Diet, Dessert and Dogs

[NB: A huge "THANK YOU" to all of you who sent good wishes my way yesterday. I really wasn't intending to sound so "woe-is-me" (I do that quite enough around the diet issues, thank you), but just reflecting on how the day could elicit positive vibes for all concerned.  Your comments sure worked toward that end for me, though: big hugs to all of you! ]

In my mind, here’s the perfect way to wake up on a Sunday morning: 

Outside, the weather is balmy. A mild breeze whispers through the slightly opened window, curtains undulating softly with each invisible breath.  The sun makes its presence known through the diaphanous curtain as it tickles the pillows of our bed with little sparkles of laughing light. Elsie pads quietly over to my side of the bed and, as gently as a rose petal floating to the ground, taps my open palm with her soft, moist nose. I open my eyes slowly. Glancing toward the window, I stretch luxuriously and think, ”Ahh, yes! Another lovely, sunny Sunday! This is a perfect time to have. . . BREAKFAST.” 

Unfortunately, the reality yesterday morning was more like this scenario:

It’s dark; the cold, clammy night air refuses to release its death grip on the house, barreling its way into the room through the open window.  Thin and defenseless, the curtains ripple and flap, rousing me with their wistful ”flltt, flltt, fllllltttt” tapping an SOS against the pane.  Chaser thumps enthusiastically over to my side of the bed and, with a serviceable impersonation of an approaching foghorn, targets my exposed ear with her wet, cold nose. My eyes pop awake and dart toward the window: monochrome grey sky, raindrops still clinging to the glass. Outside, there’s a constant flutter of leaves pelted by rain.  I jerk upright, reach for the bedside lamp and lament, “Aaarrghh!  Another crappy, rainy, gloomy Sunday.” But wait; pause. My smile returns, and I reconsider: ”Oh, well.  Typical Toronto day. But at least it’s time for–BREAKFAST!”

Like bright copper kettles and whiskers on kittens, breakfast does seem to make everything a little better, doesn’t it?

Well, as soon as I read about the second Recipe Remix blog event, hosted by Robin of Made with Love and Danielle of Make No Little Meals, I knew I had to enter. The event focuses on breakfast foods, asking bloggers to “remix” a traditional food in a new way.  Admittedly, the breakfast pickings were pretty slim (ah, if only I could say as much for my thighs): six dishes, five of which contained eggs, and all of which contained wheat–both no-no’s for this brekkie lover.  Initially, I narrowed the choice down to pancakes, crepes, or French toast. 

Now, as much as I love pancakes and crepes, I’d already dealt with both of those on this blog. Time for a new challenge.  But why, oh why did it have to be French toast?  I hate French toast.  Okay, maybe that’s being slightly dishonest.  The truth is, I TOTALLY, WHOLLY, ENTIRELY, COMPLETELY, ABSOLUTELY hate French toast. Can’t stand it. Never touch the stuff. Blech! French Toast is my mortal enemy! And I’m really not particularly fond of it, either.

I’m not sure why I developed this bone-chilling aversion to what is, arguably, a well-loved (and certainly popular) breakfast staple.  Perhaps it was my mother’s tendency to use approximately half a tub of margarine when frying the stuff, resulting in that previously unknown breakfast delicacy, Deep Fried Brick.  Despite the slices fairly floating in grease like aging Floridians at the pool, the toast inevitably still turned out slightly scorched on the outside.  At that point, my mom would stack the slabs on a plate (no blotting on a paper towel for her!) and douse them in corn syrup. The heavy, unctuous substance would spread, a slowly oozing blob that was eventually absorbed by the top slice, leaving it wet, weighted, and about as appetizing as a kitchen sponge just lifted from the bucket of grey, murky, muddy water. Ooh, yum. French toast, anyone?

I knew had to get over my childhood toast trauma.  I decided to approach it like an episode of Iron Chef: I’d been challenged to transform the lowly pain grillé into something mouth-watering, something delectable.  Was I up to the task?  Alas, I couldn’t think of anything.  I was at a loss; I was afraid I’d blow it.  In fact, I was certain I’d be. . . well, toast.

But this blog event was called Recipe REMIX, which meant I had carte blanche to change up the dish any way I wanted.  And who ever said that French Toast has to be fried?  In fact, it was the preparation method alone that rendered the stuff unpalatable to me; change the method, change the result.  Eliminating the frying would also result in a lighter, airier product.  I decided to bake the dish instead, after breaking the bread into smaller bits so they could soak up the liquid ingredients while nestled in a single soufflée dish: a French Toast casserole.

Working with a fairly standard (egg- and dairy-free, of course) mixture for soaking French toast, I added a few extra touches, such as a splash of berry liqueur or some mixed berries as a reminder of spring, a means to elicit that sunshine I missed so much in the morning.

As the mixture baked and browned, the bits of bread continued to soak up the batter, expanding and puffing like a male dove preening for a mate.  It rose up so much, in fact, with such a fluffy and almost mousse-like texture, that I decided to call it “French Toast Soufflé.” 

We ate it warm, bites of spongy, soft bread punctuated with bursts of juicy berries; but it could easily be served cold.  And while I didn’t have time to make any soy-free whipped cream yesterday, a dollop of cream would be the perfect accompaniment to a bowl of this fruity, light and delectable dish. 

Go on, indulge.  Why not have a big bowl for breakfast? It will make the rest of the day seem that much better.

 French Toast Soufflé with Summer Berries

I think this is what someone like Nigella would call a “summer pudding,” though I’ve never had one of those.  It would be a fabulous dish for a springtime brunch buffet, or even as a dessert following a light summer meal. 

8-10 slices stale sourdough spelt or kamut bread

1/4 cup (60 ml.) old-fashioned rolled oats

2-1/2 cups (620 ml.) vanilla rice or soy milk

1 tsp. (5 ml.) pure vanilla extract

1/2 cup (125 ml.) agave nectar

1 Tbsp. (15 ml.) organic cornstarch or arrowroot powder

2-3 Tbsp. (30-45 ml.) berry liqueur (framboise, cherry, etc.–I used Cloudberry, but it’s pretty rare)

1 Tbsp. (15 ml.) fresh lemon juice or 1/2 tsp. lemon extract

1-1/2 - 2 cups (325 to 500 ml.) fresh or frozen mixed berries

Preheat oven to 350 F (180 C).  Lightly grease a nonreactive (glass or ceramic) pan or soufflé dish.

Break the bread into bite-sized chunks and place in a large bowl.

In a blender, grind the oats until they are the consistency of a coarse meal.  Add the remaining ingredients except for the berries and blend until smooth.  Poor the mixture over the bread in the bowl, pushing the bread down with the back of a spoon so that all pieces are submerged.  Allow to sit 20-30 minutes, pressing the bread back down occasionally, until the bread is completely soaked through (there may still be liquid left in the bottom of the bowl; this is fine).

When the bread is all soaked, spoon half the bread slices and half the remaining liquid into the prepared pan.  Top with about 2/3 of the mixed berries.  Cover the berries with the rest of the bread and liquid, then top with the last 1/3 of the berries. 

Bake in preheated oven 40-50 minutes, until puffed and golden and a knife inserted in the centre comes out wet but clean.  Allow to cool at least 10 minutes before serving.  Serve warm, at room temperature, or cold.  Makes about 8 servings.  This is best served the day it’s made, though it can be re-heated the next day.

[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.

Well, it’s been pretty hectic over here in the DDD household. For the past couple of days, I’ve been slogging away at course prep for a course that deals with diaries and personal journals.  (Did you know, for instance, that  the first online diary, or weblog –today known simply as “blog”–was begun in 1994?  Or that psychiatrists and psychologists often ask their patients to use free association or stream-of-consciousness in journals as a way to dredge up old, repressed conflicts or neuroses?)  Okay–enough work for now!  Time for a snack break. 

Ah, but what to eat?  Hmmm. . . .well, funny, but peanut butter popped into my head. Oh, yeah, baby–peanut butter!  I love it.  It’s creamy, it’s delicious, it’s full of–well, nuts. (Oh.  Hmmm. Is that a bad thing, that I just said “nuts”?  Really, I didn’t mean anything by it. . .sometimes, you know, a peanut is just a peanut.).  Peanut butter was one of my favorite foods in childhood.  (Not that I’m trying to re-live my childhood, or anything.) Of course, nowadays, peanut butter is quite often troublesome, potentially deadly, even–all those peanut allergies and sensitivities. . . which is quite sad, actually. All because we were fed too much of it when we were kids. And now we’re paying for it! Where’s the justice in that? I mean, HOW COULD MY MOTHER DO THAT TO ME? Oh, yes, it’s becoming all too clear: It’s all my mother’s fault!  I may never get over it. . . I think I’m getting a complex. . .   

Well, any Freudian issues aside, I must admit that I do remain a bit conflicted about the stuff.  Although I so enjoy the flavor of it, there’s really nothing elegant about peanut butter (on its own, anyway). For many of us, it’s simply a quick, cheap, and easy base for a meal, something we rely on when either time or funds are scarce; and it’s one of the first foods we eschew as soon as we can afford anything better.  And of course there’s the allergy thing, too.

Perhaps worse, peanuts sometimes harbor potentially deadly toxins. As you probably know, the peanut is actually a legume, not a nut; and its shell, being somewhat soft and porous, functions as a perfect hiding place for a variety of molds, foremost among them something called aflatoxin.  When I first read about this particularly virulent fungus and its affinity for peanuts, I stopped eating peanut products that same day. 

And while aflatoxins are generally found only in minute amounts in peanut products (their levels are monitored, ostensibly), they are, nevertheless, twenty times more toxic than DDT, promoting liver damage and a variety of cancers. Unfortunately, organic peanut butter isn’t exempt, even though it’s free of many other carcinogens (read: pesticides, additives).

Well, after a bit of debate, I welcomed my childhood friend back into my home and diet–my feelings for it were just too deeply rooted–but in relatively small quantities.  Besides, the legendary legume still boasts many very positive attributes, and the benefits seemed to equalize the drawbacks.  For instance, peanuts also contain heart-healthy monounsaturated fats; they provide just as many antioxidants as fruit (which would, theoretically, balance out some of the nasty aflatoxin effects); they contain many cancer fighting compounds (again, anti-aflatoxin), and, along with nuts in general, are said to help with weight loss (I am SO on it!).

But was there a way to incorporate the plebeian peanut into the realm of adult tastes? True, you can find peanut butter in a variety of Thai dishes, which I love, or the less-spicy Chinese sauces.  And I made good use of PB in one of my favorite soups of all time, Moroccan Spiced Tomato Soup.

But today, I wanted to find something else.  Something a little more mature.  A little more sophisticated.  A little more. . .baked.

I suppose I could have taken an easy route and opted for that old standard, Peanut Butter Cookies.  With their characteristic cross-hatch and crispy bottoms, they’re a homey, cheerful and somewhat quaint rendering of PB.  And then there’s this bread, which I’ve been salivating over for quite some time.  Looks fabulous, doesn’t it?  But it requires the dreaded yeast, and I just couldn’t shake my anxiety over that one quite yet (is it an Edible Complex? Is it peanut envy?).

In the end, I decided to try something from my copy of the Damn Tasty! cookbook by Kris Holechek, which I bought some time ago and still hadn’t used. (Unfortunately, the book is no longer in print). I flipped to the recipe for Basic Biscuits–quick, easy, familiar–and made a couple of quick adaptations. 

The result was a light (flaky, almost), very appealing biscuit with the added dimension of peanut butter. At the same time, the biscuits are sturdy enough to cut in half and slather with a favorite topping (in my case–more PB!). 

Later, served with a little apple butter, they were reminiscent of those long-ago sandwiches of my childhood. 

Which is a good thing.

No, really.  

Because I used an ice-cream scoop to create uniformly sized biscuits,  I thought this would be a great submission for Joelen’s Tasty Tools event, this month highlighting scoops.

Peanut Butter Biscuits (adapted from Damn! Tasty Vegan)

These are light and not too sweet, with a subtle peanut butter flavor. Like a peanut-butter enhanced whole-wheat biscuit, they exude nutrition, healthfulness and subconscious id-related urges.

1 cup plus 1 Tbsp. (150 g.) light spelt flour

1 cup (140 g.) whole spelt flour

1/2 tsp. (5 ml.) sea salt (be sure you’re using UNsalted PB, unless you like them really salty!)

1 Tbsp. plus 1 tsp. (20 ml.) baking powder

2 Tbsp. (30 ml.) agave nectar

2 Tbsp. (30 ml.) sunflower or other light-tasting oil

3 Tbsp. (45 ml.) smooth or crunchy all-natural peanut butter

3/4 cup (180 ml.) unflavored soymilk or almond milk

1 tsp. (5 ml.) apple cider vinegar

Preheat oven to 425 F (220 C). Line a cookie sheet with parchment or spray with nonstick spray.

In a large bowl, sift the flours, salt (if using) and baking powder.

In a medium bowl, whisk together the agave nectar, oil, and peanut butter until smooth.  Slowly add the milk and whisk until you have a homogeneous mixture; then add the vinegar.

Pour the wet mixture over the dry ingredients and stir to blend.  You’ll have a soft dough.  Using a large ice-cream scoop, scoop out portions of the dough and place about 2 inches (5 cm) apart on the cookie sheet.  Wet your palms and flatten each biscuit slightly. 

Bake in preheated oven for 10-15 minutes, until puffed and browned on the edges.  Makes 8 biscuits.  May be frozen.

Whenever we visit my family in Montreal as we did this past weekend, I return to Toronto feeling a little discombobulated.  Since I was a callow young’un when I moved away from home (at 17), I never really got to know La Belle Ville that well before I left, so I always feel like a tourist when I return.  At the same time, these somewhat frenetic, drive-by junkets (never more than 2 days long) tend to be so micro-scheduled that our itinerary is often tighter than one of Madonna’s corsets. 

Regarding our “visits,” the HH once remarked, “I’ve been coming to Montreal with you for ten years, and all I’ve ever seen is a hotel, your dad’s house and your sister’s apartment.”  Unfortunately, too true, and this last trip was no exception.

Still, I do enjoy reuniting with family and friends, even if for a few minutes each during out revolving-door visits.  And despite my anxiety over a still-tentative back, the driving was fine.  By late Sunday, we’d arrived back in Toronto, picked up The Girls from doggie daycare (”Thank God you came back, Mum!  We thought you had abandoned us forever!“) and returned home to feed them–and us.

Striding into the empty house, setting down bags and opening windows, I felt the familiar combination of exhaustion, relief, and hunger that always occurs upon returning home after a long trip. A quick glance in the refrigerator revealed a sad inventory of the following: one carton of firm tofu; a lone zucchini (looking almost as tired as I felt); a bag of baby potatoes sorely in need of attention; a bunch of fresh tarragon (bought on a whim after I was inspired by Lucy’s fabulous post on Leek and Flageolet Soup), and a pint of grape tomatoes, sporting an uncanny resemblance to fingertips that have lingered too long in a warm bath. (And isn’t it interesting how, even though everything here in Canada is metric and I always refer to liquids in those terms–I would never say “a quart of milk”–that I still think of those little cartons for berries or grape tomatoes as “pints”?). 

Faced with this unpromising array of tired, wizened produce, the HH responded with a characteristic reaction:  ”Okay, let’s go out to eat.” 

Now, I do believe that anyone who knows me well would never describe me as ”extravagant.”  In fact, I am rather moderate in my spending habits. Come to think of it, I am extremely economical as a  rule.  Well, actually, I’m even what you might call unbelievably frugal most of the time.  Parsimonious, even.  Oh, all right, fine, I admit it!  I am stingy!  I’m a tightwad!  I’m a total cheapskate! 

Really, I hate spending money unnecessarily. I will do my darndest never to pay a higher price for an article I KNOW costs less elsewhere. I actually find it fun to plan out a budget; I get a kick out of (literally) saving my pennies; I thoroughly enjoy scanning the grocery flyers so that I can plan out a shopping route worthy of a military operation. As a shopper, I experience a little frisson of pride every time I nab one of those funky sweaters I’ve ogled in the store window all season, now at 50% off (even if I don’t actually need a funky sweater and only manage to wear it once before stumbling upon it again years later, abandoned at the bottom of a drawer, at which time I pack it up to send to Goodwill).

As a result, there’s no greater crime in our house than spending money on a restaurant meal if it means throwing away otherwise perfectly good food.

And so, after having just spent a small fortune on travel, boarding The Girls, AND an opulent dinner last week, I was faced wtih my mission, and I chose to accept it: make use of all those leftovers in the fridge–even those shrivelled, elderly tomatoes. 

“No way,” I responded, “I can make something out of this.  No sense in wasting it.” (Yep, if ever there were a couple who embodied the phrase, “opposites attract,” the HH and I would be it).

Cooking tofu for the HH has become quite a challenge of late, as there are very few tofu-centric meals he’ll deign to eat.  And while he did adore my tofu omelette a while back, the prospect of cooking and flipping four of them just then was beyond the bounds of my remaining energy. 

I decided to try a frittata.  I love fritattas, and hadn’t had one in ages.  Besides, like George and Jerry propounding on salsa, I may like the final product, but love the sound of the word even more:  free-TA-ta.  Like some rollicking anthem a group of suffragettes might have sung as they turned on their heels and sashayed off into the sunset. 

My only real problem was the pile of slightly shrivelly tomatoes, too old to attract a suitor, yet still too fresh to start dispensing sage advice to the grandchildren.  Then I remembered a great recipe from Martha Stewart (who is, herself, still rather spry looking–even though, in fact, old enough to start dispensing sage advice to the grandchildren) for oven-roated tomatoes.  The slow heat renders them no longer really juicy, but not dry, either, dehydrated just enough to intensify the natural sweetness of the fruit. And with grape tomatoes, the oven time could be cut down considerably.

So, while the red grapes roasted, I parboiled the potatoes and zucchini, sliced into rounds.   For the base of the fritatta, I employed a variation of my original omelette mixture with a few modifications to create a more savory, firmer texture.  I added the chopped tarragon, which brought it all together with its intense grassy color, light flavor and slightly flowery aroma.

Overall, this was a perfect homecoming dinner:  simple, satisfying, evoking springtime and–much to my delight–highly economical.  And since this is so chock-full of veggies, I’ve decided to submit it to the weekly ARF/5-A-Day event, hosted by Cate at Sweetnicks.  You can check the full roundup every Tuesday!

Happy Earth Day, everyone!

Tofu Frittata with Potatoes, Zucchini and Oven Roasted Grape Tomatoes

Hearty and colorful with healthy veggies, this dish makes a wonderful light dinner or showpiece for a brunch table.  Of course, you can vary the veggies to your taste (just keep the basic volume about the same).  If you don’t feel like roasting your tomatoes, just cut them in half and use them as-is. 

2 Tbsp. extra virgin olive oil, divided

1 medium onion, sliced thinly

1 medium zucchini, sliced into thin rounds

1 large potato (about 200 g.), cut in quarters and sliced into thin rounds; or use 3 baby potatoes

about 1 cup pre-roasted grape tomatoes, or about 1-1/3 cups fresh, cut in half

1/2 cup plus 2/3 cups vegetable broth or stock

1 pound (about 500 g.) firm or extra-firm tofu

1/4 cup (about 60 ml.) nutritional yeast

3 Tbsp. (45 ml.) potato starch

1/2 tsp. (2.5 ml.) onion powder (not salt)

1 tsp. (5 ml.) turmeric

1 Tbsp. (15 ml.) cashew butter

2 Tbsp. fresh tarragon, chopped

Preheat oven to 350F (180C).  Grease a 9 or 10 inch tart pan, souffle dish, or a 9 inch square pan.

In a large frypan, heat 1 tbsp. olive oil over medium heat.  Add the onion, zucchini, and potato, and cook for about 5 minutes, just until the vegetables start to wilt.  Add the 1/2 cup vegetable broth, cover, and cook for another 10-15 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the potatoes are tender and the onion is beginning to brown. Turn off heat.

In a food processor, mix the tofu, nutritional yeast, remaining 2/3 cup broth, onion powder, turmeric, remaining 1tbsp. olive oil, and cashew butter, whirring until very smooth and evenly textured.  Turn the mixture into a large bowl, and stir in the tarragon.

Add the vegetable mixture to the tofu and stir to blend well.  Spread the mixture into prepared pan and bake for 40-45 minutes, until firm and just beginning to brown on the edges.  Cut into wedges to serve.  Makes 8 servings. 

[I thought it would be fun to run a little series over here at DDD: I'll profile one one of my favorite foods, or a food that I've recently discovered and enjoyed, over several days.  For this second entry, I'm focusing on Quinoa. The series is presented on an occasional (and entirely arbitrary) basis, before I move on to the next lucky comestible. This is the last entry on quinoa.]

The moment I decided to present a Lucky Comestible series about quinoa, I simultaneously decided I’d have to include at least one baked goodie.  I know what you’re thinking:  “Now, Ricki, haven’t you already included a recipe for said baked goodie?  After all, you did post about Almond-Quinoa Muffins before the involuntary GBR, didn’t you?” 

Why, yes! Yes, I did. However, technically speaking, muffins are a “baked good,” not a “baked goodie“–the latter term reserved for dessert-type treats, such as cakes, pies, cookies, tarts, or bars.  I wanted to see if I couldn’t turn quinoa into something at least quasi cake-like, despite its elevated whole grain status–something worthy of the term, “dessert”–something that even skeptics like Johanna or Wendy (who mentioned on Johanna’s blog that quinoa reminds her of worms!) could enjoy. 

So, even though personally, my favorite use of quinoa is as a base for salad (where its true essence can shine through), I let my mind wander back toward baking.  And while so doing, I remembered that, in actuality, quinoa is not really a grain–it’s a seed related to beets and leafy greens such as spinach or chard.  Well, okay, I’ve already used spinach in a previous baked goodie, so that didn’t deter me at all.  And even if my quinoa creation didn’t turn out as decadent as a molten chocolate cake, I figured I could still whip up something with both a great nutritional profile AND a sweetness rating high enough to please the kids as an after-school snack, or to serve unexpected guests, with a steaming cup of green tea.  (”And don’t forget, it’s also good enough as a special treat for your sweet and devoted Girls, Mum! We LOVE apple-quinoa cake. . .”)

Since we already had a bag of Macintosh apples withering away on the counter, I started there.  I imagined that a lightly spiced batter would work well with the sturdy taste of quinoa, which can sometimes be a bit domineering in a crowd. For some reason (perhaps because quinoa itself is gluten-free), I decided the bars should also be celiac-friendly. 

What I ended up with was a light and moist cake, studded with raisins and sunflower seeds alongside thin shreds of apple and grains of quinoa.  The cake is slightly chewy, slightly crunchy, with a tender crumb and pleasing spice.  And because it’s fashioned from leftovers of both quinoa and apple, I thought it would be a perfect submission to the Leftover Tuesdays event, hosted by Project Foodie. 

“Mum, you disappoint us.  Raisins?  You know we can’t eat raisins.  But maybe you could pick them out for us. . . “

 Apple-Quinoa Cake

Next time you cook up some quinoa and find yourself with leftovers, try this great snack cake. Without being excessively sweet and boasting sunflower seeds, two fruits and two whole grains, the cake is nutritious enough to eat for breakfast, though still light enough for dessert.  The subtle apple and trio of spices is a tantalizing combination–you may have to stop yourself from having more than one piece!

2 whole medium apples, cored and coarsely grated (about 1 cup lightly packed or 200 g.)–I used Macintosh and left the skins on

1/2 cup (125 ml.) agave nectar

1/2 cup (125 ml.) sunflower or other light-tasting oil

2 cups (160 g.) cooked quinoa

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

2 tsp. (10 ml.) pure vanilla extract

1 tsp. (5 ml.) apple cider vinegar

1/4 cup (40 g.) sunflower seeds

1/4 cup (40 g. ) raisins

1-1/3 cups (160 g.) whole oat flour

1 tsp. (5 ml.) baking powder

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

1 tsp. (5 ml.) ground ginger

2 tsp. (10 ml.) ground cinnamon

1 tsp. (10 ml.) or less, to taste, cardamom

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

1/4 cup whole oats

Preheat oven to 350F (180C).  Grease a 9″ square pan, or line with parchment paper.

In a medium bowl, mix the grated apple, agave nectar, oil, quinoa, Salba, vanilla, vinegar, sunflower seeds and raisins.  Set aside.

In a large bowl, sift the flour, baking powder, soda, ginger, cinnamon, cardamon, and sea salt.  Add the oats. Add the wet mixture to the dry and mix well. 

Pour into prepared pan and smooth the top.  Bake for 30-40 minutes, until a tester inserted in the center comes out clean.  Allow to cool before cutting into slices.

Makes 9 breakfast servings or 12 dessert servings.  Best eaten the day it’s made.

* If you don’t have or can’t find chia, you could try substituting 2 Tbsp. ground flax seeds; but the cake will probably be denser and heavier this way.

Other Posts in this Series:

Lucky Comestible II (1): Quinoa Salad with Buckwheat and Cranberries

Lucky Comestible II (2): Almond-Quinoa Muffins

Lucky Comestible II (3): Quinoa-Oatmeal Croquettes

Lucky Comestible II (4): Tagine of Quinoa with Chickpeas, Olives and Prunes 

Other Quinoa Recipes:

(Got a quinoa recipe?  Send me the link during this Lucky Comestible week, and I’ll add it to the list!)

• Couldn’t Be Easier Quinoa Casserole courtesy of Shellyfish at Musings from the Fishbowl
• Quinoa with Sundried Tomatoes and Corn courtesy of Lisa at  Lisa’s Kitchen
• Quinoa Soup with Corn courtesy of Lisa at Lisa’s Kitchen
• Quinoa Lentil Chili courtesy of Romina at Vegan Eating for One
• Not One, But THREE Quinoa Dishes courtesy of Diann at Eat’n Veg’n (I want that breakfast bar recipe!!)
• Cheddary Tofu Quinoa Pie courtesy of Jenny Wren at Rabbit Food
• Butternut Squash Quinoa courtesy of Karen at Test Drive Kitchen
• Beetroot and Quinoa Salad courtesy of Lucy at Nourish Me
• Quinoa Italiano courtesy of Cheryl at Gluten Free Goodness

[I thought it would be fun to run a little series over here at DDD: I'll profile one one of my favorite foods, or a food that I've recently discovered and enjoyed, over several days.  For this second entry, I'm focusing on Quinoa. The series is presented on an occasional (and entirely arbitrary) basis, before I move on to the next lucky comestible. ]

You guys are too funny!

I would never have guessed that my silly little comment about quotation marks at the end of yesterday’s post could spark so many witty comebacks.  Well, quotation marks be damned! Now that I’m officially *back,* I’ll just have to reach waaaay %back % into my punctuation quiver and pick out a few other sharp marks and symbols.  And so, right ++BACK++ at ya! 

For now, though, I must hold myself >bAcK< and will no longer tap my spinal woes as a source of humor (though the original Spinal Tap, on the other hand, provides its own endless source of punny laughs).  And now, let’s get back  to today’s Lucky Comestible!

If you’ve read my blog for any length of time, you’re likely already familiar with my penchant for breakfast foods.  The morning repast is, unequivocally, my favorite meal of the day.  So how could I go through five different recipes featuring quinoa and NOT include at least one targeted breafast dish? 

I’ve already covered a baked good with the Almond-Quinoa Muffins; today, I’ve repurposed Lisa’s amazing Quinoa and Oatmeal Croquettes recipe for a breakfasty-sweet usage rather than the delectable savory meal (smothered in a rich mushroom sauce) that she originally wrote about. Luckily, the recipe is super-easy and employs ingredients I already had on hand, so I was able to whip these up without having to head to the supermarket, which would have undoubtedly strained my finances patience relationship  (Oh, just SAY IT:)  BACK .

I’ve always thought of croquettes as somewhat pear-shaped orbs that sit under a thick slathering of creamy sauce.  As a kid, my mom sometimes made chicken croquettes, which involved grinding, mixing, and shaping the mounds of seasoned chicken before rolling them in breadcrumbs and baking them, after which they were doused with à la King sauce (ie, canned cream of mushroom soup) that had a handful of frozen peas thrown in. Representative of the times, but hardly worth the effort, I always thought.

When I saw Lisa’s recipe, I was a little surprised at the form of these croquettes. Like that iconic fast-food hamburger, they were square rather than round; and like the proverbial bank heist-without-a-hitch, they were almost too easy: simply cook up, spread in pan, then cut into shape.  I suppose I could have used a cookie cutter to approximate a rounded shape, but why bother? Who said croquettes have to be round, anyway?

What I like about these little darlings is that the quinoa is very evident–not a co-star, but the main attraction.  The oats, while present, don’t really determine much of the overall flavor; rather, they seem to bind the croquettes together instead. The mixture reminded me very much of a polenta in texture and preparation; but the taste was, to my mind, very well suited to breakfast.

 And so, still limited by the few ingredients I actually had in the house after the GBR, I pulled out some homemade cranberry preserves as a topper and set about heating these in the griddle for breakfast.  I was very well rewarded with a nubby-textured, moist and chewy croquette highlighted by the occasional crunch, courtesy of sesame seeds sprinkled over top.  The slightly sweet, slightly tart jam was the perfect accompaniment.  These would also be divine with maple syrup, I think.  Oh, and mushroom sauce (as Lisa suggests) too, of course.  

Quinoa-Oatmeal Croquettes

from Lisa’s Vegetarian Kitchen

Quick, hearty, and substantial, these are the perfect breakfast bites.  If you’re in a hurry, you can even wrap them up and take them along.  And, as Lisa suggests, they make a great base for a savory sauce, too.

1 cup dry quinoa

1 cup rolled or steel-cut oats (I used rolled oats)

3 cups water

1/4 tsp. sea salt

sesame seeds, as needed

olive oil, as needed

If desired, rinse the quinoa to remove the bitter outer resin (I didn’t bother, as I assume most quinoa these days is pre-rinsed; but if you want to be safe, go ahead). Place in a glass casserole or pan along with the 3 cups water, cover, and soak overnight in the fridge.

The next day, grease a 9 x 9 inch square pan with olive oil or nonstick spray.  Pour the mixture into a medium-sized pot and stir in the sea salt.  Cook over medium heat, stirring frequently to prevent scorching, until it has the consistency of a thick porridge, about 25-30 minutes.

Pour the mixture into the prepared pan, smooth the top, and sprinkle with sesame seeds.  Refrigerate at least 20 minutes, to let the mixture cool and firm up (I left it for about 4 hours).  Cut the mixture in to cubes of desired size (I cut the contents of the pan into 20 small cubes).

Lightly oil a frying pan with the olive oil, and fry the cubes on both sides until golden brown and crispy on the outside.  Transfer to a plate and serve with fruit preserves of your choice.  Makes 4-5 servings.  Will keep for 4 days, covered, in the fridge.

Other Posts in this Series:

Lucky Comestible II (1): Quinoa Salad with Buckwheat and Cranberries

Lucky Comestible II (2): Almond-Quinoa Muffins

Lucky Comestible II (3): Tagine of Quinoa with Chickpeas, Olives and Prunes

Lucky Comestible II (5): Apple-Quinoa Cake

Other Quinoa Recipes:

(Got a quinoa recipe?  Send me the link during this Lucky Comestible week, and I’ll add it to the list!)

• Couldn’t Be Easier Quinoa Casserole courtesy of Shellyfish at Musings from the Fishbowl
• Quinoa with Sundried Tomatoes and Corn courtesy of Lisa at  Lisa’s Kitchen
• Quinoa Soup with Corn courtesy of Lisa at Lisa’s Kitchen
• Quinoa Lentil Chili courtesy of Romina at Vegan Eating for One
• Not One, But THREE Quinoa Dishes courtesy of Diann at Eat’n Veg’n (I want that breakfast bar recipe!!)
• Cheddary Tofu Quinoa Pie courtesy of Jenny Wren at Rabbit Food
• Butternut Squash Quinoa courtesy of Karen at Test Drive Kitchen
• Beetroot and Quinoa Salad courtesy of Lucy at Nourish Me

[I thought it would be fun to run a little series over here at DDD: I'll profile one one of my favorite foods, or a food that I've recently discovered and enjoyed, over several days.  For this second entry, I'm focusing on Quinoa. The series is presented on an occasional (and entirely arbitrary) basis, before I move on to the next lucky comestible. ]

Well.  So.  It snowed again yesterday.  Actually, it stormed; we got about 5 cm. (2 inches) to add to the–what?  478 cm?  792 cm?  14 kilometers?–pre-existing snow already piled in mini-glaciers beside every driveway, walkway, sidewalk, and garage.  And there I was, once again stuck in the house, avoiding the pelting flakes and ice pellets.  

I imagine this is what it feels like to live in perma-frost, constantly surrounded by the white stuff with no end in sight. I feel exactly like Captain Robert Scott must have felt on one of his forays to the South Pole, holed up with his companions in his ice-shack as refuge against the elements.  Just as he did in his famous diary, I could easily write an entry something like this:

Bitter storms accosted the crew today, forcing the team to head indoors.  We huddle by the makeshift fire and attempt to warm our weary, frostbitten hands.  Thrashing winds surround us at every turn.  All but forsaken in this frigid terrain, we have but each other and the dogs for company.  Poor mongrels, even they refuse to venture outdoors in this accursed weather. But tomorrow, if the winds permit, we shall harness them up and commence the hazardous trek anew. . . .

Okay, well, not exactly like Scott, as I’m actually writing on a computer, not by hand with pen and ink on paper in sub-zero weather.  Oh, and I’m in a heated brick house in a modern city of 5 million people, not an ice shack.  Oh, with electricity. And some organic, vegan spelt cranberry-pumpkin scones and a hot cup of mint tea beside me.  And I’m not a couple thousand kilometers from the nearest sign of civilization. 

But other than that, just like him.

What this blasted weather stirs up in me (besides the propensity to write like a 19th Century Antarctic explorer) is a longing for breakfast foods. Since my dad worked at his store 6 days a week, he was out of the house by 6:30 AM on Saturday mornings.  During the winter, The CFO and I would fend for ourselves at breakfast and let our mom sleep in (once she returned to bed after making breakfast for our father). 

Our self-sufficiency wasn’t exactly the most healthful (I seem to recall feasting on saltines, peanut butter, and chocolate milk as we watched Saturday-morning cartoons), but it was comfort food to us.  These days, any breakfast fare spells comfort to me; when it’s cold outside, I want to eat pancakes, muffins, scones, omelettes, or even baked oats. 

Well, these quinoa muffins, adapted from a recipe in Veganomicon, fit the bill perfectly.  Hearty yet slightly sweet, filling yet not too heavy, they are satisfying and sufficient to warm the spirit and the belly. And full of nourishment for energy to brave the elements again, when you’re finally ready to lace up the sled dogs and hit the expedition once more.

(”Um, Mum, you’re not actually thinking of hooking us up to a sled, are you? Because, you know, it’s pretty cold out there, and our paws are rather delicate. . . we really hate getting them all full of ice and snow if we don’t absolutely have to.”) 

Almond-Quinoa Muffins

Adapted from Veganomicon

I adapted these by using spelt flour and chopped dates, since I had no apricots on hand.  These are dense and pleasantly chewy; the quinoa does make its presence known, however, so beware that you will taste it in the mix.  I think these would be outstanding with the suggested apricots as well. 

1 cup vanilla soymilk

1 Tbsp. ground flaxseeds

1/4 cup sunflower or other light-tasting oil

1/4 cup agave nectar or pure maple syrup

1 tsp. vanilla extract

1 cup light spelt flour

1/3 cup whole barley flour

1/4 cup almond meal or almond flour

1/2 tsp. baking soda

2 tsp. baking powder

1/4 tsp. sea salt

1 tsp. ground cinnamon

1/2 tsp. ground cardamom

1-1/4 cups cooked quinoa

1/2 cup finely chopped dates

Preheat the oven to 350F (180 C) and lightly grease 12 muffins cups, or line with paper liners.

In a medium-sized bowl, whisk together the soymilk and flax; allow to sit for one minute, then whisk in the oil, agave, and vanilla.

In a separate large bowl, sift together the flour, almond meal, baking soda, baking powder, salt, and spices. Add the wet ingredients to the dry, mixing until just incorporated. Gently fold in the cooked quinoa and the apricots and mix until only the large lumps are gone.

Pour into the prepared muffins tins, filling about 3/4 full, and bake for 20 to 22 minutes until a tester inserted into the center of a muffin comes out clean.  May be frozen.

Other Posts in this Series:

Lucky Comestible II (1): Quinoa Salad with Buckwheat and Cranberries

Lucky Comestible II (3): Quinoa-Oatmeal Croquettes

Lucky Comestible II (4):  Tagine of Quinoa with Chickpeas, Olives and Prunes

Lucky Comestible II (5): Apple Quinoa Cake

Other Quinoa Recipes:

(Got a quinoa recipe?  Send me the link during this Lucky Comestible week, and I’ll add it to the list!)

• Couldn’t Be Easier Quinoa Casserole courtesy of Shellyfish at Musings from the Fishbowl
• Quinoa with Sundried Tomatoes and Corn courtesy of Lisa at  Lisa’s Kitchen
• Quinoa Soup with Corn courtesy of Lisa at Lisa’s Kitchen
• Quinoa Lentil Chili courtesy of Romina at Vegan Eating for One
• Not One, But THREE Quinoa Dishes courtesy of Diann at Eat’n Veg’n (I want that breakfast bar recipe!!)
• Cheddary Tofu Quinoa Pie courtesy of Jenny Wren at Rabbit Food
• Butternut Squash Quinoa courtesy of Karen at Test Drive Kitchen
• Beetroot and Quinoa Salad courtesy of Lucy at Nourish Me

I considered going back to basics and entitling this post, simply, ”Bread and Spread,” but decided against the too-generic descriptor (even though it does offer up a lovely rhyme).  But these two foods, when eaten together, really could inspire poetry (if you’ll forgive the extended metaphor), so I opted for my slightly rhapsodic title instead.  And besides, with Easter coming up tomorrow, “pastoral” seemed like the right choice.

I’ve been hankering after this Potato Bread ever since I read about it a while back on Johanna’s blog (and originally posted on Redacted Recipes). Johanna’s version of the recipe, bespeckled with little amethyst wisps of grated purple potatoes, was not only visually beautiful, but her post also described the bread itself–its taste and texture–as veritably irresistible. 

Now, I’m not a huge fan of bread per se (I rarely, if ever, eat sandwiches–though I made an exception for a Tempeh Ruben a while back).  If I do eat bread, I want it to be the dense, dark, whole-grain kind that originated in an anonymous Eastern European country.  This sounded like just the ticket, so I set about altering the ingredients to render them a bit more NAG-friendly.

In the end, I baked this bread three times (I forced myself to stop at three, because I also ended up eating most of each one!). Because the original recipe contained cheese, I substituted nutritional yeast to provide a similar flavor.  My first effort (right) contained a bit too much yeast, I’m afraid, and the sharp astringency was a little overpowering.  With attempt number two, I halved the yeast, but added diced avocado to emulate  chunks of soft feta cheese scattered throughout the bread (photo below). 

 (Ehm, er. . . wouldn’t recommend this one.  I might try the avoca-cheese again in future, but I’d use much less and definitely cut the chunks very small; that way, it might just work). 

Third time was definitely the charm:  I introduced chopped roma tomato and subbed fresh dill instead of thyme.  Number Three (photo below) was, by far, my favorite.

As Johanna attested, this bread was fantastic.  Even though mine isn’t quite as pretty to look at as hers, the moist, dense interior and perfectly balanced flavors of the green onion, cheesiness, and potato worked in agreeable harmony.  Each bite provided a slightly different mosaic of flavors, each with its own unique configuration and gustatory sparkle. I, too, had to stop myself from consuming too much of this delightful loaf at one sitting.

And while it was stellar all on its own, the bread also made a perfect base for a favorite spread of mine, Carrot Pâté. I created the latter recipe about five years ago (when I first started teaching cooking classes), as a way to veganize a fabulous pâté I’d been preparing for over 10 years before that (back when favorite recipes had to be clipped from magazine pages and preserved in file folders).   

Most of the carrots we consume around here tend toward the pre-peeled, miniature variety (aka “baby carrots”). Those are what we feed The Girls as treats, and, equally often,  as “dessert” after dinner.  And although Elsie adores the minis (and will even occasionally bare her teeth at Chaser for the culinary privilege), she turns her wet, black nose up with disdain at the regular, full-sized kind.  (Once, I ran out of the miniatures, and tried feeding her ordinary organic carrots. I took great care to cut them into strips approximately the same size as baby carrots. She examined my offering like a mortician views a corpse, let out a little contemptuous snort, and walked away.  Huh?)  Have you ever known a DOG that’s a picky eater? And not only that–this is a dog whose puppyhood was characterized by eating poo for dessert! But no; no regular carrots for this Prima Donna.

“Um, excuse me, Mum, but if I might just interject to point out that the baby carrots are harvested much earlier in the growth cycle and are, therefore, significantly sweeter?  And also that you didn’t peel those big ones, either, Mum.  So they still retained all those little bumps and ridges on the exterior, which was rather irritating to my sensitive gums and teeth.  Just saying.”

And while it’s technically a  pâté, I actually prefer to eat this for breakfast.  With the sweetness of carrots and light, custardy texture courtesy of silken tofu, it’s a perfect morning accompaniment.  Along with the bread, you’ll be getting your morning serving of protein, veggies, and carbs, all in one delicious repast.  In fact, this would be an ideal pairing for a leisurely Easter Brunch, if you haven’t got your entire menu set already.

I thought this meal would be a great submission to Weekend Breakfast Blogging, which was created by Nandita at Saffron Trail and is being hosted this month by Mansi of Fun and Food.  The theme this month is “Balanced Breakfast Meals.”

(”Actually, Mum, I love this pâté even when you make it with “those” carrots. Pureeing the carrots makes them so much more palatable. So please feel free to share.“)

And to those of you who celebrate it, Happy Easter, all!

Cheesy Onion Potato Bread and Carrot Pâté

Cheesy Onion Potato Bread

adapted from Green Gourmet Giraffe

You will quickly become addicted to this hearty, moist, and filling bread–be warned!  I’ve included my own adaptation of the recipe here. 

1-3/4 cups light spelt flour

2 tsp. baking powder

1/2 tsp. sea salt

1/2 tsp. smoked paprika

1 Yukon Gold potato, grated

2 Tbsp. nutritional yeast

5 green onions (white and light green part only), finely sliced

1-2 Tbsp. freshly chopped dill

1 small Roma tomato, chopped

1 Tbsp. ground flax seeds

1/2-2/3 cup plain soymilk, as required

1 tsp. grainy Dijon mustard

Preheat oven to 375F (190C).  Lightly grease a cookie sheet, or line with parchment paper.

In a measuring cup, mix together the flax, 1/2 cup soymilk, and mustard; set aside.

In a medium mixing bowl, sSift flour, baking powder, salt, and paprika.  Add the grated potato, nutritional yeast, onions, dill, and tomato and toss with your hands until all the vegetables are coated.

Pour the wet mixture over the flour mixture and toss with a fork until everthing comes together in “a sticky, shaggy dough” (at this point, if the dough is too dry, add the remaining soymilk).

Transfer the dough to the baking sheet and shape it into a domed round. Bake for 40-45 minutes, turning once around halfway through, until the top of the bread is deep golden and the loaf has a slightly hollow sound when tapped on the bottom.  Allow to cool before devouring.  May be frozen.

Vegan Carrot Pâté

If you consider carrots as mundane, plain-Jane, plebeian roots to be served only when drenched in sweet glaze or when playing second fiddle in a duo with peas, you’re in for a real treat with this pâté. 

1 pound (450 g.) carrots (about 10 medium carrots)

2 Tbsp. (30 ml.) olive oil
2 Tbsp. (30 ml.) malt vinegar
2 Tbsp. (30 ml.) light miso
1/2 tsp. (2.5 ml.) dried thyme
1-1/2 c. (about 370 ml.) firm silken tofu (such as Mori-Nu)
2 Tbsp. (30 ml.) organic cornstarch
1/2 c. (120 ml.) chopped fresh parsley or cilantro  Preheat oven to 325 F. Grease a small loaf pan, line with waxed paper, and grease paper. Set aside.  (Note: You may also bake the pâté in individual mini loaf pans; simply spray each pan well with nonstick spray before filling). Cook carrots, covered, in lightly salted water until tender. Drain and cool.In a food processor, whir the carrots until well pureed. Add remaining ingredients and process until completely smooth and no traces of tofu remain.

 Pour the mixture into the loaf pan. Bake in preheated oven for 50-60 minutes, until a knife inserted in centre comes out clean.

 Let cool on a rack. Refrigerate at least 4 hours or overnight. To unmold, loosen edges slightly and turn out onto a platter. Remove waxed paper and garnish as desired. Spread on crackers or bread.

Makes about 16 slices (8-10 servings).

I really hate making mistakes.  Not only because they sometimes wreak havoc (”What?  The model of Stonehenge on stage was supposed to be 18 FEET high, not 18 inches???” or, “What?  But I thought the BLUE was the ‘panic button,’ Mr. President!!!”), but also because they make me feel really knuckle-brained sometimes (”Um, HH, can you come pick me up?  I’m kind of stranded out here in the woods with The Girls. I’ve locked my keys in the car. . . and it’s running.*”).

Of course, that’s not to say that I don’t have my share of doozies lurking around in my past (though at least mine aren’t as egregious as the  Y2K fiasco, or 8-track tapes, or Julia Roberts in Mary Ryan, Steel Magnolias The Pelican Brief Stepmom anything except Pretty Woman).  True, there were those three months I dated philandering Rocker Guy (he of the black leather pants); but for the most part, my mistakes tend to the be the innocuous kind, such as dialing my friend Babe’s number when I meant to call the CFO instead (I may be great at remembering phone numbers, but I don’t always note to whom they are attached); or buying decaf instead of regular; or wearing stripes with paisley (which, as we all know, couldn’t possibly go together). 

And then there’s the entire gamut of food mistakes.

Salt instead of sugar?  Done it.  Chocolate seized while melting? Been there. Pie crust with soggy bottom?  Don’t ask. Noodles so al dente they could double as a gardening implement?  You betcha.  Usually, these mishaps don’t bother me too much.  Especially when it comes to baking, I realize that the process is so mercurial that what works perfectly one day may turn out completely different the next, so I compensate by adding extra sweetener, reducing the amount of flour, substituting a different kind of nut, or doing whatever is required to appease the petulant confection.   

When it comes to cooking, I’m less inclined to experiment.  Yet that’s exactly what I did this past weekend, purely as a result of my own gastronomical gaffes. 

You know how some women will work an entire outfit around a single accesory? For instance, they might spy a cute little fuschia-and-orange flowered scarf and then go out and purchase matching pumps, belt, handbag and turtleneck, just so they can wear that scarf to a dinner party on Saturday night.  In the end, that little rectangular scrap of rayon costs $872.48.  Well, I must confess, I am that woman when it comes to ingredients.  Which brings me to. . . . The Mistake of the Miso.

Mistake Number One:  On Sunday, I decided to construct a brunch menu based on some extra miso gravy in the fridge. Originally, I’d planned to serve the gravy with sweet potato fries for dinner on Saturday, only to discover that I’d grated the last potato as part of The Girls’ dinner the previous night.  (”And we really did appreciate that, Mum.  But don’t worry about the extra gravy–we’d be happy to help you out with that.”)

Having gravy but nothing to slather it on, my imagination went to work. Mashed potatoes and gravy at brunch?  Excellent. But what to accompany it?  I pulled out a recipe I’d been eyeing for Tempeh-White Bean sausage patties from Vegan with a Vengeance .  I planned to finish off the plate with simple pancakes sans the typical fanfare (my usual recipe contains fruit and other extras, not necessary here).  Everything, it appeared, was in order.  

Mistake Number Two: Since the sausages were somewhat time-intensive, I started with those. Isa does caution that these are softer than typical processed sausages, but mine fell completely apart on the plate, looking something like shards of clay from an old planter that had fallen off the windowsill.  Would the HH eat broken patties? They did smell heavenly, however, so I set any worries aside and kept them warm while I moved on to the pancakes.

Mistake Number Three: Ah, yes, bad things always come in threes, don’t they? Perhaps it was something in the air.  Perhaps it’s finally time to fill that new eyeglass prescription.  Whatever the reason, the pancakes were a disaster as well.  As thin as the line between sexy and hooker; as flat as the line before you call a Code Blue; and altogether too chewy, though not quite enough to cross the line from springy over to rubbery. I knew these would not pass HH muster, as my Honey favors airy, light, cake-like pancakes.  (”Mum, seriously, we can help you out with that! Just toss a couple our way. . . “).

These griddle cakes were, it occurred to me, much more akin to crepes than true pancakes (though, according to Epicurious, a crepe is “the French word for ‘pancake,’” which would suggest the only difference between the two is the language in which you mumble,  “Please pass the syrup”).  For many of us, however, crepes evoke a thinner, more flexible cake, suitable for enveloping a sweet or savory filling.  It’s sort of like the distinction between a scone and a biscuit, I think; but to get the scoop on that one, you’ll have to read Johanna’s blog.)

 So.  I found myself with crepes.  And decided to just go along with that. 

Rectifying all the Mistakes in a Single Delectable Brunch: In the end, I decided to re-assign the basic elements of the meal,  crumbling the sausages as if they were ground meat, and mixing in a few chopped veggies. I stuffed this mixture into the crepes, then smothered the whole shebang with miso gravy.  The dish was accompanied by a tried-and-true dandelion salad.

The resultant meal was a bit more elaborate than I’d anticipated, perhaps, but truly memorable. The HH appeared to relish every mouthful, peppering the meal with an occasional interjection of “Very nice,” or “Very tasty,” somewhat like Anthony Hopkins in 84 Charing Cross Road.  When he’d polished off the first crepe, he requested another, and thoroughly enjoyed that one, too. 

I once read that “there are no mistakes in cooking, only new recipes.”  I can only agree. And this new recipe is definitely a keeper–make no mistake about it.  

Because it worked out so well, I’m submitting this dish as my entry to Weekend Breakfast Blogging, the event started by Nandita and this month hosted by Suganya at Tasty Palettes.

Savory Filled Crepes

This dish makes a satisfying, filling brunch or light dinner.  Vary the filling ingredients according to your own tastes–we didn’t have any mushrooms when I made this, but I think they’d be excellent in the filling, too.

Filling:

“sausage” patties equivalent to about 5 patties, crumbled (I used the Tempeh-White Bean Sausages from Vegan with a Vengeance)

1 Tbsp. extra virgin olive oil

1 rib celery, diced

1 small onion, chopped

1/2 red pepper, chopped

Crepes:

3/4 cups plain soymilk

1 Tbsp. extra virgin olive oil

1 Tbsp. ground flax seeds

3/4 cups whole or light spelt flour

pinch salt

1 tsp. baking powder

1 recipe