Monday nights around here are reserved for fun. That's the night my home is invaded by three hungry ninjas. Inspired by a desire for convenience or health or challenge (or all of the above) I usually attempt to provide a meal. Last night, I made Curried Cauliflower Soup, a recipe I discovered in an old issue of Vegetarian Times. The picture in the magazine looked yummy, as it so often does, and the ingredient mix was curious.
A head of cauliflower, an onion, a Granny Smith apple, and a couple Tablespoons of curry powder later found me powering up my Ninja, a food-processing gadget I purchased mostly because of the kicking ninja lady on the logo. A few spins around and my soup was happily puréed. I poured the greenish yellow goo back into the soup pot to serve.
At the table, fresh French bread in hand, we're all able to (barely) swallow down a bowl of this concoction. The soup tasted alright, but there's simply no remedy for the texture of finely chopped cauliflower floating in broth. It took a great deal of effort for me to keep myself from gagging at every bite. The ninjas said it was 'pretty good,' but they were quick to turn down a second helping.
A head of cauliflower, an onion, a Granny Smith apple, and a couple Tablespoons of curry powder later found me powering up my Ninja, a food-processing gadget I purchased mostly because of the kicking ninja lady on the logo. A few spins around and my soup was happily puréed. I poured the greenish yellow goo back into the soup pot to serve.
At the table, fresh French bread in hand, we're all able to (barely) swallow down a bowl of this concoction. The soup tasted alright, but there's simply no remedy for the texture of finely chopped cauliflower floating in broth. It took a great deal of effort for me to keep myself from gagging at every bite. The ninjas said it was 'pretty good,' but they were quick to turn down a second helping.
So what happens when you feed hungry guys a disappointing foo foo vegetarian soup for dinner? They conspire to find a dish that is diametrically opposed to what they just consumed. Enter the ''cake shake," an experiment to test the laws of culinary physics and hilarity.
Ingredients:
One store-bought chocolate cake, frosting removed, chunked
An unspecified amount of Half and Half
Chocolate syrup (just in case)
Pinch of nonsense
Directions: Place chunks of de-frosted cake into food processor and blend until cake is stuck on sides of blending cup. Scrape cake down with long handled spatula. Add half and half (follow your instincts here; you're looking for a cake to cream ratio that is thick, but not so thick that it can't be sucked up a tiny straw). Blend until your bored or until you count to ten, whichever comes first. Your shake should be the consistency of cake batter. Pour into a cup to serve. Add chocolate syrup if you're determined to take this dessert as far as you can into the realm of the outrageous.
Voila: A dessert that more than made up for the disappointment of my Curried Cauliflower Soup. We effectively cancelled any dietary benefit conferred on our bodies by the vegetables and increased our calorie intake five times over.
I like providing healthy, wholesome foods to eat, but I also want to enjoy the time I spend in the kitchen. Sometimes you have to rule the kitchen, and sometimes you just have to play in it.
Cute story! :)
ReplyDeleteDitto Jen... I think we need to submit this as a fun article in some dessert magazine. You did a great job with this. That cake shake definately made up for the "soup".
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