COOKED: Tomato Basil Cream Pasta

Thanks to a beautiful photograph of her Tomato Basil Cream Pasta over at Vegan Yum Yum, I was inspired to make this delicious dish for dinner tonight.

But the reason I was most excited about it was because it was going to be the first time I would use my new food processor!

Kitten kept me company by lying on top of my to-do list, as I researched all the ingredients I would need.

Do you know how crazy the Internet is? One part of the recipe called for "coring the tomato". Huh? I didn't know what that meant. So I just googled it, and within seconds I came across a guy's website where he had an actual video of himself coring a tomato, explaining how to do it. Guess what? Not hard at all. Guess what? If I was Laura Ingalls, living in Prairie days, and I didn't know how to core a tomato, I'd have to run 3 miles over to Nellie Olsen's house, and see if Mrs. Olsen could give me a quick lesson in her kitchen. And then run all the way home so as to get supper ready in time before Pa came home from the Mill. I am so glad I don't live in Prairie days!

So the recipe title for this dish actually included the phrase, "Super Quick". Ha. Yeah, maybe not so much. But it was still really fun to make. It probably took an hour.

And Mom, the FP worked great! I even shot a video of it so you could enjoy the fruits of our labor...

What did I mix up in there?? Hmm, 1 large tomato, cashews, a little water, tomato paste. It worked so well and I was so excited! Later on, the recipe says to add a handful of chopped basil. Well, no problem! I just traded out the big bowl for the little bowl with the little blade, and chopped that basil right up in no time. I'm so glad we chose the FP with all the extra bowls, it was such a time saver, because I kept exchanging one for the other.

Final product

So, the dish turned out utterly delightful. I even decided to make steamed greens with sauteed almonds (a la Mom), which were perfect.



Now, if only someone could help me with the last task!

COOKED: No-wheat Chocolate Chip cookies

I made these!

RECIPE: Veganomicon, page 237


A few notes:


1. Instead of wheat flour, you use oat flour. I still had some left over from the veggie-burger fiesta.

2. I was sans brown-sugar, and it called for a quarter cup of that, in addition to regular granulated sugar (half cup). So I substituted the brown sugar with Agave. Somewhere online I read that if you use Agave instead of sugar, you should add a quarter cup extra of flour because Agave is liquid. So I did that.

3. Mom, you gave me the extra sifter you had in the house. But it was so annoying to use! Is it just the way sifters are, or is this one outdated? I poured all of the flour (plus baking powder and salt) into it at once and started sifting. But in a minute, my hand started hurting, and no flour was coming out of the bottom of the sifter. So I started hitting it against the side like I remember you doing, but it just felt awkward. Eventually, I poured it out and started putting the flour back in the sifter in much smaller portions. I had to keep shaking it and hitting it in order for it come out. Am I not getting something about sifters? (feel free to leave a comment if you know the answer).

4. It seems to be a trend for me that anything I cook will always be more liquidy than expected. It was probably because of the Agave. So when I used a tablespoon to glop out the cookie portions on the tray, it spread a little wider than I think it was supposed to.

5. The recipe called for flax seeds. Which I have. But today I learned that flax seeds are worthless unless you grind them up. And I don't have a coffee grinder, which most people say they use for this purpose. And I didn't feel like the food processor would be that economical for just a tablespoon of ground flax seeds. So I left it out of the recipe this time. I will buy pre-ground flax seed powder at the supermarket. And give this bag to Dad, who does have a grinder, and will be happy to add these to his smoothies.

END RESULT: I think they're pretty good! I might have let them bake too long. They turned out pretty flat, not moist and fluffy. I don't know what was supposed to happen, really. But I'll bring them to work tomorrow and see what people say.

Life: Like an enzyme, I'm breaking down

I was in the supermarket today, and I got really, really upset.

I wanted to buy a green pepper. But they looked a little under the weather. Then I noticed they weren't organic. But the only place to buy organic green peppers was about a 15 minute drive away. That would mean more gas emissions. Then I started recalling some article I read about how certain colored vegetables are better than others. I couldn't remember which one. Was it white vegetables (cauliflower)? Or green ones? Or orange ones (carrots)? Or, was it not specific colors that mattered, but an array of colors, like a rainbow, that I was supposed to be ingesting?

I suddenly felt so fed up and frustrated.

Plus, I had once again forgotten my "save the trees" tote bag, and so would have to accept plastic again.

This was getting to me. All this pressure to stay healthy, keep the world safe, recycle, stay local, boycott, fight for the underdog, stock my trunk with tote bags, fill my fridge with non-soy products. I can't take it! These things are supposed to be done for our well-being and the greater good. But keeping track of all of it is a full-time job.

At first I was really excited when I made it a priority to start living more consciously. I embraced it totally. It was like the flood gates opened and I dove in head first.

Now, I feel like I'm standing in the middle of supermarket, starving, holding a wimpy green pepper, thinking about how there are so many ways I could have made better purchasing, sustainable, and economy supportive decisions in the process of making my silly little salad.

So, I guess, for purely selfish reasons, I decided to write down all the things I AM doing now, that I know are good for the environment and my own well-being.

GOOD: I changed all the light bulbs in my house. That wasn't hard. I bought a whole box of them, and as soon as they started dying, I replaced them with the kind of bulb that Al Gore told me to buy.
AND THEN SOME: Of course, I then had to remember to put the dead light bulbs in the glass recycling bin. And put the cardboard cases that the light bulb came in, in the paper recycling bin.

GOOD: I made it a goal to eat vegan for the summer. I won't call it a diet, and I won't call it a full-time commitment. But I was so moved when I learned about the exploitation of animals within the meat industry, that adapting this lifestyle was a no-brainer. I guess you could call it a political move. I don't feel the need to rescue every animal and I'll never say, "I won't eat anything with a face." But I am strongly against the unethical treatment of living things.
AND THEN SOME: It ain't easy. First you decide to go vegan. Then you have to start learning about proteins. And enzymes. And B-12. And multi-vitamins. And the downsides to too much soy. And the downsides to too much salad and not enough beans. And then you have to explain all this to people, who over and over say to you, "But you're not getting any protein," as if a carnivorous diet is the most nourishing way to eat in the world. It's not like the meat and dairy I was eating before was that good for me.

GOOD: I recycle as much as I can now.
AND THEN SOME: But then you have to find room in your small apartment for all the different bins. And you have to keep track of the garbage collection schedule on your block. I had a landlady once who was so strict about recycling, she used to take apart her ball point pens, because each part belonged in a different bin, she told me.

GOOD: I always look for opportunities to say, "No thanks, I don't need a bag."
AND THEN SOME: I have got to start remembering to put those tote bags back in the car.

Oh, want to know the ending of the story?

I bought an orange pepper, non organic.
A bag of organic carrots.
One cucumber, non organic, but peeled the skin off.

And yes, I had to put all that and more in a plastic bag.

But that's OK.

I used it to clean out the litter.

Food: Veganomicon

Veganomican is the funnest cookbook!

I don't know, maybe it's just my fascination with all things vegan now, but I can't remember the last time I ever felt this overjoyed about receiving a cookbook on my doorstep.

But this works for me! This is sooo interesting, and there's logic to it. And there's purpose. And it feels all at once global and personal.

So far, I've made the jelly donut vegan cupcakes for my students. I was so excited to make them, and did so the very day I got the cookbook. I was so excited that I had students in my midst this summer to experiment on. They were fun desserts to make. And I felt so adult-like because I had all the ingredients at home already. That's what happens after years of baking one-shot-deals and wondering what I would ever do again with baking powder. Well, that night everything was used again, and it felt great.

The kids really loved them. I will admit, I, and my co-teacher, both agreed that they are kinda, sorta, an acquired taste. I mean, I didn't use white flour (whole wheat) and I didn't use frosting (strawberry jelly).... and that's kinda the whole point of cupcakes, right? Gooeyness! Moistness! Sweetness! These didn't really have that. But they also don't have the guilt either that pink-n-white cupcakes usually leave behind after you've eaten (5 or 6) of them.

Then last night, for our one-day-early July 4th (3rd) party, I made my first vegan feast! It was sooo fun, and sooooo delicious. Many recipes came from the cookbook. NO animals were harmed or digested in the process. Except for the kitten, who did not get to lick the olive oil out of the bowl despite her protests.

The hit-list included:

those vegetarian stuffed mushrooms
http://www.cooks.com/rec/view/0,171,150172-250192,00.html
review: totally delicious and moist and crunchy and exciting to eat

those chic pea cutlets
http://www.chow.com/recipes/11364
review: awesome. fulfilling. perfect with the mustard sauce they recommend.

those zucchini pieces
http://theppk.com/recipes/dbrecipes/index.php?RecipeID=94
review: way too delicious and almost sweet.

that cucumber salad
http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/CUCUMBER-MUSTARD-AND-DILL-SALAD-230740
review: perfect. i love this.

And finally, my NEW cookbook:
http://www.theppk.com/nomicon.html
get yourself one!

Restaurant: Jules

The restaurant is called Jules
It's on 65 saint marks st
between 2 and 1st ave

I don't usually write about restaurants on this blog, but if you're googling this eatery and you come across this blogpost, then you should know that it is really worth your time. So if that's your question, then yes, you should go there tonight.

When you first enter the place, you have to push back the big, plush, red velvet curtains. That right there turns your foray into the restaurant into a "stop and pay attention" moment. The small, candle-lit room is busy with energy, laughter and vibrance. Mostly I noticed how it seemed so friendly -- big tables surrounded by smiling people, linen tablecloths, wine-filled glasses, everyone having a good time. Lucky for me, that's what we were there to do.

The other thing, the most important thing really, is the jazz band playing against the wall. Cute guys with big instruments were making some really good music that night, and apparantly there's one musician who frequents the place as someone who can play the trumpet with his mouth. Meaning, no instrument; just his mouth. And he's good!

We sat in the back "hallway" area, where you can still hear the music but hold a fun conversation with the person next to you. The waiters were excellent, kept our glasses full the whole night. The food was terrific! I had a steak dish, with asparagus risotto. The person to my left had a salmon dish with amaazing mashed potatoes. The person to my right ordered something with an extravagant name that turned out just to be meatballs and spaghtetti, and she could only finish one of them.

I appreciate good food, but I don't always want to eat a meal where I have to keep praising the food. Sometimes you want good food, but you want your energy to be on the people you're eating with. However, this was really good food! And really great music! And a great table of people to share it with. So that makes the evening a what? A triple threat.

Restaurant: Aqua Al 2

My landlady waved her hand flippantly at the restaurant. It was a bit nondescript, with a wooden sign above the door. A few trees flanked either side of the entrance.

In her broken English she told me, as she rode her bike and I struggled to keep up next to her in my exhausted state, "All the Americans go here. So expensive. I don't know why. Not worth it."

Later on I realized that this little restaurant, just a few steps down the cobblestone street from my apartment, was the highest rated, most strongly encouraged restaurant in my guidebook. Then I got an email a few days later from my cousin telling me that when she was in Italy, she had one of the best meals of her life at a restaurant she insisted I check out. It was this one.

So when my sister arrived, we decided to be decadent and made reservations at this hyped-up restaurant. The entrance was on my street, but it's address matched the Via around the corner. Hence, it was called: Aqua 2. Named after via dell'Acqua.

Our reservations were for 9 pm, and we almost missed it because of a last-minute debate as to whether we should climb the Tower of Pisa. There was a crowd waiting outside the restaurant when we arrived at exactly 9 double zero, and it was obvious there was no way you were getting in without your name on the list.

Eventually we were seated at a big wooden table downstairs. It was so crowded that we had to share our table with three other people, who seemed more annoyed by the circumstances than we were. The menu was handed to us, and it was ALL in Italian. But we like a challenge.

Here's what we ate:

Sis had a first course of Fuscilli with Spinici. I had a first course of Macaroni with Gorgonzola cheese. I don't know how to describe to you how utterly unbelievable these dishes were. You could taste every single piece of seasoning, each nuance of the cheeses. We kept sharing our dishes, whispering to each other, "Oh.My.God."

For the second course I had the dish the restaurant is famous for. Steak with Blueberry Sauce. Who has ever heard of such a combination?? The ample sized chunk of meat arrived on a white plate, swimming in a dark blue sauce (yes, blueberries!) and I delightedly started cutting away. It was heavenly, out of this world, sublime, exquisite. It was a steak meal I will never, ever forget.

My sister also got a steak, but a little more of an Italian delicacy type. It was wrapped in some sort of dough, and cooked with saffron -- and you could, of course, TASTE the saffron. It was also magnificent. She loved it. Again, we kept switching dishes, repeating over and over, "Oh.My.God."

Of course, there was wine, too.

Then for dessert, our waitress suggested a "sample plate". Wow. It was a slice of cheesecake, a slice of fruit pie, and a slice of chocolate cake. My goodness. Never have we tasted cheesecake like this. Forget NY-style. Forget it. Just go with Florence-style.

The whole meal, considering all we ordered, was expensive, but not out of the park. It was around 65 euros, give or take, which is about, hmm, $90, give or take. Which for two people, having the MEAL OF THEIR LIVES, is unbelievably worth it.

Restaurant: The Turkish Kitchen

I've never really written an official restaurant review before, and to be honest, I find them quite boring and more like adjective competitions. But I'll give it a go here, in my own style. If I were a restaurant review, what would I look like?

Last night we took my mom out for her birthday at a Turkish restaurant that she loves and frequents, and more importantly, had a coupon for. The walls there are all red, and the tables are always full. There is a perfectly-toned buzz of conversation floating above your head that makes you feel like you're at the best party in town.

We were our own little party. And voraciously hungry. We devoured our appetizers rather quickly. Zucchini patties, fried golden, and dipped in yogurt-cucumber sauce. Filo dough rolls, crunchy on the outside, soft in the middle. A fabulous lentil soup that was so very un-lentil like. We plunged our dinner rolls into the last droplets left behind. That's the sign of a good meal: When you find yourself searching for creative ways to savor what remains.

Our entrees arrived and the wine was poured for those of us declaring we were not going to be designated drivers that evening. One plate was a melting pot of yogurt sauce and beef chunks, which looked more like gnocchi in white sauce. And tasted a bit more like it. Like a ravioli, the waiter told us, which wasn't quite true. Bread had to be ordered to finish it off, because it felt like more of a soup, in an unsuccessful sort of way. But Mom declared that's the first dish that she hadn't given an A+ too there.

I had a plate full of filet mignon chunks, appropriately colored this time. They sat along-side little triangular baked potatoes and surrounded by rice. I have to tell you, it was delicious. Mom and Dad explored the vegetarian options, and got along with their dinners quite nicely too.

Dessert was presented to us on a circle of white plates and we chose what we wanted. We nibbled at our flan-like custard rolls and our almond pudding while sipping hot apple tea.

After the opening of birthday gifts, the evening ended as it usually does. Mom and Sis stretching their stomach and declaring, "I'm so full!" and Dad and I picking up the odds and ends remaining on the table, wondering what we could take home for later.

Restaurant: Mystic Pizza

This weekend I walked in Julia Robert's shadow. I sat at what might have been her table. I ate what might have been her pizza.

We were driving home from New England in the fifth hour of what should have been the second hour of our weekend road trip. Or as Sis liked to call it, "Only 3 more panels left to fold over on the map!" Dying for a lunch break around 5pm, Sis and I decided to visit Mystic, Connecticut.

We have a rule when we embark on these drives: Don't pull over for a rest-stop unless you can see it from the road. That golden nugget prevents us from getting lost. It also prevents Sis from peeing once we hit Interstate 95.

But we crossed our fingers when we saw the exit sign for Mystic. With a gleam in our eye and a rumble in our stomach, we decided to risk it. Luckily, we found the town quickly. (Well, there was one moment when Sis screamed at me for not turning left at the light, and I screamed back that it was an entrance to a Home Depot parking lot.)

What we saw of Mystic was: One street. And on that street were lots of tourists, lots of little quaint stores, lots of sailboat and seashell figurines adorning charm bracelets, and absolutely nothing of virtue to buy for our mother who, "doesn't like cute things".

We made reservations at Mystic Pizza, home of the movie staring the aforementioned sweetheart, home of the Slice of Heaven. I didn't see any sisters in the back fighting over married men versus classes at Yale, but the place was packed nonetheless. Clearly Mama has passed on her recipe.

We ordered a small pizza with spinach and mushrooms. I couldn't really see the spinach on the pie when it arrived, but I think that's because it was already engulfed by the cheese. Now that's how you make a pizza! It was cheesy and hot and I have to tell you, it was delicious. It was just as good as the fake review in the fake restaurant regarding the fake pizza said it was. We loved it, for real.

That put us back in a good mood, and an hour later we confidently returned to Interstate 95 to continue our trip. And I can assure you, there were absolutely no driving mishaps or wrong turns that happened after that.

Oh no, dear me, none at all.