I’m busy getting Dots stuck between my teeth while Gene Wilder cracks boob innuendos (“NICE. KNOCKERS.”) in Young Frankenstein so… I’ll scurry. Today’s appropriately orange fare is one lightly spiced persimmon waffle, made from almond and oat flours out of deference to my xGFx friends. A waffle for persimmon lovers and persimmon ambivalents. A waffle that, to quip my mom, “could use some nuts.”

Consider this a final YAWP from my corner of the internet for MoFo 2012. Thanks for reading or enjoying or commenting or considering any of the three. I admittedly puttered out toward the end (thanks new job), but I plan on continuing to waffle through November.

Halloween, make yours candy-happy!

Takes 20-30 minutes
Makes 3 Belgian waffles

3/4 persimmon puree from 3-4 Fuyu persimmons
3/4 cup almond flour (I used Trader Joe’s brand)
3/4 cup oat flour (I used Bob’s Red Mill brand)
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp nutmeg
1/2 tsp allspice
3/4 tsp salt
1 cup coconut milk (the drinking kind) or other non-dairy milk
1/4 cup oil
2 T evaporated cane juice or other vegan sugar
3 tsp Ener-G egg replacer*
4 T water*

2. Make your persimmon puree first. Take your roughly chopped persimmons and commence persimmon v. food processor war. You are beating these fruits to a pulp, you culinary bully, you. I pureed 4 persimmons for a good 10-15 minutes, scraping the sides dutifully, until I was left with this virtually chunk-less puree.

Use leftover persimmon puree in oatmeal, smoothies, and cookies; I’ve found it subs well for pumpkin in baked goods.

1. In a large mixing bowl, sift together the flours, spices, and salt thoroughly. In a smaller mixing bowl, whisk or vigorously “fork” together the coconut milk, canola oil, persimmon puree, and sugar. In an even smaller bowl, whisk together the Ener-G egg replacer with the water and mix into the other liquid ingredients. Add wet ingredients to the dry and combine gently.

2. Pour 3/4 to as much as 1 cup batter onto a pre-greased waffle iron. Cook according to your waffle iron’s instructions. I cooked mine a minute longer than my usual 5. Remove gently with a fork as these are ever so fragile! Serve with vegan butter, agave nectar, jam, or whatever you prefer to mingle with your waffles.

*Sub flax seed eggs for the 2 Ener-G eggs if it pleases you.

Fresh coriander (cilantro), jalapenos, ginger and whole lentils headline this waffle matinee. While these were protein-erific (love them lentils!), the symphony of flavors fell flat with an anticlimactic thud. If this were the VMAs, the coriander would be Taylor Swift glancing sideways in expected glory and the jalapenos, thunder-stealing Kanye. Avocado, symbolic cape fluttering in the wind, saved the day as ever, complementary and cooling against the spice.

As for the recipe? Won’t share, wouldn’t dare. I do so ever fear the blogosphere kibitzing; also, coriander-haters.

Judging.

MoFo.

Turkeys.

Waffle sundaes tomorrow, ta!

I fully endorse dessert as a meal replacement. With enthusiam, I eat my kale-a-day, attack my mixing bowl salads with B-12 flakelettes (nooch-addicted!), and gleefully wolf down my morning oatmeal. But sometimes you are in the mood for Foodstuffs Most Innutritious and when that sometimes becomes today times you might just try this wafflewich on for gluttony. Leftover VWAV Ginger Pear waffles*, ripe slices of Bartlett pear, agave-sweetened cashew cream, and semisweet chocolate chips to establish decadence. If I were to open my own vegan gourmet wafflewich-erie (à la Bruxie of my Orange days), I would first grin toothlessly until acrimonious onlookers threw rocks and, more saliently, this sandwich would headline the menu.

As this was my lunch, I followed it with carrot sticks with Siracha. Let’s attribute it as just one flounder in an ocean of vegan idiosyncrasies.

*Burnt, you query? Burnt ‘n tasty, I answer.

I am about to bust open the seams of food blogging perfectionism: many recipes fail.

This morning, de-arilling pomegranates, magenta juices veining down my arm’s crevices, I imagine myself a Martha (from The Handmaid’s Tale) shucking peas; I am zen. A bubblegum pink froth gurgles in the food processor’s depths; a few moments later, strained and pulp-less. Nutty oat flour and pomegranate juice combine to create a lilac batter, tangy and semi-sweet when licked from a curious index finger. Once poured the batter expands spherically, as if by magic, hugging every labyrinthine crevice of the fast-descending waffle iron. Five minutes tick away on the piggy timer as steam jigs throughout the kitchen–yes, it is time. Opening the iron a half-inch, the waffle top refuses to retire from its iron (I make pun!) embrace. With a fork, I salvage the waffle’s disintegrating structures and look woefully upon the tattered result. Hole-ridden. Torn. A no good-dirty-rotten-pig-stealing-great-great-waffle-failure.

So here’s to the kitchen failures: unplanned, unphotogenic, underappreciated.

Still, not as injurious as when I cut a deep gash into the palm of my hand on my second night in Paris. At the corner pharmacie, I did a uncanny “tree falling” impression on a reading glass trolley when I fainted upon removal of my makeshift napkin bandage. The bulbous scar rubs my keyboard to this very post.

Any kitchen flops you’re keen to brag about? Me and my floppy waffles are all ears.

Missing from the post title is some veganized bastardization of the word “chicken.”  As someone who sincerely believes that word choice affects culture, I wish more vegans would honestly christen entrees without compulsion to commit complimentary orthographic war. Any American who’s scanned the veg*n frozen food section knows to what I refer: “Chick’n,” “mylk,” “cheeze.” This is but a small sample of  the teeming world of vegan portmanteaus and winking quotation marks. For exclusive access to the blogger’s cut of this mini-rant, click on.

Although I understand why vegans might christen foods based on their omnivorous counterparts–familiarity, cuteness, habit– I hope to evolve past this trend as a culinary people. I once dined with a friend at an extremely popular SoCal vegan restaurant that adheres to the QMF (Quotation Marks Format) of veganism–”chicken,” “steak,” and other quotation mark’ed meats littered the menu ad nauseam. My omni friend ordered a “chicken” burger and was vocally surprised by her faux chicken patty; had the chefs not paltered with their entreés, she might have avoided such agita. Granted, she should have paid closer attention to the menu, but this is but one reason why vegan dish specificity matters.

Let me attempt to arrest your disattention with 4 more reasons why veganism should move away from omnivorous-referential food descriptions:

1. Calling anything “fake” inherently cheapens vegan food, as if plants, grains, and nuts were less physically provable than dead flesh.
2. This widespread penchant for “light-hearted” word play harkens comparisons to undeniably cruel foodstuffs. As a vegan for ethical reasons, I much prefer to say I ate “quinoa-based nuggets” than “chick’n tenders.”; it nags my conscience to be even linguistically connected to the animal murder I went vegan precisely to shun.
3. Meat/milk/whatever comparisons allow omnivores to discredit vegan foods for what they aren’t instead of lauding them for their unique flavor profile.
4. Finally, naming foods by their ingredients is effective vegan marketing : if we use the word “tempeh” more and “bac’un” less, my (curious and well-intentioned) friends might stop asking me to explain the fermented soybean patty. And that’s what I’d call progress.

Now that I’ve navigated the steep descent from my pulpit,  let’s talk battered tofu & waffles. Press the tofu for an hour, turning halfway, and then cut into two halves width-wise. Marinate the halves in soy sauce for 20 minutes, as inspired by this PPK Facebook post about breading tofu.

Next dredge the tofus thoroughly in a fried chicken batter mixture. I used a Nona brand box gathering dust in my cupboard, whose ingredients included wheat flour, corn flour, tapioca starch, spices, flavour enhancer E621 (a.k.a. MSG), and salt. Fry the breaded tofus in an inch of hot peanut oil for a few minutes on each side. Use a leftover paper bag (Chipotle bags abound in my house) to soak up the tofus’ leftover oil and serve with your favorite vegan waffle. Might I nod you in the direction of my Kale Garlic Waffles? I might.

With dishes this ambrosial, it’s clear that vegan food needs no animal-grounded point of reference. I could pen odes to the squishy marinade sponge that is tofu; sonnets to when it’s fried in flour and starch. So while there may be a famous chicken dish upon which this vegan one is inspired, it still stands apart on its own culinary merits.

Anyone itching to play devil’s advocate to my argument? I do enjoy a sententious comments rumble.

Like all vegans I weekly stare into my vegetable crisper, willing limp tendrils of kale to cook themselves beyond a monotonous garlic and olive oil sauté. Kale waffles deftly solve such quotidian vegan-world problems.

I fear The Bitter so I only pureed a cup of kale to add nutrition and technicolor without evoking memories of grassy kale-grit smoothies. Know that these verdant pretties pack a garlic wallop: my mother haughtily turned on the fan to rid the kitchen of garlic stench after cleanup. Using one jalapeno I barely detected any spice, so others similarly capsaicin-addicted will want to add up to 3 jalapenos depending on your masochistic tolerance.

Ironically, I still have oodles of kale left. Ideas?

Takes 20-30 minutes
Makes 2 1/2 waffles

1 cup kale, very tightly packed and stems removed
3 cloves garlic
1-3 jalapenos, diced
1 1/2 cups almond milk
1 1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
1 1/2 tsp ground cumin
2 T coconut oil

1. In a food processor or blender, puree the kale, garlic cloves, jalapeno(s), and 1 cup almond milk until no large chunks remain. A Vitamix or Magic Bullet is ideal to get a completely smooth end product, but I used an ancient food processor and it was still quite tasty.

2. Preheat waffle iron. In a large mixing bowl, sift together all-purpose flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and cumin. In a medium mixing bowl, mix the contents of the food processor (or blender) with the remaining 1/2 cup almond milk and coconut oil. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry and mix gently until combined.

3. Pour whole cups of batter onto the waffle iron and cook according to waffle iron’s instructions. Mine took 5 minutes. These pair well with (Veganomicon) cashew ricotta and sliced fresh tomatoes. Siracha and caramelized onions would also be excellent.

Awkward naming aside, this is one mutha’uckin’ decadent mess of a sandwich.

I gleaned together various fridge scraps–Veganomicon cashew ricotta, raw kale, homegrown tomatoes, caramelized onions, and lightly sauteed jalapeños–to smush them into submission between Norwegian Potato Waffle halves. The assembly took as long as it takes to quasi-burn frozen waffles in the toaster oven. The frenzied sammich-scarfing, less.

Warning most earnest: include the jalapeños only if you are a seasoned spicephile. My own stomach–the same vessel that once digested Snobby Joes made with 4 accidental tablespoons of pure chile powder–made its jalapeño disapproval clear. California green chiles would be a more stomach-friendly sub.

Vegan Mofo Week 2 yah-yuh!

As the first winds of autumn blew my newly-pixied bedhead this morn’, I yawned over the waffle maker while tightening my grip on a sharpened knife. Waffled out I am.

Instead, toppings! I scrounged together a mélange of late-summer/fall fruit–the final adieu of peaches, two apples, a neighbor’s pomegranate stolen while walking my golden–and a few nose-tickling spices to create this compote. The sweet cardamom brightens up the semi-tartness of the fruit while lime juice and fresh ginger keep the flavors compelling. Cinnamon–the vanilla of spices–was added on reflex. Although the fiber-y crunch of the pomegranate arils isn’t ideal in a compote, at the very least they give one the excuse to type that most pleasing of words: aril.

This compote bespeaks perfection on a Roasted Carrot Waffle, perchance you have a few lurking in your freezer. Alternatively, dine Chez Emily and I’ll plate you one of my ten.

Inspired by the Apple, Ginger, & Cardamom Compote at Green Kitchen Stories

Takes 40 minutes
Makes a little more than a cup

2 heaping cups Fuji apple (2 small apples), cored & chopped in 1/2 inch pieces
3/4 cup pomegranate arils (1 pomegranate)
1 1/4 cup peeled peaches (2 small peaches), roughly chopped
1 tsp fresh ginger, peeled & finely minced*
juice of 1/2 lime
2-3 T unrefined sugar, depending on the tartness of your fruit
1/2 cup water
1 T green cardamom pods, freshly ground*
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
2 cinnamon sticks
1/8 tsp ground allspice

1. Add all ingredients to a pot and bring to a boil. Cover, turn heat down to low, and simmer for 30-40 minutes or until all the water is gone. Don’t forget to stir every so often, adjusting sugar, lime juice, and spices to taste.

*A Magic Bullet is your best kitchen buddy here. Measure out 1 T  of cardamom pods first, grind, empty, and then whiz a 1/2 inch nub of ginger. Easy.

Edit: Apparently the FB link was misbehaving (thanks, Kittee!), so if you’d like to see my new pixie cut click away.

Day 4 means it’s time for some savory fare. While I, Emily, will happily eat sweet foods for consecutive lunches as Blogger Most Dutiful, Stomach gets snarky. As the masticated syrup-’n-waffle pulp slides down my gullet, Stomach belches, “‘Da fuck, Esophagus? Not more of that sugar-fucked flour!” Today’s lunch pleased the fictional potty mouth quite handsomely.

At the Davis farmer’s market yestereve, I basil-faced it. Yes, that’s exactly what it sounds like. Nose engulfed in a foliage of aromatic green, I surrendered with a waffle white flag. A waffle founded on the categorical goodness of roasted garlic with accents of peppery basil and olive oil.

Add some roasted cherry tomatoes (last of the season, I eulogize) and you’re practically stewing marinara sauce–garlic, basil, olive oil, tomatoes–here. Would a stupid person eat waffles with a marinara flavor profile? Yes, trumpets this stupid person, yes they would.

Takes 1 1/2 hours
Makes 3 waffles

1 head garlic
4 T olive oil
1 panier cherry tomatoes
1 1/4 cup all-purpose flour
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
1 1/4 cups plus 2 T almond milk
fresh basil: 2 heaping T minced, 2-3 T chiffonade, plus a few leaves reserved for garnish
vegan butter (optional)

1. Preheat oven to 400 °F (200 °C). Peel away the outer layer of the garlic bulb skin, leaving the skins of the individual cloves intact. Using a knife, cut off 1/4 to a 1/2 inch of the top of cloves, exposing the individual cloves of garlic. Drizzle 1 tsp of olive oil over the head, using your fingers to make sure the garlic head is well coated. Wrap in aluminum foil and place in the oven to roast for 40 minutes or until cloves feel soft when pressed.

2. De-stem the cherry tomatoes and place in a shallow baking dish. Drizzle with a teaspoon of olive oil (eyeball it!) over the tomatoes, ensuring even coating with your hands. Add salt and pepper to taste. Cover with foil and place in oven ten minutes after the garlic. Roast for 15-20 minutes or until tomatoes are soft.

3. Preheat waffle iron. In a large mixing bowl, sift together flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Popping the cloves of garlic out of their skins, mash well in a medium mixing bowl. You want the garlic pulp as smooth as possible. Add almond milk & 2 T olive oil to the garlic and whisk extremely well. Add wet ingredients to the dry and combine together gently. Fold in the 2 T minced basil.

4. Pour 3/4 cup batter onto the hot griddle and cook until golden; mine took 5 minutes, but cook according to your waffle iron’s instructions. While waffles are cooking, drain the roasted cherry tomatoes and combine gently with the 2-3 T chiffonade basil. Taste for salt & pepper and serve on waffles with a pat of vegan butter.