Category Archives: Ruminations on the Edible

Food inspired writing

That’s “Duchess Commoner” to you

Serenity at 4 am.

Until midnight last night I was determined not to care too much about the Royal wedding.  I set my alarm for 5am which seemed much more reasonable than 4am (and surely there was only so much footage of sentimental crowds in Union Jack T-shirts that one could make fun of).

Within one minute of my head hitting the pillow I had turned the light back on and re-set the alarm to 4am. Then double checked it.  A total sucker.  Dammit.

At 4 o’clock I  steeped myself a cup of tea using my wedding china (I just gave up all resistance) and curled up on the couch.  It was quiet and dark and insect-like fascinators were buzzing all around Westminster Abbey in HD glory.  It was like Alice in Wonderland had landed on everyone’s head.

I watched, I ate scones.  I ate all the bacon.  (Sorry family.)

I texted my friend Nic to ask if she also thought David Beckham looked hot. (she did)

My soft-boiled egg long forgotten.

I overcooked my soft-boiled eggs during the walk down the aisle. (Here’s the dress and check out Pippa!)

During the vows I used a paring knife to carve the likeness of the new Duchess of Cambridge out of a cantaloupe.

OK, I ate a ginger-cantaloupe salad (recipe below).

Essentially, I was one happy commoner.  Wills and Kate 4-Ever! T.I.D. T.I.N.D.

GINGER-MELON SALAD (adapted from the Rose Bakery Cook Book)

This is a very simple, do-ahead recipe. I think this syrup would be a nice boost when your melon (dare I say it?) might not be quite in season and less sweet.  Or try adding the ginger syrup to real iced tea.

1/2 cup sugar

1 cup water

4 cm piece fresh ginger (peeled and grated*)

juice of 1 lemon

1 cantaloupe, cut into bite-size chunks

1 honeydew, cut into bite-size chunks

Put the sugar and water into a small saucepan and simmer until sugar dissolves.

Add the grated ginger, set syrup aside to cool.

Strain syrup and add lemon juice.

Pour the syrup over the melon an hour before serving. Toss and chill.

*the original recipe suggests slicing the ginger but I think grating it infuses more flavour (since you’re straining it anyway).


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Ready or Not Here I Scone

I plan to eat a scone every 10 minutes as tribute.


CBC’s Jian Ghomesi tried to squelch my media-hyped Royal wedding anticipation on Q this morning by implying/saying straight out that there were more important things in the world than Kate and Will.  Well, too late Jian, that was my stance until last weekend but now the scones are ready to go.  (Couldn’t resist dropping the fact that you born in London though, could you? Well, so what, I’ve been to London too and took a highly informative double decker bus tour. That’s right.)

So, without further ado-my eats Friday, April 29, 2011, 4 am

Soft-boiled egg  (with Maldon sea salt of course)

Bacon and a breakfast sausage (why choose when there will be hours of wedding bonanaza)

Scone-with raisins and candied orange (it covers the “wedding fruitcake” theme)

The Duchy Original Damson preserves  (have been consuming them like crazy all week, you rock the preserves Prince Charles)

Melon salad with ginger-lemon dressing (the fruit component which makes this a healthy breakfast)

Royal Early Grey tea (seems only right)

Will post pictures at breaking dawn.  Or a lot later.

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Toast Post: Red Leicester

Red savoury heaven on Red Fife sourdough

It’s British, it’s bright orange and it’s looks slightly obnoxious on a plate.  Red Leicester will soon be your taste bud’s new BFF.  Les (all good friends should have a nickname) is so rich in savoury, nutty, sweet, umami-ness that he could be Parmesan’s bawdy, British cousin (thrice removed).  Don’t worry, he won’t overstay his welcome, in fact he’ll be gone much too soon.

It’ll be a testament to your willpower if you manage to save some for the toast you’re waiting to pop.  I shaved thin morsels of Red Leicester onto my sourdough but chunks are nice for a snack.  But not a snack you’ll want to share.  People will eye Les and as you unveil him from your lunchbox, and you might be forced to ask, “Would you like some?”  But maybe you’ll add something like,  “It’s quite past its due date but I didn’t want to waste bad cheese. God, I hope it isn’t rife with listeria from being wrapped and left out of the fridge with that cheap baloney!  Oh well, what’s life without some risks?  Please, help yourself, I insist. And take some for your baby too.

Red Leicester in 11 words or more: Leiscester (Less-ter) hails from Leiscester county in England and has been made since the 18th century.  It was original created as a use for milk left over from Stilton production.  Traditionally, it was produced in a cloth-wrapped  wheel which could weigh up to 45 lbs.  In today’s more common factory production it is often made in blocks.  Aged from 3-9 months, older is probably better in this case: firmer, flaky, concentrated flavour. The orange colour comes from annato which is the same natural dye used for orange cheddar.

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Woman has no shame: makes Christmas Stollen at Easter

“Merry Easter” Stollen

There’s no time like Easter for Christmas Stollen I always say.

My mom always makes a Czech Easter bread for the holiday called velikonoční bochánek and so I thought I would try a different festive fruit bread. What I discovered just this year (post Stollen making) is that the bochánek  is actually the same bread as the Christmas vanocka–just a different shape!   So can you really blame me for making Christmas stollen in the Spring?  One size fits all holiday breads are in my blood.

Luckily, all’s well that ends in rum-infused fruit bread.  I took my recipe from the The Bread Baker’s Apprentice. (p252) After much grumbling, this apprentice realized that the only right thing to do was to candy my own oranges to make a pure Easter stollen.  So we’ll start there.

Boiling the bitterness from the peel

Truth be told, candying citrus peels is one of those things that seem like a monumental pain (like laundry) but then you realize “Hey, I’m not washing clothes on a washboard in the river one garment at a time, I have a washing machine with steam setting.”  Essentially you peel your oranges, pith on, slice them into strips and then boil them for 3 minutes and drain (repeated 3 x) to remove their bitterness.

Wiping Down Sugar Crystals

Then you melt  sugar and water over medium heat (1 1/2 :1 ratio) essentially making simple syrup. Add your orange peel and wipe down the sides of the pot to flush off any undissolved sugar crystals to avoid crystallization later on.

Bring to a boil and then reduce to a simmer for about 1 1/2 hr or until the syrup has reduced to a quarter of the original quantity.

Candied Orange Peel ready for action

I put these on a rack to dry a bit before I diced them.  This is the point you could also roll them in sugar and dip them in chocolate, or store them in their syrup to use later.  (You can use the syrup to sweeten drinks or pour on fruit).

Let’s get to the STOLLEN (but first some raisin time) :

Candied orange and raisins soaking up a little Cointreau.

Take 1 cup raisins and one cup of the diced, candied citrus and  soak overnight in brandy, rum or schnapps.  I had Cointreau so I used that and eliminated the addition of citrus extract.

Next you make the sponge which will leaven the dough.  A simple combo of whole milk, AP flour and instant yeast.  I didn’t have whole milk so used 2% and a little bit of cream.

The sponge after fermenting about 30 minutes.

When the sponge is ready, you mix together the dry: flour, sugar, salt, orange and lemon zest and cinnamon.

And in a stand mixer on low speed (using the paddle attachment) add the sponge, an egg, butter and some warm water.  When the dough is combined you let it rest 10 minutes.  Then add in the fruit and finish kneading it in with your hands. The liquor-soaked candied fruit actually helps preserve the bread–if soaked a few days in advance it can help keep the bread for weeks. (Perhaps this was the fairy loaf that sustained Frodo in his journeys–those fae are clever with dried fruit!)

Stollen fermenting patiently.

You then cover the dough in a lightly greased bowl and let it sit for about 45 minutes to rise.  Then you can use one of two methods to form the stollen.  The method that looks cooler (and more like the blanket swaddled baby Jesus which the bread is meant to represent) or the easier loaf method which causes less cursing (and who wants to curse an edible baby Jesus) which was my choice.

For either method you flatten the dough into a rough rectangle and cover with sliced almonds and extra fruit.  You can also replace the almonds a layer of marzipan which I would do next time–I think it would add a nice moist core.

Send in the almonds.

Then you let the stollen proof for about an hour.

Proof: I made Stollen.

And finally you bake at 350 F. I baked it about 55 minutes (you can make two small loaves but I did one large) until the internal temperature was 190 F.  (hey, I wanted to get this sucker right!).  But in hindsight I would have probably taken it out sooner knowing it will still bake a little before it cools.

This won’t hurt a bit…

While it’s still warm, you brush the bread with oil and then cover with a sieve of icing sugar.  Repeat again.

Voila! Can I shake the sugar or what.

And then eat!  Lovely with a cup of tea.  Apparently the Germans like to let the stollen sit out and dry up a bit.  But maybe that was just an accident once upon a Christmas and they don’t want to admit it and now it’s a bad, bad tradition.

Or maybe they just like an excuse to “Dunk”.

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What food would I get up for at 4 AM? The Royal Question

Pass the Duchy

I had not even contemplated getting up April 29 to watch the Royal wedding, but then I started thinking about what I would eat if I did get up.  Which lead to, what breakfast would inspire me to get up at 4:00 am (I cannot get up at 2:00 am to watch the coverage as then I am not sure if I should be boiling an egg or ordering poutine with extra gravy).

To kindle the fire I purchased some just-in-case Thick Cut Orange Marmalade and Duchy Originals Damson preserve. Plus some Red Leicester cheese to get the English theme flourishing.

So I have decided to have a blog opinion poll.  I will post a new breakfast idea each day and see what draws the most response.

Still lukewarm to the plan there is no way in Royal hell I am turning on the stove at 4am.  So I am thinking of things I can pre-make.

Monday’s Menu Idea:

Maple Syrup Scones

Bacon (I will punch numbers on the microwave to acquire bacon)

Melon and ginger salad (from the Rose Bakery cook book)

Earl Grey Tea ( I already have a fragrant tin of leaves in the cupboard)

Also–I’ll need a milliner and a wine pairing that goes with early dawn and a bathrobe (accessorized with fabulous hat).  Suggestions welcome.

Tuesday’s Menu Idea:

2 soft boiled eggs, sea salt

Breakfast Sausage-would like to try the Healthy Butchers sage and onion variety

toast

Duchy Damson preserve and thick cut marmalade

Cream of Avalon Tea –Tea Emporium  (notes of cream, caramel, bergamot and citrus)

So, I know I said I wouldn’t turn on the stove, but as I warm up to the whole 4am idea I see that turning on the stove could have huge savory payback.  I could perhaps cook the sausage Thursday night and just reheat.  I could settle for that.

UPDATES: 

Thank you Natalie! Here is a wonderful Royal wedding head gear selection from KC Hats

Other people’s breakfast suggestions so far:

French toast and bacon, just Bacon, fresh croissants, cinnamon buns with lots of glaze, brie with crispy baguette and rosette de Lyon sausage, full Irish breakfast and some tomatoes to throw at the TV, toast and cream cheese topped with Vidal Icewine jelly and from my husband: Pint of Landlord. Bacon butty. Another pint of Landlord.

And perhaps the best one from Vic:  I would suggest just not going to sleep. Spend the night drinking Flora Doras.

Wed/Thursday Humming and Haw-ing:

My enthusiasm  was boosted by an email from my friend Iona who lives in England and sent a wonderfully descriptive and warm email of the excitement in London.  She noted:

“I saw lots of American presenters being taken round the area in horse and carriages and Some people next to me said that they could see the presenters of Entertainment Tonight. They were all blonde and I have no idea who they were but you may do. ”  (USA! USA!)

Posting final breakfast menu shortly.  Still can’t decide…pheasant or woodcock?

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Best Pasta Carbonara ever-unless you live in Italy and own a bunch of hens

A delicious shadow of its true self.

I took this pasta carbonara recipe from the March Cucina Italiana magazine and massacred its local, farm-raised, artisanal integrity in so many ways that I feel dirty.

So dirty that I’m baking rosemary focaccia bread in the oven as penance to Italy itself (I had to use a big tray).  The fresh baked smell of herbs and crisping crust is making me feel slightly less like a charlatan for even attempting a local dish that uses the freshest of fresh ingredients-eggs pulled from the hen’s butt with one hand while the lemons are plucked off a lemon tree with the other. Did I mention the almost extinct Cinte Sense pigs which provide the pork?  Check out the whole story which will make you want to gnaw on a piece of pancetta ASAP.  Materie Prime by Douglas Gayeton.

The good news first-if you didn’t know–true pasta carbonara does not include cream so it practically falls into the health food category.  Sure there’s the pancetta and I suppose a whole bunch of  cheese but truly–once you ammortize the fat over a few helpings it’s negligible.  I’m almost positive.

Pancetta-second best was still pretty good

The bad news starts with my use of plain old grocery store eggs (I am quite sure the hens did not forage for their own food nor were they supplemented with grains soaked in fresh goat milk).  It continues with a package of pre-cut pancetta (world’s apart from Paola Parisi’s guanciale, see below).

“Aside from being an exceptional slaughterhouse, Levoni is known for smoking meat, in this case the guanciale from Paolo’s pigs. The process requires a special machine, one resembling a rotisserie, and the burning of select woods (their type remains a secret). This slow curing takes a week to complete.”

Grana Padano

I decided to use Grana Padano since I already had it.  In a large bowl I crack the non-fresh eggs, add fresh marjoram (from a plastic container), lemon zest, minced garlic and a “Jamie Oliver” glug of olive oil.  I make some quality tagliatelle from the pantry at home. Drain the pasta. I add this to the egg mixture, toss quickly and mix in the cheese. A little pasta water smoothes it all out. It’s steamy, glossy and fragrant as I bring the fork to my mouth.

sadly, not a farm in sight.

And yet it has none of the romance, practise or purity of Paolo’s version…..

“He starts by prying massive wedges from a wheel of Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese. He hands them to his second eldest son, Rocco, who quickly goes to work with a circular grater. I am handed a corkscrew and a bottle of 2006 Ansonica from the nearby La Parrina winery. Paolo collects the dish’s materie prime, arranges them on a massive wooden table and dices thick slabs of his guanciale picked up from Levoni the previous afternoon. He grates zest from a few lemons taken from a tree just beyond the kitchen window.”

The true dish must be heavenly because even my industrial version– merely a shadow in Plato’s cave–was dreamy.  The nuance of the zingy lemon zest and grassy marjoram elevates the savoury, rich flavours.   And the whole thing comes together in the time it takes to boil pasta.

And raise a few hens.

Pasta Carbonara- adapted from Cucina Italina  (at Sam’s request!)

serves 4

The key to this recipe are the eggs.  With Farmer’s Markets opening up soon it should be easier to get fresh ones. I did use “what was in the fridge” with good results.  You can fiddle with this recipe, assume 1 egg per person and then roughly adjust the other ingredients.  I am often a nightmare without detailed guidance but it worked to “eyeball” it.

And for God’s sake–please–use real Parmigiano Reggiano.

4 fresh eggs, large

2 cloves garlic, minced very fine

3 tbsp (45 ml)  fresh marjoram leaves, pulled off the stem

zest of 1 lemon

1/4 c  (60 ml) olive oil

1 cup (250 ml) pancetta, small dice

1 lb (500 g) spaghetti ( I like Rustichella d’abruzzo, fairly easy to find, brown paper package)

1 1/2 c (375 ml) Parmigiano Reggiano (or Grana Padano), freshly grated

1. In a bowl large enough to hold the spaghetti crack the eggs, add garlic, marjoram, lemon zest and olive oil.  Whisk to combine and set aside.

2. Pan-fry your pancetta til getting crispy.  Let cool and add to the egg mixture.

3. Boil pasta, salt water generously (should taste like the sea I’ve been told!). Cook spaghetti til al dente or as per package directions. Strain and reserve 1/2 cup pasta water.

4. Add hot pasta to the egg mixture and toss until well coated.  Add the grated cheese and keep tossing until you have a glossy sauce.  Add a little bit of pasta water as necessary to thin.

5. Eat the damn thing!  (Add fresh ground pepper if you like.)

NOTE FROM SELF:  I use slightly less spaghetti for four as I like a bit more sauce-maybe 3/4 package? 4/5ths?   6/8ths?  Someone stop me…..

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Let them eat cake…at your funeral.

I find it harder to have your cake and not eat it.

Sometimes things just click. When your babysitter brings a Stubbe’s Lemon Torte to your house you know you chose the right caregiver. We picked Donna to babysit Felix after a rigorous vetting process investigating which dessert shops she frequented in Toronto.

Cake fits any occasion–a quick lunch, after a bikini wax or as a sympathy gift.  No one will know who sent what bunch of smelly lilies to a funeral but your chocolate cake gift basket will stand out like the beacon of plastic-wrapped comfort food that is is.

And let’s face it,  attendance would soar.  Next time I fantasize about who’s coming to my funeral I’m going to imagine myself in an open coffin with my hands  arranged to hold a large chocolate Krispy Bunny.  I think it will get more kids motivated to participate.  Nibbles encouraged.

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Toast Post: Riopelle

Riopelle: Butter on Butter on sunflower seed rye.

A pleasant surprise greeted me in the cheese drawer–there was just enough Riopelle left from Saturday’s cheese plate for a toast run.  (Usually my husband sniffs out a crumb of Riopelle faster than a racoon hunting down a green bin.)  I like this triple-creamer on a lean piece of toast that gets nice and crunchy so that the contrast of  crisp and buttery are in perfect harmony.

As you lean against the counter and wait for the toast to pop you might nibble on some Riopelle thinking, “Mmmmm, hit me baby one more time!  oh oh.  Now that song is in my head.  I wish I didn’t kind of like it……also I hope no one can read my mind.  Unless it’s when I’m thinking about a cool band like Arcade Fire.  Like now.”

Riopelle in 11 words or more: soft, bloomy rind, triple cream from Fromagerie de l’Île-aux-Grues in Quebec.  The Fromagerie began as a co-operative of 14 local dairy farmers in 1977 when its first cheese, Cheddar de l’Ile-aux-Grues, was born. Today, the milk is sourced from the island’s six remaining dairy farms. The cows are fed in part on hay that grows naturally on the local mud flats.  Riopelle is made from thermalized milk.  The label may say “unpasteurized” which is true in theory, but this does not mean raw milk.  Thermalization is a gentler heating process than pasteurization which  kills potentially harmful bacteria while keeping some of the milk’s beneficial microbes.

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You and Your Stupid pie crust Mario Batali

Stupid Lemon Tart with Gooseberries

“You are such a jerk,” I yelled out at Mario Batali’s cookbook photo (but with more use of the word asshole)  as the almond crust dough from his lemon tart recipe crumbled in my hands.  I actually love this recipe for its lemon filling.  It’s like making a lemon curd but then you lighten in with whipped egg whites. But whenever I go to make it I have that little “itch” in the back of my mind reminding me that something is going to make me livid.   For one thing, the quantity of crust is way too big for the 9″ tart pan (in my opinion) and secondly, it never comes together–if you x-rayed this dessert-you’d find a patchwork quilt of dough pieces which would mirror the fragmented state of my pie sanity.

And what’s up with ambiguous instructions like, “the juice of three lemons”?  Big lemons, little lemons?   I guess he means “just right” lemons.   Sorry.  This pie crust makes me angry.  It’s not the lemons, it’s me.

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I need a smoke (pt2)

Smoked salmon, lemon mayo and limey-minty-cucumbery salad

So it’s not wild salmon season yet.  Right.  I was so excited about the smoking portion of the experiment that I did not think of the fact that I wouldn’t be able to get wild salmon at this time of year (what goodness is there in life before May?).  I wanted the rich flavour you get from wild salmon so ended up with frozen (sustainably caught) sockeye  filets.

In the end I couldn’t get the smoking done Friday as I was already squeezed for time (which now  included defrosting).  Since I’d already built up anticipation levels previously reserved for Momofuku‘s arrival in Toronto it seemed best not to rush.  Do it right.  Or screw it up with plenty of time.

So here’s how it went down:

Earl Grey tea, muscovado and caster sugar smoking mixture

Saturday:

8:00 am: mixed the muscovado (dark brown) sugar, caster sugar and Earl Gray tea together.  Handily constructed two little trays from tin foil and divided up the mixture between them.  My estimate of what was “7-8 cm” wide was actually more like 13 cm.  Luckily tin foil is very squashable.

8:43 am  so many things could go wrong. Like that aside from no extractor hood, I don’t have a “tight-fitting lid” for my smoking dish.  Am going with the heavy-duty tinfoil.  Like duct tape in the cooking world, right?

Sockeye Salmon ready for a smoke

8:45  unplugged smoke detector and opened all the windows.  Put salmon on rack in roasting pan.  Covered the roasting pan and put it across two burners over med-high.  Stood there watching it.  Nothing happened.

8:55 10 minutes later the smell of caramelizing sugar and bergamot from the tea was wafting through the kitchen.  It was really lovely and mellow–I almost closed the windows to seal it in. (I could totally see “tea-smoked ” as a Body Shop perfume)

8:58  Conundrum. The recipe is broken into two parts: the general “how to” tea smoke section and then the recipe for the salmon specifically. In the salmon recipe it says to leave the salmon smoking for 3 minutes with the heat on and then turn off the heat and leave it another 3-4 minutes. Yet, as the “how to” instructions mentioned, it took about 10 minutes for the smoke to get going and begin infusing the fish.  So I was a bit confused–do the 3 minutes start after the 10 minutes?

I ended up doing two batches so as not to crowd the pan.  The first one which I left the initial 10 minutes (then 3 minutes on heat, 3 minutes off) was a bit overdone for my taste and I kicked myself for not checking it sooner.  The second round I actually put in right after I took out the first batch, heat was off, I quickly put the cover (foil) back on and left it five minutes.  Checked it and let it cook a little more, til tender and flaky.  Much better results.

Salmon under smoke tent-Round 2

The “being smoked out of house and home”  I was so prepared for never transpired.  In fact, all went very smoothly.  I admit, slightly disappointing.   I thought this post would be more dramatic with at least one neighbor coming over to see if we were OK.

I removed the salmon and let it cool.  The smoky tea flavour was there,  subtle and delicate–the wild salmon itself was amazing.

I will do this again and next time I think I will try letting the smoking pan heat up for 10 minutes before I add the salmon so that the fish is really being “smoked” rather than just cooked from the initial  trapped heat.

I served the salmon flaked and made lemon mayonnaise to go with it and an amazingly fresh, lime/mint/cilantro cucumber salad (Skye Gyngell’s recipe again).  Plus baguette.

(I kept a piece of salmon whole for the top photo.)

***Next time I promise kitchen disaster it will be bad, very bad.  I will make up for this.

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