I have a distinct memory from childhood of one of my mom’s friends coming to visit our cramped apartment in Astoria, Queens. With 400 square feet shared between our then-family of four, our home was already diminutive. But this ahjumma and her clamorous personality made it feel twice as small. She spoke boisterously and barked her unfiltered opinions about everything. This was my second or third time meeting her, but I was immediately cowed by her largeness.
Moments after receiving my bashful customary bow and greeting, this auntie pulled me toward her and proceeded to pinch and poke the fleshy part of my arm, commenting on how copiously I must have been eating since we last met.
If you’re recoiling, I can imagine why. As an educator, I’d turn a harpoon on anyone who shattered my kids' sense of self that way. But it’s strange - I can’t bring myself to feel as murderous toward any of the aunties who tromped in and out of my childhood with ruthless commentary on my looks, size, or my eating habits. At the time, I simply accepted that any aspect of my appearance was fair game as conversational fodder for adults.
Before you start harping on my old aunties and uncles, I feel the need to let you know that most of them probably meant well. In the complex matrix of Korean love and affection, I've come to believe that being on the receiving end of those cutting opinions is like having an adult drop choice cuts of meat atop your bowl of rice. It's their way of saying, I'm telling you all this because I care.
In place of hugs and kisses, I was given an aided glimpse into my potential toward outer (read: slimmer) perfection.
Still not convinced? Neither am I. But isn't it funny how our brains can wrap harsh childhood memories with a fuzzy, forgiving blanket?
All that said, my tangled relationship with food as an adult was embroiled with all kinds of ideas - some silly and some serious - that found their provenance in childhood. It took me a long time to sift through them and Marie Kondo the thought tendrils that no longer served me well. Unfortunately, it wasn’t without significant years-long struggles with eating disorders and body dysmorphia.
Somewhere along my journey toward a healthier and more wholesome approach, I stumbled upon the doorstep of plant-based eating. To me, it felt like a dream. I could eat everything I wanted, as much as I wanted, and it would all be made from healthy, life-giving plants. Along the way, I met some vegans who performed magic with raw ingredients, thereby reconciling me with junk foods I never dreamed I'd eat without refrain.
Nisha Vora, creator of Rainbow Plant Life, is one of them. I'm convinced she divined this recipe from an otherworldly source. It's a dreamy dead ringer for the smooth rivulets of Velveeta-based stuff, but it's all made from cashews. Seriously. I regularly imagine meeting her someday and hugging her with all the irrespective-of-personal-space enthusiasm of a Korean auntie for sharing her culinary genius with the world.
Vegan Queso, from Rainbow Plant Life
(otherwise known as the cheese sauce we make once a week and eat almost daily)
I defy you to make this and tell me it doesn't taste like the most decadent cheese sauce you've made in a blender. I like to think that the fact that it's plant-based means I can consume it by the bucketload with nary an ounce of guilt.
Ingredients
1 cup raw cashews
1/2 cup plain, unsweetened nondairy yogurt (I like Forager's cashew yogurt)
1/2 cup salsa
2 TBSP water
1 tsp ground cumin
1/2 tsp chili powder
1/2 tsp smoked paprika
2 TBSP nutritional yeast
2 TBSP picked jalapeños + 2 TBSP pickling brine
Salt and pepper to taste
Instructions
Add the raw cashews to a small saucepan. Cover with water and boil for 10 minutes. They will look bloated and slightly larger. Drain.
Add the drained cashews to a high-powered blender. Add the rest of the ingredients.
Blend until thick, creamy, and smooth. Taste for seasonings.
Serve warm from the blender with anything that goes well with nacho cheese (tortilla chips, tacos, your finger...you get the idea). We tend to eat it with tortilla chips, but Nisha has an bomb recipe for a Vegan Crunchwrap Supreme where this queso just shines.
Comments