Vadai-tastic

Every time I stumble on a vegan-tastic tasting food, I’m bursting to share it with whomever is willing to listen. You can imagine that it would just be me, the hubs and the layer of dust on my floor. It’s true; and I think that is partly because the term “vegan” appears to be synonymous with healthy, bland and “where’s the cheese?”

You’ll not find many vegetarian recipes that do not include cheese, butter or eggs to liven them up. That innocuous cheese hiding in the vegetables means it brings the yummy rating scale from a ‘meh-4’ to a very high 8 or 9 and even a perfect 10. Vegetarians have better luck than their stricter vegan friends. Being able to eat dairy products means heartily enjoying a vegetable lasagna (never-mind if it is 4-cheese laden between thin layers of eggplant) and still able to feel smug and righteous when you spy that carnivorous glut shoveling the mince meat laden ones. Plus, unlike vegans, vegetarians can always wash down the healthy meal of vegetables (and copious amount of cheese) by binge eating a decadent cheesecake (more cheese) or the innocent pound cake (more like a pound of butter) drizzled with strawberry compote, enjoyed with their non-vegetarian friends.

But try looking at a list of vegan foods that trigger the salivary glands and it makes the Amish telephone book appear to be bursting at the spine. Pasta sauces are always made from tomatoes and never the creamy luxuriant carbonara sauce. What about vegetable gratin? It is tasty no doubt but add the cream and cheese layer and it immediately pushes all the right buttons. As for vegan desserts, I’m already hearing the sad violins in the background when I think of the chocolate cake made with vinegar in place of eggs (yes, I have also made this strange cake and one made with tofu too) or boring stewed apples, pears or plums in some sort of glossy sauce made artistic by sticking a mint leaf in just to jazz things up. They are nice but it isn’t going to set off spontaneous drooling the way it does when you mention chocolate gateau with molten ganache. You get my idea.

Whatever the case, I can now name one wickedly yummy vegan snack that hits the perfect 10 – without needing cheese nor egg to lend support. The simple and nutritious vadai made from lentils is bursting with protein and fiber never mind if it is fried which makes it a little less wholesome. But what the heck, fried and oil are to vegans like cheese and eggs are to vegetarians. These spiced fried Indian donuts -- that I’ve loved back in Singapore -- are wickedly tasty and when combined with chopped greens like the often overlooked cabbage and pungent coriander, make a darn tasty guilt-free snack or light lunch. If someone had said vadais are vegan, I would never believe them because they are much too delicious to be tied to my impression of vegan food.

My favourite Southern Indian cookbook said to soak 1 cup of urad dal (black gram lentils) for 2 hours after which I pureed them with 4 green chillies, salt and a splash of asafoetida. I then mixed in chopped onions, cabbage and coriander into the pureed lentils, adding a little water as needed. I would have taken some pictures but the paste wasn’t particularly photogenic. Then, the hardest part of the whole preparation was trying to shape the gluggy mess into donuts rendering my hands too sticky to bother with messing with my camera. Trying to get the shaped dough (or misshapen in my case) into the hot oil was tricky; the dal mixture inevitably clung onto my palm and fingers with fierce tenacity. They needed a good shove into my wok, but as they sank and bubbled in the oil, their texture stiffened and held shape.

Next, I served it up to Monique -- my pickiest food critic – who instinctively turned her nose up at it but her suspicious expression gave way to pleasant surprise after one small bite. And when my back was turned, she returned to the dish and stuffed another into her mouth saying, “hmmmm… this is so yummy, Mummy!” giving the green light to the others who proceeded to descend on the vadais.

Vegan/vegetarian/all meat-loving rating: a perfect 10.