Archive for June, 2010
Ah yes, I am Canadian. You can tell by the fact that I had poutine for breakfast. Three kinds, even.
In honour of Canada Day – which is, impossibly, coming right up – I give you poutine you can make at home. I know you’ll need a day to locate cheese curds – you can find some at Springbank Cheese (which has no connection with the Springbank outside Calgary, I’m afraid – it was named after a cow. Sorry. They are in Ontario though.) or at Say Cheese! at the Crossroads Market (both sell packets of St Hubert’s poutine mix too), or really any good cheese dealer. It must be curds though – don’t go grating mozzarella on top and defacing a Canadian icon.
I used that new French fry technique I told you about – and as they simmered themselves to golden perfection on the stovetop (pure poetry, that) I went about assembling toppings – I made some topped with pulled pork and barbecue sauce, and another topped with mushroom and Guinness gravy. A third had Montreal smoked meat hacked apart and added along with the curds. You could do a beef bourguignon poutine, or make it Italian style with marinara sauce. You could top yours with a fried egg, or a chunk of foie gras. I think a baked bean poutine is in order next – not only because I think beans are great, but because I like saying bean poutine.
So really, all you do to make your poutine is have the sauce and curds ready as your fries come out of their oil; drain them on paper towels, salt them and top right away with curds and sauce (or gravy, or whatever) so that the curds melt ever so slightly, and serve to deserving recipients. How to win friends and influence people, the Canadian way.
One Year Ago: Waffled French Toast
At the Family Kitchen: Maple Bran Waffles
June 29 2010 | cheese | 32 Comments »
This weekend’s dining experiences were brought to us by Twitter. Heading to Edmonton for Saturday night and not up to date on the best places to eat in the city, I put the call out. This new-fangled social media thing sure can come in handy, can’t it?
I was instantly answered with a flurry of #yeg dining suggestions – many for Culina, some for the patio at the Hotel MacDonald, a few suggestions for Indian, Turkish, Ethiopian and Japanese food, and some coffee shops. One for Tony’s Pizza, which a quick Google search showed to be directly between our hotel and Rexall Place, where Mike had to be to see Iron Maiden (the reason for our visit). We made haste as it was early dinner hour, and secured a spot on the patio.
It was a hit. I took advantage of the fact that our trip up to Edmontown had nothing to do with me, meaning I didn’t have to be presentable or really do any work, and so I jumped into the car in flip-flops and a t-shirt with no intention of changing. (Well. No intention of upgrading from an outfit of that nature.) Tony’s worked with my dress code – it’s an old school pasta-and-pizzeria that felt instantly comfortable. It was a full house, and most tables were occupied by families who you could tell were regulars. I left wanting a big plate of garlicky pasta, and to eat it at a long table of verging-on-rowdy friends and family with voracious appetites.
We ordered a classic New York style pie (extra large and thin, with spicy tomato sauce and cheese) and Sal’s Deluxe (prosciutto, capicollo, marinated tomatoes and bocconcini) and had more than enough to bring back to the hotel room for breakfast and lunch.
Sal himself was in the kitchen flipping dough high and wide into the air, the way you don’t see Italian pizzeria cooks do anymore, and W was so in awe that Sal (at least I think it was Sal – everyone in the kitchen seemed to be calling someone Sal, so we’ll assume it was him) invited W to stay and watch through an open window, within 4-year-old arms’ reach, as he patted, tossed and topped the dough and slid it into a hot oven to blister. He even gave W a little wad of dough to toss about himself. He was in heaven.
And so was I, on the other side of the glass door, sitting on the patio drinking a $4 glass of house red and eating wide slices of New York-style pizza I could fold in half and eat.
This morning, after what was supposed to be a good old-fashioned sleep in (W was up no later than 6:20, riling us to get up already and go to the pool!) we went to Culina Mill Creek for brunch, a teeny spot in the Old Strathcona district with wood chairs, wine bottles filled with cold water and lots of sunlight filtered through gauzy curtains.
We started with grilled cornbread and blueberry butter (wouldn’t you?) and followed with an egg, bacon, tomato and edam panini (me), mushroom frittata with spicy braised bacon (Mike) and eggs in a creamy basil sauce topped with crispy bacon (our friend Jen).
They made W a single egg, over-easy. I can’t wait to go back for dinner. Next door, buffered by a wee barber shop, is a new wine bar and charcuterie called Bibo, owned by the same great people I met this morning, that may warrant some further research too.
Sorry if this is reading a little like a junior high school book report – something has decided to take over my head/throat/esophageal area and render me at least partially useless, or at least tired and fuzzy-headed. More so than usual, that is. I’ll stop typing and attempt to sleep it off now.
June 27 2010 | eating out | 9 Comments »
What’s the very best thing about a strawberry-rhubarb pie? The ice cream. It’s hardly worth eating without, in my books. In fact, my scoop is, if I have the opportunity, replenished several times as I work my way through a warm slice.
So I thought, as I chopped and bagged for the freezer a load of stalks from Mike’s mom’s back yard, that it might go very nicely indeed directly into a batch of ice cream. It would have to be cooked down though, and sweetened slightly. Roasted, even.
Vegetables should not have exclusivity in the roasting department – the high heat softens fruit and caramelizes their juices, in this case leaving chewy, almost-candied chunks of rhubarb studded throughout the palest of pink ice creams. Even my rhubarb-hating sister liked it.
Again, the simplest recipe: I chopped as many stalks as you see here, scattered the lot with sugar (I wish I had lined the pan with foil or parchment first) and roasted it at 400F for about 20 minutes, until all was soft and the juices were dark and sticky. I scraped it off into a bowl and stuck it in the fridge until it was cold, then stirred it into 2 cups of cream (half heavy, half half & half) and 1/3 cup sugar. (I went by the success of this ultra-easy strawberry ice cream. You could, if you wanted to, combine strawberries and rhubarb – that just might be next on my must-make list.)
I apologize for my apparent inability to photograph ice cream. It could be my photography skills, but is more likely that I’m temporarily blinded by desperation in the presence of such perfectly soft, barely frozen, freshly churned cream. Can you really blame me?
I should mention too how nice it is some days to live next door to a chef. He dropped off this spicy cold gazpacho with a container of roughly chopped chile-spiked and olive-oily shrimp to put on top. I added a chopped avocado, because it was there in the fruit bowl and needed to be eaten. I may try to beg the recipe out of him. It was smoother than most gazpachos, but although there were no chunks, it was thick enough to allow the shrimp and avocado to sit on top without sinking. I forgot how much I love gazpacho, especially when it’s hot outside. Last time I made some was a few years ago, a roasted veg gazpacho from Bon Appétit.
One Year Ago: Strawberry-Rhubarb Cobbler Cake
At the Family Kitchen: Lemon Rhubarb Drop Scones
June 25 2010 | leftovers | 14 Comments »
So hey, yes, I’m still here. It seems we have some catching up to do. The past week has been more of a blur than usual – I’m happy to announce though that the as-yet-still-unnamed bean book has been jettisoned off to the publisher. I’m pretty sure we got everything in there. We hit send just after 11 on Monday night, having been up since 4 am to take over traffic duties on the Eyeopener that morning, and having accidentally, prematurely and sleep-deprivedly sent an incomplete manuscript about six hours earlier. I’ll spare you the details of those six hours. I’m not sure I remember them anyway.
At some point my friend and neighbour brought over a bag of cheese buns from Glamorgan Bakery, just because. Bless her.
Yesterday morning on CBC we talked about South African street food, which is something I admittedly knew very little about – it turns out South Africa is quite known for their street vendors, so it’s a particular shame that they aren’t allowed to sell their wares within a 100 meter radius of the soccer stadiums. (World Cup official sponsors have exclusive rights – that’s the way it tends to work. Here in Calgary, locally-produced MacKays ice cream is finally making it onto the Stampede grounds (they’ll be in Weadickville) for the first time, having not been able to get on in the past because Breyers had an exclusive contract. Now if they could only get into Heritage Park…)
Food prepared and sold from carts and catering trucks is really becoming the new thing, especially in larger cities in the US – even out in BC – I may have to hit the road and do some research, don’t you think? LA in particular is a hotbed for food trucks, but recently the first bustaurant opened – a converted double decker bus – selling South African street food.
Sosatie (pronounced: ‘soss-sartie’) is a kind of grilled meat on a stick – similar to satay – it fits right in with the Southern African love of barbecue (referred to as “braai”). I came across this recipe made with marinated chunks of pork tenderloin and chunks of lamb, alternating with bacon pieces and whole dried apricots. I swapped chicken thighs for the lamb, and streamlined the whole marination process. Everyone went mad for them. The marinade (which is then cooked down and brushed on as they cook on the grill) seems involved, but isn’t really.
Pork and Chicken Sosatie with Apricots & Onions
Africa’s version of barbecued meat on a stick goes by the Afrikaans name sosatie. It’s great made with pork and chicken thighs, pork and lamb, or just chicken, pork or lamb. Adapted from Bon Appétit.
1 pork tenderloin, cut into 1-inch cubes
1 lb skinless, boneless chicken thighs, cut into 1-inch cubes
3 Tbsp (packed) dark brown sugar, divided
1 Tbsp plus 1/2 tsp curry powder
2 tsp coriander seeds (optional)
1 tsp salt
2 large onions, peeled
2 cups dried apricots
1 1/2 cups dry red wine
1/2 cup red wine vinegar
1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons whipping cream
1/4 cup olive oil
5 bacon slices, cut crosswise into 1-inch pieces
2 Tbsp butter
2 Tbsp apricot preserves or marmalade
canola oil, for cooking
Put the pork and lamb in a large bowl; mix 2 tablespoons brown sugar, 1 tablespoon curry powder, the coriander and salt in a small bowl; sprinkle overtop and stir. Slice 1 onion and add to the bowl with apricots, red wine, vinegar, 1/2 cup whipping cream and oil; stir until well combined. Refrigerate for an hour, or up to 24 hours.
Cut the remaining onion in half crosswise, then cut each half into quarters. Separate quarters into individual onion layers; set aside. Place large fine-mesh strainer over large saucepan. Add meat mixture to strainer and allow marinade to drain into saucepan.
Alternate meat cubes, marinated dried apricots, onion pieces, and bacon pieces on metal or soaked bamboo skewers, beginning and ending with meat.
Boil the marinade in saucepan until reduced to generous 1 1/4 cups, about 6 minutes. Whisk in butter, apricot preserves, remaining 1 tablespoon brown sugar, 1/2 teaspoon curry powder, and 2 tablespoons whipping cream. Continue boiling sauce until thickened to sauce consistency, about 2 minutes. Season sauce to taste with salt and pepper. Transfer 1/2 cup sauce to small bowl and reserve for basting kebabs during grilling. Leave remaining sauce in saucepan and set aside for serving.
Prepare barbecue to medium-high heat and brush the grill rack with oil. Grill kebabs 4 minutes, basting with reserved 1/2 cup sauce. Continue grilling kebabs until browned and cooked medium-rare, turning occasionally, 4-5 minutes longer. Meanwhile, place saucepan with remaining sauce on 1 side of grill to rewarm. Transfer kebabs to platter. Brush warm sauce over kebabs and serve.
June 23 2010 | on the grill | 22 Comments »
Sorry guys, I’ve sort of let you slip through the cracks these past few days. We’ve been going flat-out since Friday, when we all went up to Canmore to do a story – Friday night we baked for the bake sale at Market Collective (thanks to Vincci‘s idea and organization we collectively raised $1200 for Meals on Wheels!), which was Saturday. Sunday was Ramsay Rocks, which we were there setting up first thing in the morning, and as I got to emcee, I was there for the entire day. We went straight from there to my parents’ house for my Dad’s birthday dinner – homemade pizza, salad, cherry tomatoes and wee bocconcini in balsamic vinaigrette with torn basil.
Although he’s lactose intolerant, my dad loves cheesecake so that he requested one. I hadn’t baked a cheesecake in ages, but pulled out my old standby – the cheesecake from my battered Canadian Living Cookbook (the one with the blue cover – mine has almost disconnected itself from the rest of the book). Yum.
It hadn’t occurred to me to make a cheesecake for a very long while, but sitting on the patio eating one topped with blueberries made it feel finally like summer was actually here. (The fact that it was summer solstice may have helped.) There are essentially two types of cheesecake: those you bake and those you don’t. The unbaked ones usually get their structure from gelatin and firm up in the fridge. Baked cheesecakes have a different texture altogether; they are denser and cheesier, but are just as easy to make. Regular cream cheese produces the creamiest results, but light cream cheese works very well too. Fat free cream cheese just doesn’t cut it. The key to a nice, creamy cheesecake is to not overbake it – it should be slightly jiggly in the middle when you take it from the oven. To keep the top from cracking, some spray water into the oven or toss a few ice cubes onto the bottom of the oven to add humidity as it bakes; I keep the temperature low and run a thin knife around the edge as soon as it comes out, then leave it to cool with the sides of the springform pan still intact – don’t take the ring off until your cake is completely cool. Chilled, even.
Cheesecake
Slices of plain cheesecake can be dressed up with anything you can think of: fresh berries tossed with a little sugar, thawed frozen berries in syrup, caramel sauce, or a drizzle of bottled chocolate sauce, as is or spiked with 1-2 Tbsp. Kahlua.
Crust:
1 cup graham cracker crumbs or chocolate wafer crumbs
3 Tbsp. butter
2 Tbsp. sugar (white or brown – optional)
Filling:
1 1/2 lb. (three 8 oz./250 g packages) cream cheese, regular or light, or a combination
1 cup sugar
3 Tbsp. all-purpose flour
grated zest of 1 lemon (optional)
2 Tbsp. lemon juice
1 tsp. vanilla
3 large eggs
Preheat the oven to 350°F.
To make the crust, combine the graham crumbs, butter, and sugar and press the mixture into the bottom of a 9-inch springform pan that has been sprayed lightly with nonstick spray. Bake the crust for 10 minutes, then set it aside. Turn the oven up to 425°F.
To make the filling, beat the cream cheese in a large bowl with an electric mixer until smooth. Add the sugar, flour, lemon zest, lemon juice, and vanilla and beat it again, just until it’s smooth. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each one. Pour the batter over the crust.
Bake the cheesecake for 10 minutes, then reduce the heat to 250°F and continue to bake for another 30-35 minutes. You can tell when the cheesecake is done when it’s barely firm around the edges and the center is just slightly jiggly. It will firm up as it cools. Immediately run a thin knife around the edge to loosen it from the pan, but allow it to cool completely and then refrigerate it for at least an hour before you remove the sides of the springform pan.
June 22 2010 | cake and dessert | 15 Comments »
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