Your Vegan Mom

Fig Tart

Our best pals are in town, and I am beside-myself excited.  I made a tart this morning to celebrate - my favorite tart filled with my best pal's favorite fruit.

I remember a few years ago in the LA Times food section, Russ Parsons talking about how easy it is to make frangipane (that puffy almond-y paste) in the food processor, and when I looked at the recipe I realized that it would totally work with flax-y goop in place of the egg, but it took me until now to actually try it.

It works.  Beautifully.

So, here's Your Tuesday Tip:

Any vegan can tell you that 1 tablespoon flax meal + 3 tablespoons water = 1 flax egg, which works well in most baked goods - cookies and muffins and pancakes and such.  If you let it sit for about 5 minutes and then whisk it up, you will see that it has created an egg-like gel that will work as a binder. 

But you should also know, that if you need to replace an egg yolk, in say a sweet tart dough, you can just cut the water in half.  So 1 tablespoon flax meal + 1 1/2 tablespoons water = 1 flax egg yolk.

Armed with flax eggs and vegan butter, a half dozen figs and a bag of almond meal from Trader Joe's, you have everything you need to veganify and fig-ify, Dorie Greenspan's excellent tart recipe.  

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.  

A Pirate and an Astronaut Walk Into a Bar: the four-year-old's review of Mohawk Bend

Me: So, Desmond, what did you think of Mohawk Bend?

Desmond: I like it.

Me: What was the best part?

D: Coming to the hiking path.

(This interview was conducted after dinner on our way to the Silver Lake Reservoir for some after dinner running around.)

Me: Okay, but dinner - what was the best part of dinner at the big new restaurant we just went to?  How was the pizza?

D: I liked it.  I liked that pizza.

(He had the kids meal.  It comes with a really good little pizza, vegan or dairy - be sure you specify!  It was cut into 6 tiny slices so it was perfect for our two under-fives to share.)

Me: Your pizza came with a salad - did you like it?  

D: Yeah.  I liked the salad.

(It was simple and crunchy and perfect for a kid with any level of salad tolerance.)

Me: What else did the kids meal come with?

D: Did it come with those little...with the spicy things...with the fried vegetables?

Me: No, that was Mommy's dinner.  I had the squash and chips, which was actually tempura vegetables.  (In that picture up there it was already half eaten.  It was madness at our table.  Everything was gobbled up in a swarm of legos that I had brought to keep the boys entertained in case of any sort of waiting.  As it turned out, we ordered an artichoke approximately the second we sat down and that kept the boys occupied until dinner arrived even with a couple ordering snafus.  So as I cleaned up all the legos the boys devoured everything on the table.  I quickly photographed and ate what was left in their wake.) You liked that, huh?  Was the sauce good?

D: (Nods enthusiastically.)

(The spicy things the boy referred to were the two tempura-battered chiles.  They were delicious.  I didn't have to share those.)  

Me: Yours came with fries and fruit.  

D: I liked the fries because they were little.  I never had little fries before.

Me: How about the burger?  Did you like the burger that Daddy ordered?

D: No.  Nah.

(I did.  It's a big fat quinoa - lentil patty served on good bread smeared with avocado and dressed with a little pile of ume pickled onions that I loved and wished were a bit more copious.  There's a nice little wedge of homemade-tasting sweet pickle on the side and a little bowl of exceedingly dull coleslaw.  I grudgingly gave him two tiny bites of my half of the burger, so he's not really one to judge.  But to be fair to the burger, he did ask for a second bite and it is comprised mostly of quinoa - which the boy avowedly hates.  It was good...though just a touch under dressed.)

Me: What else should we talk about?  Wasn't the place cool?

D: (Nodding.)

(We sat on the patio in front that is mostly shielded from Sunset Boulevard.  But if you have a runner, well then you're probably not going out to eat, but still I think the best option for families might be the pleasant atrium in the back that doesn't open onto a busy street.  And to deal with more practical matters for families - they have highchairs, but no changing table in the bathroom.  Though there there is a sink with a short counter in the large stall that could serve in a pinch.)  

Me: Should we go there again? 

D: (More nodding.)

Me: Is that restaurant good for kids?

(More enthusiastic nodding.)

Me: I think so too, Buddy.

 

Both of us: Cheers!

(Oh also, if you're looking for a kid's drink, they do serve more than beer.  There's a nice little citrus spritzer of fresh squeezed juice and sparkling water that the boys I think mostly spilled but also enjoyed.  I never got around to asking for a cup with a lid - so I'm not sure if they have them.  And of course, the beer list is excellent and Paul and I want to go back without the kids and sample the entire thoughtful cocktail list - everything just sounds perfect.  Actually, the whole place just about lives up to my restaurant fairy tale expectations.)

Creamy Basil Salad Dressing, a Brief Treatise on Raffi, and the State of Being Cool

Paul says that kids don't understand that their parents used to be cool.  That it's their fault that they aren't any more.  They made them this way.  

I say Raffi is awesome. That I just sort of missed the window to appreciate him the first time around.  In all the concert videos circa 1981, I've been looking for my mom and little brother.  They were there, Man.  I missed out because I was too cool.

After the boys sat glued to the couch through several youtube clips this morning - well, glued except for the two-year-old's dancing hands - he has this little chugging dance that starts at the elbows.  If the rest of him isn't glued to the couch then he'll bend at the waste a bit and bob up and down, maybe with an occasional sway while he chugs the arms.  That boy loves to dance.  

But as I was saying, after several riveting clips, it occurred to me to make a Raffi Pandora station so that we could do something else while we listened to the Raffi and and so that provided the soundtrack of our morning.  It was good.  Pandora played us lots of Elizabeth Mitchell which is lovely and several tracks from Barenaked Ladies' kids albums and I discovered that I totally dig Barry Louis Palisar.  

So we rocked out to Raffi and friends and cleaned the house and got everybody ready in leisurely fashion because for once we had no plans before noon.  At one point I sat down and drank a glass of water and read the issue of Everyday Food that arrived in the mail this morning during a suspicious bout of quiet that I decided to just take advantage of and pay for later.  Which is precisely what happened when I found the boys and their cleaned up, dressed, and previously ready-to-go selves sitting in a pool of mud in the backyard.  Of course.  

So I stripped them down and hosed them off and scrubbed the splatter from Felix's forehead.  Naked boys chased each other around for a bit with the hose set to mist and then we toweled off and got dressed again.

And now.  Now, the house around me is relatively clean (Thank you, Raffi.) and quiet (Thank you, Julia.) - I just dropped Desmond off at his best pal's house (only a little late after the whole mud pit set-back) and Felix is having a nap and I have had lunch - a leisurely quiet lunch enjoyed all to myself.  (That lunch up there - it's leftover pizza and a really big and delicious salad full of fresh lettuce, cherry tomatoes and corn and olives and chickpeas and some leftover pasta and the creamy basil salad dressing - were you wondering when we'd get to the salad dressing?) 

This leisurely quiet lunch gave me time to think about Raffi and losing one's cool once one becomes a parent.  I was going to see what you thought about all this - if Raffi is certifiably not cool and I have therefore lost all perspective or if in fact you just loosen up and become more open once you become a parent because... well sometimes you have to go with the flow and sometimes the soundtrack to that will be Baby Beluga, but then I took a break and went and listened to some more of my new hero, Barry Louis Palisar, and I'm here to tell you that holy poop that man can be annoying (disturbingly, frightfully annoying).  So I have determined that I still have my critical faculties in tact.  And therefore, Raffi and I are cool.  

Though something else Paul says is that if you have to tell people that you are a thing (as in an old roommate informing us that she was funny) then it's probably not true.  Dang that Paul has some smart things to say.  Now go eat your salad.  

Creamy Basil Salad Dressing
makes: 1 1/2 cups
takes: 5 minutes 

• 1 packed cup of fresh basil leaves
• 1 clove of garlic, peeled
• 1/2 cup of soy milk
• 1/2 cup of vegenaise
• 3 tablespoons lemon juice (or the juice of one nice lemon)
• 1 tablespoon olive oil
• 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

Whiz all ingredients in a blender until smooth.  Chill before serving - it will thicken up a bit in the fridge.  

TIP: The easiest way to measure the vegenaise is to get out your liquid measuring cup - measure the 1/2 cup of milk and then scoop the vegenaise into the milk until it measures a cup.  

Your Tuesday Tip: Reheating Leftover Pizza

Stove Top.  Medium Heat.  Heavy skillet.  About a minute, or until it starts to smell like a pizzeria in your kitchen.    

The crust will crisp and the toppings will heat as long as you're not working with too thick of a slice.  In that case I would probably cover the pan.  You might lose a teensy bit of crunch to the benefit of warm pizza, but I imagine it would be worth it.