I was so sure I was doing a good job of these goddamned crab cakes.
I mean, they started from a point of virtuosity, which was letting V choose the first recipe for our Cook it Wrong reboot. I am deeply, fundamentally, biologically opposed to vegan fish. WHY YOU ASK? I don’t know, why is there being instead of nothingness, leave me alone I have a headache.
Anyway, I hate vegan fish but I love artichokes and I love sriracha and Vegan Yack Attack’s Artichoke Crab Cakes with Sriracha Tartar Sauce have both those things in spades. I did SUCH A GOOD JOB of following this recipe. It took like ten minutes to find Old Bay Seasoning in my local grocery store, and I guess oyster crackers don’t even exist in Alberta because we’re too far from the sea or something, and vegan mayonnaise is super expensive and now I own most of a jar of it, but I was so sure that this was one of those recipes where doing it right was the rightest thing to do.
You know what? They were fine.
As V pointed out, the structural integrity leaves something to be desired. Also sriracha and vegan mayo together make a super tasty dressing and I put it on my baked potatoes (I baked some potatoes, I never bake potatoes, they take 4000 years in the oven and nobody has that time). Also also the leftover corn and red pepper and green onions were very tasty in a salad. But the crab cakes?
Only okay. They aged acceptably which is helpful cuz single ladies love leftovers, but labour + ingredient cost > deliciousness. (MATH.) Plus the artichoke texture kind of creeped me out. I kept thinking how much better those artichokes would be sautéed with some black olives and cherry tomatoes and served over angel hair pasta.
So here’s the thing. It’s really hard for me to prioritize making myself good food when I feel like there are a thousand other things I ought to be doing like writing and grading and reading and petting my kitty and stuff, and when I put a lot of time and effort into something and it doesn’t wow me I end up feeling PERSONALLY BETRAYED. As a result I tend to make the same few things over and over again. There are a lot of salads. There are a lot of quinoa bowls. There are a lot of things that I can’t fuck up.
Last week, for example, I made myself a quinoa bowl with smoked tofu and avocado and green peas, and portobellos and asparagus that I sautéed with liberal splashes of balsamic vinegar, and I poured a ton of tahini-miso-nutritional-yeast sauce over the whole thing and it was incredible. So I guess what I’m saying is that I get to choose the next recipe.