Your Vegan Mom

Super Easy Homemade Baked Applesauce

I am surrounded by apples.  The preschool just completed their fall fundraiser apple sale and shelves and drawers and bowls are now spilling over with fragrant red and yellow fruit.

And I just finished reading The Orchard by Theresa Weir.  Have you read it?  It's both a memoir of her time living on an apple farm in Henderson County, Illinois in the seventies and eighties and a parable of the dangers of conventional farming.  She experiences firsthand the effects that pesticides and other farm chemicals have on the families whose livelihood is raising our food.  The book reads like chick lit - it's a quick, easy read - there's romance - but at the same time, it makes real what for many is just a vague idea - that there is a human cost to that piece of cheap flawless fruit in the grocery store that is far greater than what we are paying.  

And then my weekly produce box showed up, with more apples.  

So when I came across a recipe I wanted to try that called for applesauce, I thought, there is no flipping way that I am buying a jar of flipping applesauce. 

And I love Amelia Saltsman's technique for making it at home.  You cut the apples in half, roast them, and then scrape out the soft flesh.  It could not be easier.  She suggests you roast the apples with thyme and use a smidgen of calvados or cider to deglaze the pan, and that makes me want to throw a Hannukah party for grown-ups.  But my day to day applesauce needs are for the 2 to 5 year old set and their simple palates.  I did throw a few beautiful yellow pears into the mix that had recently fallen prey to a dangerous game of fridge jenga, and they added a nice floral sweetness to the sauce.  Also, it's important to note - if you use a red variety of apple, your sauce will blush a beautiful rosy pink.  That color, and the smell of roasting apples filling your house, just cannot be bought in a jar at Trader Joe's.  

Veggie Nuggets and Maternal Guilt

So, the vision in my right eye is blurred.  It's a total drag, and it's putting a serious damper on my ability to spend the entire month of October swimming in vegan food on the internet as is traditional.  I'm getting over iritis, but I prefer to think of it as maternal guilt beaming like a red light from my eyeball.  

Paul and I just got back from a 10 day vacation.  Ten days.  Paul and I.  Without the children.  

My pals, Christina and Lorenzo, got married in Saint Lucia and, of course, you know, it's just not good manners to miss a wedding, so we made it happen.  The kids divided their time between two sets of grandparents and I think they may have had even more fun than we did.

We lounged on the beach and lazily floated in crystal blue salt water; they visited two light houses, a museum, an aquarium, and the mall.  We sipped rum based cocktails; they drank straight juice (not even cut down with water).  We tasted dasheen and fresh turmeric and snake gourd and tiny sour plums and starfruit and pizza topped with curried lentils; the boys had candy and snow cones and frozen yogurt (Menchie's always has two non-dairy flavors).  They skipped naps; we slept till noon.  We climbed a mountain; they played soccer with Grandpa.  We danced in the street to party anthems pulsing from a loudspeaker on the back of a pickup truck; they snuggled on Grandma's lap and rocked to sleep.

We're all still recovering.

And so now, to overcompensate for abandoning my children for ten (10.) days, I'm feeding them.  I've made cookies and rice pudding and pumpkin waffles and oatmeal chocolate chip pancakes and the macaroni that they like that I haven't told you about yet and too many robot milk shakes to count.  After dinner I'm making tapiocy pudding (that's how Desmond pronounced it when he was three) and granola and crackers for tomorrow.  And I've got two batches of their favorite nuggets in the freezer.

I developed this recipe about a year ago after coveting similar, but egg-bound, not to mention expensive, products in the freezer section at Whole Foods.  I just love the idea of packing a nugget with vegetables.   And these nuggets have it all - beans, whole grains, both green and orange vegetables, and a little good fat from sunflower seeds.  They're really a complete meal nugget to assuage my maternal guilt.  For this one meal at least, they have everything they need.  

Veggie Nuggets

Like big tater tots with nutritional merit, these are totally meant to be dipped in ketchup.   

Makes: about 50 nuggets
Takes: about 45 minutes (15 active)

•  3 packed cups baby spinach
• 1/2 small onion, cut into chunks
• 2 cloves garlic, smashed and peeled
• 1/2 cup shelled sunflower seeds
• 1 packed cup shredded carrot (from 2 medium carrots)
• 2 cups cooked chickpeas or 1 15-oz. can, drained
• 2 packed cups cooked short grain brown rice
• 1/4 cup nutritional yeast
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1 cup panko for coating nuggets

In the bowl of your food processor, chop up the spinach, onion, garlic, and sunflower seeds to a chunky paste.  Add the rest of the ingredients to the bowl and process until you have a cohesive dough.  It should not be completely smooth - some textural variety is nice.

Pour panko out into a shallow bowl or pie plate.  Scoop rounded tablespoons of the vegetable mixture into the waiting panko.  Move it around to cover the ball with crumbs and then flatten it into a nugget shape between your palms.

Arrange on ungreased cookie sheets and bake for 30 minutes at 350, flipping your nuggets halfway through baking.  

Serve straight from the oven, or better yet, let cool, then freeze for later.  Panfry frozen nuggets in a little oil over medium-low heat for about 3 minutes per side.