Why a good cooking wine is tastier than Haterade.

(That cute little bugger up there is Hezzie, our new tofu-plushie mascot, made by a student named Julia who was inspired to have a vegan bake sale and also, consequently, rules.)

I'd like to take a brief break from our regularly scheduled Le Deliciousness to have a little chat about the ginormous MetaFilter post that showed up about Hezbollah Tofu a few days ago. But first I should point out that said chat is a twisty-panty-free zone. As in, those of us who do actually wear underwear are not getting our knickers in a bunch, because this project is not a he-said, she-said, anonymous-internet-asshole-said war of the words; if you want one of those, just start a PPK topic with the subject line "IS HONEY VEGAN?" (But please, for the love of Seitan, do not actually do this.)

This is, from its conception, a charity project. Nobody will make money here except for the vegan-oriented nonprofit of our choosing. So I don't feel the need to strap on my Xena armor, give my sidekick Gabrielle a bi-curious smooch and march off to defend my cause; the cause is explicit, and you're in or your out. (And you have to make it work! [The melding of Xena and Project Runway is clearly symptomatic of my recent sleep deprivation.])

Anyway, if I were in a bitchier mood, or had consumed more caffeine, I might go through point-by-point to refute the posters who felt that the contributing chefs and cooks here were just scraping by with the "gimmick" of veganism, those who said that the resulting recipes would be tragically bland, or those who merely took the opportunity, in boorish Bourdain fashion, to trot out all the limp, haggard anti-vegan remarks that most of us could probably recite backwards, half-asleep, while stirring a pot of soup.

But instead all I'll say is this--bring it. Seriously. Any bored 14-year-old in his parents' basement can criticize recipes on the internet that they haven't so much as tasted, let alone attempted. So in the spirit of keeping the content of Hezbollah Tofu as varied and rich as possible, I will invite the haters to exchange the haterade for a nice dry sherry and see what they can do with adapted French recipes. Test the recipes posted here. Adapt your own recipes and send them in. Leave the meat and cheese in if you want; that just makes it more fun.

Or, you know, just hang out and talk shit. Although I wouldn't necessarily count on that as a life plan or a career; that really only worked for one person in this scenario, and we're pretty much kicking his pockmarked ass.

Tournedos d'Seitan with Poached Figs

Last week, all of the brakes on my big-ass truck gave out all at once (there's going to be a point to this, I promise), and since I need the fucker to stop when I ask it to, and can't be without it for longer than a few hours because I depend on it for taking care of the rescued ponies (that's a whole 'nother blog right there, though), I took it in to my friendly neighborhood redneck mechanic. While I was sitting in the office there, staring at the Billy Bass on the wall and mentally calculating how broke I was going to be after Big Bessie got 4 new rotors, Bubba came breezing through with what was ostensibly going to be lunch--a big hunk of bloody pork tied up with butcher's twine, ready for the grill.

And while I revile all things that resemble Anthony Bourdain's lower intestinal tract, especially raw, almost-rotten pork, the whole butcher's-twine business has always kind of intrigued me. I mean, it's kind of adorable, if it's not wrapped around something dead. And it sets you up for one of those Billy Badass moments where you snip open perfectly-tied twine to reveal some sort of fancy culinary delight, thrilling your guests or your cats or whatever.

Which is why I made little sorority-girl squealy sounds when tofu666's recipe and beyootiful photos for Tournedos d'Seitan with Poached Figs showed up in my inbox. This is not only a gorgeous, impressive dish, but it also falls neatly into the "really not that complicated" category; if you have a pressure cooker and can manage a fairly simple reduction, then you can piss your mother-in-law off by outdoing her with this at your next family gathering. Although, I'd also be interested to develop ways to make this without a pressure cooker, since not everyone has one (note to self: update wedding registry).

Tournedos d'Seitan with Poached Figs

This is our contribution to the Hezbollah Tofu project: a vegan version of Tony Bourdain's "Tournedos d'Agneau with Fig Confit" p. 155 (picture on p. 157) from the "Les Halles" cookbook.

First, we made the seitan -- a combo of Ron Pickarski (pressure cooking method, ginger/kombu flavored broth), Isa (flavorings), and a couple of our ideas (ratio of gluten/water, jelly roll style). We rolled it into two 6" x 9" sheets, then rolled it up the long way (jelly-roll style), and pressure cooked it for 45 minutes. We also made "medallion" sized pieces as well.

We made veg stock earlier in the day and used some of it to make a little "semi" demi-glace -- brown roux + mirepoix + stock + reducing = sauce espagnole. Take that plus a little maderia (or red wine) and reduce it again.

The seitan after the pressure cooker was cut to size, wrapped with twine to keep the roll secure -- all though it really didn't need it, it was more for show...

The seitan was seared on all sides, then baked in the oven (375F for 15 minutes) finally rolled around in the sauce and plated with the poached figs (in the same banyuls that is also used for the sauce -- a sweet fortified red wine, or you could use port). Served along with braised carrots and tarragon as is the picture in the book.
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tofu666's blog has more photos of the process, including that cute little twined-up seitan.

Creme Brulee/Creme Caramel: Because We're That Badass.

For someone whose dodgy culinary skills fall, without fail, back upon the globulous bosom of dairy products, one might venture to say that successfully veganizing a dairy-heavy dish would be the ultimate slap in the nicotine-stained face. Bonus ass-kicking points for veganizing a dish that also contains more eggs than an entire colony of ill-treated hens could produce in a decade.

Which brings us to creme brulee and its sticky-sweet cousin, creme caramel (pictured above), the sugary little cholesterol bombs of French cuisine and, as far as I can see, the last wobbly arguments for the use of eggs and dairy in said cuisine. And since tearing down wobbly arguments is what this splinter faction is all about, I was struck speechless with admiration when Chipmunk of the PPK ventured bravely into the land of creme brulee, torch in hand, ready to bring us the first recipe in Hezobllah Tofu that does indeed contain tofu.

This is also a work in progress, a little toddler of a recipe, if you will, so your comments and kitchens are greatly needed. I'd say Bourdain can kiss our asses an extra time for this one, but I just noticed that the original recipe calls for ten egg yolks and a quart of heavy cream, so I imagine Tony is in the throes of a triple-bypass by now.

Creme Brulee: A Work in Progress

Chipmunk says:

Cube half a block of silken tofu (I used the vacuum packed kind) and cover in boiling water
Blend with 100g sugar (roughly 3 oz - I goofed while converting the measurements, this is twice the amount in the recipe), 1 teaspoon soft dark sugar and half a cup oil (I'd go lower on both next time).

For version 1, I heated a few tablespoons of soy milk with a pinch of turmeric (for colour), a pinch of salt and half a teaspoon vanilla bean paste, mixed in the tofu mixture and a generous tablespoon of arrowroot and heated it through. I then baked it at 300 degrees with the moulds immersed in water until it looked done. Sprinkled on some white and brown sugar and caramelised the tops under the broiler (with limited success). This one came out eggy but a little crumbly, and so...

Version 2: Made the tofu mixture as stated above, but using slightly less sugar. Heated maybe a tablespoon of agar (I'd probably go higher next time) with a little water until the agar melted. Added the pinch of turmeric and salt, stirred in the tofu mixture with half a teaspoon vanilla, heated through (being careful not to let too much moisture evaporate, otherwise the emulsion will split!), poured into the moulds and left to set. Then I melted some sugar in a pan and let it caramelise and let the crème slide onto a plate. When it was dark enough, I added a little water - just enough to make it pourable but still syrupy - and spooned it over the top (Normally, you would pour the syrup into the mould before the custard goes in). This one wasn't quite firm enough either.

So to sum up possible adjustments, my lack of equipment notwithstanding: Less sugar, less fat (possibly something a little more solid too, since that quart of cream is bound to have some saturated fat going on), more agar and possibly some arrowroot. I intentionally didn't use any extra flavourings and aimed for a fairly "plain" custard, which didn't taste like tofu, luckily. I wonder what a little black salt would do. There's probably multiple ways of doing this.

Clafoutis!

The honor of first person to submit something for Hezbollah Tofu (other than me) goes to Gwenlet of the PPK, who went where no vegan has (probably) gone before and veganized Les Halles clafoutis. This is a classic French dessert, but the batter's resemblance to pancake batter and the fact that fruit is involved means that you could probably get away with eating it for brunch. Which would probably kind of piss a French food purist off. And that makes it even better.

Gwenlet notes that, in order to maintain the pretty color of the batter without infiltrating it with cherry juice, you should pour the cherries into the pie plate first and then pour the custard on top of that. I'm totally making this thing as soon as I can steal a pie plate from my mother (how do I not own a pie plate? Seriously?), so I'll add comments too when I'm done eating it like it owes me money.

Cafoutis that Kicks Bourdain's Ass

1 lb. black cherries, pitted (Gwenlet used frozen, rinsed under warm water for a while)
3 oz. kirsh (or any sweet, fruity liquer—Gwenlet used cassis)
1 Tbsp. Earth Balance
1/3 C demerara sugar
¼ C chickpea flour
1 Tbsp. all-purpose flour
¼ C soy creamer (vanilla)
½ block of silken tofu
½ tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. vanilla extract
2+ Tbsp. powdered sugar

Toss the cherries (rinse them first, if you’re using frozen) with the cassis, and let them soak for an hour. Preheat the oven to 375. Grease a 9-in round pie plate with the Earth Balance, sprinkle it with a little of the powdered sugar, and chill it in the refrigerator.

Sift together the chickpea flour, flour, and baking powder; set aside.

Using a blender or hand blender, blend together the tofu, sugar, vanilla, and soy creamer until very smooth. Mix in the baking powder and chickpea flour so it’s smooth, but don’t overwork it.

Drain the cherries, and pour them into your prepared pie plate. Pour the custard over the top, and shift it back and forth gently until the surface is smooth.

Bake until the edges are golden brown and the center looks set (25-30 minutes) and a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Dust the top with the powdered sugar, and serve.
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See? That wasn't hard either. I'm beginning to think that this whole French-cuisine-is-so-delicate-and-difficult bullshit that Bourdain perpetuates is just another means of stroking his grisly ego. (Typing that last sentence made me throw up in my mouth a little.) Regardless, enjoy!

Portabellas a la Normande

Even when I was an omnivore and regularly watched the Food Network with great interest (two things that are perhaps as revealingly embarrassing to admit to as my adolescent collection of Jonathon Taylor Thomas posters), the combination of seafood and dairy flummoxed me. Taking two such easily ruined flavors and textures, each frequently dubious in its own right, and throwing them together over cream-congealing, skin-forming heat always felt like a risk not worth taking.

Clearly, though, Asshat Bourdain does not share my feelings on the subject, as evidenced by the cup of heavy cream and 6 pounds--yes, 6 pounds--of mussels in the Les Halles recipe for Moules a la Normande. I mean, seriously, dude. The half an apple you throw in there as an afterthought is just offended by this shit. And, I've said it before but it bears repeating: too much reliance on globulous dairy and greasy meat or seafood just reveals too little faith in the flavorful strength of the recipe itself. Like the host of a low-budget reality TV show, Bourdain goes straight for the culinary gross-out shock factor. And that ain't cooking.

Which is why I edited the aforementioned recipe into Portabellas a la Normande, tweaking it and improving it and removing the potential for it to be swallowed whole by a bikini-clad game show contestant in the hopes of winning $50,000 from The CW (are they still calling it that? Back in my day it was UPN.).

Anyway, a few key points: first, this is a deceptively easy, one-pot dish that takes less than an hour to prepare but will still impress the holy hell out of any haters you've been wanting to show up. Second, the important changes I made here (besides replacing the ass-ton of mussels with 4 portabella caps) were to increase the 1/2 apple to a whole apple for added substance and texture, therefore replace the apple brandy with cream sherry (to prevent over-apple-ation and also because I had good-quality cream sherry on hand and didn't feel like putting pants on and going to the ABC store), use a combination of soy creamer and coconut milk in place of the heavy cream (which gave it that "this is awesome but I have no idea what this flavor is" factor), and simmer it uncovered rather than boiling it covered. That last change produced a much-reduced, thick, rich, almost syrupy mixture rather than a bunch of stinky mussels floating in watered-down cream. Which is exactly the quality of change that we're going for.

Portabellas a la Normande

4 T non-hydrogenated margarine
1 shallot, thinly sliced
7 shiitake mushrooms, thinly sliced
1 apple, diced (I used a Pink Lady apple)
3 ounces cream sherry
3/4 cup soy creamer
1/4 cup coconut milk
salt and pepper to taste
4 portabella caps


Melt the butter over medium heat in a large pan or pot. Add the shallot, and cook until soft, about 3 minutes.

Add the mushrooms and apple, and cook for another 5 minutes. Add the sherry and stir in the creamer and coconut milk. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Bring to boil, add portabella caps, and reduce to a simmer.

Simmer about 7 minutes, flipping the portabella caps periodically so that they cook evenly on both sides. Serve 2 mushroom caps per plate, surrounded and smothered by the rest of the apple-y shallot-y saucy goodness, over rice or with bread on the side, whichever you'd prefer (we had ours with crusty French bread with herbed non-dairy cream cheese).

Les Halles Onion Soup; veganized, de-suckified.

There are quite a few Bourdain soups that could be easily veganized just by switching from chicken/beef/veal stock to vegetable stock, but I wanted to start out with one that would be a little bit more involved, mainly to demonstrate that if a rank amateur like me can manage the veganization of a veal-bacon-cheese dish, anyone can do it.

So the first official recipe undertaken by Hezbollah Tofu is Les Halles' onion soup. The original is already online here if you want to take a look. This recipe calls for chicken stock, but I'm pretty sure Les Halles uses beef or veal. Whatever, we can do better.

I started out by using Earth Balance and vegetable stock where butter and meat stock appear in the original (and I halved the recipe for HT, because unless you have a family of 6 or are throwing a dinner party, you probably do not need 2 quarts of soup--but if you do just double it). I also used dry sherry instead of port wine, because I thought the drier, sharper, earthier flavor would be a better match for the flavors involved, especially since we are not using bacon.

Now, as to the aforementioned bacon, tempeh bacon crossed my mind but I sort of doubted its ability to hold together well and retain its flavor and texture through nearly an hour of simmering. If anyone wants to try it, let me know how it works. I decided to use dried black trumpet mushrooms instead, blanched in a vegetable stock/sherry mixture for a few minutes before they were added to the soup. It's worth noting that the mushroom addition here falls into the "improvement" category of Hezbollah Tofu. They're not even trying to be bacon, they're just replacing the oh-so-played-out greasy meat ingredient with something that adds a far more interesting texture, a fantastic infusion of delicate flavor, and an ability to incorporate well into the soup rather than sinking to the bottom like a fatty pork submarine.

The gruyere recipe I used is an adaptation of an adaptation from The Uncheese Cookbook. It really didn't leave much to be desired at all; it was smooth, creamy, had a strong "stinky" flavor, and floated in the soup in oozy, cheesy chunks, just as it should. I added crushed, toasted almonds for extra texture and broil-ability.

Without further adieu, here's the first in what will hopefully be a long and successful series of veganized Les Halles recipes. As with everything here, please feel free to test it, add your own improvements, photograph it (especially if your camera sucks less than mine), and send it in for posting.

Les Halles Onion Soup (only better)

For the mushrooms:
1 oz dried black trumpet mushrooms
Blanch 4 minutes in 1 1/2 cups of boiling vegetable stock plus 1 oz dry sherry; drain and retain liquid.

For the soup:
3 1/2 ounces Earth Balance (or other non-hydrogenated margarine)
4 large onions, thinly sliced
1 oz dry sherry
1 oz balsamic vinegar
1 quart (4 cups) vegetable stock
bouquet garni (this is a fantsypants French term for a bunch of fresh herbs tied together with leek leaves or twine; I used sage, thyme, bay leaves, and oregano.)

For the croutons and gruyere:
8 baguette slices, brushed with olive oil and toasted until hard and crisp
1 cup water
2 t of the retained mushroom liquid
2 T lemon juice
2 T tahini
2 T nutritional yeast
2 T quick oats
4 t cornstarch
2 t onion powder
1/4 t salt
1/2 cup crushed almonds, lightly toasted

Melt the EB over medium heat. Add the sliced onions and cook for about 25 minutes, stirring regularly, until they start to smell a little scorched and are beginning to brown uniformly.

Increase the heat to medium-high, stir in the sherry and vinegar and the drained mushrooms, and cook for 2-3 minutes. Add the stock and garni, and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer 45 minutes.

While that's simmering, get your cheesy croutons ready. Combine all of the gruyere ingredients except the toasted baguette slices and almonds in a food processor and process until smooth. Transfer this liquid to a small saucepan and heat over medium heat, stirring constantly, until thick (it won't take long, despite the fact that it will be absolutely watery liquid when you pour it out of the food processor).

Preheat your oven's broiler. Ladle the soup into oven-proof containers (soup crocks would be preferable, though all I had was a small Pyrex dish and everything worked out fine). Spread a layer of gruyere on each crouton (don't be stingy) and float a couple of croutons on each serving of soup (you can also plop some extra spoonfuls of gruyere into the soup if you're feeling particularly brazen). Sprinkle the toasted crushed almonds over the top of everything, and stick the whole business under the broiler for a few minutes, checking it regularly, until the soup is bubbly and the almonds are roasty-toasty and even scorched in a few places.

Serve immediately, attempting to say "Anthony Bourdain is my little bitch" between bites.

Taking stock and making stock

Before we begin our first solid round of Bourdain ass-whooping, a hearty thank you is in order to commenters here and on the PPK; whether you've stepped up to offer recipe-veganization contributions or just expressed support, every little bit helps.

Now, on to veggie stock!

Like many chefs/cooks/asshats of the French persuasion, Bourdain starts nearly every recipe off with copious amounts of stock, usually beef or veal stock. And while he's fond of extolling the culinary virtues of said stock--indeed, he has convinced himself that he would wither up and die without it, and must be suffering a shortage because the withering-up stage seems to have already commenced--the fact remains that meat stocks are one-note wonders. Braise, broil, steam and simmer all you want, you're still left with only the oily essence of beef. Add herbs and vegetables to improve upon it, and you just make it all the more clear that the best way to produce a good stock is to cut out the dead middleman and learn to make a decent vegetable stock.

And I absolutely do not mean the yellow-orange, anemic vegetable "broth" you can buy in the aseptic cartons at the grocery store, handy though it may be for everyday cooking. French food requires a dark, deep, flavorful stock, and good food in general requires a depth of flavor and a wide range of different nuanced notes that a quart of veal stock, no matter how much Anthony loves it, just cannot come close to. (The development of truly ass-kicking stock is especially important since word on the metaphorical street is that bazu of Where's the Revolution is brave and bold enough to consider taking on vegan demi-glace--which would probably forever change the world as we know it.)

This was my first attempt at a dark, rich vegetable stock, shown on the right. On the left is a bowl of pre-made grocery-store vegetable broth. See the difference?
I relied mostly on dark leafy greens and portabella mushrooms for the dark color and earthier flavors, and added lemon slices and butternut squash for some sweeter, brighter notes. This particular incarnation of veggie stock contains 2 medium onions, skin-on and roughly chopped, 2 sliced portabella caps, a big handful each of parsley, kale, and spinach, 2 peeled and chopped carrots, 1 cup of cubed butternut squash, 1/4 of a lemon with the rind intact, 5 cloves of garlic, crushed, and a few springs of fresh rosemary and thyme, covered with water and simmered for 2 hours. Before the simmering, just to give you an idea of how veggie-tastic it is, it looked like this:

It turned out pretty tasty, and definitely dark and rich enough to take on some of Les Halles' beef-centric recipes, but I think it needs a little bit more bitterness and more strong flavors.

What do you think? Brussels sprouts? Higher ratio of dark greens? (I'm killing myself trying not to make a pun involving telling you to take stock of the situation.)

This stock will shortly become part of a new and improved version of Les Halles French onion soup, and don't think I'm pussying out and skipping the torched gruyere detail. The key difference, besides the conspicuous absence of veal stock, is that I won't be lighting a Marlboro on the butane torch (P.S., Anthony, way to smoke the same brand as Carrie Bradshaw) and rattling something about the greasy soul of liquid beef into a Travel Channel camera.