Vegetarian Peanut Stew: Local Veggies with a West African Twist

For those not schooled in the joys of turning ho-hum local vegetables into delicious masterpieces, a stew for which the main ingredients are cabbage and squash might sound anything but adventurous. But a few exotic flavours can make a huge difference! I used the last of my delicious local organic vegetables to produce this West African delight based on a recipe from my very favourite cookbook: Simply in Season, by Mary Beth Lind and Cathleen Hockman-Wert. The tomatoes, cabbage, squash, garlic, and onions were all locally grown.

This is a rich, almost meaty vegetarian stew. I find that the cilantro and red pepper add some important flavours, and I’d recommend the crushed peanuts—they provide a delicious crunchy texture. I love this recipe so much that I double it so that I have some in the freezer for later. 

The only downside is that you wouldn’t want to serve this stew to your calorie-counting friends, or those who have nut allergies. 

Ingredients:

2 tbsp peanut oil

1 chopped onion

2-3 cloves of minced garlic

2-3 cups of chopped cabbage

3 cups of squash, cubed (you can also substitute sweet potato here)

fresh or dried hot red pepper, to taste

1 tsp of grated ginger root

1 cup of liquid (apple juice, tomato juice, broth or water)

1 apple, chopped (optional)

3 cups of tomatoes, chopped

1/2 cup of peanut butter

Toppings:

ground or crushed peanuts

fresh cilantro

fresh green onions

Fry onion and garlic in oil until soft. Add cabbage, squash, ginger, pepper and liquid. Simmer until squash is softened. Add apples, tomatoes, and peanut butter; heat through. Keep warm until ready to serve. Serve with toppings optional. 

* A note on heat: I have read that West African dishes are notoriously spicy. So if you want to be authentic, spice it up! If you don't have a spicy tooth, don't worry. This dish is still delicious when only mildly spiced.

A Gift, A Celebration

There is something in the way the wind catches the leaves—something about how the sun falls on the tall yellow grasses and they glow, almost as if the energy of the sun is captured momentarily and turned back toward the world, rippling in the breeze like liquid gold. It is a gift, and it is not for me alone.

Forgive me while I wax poetic, but every once in a while, I have a moment in the outdoors that reminds me of all it is that I have come to know (or at least think I know). On a recent October morning, having taken the day off, I put on my jacket and enjoyed my hot breakfast out in the autumn sunshine. Sitting there, sipping my coffee, something struck me. I think it was the beauty that is always occuring in the right now. So I struck out, to walk around the field that is my back yard. Up until that point, I had been unsure whether or not we would regret the decision to move into a country home. But that morning I remembered why I was there. It’s been so long since the sun has touched me like that. Somewhere deep inside of me, something was stirring. I’m waking up.

We moved here for various reasons, a big one for me being that we would finally be able to grow a large garden and live off of the fruits of our labour. I’m a farmer. It’s in my blood. And this summer, as a member of a local CSA, I was reminded of how pleasurable it is to be nourished by, and connected to, the earth under my feet. I had forgotten, in the 7 years since I left the farm, how much that meant to me. I haven’t lived in a place where I could be alone in the wind and the sun for a long time. I feel as if I have come home again.

To date, this blog has been about cooking. But I think it will go deeper than that. For me, cooking is a celebration of the earth and the nourishment that it provides. I think that is what this blog will come to be—a way to share that celebration with you.