Menu Planning: The End of a Suck-ulent Week

You will be pleased to know that I will not rant, complain, sigh or otherwise indicate my GREAT displeasure with the week that has just passed. Suffice it to say that Mistakes Were Made. I will, instead, look at the good stuff: we ate our first Michigan asparagus of the year, all of the flowering trees are just popping into bloom and looking and smelling so good that it’s almost surreal, the vegetable seeds that Sam and I planted are mostly coming up, I found a fantastic bread recipe, and I got a beautiful box of lemons in the mail from Eric, in San Francisco. (About which more, later). In the TMI department, I started meditating this week and found that I can sit cross-legged for 20 minutes, and that I can keep random thoughts from intruding about 10% of the time. It may not sound like much, but my mind is a busy place, and I find that my “ohms” are frequently swept away by a recollection of the picture that was taken for my London Tube pass 24 years ago, or musings about which Netflix movie to watch.

I also found a great iGoogle widget which tells me what is in season at this time of this month in my state. It may be optimistic, but I have some evidence to support it’s claim that I should be able to find Michigan asparagus, potatoes, peas, greens, herbs and rhubarb. I have made a menu centered around those as my fresh produce items, and I’m also buying the relatively little meat we need from the meat guy at the Farmers Market (along with eggs and butter). Here’s the plan:

Saturday

Potato Enchiladas, Scalloped Apples

I found the Potato Enchilada recipe on allrecipes, and while it sounds filling, tasty and delicious, it also calls for Velveeta. That is so not happening. I will change it by making a cheese sauce out of real cheese and milk, and leave other things pretty much the same. Whole foods purists take note: I am walking a reeeeeally fine line feeding two vegetarian meals a week to people who will not willingly eat tofu, tempeh, seitan, etc., and who really need to feel that they had enough dinner. First I have to make the veggie thing work, then I can move on to making the veggie dishes really healthy.

Sunday

Pasta with Onions and Bacon, No-Knead Bread, Spinach Salad

I still have bacon ends & bits from Ma Wilson’s, and I should be able to get fresh spinach at the market. Our big Mother’s Day hoo-ha (such as it is) will be brunch at a Japanese restaurant, so dinner is just…dinner.

Monday

Jerk-Marinated Chicken Thighs, Coconut Rice, Asparagus

We were supposed to eat this last week, but we didn’t. I can’t remember why.

Tuesday

Morroccan Chicken with Green Olives & Lemon, Cous Cous, Cooked Spinach

I am hoping that Farm Guy has chicken again, planning to use a couple of my beautiful San Francisco lemons, and thinking I had better find a recipe for cooked spinach that these people will eat. Preferably one that does not involve bacon.

Wednesday

Pan-Fried Tilapia, Asparagus, Boiled Potatoes with Butter and Dill

Thursday

Burgers, Fried Potatoes, and Waldorf Salad

Meat from Farm Guy, Michigan potatoes and apples. Cheating on the celery.

Friday

Curried Cauliflower & Chickpea Stew, Jasmine Rice, Fresh Peas

A recipe from the newest “Bon Apetit,” which has about 100 recipes I’m dying to try.

No-Knead Bread

First, it’s important to distinguish No-Knead Bread from No-Need Bread. The former is a very laid back way to make bread if you have no food processor, stand mixer, bread machine or time. The latter is what you keep eating out of the little basket with a napkin in it, even though your pants are a little tight, just because it tastes really good, and look! There’s Ciabatta in there, too!

I have had this recipe forever, in many forms. It was sent to me via snail mail by an old friend, I found it again on line and bookmarked it, but I just kept losing it. Frankly, I don’t mind making bread that has to be kneaded either by hand or machine, but when this recipe appeared in my life a third time last week on someone else’s blog, I decided it was a cosmic sign.

It’s really, really good bread that emerges looking beautiful and crusty and artisanal, and tasting far more flavorful and nuanced than your average white loaf. It has real, shatter-y crust, and lots of texture. I really think you could pass it off as something from a bakery (which is fitting, since that’s where the recipe came from). Best of all, you really need nothing but a bowl, some plastic wrap, two towels and a big pot with a lid. (Well, and an oven). No hard labor, and easy clean-up.

You do, however, need to plan ahead. Including rising time (and I went with the 16 hour option on the first rise) you are looking at at least 20 hours. If you want bread for dinner at 6:00, you’re looking at starting the bread at 10:00 the night before. I would also use cornmeal, or something prettier and more interesting than flour for the final rise, as whatever you use clings to the finished loaf and effects it’s appearance.

Here’s the recipe. Don’t wait for two more people to tell you to make it.

Two Ways of Looking at a Sandwich.

Since I photograph at least 50% of what I cook and bake, just in case I might someday wish to write about it and preserve an ephemeral cupcake or casserole for posterity, my camera is always where I can easily find it. Today, however, my camera was at a Minor League baseball game with Sam, after a prolonged series of “pleaspleasepleasei’llbe caaaaaaaaareful!” attacks wore me out. It didn’t occur to me until after we had eaten what I considered to be an interesting lunch that I could have photographed it using my phone – I just scrapped the whole project when I remembered that my camera was on walkabout among a herd of sugar-addled sixth graders.

I had made really good sandwiches based on things lying around the house: leftover whole grain buns, two different kinds of cheese with hot peppers, pulled pork with barbecue sauce, an abandoned avocado…stuff like that. Mr. Annie got two giant sandwiches piled high with pork, Cabot Habanero Cheddar and avocado, and I made myself a more modest vegetarian model with no pork and a healthy pile of spicy alfalfa sprouts. Alas, these gems of thrifty husbandry were doomed to slip away (literally and figuratively), unmarked.

Later, I remembered an interesting piece I had heard on “All Things Considered” yesterday, about how people who do not enter art-related professions tend to stop drawing at some point because they “aren’t good at it.” The interviewee, a cartoonist, was advocating for lifelong drawing for everyone. I actually do still draw, not well, but for my own amusement. I am a serious doodler, and I have drawn the pictures Sam was supposed to have drawn for approximately 500 school projects.

So I drew the sandwiches.

Moosewood’s Felafel: Vegetarian Food that Carnivores Like.

So this is a photography fail because really, anyone with half a brain could have figured out that the asparagus would look better from the head end (or whatever it’s called), and that from this angle, the food would resemble a pile of fallen timber adjacent to a snow-capped and craggy land mass…possibly on the moon. What you are seeing is Felafel, Tahi-Lemon Sauce, Pita and fresh asparagus. Felafel is vegetarian, economical and delicious – a great way to work a veggie meal into a meat and potatoes family. It certainly isn’t low calorie (being fried and all) but it’s all “good” fat unless you fry it in beef tallow. I will say that Mr. Annie, not a big fan of the Seitan and Sprout genre of cuisine, thought the Felafel was delicious, and had two helpings.

Using recipes from The Moosewood Cookbook, I made both the crispy chickpea patties and the spicy Tahini-based sauce, and our adorable young friends Kristin and James dropped by with Michigan-grown asparagus they had seen for sale on the way home from “Up North” Michigan. The only hitch was the Pita; I somehow managed to buy a variety that had no actual pockets, which made the traditional Felafel sandwich somewhat tough to accomplish. Since it was tender, freshbread, I cleaned the status-post Felafel grease from my skillet and cooked the pita about a minute on each side, until it was warm, and pliable enough to be folded around golden rounds of Felafel with tart, creamy sauce. There is lots of sauce left over and I have been dipping asparagus and carrots in it.

I will try to limit myself here, but I have to say that I LOVE The Moosewood Cookbook, and have loved it for about 24 years since my intense post-college, nutty, crunchy, vegetarian period. I had never seen the “New” version of the book, which still has the recipes I used over and over, like the Miso Soup, Lentil Soup, Indonesian Rice Salad, Cashew-Ginger Sauce, Scheherezade Casserole, Samosas, and my most favorite: Gado Gado. The drawings I loved are still there, and the book has all of the good things I remember, plus a more modern approach in terms of kitchen equipment and processes. I don’t know how I lived without a copy all these years, and even though my family doesn’t share my dream of long, flowing skirts, Birkenstocks and Indian bracelets worn while whipping up batches of Mushroom Curry for my fellow Co-Op members (did I mention the “Dead” bootlegs, Pete Seeger and Reggae playing in the background?), the Felafel was a big hit. I think I can work in more Moosewood recipes as long as I avoid the blatant use of tofu.

The Mooswewood site has neither of these recipes, so I’m sharing:

Felafel

(from The New Moosewood Cookbook by Mollie Katzen)

Ingredients

1. 2 15-ounce cans chickpeas
2. 4 medium cloves garlic, minced
3. 1 tsp. Turmeric
4. 1 tsp. salt
5. 1/2 cup finely minced onion (or six scallions)
6. 1/4 c. packed parsley (I omitted this since I had forgotten to buy it)
7. 1/4 c. water
8. 1 Tbsp. lemon juice
9. A few dashes cayenne (I used a tsp.)
10. 1/3 c. flour
11. Oil for frying (I used Canola)

Directions

1. Rinse and drain chickpeas
2. Combine all ingredients but flour in a food processor (or mash in a bowl) until you have a uniform batter
3. Heat a heavy skillet and add about 3 Tbsp oil over medium-high heat
4. Add flour and stir until thoroughly combined. (You can cook them now, or store in a covered container for several days)
5. When a drop of the batter sizzles when dropped into the oil, start dropping tablespoons full into the oil, flattening with the spoon so that you have small pancakes.
6. Cook at least 5 minutes per side; the original recipe calls for 10 which I found was so long that they dried out. Try one after 5 minutes a side, and if it is crisp on the outside and still soft on the inside, you’re fine.
7. Place on paper towels or napkins to soak up grease and serve with sauce and pita.

Tahini-Lemon Sauce

(from The New Moosewood Cookbook by Mollie Katzen)

Ingredients

1. 3/4 c. sesame tahini
2. 5 Tbsp. fresh lemon juice
3. 1 medium garlic clove, minced
4. 3/4 – 1 cup water
5. Salt to taste
6. Fresh parsley (again, I didn’t have any)
7. Cayenne to taste (optional)

Directions

1. Place tahini, lemon juice and garlic in a food processor or blender. Begin to process.
2. With the motor running, add water until sauce reaches desired consistency (thinner than peanut butter, thicker than mayonnaise, in my opinion).
3. Transfer to a small bowl or container, and season with salt, parsley, and cayenne if you want a little kick. Cover and refrigerate until you’re ready.

A Proud, Michigan Salad

For as long as I’ve been aware of the designated gardening “zones” across the country, I have envisioned colored bands representing spring that swept across the United States towards Michigan, sort of like the bands of increasingly intense colors that represent storms on The Weather Channel. The bands get smaller and darker (pinker, in my mind) as they get closer to us, heading over from the West and up from the South until we see the crocuses poking up through the last of the snow, and the tight buds forming on the lilac bushes. My friends to the South and West have already had their first asparagus; ours is (according to one of my favorite farmers) about 10 days out. In anticipation of becoming the Bulls-eye of Spring, I bought everything that was a) green and b) grown in Michigan from the Farmers Market yesterday, and today I had a beautiful bowl of it for lunch.

The salad was composed of salad greens grown about five miles away, garlic scallions, sprouts, and tiny bits of Basil, Dill and Tarragon. I boiled and chopped two locally laid eggs, and made croutons from scraps of homemade bread. I dressed this concoction lightly with a couple of squeezes of lemon (alas, not from Michigan), a pinch of sea salt, and some olive oil from Lebanon.

Do try this at home.

The Farmers Market: Reunited, and it Feels So Good…..