Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for March, 2009

There is a specific grief that afflicts your Bad Mama Genny…namely, that which occurs when a foodie learns that he or she may no longer be compatible with a favorite nommable.  When I started to suspect that the lactose molecule (it is a molecule, no?  someone enlighten me) was not as Gen-appropriate as formerly thought, I…well, I went through some shit.

First came denial (“Oh, that no dairy thing is such fluffernutter, see, look, I can eat a whole pint of ice cream and I’m just fi—OH GOD SOMEBODY STAB ME IN THE CHEST RIGHT NOW”).

Then came sadness (“This is the end of my life as a foodie. I’ll never cook again. Why bother going out to eat? Well, there goes my social life. I might as well end it all right now. Anybody have a citrus zester I can fall on?”).

Overreaction was common (“No, The Boy, I do NOT think my Cashew Cheddar ‘Cheeze’ turned out well, I think it sucks, it does not remind me of cheddar, it reminds me of rotten hummus, and I’ll thank YOU to stay out of it! Stop eating that this instant! It’s terrible and I forbid you to like it!”).

Anger was a part of everyday life (“How could cream do this to me? ME?!  Bad Mama Genny loved it, cared for it, played with it all the time, put it in a bonnet and took it for walks around the neighborhood…sure, the other mothers stared, but cream was always the most beautiful baby to me—they didn’t understand our love!”).

But soon (okay, maybe not so soon, but for the sake of flow, let’s say soon), SOON, I reached the magical land of acceptance. Acceptance is not something that comes to those who wait. It is something that comes to those who bitch and moan and then refuse to live a life without spinach artichoke dip.

But allow me to depart for a moment from this me, me, me thing, and mention that I did not bring on this enlightened thinking all on my own. Rice milk, almond milk, nutritional yeast (or “nooch”), and tomes of online recipes were my friends as I slowly started to put my life back together.

Mostly, though, I’m brilliant. And that is how this recipe for Creamy Spinach Artichoke Dip was born.  Out of my brilliance.  You’re welcome.

Lactose-Free Creamy Spinach Artichoke Dip

Go Get:

8 oz. package Non-Dairy Cream Cheese (i.e. Tofutti or Soya-Kaas–I find mine at Trader Joe’s or Whole Foods)

1 11 oz. (approximately) jar marinated artichoke hearts, roughly chopped

10 oz. pkg. frozen spinach, thawed and squeezed as dry as you can get it

1/2 cup mayonnaise (REAL mayonnaise–nothing low-fat, as they’re just so processed and frequently have lactose added for stability)

1/4 cup parmesan or vegan parmesan (most cheeses, especially aged ones, have little to no lactose remaining, but use soy if you’re having fear feelings)

2 large garlic cloves

2 teaspoons dried basil (or 2 Tablespoons chopped fresh basil)

1/2 tsp. salt

approx. 1/4 tsp. ground black pepper

1/4 cup shredded mozzarella OR soy mozzarella

Go Do:

Preheat oven to 375, and lightly oil a baking dish.  Combine all the ingredients except for the mozzarella in the bowl of a food processor, and pulse until combined and creamy.  Spoon it into the prepared baking dish and top it with the shredded “mozzarella.”  Bake it until it’s bubbling and the cheese on top is golden–maybe 20, 25 minutes.  Serve with diced tomatoes and tortilla chips, pita chips, sliced veggies, crackers, or wedges of toasted rustic bread.  (Note—it’s also possible to skip baking this dip and just mix all the ingredients in a crockpot set on high until the dip is hot, and then lowered to the warm/lowest setting.  Voila—now it’s ready to party, just like your BMG!  Invite me, bitches.)

     

Advertisements

Read Full Post »

img_5119

Oh, wow.

The inspiration and recipe structure for this one came from one of my favorite cooking web sites, 101 Cookbooks, on which the author, Heidi, posted a recipe for Roast Banana-Pumpkin Breakfast Bread from the book Southwestern Vegetarian, by Stephan Pyles.  I won’t reprint the recipe here, for copyright reasons, but I will link to the page on Heidi’s site, and tell you what changes I’ve made to it.  On with the friggin’ show!

Have you ever wanted to bottle a smell so you could have it whenever you wanted it?  Actually, I think there’s a creepy movie like that…called “Perfume,” about a French guy who has an unbelievable sense of smell, and he starts murdering women and stuff so he can have their smells as perfume.  So, what I’m trying to say is, that has nothing to do with banana bread, but everything to do with a bread so good you would kill for it.

Still too creepy?

This bread smells like you want it to smell…it smells like the words, “coconut,” “banana,” “rum,” and “bread,” combined.  It made me think about the power of food to recall certain memories and emotions.  Typically, the scent of baking banana bread makes me feel comfortable.  It reminds me of sitting in my mom’s kitchen while she baked from her favorite version of the recipe, from the cookbook Vincent Price wrote with his wife.

No, I am not kidding.  THAT Vincent Price.  To this day when I think of that recipe, I picture the “Thriller” video, and can almost hear Vincent Price saying, “And grizzly ghouls from every tomb/Are closing in to seal your doom/And though you fight to stay alive/Your body starts to shiver/For no mere mortal can resist/The evil of the thriller (maniacal laughter)”–

–immediately followed by a chipper, “Hey, who wants some fresh banana bread?  I baked it myself!”

In any case, baking this loaf of banana bread the other day brought me back to those days in the kitchen, wrinkling my nose in disgust at the black bananas in our fruit bowl, eagerly anticipating their zombie-like rise from the oven, the tomb which would re-animate their dead bodies so that they could WALK AMONG US ONCE AGAIN MWAHAHAHAHHAAAA…eh?  Eh?

Okay, fine, banana bread makes me feel cozy…that sweet and un-creepy enough for you?

But there was another scent, too–that of coconut rum rendering its alcohol in my warm, moist kitchen, and when the two smells mixed, I couldn’t tell whether I wanted to sit in a rocking chair with my Gammy Gam and a stuffed animal or fall off the rocking chair drunk off my arse while Gammy Gam threw a blanket over my miniskirted legs and called for Jesus’ aid.

Don’t even try it, Gammy.  Jesus seen me drunk too many times to bother intercedin’ no mo’.

img_5098img_5097

As for what I’ve done differently–originally, this recipe was a roasted banana bread with pumpkin seeds and golden raisins soaked in dark rum.  My version used several kinds of raisins, coconut rum, flaked coconut, and no pumpkin seeds.  Make the following changes:

Instead of  _____, use _____.

*golden raisins; golden raisins, or a mixture of golden, regular, jumbo, etc…even currants would work here.

*Meyer’s dark rum; Malibu coconut rum (and for Delilah’s sake, do NOT throw out the rum after the raisins have soaked, as the recipe suggests–that is just plain irresponsible alcohol abuse.  Instead, have Delilah take a delightful rum-raisin shot while she bakes.)

*cake flour; all-purpose flour, or cake flour (I used AP with great results)

*white sugar; raw cane/turbinado sugar

*toasted pumpkin seeds; toasted, unsweetened coconut flakes (mmmm…..)

There you have it.  Bread good enough to raise the dead.  Or, you know, just slice up and eat for breakfast.  Either is good.

img_5101

Read Full Post »

%d bloggers like this: