Two enormous piles of dishes later, we had a tiny, hugely expensive raw lasagna awaiting us in the fridge.
As I mentioned last month, a trip to a “living food“ cafe in Berkeley got me all intrigued with the raw food movement. And always up for something new that doesn't imperil life and limb, I thought, “Why heck, we all need more veggies.“
As I dove into the Internet, I discovered that raw cuisine has its own conventions (I still haven't figured out the Celtic salt thing) and language and appliances. You know the thing that slices and dices and makes great julienned fries and boy, does it catch fish? You'll need one.
Not quite ready to buy a juicer, spiral slicer or dehydrator and unsure how to soak and ferment nuts to get real nut cheese, I wanted a recipe for us secular types. Happily, The Raw Chef provided.
The prep, which involved two blender sessions, two food processor sessions and massive amounts of dishes, certainly doesn't have one slaving over a hot stove. Instead I found myself mining the recesses of our cabinets for additional appliances to masticate, crunch, slash, slice, combine and froth. Walnuts (raw) and sun dried tomatoes (dehydrated) required soaking. Zucchini needed marinating. And spinach needed wilting. Then it all had to be ground and whipped into submission. All in all the dish had five layers--a faux noodle layer, faux meat, faux cheese, tomato sauce and pesto. (The recipe called for a sixth wilted spinach layer, but enough already. No wonder our mothers raised us on tuna casserole.)
When I showed it to Mitch, he asked, “Do you eat it cold?”
“Honey, it's raw.”
As a concession to both our palettes, I let it warm to room temp before we tucked in. The verdict? Amazing. Absolutely delicious.
Today, though, we have serious garlic hangovers. That raw garlic is some serious sh*t.