So when somebody recently suggested Thug Kitchen to me, I shouldn't have listened. I should've plugged up my ears, started whistling, and pretended I hadn't noticed. Except I did. And I went to Amazon. And I hit buy within sixty seconds of scanning the reviews.
It's a vegan cookbook, but I bought it anyway because my family and I are trying to get more vegetables in our lives in more interesting ways. It arrived while I was away, so I wasn't able to start trying any of the recipes until Tuesday. First on the docket was a simple quinoa oatmeal. I've been craving oatmeal lately, and I hadn't tried steelcut oats yet. It made the choice easy.
Verdict? Good. Easy. Try another recipe.
I picked out a recipe to fix for dinner last night that would require minimal shopping on my part. The winner was this roasted chickpea and broccoli burrito. It was a little heavier on the spices than I usually can tolerate, but I figured if it was too hot, I could just bury it in sour cream.
Turns out, I didn't need to, a fact I picked up on when I nicked a piece halfway through roasting:
Everybody devoured the burritos when they were done, even my thirteen year-old son. I am totally making these again.
We already picked out the next recipe to try, a mushroom and spinach lasagna. I have high expectations.
But what makes this cookbook so much fun isn't just the recipes. It's the tone. For those unfamiliar with Thug Kitchen, it's unpretentious and no holds barred, definitely R-rated for language. I sat and actually read the first twenty pages of the cookbook (before the recipes) and laughed/smiled through the whole thing. It's a refreshingly blunt way of looking at vegetarian/vegan cooking, bringing it back to the food rather than the holier than thou atmosphere that often permeates this type of cuisine.
How can you not love a cookbook that calls salads, "plant nachos?"