Cookbook Challenge #16: Saying that tofu-stuffed celery is tastier than it sounds is keeping the bar pretty low

I’ve adulted so hard this month, it’s hard to believe it’s even me. This time of year is always super-busy, and having a soon-to-be-high-school-graduate around makes it even busier. Prom was one the many Covid casualties for the Class of 2021, so I (for some unknown reason) thought it would be a fine idea to host a semi-formal dinner dance in the backyard for Anna and a handful of her graduating, fully-vaccinated friends.

And you know what? It WAS a fine idea. Everyone looked lovely and a good time was had by all, and an event that should have been a memorable milestone turned out to be one after all. I’m kinda proud of that. Of course, combining party prep with all the other things going on – including 2 not-unexpected but still very sad funerals – plus work stuff means that there hasn’t been a lot of recreational writing going on. No matter.

Here is an appetizer for times when you need to look fancy-schmancy but you’re also really busy or it’s hot as hell or you just don’t want to do a lot of work, and you have to feed a group with all sorts of food issues and thinking about it is overwhelming. It’s tofu-based, which will shock anyone who knows me, but it fed the gluten-free, the dairy-free, and the vegans, and even the omnivores thought it was tasty and never would have guessed it wasn’t loaded with cheesy goodness.

The celery prep sounds a little fussy but it was really nice; you could also just use this as dip with crackers or cut vegetables, obviously, and I think it would make a nice mayo alternative on a veggie sandwich.

Happy snacking!

From Cocktail Food by Mary Corpening Barber, Sara Corpening Whiteford, and Lori Lyn Narlock. I was initially a little put off by the cutesy names (ironic, coming from me on this blog) but after trying the tofu I’m definitely interested in trying more of these recipes. It’s definitely earned its space on the bookshelf.

Tofu-Stuffed Celery

8 oz. extra-firm tofu, patted dry
¼ cup fresh basil
1 Tbsp fresh dill
1 Tbsp olive oil
1 Tbsp lemon juice
½ teaspoon minced garlic
4 tsp kosher salt
¼ tsp black pepper
Celery stalks, for serving; or cut-up veggies, crackers, etc.

 Put everything in the food processor and blend until creamy. The original recipe has you chopping the herbs in advance, but I see no point in this when the machine will do all the work just fine. Process it a little longer than you think strictly necessary to make sure it’s extra-creamy.

Trim the ends of the celery stalk, then peel a thin strip off the length of it. This will make the celery lay flat on a serving platter once it’s stuffed and is well worth the effort. Cut the celery stalks on the diagonal into 1-inch lengths, then blanch in salted water for 1 minute. Drain and run under cold water or put in an ice water bath; when the celery is cool, pat it dry with paper towels and put it in the refrigerator to get cold again.

Spoon a teaspoon or so of the tofu mixture onto the celery. Feel free to garnish with little teeny sprigs of dill if you’re feeling like a purist; or arrange them in some kind of symmetrical pinwheel pattern if you have too much time on your hands, or whatever. The dip keeps for a couple of days in the fridge – possibly longer, but we ate it all before we could verify this.

 

 

Road Trip Waffles are the Stuff of Childhood Memories

 I love road trips.

Ask anyone who grew up in the 1970s about family vacations and you’ll hear some shared themes: getting stuck sitting in the middle, one leg spraddled on either side of the transmission hump; playing the license plate game; facing backwards in the far rear “seat” of the station wagon; being at the mercy of the radio wherever you were. None of this fancy-schmancy mini-van life with on-demand DVDs, personal electronics, and comfort. Road trips in the 70s were a character-building experience.

I spent a lot of time building character with my aunt Alice and cousin Jacqueline, roaming the country in a wood-sided station wagon hauling a pop-up camper. A lot of our trips were to amusement parks in Ohio; my aunt was a thrill-seeker and adored roller coasters. One of my earlier memories involves her hauling my definitely-not-a-thrill-seeker mom onto The Beast by the straps of her stylish overalls romper. We went to Florida. We visited the relatives in Kansas. There was an epic multi-week adventure to Texas that is the stuff of family legends.

There were a few constants in these trips that were specific to Aunt Alice. The first was Bisquick waffles, baked to absolute perfection on a beast of a waffle iron, at least 25 pounds of cast-iron plates and heat-conducive plastic handles and iffy wiring. It was the only place I’d ever seen waffles outside of a restaurant, and to this day the smell makes me feel like I’m at a campground. It had enormous square plates divided into quarters, so it was easier to split the waffles up as they came out; I can’t even imagine how much batter you would need to actually cover the entire plate, but never in my life have I seen a square waffle come out of one of these. David and I spent a summer trolling garage sales to find the same waffle iron; our lightweight, enclosed-hinge, Teflon-coated modern one just didn’t do the same job. I think of Aunt Alice every time we use it.

The second constant was hyper-competitive games of Boggle. I had a pretty good vocabulary as a kid, but I don’t do well under pressure. My dream in life was to beat my aunt at one of these games we played, crowded around the tiny pop-up dining table by lantern light. (I never did. It is, however, one of the few games I can reliably beat my kids at.)

And finally – awfully – there was the dummy. Yes, an actual ventriloquist’s dummy, a horrible, creepy, staring ventriloquist’s dummy. I don’t know what compelled my cousin to decide that ventriloquism was a skill her pre-teen self needed to learn, but I spent many, many hours being creeped out by that damn thing. And I surely don’t know what compelled my aunt to put it in the pop-up camper before our trips, or what made her think it was funny to make the dummy look up my nightgown. As a kid, it made me cry. As an adult, I’m 100% sure that – terrorizing me aside – it was probably one of the funniest nights of my life, because my aunt was hilarious. My mom laughed until she cried. I would give a lot to have one of those flickery home movies of whatever the night’s monologue was.

The subject of the dummy came up at her husband’s funeral a few years ago. I commented that I remembered the waffles and the Boggle and the constant stream of Elvis tunes and yes, the dummy.

“Do you want it?” she asked eagerly.

“God no. You’ve entirely missed the point of the story if you think I want that thing.”

She laughed then, her distinct wheezing smoker’s laugh, the one that made her eyes crinkle shut and her whole body shake, and slapped my shoulder lightly.

“I’m cleaning out the house. You can have it.”

“I really, truly, honestly don’t want it. Please.”

“You can have it!”

My aunt’s sense of humor being what it is, I wouldn’t be even a tiny bit surprised if she left it to me in her will.

Last week we said goodbye to her for the last time. A lifetime of smoking caught up to her, and she passed away peacefully in her sleep at my cousin’s house, where she spent the last 7 months of her life being pampered and taken out to lunch and made much of, and where her amazing sense of humor was very much appreciated. I wasn’t close to her as an adult, but my childhood was shaped by memories of our trips together.

We don’t eat Bisquick waffles, what with the gluten and all, but waffles are actually pretty easy to make from scratch. You could knock together a batch in under 5 minutes, easily. If you wish to think ahead a little bit because you’re paying tribute to some of the best memories of your childhood, you can’t do any better than overnight waffles. I believe this is originally a Fannie Farmer recipe, but it’s taken here from Mark Bittman’s How to Cook Everything. He’s absolutely correct in saying that these need to stay in the iron a bit longer than the indicator light wants them to; wait until there is almost no steam coming out of the iron for the crispiest, creamiest, best possible version of these. They absolutely must be served with Bob Evans link sausages and warmed syrup.

Overnight Waffles

½ tsp instant yeast
2 cups GF flour blend of your choice
1 Tbsp sugar
½ tsp salt
2 cups milk
8 tablespoons (yes, a whole stick) of butter, melted and cooled
½ tsp vanilla extract
2 eggs

Before going to bed, combine the dry ingredients. Stir in the milk, butter, and vanilla. Cover with plastic wrap and set aside overnight.

While the waffle iron heats, separate the eggs. Stir the yolks into the batter. Beat the whites until they hold soft peaks, then fold into the batter.

Make sure the iron is very hot and oil it well (spray oil is good here) before ladling batter onto the cooking plate. Ignore the indicator light and let the waffle cook until the steam stops almost completely.