NoMoCoFo: an absurdity characterised by the long o, or the new theme for this month’s blogging adventures? If you guessed both, then you are correct–welcome to November, the Month of No-Mo’(re) Costly Food! (Technically NoMoNoMoCoFo, but I’m cutting myself a break.)
My November blogging project concerns itself with reigning in my (and my household’s) food expenditures. Whether this comes as a result of relying more heavily on pantry and freezer stores, or by taking up offers to potlucks more frequently, or by not eating out, or through a combination of these and others, I’m setting out to save money this month and I want to keep you updated re: what I encounter and learn.
As a practical note, we’re closing in on day six now–which means I’ve got a bit of backtracking to do. I’m going to start by describing tonight’s dinner and then move on to writing some new, yet back-dated, entries on what I’ve been up to for the past couple days. (If you’re interested in good vegan eats in Chicago, be sure to scroll down a bit further, as I’ll be highlighting a great Indian buffet as well as panning another place.) This’ll be a slow game of catch-up, but it will happen–so check back.
Tonight I turned to one of my most favorite cookery books, The Grit Restaurant Cookbook, for their “Spicy Thai Noodles” salad. It wasn’t very spicy at all (owing, I think, to subbing chili oil for the chili paste) but it was packed with flavor. Whether they sing in the butterbeans or zing in the collards or ding in the noodle dishes, flavors in Grit recipes hold their own. There’s not a lot of room for subtlety–but then again, I like that. This recipe doesn’t call for it, but I punched up the protienaciousness with a block of tofu and added some peppers for color:
This dish was cheap, in part, because I relied on noodles I bought at the B&D for 80 cents, noodles that were just languishing in the cupboard. I had all the materials for the sauce on hand, too.
Come to think of it, there’s not a cookbook that I’d recommend more highly than The Grit’s. (No, not even VWaV, though it is definitely up there.) Many of my “signature” recipes–for gravy, chocolate cake, southern-style vegetables–have been adapted from the ones in this book. Over half of the recipes are vegan and many of those that aren’t can be easily veganised–think subbing Earth Balance (eBal) for butter. The Mock-Cream of Chicken Soup is a divine wonder of vegan trickery; the “Ted Bread” and Old-time Grit Buns always come out perfect; the “Chicken” Salad will earn you instant celebrity at any Fourth of July picnic.
Not to mention this: the first time my momma (think Steel Magnolias) ever ate the butterbeans (“Baby Lima Beans” in the book, but I use fordhooks), she swore up and down that there must’ve been a hambone in there. Well, perhaps not quite that dramatic–but she was astounded at the depth of rich flavor…and had a second helping. If that doesn’t convince you that you need The Grit’s cookbook, I have no idea what will.
Available at Amazon.com and BetterWorldBooks.com.
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Yowzah–today I was thrilled to learn that I actually have some happy, regular readers who are interested in what I have to say! Because I haven’t been picked up by google (yet?) and don’t get a ton of comments, I tend to think that this is just an exercise for myself–to see (especially in VeganMoFo) if I have what it takes discipline-wise to keep a blog. How refreshing and encouraging it is to hear, either through the grapevine or directly, that I’m reaching folks! So whether you’re an occasional reader, a frequent reader, a non-commenter or an avid one, thanks! The thought that you’re there gives blogging zest.
On the flip-side, it makes me feel guilty about not having blogged in a couple days. (Not that you’re out there chewing off your fingers waiting for something new to read, but it does add a measure of responsibility, knowing you’re there.) The disappointing truth is that there wasn’t much extraordinary coming out of our kitchen this weekend. Saturday and Sunday were rather glum because of work we did towards recovering the stolen bike. (It seems very unlikely that we will recover it, but we did the flyer/walking around the neighborhood/talking to the neighborrhood-alliance President thing anyway.) We ate a lot of pre-packaged food: a Kashi pizza, heat-and-eat dumplings, and more veggie patties of various stripes than I care to mention. Sunday I made raspberry muffins for a Process Theology conversation group–muffins, my culinary summit for Sunday. :-/
Tonight, though, was book club! Each month a group a small group of friends gathers for a pot-luck and conversation (with tons of unrelated gossip) around a featured piece of lit. Because October is my favorite month, I claimed it months ago. We read in common Janisse Ray’s Ecology of a Cracker Childhood. Since I’m too tired to write my own description, here’s a link to the associated wikipedia page. Basically, Ray interweves a story of South Georgia land, its plants (long-leaf pine & wiregrass) and its creatures (assorted) that is centuries older than she and her people are (the ecological narrative) with her own memoir of growing up in on this radically-altered landscape; specifically, in a junkyard with fundamentalist parents. It is a beautiful story that can be difficult to bear at moments, especially if you have bipolar disorder in your family; nonetheless, as I noted at book club tonight, it was not the tragic moments that coaxed tears from my eyes, but the soaring ones that stole my heart and infused it with rapture.
Appropriately, the theme of the food was “that which evokes your childhood/homeland.” I made my momma’s sweet tea–
- 8 tea bags steeped briefly,
- squeezed and poured over nearly two cups of sugar that waits in the bottom of the gallon jug
- then topped off with water
Sinfully sweet. I also served some good ol’ deep-southern buttermilk cornbread, cooked in the skillet with drippings from my vegan gravy; cabbage a la mamma–
- slice off a half of a big cabbage; core it; cut into bite-sized pieces
- put a little water in your pan
- add some eBal (Earth Balance), salt and white pepper
- add cabbage, stir well; steam til the cabbage is delectable mush!
and finally, a pot of Grit collards. The collards were the only thing that weren’t really like my mom’s at all, because when she makes collards she doesn’t have much “pot likker” (pot liquor; the juice from the cooked collards that lots of folks like to sop up with savoury cornbread). I use a recipe from Athens Georgia’s famous vegetarian restaurant, the Grit, which always renders a ton of tasty pot likker. It went especially well with tonight’s cornbread.
I was grateful that B brought mashed potatoes, H, a gorgeous blueberry cobbler, J, a lentil bake, E, a mashed carrot-and-potato dish that seemed to be infused with dill and chives, and K, a perfectly-pureed pumpkin soup. We ate like queens and gossipped like songbirds. Looking forward to next month!
This just in: the katzerole Unix in a box:
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