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!

speedy vegan?

I was originally going to title the post "Speed Vegan" but I didn't want it to be confused with the cookbook by the same name.  Although I sure would enjoy the SEO hits that may result from such a clever title, I don't want to be the cause of all the disappointment people would feel upon discovering this was not an associated blog.

However, I do want to share with you one of my cookbook gems: Vegetarian Times Fast and Easy.  This is a pretty good book - a lot of recipes are surprisingly tasty.  That truly was not intended to be the backhanded compliment it looks like.  What I mean is that some of the recipes combine bizarre (and sometimes difficult-to-find) ingredients but it always comes out well.  Other recipes you can look at and just know they'll be great.  I enjoy the first kind - I love being surprised by dinner.  This is actually pretty funny, considering what a picky eater I was as a child and how I hated to "try new things."

A few nights ago, I made one of the latter - an old, faithful standby, Tuscan Vegetable Ragout.

It's an incredible melange of crunchy, creamy, squishy, and squeaky.  Squeaky?  Well, yes - haven't you ever noticed how sometimes artichoke hearts make a squeaky sound?  You'll notice now.

Anyway, there are general ingredients - white beans, tomatoes, zucchini, artichoke hearts - which make up the standard Italian cuisine base, wouldn't you say?  Then there are embellishments, just like a good opera. [If I could take a brief detour: through my adolescence, I was trained as a classical vocalist.  One of my favorite things about Italian music was the Aria - the purpose of an aria is to showcase the ethereal voice and undeniable talent of, normally, a soprano.  As luck would have it, that was the part I sang.  The structure of an aria is similar to a canon in instrumental music - you start with a simple theme, but then to "show off" you sing through the exact same tune a second time but with wild - yet tasteful and perfectly articulated - ornamentation.  I am not saying that I fulfilled all the lovely descriptions I just gave of the Diva, but I did adore singing the second round of an aria.]

In Tuscan Vegetable Ragout, the ornaments take the form of cubed smoked tofu, sliced kalamata olives, and occasionally small pasta.  I skipped the pasta this time around because I felt like the menu was already quite noodle-heavy, so I served it on brown basmati instead.

The flavors of the various parts combine into a mouthful that is at once sweet (from the artichokes and tofu) and a bit savory (from the tomato-drenched beans and zucchini) with the satisfying crunch of zucchini combined with the smoothness of creamy cannellini beans.  There is nothing outstanding about this dish other than how perfectly its parts come together to make a whole.

Tonight's dinner, on the other hand, was quite outstanding, flavor-wise.  Tonight I made Singapore-Style Noodles with All That Other Stuff.  I nearly forgot how stirfries worked, which is amusing to me as they were all I did know how to do before I learned to cook.

I have gotten so used to chop-as-you-cook recipes that when I know I'm making a time-saver, I tend to automatically go to that.  You cannot pull of a successful stirfry this way.  No, fortunately, I remembered just in time that you really do need to prep all of the ingredients before you heat the oil.

This required 4 prep bowls, 2 knives, 2 measuring spoons, 2 measuring cups, and 1 whisk to accomplish, but I did pull it off and the result was terrific.  Love at first bite for Mister.

Me?  Well, it bit me.  Does it look tasty?  It totally is.  Does it look spicy?  It definitely is.  Furthermore, it's that sneaky spicy that doesn't hit you at first and then all of a sudden you're like "holy cow, my mouth is on fire!"  This should have been obvious as I was whisking nearly a tablespoon of curry powder and a teaspoon of harissa into the sauce, but it wasn't really.  I'm still stupidly brave about both of those ingredients and continue to forget how much harissa especially likes to kick me in the throat halfway through my meal.

It was absolutely worth it, though - I could only handle one bowl.  Mister had plenty of time to plow enthusiastically through two bowls while making mean jokes about dinner eating me.  He also had a good laugh as I tried to cool my burning tongue and lips by unwrapping the last Li'l Dreamer and pressing it to my tongue, which was sticking out through my lips.

Hey, ya know what?  I may have looked like a doofus, but it worked.  And it was delicious.

garlic + harissa > cilantro

About two years ago, I got into a bunch of blogs.  I'd never really explored the blogosphere and honestly, I can't tell you what made me reach out two years ago, but I can tell you what has kept me here.  There are blogs I read because I like the wit, there are some I love for the pictures, and yet others for the scathing sarcasm or descriptive eloquence.  I love words and I love looking at things of beauty.  I've also discovered I have quite a taste for what foodies/food bloggers call "food porn."  You want to know what really hooked me, though?

The recipes. 

I'm sure you kind of expected that since I'm kind of a recipe-hoarder, but it's true.  Especially in the beginning, if a blog I was following went too long without a recipe I found attractive, I usually lost interest in the blog.  Inspired by two things, I started my own blog.  One of those two things, if you're wondering, was my lofty aspirations of honing my skills in writing and recipe-creation so I could realize my dreams of becoming a successful cookbook author or maybe the next superstar chef just waiting to be discovered and put on display on the Oprah Show.  The other was that I enjoyed reading Isa's recipe intros as much as I enjoyed the recipes themselves.  I recognized that her humor closely mirrors my own and that our writing style is similar.  I thought to myself, "even if my recipes suck, at least I can write in a way that is entertaining enough to keep people reading until my recipes don't suck." 

I hope I'm right.

I also hope my recipes don't suck.

Anyway, as my little blog evolved and branched out a bit, I found that I don't get inspired to write recipes nearly as often as I have some amusing/traumatic/enlightening experiences in the kitchen, so I hope you'll find tonight's tale of discovery as amusing as last night's exploding tofu.

Tonight I made Potato and Cauliflower Burritos from the June 2011 Vegetarian Times magazine.  The assembled burrito pictures did not come out at all.  That's another thing I've enjoyed the last two years - the incredible progress I've made in my ability to take pictures of stuff that not only don't look awful, but actually make the subject look appealing (most of the time).  In addition to tasting really good, these burritos helped me to expand my learning into another dimension.

As you may have noticed, I rarely repeat recipes.  I realize this is not completely normal, but there are so many neat recipes out there, I want to try them all.  I've also turned every vacation into an opportunity to go to as many strange restaurants as possible and truly savor every meal I eat while away from home - whether I'm down the street at Horizons or on the other side of the country, testing out the San Fran Veg Scene (as I will be in July - yay!).  When I was flipping through the latest Veg. Times, I came across this recipe and immediately thought it would be fun to make and that Mister would love it.  I was right on both counts.  I think it could have been a little spicier, but I didn't follow the directions 100% (that's becoming a theme, actually) and instead of using a chipotle chili in adobo sauce, I squirted what I thought to be a healthy dose of harissa into the sauce.  I think it would have had the desired effect if I had squirted twice as much, so I'll keep that in mind for next time.

So, with the potatoes and cauliflower simmering away with what I had hoped would be a spicy red curry sauce, I grabbed my bag of cilantro from the fridge and started gathering leaves for chopping.  Then, I smelled it.

I'm not exactly sure how to describe "it," but here are some adjectives that seem to apply: strong, pungent, musty, green(ish), stinky.  I wish I had some $5 words to use here, but I'm still using that part of my brain to figure out if that's what fresh cilantro is supposed to smell like while simultaneously reaching an understanding of why so many [white] people can't stand this herb.  Part of me hopes I got a bum bunch while another part of me really doesn't want to contract some kind of Mexican supervirus 36 hours before my brother-in-law's wedding.

Why does cilantro smell so bad???  It doesn't smell that bad when it's dried and it doesn't smell bad at all when it manifests itself as ground coriander.  Did I get a bunch of half-rotten stalks or is that extraordinarily pungent scent supposed to accompany the bouquet in my fridge?

The Happily-Ever-After end of my story, though, is that dinner was really good - the flavors and textures worked together beautifully.  I increased the final garlic count from 2 cloves to about 5 and I decreased the prescribed cilantro from 3 Tbsp to 1, but the mixture was well balanced and tasty.  Mister and I each wolfed down two burritos (which would probably [rightly] be called dosas in another culture with better spices) and I can see this easy-to-prepare, fast-cooking meal becoming as regular in our "rotation" as any recipe is likely to become.

homemade harissa with a chance of showers

Since I failed to say a single thing about dinner last night, why don't we pick up there and then wade through the shower?  I was too in love with the gala to talk about our sunny, tropical dinner (on a darn cold night, too) - I still haven't completely come down, but I haven't seen the ballet in nearly 5 years and it's probably been about that long since I've seen the orchestra, too, so let me live on my cloud a little longer.

Anyway, I made Rice Island Casserole from Vegan on the Cheap last night.

I feel like it's a little more colorful this time, but maybe that's my heightened senses, peering desperately for one more glimpse of the tangerine dream lingering from the gala.  In any case, it appears that our moving, in granting a new and different stove, has cured my inability to cook brown rice.  I haven't had trouble yet, although I am still cautiously optimistic and not quite foolhardy enough to cook it any other way than alone in water or broth.

I've determined that for now, at least, any "casserole" that involves cooking rice in the oven will magically transform (like a pumpkin into a beautiful horse-drawn carriage) into a stovetop skillet supper.  I do not completely trust the oven yet, so there will be no baking of rice unless it's already been cooked completely on the stovetop first.

Nevertheless, this is such a good dinner.  The combination of sweet (pineapple) and salty (tamari) keeps your tastebuds alert while you taste the different textures of creamy, soft kidney beans against toothsome brown basmati and coconut.

I did do one thing differently, which was fun: I had a shallot left over from the other night, so in place of the green onions, I chopped that up.  It offered a surprising crunch against all the other textures and definitely enhanced the already heavenly scents wafting from my kitchen.

Tonight, then, I cooked the final dinner on our menu, Curried Chickpeas and Greens from Appetite for Reduction. 

We hadn't had this yet, at least in part because it takes a loooong time to "finely chop" two pounds of kale.  Kale is not heavy, so two pounds is a whole lot of kale.

I almost titled this post "the little saute pan that could" because my saute pan has a Napolean Complex.  This actually works out quite well for me, as I routinely push the limits of exactly how much food I can fit in my 3-qt pan.  The recipe instructed me to use a 4-qt pan.  My choices are 3qts or 12qts, so I decided to push my luck.

The finished product was incredibly flavorful.  The beginning of the recipe (the part after taking about 30 minutes to chop kale) had me sauteing garlic and ginger with red pepper flakes in oil.  I have decided I need a ginger press.  Do such things exist?  If so, I must have one because mincing ginger sucks, no matter how awesome your new knives may be.

Anyway, after letting the garlic and ginger soften a little, I added about 12 oz crushed tomatoes and stirred it all up.  Through the next few minutes, I added a few more spices, including my dearly beloved McCormick Garam Masala.  As I stirred everything together and the liquid from the tomatoes began to evaporate, I realized that I seemed to be making my very own harissa.  Within a few bites of dinner, I was pretty sure that's exactly what I did.  The rice came in pretty handy.

~*~~*~~*~~*~

Today was a gorgeous Spring day.  It could have been a little warmer (me and my winter-fat will be happy to kiss Stocking Season goodbye), but it was sunny and relatively mild and I wore my new peep-toe pumps to a cousin's bridal shower.  I zoomed up there in a shared car, pumping P!nk through the speakers and shamelessly singing along, enjoying the glint of my bracelet in the sunlight and taking my time getting there.  

Although I still maintain I had the best bridal shower ever (my mom and sister really did a killer job), this was a pretty good one - the food was fabulous, especially the dessert spread, and it was a surprise for the bride, which is always fun.  Shall we finish the night with a picture parade?

pretty lace parasol, hung upside down from the ceiling

sister of the bride and aunt

gorgeous bright pink roses

Apparently, Cousin wanted her wedding color to be pink, but her sister (pictured above) refused to wear a pink dress, so instead, it'll be orange.

totally surprised!

I love these napkins!

Pretty Ribbon Princess!  Cousin was unaware of the old wives' tale about breaking ribbons at your shower.  Since she already has a son and a daughter, I thought I'd save her some future pain and tell her before she broke her way to twins (they do run in the family)!

Now for the real fun.   Not only were the desserts delicious (and plentiful!), they were works of art - It's been awhile since I've seen desserts this beautiful.

HUGE chocolate and vanilla cupcakes with sugared, colored marshmallows to resemble flowers

chocolate and vanilla petits-fours and chocolate covered almonds

I'm actually not sure, but aren't they pretty?

the "stems" of the flowers are green twizzlers.
my nephews happily ate them up so the women could focus on chocolate

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!

baby, posh, ginger, scary, sporty, and SNEAKY spice?

I guess harissa is not so much a spice as it is a paste made of a spice blend and other flavor-contributors.  Nevertheless, it has a heat that sneaks up on you and suddenly, out of "nowhere," kicks you in the throat.

I know, I'll wait while you all run out to find this magical condiment.  I know, it's too tempting to resist with a review like that.  It might take you a while to find it, though.

Tonight, I made Cauliflower-Chickpea Tagine from The Urban Vegan.  Funny story.  I made this because Mister wasn't feeling terribly hungry, which I thought gave me a little liberty to spend more time making dinner.  If I knew he had something to do, I would have made my other quick-cooking dinner.  In fact, I almost did, but I though Mister would enjoy the tagine.  I hadn't even added the cauliflower to the simmering carrots, tomatoes, and garlic when Mister came in and started to set up the table. 

Anyway, the end of the story is that I did my best to speed-simmer and help the rice finish absorbing all the water, while Mister stalled his plans a little so we could have at least a little time for dinner.  I got a few bites into my bowl and felt justified in my initial reaction to the recipe's prescribed half-teaspoon of harissa: entirely too little.  I got about halfway through my dinner thinking that next time I would add a whole teaspoon (even though the 1/2 teaspoon was definitely heaping).  All of a sudden, I got a swift kick to the back of my throat and realized I had completely underestimated that building heat of harissa.  I took a short water and olive break and then got back to my tagine, recognizing that it was actually sneaky spicy and it would get me again if I wasn't vigilant.

Overall, it was a very good tagine.  Although the recipe suggests salting to taste at the end of the cooking process, I did not find salt necessary at all - the spices and vegetable broth did quite a good job of flavoring the dish without added salt.  I enjoyed the kick of harissa, and despite its assault on my esophagus, I probably will increase the amount in the future.  All that said, there was nothing terribly outstanding about this tagine - nothing that made it stand apart from a dozen other Moroccan-inspired recipes I have.  Perhaps with some tweaking it could turn into something a little more memorable, but not every dinner has to be life-changing, so maybe I'll just let it go.

Speaking of letting go, the poor cat continues to be plagued by his tail.  Damn thing follows him everywhere, taunting, haunting, just waiting for the chance to be seen and chased.  It followed him all the way from the old apartment and won't even give him a moment's peace to relax on the couch.

Fortunately, it's an exceptionally long tail, which makes it pretty easy to get a hold of.  As long as he doesn't let go, he should be able to get some sleep tonight...

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?

harissa: the ultimate in snow removal

Okay, harissa may not be quite hot enough to melt the snow piled all over the sidewalks, street corners, and parking spots in my neighborhood, but it can make me sweat when it's only 20 degrees outside! I read somewhere that in North Africa (not exactly a cold climate), locals employ harissa the way Americans [over]use ketchup. It took me years to put ketchup on my fries, much to Mister's confusion and horror. I cannot even fathom dipping fries or vegetables or ANYTHING in a little pot of harissa - bad things happened when it didn't blend all the way into the broth tonight and I ended up with a significant amount in my mouth. Significant = Barely Visible Speck.

Anyway, let's back up to last night. After a snowy, frosty weekend and a slippery trek to my car, I managed to make it to work yesterday. It wasn't until I was putting a present for Angst (also known as food) in the backseat that I noticed the new beauty mark on my car. Remember how I was worried about the Dueling Backhoes crashing into my car or otherwise harming it? I'm trying to think of the perfect thank you gift for the City of Philadelphia right now - what's the best way to express this sentiment? "thank you for finally clearing the streets in my neighborhood. It's much easier to navigate my car through the half-plowed icy death since you helped me lighten it. I never realized how much the paint on the left side of my car weighed it down until you helped me get rid of it. Here's some flowers." Yes, the Abominable Snow Removers left me a scar in the form of a scratch from the middle of my back driver's side door, across my gas cap, up to my brake light, and it's all the way to the metal - no paint left at all. In fact, it's even indented.

So, I celebrated my great fortune by making The Mariners' Pepperpot Soup. It involved a great deal of chopping, which always helps when you are speechless with excitement about the new detail work on your car. It's a fun soup to make, although I always panic that it doesn't look chunky enough to satisfy Mister. It's fine, though, because what I can't see is that all the rice and a great many of the vegetables are hovering just below the shiny, spiced surface of the broth. It made for some fun picture-taking, though:
When I made the Chickpea Apple Curry the other night, I made extra rice and scooped out one cup to add to this soup. It held the shape of the measuring cup and when I added it to the pot, it just plopped into the center. I found the Rice Meatball pretty funny, so I snapped a picture.

look at how excited Angst is for pepper soup!

not really.

a rainbow of savory goodness

Keeping with my trend of alternating soup dinners with solid food, tonight I made Winter Vegetable Curry despite my strong desire to avoid chopping the head of cauliflower in my fridge. It had to happen sooner or later, though, so tonight was the night. Besides, in an obvious attempt to steal my affections from my husband, Old Man Winter is sending me another Imminent Death Snowstorm tomorrow night. According to The National Weather Service, we're expecting another 10-18 inches between tomorrow afternoon and then throughout the day Wednesday. Sounds like perfect weather for our final soup dinner!
I think it has actually been since last winter that I've made this tasty little curry. It is so good I spent at least half the time I was eating it thinking "you stupid - why don't you make this more often?" Then I remember how much it sucks to chop the whole head of cauliflower. There has to be an easier way to do this that I just don't know. If anyone out there has any ideas, I would love for you to leave me a comment with detailed instructions!
I've been intending to add harissa to about half of the dinners I made this past week, so I'm quite pleased that I actually remembered to stir it in to replace some of the curry paste in this recipe. The recipe calls for 3 Tablespoons of curry paste and 3 Tablespoons of mango chutney. I have discovered that neither Mister nor myself are big fans of mango chutney, so I substituted apricot preserves and that added a nice, surprising sweet bite here and there. In place of the curry paste, I did 2 heaping teaspoons of my now-beloved Frontier brand curry powder and 1 conservative Tablespoon of harissa. It was much hotter than it has been with just the curry powder (I'll admit, I'm a little afraid of curry paste), especially when I got an unmixed chunk of it in my mouth by way of a caulifloret.

The recipe, by Rachael Ray, is one of her [few] vegetarian 30-minute meals and once you've made a mess of the cauliflower...well, chopped it, it comes together very quickly. I'd say there's a total cooking time of almost 20 minutes. I cannot recommend this recipe enough - it tastes great, it's relatively easy to assemble, especially if you cheat and use frozen cauliflower or pre-cut cauliflower. If you go the pre-cut route, be sure to use the cauliflower the same day you buy it or buy it the day you intend to use it - it doesn't keep well. Happy chopping!

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!

neither before nor after

On the ride home from work tonight, I spent some time thinking about which of the three dinners left on my menu I would make. I knew I really ought to make the Chickpea-Chard-Harissa dish since I don't know how much longer the chard will hang on, but unfortunately, none of the four stores I visited on my last day off had harissa in stock - in fact one of the smaller-but-fruitier stores didn't even know what I was talking about! I figure it's probably important to include that ingredient since it's part of the title, so I decided to refrain from making it until I can get my hands on some harissa.

I decided to make Potato and Cauliflower Curry (aka Aloo Gobi) because it's one of Mister's favorites and because I was just telling a new employee at work how I don't think I could live without curries. This was in the context of trying to prevent a new customer from getting lamb or curry spice in her order, since she was apparently severely allergic.

Anyway, I have never made this particular Aloo Gobi recipe because I think I might have at least half a dozen other recipes for it that work just fine. However, I was too lazy to cook from more than one book this week, so I decided to give this never-before-tried recipe a try. If I had read the recipe a little closer, I might have used my big, deep pot rather than overflowing my saute pan. By the way - I am definitely going to have to replace/augment the saute pan situation. Must have 5 quarts in a future life. It made a lot.

I really can't tell how I feel about the combination of fresh ginger and a tomato sauce/broth. On the one hand, it had the most fascinating aroma, but on the other hand, the antiseptic qualities of ginger really brought out the acidity of the tomatoes and not in a good way. Since I was a child, my way to make things taste better has been to add salt, but I don't think that would have helped. It wasn't bad - don't get me wrong - but I don't think I will make this particular recipe again, when I have so many other recipes that I adore. It looked nice, though:
It is so cold in Philadelphia. I think soup is inevitable on next week's menu.