Raw Strawberry Cake

I have been baking a lot of yummy vegan treats lately. Back in the fall I thought I was really on the path to being an at-home vegan, and really, for the most part I am. There are oodles of reasons to become a vegan and I’m not going to go into them now. However one of the best reasons I think is that it encourages experimentation in the kitchen. Instead of relying on the same old milk-eggs-butter combination, you are introduced to flax eggs, almond milk, and applesauce as substitutes. In many cases the vegan recipe is tastier and lower-fat than its dairy counterpart. (Chai snickerdoodles are maybe my favourite cookie; and I just whipped up a batch of vegan chocolate chip cookies which are a contender for the title). Last weekend I attempted a raw strawberry “cheese”cake. There is nothing remotely cheesy about this cake so I prefer to call it just a raw strawberry cake. At any rate, I was pleased with the results. Happily, the recipe involves no vegan cream cheese, which is both expensive and not very good: the “meat” of the cake is soaked, pulverized cashews. I think if I had a better food processor the cake would have been smoother and creamier, but alas I’m waiting for it to kick the bucket. This recipe also introduced me to alcohol-free vanilla, something that isn’t easy to find (I got mine at Whole Foods) but I don’t think I’m going back. The alcohol-free version is thicker and richer and just more vanilla-y. I’m a convert!

I’d suggest making this if you have some health conscious friends coming over in the summer: since the cake is raw, you want to use fresh, juicy strawberries. Your friends will appreciate the low fat, fairly healthy dessert: you will appreciate how easy it is to make this cake and the fact that you make it the day before.  Not surprisingly, I pilfered this recipe from my favourite vegan website, the Post Punk Kitchen. You can follow the instructions there, or my version below. The original includes a “fluffy white frosting” (which is the white dollop on top of the cake you see in my photo below). I didn’t find this added much if anything to the cake, so I’m not including it the instructions below.

Grease a 9-inch springform pan with coconut oil.

To make the crust, combine in a food processor:
1 cup pecans
1 cup almonds (I used blanched)
1/4 tsp salt
Pulse until fairly fine. Then add 4 pitted and chopped medjool dates; pulse them in until the dough squishes and holds slightly between your fingers. Press into the bottom of a cake pan. Wash out your food processor.

To make the filling, pulse 3 cups of cashews which have been soaked at least 3 hours. 3 hours is totally acceptable but you can leave them overnight if that’s easiest. Once the cashews are nice and crumbly, add:
1/2 cup agave syrup
1/4 cup fresh lime juice
1 tsp alcohol-free vanilla extract
Puree until the mixture is smooth as you can get it. Add up to 1/4 cup water to ensure a good, smooth consistency. With the food processor running, add in 4 cups of hulled, halved strawberries. I think you might get away with adding another cup of strawberries so if you’re feeling adventurous, give it a try for extra strawberry-goodness. Once the strawberries are incorporated, add in 1/4 cup of melted coconut oil slowly, with the food processor running. Pour the filling into the pan, cover with plastic wrap and put it in the fridge for at least 4 hours.

Before serving, combine about 2 cups of chopped strawberries with 3 tablespoons of agave syrup and mash together to make a coulis. Spread a bit of the coulis on each plate and top with a piece of cake.

This is a very un-vegan suggestion, but this cake would probably be extra tasty with whipped cream (is there some way to get whipped cream to taste of strawberry?) or frozen yogurt on the side.

Sleepwalk with Me, by Mike Birbiglia

I think it’s important to have books like Sleepwalk with Me on one’s bookshelf. At the end of a stressful day or perhaps after watching a frightening movie (*ahem*), light-hearted, humorous books can give you a bit of perspective and make you forget just how bad a crummy day really was. Personal favourites include anything by David Sedaris and the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy series. Tina Fey’s Bossypants was awesome for this purpose. I received Sleepwalk with Me as a Christmas present, after my lovely husband remembered me recounting a hilarious segment by Mike Birbiglia on an episode of This American Life. I was at the gym when I listened to it and I could not contain my chuckles. Unfortunately I have to report being a bit disappointed by this book. Don’t get me wrong: there were definitely some laugh-out-loud moments (much to my husband’s annoyance as these always seem to happen when I’m reading in bed and he’s trying to sleep) and the stories were by and large amusing. My beef is with the writing. Birbiglia writes how he speaks. This is a problem I tend to encounter with my first-year students and don’t expect from a book I’ve purchased. But then, Birbiglia is a stand-up comic, not a Nobel prize winner for literature. It’s possible that my expectations may have been boosted too high by the glowing endorsements on the back from some of the funniest people on the (English-speaking) planet: Eddie Izzard, Nathan Lane, Denis Leary, and Lewis Black, to name a few. When John Hodgman writes, for instance, “Sleepwalk with Me is so funny, inspired, and jealous-makingly well written…” you’ll excuse me for my perhaps unrealistic expectations. But maybe I’m being too hard on Birbiglia. The guy does have some truly funny stories, some of them about sleepwalking, and at no point did I want to put the book down. And it certainly did the trick: every time I read it my life felt just a little better.

An aside: I just googled this book for linkage purposes and discovered that it’s now a movie, starring Mike Birbiglia, released in Aug 2012. Apparently I am out of touch. But in case you’re wondering, yes, I will see the movie.

Telegraph Avenue, by Michael Chabon

Dear Michael Chabon,

Despite your best efforts, your latest novel, Telegraph Avenue, was mostly an entertaining read. Of course getting to the story involved the Herculean effort of digging through obscure references (threefold moon goddess?), words not in my Kobo dictionary (mau-mau? segundigravida?), and the longest sentences I’ve encountered outside of dry academic journal articles. And then there were metaphors that just didn’t even seem to make any sense at all. (“Her son laid down his eating implements, carved from the tooth of a sea unicorn, and sighed.”) . My question to you is simple: Why? I can see that you are trying to tackle race issues through the record store co-owners, Archy (Black) and Nat (White). These two characters, along with their wives who are themselves business partners in a midwifery practice, are fascinating, if somewhat unbelievable. Archy is the son of former martial arts movie star Luther Stallings, whose former best friend is the most influential politician in Oakland and who committed a murder with Luther, back in the day. Nate’s son has a crush on Archy’s son, who turns up out of nowhere to announce his identity at age 16. The two wives, Gwen and Aviva, are dealing with several lawsuits associated with the tensions that arise between doctors and midwives when home births don’t go as planned. These characters are all over-written in Telegraph Avenue, yet their stories were compelling enough to keep me reading. But I almost didn’t. I almost got fed up with sentences like, “Archy picked up Rolando, snoozing in his caddy, and made a formal transfer of custody to the grandfather, England turning over Hong Kong, mournful trumpets of farewell, a weird ache in Archy’s heart like the forerunner or possibly the distant memory of tears.” Overwritten, needlessly wordy, unnecessary descriptions. Good chunks of this book were a downright slog to get through. But I persevered. And it feels like an accomplishment. Michael, I know you are capable of toning it down. You did it successfully with The Mysteries of Pittsburgh. The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay, your other big success, was vastly too long but I do have fond memories of that novel.  You know how to write a good story; now you just need to find a good editor. Until you do,  I will approach your next work with trepidation.

Very Green Vinaigrette

When I sat down last week to my customary lunch of baby kale and/or spring mix salad with the expected accompaniments ( avocado, chopped bell pepper, and carrot), I actually felt revulsion. After eating this lunch for several months (and as a mainstay of many, many dinners), I was finally sick of those soggy leaves coated in my usual olive oil & balsamic vinaigrette. As a vegetarian with a tendency towards veganism, I never thought I would see the day when I would feel ill at the sight of a salad! Well, that day had come. The convenience of buying salad leaves in those plastic clamshell containers has been overridden by my gag reflex. It was time for a new salad routine. Having promised to bring a salad as my contribution to a friend’s dinner party, I was inspired to actually go through the salad section of my numerous cookbooks, something I had rarely done before. In Tal Ronnen’s The Conscious Cook, I came across what looked to be a fairly strange recipe for a romaine salad with kohlrabi and cucumber and an herby vinaigrette. I typically use none of those ingredients and unusual is just what I needed to get over my salad boredom/aversion. It was a good risk to take: the vinaigrette in particular was a hit at the dinner party. I’ve included my adapted version of the recipe here. The salad itself, as I mentioned, included cucumber and kohlrabi, but I think the vinaigrette would go well with just about any veggie you choose.

2 garlic clove
1 shallot
a handful of fresh parsley
1 sprig of fresh terragon
1 sprig of rosemary, needles only
3 tbsp white wine vinegar
1 tbsp agave nectar
salt to taste
2 tsp Dijon mustard
1/4 cup plus a bit more olive oil (add more if you like a less vinegary tasting dressing)

I used a Magic Bullet to grind up the ingredients but you could use a food processor or blender. Put the first 6 ingredients in first to grind, then add the others and grind them together. This makes enough to coat about 8 servings of salad.

Chocolate Pumpkin Muffins

It was Sunday and I had been unsuccessfully fighting a virus for the past few days. Apparently staying up late and drinking far too much had not boosted my immune system enough to ward off the sickies so I was resorting to the rather boring traditional method of staying in, drinking (non-alcoholic) fluids, and resting. But I wasn’t sick enough to warrant lying on the couch all day, plus I was craving chocolate. And not chocolate in bar form, of which I had plenty, but rather in a soft, flaky, cakey form. Remembering that I had bought a can of pumpkin a few weeks prior, I quickly scooted on over to my current favourite vegan baking site, Post Punk Kitchen, where the creative Isa has yet to disappoint me. Sure enough, I found a recipe for a chocolate pumpkin loaf. However since both my loaf pans were dirty, and sick people shouldn’t be doing the dishes, muffins it was! And since I had no applesauce, as the original recipe calls for, I simply added more pumpkin. Taking them out of the oven, I had my doubts that they’d baked properly. They looked….wet. The tried and true toothpick method yielded gooeyness but I was not convinced it wasn’t simply from melted chocolate chips. Since they were vegan I decided to risk not putting them back in the oven. Plus I desperately wanted to eat them immediately. Turns out: good decision. They did sink a little, but they are soft and moist without being undercooked and everything my virus-addled body was craving. I cannot wait to make them again.  I’m writing out the recipe here as I made it, but I encourage everyone to head on over to the PPK and check out the original recipe, which has some other ingredient suggestions, and do some hunting for other tasty recipes while you’re there.

You need 2 bowls for this recipe, both a decent size.

In one bowl, mix:
1/4 cup pumpkin purée
2 tbsp canola oil
1/3 cup cocoa powder (try to use Dutch processed cocoa and not a cheaper one like Fry’s)

In the other bowl, mix:
1 1/2 cups flour
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
1/8 teaspoon ground cloves
3/4 teaspoon baking soda
3/4 teaspoon salt

Boil some water in a kettle. Pour 1/3 cup of boiling water into the bowl with the cocoa powder and mix well until it is smooth. Then add:
1 cup pumpkin puree
1 cup sugar
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

Mix until combined.

Mix together half the flour mixture with the chocolate/pumpkin mixture. Add 1 tbsp of boiling water to help incorporate it. Then add the rest of the flour and repeat the process. Do not overmix. Add 1/2 cup of chocolate chips and mix just to incorporate. Measure batter into lined muffin cups and bake about 30 minutes at 350. The beauty of making muffins versus a loaf is the cooling time is so much less with muffins!

The Universe Within, by Neil Turok

Since I was a little kid, I’ve had a fascination with the universe. I had a little telescope, a glow-in-the-dark night sky book, and a home planetarium, and yes, in case you are wondering, I was the cool kid on our street. One of the best moments I shared with my dad was in 2003 during  the Northeast blackout: he and I spent a couple hours lying in deck chairs staring into a sky filled with the most stars I have ever seen.  I dreamed of becoming an astronomer until it became cruelly apparent that I was not going to pass grade 12 physics without the help of my little sister (I squeaked by; she got an A+). Our physics teacher, Mr. Chung, had disliked me since grade 9 when he sent me, along with a group of friends, to the principal’s office for yakking incessantly outside his in-progress science class. This would be an excellent excuse for my pathetic grade in physics were it not for the stark reality that I was terrible at chemistry, math (I didn’t even attempt calculus or algebra), and biology (although with a massive effort I managed a solid B). By grade 11 it was clear I was not to be an astronomer or, a cardiologist, my second-choice career. Luckily by this point I’d discovered an affinity for languages so had decided to become a diplomat. Crisis averted.

Despite this change in life path, I’ve always retained a sense of wonder about the workings of the universe and how it all began. So I was excited to learn that the 2012 Massey Lecture would be given by Neil Turok, Director of the Perimeter Institute for Theoretical Physics, in Waterloo, Ontario. I didn’t get a chance to actually attend the lecture held in Vancouver but I purchased the compilation book, entitled The Universe Within. I was completely captivated by this book: it gives a chronological account of the evolution of our understanding of the universe and of physical laws, beginning with Anaximander in 600 BC and ending with M-Theory. The best thing about this book is that instead of glossing over difficult theoretical concepts, Turok actually tries to explain them in a way that those of us inept at math can actually begin to grasp. For example, Turok describes the discovery of the photon and the beginning of quantum physics: “The strange story of the quantum begins with the humble electric light bult. In the early 1890s, Max Planck, then a professor in Berlin, was advising the German Bureau of Standards on how to make light bulbs more efficient so that they would give out the maximum light for the least electrical power. [...] Planck’s task was to predict how much light a hot filament gives out. He knew from Maxwell’s theory that light consists of electromagnetic waves, with each wavelength describing a different colour of light. He had to figure out how much light of each colour a hot object emits. Between 1895 and 1900, Planck made a series of unsuccessful attempts. Eventually, in what he later called an ‘act of despair’, he more or less worked backward from the data, inferring a new rule of physics: that light waves could accept energy only in packets, or ‘quanta’. The energy of a packet was given by a new constant of nature, Planck’s constant, times the oscillation frequency of the light wave: the number of times per second the electric and magnetic fields vibrate back and forth as an electromagnetic wave travels past any point in space. The oscillation frequency is given by the speed of light divided by the wavelength of the light. Planck found that with this rule he could perfectly match the experimental measurements of the spectrum of light emitted from hot objects. Much later, Planck’s energy packets became known as photons” (61-62). Don’t you feel smarter now? I know I did. If you enjoyed explanations like that, this book is full of them. I fully anticipate reading the whole thing again at some point just to drill in some of this knowledge. Maybe after a re-read, I’ll be ready to tackle Stephen Hawking’s A Brief History of Time...a humbling experience the first time around. But that’s for a different post.

The Marriage Plot, by Jeffrey Eugenides

I spent Christmas vacation in the UK with my in-laws; the first time I’ve spent the holidays away from my own family. I was worried that I would feel sad and not very Christmas-y and wanted to absorb myself in a good novel. Having read Jeffrey Eugenides’ previous novel, Middlesex, and whipping through it in a matter of days, I thought his most recent novel would be a good choice. Unlike Middlesex, which centres around the life of a girl who discovers she is a hermaphrodite, The Marriage Plot contains no such fascinating first-person accounts. Instead, the novel features three twenty-something students at Brown University (two guys and one woman) and chronicles (in the third person) their relationships and experiences before and after graduation. There isn’t anything particularly interesting about any of the characters (save for Leonard, the manic depressive), yet the story is utterly gripping for some reason. I don’t think I can chalk it up to the need for escapism while visiting my in-laws, because a good chunk of the book was read while on a side trip to Barcelona with my husband. In fact, the book was so good that I have noted it down to be re-read at some point in the future: I raced through it so eagerly the first time that I’m certain I missed some grand metaphors or deep meaning in my haste. I highly recommend it.