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.

Dinner Party Day!

The other night I invited The Kid (the latest, shall we say, 'person of interest' in my life) over for dinner. Cooking for the first time for someone you are interested in/trying to impress can be a daunting prospect. Do you make something tried and true, something you know will turn out great? Do you go for the gusto and attempt something fancy, but possibly unsuccessful? How many courses? Do you have it ready to serve or ask for help in the kitchen? What about the wine? How do you make the effort look effortless, the interest look genuine but not overly gushy?

Now, I may be over-thinking things just a bit, but that's how I roll. And, not to brag or anything, but I throw a damn good party, so I must be doing something right. Here's how the day went down. You may want to take notes, friends and enemies; here are 11 easy steps to a successful Dinner Party Day (DPD, patent pending):

1. Early morning run/swim. I like to start most days this way, but on DPD's it's a must. A little time on the treadmill/in the pool gives you time to plan menus, pick wines, choose outfits, etc. It also burns off pesky nervous energy.

2. Check for allergies/food dislikes. Nothing brings a DPD to a grinding halt like a trip to the emergency room with your guest in anaphalactic shock. The Kid's encouraging reply, however, ('None! Go crazy!') bode quite well.

3. Finalize the menu. Because I was looking to impress (both The Kid and you, my readers and detractors), I chose something I had never made before - a one-pot curry (recipe below). A risk, yes, but worth it.

4. Head to the grocery. Fresh ingredients can make or break a recipe. Running errands will also help pass the time - a plus if you are a bit anxious about the impending dinner.

5. Consider the amount of prep involved and plan accordingly. I picked only a few of the more complicated/messy ingredients to have chopped and measured ahead of time, rightfully assuming that it would be more fun having The Kid help in the kitchen; especially in a galley kitchen where space is at a premium. Lots of excuses to reach across/bump into each other, if you catch my drift.

6. Make the dough/bake the bread (see recipe below). As some of you may remember, I have not had the best of luck with bread-baking. That I attempted to make fresh bread again, may or may not indicate how much I'm into The Kid. Impressing him aside, having something baking in the oven when a guest arrives makes the whole apartment smell nice (and sets you up for the compliment: "something smells good...")

7. Shower and dress. If you, like me, usually cook in your pyjamas (or, in the case of one memorable batch of muffins, wearing nothing but an apron) choosing an outfit can be difficult. My advice? Comfort and functionality first. Anyone who shows up on DPD and expects you to be chopping and peeling in pearls and heels shouldn't have been invited over in the first place.

8. Crank up the jams. My "dinnerpartay" ipod playlist is mostly jazz standards and classical pieces. You want a mix of unobtrusive background music, songs you can hum/sing, and tunes to dance to (should the impulse strike). Dancing in the kitchen might be the best kind of dancing.

9. Start chopping greens/mixing the salad dressing (recipe below) as 6pm approaches. You don't want it to appear as though you've just been sitting around waiting for your guests to arrive. Plus, if it had turned out The Kid wasn't handy/interested in helping in the kitchen (he was), it wouldn't have seemed as though he had to help.

10. Mix a couple of martinis. I like to prep with cocktails, have white wine with the salads/appetizers, and then red wine (or another white depending on the dish) with the main course. Whether or not dessert will be the kind that requires liquid accompaniment, is entirely up to you and your guest. Personally, I find it better to have both hands free when it comes to dessert.

11. Set your guest to work while you finish the salad. The Kid made short work of peeling and chopping all the veg for the curry; most excellent considering peeling potatoes is possibly my least favorite kitchen chore. Have the salad ready just as the curry starts its 20 minute simmer. Finish your martinis, pour the wine, and get ready for a wonderful meal and equally wonderful company.

Fuck Yeah! Foccacia
so named 'cuz I finally made truly edible bread; from the March 2010 issue of Food+Wine

2 cups spelt flour
1 envelope dry active yeast
1 cup warm water
1 tablespoon honey
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 teaspoon dried rosemary
2 teaspoons sea salt

In a large bowl, combine the flour, yeast, water, honey, 1 tablespoon of the olive oil, and 3/4 teaspoons of salt. Stir until a dough forms. It may be sticky but that's ok.
Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and knead until smooth, but no more than 1 minute.
Oil the bowl and put the dough back in it. Cover with a dish towel and place the bowl in a warm place to rise for about an hour. It should double in size.

Since I still don't turn the heat on very high in my apartment (and having learned my lesson the last time I tried to make bread in a 55 degree kitchen), I let the dough sit on top my oven which I had turned on to 200 degrees. Actually, having the heat down for a DPD turned out to be a great idea. The colder the apartment, the closer you have to sit to your guests. The closer you have to sit, well, I'll leave that up to you.

When the dough has risen, punch it down and transfer to a baking sheet lined with parchment paper. Press the dough into a 8x12 inch oblong and brush with the remaining olive oil. Using your finger, poke indentations into the loaf. Sprinkle with the rosemary and salt. Let rise uncovered on the cookie sheet for 45 minutes. (This is a good time to grab that shower and get dressed).

Put the bread in the oven at 350 and bake for 30 minutes or until lightly browned all over. Let cool for about 15 minutes before slicing and transferring to the bread basket on the dinner table. Yes, I have a bread basket. Yes, I pulled out all the stops for The Kid. Yes, there may even have been bread plates.


In The Mood Salad
from the aphrodisiac-themed menu in the February 2010 issue of VegetarianTimes. The starred ingredients are those with supposedly amorous side effects.

for the dressing
2 tablespoons lemon juice
2 teaspoons honey
2 teaspoons minced ginger**
2 tablespoons sesame oil**

for the salad
3 cups mixed baby greens
1 cup watercress, coarsely chopped**
1 cup flat-leaf parsley, coarsely chopped**
1 cup of fennel root, sliced very thin (basically the inner couple of bulbs)**
1 cup fresh pineapple, diced**
1 cup radishes, thinly sliced**
the green tops from those radishes, sliced in ribbons**
2 green onions, green and white parts, thinly sliced
1 avocado, peeled and diced
1-2 tablespoons sesame seeds**

to prepare
Toss the greens, watercress, parsley, radish tops, and onions in a large bowl. Add the fennel, radishes, and pineapple and toss again. Pour in the dressing and toss to coat. Top with the avocado and sesame seeds and serve immediately. (thanks to The Kid for taking the DPD pics)

The Kid and I drank Funf riesling with the salad which was actually a bit too sweet for the ginger-pineapple salad. I'd recommend something much drier, a Kabinett riesling or pinot grigio, maybe. Even so this salad was excellently delicious and went great with the foccacia.


DPD Vegetable Curry
from the March 2010 issue of F+W

2 tablespoons canola oil
1 tablespoon minced garlic
1 teaspoon minced jalapeno
2 tablespoons green onion, green parts only, thinly sliced
1 red bell pepper, cut into strips
1 sweet potato, peeled and cut into 1/2 inch cubes
3 medium carrots, cut into 1/2 inch cubes
a few grinds each fresh ground pepper and sea salt
2 zucchini, halved lengthwise, cut into 1/2 inch cubes
1 1/2 teaspoons mild curry powder
2 cups coconut water
3 tablespoons lime juice
2 packed cups kale, stemmed and coarsely shredded
1 tablespoon chopped cilantro
2 tablespoons vegan sour cream

In a large pot, heat the oil over medium-high heat. Add the ginger, garlic, jalapeno, and green onion. Cook until fragrant, about 3 minutes.
Add the bell pepper, sweet potato, and carrot. Season with the salt and pepper. Cook until the veggies start to soften, about 5 minutes.
Add the zucchini and curry 1/2 teaspoon at a time, stirring in between to coat the veggies.
Pour in the coconut water and lime juice. Simmer over moderate heat until the potatoes are soft and the liquid is reduced by half, about 20-30 minutes.
Add the kale and cilantro, cooking until the kale wilts. Stir in the sour cream, turn off the heat, and serve immediately.

Since I used mild curry powder, this dish was not very spicy. Don't get me wrong, it was amazingly delicious, but those who like a bit more kick might sub in some hot curry powder. Or like The Kid and I did, pour on some of Gary Gecko's Thai Juan On hot sauce. Sriracha would have been killer, too. Muy caliente, muy delicioso. We paired the curry with a fabulous Alsace Pinot Blanc, which might be my new favorite white wine.


***

And so the first (and hopefully not the last) DPD of 2010 ended.

Well, it ended as far as you're concerned, readers.

Old Mother Hubbard

There are many things I will miss about Athens when I shake the cobble-stone dust from my running shoes for the last time. Walking distance bars with relatively cheap drinks; plenty of young men with which to entertain myself at said bars; my amazing masseuse, Carl; state-of-the-art fitness and swimming facilities; my wonderful friends; and of course, the music/theater. Without ever having to start my car I've seen, Josh Ritter, Sleeping Beauty, Hairspray, Art Garfunkel, Avenue Q, Nickle Creek, Ben Folds, Romeo and Juliet, and, this week, Bela Fleck. This is not to mention the most excellent local bands like Jazz Cream and The Royales, the latter of which I get to see this weekend.

What I will not and do not miss, is my ill-heated, small-kitchened apartment. Since I more or less moved out before Thanksgiving, the kitchen is not only small and cold, but it's woefully understocked. I couldn't give my poor old dog a bone, even if I wanted to. Roomie doesn't often cook elaborate meals so there's no reason to keep more than the basics on hand. This can make cooking when I come to visit a bit of a challenge. If I'm only down for a day, I can just go out to one of the many excellent, vegan-friendly restaurants in Athens. Any longer than that and the budget demands I cook.

The challenge on the kitchen table this weekend was turning the head of bok choy and package of firm tofu I brought into a pre-poetry-reading meal for two, using nothing but the bits&pieces, odds&ends left in Roomie's cupboards. And if I do say so myself, I think it came out pretty good.

Bare Cupboards Stir Fry

for the rice
1 1/2 cup short grain brown rice
3 cups water
1 tablespoon cheater garlic
1 teaspoon Chinese 5-spice
1 teaspoon sea salt

for the stir fry
2 tablespoons Enova oil
2 tablespoons chili sesame oil
1/2 package extra firm tofu, drained, pressed, cut into cubes
a head of bok choy, green parts and 2 inches of the white, sliced into ribbons
2 cups spinach, sliced into ribbons
2 tablespoons soy sauce

to prepare
Combine all the rice ingredients in a medium pot. Bring to a boil, reduce the heat, and simmer, stirring occasionally, for about 45 minutes or until all the water is absorbed.
While the rice is cooking, heat the Enova and sesame oil over medium high heat. Add the tofu and fry until slightly browned. Add the soy sauce and give it a stir. Add the sliced greens, stir to coat, turn the heat off, and cover. Let sit until the rice is cooked.

Serve the veggies over the rice with a sprinkle of sesame seeds, and a shake or two of soy sauce and red pepper flakes.

Not bad for a fridge with more beer than food in it.

To The Gills

Today I have a cross of ashes on my forehead. Why? 'Cuz, hooray! It's Ash Wednesday!

Perhaps you are not as excited as I am about the beginning of Lent. I understand. Not everyone gets as jazzed about self-denial and Catholic ritual as I do. That's ok. We can still be friends.


So what, you might be wondering, am I giving up for Lent? I will tell you. I'm leaving behind desserts of both the edible and readable persuasion.

That's right kids - for the next forty days: no cookies, no candy, no cakes or tortes; no rice dream or tofutti. And (deep breath of self-encouragement) no fan fiction. No drabbles, no songfics, no WIP's, no AU's, no OOC's, no PWP's, and no fluff.


I'm hoping that, given the absence of distraction from my favorite 'ships & snacks that I can better focus on real books, more complex dinner-type recipes, and my own writing. In fact, I'm going to attempt to write (either here or in my journal or for my novel/poetry) everyday.


Technically I'm supposed to be using all my un-distracted attention to pray and think about God, but, well, He never RSVP's to any of my dinner invites (and as far as I know, doesn't read my blog) so He can just sit this one out.


But just in case He does stop by to celebrate the most vegetarian of all Catholic holiday seasons with me, here's my delicious, completely-invented-using-free-time-brain-power stuffing.

I know what you might be thinking now. "Stuffing? In February? Has the lack of fanfic for less than 24 hours already driven Megan mad?" The answers are yes, yes, and not completely mad but keep the men in white coats on standby just in case. Stuffing, in my humble culinary opinion, is a vastly under-utilized dish. Why do we only serve it at the holidays? It's way, way too delicious to only have once a year.

But serving stuffing at an unexpected time of year requires an unexpected stuffing. I'd already tried wheat bread, white bread, cornbread, even sourdough; used celery, corn, and red peppers for crunch; onions, shallots, and leeks for flavor. What was left?

Rye bread, that's what. And if I do say so myself, it is quite delicious. The Lord don't know what He's missing.

So here it is. Serve with some kind of vegan red meat and plenty of cooked veggies for a delicious Lent-friendly meal.

Unexpected Stuffing
when the Lord drops in and you're all out of loaves & fishes

1 loaf (a pound or more) rye bread, torn or cut into 1-2 inch cubes, dried (12-24 hours)
12 tablespoons vegan margarine
2 large onions, diced
3-4 garlic cloves, minced
1/2 head green cabbage, chopped
1/2 bag matchstick carrots, chopped
2/3 cup chopped parsley
2-3 tablespoons chopped fresh thyme
1/2 teaspoon ground marjoram
scant 1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 teaspoon sea salt
1-2 cups vegetable broth

Pre-heat the oven to 400 degrees.
In a large skillet, melt the margarine over high heat. Add the onions, garlic, and carrots. Saute until soft, about 10 minutes or so. Add the cabbage and saute until just wilted. Add the spices, salt, and pepper. Cook another few minutes then remove from heat.
Put the dried rye bread into a large bowl. Stir in the vegetables, distributing evenly. Pour the broth over the bread in batches, stirring in between.
Scoop the stuffing into a large, oiled casserole dish. You may need to use your hands to pack the stuffing and make it all fit. Cover the dish and bake for 25 minutes. Remove the lid, rotate, and cook for another 25 minutes. Let stand 5-10 minutes before serving.

***

And so my loyal readers and detrators, best of luck to you with whatever you are giving up for Lent.

As long as it's not reading this blog.

Straight From the Heart

I used to have a shirt that said "Down With V-D" on the front. On the back, in parentheses, it said "valentine's day."

It was black. The font was bleak. I thought I was very edgy; all anti-love, anti-relationship, and all the jaded, teenage cynicism that comes with it. That way, just in case I didn't get anything for V-Day (which was often the case, discounting gifts from my parents), I had a persona of indifference to fall back on.

I'm slightly less indifferent to the yucky love stuff these days, but I still don't get too excited about V-D. The way I see it, I'd rather get a present because you want to give me one, rather than because the calendar day is marked in red.

Of course, if you really wanted to give me a present on Valentine's Day, I wouldn't have turned it down.

And so, as my gift to you, friends and enemies, for no reason at all, here are two, ready-to-give recipes (that are also, felicitously, heart-healthy).

Drunk On Love Red-Wine Cake

2 cups all-purpose flour
3/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder (use half dark cocoa for even deeper love)
1 1/4 teaspoons baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 sticks vegan margarine, softened
1 3/4 cup sugar
1/2 cup + 1 tablespoon hot water
3 tablespoons whole flax seeds
1 teaspoon vanilla bean paste
1 1/4 cup dry red wine (I used Yellow Tail Shiraz)


Mix the flax seeds and hot water. Set aside until the mix becomes thick and Goo!-y. Note that this may take up to an hour, so either mix the seeds the night before or morning of your cake baking.
Pre-heat the oven to 350 degrees. Grease a 12-cup bundt pan.
In a large bowl, sift together the flour, cocoa, soda, and salt. Set aside.
In a stand mixer, beat the butter and the sugar until pale and fluffy, at least 4 minutes.
Add the egg mixture by halves and beat until well combined. Add the vanilla and beat for another 2 minutes.
With the mixer on low-medium, alternately add the dry ingredients and the wine, scraping the bowl if necessary.
Pour the mixture into the bundt pan and bake for 45 minutes, until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Let sit no more than 10 minutes in the pan, before turning out to cool completely on a wire rack.

Serve your better-half a slice covered with powder sugar, ice cream, body paint, kisses, etc. Half-less? Finish off the bottle of wine.

Heart-of-Gold Oatmeal Cookies
adapted from "Vegan Cookies Invade Your Cookie Jar"

1/3 cup soy milk
2 tablespoons ground flax seeds
2/3 cup brown sugar
1/3 cup oil
1 teaspoon vanilla paste
3/4 cup flour
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 cups old-fashioned oats
1/2 cup golden raisins

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees and line a few cookie sheets with parchment paper.
In a medium bowl, sift together the flour, spices, and salt. Set aside.
In a large bowl, whisk together the soy milk and flax. Add the sugar and oil, whisking until the mixture thickens. Mix in the vanilla.
Mix the dry into the wet, stirring until well-combined. Fold in the raisins.
Scoop heaping tablespoons of the dough onto the paper-lined trays, about 2 inches apart. Pat the scoops down and shape into hearts.
Bake for 10-12 minutes, rotating the trays half-way through the baking. The edges should be a little brown.
Allow to sit for about 5 minutes on the trays before transferring to wire racks to cool completely.

Serve to your sweetie in bed with a champagne glassfull of soymilk dyed pink (with a drop of red food coloring). All by yourself? Break the cookies in half and dye the milk black.

Isn't it romantic?

A Zelenina v Praze

Dobrý den, kamarádi a nepřátelé!! As many of you may know, I spent the past week in the Czech Republic, visiting my Uncle ExPat and his girlfriend Fu in Prague.

This was a 'Really Big Deal' for many reasons.

First of all, I don't particularly like Feeling Conspicuous or Being Lost. In fact, both are borderline phobias. Additionally, I have a terrible sense of direction and do not read maps all that well. I have an irrational fear/dislike of public transportation. And (as I may have mentioned once or twice) I am a mostly-raw vegan with some pretty eccentric eating habits.

Now, seeing as how being out of place, unsure of where you are, using maps and buses/trams to get around, and enjoying local cuisine are all hallmarks of being a tourist, it may seem a tad strange to you, loyal readers, that I chose to visit a foreign country at all, let alone all by myself.

But I went, I saw, I returned mostly victorious. Since this is, ostensibly, a food blog, I'll focus on how I managed to stay fed and watered for seven days in a country whose national dish is vepřo-knedlo-zelo.

Day 1: I am taken to the giant Tesco on Národní. Vegetables are expensive, but available. Fruit is a little easier on the budget, and I recommend Tesco's house brand Orange-Carrot Juice. A glass of that and a banana or apple makes for a pretty good, raw breakfast. For a late lunch, Uncle ExPat and I head over to Restaurant Jama, right around the corner from The Prague Post (where my Uncle is the features editor, general manager, & editor-in-chief) and owned by another expat friend of my Uncle's. Order the House, Greek, or Side salads "bez sýr"(without cheese). Surprisingly large for the price, and delicious. The dressing on the house is especially nice: an amazing honey-ginger with fennel and poppy notes.

Day 2: On the way back from Petřín Hill, I stop at the Vietnamese Market (take Tram 22 to the Ujezd stop) for some excellently fresh produce. Fu is Japanese, into healthy eating, and a great cook so I lucked out; getting home-cooked dinners most nights I was there. Tonight was fresh red vegetable curry with rice, miso soup (using home-made miso). To help digestion, a shot of Becherovka and a mug of steaming peppermint tea hits the spot.

Day 3: Fruit and juice for breakfast, lunch at Jama again, sparkling water with Josh Ritter at The ICON Hotel lounge, leftovers for dinner, and a bottle of Gambrinus at the Josh Ritter/Swell Season concert.

Day 4: Fu stops by Country Life and pick up some bio chocolate soy milk. Maybe it'd just been a while since I had any, but this was some of the richest, thickest, soy milk I've ever had. Also at Country Life: tofu, natto, soy yogurt, and sprouted lentils/garbanzo beans. For dinner, Fu made sushi rice with avocado and wasabi soy sauce, ginger marinated vegetables, and miso soup.

Day 5: Fruit and soymilk for breakfast. While waiting for the Strahov Monastery and The Loreto to open, I stopped by the monastery's brewpub for a St. Norbert's amber. 35 crown for a small pivo? Very dobrý indeed.

Day 6: For a late lunch/dinner, I head to the Olympia. A good selection of Czech delicacies (one can eat the knuckles from more animals than you might expect); but for the vegan - order the Řecký salát, bez sýr. The marinated veggies are crisp and vinegary and delicious. I am bought a Staropramen Dark at the Hany Bany for a night cap.

Day 7: Fruit and soymilk for breakfast, tea and beer for lunch. Fu made ratatouille for dinner with fresh bread. Later that night, we all meet up at The Monarch for some Moravian wine and tapas (some of which are vegan-friendly).

Now if you're really lucky, you will have someone who loves you enough to make you wild-rice-and-seaweed balls for the 7-hour plane ride from Prague to NYC. If you are unlucky enough to have your flight from NYC to CMH cancelled, refuel at Balducci's and try and get re-routed through Hot-lanta. Concourse E has a nice little deli, Nature's Table, where you can get salad, humus, and steamed veggies. If you have a lot of time to kill (and a few extra dollars left) stop in at One Flew South, a schwank little sushi restaurant with over-priced (but delicious) cocktails.

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So there you have it, kids. One week of eating and drinking in Prague. I highly recommend it.

Until next time (coming up: Valentine's Day treats!): Dobrou chuť!