(Above: Wild rice pilaf with butternut squash; recipe and photograph copyright Cathy Elton, 2011.)
A few weeks back I'd posted a link on the Fiddleheads FB page to Cathy Elton's Healthy Thanksgiving Challenge on her blog What Would Cathy Eat? that's worth a revisit. 25 people, including yours truly, submitted recipes that are new twists on old classics, all vegan or vegetarian and healthier than the traditional versions and offerings: lower in fat, sugar, gluten-free and so forth. Then again, when I think about what appeared on our holiday tables back when I was growing up - gelatinous "gravy" from a can or jar, dehydrated "stuffing" from a box, potatoes cloaked with margarine and dolloped with sour cream, plus the ultimate triumph of corn syrup, the pecan pie - perhaps it isn't such such a challenge after all. Thanksgiving is over of course but another set of holidays is "around the bend". (As your brain will most likely be by the end of January, particularly if you work in retail.) But these recipes don't need the excuse of a "holiday" to give them a go; they are their own reason for being. Most utilize the wonderful, earthy ingredients particular to the season, (brussels sprouts, cranberries, winter squash, pears, etc); others make the most of items available throughout the year, such as garlic, quinoa and other grains.) I'm particularly intrigued by the vegan-apple pear, the quinoa bake, the variations on stuffed winter squash, the persimmon-arugula salad (I'm guessing that the escarole at the co-op from Hidden Brook Gardens, or any bitter green, would probably work as well), the wild-rice pilaf with butternut squash pictured above, the...well, you get the idea. Instant classics, every one. Of course if you really wanted to add meat or eggs or dairy or, a cup of butter to any of them, that's easily enough done, but I doubt you will once you give the originals a try. If you try any of these, do share your experience. (Rocked your world? Not so much?) And if you have a favorite seasonal recipe to share, especially along the lines of Cathy's challenge, and particularly using fresh ingredients available at Fiddleheads or whatever co-op is near you (but not exclusively so in either case) do drop me an line (see my addy in the sidebar) or share it in the comments.
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Produce team associate Sue Guida was good enough to share her personal recipes for Creamy Tomato Soup after I begged her for the recipe. ("Ain't too proud to beg, sweet darling...") We posted this on the Fiddleheads FB page nearly a month ago, but it's worth revisiting as the weather has taken a definite turn toward something colder and crisper...sorta-kinda-maybe resembling late autumn/early winter. (Maybe.) The recipe incorporates chickpeas rather than dairy products to give it it's texture, and substituting veggie broth for the chicken makes it vegan. (The vegans and vegetarians amongst us already know that, of course; some of us are still finding our way there.) Included is the escarole salad she recommends as an accompaniment; I wasn't going to post the salad recipe here as I thought we weren't carrying any more escarole, until I walked into the co-op today and saw several heads of it that Anita Kopchinski and Bill Sokol had brought us from Hidden Brook Gardens in Ledyard on Friday.
Sue's specialty, IMO, is recipes that are almost Zen-like in their simplicity, no fuss, no frills and nothing unnecesssary. Simple, satisfying and just plain good. Sue Guida's Creamy Tomato Soup olive oil for sauteeing veggies 1 small onion, chopped 3 garlic cloves, minced 1 28oz can undrained diced tomatoes (Muir Glen is good) 1 can chickpeas, drained and rinsed well 2 cups low-sodium, gluten-free chicken (or vegetable) broth dried rosemary to taste, chopped (or double the amount fresh), basil and oregano to taste 2 tea. sugar freshly ground black pepper, to taste Heat the oil in you heavy-bottom pot and saute the onions for a couple of minutes, add garlic and sautee a bit more (do not brown). Stir in the tomato and the drained chickpeas; add the broth, herbs and sugar. Bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer 30 minutes. Cool enough to handle, then puree in blender or food processor in batches until smooth. Return to pot and heat through; season with pepper. Escarole or bitter greens salad makes a nice accompaniment. Note: Instead of dried rosemary you could add one sprig of fresh and not bother chopping; remove before pureeing soup. Escarole Salad Wash as much escarole as you want, drain a little, break it up and put in bowl; sprinkle with a little sea salt and black pepper. Pour some EV olive oil over escarole. Just as you're sitting down to the table and NOT before that, squeeze fresh lemon juice over the salad. EAT. (The lemon juice cuts the bitterness of the escarole just a bit.) Yesterday I glanced at my calender and realized that next Tuesday, 12/20, is the first day of Hannukkah. What I know about the Festival of Lights could probably be seated atop a postage stamp. (Then again, I was raised Catholic, and what I know about that religion could probably fit comfortably inside a letter-sized envelope.) I am particularly ignorant about the foodways and culinary traditions associated with the festival.
So I'm putting out a call for Hannukkah recipes from those of you who celebrate it, be it the latkes handed down through 10 generations in your family, or your own creations. For this blog I'm particularly, though not exclusively, interested in recipes which update old traditions for modern times, be it low-fat, gluten-free, meatless, reduced sugar, or simply surprising twists using new ingredients. If I am deluged I may not be able to share them all but will do my best. If you have a photograph of the dish, please send that along as well (don't worry if it's not "professional" looking) If the recipe is not your own, that is if you've gotten it from a website, please send a link to the source; if from a book or from someone else, please give the name or proper credit. Send it all along to my email addy [email protected] Please include "Hannukkah Recipe" in title of your message. Or simply write up your recipe or guidelines for such in the comments field, if you prefer. Just one more guideline, gentle reader, for now and future: If your recipe includes some essential ingredient along the lines of "the honey-crusted goat cheese I acquired from the very highest summit of the Alps on my trip to Switzerland last summer", or "the rosso picento from my favorite wine shop in Rome," please do provide an equivalent ingredient or give us an idea for a substitute that can be sourced locally (in North America, at least). Is that honey-crusted goat cheese, for instance, soft, semi-soft, or hard? Is it similar to camembert, munster or parmesaen? (Or, heaven forbid, Velveeta?) And then do please kindly bring some back for me the next time you return from your adventures; I'd love to try it. And give my fond regards to the goat. (Pictured above: bbq-style tofu.)
If you've glanced at the catagories on the sidebar you may have noticed the catagory "veganarian". A bit of laziness on my part (no apologies, remember?), the word popped into my head the other day because I got tired of the unwieldiness of "vegan/vegetarian" "vegan or vegetarian" etc. Hence, "veganarian" as a placeholder term to indicate recipes and articles that concern the overarching practice and concept of a meatless grain-and-vegetable based diet. I think it's a useful word: rolls rather easily off the tongue (mine, at any rate) can be a noun or an adjective: "veganarian" "veganarism"; and best of all, the pronunciation can be altered in speech to indicate the degree or intensity of one's vegan-committment: "veh-juh-NAIR-ian" or "VEE-gan-air-ian". Full disclosure: I am still an ominivore. (As anyone who has come to the co-op on Saturdays and seen me serving up samples of Four Mile River Farm beef and pork, and enjoying a few nibbles myself) can attest. But I consider myself "vegan-curious", and find myself leaning in that direction more and more often. Certainly, working as a Produce Team Associate at Fiddleheads has pushed me in that direction, as has economics, aging and sundry health concerns. My impressions on the subject, from readings, from personal conversations and practice in the kitchen, leads me to believe that it's not so much an either-or thing, but rather a continuum, a sliding scale of choices and possibilities, regarding how little or how much to incorporate any animal products in one's diet (milk, eggs, honey) and life (leather). I know for myself, leaving off sugar and milk from from oatmeal had to come before putting tempeh in the wok. Trying to divvy things up too precisely seems tiresome, and misses the point. I am nonetheless confident (or foolish) enough to predict that the vegetable-and-grain-based diet, the diet that is still the primary one for most of the world's people's and has been throughout history, is becoming more and more "mainstream" here in the U.S. Call it a hunch, call it fact, call it initution, call it what you will. Certainly many of the co-op members and customers are vegan, vegetarian, or like me, vegan-curious. And the more I meals I make without dairy products and without meat, the more I realize, it really isn't that difficult, or daunting. Now a raw diet? That's another story. That I still find daunting...at the moment. Perhaps tomorrow... (Oh, and what did my pajamas have to do with any of this? Absolutely nothing, of course. Don't be silly.) That's actually rapadura sugar pictured above, not sand, but fair enough. The other day on the co-op FB page, Ellen Anthony, our Bulk Dept buyer and a core, founding member of FH (anything she doesn't know about the co-op is a thing not worth knowing) made the observation that the "regular" (ie, white, or white-ish) granulated sugar far outsold all the other sugar varieties she has on offer in her department. My first thought (right after, "More for me!") was "Too bad, people don't realize what they're missing out on." Last year I made a batch of Rosa Jackson's green tomato jam with ginger and vanilla but knew I wanted to use something more complex and flavorful than the white sugar called for in the recipe, or the standard brown sugar. I wanted a sweetener that would lend richness but not be overpowering or "too sweet". I perused the Bulk section and chose the rapadura, which is dried sugarcane juice which has been heated at low temperatures, and from which the molasses component has not been removed. Jo Whitten's article on her blog Quirky Food explains some of the difference between rapadura, sucanant, and so-called "raw sugar" (which really isn't raw); according to her rapadura is the least processed of all the currently marketed "natural" sugars, and contains the most minerals and nutrients. Standard brown sugar, btw, is sugar that has been stripped of its molasses component to make white sugar, to which the molasses has then been added back to make brown sugar. (Got that?) I doubt that either M.C. Escher or Rube Goldberg could top that little mind-bend. Not that I'm fooling myself that any sort of sugar, no matter how minimally processed, is truly "healthy". But in terms of the jam recipe, rapadura worked more beautifully than I could have imagined, complimenting the other ingredients, and balancing the tartness of the unripe tomatoes and lemon juice with the heat of fresh ginger and the sweetness of the vanilla bean. The result looked like this: And the taste? Let me go through those ingredients again: green tomatoes from my garden with fresh ginger, whole vanilla bean, a splash of lemon juice, and a complex natural sugar possessing subtle molasses top notes. And still not as good as you're imagining it right now. Better. Ridiculously good on a piece of whole-grain crusty bread (from Fiddleheads, natch), slathered with homemade coconut-milk keifer, which had the consistency of whipped cream cheese and tasted like coconut-infused sour cream: Although my favorite way to consume it tended to be straight out of the jar. (Heaven forgive my gluttony but...mercy, that was delicious.)
In any case, the moral of the story is that you can get some really wonderful, tasty, beautiful results with stuff that looks like beach sand. I've since used rapadura in a variety of baked goods or any recipe that calls for brown sugar; in cakes, quickbreads, etc it not only lends it's complex flavor but also produces a pleasingly moist crumb. This summer I made my first batch of Regan Burn's recipe for homemade root beer, and I stuck to the recipe's white sugar and molasses, as it was my first time brewing soda; however I have a bag of rapadura in the kitchen at the ready for the next batch. Other recipes I think rapadura would be perfectly suited include Cathy Elton's vegan chocolate banana muffins, which are also low-fat; and this black sticky gingerbread from 101 Cookbooks, which is definitely NOT vegan or low-fat. (Just sayin'.) I have not tried all the sugars on offer at the co-op, but am curious about how some of the others compare to the rapadura, or indeed to the wet sweeteners maple syrup, honey, and agave (a whole 'nother discussion by itself) in terms of flavor and characteristics. Has anyone tried coconut sugar, for instance? What's your favorite sweetener, if you still use any? (And if not - how did you wean yourself from the addiction?) Correction 12/17/11: I had forgotten to put up the hyperlink to the root beer recipe I used (third paragraph from bottom), or credit Regan Burns for it. That has been corrected. This morning I decided that the "vine-ripened" tomato I had bought at Fiddleheads the other day was looking a little neglected and past it's prime, but would be perfect thrown into the tomato soup I was making from Sue Guida's recipe. I cut it open, and, lo and behold: "What the heck is THAT...?" "What the heck? Is that...what I think it is?" "It is. It's sprouts. INSIDE my tomato. I'll be damned." So once I had gotten over the initial shock, and reassured myself that yes, the tomato was sprouting within itself, and this was not some alien spawn come to steal my sweet soul, I had to wonder: Should I be more concerned with the fact that 1) my tomato is sprouting itself, or 2) the fact that this was the first time in my life I could verify that a store-bought tomato in my hand was a living, fertile organism capable of reproducting itself?
(Have you ever wondered why, on your favorite food blog, some recipe posts have a photo of a main ingredient used, but not the dish itself? Two possible reason: 1) The dish, while absolutely delicious to the tongue, is not so appealing to the eye and doesn't photograph well; 2) it's been gobbled up long before anyone thought to grab a camera. In this particular instance, both happen to be true.) Yesterday on this blog I nattered on about simplicity and sticking to the basics in my kitchen. A couple hours later my friend Miss Bliss, a woman of refined and particular tastes, popped in unexpectedly for dinner. And there I was, nothing prepared, not so much as a tahini-and-cucumber sandwich in sight. Fortunately, I had a crisper full of organic veggies at hand and was able to throw something together for my friend. Yes, it happened to be vegan and gluten-free, but that wasn't the point of the thing; it was quick to the table and satisfied both of us. So herewith - a simple supper idea. All the ingredients in this instance came from Fiddleheads Co-op (*shameless plug*). If you are not a lover of all things chard, substitute kale or any green of your choice. Roasted Portobello Caps & Zucchini, with Steamed Chard 2 portobello caps, stems removed 1-2 smallish zucchini (or one large; I prefer the younger, smaller ones) 1/2 bunch chard Olive oil, organic EV if you've got it sea salt and black pepper (freshly-cracked or not) to taste ground cumin to taste 1/2 bunch or so fresh chard cooked whole grain, such as long grain brown rice or quinoa (see Note) for accompaniment Fire up the oven to 425 degrees F. Slice the zucchini into large diagonal chunks; put them into a glass or metal baking dish (or a solid old pie pan) with the portobello caps. Drizzle enough olive over the veggies to coat evenly and thoroughly, and give a bit of a coating to the pan. Add sea salt and pepper over veggies, then a generous sprinkling or so of the cumin, toss everything to coat, adding a bit more oil or spices if needful. Place in upper half of oven, and bake until the caps are fork-tender all the way to the center, about 10-15 minutes, turning everything at least once. You will probably not need to add any more oil as the natural liquor of the 'shrooms is released. In the meanwhile, steam your chard over the stovetop; set the heat according to if you're at your leisure or in a crashing hurry. Do watch it however; chard can get away from one quickly. You don't want to let it overcook and get limp and tasteless, You want to steam until tender but still has identifiable color to it. (Unless, like my friend Miss Bliss, you prefer yours on the grey side of the spectrum.) If you're using kale instead, you'll need to give it a bit more time as kale tends to be less delicate. Divvy up the 'shrooms, squash and chard on two plates; sprinkle a bit of salt on the chard (it won't need anything else if it hasn't been overcooked.) Serve hot with the plain rice or quinoa, with the pan juices and extra spices poured over them. Serves 2 Variations on a theme: Instead of ground cumin, try whole cumin seeds, perhaps dry-roasted skillet beforehand, until they begin to "pop" but do not burn. Note: If you haven't got any grain already cooked and you are in a crashing hurry, quinoa cooks up nicely in only 10-15 minutes. A harried hosts' best friend. So, now that I had made and fallen madly in love with roasted, glazed brussels sprouts, I of course went crowing about them to anyone in Fiddleheads co-op who would listen to my yammering. (Co-oper's are such a patient souls, bless them.)
Except for one gentleman who got right to the point, ever so gently: "So you're candying them and covering up the flavor?" (Bless him.) To which I stammered something along the lines of "No, I'm improving them!" before I made some lousy excuse to head to the back of the co-op. "Well, he did have a point," my friend, Miss Bliss (who would cringe seven ways to Sunday if I used her real name), replied when I recounted the incident to her. "They are a little too sweet." "Then you don't have to eat them," I said through gritted teeth. "No, I like them, all right. They're just a little sweet." *sigh* Everybody's a critic. But once I'd gotten over my initial defensiveness, it seemed a perfectly reasonable question, and a challenge: what did roasted brussels sprouts taste like without the sweetening glaze, and was I ready for it? And the timing was excellent, as it happened, to find out. In truth my cooking, or more broadly my relationship to cooking and to food in general, has evolved over the past two years, and for everything "there is a season" as the Psalmist sang. In the springtime it was sauces, all sorts of sauces, as I finally became truly comfortable with the ingredients at hand and what they could do together. "If I put this and this and this in, how will it taste?" became "I'll put this and this and this in, because I know it will taste good." The summertime was about the grill, about cutting the hardwood I found on the land myself, firing up that ancient, second-hand Weber, and letting the maple smoke infuse anything and everything: organic onions, zucchini, portobello caps, all from Fiddleheads, wild-caught salmon filets, local grass-fed beef from Four Mile River Farm, even sage and basil leaves from my garden. Then autumn came slowly, very slowly this year; the grill eventually went cold and was replaced by a new crockpot (slow cooker); the first one I've had since my mom's, as I went indoors and taught myself how to make soups, stews, and stocks, oftimes with scraps, seconds, and discards from the co-op. Now winter has...well, in truth I have no idea if winter is actually here or not (and would it please make up it's mind?), but the latest season of my culinary journey has come upon me and this time, it's lessons in simplicity. Fewer veggies in the pot, or the wok, or on the salmon fillet. Paring down to the essentials: good extra-virgin olive oil. Freshly cracked pepper. Grey or pink sea salt, oft ground fine in my mortar and pestle. A touch of cayenne, or a dash of cumin. Perhaps some freshly-grated ginger, depending. A few drops of apple cider vinegar as needed. These few ingredients go just as well on roasted brussels sprouts, perfectly respectable and not a hint of glaze in sight, as they do on broiled salmon steaks; these are the items that I'm certain I cannot be without in my kitchen. (Not that I'm surrendering my maple syrup, stoneground mustard, coconut oil, vanilla beans and extract, or bottles of cardamon, cinnamon and coriander any time soon. If ever. "Simplicity" is one thing, "insanity" is quite another.) Oven-Roasted Brussels Sprouts with Cumin 1 lb (approx.) fresh organic brussels sprouts, stem ends pared and halved or quartered, smallest ones left whole) 4 T olive oil sea salt and black pepper (pref. freshly cracked) to taste generous sprinkling of cumin to taste (did I measure how much? Of course not.) Preheat oven to 425 degrees (F); lightly oil a baking tray. Trim and half or quarter, depending on size, the brussels sprouts; leave smallest ones whole. Toss in a bowl with olive oil to coat, then sprinkle with the salt pepper and cayenne. If any leaves came off the sprouts during the trimming process, add them to the bowl. Spread sprouts on tray, place on rack in center of over and bake for 15-25 minutes or until fork-tender and slightly crisp on the outer leaves; use your own personal preference of what crispy/tender balance you prefer to guide you. (These can cook in the oven a bit longer than their glazed cousins because there is no sugar on the surface.) Serves four as a side dish. This dish is best served hot, right out of the oven, as the sprouts loose their crispness as they cool. Note: Instead of ground cumin, try dry-roasting whole cumin seeds in a hot skillet until they begin to "pop", let cool slightly then add to the sprouts, oil and other spices at the beginning. When Nancy Whitmarsh shared a photo she had taken of her husband Bill's Cranberry Pasta Sauce, served over angel hair, on the Fiddleheads FH page, of course we HAD to have the recipe. (Cranberries and garlic, over pasta? That is my kind of crazy-cool.) Fortunately Nancy was entirely gracious, and kind enough to share it with us. Full disclosure: Bill Whitmarsh is someone I knew a thousands years ago, or so it seems, a friend of a friend and someone I thought entirely gone from my life. When I met him again this year at Fiddleheads Co-op for the first time in over 5 years I didn't know him at first. It's not that he looked older - he looked younger, if anything, strong, and bright and vibrant in a way I never knew he could be. He told me that, among other changes in his life, such as his new wife, Nancy, he had adopted a completely vegan diet: no eggs, no honey, no wiggle room and no excuses. If I ever do become a vegan, Bill and Nancy will probably be my primary role models on that path. Bill Whitmarsh's Cranberry Pasta Sauce with Angel Hair Pasta (Text below and photograph courtesy of Nancy Whitmarsh.) What to do with those organic cranberries from Fiddleheads? There's more than just cranberry sauce to be made. How about adding sweetened cranberries to angel hair pasta with EVOO and garlic sauce. Hubby's creation of the day. Wow. He is an incredible cook. As you can tell he loves to cook, and I love to (eat and) photograph. What a great combo, huh? So, here we go: One cup whole cranberries from the produce section. They were heated in a half cup of water and 2/3 cup organic sugar until they burst and liquid reduces. You want them to be sweeter rather than tart. In a separate skillet, saute a couple tablespoons of olive oil, small onion sliced, four cloves minced garlic, three shitake mushrooms cut into strips, quarter cup of scallions chopped small and leeks if you have them. Saute for 10 -15 minutes. Angel hair pasta is cooked as per package instructions. Drain and add pasta to the saute mixture. Allow pasta to absorb the saute juices, then top with cranberry mixture. The cranberries will have reduced down to a syrupy consistency. Toss one last time and serve. I was hesitant when he presented it, but I devoured this meal! Enjoy! Correction: I had originally posted the link at top to Nancy's personal FB page; she requested a link to Brick and Stone, her page dedicated specifically to the vegan meals Bill creates (and she photographs). Done. 12/14/11 I've decided to bring back another golden "not-so-oldie" you may have seen previously on Catch A Falling Anise Star via the Fiddleheads FB page. I had challenged myself to make this year's batch of cranberry sauce with as little sweetener as possible; the photo below and recipe above are the happy results.
Years ago in North Carolina a friend invited me over to her cabin in the woods for a Thanksgiving feast; it was there, bubbling away atop her antique cast iron wood stove, that I first set eyes on homemade cranberry sauce. (Talk about atmosphere!) The sight of it hit me with the force of revelation. Before that it had never even occurred to me that it could be made at home, much less to attempt it. (In my own defense, it was the 1970's. If a foodstuff didn't come to the dining table from a can, jar, frozen lump, plastic bag, box or waxed bucket, it didn't exist.) As a culture and a nation, I think it's fair to say that we had lost touch with the notion of "eating seasonally", thanks to developments in agricultural industry, and to year-round availability of items at the grocery stores. It's a concept that many of us are just now finding our way back towards. The exceptions have been certain holiday foods and traditions that have always been "seasonal" to a fault. Why, for instance, is cranberry sauce a "must" for the Thanksgiving table, but then gets short-shrift the remainder of the season? Is it due to memories - good and bad - of that wiggly red jellied stuff out of the cans, that oozed into our gravy on the plate? Perfect fun food for a five-year-old but hard to respect, much less love, once you've outgrown knee pants. This sauce, on the other hand - this sauce demands, and commands, respect. And love. Possibly total obedience. (You have your kinks, I have mine.) Homemade Low-Sugar Cranberry Sauce 1 lb organic cranberries, rinsed, drained and culled 10 T organic maple syrup, or raw agave to taste (see Note at bottom) 1 T honey (optional) good quality organic cranberry juice from concentrate (RW Knudson or Lakewood are good brands, but use your favorite brand) 2 organic valencia or juicing oranges In a heavy-bottom pot put the cranberries and add enough cranberry juice to almost but not quite cover. Simmer on low, stirring frequently, being careful to avoid scorching; add the sweeteners and the entire pulp and juice of the two oranges. Add zest from the oranges if desired only if they are organic. Adjust sweetener to taste, simmer until mixture reduces to 1/3-1/2 and has the desired texture (I prefer mine a bit chunky); the sauce should have a rich rose-red color. Cool and refrigerate overnight; the flavors improve and mellow. NOTE: Another co-op member tried this recipe with agave syrup instead of the maple syrup and had very good results with it. I know that there is a lot of controversy surrounding agave at the moment, and partisans on both sides (Dr Andrew Weil, for instance, notes that one needs less of it than other sweeteners because of it's concentration, and that it's his primary choice as a sweetener.) I don't keep it in my kitchen at the moment. That said, I would have used it for this if I'd had it at hand. I love it's "pourability" - thicker than maple syrup but thinner than honey - and it's neutral flavor. I leave the choice to you, gentle reader. |
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