this is your brain on bacon

Bacon.  It's kind of like The New Superfood except that it'll kill you, not make you stronger.  In addition to its high fat and cholesterol content, there is a carcinogen in bacon that is activated through the cooking process.

Nevertheless, Bacon.  People love it.  All kinds of people - big people, little people, fat people, thin people, couch potatoes, athletes....and vegetarians?  Yup, sometimes vegetarians love it, too.  It's been referred to as the "gateway meat," the one temptation that proves too much even for a committed vegetarian to resist.  I've heard stories of friend's friends who are steadfast vegetarians... until they get really drunk and then they want to eat bacon.  I guess it's not made of pig when you're drunk.

But listen, I'm not here to criticize.

If you ask most vegans/vegetarians what one thing they miss, taking animals and the environment and everything else out of the equation, it's normally bacon.

Once upon a time, in a land kind of far away (not really), I had a weekend tradition.  My friends and I would go out to a club/bar on Friday night and drink and dance until it closed, then we would return to the home of the friend who lived almost right behind the bar/club, eat nachos and then either disperse or fall asleep.  The following morning, we would curl up on the couch and drink coffee and watch ridiculous things on the TV until we were hungry enough to send her boyfriend to the nearby Burger King for food (yes, I thought that's what it was way back then).  I always got a #5 value meal with Dr. Pepper.  The #5 was a Double Bacon Cheeseburger with fries and I loooooved it.

Time passed and the "weekend treat" turned into my Go-To "to go" meal.  I would even get the "gourmet" version at a local Philly pub.  I truly don't know how I lived long enough to become a vegetarian, but I'm glad I did (and so are my heart, arteries, and waistline).

Believe it or not, this is all building up to my lunch today.  Please keep breathing - I didn't eat a double bacon cheeseburger...

I had a Ziggy Burger from HipCityVeg!  Please excuse the rotten picture - the place was packed, so I took my biodegradable, recycled-and-recyclable bag of lunch across the street to Rittenhouse Square and I care way too much about whether strangers will think I'm weird for photographing a burger, so I just took a crappy picture with my ancient dumbphone.

Anyway, I actually had planned to get the Philly Steak, but when I asked about getting it without the mushrooms and onions, I was told that they were "cooked into" the seitan, so that ended that little dream.  The bubbly, cute girl behind the iPad "register" suggested the Ziggy Burger.  She had me at "smoked tempeh," so I decided to give it a try.

Once I'd seated myself on a bench in the park, I pulled my burger out and was immediately amused by the wrapping:

It looks even neater up close.

The first bite of my burger was an almost otherworldly experience - I never thought I would taste a bacon cheeseburger again, but that is exactly what the Ziggy Burger tastes like.  It was so good.  I don't even want to describe it, I just want you to go to HipCityVeg and try one yourself.  Or anything else from this amazing menu...

photo credit

I want to try everything that doesn't involve Portobello mushrooms.  This is a goal that will likely be spread out over several paychecks, since the fast food set-up does not over-ride Rittenhouse Square pricing.  What's worse is how I only vaguely cringe at this point when my burger came out to $9.10 (including tax).  Actually, no, what's THE worst is that $9.10 only covered the burger.  If I had gotten fries (or kale!) and a drink, I'd have paid $15-20.  For lunch.

That being said, it was a great burger (though I kind of suspect the patty itself might have been a Boca vegan burger...) and when I entered the joint I was offered a free shot of their "Groothie," a green smoothie made of apples, bananas, kale, and pineapple and it was amazing.  I would totally pay $3.50 for it... on occasion.  I was fortunate to get there at a "lull" in the excitement.  Yeah, every seat was taken and some people were lined up along a wall waiting for their food, but I walked right in and up to the register to order - no waiting.  I must have (for once) had perfect timing, because by the time I moved to the wall to await my white satchel of burger with HipCityVeg stamped oh-so-indie-ly upon it in black ink, there was a queue of people straight out the door!

If you miss bacon, do yourself a favor and go to HipCityVeg.
If you love bacon and still eat it even though it will kill you, do your body a favor and go to HipCityVeg.
If you just love to eat good food (tasty and nutritious!), go to HipCityVeg!


Maybe I'll see you there after I get my next paycheck ;)  I'll be the one with sweet potato fries, sauteed kale, and a groothie begging the lady with the iPad to take my money.

glitter and good will

If you look back over posts from Decembers Past, you'll find I don't usually have time to enjoy The Most Wonderful Time of the Year due to working like a maniac.  Since I find myself working a retail position this holiday season, I figured I would once again miss out on the fun due to a busy schedule.  It has been plenty busy but since I am now in the city from the moment I wake up until I fall asleep again, I still have enough leftover time and energy to enjoy the holiday - how welcome a relief!

I hope you found my last post more inspiring than depressing or mean.  I expect this one to be of a far more light-hearted nature.

In years past, as in, those that came before full-time jobs and adult responsibilities, I used to love the weeks leading up to Christmas.  Everyday I would open my eyes in anticipation of a snowfall that usually didn't come.  At night I would decorate the envelopes in which I would send off treasures - Christmas cards and sometimes invitations to a grand party.  One year, I even managed to have a formal party - I wore a full, floor-length gown of midnight blue georgette and satin!  I was the most dressed of all my attendees, but they did humor me and dress to the nines.  Although I'm not yet back to the point of being able to host a lavish, gilded soiree, I have decorated my home for the first time in many years and tonight I covered myself and my dining table with the glitter that fell from the Christmas cards I was addressing in my finest script.  It feels good to have a box full of treasures for mailing!

In the hopes of pulling you into my Holiday Spirit, let's have a Picture Parade!

Here is a tiny ceramic nativity scene.  It seemed like the best place for it was beneath the tree, since I do consider the birth of my Savior to be the greatest gift of all.  Despite that truth, I will probably have to move it when I start putting presents beneath the tree (which I hope will start happening this weekend!).

Anyone remember Beanie Babies?  This is my angelbear beanie - its name is Halo II (good name for a friend, right?) and we share a birthday (even if we are 22 years apart).

I have a lovely angel ornament who is currently too big and heavy for my little Charlie Brown tree.  Fortunately, this year we have a mantel and a fireplace and I think she looks just lovely suspended there, just beyond the tree.

Santa's keeping a close watch over my watercolor of Lake Tahoe (I think he'd rather locate his toy shop there).

Initially, I thought I'd clear off the mantel completely and put up green garland, maybe with some lights and ribbon, then weave some candles and other Christmas decor (like my tiny nativity scene) in, but then I looked again and saw what a beautiful job Mister had done, arranging one of my favorite wedding photos amidst some candles and other works of art created specifically for us, and I thought I would rather just augment his work.  So, I added another Santa.

Eleven months of the year, this guy lives inside the santa box above.  He's a painted ceramic snowman lantern.  Think about that.  A snowman lantern.  It's a little twisted, don't you think?

"Hey, what should we set on fire?"

"How 'bout this snowman over here?"

I mean, really?  What thought process goes into making a snowman lantern?

Nevertheless, I love it and will keep him burning as long as I keep finding tea-light candles.

This is a little pewter nativity scene candle.  Again, with the irreverent things to set on fire, but anyway... my father-in-law gave me this little token at my first Greek Christmas.  He did so because he didn't know if the hostess, Yiayia (Greek for Grandmother), would have included me in the gift-giving and he didn't want me to feel left out.

So I love it.

That's a little tin pail, painted up to resemble Santa.  It appears Santa is like the Beans-n-Rice of my decorating world - can't have too many versions, can I?  This one makes a great candy holder, so there are individually-wrapped peppermints in there right now.  Candy canes may or may not be next.

Angst was feeling a bit uncertain about the decor changes.

In fact, he was pretty sure he wanted nothing to do with all these sparkly, lit-up things.

 Oh.  Wait.

Dangle-y things?

flashbacks are fun!

Everyone have their Flashback Hats on?  Okay, hold on tight - here we go!

It was sometime in the autumn of a day in the mid-1990s.  I was in college, sitting in my dorm room.  It was later in the evening, I'd probably just finished some homework and had no other plans for the evening. I was hungry, but all food options on campus (aside from the healthful options in 1990s vending machines) were closed down for the night.

What's this?

My eyes fall on a plastic milk-crate beneath my nailed-to-the-wall desk.  It's packed to the gills with all kinds of "food."  When I shipped off to college, a group of dear friends had assembled this Care Package for me, full of strange and exotic foods I'd never eaten before.  Well, okay, I'd had PopTarts on the rare occasion my mother was willing to permit them as a breakfast treat, but never artificially purple frosted Wildberry PopTarts.  By the way - they're revolting.  If you've never had them, there's no reason to start now.

I pulled the crate out in to the glow of the flattering fluorescent overhead light and poked through the contents for something that would qualify as Substantial Food.  Finally, I pulled out a plastic packet which I pulled open to reveal a brick of dried "noodles" and a packet of seasoning that I think was supposed to taste like chicken.

That's right.  Ramen Noodles.

I had never had them before, but I broke the brick into smaller bits, sprinkled the seasoning over top and filled the bowl with hot water.  It was love at first slurp.

I can't even imagine what my body thought of the extraordinary sodium increase, but 10 (or so) pounds later, the love affair began to fade...

Don't fret!  There is still time for a happy ending!

So a few months ago, vegan ramen started being a new foodie trend and for the first time, I learned that ramen is not just a 10-for-$1 phenomenon that prevents college students from starving at midnight (while raising their blood pressure and increasing their waistlines).  NO!  It's also a normal, everyday Japanese dish, ordinarily made with a savory (albeit animal-based) broth, plenty of fresh veggies, and long slender noodles.

Imagine my delight upon paging through Celebrate Vegan for this week's menu to find that Dynise had included her own ramen recipe.  Tonight's dinner, then, was the ubiquitous Ramen Noodle Bowl from that very same book and it was far more delicious than those bricks of dry noodles soaked in reconstituted broth could ever be (no matter how long I'd been writing a term paper, preparing a speech, or studying for a test).

I don't know why the picture is green - all I can think of is the reflection from the placemats?  Anyway... per the recipe instructions, I simmered ginger and garlic in a vegetable broth, along with carrots, green cabbage, broccoli, and green onions, topping it off with cappellini noodles standing in for those old, crumbly bricks (and also, because of a sale, the box of cappellini cost less than a six-pack of prepacked ramen noodles).  It was delicious - Mister and I both slurped up two bowls with reckless abandon for our waistlines or blood pressure, and although I'm sure we could do without the concentrated sodium in the cubes of Rapunzel bouillon I used for the broth, I'm sure we could have (and have) done worse.

I was impressed with how much more flavorful and, for lack of a less pretentious word, complex the broth and noodles were.  I'm not going to pretend that the cabbage added some je ne sais quoi, but I will say that the drizzling of toasted dark sesame oil to finish the dish did so with such a flair, it's hard to believe someone would bother simplifying all that jazz to sell by the penny to poor [stupid] college kids.

By the way - if you're wondering where the Freshman Fifteen comes from, it's not the beer Freshmen are too young to drink legally - it's from the Ramen their parents willingly buy them to get them through all-night study sessions (which really do happen!).

I got some lucky charms

When I was a kid, my mother and I had a continual struggle over one particular breakfast cereal.  My sister was frequently my accomplice and when we teamed up, we frequently won.  We wanted Lucky Charms - what kid wouldn't?  First of all, when we were children, they had a great marketing campaign, complete with animated leprechauns and colorful marshmallows.

this is the actual 1980 box design

Second of all, the cereal was almost half marshmallows!  Granted, the other half was flavorless, grainy, mushy-in-milk cereal shaped to imitate those colorful, sugary, artificially flavored nuggets of heaven, but there were ways of getting around that.

And that, friends, is why the struggle occurred.

My mother made the mistake of giving in and buying it for us once.  In days were were finished with the cereal, and what I mean by that is that we had plucked out all of the marshmallows and had no special interest in eating what was left.  Mom saw this as a colossal waste of our hard-working father's money, so she swore she'd never buy it again.

When your eyes are as big and blue as mine and your hair as pale and angelic as my sister's, you just know that isn't going to last.  Throughout my childhood and youth, the scenario repeated itself over and over - mom bought the cereal after securing promises from her two little gremlins angels that we would eat ALL the contents of the box, not just the marshmallows.  We found newer and more inventive ways of not eating the gross, grey, real cereal in the box, or eating as little of it as we could get away with.

Once, as an adult, I bought myself the much-fought-over and much-sought-after cereal and discovered two things.  First, I don't know if they improved the flavor of the NotMarshmallowBits, but it really wasn't all that bad to eat bites that contained equal amounts of cereal and marshmallows.  Second, I don't know if they changed the "recipe" for the marshmallows, but they really weren't worth all the begging.

Anyway, this post isn't about those lucky charms (believe it or not).

I got lucky tonight with the last recipe of the menu: Tanya's Asian Creation from The Garden of Vegan.  Honestly, I made this out of a stubborn desire to use the second most underused cookbook in my collection.  I sat down with the book while making last week's menu and said, "I will find one good recipe in this book so I can justify having it for a better reason than that it completes the Sarah Kramer Trilogy."

In the book, the recipe looked promising, but I'll admit, it was at this point in preparing it that I finally became convinced it might taste good.  I realized that is one of the reasons I don't cook frequently from this book - there are a lot of freaky little Asian-inspired dishes by Tanya Barnard, Sarah's writing-mate, and I just can't get into a lot of the strange ingredients she uses.  I confirmed my suspicions during dinner that Mister might leave me if I try to feed him seaweed.

Fortunately, we both got lucky because this has no seaweed or other bizarre ingredients and actually tasted pretty good.  It must have been sufficiently filling, too, because it took Mister hours to need his nightly sandwich(es).

So, the old menu done and the new menu was constructed over the course of today (yes, it took all day - I was interrupted several times by a hyper Mister who concluded that he is better off as an insomniac because when he sleeps too much [= enough], he has all kinds of energy and won't leave me alone).  Lucky for Mister, I love him and I constructed almost the whole menu with his recent requests/feedback/pleas in mind.

1. Cottage Pie - I've mentioned a couple of times now that Mister mourns the loss of classic UK pub food (which is amusing, since I'm the Greek's little Irish wife), so I've set out to try veganizing a couple of classics.  This one looked relatively do-able, so while the name of the recipe links to the original recipe, I will probably post my own version once I've determined it's worth feeding to other people.

2. Bangers and Mash - which was the original reason this began.  Mister really wants vegan Bangers and Mash and said "it's just sausage and mashed potatoes, so it shouldn't be that difficult, but there's something about it that's just so....amazing."  From the recipe I'll be loosely following, it looks like that "something special" is the gravy.  Interestingly enough, I found a recipe for Bangers and Mash in one of the cookbooks I went through tonight for the rest of the menu, but since the recipe I'm borrowing from (click the title) is composed by a true Brit, I'm going to stick with that.

3. Easy Manicotti Alla Romana from The Vegetarian Times Complete Cookbook because Mister also requested more food you need to cut with a knife and can be served on a plate.  Go figure.  Anyway, I figure this combines everything that is great in MisterWorld: Italian food, food you can cut, and food you eat on a plate.

4. Sloppy Joes from The Urban Vegan, which also requires a plate, also makes Mister (and Angst, and me) happy, and cooks up super fast and easy, which is all I want in the world some nights.

5. Granada Paella, also from The Urban Vegan, even though it burns my face off the first night (the leftovers hurt less, probably because I don't heat them up) because it really does taste incredible and I've made it so many times I barely have to think about it anymore, which is another thing that's important some nights.

6. Farfalle with White Beans and Cabbage from Vegan on the Cheap because I have half a head of red cabbage hanging out in my crisper drawer and because the grocery list was getting a little long for the second week of the paycheck.

At least half of the recipes take a decent time commitment.  I wanted to take advantage of the time before Black Friday to make some longer-cooking meals because I have an idea that I will want low-effort meals for the month and a half that follows.  Someday I'll work in a position that doesn't mean December = Insanity.  This year is not that time.

peanut-scented zen

I think the whole "bowl" idea is more of a West Coast phenomenon.  Maybe I'm wrong.  I'd like to be, actually, because I love bowls - I love the way they look, I like how much easier it is to eat most things from a bowl, rather than chasing things like cabbage, cannellini beans, and rotini around a plate.  Let's have a short flashback parade:

Waaaaaayyyyy back in February 2010, my parents gave me The 30 Minute Vegan for my birthday.  I've mentioned in the past how fruity and flowery the book is, written by a hippie couple blessed to live in Hawaii where it's warm enough all year to consider a 50% raw diet do-able.  Raw.  I can deal with raw.  When we start talking about "living" soup, I get a little creeped out, to be completely honest.

Anyway, although I'm sure I had some other "bowl" recipes (Isa also favors them, which might put a bullet in my West Coast Bowl theory), it was this cookbook that introduced me to the Monk Bowl.

Later that same year, Mister and I took a trip out to LA for Blizzcon and some QT with his sister, her husband, and their adorable little boy.  While out there, we visited Native Foods, which as you can probably imagine, is a whole restaurant whose menu consists almost exclusively of bowls.  To back up just a second, here is the basic make-up of the ubiquitous "Bowl."

• rice, quinoa, bulgur, or some other kind of grain; occasionally noodles, depending on cuisine.
• veggies - usually steamed, occasionally lightly sauteed or raw.
• protein source: tofu, tempeh, possibly seitan, commonly beans
• topping: a dressing of some sort, maybe two - BBQ sauce, ranch dressing, tahini-mustard dressing, etc - normally a "creamy" or opaque sauce, rather than a vinaigrette - "bowls" should not be confused with salads.

So anyway, my whole point is - I heart Bowls.  Mister could probably do without them, but he's never complained really... he just tends to set the table with plates when he has a chance.

Tonight, I made Monk Bowls again (you might have seen this coming).  This time I was not overly concerned with perfecting the symphony in my kitchen or creating peaceful zen through multi-tasked cooking.  No, this time, I was focused on a change I've made from the last few times I made this.  I did not feel like making a dressing, even though it takes about 5 minutes if I'm really clumsy.  I also did not feel like steaming the vegetables, because as I learned a little bit ago, I really don't like the water-logged flavor/texture of steamed veggies.  I combined my solution for those two "problems" in one action.

The book even mentioned this, but I hadn't bothered reading the variations until last time I went through the menu.  I sauteed them instead.  In order to provide the flavor that would be missing from the dressing I did not intend to make, I made it a two-step process.

First, I poured a generous amount of olive oil into a pan and let it heat up a bit.  I added about 2 tsp of za'atar, scant 1 tsp of sea salt, and about 1/3 tsp garlic powder.  I let them warm in the oil, then stirred everything together.  When the sesame seeds in the za'atar started to pop, I added the bowlful of chopped veggies (a red pepper, three carrots, and a head of broccoli) and stirred everything really well to coat the veggies with oil and za'atar.  Then I covered everything up and let it steam-saute while I tended to my roasting tofu and simmering brown rice.  All said, I let it simmer like that, stirring now and then, for nearly 15 minutes, which turned out perfectly, flavor- and texture-wise.

Angst was pretty sure he liked the smells in the kitchen and waited patiently in front of the dinner table.

He begged, noisily, throughout the entire meal, too, even though we insisted there was nothing he wanted.  Mister even put his bowl on the floor so Angst could inspect it.  Upon determining Mister wasn't eating real food, he turned his big sad eyes on me since apparently, I had what he really wanted.

I know I had what I really wanted!  It turned out really well.  The tofu was sublime.  I pressed it in my handy Tofu Xpress before a brief marinating time in soy sauce, peanut oil, and water (okay, maybe there was a little drop of toasted dark sesame oil, too).  It had a great texture after roasting 15 minutes and I don't remember the flavor pervading the tofu as much as it did this time, so I will continue to press the tofu for this recipe, even though it's not called for.

The sauteed veggies came out great, with a good yet subtle flavor from the za'atar.  I will probably make some dressing next time, purely because dressing is fun.  I just didn't want to deal with it tonight, and I had gotten the idea in my head to use some of the za'atar I got in San Francisco.

I wouldn't say it was a zen ballet, but then again, I'm not sure I would use that language to describe anything.  Why don't we just leave it at: it was easy, it was tasty, and I'll do it again.

best frenemies

There are a few super-smart folks in the world who excel at every academic subject from math to french with a little creative writing and chemistry thrown in for extra flavor.  I am not one of those people.  I got by for a while, but by high school I needed a tutor to pass math and managed to pass chemistry by one percentage point.  I'm definitely a liberal arts kinda gal.

The laws in Pennsylvania say that I had to take science and math until the end of my junior year.  You can bet my senior year of high school including such challenging math courses as British Literature and Creative Writing, while I struggled through my science course, also known as French.

What I'm trying to say is, me and math?  We don't get along.

Nevertheless, we're going to start today's post with a little math - everyone's favorite, word problems.  Ready?  Here we go!

Coconut Milk + Lime = BFFs times infinity

Coconut Milk + Tomatoes and their juices = relatively tolerable

Coconut Milk + Tomatoes + Lime = this will never happen again

In case you couldn't put 2+2 together, tonight's dinner was Pineapple Curry Tofu from the new Clean Eating magazine.  In theory, it sounded at least a little daring, but I figured I like tofu, we like pineapple, and Mister loves curry, so this should work, right?

Not so much.

It wasn't awful - I shouldn't let you think that.  There was just something about it that didn't work.  I'm pretty sure it was the final addition of 2 Tbsp lime juice.  Tomatoes are relatively acidic, and when you add harissa in place of asian chili sauce, they get hot and acidic.  The perfect foil seems quite obviously to be the thick, creamy, cooling (heat-distributing) coconut milk and I think it could have been, if only I hadn't actually followed the recipe.  I think the sneaky frenemy was the lime juice.  It seemed like such an innocent invitation, but what happened was that it enhanced the tartness and acidity of the tomatoes to such a point that the harissa made the whole thing hotter than it needed to be and a little unpleasant.  Although there was nice bland tofu and delicious chunks of pineapple and red pepper, all I could taste was tomato.

By the way - me and flour-coated tofu?  Also best frenemies.  I really want it to work - I want my tofu to look like the tofu in the magazine, all crispy and evenly coated.  My problem is that the minute I stir the tofu, all the "breading" adheres to the spatula, turning its back on the tofu like a 7th grade girl.

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!

salsa minima & winemaker's blend

As you might imagine, tonight I made Spaghetti con Salsa Fresca from The Urban Vegan.  As I mentioned when I presented the menu, I chose this recipe because I accidentally sent Mister to fetch too many tomatoes.  Ordinarily, I would reserve a dish like this for summertime, when the living is...well, when the tomatoes are ripe, how about that?  However, I've had reasonably good luck with plum tomatoes this year, and that just happened to be what I overstocked.

There's my little pile of garlic - things like that make my mouth happy in anticipation.  The recipe said to slice it, but slicing garlic into uniform pieces is not high on my list of ways to unwind from a Monday, so I pressed it instead.

I had some hesitation about boiling an entire pound of pasta, but I figured it would work out since spaghetti's thin anyway.  I think where I "went wrong" was that the recipe called for 6 medium tomatoes, and I had 5 kinda-big plum tomatoes.  I think I needed more tomato to make this work.

It was good, but the sauce definitely played a minimal role.  I found that it combined well with the bowl of olives I placed between Mister and I, so I used some of them to make up for lack of sauce.  Like I said, I'll probably pull this out and dust it off again sometime in July, when there are plenty of big, ripe, flavorful tomatoes to make a more voluminous sauce with a little more oomph.

And now for a message from our sponsors: The Power of Suggestion.

Have you ever noticed that sometimes you want something just because you've been around it so long?  Sometimes something looks far more attractive after seeing it on a regular basis for a little while than it did initially?  My first experience with this was when I worked at The Limited during winter break in college.  I worked there because I loved their clothes, but the winter I worked there they had an influx of kind of ugly fashion.  After a week or so of folding velour patterned blouses, I thought they maybe weren't quite as bad as I originally thought.  After weeks of passing a salmon-colored sweater-tee-shirt, I thought it was actually a flattering cut and color.  After wandering every inch of the store making sure everything was as it should be and refolding the sweaters people carelessly poked through, looking for their size, I realized that I had completely misjudged the ugly clothes when they arrived at the store.  I'm pretty sure I spent more than I made by the time I headed back to college...with a new wardrobe.

How does all that relate?  Well, when we were packing, I discovered an endless supply of good-sized boxes at the wine store.  One of those boxes was for Apothic Red Wine, which I'd never heard of before, but could not deny had beautiful branding.  After a couple of weeks of trying to remember to unpack that box, a couple of weeks of looking at that box during or after dinner, my curiosity got the better of me.

You cannot deny that is a beautiful label.  I've always been a sucker for curlicues and red on black.  Anyway, I went to their website because we just don't have enough discretionary income for me to hate my wine and I was absolutely intrigued by the blend of wines used to craft this bottle: Zinfandel, Syrah, and Merlot.  I've been fairly ignorant of Zinfandel, but I know I like Syrah and Merlot, and the description made my mouth water:

Apothic Red reveals intense fruit aromas and flavors of rhubarb and black cherry that are complemented by hints of mocha, chocolate, brown spice and vanilla. The plush, velvety mouthfeel and smooth finish round out this intriguing, full-bodied red blend.

 I picked up a bottle on my way home from work tonight and I was a little alarmed by the first taste (a little drier than I was expecting), but I found that it develops into quite a drinkable flavor.  Another selling point is its color: I nearly fainted as I watched it pour from the dark green bottle into my black-stemmed wine glass - it is a fabulous shade of cherry-plum red.  If I could figure out how to turn my hair or my lips the color that came out of the bottle, I would never look for another cosmetic all my life.  Besides the color, it rolls across the tongue with a kaleidoscope of flavors - berry and spice, almost a rosy scent, and the mocha and vanilla notes were unimaginably enhanced by the square of dark chocolate that joined my wine for dessert.

I'll leave you thirsty and with a great wine recommendation...
and also with a funny picture of my little grey mouse hiding between the TV and the bookshelf in the living room after Mister moved one too many things.

snowpocalypse: the beginning of the end

How's that for an epic title?

We got a whole ton of snow here in Philadelphia - I think the final numbers were around 15-16 inches.  Today began the great dig-out, so I moved through today to the soundtrack of shovels scraping the pavement.  That's right, folks, I got another snow day after all.  I wish I'd known ahead of time, like I did in high school, so I could just sleep in, but I think I got a lot more done than I would have if I'd gone back to bed.  I really did think I was going to work this morning, despite my desire for another snow day; however, there's not much you can do when all the buses have stopped operating and every train that would take you to your destination is being canceled.  Since the sidewalks were a hideous mess and cabs were sliding into the curbs, walking to the train station to wait for a train that would never come kind of lost its appeal.

So, thanks to Snowpocalypse 2011, I have begun the process of moving, which I will probably document here as a pitiful excuse for my interesting meal stories diminishing.  Believe me, my pots, pans, and everyday dishes will be the last things packed (besides the cat), but I fully anticipate:
a) some take-out dinners in the last part of this process and
b) packing taking priority over posting.  I'm only here now because my new bottle of Beaujolais, picked up when I was harvesting boxes from the wine store, was singing its siren song and I needed a short break from wrapping every(fancy)thing a person could possibly drink from in newspaper.

I spent most of the daylight hours hunting down boxes since I can't get them home from my office.  Between Essene, the wine store, and a few other places, I've managed to procure 14 boxes.  So far tonight, I've filled two, but it's only 10:30, so I have time!  I also traded some books for $33 of store credit at a used bookstore beside the thrift store that will soon inherit some wine glasses, bowls, and decor I've outgrown.  This packing-n-purging thing is going really well.

By the way, if anyone was wondering the outcome of last night's quandry, I was strongly encouraged to consider baking cookies by Mister... I really didn't need that much coaxing.

Plain Jane chocolate chip cookies, but boy were they good right out of the oven.  I got so into making these [wonderful] bizarre fusion cookies that I forgot how magnificent it is to bite into a gooey, melty chocolate chip cookie.  Don't be alarmed!  I've remembered.

As my own form of repentance or a spectacular display of irony, tonight I made Pasta Con Broccoli from Appetite for Reduction.  Those cookies are the reason cookbooks like this must exist.

It was delightful, just like last time, although the broccoli got a little mushier than I wanted it to be and I really feel like 1/4 cup of sliced garlic should have a more obvious contribution to the meal.  Perhaps I've been spoiled by the bite of raw garlic in my recent recipe testing, but I could barely tell there was garlic at all!

Anyway, the broccoli got mushy because I let it steam too long while I was trying to clear the table for dinner.  Putting 14 boxes at the table seemed like a good idea when I was bringing them all home...

I think the hardest part of, well, anything, is starting.  Just like I always have trouble deciding which recipe to make first when I have a fresh menu, I had more than a small amount of trouble trying to figure out where to start packing.  Obviously, I would start with things I use infrequently and as the next 16 days progress, I'll move closer to the things I use regularly.  Two weeks from now we will absolutely be eating from takeout containers.

Finally, I decided the most logical place to start was by packing the things I never ever use.  Also, there is something in the restaurant downstairs that vibrates sometimes and causes these beautiful teacups to make very annoying clattering noises.

This is one of those family heirloom stories - I have very few of them, so I cherish those I have.  Aside from the rightmost teacup, these teacups (and the ones in the first picture) have been passed from my mother's mother to her, and from her to me.  As a result of my love of these pretty things, my dear friend and my mother-in-law are helping me to build my collection.  The rightmost teacup in this picture was a Christmas gift from my friend back when I lived in my ghetto apartment.  She gave me another one this year and my husband's mother has given me teacups the last two years for Christmas; for my bridal shower, she gave me a whole tea-set, including the teapot, creamer, and sugar bowl.

This "shot glass" is 108 years old.  You may or may not be able to see in the picture that it is cut crystal, with red tint and two thin gold bands bordering the white stripe in the middle.  I have four and I cherish them - they are what is left of six original glasses with a small crystal pitcher that I inherited from my father's father when they were almost exactly 100 years old.  The reason I know their precise age is because they were apparently a "parting gift" at the 1903 Republican National Convention.  My grandfather was born in 1913, so although I inherited them from him, he must have inherited them from his father.

I love old things.  My design ethic is completely bizarre and I'm looking forward to seeing how it plays out in the new home (where I'll actually have space to decorate and design).  I admire the sterility and order of modern design; as I believe I've mentioned once or twice, I am completely in love with IKEA and have no issue designing my home to look like their catalogs (I've already begun plotting my kitchen improvements for the new place).  On the other hand, I adore old things and the aesthetic of antiques.  I have very Victorian leanings, but dear heavens does that create clutter!  I love my grandmother-mother's teacups and my grandfather's souvenir shot glasses (I'm pretty sure they're actually stemless cordials) because they link me to a far off past and join me to my family in a quiet, subtle way.

Speaking of subtle, I think the last sip of my wine is the quiet prompt to get back to packing.  I think we'll do platters and plates next.  See you tomorrow!

a menu for Mister (+1)

With some favorite cookbooks nearby for inspiration, I made Mister a present last night: his very own menu.  I put my mind to making a whole week of meals that are Mister-approved: pasta, Italian-inspired, our favorite rice-n-beans recipe, and the chickpea stew that never stops being a near-existential experience.  I was so pleased with myself by the time I got to the end that I interrupted Mister at his computer to proudly display my masterpiece; he was thrilled and recognized that I did it just for him.  Here is Mister's Menu:

1. Penne with Roasted Red Pepper Marinara Sauce from Vegan Italiano.

2. Chickpea Stew with Fried Polenta from Vegetarian Times Complete Cookbook.  I have managed to hold off temptation for a few weeks, but now it is time to make this hearty, satisfying dinner and experience some mid-winter zen.

3. Seitan Cacciatore from The Accidental Vegan.

4. Cajun Red Beans and Rice, also from The Accidental Vegan but with a twist this time... you'll just have to wait and see.

5. Lemony Garlic Chickpea Patties from Vegan on the Cheap, served with Greek-seasoned roasted potatoes.  They're like big falafel I get to use my burger press to make; best of all worlds, especially with the potatoes.

6. Pasta Con Broccoli from Appetite for Reduction.  Yes, I just made this a couple of weeks ago, but it's really good and Mister really enjoyed it.  I really enjoy having Italian pasta dishes that don't include red sauce once in a while.  Unfortunately, it appears that since we've overcome our Spinach Famine, we are now experiencing a vegetable broth drought.  There was not a single drop to be found in Superfresh or Essene, which means at some point this week, I'll have to try Whole Foods.

Tonight, I asked Mister what he wanted me to make first and I didn't have any trouble getting a response.  In my brain, I had silently placed a bet with myself that he would start the week with the very first item on the menu, because although he loves the whole menu, I think he'd be most enthusiastic about simple pasta with red sauce.

I won!  He absolutely chose Penne with Roasted Red Pepper Marinara Sauce to start the week.  I made a few tweaks to the sauce; despite many Americans finding dozens of creative ways to avoid adding salt to their diets, I was very surprised that the recipe I followed didn't add even a little bitty pinch of salt, so I took it upon myself to "write in" about a teaspoon.  Also, to balance out the oregano that I really had to pep myself up to add, I sprinkled in a generous teaspoon of marjoram and a glug of balsamic vinegar.  I don't normally simmer my marinara as long as I did tonight, but ice cold water takes longer to bring to boiling (more in a minute).  I'm glad I did, though, because at the beginning, the sauce was watery and thin, but after about 30 minutes of simmering, uncovered, it had reduced enough to be slightly more opaque.

As you can see, I also subbed rotini primavera for the penne in the title.  I don't know what's so special about rotini primavera, but it's the only dried pasta I can find in a 12 oz box - even regular rotini is 16 oz.  This was actually a much bigger decision than it needed to be due to the conversation in my head:

"I only need 12 oz."
"But I can get 16 oz for the same price, making this the greater value."
"We might be moving soon and I don't want to pack a bunch of half-used boxes of pasta."

Eventually, it was that line of logic that deposited the smaller box of pasta (for the same price) into my basket.

So, when I got up this morning, I went to the coffeemaker, presuming to make coffee and learned something.  I'm happy to learn something new every day, but I do think sometimes it's a little too early to start the lessons.  Here's what I learned before coffee or tea or breakfast: we take for granted that when we pop the faucet, water will come pouring out of the nozzle.  This is not always true.  This was not true in my home this morning.  I flipped up the magic wand that would fill my waiting coffee pitcher with water to make Mister's favorite beverage and nothing happened.  Kind of like when I turned the key to my car's ignition on the morning of my wedding, but that's another story from another time.

Apparently, the water pipes froze in our single-digit temps last night and it took until late afternoon to get the cold water back.  There's still no hot water, which is why I'm sitting at my computer typing away instead of cleaning up the huge mess I made of the kitchen even though I knew there was no hot water.  A few times, during the baking process (yes, baking...that's the +1) I had to rinse my hands off.  Let me tell you what it felt like: Right now, the temperature in Philadelphia is 17 degrees Fahrenheit with a "real feel" of only 8 degrees.  The water coming out of my tap feels the way it would feel if you could turn Outside into liquid form and pump it through some pipes.  It was like rinsing my hands under melting ice cubes.  I don't see this improving any time soon, either, since tonight's low is also in the single-digits (I've already washed the apple I'm having with tomorrow's breakfast because I don't think there will be water in the morning).

If you ask me, all this cold is perfect weather for baking...

Cinnamon-Date Scones

So, I cranked up my oven, pushed my sleeves up at least halfway to my elbows, and tied on my apron to make a good old-fashioned flour mess in my kitchen.  The minute I saw the recipe, waiting to be tested for the upcoming UV2 cookbook for which I have the privilege of testing, I knew I'd have to jump on it before everyone else did.

I haven't had a date in years.  Wait - that didn't come out the way I meant it.  The last time I ate a date, I was living in my parents' house and my aunt was still married to my uncle.  I remember this because every Christmas, when she came to visit with us and brought her two beautiful collies, she also brought a Hickory Farms gift box full to overflowing with edible treasures: summer sausage, port wine cheese, gobs of these little hard candies dressed up in wrappers that looked like strawberries, and dates.  They were so strange and rare that although my mother can attest to what a picky child I was, I couldn't resist trying the dates and I found that I liked them very much.

Unfortunately, back in the real world, they're a little expensive to be a regular part of my cupboard neighborhood, but I decided no amount of expense would prevent me from picking up just enough for this recipe.  In the searching, I discovered that they aren't as expensive in some places as they are in others... and that brought me joy.

so did this

With a rustic, crunchy outside but a soft and cupcake-like interior, these scones will find their way to our table again.  I envision us, sitting at the table beside the big, bright window in what I hope is our next home, celebrating the first snowfall in our new home by brewing a pot of tea or coffee and sharing a pile of these sweeties.  Throughout a soft and not-too-sweet body, there are little bites of sweet, moist dates, adding a little wow factor to what would be a perfectly palatable scone with just the cinnamon.  Maybe on a future making, I will include a scant handful of cinnamon chips or sprinkle the tops with coarse cinnamon sugar for a little extra oomph.

Trust me, folks - you can't wait until this cookbook hits the shelves.