I sleep really poorly, so I've been trying to cut down on caffeinated drinks. Instead, I've been drinking warm water with agave (which is a natural sweetener) and lemon. It's really soothing and tasty, and it warms me from the inside out the way coffee or tea would. M often makes it for me in the morning and brings it to me in bed!
You can use honey instead of the agave, but I'm slightly allergic, so I mostly avoid honey. Agave comes in light or dark versions and they have slightly different flavours, so experiment to see what you like, and what proportions work best for you.
Ingredients:
water
1 Tbs lemon juice
2 tsp agave (or honey)
Instructions:
1. Boil water.
2. Add the lemon juice and agave.
3. Mix and drink.
Couldn't be easier!
Wednesday, 6 October 2010
Tuesday, 5 October 2010
Vegetable and Coconut Stir-Fry
The other night, I wanted to use up a variety of odds and ends before embarking on shopping for some new recipes. So I made a vegetable and coconut stir-fry. M and I ate it from bowls while sitting in a cuddly fashion on the couch, and we had another bread and butter pudding afterwards. Plus I made so much that I had leftovers for lunch the next day.
Basically, I stir-fried red onion, tender-stem broccoli, pak choi, red chilli, and haricot together. Then I added fresh rice noodles and stir-fried some more. After that, I poured in a tin of light coconut milk, and I seasoned it all with leftover red pesto. It sounds odd, combining coconut milk, which we associate with Thailand, with Italian pesto, but it actually worked together. Curry paste or black bean sauce would have worked just as well. So this is a simple, healthy, quick meal to make that can be varied according to taste and according to what you've got around.
Ingredients:
about 400 g of mixed vegetables (onions, spinach or pak choi, broccoli, and cubes of squash are good choices)
oil
300 g fresh rice noodles
1 tin light coconut milk
3-4 Tbs pesto (or curry paste, or 1-2 Tbs black bean sauce)
Instructions:
1. Chop the vegetables into cubes or dice them, as appropriate.
2. Heat the oil and add the veg. Stir fry for 5-10 minutes, depending on what type of veg you're using.
3. Add the noodles and stir fry for another 5 minutes.
4. Pour in the coconut milk and let the whole thing cook for another 5 or so minutes, until the milk has warmed.
5. Add the sauce and stir well.
6. Serve.
Basically, I stir-fried red onion, tender-stem broccoli, pak choi, red chilli, and haricot together. Then I added fresh rice noodles and stir-fried some more. After that, I poured in a tin of light coconut milk, and I seasoned it all with leftover red pesto. It sounds odd, combining coconut milk, which we associate with Thailand, with Italian pesto, but it actually worked together. Curry paste or black bean sauce would have worked just as well. So this is a simple, healthy, quick meal to make that can be varied according to taste and according to what you've got around.
Ingredients:
about 400 g of mixed vegetables (onions, spinach or pak choi, broccoli, and cubes of squash are good choices)
oil
300 g fresh rice noodles
1 tin light coconut milk
3-4 Tbs pesto (or curry paste, or 1-2 Tbs black bean sauce)
Instructions:
1. Chop the vegetables into cubes or dice them, as appropriate.
2. Heat the oil and add the veg. Stir fry for 5-10 minutes, depending on what type of veg you're using.
3. Add the noodles and stir fry for another 5 minutes.
4. Pour in the coconut milk and let the whole thing cook for another 5 or so minutes, until the milk has warmed.
5. Add the sauce and stir well.
6. Serve.
Monday, 4 October 2010
Cornmeal Pancakes
One of my favourite memories from childhood is eating my mother’s cornmeal pancakes. She would make these on Sunday morning and serve a thick stack each to me and my father. We’d cover them in maple syrup, and my parents would have bacon too, so we could just feel this heavy meal settling in our tummies and weighing us down. You want to sleep after eating these pancakes, not get up and do something active.
Which is why I decided to make them on a recent Friday night, after M and I had been to the gym. We’d both worked full days and we’d done our exercise, and now we just wanted to relax, have dinner, and hang out a little before bed. I made my pancakes a bit thinner than my mother’s and served fewer of them, and I served them with raspberries and slices of banana, so at least we were getting some fruit too. We covered them with agave, rather than maple syrup, which I find too sweet. M liked them so much that I made them again a few days later, served with raspberries and slices of pear.
Ingredients:
1 cup polenta/cornmeal
1 cup hot water
1 Tbs sugar
1 cup flour (use a bit less to make them thinner or a bit more to make them thicker)
.5 tsp baking powder
pinch salt
1 egg
.5 cup milk (you can also use cream or soy milk)
oil or butter for frying
fruit to serve with the pancakes
maple syrup or agave to serve with the pancakes
Instructions:
1. Put the polenta/cornmeal (what you call it depends on where you’re from) in a bowl and add the water. Leave this to sit for 10-15 minutes, until the water is all absorbed.
2. Meanwhile, mix the sugar, flour, baking powder, and salt.
3. Add the dry ingredients to the cornmeal and mix.
4. Beat the egg and add it. Then add the milk.
5. Melt butter or warm oil in a frying pan.
6. Spoon the batter into the pan. It will be thick. You might want to press out any larger lumps. Fry on both sides until golden brown and a bit crispy. This takes just a couple of minutes.
7. Serve with fruit and syrup or agave.
Which is why I decided to make them on a recent Friday night, after M and I had been to the gym. We’d both worked full days and we’d done our exercise, and now we just wanted to relax, have dinner, and hang out a little before bed. I made my pancakes a bit thinner than my mother’s and served fewer of them, and I served them with raspberries and slices of banana, so at least we were getting some fruit too. We covered them with agave, rather than maple syrup, which I find too sweet. M liked them so much that I made them again a few days later, served with raspberries and slices of pear.
Ingredients:
1 cup polenta/cornmeal
1 cup hot water
1 Tbs sugar
1 cup flour (use a bit less to make them thinner or a bit more to make them thicker)
.5 tsp baking powder
pinch salt
1 egg
.5 cup milk (you can also use cream or soy milk)
oil or butter for frying
fruit to serve with the pancakes
maple syrup or agave to serve with the pancakes
Instructions:
1. Put the polenta/cornmeal (what you call it depends on where you’re from) in a bowl and add the water. Leave this to sit for 10-15 minutes, until the water is all absorbed.
2. Meanwhile, mix the sugar, flour, baking powder, and salt.
3. Add the dry ingredients to the cornmeal and mix.
4. Beat the egg and add it. Then add the milk.
5. Melt butter or warm oil in a frying pan.
6. Spoon the batter into the pan. It will be thick. You might want to press out any larger lumps. Fry on both sides until golden brown and a bit crispy. This takes just a couple of minutes.
7. Serve with fruit and syrup or agave.
Quote on Vegetarianism
"Nothing will benefit human health and increase chances for survival of life on Earth as much as the evolution to a vegetarian diet." --Albert Einstein
Sunday, 3 October 2010
Chocolate Malt Cake
My girlfriend mentioned in passing that she’d once had a fantastic malt cake that tasted just like Maltesers (known as Whoppers to you Americans). It’s been years since I had those kinds of candies, but as soon as she said it, I could practically taste it. And, of course, I decided that if it was something she liked, I wanted to make it. Do you notice a theme here? If M likes something, I want to make sure she has it; it must be love!
So last week I looked up various recipes on the internet, but from what I could tell, they didn’t have enough malt to make a really malty cake. And they seemed overly sweet. Plus, I also wanted it to be a moist cake, one that would last a few days, because I knew that the two of us would take a while to eat it. And in fact, I got sick with the flu the day after I made it, and M ate the cake on her own, over the course of a week. So here is what I came up with:
Ingredients for the cake:
115 g butter, plus butter for the pan
1 cup sugar
1.5 cup malt powder (I used Horlick’s, the name of which always amuses me)
.75 cup unsweetened cocoa powder, plus extra for the pan
4 eggs
2 cups flour
3 tsp baking powder
.5 tsp salt
1.75 cup soy milk (milk or cream could be used here, but I happened to have soy milk already open in the fridge)
Ingredients for the frosting:
50 g butter
.5 cup double cream (the frosting should be rich, so I used double cream, though single cream or milk or soy milk could be used too)
.75 cup malt powder
.5 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
2 cups icing sugar
Instructions:
1. Melt the butter and mix with the sugar, malt, and cocoa.
2. Beat the eggs and when the mixture is cool, add the eggs.
3. Mix the flour, baking powder, and salt. Add it to the liquid mixture.
4. Add the milk and blend well.
5. Grease a cake pan with butter and “flour” it with cocoa.
6. Pour the batter into the pan and bake for 30-45 minutes at 180 C, checking after 30 minutes to see if the cake is ready.
7. While the cake cools, make the frosting. Melt the butter, and add the other ingredients to it.
8. Mix the ingredients together well, so the malt and cocoa are no longer grainy.
9. When the cake is cool, frost it and serve.
So last week I looked up various recipes on the internet, but from what I could tell, they didn’t have enough malt to make a really malty cake. And they seemed overly sweet. Plus, I also wanted it to be a moist cake, one that would last a few days, because I knew that the two of us would take a while to eat it. And in fact, I got sick with the flu the day after I made it, and M ate the cake on her own, over the course of a week. So here is what I came up with:
Ingredients for the cake:
115 g butter, plus butter for the pan
1 cup sugar
1.5 cup malt powder (I used Horlick’s, the name of which always amuses me)
.75 cup unsweetened cocoa powder, plus extra for the pan
4 eggs
2 cups flour
3 tsp baking powder
.5 tsp salt
1.75 cup soy milk (milk or cream could be used here, but I happened to have soy milk already open in the fridge)
Ingredients for the frosting:
50 g butter
.5 cup double cream (the frosting should be rich, so I used double cream, though single cream or milk or soy milk could be used too)
.75 cup malt powder
.5 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
2 cups icing sugar
Instructions:
1. Melt the butter and mix with the sugar, malt, and cocoa.
2. Beat the eggs and when the mixture is cool, add the eggs.
3. Mix the flour, baking powder, and salt. Add it to the liquid mixture.
4. Add the milk and blend well.
5. Grease a cake pan with butter and “flour” it with cocoa.
6. Pour the batter into the pan and bake for 30-45 minutes at 180 C, checking after 30 minutes to see if the cake is ready.
7. While the cake cools, make the frosting. Melt the butter, and add the other ingredients to it.
8. Mix the ingredients together well, so the malt and cocoa are no longer grainy.
9. When the cake is cool, frost it and serve.
A Woman's Place
Why are home cooks mostly women and professional chefs mostly men? Why is cooking for one’s loved ones still considered to be such a feminine activity, while cooking for money is masculine? Why is one deserving of respect whereas the other one is simply expected?
I certainly have no pretensions of being an amazing cook and I have no desire to cook professionally, but I do consider my cooking and baking to be more than a hobby or something I’m supposed to do, because I’m female. It’s a creative outlet, combined with a way of showing people that I care for them. Feeding someone is the most basic thing you can do for another person, and it means you are keeping that person alive, nurturing and nourishing at the same time. But we don’t respect this, unless it’s done under the auspices of an event, by which I mean a gourmet meal in a restaurant. And in that case, it’s almost always prepared by a man, who is considered an artiste.
The one thing I ever remember my father making for me was a sandwich. On Saturdays, when my mother was at work, he sometimes made me a warm sandwich – meat, cheese, lettuce, tomato, and mayo all stuffed between two slices of bread and warmed in the microwave until the lettuce was wilted and the cheese melted. All these years later, that dish still sticks with me. And meanwhile, my mother cooked for me every day. She made me breakfast, packed my lunches for school, and cooked a nutritious, if meat-heavy, meal every evening. I could name some of her dishes, but they don’t really say as much about her as that sandwich does about my father. Because my mother was the woman, and she was supposed to feed her family. All my father had to do was bring home the bacon in a metaphorical sense, not cook it (I am not sure he’d even know how). So the fact that once in awhile he entered my mother’s zone and made me a sandwich is memorable. And this seems awfully unfair to me, but it’s still the way things are to a great extent.
So here I am, doing what’s expected of me, making meals for my loved ones. Am I just being a typical female? Have I been tricked into thinking I like to spend time in the kitchen? Well, no, I’d like to think not. Obviously, I have to cook, in order to survive, but I choose to cook tasty, healthy meals that might require a bit more time and effort. And, perhaps more importantly, I choose to make meals for other people. I do this to show them that they matter to me. And to take care of them. And sometimes I do it to show off my creativity too. It’s not only men who know how to combine ingredients in new and unexpected ways; women can and do have fun with food too. And we deserve respect for that.
Maybe I should start charging people who come for dinner at my place!
I certainly have no pretensions of being an amazing cook and I have no desire to cook professionally, but I do consider my cooking and baking to be more than a hobby or something I’m supposed to do, because I’m female. It’s a creative outlet, combined with a way of showing people that I care for them. Feeding someone is the most basic thing you can do for another person, and it means you are keeping that person alive, nurturing and nourishing at the same time. But we don’t respect this, unless it’s done under the auspices of an event, by which I mean a gourmet meal in a restaurant. And in that case, it’s almost always prepared by a man, who is considered an artiste.
The one thing I ever remember my father making for me was a sandwich. On Saturdays, when my mother was at work, he sometimes made me a warm sandwich – meat, cheese, lettuce, tomato, and mayo all stuffed between two slices of bread and warmed in the microwave until the lettuce was wilted and the cheese melted. All these years later, that dish still sticks with me. And meanwhile, my mother cooked for me every day. She made me breakfast, packed my lunches for school, and cooked a nutritious, if meat-heavy, meal every evening. I could name some of her dishes, but they don’t really say as much about her as that sandwich does about my father. Because my mother was the woman, and she was supposed to feed her family. All my father had to do was bring home the bacon in a metaphorical sense, not cook it (I am not sure he’d even know how). So the fact that once in awhile he entered my mother’s zone and made me a sandwich is memorable. And this seems awfully unfair to me, but it’s still the way things are to a great extent.
So here I am, doing what’s expected of me, making meals for my loved ones. Am I just being a typical female? Have I been tricked into thinking I like to spend time in the kitchen? Well, no, I’d like to think not. Obviously, I have to cook, in order to survive, but I choose to cook tasty, healthy meals that might require a bit more time and effort. And, perhaps more importantly, I choose to make meals for other people. I do this to show them that they matter to me. And to take care of them. And sometimes I do it to show off my creativity too. It’s not only men who know how to combine ingredients in new and unexpected ways; women can and do have fun with food too. And we deserve respect for that.
Maybe I should start charging people who come for dinner at my place!
Saturday, 2 October 2010
Broccoli and Spinach with Raisins and Pine Nuts
As much as one might like to live off dessert, you do need actual food as well. So a few hours after the bread and butter pudding snack, I thought we should have a light dinner. I had all those raisins left, so I wanted to do something with them, and when I’d been at the grocery store, I’d been tempted by tender-stem broccoli, which you don’t see all that often. M and I both love spinach, so I’d gotten a package of fresh baby leaves too. Thus a recipe for slightly sweet greens began to take shape, inspired by a dish I saw in a magazine of spinach and pine nuts.
I don’t think M was totally convinced by this dish, but I liked the balance of flavours, the sweetness of the raisins with the veggies, all topped with piney tones. Maybe it’s worth pointing out that the recipe includes several flatulence-inducing ingredients, so you might want to be careful about who you serve it to and when, but then again, you can vary it with other ingredients if you prefer (or if necessary!). The recipe can be easily doubled to serve as a side dish for more people or as a larger meal. I just made a small amount, as we weren’t particularly hungry.
Ingredients:
.25 cup raisins (or half a handful)
1 onion
2 garlic cloves
olive oil
200 g spinach
6-8 tender-stem broccoli
30 g pine nuts
freshly ground black pepper
Instructions:
1. Boil some water and soak the raisins in it for 5-10 minutes, until they get plump.
2. Finely chop the onion and garlic.
3. Fry the onion and garlic in a pan in olive oil.
4. Wilt the spinach by putting it in a Teflon or similar pot, with the lid on, over medium heat. Do not add any water. It takes just a few minutes, so keep an eye on it.
5. Chop the broccoli.
6. Add the spinach and the broccoli to the pan with the onion and garlic.
7. After a few minutes, add the drained raisins and the pine nuts. Stir and cook for another 5-10 minutes.
8. Season with pepper and serve.
I don’t think M was totally convinced by this dish, but I liked the balance of flavours, the sweetness of the raisins with the veggies, all topped with piney tones. Maybe it’s worth pointing out that the recipe includes several flatulence-inducing ingredients, so you might want to be careful about who you serve it to and when, but then again, you can vary it with other ingredients if you prefer (or if necessary!). The recipe can be easily doubled to serve as a side dish for more people or as a larger meal. I just made a small amount, as we weren’t particularly hungry.
Ingredients:
.25 cup raisins (or half a handful)
1 onion
2 garlic cloves
olive oil
200 g spinach
6-8 tender-stem broccoli
30 g pine nuts
freshly ground black pepper
Instructions:
1. Boil some water and soak the raisins in it for 5-10 minutes, until they get plump.
2. Finely chop the onion and garlic.
3. Fry the onion and garlic in a pan in olive oil.
4. Wilt the spinach by putting it in a Teflon or similar pot, with the lid on, over medium heat. Do not add any water. It takes just a few minutes, so keep an eye on it.
5. Chop the broccoli.
6. Add the spinach and the broccoli to the pan with the onion and garlic.
7. After a few minutes, add the drained raisins and the pine nuts. Stir and cook for another 5-10 minutes.
8. Season with pepper and serve.
Bread and Butter Pudding
I’ll confess that I’m not much a sweet-eater myself. But that works out well, because I love to bake, and this way I’m not tempted to eat everything I make. Instead, I can give it away to others.
I was skimming through a food magazine when M caught sight of a picture in it. “Mmmm,” she moaned. Wondering what pleased my girlfriend so much, I looked. It was a recipe for bread and butter pudding.
I’ve actually never made that before, and when I went to the store to get the ingredients, I was rather embarrassed to be seen buying white bread. I’m a whole-wheat-and-seeded type, which perhaps makes sense given my vegetarian ways and my health-consciousness. But I figured I was buying this white bread to make something nice for M, and that was okay. Although I did put one of those heavy-duty loaves of organic rye bread in my shopping trolley as well, just to feel a bit better about it.
I changed the recipe in the magazine quite a bit. It called for nutmeg and whole milk, neither of which I like, and I added raisins and cinnamon. I also baked it for less time than was called for, and that turned out to be a good thing, because when I served it to M, she said she liked the soggy pieces underneath best. I liked the crunchy pieces on top, so that shows that at the very least, M and I are suited to eating bread and butter pudding together.
This was a soothing treat for a rainy, chilly afternoon. It was great to be able to turn the oven on when M came home and to have the flat get suffused with the smell of vanilla and cinnamon. Even if I did keep thinking about the breadandbutterfly in Lewis Carroll’s Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There!
Ingredients:
butter
.25-.5 cup raisins (or a hefty handful)
6 slices of white bread (apparently stale works well)
35 g sugar (since I don’t like weighing ingredients, this is about 1/8 of a cup)
1 whole egg and 1 yolk (if you double this recipe, use 1 whole egg and 3 yolks, for an extra-rich custard)
1 vanilla pod
300 ml double cream
cinnamon
raw/demerara sugar
Instructions:
1. Butter the pan.
2. Boil some water and soak the raisins in it for 5-10 minutes, so they get plump.
3. Cut the crusts off the bread and butter the slices. Then slice each piece on the diagonal, so you have 12 triangles.
4. Layer the bread in the pan in two rows, with the points facing towards the top, and place drained raisins in between the layers. Sprinkle any remaining raisins over the bread, but remember that they might get burned during baking.
5. Beat the eggs with the sugar in a mixing bowl and set aside.
6. Split the vanilla pod and place it in a pot along with the double cream. Warm the cream over a medium flame, without letting it boil.
7. Remove the vanilla pod, scraping out the seeds as you do so, putting them in the warm cream. Save the vanilla pod for another use, such as making vanilla sugar.
8. Slowly pour the cream into the egg mixture, whisking the entire time.
9. Pour the custard over the bread. Leave this to stand for 15-30 minutes, so the bread really soaks up the custard.
10. Sprinkle cinnamon and sugar on top.
11. Bake for 25-35 minutes at 180 C. Check after 25 minutes and if you want a crunchier topping, bake for longer.
12. Serve, but be careful because the raisins will be very hot and could burn you.
I was skimming through a food magazine when M caught sight of a picture in it. “Mmmm,” she moaned. Wondering what pleased my girlfriend so much, I looked. It was a recipe for bread and butter pudding.
I’ve actually never made that before, and when I went to the store to get the ingredients, I was rather embarrassed to be seen buying white bread. I’m a whole-wheat-and-seeded type, which perhaps makes sense given my vegetarian ways and my health-consciousness. But I figured I was buying this white bread to make something nice for M, and that was okay. Although I did put one of those heavy-duty loaves of organic rye bread in my shopping trolley as well, just to feel a bit better about it.
I changed the recipe in the magazine quite a bit. It called for nutmeg and whole milk, neither of which I like, and I added raisins and cinnamon. I also baked it for less time than was called for, and that turned out to be a good thing, because when I served it to M, she said she liked the soggy pieces underneath best. I liked the crunchy pieces on top, so that shows that at the very least, M and I are suited to eating bread and butter pudding together.
This was a soothing treat for a rainy, chilly afternoon. It was great to be able to turn the oven on when M came home and to have the flat get suffused with the smell of vanilla and cinnamon. Even if I did keep thinking about the breadandbutterfly in Lewis Carroll’s Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There!
Ingredients:
butter
.25-.5 cup raisins (or a hefty handful)
6 slices of white bread (apparently stale works well)
35 g sugar (since I don’t like weighing ingredients, this is about 1/8 of a cup)
1 whole egg and 1 yolk (if you double this recipe, use 1 whole egg and 3 yolks, for an extra-rich custard)
1 vanilla pod
300 ml double cream
cinnamon
raw/demerara sugar
Instructions:
1. Butter the pan.
2. Boil some water and soak the raisins in it for 5-10 minutes, so they get plump.
3. Cut the crusts off the bread and butter the slices. Then slice each piece on the diagonal, so you have 12 triangles.
4. Layer the bread in the pan in two rows, with the points facing towards the top, and place drained raisins in between the layers. Sprinkle any remaining raisins over the bread, but remember that they might get burned during baking.
5. Beat the eggs with the sugar in a mixing bowl and set aside.
6. Split the vanilla pod and place it in a pot along with the double cream. Warm the cream over a medium flame, without letting it boil.
7. Remove the vanilla pod, scraping out the seeds as you do so, putting them in the warm cream. Save the vanilla pod for another use, such as making vanilla sugar.
8. Slowly pour the cream into the egg mixture, whisking the entire time.
9. Pour the custard over the bread. Leave this to stand for 15-30 minutes, so the bread really soaks up the custard.
10. Sprinkle cinnamon and sugar on top.
11. Bake for 25-35 minutes at 180 C. Check after 25 minutes and if you want a crunchier topping, bake for longer.
12. Serve, but be careful because the raisins will be very hot and could burn you.
Friday, 1 October 2010
A Soothing Meal - Butternut Squash and Pesto Penne
My stomach hasn't been feeling well lately, probably due to stress at work. So I haven't felt much like cooking or eating. But I was feeling weak, and so last night I wanted to make a proper meal.
I had a butternt squash in the fridge. I'd planned to roast it with agave nectar and cream, but that didn't seem like a wise move under the circumstances. So I baked it for about 10 minutes at 200 C to soften it, and then M, who often serves as my sous chef extraordinaire, peeled and chopped it into 1 cm pieces. Then I put it back in the oven for another 15 minutes.
Meanwhile, M chopped an onion, and I carmelised it in a pan with olive oil and agave. I love using agave for cooking; it's not as sweet as sugar or honey, and it has a lower GI index, for those who are concerned about such things.
I put the dried whole-wheat penne in with it for a couple of minutes, so it would pick up some of the sweet, oniony flavour. I poured boiling water over it and let the penne boil for 10 minutes, until it was nicely al dente.
I drained the penne and onion, added two containers of chopped tomatoes, warmed it all up. I added the squash, some yogurt, and a couple of heaping tablespoons of red pesto.
And dinner was served. It soothed my stomach and filled us both up.
Ingredients:
1 butternut squash
1 onion
1 Tbs olive oil
2 tsp agave (or honey or sugar)
2 servings of pasta (see the bag/box for the right amount -- I often make double to amount so M and I both have leftovers for lunch the next day; also, whole-wheat is healthier and tastier)
400-800 grams chopped tomatoes, or 1-2 tins (depending how tomatoey you like it)
3 Tbs Greek-style yogurt
2-3 Tbs red pesto
Instructions
1. Chop and peel the squash (or bake it first to soften it, then chop and peel it).
2. Roast the squash pieces for 15 min at 200 C.
3. Chop the onion.
4. Carmelise the onion in olive oil and agave.
5. Add the pasta to the pan and coat it with the onion and oil, and let it toast for a couple of minutes, stirring constantly.
6. Add boiling water and boil for 10-12 minutes, until al dente.
7. Drain.
8. Add the tomatoes and warm.
9. Add the yogurt, pesto, and squash pieces.
10. Mix well and warm.
11. Serve and enjoy.
I had a butternt squash in the fridge. I'd planned to roast it with agave nectar and cream, but that didn't seem like a wise move under the circumstances. So I baked it for about 10 minutes at 200 C to soften it, and then M, who often serves as my sous chef extraordinaire, peeled and chopped it into 1 cm pieces. Then I put it back in the oven for another 15 minutes.
Meanwhile, M chopped an onion, and I carmelised it in a pan with olive oil and agave. I love using agave for cooking; it's not as sweet as sugar or honey, and it has a lower GI index, for those who are concerned about such things.
I put the dried whole-wheat penne in with it for a couple of minutes, so it would pick up some of the sweet, oniony flavour. I poured boiling water over it and let the penne boil for 10 minutes, until it was nicely al dente.
I drained the penne and onion, added two containers of chopped tomatoes, warmed it all up. I added the squash, some yogurt, and a couple of heaping tablespoons of red pesto.
And dinner was served. It soothed my stomach and filled us both up.
Ingredients:
1 butternut squash
1 onion
1 Tbs olive oil
2 tsp agave (or honey or sugar)
2 servings of pasta (see the bag/box for the right amount -- I often make double to amount so M and I both have leftovers for lunch the next day; also, whole-wheat is healthier and tastier)
400-800 grams chopped tomatoes, or 1-2 tins (depending how tomatoey you like it)
3 Tbs Greek-style yogurt
2-3 Tbs red pesto
Instructions
1. Chop and peel the squash (or bake it first to soften it, then chop and peel it).
2. Roast the squash pieces for 15 min at 200 C.
3. Chop the onion.
4. Carmelise the onion in olive oil and agave.
5. Add the pasta to the pan and coat it with the onion and oil, and let it toast for a couple of minutes, stirring constantly.
6. Add boiling water and boil for 10-12 minutes, until al dente.
7. Drain.
8. Add the tomatoes and warm.
9. Add the yogurt, pesto, and squash pieces.
10. Mix well and warm.
11. Serve and enjoy.
How I Met My Girlfriend
I'd only been living in this city for a few months when I met the woman who is now my girlfriend at a party. I was working 70 or more hours a week at a very stressful job, living in a half-furnished flat, and my previous girlfriend had dumped me completely out of the blue the week before.
It was not the best of times.
So there I was, sitting on a couch at a party consisting of lesbians and bisexual women, chatting away to a colleague/friend, when I noticed a cute dykey sort across the room. Towards the end of the party, I got a chance to talk to her. I'll call her M on the blog. M and I spoke for a few minutes; it was the day before Valentine's Day, and we said something about the crassness and commercialisation of the holiday. I was giving a public lecture a few days later and I invited her to come along.
Later, she tweeted that she thought I was lovely but frighteningly intelligent. And that started off a months-long volley of flirtatious comments via Twitter. I wonder how much modern technology influences relationships today.
So she came to my talk, and to the pub after, and then we stood chatting in the car park. She didn't say all that much, so it's more correct if I say that we stood there, on that cold February evening, and I chatted while she listened. When we said good-bye and I was driving home, I thought, "M must think I talk too much. I don't like she liked me at all." A small part of me thought, "But did you see how she looked at you?" I dismissed that thought, and I told myself that I had better not dare to get interested, because I was just newly single again, and it didn't seem likely that this woman would go for me anyhow.
A week and a half later, I had some furniture delivered. Not being much of a DIY dyke, I struggled for a very long time trying to put a coffee table together, and I finally gave up. In my defense, I should point out that at least I figured out how to put the pillows correctly onto the sofa.
I mentioned all this to M, who then told me how good she was with tools, and she offered to come over and help. We met up at the local grocery store, because my place is a bit difficult to find and also, I figured we could shop together and I could cook her something for dinner to thank her for her help. In the store, I thought she was annoyed with me, because she wouldn't tell me what she wanted to eat. It turned out, however, that she doesn't really enjoy the process of thinking about food and cooking as much as I do, but I didn't know that then.
Back at my flat, M got out her tools, and I got out mine. She went to work on the coffee table and I started to make dinner. The coffee table was put together in less than five minutes. Dinner took a bit longer and it was not my greatest dish (pasta with broccoli and tomato sauce). That's because I was distracted. M looked so cute, so focused, while she was screwing the legs to the top of the table. And the whole situation made me smile, too, because it felt very butch/femme. I was the femme, cooking dinner while the butch was doing DIY. At least I wasn't wearing a dress, apron, and heels.
Later, I "helped" put the sofa bed together, but that was very difficult for me because she was bending over and I could see down her shirt. It was a nice view. A tempting view.
When everything was done, we lay down on the sofa bed together. It was quite comfortable, but I felt strange. I was exhausted from the stress of the past weeks and months and my heart was racing at the same time.
M left soon after, in something of a rush, and I still wondered, "Does she even like me as a friend?"
So I first cooked for her about two weeks after we met. The evening was memorable, even if the meal itself wasn't.
It was not the best of times.
So there I was, sitting on a couch at a party consisting of lesbians and bisexual women, chatting away to a colleague/friend, when I noticed a cute dykey sort across the room. Towards the end of the party, I got a chance to talk to her. I'll call her M on the blog. M and I spoke for a few minutes; it was the day before Valentine's Day, and we said something about the crassness and commercialisation of the holiday. I was giving a public lecture a few days later and I invited her to come along.
Later, she tweeted that she thought I was lovely but frighteningly intelligent. And that started off a months-long volley of flirtatious comments via Twitter. I wonder how much modern technology influences relationships today.
So she came to my talk, and to the pub after, and then we stood chatting in the car park. She didn't say all that much, so it's more correct if I say that we stood there, on that cold February evening, and I chatted while she listened. When we said good-bye and I was driving home, I thought, "M must think I talk too much. I don't like she liked me at all." A small part of me thought, "But did you see how she looked at you?" I dismissed that thought, and I told myself that I had better not dare to get interested, because I was just newly single again, and it didn't seem likely that this woman would go for me anyhow.
A week and a half later, I had some furniture delivered. Not being much of a DIY dyke, I struggled for a very long time trying to put a coffee table together, and I finally gave up. In my defense, I should point out that at least I figured out how to put the pillows correctly onto the sofa.
I mentioned all this to M, who then told me how good she was with tools, and she offered to come over and help. We met up at the local grocery store, because my place is a bit difficult to find and also, I figured we could shop together and I could cook her something for dinner to thank her for her help. In the store, I thought she was annoyed with me, because she wouldn't tell me what she wanted to eat. It turned out, however, that she doesn't really enjoy the process of thinking about food and cooking as much as I do, but I didn't know that then.
Back at my flat, M got out her tools, and I got out mine. She went to work on the coffee table and I started to make dinner. The coffee table was put together in less than five minutes. Dinner took a bit longer and it was not my greatest dish (pasta with broccoli and tomato sauce). That's because I was distracted. M looked so cute, so focused, while she was screwing the legs to the top of the table. And the whole situation made me smile, too, because it felt very butch/femme. I was the femme, cooking dinner while the butch was doing DIY. At least I wasn't wearing a dress, apron, and heels.
Later, I "helped" put the sofa bed together, but that was very difficult for me because she was bending over and I could see down her shirt. It was a nice view. A tempting view.
When everything was done, we lay down on the sofa bed together. It was quite comfortable, but I felt strange. I was exhausted from the stress of the past weeks and months and my heart was racing at the same time.
M left soon after, in something of a rush, and I still wondered, "Does she even like me as a friend?"
So I first cooked for her about two weeks after we met. The evening was memorable, even if the meal itself wasn't.
Welcome!
Welcome to my new blog, where I'll post about all things vegetarian and queer, including lots of recipes.
I'm a thirty-something woman living in England. I'm a vegetarian and I love cooking and baking, especially for my appreciative, albeit carnivorous, girlfriend. I decided to start a blog about the things I'm making because recently I decided to challenge myself to make at least one new dish per week, and I want to share my experiences with others.
Hope you find some food for thought here! Thanks for reading!
I'm a thirty-something woman living in England. I'm a vegetarian and I love cooking and baking, especially for my appreciative, albeit carnivorous, girlfriend. I decided to start a blog about the things I'm making because recently I decided to challenge myself to make at least one new dish per week, and I want to share my experiences with others.
Hope you find some food for thought here! Thanks for reading!
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