My Polish Nana’s was an exceptional cook and the wizard behind my family’s annual Thanksgiving feast. Nana was raised in Brooklyn before the American Chestnut blight made this delicacy scare. By the time I arrived on the scene she was making stuffing with Italian chestnuts and paying premium prices. Leaving them out was out of the question.

This dressing is the true centerpiece of the spread, not optional in the least, and not merely a side to carboholics like myself. The crunchy nuttiness of the chestnuts and the spicy and succulent sausage compliment the seasoned bread so well that everything else on the plate is merely there to riff off its perfection.

For years I made this dressing as soon as Italian chestnuts appeared in the produce aisle. But, not lately. Thanks to decades of work by plant geneticists the blight resistant American/Asian Chestnut was developed, sparking a movement to restore chestnuts to the Appalachians. Homeowners began planting seedlings, anticipating holiday magic in the years ahead. Happily, my vegan sausage version of Nana’s dressing has recently begun featuring chestnuts grown within fifteen miles of my home instead of Italian imports. Many thanks to Tami Schwerin and Lyle Estill for sharing the fruit of their optimism. Nana would be proud!

Here is the recipe. You will also find it archived on our recipe site here.

Chestnut Sausage Dressing – Vegan

Nana’s time-tested masterpiece, veganized

Ingredients:

• Chestnuts, roasted, removed from their shells and chopped – 2 cups, or about 1 pound
• Gimme Lean Sausage, fried – 1 pound
• Bread Cubes (stale preferred, previously frozen is fine) – 6 cups
• Margarine – ¼ cup (half a stick)
• Onion, diced – 1 cup
• Celery, diced – 1 cup
• Vegetable Stock – 1 1/2 cup (I use vegan chicken base or boullion)
• Poultry Seasoning – 1 tablespoon

Directions:

• Prepare chestnuts by roasting, removing the nut from its shell, and chopping.
• In a large pot sauté onion and celery in margarine.
• Add stale bread cubes and toss.
• Combine poultry seasoning with stock and drizzle over bread, tossing to moisten.
• Fry sausage in separate pan.
• Fold in fried sausage and pre-cooked chestnuts. Do not over-stir. What you don’t want is a big glob of dough.
• Taste and adjust seasoning. Resist the urge to add more stock as much as humanely possible.
• Place in a greased casserole and cover.
• Bake at 375 degrees, covered, for 30 minutes.
• Uncover and bake for another 15 minutes.

Notes

• Best to do the chestnuts and bread cubes ahead, especially if assembling this on Thanksgiving morning. You can also chop the onion and celery ahead, and fry the sausage. Heck, you can make the whole casserole several days before the big day and just slip it into the oven like a pro. Last-minute stress adds no flavor to a fine dish.
• To roast chestnuts, score each nut with a sharp knife (this is the dangerous part!), place in a flat pan, and bake, covered, at 400 degrees for 45 minutes to an hour. I do not bother soaking the nuts or double scoring with an X. At 30 minutes, test one nut for doneness. Toss the other nuts around in the pan if returning to the oven. The chestnuts will be done when the shell peels back revealing the starchy golden nut and the nut is mealy, but not mushy. Remove from shell when warm, before the membrane no longer pulls away from the nut easily. Keep them in a covered pot to continue steaming as you peel. After peeling, you can freeze them in case harvest comes well ahead of Thanksgiving. I recommend buying 2 pounds so you can enjoy some while peeling and setting aside your 2 cups.
• If using fresh bread, cut bread into cubes, lay on a cookie sheet and bake at 200 degrees until the cubes firm up – half an hour to an hour.
• I do not recommend substituting corn bread for wheat bread.

I’ve heard Bob say that BLTs are the perfect food so often, that I’ve come to believe it. The health benefits of lettuce and tomatoes are obvious, but news stories about mayonnaise are a pleasant surprise. I remember one about a plane wreck survivor who stayed alive by eating mayonnaise snow cones, and another about Creme Puff, a cat who lived to be 38 on a diet of broccoli, asparagus, bacon, and mayonnaise.

BLTs on sourdough bread bump Bob’s theory into sacred territory. This morning Bob made himself two sandwiches, one on sourdough, and one on the last two slices of ordinary bread. The toasted sourdough made the better sandwich, he said, because it was “more interesting; tangy!”

Bob’s history with the ultimate sandwich goes back to his childhood years in Ghana, when the family cook pampered him with BLTs. We celebrated our first three or four years together with frequent servings of his perfect food. I remember the can of bacon grease beside the stove. I kept it because I’d heard that bacon grease would heal any equine wound, but I don’t recall ever using it on our horses. We’ve since replaced the bacon with tofu, tempeh, and Morningstar Farm bacon strips.

Bread is so fundamental to our diet that we’ve been baking our own since forever. Bob has such a preference for sandwiches, that I’ve nicknamed him “Sandwich Man”. He will find a way to turn nearly any meal into a sandwich. When faced with a bowl of beans and tortillas, he makes burritos. Tofu scramble and toast become “egg” sandwiches. I love the ease of a sandwich, and so we have them for dinner two or three times a week: Cheezsteaks, Sloppy Joes, Grilled Cheez, Cheezburgers, and Rubenz.

We’re especially attracted to sourdough because it tastes so darned good. As an added bonus, its leavening we don’t have to buy. I love the idea that such an essential ingredient makes itself. Sourdough tastes like independence.

More than a flavorful way to rise bread, starters are heirlooms, cherished pets that won’t die until you stop feeding them. Many bakers name their starters. I love that idea, and I’m leaning towards Stinky, or Homer (as in Homer Simpson, “D’oh!”).

It had been at least six years since I baked a loaf of sourdough bread, and I was a little nervous about test driving Linda’s starter. But, with the rich flavor of that BLT lingering in my mouth, I’m happy I plunged in. If we keep eating the perfect food, I may be feeding our new pet for another thirty years. And after that? Well, don’t be surprised if I leave Homer to you in my will!

Here’s my sourdough bread recipe:

Day 1 morning: Feed 50 grams of starter 50 grams each of water and flour.
Day 1 evening: Feed what is now 150 grams of starter with 150 grams each of water and flour. Split off 50 grams and refrigerate until time to feed again in a week. Add 1 tablespoon salt and 1 1/2 cups of water to the remaining starter. Mix well, and add about three cups of flour, enough to make a very wet dough. Let the dough rise in a covered bowl on the counter overnight. Note: you can rise it in the refrigerator for another day or two if you don’t have time to bake the next day, but it will take longer for it to warm up and start rising.

Day 2 morning: Knead another cup or two of flour into the risen dough and let rise until double.
Day 2 afternoon: Knead briefly and put into a proofing bowl until nearly doubled in size
Day 2 evening: Bake at 410 degrees Fahrenheit in a covered Dutch oven for 25 minutes, uncover and bake another 15. Note: make sure the Dutch oven has been heating in the oven since you turned it on. Cool the loaf on a rack. After the bread has cooled, wrap it in plastic to make the crust easier to slice. If you prefer crusty bread, leave it unwrapped.

Day 3 morning: Slice and eat!

We didn’t always have a menu. Like many, Bob and I used to get home hungry after an eight or nine hour day and start thinking about dinner. We’d look in the refrigerator, hoping to come up with something we could make in a hurry without having to run to the store. Or we’d order a pizza. Or open a can of soup and make some sandwiches.

But that was years ago. Now, we always know what we’re having for dinner, sometimes several days in advance, and we can have it ready to eat half an hour after we get home.

It started with a few favorites. We love Italian food so Friday night became Itey Nite, eagerly anticipated vanguard of the weekend. Mexican and Asian soon became standard weekly fare. For as long as I can remember, the Sunday night meal involved potatoes and some chicken-like “meat.” These days we celebrate Sunday night with KFT (Kentucky Fried Tofu).

Bob has always grown food and after all that work it would be a crying shame to waste any of it, so I developed a robust kitchen habit. Nothing makes dinner easier than rinsed lettuce, chopped onions, roasted garlic, pre-cooked beets, and so on. I’d make salads and bake bread, too. After we stopped eating animals, I started making vegan “meat”.

A few years ago I doubled efficiency when I found a magnetic dry erase calendar. I stuck it on the side of the refrigerator next to our prep counter. I plan the menu in black and the prep list in orange. I use an adjacent white board for a shopping list. It is ridiculously easy to stay on track.

Nothing is written in stone. That’s why we use a white board. Whatever comes in the door is what we eat. The menu lets us make the best use of perishable food, helps us meet our goals of eating local, sustainably-grown food, and gives us something to anticipate at the end of the day.

What’s a menu? It’s a guide to delicious, healthy food every night of the week!

Unfortunately Eric was having trouble finding the Post Office so we parked and had to walk past the slaughterhouse. It was a heavy business day. There were trucks all over the place full of cattle, sheep and goats. Some were being unloaded. Huge Brahman cattle with their beautiful big eyes, laying calmly bound in the backs of little pick ups. Goats being dragged across the street by ropes around their necks. Protesting, digging in their feet, not used to being on a leash, bawling.

I told myself not to look. As soon as we stepped from the car my stomach was churning and I could feel tears welling up. “Don’t fall apart here,” I warned myself. Now we were crossing the congested four lane street, winding our way between trucks and foot traffic, animals… I had to look where I was going and try to keep up with Eric. Which was a blessing because he walks fast, with purpose and so there was no lingering. He patted a couple of cows on their heads. They are laying, bound in the back of a small truck, their hip bones protruding. These aren’t the fat cattle I’m used to seeing at the county fairs and stock shows in the U.S.

It was awful. On the other side of the street outside the gates to the abattoir, vendors were roasting fresh offal. I saw an enormous liver on a charcoal grill. I used to like liver and I didn’t mind if I’d seen the animal die a few hours earlier. Now, I’ve gone soft. I looked away, thankful that we did not have to go inside the gate. A cow lay on the ground, legs splayed. Several men stood around it in discussion. Andreas’ words came to mind from that day he took us on his rounds. “Here is the slaughter house,” he said, “ I’ve been inside this. It is horrible.”

I kept my eyes on Eric’s back and hurried along, trying to think only of the post office somewhere up ahead. Letting myself get distracted by the sight of a heavily leafed tree with feet dangling from the bottom branch. A cool resting spot for some people who had brought animals to market or play place for some kids.

We made it to the Post Office and were surprised to see a large several-storied building with only one car in the ample parking lot. It was as big as the downtown Post Office and Eric had never noticed it before! There was one man sitting at a table inside the cavernous facility. We greeted each other and he walked back to the working area behind the windows to sell me some stamps. I told him it must be a lonely job for him. I mailed my cards and was happy for the distraction.

On the way back to the car, I confided to Eric that the sights I was seeing today were hard for me to look at. He nodded and kept us moving, pushing past the throng of farmers and vendors. He knows we don’t eat meat. The longer I choose vegetable over animal, the more compassion I have for the soon-to-be slain. I’d read testimonials from vegetarians who stopped eating meat for environmental reasons and found compassion for our animal brothers. Now I realize this has happened to me.

Jane Goodall wrote: “And if we dare to look into those eyes, then we shall feel their suffering in our hearts. More and more people have seen that appeal and felt it in their hearts. All around the world there is an awakening of understanding and compassion, and understanding that reaches out to help the suffering animals in their vanishing homelands. That embraces hungry, sick, and desperate human beings, people who are starving while the fortunate among us have so much more than we need. And if, one by one, we help them, the hurting animals, the desperate humans, then together we shall alleviate so much of the hunger, fear, and pain in the world. Together we can bring change to the world, gradually replacing fear and hatred with compassion and love. Love for all living beings.”

Seeing so many animals at death’s door was upsetting and I’m sure I’ll see more. The meat dogs I saw in our neighborhood at the beginning of the month come to mind. But I believe my exposure to the realities of animal protein will have a positive impact. Hopefully in the form of increased compassion and a better understanding of what motivates me to embrace a plant-based diet. I won’t soon forget my year in Africa!

Falafel
Hummus
Chili
Red Red
Chole (curried chick peas)
Hoppin John
Refried Beans (for fajitas)
Black Bean Soup
Cassoulet (white bean stew)
Lentil Chard Stew
Chili Mac
Pasta Fazule
Bean Fritters
Bean Dip
Three Bean Salad

I can’t make baked beans because we don’t have an oven. And Tempeh is out but happily we are able to purchase locally made fresh tofu just a few blocks from our house.

If you have a good bean recipe, please email it to me!

 Bob tries out our keys in our new Post Office Box in Adum and Camille shows off her new dress, paper towels and can opener.

The first order of business was a visit to the Post Office to mail a couple of cards to the States. When we found out we could get a P O Box and begin receiving mail, we went for it! The kind lady at the window sent us around the corner to room 12 on the second floor to purchase the necessary paper work. I was happy to remember that I had a photo of Bob in my wallet and between that and his North Carolina drivers license we had the necessary documentation.

Then we went back downstairs to pay our box fee and receive our number. “What do you want to bet our new number has a seven in it?” I said and was disappointed when the clerk announced our number as 16595. Moments later, when I was writing down our new address though, she corrected me saying it was 16597. Yay! And then we went back upstairs to room 12 to pick up our keys. Finally, we walked around until we found the box itself and tried both keys in it. Worked like a charm.

So drop us a postcard and we’ll mail you one back with a fancy Ghanian stamp on it.

Our new mailing address is:

P O Box KS 16597
Kumasi, Ghana
West Africa

Next, we stopped at Saarnak Vegetarian Food and Health Shop as recommended by awesome vegan Abenaa when she took us horseback riding at Lake Bosumtwi last week. We shared a plate of the best jollof rice we’ve had here yet. And then we bought some fancy vegan groceries for the house, including soy protein nuggets, sunflower seeds and pepitos.

Out on the street, I spotted can openers on display and stopped to buy one and a bottle opener as well. We also checked out the Okopu Trading Post where we found Kahlua and paper towels but no measuring cup. We walked around the corner to Ebenezer’s Health Food Shop and picked up honey, peanut butter and coconut oil, buying some avocados and cucumbers at a produce stand along the way. And we looked at clothing but didn’t find anything that was quite as awesome as the dress I bought yesterday.

We arrived home with full bags and bellies and big smiles on our faces. Life is good when you find what you want!

It’s been awhile since we’ve made tempeh or seitan cutlets so we’ve been cheating with processed foods. Mostly because Bob has been working 50 hours a week between his full time job and his volunteer work at Chatham Marketplace.

Quorn chick’n patties are delicous but made of  mycoprotien and egg whites and a pinch of whey protein concentrate and buttermilk powder. So, they are not hardly vegan and we’ll be looking into vegan patties next trip to the store. As well as looking for time to make some breaded cutlets!

Check out this Saturday morning breakfast of champeens that Bob whipped up. Tofu Scramble with sauteed onion and garlic, nutritional yeast and tofutti sour cream, crispy fried potatoes, ketchup and pan fried vegan pepperoni, a.k.a. Veggeroni.

Poor little vegans.

Roasted tofurky and root vegetables, mashed potatoes, golden gravy and the ubiquitous greens. This time of year we eat greens at every meal.

Here’s what we had to eat tonight: twigs and berries.

Jason and Haruka’s incredibly sweet and nutty Koshihikari rice, freshly harvested greens with radicchio from Matt and Jenn’s Dickinson College Farm, pan-fried quorm “chicken” patties topped with Mae Ploy sweet chili sauce. The only things keeping this meal from being vegan is the rehydrated egg white, whey protein concentrate and buttermilk powder in the quorn patties.