Food Is Good

On the move...click to see our new blog site

2011-07-26T23:28:00.004-04:00

a new modern look for food is good. see you on the other side.

Kelly.

Pickles for Normal People

2011-07-11T17:24:00.000-04:00

Pickled Baby Carrots, Sweet and Spicy Fennel Spears & Tarragon Cucumbers

I know what you're thinking. You saw the word "pickles" and immediately saw visions of a sweltering kitchen, and a sweating, slave-like person (you) in a head to toe apron, dwarfed by giant pots, filling hundreds of jars so that the family will make it through the winter without starving.

Take a deep breath.

Pickles, and the making of them, is fun. Really. We all know how beautiful they are, and how a crisp, salty-sweet pickle can whet the appetite. But if you have never tried making them, don't be intimidated! Pickling has come a long way from giant vats of chili sauce and recipes made for families of ten. Innovative home canners are experimenting with simpler recipes, using interesting ingredients, and in smaller batches. The best recipes are ones that be made a jar or two at a time, one of a kind little gems made with whatever is in season and that you like. Sweet and tangy baby carrots. Tiny golden beets. Crisp tarragon cucumbers.

Ice cold from the fridge, they are a perfect before-supper snack. They are terrific with some soft, mild cheeses and sweet-ish cocktails. They are great in salads and nothing is better with charcuterie than tiny cornichons or some pickled shallots.

Here is a great all purpose recipe that works especially well with cucumbers, but can also be used to pickle slender green beans, shallots, or carrots. This makes enough brine for 2/500ml jars. If you only want to make one, cut it in half. More? Double or triple it. You don't even need a calculator. Apron optional.

Pickle This!

1 1/2 cups cider vinegar
1 1/2 cups water
3 tsp. kosher salt
2 tsp sugar

Bring the water and vinegar to a boil. Sterilize your jars (15 minutes in a 250F oven will do) and boil your two-piece rings and lids for 5 minutes. Pack the hot jars with prepared vegetables (wash cucumbers and slice or quarter. Peel baby carrots. Trim beans) Add sprigs of fresh herbs and dried spices of your choice. To each jar, add 1 1/2 tsp of salt, and 1 tsp, sugar. Fill to 1/4" from top with hot brine. Top with lids, then the screw band. Allow to cool. Lids will "pop" when they are sealed, and will invert. If any don't seal, simply store in the fridge. The rest can go in your pantry.

That's it. This brine is strong enough that you won't need to process in a boiling water bath. I have been making this recipe for 15 years and have never had a spoiled jar.

Some ideas to try with this recipe:

baby carrots-thyme sprigs-garlic cloves-peppercorns
quartered cucumbers-tiny dried pequin peppers-peeled garlic cloves-fennel seed-fennel sprigs
thickly sliced cucumbers-sprigs of fresh tarragon-whole peppercorns
french filet beans-dill sprigs-chili flakes
peeled shallots-rosemary-pink peppercorns
tiny golden beets-1 tbsp. honey-lemon thyme

The Beautiful Summer Salad

2011-07-06T10:11:00.001-04:00


The find: Assorted greens, herbs, and one radish.

An uber-fresh and recipe-free summer salad. If there is a better reason to grow your own vegetables, I can't think of it. I never know what I'm going to find that is ready, or what dish will unfold when I visit my potager. Yesterday I foraged around the beds and found exactly one Red Meat Radish (it's been a slow growing season) purple and Savoy Cabbage, Romaine and Red Leaf Lettuces, Italian Parsley, fresh peas, and Nasturtium leaves.

I like to keep some Asian dumplings, or potstickers, in my freezer. They make great little appetizers when you invite guests at the last minute (much better than dumping a bag of chips into a bowl) and make a delicious and unexpected salad addition. I've always liked the juxtaposition of warm and cold elements in a salad, so when these are finished cooking (a quick pan-fry followed by a splash of water to steam them, hence the term "potsticker") I let them cool a little before laying them on a finished mixed salad of crunchy, soft, peppery, and mild elements. If I'm feeling ambitious I make the dumplings from scratch, but for $3.50 a dozen, you can pick up some frozen ones at the St. Jacob's Market.

I made a quick dressing of soy sauce, rice vinegar, sesame oil, canola, and chives, and put it all together with some sliced organic celery, grapefruit sections, toasted brown sesame seeds, and some onions I sliced thin, dusted in flour, and crisped up in a pan with a little oil. The result was a very spontaneous and delicious supper. Simple food, put together with what is seasonal and on hand, is a perfect way to eat all year long.


The final dish: Vegetarian Potsticker Salad with Sesame Dressing.

A Refreshing Summer Drink

2011-06-27T14:33:00.001-04:00

I've just returned from two weeks out West and a visit to Grasslands National Park in lovely Saskatchewan. The best thing about the trip? The huge expanse of blue sky on the prairies. Summer is wrapped up in that sky, and the clear sun and puffy white clouds completed the picture.

Now that I'm back, the garden is overflowing and I'm excited about picking salads from the garden and dining al fresco under my converted drive-shed. Hot summer nights dining outside call for something refreshing. We should all drink more water, especially in hot weather, but if you're like me, you may find plain water harsh and a little hard to get down.

I first enjoyed cucumber water while having my nails done at Holt Renfrew. Those were in the days when I actually had nails, and had them done on a semi-regular basis. I may live simpler now, but I always remembered the subtle flavour a slice of cucumber gave to that ice cold water. I keep empty French lemonade bottles in my fridge filled with cold water at all times, then just empty them into a pitcher. Add thinly sliced cucumber and serve.

A pitcher of clear water on your table is simple and beautiful, and cucumber is only one way to add a little flavour to summer water. Try a handful of mint or lemon balm, some slices of grapefruit, a sprig of cilantro, or a combination of any of these. Serve ice water in a beautiful, yet inexpensive, thin-rimmed French glass, like the ones shown here.

It's a simple pleasure that you may find becomes a regular part of your summer table.

Pesto-Fest Is a Win-Win Opportunity

2011-05-17T16:11:00.006-04:00

It was only a little while ago I wrote about Garlic Mustard, an invasive species that also happens to be edible and delicious.

This Sunday May 22nd, is the United Nations' International Biodiversity Day, marked by events locally and globally to promote and preserve diversity of species, and in 2011, the focus is on forest biodiversity.

One way that we protect our local biodiversity is through the control of invasive species. Whether brought here by Europeans during times of migration or by accident through careless importing, invasive species threaten native plants and trees through their voracious appetites for resources. They are usually fast growing and spreading, choking out water and nutrients much needed plants needing longer to become established. One of these species is Garlic Mustard.

In a unique and fun way to celebrate Biodiversity Day, Crawford Lake Conservation Area will be hosting PestoFest. On Sunday between 10am and 4pm, come out with your gloves and trowels, learn how to identify and eradicate Garlic Mustard from the forests of Crawford Lake, and take the knowledge back home to remove it properly from your own garden. Instead of throwing it into the compost heap, make it into something delicious; Garlic Mustard Pesto. There will be sampling and recipes, a free BBQ for volunteers, and admission to the park is free for those who register.

I love this sort of win-win opportunity to solve a problem with a creative and practical solution. It's also fantastic opportunity to start the hiking season in one of the more beautiful conservations areas with stunning views from the Niagara Escarpment.

For more information on PestoFest

Website: http://www.conservationhalton.on.ca/events.cfm?itemid=9973
Phone: 905 854 0234
E-mail: crawlake (at) hrca.on.ca

For More information on International Biodiversity Day, visit the Convention on Biological Diversity Website:

http://www.cbd.int/idb/

Spring In My Step

2011-05-04T11:15:00.002-04:00

The sun is out! I'm going to make this short today, because I plan on getting out there and planting some of these:

Pretty & Pink: Red Meat Radishes

I love radishes of any kind. These are slightly sweet and crisp, and that colour! Very sexy.

I think a bowl of these in some ice water on the kitchen table will make a great snack. Or sliced paper-thin with bread and butter and a cup of tea.

Happy Wednesday and Happy Spring.

10 Little Things To Have On Hand

2011-05-03T11:27:00.001-04:00

Well-Stocked.
Photo: Kelly Hughes

Shocking as it may seem, it's raining. Again. I bought some seeds yesterday but unless things change drastically, and the dismal grey as far as the eye can see somehow disperses, there's no way I'm going to get out to plant them today. Besides, traipsing about the beds when it is wet compacts the soil and spreads diseases around. So it's a good day to stay inside and have a look at the pantry.

On Saturday I attended a get-together of some old friends from high school. Over a beer (or was it two?) I had a conversation with a very busy and inspiring lady. She and her partner both work, and have two beautiful boys, one of which faces a host of physical challenges that see his parents outlaying more time and energy in one day than most of us do in a month. I liked that she laughed when she talked about cooking at their house, and that she made no apologies for a previous night's dinner of pigs in a blanket! And why should she? Cooking from scratch can be intimidating and difficult when you have lots of time to devote to it. Having a background in food and planning really helps in my own life (it's busy, but nothing like hers), but for many people, cooking from scratch is just another job in the day's long list.

Over the years I have found one thing that really helps me is to always have certain foods on hand. You already know what your family likes to eat. In our house, I have a go-to list of about 25 recipes that are always in the back of my mind, and my pantry (and fridge, and freezer) reflects that. (All these recipes will be available in an upcoming cookbook-stay tuned!))

The key is to look at what you like to eat, identify those items you keep running to the store to get, or those that need some advance preparation, and put those aside. With everything on hand, cooking from scratch doesn't seem so hard anymore.

10 Little Ingredients To Have On Hand To Make Cooking Easy and Relatively Painless and Maybe Even Fun

1. Chickpeas. Canned, or if you buy dried (way more economical, and less salt) cook them and freeze in 2 cup portions. Hummus with torn pitas or veggies makes an easy after school snack. Spread it on wraps and top with veggies for lunch. Add chickpeas to pasta for instant protein. Make 30 Minute Tomato Chickpea Soup for dinner. Put them on a green salad or in a pasta salad.

2. 10"Wraps or Tortillas. Scramble some eggs, brown a leftover cooked potato and wrap with cheese and salsa for breakfast burritos. Saute some mushrooms and leeks and fold with some old cheddar for quesadillas. Spread with peanut butter and wrap a banana, then slice for an after-school snack. Spread with hummus, or pesto mayo, add sliced cucumbers, tomato, shredded carrots, and sprouts for a yummy lunch. I always keep two packages on hand. Freezes well.

3. Canned Tomatoes. Ok, I can my own, but you don't have to. Buy a case of 12, good-quality whole tomatoes (not diced or pureed). Use to make a large batch of for No-Dice Oven Roasted Tomato Sauce. Make Tomato Chickpea Soup. Roast whole and use as a side dish with Kelly's Killer Mac and Cheese. Make Chickpea Chili. Chop a can and quickly cook with lots of garlic and olive oil, a handful of chopped greens (see below) and toss with cooked pasta or white beans, top with shaved Parmesan. Making a big batch of the No-Dice Tomato Sauce, above, and freezing gives you options too, for pizza or pasta or chicken/eggplant Parmesan when you're in a hurry.

4. Plain yogurt. Mediterrano brand by Liberte is my favourite. I buy full-fat, but then we don't eat meat so I'm ok with that. Instead of buying sour cream or buttermilk, I just buy yogurt and use it interchangeably. Top with some granola and honey for a quick breakfast. Mix with tahini and use as a spread on the wraps, or in falafel. Stir in chopped parsley, salt, pepper, and lemon juice as a quick sauce for baked fish. Put in the blender with some fresh or frozen fruit for breakfast smoothies. Use for baking, in muffins, and Lemon Yogurt Loaf Cake, or in pancakes. Strain overnight and stir in fresh herbs, chopped garlic, salt, and pepper to spread on bagels or layer with veggies in a sandwich.

5. Greens. Spinach, Arugula, Rapini, Swiss Chard, Kale, Parsley. You don't need them all at once, but if you have a bunch of greens, you're getting a ridiculously nutritious hit and lots of versatility. Arugula makes a wicked salad (roast some butternut squash, add toasted pecans, and blue cheese) or pesto, or pizza topping. Saute rapini with garlic and olive oil, and a bit of spicy vegetarian or regular sausage, and serve over pasta or soft polenta. Chop any greens finely and add at the end of cooking to soups. Wrap up in sandwiches. Saute with a can of the tomatoes, garlic, some spice blend and the chickpeas, and serve with rice for a quick healthy dinner. Kale is delicious raw in a big salad (add cooked green beans, baby potatoes, oven roasted tomatoes, and a creamy dressing made with the yogurt.)

6. Tofu. Oktahini mixture along with cucumber, sprouts, and tomato) or slice and toss over a salad with cooked beets, oranges, sunflower seeds, and sesame dressing. For Tofu Scramble, saute with red onion, peppers, and a bit of Cajun spices, and top with shredded cheese for breakfast, or put it in the wraps.

7. These 5 Vegetables: Onions, Celery, Carrots, Garlic, and Peppers. If you have these on hand, even with no other vegetables in the house, you can make anything. Make vegetable soup (throw in the chickpeas, diced tomatoes, and the greens) Veggies and Dip (take 15 minutes after you buy them and cut into sticks for the fridge; use the hummus, or the yogurt). Shred carrots and celery for wraps. Slice onions and peppers thinly and saute with some of the tofu (or chicken) and some chili powder, then put in the wraps for fajitas. Make Carrot Soup. Make garlic confit. Make a stir fry (with the tofu or meat, greens, and some rice). *Tip: Wrap celery in damp paper towel, then in foil. It will stay crisp for weeks.

8. Potatoes. Cheap, delicious, and versatile. Start with potato soup. Make Lacy Potato Latkes for breakfast, lunch, or dinner (serve with the yogurt/parsley/lemon mixture). Make a big batch of potato salad (use the carrots, celery, and onions, and the parsley) and eat for dinner with some grilled fish one day, for lunch the next. Cook some ahead and keep in the fridge for cubing cold on salad, or crisping up in a non-stick pan for breakfast. Mash with the garlic confit and a spoon of the yogurt. Buy a cauliflower and make aloo gobi.

9. Cheese. Way back when, the cheese people had a slogan: "When You've Got Cheese, You've Got Choice." I wish I had come up with that, because it is so bang-on. Generally I keep on hand a piece of medium cheddar (for quesadillas, omelets, sandwiches); feta (crumbled on salads or slices with bread, olive oil, and tomato) mozzarella (for pizza and panini) and some good-quality Parmesan or Romano (for pasta, making pestos, and shredded over soups)

10. Eggs. Another quick and incredibly versatile protein to have on hand. My chickens keep me well-stocked, but one or two cage-free dozens in your fridge will take you far. Fried eggs and tomato on toast, or breakfast burritos for breakfast. Frittata and omelets for lunch. A cold omelet in a wrap with some diced tomato and sprouts makes a great lunchbox item. Use with the cold diced potatoes and some smoked paprika for a Spanish Tortilla. Make Bread Pudding for breakfast and lunch snacks, or a savoury one for lunch or dinner (use the sauteed spinach, onions, and the shredded cheese).

10 Little Things #2-Oven Roasted Tomatoes

2011-05-02T11:02:00.001-04:00

Sexy Oven-Roasted Tomatoes.
Sweet, concentrated flavour any time of year.Photo: Kelly Hughes

I agree, it is a little early to be talking about tomatoes. A few little hothouse varieties are starting to pop up in the markets, although nothing can really come close to a sun-warmed beauty off the vine. Or can it?

Roasting tomatoes does something wondrous. Take an ordinary tomato, some San Marzanos work wonderfully but any tomato will do. Even cherry or grape tomatoes. Now slice them in half, and toss in a bowl with some olive oil, salt, and pepper. Place on a parchment-lined baking sheet, cut side up, and place in a 450F oven for 10 minutes. Reduce the heat to 300F and roast ever-so-slowly, for an hour or more, depending on the size. When they are done, they will be slightly wrinkled, a little brown, but still fleshy and juicy, and not as dry as a sun dried tomato.

When you taste one, you will know what I'm talking about. Rich, velvety, with intense tomato flavour that is only rivalled by summer heirlooms in season.

These are so versatile that I could give you 100 things to do with these. Here are 10. You will no doubt find many more uses in your own kitchen. Please comment-I would love to hear your ideas.

10 Uses For Oven Roasted Tomatoes

1. As a condiment, for everything from macaroni and cheese to roast chicken, it brings a hit of brightness to the richness of the cheese and the simplicity of the chicken. Simply toss a few on the side;

2. Toast some baguette slices. Drizzle with olive oil, then top with some good cheese (feta, buffalo mozzarella, grilled halloumi), a roasted tomato, and a few drops of aged balsamic. Food at it's best.

3. Puree in the food processor or blender with a little olive oil and use the resulting rich sauce on pizza, pasta, sandwiches (roasted eggplant with provolone and arugula is great).

4. Add to an antipasto platter, along with some cured meats, Marcona almonds, olives, grissini, and roasted peppers for an easy snack when visitors drop by;

5. Use instead of fresh tomatoes in a Greek salad. It takes this simple dish to new heights.

6. For oven-roasted tomato pesto. Whiz in the blender with the usual suspects....fresh basil, pine nuts, garlic, and a bit of cheese. Drizzle in some olive oil, and toss with hot pasta. Mix equal parts with mayo for a wicked sandwich spread;

7. In salsa. Toss some chunks of onion, whole garlic, and jalapenos in a dry, hot pan to char. Whiz in food processor with a handful of oven-roasted tomatoes, a squeeze of lime juice, and salt. Finish with chopped cilantro or parsley. Great with quesadillas or drizzled over a cheese omelet;

8. When you are making grilled cheese, tuck a few oven roasted tomatoes inside before grilling. Especially great with old cheddar;

9. Slice thinly and scatter over fish fillets. Place fillets on a parchment-lined baking sheet, season with salt and pepper, and tomatoes. Bake at 450F for 10 minutes, or until cooked through. Try halibut, arctic char, or trout. Also see fish en papillotte, here;

10. Make a little tomato tart: Line a pan with puff pastry (frozen is fine!) or make your own savoury pie pastry, line a tart tin. Bake for 15 minutes in a 350F oven. Remove from oven and spread with pesto. Add tomatoes, and shredded Fontina cheese, then bake for 30 minutes longer.

10 Little Things #1: Garlic Confit

2011-04-28T00:00:00.000-04:00

Good morning Foogers,

Today is the super-exciting world premiere of 10 Little Things. This one is so great and so simple, I thought it would make a great choice to illustrate what this is all about. Each day I'll bring you something so simple and easy but so great and versatile that you'll probably find a hundred ways to use it, but I'll start you off with 10.

When made into confit, garlic becomes mellow and
meltingly tender.

Garlic Confit is today's very easy, inexpensive and blissfully delicious gem. Confit refers to the technique of cooking an item in fat of some kind. Duck Confit is of course duck legs slowly cooked in duck fat. Garlic confit is whole, peeled cloves of garlic cooked in oil. Roasted garlic is great, but garlic confit is even better. Why? Because you get all the soft, sweet, mellow golden-roasty tasting loveliness of slow-cooked garlic, but you are also left with all the tasty oil that it is cooked in to use in myriad ways. We'll start with the recipe.

Garlic Confit

-2 cups of whole peeled garlic cloves. (If you can find them already peeled, and it isn't GMO or imported thousands of miles from Asia, by all means do so. Peeling garlic is also a great job for grounded children.)
-1 cup olive oil
-1/2 cup canola oil
-zest of one lemon
-3 to 4 sprigs fresh thyme
-1 bay leaf

Preheat oven to 350F. Place peeled garlic in a glass dish (a loaf pan works well). Cover with the oils, and add the zest, thyme, and bay leaf. Cover pan with foil. Place in oven and bake for 1 hour, or until the cloves are soft and golden. Remove from oven and allow to sit at room temperature until cooled. Remove and discard thyme branches.

Now the fun part.

10 Little Things to Do with Garlic Confit

1. Mash the cloves in with potatoes, a scraping of fresh nutmeg, and butter;
2. Toss with hot pasta, fresh tomatoes cut into chunks, a drizzle of the garlic oil, lots of chopped parsley, and fresh Romano;
3. Put the whole cloves on pizza, along with artichokes and fresh arugula;
4. Use the oil to saute fresh rapini, toss with pine nuts and a few of the cloves. Serve with polenta;
5. Mash the cloves into a paste. Press into a pretty ramekin and serve with fresh bread and olives;
6. Drizzle the oil over tomatoes, roast in the oven, and serve as a condiment with mac and cheese;
7. Use instead of raw garlic in hummus and baba ghanouj
8. Use the mashed cloves spread on panini. Try grilled eggplant, basil leaves, and provolone.
9. Use cloves as a garnish for soups, especially creamy potato or celeriac purees. Drizzle the oil too.
10. Garlic Confit Vinaigrette. Use a mortar and pestle to mash a few cloves with a small amount of Dijon mustard, a splash of vinegar, and a squeeze of lemon. Stir while drizzling in some of the garlic oil. Season with salt and pepper. Serve with a simple frisee salad.

Once you've tried this, you may find it's one of those staples you just can't live without.

Happy Thursday,
Kelly.

10 Little Things

2011-04-27T12:27:00.005-04:00

Faded Berries
Photo: Kelly Hughes

Today, so far:

1. Checked newspaper for weather report. Began process of denial.

2. Checked The Weather Network. Saw something about thunderstorms. 3. Ate some toast. Fed the chickens.

4. Ignored all weather information, except for the part that said "Periods of sun. 20 degrees C."

5. Made a fresh pot of coffee. Drank some, whilst dreaming of my upcoming day in the lettuce bed.

6. Hightailed it to the nursery and bought Red Sails Lettuce, bunching onions, Savoy Cabbage, Red Cabbages, and Frisee seedlings.

7. Saw a brief moment of sunshine. Scoffed audibly to myself at the unreliability and outright deceit of all those in the weather forecasting racket. Waved to my hipster mailman. Skipped gaily to the garden shed.

8. Donned Wellies and gloves. Tied on cute new gardening apron.

9. Opened the screen door to the garden. Jumped out of my skin at a bone-shattering clap of thunder.

10. Removed Wellies, gloves and apron. Poured out cold coffee. Moved on to the hard stuff.

I was warned, and have no one to blame but myself and the fickle unpredictability of April.

Instead of gardening, or heavy drinking, let's try something else. A new series on the Food Is Good blog, entitled "10 Little Things". When it comes to food, growing it, cooking it, preserving it, and eating it, things should be kept interesting enough to be delicious and pleasurable, but simple enough so that no part of it turns to drudgery.

Like any relationship, our long-term commitment to food can get a tad stale. So over the next several posts, 10 Little Things will help you grow more interesting food, cook deliciously and economically, choose ingredients for taste and pleasure, and share gloriously simple dishes with charm and enjoyment with your friends, family and neighbours. Changing the way we view food does not have to be a looming challenge. With a few little changes here and there, it's easy to enjoy cooking and eating.

I see the sun is back out, and maybe this time for more than 10 little minutes. Have a delicious day!

Weeds to Riches

2011-04-26T15:21:00.009-04:00

You may not know the name, but you probably know what it looks like.

Garlic Mustard is an invasive plant, AKA a pesky weed that grows everywhere. In parks, along waterways, and most likely in your garden, you have probably seen it. It looks like this:

A robust patch of garlic mustard.
It may be an invasive weed, but it's also free food and an
excellent source of vitamin C

In the 19th century, traveling Brits brought Garlic Mustard here to use as a medicinal plant-it is very high in Vitamin C. As with most non-indigenous species it wreaks havoc with the natural landscape choking out native plants and taking much needed resources from other slower-growing plants with it's rapid, rambling growth habit. What I haven't mentioned yet, is that it is edible and delicious.

Alexis Burnett is a naturalist, field-guide, tracker, and edible plant specialist. Through his company, Earth Tracks, www.earthtracks.ca he lectures on the use and identification of edible and medicinal plants. I recently heard him speak to the Guelph Field Naturalists about edible plants, and this was one of them. It smells lightly of garlic and has a peppery taste. To use, add leaves fresh to salads, mixing with other greens, or steam lightly and use as you would arugula or spinach. Or make this:

Invasive Pest-O

4 packed cups washed garlic mustard leaves

1 cup fresh basil leaves

4 cloves garlic, peeled

1/4 cup fresh Parmesan cheese

2 tbsp. toasted pine nuts or almonds

Salt and pepper

Extra virgin olive oil

In a food processor or blender, roughly chop garlic mustard, basil, garlic, cheese, nuts, and salt and pepper to taste. Drizzle in enough olive oil to make a smooth paste, scraping down the sides with a rubber spatula as needed. Spoon into a clean jar and use within three days, or freeze for one month.

Serve tossed with hot long pasta (linguine or spaghettini works well), grilled in a sandwich with buffalo mozzarella and sun dried tomatoes, or use as a dip for crusty bread before dinner.

Pretty Invasive:Garlic Mustard
is a non-native species.
Harvesting it for food, taproot and all,
will help curb its spread in natural areas.

*If you live in the Guelph area and are looking to harvest some nutritious Garlic Mustard, there is quite a stash of this in Howitt Park on the Silver Creek in Guelph (among other places). You can't over harvest this, so go nuts. And while you're harvesting, pull it out by the long (also edible) taproot, if you can manage it! This will help deter it from spreading further.

What's The Big Idea?

2011-04-25T09:32:00.002-04:00

Lately there has been a lot of visibility given to articles about the future of our food system-if it can be called that. I suppose even a dysfunctional system is a system nonetheless. Kind of like the stack of papers on my desk being called a "filing system". As time goes by I find myself less confident about what someone else will do for me and more concerned with taking care of myself. I want to know that if the world's agriculture market collapses I have a back-up plan for myself and those in my little tribe. I have been making increasingly fewer trips to the grocery store, instead scoping out every possible means of procuring food as close to home as possible. I live walking distance to the market, and of course, have a vegetable garden. I'm convinced that in a world where every person's system for living is as different as people on the planet, it is virtually impossible for everyone to have their food needs met in the same way. So I've come up with a big idea that will work for me: to transform my entire property into an edible landscape.

Not my Potager.
A great example, courtesy of Mr. Brown Thumb.

However lofty that sounds, the change will not be a demonstration of shock-and-awe, but a slow unfurling, like a new spring fiddlehead. This year I will devote a conservative 30% of my property into space for growing food. So far the closest thing to a blitz was yesterday's removal of a very beautiful-but sadly inedible-patch of lily-of-the-valley in preparation for a shady bed to grow kale to feed the chickens and cilantro and parsley for a year's supply of pesto. This past weekend with the help of my partner-in-crime, we built two very nice looking raised beds which will hold cherry trees in their centre and strawberries (I think) underneath, along with a new side-by-side composter. Things are coming together, even if the weather here in Southern Ontario has been less than spring-like. When it does finally arrive my little wannabe urban farm will be ready.

When the snow flies again in November, there will be enough food to feed ourselves until next spring. There. Having said it in print makes more likely to be so! Eventually, the whole yard will be used to grow food, my dream being an artfully composed potager* (pronounced po-ta-zhay) where vegetables, herbs, lettuces, tree fruit, soft fruits, and edible flowers weave themselves into a gloriously beautiful and productive tapestry-so I'm afraid the resource-sapping perennials will have to go. If all goes according to plan, the dream will be accomplished by 2013, and my little patch of paradise will fill the freezer, root-cellar, and canning jars for a full 6 months. My yard is not large-just 50x110 feet, and a good part of it shady. I'm anticipating a bumper-crop of trial-and-error as I get to know the growing potential of my yard better. Stay tuned!

*What is a Potager? Find out here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kitchen_garden

Everything but the boar's head.

2011-04-24T14:59:00.003-04:00

A mildly contrived spring tableau.
Photo by Kelly Hughes

The Easters of my past have come and gone and are now not more than blurred memories of the brown carpeting of my childhood, punctuated with shiny foil eggs that called to me from under the couch. After spending the better part of the day ingesting gooey Laura Secord eggs, it is amazing that any of us had any room to enjoy my Mother's sumptuous feasts, started no doubt the day before for my family and our extended circle of relatives. Along with Thanksgiving and Christmas, Easter was the first in the Holy Trinity of grand dinners that followed the course of any given year, and all day we looked forward to the slowly cooked smoked hams, pans of crusty scalloped potatoes, steaming bowls of vegetables, salads, soft warm rolls, lemon meringue pie, and ice cream.

We all long for the ceremony of a meal that has been cooked all day, with ingredients we started gathering long before that. It's exciting to put out china settings of salad plates and side plates and dinner plates, water goblets and wine glasses, salad forks, dinner forks, butter knives and gravy boats. Paper serviettes (or none at all) give way to linen napkins, and the tablecloth makes its first of three yearly appearances.

I don't go to church anymore, and no longer practice the Catholicism that shaped everything from what I did on Sundays to what I wore to school. For whatever reason, the origins of the great feasts of the past and of my childhood were always connected to religion. Mrs Isabella Beeton, in her giant tome of Household Management, dated 1859, wrote "The Greeks, too, were great diners: their social and religious polity gave them many chances of being merry and making others merry on good eating and drinking." She also included a menu and table arrangement for a Christening "breakfast" (for a mere 80 persons) where among the dishes served are decorated hams, pigeon pies, two roast fowls, assorted creams and jellies, six bowls of cut-up lobsters, shoulder of lamb, and a boar's head.

Tonight we will enjoy a more modest feast at home of lentil soup, vegetarian cabbage rolls, boiled potatoes with smoked paprika, sour cream, and bread. We always use china plates, albeit the slightly chipped, mismatched ones I've collected over the years, and cloth napkins are in regular use here. But I plan to cook most of the day, and we will eat at the large dining table under the sparkly chandelier. Trends in food will always come and go, but our inherent desire to dine grandly, I believe, is here to stay.

I Heart Parsley

2011-04-04T15:30:00.003-04:00

What is it with parsley anyway?

I recently read a restaurant review in which one of the dishes was slagged because it committed the cardinal sin of only being garnished with "the ubiquitous and boring smattering of parsley". I'll commend the reviewer for her use of "smattering", which ranks right up there with "kerfuffle" and "fisticuffs" as those words which should be thrown into conversation as often as possible. What I cannot abide is her hate-on for poor parsley. What gives?

Let's get one thing on the table right now. I wholeheartedly agree; a slice of yellowed, limpid tomato within a cup of iceberg lettuce topped with a sprig of curly parsley doesn't excite me either. Somewhere between the onset of fine cuisine and 1975 there must have been published a handbook, perhaps something titled Radish Roses and 101 Other Garnishing Cliches, and this little dandy was on page one. Could this be why the mere mention of the word parsley conjures up images of a tiny tree-like sprig languishing on the plate amid the dregs of what was probably only a mildly passable meal? Can parsley be relevant?

Roesti, Soft-Scrambled Eggs, and a Smattering of Parsley.
Photo: K. Hughes

I happen to love the stuff. It's super easy to grow, and I plant it neat hedges along the edges of my garden so that I always have enough. Flat leaf or curly, it doesn't matter, it looks gorgeous and both varieties have a mild, fresh, grassy quality and lasting green colour that can take the simplest dish to new heights both taste-wise and visually. It is more robust than many of the green leafy herbs, and keeps its colour and shape when heated. It doesn't blacken like basil, and can easily stand in when you are cooking for cilantro haters. Companion planted, it attracts predatory insects which then feed on other pests in the garden.

I love to stir lots of coarsely-chopped flat leaf, or Italian parsley into a bare-broth soup. Tiny snippets of curly parsley give softly-scrambled eggs new dimension. A mix of salad greens is given another layer of flavour when whole leaves of both varieties are tossed into the mix. At the end of the season, batches of parsley pesto make their way into my freezer to be swirled into creamy mashed potatoes and leeks, spread on thick slices of multigrain bread and grilled with old cheddar, or drizzled over oven-roasted tomatoes. I always keep a container of chopped parsley in the fridge to add a touch of summery green to nearly anything, and the stems get tossed into every stock I make.

The Lebanese get it. Their divine salad of bulgur wheat and heaps of fresh chopped parsley, Tabbouleh is a top notch way to enjoy the way parsley commiserates so well with other flavours, fresh lemon, garlic, and toasty grains.

What The Chickens Are Doing Today

2011-02-04T18:12:00.001-05:00

Ever since I can remember I've wanted to try my hand at chicken keeping. Like the drama addict I am I had all these Merchant-Ivory images of holding fresh grain in my apron as I wandered about the vegetable gardens, sprinkling it around as my girls softly clucked in the sunshine. Then I would gaily skip to the coop at 6am to collect the still-warm eggs from each perfectly fluffed nest.

Then I got chickens. For the most part, the dream has been realized, except that I don't wear aprons. Or skip. What I forgot to include in my picture of poultry perfection was that winter comes, and when it does, the chickens are still there. Except now, instead of gathering eggs in the warm sunshine, I'm traipsing through over a foot of snow to get to the coop. It is covered in a large tarp to keep the wind out, which is now sagging heavily under the snow we received on Wednesday. The door is difficult to open. Despite the installation of a heat lamp, the water freezes regularly. The hay has also frozen, and caked with droppings which generally stay in the coop all winter, providing extra warmth. The birds don't wander the yard in the winter, the snow too cold on their delicate feet, and so they stay put, which means ducking under the sagging tarp and actually maneuvering myself into the 5' tall space to spread the feed and gather the eggs.

When I'm finished, I'm cold, usually wet, and may have come in contact with hen droppings.

But every day, the hens cluck softly at me as I bring them new water, fresh feed, and thank them for their eggs. Seeing them cozy in their little home with an extra-thick layer of beautiful feathers makes me happy.

Like so many things in life, those which are least glamorous are also the most rewarding.

Simple Eggs

4 large eggs
1 tbsp. butter
1 green onion, thinly sliced
Salt and Freshly Ground Pepper to taste
1 tbsp. creme fraiche, or cream cheese
1 tbsp. fresh chives
4 slices rustic bread,toasted

In a non-stick pan, gently melt the butter over medium-low heat. Crack the eggs into a bowl and beat. When butter is melted, add the green onion and cook for about 1 minute. Add the eggs, and softly scramble until 90% cooked, but still moist. Remove from heat. Stir in the creme fraiche or cream cheese so that it melts into the eggs. Season with salt and pepper.

Mound over buttered toast, and sprinkle with chives. Serves 2.

Overweight? Take Back Your Kitchen!

2011-02-03T17:43:00.000-05:00

Last week The Globe And Mail ran an excellent series on weight and food. I had been waiting for some time for someone to write about not just the relationship between what we eat and obesity, but the disconnect between what is available to eat and how to cook it.

Then along came Margaret Wente, who articulated many of the reasons for our now quite complicated love-hate relationship with food. Read on...

http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/opinions/opinion/the-lost-art-of-cooking/article1889479/

A rise in income is only part of the picture. The poor aren't cooking either. Thank you to Ms. Wente for stating the real problem, the ubiquitous and somewhat tiresome 'I don't have time' excuse. The question is, what are you doing instead?
At the risk of sounding self-righteous and opinionated, let me say this. We have no television in my house. We also don't have the video games attached to it, the ads for junk food spewing out of it, or flavour-blasted snacks in front of it. Most evenings are spent preparing meals for the next day (and sometimes even the next) at the expense of a night of 'Village on a Diet' or 'The Biggest Loser' schadenfreud. My kids are watching what I do. The message that food is important and my kids own preparedness in the kitchen will stay with them long after I have served them my last pot of tomato chickpea soup.

I am a working single parent of three, on a tight budget. Cooking is not drudgery. Cooking is part of being a human being, and a parental responsibility. Very little gets in the way of providing clean, unfettered food for myself and my offspring. What could I possibly find to do that is more important?

Stating we don't have time to cook has meant relinquishing all control over our kitchens and what comes out of them to packaged, processed, microwavable, 20 minute food. Despite advertising aimed at guilt-ridden, harried working mothers, eating this way is not faster, easier, or cheaper, and quick meal fixes and fast food are not our friends.

I choose to believe that Ms. Wente is wrong in her conclusion that cooking from scratch is headed the way of the dodo. Our loss of skill in the kitchen has slipped away insidiously. We have been fooled by food items which hybridize convenience and 'cooking'. All of a sudden our cooking skills don't go beyond adding pouch 'A' to a cup of water and bringing it to a boil. This may be a problem, or not. That same pot of water can be used to steam vegetables, cook whole wheat pasta, or prepare a big bag of dried beans for future meals.

Few people would choose to feed themselves and their children badly if they knew how to do it differently, or more importantly, outright refused to hand over such an important job to someone else.

Who knows better than us how to feed ourselves and our families? If we are really serious about our health and losing weight, take a night or two off television. Tell food processing companies who's boss and take back your kitchen.

The Big Smoke

2011-02-03T16:38:00.001-05:00

Through a combination of mounting ethical dilemmas and new found frugality, I've more or less stopped eating meat. This has led me to make many discoveries and come to several conclusions, but one in particular. That is, many recipes start with bacon.

The reason for this of course being the delightful smokiness bacon imparts to whatever it is being cooked, be it sauteed potatoes, an onion tart, or clam chowder. Ok, I also love the fat. I'm daydreaming right now of frisee au lardons, that delightful old-school bistro salad which starts with little strips of bacon with their slowly and lovingly rendered fat blended while warm with vinegar and Dijon, then poured over cool frisee, topped with some crisp bread cubes, and possibly a drippy soft-poached egg. Heaven.

I realized what I love most about bacon (and chorizo, and ham) is the flavour of smoke it imparts on my cooking. How does one get smokiness without using bacon, and without resorting to that vile concoction called "liquid smoke" which possesses and acridness reminiscent not of carefully cured meat, but my clothing after a pre smoking ban clubbing night. Maldon smoked salt is good in a pinch (sorry) but is better suited to finishing than cooking.

So how to get that sweet, smoky character I'm looking for? Two words: smoked paprika.

My current addiction to this substance started with a fairly easy to find supermarket variety. Now I cannot live without the Sweet Spanish Smoked Paprika from Montreal's divine Epices de Cru. Yes, you can get it in the mail (along with this great company's hundreds of other whole and ground spices and blends.) http://www.epicesdecru.com/

I use it everywhere. It blends effortlessly into recipes where a touch of smoke is warranted, as in charred tomatillo salsa, vegetarian gumbo, and hummous, while the sweet pepper notes give flavours more depth. I also love the colour it imparts to thinks like sweet potato puree and tomato-chickpea soup. You can use it anywhere you would use regular paprika, including the ubiquitous 50's era deviled egg or potato salad sprinkle. Eggs, mayo, a snippet of fresh chives, and smoked paprika. It doesn't get much better than that.

Today I made smoky leek and ricotta cannelloni with a garlicky oven-roasted tomato sauce. It rocked. No bacon required.

Smoky Leek and Ricotta Cannelloni
-8 fresh lasagna sheets, cut in half and soaked in cold water for 2 minutes;
-2 cans plum tomatoes with juice
-4 cloves garlic, minced
-1 large onion, diced
-salt and pepper
-1/4 cup olive oil
-1 tub full-fat ricotta cheese
-1 bunch leeks, cleaned and thinly sliced
-2 tbsp. butter
-1 large egg
-1 cup grated fresh Parmesan or Romano cheese
-1 tsp smoked paprika
-1 1/2 cups shredded Asiago or Mozzarella cheese

Preheat oven to 350F. In a large roasting pan, combine the tomatoes, onions, and garlic. Season with salt and pepper. Roast 2 hours, stirring occasionally. Let cool. Place in food processor and blend until smooth. Drizzle in olive oil, and a little water if sauce is too thick. Taste and season. Set aside. Increase oven temperature to 375F.

In a large saucepan, melt butter. Add the smoked paprika and cook 1 minute. Add leeks and cook over medium-low heat until softened, about 10 minutes. Remove to a bowl and cool to room temperature. Stir in ricotta, egg, and Parmesan, and season with salt and pepper.

In a 9x13 baking dish, ladle in enough sauce to cover the bottom. Lay out the soaked pasta sheets and place some of the filling along one edge. Roll up and place in the baking dish, seam side down, until all the sheets have been used. Ladle on sauce to cover (you may not use it all). Cover pan with foil. Bake for 40 minutes. Remove foil and cover cannelloni with the shredded cheese. Broil until bubbly, and serve.

Millions of Peaches...

2010-09-05T13:59:00.001-04:00

Recent trips to both the Guelph Farmers Market and the gargantuan St Jacobs market not only severely tested my car's suspension but inspired me to revisit some recipes I haven't made in a while. The peaches right now are heavenly, (not to mention the nectarines, so aptly named, they are juicy and honied, like sweet nectar) and I also have an overflowing supply of hot peppers in my garden. So this week I brought out my Mother's famous recipe for Peach & Hot Pepper Jelly. Th colour of this alone is reason enough to make it, sparkling and clear, with a rosy hue, flecked with bright red peppers. I love to serve it with rosemary bread and soft goat cheese, and it is a natural with most soft cheeses like Sauvagine from Quebec or Romelia from Saltspring Island.

The other day on Facebook I mentioned I was making this, and received quite a few requests for the recipe. I am not one of those chefs who guards my secrets with the tenacity of a Fort Knox guard. Food is for sharing, and if I died tomorrow, who would carry it on? What a shame that recipes are lost forever because of pride. (Note to greedy chefs and cooks everywhere: Get over yourselves.) So then, here it is. I hope you enjoy this as much as I do.

Peach & Hot Pepper Jelly

4 lbs ripe peaches (use freestones unless you enjoy mind-numbing frustration)
1 1/2 cups apple cider vinegar
6 cups white sugar (I use organic cane sugar)
1/4 pound hot peppers
1 sweet red pepper
2 pouches Certo Fruit Pectin (these come two to a box)
1 tbsp. butter

Pit the peaches but do not peel. Buzz them in the food processor until well-chopped but still chunky. Combine with the vinegar in a large pot. Bring to a boil and simmer 10 minutes. Suspend the mixture from a jelly bag (you can buy something called a "jelly bag", or you can layer cheesecloth and tie the top with some kitchen string or a rubber band) and allow the juices to collect over a bowl for several hours. If you don't squeeze the bag, the jelly will be crystal clear. Measure juices. You should have about 3 cups, if not, ad enough water to measure 3 cups.

In a large pot, combine the measured juices with 6 cups white sugar, 1 sweet red pepper, and 1/4 pound mixed hot peppers. For a mildly hot jelly, use jalapenos. For a fiery jelly, habaneros are the way to go. Chop all the peppers, including the sweet one, in the food processor to protect your hands.

Bring mixture to a boil and boil hard for 1 minute. Remove from heat and stir in two pouches of Certo Liquid Fruit Pectin, and 1 tbsp butter.

Ladle into clean and sterilized 250ml canning jars, and seal. Makes 7 jars. Allow to sit undisturbed for at least 24 hours to properly set jelly.

New to canning?

http://www.bernardin.ca/pages/faq/33.php
http://eatrightontario.ca/en/viewdocument.aspx?id=317

Don't let the strip mall put you off...

2010-04-15T16:52:00.000-04:00

Eat here. Tell your friends. Trust me.

http://elmercadito.ca/index_files/Page367.htm

The Proof.

2010-01-18T14:05:00.003-05:00

It is, in fact, in the pudding. (Sorry, I couldn't resist...) The proof of what? That something utterly delicious and comforting costs next to nothing.

You may recall a few posts ago I mentioned the motley collection of frozen remnants I had lurking in my freezer. One of said items was a very old, and very stale loaf of raisin bread. I also had a few scraps of egg bread, and we needed something for breakfast that could also double for a snack at lunch time and even something to nosh on while I read before bed (Malcolm Gladwell's "The Tipping Point"....I love that man. I will need to blog about him at some point. I'm sure he eats, right?). The end result was Bread & Butter Pudding with Strawberry Preserves.

It turned out delicious. I served it warm with a steaming pot of Earl Grey for breakfast. Lining the pan with parchment allowed me to pop the whole thing out and cut it into neat squares that wrapped up well to send to school. Some company popped by and sampled some, and I did manage to sneak a pice for myself, washed down with an ice cold glass of organic milk before bed.

If I were wearing my pastry chef hat, I would get fancy by cutting the bread into tiny cubes and soaking them with the egg mixture in a big bowl before lining muffin tins with patterned parchment collars and spooning the mixture in. For the preserves, I would just spoon some into each cup and swirl it around.

Here is my recipe, (made up this morning). As always, everything organic and free-range where possible. Keep in mind this is best if it sits for a couple of hours before baking, but I confess I did not feel like getting up at 4am so I skipped it, and it was still delicious.

Bread & Butter Pudding with Strawberry Preserves

12 slices stale bread (cinnamon raisin, challah, or brioche would all work well)
6 tbsp. softened butter
1/2 cup strawberry (or other) preserves (I used my own)
1/4 cup organic sugar
4 free-range large eggs
2 1/4 cups organic homogenized milk (or if you revere fat use 10% cream)
1 tsp. pure vanilla extract

Line a 13x9 inch baking pan with parchment. (Clip the corners to make it fit nicely.) Butter the bread and spread with the preserves, then lay the slices in two long rows, slightly overlapping. In a bowl, whisk together the eggs with the milk and vanilla. Pour over the bread, and using your hands, press down until the bread starts to soak up the mixture. Cover and refrigerate 2 hours.
Preheat oven to 350F. Uncover the pan and bake 45 minutes or until puffed and golden brown. Cool slightly, then slice.

Stick A Fork In It

2010-01-17T15:35:00.004-05:00

I've been talking about it for three days, so no more teasing. Behold, le boeuf....

I suppose it was guilding the lily, but I decided not to be faint of heart and whipped up a batch of spaetzle with a grating of fresh nutmeg and tossed in a little noisette butter. Of course it was fabulous, soaking up every last drop of the succulent sauce.

It was pure heaven, especially washed down with a beautiful glass of Fielding Fireside Red, which has a touch of smoky bacon-ness to it that goes so well with the pancetta in the stew.

I think Julia, and even possibly Larousse would be proud.

Cooking It Old School

2010-01-16T10:43:00.004-05:00

This morning I woke up at 4:30 am. I think it was 1am before I finally relinquished my book and gave in to the increasing weight of my eyelids, so the reason for my early rise had nothing to do with having had adequate sleep. I may have been stirred by one of the cats asking to be let out for a pre-dawn stalk of some unsuspecting creature, but I really can't pinpoint the reason for waking at such an unnatural hour. Suffice to say, after letting Pep-r (the cat) outside, sleep eluded me. A pot of hot coffee made it easier to accept my fate, and I settled in on the couch to read.

Lately I've been feeling nostalgic for the old days of cooking, for fine French technique, for butter and cream. For puff pastry made from scratch, and for cakes made from airy whipped eggs, not baking powders. Maybe it's because instead of going to my boyfriend's hockey game and actually watching the game (!) I chose instead to delve into my favourite issue of Gastonomica.  It's the one with Julia Child on the cover, filled with articles and letters documenting the Golden age of food in America through the eyes of the queen herself. (Yes, that makes me a bad girlfriend. But I also bake him cookies and leave jam on his doorstep. I hope I am forgiven!). This time of year, I always feel a powerful urge to cook and settle in for a few more months of cold, which may have something to do with it. Whatever the reason, I found myself picking up my well-loved copy of Larousse's Gastronomique, given to me years ago for my birthday by a very dear friend who is no longer with me. The book, happily, I can thumb through any time I want, remembering how our mutual love of food connected us. Having it is almost like having my friend back, and I always feel comforted just holding it in my hands.

So today with a nod to Julia, Larousse, and my friend, I got to the Beef Bourguignon. I cooked off the chunks of pancetta,  and patted dry the beef (and what a treat...instead of the usual chuck, I used decadently delicious pastured chunks of rib-eye, trimmed from steaks I used for a job). In a smoking hot pan, I seared each piece, keeping the pan uncrowded for perfect browning. In went the onions, carrots, garlic, bay, cloves, and copius amounts of red wine. As I write, it is simmering in a slow oven, a fragrant example of the sublime alchemy that is a perfect recipe.

No one can deny the emotional power of food. Call me a total softie, but as I read through the recipe in my cherished book and took to the kitchen to get started, my emotions swayed between nostagia, loss, exhilaration, and sheer bliss. What I made this morning was so much more than seared beef with wine and vegetables. It was a testament to memory, respect, and love.  Food is good, and so are all the wonderful feelings that accompany it. I'm happy get up early for that.

No Money=Eating Better

2010-01-15T19:37:00.004-05:00

I have a confession to make. I did not enter the food/writing business for the money. In fact, as I quipped with another freelancer the other day, the rhythm of my life is measured in wild pendulum swings between feast and famine, with famine usually having the very upper hand. It's a fact of life. Those who do the cooking generally don't have the funds to do the eating. I have toyed with the idea of a "real" job only to quickly discard such a ridiculous notion more times than I can count. After watching Julie & Julia the other day I even briefly considered the idea of putting a Paypal button on my blog for willing contributors to the Kelly fund. I have since decided there are more important uses for other people's money, like feeding their own children. Or Haiti.

On New Year's Eve, the straw broke the camel's back. Actually it shatted it into a million itty bitty pieces, when my car decided something called a timing chain was important and when it got thrown out of whack, my engine did not like it one bit. It protested to the tune of $2999.89. Let me tell you, faithful readers, that is a hell of a lot of catering.

With my food budget slashed to...well, nothing, it was time to get industrious. I am a bit of a hoarder so I keep the pantry well-stocked with things like canned organic tomatoes, dry peas and beans, flour, raw sugar, and yeast. As I scoured the freezer, I found salmon scraps, a free-range chicken, some bits of rib-eye, rhubarb, some diced pancetta, some oven-roasted tomatoes, and old raisin bread.  The fridge produced a bag of onions, organic carrots, rosemary, some chipotles, all remnants of larger bags and larger containers. A trip to the store and I added a dozen eggs, some milk, a brick of old cheddar, and a green pepper to my booty, spending the last of my meagre change.

Then something magical happened.  The chicken, carrots, onions, and rosemary turned into White Chicken Stew with Dumplings.  The scraps of salmon I poached, and to them added an onion (sweated off in a bit of butter) some breadcrumbs I made from the old bread, an egg, and a few herbs from the pantry. They became Crispy Salmon Cakes with Chipotle Remoulade. The beef is marinating in the fridge, and together with the onions and carrots and pancetta will become Beef Bourguignon tomorrow night. I found some lentils in the pantry and made up a batch of Daal which we will mop up with some Coconut Roti on Sunday. We are eating better than we have eaten in a long time, when teaching and writing and catering gets in the way and we eat out (a lot) or I just buy whatever I need when it is convenient to do so. Having to seriously plan ahead and look at what I have has renewed my love of cooking from scratch. I forgot how good it feels to take time to plan and execute a well-made meal, calling upon latent skills that I allow to sleep when life gets too hectic.

It's amazing what can be done with very little. It's a good challenge to look at what you have, and instead of running to the store everytime we run out of something, learn to use (and be satisfied) with what we have. I'm sure as soon as I've caught my breath and finances get back on an even keel, I'll be buying some good cheese again, but in the meantime, my newfound (albeit necessary) frugality is refreshing.  I may be penniless, but I am sated, and the chef deep in my soul is in her happy place.

A Taste of January

2010-01-12T17:11:00.003-05:00

My computer woes are far from over, but for every time I curse the fickleness of technology I also remember that it is responsible for things like free wireless internet at the library. So for as long as I can brave a walk in the cold, there will be a blog.

The other day a wonderful thing happened. After thanking my statuesque Fraser Fir for standing sentinel in my front window for the past month and just being beautiful, I reluctantly bid adieu to the Christmas decorations and spent the better part of my daylight hours cleaning out the needles and boughs. Of course this made me famished. A quick survey of the kitchen revealed grim prospects: leftover shortbread cookies, the end of a fabulous loaf from Ouderkirk & Taylor, or something from the various jars of beans lining the shelves of my kitchen. After the holidays, I am convinced I am now composed of over 50% cookies, so the shortbread was out, and the bread had seen fresher days and was slated for the breadcrumb bin. As for the beans, I was hungry, like, now. 2 hours of soaking wasn't going to cut it. Then I remembered the freezer.

Whenever I cook up a recipe, I make two. It's just something I do, and this practice has served me well. If I'm going to go to the effort of chopping heaps of vegetables (as in my 18 vegetable chili) or stuff cabbage leaves with wild mushrooms and leeks and make luscious roasted tomato sauce to slather on them, I may as well do it twice, while the onions are out and the knife and cutting board are dirty and the pot is on the stove anyway. The amount of extra time and effort is barely noticable compared to what it would take to shop and prepare whatever it is I'm making a second time. Not to mention is comes in very handy when I've been gutting the Christmas decorations and am one sensible thought away from gnawing on a cedar frond. Much to my delight, there inside my hand-me-down Frostpoint, amongst the veggie Biryani, loaves of bread, and apple pie, was a gem-like, perfect-for-one container of vegetable soup I had made in the summer. In the waning light I lit some candles and curled up on the sofa with a steaming bowl of summery goodness. Tender little rounds of sliced yellow beans, still fresh-tasting tomatoes, tiny fresh limas, ribbons of chard, sweet organic carrots and a bite of fresh chili. I was transported back to my garden in July, while at the same time being utterly grateful to be exactly where I was, warm and cozy with my supper while a gentle snow fell outside, happy and sated.

This is what January tastes like...

Eating Organic is Too Expensive. Part I: Found Food.

2009-11-24T12:04:00.000-05:00

Whenever I start going off about how easy it is to eat organic food I tend to hear one comment over and over. It's too expensive.

Anyone who is a freelance writer or caterer will agree with me here. We make no money. Unless you have published a best-seller or attained celebrity-chef status or won the $100,000 prize on Top Chef, we are a poor lot. Before you shed a tear for my plight, let me clarify. I am ok with this. Living simply and frugally is a clear path, unfettered with big screen tvs and status vehicles and trips to Disneyworld. Finding joy in library books and rented movies and food I have grown myself makes me very happy indeed.

Despite my love of frugality, as a chef, eating well is a luxury I refuse to part with. Having all but eschewed Supermarket Culture, most of what I eat is local and organic, and procured from the local organic store or farmers market. It costs me more up front, but compared to the hidden costs attached to eating cheaply from the supermarket (fossil fuel use, abuse of agricultural lands, mistreatment of farmed animals) I am paying for all I will pay for as soon as I hand my money to the farmer or CSA grower or at the organic store. I can walk away knowing my bag of treasure is the last step in the transaction.

There are many ways I work with the higher initial costs of eating this way, but for now, here is one. I have become an expert at "finding" food. Let me explain. When you open a box, say a frozen pizza, and eat the contents, it is gone. When I buy a bag of organic potatoes, or harvest a bunch of leeks from my garden, here is what I find:

-dinner for tonight (leek and potato soup)
-dinner for another night (add some cauliflower and you have aloo gobi)
-dinner for a third night (did I mention I made a double batch of the soup?)
-trimmings for stock (scrub the potatoes first, and slice up the leek tops and bottoms. Keep a bag in the freezer and add to it at will)
-a snack for later (scrub the potatoes, brush the peelings with a bit of olive oil and roast in the oven until crisp, and toss with some sea salt)
-an add in for a tart or mac and cheese (saute leek tops, ever so slowly in butter until very tender, and use as you wish)
-fortified water for soup stock (from boiling potatoes)
-compost (from any brown ends of the leeks or spoiled edges of potato)

The frozen pizza costs $5.99. The organic potatoes cost me $3.99, the leeks are free. Either way, I am fed. But in the meatime, I don't have a box to throw away, I spent time making something from what other people might see as garbage, and nothing is wasted. There were no chemicals of preservatives in my food. And I have a meal to put away for another day, all from a humble bag of potatoes and some leeks I grew in the spring, which gave me some exercise and time outside. Throw the compost into the mix, and I'm adding humus to my soil, or feeding my chickens.

There are other "found" foods too. Carrot tops are wonderful in shaved fennel salad. Mushroom stems can be made into tapenade or ravioli filling. Orange peels can be simmered slowly with a bit of sugar until soft, chopped, and added to granola or folded into a batch of blondies. I didn't make this up. Chefs and restaurants have been "finding" food all along to keep food costs low, while still delighting us with wonderful food.

Expensive you say? Not only can I (and you) afford to eat this way, in this age of enviromental awareness, "upcycling" and reusing, the dangers of packaged foods, pesticides, and genetically modified ingredients, it seems ridiculous not to.

For The Love Of Urban Agriculture

2009-11-23T09:42:00.000-05:00

KAScott_20091120_8379b
Originally uploaded by Ken Scott

This past Friday I was fortunate enough to attend Backyard Bounty and the University of Guelph's first Urban Agriculture Symposium, held on the grounds of the beautiful and always inspiring Guelph Arboretum. Walking in the door to register, I could tell this was not going to be your usual conference. I was surrounded by an energetic and charged group of like-minded agriculturists, farmers, landscape architects, desingers, urban planners, activists, and advocates for local food, gathered together to discuss the resurgence of interest in urban agriculture, and its future in Guelph and beyond. It was comforting to chat with complete strangers over the organic apples at the snack table, nary a business suit in sight, about the the renewed momentum of the "movement", as I heard it called.

And a renewal it is. It is only in fairly recent history that agriculture has moved out of cities and onto vast expanses of land deep in rural areas. When I imagine urban agriculture of the past, I'm always reminded of the Incan empire, and Machu Pichu, with its elegantly terraced gardens reaching to the heavens, delicate micro-climates overflowing with bounty just yeards from where people lived. Call me romantic, but the idea of communities of families and neighbours working the land, side my side, and sharing its bounty strikes a chord in my soul.

Its unfortunate that this model has been lost, or rather misplaced, in the era of SUV's and grocery store giants, but attending the symposium gave me hope that there are significant numbers of people who feel this way. The question is, is there enough momentum to convince various levels of government to divert a portion of all that stimulus money to build the infrastructure needed to create and sustain areas for urban agriculture? Who would like to see some of our city parklands re-purposed as community gardens? How about tax breaks for those who use their properties to grow their own food?

I'm definitely oversimplifying, but I have always believed if you follow what your heart and soul is telling you, the rest will follow. Grow food yourself, and set an example to our children and those around us of how it can be done. It was heartening and encouraging to meet people who are doing just that in their homes and in their work. Growing a few vegetables on our available land or raising a few chickens may seem a long way from the Incan empire, but cultivating these connections to our agricultural past may just be the way to achieve a sustainable future.

...and it keeps on giving

2009-11-19T18:45:00.076-05:00

For all our complaining about what a disappointing summer it was, we are being rewarded with an amazing autumn. Today, despite the rain, the temperature was in the double-digits again. My garden is relishing the warmth, rewarding me daily with an unending supply of kale, swiss chard, parsley, leeks, celeriac, and beets. So what do we do with it all, especially all those greens????

My answer, for anyone who knows me, is to of course keep it simple. You could alway saute them in some brown butter and salt and pepper, or cook them all up with some rich vegetable stock and some diced sweet potatoes and a bit of garam masala for an easy soup.

Tonight I threw together this very simple but killer pasta. You can do this with any leafy green you may have, but I made it with a big whack of Swiss chard, which is looking even greener and healthier now than it did all summer. I used a mere 6 ingredients. It took all of 10 minutes to make, and it rocked.

I recently discovered Delverde pasta. It's made with 100% organically farmed durum wheat, and cut using bronze dies, which results in that wonderful rough surface which really grabs the sauce. Here's what I did:

Cook the pasta (I used tagliatelle) and drain. In the same pot, heat 2-3 tsp good olive oil and add a dab of butter. Add 4 cloves minced garlic, 4-5 cups swiss chard cut into ribbons, 2 cups halved organic grape tomatoes, a pinch of crushed red pepper, and a good amount of salt & pepper. I added a bit of whipping cream but only because I had it and it needed using. Add 1/4 cup grated organic parmesan and the drained pasta and tossing well.

That's all there is to it. Sprinkle with some more cheese and some organic pine nuts, if you can find them.

If you have time, roast the tomatoes first. Halve and season with salt and pepper and a drizzle of olive oil. Roast in a 425F oven for 10 minutes, then reduce to 250F and cook for another 30-40 minutes, or until caramely. Roasting vegetables always adds extra flavour, and I like to keep a bunch of these in the fridge for pasta, pizza, bruschetta, omelettes, you name it.

http://www.unico.ca/cgi-bin/products.cgi?id=238

The Big Story of the Little Seed

2009-10-14T11:08:00.003-04:00

Much to my chagrin I went out to check the garden on Monday morning to find that a killing frost had taken out all my delicate vegetables, the jalapenos and Thai basil, the nasturtiums and heirloom tomatoes.

All is not lost, because from the few tomatoes clinging to the now pathetically drooping vines, I will collect and save the precious seeds to start indoors next spring. Saving seeds from tomatoes is a process, very different from waiting for a bean to grow to bursting, its seeds to dry, and simply popping open the pod. It is a tad labour intensive, but like all labours of love, well worth the effort.

This Thursday as part of World Food Day, Hart House at the University of Toronto presents a lecture by the wonderful Vandana Shiva. Shiva is an internationally acclaimed author, ecologist, physicist, and food activist. Among her numerous affiliations and accomplishments, she founded Navdanya, a network of organic growers and seed keepers spread across 16 states in India. Shiva was raised and educated in India as well as Canada, and just happened to earn her degree in Philosophy of Science and the University of Guelph, but back to Navdanya. This organization has been instrumental in promoting organic agriculture across India as well as teaching the importance of biodiversity, and the role of seed keeping, in worldwide sustainability. A tiny seed is a powerful David & Goliath metaphor for the influence it has to shape the future of global food systems. On a smaller, yet equally important scale, saving seeds means that heirloom varieties, which have survived not by genetic modification but because savvy farmers were wise to their strengths and kept them going by saving their seeds, will continue to survive.

On a personal level, saving seed also saves me money. One tiny White Currant tomato holds upwards of 40 seeds. I will lose some, but even if one-fourth germinate and mature, 10 plants will be enough for me to grow what I need and share the rest with others. And that is one tomato from one plant variety of the dozen or so I grew this year. When all is said and done, I may even be selling heirloom tomato plants at the end of my driveway come June.

The best way to achieve success in your own urban "farm" is to practice biodiversity. The allow the natural ecology of your garden flourish is to operate in a closed loop of sustainability. Rotating legume crops with vegetative plants (like my heirloom tomatoes) feed nitrogen to the soil, which in turn will feed the next crop, whose waste will feed my chickens who will fertilize my soil with their droppings, where I will plant again, and the loop is closed. No chemical fertilizers or pesticides needed.

This year in my small but productive 150 sq.ft garden, no fewer than 40 different vegetables grew. We enjoyed organic, chemical free produce daily from this wide variety of fruit, vegetables, herbs, and edible flowers. We simply ate better, and when we eat better, we live better.

The Caretakers

2009-10-09T11:43:00.002-04:00

KAScott_20091006_8497b
Originally uploaded by Ken Scott

One of the reasons why I love food so much is not only its inherent beauty, and how something so simple can be powerfully soul-lifting, but the way it is the one common denominator that can bring so many different people together. I can't think of anything that illustrates this better than when we have an opportunity to come face to face with the people who grow our food. They are the stewards of the land, our caretakers, our farmers. Talking with farmers, learning more about their craft, and hearing their stories is the only way to truly grasp what it takes to produce the beautiful food we enjoy every day.

For all the talk of local food, organic farming, terrior, and the near fever-pitch fashionability of embracing such things these days, our farmers have been quietly living and growing this way for hundreds of years. They are the front line soldiers in the war against mass-produced goods parading around disguised as food, genetically modified fruit and vegetable Frankensteins that may look like the real thing on the outside, but don't even come close to the art our organic farmers produce day in and day out.

The only way we can ever hope to embrace and appreciate food for what it is meant to be is to receive it directly from the soil-honed, hard-working hands of our farmers. They are all around us, when we pick up our CSA, visit the Farmers' markets, when we pick from their fields and orchards. If we are lucky enough to have this opportunity, to connect with the very person who grew the food we will be eating, then we should. Say hello, ask questions, and say thank you. Where our food systems go from here is entirely dependent on the relationship we, as individuals, have with our food, and the people who grow it.

If your heart is healthy, you are energetic and strong, and you close your eyes in bliss everytime you feast on organically grown earthy delights, you owe it to your local farmer, and all those who work our farms.

For everything good in our lives, there is someone who needs to be thanked. It may have been a while since we thought about what it actually takes for a small farm to produce food, through the hardships of weather and disease, and the unrelenting competition from factory farms who can do it bigger, cheaper, and faster. It's up to us to make sure we never lose the gift of the small, organic farm, and those who work it. Thank you, for all you do.

The Mighty Concord

2009-10-08T20:55:00.003-04:00

Grapes
Originally uploaded by peterkelly

While watery and tasteless red and green seedless grapes seem to be the most reached-for varities, somewhere along the way we seem to have forgotten the quaint little Concord. Once upon a time, no kitchen garden would have been complete without a vine or two clinging to the house or a makeshift trellis. But over the years they somehow fell out of favour, along with growing grapes in general.

And what a shame. With a deep, sensual flavour and unparalleled colour, the Concord slips as easily into a pie as it does into ubiquitous jam. Ignore the seeds (no matter what your mother told you, if you swallow a few you will NOT grow a grape vine in your stomach) and the Concord's tart skin and succulent interior makes it a great eating grape too.

Even if you have never tried Concords in anything but commercial grape juice, if you happen upon a basket or two of these beauties at the farmers market (they should just be wrapping up now) don't pass them by. Make one batch into jam-an easier or more satisfying project there cannot be-or go all pioneer and slip some into a bit of flaky pastry, and serve it up with some vanilla ice cream. Your purple-stained lips will thank you.

Concord Grape Pie

Prepare a batch of sweet pastry for a double crust pie. Slip the skins off 2 cups of Concord grapes, and set the skins aside in a large bowl. Put the "middles" into a saucepan and cook over medium low heat for 10 minutes. Sieve out the seeds, and add the sieved pulp to the skins in the bowl. Now add 3/4 cup raw organic sugar, and 3 tbsp. organic all purpose flour. Roll out your pastry and use it to line a 9 inch pie plate. Turn your grape mixture into the crust, then top with a second crust. Cut vents into the top, then brush with a beaten free range egg mixed with a tsp. of fresh organic cream. Give the whole thing a sprinkle of raw sugar. Bake for 10 minutes in a 450F oven, then drop the temperature to 350F and bake 30 minutes longer. Cool to room temperature before serving with vanilla ice cream (I highly Mapleton'sOrganic Vanilla).

http://www.mapletonsorganic.ca/

Vegetables vs. Vegetation: The Argument For Vegetable Gardening

2009-08-31T11:47:00.029-04:00

Recently I was chatting with a friend about our vegetable gardens. While we enjoyed some heirloom tomatoes on toast, he stated his opinion that anyone who owns their own property should be made to grow food on it. I thought this was an interesting viewpoint, so I checked the by-laws in our city, and discovered that there are rules in place which govern everything from keeping your grass a reasonable length to removing noxious weeds and adhering to maximum plant heights. So, grass, and the appearance of a tidy property are policed by the city. How difficult would it be to put in place the "10% law", which states that 10% of your urban property must be designated for growing food?

In case you need any further evidence as to why growing a vegetable garden is beneficial to you and everyone around you, consider this:

-A properly maintained 15x20 foot garden can provide up to 300 lbs of produce in a growing season. This contrasted with an inefficient, resource-sucking lawn that wastes human energy and produces nothing;

-Growing your own food provides healthier alternatives to carcinogen-sprayed, factory-farmed food that travels hundreds and even thousands of miles to reach its destination. More food readily available at home means less trips to the store, less pollution, and less dependency on our cars and fossil fuels;

-Like buying from a farmers market or local CSA, the act of vegetable gardening reinforces the connection between us and where our food comes from. We take ownership over food we grow ourselves, resulting in less waste and greater responsibility for using food wisely;

-Gardens provide natural habitats for wildlife, insects, and valuable organisms;

-We will be setting an example to those around us. Conversations will be initiated. Relationships will be forged. Food, seeds, and plants will be shared and traded. Instead of simply complaining about the state of our food system, we will be doing something to change it that is visible and tangible;

-Growing food teaches our children valuable lessons, not just about gardening, but about real food vs factory-farmed food, about taking responsibility for something, about patience, ecology, biology, and weather, about seeing a project through from start-to-finish, and about the balance between giving (work) and receiving (baskets of produce at the end of the season) And make no mistake-children who grow vegetables eat vegetables;

-We benefit from the physical activity, as do our children. Sowing, cultivating, weeding, and harvesting is meaningful and useful work, fulfilling a basic human need and providing something concrete and essential. Growing food is work we can share with friends, our kids, our partners and spouses, while enjoying meals we have grown and made together;

-We will be utilizing a very large amount of usuable growing land in order to produce food. In a world where our resources are quickly becoming exhausted to meet the needs of a growing population, tapping into these available land stores in our cities would help alleviate this on a local level;

-Most people who use food banks are single mothers, their children, and the elderly.
We would be providing fresh, organic, and healthy produce to those in our community who need it most, supplanting a daily diet of canned fish and boxed macaroni. Those in small households or who live alone could donate their crops to a local "Urban Market" food bank. Nothing would be wasted.

-And, above all this, there are subtle, trickle down effects of growing our own food. More variety in our diets, the resurrection of endangered and rare heirloom plant varieties, renewed interest in cooking, freezing, and preserving; a resurgence of interest in the meal itself and the sense of family and community it promotes, and providing inspiration and support for other grassroots food movements.

Do we really need something with so many obvious benefits to be legislated?

Sometimes a simple act like inviting a friend over to see your garden can provide the inspiration they need to start their own. Less lawn and more fresh food we have grown ourselves is a goal we can all acheive!

The Taste of Dirt

2009-08-29T11:47:00.000-04:00

Fresh Carrots
Originally uploaded by DSR 22

Today I spent the morning at the wonderful Guelph Farmers Market. I barely knew where to start. Despite the cool wet weather all the experienced and talented farmers seemed to have no problem producing some of the most beautiful produce I have seen in a long time. Having a garden myself, it really makes you respect the farmers who grow our food, who can overcome adverse weather conditions and still seem to get it right.

I came home with organic corn, Gingergold apples, tiny organic red skinned potatoes, Shepherd peppers, broccoli, cauliflower and yellow beans.

I then raided my own garden, and harvested some kale, beets, and carrots. I washed off a Nantes Red carrot in the rain barrel to munch on right there in the garden, when something occurred to me. No matter how much you wash a carrot that comes right out of the garden, it still tastes like dirt. In fact, that flavour of a vegetable that just came out of the earth is something I take for granted. I wonder how many people have the opportunity to enjoy the pleasure of something that has been picked moments ago?

Everyone should know what it is like to taste dirt!

The F-word

2009-08-25T00:02:00.005-04:00

Ok, I'll just say it. Flexitarian.

In 2003 the American Dialect Society named it the year's most useful word. Of course it fills the need for a label, when everything and everyone these days seems to feel they need one. Unfortunately the definitions of what constitutes a Flexitarian are so willy nilly and lacking that no one is really able to apply the term correctly. A little trolling of the internet provided some insight:

"Flexitarianism is a semi-vegetarian diet focusing on vegetarian food with occasional meat consumption. A self-described flexitarian seeks to decrease meat consumption without eliminating it entirely from his or her diet. There are no guidelines for how much or how little meat one must eat before being classified a flexitarian." -courtesy of Wikipedia.org

Seems straightforward enough. But wait, there's more. This is an excerpt from an article entitled "Meet the Flexitarians" found on msnbc:'

Even after five years, Christy Pugh has no trouble sticking to her vegetarian regimen. The secret to her success? Eating meat.“Sometimes I feel like I’m a bad vegetarian, that I’m not strict enough or good enough,” the 28-year-old bookkeeper from Concord said recently. “I really like vegetarian food but I’m just not 100 percent committed. “There’s (sic) so many reasons that people are vegetarians ... I find that nobody ever gives me a hard time when I say I usually eat vegetarian. But I really like sausage,” Pugh said.'

Hold the phone there Christy. If you eat sausage, you are not a vegetarian. Not even a bad one.

So, a Flexitarian is someone who eats meat some of the time. Or maybe they are meat-eating vegetarians, as stated in the msnbc article http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/4541605/

Meat-eating vegetarians? What the...?

And what do vegetarians and vegans think of the f-word? Here a little sampling:

-It takes all of my self control not to scream when I hear "flexitarian".
-Damn, this makes me angry. It's this kind of crap that makes people like my grandmother ask whether I eat chicken or fish.
-I have a name for these people: Flaketarians.

Ouch.

Thankfully it's not all an us-vs-them foodfight out there. Ian MacKenzie, a writer, producer, and pop-culture blogger based in Vancouver, wrote an excellent piece called "In Defense of Flexitarianism" which is accompanied by some very well thought out comments by readers on both sides of the argument. In it he included a brief and very reasonable manifesto for responsible eating that falls very much in line with the writings of Michael Pollan, and aligns with what many who call themselves Flexitarians believe about eating.

But labels and insults aside, I do believe that if one chooses to use the word to describe themselves, they should be able to eloquently and confidently describe what their own philosophy is and reduce the risk of a perfectly decent and applicable phrase being eye-rolled because someone said something ridiculous like, "I'm a Flexitarian. A meat-eating vegetarian." If you eat meat (chicken, only chicken breasts, shellfish, tilapia, worms, escargot, foie gras, goats, beetles...you get the idea) then you are not a vegetarian, plain and simple.

Anytime someone makes a choice to reduce or eliminate meat, especially factory-farmed cows, pigs, fish, birds, eggs, and dairy from their diet, they are making a positive step in the right direction. I am of the opinion that flexitarianism is only a viable option if you are not ethically opposed to the killing of animals for food, but are trying to make more responsible choices about where your meat comes from. Like vegetarianism or veganism, the ethical issues surrounding meat consumption also happen to be better choices environmentally and health-wise as well.

You cannot be a flexitarian and eat factory farmed meat, in my opinion. Call yourself a meat-eater and then go rent Food Inc. A true Flexitarian should have a well-developed sense that what they are eating is sound for animals, themselves, and the planet. Eating this way is better for everyone, no matter what you choose to label it.

En Papillote

2009-07-16T21:16:00.018-04:00

The French are soooo smart.

Tonight I was feeling a little Collette-ish and so I gave a vaguely Latin recipe the French treatment. Cooking en papillote (or "in parchment") is one of my favourite cooking methods, ever. It cooks food quickly. It cooks food perfectly. There are no dishes to wash. I could go on, but what for?

I took a rectangle of parchment paper, and off to one side, mounded 1/4 cup of organic barley couscous (far superior in flavour to semolina couscous, IMHO) mixed with 1/4 cup water and a pinch of salt. Atop this I perched (no pun intended) an organic Tilapia filet, seasoned well with salt and pepper. I had a nice poblano chili, which I blackened over a gas flame, and then finely diced. This was mixed with a smashed clove of garlic, two little tomatillos, olive oil, lime juice, salt and pepper. This was spooned over the fish, and then, with a few deft folds, I made the parcel:

After 20 minutes in a 425F oven, the package gets torn open from the top (careful of all that steam), and sprinkled with a few pepitas. Perfect. With no dishes to do, I can read a chapter or two of Return to Paris...

Viva Caprese!

2009-07-15T20:40:00.002-04:00

Oh how I love simple.

This is a photograph of what I had for dinner. Two succulent little spheres of silky, fresh Buffalo Mozzarella sliced as thin as I could manage, one perfectly ripe tomato, a drizzle of Spanish olive oil, a splash of Banyuls vinegar, sea salt, fresh pepper, and basil from my garden. It took me 5 minutes to put together, and is quite possibly the most delicious thing on the planet. It was all I could do to take the photograph before I dove in, but doesn't this look lovely perched atop a huge tuffet of thyme in the herb garden?

I'm in my happy place...

Radishes

2009-07-14T15:08:00.007-04:00

I love them. French Breakfast. Easter Egg. China Rose. Does anything else taste like a radish? Right now I have hundreds of them growing in my garden.

I do admit, that beyond a salad it isn't always easy to come up something to do with them. Of course there are creative ways with almost any food, but I also think there is some comfort in having a few foods that you are forced to eat simply.

My top three ways with a radish:

-Atop a bed of greens with whatever other vegetables I have floating about the kitchen. In this photo I used frisee, fresh peas, a little tomato, and a sprinkling of sunflower seeds, the radishes sliced paper thin, with a simple marmalade vinaigrette. You could also make a dressing that is creamy, perhaps with dill and some 30% sour cream;

-At the table, in a bowl, another bowl filled with sea salt. Dip, bite, say "mmmmm", repeat.

-Two slices of good bread, cool-ish butter, and thinly sliced French Breakfast radishes. Wash down with some lemonade or a cup of Earl Grey.

The Brittle Truth

2009-07-13T14:37:00.006-04:00

On Sunday a friend and I took a wee road trip to Stratford, Ontario to do some shooting (photographs, not the killer swans circling the Avon). Coming across an interesting looking candy shop, we darted inside to investigate. My friend is a bit of a chili pepper fanatic, so imagine his delight when we came across this little display of deliciousness:

Yes, that's right, chili garlic peanut brittle. On paper, this sounded lovely. Sweet, salty, spicy, together in one shiny, tooth-busting red package. I am a person who once ate chocolate with bacon in it, so this seemed like a no-brainer.

On the way home, we cracked the package and dove in with gusto. Apparently, the look on my face said it all. Clearly, I was not enjoying this particular culinary experience. While I frantically attempted to extract the offending object my mouth as quickly as possible, my companion ate a very, very, big piece. A good illustration of the subjective nature of taste, and food.

If you ever come across this particular item, by all means, go ahead and try it. You may enjoy the flavour of something that makes me imagine what the dried stuff on the edge of a BBQ sauce lid might taste like.

Just sayin'...

Offensive Food Around The World!!

2009-07-12T15:49:00.004-04:00

The Museum Of Questionable Foods
Originally uploaded by peterkelly

Sometimes the best way to prove the goodness of something is to have a good look at the flip side, and see what it should NOT be. There is no better way to illustrate the goodness of really, really good food.

Here then, the ugly underbelly. This is a selection of some very, very offensive food from around the world. I could comment on each item, but the photographer here has already done a great job of mocking the array of questionable items. Click on the photo to read more...

The sad part is, we really don't need to search the world for this stuff. Go to your local supermarket and check out pre-made frozen "hamburgers", complete with bun, bacon and cheese...

Fife loaves...

2009-07-11T16:30:00.001-04:00

Originally uploaded by Denim

We've got the artisinal cheeses, the heirloom tomatoes, and the local micro-greens. The olive oil is terrior, the produce organic, and the shrimp are now "Spot Prawns". It seems the next food to get the big yawn treatment in favour of the next big thing is wheat. Any locavore worth their salt knows that the wheat on the tip of everyone's tongue is Red Fife, which is actually not the next big thing at all. The heritage variety is the grandfather of all the wheat grown in Canada, and it's nutty, ruddy goodness has been showing up everywhere from the yummy sourdough loaves at Jamie Kennedy to the Red Fife pastas at the Fat Duck right here in Guelph. Not to mention like all old seed varieties, it doesn't take a high input of chemicals to yield a good crop, adding to it's value to the consumer (and chef) with a conscience.

If you feel so inclined, pick up a bag at Ouderkirk and Taylor downtown, and try your hand at a little bread mastery. Don't forget to pick up some artisinal, small-batch butter to go with it.

Mint Condition

2009-07-10T16:58:00.000-04:00

Derby Day
Originally uploaded by Meleager

As the weather (slowly) improves and I'm spending more time in the garden, I have come to the conclusion that instead of trying to tame the meandering, sprouting roots of mint that have taken over the garden, I will instead try to find more ways to use it.

A great way to use up lots of mint is to use it wherever you would use parsley. I always seem to have a bowl of chopped parsley on the counter in the kitchen, and I toss it on everything. But with that fresh, green, herbal flavour not unlike Basil, mint can go many places, and happily mingle with many flavours. Try throwing a handful into a pasta of olive oil, fresh tomato, oil-cured black olives, and garlic. Mint pesto swirls effortlessly into a bowl of pureed fresh pea soup. Or try sprinkling a generous handful over some free-range chicken that has been roasted slowly with lemon. You're getting the idea.

I especially love mint in salads. Here is a really delicious recipe for an amazing barley salad that uses mint to full advantage, adding a nice fresh note to the rich vegetables and hearty barley. And it can be made vegetarian. Yay!

MEDITERRANEAN EGGPLANT AND BARLEY SALAD
SERVES 4 (MAIN COURSE)
ACTIVE TIME:45 MIN
START TO FINISH:1 1/2 HR

The deep flavors in this lush and hearty dish are too good for anyone to pass up. Vegetarians can substitute water for the chicken broth and still enjoy the succulent, melt-in-your-mouth eggplant.

1 1/2 lb eggplant, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
3/4 lb zucchini, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
10 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon black pepper
1 cup chopped scallion (from 1 bunch)
1 1/2 teaspoons ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon ground coriander
1/4 teaspoon cayenne
1 1/4 cups pearl barley (8 oz)
1 (14-oz) can reduced-sodium chicken broth (1 3/4 cups)
3/4 cup water
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 garlic clove, minced
1/4 teaspoon sugar
1/2 lb cherry tomatoes, quartered
1/3 cup Kalamata or other brine-cured black olives, pitted and halved
1/2 cup thinly sliced red onion, rinsed and drained if desired
1 cup chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
1/2 cup chopped fresh mint

Preheat oven to 425°F.
Toss eggplant and zucchini with 5 tablespoons oil, 3/4 teaspoon salt, and 3/4 teaspoon pepper in a bowl, then spread in 2 oiled large shallow (1-inch-deep) baking pans. Roast vegetables in oven, stirring occasionally and switching position of pans halfway through baking, until vegetables are golden brown and tender, 20 to 25 minutes total. Combine vegetables in 1 pan and cool, reserving other pan for cooling barley.

COOK BARLEY:
Heat 2 tablespoons oil in a 3- to 4-quart heavy pot over moderately high heat until hot but not smoking, then cook scallion, cumin, coriander, and cayenne, stirring, until fragrant, about 1 minute. Add barley and cook, stirring until well coated with oil, 2 minutes more. Add broth and water and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer, covered, until all of liquid is absorbed and barley is tender, 30 to 40 minutes. Remove from heat and let stand, covered, 5 minutes. Transfer to reserved shallow baking pan and spread to quickly cool, uncovered, to room temperature, about 20 minutes.
MAKE DRESSING AND ASSEMBLE SALAD:
Whisk together lemon juice, garlic, sugar, and remaining 1/4 teaspoon salt, 1/4 teaspoon pepper, and 3 tablespoons oil in a large bowl. Add barley, roasted vegetables, and remaining ingredients to bowl with dressing and toss until combined well. Serve with cheese slices.
COOKS’ NOTE: Salad can be made 1 day ahead and chilled, covered. Return to room temperature before serving

Computer Woes

2009-07-02T14:27:00.004-04:00

It's such a shame technology gets in the way of much more enjoyable things, like writing about food. After several nightmarish episodes of replacing modems and dealing with tech support, Food Is Good is back online.

While not wanting to bite the hand that feeds me (if someone writes a blog but there is no technology to share it, does it exist?) at this point I humbly promise no never mention anything remotely technical again, unless it contains the word "butter".

See you tomorrow,
Kelly.

Cookies

2009-04-29T19:51:00.001-04:00

Cookies
Originally uploaded by rbhamjee

Part of why I chose a career in food and why it continues to intrigue me every day, is the seemingly endless possibilities there are to get creative. Sometimes hours or even days of elaborate planning go into the execution of a dish (if you don't believe me, check out the book "A Day At El Bulli", It's at the Bookshelf on Quebec Street in Guelph, among other places. You'll see what I mean).

Then there are those times when something incredibly simple happens. A few ingredients come together, and the sheer beauty of the food itself is allowed to shine through. You taste it, and the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. Panzanella comes to mind. It is nothing more than bread, ripe tomatoes, cucumber, red onion, olive oil, sea salt, and a bit of vinegar. On their own, the ingredients are fine, but when tossed together to frolic in a big bowl, magic happens. The salt and the vinegar draw the juices out of the tomatoes, cucumber, and onions. The juices hit the olive oil, and the whole lot is soaked into the chewy bread. Sublime.

So what does all this have to do with cookies? It is that sometimes you can take something no more complicated than a stack of cookies, photograph them against a bit of smoky grey, and suddenly, beauty appears. Like everything else around us, there is beauty to be found in the simplest of objects. Those who can see it in food, which nourishes and nurtures us, and translate it into art, have a special gift indeed.

I'm very pleased to be featuring the work of some very talented local photographers (like Rashaad, who created our cookie shot today) and their amazing food shots in future blog posts. Click on the photo to see more of their work.

Perfect Pancakes

2009-04-29T08:36:00.001-04:00

What I Ate On Sunday Morning
Originally uploaded by kellyhughes1970

Ok, so I can't post about bacon and not mention the pancakes. I was recently asked the secret to crispy, golden brown, high, and fluffy pancakes. Is it the batter? The cooking surface? The temperature? Well, it's all those things...but mostly the butter. Read on.

First I start with a great recipe. I would love to say these are mine, but the recipe comes from the now-closed Mildred Pierce Restaurant (replaced with the the just-as-fabulous Mildred's Temple Kitchen. www.templekitchen.com) They are made with just a few ingredients, as it should be, and they are the bomb. Whatever recipe you use, never, EVER overmix the batter. This is pancake death. It should be barely mixed, with no dry bits, but still lumpy. Overmixing deflates all the bubbles and gives you those flat, stodgy things that masquerade as pancakes (you know who you are, pancake imposters!)

Next, my cooking implement of choice is a flat-top grill or griddle. Heated to 375F, this is what provides even heat and adds to the crispy outside. Cook them until bubbles burst the surface, then flip, ONCE. Ever watched someone flip food over, and over, be it a pancake, a burger, or steak? When you cook something, leave it alone, let it cook on one side completely before flipping it over.

Last, it's all about the butter folks. If you use a non-stick pan, you will not get crispy, golden brown pancakes. The surface will be rubbery, and an allover, flat brown. You will not get the crispy outside edges that are so fun to snag while you're waiting for the rest to cook. Butter the griddle generously between every batch. And if I see you spraying your griddle with PAM or some other canned vegetable oil product, you will be voted off the island.

Of course, slathering the finished product with butter and drizzling with the best maple syrup you can find goes without saying. I have a completely different place to send people who use...gulp..."butter flavoured syrup"....egads!

My Favourite Bacon

2009-04-28T23:03:00.001-04:00

My Favourite Bacon
Originally uploaded by kellyhughes1970

I am usually at the Guelph Farmers Market on Saturday mornings. This Saturday was no different, except for the fact that this Saturday, I brought more money than usual. I tell you why in a minute.

But first let's talk bacon. Anyone who knows me is well aware of my love-on for bacon. Here's the thing about bacon. You can eat it, yes. And I do, with buttermilk pancakes, scrambled eggs, in a BLT, you name it. You can flavour with it, like when you start a potato chowder by rendering a bunch of diced bacon, then sauteing the onions/leeks/potatoes in the rendered fat. You can use bacon to drape over another piece of meat to add flavour and moisture (from the melting fat, of course). You can even make salad with it, whisking grainy mustard and red wine vinegar into the fat of tiny cubes of bacon which have been cooked until crisp, the warm concoction gently wilting the salad greens into submission.

My favourite bacon comes from the market. You know the guys, the ones where the lineup surpasses even that of the Mennonite Cider Doughnut Girls. The one where you must jockey for position just to take a number. That's where I get my bacon.

It was on one of my usual Saturday jaunts I saw it. A sign above the counter, which read, "we are leaving the market". What? First Monforte, and now this? Convinced that a visit to the aforementioned Mennonite Cider Doughnut Girls had brought on a case of high blood sugar induced dyslexia, I asked what was up. It turns out the stiffer guidelines imposed on all meat producers since the listeria incident had made it prohibitive for my bacon guy to stay in business. So April 25th was it. B-day. The last day to get my last pound of my favourite bacon. Like a man on death row planning his last meal, all week I pondered what I would make with the last pound. In the end I couldn't decide, so that's why I brought more money, to buy more bacon. Enough for breakfast twice, some frisee au lardons, and maybe one more thing. I got to the point where the thought of freezing one slice at -100 to be thawed out 30 years from now for cloning purposes did not seem out of the question.

You can't imagine my delight when, number 53 in hand, I got to the counter on April 25th and saw a new sign. My bacon guy was going to hang in and give it a go for a little while longer. I still bought two pounds, just in case.

Go the the market, this Saturday, buy the best bacon you will ever eat from a local guy trying to keep afloat, and make this:

FRISEE AUX LARDONS (CURLY ENDIVE SALAD WITH BACON)

This rustic salad is popular all over France, and it now a ubiquitous addition to most bistro menus. When they are in season, dandelion greens often replace the frisée, and the salad is sometimes topped with a soft poached egg. Yum!

Serves 4

6 cups curly endive or escarole leaves 6 tbsp. extra virgin olive oil
6 slices thick-cut bacon, cut crossways 1 cup white bread cubes
into thin strips 1 small clove garlic, minced
1 tbsp. red wine vinegar 2 tsp. Dijon mustard
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

1. Tear the lettuce into bite-sized pieces and place in a large salad bowl.

2. Place a frying pan over medium-low heat, and add the bacon. Cook gently until well-browned and the fat has been rendered, stirring occasionally. Remove the bacon with a slotted spoon and drain on paper towels.

3. Add 2 tbsp. of the olive oil to the pan. Fry the bread cubes, or croutons, over medium-high heat, turning frequently, until evenly browned. Remove the croutons and drain on paper towels. Discard any remaining oil in pan and wipe out with a paper towel.

4. Return the pan to medium heat. Add the mustard and garlic and cook for 30 seconds. Whisk in the vinegar and bring to a boil. Remove from heat. Whisk in remaining oil. Immediately pour over salad. Add croutons and bacon, and toss to combine. Serve immediately.

Gardening Like a Chef

2009-04-25T22:14:00.000-04:00

Lately there has been a lot of buzz surrounding the farm-to-table movement, and with it the corresponding creation of restaurants by chefs who wholeheartedly embrace the concept. Essentially the idea is to eliminate the store or supplier, and receive the freshest and best of a particular area directly from the farmer where it becomes the days menu. Treadwells in Port Dalousie is a prime example of this. Taken further, the chef can open the restaurant directly on the farm (a la Michael and Nobuyo Stadtlander at Eigensinn Farm) or nurture a lasting symbiotic relationship such as that between Chef Jeff Crump of the Ancaster Old Mill and ManoRun Farm.

In the decades that have seen the rise (and hopefully in time, the fall) of factory-farming, it's good to remember that farm-to-table isn't a new idea. It has been the norm in European restaurants for decades, and now more and more chefs here are creating their menus based on the specialties of the unique regions where they live.

But it isn't just restaurants getting on board. It used to be that the kitchen garden was a necessary component in every household. If you choose to buy locally, it will probably become necessary to augment your supply with the fruits (and vegetables) of your own garden. For me, this is the year. I've set aside a little more than half of the usable space in my back garden to be devoted entirely to my kitchen garden. Last year saw the arrival of the herb garden, just off the back door, leading directly from the kitchen.

Anyone who has ever bought grass seed or scattered "weed 'n' feed" over their grass in the spring, has obviously never tried to tear out large quantities of sod. It's tenacity always amazes me, but as of today I've managed to clear away half.

And for when I'm ready to plant, this is my favourite source for seeds:

http://www.cooksgarden.com/

Yes, they are American, but they have such an amazing selection of rare and heirloom seed, as well as varieties of vegetables (chioggia beets, flageolets, yellow French filet Beans) to turn on chefs and dedicated foodies alike.

Also try Cookstown Greens:

http://www.cookstowngreens.com/

I will write more on this amazing place in a future blog. They not only supply chefs and caterers (like me!) with the most gorgeously tended rare heirloom vegetables grown right on their farm, but they also sell seeds to the public.

I can't think of anything more wonderful and romantic than having your own kitchen garden, can you? More photos to come...

Food+Photography=Love

2009-02-09T23:36:00.000-05:00

Besides cooking, I also love taking pictures, and especially love taking pictures of my city. Taking my own pictures lets me document all my foodie adventures, and one day I hope to shoot my own cookbook. My local photography club has so many wickedly talented people in it, that I thought I'd share this great blog that showcases some of their fantastic work shooting in and around Guelph. Enjoy!

Blog Guelph: Great Guelph Photos and Cool Blog Links by Creative Guelphites

2009-02-09T23:35:00.000-05:00

Blog Guelph: Great Guelph Photos and Cool Blog Links by Creative Guelphites

Olive et Gourmando

2009-02-06T23:48:00.000-05:00

Whenever I travel, finding a new restaurant to try is pretty much number one on my list of priorities. This time however, traipsing through Montreal with the beginnings of a nasty flu, all I craved was the comfortable nook that is Olive et Gourmando. It was absolutely freezing outside, but a bowl of their creamy puree of white bean, leek, and smoky bacon soup topped with a swirl of chartreuse chive oil and creme fraiche was just what the docteur ordered. One of their famous buttery-beyond-belief Valhrona brioche I took for the road, washed down with a steaming espresso back at my hotel. The wide swaths of honed wood, glass, and simple, rustic food makes for some great photo-ops too.

The beauty is in the simplicty, which is, of course, what great food usually is usually about.

Olive et Gourmando

351 Saint-Paul West

Old Montreal, Quebec.

(514)35o-1083

http://www.oliveetgourmando.com/index_flash.cfm

A Walk Down The Lane

2008-11-20T23:47:00.000-05:00

So, exactly what does a chef do to unwind? Sometimes it's as simple as heading home to a bottle of really good Riesling and a bit of Sauvagine, knowing that for the rest of the evening, we don't have to cook another thing. Other times, it's about networking, and when people in the biz get together to shoot the breeze about everything from terrior to the pros and cons of buying into shared agriculture, we do it up.

I recently had the amazing pleasure of getting together with some of the best in the industry to do just that. The venue was the private dining room at Colborne Lane. Our host was Claudio Aprile and his tight crew of uber-knowledgable staff. That should have been enough, but the gilding-the-lily guest list paired with Aprile's inspired and simplified brand of molecular gastronomy and a few hours to pore over the first draft of someones cookbook (while listening to Soundgarden, no less) pretty much guaranteed we were in for a major treat.

I'm still dreaming about Claudio's take on "fast food"...a teeny, meltingly tender little chicken thigh, bone-exposed, crisp skinned and served with a smear of heavenly smoky "barbecue sauce". Not to be accused of lacking drama, our creme fraiche ice cream was made in thirty seconds table-side using a big stainless steel bowl and liquid nitrogen. A creamier ice cream is not to be had. I have no shame. I asked for seconds.

Behold, the spoils...

2008-11-11T10:17:00.000-05:00

Having somewhat reluctantly said goodbye to Montreal, I am now back home in Guelph. What a trip. The good news is, only 4 sleeps until market day!

With 4 hours until my flight, I walked back to the hotel (which, according to my friend and Montrealer Sean, is with more than a touch of derision referred to by locals as "The Cheese Grater", and if you're from Montreal you know what I'm talking about) I opened my suitcase, purchased in the largest size possible to facilitate transport of my culinary booty, and loaded it up with the spoils of the trip. A curious mixture of satisfaction and disappointment came over me as I packed, and it was time to face reality. The bag that had looked so huge and empty when I left, was now completely and utterly, full. The bags of duck legs, crisp white paper wrapped cheeses, the slices of terrine de lapin and pâte campagne de grandpere, the glorious Rosette de Lyon dry sausages from charcuterie Papille, the duck fat, and the tubs of tiny Niçoise olives were packed in that suitcase like elegant sardines. But I still had four hours left! There was still the kitchen store in Old Montreal! The ficelle and les croissants d'amandes at Pain D'or! My reverie suddenly left me as I imagined the ugly scene at the airport, my bag confiscated, deemed by security to be a dangerous explosive by virtue of the sheer force being exerted on the zipper, and me hauled off to the big house without ever having tasted the raw milk Brie! I fell just short of picturing the horrified faces of the passengers as the zipper finally gave way and the ricocheting ducks and cheese took out a flight attendant and two baggage handlers. I was done.

After one last meal (smoked meat on rye at Schwartzes...good thing I had four hours, as the lineup is always justifiably long) I headed to the airport. I'm sure duck legs are not the weirdest thing to be scanned at the baggage check. Still, I wish I had a photo of the x-rayed contents of my bag.

So now the fun begins. This Saturday marks the occasion of my first party in the new place in Guelph, 40 friends for an open house. The suitcase-stuffing incident arose out not out of sheer gluttony, but a desire to share it. I love to entertain, and while I love to cook, usually the food I put out at parties has very little to do with cooking, and everything to do with simplicity. I really hate having to loiter by the kitchen door, listening for the timer, taking yet another tray of hot hors d'oeuvres out of the oven just in time to hear a roar of laughter from the opposite corner, and someone saying "that was the funniest story!...EVER!". A good host is not chained to the stove. While most "party food" is about taking simple ingredients and making them fussy, I much prefer to take great ingredients, and serve them simply. So the beautiful sausages and pâtes and terrines, cheeses, olives, Marcona almonds, a couple of tapenades, some bread and crackers, arranged for mass nibbling and washed down with good wine with great friends, is my idea of a good time. I also find great food, especially something interesting that people haven't had before, makes for great conversation. Further evidence (like we needed it) that food is, indeed, good.

Montreal, Day 3, Part deux: A Little Snack

2008-11-10T22:55:00.000-05:00

Yes, this is a photo of crispy, golden, deep-fried calamari. Before I go any further, let me just say that yes, I hit Jean-Talon and gorged myself on cheese and pâte and cretons* and a motherlode of seafood cooked in sizzling oil and dipped in some sort of spicy mayo, but I also ditched le metro and did the 80-minute round trip walk to get to the market from the hotel. I figure I had worked these puppies off by the time I hit Rue St. Laurent, so I indulged, guilt-free.

After trawling the alley outside for some produce photo-ops, I made my way inside and feeling peckish, saw one...two..three...four...a veritable parade of hungry marketers leaving the humble-looking Aqua Mare with heaping plastic containers of the most divine looking crispy squid rings. I gingerly entered the shop, pretending to ogle the arrayof gilthead seabream, gorgeous snowy white princess scallops, and Greek striped bass while my eyes kept flitting over to the vat of hot oil tucked in the corner, and the little bits of heaven coming out of it. For a mere $6.99, there is enough for two, sizzling hot, complete with sauce and a fat wedge of lemon. The real genius is the seating, located immediately beside the entrance to the market. Snag one (if you can) and tuck in, then watch as you become Aqua Mare's own free advertising. The sight and smell of all that deliciousness is enough to make anyone put off their shopping for a while and make a beeline for the deep fryer.

*Cretons: My absolute favourite guilty pleasure, les cretons is a pork spread made with a good fatty piece of pork (ok, the butt) which is ground, and then simmered with onions and spices (cloves always, cinnamon and allspice, sometimes) until all the liquid evaporates. Once cooled, the rendered fat is then stirred in to incorporate it into the pork, and the whole lot is packed into little jars, at the ready to spread on hot toast for breakfast, so that the fat slowly melts into the toast. Sigh. Finding it in Ontario is almost impossible, and when you do it's usually sub-par, made with ground pork that has not been rendered but simply cooked up and mixed with fat. One bite of the real deal transports me back to childhood trips to see my grandparents in St. Lambert. Since then, no trip to Quebec is complete without a little taste. Luckily I found some in the market at Les Saveurs Charlevoix. Did I mention the little grill they have out front to fire up some of their little spicy veal sausages to serve...on a stick??? Life is good...

Montreal, Day 3: My New Boyfriend.

2008-11-09T23:39:00.000-05:00

After two days of steady drizzle, the sun finally made an appearance in time for a visit to the always colourful marché Jean-Talon. Not since the cookbook archives three days ago have I been so close to paradise! I love this place for so many reasons. This is the more upscale Atwater market's slightly edgier cousin, a little rough around the edges but oozing character and charm. Cousin Jean's gritty quality is what makes him endearing and real, and real is sexy. I think I'm in love.

I skipped breakfast and stuck with coffee, knowing full well that when I arrived at this place that encapsulates everything I love about food, there would be some serious eating going on. Strategically visiting the stalls that would keep my load light for the longest (the 5 pounds of duck legs and fat for confit would have to wait) I started with a wee spending spree at Qui Lait Cru? which carries a slew of glorious raw milk cheeses from all over Quebec. I picked up a couple of my old favourites to nibble on while I shopped (Riopelle, Baluchon, and a nice hunk of Sauvagine) which are readily available at my local cheese shop. Not so the Cap Rond washed-rind raw milk goat cheese, or the Victor et Berthol Reserve, a raw cows milk cheese, harder, with a rich round nuttiness reminiscent of Niagara Gold, only much mellower. Brie de Meaux, also made from raw cows milk is one I have not tried yet, but the thought of brie made with unpasteurized milk made me weak in the knees. Inspired by the 7th course at Toque! I also picked up a piece of the Alfred le Fermier, which at the restaurant was served so paper thin you could read the humongous bill through it. A tiny round of Bouquetin de Pontneuf (one of my favourite dairies in Quebec) and some Cendre de Pres (washed rind, unripened, with a layer of wood ash) rounded out the list. I'll certainly be sharing some of the spoils with someone. I wonder if Jean is free this weekend...

Montreal, Day 2: Profoundly Crazy, Or Passionately Determined?

2008-11-09T00:34:00.000-05:00

I really should not have had steak tartare for lunch.

I usually eat only one meal a day and graze for the rest, so I'm not sure quite what I was thinking eating a mound of raw beef when a mere 4 1/2 hours later I would be tucking into the 7-course tasting menu at the wonderful Toqué! on rue Jean-Paul Riopélle. Each and every morsel was a gem-like treasure, including a wee amuse of potato foam atop sour cream atop tiny specks of chive in a drop of melted butter, the whole thing wrapped, corkscrew-style, with a frissele. I think my exact words to the server taking away my plate was, "yum."

The word Toqué, loosely translated, can mean either one has completely lost their marbles (as in, "il est trés toqué") or is possessed by a passionate determination that drives them forward (thank you Wikipedia). Chef Normand Laprise gleefully mixes in a bit of both, and we are the luckier for it.

I could go into great detail about each and every dish, but that isn't the point today. It was an absolutely magnificent meal. What I ate:

1. the aforementioned potato foam amuse;
2. ceviche of Nova Scotian princess mussels, cranberry water, and apple foam;
3. terrine of monkfish liver, sake jelly, daikon, and organic soy;
4. caramelized mackerel in vegetable reduction, eggplant caviar, and toasted sesame;
5. crispy duck thigh, toasted hazelnuts, beet reduction, pickled mustard seeds;
6. rare filet of venison, roasted rutabaga, confit garlic, parsnip purée, blueberry and strawberry crisps;
7. Alfred le Fermier (Alfred the Farmer) cheese, chestnut apple, bread fried in olive oil, and pear purée;
8. Caramelized Cortland apple, sour cream, coconut powder, and tart apple sorbet.

Paradise, found.

2008-11-08T22:57:00.000-05:00

Say Guelph, and what comes to mind? If you said manure, I won't hold it against you.

Guelph, and Wellington County in general, has a long and storied past as one of the most important centres for food and agriculture in Ontario, and Canada. The University of Guelph has always been synonymous with veterinary medicine, biological sciences and agriculture, and now more than ever, scientists, researchers, and food activists alike are dedicated to cultivating a new understanding about the impact of not just what we eat, but how we eat. Thanks to Alisa Smith and J.R. MacKinnon, the "100-mile diet" has now become a household phrase. Buying and cooking food has been infused with a new sense of purpose and responsibility. Much of the work that goes on at the U of G supports this new way of thinking, and the future where our tables are laid with only the fresh, the local, and the seasonal, is well within our grasp.

It seems appropriate then, that Canada's largest collection of cookbooks is housed in the Archives and Special Collection at the U of G library. I was so fortunate to have the opportunity to be given a guided tour, complete with anecdotes about Canada's rich and colourful food history read by none other than Anita Stewart, who has been called the "patron saint of cuisine in Canada". It's not uncommon for myself and my peers to feel ambivalent at times about what we do. In the most fundamental sense, food and eating is necessary to sustain life, and in a broader sweep, a valuable cultural experience. But can food, dining, and cooking change the world? Is where the steak came from and where the frites were grown really matter? Does food have meaning? Anita's answer was yes. Her message was inspiring, challenging all those in the food industry to reach deeper, to see ourselves as the caretakers of our future society. It seems like a stretch. Food professionals, caretakers of society? But think about it; from the people who decide what goes on our grocery shelves, to the chefs who choose whether or not to buy what is readily available (and cheap) or to source ingredients from local growers, food professionals in Canada (and the world) have a huge responsibility if we are serious about making fresh and local the status quo. From those who develop new products for supermarkets to high-end chefs and small town caterers, we are the future of Canada's tables, our influence is far-reaching, and the work we do is important.

After our visit with Anita, our guide for the day led us to the cookbook archives, collections of magnificent books acquired from the likes of Edward Johnson, the old Rockwood Academy, Una Abrahamson, and the wonderful Edna Staebler, who was one of the first food writers to extol the virtues of eating locally and seasonally through her sharing of old order Mennonite recipes passed down from her mother and grandmother in her great cookbook (one of many) "Food that Really Schmecks." The book vaults were opened one by one and the unmistakable smell of all those old books was as delicious to me as freshly-baked bread as I browsed in reverence through the chilly temperature-controlled stacks. Many of the titles were poignant, funny, and very dated. Apparently, women once cooked "To Make Your Man Happy", we learned how to keep a good table for sixteen shillings a week, and at some point in the early seventies we needed a cookbook devoted entirely to deep-fat frying. The library also had a first-edition of one of my favourite books of all, "Beeton's Book of Household Management", first published in 1861. I acquired a copy of this massive guide to all things domestic when I was still in my early twenties, and I still love reading how to properly clean leeks from the garden or make freshly-caught rabbit stew from beginning to end. All of a sudden, Mrs. Beeton is current again. If we haven't grown the leeks or trapped the rabbit (or chicken) ourselves, chances are we can get them from someone who did.

As with any branch of history, eventually it all comes full circle. Fresh, local, and seasonal was all our great-grandmothers knew. Perhaps an attainable goal, is that it be all our children know, too.

*********************************************
After a Sunday afternoon of raking leaves or planting bulbs, I love to come in and smell this cooking. Roast chicken, like bread baking or warm cookies, just says home.

Whole Chicken with Roasted Garlic Rub

1 whole free-range roasting chicken, approx. 3-4 pounds
1 whole head garlic
Olive oil
2 tbsp. chopped fresh herbs, such as rosemary, thyme, sage, or parsley
Coarse salt
Black pepper

Preheat oven to 400F. Place head of garlic on a square of aluminum foil. Drizzle with 1 tsp. of the olive oil. Wrap tightly. Bake 1 hour. Remove from oven and open foil to cool garlic. When cool enough to handle, squeeze garlic from skins into a small bowl. Add chopped herbs, 1 tbsp. of olive oil, and a pinch each of salt and pepper. Wash chicken and pat dry. Loosen the skin of the chicken by running fingers underneath breast skin and thigh skin. Rub the roasted garlic mixture under the skin. Truss chicken with string. Season outside of chicken with sat and pepper. Place in a shallow roasting pan, skin side up. Bake at 400F for 1 hour and 30 minutes, or until a meat thermometer registers 185F. Remove from pan. Place chicken on cutting board, and allow to rest for 10-15 minutes before cutting. Serves 4.

Food is Good...in Montreal. And, taking back the meal.

2008-11-07T23:24:00.001-05:00

Nobody said the life of a chef was an easy one, and this past week has been no exception. Besides catering, writing, and teaching, freelancing is a big part of what I do. Up until a few years ago, I didn't even know a "freelance chef" existed, and neither do most people. From magazines to television to the product development arena, freelancers are often the ones behind the scenes prepping, cooking, and brainstorming to realize someone else's vision. And so last week, it began: a four-day freelance job which entailed prepping into the wee hours for a television broadcast led straight into another gig whipping up some Mexican specialties (sea bass ceviche, marinated pork tenderloin with mole sauce, chocolate pastel tres leches) for a corporate tasting. On Tuesday, the equation looked something like this: 4 chefs, 20 healthy-themed recipes, and an hour-and-a-half to pull them all together and make them look gorgeous for another corporate job in product development.

Before we break out the violins, let me say that not only do I love what I do, but I am now happily ensconced in a very comfortable hotel room, complete with soaker tub and so many pillows on the bed I have lost count, in one of my favourite places to eat and explore, Montreal. Half pleasure/half work (ok, 70/30) has brought me here, and no time was wasted in planning a few culinary adventures to smooth over the after-effects of 6 days of work on 26 hours of sleep. Soon after touchdown, it was on to the hotel to unload the bags, and then straight to Aix Cuisine de Terrior on Côte de la Place d'Armes in lovely old Montreal. I think this is where I would like to be buried, seriously. Lay me out on one of the beautiful honed wood benches, bathed in soft light from the linen lanterns, and as the procession goes by, feed them bites of exquisite Brome Lake duck confit. And let my obit read, "At the bequest of the deceased, in lieu of flowers, bouquets of micro greens drenched in Niagara Minus 8 vinegar would be most appreciated." If only I were here for a week. Lundi would be Boileau deer filet & sausage with wild rice and pistachio pilaf; Mardi the Charlevoix veal chop smothered in wild mushrooms atop pomme purée, mercredi...well, you get the idea. As it was I was forced to decide and it was a wise choice: halibut, meltingly supple, atop braised leek in a languid pool of lobster bisque threaded with saffron. Divine. I'm definitely not ready to die just yet.

Today, after a touch of shopping (girl first, chef second) it was a wonderful reunion with Sean, a dear old friend from my days in culinary school. He and I enjoyed an utterly civilized two-and-a-half hour lunch at L'Express while catching up. This place is a good, honest bistro. The water glasses are never empty, the menu is short and handwritten, and the wine list long. House-made cornichons are brought in a massive glass jar to the table, opened, and left for the duration of the meal with a pair of wooden tongs for intermittent dips. After convincing myself that steak tartare with a side of frites and gloriously eggy mayonnaise is a perfectly acceptable meal for midday thank you very much, Sean and I talked food. Having moved here with his partner seven months ago from Toronto, he and I had a good wag about the differences in attitude toward dining in Toronto and Montreal. There is an easy way about meals here that would in Toronto result in servers being taken to task for painfully slow service. What could be interpreted as a lack attentiveness somewhere else, here reads relaxed. Honestly, do we really need someone coming to our table every 5 or 10 minutes making sure we are "ok"? A bottle of wine needs time to drink; luscious raw beef, ice cold and chopped with shallot, caper, and pepper is not to be wolfed, lest you lose the nuances of flavour that are the reason one eats raw beef in the first place. And Ile Flottant, as delicate as blown glass and washed down with a steaming Americano, isn't going anywhere. I wish I could do this everyday, even if it's just one meal, let the experience of the food, the eating, and the company wash over you. Listen to the glasses being filled, and just become one with the rhythm of the people and plates and the din of the place. After lunch, Sean and I both agreed that this is what a meal should be, and not just another obligation to be filled, a job to do, condensed down to a series of strung together bites at your desk or worse, behind the wheel. Whether or not we have the luxury of a two hour lunch or just a half hour to treat ourselves to a bite of cheese, some bread, and a few olives, if we can step away mentally and savour it, I believe our overall quality of life will be greatly improved. We will spend 45 minutes to have our nails done, but not to eat? Our society needs to take back the meal.

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When I eat breakfast with my children, whether it is a school day or Sunday morning, the scrubbed pine table in the kitchen is covered with an old linen cloth, or some boutis placemats (so easy to wash, and the provenҫal floral pattern means I don't need to wash them much...the French are onto something). We drink out of cups and saucers. There is usually a loaf of bread, still on the cutting board, sprawled on the table with the butter. Milk and tea and fruit smack in the middle, and whatever we are eating (sometimes the thick, salty bacon from the Guelph market, a little cheese, or soft boiled Rowe Farm eggs) on a big platter so everyone can decide how much or little they want. Sometimes we only have a half hour, and sometimes more, but we always sit, and talk about what the day will bring. Sometimes after they have left, I look at that table, washed in morning sunlight, the used dishes and platters and cups sitting like a still-life testament to the beauty of a meal that is shared, and know that this little thing that we do is feeding our very souls.

A Delicious Indiscretion

2008-11-04T14:57:00.000-05:00

It started out innocently enough.

Enjoying a little GNI (girls night in), the friend in question, (we'll call her "H.B."), confided in me, as we lounged in our pajamas, reading magazines and nibbling on some lovely dry-cured sausage, olives, and some Boursin smeared on crisp flatbreads. It seems her significant other told her something very disturbing, and it has rattled her to the very core. I admit, when she told me, I was also taken aback, Surely she must be mistaken. She obviously heard wrong, or misunderstood. It couldn't possibly be true. But she assured me, it was. It seems the object of her affection doesn't like cheese.

I should clarify, he does like cheese. But it's less "covered in luscious moldy bloom" and more of "600g for $4.99. I think she said his favourite cheese was something called "marble". I'm not exactly sure if that is cheese, but I digress. All I know is that "H" has done that naughty thing that one sometimes does when something is missing in one's relationship. She has looked for it...um...elsewhere.

Since that fateful night, we have met on several occasions, usually at my place, but occasionally at hers. We eat cheese in the kitchen, on the living room sofa, and occasionally, standing up. Sometimes there are crackers, flatbreads, or baguette, some olives or a little fig tapenade. If we are in a hurry, it's straight up.

She's not sure if he suspects anything, but it doesn't seem to matter. Whether it will be with chronic heart disease or him catching her with her fingers in the Riopelle, it can only end badly. Yet, swooning with the pungent scent of my latest procurement, inhaling wedge and wheel with giddy abandon, we continue on this slippery slope. It may likely come down to the cliched "it's the cheese, or me" ultimatum. Clearly, a no-brainer...

My den of sin, I mean, favourite cheese shop in Guelph: Ouderkirk & Taylor

http://members.guelphdirect.info/Ouderkirk_Taylor-I/

For Fear of Being Labelled a Tart

2008-10-03T19:04:00.001-04:00

In my travels and various forays into the world of food around me, among the vague references to bottarga and the search for the world's best almond kringle, I every so often stumble upon a recipe so wonderful, it makes it into "the bible". Every chef I know has one. It is the little black book of those recipes that we cannot live without, the true gems that withstand multiple preparations and never fail us. They make dinner guests and clients swoon, or are just such reliable stand-bys they can be relied on in a pinch to never let us down. Mine came to be when I first began cooking professionally. The chef said to me, "get a notebook." And I did. 16 years later it is splattered and torn from use, and still indispensable and thick with new additions. This naughty little Sea Salted Caramel Tart is one of the latest.

I know I already included a recipe for a tart in an earlier post. I like tarts, so sue me. I suppose you are what you eat, so here it is, Tart #2. Make it and eat it. I won't say I told you so.

Sea Salted Caramel Tart

For a really cool twist, use some Maldon Smoked Sea Salt instead of regular sea salt. If you have the energy, a batch of Creme Fraiche Ice Cream will take you from dizzy with delight to downright collapsed on the floor in bliss.

By the way, when I bake, I weigh. Get yourself an inexpensive kitchen scale, and use it. It's more accurate than measuring, and will make the difference between a tough pastry crust and a flaky, tender piece of heaven...

Pastry
175g all purpose flour
15g icing sugar
90g salted butter, chilled and cubed
1 large egg yolk

Filling
300g sugar
250ml 18% cream
175g Salted butter
¼ tsp Sea salt (I like to use fleur de sel for this)

1. Briefly pulse the flour, icing sugar and a pinch of salt in a food processor. Add the butter and blitz until it resembles dry breadcrumbs. Add the egg yolk and 4 tsp chilled water; pulse again to bring it together. Chill for 30 minutes.
2. Preheat the oven to 350F and put in a baking sheet. Roll the pastry out to a thickness of ½cm. Use it to line a 10" tart pan (the fluted kind with a removable bottom works best), leaving a little pastry overhanging all the way round. Poke the base all over with a fork and place in the freezer for 15 minutes.
3. Line the tart with greaseproof paper and baking beans; slide it onto the baking sheet and cook for 15 minutes; remove the paper and beans and cook for 10 minutes further. Cool for 10 minutes then trim the excess pastry to neaten. (This is called blind baking.)
Put the sugar in a heavy-based frying pan with 1 tbsp water; heat until the sugar dissolves but do not stir. Increase the heat and boil until it turns amber. Add the cream (the mixture may splutter); and the butter. Simmer for 3 minutes. Pour into the prepared tart shell and chill for 6 hours to set. Before serving, sprinkle over the sea salt.

And so it begins...

2008-09-30T21:18:00.001-04:00

It starts in the morning. Early. From the moment I wake, to the surrender of sleep in the evening, you are there.

Our relationship has had its ups and downs, but for the most part, you've always been there for me. In the morning when I wake, I know I don't need to look very hard or far to find you. My excitement never wanes, because you are never the same. It is the thing I love most about you! If you have ever disappointed me, it was usually because of something I did, or failed to do. Over the years I've learned to love and respect you more as my knowledge of you grows. You have been here for me in sickness (chicken broth with ginger) and in health (beef tenderloin, nest of leeks, Dauphinoise potato, Madeira jus, creme brulee) To have (a collection of cheeses from Quebec) and to hold (a perfectly ripe peach). Forsaking all others, til death do us part (I suppose that whole "chocolate in the coffin for the afterlife" thing doesn't really work, does it?). But while I am here, you are my passion, my beloved. You are food. And you are good. So good.

Today's thought: Eat dessert first. Go on, I dare you. And when you do, eat this:

Chocolate Macadamia Nut Tart

Makes one 11-inch tart

½ cup sifted all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting
½ recipe pate sucree
2 large eggs
1 cup sugar
½ tablespoon bourbon
¼ teaspoon salt
¾ cup unsalted butter (1 1/2 sticks), melted and cooled
6 ounces semisweet chocolate, chopped
2 ½ cups unsalted whole macadamia nuts (10 1/2 ounces)

1. Heat oven to 400°. On a lightly floured surface, roll pâté sucrée into a 14-inch circle. Fit pastry into an 11-inch tart pan; trim dough evenly along edges. Use trimmings to patch any thin spots in shell. Refrigerate 30 minutes. Meanwhile, in a large bowl, whisk eggs, sugar, and bourbon until combined. Whisk in flour, salt, and butter; stir in chocolate. Pour mixture into chilled tart shell. Cover top with nuts, pressing them halfway down into filling.

2. Bake for 10 minutes. Reduce heat to 350°, and continue baking until crust and nuts are golden, about 35 minutes. If tart gets too brown, place aluminum foil over top for remainder of cooking time. Cool on wire rack.