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Vegan Flapjacks

Vegan flapjacks

Vegan flapjacks

From time to time it’s good to have a flapjack and time off. When you have such a classic dessert like flapjack, you should also watch something you really like, possibly from the 80s.

I love Francis Ford Coppola’s films, but the one which is perfect with this kind of nibble is ‘Peggy Sue Got Married’.


I bet there are many people dreading their school reunion. And many might remember that one odd guy they would sleep with, if they went back to school years. Or if they went back, they would do everything differently. Well, maybe if you could time travel you could try to change things, but probably the only thing you could succeed in  is ‘to take better care of your teeth’.

The film is beautifully shot, dialogues are a perfection and the cast is star studded. I love the fact that Peggy’s younger sister is played by a young Sofia Coppola. Aaaaww.

My favourite character will always remain Michael Fitzsimmons. He’s a bit of a beatnik wannabe but also has the best lines. When Peggy says that they had a glorious night together and one day he’s going to write about it, he says: ‘Yeah, I can dig that. Bittersweet perfection. Dogs of lust on leashes of memory’. I also totally agree with him on his judgment of Hemingway.

So put your hair in a ponytail ( if you have hair of a suitable length, or still have hair), make yourself flapjacks (not strudel this time), wrap yourself in a blanket and watch ‘Peggy Sue Got Married’. Maybe after all, you wouldn’t like to change anything in your past….

Vegan Flapjacks:

2 cups oats

1 cup quinoa flakes

5 spoons cocoa oil

3 ripe bananas, mashed

1 cup raisins

1/2 honey

1 tsp cinnamon

1 cup chopped pecans

1. Mix oats, quinoa flakes and pecans in a bowl.

2. Heat coconut oil with honey, raisins and bananas until coconut oil melts and everything is combined.

3. Pour the mixture over oats, add cinnamon, mix well.

4. Transfer into a baking tray lined with parching paper. Bake in 180C till golden brown (about 20- 30 minutes).

5. Wait until it’s completely cool, cut into squares. Enjoy.

vegan flapjack

vegan flapjack

vegan flapjack

vegan flapjack




About potatofaces

People who cook always go on about precious memories of childhood food one of their family members cooked, how daddy or nanny taught them the importance of cooking and eating together, and they still remember the comfort food they produced, amazing dishes whipped up by brilliant but humble cooks in their family. Well, let me tell you, it was totally different in my family. My mother’s family – totally useless as cooks, who could survive on bread and butter, cooked once a week a terrible, terrible meal, usually some kind of meat piece with lots of brown sauce. Also, they were never bothered about eating together. That’s maybe why most of them were depressed and suicidal. My mother followed that path and couldn’t really cook, and because I never wanted to eat meat, was warning me that ‘one day I will regret it’. Probably because my mother wasn’t into cooking my sister at the age of 12 took over and started producing amazing dinners and cakes. Well, luckily for me and her we weren’t that genetically doomed because apparently my father’s family were gifted in that compartment. I can only presume it was genes, as my father divorced my mother when my sis and me were little and he strongly believed that he also divorced us. So, we were growing up never having any contact with him and as a result, couldn’t learn how to cook from him. That’s why I believe the love of cooking ( and the ability) was just passed to us genetically. My father, short time before he died, unexpectedly felt an urge to contact us. First he gave my sister a mandolin (that’s another thing I know about him- he played a few instruments). My sister refused to talk to him, he then decided to contact me and wanted to spend some time with me. I didn’t want to, as he was a stranger to me (I was 11 or 12 at the time) but as I was promised I could leave whenever I wanted to, I went to the village he lived in. There I tried his mother’s cooking everyone was raving about. It was simple and amazing, I wish they were as family dedicated as they were at baking, cooking, making pastries, wine, tinctures, you name it. But I ate, drunk, and got bored of strangers who were my family and demanded to be let to go home. One of the last things my father said to me was that I should start learning English because I might need it one day, which I ignored for another 16 years… Because my sister was such a domestic goddess I wasn’t really bothered about cooking. I got hooked properly after my son was born and I wanted him to eat healthy and get everything he needed, especially that it wasn’t his choice to be a vegetarian (yet). And that is how the story begins…

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