Goodbye, Grassroots Cafe


While we weren’t looking, Grassroots Cafe has Closed. Located just around the block from our new flat, it was someplace we’d walk to even from the old flat. We haven’t been in a few months, because we’ve been busy packing and moving. Then, in talking to a friend this last week, learned that it had gone.

It wasn’t the absolute best restaurant – not in Glasgow, and certainly not in our food experience (Napa Valley, Marin County, San Francisco, etc.). But it was a decent little vegetarian restaurant, and would certainly have been convenient to us now!

Goodbye, Grassroots Cafe. We’ll celebrate T’s successes elsewhere.

Macaroni and Cauliflower with Cheese

One of the things about getting an organic vegetable box delivered is that you never really know what you’re going to end up with. At least, that’s the case in California. In the UK … you’re pretty much guaranteed to get a few root vegetables and a cauliflower. I don’t know why, but cauliflower just keeps on coming. We’ve grown tired of eating it in soups, and in salads, so I hunted about online for something to do with it, arriving with cauliflower gratin. The idea of that much cauliflower, though, with just cheese … well, it didn’t seem to be complete. Hence:

Macaroni and Cauliflower with Cheese

  • 2 Cups Cauliflower, cooked, boiled, drained, without salt
  • 1 oz Cheese, cheddar
  • 2 oz Cheese, edam
  • 300 grams Macaroni, dry, enriched
  • 1 tsp Mustard, prepared, yellow
  • 2 Tbsp Oil, olive
  • 1 cup Onions, raw
  • 1 tsp Salt
  • 1 cup Soymilk, unsweetened
  • 1/2 tsp pepper, black
  • 1/2 tsp pepper, red or cayenne
  • 2 Tbsp Wheat flour
  • 1 slice Bread
  1. Boil cauliflower until just tender.
  2. Bathe in cold water, while retaining the boiling water.
  3. Put macaroni noodles into cauliflower water and boil until just done.
  4. Drain, retaining 1 cup of the cauliflower / pasta water.
  5. Add oil and onion to your pot.
  6. Sauté onion until just tender, without browning.
  7. Add in your flour and spices, mixing until it comes together into a light rioux.
  8. Remove from heat and add pasta water and soymilk, mixing until it comes together into a sauce.
  9. Mix in grated cheeses, retaining some for the top.
  10. In a food processor (or with your hands), break up your slice of bread into find crumbs.
  11. Place pasta & cauliflower mixture into a medium baking dish.
  12. Top with remaining cheese, then with bread crumbs.
  13. Bake at 350°F / 160°C until brown on top.

For those of you who are into that kind of thing, full nutrition information found at NutritionData.com.

Cooking in Chaos


This afternoon, rather than continue to slog through unpacking, we went to Sea Woo. This involved a bus to the City Center Centre, followed by a bus into Possil Park.

Sea Woo is a truly wondrous place, full of all manner of things Asian (and a good selection of Polish foods, as well). What we were there for, though, were some staples: tofu, ripe vegetables, Mae Ploy sauce, Thai curry paste – you know, everything that one needs for actual spicy, Asian-style cooking. Plus vegetarian pot-stickers and spring-rolls. But those were just extra, really. It’s not like we go there just for those. At all. Much.


After our 2-hour trip there & back, T. whipped up some Szechuan style tofu (while I broke out the laser-level to hang the mirror/coat-rack thing). Cooking, here, will be a bit of an adventure for awhile, I’m afraid. But … we have a better kitchen than we’ve had for a few years, with far more storage and workspace than we’ve been making do with. Eventually we’ll have everything unpacked and organized, and will be able to really get back into cooking!

I wonder if we ought to color eggs for Easter this year….

Packing the Kitchen

When we first came to Scotland, we had far more kitchen things than we do now. Actually, we had far more of everything than we do now — clothes, towels, table linens. What we’re feeling at the moment is the distinct lack of large tablecloths. In our previous lives, we often had T’s family over for holidays and meals, and used big brocaded cloths and sets of napkins. When we packed for Scotland, we kept lots of these things with the idea that we’d have tons of guests over, and used them on the way over as padding for our glassware. Well, when we realized that we were very unlikely to 1.) encounter a table large enough to need the tablecloths (and dozens of matching napkins), and 2.) ever have crowds of guests who needed all of our bath towels, we took them home to T’s mom, who made sure they found homes where they were needed… and she took the tablecloths herself. She’s enjoying them. We’re missing them, simply because we’re struggling to find things in which to wrap our glassware!



Shown here is one of the worst desserts ever encountered (at Culzean Castle). Stale, pink marshmallow types of things* studded with maraschino cherries in a white chocolate and cheesecake* filling on a graham cracker crumb-ish* crust. Fortunately, neither one of us had the misfortune of trying to eat this. Be sure to read about Culzean Castle over at Hobbits Abroad, if you’re interested in a more detailed “what we’ve been up to.” For now, that’s it. Back to packing!

Note: Marshmallows in the UK are NOT the same as marshmallows in the U.S. They’re …leathery; our friend Jessica couldn’t get her teeth through them. We believe these marshmallows contain either egg whites, and/or have a much higher gelatin content. We’re told they’re also usually berry flavored.

Secondly, cheesecake in the UK is vastly different from cheesecake in the U.S.. It’s made of creamed cheese and double cream — which is at minimum 48% milkfat! That’s like adding butter to the whole thing. You can’t even get double cream with that milkfat content in the U.S. (at a specialty store it’s only 40% – the FDA is concerned you’ll kill yourself, apparently… Ever heard of clotted cream? It’s a whopping fifty-five percent milkfat… you know the FDA doesn’t want you to have that!). Heavy whipping cream has only 36% of fat! Anyway, cheesecake here is obviously extremely rich and sets up firmly.

Finally – graham crackers don’t exist here; the crust was made of what’s called a digestive biscuit, which is sort of a gingersnap type of thing, sans ginger. Jessica said the crust was like sugared sand, and she was desperate to get it off of her lips. One bite, and the whole thing fell apart. It could have been quite tasty for someone, but alas, ’twas quite stale. Oh, well. Eating strange food at castle coffee shops is part of the adventure!

Taking Seconds: Booja Who?

What good is being a weirdo vegetarian if you’re not trying tons of weird food? Thought I’d give it a shot, and see if it was worth taking seconds.

Product: Booja Booja Organic Chocolates. One tiny box.


I am not a chocoholic.

Just wanted to get that out there to begin with. Not. A. Chocoholic. I don’t buy the chocolate-is-like-hot-gooey-love, all-girls-are-addicted tripe. It’s just a confection. Some of it is really good. And some of it is pretty craptastic.

I’m also not a fan of… fancy. One of the things I hate, hate, hate about being a vegetarian or practicing-home-vegan (which is my name for it at the moment) is that everything is so… complicated for some people. Fancy. Requiring frequent visits to specialty stores, outlays of cash, and hard-to find ingredients. Satisfying the single most important human urge, for nourishment, should be a lot simpler than some people make it. So, when D. brought home this raw vegan organic fancy-pants-gold-edges-special chocolate truffle, I let it sit on the counter for a couple of days. Um, actually, for a week.


See: Me, not a chocoholic. Also see: Me, not a fan of fancy. And so.

In the realm of chocolate, to me, dark is best, 70% cocoa + is even better. This was dark. This was right. Even pre-home-vegan, I didn’t care for milk chocolate (but I’d be interested to hear what people who enjoy the newly discovered vegan milk chocolate bars have to say. Soy milk+chocolate seems an obvious one; odd this doesn’t seem largely available), but this was gloriously dark, and even the box was black, so that wasn’t the issue. I didn’t really know what the issue was, so after a week of moving this tiny cute box around, I finally decided it was time to actually eat the contents. And so. I studied it.

Raw Ecuadorian chocolate? Seriously?

I love the phrase “award-winning.” What does that actually mean? Who came up with these awards?

And it’s not like I haven’t nibbled on cacao nibs, but raw? WHY DOES IT HAVE TO BE RAW? Chocolate isn’t cooked. It isn’t ever cooked. It’s just tempered, like it has to be, in order to have any sort of solidity. So, why was this some “raw food” foodie thing?


Eventually I realized I was stalling. I opened the box and examined the truffle-y looking square. It looked normal enough. It smelled like regular… cooked chocolate, or whatever. So I took a nibble.

Ecuadorian chocolate is intense. It’s acidic, bold and powerful, and if you’re a chocolophile who is like those coffee and wine people, you could probably go on about the notes of citrus and hazel and deep smoky bass drums and the screeches of the parrots in the rainforest. All I could say was, “Mmprhgh!”

Strong. Dark. Luxurious. The cocoa furring the sides is outright bitter, an unsweetened coating to affront the tastebuds and make the mouth involuntarily water. As your teeth sink into the filling, which is delectably soft, rich, and fragrant, the bitterness takes a backseat to the more complex notes of coconut. This plain dark truffle is impeccably balanced between bitter and sweet, subtle and stated. I began to see the awards making sense.

There are tons of people with opinions about how to eat dark chocolate truffles best — a rich red wine or heavy port; champagne; beer, which …just boggles the mind, but someone may well comment and defend that one; a rich, nutty cheese like a fresh brie, a washed rind Taleggio, or simple Edam — you can pair these truffles with all manner of things. I immediately thought of coconut, ginger, then Bosc pears when I had my first bite. Something fresh and mildly sweet would do very nicely to mingle with the acidic richness, and then clear the palette.

Imagine my glee to discover that Boja Boja makes raspberry truffles. Ooh.


The one thing that intrigued me the most about this whole truffle eating experience, though, is the one thing I didn’t notice. The raw. The vegan. The whole Big Deal Special Foodie-ness of it all. It was just… chocolate. Very, very good chocolate, yes, don’t get me wrong, but it tasted …like chocolate normally made. That’s probably a good thing. No grittiness. Nothing… weird. Just chocolate. Anyone could eat this.

Of course, the kicker is even if you fear the fat, you probably should indulge in a raw cacao treat every once in awhile. The raw cacao/chocolate bean has the same antioxidant power of a basket of blueberries, which means it is very good for you. Since the Boja Boja truffles don’t strangle the product with tons of sugar and heat, it’s a pretty safe bet that you actually get some of the health benefits of the cacao this way. And since it’s really quite tasty — intensely flavored so you don’t want to overdo, this is definitely an all around winner. Good thing there’s two in the package — that’s just enough for second helpings.

Pico de Gallo


One thing about living abroad is that you’ll quickly discover that some of your favorite foods simply don’t exist, or exist in a way which is … well, just truly wrong, odd, scary, or disgusting. One of those things, for us, is Pico de Gallo. We’ve written about it before (twice), probably because it’s become something of an obsession with us.

We tend to go through a jar in about a week … or maybe in about four days, depending on whether we have pinto beans in the fridge or not. If there are beans (and even these odd white beans will do), then the salsa really goes quickly.

One of those things about doing the same recipe over and over again is that it tends to get better – you tend to perfect the amount of Thai Bird chiles (5, this time), and the amount of lime juice to vinegar (3 limes, 1 Tbsp vinegar). It all just … comes together. The other thing about cooking the same thing is that your mind tends to wander, and you tend to think about things, or at least I tend to. If it’s not obsessing about school, it’ll be some strange echo of a thought, and I’ll not know why it’s there until I go and look it up, and then … wonder why it’s there. This time, it was the phrase Salsa Criolla. Why this would be echoing about in my brain, I don’t know, but T. looked it up for me to find that it’s an Argentine version of a Creole sauce (see Asado Argentina for the recipe and background).


Now, I went to school in Argentina, but they weren’t very big on meat there (the school and neighboring town were vegetarian). I can’t figure out where or why I’d know about Salsa Criolla, but the memory of the phrase lingers. I can hear it pronounced as an Argentine would, and not just any Argentine: an Argentine from Entre Ríos.

My subconscious is right to remember the salsa, no doubt: aside from the addition of chiles, a salsa criolla is just a pico de gallo. And I’ll bet that it, too, is highly addictive.

Baking through Chaos




Yes, we have been baking lately. We’re also planning a move, doing research, and revising a novel right now. So, not much will be coming out here, as far as creative recipes go, nor as crafty things go, either.

The new oven, here, only holds two loaves of bread. We made bread Tuesday, and while it was rising, we made banana bread – a double batch. And T. added some coriander seed, cardamom, brown sugar, lemon juice, and Oatley Cream to some of the bread and rolled it all up. Thus, we had five things waiting for the oven, and only room for two loaves at a time. You’ll note that the loaves are mightily raised above the edge of the pan? That’s what not having enough oven space will give you, and it’s a good thing! They’re light, chewy, delightful, and not overrisen at all. It makes me wonder how long we’ve been underraising our bread.

More to come, as we get the chance. About three weeks ’til we move, and we haven’t started packing, so it’s going to be pretty quiet around here.

Piquant Pico II



Because yes, we did eat all that Pico de Gallo in just a few days. We tried to make a greater quantity of it this time, in the hopes that it’ll last us through the week. I don’t hold out great hope, however, as this stuff is simply too addictive!

This time, we roasted the peppers and the tomatoes. If you have decent (i.e., not British) tomatoes, then you can probably skip the roasting of them. These babies, though, were truly British tomatoes, meaning that they had a fair degree of crunch to them. Yep – crunch. Think … overripe, yellow apple and you’ve got the level of crunch.

Just so you’ll have it (and so we’ll remember it), here’s the recipe for a truly fabulous Pico de Gallo:



Pico de Gallo

  • 3 large bell peppers, preferably orange or yellow
  • 10 medium tomatoes
  • 3 large cloves garlic
  • 2 large yellow onions
  • 5 Thai Bird chiles
  • 1 small lime
  • 2 Tbsp lemon juice
  • 2 Tbsp white vinegar
  • 1 Tbsp juice from cauliflower pickles
  • 20 grinds black pepper (see note)
  1. Roast your peppers until they are charred and black looking. Get them as black as possible, as this will make things much easier later.
  2. Tuck them into a covered dish, to sweat for a while.
  3. Roast your tomatoes until the skins pop, making sure you’ve roasted the whole thing. The idea isn’t to blacken, but to loosen the skin. You could blanch them, if you prefer.
  4. Put the roasted tomatoes in with the peppers, and begin prepping your other ingredients.
  5. Finely dice 1.5 of your onions, reserving any large chunks (i.e., near the bulb end where it’s difficult to slice).
  6. Peel your garlic cloves.
  7. Now, revisit your peppers and tomatoes, removing their stems, skins, seeds, and any rough bits from the tomatoes (that central vein is rather annoying sometimes, and difficult to chew).
  8. Put your garlic, 1/2 of one of the onions (plus any extra bits), one of the roasted peppers, 3 of the tomatoes, your Thai Bird chiles, and your juices (including the lime) into a food processor. Puree this until smooth.
  9. Finely chop the remaining 2 bell peppers, and 7 tomatoes.
  10. Mix it all up, grind the pepper over it, and put it in a jar.
  11. Let sit for a day or so, if you can stand to, and it’ll get even better.

Note: “Black pepper,” this week, consists of about 75% true Black Pepper from Sri Lanka, 20% Sichuan Chinese pepper (a.k.a., bird pepper, which was illegal in the US until 1995), and 5% allspice berries.

Sweet Rolls and Technicalities

Since we had no oat bran, and no whole oats, we were feeling a bit at a loss this past week: we’d have to make … ordinary bread. Yes, OK, it’s fine to have plain old bread every now and again. I suppose. If we have to.

Fortunately for me, T. was willing to jump in with a filling for sweet rolls:


  • Lemon Zest
  • Almonds, chopped
  • Vanilla
  • Brown Sugar
  • Raisins
  • Dates, chopped
  • Cinnamon
  • Nutmeg
  • Cloves

Now, you’ll notice that there aren’t any quantities. That’s ’cause this really is one of those things which was simply thrown together, rolled up, sliced into 9 rounds, and baked. Delicious!


I wanted to let you know that we’re undergoing a few technical changes in our feed distribution. We’ve offered our blog via email for some time, but it’s kind of buried over on the side panel. We’ve finally decided to route everything through FeedBurner (they were purchased by Google, after all, and since Google also owns Blogspot it seemed a natural thing to do). Thus, we can now be found at:

This should hopefully work out nicely, so that you can receive our content however makes you happiest.

Piquant Pico

Occasionally, the taste buds get bored.

Oh, sure, you can have your lovely, light, chewy loaves of bread, and your fragrant basmati rice steaming away. You can have your light pancakes and rich cream sauces. But sometimes… you just long for the freshness of summer — roasted vegetables, fajitas, crisp, fresh watermelon, juicy nectarines.

But, alas, at the moment you’re in Scotland. Where it snowed again this week. Twice.

You’ve already started pickling things. It might be time to take it one step further… into pico de gallo-land.

Salsa picada, salsa mexicana — whatever you’ve grown up calling it, pico de gallo, which literally means “beak of rooster” is a sharp, chunky, colorful sauce that goes well as a sort of spicy relish with meat or on top of beans with a bit of sour cream, wrapped into a soft taco. The base ingredients match the colors of the Mexican flag — red, white and green. Tomatoes, onions, and chilies.

That’s just a place to start, of course. When your tastebuds are bored, you can jump off and find yourself in a number of places. Desire is an imprecise map. This is the path we took and we ended up happy.

We started our pico with fire-roasted bell-peppers, mainly because for some people, bell peppers are inedible without the skin removed. The charring gives peppers a smoky sweetness and removes the bitterness that sometimes lingers when they’re sauteéd, and because frankly — pyromania is fun. (Wear sleeves that are tight to your wrists, please. And don’t set the house on fire. You can try this using an electric burner, but don’t touch the pepper to the metal, or it’ll stick. And for goodness sakes, don’t hold it in your hand..!) This time of year, we don’t have too many tomatoes around, so we stretch what we have by using red and yellow bells.

And so, to roast them: with a pair of long metal tongs, take a washed bell pepper, turn on the smallest burner on your gas stove and set the pepper atop it, directly atop the burner. At intervals — mainly when the skin you can see is blistered and blackened — turn the pepper with the tongs. Finito. That’s it. Depending on the size of the pepper and the thickness of the pepper-flesh, this will take between five and ten minutes, five minute per side. You might want to run the fan, since the skin kind of makes the house smell like an illegal recreational drug, I’m told. It just smells kind of rank in the beginning of the process, but then the sweetness of the pepper comes through, and it smells like… fajitas. *sigh*

Don’t be afraid to really roast your peppers — don’t fear the charring, people. Black, black, black is what you’re looking for. Check out this picture from Vegan Yum Yum to see what I mean. Or try it under the broiler. (I should have taken pictures of this stage of the game, but I didn’t remember that people might not know how to do this without a barbecue grill.)

While your peppers are charring, take one large, mild, yellow onion — a mild and sweet Walla Walla would do nicely — and chop it finely. We smashed three cloves of garlic and minced them as well. Place your onion and garlic into a reaction proof bowl. Deseed and chop six large tomatoes (or, in our case, four medium tomatoes and a bunch of wee cherry tomatoes that were left over from a salad) and add to the melee. Carefully mince and add one or two chillies of your choice. We used three Thai bird chillies — which are extremely long and thin and red and pack a punch. You might want to use serranos or jalapeños — after all, that will give you the green for the flag. You could roast these peppers as well, but we chose not to — Thai bird chillies are searingly hot, and roasting a chili pepper simply ups the capsicum level. Since we also added several big grinds of black pepper to this mix and have three cloves of garlic in there too, we didn’t need that kind of firepower. This time.


You can do a ton of things with fire roasted peppers — from a tasty tapanade to just tossing them with capers and green olives and a drizzle of lemon juice and olive oil in capellini — there are myriad options. Right now, though, it’s time to skin them.

If your peppers look irrevocably burnt and inedible, it’s a good sign they’ve charred enough. Drop them into a plastic bag, and leave them to steam gently for about five minutes. You can also use a paper bag. The peppers will have deflated and gone soft and quite moist. You’ll need to rub them with a dry towel to begin to remove the skin — they’ll be cooled some, but not all the way, so be careful. Use a dampened paper towel to wash away the black bits, but leaving some doesn’t hurt. Cut out the core — the stem and the seeds — and mince.

We added two tablespoons of lemon juice and a tablespoon of vinegar, a handful of snipped chives, and freshly ground pepper to taste. If we’d had any on hand, we would also have added about four tablespoons of freshly minced cilantro — or what’s known as coriander here, but the basic recipe is just tomatoes, onions and chilies, so you use what you’ve got. We left this mixture jarred on the counter overnight, so that the flavors had time to mingle in room temperature, and then refrigerated the next day.

It is so tasty, and can be used in tacos and burritos or on nachos — or in the same way that you would use a chutney. Conversely, you could just eat it loaded onto chips with guacamole…. While eating a whole bunch will give you onion breath for awhile, it’s so worth it.