Cabbage and Leek Gratin: SO Not Vegan

...and it's not much of a looker, but it's delicious.



I pulled this (almost) entire from Deborah Madison's Vegetarian Suppers cookbook, which J's parents gave me for my birthday last year. Here it is with Deborah Madison's proportions, but mostly my prose:

1 1/2 pounds green cabbage, Savoy if possible, chopped into 2" squares
3 fat leeks, white parts only, quartered & chopped
salt
1/3 cup flour
1 cup milk
1/3 cup sour cream
3 eggs
3 tablespoons finely chopped parsley or dill

1. Preheat oven to 350 and butter or oil a 6-cup gratin dish (I used a glass pie plate)

2. Put water on to boil for the cabbage, and when it boils, add some salt and the cabbage and leeks & boil for 5 minutes. After that, press as much water out of the vegetables as possible so it doesn't dilute the custard (I squeezed the water out using a lint-free tea towel).

3. Whisk the flour, milk, sour cream, eggs, and herbs together, then add the veg. Season with salt. Pour into the dish and bake until firm and lightly browned, about 45 minutes.

Now, what I did differently: the major difference is that I used marjoram instead of the the parsley or dill--mainly because I was in the mood for marjoram, and also because I think it goes nicely with egg. I also added about 3/4 cup white cheddar to the mix, in part because I was not planning to make the mustard cream sauce that DM suggests to go alongside it (though that would be good, too--I just didn't have any shallots or white wine vinegar in the house).

I also just realized that I think I only put in 1/3 cup of milk, too, but it worked out beautifully anyway. I can't think how the extra milk would have changed much about it, though maybe it'd have been creamier. Anyway, no loss!

Making it again, I would continue to use the marjoram, but I would also consider making a breadcrumb crust for a little textural contrast. This one doesn't want a full-blown crust, I think. But DM is right about Savoy cabbage being a better choice than quotidian green cabbage. The cheddar was a nice choice, but for those of you out there who don't have to avoid rennet I can see various delightful variations on the theme. I think Cheshire would have been perfect in this, but I couldn't find any. And if I weren't allergic to pork, I think a bit of bacon would add a lot.

Now, because this recipe is SO not vegan, I expect I may be attempting a lactose-free version for J sometime soon! So I wonder if substituting silken tofu for the sour cream and soy milk for the milk would work. In that case, I think I would use dill instead of marjoram to compensate for the tofu's blandness.

The whole thing was very quick & easy to assemble, and the baking required no attention at all.

Goth Chicken

According to its package, that chicken enjoyed her life. I made sure she--or, at least, I--enjoyed her afterlife. If I had known that carcass was going to contribute to as much and as various deliciousness, I'd have documented it along the way, but I had other things on the mind, like passing my dissertation proposal defense and keeping Kleenex in business with spring tree pollen allergies.

First I roasted her with some potatoes, and had steamed asparagus on the side. Divine. And much to my delight, the package also contained two livers, which I fried up as an appetizer. Glory days.

A few sandwiches later, I pulled apart a thigh and a leg and made green curry with the rest of the asparagus and some bamboo shoots I found in the cupboard.

Then, Saturday, I sent her off in style as enchiladas. I had in mind to try to replicate the enchilada half of Charlottesville Guadalajara's "#F" (would half of #F be # C?), which I did, except that my cheese wasn't right and I didn't also try to replicate their salsa--so really, I just had chicken enchiladas, which were gorgeous. If I had known they were that easy, I'd have been making them all along!



The rest of the carcass is in the freezer, awaiting inclusion in stock.

Saturday was a day of recreational cooking all around: I also made my first cake from scratch. Devil's food. Much better than Duncan Hines. That recipe, like the enchilada sauce recipe, came from Joy of Cooking. I didn't take a picture, though, because I decided not to ice it, so it's not all that pretty--but it sure does taste good.

And a couple of weeks ago, I made latkes, but forgot to write about that. Not kosher, but totally fun to make in that way that frying things can be. I et them with garlic mayonnaise alongside pinto beans and asparagus.



In gardening news, my parsley sprouted but hasn't achieved its real leaves yet. And I found the perfect use for the cable box:



That's chard in the tupperware, waiting to sprout. Chard seeds look like they're from outer space. I have some lettuce seeds started elsewhere, but there wasn't room on the cable box for them, too!

The Book I'm Not Reading: I'll know as soon as I come up with a revised research plan!

Celebration of a Rite of Passage

Thanks to all-y'all who have sent along good-luck wishes about my proposal defense--I passed, and assuming I also passed my Irish translation exam last week, I'm now ABD! Woo hoo!

One Hell of a Horoscope

I often forget to check Free Will Astrology, but I'm always glad when I do. In addition to my own fabulous horoscope--

"The great theme is not Romeo and Juliet," said poet Anne Sexton. "The great theme we all share is that of becoming ourselves, of overcoming our father and mother, of assuming our identities somehow." This is certainly your great theme, Capricorn. And it's especially important for you to devote yourself to it now. You're at a turning point in your life-long transformation. You're being presented with a clear-cut choice between sinking back into the ill-fitting yet comfortable mold that others have shaped for you, or else striding out into the frontier in a brave push to become a higher, deeper, more complete version of yourself.

--fellow Charlottesville-o-holic Danny Schmidt got a shout-out on the Leo horoscope:

This would be a perfect time for you to write your ultimate personal manifesto. I'm talking about composing a sweeping statement of the core ideas that fuel your lust for life. To get you in the mood, take a look at the following lyrics from Danny Schmidt's song "Company of Friends." "I believe in restless hunger . . . I believe in private thunder . . . I believe in inspiration . . . I believe in slow creation . . . I believe in lips on ears . . . I believe in being wrong . . . I believe in contradiction . . . I believe in living smitten . . . I believe our book is written by our company of friends."

Too cool, man, too cool.

In other news, I finally made it to that East Village bodega and got me a nice big box of Barry's Tea.

P. S. Nice of you to stop by and leave a comment, Justin from Harney's. I'll definitely check out that loose Assam.

The Story of My Life

(except that I can't speak in a London accent.)

Final Verdict

...on the Harney's tea: the other day, I tried a single-bag cup in the afternoon, and I stand by my initial reaction. Not much flavor, and for an Irish breakfast tea, it's missing whatever tea leaf it is that gives Barry's its reddish color and, I think, some of that particular flavor. So basically, that puts it on a level with Twinings, except that Harney's is more expensive.

This morning, having no other choice (except to drink coffee, which I decided against), I tried two Harney's tea bags. That made an acceptable (if not exciting) cup of tea, but one I can deal with until I can get to the bodega in the East Village. And in the meantime, I unearthed some aging loose Assam from the cupboard for afternoon cups of tea.

It's possible that other Harney's blends are worth buying--just not the Irish Breakfast.

In other news: great fun at the Ceol session last night!

The Book I'm Not (Re)Reading: Nancy Fraser's Unruly Practices.

Promissory Note

Looking at my blog hits from the last day or so, I notice that someone with an IP address from Harney & Sons tea company visited my blog, presumably after Googling "Harney's Irish Breakfast" from two posts ago. I wonder--was that visitor looking for online public opinion about the tea? If so, fair play to you!

If so, and if you, my unnamed Harney's employee, happen to visit again, this post is a promise to try the tea later in the day, when I am awake enough to think about it beyond "I can't taste this!" There are several reasons I prefer Irish tea for breakfast: first, it's more bracing than other blends, and I stew it so that I get that extra hit of tannin to help wake me up (I think this is one reason I often buy Lyons instead of Barry's, because Lyons is a little sharper than Barry's Red Label). Second, I often wake up slightly congested, so that the characteristics of finer teas can be lost on me that time of day. Finally, the volume of tea in a bag of Barry's or Lyons is probably about 2 or 2.5 times that in a Twinings bag or in a Harney's bag, and I think that makes a huge difference. So, for flavor, I intend to try fecking in *two* tea bags of the Harney's for a fair comparison. That's not cost-effective for me in the long run, since I paid about $5 for 20 tea bags at Citarella, and I can get--hmmm, 40 Barry's or Lyons bags for $8 at the bodega.

I appreciate that Harney's is a (fairly) local company (they're in Millerton, NY), and if they could replicate a real Irish teabag, I'd happily switch over. But I suspect that my preferences put me in the minority of American tea-drinkers, so that's not likely to happen.