Speaking of deep fried, I never cease to be amazed at how little damage someone like me manages around a big wok full of hot oil. I mean last week I splashed some hot fat on my eyelash, but considering my track record in the kitchen that’s not much to cause worry. Okay, so almost everything I own has a grease stain but whatever.

If anyone can work out how both my kitchen and bedroom (!!!) doors get coated in food, I’ll mail you some cake. It’ll come flat packed like an Ikea desk.

Vegan Koeksisters

Another South African inspired pudding, this is a bit like tiramisu made with coconut cookies, creamy caramel sauce, and mint chocolate. It’s exceedingly good for the waistline and should be consumed in large quantities.

Okay, so this is less of a recipe and more a suggestion of how to throw together a layered treat of wonderful, but here are some vague measurements anyway. I’ve never actually had one of these made properly (err can anyone confirm if Orley whip is similar to Cool Whip?) but either way this turned out seriously good. And dead easy. And completely gone.

That and the fact that these will be left out for my partner to find while I’m mid-flight over the Atlantic is going to have me pooping myself in tears of laughter for all 8 hours of my time in the air. (Happy Valentine’s Day, captain). Don’t ask.

Vegetarians and vegans know Valentine’s Day love just doesn’t extend to those in need of confectionery memos to communicate their true feelings. Sweethearts infamously contain gelatin, the veggie candy connoisseur’s loathsome adversary, leaving us no textual candy come February.

In case you haven’t heard of conversation hearts, they’re small heart shaped candies sold in the U.S. around this time every year. They’re imprinted with quirky messages from sappy (“UR mine”, “luv you”) to absurd (“whiz kid”) and disinterested (“go home”), and they get updated over time (wondering if “fax me” is still in the lexicon). It’s been more than ten years since I’ve seen one, so I’m probably beyond out of date.

The recipe I used was this one, only instead of gelatin I used agar, and instead of corn syrup I used liquid glucose. The act of heating the agar and water to mix evaporated some liquid, so I threw in a splash of soy milk to make up for it. Blue is bubble gum (I used a monin syrup to flavour these suckers), pink is vanilla, and yellow (coloured with turmeric) is lemon. The shapes are also a lot bigger (did you really think I’d go out in search of a tiny heart shaped cutter), but thinner so not too sickly.

The writing? Yes, I did it with toothpicks. Classy (err) and neat (not), but effective (partially). The theme? Veggie, dejected, your mom, and attitude. What did you expect?

Happy anti-valentine’s day, kids.

Initially I made this recipe for dairy free chocolate mousse from absolute scratch, grating fresh coconut meat and kneading it with warm water to procure fresh cream. I used the leftover shredded coconut to engage in the world’s most failed cookie experiment, but the mousse was a dessert hedonist’s dream- just 1/2 cup was more than enough for one person (this little piggy couldn’t even handle that much). I’ve toned it down a little here, both in method and richness, swapping the fresh coconut milk for tinned and opting for 50% soy (or other non dairy) milk.

Recipe notes

If you want the ultimate in dessert debauchery you should forsake the other non-dairy milk for 100% coconut milk. If you opt for the extra richness this brings, however, consider cutting the serving sizes down a little (it’s scrumptious but crazy decadent).

The flavour extract you use for this vegan chocolate mousse is down to personal choice. I’ve used  rum, orange, and coffee, which is why those are the only three listed in the recipe itself. I’d wager mint would be a winner, as would many fruit essences. Coffee syrups might even work! Then of course there’s the option of chocolate extract for super chocolately chocolate goodness. I bet some hazelnuts would be more than moderately awesome mixed in there, too.

Just make sure you cover it with clingfilm once the pudding has been poured into its serving dish(es). This is to keep that funky fridge film from forming on top of the dessert.

In less than two weeks I fly back to my home county to participate in what will no doubt be 2.5 weeks of mom pressuring me to down her syrupy Manischewitz wine, with the occassional venture out to source my real drug of choice (coffee, duh). This is the home in which I spent the majority of my childhood, from my mud-bathing tomboyish girlhood to my bitchy and sulky teenage years (sorry about that mom and dad).

I moved out for the first time at 18 or 19, returning home in between moves (Western Maryland, home, Texas, home, Wyoming, home, England- well, it’s been nearly ten years now). I hope to never again move “home” (when does this word stop being applicable to the residence of your youth?), but it’s nonetheless a treat to return and be someone’s kid again. It’s the little things like knowing someone has stocked the fridge with vegan food so I can microwave (another novelty as we don’t own one) a quick snack after the long flight, being treated to long lunches at the restaurant of my choice, dad constantly offering me the keys to his truck (and occasionally coming out shopping with me, his least favourite activity).

Of course my holidays consist of more than just avoiding sickly church wine, and it goes without saying if you know my mother that she’s no drunk as I may have portrayed her. I really spend my time between Whole Foods and Borders, visually gorging on food imagery and building a mental library of kitchen tasks I want to attempt once I’m home. I visit these two places almost every single day during my trips, sometimes spending hours sipping on lattes while updating my reading list. You see one thing the US does better than anywhere else is the colossal bookshop and coffee shop combination. A customer isn’t made to feel like a criminal for browsing rather than buying, so it makes for the perfect evening out (and believe me, there are plenty of teenagers who gather alongside me so I can’t be that uncool). Food and books, books and food. Sandwich some design work between the two and that’s my life summarised.

It’s only in the last couple of years I’ve realised my parents’ collections of vintage cookbooks, those gathered in their youth or passed down from their parents. Some they’re not ready to part with, but I managed to convince my mother to give The Encyclopedia of Cooking in 24 Volumes by Ruth Berolzheimer a new home. From what I can find they originally came secured in some sort of binder, but my mother the book covering queen must have at some point swapped that for her own paper covers instead. The set is complete and the contents are much of what you’d expect from a 1953 cooking series: basic ingredients and bacon fat (sadly there is no chex mix book in the set).

I’ve sampled a few of the recipes, exchanging animal fats for vegan friendly alternatives, with reasonable success. Sometimes, however, I feel like this stack of little gems is neglected. Yesterday I picked up Sauces, Gravies and Dressings (do you remember those sticker tape letter-punch labelers? That’s how these are labeled) and decided on the simple but tooth decayingly sweet sounding butterscotch fudge sauce.

The original recipe of course calls for butter as well as a mix of light and dark sugars, plus some water and corn syrup. I kept the quantities vaguely in place, swapping out some water for another bit of soy margarine (since the sort I use is so high in water content anyway). I also opted for all dark brown sugar and added a little more salt than suggested, but should you use an already salted margarine I’d definitely cut back from what I listed in my adapted recipe below.

The end product is a very thick caramelly, a little molasses-like butterscotch sauce, the result of which I still have no intended use beyond eating neat. I stirred a teaspoon full into my partner’s coffee last night and that worked well. He suggested it as a filling for chocolates, so I may later get to work with that big chunk of Valrhona in the cupboard. In the meanwhile I’ll enjoy it by the fingerful. It’s a good thing I’ve taken to stretchy skirts and tights this year.

Soft, rich, and delicious, molasses cookies are a solid favourite around the holidays. These are rolled in course demerera sugar for a crispy outside with a soft, doughy centre.

I added glacé cherries to the mix because, well, because they’re awesome. Honestly, however, they don’t make a huge difference because they’re a bit too mild to mix with the bold flavour of molasses. It’ll be ginger in the mix next time, for certain.

So I’ve become completely smitten with coconut and making my own coconut milk, but there’s just so much leftover coconut meat. Being a) a hoarder and b) afraid of waste (hello Ms keep-it-in-the-fridge-until-it-turns-blue-rather-than-throw-it-away), I’ve been toasting it and tupperware storing it.

The toasted coconut stocks in my flat are out of control lately though, so I’ve been trying to think of things in which I can use the stuff. Cookies just seemed the perfect solution. Light and delicious, these quick vegan coconut cookies at least went down well with my partner!

I’ve been the last two weeks pretty much playing non-stop with my new Vitamix, a gadget for which I’ve long yearned and have finally acquired. One of the biggest pros about the machine, from these peepers at least, is its ability to quickly and easily make nut butters. With great masses of peanut, cashew, and almond butters stacking up in my limited kitchen space, however, I needed something to actually do with it all.

Vaguely reminiscent of the popular Indian sweet Badam Pak, this vegan fudge uses an almond butter base for both texture and flavour. Almond butter is a smooth and creamy paste with a mild enough flavour to take on the stronger essences of coffee and chocolate, thus making the perfect foundation for a flavoured non-dairy fudge.

Vegan fudge recipe notes

Getting the consistency of the sugar syrup right is fairly important, but the worst that will happen if you don’t is your fudge won’t be as solid. You’ve got a couple of options at this point, the easiest being to roll tablespoonfuls into balls (which you can then coat with sugar, chopped nuts, or paperclips. Except possibly not the latter).

The second option is to remove some of the moisture by cooking the mixture further. If you opt for this choice, make sure the heat isn’t too high and that you stir constantly.

Recipe Notes

I’m a big fan of getting creative in the kitchen, whether it’s with a recipe of my own or an already composed winner from a favourite cook book. The same rule applies to this bonbon recipe, so I encourage you to use your imagination with these cute cookies, to go crazy with colour combinations, fillings, and toppings. Dried fruits, candied ginger, chocolate chunks, anything you think would make an agreeable centre. And who said there was anything wrong with an electric blue cookie with hot pink icing? Topped with almond slivers and chocolate chips?

Achieve a marbled effect with the dough by waiting until everything is mixed before adding the colouring, mixing it in last until your dough acquires the desire look. Heck, why not try multiple colours?

Yes, these cookies would be great for children. This I know, because I am one. A children, that is. Not a cookie.

When I discussed making anatomically correct cookies last week, anise cutouts were truly the base of the inspiration. Another annual mother-daughter(s) event, decorating these cookies was one of the highlights of my year and, despite no longer celebrating Christmas, I cannot help but continue this seasonal tradition on my own. Unfortunately with age the patience to make body part cookies has worn ever so slightly thin. Must regress again to childhood.

Recipe Notes

Based on a classic family recipe, everyone in mine seems to have a preference for how these cookies are made. Some like them burnt, some don’t like sugar sprinkles and others express size preferences. Here are a few tips to get what you want out of your cookie:

• To obtain a crisp and slightly burnt cookie roll the dough out very thinly and/or use smaller cookie cutters and/or increase baking time by a minute or three.
• If you prefer a softer end result, don’t go thinner than 1/8 inch and err on the side lesser cooking.
• To piss off your uncle, put a tonne of coloured sugar on as decoration. Of course I don’t know this out of experience or anything.
• For evenness in cooking, try to make sure all the cookies in the oven at one time are of uniform size and thickness.

Which I am not. I just like egg(less)nog.

And coffee.

Recipe Notes

Depending on the desired consistency of the end result, you can use between 1/4 and 1/3 a cup of water. Obviously the former will produce a thicker syrup and, in my case, so will the latter. This is because I would have spilled all of the extra water down myself.

If you feel the need, you can strain the spices, but I personally like the texture.

Not a coffee fan? Don’t worry; this recipe is good for lots of other things too. Have a few suggestions:

• Pancake syrup
• Hot cocoa enhancer
• Top your favourite ice-cream(less)
• With hot rum (okay I’m making this up, but it does sound good
• Flavour cakes
• An easy gift in a pretty bottle!

The last time I visited my family in the U.S. my mother passed along an old German baking manual and I recently got around to taking a look at its inspiring if somewhat dated recipes. A German book printed in the early 1970s at a guess, there’s no such thing as a vegan recipe in its contents. It’s a good thing veganising most (imagine me sighing in memory of macarons) cookies is pretty straightforward!

When I bake cookies, I have all sorts of good intentions. I tell myself things like “just have 2 or 3 a day and they will last” or “maybe if you only make a dozen you’ll be more likely to savour them so they last until the weekend.” Sometimes I even tell myself I should save some for my hard-working husband.

I generally eat all the cookies by myself, quickly. Paul, if he’s lucky, might manage to scavenge a couple.

Recipe Notes

Raise your hand if you’ve already thought, “but wait a minutes! Those aren’t black and white cookies!” What you might traditionally think of as black and white cookies are coated with split black and white fondant frosting, apparently quite a favourite in New York. These cookies, however, resemble a shortbread with a mild cocoa rum twist.

I use a couple of teaspoons of rum in the recipe. Its impact on the overall flavour isn’t huge, but it does add a mellow extra something. If you don’t have any though, I don’t think the world will end if you leave it out.

Get creative with the dough! You’ve got two different colours on your hands, so twist and twirl it to your heart’s content and make some cool designs! The easiest is to make two small balls of dough and press together. Other options include mixing the dough together a bit so you get a swirled effect. You can also roll the dough into thin snakes for spiral effects.

German cookies tend to use far less sugar than American and British counterparts. This of course means they are less sweet, but it doesn’t mean they’re less good! Besides, it means it’s more acceptable that I eat virtually the entire batch by myself.

Right?

My husband has a hard time with this one, not I believe because of its flavour, but because it’s hard for him (and many people) to conceive of certain foods being served in certain ways.

“But think about pumpkin pie,” I said. He reminded me pumpkin pie is not so common in the UK. Oops. Well I think it’s good.

So yes, it’s a little like pumpkin pie ice cream. I had a big kabocha/sweet mama squash sitting around being begged to be used and I got to thinking about what could be made of the thing. I knew I’d roast some, but not all, so what about the rest? Ice cream! Why not?

Recipe Notes

I steamed my squash by cutting into small pieces and placing in a bamboo steamer lined with greaseproof paper. If you have a steaming basket, that works too.

I purposely made the recipe not too sickly sweet, but hubby thinks it’s perhaps not sweet enough. I still disagree but if you’ve got a great big sweet tooth then you might want to consider adding more than 1/3 cup of sugar.

If preferred, you can filter the mixture through a sieve to remove any ginger pieces or little strands of squash before adding it to your ice cream maker. This is, however, by no means necessary.

Don’t have kabocha squash? How about trying pumpkin or butternut squash instead?