crack the plates

After a week or so of mild temperatures, Richmond is once again covered in a thin blanket of snow. Looking through some old pictures today I happened upon a few from this time 2009–and a day, in particular, when I introduced my northeastern-Pennsylvania-housemate and my upstate-New-York-bred-boyfriend to a recipe direct from some of my fondest childhood memories: snowcreme. A cotton-candy-sweet mixture of fresh snow, (soy)milk, a little sugar, and a pinch of vanilla extract, all whipped up in a stainless steel bowl, snowcreme is the finest confection old man winter can offer. Behold!:

I emphasize my friends’ places-of-origin because I was so baffled by their lack of awareness of something I, a Southerner with extremely limited snow experience, so delightfully cherished. For truly, my familiarity with the stuff only extended so far as the infamous Blizzard of 1993 (which has its own wikipedia page) and fewer than a handful of other pathetic dustings. My ever-clever momma taught me about snowcreme when the blizzard hit, seeking, as she might have been, a way to distract the six restless nine-year-old girls who’d just been snowed in at my birthday party. (Yeah, the biggest meteorological event of the decade happened a day after my ninth birthday.) How could two people who grew up with seasons of snow year after year never think to whip it up in a big bowl with some cold milk, sugar, and vanilla? Heavens to betsy! I exclaimed, in my mom’s accent, I’ve got to teach these boys something!

Ever the inappropriately under-dressed, over-confident belle, I trotted out to the back porch in one of my more laughable get-ups: thin pink nightgown over pumpkin-print pajama pants, protected by a red WECI hoodie. I harvested the primo first layer of fluffy snowdust from the back-porch railing, even as new snow continued to come down. (Protip: There’s a narrow window between when the snow falls and when it gets soggy, hardened, and yucchy–so time your collection well.) Befuddled onlookers snapped shots of my work from behind the screen door:

harvesting snow

at work

As you can see in the picture, I did some of the work with the snowcreme on the back porch, feverishly whisking the snow into a sweet soymilk and vanilla base. By the time I got back in the house it was ready to be served.

I can’t quite remember how my housemate & boyfriend described their first experience, but I’m pretty sure the words “transcedent” “miraculous” “glorious” and others from their heavenly ilk flowed like honey in the kitchen conversation that day. And it didn’t hurt that I’d just made some of Isa’s pumpkin oatmeal cookies from Vegan With a Vengeance, either…

Zoomie (my housemate) delighting in cookies

…or that I decided to make a chocolate-mint version of snowcreme with Vitasoy’s Chocolate Peppermint holiday soymilk:

Lucky housemates. The feast:

Snowcreme recipe, veganized:

• Whisk some soymilk (vanilla, chocolate, or peppermint!) in the bottom of a large stainless steel bowl with a little organic vegan sugar and a dash of vanilla extract
• Go get some snow. Preferably light, fluffy, and fresh. Scrape it off into the bowl. Whisk til the mixture thickens. Grab a stainless steel spoon and start to do more stirring, less whisking. Add a bit more milk as necessary. Eat!!

Because I went to bed last night and woke up this morning with some severe stomach cramps, I decided to take today easy with light meals. No-chix noodle takes a little bit of effort, but I figured it was worth it to make my favorite soup on a day when I’m feeling so crummy. It always lifts my spirits and doesn’t cost all that much to make–especially considering what it yields. (And besides, I couldn’t very well go buy a can of Amy’s at nearly $3 a pop during NoMoCoFo, now could I?)

Ardent readers will re-call an earlier post devoted to this dish; tonight’s recipe probably wasn’t much different. Since I didn’t do the world’s best job explaining how I made it then, here’s a little guidance in the event you’d like to re-create it:

• Chop a bunch of onions, garlic, carrots and celery
• Sautee these vegetables in your cast-iron skillet with some organic herbs of choice (I pinch dried Frontier marjoram, basil, oregano, and thyme. Mostly marjoram and thyme.)
• Prepare a big pot of broth (about half-full to accomodate all the add-ins); put the burner on high to get it boiling
• Add the vegetables to the broth; bring to a boil; add a couple cups of frozen cooked chickpeas and a couple ounces of soba noodles, broken into small bits
• Meanwhile, have some large-chunk TVP reconstituting in broth in your microwave; it takes about 7 minutes in mine; check half-way to make sure there’s plenty of broth to do the job
• Once the TVP has cooled, chop it into bite-sized pieces; dump it into your hot skillet and season with tamari or Bragg’s and about a 1/3 cup nutritional yeast
• Dump seasoned TVP into pot, bring up to temperature
• Serve and enjoy!

Of course, I’m always up for questions if you do find you need help.

For dessert we mined a pomegranate for its bizarre corn-like jewels. Nate’s first time = adorable bewilderment.

Oh, and in case you were wondering, the proper way to eat a pomegranate is decadently, i.e., by the handful.