a [sur]prize in every box!

I had a revelation this morning as I was getting out of the shower.

Angst always sits in the bathroom to keep me company while I shower in the morning (or afternoon, on days off sometimes).  As I was stepping out of the shower, I asked him if it was bad that I was already actively anticipating the end of the work day I had not yet begun, purely because I have tomorrow off?  See, I just started my job a month ago and I am very happy there.  However, here is the discovery Angst and I made this morning:

No matter how much you enjoy your job, you still prefer your days off.


I could be wrong.  Some people find their jobs positively completing and I know there are folks the uninitiated refer to as "workaholics" who find their job so fulfilling (or inescapable) that they would be perfectly happy to just take a dinner break and keep working into the night.  I enjoy my job enough to work on things far into the night, but I prefer to do so in the comfort of my own home, until Mister tears me away from my computer and reminds me we have a bed, too.  Nevertheless, I was very happy to finish up this evening a little after 6 and once again, magically get home before the sun fully set.

I love how much time my new schedule/shorter commute allows Mister and I to spend lingering over dinner or hanging out before I even start heating a pot.  I love that even though we had a nice little conversation and then I talked to my sister for about 20 minutes while emptying the dishwasher and putting various other things where they belong, I could still take my time and make dinner at my pace - no need to rush.  After dinner, Mister made decaf coffee and we sat and talked about my sister's new boyfriend and people getting pregnant and trapping themselves in a situation that looks like "mandatory marriage" - and by the way, those two things are unrelated - Breathe, Mom!  Anyway, we just kind of babbled at each other about the obscure things we find interesting and when we excused ourselves, it wasn't even 10!

We had the last meal on the last menu, Warm Chickpea Ragout with Swiss Chard, Carrots and Harissa from Vegetarian Times Fast & Easy.

We've had this several times before, but Mister had absolutely no recollection of it.  It did taste a little different - a little more savory, which added the benefit of controlling Harissa's heat.  The only thing I could think of that I did differently was that I used a half cup of the leftover garlic broth, which is pretty pungent.  I also added a generous amount of salt and I can't remember if I've done that in the past, since I usually only mess with things that have a specified quantity, rather than the disgruntling "to taste."

It was very tasty and I love how harissa allows me to eat spicy things without my entire face burning off in the process.

Anyway, completely by coincidence, my menu ran out the night before my day off (I wasn't originally supposed to be off tomorrow), so let me share a short menu with you - a mini-menu, if you will.  Full-sized version will be introduced over the weekend.  A recent comment reminded me just how well loved my Sundays at Moosewood Restaurant cookbook has been over the years - in fact, I'm pretty sure that was a primary guide for me as I learned how to cook.  Pages are dog-eared and stained, some stick together a little at the yellowing edges, and favorites have been marked along with "someday I have to try this" recipes.  I've been neglecting the book for years, so I decided to pull it out for this week's menu. I had thought that I'd been neglecting it because a lot of the recipes take a while to cook, but I discovered two other things that have probably been deterring me unconsciously.

First, the recipes are built for a restaurant, and are therefore, huge.  I don't need that much food and I don't feel like figuring out how to divide everything to only make enough for me and Mister and Leftover Lunch.  Second, and probably more importantly, there are very few vegan recipes and the tweaks required would probably strip away the charm of the original recipe.

"Hey! I veganized a recipe that someone converted from a meal full of meat into a vegetarian recipe."  Wow.  That's great.  That sounds like cousins who can legally marry, barely, to me.  So, with all that in mind, I chose the following three irresistible recipes, all from Sundays at Moosewood Restaurant.

1. Vegetable Biryani - I have not had many moments in my culinary "career" as proud as the moment I made this the first time.  After years of spaghetti and veggie burgers, this was a gourmet achievement of the highest order.  It's actually really easy, but I haven't made it in a while because I have an even easier recipe with fewer steps (and fewer pots).

2. Pasta e Fagioli because hey, what's one more Pasta e Fagioli recipe when you're keeping a secret tally of how many Pasta e Fagioli recipes you have to how many Beans 'n' Rice recipes you have?

3. Harira, which is a huge pot of African soup which Muslims traditionally eat to break the fast of Ramadan.  We are neither African nor Muslim and if we were fasting, Mister would need a lot more than soup to break the fast, but this was one of the first soups I ever made that did not involve a can-opener, so you can consider this a little prideful trip down Memory Lane.

My fingers are cold.  I think it's time for a Cosmo.  See you tomorrow!

"rudolph" the red-faced trainer

I'm feeling a little bit like Rudolph at the beginning of the song.  No one likes being excluded from "reindeer games," but when you're talking about work relationships, that silent, withheld "why?" is ever-present on the mind.  It's all good - just one more kick in the behind to get me moving [again] on what feels like a continual search for a job closer to home.

But you don't want to read about my [continual] work frustrations.  You want to read about happy things, like our delicious and easy-to-make Pasta with Beans and Chard from Vegan Express.

Ain't it pretty?  It's super tasty, too, and not nearly as salty as I am right now.  Rather, it has a sweet taste from the combination of tomatoes and cranberries (which I sub for the raisins Mister hates).  It was a good dinner for slurping while sharing my tales of woe with Mister.  Now that I've given up (at least temporarily) on trying to understand the twisted minds of my colleagues and the disconnect from reality of just about everyone else on the second floor of my office building, I can focus on fun stories like this:

A few days ago, I was unloading the dishwasher (by the way, I love my dishwasher).  Even though I knew I shouldn't, even though I know wineglasses are delicate, I was tugging on one to try to dislodge it from the top rack where I had apparently placed it between the wall and a hard place.  To no one's great surprise, the wineglass finally yielded to my tugs and broke free of the rack...quite literally.

After I located the few shards of glass that fell down onto the door of the appliance, I carefully disposed of them and placed the chunk-missing wineglass upside down in the recycling bag.  I didn't really mourn the wineglass's loss, since it was one of a set of six and the other six are still dusty from the move.  That set of 6 5 is just one of several sets of wineglasses of varying heights, depths, shapes, and colors.  Nevertheless, I was touched to come home after a craptastic day at work to find that Mister had gone out today and bought me a new wineglass - the prettiest one in the store, he said.

As luck would have it, astonishingly stupid days at work normally result in an inadvertent detour through the wine store on my way home from work, so I just happened to have a bottle of Cupcake Red Velvet wine (on sale, which is important a couple of days before the paycheck and right after a person pays their rent...).  The glass is a little smaller and therefore holds a little less wine.

That's probably a good thing.  The wine itself is a blend of merlot, zinfandel, petite syrah, and cabernet, which comes off with the vaguest sparkle.  Though the wine is most definitely dark, owed primarily to the blend starting with 47% zin, it has an obvious light berry taste and kind of resembles a chianti, both in flavor and mouthfeel.  Before I take all the fun out of this wine by over-analyzing it, I would like to point out that though I think it would be awesome to be a sommelier, I really just like to rave about drinkable wines.  This is not gourmet nor impressive by any stretch of the imagination, and I would serve it more for the novelty of its name than for any desire to share an incredible vintage with treasured guests.  I have a decent stock of those wines already in my head - this one's just for fun.

memories come in different flavors

Do you remember buttermints?  I do.  I remember going to the Candlelight Diner with my mother, sister, and grandmother.  I couldn't possibly tell you what I ate there, but I remember two things distinctly.  Each table had its very own individual juke box that played a variety of songs.  The only one my sister and I played, over and over, was the theme for The Greatest American Hero.  By the way, William Katt is actually a fantastic actor and did a terrific job in one of my favorite musicals, Pippin.

Anyway, the other thing I remember is the little glass bowl of pastel-colored buttermints at the cash register.  This was way before people knew about things like germs and how gross it was to touch things other people touched, so it's really a miracle I lived to adulthood considering how much I loved grabbing a handful of those mints.

I'm a fan of dessert before dinner, and even though I ate dinner first, then had a little dessert, I want to tell you about that first, while it's fresh in my mind and relevant to my trip down Memory Lane (but don't worry, folks, we're far from finished that joyride).  When I was stocking our brand new, clean freezer, I wanted to get some Mint Chip Tempt "ice cream."  Unfortunately, Essene didn't feel like stocking it the day I was there, but not to leave empty-handed, I picked up Rice Dream Mint Carob Chip, despite my ambivalence towards carob as a chocolate substitute.

I haven't spent a lot of time with rice milk because I'm perfectly happy with soy, almond, and/or coconut.  However, since I put so much effort into making the Rice Vegan "cheese" slices melt, I figured it couldn't hurt to try the "ice cream" and see how it compared to some of my favorites.

The first taste was a shock - extraordinarily minty, far more than I was expecting.  At first I thought it was disgusting but I wanted to give it a chance.  I realized, mid-mouthful, that it tasted like a frozen version of my beloved buttermints...but without all the artery-clogging butter and germs.  So, that was a happy little surprise (so were the spoon "tracks" that showed Mister tried a little bit, too, while I was at work).

Speaking of segues...I mean, Speaking of Mister....
I woke up at 5:30 AM this morning because a kitty jumped over my head.  In my groggy state of Why-the-H-am-I-Awake, it took me a moment to remember he wasn't supposed to be in the bedroom and that we close the door every night to keep him out.  I turned to see if Mister was going to kill the cat, but Mister was not there...which explained how the kitty got in... Apparently, Mister's good night of sleep two nights ago was kind of like the one time in 2010 that I didn't have trouble cooking brown rice - a fluke.  Last night, his insomnia returned in full force, so sometime in the early morning hours, he got up and decided that it's never too early for metal.

When I finally dragged myself from the bedroom at the late, late hour of 7am, Mister was wide awake and strumming furiously on his little guitar (with headphones on, thank God).

Why don't we head back down Flashback Alley for a quick safety reminder.  Remember when you were a kid, but finally old enough to "help" in the kitchen?  Maybe mom let you use the fancy can opener to open the baked beans or something?  What did she always say? Be careful; the edges are sharp.

 
Looks like someone didn't listen very well.
Or maybe, someone was just a little overzealous about getting the last three artichoke hearts out of the bottom of the can where they had all crammed themselves against each other and wouldn't come out until I bled.  Until "someone" bled, that is.

Regardless of my injury (and you were worried about germs on the buttermints?), our Tuscan Vegetable Ragout was a delightful and filling dinner.  It really makes a huge yield, causing me to ponder whether to replace my saute pan with a 4-qt or if I should just go for the gusto and get a 5-qt...only time and space will tell, I suppose.

I think it gets bigger (and better) every time I make it.  I need to start reining myself in - just because I can add smoked tofu and macaroni to the 14 oz of Killer Artichoke Hearts, 2 zucchini, 14 oz tomatoes, and 28 oz of cannellini beans doesn't mean I should.  Perhaps in the interest of my 3-qt saute pan, I'll learn some restraint before the next time I make this.

 

Or maybe I'll just buy a bigger sauteuse.

After all, it's not like this is the only recipe I run into that trouble with.  I could have made the bulgur pilaf in a saute pan if I thought it would have held the kale.  I had a little trouble combining all the ingredients for our dinner tonight, too: Warm Chickpea Ragout with Swiss Chard, Carrots, and Harissa from Vegetarian Times: Fast & Easy.  In case you were wondering what's in it....

You don't really need me to spell it out for you, do you?  After all, the book pretty much did that in the recipe title.

Despite Harissa repeatedly kicking me in the back of my throat, this really is a wonderfully tasty dinner.  My only grievance was with the tomatoes.  I used a different brand of fire-roasted tomatoes than I usually do and I could really taste the difference - these were acidic, not nearly as sweet as other brands.  The sweetness of the other brands are what allow me to actually eat this dinner, rather than choke and sputter through it as though I had accidentally made Martha's Apple-Chickpea Curry.

Due to time constraints, I substituted bulgur for the rice upon which I usually serve this.  As a result, I may need to pull a creative little switcheroo a little further down the week.  We'll see how that turns out.  Stay tuned - this could get exciting!

angry belly

This has been the sickest winter in years.  I don't think I've been ill this frequently since I was working part-time in a public school and the other part of the time I was going into relatively filthy homes to tell other people how the county thought they should raise their children.  Just when I finally stopped sniffling and sneezing, something horrible happened to my digestive system.  But first, pictures of what has transpired since Friday:

On Saturday, I went food shopping.  In an utterly adorable move, Mister followed me out the door when I was on my way to Whole Foods.  Like a little puppy, he walked beside me and explained that he wanted to spend time with me (since I'm never home since I'm always either at work or commuting to/from).  He misses me when I'm at work, which I love.

However, after dodging drunkards to get to Whole Foods and Superfresh and filling our baskets despite a large number of people milling around without the vaguest clue why they came to this magical place with so much food, I had no desire to actually cook any of the food.  I don't want to lay blame on one of my favorite restaurants, but that may have been my most recent undoing.

Pictured just above is the Vegetable Sayadia at Cedars on 2nd and South.  We haven't been to Cedars in ages, but now it is literally around the corner.  In fact, I think if I could leap moderately tall buildings in a single bound, I could walk out of the little tunnel that leads to the street, jump one block East and be directly in front of the restaurant.  I got this once before with my friend, which inspired this recipe, and when I proposed that we dine there on Saturday, I knew that was what I was going to get.

Mister always orders fries with peppers and onions.  I always steal a few and eat around the onions.  We also got baba ghanouj for an appetizer and Mister wanted a plate of olives and feta.  I ordered my Sayadia without mushrooms this time, and as a testament to their continually spectacular service, our server asked if I would like to substitute eggplant for the fungus.

I love Cedars and would never want to accuse them of wrong doing, but something has not been right with my belly since Saturday night.  There was some kind of little growly thunderstorm going on Saturday night and woke up Sunday feeling extremely nauseated.  I'll spare some gory details, but let's just say my digestive system felt the need to cleanse itself of something...

That being said, I have also been dizzy and have a strange taste in my mouth, so I'm wondering if I have some kind of inner ear infection.  Since I get motion-sick pretty easily, being dizzy could be enough to nauseate me.  I'll admit, I was more than a little nervous about taking the no-way-out train to work today (and took two plastic bags, just in case).  I'm kind of hoping for the infection because I don't want to think I got food poisoning from one of my happy places.

Anyway, since I was not feeling my best, Sunday was not as productive as I wanted it to be, although there was an exciting hour and half that gave Mister and I the opportunity to see just how wet we could get when there is a drenching downpour and the Philly Car Share car won't unlock.  I made dinner last night and did not stuff myself with it only because I thought it might make me puke.  Not the dinner - dinner was awesome.  Just that whole putting food in my mouth and swallowing it action.

I made Forty-Clove Chickpeas and Broccoli from Appetite for Reduction.  I can't get over how wonderful it smells when its roasting away in the oven (which I'm still trying to figure out how to work, but I could probably fill a whole post with that adventure).  I really could have gone to town on this if my belly was behaving, but I could barely finish my broccoli on mashed potatoes.

When I got up this morning, I had really high hopes for my stomach.  Within minutes of waking, I was fairly certain I was going to lose my breakfast...although I hadn't actually eaten any yet.  For reasons I may never know, I did cut up and apple and make tea, even though I thought I was going to lose it the moment I put a slice of apple in my mouth.  Miraculously, I ate breakfast and took a shower before needing a short nap.  I made it to work (with my two bags) and upon returning home, was just hungry enough to try my hand at an old favorite:

Pasta with Beans and Chard from Vegan Express never lets me down.  I always forget how good it is until I'm eating it.  I put it on the menu because I remember that it's super-easy to make and tastes good, but then I take my first bite and can't believe I don't make this more frequently.

It's tasty, it's attractive, the only thing I would improve is how soupy it is at the bottom.  I think I should start draining the tomatoes, but I'm hesitant to do that since they're "Italian" which means the juices have all the good stuff.  Regardless, there is just too much liquid, so maybe it will be a compromise...half-drained?

In any case, I like the way the savory garlic-infused olive oil brings out the sweetness of the dried cranberries I sub for raisins since Mister is personally offended by them.  Although the recipe says a person could use cannellini beans or "pink" beans, I can't imagine anything fitting the texture need the way the cannellini beans do. 

Sweet dreams!  Here's hoping I don't wake up wanting to barf again!

miso bad at beans + chopsticks

I really need to stop doing that.  I mean, really, there are only so many times you can turn "miso" into a culturally insensitive pun before it's not funny anymore.  Or, maybe it was never funny and I'm too much like my father.  Regardless, I couldn't resist, so forgive me this one last time.

In case my wretched title didn't give it away, tonight's dinner was Miso Udon Stirfry with Greens and Beans from Appetite for Reduction.  I was a little hesitant by the time I started prepping because it seemed like a lot of work.  Somewhere in my pondering, though, it appears I started combining the ingredients lists for two separate recipes because after I had washed my plum tomatoes and pulled out the ginger, I realized they weren't a part of this recipe and back in their chilly home they went. 

Once I set about prepping the ingredients that actually are a part of the recipe, everything went pretty quickly.  Once again, I must attribute my new-found speed with my handsome new knives.  Whenever someone says "size doesn't matter," I've become convinced they don't know how valuable an extra couple of inches are.

I'm talking about my 6" utility knife.  Get your mind out of the gutter.

Anyway, I burnt the broccoli, just like Isa said to and laughed to myself about a memory it evoked: [put on your flashback glasses and watch the screen] Many, many years ago, between becoming a vegetarian and learning how to cook, I moved into my first apartment in the city all by myself.  It was a terrific apartment - about twice the size of the one I moved into with my husband (yes, logic took a vacation in that decision-making process), with a bigger kitchen and a designated area to be used for dining.  I relied pretty heavily on frozen broccoli and "stir-frying" it in an old aluminum skillet as part of one of the only dinners I could make: veggie lo mein.  One night, I was doing my best impression of "making dinner" for Mister and I and he had the nerve to interrupt the rapt attention I was paying to the broccoli to give me hugs and kisses.  In the moments that followed, I burnt the broccoli and did not recognize this could be spun into a culinary delicacy.

So, after I purposely burnt the broccoli tonight, without Mister's help, I sauteed the garlic and chard while the udon boiled, and then completely forgot to steal a 1/2 cup of the pasta water to mix with the miso until I was watching the steam rise as I was pouring it down the sink.  Oh well.  This is another one of those things that always happens: If I make a fast-paced meal, like a stirfry, and especially if that meal includes broccoli (for some reason), I will inevitably forget something important and end up slowing myself down as a result.

I had two moments which gave me pause.  The first was the addition of the black beans.  I thought to myself, "how is this going to work?" while glancing at the table I set with chopsticks.  The second moment was when I was whisking the newly heated 1/2 cup of water with the 1/3 cup of miso and noticing how thick the sauce was.  As I poured it over the udon, beans, and greens, I wondered if I was missing something - tamari, oil, something.  I couldn't believe the entire "sauce" was just miso dissolved in water...but it was.  And it was delicious.

And Mister and I both had a pile of beans at the bottom of our bowls, because beans and chopsticks do not match.

baking in the witching hour

Some time over the summer, a friend helped me name my imaginary public access cooking show (which will result in unimaginable fame and wealth, eventually).  Because he couldn't believe how frequently I bake at night (probably 95% of the time), he suggested "Late Night Baking with Natalie K" but I think I prefer the title to this post.

Although I suppose there could be some debate over the exact time of the witching hour, my scones were safely baking as the clock struck midnight, foisting my baking adventures officially into tomorrow. 

Banana Chocolate Chip Scones

Let's build up to the scone/overinflated cookie story, though, shall we?

After a deeply satisfying night of sleep (the first of many, I hope), I wandered, sleepy-eyed and wanting coffee, into my kitchen.  Once I had gathered my wits and looked out the window, I was profoundly disappointed to see not a flake of snow floating gently down from the sky.  There was a light dusting on the street, but not at all what I was expecting.

Never fear, rapt readers - it did not take long for snow to join me in welcoming the day.  Before I poured my second cozy cup, little glittery flakes had begun their descent from the low, grey cloud cover to cold, black pavement.  This continued throughout the day and I watched giddily as the snow began to accumulate on sidewalks, cars, and my husband upon his return from Steve's Steaks, veggie cheesesteak in a brown bag, canister of lemonade mix under his arm.

It seemed fitting that the only item left on my menu (and by default, the only thing I had the ingredients to cook, which is why Mister went out for lunch) was Warm Chickpea Ragout with Swiss Chard, Carrots, and Harissa from Vegetarian Times: Fast and Easy.

The advantage to having such an extensive (and growing) cookbook collection is that I repeat dishes so infrequently that I'm [almost] always as pleasantly surprised as I was the first time I made something.  This was no exception.  The heat of the harissa is just right - it intensifies the flavors of the dish without traumatizing my tastebuds too severely (unless I accidentally inhale an unmixed dot of the stuff...then I choke and my eyes tear and Mister laughs at me... no matter how sick he is). 

I served it over what was left of the Coconut Rice I made with the Jerk Seitan oh-so-long ago.  Between the subtle sweetness of the rice and that which is coaxed out of the tomatoes as they were fire-roasted, the whole dish has a surprising but perfect undercurrent of dulce.  It balances the heat of the harissa and the creaminess of the chickpeas in a way that made me contemplate every single bite I took.  This, surely, is the road to mindful eating.

After dinner, the snow was still going strong, despite my newly kindled internal fire.  Every time I hear a plow or shovel outside, I want to chase away the one who wields it, screaming something insane like, "Leave my snow alone!"

Instead, I occupied myself by making these incredible scones.  VegNews directed me to the recipe and I thought it seemed very much like single-serving banana bread, so I jumped on it.  I was a little worried when I started plunking down the batter - I can't call it dough - it spread a little much for my comfort level.  In the end, they came out looking like huge banana-chocolate-chip cookies.  The texture is somewhere between a nice, soft, right-out-of-the-oven cookie and the top portion of a muffin.  Divine. 

I really shouldn't have another....should I?

testing, testing, 123?

What a day!  I should sleep just fine tonight for all the excitement and running around I did.  Normally, on my lazy Sundays, I'll just kind of eat throughout the day...breakfast, then breakfast snack, then pre-lunch appetizer, and finally lunch, then maybe some lunch dessert a little bit later, and finally dinner...and probably dinner dessert (you really can't have too much dessert - I'm always the one in the dessert buffet holding a dinner plate and trying to look casual about it).  Today, though, I was too busy running all over center city and relishing my city-dwellerness to eat more than two substantial and delicious meals.

Well, okay, I did have a little pre-brunch snack when Mister brought me a doughnut from his early morning (9am on a Sunday is early) venture out to get an egg sandwich and gatorade.  I ate my Christmas doughnut (red and green sprinkles on chocolate frosting!) with my coffee, then got ready for my brunch date.

Lovely Lady and I each got the Tofu Benedict at Mi-Lah Vegetarian.  It's exactly what I got last time, which I really tried not to do - after all, it's not every day I eat somewhere where nothing is off limits.  I contemplated the beer-battered seitan on Belgian waffles, as well as a couple of other options, but really, I couldn't escape my desire for that big pile of kale on the right as well as the sweet potato homefries on the left.  Plus, the english muffin is awesome and the hollandaise sauce is bizarre enough that I was trying to figure out what made it taste like that.

I ate everything on that plate. 

do you know what this is?

it's a close up of this!

 After brunch, Lovely Lady headed over to DiBruno Brothers for some pre-game provisions (she is originally from NYC and an avid Giants fan.  Her husband is an avid Eagles fan.  There is battle in that household when the two teams play...as they did today.) and I headed to the first stop on my afternoon shopping adventures.  A brief tour of center city's shopping hotspots (at least the ones I can nominally afford) included Urban Outfitters, The Shops at Liberty Place (home of the 3-story-tall Christmas tree pictured above), The Shops at the Bellevue (notably, Williams-Sonoma - gift shopping today, but I'm looking forward to returning next week with a purse full of discretionary funds...or a giftcard or two), Borders, Ten Thousand Villages, Starbucks, Wine and Spirits, and a cigar store.  Can you believe I appear to have finished my Christmas shopping?

Christmas/Winter Scene set up in the Bellevue

After depositing my bags of various treasures at home, I set back out to Whole Foods and Superfresh for our weekly food provisions.  I had intended to make a fairly labor-intensive meal for dinner tonight, but I was foiled by the absence of fresh basil, a key component in the dish I had planned to make.  As such, it will unfortunately have to wait until the end of the week now, because I don't see myself wanting to spend hours on dinner much before Thursday.

Besides, I had some chard taking up space in my packed fridge, so I felt the need to use it, which left me two options: a super spicy dish or a dish I thought might go better with my poor Mister's misbehaving belly.  So, tonight's dinner was Farfalle with Shallots and Chard.

I took a picture of the shallots saute-ing because it's never happened before and I didn't know if it would ever happen again

Between onions and shallots, I'll take shallots any day of the week, but that doesn't mean I'm completely comfortable with them.  This recipe involved more shallots than I've ever used in a recipe before and in a much less minced way.  In other words, there was no way I would be able to avoid actually tasting one.

Here are the shallots welcoming the chard into their little party.  While all this sauteing was occurring, Mister's curiosity replaced his nausea and he came into the kitchen, sniffing at the air like a bloodhound and walked directly over to the pot. 

"What IS it?"
"Shallots."
"It smells good. I want to make them eated."

Considering the man was actually externally ill a few hours before, this was promising.  Fortunately, by the time his hunger kicked in and he made his way into the kitchen, I was only about ten minutes away from putting dinner on the table.

It tasted as delightful as it looks.  Due to the length of time the shallots sauteed in the olive oil before I added the chard, the olive oil took on an amazingly buttery taste.  I kept psyching myself out with the shallots because they looked so much like onions.  Every time I took a bite, I thought to myself, "Oh, no, this is going to be the time I taste them!"  And I did...they were a little bit sweet and ever-so-slightly crunchy; they weren't crunchy the way fried things are, but rather like raw jicama, with a similar taste.  Despite my initial reticence, I found myself seeking them out in the bowl to pile on top of the chard and pasta to be shoveled into my mouth.

The shallots did saute with red pepper flakes, but not that many, which was why the heat of the dish surprised me.  Mister, who was having stomach issues, said I had a sissy mouth and that he was fine, so I'm pretty sure it was just my surprise that intensified the heat.  Like heat usually does, it enhanced the other qualities of this recipe.  We will definitely have this again...when the cookbook I tested it for comes out...

time for a revision

One of my go-to and very comprehensive cookbooks, not surprisingly, is the Vegetarian Times Complete Cookbook.  The edition I have was published in 2005 and it is high time they revisited the book and made some additions - namely, Bulgur with Leeks and Swiss Chard which originally appeared in the Oct. 2006 issue of VT magazine.

It really could have been a bit more attractive but there was very little that would have made it taste better.  I have never actually cooked the stems of chard - ordinarily, I cut the leafy bits off of either side and discard the stems (per almost all recipe instructions).  So, it was with some degree of trepidation that I chopped up the center stem of the chard and added it to the pot to saute a while with the leeks.  They actually cook up quite nicely, with a toothsome bite without the crunch I find so irritating in celery.  I substituted one link of Tofurkey Kielbasa for the mushrooms.  In retrospect, I probably could have added two links, but I didn't want to overwhelm the inherent veg-centeredness of this dish by going too heavy on the meat analog.  I was worried that all of the broth would not be absorbed, but it ended up creating a creamy texture akin to what you could imagine a bulgur risotto tasting like.

Continuing my theme of preparing the more veggie-heavy meals earlier in the week (to be absolutely certain all perishables are used before they get gross), tonight I made Mixed Vegetable Masala from the Nov. 2008 issue of VT magazine.

It's pretty and it smelled good (and pungent!), but it really isn't any different from my other curry recipes.  I had high hopes for the sauce, but I have to say, it was nothing special.  I thought it would be a little more flavorful, a little more intense - it involved fire-roasted tomatoes, ginger, garlic, and my food processor.  In the end, it made more of a mess than an impression.

sweet? hot? no, I'm not talking about me

Heeding the advice from the Mel-Gibson-looking WF employee, I traveled alllll the way to The Spice Corner in the Italian Market yesterday on my way back to Whole Foods. There, on the top shelf, almost out of view was the prize I sought. Not just one, but at least a half dozen boxes containing tubes of harissa sat there, neglected, unpurchased. I hopped up and snagged my long-searched-for treasure, picked up a bag of chili powder and headed for the register. The checkout girl was unimpressed when I excitedly told her that they are the only source in all of Philadelphia for this oddball condiment. Granted, I think that's because she didn't have the slightest clue what it was. Regardless, I got me some harissa.

Yesterday, Mister and I made a joint effort to consume as many of the leftovers as gastronomically possible since my generous workplace has been stuffing my face for the past week and a half. I have to suffer through one more day of the Vice President hand-delivering my special veggie lunch before I can return to the usual bliss of bringing my leftover dinner to eat cold or at room temperature because I hate microwaves. I think I can make it...it's been an awful struggle though.

If you don't know I'm kidding, we need to have a conversation about my humor.

Anyway, tonight, we finally had Warm Chickpea Ragout with Chard, Chickpeas, and Harissa. I have to admit, I was feeling more than a little intrepid as I gently squeezed the harissa into the Tablespoon measure, and I will also admit, I was not exactly generous in my portion. Like I mentioned when I shared my menu, I never trust people who say "Oh, it's not that spicy, it's just kind of hot." I'm Irish. Black Pepper is spicy.

Also, I'm not sure what happened, but I swear I bought the fire-roasted tomatoes this recipe uses, but I will be darned if I could find them tonight. I ended up stealing the whole [not fire-roasted] tomatoes intended for another supper, since I have to get Vegetable Broth anyway. Apparently, SuperFresh hates vegetable broth quarts because they are never in stock. Ever. So, when I find a quart of vegetable broth somewhere, I will also have to remember to pick up more whole tomatoes.

I know you're just reading this and are unaware that I just sat here staring at the screen for five minutes, but I feel the need to share that my momentary stupidity is the direct consequence of trying to figure out just exactly what is wrong with the elephants who live upstairs. Moving on...

I stirred, chopped, saute-ed, and simmered for probably a little less than a half an hour. It occurred to me towards the end of the cooking process that I should have prepared some kind of grain to lay this melange upon, but by then all I could think to make was couscous. Thematically, it definitely would have matched, but I just couldn't deal with it, so we ate our dinner carb-less.
That's very unlike us. I kept waiting for Mister to insist we needed bread and raid the fridge, but he didn't. Instead, he teased me about whether dinner was hot enough for me and made repeated comments about how much he liked it.
I liked it, too. To my incredible surprise and delight, the harissa really did add a "sweet heat" to the meal without making it overbearingly spicy. There were a few times towards the end when I found myself reaching for my water more frequently, but it was actually a thoroughly enjoyable meal. It was also one of the first times I have been able to recognize how the spiciness can bring out the other flavors in a dish. I will definitely make this again, which is fortunate, because that is one big-a$$ tube of harissa in my cupboard. (I didn't curse, Mom - those are dollar signs)

Oh! I also managed to convince Angst that the chard was spinach and he ate three pieces!

when the moon hits the sky like a big pizza pie

I have cracked the code. An occurrence (and obstacle) Mister and I have observed over the past 7 years or so is this: If you have a group of people and you have several different kinds of pizza to feed those people, they will always take at least one slice of plain, cheese pizza. I'm pretty sure it's a courtesy or a way of sharing with their fellow pizza-eaters; if they take two pieces of buffalo chicken ranch pizza or hawaiian pineapple ham pizza or seven-meat-meat-lovers' pizza, they somehow do a disservice to someone else who might be similarly interested in that pizza. Also, because people are amused by unusual toppings, if there is [god forbid] a pizza covered with vegetables, it will be the first to disappear.

No one ever thinks about the people who can ONLY eat the plain cheese or weird veggie-topped pizza: vegetarians. So my husband and I find ourselves inevitably warring other pizza-eaters for more than one slice of pizza NOT covered with burnt pieces of animals.

But I have solved the mystery and I'm even more excited about that than I was about discovering an entire pizza that no one wanted but me. Today, to show their great appreciation for us recruiting, hiring, and training over 100 new agents at my workplace, a pizza party was thrown for all trainers, hiring managers, and recruiters. Conveniently, it took place right in the middle of our training day, so by the time my boss and I made it to the party we had to appreciate each other in a dark conference room with cold pizza, alone. Regardless, I had a whole pizza to myself (and no, I didn't eat the whole thing) because apparently no one wants a cheeseless pizza. Perfect! I do!

Tonight's dinner was Pasta with Beans and Chard. When I was shopping, I had the choice between plain old Swiss Chard, Red Chard, and Rainbow Chard.
Guess which one I chose...
It is seriously the coolest green I have ever played with...er...cooked. It was so vibrant and beautiful I couldn't help taking pictures before mutilating it - I knew it wouldn't be as pretty after a brief but wilting saute with garlic and tomatoes.

Once again, Vegan Express to the rescue - the recipe was easy, fast, and absolutely delicious.