Thanksgiving wrap-up

Look at that spread! To think, this was only one of three Thanksgivings I was blessed enough to enjoy this year. This one was at my mom's house, and what was so outstanding about hers was the fact that all but ONE vegetable came from her garden.

From the top left, clockwise:

Green bean casserole (fresh green beans)

Gravy, turkey, rolls, and dressing

Pecan pie (you guessed it, homemade with home-grown pecans)

Butternut squash pie (I made this with one of mom's squash)

Pickle platter (okra, cucumbers, and tomatoes from the garden; also the one non-garden veggie--olives)

Roasted butternut squash and shallots with fresh rosemary

Garden pumpkin stuffed with wild rice pilaf

Fresh corn (frozen from the summer harvest) with butter and herbs
This was the best Thanksgiving I can ever remember. We had three separate but equally wonderful occasions; one with Ryan's family, one with my dad's side of the family, and one at mom's. In the middle of it all, we celebrated two birthdays. And, unbelievably, I didn't have one bite of turkey!

I had a couple of minor vegetarian slip-ups (the amazing rice pilaf was made with chicken stock, as was the dressing, but that hardly stopped me), but overall didn't miss the turkey this Thanksgiving.

But it's easy not to miss something as trivial as turkey when you're surrounded by people you love. What a wonderful holiday. In fact, I'm pretty sure it's my favorite.

Coming up on my blog: getting deeper into the vegetarian conversion, and, should everything go smoothly tonight, a new recipe for spinach and mushroom enchiladas (with a creamy avocado sauce).

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veggie chili

As the holidays near, time is a precious commodity. I use most of mine cooking and preparing, gluing silver findings on to glass pendants, rounding corners on cardstock, and deciding exactly which recipe to use. This week we're celebrating Thanksgiving three times, and I couldn't be happier about that. I wish I'd had the time and the wherewithall to take pictures of my cooking extravaganza yesterday (homemade stuffing, two sourdough loaves, spinach and artichoke dip, birthday cupcakes with frosting, and more!) but alas—I've found that it's hard enough just to keep up with the to-do list!

In the spirit of not having much time, here's a very quick one-pot meal. This recipe was born out of necessity; I wanted something hot and spicy that wasn't soup, and needed to use up some jalapenos and cilantro in the fridge. Since I keep the pantry stocked with canned beans (let's face it, as much as I try to cook dried beans instead, it just doesn't happen as often as I'd like) and tomatoes, chili was a natural choice. I added a carrot because I like a little extra veggie kick, and it needed to be used up too. If I'd had broccoli and corn, by golly, I'd have thrown that in as well! Chili is like soup, I think: anything goes.

Ryan was skeptical at first, but changed his mind after taking a bite. So if you're short on time, here's a delicious weeknight recipe that will hit the spot for vegetarians and omnivores alike.

Quick Veggie Chili

1 15-oz can organic black beans, drained and rinsed

1 15-oz can organic pinto beans, drained and rinsed

1 28-oz can organic whole peeled tomatoes (or diced tomatoes)

1 or 2 jalapenos, seeded and minced

1/2 medium onion, diced

1 carrot, peeled and chopped

1/2 cup fresh cilantro

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 teaspoon cumin

1-2 tablespoons olive oil

Garnish: additional cilantro, chopped avocado, and sour cream

Prep the veggies. In a large, heavy-bottomed pot on medium, heat the oil. Add the onions, garlic, jalapeno, and carrots, and saute until the onions become translucent. (If your pan gets too hot and the garlic begins to burn, just add a little of the tomato juice.)

After 3-5 minutes, add the beans, tomatoes, cilantro, and cumin, and stir. Lower the heat and simmer for 20 minutes, or until the flavors come together. Serve with chopped avocado, extra cilantro, and a nice dollop of sour cream.

Makes about 6 servings; freezes well.

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Part 2: The Reaction

Years ago—and I'm sure that my Dad won't remember saying this, and that's ok—I asked my Dad what he'd think if I became a vegetarian.

"I'd disown you, honey." He said it with love, of course, but I detected absolutely no sarcasm in his voice.

I laughed it off, as the possibility of me becoming vegetarian was so out there that it didn't matter anyway.

But imagine my trepidation when I did in fact decide that I'd be embarking on this journey? All of a sudden, I felt like I was going to have to have The Talk with my father. That I'd have to come out to him as One Who Will Henceforward Revoke Meat.

It went over pretty smoothly, though (she said, disappointment looming in her voice). Ryan and I went to my dad's house to watch the football game, and around halftime, when everyone was getting hungry, the topic of lunch came up.

"Well, I guess we can't do Louie Mueller, since you're a vegetarian now."

WHAT!? How did he know? Who told him? I needed to have the discussion with him face-to-face and here, he already knew?

"Well, um, who, um--how, um... Huh?"

"Margaret is on your facebook and she said you mentioned something about going vegetarian. I guess you can just eat the beans, though, right?"

Well, now that was easy. Granted, I was stricken with the idea of not touching any jalapeno links from my favorite BBQ joint. Le sigh.

Other family members have made jokes that me and the other cousins who set dietary restrictions should sign "Dietary Treaties," and friends have asked if I'm going to have to take a lot of supplements to make up for not eating meat.

Some people have acknowledged the decision as a tough one and wish me luck; others flat out say I'm crazy, and don't I like bacon?

The last time I had meat was exactly two weeks ago; as a start to the meal, I had a sweet potato bisque with a maple reduction and topped with Nueske bacon. The piece of meat for saying goodbye was a perfect 8-ounce filet mignon from a very happily raised Wisconsin cow. It was one helluva way to say au revoir, that's for sure.

Image: Flickr member uberculture, licensed under Creative Commons.

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Part 1: The Conversion

Before I begin, I want you to know a few things.

Most importantly, I grew up on a farm. I don't just mean there was a farm behind our house; I mean, my grandparents ran a working farm as their means of living. We had cattle, sheep, and crops. In the fall, we loved going to the barn because of the trailer full of soft cottonseed. We loved giving the cows salt licks, and I had the distinction of being the oldest so I got to go up to the hay loft, cut open bails with wire cutters, and pitch down hay into the trough.

I have known my whole life where beef comes from, and even though my siblings and I would name the cows every year, I understood that the little white parcels with red stamps reading, "Bone-in ribeye" or "Chuck roast" were the cow's (many of them were named after Disney characters) way of saying, "Thanks for giving me such a beautiful life on the farm."

In fact, I don't have a problem with meat that is raised in the same way I was so familiar with growing up: a family of farmers pitches hay from the loft to the trough, never takes a vacation from tending the animals, and is sure to round up the chickens every night before the sun sets.

It wasn't until I learned of the atrocities of factory farming that I began to think that meat-eating wasn't such a great idea. Industrial agriculture, from the prominence of high fructose corn syrup in processed foods to the way commercial animal farming operations (better known as CAFOs or factory farms) are run, makes me squeamish and conjures up images of animal suffering, biohazards being dumped into processed foods, and swampish pools of byproducts and waste. Gross.

On a micro level, foods grown (the word grown is too organic; let's used processed) that way make us unhealthy. One look at obesity rates and Type II diabetes statistics, and that's clear: our food is making us sick. And food-borne illnesses are on the rise, too; the E. coli outbreaks in meat as well as vegetables (between spinach and tomatoes), and other things like salmonella account for 76 million illnesses in the U.S. each year.

On the macro level, though, these gigantic industrial food plants are directly causing huge amounts of pollution and making entire communities sick (studies show that children who live near factory farms have higher instances of asthma).

It's not just because I'm 200 pages in to Jonathan Safran Foer's Eating Animals that I bring this up; over the last few months, I've been making gradual changes in my diet. After reading Omnivore's Dilemma (Michael Pollan) and seeing Food, Inc. especially, we started cutting out things like fast food and sodas. We became Readers of Ingredients Lists. We began shopping regularly at the farmers market and bringing home vegetables from my mom's garden.

This weekend, I did the unthinkable. I turned down BBQ from the one place I never thought I'd forsake: Louie Mueller BBQ, where I grew up eating award-winning brisket and jalapeno sausage. Excuse me for a moment while I drool all over my keyboard.

I watched as my family enjoyed hot links, ribs, and moist brisket, not tasting a bite—all in the name of my newest personal endeavor.

I'm going vegetarian and I'm determined to be successful.

Coming up: Part 2, The Reaction....

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