Dammit, I HATE cutting myself!
Where can I take a class on knife skills?
Would a vegan still eat the food if they cut their finger and bled on the food?
Showing posts with label vegan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label vegan. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Grouse of the Day: Bloodletting
Dammit, I HATE cutting myself!
Where can I take a class on knife skills?
Would a vegan still eat the food if they cut their finger and bled on the food?
Non-Traditional Moroccan Dinner
I am basing my recipe on several Moroccan dishes that I've read on epicurious.com, the back of the Fantastic Foods cous-cous box, and my own American Family Cookbook. This is a major deviation from all those sources, but it utilizes foods that are commonly found in my pantry/fridge, and which I think are also commonly found in most people's kitchens too (at least in summer!). I hope you like it!
cous-cous, cooked with veggie stock (or chicken stock) instead of water, enough for 4 people
1 yellow bell pepper, diced
1 large shallot, diced
1 head broccoli, diced
1 small zucchini, diced
1 cup chopped baby carrots
1 can chick peas, drained
1/4 cup sultanas or golden raisins
olive oil
1/4 c. white wine
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/8 tsp. cayenne pepper
1/4 tsp. cumin powder
salt
1/4 tsp. black pepper
Make cous-cous according to package directions, substituting stock for water (to add flavor). In a separate pan, saute shallot in olive oil about 5 minutes. Add carrot, broccoli, and zucchini. Saute till broccoli turns bright green but not soft (about 4 mins) and add white wine as necessary to keep pan moist. Add spices slowly, mixing continuously with a wooden spoon.
Slowly add cous-cous to this pan in batches, about 1/2 cup at a time. Add more stock to keep everything moist, and adjust seasonings as needed. You may need more cinnamon and cumin, depending on how intense you like it. Toss all ingredients well, and mound on plate. Garnish with parsley, mint, or chopped chive.
You can also grill chicken breast, seasoned with cinnamon and cumin, and add diced to this dish, or serve whole on the side.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Um, oops...
We had our neighbors over for dinner last night, and I was excited. I am primarily friends with the woman, whom I'll call Jane. She is currently a stay-at-home mom who is taking a break from a career in architecture, and is very smart, laid-back, and funny. She isn't obsessed, as many moms are, with the minutia of her son's life: she doesn't regale me with anecdotes about his feeding or bowel movements, doesn't want to compare diaper rash cream or trade pregnancy and nursing stories. It's a relief! We chat at length when we run into each other in the laundry room, gab on the phone fairly frequently, and have made many plans to go out for strolls together, plans which are always cancelled due to our kids' erratic nap schedules. I have only barely met her husband "Dave," but he seems pleasant and nice. Their son is a cute 7 month old who is cheerful and bouncy, a good playmate for my 15 month old curious and social daughter. I wanted to get to know them as a family, so last week I invited them all over for dinner.
I made the easiest thing I could think of, because it was a mid-week meal -- marinated flank steak with rice and a cold chopped salad. It takes about 20 minutes total to prep, 10 minutes to cook, and is a perennial crowd pleaser. Jane and Dave brought wine and dessert. Everyone sat down and talked comfortably together while the babies played on the floor, and my husband more or less held up our side of the conversation while I buzzed back and forth between the living room and kitchen, bringing out the cheese and bread, opening the wine, etc. It's the sacrifice a host must make, missing out on much of the conversation in favor of making sure the plates get to the table, I suppose. At any rate, I entirely missed the part where Dave explained what he did for a living, but I figured my husband would catch me up on everything when the night was over.
When we sat down to dinner, the conversation turned to our children's eating habits and food preferences, and how they relate to parental eating. We joked about their son becoming a vegan, and how horrible that would be, since both Jane and Dave are enthusiastic (though quite slim!) omnivores who eagerly took second helpings of my steak. I then upped the ante by saying, "which would be worse, your son becoming a vegan or a Republican?" Jane hesitated, and said, "well, I really love meat, so..." I continued on to say something else vague about how awful I think Republicans are, along the lines of vegans only restricting themselves while Republicans stick their noses into everyone else's lives and ruin it for everyone. There was some hemming hawing, mostly about how delicious meat is, and then my husband turned the conversation more fully onto food, expounding on various meats and fish he loves and would not want to give up.
Later, after a lovely, creamy pannacotta and offers to help us clean up, they took their son home to bed, and my husband and I sat down to digest and procrastinate. He gently poked me in the ribs and said, "Nice one about Republicans." I was mystified and gave him a confused look. He explained: "Dave went to a famously conservative college, and works for a major financial firm managing really rich people's money. Do you think he might be a Republican?"
Oh shit...
I really hope that I didn't offend them. I don't think that all Republicans are evil, just the ones who run for political office. In fact, in my experience, most people I know who claim to be Republicans are embarrassed by their party's leaders, and since New York is so liberal, I tend to assume that most people feel similarly to me about the Republican party.
But I guess that's why they say Never assume. It makes an ass our of you and me. I guess I'll find out if they hate me if Jane starts ignoring my calls!
I made the easiest thing I could think of, because it was a mid-week meal -- marinated flank steak with rice and a cold chopped salad. It takes about 20 minutes total to prep, 10 minutes to cook, and is a perennial crowd pleaser. Jane and Dave brought wine and dessert. Everyone sat down and talked comfortably together while the babies played on the floor, and my husband more or less held up our side of the conversation while I buzzed back and forth between the living room and kitchen, bringing out the cheese and bread, opening the wine, etc. It's the sacrifice a host must make, missing out on much of the conversation in favor of making sure the plates get to the table, I suppose. At any rate, I entirely missed the part where Dave explained what he did for a living, but I figured my husband would catch me up on everything when the night was over.
When we sat down to dinner, the conversation turned to our children's eating habits and food preferences, and how they relate to parental eating. We joked about their son becoming a vegan, and how horrible that would be, since both Jane and Dave are enthusiastic (though quite slim!) omnivores who eagerly took second helpings of my steak. I then upped the ante by saying, "which would be worse, your son becoming a vegan or a Republican?" Jane hesitated, and said, "well, I really love meat, so..." I continued on to say something else vague about how awful I think Republicans are, along the lines of vegans only restricting themselves while Republicans stick their noses into everyone else's lives and ruin it for everyone. There was some hemming hawing, mostly about how delicious meat is, and then my husband turned the conversation more fully onto food, expounding on various meats and fish he loves and would not want to give up.
Later, after a lovely, creamy pannacotta and offers to help us clean up, they took their son home to bed, and my husband and I sat down to digest and procrastinate. He gently poked me in the ribs and said, "Nice one about Republicans." I was mystified and gave him a confused look. He explained: "Dave went to a famously conservative college, and works for a major financial firm managing really rich people's money. Do you think he might be a Republican?"
Oh shit...
I really hope that I didn't offend them. I don't think that all Republicans are evil, just the ones who run for political office. In fact, in my experience, most people I know who claim to be Republicans are embarrassed by their party's leaders, and since New York is so liberal, I tend to assume that most people feel similarly to me about the Republican party.
But I guess that's why they say Never assume. It makes an ass our of you and me. I guess I'll find out if they hate me if Jane starts ignoring my calls!
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Veganism, Mangoes, and a Truce
I recently offered to cook a meal for a dear friend of mine who recently lost her mind and gave up ALL animal products. She has been vegetarian for years, and I have many other friends who are also vegetarians -- indeed, for a few self-righteous years in college I myself was a strict vegetarian. Now, however, she is vegan, and that posed a serious challenge to me as a cook. I understand the ethical and moral issues behind the decision to give up meat, fish and poultry. I see the hypocracy inherent in many people's "don't kill the cute animals, but gimme a steak" version of animal rights. I agree with the reasoning behind avoiding the consumption of creatures that have been depleted to near-extinction, and/or whose acquisition harms the planet. I am horrified by the beef industry's inhumane and unsanitary killing practices, and am pained at the idea of debeaked chickens. I am waiting breathlessly for someone to invent in vitro fur so I can finally wear a gorgeous coat without being responsible for the death of many furry beasts. I get it; I get it!
However, anyone who knows me is aware of my burning antipathy for vegans (no bacon I can understand, but no eggs? no butter? no CHEESE? what a pain in the ass! how inconvenient for everyone else! what disappointing baked goods!) and can understand the trepidation with which I approached my culinary hurdle. Initially I thought, "shit, I've got to make tofu and veggies over pasta or rice; how boring." I turned to The Artful Vegan, the cookbook from the famed Millennium restaurant in San Francisco, and discarded it based on the intricacy of the recipes and the amount of time each would take. I leafed through several Indian and Thai cookbooks and drew the same conclusion: buying all the necessary ingredients that I don't have on hand would put me in the poorhouse. I made a mental run-through of all the recipes I know by heart, pondering what proteins I could omit or substitute with tofu or beans, and rejected all possibilities as dull or yucky. Finally I checked in with an old friend: Molly Katzen. Her Moosewood Cookbook is one that I've had since college (and those bygone veggie days), and it has always served me well. The recipes are simple, rich, and delicious. She includes handy notes about prep and cooking times, and also cute little drawings of what the food should approximately look like.
She offered a colorful little salad composed of cucumber, mango, and red bell pepper seasoned with lemon and lime juices, a little brown sugar (unnecessary, in my opinion), and garnished with plenty of chopped cilantro. It was divine! A perfect cold summer salad. But there was still no protein for this meal. I figured I would make my old standby: lightly sauteed chopped veggies and tofu with a sauce of almond butter, coconut milk and soy sauce over soba noodles. It's tasty, easy, time-consuming (all the chopping), and I'm kind of tired of it. But it works.
Then my husband made me leave the house. It was a good idea, but I needed my coffee. He took me to Ozzie's, a coffee shop on our corner that serves iced hazelnut coffee and they don't charge extra for soy milk (see? I don't always drink cowmilk!). He walked me to the park to watch our pugs frolic with other leashless doggies. Finally, we all headed over to the greenmarket at Grand Army Plaza here in Park Slope in hopes of finding inspiration. The bok choy was wormy, the baked goods looked a bit soggy in the muggy weather, and the berries were totally overpriced (we bought some blueberries anyway). However, we did chance upon squash blossoms, which I have had only rarely, and view as a somewhat flavorless but visually appealing oddity. My husband, however, grew up in the Bay area with a father whose idol was Julia Child; he snapped up a large box of the blooms with alacrity and proclaimed, "here's our main course." I looked at him dubiously, but as I am used to indulging him, I said nothing.
He then dropped me and the baby off at home for naps (thank god for air conditioning) and headed back out to the local bodegas. He returned with some lovely, bell shaped pink flowers for me, and a creamy tofu-based spinach-herb spread that tasted a bit like those sour cream-based dips you use for crudite platters, but was thick like cream cheese. I was surprised -- most tofu based faux cheese products taste rather plastic-y or have a weird slimy texture, but this was pretty good. He said that he was planning to stuff the blossoms with the spread, batter them, and then fry them, based on a chevre stuffing and egg batter recipe that his dad had made years ago. I wouldn't have been fooled in a blind tasting, but I figured that as an ingredient in a bigger dish rather than the main flavor, it would be quite nice. After a brief cool-down in front of the a/c, we threw a bottle of chardonnay into the fridge and got to work.
My hubby made a light batter of rice flour, wheat flour, and club soda with which he coated the tofu spread-stuffed squash blossoms, and deep fried them in veggie oil. We laid several fritters on top of homemade bruschetta: lightly toasted sourdough bread rubbed with raw garlic, and heaped with diced tomato, onion, garlic, and basil tossed in a drizzle of extra virgin olive oil and sprinkled with coarse sea salt. Served with the bright orange, red, and green salad and a deep glass of chilled chard, we feasted until we were stuffed. My vegan friend was impressed, I was relieved, and all three of us were thrilled by the gooey-inside, crispy-outside squash blossoms. If only all vegan fare were this exciting, fresh, and tasty, I might even consider ditching cheese myself....
Nah!
However, anyone who knows me is aware of my burning antipathy for vegans (no bacon I can understand, but no eggs? no butter? no CHEESE? what a pain in the ass! how inconvenient for everyone else! what disappointing baked goods!) and can understand the trepidation with which I approached my culinary hurdle. Initially I thought, "shit, I've got to make tofu and veggies over pasta or rice; how boring." I turned to The Artful Vegan, the cookbook from the famed Millennium restaurant in San Francisco, and discarded it based on the intricacy of the recipes and the amount of time each would take. I leafed through several Indian and Thai cookbooks and drew the same conclusion: buying all the necessary ingredients that I don't have on hand would put me in the poorhouse. I made a mental run-through of all the recipes I know by heart, pondering what proteins I could omit or substitute with tofu or beans, and rejected all possibilities as dull or yucky. Finally I checked in with an old friend: Molly Katzen. Her Moosewood Cookbook is one that I've had since college (and those bygone veggie days), and it has always served me well. The recipes are simple, rich, and delicious. She includes handy notes about prep and cooking times, and also cute little drawings of what the food should approximately look like.
She offered a colorful little salad composed of cucumber, mango, and red bell pepper seasoned with lemon and lime juices, a little brown sugar (unnecessary, in my opinion), and garnished with plenty of chopped cilantro. It was divine! A perfect cold summer salad. But there was still no protein for this meal. I figured I would make my old standby: lightly sauteed chopped veggies and tofu with a sauce of almond butter, coconut milk and soy sauce over soba noodles. It's tasty, easy, time-consuming (all the chopping), and I'm kind of tired of it. But it works.
Then my husband made me leave the house. It was a good idea, but I needed my coffee. He took me to Ozzie's, a coffee shop on our corner that serves iced hazelnut coffee and they don't charge extra for soy milk (see? I don't always drink cowmilk!). He walked me to the park to watch our pugs frolic with other leashless doggies. Finally, we all headed over to the greenmarket at Grand Army Plaza here in Park Slope in hopes of finding inspiration. The bok choy was wormy, the baked goods looked a bit soggy in the muggy weather, and the berries were totally overpriced (we bought some blueberries anyway). However, we did chance upon squash blossoms, which I have had only rarely, and view as a somewhat flavorless but visually appealing oddity. My husband, however, grew up in the Bay area with a father whose idol was Julia Child; he snapped up a large box of the blooms with alacrity and proclaimed, "here's our main course." I looked at him dubiously, but as I am used to indulging him, I said nothing.
He then dropped me and the baby off at home for naps (thank god for air conditioning) and headed back out to the local bodegas. He returned with some lovely, bell shaped pink flowers for me, and a creamy tofu-based spinach-herb spread that tasted a bit like those sour cream-based dips you use for crudite platters, but was thick like cream cheese. I was surprised -- most tofu based faux cheese products taste rather plastic-y or have a weird slimy texture, but this was pretty good. He said that he was planning to stuff the blossoms with the spread, batter them, and then fry them, based on a chevre stuffing and egg batter recipe that his dad had made years ago. I wouldn't have been fooled in a blind tasting, but I figured that as an ingredient in a bigger dish rather than the main flavor, it would be quite nice. After a brief cool-down in front of the a/c, we threw a bottle of chardonnay into the fridge and got to work.
My hubby made a light batter of rice flour, wheat flour, and club soda with which he coated the tofu spread-stuffed squash blossoms, and deep fried them in veggie oil. We laid several fritters on top of homemade bruschetta: lightly toasted sourdough bread rubbed with raw garlic, and heaped with diced tomato, onion, garlic, and basil tossed in a drizzle of extra virgin olive oil and sprinkled with coarse sea salt. Served with the bright orange, red, and green salad and a deep glass of chilled chard, we feasted until we were stuffed. My vegan friend was impressed, I was relieved, and all three of us were thrilled by the gooey-inside, crispy-outside squash blossoms. If only all vegan fare were this exciting, fresh, and tasty, I might even consider ditching cheese myself....
Nah!
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