Browsing the shelves of City Market, Onion River Co-op's South End location, I found an object in the freezer section that gave me pause. It was an amorphous brown blob of seitan with a label that boasted, "Vermont Owned Family Business Since 1979." Thinking it would be an economical choice for quick lunches, I threw a $9.99 "pounder" in my cart.
Seitan, a wheat gluten-based alternative protein sometimes called "wheat meat," evokes 1970s hippie food, unless it's masquerading as meat in a trendy, ready-made product such as fake chorizo or beef crumbles. Christina Denby has made her Sheffield Seitan in Lyndon for upwards of four decades. Her product doesn't pretend to be anything but what it is: "Organic wheat gluten, cooked in natural soy sauce, spices, and water." And the simplicity is magic.
"It's unique and a step above any seitan I've ever encountered," said Tim Elliott, co-owner of Zabby & Elf's Stone Soup in Burlington. He has been cooking with Sheffield Seitan since about 1992, back when he ran the vegetarian deli at the long-gone Origanum Natural Foods on Main Street.
Elliott appreciates the product's versatility, he said. It's large enough that he can cut it thin on a meat slicer before he marinates it in maple syrup and tamari and layers it on bread for the popular veggie Reuben sandwich. He also creates seitan pepper "steaks" with the slicer and runs the seitan through a cheese grater so it can mimic ground beef in specials such as Cuban stew.
"It's one of those blank slates that is really great at soaking up sauces," he said.
Now 74, Denby bought the business with her late husband, Leo Denby, in 1981. It has taken several forms over the years; at one point, the couple delivered wheat puffs (tempura-fried seitan) around the state while picking up and reselling fresh specialty breads such as bagels, Jewish rye and croissants. Elliott fondly remembers the days when Leo would truck his goods to Burlington, bringing a complimentary snack of cornmeal-breaded seitan that "fried up just like chicken fingers" and tasted "stupid delightful."
Eventually, a New Hampshire-based distributor scooped up the seitan and scattered it across the Northeast. When that company was bought by a larger one in New Jersey, Denby severed the relationship, opting to ship frozen seitan straight from her shop in the Northeast Kingdom to individuals, retailers and restaurants, including Stone Soup, the Mad Taco and Bueno y Sano.
Today, Denby is Sheffield Seitan's sole employee. She has scaled back the business to a comfortable 25-hour workweek, focusing on maintaining current accounts. The relaxed pace leaves time to spend with her family and new husband. Still, she enjoys the work and plans to keep at it for the foreseeable future, she said, despite challenges along the way.
Right now, for instance, she has trouble sourcing the organic, 15 percent protein flour she needs to maintain quality. "I go week by week. COVID almost put me under, but I kept saying, 'I can make it through,'" Denby said. She doesn't want to disappoint her customers, some of whom have remained loyal buyers after moving as far away as California.
After I picked up the seitan pounder on a whim at City Market, it languished in my freezer for a good couple of months. I was intimidated by the prospect of preparing it myself, having eaten seitan only a handful of times, usually at fast-food burrito spots. I even defrosted it once before its brown blobbiness freaked me out and I put it back. (Unlike most foods, seitan can be refrozen.)
When St. Patrick's Day rolled around, my hankering for a meat-and-potatoes-type meal inspired me to take the leap. I defrosted the pounder again, then cubed and braised it for a veggie take on Guinness pie. The chunks of seitan provided a meat-like chew among the mushrooms, carrots and celery. Bathed in a velvety reduced-stout sauce and topped with flaky pastry, the dish was a hit with vegetarians and omnivores alike.
Since then, I've used Sheffield Seitan as a filling for homemade burritos and tacos and, on one recent summer evening, in place of beef on grilled veggie kebabs. I cut it into large chunks straight out of the package and threaded them on skewers with colorful peppers, onions, broccoli and cremini caps. Over hot coals, the edges of the seitan charred, adding a pleasant crisp to its signature chew. A marinade would add punch, but the soy sauce in the seitan brought enough umami to the table that even low effort was plenty. The zippy garlic scape-and-kale pesto I spread over my kebabs perfectly complemented the mildly spiced seitan.
With practice, my confidence in cooking Denby's seitan has grown. I'm already thinking of how I'll use it next, imagining seitan-bacon BLTs all summer (aka tomato season) long. Maybe I'll even attempt wheat puffs.
Small Pleasures is an occasional column that features delicious and distinctive Vermont-made food or drinks that pack a punch. Send us your favorite little bites or sips with big payoff at food@sevendaysvt.com.