...So use a plate, sillies.
Take about ten medium-sized cremini mushrooms and pop out the caps. Scrape out the gills with a teaspoon. Clean the stems well and chop finely.
In a bowl, take a few ounces of plain goat cheese, the chopped mushroom stems, some chopped walnuts, cracked black pepper, a sprinkle of ground white pepper, sea salt, grated asiago cheese and chiffonade a few fresh sage leaves and mix it all together.
Add the filling to the caps. Take a few slices of bacon, cut into 2-3 inch pieces and layer a few of each over top of each stuffed cap.
Preheat the oven to 350ish and bake 'em until the bacon is crispy to your liking.
Eat, but carefully. You will drip creamy stuff everywhere if you don't use caution.
Stuffed mushrooms are really a one-bite deal, though.
Other thoughts for the day: I've written a lot, so here's a taste.
I recently had an interesting sensory experience with music, where I sat and gave a full album my undivided attention and actually listened for what felt like the first time in a long time. I felt that it had a lot of similarity to the occasions where people have had eye-opening experiences of flavours in food or wine, when I show them how to "properly" taste something.
I don't mean this in a condescending way; people often eat and drink too fast to really pay attention and savour what's there. When they do slow it down, and recognize flavours, they show a mix of pride and awe. Discoveries are totally wicked.
See, as children we seem to have acute senses, but as adults they deaden, in a way. Really tasting is lost to simply eating, just as really listening to music is lost to simply hearing it.
I was all, "Shit, after all my ranting about people not paying attention to what they're putting in their mouths, I've been ignoring what I've been putting in my ears. Oh my effin' gee, you can really do this with all the senses!" What a revelation that was.
Once these things are recognized, it's hard to approach simple tasting or listening pleasure (used here as examples) any other way: we crave quality, not quantity, and rightly so.
That's all for now. I'll continue to expand on this thought in posts to come.
I feel should mention that the squash and pepper soup that I mentioned in post #2 didn't even make it to freezing, all was eaten. It's okay. I'll make another: Lakeland Meats is selling butternut squash and pumpkins for super cheap right now.
Happy tasting,
Melissa
Friday, October 29, 2010
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Sunday is Link Day!
Check the spot to the left. There's a couple foody links there!
Every Sunday, I'll throw new stuff here for your enjoyment. The rest of the week (Mon-Fri), I'll do regular posts.
Cheers!
Melissa
Every Sunday, I'll throw new stuff here for your enjoyment. The rest of the week (Mon-Fri), I'll do regular posts.
Cheers!
Melissa
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
How a Pepper Stole the Spotlight from Pork
Good Morning!
(It's almost 11 pm.)
I had a friend over for dinner last night, and I cooked up something neat, so I thought I'd share. I did roasted pork chops with sweet potato, and stuffed red peppers with white and green asparagus vinaigrette.
The chops were kinda small (but from a really great butcher), so I decided to do the peppers as a last minute thing.
They actually become the focus of the meal. Here's the recipe:
Put the oven on at 375ish degrees C. Bring nice fresh pork chops (I like sirloin cut, but I had centre chops last night and they worked fine) up to temp. Rub with ground black pepper, coriander, cumin, paprika, ground white pepper, and smoked salt. Heat a skillet over medium-high, melt some butter and chop sweet potatoes (red-skinned potatoes are awesome too!) about 1 inch x 1 inch, tossing with salt and pepper until they start to brown. Layer in the bottom of the baking dish.
Sear the meat on both sides, add to baking dish on top of the potatoes.
Take two red peppers and cut the stem off like a jack-o-lantern (hey, this is seasonally appropriate!)
In a bowl, combine 3 or 4 chopped giant green olives, one small shallot diced, half a greenhouse tomato diced, about 2 oz crumbled feta, black pepper, half a medium-sized diced green zucchini, salt, and a pinch each dried oregano, dried thyme and dried savory. Add grated asiago if you love cheese as much as I love cheese. (Hint: it's a lot!) Mix the filling, stuff it in the peppers, and then put in a baking dish with some olive oil.
Think, "Something's missing," and look around in the fridge.
See bacon. Remove bacon from fridge. Slice 3 or 4 pieces in half and then layer over top of stuffed peppers. Bake in oven until bacon is crispy and pork chops are showing just a little bit of pink inside (medium-well).
The asparagus vinaigrette is easy too, just blanch trimmed white and green asparagus, toss in the pan that you seared the meat in with some butter, then add a drizzle of sherry vinegar (leeks done this way was one of my favourite things to make this summer).
Stuffing vegetables with other things was the greatest idea ever. These things completely overtook the pork as the centrepiece of the meal. It's okay though, I like vegetables!
Bon appetit and good night,
Melissa
(It's almost 11 pm.)
I had a friend over for dinner last night, and I cooked up something neat, so I thought I'd share. I did roasted pork chops with sweet potato, and stuffed red peppers with white and green asparagus vinaigrette.
The chops were kinda small (but from a really great butcher), so I decided to do the peppers as a last minute thing.
They actually become the focus of the meal. Here's the recipe:
Put the oven on at 375ish degrees C. Bring nice fresh pork chops (I like sirloin cut, but I had centre chops last night and they worked fine) up to temp. Rub with ground black pepper, coriander, cumin, paprika, ground white pepper, and smoked salt. Heat a skillet over medium-high, melt some butter and chop sweet potatoes (red-skinned potatoes are awesome too!) about 1 inch x 1 inch, tossing with salt and pepper until they start to brown. Layer in the bottom of the baking dish.
Sear the meat on both sides, add to baking dish on top of the potatoes.
Take two red peppers and cut the stem off like a jack-o-lantern (hey, this is seasonally appropriate!)
In a bowl, combine 3 or 4 chopped giant green olives, one small shallot diced, half a greenhouse tomato diced, about 2 oz crumbled feta, black pepper, half a medium-sized diced green zucchini, salt, and a pinch each dried oregano, dried thyme and dried savory. Add grated asiago if you love cheese as much as I love cheese. (Hint: it's a lot!) Mix the filling, stuff it in the peppers, and then put in a baking dish with some olive oil.
Think, "Something's missing," and look around in the fridge.
See bacon. Remove bacon from fridge. Slice 3 or 4 pieces in half and then layer over top of stuffed peppers. Bake in oven until bacon is crispy and pork chops are showing just a little bit of pink inside (medium-well).
The asparagus vinaigrette is easy too, just blanch trimmed white and green asparagus, toss in the pan that you seared the meat in with some butter, then add a drizzle of sherry vinegar (leeks done this way was one of my favourite things to make this summer).
Stuffing vegetables with other things was the greatest idea ever. These things completely overtook the pork as the centrepiece of the meal. It's okay though, I like vegetables!
Bon appetit and good night,
Melissa
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Fall Love Affairs
Welcome to issue #2.
(Well, this one's gonna be sorta short. I've got laundry to do and a beautiful autumn day to get out and enjoy!)
Today is my only day off all week, so I've spent since last night just cooking and eating. Whether I stay in Toronto or St. Catharines, I usually tend to do this: just taste things that I find in the markets. It's a tour of flavour.
Last week, a significant other and I went to Kensington market (in the area of College & Augusta sts), and bought cheese--so much cheese--some produce, and a gorgeous lamb leg roast. We just nestled it in a glass baking dish with diced peppers, Gala apples, and shallots, covered in various spices, and it was gooooood. The greatest thing about the roast? The perfume that filled the apartment. Who needs flowers or air freshener? Give me the smell of roasted meat and veggies any day.
That same afternoon, I had the wonderful opportunity to visit the Riverdale Farmer's market in Cabbagetown, where I tasted hot pickled beets, pumpkin spice cupcakes, wildflower and ginger honey, all under a bright blue autumn sky. See, if I'm doing these tasting tours, I'd love for them to be on days like this all the time: temperate, sunny, surrounded by colour. Things never quite have the same intensity of flavour once you bring them into a sterile environment: look at how you feel under fluorescent supermarket lights or in tasting rooms, vs. an open air market or someone's cozy living room.
One wine can be brought and tasted in ten different locations, and each time it will be a new creature. This can sometimes be really negative. The wine you tried and loved at a friend's place is suddenly a quiet, dull character or a big tannic monster. Why does this happen? It's something I'd like to explore; the way different processes in the brain can affect flavour and aroma stimuli--but that's another topic for another day.
Food can be transportative. I roasted up some gorgeous butternut squash (and couldn't stop eating it as I worked with it for soup, ah ha ha ha, save me from myself), some garlic cloves, red and orange peppers, and a sweet potato. I blended each in the food processor, made chicken stock, combined everything and added some 18% cream and a blend of warm and fragrant spices (cinnamon, white pepper, paprika, coriander, smoked salt, just to name a few). I'm going to freeze a bit of it. Whenever I eat it in the next few months, I'll be brought back instantly to this time of year: early fall in a warm soup bowl.
I love how the power of association works, and especially with tasting. I've been keeping some bottles in my parent's basement cellar for a few years now, and as I open these things, I know that the association will certainly be there. I also know that as the wine will have evolved in the bottle, so will I have evolved out here in the world.
Cheers.
Melissa
(Well, this one's gonna be sorta short. I've got laundry to do and a beautiful autumn day to get out and enjoy!)
Today is my only day off all week, so I've spent since last night just cooking and eating. Whether I stay in Toronto or St. Catharines, I usually tend to do this: just taste things that I find in the markets. It's a tour of flavour.
Last week, a significant other and I went to Kensington market (in the area of College & Augusta sts), and bought cheese--so much cheese--some produce, and a gorgeous lamb leg roast. We just nestled it in a glass baking dish with diced peppers, Gala apples, and shallots, covered in various spices, and it was gooooood. The greatest thing about the roast? The perfume that filled the apartment. Who needs flowers or air freshener? Give me the smell of roasted meat and veggies any day.
That same afternoon, I had the wonderful opportunity to visit the Riverdale Farmer's market in Cabbagetown, where I tasted hot pickled beets, pumpkin spice cupcakes, wildflower and ginger honey, all under a bright blue autumn sky. See, if I'm doing these tasting tours, I'd love for them to be on days like this all the time: temperate, sunny, surrounded by colour. Things never quite have the same intensity of flavour once you bring them into a sterile environment: look at how you feel under fluorescent supermarket lights or in tasting rooms, vs. an open air market or someone's cozy living room.
One wine can be brought and tasted in ten different locations, and each time it will be a new creature. This can sometimes be really negative. The wine you tried and loved at a friend's place is suddenly a quiet, dull character or a big tannic monster. Why does this happen? It's something I'd like to explore; the way different processes in the brain can affect flavour and aroma stimuli--but that's another topic for another day.
Food can be transportative. I roasted up some gorgeous butternut squash (and couldn't stop eating it as I worked with it for soup, ah ha ha ha, save me from myself), some garlic cloves, red and orange peppers, and a sweet potato. I blended each in the food processor, made chicken stock, combined everything and added some 18% cream and a blend of warm and fragrant spices (cinnamon, white pepper, paprika, coriander, smoked salt, just to name a few). I'm going to freeze a bit of it. Whenever I eat it in the next few months, I'll be brought back instantly to this time of year: early fall in a warm soup bowl.
I love how the power of association works, and especially with tasting. I've been keeping some bottles in my parent's basement cellar for a few years now, and as I open these things, I know that the association will certainly be there. I also know that as the wine will have evolved in the bottle, so will I have evolved out here in the world.
Cheers.
Melissa
Monday, October 18, 2010
Hoppin' on the Foodie Boat
Greetings everybody,
I realize that this is the trillion-and-eighth blog of its kind. Everyone and their brother has a blog about food. Why shouldn't we? Food is sustenance, it's pleasure, it provides a reason/excuse/compulsion to meet and eat with others. There's been a veritable explosion of enthusiasts here on the internet, and I'm happy to join in the fray.
I make lots of stuff at home. I ferment my own wine and mead, I've started canning, I bake and cook many things from scratch too. Okay, so I'm not that special. The people around me tend to enjoy what I cook and ferment, and much of it I give or bring along to events as gifts. The response:
"Wow, did you really make this?"
"Holy shit, this is really good!"
"I've never tasted anything like this."
"Did you really just spend eight hours roasting tomatoes to make snacks for an apartment full of nerds playing D & D? You just did that." *cue incredulous head-shaking: a quote from my friend Mike.
The thing is, I haven't really had that much experience cooking. Before I moved out of my parent's house and into the wild world of wine (and college), I could barely cook KD. I could use a microwave. I could boil pasta (sometimes even this ended badly).
I lived with a graduate of a culinary program, and I went to school with a lot of people that had crossed streams of Hotel & Restaurant Management or chef's training; people that wanted to learn more about wine. They shared with me the joys of food and wine, admonished me for using iodized salt and margarine, taught me how to cook meat and veggies properly, and usually got me well and truly hammered in the process. (This is going to be a fairly hedonistic blog, I can already tell.)
I had come into wine from high school chemistry and biology classes. It's an understatement to say that my palate was undeveloped. I think I like it better this way: everything was fresh, new, intense, and a full sensory experience. Taste, texture, visual appeal: all suddenly became my entire world. I entered with no biases, no previous experience, and just drank it all in.
I'd like to bring more people into this world, and share my finds in food and wine, and I think I can do that by writing here. I'm going to try and reach a lot of people, and I hope that gustatory experiences are in turn shared with me too. I might devote a page and a half to fine whiskey, I might yell about peppers for a paragraph. I'm not sure yet. We'll see where this goes.
The dinner table is a fantastic forum. Let this be a virtual dinner table: everyone brings something to it, and we all leave it with the pleasure of food and wine.
So, let the fun begin.
Cheers,
Melissa
I realize that this is the trillion-and-eighth blog of its kind. Everyone and their brother has a blog about food. Why shouldn't we? Food is sustenance, it's pleasure, it provides a reason/excuse/compulsion to meet and eat with others. There's been a veritable explosion of enthusiasts here on the internet, and I'm happy to join in the fray.
I make lots of stuff at home. I ferment my own wine and mead, I've started canning, I bake and cook many things from scratch too. Okay, so I'm not that special. The people around me tend to enjoy what I cook and ferment, and much of it I give or bring along to events as gifts. The response:
"Wow, did you really make this?"
"Holy shit, this is really good!"
"I've never tasted anything like this."
"Did you really just spend eight hours roasting tomatoes to make snacks for an apartment full of nerds playing D & D? You just did that." *cue incredulous head-shaking: a quote from my friend Mike.
The thing is, I haven't really had that much experience cooking. Before I moved out of my parent's house and into the wild world of wine (and college), I could barely cook KD. I could use a microwave. I could boil pasta (sometimes even this ended badly).
I lived with a graduate of a culinary program, and I went to school with a lot of people that had crossed streams of Hotel & Restaurant Management or chef's training; people that wanted to learn more about wine. They shared with me the joys of food and wine, admonished me for using iodized salt and margarine, taught me how to cook meat and veggies properly, and usually got me well and truly hammered in the process. (This is going to be a fairly hedonistic blog, I can already tell.)
I had come into wine from high school chemistry and biology classes. It's an understatement to say that my palate was undeveloped. I think I like it better this way: everything was fresh, new, intense, and a full sensory experience. Taste, texture, visual appeal: all suddenly became my entire world. I entered with no biases, no previous experience, and just drank it all in.
I'd like to bring more people into this world, and share my finds in food and wine, and I think I can do that by writing here. I'm going to try and reach a lot of people, and I hope that gustatory experiences are in turn shared with me too. I might devote a page and a half to fine whiskey, I might yell about peppers for a paragraph. I'm not sure yet. We'll see where this goes.
The dinner table is a fantastic forum. Let this be a virtual dinner table: everyone brings something to it, and we all leave it with the pleasure of food and wine.
So, let the fun begin.
Cheers,
Melissa
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