Vegan Sonoma Meat-free recipes for the veggie-loving bon vivant

Tastay

This French toast was inspired by my newfound constant craving for French toast and my perennial wish to make something J would like. Tragically, he doesn’t like sweet things for breakfast. Reasoning that French toast is pretty much just a bread omelette, I figured it shouldn’t be a problem to prepare and garnish it as such in lieu of the typical powdered sugar and maple syrup. Mind you, these days I am not quite so precise and careful at measuring things as before, so I can only give you an approximate recipe. You will have to give yourself over to that universal instinct that prevents most independently functioning people from being able to mess up French toast.

For the sauces, I served it with a few things I had on hand, including:

• Seared grape tomatoes with balsamic
• Sweet chili jam
• Sapote curry butter
• J’s tomatillo salsa

… but don’t feel limited by my choices (btw, recipe for the sapote butter is coming soon).  It would go well with pretty much anything you might use as a condiment for eggs.

Savory French Toast with Sundry Sauces (Vegetarian)

• 3 – 4 large, organic cage-free eggs
• 3 tbsp heavy cream or half & half (could also use milk if you prefer)
• 1/2 c. grated cheese (I recommend Parmesan, Cheddar, Monterey or Gruyere*)
• Salt and pepper to taste
• Dash of cayenne, if desired
• ½ loaf of French bread or baguette, sliced thickly (about 2 inch slices)
• Butter or olive oil

Preheat your oven to the Warm setting (or 200 degrees if you don’t have Warm). Have a baking sheet handy.

Crack the eggs carefully into a medium sized bowl. Break up the yolks first, then whisk in the cream briefly. Be careful not to over-whisk; over-whisking results in excessively fluffy eggs, which I can not abide. Also, you want the eggs to be extra thick and eggy for a more savory toast. Not necessarily something anyone would notice besides me, but hey. Season to taste with sea salt and pepper, and stir in about half the grated cheese, reserving the rest for topping.

Heat a large skillet on medium. When the skillet is hot, add the butter (or oil) and heat. Dunk a bread slice in the egg mixture on each side, making sure each is thoroughly saturated. Place in skillet and cook on each side until cooked through and lightly browned, approximately 3 – 5 minutes each side. I recommend cooking two or three slices at a time. When each slice is done, place on baking sheet and sprinkle with a bit of cheese. Place them in the oven to melt the cheese and keep them warm until they’re all ready to be served. Garnish with the egg dressing of your choosing and a sprinkling of parsley or basil, and enjoy! If you need ideas, the Seared Grape Tomatoes with Balsamic is quick and easy.

*Some cheeses are made with rennet, which is not vegetarian. Depending on which type and brand of cheese you use, this dish may not be 100% free of “meat.” Just saying. Gotta keep it real.

“If there’s a secret to any of the few dishes I can create, it’s simplicity. And sugar, you can never go wrong with sugar.” – Phyllis (my mother)

Sage words, indeed. Phyllis said this in response to my fanatical raving about how awesome my baked beans turned out after I used her recipe for a 4th of July party and asked her where the heck she got it from. It is a dish that she has distilled to perfection over several decades of experimentation, based on a – yes, seriously – Betty Crocker original from a cookbook that she was given as a wedding gift in the 60s. Anyway, don’t let its humble origin fool you. These beans are fantastic and if you serve them at a party, they will disappear in short order.

A word about baked beans in general. They are a Midwestern potluck and bbq staple, and as such, we must make certain allowances for their unique strategy for tastiness. I am often a little hesitant and bashful to share the ingredients of some Sweet Home recipes of mine, because people are sometimes shocked at their … pragmatism, to put it delicately. In more candid terms, what I mean is that on the West coast I think people usually assume anything delicious comes from fresh, organic, farm-raised, sustainably produced, obscure and esoteric ingredients. Not always so back at Sweet Home. See, there’s this magic, versatile substance that is a mainstay of countless classics, which can be substituted for any number of more expensive, time-consuming and unpredictable ingredients … trust me, you’d be amazed. The mystery food in question. Is.

Catsup. There, I said it.

Now, before you judge me for using catsup instead of something more bohemian (not that you would, I’m just projecting), please consider for a moment the controversial cultural origin of America’s favorite condiment. For instance, it’s been theorized that modern catsup has origins as distant and arcane as 16th century Chinese tomato and fish sauces, or possibly similar time period Indonesian, Thai or Phillipino concoctions, or even possibly 17th century European adaptations of an Arabian pickling sauce, which evolved from the Arabic term “kabeees,” anglicized to “caveach,” the term for something you might know as “escabeche.” The thing is, food and language historians can’t agree. So instead of thinking of catsup as something commonplace and American, let’s appreciate it’s exotic and mysterious properties. And further, with these potential Asian/Indo/Euro origins in mind, I’d like to postulate a theory about the genealogy of old-fashioned “American” baked beans as we now know them, and suggest that perhaps they’re not too distantly related to the beloved Indian dish known as chana masala? Think about it – the white beans, the sweet and sour sauce, the hint of spiciness? Anyway, this is how I like to think about them. Don’t talk to me about English breakfasts or Boston beans. Chana masala is my story and I’m sticking to it. The end.

So without any further ado …

Phyllis’ Old-Fashioned Baked Beans

• 1 large green bell pepper, diced
• 1 large white onion, diced
• 1 – 2 jalapeños, minced
• 2 – 3 cloves garlic, minced
• Dash of cayenne
• 6 cans navy beans (cannelinis could work too)
• Ketchup to taste (~2 tbsp
• Brown sugar to taste (~1 cup)
• Salt to taste
• 5 tbsp olive oil or butter to be used in phases (if you choose butter that renders it unvegan, obvi)

Preheat oven to 300.

Heat a large skillet on medium. When the skillet is hot, add 2 tbsp olive oil or butter. When the oil or butter is hot, add the onions, pepper and garlic, and saute until softened. Salt to taste and stir in a dash of cayenne, to taste. Set aside to combine with the beans later.

To prepare the beans for baking, in the words of Phyllis:

“I use a rectangular cake pan but it doesn’t matter. Layer 1 to 2 inches of beans, sprinkle brown sugar generously over beans.* Continue layering until you reach the amount you want. At the top, instead of brown sugar, layer catsup . Doesn’t matter how much. I’m not crazy about catsup so I don’t use lot. Bake around 300 for about 45 min or until the catsup on top is thickened and beans are hot. Salt if preferred.”

*At this juncture I should point out a couple of departures I made from Phyllis’ method. For one, when I was layering the beans and brown sugar, I also dropped in small pats of butter for each layer. When I talked to her live she told me that sometimes she does it. You could also drizzle a tiny amount of oil or vegan butter instead. This is not mandatory but does add a creamy, rich flavor.

Also, the vegetables are my own embellishment. They are not standard but intended to make up for the fact that she usually makes them with ham or bacon or both, so I wanted to add flavor to compensate for the absence of pork.

Anyhoo, after you follow Phyllis’ method of preparing the beans, when they are five minutes from fully baked, pull them out of the oven and stir in the sauteed vegetable mixture. If you like, drizzle a bit more catsup on top and then bake for another 5 minutes or so. Serve hot.

I know what you’re thinking: “Borscht? Isn’t that made with beets? BLARGH!” If so, it’s probably just because you’ve never had beets prepared well. The atrocities that are commonly committed against beets have conspired to make multiple generations of Americans despise them, and understandably so. Oh believe me, I was one of the haters. My loathing of beets was so deep and profound that when I was given the opportunity to travel to Russia as a teenager in the 90s, my fear of having to eat beets was one of my top concerns, surpassing all of the following: fear of being in a country without speaking the language, fear of flying for 20 hours, fear of being separated from my family for the longest period of time so far, fear of visiting our notorious Cold War enemy, and fear of living with another family that I’d never met. Mind you, while I was there I learned how stupid that was, not just because beets are actually awesome if you know what to do with them, but because obviously there were plenty more valid things to be terrified about in post-Soviet Russia than my naive adolescent mind could ever have fathomed prior to my travels there. Of course there were also equally as many things to be moved and amazed by as well. Which brings me to …

A brief back story for the interested (all others, feel free to skip to the recipe)

So, back in 1993 I was part of a group of teenage students who participated in an exchange program to Russia about one year after the dissolution of the Soviet Union.We stayed in a town called Izhevsk, and at the time that we visited, Izhevsk had been closed to foreign travel for 70 years due to its strategic importance to the USSR (there was a huge munitions plant located there). Hence, when we arrived, we were the first non-Russians that most of Izhevsk’s people had ever seen. Which may seem like a trivial detail, but let me explain what that translated to: Our presence there was such a marvel that our agenda was published in newspapers and on TV every day. What that resulted in was that everywhere we 15 adolescent Americans went, we were met with an ever-growing crowd of passionate Russian youths who saw us as harbingers of progress. I could go on and on here about the people I met, the gifts I was given, the lessons I learned, the heartbreak I experienced (these new friends of ours had some tough political times ahead of them, the likes of which few US citizens I know have ever had to face –  plus we were all fairly new to the concept of suffering and injustice and economic hardship. Not to mention, most of these new friends we would never see again). But I shan’t go on about that. If you want to know more, email me and I’ll share. What I will say is that the group I was part of was a brave, sensitive, intelligent and talented group, and yet, as we prepared for our travels, we had NO idea what was in store for us. And that being the case, with all of us being teenagers, and  with all of us hating beets, we took it upon ourselves to learn one essential Russian phrase, so universal to us it instantaneously reached permanent inside joke status: Nyet svekla. Translation: “No beets.” The one who conceived and coined the phrase will forever hold a place in my heart for her comic wit, resourcefulness and candor.

That said (and I think she’d agree), looking back on the scenario and knowing what I know now, I can’t imagine ever saying something like this to someone from Russia. But from the perspective of my teenage self, the concept seemed sheer genius and hilarity. When we did utter it to Russians, we were met with a quizzical furrow of the brow that was probably akin to how Americans would respond if a generally non-English speaking Russian teen were to enthusiastically proclaim “Decline potato!” – a reaction which would be a mixture of equal parts “Um, what?” and “Really? Why?”

In any case, “nyet svekla” being our eminently confident attitude, you can imagine our astonishment when we were unwittingly fed a mysterious, unbelievably delicious pink soup and then later learned it was the dreaded borsht, aka beet soup, we’d feared so much. How could this be?!?! For starters, we’d made it very clear – we wanted NO SVEKLA. But more than that, how could svekla be so damn tasty? Mmmmm. What else is in it? Can I get the recipe? And the people I’d baffled with my broken Russian, unnatural aversion to beets and weird American clothes were filled with glee.

Although the following is not the original Russian recipe, it is the closest one I’ve found to the soup I was first fed that made me such a pro-svekla devotee. So please give it a chance – I think you’ll be glad you did.

Russian Borscht

• 1 c. potato, thinly sliced
• 1 c. beets, thinly sliced
• 4 – 6 c. water (to your desired soupiness/thickness)
• 1 – 2 tbsp olive oil or butter
• 2 c. onion
• 1 tsp caraway seeds
• 1 stalk celery, chopped
• 1 carrot, sliced
• 3 c. shredded cabbage (a little less than half a head)
• 1 tsp fresh dill (plus extra for garnish)
• 1 – 2 tbsp cider vinegar
• 1- 2 tbs honey
• 1 c. tomato paste
• Salt and pepper to taste
• Sour cream and dill for garnish

In a large sauce pan, place potatoes, beets and water and cook over medium heat until tender (~20 – 30 minutes).

Meanwhile, melt the oil/butter in a Dutch oven on medium heat. Add onion, caraway seeds and salt. Cook, stirring regularly, until onions are translucent (~8 – 10 minutes).

Add celery, carrots and cabbage, plus ~2 cups of the cooking water from the potatoes and beets. Cover and cook over medium heat until the vegetables are tender (~10 minutes).

Add the remaining ingredients (including all the potato and beet water), cover and simmer for 15 – 30 minutes more. Taste to correct seasonings. Serve hot with a dollop of sour cream and dill to taste.

First of all, I invite you to follow me on Twitter @zdoerck for my 140 character version of this recipe and more to come. For those of you who are seeing this on Facebook, apologies for the redundancy.

This is an adaptation of a Pakistani recipe from The Spice Spoon (bonus: contains charming nostalgic reflection upon author’s childhood experience). My modifications include doubling the onion, adding garlic, cayenne and red chili flakes, and cooking stovetop instead of baking. You certainly can bake it if you prefer, but I find the eggs cook more uniformly on the stove, and it is also easier to avoid over-cooking them. You could also use any form of chili you like – a bit of minced jalapeño or serrano would be lovely in place of the dry chili seasonings.

Spicy Baked Eggs

• 4 cage-free organic eggs
• 2 tbsp olive or grapeseed oil
• 4 medium tomatoes, blanched, peeled and diced
• ½ onion
• Pinch turmeric
• Pinch cayenne
• 1 – 2 cloves garlic
• Red chili flakes to taste
• Salt and pepper to taste
• Chopped cilantro for garnish

Blanch tomatoes for one or two minutes. When skins begin to break, plunge into cold water to stop the cooking. Peel off the skins and dice the tomatoes.

Heat oil on medium heat in medium sized skillet. When the oil is hot, add the onion and sauté until translucent. Stir in the tomato and spices and cook, stirring frequently, for about 5 – 7 minutes.

Place the raw eggs on top of the tomato mixture. To ensure no broken yolks or eggshell, I would recommend cracking each egg into a small bowl and carefully placing them on the mixture one at a time. Incidentally, did you know that some chefs recommend cracking your egg on a hard, flat surface rather than an edge, to ensure more even cracking? I’ve tried it and it does seem to yield better results …

Once the eggs are in place, cover and leave them to cook. Check back in about 12 to 15 minutes – if you prefer runny yolks, 15 to 17 minutes is probably all you need; for more solid yolks, you may need about 20 minutes.

Garnish with cilantro and serve immediately with naan or pita.

Infographic: What are we pickling at 4 am? Mm-hm.

In my defense. Many of you are already well familiar with my chronic 4 am insomnia, which can nearly always be traced to a violent allergy attack, though sometimes I just wake up at 4 am for no particular reason, I guess out of sheer habit. According to my mother, this has been happening since before I could read. At this point in my life I am far beyond being angry or annoyed about it; I’d describe my attitude about it these days as existentially fatigued resignation. Mind you, this hasn’t always been the case. When I was young and restless and didn’t know any better, I used to get out of bed and write feverishly in my journal all night, or sneak out of the house to do god-knows-what (honestly, I don’t remember, but I’m sure it was nerdy and emo). Later in life, frustrated at the injustice of my plight, I would simply toss and turn, in vain hopes of returning to sleep (which wouldn’t ever happen until around 6:30 am, about a half hour before it was time for me to get up). In recent years, due to the advent of smart phones, I have become more zen and used those quiet solitary hours between 4 and 7 to read random things on the internet, which has helped me stay current on important topics like the feeding habits of deep-sea frilled sharks and the etymology of the ampersand.

In a strange new twist, however, the last several times I’ve woken up at 4 am, I have been overcome with the desire to cook something. Through the first few episodes I managed to resist the impulse, yielding to the voice in my head that said “Really? You know how nutty that sounds, right?” Ultimately, however, my urge to do something with the fresh chanterelles aging in my refrigerator won out. Hence, these pickled delights.

This recipe isn’t my invention; I gaffled it from Chez Pim, who adapted it from someone else. In any case, I stand by it as a great way to preserve your chanterelles or any mushrooms you might have on hand. Whip them up, chill overnight, and then serve them as a tapa, use them as a condiment with your favorite neutral entree, pile them on top of a sandwich, toss them into a salad, or just nom them alone.

Pickled Chanterelles (Vegan)

• 1 lbs mushroom
• 2 large shallots, sliced into thin rounds
• 3 large garlic cloves, peeled and sliced into rounds
• 1/2 tbsp whole coriandar seeds, lightly toasted
• 1/2 tbsp black pepper, coarsely ground
• 1/4 c. golden raisins
• 1/2 c. cider vinegar
• 1/2 c. of olive oil
• 1/2 tsp  sea salt

Clean the chanterelles by brushing them or wiping them with a damp cloth. If they are super dirty, go ahead and just rinse them in cold water.  Pat them dry and cut them into medium pieces.

Bring a large pot of water to a boil, add the mushrooms to the pot and let boil for 1 minute, then remove from heat.  With a slotted spoon, scoop them into a colander, being careful to leave any dirt that boiled off in the pan.  Run cold water over the mushrooms to stop them cooking, and leave them to drain.

Heat another pot on medium and add a bit of the olive oil. When the oil is hot,  add the garlic and shallots and cook, stirring constantly, over medium to low heat until the shallots are translucent.  Add the pepper, coriandar, raisins, vinegar, olive oil, and salt.  Stir to blend and bring to a simmer.

Add the blanched mushrooms, stir to blend and remove from heat.  Transfer the mushroom into a glass or ceramic container.  Cover and let them rest in the fridge for 24 hours before using.

The choice between making these as croustades or as stuffed mushroom caps depends on whether you want them to be vegan (croustade shells are not vegan) and/or whether you happen to have any croustade shells handy. In my case, I did just so happen to have some handy as the result of discovering these puppies at Ikea (weird, eh?) and stockpiling about 5 dozen of them like the freakshow that I am. Also I did not have enough mushrooms to do caps. Hence, the croustades you see pictured at right.

Note that you also have a further choice in whether or not to use vegan cream cheese or make a non-vegan goat cheese version. Obviously the goat cheese version is much richer and tangier, but they are both super tasty and perfect as a party appetizer.

Lastly, I garnished these with sauteed porcini mushrooms, but you can garnish them with any kind of mushroom, or chives, or parsley, or whatever floats your boat. If you have access to porcini, I’d say spring for them – they are a bit pricey but you only need about 1/10th of a pound (2 or 3 small ones). Note: Take care when selecting porcini – avoid any with soggy, yellow or greenish parts, and inspect them for holes or little trails – unfortunately, they can be wormy.

Stuffed Mushrooms or Mushroom Croustades

• 2 tbsp olive oil
• 1/2 lb baby bella mushrooms OR 1 lb if you’re making stuffed mushrooms (Note that each version requires different mushroom preparation – see below)
• 1/4 c. chopped parsley
• 2 – 3 large garlic cloves, minced
• 1 shallot, chopped
• Cheese – either:
• 8 oz vegan cream cheese, OR
• 4 oz goat cheese and 4 oz regular cream cheese
• 1/4 tsp cayenne
• Sea salt and ground pepper, to taste
• 1 – 2 tbsp minced chives, for garnish (optional)

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees and set out the cheese to soften. Clean the mushrooms with a damp cloth or mushroom brush.

If you’re making the croustades, slice the mushrooms in about 1/4 inch thick slices, reserving 2 orf 3 big ones for garnish (or you could use the stems), if desired. If you’re making stuffed mushroom caps, break the stems from the caps and chop the stems coarsely, taking care to slice off and discard any tough ends. Set the caps aside.

Heat a large skillet on medium. When the skillet is hot, add the oil. When the oil is hot, add the shallot and garlic and saute for a minute or so, stirring constantly. Add the mushroom slices and cook for about 2 minutes, stirring regularly. After a couple minutes, cover, stirring occasionally, until the mushrooms have juiced (3 – 5 minutes or so). When they’ve juiced, remove cover and continue to cook, stirring regularly until the juice is reabsorbed (1 – 2 minutes).

Transfer to a food processor or blender and pulse the mushrooms a  couple times until they’re a quasi-duxelles. (Yeah, okay, I just really wanted to use that word. Color me ostentatious.) Add the cheese and cayenne and pulse a few more times until well blended. Stir in the parsley and season with salt and pepper to taste.

Spoon mixture into croustade shells or mushroom caps (it will probably fill around 2 dozen or so; if you have filling left over, serve it as a dip or use it as a spread). Place them on a baking sheet and bake them in the oven, 5 to 8 minutes for the croustades. For the caps, oil the baking sheets before adding the caps. Bake them for about 12 – 15 minutes or so (basically until the caps are tender), but keep an eye on the filling so it doesn’t burn.

While that’s baking, if you want to make a mushroom garnish, coarsely chop the remaining mushrooms or mushroom bits and saute quickly in olive oil with a bit of garlic, following the directions above. Salt to taste and spoon onto the tops of the baked croustades, and/or sprinkle with chives.

Serve immediately.

Let’s face it. There are times in life when you have no choice but to eat a delicious omelet. Unless you’re strictly vegan, in which case there may be times when you have no desire to eat a delicious omelet but would certainly still enjoy a nice tofu scramble. If that’s the case, I promise you I will post a vegan alternative to the aforementioned omelet one of these days. Promise. Pro. Mise.

In the meantime, however, all I have is this totally non-vegan omelet, with nothing to say for myself except that I love this omelet.

Actually, I do have one more thing to say for myself, which is that we went on a lovely trip to the Russian River for the 4th of July holiday this past weekend, and stayed with our friends Ben and Harley and Harley’s awesome parents at their river house. And the house was full of animal products all weekend. And everyone had brought more eggs than anyone knew what to do with. And we had a house full of hungry friends each morning. And we had me, always wanting to cook something that will make everybody happy. And me, always one to throw rules to the wind for festive reasons. And me, additionally harboring twice as many mushrooms as I knew what to do with. And so I invented this omelet. I was forced to really, I had no choice. I couldn’t let all those eggs and mushrooms and potential omelets go to waste, could I?

But why am I being an omelet apologist? You don’t have time for that. You have a fantastic omelet to devour, and now I’m just standing in your way. So onward. The omelet. Let the fruits of our Independence Day revelry live on.

Mushroom Leek Omelet

The filling

• 1 leek, thoroughly cleaned, sliced
• 8 oz baby bella (cremini) or chanterelle mushrooms, sliced in 1/4 inch slices
• 2 tbsp olive oil (Note: If you’re not opposed, replacing the oil with butter makes it extra delicious. I know, I’m miserable at being vegan.)
• 1 c. fresh corn from the cob (canned or frozen also works)
• Salt to taste
• 1/4 c. shredded gruyére (optional)

For the filling. Heat a medium sized pan on medium to medium high. When hot, add oil. Once the oil is hot, add the leeks, stirring to cover thoroughly with oil. (If you’re using butter, let the butter melt completely before adding leek.) Saute a while, stirring often, until leek begins to soften, about 2 or 3 minutes. Add mushrooms and stir to coat with oil. Continue to cook for another minute, stirring regularly. Cover, and leave the mixture a while for the mushrooms to juice, about 2 or 3 minutes more, stirring occasionally. When the mushrooms have juiced, remove cover. Add corn and cook another 2 or 3 minutes, being mindful that the leeks and mushrooms don’t overcook. Add salt to taste. Remove from heat to a bowl.

For the omelet. Crack the eggs into a medium sized mixing bowl, being careful to remove any bits of shell that may get involved. Add a bit of water (or milk, if that’s what you’re using); approximately 1/8 to 1/4 cup. Whisk briskly until mixture is fairly uniform, being careful not to over whisk. (Whisking eggs too long introduces bubbles and can make them intolerably fluffy. Just my humble opinion.)

Heat a large skillet on medium high, add oil. When oil is hot, pour in one half of the egg mixture slowly (my brilliant friend Ben ladles it in with a 1/4 c. measuring cup, letting the egg solidify as he adds the mixture). This part of the omelet takes omelet talent. Let the egg cook through on bottom, occasionally tipping the pan to let any liquid reach the edge of the pan.

When the egg mixture seems mostly cooked through, spoon about half of the mushroom filling in the middle of the omelet. (Note: Eyeball it to make sure the amount of filling makes sense. Too much filling is a common source of fallen omelets.)

Allow the omelet to cook just a bit longer, and if you’re using the cheese, now would be the time to sprinkle it in. Flip one side of the omelet over to cover the other. If you are omelet-inept, using a combination of a spatula and spoon may be advisable. Beyond that, all I can tell you is that omelets take practice and finesse. But if your omelet falls, don’t despair. It tastes the same, no matter what shape it’s in.

When you have folded over the omelet, cook on each side until slightly browned.

Voila. So there’s my favorite omelet.

So. I adapted this from a recipe I found in an aphrodisiac cookbook that I bought at the Haight Street Goodwill in San Francisco. Man, does that sound smarmy!!! Honestly, I wasn’t trying to be creepy by buying a (used – ewww!) aphrodisiac cookbook, it just so happened to be focused on a number of my favorite ingredients: mushrooms, avocado, asparagus, artichokes, chili pepper, etc. Are all these foods aphrodisiacs? Color me skeptical. Meanwhile, if you’re wondering why I was at the Haight Street Goodwill, it’s because I had fled to San Francisco to visit my bestie while J was gone in an attempt to take my mind off his absence. And I just so happened to be in the Haight. And I love thrift stores. And if you’re wondering why I made this so-called aphrodisiac recipe while J was gone, it was because I wanted to see if it was any good before spending the time to make it for both of us. Not for aphrodisiac purposes, mind you, just for dinner. Come on people, my parents might be reading this! Anyway, don’t judge me. Eat some flower ravioli and give peace a chance.

Fresh Flower Ravioli

• 24 wanton wraps (Note: Wanton wraps are not vegan.)
• 8 c. vegetable broth
• 8 oz edible flowers, chopped, stems removed (They sell these in the herb section at most organic markets and also often at farmer’s markets.)
• 2 tbsp basil sliced width-wise (This is called a chiffonade, in case you’re interested.)
• Water in a small prep bowl (You will use this to seal the ravioli with your fingertips.)
• 1 tbsp melted butter or a bit of olive oil (if desired)
• Additional herbs if desired
• Grated Parmesan to taste

Have the bowl of water nearby. Take a wanton wrap and arrange a small amount of the herbs & blossoms in the center (about a teaspoon or a pinch or two). Fold the wrap over to form a triangle pouch around the flowers. Dip your fingers in water and press the wrap edges firmly together. Run your finger along the edges to seal them. Fold the outer corners inwards if necessary to create a good seal (it will look a bit like a wanton – hey, that’s why they call them wanton wraps). Repeat this until you have about 24 triangles (creates two servings).

Meanwhile, boil the vegetable broth in a large pot. When the broth is boiling, drop in 12 triangles and boil for about three minutes. Lift out quickly with a slotted spoon. Repeat with the remaining triangles. When the triangles are done, you may brush them with melted butter or olive oil using a basting brush, if desired. Season with sea salt and ground black pepper to taste. Sprinkle with grated Parmesan.

Hi. This a not a shining moment for me, but because you are my very favorite blog readers, I am going to share it with you. As some of you may know, J is gone on tour for the month of May. As some of you may also know, although I am tremendously proud of him and happy that he is such a talented musician he gets to do cool things like tour Europe with Matmos, I am kind of a mess without him. My state of disrepair is not his fault, mind you – it’s mine, just so we’re clear. And he feels really bad about me being sad, so I try not to be too much of a drama queen. But alas, that goes so much against my nature. What can I say, I’m expressive.

Those of you who have seen it before will recognize the telltale signs of my month-long discombobulation. The syndrome is characterized by a number of things I am somewhat embarrassed of, but for which I shan’t apologize, because, well, it ain’t easy being green. The first and most obvious is my instantaneous insomnia (markedly worse than usual). The second is my profound lack of motivation to do anything productive (eg, go jogging, go to the post office, dust, read a book, etc). The third, and most relevant to you, my beloved blog audience, is that I have absolutely no desire to cook anything at all. For starters, J is my taster and second opinion – I feel blind without him. Then there’s the fact that it can be very difficult to cook for only one person – how do you not have way too many leftovers? Then there’s also the fact that one of my big motivators in cooking is the thought, “I want to make something delicious for J because he’s so rad!” So anyway. All of that. Which is why I haven’t developed anything new lately. Except for the 90 Second Tomato Quesadilla, of course.

Which brings me to the not-shining moment I referenced before. Since J’s been gone, I have been eating lots of junk food, including lots of cheese, and even seafood (vegans, please don’t be angry with me!). But some good has come of it. Allow me to introduce the 90 Second Tomato Quesadilla, which has been my dinner staple for more evenings than I’d like to admit. And yes, you really can make it in 90 seconds or less. It’s not hard at all. In fact, it’s so easy, it’s probably kind of silly for me to try to float it by as a “recipe.” Also, I’m sure most, if not all of you, know how to make a quesadilla. But do you know how to make it in 90 seconds or less? Um … anyway, I’m just hoping someone can benefit from my tribulations.

90 Second Tomato Quesadilla

(Makes one-is-the-loneliest-number quesadilla. I recommend doubling the ingredients and making at least two per person. Not just for metaphorical reasons, but because you’ll probably want more than one if you’re using the small tortillas, as recommended.* And naturally, if you’re serving more than one person, multiply accordingly.)

• 1 half small vine-ripened or heirloom tomato, sliced and the slices halved (Do you have to use vine-ripened or heirloom? Well, it’s up to you, obviously, but I think they are more flavorful than other tomatoes.)
• 1/4 c. shredded Monterey Jack cheese (Did you know it was spelled with only one “r”? Or that its inventor is disputed? Color me surprised, I always thought it was named for a different Monterrey.)
• 1 small tortilla (~5 or 6 inch diameter) – I like Whole Foods Red Chile tortillas
• 1/4 sliced avocado, sprig or two of chopped cilantro and salsa to taste, if desired

If you do this all in an incredibly efficient fashion, I promise you it won’t take longer than 90 seconds; in fact, it will probably only take about a minute. However, if you’re slicing avocado or chopping cilantro, I would anticipate that could potentially add up to a minute or so. And if you’re serving multiple people, then the 90 second thing kind of breaks down. Truly, this is a quesadilla designed for solitude.

Shred about 1/4 c. of Monterey Jack cheese with a grater. Place the tortilla on a microwave safe plate and sprinkle the cheese in a circle in the middle, leaving about 1/2 inch border between the cheese and the edge of the tortilla. Pop it in the microwave for 35 seconds.

Meanwhile, rinse your tomato and cut a few slices. Halve them, and they’re ready to place in your quesadilla. This would also be the time to slice your avo or chop your cilantro (if you hadn’t done so in advance).

When the tortilla with cheese is done in the microwave, place the pieces of tomato in the middle. This is also when you would place the avo and cilantro, if desired.

Fold up like a mini-burrito, and serve immediately. (Don’t dally; they’re not very good cold.)

Photo property of Williams-Sonoma

You might have noticed a recurring theme. I’m way batty for mushrooms.

This time I decided to break away from my normal preferred mushroom cooking method and try something different. It’s a slight adaptation of a gem from my home skillet Billy S and certainly an easy way to cook mushrooms if for some reason you find it impractical to saute them on the stove top. The only thing is that I’m not sure if there’s any real advantage to preparing your mushrooms en papillote, other than to sound French, impress Martha Stewart or delight your guests with mushrooms from a paper bag. Some say that this method is healthier because it cuts down on the amount of oil you cook with, but a) you’re replacing it with butter or margarine; and b) cooking mushrooms stove top doesn’t really call for all that much oil. So I don’t know what that’s about. One thing I can say is that cooking your mushrooms this way will result in slightly softer, less browned mushrooms, so if you’re trying to control texture and presentation, that could be a reason to choose the papillote method.

Three important departures from the Billy Sonoma version that I’ve included here: 1) Omitted the parsley because I was serving them in an arugula salad and didn’t need the extra bitterness; 2) After steaming them in the parchment for about 10 minutes, I opened up the bag to dry them out a bit, because they had produced quite a bit of moisture, as we all know our fungus friends are wont to do; 3) Added red pepper flakes, because you know I love the spicy, yo.

One last thing. If you’re wondering where you can get your hands on some parchment, you can find it in most grocery stores in the aisle with aluminum foil and wax paper.

Wild Mushrooms en Papillote

• 1 tbsp vegan butter or unsalted butter, plus 1 tbsp vegan butter or unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
• 1 lb mushrooms, brushed clean – I used shiitake, trumpet and almond mushroom (random farmer’s market find), but you could use any combination of mushrooms you like
• 1/2 tsp ground sea salt
• 1/4 tsp freshly ground pepper
• Red pepper flakes, to taste
• 1 tsp fresh lemon juice

Preheat an oven to 375°F.

Cut parchment paper into an 18-by-11-inch rectangle. Fold the rectangle in half crosswise. Open the parchment and coat with the 1 tbsp butter. Place the rectangle, buttered side up, on a baking sheet.

Cut the mushrooms into bite-size pieces and place in a bowl. Add the salt, pepper, butter pieces, lemon juice and toss well. Spread the mushrooms over one half of the prepared parchment paper. Fold the other half of the parchment rectangle over the mushrooms and fold the vertical edges over twice, working your way along the edge of the paper to end with a twist on both ends. Place the package on a rimmed baking sheet.

Bake until the parchment packet is puffed and the mushrooms are cooked through, about 10 – 12 minutes. At that point, do a progress check – have they thoroughly juiced? If so, go ahead and carefully open up the parchment and return them to the oven for another 1 – 3 minutes to dry out any lingering liquids. Transfer the parchment packet to a platter and serve immediately. (Or, if you’re making a salad, add them to the salad and serve immediately. More on the salad coming soon.)