The Recipe Blog

Bud (?-2015)

My friend is dead.

That's my favorite picture of Bud, mostly because he was lying on my belly (and thighs, and knees—not a small dude, and he liked to stretch out more than curl up). But also because, being a close shot, it captures fairly well what living with Bud was like. Trusting and affectionate, he demanded to be right up in—on, more like—your face as far as he could manage. Our experience of his crazy-plush fur was abundant and exhaustive.

Bud was my kitchen buddy since long before MSV ever got fired up. He was an enthusiastic and relatively adventurous eater. He'd lick anything once. Plus, until just this fall, I had a pub table with two chairs set up in the kitchen. Because face-to-face interaction was so important to him, he adored the pub chair's ability to situate him near human eye-level and spent countless hours in that chair. Eventually arthritis kept him from leaping up and down from that height, but he continued to laze about the kitchen, where his comforting food bowl was, and where lots of light shines in not only from large uncovered windows, but also from a nearby skylight. And where he could ask for bits of whatever I was cooking.

As proof, he showed up on MSV a couple of times. You can see his butt here:

And a tiny bit of his big paws way back here:

But this is a good snap of him at rest (he had an expressive face, so it's tough to reflect him in just one picture):

That's Big'n on the right. (Little'n on the left, in reality a medium-size cat, is his roommate Herman—they mostly ignored each other but occasionally hit each other.)

Big'n is only one of many names he was called. (He was big and solid, like a linebacker, without much of a visible neck.) Bud suited him thoroughly. In fact, it was initially a generic nickname our friend gives to all animals who wander onto her property looking for help, as Bud did. But the name wouldn't let go. My boyfriend later declared it a diminutive of Budford Manassas. Nicknames followed: Budfordino, Buffordino, Buffer, Geometry Face (his eyes could get so incredibly round), Gigantor, and Muppet. Mostly, due to some quirks of personality and physique, he was called Dogbear. Which is exactly what it sounds like. Eventually, we had to admit Bud was every animal, beyond human classification (some resemblances were stronger than others, including not only the dog and bear combination, but also wolverine, owl, turtle, and John Wayne).

Bud walked straight through the center of a crowded room at parties. He was an enormously chill dude, a fantastically effective physical communicator, and the only thing in this world I've encountered that had even a little power to soothe what Kingsley Amis called the Metaphysical Hangover, to which I'm particularly susceptible. It was impossible not to imagine he was a bodhisattva. And imagine it we did. (Also, a stoner. Another reason his name seemed so apposite.)

crazy whiskers.jpg

There's no shortage of stories about people coming to veganism through companion animals, but that isn't my story. I never really had companion animals growing up, so moving in the with two guys my partner already lived with—he took Bud in only a few months before we began dating—was a new experience for me. It wasn't until after becoming vegan that I started to pay real attention to my daily interaction with them (which is substantial, since we live downtown where our companion cats are necessarily strictly indoor guys). In return, I got seriously rewarded by getting to know them better. All our lives got richer. And Bud, never as vocally demanding as Herman, especially went a long way to making me more sensitive and attentive. He dramatically reinforced the decision I had made to refuse the notion that individual animals should be treated like widgets. He was such a good dude. We miss him. A kind of shocking amount.

I've never skipped a week on MSV, and I don't want to start now, but the kitchen has been a heartbreak to walk into with Bud's absence looming so large. I have a couple recipes in the queue, so hopefully you all won't experience any further hiccups. Thanks for bearing with me. These last months have been fucking heavy, and self-inflicted obligations feel pretty overwhelming right now. I expect the rawness will soon pass, and food can again be invigorating instead of the annoyance it is right now.

So, to take care of this week, there are plenty of MSV dishes to make in my pal's honor. Bud was interested in all the food I prepared, and in hanging out directly behind me while I prepared it, but he loved beans. Demanded beans. All kinds, but chickpeas in particular. So this week, a chickpea roundup for Buffordino. And apparently that guy was no dummy, because this is a strong list:

Cilantro-Lime Chickpea and Potato Sandwich with Avocado

Apple Juice-Braised Chickpeas with Tomatoes and Turmeric

Lemon-Pepper Chickpea-Artichoke Salad Sandwich

Dead Simple Jumbo Blueberry Buckwheat Pancake (*)

Chickpeas and Kalamata Olives in a Spiced Tomato Sauce

Dead Simple Winter Tomato Soup (use the chickpea variation**)

Anytime Saucy Chiles Rellenos (***)

Ancho Chickpea-Tempeh Tamales (or Tacos)

Creamy, Sweet, & Savory Chickpea-Salsa Salad

(*Since chickpea flour is a main ingredient, I'm including it. Plus, it's easy to make and comforting, things that are rating high on MSV right now.)

(**When I developed this recipe, I blogged the potato version because of its silkier texture, but when I make it for weeknight dinners, which I frequently do, I almost always use a can of white beans or chickpeas in place of the potatoes. If you make the potato version, serve it with a grilled hummus sandwich to get your chickpeas in.)

(***Kind of a cheat. But uses chickpea flour and other beans, and Bud totally ate that filling. Goofball.)

 

Enjoy. Hug any companion animals you take care of and who take care of you. And anyone else you love.   —Amanda

Tempeh-Polenta Cakes

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Along with a well-stocked spice rack, keep a package of tempeh and a tube of polenta in your fridge, and impromptu weekend brunch is always at your fingertips.

Fragrant with plenty of dried herbs, nutty from the tempeh, and a little spicy from crushed red pepper flakes, these guys are seriously flavorful. And if there are no fennel haters in your house, feel free to throw a little crushed fennel seed in there to put them over the top.

Because they have so much going on, the cakes pair particularly well with mild accompaniments, like toast, and with fresh, light items like a simple salad of orange segments drizzled with a light, fruity dressing.

tempeh-polenta cake detail.jpg

Tempeh-Polenta Cakes

Print the recipe

serves 4

8 oz tempeh

9 oz prepared polenta (half of a store-bought tube)

2 TBSP reduced-sodium tamari

1/2 tsp dried sage

1/2 tsp dried thyme

1/2 tsp dried oregano

1/4 tsp garlic powder

1/4 tsp crushed red pepper flakes

1/2 tsp liquid smoke

1/4 cup masa harina

water, as needed

Steam tempeh 10 minutes.

Meanwhile, cube polenta and use a potato masher to mash polenta with all other ingredients in a mixing bowl until well combined (there will be a few visible chunks of polenta remaining).

When the tempeh is done steaming, and as soon as it's cool enough to handle, cube into 1-inch dice. Add tempeh to mixing bowl and mash again until mixture holds together when pressed by hand, adding water by the tablespoon, as needed, to help cohere. (You shouldn't need more than a tablespoon or two.)

Heat a griddle over medium heat. Form eight patties and cook 3-5 minutes per side, until golden brown. Let cool five minutes before serving.

Cilantro-Lime Chickpea and Potato Sandwich with Avocado

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Visibly but loosely inspired by the beloved Mexican torta, this packed sandwich draws one common ingredient from that tradition found less commonly on sandwich menus in the States: potato. Here, frozen hash browns are cooked with chopped chickpeas and tossed in a dressing flavored with cilantro, lime, and jalapeno. Avocado adds necessary and totally dreamy richness while toasted ciabatta gives it all a warm hug.

Filling without feeling heavy, it's a big, fun sandwich, and a little messy. Get a good hold as you would for a Sloppy Joe, and you should come out just fine. Serve with something pickled, and you're ahead of the game. If you're absolutely squeamish about losing filling, tuck this one into pita bread.

Sandwiches are always great for lunch, of course, but note that this one makes a particularly satisfying breakfast sandwich, too.

Cilantro-Lime Chickpea and Potato Sandwich with Avocado

Print the recipe

serves 4

1 lb frozen hash browns (look for a brand that contains nothing but potatoes)

1 15-oz can chickpeas, drained and rinsed

1/4 cup tightly packed cilantro (discard any large stems)

1/4 cup olive oil

2 TBSP lime juice (from about 1 lime)

2 medium jalapeno peppers, stemmed and seeded

1/4 tsp fine sea or kosher salt

1 large ciabatta loaf, halved lengthwise

flesh of 1 avocado, sliced

to serve: fine sea or kosher salt, freshly cracked black pepper, dried oregano

Heat a large nonstick skillet over medium-medium-high heat. Add hash browns and let cook two minutes, undisturbed.

Meanwhile, add chickpeas to a food processor and pulse until broken down, but a little chunky. Add to skillet, and use a rubber spatula to empty the processor bowl contents into the skillet. Continue to toss with a wide spatula every two minutes until the mixture is hot and the potatoes have browned in places, about 10 minutes total.

While the potatoes and chickpeas cook, return the processor bowl to the base and reattach the blade. Add cilantro, oil, lime juice, jalapeno, and 1/4 tsp salt. Process until thoroughly combined, scraping the sides as needed. This could take a full minute or so.

When the potatoes are ready, remove from heat and stir in dressing. Set aside.

Use the oven broiler to toast the cut side of the bottom of the ciabatta loaf and the outside of the top half of the loaf. Mound the potato mixture generously on the bottom half (you may have a half-cup or so of filling left over depending on the size of your loaf, but don't be shy*). Top with avocado slices. Sprinkle a couple pinches of salt over the avocado, then add black pepper, then dried oregano. Top sandwich, press gently to help pack, slice, and serve with cornichons or pickle of choice.

(*Store any leftover filling in the refrigerator and make a hash, or toss them into your next tofu scramble.)

 

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One final note of thanks about The Knoxville History Project's online fundraiser to launch Knoxville Mercury. They hit the goal, which means their funding will, in fact, go through. Which is fantastic, encouraging, and an enormous relief. There's a stretch goal in place they'll have to work very hard to meet, so if you'd like to spread the word to give them a push in their final days (the Kickstarter ends Saturday night), they could use it. Either way, thanks hugely for being a part of their success. You're all appreciated.

The Basics No. 1: Scrambles and Hashes to Nourish the Tired Vegan (and Everyone Else, Too)

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First, a note of deep gratitude for all of your help with last week's post. MSV readers did an incredible job of sharing, not to mention making some very generous pledges. So, so many thanks. There's still more than a week left in their Kickstarter, so if you find yourself in a position to help, whether by pledging or talking it up, your contribution is important.

Due to all that, it's really nice to have a post on New Year's Day. If any one year is about fresh starts for the MSV house, 2015 will surely be it. When big changes are afoot, home and hearth can be a comforting anchor, and that's what's going on this week. Today's dead-simple template will help you stay nourished and satisfied even under busy, uncertain, or stressful circumstances. With these basics on hand, you'll never have to wonder what to eat after a long day. There will be protein, and vegetables, and flavor. It will be fast. They're all appropriate for breakfast, lunch, or a breezy dinner. And if you don't feel like it, you don't even have to touch a knife.

This formula relies on indulging in a few expensive ingredients that you'll use in small quantities on the front and back ends to boost the dish's flavor and satiety factor: sun-dried tomatoes or olive oil at the start; smoked almonds, pickled jalapenos, or capers (or kimchi, or sauerkraut) toward the end of cooking. The bulk of these plates is a mix of whichever base you like--tofu, tempeh, or prepared polenta--and, for maximum convenience and economy, frozen vegetables. If washing and chopping and handling fresh foods soothes you after a long day, by all means, go for it. Nothing precludes the use of fresh veg, but when life gets really hectic, it's tough to beat the ease of popping open a bag and dumping pre-cut chunks into a hot pan. Plus, it's usually cheaper, especially in winter. (Except in the case of collards, where you can easily find a comically large bunch for less than two bucks at a large grocer, and pay the difference in washing and chopping labor. Naturally, choose what works for you.)

All manner of green veg work great in hashes and scrambles. They tend to keep a good bite and don't release a lot of liquid, which means it won't hinder the seriously gorgeous surface browning you're going to make sure your base gets. Because that's what takes a scramble or hash from tossed off to something you'll look forward to tucking into.

Collards or other hearty greens work best with chewy tempeh, but there's no reason you can't pair them with polenta squares, if that's what you're craving. Likewise, broccoli's texture is terrific with soft and chewy tofu, but green beans are no slouch, either. One of these dishes feeds one person generously, but it's simple to stretch it to a meal for two (or if you have higher calorie needs) by adding a starch. Toast smeared with a little nondairy butter or a thin layer of tahini (light maple drizzle optional, but pretty heavenly) pairs well with nutty tempeh and greens. Toast works for a tofu scramble, too, but once you've added hunks of hand-torn corn tortillas to the pan for the last half of cooking (for what lazily gets called tofu migas in the MSV house when no one else is around), you might have a hard time pairing any other carb with your tofu scramble.

Speaking of carbs, let's talk polenta. Cooking little chunks until golden is about to become your new favorite way to put those tubes to work. Out of the fridge, it's grainy, slippery on the outside, and generally a little unappealing. But after a few minutes in the pan, those bites become gorgeously soft and especially flavorful when tossed with a shower of nutritional yeast (those green beans, too).

Nutritional yeast, by the way, is highly recommended on all versions here, but considered necessary for the tofu scramble. YMMV. If you're sensitive to the flavor of nutritional yeast, go easy, and the flavor won't be pronounced, but it will add noticeable depth to the finished product. (Likewise, hot sauce served at the table is a fine choice for all hashes, but especially wise for a tofu scramble.)

Because polenta is a grain, edamame is a perfect green accompaniment that adds protein, but there's no reason you can't use another veg and toss in a handful of cooked beans, or crumble in half a block of tempeh. Or don't sweat this plate and get an extra dose of protein at another meal. And if there's a law against enjoying a slice of buttery toast alongside bits of creamy polenta and lightly charred green beans, you're gonna need a lot of bracelets.

And finally, about the knife business, these shots are all of tempeh and polenta that's been cubed with a knife, but don't think you can't tear off bite-size pieces with your hands or crumble the tempeh if you want even smaller bits. With pre-cut frozen veg and your paws, there's no cutting board or knife to wash. Do what feels good, and chow down.

Scrambles and Hashes to Nourish the Tired Vegan (and Everyone Else, Too)

Print the recipe

serves 1 generously, or 2 lightly (see starch option)

To Begin:

1 generous TBSP chopped sun-dried tomatoes in oil

or

1 TBSP olive oil

Veg:

A couple handfuls of any of the following (all frozen, unless you prefer to prep your own):

chopped collards

or

cut green beans

or

cut broccoli

or

shelled edamame

optional flavor boost: fresh scallions, white and green parts, roughly chopped

Base:

14 oz soft (or firm, if you prefer, or have higher calorie needs) tofu, drained

or

8 oz tempeh, in small bite-size cubes (use a knife or your hands)

or

9 oz (1/2 tube) prepared polenta, in bite-size pieces (use a knife or your hands)

Seasoning:

Herbamere or salt, to taste (try a generous 1/4 tsp)

freshly cracked black pepper

2-3 TBSP nutritional yeast, or to taste

optional flavor boost (pick one): 1/4 tsp garlic powder, 1/4 tsp dried sage, 1/4 tsp smoked paprika, 1/4 tsp garam masala, a few dashes liquid smoke

Finishers:

1 TBSP capers in brine, drained

or

1-2 TBSP salted smoked almonds

or

1-2 TBSP pickled jalapeno slices

or

1/4 cup kimchi or sauerkraut, very well drained

Optional Starches to Stretch/Boost:

toast (spread with nondairy butter, or hummus, or pesto, or nut/seed butter with maybe a light touch of maple syrup added), as desired

6-inch corn tortillas, store-bought (or if you have them, day-old), as desired

To serve (optional, pick one):

hot sauce, pico de gallo, maybe even a little warmed marinara, avocado cubes

Heat tomatoes in oil (or just oil) in a large nonstick skillet over medium-medium-high heat (on an electric range, turn the heat up until the pointer is pointing at about 315 degrees on the circle that is your range knob). Add frozen vegetables and cook for a couple minutes, stirring frequently, until they begin to come to life/brighten in color. Add scallions, if using, along with your chosen seasonings.

Add base of choice:

For tofu, tear off hunks and squeeze it roughly through your fist, letting it fall into the pan. Break up any too-large chunks with a spoon, stir to incorporate seasoning, and spread everything in a single layer as best you can. Let cook, undisturbed, five minutes. Toss well (the tofu that was in contact with the pan should look a bit golden now) and add pieces of torn corn tortilla, if using. Let cook, undisturbed, three minutes. Add finishers, toss again, let cook another two minutes undisturbed. If your tofu isn't browned to your liking, let cook a little further, tossing every minute, being careful not to burn. Serve with hot sauce.

For tempeh or polenta, add the pieces to the pan, stir to incorporate seasoning, and spread into a single layer as best you can. Let cook, undisturbed, for about two minutes. Toss. Continue that pattern, stirring every minute or two (let your nose be your guide on when to give it a toss) until the bits are all nicely golden. This will take 5-7 minutes overall, but cook longer if needed to brown your base, being careful not to burn. Add your finishers during the last two minutes of cooking. Serve with topping of choice, if using.

Notes:

The vegetables listed above are suggestions. Feel free to swap your favorite, but note that any vegetable that releases a lot of water will interfere with the browning of your base. Likewise, if using kimchi or sauerkraut as a finisher, set it aside in a sieve to drain thoroughly while you prepare everything else to avoid adding excess liquid to your dish.

Garlic powder is particularly effective in a tofu scramble.

Some favorite combinations you may want to try: tempeh with collards, tofu with broccoli, polenta with edamame (polenta can also be combined with a single handful of veg and half a block of tempeh or a handful of cooked beans to increase protein content, if desired), and either polenta or tofu with green beans.

Two Papers, Two Drinks, and a Plea

As you can see, this week's post comes early, since a lot of MSV readers will be busy later this week celebrating Christmas. And because I have an enormous favor to ask. There's a fun part, but first, a little not-so-fun history is in order.

Two months ago, my partner lost his job as Arts and Entertainment Editor at Knoxville's alt-weekly Metro Pulse when it was unceremoniously shuttered after 23 years in print.

Metro Pulse Vol 24 No 42

For the last several years, it was owned by the publishing giant Scripps, which still owns Knoxville's daily paper. While MP was profitable at the time of its closure, it was sacrificed to save labor costs. Publisher Patrick Birmingham arranged for the re-branded weekend insert from the daily to try to fill the void. In response, the town voiced its disapproval.

In response to that, the freshly fired MP editors got to work.

There's tons of information about all this, so I'll keep it brief. The whole thing starts with a non-profit. Beloved writer and MP Associate Editor Jack Neely will head The Knoxville History Project, an educational organization dedicated to promoting Knoxville culture. The KHP will establish the for-profit newsweekly editors Coury Turczyn and Matthew Everett will manage, the Knoxville Mercury. In using this structure, they aim to ensure that the paper will always be locally, independently owned, and that both enterprises will thrive in the community for years to come.

This isn't a hobby, or a scrappy start-up. These guys are all committed to doing what they do best (and have been doing cumulatively for something like a half-century) the best way they know how to do it. It will come as no surprise that right now they need money to get it going. To that end, there's a Kickstarter. It needs our help.

(We're getting to the fun part. See?)

I don't have any advertising on MSV. I don't take donations. But MSV most definitely takes financial and emotional resources, and with my partner's income disappearing suddenly (he refused his severance package with its non-compete clause in order to start a new paper), it's been difficult to keep up. But I want to. I believe normalizing vegan food at every opportunity is important work, and I appreciate all of you for aiding that effort by reading week after week. Even if you're not in Knoxville (and I know many of you aren't even in the U.S.), if you value MSV and think this site is worth a few bucks, please take a minute to pledge so my partner and I can both continue to do these things that we think matter. If you are in Knoxville, or you care about journalism, this effort most definitely needs you. I know it's the season of financial obligations for many of you, but since Kickstarter is an all-or-nothing deal, even if you pledge now, you aren't charged until the campaign ends in early-mid-January. If you can't donate, but want to help, please spread the word. If you do pledge, tell everyone! And thanks.

Bonus: If MSV readers combined pledge a total of $1,000.00 by the end of the year, I'll increase my personal contribution by another $250.00. (Email me at marketstreetvegan at gmail dot com to let me know the name you pledged under so it can be verified.)

There's a lot of excitement, and this is a big deal. And so brand new. And so uncertain (did I mention there's a Kickstarter?). So most days, you can bet I could use a drink. That's how I'm paying tribute here on MSV. There's something for both the old paper and the new paper we're hoping to get soon that can carry its spirit (yep) into a new era.

First up, Metro Pulse. As I said, the paper was closed without warning, so here's an opportunity to toast it one last time. Started in 1991, MP's growth and identity in its first decade had a lot to do with covering local bands The V-Roys and Superdrag as they promised to land deals and go places. Which means a lot of ink spent on young white dudes in bars, which is also who and where a lot of the staffers were at the time.

So, beer, of course.

I know there was plenty of PBR and High Life spilled on plenty of bars, but I made this cocktail with Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, a prime '90s choice for young, literate, dorky white folks in small cities. Like MP, it did its growing in the '90s in the early years of the craft beer movement (and, as I recall, was the six-pack MP staffers et. al. reported they took along when they covered the gentleman's club in the Old City that stupidly opened in violation of city ordinance in the early '00s and was predictably closed after about five seconds). Most importantly, it remains a really good beer. And can stand up to tequila without becoming a beer margarita.

The Defibrillator: hop-forward beer, a bit of tequila, lime, and orange liqueur. A little crude, maybe, but for a paper that--when MP co-founder Ian Blackburn tells the story--sounds like it was once put together in a bedroom ransom-note style, not entirely inappropriate. The drink is surprisingly refreshing, especially over ice, with a--wait for it--quite bitter finish.

The Defibrillator

Print the recipes

ice

1 oz tequila

1/2 oz orange liqueur

1/2 oz lime juice

6 oz Sierra Nevada Pale Ale

Fill a shaker half full with ice. Add tequila, liqueur, and lime juice. Shake to chill and strain into a Collins glass. Top with beer. May be served over ice.

Moving on, no one knows for sure what the new Knoxville Mercury will be like, since it doesn't yet exist. While Coury and Matthew aren't likely to dramatically change their minds about what a weekly in Knoxville should look like after having run one for the better part of the last decade, there will be new bells and whistles (like an improved online presence), and the incoming KM Art Director Tricia Bateman is responsible for this:

There's every reason for optimism.

To make a drink to toast the new enterprise, what we do have to go on is a name. Luckily, it's Mercury, a fairly evocative word, as Jack Neely deftly illustrates in his recent blog post:

The god is swift, the planet’s hot, the car is classic, the element is dangerous but useful.

Dangerous but useful might be the fittest description of any tasty and potent drink I've heard, so I present the Mercury Rising, a forthright drink whose effects are swift, with fresh ginger for heat. I've added black tea syrup, as sweet iced tea has long been on the menu when the mercury rises in the South. And since this all rests on Knoxville culture, we may as well stick with geography and use Southern rye, an old classic become popular again, and just the whiskey you want when you're adding sugar. (Once Knox Whiskey Works is in the aged production market, the whiskey choice for a Mercury Rising will likely be obvious.) A little acid and done: a drink stiff enough to help you shred your five-figure severance agreement and instead ask your readers to help launch your new job. Cheers.

Mercury Rising

Print the recipes

1 inch peeled ginger root

ice

1/2 oz black tea syrup, recipe follows

2 oz rye

club soda

lemon wedge

Use a Microplane zester to grate ginger. Measure out 1/2 tsp and add to the bottom of a rocks glass. Add ice, pour in syrup and rye, and give a quick stir. Finish with a splash of soda and a squeeze of lemon. Serve with a swizzle.

Black Tea Syrup

2 cups water

2 cups natural cane sugar (evaporated cane juice)

1 family-size black tea bag

Add sugar and water to a pot. Bring to a boil, stir until sugar dissolves, then remove from heat. Submerge tea bag completely and let steep 10 minutes. Press tea bag with the back of a spoon to extract absorbed liquid, discard bag, and let syrup cool completely before using.

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As always, but especially now, thanks for reading. To Knoxville! And to everyone who cares! Let's make a paper.  

 

Yours,

Amanda

Warming Cannellini Bean and Wild Rice Soup with Mushroom Broth

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Winter's only days away now, and soup is definitely in order. This one is simple but lovely and woodsy, with plenty of gorgeously nutty wild rice and plump, tender beans for heft. A generous addition of white pepper gives the bowl an assertive but not aggressive warmth that will be welcome for months to come. (Though of course, if you're sensitive to heat, start small and season to taste.)

The broth gets a nice body and depth from two concentrated flavor sources: red miso and a bunch of ground dried mushrooms. Grit can always be an issue with mushrooms, but you're grinding this right down to powder to ensure every last bit of flavor makes it into your soup. The above from Everything Mushrooms have been ground into several soups and a couple gravies with no texture problems yet. Good stuff. And all that immediate flavor makes the soup nearly effortless. If you can wait for wild rice to cook, you've got this one down.

Warming Cannellini Bean and Wild Rice Soup with Mushroom Broth

Print the recipe

serves 2-4

1/2 oz dried mushrooms of choice

6 cups water

1 no-sodium-added vegetable bouillon cube

1/2 tsp dried sage

1/2 tsp dried thyme

1 bay leaf

1/2 cup wild rice

1 15-oz can cannellini beans, drained and rinsed

1/2 tsp white pepper

1 TBSP red miso

1 tsp red wine vinegar

Grind the dried mushrooms to a powder in a coffee grinder. Add 5 cups water to a pot. Whisk mushroom powder into remaining cup of water, then whisk that into the pot. Add bouillon cube, sage, thyme, and bay leaf, cover, and bring to a boil. Add rice, cover, make sure the pot returns to a boil, and reduce heat to low. Simmer steadily without disturbing for 45 minutes. Check rice. Cook longer, if needed.

Remove bay leaf. Increase heat to medium-low. Add beans and white pepper. Let simmer gently, uncovered, until beans are warmed through, 5-7 minutes. Meanwhile, add a ladle full of soup to a small bowl and whisk in miso. Remove pot from heat, stir in miso mixture, and add vinegar. Stir, adjust salt, if needed, and serve.

Broccoli, Tempeh, & Apple Salad with Toasted Pine Nuts & Lemon-Pepper Dressing

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There's so much to love about this simple, chunky salad. It boasts a variety of textures and flavors, and is easy to put together while still taking a few minutes to show the ingredients enough TLC to make them each shine. Broccoli is quickly steamed to a brilliant hue, tempeh is quickly broiled until gorgeously nutty, and they both get tossed with crisp and sweet apple, irresistibly rich pine nuts, and a gentle dose of a bright lemon-pepper vinaigrette.

broccoli tempeh apple salad detail

Broccoli, Tempeh, & Apple Salad with Toasted Pine Nuts & Lemon-Pepper Dressing

Print the recipe

serves 2-3

8 oz broccoli crown (about 1 large)

8 oz tempeh

4 tsp sesame oil

1/8 tsp ground cayenne

2 TBSP olive oil

1/2 tsp lemon zest

1 TBSP lemon juice

1/2 tsp freshly cracked black pepper

1/2 tsp fine sea or kosher salt

1/4 cup pine nuts

1 sweet apple of choice

 

Heat oven broiler. Prepare an ice bath.

Steam broccoli until bright green, a few minutes, and immediately transfer to ice bath. Meanwhile, whisk together sesame oil and cayenne. Brush one side of tempeh with half the oil and place on the highest oven rack. Broil until golden, about 5 minutes. Carefully turn, brush other side with remaining sesame oil, and broil another 4-5 minutes. Set aside until cool enough to handle.

Whisk together olive oil, lemon zest and juice, pepper, and salt in a small bowl. Set aside.

Toast pine nuts in a dry skillet heated over medium heat, tossing constantly, until they begin to color, being very careful not to burn. Transfer to a plate and set aside.

Dry broccoli, discard any tough stalks, and chop florets into small bite-size pieces. Transfer to a serving bowl. Chop tempeh into small bite-size pieces and add to bowl.

Chop apple into 1/2-inch dice and add to bowl. Pour dressing over and toss well to coat. Add pine nuts and toss again. The salad can be served immediately or assembled up to a few hours in advance to let the flavors mingle. If holding, toast and add pine nuts just before serving.

Party Animals No. 33: Roasted Veg Dinner for Four

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Hopes of posting a new recipe this week were dashed when a bit of equipment failure in the MSV kitchen (which occurred right in the middle of preparing last week's feast, no less) meant mostly not touching anything in there for a few days until it got sorted out.

So, instead, a recap of a dinner for six that became a dinner for four when a couple of friends came over to chow down on a bunch of vegetables a couple week back. To start, sparkling wine with sage-ginger syrup. The instructions suggest adding an ounce or two of syrup, which makes for a decidedly, well, syrupy drink if you're going with a standard six-ounce pour. Even an ounce was a bit much, which could possibly be overcome with a simple squeeze of citrus, but why bother when half an ounce makes for a really lovely, subtle drink while still highlighting the wine? Remember this one for every fall and winter entertaining opportunity ever.

Then onto nibbles, both from Pure Vegan. The orange salad in the large bowl is more or less the most expensive fruit salad ever: oranges, dates, pistachios, and on. Nice, if you can afford it. Great textures, lovely seasonings. In the smaller bowl is a mix of olives and almonds warmed with garlic and thyme. Very good, naturally.

The roasted vegetables come also from Pure Vegan. Each is roasted separately with an herb: carrots with parsley, green beans with thyme, potatoes with rosemary, and pearl onions and garlic with sage, the last of which come out particularly stunning. The book suggests serving these as handheld items with a vegan aioli for dipping. For a more sit-down version here, black beans were roasted with cumin and smoked salt along with everything else, paired with rice, and everyone had a bowl to pile all the eats into, over which they could drizzle a vibrant dressing of lemon, parsley, and pine nuts.

And for something sweet to finish, poached pears and bourbon-masala chai ganache served with store-bought lemon sorbet.

Back next week with a new recipe, at last.

Party Animals No. 32: Not-Thanksgiving 2014

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Long story short, the MSV house didn't see the same Thanksgiving crowd it has for the last half-dozen years. But that didn't get in the way of breaking out the bubbly, lighting candles, tying on some festive ribbons, and cooking up a heap of food a day after most of the folks we know. And it went a little something like this:

(That's tofu-pecan meatloaf, wild mushroom-chickpea gravy, biscuits, smashed potatoes.)

(Cranberry relish, cornbread-spiced walnut-fig dressing, and a green salad with lots grapefruit and oranges and a black cherry dressing.)

Hope you've all had a generous week, whether you celebrate fall harvest or not. Below is an apple strudel waiting to be dusted with powdered sugar and served with vegan vanilla ice cream, so until next week, thanks for reading.

Sweet Tea-Marinated Cornmeal-Crusted Tofu Tortilla Stack (or Taco)

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Sweet, tender, golden slices of tofu, creamy chunks of avocado, and a tart relish made from brilliant carrots and perky poblano: just add tortillas (preferably fresh), and dig in.

There are a few steps here, mostly due to pressing the tofu, then marinating the tofu, and of course, making the tortillas. Nothing's difficult (and the firmer your tofu, the easier it is to throw together), but it all takes time, so save this one for a day you're in the mood to cook, or when you have a friend on hand to sip wine with you to pass the time effortlessly. In a pinch, use store-bought tortillas.

Finally, these make great little stacks with the thicker tortillas that come out of the MSV kitchen but you could easily wrap this into a taco with commercial tortillas. Or if you're feeling froggy, make sopes, and spread on a generous layer of refried beans before putting down the tofu for a dinner dreams are made of.

Sweet Tea-Marinated Cornmeal-Crusted Tofu Tortilla Stack (or Taco)

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yields 8 stacks/tacos

For the tofu:

14 oz extra or super firm tofu, drained

1 1/2 cups water

1 family-size black tea bag

1/4 cup natural cane sugar (evaporated cane juice)

pinch salt

juice of half a lime

1/2 cup cornmeal

3/4 tsp fine sea or kosher salt

freshly cracked black pepper

For the slaw:

1 large poblano

1 very large or 2 small carrots (about 4 oz total weight)

juice of half a lime

1 TBSP olive oil

1/4 tsp ground cumin

1/4 tsp ground coriander

1/4 tsp smoked paprika

pinch salt

To serve:

8 corn tortillas

flesh of 1 avocado, sliced into eighths

hot sauce (optional)

Wrap the tofu in a folded, clean (non-terry) kitchen towel and place a heavy object on top. Let press 20 minutes.

Meanwhile, make tortillas or heat prepared tortillas, if using. Hold in a warm oven.

When tofu is almost done pressing, heat 1 1/2 cups water and place tea bag in a wide, shallow, heatproof dish. Pour hot water over bag and let steep 3 minutes. Meanwhile, slice tofu into 8 rectangles. Remove tea bag, and add sugar, salt, and lime. Whisk until sugar is dissolved. Add tofu in a single layer and let marinate 30 minutes.

Meanwhile, shred/julienne the carrot and poblano (feel free to use a julienne or vegetable peeler, or a good knife if you're comfortable with one). Whisk together lime, oil, cumin, coriander, and pinch salt. Pour over vegetables and toss well. It will be quite tart, but will mellow a bit as it sits.

Heat a large nonstick skillet or griddle over medium heat. Whisk together cornmeal, salt, and a crack of black pepper. When cooking surface is hot, gently remove a slice of tofu from the marinade, let excess drip off, dredge in cornmeal, and cook about 4 minutes on each side, until crisp and browned in spots. Repeat with all slices, working in batches (in a large skillet, four slices should fit comfortably at one time).

Give the slaw one last toss and drain off excess dressing. To serve as stacks, layer tortilla, tofu, and avocado, then top with slaw. Serve with hot sauce, if desired.

Savory Barley, Polenta, and Mushroom Breakfast Porridge (from the Slow Cooker)

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A little chopping in the evening gets you a savory, hot breakfast upon waking. The barley becomes very creamy, cubes of convenient prepared polenta grow tender and take on flavor during the long cook without losing their shape, and simple marinated mushrooms provide contrasting color and a bit of texture. Scallions and bell pepper add a shot of green and their mildly bitter touch, cutting through the starch to help balance the bowl.

Savory Barley, Polenta, and Mushroom Breakfast Porridge (from the Slow Cooker)

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serves 6-8

8 oz button mushrooms

4 scallions

2 TBSP reduced-sodium tamari

2 no-salt-added vegetable bouillon cubes

5 cups water

1 green bell pepper

1 18-oz tube prepared polenta

1 cup dried pearled barley (not quick-cooking)

1 tsp rubbed sage

1/2 tsp dried marjoram

1/2 tsp fine sea or kosher salt

1/4 tsp celery seed

1/4 tsp crushed red pepper

freshly cracked black pepper, to taste

With a damp kitchen towel, wipe mushrooms clean, discard tough stems, and quarter caps. Chop the white and tender green parts of scallions. Toss both with tamari and let sit 1 hour.

Meanwhile, dissolve bouillon in water, cover with clean kitchen towel, and set aside until ready to assemble. Trim and chop pepper into small dice and add to slow cooker. Chop polenta into bite-size cubes (about 3/4-inch) and set aside.

Before bed, add barley, all spices except pepper, prepared broth, and marinated mushrooms (include any unabsorbed tamari) to the slow cooker. Stir to combine. Add polenta, cover, and cook on low 8-9 hours, then remove crock from heating base, if possible. At this point, there will be some standing liquid in the bottom of the crock, but this will thicken as it stands. Remove lid and crack black pepper, to taste, over the top. Stir well. Let stand, uncovered, about 15 minutes before serving. Garnish with chopped scallion tops, if desired.

Leftovers can be reheated on the stove with broth (or possibly nondairy milk) to thin.

Hitting the Books No. 2: Easy Dinner Pies from The Vegan Stoner and Colleen Patrick-Goudreau

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Welcome back to Hitting the Books. It's another two-fer, featuring two low-stress meals. First up, a dish from Colleen Patrick-Goudrau's The Vegan Table (available at Lawson-McGhee under 641.5636 PATR).

Sweet browned onions and wilted greens (here spinach, though the recipe calls for chard) are combined with intense Kalamata olives and briny little capers to create one tasty pile of eats. Even better, it's gives great depth of flavor while being friendly to even the newest of cooks. If you can slice an onion and stir, you're in.

The book presents this melange as a side dish, but for you bowl-of-food lovers, it seems just the thing to heap over any creamy starch, like polenta/grits or mashed potatoes. But a note on the recipe says it makes a fabulous pizza topping, so here we are. Definitely recommended.

And just imagine what a little crispy tempeh might do for the whole thing.

Next, another dip into The Vegan Stoner Cookbook. This falafel pie--complete with yogurt-cucumber sauce--was slightly less fun than expected, but it did turn what would've been a dinner of hummus and crudite into something more satisfying, with very little effort. Just add water to falafel mix for the crust, chop your veg and puree the sauce while that bakes, and done.

A note on the recipe suggests tucking pieces of the pie into pita, which is probably how this eats best. Maybe next time. In any event, it's dead simple, and still pretty fun. If you have kids, this would be a great one to get them cooking with. If you're comfortable explaining to them the tomato with the drugs on the cover, anyway.

As always, thanks for reading, and see you next week with a new recipe.

About Hitting the Books: You know that shelf in your house with all the great cookbooks you don't get to nearly as often as you'd like? Yeah, there's one of those over here, too. The Hitting the Books series allows for occasional opportunities to dig into that shelf and highlight some handy cookbooks.

Potato and Garlic Phyllo Pie

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This one's a little love note to garlic and potatoes, accented with parsley. It's easy to approach potatoes as a delivery system for fat and salt, but they're treated a little more gently here to let their earthy charm shine through.

And because it's flaky and golden and lovely, wrap up this natural pair in a little phyllo for a pretty presentation. Or for a shortcut, skip the phyllo, bake everything in a small dish with a good drizzle of olive oil or melted butter over the top (as a bonus, maybe add MSV's irresistible savory nut crumble), and you've still got a totally tasty side on your hands. Note that if you use butter instead of oil, you may want to reduce the salt a touch.

The pie is probably best warm or at room temperature, but you can dig into it when hot or cold, too. It's ready for breakfast, lunch, or dinner, as you please. Plus, naturally, brunch. Serve with soup--maybe one made creamy with pureed beans--for a satisfying meal.

Potato and Garlic Phyllo Pie

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serves 4

1 lb russet potato, sliced very thinly (app. 1/16 inch)

3 cloves garlic, minced

1/4 cup loosely packed flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped

3/4 tsp fine sea or kosher salt

1/4 tsp freshly grated nutmeg

freshly cracked black pepper, to taste

8 sheets frozen phyllo, thawed

1/4 cup olive oil, for brushing

1/3 cup plain soymilk

2 TBSP nutritional yeast

2 tsp corn starch

Heat oven to 350. Wet and ring out a clean kitchen towel and set aside.

In a mixing bowl, combine potatoes, garlic, parsley, salt, nutmeg, and pepper. Stir to combine well.

Place one sheet of phyllo in the bottom of a 9-inch round nonstick springform pan so that half the sheet covers the bottom and the rest of the sheet runs up and over the side. Working quickly, brush the bottom with oil, turn the pan a quarter-turn and lay another sheet in the same way. Repeat with all 8 sheets, with the brushed oil and quarter-turn between each sheet (this will leave you with sheets hanging all around the pan). Pour the potatoes in, spread into an even layer, and cover with the damp towel to help keep the phyllo from drying out.

Still working quickly, whisk together the milk, nutritional yeast, and corn starch. Remove the towel and pour the mixture evenly over potatoes.

Fold in each of the overhanging portions of the sheets of phyllo, brushing with oil between each layer (if they crack here and there, no big deal, just brush with oil and keep on). When all sheets have been folded in, brush the top layer thoroughly with oil.

Bake until the potatoes are tender and the phyllo is golden, 55-60 minutes.

Dead Simple Apple Skillet with Lemon and Sugar

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This satisfying apple dessert combines the clean presentation of pie with the ease and comfort of clafoutis. Perfect for really easy fall entertaining, or any lazy morning around the house.

All this one takes is a brief saute and a quick spin with the immersion blender to produce a silky batter that's poured over the simply spiced apples. It quickly bakes up moist and gently chewy, something like a dumpling. The apples are cooked quickly so they keep some bite to contrast with the soft dough. A squeeze of lemon and a dusting of sugar provide an elegant finish.

Dead Simple Apple Skillet with Lemon and Sugar

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serves 4-6

For the apples:

2 TBSP veg oil or nondairy butter

1 sweet apple of choice (we used Honeycrisp), cored, peeled and cut into 1/4-inch slices

1/4 cup turbinado (or brown sugar)

1/2 tsp ground cinnamon

For the batter:

1/2 cup apple sauce

2 TBSP canola oil

1/2 cup plain soy milk

1/4 tsp vanilla extract

1/2 cup all-purpose flour

1/4 tsp fine sea or kosher salt

1/2 tsp baking powder

To serve:

1 lemon, cut into wedges

powdered sugar, to taste

Heat oven to 425.

In an ovenproof 8-inch skillet, heat 2 TBSP oil or butter over medium heat. Add apples, brown sugar, and cinnamon. Carefully stir--the skillet will be crowded at first until the apples begin to soften--to combine the ingredients. Cook, stirring often, until apples have softened, but are still firm, about 5 minutes. Remove from heat and spread the apples into an even layer.

Combine all batter ingredients in a quart jar and puree with an immersion blender (alternately, a small blender should work) just until smooth. The batter should be silky and thick, but pourable. Pour the batter over apples in the skillet, smooth, and bake until bubbly and golden at the edges, 18-20 minutes.

Let cool before cutting. Sprinkle individual slices with lemon juice and powdered sugar.

Roasted Acorn Squash and Poblano-Cilantro Pesto over Black Beans

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This one screams fall: sweet, tender acorn squash, earthy and robust black beans, all topped off with a squeeze of lime and a decidedly perky pesto made from crisp poblanos and fragrant cilantro.

The beans cook in about the same amount of time it takes to roast the squash, so all you have to do is blend up the pesto while those two cook away. Not quick, but easy. Or, since dried beans can be unpredictable in their cooking time, feel free to cook the beans in advance on a day you're doing other things around the house. Having beans ready to go is always a good move, anyway.

Roasted Acorn Squash and Poblano-Cilantro Pesto over Black Beans

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serves 4-6

For the black beans:

1 lb dried black beans, soaked 8 hours, drained and rinsed well

1 tsp chili powder

1 tsp dried oregano

1 dried bay leaf

4 cups water, divided

1 TBSP ground dark roast coffee

3/4 tsp fine sea or kosher salt

1/4 cup chickpea flour

For the acorn squash:

1 small acorn squash, halved and seeded

1 tsp oil

salt and pepper

For the pesto:

2 small poblanos (or 1 large), seeded, veined, and roughly chopped

1/2 cup loosely packed cilantro

2 tsp red miso

1/4 cup raw pepitas

1 clove garlic, peeled

1/4 cup olive oil, plus more, if needed

To serve:

1 lime, cut into wedges

Heat oven to 400.

To prepare the beans, heat over high heat in a covered pot the drained, soaked beans, chili powder, oregano, and bay leaf with 3 cups water. Meanwhile, heat the remaining 1 cup water in a kettle and add ground coffee to a french press. Steep 5 minutes and add coffee to bean pot (discard grounds). (Alternately, brew 1 cup weak coffee in a drip machine and add to pot.) Reduce heat to the low end of medium-low, cock lid, and cook until tender, about an hour, or as needed, stirring occasionally. Discard bay leaf.

Add squash cut-side up to a small pan and roast until just tender, 30-40 minutes.

While the squash and beans cook, puree all pesto ingredients until smooth. Thin with additional oil, if desired.

Remove squash from oven, carefully cut into 3/4-inch slices. Heat the broiler, sprinkle salt and pepper over the squash slices, and return to the oven 8 inches from the heat source. Cook until tender and browned at the edges, about 10 minutes.

When the beans are tender, add 3/4 tsp salt. Spoon out 1/2 cup of cooking liquid and whisk in chickpea flour. Increase pot heat to medium-low. Once simmering strongly, stir the chickpea slurry into the pot and let cook until slightly thickened, about 5 minutes.

Spoon beans into a wide, shallow bowl, place a squash ring over them, squeeze the juice of a lime wedge over it all, and top with pesto.

Hitting the Books No. 1: Tempeh from Isa Does It and The Vegan Stoner

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New series! You know that shelf in your house with all the great cookbooks you don't get to nearly as often as you like? Yeah, there's one of those over here, too. The Hitting the Books series will allow for occasional opportunities to dig into that shelf and highlight some handy cookbooks.

This first HtB post is all about comfort food. First up: Red-Hot BLTs from Isa Does It (available at Lawson-McGhee Library: 641.5636 MOSK) by Isa Chandra Moskowitz.

A total win for hot sauce lovers, this one features a generous amount of Frank's and was just the thing to perk up a chilled day when it seemed like it might never stop raining. Nothing combats a rainy day like vinegar and cayenne. This is among the simplest recipes in the book, but the timing was right. Isa's book will definitely pop up here again, because there's a long list of recipes to jump on, sooner rather than later.

Since tomato season is done for, above is a Bell pepper (roasted red), Lettuce, and Tempeh sandwich on whole grain. The sweetness of the pepper is a nice foil for the spicy tempeh, and a great autumn alternative to the traditional BLT. The mayo is homemade from the next book, The Vegan Stoner Cookbook by the Vegan Stoner team (pictured up top).

The mayo is blissfully straightforward, like traditional mayonnaise is: oil, liquid protein (here, soy milk), and vinegar. Plus, seasonings you can easily adjust to get your preferred blend. Whiz with an immersion blender, and you have fresh mayo in a snap. The no-fuss style of the Vegan Stoner folks is completely genius. Come for the great illustrations, stay for the food.

With vegan mayonnaise already made, tartar sauce couldn't be far behind. Because it contains not only capers, but also cornichons (we used this recipe). So Vegan Stoner's tempeh and chips was the next recipe on deck. Crispy, and hearty, and totally fried, this one made a confirmed tempeh-hater pal totally happy. Again, totally fried.

The thick slabs of tempeh get nice and tender (and not at all bitter, without pre-steaming), surrounded by a golden blend of flour, cornmeal, breadcrumbs, and in this version, a healthy sprinkle of Old Bay. Roast up a pile of potatoes (mixed is lovely, or use frozen fries, as the book directs), and tuck into some serious comfort, which is what this book is all about.

See you next week with a new recipe. In the meantime, happy reading.

Phyllo Flodni (and Authenticity) for MSV's Second Anniversary

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MSV turns two! Thanks a heap for being here for it. Like last year, the format of today's celebratory post is different than normal, in that you'll get a story about the recipe. Plus, an identity. I'm Amanda. Right now, I do all the stuff around MSV, and today's recipe is several years in the making for me.

When my friend Julie fed her version of flodni to me nearly a decade ago, I was a minor mess of a person. Some of that is common to folks who are, as I was, in their early twenties—questionable laundry practices, being stuck in a serious relationship I didn’t know how to take seriously. Some of it was less common, like grappling with what I hadn’t yet recognized as chronic anxiety, including social anxiety, which contributed to my habits of working 60-hour weeks, indulging in very regular drinking binges, and being terrified of most food.

I first thought of Julie as a smartass, a really smart one, but in contrast to my inability to treat anything at all seriously back then, I discovered Julie had (and still has) an enviable intellectual curiosity and a deep capacity for sincerity in between cracking wise. She was older than I, had it together, and one year, invited me over to witness the annual tradition of her and her friend making a giant holiday pastry (you can read her writing about that here). I agreed, but, as ever, had to work late. By the time I showed up, exhausted, more than a little intimated, and probably wearing dirty jeans, Julie met me at the door, saying her friend was under the weather and had taken off as soon as the pan was in the oven.

I was embarrassed about having missed the whole thing, and my instinct was to run back to my unhappy home, but Julie was a peach about it. She asked me in, poured me a glass of wine, kept the conversation going (to this day, not my forte), and when the flodni had cooled sufficiently, cut me a slice. Still just warm, fruity, and earthy, it was a generous thing, and I was grateful. Despite a deep conviction that I didn’t deserve it, in clumsy circumstances, I felt welcomed--maybe even a little fussed over--by someone I thought a lot of, and at a time in my life when I probably hadn’t dared to eat a dessert for some time.

So flodni stuck with me. I asked Julie for the recipe two years after that first taste. She sent it to me, and I still didn’t get around to making it. It involves hand-grinding a pound of poppy seeds, after all. But a couple months ago, I realized it might be the perfect labor of love for MSV’s second anniversary. And still I didn’t get around to it. Not the way I meant to, anyway.

Really, it’s a small miracle this thing got made at all. I wasn’t sure MSV would get an anniversary post. A home project is eating up all my discretionary income, and I’ve been spending the last few months cooking large batches of inexpensive ingredients, and taking fewer chances with the fresh ingredients I do splurge on. It doesn’t make for the most interesting blogging and, for someone neither Hungarian nor Jewish, takes all the urgency out of veganizing Hungarian Jewish egg pastry.

But Julie unwittingly helped me to loosen up again. One of her funny notes from six years ago:

“For God's sake, do NOT buy the prepared stuff [poppy seed filling]. It only counts if you sweated and ground poppyseeds [sic].”

I swore she had a line about grunting being a necessary ingredient, but I wasn’t able to track that down in writing.

When I got in touch to let her know I might want to blog a version of her recipe, she offered encouragement and again provided some tips, including this note about the poppy paste:

“I use the canned shit every time now, grinding just enough of my own seeds to stave off the judgmental glare of my dead grandmother.”

Priorities change all the time. I wanted to do justice to this beast, but I admitted to myself that the labor—a big part of Julie’s story about making this huge dessert every year—didn’t have to be part of mine. In fact, missing out on the labor was my story, and what was important to me about flodni was a memory of warmth in a chaotic, tiring, deeply insecure time. That memory can be celebrated—at long last—without spending tons of money and energy developing relatively niche vegan pastry. Because, hey, baking isn’t even my thing.

There’s another part of Julie’s story, a moral to the dessert: you take the bitter with the sweet. Each filling ingredient—the decidedly un-sweet walnuts, poppy seeds, and tart apple—is mixed with sugar and sprinkled with lemon before being layered between rich pastry. And when she originally sent me the recipe, she started her email with this line:

“OK, I have the wrinkled, discolored note paper before me, withdrawn from its secure place (stuck in the pages of a grease-stained Greek cookbook).”

No way using processed, pre-sweetened poppy paste diminishes any of that.

Make no mistake, history matters, and our stories matter. Knowing where a dish comes from can make us think about the circumstances it came from. It can make us feel like we’re participating in something bigger than our own small lives. But recording history is messy, and I think it’s also important to acknowledge that we’re likely viewing only part of the dish’s story. Choosing any one version to the exclusion of all other considerations shouldn’t be done unquestioningly, at the very least. I don’t believe authenticity should be pursued to the detriment of creatures weaker than I am, who rely on me to define their roles in the world, to decide how and when they live and die.

So here I present an entirely unfaithful reproduction of flodni. Changes abound, one from Julie, most from me. First, I’m cutting this recipe down to a quarter of what Julie makes. Second, Julie’s version strays from the common construction. I found most recipes include three thick layers of filling, whereas hers, which I’m using, breaks it up into six. And as the title of the recipe announces, I skipped making my own pastry altogether and enlisted convenient frozen phyllo.

Then there are the poppy seeds. There’s a specialty grinder for just this thing, but I didn’t want to insist on an appliance of that sort here. I ultimately took a cue from modern Indian cooking, grinding poppy seeds well in a coffee grinder and mixing the powder with apple juice to make a paste before finishing them off in the food processor. Julie’s grandmother gets no deference this way, and it can’t be as smooth as the canned shit, but it gets it done.

Finally, I found online a version from a bakery that included a layer of plum jam, which I found knee-bucklingly enticing, so I swapped pureed prunes for the second apple layer. I consider this the most transgressive, since it disrupts the concept of the cake, but prunes are good. For a more traditional pastry, feel free to double the apple layer to replace the plum puree. Next time, I’ll likely do just that, because apples are good, too. It’s an earthy, fruity, generous dish either way, tasting thoroughly of winter celebration.

And for what it’s worth, I managed to splash lemon juice and oil on my copy of the recipe.

Phyllo Flodni

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serves 6, adapted from my pal Julie's grandmother

1/2 cup (about 10) pitted prunes

1/2 cup apple juice, divided, plus another 3 TBSP

1 large lemon, cut into 8 wedges

4 oz poppy seeds

8 oz shelled, unsalted walnuts

4 TBSP natural cane sugar (evaporated cane juice), divided

1 Granny Smith apple

8 oz frozen phyllo sheets, thawed

1/4 cup melted nondairy butter or olive oil

Add the prunes and 1/4 cup apple juice to a small pot. Bring to a simmer over medium-high heat, reduce heat to medium-low, and keep at a steady simmer for 10 minutes, or until the prunes are very soft and the juice has reduced to a thin syrup. Carefully transfer pot contents to a quart jar, add 3 TBSP apple juice and the juice of 2 of the lemon wedges. Puree with an immersion blender. Set aside.

Grind the poppy seeds thoroughly in a coffee grinder (it's easiest to do it in two batches). Grind well, making sure you get a little clumping action to be sure you're releasing the oils. Transfer to a mixing bowl, stir in 1/4 cup apple juice, transfer to a food processor with 1 TBSP sugar and process for a total of 5 minutes, scraping the bowl as needed (every minute or so). Transfer back to the mixing bowl and set aside.

Wipe out processor bowl and grind the walnuts and 2 TBSP sugar finely. Set aside.

Peel and grate the apple into a bowl. Stir in 1 TBSP sugar.

Grease a 6-inch cake pan and preheat the oven to 350. Wet and wring out a clean kitchen towel to place over the phyllo to keep it from drying while it's not in use (i.e. while you're adding the filling layers to the pan).

Open the phyllo and use a pizza cutter to cut it into 6x6-inch squares (the rectangular stack is long enough so that you can cut two stacks of 6x6 squares--you should have no problem just cutting through the whole stack with the pizza cutter.) Have your liquid fat in a small bowl along with a brush.

Place one square in the bottom of the cake pan, brush it well with oil, and, working quickly, add another square. Repeat until you have laid five squares in the bottom (don't oil the top square), and cover your unused phyllo with the damp towel. Add half the walnut mixture to the pan, pressing it in evenly with your hands, squeeze the juice of a lemon wedge over the top, and add 3 squares of phyllo, brushing oil in between each layer. Press in half of the poppy mixture, squeeze a lemon wedge over it, repeat 3 phyllo squares, spread on all of the grated apple, squeeze on the lemon juice, and again with the 3 phyllo squares.

Repeat with the remaining nut and poppy layers, end with the pureed prunes, and top with 4 sheets of phyllo. Brush the top sheet thoroughly with oil.

Bake until golden and fragrant, 55-60 minutes. Allow to cool completely before cutting to allow the structure to solidify.

Traditional variation: omit the prune puree and double the apple mixture to use in its place.

 

Thank you all so much for reading. For those of you who prefer MSV's usual brevity and anonymity, next week will be back to normal style, with a feature to give me more time in the kitchen this fall with less stress.

Tempeh-Edamame Salad with Sriracha-Avocado Dressing on Toast Points

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Condiment attack! Zippy, satisfying, and perfect for making in advance and grabbing for deadly simple easy meals for a couple of days, you're gonna want to cuddle up with this creamy protein salad. The combination of tempeh and edamame provide tons of nourishment and a variety of texture.

The cucumber garnish provides freshness, crunch, and makes a necessary foil to the heat of sriracha sauce. This salad makes a great toast topper--if you need something fast and portable, grab any variety of store-bought melba toast from your grocer and dig in.

And if you happen to have some black sesame seeds hanging around, feel free to toss some in for a nice visual effect.

Tempeh-Edamame Salad with Sriracha-Avocado Dressing on Toast Points

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serves 4

8 oz tempeh

4 oz frozen edamame (about 2/3 cup)

flesh of 1 ripe avocado

2 TBSP sriracha sauce

2 TBSP rice vinegar

2 TBSP sesame seeds, (toasted, if you have time/energy)

1/2 tsp fine sea or kosher salt

1 medium cucumber, peeled and trimmed

toast, to serve

Steam the tempeh and edamame for 10 minutes.

Meanwhile, mash together avocado, sriracha, vinegar, sesame seeds, and salt until smooth (a few chunks are all right).

When the tempeh is done, toast your bread (if making toast) while the tempeh cools a bit. Halve the cucumber lengthwise, remove seeds with a spoon, and chop into 2-inch baton. When cool enough to handle, cut tempeh into 1/2 - 3/4-inch cubes and add to a mixing bowl with edamame. Mash roughly with a fork until no large cubes of tempeh are left. Stir in dressing and serve with toast garnished with cucumber.

Mushroom-Black Bean Burger with Onion Rings and Mustard Beer Sauce

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This week involves giving a bunch of credit where credit is due. For starters, this whole idea and the mustard comes from here. To follow that, a pair of store-bought items make this complex-looking enterprise relatively breezy:

If that photograph appeals to you, skip right on down to the recipe and get started. But don't overlook the considerable charms of this robust veggie burger (and honestly, the final product is greater than the sum of its parts). To put together a burger serious enough to hold up to onion rings, hoppy beer, and potent dijon mustard, start with a heap of mushrooms. Thinly sliced mushrooms, once sauteed, give incredible texture, and here we cram as many into these burgers as possible while still making sure they hold together. Round the patties out with earthy black beans, slap them on the (indoor electric) grill, and you have a really fun meal on your hands.

Multitasking makes this dish come together fairly smoothly, so read through the recipe before getting started. The mustard beer sauce can be made first thing, or even the day before.

Note that this recipe yields roughly twice as much beer mustard as you'll need for this quantity of burgers (and we suggest you be generous with the sauce on these guys), but have no fear. It's great on everything. Toss it with a grain salad, or a green salad, or dip the rest of your onion rings in it. It's zippy, spicy, sweet, and even a little floral from the hops. Dead simple to put together, and a total win for mustard lovers, it's a recipe we're keeping close by.

Mushroom-Black Bean Burger with Onion Rings and Mustard Beer Sauce

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serves 4, adapted from Climbing Grier Mountain

1 lb button mushrooms, wiped clean with a damp cloth

1 15-oz can black beans

frozen onion rings (at least 8, more if you like)

2 TBSP olive oil

2 cloves garlic, minced

2 TBSP reduced-sodium tamari

2 tsp red wine vinegar

1/2 tsp liquid smoke

1/2 tsp smoked paprika

1/2 tsp dried thyme

1/4 cup unsalted chopped pecans

1/4 cup rolled oats

1/2 tsp fine sea or kosher salt

4 whole wheat burger buns

4-6 TBSP Mustard Beer Sauce, recipe follows

Preheat oven to 400. Meanwhile, remove and discard tough stems from mushrooms and very thinly slice the caps (cut in half any mushrooms larger than 2 inches in diameter before slicing). Drain and rinse the beans in a sieve and set aside to let drain.

Place onion rings on a baking sheet on a rack in the middle of the oven and bake for 10 minutes. Flip carefully and cook until golden, another 3-5 minutes. Set aside.

Meanwhile, heat oil in a skillet. Add mushrooms and garlic. Cook until mushrooms have released their liquid, 3-5 minutes. Add tamari, vinegar, liquid smoke, paprika, and thyme. Cook another 3 minutes, or until all liquid has evaporated (the mushrooms will remain moist). Set aside.

Heat a countertop electric grill(*). Meanwhile, use a coffee grinder to process the pecans and oats--in separate batches--into a fine meal. Add to a mixing bowl and stir in the 1/2 tsp salt. Add drained black beans. Mash roughly with a fork until you get a thoroughly mixed dough with some whole beans remaining. Stir in mushrooms. Form four large patties (dampen your hands in between as needed to prevent sticking). Cook with the grill closed until golden and cooked through, 8-10 minutes. Carefully use a thin, wide spatula to transfer them to a plate--they will be delicate at this point--and let cool 5 minutes. During this time, they'll firm up and become much easier to handle.

Preheat oven broiler, cut buns in half, and toast cut sides. Serve burgers topped with onion rings (two per burger, or to taste) and a tablespoon or so of mustard beer sauce.

Mustard Beer Sauce

1/4 cup pale ale, such as Sierra Nevada

1/2 cup dijon mustard

2 TBSP natural cane sugar (evaporated cane juice)

Let ale sit at room temperature for about an hour to allow the beer to lose some of its carbonation. Whisk beer together with mustard and sugar. Adjust seasoning, if needed. (Commercially prepared dijon mustards typically contain enough salt that you won't need to add any, but your mileage may vary.)

(*These should also work reasonable well in a skillet, browning on both sides, but be very careful when you flip them to keep the burgers intact. If you have success baking them, let us know.)

Fiery Cantaloupe-Cucumber Salad

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What you see is pretty much what you get here. Not the first thing you imagine when someone says "fruit salad," here sweet cantaloupe is paired with fresh jalapeno, which is tempered a bit by cucumber, mint, and a drizzle of chilled coconut milk. Entirely refreshing and a fine showcase for a good melon, this salad makes a wonderful late-summer side dish or even light breakfast (if you don't mind early-morning heat).

This is a simple one to throw together, but does require a fair amount of chopping, which we embrace as a real joy with a dish like this. Cooking involves all the senses, and chopping a variety of fresh foods provides scents and textures that can be a terrific pick-me-up after a long day. Go slow, soak in the colors and fragrances, but remember to toss on some gloves when handling hot peppers. And, naturally, if you're sensitive to spicy foods, make sure you remove all bits of vein from the jalapeno, and feel free to use a smaller quantity of minced pepper.

Fiery Cantaloupe-Cucumber Salad

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serves 6-8

1 medium cantaloupe, halved and seeded

2 medium cucumbers, peeled, halved lengthwise, and seeded

1 medium jalapeno pepper, halved lengthwise, seeded and de-veined

10 fresh mint leaves, finely chopped (from a couple sprigs, about 1 TBSP chopped)

juice of half a lime (about 1 TBSP)

1/2 cup full-fat canned coconut milk, chilled

pinch salt

Cut each cantaloupe half into quarters, place each chunk on its flat cut end, and carefully cut the rind away. Chop flesh into bite-size dice (about 1 inch) and transfer to a serving bowl.

Chop the cucumber into small dice (about 1/4 inch) and add to the serving bowl. Mince the jalapeno, finely chop the mint, add to the serving bowl, and toss well to combine. The jalapeno will be assertive at this point, but mellows a bit with the addition of dressing.

In a small bowl, stir together lime juice, coconut milk, and salt. It will taste fairly tart, but the lime juice will mellow once diffused through the salad.

Spoon salad into individual dishes, serve with coconut-lime mixture at the table, drizzled on individually, to taste. The salad can be served immediately or held for a couple of hours to allow the flavors to mingle. It keeps, refrigerated in an airtight container, for a day or two.