Classic (Not) Tuna Salad

Happy Vegan MoFo, everybody! I am kicking off this year's month-long celebration of exhaustive blogging by veganizing a childhood favorite. When I was growing up, tuna sandwiches made frequent appearances at lunch-time, and I daresay this was (and probably remains) true for many North American families. Of course, the differences between my mother's version and yours could be many, and my mom's take was pretty old school: lots of celery, a generous amount of mayonnaise, salt, pepper, and maybe a dash of dill or parsley if the mood struck her. This combination, on toasted white bread with potato chips on the side, was ambrosial to my notoriously picky childhood palate, duking it out over a number of years with grilled cheese for the position of favorite sandwich.

These days, I don't eat many sandwiches because there are usually leftovers, or I'm out at lunchtime, but sometimes you just want one. One of my early vegan epiphanies was that cravings for longstanding comfort foods can generally be satisfied with a little thought. If we just take a step back and think about what we liked so much about a given food,  it usually the now "off limits" elements, but rather a combination of textures, aromas, and flavorings. Once I realized this, a nearly limitless horizon of veganization opened before me: "creamy" textures can be recreated without dairy, "eggy" ones without eggs, smoky flavors can hit that sweet spot where "bacon" used to be, and the humble chickpea can recreate a tuna salad sandwich.

Of course, there's no shortage of chickpea salad recipes out there, so it's hardly rocket science; this just happens to be the way we like it. This is also one of those relatively infrequent times when I'm going to recommend a processed, packaged foodstuff because I can't be bothered to make my own vegan mayonnaise, and there are several really good ones out there now. That said, if you have a favorite recipe, by all means go for it and whip some up! Now let's make some sandwiches.

Classic (Not) Tuna Salad
Ingredients
~ 1 15 oz. can chickpeas, drained
~ 2 ribs celery, finely minced
~ 1 small carrot, grated
~ ½-¾  cup vegan mayonnaise; more or less to taste
~ 1 tsp. prepared mustard
~ 2 tbsp. chopped dill pickle or prepared relish such as (Heinz)
~ 1 tsp. each: salt, dill, parsley, paprika

~ Fresh black pepper to taste
~ 1 tsp. crumbled, dried seaweed (f you want a somewhat "fishy taste; I usually can't be arsed)
~ Dash of hot sauce ( I like Frank's)

Directions
~ Place the drained chickpeas in a largeish bowl. With a potato masher, mash them until they are crushed but not totally pulpy; you want some texture, but nothing that screams "Oi, I'm a chickpea!"
~ Add the celery, carrot, mayo, mustard, chopped pickle/relish, and spices. Stir to combine thoroughly, and taste for seasoning and texture.
~ Cover and chill for a few hours to allow the flavors to blend. Serve in a sandwich on some good toasted bread, maybe with some lettuce and a slice of tomato; potato chips are de rigueur.

Autumnal Tofu Sweet Potato Curry

Today is the first day of fall, and it dawned coolish and gloomy. A bit of cloudiness is actually kind of nice after several days of warm weather, and it suits today's post, which features sweet potatoes, one my favorite autumn foods. I threw this together this past Sunday, after I'd been reading all day (which seems to happen a lot lately), and was at that point of zero ambition where popcorn seems like a perfectly balanced meal (ditto). On the other hand, it was one of those September evenings when there's just enough of a snap in the air to make you want something warm, comforting, and a little spicy that will make the kitchen smell nice.

In the end, I took the high road and decided to Actually Cook, but I had limited supplies and didn't feel like going to the store, which meant a menu determined by what was already in the house. A cursory inventory revealed tofu, two sweet potatoes, a bell pepper, some coconut milk, a jar of chili paste, and everyone's favorite ingredient: peanut butter! These struck me as the makings of a curry, and so they proved to be, with the added bonus of a bunch of leftovers, effectively keeping that whole popcorn idea at bay for a few days. (Please bear in mind that the whole point of this exercise is using what's already in the kitchen: pretty much any vegetables will work in something like this, and it's always fun to experiment with what's available.)

Autumnal Tofu Sweet Potato Curry
Ingredients
~ 1 tbsp. canola oil
~ 1 tsp. hot chili oil (optional, or you can use a shot of hot sauce if you don't have any)
~ 1 large onion, chopped
~ 2 tbsp. garlic, minced
~ 1 tbsp. ginger, grated
~ 1 tsp. Thai red chili paste
~ 1 tbsp. soy sauce
~ 1 tbsp. dried basil
~ 1 tsp. each: chana masala, curry powder, chili powder
~ 1/2 tsp. cinnamon
~ 1/4 tsp. nutmeg
~ 2 sweet potatoes, peeled and cubed
~ 1 bell pepper, sliced
~ 1/2 cup vegetable broth
~ 10 oz. mushrooms, sliced
~ 1 lb. extra firm tofu, pressed and cubed
~ 3 cups lite coconut milk
~ 1/3-1/2 cup smooth peanut butter
~ 1 tbsp. cornstarch
~ 5 scallions, thinly sliced

Directions
~ In a large, deep pan or wok, heat the oil and saute the onion and garlic over medium heat for about 3 minutes.
~ Add the grated ginger, soy sauce and other seasonings; stir to combine thoroughly and cook another minute.
~ Add the cubed sweet potatoes, bell pepper and the broth; turn heat to low, cover the pan and cook about 10 minutes.
~ Raising the heat to high, add the mushrooms, tofu and 2 cups of the coconut milk. Bring to a boil, then lower the heat again, replace the cover, and cook another 10-15 minutes.
~ In a cup or beaker, mix the remaining cup of coconut milk with the cornstarch until smooth.
~ Add the scallions, peanut butter and cornstarch mixture to the curry and raise heat to medium. Combine thoroughly, and continue cooking another 5-10 minutes or so, stirring constantly, until the sauce has thickened. (If you happen to have some chopped, fresh basil--which I didn't--this would be the time to sprinkle it on.)
~ Remove from heat and serve over steamed rice (short grain brown is my personal favorite).

Lentil, Leek and Barley Soup

Isn't soup wonderful? On a damp, cold, rainy September Saturday that whispers ever-so-faintly of the wintry onslaught to come, few things can wrap you in a sense of safety and comfort better than a loaf of fresh bread and a big pot of hot soup. This past weekend was characterized by reading, reading, reading, and more reading; school is back in session, and it's time to reject the grasshopper as a role model and re-embrace that tedious ant. When there's less time and inclination for cooking, the hungries can appear at inconvenient moments, and this is when soup solidifies its title as "Best of All Possible Foods." Just make a huge batch on the weekend, and you can feed off it for days.

Today's offering is a pretty classic "use whatever's already in the house" recipe, and in such situations  lentils are an absolute godsend because they are versatile and packed with protein. I happened to have leeks on hand, but you could easily substitute onions; for that matter you could use pretty much any vegetables you like, because another of soup's many virtues is its endless adaptability.

So get your homework done and then head into the kitchen, put on some music, fire up the old cauldron, and make this soup; your day will look a lot brighter, even with 4pm sunsets on the horizon.

Lentil, Leek and Barley Soup
Ingredients
~ 2 tbsp. extra virgin olive oil
~ 1/2 cup diced celery (one rib)
~ 3/4 cup diced carrots (about one big one)
~ 4 cups chopped leeks, thoroughly washed (two good sized leeks)
~ 1.5 tsp. kosher salt
~ 1 tsp. each: thyme, dill, rosemary, parsley
~ 2 bay leaves, whole or (my preference, but whatever) crumbled
~ A few healthy grinds of black pepper
~ 1/2 cup cheap-ass white jug wine (well, that's what we had; go ahead and use something nicer if you like)
~ 1 cup green lentils, picked over and rinsed
~ 1/2 cup pearl barley
~ 8 cups vegetable stock
~ 4 cups chopped spinach leaves
~ 1 tsp. chipotle chili powder or a good shot of hot sauce (optional, but highly recommended)

Directions
~ In a large, heavy-bottomed pot, heat the olive oil and saute the celery over medium heat about 2 minutes.
~ Add the carrots, leeks and dry seasonings; stir to combine and cook another 5 minutes or so, until the vegetables are juust threatening to stick to the pan.
~ Raise the heat to high, deglaze the pan with the 1/2 cup white wine, then add the lentils and barley. Stir until everything is coated.
~ Add the vegetable broth, cover and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to low and simmer about 30 minutes, stirring occasionally to prevent sticking.
~ Add the chopped spinach and chipotle powder or hot sauce (if using). Cover and simmer another 15 minutes, until the lentils and barley are soft but not falling apart.
~ Remove from heat and serve with some good, crusty bread.

The Brunch of Champions

Okay, enough musing and introspection, let's get back to talking about food! By this point in our species' ongoing development, everyone knows that brunch is the World's Most Civilized Meal, right? And that Isa Chandra Moskowitz's Vegan Brunch has made an important contribution to the acknowledgement of this universal truth. I've been cooking up a storm from this thing ever since it came out last spring, but one of the recipes it's taken awhile to tackle is the tofu omelet, because I was waiting to get my hands on some black salt, which every foodie I know has been raving about for the last year or so. Finally, while browsing in Williams-Sonoma about a month ago, I was seduced by a rather silly variety pack of fancy-ass gourmet salts, including the fabled black stuff (hey, my shoes cost $6.99 at Urban Outfitters, okay?).

Of course, the weather then turned too hot and humid to even think about entering the kitchen for anything but ice cubes, so there my indulgent purchase sat, waiting for me to bestir myself and discover its wonders. Finally, courtesy of Tropical Storm Danny ("Danny?" Are they serious?), we got a cool, wet weekend, and after a much-needed Saturday morning lie-in, I decided to give the omelets a try. And I have to say that they did not disappoint. Not only were they delicious, but beautiful, which isn't well represented by my crummy photo, alas. But trust me: they looked for all the world like the "real" thing, but refreshingly free of avian menstrual matter (sorry, omnivores!). As with the Fronch Toast from Vegan with a Vengeance, I think the secret lies in the chick-pea flour: an amazing substance with a texture somewhere between flour and corn starch that lends a unique and fascinating je ne sais quoi to any recipe that calls for it.

The black salt is undeniably interesting, and it does have a distinct taste, although not one I'd necessarily characterize as sulphurous or "eggy," which is fine by me. Sprinkling a little extra over the top of the finished product was a nice touch, but you really don't need to spend major $$$ on crazy gourmet salt to make this recipe; just get in there and do it. The good news is that it's quite easy, but one caveat I would offer is to follow the directions closely in terms of the amount of batter used for each omelet; more than 1/2 cup and they may spread out too much and be difficult to flip. I actually opted for the more traditional (in my family, anyway) approach of putting the filling on one side of the almost-cooked omelet and folding it over before transferring to a warm oven while I made the others, rather than stacking them and folding them over the filling afterwards. I filled my omelets with caramelized onions, and served them with roasted potatoes, steamed asparagus and Hollandaise sauce, which kept us full until well after dark. Next time, my cunning plan is to veganize the western omelets my Dad used to make when I was little; I'll report back on how that goes!

Tofu Omelets (slightly adapted from Vegan Brunch)

1. Prepare your filling. I used caramelized onions and garlic this time, but you can use pretty much any combination of sauteed veggies, vegan cheese and/or fake meat you like, just as you would with the egg-based variety. Just be careful not to overfill; about 1/3-1/2 cup is plenty!

2. Make the omelets!

Ingredients
~ 1 tbsp. minced garlic
~ 1 lb. firm silken tofu, drained (I followed Isa's suggestion and used Nasoya)
~ 2 tbsp. nutritional yeast
~ 2 tbsp. olive oil
~ 1/2 tsp. turmeric
~ 1/2 tsp. paprika
~ 1 tsp. black salt (or plain kosher)
~ A few grinds of black pepper
~ 1/2 cup chickpea flour
~ 1 tbsp. cornstarch

Directions
~ Lightly oil a non-stick baking sheet and place in a preheated 200 degree oven.
~ In a food processor, combine the garlic, tofu, nutritional yeast, olive oil and seasonings. Puree until smooth.
~ Add the chickpea flour and cornstarch and process again until thoroughly combined; it should be like a thick pancake batter.
~ Preheat a large, heavy skillet over medium heat; coat lightly with cooking spray or a thin layer of oil.
~ In 1/2 cup increments (seriously, don't use more than this!), ladle the batter into the hot skillet and gently spread out into a circle about 6" across with a rubber spatula.
~ Cook for about 3-5 minutes, then spoon about 1/-1/2 cup of your filling across one side of the circle.
~ Very carefully, use a rubber spatula or soft lifter to fold the empty side over the filled one, making a crescent shape. Cook another minute or two before transferring the finished omelet to the oven to keep warm.
~ Repeat the process until all the batter--and as much filling as needed--is used up. (I got 5 omelets from this recipe)
~ Serve with whatever brunchy sides make you happiest. We had ours with roasted potatoes (http://elizaveganpage.blogspot.com/2008/10/vegan-mofo-28-roasted-potatoes.html), steamed asparagus and the easiest Hollandaise sauce in the history of the world, the recipe for which I herewith append:

World's Easiest (read: laziest) Hollandaise Sauce

Ingredients
~ 1 tbsp. Earth Balance or other vegan margarine
~ 2 tbsp. nutritional yeast
~ 1 cup unsweetened soy milk, heated to almost boiling (microwave for a minute in a Pyrex beaker)
~ 1/2 cup cold soy milk, mixed with 1 tbsp. corn starch
~ 1/2 tsp. each: salt, dried tarragon, turmeric, dried mustard
~ Juice of one lemon

Directions:
~ Over low heat, melt the Earth Balance in a saucepan. Add the nutritional yeast and stir with a wooden spoon to make a roux, adding about 1/2 cup of the soy milk gradually, to keep it from getting too thick.
~ Add the seasonings and remaining soy milk, stirring constantly.
~ Raise the heat to medium and cook for about 2-3 minutes, then add the lemon juice.
~ Stir in the soy milk/cornstarch mixture and combine thoroughly. Bring to almost boiling, and continue cooking another few minutes, until the sauce thickens and coats the spoon.
~ Remove from heat and spoon over your steamed asparagus, your tofu omelet, your roasted potatoes, and whatever else you would like to cover in sunshiny yellow goodness.

Bon appetit! (and if you eat all that, you have my permission to take a nice, long nap!)

Off with the old, on with the new roof!

Today's is a rare, non-food-related post (although there is a passing reference to blueberry pancakes). This is partly because it's been extremely hot and humid, my kids are heading back to school, a busy new semester looms on the horizon, and I've had little time or energy for cooking. I'm hoping that when - if? - the weather cools off, I'll be newly inspired, but right now, not so much.

More to the point, a half dozen shirtless men are crawling all over my house as I type this, banging and pounding and generally making a hellish racket as they remove three layers of shingles from the roof, the bottom one dating back to the 1930s. Outside is a hideous, chaotic mess: two entrances are impassable due to tarps, ladders, and piles of ancient asphalt, and the yard is a disaster area. Inside, it's really noisy, and our animal friends are more than a little freaked out; thus far, we've been keeping them sequestered with us in one of the quieter rooms, which seems to help a bit.

These are the times that try the humble homeowner's soul, and make one question (not for the first time) the quixotic myopia that led them to purchase a circa 1895 timber frame house boasting no insulation, 60 amp fuse service, a kitchen in need of a total overhaul, and a roof that was already peeling the day we laid eyes on it. From the initial home inspection - two months before the birth of my youngest son - it was a given that this job would have to be done (someday), but there were always other things to do first and/or instead. In the event, we managed to delay the inevitable much longer than expected, and only the merest trickle of water during a torrential downpour eventually forced the issue.

But the fact remains that this sort of project is absolutely no fun. For one thing, it's ruinously expensive. For another, on a house like this it's basically an archaeological dig in the sky: on Day Two, we've already learned of rotten wood that needs to be replaced, jacking up the price still further. For yet another, it's loud, messy, and inconvenient. Okay, that's three "others," but you take my point. Yes, it's necessary, and in the end we'll have a nice new roof, which will be a vast improvement on a state of aesthetic affairs that suggests Boo Radley might be taking his ease on our porch. BUT. Aside from keeping the rain and snow off us and placating the neighbors so they don't show up some dark midnight brandishing pitchforks, torches, and shingles, there's not much to recommend the experience.

The truth of the matter is it's stressful to have people literally taking the roof from over your head and wantonly tossing sections of your home onto the ground below. Maybe it has something to do with another summer ending and another school year beginning, maybe it's that my mother has been ill (a guaranteed threat to one's sense of security), or maybe it's just my hormones, but for some reason this particular bout of domestic disruption has me feeling emotional.

This has been my home for longer than anywhere except the house where I grew up: it's been the scene of so many significant episodes, occasions, and changes for my family, good, bad, and ugly alike. I've raised three children (well, I'm still at it), decorated many Christmas trees, and hosted innumerable holidays, parties, and events joyful and somber. Sure, I shake my fist at it for being a drafty old barn - as George Bailey so eloquently put it in It's A Wonderful Life, "It's a wonder we don't all have pneumonia!" - but it's my drafty old barn, and I love it. It's hard to conjure an image of any other house that could mean "home" in quite the same way.

So. Despite our occasional disagreements and misunderstandings (what is up with that draft under the front door?), I hope the old pile will forgive the indignities it's currently suffering, and realize how very much it is loved and cared for, once this latest installment of its ongoing makeover is complete. "Be it ever so humble," etc.

(Please note that the illustration above is from Old Black Witch, one of my favourite books as a child. It concerns a single mother and her small son, who buy a ramshackle old New England house - sound familiar? - intending to turn it into a tearoom. Unfortunately, the resident witch of the title isn't on board with the proposed renovations: again, not unlike my own feelings and those of my animal familiars this week. Suffice to say it all works out in the end, and there's even a recipe for Bewitching Blueberry Pancakes that I used to make with my own children, complete with batter-stirring spell : "Gobbledy gook with a wooden spoon; the laugh of a toad at the height of the moon." I include this particular picture because our house actually resembles the one in the book, with its lattice windows, multiple gables, and tall chimneys. I've never yet taken my broomstick and flown out the attic window, but I might have a go once the roofers are finished and the coast is clear!)

Mushroom Quiches

At this time of year, I often find myself with a refrigerator that looks like Mother Nature has finally taken leave of her senses, unleashing her plenteous bounty in almost menacing fashion. Between farmer's markets, the generosity of gardening friends, and the beautiful summer produce available in any supermarket, I can get a bit over-excited, and wind up surrounded by enough fruit and vegetables to feed a small village.

Some things (squash, beans, leafy greens) will keep in the fridge, but others, like fresh shiitake mushrooms, really need to be cooked ASAP. And so it was that on a Sunday night when nobody was very hungry but there wasn't much going on, I headed into the kitchen and made these quiches. NB you could sub pretty much whatever veggies you like for the mushrooms: sauteed broccoli or asparagus, roasted peppers, caramelized onions, etc., or any combination of these would work beautifully. (Now to figure out what to do with all the other stuff.)

Mushroom Quiches (makes two)
The Filling
Ingredients
~ 1 tbsp. olive oil
~ 2 tbsp. minced garlic
~ About 10 cups thinly sliced brown mushrooms (they cook down!)
~ 1 tsp. each: salt, marjoram
~ ½ tsp. each: tarragon, white pepper
~ Fresh black pepper
~ 1 cup raw cashews, soaked for at least an hour
~ 1 lb. extra firm tofu, drained and crumbled
~ 2 tbsp. nutritional yeast.
~ 1 tsp. salt (black salt is nice if you can get it)
~ 1/4 tsp. nutmeg
~ Paprika for garnish
~ Pastry for two single-crust pies, homemade or store-bought

Directions:
~ Preheat the oven to 375 degrees fahrenheit.
~ In a large skillet or wok, heat the oil and saute the mushrooms (adding in batches) over medium-high heat for 10-15 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the liquid has cooked off and they smell all 'shroomy. Add the minced garlic and dry seasonings, and cook about another minute.
~ Remove from heat and set aside to cool.
~ In a food processor, combine the cashews, tofu, salt, nutmeg, and nutritional yeast. Process until smooth, adding up to a cup of the cooked mushrooms. (You can also add a splash of water if it seems too thick, but remember you want it to slice after it's cooked.)
~ In a large mixing bowl, combine the mixture from the food processor and the remaining cooked mushrooms. Stir thoroughly and divide equally between two prepared 9" pie crusts, homemade or store bought (I used frozen).
~ Smooth the tops with a rubber spatula, then sprinkle with a little paprika.
~ Bake for 40-50 minutes at 375 degrees, until a butter knife inserted in the center comes out clean.
Check occasionally to make sure the crust doesn't burn; if it looks like it's browning to quickly you can cover the pies (loosely) with aluminum foil.
~ Remove the cooked quiches from the oven and allow to cool for 10-15 minutes before slicing.

Classic Corn Chowder

Right around this time last year, I posted a corn and zucchini bisque recipe that's a tasty way to use up some of Mother Nature's overly generous August bounty. My partner and middle son recently voiced their desire for a more traditional chowder, and now that corn season has finally, officially arrived here in central Massachusetts, I was happy to oblige. (Particularly since we had about 8 huge ears left over from a gluttonous Saturday night feast that also included vegan Glamorgan sausages, onion gravy, and a huge pan of baked mashed potatoes and greens. OOOF!)

Using the Fannie Farmer Cookbook recipe as a prototype, I substituted soy milk for moo juice, added some herbs to an otherwise pretty boring recipe, and - since my mom always started any chowder with a few strips of bacon - I also tossed in smoked paprika. The result was entirely satisfying, came together easily, and was remarkably filling without being heavy. Add some cold white wine, a green salad, and crusty bread for a perfect late summer meal.

Classic Corn Chowder
Ingredients:
~ 1 tbsp. each: olive oil, vegan butter (I use Earth Balance)
~ 1 large yellow onion, chopped
~ 1 large stalk celery, diced
~ 3-4 mid-size potatoes, diced
~ 6 cups sweet corn kernels, fresh or frozen
~ 1 tsp. each:  smoked paprika, marjoram, parsley
~ 1/2 tsp. each: salt, thyme, sage
~ ¼ tsp. cayenne (more or less to taste)
~ A few generous grinds of fresh black pepper
~ 4 cups "no chicken" broth
~ 2-3 cups plain, unsweetened soy milk, depending on how thick you like your chowder
~ Fresh parsley, for garnish

Directions:
~ In a large, heavy pot, heat the oil and butter over medium heat. Add the onion and celery; saute about 5-7 minutes, until softened but not brown.
~ Add the potatoes, corn kernels, and dried seasonings. Stir to combine and cook another 10 minutes, adding a splash of water if necessary to prevent sticking.
~ Add the broth to the pot,  stir, and raise the heat to high. Bring briefly to a boil and then lower to simmer; cook, stirring occasionally, for 20-25 minutes.
~ Remove from heat, add the soy milk, and partially puree the soup with an immersion blender (you don't want it completely smooth like bisque, it should still have some texture). If it seems too thick you can add a little extra water.
~ Taste for seasoning and heat through; sprinkle with a little chopped parsley and serve.