From the kitchen of a captious vegetarian

When I was growing up my mom would often make a vegan version of vichyssoise. It was a simple soup made with unpeeled potatoes from her garden, leeks and onions, olive oil, salt and pepper. I always enjoyed it, even without the typical additions of butter, cream, and chicken broth. I ate vichyssoise both cold and warm, and only found out last weekend that the name vichyssoise actually refers only to the cold soup. Warm potato leek soup apparently is given a different name.

After seeing nice-looking leeks in the Saarbruecken market last week, I thought it would be nice to make a spring vichyssoise as one course in our Saturday night dinner party. Although the leeks looked good, all the potatoes in the market appeared to be from last fall; they were all shriveled and starting to sprout. My friends Spoons and Kathy suggested I use celeriac instead, since the celeriac looked very fresh. I was hesistant, as I thought that celery root would be a very strong flavor to replace the normally quite mild, earthy potatoes. But they insisted that celeriac can be used anywhere you use potatoes. (I have no idea where the celeriac or the leeks were from, but assumed they weren’t local to Germany in early May)

I was cooking for 12, and chopped up such a large amount of leeks and onions that they ended up steaming rather than sauteeing. It didn’t help that I used a tall narrow soup pot rather than a wide shallow pan. I didn’t have any vegetable broth so used veggie bouillon cubes, and we didn’t have butter but did add cream. Surprisingly, I couldn’t really taste the celery root. I definitely missed the earthy potato flavor, and the texture of the potato skins, but I don’t think I would have known there was celery root in it if I hadn’t seen it go in. I think adding the bouillon was a mistake, however. The flavor of vichyssoise is so delicate that the bouillon I used muddied it up and added too much of a dark base note. I prefer to get the base note from the potatoes. I also prefer vichyssoise without cream, I think, more like my mom used to make it. Either the cream or bouillon cubes or both gave a subtle but unpleasant greasy taste to the soup. I did really enjoy the fresh chives which Kathy used as a garnish. If we had had enough I think I would have added 2 Tbs. of chives to my one bowl of soup!

A word about salt: I thought that with the boullion cubes and a little added salt that the soup was seasoned just fine, but everyone else disagreed. Once some cream was added, however, the soup tasted much less salty and I let my guests add more salt. Cook’s Illustrated also notes that cold food needs more seasoning than hot food, since chilling dulls flavors.

The cookbook Second Helpings from Union Square has a recipe for lemongrass vichysoisse that I adored the first time I’ve made it. I’ve tried to recreate the dish multiple times since that first revelation, always taking various short cuts, and never quite getting the same bright lemongrass flavor, at least not without lots of stringy lemongrass bits. It might be that the only way to get the proper results is to go through the tedious steps (including the extremely fine chopping and sieving steps) described in the original recipe. I tried adding some commercially jarred lemongrass paste to the celeriac vichyssoise described above, and although I could taste the lemongrass, it was not the bright, fresh, lemon flavor I was looking for. I’ve thought about trying to use lemon but I’m afraid the juice is too acidic and the zest too metallic tasting.

After using celeriac and lemongrass in “vichyssoise” I looked around on the web for other variations and found recipes that use fennel, watercress, zucchini and saffron, just to name a few. Apparently this recipe is amenable to creativity.

I’m quite terrible at making stir-fries: I always go overboard and try to include too many different vegetables and flavors, and I end up with a mushy, overcooked, bland mess.  I went searching for some vegetables for dinner at the local grocery store in Saarbruecken last week, and the only thing that looked remotely fresh was the napa cabbage.  So I bought the cabbage and some ginger and scallions and whole wheat pasta and figured I’d make a quick stir-fry for dinner.  I wanted tofu as well but couldn’t find any, so bought eggs instead.

I started boiling water for about 1/2 pound of whole wheat pasta.

Meanwhile, I chopped up garlic, ginger, scallions, and the napa cabbage. I worked with what I had in the house and made a simple stir-fry sauce with some water, soy sauce, and honey.

After the pasta went into the boiling water, I started the stir-fry. I fried up two eggs in a stainless steel skillet with a little olive oil, salt, and pepper, then cut the fried egg into strips with a pair of kitchen shears, and set the egg aside. In the same pan I sauteed some garlic and ginger with a little olive oil and chili flakes, then added the chopped napa cabbage.  When the white, crunchy part of the cabbage just started to get soft, I removed from the heat and tossed in the cooked pasta, the scallions, the egg strips, and the sauce.

The stir-fry definitely turned out better than previous attempts.  The napa stayed crunchy, the ginger flavor was strong but not overpowering, the egg provided a savory element, and the scallions and pepper flakes provided just a hint of heat.

I made a raw spinach pasta sauce for dinner the other night, but overestimated the amount of spinach I’d need.  I used the extra blended up spinach to make this thai-inspired soup.  I didn’t measure any of the ingredients so this is more of an idea than a recipe per se

• fresh spinach, cleaned, large stems removed, blended raw with water til its smooth
• coconut milk
• ginger (I put mine through a garlic press)
• garlic, pressed
• finely minced lemongrass (I used a store-bought almost-paste, that left no stringy bits in the soup)
• soy sauce
• ground coriander
• ground cumin
• salt
• something spicy, perhaps a fresh green chili with the seeds

The soup came out rich, but very tasty.  I used a little of the coconut milk to saute the ginger and garlic, then I added more lemongrass and a few spoonfuls of spinach, with the lemongrass, soy sauce, and dry spices.  When all the flavors were developed I added the fresh spinach and brought it carefully up to temperature.  If it gets too hot or cooks too long you’ll lose that bright green color.  I left mine sitting on the stove for a while and it turned a bit more brownish rather than the original bright green, but was still tasty.  The ginger and lemongrass and coconut milk were the strongest flavors.  If I had kaffir lime leaves, I would have added a few of those as well.

My friend Katrina picked this recipe for chickpea burgers for our first food club challenge. It’s a recipe from Veganomicon that’s been all the range on the vegan blogosphere.  Below I’ve posted my comments, as well as those of the other members of our newly started cooking club.

My comments:

I made these chickpea burgers when visiting Derek in Germany.  As soon as I took my first bite I thought “these are seitan burgers, not really veggie burgers.” They had the distinctive chewy, stringy texture of undercooked seitan. I didn’t find it altogether unpleasant, but neither did it excite me. I thought the patties had little flavor: I couldn’t taste the sage or other dried herbs at all. I cooked the first four with 1 Tbs. of oil in a large skillet, and Derek and I thought that the crispiest patties were the best, so the second batch of 4 I cooked with 2 Tbs. of oil. They turned out oilier, but not any better, I thought. I could see how someone who really likes greasy food would like these patties cooked with a lot of oil though. I only used 3/4 of the soy sauce as I was worried they’d be too salty. With 3/4 they were fine.

I like that the recipe is novel: I’ve never seen a veggie burger recipe that calls for gluten flour before. However, I would have preferred more chickpea flavor and less seitan texture, so if I make these again, I think I will try replacing half of the gluten flour with besan (chickpea flour). I may also try adding different seasonings to make them Indian tasting, or perhaps Mexican spices.

I don’t think these would work very well on a hamburger bun with all the fixings, because they are a bit dry and quite starchy, and bland. I think they would be better served as Heidi Swanson suggests serving veggie burgers: use the burger as the bun, slice each one in half and fill it with tomato and lettuce and whatever other toppings you like to add to your veggie burgers. Or just serve them as I did: with a creamy, spicy sauce.

My rating: B-

Derek’s response:

The first time I made them Derek commented that they tasted like cheap veggie burgers, kind of like boca burgers. He said the texture was soft and cardboardy. When I objected that cardboard is the opposite of soft, he said “like wet cardboard.” Then he asked for a second one, and he ate half of one of mine as well. He claims that he ate so many of them because they were a good carrier for the sauce I made, which was yogurt mixed with amarillo pepper sauce and lemon juice. “Aaaah, lemon juice,” he says. I had doubled the recipe and stored half of the dough in the fridge for two days. When I made the second batch, Derek said they had gotten chewier and stretchy, but the flavor was still fairly bland. He gives the recipe a C+.

Katrina’s comments, as transcribed by me (Katrina broke her thumb so I offered my typing services. This is only approximate however–Katrina was much more eloquent in real life.)

I made the mistake of grinding the chickpeas too finely–I wished there were bigger pieces of chickpeas. I would almost consider using more chickpeas and grinding some up and leaving some in chunks. I also liked Rose’s idea of using some chickpea flour. I thought they had an interesting texture and the idea was really nice, to have a bean burger that holds together and isn’t just beans and rice. But the taste wasn’t that exciting. I felt like they needed some more seasoning of some sort. You could probably go any way with it, Indian spices, Mexican spices–you just have to do something. I think it would be good with parsley or cilantro or something. I’ve seen online you could use it sort of like a parmigiana topped with a tomato sauce, and it would probably work pretty well with that as it has kind of a bready texture. You could probably even include some vegetables in it if you wanted. I don’t know if it was the high gluten content or what, but they just felt like a rock in my stomach. It was just a really dense food, which was kind of weird. I would certainly make something along these lines again, something with beans and gluten and seasoning made into some kind of pan-fried burgers, but I wouldn’t follow the recipe. I’d like to try it with a different type of bean as well.

Katrina said she used all the soy sauce but low sodium, and the salt level was fine.

Susan’s comments:

I doubled the recipe and made them into round burger shapes instead of cutlets which made 9 instead of 6. It is necessary to cook them on medium or they will burn. I used 1 tsp of oil per 3 to fry them in.

I thought the texture was good and they held together very well. There was too much sage taste for me and I think I would use something else next time.

Hanaleah said they were okay when she took a bite, but then came back and finished the whole piece.
I made them for a potluck. They all got eaten. This is a good thing, no? They liked the texture but not much taste. They needed a bun, tomatos, mayo, onions, etc everyone said. And when I ate mine 3 hours after I made them, you couldn’t tell that they had sage. It disappearred? At our potluck there was a red pepper salsa that was delicious and when eaten with the burgers helped immensel

Kathy’s comments

Chickpea Success!!!

A few of us here in Geneva attempted the Chickpea Patty recipe with a bunch of modifications, and it was a definite success. I’ve cc’d the co-creators/tasters and my chickpea consultant, spoons.

First: what will we do with the cutlets? I was talking to Spoons about this on the phone, and he was confused about why we were making chickpea patties in the first place — why not just make chickpeas, themselves, with good seasonings? Then we decided that one of the only reasons we could think of to make chickpea patties instead of chickpeas was that chickpeas would probably fall through a barbecue grill. So, I decided to go towards real chickpea burgers — the kind of thing that you could bring to a BBQ and toss on the grill.

So, how did we change the original recipe?

We made a double batch, which turned into 8 burgers.

We replaced half of the gluten with chickpea flour, and made sure to knead it lightly. We kneaded about one minute after it came together, not too vigorously. Toyoko, who had made this same recipe in Geneva before, blamed her patties’ too-dense texture on gluten + too much kneading.

We left half the chickpeas whole, or barely crushed, to add some more chunks. I wouldn’t do it that way again, since the burgers sometimes had fault-lines develop near the chickpeas, and I would be afraid the patties might break up. I might chop the unground half of the chickpeas about as finely as we chopped the garlic (not *that* finely).

We left out:
# 1/2 teaspoon lemon zest
# 1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
# 1/4 teaspoon dried rubbed sage

but put in a bunch of paprika and some soy sauce, and a drop of lemon oil (which like zest, but what I use when I forgot to buy a lemon). For vegetable broth, we used Veggie “Better than Bouillon” which has a very savory flavor.

Then, we cooked the burgers in a really hot cast iron skillet with some oil.

You can see the result!
http://www.flickr.com/photos/nowpicnic/2374225723/

There is a patty on the left, so you can see how it looks, and then another inside the bun. We topped the burgers with carmelized onions, and usual burger stuff like lettuce, tomato, mayo, mustard, ketchup. Next time I might put the carmelized onions INSIDE the burgers.

The other things on the plate are chickpea fries (delicious!) and a yogurt-cucumber salad that went really well with the chickpeas. We had dates, pitted with almond butter inside, for dessert, and those were excellent too.

With these modifcations, the taste and texture of the chickpea burger were both great. The taste was mostly hummus-like (chickpeas and garlic and paprika!) and the texture wasn’t at all boca-burger or seitan-ish. It held together pretty well.

I had some leftovers the next day, warmed up in a pan with some veggies and sausage, and it was OK but certainly more bread-like as it was reheated with steamy veggies. I think the hot searing of a skillet/broiler/grill helps the patties seem more protein-y and less bread-y.

So, your suggestions worked out well! I would definitely make this again, especially as a summer-time BBQ food.

I can’t recall if I’ve blogged about aji amarillo sauce before, but it’s worth a second mention in any case. This Peruvian sauce is simply a puree made from yellow aji peppers. It’s bright yellow, somewhat spicy, a little salty, and very flavorful. Actually, I’d describe it more as “piquant” than seriously spicy. The first time I had it was at La Feria in Pittsburgh. Although I enjoyed adding it to their various grain and cheese casseroles, and using it in place of butter as a spread for french bread, I was never really sure what to do with it at home. Then a few months ago Derek and I went to Madre, a tiny nouveau latin restaurant on the east side of Montreal. We weren’t all that excited about the experience (see our review), but there was one memorable dish with peruvian pepper sauce that Derek loved, and has been on my mind ever since: a duck “ceviche” with seared duck marinated in yellow pepper sauce, with onions, parsnip puree, and roasted corn kernels.

I finally found the yellow pepper sauce at the South American store on St. Laurent (and then later at the Mexican store behind Jean Talon market). The Mexican store also had the roasted salted corn kernels. Visiting Derek in Germany this week, I bought adorable French fingerling potatoes, fresh garlic, and a medium bag of spinach. I sliced five of the fingerling potatoes, and sauteed them in olive oil with a half of head of fresh garlic and a small red onion sliced into rings. Once the potatoes were almost soft I added about a 1/2 cup of yellow pepper sauce, and the spinach (leaves torn). After the spinach was wilted I sprinkled on some fresh thyme and a dusting of roasted corn kernels. I had meant to add mushrooms and white wine as well, in mimicry of the white wine and garlic saute from Kaya but forgot both. Even so, everyone really enjoyed the dish, even me! I couldn’t taste the thyme, and next time might try a more south american herb like cilantro. Also, I’d like to try using parsnips instead of potatoes. Either way, I’ll definitely be trying this type of recipe again, as well as looking for more opportunities to use this delicious yellow pepper sauce, even if I have to smuggle it into Germany from Montreal or the States.

Other ways I’ve eaten this sauce lately:

• plain, as a dipping sauce for roasted brussels sprouts
• mixed with yogurt and lemon juice as a dipping sauce for chickpea patties
• as a flavorful addition to a sandwich, in place of mustard

If you have any other suggestions, please post a comment!

I’ve seen a large number of different brands of this pepper sauce: Goya, Dona Isabel, La Nuestra, various local Canadian brands.  If you can’t find it in the ethnic food section of a large grocery store, try to hunt down a South American store, or better yet a Peruvian or Bolivian store.  If you still can’t find the jarred aji amarillo pepper puree, here are instructions on how to make it yourself.

I was never a huge fan of baklava, until I tried the baklava at Santorini in Chicago. I think I liked their baklava so much because they use a lot of high quality cinnamon, and I love cinnamon. Now, anyone who follow my blog knows that I am a lazy cook, too lazy to make real baklava. So when a baklava craving hit me yesterday, I whipped this very simple concoction up instead:

• one apple, sliced
• a big spoonful of nut butter (I used a mixture of almond, cashew, peanut, and a fourth nut which I can’t recall, perhaps walnut?)
• a small spoonful of not-too-strong-tasting honey
• lots and lots of cinnamon

Mix all the ingredients except for the apple together in a small bowl. Stand the apple slices up so that they surround the nut butter mixture, and go all the way around the bowl. No utensils needed: this is finger food.Derek was skeptical when I offered him a bite, as he claims to not care for apples, but he clearly liked my cinnamon concoction as we had a little fight about who would get the last bite.

I haven’t been posting many recipes lately, because I haven’t been cooking all that much lately, and what I have been cooking is old recipes. For example, last night for dinner I made a bit pot of chili and a side of sesame broccoli. It was yummy, but not novel. That’s the problem with this blog getting so big: most of what I make is likely to already be posted on the blog. As part of a new cooking club I joined, however, I’ll be trying a new recipe for chickpea cutlets from Veganomicon later in the week.

I am not an empanada connoisseur. Empanadas are more popular in South American than Mexico, so they’re not that common in Austin. Plus, traditional empanadas are rarely vegetarian. Before I came to Montreal the only time I can remember getting empanadas was in Pittsburgh, at the Peruvian restaurant La Feria. We tried their empanadas once or twice, but they never seemed worth the money or calories (although we did really like the sweet onion relish with which they were served). In Montreal, however, empanadas are more common. There is a small Chilean empanada place called Chilenita, that’s just a few blocks off my walk to work, and I have picked up an empanada for lunch quite a few times. Surprisingly, Chilenita offers five different vegetarian empanadas. When I go on weekdays they usually just have two of the five available, but I dropped by last weekend and they had all five, so I finally got to try them all.

My favorite is La Napolitana, which has green olives and artichokes, tomatoes, goat cheese and mozzarella. It’s a bit salty but very tasty and satisfying. The spinach and cheese empanada is okay, but a bit boring. The végé-champignon empanada includes mushrooms, zucchini, carrots, and corn. I thought it sounded dull, but I quite enjoyed it, especially the corn which was surprisngly flavorful. The végé-tofu version is similar, but the tofu doesn’t really add anything flavor or texture-wise; it’s pretty much just soft unseasoned tofu smushed up with the veggies. The last one is the Mediterranéenne empanada, which I didn’t care for because it has eggplant, my végé-nemesis. All the empanadas come with an excellent spicy red sauce. It’s not quite salsa, or hot sauce, but something in between. Whatever it is, it complements the empanadas perfectly, especially the edges which are somewhat dry. I always ask for extra sauce.

When Derek was in town he tried the La Napolitana empanada, but didn’t care for it. He referred to it as a “starch bomb,” I believe. Certainly, empanadas are carb-heavy, with all that dough, and the dough isn’t all that tasty by itself, but at least the it doesn’t taste extremely rich (although for all I know the dough might be made with tons of butter). Even so, if I eat one empanada for lunch I feel satisfied and alert afterwards, so they pass my after-lunch-coma test.

The Montreal blog Midnight Poutine has a quite lovely and very accurate set of photos documenting both the empanadas themselves and the very tiny but cute restaurant.

La Chilenita’s menu also includes burritos and other latin cuisine, but so far I’ve just stuck with the empanadas, as I’m always in a rush and the empanadas are grab and go.

I was trying to decide what to make for dinner last night, and my friend Katrina suggested a casserole. I said I never really make casseroles, and asked for ideas. She rattled off a bunch of recipe ideas from The Passionate Vegetarian, including a recipe for a cabbage, apple, sauerkraut, noodle casserole, seasoned with applesauce and paprika. It reminded me of a dish my college roommate’s Hungarian grandma used to make for us all the time: “cabbage noodles,” which were spiral noodles and sauteed cabbage and lots of oil and salt. They were simple, greasy, and delicious. The casserole also sounded reminiscent of a traditional noodle kugel.

I used to love my grandma’s noodle kugel when I was a kid. Many noodle kugels are sweet, with cinnamon and sugar and raisins, but my grandma’s recipe stood squarely in the savory camp. Her recipe called for 3 cups egg noodles, 1 cup full fat sour cream, 3 eggs, 3 ounces cream cheese, 1/2 cup cream, 2 Tbs. butter and 1/2 pound full fat cottage cheese, and just a Tablespoon of sugar and touch of salt. All that dairy fat made it rich and delicious, and the sour cream made is just a tad sour, which I loved. Sadly, her recipe, and most traditional noodle kugels, have few redeeming features from a nutritional standpoint. Not only would her recipe appall the the very-low-fat Dean Ornish types, and the no-carb Atkins types, but it would also be a no-no to the more modern low-animal-fat-and-white carbs (but lots of veggies) types. I think the only one who might approve is Michael Pollan, as most of the ingredients do seem like “food” (although I haven’t read his most recent book yet so I’m not positive that these ingredients would qualify). I’ve been wanting to experiment with Isa’s technique of using pureed silken tofu in place of eggs in baked dishes, and decided this was the perfect opportunity: I would try to create a savory vegan cabbage noodle kugel using tofu in places of the dairy and eggs.

• 11 ounces of whole wheat fusilli
• 3 Tbs. olive oil
• 1 pound red onions (about 2 medium or one very large)
• 1.5 pounds shredded savoy cabbage (about 10 cups)
• salt (maybe 1 tsp? I forgot to measure)
• 2 twelve ounce packages of dry-packed silken tofu (or 1.5 packages water-packed soft tofu)
• 1/4 tsp. cayenne
• 1 tsp. cinnamon
• 1/2 Tbs. paprika

1. Bring a large pot of water to a boil for the pasta. Meanwhile, slice the onions (I did both the onions and cabbage using the slicing blade on my food processor, but I had to do the cabbage in two batches as it wouldn’t all fit at once.)
2. Heat 2 Tbs. of oil in a large 12-inch skillet or large dutch oven over medium-high heat. When the oil is hot, add the onions and saute until softened. While the onions are cooking shred your cabbage, and add it in to the skillet in batches, along with a 1/2 tsp. of salt. You want to cook the cabbage and onions until they start to carmelize. Use a little water from the pasta pot if the veggies start to burn or stick.
3. Preheat the oven to 375. When the water comes to a boil, salt it and add the pasta. Cook until just al dente (remember that the noodles will cook more in the oven). Drain the pasta and add back to the large pot it was cooked in.
4. While the cabbage and pasta cook, blend your tofu in a food processor, with the last Tbs. of oil, the cayenne, cinnamon, and paprika, and another 1/2 tsp. of salt.
5. Add the cabbage and onions and the tofu puree with the noodles. Mix to combine. Pour the mixture into a 9×13 casserole pan, and bake for 40 minutes.

My Notes:

The kugel came out all right, but not great. It holds together pretty well, looks like noodle kugel, and the taste isn’t bad, but it’s a bit stinky from the cabbage. I was hoping that by carmelizing the cabbage and onions I’d avoid any sulfur odors, and bring out their sweet sides. It didn’t quite work. I think that a sweet version might be a better choice. The cabbage and onions already make it a little sweet, and the little bit of cinnamon I added reinforces the sweetness, but it’s not quite enough. Next time I would add the traditional raisins, use slightly less cabbage perhaps, and add some sweetener (and maybe copy Dragonwagon and add a bit of apples or applesauce as well). I added the paprika to give the pureed tofu more flavor, and to go with my Hungarian theme, but I suspect it just ended up muddying the flavors more than enhancing them. Next time I would just use more sweet spices like cinnamon.

The tofu didn’t work as well as I would like. In Isa’s potato omelette recipe the soy flavor is not detectable, and the tofu gets all puffy and egglike. That didn’t happen here, I’m not sure why. In the baked kugel the tofu has the texture and taste of raw blended tofu. Perhaps the tofu needs more room to expand, and my casserole was packed too tightly? I do think that the tofu was useful in helping the casserole hold together, and giving it a slight creaminess. However, next time I would try cutting back on the amount of tofu a bit, maybe try just 16 ounces, which would help reduce the soy flavor. Also, the kugel is not quite rich enough for my taste, so I would add another tablespoon of olive oil and possibly some nuts as well.

If you’re very efficient the prep work will take about 30 minutes, otherwise more like 45 minutes. There’s quite a bit of clean-up as well, as you’ll have a large pot, large skillet, strainer and food processor to wash. I recommend grating some extra cabbage in the food processor, as long as you’re dirtying it, and using it for another dish, perhaps cole slaw. (And that way you’ll get both the benefits of cooked and raw cabbage!)

Rating: B-

The Spanish restaurant Sala Rosa has been recommended on the Chowhound Montreal website, for its extensive choice of vegetarian tapas. I finally got a chance to try it last week, and indeed the menu has an unusually large number of vegetarian options for a Spanish restaurant. I went for Sunday dinner with 2 friends and we ordered 4 dishes: the goat cheese with honey and carmelized onions, the fried potatoes with rosemary, the rapini with garlic, and the asparagus tortilla. I was also interested in the carrot salad and the spinach croquettes, but we didn’t want to end up with too much food. The four dishes we did order ended up being just the right amount of food for four people. We probably could have gotten away with just three if we were going to have dessert.

Overall, although the atmosphere was pleasant enough the service was extremely slow (albeit friendly), and none of the food excited me. The goat cheese was quite a large portion, and tasted fine, but I was disappointed in the bread.  The honey was standard and I felt like the ratio of cheese to honey was off–it certainly wasn’t as good as the toast and goat cheese and honey appetizers I’ve had in Paris. My friends, however, seemed to really like it, enthusing about the smoothness of the cheese.

The rapini was not bitter at all, but neither was it garlicky enough, and it was a bit under-salted, and rather small for the price (each dish was $8-$10). The potatoes were tasty when slathered with enough mayonnaise and rosemary, but I thought they were way too dry and fluffy–they tasted like the home fries I used to get at the school cafeteria as a kid.

I’ve never had a spanish tortilla before, and so wasn’t sure what to expect. When the tortilla finally came, I thought it looked quite beautiful. The shape was sort of like a sunken cake, and the surface was uniformly browned. Unfortunately, however, given its good looks, it tasted quite bland. It came with some diced tomatoes that didn’t seem to help. Now, perhaps all spanish tortillas are bland, but it still seemed strange that we couldn’t taste any asparagus (although we could see bits of asparagus).

Overall it was a pleasant evening, but I wouldn’t recommend any of the dishes or order them again, although with the help of mayonnaise everything was tasty enough that it got eaten (except the remnants of the tortilla).

I might come back on Flamenco night, but I wouldn’t recommend the place for its food (a least for vegetarians that don’t eat fish). Instead, other nearby options include a Greek Restaurant I’ve heard good things about on Parc, and Aux Vivres, a vegetarian restaurant just down the street that I haven’t had a chance to try yet. Also, Sala Rosa is just a few blocks away from Fairmount Bagels, my favorite Montreal bagel place.  Finally, don’t confuse Sala Rosa with Lola Rosa, which is a vegetarian restaurant in the McGill Ghetto.

I’d not heard good things about this Ethiopian restaurant but it’s right around the corner from me and it was raining and cold and I love Ethiopian so I figured I’d give it a shot. The vegetarian selection was a bit shorter than I’m used to, but sufficient.

I ordered the Vegetarian combination plate (spicy) and the Ethiopian tea. My tea came first. It wasn’t hot enough, and the cardamom/ginger flavor was weak. The combination plate was quite large, plenty for two people even. It came with yellow lentils, red lentils, a cabbage/potato dish, spinach, and a small amount of vegetable salad and two bites of a lentil salad. The injera was lukewarm–I know that is traditional in Ethiopia but I prefer it served hot. It was a light brown color, as if it had some teff in it, but was pretty much tasteless, and unusually sticky. The spinach had no detectable spice of any sort, but plenty of oil. It wasn’t unpleasant if you mixed it with something less oily. The potato and cabbage was even more tasteless than usual. The red lentils, which are usually my favorite, were a surprisingly bright shade of red, rather than their usual pinkish/orangish red. They had an okay (if inauthentic) flavor, but were extremely salty. I sort of suspect that in an effort to make them spicier than normal they added more of their seasoning mix, which has salt already added, and ended up with something over spiced and over salted. They yellow lentils, on the other hand, were the one dish I thought was better than average. They were very well seasoned and not too salty. The salad was fine but I wished there was more of it. The cold lentil salad was also nice, at least the 2 bites of it.

I’ve eaten in a lot of Ethiopian restaurants since I first fell in love with Ethiopian food in Seattle. Since then I’ve tried Ethiopian in Boston, Pittsburgh, Chicago, and New York. None were anything special, but the food at The Blue Nile is probably the worst of the bunch. And it’s more expensive than the others to boot!

The ambience, however, was quite lovely. There were palm? fronds on the ceiling shaped into what I assume are meant to be Ethiopian-styled roofs, which gave one the feeling of eating in a hut. There is a waterfall, and african statues, fake plants, and soft but not-too-dark lighting. There are two booths near the waterfall with their own overhead lights, which are out of the way of the front door (i.e. warmer) and very cozy and private looking. The only downsides to the atmosphere were the strange choice of music (not at all traditional Ethiopian), the regular telephone rings, and the occasional loud grinding noises of what I assume was an espresso maker.

The service was quite inattentive. It took me a long time to get the waiter’s attention, to place my order, to get the check, to get change, etc. Then when they finally brought me my change, they brought me two five dollar bills. I guess they wanted me to tip them five bucks? For terrible service on a bill under twenty dollars? It irked me.

Nonetheless, despite all my complaints, I suspect I’ll be back, at least one more time. The only Ethiopian restaurant in Montreal which I’ve heard good things about just closed, and it’s just too convenient to stay away. I’ll probably try coming with a friend and rather than ordering the sampler just ordering the yellow lentils and a salad. I’m guessing those two dishes will be plenty for two people, and only come to about CAD$9 a person. I’ll come when I want a nice leisurely meal, and maybe when it’s too cold or rainy to venture out further from home.

I was reading the NYC Chowhound reviews and saw Blossom recommended a number of times. It was described as a vegan restaurant similar to Candle Cafe, but perhaps slightly better overall.

I went with a large group last fall and we tried a number of dishes. We didn’t love everything, but overall the quality was excellent. There were few particularly creative or odd combinations, but almost all the dishes were solid and the flavors were well balanced. The prices are high compared to many other vegetarian restaurants (the entrees range from $17-$21), but the portions were quite large.

• Green salad: this salad came with grilled pear that was tasty, and candied walnuts, but the real standout was the tofu cubes, which were slightly dehydrated (so quite toothsome) and infused with a wonderful miso flavor. The dressing was indistinguishable but quite nice, although the salad was a bit overdressed in my opinion–veering a little too close to greasy.
• Mango and avocado salad: this salad was more like a chopped salad. There wasn’t a huge amount of mango or avocado, and neither were bursting with flavor, but the salad was quite tasty. The dressing was light and tasty, and the fennel slices added a pleasant crunch and a bit more bite to the salad.
• Black eyed pea and potato cake. This was a ginormous deep fried patty, but it was so large that only the very surface was crispy, and the rest was more of a creamy, soft texture. I loved the flavors–I’m not sure what was in it, but it tasted almost Indian, with a complex mix of different seasonings that I couldn’t quite place, but worked wonderfully together. The cake was drizzled with a vegan chipotle aioli, that tasted to me exactly like mayo-based aioli (how do they do it?), and went quite well with the other flavors.
• Spinach mushroom and pine nut ravioli with cashew cream. I found the “cream” sauce to be disappointing. It was nicely infused with sage, but the texture was a bit floury I thought, and the flavor odd. Plus I couldn’t taste the ravioli fillings. However, one of our party said that the ravioli was his favorite dish of the evening.
• Oyster mushroom tempura and seitan water chestnut potstickers. The tempura was definitely deep fried, and I’m not sure I tasted the mushrooms (although others said they did), but in any case it was delicious. Everyone really liked it. I thought the potstickers were pleasant, but nothing special, but others liked them more than I did.
• Seitan scallopini. The seitan came in large slices, pan seared, and topped with a caper white wine sauce. I thought the texture of the seitan was perfectly tender and toothsome at the same time, and the sauce was delicious. Everyone loved the seitan. The dish also came with chard (which was nice), and very strongly flavored basil mashed potatoes, that were a hit with everyone but me (but I’m not a mashed potato fan).
• Stuffed portobellos. This dish was two huge mushroom caps stacked and stuffed to the gills with a tofu walnut mixture, and topped with a tahini cashew sauce. Derek adored this dish, and others enjoyed it as well, but I found it too strongly flavored. I’m not sure exactly what the strong flavor was that disturbed me–maybe a excess of red wine or balsamic vinegar?
• Feijoada with smoky tempeh. This dish was the loser of the night. The tempeh was pretty tasteless, the sweet potatoes were tasty but sometimes undercooked, and the black beans were very plain. Overall we found this dish underseasoned and boring.
• Savory seitan. This dish was similar to the scallopini, except the seitan was in a different sauce. I have no idea what was in the sauce but it was light and refreshing and extremely tasty without being terribly greasy. The seitan also came with potatoes, green beans, and roasted tomatoes, all of which were fine but a bit boring.
• Vegan cheesecake. Derek loved the dessert, saying it was the best vegan dessert ever, or at the very least the best vegan cheesecake he’d ever had. It certainly came closer to cheesecake than others I’ve tried, evading the typical soy aftertaste. I asked how they made it and they said tofu and soy cream cheese, so I’m guessing the recipe is similar to the one I have on my blog for vegan key lime pie that uses tofutti cream cheese. I think they also used a very high quality vanilla, which also helps mask the soy flavor.

The service was attentive but not irritating. The ambience was perfectly pleasant, although nothing to rave about. Overall we enjoyed the experience, had lots of tasty food, and will definitely be back.

The flavors in this recipe from Madhur Jaffrey’s World of the East cookbook are simple, but very tasty. Unlike most of the recipes in this cookbook, this one does not say from which part of the world it originates, and I can’t really place the flavors into any one cultural bucket. Millet is eaten in many parts of the world, so knowing its geographical distribution doesn’t really help me place it either. Millet is a fast growing grain that requires little fertilizer and grows well even with limited rainfall, so its primarily eaten in arid parts of the world. Millet is an ancient staple in Northern China and Korea (rather than rice which is the staple in wet Southern China). In Western India millet is used to make flat bread, and it is also eaten in many parts of Africa.

• 1.5 cups hulled millet
• 3 Tbs. unsalted butter or oil
• 1 carrot, peeled and julienned in 1.5-inch strips
• 1 medium-sized onion peeled, cut in half lengthwise, and sliced into fine half rings
• a 2-inch piece of cinnamon
• 5 whole cloves
• 2 Tbs. raisins
• 3/4 tsp. salt

1. Heat a 7-inch cast-iron skillet over a medium flame. Put in the millet and stir to roast it. The millet is done when it emits a roasted aroma and when some of the seeds turn a light-brown color. A few of the seeds might actually burst open like popcorn.
2. In a heavy 1 3/4 to 2-quart pot, melt the butter over a medium flame. Add the carrot, onion, cinnamon, and cloves. Stir and saute for about 5 minutes or until the onion is translucent. Add the raisins. Stir and saute another 5 minutes or until the onion just begins to brown at the edges. Add the roasted millet, salt and 2 3/4 cup water. Bring to a boil. Cover tightly, turn heat to very, very low and cook for 30 minutes.
3. Have some boiling water ready. Pour in 1/4 cup boiling water over the millet, stir quickly with a fork, cover again and continue to cook on the same low heat for another 10 minutes. Turn the heat off and let the pot site, covered, for another 15 minutes.

My notes:

The millet ends up fluffy, sweet, and just a bit dry, so serve this dish with a soup and salad or some sort of saucy stew.

This dish has a nutty, sweet and savory flavor combination that I really like. I enjoyed the carrots and raisins and the clove flavor, but would probably increase the amounts a tad the next time. I couldn’t really taste the cinnamon, however. I know that when you buy cinnamon sticks they come from an inferior cinnamon species than the kind that ground cinnamon comes from, so perhaps it would be better to skip the cinnamon sticks and just add ground cinnamon instead.Jaffrey doesn’t explain the reason for this two-part cooking technique, but it seems to work well. I’d like to try it without the last step sometime to see how adding the boiling water affects the texture of the millet.

This brilliant green vaguely pesto-like sauce is based on a recipe from Jack Bishop’s Italian Vegetarian Cookbook.  If you have a food processor it’s extremely simple and fast to make.

Bring 3 quarts of water to a boil in a large pot for cooking

• 10 ounces of whole-wheat fusilli pasta.

Combine in the work bowl of a food processor:

• 2 Tbs pine nuts, toasted (be very careful not to burn them at all!)
• 8 ounces flat-leaf spinach (about 3 cups tightly packed leaves), washed. Shake them to remove excess water but do not dry them.
• 2 medium garlic cloves
• 2 Tbs. extra virgin olive oil
• 1/2 cup ricotta cheese
• 1/4 cup parmigiano-reggiano cheese (or stir in afterwards for the best texture)
• 1/4? salt (heaping if no parmigiano is used)

My notes:

If your pasta is hot, just toss and serve. Otherwise, you can eat the sauce cold on the pasta but I prefer to briefly warm it in a small saucepan or the microwave first.

I like the bright green color and fresh flavor of this sauce. The ricotta adds creaminess and helps reduce the oil content so it’s less greasy than typical pestos. I’ve used tofu in place of the ricotta.  It’s different but I like it.  Both version have  a nice, creamy, but pleasantly rough texture. The flavor is mild (even a bit on the bland side–perhaps a little lemon juice would be good?). If you don’t have pine nuts you can substitute walnuts.

I think this recipe makes about 1.5 cups, and you need about 1/3 cup sauce for a big bowl of pasta.  This recipe makes a nice main dish but really needs a side as well.  I like to serve it with a chickpea or fava bean and fruit salad.

My apartment in Montreal just happens to be situated directly above a Taiwanese vegetarian restaurant: Yuan. Soon after I moved to Montreal I joined the Vegetarian Meetup group there for a Saturday lunch buffet. Although most of the folks at the Meetup raved about the place, and many said it was their favorite vegetarian restaurant in Montreal, I thought the food was generally pretty awful. I don’t know that I’ve ever had Taiwanese food before but I’ve had lots of Chinese food and this place ranks pretty low, even compared to the standard lunch buffet. Despite my negative experience, I decided to give the buffet a second try today, because I was starving, the place was pretty packed, and quite a few items on the buffet looked really good. Unforunately, however, my experience was almost the same as the last time 6 months ago.

They started me off with a bowl of won ton soup, which I enjoyed both this time and last time. The broth was clearly made with fresh celery, and was quite delicious–an unexpected surprise since vegetable broths are often tasteless or overpowered by MSG. They also have hot and sour soup which isn’t bad tasting, but is too cornstarch-y for my tastes. It has a lot of mushrooms, which I like, but some of them are very tough.

Most of the hot dishes are made with various kinds of fake meats. Although they can sometimes gross me out, I don’t have anything particular against fake meats a priori (I really love the mock duck at Chu Chai for instance). However, I found most of Yuan’s fake meat dishes to taste odd and have strange textures. The sauces were generally no better: they were too oily, too sweet, neither distinctive nor tasty. The vegetables were almost uniformly overcooked and tasteless. (Of course, overcooked vegetables are to be expected in a buffet situation and they might be more crisp when ordering a la carte.) I think I tasted 8 hot dishes today, but with one exception I only took one bite of each. I did go back for a bit of yuba from one of the dishes (I’m a sucker for yuba).

In addition to the fake meat dishes there was vegetable fried rice and some fried noodle dish. Both were greasy but flavorless. They also offered egg rolls, which had a nice light, relatively non-greasy wrapper, but unfortunately the filling was (again) totally tasteless.

Yuan also has a cold section of the buffet which includes cold vegetables salads, veggie maki rolls, fruit and desserts. Last time they had a fresh sesame asparagus salad that I quite enjoyed. Today there was a zucchini salad which was fine but not exciting, a too-old tomato and cucumber salad with too many dried herbs, and a seaweed salad which I didn’t try. I liked their maki rolls quite a bit both this time and last time, as well as their rice balls covered in yuba (tofu skin). They even had pickled ginger and wasabi. For a place that doesn’t specialize in sushi I thought their maki rolls were surprisingly good–they weren’t the most tightly rolled but were more interesting tasting than the rolls at many sushi places I’ve been to!

The baked desserts are uninteresting, but I enjoyed the fresh pineapple and especially liked the very thinly shaved sliced of green mango that they served today. I’m not sure whether or not it was supposed to be unripe, and it didn’t taste anything like mango, but it had a lovely balance of sweet and sour that helped to counteract all the grease and salt I had just ingested. Shaved green mango slices, perhaps wrapped around some kind of savory filling, is now something I want to try at home.

The only dish I’ve ordered a la carte is a bowl of peanut noodles, which were fine. I wouldn’t recommend them but I might order them again in a pinch.

The front of the restaurant where the buffet is located is rather boxy and although it’s decorated with all kinds of Chinese tchockes it doesn’t have a lot of ambience. However, when I went to the restroom today I discovered that there’s a very large section in the back of the restaurant with booths, low tables and cushions, almost Japanese in style. There was nobody there, and it didn’t seem like you were even allowed to sit there, but it seemed quite pleasant and more atmospheric than the relatively boxy front. Perhaps it is used for private parties?

I’ll probably head back to Yuan just because it’s so convenient, but I won’t try the buffet again. I’ll get a bowl of soup and some maki rolls, or perhaps try something off the a la carte menu. If anyone can recommend any particular dishes please post a comment.

Last night I pulled some seitan out of the freezer. I’m not positive but I think I made it using the recipe from Vegan with a Vengeance. It was quite spongey and wet, so I let it drain in a colander for a while, then sliced it into very thin slices. I dredged the slices in chickpea flour (besan), then lightly pan-fried them in my cast iron skillet. While they were cooking I sprinkled them with thyme, lots of black pepper, and a touch of cinnamon. I didn’t add any salt as the broth they were cooked in was very salty. The final seitan was a little crispy on the outside but still moist on the inside, and had a great savory flavor. I don’t think I would have been able to tell that there was thyme or cinnamon on it if I hadn’t already known. The flavors combined nicely with the chickpea flour to create a good savory base, without any one flavor being dominant.

A few of the fatter pieces still tasted sponge-y in the centre, and the seasonings hadn’t penetrated, so I put them back on the pan and let them cook a bit longer, pressing down on the pieces with my spatula to get the water out. That seemed to fix the problem.

I enjoyed snacking on the seitan, but haven’t figured out what I’m going to do with it yet. I’m thinking of eating it for dinner with brown rice and broccoli and some kind of light sauce. It will be a simple dinner but tasty.

A few years ago my friend Spoons adapted a Paula Wolfert Moroccan recipe for chicken, turning it into a tofu dish. He used very finely minced onions, lots of cinnamon and black pepper, dates, and red wine vinegar. The dish was served with couscous (of course). I really liked the cinnamon and black pepper combination in a savory recipe, and vowed to try it myself. I’ve tried making a similar tofu dish a few times but mine never came out quite as well as Spoons’s. I will keep trying, but I mention Spoons’s creation here because it was his tofu dish that inspired me to season my seitan with cinnamon today. I thought about adding some red wine as well, as called for in the recipe for Ethiopian Seitan in Vegan with a Vengeance, but after tasting the seitan I decided not to add anything; I liked it too much to risk screwing it up.

I don’t know how Marjoram is regarded in other parts of the world, but in the states it is sorely neglected, especially by vegetarians. On the rare occasion I actually see marjoram on a restaurant menu, it is almost always part of a meat dish.

I find marjoram to be the most floral of herbs (excluding lavender buds). It has a unique sweet, flowery, scent, with a faint whiff of citrus. Although the flavor of dried marjoram is quite strong, it somehow still retains the delicate character of the fresh herb. Marjoram’s closest relative is oregano, but it’s less savory and pungent than oregano. Marjoram is cousin to the other herbs in the Lamiaceae family: mint, basil, sage, lavender, rosemary, savory and thyme. Whereas rosemary, thyme, and sage all taste like Fall/Winter to me, and mint and basil taste like Summer, to me marjoram tastes like Spring.

Sadly, I have very few recipes that call for marjoram, but I’d like to remedy this. One recipe I have tried and liked is a recipe for pureed zucchini with marjoram from Second Helpings from Union Square. It’s definitely an unusual combination, but I really liked it (even if no one else did). Yesterday I made an omelet with mushrooms and some mixed frozen veggies (zucchini, tomato, mushroom…) and a little cheddar, and at the last minute added some soy sauce and marjoram. It was a great combination. I’d definitely make it again.

When browsing the web I found a recipe for beets with marjoram, which I cannot imagine but sounds intriguing. I also came across recipes for brussels sprouts with marjoram, which I think would go together well as the marjoram would highlight the sweetness of the sprouts. Other potential recipes include lentils and carrots with marjoram, pineapple and marjoram, ravioli with pine nuts and marjoram, marjoram and green beans, quesadillas with coriander and marjoram, and polenta with marjoram. I hope to try some of these recipes in the near future. In the meantime, if you have any favorite vegetarian recipes with marjoram please post a comment.

I recently tried the recipe for Italian baked tofu in Vegan with a Vengeance, and wasn’t a huge fan. I still want a good recipe for a flavorful baked tofu that can be used for sandwiches, so I decided to try this Greek-style marinade from Modern Vegetarian Kitchen by Peter Berley.

• 1/2 small red onion, thinly sliced
• 3 Tbs. olive oil
• 2 Tbs. white wine vinegar
• 2 Tbs. dry white wine
• 2 Tbs. finely chopped fresh dill
• 1 Tbs. whole-grain mustard
• 2 tsp. mild honey
• 1.5 tsp. coarse sea salt
• 1/2 tsp. coarsely milled black pepper
• 1 pound firm tofu, sliced 1/2 inch thick

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.
2. In a bowl, combine the onion, oil, vinegar, wine, dill, mustard, honey, salt and pepper. Lay the tofu slices in a baking dish that can hold them in a single snug layer. Pour the marinade over the tofu.
3. Bake for 45 minutes, or until the tofu is nearly dry and well browned.
4. Serve hot or cold.

I didn’t have fresh dill so I used frozen dill from the freezer (I froze it last summer, but it was pretty easy to just scoop out a few Tablespoons full). I didn’t have white wine vinegar so used white balsamic vinegar. Otherwise I followed the recipe exactly. I really liked the flavors. I was quite surprised to discover that I couldn’t taste the individual flavors that much, not even the dill. Instead, the flavors all melded together into a single flavor which I’ll call “Greek” for lack of a better word. The only change I’d make is to reduce the salt, as I found the tofu a bit too salty when eating it plain, although I didn’t notice the saltiness when using the tofu as a sandwich filling.

I tried to make this recipe for Derek when I visited him in Germany last week, but I hadn’t posted the recipe yet, so I had to try to remember it. I remembered everything but the white wine and the honey, and I used red wine vinegar instead of white wine vinegar, and added soy sauce by mistake. It was still reasonably tasty but definitely not as good, and not nearly as cohesive. I think the wine is essential, otherwise the tofu ends up tasting too vinegary.  Also, the soy sauce veers too much towards Asian rather than mediterranean.

I really like this tofu as a sandwich filling, especially with avocado and julienned carrots. If you don’t have avocado then substitute something else moist and rich, maybe a little cheese or olives or tomato and soy mayo. If you don’t have carrots find something else to fill in the crunch factor, maybe fresh cucumbers or radishes or julienned celery root or bean sprouts.

This is a simple dish that is truly more than the sum of its parts. The ingredient list is very short, but the combination of flavors is perfect, and the dish takes only 5 minutes to prepare.

Break broccoli into florets, and slice the stem along the bias. Steam until just tender-crisp. While the broccoli steams, mix together sesame oil and soy sauce. Toss the sauce over the broccoli, sprinkle copiously with fresh toasted sesame seeds, and serve immediately.

I don’t have amounts, as I generally just eyeball it, but I will try to measure next time I make it. Be careful not to overcook the broccoli; it goes from done to overdone in a very short time. I often bring my pot to a boil, then off the heat and let the broccoli sit covered for about 5 minutes, and find that the broccoli is done perfectly, and there is less risk of overdoing it.

This recipe is adapted from a recipe for arroz con pollo in the book This Organic Life: Confessions of an Urban Homesteader, which tells the story of Joan Dye Gussow’s attempts to source the majority of her food out of her own back-yard garden. Some reviewers complain that the book is repetitive, lacks focus, and has an annoyingly self-righteous tone. Although it does occasionally shift into lecture mode, I found it to more memoir than diatribe.  Gussow was a nutritionist, professor, and lecturer before she retired, but this book only briefly discusses that part of her life; instead, it focuses on her life post-retirement.  It’s rare in this youth-obsessed culture  to read about a woman over 60, so I enjoyed that aspect of the book.  I realized I was really curious about what the life of a highly educated and passionate woman is like after retirement. Both I and my mother thought that This Organic Life is a fun and moving memoir. If you enjoyed Barbara Kingsolver’s Animal, Vegetable, Miracle I highly recommend you pick up This Organic Life, as I enjoyed it even more than Kingsolver’s more recent version.

Heat in a heavy 3 to 4 quart casserole:

• 1 Tbs. oil

Add:

• 1 cup onions, finely chopped
• 1 large clove garlic, finely chopped

Cook to soften but not brown. Stir in:

• 1 Tbs. paprika
• 1 cup tomatoes (fresh, canned, or frozen) finely chopped

Bring to a fast boil over medium heat, stirring until most of the liquid evaporates. Add:

• 1.5 cups short-grain brown rice
• 1 cup fresh or frozen peas
• 3 cups boiling water or unsalted vegetable broth
• 1/8 tsp saffron threads, crushed
• salt

Bring to a boil quickly, then cover tightly, reduce heat, and allow to simmer for 30 minutes or until rice has absorbed the liquid. Let stand for 5 to 10 minutes before serving.

My notes. It is essential to make sure the broth is boiling before you add it to the rice, or else the dish becomes soupy and all the liquid won’t be absorbed. Even so, I might decrease the water to 1 2/3 cups next time I make it. I used muir-glen tomatoes, and thought that 1/2 tsp. salt was not enough. Next time I’ll try 3/4 tsp instead, but this will depend on how salty your tomatoes are. The peas tend to get soft and dull colored. You can add the peas closer to the end of the cooking time to maintain their bright color and crispness, but then the flavors do not blend as well and the dish is not as coherent. I’d be curious to try adding some chickpeas to this dish, for a little extra texture, protein, and their nutty flavor.

Even minus the chicken and salt pork, this recipe makes tasty, satisfying, comfort food. I also really like this dish because it was the first dish with saffron that I made and loved. Derek also enjoys it, and (somewhat mysteriously) swears he can taste the chicken; I think it must be the saffron he’s tasting. This is a very homey dish, but if you want to dress it up a little you can serve it paella style, in a large shallow pan with colorful roasted veggies layed out on top in a star pattern, and a head of roasted garlic in the middle, as shown on the right. Roasted cauliflower, green beans, and red bell pepper are especially nice.

My junior year of college I moved into the House of Commons housing cooperative. My first year at the co-op I was responsible for cooking Friday night dinner along with Heather, a rail-thin hyperactive Nia teacher. She was friendly and fun but unreliable, and tended to drift off into her own world while we cooked. I learned quickly that before addressing her in the kitchen I should say her name–”Heather”–wait for her to make eye contact, and only then talk to her. Otherwise she wouldn’t hear a word. Despite her quirks, one thing she did do reliably was bake great vegan cookies. My favorite were these crunchy, nutty, delicious cookies she called communist chip cookies. I gathered that Heather didn’t invent the recipe, it was passed on from co-op generation to generation. The name, however, was a mystery. “Why Communist cookies?” I asked. One theory was that it was because there was a little of everything in these cookies (peanut butter, chocolate chips, raisins, nuts, cinnamon…). Others thought they were called communist because they were developed by a member of the cooperative. Regardless of the proper derivation, they were very tasty cookies. Sadly, however, in the intervening years I’ve misplaced the recipe, and Google seems to have never heard of communist chip cookies. Anyone out there from my co-op days that still has a copy? Or have a recipe for something similar?

I can’t get myself to brave the cold to get to the store lately, so I’ve been scrounging around for food in the freezer, and dug up a bag of frozen green beans.  This is a lightning fast but still very tasty recipe for when you’re in a rush. For an even faster recipe leave out the onion and/or garlic, and substitute onion or garlic powder. This is very good with Muir Glen canned pizza sauce rather than plain tomato sauce. To make this more of a meal, serve it with a grain like brown rice.

In a skillet saute:

• 2 tsp. olive oil
• 1/2 onion, diced
• 1/4 tsp. dried chili flakes
• 3 garlic cloves, minced
• 10-20 kalamata olives, chopped

When the onions are soft, add:

• 1 bag (1 lb.?) green beans (I usually use frozen)
• 1/2 tsp. dry oregano (optional)

Finally, when the green beans are defrosted, add:

• 1/2 cup (more?) tomato sauce

Stir and heat through, then serve. Optional: sprinkle with a little crumbled feta.

I love my mom’s recipe for hash brown “omelets”, so when I was staring at the 3 sad parsnips languishing in my vegetable drawer I decided to try making a parsnip hash brown. I added 2 tsp. of olive oil to my cast iron skillet, let it warm up, then dropped in the grated parsnips and distributed them evenly around the pan. When the parsnips were starting to brown I tried to flip the pancake, but it didn’t hold together at all. Maybe parsnips don’t have enough starch, and I should have added a bit of arrowroot or besan? In any case, the parsnips browned nicely and tasted surprisingly similar to potato hashbrowns, except with a parsnip-flavor undertone. I sprinkled on a little nutmeg, which went nicely with the parsnip flavors. I also tried it with ketchup, which wasn’t bad, but it didn’t go as well as with potatoes. I feel like there is some spice that would perfectly accent the parsnip flavor, but I can’t place it. Any suggestions?

A second try:  this time I added 1.5 Tbs. of chickpea flour to 5 ounces of grated parsnips (grated in the food processor this time so the pieces were thicker).  The pancake almost held together, so I think it’s possible with a bit more work on the timing and heat.  I sprinkled my pancake with salt and 1/4 tsp. thyme this time, and it tasted quite delicious–the chickpea flour made the parsnips taste more savory, almost “meaty”, and more satisfying.  I can’t quite describe the flavor but it was definitely transformed.  That chickpea flour is clearly something I need to keep playing around with, as its power to change flavor profiles is impressive.

My friend Katrina made sweet potato hash for me once, and it was similar to the parsnip hash except was more moist (she used frozen grated sweet potatoes). I bet this technique would be a nice way of preparing many root vegetables. Rutabaga hash anyone? Celeriac hash? Anyone tried them?

I was curious how the nutritional content of a parsnip compares to that of a potato with the skin (its closest culinary relative in my opinion), and to a carrot (its closest edible botanical relative).  For the same number of calories (75), they’re surprisingly similar.   All three have about 90% of their calories from carbs, although parsnips and carrots have over twice as much fiber as potatoes (5g vs 5.6g vs 2.2g) and parsnips have slightly less protein than the other two.  None have a ton of calcium (less than 6% in all cases), but all three have a decent amount of vitamin C, and some iron.  The biggest difference is that carrots have vitamin A whereas the other two do not.  I didn’t check all the vitamin and mineral content, just these four, so there might be other differences.

If you love chocolate, get cold easily, and live in Montreal (in January), then there’s nothing better than a steaming cup of hot chocolate with breakfast, or before bed. But a word of warning: don’t buy any prepared hot cocoa mixes. Even the “upscale” sounding ones like Ghiradelli list sugar as the first ingredient, which is just wrong. They taste more like sugar than chocolate. So make your own mix, or just whip together a cup when you happen to get a hankering, or (more often) you’ve just walked home in -10 weather. Hot cocoa seems like such a simple thing to make, and yet there are a surprising number of bad recipes out there. The first hot chocolate recipe I tried was Penzey’s recipe, as written on their cocoa bag. Their instructions are simple.

Combine and heat:

• 4 cups milk
• 3 Tbs. sugar
• 1-2 Tbs. cocoa
• dash of cinnamon
• dash of vanilla

This recipe is so bad it’s embarassing. First of all, even with 2 Tbs. of cocoa, this recipe is way too sweet for me. Secondly, in the past five years I’ve discovered through personal experimentation that hot cocoa tastes much better if made with part water, not all milk.

I then looked up Cook’s Illustrated’s recipe, and they recommend one and one-half tablespoons of cocoa and one heaping tablespoon of sugar per cup of liquid, which is not bad, but I think I still prefer a slightly higher cocoa to sugar ratio. I was pleased to find that they’ve found it’s important to mix the cocoa and sugar initially with water rather than milk, as the chocolate flavor and subtler fruity notes are released better in water than milk.

To make 4 cups of hot chocolate, using the Cook’s Illustrated recipe:

In a heavy 2-quart (not non-stick) saucepan, whisk together until smooth:

• 6 Tbs Dutch-process cocoa (When Dutched, chocolate’s natural acidity is reduced by means of treatment with an alkaline solution.)
• 4 heaping Tbs sugar
• Small pinch salt
• 1 cup water

Simmer, whisking continuously, for 2 minutes, making sure whisk gets into the edges of pan. Add:

• 3 cups low-fat milk (1 or 2 percent)

Increase heat to medium-low, and cook, stirring occasionally with whisk, until steam rises from surface and tiny bubbles form around edge, 12 to 15 minutes. Do not boil. Add:

• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1/4 cup half-and-half

My Notes: I don’t really understand why they tell you to cook the cocoa after adding the milk for another 12 to 15 minutes. It seems excessive to me. I usually just heat it until it’s warm, which just takes a few minutes. My most recent batch I used 2 tsp. of sugar and 4 tsp. of cocoa per cup, and threw in a tiny candy cane to add a bit of a mint flavor (mint and chocolate is one of my favorite combinations: I usually don’t have mini candy canes lying around so add mint extract. I’m also curious to try making it with a mint tea bag.) The cocoa was nice and chocolately, and sweet enough.

Variations: CI suggests a variation made with orange peel. Other common variations call for cinnamon, ground coffee, or almond extract, but I haven’t tried these recently. I’d also like to try making hot cocoa with almond or hazelnut or hemp milk instead of cow’s milk or soymilk. Other interesting sounding variations have you add a bit of peanut butter or other nut butter, or even ginger. Of course, there’s always other flavor extracts to try, like hazelnut extract. Finally, I’d like to try a spicy hot chocolate, with cayenne or chili powder or maybe ancho powder.

An odd variation I sometimes make is molasses hot cocoa. Blackstrap molasses is a nutritional powerhouse, and can be used as a sweetener for hot cocoa. It adds an interesting flavor and great color.

• 1/2 Tbs. dutch-process cocoa
• 4 Tbs. water
• 1 Tbs. blackstrap molasses
• 1 cup unsweetened soymilk

Sift the cocoa into a mug, and mix in the water until it forms a smooth paste. Add the molasses and soymilk, then heat in the microwave for about 1 minute 45 seconds. The taste of the molasses is quite strong and takes some getting used to, but is quite nice once you’re acclimated.

Calories: 154 (fat 29%, sat fat 6%, carbs 49%, protein 22%)
Calcium: 481 (48%)
Iron: 6 (33%)
Vitamin A: 1000 (25%)
Vitamin C: 0 (0%)

Note: I usually use unsweetened soymilk, but it’s okay with plain (e.g. slightly sweetened) soymilk as well. With very sweet soymilk you probably should reduce the molasses or it will be syrupy sweet.

Here’s another variation I make sometimes:

Cinnamon Orange Sugar-less Hot Cocoa

• 2 Tbs. dutch-process cocoa
• 1/2 tsp. cinnamon
• 1/2 cup water
• 1/2 cup unsweetened soymilk
• 1 Tbs. orange juice concentrate
• 6 drops of liquid stevia

Sift the cocoa into a mug, then ad the cinnamon. Mix in the water until it forms a smooth paste. Add the oj concentrate and soymilk, then heat in the microwave for about 1 minute 45 seconds. Then add the stevia. I don’t love the taste of stevia, but I find I can’t taste it at all in this recipe.

Calories 98 (28% fat, 8% sat fat, 50% carbs, 22% protein)
Calcium 182 (18%)
Iron 2.7 (15%)
Vit A 570 (14%)
Vit C 25 (33%)

Tips on making hot cocoa in the microwave: When you make hot cocoa on the stove you can whisk it while it’s heating to remove any lumps. Microwave hot cocoa is much more prone to be lumpy. I’ve found that there are two things you can do to avoid lumps. One, to put your cocoa through a sieve. Two, start by mixing the cocoa with a small amount of water to make a slurry. Stir until all the lumps are dissolved and you have a smooth paste. If you try to mix the cocoa into a larger amount of water, or with another liquid, it’s more difficult to get rid of all the lumps.

I really like the idea of a fennel salad, but haven’t yet made a fennel salad I really like. Last week I tried making a salad inspired by this recipe: spanish fennel and orange salad from Cooking Light. Unfortunately, I started off poorly because the orange I bought weren’t the greatest: they were not very flavorful and kind of stringy. I didn’t have red onions, or orange juice, so instead added in some minced preserved lemons. The preserved lemons were a mistake; the brininess and aged flavor did not mesh with the bright flavors of the orange and mint. In general the flavor of the salad was just too muddy–too many different things going on. It needed to be simpler with fewer ingredients. Probably mint and fennel would be a good combo, or coriander and fennel, or orange and fennel, but not orange and mint and coriander… The yogurt didn’t add anything, just muddied up what should have been a salad with a crisp, refreshing texture. The salad wasn’t terrible the first day, but the next day the oranges had gotten totally soggy and pretty unappetizing, and the whole thing was a soupy mess. I had to toss it.

I know, vegan french toast sounds like an oxymoron, right? But I had a lot of leftover chickpea flour and was looking for something to do with it, and came across this recipe in Vegan with a Vengeance.

To make the french toast you mix together soy milk and soy creamer (I used all soymilk), cornstarch (I used arrowroot), and chickpea flour (besan) into a slurry. You soak your sliced, stale bread in the slurry briefly, then fry the bread in an oiled cast iron skillet.

The recipe worked surprisingly well. I wouldn’t say it tastes exactly like egg- and butter-based french toast, but it was certainly reminiscent of traditional french toast, and tasty. I mean, how can you go wrong with fried bread? This recipe has basically no nutritional content, so I might be more inclined to use it as the base for a dessert rather than breakfast, but it’s certainly an interesting recipe, that I’d like to work with. If I make it again I’d definitely add something: perhaps cardamom, or cinnamon, or a fruit compote. I haven’t figured it out yet, but I know this recipe has the potential to create a very tasty, and also very interesting dish. I’d like to hear anyone else’s ideas of what to do with this recipe. I’d love some way to incorporate in some vegetables, if possible. I thought it perhaps could be used to make a layered vegetable bread pudding, but I’d be afraid it would get soggy, when one of the appeals of this recipe is the crispness of the bread.

I’d also like to try it without the chickpea flour, not because I think it’s unnecessary, but because I’d like to understand better exactly what role the chickpea flour is serving.

Note that although there’s no added salt in the recipe, I found the french toast plenty salty, I’m not sure why. Where is the salt coming from?

I’ve mentioned previously how much I love sesame seed halvah, and although it is bears only a hazy relationship to the middle eastern sesame dessert, I really like Indian-style carrot halwah as well. Derek adores the carrot halwa at Vatan in NYC, and we’ve tried a number of recipes without much success at replicating it. However, when I saw this recipe in my new cookbook Ajanta, I was certain it was authentic.

You combine 3/8 pound grated carrots and 1 quart whole milk in a saucepan and cook for an hour, whisking frequently. After an hour you add 6 Tbs. butter, 3/8 cup sugar, and cardamom seeds and cook for another 30 minutes to 1 hour. Before serving you sprinkle with slivered almonds and pistachio pieces.

The instructions say to make the halvah in a saucepot, so I selected my 2 quart saucepot which is relatively narrow. In retrospect, given how long it took the milk to reduce, I think it might have been preferable to choose a saucepot with a wider opening. At first we tried cooking the milk and carrot mixture over medium heat but after an hour it was barely reduced. When we turned the heat up we had to whisk it very regularly to keep it from burning. Even so, we did sear the bottom a bit.

The final halvah was almost identical to the one from Vatan: the texture was very moist and thick (almost sliceable), and the flavor was carrot-y, buttery, and had a very subtle sweetness and a strong cardamom presence. Personally, I thought it was just a bit too rich and could have used less butter, but Derek loved it. We both liked the strong cardamom flavor that was emitted whenever we would bite into a cardamom seed, but I thought a bit more cardamom flavor throughout would be good, and could be achieved by adding a bit of ground cardamom. Derek disagreed.

I’d like to make this again, but I have to admit that it took a lot of attention and time. It wasn’t a huge deal since we were near the stove making all the other dishes for our Indian extravaganza, but I have to wonder if the recipe can be simplified. Why does it have you start with milk and then reduce it for over an hour? Clearly the carrots have to cook down, but couldn’t you start with cream, or at least half and half? Is there some reason that cream would yield a different taste or texture then starting with milk? Or maybe it’s just harder to get cream in India? Also, I’d like to try it with less butter. I’m guessing that the texture would be less firm if I did that, but that’s okay with me as I actually prefer my halvah soupy. I actually poured extra milk over mine to cut the butteriness a bit, and make it moister.

One last note: this saucepot I made the halvah in was probably the most challenging dish I’ve ever had to clean. Even after soaking it for 2 days I could not get it clean. The hardened milk on the sides was invulnerable to everything I threw at it, including my previously infallible cherry pits scrub. I didn’t have any brillo pads, but I think they would have helped.

Rating: B+
Derek: B+

Kela means banana (in some Indian language), and although I’ve never heard of it before or had it at a restaurant, apparently banana raita is quite common; at least, I found lots of similar recipe when searching for it on google. This recipe is from the cookbook Ajanta, by Lachu Moorjani. A few friends of mine love the author’s restaurant Ajanta in Northern California, and bought me and Derek his cookbook as a present, along with a lovely box of Indian spices. When I first unwrapped the spice box I was a little concerned that I already had all the spices, but it turns out it contains lots of ones I don’t have: black cumin seeds, black rock salt, dried fenugreek leaves, nigella seeds, dried pomegranate seeds, white poppy seeds… And all the spices are very fresh. What a lovely gift! I looked through the cookbook and picked a few recipes to try first, and this recipe for banana raita instantly caught my eye. It sounded unusual, but easy to make and very tasty.

• 1 Tbs. oil
• 2 tsp. black mustard seeds
• 1 dry red chilies, cut into pieces no larger than 1/4 inch
• 1 banana, peeled and cut into 1/4 to 1/2 inch dice
• 1/2 tsp. salt
• 1/2 tsp. paprika
• 2 cups plain whole milk yogurt
• 1 tsp. ground toasted cumin

Heat the oil in a 1 to 2 quart saucepan. When it’s hot, add the mustard seeds and chilies. As soon as the mustard seeds begin to pop turn off the heat (should only take about 5 to 10 seconds). Mix in the banana, salt, paprika, and yogurt. Before serving, sprinkle with the cumin. Serve cold.

My notes: I used lowfat yogurt (1.5% fat) and it came out delicious. I also missed the bit about serving it cold, and served it right off the stove: not hot but certainly not cold. Finally, I missed the instructions to dice the banana, and just sliced it, but I liked the big slices. In fact, both Derek and I really liked this raita. The sweet banana and creamy yogurt were a welcome contrast to all the spicy Indian food we were eating, and the black mustard seeds, paprika and cumin give the raita tons of flavor. It was perhaps just a tad salty for my taste, so next time I might use a sparing 1/2 tsp., and if possible I’d cut down the oil since my other Indian dishes usually use a lot of oil. Other than that I wouldn’t change a thing, and I’ll definitely include this recipe in my next Indian extravaganza. It’s also a great recipe for using up very ripe bananas.

Rating: B+
Derek: B

I love avocado rolls, but even more than the rolls, I love the holy Japanese trinity of wasabi, soy sauce, and pickled ginger. (Note: don’t confuse the holy trinity with the vegan triumvurate.) In search of a dish to make at home that would be simpler than avocado rolls, I came up with the brilliant idea for sushi beets. The sweetness of the beets is almost, but not quite drowned out by the strong Japanese flavors, but the silky texture is a surprisingly good base for these condiments. This isn’t so much as recipe as it is a cooking concept:

• beets, boiled or roasted, peeled, and sliced
• soy sauce
• wasabi paste
• pickled ginger
• lime juice or rice vinegar (to represent the vinegar in the sushi rice)

If you want to make this even more reminiscent of a maki roll, you could garnish with toasted nori strips.

Derek was here last week and we did a lot of cooking, made lots of different dishes, and yet we still ended up eating lots of leftovers. Ours wasn’t necessarily the healthiest menu ever, but we had a lot of fun, and made lots of tasty recipes (as well as some disasters). Here’s what we ate for our meals over the week, to the best of my memory:

Saturday lunch: leftover spinach and mushroom lasagna

Saturday dinner

• spanish potato omelet with roasted red pepper sauce
• pan-roasted brussels sprouts w/ yellow pepper sauce
• fennel, orange, and mint salad

Sunday brunch: sandwiches with seitan o’greatness and italian baked tofu (separately, not together), avocado, mustard, julienned carrots, and spicy yellow pepper sauce
Sunday dinner: roast vegetables (squash, parsnips, potatoes, sweet potatoes, …) with thai green curry paste

Monday brunch: apricot millet breakfast cake with warm milk
Monday dinner

• broiled raclette served with sliced apples and farm bread
• roast veggies w/curry paste (leftovers)
• dessert: ice cream with almond hazelnut butter

Tuesday brunch: leek and mushroom spring rolls with fresh mint and thai basil
Tuesday dinner: seitan mushroom stroganoff over pasta

Wednesday lunch: leftover spanish omelet with pepper sauce
Wednesday dinner: dinner at Laloux

Thursday breakfast: more tofu and seitan sandwiches sandwiches
Thursday lunch: chickpea salad and broccoli cauliflower salad (from the work cafeteria), and clementines
Thursday dinner: leftover stroganoff, sauteed asian greens, and mashed rutabaga

Friday breakfast: millet raspberry almond cake
Friday lunch: shmorgasborg of leftovers
Friday dinner: dinner at Madre

Saturday brunch: more italian tofu / seitan o’greatness sandwiches and celery root salad
Saturday dinner: pizza out
Sunday brunch: grapefruit, tempeh bacon, and leftover celery root salad

Sunday Indian extravaganza:

• gujarati sweet and sour kidney beans
• mushroom and spinach saag
• banana raita
• basmati rice with black cumin and mung beans
• whole wheat nan (store bought)
• carrot halvah

If I haven’t already made this clear, Derek is a peanut butter fiend. He can go through a whole jar in just a few days. He starts off every day with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and he’ll often follow that with several spoonfuls of peanut butter in the afternoon, only to finish the day off with a bowl of ice cream drizzled with peanut butter. (He sometimes gives me a taste and I must admit it is an amazingly tasty combination.)

His is a picky passion, however: he’s tried just about every natural brand of peanut butter there is, and dismisses them all, proclaiming that none lives up to plain old, old-fashioned Smuckers. Even the organic Smuckers he claims tastes inferior. (He’s also extremely picky about the jam for his pb&j, insisting on Smuckers grape jam. To his dismay, Smuckers grape jam apparently does not exist in Montreal, nor anything similar for that matter. If you know of a source, please post a comment. You’ll make Derek very happy. And no, he does not find Welch’s grape jelly acceptable.)

Whoops! Back to the nut butter saga….

A few years ago we discovered almond butter at the East End food co-op, then branched out to cashew butter. Everytime I brought Derek to the co-op he would buy extravagant (or so it seemed to me) amounts of nut butters from the bulk bins. Given his love of nut butters, I decided to surprise Derek with a selection of Quebec nut butters when he arrived in Montreal last