Good Tastes

Hey all,

Busy week, great weekend so far.  Cooked a big steak dinner for two last night with some garlic and bacon mashed potatoes and mushroom/red wine sauce.  I did up the steak with a mix of spices, Calvados and fire, then added the juices to the mushroom sauce, it was pretty great.

If you haven't heard of Calvados, do some reading on it! Here and here.  Also Natalie MacLean (wine writer and author of Red, White and Drunk All Over) has this gorgeous-looking recipe posted on her site.  It's one of my most recent favourites, and goes down really smooth.

Be careful with all eaux-de-vie.  Be very, very careful.  It's deceitful stuff.  If done well, it doesn't have "fire from the throat to the guts" that you occasionally get from whiskeys (Irish), whiskys (Scotch) or some bourbons ('merican).  It's a clear fruit spirit, not a grain spirit, so it retains the aroma of whatever fruit has been the base of the distillation.  If aged in oak (like the Calvados), it goes down softly, all smoky and full of caramel and butterscotch tones, the fruity aromas from pears/apples/plums following closely, skipping while strumming pretty tunes.  I have had non-oaked eaux-de-vie; my teeth were instantly more flammable.

The hangover from too much eaux-de-vie will hit you like a shovel to the face.  Irish whiskeys hit you like a Chevy to the stomach instead.  Too much Scotch makes you feel like you've been buried alive, covered in peat, somewhere in the Highlands.  Following too much bourbon, it feels like a Texas chainsaw is working its way through the back of your head.  I love distillation.  It's wonderful.  But these creatures will bite you hard if you're careless.  Be neat about it (I don't like my spirits with ice, but I suppose this is just a personal preference).

Also I did some tasting at Ravine Vineyards today, we had some lovely offerings from 2007 and 2008 (especially loved the 2007 Reserve Merlot--what a gem).  We also got some sneak peaks at several wines soon to be released!

That's my little update for today.

Cheers!  (Be careful with the Calvados.)

Melissa

The Lovely Parsnip

Hey everybody,

I've been busy catching up with people and tomorrow is Strutt (Canada's Largest Wearable Art Show), so I thought I'd get a post up tonight about something I've become better acquainted with in the last few years.

The parsnip. 

(Oh, hooray, a root vegetable.)

But I've come to love it so much!  Especially since it seems to have a short growing season and gets even tastier from frost exposure.  That's good for chilly-ass Canada!  Here's the Wikipedia entry, and the CFIA entry, for more technical stuff.

It's related to anise, celery, carrot, dill, cumin, parsley, and a whole bunch of others.  It's a weed, essentially.  It's the root of the weed!  But lucky us: one day we dug it up and ate it.

It's kind of nice that carrot, parsnip and dill marry nicely as a soup.  It's got this nice fragrance to it that amps up any roasted dish or soup.  I've had equal luck using it in both, and I shared a recipe before for fried parsnip "chips"; so far I think that's my favourite way to cook them.

If you're unfamiliar with it, give it a try.  More raw parsnips have got a really pretty, floral flavour, and if tastes were assigned a "colour", this would definitely be "white".  It's clean.  It has a bit of peppery/bitterness (kind of similar to that of arugula) on the finish, as root vegetables tend to have, but when sauteed in butter with salt and pepper, caramelization does wonders to soften and enrich the flavour.

I want to try this recipe I found while surfing links.  I'll post when I find how it turns out!

Whew, lots of links in this one.  Now go get crazy with some parsnips.  Do it with style.

Bon appetit,

Melissa

Link Update Early...I couldn't resist.

This is a recent find I've made while sniffing out genuine, enjoyable food blogs: The Food in My Beard.

The recipe that prompted me to post this is right here.  OH MAN.  Does that ever sound incredible.

I'm off to a show in Oshawa tonight, cheers and all that jazz.  (Or, if it's more to your taste, all that heavy fucking metal.)

Peace,

Melissa

Then I thought, "Thyme to update my blog."

Okay, puns are something that I need in order to breathe, you can't take my thyme jokes away from me.  So get ready. 

I made a nice baked mac and cheese tonight.

I combined: boiled fusilli, diced leftover roasted chicken, sauteed mushrooms and onions (deglazed with white vermouth--almost everything I cook has booze in it), crumbled feta, grated asiago, and some chicken stock that I'd blended with 35% cream.  I also added some thyme.  All good things need thyme.

Then I put it in the oven at 350 until I felt like taking it out, and when I did, it was too runny.  So, I rummaged around for something to thicken it with.

Breadcrumbs?  No.  I don't like using breadcrumbs in much of anything, it's like stuffing your bra.  You want the real shit.

Flour? Then there'd be clumps galore.  Too late for flour.

Eggs?  Well, why not?  I remember a chef friend talking about a classic carbonara recipe where you mix the hot pasta really fast with a beaten egg, and it cooks while making a creamy sauce.  Was it the white, the yolk, or both?  I couldn't remember, so I just cracked an egg into a bowl, whisked it up with a fork, drizzled it into the hot baking dish while stirring, and then I watched for the result of my experiment.

It was magical.  As soon as I'd finished mixing the egg in, it did exactly what my friend had described: it was creamy and thicker than before, and tasted great.  So yeah, cool recipe.  Nice for a foggy night.

Another thing I wanted to mention about this was the thyme that I used making it.  (Thyme spent in the kitchen is well-spent, in my opinion.)  I have noticed this weird tendency I have to use fresh herbs in the winter, while not so much in the summer.  But in the summer, we've got tons of this stuff growing everywhere, shouldn't I be using it while it's seasonally appropriate?  What kind of local foodie am I?!

I've been trying to track what changes in my eating habits from season to season (this way I know what I can take advantage of, and when), so here's the best explanation that I can come up with right now.

In the summer, I make a lot of interesting dishes, usually distinct elements (sides) that could stand alone, but still have to harmonize for a meal.  I link them to each other by keeping the seasoning simple on each, S & P, a squeeze of lemon, a drizzle of some fancy oil or vinegar, or some of the ground spices I've got (coriander and paprika are favourites).  A sprinkle of this, and a shake of that.  It involves me reaching randomly into my spice cupboard, assessing whether or not including Roulette Spice will be weird, and then usually adding it anyway (cinnamon is the only one I eye warily: it is powerful stuff, and not to be trifled with).

In the winter, I tend to do lots of roasts, soups, stews, and baked stuff like I just mentioned. (I'm going for the two opposites here, just to start with.)  The old, homestyle one-pot meal.  When I first started learning how to took, this is what I made.  Beef bourguignon.  Vegetable soup.  Roast meat and veggies.   I'm a cheap bastard, so the "sprinkle this and that" approach means I go through lots of spices, applying them to a large mass of food.  Fresh herbs, though, are very flavourful and intense to me, so it feels like I don't have to use as much for the intended effect, and they make the one-pots look a bit prettier.  There's no picture with this article, because I baked tasty white slop for dinner tonight.  Comfort food is kind of ugly sometimes.  Another thing: using stuff like the cream and cheeses ("sweet" basic tastes) requires the balancing effect of bitterness, which is very easily achieved with the inclusion of the fresh herbs.  I could probably do this more creatively by using tea, coffee or chocolate (or bitters, themselves), but I just wanted mac and cheese today.

It's kind of cool that one of the first "seasonal cooking changes" that I really noticed was how I flavour the things that I'm cooking.  I'll revisit this topic again soon.  For now, I'm off to the Merchant Ale House for some fine beer.

Proost,

Melissa

P.S.

Thanks to some good feedback, I'm in the process of tweaking the layout here. Also I totally meant to make the trifle pun too.  I suffer for my art too, don't worry.

Links for Today

What up.

I missed putting stuff up last Sunday because I needed time to recuperate from Devil's Night, so here's some more favourite foodie places on the internet!

101 Cookbooks is a site I've happily wandered through for a couple years now, and shewhoeats is a food blog I've just started following.  Read through some of her back entries for a crazy recipe for caramelized white chocolate!  (This one requires some dedication, and fine ingredients.)

I love days off for a couple reasons, but one of them is definitely waking up at 12:30 PM, drinking a full french press of market coffee (during the week I just drink whatever we have at work, luckily it isn't stuff I want to drink very much of), and making an omelette of some kind.  O, the luxuries that I cannot afford during the week, because I'm not a morning person!

If anyone needs me, I'll be lounging in my orange chair drinking coffee.

Cheers,

Melissa

How to Dinner Party?

Hello again!

Two posts fairly close together means I have more tasty things to share.

Had a couple lovely folks over last night for a four-course dinner, done up veggie style!

First: I need to fill you guys in on something.  I couldn't get pictures before they disappeared, but here's a component.

Sliced dried figs and butter.

The Curiosities turned out fantastic.

Oh, right, I haven't told you enough about them yet.  Well, try this:

Take a couple handfuls of figs and chop 'em up, melt some butter in a sauce pan (medium-ish heat) and stir them together until they start to smell figgin' good.  (Yeah, I did that, and yeah, I'll pay for it later.)

Add whiskey (just whatever feels right, but I did a healthy couple ounces).  Your figs will drink it all up, and thank you for it.

Do you have butter puff pastry in your freezer?  (Or, if you're lucky, can you get your hands on some fresh stuff?)  If you can make puff pastry yourself, reading this blog is probably a lot like watching a kid make a "meal" out of Play-Doh and then proudly serving it up to you.

Anyway, if it needs to be thawed, thaw it.  Is your fruit drunk yet?

Good (what I'm trying to say is, there should be little to no liquid left.)  Take it off the heat, add two way overripe bananas.  Like, they're totally black and have been glaring at you from inside your fridge for a couple days.  These bananas loathe you.  But their insides are totally awesome, so let 'em have it.

Add a sprinkle of ground coriander and a splash of vanilla extract. I used this stuff from the Dominican Republic, which I'm pretty sure is rum-based.  I also have a really pretty Madagascar bourbon vanilla.  The cool thing about vanilla extract is that you can make your own: get your hands on some pods and put them in a jar with the booze of your choosing, you will have vanilla extract very soon.  Also you'll totally look like Super-Chef.

Mix it all up.  Slice the puff pastry to make 2 x 2 in squares.  Add a dollop of drunk fruit goo, and here's the sexy part.  Get some Danish blue, and throw a couple little crumbles in each one.  Close up the pastry into a little pouch, twisting the top closed (I always fuck up here: I get all excited and put way too much filling in, then they explode everywhere).  Put them on a baking sheet and into an oven at 350.  Check after ten or fifteen, the basics are: they should smell awesome and be golden brown and crispy.

Don't try to eat them right out of the oven, they'll burn you good.

Moving on to dinner! Here's a shot of my creamy spicy sweet potato and carrot soup:

 

Served up all messy-like! (This was my bowl, the others didn't have drips.)  I didn't have creme fraiche and the only fresh herb I had was sage, so instead I garnished it with a streak of paprika, a pinch of smoked salt (top right), a couple twists of black pepper (bottom left), and a streak of the ground coriander (man, I love this stuff way too much).

 

The stuffed peppers, before stuffing: the filling is grated feta and asiago cheses, diced green zucchini, black pepper, salt, paprika again, chopped artichokes, half a medium shallot diced, sliced giant green olives, and a couple spoonfuls of my roasted roma tomato sauce.

The sauce is made by roasting whole roma tomatoes at 200 degrees for a minumum of 8 hours (and this doesn't have to happen in one day, I had to finish roasting them on a second day).  Salt, pepper, olive oil.  When you take 'em out of the oven, remove the tomatoes, throw white vermouth in the pan and scrape all the charred bits off, then pour it into a sauce pan.  Dice up the tomatoes (just take the cores off, leave everything else: skins, seeds and all) and toss them in next.  Add dried oregano and thyme.

Here's the main course, the roasted pepper in the background.  In front is eggplant involtini, which is made by slicing eggplant with a mandoline (the slices should be less than 5 mm thick).  I mixed buffalo ricotta with more grated asiago, chopped fresh sage, dried basil, and my friends S & P.  Add cheese mix to the centre of one slice, roll one end forward so it's almost enclosed.  Take another slice and tuck it in, continuing the roll, add one more after that.  I pinned them together with some nice 4 inch skewers.  Pack the cheese in either end (some will probably fall out).  Douse them good with olive oil (they'll absorb lots) and roast them with the peppers for at least half an hour, or until the pepper skins start to shrivel.

I like this picture a lot.  (Even with the skewer.)

My friend Chantal made the dessert, but I'm going to try and get her to post it once I start sharing this blog around more.  In short, it was like cake and a buttertart made beautiful love with raisins.

Alongside these: A new, top-secret white blend we'll be releasing at Henry in the near future (components are Viognier and Chardonnay), which was a great mix with the Curiosities and the soup.  I had a bottle of the 1997 HOP Merlot that I grabbed from a re-release bin at our store.  It was a great meal.

The art of entertaining is something I started learning while I was going to school.  I had a lot of friends that had some from a restaurant background (whether serving or cooking), and they helped me realize a few very important things when having a meal in-house:

1. It's not meant to be a stuffy, overly impressive affair.  It is, however, not just any old dinner: so treat your guests to a couple little extraordinary things: good wine presentation, tea lights, linen napkins, whatever.  Don't make an exhibition of it, but make it special.

2. Do as much as you can the day before.  Like, everything.  Small prep can really lower the stress level, and you should be able to greet your guests and be entertaining without worrying about dicing friggin' onions.  You should never spend the party cooking or fussing with your whole kitchen.

3.  Dress for dinner.  Again, this is just meant to be part of the "special presentation" part, but I've included it separately because, aside from this being good etiquette, it also just makes you feel like a host.  So take a bit of time and get prettied up.  Don't wear fragrance.

4. Don't rush anything.  Last night we started with the nibbles just after 8 and I think we finished dessert at 11:30.  Take the time between courses, relax, chat, and enjoy the food and wine.  Speed eating is for your lunch break, not for this.

5. Always have on hand: a couple nice cheeses, extra wine, cash, and a local cab number.  It's not like I always say "Come for dinner, and I'll get you stuffed and drunk and then pay for your ride home," but it's nice to have some extra nibbles and drinks in case the night calls for it. Everyone drinks differently--I've gone through multi-courses on one bottle with one other person, I've also gone through four bottles with just one other person.  I like to offer the transportation, though, because three or four hours of eating and drinking makes anyone pretty relaxed and sleepy.  It might just be the ol' Smart Serve thing, but I'd like my friends to be able to come back and do this again with me.

Anyway, I think that does it for this one.

Cheers, and dinner-party on!

Melissa

Curiosities and Six-Hour Fragrance

Whew, it's been a few days.

I have been cooking for the last six hours straight.

I've balanced a sweet-potato and carrot soup for a little dinner party tomorrow night, I roasted some romas for homemade sauce (which I then finished with some white vermouth), I seared salmon, made parsnip chips, blanched asparagus and cooked spinach and cheese ravioli with a cream sauce for dinner.  Then, I wrapped it all up with the invention of a little morsel I'm going to name "The Curiosity".  (Wanna know what's in it?)

My apartment smells amazing right now.

The drinks of the evening have been a third of a bottle of 09 Sibling Rivalry Pink, and a wee splash of 09 Sibling White (I needed it for the soup, I swear).

Let's warm you up with some pictures, shall we...?  Forgive the low quality of the cell phone camera--my digital is in need of repair.  (I recently had this crystallizing moment where I realized I was a total foodie--I was standing in the kitchen in my underwear, snapping pictures of chicken parts in a roasting pan on a Friday night.)

This is why I love salmon (but only occasionally).  Because I've had it, I can feel the texture just by seeing that stripey, rosy flesh.  By the way, we've entered the "Total Food Porn-Out" section of this blog for today.

Okay, okay, don't yell.  I split the salmon so I'd have something tasty for lunch tomorrow, the veg and pasta ended up taking more of the spotlight (I got a budget, see?)  It was all tasty!  And remember the pepper story? (See entry #2)  Tucked in behind there are some very yummy parsnip chips, which are stupid easy to make:

Peel two medium-sized parsnips (I'd say these were about an inch in diameter, 6-7 in long).  Slice 'em on the bias. Get a heavy-bottomed, deep skillet onto some med-high heat and add a big hunk of butter.  Add parsnips.  Add sea salt and cracked pepper.  Toss until they start to brown, when this happens, cover with a lid and just go back and turn them twice or three times, add some olive oil after the first turn.  That's it, ya'll.  They probably take less than ten minutes to cook, easy-peasy.

(My recipes are not timed or measured, I go by sight.  It's more fun this way.  Good luck following my terrible, terrible directions.  Have a glass of wine to calm your nerves and go at it.  Be careful with the hot things and the sharp things.)

Salmon's just as simple.  Heat a pan (medium-ish), add fish.  Turn after a few minutes, add salt and pepper.  Add squeeze of fresh lemon juice.

Fresh ravioli--actually, most fresh pastas--cook in like a minute and asparagus in three (in my opinion, pretty much I just strain it as soon as I smell the pyrazines in the steam).  Combine 'em, grate some asiago and add a splash of cream, done.

Anyone who says they don't have time to make themselves dinner should be slapped until they need to be fed through a tube.  Just kidding, LOL.  Seriously, though, get a pan on some heat and chop some things, you'll have something better than that fugly-ass Double Down thing in a matter of minutes.   ...Any. Fucking. Day.

Here's some more photos--these are a little retro--from the saga of the butternut squash soup.  The sweet potato soup follows almost exactly the same principles (aside from the chicken stock, tomorrow's dinner party is vegetarian and it will be amazing).

Plain old roasted butternut squash with my pals, S & P.  Keep me away from this, or I will eat it all, and you will have no soup. Also: Butter for butternut.  No substitutes, unless you've eschewed all animal-related foods.

Peppers and garlic go into the pan next (the pan looks a little scary, but I have just one pan and it needs to be re-used for recipe components, 'kay?  Besides, the charring from the squash and sweet potatoes past added character.)  I know that glass, non-stick and cast all cook differently, but I think that part of knowing my cookware is knowing the alterations to make in recipes that I find.  If someone somewhere says 10-15 minutes in non-stick, I check it after 12 minutes in glass (peppers and garlic take a good 30 to really get their roast on).  But really, I just use my eyes and nose to tell me when to do things.  Mooooving on...

Dear food processor: I love you, and I love the butternut squash puree that I can make with your help.  Reader: if you compare this photo with the one from above ("before" pureeing, as it were), you'll notice that the quantity is...less.  This is not the food processor's fault.
 

Vibrant red-orange after pureeing and adding peppers and sweet potatoes!  This is when the soup got exciting!

Finally, slowly adding home-made chicken stock and 18% cream to the pot of pureed vegetables.  To this I added ground cinnamon, ground cumin, ground coriander, smoked salt, sea salt, cracked black pepper, ground white pepper, and two types of paprika (I have McCormicks and a hot Hungarian paprika), all to taste.  I have absolutely no issue standing in front of a pot of soup for a full twenty minutes, just tweaking the spices and seeing how the flavours marry.  Actually, I love doing that, it's why I spend so much time in the kitchen.  In this case, it was just as much to make up for the pre-soup squash gluttony on my part.

Curious about the Curiosities?  Wait and see, that'll be with the post that I'm going to do after the three-course dinner party I've got coming up tomorrow night.

Hint: there's booze in them.


...That's not a good hint.  The booze is whiskey (note the spelling), and there are figs present.

Happy cooking, happy nibbling/tasting/tweaking, and happy dining!

Melissa