Sunday, 20 November 2011

"Higham on the Hill, Stoke in the dale; Wykin for buttermilk, Hinckley for ALE." - Shakespeare.

Inkymole and Factoryroad sponsored an ale apiece at this year's CAMRA Real Ale Festival. We've never done it before, but what an adventure. You see, you don't know what ale or cider you're going to be allocated…till you get there, dry throated, with tokens and £2 beer glass in hand.

Mole's beer could not have been more perfect. Holden's Old Ale is brewed 'by a woman' (to the handlebar-moustachio'd barman's shock and awe!), and it was dark, slightly rough and chocolatey - and a whopping 7.2%. Had I been that woman who'd brewed it, I couldn't have designed a more perfect spec. Not a good one to start off with though - had to have a volumetric climb-down with a 6% and 4% to follow. Either that or roll home uphill, blind. Check the cheesy pun on the cask - (my own literary skilz) and the fact that they left off my logo!

The Factoryroad beer was disappointing and weak, with a funny after taste. Its rubbish taste though was slightly offset by the magnificent punuendo in the name of the beer, so all wasn't lost. Check Factoryroad's label. Again the creators had clearly been on the sauce while they got the labels printed out, sat no doubt at a creaking PC with one eye on their glasses, mis-spelling, as they did, the word 'how' and casually inverting the logo so it sat in a weird black box.

Still, we're not (for once) here to crit the visuals. Who cared once the first couple were sunk?

If you want to find a real ale event where you live, you'd do no worse than to look here:

Holden's Brewery:
An alphabetical list of real ales and independent brewers in the UK:

Tuesday, 8 November 2011

Booze for free.

I've just got a copy of this book I did the cover for earlier this year, by Andy Hamilton.

We're a long way from self-sufficiency, but we're working on it - we've had the gas disconnected and we heat the house and water with wood instead. We've been buying our vegetables from a farm half an hour down the road for the last ten years or so, always organic, always amusingly miss-shapen,  always delicious, we did the biodiesel thing for years, and I make my own skin cream…well, like I said, we're not there, but we try to make the right moves in that direction!

The book tells you how to make intriguing-sounding brews such as Broad Bean Wine, Pine Needle Cordial and Nocino, an Italian green walnut cordial. None of them are complicated, or fussy; you just need to focus, keep your kit clean (most of which you'll have at home) and most importantly have some space at home to store the fermenting oceans of potential goodness. Our friend Simon' does this already, and his recent birthday cider was impressively cloudy and delicious, needing maybe a little longer in hibernation, but certainly a shouder-softening testament to what can be done with some foraged apples, water and patience.

Here's the artwork for the book, along with an alternative version which didn't make the cut, and a place to buy it!

Sunday, 9 October 2011


Autumn is finally here!

We know this because of three things:

1) I'm wearing a jumper and boots.

2) There's horseradish coming next week.

3) We carried two enormous pumpkins (a Tom Fox and an Atlantic Giant - we think) out of Rickards' farm gate today and dropped them into the back of the car. These are for pumpkin soup for the upcoming show, but we'll be back next Sunday with a few quid to invest in some big beasts for Hallowe'en (we always eat those too!)

We also got a pocketful of their home-grown chillis too, for the soup which always has to have a little bite to it.

In addition, check these carrots, who've been hiding in the ground ready for All Hallow's Eve...

Just thought we'd share the love.

Saturday, 13 August 2011

Nature guffaws at us.

Went strawberry picking with Dad recently.

How nature knew I needed my spirits lifting, I'll never know, but she did, like when she sends bonkers frogs one centimetre in length to our pond where they do irrational things way too risky for something that's only just lost its tail.

Yep, on this day Nature outwitted me with a display of accidental vulgarity that would rival the most energetic Facebook photo collection. How did they get like this? I'm not sure I want to know - I didn't SEE a Monsanto lorry anywhere - but they had a sweetness that belied their robust and manly appendages.


Mole's Dirty Tofu.

We've been asked twice in the last few days what to do with tofu, so I am sharing my recipe for super-easy but filthy-tasting baked tofu here.

Now I can eat tofu straight from the packet, but the key to making it appealing to omnivores as well as giving it Sunday-dinner levels of satisfaction is to bake it. Stir-frying is OK, but you need to get the timing and heat just right in order to get that crispy outer/soft inner and it can too easily go wrong.

Neither an apologist substitute for those rectally-infused eyelid tubes known as sausages nor a fake-meat cross-dresser of a vegan stand-in, this is full-on juicy, oily protein with plenty of B vits, herbs, salt and crackly edges.

We do this - but feel free to adlib, maybe with a little black pepper or chillies for some extra excitement!

Take one pack of tofu, smoked or plain, your choice (don't do this with the flavoured ones).
Good olive oil, tomatoes, Engevita, Marigold vegan bouillon - Holland and Barrett (or your local health food store should) sell both of these - smoked paprika, black pepper. You won't need salt.

Wash the tofu well and pat it dry. Leave it, preferably, to dry off for a bit wrapped in a towel (makes edges crispier when cooked).

Take a shallow metal dish - not silicone, but glass is OK - and swill plenty of olive oil into the bottom.

Cut the tofu into thickish slices (half an inch) and lay the first layer of slices - we have two here, but that depends on your dish and tofu size. Keep it one-layer-deep only.
Gently score the top so the juices can get in.
Rub a teaspoon of bouillon over the surface, then sprinkle a heaped teaspoon of Engevita over that. Sprinkle with a little smoked paprika.
Drizzle with olive oil.

Lay the next layer, and repeat what you just did.

Do it again for any further layers till all the slices are used.
Make sure the top is nicely oiled.
Lay sliced tomatoes around the edges, sitting in the olive oil.
It should look something like this!

Bake for 30 minutes at 180C; it should come out bubbling around the edges with melted, brown-edged tomatoes and sizzling tofu corners. Like this:

We ate ours with a giant turnip boiled whole in salted water, then sliced and baked in the oven and served with salad and raw courgettes. Meaty eh? If you cook this and anyone fails to see what a juicy filthy treat this is, either they're blind with no sense of smell, oh and no tastebuds, and possibly no tongue, or you haven't done it right. Man up, take whatever punishment is due to you, then go back and cook it again.

Download the recipe as a PDF here:

Tuesday, 26 July 2011

All Tomorrow's Bellies.

it's unusual to be so well catered for at a festival. For many years, festival food for vegan people meant falafels or noodles, handled by greasy 'yeah I just picked up your food with the meat spoon, so what?' servers.

So it was with an inordinate amount of relief that we read the line-up of food choices for ATP's Portishead-curated 'I'll Be Your Mirror' at the weekend. David Bailey who runs the raw-food cooking courses for Saf - more on that later - was there in his handsome grey 'Wholefood Heaven' H-Van supplying Buddha Boxes - a quality-carb loaded box of brown rice, tofu, Thai curry and fresh crisp kale with an omega-based crispy topping. This, dear readers, sustained us through all of Saturday night's leg-challenging performances. Sadly, we were so busy shoving this down our throats we didn't get a picture. Oh well. You'll have to imagine it.

Alongside him was a pair of Antipodean chip-makers in floral aprons and pink sandals, offering 'Chunky Chips' in three sizes. Here is one of them, proffering fried potato. These were served with the usual array of condiments, but could also be served with vegan-safe gravy, mushy peas, beans or curry sauce (the vegan-ness of which I've never been able to verify - can anyone else?) We chose butterless chip unbutties. I'll willingly buy chips from a man who's comfortable wandering a festival for two days in one of these.

Round on the other side of Alexandra Palace stood the Taco Truck. It sold only two types of taco, the queue for which, like everything else, was big but not Glasto-hellish. Offering only two options seems like a good move - keeping it simple and light, with only one ingredient's difference - makes economic sense, surely. The tacos were fresh-made with either chicken or black beans, guacamole, salsa, onions and tomatoes, and sour cream and cheese which was not for us of course. But, for once, my request to make up the missing ingredients with something else was not ignored and seen as a chance to save a few pence, but was honoured with an additional generous spoon of guacamole. You'd be stunned at the frequency of rudeness this request is usually met with - as if the server is saying 'well, YOU'RE choosing not to have it - it's not our fault you're going to go without!'

Finally both days of the festival were begun with this slightly-better-than-adequate porridge made with soya milk from Jo and Al's in Finchley, en route to the Palace. Their range has expanded a bit since we last went in there about six months ago and were met with surly staff and a shaken head response to 'which of your things are vegan?' (you get used to this, but it doesn't make it any more acceptable). This time, there was porridge, pies, salads, a tart and massive fairy cakes with mountainous icing. So, if that little list is your idea of a good breakfast, head there.
We wish all festivals and big events had the carefully-curated choice of food spots that this one had, but we realise everyone isn't Barry Hogan, Geoff Barrow or Adrian Utley. There was something for everyone, and it was totally devoid of repugnant sponsorship and in-your-fucking-face beer advertising. Instead, just the gentle sense of the curators actually wanting us there, warm, fed and watered, and thus able to stand comfortably for the duration of every carefully-chosen band, and not broke and malnourished at the end of it.

Monday, 25 July 2011

Saniya from Suriname's Dal Recipe.

We live a few doors down from Saniya and her three children and husband, who began brightening our bellies with gifts of food when we were having our building work done last year. She'd bring meals for the builders, usually containing meat, so we couldn't partake. She asked why, we told her it was because of the things we couldn't eat, and a look of concern crossed her face. But eventually the builders left, and so did she - for a while.

We'd always said hello and had little chats at the door, then one night she brought round three hot little foil-wrapped packages of deliciousness. I returned the dishes, and the next day she asked for some emergency onions - I had only three, but was happy to let her have them, since whatever she made was bound to be better than the future I'd got planned for them. I got to find out for sure, because she brought round a dish full of it - hot fresh dal, with bread and pickle, again in hot foil packages.

This was repaid in cakes, and thus began an interchange in which the latest transaction was this gift of a recipe for her special dal. It's not hot, or particularly spicy - she's sniffy about the way Pakistanis 'over-complicate' their dal recipes! - but is deliciously smooth and creamy, and just melts in the mouth. She showed me this first hand and I wrote it down, so it's from the cook's hand, direct.

I doubt very much this will be the last recipe we post from Saniya!

It's here as a PDF if you'd like to print it off and cover it in oily pawprints in your own kitchen.

Read about Suriname and read about dal in general.

Take 3 mugfuls of Mung Dal (yellow).

Wash THOROUGHLY in running water, till water runs clear
(important, gets rid of dust and starch).

Put in a large pan with a lid, and add 3 x mugfuls of water to each mug of Mung Dal.

Make a separate mix of the following spices, one teaspoon of each:
- Fenugreek
- Cumin
- Nigella seeds
- Coriander

Then add to the water:
- 1 x teaspoon turmeric (turns it good and yellow)
- 1.5 teaspoons of the above spice mixture
- 3 teaspoons salt
- 2 cloves of garlic, sliced
- Half an onion, sliced (you'll need the other half later)

Bring the water to the boil.

As it’s simmering, carefully scrape off with a big spoon all the bubbly starch that forms on top. This is really important, as 'This is the bit that contains the flatulence', as Saniya put it, 'and the starch, which is mainly sugar, which make you...' (at this point she pats her stomach!) Get rid of it all and you get a much smoother, milkier mix.

When the dal is cooked - you'll know as all the dal will be really soft or 'melted', as Saniya calls it. Keep tasting and checking and stirring.

Cooking it in her pressure cooker took about 30 minutes, but I reckon it needs to cook on a normal stove-top for about an hour.

In the meantime, chop the remaining half of the onion and another two garlic cloves.
Put them in a small saucepan with sunflower or veg oil - nice and deep, so the onions is nearly covered.
Cook the onions in the oil till gently browned and soft - add the garlic right at the end, just so it cooks transparent and doesn't burn.

As soon as it's cooked, turn off the heat and tip the whole lot including the oil into the Dal.
Stir, and it's ready to serve! Serve with freshly cooked rice or bread of any sort.

Freezes and keeps in the fridge - but as always best fresh!

Sunday, 10 July 2011

Dirty Sangers.

Round here, Dirty Sangers describes a sandwich so good it's rude. One that gives you a boner. One you hope to repeat but there's no guarantee you ever will.

I'm sure even now people hear the phrase 'vegan sandwich' and picture a dry, brown layering of dust and earnestness with a side serving of smugness. We're here to tell you they can be lustful and wet, engorged with fillings and dressings and encased in fat, fresh bread. Usually home-made, just to give you that hint of expected smugness which is then smacked off your face by the moistness inside.

The trick is go with 'plenty'. Of everything. And keep it moist - olive oil, or lots of marge; more tomatoes than feels decent, or a vegan mayonnaise (Plamil's packaging is terrible, but the mayo is good - don't let it put you off). Hoummus - don't just show it the jar, smear it on like, well, like inch-thick hoummus on a sandwich. Our brand is San Amvrosia. Commercial sandwich makers, even cafes and restaurants, can be terrified of over doing the content, and that's where they go wrong. You need to be armed and dangerous with not just the main filling, but the moistness around it. If it's a hot sandwich, Brown or Ketchup, or Reggae Reggae sauce (which is vegan) is a fine mush to add.

Here are a couple of our recent ones. That's mayonnaise AND ketchup on the top one. Shame you can't taste or smell them. We did, they they were good.

Madeleine is wearing a Good Life Spicy Bean Quarterpounder with Chipotle Chilis, sliced gherkins, mushrooms, lettuce, ketchup, mayonnaise, tomatoes.

Josephine sports a half-inch think slice or three of Redwood's Cheezly (yes, cringe at the name, weep at the obscene mouth-feel of the fat and salt). mayo, lettuce, tomatoes, yellow pepper.

Other sandwiches we like are:

- Peanut butter and jelly (jam, if you're English)
- Fake bacon by Redwood's with mushrooms and onions and ketchup
- Sliced fake beef (don't worry, we're not obsessed with the whole fake meat shizzle, but it does sometimes come in handy) with lettuce and real mustard (Taylors)
- Chilli peanut butter
- Marmite, cheese (Cheezly) and Engevita - a salty B-vitamin orgy
- Classic cheese and onion

* We'll add to this as we go along. Sandwich updates to come.*

Gherkin off in the East End.

On Monday after a day working at the D&A New Blood student event in the Old Truman Brewery, Shoreditch, we found ourselves starving and unwilling to make the walk to Saf (lazy, we know). Having clocked Poppies' Chippie on the way there, we went back in about 7 o' clock for something to 'tide us over'.

What a surprise. You know somewhere's good when it's rammed with people. And there were actually benches outside we could sit on, unhassled by staff. The bloke at the counter wasn't phased at all by my asking whether the weapons-grade gherkins were 'amazing'. He just nodded very earnestly. So we had two of those, served wrapped in paper. They had to be clutched with a whole fist, but while good, could in all honesty have been a little more interesting on the pickle spice front.

We had a 'small' portion of chips, which were huge and crisp and fresh, the portion uncharacteristically generous for London. Doused in salt and lots of vinegar, they had that satisfying crunch on the outside, and that fat softness on the inside. We ate the lot - even the little crisps at the bottom which sometimes end up mushed by vinegar (the newspaper was fake, but who cares about that when hot carby salt and fat is all over your tongue?) £4.50 for the lot including a cream soda - really not bad.

On our bench outside we were able to marvel at the fish portions which, although not for the likes of us, looked crisp and lively - and large, though not vulgarly so, with fresh lemon on them. And the mushy peas weren't that classic cheap neon - made in-house, maybe? People were queueing to get served, and the man next to me who was devoid of chips told me he'd just finished his, but was sitting around a bit longer to enjoy the vibe.

Nice. A proper East End chippie without any of the tourist bollocks, or mugged-at-the-counter prices. We'll be darkening their door again.

Sunday, 3 July 2011

Mole and the Giant Turnip.

Just look at this lot:

This afternoon, these insanely bulbous turnips were picked for us by Walter Rickard, head of the Rickard clan, who with his wife Rose and their family run Willow Farm in Congerstone, where they've grown vegetables, fruit and plants for decades.

The fat broad beans and little luminous peas (which were squeaking with excitement) were picked by Leigh, Wally and I together, and let me tell you, there's nothing like getting on your knees in a dry sunny field and picking your own dinner. The lettuce I was allowed to cut with Wally's knife (an honour - that knife will have been with him for decades) - he showed me the right way to do it - and the calabrese we chose from three rows of the stuff. It wasn't the biggest there, but bloody hell, we're only feeding two of us.

We've been buying veg from the family almost every week for at least eight years - except for those weeks when we've not managed to eat our way through the previous box - and it never fails to impress us. You won't find this calibre of vegetable in any supermarket. You simply won't. Organic, local, huge, bulging with taste, and picked the same day. And everything you see in these particular photographs cost us a fiver.

Don't whinge to me about the occasional bug in the lettuce, or the wonky carrots, this is the real deal. If all you're interested in is cheapness, you can't do better. If all you're interested in is the environmental and health aspects, you can't improve on this. And if you're a taste connoisseur, it stops right here.

To get all four, twenty minutes down the road, is nothing short of a precious miracle. Albeit one fuelled by a family who work seven days a week 365 days of the year, in all weathers. We owe a large part of our health to the Rickard family, and tonight we salute them with a hefty serving of gravy.

Tuesday, 25 January 2011

9 courses, 8 days, 7 people, 6 veg, 5 hours, 4 ovens, 3 starters, 2 amateurs, 1 Jed.

Jed's Christmas Menu book

On Christmas Day 2010, we undertook the challenge of the awesome responsibility of cooking Christmas dinner for the family. That's seven people - not a huge gathering, you might argue, people do that all the time - but enough to get these two vegans to mentally sit up and take a sip of strong coffee.

The group consisted of omnivores, a vegetarian plus two vegans. The aim was a) to christen the new eating space built earlier that year, b) do a vegan Christmas dinner with slow panache, leaving stomachs full but not bloated, and c) to give Mum the day off. One Christmas day off in about 50 years is quite generous, we thought.

But we didn't want the usual. Traditional, yes; but grown-up and professional too. Time to call Jed Smith, friend, chef, Inkymole events food designer and wearer of unfeasably bright trousers. In Jed's words: 'No fake turkey; no fake sausages wrapped In fake bacon'.

Jed had just started working at Momofuko in New York, having moved from his London home, and had literally just arrived when he wrote this book for us full of ideas. It arrived by DHL in a charming envelope, and was full of 100% solid cooking gold. That he even had time to write it down, let alone conjure the recipes, is a source of wonderment. We spent two hours in Wholefoods in London (there for a Deadmau5 show) sourcing all the bits we needed.

Prep had to begin several days before and was hampered by a few Christmas Eve surprises - a leaky ceiling, a sawn-through cable and a busted clutch - and we didn't do everything on the menu (only because of shortness of time and the average size of a human stomach) but as it was, we got everyone here at 1pm, they had a mugful of soup, then the apple pastillos a bit later, then we rolled out the main dinner bit by bit. We ate for five hours.

Here we are then, the full menu:

Chestnut soup

Apple and tarragon pastillos

Radishes and sliced turnips with herb gremolata, and Dijon mustard and cider dressing

Salt-baked beetroots with cucumber in pickle liquor with dill oil (everyone LoVeD these)

Home-made nut roast
Roast tats and 'snips
Baked-whole-then-mashed celeriac
Carrots, sprouts and cabbage
Caramelised cauliflower cooked in juniper berry and tonic water
Home-made baked stuffing (vegan)
Vegan Yorkshire puds (Mum's recipe - to follow)
Onion and toasted mustard seed gravy

Christmas muffins with vegan cream

Christmas coffee (home-brewed decaf with star anise, cinnamon and cloves, with hazelnut, gingerbread, vanilla or cinnamon syrup

Lancashire and Leicestershire (Sparkenhoe) cheeses with vegan cranberry Cheshire, olives, home-made cashew nut cheese*, oatcakes and home-made chutney (sister and boyfriend live in Blackpool, hence the inclusion of a small-maker cheese from the Fylde)
*we made the quince cheese but have saved it for another day

Divine 'After-Eight' mints

Tea, red wine, beers, cider, and apple and beetroot juice, apple and rhubarb juice


The Rickard's Farm veg, ready for prep...

...spuds, Jerusalem artichokes, radishes*, snips, swede, sprouts
*which radish-hating sister ate raw, and having once begun, could not stop

Apple pastillos, with cider and mustard dressing being whizzed

Preparing the nut roast beginnings

Nuts being toasted for the nut roast

Nut roast done.

Whole-baked celeriac (took two hours)

Herb gremolata

Stuffing roll ready for the oven

Christmas muffins under construction

Close-up of the salt-baked beetroots with cucumber in pickle liquor with dill oil


Vegan Nut Roast (PDF) - this was a combination of a recipe from Wholefoods, and Jed's made-up version, with a bit of tinkering.

Monday, 24 January 2011

Basic Fairy Cakes.

In our house, Leigh = Bread and Sarah = Cakes. A right pair of dumplings then, you might think. Why d'you think we're in the gym so often, eh?

I was asked by our friend Toir yesterday for my best non-dairy cake recipes, for a baker friend who needed a little 'specialism'.
I am pleased to divulge below the basic recipe I keep in my holster. This is all you need for the complete and delicious sating of those sudden cake urges (they only take 23 mins or so to bake).

I'm not a fan of grammes and ounces; I prefer the simple American method of cup and spoon sizes. The bigger the cup, the larger the cake - bear that in mind!

Golden Vanilla Cup*cakes
(*the recipes are American - they've been catering for omissive diets for decades longer than we have!)
Makes 12

1 cup of soya milk (substitute rice milk if you can't do soy - but use a little less, as it's watery)
1 teaspoon apple cider vinegar (very important - this a mechanical, not a taste, ingredient)
1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons cornflour / cornstarch
3/4 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup non-dairy marge - Pure brand is best, the organic one, OR 1/3 cup of sunflower oil (canola oil if you can get it)
Note: I use slightly less than the half cup suggested - this will be a matter of personal taste after a few experiments)
3/4 granulated sugar/brown sugar
3 teaspoons organic vanilla extract

Preheat oven to 180 C.
Get your cake holders ready (silicone or paper - your choice! If silicone, oil LIGHTLY first).
Whisk soya milk and vinegar in a measuring cup and set aside to get good and curdled.

- If using marge:
Sift flour, cornflour/cornstarch, baking powder and soda with the salt into a large mixing bowl. Mix well.
In a separate bowl, use a handheld whisk to cream together marge, sugar and vanilla. Don't beat too long, the marge might begin to separate (I use a wooden spoon to do this job).
Beat in the vanilla then alternate beating on the soya milk mixture and dry ingredients. Scrape the sides of the bowl!

- If using oil:
Beat together the soy milk mixture, oil, sugar, vanilla and other extracts together in a large bowl.
Sift in the flour, cornflour/starch, baking powder/soda and salt until no large lumps remain.

Full cake liners two-thirds full and bake for 20-22 minutes till done.
Test at 21 minutes by poking a small sharp knife into one sacrificial cake. You can always put them back for a minute or two, but remember cooling toughens them up.
Transfer to a cooling rack and leave to cool COMPLETELY before attempting to remove from the cases - especially if using silicone!

Blob a load of icing on top.

You can make icing in the traditional way creaming together non-dairy marge and icing sugar, with some vanilla, lemon, cocoa etc. but make sure you increase the ratio of icing sugar to marge - it can be affected by heat and go a bit soft.

There is a whole raft of recipes for dairy-free icing - I'll deal with those in another issue. But, if you want more recipes, mine is based on one by the brilliant Isa Chandra Moskowitz, who wrote Vegan Cupcakes Take Over The World. It's something of a cake bible in this house, many of its recipes memorised and adapted time after time. For anyone serious about perfecting vegan baking in general, however, her PPK website is worth investigating. Because cakes aren't always FAIRY-SIZED, are they?

Download a PDF of this recipe here.

Sunday, 23 January 2011


This is my much-asked-about home-made gravy recipe. It's changed over time but this latest incarnation is the best so far. Stand by for me to change my mind about that at any moment.

Ingredients: this is the optimum list of ideal ingredients, and I'd suggest if you have to substitute, substitute only the hemp flour for plain white organic flour. The former is a little 'textural', the latter will be traditionally smooth. Don't try to leave anything out - it won't be as good.

Right, you need:

Generous splosh of olive oil
1 x finely-chopped onion, preferably red, but white is fine
A good few sploshes of Tamari or Shoyu soy sauce made by Suma or Meridien prefereably (DO NOT use cheapo commercially-produced soy sauce - Gravy Will FAIL) - to taste
Home-made vegetable stock (use the stuff you've just cooked your greens in)
Black pepper (you won't need salt, this comes from the Tamari/Shoyu)
Two heaped dessert spoons of Engevita (vegan yeast product, available in Holland & Barrett and all sorts of health food shops)
Two heaped dessert spoons of hemp flour

Optional: splosh of red wine (warning: makes it vulgarly rich).

Heat the olive oil and add the chopped onions, with the herbs and seasoning. Cook gently, stirring occasionally until browned and transparent.
Splash in the Tamari/Shoyu soy sauce, all over the onions.
Add the veg stock, a bit at a time, just to make a loose gravy.
Stir in the Engevita slowly and throroughly.
Keep stirring.
Put your flour of choice into a little jug or cup, and add COLD water to make a watery paste. Stir well. Add to the gravy slowly, stirring all the time.
Keep cooking gently on the stove top until the gravy thickens. It will wait for you on a low heat; just keep and eye on it and add a little more stock/water if it starts to look too thick/thin.

Link to printable PDF recipe:

(I know. This picture could be poo, or a terrifyingly strong curry; but it is what the gravy will look like. VINTAGE.)

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