Soup's On.

I've made it my mission to cook more this year. Yes, I blog about cooking, but over the past few months there have been too many meals out. Although they were delicious, there's something even more gratifying about making your own feast and sharing it with family/friends/spouses at home.

Oh, and it's healthier. And cheaper. Do you know what's not gratifying? Having an amazing meal at home and then facing a kitchen filled with dishes, pots and pans to wash. Suddenly, the euphoric food coma evaporates and you're breaking a sweat trying to scrub every last corner of the stove.

Enter my reignited love for one-pot dishes--soups and stews, specifically. Throw everything together, season well, decide if you want to blend or not and start chowing down. Love it.

This recipe is definitely hitting our table this weekend. Comforting, protein-filled and fiber-rich, this lentil soup is all kinds of delicious.

And since there will only be one lonely pot waiting for me, I'll have extra time for dessert. Naturally.

Vegan French Lentil Soup
(Courtesy of Robin Robertson)
Serves 4
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 yellow onion, chopped
1 carrot, chopped
1 celery stalk, chopped
3 garlic cloves
2 tablespoons dry sherry or white wine
1 cup French lentils
1 14.5-ounce can petite diced tomatoes, undrained
2 teaspoons herbes de Provence
1 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
5 cups vegetable broth
4 cups baby spinach

What You Do:

1. In a large pot over medium heat, heat olive oil. Add onion, carrot, celery, and garlic. Cover and cook until softened, about 5 minutes. Stir in sherry, then add lentils, tomatoes, herbes de Provence, salt, pepper, and broth.
2. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to a simmer. Cover and cook until the lentils are tender, about 45 minutes, adding more broth if needed. Taste and adjust seasonings. About 5 minutes before serving, stir in the spinach. Serve hot.

Good Eats: John's of 12th Street

"Do you use the internet? Facebook, Twitter? Tell your friends about us," urged Mike, a tall, roundish man in a pastel pink shirt that hinted at his jovial disposition. Not that Mike, co-owner of John's of 12th Street, had to twist my arm in order for me to talk up his restaurant.

John's of 12th Street, or simply John's as it's called by loyal customers, is the 10th oldest continuously operating restaurant in New York City. Founded in 1908, the Southern Italian menu (read: eggplant rollatini, spaghetti and meatballs, et al.) has managed to stay relevant and perhaps even progress ahead of the times by offering a complete vegan Italian menu in addition to the classic fare.

Basically, every restaurant should be as smart as this one. My carnivorous husband can order Baked Lasagna with meat sauce while I order Seitan alla Rosa? (Seitan is a meat substitute made of wheat gluten. This was smothered in artichokes, peppers and mushrooms with Marsala wine sauce. Get on that.)
Suddenly every debate on where to have dinner and what type of dinner we were going to have (healthy vs. comfort vs. veggie vs. meat) seems ridiculous. John's has the best of every world and brings it to you with a smile.

I was nearly reduced to tears by the service alone. In true old-school Italian fashion--old habits die hard--every waiter was a young, pleasant, attractive man. Zero complaints about that, although my husband asked me why I was smiling so much. Tables had linens, waitstaff used crumbers, no one was rushed and music volume was kept in check.

I'm not sure if the Pinot Noir was starting to overthrow my good judgement, but I was so enthralled at discovering this gem that I nearly passed over the dessert menu. Then I saw one word: Lulu's.

Lulu's Sweet Apothecary is just about the best vegan ice cream you'll find. It doesn't matter that it's missing cow's milk, eggs, and sugar. It swiftly kicks 'normal' ice cream to the curb. I opted for two scoops of cookies n' cream. I got three. I said we'd share it and asked for two spoons. I shared nothing.

John's of 12th Street does something that is increasingly hard to do in New York dining: it bridges classic and modern menus without sacrificing personal style. Finding a vegan meal in a restaurant that doesn't channel Woodstock and Janis Joplin is rare. Eating it in a refined, familial environment is special. Giving customers healthier options without abandoning your culinary point of view (i.e.: veggie burgers and other random vegetarian dishes) is an accomplishment.

Grazie, John's. Now go check it out!

Make Thanksgiving dinner like a 3-year-old.

Thanksgiving is a holiday that requires no shopping, no wrapping paper, no major responsibilities aside from cooking and eating. Family and friends, just cooking and eating together for an entire day every year. There is no mystery behind my affinity for this holiday. I've already pulled out my favorite spiked cider recipe that I plan to have brewing all. day. long.

I have to say, I've never really been into the savory side of the menu. The turkey, vegetables, biscuits are all fine and good, but the desserts are what really win me over. Brown sugar, pumpkins, marshmallows and cinnamon-covered apples are around every corner--the scents that begin to linger in the air are enough to make me swoon.

I'm borderline embarrassed to admit that I love when I take a shower after a day of baking and that familiar butterty-brown sugar smell starts to emanate from my hair. Actually, I'm not embarrassed at all. It's everything you could ever want in a fragrance.

My family members are stout traditionalists when it comes to holiday meals. The stuffing must be Grandma's, the sweet potatoes must have marshmallows, and so on and so forth. While I'm on pie duty (pumpkin, apple and coconut custard), I'll admit that this year I'm tempted to make cupcakes. Pumpkin cupcakes, but cupcakes nonetheless.

Strange, you say? Watch this video and see if you don't find yourself completely sold on the idea:

Right?? Did you see how happy he was? C'mon, give these babies a chance!

Happy and healthy Thanksgiving to you all!

Chili days, spicy nights.

Many of you know me as a vegan. Most of the time. For a couple of years now, I've been convinced that a plant-based diet is the healthiest way to go. Cut me open and you'll find kale bits coursing through my healthy little veins.

However. The other day I found myself out to dinner with a friend just dying, dying, for a morsel of pecorino off her cheese plate. And then I stopped being desperate and started getting bitter about it. Not fair! She's eating cheese. Why can't I eat cheese?

Yes. These are the lame, childhood logic-laced dialogues I have with myself. But then another, more exciting, kind of logic occurred to me...

I imagined God meeting me at the pearly gates after I die, and after cluing me in on the behind-the-scenes of my life's performance hearing him say, "By the way, you could've had the pecorino. Really. No big deal."

That silly moment of clarity brought me here: If I'm living this life to its fullest, I'm not leaving the occasional slice of Prosciutto behind.

As I'm learning more and more how to balance things--priorities, emotions, relationships--I'm learning that I could use a little more edge on my good-girl dinner plate. Which is why I took a flying leap off the bandwagon and made...CHILI. Spicy, flavorful, welcome-back-to-the-club chili.

Game day, plus a cool night in NYC, plus a husband who's a meat-lover--I had all of the excuses I needed to take the plunge. And I went back for seconds.

Chili is just not photogentic. This pretty pot is courtesy of Frog and Princess.

Spicy Beef and Bean Chili
Serves 6-8

2 lbs. quality ground beef (Yes, it exists.)
2 yellow onions, diced
5 garlic cloves, sliced
2 jalapenos, sliced (including seeds)
1 red bell pepper, chopped
1 green bell pepper, chopped
2 Tbsp. ground cumin
2 Tbsp. chili powder
1 1/2 tsp. paprika
2 cups vegetable stock
1 28 oz. can crushed tomatoes
1 15 oz. can pinto beans

*Sharp cheddar, sour cream, chives and avocado to garnish

1. In a large pot or Dutch oven, brown the meat until cooked and set aside to drain on paper towels.
In the same pot (with the beef drippings), heat one tablespoon of olive oil and add the onion, garlic and peppers. Saute until soft and translucent, about 5 minutes.

2. Add the dry spices to the pot and mix until the vegetables are coated. Continue to cook almost until the point of burning the spices. You want to toast them throroughly to bring out a depth of flavor. When you're at the point, add the stock to the pot and vigorously scrape the bottom of the pot with a wooden spoon to release the brown bits of meat and veggies.

3. Add the tomatoes and beans to the pot and return the meat to the pot. Stir together and add two teaspoons of salt. Bring to boil and then lower to a simmer. Cook for at least 45 minutes--it can continute to cook for up to two hours, but keep in mind that the longer it simmers, the spicier it will be. Taste again and season as necessary.

4. Serve hot and garnish as desired. It's fun to set up a little chili bar with tons of toppings to choose from!

Making Scents.

Scent is a powerful memory-maker. I, along with most people with a working nose, have very strong memories tied to certain fragrances. You're with me, right?

The smell of the warm, balmy air when you step off the plane in Florida. The scent of your boyfriend's cologne. The old-fashioned smell that lingers in Grandma's house. They all get registered in the filing cabinets of our brain, whether we realize it or not.

Food smells, in particular, can range from poignant to exciting to nostalgic. Onion and garlic sweating in a pot will always remind me of a family dinner, just as a coconut will call to mind a pool-side cocktail during vacation. Do you remember your first food memory?

Really think about this.

I'm not talking about the first 'Aha!" moment you had at a fancy-shmance restaurant or the first time you tried an exotic ingredient, but the first memory you have tied to any food, whatsoever. It's kind of crazy to reach back into those dusty files, isn't it? Mine is an absolute shame-fest, but I'll tell you anyway.

It was summer break and I think I was about six or seven years old. We had a small backyard and would set up a garden hose sprinkler to run through all day. Good times. My mom was a serial tanner back then (nothing's changed, except maybe now she's added a few SPFs to her tanning lotion), so we all had little chairs to lounge in. I remember going into the house for a snack, and when I opened the pantry I knew exactly what I wanted--no, needed. Rainbow Chips Ahoy.

You know what I'm talkin' about. And I didn't want one or two. I wanted five, FIVE!, cookies to take back to my chair. A little primary-colored stack that I would slowly nibble to make last as long as possible. I think that was the first time I fell in love. Oh, how the warning signs were there.

I said that to say this:
I recently finished and eye-opening book, Eating Animals, by Jonathan Safran Foer. In it, the author grapples with his decision to remove meat and dairy products from his and his child's diet. As he thinks and rethinks his choice, he's reminded of family barbeques and what rituals would be missed without the grilled burger or holiday roast. Then he realizes that it's not the burger itself that will be missed, but the tradition and memories that accompany it.

We all have memories we hold dear--some healthy and some otherwise--but, we also have a future that belongs to us for all of the new memories we create for ourselves and loved ones.

Cheers to that. You're remembered fondly, Mr. Nabisco, even if we have grown apart.

Cute dresses need kind cookies.

Hello, dear readers.

To those of you who don't check Pip Cooks too often, you probably haven't missed me. But to you loyal foodie friends who check daily, refresh your webpage, and notice that I've neglected my little corner of the internet, I apologize.

When a friend called me out on my sluggish writing habits, I realized that:

1.) More of you lovely friends read this than I gave you credit for, and
2.) I have a lot of updates that need sharing.

Here goes:

First up, my amazingly talented best friend recently opened her own accessories and fashion shop in Florida and I am SO excited for her! Her name is Neely Butler. She opened the boutique with her friend Tara. And therefore, Teely's was born. Why are we talking about fashion at Pip Cooks? Because it's summer and when you bring your crowd-pleasing cookies (see below) to your next barbeque, you'll need to be outfitted like the domestic goddess you are.

One of Teely's many fun pieces!

Neely, in action, photographing for her site.

I know you all have great taste. That's why you should check out the Teely's Boutique page on Facebook to see their great deals for yourself! Click here to learn more about the girls and their 'Item of the Day' which is always a steal. For real.

Okay, next up on the agenda is the Pip Cooks is going.....VEGAN! I'm sure you've noticed that many of my recipes skew towards the more healthy, socially conscious (ie: no animal products). Well, it's now official. You can still expect easy, delicious recipes here, only they won't involve any of the artery-clogging, belly-bulging ingredients that meat, milk and cheese bring to the table. I'm stepping off my soap box (for now), but if you want more information on veganism and why it's so crazy good for you, check out this documentary, Food Matters, here, for freeeee. 

Lastly, the real reason you're here. Food, namely cookies. I know I just wrote about biscotti, but it's the weekend and weekends should always involve a cookie or two. These are adapted from The Kind Diet by Alicia Silverstone. They're vegan, easy to make, and there are never any leftovers, so consider doubling the recipe.

Oatmeal Raisin Cookies
(Adapted from Oatmeal, Walnut, Plum Cookies)
Makes 12

I changed this recipe so that it's more of a classic Oatmeal Raisin cookie. A dash of cinnamon, some raisins, and no nuts accomplishes this nicely. The base batter is super easy to change, so add whatever dried fruit or spices you fancy.

1 cup rolled oats
3/4 cup unbleached all-purpose flour
1/3 cup maple sugar
2 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. ground cinnamon
dash of nutmeg
pinch of salt
1/3 cup agave nectar
1/3 cup canola oil
1/4 cup almond milk
1 tsp. vanilla extract
1/4 cup raisins (add more or less, to your liking)

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Combine the first eight ingredients in large bowl and mix well. In a separate bowl, combine the agave nectar, oil, milk and vanilla extract. Add the wet ingredients to the dry bowl and stir until evenly distributed. Fold in the raisins or whichever fruit you use.

Drop tablespoon-sized scoops of dough onto a prepared cookie sheet and bake for 8-12 minutes, until golden brown. Cool completely before serving and try to keep your hand out of the cookie jar.