Martha, Martha, Martha!

Do you feel like Jan just developed a lithp?

Have you ever noticed the subtle (or maybe not so subtle) kind of rivalry that exists between neighboring states?  Our schools are better, their cities have more crime, and have you ever seen those people drive??  I suppose it could be some instinctual and subconscious home pride that causes us to look down on our neighbors.  It could be that we are so accustomed to the way we drive that someone who drives differently is seen as a bad driver.  It could be that in our deepest heart, we know there's nothing more special about the place we call home (especially if living there wasn't an active choice) and have to specifically focus on why we're so lucky to live here instead of there.

That said, there are two things I know:

1. "Northern" magazines don't harp on living north of the Mason-Dixon line.  Don't get me wrong - I love my southern kin and indeed, the South itself, but something you cannot miss if you read Southern Living (and I do) is the insertion of that identifying adjective whenever remotely possible.
2. People from New Jersey cannot drive.  There.  I said it.  Like a good little Philadelphian pedestrian.  Deny it all you want, point back to my opening paragraph, but none of that changes the fact that every time I nearly get hit by a car while crossing in a crosswalk with the right of way, it is a car with a front-facing NJ license plate that tries to be my undoing.

I wasn't actually exposed to the "rivalry" between Pennsylvania and New Jersey until I reached college and met a bunch of people who were inordinately proud of coming from New Jersey.  When people are that "yeah, I'm from Jersey, it's the best thing ever, what're you gonna do about it?" it's easy to see why the people who are on their home turf (I went to school in Pennsy) feel the need to defend how awesome our state is and how lucky they are we let them cross the bridge (after all, you need to pay $3 just to escape from that state.... but not a penny to enter it).

Imagine my surprise that one of my domestic goddesses, someone who guided almost every step of my wedding preparation, and someone I love to hate (because I really love) and taught me a great deal about color combinations as well as complementary flavors, hails from New Jersey.  Martha dear, say it ain't so!

Years ago, when I was still figuring out how to turn on my stove and hadn't quite perfected the art of dicing a zucchini, I came across a recipe destined to become a favorite.  The first time I made Martha's Mediterranean Pasta was also the first time it ever occurred to me to eat artichoke hearts a) on purpose and b) on pasta.  I remember being pleasantly shocked by the way the cherry tomatoes and basil brought out a sweetness I had never noticed before, while the briny kalamata olives were the contrasting color (literally and metaphorically).

So, thank you, Martha, for inspiring tonight's dinner.  I can forgive you for being born in New Jersey.  After all, you did not choose where to be born any more than Mister had a choice in where his family lived throughout his formative adolescence (and yes, I knew that before I married him and consoled myself by telling myself he'd lived in Pennsylvania longer than he'd lived in New Jersey, therefore, he was not from New Jersey).

Pasta with Artichokes and Zucchini

4 servings

2 Tbsp olive oil

2-4 Tbsp vegetable broth

4-5 cloves garlic, pressed

1 tsp salt

black pepper, to taste

1/2 tsp dried organic basil

12 oz penne rigati (or similar length and shape of pasta)

14 oz artichoke hearts, chopped

1 medium zucchini, quartered and sliced thinly

4 large Roma tomatoes, diced

Cook pasta according to package directions.  If you start heating the water to a boil while you are preparing the sauce, you should be adding the pasta right before you add the tomatoes.

Heat the oil in a large skillet on medium-low and saute the garlic for about a minute.  Add the chopped artichoke hearts and stir well to coat with oil and garlic.  Cook 4-5 minutes, stirring occasionally so the garlic doesn't burn.

Add the zucchini and tomatoes; stir to combine.  Sprinkle on salt, pepper, and basil, then add 2 Tbsp vegetable broth and stir well.  Turn up the heat slightly and cook 8-10 minutes, stirring occasionally.  If necessary, add more broth.

Drain pasta and then add to the vegetable mixture and mix well.  Cook for about 1 minute, then turn off heat and continue to toss pasta with vegetables until everything is well-combined.

Enjoy!  

PS. Rienzi pasta was on sale and it is really worth it even when it's not - the difference in al dente between store brand and Rienzi (or Barilla, for that matter) is notable.

pepperpot weather

The weather forecast said there was a chance for snow on Christmas Eve.  The weather map showed a contradicting and disheartening green over Philadelphia, indicating that we would have to make due with rain for Christmas.  I still spend every December hoping for a white Christmas, even though I can count the number we've had on one hand, so imagine my delight when I looked outside around 5pm on Christmas Eve and saw fluffy white flakes of real snow falling steadily from the sky!

It snowed but didn't stick, which was fine.  I was happy to see some snow on the actual ground when we made our journey an hour outside of the city to spend Christmas Day at my parents' house.

Today it was dark and gloomy and freezing cold with a bit of happy white snow in the morning that lasted about 10 minutes before turning into big globs of miserable cold rain.  In my little isolated world that unemployment creates, this was the perfect way to spend the day after Christmas, but I'm sure everyone who had to travel to work disagreed with me.  Mister and I drank plenty of warm coffee and stayed cozy while trying to be at least somewhat productive, but eventually, the chill invaded our home and my bones.

I hid in the bed for about 15 minutes before Mister found me... and decided to hide with me.  We enjoyed our warm little cave a little longer than we intended because warm + cozy = accidental nap.  Once we forced each other out of that dangerous nest, I decided dinner was probably a good idea.  I was totally fixated on making a pepperpot.

I wanted something rich and hearty, something that needed time to cook, because it was just a slow-cooking kind of day.  I have a recipe for a pepperpot stew, but I wanted something with texture, something that we could really sink our teeth into, something that felt warm and nourishing.  Coincidentally, it turns out pepperpot is a Christmas food, entirely because it does require a good amount of time to cook correctly.

Post-Christmas PepperPot
about 5 servings

2 Tbsp olive oil
14 oz extra-firm tofu, cubed
1 tsp salt + a sprinkle
1 tsp smoked paprika + a sprinkle
black pepper, to taste
1 Tbsp vegan worcestershire sauce
4 cloves garlic, finely chopped
2 stalks celery, thinly sliced
1 large carrot, thinly sliced
1 red bell pepper, chopped
1 green bell pepper, chopped
15 oz petite diced tomatoes, undrained
cooked rice to serve (I used Basmati)

First, drain the tofu and gently squeeze out as much water as you can with your hands.  Don't worry - you won't get it all, you just don't want it dripping all over your cutting board.  Once you've squeezed "enough" water from the tofu, cube it and lay it over 3-4 paper towels to drain a bit while you wash your veggies and peel your garlic.

Make no mistake, I very specifically had my mind set on making something with tofu tonight.  As a quick aside, for the past year that I've been enjoying my All-Clad cookware, one thing only has marred my delight; trying to cook tofu in stainless cookware is kind of like supergluing a little green army figurine to your bathtub and then trying to push him loose with your Daisy razor... not happening.  So I've been cooking my tofu in my old Cuisinart nonstick saute pan and transferring it to the other food once there's enough liquid in the pan to prevent an adhesive reaction.  Not the end of the world, but it's just another [unnecessary] pan to wash.  Enter my Christmas present: a nonstick 4-qt All-Clad saute pan.

Anyway, once all your veggies are ready to be chopped, heat the oil in whatever pan makes you happy (but it should hold at least 4 quarts) on medium-low heat.  It's ready when you plop a cube of tofu into the oil and it sizzles.  Add all the tofu and make sure it is in one layer, give the pan a little shake to make sure the oil is evenly distributed, then cover and cook undisturbed for about 5 minutes.

After 5 minutes, stir the tofu so the cooked side is showing (which means an uncooked side is now facing down in the pan), give it a minute, then sprinkle a little bit of salt and a little bit of paprika over the tofu and mix well, until evenly coated with seasoning.

Stir in the celery and garlic, cover and cook for another 5-7 minutes, stirring frequently to avoid burning.

Stir in carrots and both bell peppers, cover and cook for 3-5 minutes, then stir in the tomatoes, teaspoons of salt and paprika, as well as your preference of black pepper, and the worcestershire sauce. Stir very well to ensure the seasonings have coated everything in the pot.

Cover the pot and reduce the heat to low.  Set your kitchen timer (or whatever far more technologically advanced device you may have) for 25 minutes.  If you're using white Basmati or Jasmine rice, now is the perfect time to cook it.  This way your pepperpot and your rice will be ready simultaneously.

It was so good.  It was exactly what I wanted it to taste like.  Honestly, I could have happily just eaten the tofu and given Mister the veggies (though they were also very good) because the seasoned juices from the peppers and tomatoes perfectly braised the tofu to exactly the flavor and texture I was craving. This is a great wintertime meal and I hope you make it and enjoy it and remind yourself that you can always go back and have more later (no need to continue the holiday habit of stuffing oneself until bursting!).

imaginary chili

I never ate chili until I stopped eating animals.

To be honest, I'm not sure I've ever eaten chili I didn't make.  Fortunately, there is no shortage of vegan chili recipes - I'm pretty sure I have over 20 among my various cookbooks and I've made at least half of them.  Our reigning favorite continues to be a Sarah Kramer recipe, which isn't surprising considering her husband approaches recipe taste-testing with trepidation, telling her that he gets nervous because he thinks she got it right the first time and will never make a better recipe than her original.

Mister has no problem favoring one of her later chili recipes... or her Shepherd's Pie recipe.... or one of the few recipes where he will actually isolate the spice-coated tofu and eat it without other things to distract him.  Let's just say Sarah's a favorite around here.

Nevertheless, in the spirit of my newfound poverty and desire to use all the extra time I just got in place of a paycheck, I have created my first (and possibly last) chili recipe.  It was fine, but I just couldn't be confident about it with so many great recipes jeering from the cookbook shelf, waiting for me to fail.  Mister supported my effort, encouraging me when I said I was just going to put a bunch of stuff in a pot and see what happened, saying "That's how chili works!"

Mister liked it at least enough for 2 bowls, so my made-up-as-I-went-along chili couldn't have been bad!

Imaginary Chili
6 servings

2 Tbsp olive oil
2 large cloves garlic, pressed/minced
2 Tbsp chili powder
1 generous tsp salt
1 tsp smoked paprika
1/2 tsp red wine vinegar
2 small green bell peppers, diced
3-4 small carrots, sliced
1 small zucchini, quartered lengthwise and sliced
1 1/2 cups corn
15 oz beans (I used pinto, you could use black beans if you wanted)
1 and 1/2 Tofurky Italian Sausages, quartered lengthwise and sliced.  Or dice them, whatever.
28 oz diced tomatoes
12 oz crushed tomatoes

Heat the olive oil over medium-low, then add green peppers and garlic.  Stir well and allow to saute for about 10 minutes - lower the heat to low if necessary to prevent burning and stir occasionally.  While the peppers and garlic saute, slice your carrots and zucchini and measure out your corn.  If you have some leftover time, you could even rinse your beans!

After 10 minutes, add carrots and zucchini, stir well and cover.  Saute 5-7 minutes until you can see the zucchini beginning to "wilt."  Sprinkle on the chili powder, salt, and paprika, then stir well so that all of the vegetables are coated.  Add the diced and crushed tomatoes, beans, corn, and tofurky sausage.  Stir very well to ensure everything is mixed up, including distributing the spices, then cover.

Allow chili to simmer covered for 10 minutes, stirring once or twice.  Sprinkle in the vinegar, stir again, then cover again, lower the heat to the lowest setting and allow to simmer another 10-15 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Serve with cornbread or tortilla chips.  Enjoy!

winter garden

After a short trip to Georgia (the US state, not the country - you have no idea how many people think, nay swear, that I am of Eastern European descent.  If I am, it's news to me!) where I wandered about with my jacket open carelessly to the spring-like weather, I am back in Philadelphia and it is growing cold.  We had our few nice days, too, as I apparently brought some of the warm back with me (or, you know, the jet stream or some other meteorological explanation), and there may be a few nice days left, but don't deceive yourself - it's December.

Would it be easier to put up my Christmas tree and start decorating for the few weeks we have left this holiday season if it was cold and snowy?  Yes, of course.  I'm still holding out hope for a white Christmas and Mister and I have mint cocoa and some peppermint oreo-type cookies leapt off the shelf and landed safely in my basket at Whole Foods today.  Nevertheless, there was time for one more "spring cling" in our made-up menu.

Although a part of me aches for my neatly planned menu and my well-organized grocery lists, I am actually enjoying this different way of shopping; haphazardly selecting things to cover our basic nutritional needs and then hoping everything can play nice in the sauteuse.  I had grown quite weary of my cookbooks and needed to get myself out of a MadeThisAMillionTimes rut.  It's nice to have "safe" recipes you can come back to, where you can locate the right page in the cookbook by the proximity of splatters and spills, where you can nearly make the recipe from memory but just need a few crib notes and stolen glances at the book.  This little bird was ready to stumble out of that safe nest and the lifestyle/financial change was the nudge I needed.

Green Garden Paella
4-6 servings as a main course

2-3 Tbsp olive oil
3 large cloves of garlic, pressed or minced
3 stalks of celery, sliced thinly
1 large(ish) green bell pepper, 1-2" long thin slices
1 medium zucchini, diced
1 cup basmati (or jasmine) rice
3 cups vegetable broth (or 3 cups water + 1 Rapunzel bouillon cube)
1/2 tsp kosher salt
1 tsp dried thyme
1 tsp dried and lightly crushed tarragon
4 oz smoked tofu, cubed (small)
10 kalamata olives, sliced lengthwise into quarters or sixths (depending on the size of the olives)

Heat the oil in a large saute pan (4-qt) over medium-low heat.  Add celery and garlic and stir well to combine and coat with oil.

Cover the pan and reduce heat to low.  Cook, stirring frequently to prevent burning, for about 10 minutes.  You can be slicing the pepper during this time.  Once the celery is tender, stir in the green pepper.

Replace lid and cook for about 5 more minutes, stirring once or twice.  Dice the zucchini.  When you're ready to add the zucchini, remove the lid from the pan and push the pepper and celery out to the sides of the pan, creating an empty space in the middle.  Within a moment, this space should be invaded by the oil and accumulated cooking liquid.  Once this occurs, add the zucchini in this space and sprinkle with the salt.  Do not stir.

Cover and turn heat up slightly.  You should hear evidence of slightly higher heat in the sizzling sound your food is making.  Allow the zucchini to steam-saute for about 1-2 minutes, then lift the lid, sprinkle on the thyme and tarragon and stir everything together.  Shake the rice over the vegetables, then pour in the broth and stir.  Raise heat to medium to encourage boiling and the minute it comes to a full boil, reduce heat to the lowest setting and cover.

Cook the paella, covered and without stirring, for 15-17 minutes.  You can check your facebook, read emails, peruse your new issue of Southern Living (it's the Christmas copy!), whatever.  What you should be doing, though, is dicing the tofu and slicing the olives.  Once they're all set, you can resume wasting your time however you please.  When the 15-17 minutes have passed, take the lid off your paella and put it somewhere out of the way - you won't be needing it anymore (until it's time to do the dishes).

Add your tofu and olives, then stir everything together.  There should still be a noticeable amount of broth to be absorbed.

Leave the pot uncovered and the heat on the lowest setting and let your paella simmer for 10-15 more minutes, stirring from time to time.  When nearly all of the broth has been absorbed, spoon into bowls and serve.

Enjoy!

fun with homemade seitan

So, in my continuing quest to be frugal and use what I have resourcefully, I made seitan on Sunday and since I had everything I needed for this recipe, it didn't cost me a penny, much less the 459 of them I would have spent at Whole Foods.

Okay, that's kind of a lie.  Not the price - that's true - but the motivation for making seitan.

Going back a week.... Now that we're hosting Thanksgiving, my precious Mister gets to have his long-awaited Tofurky Roast.  We started that "tradition" last year and continued it this year.  The night before Thanksgiving, however, we celebrate with his father and that whole side of the family.  Throughout some conversations, I heard Mister answer someone inquiring about the taste of Tofurky this way: "Well, it's better than the worst turkey you've ever had, but not as good as good turkey."

Silly me, I took this, added it to the fact that Mister only had one slice the following night at our Thanksgiving, and came to the seemingly rational conclusion that Mister didn't like Tofurky so much as he felt like Thanksgiving required it and he just kind of muddled through it for that reason.  So, the day after Thanksgiving, as I was giving thanks for not having to work on Black Friday (see? unemployment is fun!), I decided to eat the leftover Tofurky, gravy, and potatoes.  Do you see where this is going?

So, later that night, Mister went rummaging through the fridge for way longer than usual.  Finally, I asked him what he was looking for.  He said "The leftover Tofurky," and I felt that little twinge of guilt and then said "Oh.  I ate it."  Crestfallen, poor Mister looked for something else to eat, even though he'd apparently "been looking forward to it alllllll day."

Bad wife.  Someday I'll learn.

Anyway, Mister has mentioned in the past that the homemade seitan [loaf] I make is seasoned in such a way that it tastes like lamb, the other thing my sweet Greek misses about eating animals.  To make up for being selfish and thick-headed, I spent Sunday making seitan, which I then sliced and served as filet with Broccoli Chickpea Casserole from Vegan with a Vengeance.

Last night, I wanted to use up what was left of the seitan, so I created a delightful little mediterranean ragout, based roughly on a new recipe in Vegetarian Times by Nava Atlas.

I should say the resulting dinner was "loosely inspired" by the recipe in this month's VT.  In the end I think the only similarity was the 2 Tbsp olive oil and 3 shallots (which were not small).

I don't really have a name for it... I guess you could call it

Broccoli and Seitan Stew (as in, the kind of stew you serve over rice or mashed potatoes)
4-6 servings

2 Tbsp olive oil
4-6 cloves garlic, pressed or minced
3 large shallots, sliced
1/2 to 3/4 cup vegetable broth
1/2 tsp sea salt
1/4 tsp black pepper
4 cups broccoli florets
15 oz petite diced tomatoes, undrained
about 2 cups cubed seitan

Heat the oil in a large saute pan (4-qts) over medium-low heat.  When oil begins to shimmer, add shallots and garlic and stir well to coat.  Reduce heat to low; Cover and stir occasionally for about 7-10 minutes.  About halfway through, you may find the garlic is sticking and/or browning more than you'd like.  If so, add a splash of broth to deglaze the pan and add some liquid.  By the time you add the broccoli, the shallots should be browning slightly and very soft.

Add broccoli, sprinkle salt and pepper over the broccoli, then pour in half of the remaining broth and cover.  Turn up heat slightly and allow the broccoli to steam for about 5 minutes undisturbed, then lift the lid and stir to combine broccoli and shallots.  Stir in tomatoes, then add the cubed seitan and the remaining broth.  Stir well and cook for about 10 more minutes, uncovered, until everything is tender and smells amazing.

Serve over an aromatic rice (I used Jasmine) or mashed potatoes if you're lucky (and your spouse didn't eat them all...).

been a long time comin'

Hello Friends!  It's been a while, eh?

By way of a very short explanation for my sporadic posts, a few of which had absolutely nothing to do with food, and my months-long absence from any kind of posts, I will just say that life has changed a good bit this year, and sometime in the late winter, early spring, I decided that I didn't have anything interesting to say about food anymore.  I was repeating recipes and/or not cooking due to an awkward schedule and I just couldn't think of anything worth saying about stuff I'd made dozens of times before.

Sorry about that, but let's get back to it, shall we?

A couple of weeks ago, I lost my job.  It's cool, don't worry - I feel much better, actually.  It was incredibly more stressful than it needed to be and although I felt good about the things I was able to accomplish in my relatively short time there, my professional development was being strangled.  So, aside from that "money thing," I've decided to consider my newly acquired LotsaTime a blessing.

Back to that whole "money thing" for a minute, though.

If you look back over older posts in this blog, you'll see a few times when our financial situation changed and we had to readjust our budget/financial paradigm.  I'm a naturally frugal person anyway and gain great satisfaction from seeing the little "You saved $___.__ today!" that prints out at the bottom of my SuperFresh receipt after I painstakingly examined the 3 different brands of Navy Beans to find the one that would save a bit of money.  Maybe not the best example, but when I can pay $3.59 for 28 oz of organic fire-roasted diced tomatoes or $0.88 for 28 oz of "regular" diced tomatoes, I find that a bit of a victory.

So what has inspired me to start writing again?  Well, in a sense, I found a new thesis statement (do you remember having to learn those in elementary school English class??): How to Still Eat Well (taste-wise, as well as nutritionally) with Diminishing Funds.

When I lost my job, I had already put together a menu for the following week, since it included Thanksgiving, which I had the privilege of hosting again this year (click here for last year).  It made my insides shrivel up when it came time to run our purchases down the conveyor belt of each store and watch the cashier tally up our debt, knowing it would be higher than usual and at possibly the worst time.  Nevertheless, we had a delightful Thanksgiving and it took us many days (nearly a week, actually) to clear enough leftovers from the fridge for me to start cooking things that created more leftovers.

When it came time to shop for this week's food, I did something I haven't done in years.  Literally.  As in, since before I started this blog and began charting out weekly menus (which I continued all through my absence, even though I didn't share them with anyone but Mister).  I went to the grocery stores and just bought staples and a few fresh veggies I knew would play well together.  Then what?  Then I took all the knowledge I've been storing away over the last three years of Cookbook Studying and just made it up!  I know, right?

One night, I made a thick, hearty minestrone using some canned tomatoes, fresh zucchini and carrots, and orzo lovingly donated to us by my dear FIL (which is a whole other story for another time, but let's just say Mister comes from good stock).

Oh?  You want a recipe?  Well... it's the least I can do after leaving you high and dry for so many months.

Hearty Winter Minestrone (I know it's not winter yet, but it should be!)
yields about 4 quarts (I'll let your bowls decide how many servings that is)

1 Tbsp olive oil
6-7 cloves of garlic, minced or pressed (depending on clove size and personal preference)
4 stalks of celery, thinly sliced
2 large carrots, sliced into pieces of uniform size
2 small zucchini, diced*
1/2 tsp McCormick Mediterranean Sea Salt Blend
1 quart vegetable broth (or measure 4 cups water and add 2 bouillon cubes when it starts to boil)
28 oz crushed tomatoes
15 oz petite diced tomatoes
15 oz can of white beans (cannellini would be good, but I used Great Northern)
scant tsp sea salt
1/4-1/2 tsp black pepper
1 tsp dried basil
1 cup dried orzo
* The easiest way I've found to do this is to "top and tail" the zucchini, then slice each one 4x lengthwise, then cut those slices 3x lengthwise and then just cut across in half-inch slices.

This is definitely the kind of meal where you can be chopping ingredients as you go along, so you should, because it'll shave off a little time.  Don't get me wrong - this is absolutely a delightfully slow-cooked soup, but there's no need to be standing around watching the pot for 5 minutes until it's time to add the next thing, right?

Heat the oil in a 4- to 6-qt pot on medium-low.  When the oil starts to shimmer a little, add the celery and garlic.  Stir well to combine and thoroughly coat with the oil, then cover and reduce the heat to low.  While they're cooking, cut up your carrots.  When they're all cut up, add them to the pot.  If you have super-fast, ninja-like knife skills, feel free to dice the zucchini and add that at the same time you add the carrot - the idea is to give the celery about 5-7 minutes of quality time in the sauna, stirring occasionally to make sure nothing burns.  Whenever you add the zucchini, sprinkle the Mediterranean Sea Salt blend over the whole mess, stir, and cover again.  Let that melange mix and mingle for another 5-7 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Stir in the diced tomatoes, then sprinkle with sea salt, pepper, and basil, then pour in the quart of broth and stir everything together.  Turn the heat up as high as it will go and wait for your soup to boil.  It'll probably do this faster if you cover the pot again, but don't wander off and check your facebook - you want to be ready the very moment the broth starts to boil, so hang out in the kitchen and glance between the latest issue of Vogue and the pot on your stove.

When the soup has reached a healthy boil, slowly pour in the cup of uncooked orzo while stirring the pot. Continue stirring while the broth boils for another minute or two, then lower the heat to medium/medium-low.  The soup should be at a vibrant simmer, but not boiling.  Be sure to stir frequently now that you've add the orzo - the first time or two that you stir, you'll likely find yourself pushing stubborn bits of pasta off the bottom of your pot, but once you've gotten to the 8 or 9-minute mark, you can relax the stirring and just let your soup simmer another 10 minutes or so.

Taste for seasoning; if necessary, add more salt and/or pepper, and serve immediately.

a curry to beat the cold

I'm sure this will come as a surprise, but it hasn't actually warmed up since I last wrote - today's high didn't breach 30 degrees.  I think tomorrow we might hit a balmy 38 as the high.  Who cares about the weather, though?  Someone had a birthday yesterday...

That's right - Me.  I'm still here, despite my pitiful recent blogging.  I don't normally like to designate "favorite" gifts because I love what all gifts represent - that a person loved me enough to think of me and give me a little something special.

Or, sometimes, a big something special.  Story Time!

A few nights ago, probably toward the beginning of the week, Mister and I were talking about something that made this next comment appropriate.  He said something and my response was, "Exactly, which is why I need a 1-qt All-Clad saucepan."  I'm not ashamed to say that my new 4-qt saute pan has started a dangerous and expensive "addiction" to this wonderful cookware.  Besides, I like that I can feel good about contributing to an American-owned and American-operated company, based in Pennsylvania, still doing everything in the USA, and though it hurts my wallet, I will gladly pay more to support that.

Anyway, I came home from an interesting day of teaching (nothing says, "today's gonna be great" like getting a call while you're on the train, asking if you're coming in today because the student no one told you was starting an hour before your earliest known student is in the store waiting for you) to go out for my birthday dinner at Vedge.  It was good, but I think there are still some quirks waiting to be worked out.  The noise level can get a little intense when it's a full house, and they dropped the ball on three kind of important things.

• our original reservation, made through the magic and convenience of OpenTable, was for 9pm.  I didn't really want to eat that late, but it was the earliest time available, so I took it, figuring I'd ask about changing when they called to confirm.  They called to confirm on Friday, and I asked the girl if we could swing an earlier time.  She said there was a table available at 8:30.  When we arrived a little after 8:30, the hostess gave me the impression she thought we were early...
• After confirming we'd like the 8:30 time, I asked if it would be possible to get a table that was not smushed in between two other 2 tops - it makes Mister and I very uncomfortable.  Him more than me, but I didn't want anything to impede our nice dinner for my birthday.  When we arrived and were told that our table was "already" ready, we were led to the only open table - a 2-top in between another 2-top and a 4-top occupied by a loud, obnoxious "party."
• The waitress suggested 3-4 plates per person, since the new concept at Vedge is small plates so you can sample a wider variety of dishes.  Following her advice, I ordered two old favorites from Horizons, which I knew would be at least a little different for the sake of novelty: Eggplant-Cauliflower Braciole and Golden Beets.  We also got Fingerling Fries and Black Olives as kind of an antipasti.  I never got my beets.  Fortunately, that left plenty of room for the amazing Sticky Toffee Pudding with salted caramel and a scoop of vanilla-bourbon ice cream.

I don't want to come out and say I'm disappointed in Vedge, but so far Mister and I have yet to be wowed like we consistently were at Horizons.  I'm pretty adventurous about my cuisine, but when Mister has to read and re-read the menu for the better part of 10 minutes, I think it'll be a hard sell to get him back there anytime soon.

On to the happy!  It was freezing last night, so we gave the bus around 1 minute to show up then hailed a cab and got home in relative warmth.  Upon our return, Mister presented me with my gift.

Have you guessed what it is yet?

If you guessed 1-qt All-Clad Saucepan you'd be right!  Apparently, he'd already gotten it by the time I made the comment about it on Monday and told me today that his thought then was "oh good, then I can get rid of the receipt!"  I can hardly wait to make my oatmeal in the morning...except that I'm out of soymilk, so it'll have to wait a day.

I'm also out of crushed tomatoes, which is why I didn't make a neat spin-off on a shepherd's pie made with winter vegetables and covered with a blanket of couscous, not mashed potatoes.  Instead, I had to use my brain and figure out what to do with what I did have: red cabbage, carrots, peas, and chickpeas.

So I made something up and it came out well enough to share:

3-C Curry
(makes about 6 servings)
2 Tbsp olive oil
4 small shallots, sliced
4 cloves of garlic, sliced
head of red cabbage, chopped
4 carrots
15 oz chickpeas
1 cup frozen peas
1 Tbsp curry powder
1 Tbsp za'atar
1 Tbsp tamari/soy sauce
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup water, more if needed
brown rice for serving


Heat oil in pan over medium heat.  When oil is "shimmering," add shallots and garlic.  Stir to coat with oil, then lower heat and cook about 10 minutes, until shallots begin to brown and get a little crispy.  Add chopped cabbage and water, cover and let cook for about 10 minutes.  When the cabbage is at least half-wilted, stir in the curry powder, salt, and tamari, then add the carrots and peas.  Stir well to distribute spices throughout the curry.  Cover and cook for another 10 minutes until the vegetables are tender.  Stir in chickpeas, taste for seasoning and add salt if necessary.  Serve over brown rice.

It was pretty good - it had this amazing color scheme going on: every bad color combination that was "hip" in the 1960s, I think.  We had the deep purple cabbage with bright orange carrots, vibrant green peas and beige chickpeas.  I added a little more salt at the end of cooking to enhance the curry flavors and it was tasty enough for Mister and I to each have two servings.  I'm looking forward to seeing how the curry flavors develop between now and lunch tomorrow.

free Beaujolais? mais oui et merci!

So, tonight was the Midtown Village Beaujolais Nouveau festival, honoring the third Thursday of November, when the Beaujolais Nouveau is introduced to the waiting (and aware) world.  It involved 12 restaurants serving Beaujolais-soaked entrees or appetizers (or maybe just constructing a specialty cocktail involving Beaujolais, like the Sangria at the Stephen Starr Mexican joint) and 9 area retailers (including my store) offering sales and complimentary tastes of the new vintage.  Some highlights?

• Beaujolais risotto
• Beaujolais-braised short rib pizza
• Beaujolais-inspired chocolates
• Beaujolais soap and lip balm
• and my favorite... Beaujolais jello shots

There were several other things, but those struck me as most outstanding and interesting.  I was working for the first two hours of the festival, but when my shift ended, I headed out to see what was still going on.  I entered Duross & Langel and was treated to a dixie cup of 2011 Beaujolais Nouveau and a complimentary tin of Beaujolais lip balm (it kind of smells like cherries, but whatever - it was free and makes my lips feel shiny).  They have some amazing handmade soaps in there and I will almost definitely return for the holiday shopping season - this stuff is great for that person who has everything because they are both novel and expendable.

After sniffing to my heart's content (and wishing things had price tags), I gave my empty cup to the jovial young man who had given it to me when it contained a swallow of wine and headed out the door. I wandered next door to Paper on Pine, owned by a neighbor of mine and a lovely woman (who also patronizes our shop).  As soon as I came in, the owner recognized me and gave me a more generously-poured plastic cup of 2009 Beaujolais-Villages (which wasn't exactly the point, but it is considered Georges deBoeuf's Vintage of a Lifetime and it's one of my favorites) to sip on as I chatted with her and wandered around her delightful little store.  I ended up with a lovely card and some stationery.  I will undoubtedly revisit her establishment not only for Christmas shopping but for many other things (she does custom-printed invitations and announcements, too).  As I was paying, she asked if I wanted more wine - what a lovely woman!  Alas, it was time to go home and make dinner, so I just stopped into my "local" wine store and picked up my own bottle of 2011 Beaujolais Nouveau to enjoy over the weekend.

It was only by reminding myself that payday is tomorrow that I was able to prevent myself from calling the newly-opened Vedge for reservations.  I've waited this long...

Nevertheless, by the time I got home, it felt too late to start making a dinner with an hour and a half of cooking time, so I decided to wing it!

Mister and I had a field day trying to come up with a cookbook-worthy name for this creation, but unless anyone would like to volunteer something a little snootier, we're going with

Pasta with Green Veggie Marinara

6 generous servings

Ingredients:

2 Tbsp olive oil

5 medium cloves of garlic, pressed

generous pinch of red pepper flakes

1 bunch of asparagus (roughly 1lb), bias-cut into 2" pieces

10oz frozen spinach, thawed

24oz prepared marinara

salt and pepper to taste

Heat the oil in a sauteuse on medium-high heat.  Add garlic and red pepper flakes, then reduce heat to low and saute, stirring frequently, 3-5 minutes, until golden.  Add asparagus and stir well to combine with garlic.

Cover pan and raise heat just slightly to make the asparagus sizzle a little.  Saute 7-8 minutes, stirring occasionally.  Meanwhile, cook the pasta of your choice (my choice was penne) according to package directions.  When the asparagus is tender, stir in thawed spinach.

and then add the marinara and stir well to thoroughly combine.

Simmer, uncovered, 5-7 minutes.  Drain the pasta and season the sauce with salt and/or pepper to taste, then toss the sauce with the pasta and serve!

Enjoy!  (with some Beaujolais Nouveau...)

Cheers!

no olives tonight

It's a pretty safe bet that Mister and I eat olives almost every day.  They are nearly always an accompaniment to our primarily Mediterranean dinners, so the only times I can think of that we don't have them at the table is when I make an Asian-inspired dish or we're out...which I usually try to time so they fall together.  We did not eat an Asian meal tonight, but we did not eat a Mediterranean meal either... in fact, for many reasons, tonight's dinner was entirely unsuited to olives.

I personally have never seen olives in a pub (unless it's a fancy pub with martinis)...

And tonight I made my Mister his veganized Bangers and Mash:

Ingredients:
4 Tofurky Beer Brats
1/2 stick of Earth Balance (or measure 1/4 c from the tub)
1 tsp olive oil
4 large shallots, thinly sliced
2-3 cloves of garlic, pressed
1 tsp sugar
1 tsp fresh thyme (or scant 1/2 tsp dried)
1/2 to 3/4 cup of red wine
2 cups vegetable broth
1 Tbsp vegan Worcestershire sauce
2 tsp cornstarch, dissolved in 1 Tbsp warm water
and for the mash...
2 lbs of Yukon Gold potatoes, cut into manageable chunks
2 Tbsp Earth Balance (1/2 of what remains from your earlier stick or measure from the tub)
1/3 to 1/2 cup unsweetened soymilk (or nondairy "milk" of your preference)


makes 4 servings


To make the gravy sauce, slice the shallots nice and thin, then press the garlic over top of them.  Melt the Earth Balance in a deep saute pan and add the olive oil.  Dump the whole pile of shallots and garlic into the heated oil 'n' EB and stir it up good, being sure to break up the rings of the shallots.

Cook for about 4-5 minutes, stirring occasionally.  Add the sugar, stir to coat, and allow to cook another 2 minutes or so.

Sprinkle on the thyme (quick tip: the easiest way to remove fresh thyme leaves from their stalks is by pulling the stalk through your finger(nail)s against the growth of leaves) and pour in your red wine.  Cook gently until reduced to just barely any liquid.

Pour in the vegetable broth and turn up the heat to get it to boil.  Once the stock is boiling somewhat rapidly, turn down the heat so that it's still bubbling gently.  Allow to cook until it's reduced by 80% - this took me about 30 minutes - stirring now and then.  When the gravy is appropriately reduced, stir in the Worcestershire sauce and then the slurry of cornstarch + water.  Turn heat to high and stir constantly until the gravy reaches a fierce, bubbling boil, then reduce heat slightly and continue to stir while it boils gently a few minutes.  Remove from heat.

Now, while you had those 30 minutes that the gravy was reducing, you should have been chopping the potatoes, putting them in a pot and covering them with water + 1", then boiling them until fork-tender (it took me about 10 minutes, but I chop small).  When the potatoes are done, drain them in a fine mesh colander and then dump them in your favorite Martha Stewart Blue mixing bowl.

Add 2 Tbsp of Earth Balance and start with 1/3 cup of soymilk (you can always add more).  Sprinkle on however much salt you think is appropriate (I went with a heaping teaspoon), then mash with a potato masher or fork (or even an electric mixer if you're feeling spunky) until smooth and creamy, adding more milk if necessary.

To serve, place one Tofurky Beer Brat on a plate (you're welcome, Mister), and lay a mountain of mashed potatoes beside it.  Place the gravy bowl on the table with a pretty little ladle and allow your dining partners to put it on their own plates, to taste.

It came out really good.  Mister was thrilled and I was very happy with my heaping mound of mashterpaters.  Mister and I once again remembered that we didn't know which hand held the knife, but we figured it was probably safest for the dominant hand to wield the sharp, pointy utensil.

As I'm sure you can imagine, Angst was also very excited about this "meat and potatoes" dinner.  He was so big-eyed and daring in his begging that Mister couldn't even be mad at him and even gave him a few pieces of his beer brat.

I can't take full credit for this recipe.  Since I was previously unacquainted with Bangers and Mash, I did do some internet research and was delighted to find the UK version of our Food Network, so the recipe above was inspired by and loosely based upon this one, penned by Ed Baines of Market Kitchen fame.

mister loves pasta

In case I haven't made it clear in the past, Mister loves pasta a whole heck of a lot.  He loves pasta so much that sometimes he even lets me serve him noodles made of all kinds of weird stuff, like buckwheat soba and rice noodles.  As such, I'm rewarding him with his patience for my recent soup spree with a week that is almost 50% noodles of some sort.  In fact, tonight we kicked off the new menu with dinner #1: Pasta E Fagioli from Veganomicon.

I made it with fun and sturdy Rotelle, but aside from that and the incredibly strong flavor of garlic, nothing was any more outstanding about this dish than normal.  And when I say "normal" what I mean is "indescribably good," which is why I won't try.  Just get the book and make it yourself (but increase the garlic to 8-9 cloves, if you dare...)

Every once in a while I serve "weird" noodles, like whole wheat spaghetti, and Mister isn't quite as thrilled.  I'm looking forward to seeing what he does with the soba noodles later in the week.  Fortunately, he's joined me in my love of these weird little rice noodles, which makes recipe creation a little easier.

Five-Spice Seitan and Noodles
4 servings

Ingredients:
12 oz seitan (in broth)
8 oz rice noodles, prepared according to package directions
green bell pepper, thinly sliced
1 cup julienned carrots (about 1 large carrot or 2 smaller ones)
4 cloves of garlic, pressed/minced
2 Tbsp peanut oil
1 tsp Five-Spice powder
3 Tbsp tamari/soy sauce
2 tsp miso (I used white, but you can use whatever you have), dissolved in 1/3 cup warm water
1/2 tsp toasted sesame oil


Heat peanut oil in a saute pan or wok on medium heat.  Add garlic, pepper slices, and carrots.  Cook, stirring occasionally for 3-5 minutes, then add seitan and mix.  Cook for 5 more minutes, then sprinkle on the Five Spice powder and tamari.  Mix well and lower heat to medium low.

Drain noodles and add to the pot with the miso-water mixture and sesame oil.  Cook, stirring frequently, for about three more minutes, until almost all the liquid is absorbed.

partners in crime

Once upon a time, long ago and far away, I could burn water if I tried to cook.  My mother tried to explain to me that cooking is as easy as following a recipe, but I couldn't be bothered to read and prepare food simultaneously.  When I moved into my first apartment, I was somewhat skilled at Minute Rice, frozen chicken nuggets, and stovetop mac & cheese (involving packets of impossibly orange "cheese product").  I was also pretty skilled at ordering take-out and delivery.

Oh yeah, ramen noodles - I was a champ with those.

Anyway, when I met Mister, we usually went out for food, occasionally got a pizza after work, and once in a while, he'd cook something up.  Once I got this romantic notion that I would make him dinner.  I set the table with my parents' special china, crystal glasses, and lit some candles, then served the most impressive meal I could make at that time: chicken nuggets, Minute Rice, and Campbell's chunky soup in the Potato Cheese variety.

I look at that "menu" now and understand why Mister didn't let me cook again for at least two more years.  I usually credit two things with me learning how to become the gourmet chef I pretend to be today: losing my job and therefore having all day to prepare dinner, and several great cookbooks gifted to me by my husband's mother, specifically Sundays at Moosewood Restaurant.  Let's put a little timeline together, though:

Summer 2001 - Mister and I share our first kiss, become generally inseparable.
Winter 2002 - Mister becomes a vegetarian, forsaking meat and confusing the heck out of me
Summer 2002 - I join Mister in ceasing animal consumption
October 2002 - move out of my parents' house and into my ghetto apartment.  No takeout worth risking my life for, so I learn to cook...kind of.  General rotation at this point: pasta with red sauce, veggie lo mein, veggie burgers with fries, mixed veggies on rice.  Just mix and repeat.
blahblahblah
June 2006 - get laid off, have tons of time to cook, suddenly grow my gourmet wings.

Do you see that huge gap?  Do you really think we lived on a diet of mixed veggies with rice, pasta and sauce, pizza and veggie burgers for four years?  No, we didn't.  Somewhere in there, Mister taught me some tricks and helped me figure out this crazy cooking thing.

See, I don't work all day and then come home and cook us dinner because Mister can't or is unwilling to.  I come home and cook dinner because I enjoy cooking and it helps me unwind.  Mister has offered many times to make dinner, but he knows I enjoy it.  He does offer his assistance from time to time - especially where mexican/southwestern cuisine is concerned.  I never would have known that you can't eat chili without tortilla chips and that using a fork is a sin but a spoon?  Well, that's straight-up sacrilegious.

Tonight, as I was dicing a pepper for Tofu Rancheros, Mister came sniffing his way into the kitchen to see what was going on (the tasty aroma of the pan-seared tofu drew him in...no, really, it did).  He asked what I was making, I told him.  He asked how exactly that was going to work, so I told him the recipe.  He stood, looking a little perplexed, then said,

"Shouldn't there be refried beans?"
Um....
"I thought that's what made them 'Rancheros,' right?"
Um.... I thought it was the tortilla.
"I don't know..."
Okay, well, do you want there to be refried beans?
thinkthinkthink "Yes."
short staring contest commences, and then,
"So I'll go get them.  Do we need anything else?"

So that's the story of how Mister made my old recipe for Tofu Rancheros a little bit better.

Although, I have to say, letting the congealed mass of mashed beans sluuuurrrp! into my food is never something that makes me drool with anticipation.  When I was younger, we had a poodle and when she got older we had to feed her a special diet which involved phenomenally stinky canned dog food.

I don't want to say that this reminds me of that... but why would I have told you that story if it didn't?

It always works out, though, once the heat has some time to work it into a malleable goop.

So, for your viewing and tasting pleasure, here is a recipe to celebrate World Vegan Day:

Tofu Rancheros
6 servings (or 8 skimpy ones)

Ingredients:
6 small to medium tortillas (I used Whole Foods 365 brand Red Chili tortillas)
14 oz firm or extra firm tofu
cooking spray
3 Tbsp tamari/soy sauce
2 Tbsp oil
1 large red bell pepper, diced
3 cloves of garlic, minced or pressed
14 oz can of petite diced tomatoes, drained with liquid reserved
1 cup finely chopped kale (or green thing of your preference)
a generous tsp of chili powder
a generous tsp of dried cilantro
a scant tsp of kosher salt
1/2 tsp cumin


Coat a square skillet with cooking spray.
Slice tofu through the middle lengthwise, then into 8ths crosswise.  Heat the skillet while the tofu drains on a towel, then lay the tofu on the hot skillet and sprinkle with tamari.  Flip tofu immediately to allow tamari to penetrate both sides of the tofu, and cook on medium-high for about 10 minutes, flipping two or three times (about every 3 minutes), until browned and a little crisp on both sides.  Remove from heat and roughly chop with your spatula.

I'm actually not very good at "roughly."  I prefer perfect triangles, cutting each square piece of tofu from corner to corner and then the other way, too.  But it doesn't have to look this OCD precise.

While the tofu is cooking, heat the oil in a saute pan and saute the peppers and garlic in oil 3-5 minutes over a medium-low flame.  Add drained tomatoes, chili powder, cilantro, salt, and cumin and stir well to combine.  Cook for 5 more minutes, adding reserved tomato juice if the mixture seems to dry out, then add kale and stir to wilt.

Add refried bean and cut up the congealed, can-shaped mass until it can mix in with the other ingredients.  Stir everything together until it is smooth and looks more like food or vomit than a can-shaped, pink cylinder of dog food.

Add tofu and mix well - feel free to break up the tofu a little more with the spoon as you mix.

Cook for a minute or two more, then remove from heat.  Divide mixture among warmed tortillas, then tuck the bottom and roll like a burrito and enjoy!

It must have come out alright - Mister had four.  That might be a record number of servings involving tofu for him.  He was so busy enjoying his "fun dinner" that he didn't notice how much he'd eaten until I pointed it out, which then veered off into a conversation about Del Taco and him ordering the family value meals when he goes there because everything is so cheap and small.

mean wife makes good

I am a mean, short-sighted woman.

When I got home from work late tonight, Mister told me he'd been feeling sick all day and didn't eat much besides crackers, which made him "all pukey."  I told him I was going to eat food and asked if he wanted to eat anything with me.  He said no.

Nevertheless, it was really my finest moment of No Common Sense when I grabbed the leftover Harira soup from the fridge, heated it up and ate it.  No more than 10 minutes afterward, Mister came into the kitchen and started snooping in the fridge.  In the exact location where the soup had been.

I lamented that if I had known he would get hungry, I wouldn't have eaten the soup but I didn't think he'd want the soup anyway (even though that's usually what he eats when his stomach is angry) and he feigned devastation that I would do such an inconsiderate thing.  Soon we were laughing all over each other, then we stood facing one another as I offered to make him a new soup.  He thought for a moment, then said he would like that, so I made

Emergency Lentil Soup
2 servings

Ingredients:
2-3 cloves of garlic, pressed or minced
1 large rib of celery, halved and sliced
1 large carrot, diced
1 medium potato, diced (I used a neato purple one we found at Linvilla last week, but I'm sure a regular ol' tater will do just fine)
1 Tbsp olive oil
1 Tbsp tomato paste
1/2 tsp salt
1/3 cup dry lentils
2 cups vegetable broth
1 sprig of fresh thyme


Heat olive oil in a saucepan on medium heat, then add garlic and celery and saute 2-3 minutes.  Add carrot, stir to combine, cover and cook 2-3 minutes.  Add potato and salt, stir to combine and then cover and saute 2-3 minutes.  Add broth and lentils and bring to a boil.  Stir in tomato paste until completely combined with broth, then place the thyme sprig on top and cover.  Turn heat to the lowest setting and simmer, stirring occasionally, 20-25 minutes, until lentils and potatoes are tender.  I usually test this by trying to smush a potato piece between the spoon and the side of the pot.  Before serving, remove the now-droopy sprig of thyme.