Diet, Dessert and Dogs

[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.

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. . . 

Knock, knock.

Who’s there?

Gnocchi.

Gnocchi Who?

Gnocchi your socks off.

What?

Gnocchi three times.

Excuse me?

“Gnocchi Three Times on the Ceiling if You Wa-ant Me. . . Twice on the Pipes. . .”

Okay, I think that’s quite enough.  

You shouldn’t gnocchi a guy when he’s down. 

I said that’s it!  That’s all I’m gonna take!

Oh, come on. Be nice to me.  I went to the School of Hard Gnocchis.

All right, buddy, you asked for it– 

Look, don’t gnocchi it ’til you try it.

*    *   *   *   *   *

Now, judging by my little preamble here, you might surmise that I don’t take my gnocchi quite as seriously as I should.  I assure you, nothing could be further from the truth.  I fully understand the gravitas of gnocchi, believe me; in fact, I take them just as seriously as my job (extremely); or saving for retirement (nerve-rackingly); or even the well-being of The Girls (all-consumingly). 

(”Well, Mum, you know that we both take your well-being very seriously too, right?  Because if anything ever happened to you, how would we get our dinner?”)

I am well aware that the genesis of a good gnocchi is more art than skill; and also that I am, in that particular realm at least, neither artistically inclined nor very skilled.  Because the process usually requires planning, talent, and the equanimity of a Stepford wife, I have rarely ventured to attempt the challenge.  A shame, really, as I adore gnocchi.

In my long-ago wheat-eating days, I would snatch any opportunity to sample one of those freshly pinched and simmered Italian dumplings.  The HH and I patronized quite a range of small, family-owned Italian restaurants in our early days, and each boasted its own version of the little pasta pillows: smothered in Arrabiata with extra jalapenos mounded on the side; lightly pan-fried in olive oil, then sprinkled liberally with springy sage and dusted with freshly grated Parmesan; tossed gently in a vodka cream sauce with black olives and capers–I loved them all. I loved the slightly gooey exterior, the softly yielding chew, the smooth and subtle flavor that demanded a potato ricer to achieve.

Before today, I had yet to sample a spelt-based version of gnocchi.  (Seems they don’t serve spelt gnocchi in most Italian restaurants I’ve frequented. Quel surprise!). The few times I endeavored to cook up some of the light, spud-based morsels using a traditional recipe in the past, the result was a total flop.  Either the gnocchi were so hard and dense that they could be shot from a BB gun, or they turned out so soft and mushy that one might wonder where the pasta was hiding in this white, slushy gruel. And yet. . . and yet. . . they persisted in beckoning to me.  

So, last night, I threw caution to the winds, and allowed my passion for the little rascals to lead me into temptation.  I knew I’d likely get gnocchi’d up for my efforts, but just didn’t care.  After all, the outcome would be a bowl brimming with my delicious, darling pasta babies! Besides, I thought gnocchi would be the perfect submission to Ruth’s weekly Presto Pasta Night over at Once Upon a Feast.

I started with a fairly simple recipe for Spiced Carrot Gnocchi that I found in Gourmet Vegetarian by Jane Price, and adapted it according to my own dietary restrictions: no eggs and no wheat (replaced with silken tofu and a combination of whole spelt and oat flours, respectively).  I topped the gnocchi with a creamy, cheesy sauce of my own invention (I’ve had great luck with sauces in the past, thankfully), and sprinkled some chopped fresh parsley over top. 

How did it end up?  Well, let’s just say that the sauce was rich, creamy, and delicious, as expected.  As to my experiments with my potato nemesis? Well, I must confess that, once again, success eluded me.  Don’t get me wrong–they weren’t awful; in fact, the mildly sweet and dense chewiness was well complemented by the velvety, cheesy sauce.  Still, if you’re looking for the traditional version of this pasta, you won’t be satisfied with these. 

And I hate to admit it, I think I will finally put this kitchen quest behind me, once and for all.  That’s right–it’s time to gnocchi it off for good.

Spiced Carrot Gnocchi in Cream Sauce

The contrast between the dense, slightly chewy gnocchi and the velvety sauce is a pleasing one. These gnocchi were a little heavy and slightly sweet; if you’re okay with non-traditional pasta, you may enjoy these.

Spiced Carrot Gnocchi

Adapted from Gourmet Vegetarian by Jane Price

about 1/2 pound (200 g.) carrots, peeled and cut into chunks

2 cups (280 g.) whole spelt flour

3/4 cup (90 g.) whole oat flour

6 oz. (about 150 g.) silken firm tofu (such as Mori-Nu)

1 tsp. (5 ml.) ground Salba (chia seeds) or 1 Tbsp. (15 ml.) ground flax seeds

1 tsp. (5 ml.) lemon juice

1/2 tsp. (2.5 ml.) Garam Masala

Boil carrots in lightly salted water until tender; cool. While carrots are boiling, prepare Creamy Sauce (below); keep barely warm, covered, while you prepare the gnocchi.

Process carrots and tofu in a food processor until smooth.  Add the Salba, lemon juice and Garam Masala and process again to mix.  Turn into a large bowl.

Add the flours to the bowl and stir to mix (use your hands if necessary).  This will make a very soft, sticky dough (add more flour if needed until you can handle the dough).

Coat hands with flour and roll dough into long rolls about the width of your index finger (3/4 inch or 2 cm. thick).  Slice each roll into pieces about 1 inch (2.5 cm.) long. Press each lightly with the tines of a fork to create the typical gnocchi ridges.

Meanwhile, bring a large pot of water to the boil.  Lower heat to medium-low and add gnocchi, about a dozen or 15 at a time.  Boil until the gnocchi rise to the surface, then remove with a slotted spoon.  Keep warm until you boil the rest of the gnocchi.

When all the gnocchi are cooked, top with Creamy Sauce. Sprinkle with freshly chopped parsley, if desired.  Makes 4 large servings. 

 Creamy Sauce

This is an Alfredo-style sauce that would work beautifully over any kind of pasta.

1/2 cup (120 ml.) smooth cashew butter

1-1/2 Tbsp. (25 ml.) light miso

3 T. (45 ml.) lemon juice

3 Tbsp. (45 ml.) nutritional yeast

1 tsp. (5 ml.) onion powder

1/4 tsp. (2.5 ml.) garlic powder

1/8 tsp. (1.5 ml.) smoked paprika

1/2 cup (120 ml.) vegetable broth

1/2 cup (120 ml.) plain soymilk (not sweetened)

1 Tbsp. (15 ml.) organic cornstarch

In a blender, blend all ingredients until you have a smooth mixture.  Pour this into a small pot and heat over medium-low heat, stirring frequently, until sauce begins to bubble.  Simmer for about a minute, stirring constantly to prevent scorching, then pour over desired pasta.  If you prefer a thicker sauce, spoon out about 1/4 cup sauce and place in a small bowl, then mix with another teaspoon of cornstarch.  Return the mixture to the pot and simmer for another minute or so before using. 

I have to admit that I was never much of a pie person until very recently. 

“I mean, really,” I would ask pie-lovers, “What is it if not just an oddly-shaped fruit (or veggie) sandwich? Apples and cinnamon between two layers of crust. Blueberries between two layers of crust. Pumpkin between two layers of crust.”  Bah.

Oh, but that was just my cynical self, the one with pie envy, talking.  Once I learned to produce a truly great crust, all my counter-crust sentiments dissolved, like butter under your fingers. 

Traditional pastry, it seems, relies on the unique chemistry between cold fat and dry flour, cut into little bullets of butter or lard that subsequently melt and expand while baking, thereby creating pockets of air space.  If you’re not using solid fat in the mix, the crust simply doesn’t work out the same way, even if you DO refrigerate it; it just never achieves the same degree of tender flakiness.  As a result, I never had much success with pie crust. And because I don’t use margarines, the option of Earth Balance isn’t a possibility for me, either.

Every time I used to attempt a pie, I’d end up feeling a little like Jan, the “less-than” sister of the Brady Bunch: all I could do was clench my fists and wail, ”Crust, Crust, Crust!!” 

Well, once I discovered vegan baking and nut-based crusts, those floury flakes lost their ability to bully this baker! Even though I don’t make them very often, I now truly enjoy a good vegan pie, and the crust is just as appealing to me as the filling (though I still favor non-fruit fillings). 

After experimenting with various combinations of ingredients, I was completely euphoric to discover that a mixture of ground nuts and oats, with a healthy sprinkling of flour added in, served as an ideal base for vegan pie crust.  With that discovery in hand, there was no stopping me!  First, I made variations on traditional fruit-filled versions; then I moved on to explore pumpkin or sweet potato fillings; finally, I graduated to the much-loved vegan chocolate mousse and other “cheesecake” fillings.  But what next? (”How about a dog-friendly pie, Mum?  You know we love your crust!”)

Well, as I mentioned in an earlier post, I am either blessed or cursed with the strange ability to remember numbers of all types–phone numbers or addresses that I’ve encountered once, weird statistics (like, did you know that 1 in 3 Americans can’t properly decode a bus schedule?), or single numerals from something I learned long ago (for instance, all I now recall from high school chemistry, a course in which I excelled at the time, is Avogadro’s Number: 6.02 x 10²³ ). Similarly, I do remember that Pi is 3.14 (more or less)–though of course, I’ve never had a single occasion to make use of that fact. 

Except for now!  As it turns out, Kitchen Parade is hosting a Pie/Pi event this month: “Pi Day: Recipes for Homemade Pie.” Well, that suited me just fine, as I’m now happy to participate with both types of “pie/pi.”  And I immediately thought of the perfect filling for my entry. (”Yay! A pie for us! What a great Mum!”)

As I mentioned in yesterday’s post, I was recently fortunate enough to spend a week testing out my new cookbook, Vegan Express by Nava Atlas, and  fixed my sights on the very last recipe in the book, Butterscotch Mousse Pie.  Butterscotch is one of my favorite flavors after chocolate–and guess what?  This pie has both!  Soft and airy, the filling is a cross between a mousse and a custard, with a butterscotch flavor well represented by brown rice syrup and butterscotch extract.  It was a big hit with my HH , who is normally a cow’s dairy kind of guy. (”But Mum. . . you know we can’t have chocolate. . . Aw, Mum, crust, crust, crust!”)

Nava has kindly allowed me to reprint the recipe here, so I’m going to copy it verbatim from the book (with any adjustments I made in square brackets beside the original instructions).  I gussied it up a bit with my own version of whipped cream (the recipe for which I’ll post anon), so hope you like it!

To make the entire pie gluten-free, just use a GF pie crust; the filling and topping are both already gluten free.

Butterscotch Mousse Pie

Nava notes: “As I mentioned in Butterscotch Apples, I adore this seductive extract.  If you do too, the scent of the pie as it bakes and cools will drive you mad. And I can almost guarantee that the rich flavor won’t disappoint. You can find good-quality graham-cracker crusts in natural foods stores or the natural foods section of supermarkets.” 

Makes one 9-inch pie.  Six to eight servings.

One 16-ounce tub silken tofu [I used an equivalent amount of firm-silken Mori-Nu]

1/3 cup cashew butter

1/3 cup brown rice syrup [I used a bit more, as we preferred it a bit sweeter--about 1/2 cup]

2 tsp. butterscotch extract

1 tsp pure vanilla extract

One 9-inch vegan chocolate graham cracker crust [I used my own crust--recipe below]

2 Tbsp. dairy-free chocolate chips

2 Tbsp. rice milk

1. Prepare pie crust if making from scratch.

2. Preheat the oven to 350F.

3. Combine the tofu, cashew butter, rice syrup, butterscotch extract and vanilla in a food processor and process until creamy and completely smooth. Pour the mixture into the crust.

4. Combine the chocolate chips and rice milk in a small saucepan and heat gently. Whisk together until smooth. Or, combine the chocolate chips and rice milk in a small bowl, heat in a microwavae for about 45 seconds or until melted, then whisk together.

5. Drizzle the melted chocolate over the top of the pie. Using a spoon [I used a knife], gently create swirl patterns.

6. Bake for 40 to 45 minutes, or until the pie feels set in the center. Cool competely, then serve. If time allows, chill before serving. [I chilled the pie about 2 hours before topping with "cream" and serving. ]

Buttery, Rich Oat-Nut Pie Crust

This version, while unlike a traditional pastry crust, is nevertheless rich-tasting, and crumbles delicately, melting beautifully on the tongue.  

(”We do love this crust, Mum!  Maybe just a taste of this part–??”)

1/2 cup (55 g.) whole barley flour

1/4 cup (60 ml.) ground flax seeds

1/2 cup (120 ml.) whole rolled oats (not quick-cooking)

1/2 cup (60 g.) walnut pieces

1/4 tsp. sea salt

2-3 Tbsp. pure maple syrup

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

In a food processor, combine the flour, flax, nuts, and salt until you have a uniform, fine meal (there shouldn’t be any detectable bits of nut in it, though you may see bits of oats). 

Drizzle the maple syrup and oil evenly over the top, then pulse a few times just until well-blended and the mixture comes together.  It will be a soft dough, a little sticky, but not so sticky that it adheres to your hand when you pat it into the pie plate (if it’s too soft or sticky, sprinkle with another tablespoon or two of flour and mix in by hand).

Press the dough into a lightly greased 9″ pie plate and flute sides if desired.  Dock the crust by poking holes with a fork evenly over the surface.

For pre-baked crusts: Bake for 15-25 minutes at 375F (190 C), until golden brown throughout.

For crusts that will be baked with the pie:  prebake for 10 minutes at 350F (180C), until the crust begins to puff a bit and appears dry on the top.

  As you may know, I was a startled and very delighted recipient of Nava Atlas’s latest cookbook, Vegan Express, as a result of Susan’s contest a while back on Fat-Free Vegan Kitchen.  A couple of weeks ago, I was thrilled to receive the book in the mail, and set about making a whack of recipes from it.  I thought I’d write a bona fide book review so you can all get your own taste of express cooking, vegan style! (Oh, and all you mass-market, consumer magazines out there?  Feel free to request a reprint!). 

Vegan Express by Nava Atlas

Vegan Express is the most recent addition to the long line of popular publications by veteran cookbook author Nava Atlas, already well known for her previous classics such as Vegetariana or The Vegetarian Family Cookbook and website, In A Vegetarian Kitchen.  A vegan herself, in this book Atlas addresses one of the foremost hurdles for vegan eaters, both established and newly inclined: prepping veggies can take up lots of time!   

Vegan Express provides an antidote for the kitchen weary by proving the truism untrue after all: turns out you can prepare fresh, healthy, vegetable-rich dishes in less time than it takes to watch the evening newscast!  Every recipe in the book, from appetizer to dessert, takes between 30 and 45 minutes from assembling the ingredients to digging your fork into that first steaming mouthful (and many take even less time).  

In order to write an objective assessment of the book, I decided it would only be fair to test as broad a range of recipes as I could manage in a week. As a result, I prepared seven of the book’s recipes, attempting to sample dishes from many different courses (though, given my natural inclination, I did lean rather heavily on the desserts). 

The book begins with Atlas’s own story of how she converted from vegetarianism to a vegan diet. She actually found the transition fairly easy, as nowadays, substitutions for eggs, cheese, and milk abound, even outside the larger  cities.

The book also discusses vegans’ nutritional needs and how to achieve them, debunking some common myths about acquiring sufficient protein or vitamin B12. And while Atlas does include some convenience foods (this is a book about cooking shortcuts, after all!), I had no problem using the recipes even though I don’t consume products such as soy cheeses or meat alternatives (as you’ll see when I discuss the pizza, below). 

The book also contains a variety of ease-of-use features to help home cooks prepare their meals in a flash. For instance, following each recipe is a “Menu Selections” sidebar that provides possible partners for the dish or other ways to serve it. Many recipes include variations for flexibility and to accommodate different tastes. There is also a fair number of “recipe-free” quick options, as well as further suggestions for some basic ingredients (such as “Speedy Ways to Prepare Tofu”). 

The book’s design is aesthetically pleasing, with clean, simple lines and two-color print (and how could we miss those luscious, color-suffused photos by Susan Voisin of Fat-Free Vegan Kitchen?).  Many of her readers may not be aware that Atlas herself is an artist with several solo and group exhibitions to her credit. Her cheery line drawings adorn the pages as backdrops that highlight individual dishes and ingredients.  

And the recipes?  They do, indeed, deliver as promised! All the dishes I attempted were quick to prepare, with straightforward, easy directions. Atlas also includes some nifty tips with certain recipes (such as cutting your pizza into slices before adding the toppings, as it’s so much easier that way). 

Finally, here’s what was cooking in the DDD kitchen last week:  

Soup and Entrees: 

Nearly Instant Thai Coconut Corn Soup

This is listed as one of Atlas’s favorite recipes, and a “must-try” for those who buy the book. As its title suggests, the soup cooks up in no time, and was truly delicious–light yet creamy, with a subtle spiciness interspersed with sweet, chewy corn kernels.  Fast, simple, easy…perfect.   

Singapore Noodles 

I’ve was a huge fan of Singapore noodles in restaurants back in the day, but could never figure out how to make them. Who knew it could be so simple?  The HH and I both love spicy foods, so if I had any suggestions for this one, it would be to add more of the spice mixture (I used the maximum amount suggested and would have liked still more kick in this dish). The original recipe called for peas, but since we didn’t have any, I subbed edamame.  Still worked beautifully. 

Rich Peanut Sauce

This sauce, suggested as an accompaniment to Golden Tofu Triangles, was ready in a snap.  Still in a noodle frame of mind, I poured it over some cooked kamut-soba noodles, tossed in an assortment of chopped and sliced veggies, and enjoyed a terrific cold noodle salad. Great the next day, too! 

Very Green Veggie Pesto Pizza

  This dish was by far the biggest hit of the savories–the HH ate half the pizza all by himself, and I must admit it was my own favorite as well.  My photo doesn’t do it justice, as the subtle variance in shades of green comes across here as rather monochromatic, but this combination of pesto underlying oven-roasted veggies is a perfect melding of flavors and textures.   

One change I made, however, was to omit the “cheese” originally called for (to be melted over the pesto, and under the veggies).  Since I avoid processed soy, I simply omitted that ingredient and  sprinkled a little nutritional yeast over the top instead.  Both the HH and I agreed that the pizza didn’t even need the cheese, which, I think, would have actually detracted  from the disarming flavors of the pesto and veggies.  For the crust, I used my own trusty spelt pizza crust recipe, and baked it about 15 minutes at 425F before adding the remaining ingredients.    

Desserts:

While Atlas’s recipes are already healthy, I did make some minor adjustments to accommodate my own dietary restrictions. In general, I used spelt flour instead of wheat, and Sucanat for sugar.  It didn’t seem to matter—everything still came out terrific. 

Dense and Fruity Banana Bread

This is a moist, not-too-sweet loaf with chopped dates and walnuts nestled in a banana-cocoa base.  As you can see from the photo, I was so anxious to try this one that I sliced it while still a bit too warm.  When I first tasted the bread, the cocoa was extremely understated. By the next day, however, the flavors had matured, yielding a lovely balance between the chocolate and fruit.  I thoroughly enjoyed this with some almond butter.  

Chocolate Chip Peanut Butter Cake

This cake reminded me of treats my mother used to make when my sisters and I were kids.  Baked in a 9” square pan and cut into squares, this is the perfect after-school snack (lucky for me, I’m still in school!).  Peanut butter whispers its presence rather than bellows in this surprisingly light and tender cake.  As you can see, I cut this one while still warm, too, when the chips were still melty. Cut your slices small, because you’ll want more than one. 

Butterscotch Mousse Pie

I had really, really wanted to try out the Caramel Pudding, but since I couldn’t find vegan caramel syrup and didn’t think my homemade caramel would work, I made this pie instead.  I’m so glad I did!  Although I’m not usually a “pie person,” this was truly delicious.  In fact, I’m going to post an entire entry about this one (including the recipe!!) in the next day or two—so stay tuned.  

I had enormous fun trying out the recipes from this useful and enjoyable book, and definitely look forward to sampling more. Thanks again, Nava and Susan, for this wonderful opportunity–and for adding another treasure to my cookbook collection.

Why, oh why did I choose Sundays? What was I thinking?  I must have been on a chocolate high at the time and totally out of it.  Otherwise, why on EARTH would any sane person choose Sunday morning to track her weight loss (which, at this point, is actually a misnomer; for, as of this morning, I am now tracking my weight gain.  Oh, woe).  

Well, I suppose I can take some small comfort in the fact that we spent all of last evening at a spectacular birthday bash for my friend Gemini I’s husband. And, given that my mouth was basically open for business between 6:00 PM and midnight last night, I’m assuming some of this is temporary (I’m hoping. . . .).  Enough self-recriminations–must move onward!  And man, that gal sure knows how to throw a party. 

For your entertainment pleasure, I thought I’d try to remember as many as I can of the continual flow of appetizers and h’ors doeuvres that floated by all evening, aloft many a wait-staff’s capable hands. In addition to a huge buffet table heaving with platters of cheese, crackers, olives, breads and spreads and cut fruits, there was also an endless array of hot and cold appetizers, including stuffed button mushrooms, garlic-stuffed olives, one-bite caramelized onion quiches, mini crab cakes with wasabi dollops, bocconcini-stuffed sundried tomatoes, mini shrimp dumplings, mini hamburgers (yes, with mini buns–looked like plastic toys, actually!), mini cold rice paper spring rolls, chicken satay skewers, mini grilled cheese sandwiches, and a probably six or seven other choices I’ve forgotten. 

The dessert trays were deadly, heaped with one-bite brownies in three or four flavors, double-chocolate chip cookies and plain ole vanilla ones, three kinds of biscotti, miniature individualized banana splits served in shot glasses, all topped off by the birthday cake, an enormous rectangle of vanilla sponge decked out with cream and fresh strawberries, all tied up with white chocolate ribbons and bows. 

One side of the room served as a bar station, where servers were generously dispensing custom pomegranate-blueberry martinis (I have no idea what else was in it, but it was delicious) and any type of wine or liquor you choose.  I was thrilled to see my favorite Australian shiraz in the group. . . all I can say is, good thing I wasn’t the designated driver last evening (thanks, HH!).

As it turns out, Gemini II’s daughter is actuallly a vegetarian in a highly carnivorous family, so there were lots of veggie options there–though I’m not sure whether that was actually good for me or not.  I threw WOCA to the winds and ate more than my fair share (and am paying the price for all that wheat I consumed).  

Which leads me to. . . .salad.  After that kind of indulgence, today I’m craving something basic.  A simple, cleansing salad seems in order. 

Now, I must admit that I’ve never really been a salad person.  Is it because I don’t like salads?  No, that wouldn’t be the reason; I thoroughly enjoy my mixed baby greens, for instance, whenever the HH and I have dinner at one of our local haunts.  After reading about the need to properly toss a salad on The Good Eatah’s blog recently, I thought my tossing skills might not be up to snuff.  Or maybe the idea of cold, raw veggies smack dab in the middle of a cold, raw winter is just too painful to bear? But that’s not it, either; I do still enjoy munching on my cold, raw apples and grapefruit.

Part of my aversion to salads may be rooted in the meals of my childhood, when “salad” meant iceberg lettuce, woody tomatoes, and wobbly cucumber slices, unceremoniously slathered with mayonnaise.  Still, I was confident that years of therapy had finally eradicated that association. No, I’ve decided that the reason for my anti-salad stance is actually twofold:  first, being basically lazy, I’ve always found it just so much work to wash, peel, and cut up all the veggies.  And second, my frugal (okay, downright cheap) nature has too often prevented me from taking advantage of time-saving salads-in-a-bag, as I’m unwilling to fork over my hard-earned discretionary spending money on those overinflated prices. You see my dilemma.

Still, once in a while I encounter a salad that does seem worth the extra effort, and today’s recipe came to mind.  Just like a fulfilling relationship, a bowl of delectable salad greens may take some work, but the result is eminently satisfying (hear that, HH?). Such is the case with several of our staple salads here in the DDD household, such as the Asian-Inspired Napa Cabbage Salad, the always-popular “Broccoli Delight” from my friend Caroline’s cookbook, or the super-easy and absolutely irresistible Raw Kale salad (”Ohh, Mum, that kale salad is our favorite!  Pick that one!”).  All these are delicious (and I’ll post recipes in future), but this time, I favored dandelion.

This simple, appealing salad accompanied our highly successful Savory Stuffed Crepes, which the HH and I enjoyed for brunch the other day.  Originally, this recipe called for the duo of pears and dandelion, but once, when I ran out of pears I subbed apples, and have now come to prefer the latter combination. 

I first tasted dandelion greens during my year studying nutrition, but had been daydreaming about them since my early twenties, when I read the novel The Bone People by New Zealand author Keri Hulme. In the book, the protagonist (an eccentric hermit whose lifestyle I sorely envied at the time) produced her own dandelion wine.  Well, if I can’t have the wine, I suppose the leaves will have to do. . . .but I would still love to sample that fermented version one day.

The salad marries a subtle, slightly sweet and creamy dressing with the bitter gusto of the dandelion.  Being high in calcium and other minerals, dandelions are a natural health food.  They’re also a great liver tonic, stimulating that all-important organ to filter the “bad” cholesterol out of the body.  And after all that booze last night. . . .well, come to think of it, I could have used a fresh juice with some dandelion leaves in it, too!

The recipe produces an abundance of fresh dressing that pools gently at the bottom of the bowl, perfect for sopping up with scraps of bread or for treating The Girls to a dressing-topped dinner. (”Um, Mum, did we hear that correctly?”) Overall, the salad is crisp, light, and very refreshing.  (”Didn’t you just say, ‘dinner,’ Mum?”) And it offers a fabulous array of minerals and vitamins. (”We were sure we heard ‘dinner.’ Isn’t that right, Mum?”)  And, as dandelion is both a high-antioxidant food and a leafy green, I’m submitting this recipe as my contribution to Sweetnicks’ weekly ARF/5-A-Day roundup (check it out on Tuesday evenings). It would make the perfect accompaniment to a healthy dinner.  (”Knew it!  Is it time yet?  So, when do we get some?“)

 Bittersweet Salad with Apples and Dandelion Greens

adapted from Enlightened Eating by Caroline Dupont

The recipe was created by the exceedingly talented Jennifer Italiano, owner of Toronto’s first all-raw restaurant and one of my personal favorites, Live Organic Food Bar (they’ve now expanded the menu options to include macrobiotic and some other cooked items). 

1/4 cup tahini (may be raw)

1 cup freshly squeezed orange juice (I’ve used reconstituted, and it’s not as good)

2 Tbsp. dulce (or other dried seaweed) flakes

1 Tbsp. freshly grated ginger root

1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon

1/2 tsp. curry powder

pinch salt

1 large bunch dandelion greens, large stems removed, chopped

2 pears or apples (I used fuji), cored and thinly sliced

1/4-1/2 red onion, thinly sliced

 In a blender or in a bowl and using an immersion blender, mix all ingredients thoroughly (until the seaweed is well pulverized).

In a large salad bowl, combine the dandelion, pear, and onion.  Pour the dressing over all and toss gently. 

Allow to sit for at least 10 minutes (up to 2 hours), to marinate.  Makes 4 servings (two in our house). 

*or, How to Get Your Meat-Loving Guy to Love a Vegan Meal

How often does this happen to you?  (I promise, this is not an infomercial):  You come across a new recipe that sounds wonderful, and, fired up with anticipation, you can’t wait to try it.   You rush home, prepare the dish, and it’s received to unanimous acclaim.  This recipe instantly becomes your “go-to” dish, and you repeat the performance over and over many times during the following weeks.  You keep returning to this item, in fact, and it instantly pops into your head whenever you think about what to cook. The page for that recipe in your cookbook acquires the rippled, stained appearance of a trusty pair of Keds you’ve worn for a whole summer, through mud and grass and lakes, covered as it is in little splatters of sauce and oil and water.  

And then–just like that–you happen upon a new recipe, one that piques your interest just as much as the other one, and you abandon your old standard as easily as the office gossip moves on to the next best friend.  It’s not that you don’t enjoy it any longer; it’s just that it has run its course, and now you feel like trying something new.  And so there’s another novel recipe that you try out to universal accolades. . . and the cycle continues.

Well, a few evenings ago, I met my friend the Eternal Optimist for a chatty dinner at a lovely restaurant in town that serves pan-Asian food.  What’s great about this place is that, along with their hip, funky, lacquered decor and fabulous grub, their multi-page menu devotes one full spread just to “Vegetarian Meals.”  And they’re always happy to do up a tofu-based version of their Chicken-Lettuce Wrap for me, which means I get to enjoy their awesome hoisin sauce and eat an entire dinner for under $10.00. 

That night, however, I opted for a spicy rice noodle dish with eggplant and basil, lip-smacking good. And while I was patiently grappling with the shimmering, slippery noodles between my chopsticks, I was reminded of a recipe I used to make over and over, a couple of years ago, and then suddenly abandoned:  Bangkok Noodles.

The recipe comes from a wonderful cookbook I found in a remainder bin a few years ago, called the Fruit Cookbook, by Nicole Routhier.  It’s one of those tomes that contains a plethora of interesting recipes, but few that seemed practical to me (as I would have had to buy an entire package of one ingredient for 1/4 teaspoon in the recipe).  In the end, I think I tried out maybe a half dozen recipes from that book, and while they were all very good, I set it aside and promptly forgot about it.  

This week, however, my memory and the available ingredients came together in a perfect confluence of desire and means. Just that morning, I had peeled and cut a fresh pineapple, leaving the juicy golden chunks in a container in the fridge for later consumption.  And, as it happened, this dish calls for pineapple chunks. Time to resurrect the Bangkok Noodles!

Because my HH and I have vastly different eating styles, this recipe is perfect to bridge the chasm:  I make up the noodles as I like them, serve up two plates, and the HH tops his own with some pre-cooked shrimp.  The perfect compromise, and we both get to enjoy a meal we like. 

The HH didn’t really remember this dish before I served it, as it’s been at least 2 years since I last cooked it.  I’ve always loved the combination of curry spice with smooth, velvety coconut milk, and, as is my wont, I added extra veggies to the recipe (which, actually, calls for none). I also love the play of colors in this meal, as well as the alternating crunchy, juicy, lustrous and sturdy textures. 

My HH was a little skeptical when he saw the vegetable-heavy ingredients bathed in the deep golden sauce, but was comforted by his own stash of cooked crustacean placed in a heap on top of the noodles.  After we dished it up, we sat down at the table, slurping up our noodles across from each other in contented silence.

And then, in the middle of the meal, it happened.  The HH said something he’s never said before, not in the almost-eleven years I’ve known him. 

HE SAID:

“You know, this doesn’t really even need the shrimp. It would be just as good without it.” 

And suddenly–The skies were flooded with light! 

And the sea parted and The Girls ran into the opening, chasing after the graven image of the calf (they didn’t realize it wasn’t real!).

The lands became fecund and there was new life, and legions of young veggies sprang up and they overtook the shrimp!

And so, Paradise was born, right in my little kitchen.  And it was good. 

It was very, very good.

Okay, I’ll concede, maybe the HH’s comment wasn’t quite that miraculous, in the grand scheme of things.  But it was the very first time he’s suggested that a vegetarian main course did not require the addition of animal flesh.  Perhaps there’s hope yet.  Only problem is, I probably won’t be cooking this for another 2 years or so.

However, for those of you looking to please a carnivore with a vegetarian entree, I’d definitely recommend you give this a try. And since this noodle dish appears capable of inspiring a conversion of sorts, I figured it might just be good enough for Ruth’s huge birthday bash over at  Once Upon a Feast. I’m submitting this recipe for the Presto Pasta night’s one-year anniversary event. 

Bangkok Noodles with Cashews and Pineapple

adapted from the Fruit Cookbook by Nicole Routhier

Bangkok Noodles with Cashews and Pineapple

Despite the long list of ingredients, this dish comes together fairly quickly.  It’s also infinitely adaptable to your own tastes in vegetables–I just add what I have on hand and look forward to a slightly different experience each time I make it.

[Note:  I've added my own changes/additions to the original in square brackets.]

1 Tbsp. extra virgin olive oil

1 cup chopped onions

1 Tbsp. minced garlic

[1/2 medium eggplant, peeled and cut into chunks]

2 tsp. Thai yellow curry paste

1 Tbsp. curry powder, preferably Madras brand

1-1/2 cups unsweetened coconut milk, well-stirred

1 cup chicken broth [I used vegetable]

1-1/2 tsp. sugar [I used agave nectar]

3 Tbsp. Thai fish sauce [I used tamari soy sauce]

[1 red pepper, cut in 1-" squares]

[1/2 cup green beans, trimmed]

[1 Tbsp. organic cornstarch, if needed]

1 pound dried rice noodles (the flat, long kind)

1-1/2 cups coarsely chopped fresh pineapple

[1/2 cup toasted cashews]

1/2 cup finely shredded (chiffonade) basil

Place noodles in a large bowl and cover with boiling water.  Allow to soak about 7 minutes, until al dente.  Drain and keep covered while you prepare the sauce.

Heat the oil in a large frypan or wok over medium heat.  Add the onion, garlic, and eggplant, and saute until the onion is translucent, about 5 minutes. Add the curry paste and powder. Cook, mashing the curry paste with the back of a spoon, until the mixture is aromatic, another minute or so.

Stir in the coconut milk, broth, sugar, soy sauce, and remaining vegetables. When the liquid comes to a boil, reduce the heat and gently simmer until the sauce has thickened, about 2 to 3 minutes.  [My sauce didn't thicken.  So I skimmed off about 1/4 cup liquid, mixed it with 1 Tbsp. cornstarch, and returned that mixture to the pot, allowing it to simmer for another couple of minutes, and this thickened the sauce enough.]

Add the pineapple and cashews along with the noodles, and stir to coat, until it is heated through, about another minute.  Remove the pan from the heat and stir in the basil.

Makes 4-6 servings.

Even though this morning was the first day of my chocolate detox, that didn’t stop me from having a whale of a time at our (slightly postponed) Valentine’s Day Dinner last evening.  With the weather being as inclement as ever, the HH and I began prepping our meal around 3:30 PM, and just kept at it till the whole darn thing was ready and we could devour it.  I thought I’d provide a quick recap of my last evening of dining decadence for  a while.   (Thanks Sally, Jamie, Theresa and Johanna for your great suggestions!)

To commence the festivities, the HH poured each of us a glass of our favorite cut-rate bubbly, a Spanish cava that I think rivals true champagne.  Here’s the bottle next to one of our special-occasion glasses (purchased just before the turn of the century, in fact!).

Instead of my original appetizer idea for ”neat” balls in a sweet and sour sauce, I decided to try Johanna’s Nutroast from Green Gourmet Giraffe. I had planned to make it into balls, but when freshly blended, the mixture seemed too soft, and I was afraid it would fall apart simmering in a sauce. So I just baked it in a square pan, and we then cut it into appetizer-sized squares.  I made only minor adjustments to the recipe (miso for yeast extract, spelt breadcrumbs for regular), but otherwise followed Johanna’s excellent recipe exactly.

The planned sauce was one from my childhood, something my Boston cousin used to whip up all the time, in the spirit of “1980s suburban mom must have dinner for 5 on the table in 25 minutes.” The dish was called ”Chili and Grape Meatballs.”  Now, before you politely excuse yourself and dash from the room, I know it sounds rather, well, purple. Yet there was something very tempting about the combination of sweet, sour and spicy, with a modicum of ”barbecue” thrown in. 

In an attempt to channel that tangy, sugary spirit (and also to use up a bottle of chili sauce in our panty–from whence I have no idea, it’s that old), I created two dipping sauces for the nutroast.  Each contained an equal portion of the sauce (which, as far as I could tell from the ingredients, is basically just a spicy ketchup), and either marmalade or apple butter.  The apple butter-chili version was, hands down, the preferred one. 

But the nutroast?  All I can say is, “I love nutroast! Nutroast is King! LONG LIVE NUTROAST!!”  The HH was very fond of it, too.  In fact, I would have been satisfied with an entire dinner of just the nutroast, salad (Veganomicon’s Caesar, yet again) and that marvelous soup. (But then, insisted the HH, it wouldn’t have been a “real” meal.)  So we ended up having the pasta, too, but without the smoked tofu, as I just didn’t think I could bear something else heavy at that point (and I knew pie was coming later). I also took Jamie’s suggestion for chocolate-dipped fruit (strawberries), as I really couldn’t have an entire meal sans chocolate the very night before banning it from my diet entirely!

And so, without further ado, here’s the rest of our feast from the evening:

Cream of Olive Soup: 

This was simply spectacular (and yes, it was that grey-green color you see here).  As I mentioned in a previous post, this is a soup I recall eating in my twenties, and the creamy, silky memory has lingered this long.  I was determined to reproduce it. 

I began with a recipe that’s everywhere on the internet and adapted it to our tastes; I used half green and half black olives and held back about one quarter of these when I pureed the rest (and chopped those very fine, to then be returned to the soup).  Even substituting soymilk for the cream, the result was a smooth, salty, overflowing-with-olive sensation.  If you like olives, you will love this soup.

Pesto Pasta and Caesar Salad: 

The pasta does, I admit, appear very green here.  By omitting the tofu, we were left with just pesto pasta and sundried tomatoes, so we added edamame at the last minute.  While the combination was, indeed, pretty tasty, I think the pesto could have used more basil.

Next up, dessert!  By this point, we were so stuffed that we decided to take a break and tidy up a bit.  To say that we are “messy” cooks would not only be an understatement, it would actually be a compliment. You may, indeed, wonder how two fairly well educated, calm and rational people could create such a welter of utensils, pots, pans, spilled sauce, squirts of oil, miscellaneous soiled tea towels and other mayhem when cooking together (why, shame on you!  Of course all we were doing was cooking together!).  Me, too. But, hey, I’m not too proud to share it all–so here’s a pic of the post-apocalyptic kitchen:

Dessert: Banoffee Pie

My attempt at vegan Banoffee Pie was sincere, but less than successful, I’d say. While not a total failure, it didn’t quite hit the mark I’d intended.  First, I whipped up my “cream,” which did manage to hold together well:

After baking the pie crust and letting it cool, I sliced bananas and scattered them evenly over the bottom, then poured the caramel over top:

This base was then topped with the aforementioned cream:

 So far, so good, right?  Even though the caramel was rather thick and usually cools down to a solid state, some weird alchemy went on under that whipped cream.  By the time we finally cut into the pie several hours later, some of the caramel had dissolved, transforming it into caramel sauce that oozed out in dilatory rivulets from under each slice.  What to do? In the end, I used the “sauce” as a drizzle over the top of the pie, and we still enjoyed it immensely.  (I’ll still need to do a bit of refining before I’m ready to serve the pie to guests, I think).

This morning, after waking up still stuffed from the meal, I was definitely ready to embark on the Week of Chocolate Asceticism (WOCA), which I’ll discuss more next time.  On the other hand, the HH wasn’t quite as fulfilled by yesterday’s all-vegan Valentine’s Day dinner. As he prepared his morning coffee, he casually remarked, “You know, that dinner was really good yesterday. But by nine o’clock, I was already hungry enough for another one.”  

Well, my beloved HH, I guess you’ll just have to wait until next year. 

*Or, Chasing That Rabbit Seems the Easier Option Right About Now

So what’s a blog that focuses primarily on healthy foods doing with an entry on donuts?

I may not have consumed any of these sweet treats in the past 8 years or so, but I am a lifelong member of the “I Love Donuts” fan club. Well, cake donuts, anyway. As everyone knows, there are two types of donuts in the world: the airy, yeasty kind, and the denser, cakey kind.  (Which basically means that, as a donut lover, you can be either an airhead or dense.). 

In our house, for instance, the HH is the light, yeast-based aficionado while I’m the fan of heavier, cakelike donuts.  Several years ago, I came across a recipe for yeast-free blueberry donuts on Emeril’s webpage.  I immediately printed it off and made them that very night, and, I can honestly attest, they were fabulous.  With the tender, cakelike interior and thick, slightly crunchy-pebbly glazed exterior, each one offered up sweetness and a succession of juicy, tart mini-explosions courtesy of the berries scattered throughout.  I enjoyed every mouthful of that sugary, fried yumminess, knowing it was likely the last “conventional” donut I’d eat. 

Now, it’s not as if I dream about donuts or anything. I don’t consciously yearn for them on a regular basis, nor do I even emit a little whine in their general direction whenever I drive past a donut shop.  No, once I determined to change my diet several years ago (even though I couldn’t bear to give up desserts entirely), I simply put donuts out of my mind.  I set them aside in the little back room of my memory, where they remained in storage next to other items in that mental locker, like my pair of old, hand-embroidered overalls; my undergrad essays on The Canterbury Tales or Blake; the childhood birthday cards from my aunts and uncles; or the cassette tape of songs that Rocker Guy (he of the black leather pants) wrote, and gave to me as a gift the week before he went back to his old girlfriend. 

In other words, I was still aware of the existence of donuts somewhere in the universe,  but the thought of them didn’t really infiltrate any of my conscious thoughts.

Until yesterday.  Ah, that was when I happened upon the blog event hosted by Peabody and Tartelette called Time to Make the Donuts.  Devotees of The Secret and its new-age philosophy would say I brought this upon myself, that I set an INTENTION to call donuts back into my life–that I had a deep seated, unrelenting, subliminal desire to once again taste at least one more teeny morsel of that cakey, dense, nutmeg-dusted confection.

But naw.  I just felt like baking donuts.

And so the challenge began.  Like Alice in her Wonderland, I found myself surrounded by concepts that at first glance seemed familiar, yet were not as they were supposed to be:  my fantasty donut was tender and cakelike like the “real” thing, but baked rather than fried (I knew I couldn’t wander that far from my newfound eating habits); and it had to have organic, whole ingredients while still being vegan. 

And so, there I went, down the donut hole!

Attempt Number One: 

  I started out by adapting a basic recipe for “Cake Donuts” from Joy of Cooking, making the usual substitutions for the eggs, flour, and sugar. This initial result gave me what were essentially hard, circular cookies.  Not very sweet or tasty cookies, either. Verdict:  trash ‘em.

 Attempt Number Two:

On to the next batch! These, too, were flat, hard, and yes, dense; not donuts, exactly, but more like horseshoes that had somehow been forged incorrectly and melded together on the open end.  Verdict: Into the garbage!

Was it time to give in, and just fry the damn things?  But no, I’d come this far. I couldn’t give up now!

In a bit of a tizzy, I let my mind wander toward other donut-shaped foods to see if I couldn’t come up with something novel (I really didn’t want to relent and just bake donut “holes”).  Just give it up, I thought, the deadline is February 12th!  Are you crazy? You don’t have time to reinvent the donut by then.

But then, it hit me: Rue St. Viateur.

St. Viateur Street in Montreal is home of a small, cramped  bakery that my dad would take us to every Sunday morning. This was the shop we’d drive for 40 minutes across the city to reach, through one suburb after another until we finally came upon the small wooden door set in grey stone. 

After circling the block for 15 or so minutes to find a parking spot, we’d head to the old, grimy building and join the lineup along with scores of other people standing shoulder to shoulder, the vibrating queue snaking out of the store and round the block. There, we’d wait for almost an hour as heat escaped out the door in excited bursts and brought with it a mist made of honey-water, creating its own billowing breeze of sweetness in the air.

All this, just to receive the ultimate prize: our very own brown paper bag filled with a dozen fresh, steaming, soft and glossy bagels that had just been pulled from an old-fashioned wood burning oven on a huge and well-worn wooden paddle.   

Eureka!  That was it!  I’d do a sweet variation on those bagels!  A donut-bagel!  A dogel! (Of course, I loved this new invention immediately; how could I not, what with the its first syllable being “dog,” and all?).

So I took my mind for another quick stroll and recalled how those sooty, sweaty, paddle-toting bagel bakers performed their magic at the tiny outlet that was St. Viateur Bagels. With one flick of the fingers, they’d expertly twist a roll of dough into a bagel shape. With a swift pinch to hold the ends together, the men dropped the dough into simmering vats of honey-water, just for a minute, which sealed the exterior “skin” of the bagel and also bathed it in a light, subtle sweet glaze that offered up the most golden, glorious sheen once baked. 

Dogels, here I come.

Attempt Number Three:

 The result of this final venture, I’m happy to say, far outshone the other two, and produced a donut that was almost authentic in its cakelike texture. I’m still working out the details, but that didn’t stop me from enjoying a couple of these fragrant, soft and tempting delights.  Verdict:  A keeper!

As far as hybrids go, I’d say the dogel was one of my favorites. In fact, I loved it almost as much as a similar hybrid in my house, the Borador. Though there’s no denying that I’m partial to the latter.

(”What a great adventure, Mum! But, um, where’s this rabbit we’re supposed to be chasing?”)

P.S.  I’m still actively soliciting recipe ideas for my Valentine’s Day dinner, so if you’ve got a salad, entree, or dessert idea, please let me know in a comment, and I might just use it for my romantic evening with the HH! 

No, this isn’t a contest and there’s no prize.  But you’ll have my undying gratitude PLUS the satisfaction of knowing that you encouraged the HH to actually cook something (and that you saved me from a lifetime of doing so if we end up cooking the boring recipes I’ve chosen on my own).

Sometimes I wish I’d lived in the 1600s.  No, not for the lack of modern excesses like cell phones or Doritos or Survivor. Not for what was, in those days, the nonchalant expectation of personal chefs, cleaners, and maids (and all for no pay!). Not for the lack of indoor plumbing, heating, electricity or even daily bathing  (as I recently learned from the way-cool book I’m reading, The Dirt on Clean). Not even because back then, people already had dogs as pets, though of course they weren’t treated as well as our canine friends are today. (”Yes, Mum, you do treat us very well.  This is a nice story, yadda yadda yadda, but when are you going to get to the part about food?”)

Allow me to clarify: when I say I would have liked living back then, I’m talking about cultural attitudes towards female pulchritude.  If today’s society held the same culturally-influenced ideals as to what is considered “beautiful” as they did in the 1600s, I’d be one fine-lookin’ piece of chattel. (Well, for the first 15 or so years of my life, anyway, after which I’d be forcibly betrothed to an old coot and made to bear six or eight children before shrivelling up like a dried dishrag and croaking from some 17th-Century pestilence).

Yes, I’ve always believed that, if only the zaftig female bodytype were still in style today, I’d have it made.  No more dieting! No more worrying about the little number printed on that tag sewn in the seam of my shirts! No more debating whether to get the elastic waist or the buttons! After all, those groups of 1600’s Rubenesque damsels in all those famous paintings could certainly have stood to get to the gym a little more often, and yet they were considered the paragon of beauty, right? 

However, since I live in the 21st century, I’m less inclined to flaunt my excess poundage.  With my recently-renewed vow to eat healthfully and also openly embrace the “now,” I’ve decided I may as well make peace with my plumpness, if not celebrate it.  Pondering all things Rubenesque, my mind naturally meandered toward the the concept of Reuben sandwiches.  Not only are they, too, pleasingly plump, but eating them may just ensure that I stay that way, as well (Bonus!).

 In my long-ago meat-eating days (though not as long-ago as the 1600s, mind you), I used to relish Reubens (the sandwiches, not the painter–though I suppose I’d have to concede that his work is okay).

There’s just something tantalizing about the mix of all those towering slices of pink, pickled meat, their softly shredded edges peeking out from beneath a buttered,