Salted Caramel Crispy Rice Treats

My diabetic mother humored me by making me Rice Krispies Treats on occasion. Okay, she made this sugary "snack" only when I begged, pleaded, and kicked my feet like a lunatic suffering from narcotics withdrawal.

Between working full-time as a medical professional, raising two daughters, and battling a chronic illness that eventually claimed her life, my mother had no time for cooking. Even a recipe as simple as blending cereal with melted marshmallows and butter proved more than she could handle.

When I learned how to cook and do my own laundry toward the end of elementary school, I made my first batch of Rice Krispies Treats, and felt like I had crossed the magical threshold of Adulthood.

Today, as an actual adult who cares deeply about animal welfare and diabetes prevention, I had to give up this so-called snack that is made with ground-up bits of animal skin and bones.

But a few months ago, I discovered a vegan recipe for a rice cereal dessert in Alicia Silverstone's new book The Kind Diet. I modified Alicia's recipe this weekend by adding two teaspoons of cinnamon and two teaspoons of ground flaxseed.

While Salted Caramel Crispy Rice Treats aren't as crunchy as their nutritionally-inferior cousin, I am confident they would win any taste test, hands down.

What you need:
1/2 a bag of brown rice cereal, which you may find in the cereal aisle of most grocery stores
1 3/4 cups of brown rice syrup
3/4 cup of natural crunchy peanut butter
1/2 tsp. sea salt
2 tsp. cinnamon
2 tsp. ground flax seed, which you should be able to find in your grocer's baking aisle
a 9 X 13 pan or glass dish
a large glass or ceramic bowl

What to do:
Pour cereal into the ceramic bowl and set aside. Heat the brown rice syrup over medium heat and add salt. When the syrup starts to bubble, add the peanut butter and stir vigorously. Add the cinnamon and flax seed, and keep stirring until the sauce thickens. Pour the sauce over the cereal and stir until well combined. Use a wooden spoon or spatula to transfer the mixture to the pan; flatten and allow to cool for about an hour. Cut into squares and serve.

Eat Your Veggies: An Impromptu How-To Guide

I don't want to be the Stacy London of the blogosphere, you know, that person who is always telling other people what to eat and what not to eat.

For this reason, I adore the historian James E. McWilliams, who refuses to "preach" a "patronizing list of eating dos and don'ts" (117) in his book Just Food, which is the book that solidified my veggie monogamy.

Because I've done my research on veganism and environmental sustainability, I believe Williams when he writes that "if the world continues to eat meat at current rates, there's simply no way to achieve truly sustainable food production" (120). We can't save the world, or feed the world for that matter, if we keep eating meat at each meal. Something has to give, and that something is the meat-centric Western diet.

If you can't go vegan, at least consider doing your best at vegetarianism as often as possible.

McWilliams, who confesses to eating the occasional chicken (and loving it) suggests that Americans should conceive of meat as the "new caviar" (117). By all means, eat meat. Yet when you eat meat and other animal products, appreciate such food for what it truly is: a precious natural resource. Then, eat meat rarely.

If you want to embrace a veggie-based diet, start small. Do not immediately give up meat altogether. Begin by eating vegetarian meals twice a day. Remember, vegetarians generally eat eggs, dairy, and fish. Vegans do not eat any of the above.

Each week, allow one day in which all meals are vegetarian. When you feel ready, substitute a vegan meal for a vegetarian meal a couple of times a week. In a few months, you may want to substitute two vegan meals for the vegetarian meals, as you consider eliminating animal-based meals altogether from your diet.

At a time when you feel most confident in your ability to maintain a vegan diet, transition fully to veganism. Give yourself permission to eat animal products on occasion, as you would caviar.

Below you will find a grocery list for stocking a vegan kitchen.

Grains
quinoa*
couscous
whole wheat pasta (check to make sure eggs were not used)
cornmeal
whole wheat flour
unbleached, stone ground all-purpose flour
milled flaxseed (also makes a great egg-replacer)
slow-cooking oatmeal (the perfect breakfast)

Beans, Legumes, and Soy Products
black beans (canned or dried)
red beans (canned or dried)
garbanzo beans (canned or dried)
kidney beans (canned or dried)
pinto beans (canned or dried)
lentils (red, yellow, or brown)
black-eyed peas
split peas
edamame
tofu
textured vegetable protein*

Canned and Bottled Items:
diced tomatoes (organic and low-salt)
pumpkin
sundried tomatoes
kalamata olives
tahini paste*
natural nut butters*

Dried Fruit and Jam:
raisins
dried plums
dates
shredded unsweetened coconut
natural fruit jam (no-sugar added)

Nuts and Seeds:
almonds
pecans
walnuts
cashews
sunflower seeds
unhulled sesame seeds*
raw pumpkin Seeds*
natural, no-sugar nut butters*

Oils
olive oil
coconut oil
safflower oil
grapeseed oil

Sweeteners and Baking Ingredients:
grade-A maple syrup
brown rice syrup*
baker's chocolate
grain sweetened carob chips*
grain sweetened chocolate chips*

Top Five Spices
cinnamon
turmeric
cumin seeds
smoked paprika
crushed red pepper

Top Five Herbs
basil (purple and green)
cilantro
dill
parsley
thyme

Veggies We Buy Often
acorn squash
baby spinach
butternut squash
broccoli
carrot chips (carrots sliced into discs)
cabbage (red and green)
cauliflower
cucumbers
kale
eggplant
mushrooms
peppers (red, yellow, orange)
radishes
red onion
seaweed chips*
sweet potatoes
red potatoes

Fruit We Buy Often
frozen strawberries
frozen blueberries
frozen peaches
apples
avocado
bananas
grapefruit
grapes
mango
pineapple
strawberries

*You may have the best luck finding this item at a health food store.

Top Five Books For Compassionate Foodies
James E. McWilliams: Just Food:Where Locavores Get It Wrong And How We Can Truly Eat Responsibly
Jonathan Safran Foer: Eating Animals
Karl Webber: Food, Inc.
Michael Pollan: In Defense of Food
Thich Nhat Hanh and Dr. Lilian Cheung: Savor

Citrus Avocado Spinach Salad

Now is the time of year when I like to remind my relatives, who live in The North, that I spent the weekend in shorts and flip-flops. But as I am breaking out the sunscreen, I am also beginning to avoid the oven.

We live in an old house with a suitably persnickety temperament; our air conditioning refuses to wage battle with the oven which, when switched on, will rapidly heat the kitchen to sauna-like conditions. So for us, "spring" often translates to "salads."

Citrus Avocado Spinach Salad, which I know I promised more than a week ago (that makes it taste better), accomplishes two goals. One, the oven remains untouched. Two, if you (like me) spend the early days of spring humming "Dayenu" and fantasizing about the perfect haroset, this salad contains no chometz.

What you need:
1 lemon, juiced
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 shallots, finely minced
6 oz. spinach
1 avocado
1 grapefruit, peeled and cut into cute chunks
1/3 cup raw pumpkin seeds

What to do:
Whisk the olive oil into the lemon juice. Pour the spinach into a pretty bowl. Use a small flatware spoon to scoop pieces of avocado onto the spinach. Add grapefruit, shallots, and pumpkin seeds. Add dressing and toss with your hands (for added fun).

Btw: Using your hands to toss everything helps keep the avocado from getting mushy.

Not Your Mimi's Cornbread

The first time I heard Carl call his grandmother "Mimi" I summoned all composure to suppress a torrent of giggles. I had no reason to laugh, since I grew up calling my grandmother "Bubbie." Still, "Mimi" seemed like an odd term of endearment for one's grandmother, although I couldn't explain why I thought so. Knowing when not to irritate Carl with my condescending Yankee-isms, I saved my giggles for the day I listened to him tell me all the words Southerners have to describe one's urine.

Those with good manners would deem my last sentence inappropriate table talk, but please continue reading.

My Bubbie "cooked" (and I use this word loosely) from boxed mixes she kept on dust-free shelves in her two-bedroom apartment that always smelled like Windex and moth balls. When we ate at the white Formica table in her dining room, my sister and I scanned our food for (a) flecks of tin foil that had escaped the pan to dust our food like specks of mica on dirt (b) errant red press-on fingernails that had enjoyed short-lived lives atop Bubbie's fingers and embedded themselves in the meals we ate.

While I was learning what Sweet'n Low tasted like in mandelbrot (like Tylenol), Carl was watching his grandmother work culinary miracles in the house where she had raised and fed four children.

To this day, everything Mimi cooks inspires my awe. Her date pudding remains my absolute, all-time favorite dessert and I am struggling to give this recipe a vegan makeover in time for Mother's Day, during which I plan to cook and eat the food our mothers and grandmothers passed on to us. I hesitate to tamper too much with date pudding, since the recipe originated with Mimi's mother, who served the dessert each Sunday at the boarding house she ran in Hickory, North Carolina.

For Carl, Mimi's cornbread is the golden foodstuff of legend, and I have only just begun to work my vegan magic on this dish. Carl's initial response to Not Your Mimi's Cornbread?

"It doesn't need butter." Perhaps, the best compliment he has ever paid me.

BTW: We ate Not Your Mimi's Cornbread with a Citrus Avocado Spinach Salad so watch for that recipe later this week. Oh, and I adapted the cornbread recipe from Alex Jamieson's The Great American Detox Diet.

What you need for Not Your Mimi's Cornbread
1 cup cornmeal
1 cup almond milk or soy milk
1 cup thawed frozen corn
1 tsp smoked paprika
1 tsp. baking powder
2 tbsp sliced jalapeno, from a jar
1 serving of vegan egg substitute, whisked
1 tbsp olive oil
1 cast iron skillet

What to do
Preheat oven to 450 degrees. Heat olive oil in the skillet on a low flame. Mix dry ingredients, then make a well in the center and fold in wet ingredients. Once mixed, pour the batter into your skillet and bake for 15 minutes.

Nigella's Chickpeas with Rocket and Sherry (with a Southern Twang)

While excessive apologies make me squirm, I should say "sorry" for vacating the blog. Sorry, dear blog, for the hiatus. Blame spring, blame school, blame spring quarter.

Now I'm back and have a story to share. It goes like this: When I found out this winter that I was teaching a noon to 2 p.m. class, my first thought was: WHEN AM I GOING TO EAT LUNCH??? (Yes, when it comes to meals I always think in capital letters and employ punctuation liberally.)

The first day of school snuck up on me last week, and that sucker found me feeling more jittery than pleasurable at 8 a.m. on a Thursday morning. So I did what any terrified, first-time teacher would do. I uncorked a bottle of cream sherry.

Only the intense stare of my morally-superior husband prevented me from pouring that sherry into a crystal glass, and then taking a few generous sips. Why, you ask, did I have a bottle of sherry in my hands just after sun-up?

I wanted my back-to-school lunch -- the lunch that followed my first class -- to be special.

Lately, I am obsessed with Nigella's Chickpeas with Rocket and Sherry and claimed this recipe as The One. Btw: Stateside, we call "rocket" by the snootier name of "arugula." As a cheapskate who happens to live in Louisiana, I substituted turnip greens for the pricey rocket. Not bad, if I do say so myself.

Hopefully, my students will never know how frequently I thought of the lunch awaiting me as I tried to make a good impression, teach them something useful, and stop myself from sounding like a crazy old person when I said things like, "Stop rustling your papers" or "Is it just me, or is it really hot in here?" and punctuated my sentences with a long, deflated um.

Super Sundried Tomato Squash Soup with Snaps to Nigella Lawson

I like to make sure Carl eats well. Despite how 1950s that idea sounds, I have not defected from the divine sisterhood of third-wave feminists, of which I am a lifetime member. To borrow loosely from Gail Godwin's vocational musings in her novel Evensong, cooking makes more of me (no pun intended). We should all enjoy what makes more of us.

On Sundays, I usually serve leftovers to save time, but last night's dinner of chickpeas and arugula simmered in cumin seeds, olive oil, and cream sherry was so fantastic that I had to begin from scratch today.

Btw: I thank my cousin Gail, a nutritionist, for teaching me how to make Sundried Tomato Squash Soup when she visited during Mardi Gras 2008. Thanks also go to my shero Nigella Lawson for the delish salad recipe.

What you need for Sundried Tomato Squash Soup:
1 butternut squash
1/2 8.5 oz. jar of sundried tomatoes in oil, rinsed and drained
1/2 white onion chopped
1 clove garlic minced
1/2 tsp smoked paprika
1/2 tsp cayenne pepper
pinch of nutmeg
1 tbsp olive oil
6 cups water
2 cubes low sodium vegan boullion cubes (I used Rapunzel)

What to do:
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Halve the butternut squash and scoop out seeds. (You may save them to roast for a snack.) Brush the squash halves lightly with olive oil and place skin side down on a cookie tray. Roast for an hour.

In the meantime, saute the onion and garlic in a stock pot. Add water and boullion, bring to a boil and let simmer for 30 minutes. Then add sundried tomatoes. Simmer until the squash has finished cooking, then allow the broth and squash to cool for another half hour.

Remove skins from squash with a vegetable peeler. Cube squash and add everything to the pot. Use an immersion blender to puree. If you do not have an immersion blender, transfer half the soup to a standard blender and puree in batches. (Times like these definitely make me wish we owned an immersion blender.) Transfer the soup to a heatproof bowl as you blend. Once finished, return the soup to the pot and add spices. Simmer until ready to serve.

Woman's Seed Savory Granola

Please excuse my super geeky title that alludes to Paradise Lost. I've had my nose buried in Milton's poem for the past three months and now it seems only "fit" that I name a recipe after my favorite bad-girl gardener.

If you've not read Paradise Lost, I apologize for my momentary lapse into social awkardness -- and for outing myself as a Milton-loving-vegan-English-graduate student. (I know, how original.)

Woman's Seed Savory Granola fuels my immodest appetite while I write, read, and write some more. A delightful cinnamon-chili powder spice mix makes this granola the greatest snack since sin.

What you'll need:
3 cups old-fashioned oatmeal
1/2 cup sunflower seeds, unsalted
1/2 cup pumpkin seeds, unsalted
1/4 cup unhulled sesame seeds
4 tbsp brown rice syrup
1 or 2 tbsp(s) cinnamon
1 tbsp chili powder
a smidgen of coconut oil or safflower oil

What to do:
Preheat your oven to 350 degrees. Lightly oil a 9 x 13 in. baking dish. Pour in the oatmeal. Then add 2 tbsp brown rice syrup. Use two flatware tablespoons to toss the oatmeal into the syrup, until everything coats nice and glossy. Pour in the sesame seeds, pumpkin seeds, and sesame seeds. Add 1 more tbsp of syrup and toss some more until well mixed. Add spices with the remaining syrup and mix again.

Bake for 25 to 30 minutes depending on your oven.

BTW: Eat as an in-between meal snack, or while reading Paradise Lost, Areopagitica, Tetrachordon, The Doctrine and Discipline of Divorce, and De Doctrina Christiana.