Brunch: Mattar tofu:
It was my first attempt at Bryanna Clark Grogan’s recipe from Twenty Minutes to Dinner and it came out beautifully. Running on only a chocolate peanut-butter pillow (see below) and with something painfully stuck in my eye, I kept her honest: even making a separate pot of rice, it took less than 20 minutes to throw the whole thing together. Better still, it was one of the best iterations of the dish I’d ever had, the flavors perfectly balanced. (Only a little bit of credit goes to the superior curry blend from Frontier that I use.)
This book is especially handy because it contains recipes for traditionally dairy-based items such as ricotta cheese, cottage cheese, sour cream, cream cheese, pourable cream, melty pizza cheese, and more. If you’re a vegan or vegetarian & you’re not already familiar with Bryanna Clark Grogan, head over to her blogspot to learn more ASAP. Young, hip vegans worship Isa Chandra Moskowitz (and rightly so), but there’s no doubt that Grogan inspired even her–as a 20+ year vegan, she’s basically already successfully veganized everything. Angel Food Cake? Done. Marshmallows? No problem. Cheeses, from feta to blue? She’s figured them out. The first of her recipes I ever tried was “fresh tofu, Indian style” and it has been a favorite since college. She tests her recipes so rigorously that seemingly anything you attempt will be delicious (so long as you have the right ingredients–on rare occasion, that’s the tricky part). Highly recommended!
Now…back to that chocolate peanut butter pillow. Because we were snowed in last night, Nate & I couldn’t make it out to celebrate Earlham Animal Advocates United’s third birthday. A damn shame, too, as Jenny had prepared homemade vegan ice cream in her new maker and Suzanne wowed with red velvet cake…or was it coconut heaven? To make up for it, I finally tried out Isa’s recipe. They were surprisingly easy to make–most of the work went towards shaping the chocolate dough around the peanut butter filling. Very yummy, but two concerns: overly sweet, and only very, very soft–pillowlike!–fresh from cooling. Once stored, they became very chewy. But, really, when you’re eating a peanut butter frosting-filled chocolate cookie, neither of these issues come up.
And finally, because Richmond is in the throes of the snowpocalypse, I whisked together some snowcreme:
the raw materials
whisking
I hope you took similar advantage of the snowmageddon. Let me know!
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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!!
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