
Ian and I are a food-centric couple. A morning off mostly means french toast, the end of a long run means we’re that much closer to brunch and birthdays and anniversaries are just excuses to splurge on lamb chops.
(Incidentally, my birthday was March 4th and lamb chops were the last indulgence in a day of indulgences. But, that’s not what this blog is going to be about. I’m in charge here, so we’re going to talk about Ian.)
If you’d have told me I’d be whipping up homemade anything a decade ago I wouldn’t have been able to hear you over the crunching of Doritos. Though cooking is new to me, my love affair with eating food has been long and unwavering. Ian’s dietary history, however, makes for a more interesting story.
Ian’s a pragmatic fellow. He gets it from his father. Their similarities are immediately apparent, but it’s only since moving here to his father’s city that I’ve realized the extent to which Ian’s eccentricities are hereditary. Take, for instance, their shared fondness for pureed lunches.
When Ian’s father, Ted, was our age he made smoothies for most meals. Not the gussied-up strawberry banana yogurt protein powder concoctions, though. He would make his smoothies with whatever was in the pantry. Peanut butter, liver, tuna, celery, all blended and consumed. I can’t for the life of me figure out his motivation for making such a smoothie. Convenience? Health? Masochism? I’ve prodded, believe me, and all I can get out of him is a shrug and a retreat, as if I were the odd one.
And then, 10 year later, Ted passed on the yet-to-be isolated blender gene to his offspring: my husband.
When Ian was in college he thought of food as a nuisance. He just wanted to get all the calories and vitamins and minerals he needed and be done with it. So. that is what he did. Every day he had the same three meals: 2 shakes and a stew. His morning shakes were conventional: fruit, yogurt, flax. But, his lunch shakes were directly descendent from his fathers’: spinach, lentils, whole wheat bread, olive oil, avocado.
The dinner stew was a weekly production. Every Saturday night he would buy and prepare all the food he would consume for the next 7 dinners: a bunch of vegetables, a bunch of meat and a bunch of rice, all heaped together in a pot. “Everything a body needs,” until the next Saturday, and the next making of the stew.
I’ve got a better handle on his motivation, but I’ve learned to avoid any further questioning, or else risk that same shrug and retreat. I’m fairly confident I’m not the weirdo in either situation, but they’ve got me outnumbered and neither will admit that a tripleberry groundbeef smoothie is even the least bit strange.
The point of this story is three-fold: To confirm that he’s the crackpot in this situation, to expose that he’s a closet oddball and to make this next energy bar recipe seem pedestrian in comparison.
Ok, so the protein/fat/carb breakdown on these is great. There’s lots of fiber, lots of iron and, believe it or not, they taste great. Yes, they have pureed beans. The beans give them a moister, chewier, more energy-bar texture, they have a lot of protein and fiber, and you would never suspect the first ingredient was beans if you hadn’t, you know, made them. These are ideal post-run bars, err, balls. Give them a try, really.

Great Balls of Energy
butter or oil for greasing the cookie sheet
2 cups quinoa flakes (or oats or spelt flakes)
1 tablespoon anise seed
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 cup flour (whole wheat or white or spelt)
1-3 teaspoons lemon zest
3/4 teaspoon salt
one 15 oz can white beans (or any beans, really)
1/4 cup olive oil
1 cup brown sugar
1 egg
1 teaspoon vanilla
1/3 cup chopped dates (or other dried fruit)
1/3 cup sesame seeds (or very finely chopped nuts)
Preheat the oven to 350 and grease a cookie sheet. Put the oats or flakes in a food processor or blender and give them a few whirrs. They don’t have to be powder, but close to it. Put the chopped oats in a bowl with the anise, the baking powder and soda, the flour, the zest and the salt.
Mix it all together and then make a well in the middle. (Do people know what that means? Clear out the center of the bowl, making the surrounding flour-edges as high as possible. You’re making a bowl within a bowl.
Drain the beans and put them in the food processor along with the olive oil (you don’t need to have washed it). Blend them to a puree. Put the beans in the well you’ve made in your flour. Add in the sugar, egg and vanilla, and mix together the stuff in the well as much as you can before mixing in the flour. (Or you can mix that stuff sepately in a bowl before adding it to the flour mixture, but then you have to wash another bowl.) Don’t over-mix the flour. Mix in the chopped dates at the very end.
Roll the dough into 18 balls, each about a 1/4 cup. You can make them a different size, you’ll just have to adjust the baking time. It helps to have wet hands when rolling the batter.
Put the sesame seeds in a dish and roll each dough ball in it until covered. Bake 15 minutes, until the sesame seeds just start to toast.
calories-170
fat—5.4 g
fiber—3.5 g
sugar—14 g
protein—4.2 g
iron—-7.6 g
Just do it.
-Julia
These remind me a lot of this recipe: http://www.101cookbooks.com/archives/marathon-cookies-recipe.html. Looks good. Too bad I don’t have a food processor or blender! It sounds like I’ve been missing out on a lot of, umm, culinary adventures!
Your observation of Ted is endearing, what a guy! I’ll try the Balls, and won’t tell rowen there are beans or dates in them. I’ll let you know how that goes.
Aw, this was a really great post. In theory I’d like to write like this too – taking some time and effort to make a good article but what can I say… I procrastinate alot and never seem to get anything done.