This is my current favorite recipe. It's perfect for late fall/early winter, and because it's high in protein and good carbs, it works as a post-run recovery meal OR as a night-before-a-long-run carb load.
Potato-Leek-Broccoli-Asparagus Soup
Ingredients:
Vegetables
-4 Red Bliss Potatoes
-1/4 lb asparagus
-2 leeks
-1 broccoli crown
-1/2 habanero pepper (if you're into that)
-4 cloves of garlic
-1 lb soft tofu
Seasonings
-Garlic Salt
-Cajun Seasoning
-Salt
-Pepper
-White pepper
-Cayenne pepper
-Bay leaf
-Mustard Powder
Other
-1/2 tbsp butter
-Vegetable Stock (see first blog entry to make your own, or just buy a carton)
-2 oz. cheddar cheese, grated
-8 oz. beer, preferably an ale
-4 oz. half & half
Dice all vegetables except tofu. The smaller you make the pieces, the better. Put them in a stockpot with the butter over medium heat. Mix together. Add salt & pepper to taste. Add a splash of stock. Stir and cover.
Reduce heat. Cook covered, but stir and add a little more stock every 5 minutes. Make sure there's always some visible liquid for the vegetables to simmer in.
When the potatoes are soft, add all other seasonings except Bay Leaf. Use a potato masher to blend everything in the pot and add stock until everything is soft and homogenized. It should be about the consistency of thin mashed potatoes.
Pour the entire pot into a blender and run on pulse. Or, ideally, use an immersion blender right in the pot. If it's resistant to blending, add stock a little bit at a time. Break up the tofu and add gradually until it's integrated into the mixture.
Return mixture to stockpot on medium heat. Add 1/2 cup stock and stir. Add cream and cheddar. Cook to a simmer, stirring constantly. If soup looks too thick, add stock. Finally, add the beer and bay leaf. Bring back to a simmer.
Serve with bread. If you can find quinoa-flax bread at Whole Foods, I highly recommend that.
Makes about 8 servings. Now, let's take a quick look at the nutrition breakdown. This soup tastes incredibly rich and satisfying, but that's because it's well-seasoned and because potatoes are inherently filling. Though it might seem to TASTE indulgent, keep in mind that each serving includes only:
1/16 of a tablespoon of butter
1/4 oz. of cheddar
1 oz. of beer (i.e. 1/12 of a standard bottle)
1/2 oz. of half & half
Everything else is pure vegetables, soy protein, and antioxidant-rich spices. This is, in other words, about as healthy as dinner gets.
Also, it can be portioned out and frozen for future meals.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Vermont City Marathon
As far as the "meatless" part of this blog goes, a small but persistent nagging voice in the back of my head has, for the past several weeks, questioned my ability to run a 26.2 mile race without the benefit of animal-flesh protein. I'm pleased to report that it can be done. No problem.
Two Sundays ago I ran my first full: The Vermont City Marathon. I can't really put into words the euphoric, floating feeling that I've been experiencing ever since, in spite of the lingering soreness in my calves, hamstrings, quadriceps, adductors, glutes, and ankles.
At the risk of being crass, I found that it's kind of like losing your virginity. You build it up to be the Holy Grail of your existence; you start to wonder if you'll ever accomplish it; at a certain point it looms as a distinct and realistic possibility. Then it happens, and you feel, in a small way, that you're a different person; there was a you before and a you now, and those two people are not quite the same.
And in my case: I can't wait to do it (run a marathon, that is) again.
RunVermont, the organization that oversees this marathon, did a simply spectatular job. There is no better adjective. The race was incredibly well-staffed. Except for the long, lonely out-and-back stretch along rte 127 (aka the Burlington Beltline) that comprised miles 4-8, there were hordes of people cheering the runners on at every leg of the race. Thousands upon thousands of Vermonters and out-of-towners alike came out just to watch. Never have I smiled so broadly while running as I did when I saw someone holding a sign that read "Hey Complete Stranger! I'm Proud of You!" And this enthusiasm and impressive turnout was in spite of the fact that the starting gun was fired in the middle of a pretty heavy rain.
But the rain was actually a welcome element; for days leading up to the race, there had been murmurs about the possibility of temperatures in the high 80s. Ungodly humidity. A contingency plan for canceling the whole event in the case of extreme heat in the morning. None of this happened.
There are too many highlights to catalog here, but two things really stand out. At mile 15 was the notorious Assault on Battery Hill: a brutal uphill climb on Battery Street from the South End to Battery Park that rivals Heartbreak Hill in terms of steepness and length. This was the part of the race where crowd encouragement reached a fever pitch. Intellectually, I knew that the uphill was difficult, but I didn't feel it physically. The atmosphere was too overwhelmingly electric for my brain to clue my legs in that they should be hurting. At the bottom of this hill, a drumming corps played in such a way that suggested a march into battle. We could hear it from almost a mile away. It looked like this:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u_pMtTmnnPs&feature=related
Then, of course, there was the last 4-mile stretch. My good friend Wayne, with whom I ran most of the race, had apprised me that the last 4 miles would be far harder than the the first 22 combined. This was absolutely accurate. Running has never been so painful or mentally discombobulating. By this point my legs were begging me to stop, my feet were blistered and both heels were bleeding into my running shoes. A medic at the Mile 24 marker told me my eyes looked glazed.
As I rounded the corner into Battery Park, two wonderful things happened. The first was that my favorite This Will Destroy You song hit its crescendo, and I don't think I'm physically capable of NOT digging in and speeding up when this happens. The second was that the final .2 miles comprised a gauntlet of cheering spectators. There's nothing quite like being in the final moments of accomplishing a 2-year goal while thousands of people cheer you on and reach out for high fives.
Anyway, the vitals:
3:33:29
8:08 Pace
325th out of 2,668 overall
43rd out of 187 in division (Men 30-34)
Huge thanks to Job and Olivia Larson for their incredible hospitality - it doesn't get much better than having a place to stay less than 3 blocks from the starting line.
Big high five to Wayne Pacileo. Sorry I missed New York registration. How about Chicago?
But most of all, love and sincere appreciation to Tianna Tagami, my biggest fan; without whom, I am certain, I would not have been able to do this.
Two Sundays ago I ran my first full: The Vermont City Marathon. I can't really put into words the euphoric, floating feeling that I've been experiencing ever since, in spite of the lingering soreness in my calves, hamstrings, quadriceps, adductors, glutes, and ankles.
At the risk of being crass, I found that it's kind of like losing your virginity. You build it up to be the Holy Grail of your existence; you start to wonder if you'll ever accomplish it; at a certain point it looms as a distinct and realistic possibility. Then it happens, and you feel, in a small way, that you're a different person; there was a you before and a you now, and those two people are not quite the same.
And in my case: I can't wait to do it (run a marathon, that is) again.
RunVermont, the organization that oversees this marathon, did a simply spectatular job. There is no better adjective. The race was incredibly well-staffed. Except for the long, lonely out-and-back stretch along rte 127 (aka the Burlington Beltline) that comprised miles 4-8, there were hordes of people cheering the runners on at every leg of the race. Thousands upon thousands of Vermonters and out-of-towners alike came out just to watch. Never have I smiled so broadly while running as I did when I saw someone holding a sign that read "Hey Complete Stranger! I'm Proud of You!" And this enthusiasm and impressive turnout was in spite of the fact that the starting gun was fired in the middle of a pretty heavy rain.
But the rain was actually a welcome element; for days leading up to the race, there had been murmurs about the possibility of temperatures in the high 80s. Ungodly humidity. A contingency plan for canceling the whole event in the case of extreme heat in the morning. None of this happened.
There are too many highlights to catalog here, but two things really stand out. At mile 15 was the notorious Assault on Battery Hill: a brutal uphill climb on Battery Street from the South End to Battery Park that rivals Heartbreak Hill in terms of steepness and length. This was the part of the race where crowd encouragement reached a fever pitch. Intellectually, I knew that the uphill was difficult, but I didn't feel it physically. The atmosphere was too overwhelmingly electric for my brain to clue my legs in that they should be hurting. At the bottom of this hill, a drumming corps played in such a way that suggested a march into battle. We could hear it from almost a mile away. It looked like this:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u_pMtTmnnPs&feature=related
Then, of course, there was the last 4-mile stretch. My good friend Wayne, with whom I ran most of the race, had apprised me that the last 4 miles would be far harder than the the first 22 combined. This was absolutely accurate. Running has never been so painful or mentally discombobulating. By this point my legs were begging me to stop, my feet were blistered and both heels were bleeding into my running shoes. A medic at the Mile 24 marker told me my eyes looked glazed.
As I rounded the corner into Battery Park, two wonderful things happened. The first was that my favorite This Will Destroy You song hit its crescendo, and I don't think I'm physically capable of NOT digging in and speeding up when this happens. The second was that the final .2 miles comprised a gauntlet of cheering spectators. There's nothing quite like being in the final moments of accomplishing a 2-year goal while thousands of people cheer you on and reach out for high fives.
Anyway, the vitals:
3:33:29
8:08 Pace
325th out of 2,668 overall
43rd out of 187 in division (Men 30-34)
Huge thanks to Job and Olivia Larson for their incredible hospitality - it doesn't get much better than having a place to stay less than 3 blocks from the starting line.
Big high five to Wayne Pacileo. Sorry I missed New York registration. How about Chicago?
But most of all, love and sincere appreciation to Tianna Tagami, my biggest fan; without whom, I am certain, I would not have been able to do this.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Heartbreak Hill Half
(N.B. I started this post almost three weeks ago, the day after the half, and then got distracted with work and other things.)
Yesterday (i.e. Sunday May 15), for the second year in a row, I ran the Katie Lynch Heartbreak Hill Half Marathon. It is without doubt the most challenging races I've ever been involved in. I mentioned in my hill repeat post last week that it gives runners who haven't made it to the Boston Marathon the opportunity (if you want to call it that) to run the most notorious hill in American road racing. And indeed, there is some serious satisfaction in putting that sucker behind you.
As an aside, I can't more highly recommend participating in The KLHHHM. It is a really wonderful race, both in theory and in practice, and they just added a 5K this year, which I presume will continue; so you can get in on it even if you're not quite up to a half marathon. The registration fee and community donations go to a marvelous cause, and the story behind Katie Lynch and her own personal 26.2 ft "marathon" -
http://www.boston.com/marathon/stories/2001/giant_steps.htm
-is sufficient to be heartrendingly inspirational even to unsentimental cynics like yours truly. And then the race itself is organized and staffed so efficiently you'd think a Full Metal Jacket-caliber drill seargeant had been hired to run things. Crowds turn out all over Newton to cheer on the runners (in spite of the cringe-inducing 7:30 a.m. start time), and in general the race just exudes community spirit, friendly competition, and runnerly camaraderie.
My decision to run this year was more or less a whim. Last year I trained six long months for this very race. It was hard not to feel a little bit cocky going in. While I shaved a not-too-shabby 13 minutes off of my time from last year, I did not meet my goal of breaking 90 minutes. And I learned two important lessons: one dietary and one existential.
As to the former: Dairy and distance running do not mix. I've always been a believer in a yogurt-based smoothie (see the second post in this blog for the recipe) as both a pre- and post-workout demi-meal. I need to either rethink this, or find a different base. The smoothie, plus the milk in my cereal, plus a little cream in my coffee all added up to my spending most of the race fighting the urge to veer off-course and vomit. Whole grains and black coffee only before long runs, from now on.
As to the latter: Cockiness does not pay off. My thinking going into this race - and I was fully aware that I was thinking this way and ought not to be, but couldn't seem to shake it - was that since I was full-marathon training, a half would be a walk in the park. Simply not the case.
Yesterday (i.e. Sunday May 15), for the second year in a row, I ran the Katie Lynch Heartbreak Hill Half Marathon. It is without doubt the most challenging races I've ever been involved in. I mentioned in my hill repeat post last week that it gives runners who haven't made it to the Boston Marathon the opportunity (if you want to call it that) to run the most notorious hill in American road racing. And indeed, there is some serious satisfaction in putting that sucker behind you.
As an aside, I can't more highly recommend participating in The KLHHHM. It is a really wonderful race, both in theory and in practice, and they just added a 5K this year, which I presume will continue; so you can get in on it even if you're not quite up to a half marathon. The registration fee and community donations go to a marvelous cause, and the story behind Katie Lynch and her own personal 26.2 ft "marathon" -
http://www.boston.com/marathon/stories/2001/giant_steps.htm
-is sufficient to be heartrendingly inspirational even to unsentimental cynics like yours truly. And then the race itself is organized and staffed so efficiently you'd think a Full Metal Jacket-caliber drill seargeant had been hired to run things. Crowds turn out all over Newton to cheer on the runners (in spite of the cringe-inducing 7:30 a.m. start time), and in general the race just exudes community spirit, friendly competition, and runnerly camaraderie.
My decision to run this year was more or less a whim. Last year I trained six long months for this very race. It was hard not to feel a little bit cocky going in. While I shaved a not-too-shabby 13 minutes off of my time from last year, I did not meet my goal of breaking 90 minutes. And I learned two important lessons: one dietary and one existential.
As to the former: Dairy and distance running do not mix. I've always been a believer in a yogurt-based smoothie (see the second post in this blog for the recipe) as both a pre- and post-workout demi-meal. I need to either rethink this, or find a different base. The smoothie, plus the milk in my cereal, plus a little cream in my coffee all added up to my spending most of the race fighting the urge to veer off-course and vomit. Whole grains and black coffee only before long runs, from now on.
As to the latter: Cockiness does not pay off. My thinking going into this race - and I was fully aware that I was thinking this way and ought not to be, but couldn't seem to shake it - was that since I was full-marathon training, a half would be a walk in the park. Simply not the case.
Friday, May 13, 2011
4-Bean Chili
Chili seems to be one of those foods that just connotes gluttony and overindulgence. Maybe that's because of all the ways that it's used as a prefix: chili fries, chili dogs, chili mac. Maybe it's because, at least in its "Texas-style" incarnation, chili is such a beef-intensive calamity. One pub in Somerville, which has a pretty good beer list and holds high romantic/sentimental value for me, but can't put together a good plate of food to save its life, boasts that its chili contains ground beef, brisket, AND two kinds of sausage. If that sounded even remotely appealing, I'd just go to Denny's, get the Meat-Lover's Grand Slam for a fraction of the price, and hasten heart disease in one fell swoop.
What really makes chili good is the stew-like texture and the complexity of seasonings. That complexity is intensified the longer the chili sits. If possible, I recommend starting the day before you intend to serve it. Sitting in the frige overnight really gives the flavors a chance to mingle.
My version makes for a fairly spicy bowlful, but that can be pretty easily adjusted if your palate runs toward more mild flavors.
Ingredients:
1 15-ounce can of kidney beans
1 15-ounce can of black beans
1 15-ounce can of pinto beans
1 15-ounce can of garbanzo beans
1 15-ounce can of diced tomatoes
3 yellow onions, chopped
1 red bell pepper, chopped
1 jalapeno pepper, chopped
1 tbsp white flour
1 piece (literally bite-sized) dark chocolate
1 tbsp butter
Vegetable Stock Cubes
Seasonings (to taste):
Salt
Black Pepper
White Pepper
Dry Mustard
Garlic Powder
Oregano
Chili Powder
Cumin
Cayenne
Ground Habanero (very optional)
Melt the butter and one stock cube in a medium-sized pot. Add onion, red bell pepper, jalapeno, black pepper, and salt. Mix together and cook covered over medium heat for about 10 minutes. Add mustard, garlic powder, oregano, and white pepper. Reduce heat, stir, and cook for another 45 minutes. Check occasionally and add stock cubes one or two at a time if vegetables are drying out or sticking to the pot. You can also deglaze the pot with a splash of beer.
Rinse and drain all of the beans in a collander, then add to pot. Add the whole can of tomatoes (do not drain first; you want the tomato juice too). Add 5 stock cubes, stir, and cover.
In a pitcher, combine 2 cups warm water with chili powder, cumin, and cayenne (you want a roughly 2:1:1 ratio of these three seasonings, respectively). Add a few dashes of ground habanero pepper if you're using it. Stir until seasonings are dissolved and pour into pot. Continue cooking covered for as long as possible, 1 hour minimum.
(At this point, I like to turn off the heat, allow it to cool a bit, and refrigerate overnight. If you have the time, do this and then warm back up the next day and continue with directions below. If not, just continue.)
Mix 1 cup warm water with flour. Add to the pot and stir thoroughly. Leave uncovered and cook down, allowing the moisture to evaporate and the chili to thicken. When it reaches desired consistency, add the piece of chocolate. Simmer another 10 minutes and serve with grated cheddar, cornbread, and beer.
What really makes chili good is the stew-like texture and the complexity of seasonings. That complexity is intensified the longer the chili sits. If possible, I recommend starting the day before you intend to serve it. Sitting in the frige overnight really gives the flavors a chance to mingle.
My version makes for a fairly spicy bowlful, but that can be pretty easily adjusted if your palate runs toward more mild flavors.
Ingredients:
1 15-ounce can of kidney beans
1 15-ounce can of black beans
1 15-ounce can of pinto beans
1 15-ounce can of garbanzo beans
1 15-ounce can of diced tomatoes
3 yellow onions, chopped
1 red bell pepper, chopped
1 jalapeno pepper, chopped
1 tbsp white flour
1 piece (literally bite-sized) dark chocolate
1 tbsp butter
Vegetable Stock Cubes
Seasonings (to taste):
Salt
Black Pepper
White Pepper
Dry Mustard
Garlic Powder
Oregano
Chili Powder
Cumin
Cayenne
Ground Habanero (very optional)
Melt the butter and one stock cube in a medium-sized pot. Add onion, red bell pepper, jalapeno, black pepper, and salt. Mix together and cook covered over medium heat for about 10 minutes. Add mustard, garlic powder, oregano, and white pepper. Reduce heat, stir, and cook for another 45 minutes. Check occasionally and add stock cubes one or two at a time if vegetables are drying out or sticking to the pot. You can also deglaze the pot with a splash of beer.
Rinse and drain all of the beans in a collander, then add to pot. Add the whole can of tomatoes (do not drain first; you want the tomato juice too). Add 5 stock cubes, stir, and cover.
In a pitcher, combine 2 cups warm water with chili powder, cumin, and cayenne (you want a roughly 2:1:1 ratio of these three seasonings, respectively). Add a few dashes of ground habanero pepper if you're using it. Stir until seasonings are dissolved and pour into pot. Continue cooking covered for as long as possible, 1 hour minimum.
(At this point, I like to turn off the heat, allow it to cool a bit, and refrigerate overnight. If you have the time, do this and then warm back up the next day and continue with directions below. If not, just continue.)
Mix 1 cup warm water with flour. Add to the pot and stir thoroughly. Leave uncovered and cook down, allowing the moisture to evaporate and the chili to thicken. When it reaches desired consistency, add the piece of chocolate. Simmer another 10 minutes and serve with grated cheddar, cornbread, and beer.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Hill Repeats
Any hardcore runner who reads the title of this entry is probably already shuddering a little bit.
Hill repeats are sort of the layup practice and fumble recovery drills of running.
OK, that's a pretty weak analogy.
But they are as fundamental to being a strong distance runner as the ability to sink a simple layup is to a well-rounded basketball player, or the instinctive pounce on a loose football (performed before the brain has even comprehended that the running back dropped it) is to a defensive tackle. That is to say, hill repeats instill in the runner certain instincts and automated responses that come in very very handy.
Run any community 5K or 5-miler, and watch the majority of runners - even very fit or fast ones - slow waaay down at the first serious incline. Because hills are not particularly fun to ascend on foot, a lot of people purposely design their practice run routes to avoid them. Race organizers, however, are seldom so courteous. With the exception of the infamously-flat Chicago Marathon, most major races, from 5K on up, will have at least one difficult climb. Heartbreak Hill, which makes its sinister appearance 20 miles into the Boston Marathon, is legendary. I got to run it in mile 6 of my first half marathon and, believe me, it is not to be trifled with. My personal favorite hometown race, The 5-mile Brew Run on Cape Cod, features an uphill in mile 4 that was clearly included just to break the will and enthusiasm of anyone who thought they might P.R. (set a personal time record).
Training with hills - not just picking hilly courses, but occasionally devoting your workout to them exclusively - works pretty efficiently to equip your legs and core (and mind) to deal with looming steepness. Hill repeats, then, are exactly what they sound like. Run a few miles to loosen up, and arrive at the steepest hill in town (preferably anywhere between 1/8 and 1/4 mile. Run up and down it. Rest a minute or two and hydrate. Do it again. And again.
Obviously, this isn't much fun. Tell a fellow runner you're doing hill work, and they will surely give you one of those cringey looks of sympathy that suggests "Aw, you're a trooper." And okay, so there's not really any way to sugar coat the monotonous grind of this particular workout. One little game I enjoy is timing the first ascent/descent repeat and then trying to break that time. Which, of course, becomes progressively more difficult, since each repeat is going to be harder than the last.
But it's worth it. Aside from the mental readiness of tackling hills in races, every leg muscle gets a rigorous (and slightly different from flat running) workout. It's also basically the best calorie-burning workout ever, if you're into that.
And in certain moments, it can be really satisfying in its own right. Like any activity that's repetitive but done with purpose and a goal in mind, the monotony can sometimes give over to a transcendent at-peace-with-the-universe kind of feeling. It helps to have the ideal hill-repeat hill only a few miles away. I'm not a big trail runner, but Middlesex Fells Reservation in north Medford - a 2,500 acre refuge from city life filled with winding, uneven dirt trails - sometimes holds a simply irresistible allure. One of these trails veers sharply off of the main trail to bring the intrepid hiker up to Wright's Tower along a 1/8(ish) mile trail that's just steep enough to look foreboding.
The Wright's Tower trail; this is what you see when you're about nine-tenths of the way up.
And at the top, this view is your reward.
Hill repeats are sort of the layup practice and fumble recovery drills of running.
OK, that's a pretty weak analogy.
But they are as fundamental to being a strong distance runner as the ability to sink a simple layup is to a well-rounded basketball player, or the instinctive pounce on a loose football (performed before the brain has even comprehended that the running back dropped it) is to a defensive tackle. That is to say, hill repeats instill in the runner certain instincts and automated responses that come in very very handy.
Run any community 5K or 5-miler, and watch the majority of runners - even very fit or fast ones - slow waaay down at the first serious incline. Because hills are not particularly fun to ascend on foot, a lot of people purposely design their practice run routes to avoid them. Race organizers, however, are seldom so courteous. With the exception of the infamously-flat Chicago Marathon, most major races, from 5K on up, will have at least one difficult climb. Heartbreak Hill, which makes its sinister appearance 20 miles into the Boston Marathon, is legendary. I got to run it in mile 6 of my first half marathon and, believe me, it is not to be trifled with. My personal favorite hometown race, The 5-mile Brew Run on Cape Cod, features an uphill in mile 4 that was clearly included just to break the will and enthusiasm of anyone who thought they might P.R. (set a personal time record).
Training with hills - not just picking hilly courses, but occasionally devoting your workout to them exclusively - works pretty efficiently to equip your legs and core (and mind) to deal with looming steepness. Hill repeats, then, are exactly what they sound like. Run a few miles to loosen up, and arrive at the steepest hill in town (preferably anywhere between 1/8 and 1/4 mile. Run up and down it. Rest a minute or two and hydrate. Do it again. And again.
Obviously, this isn't much fun. Tell a fellow runner you're doing hill work, and they will surely give you one of those cringey looks of sympathy that suggests "Aw, you're a trooper." And okay, so there's not really any way to sugar coat the monotonous grind of this particular workout. One little game I enjoy is timing the first ascent/descent repeat and then trying to break that time. Which, of course, becomes progressively more difficult, since each repeat is going to be harder than the last.
But it's worth it. Aside from the mental readiness of tackling hills in races, every leg muscle gets a rigorous (and slightly different from flat running) workout. It's also basically the best calorie-burning workout ever, if you're into that.
And in certain moments, it can be really satisfying in its own right. Like any activity that's repetitive but done with purpose and a goal in mind, the monotony can sometimes give over to a transcendent at-peace-with-the-universe kind of feeling. It helps to have the ideal hill-repeat hill only a few miles away. I'm not a big trail runner, but Middlesex Fells Reservation in north Medford - a 2,500 acre refuge from city life filled with winding, uneven dirt trails - sometimes holds a simply irresistible allure. One of these trails veers sharply off of the main trail to bring the intrepid hiker up to Wright's Tower along a 1/8(ish) mile trail that's just steep enough to look foreboding.
The Wright's Tower trail; this is what you see when you're about nine-tenths of the way up.
And at the top, this view is your reward.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Cornmeal-Crusted Tempeh over Mushroom-Lentil Stew w/ Pan Gravy
I've apparently saved the best for first. If there's ever a dish that will make you say "Who needs steak?", this is it. It's my attempt to blindly recreate a dish from True Bistro, a vegan restaurant in Somerville that was instrumental in making me decide to go veg. The gravy part is my own invention, though.
(photography by Tianna Tagami)
Serves 2
Ingredients:
1 Block of garden vegetable or soy tempeh (~8 oz.)
1/3 cup dry lentils
8 white or portabello mushrooms, roughly chopped
2 tbsp butter
1/2 cup red wine vinegar
1/4 cup white cooking wine
Vegetable Stock (preferably in cubes; see 5/3 blog entry)
2 tbsp vegetable or canola oil
1 cup ground cornmeal
1 tbsp Italian (or other vinegar-based) salad dressing
1/4 cup half & half
1/4 cup (max.) white flour
Seasonings (to taste)
Salt
Black pepper
White pepper
Dry mustard
Garlic powder
Onion Salt
Oregano
Prep:
Par-boil lentils for at least 45 minutes. Drain and reserve the water for another time (lentil stock is good stuff). Set lentils aside.
Cut tempeh in half and then each half down the middle to reduce thickness of each piece. Marinate in red wine vinegar. Put cornmeal in a bowl and stir in salt and pepper.
Preheat oven to 225 F.
Cook:
Melt one tablespoon of butter and 2 stock cubes in a saucepan over medium heat. Add mushrooms, salt, and pepper. Cover and simmer 10 minutes. Add all other spices, stir, and cover.
Simmer another 20 minutes. Add lentils and 2 more stock cubes. Cover. Mushrooms and lentils should form a thick, brothy stew. If too thick, add stock. If too thin, simmer uncovered to cook off moisture.
Add oil to skillet over high heat (turn on hood fan now). Wait for it to just start to smoke and reduce heat to medium. Dredge each marinated tempeh piece in cornmeal and put in skillet. Cook 2 minutes without moving, flip, cook another 2 minutes. Do not crowd the skillet; work in batches. When each one is finished, use spatula to cut in half diagonally, giving you a total of 8 triangular pieces. Put them in the in oven, loosely-wrapped in foil to retain moisture.
Deglaze skillet with white wine. Add 5 stock cubes and 1 tbsp butter. Wait for it to simmer, and add cream. Stir. Slowly add flour while constantly whisking. Continue until desired thickness is reached. You can always thicken with additional flour or thin with additional stock. Complete the gravy by stirring in salad dressing.
Divide the lentil-mushroom stew among 2 plates. Top with tempeh and drizzle gravy over the top. Sprinkle with grated parmesan and serve immediately with a side of steamed broccoli or asparagus.
(photography by Tianna Tagami)
Serves 2
Ingredients:
1 Block of garden vegetable or soy tempeh (~8 oz.)
1/3 cup dry lentils
8 white or portabello mushrooms, roughly chopped
2 tbsp butter
1/2 cup red wine vinegar
1/4 cup white cooking wine
Vegetable Stock (preferably in cubes; see 5/3 blog entry)
2 tbsp vegetable or canola oil
1 cup ground cornmeal
1 tbsp Italian (or other vinegar-based) salad dressing
1/4 cup half & half
1/4 cup (max.) white flour
Seasonings (to taste)
Salt
Black pepper
White pepper
Dry mustard
Garlic powder
Onion Salt
Oregano
Prep:
Par-boil lentils for at least 45 minutes. Drain and reserve the water for another time (lentil stock is good stuff). Set lentils aside.
Cut tempeh in half and then each half down the middle to reduce thickness of each piece. Marinate in red wine vinegar. Put cornmeal in a bowl and stir in salt and pepper.
Preheat oven to 225 F.
Cook:
Melt one tablespoon of butter and 2 stock cubes in a saucepan over medium heat. Add mushrooms, salt, and pepper. Cover and simmer 10 minutes. Add all other spices, stir, and cover.
Simmer another 20 minutes. Add lentils and 2 more stock cubes. Cover. Mushrooms and lentils should form a thick, brothy stew. If too thick, add stock. If too thin, simmer uncovered to cook off moisture.
Divide the lentil-mushroom stew among 2 plates. Top with tempeh and drizzle gravy over the top. Sprinkle with grated parmesan and serve immediately with a side of steamed broccoli or asparagus.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Running, Addiction, Tolerance, Withdrawal
At a certain point I transitioned from running as a way to stay in relatively decent shape and get outdoors when the weather was nice to being a runner. I think I can pinpoint it, in fact, to a rainy day shortly before Thanksgiving of 2009, when I registered for my first half marathon and immediately - even though the race wasn't for another 6 months - wondered what the hell I'd gotten myself into.
Put it this way. Before that 2009-10 season, I actually took winters off.
That's when "running" became "training." But this is in most ways a good thing. It's good to have at least one thing in my life, other than work, that I feel like I'm doing to the hilt. And it's good to have purpose when you lace up your shoes and track your intended route online and start stretching on the front porch. And the whole "staying in shape and enjoying being outside" part sticks around.
But funny things start to happen. Distances that once seemed like major accomplishments are suddenly referred to as "my short run." The first time I ever logged 5 whole miles, I was in 6th grade. One sunny spring afternoon, I ran 8 laps around what my family termed "the long block" - a neighborhoody loop of .6 miles that happened to be contiguous with my paper route - plus a single lap around the self-explanatory "short block." The sense of achievement that accompanied this run was enormous, and right up until 3 years ago, a 5 mile run was basically the gold standard of a difficult workout. I could do it, but man oh man, I would sleep like a baby that night and be stiff as an old man the next morning.
When running turns into training, suddenly it's "Hmm, I have 45 minutes before I need to get ready for work. Guess I'll get 5 miles in."
And while it's surely a sign of ever-increasing endurance, strength, and drive, it's also kind of frustrating to not feel like you put in a solid effort if your day's mileage is anything less than 15.
Another issue is that having to stop running can produce physical and mental reactions that are, from what I've seen in mainstream movies and filmstrips from the D.A.R.E. era, not unlike withdrawal from hard drugs. I had to skip 4 solid days of training after spraining my ankle (to be fair, I thought I was going to miss a full week), and by Day 2 I was all but throwing things at the wall. I intensely envied every runner I saw on the sidewalk, whether he or she was out for a languid jog or performing the telltale acceleration from race-pace to sprint that suggests a fartleking* distance runner.
But so the point is that it wasn't just me fretting about lost training time. There's something more. The body actually becomes accustomed to the strenuous effort required to run multiple miles. The brain - and distance running is hugely psychological - begins to wonder why it isn't getting the dopamine rush that comes with a late-run speed kick or the mild runner's highs that ebb and flow on lucky days. Favorite high-energy songs suddenly seem bland when they're accompanying a drive to the grocery store instead of a nasty uphill at mile 12. I have no data or scientific background to offer this claim as anything but anecdotal. But when I can't run, even though I know logically that a few days rest is actually good for my training and that aggravating a sprained ankle will only make it worse, the irrational, id-driven, let's-have-ice-cream-for-dinner, immediate gratification-seeking voice - the Me Me Me that precedes the civilized human - wants only to run, shaky ankle notwithstanding. This kind of obsessive tendency could have worse objects, like, say, actual drugs. But it seems to work in the same way.
*Yes, this is a thing, albeit an unfortunately-named thing.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fartlek
Put it this way. Before that 2009-10 season, I actually took winters off.
That's when "running" became "training." But this is in most ways a good thing. It's good to have at least one thing in my life, other than work, that I feel like I'm doing to the hilt. And it's good to have purpose when you lace up your shoes and track your intended route online and start stretching on the front porch. And the whole "staying in shape and enjoying being outside" part sticks around.
But funny things start to happen. Distances that once seemed like major accomplishments are suddenly referred to as "my short run." The first time I ever logged 5 whole miles, I was in 6th grade. One sunny spring afternoon, I ran 8 laps around what my family termed "the long block" - a neighborhoody loop of .6 miles that happened to be contiguous with my paper route - plus a single lap around the self-explanatory "short block." The sense of achievement that accompanied this run was enormous, and right up until 3 years ago, a 5 mile run was basically the gold standard of a difficult workout. I could do it, but man oh man, I would sleep like a baby that night and be stiff as an old man the next morning.
When running turns into training, suddenly it's "Hmm, I have 45 minutes before I need to get ready for work. Guess I'll get 5 miles in."
And while it's surely a sign of ever-increasing endurance, strength, and drive, it's also kind of frustrating to not feel like you put in a solid effort if your day's mileage is anything less than 15.
Another issue is that having to stop running can produce physical and mental reactions that are, from what I've seen in mainstream movies and filmstrips from the D.A.R.E. era, not unlike withdrawal from hard drugs. I had to skip 4 solid days of training after spraining my ankle (to be fair, I thought I was going to miss a full week), and by Day 2 I was all but throwing things at the wall. I intensely envied every runner I saw on the sidewalk, whether he or she was out for a languid jog or performing the telltale acceleration from race-pace to sprint that suggests a fartleking* distance runner.
But so the point is that it wasn't just me fretting about lost training time. There's something more. The body actually becomes accustomed to the strenuous effort required to run multiple miles. The brain - and distance running is hugely psychological - begins to wonder why it isn't getting the dopamine rush that comes with a late-run speed kick or the mild runner's highs that ebb and flow on lucky days. Favorite high-energy songs suddenly seem bland when they're accompanying a drive to the grocery store instead of a nasty uphill at mile 12. I have no data or scientific background to offer this claim as anything but anecdotal. But when I can't run, even though I know logically that a few days rest is actually good for my training and that aggravating a sprained ankle will only make it worse, the irrational, id-driven, let's-have-ice-cream-for-dinner, immediate gratification-seeking voice - the Me Me Me that precedes the civilized human - wants only to run, shaky ankle notwithstanding. This kind of obsessive tendency could have worse objects, like, say, actual drugs. But it seems to work in the same way.
*Yes, this is a thing, albeit an unfortunately-named thing.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fartlek
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
