Meatless Meals

I’m giving up meat for Lent.

I’ve done that once before, but with less than perfect results. A few years ago, I realized that I was eating an inordinate amount of meat. It wasn’t on purpose, but it just grew into a habit. Every time I made a sandwich for my husband, Mike, I’d have a few slices of turkey, ham or whatever I was using. I would give my daughter a ham roll as part of a snack, and I’d end up eating two, three or more, loathe as I am to admit it. My default nibble at night seemed to always come out of the deli drawer of the fridge, or sliced off a leftover dinner roast, and a single slice or chunk of chicken would never do.

So I quit, cold turkey.

However, I didn’t “do it” right. After about two weeks, I found myself wandering aimlessly in the beef department of the supermarket – and I never buy beef – in a fugue state: I didn’t know how I got there or what I was doing, but I could not feel my arms, legs or head, much less stagger out of there and into the checkout line. I was starving and seeing double, standing still, staring at the blood-soaked packages, not even knowing how much time had elapsed. I ate meat two days later, lapsed Catholic that I am. That, and I gulped down a massive quantity of iron supplements.

But I want to try it again this year and announced as much last week, after scoring a ton of sardines in various sauces that were on sale at the supermarket.

Well, after a stellar dinner of a gorgeous filet of wild Sockeye salmon last night, served with sweet vinegared rice, edamame and salad, Mike proclaimed he wanted to give up meat for Lent as well. “Let’s all give up meat this year!” He was really into it.

“I can’t do that with her,” I told Mike, motioning my head toward our 5-year-old daughter, who was scraping up the last flakes of fish from her plate, then negotiating the skin.

She knows where meat comes from, and last night she asked why we had to kill the fish. She often asks why the chicken died. I tell her “We make our choices,” and don’t have to eat it. She will agree, then think, then completely renege and say she wants the meat, then repeats and repeats that she wants the meat, psyching herself up for dinner. And that’s fine. I wouldn’t expect anything different. I’m glad she’s a good eater.

I further explained to Mike that I don’t really know the bean-rice-lentil combinations and quantities to create that elusive “complete protein” I always hear vegetarians talk about. I don’t eat pasta, but they do, so maybe this could work. I then recalled to him the fugue state I entered each time I went to the store starving and practically cross-eyed three years ago.

“I have confidence in you. We can do it,” he said [i.e. I can do it, prepare the food in balance, and keep the Lenten promise going …]

Maybe we can. We go meatless probably more often than most American families, with an ever-evolving repertoire of grains, beans and any invented combination thereof. It’s definitely easier in the summer, when our garden produces all the produce we need to feed the neighborhood.

I’ve also had my run-ins with supermarket meat. And until a lapse last year for which I received 113 lashes, I hadn’t purchased industrial beef since I can remember.

But I obviously purchase meat and fish. I like it to an extent, and my daughter, since starting solid food, almost always eats her meat first. She (and I) also love organ meats, from hearts to livers. Although I exceed her age by a high 30+ [ahem] years, she’ll out consume me, hands down, when it comes to the innards. I will be preparing protein in various forms for her during the Lenten season. I’ll enjoy making a little something special and different for her, and she’ll feel like a big deal.

In the end, Mike also pulled back a bit, requesting only meatless dinners. The lunches I make for him to take to work usually involve a turkey, ham or other type of sandwich [Italian hero is a favorite, loaded with Coppa], although not always.

But for now, I need to do more than lay in extra supplies of tinned fish for myself: research, recipes, shopping (I’m out of both polenta and wheat berries) and planning are on the menu before Ash Wednesday arrives on the 17th. Fresh fish is costly, and I can’t shoulder that as a nightly expense.

I also hope this will bring a new spark of creativity to my kitchen. I’ll keep you posted.

It’s A Cryin’ Shame Nobody Makes Things Like This Anymore.

It was the hit of Memorial Day: crab dip in the shape of a fish. Here is the recipe as given to me. I adjusted it, as seen below.


2 4-oz cans Bumble Bee baby shrimp, drained
2 8-oz packages of cream cheese, softened
1 10-3/4 oz can condensed tomato soup
2 pkgs Knox unflavored gelatin
½ cup warm water
1 cup chopped celery
1 cup chopped onion
1 cup Hellman’s mayonnaise (light or regular)

Dissolve gelatin in ¼ cup warm water. Heat tomato soup over low heat then blend in gelatin. Blend in cream cheese with a whisk or stick blender until creamy. Remove from heat, add mayo. Mix in celery, onion and shrimp. Pour into a mold that has been sprayed with Pam and refrigerate overnight.


I cut the recipe in half, but kept the protein quantity the same. I used two cans of crab instead of shrimp, added a generous tablespoon of lemon juice and a half-teaspoon of cayenne pepper to the final mix. Chop the vegetables very fine; use sweet or Vidalia onion, if available. Once unmolded, I dusted it with Old Bay seasoning.

Decoration included sliced olives and carrots chipped thin on a box grater for scales and fins. I’d fantasized about creating a layered fantail out of Italian parsley, but my sage plant is just so lush this year and full of new leaves. They looked great.

You could layer your “scales” or décor into the mold and spoon in the mixture carefully. Alternatively, decorate the unmolded shape the next day. I just knew I’d be short on time in the morning, and took care of things the night before.

The unmolding was, of course, ceremonious in my sister’s kitchen: My 4 year-old daughter ooohed and aahed. My sister raised an eyebrow, then cracked a smile and a laugh. I was proud in my own way, but let out a laugh too, then started in on the finishing touch of greenery. My brother-in-law dryly requested three colors of layered Jell-O for the 4th of July in the shape of an undulating flag. My mother looked at the fish and said, “Elise, you’re crazy.” But she’s the one who took the first taste.

What surprised me in the end was not just how little of the mold was left at the end of the day, but that no one ate the olive eyeball or cut off the head.

But that’s just me.

Maybe it’s because the fish stinks from the head.

Fish on Fridays II

In last week’s Fish on Fridays entry, I mentioned just finishing “On the Line: Inside the World of Le Bernardin.” I definitely had recipes from that book in mind for this week’s fish dish, but once at the fish counter, I didn’t see the types I was looking for. What did jump out was the sole. When in Rome.

To my recollection, there was not a lot of flat fish featured in “On the Line.” So once at home, I resurrected a nearly forgotten treasure, my Eric Ripert-signed copy of The Le Bernardin Cookbook. Copyright 1998 [my edition is 2001], you can really see the difference between what was produced at the restaurant – wow – 11 years ago versus what is done today: more classic French with a twist then, a lot of Asian influence now. And that’s to be expected. It’s evolution. Tastes and sensibilities change across all industries over both short and long periods of time. Trends, however, are hardly more apparent anywhere else than with food.

But the classics never die, and that’s the treatment I executed with the sole. The only additional ingredient I needed to pick up was the endive. Otherwise, everything else was on hand. And the “classics with a twist” spicing was surprising and ultimately a good departure. The spice combination is something I would put together again, perhaps in another dish. The coriander seeds, fresh ground in the mortar & pestle, were quite fragrant and once cooked, lemony. A harbinger of Spring.

Spice Sole with Braised Endive

For the Endive:
4 Endive, halved lengthwise
4T butter
sea salt & white pepper
ginger, coriander, cinnamon, sugar
chicken stock or canned broth
lemon juice

S&P the cut sides of the endive. Place cut sides down in a pan w/butter scattered atop. Sprinkle w/spice. Add stock and braise in 450 oven.

For the Sole:
4 6-oz gray or Boston sole fillets, skinned (I used 6 – I wanted leftovers)
star anise, coriander, ginger, all ground; pinch cayenne
sea salt & white pepper
corn oil, lemon juice, butter & parsley

Season skin side of fish fillets. Sauté seasoned side down, 2 mins. Add butter to pan & sauté further; remove from pan. Add remaining spice mixture & lemon to pan. S&P to taste. Pout over fish and serve w/endive overlapping.

[Copyright law restricts a full reprint of the recipe. This is a good appetizers-to-desserts book, which you could probably pick up online at less than my hardcover price. A nice addition to any collection, signed or not.]

If I can find Escolar (what they call white tuna), I’m doing the “On the Line” treatment. Red wine Béarnaise? I’ve got to try that. Maybe I’ll just get tuna steaks next week and give it a go. But where in the heck am I going to get sea beans?

Fish on Fridays

I feel I haven’t posted too many food entries lately, and that’s likely for two reasons:

- I’ve been starting seedlings and working in the yard more, preparing for the growing season.
- I realize I’ve been putting together a lot of workaday meals lately. You know the sort: thaw some bone-in chicken or the like the night before, broil it, add a veg, salad, complex carbohydrate. Serve leftovers the next night. Wet, lather, rinse, repeat.

Sure, we all do this from time to time. The meals are not uninspired, nor are they so plain. But sometimes we serve them to serve their purpose.

However, with the advent of Lent, it’s fish on Fridays. As an Italian-American, I grew up with that rule [nearly] every Friday. And we go meatless probably more often than most American families, with an ever-growing repertoire of grains, beans and any invented combination thereof. But with the Lent rule in place now, I’m feeling my cooking oats again.

Today’s Scallops in a Beurre Blanc

Dry white wine
Shallots, minced
1 pinch saffron (if desired)*
up to ½ stick unsalted butter
Plain yogurt (heavy cream is classically used in order to stabilize the sauce; you can use plain yogurt for tang if you’re careful not to break it.)
Sea salt & white pepper to taste
Juice of 1/2 lemon**

Butter or Olive Oil
1 lb Scallops dusted with fine flour
S & White P

Treat and combine the first six ingredients as you would for a beurre blanc; reduce. Add the lemon juice last. If it is reduced with the other liquids, I find the result to be too lemony. Season to taste.

Pan sear your scallops (bay or sea).

Finish with sauce. Garnish with fresh chopped parsley or chives and serve immediately.

It was delicious – and quick, as most fish dishes can be. It felt good to get my favorite glass-lidded sauté pan back in circulation, breathe in the steam of that simmering Sauv Blanc [with a glass for the cook, of course], manically chop and top with fresh parsley and serve with a flourish in its steaming, aromatic broth. Crusty bread is not optional, but mandatory here.

More adventures begin next week. I just finished “On the Line: Inside the World of Le Bernardin.”

*Note on saffron: I like it – not just for flavor, but for the creamy extra color it imparts. If you want to be generous with the saffron (and who doesn’t?), then go ahead – and try substituting Champagne for the wine. You won’t be disappointed.

**Note on lemon vs. white wine vinegar: This is a taste issue. The lemon is the acid in the sauce, as would be the vinegar. Depending on the fish, I could go either way. It depends on your audience.

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