resistance is fertile

living underground in the real world

the soyfood with culture May 30, 2008

Filed under: cooking is vegan (of course),culture and its discontents,fermentation fervor forever!,recipe! — lagusta @ 12:48 am

My, what a tight mycelium you have!

You know how tempeh kind of sucks?

Admit it, it kind of does. I didn’t eat tempeh for about 10 years after I became a vegetarian, because it sort of tastes like ass.

These days I’m a tempeh fiend, however, because I make my own tempeh. Homemade tempeh is nothing like store bought, which has usually been frozen and defrosted and is super old. It’s an industrial product. Homemade tempeh, on the other hand, is full of umami and light mushroomy depth. Fried up homemade tempeh with sea salt is a delight, worthy of getting seriously excited about.

So: today is the day you learn how to make your own tempeh. Not your own tempeh reuben, not your own tempeh with mushroom scaloppine, your own tempeh. From beans and spore. From soy and culture. One legume plus a kickstarter starter plus time equals alchemy.

Homemade tempeh is at once harder and easier than you think. It’s hard because we’ve been inculcated (inoculated, even) to believe that tempeh is inherently weird, that fermentation is a dirty word, and that any recipe longer than 10 minutes is a waste of time.

This is a three day recipe for rotting soybeans. This might make things hard for some of you. For those of us free of those prejudices, tempeh is easy.

Once you know a few general principles and have figured out your incubator situation you can get a batch going in literally minutes. I make five or so pounds a week in less than half an hour for less than two dollars.

The first step to making great tempeh is buying the book Wild Fermentation by Sandor Katz. I know I’ve mentioned Sandor a bunch on this blog, but it never hurts to plug awesome people one more time. (In fact I just got an email from him the other day plugging a live fermentation intensive “webinar” he’ll be hosting soon – check it out, yo). Sandor is one of those people you’re just plain glad exist.

Wild Fermentation opened up a whole new world to me, and my tempeh recipe is taken directly from his, so first buy his book for more in-depth info on making tempeh. (Another great, though slightly more bizarre, resource is The Book of Tempeh.) If you want some hilarious fun, read the 1-star and 2-star negative Amazon reviews of Wild Fermentation – of course, the reasons these nuts disliked WF are the reasons I loved it. My favorite is the one that calls him an “Amish homosexual hippie.” YES!!

The second step is making an incubator. Sandor put up all the info on how my pal Aaron and I (OK, mostly Aaron) built my incubator on his website, so you might want to check that out (click on “tempeh incubator” on the little drop-down menu on the right, scroll over the picture to read the text so you understand what you’re looking at). All the info is repasted below as well.

Let’s say for now that you have your incubator. Now you need to order some tempeh spore (also called tempeh starter). I get mine from GEM cultures, so does everyone else I’ve ever heard of who makes tempeh. Let’s hope the good GEM cultures people never get tired of providing us with high-quality starters!

Now you’re ready to go.

Here is my recipe for tempeh – it makes a lot, five or so pounds. Roughly one-third of this recipe will make a nice-sized amount to start.

I usually start soaking the beans Friday night, cook them Saturday in the early afternoon, let them sit for a few hours to dry, then start fermentation on Saturday PM. I have great tempeh by late night on Sunday, or I turn the temperature down to about 85 degrees so it will be ready by Monday AM, depending on my schedule.

(more…)

 

on hope and the lack thereof May 29, 2008

Filed under: politics — lagusta @ 9:29 am

Last week I threw a party and while refilling wine glasses (well, Mason jars, as the party was so giant that I ran out of glasses) I overheard my dear friend Randy (above, running in the desert) telling someone that he was “an Obama man.” Being the needling third party noodnik that I am, I couldn’t resist emailing him some random smack I came across about Obama. (Why do my friends stay friends with me? I’m always doing rude things like this). He responded with the absolute perfect justification for Obama. It so captured the vague excitement that even old Naderities like me have for the dude that I had to reprint it here:

“As much as I am a man, I am for Obama. I am only barely a man. [Sorry Randy, when I asked for permission to put this online you probably didn't think I would put that part in, but it's cute].

I want an actor to place in front of the world and start to repair the image of this country. I think he will be the best actor in that role. Nothing more.

I have no faith in our system. I don’t expect I ever will. If I did, I’d be right there with you, voting for a third party. I am more likely to leave the country than grow so much as an ounce of hope that the system will be repaired or that our government will try hard to help everyone.

Sad, but true.”

Indeed.

I’ll keep trucking along for Cynthia McKinney, but oh, you realists. Sometimes I envy you for telling it like it is without guilt.

 

New Paltz Dining Guide Redux – Itadakimasu! May 27, 2008

Filed under: cooking is vegan (of course),new paltz,Restaurant rants and raves,Upstate NY — lagusta @ 9:22 pm


Because I have been setting up my new commercial kitchen and didn’t turn on the walk-in fridge until three days ago, I have been eating out. As you might recall, I adore my little upstate town but it’s not an eating mecca for vegans who love to eat outside the college-town veggie trifecta of (perfectly decent) falafel wraps, burritos and bar food.

I have to eat a little crow though, because the so horribly menu-ed quasi-anonymous restaurant I spoke of at the beginning of the Dining Guide has – gasp, sigh – perfectly decent food. In fact, there is a mushroom appetizer (it’s called Magic Mushrooms, but sane people call it “the mushroom appetizer”) with shiitake mushrooms in a red wine and balsamic reduction with garlic bread that you can request to be made with olive oil that is damn, damn good. And many of the pastas can be made vegan, and make a reasonably lovely lunch.

OK, crow eating over.

In other New Paltz restaurant news, I am proud to plug my friend Youko’s new and hotly anticipated restaurant, Gomen Kudasai.

Youko made these cards for me to take on a trip to Japan. “Watashi wa bejitelian desu” (I am a vegetarian) helped me out of many a jam, as did many repetitions of “sumimasen” (excuse me/I’m sorry/thank you – the Japanese holy trinity)

Gomen Kudasai is a traditional Japanese noodle shop serving real Japanese home cooking. Finally – a Japanese restaurant with no sushi! Much as I love sushi, New Paltzians need to learn that there is more to Japanese food than fake wasabi. I’ve eaten at Gomen Kudasai twice this week and loved the thick udon noodles, fresh tofu appetizers, and wagashi (traditional Japanese sweets – think green tea, black sesame seeds, and red bean kuzu mangu [sweet dumplings with an exterior made of kuzu - a white powder thickener used like cornstarch that is made from kudzu - and a sweet bean paste interior]. There is a great fresh kimchi made with yuzu juice – yuzu is an aromatic Japanese citrus fruit that is barely available in the US, and tasting Youko’s yuzu-scented kimchi was transcendent. There are traditional Japanese teas, seasonal veggies and local produce.

Congratulations to Youko and hooray for the improved New Paltz food scene!

 

vegan sugared flowers May 24, 2008

Filed under: cooking is vegan (of course),recipe! — lagusta @ 3:58 am
Tags: , ,

There doesn’t seem to be a good page out there on the vast internet universe on how to make vegan sugared flowers, so maybe right now at 3 AM when I’m slightly exhausted but drank half a soy chai 10 hours ago that is still coursing through my body (caffeine and I don’t play well together – my natural excess energy comes from sheer outraged revolutionary zeal, anything additional is too too much) is the time to remedy this.

One night I messed around with a bunch of nasturtiums and pansies from a friend’s farm and got down to the business of what sugared flowers are all about.

Pretty much every recipe for sugared flowers (those that use real flowers, not gum paste) calls for flowers, sugar, and egg whites.

I’m so over egg whites. Everything that most people make with egg whites can be made with either really good vigorous sourdough starter (if the whites are being used to bind, as in batters), cornstarch (as in tempura), or with flax seed egg whites (as in candied flowers and sugared nuts and oatmeal cookies). (If you’re replacing a whole egg, you need to add a little fat to replace the yolk.)

OK, you can’t make meringue or angel food cake or divinity or souffles. But who wants those weirdly textured foods anyway?

What you can make is sugared flowers (also known as crystallized flowers and candied flowers, Googlers!) – don’t let anyone tell you you can’t. In fact it’s easier and safer (look ma, no salmonella!) to make them vegan than not. Here’s a secret – except for societal conditioning which makes everything seem so hard and weird, cooking vegan is much easier than using bizarre things like quasi-abortions.*

There are lots of recipes for flax seed egg whites out there. Google them. Some call for grinding the flax seeds in a spice grinder and mixing them with hot water. Some call for boiling the flax seeds with water. All of them except my nutty friend Selma’s involve straining the resulting liquid. For some reason possibly having to do with being 73 years old, Selma no longer strains them. She’s just fine with crunchy flax seeds in whatever she’s making and more power to her. I use whole seeds and strain mine. Proportions really don’t matter. Boil some flax seeds (say 2 Tbs) in some water (say 3/4 cup). Strain it. It probably won’t strain all that easily if you have a really fine strainer. You could add some hot water and whisk like hell until it’s a little less thick. You could have also started with more water. It really doesn’t matter. It will work.

Then get your organic, local edible flowers. Leafing around, I noticed that most recipes called for brushing the flowers with egg whites with a dainty little brand new paintbrush then dipping them in superfine sugar. In the end, brushing them with flax seed eggs and dipping them in superfine sugar worked best, as I figured it would. But I also tried out every other method I saw for making sugared flowers, because I just roll like that.

As you might guess, dipping the flowers in powdered sugar gave you a powdery, coked-up sugared flower:

I’d like to meet the person who thought that tossing delicate flowers into molten hot sugar was going to produce beautifully sugared flowers, but I had fun trying it. If I had worked on it a bit more, I think I could have made cool bizarre little candies with flower petals trapped inside. The more brightly-colored petals also colored the caramel in neat ways. Oh, and I added some rosewater to the caramel. Predictably, its delicate flavor totally dissipated in the inferno that is clear caramel.

Dipping the flowers into f.s.e. then into regular sugar produced a clumpy sugared flower:

But homemade superfine sugar (just whiz sugar in the food processor – hold a dish towel over the hole in the top or else you will inhale a giant sugar cloud when peeking in) worked just fine.

After my experiments, I found this this utterly brilliant dude who typed everything up so smartly – follow his method but use the flax seed eggs. Not only does he have the genius idea to color the sugar you use (and he uses my same supafine sugar trick!) but he candies individual lilac blossoms, three of which fit on a fingernail. Dude is intense, man.

The next week, my candied flowers (the decent ones, anyway) topped homemade petits fours quite prettily – but that’s another story, one called The Day I Spent Eight Hours Making My First Ever Petits Fours** And Eating Nothing But Cake Scraps.

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*I know – calling eggs quasi-abortions is so not nice and not p.c. But one day I got to thinking about what exactly eggs are and I can’t stop thinking of them that way. I know that’s not quite right, but still.

**All 200 of them – nothing gets your energy pumping like making a notoriously delicate French classic dessert for the first time and knowing 20 people are expecting vegan perfection out of it! When I was doing my menu planning I wrote YOU CAN DO IT! In big letters on my schedule for the week, and indeed I did. For eight hours.

 

no white boys (but everything smells like wild onions) May 24, 2008

Filed under: cooking is vegan (of course),fermentation fervor forever!,New Yorker whiteboy watch,recipe! — lagusta @ 1:56 am

It’s official: I am five weeks behind on my New Yorkers. If you’re waiting with anticipation for the New Yorker stats, kindly wait a little while longer. The kitchen is so lovely though!

Also, ramp season is over and asparagus, radish, and greens season is in full swing in my part of the world.

Did you make ramp pickles? Rick made some that sound divine. Lacking much time but with a whole lot of miscellaneous weeds/herbs*/greens** from the garden/yard and the 9 or so lbs of ramps I couldn’t resist buying even though I took the week off from cooking***, I made a quick-and-dirty ramp kimchi.

From left: comfrey leaves, not-great wild chives, sorrel, and garlic leaves

I have no compunction about calling my pickle kimchi even though it contains no ginger or hot chilies, because the world of kimchi is giant and varied (fish head kimchi, anyone?), and to me anything hugely stinky of scallions and garlic is kimchi.

Technically kimchi is made by immersing cabbage in brine overnight then draining it. The overnight soak is meant to break down cell walls and kick start the fermentation, but because ramps are so leafy and more watery and easily fermented than cabbage, I made the kimchi like sauerkraut, just chopping the ramps coarsely, washing them (always wash greens after chopping them, you know that trick, right?), and tossing them with sea salt, weighting and covering them, and done. The next day I pushed down on the weight to make sure the brine had risen above the greens, and that’s it. There it sits. I’m too lazy to take a picture, but it looks like a lot of greens with a weight (a mortar and pestle) on top in a big crock.

Did you know you can pickle ANYTHING (except ripe tomatoes) like sauerkraut? Sandor Katz told me that, and he was right.

Nine pounds of fermenting ramps greets everyone at the door with a wall of practically visible, eye-watering wild leek smell waves, but it will go into the fridge in a few days and I will get the last laugh when I am mixing delicious wild-crafted ramp-and-foraged-greens kimchi with rice all year long for the best five-minute dinner in the world.

These are 2005′s ramps (and lilacs) – this year’s were much skinnier, with almost no bulb. I think that might be because my forager (a sweet high school kid - no, this is his first year in college! My, how they grow up! – whose mom taught him to forage and who now makes a nice business of it for one month every year) forages in three or more secret ramp fields in the Catskills – maybe these came from a field of thick-bulbed ramps that he has been letting rest for the past few years? Maybe these were from much later in the season? The mysteries of ramps are many.

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*Including garlic leaves – did you know that if you stick a clove of garlic in the ground and forget about it, for many years to come you will get edible garlic leaves every spring? I just learned this two years ago, and it still blows me away.

**I also tossed in a lot of sorrel, which grows so well in my garden and I never do anything with it except force guests to eat a leaf because I like watching their faces. Poor poor sour sour sour sorrel.

***For some reason I feel compelled to link to my professional site every time I mention cooking or work in any form, I bet it’s annoying for the three of you who regularly read the old blog…

 

barely there May 19, 2008

Filed under: i heart feminists,self-titled — lagusta @ 12:59 am

Let’s just say I have a friend. Maybe she is even related to me.

Let’s say she lived under the thumb of a truly bad man for 25 or so years. She emerged about eleven years ago and has slowly been undoing the psychic damage the marriage did to her. The main lingering effect of the cruelty and fear is that she is sometimes too nervous to actually exist—no small damage, that. Think about it.

My friend who is maybe related to me, maybe not, wants to always do good. Partially this is because her heart is pure white and filled with a true lefty desire to always choose the path of lesser violence and damage to the world. Unfortunately, partially it is because living with a man who would scream at you and worse for no reason at all brands you for life with a desperate, wild-eyed desire to always make everyone happy so as to subject yourself and (much more importantly) your children to the least amount of psychic and physical pain as possible.

Thus. When this person comes to visit me, the desire to be helpful—to make life’s load easier on everyone around her, to do whatever needs to be done to keep a peace that hasn’t been disturbed for eleven years but still seems tenuous in her heart of hearts—can get rather extreme.

Today when I was carrying many heavy things out to the car she was checking her e-mail on my computer. Here’s how the conversation went.

My friend: “Do you need to check your email?”

Me: “Nope. Later on I need to do a little Green Party paperwork, but no rush. I’ll probably be fiddling around in the basement for a while.”

“Can I help? How can I help? I don’t have to check my email right now.”

“Don’t worry about it, take your time—it’s a one person job, it’s a tight space down there.”

One minute later, I come up from the basement to bring something to the car, breathing a little heavy. I can feel the heaviness in the air and her unconscious thought pattern: “She’s working hard.” For 25 years, her husband’s hard work, rare though it was, always meant some sort of horrible blow-up activated by a childish hatred of hard work. She kicks into crisis avoidance-mode.

“Do you need to use the computer?”

“Nope, not at all.”

“That looks heavy, can I help?”

“I’ve got it.”

“It looks heavy. Don’t hurt your back.

Eek! Oh my gosh, my work email has 150 messages from the past 2 days. [Hastily:] Don’t worry though, I can look at them when I get home. I can help you out now.”

“It’s really OK, take your time and go through your email—otherwise you know they will build up and make you crazy.”

“You don’t need the computer?”

“Nope, I’m going to be in the basement.”

Two minutes later, on another trip to the car:

“I’m almost done with the computer.”

“I’m not going to use it anyway, there is no rush.”

“Can I help you carry something?”

And on it went.

If I could take her hand and talk plainly, here is what I would say:

You have the right to exist. You can take up space. When we are sitting on the couch, you can put your legs up and take up 1.5 cushions without constantly asking if I need more space. It’s OK. When you have 150 emails you desperately need to go through, you are allowed to go through them.

When you visit me, you’re on vacation, and people on vacation are supposed to be relaxed and self-indulgent. Every indulgence in your life—makeup and midnight snacks, catnaps on the couch and reading too many novels—is never reveled in, but always furtively meted out as if you’re waiting to be mocked or screamed at because of indulging in the comforts that make life bearable.

I live for the day when you are selfish and self-assured, when you radiate the happiness that comes from living without having to answer to anyone or be terrified of anyone’s irrational wrath. I am holding my breath for a time when you take unabashed pleasure in the things that make only you happy. I want you to luxuriate.

Toward that end, here is all I can offer you: this sad collection of pixels I’m sending into the universe especially for you. This is your hall pass, this is your signed permission slip, your ticket to the EZ Pass lane—you’re allowed. You’re entitled to exist, and to do all the things that people in the world do— spooning up ice cream in the kitchen in the middle of the night, relaxing after a hard day, not sacrificing your own precious free time to help others who take advantage of your malleability.

Stretch your legs, unfold your wings, and feel your freedom. It’s your life now.
You’ve helped others enough. Your time has come.

 

my oppression is more oppressy than yours May 15, 2008

Filed under: cooking is vegan (of course),culture and its discontents,politics — lagusta @ 10:51 pm

As I’ve been painting and hauling and packing and cleaning, I’ve been thinking about this post and this follow-up from Vegans of Color. Johanna and Nadia pick apart the bizarre phenomenon of vegans who make veganism their cross to bear and prioritize it to the detriment of everything else – including an analysis of other forms of oppression and how systems of oppression reinforce each other.

Please allow me to ramble on about this and tangentially related topics for a while.

Maybe it’s because I’ve been vegan for fifteen years or maybe I’m just old and grumpy, but vegans who talk about veganism all the time annoy the shit out of me. Yes, you’re vegan. Yes, it’s hard to travel around America and find good food. Yes, I believe you about that one time there was shrimp in your dumplings at the Chinese place. The horror. How did you survive. Moving along. Taurine and vegan cat food, I know.

Make no mistake – for about the first 3-5 years I was vegan I was guilty of being the annoying vegan who wouldn’t shut up about veganism. I was going through some letters I sent when I was in high school (what kind of a dork makes copies of all her letters on the copy machine at her mom’s office? This kind of dork.), and I literally signed my letters “for the animals, Lagusta.”

Sometimes I shortened it to “FTA.”

Without a doubt, I was the vegan that gave nonvegans the idea that vegans are completely bonkers.

And I’m sure I indulged in a lot of whining about how being vegan was incredibly difficult and I was such a martyr for the cause and all that. (For the record, things were whole shitload more difficult fifteen years ago in the crapass American southwest hellscape – the nearest health food store was an hour away, the supermarket had no tofu, I mail ordered egg replacer powder. Every single vegan in my city met once a month in a fake-meat Chinese place – oh how I loved you once, Supreme Master Ching Hai Vegetarian Restaurant -where we huddled together and told our war stories.)

But we all have to grow up (and in my defense I was fifteen at the time).

Veganism is not hard anymore – if it ever was (part of my difficulties were that no one in my house ever cooked a meal. Ever.). I don’t want to sound high and mighty, but in these days of cyclones and earthquakes and ethanol-induced food scarcity, I am deeply thankful to be able to be vegan.

Being able to be vegan – being able to choose what food we eat – is a choice that only those in affluent countries can make. Because the idea of eating an egg makes me feel woozy, I feel so thankful to make enough money that I can buy my own food, and don’t have to live off scraps and government subsidies, as so many people do. In my book, anyone living within 100 miles of NYC and it’s 100+ vegan restaurants has no right to ever complain about veganism. Even super poor vegans can go to Dojo.

I’m not sure that the “vegan movement” really is one – there are so many different factions – PETA vegans vs. sane vegans, for example. Or those that call Earth Balance EB and those whose lips automatically curl when in its presence. Junk food vegans vs CSA-supporting vegans. Used-leather-shoes-from-Goodwill vs. Natalie- Portman’s-line-of-vegan-shoes vegans. Carol Adams vegans vs. Suicide Girls vegans.

I don’t really mind this – in order for veganism to become a mainstream-accepted choice, all different kinds of vegans need to represent. But because the “movement” lacks a cohesive vision aside from what we do not eat (and maybe that is enough in common?) it’s hard to stop rogue elements from realizing they are acting like assholes. The vegan police really don’t cover assholeness, just things like trace amounts of honey.

But I know exactly the kind of dudes (almost always dudes, almost always dudes) that Johanna and Nadia are talking about – the ones who are secretly so incredibly happy to be oppressed in some way that they act like the typical dudes that they are underneath the veganism – boring mainstream non-feminist dude dudes.

My answer to people who say idiotic things like “why be vegan when so many people are suffering?” is that it’s perfectly possible to work for human rights while simultaneously not eating a hamburger. The great thing about veganism is that we can do everything all at once – and actually, we can use our understanding of how oppression of animals works to help us dismantle our white privilege. We can become better feminists through an analysis of how animals we eat are sexualized in the same way all “others” in our culture are. Everything works together, in good and bad ways.

I refuse to pick and prioritize oppressions – and I refuse to believe that an “oppression” you chose is actually oppression. Vegans are lucky and vegans are awesome. No need to play the victim – we’re the winners.

 

What Michael Pollan Hasn’t told you about food May 15, 2008

Filed under: cooking is vegan (of course),politics — lagusta @ 10:38 pm

Wow. This is the best Alternet article I’ve read in a long while. Truly fascinating, and a great critique of the American Slow Food Movement as well. Check it out!

 

sea change May 11, 2008

Filed under: cooking is vegan (of course),politics,small (business) is all,stop consuming so fucking much,truffles — lagusta @ 12:59 pm

Hello blogosphere! My blogginess might be a little slow for the next few weeks because I’m taking a tiny internet vacation in order to power through some big changes in lusciousland. I’m moving my business into a gorgeous new commercial kitchen and am spending all my time painting, packing, cleaning, organizing, finding artisan sign-makers, researching and buying an induction stove, being tired yet unable to sleep because of a head full of ideas and plans, and yes, buying some shit from China, despite my best efforts to avoid doing so. But I will soon show you pictures of all the loveliness – be very excited.

People are used to commercial kitchens being ugly and industrial, but I’m trying hard to make mine personal and special. It still won’t be technically open to the public (though I’m thinking of hanging a sign out when I have truffles for sale so people can pop in and buy a few), which somehow makes it even more fun to organize – it’s my own little private world, decorated and organized according to my own standards. It feels simultaneously very grown-up and very childish, do you know what I mean? I like that combination.

In truth, I’m very much liking being a business owner lately. I used to be a little ashamed of it – it didn’t feel enough like activism, it felt too much like making money. But many a good activist has been brought down by a crippling lack of funds and too much time spent making too little money at stultifying jobs, and these days I’m proud to be paying off my school debt and mortgage (actually, mortgages – the land will be ours this week!) while being able to afford dinner out now and then (not that there is anywhere to go) and knowing that my money is made in line with my values.

When I run my business right I have time for activism and quiet days, and when I run it badly – when I take on more than I can handle and can’t take deep breaths because there is so much to do that I am scared of the day ahead – I have extra money. Either way, it’s my life and my business, and that always feels good. Even when I do things I know I shouldn’t – like not take on a client just because I don’t like his voice on the phone, or because HuffPo Fundrace tells me someone donated to Republicans. I always get a terrible thrill when I do things like this. Isn’t my ability to indulge my bad qualities through my business what makes having a small business great? Even when I’m on the receiving end of business owners’ quirky bad qualities (I bought a dress from a small fashion designer months ago and she still hasn’t sent it, despite saying she would send it out that week – grrrr), I still love small businesses. I’ve talked about it many times before, but I truly believe that small businesses are one of the only hopes for America. Stay small, stay local, stay viable. As a certain someone would say: we can do it!

(If you’re looking for a blog to catch up on while I’m not posting very often, might I suggest Vegans of Color, a lovely newish blog with a wonderfully inclusive and thought-provoking slant on the veganopolis? Also, what great design taste they have!)

 

the last trip May 4, 2008

Filed under: culture and its discontents — lagusta @ 4:15 pm

Albert Hofmann, the inventor of LSD, died this week at the age of 102. I recently watched an amazing documentary about him and the early days of LSD which, well, kind of blew my mind. Check it out – Hofmann’s Potion.

 

 
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