RE: My R.S.V.P. to Your B.B.Q.

Photo source

God bless my well-meaning friends and family members, who make every effort to include my vegan-principled diet when planning their summer parties! Still, though I’ve been vegan for about 15 years, some of them still don’t quite “get” it.

So, this year, I’m writing an open letter, on behalf of myself and vegans everywhere, to help those who sincerely want to feed us.

Dear Loved One,

Thank you so much for the invitation to your party! I appreciate your thoughtfulness and your desire to include me, and after careful consideration, I’ve decided to accept. This year, however, I’ll be making some changes.

As much fun as I’m sure it will be to see an entire pig roasted on a spit, I think I’ll bring my own vegan Italian sausages to roast over the fire—the same variety I brought last year. Remember, the ones you said weren’t fit for your dog to eat? After watching your sweet canine choke down a pile of his own droppings, I consider your endorsement one of highest praise and quality.

Speaking of those vegan sausages, should you be compelled to insist upon cooking them yourself, may I ask, once again, that you not do so on the same burger-grease-dripping grill as last year? Also, if your children truly do prefer eight-for-a-dollar pig-part hot dogs, would you mind not feeding my two-dollar specialty sausages to them?

Are you planning any dishes this year which don’t include bacon? I’ve never actually seen crumbled bacon used as a staple ingredient, but maybe it’s a regional thing I don’t quite have a grasp on.

The “rabbit food” you pointed me to last year was actually a Caesar salad, filled with cheese and anchovy dressing (and bacon!). May I offer to bring a green salad this year, with almonds for protein?

That reminds me… I checked again, and chicken still isn’t vegetarian nor vegan this year, though you’re absolutely welcome to continue to suggest it is again, along with cheese, sour cream, and tuna fish.

Though the idea of digging in to your grandmother’s mayonnaise-based potato salad (with bacon!) is appealing, after it’s had a couple hours to “cure” in the sun, I believe I’ll bring a three-bean salad to share with those who may have an aversion to food poisoning.

It’s a mystery to me how flavored collagen from bones and hooves, tossed into a bowl with sugared fluid from bovine mammary glands, with a can of syrup-packed pineapple chunks passes for a “fruit salad,” but may I bring a fruit salad that is actually made entirely of fruit? I can’t promise that fabulous curdling effect after it warms up, but perhaps you’ll forgive my culinary ineptitude.

Is there really a good reason to slather butter on every vegetable before it’s served? Corn on the cob is delightful when served slippery, and it collects the gnats better that way, too, but could you set aside an unbuttered cob for the girl who clearly has no taste? I’d appreciate it, ever so much.

While I’m sure pork and beans (with a cube of bacon fat!) out of a can are top-notch picnic food, would you mind terribly if I brought some homemade baked beans, made with espresso and top-shelf bourbon to share? I’m sure you can pick some bacon out of the antipasto to throw in there, if your guests find it lacking.

I so look forward to your event, and hope to enjoy with much gusto and without gastrointestinal distress. Can’t wait to see you!

Your Vegan Friend,
Sexy Vegan Mama

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BIG NEWS in Sexy Vegan Mamaland!

Author William Maltese with
Christina-Marie "Sexy Vegan Mama" Wright
at a recent signing for
Everything I Need to Know About Motherhood I Learned from Animal House

Sexy Vegan Mama has signed, sealed and delivered her juicy collaboration agreement with best-selling author William Maltese (BACK OF THE BOAT GOURMET COOKING, The Gluten-Free Way: My Way, William Maltese's Wine Taster's Diary and about 200 more!) as they commence an adventure in decadence!

The project? A "get-real" cookbook (tentatively) titled SWEET AND SIMPLE VEGAN DESSERTS, with mainstream publisher Wildside/Borgo.

What vegan dessert recipes do you look forward to?

Are you a vegan blogger who'd like some pimping? Contact me about recipe testing, interviews or contributing recipes! You'll be listed in the book's resources/acknowledgments section!

Let's Get Ready to RUM BALL! Recipe: Sexy Vegan Mama's Rum Balls

I'm heading over to Spokane for a book signing tomorrow. The event has promised not only my stellar wit and dramatics, but also cookies.

Now, cookies are all well and good, but I find if I'm desperate for a good turnout, the promise of booze is much more effective than my sparkling personality. That's why I'm taking rum balls. Well, not just rum balls, but also Southern Comfort balls (which, we all know, are Mama's favorite) and Kahlua balls.

You, too, can bribe your loved ones with these grown-up treats. Here's how:

Sexy Vegan Mama's Rum Balls

Half of a 14.4-oz. box of graham crackers (Be careful and check labels. I found several brands with milk in them.)
1 1/4 c. confectioner's sugar
3 T. unsweetened cocoa powder
1 c. slivered almonds
1/2 c. rum, liqueur or flavored alcohol of your choice (vanilla vodka, peppermint schnapps, brandy, Gran Marnier, butterscotch schnapps... it's all good)
3 T. light corn syrup
3/4 c. cocoa powder, confectioner's sugar, or vegan sugar for rolling

Whiz the graham crackers in a blender or food processor (I use the Magic Bullet) until they are very finely ground and almost powdery.

Very finely chop the almonds with a knife or in a blender or food processor until they are in small, coarse bits.

Mix all the dry ingredients - except the cocoa or sugar you've set aside for rolling - in a large bowl, then add liqueur and corn syrup and stir until well mixed. Your arm will get very tired, and you may need to use more liquor (if your dough is too dry, you can put some more in the mixture, as well as in your belly). The dough should be stiff and sticky, and hold its shape when rolled into a ball.

Form into 1-inch balls (a melon baller works great!), rolling with the palms of your (clean!) hands.

Roll each ball in the cocoa, confectioner's sugar, or vegan sugar, coating well.

Line the bottom of a covered container with wax paper and place the balls inside, in a single layer. Put the container in the refrigerator for two to three days before serving, and threaten your husband with castration if he tries to sneak any before they're cured.

Sexy Vegan Mama: Perfect Pie Crust

It's a learned skill, making the perfect pie crust, but it's really the key to making perfect pie. I learned the basics by watching my mom in her kitchen, and developed my vegan baking skills later as a young adult, working in her bakery. It's not as hard as you might think to turn out a flaky, tasty crust without using butter. Check it out:






Sexy Vegan Mama’s Perfect Pie Crust
(makes two 10-inch pie crusts)

Ingredients:

1 cup vegan stick margarine (I use Nucoa)
2 2/3 c. unbleached white flour
1 t. salt
7 to 8 T. cold water

In a large mixing bowl, combine four and salt. Cut margarine into flour mixture using a fork or pastry blender. Knobby little pieces will form, and you want them about the size of petite peas.

Add water, one tablespoon at a time, tossing with a fork until all the dough is moistened and sticks to itself more than it does the bowl. It may take more or less water than the recipe calls for.

Roll the dough into a ball and remove it from the bowl. Divide the ball in half, forming two balls, then flatten on a flour-covered cutting board. Use a floured rolling pin on each flattened round to spread the dough into a 12” circle (13-14” for deep-dish pans).

To transfer the crust into the pie pan, fold it carefully in fourths, place it in the bottom of the pan, then gently unfold it. Using a knife or scissors, trim the crust to about a half-inch around the edge of the pan.

 Use your fingers to tuck the excess edges under.

Using your thumb and forefingers, gently pinch the thick edge of the crust all the way around the rim of the pan, creating a fluted edge.

Use a fork to prick the bottom and sides of the crust to prevent puffing while it’s baking.

If you are pre-baking your crust: Bake for 8 to 10 minutes in an oven preheated to 475 degrees.

If you are only making one pie: Seal the unused, unbaked crust in plastic wrap or a large zipper bag and put it in the freezer. It will keep up to three months if well-sealed. Let it thaw completely before baking.

It's a Vegan Thanksgiving, Sexy Mama! Recipe + Video: Tomato Sesame Pepper Rolls

Want to find more great vegan bloggers? Check out the 2010 blogroll at VeganMoFo!

These rolls are my family's favorite. I always make a double batch because I know 24 rolls won't be enough. This recipe can also be formed into a loaf (great for sandwiches!) or two bread braids. Also, try making soft pretzels out of it for a tasty change.





Tomato Sesame Pepper Rolls
(makes 24 small rolls)

Ingredients:

1/2 c. warm water (you’re looking for “baby bath water” warm – if it’s too hot, it will kill your yeast)
1 1/4 t. yeast
1 1/4 c. canned diced tomatoes, juice included (I like to use petite cut, but you can use regular diced)
3 T. oil

1 t. salt
2 T. raw sugar or evaporated cane juice crystals
1/4 t. ground black pepper
1/4 t. ground red pepper
1 1/2 t. black sesame seeds
1 1/2 t. white sesame seeds
2 c. whole wheat flour
2 c. unbleached white flour

Directions:

Pour water into a medium-sized mixing bowl. Sprinkle yeast over top and allow a few minutes to dissolve. (Tip: Start measuring your dry ingredients into a large mixing bowl while you wait.) Stir dissolved yeast into water, then mix in tomatoes and oil.

Combine dry ingredients in a large mixing bowl and mix thoroughly.

Using a spoon, make a “well” in the middle of the dry ingredients.

Well, well, well...

Pour the liquid mixture into the well.

Stir wet and dry ingredients together until the dough becomes too stiff to stir – then, it’s time to get your (clean!) hands dirty. (Tip: Pour a little oil on your hands first to help prevent the dough from sticking to them.)

Stirring up trouble?

Using your hands, knead dough until it’s elastic and not sticking to the bowl or your hands. You may need to add a bit more flour or water at this point to achieve the proper texture.

When the dough is properly elastic, form it into a ball. Put a little oil in the bottom of your bowl, place the top of the dough ball in the oil, coating it, then turn the ball upside down. You’re doing this to prevent the dough from drying out while it’s rising.

Allow the dough to rise in a warm place until it’s doubled in size (usually about an hour), then punch down and divide into 24 equal sections. Then, form your rolls. Here’s my video tutorial on how to do it:



Now, I like to put my rolls in muffin tins to give them a uniform shape, but you may place yours on a baking sheet or in a baking pan. Just allow enough space around each roll for the second rise.

This is a good time to preheat your oven to 375 degrees.

Allow the formed rolls to rise again to double their size (Note: Keep an eye on them – the second rise will take only about half as long as the first), then bake for 15 to 20 minutes. The baking time depends on the size of the rolls, and they will be done when they begin to brown slightly on top.

More holiday recipes:
Oat, Seed & Vegetable Loaf
Roasted Garlic & Basil Mashed Yams
Apple Almond Stuffing (or Dressing)

It's a Vegan Thanksgiving, Sexy Mama! Recipe: Apple Almond Stuffing (or Dressing)

While everyone is carrying out the "stuffing" vs. "dressing" debate (click over to participate in the poll and make your preference known!), I'll state for the record we call it "stuffing" in our house, even though it's not shoved into a bird's butt.

I happen to think it refers to the manner in which it gets "stuffed" in my children's mouths before we've even finished saying, "Amen" after the blessing. Just a guess.

From what I gather, the preference for saying either "stuffing" or "dressing" depends, largely, on where you're from - or where your ancestors hail from. I'm reading, for example, Southerners tend to use "dressing," whether it's cooked inside a carcass or not.

Anyway... here's how I make it:

Apple Almond Dressing or Stuffing

Ingredients:

1 – 12 oz. package of seasoned vegan dressing mix (I used to use Mrs. Cubbison’s, but now it contains whey. Anyone have a good commercial recommendation?)

1/2 c. slivered almonds

1 c. chopped celery
1 c. chopped onion
1 c. chopped apple (I insist on using Granny Smiths here. You may experiment, if you like, but I won’t be responsible for the outcome.)

1/2 c. vegan stick margarine, melted

1 to 1 1/2 c. vegetable stock or broth (Optional: Substitute 1/2 cup apple or pineapple juice for half the broth)

Directions:

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Pour everything in a huge mixing bowl and stir, stir, stir… You don’t want any dry bread pieces!

Dump the mixture into an oiled 9” x 13” casserole dish, cover with foil and bake for 30 to 35 minutes.

Tip: Plan ahead and make this up the night before. Keep it covered with foil in the refrigerator and just add another five or ten minutes when baking to make sure it’s heated through.



More holiday recipes:
Oat, Seed & Vegetable Loaf
Roasted Garlic & Basil Mashed Yams
Tomato Sesame Pepper Rolls

Poll: Dressing vs. Stuffing - Does It Matter if It's Shoved Into a Bird's Butt?

Today, The Gonzo Mama asks that age-old question: Do you still call it "stuffing" if it's not shoved into a dead bird's butt? Or do you call it "dressing" instead?



(Whatever you call it, click here to see how The Gonzo Mama makes it!)

Take the poll!




Note: There is a poll embedded into this post. If you can't see it, please visit TheGonzoMama.com directly from your computer.

I've Been a Lazy VeganMoFo

My beloved mighty, mighty Goats were ousted from playoff action yesterday. I don't wanna talk about it.

Let's talk about VeganMoFo, instead.

What is VeganMoFo? It's a celebration and collaboration of vegan bloggers, who celebrate Vegan Month of Food (VeganMoFo) by blogging and writing about vegan food - making it, eating it, discovering it, remembering it, the tools we use to make it...

It's a beautiful thing, really.

But I've been lazy about it. In fact, I've been so busy this month, I haven't even really cooked my family a decent meal. That's all about to change. There's no excuse for no cooking and baking during the week of Thanksgiving.

I missed VeganMoFo's official signup window, so I'm going rogue and getting things started with my recipe for this year's turkey alternative, Sexy Vegan Mama's Oat, Seed & Vegetable Loaf. Join me, won't you?

Stick around for Roasted Garlic & Basil Mashed Yams!

VeganMoFo image from VeganMoFo.wordpress.com

It's a Vegan Thanksgiving, Sexy Mama! Recipe: Oat, Seed & Vegetable Loaf

Always late to the party... I'm just getting my VeganMoFo on, but I'm doing it with gusto.

I think it pretty much goes without saying I won't be shoving my dressing-filled hands into the butt of a dead turkey this year. Or any other year, for that matter.

So, what does a sexy vegan mama eat on Thanksgiving if she doesn't want to go the Tofurky route?

This year, I'm having meatloaf. Well, meatless loaf, anyway. While everyone else is slicing and carving dead birds, I'll be slicing into this delicious loaf, cruelty- and guilt-free:

Oat, Seed & Vegetable Loaf

Ingredients:

1 – 15.5 oz. can kidney beans, juice included
1 large carrot, grated
1 medium green bell pepper, diced
1 large onion, finely chopped
1/4 c. dry roasted, unsalted sunflower seeds
1/4 c. flax seeds
1/4 c. millet
1/2 c. nutritional yeast (buy it in bulk)
1 T. dried sweet basil
1 t. garlic powder
1 t. ground red pepper
1 t. paprika
1 – 6 oz. can tomato paste

2 to 4 cups quick oats

About 2/3 c. natural ketchup


Directions:

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Open the can of beans and blend – juices and all – in a blender or other food processing device. (I use the Magic Bullet.) Empty into a large mixing bowl and add carrot, bell pepper, onion, seeds, millet, nutritional yeast and spices. Mix well, then stir in tomato paste.

Stir in enough oats to make the mixture stiff (you’re looking for the consistency of raw meatloaf, if you can stomach thinking about it). If you make it too dry, just add a bit of water or vegetable stock.

Divide the mixture into two oiled 8 1/2” x 4 1/2" x 2 1/2" loaf pans. The pans should be about half-full. I’ve tried putting it all in one pan, but it doesn’t get done all the way through.

Spread a thick layer of ketchup on top of each loaf.

Cover with foil and bake 20 minutes, then remove foil and bake 40 more minutes. Remove from oven and let stand about ten to fifteen minutes before slicing and serving.

Tip: If you want to bake just one for your Thanksgiving feast, tightly cover the second loaf with foil and it will keep in the refrigerator for a few days.

More holiday recipes:
Roasted Garlic & Basil Mashed Yams
Apple Almond Stuffing (or Dressing)
Tomato Sesame Pepper Rolls

Happy VeganMoFo!

VeganMoFo image from VeganMoFo.wordpress.com

Sexy Vegan Mama: Easy One-Rise Seedy Dinner Rolls

Mr. Wright requested that I make bread yet again this week. *sigh* Maybe I should start sharing some of my bread recipes so you people can make them and then invite him over to dinner. You know - spread the workload a bit?

Anyway, I was diligently working away, sending funny mommy stories to magazines across the country, and completely forgot about the bread until it was almost dinner time. I calculated the time it takes to make bread: measure, stir, knead, rise... form, rise, bake... Nope. Wasn't gonna happen.

Fortunately, I found a bread loaf recipe in Mother Nature's Garden that only required one rising. I didn't have all the ingredients, but so what!

I decided to do what I usually do when I make bread... I winged it.

Here's the dinner roll recipe, as I modified it:

Easy One-Rise Seedy Dinner Rolls

1 3/4 c. warm water
2 1/4 t. active dry yeast

1 T. dark molasses
1 T. shoyu or tamari or low-sodium soy sauce
2 T. olive oil

2 c. whole wheat flour
2 T. soy flour
1 T. black sesame seeds
2 T. flax seeds
2 T. dried onion flakes

2 to 2 1/2 c. unbleached white flour (I only used the white flour here because I was skeptical that using all whole wheat would allow for enough of a rise with one rising. Next time, I'll probably try it with all whole wheat flour.)

Pour water into a large bowl and sprinkle yeast on top. Allow yeast to dissolve, then stir in molasses, shoyu (or tamari or soy sauce) and olive oil.

In a separate large bowl (Are you lucky enough to have TWO clean large bowls? I had to wash one!), mix wheat flour, soy flour, seeds and onion flakes.

Use your spoon to make a small hollow in the center of the dry mix, then pour liquid mixture into it. Stir well.

Add white flour, 1/2 cup at a time, until dough is thick and kneadable. Knead for ten minutes, then divide into 24 equal rolls. (I put mine in oiled muffin tins.) See my video tutorial on how to shape perfect rolls here.

Allow to rise to double, then put into a cold oven.

Turn the oven on to 350 degrees and set your timer for 15-20 minutes. (I use smell to time bread, but I did set a timer this time so I could share the instructions!)

Here's the original bread loaf recipe, as found in Mother Nature's Garden:

Whole Wheat Seed Bread


Yields one loaf

1 3/4 c. lukewarm water
1 envelope active dry yeast
1 T. dark molasses
1 T. reduced-salt soy sauce or Bragg's Liquid Aminos (Bragg's would be my first choice, but I was out)
2 T. safflower or canola oil
2 c. whole wheat flour
1 T. sesame seeds
1 T. sunflower seeds
1 T. onion powder
2 T. soy flour
2 to 2 1/2 c. whole wheat flour

In a large bowl, stir the yeast into the warm water. Stir in the molasses, soy sauce or Bragg's, and oil, then stir in the next five ingredients, and mix well. Gradually stir in enough whole wheat flour to form a kneadable dough. Knead the dough on a floured board for 10 minutes, then shape the dough into a loaf. Put the loaf in a lightly oiled 9- by 5-inch nonstick loaf pan. Let dough rise in a warm place until it has doubled in bulk. Place the loaf in a cold oven, set the oven temperature to 350 degrees, and bake the bread for about 35 minutes, or until the crust is light brown. Remove the bread from the pan, and let it cool before slicing with a sharp serrated knife.

There you have it... You, too, can be a Sexy Vegan Mama, and your family will think you're a rockstar. The fact that it took half the time will be our little secret, okay?

Vegan Double Chocolate Chai Cake (Recipe)

I've had many requests for my prized vegan cake recipes from fellow vegans - and from friends who are looking for cholesterol-free desserts. Did you check your calendar today? Because today's the day I'm going to give away my top-secret recipe for my never-fail Vegan Double Chocolate Chai Cake!

This recipe makes one tall, decadent 8-9" round:

1 2/3 c. all-purpose flour
1 c. packed brown sugar or evaporated cane juice crystals
1/4 c. cocoa powder
1 t. baking soda
1/2 t. salt
1 1/2 t. loose chai tea
1 c. water
1/3 c. olive or canola oil
1 t. apple cider vinegar
1 t. vanilla

1/2 c. dairy-free chocolate chips (Did you know Kroger Value Semi-Sweet Chocolate Chips are dairy-free and amazingly cheap? I get them at Fred Meyer!)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. In a large mixing bowl, combine dry ingredients and mix. Add wet ingredients and beat on high with mixer for 2 minutes or beat 150 strokes by hand.

Pour into greased 8-9" round cake pan. (Note: I cut a circle of wax paper and place it in the bottom of the pan to help it come out of the pan easily. I highly recommend you do so, too. This recipe doesn't have any eggs to bind it, so the wax paper helps the bottom of the cake stay together when it's warm.) Sprinkle chocolate chips over top of batter before placing in oven.

Bake for 35-40 minutes, or until the cake begins to pull away from the sides of the pan and a toothpick inserted into the middle of the cake comes out clean.

Let cool in pan for 15 minutes, then turn out onto a cooling rack. Wait another 15 minutes, then turn right-side up onto a pretty plate.

This sweet cake needs no frosting, but you may dust with powdered sugar, if desired.

Photo: Snugglebug and Curlytop love helping make this cake. They ALMOST get as many chocolate chips on the cake as they do in their mouths!

A Girl and Her Dog... Meat?

In our house, the source of meat is no secret. Mighty, mighty hunter that he is, Mr. Wright is very forthcoming with the kids about what they're eating. Plus, our kids visited the Angus in our freezer, back when it still walked the pastures of Bullet Bob, our friend and proprietor of Gyurkovics Ranch and Wedding Chapel. Bullet Bob married me and Mr. Wright (to each other, of course).

Snugglebug and Curlytop describe meat by the animal it came from. "Daddy, I want some cow," or "I want more deer, please." It's enough to turn a vegan mama's stomach. I used to wonder how the girls would respond when we got to the point in our Native American heritage studies where we discussed whale hunting, but now I just worry about how I will explain it without crying.

Curlytop's speech therapy has paid off in a huge way. We're so proud of her! She's speaking in complete sentences and using vivid, active words to describe what she sees and feels. There are still a few phrases she gets mixed up on, like instead of saying, "I want to show you something," she says, "I want you to show me something." We continue to work hard every day.

This morning, as Mr. Wright cut up a roast to put in the crock pot, Curlytop stood on her toes to see over the counter and asked a question. I was sure I'd either heard her wrong or she had some words confused, so I asked her to repeat herself.

Sure enough, she said again, "Daddy, is that meat of puppies?"

"No, Sweetie. It's cow."

"Oh. Not puppies? I want some cow!"

"Okay, but we have to cook it first, alright?"

Curlytop shrugged. "O...kay," she pouted. Mommy's little barbarian.

I got Curlytop off to school and pulled Snugglebug into my lap while I fired up my computer. When chaotic mornings allow, I find I actually like working with her sitting between my arms while I type. "Mom, I love you," she said as she got comfortable. Awwww... those heartstrings pull to the point of breaking, sometimes!

I should have known she was just buttering me up because she wanted something.

Snugglebug pulled off both of her socks and turned herself so she could put her feet in my face. "I want piggies," she said. Please understand, in my world, This Little Piggy goes a little differently than some of you may remember:

This little piggy went to the farmers' market;
This little piggy stayed home.
This little piggy ate tofu (not "toe food");
This little piggy had naan.
And this little piggy cried, "Wee, wee, weeeee..."
All the way home.

As the girls have grown up a bit, I've begun letting them choose their own piggy adventures. I start the story for each piggy, and let the girls finish. Today's piggies went like this, with my part in italics, and Snugglebug's in bold:

This little piggy went to... the new house!
This little piggy stayed... at the new house!
This little piggy ate... PUPPIES!
This little piggy had... PUPPIES!
And this little piggy cried, "Wee, wee, weeeee..."
All the way home.

Was there a butcher's special on puppy meat? Should I be concerned that piggies are having puppies? Our dogs are beginning to look a little nervous, and Kobi just asked me to double-check his AKC lineage.


Oh, have I mentioned you can pre-order my book now, and save tax and shipping? Do it because you love me.

Photo credit:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/josefnovak33/ / CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

Kobe: How Do People In Japan Stay So Slim?

There's food everywhere you turn.

You can't walk twenty paces in any direction without arriving at a bento vendor or a vending machine. On the JR (Japan Rail) trains, quiet girls with ready smiles push carts stuffed with snacks and beer down the aisles. Business meetings often seem to be centered around the activities of eating and drinking.

Yesterday, we took the bullet train from Tokyo to Kobe, where we met up with National Association of REALTORS leadership, as well as our group of Washington REALTORS leadership and staff. Once we checked in to our hotel (We have a beautiful room at the Portopia Hotel; see our view above), we headed out to a casual restaurant where we were treated to a multi-course dinner, served in the manner we call "family-style" in the States. You know, where there are large portions served in the middle of the table, and everyone helps themselves? Anyway, the Hyogo REALTORS had made the reservation for us and planned the menu.

Since I'm vegan, I knew I wouldn't be able to eat a lot of the offerings, so I made an instant meal at the hotel and ate before we left. BIG MISTAKE. Once the restaurant hostesses saw my appetizer sitting there, untouched, they asked one of our interpreters why I wasn't eating. I'd prepared a list of foods I couldn't eat, and Kat (she's a REALTOR in Portland, Oregon but grew up in Kobe and is here visiting family) communicated what my restrictions were. The staff then began bringing me all manner of vegan edibles, and I had to ask Kat three times to ask them to stop bringing me food.

There was a lot of food. I mean, there were twelve of us, and we couldn't finish it off.

This morning, we had breakfast at the hotel. One of the things I'm enjoying is having a wide variety of foods at breakfast, and staying away from Western standards like cereal and toast. While Mr. Wright was having sausage and eggs this morning, I ate all of this:

Coffee; tomato juice; a salad with wild greens, seaweed and sesame dressing; grapefruit juice; miso; edible wild plants with soy sauce; burdock and carrot broiled in sugar and soy sauce; a selection of Japanese pickles, including pickled plums, pickled Chinese cabbage, pickled cucumber, and nozawana; fresh grapefruit, pineapple and lichi.

This afternoon, we're going to a ceremony for the Hyogo Real Estate Association's 50th anniversary. Oh yes, there will be food.

Did I mention everything seems to revolve around eating?

Tokyo Breakfast

I had no problem finding seemingly vegan food at our hotel's breakfast buffet.

Photo (clockwise, from top left): miso soup, fresh pineapple and kiwi, coffee (thank God), roasted potatoes with carrot and squash, rice, an assortment of Japanese pickled things including lotus root

Mr. Wright and I are going to tidy up our room and take a walk. This afternoon we take the bullet train to Kobe.

Oh, I almost forgot! When I put my foot into my shoe this morning, I felt something weird in the toe. I reached in and pulled out one of Curlytop's sponge letters.

Awwwww! My heartstrings definitely got tugged. When Mr. Wright travels without me, I always send something of mine with him so he'll think of me. Before he goes, I ask, "Are you carrying something of mine, besides my heart?"

Turns out, I carried something of Curlytop's to Japan.

I Can't Take Her Anywhere: Guest Post by Mr. Wright

What's it like, living with a troublemaker like The Gonzo Mama? Why not ask my guest blogger, Mr. Wright?

I can’t take her anywhere.

If there is one thing I can say about The Gonzo Mama, it is that I cannot take her anywhere, at least without her causing a scene of epic proportions.

I know you all will find it hard to believe that the mommy blogger extraordinaire with something to say about everything in her writing is the alter ego for a mommy extraordinaire who says something about everything in real life.

Now, I am not saying that going out in public with The Gonzo Mama is going to mean getting into a fight with her, or because of her. I am saying that it is always exciting.

To put it in perspective, she has actually only incited one riot resulting in physical violence, and me having fight off not one, not two, but three douche bags over her calling to their attention that their drunken slurring of a British slang term for a cigarette was inappropriate and offensive.

A strike for political correctness and sexual orientation sensitivity, and a strike that left my eye swelled like a blueberry on Major League steroids.

Now, I am not talking about making a comment to creepy lurker dudes, or telling off drunks in a club who place an errant hand on her backside. Those are not even in the same league or sport.

The typical norm is much more along the lines of brutally honest critical opinions that, by comparison, make Simon Cowell look like a patronizing butt smoocher.

I must admit, many people must find it helpful to have their grammar corrected in public.

And who would not want to know that the root beer they are drinking has most likely been filtered through fish guts?

Even the finest chefs could not object to the constructive criticism of having their work compared to hamster vomit.

I would find playing an extra in an off-Broadway production of Brokeback Mountain preferable to having to relive Gonzo Mama’s frequent inquires about other people’s fashion choices.

I will share one time, lobbying at the capitol, we passed a lady exercising her right to free speech by standing silent, holding a sign promote valuing the sanctity of life for unborn children. Not a shock sign, showing pictures of a disfigured fetus, but a tasteful picture of a baby. A rather large gentleman was badgering her and pelting her with obscenities. As we walked by he yelled a derogatory comment about the Bible. The Gonzo Mama interjected, “Well, I believe in the Bible.” His response was quick. “If you believe in the Bible, then you are a firetrucking idiot!” (Please see other writing of The Gonzo Mama for the back story on “firetrucking.”)

At that point, I instructed The Gonzo Mama to keep walking. I drew this outspoken individual close, looked him in the eye and in a low voice calmly discussed his options with him. He looked at me. I assured him, “I am serious as a heart attack.” He quietly chose the option of turning and walking away, as opposed to having his guts stomped in by a kilted tassel loafer worn by a man in a rather smart three button suit.

On our most recent trip, we found ourselves in a convention tradeshow and at a booth offering free CFL light bulbs (the twisty kind). They were promoting helping the environment. The Gonzo Mama pointed out these twisty buggers contained mercury that ends up in landfills and anywhere these things are broken. They are, in fact, much worse for the environment than traditional incandescent bulbs. Not withstanding they make some contribution to the environment, in that they lead to less power consumption of electricity generated by use of coal of fossil fuels.

The Gonzo Mama powers her abode with power that is CO2-free, from renewable hydroelectric power, so even that is not an issue. Twisty bad, old-school good. As I faded into a side conversation with another attendee, the Gonzo Mama entered into an increasingly heated discussion with the sales representative, moving to the topic of veganism. When the rep offered, “Well, in college I tried being a vegetarian for awhile, but it was just a phase,” The Gonzo Mama’s reply was, “Well, in college many girls are lesbian for awhile.” I took my cue and ushered The Gonzo Mama hurriedly away with the promise of a venti soy chai.

[The Gonzo Mama MUST interject here. The woman was saying, "But you haven't always been vegan, right? I mean, people don't RAISE THEIR KIDS LIKE THAT, do they?" I was responding, "Sure, some people do, and CPS even lets them keep their kids, sometimes..." when she busted out with the "it's just a phase" thing. What was I SUPPOSED to say?]

Life is meant to be lived to the fullest. One thing that I can count on is I can’t take her anywhere, and expect it to be boring.

Mommy Masochism: Piece of Cake?

What kind of an insomnia-plagued masochist would work through the night, forgoing sleep and the promise of sweet dreams, baking and decorating custom cakes for four children who probably aren’t as interested in the cakes’ appearance as in the cakes’ taste?

A mother; that’s what kind of masochist.

The closure of Beebe Bridge delayed the birthday celebrations for Curlytop, who turned four on August 19th; Pepper, who turned thirteen on September 3rd; and Snugglebug, who turned three on September 13th. After more than three years, the adoptions for Curlytop and Snugglebug finalized on September 22nd, and Pockets turned 15 the day after.

Clearly, a party of epic proportions was in order, once the bridge reopened and all our beloved friends and family were able to reach our home with minimal inconvenience.We decided on a Saturday, so as not to interfere with Pockets’s football games on Fridays. Pepper, of course, wanted a slumber party. How could we deny her? A girl only turns thirteen once, and if she wishes to celebrate by having seventeen girls stay the night, so be it.

I stocked my pantry with flour, sugar, food coloring, sugar, cocoa powder, and more sugar. My plan was to bake the cakes during the day on Friday, and decorate them Friday night. Of course, my plan failed to allocate time for the appointments I’d scheduled on Friday and the football game that night. As a result, I started baking at around 10:30 p.m.

Curlytop and Snugglebug each needed a birthday cake, of course, as did Pepper and Pockets. What about the adoption? Surely we needed a cake to celebrate the adoption! That’s how I found myself, at 4:00 a.m., baking a fifth cake and mixing up ten pounds or so of vegan “buttercream” frosting.

Curse my vegan principles, which prevent me from using a standard cake mix and canned frosting! After all, why spend all night making cakes I can’t eat?

Deciding on the decoration for Pockets’s cake was a no-brainer: football, of course. I dyed a batch of frosting green, fashioned goal posts out of pipe cleaners, and placed a small toy football in the center. Done!

Pepper plays volleyball, but I had no idea how to draw a volleyball, let alone frost one. In a stroke of brilliance, I mixed two more cakes at 4:15, planning a glorious tower of alternating chocolate and vanilla layers, with strawberry filling and raspberry frosting, with rosebuds creeping from the bottom to the top of the third layer. It took about three hours, and the resulting creation looked not unlike a matrimonial monstrosity.

(Indeed, upon seeing the finished product, one of Pepper’s friends exclaimed, “I want my wedding cake to look just like that!”)

Okay. Maybe I got carried away.

Determined to keep things simple for the “adoption cake,” I brainstormed what I could do with the heart-shaped strawberry cake I’d baked. I mean, a heart is just a heart, right? What can a person do with a heart? Unless…

I turned the cake upside-down, placing the point upward. Two hours later, two chubby-cheeked princesses with pointed hats meeting at the tip of the heart, complete with trailing satin ribbons, resided on top of the cake.

(I have a step-by-step how-to with photos for this cake here)

By 9:30 a.m., the sun was glaring in my kitchen window. The kids were up. Mr. Wright was up. Me? I was on my seventh cup of coffee, covered in flour, with two more cakes to frost and quite a few clumps of frosting in my hair. I covered the two small star-shaped cakes for Curlytop and Snugglebug with pink frosting, piped their names on top, and collapsed into bed.

It’s inevitable that, when I decorate custom cakes for my kids, some party guest will ask me if I’d be willing to make the cake for their kid’s birthday.

Yeah, right.

This special kind of self-torture is something I only perform for my own kids, thank you very much.

By the way, can anyone tell me how long leftover cake can be frozen? Or rent me some freezer space?

I Hope Jesus has a Sense of Humor

When GirlWonder's fifth-grade teacher informed us that our darling was an excellent student but had a habit of "blurting" out of turn, I wasn't surprised. In fact, I am pretty sure where she gets it.

I harnessed my dubious talents of blurting and having a general lack of decorum at a very young age. In fact, I skipped the third grade due to said talent. "I can't have her in my classroom another day," an exasperated Mrs. P complained to the principal and my mother. "She talks out of turn, blurting out answers. True, they're correct answers, but... I just think perhaps she isn't challenged enough."

Two weeks later, in Mrs. I's fourth-grade classroom, I spent recess inside, listening to her chastise me for correcting her in front of the class. "Perhaps you are, indeed, very familiar with Roman numerals. Perhaps the example that I posted on the board was, in fact, incorrect. However, in the future, you will call it to my attention privately, and not blurt it out in front of the entire class."

Well, sheesh. I was only looking out for the best interests of my fellow students. I mean, what kind of an education could they be expected to receive if I couldn't correct the errors of our teacher?

My high school English teacher actually removed me from the classroom for the duration of my senior year. "I feel that perhaps my class isn't challenging you enough," he sighed. "Perhaps you would benefit from an honors class of sorts... Go write a book. Check in with me at the end of the year." He didn't fool me. He just wanted to remove my loudly-stated ideas from the classroom.

In college, a radical feminist professor threatened to fail me after I suggested - out loud, of course, and at the most improper time - that perhaps, as women, we might get our point across in a more diplomatic manner than shoving our demands down the throats of the entire male population.

True, these individuals held the keys to my educational success in their chalk-dusted hands, but it never really occurred to me to be afraid of ruffling feathers with my lack of propriety.

Jesus, though, is another matter. He holds my very salvation (along with "the whole world") in His hands.

Does Jesus make a note on my report card when I ask, in the middle of a sermon, if the land of milk and honey allows vegans? I'm seriously concerned about this. I mean, the Bible makes it sound like it's all that, but really? Milk and honey? Could it be any more un-vegan? What if I get to the land of milk and honey and find there is, in fact, no soy milk and no stevia? What am I going to do then?

And communion! I've screwed up communion so many times, I can't quite believe that it's not going on my permanent record. Sometimes, when my church forgets to order communion wafers, they substitute butter crackers or shortbread. On more than one occasion, I've piously placed the sacrament in my mouth, only to spit it out when I realized I just put a morsel of butter or egg-filled cookie in my mouth.

"What do I do?" I've asked my pastor. "I spit out the body of Christ! That can't be good, right? I mean, I'm a vegan on principle, and I don't think Jesus wants me to compromise my principles, but He can't be too impressed with me spitting out His body, right?"

I mean, really, what WOULD Jesus do?

Or, more appropriately, what would a vegan Jesus do? "The bread I'll multiply... But the fish? Really kid? Do you have any tempeh? Tofu?"

The Defense of (My) Marriage Act

(photo from latimesblogs.latimes.com)

Since tying the knot with Mr. Wright in 2004, I’ve realized that not everyone who loves us actually loves the idea of us… together. In fact, many a bookmaker was put out of business when we actually made it to our first anniversary, beating every bet that our respective circles of friends threw down.

Yes, we have beaten the odds in making it this far. After all, we are the consummate odd couple; living proof that opposites attract. I attribute much of it to my exceptional improvisational skills.

Have you seen my act? It starts with a question – usually cried out in a state of disbelief – and wraps with my song-and-dance answer. I call it, appropriately enough, “The Defense of (My) Marriage Act.”

From my liberal friends: You married a conservative?! I did not, in fact, marry a conservative. I married a political geek who looks at every candidate’s voting record on every issue. We are, for lack of a better term, “independents.” That is, he votes for his preferred candidates and advises me to vote for the same candidates. I listen, nod my head, and independently vote for my picks.

Sometimes we agree, sometimes we don’t. Even when we don’t, it still works. Look at James Carville and Mary Matalin; Maria Shriver and Arnold Schwarzenegger. It can be done.

From my vegan friends: You married a hunter?! Oh, yes. I did marry a hunter. In fact, we are probably one of the only families in America to be card-carrying members of both PETA and the NRA. I will say that I have much more respect for omnivores who procure their own meat than those who buy their steaks from the meat counter at their favorite chain grocery. I mean, if you want to eat dead flesh, at least have the bullocks to do your own dirty work.

The meat my children and my husband eat was either hunted and killed by my husband, or raised by someone in our family. These critters lived out in the open, never got injected with steroids or ate feed made of baby chickens (fed into the grinder while still alive). I can live with that, and I assert that there is more integrity in the meat in my freezer than in the graying top sirloin cut on display at the Meat-o-rama.

From my mother: You signed your Christmas cards with “Love and blessings from the Greg Wrights…!” Yes, Mom. I did. I know it shocks you to think of me as a dependent, mousy woman who identifies herself solely through her husband, so let me come clean on this one. Our combined families are so huge, I couldn’t bear to hand-sign all of the cards. I printed out labels instead, and perfunctorily stuck them inside the cards. I used “The Greg Wrights” to differentiate us from the Gary Wrights, the Ted Wrights, and the Reverend Jeremiah Wrights… and, I was too lazy to type in all nine of our names.

From my ex-boyfriends: You actually found someone to marry you?! Next question, please…

Sins of the Mother: When Animals Attack

I’m hanging all of my hopes for absolution on my daughter’s future career as a veterinarian. Perhaps, through Princess’s dedication to helping and saving animals, I will be forgiven by the animal kingdom for whatever sins I have committed in my previous lives.

I’ve always clung to the belief that animals know, instinctually, who is out to get them and who, conversely, is truly an animal lover that means them no harm. Why, then, has my life been littered with random attacks by wild and quasi-wild animals? I’m a vegan. I don’t eat animals. I try not to wear animals. I don’t steal their eggs, don’t subject them to naked humiliation by shaving them to spin their wool…

Obviously, in some previous incarnation, I was a hunter. Or a trapper. Or, simply, an animal hater.

How else to explain the unprovoked attack by a swan when I was three? That’s right – a swan. I was walking in the park with my mom and brother when a swan charged me and bit me. Perhaps my pre-vegan toddler breath smelled of chicken nuggets or eggs. Whatever the reason, the swan found my presence offensive and targeted me.

When I was five, I was attacked by a swarm of bees. In the bees’ defense, I did tromp over their home, but it was an accident that occurred during a rousing game of Follow the Leader through the woods near my friend’s house. She led, I followed… right over the top of a nest of bees. Her feet shook the bees up; mine angered them so thoroughly that they attacked, en masse, the little child attached to the intruding feet. The neighbors stripped my clothing down to my underwear to get the bees off while I screamed. My mother arrived in short order and, without access to a car, called the hospital instead of rushing me to the emergency room. She was told to pull the stingers out with tweezers (she stopped counting at 50), give me Tylenol, and watch for any alarming symptoms, such as a temperature over 105 degrees, paralysis, or death. Should any of those symptoms occur, she was to call 911 immediately. That’s right… if I died, she learned, someone should call 911.

At the age of six, I was bit by a ferret. Ferrets are interesting creatures in that they don’t bite and then let go. Instead, they bite and hold on, chewing the meat free. My six-year old screams were heard throughout the neighborhood, and the fingerprint of my right middle finger is permanently altered by a V-shaped scar through it.

In junior high, my face was scarred by Bambi. Not the real Bambi, of course, but a relative closely resembling the original friendly forest creature. Family friends had been feeding a little deer that visited their home, and I was fascinated by how tame he appeared. The sweet little guy was so cute, with his little budding antlers and big eyes. I fed him a carrot, and then wandered off to talk to my parents. Suddenly, I heard my name called, along with a loud “Look out!” warning. Alarmed, I turned around to see what the danger was, and found myself facing Bambi, reared up on his hind legs, hooves raised, ready to beat on my head. Instead, his hooves gouged down the middle of my face. As I raised my hands to my bloody face in pain and disbelief, someone explained to me that young male deer “play” with one another by beating each other on the heads with their hooves. How delightful.

Equally delightful was the experience of actually having to tell my friends at school that the deep, scabby trenches down my face were caused by the real-life version of a Disney character.

I fully expect, once Princess graduates from vet school and begins saving the animal world, whatever sins I’ve committed against nature will be fully atoned for. In my opinion, raising a veterinarian is a small price to pay for being able to walk out my front door without fear of being jumped by a gang of angry squirrels.