Winter Minestrone

The color of springtime is in the flowers, the color of winter is in the imagination. ~Terri Guillemets

Where I live, the summers can be unbearable. We don't get snow, and, on the rare occasion it flurries, people will rush outside to stare in wonder, attempting to create a snowball out of the slushy stuff. What the heck, I do it, too, despite having spent my childhood and a small portion of my adulthood living in states where the weather was described by locals as *Winter and July*. I don't miss the snow much, but have to admit that new layer of white on the ground can be breathtakingly beautiful!

Despite the fact that where I live now, we can sometimes be found wearing shorts in the winter, those days that dip toward freezing invite a fire in the fireplace, curling up with nice hot cuppa and a good book, and something warm and yummy for the tummy.

Winter Minestrone

Olive oil
One onion, chopped
One large carrot, sliced
3 stalks celery, sliced
One turnip, peeled and diced
One rutabaga, peeled and diced
One bunch collards, rolled and sliced
Two cans diced tomatoes
One can garbanzo beans, drained
One can kidney beans, drained
One quart water
Salt and pepper to taste

Saute onion, carrot, celery, turnip, rutabaga and collards, until a little softenened and brightly colored. Add the tomatoes and beans. Pour in the water, bring to a boil, cover, reduce to simmer about 30 minutes. Season to taste.

This makes a very mild, but filling, soup in a very short time. Serve with a good bread for dipping and enjoy!

Before becoming vegan, I never ate turnips or rutabagas. No reason other than when I was eating a meat-based diet, there was little variety. We tended to stick to the tried and true, rather than seek out new and different foods to experience. Now I look for things I haven't tried. It has been like a new world of food has opened up to me! Sad, really, to make that realization. I watch non-vegans now, and how they are so hesitant to try new things. I don't mean exotic foods, I'm talking vegetables, like okra or turnips or fennel or eggplant. As for me and mine, we savor each new dish, each new ingredient, finding varieties of ways to use them - and are having a blast doing it! Cooking has once again become an adventure, and never a chore.

A "true" root vegetable should meet two conditions: grow underground and play the role of a root for the plant, absorbing moisture and nutrients from the ground. The following vegetables are examples of true root vegetables: carrots, horseradish, radishes, rutabagas, parsnips, salsify, and turnips. They are actually the taproot of the plant, which is formed from the very first root that the seed put out.

Generally, though, the term is used for any underground part of a plant that we eat. Even though onions and leeks are both related, we would call an onion a root vegetable but not a leek, as leeks grow aboveground.

Root vegetables have never been very fashionable. Throughout history, they were largely seen as peasant food.

Before there was agriculture, there was the turnip. That’s how old the turnip is. Turnips were cultivated some 5,000 years ago and may have been eaten as long as 5,000 years before that. Turnips were as important to the Romans as potatoes were to the Incas. Believe it or not, the venerable tradition of the “Jack o’ Lantern” started out with turnips, not pumpkins.

All turnips have a snowy white flesh. The differences in varieties mostly involve outside coloring and size. Some have reddish rings around the crown of the vegetable, others purple. Flavors are essentially the same although larger turnips (3 or more inches in diameter) which appear later in the winter tend to be more pungent than the smaller (11/2 to 2 inches) turnips that appear earlier in the season. Major turnip varieties include Purple top, White Globe, White Egg, Golden Ball, Amber and Yellow Amberdeen.

A 3.5 ounce serving (100 grams) of turnips has 30 calories, 6 grams of carbohydrates, 1 gram each of protein and dietary fiber, 60% of the Daily Values (formerly the RDA) for vitamin C, 2% for iron and 3% for calcium. Turnips are also a fair source of potassium and folic acid.

The history of the rutabaga is much shorter, but a little livelier! In the early part of the 17th century, Swiss botanist Casper Bauhin crossed a cabbage with a turnip and got a rutabaga, sometimes called a yellow turnip. It became popular in northern Europe and, in fact, derives its name from the Swedish rotabagge. (Rutabagas are sometimes called swedes.) Rutabagas were adopted by the British in the early 1800s as economical cannonballs. Although they did not pack the same explosive force as cannonballs they made quite an impression. This practice was discontinued when the Brits noticed their foes cooking the spent rutabagas in their soups.

 
Instead of white flesh, rutabagas have a yellow-orange flesh that, like yellow-flesh potatoes, give an impression of richness or butteriness. They’re also sweeter and denser than turnips with less moisture. On the outside rutabagas are half yellow-orange, while the other half is burgundy or purple. To increase their shelf life, most rutabagas are waxed. Commercially available rutabagas tend to be larger than turnips. The three main rutabaga varieties are American Purple Top, Laurentian and the Thomson Strain of the Laurentian.

A 100 gram serving of rutabagas contains 46 calories, 11 grams of carbohydrates, 1 gram each of dietary fiber and protein, 11% of the DV for vitamin A, 43% for vitamin C, 6% for calcium and a small amount of iron. Rutabagas are also a decent source of potassium and folic acid.

The major turnip and rutabaga producing states are California, Colorado, Indiana, New Jersey, Ohio, Oregon, Texas and Washington. A significant amount of both is imported from Canada.
Both rutabagas and turnips are members of the mustard family. The good news is that because turnips and rutabagas are in the same family as cabbage and other cruciferous vegetables, they have many of the same health benefits, particularly as cancer fighters.

So do be sure to try turnips or rutabagas, and this minestrone is an easy way to do it!

This Stew Will Put a Spell On You!

I love stew. Always have. My mom would typically makes hers in a pressure cooker, and the smells permeating the house were heaven sent. I wanted something reminiscent of those days, so when I came upon this recipe, I had to make it.

Witch's Stew

Seitan, cut into chunks (I made my own, using the recipe from Seitan with Satan, more on that later!)
1-2 lbs. potatoes, chopped into quarters
5-6 large carrots, sliced
1 large onion, finely chopped
2 cloves of garlic, finally chopped
1 bag frozen peas
4 c. vegetable broth or stock
Olive oil
2 vegetable boullion cubes mixed with 2 c. boiling water
1 c. unbleached flour, mixed with 1 tbsp. onion powder and 1 tbsp. garlic powder
1/2 tbsp. thyme
1/2 tbsp. sage
1 c. unbleached flour, mixed with 2 tbsp soy sauce and 1 c. water (I actually used the leftover flour from above and the leftover broth from making seitan earlier)

1. Dredge seitan chunks in flour/onion powder/garlic powder mixture.
2. Heat olive oil in a Dutch oven over medium heat. Toss in seitan chunks and cook until heated through and slightly browned.
3. Add garlic and cook for 2 minutes.
4. Add vegetable broth, vegetable bouillon/boiled water mixture, potatoes, onions, and carrots. Allow to cook for at least 35-40 minutes, or until potatoes and carrots are mostly cooked through.
5. Add frozen peas, thyme, and sage and mix well. Add flour/soy sauce/water mixture slowly, and stir well - this thickens the stew. Allow to cook for 10-15 more minutes, or until peas are completely heated through.

I really liked the flavor of this, and didn't even add any salt or pepper to it.
 
I made my very first batch of seitan for this, rather than buying it premade from the store. It was remarkably easy, made the house smell divine, and came out pretty darned good, I thought, for my first attempt. I am definitely going to make my own seitan from now on.
 
I wondered about the history of stews, since they are not only popular now, but are often mentioned in different books I read, both fiction and non-fiction. It seems stews are mentioned  in the oldest cookbook known. There are recipes for lamb stews & fish stews in 'Apicius de re Coquinaria', whose identity is uncertain, there having been 3 Romans by that name in the period 1st century BC to 2nd century AD. The most famous and colorful of the three was M. Gavius Apicius, who taught haute cuisine under Tiberius and who legend has it exhausted a vast fortune on his lavish dinners, finally killing himself when his funds no longer permitted him to eat to his tastes.What is known is that the book has survived, and there are recipes for stews of lamb and fish in it. There is an English translation of Apicius for those so inclined.
 
There were also stew recipes by one Taillevent (French chef, 1310-1395 whose real name was Guillaume Tirel), who wrote Le Viandier, one of the oldest cookbooks in French. It mentions ragouts (ragoût), which is the French word for a main-dish stew.
 
There is archaeological evidence of practices going back 7,000 or 8,000 years or more of other cultures using shell of large mollusks, like clams, and turtle shells to boil foods in. And, no doubt the development of pottery, perhaps 10,000 years ago, made cooking even easier.
 
All I know is making stew is one of the easiest things to do and very flexible, ingredients-wise. So whip up a cauldron...er...pot of stew and enjoy!

When Irish Eyes Are Smiling, I Make Something Irish Sounding!

The temps are dropping again (thank you!) and Hallowe'en is here. My Celtic roots are calling and nothing helps soothe my soul than something that makes me think Irish!


Irish Vegetable Stew

1 yellow onion, chopped
1 garlic clove, chopped
1 t. caraway seeds
1/4 c. all-purpose flour
3 c. vegetable stock
1 bay leaf
1 t. dried thyme
3 medium carrots, sliced
5 medium potatoes, diced (I don't peel mine)
1 small head of cabbage, chopped
15 ounces canned cannellini beans, rinsed and drained

In a large pot, sauté the onion, garlic, and caraway seeds in a little olive oil until onions soften, about 5 minutes. Sprinkle about a 1/4 cup of flour over the onions and mix well to coat. Add the vegetable stock and stir until flour is dissolved. Add the bay leaf, thyme, potatoes, carrots, and cabbage. Cover and simmer for 15 minutes. Add the white beans and simmer for an additional 10 minutes, or until vegetables are soft. Add salt and black pepper to taste.

I served mine with a nice loaf of rye bread and some vegan butter to spread on it.

People often associate potatoes with the Irish, but potatoes really aren't native to the island. Archaeologists have found potato remains that date back to 500 B.C in the ancient ruins of Peru and Chile. The Incas grew and ate them and also worshipped them. They even buried potatoes with their dead! Seems somehow appropriate to serve them this close to Samhain! The Spanish conquistadors first encountered the potato when they went to Peru in 1532 in search of gold. Spanish explorer and conqueror, Gonzalo Jiminez de Quesada (1499-1579), took the potato to Spain in lieu of the gold he did not find.

The potato was carried on to Italy and England about 1585, to Belgium and Germany by 1587, to Austria about 1588, and to France around 1600. Wherever the potato was introduced, it was considered weird, poisonous, and downright evil. In France and elsewhere, the potato was accused of causing not only leprosy, but also syphilis, narcosis, scronfula, early death, sterillity, and rampant sexuality, and of destroying the soil where it grew. Parts of France thought it was so bad, they made it illegal to grow them!

An Irish legend says that ships of the Spanish Armada, wrecked off the Irish coast in 1588, were carrying potatoes and that some of them washed ashore. However, it is probably more likely that Sir Walter Raleigh (1552-1618), British explorer and historian known for his expeditions to the Americas, first brought the potato to Ireland and planted them at his Irish estate at Myrtle Grove, Youghal, near Cork, Ireland. Legend has it that he made a gift of the potato plant to Queen Elizabeth I (1533-1603). The local gentry were invited to a royal banquet featuring the potato in every course. Unfortunately, the cooks were uneducated in the matter of potatoes, tossed out the lumpy-looking tubers and brought to the royal table a dish of boiled stems and leaves (which are poisonous), which promptly made everyone deathly ill. The potatoes were then banned from court.

The potato was definitely getting a bad rap everywhere it was introduced!

Potatoes had been introduced to the United States several times throughout the 1600s. They were not widely grown for almost a century until 1719, when they were planted in Londonderry, New Hampshire, by Scotch-Irish immigrants, and from there spread across the nation.

The "Great Famine" or also called the "Great Starvation" in Ireland (or, in their language, an Gorta Mór, meaning "the Great Hunger or an Drochshaol, meaning "the bad times") was caused because the potato crop became diseased. The proximate cause disease commonly known as potato blight, or Phytophthora infestans. Although blight ravaged potato crops throughout Europe during the 1840s, the impact and human cost in Ireland—where a third of the population was entirely dependent on the potato for food—was exacerbated by a host of political, social and economic factors which remain the subject of historical debate.

In the 17th and 18th centuries, Irish Catholics had been prohibited by the penal laws from owning land, from leasing land; from voting, from holding political office; from living in a corporate town or within five miles of a corporate town, from obtaining education, from entering a profession, and from doing many other things that are necessary in order to succeed and prosper in life. The laws had largely been reformed by 1793. Starting in 1801, Ireland had been directly governed, under the Act of Union, as part of the United Kingdom. Executive power lay in the hands of the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland and Chief Secretary for Ireland, both of whom were appointed by the British government. During the 18th century a new system for managing the landlord's property was introduced in the form of the "middleman system". Rent collection was left in the hands of the landlords' agents, or middlemen. This assured the (usually Protestant) landlord of a regular income, and relieved them of any responsibility; the tenants however were then subject to exploitation through these middlemen. In 1845, 24% of all Irish tenant farms were of one to five acres in size, while 40% were of five to fifteen acres. Holdings were so small that only potatoes—no other crop—would suffice to feed a family. The British Government reported, shortly before the famine, that poverty was so widespread that one third of all Irish small holdings could not support their families, after paying their rent, except by earnings of seasonal migrant labour in England and Scotland.

At the height of the famine (around 1845), at least one million people died of starvation. This famine left many poverty stricken families with no choice but to struggle for survival or emigrate out of Ireland. Towns became deserted, and all the best shops closed because store owners were forced to emigrate due to the amount of unemployment. Over one and a half million people left Ireland for North America and Australia. Over just a few years, the population of Ireland dropped by one half, from about 9 million to little more than 4 million. The famine was a watershed in the history of Ireland. Its effects permanently changed the island's demographic, political and cultural landscape.

I do genealogy as a hobby, and learned that my Irish immigrant ancestors left Ireland before the Great Famine, arriving here in the United States in the 1820s. I've always wondered how the family they left behind fared.

Interestingly, as of 2001 the Irish were consuming more potatoes than most countries in the world.