Friday's Find: Beer-Glazed Black Beans and a PHENOMENAL Vegetarian Cookbook!

I know I'm a couple of days early, but I literally couldn't contain my excitement for another second. There are no words to describe my everlasting love for my shiny, green new vegetarian cookbook- and let me tell you, does it ever live up to its name. How to Cook Everything Vegetarian is almost 1,000 pages long, chock full of every little piece of advice for cooks ranging from novice (me) to pro (me someday in the distant future... hopefully). He answers questions like: What is quinoa? How do you choose a good onion at the store? What in the world do you do with leeks anyway?

My first dish- well, actually, it was a side for an impromptu quesadilla recipe I made up with zucchini, diced tomatoes and onions, and the ever-important cheese- was Beer-Glazed Black Beans. This was very exciting to me for three reasons: 1. I love cooking with beans because they are a good source of protein; 2. Um this recipe calls for beer. Of course that's the first thing I'm going to try out from this book. 3. I still have no idea what to do with tofu yet.

These beans were a vegetarian's answer to old-fashioned maple baked beans. They were sweet and hearty and complete with onion and garlic (because everyone knows that NOTHING is complete without onion and garlic). We used Sam Adams Boston Ale for this recipe, and the author, Mark Bittman, gives his readers the freedom to use any kind they like, as different beers will yield dramatically different flavors.

Beer-Glazed Black Beans

Makes: 4 servings

Time: 20 minutes with cooked beans

2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

1 onion, chopped

1 tablespoon minced garlic

1 cup beer

3 cups cooked or canned black beans, drained but still moist, liquid reserved

1 tablespoon chili powder

1 tablespoon honey, or for a vegan version, molasses

Salt and freshly ground pepper

1. Put the oil in a skillet over medium-high heat. When hot, add the onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until soft, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic, cook for about a minute, then add the beer, beans, chili powder, honey, and a good sprinkling of salt and pepper.

2. Bring to a steady bubble and cook until the liquid is slightly reduced and thickened, about 15 minutes. Taste and adjust the seasoning. Serve hot or store, covered, in the refrigerator for up to 3 days.

P.S. I HIGHLY recommend using Williams-Sonoma's Vegetable Chop and Measure. I was able to slice and dice the onions AND mince the garlic using this puppy. Huge time-saver!

My current obsession with food.

I swear to you, I can't surf around 101 Cookbooks or Smitten Kitchen without uttering the words, "ExCUSE me?!" at least seven times per visit when I look at their recipes. Because who wants to eat Amazing Black Bean Brownies... really? I should be offended by this. And then I totally want to eat them. Why this is appetizing is beyond me. But I am sure that blogs like this inspire me to spend as much time in my kitchen as is humanly possible.

Also, when I walk into stores like Williams Sonoma or Sur La Table I can't help but get a thrill at the thought of a huge kitchen filled with every cooking gadget under the sun, and me inventing culinary delights so ethereal that the heavens open wide and the angels sing upon my creations.

I think the world might actually be coming to an end. I want to do things like sew, cook, and plant a garden. When did I become a vegetarian, chocolate-obsessed, weird brownie-baking, lentil-consuming, Martha Stewart wannabe who actually wants to eat the aforementioned ingredients... all in the same recipe?

...

On another note, I made Cody eat a whole steamed artichoke the other night, and it was *nearly* disastrous. Not quite cooked all the way through, but not entirely a loss for a first-timer. All in all, a thoroughly weird experience. When he got to the part where he had to slice and dice his way through the furry mess to the heart, he sat there with a very concerned look on his face, staring at what was left of the artichoke, and said, "I think I just ate a wombat."

Current fave vegetarian recipe.

Even my husband loves this one! Adapted from Betty Crocker's Healthy New Choices, anyone who ever convinced themselves that vegetarian cuisine was bland should try this recipe. We used garlic mashed potatoes and substituted fresh Monterey Jack cheese for the Parmesan.

Vegetarian Shepherd's Pie

For the mashed potatoes, either use leftovers, prepare instant mashed potatoes or pick up mashed potatoes from the deli. Looking for an easy way to put the potatoes on top of this dish? A small ice-cream scoop is great for spooning on the warm mashed potatoes.

2 cans (15 or 16 ounces each) kidney beans, rinsed and drained

1 jar (16 ounces) thick-and-chunky salsa (2 cups)

1 cup frozen whole-kernel corn

1 medium carrot, chopped (1/2 cup)

1 1/2 cups warm mashed potatoes

2 tablespoons Parmesan cheese

Chopped fresh chives or parsley, if desired

Heat beans, salsa, corn and carrot to boiling in 10-inch nonstick skillet; reduce heat to low. Cover and simmer about 15 minutes or until carrot is tender.

Spoon mashed potatoes onto bean mizture around edge of skillet. Cover and simmer 5 minutes. Sprinkle with cheese and chives.

Viola! It's easy, delicious AND nutritious and sure to be a crowd-pleaser.

Vegetarian Challenge: Update 1

Well... It's officially been three days since my random decision to be a vegetarian (for the month of April, anyway), and I must admit that it's much easier than I expected. Believe it or not, this once self-professed carnivore can actually see herself doing this long-term, although I can't say I will be perfect at it (I do, after all, have some of my-favorite-food-on-the-planet that made its annual journey from Iceland sitting in the freezer waiting for me to devour it. You may want to vomit right now, but I think it's pretty irresistible. Doing everything I can to hold myself back until May 1).

I've started reading all kinds of vegetarian know-how books, and I've been a lot more conscious of what I'm eating. The thought of eating meat catches me a bit off guard now, and buying eggs and drinking milk that are not labeled "hormone-free" or "free-range" just doesn't feel right anymore. These particular items are a little more costly than one on a normal coupon-binge would hope, but in light of this test, it is worth it to me now. And yes, it is in the name of compassion for animals. How non-ultra-conservative and uber-hippie of me (don't panic, Dad. I have not gone off the deep end).

I've learned a couple of things about cheese, my more acceptable other-favorite-food-on-the-planet, and that is that it is not always vegetarian. Apparently some cheese makers use rennet to coagulate the cheese, and it is not often clearly labeled for those of us who don't want to eat animal products. The good news is that some rennet is animal and some is not, and though it may be one or the other, sometimes it is not specified as one or the other. For instance, tonight we are going to our dear friends Jason and Jessica's house for a fondue night in celebration of their baby news, and the swiss fondue we are bringing has... drumroll please... RENNET in it. Despite this knowledge, I am going to feign ignorance and pretend like it is VEGETABLE RENNET and not the other kind.

I think you should pretend that too.

When a Carnivore Contemplates Vegetarianism.

I have always considered myself to be a full-fledged carnivore. A meat-and-potatoes girl, if you will. I grew up eating hot dogs, ribs, dried fish (an Icelandic delicacy... and my favorite food on the planet. Go ahead. Gag. I'm used to it.), filet mignon, super crispy bacon... pretty much everything, with the exception of chicken. We only ate that once in a blue moon. And I have an uncanny aversion to chicken because every time I eat it, I have yellow, slimy chicken fat, or cartilage, or veins, or some other nast-a-rama on my plate that I have no desire to put in my mouth, but usually do when it's too late. This usually results in chewed-up meat spit out on my plate that I'm sure no one wants to look at, and me running to the nearest toilet, gagging the same way you would if your nose ever encountered my-favorite-food-on-the-planet.

On the flip side, I never, ever liked salads. Ever. Lettuce bored me to tears. If you set a salad in front of me (maybe with the exception of a Cobb or a taco salad) and expected me to eat it for lunch or dinner, I would silently contemplate in my mind if you were crazy, and if you actually expect that to satisfy my current appetite for breaded Icelandic cod and carmelized potatoes, or a BBQ beef sandwich, or a gyro. If I'm in a good mood and feel like being nice to you, I'll eat it, and then secretly eat something else later. If not, I'll scoff at the absurdity of salad for dinner, and then tell you that I'm gonna go eat some real food. (Hi Mom! I love you! And your salads!)

But lately, my cravings have been taking a very strange turn. I think I have had so many bad meat experiences that extend even beyond my run-ins with chicken that I'm starting to fear eating meat, period. You have to admit, there is nothing worse than eating a piece of savory brisket, biting down and discovering that ALAS! That was not meat, but pure, unadulterated fat that is squishing around in your mouth, and who the hell doesn't cut this #$&%! off the meat before they serve it to humans?! THERE IS NOTHING WORSE THAN THIS.

Of course, my husband would tell you that he is married to the pickiest eater alive (who also eats dried fish). He deliberately refuses to make choices on what we eat, even if I explicitly tell him to go ahead and make the decision, because there is a 95.78% chance that I will either not like it or want something else. If confronted with a plain ol' piece of meat, I will trim every miniscule trace of fat or anything strange-looking from it, no matter how long it takes, an inherited trait that is consistently attributed to my dad by my mom (watching the two of us eat together can be quite entertaining). But oh, man, the looks Cody gets when I watch some of the things he voluntarily puts in his mouth. I have a zero-tolerance policy for such madness.

So on that note, recently when I go out, I find myself ordering things like tofu, or veggie sandwiches, or anything with beans and cheese (there are no words to describe my everlasting love for cheese). And I start to wonder if I am unconsciously becoming a vegetarian. Like if it's happening to me and I have no control over it. Then I start to think about things like well-done bacon, or my beloved dried fish, or Ruth's Chris Steak House, and I think, "No... no, no, no. That could never happen to me. I am a self-professed carnivore." But then I think about how much I love animals, and how sometimes when I eat ground beef there are bones or cartilage in it, and I get grossed out. That thought is usually followed by a ponderance of whether it is easy to eat entirely vegetarian when in restaurants, or planning a menu, or eating at the home of a friend or family member. My BFF Amber is a vegetarian, and the brilliance otherwise known as Stacy recently made the switch, so I know that it's a bit of a lifestyle overhaul. Could I really make those kinds of adjustments?

Amber suggested that I try it for a month. So I'm gonna attempt it. I don't know how long I will last given that I have not won any awards lately for self-discipline, but for the month of April, I will make a noble effort to eat meat-free meals. If anyone can make any good recommendations for vegetarian cookbooks, shoot them my way.

I'll be reporting on my progress, successes and failures over the next month. No. 2, over and out.