Reader, if you know us, you know we like our time in the kitchen. All those culinary types we see on the Today Show talking about how no one has time to cook anymore and one can only be expected to make food at home if it takes a maximum of five minutes and it can be done while watching The Voice annoy the crap out of us. That said, we’re only human, and there are times that—despite our acute desire to hand-craft an exceptional vegan meal—it ain’t always in the cards.

Which is one of many reason we’re psyched that The Regal Vegan—New-York-based purveyors of the über-awesome lentil-walnut based spread and vegan-friendly ‘foie gras,’ Faux Gras (get it?)—has just debuted a brand new product—Basilicotta—which is, as you might have guessed, a ricotta-like basil cashew spread “designed to blow your mind.” It’s superb on crackers, lovely on some sliced baguette or daikon, or, as you can see from our photo above, made into a pretty primo pesto-like sauce.

We picked up a container of the stuff at the Brooklyn Flea at its 2012 outdoor re-opening in Fort Green a few weeks back and—as suggested by the regal vegan herself, Ella Nemcova—just added the spread with a little warm water to our cooked pasta. Add a few ‘dress-me-ups’ like some fresh basil leaves and crushed pistachios and you’ve got a quick, delectable, totally animal-friendly meal. That, I guess, you can make while watching The Voice.

Or maybe Girls. We’re really more of a Girls household.

It must be a nail-biting, harrowing decision to open a pizza joint in New York City, home of ‘modern day pizza’…that is to say, ‘pizza’. Akin, maybe, to opening a shaved ice stand in Alaska. Lucky for us, Paul Gianonne—AKA Paulie Gee—overcame whatever trepidation he may have held. But don’t mistake baseless risk-taking for plans well-laid. After becoming fascinated with wood- and coal-burning oven pizza years ago, Gianonne—a former IT professional—began exploring the various old-world-style pizzerias of New York and beyond with his sons. Then he eventually built his own Neopolitan-style wood-buring pizza oven in his Jersey backyard and inviting pizza bloggers (yes that’s a thing) over to test his wares. After perfecting his technique and building up some solid buzz, Gianonne opened Paulie Gee’s in Greenpoint in 2010—a vast, high-ceilinged, barn-like space that provides cavernous, late-night atmosphere in the middle of the day, doesn’t take reservations, boasts an impressive, rotating beer and wine list, and shovels out some of the best pizza we’ve ever had.

And we, of course, wouldn’t be writing about the place if they didn’t have some pretty exciting offerings for vegans. When we first visited, shortly after their opening, we were pleased to find that they not only offered the vegan, tapioca-based ‘cheese’ Daiya on their pies, they had a whole vegan menu, featuring house-made vegan sausage, aleppo chili oil, and a bevy of exciting topping combinations. Then, last fall, after being harassed by…someone in-restaurant and via the Twitter, Paulie added a cashew-based, ricotta-like nut ‘cheese’ (pictured above) that makes this place easily our favorite pizza spot in New York.

Pizza-lovers and vegans alike need to check this place out ASAP if they haven’t already. For those who do—Paulie’s the super-talkative, super-friendly grey-haired man likely wearing a baseball cap and going table to table to check on how you like meal. Ever a pleaser, that guy.

Check out Jane Pauley’s recent profile on Gianonne’s mid-fifties life change below. It’s got an awesome AARP-style soundtrack. Because it’s from AARP. You can see the full piece here.

I think we may have mentioned this before, but we’ve long been supporters of non-vegan restaurants that are willing to accommodate those of us with vegan sensibilities. Don’t get us wrong, we wish every single restaurant in the world was vegan for the same reason we wish every single person in the world was vegan—as a means to the end of minimizing animal suffering at the hands of humans. But we’re not the types to tell others that unless they live the lives we live, they suck. To the contrary, we wholeheartedly support and are excited by steps individuals and establishments take to bring us all closer to a kinder world. You stopped eating cheese? That’s awesome—one less cow confined to a life of misery. Your family’s doing Meatless Mondays? That is honestly superb—whether they stick with it or not, it’s great to expose kids to less cruel, healthier eating habits early. You’re adding a vegan menu at your mom-and-pop cafe? Kick ASS. When can I come by?

So when a good friend of ours and former New Yorker who now lives in Austin (yes, it is awesome that we mentioned Texas in three posts this week) suggested we all meet at a new japanese restaurant on the lower east side that featured menu items specifically marked as ‘vegan,’ we were 100% down. And we were not at all disappointed. The food was delectable, the atmosphere cute and cozy in a modern minimalist japanese way, and the staff was beyond welcoming of us as vegan guests. So needless to say, when we heard that they were starting up a weekend brunch, we immediately made plans for a return visit.

The endearing spot in question is Family Recipe, situated just below Houston on Eldridge. Now, if you’re a vegan, even in New York City, you know a decent brunch at a non-vegan place is one of the metaphorical holy grails of our culinary world. Sure, a vegetarian can just waltz into one of the gajillion brunch joints in New York and point at any number of cheesy and/or eggy dishes and sit back entirely satisfied, chatting with their pals. But for vegans, the options are significantly more limited, making us, sadly, the reclusive lost sons and daughters of the brunching hour. I know—tragic. Why? Why is the bloody mary pre-mixed with the Worcestershire sauce already?

But Family Recipe’s chef and owner, Akiko Thurnauer, has thought out her vegan options fully, making sure the dishes, rather than suffering from lack of animal ingredients, are flourishing in their combination of flavors. From the sesame burdock root + carrot rice bowl—served in a small, hot cast iron cauldron—to her spicy tofu buns, the cuisine’s both unmistakably asian-inspired and fresh, modern, and uniquely conjured up. Her brunch offerings are no different.

The rice bowl pulls double-duty, making an appearance on both the dinner and brunch menus, which we took advantage of right away, remembering how much we liked it last time. And Thurnauer’s organic tofu scramble is wholly unique, combining fresh scallions and truly tasty hijiki seaweed strips with a distinct blend of spices, making it the first and only japanese-inspired scramble we’ve ever had. On top of that, she’s come up with a great gluten-free waffle that’s made from brown rice flour, coconut flour, and, by the taste of it, magical pixie dust (which is vegan, by the way). The waffle is crisp, light, and totally mind-blowing, especially for someone who rarely gets a chance to partake of such breakfast fare outside of their own home. These two highlights are then rounded out by seasonal fruit, brown rice crisps, and a kale salad that can easily be made vegan.

On top of the restaurant’s culinary feats, we’re also big fans of the fact that Family Recipe’s obviously got some solid design in place, both in terms of interior ambiance and overall branding, as you can see with their business cards (above), which are printed on thin panels of wood. The logo is the crest of the family of Thurnauer’s father, who first inspired Akiko’s love of food. From the restaurant’s site:

“Akiko’s culinary experience started at an early age. When Akiko was a kid her father traveled all over the world for business and brought back many unique ingredients from Asia, Europe, and the Middle East. He took her to fine dining restaurants and street food fairs. Family Recipe is dedicated to the culinary legacy of her father, who passed away 10 years ago.”

Which is what it comes down to, in our humble opinion—good restaurants and the people who run them care about what they’re doing. The more that start caring about how they do it—how what they create impacts both the animals they use and the guests they serve—the closer we all get to that ideal of a compassionate world. Though Family Recipe serves animal products, they’re also serving a growing community of consumers who care more and more about the impact their choices make, vegans included. The more we support that kind of thing, the better. So check them out next time you’re in the lower east side or just jonesin’ for a nice vegan waffle and some friendly company. Who knows, maybe they’ll expand the vegan offerings ever more. We’ll certainly be first in line if they do.

Below, the glorious gluten-free brown rice waffle, organic tofu scramble, the vegan rice bowl, and the store front window.

Reader, if you’re anything like us, you’ve been virtually on the edge of your seat for the last four years, waiting with breath abated to see what this extra day—this Leap Day, as they call it—holds in store for you. Turns out, all we’ve been missing the last 3,670 days was grey skies and a dreary, wintry mix. We shake our fist at thee, Leap Day! Shake our FIST!!! (picture us making that upset turtle face the dude from “New Girl” makes and shaking our collective fist at the sky)

Always the ones to find the silver lining, though, we’ll take this opportunity to tell you about a favorite grey-day, winter-weather warming food—SOBA NOODLES! More specifically, we’d like to tell you about a new soba shop on the lower east side that we absolutely LOVE—Cocoron.

Situated on Delancey between Allen + Eldridge, this tiny noodle shop embodies everything kawaii—for the record, that’s ‘kawaii‘ being the japanese concept of tiny, cute things, not Kawaii, being the still tiny, still cute island in Hawaii. Back on course though, the shop is remarkably small—it was packed when we were last there and had only a few table tops and then a string of people eating at the bar—but its diminutive nature is matched evenly by it’s cozy atmosphere, japanese-tea-house-like decor, and ultra-nice wait staff.

From Cocoron’s site—“Through soba, I want people to discover that being healthy isn’t an alternative to taste,” (shop-woner, Yoshihito) Kida states firmly. “In the US, the concept of health is almost like a choice or a sacrifice you have to make, but in Japan, health and taste somehow co-exist together, and I want to deliver that through my store.” The store decor is “casual and friendly, with custom made stools and tables to recreate an atmosphere true to the concept of cocoron,” comments art dir. Takeori Motohashi. “We wanted to incorporate our taste and flavor, not just through our food but through this place as a whole.”

And of course we wouldn’t be writing about the place if they didn’t have a significant vegetarian/vegan area of the menu, which they do. We partook of the Vege Tororo Wakame Soba (pictured in the bowl below), which was a brothy, warm soup filled with buckwheat soba, japanese yam, and wakame seaweed; an assortment of exciting vegetarian appetizers; and the Vege Yuba Dip Soba, which was exciting—dipping soba noodles, greens, and tofu skins into a hot vegetable broth and soy milk mixture—but a little less satisfying than their straight up soba noodle dishes.

The menu online gives you a glimpse of what they have to offer at Cocoron—which appropriately means, “heartwarming” in japanese—but they’ve got a more extensive explanatory menu int he shop, complete with culturally appropriate, crazy soba-centric characters that help you along, like Yamji San up there or Master Seiro, the wise…bamboo steaming basket.

So next time you find yourself wandering around the lower east side in search of a dry, cozy escape from the harsh elements of New York and in need of release from the harrowing pangs of hunger, step into the world of kawaii at Cocoron. Hurry up though—it’ll probably be 80° out tomorrow given the bizarro winter so far.

Reader, if you know me, either on a personal basis or through an in-depth, detailed analysis of this thing they call a blog, you know that I am not originally of this northern locale. In fact, I grew up in sundry regions of southern Virginia, where most food was fried, vegetables weren’t done cooking until colorless and/or translucent, and mayonnaise and bread were used in a solid one-to-one ratio in almost every case. So it makes sense that I have some base culinary cravings that may seem a tad out-of-place with a long-time vegan.

One such craving—NAY—the PRIMARY such craving, I’d have to say, is and has for some time been barbecue pulled pork sandwiches. I obviously abhor meat of any kind, but meat from pigs—known to be highly intelligent, social animals who are largely confined to a life of utter horror in our factory farming system—is especially offensive to me. Nonetheless, I won’t deny an inalienable fondness for the memory of the taste of pulled pork. So what’s a vegan to do? Sure, there are plenty of soy-based meat alternatives (hello, May Wah) and I can make a mean homemade seitan, but we’ve really been trying to cut down on the overly processed fake meats and gluten of late. Not to mention the texture’s way off on both counts.

Enter the jackfruit. What the hell’s a jackfruit, you ask? Fair enough, I say. You know how you’ll be walking down the aisles of your local asian supermarket and you’ll pass all those sincerely bizarre-looking canned products that are purported to be vegetarian but look entirely creepy? Yeah, it’s one of those things. More precisely, the jackfruit is an extremely large, tropical tree-born fruit that grows widely in the Indian subcontinent and the Indochina peninsula. And, evidently, when you stick it in a can, it can make for an awesome, awesome meat substitute, especially for dishes that would traditionally include pork. I present to you then, Reader, a recipe for Vegan Barbecue Pulled Jack—pictured above—which I must implore you try at your earliest convenience. We made a big batch for the Super Bowl party we went to weekend before last and have to say, it went over very well with vegetarians and terrible, soul-less, amoral meat-eaters alike. We jest, obviously, but added bonus—we’re posting our homemade barbecue sauce recipe, which we have to admit, is also awesome. Awesomeness, we do not jest about, Reader—not now, not ever.

Smokey Blackstrap Barbecue Sauce
• 1 large Vidalia Onion (or other sweet onion, like Maya Gold), chopped
• 1 large fresh mild pepper (depending on propensity for heat, Poblano—which we usually use—Ortego Chile, or, if you’re anti-heat, a Bell Pepper)
• 8-10 Chipotle Peppers from the can (Goya makes these, as do a number of other companies, and they can be found canned in adobo sauce in most grocery stores’ latin foods section)
• 8 medium Garlic Cloves, smashed and coarsely chopped
• 2.5 – 3 6 oz. cans of Tomato Paste (get a nice traditional Italian brand or an organic one)
• 1/3 cup Blackstrap Molasses
• 1/2 cup Apple Cider Vinegar
• 1/2 cup Balsamic Vinegar
• 1/2 cup Bourbon or Rye Whiskey
• 1/4 cup Extra Virgin Olive Oil
• 1 tbsp Hickory Smoke Flavor/Liquid Smoke
• 1.5 cups of Water
• 1 tbsp Coriander (ideally freshly roasted and ground, but store-bought, pre-ground is totally fine)
• 1 tbsp Unsweetened Cocoa Powder (we like Droste)
• 1 tbsp Brown Sugar
• 1/2 tsp Clove (again, ideally freshly ground)
• 1 tsp Nutmeg (freshly-grated, if possible)
• 1 tsp Cinnamon (freshly grated, is possible)
• Salt, to taste

Pulled Jackfruit
• Young Green Jackfruit in Brine, canned (roughly 1 can per 3 large sandwiches)
• 2 Shallots per can of Jackfruit, peeled, halved, and sliced into thin semi-circles
• 2 tbsp Extra Virgin Olive Oil
• 1 tbsp Hickory Smoke Flavor/Liquid Smoke

So, obviously, you can use store-bought sauce or your own recipe, but we really do like this one, and, if you’ve never made barbecue sauce before, it’s pretty easy, pretty fun, and the yield’s pretty generous. Plus it’ll impress your friends. So if you’re making the sauce, proceed directly below. Otherwise, skip down to the jackfruit directions.First off, heat the oil in a pan on medium heat (as usual, we recommend a large, deep cast iron skillet). Once it’s warmed, add the onions, cook five minutes or so until a little translucent, and then add the garlic, cooking another five minutes and making sure the garlic doesn’t brown too much. Bring the heat to low and carefully add the smoke flavor, sugar, bourbon, molasses, vinegars, spices, and cocoa. Mix together gently and cook uncovered for 10 minutes, stirring a little as you go. Turn off the heat for the cast iron pan. Now cut the peppers into large chunks and add them along with the tomato paste, salt, and 1.5 cups of water or vegetable broth into a separate tall stockpot over medium-low heat. Then, carefully add the ingredients from the cast iron skillet to the stockpot. If you want, you can do all of this in one pot/pan or the other. We used to do everything in the cast iron, but we found that it made the sauce a little too dark and iron-rich, so we now do the first phase in iron and then transfer everything to a stainless steel pot. Either way, allow the ingredients to simmer for about 1.5 hours covered, stirring every now and then and adding more water/broth if it starts to look too thick or anything looks like it’s burning or drying out. Should be fine though. If it’s not, consider lowering the heat a bit. After an hour and a half or so, remove from heat and allow to cool for a half an hour or so, long enough that you’re not endangering your life if there’s any splash-back when you blend it. Then, puree everything in batches in your blender or, better yet, if you’ve got one, use an emersion blender in the pot.

On to the jack! So, first off, when you’re shopping for the jackfruit—which you’ll likely need to hit up your local asian market for—be sure you’re getting the young green jackfruit in brine. There’s also the mature jackfruit in syrup—you don’t want that. It’s sweet and…well, syrupy. Open the can or cans of jackfruit and drain with a colander over the sink. Now, by hand, crush up the jackfruit so that it starts to break into fibrous strands of meat. You’ll likely need to tear the tougher pieces near the fruit core or even cut then with a knife if you’re concerned about pieces being too large. You’ll also notice seeds in the meat as you do this. You can either use these—crushing them up as well—or toss ’em. Taste-wise, they’re pretty much the same, the textures just less fibrous. But if they gross you out, by all means, give ’em the boot. Once you’ve got everything broken down and looking good, rinse everything in the colander thoroughly in attempt to get rid of as much of the brine as possible and allow to dry a bit. Meanwhile, back in your cast iron skillet, add your olive oil and bring up a medium low heat, adding the sliced shallot and cooking for five minutes or so, allowing it to become fragrant and translucent and allowing the edges to brown but not blacken. Now, add your jackfruit, stirring to coat with oil and mix with the shallot. Cook uncovered for five or so minutes to brown the fruit and then stir and repeat two or three times for another ten to fifteen minutes to thoroughly brown edges of the fruit. Now add the smoke and cover, cooking for another five minutes covered. Uncover, stir, and add 1-2 cups of barbecue sauce per can of jackfruit used, depending on how dry or saucy you want the end result to be. Cook covered for about two hours, giving the fruit enough time to fully take on the flavors it’s being cooked with. Check it often to make sure there’s enough liquid. Add more sauce as needed and lower the heat if you’re having trouble keeping moisture in the skillet.

Once you’re done, give it a taste—it should taste pretty good at this point and, if you want, you could go ahead and use it. Ideally though, we’ve found that the jackfruit really does a superb job of fully absorbing the barbecue taste if you fridge the mixture overnight and then re-heat it stovetop again the next day right before use. As far as dressing it, we like these great vegan sandwich rolls from Balthazar Bakery (pictured above), but any lightly toasted vegan bun will do. And you’ve obviously gotta top this with some slaw. We don’t really have a recipe for the slaw we make, just thinly slice some cabbage, a little less carrot, maybe some red pepper, a little garlic and then mix in a large bowl with a mixture of Veganaise and apple cider or rice vinegar (we like a 1:1.5 ratio or so, but your call), a sprinkling of sugar, salt, pepper, and a decent amount of celery seeds (those are key). The slaw, too, by the by, is best when fridged overnight.

Beloved childhood memory restored.

We made the list!

Last week, Isa Moskowitz of the Post Punk Kitchen—who’s so famous, she’s got a Wikipedia page (WE want a Wikipedia page – *pouty kick at the ground*)—released her PPK 100, “100 ingredients, recipes, chefs, restaurant, tips, cookbooks, tools and websites” that made them swoon in 2011, one of the vegan-est years yet! As Isa puts it:

“I compiled the list by asking everyone from my mom to my favorite musicians what inspired them in 2011. I also posed the question on Twitter and Facebook (of course!) so that I could get as much feedback as possible. Since this is the Post Punk Kitchen 100, naturally there are a few items from Terry and I that made it on to the list, but I tried to make it as diverse as possible, giving shoutouts to the other people that made our 2011 a delicious year. I also tried to include things that everyone could afford to do right now today as well as a few items that you can add to your bucket list. For instance, I still don’t have a $400 blender but I can certainly swing an avocado masher. And hopefully there’s a tip or trick in here that will even save you money!”

We thought she’d just be putting together a few links when she first mentioned it to us. Foolish us! She went all out, with 100 separate entries from partially frozen olive oil to homemade candy bars to tips on peeling garlic, all super-well-written and in-depth. Holla!

When you get a chance, give it a read. And if you’re interested, we’re numbers 11 (the broth bag), 57 (hand pies), and 98 (solo supers). Now get eatin’ Reader!

Reader, if you, like us, are vegan and live and work in South Brooklyn, you, like us, likely hold a complicated mix of admiration + contempt for North Brooklyn, specifically the areas of Williamsburg and Greenpoint. These days, those neighborhoods are essentially spilling over with vegan cafés, pizza places with vegan slices, vegan doughnut joints, awesome Mexican street food with seitan and Daiya options, and outstanding Sicilian-style restaurants with beautiful interior design and separate, exceptional vegan menus.

And in South Brooklyn, we’ve got V-Spot.

Obviously exaggerating a bit for the sake of emphasis. We’ve got other options in the area—from mostly vegan pan-asian to awesome nearly raw cafés to a wealth of relatively veg-friendly non-veg restaurants. And not to dig too much specifically on V-Spot. But we need more, South Brooklyn. Nay, nay—we DESERVE more.

Turns out, Paris-based hotelier, restauranteur, and, evidently, comic-book-enthusiast  Cyril Aouizerate agrees. Roughly four weeks ago, he cut the ribbon on a brand new vegetarian (vegan, minus some honey) restaurant that we guarantee will blow you away. Maimonide of Brooklyn structures its menu around open-face sandwiches they call MOBs—flatbread made from locally sourced Champlain Valley whole grains, shaped into Brooklyn Bridge style arches (you read that right), and topped with creatively combined vegetables, legumes, and vegetarian spices and sauces.

On our visit last week—after walking into Maimonide’s beautiful Atlantic Avenue spot and being greeted by our the staff, dressed like comic-book-style monks—we were given complimentary baked kale chips and ordered the Iron Man MOB (roasted shiitake mushroom, sauteed kale, horseradish aioli, parsley) and the Belly Charmer (tagine of eggplant, zucchini, and carrot, moroccan spices, pistachio, mint, cilantro), both pictured below on a tray Aouizerate had made to call out and honor the neighborhoods of Brooklyn. And yes, they were both really, really good.

Other interesting-sounding MOBs include the Aphrodisiac (celery root braised and mashed with ras al hanout, asparagus, toasted almond), the Rock MOB (creamy white beans with fennel seed and almond milk, escarole, fresh pear, basil), and the Brave Heart (sun-dried tomato, caper and parsley pesto, rosemary grilled portobello mushroom, lemon). The menu also features some snazzy sounding salads, a really nice, creamy corn soup topped with popcorn (“in memory of the Native Americans who used to grow corn on boerum hill in Brooklyn”), and vegan chicken-style nuggets (they were out of those when we visited though).

The kinda-hard-to-remember, off-kilter name, Maimonide, owes its origins to the medieval philosopher, rabbi, advisor to Egyptian kings, and physician, Moses ben-Maimon—AKA, Maimonide—who, well ahead of his time, evidently advocated a vegetable-based diet. The comic book (yes, comic book) that Aouizerate had produced for the restaurant’s opening not only introduces us to the restaurant itself, but presents us with Maimonide’s updated personification—a pizza delivery guy who, after crashing into a melon stand, becomes a superhero with vegetable-based super powers, donning a tiny turban and some mad kicks. Obviously. New York Magazine’s got a partial scan of the thing if you’d like to see what we’re talking about.

Better yet, stop by and pick one up yourself. The food’s superb, the space is absolutely bizarrely beautiful—a hidden gem among the urban bustle of Atlantic Avenue—and the service is great. Our server—who was seemingly endowed with the super power of uncanny politeness—also mentioned that they’re hoping to soon use the cavernous space for live music and regular DJs soon, as well as bring in wine and beer in February.

Maimonide is located at 525 Atlantic Avenue, b/t 3rd + 4th Avenues, a quick walk from the Atlantic-Pacific subway station and well-worth the trip. They’re currently open seven days a week from noon to midnight. And give us a shout if you hit them up for lunch—we’re a mere two blocks away!

Below: The Iron Man + Belly Charmer on the custom-made Brooklyn serving tray; the Iron Man; yucca fries, kale chips, and corn soup; purdy lighting; detail of the American flag panel art; Homage to Lemon; and samples of Anti Oxidant dessert MOD with single-malt bourbon banana confit, chocolate fig marmalade, and fresh mint.