Wednesday Food Blogging

Chocolate Chip and Pecan Cinnamon Rolls

Hot, gooey cinnamon rolls.

One more moment of decadence before the new year, I told myself this morning, tossing everything but the kitchen sink in these cinnamon rolls. Chocolate chips, brown sugar, pecans, cinnamon...all the good things in life. Plus a little whole wheat, just so you don't turn into a pillar of salt or anything.

With one extra girl in the house (Daughter Number Two's friend from the States) we had plenty of takers for these hot rolls. You could serve them with frosting drizzled over them, as pictured, or try maple syrup. Either way, they'll be gone before you can pour yourself a second cup of tea.

For directions, see below.

Carrot, Orange and Apple Juice

Sunshine in a glass

Tired of holiday excess already? I am. What with all the party food, and Christmas dinner, and leftovers of each, I'm ready for less. Less gravy, less sauce, less frosting, less fat and calories and sugar and yes, even spice.

So today I tried out my new juicer. It's incredibly easy to use. In minutes, I had an orangey drink, full of health and vitality and not a drop of excess.

This glass of juice contains two carrots, a green apple, and a peeled, segmented orange. That's all.

I feel better already.

Mince Tarts

Hopefully, it’s not too late to make these for Christmas!

The other day at the farm shop I bought a specialty jar of mincemeat, which these days isn’t made with meat. I wanted to surprise the girls with these mince tarts, but I didn’t want to go to the trouble of making mincemeat. The mincemeat filling was delicious, but you won’t have the same luck I did finding this farm shop (the same one where I bought gorgeous poinsettias and a Christmas tree). Buy the best mincemeat you can find, or make your own.

They bake up in just 15 minutes, and only take a few minutes to prepare, especially when you use store-bought mincemeat. (A food processor makes quick work of the dough.) So maybe there's still time to make a batch for Christmas!

Buckeyes (recipe later)

Dark chocolate Buckeyes

I'm having a party tomorrow, and I don't have time to post a recipe today, but I just wanted to show you what's in my living room. These Buckeyes, made with dark chocolate and peanut butter, are worth whatever time you'll spend in hell for consuming them.

I've been baking and cooking and cleaning all week, which is why I've been rather quiet on the blog. Today I made this, and I can't wait to cut it tomorrow. My living room, where I'm storing goodies since the radiators are turned off, smells like chocolate, and every now and then I open the door and get a hit.

I'll post a recipe for these later, I promise. I basically improvised from a lot of online recipes for buckeyes, using dark chocolate and margarine instead of butter, and less powdered sugar. My husband, who, when he cooks does it very well, made the candy-that-has-no-name, made with melted chocolate, butterscotch morsels, chow mein noodles, and peanuts. He makes this every year, to our girls' delight. Don't tell them; they're coming home on Sunday and will be surprised.

If there's any left.

Greens Restaurant, Manchester

Deep Fried Oyster Mushrooms with Chinese Pancakes and Plum Sauce

When I mentioned to my husband that I wanted to go to TV chef Simon Rimmer's vegetarian restaurant in Manchester, he replied that would be no problem—he had an upcoming conference in Manchester and we could stay overnight and visit the restaurant. (Manchester is almost a 200 mile drive or a two hour train ride from here.) Great. The conference was in December, he said, but then I found out he meant next December.

So I waited another year, and was rewarded, finally, with a visit to the once-industrial city of Manchester, home of Man United, and to Greens Restaurant, home of delicious vegetarian food.

The wait was worth it. I had my doubts—previous experiences with veggie restaurants in the UK had made me skeptical. And Simon Rimmer isn't a vegetarian himself.

But he does apply an innovative approach to vegetarian cooking, at least with a couple of the dishes we ordered. Sadly, there were only a few vegan dishes on the menu. I didn't ask if others could be made vegan, I was happy to order the deep fried oyster mushrooms as a starter, which came with Chinese wraps, plum sauce and green sticks of cucumber. The oyster mushrooms had a crunchy texture, which made them a surprising—and delicious—alternative to mock duck in similar dishes. My only regret was that I ran out of wrappers before I ran out of mushrooms. One more wrapper would have evened things out.

The carrot soup my husband got stood out in particular contrast to the carrot soup I had in Paris. Sorry, score one for the English. They do know their root veg.

For a main dish, I ordered a pumpkin and aubergine curry. It was good, though curry seems to be a ubiquitous vegan choice on UK menus. My husband ordered the vegetarian black pudding. I'm not sure if it the sausage was vegan, but the bite I had would definitely convince a carnivore of the error of his ways—black pudding, for those of you uninitiated in the ways of entrails, is blood sausage. It was served with smoky tomato sauce, butter beans and cannelini beans over toasted brioche. (This, without the brioche, probably could have been made vegan easily.) Complete with mushrooms, it was reminiscent of the ever-popular "full English breakfast", an appreciation for which I have not developed, mainly because I can't fathom the concept of beans, mushrooms, and tomatoes for breakfast. Dinner, though, is a fine occasion to serve such fare.

Desserts were small, a tiny apple and cinnamon crumble for me and crème brûlée for him, enhanced by a glass of Armagnac. Fortunately, neither of us were hungry, so the idea of paying £5 for such small puddings didn't cause our jaws to drop.

Afterward, I had a discussion with the Canadian server about the state of vegetarian eating in the UK. She agreed that North America has surpassed Europe when it comes to vegetarian, and particularly vegan, eating—Rimmer's restaurant being a noteworthy exception to the overly "healthy" approach most veggie restaurants seem to take toward vegetarianism. We like to indulge as much as the next person, especially when eating out. No need to spare the salt and extra-virgin olive oil when cooking for us, and although we may wear acrylic jumpers and pleather boots, we don't like mushy veg any more than your kids do. Those deep fried mushrooms—now, that's the idea!

I'd like to see more effort put toward the vegan side of things, but otherwise, Greens was definitely worth a trip to Manchester. If you go, make a reservation for 6:30 and arrive at 6:15 in time to snag one of the few parking spaces on the street. Stay in your car until 6:30, though, when on-street parking is allowed. Although West Didsbury is only 4.5 miles from the city centre, you'll have to leave an hour early due to the massive traffic in Manchester.

•Greens Restaurant, 43 Lapwing Lane, West Didsbury, 0161 434 4259

Chickpea and Spinach Soup

I seem to be all about soup these days. But I couldn't resist adding to the soup recipes here with this one, one of the best I've had, I must say, despite how simple it is to make. I made it last weekend, when I had a friend visiting. She'd been feeling poorly and I didn't expect her to eat dinner, but the smells from the kitchen perked her right up. Soup, and a piece of homemade bread dunked in olive oil, are guaranteed cures for whatever ails you.

There were two bowls leftover, which we had when we returned from Paris. Even better three days later, this time with fresh baked foccacia.

Sunday Morning Ketchup

Time to catch up on my food news, and Sunday morning is always an excellent time to do that.

Restrictions? Call it possibilities instead! Via Too Many Chefs, this article on how dietary restrictions  (particularly within the Jain community and the Jewish kosher tradition) being the inspiration for delicious recipes is worth a read, particularly if you've wondered what it is exactly that Jains eat. And as Barrett wrote at TMC, becoming vegetarian and especially vegan has forced me, in a good way, to become much more innovative in the kitchen.

Beets have more than one use, it appears. And according to many people, pouring them on the roads would be a fine use for beets. (Beets—beetroot, rather—are (is) much more common, and presumably, appreciated, on European plates than on American plates.) If you'd like to put beets to a more culinary use, try Beet Salad with Horseradish and Fried Capers.

From the NY Times, the deep-fried truth about food miles.

I saw this interesting site linked at Roxanne's (I think): Foodpairing. I never knew durian and asparagus were made for each other.

I have decided to train the dog to sniff truffles. Who knows, we could find a fortune: Giant truffle sets record price.

The Guardian gives us, finally, a vegetarian Christmas (vegan too!). And for dessert, try this Chocolate Orange Cake.

And finally, in Sunday ketchup news: Organic ketchup is better for you, containing three times more lycopene. (I'm also told that adding avocado to your salsa helps you absorb 400 percent more lycopene.)

Vegetarian in Paris, Part Deux

Le Grenier de Notre-Dame, located on a quiet little street a block from Notre Dame cathedral.

The first time was serendipity. The second, quite deliberate.

During our last visit to Paris, my husband and I happened upon Le Grenier de Notre Dame purely by chance. I wrote about that experience here, a post which gets lots of Google hits from people searching for vegetarian restaurants in Paris—not willing, apparently, to depend upon serendipity to guide them.

So, I was eager to return and see what had changed at Le Grenier in the last two years. The answer was, not much. Upon walking in, I felt right at home. Standing behind the counter were the same waiter, the same owner, an open iBook in front of him (perhaps reading my review?). The same intimate interior, decorated, again, for Christmas. The menu seemed familiar too, though I had a hard time reading it (unfortunately, a vegan diet doesn’t improve the vision). There seemed to be an English description of the plats written, inexplicably, in white type underneath the French version. There were helpful photos, however, for the vision and language impaired.

I ordered L’Escalope de Seitan, a tender piece of breaded and lightly fried seitan. My husband got the paella and our friend ordered Moroccan couscous, served in a proper tagine. We also ordered a couple of starters, and aperitifs of Champagne and kir. The food was wonderful, quickly warming us up on a cold Parisian night, and the atmosphere was equally warm. When we discovered our table candle was fake (a Phillips safety candle) the waiter came over and demonstrated how it worked. By this time, the wine had had its effect and I dissolved in giggles. I guess you had to be there.

The place seems to be popular with Americans, as the other diners all spoke with American accents. We met an old friend of my daughter’s there, a student now living in Paris, who confirmed how difficult it is to get a vegetarian meal in France. Since eating animal products contributes in such a major way to global warming, it’s a shame that more restaurants don’t make it easier to eat lower on the food chain.

Meanwhile, there’s Le Grenier de Notre Dame, and a few others in Paris that cater to vegetarians and vegans.

The next night, after a miserable rainy afternoon, I dragged my husband from a warm hotel room to Le Potager du Marais in Les Halles, near the George Pompidou Centre. I didn’t know it until we arrived, but they serve food all day, a rarity in Paris. We could have gone earlier when we were wandering aimlessly around the district, but instead we waited until shortly after 7 p.m., showing up without reservations. Not a good idea, although they did find room for us at a table reserved for later. The restaurant has one long row of tables, jammed next to each other, seating about 25. You’re forced to sit right next to other diners, a common occurrence in tiny European restaurants. Don’t let that deter you; French diners are very quiet. Still, it’s a little disconcerting to have to pull out the table in order to squeeze in.

The menu at Le Potager is almost all vegan, with a few non-vegan plats. The carrot soup I started with was nothing special—I suspect they simply juiced some carrots and heated the whole thing. For our mains, I had the nut roast, served with under-cooked potatoes, and my husband had a lukewarm gratin of root vegetables. They probably took it out of the microwave too soon, though, at 16 euros a plat, you expect more than microwaved entrees.

The service was friendly; if we’d complained I’m sure those problems would have been fixed. However, the appetizer of mushroom paté almost made up for any shortcomings in the entrees. It was richly flavored, with hints of tarragon and ceps (porcinis). The best thing about Le Potager du Marais is its location and the fact it’s open before 7 p.m., allowing you to dine after you've exhausted yourself tramping around Paris.

But when I return to Paris—and I hope that's soon—I’ll definitely be heading back to Le Grenier de Notre Dame. Although serendipity doesn’t strike twice, good food, fortunately, is more consistent.

Le Grenier de Notre Dame: 18, Rue de la Bûcherie, Tel: 0143299829

Le Potager du Marais: 22, Rue Rambuteau, Tel: 0142742466

Mintalicious Chocolate Bars

Minty! Chocolate! Delicious!

When I saw the recipe for these lovely little green and black bars, I knew I had to veganize them, right away. Off to the kitchen I went, ideas simmering in my head, to look for ingredients.

I stirred, simmered, poured, spread, and waited. Waited an hour for the crust to set, another 30 minutes for the filling to firm up, and 10 minutes for the chocolate topping to harden. The anticipation grew. My husband kept asking where the cookies were. My dog kept gazing longingly toward the kitchen. The hour grew late.

Finally I could take it no more. I removed the chilled dish to the counter, sank a knife through the hardened bars, lifted a section to my mouth, and bit into a bar. Mintalicious!

And thus an adjective was born.

Here’s how to make some mintaliciousness yourself:

(Meanwhile, if you want more holiday cookies, check out FoodBlogga, or go here to see how to send in your own cookie recipe.)

Gunga Pea Curry with Potatoes

Plump gunga peas stand out in curry.

The other day I picked up an interesting package of legumes. I didn’t know what gunga peas were, but it would be easy to find out, I figured. Gunga peas, Wikipedia tells me, are pigeon peas, and are used in Caribbean cooking. They’re also found in Indian dishes, which explains their presence at Tesco.

After soaking them yesterday, I had to decide what to do with them, and I wasn’t in the mood for Caribbean. Suddenly I remembered a dish I had a few months ago, brought by another vegetarian to a cookout we went to. It was a yellow curry, simple yet delicious. I seem to remember she told me it contained some legume I wasn’t familiar with—gunga peas?

I’d been meaning to recreate this wonderful dish, so, armed with my soaked gunga peas, I set out to do just that.

The result wasn’t quite as yellow or creamy—maybe  next time I’ll add another can of coconut milk (oh, the fat!) and more turmeric. But it was quite good, spicy and warm, an antidote to the cold front that was raging through our back garden. The gunga peas were perfect, just enough bite to provide interest. With a little eye like blackeyed peas, gunga peas are instead plump and round, like the pigeon they're named for.

If you can find dried pigeon peas, or gunga peas, do use them. I used about half in the curry; the rest we’ll eat in another dish. If not, I’m sure canned pigeon peas will work as well, and are more readily available (check in the Mexican or international section of your supermarket).

I used red fingerling potatoes, because that's what I had, but any waxy potato will do. And if you're a cilantro-hater, don't bother with that. I served this in a bowl, with some somosas and raita. Some naan would have been good, too.

See below for directions, including easy instructions on cooking dried gunga peas.