Diet, Dessert and Dogs

Well, it’s certainly been a poster week for “Beginning of the Summer Semester” at the college:  long lineups outside the Chair’s office (but really, doesn’t it sound better as “Office Chairs”?), students transferring from one class to the next, questions, emails; scheduling changes so speedy that students barely have time to check their timetables before they’re registered in a new course. Yep, it’s kept me on my toes, with nary a minute extra to indulge my extra-curricular activities (really, now! Get those minds out of the gutter!). Activities such as writing this blog.  (Oh, and to all my students this term: Hi, Guys!)

Taking part in my Total Health course hasn’t actually helped much with the dearth of spare time, either.  Now, don’t get me wrong; I am loving this course, and it’s kept me on the Path of Righteous Eating for the past 2-1/2 weeks (and I must admit, I am feeling MUCH more energetic and lighter so far). 

Apart from our homework (see the Coda at the end of the post), the course requires that one prepare and eat healthy food.  No, I mean ÜBER healthy food–the type I learned at nutrition school:  nothing pre-packaged, nothing processed, nothing with chemicals, additives, sugar, wheat (or even flour, if I’m going to be really strict about it), nothing alcoholic, and, perhaps most difficult of all, nothing chocolate.  (Yep, that’s right; those muffins and cupcakes I wrote about last time?  Verboten.  Banned. Prohibited. Technically not allowed.  So was it lack of willpower or courageous defiance that prompted me to bake them?  I’ll let you be the judge.) 

What this directive translates to, for the most part, is spending more time in the kitchen.  More time peeling parsnips, more time scooping seeds out of butternut squash, more time cutting leaves from collard stems, more time dicing onions, more time chopping, slicing, sautéeing, stirring, simmering, pouring, spreading, baking, cutting.  The only part that doesn’t take more time is eating.

Well, for those of you who’ve been visiting this blog for a while, you may have inferred that, when it comes to cooking, I’m all about “easy.”  As much as I relish veggies, whole grains, dried beans or legumes and raw nuts and seeds, I am less than enthusiastic about the time required to transform those raw materials into something worth its all-natural, unrefined, organic, hand-harvested, Artisanal Celtic sea salt.

The other night, having spent the day on campus, I got home a little later than ususal.  I was hungry. In fact, I was ready to eat dinner right that very minute.  But dinner, unfortunately, was not ready for me.  Perusing the contents of the fridge and considering what I could throw together that would satisfy both me and the HH, I came up with this lovely millet and pepper dish. 

My health course has been highlighting gluten-free grains, and millet is a definite winner in that category.  Great for heart health and (like all whole grains) ample in fiber, millet also offers antioxidant properties at par with, or superior to, many fruits and vegetables (such as helping prevent breast cancer, Type II diabetes, asthma or postmenopausal symptoms).  Finally, it’s generally considered to be the “most alkaline” of whole grains, meaning that it supports the natural pH (acid-alkaline) balance in our blood.

For most of you, this would likely serve as a sidekick to a separate main attraction (whether tofu, tempeh, meat, or whatever).  For me, it ended up as the entire meal, though I’d caution that this really isn’t protein-rich enough to use that way very often. 

The best part was that it came together quickly, and still tasted great.  The combination of mild curry and coconut milk adds an Asian undertone to the dish, complimented by the sweetness in the red peppers.  When the veggies are combined in a casserole dish with the grain, the millet becomes imbued with a lovely golden color that’s a great visual counterpoint to the red.  Pretty to look at, pleasingly aromatic and ready in a flash–it’s the perfect date side dish!

With its peppers and fresh basil, this is a great submission to Kalyn’s Weekend Herb Blogging event, started at Kalyn’s Kitchen and this week hosted by Mediterranean Cooking in Alaska.

Easy Millet and Red Pepper Pilaf

From start to finish, this dish can be ready in about 20 minutes.  It’s also great the next day.

1 cup (250 ml.) vegetable broth

1/2 cup (125 ml.) coconut milk

1 Tbsp. (15 ml.) extra virgin olive oil

1 large onion, diced

2 cloves garlic, minced

2 large red peppers, cored, seeded and chopped

3 Tbsp. (45 ml.) fresh basil leaves, chopped

1 small tomato, diced

1 tsp. (5 ml.) mild curry powder (or more, to taste)

1/2 tsp. (2.5 ml.) ground coriander

Preheat oven to 350F (180C).  Grease a large casserole or spray with nonstick coating.

In a medium-sized pot, combine the broth and coconut milk, and bring just to the boil over medium heat.  Add the millet, lower the heat to a simmer, cover and cook for 20 minutes, until the millet is soft and most of the liquid is absorbed (if it’s not ready after 20 minutes, continue to cook for 5 minutes at a time and check until done).

Meanwhile, in a large skillet, heat the oil over medium heat.  Add the onion and garlic, and sauté for 2 minutes.  Add the remaining ingredients, stirring to coat the veggies with the spices, and continue to cook another 5-10 minutes, until onion is soft. 

Stir the veggies into the millet mixture and turn into the casserole.  Bake until heated through and slightly browned on top, 20-25 minutes.  Serves two as a main course or 3 as a side dish. May be frozen.

Total Health Coda: This week’s lesson involved, once again, eating mindfully.  We actually did the “eating a raisin” meditation that I mentioned in a previous post.  The major insight for me, though, was delivered through an exercise we did at the end of the class (after we’d sampled at least four delectable, healthy dishes).  We were asked to tune in to our bodies to seek any lingering sense of hunger, and, if so, to determine where it resided.  Many in the class identified a metaphorical “hunger,” somewhere in the chest, or vicinity of the heart.  As the teacher remarked, “You may feel as if you’ve eaten enough, yet still feel hungry.”  In other words, this is clearly not a hunger for food per se. 

For some reason, I found this realization revelatory:  What? You mean it’s okay to just feel hungry, and not do anything about it? You don’t have to eat when you feel that way?  Of course, I’d encountered similar sentiments over the years in books, on websites, or at lectures, but somehow honing in on the exact spot of the “hunger” made it abundantly clear that eating, in so many cases, is used to satisfy emotional yearning as well as physical appetite.

[That's our little Vanilla, in the middle]

So, I heard somewhere that it’s hockey season now.  Oh, don’t look so surprised: despite having been raised in Montreal (a hockey town if ever there was one), I am indifferent to the sticks-and-pucks revelry. Personally, I’d rather read about the latest face-off between, say, brownies and blondies than between the Habs and the Flyers.

In fact, I can’t say that I’m too interested in any team sports–or, come to think of it, any sports at all. Is it any wonder?  Perpetually the “anchor” in tug-of-war; too uncoordinated to hit a baseball with a screen door; lacking even the modicum of balance necessary for hockey (though I did go skating, once, when I was about 15, soley to impress a guy I had a crush on.  Oh, I made a lasting impression, all right–somewhere on the upper right thigh, just where my skate sliced through the flesh, if memory serves.)

This is not to imply that I don’t enjoy a good competition with myself every now and again, in a constant effort to improve on my own “personal best.” (And speaking of competitions, I’ve just gotta say it: time to wave goodbye to Jason Castro, don’t you think?). I’m forever asking questions like, “Can I increase my speed on the treadmill this week?”  “Can I accomplish a bicep curl with a 15-pound weight?”  “Can I use up every single veggie from our weekly organic box?” “Can I manage to sweep my kitchen floor every day three times a week monthly before the dust bunnies take up permanent residence on the living room couch?”–and so on.

(”You know, Mum, we’d be happy to chase those bunnies for you.  And while we’re on the subject, why are they allowed on the couch when we’re not?”)

As far as I’m concerned, a little healthy competition in the kitchen can only be a good thing. In order to improve a recipe-in-progress, I might tinker with it 10 or a dozen times to get it right, often in a single day (why, yes, it’s true: I don’t have anything better to do!). Is the muffin better with agave or maple syrup?–let’s bake a new batch and find out!  Should I use barley flour or oat in the apple bars?–only another round of baking will tell! Can the cashew cookies stand up to cardamom, or would ginger be better?–let’s test ‘em out and see!

This somewhat peculiar proclivity in the kitchen was the impetus behind a strange experiment last week, one I conducted after receiving my copy of Carole Walter’s James Beard Award-winning cookbook, Great Coffee Cakes, Sticky Buns, Muffins & More, in the mail. As some of you may recall, my recipe for Maple-Walnut cookies won the book in a recent Cookthink Root Source Challenge for recipes based on maple syrup. (Hmm.  Yes, I suppose that made me “competitive,” though of course not in the athletic sense.)

As soon as I ripped open the package, I was charmed by the clean, clear layout, the stunning full-color photographs and the innovative, precisely written recipes (200 of them!). And even though it’s filled with traditional recipes with conventional ingredients (think eggs, milk, butter, etc.), the book focuses on homey, classic treats, which are fairly easily adaptable to NAG principles.

Virtually everything in the book appealed to me, from the Vanilla Bean Poundcake to the Irish Whiskey Cake to the Apricot and Dried Pineapple Muffins to the Fig and Walnut Loaf.  Lest you think the book is partial to goodies baked in pans, Walter also includes recipes for cookies, bars, biscuits, strudel, danish, buns and braids–plus many more treats shaped by hand.

My gaze lit upon a recipe called “Favorite Vanilla Muffins.” Vanilla muffins?  Sure, I’d sampled many a vanilla cake in my time, but never a vanilla muffin. With its denser, moister texture, might a muffin be a better foundation to showcase the fragrant, floral tones of pure vanilla extract? A competition was in order!

I thought about the differences between the two.  Like the Olson twins (though of course, in this case, actually connected to food), muffins and cupcakes are the same, but different.  Both are single-serving renditions of a larger baked good (loaf or cake); both sport domed tops, flat bottoms and angled sides often encased in frilly paper liners. To muddy the batters even further, both may (but are not required to) contain chopped fruits, nuts, or chocolate.

A few Googled pages later, I discovered that the cupcake versus muffin debate was already in full swing among bloggers and other writers (two good sources are recipezaar’s concise take on the issue, and the more detailed viewpoint on Curious Foodie’s blog).

How, I wondered, would that Favorite Vanilla Muffin stand up against its cakey counterpart? I decided to bake one of each (both using my adaptations of Walter’s recipes) and compare the results. Granted, my creations (no matter how delectable) would never be exactly as Walter intended; but I was okay with that. I chose a Classic Sour Cream Cinnamon and Nut Coffee Cake (without the cinnamon/nut filling) for my cupcake, mostly because, like the muffin recipe, it called for sour cream (and I needed to use up the tofu-based batch I’d be concocting). That would leave me with one vanilla; two vanilla (any more than that and we’d have the unfortunate Milli Vanilla).

[Coffeecake cupcake--with its intended filling. Get a load of that cinnamon-pecan swirl!]

Which won the competition? As expected, the muffins were heavier and denser. In fact, apart from the shape, they were a different animal entirely. For some reason, in these particular muffins, the vanilla essence proclaimed its presence assertively, even before you bit into the soft, moist interior; the sweet, floral aroma fairly radiates. And even though I knew my “sour cream” was soy-based, there was an incredible richness to these muffins that rendered them filling and satisfying; no need for fruit or fillers.

The cupcakes, for their part, were equally delectable.  Undisputably more delicate with a tender crumb, the cakes were lighter both in texture and color. The vanilla essence here was definitely noticeable as well, though in a more understated fashion.  Like pitting Ella against Diana singing Cole Porter classics: each transformed the outcome into something unique and exceptional, though clearly hailing from the same original concept.

So, in the end, it was a tie.  Two winners–two delicious baked goods to eat.  Everybody wins!

Since the recipes highlight vanilla, I thought this would be a perfect entry for the Master Baker Challenge, hosted by Master Baker.

Vanilla Muffins and Cinnamon-Pecan Cupcakes (inspired by recipes in Carole Walter’s Great Coffee Cakes, Sticky Buns, Muffins & More)

 [Left to Right: Cinnamon-Pecan Coffeecake Cupcake; Vanilla Muffin; Vanilla Muffin with Cashew-Cardamom variation]

For the “Sour Cream” (makes enough for one batch of each, muffins and cupcakes):

12 oz. (350 g.) firm silken tofu, such as Mori-Nu

2 tsp. (10 ml.) agave nectar

3 Tbsp. (45 ml.) lemon juice

2 Tbsp. (30 ml.) smooth cashew butter

Blend all ingredients in a food processor or blender, until perfectly smooth.

For the Vanilla Muffins:

1/2 cup (125 ml.) “sour cream” (half the batch)

3 Tbsp. (45 ml.) coconut butter, melted

1 Tbsp. (15 ml.)  pure vanilla extract

1/2 cup plus 2 Tbsp. (150 ml.) agave nectar

2 tsp. (10 ml.) Salba (ground chia seeds)

1 tsp. (5 ml.) apple cider vinegar

1-1/2 cups (220 g.) light spelt flour

1 tsp. (5 ml.) baking powder

1/2 tsp. sea salt

1/2 tsp. baking soda

Preheat oven to 350F (180C).  Line 9 muffin cups with paper liners for large muffins, or 12 cups for smaller muffins, or spray with nonstick spray.

In a medium sized bowl, combine the sour cream and melted coconut butter; whisk until well incorporated.  Whisk in the vanilla, agave nectar, salba and vinegar and set aside.

In a larger bowl, sift the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.  Stir the wet ingredients into the dry until well moistened (don’t worry if there are a few small dry spots here and there).

Using a scoop or large spoon, fill cups 3/4 full for larger muffins or 2/3 full for smaller muffins. Bake in preheated oven 20-25 minutes, rotating pan halfway through, until a tester inserted in center comes out clean.  Cool five minutes in pan before removing to cooling rack.  These freeze well.

Cashew-Cardamom variation:  Mix together 1/2 cup (125 ml.) chopped cashews with 2 Tbsp. (15 ml.) Sucanat and 1/4 tsp. (2 ml.) cardamom. When ready to scoop the muffins, fill each cup halfway.  Top with a spoonful of the cashew mixture and cover with another spoon of batter.  Bake as above.

For the Cinnamon-Pecan Coffeecake Cupcakes:

1/2 cup (125 ml.) “sour cream” (half of the batch)

1/4 cup (60 ml.) sunflower or other light-tasting oil

1/2 cup (125 ml.) pure maple syrup

1 tsp. (5 ml.) Salba (ground chia seeds)

3 Tbsp. (45 ml.) water

1 tsp. pure vanilla extract

1 cup (140 g.) light spelt flour

1 tsp. (5 ml.) baking powder

1/2 tsp. (2.5 ml.) baking soda

1/4 tsp. (1.5 ml.) sea salt

Optional Cinnamon-Nut Filling:

1/2 cup chopped toasted pecans

2 Tbsp. (30 ml.) Sucanat

1/4 tsp. ground cinnamon

Preheat oven to 350 F (180C).  Line 6 muffin cups with paper liners for large cupcakes, or 8 cups for smaller cupcakes, or spray with nonstick spray.

In a medium sized bowl, combine the sour cream, oil, maple syrup, Salba, water, and vanilla until well mixed.  Set aside.

In a larger bowl, sift the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and sea salt.  Pour the wet mixture over the dry and whisk until well combined. 

Fill each muffin cup about half full. Top with about 1 Tbsp. (15 ml.) of the nut filling, then cover with more batter.  You can draw a knife through the mixture once if you like to create a little swirl inside (but not more than once, or the filling will become too blended with the batter). 

Bake the cupcakes in preheated oven for 25-35 minutes, until the tops are golden and a tester inserted in center comes out clean.  Allow to cool 5 minute before removing to a cooling rack.  These freeze well.

Sometimes, you just want to eat something now.  I’ve decided to offer a mini-post every once in a while, for a dish that comes together incredibly quickly, or else is so easy to make that no recipe is required.  Here’s today’s “Flash in the Pan.”

One of the advantages of having a little baking business as a sideline is that you can buy some ingredients in bulk, and save a little on the price of more expensive items (such as nuts or dried fruits) by purchasing them in 2-kilo or 5-kilo bags.

At the same time, one of the disadvantages of having a little baking business is that you end up with 1.8 kilos or 4.9 kilos of leftover bulk items, such as nuts or dried fruits, when no one happens to order baked goods that contain those ingredients, and they’re left languishing in huge plastic bins in your basement, and you sometimes have to throw them away, and they end up costing you more than if you’d just bought the regular size at the retail store (and your distress over that fact causes you to write really long sentences).

A few weeks ago, I noticed some dried cranberries that, clearly, had had better days.  They were perfectly servicable if scattered in muffins or cookies (they are, after all, already preserved by dehyrdation); but they were just a little too crisp on the edges for my taste, sporting that whitish, frosty patina that figs, dates, or other highly sweetened dried fruits seem to acquire when they’ve been sitting too long.  Worse, their rimed exterior reminded me too much of winter (the agony is still too close), so I knew I’d have to find another use for them–STAT.

“Hey!” I remarked to the HH, “I could make cranberry jam out of these!”

He stood and stared at me for a second, clearly flummoxed. “Um, wouldn’t that be just the same as cranberry sauce?” he asked.  Hmm.  The guy had a point.  And while I do enjoy an occasional daub of cranberry sauce at Thanksgiving, I don’t really care for it very much any other time of year. 

But the idea of cranberry jam did appeal to me. With sweet-tart berries and the right cooking method, I knew I could end up with something akin to raspberry or blueberry preserves, perfect for spreading, baking, or little gift jars.  

Since the cranberries were already sweetened (pretty much all dried cranberries are), I didn’t need to add anything more.  I simply popped the contents of my bin (about 2 cups) into a pot, covered with fresh orange juice, and brought to a simmer.  Then I let the mixture bubble, stirring every so often, until the cranberries had broken down and almost dissolved into a soft, gleaming crimson, spreadable preserve. 

One that bears absolutely no similarity to cranberry sauce, I might add.

The spread is perfect on muffins, scones, or even Quinoa-Oatmeal Croquettes for breakfast.  You could also mix this with a little spicy chili sauce for a great dipping sauce (try it with squares of Nut Roast–fantastic!).

Oh, and since it did, in the end, resemble that jam I was seeking, I’m submitting this to the Putting Up event, hosted by Pixie of You Say Tomato, and Rosie of Rosie Bakes a Peace of Cake.

Cranberry Preserves

Quick. Easy. Two Ingredients.  Need I say more?

dried cranberries, at least one cup (but more if you like)

orange juice, enough to cover the cranberries in a pot

Place cranberries in a pot and cover with the juice.  Bring to a boil over medium heat; lower heat to simmer, cover, and allow the mixture to cook softly, stirring occasionally, until the mixture thickens and the cranberries soften and begin to fall apart.  Stir to create a smooth mixture with a few chunky bits.  Transfer to a jar or other container to cool.  Will keep about a week in the fridge; or freeze for later use.

When I was organizing my photos this weekend, I came across a fair number that I’ve never used in blog posts. Not sure why; maybe it’s that my (relatively new) blog-related compulsion to photograph virtually every dish I cook, bake, or eat has produced a backlog.  It also struck me that I’ve always depended on the kindness of strangers  to provide inspiration, unique recipes, or novel combinations of ingredients that often direct me in my cooking and baking exploits. And what better way to acknowledge their inspiration than to showcase some of these photos–and their recipes–here?

Since I began my ”Total Health” kick just over a week ago, I’ve steered clear of most sweets, including my greatest desire, chocolate. I have to admit that the restriction feels a tad less torturous this time than during the WOCA, when I would have hopped on the nearest streetcar named “Chocolate” and happily gone wherever it took me. Well, as it turns out, most of my photos depict desserts–how perfect for a sultry Sunday evening!  So here are some of the lost treasures that have been baked in the DDD household over the past few months:

These chocolate-cranberry biscotti, adapted from a recipe in Patricia Greenberg’s Whole Soy Cookbook, were my first attempt at these crisp coffee-dunkers. I wish I’d read Romina’s post about her own version before I made these, as I definitely baked them too long. While visually appealing, they were probably more useful as paperweights or doorstops than cookies.  After a long soak in a hot tub cup of tea or coffee, though, they were just fine.

Next up were Vegan Magic Cookie Bars from Susan’s blog. When I was a kid, we called these ”Hello Dollies” in our house (Why “Dolly?”  No idea.). Susan warns that these are definitely not fat-free.  Having said that, they were gooey, rich, and deliciously decadent. I had to give the rest away or I would have consumed them all.

These speckled darlings are Lemon-Zucchini Poppyseed Muffins adapted from one of my favorite cookbooks, Laura Matthias’s Extraveganza. With a tender, ethereal lightness, these muffins seemed almost too fragile for this world. Didn’t stop us from eating them, of course.

These gorgeous, golden beauties are Sweet Potato and Cranberry Scones, a test recipe for Anne-Kristin at Swell Vegan.  I adored these–juicy with tart cranberries, a base that’s satisfying, lightly spiced and not too sweet, with the expected heft you’d get from a conventional biscuit.  The HH and I thoroughly enjoyed these for breakfast (oh, and a few snacks). 

Another recipe courtesy of a fellow blogger: this Raw Carrot Cake and Cashew Cheeze Frosting hails from Lindsay over at Day to Day Vegan.  I’d been wanting to try this cake ever since Valentine’s Day, when we both participated in the Vegetable Love contest! My version came out a bit softer than Lindsay’s, so I just popped it in the freezer for about 20 minutes before unmolding and frosting.  Raw, with a mysterious magnetism. . .  This was yummy!

Finally, here’s a photo of the Double Chocolate Fudge Brownies from Ellen Abraham’s amazing cookbook, Simple Treats.  These are, quite simply, one of the best brownies I’ve ever baked or eaten.  See those chocolate chips gleaming in the sunlight?  These are so good, I have to show them again.  From another angle: 

Everyone I’ve ever served these to has flipped over them.  Aren’t they just stellar??  In fact, they might make you want to rush from the apartment, down the fire escape to the sidewalk below, and bellow at the top of your lungs, “STELLA-R! HEY, STELLA-RRRRRRR!!!!!!”

(Well, you just knew that’s where I was going with this one, didn’t you?).

Thanks to all my baking muses! Now, back to reading more blogs for new ideas. . . 

Well, I thought I’d just pop in here for a minute (I know, poor me, nothing else to do on a Friday night–sniff, boo hoo) to add a quick post before the real weekend fun starts–watching Battlestar Gallactica with the HH and The Girls! Whoo-hoo!

One of my favorite bloggers, Lisa of Lisa’s Vegetarian Kitchen, has tagged me for a meme.  Here are the rules: 

Pick up the nearest book, and turn to page 123. Find the 5th sentence, then copy out the next 3 after that.

 The book I’m reading is called Consolation, by Canadian author Michael Redhill. The book relates 2 parallel storylines: one about a young apothecary in the late 1800s who emigrates to Toronto from London, England, to embark on a new life so he can transport his family to Canada; the second, a present-day story about a widow whose quest (sparked by her geologist husband’s suicide) is to validate his theory about Toronto’s history, which had been rejected before he died.  I’ve not quite finished it yet, but I’m guessing the two plotlines will intersect before I do.  I’ve been enjoying the book immensely–Redhill is a flawless writer whose use of language borders on rapturous at times –and would recommend it highly.

Okay, so here are the sentences. I think it’s fairly obvious from which plotline they’re plucked; and–bonus!–he uses long sentences, so more to read:

It felt warmer, or perhaps he was warmed still, whether by the lethal cocktail Ennis had given him or by the seeming closeness of the people he loved, and he had an urge to visit the lakefront, to stand where he’d first stood almost nine months earlier, full of arrogant wishes and simple hopes. He walked down to Front Street, where people of a more familiar class were now to be seen near the American Hotel, standing in knots of conversation.  He returned a happy wave of the hand to one of them, and inside the ground-floor windows of the hotel, frosted around the edges and fogged, he could hear the revelry of the guests in their grog, and a pianoforte playing in the background.

And now–the most difficult part–I am to tag five others.  On the one hand, I wish I could tag more than five, since there are so many great blogs I’m reading these days (reminder to self: update blogroll!).  On the other hand, I know many of you have been tagged recently and may be memed-out.  I apologize if you’ve already been asked to participate; I’ve made an effort not to include anyone who’s been tagged in the recent past–well, that I remember, anyway:

• Andrea from Easy Vegan Cooking;
• Johanna from Green Gourmet Giraffe;
• Sally, from Aprovechar;
• Amanda from Walking the Vegan Line; and
• Diann from Eat’n Veg’n 

Looking forward to seeing what everyone’s reading.

*Okay, so it’s not really Polish.  But the topping reminded me of a German Chocolate Cake topping, and since (half) my ancestry is Polish, I thought I’d just use the same concept for this cake’s name. 

Did you hear the one about the (half) Polish woman who wanted to bake a cake? 

Just kidding.

All right now! ‘Nuff of those wacky raw dishes we’ve been seeing the last couple of days!! Time for some CAKE.

One of the greatest challenges of living in a long-term, committed relationship is dealing with those areas in which you and your partner don’t necessarily mesh.  In order to coexist harmoniously and still retain one’s sanity, it’s sometimes necessary to make accommodations.  (Okay, fine; not only “sometimes,” but pretty much every day.  Okay, fine; several times a day.).

Since this union is the second go-round for both the HH and me, we no longer bristle at the petty, quotidien issues that drive some newlyweds crazy (does the toilet paper roll from the top or the bottom?  Do you re-fold the newspaper in its original configuration after reading, or leave it in separate, blowzy sections once you’re done with it? Is it okay to exchange sotto voce commentary while watching Atonement in the movie theater, or not?). Nevertheless, we do make our own concessions.  The HH prefers to play music ultra loud (beyond 11, even), whereas I prefer it as a soothing backdrop to other activities.  He takes a laissez-faire attitude toward housework and disciplining The Girls; I prefer a schedule, and rules. (”And we definitely prefer Dad’s approach. . . sorry, Mum.”)

One major difference that forces the issue pretty much daily is our respective dietary habits:  as I may have mentioned (perhaps, on occasion, in passing?) the HH loves to eat meat; I do not.

So when it comes to food, we’ve both learned to adapt. Over the past 11 years, the HH has eaten more tofu, collards, rice noodles and quinoa than he ever knew existed in the world. He’s also sacrificed some of his own cherished favorites, as when I had to cut out all alcohol (plus sugar, and fermented products, and fruits. . . don’t ask) from my diet for 2 years. He cheerfully complied and went without at home, with not a peep of protest.

So, as I browsed through my bookmarked recipes this week for something to bake, I was pleased to land on a recipe for Lemon-Coconut Bundt Cake from Deb’s great blog, Altered Plates. The HH adores coconut (whereas I’m fairly indifferent to it); coconut cream pie tops his list, but he’ll embrace cookies, muffins, bars, or any other coconut confections as well. I thought this would be the perfect cake to show my appreciation for his tolerating my (fairly) unconventional dietary habits over the years.

When I discovered that the Coconut-Lemon Cake recipe originated with Veganomicon, I wasn’t at all surprised. Seems you can’t read any food blog–vegan or not–these days without stumbling on a reference to that revered tome. I’ve tried many recipes from my own copy of the book, but none of the baked goods. In general,  Moskowitz and Romero (I like using their surnames–it’s actually the correct format when referencing other authors; and besides, it makes them sound like a comedy duo that way: “Romero & Moskowitz’s Laugh-In,” or maybe a law firm: “Moskowitz and Romero, LLP“ ) often make use of baking ingredients far removed from my own kitchen cabinets:  white sugar, wheat flour, margarine, and the like. And while it’s not difficult to adapt those kinds of recipes to my own requirements, I already had plenty of other recipes lined up. 

I was definitely drawn to the concept of lemon and coconut coexisting in harmony (sort of like the HH and me!). But an entire Bundt cake seemed massive (I mean, how many extra baked goods can one bring to the office?). I decided to halve the recipe and bake it in a round cake pan.

In addition, M & R recommend serving the cake unfrosted.  Now, maybe a naked Bundt (like the Venus de Milo or Miley Cyrus’s shoulder) is sufficiently alluring on its own; but an unadorned, plain-Jane round layer, sans frosting or filling? Well, that just wouldn’t do.  Instead, I omitted the coconut from the cake itself, then added it to a a lemony, gooey topping, reminiscent of the frosting on a German Chocolate Cake, for a little more flair.

I’m happy to report that the HH was very pleased with the final result.  The cake itself revealed a cheery yellow, moist and light interior; the slightly more brash lemony topping, lush and loaded with coconut, provided a great contrast in texture and sweetness.  In fact, the HH seemed so pleased with his treat that I felt perfectly justified asking him to turn down that deafening volume on the stereo.

Since I was inspired by Deb’s adapted version, I’m submitting this entry to Ruth’s weekly Bookmarked Recipes event, over at Ruth’s Kitchen Experiments.

Polish Lemon Cake (adapted from Veganomicon)

This cake is very moist with a gooey, rich and intensely lemon topping.  Perfect for a dessert or an afternoon snack, it keeps well in the fridge (and is even better the second day). 

Coconut-Lemon Topping:

1/3 c. (80 ml.) agave nectar

1 Tbsp. (10 g.) organic cornstarch

2 Tbsp. (30 ml.) coconut milk

2 Tbsp. (30 ml.) unflavored soymilk

2 tsp. (10 ml.) freshly grated lemon zest

pinch turmeric

1 tsp. (5 ml.) vanilla

2 Tbsp. (30 ml.) soymilk powder

3/4 cup (60 g.) shredded unsweetened coconut, toasted

Cake:

3/4 cup (175 ml.) agave nectar

1/3 cup (80 ml.) sunflower or other light-tasting oil 

3/4 cup plus 2 Tbsp. (200 ml.) coconut milk (1/2 a 400 ml. or 14-ounce can)

2 Tbsp. (30 ml.) unflavored soymilk

2 Tbsp. (30 ml.) fresh lemon juice

2 tsp. (10 ml.) freshly grated lemon zest

1 tsp. (5 ml.) pure vanilla extract

1 tsp. (5 ml.) ground Salba (chia seeds)

1 cup (150 g.) light spelt flour

1/2 cup (70 g.) coconut flour

1/2 tsp. (2.5 ml.) sea salt

1-1/2 tsp. (7.5 ml.) baking powder

1/2 tsp. (2.5ml.) baking soda

Make the topping: In a small saucepan, whisk together the agave nectar and cornstarch until smooth.  Slowly whisk in the milks, lemon zest and turmeric.  Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until mixture comes to a boil.  Reduce heat and simmer the mixture for one minute, stirring. 

Remove from heat and add the vanilla and soymilk, whisking until smooth (don’t worry about tiny lumps, as they’ll be camouflaged by the coconut; if you want it really smooth, you can blend with a hand-held blender before adding the coconut). Once the mixture is smooth, stir in the vanilla and coconut.  Allow to cool while you prepare the cake.

Make the cake: Preheat oven to 350F (180C).  Grease an 8″ round pan, or line with parchment paper.

In a medium bowl, mix together the agave, oil, milks, lemon juice, lemon zest, vanilla, and Salba.  Whisk to ensure that the Salba is evenly distributed.  Set aside while you measure the dry ingredients.

In a large bowl, sift the spelt flour, coconut flour, salt, baking powder, and baking soda.  Stir the wet mixture into the dry until well combined.  Pour the mixture into the prepared pan and bake in the preheated oven for 40-45 minutes, until deep golden brown and a cake tester inserted in the center comes out perfectly clean.  Alllow to cool about 20-30 minutes, until cake is no longer hot. 

Scrape the coconut filling over the cake and spread evenly. Refrigerate until cold, about an hour.  Cut into slices and serve.  Makes 8-10 servings.

Well, seems I’m on a raw kick this week–here’s a second raw recipe in a row (and also a tongue-twister using “R” words!).  As promised, I’m going to offer the recipe for “Cultured Vegetables” from my Total Health course.  Every time I utter the name of this recipe, I can’t help thinking, “As opposed to what?  Crass, uncouth vegetables?” But my mind just works that way.

If you’ve ever enjoyed a side of tangy, crisp coleslaw or the zing that some juicy sauerkraut can add to a Reuben sandwich, you’ve already sampled cultured vegetables.  The term refers to veggies that have been allowed to ferment naturally, within their own juices, to help breed the natural bacteria within them. These are good bacteria, people–the same kind you eat in healthy, immune-enhancing yogurt with live probiotics.  In fact, naturally cultured veggies may contain even more of these healthful bacteria than the yogurt does.

The practice of making our own cultured veggies has waned over the past century (why bother when you can just grab a jar from the supermarket?), but the store-bought kind can’t compare. In contrast to the assembly-line, limp and almost matte coloring of prepared brands, the homemade variety retains a lovely sheen and a springy bite with an appealing ascerbic tang.  And while the all-natural brands manufactured using traditional methods (the ones that require refrigeration even before you open them) are just fine, their cost is often exorbitant, and they don’t always offer the same probiotic benefits or equivalent array of vitamins and minerals in the all-natural types.

When you chop or grate raw, organic cabbage, the probiotic bacteria already present  (”friendly bacteria” that naturally populate our intestines and aid in myriad bodily functions, from boosting our immune systems to enhancing digestion to producing Vitamin K) begin to multiply and feed off the natural sugars in the veggies, thereby fermenting them.  The result is the slightly soft , slightly crisp, naturally pickled condiment that is most commonly known as sauerkraut. In this case, however, the food is truly raw and provides all the benefits of raw enzymes and easy digestibility from a living food.

I’ve always loved sauerkraut.  I can still remember how, throughout my childhood, my mom would crack open a jar of Mrs. Whytes  in natural brine and just eat it out of the jar as a snack (she had some weird culinary proclivities, that mom of mine). Well, as she did with my love for Jack and Carly, my mother also nurtured my taste for sauerkraut, and I’ve been eating it ever since.  When I finally learned to make it myself last week, I was surprised at how simple the process really is.

A quick Googling of “Cultured Vegetables Recipe” elicited 188,000 hits, so there’s obviously no shortage of information available for those who’d like to give it a try.  At our course, we used a combination of red cabbage, white cabbage, carrot and daikon radish.  The method is crazy-simple:  chop or grate the veggies very fine; blend a bit of them with water to create a “brine”; combine both parts in a tightly-closed jar and let it sit on your kitchen counter for a week.  Refrigerate before opening (both to stop the fermentation process and to prevent too much air escaping when you finally open it), then spear with your fork and enjoy.  My own batch ended up infused with a rosy, springlike hue throughout, courtesy of the red cabbage; on the plate, the mixture evoked a girl’s best party dress, or a sprinkling of confetti at a baby shower.

Once made, the veggies can be used alone as an accompaniment to salads, burgers, or other main courses; as a snack on their own (my mom would have loved them); or, as my instructor suggested, tossed at the last minute over some sautéed greens to warm them up a bit.

Below is the recipe we used, taken directly from Donna Gates’s Body Ecology site.  While my instructor did provide a “culture starter,” it’s entirely unnecessary to the success of this dish.  You should also feel free to experiment with the proportions of different vegetables, as long as cabbage is the the main event. And once you’ve got a batch ready, the veggies will last several months. 

Raw Cultured Vegetables

[Aren't those colors purty?]

[From the website]: One important secret to making really delicious yet medicinal cultured veggies is to use freshly harvested, organic, well-cleaned vegetables. After washing the veggies, spin them dry. Clean equipment is essential. Scald everything you use in very hot water.

Version 1

3 heads green cabbage, shredded in a food processor

1 bunch kale, chopped by hand

(optional): 2 cups wakame ocean vegetables (measured after soaking), drained, spine removed, and chopped

1 Tbsp. dill seed

Version 2

3 heads green cabbage, shredded in a food processor

6 carrots, large, shredded in a food processor

3 inch piece ginger, peeled and chopped

6 cloves garlic, peeled and chopped

1. Combine all ingredients in a large bowl.
2. Remove several cups of this mixture and put into a blender.
3. Add enough filtered water to make a “brine” the consistency of a thick juice. Blend well and then add brine back into first mixture. Stir well.
4. Pack mixture down into a 1½ quart glass or stainless steel container. Use your fist, a wooden dowel, or a potato masher to pack veggies tightly.
5. Fill container almost full, but leave about 2 inches of room at the top for veggies to expand.
6. Roll up several cabbage leaves into a tight “log” and place them on top to fill the remaining 2 inch space. Clamp jar closed.
7. Let veggies sit at about a 70 degree room temperature for at least three days. A week is even better. Refrigerate to slow down fermentation. Enjoy!

I know I said I’d relegate comments about my Total Health program to a coda each week, but last night’s class spurred such a barrage of ideas that I wanted to set them down (despite last week’s blathering about eating styles–we all know how well that one went over). So be warned:  this entry features no recipe, and it’s about dieting.  Please feel free to skip if that’s not of interest!

When I first started this blog back in late October (six months yesterday!!), I wrote quite frequently about my diet and (tenuous) attempts to lose weight.  I actually never intended it to morph into a food blog, but once I started reminiscing about different recipe origins, preparation methods, ingredient sources, etc., it seemed to move naturally in that direction (at least, most of the time). I preferred to write about the dishes themselves rather than my reactions to, or feelings about, them.

Well, one of our “assignments” last week in my Total Health course was to “eat without distractions.”  From what I gleaned from our instructions, this meant virtually the same thing as “eating mindfully.”  For any of you who’ve read Jon Kabat Zinn’s seminal book on mindful living, Full Catastrophe Living, this concept is familiar.  In the book, Zinn suggests eating a raisin with full attention to its shape, color, texture, smell, size, mouthfeel, taste, and effect on your emotional or psychological state.  Giving that wrinkled grape your full awareness while consuming it takes several minutes at the least, and you’d presumably experience every nuance, every physical reaction, every sensory impact of consuming that raisin.

I was a little hesitant to embrace this homework, as my schedule these days is beyond hectic and I feel I barely have time to heave a heavy sigh before the day is over.  But I did it.  Breakfast became a private communion between me and my oatmeal (or scone, or almond butter-topped apple, etc.) as I cleared the table and sat and ate. . . mindfully. 

And what did I discover?  That my mind didn’t have very much to contribute to the exercise.  That I didn’t like it. Not one bit.

For me, trying to focus exclusively on my food as I observed, smelled, tasted and then mused upon it was like “torture lite”–maybe not a figurative year in a Medieval prison, but more like recess trapped in the corner of the schoolyard with the class bully.  As with meditation, my mind kept wandering, I found myself scanning the rest of the room as if searching for a deus ex machina to release me from my penance, and I twitched and evaded and couldn’t wait for it to be over.

Me?  Wishing EATING would be over??  It’s unheard of!

In our class last evening, I raised the issue.  Was I the only one who’d had a hard time with it?  Apparently, yes.  For the rest of the class (to be fair, not everyone actually did the exercise, so I don’t know about those few who didn’t), eating with no distractions was like an oasis of peace and calm in an otherwise crazy welter of their days.  One woman even said that she’d come to rely on her breakfast ritual, in particular, as a way to start her morning on the right note, and felt unmoored without it. 

According to our instructor, sitting one-on-one with your food and forcing yourself to focus exclusively on it accomplishes a few things.  First, you are more aware of the quality of the food itself.  As she mentioned last week, it’s virtually impossible to plunk yourself down and devour a cannister of Pringles mindfully.  I found that to be true as well (not that I’ve eaten Pringles in the last decade or so):  once you know you must to sit and attend to every puff of popcorn, or every corn chip, or even every goji berry, one at a time, over and over, the idea of grabbing a quick snack between writing assignments doesn’t hold the same allure.  Similarly, if you’re eating food that is of poor quality, paying close attention to every sniff and bite will only highlight that fact, and you may find you’re not as inclined to scarf down that McDonald’s burger and fries quite so often.

In addition, eating mindfully slows down the process of how you select, bite, chew, and swallow the food, so bingeing is virtually eliminated.  When I succumb to a chocolate binge, I’m not paying very close attention to the quantity I ingest.  Basically, I eat as much as there is, until it’s gone (which is why I try not to keep it in the house).  With mindful eating, however, I realized very quickly that I didn’t need all that much to fill my belly.  After one apple (cut in segments and smeared with about a tablespoon of almond butter) for breakfast, I realized I’d had enough.  Maybe I wasn’t used to this bizarre new physical awareness, and it made me uncomfortable.

Finally, I realized that this exercise simply highlighted for me how much I’m overstuffing my schedule as well, and how I usually attempt to fit in too many items in a day; so many, in fact, that taking an extra hour or two to consume meals in isolation throws off the rest of the itinerary.  As I sat chewing my apple with awareness, I was also painfully cognizant of the newspaper draped across the opposite corner of the table, and that my solo meal meant I wouldn’t have another moment to read it that day (well, my teacher would say, you shouldn’t be reading the paper anyway–too much negative energy).

I’m going to try to stick with the practise, despite my discomfort.  For one thing, it’s helped me to determine whether or not I really want to eat something before I dig in; if it’s worth stopping my current activity to sit down and spend some alone time with a food, then I figure I must really feel like having it at that moment. Our instructor promises that the purpose of the exercise is to create a greater appreciation of what we eat, and, ultimately, a greater enjoyment of the food.  I’m waiting for that to happen.  In the meantime, I am glad for the decreased caloric intake.

This week’s homework:  incorporate greens into the diet once a day, along with cultured veggies.  Recipe coming up!

In my short stint as a raw foodist (very different from an “in-the-raw” foodist, which, for obvious reasons, I’d never do) I was determined to try out every variation of living foods imaginable.  This meant foods I’d otherwise probably never eat, such as raw fennel (basically just don’t like it); raw cashews (okay, but too bland on their own for my taste); raw cacao nibs (not bad when ground up and incorporated into some form of dessert); and raw sushi. 

What?  Sushi is already raw, you say?  Ah, but I’m not talking about fish.  Rather, I’m talking about fish-y, or fish-like, sushi, composed of raw nuts and veggies.  And waaaay better than slimy, slippery, dead tuna!

This recipe pairs almonds and sundried tomatoes for a magical synergy that results in a filling reminiscent of saltwater and salmon without actually being salmon (or John Malkovich, for that matter).  You enjoy the essence of the sea without having to eat any fish!  How cool is that?

I have to admit, however, that I might never have ventured to try this particular dish if not for my beloved, the carnivorous HH. In fact, before we met over a decade ago, nary a nibble of sushi in any form had passed my lips.  I had steadfastly refused to join all my friends when, throughout the late 1980s and 1990s, sushi reigned supreme as the Favorite Form of Yuppie Sustenance (and I suspect that, even today, it would attain runner-up status, at least).  You see, I’ve seen raw fish; my dad used to bring home a whole fish occasionally from his butcher shop, and my mom always refused to touch it.  Me? Eat raw fish?  No, thanks. 

In Toronto, you can find a sushi bar on almost every corner of the downtown core, plus most streets in the suburbs (that’s almost as many sushi restaurants as there are donut shops!). For years, whenever I planned to meet a girlfriend for drinks after work, join colleagues for a quick bite after class, or share a dinner with my book club, mine would be the lone voice demurring across a vast sea of sushi. 

And then, the HH invited me to lunch.  Well, technically, he invited me to lunch, again. One of the more pleasant aspects of my particular work schedule is that I have the freedom to run errands, do laundry, or anything else during the afternoon and work all evening instead, if I choose.  Once a week, I exercise that freedom to meet the HH for lunch.  It’s our way of keeping the romance alive getting our 5 to 10 a day escaping the ”kids” checking in and staying connected with each other. 

One particular day, after much pleading and cajoling, he finally convinced me to join him at his favorite sushi restaurant.  

“They’re bound to have vegetables, right?” he theorized.  I had to agree. “And they’ve definitely got rice.” So far, so good.  “Well, I’m sure they know how to roll it in a nori sheet, so I bet they can put together some vegetarian sushi for you.”  How could I object?

I’ve been thanking him ever since. When I explained what I wanted to the shop’s petite hostess, she cocked her head, smiled and nodded, then returned a moment later proffering a  platter of nori rolls, futo maki and hand rolls filled with various combinations of carrot, cucumber, umebosi plum, buttery avocado, and daikon.  In addition to being visually impressive–each unique spiral mosaic of orange, green, and creamy white a testament to the chef’s culinary artistry–the rolls also served up that classic melding of sweet, salty and umami, which, when accompanied by pickled ginger and fiery hot wasabi, was enough to hook me for life. How, I wondered, had I ever allowed myself to miss out on such an indulgence before then? 

 I still love vegetarian sushi, and these days, the HH and I eat it exclusively at our weekly lunch date.  Still, there are times when I’m snowed under with marking, or the HH has been summoned to an unexpected conference call, and we defer until the following week.  On those occasions, I try to make this raw version instead.  Completely grain-free, it nevertheless contains a similar satisfying blend of flavors and textures to the real thing.  And the inclusion of ground nuts here actually renders this version almost as protein-packed as its fishy predecessor. Like all sea vegetables, the nori is replete with minerals, particularly iodine, necessary for proper thyroid functioning.  It also provides Vitamin K, essential for healthy blood.

And, best of all, it’s completely fish free. 

Given that these darlings are uber-healthy, I thought they’d be a perfect contribution to Cate at Sweetnicks‘ ARF/5-A-Day weekly event.  You can check out the roundup every Tuesday.

Raw Nori Rolls

I got this recipe from a raw foods class that I took a few years ago. The rolls require a little planning in order to prepare the nuts and sundried tomatoes, but once those iare ready, the remainder of the dish comes together quickly.  These are best served soon after they’re made.

1-1/2 cups raw almonds, soaked in room-temperature water for 8-10 hours

1/3 sundried tomatoes, soaked 4-6 hours

1 Tbs. Mellow (or white) Miso

2 Tbsp. freshly squeezed lemon juice

1 Tbsp. tamari or soy sauce

1/4 tsp. black pepper

4 sheets nori (buy untoasted if you wish these to be entirely raw)

Vegetables for filling: carrot and cucumber matchsticks; grated daikon; thinly sliced green onions; thinly sliced avocado

pickled ginger, as needed

wasabi paste, as needed

Prepare the filling:  in a food processor, whir together the drained almonds and drained tomatoes until you have what looks like a fine meal.  Add the miso, lemon juice, tamari and pepper and process until the mixture forms a smooth paste (add reserved tomato water if more liquid is required).

Prepare the rolls (you can use a sushi mat, but it’s not necessary): spread about 1/4 of the paste onto each nori sheet, leaving 2-3 cm (1 inch) at the end farthest away from you.

Fill the end close to you with the strips of fresh vegetables.

Moisten the empty edge of the nori sheet with water. Roll the nori into a long cylinder over the veggies and toward the empty edge.  Place on a plate or tray with the seam side down; let sit 5 minutes before cutting into 8 uniform pieces.

Serve with additional tamari, pickled ginger and wasabi as condiments. Serves 4. 

While I am an avid fan of most types of Asian cuisine, I have always been rather underwhelmed by bok choy.  Perhaps it’s the similarity in color and texture to celery, another vegetable I dislike; perhaps it’s that I can’t help but note how its bulbous bottom and fan-leaf top bears an eery resemblance to the comic strip Dilbert’s eponymous character; either way, bok choy has always seemed more trouble to me than it’s worth.  Besides a bit of a crunch, really, what does it offer? An insipid, watery base and limp, lackluster leaves.  Bleh.

Last weekend, however, I found myself with three of those babies (and I mean that literally:  they were baby bok choy) courtesy of our weekly organic produce box, and wondering what the heck to do with them.

Now, it’s true, a weekly delivery of assorted organic produce is normally a good thing.  For one, you get to eat assorted organic produce (and weekly!).  I love the fact that I can reduce my time in the grocery store, as the organic bag is delivered right to our door each Friday.  All I need do is haul it inside, allow The Girls  to sniff their approval of its contents (”We really appreciate that, Mum!“), then unload it onto the kitchen counter where, before depositing them in the appropriate storage bins, I might admire the brilliant carmine of this week’s pomegranate, say, the stiff, tan sheaths protecting hardy yellow onions, or the crisp, shiny trio of red and gold-flecked Gala apples I received.  

For me, one of the great pleasures of having the service is how it often introduces as-yet untried wonders from the world’s vast array of fruits and vegetables, such as persimmon (loved it) or fiddleheads (not so much). What’s not so great, however, is that we sometimes receive items that are never eaten. 

Considering that the HH is willing to try pretty much any (cooked) body part from a dead cow, he’s woefully unadventurous when it comes to the vegetable kingdom.  Offer him some parsnips, and he crinkles his nose in disgust (though he did like them disguised as oven-baked french fries–give it a try!); dish up some scrambled tofu and he shakes his head forcefully; suggest even a sprinkling of spirulina, and he clamps his mouth shut like a toddler faced with cough syrup.  He wouldn’t even take one bite of my breakfast Apple-Quinoa Cake the other week (though he did seem to enjoy the baked Tagine).  

This leaves me alone to consume all the produce the HH has spurned.  Sometimes, I just can’t eat it all before it begins to, shall we say, “mature.” Of course, the most sensible way to deal with the undesirable fruits or veggies would be to take advantage of the company’s generous substitution policy: you can replace up to two items with those of your own choosing, as long as you contact them before your delivery date.  Unfortunately, as I may have mentioned before, my organizational skills ain’t what they used to be, so I (too often) tend to forget.  And end up with feeble, neglected veggies. 

Well, this was one of those weeks.  I forgot to replace the dreaded bok choy, and it was rapidly approaching decrepitude in the bowels of the crisper drawer. Given what’s going on in the world of food these days, I simply couldn’t bring myself throw it away. But I wasn’t looking forward to yet another mediocre stir-fry, brimming with pallid bok choy and other dreary veggies in the wok, either.

Then I remembered Heidi’s recipe for caramelized tofu.  About a month ago, I had a little love-in with the sweet, crispy cubes enhanced by bits of browned, crackly, caramelized garlic and toasted pecans.  At the same time, I’ve always been intrigued by what’s called “crispy spinach” in some of the Chinese restaurants I’ve patronized. I decided to combine the best of both dishes, while avoiding anything deep-fried. 

And so, I chopped up the bottoms of the little brassicas, made chiffonade of the greens, then stir-fried both in a slightly sweet, ginger-soy base and waited until it crisped up on the edges.  The result was truly ambrosial: the white base of each stalk cooked down to something much like caramelized onions in both taste and texture; and the green leafy tops crisped somewhat along with the garlic and cashews, transforming that homely crucifer into something spectacular.  A sprinkling of sesame seeds finished it off for a passing crunch in each mouthful.  (Really, my amateur photo does not do it justice.) 

The HH adored this as a side dish and inhaled two servings.  I was rather enamoured myself, as I finished up what was left. 

Would I make this again?  Most definitely.  In fact, I may even need to order it specially with next week’s produce delivery–that is, if I can remember to get the order in on time. 

 With all the great antioxidants found in all cruciferous veggies plus the many immune-enhancing allium compounds in garlic, I thought this recipe would be a great submission to Chris’s Cooking to Combat Cancer event, over at her blog, Mele Cotte.

Caramelized Baby Bok Choy with Cashews and Sesame Seeds

This sweet, slightly crunchy dish makes the perfect side for a spicy main course, accompaniment to steamed rice, or a great snack just on its own.

3 baby bok choy

2 Tbsp. extra virgin olive oil or peanut oil

6 cloves garlic, roughly chopped (not too finely)

1 tsp. freshly grated ginger root

1/4 cup raw cashews, coarsely chopped

1 Tbsp. tamari or soy sauce

3 Tbsp. Sucanat

1 Tbsp. sesame seeds

Prepare the bok choy:  Wash each bok choy carefully. Cut the leaves to separate the white bottoms from the green tops (just guesstimate–it doesn’t have to be an exact science as long as most of the white is separated from most of the green).  Keeping them in separate piles, shred both the whites and green leafy tops as you would for coleslaw.

In a large frypan, heat the oil over medium heat.  Add the garlic, ginger, white portion of bok choy and cashews.  Cook, stirring occasionally, until the bok choy is very soft and the garlic and nuts are beginning to brown.  

Sprinkle the mixture with the soy sauce and add the shredded greens from the bok choy; stir quickly to coat the bok choy, as much as possible, evenly with the tamari.  Sprinkle with the Sucanat and stir to coat evenly. (At this point, the Sucanat will melt quickly and may cause the vegetables to exude water; this is fine).

Allow to cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until all liquid is absorbed and the bok choy is intensely brown; the garlic and nuts should be browned and crispy (this will take 10-12 minutes).  Sprinkle with sesame seeds and continue to cook until heated through. 

Serve immediately.  Makes 2 servings.