambozola, giant, spicy, brined green olives and rabbit pâté–my first–and only–encounter with rabbit as food, which I declined to try, though I chose not to hold it against him).  We ate our feast on a blanket on the grass, then watched a live performance of Romeo and Juliet in the park. Seriously, what could be more romantic?

Or imagine this: after an hour-long, meandering midnight phone call (topics included TS Eliot, American Literature, Hemingway, the fact that Rock had had a poem published–good thing he couldn’t see me swoon over the phone–and Ezra Pound), I returned to my campus residence the next afternoon to discover my mailbox overflowing with a hand-painted card, a copy of Eliot’s The Wasteland, and one perfect red rose.  ”I thought you might enjoy this,” Rock had written inside. “Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee/ With a shower of rain.“  Swoon, Take Two.

And yet. . . every shared evening ended the same way, with Rock gazing into my eyes, thanking me–and promptly leaving.  By the end of August, I was more than perplexed; I was downright frustrated. One evening, I couldn’t resist posing The Question: just what, I wondered aloud, were his feelings toward me? (any woman who’s ever posed the question already knows it as “The Relationship Kiss of Death”).  Now he was the one who seemed perplexed.  “Well, I like you,” he stammered. Yep, clear as mud. Shortly thereafter, I returned to my PhD and Rock returned to his job; fairly quickly, the connection faded.  It wasn’t until many years later, my girlish naiveté finally evaporated, that it struck me: holy moly! What if Rock were gay?

I never did find out.  Instead, Rock left me with some unique memories of a summer filled with music, poetry, culture, and great food. In fact, it was he who served me one of the best pasta salads I’ve ever tasted, a combination of pesto, garlicky bruschetta tomatoes, and finely chopped vegetables, all mixed with Italian spices and a sprinkling of sass.  I had never tasted pesto before, and I was besotted. 

This 2011 iteration offers a creamy alternative highlighting the flavors of basil and cilantro. The smooth sauce hugs the pasta with just the right hint of richness and a little heat from the sriracha.  With the occasional crunch from fresh vegetables and a touch of citrus, the salad is delicious either cold or at room temperature. It’s the perfect dish for a buffet, or a quick dinner for two.

Rock, this one’s for you.  As you savor it, I hope you’ll experience both cool delight and the spark of spicy heat, all at the same time.  Think of it as my gift for that summer long ago, my own gastonomic oxymoron made just for you. 

This post is linked to Gluten-Free Wednesdays and Seasonal Sundays.

Last Year at this Time: Out of Character: Sweet and Sour Chickpeas

Two Years Ago: Blog Break

Three Years Ago: Lucky Comestible III (3): Mango Avocado Salad (Gluten free; not ACD Friendly)

[Ah, if only I were truly still enjoying my salad days . . . in reality, I am firmly ensconced smack-dab in the middle of my "main course" days.  But you can enjoy this salad at any age!]

Now that summer is undeniably underway in these parts (nothing spells “summer” quite like a week of temperatures soaring beyond 33C/92F),  heavy duty cooking and baking seem so. . . unnecessary.  I find myself yearning for more raw foods, more fresh foods, and fewer baked goods at the moment (though ice cream cravings do still “scream” rather loudly).  

A heatwave such as we endured last week always takes me back to the first year the HH and I lived together, in a miniscule bungalow in the east end of town bordering Scarborough. Not the best neighborhood (there was a murder around the corner from our place, after which I never walked on that street again), the house was, nevertheless, the best we could afford at the time. 

Our home was a post-war structure, so tiny it effectively impersonated one of those Fischer Price dollhouses (sans a live toddler, of course). The living room was replete with dusty rose Pier One loveseat and 27 year-old console television, with no room for much else; the bathroom was so narrow that you had to turn sideways to brush your teeth; and the master bedroom, located directly above the (uninsulated) front porch, was an icebox in winter and veritable kiln in summer.

Now, if you’ve ever been to Toronto in the summertime, you will likely remember one important characteristic about this city.  No, it’s not the CN tower (no longer the tallest freestanding structure in the world).  No, it’s not Toronto’s reputation as the most multicultural city in the world (even though it is).  Not the fact that, for a couple of wild nights in June, 2010, its denizens blushed as the city lost its unofficial title of ”Most Polite Metropolis in North America.”  And not even that Jim Carrey, Mike Meyers, Alanis Morissette,  Eric McCormack, Howie Mandel and Rachel McAdams all hail from here, either. 

[No air conditioning?  This salad will cool you down on those 30C days!]

Nope, the most prominent feature of summertime in Toronto is the all encompassing, overwhelming, whacks-you-in-the-face-the-instant-you-exit-the-air-conditioning, humidity.  And as it happened during that first summer in our shoebox abode, the city suffered one of its hottest seasons in decades. With no air conditioning in the house, we were forced to rely on that age-old standard, the electric fan. 

Here’s the scene:  it’s 11:30 PM, and the temperature is still hovering around 30C (86F), 40C with the humidex. At the foot of the queen-sized futon (which on its own nearly fills the room) sits a dresser on which is perched two fans, one trained on me, one on the HH. In addition, a ceiling fan spins at high speed through the night, slightly off balance and wobbling like a magician’s spinning plate trick. To complete the fan club*, a free-standing fan is positioned on the floor off to the side so it sweeps across our bed every ten seconds or so.  We settle down for the night.

But we don’t sleep.  Even with our own little self-constructed Jet Stream, we endured a hellish, fitful seven hours, tossing and turning and perspiring so much that by morning our bed was practically transformed into a private indoor wading pool. (Okay, I exaggerate–but just a little.  The upside, I suppose, is that I lost 2 pounds that night).    

Happily, our current rental home came equipped with A/C, and, despite any residual guilt about the environment or the increased costs in summer (further enhanced this year by the lovely HST), we are glad we can use it when the humidex reaches 43C (110F), as it did last week.  And The Girls appreciate it, too.

“Yes, Mum, we do appreciate it. And since we have no sweat glands, it’s especially nice to be able to inhale that cool air from the vents and pant to lower our body temperatures. We like swimming, too–just don’t put us anywhere near that ’pool’ you just mentioned. Gross!” 

This type of heat leads to lethargy; add to that my marking-induced stupor and I just haven’t felt like cooking. 

Enter salads!

Since we’ve been eating salad almost exclusively throughout the past week, I thought I’d highlight a few of my very favorites over the next few days. To begin, today’s installment is a long-time standard from my friend and colleague Caroline Dupont’s cookbook.  Ever since I attended Caroline’s raw cooking classes back in nutrition school, I’ve loved this salad , a staple in our house over the warmer months.  I can’t believe I haven’t posted it before this!

The lively mélange of colorful, fresh and crispy vegetables and fruit marries beautifully with the slightly sweet and tart dressing.  Although I’m not a fan of fresh fennel, the ground fennel in this dressing adds just the perfect whisper of licorice to complement the juicy sweetness of the apples.  Every mouthful offers up a different parade of colors, flavors and textures to treat your palate to some first-class, sparkly raw gustatory entertainment (and a whole rainbow of antioxidants and healthy fats to boot). And it’s ready in around 10 minutes–without heat or any real physical exertion (except for the chewing–of which there will be quite a bit, I wager).  

The original recipe calls for raisins (I included them in the photo, which was the HH’s serving), and feel free to use them if you’re not following an anti-candida diet (which would be, um, the other 99.9% of you out there?). For those of us restricted to candida-busting regimens, there’s an ACD-friendly variation following.

* Sorry. I had to.

Today’s Question: What’s your favorite cooling meal in summer?

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I’m also submitting this recipe to Amy’s Slightly Indulgent Tuesdays over at Simply Sugar and Gluten Free.  Go check out the other amazing submissions!

Last Year at this Time: Lucky Comestible 5 (1): Fresh and Spicy Cilantro Sauce

Two Years Ago: Zucchini & Pineapple Mini Loaves (with hidden avocado!)–for ACD maintenance only.

© 2010 Diet, Dessert and Dogs

[THANKS, everyone, for your comments in response to my question at the end of my last post.  I appreciate all the different perspectives and will address the issue next time!  If you haven't added your two cents yet, you still can. I'd love to hear from you!]

Ah, the crazy, lazy days of summer.

Well, at least I got it half right.

Ack!! I’m going nuts over here!  Bonkers!  Batty! Off the deep end! Loco!  Folle!  Verrückt! Whack! Or, as Susan Powter used to say,

“STOP THE INSANITEEEEEEEE!!”. 

Well, really, it’s my own fault.  I mean, it’s crunch time at my job, but I’m still motoring full-speed ahead with cookbook promotion (which is still on sale, too! You can check it out here).  And starting to write a new one (more on that anon).  And maintaining this blog.  AND writing articles as a freelancer. AND agreeing to talk at various nutrition events.  Oh, and somehow making sure my HH doesn’t forget what I look like through all of this.  Not to mention the very high-maintenance Girls.

“Excuse me, Mum, but I resemble that remark–I mean, resent that remark.  True, my fur sheds like nobody’s business and true, if you don’t play with me when I ask, I start to howl and moan and growl and bark at you, and true, if you continue to ignore me, I go over to Elsie and bite her ear and paw her until she finally plays with me, but what do you mean, ‘high maintenance’? What? Aren’t all dogs like that?”

Well, the only reason they get away with it (okay, it’s actually only Chaser) is because they are so gosh-darned cute.  And because being with them lowers my blood pressure, which is actually helpful while I’m drowning in this welter of marking, writing, marking, baking, marking, writing, marking, cooking, marking and marking.  And marking.

I really wanted to share this ingenious recipe for Rhubarb Swirl Ice Cream–especially since it’s time for another SOS Roundup in just four days! (c’mon, folks, get those rhubarb recipes in while you can!)–but I just don’t have time to write another blog post today.  So I’ve decided to give the task over to The Girls, and let them earn their keep, a little. 

Sorry, but I’m just too busy to let you know about how insanely creamy this ice cream is, or how it uses walnuts and coconut milk for an ultra-rich and smooth base that doesn’t turn to ice in the freezer, or how the meandering pink swirl of tangy rhubarb is simple to make and can also be used as a compote or topping instead, or how the HH and I scooped up the entire batch of this ice cream in in three days flat.  Nope, no time for that. I’ll just have to leave it up to The Girls to convey the message for me.

Over to you, Elsie

 and Chaser

And happy reading, everyone!

OOOh, Elsie–I mean, Ellen–can you believe it??!! Mum is letting us take over the blog!  Whooopeee!  Oh, I’m so excited, I can’t believe it, I have to writhe on the ground and grrrrrrr and yelp and bite your ear and—

 Zip it, Chaser, or we’ll never get this done.  Mum has bestowed this responsibility upon us and we must take it seriously. Oh, and you don’t have to call me Ellen for a while.  The show is on hiatus for the summer, so they’re not paying attention, anyway. But if people want to send a message to the show in support of Mum being on it, this is a great time, because Ellen’s people will have more time to read them! Now, let me think about the best way to approach this blog task. . .

Okay!! But this is STILL so exciting!  I can hardly contain myself!  Should we write about playing?  Or running up and down the hallway?  Or watching for strangers from the window and barking at them??? Or maybe going on a “W. A. L. K”–

Put a lid on it, kid. We’ve got to get to work here.  And just FYI, Mum doesn’t realize we know how to spell.

Oops, sorry! Okay, so how about discussing Frisbees, my favorite?  Or my ball–I LOVE MY BALL!  We could talk about throwing it and chasing it, and then throwing it and chasing it again!  And maybe throwing it and chasing it once more after that!! Oooh, that’s my favorite activity!  Or we could talk about–

SQUIRREL!!

* * * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * * *

Heh heh.  Now that she’s gone, let’s get to– 

Whew!  That squirrel must have been moving pretty fast if I couldn’t even SEE it!  Okay, here I am again!  Now, I know we’re supposed to say something on the blog, but I think I’ve forgotten what it was. . . something to do with eating. . . .

Don’t worry, Chaser, I’ve done this before.  Let’s just talk about this Rhubarb Swirl Ice Cream. 

Oooh, yeah, Rhubarb Swirl Ice Cream! One of my favorite things!! I LOVE Rhubarb Swirl Ice Cream!  It’s so delicious!  It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted! It’s better than sliced bread Dentabones!  It’s tops! Fabulous! Fantastic!!!!!!

. . . . Um, what’s rhubarb, again?

It’s people food.  But we’re allowed to taste it.  It’s not too sweet, which is good for us.  And it’s easy to make, which is good for Mum.  But all you need to know is that it contains protein, from the walnuts and (good) fat.

Oooh, Protein and Fat!  Two of my favorite things!!  I LOVE protein and fat!  They’re so delicious!  They’re the best things–

Take a chill pill, kid. Let’s just let Mum’s readers see the recipe.  Our job here is done.

Well, except for cleaning up the leftovers, right?  Ooh, leftovers!  I LOVE leftovers!  They’re so delicious. . . . . 

Rhubarb Swirl Ice Cream (suitable for ACD Phase II and beyond)

This is one vegan ice cream that won’t turn brick-hard as it freezes.  The trick is the combination of walnuts and vegetable glycerin* in the base, since neither of these ever firms up completely in the freezer.  This is also my first recipe using coconut sugar*, which worked like a charm.

Rhubarb Swirl:

2 Tbsp (30 ml) arrowroot powder or cornstarch

1/4 cup (60 ml) water, divided

2 cups (240 ml)  chopped rhubarb (about 2 stalks)

1/4 cup (60 ml) coconut sugar*

2 tsp (10 ml) pure vanilla extract

1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) ground ginger

20-25 drops stevia, to taste 

Ice cream:

1 cup (4 oz/110 g) raw walnuts

1 can (14 ounces or 400 ml) full-fat coconut milk, preferably organic (I use Thai Kitchen)  

1/4 cup (60 ml) vegetable glycerin or agave nectar

2 Tbsp (30 ml) coconut sugar*

2 medium peaches or pears, cored or pitted and cut in to chunks (about 9.5 oz or 265 g)

1 Tbsp (15 ml) freshly squeezed lemon juice

20 or more drops stevia, to taste

Pinch fine sea salt

1 Tbsp (15 ml) vanilla

* If you are not following an anti-candida diet and don’t have these sweeteners, you can use agave or maple syrup for the glycerin, and Sucanat or brown sugar for the coconut sugar.

For the Rhubarb Swirl, combine the arrowroot and 2 Tbsp. (30 ml) water in a small bowl and mix until smooth.  Set aside.  Place all ingredients except arrowroot in a small pot. Cook over medium heat until the mixture begins to bubble, stirring frequently.  Once the rhubarb is bubbling, lower heat to medium-low, add the arrowroot mixture and stir well. Cook another minute or two, until mixture thickens up and becomes a bit gooey.  Remove from heat and allow to cool completely.

For the ice cream base, place all ingredients in a blender and blend until perfectly smooth. Pour the mixture into an ice cream maker and churn according to directions. When the ice cream is just ready, add rhubarb swirl mixture and let mix for 10 seconds or so, just until it’s distributed in a swirl through the base.  Turn into a container and freeze until ready to serve.  Makes 6 servings.

If you don’t have an ice cream maker, you can prepare it this way: Prepare the rhubarb swirl as above, and place in a container. 

Line an 8 x 8 inch (20 cm) square pan with waxed paper or parchment paper (plastic wrap won’t do in this case).  Set aside.

Blend all ingredients for the ice cream base as above, and pour the base into the prepared pan.  Freeze until just solid, then turn onto a cutting board, peel away the paper, and using a sharp knife, cut into about 25 squares.  Store the squares in a plastic bag in the freezer until ready to use. 

To serve the ice cream, place 4 squares for each serving in a food processor and process until it comes together in a ball, then for about 10 seconds more to create a “soft serve” consistency.  Spoon into serving bowls and top with rhubarb mixture (or fold it into the base to create a swirl).  Eat immediately.

This recipe is my submission this week to Amy’s Slightly Indulgent Tuesdays event.  The ice cream actually tastes more than slightly indulgent–but without sugar or cream, it fits the bill perfectly anyway!

Side Note:  For those who are interested, I’ve just added the clip of my television appearance earlier this week on Roger’s daytime to the Press Page.

Two Years Ago: Lucky Comestible III: The Perfect Guacamole

You might also like: Banana Daiquiri Ice Dream

© 2010 Diet, Dessert and Dogs

[Just look at that peachy color! And it's not Photoshopped!]

Don’t you just hate it when your regular routine is disrupted? Well, maybe it’s just me.  As a Libra, I tend to be perhaps a little too attached to routine consistency boredom equilibrium in my life (Libra is represented by the scales, after all).  When the calm of a well-established pattern is disturbed, as it was last week, I’m thrown into a tizzy.

And just what horrific event occurred that turned my previously placid waters into choppy seas, you ask?

My treadmill broke.

Okay, maybe not so earth-shattering.  But I was accustomed to walking for 45 minutes every morning on my treadmill, while watching my soap opera (multi-tasking at its best). Now, I’m forced to head to the workout club each AM instead (howdy, octogenarian couple with the matching T-shirts!  How ya doin, Burly Guy who wears black dress socks?  Nice to see you again, trainer with the too-revealing tank top!).  Which means I haven’t watched my soap in over a week (I’m so far behind, in fact, that in my episodes Jack and Carly have only been married six times).  Which means I’ve had to switch to an elliptical trainer instead of a treadmill (my quadriceps are barely hanging on for 20 minutes at this point).  Which means I must wake up, wash my face, get fully dressed and drive to the club before I can even begin to work out.  

Which, ultimately, means less time in the morning to do everything else I used to do. Like wrestle with The Girls.  Like answer emails.  Like cook and eat breakfast.

Like so many people in the world of food and health blogs, I read Angela Liddon’s Oh She Glows.  I mean, who wouldn’t?  It’s fun to read, Angela is an inspiration (she just completed a triathlon!), and (big points with me these days) she prefers to post recipes that are, to paraphrase her own words, quick, healthy, delicious–and contain only a few ingredients. Well, if that doesn’t just make my temporally-challenged day a little bit brighter! 

Enter Angela’s seen-them-everywhere-on-the-blogosphere Banana Soft Serve Vegan Overnight Oats.  The recipe is a staple on Angela’s blog (with a multitude of variations, such as peanut butter, cacao nib, carob, rice crisps and so on) and has made cameo appearances pretty much everywhere else, too. 

And now it’s finally DDD’s turn to give these oats a try!  Okay, so maybe I’m a little late to the party.  But with this recipe, I was sort of like the dowdy bookworm who joins in with just a little sip of wine. . . and before you know it, she’s downed a half dozen glasses and is dancing on the tables.  I went a little loco for these oats. Like the proverbial ACD-er in a pastry shop, I wanted to eat them all, and try out every varation I could get my hands on.

[Seriously, does that look irresistible, or what?  Of course, you could serve this in a regular cereal bowl as well.  But then it wouldn't be as pretty.]

It’s no secret how much I love my baked steel-cut oats, and they will always hold a special place in my heart (and stomach). But these Banana Soft Serve Vegan Overnight Oats are perfect for a warm summer morning: light, refreshing, creamy and cold. . . in fact, it felt more like I was eating a dessert than a breakfast (always a good thing in my books).  Besides being ideal for the season (no cooking = no heating the oven = no sweating in the kitchen), the recipe also provides a substantial nutritional punch and will keep you feeling satiated for hours.  Even though I normally find myself sniffing around the kitchen mid-morning for something to snack on (“Excuse me, Mum, but isn’t that our domain?”) , after one bowl of these, I was pleasantly full well past my usual lunch time.

Why did it take me so long to try these out?  Blame it on the bananas. Since we ACD-ers aren’t permitted any “tropical” fruits (banana, mango, etc.), I had to come up with an alternative.  I tweeted Angela a while back to ask if she had any suggestions for what I might use instead, and I settled on frozen berries.  And so, my first version of BSSVOO made its debut:

Those were good, but I knew I could do better.  Supporting the cause of the banana-phobic everywhere, I racked my brains to create a delectable and creamy Soft Serve worthy of the Overnight Oats moniker!  One intriguing possibility was frozen pears (and while those would likely be delicious, we were all out–and I didn’t want to hold up the process of culinary creation). 

Eventually, I decided, “yes!”, I would dare to eat a (frozen) peach–and tried that mixed with a few strawberries for color.  The result was a visually stunning and tastebud-tickling parfait that provided one of the most enjoyable breakfasts I’ve had this year.

If you haven’t yet jumped on the overnight oats bandwagon, what are you waiting for?  Hop right on.  The recipe is super easy (ingredients stay in the fridge overnight; then layer–or not, your choice) and is a perfect way to consume seasonal fruits.  Of course, if you’re able to enjoy bananas, go ahead and try it that way first.  There’s always the rest of the summer for peaches. Or berries. Or pears. Or every single other fruit.  Makes me glad I finally shook up that dull routine.

On another note, I love watching changes as they occur in the blogging world (even if I prefer stability in my exercise routine). One of the features you’ve no doubt noticed on many blogs these days is a question, or list of questions posed to the readers at the end of the post.  I enjoy reading these, as they provide some insight into the blogger’s ideas and, even better, often generate a discussion among the commenters.

So here’s today’s question:  Would you like to see questions rounding out the posts on DDD?  Is this a feature you think would enhance the blog?  (Cheating, I know; asking a question about questions!). 

I always love reading your comments and would be thrilled with more interactive discussion on the blog.  I’d love to hear more from you and welcome ideas about what you’d like to read/see on DDD! So please, pipe up (and lurkers, here’s your chance!) and share your thoughts!  

Peach (or other) Soft Serve Vegan Overnight Oat Parfait (ACD Phase II and beyond)

adapted from Oh She Glows

This is an easy and delicious way to treat yourself in the morning.  When you wake up to a serving of these oats, you really will feel as if you’re eating something special.

For the Oats:

1/3 cup (35 g) old-fashioned whole rolled oats (not instant or quick cook)

2 Tbsp (30 ml) chia seeds

1 to 1-1/4 cups (240-300 ml) plain or vanilla soy, rice, or almond milk

5-10 drops plain liquid stevia, to your taste

1 tsp (5 ml) cinnamon

For the Soft Serve:

1 medium peach, washed, pit removed, cut into chunks, then frozen solid

2-3 fresh or frozen strawberries

2 tsp (10 ml) fresh lemon juice

1 tsp (5 ml) fresh lemon zest (optional)

1 Tbsp (15 ml) agave nectar OR 5-10 drops plain liquid stevia, to your taste

For the overnight oats, place all ingredients in a bowl and stir well.  Cover with plastic wrap and place in refrigerator overnight.  (Note: Angela mentions that these can be ready in as little as 1.5-2 hours if you start in the morning, or if you’re desperate for a snack).

For the soft serve, place everything except the agave in a food processor and process until the mixture becomes crumbly.  Sprinkle with agave and continue to process another 20-30 seconds until the mixture comes together in a ball and begins to soften.  Take care not to overprocess, or it will melt too much and liquefy.

To assemble, alternate layers of the overnight oats and the soft serve in a bowl or glass.  If you’re rushed (or lazy, like me), you can simply top the oats with the soft serve in a bowl and aim for a bit of each in every spoonful.

Optional toppings include cacao nibs, dried fruit, granola or puffed rice, or pretty much anything else you can think of that would complement the flavors.  Serve immediately. Makes one very substantial serving.  Recipe may be doubled.

With its ability to straddle the breakfast/dessert divide, this recipe is a perfect submission to Amy’s Slightly Indulgent Tuesdays event.  Check out her weekly list of yummy AND healthy recipes!

AND ALSO: Jacqueline of Tinned Tomatoes has just begun a new site, FoodBlogDiary, that lists all blog events for each month.  She’s already got more than a dozen events listed for June (including Kim and my l’il SOS Challenge).  Check it out so you can enter the events that appeal to you, or submit your own! 

Two Years Ago: Old Reliables: Salads You Can Count On

You might also like: Giant Baked Upside Down Apple Pancake

© 2010 Diet, Dessert and Dogs

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 Television next Monday, talking about healthy cakes, frostings and toppings, and sampling some of the goodies from the book! Yippee!]

© 2009 Diet, Dessert and Dogs

Last Year at this Time: Sweet Things Times Three (Sweet Potato and Ginger Salad)

Who could have ever guessed that our summer would FINALLY arrive on Labor Day Weekend?  The weather this past weekend was glorious: brilliant sunshine, sky entirely unsullied by even a speck of cloud, so blue even the dogs seemed able to perceive its piercing azure, colorblind or no.  The temperature’s been hovering at around 28C (that’s high 80s, my American compadres!), and–best of all–no humidity!  What a perfect way to usher out the summer as students prepare to get back to school tomorrow and parents prepare to shout obscenities at all the extra drivers on the newly traffic-clogged roadways. 

It does seem strange to be bidding summer adieu when it feels as if we never actually had a real summer this year to begin with.  Let’s see: before this weekend, I can recall a total of three sunny days.  And it’s official:  this summer, we surpassed every known record for rainfall in Ontario between June 1 and August 31st. 

And so, to celebrate the late arrival of warmth and to send off the season that never was, I thought I’d present this heavenly soup.  It’s one I mentioned waaaaay back when I ran the last Lucky Comestible series on avocados.  As the warm weather dissipates and the stealthy chill of autumn returns with its crisp sheets in the evenings and dewy sprays of frost on car windows each morning, this is a soup you can make to remind you that, before you know it–a mere 293 days from now–the warm weather will finally return.  That is, if there’s actually a summer next year.

The soup is creamy, rich, and very refreshing after an afternoon in the sun.  It’s also great as a quick dinner if you’ve been taking advantage of one of the rare balmy afternoons left in which you can go outside in just a T-shirt and shorts. 

So long, Oh Blazing Sol of the summer. So long, lush, humective grasses and tomato blossoms, amazonian mint, purple clover and sundry weeds in a multicolored tangle like some crazy knitting basket in my vegetable garden. So long, little Chaser slurping at the hose.  So long, G & Ts on the patio, tan lines on my shoulders, shoes slipped on casually with no socks. So long, coveted, much cherished, far too short and ever appreciated summer weather.

Summer, we hardly knew ya.  Sniff.  Boo hoo.  But now, there’s soup. . .

Oh, and for those of you returning to school tomorrow (or those who’ve just returned this past week)–welcome back!

The Girls love the glorious sunshine and heat, but spending too much time frolicking outside can take its toll. . . .

["Oh, Mum, I just adore summer--especially getting sprayed by the garden hose!"]

["Really, Chaser,  how puerile. Personally, I prefer to keep my distance from the hose and hang here by Dad's foot."]

["Ooooh. . . maybe I have overdone it, just a bit. . .just need to rest here a minute under the patio furniture. . . "]

["It IS beginning to feel rather hot out here about now, I  must admit."]

["Ah, thanks for letting me in, Mum. It's much better here in the house, on these cool ceramic tiles. . . "]

["Zip it, Chaser, I'm trying to sleep. "]