Spokane Food Blog

I hope I piss you off with this one. By you, I mean the collective. The meat-eating public. The fact of the matter is: vegetarians are better cooks. Now I’m not claiming that I, myself am a culinary genius, so don’t challenge me to a cook off or anything macho. I’m speaking more…in general terms.

Vegetarians are more creative when it comes to cooking. Perhaps it’s because there are fewer ingredients to cook with. Or perhaps it’s true. Vegetarians are just better at everything, including cooking. Ok, so I made the latter part of that sentence up, but the first fact stands. A narrow list of ingredients forces a chef to be creative. Meatchefs (I hope this word catches on), on the other hand… just add chicken.

For example. What do meatchefs use to add flavor to everything from meat, potatoes, soup, bread, casseroles, mixed vegetables, and cardboard if given the chance? The answer: animal stock. A substance most commonly made from beef, chicken and veal bones. Mmm.

When truly, I don’t have much of a problem with meatchefs. They can go on leading their boring little culinary lives, while I’ll enjoy a feast of vegetarian flavors. What really upsets me, is when a meatchef starts murdering vegetables.

There’s nothing so obvious, as when a traditional meatchef attempts to make a vegetarian dish. A perfect example of this is at the Sour Dough Place at 821 N. Division. This might be Spokane’s epicenter for meatchefs who try to cook with vegetables.

I recently tried their cheesy cauliflower soup. Although the sourdough bread bowl was rather good, the soup tasted like liquefied Cheez Wiz combined with water and a few cauliflower florets. Silly meatchefs, you can’t just throw vegetables into a tub of water and call it soup.

Side note: I used the word meatchef seven times in this blog post. I’ve done my part. Now it’s up to you, the general public to make it catch on.

My boyfriend is continually guilty of what I call BWI. Baking while intoxicated. I realize this might be a familiar or unusual phenomenon to you, but in my household (consisting of just me, my boyfriend and my cat) it’s a familiar occurrence. Needless to say, the cat is rarely guilty.

For what appears to be no particular reason, my boyfriend’s favorite BWI treat is muffins. His latest culinary adventure included a standard blueberry muffin mix, cinnamon, powdered sugar, bananas and craisins.

Now I’ll admit, I wasn’t an innocent bystander; and I didn’t exactly discourage his enthusiasm for smothering those poor little muffins. Rather, this time around I was a cheerleader. Aimlessly searching through our cupboards, we couldn’t wait to see what we could add next. Luckily, the ingredients ran at last dry with the craisins.

Now muffin assembly is easy. Flop in bowl and stir. The actual baking part is where it gets tricky. I told my boyfriend time and time again (as intoxicated people are hard of hearing) about the knife test. According to my mother and bakers the world over, if you poke a knife into the muffin and it comes out clean, as in no batter or crumbs on the knife, the muffins are ready.

Unfortunately my chaperon’s eye grew weary, and I left him to finish the muffins alone. And finish them he did. Every single muffin… of about 14. Overall the muffins didn’t turn out half bad, a little gooey in the center but all in all it was an impressive accomplishment given his state. I truly don’t mind BWI-ing, with supervision so long as the recipes don’t get too intense. The day he tries to make cheesecake, is the day we’re over.

Slimy vegetables make me feel like a failure. I know I sound like a stupid cow, but seriously. Every time I see a goopy onion, wrinkled carrot or black potato in my fridge, it’s like a slap in the face. It makes me ashamed to say I’m a vegetarian, much less claim that I cook my own food. I just… never seem to eat all my vegetables before they go bad.

This, my friends, makes me angry. First, rotten vegetables stink. Whether they’re inside your fridge, garbage, or compost, the slightest whiff is bound to cause fainting, dry-heaving, vomiting or all of the above. Secondly, I hate to be wasteful. I already feel guilty for living in America, living in a fuel-based economy and participating in capitalism. The last thing I need is a rotten eggplant on my conscious.

Finally, I hate to waste money. I’m lucky I can afford to buy expensive organic produce (I cut corners elsewhere), so why do I essentially throw my money away? I mean, it’s not like the economy or job market will help me out once I’ve thrown out all my spoiled food. So what you ask, or don’t ask, is the cultrate? Two things.

I don’t finish my vegetables because a: processed food like salsa and tortilla chips lurk about my cupboards and b: hiding food in the so-called “vegetable door” of my fridge makes me forget that I have it. Case solved. I’ll burn my cupboards and tear apart my fridge. If only the president-elects’ stimulus proposal for the economy could work this easily.

Being the veggie tale (my pet name for vegetarians) that I am, I was excited to finally eat at P.F. Chang’s China Bistro. I’ve heard from countless vegetable lovers that the vegetarian menu is wonderful. Not wanting to dine alone, I drug a friend along for the ride. What we discovered was a somewhat friendly wait staff and somewhat edible food.

To make matters worse, our waitress seemed to ignore us. Perhaps it was because I was wearing a paint-stained sweatshirt, or perhaps it was because we ordered one meal to split between the two of us (we’re cheap and poor, a deadly combo). Regardless of the reasons, we felt snubbed. We literally waited more than a half hour to get our coconut-curry vegetables and tofu.

I wish I could say the wait was worth it. This dish was reasonably priced, only $8, it was just the curry that spoiled it. Unlike a more traditional, thick curry paste, what adorned these vegetables tasted like the left over juice in a fruit cup. It was simply too tangy and too watery. Although my friend liked the dish, I ended up eating only brown rice.

Luckily two good things came from the evening. First, our waitress took pity on us for waiting so long and brought us free dessert in a shot glass. Sadly, the only thing the dessert was missing was alcohol. Even better than the dessert is the fact that one drunken night I climb on top the giant horse that sits outside the restaurant. You may have taken my time and money this time, P.F. Chang, but I still rode your horse.

See also: Pee at P.F. Chang’s.

“Editor”’s note: This is the first update from new contributor, Jordy. That’s right. We’re like a collective.

I thank God, Allah, or whoever you might worship that Thanksgiving Day is done and over with. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I don’t dislike the perfectly fabricated tale about the first colonists and the Native Americans. And I am thankful for what’s come and gone from my life over the years. What I really don’t like about Thanksgiving, what really get under my skin, is the inevitable conversation I share with all of my acquaintances.

Person A: “So you’re a vegetarian right?”

Jordy: “Yeah that’s right.”

Person A: “So uh…(awkward pause, slight chuckle) what did you eat?”

Jordy: “Dead gerbils. You?”

OK, so I might have fabricated the last part of that theoretical conversation; but the fact of the matter is, just because I don’t eat meat, doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy food, eating or the holidays in general. Not all, if any, vegetarians are calorie, fat, and cholesterol hating monsters. I love Thanksgiving dinner. I eat mashed potatoes, stuffing (outside the turkey), cranberries and pie smothered in gravy (vegetable stock), just like everyone else. Mine and my family’s holiday was not ruined or any less because of my lack of meat consumption. So stop smugly asking me what I ate Person A, and any other theoretical conservationist that might come my way. I will proudly step off my soap box now.

Cider Glazed Vegetables

• 900g mixture of carrots, sweet potato, broccoli, cauliflower, green onions
• 1250ml cider or apple juice
• 100g brown sugar
• 50g margarine (vegan or butter)
• ½ tsp ground nutmeg
• ½ tsp ground allspice
• 75g cranberries to taste

Lightly steam the vegetables until part cooked. Combine the cider, sugar, margarine, nutmeg and spices in a non-stick saucepan and bring to the boil, stirring frequently. Add steamed vegetables and simmer for 5 minutes or until vegetables are tender.