Wordless Wednesday: Bad Boys Pasta Party

Bad Boys Pasta Party
Chef Curated Experiences
with Cattivo and Peace Cheese

Died and Gone to Veggie Heaven

I never made it to Veggie Heaven. Beloved as it was, and still is to those who can’t relinquish hope that it may someday return, this classic Austin establishment perished during the height of the pandemic. In fact, as “luck” would have it, the announcement came on the very day that I moved here. Maybe I’m better off not knowing what I’m missing. It’s hard to say, but its lingering influence can’t be ignored. References to Protein 2000 pop up frequently enough to trigger a sense of anemoia.

What Is Protein 2000?

Digging through the internet archives, the original menu description is as follows:

“So what exactly is the Protein 2000, A.K.A. the P2000? This is the number one question asked, as it is the most popular dish we serve. The P2000 is made out of soy protein isolate that is the result of separating protein from the whole soybean. The end result is a curd with a texture that resembles chicken. With 45 grams of protein per cup, it is an excellent protein source for vegetarians. The Protein 2000 is battered and fried to add that crispy texture and then sautéed in sweet brown sauce. So why was it named Protein 2000? This dish was created at the end of 1999 and was given the number 2000 to commemorate the year 2000.”

Recreating An Imperfect Copy

Recreating a dish you’ve never tasted before is both difficult and effortless. Difficult, because it’s impossible to determine whether or not its been recreated faithfully, as originally intended, hitting all the same high notes of the genuine article. It’s also a snap because without that frame of reference, as long as it tastes good, I’d call it a success. From the trail of breadcrumbs left behind as clues and a basic understanding of Chinese-American food, I feel reasonably confident that although imperfect, this formula should come close enough to scratch that same itch.

Takeout At Home

Essentially broccoli and beef through a plant-based lens, fried soy protein meets tender broccoli florets under a silky blanket of garlic-infused brown sauce. Large TVP chunks are the key to making a more accurate copycat, but at the same time, aren’t essential to making a great meal. They’re more difficult to find outside of online stores than classic staples like tofu or seitan, which make equally great protein options.

Making New Memories

Shared memories of Veggie Heaven and this iconic dish remain, looming large in the minds of those who were lucky enough to savor it. Even if I never get the chance to taste the real thing, there’s comfort in knowing that the spirit of the place lives on, in our hearts, homes, and stomachs.

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Center of the Cinnamon Roll

It’s not every day, or even every year, that I get the chance to share a guest post on the blog, so you have to know that this one’s special. I’m lucky enough to have a local chef Craig Vanis of Bistro Vonish joining us to share a story that’s both personal and delicious. As someone with a deep love for food and tradition, Craig reflects on the small yet unforgettable moments that food can create. Especially as we near Mother’s Day, it feels especially poignant as he takes us back in time to his grandmother’s kitchen, where cinnamon rolls were more than just a treat, but also a symbol of connection and joy. It’s a real treat to have him share that moment in time along with the recipe that’s been a part of his family for years. -HK

Somehow, grandmas always have the best treats. It’s a fact. Maybe our memories of those goodies tasting so great is due to a childish regression. Or maybe, and I think this is more likely, everyone is factually correct in remembering their grandma’s snacks as superlative. Having those little treats at Grandma’s house is always going to be a little slice of joy so wholesome that Norman Rockwell wouldn’t even know where to begin.

Being a descendant of Bohemian immigrants, kolaches were a must have at Grandma Vanis’s house (only the sweet varieties are “kolache” in a Czech home, and the poppyseed filling is especially popular). But kolaches were not my favorite treat in her kitchen. My favorite? The Cinnamon Roll. Yes. Singular Cinnamon Roll. Specifically, Grandma’s Giant Cinnamon Roll (™). How giant? Giant. About 10 inches across. Approximately 120 cubic inches. It was as if a whole loaf of monkey bread was twirled to maximized cinnamon-sugar surface area. “Quick! Tell me about grandma’s cinnamon roll.” I’d say, “It’s huge!”

Her mid-western farm house was always abuzz with innumerable grand kids, and eventually, great grand kids. The Cinnamon Roll was an ever-winding solitary behemoth, spiraling out to the far reaches of a large pie pan. A horizontal monolith of hypnotic enjoyment. We would cut sections off of the outer edge as the circumference tightened in on itself (full disclosure: we probably used our fingers unless an adult was watching), relishing each delightful morsel while we caught up with the extended family.

There’s a delicate dance to this ritual where you do not want to fill up too much on the outer layers, lest you miss being the lucky duck whose final big bite includes the point from which all cinnamon-sugar elation radiates. The very concept of a dopamine rush made incarnate and leavened with yeast. The headliner in this amazing festival of treats. The checkered flag in the pastry grand prix. The Center. The Center of Grandma’s Giant Cinnamon Roll (™).

This is where the cinnamon-sugar is concentrated while being endlessly wound during assembly. It is where the icing pools and gently soaks in while the pastry race is in progress. And unlike other cinnamon rolls, this center is attained by beating your siblings and cousins in a criterium race to the treasure. Eat too little and you’ll never get there. Eat too much and you’ll be too full to compete at crunch time. It’s not just that the center is the moistest, or sweetest, or gooiest. The center of this cinnamon roll tastes like victory.

The rules to this game of Duck Duck Cinnamon Goose chasing bites around the pie pan are sacred. And it is this sanctity which keeps the calm and order during this adventure. And woe to whomever skips ahead to pluck The Center before it is time. That person will meet the wrath of this sugar-fueled mob, and feel the ire of a whole half of a family tree. This betrayal will plant a grudge that will persist for decades.

So be warned. This Ceylon-spiced key to delight can also unlock a bedlam not known since William Golding stranded that group of British school boys on an island.

Now that you know the stakes, I offer this recipe up to you, dear reader, in hopes of sharing a sliver of these happy memories with you and your loved ones.

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Finessing Fennel

Fennel is not a common line item on my grocery list. Apparently, the same can be said for most of America, judging by the distinct lack of bulbs chilling in the produce department. Fresh fennel is one of those ingredients that I’ll buy for a recipe, kick myself for not buying more often after remembering its brilliance, and promptly forgetting again. Though polarizing like cilantro, the licorice-like flavor is one that I love. That fresh, herbal flavor that shines through whether cooked or raw is utterly inimitable.

Most recipes focus on the crisp base itself, forsaking the stalks and fronds. After going through all the trouble (and expense) of getting fresh fennel, you’d better believe I’m not about to let any of it go to waste. Fennel pesto is an easy solution for zero-waste satisfaction.

Apply liberally anywhere you’d use basil pesto. Pasta; salad; bruschetta; rice pilaf; soup; anywhere you want a little botanical infusion can benefit from a spoonful. If you want a drink pairing, try any gin cocktail to pick up on the complex aromatics found within.

How could anyone forsake the delicate fronds and more robust stems of fennel, especially after going through the trouble of securing the whole vegetable? For your own happiness, health, and frugality, never throw away any part of fennel again. If you like it enough to cook with it, you’ll love squeezing out every last drop of flavor.

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Your Life or Your Lupins

Soybeans get all the fame and glory as the premiere meatless protein, but what if I told you there was another bean that could steal the spotlight with ease? Lupini beans are the dark horse rivals, vying for legume supremacy, almost doubling the protein content of whole soybeans. Think that soy foods are unique, chalking up tofu, soymilk, tempeh, and more as a clear soybean success story? Just wait until you see what the humble lupin can do.

The Lupin Spin

First, the confusion of naming needs to be addressed. “Lupini” is the Italian plural form referring to the seeds of the lupin plant. Lupine and lupin are both common names for the same flowering plant genus, Lupinus. The genus is part of the legume family, which also includes peanuts. There are over 200 species of lupine, though not all are edible. Some, like the beloved Texas bluebonnet, are actually poisonous. Don’t go digging up your garden in search of a feast, and on that note, be careful to keep them away from curious pets, who are more susceptible to the measured dose of poison in an unsuspecting seed.

Lupini Through History

Lupini beans are just starting to get their big break, but they’ve been around as a reliable food source since roughly 3000 BCE. Hailing from the Mediterranean and the Near East, evidence shows that the ancient the Egyptians and Romans knew the value of a good lupin when they saw it. During the Middle Ages, lupins were grown in Europe not only as a food source but also as a nitrogen-fixing crop to improve soil quality. They were commonly planted as part of crop rotations to enhance soil fertility. In the modern era, lupins have been gaining attention as a sustainable, high-protein legume now that the sweet lupin has been selectively bred for better taste and ease of consumption. Early lupins were often relegated to animal feed given their bitter nature, which also explains their slow start on the mainstream market.

The Cooking Conundrum

The biggest barrier to entry, aside from sourcing the beans to begin with, is cooking them. Even the newer “sweet” strain requires a concerted effort when it comes to cooking, in an attempt to remove more of the bitter alkaloids and break down almost impenetrably tough skins. This is also why you’ll often find them pickled, not dry or canned. Pickled lupini beans are ready to eat and infused with salty, savory flavor. The most popular brand in health food stores packages theirs in pouches; old school labels sell glass jars, found in the import section in specialty or gourmet stores.

Although you can of course buy dried lupini beans, I don’t recommend it. To beat them into submission, or some version of edibility, you would need to:

  1. Cover with cold water and soak for 24 hours.
  2. Drain, add fresh water, and simmer for 2 hours.
  3. Cool completely, drain, and add more cold water.
  4. Soak overnight. Drain and replace the water.
  5. Boil for 45 minutes – 1 hour. Drain and replace the water.
  6. Soak overnight. Drain and replace the water.
  7. Boil for 45 minutes – 1 hour. Drain and replace the water.
  8. Soak overnight. Drain and replace the water.
  9. Taste for doneness. If still bitter or gritty, repeat the boiling process.
  10. Add salt and store submerged in water, like pickles.

If you’re willing to sacrifice roughly a week of your life to this process, be my guest. You’re far more patient than me.

What Do Lupini Beans Taste Like?

I thought you’d never ask! Sweet lupins are poised to be the new edamame; large and flat as fava beans or gigante beans, yellowish tan in color, and encased in a substantial but edible skin, you can peel them or eat them as is. Mild in flavor and firm in texture, they’re an ideal bar snack served either hot or cold, and especially with a salty finish. Aside from eating them out of hand, they’re excellent tossed in salads and simmered in soups, since they won’t fall apart for anything.

Beyond The Whole Bean

Consider lupini beans for further applications beyond immediate eating gratification, and that’s where things get interesting.

  • Lupin flour holds incredible promise as a gluten-free, keto, high-protein staple, capable of creating highly nutritious pastas, cakes, cookies, breads, and more. Blended with water and seasonings, it could become a liquid egg substitute, too.
  • Lupin “rice” is an alternative to the conventional whole grain, made more like an orzo pasta for quick cooking applications.
  • Ground lupin or lupin flakes are a coarser take on flour, approximating the texture of grits or savory oatmeal when cooked.
  • Lupin milk, though rare in US markets, is taking off primarily in Europe, noted for its excellent frothing abilities in lattes, thanks to its naturally high protein content.
  • Lupin cheese is every bit as varied and versatile as the average nut cheese, ranging in texture and flavor from creamy ricotta to sliceable, buttery Havarti.
  • Lupin tempeh isn’t a stretch of the imitation, as any bean can be tempeh-fied.
  • Lupin tofu is similarly successful as a soy-free alternative, more aligned with Burmese “chickpea tofu” in preparation rather than the traditional coagulated soymilk approach.

Where Do You Get Your Protein

Okay, let’s get the protein talk out of the way. One cup of cooked lupini beans does in fact have 26 – 30 grams of complete protein, including all 9 essential amino acids. Incredibly high in fiber, they’re the only bean that has 0 grams net carbs per serving. Additionally, they’re a good source of manganese, copper, magnesium, phosphorus, potassium, zinc, folate, and vitamin A.

However, there is one big nutritional red flag about lupini beans that I briefly mentioned earlier. Being part of the peanut family, those with severe peanut allergies may have similar sensitivities when exposed to lupins of any variety. If that’s the case, avoid lupins and any lupin products to be safe.

From Unknown to Unforgettable

Lupini beans have lost their harsh edge and are ready for their closeup. To get the most bang for your bean buck with a protein-packed legume, look no further. They’re versatile enough to transform from a quick fix snack to your new secret ingredient in all things baked and cooked. I think they’re the next big thing in bean technology, personally, and I’m here for it.