From Björn Moschinski's Cookbook, vegan kochen für alle: Tomato-Coconut Soup.
Although these days, I am more likely to whip up a meal based solely upon what I see in my refrigerator, I, too, began my adventures into veganism by using a recipe book. Many, many books, actually. I grew up in the southern United States, where mashed potatoes are vegetables (to say nothing of the now-ancient ruling which also elevated macaroni & cheese to vegetable status) and a meal is incomplete -- unthinkable, actually -- without some kind of meat (extra points to the chef if he hunted it himself). A typical meal during my formative years began with a chicken breast, rolled in egg and bread crumbs, pan-fried, and ended up on my plate beside a serving of white rice -- vegetables usually came out of cans or freezer bags, unless we happened to be enjoying a summer harvest from my grandfather's garden (green beans and corn were staples, whether fresh or frozen).
I'm not saying that it's all bad -- by now, if you're a regular reader, you know that I also use canned and frozen vegetables, which are often a great -- and convenient -- supplement to in-season, fresh produce, and I still eat rice. What I'm saying is, if you're struggling to conceptualize the components of a vegan dinner plate, rest assured that it was very, very difficult for me, too. Because if I'm being honest, I had a very, very limited prior knowledge of what could be understood under the word "vegetable" -- growing up, we ate carrot sticks, but I was disgusted by the rest of the classic veggie platter; I would eat celery only if it had a healthy clump of peanut butter and raisins smeared on it, and my brother ate broccoli if it had cheese melted on top; I eventually developed a liking for peas.
To tell the truth, vegetables -- and fruit -- were often largely overlooked in my family. I was much better acquainted with crackers and chips, boxed cereals, and, frankly, ice cream. Lest you start to wrinkle your nose in disgust or, worse, pity me, I'd be willing to bet that my childhood diet wasn't too different from yours -- if you were once a kid in America, you know that your lunch options were chicken nuggets and french fries, or a peanut butter & jelly sandwich brought from home; packaged applesauce was a fruit (that you threw away without opening), and if you put ketchup on your hot dog, you'd gotten in a full serving of vegetables (unfortunately, I'm not making that one up, either).
But there was something maybe less typical about my childhood, because when I was ten, my father suffered a massive heart attack which ended his life before his fiftieth birthday. Although it certainly wasn't clear to me then, as the years passed and I watched more and more of my family members struggling with heart conditions, high blood pressure, and high cholesterol, it became clear to me that, albeit one obvious sign of a poor diet, obesity is not a prerequisite for a heart attack: even thin and active people, if they choose to fill their bodies with high-fat food, can be taken by surprise.
It was first for heath reasons that I decided to adopt a vegan diet. At that stage, I truly did regard it purely as a diet change. I wanted to fill my body with things that were good for me. Although there are certainly ways to be healthy while eating animal products, I had a difficult time imagining ways to use those products, already known to me, in new, healthier ways. I knew that if I didn't eliminate cheese as an option, I would hide all of my vegetables under a pile of cheese; if I allowed myself to keep eating meat, I would never learn to enjoy a salad as more than a side-show. So I removed all animal products from the equation: I was going to learn how to work with vegetables -- almost exclusively with vegetables.
And so it wasn't an easy transition for me, either. On my first trip to the produce section as a newly-committed vegan, I was immediately overwhelmed by the huge selection of things I'd never seen before. I remember looking at an artichoke and panicking because I had no idea what that thing was. I realized right away that meandering blindly into the grocery store and just picking up a few things wasn't going to turn me into a vegan chef overnight. I left empty-handed.
I went to a bookstore, and sat for an hour in the cooking section until I found one good, big vegan cookbook. The mark of a high-quality vegan cookbook, incase you're wondering, is a detailed section on the daily essential vitamins and minerals (and where to find them) and very precise, step-by-step preparation guides. If you're not used to cooking with fresh herbs, with nuts, seeds, soy products, etc., the first failed tofu dish will take the wind out of your sails pretty fast. You can do yourself and your self-esteem a favor and avoid that moment by purchasing a cookbook.
So -- although I've been around the block a few times by now, I am not too proud to look up a recipe. That's not to say that I follow every one exactly... You'll learn to "tweak" things to your own liking and to use a recipe as a starting point for a new, creative endeavor.
Last Christmas, I received an awesome gift from my mother- & father-in-law -- a cookbook written by Björn Moschinski, a famous Berlin-based vegan chef. tin and I had already been to his restaurant, Kopps, once (with her parents) and thus when I unwrapped the book I was all smiles, totally excited to be armed with another slew of awesome recipes. By now, I've made a few things out of it, and today, I'm going to pass one particularly out-of-this-world soup on to you. Believe it or not, this is one recipe that I leave essentially unaltered -- it's already perfect, as written.
I will, however, translate it for you.
Tomato-Coconut Soup.
Ingredients for four servings:
1 kg (2.2 lbs) of tomatoes
2 medium-sized white onions
1 tsp. raw sugar
5 Tbsp. olive oil
30 g tomato paste
500 mL vegetable broth
500 mL coconut milk
fresh basil
salt
pepper
Bring a pot of water to a boil -- while you wait, prepare an ice bath (a large bowl of ice-cold water). Remove the tomatoes from their green vines and on the other end, cut a cross-formation into the skin. Place them into the boiling water for 10-15 seconds; move them immediately to the ice bath. This process will loosen the skins and make them easy to remove. Dice the skinless tomatoes -- feel fee to remove the cores.
I, personally, really like the tomato skins. I eliminate this step. The skins are likely to distance themselves from the flesh of the tomato proper during the cooking process, but I find them pleasant in the end product. I happen to be a fan of chunkier soups in general -- I also leave my tomatoes in bigger pieces (I cut mine into four wedges, and each wedge again in half). This is, of course, your call.
Skin and dice the onions. Place them in a large pot with the olive oil and sugar. As soon as the onions start to take on color and caramelize, add the tomato paste. Allow everything to cook together for 2-3 minutes. Add the diced tomatoes and cook for five minutes. Finally, add the liquids (vegetable broth and coconut milk) and allow everything to cook on low for another 15 minutes.
To finish, blend the soup with an immersion blender. Serve in bowls with fresh basil leaves, and salt & pepper to taste.
Again. I'm a fan of chunky soups. I don't blend my final product, preferring instead to see the pieces of tomato and to really get a distinct bite of fresh tomato versus the tomato-coconut broth.
This soup can also be prepared ahead and held warm on low heat.
I like to serve this one with super-crunchy toasted old bread, for which I prefer to use a country wheat variety. I slice it super-thin (about 1/4") and toast it until it has the crispiness of a large crouton. To top the warm croutons, I prepared a simple herb butter using two tablespoons of margarine, two teaspoons of freshly-squeezed lemon juice, and two teaspoons of fresh parsley.
tin and I both find this unexpected tomato/coconut combination delightfully sweet and creamy. We also find it very filling -- which means that we always have two leftover servings to look forward to for the next night.
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