Archive for the 'Vegan Recipes' Category
A few weeks ago, the Unicyclist was tapped to bring in food for an evening seminar he’s taking. He said the group has been on something of a hummus kick, so he decided to stick with the theme and whip up a batch of homemade hummus. I chose to balance it with a sweet treat and made a couple pans of granola bars for him to take along.
Apparently, the granola bars were a huge hit, as my husband came home with nary a granola bar and a heaping pile of requests for the recipe. Of course, when he delivered this news to me, the Unicyclist shook his head ruefully. He knows me and recipes…particularly where a staple like granola is concerned. All this meant, however, was that our household wound up with another batch of granola bars this week, as I had to make and measure in order to pass on instructions! So, without further ado, this one goes out to the hungry grad students. May you have long life and abundant supplies of granola. Wo0t!3 comments
Well, it’s been a busy couple weeks.
I have a new job. I still have the old job. (I.e., I work a lot.) I finished the paper and presentation for the class I was taking on banned books and censorship. And I have decided to love artichokes.
If you have ever prepared artichokes from their spiny, stiff, pigheaded original state, perhaps you can empathize when I say that they are not necessarily the easiest vegetable to love. Fortunately, I believe in second chances. And third ones. And, in the case of artichokes, fourth ones.
This is something I enjoy about our (my and the Unicyclist’s) attitude toward food: we believe that pretty much anything can be delicious if prepared correctly. He may not pine for okra, but he sure likes it when I make it sauteed with onion, tomato, cumin, and dried red pepper. Likewise, up until a couple weeks ago, I wasn’t a rabid fan of fresh artichokes stuffed or boiled or drenched in butter (the first ways I tried cooking them). However, I was certain they had to be good somehow. Living so close to Cali, some of that Golden State artichoke passion has wafted over here. Basically, it felt nearly criminal to fail to thrill to artichokes after I had seen The Giant Artichoke restaurant in Castroville, CA. So I kept trying.
Last week, I found the sweet spot.
Hello, grilled ‘chokes.
So how can you join the artichoke fan club? Read on for full instructions!4 comments
Lurking in our fridge, buried deep in the crisper, huddled between bags of salad greens, you will find them. Or at least you would have up until yesterday.
Several weeks’ worth of root vegetables had very nearly taken over our fridge. Between the farm visit and our regular CSA pickup, our stash had grown significantly without us really noticing. When we did finally realize we were outnumbered six to one by turnips, it was touch and go for a while there. Fortunately, we are stout and hardy folk, and we managed to quell the veggie uprising with some seriously dedicated roasting this weekend. I scrubbed, sliced, cubed, and roasted three pans worth of turnips, sweet potatoes, beets, and carrots. It was all delicious, but I confess that I really fell hopelessly in love with the carrots. These are the carrots I had wanted to make a couple weeks ago but had to forego due to my undersized dill plants. However, it’s been in the 80s and 90s here, and I have been a faithful hydrator. This weekend, my patience was rewarded.
Not only were these carrots gorgeous, but did you catch the part where I mentioned there was dill involved? And lemon. And garlic. Holy yum.
It was a beautiful thing. It was so beautiful, in fact, that I’m sharing it with you. Without further ado, here is a recipe for some Dang Fine Carrots. You can eat them hot, cold, or tossed on top of a salad. Whichever way you eat them, I hope they make your eyes roll back in your head with delight and your toes curl with bliss. Best of all, it’s one of those simple, non-recipes that don’t require you to blow any gaskets about measuring. The basics are here—you just work with those!4 comments
Vegetables are amazing. I mean, there’s kohlrabi, which looks like nothing quite so much as a purple and green UFO camouflaged with a few leaves in order to lurk in your home gardens and probe the tomatoes and eggplant undetected. There are lumpy and bumpy and spiny cucumbers, amazing zebra-striped tomatoes, tenacious snap peas, and, of course, the artichoke. The artichoke is a testament to human ingenuity, as I am still baffled as to how anyone ever figured out that the artichoke bud was edible. In addition to all the oddball shirttail relations of Veggieland, however, there are the gorgeous cousins, like these sunset-hued, violet-red carrots.
We took home a bunch each of the last two weeks from our CSA, which meant that it was definitely time for carrots for dinner at our house. My first inclination was to roast them with some of my wonderful WildTree lemon-infused grapeseed oil, salt, and maybe a bit of dill, but it turns out that the little dill babies the neighbor gave us last week are still a ways away from being bulked up enough to provide dinner. I decided to roast the carrots anyway, though with an alternate ultimate goal: a delicious, creamy carrot soup. I had been wanting to experiment more with vegan versions of creamy soups, and the carrots seemed to be just the ticket. I had made some cashew milk (just like my almond milk, but with cashews) the day before, and I still had all the thick, creamy cashew pulp in the fridge. Perfect, I thought. (Actually, it was more like, “Eh, what the hey,” but that’s sort of how I roll in ye olde kitchen.) Carrots and cashews seemed like a wonderful combination.5 comments
While I do enjoy cooking, some nights demand dinner that comes together quickly. This week was full of such nights, and on several of them, I enjoyed this pita pizza. It comes together in five minutes and cooks in fifteen. You can make vegan versions and tweak the flavors however you choose: Greek, Italian, Asian…dream it and do it!
To make your own fine specimen, simply slather a whole-grain pita very generously with hummus (I used homemade roasted red pepper hummus), then stack with vegetables of your choice. I sprinkled on thinly sliced onions, zucchini, tomato, wilted spinach (briefly cooked in a skillet), grated carrots, and a smidge of jalapeño havarti. Then I popped it into the toaster oven and cooked it for fifteen minutes at 400 degrees, which was just long enough not just to melt the cheese, but also to make the bottom delightfully crispy.
If you’re skipping a flavorful cheese like the one I used, you may want to add a little something to the pizza to boost the flavor such as salsa, olives, or a spice blend of your choice to give it enough spark.
Guten Apetit!2 comments
If I were to become a hard-core locavore (not likely while my patoot is still parked here in ye arid desert), I suspect that I would bend the rules when it came to avocado. Avocado and I have had a rocky relationship at times, due to my personal conviction that avocado belongs in the savory camp and not the sweet one, but I am still hopelessly devoted to this alligator-skinned fruit. Never heard of a sweet avocado dish? Besides avocado smoothies, custards, breads, and pies, there’s a simple breakfast in some parts of Latin America (such as Ecuador, where I spent about six months) that consists of avocado slices drizzled with honey, a slippery, sticky affair that doesn’t sit well with me. And if you’ve ventured beyond the familiar, dark-green-to-black Hass avocados in the grocery store, you may have stumbled on a larger, bright-green variety that is naturally sweet, making for an odd sort of guacamole. While it may just be that I’ve never had a really good avocado pie, I’ll confess: I think I can live without one. After all, avocado fits so nicely in my salads, sandwiches, and guacamole benders. Which, Gentle Readers, brings us to today’s recipe:
One of the most essential skills for anyone interested in making a delicious, low-cost meal is knowing how to make a tasty pot of beans. Since I’ve decided to focus on basics here for a while, that means I’m about to tell you everything I know about them thar legumes. Pull up a chair, people. Get comfy. Grab some guacamole.
This week for the Dark Days of Winter Challenge, the Unicyclist and I decided on tacos. We’d scored local pinto beans through our CSA as well as at the Guadalupe Farmers’ Market, and we do so love a good taco. Typically, we build ours with soft corn tortillas, black or pinto beans, salsa, guacamole, and a hearty handful of lettuce or spring greens. I’ll give you the Unicyclist’s guacamole recipe later this week (your knees will melt), but let’s stick with the beans for now, ¿qué no?
I learned how to make a good pot of beans from one Afra Llamas, a woman with whom I worked for several years. She was newly a U.S. citizen, originally from Mexico, and, baby, could that woman cook. Silky arroz con leche, salsa so fresh and delicious that people would smuggle it out of parties in disposable cups, and pinto beans cooked to perfection. I’d fussed and bothered over making good beans for quite some time, adding and removing onion, peppers, garlic, cumin, and all sorts of other goodies in order to make something drool-worthy. Finally, in a stroke of inspiration triggered by a morning potluck catered by Afra Llamas, I had the brilliant idea of just asking her. It turns out that making perfect beans is less about ingredients than it is about technique. Remember that, people. Play with the ingredients if you want, but if you fuss with the technique, I make no promises.
My scalp cringes whenever I hear a middle-class person opining that organically or sustainably produced food is too expensive to be practical (right before said person biffs to Starbucks to drop $3-6 on a caffeinated beverage) or when I hear any garden-variety personfolk bloviating about how it’s cheaper to eat at a fast food joint than it is to eat at home.
Neither of these assertions is necessarily true. Can they be? Certainly. However, that depends largely on what organics you are buying and what types of dishes you are preparing at home, including how many prepared ingredients you are using. For whole foods vegetarians, especially whole foods vegans, they’re often false. I don’t even need to address the “hidden costs” of factory farmed produce, dairy, and meat (through environmental damage, taxpayer-funded subsidies, etc.) to prove that. Case in point? How about breakfast?
The Unicyclist has been on breakfast duty for the last couple months, something which has allowed him to develop our favorite everyday oatmeal: Peanut Butter Apple Oats. Today, out of curiosity, I dug up receipts, a food scale, a calculator, and I crunched the numbers to find out how much this tasty, filling dish was costing us. Are you ready?
3 oz. conventional rolled oats from the bulk section at Whole Foods (for .79/lb) = .15
4 oz organic apple bought in a five-pound bag at Whole Foods for 4.99 = .42
1 c Trader Joe’s organic rice milk, at 2.69 for 8 servings = .34
1 T Trader Joe’s organic peanut butter at 2.99/jar = .11
1 T farmer’s market apple butter at 5.00/jar = .17
Add a cup of water (for those of you keeping score to make this in your kitchen, that’s 1 heaping cup rolled oats and 2 cups liquid, plus a diced apple), combine well, cook until creamy and piping hot, and you have breakfast for two people and one Hippo for the grand total of $1.19, or less than sixty cents. If we’d gotten the organic oats (at about $1.60 in the bulk section, which we skipped because they were out last time we were at the store), we’d have doubled the cost of our oats, which would have upped our total bill to…$1.34. Again, we’re feeding two people and a 10-pound dog on that. Go ahead and compare that to a fast food breakfast value menu. I dare ya.
If you’re on a tight budget, embrace the bulk bins. No, seriously. Cozy right on up to them. Snuggle a little if no grocery store employees are watching. Then stuff a bag with its contents and cart it to the register because dry beans and grains are some of the most affordable items you can pick up, even when they’re organic.8 comments
Several weeks ago, the Unicyclist and I splurged at the Guadalupe Farmer’s Market. We decided it was time to decorate our place while stockpiling some good food. That’s how we wound up with a massive jar of mesquite honey and a cheerful ristra of red peppers, one of those beautiful strings of chiles you often see adorning kitchens or doorways in the Southwest. Both of them are on display in our kitchen, but the honey has definitely been getting more use than the peppers. You see, I’ve been something of a pepper collector the last couple years.
The Unicyclist and I both like food with bite. That’s the first problem. The second problem is that we live in some pretty good chile country. The third problem is that I have frequented both Native Seed SEARCH and the Santa Cruz Chili and Spice Company in the Tucson area a couple times when entertaining out-of-town guests. Both places have fantastic assortments of chiles, and it’s nigh to impossible to turn any of them down once you give them a whiff. As a result, I have nearly a dozen unique kinds of chiles commiserating in my cabinets. There’s morita negro, chiltepín, chile japonés, pasilla Oaxaca, pasilla negra, guajillo, and Santa Cruz hot. In addition, we have cayenne, paprika, whole mystery ristra chiles, and fresh serranos. As you might guess, my cupboards smell amazing.
All of which is great. However, it also means that I’m not giving said enormous ristra as much attention as I ought. To compound the problem, we’ve received a hearty helping of dried chiles in our CSA share the last two weeks running. As the chiles piled up on the counter, it became clear that it was time to take action. It was time to figure out a chile-intensive dish that could help cull some of my burgeoning chile population; thin the herd, as it were.
It was time to make enchilada sauce.4 comments
I imagine I can’t be the only one of you who looks back on childhood and recalls massive family potlucks at holidays. These potlucks were a staple in my tender, formative years. As a matter of course, they involved a mind-boggling array of foods. You know how when you’re a kid, the family dog seems to be roughly the size of a woolly mammoth, or how the small strip of sand on the lake where you took your swimming lessons seems to rival the shoreline of Mexico in its vastness? And then, of course, you grow up. In doing so, you inevitably grow bigger, and you realize neither the dog nor the beach possess quite the massive proportions you had imagined.
When it comes to my family’s potlucks, such is not the case.
The Unicyclist and I attended one just last Thanksgiving, and my 30-year-old eyeballs boggled at what was still an insane amount of food.7 comments