Your Vegan Mom

Happy Mother's Day Y'all!

Here's a basic vanilla pudding recipe to help you celebrate:

1/4 c. cornstarch
6 Tbsp. raw sugar
pinch of salt

2 Tbsp. firm silken tofu
2 Tbsp. canola oil

2 1/2 c. soy milk

1 tsp. vanilla

Blend together the tofu, oil, and about a quarter cup of the soy milk until smooth. I used an immersion blender in a glass measuring cup. Set aside. In a medium sauce pan, whisk together the cornstarch, sugar, and salt. Gradually whisk in the remaining milk to the corn starch mixture. Stir in the tofu mixture. Heat over medium, stirring frequently. Let boil one minute while continuing to stir. Remove from heat. Add vanilla. Pour into small bowls or cups to chill for at least 2 hours. Makes 4 servings.

Even tough guys like pudding. I've made this now at least 4 times. So I know it works reliably, for me anyway. Poured over sweet ripe bananas in a pre-made graham cracker crust, you've got an incredibly simple and soothing dessert.

Johnny's Pizza House

My mom is in town from L.A. this week. As we debated where to go for my birthday lunch last Friday, she was saying something along the lines of "Straw Hat Pizza and Chuck E. Cheese! Those were the only places we went to when you guys were little." Which is funny because that is exactly the opposite of how I remember it. I'm sure the truth lies somewhere in the middle and our opposing memories are pretty easy to understand when you visit the neighborhood pizza joint as an adult. That place is awful.

As we approached Johnny's Pizza House, a small child was quickly scaling the pole out front, no doubt high on corn syrup and bleached flour. Entering the restaurant, the first thing I noticed was a preteen dressed as some kind of slightly thread-bare giant stuffed animal strutting her stuff and working the tables. Somehow undaunted, I made my way to the counter and placed our order for a medium bell pepper and onion pizza, no cheese. I was impressed, both by the counter guy's nonplussed acceptance of my order and the fact that it actually came without cheese.

The pizza was fine, not bad even. The crust was not too thick, kind of pleasantly puffy with a crisp exterior. The sauce was slightly over seasoned, but not terribly so, a bit on the sweet and pasty side, but not bad. The peppers and onions worked - as my only non-canned vegetable option, they provided a bit of crunchy freshness to contrast with that pillowy dough and sweet sauce.

I certainly wouldn't go out of my way to eat here, but in the company of the sticky-fingered, tends-to-wail set - which I generally am - I could see (shudder) coming back. Desmond was so in awe of all the running around that he mostly just sat and chilled, which was a fabulous novelty. And as I scooped my little dining companion out of the booth and did my best to clean up the smattering of cracker crumbs left behind on the seat, the floor, the table, I realized just how well we fit in here. It seems that, for at least the next decade or so, this is my kind of place.

Thanks for all you've put up with Mom.

The Story of the Magic Beans

Once upon a time there was a bag of beans. They looked like ordinary beans if a little on the small side. Just by looking at them you would never know it, but they were magic.

New to town, and knowing nothing of the special powers of the famed local legumes, a little boy and his mama innocently grabbed them off the shelf of the neighborhood Kroger. They brought them home and cooked them, more or less, according to package directions:

Cover with 10 cups water and a generous drizzle of olive oil. Simmer about one hour. Saute 1 minced onion and 1 clove garlic in a teaspoon of butter. Add to the bean pot along with a pinch of thyme, a bay leaf, salt and pepper. Gently simmer for about half an hour or until the beans are soft and flavorful.

That very night they ate those magic beans with sauteed spinach over rice. The next day they ate the beans again. This time the mama just threw some shredded kale and cubes of smoked tofu right into the pot. Again, with a bit of rice and a shake of hot sauce, they had a delicious meal. You might think the story ends here, but we couldn't rightly call those beans magic if that were so.

When the family woke up the next day, there were still beans in the pot. Maybe even more beans than the day before. The family sure liked those beans, but they were ready for a change. Thinking quickly, the papa grabbed a fork and smashed them up. Good thing too. If it weren't for his quick thinking and agile bean smashing that pot would have lasted until the wee babe was a grown man himself with children of his own to tend to. The papa added some vital wheat gluten and nutritional yeast and cajun seasoning and turned those beans into seitan cutlets!

Along with mashed potatoes and gravy, those southern bean cutlets made a hearty meal.

The next day was bright and sunny and the family decided to go on a picnic. Dressed as cutlets, the beans came too. With apple-pecan coleslaw and a view of Caddo Lake, the family gobbled up that seitan.

But there were still some left! The next day, while the baby was sleeping, the mama was h-u-n-g-r-y. She sliced a cutlet thin, simmered it with barbecue sauce, heaped some left over coleslaw on a bun and enjoyed an excellent sandwich all by herself.

And wouldn't you know? That wasn't the end of those beans. They turned up the next night in cutlets again coated with a sweet hot sauce glaze. Before they skipped town for good, they made one last appearance as strips of buffalo seitan on a bed of mixed greens drizzled with buttermilk ranch.

Now I can't be certain where or when those beans will turn up again, but I can say that that happy bean eatin' family lived happily ever after.

The End

God Bless America

I've found local produce.

Marvin's Gardens
7735 E Kings Hwy
Shreveport, LA 71115
(318) 797-7245

Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding

We have a winner! Pulled at random, Alice's fond description of her grandmother's iced smog cookies takes the sampler box from Liz Lovely. Congratulation! Now email me your shipping info.

Sweet Potato Pecan Muffins

I've turned a corner. Last week I quietly, and sometimes less so (I'm so sorry if you were one of the people that had to hear me whine), pined for meyer lemons and heaps of artichokes. But this week is better. I'm adjusting to life in the South. This week is all sweet potatoes and pecans.

(I think I like you) Shreveport Muffins
(Just to be clear - I have a budding though cautious regard for the town of Shreveport, but unbridled love for these little coffee companions.)

Muffins:
1 c. sweet potato puree
1/4 c. canola oil
2 T. ground flax
6 T. water
1/2 c. soy milk
1/4 c. dark molasses
1/4 c. sugar
1 c. flour
3/4 c. whole wheat pastry flour
2 t. baking powder
1 t. cinnamon
1 t. ginger
1/4 t. nutmeg
3/4 t. salt

Topping:
1 c. chopped pecans
2 T. melted butter
1/4 c. sugar
1 T. molasses

1. Grease a muffin pan and heat the oven to 350.
2. Whisk together flax meal and water and set aside until thickened.
3. Make the topping by combining the pecans, butter, sugar, and molasses in a small bowl.
4. Thoroughly stir together all wet ingredients including sugar.
5. In a separate bowl, whisk together the dry ingredients.
6. Add the dry to the wet and quickly fold together.
7. Scoop batter into prepared pan, top with sugared pecans, and bake at 350 for 25 minutes or until a knife comes out pretty clean.

Makes 12.

P.S. I'll announce the winner of the cookie sampler on Monday. If you haven't left a comment yet on the last post, it's not too late!

P.S.S Without the topping - this is a prefect toddler treat, not too sweet, packed with good stuff, no nuts.

Liz Lovely has Cookies for You

How happy was I after stumbling off of that dipping and rumbling flight, after finding that all 70 pounds of our entire lives' possessions had not chosen to make the last leg of the journey with us, looking forward to a shower and a change of clothes and a cocktail, to discover not only my loving husband waiting for me in Shreveport, but also a box of cookies!

The wonderful people at Liz Lovely were somehow under the misconception that my opinion was influential, and am I ever happy that I did not disabuse them of this notion.

These are some good cookies. The Ginger Snapdragons are big and soft and chewy, spicy with fresh ginger, and, dare I say it... better than homemade. This cookie magic does not come from any kind of unrecognizable chemical combination though, the ingredients are all, not only kitchen shelf staples, but also certified organic and Fair Trade wherever possible. Now I know statements like that can be incredibly misleading, but when I say "wherever possible" I do not mean, "They can't use organic flour, it's just not cost effective." I am instead referring to the fact that there is not organic certification for things like (Vermont well) water and (sea) salt and (would somebody please come up with artisanal) baking soda.

In addition to the ginger, that, by the way, went quite well with that little dram of bourbon, we also had a four pack of dark chocolate covered sandwich cookies. This classic vegan oreo-style treat finds its fancy pants in a gorgeous draping of high quality dark chocolate. The crunchy cookie in its velvety coating was a treat indeed. Fortunately, in the name of research, I had to horde most of them for myself.

This company impresses the pants off me. 5 people in Vermont putting out an exceptional product in the most conscientious fashion. This is the kind of shopping that is just good for everybody. Now excuse me while I go join their fan club.

Oh, but first, leave a comment for an opportunity to win your very own sampler box. You could tell me about the best cookie you've ever had, or just say, "I want cookies," or if you think it will help, you can always talk about how much you like me. In any case, I'll pick a winner at random and pass on the info to the Lovely people.

A Few Observations

In a pinch, a bourbon bottle works fine as a rolling pin.

Here in Louisiana you can find Quaker brand instant bacon-flavor grits right there next to the maple-brown sugar oatmeal. In case you're wondering, this is not vegan.

In the face of kitchen obstacles, a jar of spaghetti sauce is magical.

The local hardware store sells a two vat deep fat fryer on wheels to use next to your barbecue. Paul says we can't get one.

Tomorrow there will be free cookies.

Emergency Candy

Phew. We're here. (In Shreveport, Louisiana - my mama-in-law's home town and our home for the next three months.) And today I would like to tell you that we would not have made it without emergency candy. In the days leading up to our trip, as I packed a toddler and most of a house on a cross country flight with a stop-over in Houston to change onto a tiny prop plane to take us to the 10th largest North American city in terms of land mass (woof this place is sprawling), there were some moments there, some moments where I found that I could... just... not... move... forward... without... candy. And while the boy slept or just turned his head, I managed to hunt down and finish off every last little stray box of Halloween treats. When that emergency stash was depleted, I turned to chocolate chips, but it just wasn't enough. And thus, emergency candy was born.

Take a blob of peanut butter (as much as you need, for my part this was about 2 Tablespoons). Add enough powdered sugar to blend the peanut butter into a firm dough (this is between one and one and a half times the amount of peanut butter - so start with 2 Tbsp, and add more as needed). Blend with a fork, as I said, into a firm dough. You will have to lightly knead with your finger tips as the dough becomes stiff. Now pinch off a piece of this dough, and just go ahead and eat it if this is a true candy emergency. If you can hold off for approximately two seconds, then roll that pinch into a ball, flatten it into a disk, press a chocolate chip or a cheerio into the middle, fold up the sides, and roll again into a ball. Repeat with remaining dough.

So, as I said, we're here. Thanks to the candy. Expect this blog to continue as before, with perhaps a slight southern accent. Now, if anyone knows where I can find organic and local fruit and vegetables in the Shreveport area, please share, we're slightly malnourished around here. No thanks to the candy.

Green Temple

Sunday was one of those baby days. Perhaps you know them?

It was all my fault. I planted the seeds the day before. On Saturday the Southern California Contingent of the PPK was here for brunch and there was even another little tiny vegan, Bella. To Bella's mama, I made the mistake of proclaiming what a good sleeper Desmond is. You just don't say things like that. You are asking for trouble. Bella's mama even gave me an out. "Always," she skeptically asked. And even while I out loud avowed that this was true I was thinking, "Oh no take it back! At least undo this jinx with a self-deprecating verbal knock on wood, you know along the lines of 'Oh ha, ha I shouldn't say that. Now I'm sure he'll be up all night.' kind of thing."

So lulling me into a false sense of security, that night he slept. But of course, the next day he was not interested at all in his normal nap. After finally going to sleep, he woke up early and crabby. I had all sorts of things planned for that precious nap time - mostly kitchen-cleaning kinds of things as I'd been too lazy the night before after everyone left to finish tidying up.

This cranky toddler/needing to get stuff done situation called for some creative mama thinking. Homemade play dough was the solution I proudly settled upon. I found several recipes online and began scanning, " Ages 2 and above....yada...yada...flour ...salt...water...yada...yada." So, begrudgingly in the highchair he went while I quickly distracted him with measuring cups and spoons and a metal mixing bowl, and huzzah, the sifter! In goes a cup of flour, out goes the recipe as we get to the part about cooking it over medium heat until a dough forms. Forget that, this was an emergency, we were playing with flour.

So that kept him entertained for 7 minutes. Enough time for me to wash one sink-full of dishes, and enough time for him to create approximately 14 minutes of mess. A cup of flour was now spread over the entire surface of my kitchen. I had never realized how much a cup of flour really is.

So crabby-pants, insisting that he would spend no more time in his chair, became quite adamant about having something from the fridge. He found a small plastic cup of fruit salad that I had packed for someone to take home. Perfect. He could absolutely have that. (Normally he pulls out a glass bottle of ketchup or beer. I am so tired of saying no...no wonder that is such a huge part of a toddler's vocabulary. I really need to work on that.)

So I pulled up his little stool, and sat him down with his cup of fruit salad (thank you Alice, and whoever didn't bring home their left-overs). Carefully picking away at the little cut-up pieces kept him entertained for much longer than the flour, until about half-way though when he overturned the bowl. So now, let me remind you, I am going through all these lengths to keep him entertained in the kitchen to give me time to clean up. Well, now the floor is covered in both flour and fruit salad and he's up and moving and squishing around in his cute little high tops.

So we abandon the kitchen and decide to go do laundry instead. Of course, there's a load already in the washing machine that has grown smelly, so I restart it, lift the boy off the dryer and he goes straight for the broom.

He marches it out to the kitchen and begins sweeping at his mess. "That's so cute, and yet, so, so not helpful," I think as he squishes the dry bristles around in fruit salad and into the flour, joining the broom and floor in the holy matrimony of fruity smelling kitchen cement.

So at that point, I give up, pick up the fruit and flour covered child and march him to the car. "We are going somewhere," I announce. Once we're both buckled in I realize where.

The Green Temple in Redondo Beach.

It's just a short drive up the coast, and we arrive just before they open for dinner at 5:00. This gives us time to wander through the coutryard, watch the fish in the fountain, repeatedly climb the stairs, and generally soak up a bit of the peace and calm that this small restaurant radiates.

At 5, we scooch into a cozy booth in the corner inside, as it's a bit chilly in that beautiful courtyard today. The waitress who exudes that same sense of inner peace that the rest of the place does is clearly nourished on zen meditation and the wholesome cuisine that Green Temple serves. She brings us both water, mine in a tall glass without ice, and Desmond's in a small plastic cup with a lid, filled half way, exactly as I would have asked.

We order the bowl of greens and a side of tofu. Desmond makes friends with the neighbors, and when the food comes, it's perfect. The greens are served over organic brown rice and black beans, topped with The Sauce. The Sauce is quite possibly either the reason you're here or the reason you avoid this place. For such a simple food, it inspires passion. This passion snuck up on me. To be honest I didn't used to be that crazy about The Sauce, but now I can't get enough. The Sauce is incredibly addicting, a rich savory tofu cream that Paul loves and Desmond won't touch. Fortunately the tofu comes in a perfect little cup on a saucer with a side of the sauce for dipping. I shake some of the seasoned cubes out onto the plate for the boy, who contentedly sets to munching while I take a deep breath and enjoy my healthy meal.

We leave, calm, nourished, and with just enough time to bathe the kid and put him to bed, where he thankfully sleeps through the night. Hallelujah.