boil 'em, mash 'em, stick 'em in a stew
potatoes, beets, and trying to make sense of time
The other day, as I put a sourdough boule into my shopping basket, I thought about how in March and April, shortly after I’d been laid off, I had been making a fresh loaf of no-knead bread every few days to give my life some structure. Now, even though I’m still at home, I mostly can’t be bothered to start the fermentation process at bedtime like I used to. I realised the pandemic has been going on long enough that we can now find ourselves getting nostalgic for earlier in the pandemic. Or maybe nostalgia is the wrong word, because I don’t miss the level of fear and anxiety I felt in those early days. But because our sense of time has been so skewed during all of this, things that were a few months or weeks ago can feel both like yesterday and as distant as a memory of my 21st birthday. Remember when everything was cake? That was only in July!
I suppose food has always been a powerful stabilizing force for me, and I’ve relied on it more than ever in this time of global and personal uncertainty. Without work and commuting for a normal sense of routine, I used my meal plan to provide order and the testing of new or complex recipes to gain a feeling of accomplishment. I hope that even once I regain the ranks of the employed I won’t lose all of the kitchen ambition I’ve been able to enjoy during this time, but I try to remind myself that it’s normal to have your creativity and energy wax and wane. Some days you’ll want to make a lasagna from scratch, and some days you’ll just manage boiling an egg to add to some instant ramen. You’re still taking care of yourself, either way.
My toxic trait: I unreservedly love ranch. Give it to me for pizza crusts, raw vegetables, chicken wings, in Cool Ranch Dorito form… it is the perfect dip. I have been on a years-long quest to find a good vegan version, with only mild success. Isa Does It includes an avocado-based one that is really tasty, but feels too healthy to satisfy the ranch craving. The creamier vegan mayo-based ones I found online were satisfying but didn’t quite have the right level of umami. I decided to try Julia Goldberg’s tahini ranch, something that I was skeptical of but has nevertheless been on my mental ‘to make’ list for some time.
If you try it right when you make it, you might be disappointed. You might think it tastes like a savoury liquefied sesame snap. But after a few hours in the fridge, the flavours marry and it turns into something magical. While it does still taste a little like tahini, it also tastes undeniably like ranch: garlicky, creamy, herby, and with just an undercurrent of sweetness. I had to add a lot more water than the recipe called for to get it to the texture I wanted— I think this will probably vary based on what the liquid content of the tahini is— but otherwise it worked nicely in the mini food processor attachment for my hand blender. We had it for dinner on a bowl of brown rice, roasted broccoli, kale chips, and Gardein breaded chick’n. I only made a half batch because I didn’t want to be responsible for 2 cups of the stuff if I didn’t like it, but now I wish I had extra. I don’t know if this is the end of my quest, but it is a happy stop on my journey.
Last fall and winter, when I kept getting spaghetti squash in my produce bin, I scoured the internet for recipes that weren’t just variations of ‘pretend it’s pasta and put sauce on it’ because (sorry if you enjoy this) that is awful. The best thing I found was a take on a potato gratin with parmesan from the Food Network, which I made a few times (with some tweaks) last winter and for the first time this fall on Sunday. Because it still involves potatoes the texture is more nuanced, with crispy edges and a mix of soft squash and toothsome potatoes. The recipe’s first step involves steaming the squash in the microwave which… I cannot abide. Instead I roast at 400°F for 35-40 minutes. When the squash is cool enough to touch, scrape the insides out with a fork. I like to do this into a strainer set over a bowl, because you need to squeeze a bunch of the moisture out of the squash so that it doesn’t get too sloppy when you put the gratin in the oven.
The sauce is a simple cream sauce with garlic and fresh thyme. I didn’t have heavy cream and I wasn’t about to leave my house to go get it, so I took a risk and used oat milk this time: slicing the potatoes with the mandoline directly into the pan while the sauce is cooking helps release their starch, which thickens the sauce. Pleased to report that it worked just fine— vegans and the lactose intolerant, rejoice! I added extra thyme as well as a few pinches of my culinary deus ex machina, ghost pepper salt, because a little heat against a backdrop of richness is always welcome. While the dish isn’t as heavy as you might think, it is creamy and salty, so for contrast I usually like to serve it with a crisp, bitter salad in a tart dressing (we had arugula with tomato vinaigrette).
I wasn’t planning to include Monday’s stew in the newsletter because it’s such an unfussy recipe, but people seemed so enamoured with the dumplings when I shared it on instagram, I decided to add it after all. The stew is a vegan riff on chicken and dumplings, from the marvellous Isa Does It. I inevitably always end up making it because I bought fresh dill for something and have leftovers I need to use before they get slimy, and then I remember how great this is. The stew is a homey mix of carrot, potato, and celery with fresh dill and thyme, plus white beans for protein and a not-too-thick gravy made from a roux at the start. But the star is the fluffy rosemary dumplings, created just by plopping spoonfuls of dough into the pot once the vegetables are cooked, and putting the lid on so they can steam.
The first time I made this, I was underwhelmed— while the dumplings did add some heft to the stew, they were just squishy balls of dough. The next time, with great concentration, I managed not to overmix the dough, and my reward was light, biscuit-like dumplings, soft at the outside where they soaked up the gravy as they cooked. The recipe calls for chopped dried rosemary, but I like to use fresh because a) our garden has a lot of it, b) it has a mild flavour that balances nicely with the dill and gravy, and c) have you ever tried to chop dried rosemary? Unless your aim is to cover yourself and your kitchen with rosemary confetti, I don’t recommend it. But I do recommend this stew for your rainy, cozy, autumn dinner needs.
Beets are one of the only things still kicking in the garden, but they aren’t getting any younger, so I made a double batch of my favourite thing to make with them: beet burgers. The recipe comes from Isa Does It (yes, again) and it is incredible. Savoury and filling, this is essentially my platonic ideal of a veggie burger. Friends to whom I recommend the recipe message me back with their rave reviews. Jeff, notably lukewarm on beets, counts them among the best veggie burgers ever. Along with shredded beet, their main components are brown or green lentils and brown rice, all pulsed together to make a distinctly meaty mix. Thyme, fennel, and ground mustard add delicious earthy flavours, and breadcrumbs and almond butter (and some time in the fridge) bind them together. Since we’re not vegan I usually add a raw egg so I can skip the fridge step and eat them sooner, but they definitely work as written.
I made sure to check the weather forecast before choosing what day to make these, so I wouldn’t have to grill in the rain (although they’re nice cooked in the cast iron, too). Making the patties is fun, and because of the beets, impressively bloody-looking. The regular recipe makes about 6 medium patties or 4 larger ones, so you can just eyeball it based on the size of the buns you have— one good thing about veggie burgers is they don’t shrink up like meat burgers when you cook them, so it’s easier to make them to fill the bun properly. Since the grill was on already, we lightly charred a halved romaine heart, and dressed it with the remainder of the tahini ranch. If we weren’t eating inside because it was 9°C and dark by 6pm, this meal would have felt distinctly summery… but still satisfying on a late October evening.
Media:
I enjoyed this brief profile of chef and cookbook author Yotam Ottolenghi for Penguin. His books Plenty and SIMPLE are regulars in my kitchen; indeed, I’ve already shown off recipes from both in this newsletter. From the article, and knowing my cooking style, it’s easy to see why this is: he loves to make vegetables the feature of the plate, rather than an afterthought for meat.
“I’m an omnivore – I eat everything – but vegetables are where the interesting stuff happens in the kitchen. That’s where the colour is, the flavours are really interesting, there’s so much more you can do.”
I have to agree— if I see a meat item with three different descriptors on a restaurant menu followed by ‘seasonal vegetables’, I know it’s going to be some boring, floppy broccolini or asparagus. I don’t want anything on my plate to just be substance, I want it all to be delicious! There is so much you can do with vegetables and his attitude towards serving them and developing recipes really celebrates that.
He also talks about one of the most basic happinesses of cooking: experiencing others enjoy the food you make for them. It really is unmatched, and it’s something that has probably been much harder to find during the pandemic (and part of why I will deliver slices of cake or jars of preserves to friends). This weekend, a friend has organized a vegan soup swap, where we all make a large amount of soup and then we meet up in a park to trade ours for a pint of each participant’s soup. It’s somewhat like a non-competitive cookoff, and while I’m thrilled I’ll have multiple soups to try, I’m positively vibrating with excitement at the idea of having someone new to cook for. Food is a powerful source of community, which is why it feels best when we get to share it with others.
Thanks for reading— if you enjoyed this newsletter, please share it with someone new! And yes, I too, love to dine safely, outdoors.