Irish Coddle

They don't really get top billing as far as food-focused holidays go, but two of my favorites are St. Patrick's Day and Passover. I'm neither Jewish nor particularly Irish, but I enjoy having an excuse to dabble in flavors, methods, and seasonings that don't generally make it into my dinner repertoire. In past years, C and I have gone all out with briskets, rugelach, and colcannon. This year, contemplating a late St. Paddy's day repast of even more of that delectable potatoes and greens mash, I opted instead for Coddle. The Irish--or maybe broadly Northern European--way of boiling meats with potatoes and various cruciferous vegetables kind of captures my imagination. Another dish that has long been on my list of things to try, for example, is called Bubble and Squeak. I saw a recipe some years ago that looked very veganizable indeed, but then promptly lost track of it. The following stew is a one-dish answer to the culinary injunction of St. Patrick's Day. Here you have starch, protein, and vegetables boiled together in a simple and tasty dish. I should also mention that this Coddle is my version of the one posted by the fantastic Susan V from fatfreevegan.com. Check hers out here, and see mine below:

Coddle (Kinda)

1 pkg vegan sausage, sliced (I used Tofurky beer brats because I was having a lazy day like that and those nice people at Turtle Mountain are just so darned reliably delicious. On a more ambitious day, I might make my own.)
1 medium onion, diced
1 small head green cabbage, sliced
1 1/2 lbs yukon potatoes, cut into large cubes
2 T dried dill
2 1/2 c water
2 veggie broth cubes
1 t liquid smoke
horseradish and vegan bacon bits for garnish

Dissolve the broth cubes in 2 cups hot water. Set aside. Fry sausage in a bit of olive oil until nicely browned. Meanwhile, saute onion in a pot or large saucepan. When onion is translucent, add potatoes and dill and stir briefly. Deglaze sausage pan with a 1/4 c water to remove any bits that are sticking to the pan, and transfer the contents to the larger pot. Top the sausage with the cabbage. Add liquid smoke to the prepared veggie broth and pour the liquid over the cabbage. Cover but don't stir. Simmer for 15 minutes, then check the potatoes for tenderness. When they are cooked as much as you'd like, serve in big bowls topped with vegan bacon bits and a dollop of horseradish. You won't be sorry.

Quiche 2.0--Tempeh Bacon and Olive

 

I honestly thought I had the whole vegan quiche thing on lock-down, dear readers. I had it "dialed in," as my sister would say. Then, as with the universal tendency of everything to move from a state of order into one of disorder, my grip on quiche has loosened over time, slackened, weakened, entropificationed. The only thing to do in this situation is to take another run. Though sometimes, "another run," might mean returning to the drawing  board and starting from scratch--ditching your firm tofu for cashews and the like, it can also refer to a subtle but substantial tweaking: a little less of this and a little more of that, a pinch of something completely new.

Crust before baking.

I made this quiche, which as you recall I enjoy pronouncing as "quitch," because my sweet and smart niece used to say it that way, for a small dinner gathering at our friend Diana's house. She made a slamming apple-pear crisp and some brussels sprouts with squash, and our friend Joelle brought a lovely greens saute. C and I were charged with bringing the proteiny component of the meal. To be honest, most of our show-stopping repertoire that we tend to whip out for feeding (especially) omnis has something to do with seitan because, as we all know, gluten makes the best meat analogs. With tofu, I tend to get lazy. Pretty much I bake it, scramble it, blend it, and press it into quiches, and that's about it. Well, and put it in soup. And make stew out of it. Use it as an egg replacer. But you can see where I'm headed with this. I feel like most of those are pretty homey things and not the sorts of dishes I would take to someone's house for dinner. A quiche, on the other hand, is a nice, self-contained kind of unit. It heats up beautifully and is tasty with all kinds of fillings. While I tend to lean toward a sausage and mushroom filling, Diana's disinclination toward mushrooms and trouble with wheat pushed me toward thinking about other fillings: tempeh bacon and olive. These fillings along with this subtly different strategy toward flavoring the quiche really takes this dish to another level. Even if you're a fan of the earlier quiche recipe, I recommend springing for some black salt--yes, it's expensive--and trying it this way.

Crust:

2 c whole spelt flour
1/2 t salt
1/2 c canola oil
1/2 c apple juice

Mix together and press evenly into a pie pan. Prick the bottom and sides and bake at 400 for 10 minutes.

Tempeh bacon, fried and cooling a bit.

Filling:

Tempeh Bacon--you could buy the packaged tempeh bacon, but I made my own. I used the simplified bacon recipe in Vegan Brunch, which really is one of the best vegan cookbooks on the market.There are loads of vegan tempeh bacon recipes on the internet, though, and I feel confident that any of them would be tasty. While worshipping at Isa's feet is a perfectly good place for me, I know other cooks have their own idols.


1/2 c sliced black olives
1 pound extra firm tofu
1/2-3/4 c unsweetened soy milk
1 t black salt
1 T turmeric
1/2 t salt
1 c cheddar Daiya

In a large bowl, mash the tofu thoroughly. I use my hands. Then mix in the soymilk, turmeric, and salts until the desired color and flavor are reached. Don't over-salt because the olives and the bacon will contribute much in that regard. Crumble bacon into large pieces and mix into tofu along with olives. Press the whole mess into the pre-baked crust. Spread a healthy layer of cheddar Daiya on top and bake in a 350 oven for 45 minutes. Plan to let your quiche hang for a few minutes (10-15) for best presentation. 

Daring Bakers February Challenge

As I believe I've mentioned before, the thing I really enjoy about being a Daring Baker is the opportunity to make things that it really never would have occurred to me to try. This month is certainly no different. On the whole, the genre of "soft desserts" has largely eluded me. I like pudding as much as the next girl, but it isn't something that I think of making. Maybe it's because my mom used to make it for me as a treat when I was a kid. She would always make the Jell-O brand pudding that comes in the little cardboard box. I'm guessing it's mostly powdered milk, artificial flavors, and cornstarch, but I really loved it. In fact, if I may be forgiven a bit of compromising disclosure here, I think I have a story that illustrates in gritty, shameful detail just how much I loved pudding as a kid (or just how much of a blossoming fatty I was even then):

When my sister and I were little, like maybe first grade and kindergarten or thereabouts, she had a nasty flu. It wasn't anything more serious than the usual virus that kids are always picking up from each other--grimy little carrier monkeys that they are. My poor working mother in these cases always did her best to avoid cross-contamination, so that she wouldn't have two sick kids on her hands. Unfortunately for her, she has also made vanilla pudding for dessert on the night when my sister started really feeling poorly. Beth only made it through about half of her pudding before leaving the table. I don't remember exactly if she was feverish or pukey or what, but she was quite sickly. I ate my pudding and was soundly warned by my mother to stay away from my sister's pudding, which she promptly covered in plastic wrap and stored in the fridge, no doubt anticipating that my sister would be wanting some soft foods the following day. As soon as nobody was looking, though, I tucked in and helped myself to several spoonfuls. Of course, shortly thereafter I got sick, and I remember feeling only a little guilty for having brought the illness on myself by virtue of my gluttony. God help me, I could not stay away from that pudding. I think it was butterscotch.

As an adult, I suppose I still have a vestigial prejudice about pudding. I think the only real pudding comes in those little cardboard packages and my mom makes it for me. I'm sure those packages aren't vegan, and I can't remember the last time my mom made me pudding, but the prejudice remains. I didn't claim it was rational. Other than pudding, I did try my hand--successfully, I might add--at creme brulee before going vegan, and I've taken a few--largely unsuccessful--runs at ice cream. This is where the DB challenge comes in. I had never even thought to make panna cotta. Panna cotta is similar to creme brulee except it is traditionally coagulated with gelatin instead of eggs and/or cornstarch. Both are rich in fat. The obvious vegetarian substitution is agar, and I weighed a number of different recipes before deciding on one that used a mixture of soy creamer and soy yogurt. The result? Eh. I thought the panna cotta tasted like yogurt, and the proportions of agar to liquid were definitely off. Panna cotta is supposed to hold its shape, but be soft on the spoon. My panna cotta was like strained yogurt. If I had it to do over again, which given my above ambivalence for soft desserts I am unlikely to do, I would do something coconut based with vanilla beans and way more agar. The second aspect of the challenge was florentine cookies, which are delicious to dip into panna cotta, even an unsuccessful variety like mine. I messed these up by making the cookies too big, which didn't allow them to spread enough to be the thin and crispy sandwiches they should have been. As a happy accident, though, I had to substitute cinnamon sugar for half the sugar required by the recipe because I was out of the plain stuff. The mixture had been kicking around since I made Christmas cookies for my family. The cinnamon really kicked the flavor of these rich, oaty cookies up another level and made them something special. I'll welcome an opportunity to try these again, only thinner and crispier.

Sicky Stew

I made this soup for C when he was suffering from one of the many viruses that run rampant every winter. As an educator, he is particularly prone, and his last bout with the flu was particularly long and unpleasant. I've been meaning to take his immune system aside and have a little heart to heart with it because it doesn't quite seem to have the right idea about how viruses should manifest. I am almost never sick for more than three days, and I pretty much always experience sickness in the same general pattern. Day one: headache, chills, aches, swollen glands. Day two: sinus congestion, sneezing, watery eyes. Day three: runny nose and cough. C, on the other hand, experiences these symptoms randomly, in no particular order, and they frequently last for days and days at a time with no sign of abatement. Or worse, yet, and this is what happened with the last, pernicious virus, the symptoms will dramatically decrease or even vanish for several days only to emerge again more violently than before. It's just wrong, dear reader. Just wrong. If you find yourself caring for the similarly afflicted, or you just want an easy, rocking, and protein-rich stew, try this one.

This stew was a hit with C, and like all soup, tends to improve with age. It really is a basic miso soup with the garlic and ginger bumped up to fight off the bugs and a healthy amount of tofu to make it heartier. The result is rich and thicker than you might assume. I love adding kale to soups, so the next time I make this I might add some shredded lacinato in place of the wakame. As with all miso soups, though, remember not to bring it to a boil to preserve the probiotic qualities of the miso.

Miso Tofu Stew

2 T olive oil
6 cloves garlic, minced (or more or less depending on level of sickness and tolerance for garlic)
1 2" piece of ginger, peeled and minced
1 package extra firm tofu (water-packed)
dried wakame--I used about half of a 1.76 oz package
3 c water
miso--I used sweet white miso, but I think chickpea would also be great.

Saute garlic and ginger in the oil until fragrant. Stir in tofu and add water. Bring to a low boil, then reduce heat. When the water is very hot but no longer boiling, stir in about 2 T miso and dissolve. Let the soup cook for about ten minutes, not boiling. The tofu will soak up some of the broth. Check the flavor. Add a bit more miso if want it stronger, a bit more water if you find it too strong. When all the miso is dissolved, and you're satisfied with the flavor, stir in the dried wakame. Cook five minutes more.

Chocolate Coffee Crunch Cake

As part of my long-standing family tradition, I honor all requests for birthday cakes to the letter. When I was growing up, my mom would make every member of my nuclear family (there weren't all that many of us) whatever kind of cake we wanted...from scratch. The scratch part is important because the rest of the year it was all cake mixes and pre-packaged sorts of deals. I don't mean to talk smack about the whole pre-fabricated cake phenomenon. Now that I'm all grown up and just a bit handy in the kitchen, it strikes me that those boxes really save very little work. Like I told my sister a while ago, if you have flour, sugar, oil, baking soda/powder, water, and vanilla, you have a cake. Obviously some cakes are more complicated, but the basic principle holds. I suppose the mixes save a bit of time and measuring, but that's about it. I tend to prefer the greater flexibility and options involved with the little extra effort of baking from scratch, especially since basic recipes--like the one I made for C's birthday this year--are so completely simple. Though I may be personally leaning toward pie (in the epic struggle between pie and cake), birthday cakes are really one of my absolutely favorite things to bake. 

This cake, which we tentatively dubbed the Chocolate Coffee Crunch Cake, was dreamed up by a pair of vegan piggies as we engaged in a bit of brainstorming to come up with the perfect idea for a cake to celebrate his 32nd birthday. The chocolate was kind of inevitable. What IS IT  with people and chocolate cake? I am positively giddy on the rare occasions when people request Cherry Cake (like my sister) and Strawberry Cake (like our friend Lizz). I doubled the recipe for basic chocolate cake from VCTOtW and flavored the basic buttercream recipe with coffee extract. This cake really hinged, though, on the toffee. Though I have long gazed fondly from the sidelines, I haven't ventured much into the field of candy-making. This was the first recipe I've ever made where I didn't feel comfortable shrugging off the direction to heat to some specific temperature. Candy making seems to be all about precision, so I gleefully selected a candy thermometer and set to work. Thanks to the pioneering work and self-sacrifice of The Vegan Table, toffee is a confectionery delight that is well within an enterprising vegan's reach. That deceptively simple recipe, and the whole fabulous blog, can be found here.

Souley Vegan Wants to Kill Me

And I'm really not complaining. I can think of many many ways to die that would be worse than asphyxiating under a pile of southern fried tofu and potato salad. So can you, I imagine. These photos are from our second trip to this haven of greasy fried goodness in its unassuming Oakland location. I always worry when I visit a great restaurant for the second time that my good experience won't be replicated. In this instance, I particularly had some niggling--and totally unwarranted, as it turns out--doubts about my memory of what I had been proclaiming near and far to be the best potato salad in the world.

Barbecued tofu with potato salad

Southern fried tofu, collards, and potato salad

Southern fried tofu, biscuit and gravy, potato salad, peas.

Souley Vegan treats customers to a very laid back atmosphere. You walk in, order your food from the very nice lady at the front counter, pay, and then wait for your food to brought to you. The inside of the place is sunny and clean, and food is ordered by the item. Basically, you can get one item for $6 and pay $2 for each additional item. If you're an unapologetic newbie and want to try a little of everything, you can get a heaping sampler platter of just about every dish for $19 to which you can add red beans and rice and pile of fried okra for an additional $6. We went that way the first time we ate at Souley Vegan, but this time we were much more focused in our attentions. C ordered some okra to split with Matt, and they got it all to themselves because Diana and I don't have much to do with the stuff. Slimy, folks. Slimy. C also ordered the barbecued tofu, which comes smothered in an earthy, darkly sweet sauce. Matt, Diana, and I all opted for the southern fried tofu, a starchy-proteiny offering that the menu describes as better than fried catfish. I love me some fake fish, dear reader, and while this particular tofu isn't doing much in the way of trying to taste fishy, it is delicious. Imagine thick, marinated slabs of tender tofu generously breaded in a delectable, peppery cornmeal crust. The only item that I was not so impressed by was the biscuit and gravy that Matt ordered. The truth about this may well be that I'm a biscuit snob (add it to the list of ways in which my nose is permanently in the air), but I found the texture too cakey for my taste. I think a biscuit should be dense and flaky, and this was like a slightly savory muffin. Tasty, but not biscuity.

 We all got the potato salad, and Matt ordered black-eyed peas while Diana and I both picked the sauteed collards. And have I mentioned how amazing the potato salad is? Because it is. Amazing. Tangy and creamy, but not overly saucy. In general I'm underwhelmed by potato salad, and as I've stated, would generally rather save my carbs for sweets and liquor. This absolutely does not apply to the potato salad at Souley Vegan. It's a damned good thing I don't live in Oakland.

"Meat" Balls

I experiment with faux meat, dear readers, so that you don't have to. I wouldn't go so far as to call my experimenting selfless, but you may do so if you think it's appropriate. I could hardly stop you. As I think you've gleaned over the last year of my bloggage, C and I are not big pasta eaters. Personally, I prefer to save my carb calories for sugar: fermented or otherwise. I'll skip the linguini, but please pass the beer and the truffles! I'll forego the fusilli, but don't withhold the martinis and chocolate mousse. You can see where I'm going with this, right? On occasion, though, I want to eat something that I can twirl up with my fork. Something slathered in a tangy, chunky marinara. Something piled with "meat" balls. Just as I discovered--after going vegan--that the main draw of my once beloved caprese salad was actually the salted fresh tomatoes with basil (and not, in fact, the fresh mozzarella), I more than enjoy a plate of spaghetti and meatballs without the spaghetti (and, obviously, without the meat). I swap the pasta out with the much-maligned spaghetti squash (so easy, so quick, so good for you!), and the meatballs with "meat" balls.

Before experimenting with the recipe I'm including in this post, I had restricted myself out of laziness to the Veganomicon recipe for beanballs. While I still like these and find them both savory and quite palatable, they never really scratched my itch for "meat" balls. Isa and Terry came up with something very special in their now famous chickpea cutlets, but I just don't think the formula extends well to a mock-up of those savory balls of beefy death that people enjoy with their pasta. Though vegandad has a meatball recipe that uses tempeh,and I'm interested in trying it, I've recently had great success in making some adaptations from the recipe in the New Farm Cookbook. Since I picked up an extra big spaghetti squash, we had ample "pasta" for two nights. Each recipe makes 36 balls, but because C and I are such piggies for protein, we pretty much made our way through an entire batch each night. If you feel nauseous thinking about it, you are most certainly not alone. We DID have leftovers, though, so let that mitigate your derision, however slightly. The main reason I made these twice, though, is because I thought the seasoning in the original recipe was wildly insufficient. The second night, we amped it up a bit, and I'm posting the recipe with my changes. These are super fast to make and quite tasty, as all fried things are.

2 c dry tvp
1 cube beef-style broth
1 3/4 c boiling water
1 small onion
3 T olive oil
2 T Braggs
2 T oregano
black pepper
1 t garlic powder
1/2 c whole wheat flour
oil for frying--I used canola

Dissolve broth cube in boiling water. Pour over the tvp and stir briefly. Allow to rest for 10 minutes to rehydrate. Meanwhile, dice and saute the onion in the olive oil. When the onion is translucent, stir in the herbs and garlic, drizzle with Braggs, and cook a few minutes more. Stir onion and flour into soaked tvp. Stir rigorously for a minute or so to develop the gluten. Form into 1 inch balls and fry until brown.

Incidentally, I realize that this post represents a betrayal of my pledge to my squash-hating readers to refrain from posting about two squash dishes in a row. I apologize for this and suggest that you selectively edit to make this post less offensive. Every time you see the word "squash" simply substitute it in your brain with something else, like "sunshine" or "pumpernickel." If it works for the great masterpieces of canonical American fiction, why not my humble food blog?