fall break

Holy crap, where have I been the past two weeks? Like, hellloooooo........is there anybody out there still listening? Have I completely lost my audience by now?

Hello?
(thump thump thump.......a static-y clicking sound over and over)
Hello.........is this thing on?

Oh, right, it's about me not the audience, yes that was it. This is a blog not a job, really here to be a collection of thoughts and ideas that need form, direction maybe, at the very least a place to reside. Being that the space is public, you dear reader get to look at what spills out of the head, however occasional it might be. So, where was I?

The end of september was a whirlwind of activity and food preservation, but it did have a few highlights. During one of our wrangler/monkey "date nights" we dropped by the opening party for our friend's new restaurant and got a chance to see a master dessertress in action. The food was delicious, the staff very accommodating and polite, the ambience most tasteful and soothing. But the dessert.......oh, my! Try, like, the cumin pot de creme for starters. Being a party though, we ate gobs of hot fried pastries (not on the menu yet) made outta something called shoe paste, while sitting at a bar or sorts and admiring the green shoed boss run the sweets department. It was witnessing a craft being performed in a niche of heaven. Fried puffs tossed with hot cardamon or rose or fennel or cacao nib, some sugar of course, then maybe some mesquite flour. You name the spice combo it was sublime. We sat around and ate till stuffed. I thought about how I just wanted to sit there all night and do nothing but eat donuts at the bar. I thought of the talking heads: Everybody's trying, to get to the bar. The name of the bar, the bar is called Heaven.

Choux paste, fancy food and delicious drinks aside, the monkey will probably always think of it as the place where she scored a lot of donuts and some tasty ice cream while sitting at a bar with her daddy. I just love building memories.

Speaking of childhood memories.......this was so frickin' satisfying it was nearly criminal. I had some mortadella in the fridge from the BFM and a craving for a sandwich. It brought me back with how rare a treat it was like when as a child, only this was from such a fine source. Nonetheless it reminded me of thirty something years ago. What I needed was some homemeade ketchup and hot mustard to round out the satisfying taste of what I now think of as my modern version of a bologna sandwich. Come to think of it, if the free mortadella had been stolen and not gifted it would definitley be criminal, but sorry to report, it was just nearly so.

The next day, I was out tending to the wild cherry tomatoes that are still going strong (okay, lurking about like some produce criminal) when I noticed that one of the teeny-tiny itty-bitty melons in the front yard was getting soft. I looked both ways down the sidewalk and picked it from the dry looking vine, giving it a whiff and nearly falling over. It smelled fantastic! Could it be true? A decent cantaloupe here in coldville? I brought it inside and hacked it in two. Low and behold it looked good too, even if it was only half size. It wasn't the sweetest thing ever, but damn it smelled good!

........and speaking of sweet! For the first weekend of October, we were stationed in picturesque Calistoga with our family for the wedding of H's brother. The last of the bunch (of 7, so I do mean bunch) just had to out do everyone else's wedding. Needless to say the ceremony was a grand and formal event with hundreds in attendance held in a medieval Tuscan castle, which fortunately was only a five minute ride from our cottage by the river in downtown. The kids held on till after 10 pm, which was quite remarkable. We knew it was time to go when we handed the elder monkey an extravagant looking chocolate dessert that was only met with a looking-through-us blank stare with glazed over eyes. "Sweetie, do you want some dessert?" No. (?!) Oh my, we better leave......

For those who know me in person, yes, in that photo at the castle I am missing some hair. A bit over 10 inches to be exact. I was feeling in of need a trim for the wedding and I figured it was about time for my second donation of hair to a good cause. If you know of anyone with a long rope dangling from their skull or some extra long braids that could lose some major length then send them over to the Locks of Love site. Or if you know someone who has really really long hair and they are resistant to the idea of losing a mere foot of it, then get them drunk and do it for them. When they wake up the next morning tell them it was for the children. If they are still mad then try and deflect their rage by saying something like "well, I guess I shouldn't mention the tattoo on your ass then!"

Back at home it was time to make some english muffins for my one and only customer who wanted to place a special order. Wait, one and only paying customer I should clarify. You see, when she places an order for them I think back to our tutorial earlier in the year and how I am ever grateful for the opportunity to fine tune my methods with a master. The muffins are now something I am rather proud of. To say dear Shuna is the one ordering them is akin to doing that little childhood dance we all know: "She likes mine better! Nyaah, nyaah, nyaaaaah nyaaah, nyaah! I get to make them, not you!" and all the other things or stupid stuff you'd say when you were feeling superior to your peers. It's not much, just some english muffins. And believe me, I know she could make them for herself, and better, but why? She probably has loads of friends willing to make and feed her anything at a moments notice, because in the past she'd shared some part of her knowledge or the most amazing dessert you'd ever had with them.

Speaking of the past, this one wasn't too long ago but if you've ever read this blog you might remember the bacon/chocolate combo thing and how in a vicodin induced stupor I blathered on about how great they are together. With weasel coffee of all things. Well, with the passing of my 135th birthday this week, my partner and monkey made me a choco/choco twisty candled birthday cake, and as a bonus I received a bacon chocolate bar from my older sister (yep, she's 140!) The cake was scrumptious and the bar was rather, uh......unique. It was, well, I mean is since I still have half, actually, really good. No, really. I guess if it was killer I would have snarfed the whole thing in one sitting, but it's salty enough to keep me from over indulging. It's pleasant and familiar somehow, like having a very smooth dark milk chocolate bar with smokey bits of salt in it. Only, after eating it, you realize that some of the smokey salty crunchy bits were bacon as you pick it from your teeth with your tongue. Overall though, the bacon works well with the chocolate. Really. I'm not gonna go start buying them and making a habit out of it, but if you find that the bacon chocolate bar is an itch that just needs scratching, then go find yourself one of these.

So, there you have it. I really have been alive and well, enjoying this love and food filled life, despite the radio silence. Sorry to my friends and fellow bloggers out there who I've failed to drop by and comment on lately. I've been overwhelmed with double-monkeydom and am still working on the groove........

two great tastes (?)

The door opens without knock or notice of any kind and in pops my cousin "greetings D!"

"Oh, hello Rohan. How are you?"

"You mean, are you well? You americans say it all wrong."

"Right Ro. Sorry. Are you well?"

"Yes, thank you for asking. Dearest of cousins, please forgive my intrusion but what on god's green earth is this next to your fruit. A tastie of sorts?"

"Wha?.......uh, oh that? A few gifts from my SIL. Want some coffee and a nibble of chocolate?"

"Indeed!"

"Well, take a closer look."

"Bloody hell, what the %#&! is this?"

"A few gifts."

"GIFTS? Like from a, what do you call it, a white elephant party?"

"Yes. I mean, no. No white elephant component, but yes, gifts like the thank you very much, I will enjoy these items immensely KIND. Ones that I will enjoy without fail. Ones that on some strange level, I have been searching for going on 5 plus years!"

"Are we really going to have coffee that has passed through an animal while enjoying a square of bacon flavored chocolate?"

"Yeah, check it out. It says mit speck on the bar and weasel on the bag. Everyone knows what that means."



I really have been trying to find a chocolate dessert item that contains bacon. More specifically a bacon chocolate chip cookie. I've never been brave enough, no, make that drunk enough to have attempted a batch at home though, and then into my lap drops a candy bar containing bacon, that puts off the experiment for at least another year. Wheew!

And the passed through an animal coffee? Haven't you ever heard of the stuff? Well, this gifted version doesn't actually pass through the weasel, or any weasel for that matter. It has just been processed with enzymes to simulate the passing through a civet's intestinal tract and out it's butt, only then to be dried in the sun, then ground up and brewed. Ah, technology.

Mmmm, that's some tasty weasel.
And Zotter is my new culinary hero.
Just thought I'd share.

draw the line

I've always considered myself a geographic bad ass.
I know, it's not much of a title. Oxymoronic to some, and just plain dumb to others.

Whatever.

I don't care. Those who say this can stay in their tiny little world with their spatially challenged minds, never really understanding the enormity of the mistake in native americans being called indians when first encountered by europeans. These are the type of folks who think that the north pole is terra firma, rather than an imagined bit of space contained within a lead in the ice, occasionally seen in the summer these days thanks to global warming. Or what about explaining why Greenland and Antarctica look so frickin' huge when projected onto a map to these people? Oh, wait. Am I talking about you?

My point is, that we americans in general, suck at geography. We have things fixed in our minds, that don't correspond to the reality of our planet. To me, this is the greatest challenge for people to overcome when trying to eat local. First, people have to know what local is. Then, they have to wake up and realize that local is a relative term. Defined by whatever it is you're talking about. The avocados pictured here are local. About three hundred miles away local (Ventura area) but that is waaaaay better than Chilean avocados.

Let's get tougher though and tackle chocolate for example. For all but one of the states of the union, this is not a commercial crop. Any guesses which one that might be? It's not Milwaukee! (Besides, remember, that's not a state.) It's Hawaii! Our Island state out in the middle of the biggest puddle on our planet. If you live in the islands, you can get local chocolate products in a very limited supply. But if you're here on the mainland, nope. Unless you want to call 2000+ miles local. Which I don't. The geographer in me........just can't go there.

I bring this up, because this morning I decided to make fun of my geekiness to help me solve a dilemna. I've been struggling internally with how to deal with non-local products in my diet. You know, the ones that just ain't from around here. Like chocolate, or coffee say. Or dry spices like cinnamon and pepper. Do I just ditch these things when I'm attempting to eat more local? Do I say: "I'm gonna try and eat things, whenever possible, from within 200 miles of my home" and just give up my garam masala, late night chocolate, and morning joe? Hell no.

I use my head, decide what's best to do on a case by case basis, starting with coffee. I draw an imaginary line from myself in space, extending some 2500 miles from here in the east bay. I imagine this as my "acceptable" radius of coffee. I figure this will cover Hawaii, all of Mexico, and maybe get me somewhere past Guatemala and into El Salvador. Then I bust out the technology and check my imaginings with the realities of satellite accurracy enabled mapping. Turns out Hawaii and Mexico are fine, but I'm only going to get into western Guatemala. Not too bad I tell myself. There are certainly some kick-ass coffees being produced in central america. But I really should spend more time with the map of the area. I mean, what the hell was I thinking, that maybe I'd be drinking some fine Costa Rican stuff too?


Then again, maybe I could stick to Hawaiian coffee for the month of September. My sis just got back from the islands and brought me back a taste of the volcano. Turns out this stuff is a special brand made for geographers like me.........jackasses!

Okay. So I'm sorry if I rubbed anyone the wrong way by poking fun at our collective geography skills or by mocking how ridiculous our definitions of local can be. Remember people, taken all in moderation and with a grain of local salt, the world can be a better place. Or at least a better place to make fun of it all. Can we at least agree on that?

the sound of one hand clapping

Life with a new one involves a lot of holding. Little people need touching and love like fish need water. It's a basic requirement that ends up tasking the parents with cradling them when doing just about anything. Walking from here to there, you have to relearn where your periphery is, lest you stub a toe trying to negotiate toys while carrying a squirmy eight pound weight. You end up having one arm immobilized with the itty-bitty monkey, while the other arm does everything else. You become quite proficient in living your life one handed, while your kid lives their own life with your other.

Sometimes, when you are eating dinner, with what you think is a sleeping baby, a tiny foot juts up and obscures the view. And by now you were thinking how easy it was getting, living one handed. I mean, you can still sit down and eat a meal. You just might not be able to see it.

Then it dawns on you, in one of those moments of clarity. For some unknown reason the solution presents itself out of the ether. Maybe this happens in the shower, or while sitting on the toilet, the point being it generally occurs during a task that involves doing something that is so automatic, it gives your brain a chance to wander the dials and see what is coming in on the other stations. For me, this last frequency check I heard something say "sammich'."

There it was. I need to eat more sandwiches. So I started with breakfast.

With everyone home, and all of us adjusting to new schedules, we often wake up cranky and hungry. The monkey is adjusting in her new role of sharing the spotlight, so I've been trying to ease the rough spots by getting us off to a good start. Toasted english muffins with laid yesterday egg scramble and high-fat Jersey cow melty cheese. This one felt good to hold in one hand and chomp into while the butter ran down my chin. It was a nice start indeed.


The monkey and her momma were heading out and spotted a plate on our doorstep. I quick call to Aunty revealed it to be homemade gravlax, slices of sourdough olive loaf, and a generous portion of creamy cheesey. As the little tyke and I chilled at home, what else to do? I turned the gift into a sandwich! With the wee one konked out asleep, I had two hands, I relished in the ability and ate it open face style.

Wow! Holy salted salmonoidae sis', this was really good! Like, killer good. But next time, please cure an entire salmon as one serving was simply not enough.

Pancakes aren't a sandwich, I know. But at breakfast the monkey had so politely asked for them, that come lunch time we were willing to cave in. To keep the sandwich day theme feast, I stacked them and put a layer of butter and powdered sugar in the middle. If I had done up some bacon and jammed it between, maybe I could call it a real sandwich. But I'm still giving it marks for resembling one as having two pieces of bread with a discrete middle, and if it comes right down to it the ability of being eaten one handed.

They call black cod "butterfish" for a reason. Dredged in a hot rub and flour mix (giving it an Ethiopian berbere quality) and fried, it lent this pita a nice spicey note to compliment the two rounds of heirloom tomato, avocado slices and tomato basil hummus. Although a bit tough to grasp with one hand and keep together, this middle eastern/african inspired sandwich continued the theme for the day nicely. Now, just how to end it all on a high note after the buttery goodness of the fish. Hmmmmm, there must be a way............?

.........with more, prodigious amounts of butterfat, how else? The cookies are a chocochip and oatmeal base with coconut and walnuts, surrounding a fresh mint and choco-chip ice cream. The mint was a mixture of the four kinds around our house, with an emphasis on the spearamint end of things. It was refreshing and crunchy where needed, anchored in the sweet cream and bitter chocolate. Now that, that there is definately easy eatin' with one hand.

Afterwards, when one hand was free, I realized I had survived my day o' sammich', I gave myself an applaud. Applaud like singular; just one. Having practice now at this too, I enjoy the sound of one hand clapping.

mas fuyu, por favor

Huh? What the hell is that a picture of you might ask? It is the inside of our worm bin, ready for a new batch of semi-rotted plant material (read: the inevitable fruit gone mushy or rank). If this were one of those photos where someone had drawn animation on top for that comic book-like effect, there would be a tiny message spelled out in individual coffee ground particles on the skin of some sweet potato that reads: NO MOR PURSIMNS! PLEEZE! or DON'T YA NED MOR COUGH-EE?

Two years ago, in a stupid decision (mine most likely) we put the worm bin outside so that it would not be a source of entertainment for our then rug-monkey. Problem was, red wigglers don't like it hot or cold. They prefer the ambient temps found in our local fog, and not much on either side of that. When we rescued them from their abusive outdoor conditions, the population in the bin had been reduced drastically. With them now safely inside, and with an injection of new annelid genetic stock, our "Wriggly Ranch" is now back on line, with a growing population when fed regularly. I'm back to feeding them about once every week or so, as they will only eat roughly their own body mass in food per day. If you "only" have a few hundred (500? who really knows, they're hard to count as you can imagine) then they are more fun than functional and it takes more than a few days for them to go through one day of compostable kitchen waste. They have their routine fare; coffee grounds, various peels and ends of things like potatoes; but I was afraid if I gave them persimmon again it might erupt in some bizarre protest. You see, after my last post, there were STILL 5 gooey fuyus on the counter, waiting for a purpose besides being fodder in the worm bin. I needed to try something new. No way around it, I'm going to ingest these frickin' fuyu if it kills me.

I went with the blended theme from last time as a base to start with. I was imagining something along the lines of a smoothie with fresh ground spices creating something reminicent of a chai tea, but with chocolate. I peeled the fuyus, plopped them in the blender and gave it a whirl. Mmmm, baby food. It was time to play spices. I had my lovely assistant to help me add and pulverize the spices that flowed out of the cabinet and into the mortar. I started with a few cardamom pods, peeling away the skins and mashing the seeds.

"What do we add next Daddy?" she asks, grabbing the pestle and clutching it in her hands. How about some cinnamon honey?

"Oh yeah!" BASH BASH BASH, SCRRRAAAAAAAAPE, BASH BASH.

"What do we add next?" Some clove. THUMP, BASH BASH.

"And now Daddy?" Uh, how about a little ginger? The bottle gets turned past horizontal in her little paws, resulting in at least a full teaspoon dumped in. She begins shaking her head: "yeah, I like ginger, but not too much cause it's really really spicey." Not TOO much honey? Here let me have that bottle, thanks. SCRAAAAAAPE SCRAPE SCRAPE, THUMP.

"What's next?" Mmmm, black pepper. You know how to handle the peppermill, give it a few cranks over the mortar. SHICK SHICK SHIIIIICK SHICK.

The kitchen now smells like we're swimming in chai tea. Perfect. Now for some chocolate. I hand this to the monkey, counting on an ample addition of powder to our mix. FWUMPF!

SCORE! At least two heaping tablespoons of the chocolatl are now added. I look at the powder mix we have going, give it a whisk with a fork a few times and sample it by licking the tip of my finger and dabbing a taste on the end. The monkey, seeing this licks two full fingers and most of her palm, then begins to put her whole hand in the mortar for a fistfull of the concoction, until she looks up and sees my reaction. Thinking twice about the possibly forfeited spice grinding rights she now enjoys, she gives me a coy smile, dips her index finger in and says "I was just being silly."

It tasted nice and chai-ee, so I added some more chocolate (almost always a good decision, right?) and pondered how to mix it into the persimmon without it clumping. I drizzled some vanilla soy milk into it while the monkey whisked away. We poured the resulting syrup into the blender, added some sugar and hit play. It needed a bit more soy milk to get it circulating freely. When finished, I gave it a taste. Yummy? Well, not quite. It was a touch frothy in consistency, and along with the aromatic cardamom fumes it was somewhat hard to get down. I was about to ditch the couple cups in our compost bin outside, maybe even pour a bit in the worm bin for experiments sake. I thought about my options. Then I poured it into a few ceramic cups and put it in the freezer, intuiting that making it colder might somehow help while I thought some more.

A few hours later it dawned on me. Dilution is the solution to your polution (A joke saying I heard from my days working in the environmental field) We needed more mass, like at least 25% more. And of course, in the form of more chocolate and ginger. Scharffen Berger chunks, and diced crystalized ginger. Mmmmm. Talk about a no brainer though, I mean you could probably add this to cat turds and make it taste good (thanks JM).

With the proportions within my imagined parameters, and many bits of chocolate having "fallen" into my mouth, I removed the semi-frozen cement from the freezer and mixed in the aggregate. It looked good and promising, and a little nibble gave me hope that I had saved this free fruit from being recycled by the wigglers. Time would tell.

The following day, I tried it again, serving it up in one of those tiny little ramekins, embellished with some "theme" toppings. My first impression was that somehow I had managed to make a decent sorbet, that believe it or not, I would serve again, should anyone be brave enough to eat it once they are told the ingredients. I gave a bite to Aunty, knowing full well that persimmons aren't her thing, but wanting some feedback on the spicing from someone older than three.

"Whoa, chai! Damn D, that's a lot of cardamom......oh, okay, now there's the chocolate." What do you think, is it too much ginger?

"No. Cardamom though, yes."


So, I thought about my spice proportions, and figured that it might help if I wrote this one down, but adjusted the recipe to fit more of how it could have been altered for greater appreciation by others possibly infested with those pernicious, too soft to eat out of hand, persimmons.


CHOCO-CHAI FUYU SORBETTO

4 cardamom pods
1 small cinnamon stick
4 whole cloves
2 t ground ginger
1 t black peppercorns
3 T chocolate powder (Scharffen Berger, just chocolate)
5 soft fuyu persimmon (very soft hachiya should work too, but maybe use 1 less as they tend to run bigger)
1/4 cup organic sugar
1/2 cup vanilla soy milk (substitute freely here)
1/4 cup diced crystallized ginger
1/2 cup coarse cut dark chocolate

Grind spices to a fine powder, add chocolate powder, mix well and taste. Feel free to add more chocolate, please. Mix whatever liquid you are using, a little at a time to the spice mixture until a runny syrup -like consistency is reached. Peel and seed (if necessary) the persimmons and puree in a blender. Add the spicey chocolate syrup, the sugar, and continue blending. Use more of the milky ingredient if needed to get the mixture circulating and smooth throughout. When thick enough to stick to the sides and certainly requiring a spatula for complete removal, transfer the mix into a bowl. Chop the chocolate into big chunks and the ginger into small ones and add. Mix thoroughly, then transfer into freezer safe containers (preferably serving sized) and let sit until firm. Serve. If its too hard for your liking, set it out for a minute and try it again later.

And yes, a disk of crystalized ginger and block of chocolate, sprinkled with chocolate shavings will make it taste even better.

mole'chiladas, 3-beans and a sweet thing (friday night's menu)

Man, I love chocolate. On my trip into the Sierras, I ate it everyday, as I am sure many other backpackers do. It is certainly a time when you can justify the calories. Chocolate is a good way to have a high-calorie per unit weight food (not the best, but palatability can be a huge factor in the back-country,) it is good for fiber (that is, if you like it dark, less sweet, and in quantity) and needs no preparation (in bar form.) This photo, upon review of my trip, was taken on the first night that I didn't eat chocolate for dinner. The previous two nights were too cold to justify spending time cooking much of anything. When the wind calmed for a day, and I feasted on that gorgeous Sierra afternoon and evening (see previous post) I was full when it came time for dessert. I may have skipped eating chocolate that night, but I thought about it. I thought mortar and pestle. I thought mole. This sat in the rock-like vessel of my head, and was ground around for a few days until my first real opportunity to cook something that would take much more than an hour. With a guest from the past having dinner with us, I had occasion to make what had been mashed. Dark chocolate ancho mole.

I knew what I wanted in it, but the proportions were lacking. I began my search for a new recipe by consulting recipelink and decided that as usual, recipes are really just outlines. The resulting concoction is something I am quite proud of.

I began with 2 ounces of dried ancho chili peppers that I seeded and stemmed and put in warm water to soak for about an hour. While this was happening I ground 1/2t coriander and 1/4t cinnamon stick in the mortar. To this I added 1T sesame seeds and almost 1/2c blanched slivered almonds. When this was a nice consistent paste I added 1/4t ground clove and then began adding the chili peppers after mincing them in batches. Upon pastiness being reached I added 2 large cloves of minced garlic and about 2T powdered chocolate. This looked nice, but needed the dried fruit component (raisens?) The monkey suggested that we go out in the yard and pick some blackberries and I thought, "what a great idea!" so we went out in the yard and harvested some blackberries and strawberries (they are on the way to the blackberries.) About 1/4c of mixed berries made it in the mole and I continued to pound, pound, pound, grind, grind, grind. In went 1/2 a yellow onion (chopped) and then yet more grinding and pounding. At this point there was too much in the mortar to contain, so I opted to start sauteeing the paste in a few tablespoons of olive oil, figuring that the onion would break down just fine. Over a medium heat, I heated the chocolatey paste for about 15 minutes and then added about 1c veggie stock and began simmering. This continued for about an hour, with frequent additions of 1/4 - 1/2 cup of stock to keep it from becoming too thick. In the end, it was a thick dark paste, begging to become enchilada sauce.

As this was cooking I boiled some water and added 1c israeli couscous. After ten minutes I drained it and gave it a qiuck rinse and then added some canola oil to it while I began chopping 2 nectarines and 1/2c toasted and salted almonds. I added these to the couscous with the juice of 1 lime and a good 1/2t of "oh Peggy Hill, this need nutmeg!." The result was nice, but not as sweet as I was envisioning so I added some agave nectar to taste. Hmmmm, still not right. I look down at the monkey as she grabs a dried fig from the counter and once again I am inspired. In goes about 8 fried figs, all chopped up, and now it is just right. All together, it was sweet and nutty, and kinda like a dessert pasta salad, if you can picture such a thing.

I'd also been jonesing for a 3 bean salad, and Barbara had bestowed upon me a ton of fresh herbs during my last visit so I was primed for an herby, oil and lemon coated salad. I used 1 can each of organic garbanzos, white kidneys (cannellini) and pintos. To these I added from the garden 4 small diced tomatoes, 1 largish zucchini (julienned for a short noodle-like effect,) 1/2 cup thinly disced baby carrots, 1/4 cup chopped basil, 1T oregano, 1t rosemary, and 1T of fresh thyme and 1/4c parsley from Barbara. For the dressing I used 1/4c of the mildest olive oil we have and the juice of 1 lemon, plus salt and pepper to taste.

With the salads complete, I sliced 1/2lb of crimini mushrooms and a large onion and began sauteeing them in some olive oil. Shortly after, I crumbled in a block of tofu (quickly sliced and hand pressed.) After the onion and tofu were getting golden yellow, I removed the mixture from the pan and added veggie stock (2c maybe) to de-glaze. I then added about 1c of the mole and stirred it in. The resulting sauce was intoxicating. I soaked 3 tortillas (blue corn) at a time in the sauce and commenced enchilada construction. Along with the sauteed mush/onion/tofu combo I added grated vegan spicey cheddar. With 6 enchiladas in a small square pan, I doused it with the remaining sauce, a touch of the cheddar, and baked it covered with foil at 350 for about 30 minutes.


The baked mole'chiladas completely satified the chocolatl yearnings. The bean salad was tangy and herby, while the couscous was sweet and nutty. Together, they tested many parts of the palatte, and to me, seemed to please them all. It was a foray into some new territory, that resulted in "Ohh, that's good" from a few at the table (see ya soon M.)