Striking while the iron is hot

Preparing the Christmas dinner was both exciting and inspiring. Less than a week later and I have been putting my ideas into action.

I made a second nut roast, based on much the same ingredients. However, I added two ingredients to help retain structural integrity: vegetable stock, and flour. It worked. Or as French people might say: il marche - it walked. Not that French people are likely to be interested in eating nut roast.

I also made more bread sauce. Why have I never made this before? Although far from quick, it is so easy, and so tasty. I have made a lot, and have frozen some in pots for future Sunday evening meals.

As for the sauteed cauliflower and broccoli, I could not resist preparing these again, this time as a chow mein (garlic, ginger and shoyu) flavoured dish. It is barely possible to imagine any food that could be more satisfactory.

Christmas dinner

It was not a massive, pig-out meal. To be honest, it was neither the most accomplished nor the tastiest meal I have ever cooked. (It is often the case that the tastiest meals are not primarily about the quality of recipe, food or preparation, but about how hungry I feel for some particular food: in the right mood I find that lovage soup, or roasted olives, or vegan sausages dipped in mustard, or vegan guacamole, can hit the spot in the dead-centre of the bullseye.) However, it was wholesome, satisfying, full of flavour and rich in variety. With the exception of the peas and peppers, everything was from fresh. The Mediterranean vegetable melange came in a pack, peeled and chopped, but everything else was prepared from scratch.

How could things have been improved?

1. I wish that some of the food had come from the garden. Next Christmas.
2. The Mediterranean vegetable melange was opportunist, and a good idea, but I could have done it better myself. I am not sure about the sweet potato in the melange, although it went well with the butternut squash. Next year I shall prepare two courses: a Mediterranean vegetable course of tomatoes, aubergines, courgettes, onions, olives and garlic, served with homemade ratatouille, followed by a British vegetarian course, to include sweet potato and butternut squash mash, and swede and carrot mash.
3. Boiling the cauliflower seems so uninspired. Maybe next year I shall fry some cauliflower and broccoli florets with baby patty-pan squash, and toss them in shoyu.
4. Whilst my nut roast tastes good, it never achieves physical coherence. I am reluctant to use much oil, in an effort to keep the high fat content as low as possible.

Here is what I prepared for Christmas dinner:

Potatoes (first parboiled in vegetable stock) sprinkled with freshly-grated black pepper and roasted in sunflower oil
Carrots (first parboiled in vegetable stock) garnished with fresh rosemary and roasted in sunflower oil
Mediterranean vegetable melange: sweet potatoes, butternut squash, courgettes and red onions, garnished with fresh rosemary and roasted in olive oil
Brussels sprouts, boiled, and served in a glaze of lemon juice and toasted sesame oil
Cauliflower boiled in vegetable stock
Petit pois (from frozen, and sadly boiled without fresh mint)
Swede, boiled, and mashed with vegan margarine, ground nutmeg and freshly-ground black pepper
Bread sauce, made from freshly-baked homemade wholemeal bread, onion, garlic, unsweetened soya milk, fresh thyme, curry (not bay) leaves, ground nutmeg and freshly-ground black pepper, simmered for 40 minutes
Nut roast, made from the crumbed crusts of freshly-baked homemade seeded, wholemeal bread, onion, garlic, capsicum peppers (from frozen), peanuts, brazil nuts, sunflower seeds, herbs and spices, and studded with pumpkin seeds for decoration
Cranberries, freshly cooked, slightly sweetened with vegan sugar

This was not just Christmas food, it was clear-conscience, pure vegan Christmas food.

Happy vegan Christmas!

East Asian cuisine

In common with most British people, I have a good deal of familiarity with Mediterranean cuisine: pizza, pasta, polenta; tomatoes, aubergines (eggplant), courgettes (zucchini); olives, onions and garlic; basil, oregano and rosemary. Moving to the eastern Mediterranean, I include hummus, felafels and pitta bread: staple vegan food when eating out in Paris, Berlin or Kyoto. Likewise, I am familiar with a wide variety of Indian dishes, and although I have never visited India, I have eaten in Indian restaurants from Edinburgh to London, Bruges to Toulouse, Tokyo to New York. Consequently, when I cook Mediterranean food (several times each week) or Indian food (fortnightly), I have a good idea about what it is supposed to taste like.

I do not know what most East Asian food is supposed to taste like. As a vegan, I have never eaten in a Thai, Indonesian or Malaysian restaurant. I have twice eaten in an excellent partly-Vietnamese restaurant in Berlin, and very occasionally eat in vegetarian Chinese restaurants, such as in Boston or New York. In Japan we ate in so few Japanese restaurants (we ate felafels and Indian food in Tokyo and Kyoto, and Mediterranean food in Tokyo), that I have as much familiarity with Japanese food in New York. Consequently, when I cook East Asian food, I have little idea about whether a person from the country would recognise what I had prepared.

For me, the ultimate case in point is my miso soup. I make it with miso, lots of miso. I also use vegetable stock, onions, garlic, capsicum (bell) peppers, sauteed shi-itake mushroom, fried tofu, arame (seaweed), ramen noodles, basil and black pepper. It is delicious ('oishi'), but we never tasted anything like it in Japan. Similarly my Chinese sweet and sour vegetables is packed full of vegetables (such as bamboo shoots and water chestnuts) and flavours (such as pineapple and vinegar), whereas in Chinese restaurants the sweet and sour has been a sweet, sticky sauce packed with MSG. My chow mein cauliflower and broccoli florets are sauteed in garlic, ginger and shoyu. My sauteed mushrooms, tofu and mange tout in black bean sauce is extremely moreish, but I doubt that it has a trace of authenticity. My South-East Asian noodle soup/stew, made with coconut milk, tomatoes, capsicum (bell) peppers, baby corn cobs, arame (seaweed), spring onions, garlic, basil, vegetable stock, turmeric and chilli pepper, rarely lasts long, but who knows where the recipe would be recognised?

Does it matter if the food tastes good? To some extent, yes it does matter. I enjoy using authentic ingredients, such as tempeh for Indonesian dishes, and wasabi, shoyu and mirin on my sushi. Without an intent towards authenticity there is a danger that everything I cook will eventually taste like variations on a single theme.