Rice Pudding

Last week I had a dream that Paragon Family Restaurant in Hobart was closed down and it was just about the biggest tragedy that could ever happen to me, and I was about ready to throw myself into traffic and declare the rest of my life not worth living.

In reality, if Paragon closed I would be sad because of the memories it conjures (post-church brunch with Grandpa Detterline, late night coffee with friends, and one rather awkward Christmas Eve), but all-in-all I wouldn't care too much as the restaurant has had little bearing on my life since I moved to Illinois and became a vegan. And looking back I think the food was perhaps a little subpar, bland, and greasy and nothing I would enjoy as an adult anyway.

But as a kid I ate at Paragon a lot. Like, a lot a lot. Being a child of habit I mostly just had a cheeseburger deluxe but there were certain special items I would order on occasion in order to give myself little nuggets of happiness, like strawberry waffles topped with whipped cream, or a julienne salad that came in a dish the size of a punch bowl. I never did partake in the infamous francheezie, and I will always remember the barfalicious smell of flaming cheese. But there was one little dish that came free as a dessert that I was perhaps most fond of for its simplicity and unassuming nature. Yes, I felt a kinship to the rice pudding, for it was quiet and sweet, and gooey and chubby, and it waited around patiently for someone to remember it was there.

Well, rice pudding, my old friend, I remember you, and the modest joy you gave me on many a Indiana night, and although we've been separated for quite some time, I've decided it was about time to rekindle our old flame and reminisce about the good ole days we shared back on Route 6. Of course, now you are dairy-free, and I'd rather eat you for breakfast then after a pile of salty french fries, but to me you are the same as you have always been: modest, trustworthy, and delicious.

Rice Pudding

Ingredients:

Rice
3 cups rice milk
1 tsp. cinnamon
1 tbs. maple syrup
1 cup rice

Cream
2 cups of cashews (soaked in water at least four hours)
1 banana
3/4 cup rice milk
1 tsp. vanilla
1 tsp. cinnamon
2 tbs. maple syrup

Directions:

Rice
1. Combine rice milk, cinnamon, and maple syrup in a saucepan and bring to a boil.
2. Add rice, lower heat, cover, and simmer for about an hour, until all the liquid is absorbed.
3. Chill rice in the refrigerator for at least 2 hours.

Cream
1. Combine all ingredients in a blender and blend until smooth.
2. When rice has cooled, mix it with the cream.
3. Serve chilled topped with cinnamon for breakfast or dessert.
4. Let peace wash over you.

What Vegans Eat: Mango Lassi Popsicles

Are mangoes weird? I'm not sure, but I'm using my occasion of making mango lassi popsicles as further evidence that vegans are not weird. Is making your own popsicles weird? I could totally be doing something counter-productive here. At any rate, I wanted to make a snack to incorporate into a mostly raw diet that I implemented for a few days after birthday feasting. I also wanted an excuse to use the new popsicle molds Bill gave me for my birthday. Here's what I did:


Step One: Pick out your popsicle slingin' music. Nothing says "detox" and "mangoes" like Johnny Cash and June Carter.

Step Two: Get your copy of Ani's Raw Food Kitchen by Ani Phyo. Sift through the million pretentious photos of the author mingling at the market and eating like a gerbil outside an old school L.A. TV repair shop and find the recipe for the Mango Lassi smoothie. You will be freezing this smoothie to create your popsicles. Google "lassi" to find out what the heck it means.

Step Three: Assemble your army of ingredients. Even though it is "raw," there are no strange components to this smoothie, because, alas, smoothies are pretty much raw by their nature. This recipe calls for water, mangoes, raw almonds, dates, and a vanilla bean. You will be replacing the dates with maple syrup because a little boy who lives in your apartment thinks dates are icky. You will also be using pure vanilla extract instead of a vanilla bean because buying one vanilla bean for a batch of popsicles seems like a pretty yuppie thing to do.

Step Four: Peel the mangoes. It's tough as hell, but don't be discouraged. It can also be slippery once you get part of the rind off. But you can do it. You will eat this mango. Dammit you can do it! If a little dainty lemur can tame this fruity beast, then so can you. You will.

Step Five: Don't cry when the peeler slips and slices the tip of your finger open. Frickin lemurs. Who do they think they are?

Step Six: Haphazardly wrap a bandage around your finger to prevent blood from dripping into the smoothie.

Step Seven: Pretend you know how to chop a mango. Seriously. What is going on in the center of this thing? Whose idea was it to put a bone china saucer in the center of a piece of fruit? Is this really vegan?

Step Eight: Put everything in the blender.

Step Nine: Realize your blender probably can't handle all of that mango, and take a few cups out of the blender as a safety precaution.

Step Ten: Blend everything together and fill your popsicle molds. Leave some room at the top of the molds, because the smoothie goop will potentially expand while freezing. Then realize you could have halved the recipe because there's still a ton of smoothie left.

Step Eleven: Place the molds into the icebox. They need to freeze for at least four hours. While this magic is taking place, drink the leftover smoothie out of the blender and then do the dishes. Watch some YouTube clips of lemurs being all adorable and junk. Tickle your cat's paws while she's sleeping. Read National Geographic. Dust the furniture. Sleep. And then, after hours of torture enjoy your popsicle!

What Vegans Eat: Chocolate Chip Cookies

People think that vegans can barely eat anything, and that the things they can eat are incredibly weird. So I'd like to start a series of posts entitled "What Vegans Eat" to dispel these horrific rumors. The other day I made a batch of utterly normal chocolate chip cookies. The only thing abnormal about them was that the yum-factor was out of this world. Below is a pictorial documentation of the event, in which the subject (me) demonstrates how easy being a vegan cookie monster can be.

Step One: Grab your copy of Vegan Cookies Invade Your Cookie Jar by Isa Chandra Moskowitz  and Terry Hope Romero, the goddesses of vegan cookbooketry. Then open it to the first recipe in the book: "Chocolate Chip Cookies." Note that the name  of the recipe is not "Carob Chip Gluten-free Oaties" or "Hemp Seed Granola Squares."

Step Two: Gather your ingredients. This recipe calls for brown sugar, white sugar, canola oil, almond milk, tapioca flour, vanilla, flour, baking soda, salt, and chocolate chips. You can buy everything from the grocery store, except the tapioca flour, which is used as a binding agent in place of egg. Don't freak, you can always just use cornstarch. Also note my excitement to discover that the generic organic chocolate chips from Dominicks are vegan, saving me a the hassle of chopping Bakers chocolate or busing it to Whole Foods. Also, if almond milk frightens you, you can use soymilk, which is becoming less and less terrifying to mainstream eaters every day.

Step Three: Put on your bitchin' apron. Pre-heat the oven, and grease the cookie sheets.














Step Four: Put on your cookie-bakin' music, in this case, Pepi Ginsberg:

Step Five: Mix your sugars and your liquids vigorously until it turns into an amazing caramel-like goo. Do it with a fork so that you can't slurp it all up with a spoon at this point, because you kind of need this mixture for the cookies you are about to bake.

Step Six: Add the flour, baking soda, and salt, a.k.a "The Science." Think about the amazing chemical reactions that are happening, throw back your head and shout "Muahahahahaha!!! I am a god!"

Step Seven: Add those Safeway Organic chocolate chips, which really are probably the best vegan chocolate chips you've ever tasted. Mark one in the Dominicks column in your Jewel v. Dominicks Competition Spreadsheet.

Step Eight: Interrupt your husband so that he, too, can marvel at the amazingness of these chips. Take the bag away before he eats them all.

Step Nine: Drop the cookies onto the cookie sheets and pop those babies into the oven.

Step Ten: This is probably the most important step. Give your husband a spatula and let him scrape every last drop of the cookie dough out of the mixing bowl. This both raises his spirits and makes one less dish you have to wash.

Step 11: Take the cookies out of the oven, and let them cool. Break a few and get melted chocolate all over your face by trying to eat them too soon. Get all smug knowing that they could not have come out any better if you had used eggs and dairy milk.

Step 12: Get confirmation. "These are some damn good cookies."












See, that's really it. Twelve easy steps to vegan chocolate chip cookies. I didn't use seaweed or tofu. I just used basic cookie ingredients and a lot of vegan love. And that's one thing that vegans eat more than anything else. Love.