Knot Inspired

Hello friends and enemies. Long time no post. Why is that, you might be wondering? Well, other than being busy moving back to Athens, planning Spring courses last minute, and my birthday, I can sum up my lack of writing in two words:

NO INSPIRATION.

*dramatic sigh*

It's not that I haven't been in the kitchen. I spent Spring Break at my parents' house (the kitchen of which I've spent many posts lauding) while all my usual kitchen companions were off galavanting for the week. This left me plenty of room and plenty of time to be whipping up some vegan delights.

And I did. I experimented (with mixed results) veganifying my Mom's semi-famous Scotch Shortbread. Inspired by Liddabit's Beer&Pretzel Caramels, I tried my hand at making both pretzels and caramel. I cooked a few off-the-cuff, whatever-was-in-the-fridge, one-pot casseroles that all turned out delicious.

But that's just it. There's no real story behind anything that came out of my kitchen in the past week. I wanted to make something. I gathered the supplies and tools to do so. I made the something. It turned out edible. I cleaned the kitchen. The end. Certainly not the stuff great blog posts are made of, that's for sure.

So to tide you all over until my inspiration returns from Spring Break, here's a pictorial of my pretzel-making as well as a link to the Alton Brown recipe for pretzels that I used. My only change to the recipe was omitting the egg wash before baking. I simply brushed with water and used regular coarse sea salt (instead of pretzel salt). Procedural changes include kneading the last couple cups of flour in by hand (since I couldn't find my mom's mixer's dough hook attachment) and using a large pot instead of a roasting pan to boil the pretzels. I wasn't making long sticks so I didn't need that large a pan.

Jessie the Dog has a nstily adorable habit of wanting to be right-up-ons wherever you happen to be in the kitchen. This requires some creative space managment while rolling out your pretzels.

This is the pretzel dough. It rose just like it was supposed to and was delightfully sticky. I was pleased.

Boiling the pretzels. I made little pretzel nubbins (possibly to be coated in caramel) so I could boil many at a time. Then I decided to get fancy and make some pretzels that looked like pretzels.

These I could only boil two or three at a time. Don't worry if they un-knot in the water. just smoosh them back together on the tray.

The deliciously golden-brown finished product. I probably could have cooked these even longer, but I didn't mind the slightly chewy center. Whatever strikes your pretzel fancy.

Gettin' Patty

St. Patrick’s Day is my third favorite holiday. Maybe it comes from spending almost 10 years in a school with “The Fighting Irish” as a mascot. Maybe from having an Irish first name. Or that my favorite color is green. Maybe, since I was supposed to be born on March 17th, my love of St. Patty’s was preordained!

Whatever the reason, St. Patrick’s Day is yet another wonderful reason to have a folks over for a themed dinner and plenty of drinking. Enter The Kid, who, despite having an 8am exam the next morning, helped make a respectable dent in my Irish beer supply.

Rounding out the guest list were The Raccoon and Roomie.

For the main course I made Colcannon a traditional Irish dish (it even has it's own theme song!), the recipe for which I got from the delightfully old-school “Vegan Handbook”

1-2 pounds of potatoes, diced
2 parsnips, peeled and diced
2 leeks, green & white parts, sliced thin
1 cup unsweetened soymilk
1 small head of cabbage, diced (about 4 cups)
2 tablespoons vegan butter
½ teaspoon mace
1 tablespoon cheater garlic
1 teaspoon sea salt
½ teaspoon fresh ground pepper

Cook the potatoes and parsnips in boiling water until tender
While those are cooking, combine the milk and the leeks in a small saucepan. Simmer until the leeks are soft (but be careful not to boil the milk too much or it will start to separate).
In a larger sauce pan, melt the butter over medium-high heat. Add the cabbage and cook until very soft.
Drain the potatoes and parsnips. Add the garlic, mace, salt, and pepper to the pot and mash very well. The mix should be very creamy.
Add the milk and leeks. Mash again to distribute the leeks.
With a large serving spoon, mix in the cooked cabbage.
Serve warm with a side of cooked veg, a glass of the very interesting DogfishHead Red&White, and a slice of the following bread.

Guinness Bread
note that this bread is technically not vegan since Guinness uses isinglass to clarify their beer. I’m not the kind of vegan who cares about things like that, especially on St. Patrick’s Day.

2 packages of dry yeast
½ cup very warm water
1 tablespoon sugar
6 ounces Guinness Extra Stout
2 tablespoons agave syrup
1 tablespoon vegan butter
2 ½ cups whole wheat flour
1 teaspoon caraway seeds
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon ginger
1 ½ cups (scant) white flour

Mix the sugar and yeast with the water in a medium-sized bowl and set aside.
Heat the beer, butter, and agave in a small pan. When warm, add to the yeast mixture and stir well.
Add the whole wheat flour to the yeast-beer mixture and beat with a fork until combined and sticky. Stir in the caraway seeds, salt and ginger. Mix well to evenly distribute.
In half-cup increments, add the white flour, mixing & kneading well between each addition.
Once all the flour has been incorporated, knead the dough until it no longer sticks to your hands (about 3 minutes).
Shape into a round loaf and place in a well greased 9-inch round cake pan. Cover with a damp towel and let rise somewhere warm for about an hour. (I let it sit on top of the oven while I made the soda bread).
Bake the risen bread at 350 for 30 minutes or until it sounds hollow when you flick it with your finger.


Though we didn't eat any of it on St. Pat's, I also decided to make a vegan soda bread. When I start baking - especially when there's alcohol involved - it's sometimes hard to stop.


Soda Bread

also from "Vegan Handbook"

2 cups whole wheat flour
1 ½ teaspoons baking powder
¼ teaspoon baking soda
¼ teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon sugar
2 tablespoons caraway seeds
¼ cup currants
1 cup unsweetened soymilk + 1 tablespoon lemon juice

Mix the soymilk and lemon juice. Set aside.
In a large bowl, sift together the dry ingredients. Add the caraway seeds and currants.
Pour the now-curdley milk mixture into the dry ingredients and mix well until it turns into dough.
Knead the dough right in the bowl, adding flour as needed until it no longer sticks to your hands (about 2 minutes). Shape into a round loaf.
Place into round, greased baking pan (the smallest one you have). With a floured knife, cut an ‘X’ into the top of the loaf.
Bake at 350 for 40 minutes. Let cool about 10 minutes in the pan before re-cutting the cross on top and breaking it open a little bit to fully cool

(thanks to The Kid for helping with the last step)

And to finish the meal, My Goodness, My Guinness Spice Cake

2 cups dark brown sugar

1 cup hot water

1 cup room temperature Guinness Extra Stout

2 tablespoons vegan butter

2 cups of dark raisins

1 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon cloves

1 teaspoon cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon nutmeg

3 cups whole wheat flour

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon baking powder

In a medium-sized sauce pan, combine the sugar, water, stout, butter, raisins, salt, and spices. Bring to a rolling boil. Reduce the heat and simmer for about 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Let cool to room temperature.

Note: Oh. My. Goodness. This mixture is seriously amazing. Like can't-stop-licking-the-pan, fighting-over-who-gets-the-spoon amazing. There are some potentially deadly stout caramels in there somewhere. The Kid suggested turning it into pecan pie. In my opinion, Guinness should be as much a kitchen staple as salt & pepper.

Sift together the flour, powder, and soda in a large bowl. Add the cooled stout mixture to the bowl and stir well. Pour into a 9x11 glass baking dish. Bake at 350 degrees for about 35-40 minutes, or until a cake tester comes out clean. (Mine actually got a little bit dark around the edges so next time I may try a metal pan or playing around with the baking time/temperature).

Then end result of my Irish feast? A room full of smiling eyes and a sink full of completely cleaned plates.

Slainte!

3.14159

I love pie!

It's such a happy food, don't you think? I even like to say pie. Go ahead and say 'pie' right now.

Right now. Out loud.

Say it a couple of times for good measure.

Pie.

Pie pie.

Pie, pie, pie, pie, PIE!

Can't do it without smiling a little bit, can you? Hell, try just thinking about pie without cracking at least half a grin. Impossible.

And so, because Sunday was Pi Day, I decided remedy the fact that I had heretofor never baked a pie and whip a few up. The results were nothing short of a-freaking-mazing.

I-Love-a-Blueberry, I-Hug-a-Blueberry Pie

for the full effect, listen to this song on repeat while baking

4 cups fresh blueberries

1 cup warm water

3 tablespoons tapioca granules

1 cup sugar

1/8 teaspoon almond extract

1 Easy-Peasy Pie Crust (recipe below)

Mix the first five ingredients together in a large bowl. Let sit, stirring occasionally, while you prepare the pie crust.

Easy-Peasy Pie Crust

makes 2- 9 or 10 inch pie crusts

2 1/2 cups + 1 1/2 tablespoons flour

1 1/2 teaspoons salt

3/4 cup light olive oil (use the best quality olive oil you can)

1/4 cup cold water

Sift the flour and salt together in a large bowl.

Add the oil and water and mix with a fork until combined.

Divide the dough in two. Roll each ball between two pieces of wax paper until large enough for your pie dish.

Place one crust in the bottom of your dish, trimming the edges.

Slice the other crust into strips and lattice the top until it looks like pie.

(This is about the time I was hip-hip-huzzah-ing in my empty kitchen. I was pretty excited about the fact that my pie looked like pie.)

Pre-heat the oven to 375-425 degrees (my oven in finicky). Line the middle oven rack in with tinfoil (when the filling bubbles over, you won't have to clean your oven!) and set the pie on top. Bake for 45 minutes, or until the juices are bubbling.

For my St. Patrick's Day Feast (full story coming soon!) I made a cherry pie (same recipe as above, subbing in two packages of frozen cherries [thawed, with juices] for the blueberries and water) and cut the top crust with a heart-shaped cookie-cutter.

They look sort of like four-leaf clovers, no?

For Roomie's impending trip to South Carolina, I'll be making a strawberry-rhubarb pie. I have a graham cracker crust (Funny thing: Graham crackers - not vegan. Graham cracker crumbs - not vegan. Pre-made, Kroger-brand, graham cracker crust - vegan) just begging to be filled with some sort of vegan chocolate and/or peanut butter mousse.

Pie, pie, pie, pie, PIE!!

Vegan in the Rye

**A Story of Context**



My Pap has a building down on E. 71st Street in Cleveland. When I was a kid, we called it "The Shop." It was a combination storage facility and headquarters for Pap's pool company. The rooms were a maze of old toys and furniture, empty muriatic acid buckets full of scrap metal and pipes, pool cleaning equipment, ladders, and more. It smelled of chlorine and motor oil, the radio was tuned to the polkas or WRMR, and the fridge was full of RC Cola, Squirt, and Tang.

Down the block was the Hostess factory/outlet. Pap never bought bread or snackcakes from the store. He went down to Hostess. To this day, I still don't think I've ever had a fresh mini-powdered-sugar donut. But Pap always had a stash of Ho-Ho's and Twinkie's for my sister and I to unroll/suck the filling out of, down The Shop


Along with the donuts and Susie-Q's, Pap always bought loaves of rye bread. Thin-sliced, just a smidge stale, Beefsteak Rye bread. It made the best salami-and-mayo sandwiches eaten kinda warm after sitting in Pap's truck all morning. Cold Honeybaked ham sandwiches at midnight on Christmas Eve have to be served on rye bread. There is no more excellent a Sunday morning breakfast than extra toasted rye slathered with way too much butter.

Rye bread tastes like "The Shop" and it tastes like Pap standing at the stove frying eggs in bacon grease and it tastes like being 7 years old.

**End Story**

Obviously I have a soft spot in my heart for rye bread. So the other night, when The Kid mentioned the amazing salted rye bread served at his previous place of employ, I took it as a sign from the Carbohydrate Gods demanding I bake up some rye bread.


Spring Forward Salted Rye


5 cups white bread flour, divided
1 package active dry yeast
3 cups warm water
1/2 cup olive oil
2 tablespoons caraway seeds
2 tablespoons salt
2 cups rye flour
coarse sea salt (for sprinkling)


Sift together 2 cups of the white flour, the yeast, and the water in a large bowl. Cover and set in a warm place (on top of an oven set to 200 or so worked marvelous for me) for 1 hour.
Stir in the oil, caraway seeds, and salt. Add the remaining flour (white and rye) 1 cup at a time until the mixture becomes dough.
Knead the dough on a lightly floured surface for about 15 minutes or until it no longer sticks to your hands.
Set in a lightly oiled bowl. Cover with a warm, wet towel and let rise for an hour in a warm place. The dough should double in size. Then punch down the dough and let rise for another hour (or stick in the fridge overnight like I did and continue baking the next day).
Shape the dough into two loaves and place on baking sheets lined with parchment papers. Cover with damp towels and let rise for another 30 minutes.
Right before baking generously sprinkle and pat down into the top of the bread the coarse sea salt.
Bake the loaves in an oven preheated to 400 degrees for about 45 minutes or until deep brown. Cool for 20-30 minutes on a wire rack before slicing.


***


It wouldn't be lying to say that the addition of salt to a loaf of rye bread is the best invention since, well, sliced bread. I'm interested to try other kinds of salt, especially the pink Himalayan kind (which is usually extra coarse) or something flaky and more delicate.


This bread was great with leftover vegetable soup as well as with some hastily cooked up Pesto Hash (onions and peppers sauteed with leftover pesto and cheater garlic, mixed into cooked spaghetti squash).


It's also flavorful enough to be served with nothing but a glass of cheap red wine.



A loaf of bread, a jug of wine...all that was missing was the thou.

I'd Like To Thank The Academy

I have three kinds of memories: Real, Storied, and Gilded. The former are those things that I actually remember happening to me, say, those things that have happened in the past fifteen years or so (though there are some before that). The latter come from pictures or stories that I have heard/seen so many times, I feel as though I remember them. When I relate Storied Memories, I tell them with such detail and elan (yes, elan) that it can be hard to differentiate, even for me. Favorite/often-told Storied Memories eventually become Gilded, meaning I veer from the Story and tell it how I'd like it to have happened or with more detail than even the original picture provided.

In my earliest Storied Memory I am 5 days old. I am fussy and won't stop crying and my first-time-Mom is alone in the little apartment she and The Doc have out in Pasadena. While trying to feed me/quiet me, my Mom turns on the 54th Academy Awards. There are more awards given out back then, so the show lasts almost 5 hours. In my head I have Gilded this memory with my Grampa K's rocking chair, philodendrons hanging from the ceiling in macramed and beaded plant holders, white built-in bookcases full of most of the old medical books that currently surround me as I sit typing in my parent's library, balloons and flowers in the periphery. Also Gilt is the idea that it was somehow the awards ceremony (seeing Katharine Hepburn for the first time? The Chariots of Fire soundtrack?) was able to calm me and whenever my Mom tried to leave the room or put me into my crib I would start to cry again. And let me tell you this is not the face of a baby with whom you want to mess.

Is any of that true? I'd say about 63% of it is mostly true. But it's a fun story and I get to tell people that I've been really into films since the day I was born. It's not just hyperbole - it's an honestly true Gilded Memory!

***

And so the Oscars have a special place in my heart. I mean, what’s not to love? Gorgeous people dressed in millions of dollars worth of clothes and jewelry, making speeches ranging from heartfelt to histrionic, trying to look humble/contain their rage in the face of a win/loss.

Since this year’s Oscars fortuitously fell on the same weekend as The MCHS Gala Auction, an event for which Roomie, The Raccoon, Kev, and The Doc would all be home, it seemed like the thing to do to turn last year’s impromptu dinner party into an annual event.

On the menu this year:

Nibbles:
Homemade pesto and a jar of store-bought artichoke tapenade served with multi-grain and pumpernickel breads.

Salad:
Spinach tossed with mandolined carrots and mushrooms, chopped kalamata olives, and raw pumpkin seeds; dressed with Roomie’s Favorite Vinaigrette.

Main Course:
Caliente Fennel Spaghetti
Big Pot Sauce (BPS) over rotini and/or Ohio City Pasta spinach linguine
Cooked zucchini

Dessert:
Mom-made chocolate and yellow cupcakes frosted by The Demon Baby (for the non-vegans)
Champagne (for everybody)

Cooking this time around was a group effort. Both Roomie and Kev like to cook and I’m an excellent delegater. They made quick work of chopping and sautéing everything for BPS.

Roomie and I used to make BPS once a month before I moved down OU for grad school. Probably because we don’t have the lovely large pots that my Mom does, we had not made BPS in over a year, opting instead for the convenience of jar sauce. It’s kind of a garbage recipe (we put in whatever we’re in the mood for) but here’s the basic recipe.

Big Pot Sauce

enough to freeze, but really too good for leftovers

3-4 tablespoons olive oil
3 large shallots, diced
1 medium-large onion, diced
5-6 garlic cloves, chopped
½ tablespoon sea salt
1 teaspoon black pepper
½ teaspoon anise seed, crushed and divided
1 cup red wine
1 red bell pepper, chopped
1 yellow pepper, chopped
1-2 green peppers, chopped
4 – 28 oz. cans of whole plum tomatoes, pureed
1 – 16 oz can of tomato paste
1 tablespoon fresh sage, chopped
3 tablespoons fresh oregano, chopped
4 tablespoons fresh basil, chopped
2-3 tablespoons flat-leaf, Italian parsley, chopped

In a very big pot, heat the oil over medium heat. Add the shallots, onions, garlic, salt, pepper, and ¼ teaspoon of the anise. Saute until the onions are very soft and translucent, stirring often.
Add the peppers and the wine.

Cook until the liquid has reduced by about half and the pepper are cooked through.
Puree the plum tomatoes in a blender (1 or 2 cans at a time, depending on the size of your blender), and add them to the pot. Add the tomato paste and stir until everything is incorporated.
Add all the fresh herbs and the last 1/4 teaspoon of anise. Stir well. Raise the heat and stir continuously until the sauce is just bubbling. Reduce the heat to low and let sit, covered, until you’re ready to eat. The longer it sits the more awesome it gets.

While the boys set the table with the salad, nibbles, and Oscar ballots,

I went to work on the spicy fennel dish.

Ever since using fennel for the DPD! I’ve been itching to use it again. I’m not a huge fan of black licorice (and brushing my teeth with Tom’s of Maine Fennel toothpaste might be the closest I’ve ever come to projectile vomiting) so I always assumed I wouldn’t like the real veggie. That I found it amazing was a delicious surprise.

Caliente Fennel Spaghetti
adapted from the January 2010 issue of Bon Appetit

2 tablespoon olive oil
3 garlic cloves, chopped
2 red jalapenos, seeded and diced fine (see note)
2 cups fennel, sliced thin (1 or 2 large bulbs)
½ teaspoon sea salt
1 ½ cup vegetable broth
4 tablespoons flat-leaf parsley, chopped and divided
2 tablespoons lemon juice
1 ½ teaspoon crushed fennel seeds
1 pound spaghetti

Note: the Kroger in Marion only had green jalapenos so I bought these cute little red guys that looks a bit like evil strawberries. They were simply labeled “hot peppers.” They tasted great without too much heat, but you could probably use any kind of red, hot pepper you’re in the mood for. Red pepper flakes and sriracha can also be added at the table for more heat.

In a large skillet, heat the olive oil over medium-high heat. Add the garlic, salt, and the chiles, sautéing for about a minute. Add the fennel and cook until it starts to soften.
Pour in the broth, 2 tablespoons of parsley, the lemon juice, and fennel seeds. Bring to a boil. Cover and reduce heat to low. Cook for about 20 minutes or until the fennel is really soft. Remove from heat.
While the fennel is cooking, boil the pasta according to package directions. Drain (reserving a cup of the cooking water just in case the mix is a little dry at the end. I didn’t end up needing it.) and return the pasta to the pot.
Uncover the fennel mixture and return the skillet to high heat. Cook until almost all the liquid is absorbed.

Add the fennel to the pasta in batches, stirring in between to evenly distribute. Sprinkle with the last of the parsley and serve.

***

Award for Best Quote of the Night went to The Raccoon:

“What’s this?” she asks holding up a fork-speared piece of fennel.
“Um. That’s the fennel. This is Caliente Fennel Spaghetti.” I have only said this about 60 times over the course of the evening.
“Yeah, but,” she pauses to chew, swallow and stare at some Red Carpet action. “I thought fennel was a seed.”
I choke-laugh a little on the water I’m drinking. “News flash! Seeds grow into plants!”

Roomie and Kev tied for Best Kitchen Helper.

The Doc swept the Cleaned Plate division.

And for me? Well, it was an honor just to be nominated.

Anniversary

As hard as it is to believe, fans and detractors, one year ago today, I was sitting on the recliner in the living room of my apartment, plucking away at my laptop, writing what would be this blog's inaugural post.

Since then I've covered everything from opossums and running half-marathons, to dealing with depression, teaching and babies, state fairs and trips abroad.

This blog is funny like that. Despite the fact that I started writing solely with food in mind, it's been near impossible to keep the rest of my life from creeping in. I don't eat in a vacuum any more than I write in one. I put alot of myself into what I write here, and not just as the semi-bumbling, self-depreciating character in my under-heated, over-stuffed kitchen. There's more truth here than in any other writing I've done. Perhaps it was something besides my fondness for alliteration that made me choose, "In Vegan, Veritas" for the title.

I've always had a penchant for self-disclosure. I mean, what writer doesn't? I guess it just felt less like I was imposing myself on you, friends and enemies, since I was (in theory, at least) giving you a delicious recipe (and maybe a good read?) in exchange for your attention.

For that attention (and for what I hope will be your continued readership), I thank all of you.

And what better way to thank you than with candy? Don't worry. I haven't broken my Lenten promises; I actually made these back before I went to Prague but never shared the recipe. But if I had to cheat it would probably be with these trufflely bon-bons. They're carob-based and raw so it would be pretty easy to justify eating a couple, even if you have eschewed dessert 'til Easter.

I suppose it's not the best thank you in so much as you have to make these yourself, but since I'm not famous enough to have a mail order service, it'll have to do.

One-Bite Carob-Berry Bon-Bons
the secret ingredient is gratitude

2/3 cup raw almonds
1/3 cup carob powder
1/3 cup raisins (golden or dark)
1/3 cup fresh berries or cherries (I used a mix of raspberries and strawberries)
1/4 cup dates, pitted
1 tablespoon water (plus more if the mixture seems too dry)
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
pinch of cayenne pepper
1/4 cup raw coconut flakes (optional, for coating)

In a food processor, chop up the almonds and carob until the mix is very fine. Set aside two tablespoons for coating.
Add all the remaining ingredients except the coconut, reserving the water, and process for 1-2 minutes, stopping occasionally to scrape the sides and add the water. The mixture should come together in a ball. Transfer the ball to a bowl, cover, and chill overnight (or for at least 4 hours).
Wet your hands with water and form the mixture into small balls (about 1 inch, give or take). Roll the balls in the reserved almond mixture (or the coconut, if you're using it).
Serve right away or refrigerate for up to three weeks (the one's sitting in my fridge are still delicious).

There are lots of ways you could tweak this recipe, depending on how grateful you're feeling. A little orange zest or juice instead of water. Banana and cardamom instead of berries and cinnamon. Raw cashews or macadamias instead of the almonds. Cocoa for the carob. It's a very versatile recipe.

***

Thanks again kids. And here's to another deliciously vegan year.