Your Vegan Mom

Salami

On a deli roll with pepperoncini, yellow tomatoes, avocado, vegenaise, and dijon 

No baby yet.  Close your eyes if you can't handle lady news, but as of my doctor's appointment yesterday, I'm five centimeters dilated.  So really, we should have a baby any second.  

I missed the sandwich deadline.  After the nice people at Mezzetta sent me some jarred peppers, I planned to enter a recipe in their recent Make That Sandwich contest, but I neglected to read the noon PST deadline.  I've been a bit absent-minded and self-absorbed of late.  

Fortunately, the performance pressure of coming up with a vegan sandwich to rival all those shoe-in melty cheese numbers resulted in a really good deli slice recipe that I think might come in handy for any lunch packing you have going on this September.  And in other lunch-packing news, I am totally digging Vegan Lunch Box Around the World.  And you?  What's for lunch?    

Roasted Red Pepper Deli Slices or Vegan Salami

wet:
1/3 cup roasted red pepper slices and surrounding juice (or if you have roasted your own pepper, just add a touch more water)
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 tablespoon minced garlic
1/2 teaspoon liquid smoke
1 tablespoon red wine vinegar
1 tablespoon soy sauce
water to make one cup

dry:
1 1/2 cups vital wheat gluten
1/4 - 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 teaspoon salt

In a blender, puree the wet ingredients.  In a large bowl, mix together the dry ingredients.  Add the wet and stir to combine.  If necessary, knead just to incorporate all ingredients.  Shape into a fat log, about 6 - 7 inches long, and roll pretty tightly in aluminum foil, twisting the ends closed.  Steam for one hour.  Allow to cool before slicing.  

On grilled sourdough with (vegan) cream cheese and pepperoncini

 

Tomato Soup

My boy is two now and has become a toddler cliché.  For the last few months he was incredibly agreeable.  His favorite word was, “yeah,” delivered in this sweet little voice.  Example:

Are you ready for a bath?

Yeah.

89 cents for tofu? What a deal!

Yeah.

Three fish in a tree! How can that be?

Yeah. 

Oh for f@#%'s sake, turn already!

Yeah!

That last one was heard from the back seat while we ran errands during rush hour/ cranky time.  I was rightfully frustrated, but...oops.    

Now it's different.  Sweet little "yeah" has been replaced with big, full-bodied, arching-with-self-delight, screamed-from-the-tippy-toes, "NO!"  He practices.  Apropos of nothing at all, you’ll hear from his bedroom, with varying emphasis and volume, “No.  noooooooo.  NO!  no, no, no.  noooOOO!”

Just about everything receives one of those responses.  All sure-fire kid hits are now pushed away with exaggerated disgust.  No oatmeal.  No mac 'n cheese.  No sandwiches of any kind.  No.  No.  No.

    

So you can imagine my shock and delight when this soup was met with an emphatic yes.  He happily ate three bowls-full, while sitting in his high chair (another marvelously useful habit that I feared was behind us), and then protested when I finally put his bowl in the sink.  Oh, and two insignificant side notes - I like it too, and it's really easy to make.    

Tomato Soup

2 T. olive oil

2 smallish onions, diced

2 smallish carrots, diced

3 red potatoes, peeled and diced

1 large clove garlic, minced

28 oz. can unsalted whole tomatoes with basil

1 bay leaf

1 sprig thyme

3 basil leaves

3 T. red miso

6 c. water

salt and pepper 

1. In a big pot saute the the onions, carrot, and potatoes in the olive oil until the onions are translucent, about 7 minutes.  Add the garlic, stir, and cook for another minute, until fragrant.  Add the can of tomatoes. Smash the big tomatoes with the back of the spoon or a potato masher and add the bay leaf, thyme, and basil.  Let the pot simmer while you prepare the broth.   

 
2. Bring 6 cups of water to a boil and stir in the miso until dissolved.  Add the miso broth to the pot. Stir and let simmer for about 30 minutes stirring occasionally, until the potatoes are falling-apart tender and the soup is reduced a bit.     
  
3. Remove the herbs from the pot and puree.  Taste for salt and pepper (the miso is salty, so it may not need any additional salt). 
  

4. To serve - top with your favorite tomato soup garnish - croutons or snips of basil or chives or thyme or a swirl of pesto or cashew cream.   

Makes 6 servings.  

P.S. Desmond just woke up from his nap and is now sitting on my lap polishing off the tepid bowl of soup that I put together for that picture.  I guess he was hungry.  The combination of lots of shouting and refusing to eat will do that to a kid.  How long does this last?  

Barbecued* Seitan Tacos

As I'm quite fond of intending to make little tiny buns and not actually following through, (Yeast requires planning ahead, Man.) that orange chipotle barbecue sauce palled around with the only bread item we had on hand - corn tortillas.  And dang did we have some tasty tacos composed of random odds and ends pulled out of the fridge.  

To make 4 barbecued seitan tacos, you will need:

1 small fist-sized piece of seitan, shaved thin with a serrated knife

about 1/3 cup orange chipotle barbecue sauce (but you're not going to measure this, right?  Just shake some over the seitan until it looks like enough.)

about 1 T. canola oil

1 green onion, chopped

1 small avocado, sliced

1 leaf of romaine lettuce, shredded

4 corn tortillas, pan fried in about 1/8 inch of canola oil to make taco shells

Heat 1 Tablespoon canola oil in a large (preferably cast iron) skillet over medium high heat.  Add shaved seitan and barbecue sauce.  Heat until you have some caramelized bits (this will take about 3-5 minutes).  Add the green onion and cook for one more minute.  

Scoop seitan into crispy taco shells.  Top with avocado, shredded lettuce, and Mexican hot sauce.  

Devour.    

*So it's not actually barbecued, but the combination of the sauce and the high heat in the cast iron skillet will get you some serious grillin' flavor without having to get out the charcoal chimney.

 

Pizza Sandwich

crusty roll + grilled seitan cutlet + pizza sauce + melty cheese

Grill open face sandwich under broiler until cheese is bubbly and everything is warm.  Put on top bun and serve.

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

Lunch

I'm not on a diet, just out of bread. And lunch was actually two of these BLT wraps with a smidgen of vegenaise in each, followed by cookies. The vegenaise is crucial. Do you know that thing that a slice of fresh tomato and a dollop of creamy sandwich spread do? They mingle and become this new pink glop that is an essential element of the BLT experience - far more critical than the bread. The romaine leaf was clearly not the best wrapper, that big ol' crispy stem made for more of a messy lettuce taco than a tidy wrap, but the fresh crunch it provided more than made up for the messiness. And a fingers-dripping-pink-glop sort of lunch is good every once in awhile, it forces you to stop whatever else you're doing and just savor the contrast of salty and creamy and crunchy and cool and the sweet tang of a pretty decent slice of tomato.

Happy Friday. I hope you had a good lunch.

Simple Sesame Noodles

Man alive I have so much to tell you. The backlog of good food has been steadily mounting as the days have passed without my writing. It just gets worse and worse. It's hard to break the cycle. And this really is an awfully silly place to do it. I really ought to return with something grand, something to show for my absence, but this dish is just so simple, and it's simply what we've been eating. I've probably made it four times this week with different combinations of vegetables and noodles. Plus, I already have the picture taken, the recipe written, and I can't say the same for anything else that I would like to share. I need to go perfect the tempeh recipe, write down the cocktail recipe, take a better picture of the pancakes, and find out if I can publish the sauce. And I'm really having trouble finding the right words to describe my lunch with the ladies last weekend. Perhaps they can tell you about it? Oh, and we're moving to Shreveport, just for three months, but still, there's a lot to sort out. Any words of wisdom for a vegan family in Louisana?

Creamy Sesame Sauce for Noodles
2 T. tahini
2 T. tamari
2 1/2 T. seasoned rice vinegar
1/2 T. chili garlic sauce
2 T. agave nectar
1/2 T. toasted sesame oil

Mix that together. It won't want to blend, but once you toss it with the hot noodles, it will. Also, set aside some of the cooking water to add to the noodles if you need to thin out the sauce a bit. In the picture above, I boiled shelled frozen edamame along with the skinnyish udon from Trader Joe's and added raw shredded carrot at the end, but the combinations are limitless. However, garnishing with black sesame seeds is essential for both prettiness and subtle crunch.

This makes enough sauce to coat one serving of noodles and about a cup of vegetables which will then make a nice little meal for two people.

(I know that working in fractions of tablespoons is odd, but this is not the sort of dish that requires precise measurements. I got out a tablespoon so that I could find a common language for us all, rather than suggesting you put in a bit of this and a bit of that. Also, in a meal as easy to put together as this, I highly value only dirtying one measuring implement.)

Eat Your (Beet) Greens!

Having made a roasted beet and brussels sprout salad for approximately 58 people over the weekend, we are left with a mess o' beet greens to contend with. Yesterday Paul sauteed as many as would fit in a large skillet along with some olive oil, garlic, chili flakes, lemon juice, salt, and pepper. The pungent greens were a nice counterpoint to some simple soothing mac n' cheese.

Today the remainder of the already sauteed greens joined forces with some sweet browned onion to become a perfect filling for the fatfree vegan lady's omelette recipe. I don't have a non-stick pan. The cast iron serves me well in all areas except omelette making. This recipe was delicious and produced a light fluffy flavorful vegan omelette that I will definitely make again, but it stuck to my pan. (And it's not just because I cooked it too long, Smartie. I cooked it too long because I kept hoping that it would come off of my skillet the way it came off of Susan V's. It never quite did. And you would never be seeing this anyway if it weren't for this accursed VeganMoFo and the fact that I am still, rather surprisingly I might mention- I've never prided myself on my stick-to-it-iveness- writing about food everyday as per my own personal interpretation of the imprecise rules of the Vegan Month of Food.)

And so tonight we feasted on beet green omelettes. They weren't pretty, no, but they were mighty tasty.

Leftover Seitan Roast: the final chapter

Paul put the rest of the fake turkey in this bulgogi marinade and grilled it up for lunch on Sunday as we prepared for the party.

Eggplant Tofu Dumplings

filling:
1 large japanese eggplant, roasted
1/2 block firm tofu, crumbled
1 bulb scallions, finely chopped
1/2 tsp. sesame oil
1 Tbsp. tamari
1 inch piece of ginger, grated