Guys, it is beautiful outside today. Beautiful! This time of year is marked by the most stunning sunrises—the sky streaked and splashed with colors that call to mind words like apricot and persimmon. In contrast, the sunsets are muted and calm, the tops of the trees bathed in straw-colored light as the surface of the water just beyond our street reflects the sky above: all soft cotton candy pinks and delicate lilacs.
As I stood in the kitchen, dripping wet from my morning swim, I noticed clusters of tiny purple flowers all around the lawn outside, as if they’d sprung up overnight. A bird stood stock-still at the edge of the raised beds, the light catching its feathers, turning its chest from inky blue to irridescent blue (I think it’s a common grackle, but I’m no ornithologist so don’t quote me. I just, you know, dabble.).
It’s been wickedly windy for the past few days. At night, I can hear the halyards slapping against the masts of the boats in the marina.
But it’s finally quieted down, and the calm is welcome. The surface of the bay was like glass this morning as I ended my run and stood to catch my breath, my arms aching. (Why didn’t anyone ever mention how difficult running with a baby in a jogging stroller is? Much harder than it looks! But it’s an excellent two-for-one arms-and-cardio workout. Plus, you get to smooch your baby straight on his adorable wet mouth whenever you need a break.)
Today we are going to do the following:
-Make a quiche [the crust dough—ratio of 3 cups flour-1 cup butter-enough ice water to hold—has been chilling in the fridge overnight]
-Go visit the dogs in our neighbor’s yard [one of us, not mentioning any names or anything, will coo and giggle and try to touch their noses]
-Cook the leftover rutagaba waffle batter [more on that below]
-Call the organic pest company, as every spring—like clockwork—our kitchen is overrun with tiny black ants. They always disappear after a few weeks of warm weather, but still I want to shout at them: I did not invite you guys over for lunch.
-Decide on a book to read tonight. I’ve neglected reading for a few months now but enough is enough. It’s one of the nicest ways to fall asleep, so I’m choosing between My Year Abroad by Chang-Rae Lee, Here is the Beehive by Sarah Crossman, A Burning by Megha Majumdar, White Ivy by Susie Yang, The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V. E. Schwab, and The Heart’s Invisible Furies by John Boyne. Clearly, I have to get down to business.
Last night I made the waffles I mentioned above—and here’s how and why:
My husband walked out of the farm store last weekend with dried pasta, green tahini, and two rutabagas. Ooookay, I thought. Weird choice. They “looked cool” apparently, so I set about turning them into dinner. I had an open can of chickpeas, so I pulsed the rutabaga in the food processor, turning in into the texture of cauliflower rice. I added the chickpeas, a big pinch of salt, olive oil, hawaij spice (I get mine from La Boîte), buckwheat flour, and enough water to make a thick but pourable batter.
I cooked it in the waffle iron, which kept the inside soft but turned the outside a crispy dark brown.
I poured a sauce of tomatoes, coconut milk, garam masala, cashew butter, ginger, and garlic over the top—and that was that: a bizarre but sort of incredible dinner.
For dinner, we might have pesto pasta with wilted kale. Or, black bean tacos with chili-lime yogurt sauce. Or, a new go-to, creamy vegan pasta with vegetables (usually broccoli because I love broccoli).
Since our household is half vegan, half team-cheese-and-butter-and-eggs, I’m always looking for recipes that bridge the gap. By this I mean, a recipe that doesn’t feel austere or lacking, even if it happens to be vegan. This one does exactly that, plus it doesn’t call for any unusual ingredients* and you can make it with any vegetables you have lying around.
*I don’t consider nutritional yeast an unusual ingredient because I put it on everything and you should to. Sorry, but it’s true. Do it. Now. Go buy some. Seriously!
If you love cheese, add cheese! A shower of freshly grated Parmesan never made anything worse, as far as I can tell.
Note: Sometimes I add a few splashes of white wine to the dish along after cooking the shallots and garlic, and this is very good but not essential.
Creamy Vegan Broccoli Pasta
Serves 2 to 4
4 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1 head broccoli, chopped roughly
1 pound dried pasta
2 shallots, minced
2 cloves garlic, minced
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
2 cups unsweetened almond milk
4 tablespoons nutritional yeast
1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar
salt and pepper, to taste
Preheat the oven to 425 degrees F. Toss the broccoli in 2 tablespoons of olive oil and roast for about 20 minutes. (You can also just sauté or steam the broccoli, but I like the flavor of it roasted best.)
Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add the pasta and cook until a minute or two shy of al dente. Drain and set aside.
In a large high-sided skillet, heat the olive oil until shimmering then add the shallots and garlic. Cook, stirring occasionally, over medium heat until fragrant—about 3 minutes. Season with salt and pepper.
Add the flour and whisk to combine, cooking for about 2 minutes, whisking constantly.
Slowly stream in a little bit of almond milk, whisking rapidly to prevent lumps from forming. Add the rest of the almond milk, the nutritional yeast, and a bit more salt and pepper—whisk well until smooth.
Keep cooking until the sauce starts to thicken slightly.
Remove from the heat and stir in the apple cider vinegar.
Add the cooked pasta and the broccoli and stir to combine. If you need, add a splash of water and heat slightly to bring it all together—the sauce should be thick but also glossy.
Serve hot.