The Queen Bully of Garlic

In an old FoodVibe post Steve asked: Is it worth trying to juice garlic?

I'll answer this question, unequivocally: NO.

I juiced garlic, once. At the time I was twenty-two, bursting with bravado, and inspired by the heady writing of one of my early heroes, the juicing extraordinaire, Dr. Norman Walker. (Warning: Do not follow that link lightly...) In his famous Fresh Vegetable and Fruit Juices this is what Dr. Walker has to say about garlic juice:

"Metaphorically speaking, garlic itself is bad enough but garlic juice by itself may cause devastating social ostracism for the one who drinks it. It is very beneficial, if one has the mental fortitude to overcome social handicaps, and the intestinal fortitude to endure the general discomfort which accompanies the more or less rapid house cleaning of one's system."

Around this time I smuggled fresh garlic into restaurants. I cut the cloves raw onto my food. (Suzanne will attest to this fact.)

I had the mental fortitude. Unfortunately, I did not have the intestinal fortitude. One cup of garlic juice and I was walloped. I drank the garlic juice, mercifully mixed with carrots, on a Friday morning in July. I was due to go to the beach for the weekend. I never made it. I spent the weekend in bed, immersed in one of the most intense and ridiculous detox experiences of my life. I smelled like garlic until September.

Garlic is intense. At the very least, it inspires intense emotion. I for one love it. Before I became humbled by life and love, I used it in my own cooking like a battle axe. Don't like garlic? Too bad, here's my Risotto with 40 Cloves of Garlic.

Suzanne and I once made Risotto with 40 Cloves of garlic. It was a balmy summer night. We shared the risotto and three magnums of red wine with my brother. Then we went bowling. That sweaty night, as the garlic and wine seeped from our pores, as our friends moaned and complained about the obnoxious smell, we winked at each other and laughed conspiratorially.

No amount of social ostracism could overcome the deep and loving pact we forged over massive amounts of red wine and garlic.

I'm a Garlic Bully. I throw my garlic love in people's faces. Rarely have I met my match. I suppose though when you're a bully you always get your comeuppance.

Once, in Barcelona, I met The Queen Bully of Garlic.

When I lived in Barcelona I made a habit of visiting the fruit and vegetable markets every day. Most days I was so enthralled by the shapes, colors, and smells of the fruits and vegetables that I literally wasted up to an hour, simply browsing the aisles. On one of these occasions I was awakened from my spell by a short fat women whose cheeks were plump and red, and who offered me a clove of garlic speared on the end of a small pocket knife.

“Queries?” she asked.

Then, as if preparing for a sudden burst of song, she proclaimed in rapid fire Spanish that her garlic was the most powerful in Barcelona. As she spoke she waddled back and forth with sincere pride, inhaling deeply, throwing her hands in the air as if to prove that the garlic was responsible for her robust posture. Seeing my doubt, she implored me to bite into the clove and taste for myself.

I accepted the challenge with my bravado, throwing the entire clove into my mouth. I chewed the garlic as if it were an apple, but before my second bite I realized that I was experiencing the real deal: the garlic to end all garlic, a perfect, peppery slice of the beautiful, ugly, power of The Stinking Rose.

I continued chewing with a twisted face, as if it were a matter of pride, like taking a shot of whiskey. The taste, however, was too strong. I spit the clove onto the sidewalk in defeat. The small crowd that had gathered burst into laughter. The fat women smiled. She was chewing on one of the cloves for pleasure.

For the rest of that day and onto the next, wherever I went the smell of garlic followed. Garlic seeped out of my pores like a renegade sweat, like a battle scar.

Moroccan Charmoula Tempeh

This is a close adaptation of the great Peter Berley's recipe from the outstanding book The Modern Vegetarian Kitchen--my all-time favorite vegetarian cookbook. Four garlic cloves make this dish garlicky; six make you a "garlic bully." Serve with rice.

1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
1/2 cup water (yes water)
1/3 cup fresh lemon juice
2 teaspoons fresh ground cumin (Please tell me you grind your own spices?)
2 teaspoons paprika
1 teaspoon ground chile powder
2 teaspoons kosher salt
4-6 garlic cloves, peeled
1/2 cup fresh cilantro, coarsely chopped
1 pound tempeh, cut into one inch squares

In a blender or food processor or blender, mix together olive oil, water, lemon juice, spices, salt, garlic, and cilantro.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Arrange tempeh squares in a single layer in a baking dish. Pour on marinade and cover securely with foil. Bake for 45 minutes, until tempeh has absorbed the marinade. Uncover and bake for a few more minutes to brown.

Serves 4

Dear FoodVibe: Gluten Free Recipes

If you have a question, recipe, or blog request e-mail us at foodvibe@gmail.com...

Dear FoodVibe,

I’d appreciate if you could send me some gluten free recipes. This has been quite a lifestyle change for my family; it started with a horrible mystery illness and eventually turned into a diagnosis of celiac disease. So now I am trying to recreate our lifestyle; only thing, my family cooking background is PA Dutch! Needless to say, it’s been a difficult transition.

Thanks,

Kelly

***

Hi Kelly,

Your story is familiar: first, the mystery symptoms; then, the life-changing diagnosis. I can empathize, having experienced this myself. When I was diagnosed with type-1 diabetes I was also tested for celiacs disease. I tested negative, but I soon discovered that eschewing gluten improved my health immensely. I haven’t eaten wheat, rye, or barley for four years. Now, I only eat spelt.

I like what you say, though: you’re trying to “re-create” your lifestyle. Keep that in mind: change can be a creative venture; it doesn’t have to be a punishment. A diagnosis of celiac disease can seem devastating, I know—suddenly, you can’t eat any of the foods you had eaten before: no Cheerios, no coffee bread, no fastnacht, no pizza, no shoo-fly pie, no cookies!—but with this devastation you’re also granted a wonderful initiative: the need, and hopefully, the will, to explore.

I admire your explorer's attitude.

OK, so recipes?

First, let me say: I don’t go for substitutes. I can recommend some decent alternative products—Tinkyada Rice Pasta, for example; or Sakata Rice Crackers—but really I recommend good food: food that is first and foremost delicious, food that is culturally relevant, food that will make you feel like you’re part of the world.

It’s hard enough, I think, to live with an illness like celiac disease; so why make it harder trying to make up for what you’ve lost with inferior substitutes? People who do this, I sometimes think, are missing the point. A recent column in the magazine Living Without, for example, offers: “Perfect Pasta Salads: Your favorite summer dish is better than ever, without the gluten.”

Bullshit. Actually, it’s worse then ever. This is self-deception, plain and simple. I don't go for self deception. And I certainly don’t go for an attitude that defines a diet or a lifestyle as “living without.”

Why not living with?

Which makes me wonder: Do you eat rice?

There are a few Korean guys at my work, sushi chefs. I love, love watching them eat lunch; it’s always, always the same: a tremendous hunk of sushi rice and some sort of fish or meat. These guys relish their rice with infectious gusto; they make the simple act of eating lunch seem like a celebratory feast. And they do this everyday.

Rice is immensely satisfying, and can be immensely delicious, if properly prepared.

For breakfast: Coconut Rice Pudding (recipe below); or my favored breakfast: a bowl of brown rice, with honey and cinnamon.

For lunch: a hunk of rice (easy to re-heat at work) with, say, anything—meat, fish, beans, or vegetables. I like eating rice with a "sauce", like my Blackened Jalapeño and Avocado Sauce (recipe below).

Dinner: risotto; a perfect pot of rice with, say, Pan Roasted Tempeh with Mediterranean Charmoula (recipe below); Pad Thai; sushi.

Beyond rice, have you tried quinoa?

Or buckwheat? I eat kasha for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. How about Kasha and Chickpeas (recipe below), one of my all time favorites?

Or corn-flour? Polenta is utterly satisfying and thoroughly enjoyable; masa harina makes the best tortillas, perfect for re-heating for lunch.

All of these foods have rich cultural connections (quinoa was the ancient grain of the Incans; tempeh was first made in Indonesia in the mid 1600’s), maybe not your culture, but somewhere, some time, people have prepared, shared, and loved all of these foods. In an increasingly globalised world, I see no problem picking and borrowing from whatever cuisine entices us. We can shop locally; but we can always cook globally.

These foods are certainly gluten-free, but I find it much more healthier to think of them as rice-full, or quinoa-full, or polenta-full. Your diet doesn’t have to be about absence; it can be about utter abundance.

Which also makes me wonder: Have you heard of fruit? Every single fruit is gluten free.
Ditto, every single vegetable. I for one could eat potatoes every single night! And I have! And, fruit, oh now is the best, best, best time for fruit: I’d take fresh Jersey blueberries over a cookie anyday!

Think about this. Every single fruit, every single vegetable! (Not to mention, every single bean, fish, meat, chicken, and drug…just kidding about the last one; although marijuana is gluten-free!) Now that you know what it feels like to to live without certain foods, don’t you feel joyous knowing there’s so much you can live with?

Still, I know, it's tough, unimaginably tough to radically alter your diet. And I often think the hardest adaptation for new celiacs patients is saying goodbye to all the treats: cookies, cakes, pies.

When I was first diagnosed with type-1 diabetes, I'd to complain to my wife: Why me? Why can't I do what everyone else does? Why me?

And she'd do this strange thing: she'd mock me!

Boo hoo! She'd say. Boo-hoo!

And she'd keep saying it until I laughed.

So, no cookie?

Well, boo-hoo!

I say grow up; eat chocolate.

***

Coconut Rice Pudding

1 cup Forbidden Black Rice or arborio rice
4 cups full-fat coconut milk
2 cups water
½ cup raw honey
1 teaspoon cinnamon
½ teaspoon sea salt

In a medium saucepan, combine the rice, coconut milk, water raw honey, cinnamon, and sea salt. Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce the heat to low and simmer for 35-40 minutes, stirring occasionally, until rice is thoroughly cooked.

Chill the rice 1 hour before serving.

Avocado and Blackened Jalapeño Sauce

I originally published this recipe here. It's an adaptation of a wonderful recipe from my friend Obed's wife, Daniella. She served it with the warning: It's too hot for me. This recipe is the HOT version (follow the link for the WIMP version). Serve it with chips, or slathered over chicken, or as a sauce for a bowl of perfectly cooked rice.

Makes about 3 cups

2 large jalapeños
2 large cloves garlic, peeled
2 large Hass avocados, halved, pitted and peeled
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons lime juice
Salt to taste

Heat a small skillet over medium-high heat. Add jalapeños and garlic and cook, shaking the skillet often, until tender and blackened on all sides, 4 to 5 minutes. Set aside to let cool.

Transfer the jalapeños to a blender along with garlic. Add avocados, lime juice and salt and puree until somewhat smooth. With blender still running, slowly drizzle in about 1/2 cup water. Continue to puree until smooth and creamy. Transfer to a bowl and serve.

Pan Roasted Tempeh with Mediterranean Charmoula

Charmoula is a North African marinade typically made of oil, lemon juice, garlic, cumin, cilantro and salt. Here, tempeh is layered in a pan, doused with a Mediterranean version of the classic Charmoula recipe, and roasted until perfectly browned. Serve with basmati rice, cucumber salad and a spicy Shiraz. I originally published this recipe here. This recipe was inspired and adapted from a Peter Berley recipe, from his masterpiece, The Modern Vegetarian Kitchen.

1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
1/2 cup vegetable broth or water
4 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon lemon zest
2 teaspoons salt
4 whole garlic cloves, chopped
1/4 cup fresh parsley, chopped
1/4 fresh basil, chopped
1 pound tempeh, cut into 2-inch squares

Preheat oven to 350°F.

Prepare the charmoula in a small bowl by mixing together the oil, broth, lemon juice, zest, salt, garlic, parsley, and basil; whisk until emulsified.

Layer the tempeh squares in a 9-inch glass baking dish. Pour the charmoula mixture over the tempeh cover the dish tightly with aluminum foil.

Bake for 35–40 minutes; remove the foil and bake for 5-10 more minutes until marinade is absorbed and tempeh is browned.

Kasha and Chickpeas with Caramelized Onions and Mushrooms

This recipe, too, I originally published elsewhere. To me, the smell of kasha cooking is the smell of my Jewish grandparent's house. I eat this dish to make myself feel more fully Jewish, if not religiously, then culturally.


For the Kasha:

2 cups plus 2 tablespoons water
1 cup kasha (roasted buckwheat groats)
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon extra virgin olive oil

For the Onions and Mushrooms:

2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
2 medium onions, thinly sliced
Salt
1 tablespoon mirin
1 tablespoon water
8 ounces crimini mushrooms
2 tablespoons chopped parsley, chopped, more for garnish
1 tablespoon finely chopped garlic
1 (15-ounce) can chickpeas

Prepare the kasha: Bring water to boil in a medium saucepan over high heat. Stir in kasha, salt and olive oil. Reduce heat to low, cover and cook for 15 to 18 minutes, until tender. Remove from heat and set aside.

Prepare the onions and mushrooms: Heat olive oil in a wide sauté pan over medium heat. Add the onions and a pinch of salt. Stir to coat. Add mirin and water, cover, and cook gently over medium-low heat until onions are soft and translucent, 12 to 14 minutes.

Add the mushrooms, raise the heat to high, and cook, stirring frequently, until mushrooms are browned, 6 to 8 minutes. Reduce the heat to low, add parsley, garlic and chickpeas and simmer for 5 to 7 minutes longer, stirring occasionally, until liquid has evaporated.

Lightly fluff kasha with a fork and transfer to a serving bowl or platter. Spoon the chickpeas and vegetables over the kasha. Garnish with parsley leaves and serve.