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Vegan Cooking
Bake at Three-Fifty
by Tammie Ortlieb
On top of my hutch in the corner of my dining room sits a pot belly stove, cast iron and very small. Strange get-up, I think, for a cookie jar. Such vessels usually boast flowers, talking farm life, or assorted contemporary motifs. This little stove came to me by way of inheritance. It's not much really and hardly even used any more. My parents picked it up at some discount store for about four bucks. The funky thing was a gift, a Christmas present for my Oldmom, a lady others referred to as Helen.
I learned of this present as a little girl. The jar spilled over on every visit with bits of chocolate and nuts and cinnamon spice. My mother warned me each time of the dangers of snitching even just one bite, threats of bellyaches and spoiled dinners. So I resigned myself to waiting patiently while eyeing those delectable treats. Yet as every little girl who has ever visited Grandma's house knows, in Grandma's house, Grandma rules. Oldmom baked those cookies and she baked them for me. I knew this and so passed my time fidgeting until my mother had left the room. Then there I stood--just me, my Oldmom, and that hoopdy old jar.
Psychobabble abounds on the right way to raise a child. Nurse your baby. Volunteer at school. Read to your child every day. And yet, one simple piece of advice lies too often at the bottom of this white-coated laundry pile--love your child unconditionally.
So there it sat. A bulging pot belly stuffed with mounds of dough, each of which had been baked at three-fifty for eight to ten minutes. Yet the more I peeked my nose over that laminate counter, the more I realized I was privy to something more complex, something unspeakably divine. I was staring square in the eyeballs of pure, unadulterated, unconditional love.
Oldmom baked those cookies because she loved me. Period. She never used them to reward good behavior or a great day at school. She never held me hostage, chained to my chair until I finished all my peas. And she slipped me one no matter if I wore horns or halo for the day. The contents of that jar, I knew, held heaping helpings of a grandmother's love all smeared and splattered with loads of cinnamon sugar.
When I think of comfort foods now, I think of words like console, soothe, and reassure. I think of healing a wound or kissing a hurt. I think of surrounding a loved one in calm and peace and all things warm and cozy. Of wrapping my arms all the way around and never letting go. And I think of doing this just because. Just because nothing. Just because.
I feel better already. Carl Rogers, noted psychologist and staunch proponent of unconditional love, would say that I feel better because we all need to feel loved and accepted just because we exist. Likewise, he maintains, our children need to know this feeling, too. They need to know it not only if they do their chores or if they behave at the store. And they need to know it whether they are nice to the new neighbor or not. They need to feel loved and to feel accepted. Period.
And food can help us give them this feeling.
Whether it be bread or soup, Aunt Jackie's crumb coffee cake or Dad's secret recipe spaghetti sauce, food can curl up around a child and envelope her in a sense of unparalleled warmth and security. Like the favorite old blanky, your three bean chili can be the dish your child turns to when she faces change or stress in her life. Whether she's two or twenty-two, it can be the dish she asks for when she's feeling down or when she just wants that special dinner.
Even as an adult, I look forward to my mom's homemade chicken and dumplings. She has concocted a vegetarian version now so that she can continue to console and to soothe through the culinary senses. The idea is that this is not something I can do for myself. I've tried. I've tried and I've failed many times to recreate this food for the soul. My mother's "chicken" and dumplings, I know now, is a gift. It is a gift, just because.
How to find your signature comfort food:
Recreate a homemade version of a restaurant favorite
Pressure aunts, uncles, and grannies for a secret family recipe
Vegan-ize those u-pick farm recipe cards
Scour non-vegan cookbooks for plant-based soups
Check out children's novels such as Everything On a Waffle by Polly Horvath (each chapter ends with a tasty treat)
Write down that thrown together recipe so you can create it again if it's a winner
Host a lot of potlucks; they are full of interesting dishes
Start a recipe exchange with a group of friends
Spiff up those applesauce muffin and witches' stew recipes that come home from school in the backpacks
Surf websites such as www.vegcooking.com, www.vegweb.com , and www.vegkitchen.com and VegFamily's vast recipes resource.
Check out the list of vegan cookbooks below.
Vegan cookbooks loaded with great comfort food recipes:
Vegan Cupcakes Take Over the World (Isa Chandra Moskowitz & Terry Hope Romero)
Vegan Family Favorites (Erin Pavlina)
How it All Vegan (Tanya Barnard & Sarah Kramer)
The Garden of Vegan (Tanya Barnard & Sarah Kramer)
The Vegan Family Cookbook (Brian P. McCarthy)
Sinfully Vegan (Lois Dieterly)
Vegan Italiano (Donna Klein)
The Voluptuous Vegan (Myra Kornfeld & George Minot)
Vegan Planet (Robin Robertson)
Vegan With a Vengeance (Isa Chandra Moskowitz)
Or try these:
Punkinberry Muffins
- 1 15-ounce can pumpkin
- 1/2 cup maple syrup
- 1/2 cup olive oil
- 2 teaspoons vanilla
- 1/2 cup tofu, mashed with a fork
- 1-1/2 cups unbleached white flour
- 1-1/2 cups whole wheat flour
- 1 tablespoon plus 2 teaspoons baking powder
- 1 teaspoon cinnamon
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 1/2 teaspoon cloves
- 1 cup dried cranberries
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Lightly coat muffin tin with nonstick cooking spray or use paper liners. Mix pumpkin, syrup, oil, vanilla, and tofu in large bowl. Sift dry ingredients, except cranberries, separately. Add to pumpkin mixture. Stir just until moist. Fold in cranberries. Pour into muffin tin. Bake for 20-25 minutes or until knife inserted in center of one muffin comes out dry. Make 12 large muffins.
Tammie Ortlieb is a freelance writer with a Masters Degree in Developmental Psychology. Her work has appeared in VegNews, Veggie Life, Vegetarian Baby and Child Online Magazine, and Mothering.com. She resides in southwest Michigan with her omnivorous husband, three terrific teenagers- two veg, one wannabe-, and a you-tell-em-like-it-is-sister future green revolutionist fabulous fourth grader.
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