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Kibbet Raheb: Lentil chard lemony soup with herb-burghul dumplings Serves 5 as Main Dishor 10 as Soup. This is the soup recipe as best I could remember, please keep in mind that most of these amounts are approximate (especially the dumplings). So use your cooking-sense and sorry for any inconvenience. This is normally served cold or at room temperature, and is better the next day. Dumplings c fine bulgur 1 c cup flour c cup onion finely chopped 1 T chopped mint 1/4 c chopped parsley Soup 1 c diced onions 1 T crushed Coriander seeds 1/3 c Brown lentils 1/3 c Fresh Lemon Juice (or to taste but this is supposed to be lemony) 10 large cloves of garlic chopped (or more if you like) 1/2 c chopped cilantro Make dumplings: Put Burghul in a bowl and add enough water to barely cover. Let soak for thirty minutes Meantime sauté the onion till translucent in some olive oil. Let cool. Add the flour, onions, herbs to the burghul and mix. Add more water or flour to the mixture if needed. You need a soft dough like mixture. Season with salt and pepper. Form the dumplings into small marble size pieces, put them on a large baking sheet and refrigerate until ready to use. You need about 24 dumplings. For the soup: In a large heavy pot saute the onions in 2-3 Tbsp of olive oil till soft and translucent. Do not let it brown. Add the crushed Coriander and cook for one more minute stirring constantly. Add the lentils and half of the chopped garlic and cook for a couple more minutes so that everything is mixed up properly. Add the chopped chard and mix it in then cover everything with about 3 inches of water. Bring to a boil, season with Salt and pepper and let simmer till the lentils are almost done. Add the dumplings and continue cooking till the dumplings are cooked through, about 30 more minutes (they will almost double in size and have no raw flour taste when done). Add more water if the soup is too thick and chunky. Saute the rest of the garlic in 1 Table spoon of olive oil till soft, add the cilantro and cook for another minute. Then add this mixture to the soup. Correct the soup’s seasoning and serve. Keywords: Soup, Vegetarian, Main Dish, Middle Eastern, Intermediate, Beans ( RG835 )

Strawberry-Balsamic Sorbet Serves 4 as Dessert. My mother-in-law macerates strawberries in a balsamic vinegar-sugar mixture which I find delicious. This is a riff on that dessert. Note: You'll have extra sugar syrup. Keep it in a jar in the refrigerator. It keeps forever and frequently comes in handy. Sugar Syrup 1-3/4 c sugar 2 c water Strawberry Puree 1 qt Strawberries 3 T Balsamic Vinegar 2 T Sugar 1 T Vanilla extract 1. Combine sugar and water in small sauce pan and bring to boil. Let sugar syrup cool and place in refrigerator 2. Hull strawberries and cut in quarters. Place in food processor with balsamic vinegar, sugar, and vanilla. Puree until smooth. 3. Strain puree to remove seeds (this is optional). Add 1 cup of chilled sugar syrup to puree. 4. Chill strawberry mixture a minimum of 4 hours. Overnight is best (you want it very cold). 5. Put mixture in ice cream maker and churn according to instructions. Remember to stir mixture before pouring into ice cream maker as the puree and sugar syrup will sometimes separate. Keywords: Easy, Fruit, Dessert, Food Processor, Kosher, Ice Cream Maker, Vegetarian, Passover ( RG827 )

PHAD THAI JE Serves 4 as Side. Thai rice noodles with garden fresh vegetables. Click for Picture 2 tablespoons of oil 6 - 8 cubes of tofu 10ml light soya sauce 30 g bean sprouts 20 g chopped spring onions 30 g mixed vegetables ( sliced carrots, zucchini, baby corn and brocolli ) 5 ml limejuice 10 g thick tamarind juice 10 ml dark soya sauce 3 g sugar 5 g tomato or chilli paste 5 g chilly powder 5 ml vinegar 100 g parboiled rice noodles 10 g roasted peanuts salt to taste 1. Sauté tofu in oil and light soya sauce. 2. Add the mixed vegetables and stir-fry for a few minutes. 3. Add the limejuice, tamarind sauce, dark soya sauce, sugar, tomato/chilli paste, chilly powder & vinegar. 4. Mix in rice noodles and cook till noodles are done. 5. Garnish with roasted crushed peanuts. Keywords: Thai, Hot and Spicy, Chinese, Vegetarian, Side, Healthy Choices ( RG797 )

Texas Caviar The original Texas Caviar recipe that I was introduced to was in the Pace Picante cookbook, sadly not available anymore. I have changed it quite a bit to our taste but the basics are there. Consider this a starting point as the variations are endless. Friends endlessly request that I bring this to our gatherings. There is some added advantage that it is healthy and even appeals to the odd vegetarian. 1 can black eyed peas, drained and rinsed 1 can white hominy, drained and rinsed 4 green onions thinly sliced 2 garlic cloves minced 1/2 c chopped onion, preferably white, rinsed after chopping 1/2 c chopped celery 1/4 c chopped parsley 1 c Pace picante sauce or more to taste 1 T cider vinegar or more to taste Salt to taste Mix all together and refrigerate 2 hours or overnight. Serve with saltine crackers or tortilla chips. Variations: Consider this a starting point and vary the ingredients to suit you. I don’t think I have ever made it the same way twice. The original recipe called for chopped green pepper instead of celery. I like celery better. The original recipe called for chopped cilantro instead of parsley. I find the cilantro too strong. But then, I am not a cilantro fan. You might try adding a little. You can use any combination of canned beans and hominy. Or, no hominy. If you use more than 2 cans, adjust the other ingredients accordingly or vary quantities according to your taste. This recipe is infinitely expandable to match the size of the crowd. Garbanzos are particularly good and black beans add a nice color contrast. I particularly like to use Goya brand canned beans. You can find them in any Hispanic market or maybe in the “ethnic” department of a large grocery. They are preferred because they are perfectly cooked and not mushy. Heat it up with a little cayenne or Tabasco sauce. The new flavors of Tabasco like Chipotle or Garlic add a nice flavor note. Of course, there are now many flavors of Pace Picante to choose from and a gazillion other brands. Add fresh chopped jalapeno or other chiles. Add fresh chopped red or yellow bell peppers. Adds nice color and is not as strong as green pepper. Diced jicama adds a nice crunch. Keywords: Appetizer, Vegetarian, Easy, Beans, Snack ( RG788 )

Squash and Pecan Casserole Serves 8 as Side. I made this for the Pacific Northwest board's holiday potluck. It's based on the recipe for Butternut Squash Souffle in the Dillard House Cookbook. Squash 1 winter squash 3 eggs 1/2 tsp vanilla extract 2 tsp grated ginger Topping 2 T butter 2 T brown sugar 1/4 tsp cinnamon 1/4 tsp nutmeg 1/2 tsp coriander 1/2 tsp cumin 1/4 tsp salt 1 c coarsely chopped pecans For the squash filling: cook squash until soft (I like to cut it into large chunks, brush with olive oil, and roast at 400 for about 45 minutes), then peel and mash or puree. Stir in eggs, vanilla, and ginger. For the topping: melt the butter in a small bowl, and stir in the sugar, spices, and salt until well blended. Stir in pecans until well coated. Spread squash in a 9 inch pie pan (or other suitable vessel), and put the pecan mixture on top. Bake at 350 for about 30 minutes. Keywords: Side, Vegetables, Vegetarian, Dinner, Easy ( RG782 )

Cheese Fondue Serves 8 as Appetizeror 4 as Main Dish. 1 lb Gruyere cheese, coarsely grated 8 oz Emmentaler cheese, coarsely grated 4 tsp cornstarch 1 garlic clove -- halved 1-1/2 c dry white wine 2 tsp lemon juice 1-1/2 T kirsch, if desired Freshly ground pepper Freshly grated nutmeg In a large bowl combine the cheeses and cornstarch and toss to coat. Rub the inside of a heavy saucepan with the garlic and discard the garlic. Add the wine and lemon juice and bring the mixture to a boil. Stir in the cheese mixture gradually over moderate heat, stirring until smooth. Stir in the kirsch, if desired. Season with pepper and nutmeg. Simmer mixture for 2-3 minutes and transfer to a fondue stand set over a low flame. Serve immediately, taking care to remember to continually stir the fondue to prevent it from separating. Serve with Granny Smith apple wedges and sliced Baguette. Keywords: Appetizer, Cheese, Main Dish, Dinner, Vegetarian, Snack, Easy, Fondue Pot ( RG777 )

I've seen several people mention that they're "recovering" vegetarians or vegans. And I've also been a part of several eGullet discussions about how animals are treated during the slaughtering process, which has made me do more thinking about how much meat, if any at all, I should be eating. If you're a current vegan or vegetarian, I would be interested in hearing why; what's been important in your decision not to eat meat or animal products? If you're a "recovering" or "reformed" vegetarian or vegan, what's brought you back to the world of meat eaters? Everybody play nice, now. I'm just curious to know what's moved you in one direction or the other.

I'd appreciate knowing more about 'vegetarian' stocks. (The "hot soups" thread in the Indian forum got me thinking about this.) I assume basic vegetable stock-making would involve simmering cut vegetables in water and then straining the mixture. But what about the specific combinations and proportions of vegetables, addition of herbs and spices, length of time for simmering, reduction etc. Beside its obvious use as the base in soups, what other uses could one put this to (assuming that it doesn't possess the thickening property of the meat-based stocks)? edit: I did try to see if this topic has been covered elsewhere, but didn't get a specific result. I'd appreciate any pointers to previous discussions, if any.

Hello- One of my challenges in moving to Buenos Aires has been finding reliably good, fresh produce. It's great to see so many corner produce stands with the fruits and vegetables so colorfully displayed. But, unfortunately, I've been burned by mediocre stuff too many times. A produce buyer for a local grocery store confirmed to me that much of the best that this country grows is for export. That, and the fact that back in Chicago I belonged to a CSA, drove me to seek out some alternatives to my neighborhood fruit stand. One place I came across (by asking the manager of Bio, a vegetarian restaurant in Palermo Hollywood that was good but overpriced) is called La Orgánica. Their number is 4911.7601. (I don't know if there is anyone there who speaks English, FWIW). They only do delivery. If you call, they will tell you what day of the week they deliver in your area. Then you can call the day before to put in your order, according to what is in season and available. Beyond produce, they have what you might call "pantry staples" -- organic flour, olive oil, etc. They also have bread, milk and some cheese. They deliver a catalog with your first order. My experience with them was very positive -- the fruit and vegetables were all top-notch. The basil came verdant and lovely with its roots still intact, the easier to keep it fresh in some water. The carrots came with the tops still on. The tangerines and oranges were ugly but delicious. Grapes and plums were excellent, too. I also ordered cucumbers, arugula and radicchio. Possibly something else I'm forgetting. My fridge looks like a greenhouse. The only "problem" is that the minimum order is 35 pesos -- which is a LOT of produce for, say, one or two people. But you can fill out the order with the pantry staples -- or just prepare to eat a LOT of produce (I was sort of used to this idea, having been inundated with CSA produce in the past). This is my first post. I'm hoping my little bit of legwork here helps someone and takes some of the mystery out of getting hold of good organic ingredients -- or just good ingredients period -- in Buenos Aires.

Ok..so everyone is talking about it. Just for fun, what is *your* Saffron Menu. We have the truffle menu and the chocolate menu, so why not saffron? Starter+Main(1 or 2)+Dessert Optional: canapes, beverages, petit-fours, wine matches and all that stuff. Can be designed to be suitable for any season, specific to any region or dining preference(vegetarian/"healthy"/no dairy etc)

I'm curious about Bamboo Fungus. I had some tonight in a dish at a Chinese restaurant. I'd never seen, heard of, or tasted it before. It reminded me of "fish maw," except that the dish was completely vegetarian (rectangles of deep fried tofu, te bamboo fungus, and sugar snap peas in a fresh ginger sauce). I started to Google bamboo fungus anc came up with a lot of mentions of using it in shark's fin soup, and buying it at an herbalist. Does anyone know anything else about it?

Does anyone know of a restaurant in Seattle with a decent number of vegetarian maki (or nigiri) options? Our toddler loves the idea of sushi (thanks to one of her favorite books), likes kappa maki, but we're not ready to move her on to raw fish yet. So I'm looking for a place that: 1. Has more non-raw-fish options than tamago & kappa maki; and 2. Would be child friendly enough for us not to tick off the other patrons (not Shiro's, for example). There's a great sushi place in San Francisco in the Richmond where I've gone with my vegetarian friend, which serves some really great stuff, including kabocha squash maki. Thanks for any ideas! Susan

Despite being a vegetarian for two years and continuing to maintain a primarily meat free diet, I had never cooked tofu until recently. I just never liked to eat the stuff. I picked up some homemade extra firm the other day and thoroughly enjoyed it. The best thing I found to do with it was cube it, marinate it in soy sauce/vinegar/ginger/garlic, then toss in a stir fry. My favorite combination was with snow peas and mushrooms, adding the marinade liquid to create a sauce. I also tried baking strips of it, but didn't like that as much. So what are your favorite tofu recipes? Also any advice on handling/ keeping it from sticking to the pan. (remember tofu can be enjoyed by non-vegetarians!)

Every now and then since December 2004, a good number of us have been getting together at the eGullet Recipe Cook-Off. Click here for the Cook-Off index. For our sixth Cook-Off, we're going to be making pad thai. You've surely eaten this Thai restaurant staple dozens of times, marvelling at the sweet, sour, hot, and salty marriage on your plate. There are lots of variations of pad thai floating around the internet, including one by mamster at the eGCI Thai Cooking course. While there is one ingredient -- rice noodles -- that may be hard for some to find, most ingredients or substitutes are available at your local grocer. And, if you're new to Thai cooking, isn't now a good time to get your first bottle of fish sauce or block of tamarind? In addition to the course, here are a few threads to get us started: The excellent Thai cooking at home thread discusses pad thai in several spots. A brief thread on making pad thai, and one on vegetarian pad thai. For the adventurous, here is a thread on making fresh rice noodles. Finally, a few folks mention pad thai in the "Culinary Nemesis" thread. Fifi, snowangel, and Susan in FL all mention in the fried chicken thread that pad thai is also a culinary nemesis of theirs. So, in true cook-off style, hopefully we can all share some tips, insights, recipes, and photos of the results! I'll start by asking: does anyone know any good mail-order purveyors for folks who can't purchase rice noodles at their local Asian food store?

I had the most delicious Carrot Cake ever yesterday, and apparently it was Vegan! Double Yum! It was dense, and moist and almost fugdy in a way (texture wise). Does anyone have a good vegan carrot cake recipe they'd be willing to share? Thanks! ~Miranda

Hello: I love swiss chard, and it seems to be in great abundance in the markets I frequent, lately. I have a lovely bunch with pink stems in the fridge waiting to be cooked! But, I am a bit tired of the way I near always cook it - sauteed in olive oil, garlic, with currants and pine nuts. I'm looking to try something different, interesting, fun, even! with it. I was considering some sort of stuffed chard dish.. not sure what Id want to stuff in it (I am a 'fish-eating vegetarian', by the way). Or.. maybe chard pizza? Any suggestions, from fellow chard lovers? -cacao

Hi, I gave my favourite chocolate cake recipe to a friend, and she wants to make it for her mom. However, her mom's vegetarian and does not eat eggs. My friend is asking if there is any way she can substitute the 4 eggs in the recipe for something else. I don't know of any substitute, can someone help? Here's the cake recipe: -1 cup cocoa powder -3/4 cup strong coffee -1 cup warm milk -2 and 3/4 cup sifted all purpose flour -1/2 tsp. salt -1 tsp. baking soda -1 and a half cup unsalted butter -2 and a half cup granulated sugar -1 tbsp vanilla extract -4 large eggs You also need: -2 eight-inch cake pans, at least 2" deep -parchment paper -extra butter for greasing the pans 1. Trace a circle on the parchment paper using the bottom of your cake pan. Cut it out and place in pan. Grease the parchment paper and sides of pan. 2. Whisk cocoa, hot coffee, and milk in a large bowl. Let the mixture cool. (You can stick it in the fridge while you assemble the dry ingredients.) 3. In a separate bowl, sift together cake flour, salt, and baking soda. Set aside. 4. Cream together softened butter, sugar, and vanilla extract. Add eggs one at a time while continuing to stir. Pour in cooled cocoa mix. Add dry ingredients and mix until it no longer looks grainy. 5. Divide batter between cake pans. Smooth top. Bake for 20 minutes at 350 degrees F, rotate pans and bake another 20 minutes or until cake top springs back when lightly pressed. 6. Invert pans for 15 minutes, then let cool on racks for an hour. 7. Peel away parchment, and frost layers. Ingredients (for chocolate frosting): -1/2 cup unsalted butter -3/4 cup confectioner's sugar -1 cup cocoa powder -1/4 cup whole milk -2 tsps vanilla extract 1. Cream all the ingredients together until combined. 2. Place one cake layer on a cake stand (or plate). 3. Spread frosting on layer, and place the 2nd layer on top of frosting. 4. Frost the top of the cake and sides. edit: I accidentally left out the coffee amount in my original post.

Hi, I am a newbie both to this board and to the world of mexican cooking. I love tamales but the place where I live distinctly lacks good mexican restaurants. The best tamales I've tasted were made by my mexican friends mom at home and served fresh and they tasted like something that'd be served only in heaven. Am dying to try making them myself but I don't have the slightest idea how to get started. Can someone give me a tried and tested recipe using ingredients that I'm likely to be able to buy in the US? I'd be really really really grateful. Oh and I'm a vegetarian although I do eat eggs from time to time. So I need a vegetarian recipe too . Really looking forward to some help!!! Thanks a million, worm@work

Sorry for being blunt, but are you a vegetarian? I am not, but I could be a vegetarian right this minute if I were forced to. I like rice, almost all kinds of soy products such as tofu and natto, and vegetables.

At dim sum, I ordered some 鲜竹卷 Seen Jook Guen [Cantonese] (steamed ground pork in soya-bean wraps). One of my extended family members (American born) asked me what "Seen Jook" 鲜竹 is. Well... here is a quick 101 about "Jook". The Chinese name for these things uses the word "Jook" 竹 as in Bamboo. But the product really has nothing to do with bamboos. Instead, the word "Jook" 粥 as in congee should have been used because that's how they are made. Have you ever had a bowl of congee (or Jook [Cantonese]) 粥 and it's steaming hot, so you decided to wait a few minutes before eating it? After a few minutes, the congee surface cools down and a thin membrane has formed. Well, this thin membrane is basically what "Seen Jook" 鲜竹 and "Foo Jook" 腐竹 are. The main difference is that the grain used to make Seen Jook and Foo Jook is soya bean, not rice. Soya beans are grounded with water to create a puree, then it's boiled in a big pot so it becames congee. When the pot cools, the surface membrane starts to form. Workers would pick up the membrane with a stick and hang it up to dry. And the process repeats... The first few layers of membrane are the best ones. Because they are very soft and don't become brittle. They are called "Seen Jook" 鲜竹, which is used mostly as wrappers in dim sum dishes such as "Seen Jook Guen" 鲜竹卷. The next few layers of membrane are of a lesser grade. They harden and become very brittle when they dry. They are called "Foo Jook" 腐竹, which is used in many recipes such as in soups, congees, sweet concoction and such. Foo Jook tastes a little plain by itself but it adds a trace of the soya bean taste and some sheet-like texture to a dish. Then comes the next few layers of membrane. They get thicker and sweeter. These are called "Gee Jook" 枝竹 probably because they form like twigs when dried. Gee Jook is a little bit chewy and must be soaked in water until soft (a few hours) before using for cooking. It is used mostly in stew recipes such as lamb stew, and some Chinese vegetarian dishes (e.g. Budda's feast). The bottom layers are very thick and sweet. These are called "Teem Jook" 甜竹. ("Teem" in Cantonese means sweet.) It is very sweet, very chewy (almost rubber like). It is the least expensive grade, and is used in vegetarian dishes. You can find all 4 types of soya bean sheets in Asian grocery markets. "Seen Jook" are kept in refrigerators. The other three are packaged in plastic bags in the dried food section.

<< previous installment << I was delighted to have a free day with nothing scheduled. It was a lazy morning -- I did laundry, hung my clothes out to dry on the roof (where I encountered an older woman with a British accent who was getting high) and then hooked up with Bev for a leisurely day of exploration around old Dali. We covered not only the old cobblestone-paved city and its offshoot side streets, but also many streets and dirt paths outside of the city walls, often ending up at the entrance to someone’s yard, at a gate or a stable. We stumbled upon a lively market and, despite my attempts to refrain from taking photos (after all, how many photos of a market can I take? Lots it would turn out), I couldn’t pass up the photo op. The usual suspects were present as always, but a few things in particular caught my eye. You’ve heard of chicken (or rooster, as the case may be) in a basket? How about baby in a basket? No, the baby wasn’t for sale. There was also a guy selling chili peppers -- nothing unusual about that -- but what was interesting about this guy was that he was grinding them by hand. More accurately, he was crushing them with a giant metal pestle -- a rod of at least four feet in length -- in a stone mortar, to customer specifications. I would see stalls in other markets that sold chili peppers in whole and crushed forms, and even machines that crushed the chilies to different degrees of fineness, but this would be the only time I saw them being crushed in this manner. In no other market I visited in China or Tibet -- and I visited a few -- did I see anyone crushing chili peppers in this manner. By 2:00pm we were ready for a coffee, but for the most part the coffee in China is either dreadful (it is, after all, a tea-drinking culture) or limited to Western tourist destinations and therefore dreadfully overpriced (think Starbuck’s prices) and often mediocre at best. We settled into a place that looked like it would be a happening nightspot in about seven hours and discovered, to our great delight, something called Yunnan coffee. It was served black and it was dark, rich and brewed just right. Milk was available when we asked (the young man working the bar was the only employee in evidence and he didn’t speak English) or, rather, when a French-speaking fellow who seemed to live behind the bar (the building, not the counter) asked, in Chinese, for milk on our behalf. This was the first I had heard of Yunnan coffee and I would look for it elsewhere, though outside of Yunnan province and farther afield it would be difficult to find. We settled into a couple of sling-back chairs in the courtyard behind the bar, under a giant umbrella, and enjoyed the coffee (and, if you must know, a bit of a bitch session) while being pestered by a small, flea-bitten kitten that was especially fond of Bev. In desperate need of a snack, Bev and I came upon a man selling a crepe-like item on one of the cobblestone offshoot streets in old Dali. He had a wok full of coals with a small grill placed across two thirds of it. He took out paper-thin sheets of a white substance that I thought might be cheese or maybe tofu skin, but I was skeptical of my theories because cheese is not prevalent in the Chinese diet and, as I watched, I wasn’t certain that tofu skin would behave the way this product did when cooked. Then again, there are some in the region, like the Bai, who do incorporate a limited amount of cheese in their diets. I stopped to photograph the chef and we were so curious we decided we had no choice but to try it -- otherwise we wouldn’t have a chance in hell of figuring out what the white stuff on the grill, now puffed up like a hot pita, was. The people ahead of us, who had stopped to get their mystery crepes, were now happily munching and walking away. We pointed to indicate that we wanted one and observed the whole process again from start to finish. The three rectangular sheets of white stuff went on the grill. As they began to puff, the grill-master turned them. While they cooked further, he took a crepe-like item out of a covered pot to his right. As each rectangle browned and puffed, he removed them and placed them -- starting in the center of the crepe and working outward with a great deal of overlap -- over the area of two rectangles. He gestured towards a number of condiments in some uncovered plastic containers just next to the pot. Not knowing what most of them were, we nodded cluelessly as he pointed at each one and then spread a bit of each on top of the white rectangles, now covering about half the area of the pancake. He then placed the pancake on top of the grill, open and face up, and folded it into a neat rectangle, approximately the size of one piece of white stuff. Bev tried it first and gave a nod of approval while some peanuts and unidentifiable sauce dripped down her chin. She handed it to me. I took a bite. It was delicious. Still, I had absolutely no clue what the white stuff was. If it was cheese or tofu skin, it wasn’t like any I’d had before. It seemed like it could be a relative of the cheese I saw in the market the previous morning -- the flat kind -- but I had eaten a piece of that grilled and it had a different taste. I knew there were chopped peanuts and chili paste in there. There was also some white stuff spread around on top of everything, and if I didn’t know better (or taste otherwise) I’d have guessed it was mayonnaise. So, here we were, eating this delicious and interesting street delicacy, and I was no closer to knowing what it was than before I had tasted it. So, we did what any self-respecting food-obsessed people would do: we tried to find English speakers who could tell us what we were eating. This, as you might have guessed, was far easier said than done. We strolled along the cobblestone side street, taking mousy bites so we would have enough left to use as a demonstration. We came to an odd-looking place that had big windows from street to eye level. There were a handful of people sitting inside. Half were Westerners, and half were Chinese. We peered inside trying to determine if this was a bar. A restaurant? An art shop? The residents, mostly around my age, some maybe a bit younger, saw us looking in at them and gestured for us to come in. But there was no door apparent. They intuited, from the look of confusion on our faces, that we couldn’t figure out how to enter. One of them held his arm up above his head bent at the elbow and pointed across his head with his finger to indicate, we gathered, that we should go around the side and enter through the back. We walked down a narrow alley between this building and another, through a courtyard in the back and, upon entering the building, we were no closer to figuring out what kind of place this was than we had been standing on the street. It seemed to be a theme. “Hi.” We greeted them. They all looked up, somewhat dazed and confused, but not unfriendly at all, and said almost in unison, “Hey.” “Is there music here?” We had seen a sign out front possibly indicating there would be live bands. “Tonight there will be,” one of them answered. The others seemed to be industriously busy and involved in detailed finger work. “We’re trying to figure out what this food is, do any of you know?” We held it up for inspection. A few of them put their heads together and conferred. “What is it?” they asked, unhelpfully. “We don’t know,” we said. “It’s sort of like a pancake or crepe. We bought it on the street from a guy selling them just over there on the corner.” We pointed catty-corner to the building to indicate. “You’ll have to ask our friend but he’s not here now. He’ll be back in a minute though.” We stood looking at each other. Some of them sprawled out, half reclining, on a low built-in L-shaped bench with thick fitted cushions and pillows on one side of a long farmhouse-style rectangular table. The rest were on the other side of the table on a couple of chairs. While we stood there, one of them held up an alarmingly hefty joint, already lit, and gestured to us -- an offering. Just then, their friend, a Chinese guy, walked in. He didn’t seem surprised by the addition of two extra Westerners. He found himself a seat and sank into it. We again held up our snack, only one third of which was left (talk about self-control), and asked him if he knew what our street food was. What was the white stuff, what were the other fillings? We ran through the drill, explaining what we saw the chef cooking on the grill and how. He offered that it was “a street food.” But did he know what kind of a street food it was, or perhaps even what the ingredients were? No, he didn’t know. He couldn’t tell us. Bev and I looked at each other and realized that, while we had indeed found some people who spoke English, and even someone who spoke English and Chinese (and was presumably even a local) they were all too stoned to do us any good. We thanked them -- a few of them grunted responses -- and we left. We weren’t going to find out what we were eating, so Bev had another two bites and handed the rest to me to finish. It was delicious, even if it was to remain a mystery. 4:00pm rolled around and it was time for me to check in on my English student and the go-to girl to see if my trousers were ready. I expected they would not be and that the ping-pong-loving, cigarette-smoking, ash-dropping tailor would have them ready at 5:00pm -- as he had told them. I was not disappointed: my trousers were not yet ready. I was told, in between profuse apologies, to return at 5:00pm. With an hour or so to amuse myself until the final trouser experiment would reveal its success or failure, I decided to return to a shop that Bev and I had passed earlier in the day. It was, I had figured out, a facial parlor. There were four or five narrow salon-style beds lined up with enough space between them to fit a standing person or a steam machine. I had determined earlier in the day, through Chiniculation, that the woman did facials (the steamer helped me develop this theory, so I brought my hands up to my face as if to ask if the face was the area that would be treated; the answer was yes), that they lasted approximately one hour (I pointed at my watch, she looked at me blankly, so I pointed at the clock on the wall and then gestured to show the hand moving around; she did the same, showing me that it lasted one hour) and then I pulled out my calculator to find out the cost. 20 RMB. Not a typo. The facial would cost 20 RMB (approximately $2.42 US). And, for the bonus round in the Chiniculation Olympics, I asked her (again, by gesturing to the clock on the wall and pointing at the hour hand and the numbers) what time the shop closed. 8:00pm. So here it was, 4:00pm, and with an hour to kill I returned to my lady at the facial parlor. She greeted me and gestured to the second-to-last bed from the entrance. I took my shoes off and climbed onto the bed. She pulled the bed slightly out from the wall so that my heels could hang off one end (otherwise my head would hang off the other). I closed my eyes to avoid the fluorescent lights and settled into the blissful experience of having my face massage with lotions and potions, steaming, and more lotions and potions rubbed in. Perhaps 15 minutes into the hour, one and then perhaps three or four voices began a loud discussion near the head of my table. My eyes were covered at this point, so I could only guess what was going on. But using my best powers of deductive reasoning, I figured that because the sliding glass doors of the shop were always open (that’s how I found it), some friends or acquaintances must have walked by, seen her working on me and stopped in to have a chat. After a few loud minutes, those people left. Shortly thereafter, a male voice, coming from the other direction, began speaking to the facial genius. They too had a loud chat and he disappeared out the back. The contrast between this “salon” experience, with its open door, public space and people coming, shouting and going, and a big city spa or a resort in the United States, with private darkened rooms, bullshit Eastern trickling water music, “cleansing chai tea,” and all of the technicians wearing rubber soled shoes and speaking in hushed tones, was amusing. After about an hour, the facial genius touched me on the shoulder to indicate that I was finished. I pulled out my calculator and typed in 20. She shook her head yes. I handed her a 20 RMB note. Then I held out a 10 RMB note and typed in 20 + 5 = 25. She looked at the calculator. She looked at me. She looked at the 10 RMB note extended from my hand. It registered. She took the 10 and somewhat tentatively handed me back a 5. I smiled. She smiled and the first English words were exchanged between us. “Sank you,” she said. “Hen how,” I replied (very good), with my best effort at a 100 watt smile. “Sank you, sank you,” followed me as I went out the door. Tipping is not really part of the Chinese culture, and I was likely, based upon her reaction to the tip, the first Westerner to be a customer. So she was surprised and delighted with her bonus for the job well done. I knew I was sort of breaching the social contract -- I do try to respect the local culture and not taint it with my own -- but she had done such a good job, and I had enjoyed the experience so much, that I decided a very modest tip would be acceptable. To me it was only 5 RMB. To her it seemed much more. When I returned to collect my pants, the English student looked at her watch and told me I was late. I chuckled to myself. It was 5:20pm. I tried on the trousers and, as I suspected, the ping-pong-loving tailor had not let me down. They were perfect. Time to negotiate once more. I asked if additional pants could be made that day. The English student ran to the shop next door to consult with the go-to girl. The two of them returned and huddled together. The go-to girl sent the English student to the “factory” and stayed with me in the shop. Two additional pair could be made, but I was told I’d have to get them quite late: 11:00pm. No, I said. I could collect them at 10:00pm along with the jacket. Agreement was reached. I again left my original pair of trousers and took the new ones back to the hotel. Bev and I had made a plan to meet up for dinner and, it turned out, everyone else had decided to join us too, with the exception of Sylwia, whom I assumed they had not seen. We chose a place with plastic tubs full of ingredients out front and ordered five dishes. This place turned out to be mediocre and, although a few dishes were good, overall it was a disappointment to me (especially after our dinner the night before with Mama), though it would be the only one of the entire trip. By the time we had settled on a restaurant, we had lost Farmer John and Amy to the chore of packing for our upcoming week away from our bags. Bev and I spearheaded the ordering based on the visible ingredients. We asked for a mushroom dish (and ended up with a few mushrooms and some unidentifiable meat), baby bok choy and another green (only one of which was good), a tofu casserole (which was the best dish but was full of mystery meat), a spicy chicken (that Wendy selected; she was very pleased with the level of spice) and a fried rice with egg and vegetable (that Kay suggested and was an excellent choice -- very light and flavorful, not heavy, greasy and brown with soy sauce like the sort common at home). At 10:00pm, I went to the shop to find my English student and there she was, standing out front with the go-to girl. Everything, it seemed, was ready. I tried on the waistcoat (an overshirt, really), which was perfect. Aside from the chalk marks that the ping-pong loving, cigarette-smoking, ash-dropping tailor didn’t have time or inclination to wipe off, it could not have been improved upon. I tried on the trousers -- two pair. The fit was acceptable. Clearly rushed along, they were not entirely as good as the first pair, but they were good. In my gut I knew that I should have ordered all of the trousers up front after meeting the tailor and that, because I didn’t, I should have left it at one pair. But having gone through all of the work to find the right guy to make the trousers, I couldn’t bear to pass up the opportunity to have more made since I had finally found the right material (one of the vocabulary words I continuously tested my English student on), the English student, the go-to girl and the skilled tailor. Before I left, I did a final run-through of the vocabulary list with my English student, packed up and headed off into the dark night, again turning around to wave over my shoulder and again being showered with smiles and waves. The final episode of the trouser drama had come to a fitting conclusion. The next morning I was awakened at 7:00am, as I had been every morning in Dali, by the mechanical tune (think Good Humor truck) of “Happy Birthday to You.” By consensus we had figured out that the music was emanating from the miniature garbage trucks that plied the town, but until I actually saw one of these trucks and heard the music, I was skeptical. These trucks, approximately the size of a minivan, would play this tune on an endless circuit. Elsewhere, we heard the ice cream truck version of “It’s a Small World” -- those drivers must have done something really bad in a previous life to end up in such purgatory. People would run out from their shops, homes and restaurants and throw bags of garbage into the side of a truck -- sort of like a side loading dumpster. I tried to imagine what could be worse than singing and hearing “It’s a Small World” over and over and determined that the ice cream truck version -- hands down -- beat Disney by a longshot. Two days later, I was still circuiting one of the two songs through my mind and, during lulls in conversation, I occasionally and involuntarily burst into song. We traveled by mini-bus from Dali to Qioutou, where we met our Chinese guide, Sean, and left our bags for the next eight days in his wife Margo’s cafe while we traveled to Zhongdian, trekked in the Tiger Leaping Gorge and finished up in Lijiang. There was no toilet at the cafe, which is par for the course in China (though, admittedly, I was a little surprised because Sean is married to an Australian woman and they seem to cater primarily to Westerners), so I was directed outside, down a very steep driveway and around the back to get to the nearby public toilet. This particular public toilet seemed to be for the citizens of the town but was also conveniently located right next to holding pens for pigs. I stepped into the dark cement block and, as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I stopped in my tracks. I had a companion. And, unlike some other public toilets that had waist-high cement walls allowing for at least the illusion of a little privacy, this one had a wooden plank with three holes cut out -- and only air between me and my neighbor. I wanted to turn and flee but what was the difference? There would likely be someone else there if I came back, and it's not like I'd ever see this person again, so I figured I might as well get used to it. I dropped my trousers and silently praised myself for being so international. When I got back to the cafe, Margo was flitting around, talking incessantly and generally behaving like she was off her rocker. We unloaded the bags we planned to leave behind and re-boarded the mini-bus for the remaining three to four hours of bus torture. Our hotel in Zhongdian (Gyalthang to Tibetans, and recently changed to Shangrila by the Chinese government for, as far as I can tell, the purposes of marketing to tourists), had a beautiful lobby, so we were hopeful that the rooms would live up to expectations. We were so wrong. The rooms were utter crap. We had no hot water, no heat, and the ceilings were water damaged, as was the industrial astro-turf like carpeting. Amazingly, we were told, the hotel was brand new and had just opened. I met up with Bev and Martin for a wander. Zhongdian, at approximately 10,000 feet, didn’t seem to have all that much to offer. I had been anticipating a beautiful Tibetan town. But because of a Chinese program of economic incentives for construction, the entire city was under construction. While there seemed to be some rules about building only in sort-of Tibetan-style architecture, the city was growing at an alarming rate and it seemed to have lost its soul. The old town, however, although also under construction, was beautiful and charming. All of the homes were old traditional Tibetan flat-roofed residences with attached stables in the yards and lower level of the home for winter. We climbed to the top of a hill where there was an enormous prayer wheel (imagine a merry-go-round). It had a waist-high bar wrapped around its middle and, to turn it, at least a couple of people had to grab the bar and apply all their body weight to walk and turn the wheel. There were a couple of young Israeli boys trying to turn the wheel counter-clockwise -- the wrong direction -- so in true Israeli fashion, I good naturedly scolded them and advised them to go the other way. They were so excited that I was speaking to them in Hebrew that before long I was chatting with their two sets of parents. One set of parents included the Israeli ambassador to China (visiting from Beijing) and the other parents were visiting from -- where else? -- Miami. The ambassador asked where I was headed and I told her that we were going to the Gorge. Be careful, she warned, several Israelis have died there -- the trails are narrow and the rock is often slippery -- proceed with utmost caution. Was I headed to Beijing? Too bad. I surely missed an interesting opportunity to meet with them there. In parting they wished me a happy new year, and I wished them an easy fast. Martin, Bev and I settled into a cafe along the cobblestone streets of the old town. There was an inviting small stove in the middle of the room, a fully stocked bar, some tables with chairs and other tables with big futon couches for hanging out. The menu was limited but interesting. I ordered a vegetable and tofu stir fry and stir fried seasonal vegetable (aka cabbage) to share, and Bev and Martin ordered a chicken curry dish (hacked up chicken with skin and bones and all) and a spicy pork dish. The vegetarian dishes were beautifully cooked and delicious, and came in enormous portions. Each cost 6 RMB. The meat dishes cost considerably more but also came in generous portions and received rave reviews from my companions. An excellent find in an otherwise seemingly overrun town. Note: Come to find out, Hazel, the owner, was a recent transplant from Xian. She came to open the business and was taking advantage of the Chinese government incentives for people who were building and opening new businesses. Unfortunately, there in the heart of the old town, the old Tibetan town, all of the new funky restaurants and “pubs” seemed to be owned not by Tibetans but by Chinese -- a situation that I found repeated in other Tibetan towns and cities and that was much bemoaned by Tibetans I met in Lhasa. After a day in Zhongdian, we had a 7:15am departure for the bus station to catch a 7:50 bus to Haba. We all kept our eyes peeled for breakfast snacks and just outside the bus station we were rewarded by a few vendors plying their wares: boiled eggs cooked in tea, steamed meat buns, and boiled corn on the cob on a stick. Kay established the trend of eating corn on the cob on a stick, and Sean and I were quick to follow. The corn was an extremely deep yellow, and the texture and flavor were rather unlike the corn we eat in the US. The kernels themselves were much tougher and chewier (dental floss a must) and getting a bite off the cob -- especially because the cob was stuck through with a chopstick-size skewer -- was a bit of a workout. The corn was sweet and I would look for it elsewhere. Inside the bus station, the bus was apparently waiting for us for departure. We loaded ourselves and our packs onto the mini-bus, the driver kicked it into reverse and . . . klonk. The bus lurched and stopped dead. The driver put it into neutral, and a bunch of guys who had climbed off the bus (aided by others who were standing around, presumably waiting for their own buses), tried to push the bus backward and out of the bay. After about four feet . . . klonk, and again klonk. The bus went silent and the engine started leaking oil. They pushed it back a bit more and the pool of oil was revealed to be more like a small sea. When Sean informed us that the driver had left -- in search of a part -- we filed off the bus and watched and waited. The driver went to work and, about an hour later, claimed to have fixed the broken part. Six guys pushed the bus out of the bay and the bus, now facing in the correct direction to be put into drive, sputtered to life. We piled back onto the bus and watched as two Chinese lady passengers refused to get on. They were fearful that the bus would break down and they wanted a “guarantee” that the bus would run to its destination. No guarantee was given, but eventually they got on anyway. What choice did they have, really? The route was a winding, narrow mountain road with sharp dropoffs and nothing between us and the great abyss. The road was under construction so everyone, including the reluctant ladies, went airborne on countless occasions. We had a lunch break at the foot of Baishuitai, the White Water Terraces, which reminded me a great deal of a place in Turkey’s Pamukkale, though on a smaller scale. We started up the staircases next to the terraces. Bev, Martin, Kay and John were walking ahead toward a small old man standing at what seemed to be a little shrine on one of the terraces. The man held out incense and gestured that they should light it and put it in the terrace shrine. Sean came up behind me laughing and, as the four of them lit the incense and gingerly put it into the white water terrace, Sean informed the rest of us that this shrine was specifically where women who were trying to conceive went to make offerings. Haba was an hour farther along the mountain road. Half of us were in the cab of a truck, the rest in an open bed. We would be two nights in Haba at a basic and simple guest house. The toilets were down the stairs and across the courtyard. The showers, one of which worked, were at the other end of the courtyard. Wendy, Kay and I were bunking up in a triple. Dinner was a feast, and good: stir fried sweet potato slices (soft, not crispy); julienne zucchini and squash, stir fried; mushrooms with Sichuan peppercorns; sauteed eggplant with garlic; boiled chicken legs; fried white potato shreds (like hashbrowns); dried yak meat cooked with vegetables; pork with vegetables; and steamed (or boiled) pumpkin, which tasted like acorn squash. I ate so much, I became uncomfortably full, so Bev, Martin and I finished up the day with a nighttime walk through and beyond the village. We awoke to rain and a valley full of dark rain clouds. The plan was to spend four or five hours climbing up the hill (approximately 1,500 or more feet vertical) to a Yi village where we would have a very simple lunch and make our way back down through some other villages and back to the road. Breakfast was family style: plates of fried egg and tomato from the wok, platters of banana, orange and apple slices, naan-type bread and honey, and a rice bread that looked like a fried egg without the yolk. We watched the rain, hoping it would stop, but at 10:00am, with no reprieve in sight, we set out up a muddy and slippery trail in the rain. The rain picked up. It poured down on us for the next two hours. We were totally clouded in so we had no view, the trail was becoming increasingly treacherous and a trip participant meltdown was about to ensue. But there was nothing that could be done. If one of us went down, we all had to go down and we were, according to Sean, 30 minutes from the top and the village. We pushed on. In the village, we were ushered into a home. Sean, having grown up in and leading trips through the Gorge area, knew many people. We were served bowls of Yunnan “brick” tea and later wok cooked potatoes (the potatoes were placed in the wok and the wok was set down into the fire on top of a three-pronged metal ring) and a hearty and heavy dark bread which seemed to be made of barley flour. It was two hours down a different slippery slope back to the guest house, and I managed to do a complete ass-plunge into the mud. I was, by this time, soaked to the bone and covered in mud from toe to waist, and the crowning glory was the mud print on my ass where I had so gracefully landed. I was officially ready to be inside and out of the rain. I plodded along somewhat miserably for the last 30 minutes, sustained by dreams of hot showers and clean dry clothes. Except, the showers were solar powered. Eight people, one shower, no sun. What were the odds of hot water? In the end, most of us simply hosed down our shoes, our clothes and ourselves. Literally, as in with a hose. I also scrubbed my socks, still on my feet, with a scrub brush. I put my shorts on backwards, soaped them up and tried to work the clay-like mud off the ass of my shorts. The rest of my clothing would have to wait for a sunny day -- after all, that’s what deodorant is for. << previous installment <<

For cancer fighting reasons our two person foodie household is trying to lower or eliminate animal fats. We are trying to switch our meat/dairy/poultry cooking and eating habits to a vegan diet. (We will still be eating salmon for the omega acids). We have done well the past 10 days we have been on this new diet, but it is time to venture out into a cafe or two for some new ideas. A soul cannot live on stir fry and tofu for very long. (Maybe a body can, but the soul will fly off in protest.) It is also important to stay low fat, even with the "good" oils, so even though we love many of the tofu dishes in the I.D., the oil factor is usually pretty high in the dishes we have had. We had a great vegan breakfast at the Sunlight Cafe last Saturday morning, and I know Cafe Flora has some vegan options, but are there more? Any places in the ID that steam veggies instead of stirfry? Any really tasty vegan dishes or baked goods you want to recommend? Thanks in advance for your thoughts, much appreciated.

Hi all, my first post here. At another forum I visit, there were some people wondering if India, with its distinct (and delicious!) cuisine for the past so many centuries, has also developed some distinct types of cutlery. For example, the westerners have knives such as chef's, boning, slicer, parer etc., the Japanese have their own, the Chinese have their cleavers and so on. Being from India, however, I could not think of knives specific to India or its cuisine. To begin with, while I was there, I was never aware of cutlery as a very important part of the kitchen; whatever was sharp enough to cut would do, without much emphasis on its shape/design, ergonomics, steel etc., but that might've been just me... What I have usually seen in Indian (home) kitchens are what I would describe in western terms as 'utility' knives of different sizes, and some serrated ones that don't belong to any named category that I know of. Also, in my grandma's kitchen there used to be an old, wooden-handled carbon steel knife with square tip, presumably similar to what the Japanese use as their 'vegetable' knife. Again, my family is a vegetarian one, so I'm totally unaware of what cutlery might be used for meat. I have been thinking about this for a while even before this question came up, and I am pretty intrigued to know what you think. So any thoughts regarding the specifc (or not so specifc) type of cutlery that was/is used in Indian cooking, vegetarian and non-veg, north or south, would be really interesting to know. Thanks, Anchita

Hi all. As you may have seen in previous postings, I am a recovering vegetarian. Yes, it has been a tough 4 years, but I have managed to try and fit meat back into my diet. In the past year I have begun integrating sashimi grade fish into the menu. Last month I began eating Salumi proscuitto(simply because it is from Salumi and it is SO DAMN GOOD). But until this evening I have yet to take the leap from my high horse of vegetarianism: beef. I asked for advice on where to get the best hamburger to fully confrim my ominivore status, and the answer I recieved was Dick's. I went there tonight and had a "Dick's Special", very good but a bit lacking. I am now in search for the perfect hamburger, especially since tonight was the first time my pallate had tasted beef in 4 years. Again, and I'm sorry for being so self-absorbed, here are my Seattle burger nominations(and feel free to write in any candidates that do not appear here). Red Mill Daly's Burgermaster Kidd Valley Deluxe Bar and Grill Take a minute out of your day to help a recovering vegetarian find his way back into the beautiful world of omnivores.

Buddhism and Food - A theory of being Vegetarian. Ethical Eating, From Anthony Flanagan "Eating is both a basic and essential activity. If we don't eat we die - simple as that. The question for ethics revolves around what choices we make about what we eat and what eating patterns we subscribe to. We don't have to go far to find advice - newspapers, magazines, websites, television and video, education classes...all compete for our attention. But what advice on food and eating did the Buddha give? In the early scriptures known as the Pali Canon, the Buddha has a number of significant things to say about food. . . . . " The rest of the article can be found here: http://buddhism.about.com/cs/ethics/a/Food.htm [This post has been modifed by management to remove excessive text quoted from another site and to provide a link to the text and attribution to the author.]