Koshary

This is an unbelievably tasty Egyptian dish, and its preparation definitely tested my pot-juggling abilities. I had to make: rice, pasta, lentils, tomato sauce and fried onions (meaning four pots and pans, one washed and reused). Luckily, my husband, who grew up making the stuff, helped me, meaning of course that this post is going to be slightly less entertaining.

Rice, Pasta, and Lentils

1 cup rice
1 cup penne pasta
1 cup brown lentils

Make one cup of rice, pasta, and lentils. I read that I had to boil 5 cups of water to every one cup of lentils, but that seemed to be a dirty rumor. I had to drain at least a cup and a half of water after 45 minutes of cooking, so I don't really know what instruction to give, but ultimately you want to have 1 cup each of pasta, rice and lentils.

Tomato Sauce

1 can tomato sauce
1 teaspoon paprika
1/2 teaspoon coriander

Cook the tomato sauce on the stovetop at medium heat. Add one teaspoon of paprika and 1/2 teaspoon coriander. Mix well.

Fried Onions

one onion
lots of oil
salt

My husband took over after I nearly chopped off my finger while cutting the onions (which need to be finely chopped), so this is what I observed: he didn't measure anything, but to me he put way too much oil in the pan. He cooked them until brown. Then he put them on the plate and added way too much salt. But I guess that's okay, because the onions only decorate the top of koshary.

Presentation

1/4 cup rice goes on the plate first, followed by 1/4 cup lentils and 1/4 cup pasta. Spread sauce over the mix and finally top it with fried onions.

POEM

Forgive me as I only found one unlineated poem by the Egyptian poet Salah Jaheen in English. I am working on some translations.

Corn is not like gold
Corn is like the fallaheen.
Thin stems, their roots feeding from mud.
Like Ismaeen... and Mohamadeen
And Hussein Abou Oweida, who suffered and was beaten
when he requested a handful of corn he had watered with sweat.

Chocolate Chip Cookies

After numerous pitches for a column series for VegNews and being ignored, I am starting a blog that will account my haphazard cooking methods that have only become more haphazard since I became a vegan in February 2008, since we all know that vegans live on another planet and I am still adjusting to the atmosphere here. Plus, my methods were never that great to begin with. I’m going to start by listing a recipe--it may or may not be an accurate one but it is the one I used. Most of my recipes will be inspired by international dishes, as my experiences in the Peace Corps and other travels abroad have made me aware that most of the planet eats a vegan diet without any planning. Then I’m going to recount my method, which again, may or may not be a correct method. Then I’m going to tell you the result, and you can alter the recipe according to your reason. Lastly, a poem to compliment the featured dish.

First, back story: I learned to cook when I was 19. I was a care attendant for a woman with muscular dystrophy, and as part of my job, I was required to cook meals. I always burnt the meals, the Taco Bell bailed me out, etc...I wasn’t immediately fired because, well, I’m pretty nice, but my client threatened me with the ultimatum that I would be fired in the near future if I didn’t shape up. To make a long story short, I rose to the occasion. I got better but never entirely perfect, and hence my cooking pursuits began, always marked by the kind of low comedy you would expect to find in an I Love Lucy episode. Here it goes. I start with a recipe close to home, because this just happened last week. Exotic dishes soon to come:

Vegan Chocolate Chip Cookies

2 cups flour
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
1 cup butter substitute (I use soy spread)
¾ cups cane sugar
¾ cups brown sugar
2 egg substitutes (for one egg, I use ¼ cup applesauce)
1 cup vegan chocolate chips (they exist, really)
1 cup walnuts

First, I only had one mixing bowl. I could have washed another one so that I'd have two, but I thought it easier to slip into the “Peace Corps Adaption Mode.” One of the many things you discover in the Peace Corps is that Americans do things the hard way: sifting flour, using an electric mixer, combining wet and dry ingredients separately. If you only have one bowl, naturally, you should use the one bowl, right? I threw all the above into the mix, minus the walnuts and chips, including soy spread that had not softened. So it was a little difficult at first to mix with a fork, but, lucky me, I had encountered this difficulty before and I knew what to do. I used my (clean!) hands, clenching and unclenching my fists, watching the butter ooze out through my knuckles. After 20 minutes--Success! I had already set my oven at 375 long before. When I added the nuts and chips, the chips melted slightly in the dough because the dough was hot due to my hot hands molding it due to my hot body doing calisthenics in a warm kitchen. I tasted the dough (one of the good things about eating vegan cookie dough is you don’t risk contracting salmonella). It tasted funny. I thought I should add more brown sugar, so I did. I tasted it again. Still not right. Then I realized that I usually added some cinnamon even though the recipe doesn’t call for cinnamon—where did I get the recipe anyway? Maybe I created it, so I say you should add cinnamon: shake as much as you’d like on top of the dough. I’ve discovered that if you add cinnamon late in the process, around the same time as you add the chocolate chips and nuts, the cookies tasted a little like graham-crackers—mmmmm. I tasted them again.

That’s weird, I thought, maybe they’ll taste better after they bake.

I rolled them into balls and put them on my sheet. I stuck them in the oven and set the timer for ten minutes (where would I be without timers, right?).

About a minute after they were in the oven, I realized I forgot:

1 tsp vanilla

So I took out the sheet out, threw the balls of slightly baked dough into the bowl, added about a generous 1 and ½ tsp of vanilla before mixing the dough with my hands, reforming them into balls, and putting them into the oven again for ten minutes.

You think I’m kidding? They were still pretty tasty, but not as good as some I’ve made in the past. Unfortunately though, my precise methods can never be replicated, which is probably a good thing.

Here’s a poem by Susan Rich:

A Poem for Will, Baking

Each night he stands before
the kitchen island, begins again
from scratch: chocolate, cinnamon, nutmeg,
he beats, he folds;
keeps faith in what happens
when you combine known quantities,
bake twelve minutes at a certain heat.
The other rabbis, the scholars,
teenagers idling by the beach,
they receive his offerings,
in the early hours, share his grief.
It’s enough now, they say.
Each day more baked goods to friends,
and friends of friends, even
the neighborhood cops. He can’t stop,
holds on to the rhythmic opening
and closing of the oven,
the timer’s expectant ring.
I was just baking, he says if
someone comes by. Again and again,
evenings winter into spring,
he creates the most fragile
of confections: madelines
and pinwheels, pomegranate crisps
and blue florentines;
each crumb to reincarnate
a woman – a savoring
of what the living once could bring.

I'm using the three pillars of idealism in this blog: poetry, Peace Corps, and veganism to try to encourage others to eat a vegan diet one day in the week. No other lifestyle choice has been proven to have a more positive impact on health, animal rights, and the environment than the vegan lifestyle. You don't have to be vegan everyday--leave that job to the weirdos like me. You can make a positive impact just by eating as a vegan for one day in the week. It's fun. It's cheap. And it's easy, unless, of course, you happen to do things like I do.