A few weeks ago I had the pleasure of finally dining at Edmund's Oast. I know, I'm probably the last person in town to try it. While all of the dishes our table tasted were excellent, one was particularly exciting to me on a philosophical level. "Gotta be their heritage chicken and Carolina Gold rice porridge?" you may be saying to yourself. "Or the lamb meatballs? Definitely the lamb meatballs." Nope.

The dish I tried, which incidentally was also the best thing I have tasted all year and this is counting all of my meals in New York City and elsewhere was the Oast's heirloom radishes and turnips. Served raw, the root veggies were split into gorgeously seductive cross-sections with their greens still attached and accompanied by an decadently smooth and sweet roasted carrot butter and a tiny finger-bowl of coarse salt. I know, I can hear you already "Radishes? Raw radishes? Are you kidding me?"

I am not.

A vegetable dish this sophisticated and subtle suddenly called to mind other innovative and artistic vegetable dishes that I have tasted in other cities in recent months. Amanda Cohen's smoked-and-fried cauliflower and waffles at her New York City all-vegetable restaurant Dirt Candy, where the menu boldly announces "anyone can cook a hamburger, leave the vegetables to the professionals." NYC East Village dynamo Narcissa's Carrots Wellington, which swaddles salt-cured, then cocoa-and-coffee-roasted heirloom carrots in a mole sauce and flaky puff pastry (and don't even get me started on their spit-roasted crispy beets in horseradish creme). And a riotously savory wild mushroom and sherry bisque at Geronimo in Santa Fe, N.M., which achieved new heights of tongue-coating richness without resorting to the admittedly effective crutch of animal lipids.

That I could get a vegetable dish equally minimalist, focused, and creative in Charleston made me think. With the growing vegetarian trend and the move of diners to follow author Michael Pollan's advice: "Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants," the more it seems to me that Charleston's next big food thing has to be an updated approach to high-end vegetarian and vegan fare.

For the discriminating omnivore, Charleston is a paradise of flesh. The chefs and restaurateurs of this city have built a well-deserved reputation on spinning even the humblest animals parts into transcendent mouthfuls of pure, fatty pleasure. But afloat upon this unctuous ocean of shrimp, ham hocks, and marbled beefsteak is an increasingly crowded raft of those who eschew meat and animal products. They are Charleston's vegetarians and vegans, and they are hungry.

What is it like to dine as a vegan in Charleston? There is, of course, no shortage of casual breakfast and lunch locales providing creative options for the meat-free, with Butcher and Bee, Dell'z Uptown, Sprout Caf, and numerous others standing out among them. Dinner time is another story. While most fine-dining establishments will make concessions to those who have eliminated animal products from their diets, the options available are often much more limited than for those who delight in more carnivorous exploits.

In many cases, the go-to option for vegetarians and vegans is what I will summarily dub the seasonal vegetable plate (SVP). It is almost always manifested as an assemblage of all of the restaurant's vegetarian sides and garnishes, arranged, like a kaleidoscope on a large circular dish. Sometimes the dish is square this does not matter. Even the plated concept of the SVP itself is tricky for the subconscious. When poorly executed it can feel like vegetable enthusiasts are made to eat from a grab bag into which can be conveniently dumped anything that passes for "vegetarian" on a given night some barley risotto here, a few spears of asparagus, and sure, throw in some of that steamed broccoli. While the voluntary accommodation on the part of the restaurant is surely appreciated, it's a little frustrating to those who eschew meat but still appreciate the artistry and sophistication of a composed, balanced, and thoughtful entre.

However, there are standouts amongst the crowd. And talking to some of Charleston's culinary leaders seemed to be the best way to shed light onto the varied methodologies of the SVP. While a few chefs positively bristled at the mention of this dish, most were not only willing but eager to discuss their approach to cooking for Charleston's cruelty-free denizens.

Indaco's Chef de Cuisine Andy McLeod, for instance, says that offering the seasonal vegetable plate is a decision based on emphasizing locality, seasonality, and freshness. "Sourcing is our primary focus," McLeod says. "Having a seasonal vegetable plate has been our approach to rotating through the best and freshest vegetables as they become available."

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Vegetarian fare takes center stage, but you have to ask for it

Wednesday, January 7, 2015 - 3:52pm

CNN (CNN) -- Atlanta Chef Linton Hopkins wanted to eat healthier and lose weight.

As a cancer survivor, he tried all kinds of diets, but the calorie-counting and portion-control did not work for his busy lifestyle, he said.

By comparison, giving up all animal products was easy to understand: "There's no gray area."

Nudged on by his wife, he began experimenting with veganism in June 2014.

Diets can be hard, especially if eating is your livelihood. Surprisingly, perhaps, some in the food world have found the path of least resistance through cutting out meat and, in some cases, dairy and fish.

But, as their experience shows, changing up your regimen does not have to be all or nothing.

Vegetable cookery was familiar terrain to Hopkins, a James Beard award-winning Southern chef. Despite the region's reputation for BBQ and fried chicken, Southern food leans heavily on vegetables, even if they are often cooked in fatback or butter. The vegetable plate at his fine-dining eatery, Restaurant Eugene, consistently receives praise from vegetarians and was named one of the best in the South by Southern Living. It also can be prepared vegan upon request.

To eat vegan at home, the challenge was to create vegetable dishes free of animal fat or flavoring that were as "crave-able as BBQ," Hopkins said. As a chef, he was absolutely willing to take matters into his hands.

Instead of butter, he mastered vegetable stocks and glazes for roasting vegetables. He experimented with essential oils of nuts to bring out flavor in sauted vegetables.

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From omnivore to vegetarian: 'No gray area'

By Joe Yonan Food and Dining Editor January 6 at 8:02 AM

Tips for cooking tempeh, the fermented soybean cake:

Introduce a liquid. Tempeh, especially the supermarket variety, can be on the dry side unless you marinate it, which also adds flavor. That marinade can become a simmer sauce or glaze. Or bake tempeh in a marinade for maximum absorption.

Break it down. Slice it crosswise into thin pieces or cut the block in half horizontally, to help flavors penetrate it and to increase the surface area that will get browned. Or crumble or grate it to approximate ground meat.

When pan-frying, go easy on the oil. Tempeh will absorb whatever you throw at it, so use only enough to keep it from drying out (and even then, resist adding very much) or it can get greasy. A nonstick or cast-iron skillet works best.

Dont be afraid to deep-fry. Especially after you marinate it, frying tempeh (a traditional Indonesian technique) gives it a fantastic texture, inside and out. Make sure the oil is hot (365 degrees or so), and drain the tempeh on a cooling rack set over a paper-towel lined platter to keep it crisp.

Search for freshly made tempeh, then start by treating it simply: Thinly slice, fry and season with salt. That way, you can appreciate the unique flavors imparted by the artisan who made it and the particular beans and grains that were used.

Excerpt from:
Weeknight Vegetarian: Tempeh cooking tips

By Joe Yonan Food and Dining Editor January 6 at 8:00 AM

Maybe one day, because of the growing number of people seeking vegetarian meals, meat alternatives, fermented foods or all of the above, a certain soy product with age-old ties to Indonesia will finally break into the U.S. mainstream.

Call it my New Years wish.

Im talking about tempeh, the cultured soybean cake with as much protein as beef. If youve seen it, it has probably been shrink-wrapped in the refrigerator case at your nearest Whole Foods, next to the tofu and the seitan and some veggie crumble or another. Or maybe youve tasted it in a veggie burger or on a vegan Reuben, or youve tried smoky strips marketed as Fakin Bacon.

What you might not have realized is this: Fermentation makes tempeh quite possibly the most nutritious, digestible form of soy around. Its also one of the least-processed, using the whole bean (as opposed to tofu, made from soy milk).

At least in this month of resolutions and recovery, tempeh should be on your agenda. And it doesnt need to taste like punishment: Tempeh has much more than nutrition to recommend it, including an earthy, slightly bitter, even somewhat sweet flavor and a firm, nutty texture, giving it more character than tofu will ever possess. Yet, like tofu, it can be a chameleon, soaking up more flavor from marinades and sauces, which makes it surprisingly versatile.

If you know how to cook it, that is.

Like many vegetarians, I was first drawn to tempeh a few years ago as a plant-based protein. I opened a package of Lightlife brand, cut it into thick slabs, pan-fried it and watched in awe as it absorbed as much oil as I could put in the pan, and then some. I seasoned it lightly with salt and pepper, took a bite, and .... hmm. It was a little dry inside, with a slightly sharp flavor. This obviously was an acquired taste, I figured, which I obviously hadnt yet acquired.

What was I expecting? How many proteins taste all that great after a mere pan-frying? (Bacon lovers, dont answer that.) Soon enough, I started glazing tempeh after I pan-fried it, usually in a soy-sesame combination or sometimes one of miso, mustard and honey. I liked it much better enough to cook it now and then, but not often enough to make it as much of a go-to ingredient as, say, beans.

It wasnt until I started treating tempeh as seriously as I do other staples, seeking out tips and recipes, that I began to unlock its potential. Now that Im falling for tempeh, Im falling hard.

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Weeknight Vegetarian: Make 2015 the Year of Tempeh

By Matt Cantor

Newser

This photo taken on Oct. 5, 2013, shows radishes, carrots, turnips, and beets at a farmers market near Langley, Wash.(AP Photo/Dean Fosdick)

Given a variety of reasons not to eat meat these daysthink health, climate change, worker and animal welfaremany people are limiting the meat on their menus. But it's a splintered movement, with some going vegan, others vegetarian, and still others simply reducing their intake of animal products.

This can lead to tensions, which is one reason 25-year-old Brian Kateman co-founded a movement called "reducetarianism," AlterNet reports. It's "an identity, community, and movement," he says, and its website sums it up: "Aspire to eat less meat? Then you're a reducetarian!" "Identifiers such as 'semi-vegetarian' and 'flexitarian' sound weak and inconsistent and describe individuals who primarily eat fruits and vegetables with the occasional inclusion of meat," Kateman notes.

The movement includes those people, as well as others who eat more meat, and "encourages (everyone) to gradually eat less meat." The reducetarian website calls on followers to make a pledge to eat less meat for a month; it suggests trying meatless Mondays or avoiding meat at dinner if you had it for lunch.

Unlike similar movements, reducetarianism isn't focused on just one philosophy, Kateman says: It advocates reducing meat intake for both ethical and health reasons. A crowdfunding campaign is working to bolster the movement, including sending "ambassadors" to schools.

(Perhaps the measured approach will help subscribers avoid a vegetarian pitfall: keeping it up for just a year.)

This article originally appeared on Newser: What to Call a Non-Vegetarian Who's Eating Less Meat

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People who eat less meat, but still some, get their own name