Philly tofu steak

So what that I've drastically reduced my meat consumption and I now know more about preparing tofu than any mortal really should. That hasn't changed the fact that I still harbor a faint skepticism of the culture that surrounds vegetarianism. It hints at a certain fussiness--a wish to call attention to oneself for the things one doesn't do, instead of all the exciting things one gleefully undertakes. Another part of me knows that's just snobby crap and has happily exploited the carne deficit in my life to become really good at preparing delectable vegetable dishes (Want to know the secret? It's roasting pretty much everything).

Well, dinner at a vegan restaurant in Philadelphia last weekend pretty much put to rest my ambivalence about meatless eating. Horizons has the trappings you'd expect of a vegan place, including the funky decor. But the food was-- phenomenal.

To start, we ordered flaky empanadas filled with hearts of palm & truffle cream, and a fragrant edamame hummus paired with black sesame crackers. For the entrees, we tried grilled tofu with ginger lime butter, hearts of palm paella, and portabella kebabs. A sassy salt-rimmed margaritini with agave, lime and a little wheel of jalopeno was the perfect liquid accompaniment. It was all so scrumptious I briefly thought about moving to Philly. The money we save in rent could go straight to Horizons.

I've concluded that cooking minus meat can, in the right hands, be a little like writing formal poetry. Constraints that at first seem frustrating can actually lead to wonderful, unexpected results, e.g. edamame hummus.

----

Okay, I've just about had it with winter. With all the hard snow and ice on the ground, the bus ride to campus today was slow, and all the passengers in big puffy jackets jostled around like irritable planets tossed out of orbit. What I need right now is summer, and if that's not possible, then a poem about summer tomatoes. This one by Neruda praises the the simple romance of cooking supper as the guests arrive.

From "Ode to Tomatoes"

we
pour
oil,
essential
child of the olive,
onto its halved hemispheres,
pepper
adds
its fragrance,
salt, its magnetism;
it is the wedding
of the day,
parsley
hoists
its flag,
potatoes
bubble vigorously,
the aroma
of the roast
knocks
at the door,
it's time!
come on!