Here’s the lowdown:

This challenge will run from April 1, 2008 to March 31, 2009. All you have to do is select six cookbooks to read and make at least one of the recipes. These can be any cookbooks of your choice — brand new ones, old stand-bys that you can’t live (or cook) without, or even heirlooms. You do not have to decide on the cookbooks ahead of time (unless you want to, of course). Then post your reviews either here or on your own blog. If you want, you can even post pictures of your creations along with your reviews!

I think I’ll do cookbooks with literary themes. I’m sure Lobscouse and Spotted Dog will make an appearance, and I have some other ideas up my sleeve too.

Question: what are some memorable scenes from books that involve a food you’ve never eaten but would like to try?

One I can think of is in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, when the White Witch gives Edmund Turkish Delight to eat. For years I wondered what Turkish Delight was. For some reason I always pictured it as something orange and sticky, like glazed apricots. But I know others who thought it was a kind of brownie. Or toffee. There’s no question that not knowing what Turkish Delight was added much to the magic & mystery of the scene. Now I know what it is, and I’ve eaten it, but when I think of Edmund I still picture glazed apricots.

Back story. Remember our summer vacation at family camp? Well, one thing I didn’t mention at the time (or did I?) is how positively revolting the food is up there. You’d think that because the place is located in the heart of rural northern Michigan, surrounded by farms and orchards and Great Lakes, that every meal would be a feast of locally-grown produce and fresh fish. Alas, no. Every cholesterol-laden bite came to us from Gordon’s Food Service. By the end of the week let’s just say I was feeling a little gross. And the word “vegan” kept popping, unbidden, into my mind.

Shortly after we got back I learned that my mother-in-law was reading The China Study and thinking about becoming vegan. And as we talked about it, I felt more and more convinced that this was the way to go. It was so strange. It was like something clicked in my mind, and I felt this burden of worry lift off of me. Worry about cholesterol, growth hormones, mad cow disease, and god knows what all else. Understand, I’ve been an enthusiastic meat eater all my life. Red meat, too, and bloody. And dairy? I live for sour cream. But for some reason the thought of just giving it all up felt perfectly right — not at all a hardship or deprivation.

So I bought a vegan cookbook and started experimenting.

Selling the idea to my family. This was the hard part. Even my dear hubby, who is always happy to eat whatever I cook, would say things like, “What? You mean we’re never having bacon again?” And the kids, well, you can imagine. So I said things like “Well, okay, maybe we could have Meat Day once a month,” hoping that it wouldn’t come to that. And I kept in reserve the strategy of a vegan friend of mine, who finally managed to persuade her husband by, um, well, this is a G-rated blog so I can’t tell you the juicy details. ;) And anyway, it didn’t ever come to that. The more I cooked, and the more I experimented with different brands of soy products (they are not all created equal, not by a long shot), the less I heard from Steve about bacon. And the kids have gotten somewhat more accepting, too, especially after I bombarded them with information about the horrors of factory farming and the health dangers of an animal-based diet. Also, I think it helps that I haven’t been super-strict about it. If Lena wants to have hot lunch pizza at school once a week, okay. For now, anyway.

Results. The results, I swear to god, have been nothing less than astonishing. I have significantly more energy than I used to (that is, I’m still a lazyass a bit indolent, but much less so). Pounds (five so far) are effortlessly melting away. Steve’s psoriasis is greatly improved. And I know what you’re wondering: yes, our innards have adjusted to the increase in fiber and the atmosphere here is back to normal. The most astonishing thing, though, is that I truly do not miss meat or dairy AT ALL. Or junk food, either. It’s not even part of the equation any more. Amazing. I NEVER would have predicted this.

Here are some things I’ve learned:

• Trader Joe’s soy milk is the best and the cheapest.
• Silk brand soy yogurt is soooooo good!
• Seitan does not make a good stroganoff.
• Nor does vegan sour cream.
• You can get kids to eat almost anything if you put it in a soup and puree it.
• Going vegan requires a significant financial commitment. Ouch!

A note on the terminology. I’m not really comfortable with the word vegan, to tell the truth. First, it sounds so radical. I’m not one of those weird crunchy granola hippie dippie types. I’m not! I’m really quite mainstream. Well, okay, I had a couple of home births, but my kids are all vaccinated, I swear. But more importantly, vegan doesn’t really describe our diet. After all, as the author of The China Study points out, McDonald’s fries and a Coke is technically a vegan meal. In the book they call it a “whole foods, plant-based diet,” which I like much better. Especially since the alternative is an “animal-based diet” which, when you say it that way, sounds pretty nasty.

She was a person for whom the diagnosis of diabetes must have felt particularly cruel. She was a gourmet cook who made excellent use of her giant kitchen with restaurant stove (six big gas burners) and butler’s pantry, and boy did she love to eat and drink.

Once when my mom was sick in bed — understatement there; she had sciatica and could not move — this friend brought us a big pot of chili. It was so good that as soon as she was better my mom demanded the recipe. It was so good that as soon as my sister and I grew up and left home we demanded the recipe. Mom, Sister, and I have all served it to friends who then demanded the recipe. We have each brought it to numberless potlucks. The recipe was my contribution to our preschool’s fundraiser cookbook. It was the first thing I taught Lena to cook. To me this recipe is a reminder not only of her love of cooking, but also her love of my family. And now I present it to you, with the hope that you’ll try it out this week in her honor.

Pat’s Chili

Brown the beef, onion, green pepper and garlic in your largest stock pot. Drain. Add remaining ingredients. Do not skimp on the wine! Bring to a boil, then simmer as long as you possibly can.

Makes a ton. Freezes well.

P.S. Diabetes is a horrible disease. If it hasn’t touched you personally you might think — as I used to — that it’s not so bad, it just means you can’t eat sugar. When my father-in-law was dying from diabetic complications one of the doctors commented that the inability to produce insulin is just a side effect of diabetes; it should really be considered a vascular disease. When Pat died she was on dialysis. She’d had some toes amputated. And she didn’t even become diabetic until she was in her 50s. Here’s a link to the American Diabetes Association, which, by the way, meets give.org’s standards of accountability.

Great idea, huh? It’s extremely educational. Not only are they are learning the elements of cookery — chopping onions, pressing garlic, browning beef, opening cans — but they are also learning their way around our kitchen. They know where we keep the spatulas. They know how to operate the oven and microwave. They know that the spices are in (of course) alphabetical order. As well, they have the satisfaction of increased independence. Joey, in particular, is getting a way bigger kick out of this than I ever imagined he would.

Aside: last Tuesday, as we were sitting down to eat the burgers he’d grilled, Joey worried that we’d compliment his cooking just to be nice, because he was still learning. I told him that’s the host’s perennial dilemma and it has nothing to do with his lack of experience. People always compliment the food as a way of thanking the chef for his hard work. (That is to say, some people do. Have you noticed that while some people — like me — think it’s good manners to talk all about the food while they’re eating it, praising the chef, asking about the recipe, and so forth, others apparently think you should say nothing at all. Every year we have Christmas dinner at the home of Steve’s aunt, who is a fabulous cook, really fabulous, and personally I just don’t understand how all those relatives can just sit there and talk about everything else but the food. Must be a Dutch Calvinist thing.)

Back to Home Ec: right now this project is extremely labor-intensive, especially with Lena. I am very nervous about the knives and the gas stove and all that stuff. Her hands just aren’t big and strong enough for some tasks, and I end up doing a lot of it for her. I have high hopes, however, that the day will come when I can just sit back and let them take over in the kitchen.

Another drawback, I’ve discovered, is that allowing the kids to plan the menu could result in some weird meals. Last Tuesday one of the side dishes to go with the burgers was a great big bowl of heavily sugared (though neatly trimmed) strawberries.

And I know what you’re wondering. The answer is, so far this project has had NO EFFECT WHATSOEVER on the carping.