Deceptively easy grilled eggplant: Vegan MOFO Post 3

Eggplants, in my gardener's heart, are one of the loveliest foods you can grow. Truthfully, I only knew two ways of cooking them in my "pregan" days: as a centerpiece in Eggplant Parmesan and also folded into my Dad's Indian Chicken Curry recipe. And yet I have continued to grow them anyway, because it was such a delight to watch their progress, much like witnessing a living painting. I tend to check on them every day in the summer just to marvel at them.

Here are some lovely babies that grew in my garden this year and last.

Early summer, the eggplants are just peeping out their little heads.

D'awww....

They come in so many shapes and sizes.

If you listen hard enough, you can hear them giggle as you lift the leaves.

Eggplants are native to the Indian Subcontinent, which includes the countries of India, Bangladesh, Bhutan, India, Nepal, Pakistan, and Sri Lanka. Wherever I've traveled (unfortunately never to these countries -- yet) I've always sought out the markets to stare blissfully at the eggplants and the hot peppers (a post for another day). France was no exception. I lived there for 9 months back in my early twenties and knew them there as "aubergine," which builds off the french word "alberge," which is an apricot. Like apricots, eggplants are fruit, though we often lump them into the vegetable category. They're also in a class of fruits called "nightshades," which I purposely never looked up because I love the romantic images it conjures up and don't want the scientific information to mar up my poetic thoughts. In English-speaking countries, we came up with the name eggplant, since several varieties do resemble the eggs of a chicken.

Last year, I had the best intentions to cook up my healthy harvest. Alas, it was one of the many fun tasks I never found time to do. And they all ultimately found their way to the compost pile. "NOT THIS SUMMER!" I vowed. And true to my word, I tried a very simple recipe which kept me satisfied all summer and allowed my crop to escape waste: grilled eggplant.

I feel funny even posting it because it's so darned simple. But I feel it's my responsibility to share because it's died-and-gone-to-Heaven-good. Though Ryan still does not enjoy eggplant (it's a texture thing for him, I think) he has often been good enough to grill the eggplant for me, as grilling is one of his summer pleasures.

The eggplant we grew was typically long and slender, so we could just make one slice in the center and they were ready. If you have a larger eggplant, I'd recommend slicing them into 3/4 inch-wide pieces.

Then you can paint them with some olive oil on both sides. (I'm continuing with the living painting analogy here.)

It's hard here for me to focus on the eggplant, when my favorite person is looking so camera-ready.

Throw on some kosher/sea salt and pepper all over them.

And then you throw them on the grill. I think it was a medium-ish heat. Just grill each side a few minutes until it starts to look cooked. You want the inside to be soft.

Here's the final product, ready to eat, skin and all. My mouth is watering looking at this. When you bit into it, the eggplant kind of melts in your mouth and has a very round, satisfying taste that pleases the whole palette.

We (I) enjoyed the eggplant for dinner with a salad that came from the garden (except for the canned cannellini beans), corn on the cob, rice with peanut/tahini sauce, and Swiss chard (cooked up with a teensy bit of oil, lots of garlic, barely a brush of salt, and some cider vinegar splashed in at the end).

As I said, this is an easy eggplant recipe, but the taste is unbeatable. Sometimes all you need is a little olive oil and salt to make the true flavors shine. I really hope you try this, because you'll have a new favorite to throw into your routine.

What are some old stand-bys in your routine?

Balloons, Fat Ladies, and Potatoes That Party!

Thanksgiving is one of the few holidays that remains unadulterated. It's about coming together, eating brightly-colored, comforting food, and taking some time out to reflect on what we are most thankful for. I've always loved it.

When I was little, it meant getting up early to watch Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade on our livingroom TV. The big balloons were the best part, and I'd get giddy when Snoopy or Kermit rounded awkwardly about the city block corner, bobbing down at the elated crowd. The woodstove would be crackling and sending off comforting waves of heat and I'd dance around to the marching band music in my footie pajamas. All was right in the world.

My mom was a whiz at making the house cozy. She'd make Fat Lady's Dessert in the morning and I'd watch the parade while consuming a heaping bowl of it. (It was a mixture of a homemade strawberry whipped cream mixed with lots of fruit -- pineapples, mandarin oranges, bananas, frozen strawberries, apples -- and walnuts. It was a delightfully naughty way to begin a holiday! (It got its name, I'm told, when my mother ate an entire serving bowl of it when she was pregnant with me and uncomfortably overdue.) The whole house would smell of happiness as the day's meal cooked.

I think Thanksgiving was exciting too because it was like the Start-Your-Engines time for Christmas. From Thanksgiving until Christmas (and even later), there would always be a Christmas album playing, usually Nat King Kole, Bing Crosby, Gene Audry, Johnny Mathis, or Andy Williams. And the Muppets John Denver Christmas album of course. My grandparents, like clockwork, gave us grandchildren advent calendars on Thanksgiving, which officially began the exciting countdown. Gramma always found the coolest, sweetest calendars, always covered with silvery blue glitter. She had an eye for that kind of thing.

And Thanksgiving Night at my grandparents house? Talk about cozy. The house was filled to the brim with loud, laughing relatives who seemed to adore us kids. We were well-loved children! We'd usually play a few violent games of Spoons*, force mountains of dessert in our already-full bellies, and then Jane Riley, my grandmother's best friend since they were girls, would finally get pushed into the living room to play the piano. At this junction, she'd usually protest that she wasn't any good -- she was -- but someone would inevitably force her to sit down at the old upright piano. Then her amazingly nimble fingers would run across the keys and she'd lead everyone into enthusiastic Christmas caroling, which we'd belt out for two hours or more. (Made possible because my organized Gramma had typed up Christmas carol books with all the verses to all the songs. So a person had no excuse not to sing!)

People say that the whole Norman Rockwell family is a myth, but my friends, I was the lucky gal who landed in that picture, though there were probably more plaid shirts and inappropriate jokes in our version. Our family gatherings were such wonderful times, full of raucous laughter, playful teasing, and endless hugs.

In the past few years when I was considering vegetarianism, a small part of me was afraid that if I gave up meat (read, turkey) then I'd be turning my back on those irreplaceable memories. That I'd somehow be turning my nose up at my family, particularly those who were no longer with us. As I've mentioned before, though, seeing the reality of the animals' plight wiped those worries from my brain. And now that I've been vegan for 7 months? I can't believe I worried about breaking tradition. The tradition for me wasn't about the turkey. (You're probably thinking "Duh!" but bear with me -- I'm a bit slow.) It was about the memories and the wonderful smells and tastes of all those vegetables! The tart "ping!" of the homemade cranberry relish, the buttery squash (vegan butter tastes the same!), and, oh lordy, the party potatoes.

Party potatoes. We had those at every family get-together. A carryover from the 60's/70's, it is a mashed potato dream, with butter, sour cream, and cream cheese. You cringe, but you never tasted such wonder. Though it sounds heavy, it wasn't. It was the perfect blend of flavors. Party potatoes were what happiness would taste like if you could somehow serve it up. I decided to give it a whirl with vegan products.

Now, I should point out that I was not holding my breath. As I plopped all the ingredients together, I did not have a good feeling about how things would turn out, and had prepared myself for a disappointing culinary disaster. But I had to try! :)  Much to my absolute delight, though, this new version tasted (drumroll.............) exactly like my grandmother's! Wow! And no cows hurt! Double wow!

Here is our beloved recipe if you'd like to try it yourself and have a serving of heaven on your Thanksgiving plate! 

Party Potatoes
8-10 potatoes
1 cup vegan sour cream (Tofutti is awesome)
1 tsp garlic salt
1 tsp onion salt
vegan butter (Earth Balance is the best)
8 oz of vegan cream cheese (Tofutti or Follow Your Heart are both good)
paprika

Preheat oven to 350. Peel, boil, and drain potatoes. Beat sour cream and cream cheese. Add potatoes gradually. Add spices. Put in a 2 qt. ungreased casserole dish and dot with butter. Sprinkle paprika on top. Bake until brown on top. (About 30 minutes? I forgot to time it.) Makes enough for about 6 small servings.

We've also test-driven a couple of grain-based meats that we both like. Ryan's favorite of the two was the Gardein Stuffed Turk'y, which you can find the the freezer section. And my favorite was the Field Roast Hazelnut Cranberry Roast En Croute, also in the freezer section. Both are great! You can't go wrong.

I may also make the Stuffed Acorn Squash recipe from The Vegan Table, which has lots of yummy holiday recipes! I'm really lucky, though, in that my stepmother is going all-out to make sure there is plenty of animal-friendly fare at the table. Isn't that so sweet? I offered to take care of it, but she insisted. My heart is still all warm and glowing. :)

I had mentioned yesterday that there were ways you could help the turkeys who suffer unimaginably for our palates. First off, don't eat them. (Life goes on, I promise. In fact, it gets way better!) Second, consider following the lead of Ellen DeGeneres and Adopt/Sponsor a Turkey through Farm Sanctuary. (There is probably a similar program at an animal sanctuary near you!)

Here's a fun video of a woman who helps place rescued turkeys. (It gets intense at 1:32 - 2:26, so skip that part if it's too much for you. But don't miss the rest of it! The kids snuggling with these turkeys is too much and seeing them enjoy a nice blow-dry simply has to be seen to be believed.) 

So -- what are fun old or new traditions that you enjoy on Thanksgiving? What is your favorite dish?

*Sometime before Thanksgiving, I'll post the game Spoons. You absolutely must play this game with your own family!

What the #&%$ is "suet" ??

 Carol and Bill Donovan, my grandparents!

First off, Gramma would hate the title of this post. She was a big believer in clean language. :)

When I was little, the biggest treat was to go to Gramma and Grampa's for the night.  I'm not joking -- to this day, I don't think I've ever felt the intense joy and anticipation (with the exception of waking up on my wedding day) that I felt knowing that Gramma would be picking me up in her old sky-blue VW bug. I had the most wonderful set of grandparents a girl could hope to have. I miss them every day.

Their house was a marvel. It wasn't a super-fancy house. It wasn't big. Just a two bedroom, one bathroom home that they had raised three boys in. The two bedrooms were on the second floor, which had no other rooms, aside from a walk-in attic that housed interesting hat boxes and several cozy robes that Gramma would save for all her grandkids' visits. (Maybe this is where my obsession with cozy nighttime-wear began?) The front hallway, Gramma's office, the diningroom, the kitchen, Grampa's office, and the bathroom were all arranged rectangularly around the two stairwells that went upstairs to the bedrooms, and downstairs to the cellar. This setup of rooms provided us grandkids a sort of O-shaped racetrack, which we would run around and around, particularly during big family gatherings, always knocking into the adults who were doing boring things like talking.

Every inch of that house held some fascinating object. Photos galore. (Gramma documented our history well!) Statuettes from all her sons' travels across the globe. Upon the shelves you'd find countless little frog and owl figurines nestled upon interesting rocks she had found during her walks -- not in a "Precious Moments" obnoxious kind of way, but like they belonged there in their little home. Gramma would pick them up and admire them, often cooing to them how wonderful they were. The seat of the old, out-of-tune but well-used upright piano housed sheet music from their glory years and an assortment of maracas. As the family business was an office supply and checks store, Gramma always had a well-stocked drawer full of markers, pencils, and other art supplies, all kept in recycled coffee cans which still wafted that telltale scent every time you opened the drawer. On the front of her cupboards, she neatly taped favorite pictures of animals she'd find on calendars or in magazines. As well, she had on one cupboard the old Yankee adage, "Use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without," which they lived by. They walked the talk.

I could write a book about that house. I dream of one day buying it back. In fact, about three years ago, I drove by there in the early morning and decided to ask the owners (who were very kind) if I could have a look in the backyard for old times' sake. The yard had barely changed. Same brick path that Gramma had energetically laid herself leading to the back woods, where we would walk early each morning. So what did I do? I admired all the tall evergreens that surrounded what used to be their old fishpond, looked towards the back screened-in porch, and started to cry. Hadn't seen that coming. But it felt like nothing had changed and that any moment, I'd see Grampa saunter onto the porch with his newspaper in hand and would hear Gramma calling me to join them for a grilled cheese sandwich and homemade cowboy cookies. They felt so close at that moment that it tore me in two.  But as hard as it was, it was so sweet to stand there again and feel like I could reach out and hug them. (They were both phenomenal huggers. You felt flooded with love when they hugged you.)

It was from this unusual couple that I developed a love of birds. ("Aha!" you're thinking, "she's finally getting to the point!")  They had the most intricate bird-feeding system. Bird feeders everywhere, strung on heavy wire, with contraptions to discourage the clever squirrels from dominating the scene. I was lucky enough the inherit one of their dome feeders, which is pictured  below!

As well, they had suet cages. Suet is actually raw fat from butchered animals. If I remember correctly, Gramma used to get it for free from the butcher. A few years ago, I tried that route, but the butchers looked at me blankly and said, "What the #&%$ is suet?" and still looked puzzled after I explained it to them. So I ended up finding suet cakes at a local store at a greater cost than "free."  But suet is a favorite among many birds, particularly woodpeckers, blue jays, and nuthatches. In the winter, they can't get enough of the stuff, as the calories help them survive the cold winters here. Check this link for some suet cages from my favorite local birdfeeding store, Wild Birds Unlimited.

A typical suet cake you can buy

So what's a newly vegan birdwatcher to do?

I adore seeing birds come to the birdfeeding station just outside our kitchen window. I especially love the downy woodpeckers, and have missed seeing them since I stopped using suet. Knowing, though, that the meat industry would benefit from my dollars if I bought a typical cake of suet, I decided to find another way. It was one of those tasks I kept putting off and finally, last weekend, I found a solution. After doing a search online and making some adjustments, I ended up with some animal-friendly suet!

Here are the ingredients you'll need if you want to try it yourself!

 

1 Cup vegetable shortening

I Cup chunky peanut butter

3 Cups stoneground cornmeal

1/2 Cup white or wheat flour

Optional:

birdseed

kitchen scraps (animal-free would be kinder!)

dried fruit

Unsalted nuts, chopped

1) Put the shortening and peanut butter in a saucepan. Mix and cook over medium heat until melted.

2) Add other ingredients and mix (have a sturdy wooden spoon for this part...I used a plastic spatula and broke the handle! It's not that it was overly difficult to stir, but the plastic just didn't hold up.)

3) Once it's all mixed and uniform, let it cool for about five to ten minutes. 

4) Place in "Molds" and put into the freezer. (I just looked into my recycling bin and used what I found there for molds. A couple of plastic take-out trays worked great, but you could also use shallow cereal bowls.)

5) They'll be ready in a jiffy. I think mine was ready in only 1/2 hour. Pop one into your suet cage and keep your eyes open! If you've never fed birds before it could be a week or two before you see any activity. After that, you should have a steady stream of visitors!

Here is what your newly-filled suet cage should look like ... (I had to break the cake up a bit to make it fit.)

This is the view of one of our birdfeeding stations from our kitchen window.

My Dad made us an amazing birdfeeder which we have in another section of our yard. Sadly, the glass broke a second time -- my bad, not my Dad's -- so we need to find some good plexiglass and set it right. (So sorry, Dad, if you're reading this! I love our birdfeeder!)

Speaking of Dad building things, he also made us a roosting box last Christmas. A roosting box gives temporary shelter and warmth to birds in winter during nights of severe cold, when they can otherwise succumb to the cold and die. The hole is at the bottom, not at the top where you typically see it for birdhouses. This allows the heat from the birds' bodies to rise to the top where it can't escape. There are little perches inside for the birds to sit on and even mesh inside for the woodpeckers to cling on.

Interestingly, we had a pair of starlings take it over early this spring. They didn't seem to care that it wasn't meant to be a birdhouse.We were nervous at first, because we figured any babies would fall right out of the hole in at the bottom.  The starlings, however,  seemed unconcerned and spent several weeks industriously building their nest, occasionally coming out to yell at any other birds who got too close. Soon there were barely audible cheeps emerging from the hole, and two harried parents, flying in and out of the house at breakneck speed. Over the course of two weeks, the cheeps got louder and lower, to the point where it sounded slightly frightening. The parents must have surely been suffering from postpartum depression, 'cause those babies were demanding!

Soon we noticed curious feathered heads peeking out of the hole. And one lovely day, I actually witnessed the parents slowly woo the babies -- which were startlingly full-grown -- out onto the perch. I managed to be there at the very moment when the last baby took his first flight from the house. After that none of them ever came back to live in their little green house. It was an amazing thing to watch!

Roosting box built by my dear Dad! (See the nest sticking out the bottom?)

Last year, we invested $45 in a heated birdbath, which is essential to helping your new feathered neighbors survive the winter. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it last winter, but they actually bathe in the bath, even on the most frigid of days! Keeping their feathers clean allows for better insulation. Plus, drinking water is hard to come by in the winter.

And since we are perusing the yard, here is what our garden looks like now. I'm still harvesting dinosaur kale (in the back) and collard greens (which have become a bit insect-eaten, but are still great in smoothies!)

Most of the other crops have been pulled up and put into the compost, which is quite full now! Once it decomposes, it will go back into the garden...

Gramma and Grampa never got to see our home and birdfeeders, but I always feel them with me when I sit with a cup of tea or mulled cider and watch the wide variety of birds enjoy the feast. There is something timeless and very comforting about feeding birds, and I am very thankful that my grandparents shared that passion with all of us! And I'm glad I can continue to do it in a way that is kind to all animals. :)

In fact, at the school where I teach, I worked with the other third grade teachers to create a birdwatching project in the garden area outside of our classrooms! We got a grant a few years ago for binoculars, birdbooks, and some birdfeeders (to supplement the empty dilapidated feeders we found in the garden). The students' parents donate birdseed and the third grade classrooms take turns filling the feeders. The majority of our students have never had this kind of experience before, and they go wild with excitement at seeing the array of birds coming to visit! By the end of the year, kids can correctly identify an impressive amount of birds, including red-tailed hawks! I always get such a thrill from watching them fall in love with the birds and feel a little of my grandparents' world seeping into theirs.

Gramma and Grampa -- I hope in some weird way you are able to read this. I miss you and am indebted to you for all the wonderful memories you gifted me with!

Love,
Your Trina-Banina-Banana-Banoona

PS. Here is a great article in The Boston Globe about my grandparents and some of the amazing things they did. :)