This ‘n that.

Apologies for the half-assed nature of this post, darlings. Since I’ve taken pictures of food we’ve made recently, I feel obligated to share them with you, my lack of photography skills be damned. Enjoy!

First off, three meals from Appetite for Reduction:


Smoky Tempeh & Greens Stew is a great example of a dish that I didn’t think would work, but it does. Splendidly. I was a little skeptical of the tomato base (wouldn’t it be like pasta sauce?) and lima beans (childhood dinnertime traumas), but when everything gets together, it’s party time. The greens are dealer’s choice, so we used kale. This is savory and satisfying, and prompted at least one, “Oooh, that smells amazing!” from a coworker. Cue impromptu tempeh lesson.


We don’t usually make multi-part meals, but this time we did, following Isa’s suggestions for complementary dishes. Here we have Broiled Blackened Tofu, Pineapple Collards, and Butternut Coconut Rice. The rice is creamy and satisfying enough to be a meal on its own, and the tofu is very tasty (I could have left it in the oven for another few minutes, but the broiler makes me paranoid). As for the collards—I love ‘em, and any dish that lets me eat pineapple out of the can while I cook is a winner. (P.S. You know I saved the leftover juice and drank it with some vodka later.)


“Are you sure you want that?” I asked Red when he chose Tempeh Helper for dinner. More accurately, I wasn’t sure I wanted it; nooch sauces tend to taste less like cheese and more like old socks, so I just avoid them. But we made it anyway, and lo and behold, it was yummy! So easy, too. I get what Isa was going for—that out-of-a-box weeknight goodness, with the powdered sauce packet that will still be good a hundred years from now and is probably flammable. Next time, we’ll add more peas. Or will that ruin the nostalgia factor?

From Vegan with a Vengeance:


Red wanted breakfast for dinner, so we made Fronch Toast and Tempeh Bacon. He has cemented his place in our household as tempeh bacon-slicer, because he gets the pieces perfectly thin and even in a way that I can never hope to. Knife skills, he haz them. And thin is definitely the way to go with tempeh bacon—the thinner the better, because then you get lovely little crispy strips of savory smokiness. Usually we make our Fronch Toast with sandwich bread, but this time we did it Isa’s way and used a baguette. Let me tell you: It’s tasty, but a pain in the ass to eat. Regular bread is easier to slice. If we never do the baguette thing again, I won’t miss it.

And finally, from 30-Minute Vegan:


This is the Monk Bowl, and it is super-delicious in that “I’m so healthy” way. Most of the 30-Minute Vegan recipes are like that, actually. I’ve never been good at baking tofu, but I tried it again this time, and it came out very well. It will never get as crispy as pan-fried tofu, but whatever, it’s less fat and much less work. To speed things up, we deployed some frozen edamame and a bigass bag of mixed Asian veggies from Costco. (I know, I know, Costco is evil and those vegetables sure as shit weren’t organic.) Topped with a splash of tamari, the Monk Bowl is good eating, even if it does have “I’m a damn hippie” written all over it.

Thanks for helping me clear out my camera! I’d promise you a more socially relevant post soon, but we all know it would just be pictures of Lucy and maybe some story about how I scandalized my husband by scooping mold out of the applesauce jar because the rest of it was still totally edible.

Random food gift experience #2: Wild rice.

So, you know by now that I love the stories about how I acquired random things more than I love the random things themselves. (See: crock pot.) The bag of wild rice that took up residence in my cupboard for a month or two is no exception.

Sometime around Solstice/Christmas, I went to get my hair cut. I love my salon: It’s a happy combination of the old-school beauty parlor where everyone gossips the day away and the trendy, eco-hippie “studio” type of place. It’s family-run, the prices are good, and they send all the cut hair off to make mats to absorb oil spills. I digress. As I was getting my hair washed, one of the stylists held up a bag of wild rice and asked me what to do with it.

Now, being vegan and mouthy, I’m used to having people ask me what to do with haphazard food items. I inspected the bag of rice, then went on to explain how she could mix it with white or brown rice and make it into a nice pilaf with some veggies, or throw it into some soup, or…. You get the picture. She interrupted to explain that the rice freaked her out, that it was a random Christmas gift from some equally random client. Wild rice as a Christmas gift? That gave even me pause. We scrutinized the bag of rice as though it were some exotic species, and she admitted that the tiny black grains looked like bugs. She asked me to take it.

“I can’t take your Christmas present!” I objected.

“Please, I don’t want it!” she cried.

Well, dear reader, what would you have done? I didn’t want her to be stuck with a bag of rice she’d never cook and that made her feel like an insect assault was imminent, and I couldn’t let the rice be thrown out. So, after my hair was coiffed to perfection, I tucked my accidental gift into my bag and wondered what I would do with it once I got it home. But not before I promised her I’d blog about it and make her internet-famous for her generosity.

Eat me.

Last weekend (or perhaps the weekend before, they all blur together in a haze of laundry and cooking and naps), I sent my new bag of wild rice to its great reward: Veganomicon’s Porcini and Wild Rice Soup. I highly recommend this tasty soup, but as you will see, it had a surprise up its little soup-sleeve (or under its lid, as the case may be).

All went well with the soup preparation. My dried mushrooms (porcinis? I have no clue) are ancient, so I soaked them for much longer than the recipe called for, and they reconstituted beautifully. The broth was made, fresh mushrooms (I subbed baby bellas, I think) sliced, herbs added, and wild rice stirred in for a deliciously fragrant brew. It looked great. It was nowhere near dinner time, so once it was done, I turned the stove off and let it sit for a wee while to cool before I put it in the fridge.

MISTAKE.

When I came back to the kitchen and lifted the lid of my big stockpot, what greeted me had long since left soup territory behind and was rapidly approaching the outer limits of what could be described as stew. That bastard rice had soaked up all the liquid and looked ready to eat my soul, as well.

“What the hell!” I shouted at it, visions of this demon-grain eating my mushrooms along with the broth clouding my vision. Fuming at this disagreeable development, I stirred the pot to see if any broth at all was left. A scant bit was—not enough to reclaim the title of “soup,” but enough to keep the—pilaf?—moistened and tasty.

And tasty it was, dear reader. Once I calmed down enough to stop cursing the weirdo salon client whose fault this clearly all was—seriously, next year just get a gift card—I acknowledged that whatever I had made, it was yummy. It was still wet, and I still needed a spoon to eat it, and it still had mushrooms. Not a triumphant charge over the finish line, perhaps, but a respectable showing.

Seriously, Vcon readers, make this soup. Only don’t expect it to stay soupy for long.

Random food gift experience #1: Trader Joe's Seashells.

Technically, this should be #2, but #1 might take longer to write about, and it’s Friday, and I never said I was consistent, so there. I always thought I’d be the one to present people with nonvegan foods that were inadvertently given to me, but recently the reverse has happened.

On Tuesday, a coworker showed up at my door with a box of chocolates. Trader Joe’s 70% Cacao Belgian Dark Chocolate Seashells, to be precise. Now this dude has given me treats before—homemade trail mix at Christmas, and some kind of blondie-toffee bar that I gave to Red because it wasn’t vegan. My choice to be vegan is, I think, somewhat of a puzzlement to him, but he is very respectful about it and seems to enjoy the challenge of figuring out what I eat.

As it turns out, someone had given his mother the chocolates, and she doesn’t like dark chocolate. She gave them to him, but he’s trying to watch what he eats, so he understandably wanted them gone. We had established months ago that I can, in fact, eat chocolate, and that dark chocolate is my cacao product of choice. He ever-so-thoughtfully brightened my Tuesday morning with a box of dark chocolate deliciousness. As you can imagine, I thanked him profusely.

My printer, complete with the Evil Monkey.

But are they vegan? I wondered after he left. Dark chocolate almost always is, but I’ve been conditioned to check first. Trader Joe’s had slapped the kosher and gluten-free logos on the front of the box, but no magic V. I checked their list—not there either. I scrutinized the ingredients—no dairy of any kind. What gives, Trader Joe’s? The best I can figure is that since the chocolates are made on equipment shared with milk, Trader Joe’s won’t label them as vegan. Makes sense. If someone has a hellacious dairy allergy, they might want to stay away from these puppies.

And they are delicious, too. My coworker tried one once I opened the box, and now he’s kicking himself for giving them away. I’ve been limiting myself to one a day, though this is by no means a guarantee that I haven’t also enjoyed other chocolate during the day. They have some kind of fudgy dark chocolate filling, so they are more like truffles. Aren’t they cute?

Now, if you'll excuse me, my one-a-day truffle is calling.

Stealth veganism, He-Man style.

Several weeks ago, we here in the Eastern United States got spanked with over a foot of snow. Our humble suburb topped out at 22 inches, which is quite a lot. Our plans for the weekend were understandably curtailed, and so we found ourselves engaging in three major activities to ward off cabin fever: shoveling snow, baking cookies, and watching movies.

Well, you can only shovel so much, and eventually the sugar ran out, which left us with the spoils that Netflix had so proudly delivered pre-snowstorm. Chief among these was the 1987 masterpiece, Masters of the Universe. Having been a He-Man-loving kid, Red was psyched. “Is She-Ra in this?” I asked suspiciously, thus outing my own loyalties. She wasn’t, but something even better was: a gem of a scene in which the Eternian visitors are grossed out by the Earthlings’ habit of eating animal flesh.



If you can’t view the clip, here’s a play-by-play:

Duncan (or Man-at-Arms) and Teela find Gwildor hiding in the bushes outside a fast-food joint. He’s purloined some fried chicken parts and cow ribs. He’s guzzling barbecue sauce when Duncan stares him down and he decides to share. They dig in.

Duncan: Mmm...good food.
Gwildor: Yes! I’ve never tasted anything like it.
Teela: I wonder why they put the food on these little white sticks?
Duncan: Those are rib bones.
Teela (gagging mid-chew, horrified): You mean this used to be an animal?!
Duncan (continuing to eat, undisturbed): Mm-hmm.
Teela (dropping her rib): Ugh! What a barbaric world.

Suffice it to say, that warmed my cold little vegan heart more than blankets and fuzzy socks could. By the power of Grayskull, I salute you, Teela.

Random nibbles.

Apologies, dear ones. I have been a very lazy blogger. I have no excuse, save the usual cop-outs of lack of energy and/or inspiration.

Red and I are now the proud owners of each variety of Go Max Go’s vegan candy bars! I splurged a little, because I’m very curious and Red needs convincing that vegan chocolate can approximate his beloved milk chocolate. We’re planning to sit down and do a formal taste test. Rest assured, you’ll get to hear all about it!

I can't tell you when I last ate four candy bars in a row. Photo courtesy of Go Max Go Foods.

Because I am awesome, I also bought him Sweet & Sara’s strawberry marshmallows. This boy loves him some strawberry, so you know he was happy when he saw those. He smiled blissfully as he chewed, so I intuited that Sweet & Sara has created another winner. Strawberry s’mores…mmm.

You should eat these. Photo courtesy of Sweet & Sara.

I haven’t done much in the way of vegan activism lately. A coworker at a meeting this morning urged me to have a doughnut. I politely declined. “You don’t do doughnuts?” she asked. I told her that I was vegan, explaining that the doughnuts most likely had eggs in them. “You don’t eat eggs?” she asked, clearly surprised. I explained about the eggs. Her response? “But eggs are good for you!” I sighed. The meeting was starting, so I decided not to get into it with her.

Red and I made a tasty chickpea casserole from a New York Times recipe. Their recipes can be hit-or-miss. (Go to hell, sweet and sour squash.) This was pretty hit, although I felt like I did a lot of work for what basically turned out to be hummus with chickpeas on top, baked on toasted pita. The yogurt topping was tasty, but it started going green in tiny spots after a day or two in the fridge. I ate it anyway until Red pointed out that it was probably mold. In my defense, it had a lot of mint on top, and I thought it had just dyed the yogurt. Shut up. I was flexing my immune system.

Ooh, and we also followed through on experimenting with less-Indian dosadillas. These were just potatoes, mushrooms, and peas with some sage, salt, and pepper. We used apple-cranberry chutney instead of mango-ginger. I was not too thrilled, I think because the chutney had too much clove in it. The yumminess of the vegetable filling was overpowered, and I was sad.

Tragically, that’s all I have today. I’ve ordered Carol J. Adams’ The Pornography of Meat, and I’m sure I’ll have lots to say when that gets here. Brace yourselves!