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By trade, I’m an omnivore. The only food rule I follow is that I eat everything, because anything can lead to deliciousness. Maybe it’s goat meat on the bone, cooked low and slow and served in a dark pool of its own cooking juices. Maybe it’s a bloomy wheel of cheese made from cashew milk, dense and creamy in the middle. If it’s good, I want it, and then I want seconds.
But when I cook at home, what I want more and more of is vegetables. Right now, this instant, I want long, skinny tongues of charred aubergine dressed in soy sauce and maple syrup, over rice. I want bright tomato pulp puréed with bread and olive oil, right from the lip of the bowl. I want a big pile of lettuce leaves filled with Hetty McKinnon’s sweet and spicy tofu larb.
When the weather cools down? I want a hot pot of winter greens and chewy noodles in miso broth. I want my favorite toor dal with whole boiled peanuts. I want sweet-edged, wrinkly roasted root vegetables over heaps of cheesy polenta, swimming in olive oil.
I don’t know exactly when my appetite became so intensely focused on vegetarian foods in my own kitchen. It happened slowly, then all at once, like a custard thickening on the stovetop. I revised my food shopping, and my home cooking followed, branching out and expanding. I went back to old, favourite cookbooks that included meat and fish only occasionally, or not at all, like River Cafe Cook Book Green, by Rose Gray and Ruth Rogers, and Classic Indian Vegetarian Cookery, by Julie Sahni.
Maybe you’re drawn to vegetarian food for ethical reasons, for health reasons, for ecological reasons, for reasons you can’t quite explain just yet. Maybe you’re trying to get out of a kitchen rut. Maybe, like me, you really love to eat well, and you want to cook with vegetables more.
I still smoke a lamb shoulder in the backyard or roast a salmon now and then, but when I plan a meal, it’s more often around vegetables than meat or fish. I shop once or twice a week, either at the supermarket or the farmers market, and later I study my cupboards and drawers, considering it all strategically – a glut of Persian cucumbers, a bunch of fading dill, some green onion.
I rummage through my ice-crusted freezer drawer, wondering what that unlabelled container is filled with (leftover cannellini beans and greens?) and reach for a half bag of frozen peas. And despite my own inconsistencies when it comes to shopping and planning (and labelling leftovers), vegetables always lead me to something delightful and satisfying.
Frozen peas, brought up in hot, salted water, then roughly puréed with some chilli flakes, lemon juice and zest, are positively springy when spread onto a thick piece of sourdough that’s been crisped under the broiler and rubbed with a clove of garlic. Or, simmered with a little cream, they can dress a big bowl of pasta, with black pepper and grated cheese on top.
Persian cucumbers, roughly peeled, chopped and plopped into a blend of buttermilk and yogurt, quickly form the base of Naz Deravian’s abdoogh khiar, an Iranian chilled soup, crunchy with walnuts, which is quick to make, and life-affirming in this late summer heat.
I’m energised by cooks who coax the best out of vegetables, and not only professionals – restaurant cooks, recipe developers, cookbook authors who’ve been working with vegetarian food for far longer than me – but also friends, family and other home cooks who have patiently walked me through a technique, or documented their work online.
Just when I thought I might be getting a little bit sick of salads, for example, Ali Slagle went and put one on a pizza. And not just any pizza, but a super thin-crust pizza covered entirely with a crisp, lacy layer of parmesan cheese.
Piling salad on a cheesy, thin-crust pizza is the kind of smart, simple technique I know I’ll practice again, not only exactly as written, with baby rocket and white beans on top, but maybe with crunchy lettuce in a tahini dressing, or lots of sautéed summer squash. Or maybe with some cherry tomatoes, roasted until they burst, tossed with olive oil and big pieces of torn basil. It’s official, salad pizza is now a part of my repertoire.
And that’s the thing about a good vegetarian recipe: it leads you to a delicious meal, then makes hundreds more possible.
Tofu larb
Total time: 20 minutes
Makes: 4 servings
Ingredients:
For the tofu:
3 tbsp uncooked glutinous (sticky) or jasmine rice
2 (400g) packs extra-firm tofu, drained and patted dry
1 tbsp neutral oil, such as grapeseed or vegetable
1 lemongrass stem, outer layer removed, tender stem finely chopped
1 shallot, halved and thinly sliced
4 makrut lime leaves (optional), thinly sliced
1 cup mixed soft herbs, such as mint, Thai basil, basil, cilantro and chopped spring onions
1 tsp salt, plus more as needed
1 head butter lettuce, leaves separated
50g shop-bought crispy fried shallots or onions
For the dressing:
4 tbsp fresh lime juice (from about 2 limes)
3 tbsp dark or light brown sugar
2 tbsp soy sauce
½ tsp red-pepper flakes or ½ to 1 red chilli, such as bird’s eye, finely chopped
Method:
1. Make the toasted rice powder: heat a medium (25cm) frying pan over medium-high. Add the rice and stir constantly for 4 to 6 minutes until golden, with a nutty aroma. Transfer rice to a mortar and pestle or spice grinder and grind until it is a coarse powder (you don’t want it too fine; some texture is nice). You should have about 3½ tablespoons. Set rice powder aside.
2. Make the dressing: in a small bowl, combine the lime juice, brown sugar, soy sauce and red-pepper flakes; whisk until the sugar is dissolved.
3. Crumble the tofu into small chunks and place in a large bowl.
4. Heat the medium frying pan over medium-high and add 1 tablespoon oil. Add the lemongrass and shallot and cook, stirring constantly, until softened and aromatic, about 2 minutes. Remove from heat and add to the tofu, along with the lime dressing, rice powder, makrut lime leaves, herbs and salt. Taste and add more salt if needed.
5. To serve, spoon the tofu larb into the lettuce leaves and garnish with crispy fried shallots.
Salad pizza with white beans and parmesan
Total time: 45 minutes
Makes: 4 servings
Ingredients:
1 (425g) can white beans, such as cannellini or Great Northern, rinsed
30g sliced pickled pepperoncini (about 6 to 8 peppers), plus 2 tablespoons brine
2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil, plus more for greasing
Salt and black pepper
450g shop-bought or homemade pizza dough, at room temperature, divided into two 225g portions
90g freshly grated parmesan, plus more for serving
85-140g ounces baby rocket
Method:
1. Heat the oven to 260C. Place a baking tray in the oven to heat.
2. In a large bowl, stir together the white beans, pepperoncini, pickle brine and 2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil. Season with salt and pepper; set aside.
3. Place a kitchen towel on a work surface, then place an upside-down baking tray or cutting board on the towtl (This will serve as your pizza peel; the towel stabilises the setup as you roll the dough). Lightly grease a piece of parchment with olive oil and place on top of the upside-down baking tray. With a lightly greased rolling pin, roll one half of the dough on the parchment as thin as you can, about 0.3-0.6cm thick (if the dough retracts, let it rest a few minutes before continuing).
4. Sprinkle ½ the parmesan over the dough. Remove the preheated tray from the oven, and carefully slide the parchment with the dough onto the hot baking tray. Cook until golden brown on the top and bottom, 10 to 12 minutes. Meanwhile, roll out the remaining dough on a second piece of greased parchment and cover with the remaining parmesan. Transfer the first pizza to a cooling rack to crisp, then repeat with the second piece of dough.
5. Add the rocket to the bean mixture, season with salt and pepper, and stir gently to combine. Top each pizza with the salad, plus more grated or shaved parmesan.
Abdoogh khiar (chilled buttermilk cucumber soup)
Total time: 15 minutes, plus chilling
Makes: 2 to 4 servings
Ingredients:
1 tsp dried edible Damask rose petals (optional, see tip)
475ml buttermilk, plus more if desired
123g cup plain yogurt
Salt
3 Persian cucumbers (200g), cut into 0.5cm pieces, plus more for garnish
50g golden or black raisins, plus more for garnish
40g walnut halves, coarsely chopped, plus more for garnish
1 tsp finely chopped fresh dill, plus sprigs for garnish
1 tsp finely chopped chives or green onion
1 tsp dried mint, plus more for garnish
½ lavash rectangle or 1 large slice bread of choice (such as sourdough)
4 ice cubes
Fresh mint leaves, for garnish
Method:
1. If using dried rose, crumble a few petals coarsely for garnish and set aside. Place the rest on a cutting board and chop as finely as possible.
2. Place the buttermilk, yogurt and 1 teaspoon salt in a blender and blend until frothy, about 30 seconds, or whisk together in a large bowl until smooth and frothy. If you used a blender, pour the mixture into a large bowl. Add the cucumbers, raisins, walnuts, dill, chives, dried mint and ¼ teaspoon of the finely chopped rose petals. Stir well to combine and season to taste with more salt. Cover and refrigerate to chill and allow the flavours to come to life, at least 1 hour and up to overnight.
3. Just before serving, toast the lavash or bread until crisp but not burned, and break into pieces. Stir the soup to mix. It should be the consistency of a thin, runny soup. If it’s too thick, thin it out with water or more buttermilk, 1 tablespoon at a time. Keep in mind that you will be adding ice cubes, which will also thin out the soup as they melt. Divide the soup among serving bowls and add the ice cubes. Garnish the top as creatively as you like with crumbled dried rose petals, cucumber, dried mint, dill sprigs, raisins, walnuts and fresh mint leaves. Add the bread pieces right before serving or serve on the side.
Tips: Dried edible Damask rose petals, available in Middle Eastern markets and online, are used in various Iranian dishes as a fragrant and savoury spice. They’re worth seeking out, grinding to a powder (whole petals are pretty as a garnish but tough to chew) and adding to your spice cabinet. Feel free to swap out for more of the fresh herbs, as you like.
© The New York Times
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