Today is my seventh day of work (well 6 technically, but I was home sick the 7th day). I work 12 hour shifts, so every once in a while I feel the need to take a night off in the kitchen. Tonight will be that night.
Last night some of my lovely friends sent me some great dishes to veganize. I am going to take a little time to soak in the recipes and contemplate how I can convert them into compassionate cuisine while maintaining their essence. There are a couple of very challenging conversions coming your way soon. They won't be challenging for you, dear readers, but they will be challenging for me to convert. I start my days off tomorrow, so I will have more time to play around in the kitchen. This makes me excessively happy.
For some reason, I have been haunted by memories of my estranged father's odd eating/driking habits the last couple of days. I haven't spoken to him in over 20 years, so I'm not sure why he keeps popping into my head. He was a very eccentric man with very odd habits, food related and otherwise. I remember getting grossed out by some of his favorites; beet greens with vinegar, pork chops thickly topped with sage (I mean thickly!), baked potato flattened and slathered with sour cream and completely covered with paprika - this one actually sounds good at this point in life.
He would not drink milk on its own...which at the time seemed so very odd. He would, however drink it mixed with rootbeer. He had a very specific proportion that he would mix up in the milk jug. He'd wait until the milk in the gallon jug was at the magical level. Then he would add rootbeer slowly to the top. This milky foamy concoction was ALWAYS in our fridge. He usually had it in a specific glass and NEVER had ice in it.
I'm going to show my age here, but back then we had a drive in (similar to Sonic) called Dog N' Suds. It was only open in the summer. They had the most delicious rootbeer. It was creamy and full of spicy rootbeer goodness. It probably tasted even better because you could not get it year 'round. We'd get the platic barrel shaped jugs and stash them in the fridge. I was a notoriously picky eater/drinker as a child. It was so good, even I would indulge in a frosty mug here and there.
Dear Ol' Dad's Rootbeer
3/4 cup cold rootbeer
1/4 cup cold almond milk
Chilled mug.
Pour in chilled mug. Let sit for a couple of minutes to let the chilled mug do it's thing. Do not add ice! Enjoy.
I must need daddy therapy today because now that I have written this, many more kitchen/dad/childhood memories are flooding into my memory. My dad was a tinkerer. He could fix and build a wild array of things. One of the things he created for my mom was this incredible chopping blade. I wish I had one today! My mom had this awesome wood bowl. It was probably about 4 inches deep and about 14 inches wide. Our garage was a crazy machineshop where many of his inventions and creations came to life. He took to the task of making a 1/2 circle chopping blade that fit perfectly into the bowl. I remember the excitement I felt the first time my mom let me chop the celery and onions for her potato salad. (which I will post my veganized version of later now that I am thinking of it). That thing rocked! He kept it razor sharp by using the grinder in our garage. OK, If someone took my Globals to a grinder, they would end up with it in their leg! But these were simpler times.
I have to thank him for giving me my first cooking experience (warning-it was not vegan). As I mentioned he was eccentric and very non-traditional. He worked nights and my mom worked days. When I was around 5 years old, he decided he was hungry and asked me to make him something to eat. Now most normal, responsible parents would not let their small child loose unsupervised in the kitchen with a gas stove. I have to admit, at that point in life, I would go to great lengths to make him think I could do things that may have been a bit out of my range so that I could get some of his attention. He was more than a little detached.
I marched to the kitchen and promptly set about the task of making him lunch. Things started out pretty well. I knew where the pans and spatula were. I grabbed the eggs and butter out of the fridge and got to work. I hopped up on one of our burnt orange vinyl chairs (this was 1970 folks) so that I could reach the stove. I figured out how to turn on the stove. Heated up the pan and started cooking him what were to be eggs over easy. Of course as a beginner I promtly cracked the yolks when I flipped them, but no biggie they were still edible. I turned the oven off and hopped off the chair. Here is where things went a little south. As a vertically challenged 4 .9 year old I wasn't sure where to put the hot pan while I scooped the eggs out and put them on the plate. Hmmmm. I decided the chair was the perfect working height for me. As I set the pan on the chair, I realized this might be a bad idea as the smell of burning vinyl hit my nose. When Mom got home she was furious...thankfully at my dad for leaving me unattended in the kitchen, not for ruining that hip chair. My dad seemed to really like the eggs by the way....and so my lifelong love of cooking began.
Last night some of my lovely friends sent me some great dishes to veganize. I am going to take a little time to soak in the recipes and contemplate how I can convert them into compassionate cuisine while maintaining their essence. There are a couple of very challenging conversions coming your way soon. They won't be challenging for you, dear readers, but they will be challenging for me to convert. I start my days off tomorrow, so I will have more time to play around in the kitchen. This makes me excessively happy.
For some reason, I have been haunted by memories of my estranged father's odd eating/driking habits the last couple of days. I haven't spoken to him in over 20 years, so I'm not sure why he keeps popping into my head. He was a very eccentric man with very odd habits, food related and otherwise. I remember getting grossed out by some of his favorites; beet greens with vinegar, pork chops thickly topped with sage (I mean thickly!), baked potato flattened and slathered with sour cream and completely covered with paprika - this one actually sounds good at this point in life.
He would not drink milk on its own...which at the time seemed so very odd. He would, however drink it mixed with rootbeer. He had a very specific proportion that he would mix up in the milk jug. He'd wait until the milk in the gallon jug was at the magical level. Then he would add rootbeer slowly to the top. This milky foamy concoction was ALWAYS in our fridge. He usually had it in a specific glass and NEVER had ice in it.
I'm going to show my age here, but back then we had a drive in (similar to Sonic) called Dog N' Suds. It was only open in the summer. They had the most delicious rootbeer. It was creamy and full of spicy rootbeer goodness. It probably tasted even better because you could not get it year 'round. We'd get the platic barrel shaped jugs and stash them in the fridge. I was a notoriously picky eater/drinker as a child. It was so good, even I would indulge in a frosty mug here and there.
Dear Ol' Dad's Rootbeer
3/4 cup cold rootbeer
1/4 cup cold almond milk
Chilled mug.
Pour in chilled mug. Let sit for a couple of minutes to let the chilled mug do it's thing. Do not add ice! Enjoy.
I must need daddy therapy today because now that I have written this, many more kitchen/dad/childhood memories are flooding into my memory. My dad was a tinkerer. He could fix and build a wild array of things. One of the things he created for my mom was this incredible chopping blade. I wish I had one today! My mom had this awesome wood bowl. It was probably about 4 inches deep and about 14 inches wide. Our garage was a crazy machineshop where many of his inventions and creations came to life. He took to the task of making a 1/2 circle chopping blade that fit perfectly into the bowl. I remember the excitement I felt the first time my mom let me chop the celery and onions for her potato salad. (which I will post my veganized version of later now that I am thinking of it). That thing rocked! He kept it razor sharp by using the grinder in our garage. OK, If someone took my Globals to a grinder, they would end up with it in their leg! But these were simpler times.
I have to thank him for giving me my first cooking experience (warning-it was not vegan). As I mentioned he was eccentric and very non-traditional. He worked nights and my mom worked days. When I was around 5 years old, he decided he was hungry and asked me to make him something to eat. Now most normal, responsible parents would not let their small child loose unsupervised in the kitchen with a gas stove. I have to admit, at that point in life, I would go to great lengths to make him think I could do things that may have been a bit out of my range so that I could get some of his attention. He was more than a little detached.
I marched to the kitchen and promptly set about the task of making him lunch. Things started out pretty well. I knew where the pans and spatula were. I grabbed the eggs and butter out of the fridge and got to work. I hopped up on one of our burnt orange vinyl chairs (this was 1970 folks) so that I could reach the stove. I figured out how to turn on the stove. Heated up the pan and started cooking him what were to be eggs over easy. Of course as a beginner I promtly cracked the yolks when I flipped them, but no biggie they were still edible. I turned the oven off and hopped off the chair. Here is where things went a little south. As a vertically challenged 4 .9 year old I wasn't sure where to put the hot pan while I scooped the eggs out and put them on the plate. Hmmmm. I decided the chair was the perfect working height for me. As I set the pan on the chair, I realized this might be a bad idea as the smell of burning vinyl hit my nose. When Mom got home she was furious...thankfully at my dad for leaving me unattended in the kitchen, not for ruining that hip chair. My dad seemed to really like the eggs by the way....and so my lifelong love of cooking began.
I think our fathers might be food twins. My dad drank "poor man's root beer floats" as he called them, too. He also liked bagels with cream cheese, strawberry jelly, and onion soup mix. And baked potatoes drenched with Maggi seasoning.
ReplyDeleteOMG - I remember each of those crazy culinary creations of "Dave's". The photo from the Dog 'n Suds was a real walk down memory lane! That was the best root beer ever -that is for sure. I almost forgot about the orange vinyl chairs - HEEHEE! He was a quirky guy for sure. I also remember using the wooden bowl with the chopper he made - it was the bomb for sure. Mom usually didn't have any problem finding a volunteer to do the chopping 'cuz it was so fun - I remember doing a lot of nuts for her and of course the veggies for potato salad & for the crazy spaghetti sauce!
ReplyDeleteOMG - I remember each of those crazy culinary creations of "Dave's". The photo from the Dog 'n Suds was a real walk down memory lane! That was the best root beer ever -that is for sure. I almost forgot about the orange vinyl chairs - HEEHEE! He was a quirky guy for sure. I also remember using the wooden bowl with the chopper he made - it was the bomb for sure. Mom usually didn't have any problem finding a volunteer to do the chopping 'cuz it was so fun - I remember doing a lot of nuts for her and of course the veggies for potato salad & for the crazy spaghetti sauce!
ReplyDelete