Healthy Food

Thursday, February 10, 2011

Veggie Might: Lazy Weekend Gluten-free Pancakes

Penned by the effervescent Leigh, Veggie Might is a weekly Thursday column about the wide world of Vegetarianism.

Pancakes are the food of lazy weekend mornings with loved ones, be they boyfriends, friend-friends, or family. Breakfast, or more specifically, brunch, is the best meal of the day because lazy weekend mornings are the best time to be awake.

Brunch in New York is like church. Everyone has their preferred house of worship, and weekly attendance is compulsory. Congregants line up out front, no matter the weather, to say their prayers to the gods of maple syrup and challah bread.

After years of serving eucharist at one of Manhattan's most popular temples, I relish every Saturday and Sunday morning I get to have a leisurely breakfast at home. I'm nondenominational brunch eater, and I like to worship in my pajamas. Plus, it's way cheaper that way.

My pal and fellow brunch altergirl, Miss T is newly gluten-free. She recently spent the night at my pad, and the next morning, she, my boyfriend, and I contemplated venturing out for brunch. I told her about the whole wheat pancakes I'd been making for CB, and she wondered if I could come up with a gluten-free version for her.

"Sure," I said. "Let's try it now." Miss T was all smiles and agreement. Church bells were ringing.

We donned our aprons and cleared a space on the table. Starting with a recipe from The Joy of Vegan Baking, I had futzed around until I came up with a whole-wheat pancake that satisfied CB's morning sweet tooth and my fiber requirement. Making them gluten-free was as easy as substituting the wheat flours for a combination of chick pea, brown rice, and quinoa flours. We had a smashing success.

The alterna-flour gluten-free pancakes came out light, fluffy, and golden-brown—just like the wheat version. Miss T and I were so proud of our pancake improv. We looked to CB, our resident pancake connoisseur, for final judgment.

"Pancakes are just a vehicle for maple syrup and butter," he said. "These have the right texture, which is the important thing. They're good."

We took his praise with gratitude and laughter. These delicious, gluten-free vessels of maple and joy are worthy of lazy weekends and those you love.

~~~~

If this recipes warms your cockles, you may also enjoy:

~~~

Lazy Weekend Gluten-free Pancakes
3 servings
Adapted from The Joy of Vegan Baking

1/2 cup chick pea flour
1/4 cup brown rice flour
1/4 cup quinoa flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
2 tablespoon safflower oil (half for mix and half for cooking)
1 cup nondairy milk (I used almond)

1. Preheat oven to 200 degrees.

2. Combine dry ingredients in a medium mixing bowl or 4-cup measuring cup. Stir in 1 tablespoon of oil and milk until combined but don't overmix. It's okay if there are some tiny lumps.

3. Heat a small amount of oil in a cast iron or other heavy-bottomed skillet over medium heat. Spoon or pour batter into 3" to 4" pools in the skillet. Cook until bubbles form in the batter.

4. With a plastic or silicone turner, flip pancakes and cook for another 2 to 3 minutes or until golden brown. Place pancakes on an oven-safe plate and keep warm in oven until all pancakes are ready. Repeat step 3 until you've used up the batter. The number of pancakes will depend on how big you make them.

5. Serve with your favorite toppings, like vegan butter and maple syrup, and enjoy with those you love.

Approximate Calories, Fat, Fiber, Protein, and Price per Serving
249 calories, 12g fat, 5g fiber, 6.3g protein, $.56

Note: Substituting 1 tablespoon of cooking oil with high-heat cooking spray will reduce calories to 209 and fat to 7g per serving. You can also substitute the quinoa flour for something a touch cheaper, like sorghum flour, to reduce cost.

Calculations
1/2 cup chick pea flour: 220 calories, 4g fat, 10g fiber, 12g protein, $0.32
1/4 cup brown rice flour: 130 calories, 1g fat, 2g fiber, 3g protein, $0.15
1/4 cup quinoa flour: 110 calories, 1.5g fat, 2g fiber, 4g protein, $0.50
1 tablespoon baking powder: 6 calories, 0g fat, 0g fiber, 0g protein, $0.06
2 tablespoon safflower oil: 240 calories, 28g fat, 0g fiber, 0g protein, $0.16
1 cup almond milk: 40 calories, 3g fat, 1g fiber, 1g protein, $0.50
TOTALS: 746 calories, 35.5g fat, 15g fiber, 19 protein, $1.69
PER SERVING (TOTALS/3): 249 calories, 12g fat, 5g fiber, 6.3g protein, $.56

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Cheap Healthy Good and the Triangle of Compromise

A few weeks ago, I was having dinner with a friend who works with computers. After our fries were finished, we started talking about his job. “Here’s the thing,” he said, “and I think it happens with a lot of different occupations. When you work with clients, they want your work to be quick, cheap, and thorough. And you kind of have to tell them to pick two.”

“Why can’t they expect all three?” I wondered.

He phrased his response carefully. “Well, you have other clients who demand your time. And competition is always pretty fierce.” He sipped his Guinness. “And it’s kind of the natural order of things, you know?”

“Explain.”

“Um, well. Think of it like this: If they want it done fast and cheap, the standard of work isn’t going to be very high. If they want it done fast and right, they’re going to have to fork over money for the extra manpower. And if they want it done cheap and right, it’s gonna take awhile.”

"Like a triangle."

"Yep."

“So getting all three is impossible?”

He shook his head. “Nope. You can get a little of everything if you’re willing to compromise. It’s kind of that sweet spot in the middle.”

“But getting people to compromise is tough.”

“Always.”

I nodded. The triangle idea made sense in a work context. And, when I though about it, it started to make sense in other contexts, too. “You know, it’s kind of like finding a New York apartment, except the parameters change a little.”

“Okay." More Guinness. "Go on."

“If you want a place that’s cheap and in a great neighborhood, it’s going to be a rat-infested hellhole.”

“Like your old place.”

“Right,” I continued. “And let’s say you have kids, and you want a place that’s cheap and nice. It’s going to be a gabillion miles from any subway stop. That’s why all our friends end up in Jersey.”

He finished my thought: "And you have to be making Derek Jeter-caliber money to live in a nice place in a good neighborhood."

"Right. Jeez. That guy."

Later that night, I tried to apply the idea to Cheap Healthy Good. And it got harder. Because here's the thing:

People say you can buy cheap and healthy food, but it won't taste any good.
People say you can buy delicious, healthy food, but it will cost a bagillion dollars.
People say you can buy cheap, delicious food, but it will give you ten successive heart attacks.

I disagree with all of those conclusions. Like my friend, I believe that compromise is key to maintaining balance between the cheap, the healthy, and the good. I believe this is possible:

Paying a little more will get you healthier, scrumptious-ier food. Adding a little butter won't cost you much, and will keep food from tasting like lawn scraps. And actually preparing it yourself – not a ten-course State dinner, but y'know, a casserole – will cost less and give you a good chance of making it into your 80s.

(Of course, adding "time" or "effort" into the equation would be a logical extrapolation of this theory, but it turns the 2D drawing into a much-harder-to-understand 3D pyramid, which would simultaneously blow my mind and tax my pitifully scanty knowledge of graphic design to its breaking point, so we'll ignore it for now and get back to ruminating.)

So there you have it. The CHG Triangle of Compromise. It's exists to remind us of three things:

We need not engage in extreme, black-and-white thinking when it comes to eating inexpensively, healthfully, and well.
Compromise is the key to eating inexpensively, healthfully, and well.
I am bad at Photoshop.

Readers, what think you? If you have any geometrically-based theories, I'd love to hear 'em.

~~~

Like this? You'll love:

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Green Kitchen: Roasted Sunchokes and Broccoli

Green Kitchen is a bi-weekly column about nutritious, inexpensive, and ethical food and cooking. It's penned by the lovely Jaime Green.

Ever since The Glorious Return of Gas to My Oven, I have been making good use of my fully functional kitchen. I've been boiling water on the stovetop for tea, marvelling at how quickly the kettle whistles. I've roasted a chicken (you know, what with eating meat again). I've baked two versions of Chickpea Cake and even broiled salmon when my fish-allergic boyfriend was out of the house. But my favorite thing to do, the thing I missed most in my oven's time off, is to roast broccoli.

I am a full believer in the power of oil, salt, and high heat to transform almost any vegetable into a delicacy. Sauteed Brussels sprouts, roasted root vegetables or cauliflower, even oven-roasted kale – these methods all move their produce from tasty enough healthy choices to mouth-watering heaven, as if heaven is a thing you eat. And broccoli perhaps benefits from this treatment best.

This is a variation on Ina Garten's recipe, which I learned by way of The Amateur Gourmet (where it is called, accurately, The Best Broccoli of Your Life). It is rich and hearty, a little sweet from caramelized edges, good and salty from... salt. It's also super easy – you toss broccoli with salt and oil and throw it in the oven. Set it and forget it, basically. And then, after all that zero hard work, you get something amazingly, addictively delicious that is also, lest we forget, broccoli.

This weekend I took my dear broccoli to a new level, by way of a little greenmarket ~~desperation~~ curiosity. While strolling through with my friend J. for eggs, onions, and heavy cream (my new obsession) – the only good things to find in a February farmers market – I saw something intriguing between the onions and ten kinds of potatoes: Jerusalem Artichokes. They are neither Israeli nor artichokes, but rather knobby little roots that I conveniently – thank you for writing seasonal recipes, fellow foodbloggers – had read about just a few days before. (You can swing by that very Mark's Daily Apple post for more history of the sunchoke, and a couple more recipe ideas.)

Let's see. Roasted sunchokes, roasted broccoli. Creamy and nutty, toothsome and savory. Roasted, roasted. In my fridge, in my fridge. It obviously took a great feat of culinary inspiration and general genius for this combination to be conceived. (Thanks for sending me to college, mom!)

Note: Make sure to dry your broccoli and sunchokes THOROUGHLY. I'd even recommend not washing the broccoli. It's going to be in a hot oven for a long time – anything bad on there's gonna get killed, and anything that doesn't get killed in the oven is some sort of superpowerful freak germ that was going to get you anyway.

~~~

If this looks nice, you'll surely appreciate:

~~~

Roasted Sunchokes and Broccoli
Serves 4
Adapted from Ina Garten/The Amateur Gourmet and Mark's Daily Apple.

1 ½ lb broccoli (about 5 cups of florets)
1 lb sunchokes (about 4 cups sliced)
2 T olive oil, divided
salt to taste

1) Preheat oven to 400. Line two baking sheets with aluminum foil.

2) Chop broccoli into florets. (Put the stems aside for another use.) Toss in a large bowl with 1 T oil and a sprinkle of salt. Spread in a single layer on one baking sheet. Sprinkle with a little more salt if you like.

3) Slice or quarter sunchoked into relatively uniformly sized chunks, a little less than an inch thick. Toss in your large bowl with the remaining 1 T of oil and a sprinkle of salt. Spread on a single layer on the other baking sheet, ideally with each piece lying flat on a cut side (for optimal browning).

4) Cook broccoli and sunchokes for 30-40 minutes, until golden brown (or a little darker). Half-way through, swap them between the top and bottom racks, and stir/move around the veggies, adding salt if desired.

Approximate Calories, Fat, Fiber, Protein, and Cost Per Serving:
211 calories, 7.5g fat, 5.4g fiber, 6.2g protein, $1.41

Calculations:
5 cups broccoli: 155 calories, 1.7g fat, 11.8g fiber, 12.8g protein, $3.00
4 cups sunchokes: 438 calories, 0.1g fat, 9.6g fiber, 12g protein, $2.50
2 T olive oil: 252 calories, 28g fat, 0g fiber, 0g protein, $0.12
1 t salt: 0 calories, 0g fat, 0g fiber, 0g protein, $0.02
TOTALS: 845 calories, 29.7g fat, 21.4g fiber, 24.8g protein, $5.64
PER SERVING (TOTALS/4): 211 calories, 7.5g fat, 5.4g fiber, 6.2g protein, $1.41

Ask the Internet: Organizing Lids?

Today's question comes from the heartland (Brooklyn):

Q: I just moved, and while I love the new place, there isn't enough room in my cabinets for the thousands of glass, plastic, and metal lids I've somehow amassed over the years. All of them belong to useful pans and casserole dishes, but I need help organizing them. We're not allowed to anchor shelves in the walls, but we do have plenty of floor space. Any ideas?

A: Readers, this one is all you. Help!

Want to ask the interweb a question? Post one in the comment section, or write to Cheaphealthygood@gmail.com. Then, tune in next Tuesday for an answer/several answers from the good people of the World Wide Net.

Monday, February 7, 2011

Monkey Bars: A Recipe of Love and Bananas

Happy Day After the Super Bowl, everyone! Congratulations to the team in yellow pants hailing from that cold, mid-northern U.S. city! You know – the one with no cheerleaders and the beloved player with long hair. Those guys are great.

With football stuff over, we can now concentrate on the important stuff – namely, stuffing our beloveds with rich foodstuffs until they puke affection. (Also: stuff.) Yep, Valentine's Day is once again zeroing in on the fortresses of our fondness, like a pink-tinted love bomb filled with Hallmark cards, Red Envelope lockets, and smooching. Oh, the smooching.

This year, instead of magnums of Veuve Clicquot and coconut-filled truffles with little nibbles in the bottom (otherwise, how do you find out if they're coconut?), I'd like to suggest some Monkey Bars. They don’t sound as romantic, no. But get this: They're 18 cents each and taste like banana bread. Plus, if you cut them in little heart shapes, your ingenuity will totally obscure that you just spent less than a quarter on a Valentine's Day gift.

A hugely popular recipe from Cooking Light, the Monkey Bar's greatest asset is that it can be adapted way easily. I added some cinnamon and nutmeg, substituted pecans for walnuts, swapped out half of the butter for 2% yogurt, and left off the powdered sugar. I still liked it. Following the initial recipe will undoubtedly net you similarly tasty results.

Happy V-Day, my sweets. May your day be filled with happiness, your nights packed with joy, and your desserts … sexy? Yeah. Sexy.

~~~

If this looks rather tasty, you’ll probably enjoy consuming the following:

~~~

Monkey Bars
Serves 16
Adapted from Cooking Light.

1/2 cup raisins
1 1/2 tablespoons bourbon, dark rum, or apple juice
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup whole wheat flour
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup packed brown sugar
1/4 cup butter, softened (OR 2 tablespoons butter + 2 tablespoons 2% plain Greek Yogurt)
1/2 cup mashed ripe banana
3 tablespoons 1% milk or low-fat buttermilk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 large egg whites
1/3 cup chopped pecans or walnuts
Cooking spray
1 tablespoon powdered sugar (optional)

1. Preheat oven to 350°F degrees. Spray an 8x8 baking pan or 9-inch pie plate with cooking spray.

2. In a small microwaveable bowl, combine raisins and bourbon (or rum or apple juice – whatever you’re using). Stir. Nuke 60 seconds. Set aside.

3. In a mixing bowl, combine flours, cinnamon, baking powder, baking soda, nutmeg, and salt. Stir to combine.

4. To a separate bowl or stand mixer, mix brown sugar and butter on medium speed until well combined. Add banana, milk, vanilla, and eggs. Mix until combined. Slowly add dry ingredients until all are just incorporated into a wet batter. Stir in raisins and nuts. Pour into baking pan.

5. Bake 30 minutes. Remove and cool fully on a wire rack. Dust with powdered sugar, if desired.

Approximate Calories, Fat, Fiber, Protein, and Price Per Serving
135 calories, 4.7 g fat, 0.9 g fiber, 2 g protein, $0.18

NOTE: All nutritional calculations are from Cooking Light. Price numbers are listed below.

Calculations
1/2 cup raisins: $0.44
1 1/2 tablespoons bourbon, dark rum, or apple juice: $0.24
1/2 cup all-purpose flour: $0.05
1/2 cup whole wheat flour: $0.11
1 teaspoon cinnamon: $0.02
1/2 teaspoon baking powder: $0.01
1/2 teaspoon baking soda: $0.01
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg: $0.01
1/4 teaspoon salt: $0.01
3/4 cup packed brown sugar: $0.45
1/4 cup butter, softened (OR 2 tablespoons butter + 2 tablespoons 2% plain Greek Yogurt): $0.12
1/2 cup mashed ripe banana: $0.33
3 tablespoons 1% milk or low-fat buttermilk: $0.06
1 teaspoon vanilla extract: $0.10
2 large egg whites: $0.25
1/3 cup chopped pecans or walnuts: $0.66
Cooking spray: $0.03
1 tablespoon powdered sugar (optional): $0.03
TOTAL: $2.93
PER SERVING (TOTAL/16): $0.18

Saturday, February 5, 2011

Saturday Throwback: Classy Parties on the Cheap

Every Saturday (well, most Saturdays), we post a piece from the CHG archives. Today's comes from May 2008.

The Boyfriend and I are expecting a few friends for a Mothers Day barbecue this weekend. Normally, when our buds gather in any significant number, it’s not a problem. Cheap beer, two dozen Nathan’s Famous, and a token pack of veggie burgers are enough to keep the circle pretty sated. This time, however, our MOMS are among the invited. They’ve never met, and my Ma only rarely visits the outer boroughs (“Why would I want to go back to a place our family spent three generations trying to leave?”), so it’s morphed from Modest Backyard Hootenanny to Actual Adult Gathering.

As such, we’ve had to strategize. And I’m not talking, “Let’s see, we need 18 forks. Maybe.” I’m talking, “This document lists the recipe for every dish we’re making, along with ingredients, scheduled oven-time, and appropriate serving plate.” It’s a tad obsessive, and I’m pretty sure the architects of most major World War II campaigns would be like, “Chick crazy,” but it saves me cash and provides a little variety beyond the rote one-two punch of potato and macaroni salad. (Which both contain mayo and should thusly be killed.)

To help others impress their own friends and family members, here are a few tricks I picked up while planning/researching my own small-to-mid-sized bashes. Really, it’s a whole strategy, and hopefully, it’ll keep costs down, provide some healthy alternatives, and save an aneurysm or two.

Alas, I am far (oh, so very far) from an expert on this stuff, so I’d love to hear recommendations from readers. Together, we can create the ultimate party: a 50-person Lobster Thermidore and champagne celebration for under $1.50, total.

Consider a potluck and/or BYOB. This simple, age-old idea provides tons of variety for all kinds of diets, prevents the hostess from having a nervous breakdown, and ensures that a larger gathering won’t put the mortgage payments in danger. While it may not be suitable for some occasions, I did potluck it for a smaller baby shower last year, and it seemed to work well. If you decide against it …

Send out invites/Evites early. Three to four weeks before the par-tay is a good timeframe to shoot for, since it allows you to plan a menu, schedule preparations, and start stockpiling sales items early. Plus, you can always follow it up with a “Hey! It would be awesome if everybody could RSVP!” email two weeks prior to the event. Which leads us to …

Get an approximate headcount. This will give you a rough idea of how many folks you have to feed and supply with utensils, as well as the dietary restrictions (vegetarians, pregnant people, lacto-ovo-graino-arians, etc.) you might need to account for. From this, you can start devising your plan of attack.

Figure out the food numbers. Based on the number of guests, how much food should you serve? This is my guideline:

2 meats per carnivore. (We know a lot of vegetarians.)
3-5 large side dishes. (No meat added, for said 'tarians.)
a few bags of basic snacks
a few bottles of seltzer and/or soda
a few homemade dips and salsas
a crudite platter
hors d’oeuvres: cheese, crackers, fruit, etc.
2-3 alcoholic drinks per person (bottle of wine = 4-5 drinks)
cookies and dessert-type offerings for later

Other folks have very, very different systems, and those can be found in places like this. Or this. Or even this.

Read Frugal Menu Ideas for a Fussy Crowd. This was one of the first Wednesday articles here on CHG, and I’m reviving it just for today. Inside, there are quite a few ideas for feeding a large, picky crew inexpensively. Suggestions are totally welcomed.

Create a menu as soon as possible. Based on in-season produce, affordable staples, and what you have lying around the house, make up a list of dishes you’d want to eat at a good gathering. Think about incorporating a few make-ahead sides (to save yourself some stress on Shindig Day) and try to base at least half around fruits, vegetables, or grains, which are usually cheaper and healthier. To wow folks with your cooking skillz, you might even play with classics like green, fruit, and pasta salads by adding creative flourishes or funky, inexpensive dressings. They can make simple foods (and thus, the barbecue) that much more memorable. (Oh, and store-bought dishes are fine, but this is a food blog, see. I gotta represent for the cooks.)

Based on your menu, make up a grocery list. This one’s pretty simple: what do you need that you don’t already have on-hand? Don't forget to account for decorations or staples like condiments, ice, and charcoal.

Start looking for sales. Depending on how far in advance you’ve planned, there’s a good possibility you can snag nearly everything on sale. Start checking local circulars as soon as you have your grocery list, and jump on good discounts. If your party is happening on a holiday, odds are lots of related products will be offered at a markdown, anyway. (Be careful of buying produce too far ahead, though. Some of that stuff rots, but quick.)

Buy decent alcohol en masse. While deeply beloved for all kinds of reasons, classy gatherings may not be the place for Schlitz and Alabama Slammers. On the other hand, $40 bottles of Veuve Cliquot are out of the question for most people (read: everyone) I know. There’s a nice compromise here, though, which is buying a nice stock of middle-of-the-road alcohol at a beer distributor, discount store (a la Trader Joe’s), or wholesale depot. Some supermarkets offer decent sales, as well, so be on the lookout. Oo! And don’t discount a BYOB policy, either. Contingent on the fanciness level of the party, I don’t think it’s uncouth to ask folks to bring a bottle of wine if they’ll be quaffing.

Make a schedule. You see this in magazines all the time. Starting a few days ahead of the get-together, create a step-by-step calendar of STD. (Uh, meaning “Stuff to Do.”) (On second thought, not such a good acronym.) It might look something like:

WEDNESDAY: final grocery shopping
THURSDAY: clean, make dips, make iPod mix
FRIDAY: make cookies and pasta salad, start defrosting meat
SATURDAY: cut crudite veggies, make salad and dressings, decorate, set tables
SUNDAY A.M.: make fruit salad, chill beverages, marinate chicken
SUNDAY P.M.: relax, have double-shot of expensive tequila

Assembling this should accomplish two things: 1) keep you from buying expensive, last-minute fillers and 2) ease your mind about when/where/how things will get done. For reference, there are some other neato schedule examples here and here.

Consider eschewing paper plates and plastic forks. This may be absolutely ludicrous for larger bashes, but for a home-hosted barbecue for ten, it could work. Simply, using your china will save cash, not to mention the environment.

Clean. While it has zero to do with food, if there’s one thing Ma has instilled in me since birth (besides a deep and terrible love of puns), it’s this: people will not give a flying doo-doo about the quality of your turkey burgers if they’re forced to eat in a hovel. Does that sound terribly old-fashioned? You bet. But I’ve done my time at frat parties, and there comes an age where pee stains and dust no longer count as decoration.

Don’t go crazy. It’s easy to drive yourself insane preparing for a nice-n-mature party, but just remember: these things are supposed to be fun. If you’re already clenching your jaw pondering the preparation, try reducing the previous tips to these three: plan ahead, look for bargains, and clean a little. See? Easy peasy.

And that’s it. Readers? You got anything to say? Bring!