Your Vegan Mom

Down Home Cooking

We just got back from our first honest to goodness family road trip.  

With two children and one borrowed mini van, we sauntered along the beach in Santa Barbara, sampled wine (and grapes) in Paso Robles, met South African penguins in Monterey, hugged grandparents in Pacific Grove, dug a big hole with a gaggle of cousins in Sacramento, and hiked shady paths to gaze at the Golden Gate Bridge spanning the San Francisco Bay.

We ate well.  

There was an excellent picnic of big fat marinated beans and fancy crackers and olives and quince paste and almonds on the patio of the winery, and the best chips and salsa of my life from Bridget Parker's booth at the Paso Robles farmers market.  We had carrot milkshakes and surprisingly good tempeh burgers from a hippie joint in Santa Barbara when we discovered that Pizza Guru was way too far to walk from the beach with two small children.    The boys had their first shirley temples.  Paul and I spent a lovely afternoon in a modern day tiki bar in Pacific Grove tipsily wading through the very nice list of tropical drinks and vegan snacks - the spicy charred edamame were a revelation.  The spring rolls were adequate.  

When Sugar Plum Bakery was sadly closed for the holiday weekend, we ran into friends from school in a pub in Sacremento that serves a very respectable tofu scramble for brunch.  

I got to cook with my sister-in-law with the tomatoes and zucchini from their huge garden.  

And then on one of the last afternoons of our trip, Desmond and I sat on a park bench together above the coastal trail in Golden Gate National Park and shared a snack picnic that we had picked up at Walgreens on the way.

While the boy happily crunched his life's first pringle and we passed back and forth a can of mixed nuts, Desmond looked at the trees and wildflowers and the path that curved around to who-knows-what-next-adventure, and said, 

"I just can't leave our vacation."

So we agreed that we would remember this moment forever, and then we ran down that trail, and discovered a red tailed hawk perched in a tree just above us, and we talked to a man about the trolley cars that used to run all the way along the cliffs, and then when the trail forked we changed each other's minds and raced down a gazillion stairs to the beach below.  Desmond climbed on the old wooden pilings and together we balanced on a make-shift teeter-totter. 

And now we're home.  And while I write about this it does make me a little sad, there is one place that I am so relieved to finally be - 

My. Own. Flippin'. Kitchen.

The seitan and chips and donuts and tropical drinks and giant sandwiches and cans of chips were good and all, but man am I happy to go back to the way we normally eat.

It is now rice and beans and vegetables all the time -  which is good, because, also, we are totally broke now that we're back from gallivanting around wineries and San Francisco.  

One of the first things I made when we got home was a big ol' batch of The Sauce.  You know, The Sauce?  We've talked about it before, but I'm actually going to write down the recipe today.  It's originally from The Spot in Hermosa Beach, so it's old school vegetarian fare, but it is so addictive-ly creamy delicious smothered on that virtuous bowl of rice and beans and vegetables.  I hadn't noticed how many little tweaks we've made to the recipe over the years.  I always just made the mental conversion - canola oil for almond (cheaper), nutritional yeast instead of brewer's (we're not that old school vegetarian), a little less oil, a different kind of tofu, scale everything down 75% to compensate, until finally I realized that I ought to just write it down the way we make it.  

It is what I crave when I'm away from home - this perfectly simple hearty sustenance.  

The Sauce
Hey!  Does that sound like a ton of oil?  I know.  But it makes a huge batch, and I've actually reduced it a tiny bit from the original recipe, which incidentally, you can find here.  Also, I always pour this over something almost or completely fat-free like rice and beans and steamed vegetables.  My kids prefer to use it as a dip - wet your hands and turn the rice into little dip-able balls to eat with lightly steamed broccoli and carrots.  

Makes: about 3 cups
Takes: about 5 minutes 

• 1/2 cup canola oil
• 3/4 cup water
• 1/4 cup Bragg's
• 2 tablespoons nutritional yeast
• 1/4 teaspoon kelp powder
• 1/4 teaspoon Spike
• 1/4 teaspoon dried basil
• 1 clove of garlic, smashed and peeled
• 1 1/2 teaspoons lemon juice
• 1 teaspoon tamari
• 1 12-ounce package firm silken tofu

Blend all ingredients until smooth and creamy.  

We love this sauce drizzled (or more accurately - heavily poured) over the House Tofu with spinach and rice or over a simple bowl of rice and beans and vegetables (the other day I even just warmed some fresh-from-the-can black beans under hot water - don't tell Gourmet Magazine).  It was delicious on top of tempeh and broccoli and rice the other day.  My kids like to dip steamed vegetables and rice balls in it.  And if you have leftovers, you can even turn the sauce into seitan cutlets.  

Simple Creamy Pasta

Did I tell you that on our first date, I invited Paul up to my apartment at three in the morning and made him dinner?  I was so young and naive, but fortunately so was he.

That night, almost 16(!) years ago, in my very first kitchen, I made pasta with bell peppers and tomatoes and fresh mozzarella.  (I didn't ditch the cheese until a couple years later.)

This pasta here is just the sort of dish that you could casually whip up at three in the morning with what you probably have on hand, all while sipping a glass of wine, shooing away your college roommate, and looking like a domestic goddess.

Incidentally, it is also a perfect lunch to prepare for two hungry children under the age of five because you need to go grocery shopping and you're out of bread and this will only take about 3 more minutes than pb&j anyway and you're still wearing your sweaty gym clothes from your visit to the Y fives hours previous.

But also, I was thinking we're all going to need some almost instant dinners in our arsenal as the days get shorter and the back-to-school schedules get more harried.  

This pasta is perfect for all those scenarios.  It's flexible.  I used spinach because it's what I had (and of course it cooks quickly) but you can use whatever vegetable odds and ends you have in the house.  Mushrooms or broccoli or kale would all be delicious.   

Almost Instant Semi-Fancy Pasta
makes: 3 grown-up servings 
takes: about 12 minutes

• 8 ounces whole wheat penne (or half a bag)
• 1 teaspoon olive oil
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 2 big handfuls of baby spinach
• pinch of salt
• 2 heaping tablespoons sliced sun-dried tomatoes packed in oil
• 1/3 cup vegan parmesan
• about 1/3 cup pasta water
• black pepper 

About 5 minutes before your pasta is done cooking, heat the olive oil and garlic in a big skillet over medium-low heat.  When the oil is hot and the garlic smells wonderful, add the spinach and a pinch of salt to the pan.  Toss it around with the oil and garlic until wilted.  Add the tomatoes with their oil.  It's probably time to scoop the pasta out of the water and into the pan with the vegetables - if you don't have a big slotted spoon called a spider, well you should probably get one - they're cheap and useful - but if you don't have one, drain your pasta, but reserve about a cup of the pasta water for the sauce.  Add the parmesan to the pan and stir it around to coat the pasta.  Drizzle in enough pasta water to give it a creamy consistency.  Stir.  Taste for salt.  

Serve (grown-up portions) with a few cracks of black pepper.

Notes on kid-friendliness: No, neither of my kids ate the sun-dried tomatoes, but the oil they're packed in gives this dish a nice flavor and the tomatoes are easily avoided and saved for me.  Felix ate around the spinach, sigh, but Desmond ate it.  If I had had more time I would have chopped it finely - that will sometimes work with the 2-year-old.  

Okonomiyaki [Simple, Delicious, and Vegan]

Cut into wedges, okonomiyaki makes a good snack for a party or a gaggle of 4-year-olds.  

I never told you about the okonomiyaki obsession of late 2010.  Right there in the middle of Christmas hysteria, between baking 10,000 cookies and tracking down mittens and addressing cards, I was seized, simply seized, by a need for okonomiyaki, or a large Japanese pancake.  I know that okonomiyaki is a large Japanese pancake because I had one once.  It was good, even really good, but seriously, where did this sudden obsession come from?

I can't say.  But I for one, heed the call, especially when it comes smack dab in the middle of Christmas hysteria.  (Right.  Respite from Christmas hysteria.  That's where it came from.)

So, I put down the cookie sheet and scoured the internet.  Eggs, eggs, eggs.  Obviously, it's a large pancake - eggs are a traditional binder.  Alternatively, grate some nagaimo to a sticky pulp.  No.  I need okonomiyaki now, and my vegetable crisper is fresh out of Japanese mountain yam.  And then I remembered the most obvious source to turn to - the vegan Japanese cookbook right there on my own shelf.  

And there was just the recipe that I was looking for - composed entirely of ingredients already present in my kitchen, easy to throw together, and producing results that perfectly satisfied my compulsion.  

I was happy, and I rediscovered a great cookbook in the process - Japanese Cooking: Contemporary & Traditional [Simple, Delicious, and Vegan].  (How did this book almost completely leave my consciousness?)  

The author, Miyoko Nishimoto Schinner, has a whole chapter on homey modern day classics - Japanese foods that have joined the lexicon in the last several generations - things like that big pancake and curry rice and katsu that she describes as the American equivalent of pizza and macaroni and cheese - comfort foods.  Included in this chapter are  even dishes not commonly seen outside of Japan, like a creamy sauce served over rice called doria.  

I haven't tried that yet, but we did make a more traditional dish - a hearty winter miso soup variation with potatoes and onions to accompany the okonomiyaki.  It was a perfect January meal - even for a mild Southern California evening - the meal was both hearty and light.  I have at least 6 more recipes dog-eared to try in the coming weeks - fried tofu dumplings and a Japanese pilaf and spinach with sesame sauce.  

How about you?  Have you made anything from this cookbook?  

Okonomiyaki [Simple, Delicious, and Vegan]
from Japanese Cooking: Contemporary & Traditional [Simple, Delicious, and Vegan] by Miyoko Nishimoto Schinner, reprinted with permission of the Book Publishing Company (I added a few of my own notes in parentheses.)

• 2 cups water (or broth - next time I'm going to try it with konbu stock)
• 1/4 pound regular tofu (or about 1/2 cup)
• 2 1/2 cups whole wheat pastry flour or all-purpose flour (as usual, I went halfsies.)
• 1 teaspoon salt 
• 2 teaspoons baking powder
• 4 or 5 cups thinly sliced or slivered vegetables: onions, carrot matchsticks, cabbage, broccoli, green beans, mushrooms, etc. (Last night I used 2 shredded carrots, half a minced onion, and 4 large leaves of bok choy, crunchy parts finely chopped, leafy parts shredded)

Puree the water and tofu in a blender until smooth.  Combine the flour, salt, and baking powder in a large bowl, and mix well.  Pour in the liquid mixture, and mix lightly.  Add the vegetables and mix well to combine.

Cook large pancakes on a lightly oiled skillet or griddle over medium-low heat until browned on both sides.  Serve while hot with soy sauce or tonkatsu sauce.

Yield: 4 - 6 servings

Your Vegan Okonomiyaki Sauce
This is totally not traditional, and not at all Ms. Schinner's fault - it's a fairly wild departure from an approximation of what other people put on their okonomiyaki.  It's also wildly delicious.  

• 1/2 cup vegenaise
• 2 tablespoons kecap manis (or 1 tablespoon soy sauce and 1 tablespoon maple syrup in the likely event that you don't keep this Indonesian condiment on hand.)
• 1 - 3 teaspoons sriracha hot sauce (or leave it out if you don't want it hot)
• 1 teaspoon sesame oil

Stir together.  Adjust to your taste.  Serve with hot okonomiyaki.   

House Tofu

Have I told you this already?  Desmond has gotten picky.  I suppose it was inevitable - he is a child.  But even so, it seems bad.  For example, here's a conversation that he had with his pal in the sandbox on Friday:

Mauro: I'm cooking rice and peas.

Desmond: I don't like peas.

Mauro: I won't put peas in yours.  I'll make you rice and corn.

Desmond: I don't like corn.

Mauro: Okay, you can cook your own.

Seriously, if the other almost four-year-old has already given up on him, how am I supposed to get a varied diet into this little body?  Yesterday, on the way home from the store, when he and I were discussing what we were eating for dinner.  (Barbecued seitan sandwiches with cole slaw.)  And I waited for his predictable response, wondering whether he was going to go with, "I don't like seitan," or "I don't like cole slaw," he surprised me.  He didn't say either of those things.

His response?  "I don't like barbecue sauce."

I had to laugh.  And ask him what he does like.  Apparently at this point in his career, the boy likes peanut butter and jelly, and tofu.  Here's how we eat it most often -

House Tofu
This is the basic way that I prepare tofu to use in sandwiches or serve with rice, and greens, and savory sauce.

• 1 pound extra firm tofu
• 3 tablespoons Bragg's Liquid Aminos or soy sauce
• 3 tablespoons lemon juice (that's the juice of your average lemon)
• 1 tablespoon olive oil
• 2 cloves of garlic, smashed and peeled

Slice tofu into cubes or slabs for sandwiches.  Whisk together the remaining ingredients.  Pour over tofu.  Toss to somewhat evenly coat and set aside to marinate for an hour or two or even better, overnight.  Heat a cast iron skillet over medium, and cook the tofu for about three minutes on each side until lightly browned.

Baked Tostada Shells

 

We eat tostadas approximately once a week.  They are easy, endlessly varied according to what vegetable odds and ends we have on hand, enjoyed by every member of the family in slightly different forms (Desmond - just beans on tortilla, vegetables on side; Felix - pre-salted beans, plain chunks of avocado; Trina and Paul - everything plus hot sauce), and an excellent use of less than fresh tortillas.  The only down side is the tortilla frying.  So we ditched it.  We now smear the tortillas around in a bit of oil and then bake them in a hot oven until crunchy and browned.  Topped with refried beans and a quick salsa or slaw of whatever you have around, dinner is ready.  Here are some topping options:

• corn, bell pepper, onion, cilantro, lime juice, touch of agave, salt and pepper
• cabbage, onions, cumin, oregano, orange juice, lime juice, salt and pepper
• shredded zucchini and carrot with lemon juice, cumin, minced chile, olive oil, salt and pepper
• sliced avocado, squeeze of lime, dash of salt, shake of hot sauce
• leftover tempeh asado

Baked Tostada Shells

• 6 corn tortillas
• about 2 tablespoons mild cooking oil

Heat oven to 400.  Drizzle oil over cookie sheet.  Smear each tortilla around in the oil to lightly coat each side.  Bake for 15 minutes, flipping tortillas once so that they brown evenly.