Because:
a) it’s far too hot to cook
b) I just didn’t want to
3) I have 2 articles to finish tonight, plus a blog post
d) we’ve had a $25 Swiss Chalet gift card since Christmas, and I was determined not to let it expire
5) SC is one of the few places I don’t feel sheepish walking into with a 2 year old
6) they have the best fries in the world, especially if you ditch the Chalet sauce (I never understood the appeal) and ask for gravy and sour cream instead to make this delicious but slightly grotesque Swiss Chalet poutine (with sour cream instead of curds – hey, it works on a baked potato)
But half a dinnerplateful is too many, so I got a spinach salad and we shared Mike’s.
We used to go to Swiss Chalet when I was a kid, and were allowed to order a dessert that was under a dollar. A decade or so later it was the place Mike’s Nana brought the extended family to when she wanted to treat us all to a real special restaurant dinner. (Those were the days when the sundes were a dollar and came in little frosty stainless steel dishes and the waitresses wore those little Swiss blouses with the poufy off-the-shoulder sleeves.)
Besides the uniforms and decor it (thankfully) hasn’t changed much; we usually go once a year, for the Festive Special (I’ll do anything for a free Toblerone) but the air conditioning was extremely motivating. I think we still had at least 30 years on everyone in the place.
But now I have nothing to offer. The spinach salad was quite good though – baby spinach leaves, canned Mandarin orange segments, dried cranberries and slivered purple onion. I’d add toasted sliced almonds, but I’m sure that raises nut allergy issues in a large chain. It had a poppy seed dressing, which you can buy or make by shaking up equal parts canola oil and white wine vinegar, half as much poppy seeds, and a pinch of salt, pepper and sugar or honey.
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June 30 2008 | eating out | 2 Comments »
Whomever first applied the term “rustic” to food, and meant it as a good thing, is my hero. He or she has opened up the door for those of us who do not achieve picture-perfection to still present a handmade Danish braid without shame.
I myself feel a little superheroic for having made Danish pastry from scratch, on a weekend when the temperature went over 30 degrees (and stayed close to 30 up until midnight). Why on earth would I attempt buttery, flaky Danish pastry from scratch on the last weekend of June?
Because I went ahead and joined a group called The Daring Bakers, the activities of whom I have caught glimpses of here and there as I trip through food blogs. The group has a collective challenge every month – something baked that everyone must do on the same day and post on their blog. It looked like fun. I thought; I have to cook every day anyway, why not have someone choose something for me once a month? How hard could it be?
The very first month of my membership the challenge is making and working with yeasted laminated dough. (Danish dough is in the butter-laminated or layered dough family with puff pastry being the ultimate; Danish dough is sweet and is yeast-leavened, whereas puff pastry is not.) I fancy myself a relatively good baker; I couldn’t really imagine any challenge being too far out of my league. But puff pastry is something I’ve never made from scratch before. Why would I when you can buy a frozen block of it for $3?
Now, with the pressure on and an audience of hundreds of bakers watching, I didn’t want to mess up on my first go. We cannot stray from the recipe save for lemon zest instead of orange, and there is the option to make our own filling (which I took – an apple filling would be delicious but seemed blasphemous at almost the height of summer). As you know I am notorious for taking off in another direction while following a recipe, so a couple things tripped me up:
- it says the dough makes two Danish, but it doesn’t specify anywhere to divide the dough into two pieces; I did anyway
- when instructing the baker to cut 5″ slits an inch apart down the sides of the dough it doesn’t mention doing so on an angle; I thought I should, but didn’t want to blow it. Turns out I should have – the first braid didn’t have “flaps” of dough on the ends to fold up and down and trap the filling, but I cut them on an angle the second time and it turned out much neater
- the egg wash calls for an egg and an egg yolk; just the beaten egg was far more than enough to brush over two Danish, so I didn’t bother adding a yolk too
My berry filling was simple – about 2 cups of fresh or frozen berries and 3/4 cup sugar, and a squeeze (about a tablespoon) of lemon juice – simmer on the stove, mashing with a spoon, until it simmers and thickens a bit, and the mixture is jamlike. Cool completely. Mine was a bit juicy. I knew this, but pushing better judgement aside, I attempted to spoon out the solids and lay them along the middle of my quickly melting pastry. The pool of crimson juice didn’t waste any time spreading as I attempted to eloquently alternate the flaps, and it sat there and bled out for 2 hours as it proofed. Despite this, it turned out wonderfully, and the burnt juice just wiped right off the Silpat mat.
For the other, I thought I’d make use of a small jar of spiced fig caramel I bought awhile ago from The Girl and the Fig, but obviously didn’t want to stuff a cup of caramel into the braid for moral reasons. So I figured goat cheese crumbled in might make a good experiment. After all, so many Danish are stuffed with sweetened cream cheese, and figs go brilliantly with goat cheese, and there’s no need to sweeten the goat cheese in the company of all that caramel. (I do have a recipe for fig caramel, so if you love the idea of it, like I did, here you go. Don’t make it now though; save it for the fall, or to make a stash of when you need all those little holiday gifts for so many people.)
Spiced Fig and Orange Caramel
4-5 dried figs, stems removed and finely chopped
3/4 c. sugar
1/2 c. water
zest and juice of an orange
1/2 c. whipping cream
pinch cinnamon (optional)
pinch allspice (optional)
In a small saucepan, cover the figs with water or orange juice and bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Simmer for about 10 minutes, until the figs are very soft and mushy. Drain off any excess liquid and set aside while you make the caramel.
In a heavy medium saucepan, stir together the sugar and water and set over medium heat. Stir until the sugar dissolves, then bring to a boil. Reduce heat to medium-low and cook, without stirring, for about 8 minutes or until the mixture is a deep amber colour. Occasionally swirl the pan and brush the sides down with a pastry brush dipped in cold water.
Carefully add the orange zest, juice, whipping cream and spices; step back, as the mixture will bubble and spit. Turn down the heat to low and whisk until smooth. Stir in the figs and cool completely.
Makes about 1 ½ cups. Store in the refrigerator for up to 2 weeks; rewarm on the stove or in the microwave.
Fortunately we were going to watch the European soccer final today, then to a friend’s house for dinner tonight (steak, orzo salad, caramelized onion focaccia, cookies and a giant bowl of cherries for dessert) so I had the opportunity to pawn them both off. Unfortunately, I started to shape my braids at 9 and was not finished until 10 – the rectangles of dough just didn’t want to be any bigger than a piece of 8 1/2″ x 11″ looseleaf. Every time I rolled over the dough it would shyly pull back. If it does this, just let the dough relax for awhile, and try again in about 10 minutes. Eventually you’ll be able to coax it out to a large enough rectangle.
So by noon, the braids were just finishing up their 2 hour proofing and didn’t have time to bake before going to watch the game, so they had to go with us and bake there. Not a big deal, except that delicate, buttery puff pastry does not like to travel in a hot car at 30 degrees, and it particularly does not like it when I make Mike pull over and hold the tray while I go buy vintage polka-dot glasses and an old sunburst juice pitcher at a garage sale.
But, the braid. Check out this recipe – when I printed it out to take down to the kitchen with me, it took three full pages. But it was worth the effort, and I will likely make it again. Maybe when the temperature drops below 20.
I mean, how cool is this – I made Danish pastry from scratch! I’m so glad they made me.
Danish Braid from Sherry Yard’s The Secrets of Baking
Danish Dough
Makes 2-1/2 pounds dough
For the dough (Detrempe)
1 ounce fresh yeast or 1 tablespoon active dry yeast
1/2 cup whole milk
1/3 cup sugar
Zest of 1 orange, finely grated – I used a lemon, but will likely omit both next time
3/4 teaspoon ground cardamom
1-1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1/2 vanilla bean, split and scraped
2 large eggs, chilled
1/4 cup fresh orange juice
3-1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon salt
For the butter block (Beurrage)
1/2 pound (2 sticks) cold unsalted butter
1/4 cup all-purpose flour
Combine the yeast and milk in the bowl of a mixer fitted with the paddle attachment and mix on low speed. Slowly add sugar, orange zest, cardamom, vanilla extract, vanilla seeds, eggs, and orange juice. Mix well. Change to the dough hook and add the salt with the flour, 1 cup at a time, increasing speed to medium as the flour is incorporated. Knead the dough for about 5 minutes, or until smooth. You may need to add a little more flour if it is sticky. Transfer dough to a lightly floured baking sheet and cover with plastic wrap. Refrigerate for 30 minutes.
Without a standing mixer: Combine yeast and milk in a bowl with a hand mixer on low speed or a whisk. Add sugar, orange zest, cardamom, vanilla extract, vanilla seeds, eggs, and orange juice and mix well. Sift flour and salt on your working surface and make a fountain. Make sure that the “walls” of your fountain are thick and even. Pour the liquid in the middle of the fountain. With your fingertips, mix the liquid and the flour starting from the middle of the fountain, slowly working towards the edges. When the ingredients have been incorporated start kneading the dough with the heel of your hands until it becomes smooth and easy to work with, around 5 to 7 minutes. You might need to add more flour if the dough is sticky.
Combine butter and flour in the bowl of a mixer fitted with a paddle attachment and beat on medium speed for 1 minute. Scrape down the sides of the bowl and the paddle and then beat for 1 minute more, or until smooth and lump free. Set aside at room temperature.
After the detrempe has chilled 30 minutes, turn it out onto a lightly floured surface. Roll the dough into a rectangle approximately 18 x 13 inches and ¼ inch thick. The dough may be sticky, so keep dusting it lightly with flour. Spread the butter evenly over the center and right thirds of the dough. Fold the left edge of the detrempe to the right, covering half of the butter. Fold the right third of the rectangle over the center third. The first turn has now been completed. Mark the dough by poking it with your finger to keep track of your turns, or use a sticky and keep a tally. Place the dough on a baking sheet, wrap it in plastic wrap, and refrigerate for 30 minutes.
Place the dough lengthwise on a floured work surface. The open ends should be to your right and left. Roll the dough into another approximately 13 x 18 inch, ¼-inch-thick rectangle. Again, fold the left third of the rectangle over the center third and the right third over the center third. No additional butter will be added as it is already in the dough. The second turn has now been completed. Refrigerate the dough for 30 minutes.
Roll out, turn, and refrigerate the dough two more times, for a total of four single turns. Make sure you are keeping track of your turns. Refrigerate the dough after the final turn for at least 5 hours or overnight. The Danish dough is now ready to be used. If you will not be using the dough within 24 hours, freeze it. To do this, roll the dough out to about 1 inch in thickness, wrap tightly in plastic wrap, and freeze. Defrost the dough slowly in the refrigerator for easiest handling. Danish dough will keep in the freezer for up to 1 month.
Apple Filling
Makes enough for two braids
4 Fuji or other apples, peeled, cored, and cut into ¼-inch pieces
1/2 cup sugar
1 tsp. ground cinnamon
1/2 vanilla bean, split and scraped
1/4 cup fresh lemon juice
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
Toss all ingredients except butter in a large bowl. Melt the butter in a sauté pan over medium heat until slightly nutty in color, about 6 – 8 minutes. Then add the apple mixture and sauté until apples are softened and caramelized, 10 to 15 minutes. If you’ve chosen Fujis, the apples will be caramelized, but have still retained their shape. Pour the cooked apples onto a baking sheet to cool completely before forming the braid. (If making ahead, cool to room temperature, seal, and refrigerate.) They will cool faster when spread in a thin layer over the surface of the sheet. After they have cooled, the filling can be stored in the refrigerator for up to 3 days. Left over filling can be used as an ice cream topping, for muffins, cheesecake, or other pastries.
Danish Braid
Makes 2 large braids
1 recipe Danish Dough
2 cups apple filling, jam, or preserves
For the egg wash: 1 large egg, plus 1 large egg yolk
1. Line a baking sheet with a silicone mat or parchment paper. On a lightly floured surface, roll the Danish Dough into a 15 x 20-inch rectangle, ¼ inch thick. If the dough seems elastic and shrinks back when rolled, let it rest for a few minutes, then roll again. Place the dough on the baking sheet.
2. Along one long side of the pastry make parallel, 5-inch-long cuts with a knife or rolling pastry wheel, each about 1 inch apart. Repeat on the opposite side, making sure to line up the cuts with those you’ve already made.
3. Spoon the filling you’ve chosen to fill your braid down the center of the rectangle. Starting with the top and bottom “flaps”, fold the top flap down over the filling to cover. Next, fold the bottom “flap” up to cover filling. This helps keep the braid neat and helps to hold in the filling. Now begin folding the cut side strips of dough over the filling, alternating first left, then right, left, right, until finished. Trim any excess dough and tuck in the ends. Whisk together the whole egg and yolk in a bowl and with a pastry brush, lightly coat the braid.
Proofing and Baking
1. Spray nonstick spray onto a piece of plastic wrap, and place over the braid. Proof at room temperature or, if possible, in a controlled 90 degree F environment for about 2 hours, or until doubled in volume and light to the touch.
2. Near the end of proofing, preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Position a rack in the center of the oven.
3. Bake for 10 minutes, then rotate the pan so that the side of the braid previously in the back of the oven is now in the front. Lower the oven temperature to 350 degrees F, and bake about 15-20 minutes more, or until golden brown. Cool and serve the braid either still warm from the oven or at room temperature. The cooled braid can be wrapped airtight and stored in the refrigerator for up to 2 days, or freeze for 1 month.
Yes, it tastes exactly like it looks.
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June 29 2008 | breakfast and sweet stuff | 13 Comments »
Last week, I was driving with my 10 year old niece and she asked me what my favourite food was. After I stopped laughing at the idea of having to choose just one (I sometimes get panicky at the thought of how much great food there is to eat and only so many hours in a day and months in a year and kilometres on the elliptical trainer – seriously) she countered with favourite type of food. Unable to choose one ethnicity (I’ve always disagreed with the use of that term in relation to food anyway – isn’t all food ethnic? Shouldn’t it more appropriately be “exotic” or “the food that they eat a lot of in Greece” or whatever?) I had to answer: anything with melted cheese on it.
I think I’m still OK with my answer.
Pizza is just always a good thing. I bought a couple portobello mushrooms a few days ago with the intention of making portobello burgers (and because ever since we had those portobello bison burgers, Mike has been asking for seconds) and then remembered today that they make a pretty good support system for personal-size pizzas, too.
As with any pizza, you can put whatever you like on these. You scrape out the gills and bake or grill them first, just to tenderize them and get rid of some of the excess liquid; I have heard of a method where you weigh the mushrooms down as you bake them in order to press out as much liquid as possible – the result is a sort of leathery-textured compact mushroom. You could do this in the oven on a baking sheet with another sheet and perhaps a pan set on top, or you could even cook them in a panini grill, if you happen to have one kicking around.
I didn’t have much in the way of potential pizza toppings around – except mushrooms – but do always keep a jar of Classico extra garlic bruschetta on the shelf. No one pays me to say this. I was actually at a housewarming and asked where they got the bruschetta, and my friend sheepishly admitted it was a $3 jar of Classico. The stuff is good, and has only the usual bruschetta ingredients – nothing unpronouncable. It’s great for an emergency appetizer with baguette, or on top of pasta with crumbled feta cheese, and maybe some shrimp from the freezer.
Tonight I spooned some over the mushrooms, draining most of the liquid off the spoon, and topped them with mozzarella. So easy. And perfect to do in your toaster oven or grill so as to not heat up the house.
Portobello Pizzas with Tomato Bruschetta
2 portobello mushroom caps
1 clove garlic, crushed
olive or canola oil
1/3 cup (ish) chunky tomato bruschetta
grated mozzarella cheese
Preheat the oven to 350°F or your grill to medium.
Remove the mushroom stems and scrape the gills out with a spoon – only because they tend to be bitter. Stir the garlic into the oil and brush it all over the mushroom caps – both sides.
Place the mushroom caps bowl-side up on a baking sheet and bake (or grill) for 8-10 minutes, until tender. Take them out of the oven and increase the oven temperature to 450°F, or turn up your grill a bit.
Top your mushrooms with the bruschetta and cheese. Bake (or grill, with the lid closed) for 5-10 minutes, until the cheese melts.
Serves 2 (recipe doubles or triples easily)
And see? The pizzas are even sturdy enough to eat out of hand, just like the real thing.
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June 28 2008 | on the grill and vegetarian | 2 Comments »
I hardly ever make sandwiches, but when I do, it’s mostly because it makes me feel like a good and competent wife feeding one to Mike, the way my Grandma made a sandwich for my Grandad every day for lunch, or at least every day that I was in their presence. She’d feed it to him at the head of the table in the windowed dining room looking out onto the Detroit river (they lived in Windsor), where occasionally a freighter would go by and we’d all scramble to get out the binoculars and smokestack guidebook to help us identify where it had come from. Sometimes he’d have it at the glass table in the kitchen, which they bought so they could see who (of my mom and her 4 brothers) was kicking whom under the table. Each time he’d say “thanks Mad” without looking up from his sandwich, and we thought it was totally hilarious that he called her “Mad” (short for Madelon).
Mostly they were tomato and/or onion or salmon sandwiches on buttered bread, which he would dip into a shallow bowl of vinegar – he said when you got to be ninety, your tastebuds needed a little help. Tonights’ were made with roasted Mediterranean chicken from the deli, with some havarti, tomatoes, lettuce, light mayo and lots of pepper; every time I have a sandwich like this, which seems too boring to bother with, I remember how much I love them, especially on grainy bread.
W asked for Raisin Bran again. (I’m glad he likes it; when I was a kid, all we would get was Raisin Bran, Cheerios, Shreddies and Muffets, and I fantasized about Cap’n Crunch and Froot Loops and Corn Pops, which we only got little boxes of when we went camping. When we were at Grandma’s though, she’d have Harvest Crunch, which was the best, even though she made us cut it with Special K. To this day it has to be Special K and Harvest Crunch.)
While I have your attention, I’d like to know, please, what is going on with my rhubarb. How is it that I am completely and utterly unable to successfully grow what is essentially a weed that requires no maintenance nor a green thumb? My neighbor pulled out an unwanted rhubarb plant last year, and the thing thrived in the back alley beside the garbage bin, roots fully exposed, for an entire season. And here mine, planted nicely beside the deck in semi-sun and the protective bosom of a loving family, refuses to thrive. The stalks are pencil-thin (and pencil-long), depressed looking, and mostly green. (I’ve also killed my basil, but my peas seem to be doing very well.) Down the alley there is a plant almost as tall as me with leaves you could wear as a sarong. Up the hill, A’s rhubarb is lovely and full, thick as three-ply celery and ruby red, and you can pick more than you can carry without making the slightest dent in one plant. So long as she allows access to her rhubarb everything will be OK, but I’d still like to pick my own outside my back door.
Anyone?
June 27 2008 | sandwiches | 13 Comments »
Or as someone slightly more eloquent might say, Croque Monsieur.
I love it when dinners come about like this: last week, Pierre wrote about Mr. Crunchy in his food column in Swerve; generally I would glaze over a story about grilled ham & cheese (as you may very well be doing right now), but I like Pierre. Not a whole lot must have sunk in except the name of said sandwich, because tonight I was still under the impression that a Croque Monsieur was ham & cheese dipped in egg and fried (actually a Monte Cristo). I had the kids, and all they wanted to eat was grilled cheese. But my sister was coming home from work to eat dinner with us, and I didn’t want to feed her a plain old grilled cheese. I found a package of ham I had forgotten I bought, and remembered Mr. Crunch.
Searching around, I found a lot of CM (or MC) recipes that were simply ham & cheese, and then a Barefoot Contessa recipe as well as one credited to some café in Paris (if I ever went to Paris, I might know the place; sadly all my dineros go to accountants and dentists and other non-glamorous places… and a new roof, furnace, washer and dryer and gas stove are on my to-spend list before trips) that was made of ham & gruyère, with a gruyère cheese sauce poured overtop and broiled. It’s sort of part fondue, part Welsh Rarebit (if you made it with some ale and mustard and Worcestershire).
I never have gruyère. I had gruyère! So I couldn’t really not make it, could I?
So I dismissed all the way-too-elaborate instructions to broil the bread, spread with mustard (and sometimes crème fraîche), top with cheese and ham and another slice of bread, broil again, and then top with the cheese sauce and broil – I just made a grilled ham and cheese with gruyère, made the cheese sauce (seriously the easiest thing in the world – melt 2 Tbsp. butter or oil in a pan with 3 Tbsp. flour, whisk until melted, whisk in 2 cups of milk, heat until it bubbles, and stir in a couple handfuls of grated cheese), poured it overtop of the sandwiches and ran it under the broiler for two minutes.
For future reference, a Croque Monsieur with a fried egg on top is a Croque Madame. (Ms. Crunch.) Mike would have loved this, like he’s favourite Vera’s fried-egg burger in Vancouver, but said he’d better not.
We balanced Mr. Crunch out with a green salad and a big bowl of Ichiban salad, which my sister got all excited over. The best way I know of to eat my cabbage.
June 26 2008 | sandwiches | 3 Comments »
