I made a batch of falafels with tzatziki sauce last Saturday by following this recipe from Dillon on Youtube. It turned out alright, though I think it would have been better if I had followed the recipe exactly. For example, I tripled the amount of onions which added lots of moisture to the batter. I was hoping to fix this by adding lots more chickpea flour. In the end, my falafels ended up tasting like bread, which isn’t really a bad thing, but next time, since I actually do want to eat falafels and not bread, I’m going to follow the recipe to the T. With these mis-steps here and there, I’m slowly learning how to cook. Yay.
Following Dillon’s lead, I stuffed two falafels into a pita pocket with greens. Green for the day: arugala, baby bok choy, steamed portobello mushrooms, onions, parsley, and figs, with copious amounts of tzatziki sauce and nutritional yeast. I also had a plate of soy curlz on the side (gotta eat my estrogen).
Following Dillon’s lead, I stuffed two falafels into a pita pocket with greens. Green for the day: arugala, baby bok choy, steamed portobello mushrooms, onions, parsley, and figs, with copious amounts of tzatziki sauce and nutritional yeast. I also had a plate of soy curlz on the side (gotta eat my estrogen).
BUBBA LOVE. This is the third recipe I’ve tried since Doug passed away. As fun as it is to experiment with new dishes, it feels strange. Sometimes, as I’m eating, I notice that although I’m enjoying the process of eating (taste, textures, hunger fulfilment, etc.), I feel something amiss and it dawns on me that what’s missing is Doug himself. I miss seeing him sit across the table from me, eating our food as we discuss the answer to the question: If you ordered this dish at a restaurant, is this something you would order again? I internally have these conversations with myself, I suppose, but it’s just not the same.