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screaming stew
Carrot Juice is Murder (also known as "Screams of the Vegetables") by the Arrogant Worms seemed to be just the thing. Excerpt:
I've heard the screams of the vegetables (scream scream scream)
Watching their skins being peeled (having their insides revealed)
Grated and steamed with no mercy (burning off calories)
How do you think that feels (bet it hurts really bad)
Carrot juice constitutes murder (and that's a real crime)
Greenhouses prisons for slaves (let my vegetables grow)
It's time to stop all this gardening (it's dirty as hell)
Let's call a spade a spade (it's a spade it's a spade it's a spade)
The following is a chronicle, not a recipe. :-)
large crock pot
3 carrots
2 parsnips
4 small red-skinned potatoes
3 turnips
3 leeks
2 small stalks celery
1 bulb of garlic (whole cloves) [1]
46-oz bottle V8
Render all the veggies into small chunks/slices. Put all ingredients into the crock pot on high. Apply salt and pepper generously, and a little cumin just because. Leave for dinner and S'lichot services.
Come back four hours later. Inspect pot. Decide that was too much liquid, so add a quarter-bag of dry lentils to soak up some of it. Also add several handfuls of fresh green beans, broken into small pieces. Set heat to low and put on a timer so it'll come on early in the morning. (Pot-luck is at 2.)
About 8:00AM: crock pot turns on (time very fuzzy). You won't catch me up at that hour on a Sunday just to babysit food!
11:00AM, add:
2 diced tomatoes
about 1C broccoli florets
about 1C cauliflower florets
several big handfuls shredded cabbage (maybe 3C?)
more black pepper
some garlic powder, 'cause I'm just not getting my
garlic experience here
generous portion of crushed red pepper [2]
Plan: garnish with sprouts. Reality: sprouts bought on Tuesday were thoroughly wilted on Sunday. Oh well. Maybe I'll garnish with sliced scallions.
I wasn't able to work radishes into it, but I got everything else. And it tastes good so far.
Footnotes:
[1] Garlic's not mentioned in the song (neither are leeks or parsnips, for that matter, but I had them and they're good in stew), but everything is better with garlic, and I tend to treat it like a vegetable rather than like a seasoning.
[2] How did they miss crushed pepper? It seemed an obvious addition.
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How can you do it? It's heartless, it's cruel.
It's murder, cold-blooded, and gross.
To slay a poor vegetable just for your stew,
Or to serve with some cheese sauce on toast.
Have you no decency? Have you no shame?
Have you no conscience, you cad?
To rip that poor vegetable out of the earth,
Away from its poor mom and dad?
[Cho:]
Oh, no, don't slay that potato!
Let us be merciful, please.
Don't boil it or fry it, don't even freeze-dry it.
Don't slice it or flake it.
For God's sake, don't bake it!
Don't shed the poor blood,
Of this poor helpless spud.
That's the worst kind of thing you could do.
Oh, no, don't slay that potato,
What never done nothing to you!
Why not try picking on something your size,
Instead of some carrot or bean?
The peas are all trembling there in their pod,
Just because you're so vicious and mean.
How would you like to be grabbed by your hair,
And ruthlessly yanked from your bed,
And have done to you God knows what horrible things,
To be eaten with full-fiber bread?
[Cho:]
It's no bed of roses, this vegetable life.
You're basically stuck in the mud.
You don't get around much. You don't see the sights,
When you're a carrot or celery or spud.
You're helpless when somebody's flea-bitten dog,
Takes a notion to pause for relief.
Then somebody picks you and cleans you and eats you,
And causes you nothing but grief.
[Cho:]
There ought to be some way of saving our skins.
They ought to be passing a law.
Just show anybody a cute little lamb,
And they'll all stand around and go "Aw!"
Well, potatoes are ugly. Potatoes are plain.
We're wrinkled and lumpy to boot.
But give me a break, kid. Do you mean to say,
That you'll eat us because we're not cute?
[Cho:]
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They're red, they're white, they're brown
They get that way underground
There can't be much to do
So now they have blue ones too
We don't care what they look like we'll eat them
Any way they can fit on our plate
Every way we can conjure to heat them
We're delighted and think they're just great
(Chorus)
PO ta to po ta to po ta to po
ta to po ta to po ta to po ta
to po ta to po ta to po ta to
po ta to po ta to po ta to
Sometimes we ditch the skin
To eat what it's holding in
Sometimes we'd rather please
Have just the outside with cheese
They have eyes but they do not have faces
I don't know if their feelings get hurt
By just hanging around in dark places
Where that only can stare at the dirt
(Repeat Chorus)
I guess the use is scant
For other parts of the plant
But that which grows in view
Is eating potato too
I imagine them under their acres
Out in Idaho and up in Maine
Maybe wondering if they'll be bakers
Or knishes or latkes or plain
(Repeat Chorus)
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"Beware of the sentient chili, as it boils away on your stoves.
The peppers are silently plotting with legumes, tomatoes and cloves."
etc.
-- Dagonell
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Some vegetables would probably dry ok for long-term use. There are some ethnic instruments that are made out of dried-out gourds, for example. I wonder if they would consider that to be cheating.
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I'm guessing the carrot was bored down the center to make a wind instrument.
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