With My Hopes Held High As A Kite

Things my New Year's celebration have included thus far:

• Dinner & drinks from Sutter's in Newbury, O.
• Getting a hamburger for Christmas.
• Sleeping three-in-a-bed.
• Learning from my cousin, The Demon Baby, that the best way to eat a waffle is uncut; with both hands; covered in syrup.
• Playing in 6 inches of snow with Jessie the Dog.
• Watching "The Thin Man" marathon on TCM.
• Pairing popcorn & champagne

So, I don't really have anything to report on the culinary front, but I did want to wish all my loyal friends and enemies the very best in the upcoming 2010.

Should you continue to follow me and my kitchen-ventures, here's what you have to look forward to:

• Anti-werewolf spearpoint cookies (and a run-down on the progress of my werewolf novel).
• My entry for the PAMA cooking contest.
• Attempting to veganize at least one non-vegan recipe from each months Food+Wine and Martha Stewart's Living.
• My adventures living at home full-time.
• and much, much, more!!

So, stay tuned, kids.

And have a happy, have a happy, have a hap- hap- happy new year.

Comfort & Joy

It's been a long time coming, friends and enemies, but I finally have the swine flu.

"Oh no! I have the swine flu!" I said, throwing the back of my hand against my forehead.

"No, you dont," said Roomie, "You just weakened your immune system with a few too many days straight of drinking, dessert-ing, and cigars. Now you have a bad cold."


Finding no sympathy there, I turned to The Doc.


"Oh no! I have the swine flu!" I said, throwing the back of my hand against my forehead, this time adding a swoon to help make my case.

"No, you don't," replied The Doc, feeling my glands. "Too much smoke, and dancing in the garage has given you some post-nasal drip. Take some Advil Cold&Sinus. You'll be fine."

Hmph.


Well, whatever I have (I still say say it's H1N1), it put me in the mood for comfort foods.


My food of choice this time around was those little pillows of feel-better-ness: meatballs. However, I didn't want the acidity of tomato sauce and my throat was too sore to eat them plain and dry. In what would I couch my meatballs?


The answer was a Swedish-type cream sauce that I completely made up (using several non-vegan recipes as my template). Even when I'm sick, I'm inventing stuff in the kitchen.

Note that if you sneeze into the pot, you won't have to share your deliciousness with your non-commiserating famliy.


Contagiously Tasty Swedish Meatballs


2 cups vegetable broth
1 teaspoon sea salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
2 heaping tablespoons chopped fresh basil
2-ish tablespoons chopped fresh marjoram
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
2-ish tablespoons chopped chives
6 tablespoons cornstarch, dissolved in 1 cup warm water
1 1/2 cup vegan sour cream (a little more or less won't really matter)
2 - 10 oz. packages frozen veggie meatballs


Bring the vegetable broth, salt, and pepper to a boil in a medium-sized pot.
Turn the heat down to a simmer and add the fresh herbs and chives.
Cook stirring often until the greens are wilty.
Add the sour cream and stir well until it's completely incorporated.
Turn the heat back up to medium-high and slowly add the cornstarch/water mix while stirring the pot.
Add the frozen meatballs and stir to coat. The mix should be nice and thick and slightly bubbly.
Cook uncovered until the meatballs are defrosted and cooked, about ten or so minutes. Stir often to keep the bottom from burning. Add the optional sneeze right before serving for maximum revenge.


I ate this over some "egg-free" egg noodles with sides of cooked asparagus, cauliflower, and corn. Roomie said they were also delicious served cold the next day on pumpernickel bread.


***


Delicious or not, the meatballs didn't completely cure me of the fevers, so I figured I'd put the un-eaten eggless noodles to use in a pot of soup. It's a pretty basic recipe, but here it is. I like to think that frying up the leeks a bit with the herbs gives the soup a more faceted flavor, but that may be the chest-congestion talking.


Dr. M's Patent-Pending Cure-All Vegetable Elixer
(All amounts given are approximate. I never measure anything too carefully since I'm usually half-delirious with fever)


3-4 tablespoons olive oil
2 leeks, white, light green, and dark green parts chopped
2 tablespoons each fresh thyme, fresh sage, fresh marjoram, and fresh parsley, chopped
1/2 teaspoon sea salt
4-6 cups vegetable broth
2-3 large carrots, mandolined or sliced thin into disks
4-5 celery ribs, chopped
1 bag of frozen peas


Heat the oil over medium heat in a large pot.
Add the leeks and cook until the white parts are starting to brown and the dark green parks are bright and glossy.
Add the herbs and stir to coat with oil and leeks. Cook a few minutes, until the parsley is bright and whole thing is fragrant. Add the salt.
Add the broth, carrots, celery, and peas. Bring the mix to a boil, stirring often.
Reduce heat to low, cover, and let simmer for up to an hour, stirring often.


When you're ready to eat the soup, you can add the pre-cooked noodles (I don't like to cook mine with the soup because they absorb so much liquid) to the whole pot, but I like to add them to individual bowls, that way I can do more with the leftover soup (blend it for gravy, strain it for stock, add rice or croutons or potatoes, etc.).

"Great soup!" Roomie (who crumbled leftover "ChiliFest 2009" cornbread into his) and The Doc agreed, "But you still don't have the swine flu."

Hmph.


I may not have my health (or a particularly compasionate family), but at least I'm well-fed.

'Twas the Night Before Christmas...

...and all through the kitchen, a vegan was cooking some dishes most bitchin'.


Actually, most of Christmas Eve was spent making vegetable trays & dip, running to the grocery store for last-minute ingredients (in shorts & a Santa hat), and almost being late for church because my hair takes almost 2 hours to curl. Next time I'm just going in my Santa hat & shorts. I'm sure Jesus will understand.


It wasn't until well into Christmas Day (after a mid-morning run in shorts and a Santa dress) that the kitchen escapades really began. My family does the big holiday meal and present-giving hoopla on Christmas Night, rather than the Eve or Morning of. It makes it easier for my sister and I to do things with our significant others' (if we have one that year) families, or to make the trek up to Cleveland.

The menu changes from year to year (this year found the omnivores eating chateaubriand, cheesypotatoes, and a puff-pastry covered creamy mushroom soup (from a Michael Anthony cooking class my mom took in HHI), but there are a few things that do not change, that have been a part of Christmas for as long as I can remember Christmas. Things like giant trays of a dozen different kinds of cookies, a two-tiered dish of homemade chocolates, drinking wine or sparkling juice from holly-decorated wine glasses, and Sausage Crackers.

When I was little, these little holiday delicacies were called "Cheesy Meat Breads." My mom made them up as an easy-to-eat, quick-to-prepare Christmas and New Year's Eve meal for my sister and I and they soon became a party staple. They were re-christened "Sausage Crackers" a few years ago after an unexpected snowstorm marooned a half-dozen of our friends at my parents' house the night before Christmas Eve and my mom needed something fast to feed us all.

Despite how easy they are to make, and how delicious everyone finds them, we only ever eat them during the holidays and only ever at my parents'. The HB, munching on some this past week, mentioned that he had had a taste for them over the summer but resisted the desire to make Sausage Crackers in August. "These things are sancrosanct," he said. And he was right. Somethings just taste better when eaten in the shadow of a 12-foot pine tree.

Sacrosanct Sausage Crackers
The first year of being a vegan is full of little moments of dawning realization, moments that usually go something like, "Shit! What am I going to eat on *insert holiday or family function here*?!" or "It's just not *holiday* without *certain type of food*!!" The thought of a Christmas/NYE without Sausage Crackers led me to one of my first successful veganizations. Below is the vegan recipe but feel free to make "Vintage Sausage Crackers" using ground beef, a tube of Bob Evans ground sausage, and a box of Velveeta.

Ingredients:
1 package (1 lb.) frozen "ground beef" style veggie crumbles
1 roll "sausage-style" veggie crumbles (in the refrigerator case of the health-food section of the grocery store usually)
1 package cheddar-flavor veggie cheese (soy-based cheeses melt better than rice ones)
1 loaf cocktail-sized rye or pumpernickel bread

To make:
Pre-heat the oven to "broil."
Place the cocktail breads in a single layer on baking pan. Set aside.
Thaw the frozen crumbles in a large frying pan or skillet, adding water if necessary and stirring often to keep the meat from sticking.
Add the sausage roll and mash up into the thawed crumbles.
(**Note: If you are using real meat, cook all of the above until it isn't raw. I have no idea how to cook meat, and as a vegan, take no responsibility for death or illness due to the consumption of under-cooked meat. End note**)
Add the cheese in small hunks, stirring often to distribute evenly. Turn the heat down to low and cover the pan, letting it sit for about 5-8 minutes until the cheese is fully melted.
Spoon the cheesy-meat mixture onto the cocktail breads. Place the tray under the broiler for about 5-10 minutes. You're not really trying to cook anything, just toast the breads up a little and brown the tops of the cheesy-meat.
Let cool and serve with the sense of solemnity due to such revered appetizer.

...and to all a good night.

GOFTTP

Get out the tinsel and the mistletoe. String the popcorn and cranberries. Put on your Santa hats and get liquored up.


That's right kids. It's time once again for a "Good Ol'-Fashioned Tree Trimming Party." Though we don't usually wait until December 22 to hang a shining star upon the highest bough, that was the soonest everyone could be home.


We look very festive, no?

To provide much needed sustenance, my mom made Sacrosanct Sausage Crackers (recipe for the veganized version coming soon), Velveeta Nacho Dip, sweet&sour meatballs, mini-meatloaf sliders, and spicy boneless wings; I made party mix and a vegetable tray; the boys were in charge of providing an inappropriate amount of alcohol.

GOFTTP Mix

2 heaping cups popped popcorn
2 cups mini spelt pretzals
1 1/2 cups rice or wheat Chex cereal
1 cup puffed Kamut cereal (I used Kashi)
1/2 cup slivered or sliced almonds
1/4 cup maple syrup
2 teaspoons sesame oil
1 1/2 teaspoons chili powder (you could use 1/2 chipotle powder for some more heat)
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1/4 teaspoon coarse sea salt
2 tablespoons sesame seeds (using black ones gives the mix a nice color contrast)
1/4 cup dried goji berries (use golden raisens if you don't have/can't find gojis)
1/4 -1/2 cup dried cranberries

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Coat a large baking sheet with cooking spray. In a large bowl, toss together the popcorn, pretzals, almonds, and cereals. Drizzle with the maple syrup and oil. Toss to coat. Sprinkle with the chili powder, garlic, and salt. Toss to coat. Add the cranberries and toss again. Spread the mixture in a single layer on the baking sheet and sprinkle with the sesame seeds. Bake for about 20 minutes, or until toasted, stirring often. Let cool on the tray and then transfer to a serving bowl and stir in the goji berries.

~~~

While munching on the mix, Roomie and the HB (who works as a bartender at a schwank restaruant in Anchorage) began conconting weird and wonderful things at the bar.

Grown-Ass Man Raspberry Lemonade
"I'm an adult & I deserve an adult-sized glass"
Combine 8-12 oz. Lindeman's Framboise Lambic and 1 1/2 shots citrus vodka (Belvi is the house vodka here at the 1-4-4-8) in a tulip-style beer glass. Rim the glass with a lemon wedge and serve.

'Pass The Courvoisier' Sparklers
"because we leave them girls rollin'"
Pour 1/2 shot of Courvoisier into a champagne flute. Top with sparkling apple cider and 5-6 dashes of bitters.

The Partridge
"drunk is the only way I'd consider poultry in a bush an acceptable gift"
In a shaker full of ice, mix 2 shots pear-flavored vodka (on Willowood we use La Poire), 1 shot Stone's Ginger Wine, 1 shot simple syrup (microwave 1 cup of water til it's boiling, add 2 cups demarara sugar, and enjoy), and 1/2 shot of lemon juice. Strain into chilled martini glasses. If you want to put on your fancy pants, mandolin a slightly under-ripe pear and freeze the very-thin slices. Add to the glass as garnish.

The Jack (Frost) Poinsettia
"something to nip and warm your nose"
In a shaker filled with ice, mix up 2 parts Laird's Applejack, 1 part lime juice, and 1/2 part grenadine. Strain into highball glasses full of ice. Note: do NOT use apple brandy. It's Laird's or drink something else.

The Longest Nightini
"Are you blind in your little froggy eyes?! It's the Solstice! The darker side of Christ-mas!"
In a cocktail shaker, muddle together 1/2 pint of blackberries, 1 tablespoon fresh thyme leaves, 1/2 ounce or so each simple sugar and lemon juice. Add 1-2 ounces citron vodka and a handfull of ice. Shake with vigor then strain into a chilled martini glass. Garnish with a curl of lemon zest and a blackberry on a cocktail skewer.

Beer-Berry Brulee
"spoon-free dessert"
In a pilsner glass mix equal parts Lindeman's Framboise Lambic and Southern Tier's Creme Brulee Stout.

~~~

Despite the libations, we were somehow able to use a 10-foot ladder to decorate a twelve-foot tree without any major injuries.

It must be the magic of a Christmas and a GOFTTP.

It's Chili Outside...

...it's chili inside...

...it's a regular f**king chili-fest!

And so it was this past Sunday, friends and enemies. My mom whipped up her White Chicken Crockpot Chili (a recipe which I'm in the process of veganizing) while I busied myself with this oldie-but-goodie from a 2005 Dispatch Food Section.

Often it's hard to find good vegetarian/vegan recipes in newspapers (they're usually relegated to the once-a-year write ups about "crazy" diets/lifestyles) but every now and then I luck out. This particular recipe was still a little patronizing; its headline, "Even 20-Somethings Can Handle This Half-Hour Meal," implying that young people can't cook.

Bah! Humbug! I say to that! So I took the tone as a challenge and using their recipe as a template, created what is now my go-to signature chili dish. The Doc prefers it to meat-based chili and Pap ate two bowls without realizing it was vegan. As with most of my recipes, the secret ingredient is vegetables and wine.

Megan's Patented Tri-Color 3-Bean Chili (patent pending)
(Though I give the original measurements here, I almost always double the recipe)

6 tablespoons olive oil
3 teaspoons chili powder
3 teaspoons ground cumin
3 teaspoons paprika (smoked if you have it)
3 teaspoons dried oregano (mexican if you have it)
3 teaspoons chipotle powder
1 very large yellow onion, diced
2 tablespoons cheater garlic (4-5 cloves, minced)
1 medium-large yellow pepper, chopped
1/2 bag shredded carrots
2 stalks of celery, chopped thin
12 oz. dry red wine (I usually use a cab or zinfandel)
1 1/2 - 2 bags frozen ground beef substitute (I like Quorn)
1 can dark red kidney beans, drained
1 can pinto beans, drained
1 can garbanzo beans, drained
2 cans diced tomatoes with juices

Heat a large pot over medium heat. Add the oil and all the spices. Cook, stirring often for about 5 minutes.
Add the onion and peppers. Cook until soft. Add the garlic and cook for another minute or so. Add the wine, stir well, and bring to a simmer.
Add the meat, beans, tomatoes, carrots, and celery. Increase the heat to high and bring to a boil, stirring often to keep anything from sticking to the bottom of the pot. Reduce the heat to low, cover, and cook for about 15-20 minutes, stirring occasionally.

While this was simmering, I also made some cornbread. Any recipe (or box of Jiffy mix) will do. I use a pretty basic recipe from The Veganomicon with two slight changes. First, spray your cast-iron pan down with oil and leave it in the oven while the oven is pre-heating and you are mixing up the batter. Having the pan all hot and oily, gives the finished cornbread and nice crispy bottom crust and sides. Second little trick, invented by The Raccoon for last year's "Regular F**king Chili-fest," is to drizzle the top of the bread with real maple syrup or honey about halfway through the baking time. Too soon and the liquid will fall through the batter; too late and it will just sort of puddle and scorch on top. Both mistake versions taste just about as good as the right way, though, so don't worry too much about the timing.

On Leeks

Did you know that the leek is the national emblem of Wales?

It's true! According to legend, Welsh soldiers were ordered to wear leeks on their helmets to differentiate themselves from the enemy. And everybody knows that nothing says "fearsome" like a phalanx of charging warriors bedecked in vegetables.

But what to do with the leeks after you've defeated the Saxon hordes? I suggest this little recipe, veganized from the Jan 2010 issue of Food&Wine. Serve it up with a few roasted red peppers, some steamed asparagus, and a chilled glass of Franciscan Estates Chardonnay, and you've got a meal fit for fete-ing a victorious army. Or feeding the Doc, Roomie & Uncle Ex-Pat (who's home from Prague for the holidays) on a peaceful Wednesday night in December. It's a versatile meal.

Battle-Ready Cavatappi with Creamy Leeks & Spinach

1 pound cavatappi (or any kind of curly pasta; rotini, fusilli, gemelli, etc.)
1 1/2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 large leek, white and light green parts only, sliced very thin
2/3 - 3/4 cup of plain soy yogurt (see note below)
1/3 - 1/4 cup rice or soy milk (see note below)
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg (see note below)
4 cups densely packed baby spinach, coarsely chopped
1/2 cup lightly packed basil leaves, finely chopped
1/4 teaspoon sea salt
1/8 teaspoon fresh ground black pepper

Note: The original recipe calls for a cup of heavy cream, a decidedly un-vegan ingredient. I had some plain soy yogurt left over from Blustery Day Celery Soup so I decided to experiment. I put the yogurt in a 1-cup glass measuring dish and then added the milk until it looked like heavy cream and I had a full cup. The nutmeg I added because I find that it cuts the sort of sweet taste of vegan dairy products (especially yogurt and rice milks). Feel free to use the creamy liquid of your choice.

In a large pot, cook the pasta according to the package for al dente. Drain and set aside.
In a big casserole dish/dutch oven, heat the olive oil over medium heat.
Add the leek and cook until soft.
Add the yogurt mixture and simmer until slightly thickened.
Add the spinach and cook until wilted but still bright green.
Add the cooked pasta and toss over medium heat until coated with the sauce. Add the salt and pepper and toss.
Remove from heat, add the basil, toss again, and serve.

The Cabbage Patch

I was racking my brain these past few days, trying to figure out how to frame my latest culinary caper. I had the delicious recipe but nothing in which to couch it. No clever anecdote, no homespun yarns, nothing.

Nothing.

It was the eleventh hour and things looked bleak. You were on your way, loyal fans & detractors, to gettin' nuthin' for Christmas.

And then like a beacon in the night, like Rudolph's nose so bright, my laptop jingled: an instant message. A friend of mine (who, strangely, I interact more with via Facebook than I ever did when we knew each other in the real world) and his wife are expecting their first child. Happy news, indeed. Callooh! Callay!

I just love new babies. Not that I want any of my own - I'd rather spoon an eye out than have a kid - but I truly love it when people that I know get pregnant. People who aren't me having babies delight me to no end. Whether or not the baby itself will delight me is hit or miss. I'm not particularly maternal and I'm more likely to scare a baby than play with it.

Now, I often attribute this lack of maternal instinct to the fact that my Mom staunchly refused to let my sister and I have Cabbage Patch Kids. They were all the rage when I was a kid and I vaguely remember my AuntNYC sending me one for Christmas, much to my mom's barely contained ire. I don't think I was even allowed to play with it; the poor doll just got packed away in the back of The Closet (a giant storage area/attic access in the play-room of my childhood home) never to be seen again. My lack of garden-born babydolls as a kid very possibly correlates directly to my aversion to children as an adult.


How does all of this lead to a frame for my latest recipe (you might be wondering)? Well, it just so happens that said recipe is for cabbage. Whether or not my cabbage came from a patch that also produces babies, I do not know. What I do know is that braised cabbage is delicious and full of all kinds of important (whether you're making a baby or not) nutrional things like folate and calcium and iron and fiber.

And so, thank you, Impending Baby Breeze for the blog inspiration. In your honor (and for all my contemporaries having babies/with babies; there are more and more of you every day), here's the recipe for the newly christened (ha, extended metaphors) Baby, Oh Baby Braised Red Cabbage.

3 tablespoons olive oil
3 small-medium onions, sliced thin
2 tablespoons brown sugar
1/2 apple cider vinegar
2 cups fresh apple cider
1 cup vegetable broth
1 cinnamon stick
1 dried bay leaf
1 1/2 teaspoon salt (to taste)
1/4 teaspoon black pepper (to taste)
1 big ol' head of red cabbage, cut into as many wedges as will fit in your casserole dish, core intact

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. In an oven-proof saucepan or casserole dish, heat the oil over medium heat. Add the onions and cook for about 10 minutes or until the edges carmelize. Add the sugar and cook until dissolved. Add the vinegar and, using a wooden spoon, scrape up all the brown onion bits from the bottom of the pan. Stir in the stock, cinnamon stick, bay leaf, salt and pepper. Add the cabbage in a single layer (though the wedges can be touching, so you can really sort of cram them in). Bring to a boil. Cover and transfer to the oven. Braise (a fancy name for 'roasting in juices') until the cabbage is tender, about 45 minutes.

Transfer the cabbage wedges to a bowl or tray with a slotted spoon (a pasta-scooping claw works well too). Throw out the cinnamon stick and bay leaf (don't believe the old wives; bay leaves aren't poisonous, they just don't taste particularly good solo) and enjoy.

For additional tastiness, pour the remaining liquid in a small saucepan. Bring to a boil then reduce heat and simmer for 10-15 minutes until reduced by half. Spoon the sauce over the cabbage. If you're in a time crunch, you can skip this step, but it's really worth it.

Though this was a main dish for me (accoutered with corn, green beans, and a spinach-balsamic salad), Roomie and my Pap enjoyed it with homemades (slovenian sausages, similar to brats), curly fries, and cooked corn&carrots. Roomie topped it off with Southern Tier's Krampus Imperial Helles Lager and called it a dinner well-made. Also delicious: serving it cold with tomatoes on rye bread the next day.

Baby, you never had it so good.