Friends, I’m taking a break this week to prepare for a big announcement next week, but have no fear: the fun stories and delicious recipes haven’t stopped. Today’s post is by my good friend and fellow plant-based foodie, Matt Lau. After savoring his words and recipe (both equally delicious!), please hop over to his own Substack to soak up all the good stuff he’s doing over there.
But first, give a warm Mai Time in the Kitchen Community welcome to Matt! Take it away Dr. Foodlove!
Growing up, I was what is charitably called a “Good Eater.” I wasn’t very picky about what I ate, and I didn’t leave the table until my plate was clear. In fact, if there was food left, I didn’t usually quit eating until it was gone. Leftovers were a rarity in my house.
When I’d go to sleepovers, my friends’ moms would make extra food if they knew I would be there. I distinctly remember the look of dismay on Mrs. Silverman’s face when I didn’t take a third helping of her silver dollar pancakes. With a friendly sigh, I piled the last of them on my sticky, buttery plate, and forced them down.
As teenagers, my buddies and I would binge Doritos and Pepsi, pizza and tacos, Tastycakes and Butterfingers. We would pride ourselves on “getting our money’s worth” at buffets. I ate containers of rainbow sherbet in single sittings, devoured boxes of cereal (one time using a coffee pot as a bowl to minimize refills), and enjoyed multiple dinners on Thanksgiving and Christmas.
In short, I loved food, often directly in proportion to its quantity.
Once I hit my mid-twenties, my appetite for food didn’t diminish, but my palate expanded. One of my friends lived in DC, and later moved to New York. Whenever I was in town, he’d take me to unique restaurants I’d never otherwise explore. We didn’t just “eat good” – we were determined to Eat Well.
That meant it wasn’t enough to get a slice of Brooklyn pizza, we had to track down the best slice. Yeah those tacos are good, but this place has a line out the door. I began overpaying for empanadas and dim sum and creme brulee, often convinced the higher price elevated the flavors. Things like needing a reservation or having to wait a long time to get a meal used to be a turn-off for me; now they were indicators of exactly what I was looking for.
When I met my wife, I was in the early stages of broadening my culinary horizons, and she was all-in for that journey. She insists I won her over the night I made for her, from scratch, Wolfgang Puck’s pumpkin ravioli with brown butter sage sauce, plus a peppermint ricotta cheesecake for dessert. Since then, we’ve prepared hundreds of fancy dinners together, using exotic ingredients like sunchokes and meringue powder and monkfish. We’ve planned entire vacations around cuisine, squeezing in several meals made from farm-fresh ingredients prepared by James-Beard-caliber chefs.
I still loved food, but more in proportion to its quality.
Then, about five years ago, my relationship with food evolved again. My lovely wife had a serious health scare, one that had nothing to do with family history. Once she recovered, she took her health much more seriously. She began working out, and she did a lot of research about what we all allowed in our houses and inside our bodies.
Gone were the deodorants and shampoos and cleaners we had used for years; the only things allowed in our home were certified organic, carcinogen free, top-quality products. This began to extend to the rest of our grocery list…to a point. We sought out local produce, hormone-free milk, and locally-raised beef, but it was hard to let go of some of our old eating habits. Comfort foods like tuna noodle casserole and chicken-with-biscuits held dear places in my heart; wasn’t that more important than avoiding a little bit of trans fat or some BHT?
So believe me when I say I know how strange and difficult “healthy eating” seems. It’s one thing to start exercising when you haven’t done that for your whole life; it’s another thing to stop eating certain kinds of food when you’ve been doing that your whole life. I spent forty years expanding my dietary repertoire; I’ve always been willing to try new food, so giving up animal products felt like defeat. I mean, where was I going to get my protein – from tofu? Tempeh? Seitan? I didn’t even know how to pronounce these things, let alone make anything with them.
Eventually, I decided to treat these strange new ingredients like the next frontier of my culinary exploration. Dairy-free desserts used to anger me; now they were intriguing. Meat substitutes, once mystifying, became appetizing. And plant-based dinners, previously a plateful of empty side dishes in my eye, became experiments in novel taste and texture combinations. I was suddenly eager to poke around the little vegan section in the grocery store, looking to discover new variations of soy or quinoa.
I still love food; now, it’s in proportion to its healthiness – for my body, for my conscience, and for the world.
One of the first vegan meals I pulled off were these simple but deeply delicious Chipotle Portobello Tacos. Composed of a dozen easy-to-find ingredients and ready in thirty minutes, these flavor-bombs helped pave the way for Bombay Burritos, Tofu Poke Bowls, and my Legen-Dairy-Free Peanut Butter Gelato (sorry, that recipe remains a secret!).
No matter where you are in your journey with food, I guarantee these tacos are crowd pleasers.
Sylvia Fountaine’s Vegan Mushroom Tacos
Taco Ingredients:
2 extra large portobello mushrooms
1 red bell pepper
1/2 an onion
4 tortillas, toasted
14-ounce can refried black beans
For the marinade:
1 tablespoon oil
2 tablespoons canned Chipotle in Adobo sauce ( SAUCE ONLY)
1 minced garlic clove ( or 1/2 teaspoon granulated garlic)
1/2 teaspoon cumin
1/2 teaspoon coriander
salt to taste
Instructions:
Preheat oven to 425 F
Slice the portobellos into ½-inch thick wedges and slice the bell pepper into ½ thick strips, cut the onion into ½-inch thick rings or half moons. Place all on a parchment-lined sheet pan.
Mix marinade ingredients together in a small bowl.
Brush both sides of mushrooms liberally with the marinade, then remaining red bell pepper and onion lightly. Sprinkle portobellos with salt. Roast 20 minutes or until portobellos are fork-tender.
While this is roasting, heat the beans and prep any additional garnishes. Pickled onions and Vegan cilantro Crema both take about 10 minutes to make. Or simply use avocado slices.
When ready to serve, warm the tortillas (over a gas flame on the stove, or in a toaster oven) and spread them generously with the refried black beans. Divide chipotle portobellos and peppers (and onions if used) among the tortillas. Top with Cilantro Crema, Poblano Salsa, or avocado, fresh cilantro and optional pickled onions.