Archive for February, 2010
So I was sitting at my desk this afternoon, as I typically am on any given afternoon of my present-day life, on this particular day enraged at a box of styrofoam peanuts that had just arrived at my door containing: a juice box, a Nutri-grain Bar and a single packet of those little bread sticks with processed cheese product. (Like-a third of a three-pack, pulled apart.) This is what the PR people charged with promoting National Snack Month on behalf of the Canadian Automatic Merchandising Association decided would be a good idea, that I might open it up and be inspired to write about how concerned the vending machine people are with the health of all our kids who have snack machines in their schools and hospitals, and how we can all feel good about the fact that they now have healthy options like WHITE BREADSTICKS AND PROCESSED CHEESE PRODUCT. For real. That was the gist of the accompanying press release.
Boy, did they get the wrong person. I was fuming, tweeting, plotting my course of action when an email came out of the blue, letting me know that the group of Blog Aid contributors had ganged up to make a donation to Doctors without Borders in my honour. My emotions did a backflip. I couldn’t see to type for the tears. Had there been any witnesses they might have thought me a little unbalanced, going from annoyed hammering on my keypad to snivelling, grinning and searching for Kleenex.
There’s so much love around. I feel like all I did was reach into the pot and stir it up. Like Tea so eloquently put it, we cannot do it alone. (I love the way she widens the scope of love in our lives – I couldn’t agree more. Even as someone married, I get tired of Valentine’s day so narrowly defined as a mushily romantic, couple-y sort of occasion. Love is so much bigger than romance and overpriced roses for a member of the opposite sex you want to hop in bed with. It does indeed make the world go ’round.)
This wonderful lot schemed to make an even bigger difference to those who need it (and to me): Chef Michael Smith, Dana McCauley, Emily Richards, Catharine from Weelicious, Cheryl from Backseat Gourmet, Jeannette of Everybody Likes Sandwiches, Nishta from Blue Jean Gourmet, Lauren of Celiac Teen, Charmian from Christie’s Corner, Shaina from Food for my Family, Marisa of Food in Jars, Shauna and Danny from Gluten-Free Girl and the Chef, Lauren from Healthy Delicious, Alice from Savory Sweet Life, Tara from Seven Spoons, Jess of Sweet Amandine, Helen from Tartelette, Gail from The Pink Peppercorn, Pierre of Kitchen Scraps, Tim from Lottie and Doof, Tea from Tea & Cookies, Jamie from My Baking Addiction, Lori from Recipe Girl, Melissa from The Traveler’s Lunchbox, Brooke of Tongue-n-Cheeky and Aimee of Under the High Chair.
Thanks, guys. Sniff.
And let’s not forget dinner: this morning the CEO crew requested Chinese food in honour of the Chinese New Year and I managed to save some ribs for us. Dinner was fried rice to use up the last bits of broccoli and asparagus, and a half rack of ribs. And popcorn. (Also: I filled the blender with the last of last summer’s blackberries from the freezer, and when I turned to get the yogurt, W pressed the on button with the lid off.)
Hoisin Pork Ribs
Adapted from Canadian Living Magazine, April 2004
2 lb (1 kg) pork side or back ribs
1/2 cup hoisin sauce
2 Tbsp rice vinegar
1 Tbsp liquid honey
4 garlic cloves, minced
1 Tbsp. grated fresh gingerroot
big pinch hot pepper flakes
toasted sesame seeds and/or chopped green onions, for garnish (optional)
Put the ribs on a rimmed baking sheet and cover tightly with foil; bake at 300°F for 2 1/2-3 hours, until tender. (Ribs can be cooked up to this point and then wrapped in foil and refrigerated for up to 3 days.) Meanwhile, stir together the hoisin sauce, vinegar, honey, garlic, ginger and hot pepper flakes.
Remove the foil, turn the oven up to 425°F, brush the ribs with sauce and roast for another 10 minutes, until dark and sticky. (Alternatively, you could finish them on the grill over high heat for a few minutes.) Sprinkle with sesame seeds and green onions. Serves 6.
February 16 2010 | pork | 16 Comments »
Honestly, that title was hilarious last night when we were deep into the shiraz. I didn’t think this post would entice as much if I titled it “Ensaimadas”, which is what I’m going to tell you about. The name doesn’t do justice to these slightly sweet, poufy buns of the very best kind, brushed in their innards with homemade lard made of pork fat. Seriously – don’t gag.
(Sorry to have skipped out on you for the weekend – I pulled out my laptop and camera yesterday to summon a post, but discovered I had brought the wrong camera-to-computer cord. So rather than talk about something I couldn’t show you in pictures, I thought I’d wait another day.)
We spent a chunk of the weekend (minus the driving part) on the top of a snowy mountain. W went skiing for the first time (us in our boots, coaxing him toward each other at the bottom of one of the more secluded hills). Beyond that, and watching the Olympics, and drinking vast quantities of wine, we had intense and excited conversations about lard. You can imagine the boys were relentless in their taunting that their wives’ weekend revolved around a side of pig fat. (“It’s Saturday night – what are you doing? We’re rendering pig fat!”) They nonetheless reaped the benefits of our efforts, and liked it.
But first, while I backtrack to the point where we decided to make lard our weekend activity, I should backtrack further. There’s no point being elusive about the friend I’ve come to visit; you may have noticed here here, subtly popping up now and then in the comments. Sue is just an excellent person. The shyest two at our small Junior High school, we were thrust together by teachers playing matchmaker for the ones who just didn’t seem to have much in the way of social standing. It was a good call. We spent our formative years listening to U2 and the Clash, wearing tights and slingbacks, dating British boys and pouring mickeys of rye into Super Big Gulps. And speaking of boys -we met Mike at her big sister’s apartment, and it was up for debate over the course of that first year which one of us would go around with him (I told her she could have him).
Sue had always wanted to be a barnstormer, eventually got her pilot’s license, and snatched herself up her very own pilot in the process. About a decade ago they produced a baby girl (who when she was brand-new looked like a Maurice Sendak drawing – and I mean that in the cutest possible way) and soon after relocated to the top of a mountain in BC, very close to exceptional skiing, he being an ex-speed skier in New Zealand and still thoroughly obsessed with the sport.
Which is all to say I WISH SHE LIVED CLOSER. (No pressure if you’re reading this, Sue.) But as is so often the case I probably see her as often as my Calgary friends, she having access to cheap flights via her most excellent West Jet pilot husband, and conveniently living halfway between Calgary and Tofino. And when we do see each other, it’s good quality time spent.
Who am I kidding? I still wish she lived closer. I think the old adage absence makes the heart grow fonder only applies to romantic situations in which logistics prevent you from being bothered by the facts of domestic life – socks on the floor, annoying bathroom habits and the like – and the, ahem, benefits never stagnate.
There are two things you should know about Sue: 1) she’s an unbelievable cook, and appreciates food in all the same ways I do (when we see each other we invariably make fruitcakes or jam or something, and if not the conversation is very food-centric, which actually works out just fine because the boys are always busy discussing planes), and 2) she’s a brilliant writer. She reads as much as I always intend to. Even her emails are good reads. She’s also very smart – she was the one getting marks in the high 90s in physics and math while math was the bane of my teenage existence and I Forest Gumped my way through English having not actually read Hamlet (but still managed an 83%!). I keep telling her she should combine the two somehow and I don’t know – write a blog or something – but so far she hasn’t, so I thought I’d swoop in and steal her for myself, and ask if she might like to do an occasional guest post here, just to get her toes wet. (I suppose that wasn’t the very best analogy for a food blog, but you get the gist.)
Anyway. We’re equally enthusiastic about food and its preparation, so there’s almost always a cooking project on the table – something we likely wouldn’t bother with if the other wasn’t there to hold our hand and share in the revelry. A couple weeks ago, when it was confirmed we’d be coming to visit, she sent an email saying oh goody – and let’s make these! Using lard we make from scratch! Which I admit is something I’d considered doing in the past, but only briefly – the stigma of pure white pig fat acts as effective deterrent.
But here’s something I didn’t know: lard made from pure rendered pig fat is lower in saturated fat than butter. For real! Although the thought, I concede, is a little gag-inducing, it was a big selling point to go ahead and make some. And it does fall into the whole food category – unprocessed, no additives – I know exactly what’s in it. I’d rather eat pork fat from a farm in BC than most of what comes in a tub and is labeled as some sort of butterlike spread.
So as soon as I walked in the door on Saturday afternoon and dropped my suitcase, Sue presented a slice of pig – a giant slab of fat and skin, which we promptly set about chopping – or rather sawing – to set in a cast iron pot and melt in the oven. Our blades didn’t slide through it like butter, as we expected it to – it was more like chewing through leather – we took turns and enlisted Mike’s help to get it into little pieces to put in the pot. (Note to self: get the butcher to grind it next time. Or score and throw in with skin intact, to let the fat melt off? Also: try it in the slow cooker.)
It sat on the stove for awhile before we popped it in the oven at its lowest temperature when it came time to go to bed. (The idea is that you melt the fat without browning it – adding a bit of water helps prevent this, and cooks off as the fat is rendered.) Poor Lola sat in waiting, hoping some pork bits would spontaneously jump from the pot. They didn’t.
In the morning we poured the fat off of the clumpy, sticky bits of skin (is this what’s supposed to turn into cracklings? they never did) and chilled it. It came out solid but spreadable, pure white and fairly benign in flavour. It had an appealing texture – creamy and soft, like whipped Vaseline – softer than butter – evidence of its lower saturated fat content.
There was much hoopla and speculation over the potential pastry and biscuits it might produce. From the two of us, anyway – everyone else in the house looked up from speed skating and moguls (yay Bilodeau!) and rolled their eyes. But I bet if we had made biscuits and pie, they’d have eaten them. It’s probably a good thing we left early enough this morning to not have time for more lard-baking. And can you imagine the roasted potatoes?
So this was all lard-making for the sake of lard-making, but also to produce the Ensaimadas Sue had seen on Delicious Days.
We made the dough using fresh yeast (half a pound for a little over a dollar, and it worked swimmingly) – it’s a lovely, soft dough made with eggs and olive oil, rolled it out, brushed it with the lard, rolled and coiled each piece and set them aside to rise as we went to collect the kids from craft night in the village.
We made the mistake of baking them before dinner, and sprinkled them as they emerged from the oven with icing sugar – they were light, soft and ethereal. But oh the possibilities! For this dough (wonderfully light and slightly sweet, with no butter) as well as their shape – I’m dying to make a cinnamon bun in this form; the sugar and cinnamon and nuts enclosed in its spiral and then coiled like a snail shell; in fact, the next time I make a roll of cinnamon buns rather than cut them into rounds I’ll try coiling the lot, baking it and then slicing into wedges. They were just so pretty – and I imagine doing them this way would prevent overly sticky fingers. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, unless you’re short on napkins.
Besides cinnamon, we fantasized various cheese blends with garlic, pesto and prosciutto, mincemeat. The very best kind of recipe is that which begets even more creations.
Ensaimadas
I’m keeping the weight measurements here, because Sue is devoted to her kitchen scale and used that (seriously easy – you plunk the bowl on the scale and add ingredients by weight instead of needing measuring cups and spoons) – but I’ll give you the straight-up measurements too. Adapted from Delicious Days, inspired by Eliza’s recipe.
3 2/3 cups (500 g) all-purpose flour (plus more as needed)
1/3 cup (75 g) sugar
1/2 tsp. fine sea salt
2 Tbsp. dry yeast (or 40 g fresh)
1 scant cup (about 7/8 cup – you may need the whole cup) lukewarm milk
2 medium eggs
2 Tbsp. olive oil
1/2 cup (about 100 g)soft pork lard or butter
icing sugar, for dusting
In a large bowl, combine the flour, sugar and salt. Make a hollow in the middle, crumble in the yeast and a pinch of sugar and pour over enough of the milk to cover; stir just the yeast and milk once or twice, then cover the bowl with a kitchen towel and let rest for about 15 minutes or until the surface of the yeast milk looks bubbly.
Add the rest of the ingredients (the remaining milk, eggs and olive oil) stir until a dough forms and then knead on a lightly floured countertop for a few minutes, until smooth. (The dough was a little sticky; don’t worry about it.) Put it back in the bowl, cover and let rest in a warm place for 30 minutes to an hour, or until doubled in size.
Punch it down softly, then flip the dough onto a lightly floured surface and sprinkle with a little flour. Cut the dough into 10 equally sized portions and form into balls, then let them rest on a baking sheet, covered with a towel, for another 30 minutes.
Flatten each ball of dough and roll out into a thin circle and brush with the softened pork lard. Roll each up loosely, then coil so that it resembles a snail’s shell; keeping it a bit loose as the dough will rise further. Place about five ensaimadas on each baking sheet, making sure to leave enough space between them. Lightly brush with lard (if you like – we missed this step) and cover up again. Let them rise for 1-4 hours, until nice and poufy; or if you want them for the next morning, refrigerate overnight, which will slow the rise.
Preheat the oven to 390° F and bake for 14 to 16 minutes, or until golden. Dust with icing sugar and eat while still warm. Makes 10 ensaimadas.
February 15 2010 | bread and breakfast and pork | 30 Comments »
a.k.a. Kitchen Sink Strata or Whatever-Might-Go-Stinky Strata. This was my method of using up the last of the stale buns, veg, milk and eggs before we take off for the weekend, with a chunk of ham from the freezer and some grated cheese for good measure.
Strata is easy. Fill a baking dish with torn or cubed stale bread and handfuls of leftover cooked veg, meat and grated cheese. Measurements don’t matter. Whisk together eggs and milk – about 8 eggs per cup of milk – I added a big spoonful of jarred pesto, too. Pour over the bread-meat-veg mixture and top with grated cheese. Stash in the fridge overnight or through the day, and ask whomever is home before you to pop it into the oven for half an hour or forty-five, until bubbly and golden.
W took it upon himself to prepare his own dinner as we watched the Olympic opening ceremonies. He brought his plate in exactly like this. Three pieces of popcorn, copious amounts of ketchup for dipping, a pear, and a water. It reminded me of something you might see on an 80s diet plate – alongside the bunless burger patty topped with a scoop of cottage cheese and a wedge of cantaloupe. He was perfectly happy.
(My favourite part is the detached Venom claw reaching out from under the newspaper.)
We’re taking off for the weekend, heading to the BC interior (crazy, yes, in tandem with the start of the Olympics) to visit friends. (Of course y’all are coming with me.) I need to get away for a bit; Mike needs some non-crazy and sleep deprived Julie time (if there is such a thing) so our solution is to drive for six hours, stop at Tim’s and for ice cream and cow-petting on the way, and if all goes according to my master plan, get cooked for. The very best kind of therapy.
And although you may be getting tired of hearing it, I have one final Blog Aid update – we’ve reached the end of our run, wrapping it up to coincide with the end of the government’s match program (and the start of the Olympics) and I’m proud to report 1818 books sold, with a total of $47,166.00 (including the Canadian government’s matching donation) going to Haiti relief. (That’s almost 50 grand you guys! in a little over a week!) At the risk of repeating myself, I’m just totally blown away by everyone’s generosity. Thank you so much.
And of course thanks to West Canadian Graphics, Blurb and Cathryn Ironside, who spent countless hours turning the piles of recipes and photos into something we could all keep on our kitchen shelves and use to feed our families and friends. What wonderful evidence of what good can come from a single thought, when so many generous people work together to bring an idea to fruition. Thanks as well to all twenty-seven food bloggers – you know who you are – who donated recipes and images and tweeted and facebooked to help spread the word. It wouldn’t have happened without you, either.
And of course, THANKS to all of you who bought a copy! Or two. Or four.
My biggest, deepest thanks to all. There is so much good in the world, isn’t there?
One Year Ago: BBQ Buffalo Chicken Strips with Blue Cheese Dip
February 12 2010 | leftovers | 17 Comments »
What a week. I feel like I’ve been stomping out fires wearing impractical shoes. Some are effectively put out, others spread… and then there are the fireballs I keep dropping. All the while spending 3 hours of each day live on the radio, sleep deprivation and phlegm and all. Which may not always be the best idea.
Yesterday was W’s very first playschool party, for Valentine’s Day. The note home to parents instructed we bring a small snack “such as hummus and pita”. I love hummus and pita as much as the next guy, but did that mean no pink cupcakes? would sugar cookie hearts be frowned upon? Did I have to bring cut-up veggies? I spent far too much energy agonizing over what exactly it meant, deciphering and deconstructing it as if I were fifteen and it was a note from a boy. I finally settled on popcorn. Festive, right? Kids love it, right? It dodged concerns over nut, wheat, dairy and egg allergies, if there were any. W made a play for pink popcorn, and I might have gone ahead and made a batch if I had an hour and a box of raspberry Jell-O; instead I drizzled the popcorn with melted butter and olive oil and grated Parmesan cheese as it tumbled warm from the hot-air popper. I’d have added pepper, too, if the bowl weren’t destined for a room of three and four-year-olds.
The party was a mob of cuteness: preschoolers clamouring to put paper hearts into each others’ pink and red bags, then sitting in a circle in their slippers singing “You Are My Sunshine”, at which point it was all I could do to not deliquesce into a snotty, sobbing puddle in the mini wooden kitchen area. The parents, I have to point out, were a perfect splits of moms and dads – seven of each – I do love this community. And the food – most homemade, and one batch of Rice Krispie squares, made by a dad who also happens to be a chef – see? chefs make Rice Krispie squares too, with sprinkles even, when they have adorable little girls.
And while I’m documenting the few things that came out of my kitchen this week, I should probably mention the peanut butter and bacon cookies I made on Tuesday to bring to the studio. I’d heard rumours of peanut butter bacon cookies and how delicious they were. I had seen recipes that call for drippings, but I used my standby peanut butter cookie recipe (1 1/2 cups peanut butter, 1 cup white or brown sugar, 1 egg white; roll into balls, press with a fork and bake at 350F for 12ish minutes) and stirred in some chopped bacon only because a few cooked slices had found their way into my fridge when my folks emptied their fridge of perishables before leaving town. A tasty experiment – only a few people were revolted by them. And not because they looked a little scabby.
Dinners? Remember those things I used to report on a daily basis? They’ve mostly been from the freezer, although Mike did make a batch of dough while I was at work today, which I turned into a pizza at close to 7. W, fooling around, leaned in to take a lick of the crust seconds after I pulled the sheet from a 450 degree oven, pressing his chin against the hot metal; I’ve spent the last hour cuddling him and watching Shrek with a cool cloth on the red welt under his lip. Which hasn’t been a bad way to spend the evening, really. (For me – not so much for him.)
And HEY! Blog Aid! We’re in the final stretch! I’m just totally blown away by everyone’s generosity. We’ve decided to wrap up this project tomorrow – Friday February 12th – to coincide with the Canadian government’s program to match donations to aid organizations working in Haiti. So if you don’t have your copy, you have 12 more hours to order one. Or two. Or ten.
You can order your copy here.
Enormous thanks again to West Canadian Graphics and Blurb for making this happen. And of course to the lovely, generous and talented Cathryn Ironside, and all twenty-seven food bloggers who contributed photos and recipes. We’ve sold another 90 since dinnertime! Yahoo.
February 11 2010 | leftovers | 19 Comments »
So I was in Swerve last Friday – a full-page photo thanks to the exceptionally wonderful and talented Bryce Meyer, who came and hung out and talked about Nepal and new parenthood and 80s music and skateboarding when you’re old enough to be the dad of most kids at the skate park – and there really is no way to bring it up here without coming across as HEY, CHECK ME OUT! I’M IN A MAGAZINE! Which I really don’t mean to do. But the bottom line is I’ve been getting a ton of feedback on it – about half my traffic callers yesterday and today actually had no traffic complaints and really called to tell me they loved my story (which of course I love to hear – I was a total wreck last weekend trying to write this in chunks, playing literary ping pong with the editor, and work on the Blog Aid book at the same time, and when it came out in print and was distributed throughout the city in every issue of the Herald as well as assorted coffee shops and other places where people grab reading materials it was a little like the time some kid stole my underwear in the locker room and ran through the school with it). And so I thought you might like to see it.
So here it is (although it looks like it was renamed Results May Vary – *Results Not Typical is, of course, the disclaimer attached to the bottom of virtually any diet program-based weight loss success story with an asterisk.) Have a read, if you’re so inclined. (Warning: it doesn’t include any recipes. Wait, yes it does… there’s a recipe for roasted salmon over apple slaw that’s really part of another health-related piece – the story should end with: As the late, great, food writer Laurie Colwin once wrote, “It is not just the Great Works of mankind that make a culture. It’s the daily things, like what people eat and how they serve it.”) So true, don’t you think?
February 09 2010 | leftovers | 49 Comments »
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