17 - Baked Marinated Teriyaki Tofu

This is not a recipe from the past. It’s a recent discovery. I found it on the Internet—searching for a recipe to replicate the quite expensive little chunks of teriyaki tofu sold at Trader Joe’s. Now that Sam eats tofu—and we’re all eating less meat—this is a pretty yummy meat substitute—and very easy to prepare.
I’ve made this many ways—often leaving out most of the ingredients—and it’s always delicious—so don’t worry if you don’t have everything on hand. If you don’t have time to marinate, that seems ok too.


Ingredients
1 (16 ounce) package firm tofu or extra firm tofu, in water
3-4 tablespoons soy sauce
1-2 minced garlic clove, to taste
1 tablespoon fresh grated ginger, to taste
1 tablespoon sesame oil
1 tablespoon rice vinegar
1-2 teaspoon honey or sugar
1 tablespoon olive oil

Preparation:

Drain tofu and cut into 1" cubes or ¼ inch slices.
Mix all other ingredients together except olive oil.
Pour marinade over tofu and cover. Refrigerate overnight or longer.
Lightly grease baking pan or sheet with olive oil.
Arrange tofu in single layer on sheet, making sure not to forget the garlic and ginger from the marinade dish.
Bake at 350 degrees for 50-60 minutes, flipping tofu at least once during the process, until brown and slightly crispy.

You can then use it in salads, or stir fries, or just gobble up plain.

18 - Ratatouille

Way before any children, vegetarian or carnivore, I was cooking some splendid vegetarian dishes. One of the first--or at least one of the most ambitious was ratatouille. For years, I closely followed the instructions of Julia Child. She, who could often be so casual, admonished (at least in my memory) that the dish was improved immeasurably by preparing each ingredient separately.  During the year we lived in Paris, around the corner from the splendid market on the Rue Mouffetard, I felt compelled to follow her every instruction.

Although I eventually slacked off, I have such excellent memories of those Parisian dishes, this is only u a slight variation on that first inspiration.
If you have the time and inclination you should give it a try:

Peel one eggplant (or two smaller ones--you want a pound--figure it out while shopping--and remember it as long as you can). Cut into long slices (not rounds) about 3 inches long, 1 inch wide, and 3/8 inch thick. Cut one pound of zucchini into pieces more or less the same size. Put the vegetables in a colander, toss with a teaspoon of salt. Drain for about half an hour.

Heat about four tablespoons of olive oil in a large heavy skillet. Dry the eggplant and zucchini and without crowding (you'll probably have to do several batches) sauté about a minute on each side until lightly browned. Remove to another dish.

In the same pan, add more oil of necessary, and cook about 1 1/2 cups of thinly sliced yellow onions (about 1/2 pound), 2 thinly sliced green peppers for about ten minutes. Add two to four cloves mashed garlic and salt and pepper.

Peel, seed and juice one pound firm, ripe, red tomatoes as follows:

Drop tomatoes one or two at a time in boiling water to cover, and boil for EXACTLY 10 seconds. Remove. Cut out the stem. Peel off the skin starting from the stem hole.
Cut tomatoes in half crosswise--not through the stem. Squeeze each half gently to extract the seeds and juices. Then slice into 3/8 inch strips.

Lay the strips over the onion and pepper mixture. Season with salt and pepper, cover the skillet and cook over low heat for about five minutes.

Place a third of this tomato mixture in the bottom of a 2 1/2 quart casserole. Sprinkle one tablespoon of parsley over it. Arrange half of the eggplant and zucchini on top, then half the remaining tomatoes, another tablespoon of parsley. Put in the rest of the eggplant and zucchini and the last of the tomatoes and parsley.

Cover the casserole and simmer over low heat for about ten minutes. Uncover, tip and baste with the rendered juices. Raise heat slightly and cook uncovered for about 15 minutes more--continuing to baste, making sure it's not too hot--and not scorching on the bottom.

Set aside. Reheat slowly to serve or eat cold.

19 - Roasted Cauliflower and/or Broccoli

Because the flavors are so concentrated, roast vegetables always suggest massive effort. In fact, they are incredibly simple to prepare. Cauliflower is particularly spectacular.

Pre-heat the oven to 400 degrees. Use one or two cauliflowers (one is scarcely enough for two or even three people). Get rid of the big center stalk (though I’m sure that would be fine too--so I will say--reserve for another use--though I suspect you--like me--will--unless the economy gets even worse--- most likely put it in the compost, or garbage, or wherever vegetable scraps go in your kitchen these days). Break off the florets--and slice them into relatively thin pieces--perhaps between 1/8 and 1/4 inch thick. Spread the pieces--in a single layer--on a cookie sheet--or jelly roll pan (that's slightly bigger than a cookie sheet with edges--but the point is--you need a big flat surface)--which you've covered with a thin layer of olive oil—if you want sprinkle more olive oil on top—though very little is really needed. Spread it out nicely in a single layer. Place in pre-heated oven--after about ten minutes--stir it around. Cook until most of the pieces have brown and crispy edges. Remove from oven and salt. I originally made this as part of a pasta sauce, started making this to make with pasta--but it almost inevitably gets eaten as soon as it’s removed from the oven. As a bonus, if you make enough to have plenty left over after your picking—you can whip up some pasta. Sauté a few crushed garlic cloves with some pepper flakes, throw in the cauliflower, some capers, parsley, wine or water—and turn it into a pasta sauce. You get the idea.

You can prepare broccoli the same way—even easier to cut—-if not quite as thrilling. We like it very crispy with lemon.

20 - Roasted Peppers

I used to roast peppers over the burner. Now I just put them in the broiler (I don't even add oil), and try to remember to turn them so they just get a thin layer of crisp black burnt skin on the outside--and don't turn into horrible charred lumps. I should say that all these roasted vegetables--at least in this olive oiled oven iteration are relatively recent--since I've been living alone--and I think I started making them because they were so very quick and easy. They’re also a perfect solution for saving any vegetable that might be getting a bit too old in the fridge One of the main woes of many of us who live alone, especially if we once cooked for multitudes, is we really don't know how to shop for one person. Given the enticements of farmers' markets, it is very hard not to overbuy.
So--my solution--ROAST ROAST ROAST. Olive oil and salt. The salt can come later--and then--depending on season and desires you can add lemon juice.
But that is digression—back to the peppers—pop them into a plastic bag to let them steam—so the skin comes off even more easily—you can also hold under running water to peel—sometimes it’s easier, sometimes harder. Cut the peeled peppers into strips, add a few cloves thinly sliced garlic and dress with a bit of white vinegar. Excellent in salads, with cheese, whatever.

21 - Roasted Tomatoes

For years now, I have been regularly roasting little tomatoes.
This year--when I had some big old tasteless winter tomatoes around--I chopped and roasted them--equally delicious.


Small or large they can be prepared as follows:
Coat the bottom of baking pan with olive oil. Add tomatoes.

Toast a tablespoon or so of cumin or coriander seeds or both-- not very long--until you can smell them. Crush seeds with a few cloves of garlic, and perhaps some crushed chili peppers. Many possible variations. Dribble a little olive oil over the whole thing and cook in preheated 350 oven for about two hours, basting with the rapidly accumulating juices on bottom a few times during baking. Small tomatoes should be close to falling apart, larger ones will make a sort of confit. Can be served hot, or room temperature. Also good added to soups, sauces, etc. Excellent item to have in the fridge.

22- Roasted Carrots

For years I’ve been devoted to candied carrots—carrots cooked with butter and brown sugar and perhaps a dash of orange or lemon juice. Lately, I’ve been reducing the amount of butter and sugar. This year, I abandoned all previous procedures and roasted the carrots with great success.
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Peel carrots and cut in whatever shape you favor. I favor an interpretation of an instruction that I learned decades ago in the Tassajara cookbook--called a Chinese rolling cut. This involved cutting chunks about one and a half inch long on the diagonal--rolling the carrot about a quarter turn and cutting again--so each shape is some sort of oval parallelogram--I'd cut thicker pieces in half--uniformity was not my primary consideration.

For two pounds of carrots: Mix about one quarter cup of lime juice with two tablespoons of olive oil, two tablespoons of maple syrup and salt and pepper--and toss the carrots to coat.

Spread the carrots in a single layer on lightly oiled jellyroll pans. Place in pre-heated 400 degree oven and cook for about twenty-five minutes--check after ten minutes--turn carrots over--they should be caramelized around the edges.

I sometimes, due to old habits, can’t resist tossing the well-roasted carrots into a heavy sauce pan where I’ve melted a tablespoon of butter with a bit of brown sugar. Not necessary, but delicious.

Orange juice or lemon juice would be a fine substitute for the limes--and cumin would work well here too.

23 - Eggplant Caponata

I have been making Eggplant Caponata for decades.

I remember being amazed when my mother served this quite exotic dish when I returned home for vacation early in my college career (this would have been 1964 or 1965—years when cooks were becoming more adventurous). It was not something we grew up eating. I must have asked for the recipe, because I now have it, the only recipe I have written in her hand, on lined yellow paper.

It soon became a staple.
It’s hard to mention Eggplant Caponata without thinking of Sam's clarinet recitals. After the 30 or so young clarinetists played their pieces, the young musicians descended on a relatively elaborate set that the parents had set up.

There were always sweets and savories—lots of store-bought cookies, some home-made brownies and sometimes tiny meatballs or chicken wings. Once Cosco arrived--big platters of shrimps and wraps and fruit and vegetable platters appeared as well.

While not the most popular with the young musicians, my mother's Eggplant Caponata was a consistent hit with the parents.

Here it is:

Peel and chop one large eggplant into one-inch pieces, salt and set in a colander for about a half hour.
While the eggplant is sweating, heat two tablespoons of olive oil in pan and sauté two cups chopped onions, and one cup chopped celery. When these are melted (softened) rinse the eggplant, squeezing the pieces in paper towels to remove excess moisture and add it, with several cloves of crushed garlic to the vegetable mixture.

When the eggplant is lightly browned and moving towards tender, add 1 can chopped Italian tomatoes with their juice, a few grindings of black pepper and perhaps some salt (you might want to wait on the salt until the end--as the amount of salt in other ingredients might be enough).

Cook another ten minutes or so--then add 1/4 cup stuffed olives, 1/4 cup capers, 1 Tbsp. wine vinegar, 2 Tbsps. sugar, 1/2 cup lightly toasted pine nuts, and about 1/4 cup chopped parsley. Stir well. Remove from heat.

Serve chilled or at room temperature with crackers or bread.

25 - Caramelized Tofu

Although I knew all the “right” things to do to ensure that vegetarian Sam would get enough protein, it was not easy to influence his food preferences. He avoided most proteins, complimentary or otherwise, and I soon gave up efforts to lure him onto more nutritional paths.

I easily broke through all barriers with caramelized golden tofu.

This is an elaboration of a recipe from Deborah Madison's Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone:

Slice one pound Chinese firm tofu into ¾ inch slices then cut each slice in half. Drain in a colander for about half an hour. Blot dry with paper towels.

Heat about two tablespoons peanut or canola oil in a heavy medium size skillet over fairly high heat. Add the tofu and fry until golden. It should take several minutes per side. You want it slightly crispy--so don’t rush. Let it get a nice crust before turning it over.

While you're ever so patiently waiting for the tofu to brown, mix two tablespoons soy sauce and 3 1/2 tablespoons light brown sugar in a small bowl, and slice one cup of broccoli (I like spears with florets about an inch and a half long-- and one cup of carrots basically the same size as your broccoli pieces. Scoop a spoonful of oil out of the tofu frying pan--and swirl it around in another heavy skillet or a wok. When the oil is hot, add the soy mixture--and then, lowering the heat, add the browned tofu. Mix well and simmer for two minutes. Add 3 tablespoons water and cook until the sauce becomes syrupy and coats the tofu. Turn off the heat and let sit for ten minutes. While the tofu is stewing in its syrup, toss the broccoli and carrots with a few more tablespoons of water into the pan where the tofu was cooking. Cover and cook a few minutes--should be both slightly crisp and tender. (You can of course also use other vegetables)
Combine vegetables with tofu and serve--rice is more traditional--but you can also go the noodle route.

26 - Noodles with Peanut Sauce

I had first listed this as golden tofu with peanut sauce, but realized that the basic recipe we made was just noodles with a Chinese style sauce. Here it is:

Boil water for pasta.  This recipe is probably enough for about one half pound--you'll need more sauce for more pasta.    While it’s cooking combine 3 tablespoons peanut butter, 2 tablespoons rice wine vinegar, 1 tablespoon chopped cilantro, 2 cloves crushed garlic, three teaspoons soy sauce, 1 teaspoon sesame oil and 1 teaspoon brown sugar--with 2-4 tablespoons warm water. Add 1/4 teaspoon salt--taste and adjust accordingly.

Cook pasta. Drain. Mix with sauce, and top with 1/2 chopped scallions and more cilantro

You could also toss in cubes of caramelized tofu.

Mix and match any of the above as you see fit.

27 - Southern Style Greens

I began cooking this as part of a traditional New Year’s good luck meal. Eaten with black-eyed peas and rice--it's meant to ensure ample wealth and prosperity in the coming year. In times of economic distress, they should probably be eaten monthly, if not weekly.

Sauté one or two chopped onions in olive oil (if you choose the meat option- chop a few slices of bacon and cook with the onions--not letting them get crispy). Throw in a couple of smashed garlic cloves (that would be peeled cloves of garlic crushed with the broad side of a knife)--and to provide a bit of vegetable smokiness--a chopped chipotle pepper (good substitute for the bacon).

Cook a couple of minutes--until onions are soft. Add thoroughly washed chopped greens--any mixture you want--collards, kale, mustard, turnips, beet greens. They'll all work--either alone or separately. Cook for about an hour. If your greens are young and tender, it might be much quicker. Add salt and pepper. Serve.

28 - Sweet Tomato Chutney

I triple or quadruple this recipe before packing it into 8-ounce jars, which I give for Christmas presents every year. I have to make a huge amount because everyone exchanges gifts at Katya’s Christmas dinners. These little glowing jars of red chutney are my regular contribution.

Canning is not strictly necessary. If I were just making it for myself I would just stick to the recipe as I write it here, and put the big jar in the refrigerator. I do the canning, in part so people won’t have to think twice about the refrigerator, but I also enjoy the rigmarole of buying jars, boiling them, figuring out the complicated procedure, etc. Again, it feels like a journey to a past that I never knew.

The recipe comes from Madhur Jaffrey’s An Invitation to Indian Cooking. I used it non-stop when we lived in Montreal. The nights were long and dark. Sam was tiny, but quite happy sitting in his little baby seat on the kitchen counter while I prepared massive Indian feasts. This recipe is the only one that has endured over the decades:

Put the cloves from an entire head of garlic, peeled and coarsely chopped into a blender along with a peeled and coarsely chopped piece of fresh ginger, about 2 inches long and 1 inch thick and ½ cup of red wine vinegar. Blend at high speed until smooth.

In a four-quart heavy bottomed pan, put 1 pound 12 ounce can whole tomatoes with juice, 1 cup of wine vinegar, 1 ½ cups of granulated sugar, 1 ½ tsps. salt and a pinch or two of cayenne pepper. Bring to a boil. Once boiling, add the puree from the blender and lower the heat, simmering gently, uncovered, for about two hours (when I make larger batches, it often takes longer—in part, I think, because there is so much liquid in the cans of tomato). In any case, the chutney should begin to thicken and the tomatoes should be fairly well broken up. I always find it hard to decide it’s done—and probably cook it longer than necessary—a film should coat a spoon dipped into it, but I’m never sure about that—in any case—I always cook it long enough. When it’s more or less done add two tablespoons golden raisins and two tablespoons blanched slivered almonds. Simmer, stirring, another five minutes. Turn heat off, cool, and then put in bottles (this amount you will surely devour—so no reason to work at preserving)

29 - Hoppin' John - Black-Eyed Peas and Rice

Another annual tradition. I make this for good luck on New Years Day.

I’d always considered it a Southern tradition—and indeed it is, but last year, Sarah, in the midst of intrepid Internet research found some evidence that it was brought to the Southern United States by Sephardic Jews who arrived in Georgia in the 1730’s. I know you can’t believe everything you find on the Internet, but that tale does have a certain surprising charm.


Here’s the recipe for vegetarian black-eyed peas (for a meat variant—there are always those ham hocks):

Soak two cups of black-eyed peas over night.

Sauté in olive oil 1 cup chopped onions, ½ cup chopped green pepper, ½ cup celery, several cloves of garlic, and one chopped chipotle pepper (this to provide smokiness in vegetarian version) in a heavy bottomed pan. Add the soaked beans, a quart of vegetable stock (or water—not as good, but…will be o.k.), one or two bay leaves, and a bit of thyme. Bring to a boil and continue cooking for about an hour. Serve over rice, with the greens and corn bread and you’ll have a splendid year.

30 - Cheese Enchiladas

Soon after we arrivied in California, our neighbor Anna Lee, who was from Texas, led me on my first foray into Mexican cooking, teaching me to make enchiladas. I thought this recipe was incredibly authentic because although the sauce was red, it didn't contain tomatoes.

Chop two onions into medium dice (maybe that's 1/4 inch squares) Sauté the onion in olive oil--then add chili powder--let's say pasilla chili--dark colored not very hot--since this was for the children--maybe one teaspoon--stir onions with the pepper then add a cup or so of water to make a sauce. Spread some of the sauce in the bottom of a 13”by 9” baking pan.

Prepare 12 tortillas. Sauté each one quickly in hot oil, then dip in sauce. Place tortillas in pan. Put a spoonful of grated cheese (cheddar, jack, whatever) on the tortilla--add a sprinkling of fresh cilantro, and roll into enchilada. When enchiladas are neatly lined up, cover with remainder of sauce--grate some cheese--and bake in oven until cheese is bubbly.

I used this recipe for years, but eventually it was supplanted by one from Diana Kennedy’s The Cuisines of Mexico which came out in a revised paperback edition in 1989. That recipe involved a more elaborate sauce with roasted tomatoes, garlic and peppers, easily added to the chili-onion mixture.

31 - Chile Rellenos

I've always loved chile rellenos. Is it true that combination #7 in almost all Mexican restaurants is one chili relleno and one enchilada? In any case I suspect I have eaten more than my share of numero sietes. I know. I know. The chile rellenos in restaurants--like the Indian food served in cheap places on 6th street in the East Village in the 60's or chop suey served in Chinese restaurants everywhere in the world--are not worthy representatives of their national cuisine. But all these foods are analogous to gateway drugs. They whet our appetites and might lead to all sorts of surprising culinary adventures.

In recent years I have been following a very simple recipe for my own quite authentic rellenos. At some point, I forgot the source and tried to re-capture it. Had I made it up? An internet search led me to the website for the People's Guide to Mexico--and the one recipe there (at least the only one I saw) is in fact for a dish very similar to the recipe I used.

The People's Guide to Mexico was our bible when we traveled to Mexico from Somerville, in the summer of 1974. Published in 1972, it was a guide for people traveling by car or van, camping, doing their own cooking, etc. Although we traveled primarily by bus--the book captured our spirit--and for whatever reasons--we found it indispensable.

Visiting my sister, we used a recipe from Vegetarian Gourmet Cookery by Alan Hooker, though I knew I’d never seen that before. Eventually, after months of thumbing through cookbooks, I discovered the well-stained chile relleno recipe in my copy of Diana Kennedy’s The Cuisines of Mexico—from which I’d originally learned (and then forgotten) how to stuff and batter the chiles. So with a nod and thanks to all of the above---here's the amalgamated recipe:
First--make a tomato sauce:

Sauté in olive oil two finely chopped onions. When they are soft, add finely chopped garlic. After a few more seconds—you don’t want the garlic to brown, add a couple of cups of mashed canned tomatoes (or roasted tomatoes, or cooked fresh tomatoes--whatever you might have). If available I'd also add some cumin, maybe a stick of cinnamon and a few cloves.
While the sauce is cooking, or earlier if you've remembered--put your poblano chiles in the broiler--turning them until the skin is blistery and black. When done--pop them in a plastic bag and let them steam for a while--until the outer burnt skin easily peels off. Remove the seeds--slit the peppers (try not to tear them too much--but the truth is--once you put them in your excellent batter all injuries will be healed--so don't be nervous). Put a piece of cheese, pepper jack, cheddar, whatever. All kinds of meat and vegetable stuffings are possible--but this is a recipe for cheese-stuffed chili rellenos. Once peppers are properly stuffed, roll them in flour.

Separate eggs---one egg for each one or two peppers---depends on how much batter you want. I like lots of fluffy batter, which looks quite gorgeous--so I’d go for more eggs--but you'll figure it out. Beat egg whites until thick--not quite stiff, with a few pinches of salt. Carefully stir in lightly beaten yolks. Gently fold one Tbsp sifted flour per egg into the mixture, keeping eggs as stiff as possible.

Heat canola oil in heavy duty pan. Using a spoon, and perhaps a spatula as well, dip each chile into the batter, and coat it completely. Slip chiles into the hot oil. It should be like a small miracle--the batter completely encasing what might be a straggly chile with cheese trying to escape. When golden brown on one side, turn over. As peppers finish browning carefully put them into the tomato sauce--which is cooking at a very low simmer. When all peppers are in sauce, cook a bit longer; making sure cheese is fully melted. Serve.