4th of July, Salads, Mayo, Dressings

Videos from my cooking demo in Madison, WI.






Soy Milk Mayo
1/3 cup Soy Milk
3/4 tsp cider or distilled vinegar
2/3 cup canola oil
Salt, to taste
Seasonings, to taste

In the blending container, add the soy milk and vinegar, and mix with an immersion blender. Add the canola oil, and make a plunging motion with it to get all the ingredients emulsified.

Fat Free Chickpea Dressing
1 16-oz can chickpeas, drained and rinsed
1 ½ TB sweet white miso (chickpea miso is fine too)
4 TB nutritional yeast
1 ½ tsp garlic powder
1 tsp onion powder (I prefer granulated onion powder, but use whatever you like)
2 tsp cheap yellow mustard
¼ cup lemon juice OR 2 TB cider vinegar
Salt, to taste
3 cups water, reserved

In the jar of a blender, combine the chickpeas, miso, nutritional yeast, garlic powder, onion powder, lemon juice, mustard, and salt. Add about 1 ½ cups of the reserved water, and blend on high. Continue adding water as needed, until the chickpeas are all ground to a puree.

If you'd like to email me (either in a text email, or to send a voice recording that you want me to play on the next episode), send an email to altveg at me dot com.

Self Call-out

I knew that this was coming, so I shouldn't exactly be surprised. It's filthy outside, between the blistering cold and the overcast days. The sun hasn't properly shined in longer than I care to remember. As the wind blows harder, I turn more inwards. It's like clockwork. The cold weather hits with a vengeance, and I start going into full hermit mode.

And it's not that I dislike being with people. I'm generally happy when I'm around people whose company I enjoy. It's why I love working where I do--I genuinely like the people I work with, and being there is a pleasure and not a pain. Same thing goes for visiting my friends, having friends come visit me, being close with my husband, spending time with him, and doing things people-related.

All those feelings are fleeing. I'm finding reasons to cut things short. To go home early. To get off from work at the very moment that I start feeling a little shaky. The worst is that I know there's more to be done, and I'd like to have a few minutes at the end of the day to review with my boss, but I feel so frayed at the edges that I just want to be out of there as fast as I can, so I can huddle under my covers and pretend that I never woke up. I can even feel the threads of my grip on things start to come unravelled, and I know that if I don't make a quick exit, I'm going to have some kind of emotional, sobbing meltdown.

I get home, I make dinner, I talk to my husband for a few minutes, and then I retreat from everything. Either I'll read or do something else that doesn't involve being with others.

To get past this, I'm really pushing myself to have people over. Last week, we had friends from the neighbourhood come to hang out on Thursday. Then on Saturday, my boss and his son came over to hang out for a bit. So far, this week has been more or less solitary, but Saturday I'm going to teach a cooking class to a very lovely lady. Then next weekend, starting Friday early in the morning, Puppy and I are going to Virginia to visit my brother and sister.

I'm hoping really hard that it ends up being sunny out there, because these overcast days have me in a pretty nasty funk that I'm really ready to be over already.

Quit Smoking

To actually manage to quit smoking, the most important technique is to actually want to stop smoking. No amount of smoking cessation is going to help if the will to do so isn't present. Once you've got that sorted, there's a couple of methods out there available to you. Please bear in mind that everything I'm saying here is strictly anecdotal. It's based on my own experiences and observations. Your results will vary, because addiction is a highly personal thing, and will work on different people in different ways, depending on your life situation, environment, encouragement from casual acquaintances and friends, and your support network.

For whatever reason (my reasons were financial, because the cigarette tax had gotten so burdensome that I was about to have to spend on my weekly cigarettes what I'd spend on food for a month), figure out what those reasons are, and genuinely reflect on what that all means. I wasn't much bothered about the social aspect of it, because my husband didn't mind the smoking. My friends would often join me if I had to step out for a smoke. A couple of them didn't even mind my smoking in their cars, as long as we could keep the windows down. However, once it got to the point where we were only earning one income, and that one income would have to stretch to make us both comfortable, I knew that I had to stop for good. I talked it over with my husband, and he agreed that my math was accurate. Once we both made that commitment, I called the New York City quits hotline, and asked them to send me nicotine patches. Once I made the final decision, I moved onto the next step.

Aside from desiring to quit, breaking my patterns really helped to prime me to put out my last cigarette. For example, I was never an all-day long smoker. Yes, I'd power through the cigarettes fairly quickly, but I never bothered smoking first thing in the morning. 

First thing in the morning, all I want is a tall glass of water, and a couple of minutes to wake up fully. I'll maybe read for a while. When I'd walk to the subway, however, I'd take the stop that runs express (rather than using the local stop across the street from my apartment and transferring to the express 3 stops later), which would give me a five minute walk in which to finish a cigarette. When I'd walk to work from the subway station downtown, I'd light up another. After a big meal, I'd always have a cigarette. If I was drinking, I'd have a cigarette. So far, we're up to maybe five or six. Then I'd get home, pour myself a drink, and light up a cigarette immediately. I'd either park myself in front of the TV, or pick up the phone to call my mother or a friend, and I'd relax that way. Throughout that time, because I wasn't focusing on the actual act of smoking, I'd idly burn through the remainder of the packet.

When I made my decision to stop smoking, I had to begin breaking my patterns. I started taking the local train across the street, so that I wouldn't have time to smoke through a cigarette. I stopped eating large meals (which I was never a fan of to begin with). I stopped watching TV. I stopped talking on the phone for more than a minute or two at a time. If I wanted a drink after coming home, I'd make sure that it was something that I would want to really enjoy, like a glass of wine or a nice cocktail, rather than something that was there to just get me drunk. (The difference being that I wouldn't dream of having a cigarette with a nice glass of wine, because I want to actually taste the wine.) I started reading a lot more than I already was doing. I hated smoking while reading a book, because I didn't want to get cigarette ash onto my book or the computer (depending on what I was reading on). 

My brother took the lighter attachment out of the cigarette lighter in his car. What's the typical ritual for a smoker who drives? Get into car, turn on car, press down on the cigarette lighter, buckle up, turn on radio, when the lighter pops, light the cigarette. If you're with another friend, let them light theirs too. It's another pattern that's easy enough to break. You maybe don't have a cigarette as soon as you pop into the car. Maybe you wait until you hit a long traffic light to allow yourself one. And if the light changes before the cigarette is lit, just delay it a bit longer. 

These weren't sudden changes. It was a process of genuinely sitting myself down, and asking myself when my cravings were at their worst, and trying to interrupt those habits with new habits.

Once I'd managed to break my patterns, I had it down to where a package of cigarettes would last me three days. This took about four or five days. It was work, but it was worth it. I would not have been able to make the leap from smoking a pack a day to smoking nothing at all immediately. For me, it would have been too jarring, and everything I did or was used to doing would make me want to smoke. Breaking the patterns really forced me to examine what it was about cigarettes that I enjoyed, and taking the time to enjoy them, rather than mindlessly pounding through them. That was when I was finally ready to try the patches. By the time I'd winnowed down to three or four cigarettes a day, I was ready to try the patch.

It does help to have a quitting buddy, to whom you can turn when the cravings get bad. Since s/he is also going through the same things, s/he can commiserate with you about it, and help you find something to distract you from lighting up another cigarette. My friend Dan did a combination of Chantix and self-help book. I'll get into both later on. Either way, around the time that I quit, about four of my friends (two of whom I knew in person, and the other two online) were quitting at the same time. We'd complain to each other when times got rough, and helped each other with techniques to get through the tougher cravings.

I started with the nicotine replacement patch.

Quitting Cold: For my brother, this was the most effective method. He'd decide that he didn't want to smoke anymore, and would stop smoking. And that would be it. However, my brother has an inherent stubbornness (OK, willpower, if you're being kind) that won't let him bow to someone else's pressure. If he has someone or something telling him that he has to do something, he'll find a way to not do that thing out of pure spite. If you've got that particular bent, and are willing to give it a shot that way, by all means give it a shot.

The Patch: This was, for me, the worst of all, next to quitting cold. I had horrible side effects, from shaking to nausea to dehydration. I felt horrible all the time. I got very violent, disturbing nightmares that I couldn't explain. I don't watch violent films, I don't watch violent TV, I don't read violent books, and I try to avoid violence as much as I can. Where were these disgusting, gory, horrible nightmares coming from? The box said that this is normal, and that I should just stop wearing it at night if I get nightmares. Should have thought of that first. Who the hell smokes while they're sleeping?

I did stop wearing it at night, but the symptoms never got any better. I was still having horrible shakes throughout the day. I couldn't hold my knife steady at work, so I had to go at a slower pace. I was drinking those sugar and salt mixtures to rehydrate myself, and it still wasn't working (it didn't help that I embarked on this journey in the summer, where I was sweating already, due to the heat). When I ran out of the patches, I decided to try something else instead.

Chantix: My friend and his wife were on Chantix to stop smoking. Essentially, it works by blocking the nicotine receptors in your brain, so that even if you have a cigarette, you don't get the pleasure from it. Any lingering nicotine in your system doesn't have any more effect on you. Initially, you take two a day, and then ratchet down to one a day.

If this were a birth control pill, I'd be pregnant with a large family by now. The problem for me is that I can't remember to take the thing every day. I would set an alarm, I would write myself notes, I would carry the thing in my bag so that I could take it in case I missed a dose at home. So a one month supply took me about three months to work through. It did help to get that last bit of cravings out of my system, however. For me, it was effective, as it was for my two friends who tried it. We were all quitting at the same time, and the Chantix helped us all to clear it out.

It's not for everyone, because it will interfere with other medications you're taking, so it's important to know what the complications are if you are on any kind of medication, to prevent drug interactions. Either way, it's prescription only, so talk to your doctor before you try the stuff.

Self Help Book: I hate self help books. They come off as smug and annoy me to no end. They're featured on certain talk shows who shall remain nameless, which are also filled with smug and annoying people. I'm sure there are some folk who are helped by self help books. Bully for them. I hate them.

It is with that in mind that I was bowled over by how useful this one self help book was. It's called The Easy Way to Stop Smoking, by Allen Carr (ISBN: 0615482155). Like Chantix, the book works with you while you're still smoking. For me, it was mainly to understand the process of addiction and how to break it. Either way, it is highly effective.

Smoking is a weird addiction, in that the high, or the comfort, or the pleasurable feelings, only come from satisfying the withdrawals to the drug. The second you put out your last cigarette, your body starts screaming for the next one. It's not loud at first. Initially, it's just a whisper. Then it becomes more and more urgent as more time passes. Finally, when you're ready to break, you light up a cigarette, and feel this rush of pleasure. That's your body telling you that you've fulfilled its need for more nicotine. Allen Carr explains this a lot more eloquently, and it's what really helped me to break the hold that cigarettes had over me.

E-Cigarettes: I have a friend who's been on them for over a year. That's all I'll say about them.

Gum: Ew.

I'm sure there are other methods, but these are the ones that I've explored myself. There are other methods out there. If you've got your own stories, feel free to share them. Again, your results will likely be different from mine. Again, these are purely anecdotal, and are shaded by my own experiences and prejudices. Take it with a grain of salt.

Before you try any method, however, give yourself permission to be human. I had managed to stop smoking for about three or four days before lighting up a cigarette again. This happened more than once. Clearly, for me, quitting cold was not an option. However, I didn't let myself get discouraged. It's an addiction. That means that there are physical and psychological ramifications to it. If you don't genuinely allow yourself the permission to be a human being, and try again if you don't meet your expectations on the first try. Notice how I didn't say "when you fail". Failure is giving up.

Failure is never trying in the first place.

Happy Birthday, Amma

Amma (mother, in Tamil) and I have had a long-standing tradition that on my birthday, we celebrate both the person who's been alive another year (the birthday boy), and the person who got him there in the first place (the mother). It's a good tradition, and one that the ravages of distance and time have not managed to kill off. Now that my mother is on the other side of the country (and for anyone who's familiar with the sheer size of the USA, will know that it might as well be the other side of the planet), we continue the tradition over the phone, which is just as nice, because there are fewer distractions.

That being said, I'm preemptively making this post, because I know Amma reads this thing, so that in case the unthinkable happens, and I manage to astoundingly bungle what really is my favourite part of my birthday celebration (due to being too tired after work, or not charging the phone, or something else equally annoying and dumb), I will have at the very least made it clear that the first thing I thought about when I woke up this morning at 5:30 (after the initial thoughts of "ACK! BATHROOM!") was indeed my mother. However, because she's like three hours behind, I'm not about to wake up the entire house to call her at that ungodly hour. Especially not when my nephew is likely sleeping, and getting woken up by the phone is Not To Be Considered.

It's strange. I've had an inexplicable dread of hitting this particular milestone for a while now. I'm 30. Ugh. Even writing it makes me uneasy. But here it is, and I might as well admit to the old age that I've been cultivating since the age of 5. One of my aunts mentioned (in an amused tone, for the record), ages ago, that I was in equal turns an unabashed young child, and a 75 year old man at the same time. So. Here I am. 30 years old.

I've met (and married and stayed together with) the sort of man who I used to think only existed in sappy romance novels. I've written and had published my first book. I'm working at a place where I enjoy the fruits of my labour, and the challenges excite rather than drag down. I've got some pretty close friends who enjoy spending time with me. I've got a comfortable little home in a city I love dearly. I've managed to get rid of most of my major vices, and have reeled in any that I haven't given up completely (I'm not trying out for sainthood).

There are definitely things that I still want to do, that I still look forward to being able to do. But I've got plenty of time for those. It's not like I'm 30 or something.

Oh wait.

If I'm being perfectly honest with myself, the outpouring of love and good wishes from family (my sister called and left a voicemail at 12:30 AM last night, while I slept, and thereby managed to be the first to wish me, which she promptly followed with an email; her husband emailed shortly after that) really is life-affirming. I love that I inspire good feelings towards me, and that people want me to be happy. I've also gotten some lovely emails from fans who've been around since day one, from the before time when I was just a voice on a podcast, or a few words on the screen.

Thanks to Amma for my birthday, as always. Thanks to all my friends and family and fans who have sent over their lovely words of support and love. Thanks to my angel husband who still somehow enjoys my company. It's a good time to be 30. 

Veganacious Interview

A few weeks ago, the lovely Barbara Degrande asked me to be on her show, Veganacious. We didn't strictly talk about food (although there was gratuitous food chat going on). She had to spend a fair bit of time editing the thing, because we both got so caught up in having our conversation, that we lost track of time, and the thing ended up rambling and roaming a lot.
Download here!

Tradition!

I was having a discussion with my friend Kate when she was over here enjoying some food I had just cooked. She mentioned that even though she is vegan, she still has a soft spot for those things that she enjoyed eating when she was growing up. Food has powerful connections to it, above and beyond nourishment. Those foods you ate as a child that gave you comfort will hold a powerful connection for you. However, as Kate mentioned so eloquently, "Just because I want to still enjoy that food doesn't mean that someone else should have to suffer for it." Well put, Kate. So she, in her home, tends to actively seek out omni subs all the time, and is on a quest to recreate those memories, textures, tastes, and feelings while still holding true to her moral convictions.

Mind you, Kate isn't "one of those". Her spice cabinet is very well stocked. Her mind (and mouth) are both open to new experiences. When she was here, I was cranking out random weird South Indian dishes that most people hadn't heard of before (because most Indian restaurants focus on North Indian dishes), and she was cheerfully eating them. She absolutely loves vegetables of every shape and size. She takes genuine pleasure in all foods, be they the memories of yesterday, or experiments of the present and future. 

I said all that to share this story with you. My friend Joanna's husband Mark comes from a very large family in upstate New York. They're a rather close-knit family, headed by one of the sweetest matriarchs you could ever hope to meet. I would like to introduce you to the gentle, the kind, the ever-patient Suzanne. She sent me a message on 25 March. I'll let her say it in her own words. 

Hi, Dino. Mark's mom here. I have a vegan cooking question, and thought you might be able to help me. For years I have made a pineapple torte for our Easter dinner. The recipe uses gelatin, but now that we have several vegan/vegetarian family members, I'm trying to find an alternative that will still set nicely while not compromising the convictions of my loved ones. Any suggestions? Thanks so much in advance for any assistance you can give me. I hope we'll able to meet both you and Stephen on one of our next visits to Mark and Joanna.

I got a little misty-eyed, but was overall rather touched by her desire to respect the morals of her children. I thought that was a wonderful thought.

Hi Suzanne, Clearly, you are even more compassionate and kind than even your wonderful sons and daughter-in-law have mentioned! What a lovely way to continue traditions, but make everyone feel included! I have such an incredible amount of respect and warm feelings towards you and your family, because of the love that you all share with each other, and this is just one more example of that love. Thank you for reaching out to me. Mark and Joanna talk about you all the time, and about how what a pleasure it is to be in your presence. I hope to some day share in that too! 

I have found that agar tends to replace gelatine quite closely, though not exactly. It'll get very close, though. The Japanese have a long tradition of making vegan gelatine desserts, which they call Kanten. It seems like it's fairly pricey (and it is), but a little goes a long way. At work, we buy the stuff by the pound, and it lasts a long time. 

The beauty of agar is that if it ends up too firm (as it will do the first time you use it), you can melt it down and it sets right up again! I was so amazed by this that I thought that my boss was pulling a cheat on me somehow, but sure enough, it worked out when I tried it myself too! Who knew, right? As with anything where you're working with new ingredients, experiment with a little bit first, to see how the stuff behaves. 

Most of the Internet swears up and down that you can use it interchangeably with the amounts you'd use for gelatine, but I don't think that's the case, from how we've used it at work. I've found it especially effective in baking, when I want a bit of firming up, without adding cornstarch, and keeping the gel jewel-clear. For example, when making the cherry topping for the vegan cheesecakes we make at work, agar makes the fruit stay put. When you have finished setting up the agar (it sets up at room temperature, for the record, so no need to refrigerate unless you want to hurry it along), it'll stay solid for a long time. I remember using agar when I was running gel electrophoresis in genetics lab. It was endlessly amusing to see how the stuff held its shape no matter what you threw at it! Hope this helps a bit in your cooking adventures!
Dino

It had taken me a day or so to respond, because I had to double-check with my boss if pineapple would inhibit the setting up of agar, as it does when you put it into a cheesecake. Apparently, it doesn't.

Thanks, Dino, for your gracious reply. I really appreciate the time you gave to my question. Daniel located some agar in Rochester , and it will be a family experience making the torte together this year. (We live in a very rural area, and ingredient choices are not very broad here.) My husband has been very unwell, as you may know, and is facing his first of five surgeries this coming Monday. I'm so thankful that all of the children can cook, as I will be arriving very late the night before Easter. We'll all put the dessert together as soon as I arrive. Just gotta keep those traditions going! Thanks for helping us to do just that. Take care, Suzanne

I didn't realise what a rough time her family was going through. It was even more poignant that she was still thinking about everyone's comfort, in spite of having so much on her mind already.

So then, I rambled back, to maybe help take her mind off of things for a bit. Also, I kind of wanted to keep the correspondence going, because I wanted to know if the dessert worked out well for everyone.

Sounds good, Suzanne! Please let me know how it all turns out. Also, please have Daniel do a test run to make sure that the whole thing does set up. Few things are quite as disappointing as the grand finale being anything but. If it doesn't work, I can email Daniel something vegan that he can knock up quickly. I've had to do the same to gallop in and save dessert on more times than I care to remember. Seriously, there have been some nights.  

Like the one time that I had my dear friend Ricardo coming over for dinner, and he asked if he could bring a friend. No harm, no foul, right? I just add more water into the pasta pot, ready to feed both of 'em. About 20 minutes before arrival, Ricardo lets me know she's gluten free. D'oh! Thankfully, I had the rice pasta from Chinatown in my pantry, and I figured that today was the day to use the thing. 

Or the many times I've been to Joanna and Mark's house, and got a request for dessert. I'm not a baker, y'see. I just know a couple of recipes that're fool proof, that I keep in the back of my brain, in case of dessert emergencies. Like the apple lingonberry crisp I made for those two when I think Daniel and Andrew were visiting. That came out fantastic. Or the Lemon Poppyseed cake. Man, was that good! 

Funny story about the lemon poppyseed cake. I was flat on my back, having over-indulged the night before (in an effort to keep Mark at home, so that Joanna could go to the store to "get more beer" [when she was really going to pick up Daniel and Andrew]). I basically dictated the recipe, and the specific instructions to the gang, while running an online interview that I'd promised to do months before. It was the most hilarious thing (looking back), because there I am, hollering highly specific instructions to the kitchen, while trying to type to my interviewer at the same time. For the record, the cake was delicious. Thanks again for reaching out. I appreciate getting to know the families of my friends better. I wish your husband a speedy recovery. Dino

It took a while, because that was around when Easter hit, and things got crazy busy for everyone. However, I got back some very good news when the dust all settled on both sides.

So, Dino, the torte was perfect! Thanks so much for your assistance. I was sooo happy that everyone in the family could continue to enjoy one of our holiday traditions. You're the best! PS...Mark, Joanna, Drew, and Daniel have had amazing things to say about the food you've cooked for them, as well as good things to share about you and Steven. Seems like you have a knack for multitasking.

Score! The point is, to this whole long rambling tale, that we do still have those foods that mean more to us than the specific ingredients in them. There are traditions, there are memories, and there are all kinds of other things tied into those things. When you start on a vegan lifestyle, you sometimes have to tweak those traditions, and make them into new traditions, so that you still connect with your family and friends over those things, while still holding true to your moral convictions.

Again, to reiterate: it's not fair to judge everyone who tries a mock meat thing, or an omnisub thing as "one of those lazy vegans who just lives off of boxed food". Daniel and Drew were quite adventurous eaters too. When they were visiting Mark and Joanna, I made all kinds of varied things, which they eat with great gusto. They're both capable of cooking, and cooking well.

But sometimes, they just want a little taste of home, mom, and pineapple torte.

Sometimes low-tech works.

I was making an excel spreadsheet to track sales at work. Each day has two shifts. This means that I need to create a series of dates, duplicated. For example, there would be two entries for 3/1/2012, two for 3/2/2012, and so on. I was trying to figure out how to make the software do that for me.

I tried googling the issue, I tried searching the help files, I tried everything.

Then, someone suggested I try this. "Create the dates for the range that you need. Then duplicate the dates. Then put the dates in the same column. Then sort by date. Tada!"

It took a fraction of a second for it to sink in that something so obvious should have occurred to me in the beginning, but never did. I'm so used to the software making it happen for me that I'd forgotten the low-tech methods of doing things sometimes work just as well.

The sun will come out! Tomorrow!

And today, too. It was so beautiful today that I got in a good two or three hours of basking in the gorgeous sun. I made adai for my friend who's staying with me until Monday, and a very fast curry of yucca, green beans, and tomato. We all ate until we were filled, and then finished it off with a bit of green oolong tea, from Sullivan Street Tea & Spices. They sell loose tea by the ounce, which means that I can buy just a little bit at a time, and use it up, and then go back for more.

I got some lovely messages of encouragement and hope, which really did help my mood tremendously. Also, I cooked for my friends yesterday night, which made it even nicer. It's such a nice day that I don't even mind opening the window and letting a bit of fresh air in.

I could certainly get used to this!

One of the ladies who came over for lunch took a picture of her plate of food so you could all see it too: http://instagr.am/p/ISL5sOk6f9/

Pretty, isn't it? The white stuff is my own coconut & soy milk yoghurt that I make. Isn't it so nice and thick? We ate the adai with the curried veg, the yoghurt, and some lime pickle that I'd made earlier last year. It's gotten this lovely tartness, mellowed out by a mild bitterness. It came out better than I expected. Thanks for teaching me how to make pickles, Amma. It's come in handy big time.

Here's a picture of two very happy vegans after eating all that food:

Mid week feast.

I don't know if this will become a regular feature, but I guess I'll give you guys a peek at this week's mid-week feast. It's a special cooking I do during the middle of the week, to lift up my spirits (because I love to cook), and Steve (because it gives him something of a change, and makes the house smell nice). This week's mid-week feat was simple, but tasty.

I had a few yuccas lying about, along with a few heads of cabbage, some onions, a lot of garlic, some tomato, and sweet potato. I peeled and chopped up the sweet potato (1 large one) into large (about 3 cm cubed) pieces, and set it in a pot of cold water. I set it onto the stove to boil. While that water came up to heat, I peeled the yucca, and set that in a pot of cold water. Set that on the stove to boil as well. Then, I chopped up 1 1/2 heads of cabbage, and the onions I had left. Then I minced up a head of garlic. I then got to cooking. By the time the onions, garlic, and cabbage were prepped, the sweet potatoes were just tender.

That's when the magic started to happen. On went some oil into a screaming hot skillet. In went some mustard seeds, cumin seeds, and sesame seeds. In went a bit of coconut oil, to fortify the smell and taste of the Canola. The house started to fill up with the heady aroma of the coconut oil, and the lovely spices. In went the sweet potatoes, a hefty hit of salt, and a bit of turmeric, black pepper, and cinnamon. I rounded it out with a good scraping of nutmeg.

I then continued to cook the sweet potatoes until they developed a rich, decadent crust on them. They browned every so nicely. I had to drop down the heat to medium low, and let them sit for a few minutes to move them around, but so what? The crust was developing. Then, I finished it off with some garlic, onion, and flaked coconut. That only boosted the smell even more.

By that point, the yucca was done. So I drained that, and chopped it up. In that same wok, I threw in some more oil, mustard seeds, and cumin seeds. When they popped, I dumped in the cabbage, along with some salt, and black pepper, and some red chili flakes. I sauteed that around for about ten minutes. That went off the heat into its serving bowl.

Finally, I had the chopped yucca, some tinned beans, the rest of my onions and garlic, and a hankering for a hearty stew. In went the mustard seeds, cumin seeds, and coriander seeds (crushed) with the screaming hot fat. In went the onions and garlic. When they browned, I threw in one tin of drained and rinsed black eyed peas, and a tin of pink beans (with the liquid it came in). I sauteed the beans around in the hot oil and spices, and slated it generously. Then in went the yucca, the yucca's cooking liquid, and some red chili flakes. The smells got even more heady, as the yucca cooked up, and the spices got more aromatic.

While this whole thing was going down, I had a pot of rice going in my rice cooker. All said and done, it took about 40 minutes from start to finish. Hope this inspires some of you to try your own mid week feasts.

Chickpeas are awesome in general.

I was in the vegan chat room today, and got to chatting with someone from Australia, who was just starting out her exploration of the humble, yes awesome, chickpea. She's been roasting them in the oven, and spending upwards of half an hour on the process, as the oven takes its own sweet time in making the roasty magic happen. I gave her a detailed explanation on how to roast chickpeas on the stove. She seemed shocked that it only takes a few minutes!

You can hear the results of the conversation here, on the new podcast episode. It was basically me catching up with my listeners, by reading their emails, and then plunging in head-first into chickpea heaven.

You start with a screaming hot skillet, some oil, some mustard seeds, cumin seeds, and sesame seeds. I get into more detail about the conditions of the whole thing in the podcast episode, and in the cook book, so either way, read up or listen up to the whole popping spices deal before attempting this. If you don't have the book, listen to the pocast which is free. Either way, you'll get the idea.

After the seeds are popped, throw in the well-drained chickpeas WITH NO AROMATICS. Aromatics kill caramelisation of your ingredients. They exude water, and increase the cooking time. This is supposed to be a quick five minute thing. Besides, adding aromatics adds to your prep time. Bother with that stuff when you don't care about time!

Then, you roast the chickpeas on high heat for about five minutes. If you want them more brown, keep going. Do not fear oil! Stove top roasting is a bit more oil intensive than oven roasting. If you see the skillet drying out, add a bit of extra oil, until the chickpeas are slightly shiny from the oil, and keep roasting. You won't get that beautiful brown unless you use a bit of oil. If you are watching your calories, read on, and I'll explain how to do them in the oven.

After the five minutes (or however long you decided to roast them) is up, turn off the heat, and let the chickpeas rest for a minute, while you contemplate how to eat them. They're excellent in a pita pocket, with some alfalfa sprouts, cilantro, and tomato. They're good over hot steamy rice. They're quite nice all by themselves, as a snack. You can use them as croutons over a salad. You can add a cup or two of water, and make it a soup (to thicken up the soup, either mash with a potato masher or grind in a blender about 1/2 of the chickpeas). I discuss other possibilities in the podcast.

If you are watching your calories, and want to reduce the amount of fat, use the following ratio for 1 pound of cooked chickpeas:

1 teaspoon oil
1/2 teaspoon cumin powder
1 teaspoon sesame seeds
1/4 teaspoon turmeric powder
Salt, to taste

Mix the oil, sesame seeds, and turmeric powder into a spice paste. Toss the spice paste with the well-drained chickpeas. Arrange them onto a baking sheet, so that they have a fair bit of space between them. For me, a pound of chickpeas takes two baking sheets. Your sheets may be bigger or smaller. The idea is that you don't want to crowd your baking sheet, or else the chickpeas will not roast on all sides.

Sprinkle generously with salt, to taste. Let them roast in the oven for about 20 minutes (at 180ºC or 350ºF), and check and see if they're brown enough for your liking. Feel free to shake the pans a bit to turn the chickpeas over. Also, feel free to rotate your pans. Some ovens have "hot spots", and you might do well to move the baking sheets around your oven, so that they can all get cooked evenly.

If they are brown enough to your liking at 20 minutes, remove them. If not, keep roasting them until they're at the brownness and crispness of your liking. The longer you let them go, the more they dry out, and the more brown they get.

If you find that they are taking too long to roast, chances are that you're crowding the pan, and having them steam first, then roast. Make sure there's plenty of breathing space for the chickpeas in the pans.

Now go out and roast some chickpeas!

By the by, this whole entry and discussion with my friend on the chat room was spawned because of the mid week feast I made for Puppy. I've got the picture below and above this entry.

Face to Face

For whatever reason, I'm a huge fan of getting things done in person. Last night, our fridge started giving brown water. That was decidedly gross. Ordinarily, most people would have buzzed down the front desk, and asked them to handle it. They would have, and the next morning, someone would have come in to fix the fridge. Instead, because I went downstairs, and joked about how I'm a late riser, it looks like they didn't send anyone yet, which is a good thing, as I had a rough night and couldn't sleep till rather late. Just to be on the safe side, however, I did run down again, and the nice man at the desk said that he'd have someone call me to let me know what's up. Again, that's wonderful. I could have called, but the guy would have been talking to someone else (who was trying to make a delivery at that moment). He appreciated my being there, and politely waiting my turn.

I've noticed this time and again with people that I serve, and who serve me: do things in person if you want them done right. When I'd have those people who would walk the three feet to my desk to ask me for computer help (in my old job), I'd ensure that I'd dash over to their desk immediately, and handle it. Those who sent me emails (and I hate emails, when you have my phone number or can come see me) go sent to the back of the line.

I'm not sure what made me think of this, other than the --

Oh right. When you're out there, and you have friends who question your veganism, don't discuss it over the phone, or via email. Do it in person, after you've cooked for them. I've had the hardest hard core carnivores come over to my side when I've taken them to eat really good vegan food, or when I've cooked it myself. They can never say that all we eat is twigs and tofu, because I've physically shown them differently. It's not like showing a recipe, or a shock video. Having them share that meal with you, in person, as you describe how easy everything was to make will give you the ability to make a lasting impression.

I am not the illustrious Grammar Girl, but I do know a couple of things about correct punctuation. I've been helping a friend of mine proof read her work, and I'm verging on a meltdown. She doesn't seem to care for traditional punctuation marks. As I'm sure you all know, punctuation marks are meant to provide the reader with clarity about the meaning of a piece. I could launch into the "cute" examples about misplaced punctuation, but I'm not in the mood right now.

Today, I'd like to personally slap the people who abuse the ellipsis. Let's set the record straight before we even begin: an ellipsis is not a substitute for punctuation. If you don't know what mark goes there, don't substitute an ellipsis. Making a piece that's riddled with ellipses is akin to driving with both the gas and brake pedals pressed. You get nowhere fast, and end up pissing everyone else off in the process.

If you really /are/ that scattered in your brain, keep those thoughts in the brain, or leave them in a place where you don't subject the rest of us to it.

Salad Rant

We were having deep discussions about salad (in a group of friends, of course), when I found myself silently twitching. I hear the poor salad being maligned, because many people have been presented with horrible representatives of it. You can't call all vegetables terrible based on the horrible, overcooked, grey, mushy nonsense you were served as a kid. It's not fair to say that an entire country sucks, based on the actions of a few primo assholes. Similarly, it's unfair to say that you dislike salads, based on the actions of a few misguided people.

First, let's get into what a salad is not:

1. Mayonnaise. Adding mayonnaise to something does not make it a salad. Mayo is a sauce. It's to enhance the flavours of the rest of the food, not overpower them. A salad should taste like the vegetables that you're eating. Instead of using mayo in a salad, the next time, use a bit of balsamic or wine vinegar, and a bit of olive oil. The tastes will be complemented, rather than drowned out.

2. Jello. Whoever thought that suspending fruits or vegetables in Jello is a good idea really needs a firm shaking. I didn't like it as a pregan, and I don't have to eat it anymore, as it contains animal scraps.

3. Limp, watery iceberg lettuce, with a few scraps of what could be vegetables. The only reason to use iceberg lettuce is as a filler for more expensive greens, like arugula (or rocket), watercress, baby spinach, or romaine. If you can't afford too much of the expensive greens (like field greens or the others I just mentioned), feel free to shred up some iceberg, and bulk it up. You'll get the same flavour, but without having to buy so much of it. Don't try to use iceberg by itself. It doesn't have much in the way of nutrition, and it doesn't taste like anything.

4. Raw broccoli, mushrooms, cauliflower. Seriously, people. What are you thinking?

A salad should be a celebration of the different tastes, textures, and colours that your food has. That is, it should be so bursting with taste, that you barely need a scant dab of flavouring to make it outstanding. A salad should be a combination of the finest, freshest ingredients you can find, because the bulk of them are going to be raw, and the bulk of them don't have fancy sauces, spices, and other veiling techniques to hide poor quality.

Let me explain. Suppose you bring home a bunch of vegetables. You find that some of them have bad parts, or have become dodgy looking. This is fine, as long as you can cook it well enough (after cutting out the bad parts). When you're done, you can always sneak the final product into a heavier sauce, or gravy, or get it so mixed up into other ingredients, that you never have to notice them standing out. Or, in cases like smooth soups, you puree the whole mess, so nothing has to stand out at all!

With a salad, however, every blemish and shortcoming of the ingredients you buy will come forward.

Another consideration is the size of the vegetables. Everything should be chopped small enough to fit at the end of a salad fork. I haven't seen people offering salad knives in a very long time, and seeing giant pieces of lettuce sticking out of someone's mouth is decidedly disgusting to look at. Similarly, any accompanying vegetables need to be chopped up into relatively small pieces, so that you can get a little bit of everything in one bite. If you're done one with (for example): romaine, cucumbers, tomatoes, carrots, beets, bean sprouts, and olives, here's what you'd do:

- Slice the cucumbers in half lengthways, then slice it into thin half-moon slices
- Cut the tomato into wedges, then slice the wedges into thin triangular slices
- Grate the carrots and beets
- Remove the pit from the olives. Cut each olive into four or five pieces
- Cut the romaine into 4 long spears lengthways, and then chop it into bite sized pieces

This mode of preparation may take a little longer with chopping, but will be much more kind to your guests. This way, with every bite, they'll be getting a little bit of everything, and won't have to struggle with individual ingredients. Also, because the colours will be so vibrant, you'll not want to disguise everything with a smothering dressing.

Finally, the vegetables you include should require roughly the same amount of chewing. That is, if you're putting in broccoli, you want it at least steamed, so that you don't spend so long chewing the broccoli that it becomes the overwhelming flavour in your mouth. Instead, when you spend equal time chewing each ingredient, the flavours mingle in your mouth, and each has a chance to stand out on its own for a little while. This is why I discourage raw cauliflower and broccoli, or mushrooms (which really suck out the flavours from the surrounding areas). Try to sauté these first before adding to your salad.

The point is that you should try to make your salads so interesting and varied that you feel like eating it. We all should be eating more fresh vegetables anyway, and a salad is the perfect way to get it in there. Try to make it so that when you (or others) are eating it, you have an easy time of it. Soon, you'll look forward to salad!

Are you a hoarder?

Do you have trouble getting rid of random, useless junk? Do you often find yourself vying for space with broken, useless, or irrelevant stuff? Does your desk resemble the fallout from a nuclear war?

I slowly see the creeping, clawing caresses of the stuff starting to take over my house. I valiantly struggle to purge things for which I haven't found a use, but even so, I find myself wondering why I'm holding on to some things that I don't use on a regular basis. Does anyone else hold onto things for those once-in-a-while projects?

My Achilles' heel on this count is kitchen gadgets. I have a bread machine and crock pot. Now, for one thing, I have excellent bakeries all over the city that make excellent vegan bread. I also have the corner store that sells vegan rye fairly cheaply, and Steve and I both love it. And yet, there is a bread machine that my mother gave me when she came to visit from CT. I have used it, but not that often. It's so cheap to get bread that I don't think it's worth the aggravation of making it.

Mind you, even when I do make bread, I have recipes that involve no kneading. I also have recipes that don't even involve yeast (like banana bread, or soda bread), which means that the bread machine is useless. Come to think of it, although the smell was lovely, it's a LOT of space to take up in a New York apartment for something I'm not using regularly. And yet, because I know that I will use it, I don't feel right in getting rid of it.

Ditto this on my crock pot. I cook most of my beans on the stove, because I haven't been able to afford the long-cooking ones, like chick peas ever since I moved here. Even in bulk, they're over $1 a pound, and I'm not willing to spend that. So instead of relying on the crock pot for my beans, I'm perfectly content to throw it on the stove, and have food ready in an hour. And yet, it's still here, isn't it?

Compound this with the extra clothes I never wear, the books I don't read (ever since I discovered the library, audio books, and librivox books), and spices I don't use daily. Ditto this on pots I don't use, and plates I don't use (I prefer to eat in bowls). When you look at the sum total of stuff I don't use regularly, it doesn't add up to much. When you spread it out over a New York apartment, on the other hand, it does.

What /is/ it about stuff that makes us cling so hard to it? It can't strictly be the utility, because not everything we hold onto is useful. It shouldn't necessarily be sentimental, because we have video recording, audio recording, and digital cameras at the touch of a button. Why, even my computer has a camera built in! When you really think about it, that "stuff" is holding you back from actually enjoying your life.

My concession has been to relegate the non-essentials to places where I don't see them regularly. My bread machine is tucked away in a cabinet I never look in, because it's too out of my way. My crock pot is in the bottom of the pantry closet. Those dishes I'm not using every day have now become tucked away in another cupboard I don't use a lot. When/if I entertain a lot of people here, I'll pull them out, and go to town. Until then, they can hang out away from my direct line of sight.

My mother is going through the grand purge right now. She's got over 15 years worth of junk piled up, and no place to store it. She and my sister (and their respective husbands) are all about to move to Arizona. This means that they can't take everything, because they're not driving all that way. Everything must go. If they don't get it to people who can use it, they'll have to throw it away, which to someone who can't bear to part with /anything/, is tantamount to torture.

I quietly fear getting to that level, where I can't bear to throw away something that is of no use to me. I remind myself daily that it's very easy to fall victim to those "let me just get a backup of that thing," or "I can still use ______ part!" When my rice cooker finally gave out, I got rid of the whole thing. I could have kept the pot, and the lid. Instead, in the interest of "I'm getting a new one anyway," we got rid of it as a full set. Let someone else enjoy that piece, and clutter up their place.

As for me, I have more useless stuff to buy.

Not goin' anywhere this weekend, beans and rice

So we were supposed to head out to DC this weekend. Suffice it to say, it wasn't in the stars. Instead, we stayed in. This is fine by me, but for the fact that all our friends can't seem to hang with us either, for lack of it being in the stars. Flat out nobody is able to get to us! This is madness!

To make up for not going to DC, I made Puppy a bunch of fried food, including samosa, and Lelly's deep fried Venn Pongal. Basically, she took a recipe from my book that she had leftovers of, and figured out how to deep fry it. I borrowed the idea, and it worked out great!

In most of the great food cultures of the world, I've seen some combination of legume/pulse/bean and rice. It's not only because it's cheap, but also because it's filling, and plentiful year round. It's easy to find dried beans and rice (unless you're talking about recently, with the crazy food riots!) anywhere in the world you go, and it's relatively simple to cook up a pot. In its most basic form, it starts with any form of soaked bean you have. You then season said beans, and cook them over low heat. When they're 3/4 of the way cooked through, you add 2 times the amount of rice. You let the beans and rice cook together, until both are very tender.

It's not supposed to be firm, because it's food that the whole family, from young children whose teeth are still growing in, to the elderly, whose teeth are on their way out! In our house, we can power through a pot of this comforting thing as fast as I can make it, so it's not usually a problem of "using up" leftovers. In other homes, however, where other foods are more par for the course, you try to figure out ways to use the leftovers, so that your family doesn't mutiny on you.

What I did is take the leftover Venn Pongal, and combine it with freshly sliced and chopped up onions, a teensy bit of tomato, and lots of garlic powder, sesame seeds, and ground black pepper. I amped up the salt a bit (because you expect fried food to be a bit salty). I then picked up my potato masher, and gave the mixture a good mashing. As I mashed, I started to incorporate rice flour. You can use chickpea flour or bread crumbs instead if you want to.

I kept mashing and adding rice flour until it became a relatively firm dough. It was still damp to the touch, but it was firm. I finished it off with a generous sprinkling of grits, and gave it a final mash. This was to mix up the textures a bit. The grits aren't required, but they sure are nice!

Finally, I made them into patties, and poked a hole in the centre. This would keep the little cakes crispy all the way through. I made the patties ahead of time, so that they'd have time to rest and set up a bit. Finally, I deep fried them. I imagine you could do them in the oven, with a bit of cooking spray. I just wanted to deep fry, so deep fry I did!

They came out wonderfully, and taste great by themselves, or with some ketchup.

Lazy, I don't have everything Rasam

We tried to make it to DC last night. No luck. It was raining, we headed out too late, and were queued up at the wrong bus. There comes a point where you just say, "Forget it. It's not in the stars." Rather than spend even more money than I had already thrown into the trip, I just decided that we should go home. It was raining fiercely.

By the time we got home, we were both drenched to the bone, and cold, and fairly miserable.

I wanted hot soup, and I wanted it quickly. I didn't want to wait to wait for split peas to boil for a full on, proper rasam. Enter, the lazy, I can't be bothered Rasam. A traditional rasam is every South Indian's idea of the ultimate in perfect food. It's hot, it's spicy, it's got your pulses/lentils/beans, and is eaten with rice. You eat it when you're feeling sick, in the winter if it gets cold, in the rainy season when you're drenched to the bone, and even in the summer, when the increased sweating helps cool the body down. We even drink it like a tea!

So you can imagine what I was craving when I got home after that fiasco. Enter, lazy rasam.

I started with the standard mustard seeds, asafoetida, and oil. Then I pitched in some tomato puree. I let it come up to the boil. I added a generous dose of rasam spice. Then in went a lot of fresh ground pepper. Add water, and let it boil for another few minutes. Fifteen minutes later, it was done to a turn.

I finished it off with a bit of tamarind concentrate that was dissolved in water. It wasn't perfectly the same, but was so startlingly close that it really hit the spot.

Does your food match your moods?

Do you ever notice how you tend to gravitate towards certain foods, depending on how you're feeling? What do you tend to eat to celebrate? To comfort yourself? To make you feel better when you're sick? To lift your mood when you're sad or depressed? What are the things you eat at a party? What about when you're gossiping with friends? What do you eat when you gather as a family? 

I find that certain foods always remind me of specific situations. For example, if I'm feeling sad, I'll gravitate towards large quantities of water. I think it's because I can't really bring myself to have anything more substantial. Alcohol won't do, because it'll irritate my stomach, and I don't want to feel sick and sad! Chocolate is a definite no, because it's yucky. 

There. I said it. I don't really care for chocolate. 

I can't eat anything soupy either, because I have to concentrate. So, if you ask my mother or someone close to me what I do when I'm feeling a generalised sense of malaise, they'll respond that I grab a large jug, fill it with water, and sit around drinking glass after glass of water, while I do other things to distract myself. Come to think of it, I also turn to water in large quantities when I'm very upset, or angry. I need that cool, sloshing liquid to clear my mouth, because it often gets dried out when I experience those acute emotions that I don't like to have. 

To celebrate, I tend to go towards foods that, in my mind, embody sharing. That is, if I'm going out with groups of friends (and anyone who's gone out to eat with me will tell you this), I'll tend to do the ordering, and grab a bunch of little nibbles. Then, as a group, we all share those little nibbles, and try a bit of everything. We keep doing this until everyone is feeling full. I don't like the "get your own thing and eat it" method, because it feels so isolated. 

There's this delightful restaurant in Midtown, called Hangawi. When you enter, you must remove your shoes at the door, and walk towards sunken seats. You sit, and the waiters provide you with outstanding service the whole time. 

Whenever I go here with friends of any shape, I make sure that we all get something different (unless it's our drinks; we don't ahre those!), starting with the appetisers. Sometimes, I'll even just do the ordering myself, and everyone takes from the main plate. By the end of the meal, we'll have gone through something like five or ten dishes, and everyone has tried a bit of everything. The whole time, we're rapidly chattering on about the food, about "you HAVE to try this!" and carrying on about the rest of our nonsense as usual. The major good thing about this method is that if you find something that you in particular dislike, someone else will probably like it more, and will really dig in. If it's something that everyone dislikes, you'll have confirmation, and multiple opinions when requesting that the waiter take it back. Most of all, however, nobody has the chance to be isolated, and everyone is highly social.

Those foods tend to be appetiser foods, and fried foods. The more fried, the easier it is to share. You don't feel quite so guilty when you split a plate of fried food with others, because you're not eating it all! 

I tend to be happy when the weather is clear, and the sun is shining, and there's a light breeze flowing. When I'm happy, I gravitate towards fresh, raw food. I like the vegetables to be bursting with flavours and wonderful aromas. When I slice into a tomato, I want the scent to leap into my nose, and drag me face-first into its bouquet. When I cut into the onion, I want the sharp sting to make my cry out. When I slice the cucumber, I want to smell the slight bitterness, a bit of grass, and the crisp, cold rivers. When I'm happy, I love having fresh vegetable sandwiches, where the juices of the vegetables fill my mouth, and dance on my tongue. I like salads, loaded with colour and flavour and texture. Just a light splash of lime or lemon juice, and a bit of salt is more than enough to make those salads and sandwiches heaven on earth. No dressings for me, thank you!

If I'm feeling sick, the first thing I hit up is Rasam. It's the one thing that will drag me out of any sickness I'm having within the shortest time possible. It's a blend of spices, tamarind, tomato, cilantro, and a little bit of legume (I use yellow split peas). Ever since Steve and I have been together, it's been his preferred sicky food as well. Barring that, I also like mooshy comfort foods, like pongal (rice cooked with split peas), gallopinto (rice cooked with beans), pasta with cream sauce, and others of that ilk. It's not a common thing to eat those fattier ones, like the pasta, but pongal and/or gallopinto is a definite staple. 

When I'm feeling in the mood for something decadent, I go towards very fatty foods, like smashed potatoes with cocoanut bechamel (make a roux with flour and oil, add cocoanut milk, add a scraping of nutmeg), macaroni and cream sauce, pilaf with saffron and three kinds of nuts (slivered almonds, pistachios, cashews), or something along those lines. Those things aren't hard to make, but the fat content, or ingredients just makes me feel like I'm on top of the world. 

When I'm with my girlfriends, and the gossip chain is in full swing, there is a requirement that there be either soda, or alcohol. Be it cocktails or cola, water simply doesn't cut it. Something about water just makes the gossip freeze in your throat. The popping of the bubbles on your tongue just lubricates the gossip into moving faster. The alcohol loosens your tongue to wag faster. In combination, the two harmonise to keep the conversation moving rapid-fire. Food is strictly optional, because it's hard to tell a juicy story while you're chewing. If any food is present, it's something you can finish off in one bite or less, and doesn't require much chewing. Hummus and pita, bajji, pakora, spring rolls, sushi, and other such nibbles are perfect. 

My mother and I try to reconnect as often as possible. Since she's so far from me, we do so on the phone. We can go for hours about nothing and everything, only pausing for breath once in a while. On those occasions, only water will do. Frankly, with my mother, the diversions and random tangents need a fair bit of attention, and require that you be up to par, or you'll get lost half way to your train of thought. 

I don't know what brought this musing on. I suppose that it's because I wasn't feeling too hot this morning (glug, glug, glug the water), but as soon as the sun came up, my mood lifted considerably (fresh vegetable sandwich). What about you? 

Puppy's aunt died. About a year ago, his mom died. We didn't make it on time to see her (his mom) one last time. Tuesday night of last week, Puppy called me to let me know that Dad called him to tell him that Aunt Florence was in the ICU with lung failure. Puppy wanted to come home and maybe discuss going to Chicago. I told him to book the tickets NOW. He did.

We arrived in Chicago last Wednesday night. Thursday morning, at 7:30 AM, we get the call that Aunt Florence was in critical condition. Puppy shook me out of a deep sleep. We went to the hospital. There was Aunt Florence, who was so energetic, that she helped me cook for the 50 people who came to my wedding (she was 80 at the time). She didn't give two shits about what job I assigned her. She just wanted to help. She then made damn sure that we knew that the entire (Roman Catholic) family backed us up.

There was Puppy's aunt--MY aunt, lying in the bed. She had a breathing tube shoved down her throat. She was in so much pain that they had to restrain her hands, because she kept trying to pull out the tubes. She had bruises all over.

Finally, at 9:30, her breathing got very laboured. Her blood pressure was dropping fast. Her kidneys failed. The fluid in her lungs built up to the point that she was writhing in pain. The nurse upped the dose of morphine.

At 10:00, the nurse asked us to leave the room, so that she could adjust Aunt Florence's body to alleviate pressure, and prevent bed sores.

Twenty minutes later, we came back into Aunt Flo's room.

Her face had lost all colour.

Her jaw hung open.

She no longer squeezed back when you held her hand.

Her muscles were so exhausted that she could barely lift her hand to try to remove the tubes again.

She finally stopped struggling. Her pulse slowed down to the point where there was none left.

The machine kept pumping air into her broken lungs.

Her entire body was limp. Her flesh hung off of the bones, like so many rags on a washing line.

We watched helplessly, as her last breath (that she drew herself) left her body. It was such a terrifying sight.

God bless you, Aunt Flo.

Steve

I know that Steve loves me, because he doesn't mind picking up my snotty tissues (when I have a cold, of course) with his bare hands.

Dino feels like Butt.

:(