Mushroom Gravy (and the Poutine it inspired)

If there's one thing I miss as a vegetarian, it's gravy. And it's not because gravy tastes groovy or anything like that. Really, the reasoning is quite similar to why I could never give up ice cream: some foods equal comfort. And gravy is one of them. There's nothing that says "party time" quite like a heaping pile of whipping potatoes with a well in the middle that overflows with gravy. For the past few holiday season's, I have watched others' potatoes heaving and gravy strewn whilst mine went bare, but no more.

I have discovered mushroom gravy. And it tastes so good.

So it went like this: Garet decided that December should be Canadian month. But try as we might, all we could think of that we Canadian without also being American was Poutine, a strange french fry concoction I once say Anthony Bourdain eat in Quebec. We ended up expanding the fare to North American of course, but we did want to give this puppy a whirl.

The only problem: Bourdain's poutine consisted of fries fried in duck fat and covered in, among other toppings, gravy. So I consulted some cookbooks and discovered we veggies do have our own "gravies" just like we have an answer to every other meat-friendly entre (I'm ever fond of the smart dog as well on that front).

The fun thing about Poutine is it is a smorgabord a la fries, so while there are obviously some traditional toppings, anything goes. So for this one, we ended up cleaning out the fridge in the process as well, a splendid bonus. Art cooked up some chicken and gravy with greenbean casserole the night before, when I was at school. All that was left to do so make my end of the meal, the veggie gravy. The man was kind enough to grab a couple packages of white button mushrooms at the local grocer. It was all cake after that.

Mushroom Gravy
--Makes 2.5 c.--

2 c. water
1 c. chopped white mushrooms (I got white button on sale to boot)
3 T soy sauce
1 t thyme
salt and pepper
1 1/2 T cornstarch dissolved in 3 T water
1 t vegetarian browning liquid (such as Gravy Master)

1. In a small saucepan, combine water through thyme. Season with salt and pepper and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to low and simmer for three minutes to soften the mushrooms.

2. Transfer mixture to a blender and process to smooth. Return to saucepan over high heat and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to low and whisk in the cornstarch mixture. Stir until sauce thickens or if you get impatient like me, add a few handfulls of flour one at a time while stirring until the gravy is of a gravy consistency. Stir in the browning liquid (I was less thrilled with my off brand but I get to thinking that vegetable Better than Boullion would get the job done and taste better. Try it if you wish. I know I will.)

3. Taste to adjust seasonings. Serve hot (in case this didn't seem obvious).

For the Poutine, I also stir fried up the rest of the mushrooms in the package with a little strawberry Balsamic, leaving them on long enough to start to carmelize.

As for the Poutine itself, there's no hard and fast recipe here. Just cut up some potatoes and put them on a cookie sheet in the oven on 350-400 for about 60 minutes (30 minutes and then flip for the last 30). Then go wild with the toppings and gravy. For the boys, the leftover chicken and gravy did just fine, though they, like me, opted for shredded cheese rather than the traditional cheese curd.  For myself:

A nice oven baked french fry base
carmelized mushrooms
leftover green bean casserole (reheated)
mushroom gravy
shredded cheese

It was a meal of comfort food topped with comfort food and then drenched in liquid comfort. A delight for the tastebuds and the stomach, with its meaty mushroom earthy meets carb standby favorite meets green bean... well... greenness. It might look a bit regurgitated, but until the potato-less gratin, it only looked unattractive. This is one of those adventures that I definitely want to repeat, and I did it all without duck fat.

Potato-less Gratin

Sometimes you try something and it fails. This is one of those times.

I saw this recipe in the French Women Don't Get Fat Cookbook called Pumkpin and Apple Gratin.  We had some orchard apples left at the time and plenty of butternut (which is allowable as a pumpkin substitute in said recipe, and I thought, "Heck, why not?"

Famous last words.

I did the recipe fairly as presented. Which is as follows:

Pumpkin and Apple Gratin
-serves 4 to 6-
2 T unsalted butter (plus some for dish)
2 lbs pumpkin or butternut squash, peeled, seeded, and cut into 2-in pieces
3 baking apples (I used golden delicious)
1 T lemon juice
salt and pepper
3/4 c creme fraiche (or greek yogurt)
pinch cinnamon
1 med onion, chopped
1 T chopped walnuts
3/4 c feta, crumbled
1 t thyme

1. Butter 9x13 baking dishand add sliced pumpkin and apples. To slice my pumpkin, I brought in my handy pseudo house husband assistant. I handled the apples all my own. Sprinkle with lemon juice, dot with 1 T butter, and season. Place in the oven for 20 minutes.

2. In med. bowl, combine yogurt and cinnamon. Melt 1 T butter in pan over med. heat. Add onion. Saute until soft, 3 min. Remove and stir in walnuts, feta, and thyme. Add onion to yogurt and stir. Pour over pumpkin and apples and return to oven.

3. Cook until veggies are tender and top golden, 20-30 minutes.


I'm not sure if French women get fat or not, but I know this, they aren't if they eat this side dish. Not only did it taste like gym shoes smell and look like vomit, but a half hour after consuming my gratin dinner, I was physically ill for the rest of the night, though if you were going for a nice, thorough bowel cleanse, by all means, this is the recipe for you.

The sauce! The sauce!

Still, I am horribly behind on recipes. Every time I think I've caught up, there's another card added to the stack. In current events, the boys and I have decided to do cultural food months. November was Mexican month, as Garet will try anything as long as you tell him it's Mexican. You see, he's part Mexican and he's very into genealogical awareness.December was supposed to be Canadian month, but alas, Canada's eat pretty much the same things we do (with the exception of Poutine and Caribou). Thus, December is North American month, so we can experiment with southern dishes, for lack of Caribou. Obviously, not every day will be a culinary experiment in the region of choice, but we try to do it at least one or twice a week. Last month went really well and I have high hopes for this month.

Coincidentally, I am behind enough on the blog that I haven't shared any of November's Mexican masterpieces. Next week marks the beginning of winter break, though. As a matter of fact, today is my last day at the internship, which is a sad yet happy revelation. Soon, I will be allowed the option to sleep in, at least for a little bit. And by sleep in, I mean remain in bed until about 8, when the kid will insist I get up regardless. That being said, I will be trying to submit almost daily contributions to the blog to get it more up to date with what's happening in my kitchen. The excitement is mounting.

Until then, least's go back to the beginning of the recipe stack, to august, when the tomatoes were reading high and red on their vines. In fact, this little recipe goes hand in hand with my eggplant meatball fetish, because what does better with meatballs than a pot of homemade spaghetti sauce. This recipe comes to us from one of my favorite author's, and the very one who brought you the pizza dough I am so fond of using... Barbara Kingsolver, as found in her book "Animal Vegetable Miracle." Here it is, the Kate-ified version.

(pictured here with eggplant parm)

Spaghetti Sauce a la Kingsolver
(This is not a canning recipe)

10c. tomatoes
1 12 oz. can roasted red pepper with garlic (clearanced at Aldi!)
3 small peppers
1 onion
1/4 c. basil
1/8 c. honey
1 T oregano
about 1 T salt
1/2 T thyme
1/2 T garlic powder
1/2 T parsley
1/2t pepper (I used 1/2 cayenne)
1/2 t cinnamon
1/8 t nutmeg

1. Peal tomato skins off. You could find a quick and easy way of doing this, or you could sit there for a very long time stripping raw tomatoes, as I did. If you use closet-ripened tomatoes, as one batch I did was, you may want to add a few canned tomatoes to the mix to achieve a normal looking red hue to the sauce. There's a chance, otherwise, that it will come out orange. Then, put the tomato and the red peppers into a blender and puree.

2. In large pot, cook diced onion and peppers to soft. You could dice the onion yourself, or make your pseudo house husband do it, that is, if you too have one.

3.Add puree tomato/red pepper mix to pot, along with basil, honey, oregano, salt, thyme, garlic powder, parsley, pepper, cinnamon, and nutmeg.

4. Boil and then turn head down to simmer. simmer 2-3 hours, until sauce has reached desired consistency. Freeze in containers if desired.

So here it is, after so much waiting, a delicious homemade sauce that canned sauce can only wish it was. Goes very well with eggplant meatballs.

At the Farm

This isn't exactly a vegetarian manifesto of a post, more of a local food manifesto, really. On the first of November, my unpaid internship gave me something to sink my teeth into, literally. The producer I work for decided to do a segment, to air on thanksgiving, for the Cleveland-based tv show called Applause.

In all honesty, I have no tv show watching capabilities in Cleveland, but I've seen a lot of raw footage from shoots before, and it's quite a show. It's one of the few shows that make me wish I could afford (or had any sort of time) to watch tv. And the people I work for are fantastic people, very kind and generous and friendly, even when I'm not at my best. I guess I might be a wee bit biased. Anyway.

My producer invited me to shoot with him at the Miller's farm in Pennsylvania, about a two hour drive from the heart of Cleveland. First, though, we had to pick up the camera man and stop off at a Starbucks. What road trip is complete without Starbucks?

Quickly, the passing scenery flashing its way across the back windows of the TV van went from urban to suburban to "do people actually live here?" We pulled into the driveway a half hour behind schedule, which, incidentally, was still a half hour ahead of planned scheduling (radio/tv people always allow some leeway time). Immediately, the Miller's welcomed us to their farm. Cows mooed in the distance. Hay bales sat in tidy bundles. And hey, was that a sheep?

No doubt about it, this was a farm, and not just any farm. The Millers raise grass-fed beef, chicken, turkey, lambs, pigs, and eggs. In this quiet Pennsylvanian setting, we had happened upon the Mecca of the Cleveland local food scene: free range animals.

I must admit, I have been to the farmers market in Shaker Square and seen the pictures on display at the meat tents. "Look how happy this pig's life was!" The pictures say, often with cameos from the farmer's various children accompanying the animals in question. One big happy human-animal family. I'm not sure I quite believed until I saw the cows at the Miller's farm.

 

When these cows moo, they sound contented. The chickens wander, pecking cow pies in the grass, wandering stiff-legged around a small (non-sewage-based) pond. Their eggs are a pretty pastel of brown and white, and as the farmer collects his bounty, they eat, unperturbed while the cows look on, munching clover.

"Come on, girls," the farmer calls and the cows follow. Mooing with curiosity. What will he do this time? Feed us? Let us out into a new pasture? The turkeys mill about, choosing their own blend of wheat and grass, while the farmer talks, with starry eyes, about the sound they make--such a happy sound--when the turkeys are let out to pasture. And the pigs? They love a good ear-scratching as they nose the camera man's pants, the farmers hands, the gaps in the fence bars that separate them from me. They seem to say, "Hey there. Want to play? There's plenty of mud."

Does this sound sappy? Damn straight it does, but it's also true. As a vegetarian who is so because of health and no other reason, I find the peaceful scene of the Miller's farm and their carefree animals has made me a near-convert to PETA-like causes. Who could eat this face?

Or perhaps knowing that this face is one that has known peace in its life makes it particularly good eating. Certainly better eating than a pig with a clipped tail in a room overflowing with pigs, all of whom have never so much as rolled through the mud.

It was a cold day but a good day, and I feel wiser having been a part in it. At the end of the shoot, the Millers and a slew of local Cleveland foodies sat down to a local food feast prepared by the chefs at Fire restaurant. And yes, I got to eat to. What a display. The table was full-out decked with fall cheer and set up in the hay loft of the barn.

But first, we all enjoyed mulled cider with crackers and local cheese inside the Miller's architecturally intriguing farm house in the company of one another and the Miller's two springer spaniels.

The spread atthe feast itself included Miller meatloaf sandwiches on focaccia, Miller beef stew, roasted Miller chicken, roasted veggies with Miller bacon, Cauliflower au Gratin, a mesclun mix salad, firecracker bread (in vase on table), local Ohio wine, and for dessert, an apple cobbler with honey cream on top.

I didn't partake of the meat (obviously) but I usually don't enjoy cauliflower and it was divine. The firecracker bread was crisp with a hint of spice. The salad was tasty with its fresh local greens. And the dessert: I'm not sure what was in it, but I wanted more. And then more. The honey cream only added to my delight. Cream AND honey? I suddenly understand why a land of milk and honey is a cliche for paradise.

I even found myself sampling the veggies cooked with bacon, though I did not eat the bacon. Best brussel sprouts I've ever had. In fact, the stop before we headed back to the land of the Cleve, we stopped in at the veggie farm that was home to these little babies, where we saw the greenhouses in which the salad greens were grown, the field housing not only veggies but two beehives with which to pollinate the crops,and of course,  the sprout plants themselves:









































 Now that looks like something I want to eat.

The show will air this Thanksgiving, with several reairings during the holiday season and an option for online viewing at some point in the near future. Go to WVIZ's website for more info.

Make sure to check it out, though. After that meal, even the barn cat was pleased.

The green tomato experiment, the results, plus a lovely soup

Recap: The growing season over for my first garden, I was left with some 30 odd green tomatoes, so I decided to try a home-ripening method. I tied them five in a bag along with a green banana to the pole in my hall closet. I'm sure my fair readers have been anxiously awaiting the results of this experiment.

The results are in:

They didn't turn totally red, but they did ripen, the perfect sort of tomato to puree into a soup or sauce. We did both. The sauce will come in another blog (yes that same sauce used with those delicious eggplant meatballs). The soup I made today, a nice and simple lazy Saturday lunch.

The soup comes to me from a cookbook I fell in love with last year when I got it out of the library. One Amazon buy later, it rests in my kitchen on the cookbook shelf.

Tomato Bisque
-Kate-ified from the Vegetarian Lunchbasket

2 T butter
3 T flour
2 c milk
2 c tomato puree
1 t dried basil
1 c Israeli couscous
1/2 c grated Parm cheese
salt and pepper to taste
a dash of cayenne

To prep: I pureed the five or six tomatoes, some from the batch I decided to ripen on the kitchen counter instead of the closet (they took longer), others were the last of the closet experiment. I cut out the stems, top and bottom, and pureed them in my blender. Two cups exactly.

1. In a large saucepan, melt the butter over med-low heat and whisk in the flour. Stir for 3 minutes. Then, slowly add the milk. Simmer until milk thickens.

2. Put 1 c. water in a small saucepan. And allow to boil. Add the couscous to the water, cover, and cook over a low simmer. Add the tomato puree and basil to milk in large saucepan. Five minutes later, add the couscous to the large saucepan and leave on simmer a few minutes more.

3. Remove the pan from heat and stir in the Parm and dash of cayenne, plus salt and pepper to taste.

Supposedly, the recipe serves four. In this household, I'm the only tomato soup fan. So it should serve me for about five lunches, give or take. The extra bonus, this is a soup ready in about 15 minutes, so those in search of a quick, healthy meal because they, like me, are having a rough fall semester, look no further. I just hope you too enjoy tomatoes.

This soup is a delicious fall treat, one that beats the pants off my usual "comforting" can of Campbells tomato, or would if cans had pants.

It was light but warm and creamy, and the couscous added a touch of texture that doubled as a way of making me feel "full," something tomato soup just doesn't do for me. Face it, it's really more like a drink. But this bisque wasn't, and my Kate-ifying ingredient (well aside from the couscous--the original recipe called for rice), the cayenne I added on a whim, gave the whole dish a slight kick that acted as a nice pick-me-up to carry me through the rest of my lazy Saturday.


Aside from the closet-tomatoes sauce, there are a great many upcoming food excitements. Here are some teasers for what's to come in my written recipe:

The weekend of Halloween, Art and I visited my favorite Michigan orchard for a half bushel of golden delicious (my favorite apple) and a bushel of squash. Purchased for the low cost of $5, the bushel is a mix of butternut, acorn, and hubbard. We decided against pie pumpkins this year, because of my freakish fall 2010 schedule, but rest assured, next year, I will make a pie pumpkin pie.

Already, the apples are too ripe for munching and I have plans for a casserole that mixes the flavors of all of my orchard finds. That, or we'll just make apple sauce.

More exciting though, this past Monday, I found myself at a Pennsylvania grass-feed farm-- for work. Yes, the producer I'm interning under at the local NPR/PBS station is doing a tv piece on local food for thanksgiving and he invited me to come to the shoot and help out. Blog forthcoming.

 

Eggplant Meatballs (finally)

There are meatballs and then there are meatballs. And then... there are eggplant-filled balls meant to make the meatball obsolete. The eggplant meatball. I first heard of these when I saw them frozen in my grocers freezer last year. My mother makes a mean grapejelly meatball via frozen bulk meatballs and I quickly purchased a crap-ton, filled my crockpot with the necessary sauces and voila! Of course, those particular "meat"balls, without the saving grace of chili sauce plus jelly, are in a word "bland." In another word, "tasteless."

A few months back, I was in the library (shock me) and happened across a display of veggie cookbooks out for what was then gardening season. I flipped through one with a delicious looking cover, and right there in front of me was a recipe for eggplant meatballs.

Now, I couldn't tell you why it never occurred to me that one could make such meatballs and instead, assumed that one could only purchase said meatballs for far too much money per box. All I can say is: I grew up in America. And so, let's face it, there was a time in my life where I assumed peas was created--miraculously--from a can. So, cut me some slack on this revelatory moment. I was just uber excited. And from the pictures, they looked GOOD.

The pictures do not lie.

Eggplant Meatballs
-from Totally Vegetarian

2-3 T olive oil
1 med. onion,dice
1 med. eggplant, cut in 1/4-1/2 cubes
1 1/2 c. toasted walnuts,chopped
sea salt and pepper
2 c. dried bread crumbs
2 large eggs, beaten
1c. Parm. cheese, grated
3 garlic cloves, crushed
zest 1 lemon
1 T dried parsley
1 T oregano
1/2 c. basil
veggie oil spray

1. Preheat your oven to 375 F. Lightly oil a baking sheet. If your bag o walnuts is not toasted (as mine never is), spread the necessary amount of raw almonds on the sheet and pop them in the oven. As soon as they start to smell, take them out. Roasting walnuts is not a lengthy process. Chop the walnuts and set them aside. Then re-oil the baking sheet.

2. Heat large skillet and sprinkle with 2 tablespoons olive oil. When the skillet is hot, add onion and saute on med-low until translucient, about 5 minutes. Add eggplant and sprinkle with salt.  Saute until veggies are soft and fragrant, about 8-10 minutes, adding oil as needed.

Or, saute the eggplant a day or so ahead, like I tend to do and freeze it. Then, when you saute the onions, add the defrosted eggplant and in 5 minutes, voila: ready for the next step.

Transfer to a large bowl.

3. At this point you add the chopped walnut to the eggplant and mix well. You need a food processor or, if you have no processor, at least a blender. Warning: spoken from personal experience, the processing of walnuts in a blender tends to gum up the works (i.e. it turns into walnut butter and stops the blades from moving. Put a "generous cup," whatever that means, to the processor/blender and hit frappe. Once it's all walnut buttery batter, return it to the bowl. Add breadcrumbs-basil and mix well. Then rub olive oil in your palms (its greasy but oddly satisfying) and shape the mixture into meatballs about the size of golfballs.

4. Place the balls on your baking sheet and bake 20-30 minutes. Then, remove the pan from oven, cover with foil to steam, and ta-da meatballs.

The first batch, I combined all the balls at a two to one ratio and flatted them to make veggie burgers.

Upon learning this recipe, I have taught it to my man, and up until this past week, when the last of the eggplant was finally meatballed, I had him whip up batches for me to take with me for dinner between my internship and my tuesday and thursday night classes. These meatballs are great by themselves, a little nutty with the taste of the grease from the pureed nuts and the olive oil added in, plus the eggplant's veggie heft and texture, the parmesan's sharpness, and the bread crumbs to make it all come together. I've never had a real meatball that can compare to these fakers. On a sandwich, they make a nice substitute for falafel balls (or as veggie burgers, as previously stated). I've never had the chance to try, but they can also be crumbled for a taco fiesta of eggplant proportions. All that said, they taste magnificent with pasta sauce and a nice whole wheat linguine, which is how I find myself eating them right at this very second.

(Picture to come of this fabulous meal as soon as I get the camera home and uploaded.)

And the pasta sauce I'm using? That's for another time.

Slacking is what slacking does, or I'm wallowing in green tomatoes

Yikes. I can't believe it's been a month since my last post. I can imagine my four dedicated readers hopelessly anticipating that eggplant meatball recipe. Alas, today is not that day.

Today, I'm talking tomatoes. The garden season is coming to an end. As a matter of fact, by community garden rule, my plants must all be uprooted and composted by the end of October 23. Not a big deal. Most of the plants are done producing anyway and the kale plant I intend on uprooting only so long as it will take me to re-pot it and put it in my living room window. Then, there are the tomatoes.

Last week, Art and I ventured to the garden to check on the damage. All three tomato plants were festooned in tomatoes, all of them bright frickin green. Still. We came to terms with the fact that they aren't going to ripen before garden strip time. Solution: we picked all of the big ones, 30 in all, and discarded the ones that seemed in any way damaged or "diseased." Then, I got on google and I searched for a slow indoor ripening method. I found several, but many that just weren't practical with our apartment-sized living space. The one I settled on is the plastic bag method. You put about four or five tomatoes in a plastic bag with holes pricked in it for proper "breathing." Then, you stick a green banana in the bag and tie it up. Six plastic bags and bananas later, we have a row of tomato-laden Giant Eagle grocery bags dangling from the coat-rod in the hall closet. So far: one tomato has ripened.

Luck seems like it might be in our favor. However, dear reader, I have a favor of you. Should these tomatoes not ripen (and that's not even counting how many new ones will be there when we go for the big dig-up later this week), I need some ideas on what to do with them. I mean, I love my baked fried green tomato recipe (and I hope you do too), but a girl can only stomach so many before she just doesn't ever want to eat another one.

What the heck else can you do with a green tomato?