Raw Desserts – Satiety of the Sweet Tooth!
When most folks think of uncooked dessert, their coworker Pam and her moist-at-the-middle pound cake or cousin Bill’s infamous underdone brownies come to mind. But in the world of living foods, raw confections never hit temperatures above 118 degrees (for some, 110 degrees is the limit), yet still maintain the mouth-watering goodness of their cooked counterparts.
This past Saturday marked the culmination of
Cru restaurant’s 40 Days Raw series. For the finale, chef
Kristan Andrews treated the class to decadent desserts ranging from chocolate pudding and coconut lemon bars to fruity layer cake and date ice cream. Participants were clapping and happy dancing in chairs when the menu was announced. Not that the series’ offerings thus far hadn’t been delectable, but it was clear the creative nut-based edibles affirmed a basic human desire — even in raw and raw-friendly folks — satiety of the sweet tooth!
Since reconnecting with living foods six weeks ago, I’ve cut high fructose corn syrup and its ilk out of my diet. With the exception of naturally occurring sugar found in my breakfast of gala apples or grapefruit, none of the sweet stuff, a mainstay of the Standard American Diet, has passed my lips. Most raw desserts use honey, stevia or agave nectar as a sweetener. Agave, made from the sap of the Mexican Blue Agave (the plant that also produces tequila), is reported to be well tolerated by diabetics for its low glycemic load. One thing I’ve discovered with raw desserts, on those rare occasions that I treat myself (because I may or may not be battling candida, but have been too lazy or in denial to get tested) is that when I down some gooey goodness of the uncooked variety, I don’t get a high and then crash immediately afterwards as I did with processed cookies and candies.
After class, I decided to ride the tasty treat train to
Juliano’s in Santa Monica. Book in tow, I settled down at my table with a slice of chocolate cheesecake. Made with honey, cashew cream and cacao with a goji berry emulsion circling the plate, this scrumptious dessert seduces my sweet tooth like Tita de la Garza’s magical meals in
Like Water for Chocolate. As I make my rounds on the raw circuit, I’m pleased to note more people of color embracing the living foods movement. I was happy to see several brown faces partaking of plant-based sushi and lasagna amidst the hanging ferns and Zen-inspired environment that is Juliano’s.
To complete my weekend of indulgence, I returned to Cru on Sunday night for a slice of chocolate truffle cake. I don’t recommend sugar sprees, even of the raw variety, but since I had successfully maintained a 100 percent living foods diet for the past six weeks, was feeling good about my health, weight loss, renewed energy and mental clarity, a celebration was in order. Dessert can factor into a fit lifestyle, but balance is key.
As I sat at a candle-lit table reading a book for grad school and nibbling on forkfuls of rich almond-based cacao-coated lusciousness, I struck up a convo with the folks at a neighboring table. Though not raw foodists, as they explained, the chocolate mint cake and chocolate brownie a la mode that sat before them had my fellow diners reconsidering the uncooked vegan lifestyle.
Can dessert really be decadent yet good for you? I think that question was answered quite sweetly on my weekend raw carnival of culinary delight.
When most folks think of raw potluck, if they ever deign to do so, alfalfa sprouts and baby carrots usually come to mind. Derived from the Chinook Indian term potlatch, which means “gift,” the early tribal gatherings commemorated marriages, births, namings or the designation of heirs. Most of all, the ceremonies were held to redistribute wealth in the village.
I was recently invited to my first uncooked potluck. As a vegan who has attended her share of eat-and-greets, our offerings are usually nibbled on or passed over altogether in favor of “heartier” fare. But at this fête, raw food ruled! I was excited about the idea of mingling with my peeps — vegans and non-vegans alike who were transitioning into a lifestyle consisting largely of living cuisine.
When I arrived at the beautiful home of our gracious hostess Maeve, I encountered a smorgasbord of colors and textures that would put Hometown Buffet to shame: tahini and shoyu rubbed kale chips, beet salad with pine nuts, pad thai, horchata made with almond milk, cayenne and lemon spiced jicama cubes, marinated button mushrooms with brazil nut parmesan, Caesar salad with cashew dressing, Tom Ka Gai soup, rose geranium ice cream, kiwi pie, plus a host of other unheated masterpieces.
It’s not that I wasn’t hip to the variety and richness of raw vegan creations. But more than my delight in viewing the mountain of food before me was a sense of community and kinship that I rarely experience in L.A. This was my tribe. A safe haven for owners of Vitamix blenders, nut milk bags, mandolins and dehydrators. A gathering of connoisseurs who can tell you the organic shops that sell dulse and kelp noodles or the ethnic markets where you can buy young Thai coconuts in bulk. We all spoke the same language, one that bordered on the sacred.
It seems anticlimactic to note that the food was delicious, but it was. I had no shame in piling my plate high with third and fourth helpings. Had I been sitting in a booth after downing multiple servings of Standard American Diet fare at a garden-variety buffet, I would have been discreetly unbuttoning my pants to let my swollen belly breathe, or looking for the nearest bed to catch some ZZZs. But even after two hours of grazing on raw delicacies, I wasn’t exhausted, was in fact, strolling through Maeve’s house, nibbling on chocolate coconut balls and chatting with my fellow foodies. Most of us had completed the 40 Days Raw series offered by Cru. Two of the restaurant's chefs, Rachel Carr and Kristan Andrews, teacher of the classes, were in the house to witness the culmination of their culinary tutelage.
As the mango ice cream melted in a bowl on the kitchen island, and the raw revelers retrieved purses and jackets, I decided it was time to reluctantly bid my hostess adieu. In the tradition of the original potlatch, the evening’s gathering was akin to a redistribution of wealth, a ceremony celebrating the epicurean contributions of the tribe. The potluck was a success, “a gift” for everyone’s senses and spirit.
Detroit. Home of Motown, the auto industry, an infamous sexting mayor … and the world’s largest urban farm? If John Hantz has his way, it could be. The Southfield financier recently unveiled plans to transform acres of vacant land and blighted property into a vast model for urban agriculture.
It’s no mean feat to tune out a rowdy bunch sitting right next to you, even if you’re engrossed in a book. I wanted to hit the door and head for quieter pastures. But about that time, my server arrived with a plate of dream rolls. Made with kim chee, spicy Portobello mushrooms, avocado, jicama rice, wakame seaweed and wrapped in a collard leaf, this piquant dish was the perfect accompaniment to decolonization theory and violent revolution.
Although the party of twelve squashed my bliss, I’m glad that more folks are growing hip to the raw foods movement. One bald-headed white diner even peeped the cover of my book, Black Skin, White Masks and gave me the black power salute.
My final dish was a plate of herbed cashew cheese and fig pate, served with a side of flax seed crackers and strawberries, and drizzled with an agave nectar glacé. It’s a wonderful feeling to enjoy a three-course meal and not leave the restaurant feeling like it’s time to catch some serious ZZZs. I had energy to spare as I headed home, and I burned the midnight oil working on a new short story for grad school. The wonders of living foods.
This ain't your grandma's Olive Garden. This scrumptious raw dish is squash spaghetti with nut meatballs and a side salad with tomatillo dressing. I took this picture last summer during a one-week stay at 
During the same week at OHI, after a two-and-a-half day juice fast, we were treated to raw pizza. Don't ask what the crust is made of. Dehydrated nuts? Sprouted buckwheat? Whatever the ingredients, the slice I inhaled was delizioso! I went back for seconds.
