The new holiday roast
I love a good roast as the centerpiece of a holiday dinner table. But as a new plant-based eater, I knew I’d have to steer away from the traditional turkey and beef and opt for a roast that would provide all the satisfaction of a holiday centerpiece, with none of the meat. (Photo source: Du Wei)
When my sister first became a vegetarian, holiday meals became more complicated. My mother responded by dutifully cooking up a slab of tofurkey for our first big dinner together. But it didn’t go so well. While the rest of us were deciding between white meat and dark meat, my sister was quietly pushing around on her plate a few pallid slices of turkey substitute.
This scenario is all too common. On holiday tables across the country, dishes contain copious amounts of butter, cheese, cream, bacon, and other animal products—seemingly the more the better. The crowning centerpiece is almost always a giant, glistening, slow-roasted piece of meat, be it turkey, ham, beef, or some other unfortunate animal.
The holidays are, by nature, an inclusive season, a time to take joy in the company of loved ones and graciously share amazing meals together—unless, it seems, you’re a vegan or vegetarian.
This year, I’m entering my first holiday season as a plant-based eater, and I am not going to be stuck eating some sad, pale, afterthought of a faux-meat product. I’m still an eater. So, I have to ask myself: How can I participate in the indulgence, the grandeur, the joy of a splendid holiday feast—without the animal products? I think it starts with the right table centerpiece—a dish commanding enough to capture the hearts of my vegetarian sister and the rest of my family, all omnivores, and delicious enough to fill our bellies.
To fill that space on the table, I pondered what it is about roast meat we find so enticing. Is it the savory aromas that emanate from the oven and waft through the house? Is it the grandiosity and splendor of a golden-brown piece of meat? The way it’s elegantly presented whole, and then gracefully carved in front of you—creating dinner and a show? Maybe the gravy, which is for many the best part—the succulent sauce made by catching the juices from the roast in a pan and repurposing them into a smooth, voluptuous blanket of flavor.
The author’s cat was part of the audience when he unveiled his new roast.
Is it possible to emulate these qualities, and leave out the meat? Yes it is. My foray into plant-based eating may be recent, but I’ve already discovered that none of the things we adore so much about roasts are contingent upon actually having meat. Vegetables can also be made to slowly perfume the kitchen with mouth-watering fragrances as they cook. They can be beautifully presented—whole and carved. And they can release more than enough rich and tasty juices to make a satisfying and luxurious gravy.
In thinking about which vegetable would play the starring role this year, I considered winter squashes, which are dense and filling, celeriac, which has an earthy, heavy flesh, cabbage, which can be braised and stuffed, and mushrooms, which are meaty and savory. But ultimately, I settled on the cauliflower. It has a plump, carveable shape, mass crowd appeal (in my family, anyway), and its neutral taste makes it versatile enough to soak up all the traditional flavors of the holidays.
To create the roast, I took a whole head of cauliflower and slathered it with a sweet and sharp rub of Dijon mustard and maple syrup that would slowly caramelize into a deep golden brown while releasing the sumptuous scent of toasted maple sugars. Next, I nestled the cauliflower on top of a bed of carrots, celery, and onions then added a generous pour of apple cider to reduce and steam into the roast.
After slowly roasting it for about an hour, I removed the cauliflower from the pan and set about making the all-important pan gravy. Using the syrupy reduced apple cider as a base, I added vegetable stock and flour and let it all simmer into a bold, dark-brown gravy.
This simple yet elegant whole roasted cauliflower, rubbed with maple and Dijon, takes the place of the traditional meat roast this holiday season. See recipe.
As I sliced into the steaming head of roasted cauliflower on a recent test run, for the benefit of my audience of two—my girlfriend and our curious cat—it felt pretty close to carving a turkey or roast beef. My girlfriend and I devoured that roasted cauliflower along with the vegetables from the pan and a ladle-full of silky veggie gravy.
I’m sold. This roast cauliflower has all the glitz and glamour of roast meat. And, even though it left me plenty full, I felt lighter afterwards than I do after eating a big piece of meat. I’m thinking this holiday season might just be the year when nobody needs to take a nap after dinner.
Jared Kent is a Stone Pier Press News Fellow and a professional chef aspiring to be a good food activist.