tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19420589801387079832024-03-13T05:50:59.739-04:00The Chocolate BunnyDo Chocolate Bunnies Dream of Marzipan Carrots?Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger165125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1942058980138707983.post-77888669207562375562013-05-04T15:47:00.003-04:002013-05-04T15:51:34.934-04:00Cooking for Gracie - Spaghetti with Anchovies, Walnuts, Mint and Breadcrumbs<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Today’s book: Keith Dixon’s <i><a href="http://www.amazon.ca/Cooking-Gracie-Making-Parent-Scratch/dp/0307591875" target="_blank">Cooking for Gracie</a></i>. A surprising choice
for me. Why? Allow me to tell you before getting to the book itself.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfEmhiWwfdbOXR2nXE6y_g-bOy8FkfwUeWaKTYsL83FTQw8BvRHrTF42WPQkgp9I6iZ2ykOGoSpY-AMbNY5NMb80PdX72syDE-hjXr7R09yzshNeq2zSea9LSUX8TaHNhkhlRFdRNHjW0/s1600/CFG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfEmhiWwfdbOXR2nXE6y_g-bOy8FkfwUeWaKTYsL83FTQw8BvRHrTF42WPQkgp9I6iZ2ykOGoSpY-AMbNY5NMb80PdX72syDE-hjXr7R09yzshNeq2zSea9LSUX8TaHNhkhlRFdRNHjW0/s1600/CFG.jpg" height="400" width="261" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Since even before Raphaël’s
birth, people have been giving us a lot of stuff. A lot. Most of the gifts were
predictable, but very welcome: clothes, toys, gift certificates, more clothes.
Others were pleasant surprises: a baby food maker, a soothing noise-maker
(which doesn’t really put the baby to sleep, but is still really cool). I’m
grateful for it all. <b>But there is one type of gift which I specifically asked
people not to give me (and fortunately, most of them complied): parenting
books.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
My dislike of parenting books
(and most self-help books, really, but let’s stick to this particular genre
today) stems from way before I ever became a parent myself: it started during
my teen years. I was a fairly typical teenager, undergoing all the angst,
drama, and emotional rollercoaster those years often entail. <b>But around that
time, my mother started developing the annoying habit of attributing anything I
did that rubbed her the wrong way to my age. “I know teenagers are unkempt /
rude to their parents / selfish, but I will not have you wear your hair like that
/ speak to me that way / behave in this manner.”</b> It was as if I had been
labelled practically overnight, and anything I did would inevitably be traced
back to that label. Granted, not all her criticisms were undeserved: my hair
was indeed a mess most of the time, and I wasn’t always the most thoughtful
daughter. But I could have been the best-groomed, most polite, most altruistic
teen, and my mother probably would have found something else to blame on
teenagehood. Because I was no longer a child, and that, apparently, was the
greatest sin of all.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
And one day, while browsing
through one of our many bookshelves, I found The Book.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
I forget what it was
called, but I’m pretty sure it was <i>Raising
Your Teenaged Daughter</i>, or something along those lines. As I flipped
through it, I was horrified. The book mostly consisted of case studies, meant
to represent the different problems teenaged girls could pose or run into. <b>But
these girls were all extreme cases</b>: they were bulimic, or had substance abuse
problems, or dabbled in delinquency, or slept around. At the time, I had top
grades in most of my classes, I didn’t date, and I hung out with other goody-two-shoes
who didn’t drink or smoke. Granted, I was socially awkward (still am), and I
had body image issues and a messed up relationship with food (which wasn’t
entirely my fault: I distinctly remember being served Happy Meals <i>as a snack</i>, and being berated
for being overweight while simultaneously being given third helpings of mashed
potatoes and being scolded if I didn’t clean my plate. But I digress.). But in
no way did this put me in the same category as the girls in that book. Did I
eventually grow up to do things my parents wouldn’t have approved of had they
known about them? You bet. But never anything close to stupid or dangerous. Okay,
a few stupid things, but nothing dangerously stupid, anyway. I never lived up
to my mother’s fears.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
It really bothered me to know
that <i>this</i> was how my mother saw me as
a teenager: an impending disaster. Nevermind that I had given her no reason to
view me in this way: the book told her all she wanted to know. And that’s when
I decided that parenting books were poison. <b>And I knew I was never going to
label my child, or treat him or her according to some textbook, some manual
telling me what my child <i>should</i> or <i>could</i> be doing.</b> I would refuse to
interact with my child according to a strategy, I would not think: “I need to
do <i>this</i> with him now, so that he’ll
do <i>that</i>. And if he does <i>this</i>, then I’ll do <i>that</i>. And then he’ll develop properly.” As methodical as I am in
the kitchen, a child is not a soufflé: I don’t believe in a recipe for
parenting. And if there is one, I’m not interested in living any part of my
life according to a recipe.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
This doesn’t mean I don’t give my
son a structured environment, or don’t do what I can to help his development.
And it doesn’t mean I won’t set rules and boundaries when he’s old enough to
understand them. But I’ll be doing all those things according to what feels
right to me, following plain common sense – not because some book told me to. I
ask for advice when I feel I need it in a specific area, and I look things up
when I have to. But I don’t believe a book will suddenly revolutionize my
outlook on what kind of parent I want to be.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<b>So why did I decide to read a
book <i>called Cooking for Gracie: The
Making of a Parent from Scratch</i>? Because, despite what its title might
suggest, it’s not a parenting book, nor does it aspire to be one.</b> It’s the
personal story of one man’s discovery of parenthood, and what he realized along
the way. It’s not preachy, quite the opposite in fact: the author is humble and
consistently self-deprecating throughout the book. The only recipes in this
book are about actual food.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
It’s hard for me to judge whether
this book would be enjoyable to anyone who hasn’t had a baby. Probably not. I
know much of the pleasure I derived from it stemmed from identifying with the
author’s situation: the sleeplessness of the early days, the worrying when
something doesn’t go exactly according to plan, the realization that babies
require you to make lifestyle changes – something you knew before, of course,
but don’t actually grasp until a crisis sneaks up and kicks you in the ass
while you’re trying to make dinner or write an article. The book is well
written, in a sincere voice that I enjoyed following, and features some truly
touching moments. It’s a little thin, and there are some digressions which feel
a tad out of place, but I found the book as a whole very enjoyable.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<b><st1:city w:st="on">Dixon</st1:city>’s look at parenting is honest and
expresses what I think a lot of new parents feel.</b> On the one hand, we do
sometimes feel as if we’ve lost something in the process: sleep, intimacy, the
freedom to be spontaneous or downright irresponsible, the ability to live life
according to our own schedule, and, in the case of mothers, control over our
own bodies. And at the same time, we know we’ve gained something: a barrier
against loneliness, the unconditional (for now, at least) love of our child, the
wonder of seeing our baby discover the world, and the myriad pleasures of being
with him or her. One of Dixon’s insights is that cooking encapsulates this
paradoxical relationship with his daughter, where she is both the problem and
the solution (his words): because of her, he can no longer afford to cook the
way he used to, but thanks to her, he now knows the joy of cooking for his
child – because, even when she is still breastfeeding, he is the one cooking
for her mother, and thus, indirectly, for baby Grace. And his happiness when he
is able to give his daughter her first real morsel of food truly made me look
forward to the time when Raphaël would be ready for that milestone. And now
that it has happened, I never get tired of watching him happily swallow the
food I have lovingly cooked and puréed for him (even though it’s just about the
most basic stuff you can imagine, as seasoning is off-limits for now).</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
There are many, many recipes in
this book, and their quality surprised me, given that <st1:city w:st="on">Dixon</st1:city> is not a professional cook. He is,
however, a very able home cook, despite the humorous description he gives of
himself as a klutz who is constantly injuring himself in the kitchen. <b>The
recipes are meant to be realistic, aimed at new parents who are pressed for
time.</b> I personally question any new parent’s ability to make fresh pasta from
scratch (something I rarely had the time or patience to make even before
Raphaël came along), but the majority of the recipes strike a good balance
between quality and simplicity. <b>They are meant for the foodie parent who is
resigned to the fact that the days of macarons and homemade sushi are over, at
least for now, but doesn’t want to eat tuna salad every night. </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I tried the recipe below because
of the sheer weirdness of the ingredients. Walnuts and anchovies, really? But I
love both, so I figured there was a chance I would like it. And I did. The
anchovies really don’t attack the palate as much as you would expect, they just
kind of dissolve and take a back seat, even when I ended up putting more
than the recipe originally called for. The homemade fried breadcrumbs are a
must.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Note: This isn’t one of the
recipes meant to be later puréed and served to baby. It’s way too salty for a
little one, and nuts should be avoided before they are a year old.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQF_9a2RiROXF6Wx3pvQVxkYSYiAf_3izIYQd1eU4jtioVoynlvJOnNiS2ee7HQC6VnHVndZZqyBKoSMEtWfMZvj6BhnYfD2D4fXYBaGuVBkC0o7NIognhyiEkhyphenhyphen2IZGCHh97kwcRGJ3c/s1600/DSC_3829.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQF_9a2RiROXF6Wx3pvQVxkYSYiAf_3izIYQd1eU4jtioVoynlvJOnNiS2ee7HQC6VnHVndZZqyBKoSMEtWfMZvj6BhnYfD2D4fXYBaGuVBkC0o7NIognhyiEkhyphenhyphen2IZGCHh97kwcRGJ3c/s1600/DSC_3829.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<b>Spaghetti with anchovies, walnuts, mint and breadcrumbs<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Slightly adapted from Keith
Dixon’s <i>Cooking for Gracie</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<i>Serves two<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
2-3 slices of bread, preferably
several days old and left out to dry</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
6 tbsp olive oil</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Salt</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
2 cloves garlic, minced</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
6 anchovy filets, preserved in
oil (less if you are worried about tasting too much anchovy)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
60 ml (1/4) cup walnuts</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
1 tsp dried crushed red pepper
flakes, or more to taste</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Freshly ground black pepper</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
120 ml (1/2 cup) dry white wine</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
A big handful of fresh mint,
finely chopped</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
250g (1/2 pound) dried spaghetti</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Bring a large pot of salted water
to a boil.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Put the walnuts in a plastic bag
and crush them coarsely with a meat mallet or rolling pin. You want fairly
large pieces, not crumbs.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<i>Make the breadcrumbs:</i> If your bread is not dry enough, toast it
lightly. Rip the slices into pieces and put them into a food processor. Pulse
until reduced to thick crumbs. Pass the crumbs through a thin sieve, so as to
keep only the thicker ones (keep the smaller crumbs and use them in another
recipe that requires breading). If you do not have a food processor, use a
mortar and pestle.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Heat two tablespoons of olive oil
in a large, deep skillet over medium-high heat and add in the breadcrumbs. Cook
until they are lightly golden and crispy. Put the crumbs in a bowl lined with
absorbent paper towel and reserve.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
In the same skillet, heat your
remaining four tablespoons of olive oil over medium-low heat. Add the garlic
and anchovies and sauté, stirring and crushing the anchovies with a wooden
spoon until they have dissolved. Add the walnuts and toast a few minutes, until
browned and fragrant. Add the pepper flakes and cook for another minute, then
deglaze with the white wine. Cook until the alcohol has mostly evaporated and
sprinkle in the mint. Reserve over low heat.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Cook your spaghetti according to
the directions on the package. When they are done, drain them or fish them out
of the pan, making sure to reserve part of the cooking water. Put the pasta in
with the sauce and mix thoroughly to coat. Add a ladleful of cooking water to
help keep everything warm.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
Divide into plates and garnish generously with
breadcrumbs. Serve immediately.<br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1942058980138707983.post-81175081260812992512013-02-28T21:40:00.000-05:002016-06-07T21:12:03.927-04:00Pomegranate Soup<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
Still catching up on writing about the food
books I read ages ago. Today, Marsha Mehran’s <i><a href="http://www.amazon.ca/Pomegranate-Soup-Novel-Marsha-Mehran/dp/0812972481" target="_blank">Pomegranate Soup</a></i>.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB9X5yV-FpM2huGRleshYYvoEa3XbB5DTVVd9eW_vMywgod4jfJcjCNHMp9D3YgCccYmkCly0Vh5c2zHHKSxsb5J92l1juLEBOMuqstr-BjsmlnOpQIH-LfQdaQtGzkluPwZFEUmmlenQ/s1600/513617.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB9X5yV-FpM2huGRleshYYvoEa3XbB5DTVVd9eW_vMywgod4jfJcjCNHMp9D3YgCccYmkCly0Vh5c2zHHKSxsb5J92l1juLEBOMuqstr-BjsmlnOpQIH-LfQdaQtGzkluPwZFEUmmlenQ/s1600/513617.jpg" width="207" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<b>But first, a flashback.</b> In 2011,
my friend Evelyne of <a href="http://www.cheapethniceatz.com/" target="_blank">Cheap Ethnic Eatz</a> hosted a <a href="http://www.cheapethniceatz.com/cee/1st-annual-cheap-ethnic-eatz-food-film-marathon/" target="_blank">Food Film Marathon</a>, an entire
day of movies revolving around food. On the playbill was the 2000 Lasse
Hallström film <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chocolat_(2000_film)" target="_blank">Chocolat</a></i>, with
Juliette Binoche and Johnny Depp (as well as Dame Judi Dench and Alfred
Molina). If you’ll recall, it takes place in a small, conservative French
village, where Juliettte Binoche’s character, a free, gypsy-like single mother,
waltzes in, opens a <i>chocolaterie</i>, and
offends everybody’s Catholic sensibilities – until they all succumb to the
power of the almighty cocoa bean. Oh, and Johnny Depp plays an actual gypsy,
who strums a different guitar in every scene (someone pointed this out during
the movie, and it became a running joke. Seriously, where does he keep all
those instruments?).</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><b>Pomegranate Soup</b></i><b> is a bit similar to <i>Chocolat</i>, except it unfolds in <st1:country-region w:st="on">Ireland</st1:country-region>
instead of <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">France</st1:place></st1:country-region>,
and features Persian food instead of chocolate.</b><span style="font-size: small;"> It narrates the tale of three
Iranian sisters who settle in a small Irish village and open a café. They
inevitably encounter prejudice and suspicion, but gradually win the villagers
over with their delicious </span><i>abgusht</i><span style="font-size: small;">, </span><i>fesenjoon</i><span style="font-size: small;">, </span><i>torshi</i><span style="font-size: small;">, and of course, pomegranate soup. There’s a touch of magic
realism at play here, such as when an onion is sautéed by the sheer electricity
of love at first sight. But, like in </span><i>Chocolat</i>,
there’s also a more grounded form of magic at work: the seduction of food, the
comfort it provides, the way it can soothe or exhilarate. The pleasures of cooking
are very well captured, in passages that will make you hungry.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji2JIv03dQVbXff4VM7kxCBI5MyjaJB5rruU_CTZO1J9W20HbdaQA3QkPCGOZZKhWT0r46wVWG-KqbGjM0GwX_A1D5a62sIYaRPVGigBp-QjqUPkhD1G1X-CMZM2Ds2_VhkfH4pDn2-4Q/s1600/DSC_3674.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji2JIv03dQVbXff4VM7kxCBI5MyjaJB5rruU_CTZO1J9W20HbdaQA3QkPCGOZZKhWT0r46wVWG-KqbGjM0GwX_A1D5a62sIYaRPVGigBp-QjqUPkhD1G1X-CMZM2Ds2_VhkfH4pDn2-4Q/s1600/DSC_3674.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Still as in <i>Chocolat</i>, there’s a caricatural villain who would have benefited
from a little subtlety: the richest man in town, whose plans to turn the
sisters’ establishment into a disco (which he would call Polyester Paddy’s) are
thwarted by the restaurant’s success. He’s basically the equivalent of <i>Chocolat</i>’s mayor, and his nastiness and
aversion to good food are equally over-the-top.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I felt the book suffered from a<b>
slight overabundance of characters</b>, not all of whom were necessary. But this is
apparently the first of a seven-book series, so it’s likely Mehran plans to
return to these characters in time, and introduced them here so as to set the
stage for what is to come. This is a common device in serial fiction (see my
post on <i>Devil’s Food Cake Murder</i>),
but <i>Pomegranate Soup</i>, while not
perfect, features superior writing and better structure than most series I’ve
read recently – food-related or not. As such, it can still be enjoyed as a
stand-alone book, although I personally closed it feeling eager for the rest of
the story.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<b>Also, the novel gains a whole new
dimension when the sisters’ past is explored</b>: their escape during the Iranian
revolution involves a succession of genuinely frightening, ugly flashbacks,
which contrast starkly with their new cozy existence. What could have been a
straightforward, whimsical fable about the powers of good food is thus set
against a very real political background, which ends up making the lighter side
of the story more poignant, more essential, and ultimately less fluffy than it
would otherwise have been.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
As mentioned, there is a sequel.
It’s already on my bookshelf, and I look forward to reading it.</div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirij8Vxcoohr278u_4gpikUdgPdbfl-VPOdJCvmndw6Kl2kEvFeI1QGijaqxCYPXz5f_REOEdS8AH34YpqHkpuFb1P-poE1g1U07KP4yKVSWgCZR5d-FWDp1t1BTe0hdJ0cxdS10DjUu8/s1600/DSC_3682.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirij8Vxcoohr278u_4gpikUdgPdbfl-VPOdJCvmndw6Kl2kEvFeI1QGijaqxCYPXz5f_REOEdS8AH34YpqHkpuFb1P-poE1g1U07KP4yKVSWgCZR5d-FWDp1t1BTe0hdJ0cxdS10DjUu8/s1600/DSC_3682.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
There are many recipes in this
book, including one for <i>fesenjoon</i>
which I partially used in a previous post. But I felt I simply had to make the
title recipe, the pomegranate soup, if only because I couldn’t imagine how it
might taste. I’m just not used to cooking with pomegranate, and have trouble
projecting its effects on a dish. But I’ve never let the unknown stop me from
trying a recipe.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
As usual, <b>the tartness of the
pomegranate juice caught me off-guard</b> when I took my first spoonful. I found it
overwhelming at first, but then realized the dish needed more salt – not for
the sake of saltiness, but to bring the flavours together. It did the trick,
and the rest of my bowl was easily gulped down. With yellow split peas, rice,
and meatballs, this soup is a meal in itself, and a hearty one at that.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
Here’s the recipe, with the few adjustments I made. I
definitely recommend not substituting the lamb with some other ground meat,
which would make the whole soup insipid. I have to admit my meatballs were a
little dry when I made this. But I rarely make meatballs, so I’m not sure how
to avoid this. Pack them less densely? Reduce the simmering time? If anyone has
advice, it would be most welcome.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheKlPrN9pc6meJTtAaDrKBbm67Xo8ZTqehwG3Iqi_rjLkF046UU-TrdWumGjZYKVAZxvv3C21qw3CDGKldk5TUAsVYt7z4BQxuYZ6aToWJrNHm9Woxp_cLqe96CBvc_zYmyBxmIpjl_Yc/s1600/DSC_3676.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheKlPrN9pc6meJTtAaDrKBbm67Xo8ZTqehwG3Iqi_rjLkF046UU-TrdWumGjZYKVAZxvv3C21qw3CDGKldk5TUAsVYt7z4BQxuYZ6aToWJrNHm9Woxp_cLqe96CBvc_zYmyBxmIpjl_Yc/s1600/DSC_3676.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<b>Pomegranate Soup<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Slightly adapted from Marsha
Mehran’s <i>Pomegranate Soup</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<i>Serves 4-6<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
2 large onions, chopped</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
2 tbsp olive oil</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
125 ml (1/2 cup) yellow split
peas, rinsed</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
180 ml (3/4 cup) basmati rice,
rinsed</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
1.5 litre (6 cups) water</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
2 tsp salt, plus more fore
seasoning</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
1/2 tsp freshly ground black
pepper, plus more for seasoning</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
1 tsp turmeric</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
250 ml (1 cup) fresh flat-leaf
parsley, washed and chopped</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
250 ml (1 cup) fresh cilantro,
washed and chopped</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
60 ml (1/4 cup) fresh mint,
washed and chopped</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
One bunch scallions, green part
only, chopped</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
450 g (1 pound) ground lamb meat</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
500 ml (2 cups) pomegranate juice</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
1 tbsp sugar</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Juice of one lemon</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
In a large, heavy-bottomed
saucepan, heat the oil over medium heat. Add the onions and cook until golden
brown. Stir in the water, yellow split peas, rice, salt, pepper and turmeric.
Bring to a boil, lower heat, cover, and simmer for 30 minutes.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
If you find the water has all
been absorbed, add some as needed to keep everything from sticking. Add the
parsley, cilantro, mint and scallions to the pot, and simmer for 15 minutes.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
Meanwhile, season the meat with salt and pepper, and
shape into 2,5 cm (1 inch) meatballs. Add the pomegranate juice, lemon juice,
sugar and meatballs to the pot, and simmer for 45 minutes. Ladle into bowls and
serve hot.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1942058980138707983.post-68913738218017576762013-02-17T23:11:00.003-05:002013-02-17T23:11:52.864-05:00Save the Deli<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
So, the good news is: I’m
officially back in the kitchen. Raphaël apparently enjoys sitting in his bouncy
chair on the floor and watching me whisk things and spill stuff (obviously, I
don’t put him directly under the counter), so I’ve been able to cook relatively
freely. The less good news is: nothing I’ve made so far is especially blog
worthy. <b>Baby steps, people, baby steps</b> (pun intended).</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
So, in the meantime, let’s talk
books. <b>I’ve never been happier to be an avid reader than these past few months</b>:
it’s one of the few hobbies I could still indulge in when I was spending most
of the day nursing the baby. I can only watch so much TV, especially daytime TV.
Knitting or crochet was out of the question, as were writing and drawing.
Anything that required two relatively mobile arms was off-limits, basically. I
could still surf the Web on my iPhone, but typing anything longer than an email
just wasn’t worth the trouble (and no, I don’t own a tablet). Eventually, I did
figure out how to play video games while nursing, and life got a whole lot
better (Oh, don’t look at me like that. Yes, breastfeeding is a beautiful
experience and a precious time between mother and baby – but sometimes, you just
have to play <i>Assassin’s Creed</i>.).</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
But for the most part, I read. Nothing too
complicated, as the hormones and the lack of sleep were clouding my brain.
Still, I have a few food-related books piled up. The first is <b>David Sax’s <i>Save the Deli</i></b> (which I think I actually
read even before I was pregnant, so it’s high time I posted about it).</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<a name='more'></a><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy4SFkvtp-tVF91wpF457XY806GJMpYmfhcp84wRLGV5tjUaks6PlzbD0M4p_qXV2tp9tnkg5oZ7VAfWCsfXgejHgBQLiEwiJ1FPYvdCd2FXtfx5dHjATPFBrLa0PHMg5Yi8eYcV1KPpQ/s1600/51dvqeWNFXL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy4SFkvtp-tVF91wpF457XY806GJMpYmfhcp84wRLGV5tjUaks6PlzbD0M4p_qXV2tp9tnkg5oZ7VAfWCsfXgejHgBQLiEwiJ1FPYvdCd2FXtfx5dHjATPFBrLa0PHMg5Yi8eYcV1KPpQ/s1600/51dvqeWNFXL.jpg" height="320" width="212" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
My Dad has a story about the time
we first moved to <st1:state w:st="on">New York</st1:state>,
when I was five years old. We hadn’t found an apartment yet and lived in a
hotel room for the first few weeks. One day, when my Dad came home from work, I
greeted him excitedly: <b>“Daddy, daddy, we discovered something <i>delicious</i>!”</b> It turns out I was referring
to the deli sandwiches my Mom and I had had for lunch. Apparently, I had been
very impressed by the fact that they were made right in front of you.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
But it would be years and years
before I found out that there are delis, and then there are delis. In my story,
the deli in question was most probably a small grocery store with a take-out
counter. But this isn’t the kind of deli David Sax writes about. (On a side
note, though, Ben Ryder Howe does write about this particular type of deli in <i>My Korean Deli</i>. It isn’t really a food
book, so I won’t write a whole post about it, but it’s a funny,
self-deprecating tale about the grocery-deli business.)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<b>David Sax’s book is all about the Jewish delicatessen.</b>
The author has not only crossed the <st1:country-region w:st="on">United States</st1:country-region>
and <st1:country-region w:st="on">Canada</st1:country-region>, but even went to
<st1:place w:st="on">Europe</st1:place>, to personally try out every renowned
deli he could find. Now that’s dedication! The book chronicles his travels and
impressions, and paints a picture of the deli, past, present and future.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOylwolijNCpHCdWGyyY2EKEzXCHS-v0yfz38ejSOa6oBj5W0RRCFEgwrQX4HKcjXhB9D3UU_YMAP7H6fUfFF1KIXxDW9PIHhnbOuvv2-vvJJlDVEhT722whCRlosgBQAWreH1oBSjDso/s1600/DSC_5520.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOylwolijNCpHCdWGyyY2EKEzXCHS-v0yfz38ejSOa6oBj5W0RRCFEgwrQX4HKcjXhB9D3UU_YMAP7H6fUfFF1KIXxDW9PIHhnbOuvv2-vvJJlDVEhT722whCRlosgBQAWreH1oBSjDso/s1600/DSC_5520.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
In all honesty, it’s been several
months since I’ve read the book, so my memories are a bit fuzzy. I do remember
it being a somewhat repetitive read toward the end: <b>after all, how many times
can you read about the beauty of pastrami sandwiches and the deliciousness of knishes
before you get a little saturated? </b>It’s truly amazing that Sax himself manages
not to grow blasé over time. Then again, the man is truly passionate about deli
cuisine.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
What I do remember is the main
message, which is implicit in the title: <b>the Jewish delicatessen is in trouble
– and thus in need of saving.</b> The reasons are multiple: a waning interest in
the traditional food they serve, soaring rents, high food costs and low
profits. The profit margin on a pastrami sandwich is surprisingly low, even
more so in places where they pile on up to a pound of meat, as some famed delis
in <st1:city w:st="on">New York City</st1:city>
do.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Although delicatessen are arguably
most associated with <st1:state w:st="on">New York</st1:state>, Sax’s travels
have led him to find quality delis all over North America – including, of
course, our very own <st1:place w:st="on">Montreal</st1:place>.
Anyone who lives here knows that we have our own version of pastrami: smoked
meat. The difference, as far as I can tell, lies in the spice mixture (and most
likely a bunch of other secrets that I’m not privy to). Of course, no book
about the deli would be complete without mentioning <a href="http://schwartzsdeli.com/" target="_blank">Schwartz’s</a>, <st1:city w:st="on">Montreal</st1:city>’s landmark deli.
Sax speaks very highly of <st1:city w:st="on">Montreal</st1:city> delis in
general, and of Schwartz’s in particular, writing: <b>“If the deli is to be saved,
a large part of the solution lies in the mysterious <st1:place w:st="on">Montreal</st1:place> smoked meat.”</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Here’s where I have to confess
something: despite having lived in <st1:city w:st="on">Montreal</st1:city>
for fourteen years, and having spent many of those years living a mere five
minutes from Schwartz’s, I’ve only eaten there once. Somehow, the everlasting
queue in front of the place (even in the middle of sweltering summer) kept
discouraging me. Not only that, but I only eat smoked meat about once a year,
when Laurent’s colleagues throw their annual Smoked Meat and Beer party. Then
again, I’m a bad Montrealer in so many ways: I’ve only eaten poutine once, I’ve
never been to Cirque du Soleil, I’ve never gone to see the Habs play… If it’s
any consolation, I’m a pretty terrible Belgian, too (though not when it comes
to the food: Belgian food is awesome).</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Also, during all the time I’ve
spent in <st1:state w:st="on">New York</st1:state>,
between living there and visiting my parents, I’ve only been to a deli once:
during my honeymoon. And that was <i>after</i>
having read Sax’s book. So you may be wondering why I read this book in the
first place. Well, precisely because I didn’t know all that much about delis.
And Sax’s book was nothing if not informative and well researched – and quite
amusing at times, despite the occasional redundancies.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<b>So let me finish by telling you
about my meagre deli experience.</b> The first and only time I went to Schwartz’s,
with another novice friend, we were under the protection of another friend who
happened to be an expert. He taught us how to order, to choose between lean,
regular, fat, and extra-fat, and was impressed when we went for fat. It was
good, and satisfying, but I didn’t hanker for it after; possibly because I eat
a lot of meats and stews at home.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
When Laurent and I honeymooned in <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">New York</st1:place></st1:state> in 2011, we happened to stay in a
hotel that was close to <b>two landmark delis: the Stage, and the Carnegie</b>, which
were linked in perpetual rivalry. With Sax’s descriptions of warm, schmaltzy
chicken soup and melting pastrami still fresh in my mind, I insisted we try one
or the other. There was a long queue in front of the Carnegie, so we went to
the Stage, (where a queue formed soon after we arrived).</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKHMKqgTHyDbXeCfc6zEdaJmHdbgijBf5ldFDGOCq7JSOqaJfQFKCp4V844XPCBPwc1eQaf-Niy_CvsjDAb3EQX7tfJ2EEXGtZkYurWtFHwYZClsN4uB0nzDqfu3chyLlN7k3-mi8MhFQ/s1600/DSC_5525.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKHMKqgTHyDbXeCfc6zEdaJmHdbgijBf5ldFDGOCq7JSOqaJfQFKCp4V844XPCBPwc1eQaf-Niy_CvsjDAb3EQX7tfJ2EEXGtZkYurWtFHwYZClsN4uB0nzDqfu3chyLlN7k3-mi8MhFQ/s1600/DSC_5525.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Our elderly waiter was terrifyingly grouchy.
Seriously, he scared me. Scared me so much <i>I</i><span style="font-size: small;">
practically apologized to </span><i>him</i><span style="font-size: small;"> when I
pointed out he’d forgotten to bring us the water we’d requested. I forced
myself to polish off my matzo ball chicken soup, because I was afraid he would
yell at me if I didn’t. Instead, his reaction upon picking up my empty bowl was
one of surprise (dare I say admiration?) – which leads me to believe that
people don’t typically chow down that entire giant matzo ball.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Then came the sandwiches. And boy did they ever live
up to Sax’s description: <b>thick slices of meat piled so high the rye bread
couldn’t even hope to contain them, and the whole thing eventually crumbled
between our greasy fingers.</b> Don’t get me wrong, it was good, but it filled us
up for the entire day. Again, not something I could see myself eating on a
regular basis.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSK17jGraF8BGGhJe9PzEUdE75yTMurN1SHfKzmYydRStEhtzr17RNVy_yA25k4iIxZQmPlxoP3cpc3z9Ag209RXQMaKr8rQAqqeg0v_ZtfQp8IEGcbPGBBkN5iELRgfubPK_dLVe9DZI/s1600/DSC_5526.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSK17jGraF8BGGhJe9PzEUdE75yTMurN1SHfKzmYydRStEhtzr17RNVy_yA25k4iIxZQmPlxoP3cpc3z9Ag209RXQMaKr8rQAqqeg0v_ZtfQp8IEGcbPGBBkN5iELRgfubPK_dLVe9DZI/s1600/DSC_5526.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So, despite Sax’s engaging and enthusiastic
writing, I still feel like I’ve been on the outside of deli culture looking in. The book did give me better insight on its history, though, and accompanying respect. Maybe I should get back in touch with that old friend who took me to Schwartz’s,
get more of an insider’s perspective. Despite my lack of personal experience
with delis, I was still saddened to learn that the Stage closed at the end of
2012. It looks like Sax’s claim that the deli needs to be saved still stands.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1942058980138707983.post-84954919342746929222013-02-06T16:57:00.000-05:002013-02-17T22:57:36.188-05:00Introducing Raphaël! (Also, a rant about breastfeeding)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Hi! Anybody still here? I’m not sure how to
begin this post. “It’s been a long time” seems like the understatement of the
year so far. But I’m sure you can guess what’s been keeping me away:</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb2hLT7eSX_H5g12rI7FUxTPVYq-PIWacLmLmtu3fY58whG_ZymyOzWWyN5kzOcoPlIsza16FyjrxBWNK4L4rjA-1IDuYyVNXQ-CC2W2FC9M_JNZd5rCHWz4zKTPoGnnfGU_I3EklIYp8/s1600/DSC_2417.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb2hLT7eSX_H5g12rI7FUxTPVYq-PIWacLmLmtu3fY58whG_ZymyOzWWyN5kzOcoPlIsza16FyjrxBWNK4L4rjA-1IDuYyVNXQ-CC2W2FC9M_JNZd5rCHWz4zKTPoGnnfGU_I3EklIYp8/s1600/DSC_2417.jpg" height="265" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<b>Meet Raphaël, born on October 2<sup>nd</sup>,
2012.</b> Laurent and I feel blessed everyday to have this little guy in our lives.
I’m sure every parent says this, but he really is the sweetest little baby in
the world! At four months, he’s been sleeping through the night for quite some
time now (despite a three-week holiday trip to <st1:place w:st="on">Europe</st1:place>
and the ensuing jet-lag). He never went through his “inconsolable crying phase.”
In fact, he hardly ever cries unless there’s an easily identifiable reason –
usually that he’s hungry, gassy, or tired. And he just smiles and chatters all
the time! We love him to pieces.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I recently had a conversation
with a young woman who was saying that she didn’t feel emotionally ready to
have kids yet. My answer was that, even though having a baby was a
hundred-percent planned in my case, I never felt ready either! I knew I wanted
to have children, and I knew I wanted to have them sooner rather than later.
But does that mean I was prepared for everything being a mother entailed?
Absolutely not.<b> I <i>still </i>have trouble thinking of myself as a mother!</b> But the
thing is, I never expected to be completely ready: becoming a parent has always
seemed like such a huge, life-altering event, that I figured I would never be entirely
ready for it, no matter how much I prepared for it. I read up on the basic health-related
topics, but for the most part, I knew I was probably going to have to ad-lib my
way through it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
And that’s the way it’s been.
There’s a moment I think every new parent goes through: it’s when you get home
from the hospital, with your baby in your arms, and you look at each other and
think “Ok, what do we do now?”. Obviously, nothing will ever be the same. But
how exactly do you navigate that? So you put the baby down and you watch him
sleep for a while, and then you start wondering if you’re allowed to go do
something as mundane as have a cup of tea, or read the paper. Of course, this
state of uncertainty doesn’t last long: the baby soon wakes up crying, and
you’re off trying to figure out what’s the matter and what to do about it. And
just like that, you’re a parent. You eventually figure out that you can still
have a cup of tea while perusing the paper (in fact, moments like that
eventually become essential to your sanity), but now a huge part of your life
is dedicated to caring for this tiny, completely dependent being. <b>The challenge
is balancing everything.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I didn’t do a great job at
balancing things in the beginning. I’m very lucky that Laurent was able and
willing to take over pretty much everything in the early days: shopping,
cooking, cleaning, he did it all, while I devoted myself to Raphaël. So, even
if I’d had time to blog, I wouldn’t have had much to blog about: I didn’t touch
a skillet or mixing bowl for months.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
All newborns are very demanding in the beginning, but
in our case there was one aspect that complicated our first weeks together, and
took up nearly all of my time: <b>breastfeeding</b><span style="font-size: small;">. I know this is technically a
cooking blog, but mother’s milk is, after all, our first source of nourishment,
in most cases. And the breastfeeding experience has taken both me and Raphaël
for quite the ride. I thought I would share it today, to stall for time while I
get my butt back in the kitchen. Those of you who don’t feel like reading about
it can just scroll through the chronological photos of the baby. :-)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a name='more'></a></div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">
</span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDvYeuxziT3FbEkHMl7MRkXd7PYskJOaP1J2PA6fThKZ71HTed69n0OQkApkjIDDHTNazDjAD9j8nkUfTqYHc62ELkXx_mR5G69lr8gZjvVDUV_dcaLICwWULtYZj5v4KzmeMfrfkWMi4/s1600/DSC_0848.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDvYeuxziT3FbEkHMl7MRkXd7PYskJOaP1J2PA6fThKZ71HTed69n0OQkApkjIDDHTNazDjAD9j8nkUfTqYHc62ELkXx_mR5G69lr8gZjvVDUV_dcaLICwWULtYZj5v4KzmeMfrfkWMi4/s1600/DSC_0848.jpg" height="265" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
There was never any question for
me that I wanted to breastfeed my baby. It just seemed like the natural thing
to do. I don’t think formula is poison, as some breastfeeding advocates do (in fact,
I’m quite grateful that formula was invented, you’ll find out why in a minute),
but mother’s milk has always made the most sense to me: our bodies make it
specifically for our babies, after all. So when the nurse teaching our prenatal
class did her shtick on the benefits of breastfeeding (“It’s free!”, “It’s
easy, no equipment required!”, “Antibodies!”), I was already sold. Plus, it
seemed like a nice bonding experience.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<b>Some friends of mine have
complained that nurses here in Quebec are too militant,</b> and try to promote/push
breastfeeding onto mothers too aggressively, making them feel like bad parents
if they choose to bottle feed. “Not everyone is <i>able </i>to breastfeed,” said one
friend, whose mother had been forced to wean her early after her milk supply
dried up. I nodded, but didn’t give it much thought beyond that. After all, I
was going to breastfeed, and I wasn’t going to have any problems, and it was
all going to be super.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Except it wasn’t. Raphaël was born a healthy 3.5 kg
(about 7 pounds), after 26 hours of labour. I did everything to ensure a good
start to breastfeeding: no epidural or medication of any kind, skin-to-skin
contact immediately after the birth, and a first feeding less than two hours
after the birth. I was so exhausted by then, I honestly can’t really remember
much about that first feed, but everything seemed okay, as far as I could tell
(which wasn’t very much, given that I had never done this before). </div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">
</span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje8BcKRjj9UWRty2M5TAzqGENo0UM8ZRZA61lNePA_zzpy7tVWMh-hsORTVE5RkGHNYafWgnDLBSShXao2Oq3oFUk0VESWMHKRQyMktsdo_nK4Dubnz2ZwGPf2yslHOc6M5M8U_EkNRpY/s1600/DSC_0919.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje8BcKRjj9UWRty2M5TAzqGENo0UM8ZRZA61lNePA_zzpy7tVWMh-hsORTVE5RkGHNYafWgnDLBSShXao2Oq3oFUk0VESWMHKRQyMktsdo_nK4Dubnz2ZwGPf2yslHOc6M5M8U_EkNRpY/s1600/DSC_0919.JPG" height="400" width="265" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
After that, a nurse would come
into my room every three hours to see how the feedings were going. That’s when
things started to get weird. I knew that, contrary to popular belief, not all
newborns cry when they’re hungry, so you have to feed them on a schedule at
first; I also knew that, sometimes, newborns are too sleepy to feed and you
have to wake them and get them to nurse. But Raphaël was wide awake when I
tried to put him to breast – and yet, he wouldn’t feed. He was staring at me
with eerily expressive eyes that seemed to ask: “What on earth are you trying
to do to me, lady?”, and he simply refused to open his mouth. <b>Even the nurse,
who was used to seeing newborns do weird things, was stumped</b>. This happened
several times, until the nurse insisted that we give him some formula, to give
him some energy and get him started. After that, he finally agreed to feed, but
it remained difficult: he would only nurse about half the time, and when he did
feed he seemed to never want to stop. I was beginning to dread feedings. Each
time, I feared he would refuse to eat; at the same time, I was so exhausted
that part of me couldn’t help but feel distraught when he did latch on, knowing
I wasn’t going to be getting any sleep for a long while.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
When we got home, things seemed
to get better. Raphaël started to let me know when he was hungry, and I was
feeding him on demand, whenever he needed it. But each nursing session still
lasted a very long time, and often he would clamour for more soon after. So I
was basically spending my days breastfeeding. But I took it in stride, telling
myself that every baby is different, and that if he needed to feed so much,
well, that was just the way he was. At least, with all that nursing, he had to
be putting on a lot of weight, right?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<b>Except he wasn’t</b>. At his two-week check-up, his doctor
found that his weight gain was borderline insufficient, and asked me to feed
him more often. This was very disheartening to hear, as I was already spending
so much time nursing, but I did it. After a weekend of nursing practically
round the clock, I saw a lactation consultant, and we found that, not only was
he still not gaining weight adequately, he had actually lost some.</div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">
</span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib10EosETCQk4ct1PVE4fawMB4nXZtLbo8CN-hNsN6-OaPHLw7Z4ejIIcHaZHtMoXL-t4f77MwXR8w2oidzpLBAcBku8fV0vTYvT-Q2GgDrV-24bMAlNCfZv3SIccOfxDSUPZXdc9MYJw/s1600/DSC_1211.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib10EosETCQk4ct1PVE4fawMB4nXZtLbo8CN-hNsN6-OaPHLw7Z4ejIIcHaZHtMoXL-t4f77MwXR8w2oidzpLBAcBku8fV0vTYvT-Q2GgDrV-24bMAlNCfZv3SIccOfxDSUPZXdc9MYJw/s1600/DSC_1211.jpg" height="265" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
By definition, my lactation
consultant was very pro-breastfeeding, but in this case, even she had to order
formula supplements. This was a hard blow for me. It had never occurred to me
that I would not be able to feed my baby. I love to make nourishing food for
the people I care about. Few things make me happier than to see someone
enjoying the food I prepared for them. <b>And yet, here I was unable to meet my baby’s
needs. I couldn’t feed him in the most basic, essential way</b>. I was heartbroken.
In fact, I burst into tears right there in the consultant’s office. She handed
me some tissues and sent me on my way with a promise that she would help me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
We did the breastfeeding and
formula routine for a few weeks, while the lactation consultant decided that my
milk production was probably too low, and set me to trying to get it back up. I
took pills. I rented an electric breast-pump and pumped after every feeding. <b>The
schedule was insane</b>: between breastfeeding, bottle-feeding, and pumping, and
accounting for the time it took to clean out the pump, not to mention all the
times Raphaël threw up or pooped all over himself and required major cleaning
himself, I would usually end up with about twenty minutes of free time before
having to start the whole thing all over again. It was horrible. Then I started
getting recurring plugged ducts (which hurt like hell), and even a bout of
mastitis, an infection that required antibiotics. It was, in short, not a fun
time.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Finally, six weeks after the birth, Raphaël’s doctor
took another look at him and determined that</span><b> he was tongue-tied</b>. This basically
means that the membrane under his tongue (the frenulum) was too tight, and
prevented him from moving his tongue around as well as he should, which
interfered with his sucking. This was actually one of the first things the
doctor had looked for during our first visit, but apparently Raphaël’s
tongue-tie was of the sneaky, posterior variety, and thus hard to spot. Soon
after, the doctor performed a tiny, anaesthetic-free operation on him, and from
there on things improved a lot.</div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">
</span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRaVLOW9NYJr7WtRd8AhWJSDcixmEFGw-LlslxJBxwFjDl7Oi2JqrbgoTqmnySOEFioGmBE8KWizjCx57puxTcdm-IyWgjn_VeDixGxh9Qo3JuKJZdy2LBXTHttPhR2vxuW5Mi83VrJnw/s1600/DSC_1254.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRaVLOW9NYJr7WtRd8AhWJSDcixmEFGw-LlslxJBxwFjDl7Oi2JqrbgoTqmnySOEFioGmBE8KWizjCx57puxTcdm-IyWgjn_VeDixGxh9Qo3JuKJZdy2LBXTHttPhR2vxuW5Mi83VrJnw/s1600/DSC_1254.jpg" height="400" width="265" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
So, after all that, we’re doing
well. Three months ago, I was afraid I would have to give up breastfeeding
altogether. But today, he’s getting mostly my milk, with only minimal supplements.
He’s gotten way better at feeding, as I’ve gotten better at reading his
signals. Feedings are now a fun, cosy time for both of us.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
But with hindsight, <b>I really wish
someone had warned me beforehand about how difficult breastfeeding can be</b>. It’s
actually <a href="http://breastfeedingishard.com/" target="_blank">a complaint I’ve read in a few different places online</a>. Everywhere,
people are making such an effort to promote breastfeeding, they seem to gloss
over the unpleasant parts, and make it seem effortless and breezy by focusing
on just the positive points (“Free!” “Easy!” “Antibodies!”). I get why they’re
doing this. But I don’t think it’s the best strategy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Around the time I had Raphaël, <b>there was an
advertisement going around</b>. It showed a <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Quebec</st1:place></st1:state>
actress in a cocktail dress, nursing her child, and it read: “<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tt9w4w0dN-E" target="_blank">Allaiter, c’est glamour</a>.” “Breastfeeding is glamorous.” In French, this sort of plays a pun on
“glamour” and “amour” (love), but it went right over my head the first times I
saw it, and I can’t imagine I’m the only one (granted, I was incoherent from sleep deprivation at that point). What I can tell you is that
glamour was the last thing on my mind during those early weeks with Raphaël –
hell, even today, I consider it a victory when I manage to blow-dry my hair and
rub on some body lotion in the morning.<br />
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I pointed this out when I attended a
breastfeeding meeting, during which this ad came up: “My baby just threw up on
me. I don’t feel glamorous.” But the nurse just brushed it off: “Well, no, but
in a few months, breastfeeding will come so easily, you’ll feel just like the
woman in the ad.” </span><i>A few months</i><span style="font-size: small;">. How is that supposed to comfort the
sleep-deprived, worried new moms who are dealing with plugged ducts, a colicky
infant, low milk supply, bleeding nipples, breast infections, and all the other
things that can go wrong with breastfeeding? To me, that’s like saying: “Well,
yes, labour hurts. But it only lasts a few dozen hours, and then it’s over, so
it’s fine. Don’t dwell on it.” Prenatal classes prepare us for the pain of
childbirth, and they don’t sugar-coat it; on the contrary, they tell us to
expect the worst kind of pain, and prepare us for anything that might go wrong.
So why not do this for breastfeeding? Are they afraid it’ll turn women off,
discourage them from sticking with it? </span><b>But this strategy is counterproductive</b>.
Because what happens is that, when women hit an unexpected bump on the
breastfeeding road, they’re surprised and unprepared, and that much more likely
to quit. I was determined as hell to breastfeed, and even I came close to giving
up.<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">
</span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhByAKXsE6lDoXPsEp9dPlfXEGSgYjTrxfQqSurVGLobJj2BDlt_3Umg80YoSRxQoABZF4DihsKEyGcooL9idbffp11cxjjKUJWDD_FIFR2rJ84uSV8o9IbbrZs2txQogF-GB4ij5KewT4/s1600/DSC_1337.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhByAKXsE6lDoXPsEp9dPlfXEGSgYjTrxfQqSurVGLobJj2BDlt_3Umg80YoSRxQoABZF4DihsKEyGcooL9idbffp11cxjjKUJWDD_FIFR2rJ84uSV8o9IbbrZs2txQogF-GB4ij5KewT4/s1600/DSC_1337.jpg" height="265" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Anyways, all is well that ends
well, in our case. And, to give credit where it’s due, that’s all thanks to the
amazing professional support I’ve received. <b>Yes, those same people who over-promote
breastfeeding and gloss over its difficulties are also really great at helping
you get over those hurdles</b>. Admittedly, some of them tend to forget that you’re
a person, not just a milk-producing device, and don’t realize that spending
every waking minute feeding or pumping is just not a sustainable way of life.
But if you want the help, they’ll give it to you. And I, for one, am grateful.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go feed my baby.
We’ll return to adult food in the next post!</div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">
</span>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1942058980138707983.post-31851524970145385422012-06-12T15:47:00.002-04:002013-02-06T17:00:12.316-05:00Not your average grilled cheese - Proscuitto Croque-Monsieur with Fig Jam<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
My pregnancy is coming along, normal as can be.
At six months, my belly is starting to expand, although, sadly, not enough for
people to take notice and give me their seat on the bus. Also, it was recently
confirmed that <b>we’re having a baby boy!</b><span style="font-size: small;"> We would have been happy either way,
but at least now I know what kind of clothes to knit (although I have to confess
a twinge of disappointment that I won’t get to make any of the adorable little
dresses I’ve seen – oh well, maybe next time!)</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgINncOrwoOoXnDYGDYYCYgIa02u8AM9Ncd4GWJx4xeQDikAUG-m8kKrAaF3vMbMcQLqgf5c7nxboYX74KmJp8ZHy1CPntJoILqmk2Pzs-8h_Wer8pZ-YGtzFHC6WItNITM8Yt6gJwTgzk/s1600/DSC_7851.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgINncOrwoOoXnDYGDYYCYgIa02u8AM9Ncd4GWJx4xeQDikAUG-m8kKrAaF3vMbMcQLqgf5c7nxboYX74KmJp8ZHy1CPntJoILqmk2Pzs-8h_Wer8pZ-YGtzFHC6WItNITM8Yt6gJwTgzk/s400/DSC_7851.JPG" height="400" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is supposed to become a kaftan, eventually...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3an4bV0JtOxfY4GkvJkcZ0Z7CKGn1eo4Z2imM0mvnjZzdSBMVI5lZ_hYL44y8vt38ycapKN28-B-qEzo2Wf-RenyUMzWWPt4EHD8nj6uq_Eo3arIJHuvU1gvYvP8CdYu_hzi6elFn_Q4/s1600/DSC_7892.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3an4bV0JtOxfY4GkvJkcZ0Z7CKGn1eo4Z2imM0mvnjZzdSBMVI5lZ_hYL44y8vt38ycapKN28-B-qEzo2Wf-RenyUMzWWPt4EHD8nj6uq_Eo3arIJHuvU1gvYvP8CdYu_hzi6elFn_Q4/s400/DSC_7892.JPG" height="400" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Paprika loves to play with my needles and yarn!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 393.75pt; text-align: justify;">
I keep being
asked whether I’ve been having any <b>cravings</b>, but I have to say no, not really.
Nothing weird, at any rate – none of those strange combinations you keep
hearing about. Just the usual hankering for a spoonful of peanut butter
mid-afternoon, or a chocolate rush late evening, but that’s normal for me. A
few of the <b>food restrictions</b> surrounding pregnancy have been driving me crazy,
though. <b>Some days, I would kill for a sunny-side-up egg with a lovely runny
yolk.</b> But even partially raw eggs are apparently off-limits. So for another
three months, it’s well-cooked scrambled eggs for brunch. Yet another thing
that’s dumb about the <i>Twilight</i> saga, in
which a pregnant Bella scarfs down sunny-side-ups like they were popcorn. (And
yes, I read the <i>Twilight</i> books,
because I wanted to see for myself if they were as bad as they were rumoured to
be. They were, on a lot of levels. Although I did kind of enjoy bits of the
final book, where there was at least an attempt at world-building.) </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
The most annoying restriction,
however, has got to be the one banishing <b>deli meats and charcuterie</b>, for fear
of listeria, salmonella, and other lovely bacteria that I’m more than willing
to brave on a regular day, but which my baby is not quite equipped to handle
just yet. <b>I’ve been a sandwich girl since forever.</b> Lunch, for me, equals a
sandwich. Pregnancy has already taken delicious smoked salmon away from me (oh,
how I long for a poached egg with a side of lox!), but what am I supposed to do
without my proscuitto, saucisson, country ham, mortadella, and pâté? Switch to
tuna, you say? Sorry, that’s on the “not recommended” list (because of mercury
levels).</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I’m actually exaggerating. In
reality, deli meats are okay as long as they’re cooked and served still
steaming, as this kills the bacteria. So a pepperoni pizza is fine (thank God,
because pizza was my go-to food in the beginning). So is a panini, provided
it’s heated through. But since cold cuts don’t keep very long in the fridge
(again, on a normal day, I wouldn’t think twice about eating week-old ham, but
I’m playing it safe these days), and I don’t feel like going to the deli everyday
to ask for two slices of proscuitto, <b>I’ve pretty much gotten into the habit of
having grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I don’t fuss much for these
sandwiches: I just toss some cheese shavings (good cheese, though – I can treat
myself to that much, at least) between two slices of whole wheat bread, heat up
the panini grill, and that’s that. Quick, simple, fairly healthy – and safe. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">But the other day, when I brunched with friends at the
</span><a href="http://www.passecomposerestaurant.com/" target="_blank">Passé Composé</a><span style="font-size: small;"> café, where I had never been before, I was reminded of just how
delicious and decadent a grilled cheese can be. Because, for the first time in
a long time, I was served </span><b>an honest-to-goodness, proper, true blue
croque-monsieur.</b><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpB9uA4s2RIU5EVY94rRQwI9fuMLSqOsPCyQRxaWW5dGVX-JrsIQmdINLPTHykY5iowsXBc9U7tNtYSvLBRmN-hLmHxcN4WJ6h3kLs08g0TAT-KOReDPqwbvcUmM0A_IqxvH36JIE95b8/s1600/DSC_7922.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpB9uA4s2RIU5EVY94rRQwI9fuMLSqOsPCyQRxaWW5dGVX-JrsIQmdINLPTHykY5iowsXBc9U7tNtYSvLBRmN-hLmHxcN4WJ6h3kLs08g0TAT-KOReDPqwbvcUmM0A_IqxvH36JIE95b8/s400/DSC_7922.JPG" height="243" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
In <st1:country-region w:st="on">France</st1:country-region>
and <st1:country-region w:st="on">Belgium</st1:country-region>,
a traditional croque-monsieur is made with square sandwich bread, ham, and
gruyère or emmental cheese. The bread is generously buttered on the outside,
then pan-fried until it’s golden brown, and the cheese inside is melted. The
most basic version stops there. I’ve often seen the sandwich then topped with
more cheese and cooked au gratin. You can also top it with a fried egg (why do
eggs keep popping into my writing today?) and call it a croque-madame. And,
well, endless variations abound from there on, but that’s the gist of it. From
what I understand, grilled cheese can also be made in this manner (minus the
ham), but grilled cheese can also come out of a panini machine, or the oven;
not so for a croque-monsieur, at least not in my book.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<b>I’ve stopped ordering croque-monsieur
in <st1:city w:st="on">Montreal</st1:city>
cafés, because I’m never sure what I’m going to get. </b>I’ve gotten paninis. I’ve
been served giant stuffed baguette melts. I’ve been presented with sad,
open-faced English muffins topped with dry ham and barely melted cheese. The general
consensus seems to be that, if it has ham and cheese in it, you can call it a
croque-monsieur and thereby hope to appeal to French tourists looking for familiar
comfort food. I’m not French, nor am I a tourist. So I stopped. If I want a
baguette melt, I’ll ask for it, damn it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
But at Passé Composé, the sandwiches were the real
deal. They were called grilled cheese, and they had non-traditional
ingredients, like portobello mushrooms and goat cheese, but they were
undeniably prepared as croque-monsieurs. And boy, were they good. So good that
I dragged Laurent in to try them the week after, and then tried to recreate one
of them at home. For dinner, because this is definitely worthy of dinner.</div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">
</span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj43Ns1TJG79FCSztZjHeM0teUMTwlZiTb9nlWweo2Ev1-p7HiCBWwipSDH6W4ak8_QODdBVFUUZIDrZtqfC6XoX0nDJzNjIddNZPldRpKANgbtnqMvo-u6_s9rJVaqmuQcdkRxqrGvd2M/s1600/DSC_7928.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj43Ns1TJG79FCSztZjHeM0teUMTwlZiTb9nlWweo2Ev1-p7HiCBWwipSDH6W4ak8_QODdBVFUUZIDrZtqfC6XoX0nDJzNjIddNZPldRpKANgbtnqMvo-u6_s9rJVaqmuQcdkRxqrGvd2M/s400/DSC_7928.JPG" height="223" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I feel rather silly giving a
recipe for a sandwich. Just goes to show how much I love this one. For the
cheese, I used <b>Chèvre Noir</b>, a two-year-old goat cheddar cheese that has
impressive flavour for such a relatively young cheese, and a current favourite
of mine. And I confess, I used bottled balsamic glaze. Balsamic reduction is
like jam and preserves for me: I know how to do them, I just don’t have the
patience. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<b>Proscuitto Croque-Monsieur with
Fig Jam</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<i>Serves one</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
2 slices good quality bread,
preferably a day old (walnut bread works great here)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
2 tbsp fig jam</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
2 slices proscuitto</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Sharp cheddar cheese, sliced or
shaved (amount depends on the surface of your bread)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
1 tsp balsamic glaze</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
1 1/2 tbsp unsalted butter,
melted</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Spread the fig jam on both slices
of bread. Garnish one slices of bread with half the cheese and the proscuitto,
drizzle on the balsamic glaze, garnish with the remaining cheese, and top with
the second slice of bread.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Heat a skillet over
just-above-medium heat. Generously brush both sides of your sandwich with
butter. Fry in skillet, turning over once, until cheese is melted and both
sides are golden-to-dark brown (about 4 minutes per side). Serve immediately
with an arugula salad on the side.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1942058980138707983.post-89824492147268085192012-05-27T17:43:00.003-04:002016-06-07T21:13:53.948-04:00Don't look, taste! - Fesenjoon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
Why is it that so often, the dishes I love are
the least photogenic? Maybe it’s because I never have been very good at
presentation, so I instinctively have more affinity with stew than with
molecular cuisine, with crumbles than with triple-layer cakes. Still, don’t be
fooled by today’s dish’s dowdy appearance. It may look brown and wintery, but
it’s actually lighter than it looks, and popping with vibrant flavours.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWboMNpl-i3qv1AId3-EyhVm6i6waqUfUGDZ_LUzjDCx0oWr79a_INtaTImKU4T269R1e6YMzw2pZYgdo3piRxRQu0cOjtWDVSWKFUtEtKjP8TBmXazYCnU3TyccrXQ9A0774ARRkAMcM/s1600/DSC_7761.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWboMNpl-i3qv1AId3-EyhVm6i6waqUfUGDZ_LUzjDCx0oWr79a_INtaTImKU4T269R1e6YMzw2pZYgdo3piRxRQu0cOjtWDVSWKFUtEtKjP8TBmXazYCnU3TyccrXQ9A0774ARRkAMcM/s400/DSC_7761.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 393.75pt; text-align: justify;">
<b>Fesenjoon, </b>or
fesenjan, is a traditional Persian <i>khoresht</i>. As explained in <i><a href="http://www.amazon.ca/New-Persian-Cooking-Approach-Classic/dp/1848855869" target="_blank">New Persian Cooking</a></i>, “the nearest equivalent [of a khoresht] would be a casserole, a rich
dish with plenty of sauce.” Until recently, I knew next to nothing about
Persian food. But then I started taking an art class which happened to be
taught and mostly attended by Persians. We talked about doing a potluck, and
unfortunately never did, but hearing them talk about their native cuisine
piqued my interest. From what I gathered, there seemed to be a lot of spices
and deep flavours.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 393.75pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 393.75pt; text-align: justify;">
Fesenjoon is
traditionally made with duck, but I’ve only ever had it with chicken. The meat
is simmered with a mixture of <b>ground walnuts and pomegranate paste/juice/syrup</b>.
It’s unclear from the main recipe I used how the chicken should be cut. Another
recipe I came across called for cubed chicken. At the Persian restaurant <a href="http://www.restaurantyas.ca/" target="_blank">Yas</a>,
where we celebrated fellow blogger <a href="http://www.cheapethniceatz.com/" target="_blank">Evelyne</a>’s birthday a few weeks back, I
ordered this same dish, and the meat was indeed cubed. But because I like to
cook things on the bone when possible, I opted to cut the whole chicken into
ten pieces, and reserved the wings for future use. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 393.75pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 393.75pt; text-align: justify;">
Fesenjoon’s
appeal clearly lies in the unique combination of walnuts and pomegranate. One
recipe called for pomegranate syrup, another for pomegranate paste. Unsure
where to find either, I used <a href="http://www.pomwonderful.com/" target="_blank">POM Wonderful </a>pomegranate juice, and compensated for the amounts of sugar and liquid. The first time I made fesenjoon, I thought the
flavours were a bit muted, but having never eaten this dish, it was hard to
judge. Trying it in a restaurant helped a lot, and my second attempt was much
more successful, in my opinion. Adding <b>lemon juice</b> seemed like it would be
overkill, given that pomegranate is quite tart in itself, but it actually
brought the dish together. Served with <i>chelo</i>, plain Persian rice, it’s a meal
that is rich, but not too heavy. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 393.75pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 393.75pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 393.75pt; text-align: justify;">
<b>Fesenjoon</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 393.75pt; text-align: justify;">
Adapted from
Jila Dana-Haeri and Sharzad Ghorashian’s <i><a href="http://www.amazon.ca/New-Persian-Cooking-Approach-Classic/dp/1848855869" target="_blank">New Persian Cooking</a></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 393.75pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 393.75pt; text-align: justify;">
<i>Serves 6</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 393.75pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 393.75pt; text-align: justify;">
3 tbsp canola
oil</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 393.75pt; text-align: justify;">
One whole chicken,
skin removed, cut into 10 pieces</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 393.75pt; text-align: justify;">
2 medium
onions, diced</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 393.75pt; text-align: justify;">
One 473 ml (16
oz) bottle POM wonderful 100%
pomegranate juice</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 393.75pt; text-align: justify;">
2 tbsp
granulated sugar</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 393.75pt; text-align: justify;">
1 tsp salt</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 393.75pt; text-align: justify;">
Juice of one
lemon<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
<div style="margin: 0px;">
250g (9 oz) shelled walnuts</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 393.75pt; text-align: justify;">
Freshly ground
pepper, to taste</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 393.75pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 393.75pt; text-align: justify;">
In a food
processor, grind the walnuts finely. Reserve.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 393.75pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 393.75pt; text-align: justify;">
Heat oil in a
deep, heavy-bottomed pan over medium-high heat. Sear the chicken pieces on all
sides, then remove from pan. Add onions to the pan, and cook until golden
brown, stirring occasionally.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 393.75pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 393.75pt; text-align: justify;">
Deglaze with
pomegranate juice. Stir in sugar, salt, lemon juice, and ground walnuts. Return
chicken to pan, bring to a boil, then reduce heat to low. Cover pan and simmer
for 40-50 minutes, until chicken is tender and beginning to fall off the bone.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Remove chicken from pan and raise heat back to
medium-high. Reduce sauce, stirring occasionally, until it thickens and turns
chocolate brown. Return chicken to pan, coat in sauce, and heat through. Pepper
to taste, and adjust seasoning if necessary. Serve with chelo (Persian buttery
white rice).</div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">
</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1942058980138707983.post-46105315671542034532012-05-02T13:01:00.003-04:002013-02-06T17:01:08.877-05:00Kitchen Confidential - Vichyssoise<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Well, now… Just when I thought I
was feeling better, pregnancy nausea returned to strike with a vengeance the
other day. I was perfectly fine, I’d had breakfast and everything, when BAM –
my stomach lurched, and I had to lie down for 30 minutes before it felt safe to
move again. During those really bad bouts, the only thing that really helps me
is<b> Petit Écolier cookies</b>, those buttery French cookies with a slab of dark
chocolate superposed on top. I’ve tried substituting them with fruit, cereal
bars, sweet yogurt – nothing else does the trick. Pity they don’t travel well,
or I’d take them with me everywhere. As things stand, they have a permanent
spot on my countertop. I’m beginning to think there’s more to my love of
chocolate than simple gustative pleasure: it’s like I’m wired to turn to it in
times of distress, both physical and psychological. Wait, that sounds
unhealthy… Oh well, frankly, I don’t care, especially not these days!</div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<b>Anyways, let’s get back to books, shall we?</b> I read
today’s book quite a long time ago. Actually, I devoured it in under two days,
if I recall. It’s a classic of its kind, a book I remember my mother reading
when it came out (although I can’t be certain she actually liked it – in fact,
with all the swear words, I’m pretty sure she didn’t). Its author is one of the
most outspoken personalities in the food world, and apparently a fan of our
fair city of <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Montreal (the episode of <i><a href="http://www.travelchannel.com/tv-shows/the-layover" target="_blank">The Layover</a></i> he filmed in Montreal last summer coincidentally airs tonight on the Travel+Escape channel </st1:place></st1:city>–<st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"> or you can do what everyone else in town did months ago and <a href="http://www.travelchannel.com/tv-shows/the-layover/episodes/montreal" target="_blank">see it online</a></st1:place></st1:city>.
I’m talking, of course, about <b><span style="font-size: small;">Anthony Bourdain’s </span><i><a href="http://www.amazon.ca/Kitchen-Confidential-Anthony-Bourdain/dp/0747553556" target="_blank">Kitchen Confidential</a></i>.</b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4WoGP6zTq1nZgA9dbfc4b8m6mEV5YnaxRmvYKbjAjVcnvr8NqQBpemFTwCWHt9mFRToZECrrIz6L6ADP-f8dhcwz1yjZAl6LLdhpEF0DzYESsYc_wVDo5TCeab7sf9dUEPhTK8xe4JYU/s1600/Kitchen_Confidential.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4WoGP6zTq1nZgA9dbfc4b8m6mEV5YnaxRmvYKbjAjVcnvr8NqQBpemFTwCWHt9mFRToZECrrIz6L6ADP-f8dhcwz1yjZAl6LLdhpEF0DzYESsYc_wVDo5TCeab7sf9dUEPhTK8xe4JYU/s320/Kitchen_Confidential.jpg" height="320" width="206" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
The book chronicles Bourdain’s
discovery of the pleasures of food, his entry into the professional culinary
world, and the inner workings and dirty little secrets of the restaurant
industry. Through anecdotes, revelations, and advice (both for the home cook
and the wannabe pro), he paints a picture which I would sum up in one
expression: <b>larger-than-life</b>. From a chef who has sex with a customer (a new
bride, no less!) behind his restaurant to “Adam the psychotic bread baker”
whose magic dough makes chefs overlook his frightening behaviour, <i>Kitchen Confidential</i> is full of
outrageous characters and situations, giving an almost circus-like atmosphere
to the whole restaurant universe. Add to that Bourdain’s own, shall we say,
strong personality, and you’ve got one hell of a ride. Say what you will, it’s
an entertaining read on just about every level.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
As I mentioned briefly
in <a href="http://thechocobunny.blogspot.ca/2012/02/blood-bones-butter-marrow-bones.html" target="_blank">a previous book post</a>, <b>Bourdain’s bravado sometimes comes dangerously close to being a
turn-off</b>. His credo, he makes clear from the start, is to call it the way he
sees it, others’ opinions be damned. Most of the time, it pays off, especially
when he balances it out with self-deprecation. But sometimes, it almost comes
off as posing, or worse, as self-importance and accompanying disdain for
others, for the very people whom he believes look down on him: </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“<i>My naked contempt for
vegetarians, sauce-on-the-siders, the ‘lactose intolerant’ and the cooking of
the Ewok-like Emeril Lagasse is not going to get me my own show on the Food
Network. I don’t think I’ll be going on ski weekends with André Soltner anytime
soon or getting a back rub from that hunky Bobby Flay. Eric Ripert won’t be
calling me for ideas on tomorrow’s fish special. But I’m simply </i>not <i>going to deceive anybody about the
life as I’ve seen it.</i>”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;">As I’ve said before, there are ways of telling it like
it is without drawing attention to the fact that you’re telling it like it is,
and this isn’t one of them. It’s rather evocative that </span><b>Bourdain began his love
affair with food through sheer spite and provocation</b>: when, on a family trip to
France, his parents, tired of hearing him whine about the weird food and order
steak haché with ketchup in the land of haute cuisine, left him in the car
while they enjoy a luxury meal, he decided to become an even more daring foodie
than they are, just to “show them.” Then again, he’s not the only one to have
made a life-altering decision out of temporary spite. It’s no worse than having
it happen by accident, or through emulation. Any catalyst for what turns out to
be true passion is okay by me.</div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">
</span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhig2L2rZuw-4b0xp0QBetW-x1LuK346w4WqFS0Yc5b_BcAiB_tmD5xGF1agHiz-46mdwyvLHTiYWUV51u40xu6LOMECagjQtM4kskwKu6ikp8rW5FPD_eqEKXhSP3UwSqdCuDwqD71F3Y/s1600/DSC_3595.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhig2L2rZuw-4b0xp0QBetW-x1LuK346w4WqFS0Yc5b_BcAiB_tmD5xGF1agHiz-46mdwyvLHTiYWUV51u40xu6LOMECagjQtM4kskwKu6ikp8rW5FPD_eqEKXhSP3UwSqdCuDwqD71F3Y/s400/DSC_3595.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Overall, though, Bourdain still
comes off as genuine most of the time, and some of his grouchy rants had me
laughing out loud, even when he was being overly harsh – especially when he was
being overly harsh, in fact. He is at his best when his political incorrectness
is delivered in stride, with neither apologies nor exaggerated “look at me”
stylistic acrobatics.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
No, scratch that. <b>Bourdain is at
his true best when he lets his love of food shine through</b> – and there is
absolutely no doubt that this love is real and strong. For all his irascibility
and apparent self-destructive tendencies (I caught him on <i>The Colbert Report</i> a
while after having read the book and was surprised by how healthy he looked,
given his description of his lifestyle – perhaps he’s made some changes in the
past decade), the man also clearly loves life, and he devours it every chance
he gets – sometimes to great excess, as he unreservedly admits. And his
exhilaration is contagious. Ultimately, isn’t that one of the things we look
for in a chef memoir or any chef’s book: a renewal of our appetite not just for
food, but for life?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
There’s description of a lot of
different kinds of food in <i>Kitchen
Confidential</i>, and not all of it is good – the food, not the description.
The infamous, oft-quoted chapter where Bourdain explains how food is managed
and recycled in restaurants might make you a little queasy, not to mention
afraid (as if my pregnant self didn’t have enough to worry about regarding food
safety). Overall, though, most of the food passages are about <b>the experience of
enjoying food</b>, rather than the food itself: see for example Bourdain’s epic
supper in a <st1:city w:st="on">Tokyo</st1:city>
sushi bar. There is decadence in every line, but the focus is more on the
ecstasy of the experience, rather than the texture and flavour or the fish.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;">The same focus is evident in the opening description
of the soup that started it all: a </span><b>vichyssoise</b><span style="font-size: small;">. “</span><i>I remember everything about
the experience: the way our waiter ladled it from a silver tureen into my bowl,
the crunch of tiny chopped chives he spooned on as garnish, the rich, creamy
taste of leek and potato, the pleasurable shock, the surprise that it was
cold.</i>”</div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">
</span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiolvyZiI5Iwye-wFnc2u77n9GZgE7eObQt_0PxNys4gf9VCDieLIZxJVbIY4nerch11shG8irLQYcAUWLSTpMjXDkoW7_fUzRIjQNn_5HmEUz7cguuYxoSSo_DEYP0JnQFbmOFsm7P6bE/s1600/DSC_3601.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiolvyZiI5Iwye-wFnc2u77n9GZgE7eObQt_0PxNys4gf9VCDieLIZxJVbIY4nerch11shG8irLQYcAUWLSTpMjXDkoW7_fUzRIjQNn_5HmEUz7cguuYxoSSo_DEYP0JnQFbmOFsm7P6bE/s400/DSC_3601.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
For a long time, the only cold
soup I was even aware of was the gazpacho – and if I recall, I had my first
taste in <st1:city w:st="on">Barcelona</st1:city>,
and it was indeed a mini-revelation. Then I discovered cold squash soup.
Vichyssoise came later. I personally find it a bit heavy for regular fare, but
it’s worth making it with real cream, as the richness is part of the
experience. And yes, the crunchy chive garnish is an absolute must.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
This is a very bare-bones recipe.
I’ve seen versions with celery and parsley, but I like to keep the flavours
clean in this soup – of course, it helps that I love leeks.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<b>Vichyssoise</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="FR-CA">Adapted from Rosario Buonassisi’s <i><a href="http://www.amazon.fr/Soupes-monde-Saveurs-bienfaits/dp/2841900673" target="_blank">Les soupes du monde entier</a></i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<i>Serves 4-6</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
2 tbsp butter</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
1 onion, sliced</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
4 leeks, white part only, halved
lengthwise and sliced crosswise</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
2 medium potatoes, peeled and
chopped</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
500 ml (2 cups) chicken stock</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
250 to 375 ml (1 to 1 1/2 cup)
heavy cream, cold</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Chopped fresh chives, for garnish</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Salt and pepper, to taste</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Melt the butter in a large
saucepan over medium-low heat. Add the onion and the leeks, season with salt,
and sweat until soft, stirring often and making sure not to brown the
vegetables. Add the potatoes and stock, bring to a boil, then reduce heat, cover
and simmer for 20 minutes, until everything is tender. Adjust seasoning and let
cool to room temperature.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Purée with a mixer or in a blender until perfectly
smooth, and transfer to a tureen or large bowl. Stir in the cold cream, adding
the amount necessary to obtain the texture you seek. Adjust seasoning again.
Chill in the refrigerator until very cold, at least two hours. Ladle into bowls,
sprinkle with chives, and serve immediately.</div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">
</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1942058980138707983.post-13288889419692989462012-04-21T13:31:00.001-04:002013-02-06T17:12:33.563-05:00You know what they say about bunnies, right?<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Ok guys, I think it’s time for me
to come clean about why it’s been so quiet around here. I mentioned that I
haven’t been very interested in food, that I was working on something big…
Pretty vague explanations, I know, but the truth is, I’ve been rather afraid to
post about it. I worry something might go wrong, and then I’d have to deal with
the “public” fallout on top of having to handle my own grief. But on the other
hand, it’s such great news that not a day has gone by that I haven’t wanted to
shout it from the rooftops. So today, I’m indulging and sharing.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I’m pregnant!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
We found out in February. It
wasn’t a surprise, but it was still a shock (if that makes any sense), and it
took me a while to really believe it. Every time I took a blood test, I
breathed a sigh of relief when it confirmed my pregnancy. There was no reason
behind this, as I thankfully have no bad medical history, it’s just that it
felt so unreal. When we caught our first glimpse of the baby (the Squid, as
I’ve been calling him) at 10 weeks, I could hardly wrap my brain around the
fact that this little creature was really in there, kicking around. Even now,
at four months, I sometimes still wonder if this is really happening.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Which is silly, really, because
I’ve been having all the symptoms. Extreme fatigue was the first: I literally
slept 10 hours a day whenever I could. Then came the dreaded “morning
sickness,” which in my case manifested itself in the form of continuous nausea
and food aversions. For someone who loves to cook and eat, you can imagine how
unpleasant that was. I quickly relinquished the kitchen to Laurent, as the
smell of food cooking, particularly onions and garlic, had become intolerable
to me. The first few days, he made me whatever he felt like, but then it became
apparent that I was no longer able to eat normally: I picked at my plate,
forcing myself to swallow enough to keep myself alive and the really bad nausea
at bay (which would strike whenever my stomach was empty), but not enjoying my
meal in the least. So Laurent switched strategies and began calling me every
day before leaving work, to ask me what I wanted to eat – or rather, what I
felt I would be able to tolerate.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Which turned out to be pretty sad
stuff. I think it’s fair to say that I’m a decently adventurous eater on a
regular day: I’ll try most things at least once, I have no qualms about eating
offal or “exotic” meats, and I love experimenting with hot and spicy dishes.
But now, I was requesting the blandest food available, preferably carbs: mashed
potatoes, white rice, plain pizza… Red meat was too fibrous, fish was too
flaky, cooked vegetables were too mushy and raw ones too vegetabley. White meat
was ok, especially if it was fried and served with ketchup. Fortunately, I
could still keep down dairy products, and practically lived on them for weeks.
That and fruit, and cookies. It wasn’t about cravings, it was about figuring
out the one thing that didn’t make me wrinkle my nose in disgust at that
particular moment.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
This explains my continued
absence from all your lovely blogs, these past few weeks. As delicious as I
know they are, reading about food was simply not how I wanted to spend my time –
not when I was in a state where the peak of gastronomy, in my mind, was a can
of fruit salad.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
And, of course, once my appetite
did start to return, there were all the other restrictions to take into
account. When I was younger, I used to think the only restrictions for pregnant
women were no cigarettes and no alcohol. And indeed, that was pretty much the
case for our mothers – and I know for a fact the European ones weren’t all that
strict about the no alcohol part. Not so today. I eventually got to a place
where I felt like I could have handled eating sushi, with its clean, pure
flavours (especially after seeing the wonderful documentary <i>Jiro Dreams of Sushi</i>), but raw fish and
meat are now a big no-no, along with their smoked counterparts (so no more
smoked salmon or proscuitto crudo, unless they’re cooked). And I see no point
in eating well-done red meat (I like my steaks blue and my lamb bloody), so
that’s basically off the menu, unless it’s ground. Certain fish such as tuna
and mackerel are also forbidden, as are deli meats and pâtés, which means I
can’t even make myself a normal sandwich. No more soft-boiled or sunny-side-up
eggs, either. Oh, and no chocolate mousse, or tiramisu, or homemade ice cream,
or anything that contains raw eggs. It adds up, doesn’t it?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Given that I’ve always had a very
devil-may-care attitude about general food safety, and that I’m lucky enough
not to have any food allergies, it bugs me to have to be “that girl” in
restaurants for a few months. The one who asks questions like “Is your grilled
cheese made with pasteurized cheddar?”, “Is that cheesecake baked?”, “Do you
put the duck jambon on the pizza before or after you put it in the oven?”, and
“Can I have the sticky toffee pudding without the ice cream?”. I can’t wait to
start showing, so that people will know that I’m not picky or paranoid, I’m
just pregnant.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Laurent tells me I’m being overly
cautious, that I’m just going to end up miserable and malnourished, which can’t
be good for the baby. Maybe so, but just try eating something after you’ve read
that there’s a slight chance it might permanently hurt your baby. Those
Norwegian eggs Benedict will turn sour in your mouth. You can’t unlearn that
information. Which means I probably should’ve stayed away from the Internet in
the first place…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
But finally, last week, I started
really feeling better. First, I had a new spring in my step, an urge to
actually do something other than lie on the couch and knit baby clothes. Then,
I started cooking again. Simple things, at first. And when I went to bed one
night thinking about the elaborate goat curry I wanted to make the next day, I
knew I was back to normal. With my appetite back, it’s not so bad working
around the restrictions and thinking of meal ideas. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
So, there you have it. There are
a lot of changes in the future, and I look forward to them all. And I’m happy
to be able to post about it here as of now!<sub><o:p></o:p></sub></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1942058980138707983.post-17359085818424689882012-03-28T13:00:00.003-04:002012-03-28T13:12:58.546-04:00Daring Bakers' March Challenge - Dutch Crunch Bread<div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: justify; "><span style="font-size: 100%; "><i><b>Sara and Erica of Baking JDs were our March 2012 Daring Baker hostesses! Sara & Erica challenged us to make Dutch Crunch bread, a delicious sandwich bread with a unique, crunchy topping. Sara and Erica also challenged us to create a one of a kind sandwich with our bread!</b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span ><br /></span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Rp24D4Xz8UCl15A4Z94IAvuBwZ3lgOWP2Fx04Vhk5vp8zeCuwzQ8b3rvHyVSPzuHBuxWMSLD-HF34GuPKWqg1mp2brDXjOxTqOXrRBa9fk9G6oU-JOzoY5QTxjFj6cDw4ruwdNDNQFI/s1600/DSC_7463.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Rp24D4Xz8UCl15A4Z94IAvuBwZ3lgOWP2Fx04Vhk5vp8zeCuwzQ8b3rvHyVSPzuHBuxWMSLD-HF34GuPKWqg1mp2brDXjOxTqOXrRBa9fk9G6oU-JOzoY5QTxjFj6cDw4ruwdNDNQFI/s400/DSC_7463.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724995012834421042" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span ><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 100%; ">If I had to name types of food that I absolutely could not do without (we’re talking on an ordinary, day-to-day, basic-nutritional-needs-taken-care-of basis, not a desert island scenario), I would have to go for <b>chocolate </b>and <b>bread</b>, with cheese close behind (if I had to survive on a desert island, I’d probably go for black beans, or some other kind of legume). Chocolate is just essential to my well-being – and, according to <a href="http://well.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/03/26/the-chocolate-diet/">this New York Times article</a>, it might actually not be as bad for the waistline as you may think, quite the opposite in fact! And I tend to rely on homemade sandwiches for lunch, which makes bread an absolute necessity. Even at the peak of the Atkins craze, I knew I would never be able to go without bread.</span></div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span ><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 100%; ">I’ve mentioned this before, but I was pretty much raised on what my family calls <b>“American bread”</b>: you know, the white, milky, somewhat sweet, super soft, practically crustless slices that melt in your mouth and barely require chewing. When I visited my Belgian grandmother during the summer, she always had rather heartier bread at the table, and had to literally force me to <b>eat the crust</b>. She would cut it into bite-sized pieces and put jam on every piece, to make it go down easier, but it still felt like I was chewing jam-laden cardboard. I’m pretty sure the bread itself was actually perfectly good: I just wasn’t used to it.</span></div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-8C2Gfd-_SpSXe3vvG9xPNQQ0YOQ9NEPts5yjZLRDrnudqnX3wopctefMSZym-b1CMk1_9KWhGOzkqvVKgYvaNY7V2P0sPwrkRFHA1rt_xhNN3T0zHCGBVugp_z8xzvxdiKeGEg36Z3U/s1600/DSC_7475.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-8C2Gfd-_SpSXe3vvG9xPNQQ0YOQ9NEPts5yjZLRDrnudqnX3wopctefMSZym-b1CMk1_9KWhGOzkqvVKgYvaNY7V2P0sPwrkRFHA1rt_xhNN3T0zHCGBVugp_z8xzvxdiKeGEg36Z3U/s400/DSC_7475.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724995005028351298" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span ><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 100%; ">Well, since then, I’ve diversified my tastes in bread. My ideal bread is probably something with a super crisp crust and a cool, white crumb (I’m totally picturing <a href="http://www.tartinebread.com/">Chad Robertson’s bread</a> right now), but I’ve also learned to appreciate chewier bread such as fougasse, along with hearty whole wheat and fragrant sourdough. But, while I’ve definitely weaned myself off “American bread,” part of me still salivates in front of a pillowy, milk-based roll.</span></div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span ><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 100%; ">So this month’s Daring Bakers’ challenge was kind of a revelation for me. I had never, not once, heard of <b>Dutch crunch bread</b>, also known as tiger bread. It’s apparently a staple of the San Francisco Bay area. The concept reminded me of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Melonpan">Japanese melon bread</a> (melonpan): the bread is baked covered with a <b>layer </b>of something else. In the case of melonpan, it’s cookie dough; with tiger bread, it’s rice flour paste.</span></div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span ><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 100%; ">I made the regular, white flour based bread. The process was no more difficult than making any other bread, and I was satisfied with the final look of my tiger bread: the top layer was nice and crackled, as it should be. Apparently, Paprika the cat also approved.</span></div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhalyFHL_5JdAUNf7sKjyIOHRiBH_naN38lQGXY3ApABP_6_lpxYY4EEYcmILgE0uz8uMdnFgstcDpvD8J29fdXzYf5bUC3npZ8Y-eq92n9Me4MjiLpSO3HSJWaIv7BkVD4JeEBTe5lEMw/s1600/DSC_7485.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhalyFHL_5JdAUNf7sKjyIOHRiBH_naN38lQGXY3ApABP_6_lpxYY4EEYcmILgE0uz8uMdnFgstcDpvD8J29fdXzYf5bUC3npZ8Y-eq92n9Me4MjiLpSO3HSJWaIv7BkVD4JeEBTe5lEMw/s400/DSC_7485.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724994987622287938" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span ><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 100%; ">But as I sat munching on my <b>chicken salad sandwich</b> (made with leftover shredded chicken, diced celery, mayonnaise, and celery salt – not the most photogenic mixture, but so good!), I was struck with the perfect contrast of textures: the soft dough and crunchy topping made for an absolute delight. The crust was crispy and crackly, something even my child self would have loved. It would’ve made a great transition bread.</span></div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span ><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 100%; ">A small tip: after a day of storage in a paper bag, the topping had lost some of its crisp. But a few minutes in a low-heat oven brought the crunch right back.</span></div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7qTqlyXzBShlRjbNgC8OiRjk78KJ-2Om9vJzZb05bZJkXEZEDq-eyE4ivih0O_RpkTT6ofoobzCYe5d5rhyphenhyphenYO4aswYFiN1iF3dnRgHqljXmbwM5M5nO8cShTypUFBLaCrKqCDn3Nspeo/s1600/DSC_7490.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7qTqlyXzBShlRjbNgC8OiRjk78KJ-2Om9vJzZb05bZJkXEZEDq-eyE4ivih0O_RpkTT6ofoobzCYe5d5rhyphenhyphenYO4aswYFiN1iF3dnRgHqljXmbwM5M5nO8cShTypUFBLaCrKqCDn3Nspeo/s400/DSC_7490.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724994977305021266" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span ><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 100%; ">My thanks to Sara and Erica for this cool challenge! Please take a look at the <a href="http://thedaringkitchen.com/recipe/dutch-crunch-bread">challenge recipes</a> if you’re interested in discovering the charms of Dutch crunch bread for yourselves, and take a look at <a href="http://thedaringkitchen.com/blogroll/bakers">the Daring Bakers’ blog roll</a> while you’re there!</span></div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1942058980138707983.post-29819887807082979662012-03-14T13:34:00.002-04:002012-03-14T14:51:14.022-04:00Daring Cooks' March Challenge - Braises<div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: justify; "><span style="font-size: 100%; "><i><b>The March, 2012 Daring Cooks’ Challenge was hosted by Carol, a/k/a Poisonive – and she challenged us all to learn the art of Braising! Carol focused on Michael Ruhlman’s technique and shared with us some of his expertise from his book “Ruhlman’s Twenty”.</b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span ><br /></span></div><span ><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 100%; ">I have a confession to make: food is not on my mind these days. At all. I’m working on something kind of big and very time consuming right now, and I just have little energy for the kitchen. I’ll get back to it eventually, hopefully sooner than later, but for now I need to prioritize.</span></div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span ><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 100%; ">Having said that… you don’t stay in grad school for years and years without having an enduring, compulsory urge to <b>do your homework</b>. You may do it sloppily at times, you may hand it in late – but your inner neurosis compels you to do it, no matter what. At least, that’s how it is for me. And the Daring Kitchen challenges are kind of like homework to me: fun homework, most of the time, but still something I feel I have to do. On the rare times I’ve missed a challenge altogether, I’ve felt awful. And so, I squeezed this one in.</span></div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span ><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 100%; ">It helped that this month’s challenge was particularly delicious. I’m a long-time fan of <b>the braising technique</b>. Take an oft-maligned cut of meat, simmer it for hours, and end up with something tender, flavourful, and irresistibly comforting: that’s braising. Our hostess gave us many recipes, each more alluring than the next, but I knew right away which one I wanted to try: <b>pork belly with caramel miso sauce</b>.</span></div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNqUI10s462LiFBMplys015edkXMRTpzimlhCVy7w9QzRPSYKtfPZsEvvCUnIc_a10kRjN7RreyMffODk3ihpzH4MDGbyo5bFscLjknnFvTBSe72b9BRH3nrEZWbyBs4UOK42UKY8mug0/s1600/DSC_7415.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 265px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNqUI10s462LiFBMplys015edkXMRTpzimlhCVy7w9QzRPSYKtfPZsEvvCUnIc_a10kRjN7RreyMffODk3ihpzH4MDGbyo5bFscLjknnFvTBSe72b9BRH3nrEZWbyBs4UOK42UKY8mug0/s400/DSC_7415.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5719808078865344514" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span ><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 100%; ">There’s something about <b>miso </b>that enriches every recipe you can integrate it in. We love it around here: in soups, in salad dressing, in sauces… But I had never tried pairing it with caramel, and was very intrigued by what the result would be. <b>And pork belly is just amazing.</b> It’s a very trendy cut of meat in restaurant these days, but still relatively difficult to find fresh, outside of Asian supermarkets (other stores tend to carry a salt-preserved version, which doesn’t work with many recipes). Usually, I slow-roast it with dry heat, slice it, and use it in <b>ramen, or sandwiches.</b> But I had no doubt it would lend itself well to braising. I also learned that adding acids to the braising liquid, such as citrus or vinegar, helps break down the tough meat fibres and make the meat more tender.</span></div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span ><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 100%; ">Everything went well, except when the time came to cut the pork belly into large cubes and pan-fry them before coating them in sauce. This should have solved one of the only problems with braises and stews: they are not typically photogenic. Often, you end up with a shapeless blob, covered in sauce. Here, I should have ended up with pretty, golden little cubes, artfully arranged upon my plate – if only I had used a better pan. My old non-stick pan is getting on in years, and it stuck, which kind of ruined the presentation.</span></div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDlwTI5hpg2D5I1GNfLOJMF0jXQMCyabzyUotfX5wFHpHPseEsVVxmiISXuEtS6uZvP5hOhtWLqBqj4QcTUrD3_f132hOObFfj0mWf-yLVefpPUe0tJeomI7z0fuzPWTHtN2rs9hMp3LU/s1600/DSC_7429.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDlwTI5hpg2D5I1GNfLOJMF0jXQMCyabzyUotfX5wFHpHPseEsVVxmiISXuEtS6uZvP5hOhtWLqBqj4QcTUrD3_f132hOObFfj0mWf-yLVefpPUe0tJeomI7z0fuzPWTHtN2rs9hMp3LU/s400/DSC_7429.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5719808070967964818" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span ><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 100%; ">But no matter: it tasted great. The sweet-and-salty combination of miso and caramel was amazing, and the pillowy chunks of rich pork melted in our mouths. I definitely recommend trying out this recipe.</span></div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span ><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 100%; ">My thanks to Carol for this challenge! Please check out the Daring Kitchen to look at <a href="http://thedaringkitchen.com/recipe/brave-braise">all the challenge recipes</a>, and go through <a href="http://thedaringkitchen.com/blogroll/cooks">the Daring Cooks’ blog roll</a> to see what everyone else braised this month!</span></div></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1942058980138707983.post-52006386001668853662012-02-28T13:25:00.002-05:002012-02-28T13:33:46.637-05:00Daring Bakers' February Challenge - Quick breads<div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: justify; "><span style="font-size: 100%; "><i><b>The Daring Bakers’ February 2012 host was – Lis! Lis stepped in last minute and challenged us to create a quick bread we could call our own. She supplied us with a base recipe and shared some recipes she loves from various websites and encouraged us to build upon them and create new flavor profiles.</b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span ><br /></span></div><span ><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 100%; ">I’ve been feeling under the weather these past couple of weeks. Nothing serious at all, but one of the consequences is that I have been completely uninterested in food. I’ve been completely absent from the kitchen, picking at my dinner plate in spite of Laurent’s efforts to make me something I would enjoy, and generally not being myself. It’s finally starting to get better, though – just in time for this month’s Daring Bakers’ challenge!</span></div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinWhCczsmMYSlquZt4GqTR7DRmlTKdXARCBXynk77voix_Jt5f571D2LvKZCbleZ_xxTDiC2v35YTtctrwu-kTcDfqyEuLvUcjE49N44aZG2b1C1gDS1yL6SrGfYInWM3uHkD967tfevU/s1600/DSC_7226.jpg" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinWhCczsmMYSlquZt4GqTR7DRmlTKdXARCBXynk77voix_Jt5f571D2LvKZCbleZ_xxTDiC2v35YTtctrwu-kTcDfqyEuLvUcjE49N44aZG2b1C1gDS1yL6SrGfYInWM3uHkD967tfevU/s400/DSC_7226.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714254614644232386" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span ><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 100%; ">It helped that quick breads are really easy to make. They are breads which require no yeast, and rise in the oven thanks to baking powder and baking soda. Our hostess, Lis, had to put this challenge together at the last minute, but she managed to find a bunch of fun recipes. However, in my convalescent state, I was not in the mood for anything adventurous. Normally, I would have gone straight for the <b>cheddar, green onions and asagio beer batter bread</b>, but the thought of beer and cheese somehow turned my stomach under the circumstances. </span></div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span ><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 100%; ">So, once again, I turned to <b>my old friend chocolate</b>. Even when I’m feeling sick, I still love it.</span></div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span ><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 100%; ">Back when I was a teenager living with my parents, we would often visit <a href="http://www.degascogne.com/index_en.html">Pâtisserie de Gascogne</a>, a local bakery. They had the most delicious pastries… One of my favourite treats was <b>a slice of moist chocolate quick bread, so rich with cocoa flavour it was almost overpowering.</b></span></div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY2V3TBEGPpAS6uWFzZrfo3kDd8Ju0kExmuk_oFpLgVzRp4HtoHQrzVMsvmn2z1a1ApHY-QUhsqpeHXZiUl1YKuX1TJON4s2pp4k4Aq1jY5Sh3ZQX1JvzhvlWOLcAibnQ_I1z8rUh2VkM/s1600/DSC_7246.jpg" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY2V3TBEGPpAS6uWFzZrfo3kDd8Ju0kExmuk_oFpLgVzRp4HtoHQrzVMsvmn2z1a1ApHY-QUhsqpeHXZiUl1YKuX1TJON4s2pp4k4Aq1jY5Sh3ZQX1JvzhvlWOLcAibnQ_I1z8rUh2VkM/s400/DSC_7246.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714254607791034658" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span ><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 100%; ">Unfortunately, I wasn’t quite able to recreate it. The recipe I followed wasn’t nearly heavy enough on the chocolate. But drizzling it with syrup kept it nice and moist, and it was still a very acceptable treat. Only problem is, I forgot to take a picture until it was already half-eaten. Oh well, you get the idea. </span></div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span ><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 100%; ">Thank you Lis, for putting together this challenge under pressure! Please check out the Daring Kitchen for <a href="http://thedaringkitchen.com/recipe/quick-breadsmuffins-popovers">the challenge recipes</a>, and look at <a href="http://thedaringkitchen.com/blogroll/bakers">g</a> to see what everyone else whipped up this month!</span></div></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1942058980138707983.post-36750276110396008112012-02-16T15:39:00.005-05:002012-02-16T16:04:35.197-05:00Daring Cooks' February Challenge - Röstis<div style="text-align: justify;"><i><b>The Daring Cooks’ February 2012 challenge was hosted by Audax & Lis and they chose to present Patties for their ease of construction, ingredients and deliciousness! We were given several recipes, and learned the different types of binders and cooking methods to produce our own tasty patties!</b></i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcboo09_wnuZuzrMJBQuJVHkr-Ncy0IxmRIl_5W_YgV6rLG29xyhNjsYA_TQ5tejE97qcQdIhbwvGyywCfDNSq3421r8VLjYKvFvzyvAVO4qUTAh6VbKOC1Bm9UUmEGbs2Vzbue6yVkQ4/s1600/DSC_7052.JPG"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcboo09_wnuZuzrMJBQuJVHkr-Ncy0IxmRIl_5W_YgV6rLG29xyhNjsYA_TQ5tejE97qcQdIhbwvGyywCfDNSq3421r8VLjYKvFvzyvAVO4qUTAh6VbKOC1Bm9UUmEGbs2Vzbue6yVkQ4/s400/DSC_7052.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5709839799984933602" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">My apologies, I’m posting late again. I actually completed this month’s DC challenge weeks ago, but I was extremely busy yesterday and the day before, preparing and giving a conference, so I had to postpone this post.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Sooooo… “Patties,” you say? Not the most difficult challenge, nor the most aesthetic. But sometimes, the Daring Kitchen challenges are about creativity and simple technique, not complexity. Not that I was particularly creative: I made<b> röstis.</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbmMHgqYd6vUvp3fGPBZ33IiIb09cU7KnH_sXtRlptMi3CohoIUw3vvNOevz_OJ3olFig4Arehn7mju7rTLlrgUQoYY-0xGASMAxxisuF-aiTptaJjYCgOf3NqqasCvVJW5GMLwoO45LU/s1600/DSC_7057.JPG"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbmMHgqYd6vUvp3fGPBZ33IiIb09cU7KnH_sXtRlptMi3CohoIUw3vvNOevz_OJ3olFig4Arehn7mju7rTLlrgUQoYY-0xGASMAxxisuF-aiTptaJjYCgOf3NqqasCvVJW5GMLwoO45LU/s400/DSC_7057.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5709839167578969682" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">What can I say, there’s something about <b>crispy potatoes</b> that I find irresistible. French fries, oven-roasted potatoes, latkes… Their presence on the table always brings a smile to my face. I’d never made röstis, although I’d had them. It turns out their preparation is very similar to latkes, except they are thinner and aren’t deep-fried. Other than that, they’re basically shredded potato patties.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">We made one giant rösti, which we cut into wedges and ate the way we usually eat latkes: with <b>smoked salmon and crème fraîche</b>. Delicious! Crispy potatoes triumph again!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX34CC3BcWjtsT0gFsjeocwNtpXyFStPvjhD3l0KzOi5Umltw7IAvwx0kW9gn-DPYQPn0OJtOvhuNPSh6a_xJVwr8rzDu4ojY8q7bCAwH1sOz29pbMDcZvuYNKiwkOUlqYqZPa6xmCloU/s1600/DSC_7064.JPG"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX34CC3BcWjtsT0gFsjeocwNtpXyFStPvjhD3l0KzOi5Umltw7IAvwx0kW9gn-DPYQPn0OJtOvhuNPSh6a_xJVwr8rzDu4ojY8q7bCAwH1sOz29pbMDcZvuYNKiwkOUlqYqZPa6xmCloU/s400/DSC_7064.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5709838321767820226" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">And that’s really all I’ve got for you this month. My thanks to Audax for this tasty challenge! Please check out the Daring Kitchen to look at the <a href="http://thedaringkitchen.com/recipe/flipping-frying-patties">challenge recipes</a>, as well as <a href="http://thedaringkitchen.com/blogroll/cooks">the Daring Cooks’ blog roll</a> to see what everyone else cooked up this month!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1942058980138707983.post-77007833138900793052012-02-08T15:58:00.004-05:002012-02-08T16:11:47.675-05:00Blood, Bones, & Butter - Marrow Bones<div style="text-align: justify;">Back to book reviews, and today’s book is a good one: Gabrielle Hamilton’s memoir <i><a href="http://bloodbonesandbutter.net/">Blood, Bones, & Butter</a></i>. As you may know, I'm not very up-to-date on chef culture. I know who most of the culinary stars are, but I'm usually very late in finding out about them, and I had never heard of Ms. Hamilton (although, having read her book and <a href="http://thechocobunny.blogspot.com/2012/01/honeymoon-pt2-prune.html">eaten her food</a>, I’m glad I know who she is now). So I delved into the book with no particular expectations, apart from cautious optimism due to the glowing reviews the book has received.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL_FeVnkZQWSRu2kqlxYnPng4ch1kmJqL6i8zdzNb4yS2fgt7SYngSAYYmNU28MjsgdrGh5jJwC7xraFGrRoOxKbVyXKDA8aVLv8GBQS9GWyu8w-cbDCPmvM502zakh0GolDK_clsrtyc/s1600/blood-bones-and-butter.jpg"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 251px; height: 400px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL_FeVnkZQWSRu2kqlxYnPng4ch1kmJqL6i8zdzNb4yS2fgt7SYngSAYYmNU28MjsgdrGh5jJwC7xraFGrRoOxKbVyXKDA8aVLv8GBQS9GWyu8w-cbDCPmvM502zakh0GolDK_clsrtyc/s400/blood-bones-and-butter.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706873236499132722" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The first chapter describes an almost idyllic childhood memory, with Gabrielle's parents having their annual lamb roast party at their rural home, with the entire neighbourhood invited. I allowed myself to dream a little, having never really known that type of universe (our family parties took place in restaurants, sometimes small manors when the occasion was really big, but we certainly never had whole lambs roasting over pit fires). <b>But the nostalgia doesn’t last long,</b> as Hamilton quickly jumps into the dissolution of her family, and having to survive on her own at a young age. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">When the book began to delve into <b>cooking, drugs, and rock 'n roll</b> (not so much sex), I worried a little. I have nothing against bad boy or bad girl narrators, but if it's overdone, the author can end up looking like a poseur, especially in this type of profession-based memoir. For example, while I thoroughly enjoyed Anthony Bourdain's <i>Kitchen Confidential</i> (another book on my review list), sometimes I rolled my eyes at some of his over-the-top descriptions of how badass chefs are, and a few passages which were clearly meant to provoke (admittedly, the whole book was meant to provoke, but some pages are heavier-handed than others). Don't get me wrong, I think Bourdain is a very genuine person, who tells it like it is; but <b>surely there are ways of telling it like it is without purposefully drawing attention to the fact that you are telling it like it is?</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-8L5qxbPkj6WfeZTyPEl9pn99BL-Rm8yCZsxSi0UbeRl14ohc_qrRkqUTTLrr5RdFMR4Cu_Kg5uTM_Q6zGh3E_Meox_UEL6wk0YfhUfJ2cZSqM_9MRFbI4ShTLvZxy7Q-nQgn0-WPjdo/s1600/DSC_3623.JPG"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-8L5qxbPkj6WfeZTyPEl9pn99BL-Rm8yCZsxSi0UbeRl14ohc_qrRkqUTTLrr5RdFMR4Cu_Kg5uTM_Q6zGh3E_Meox_UEL6wk0YfhUfJ2cZSqM_9MRFbI4ShTLvZxy7Q-nQgn0-WPjdo/s400/DSC_3623.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706873048288969602" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Gabrielle Hamilton accomplishes just that. Although segments of her life were definitely tough, and that she had to be equally tough in order to get through it and come out on top, she doesn't flaunt her “cred.” There is a humility, and even a vulnerability which pervades this book. Sure, sometimes she gets a little nasty, as in this passage <b>where she rags on farmer’s market hipsters</b>: </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i>“There’s always the girl with the bicycle, wandering along from stall to stall with two apples, a bouquet of lavender, and one bell pepper in the basket of her bicycle. A teeming throng of New Yorkers tries to push past her to get to the vegetables for sale, but she shifts her ass from side to side, admiring the way her purchases are artfully arranged for all to see in the basket of her bike, and she holds up the whole process. And I struggle, as well, with the self-referential new kind of farmer, aglow with his own righteousness, setting up his cute booth at the market each morning, with a bouquet of wildflowers and a few artfully stacked boxes of honeycomb and a fifteen-dollar jar of bee pollen. And from what I’ve seen, that guy behind the table, with his checkered tablecloth and his boutique line of pickled artichoke hearts in their jar with their prissy label packed just so, he </i>wants <i>to talk to Miss Bicycle, to Miss I’ve-spent-four-hours-here-this-morning-to-buy-these-three-cucumbers. He gets off on it. I stopped going to the farmer’s market years ago when some hipster chick in sparkly barrettes and perfectly styled ‘farmer’ clothes came screeching at me ‘DON’T TOUCH THE PEAS!’”</i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Harsh, yes. But also spot-on and elegantly written, with impressive flow – besides, not everyone can be as sunny as Julia Child. Somehow, Hamilton’s criticisms always seem justified, whether she’s ranting about her clueless landlord, or wishing bear-related death on a group of stoned camp counsellors who accidentally let thirty lobsters drown. Similarly, she makes you long to meet the people she admires – and they are numerous (albeit less effectively entertaining, which is why they don’t get a quote in this post. Hey, I never said<i> I</i> couldn’t pander to the masses.).</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRhNV2NBDrZ0dhipuh-XPgLye_WRXy3dhHN9jo30SqKG_q5qtOHew8HhwrqStf4H_W7Nrr92ea1tBxIpa-8TIv9kpqZjW29UioXUMBanQPaShT19iUV3OpvJVvRbxrpdylHx_OYAEJaE0/s1600/DSC_3637.JPG"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRhNV2NBDrZ0dhipuh-XPgLye_WRXy3dhHN9jo30SqKG_q5qtOHew8HhwrqStf4H_W7Nrr92ea1tBxIpa-8TIv9kpqZjW29UioXUMBanQPaShT19iUV3OpvJVvRbxrpdylHx_OYAEJaE0/s400/DSC_3637.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706873043157911970" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">There are many striking passages, such as <b>her scary account of the food catering business</b> (which I unfortunately read while we were making wedding preparations), and her enthusiastic description of her <b>travels </b>in Europe, particularly Italy. And while food, glorious, unpretentious food, is a huge part of the story, it shares the limelight with a plethora of other topics, as Hamilton explores her inexplicably strained relationship with her mother, her fertile marriage to a man despite the fact that she identifies as a lesbian, and her stint in a university writing program. There is a lot of insight in this book, and a lot of soul.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The book doesn’t contain any recipes, but it did inspire me to make something. Hamilton’s highest praises are usually reserved for <b>well-made dishes using simple ingredients</b> – nothing high concept or fussy. This is clearly reflected in the food she serves at her restaurant. Among other things, she mentions that her mother, an excellent but frugal cook, used to make her and her siblings eat marrow bones, and that she grew up to love them.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi64hwnqG3EbEvg_nPRKLgTDRI-7tGl9bAqpkkwfrOdgCfrgY-fSNLsk_NQ1kAj_XgpOJh-HMkZVryjJK8NaBQmjgA35g-Z1BNlz9wqgz0ldXRaWcMW74Zl-arSvjEnf79VtuC-E0EvnUM/s1600/DSC_3646.JPG"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi64hwnqG3EbEvg_nPRKLgTDRI-7tGl9bAqpkkwfrOdgCfrgY-fSNLsk_NQ1kAj_XgpOJh-HMkZVryjJK8NaBQmjgA35g-Z1BNlz9wqgz0ldXRaWcMW74Zl-arSvjEnf79VtuC-E0EvnUM/s400/DSC_3646.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706873033446594098" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>I, for my part, have always loved marrow bones.</b> When I was a child, it was always a treat when my mother made osso bucco. The meat by itself was succulent, but somehow my mother succeeded in getting me to consider the marrow not as something vile, which I suppose would be most children’s first reaction (and a significant number of North American adults, from what I’ve seen), but as a luxury. I would scoop up the soft, rich, glistening matter and savour it with relish. Then I would eye my parents’ plates, hoping that love for their only child would move them to give me their bones – and it often did.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But you don’t have to splurge on veal shanks to enjoy marrow. Despite marrow’s luxurious aura, meatless veal bones are dirt cheap, and easy to prepare. Also, a little marrow goes a long way, so you will soon find yourself sated and happy.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Roasted Marrow Bones</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">from Mark Bitterman’s <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Salted-Manifesto-Essential-Mineral-Recipes/dp/1580082629">Salted</a></i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i>Serves 3-4 as a substantial appetizer</i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">12 veal marrow bones</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Four handfuls of flat leaf parsley, chopped</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Coarse salt, preferably sel gris (from l’Île de Noirmoutier if possible)</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Plain white bread, thinly sliced and lightly toasted on one side</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Preheat oven to 230ºC (450ºF).</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Place the bones, marrow side up, on a baking sheet. Roast until the there is a visible film of melted marrow on the baking sheet, and the marrow begins to sink in the center of the bones and feels quite tender when you poke it with a knife, about 30 minutes depending on the size of the bones. Keep an eye on them toward the end of the process, as you don’t want the marrow to completely melt.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">To serve, arrange the bones on a plate, with parsley and salt on the side. To eat, scoop the marrow from the bones, spread it over slices of bread, and sprinkle with parsley and salt.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1942058980138707983.post-91263375973696467282012-01-27T10:41:00.004-05:002012-01-27T11:01:21.866-05:00Daring Bakers' January Challenge - Scones<div style="text-align: justify;"><b><i>Audax Artifex was our January 2012 Daring Bakers’ host.. Aud worked tirelessly to master light and fluffy scones (a/k/a biscuits) to help us create delicious and perfect batches in our own kitchens!</i></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFiv9SDKmqVF34EU8zVKX0Sf3HAxFcPws9VxVM4Nr3b3eTs6xR52ymGbxmRwbbu9l6mbyG2OTuKprIjhWFure-LUPKGtUNb79wpjmRuwigLmaLhIspQlSPfkBE1HoM2A34Qve4fk9L7P0/s1600/DSC_7020.JPG"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFiv9SDKmqVF34EU8zVKX0Sf3HAxFcPws9VxVM4Nr3b3eTs6xR52ymGbxmRwbbu9l6mbyG2OTuKprIjhWFure-LUPKGtUNb79wpjmRuwigLmaLhIspQlSPfkBE1HoM2A34Qve4fk9L7P0/s400/DSC_7020.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5702338798844740850" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I had a dual reaction when I saw this month’s DB challenge. The first was “Yaaaay, easy challenge!” The second was “Nooooo, more biscuits!”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Don’t get me wrong, I love scones/biscuits.</b> So much so that I’ve made quite a lot of them in recent months. I made big, cheddar-and-chives scones for a party. I made <a href="http://thechocobunny.blogspot.com/2011/12/merry-christmas-orange-lard-cookies.html">tiny biscuits</a> for Christmas. I made a cheese-and-bacon version of those same tiny biscuits for New Year’s – and, since we were supposed to join a large crowd for the occasion, I made close to 150 of them. Except we ended up not going, because I was sick. I gave a third of the biscuits to my in-laws, and forced another third onto some friends who innocently passed by a few days later. Part of the remaining third is <i>still </i>in our freezer. So I was understandably not too jazzed about making more of these things.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But a challenge is a challenge! And our host, Audax, put so much work into this deceptively simple one that I would’ve felt bad playing hooky. <b>Scones are one of the easiest baked goods out there:</b> there are few ingredients, no beating eggs, no creaming butter, and minimal kneading. In fact, the less you handle the dough, the better. So it’s the little things that make the difference between an acceptable biscuit, and a great one. And Audax did a great job at reuniting all the tips that can help.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV-A2qaA7v3qrS2QfA_3JdPzfEostTuEmTMmO8cd0LWxyjkAT3AEO5zi5ZkYo_sn2LBFoeqNCA_oqvb_XkYNq6WAQcXyOIqlEXS7a1vKaVukgAQ5OVa8-iuLsTSGI2iPXAwQDWDNOGpwU/s1600/DSC_7021.JPG"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV-A2qaA7v3qrS2QfA_3JdPzfEostTuEmTMmO8cd0LWxyjkAT3AEO5zi5ZkYo_sn2LBFoeqNCA_oqvb_XkYNq6WAQcXyOIqlEXS7a1vKaVukgAQ5OVa8-iuLsTSGI2iPXAwQDWDNOGpwU/s400/DSC_7021.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5702338787582686578" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Another cool thing about scones is that they are very versatile. We actually don’t eat a lot of breakfast or tea pastries, so I usually make savoury scones. On the day I decided to do the challenge, I had planned to make a spicy Thai soup for dinner. So, in order to end up with a somewhat coherent meal (as opposed to the weird Italian-Indian-Thai combos I sometimes wind up with), I experimented with <b>shiitake scones</b>.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I really wasn’t sure whether it would work. I followed the basic recipe, adding 1/2 cup of finely chopped rehydrated shiitake mushrooms and 1/4 teaspoon of baking soda. I kept the dough wetter than I usually do, too. When I was making huge batches of biscuits, I would use the food processor, but given that this was a fairly small load (8-9 medium scones), I mixed it by hand, using my fingers to incorporate the butter.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXyOF1xPoSYx6OonZMsuZG_fa6EI6gCeM5OD9tH_4TSUYNKNhT-qykw0-9cI6-ddQLouE9SfP71SWv2pNau_tULXplij4ViLv37LCiJFHVxVE_D-fcCV_Duy_707hzFwDbrJXDfp2aDUA/s1600/DSC_7027.JPG"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXyOF1xPoSYx6OonZMsuZG_fa6EI6gCeM5OD9tH_4TSUYNKNhT-qykw0-9cI6-ddQLouE9SfP71SWv2pNau_tULXplij4ViLv37LCiJFHVxVE_D-fcCV_Duy_707hzFwDbrJXDfp2aDUA/s400/DSC_7027.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5702338778407632402" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I did kind of a bad job rolling out the dough, so I got an uneven rise on some of the scones. But rise they did, and the crumb was light and fluffy. The flavour itself was decent, although it could have used more salt. I had actually contemplated putting soy sauce into the dough, but had decided against it; although I’m still very curious as to what would have happened. Overall, though, I doubt shiitake scones will be the next big Asian side dish... They were <i>okay</i>, but I would prefer a bowl of rice or some noodles any day. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The scone below was made from my last scraps, which I stacked. It looks freaky, but it was practically as good as the others.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrQQPZ4xOxxuqp0yv1H42GFKpQAxRqpkOczV_5nsRRlpHgIylbPSAGnwCIntnQW74a-R9VsC7M4rn3orIeTtdKEu5Ho-xRwTKNlh7_jBjzcupTLnk9OHF4HvnJyUWWNMSm-lCkqLRhdcg/s1600/DSC_7023.JPG"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrQQPZ4xOxxuqp0yv1H42GFKpQAxRqpkOczV_5nsRRlpHgIylbPSAGnwCIntnQW74a-R9VsC7M4rn3orIeTtdKEu5Ho-xRwTKNlh7_jBjzcupTLnk9OHF4HvnJyUWWNMSm-lCkqLRhdcg/s400/DSC_7023.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5702338777647021298" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Thanks, Audax, for a cool challenge! Please check out the challenge recipes at the Daring Kitchen (link to be updated as soon as the recipes go up), and take a look at the <a href="http://thedaringkitchen.com/blogroll/bakers">Daring Bakers’ blog roll</a> to see what everyone else whipped up! </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1942058980138707983.post-89692810961560851182012-01-24T12:44:00.004-05:002012-01-24T13:02:08.546-05:00Happy Chinese New Year / Têt / Oshogatsu / *insert other appellations* everyone!<div style="text-align: justify;">Happy Year of the Dragon to everyone!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I've been trying to figure out if I know any dragons, but apart from a distant cousin or two, I can't think of one. The only dragons I regularly encounter are the ones I slay in Skyrim these days (some of which are, incomprehensibly, easier to kill than frost trolls, and even some types of bandits).</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I can hear you: "Why are you rambling about a video game, this is a food blog! Where's the food?!" Well, I did make food. Because, as much as I generally dislike regular New Year (I don't know why, I can never completely get in the spirit of it, maybe because Christmas is so much better), I love Têt. Not that we ever celebrated it in a huge way. I actually have a fairly large number of Vietnamese and half-Vietnamese relatives, but they're scattered all over the world, so I've never gathered around a food-laden table with them. I can't recall my mother ever making traditional dishes for the occasion, although I'm sure she made a special effort on that day. Regardless, I just like it.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Of course, with just the two of us, making a whole array of dishes isn't really an option, and Têt crept up on me this year, so there was no time to put a crowd together. So, last night, I just made Vietnamese caramelized ribs, and Japanese shiruko (sweet azuki bean soup).</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">"What, no pictures? No recipe?" Sorry, not this time. I'd made the ribs before, but this time they came out too salty and very unphotogenic, albeit still good. The shiruko was fine, but desperately needs some fine-tuning, and looked too watery. So, call me picky, but they were not blog-worthy.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I'll be back with a real post later. I just wanted to highlight the New Year and wish a lot of happiness and joy to all of you!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1942058980138707983.post-32763203975669195032012-01-18T13:27:00.006-05:002012-01-18T14:04:16.925-05:00The Honeymoon, pt.2 - Prune<div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">And now we come back to our not-so-recent-anymore trip to New York. As mentioned previously, I didn't have a lot of restaurants on my list of destinations, so a lot of the time we just drifted along and stepped in whatever place looked good; after all, there is no shortage of restaurants in NY. But there was one place, apart from <a href="http://thechocobunny.blogspot.com/2011/12/honeymoon-pt-1-momofuku.html">Momofuku</a>, that I absolutely wanted to visit: <b>Prune</b>.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHJ5RIqRgjWrpTqAvhT9OkXRTWKWt5WLiQNxqQkHjrNrzVADChnSH9Cmp3Adbrhsd78itX2g53x8MedFFMmQpyvc1390pmKwTGqrTSE2ZreK1l1-jpYE1gv_T3q7_mmhYnWv4Wssu_aoY/s1600/DSC_4542.jpg"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHJ5RIqRgjWrpTqAvhT9OkXRTWKWt5WLiQNxqQkHjrNrzVADChnSH9Cmp3Adbrhsd78itX2g53x8MedFFMmQpyvc1390pmKwTGqrTSE2ZreK1l1-jpYE1gv_T3q7_mmhYnWv4Wssu_aoY/s400/DSC_4542.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5699045551664902146" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>It started, as it often does for me, with a book.</b> Having read stratospheric praise for Gabrielle Hamilton's memoir <i><a href="http://bloodbonesandbutter.net/">Blood, Bones, & Butter</a></i>, I bought it soon after if came out. I’ll review it in my next post, but for now, suffice it to say that I absolutely loved it. I was dying to know what kind of food was made by the woman who had written this book. So, the day after we arrived in NYC, I dragged Laurent to the East Village for lunch, where we got lost and wandered around for a while before finally locating the tiny restaurant. As we examined the bright room, with its fuschia barstools and old mirrors, I couldn’t help but think of Hamilton’s description of the place when she first saw it: abandoned, cockroach-infested, covered in rat droppings, and packed with rotting food. I promptly put the passage out of my mind, as the place bore no remaining trace of its former filth, and who wants to be thinking about rat poop right before a meal?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp8emC9vM-R0evZbwKUOebuLr1jluBKupUnEjnm9XkNesnzeK4uIvN3j6K4JMvsJxnKRGWVTQlyky98HG2DFoaJ7dS193FNW3QZFZmPml8O_iDTJyp63FbnOqC4NLlVGCpAZkKfckdTy0/s1600/DSC_4539.jpg"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp8emC9vM-R0evZbwKUOebuLr1jluBKupUnEjnm9XkNesnzeK4uIvN3j6K4JMvsJxnKRGWVTQlyky98HG2DFoaJ7dS193FNW3QZFZmPml8O_iDTJyp63FbnOqC4NLlVGCpAZkKfckdTy0/s400/DSC_4539.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5699043279909879154" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I want to take a minute here to describe my state of mind on that first visit. It was a warm, sunny October day. There was a light breeze. I was wearing my favourite black polka dot skirt, the one that swishes around my legs in a way that makes me feel like a girl. And I was just married, and honeymooning in one of my favourite cities in the world. Most likely all these wonderful things influenced how I perceived my meal. But I’m thinking the food had something to do with it, too.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDB3l5XNIxZgoia3uJN6fl9iu7vRytRJ8JpLgZCI5UAxK8JgO6dr4pW9lpEEWMXyPBQUkAwY9YGa4aqzc9ZjiZ7OMzTC2hEDl-T8rZK_dCuoB_ogR4WV9pbumCslFKlrrrh0cXb64bXyU/s1600/DSC_4536.jpg"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDB3l5XNIxZgoia3uJN6fl9iu7vRytRJ8JpLgZCI5UAxK8JgO6dr4pW9lpEEWMXyPBQUkAwY9YGa4aqzc9ZjiZ7OMzTC2hEDl-T8rZK_dCuoB_ogR4WV9pbumCslFKlrrrh0cXb64bXyU/s400/DSC_4536.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5699043273972543778" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I confess, I didn’t even take pictures that first time. I didn’t feel like being a food blogger, I just wanted to enjoy myself. Descriptions of the dishes probably won’t do them justice, because they were so very simple. For starters, we split a half-avocado filled with olive oil and sprinkled with Maldon salt. Was it something anyone could have whipped up at home? Sure. But the avocado was perfectly ripe, and the olive oil was fragrant. Next, I had a shaved celery salad with a thick slice of blue cheese on the side, while Laurent had a coddled egg with wild mushrooms. Again, nothing fancy. But everything was just right, from my salad’s vinaigrette to the texture of Laurent’s egg. <b>I could feel the love in the food</b>, and that’s not something that happens very often.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5dMym47bV46hod9zSXqUeBOPe72pS_NRex-_1C4_fI4KPR6WlN__tMrpVMDlKhSJulDsLG-5fYXJtqxcbSPZbJiER5nKERi8xTAlRaWgBMfb_thFxRpQv4NYfIvU16V9bvLopWu1V3UM/s1600/DSC_4528.jpg"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 249px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5dMym47bV46hod9zSXqUeBOPe72pS_NRex-_1C4_fI4KPR6WlN__tMrpVMDlKhSJulDsLG-5fYXJtqxcbSPZbJiER5nKERi8xTAlRaWgBMfb_thFxRpQv4NYfIvU16V9bvLopWu1V3UM/s400/DSC_4528.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5699043263151170290" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">We ended up coming back for lunch again a few days later. This time, we took pictures. Also, we were hungrier, so we ordered more food. We started with a <b>chicken noodle soup with cracklings and matzo balls</b>, which was fragrant and warming.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6_UWf_d_eaqu7ONvUTpJK-A1j0p9in_OslpP7-RKNLZcAqlBbDdMsdpaHnlsTkroopdXSFRSNidjALhHPY95DyQ4rKL33aD8Zr-XYGNk0DlsS1X067j6RtKw5IiD7xeJhDnJNTTMW4V4/s1600/DSC_5457.jpg"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6_UWf_d_eaqu7ONvUTpJK-A1j0p9in_OslpP7-RKNLZcAqlBbDdMsdpaHnlsTkroopdXSFRSNidjALhHPY95DyQ4rKL33aD8Zr-XYGNk0DlsS1X067j6RtKw5IiD7xeJhDnJNTTMW4V4/s400/DSC_5457.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5699043256202385186" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Next, I couldn’t resist ordering something which is mentioned in Hamilton’s book: an <b>egg-on-a-roll</b>. Apparently, she lived on these during her early years in the city, and I myself have eaten my share of these classic deli sandwiches. With crispy bacon, runny yolks, and a side of cold noodles, it was pure comfort food.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ96feZxPrZCWJ-KAn3JJzS7iBen2cA39BjwwFIX4opqf1L9IfL-WKFhoYqek_KjfDSdcAB_yxqG-beeBTUNP_3aIJsDfmItM3-LSAEuNfS0a0eFB2vG4Npp5XXEvQhOWR6yaK1s9HYuU/s1600/DSC_5462.jpg"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ96feZxPrZCWJ-KAn3JJzS7iBen2cA39BjwwFIX4opqf1L9IfL-WKFhoYqek_KjfDSdcAB_yxqG-beeBTUNP_3aIJsDfmItM3-LSAEuNfS0a0eFB2vG4Npp5XXEvQhOWR6yaK1s9HYuU/s400/DSC_5462.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5699041446280225762" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Laurent had a burger and fries. The meat was cooked rare, as requested, and was satisfyingly juicy.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUQnmur9h8t1EKAvFBwyIfnVuR-WBOdkew9Bo09cY3g1Lq-VJQO2vd2W-z59lDpkgHQpr4WrbF58P6NYnxXcYLVGy7IpSY-XlhDUPC7NLAkJQLGQr947jS3ohNwLRCOJYRvrjUDE1JZIo/s1600/DSC_5465.jpg"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUQnmur9h8t1EKAvFBwyIfnVuR-WBOdkew9Bo09cY3g1Lq-VJQO2vd2W-z59lDpkgHQpr4WrbF58P6NYnxXcYLVGy7IpSY-XlhDUPC7NLAkJQLGQr947jS3ohNwLRCOJYRvrjUDE1JZIo/s400/DSC_5465.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5699041438297435682" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Finally, we splurged on dessert: a poached peach with caramelized pecans and crème anglaise for Laurent, and fresh figs with lemon cream for me. Both were light and nicely cleansed our palates, but Laurent’s choice won, I have to admit.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1aDC8kFvNuS_iNVGe_EdPOTVlicbVE4dJr8kpypvGFKjITrwjBzLNgSnbKhdhCLDihgBZptoEEbxJmDdTh13Q4h0nuMN1r9CAxYmlZazUZkrqimRr4Oyk2nFkergfuSDbP0CEYNaSXGU/s1600/DSC_5471.jpg"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1aDC8kFvNuS_iNVGe_EdPOTVlicbVE4dJr8kpypvGFKjITrwjBzLNgSnbKhdhCLDihgBZptoEEbxJmDdTh13Q4h0nuMN1r9CAxYmlZazUZkrqimRr4Oyk2nFkergfuSDbP0CEYNaSXGU/s400/DSC_5471.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5699041426030505042" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHIjLFK1Yi7mSoQaH5gFlUxWAkDTKm-TYozO8vW5fjX6siM4SZ2_zqW7iJeYeBMSA371L9T8DIlfTfhE8Lj2zJelNpuOc-7FbQ8jscRMEwFx2-2MgZQ3X8eVIomDQ4NsTHPcijPgADIbQ/s1600/DSC_5476.jpg"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHIjLFK1Yi7mSoQaH5gFlUxWAkDTKm-TYozO8vW5fjX6siM4SZ2_zqW7iJeYeBMSA371L9T8DIlfTfhE8Lj2zJelNpuOc-7FbQ8jscRMEwFx2-2MgZQ3X8eVIomDQ4NsTHPcijPgADIbQ/s400/DSC_5476.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5699041413957819186" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Was this a pure act of fangirlism? Probably. Then again, so was our trip to Momofuku. But in both cases, the quality of the food spoke for itself, despite the absence of frills. Sometimes, you have to put cynicism aside and just recognize that there are cases where a good reputation is well deserved.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1942058980138707983.post-19793247902175060712012-01-14T13:24:00.003-05:002012-01-14T13:36:27.775-05:00Daring Cooks' January Challenge - Tamales<div style="text-align: justify;"><b><i>Maranda of Jolts & Jollies was our January 2012 Daring Cooks hostess with the mostess! Maranda challenged us to make traditional Mexican Tamales as our first challenge of the year!</i></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">You may have noticed I skipped out on the last couple of Daring Kitchen challenges. Up until then, I had only skipped one challenge (the croquembouche one, which I still intend to make someday). But toward the end of 2011, there was just too much going on, and I was barely cooking at all. However, with the new year, I was ready to get back on track and get back to the kitchen.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I’ll just announce is right now so that you won’t be shocked when you get to the end of this post: <b>it was a disaster.</b> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I love Mexican food, but had never eaten, let alone made <b>tamales</b>. I wasn’t even sure what they were. Basically, they consist of a filling wrapped inside a corn flour dough, which is itself wrapped inside a rehydrated corn husk, then steamed. Sounded easy enough.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIVgsha_zh3lW-VyhxXKLyrgIVVk7kPy-ozsApp1h2mDyHNFVRDa1GeigUzU2N0IA3cemISCEVBC_IYCxxvxUrbrkxmZezWlelULLXC_bKDsbm5pwEacKDWlcHnOdYQeBjcW-XpIMN82w/s1600/DSC_6935.JPG"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIVgsha_zh3lW-VyhxXKLyrgIVVk7kPy-ozsApp1h2mDyHNFVRDa1GeigUzU2N0IA3cemISCEVBC_IYCxxvxUrbrkxmZezWlelULLXC_bKDsbm5pwEacKDWlcHnOdYQeBjcW-XpIMN82w/s400/DSC_6935.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5697555904283723746" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Up until two weeks ago, I had a pack of <b>corn husks</b> in my pantry, purchased on a whim at a Mexican grocery store, in one of those “Oooh, I wonder what I could do with this?” moments. They had lingered there for months, until I was seized by a rabid need to clean up the clutter that had seemingly taken over every shelf, cupboard, and drawer of the apartment, and began moving stuff around and clearing out spaces. In my enthusiasm, I chucked out the corn husks, in one of those “The hell with it, I’m never going to use this” moments. It figures that this month’s challenge called for corn husks.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Too lazy to go out and buy a new package, I decided to use <b>parchment paper</b> instead. In that same spirit of laziness, I opted for the proposed <b>vegan filling</b>, even though I made the very non-vegan lard-infused dough. Assembling the tamales was easy enough, and I used my Asian bamboo baskets for the steaming.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But when the tamales were cooked, I tasted a tiny piece of the dough, and decided I didn’t care for it much. Something about the texture, the way it came apart, and also something about the flavour... Keep in mind that I had never had tamales before, and therefore had no reference. I only knew that I wasn’t wild about what I had made. While doing some research (even when I’m lazy, I still do research, because I am a flaming geek), I found that <b>some people liked to reheat their tamales by frying them</b>. In my book, frying makes everything better, and crispy seemed like a better option than the crumbly, wet-yet-dry texture I had obtained. Into the oiled skillet they went.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Having lovingly stacked and photographed the tamales, Laurent and I dug in. Then stopped. Then looked at each other.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">“I’ll make us something else,” I said matter-of-factly, and got up to look for those homemade gyoza I knew were in the freezer.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I now knew what the problem was. It wasn’t the recipe, it wasn’t even my technique. <b>My masa (corn) mix had gone bad. </b>It gave off that horrible stale, bitter, rancid aftertaste. It’s strange, because I made corn tortillas not that long ago, and they were fine; it’s hard to imagine the mix could have gone so bad so quickly. I should have noticed it while making the dough, the smell should have tipped me off. For some reason, it hadn’t. At the very least, I should have noticed it when tasting the dough right out of the steamer, but maybe the steam had temporarily masked the taste. Or maybe I was just distracted.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">While I was cooking the gyoza, Laurent had fun salvaging the filling by picking it out of the tamales. He even took pictures.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqvrFBpvkP69IovTDB-I80tSvAokhUEUYg3qwT7KhOpLtdXvfAoNUODxqPgxLcwQz8cEnrxFsGXH3UdSIVsO7xez97w_9bwy05OiiSVA314ByNhyphenhyphenBLvF5DqfMZgFStxETY7G_S1d9oKy4/s1600/DSC_6948.JPG"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqvrFBpvkP69IovTDB-I80tSvAokhUEUYg3qwT7KhOpLtdXvfAoNUODxqPgxLcwQz8cEnrxFsGXH3UdSIVsO7xez97w_9bwy05OiiSVA314ByNhyphenhyphenBLvF5DqfMZgFStxETY7G_S1d9oKy4/s400/DSC_6948.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5697555889696589362" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So, not a particularly glorious start to the year. Obviously, this was completely my fault. But I think I’m going to order tamales from a restaurant before attempting to make them again. And, obviously, I’m going to buy a new bag of masa mix.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">My thanks to Maranda for a great challenge idea, and my apologies for screwing it up so badly. If you want to look at real tamales, please look at <a href="http://thedaringkitchen.com/blogroll/cooks">the Daring Cooks’ blog roll</a>. And if you want to make your own, check out <a href="http://thedaringkitchen.com/recipe/tamales">the challenge recipes</a>. Just make sure your masa mix is fresh.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1942058980138707983.post-45068880659164044152012-01-05T14:44:00.003-05:002012-01-05T14:56:17.102-05:00Happy New Year - Schmaltz, Gribenes, and Almost Kosher Chowder<b>Happy New Year to you all!</b> I hope you celebrated to your heart's content! Me, well... We were supposed to go out into the countryside, <a href="http://thechocobunny.blogspot.com/2011/01/new-years-feast-seafood-spoons.html">like last year</a>, but I got sick. Nothing serious, but I was not up to frolicking in the snow, or even driving over to the chalet. So we just stayed in, and Laurent made us <b>cacio e pepe spaghetti </b>for dinner - not quite typical for a New Year's feast, but it was exactly the comfort food I needed.<br /><br />My cold took a long time to heal, but yesterday I was finally up to cooking. Again, I veered toward comfort food, and made <b>chowder</b>. However, once again, it wasn't quite traditional.<br /><br />I call this chowder "almost kosher" because it contains no pork. It does, however, contain dairy and chicken, so the title of fully kosher is out the window. But that doesn't really matter, since there is not an ounce of Jewish blood in me. So why did I substitute the pork? Simply because I had a lot of <b>schmaltz </b>to use.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyFmQSry3rrAJZ2OScPW9BaqhDnF4lKft1QokeXTrLhvWcoIgbSwp6O1vwqJkpfAh1rH-tTal8-dqhYOiupAc-gp_0tqifBAeH8Q7ZTOEPyBO-t-DQ8XqhtX6ZesMOdoJmN48xqScwl_c/s1600/DSC_6707.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyFmQSry3rrAJZ2OScPW9BaqhDnF4lKft1QokeXTrLhvWcoIgbSwp6O1vwqJkpfAh1rH-tTal8-dqhYOiupAc-gp_0tqifBAeH8Q7ZTOEPyBO-t-DQ8XqhtX6ZesMOdoJmN48xqScwl_c/s400/DSC_6707.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5694236737989521314" /></a><br />(One needs to be very careful when opening what looks like a jar of jam in our house, because they usually contain something else.)<br /><br />Why did I have schmaltz on hand? Well, it all started several month's ago, when I read David Sax's <i><a href="http://www.savethedeli.com/">Save the Deli</a></i>. I'll post more extensively about this book later, but suffice it to say the author went on a North American tour of Jewish delis, ate a heck of a lot of pastrami and chicken soup, and schmaltz is inevitably mentioned on every other page. Schmaltz, you're probably aware, is rendered chicken fat, and can replace most oils and fats in cooking. I was intrigued by how this influenced the taste of preparations; duck fat makes a big difference, so what of schmaltz?<br /><br />Unfortunately, I had no idea where to find schmaltz. But since we were already regularly buying whole chickens, boning them, and saving the carcasses to make stock, I took it one step further, and started putting aside all the chicken skin and fat, and saving it in a Ziploc bag in the freezer. Then, when the bag was full, and I had over three pounds of fatty scraps, I rendered it, using the method indicated in Jennifer MacLagan's <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Fat-Appreciation-Misunderstood-Ingredient-Recipes/dp/1580089356">Fat</a></i>. Thus, I ended up with two full cups of beautiful schmaltz, and a cup full of <b>gribenes</b>, which are basically <b>chicken cracklings</b>: the crispy bits of skin left over from the rendering process. I usually don't eat the skin off roast chicken, but this was something else: so crispy and delicious! We put them in soups, salads, and even just nibbled on them.<br /><br />So, the gribenes were easy to dispose of, but for some reason we've been slow to use the schmaltz. Like I said, it can replace butter in most recipes, but we were so overloaded with leftovers (ours and other people's) that we didn't cook for several days. And when we did, they weren't really the kind of recipes where the substitution would be made.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGjZfp0PmzTnVyg1kLnSgXg5fdEjhrfxCq8RU1b5Sjn2SbzVufDAje1sTtlc0LeSPZlYY1LwwAC787ZEmIc6rEasBxeTRnM1XNfB1qvdowj9-vR1VxrLrvDqvuPNbaaleKvGvCODRRZ-c/s1600/DSC_6684.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 314px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGjZfp0PmzTnVyg1kLnSgXg5fdEjhrfxCq8RU1b5Sjn2SbzVufDAje1sTtlc0LeSPZlYY1LwwAC787ZEmIc6rEasBxeTRnM1XNfB1qvdowj9-vR1VxrLrvDqvuPNbaaleKvGvCODRRZ-c/s400/DSC_6684.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5694236726242704050" /></a><br />So when I decided to make chowder, I was determined to use the stuff. I drew inspiration from a recipe by Jamie Oliver, but used schmaltz instead of pork fat, and the remaining gribenes instead of bacon. I also adapted the broth-to-dairy ratio. Obviously fresh corn would have been best, but in this season, canned corn had to do. And I used <b>Nordic shrimp</b>, for a local touch.<br /><br />There was definitely a subtle difference in flavour: less smoky than if I had used bacon, but still more gamey than if I had used butter. I wouldn't say any version is flat-out better than the others, but it's nice to have options. Either way, this soup is a very flavourful and easy meal for a lazy weekday.<br /><br /><br /><b>Schmaltz and Gribenes</b><br /><br />450 g (1 pound) or more of chicken fat and skin<br /><br />Cut the chicken skin in small pieces. Place them in a heavy-bottomed pan over low heat, and let the fat melt, stirring occasionally, until the skin begins to grow crispy. This can take several hours (between two and four).<br /><br />Alternately, if you are rendering a large amount of fat, put the chicken skin in a Dutch oven and place in an oven preheated to 120ºC (250ºF). Bake until skin begins to grow crispy, which will take several hours.<br /><br />In both cases, when the skin is just getting crispy and brown, drain out the rendered fat and strain it through a cheesecloth into a heatproof container. Return the skin to the pan and cook over medium low heat until it is very crispy golden brown. Strain the remaining fat through the cheesecloth, and place the skin on paper towels to absorb the fat.<br /><br />Store the schmaltz in a clean airtight container in the fridge for up to two weeks. Store the gribenes similarly, and consume them within a couple of days. You should obtain approximately 1 cup of schmaltz for every pound (450g) of chicken skin.<br /><br /><br /><br /><b>Almost Kosher Chowder</b><br /><i>Adapted from </i><a href="http://www.amazon.ca/Jamies-Food-Revolution-Rediscover-Affordable/dp/1401323596">Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution</a><br /><br /><i>Serves 4-6</i><br /><br />2 tbsp schmaltz<br />One leek, cut in half lengthwise and sliced crosswise<br />450g (1 pound) of potatoes (approximately 3 large), peeled and cubed<br />500 ml (2 cups) chicken or vegetable broth<br />500 ml (2 cups) milk<br />375 ml (1 1/2 cup) canned or frozen corn<br />225 g (1/2 pound) Nordic shrimp, fresh or frozen and thawed<br />250 ml (1 cup) heavy cream<br /><br /><i>For garnish:</i><br />Gribenes<br />Fresh dill<br />Fresh red chili pepper, seeded and chopped<br /><br /><br />In a large saucepan, melt the schmaltz over medium heat. Add the leek and potatoes, and cook, stirring often, until leek is soft. Add the broth and milk, along with the shrimp and corn, and simmer for 10 minutes, until potatoes are tender and soup is somewhat thickened. Reduce heat, stir in the cream, and continue cooking until heated through.<br /><br />Divide in bowls and top with garnish just before serving.<br /><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1942058980138707983.post-67095398490518232162011-12-24T15:58:00.005-05:002011-12-24T16:14:34.496-05:00Merry Christmas! - Orange Lard Cookies<div style="text-align: justify;"><i><b>Whoosh!</b></i> Christmas rather caught me by surprise this year. Maybe it's the lack of snow, but it took me longer than usual to get into the spirit of things. And yet, with just a few hours to go till Christmas Eve officially starts, everything seems to be on track: <b>the tree is trimmed, the gifts are wrapped, and I've got bread baking in the oven.</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">As usual when we stay in Montreal, we're spending Christmas Eve with Laurent's parents. They always invite quite a crowd over, and there's always a mountain of food, prepared by Laurent's father. This year, however, I wanted to contribute in some way. I thought about something I can make that no one else around me does; and it had to be something appropriate for an Italian Christmas, so Asian food was out. So I settled on bread. Bread isn't an essential part of supper, but I find homemade bread always adds a nice touch.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So I spent part of today making two kinds of bread from <a href="http://www.amazon.ca/PASSION-BAKING-BAKE-CELEBRATE-NOURISH/dp/">my favourite Marcy Goldman book</a>: <b>pull-apart buttery rolls</b>, <a href="http://thechocobunny.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-did-it-again-butter-dipped-cloverleaf.html">which I have made before</a>, and <b>buttermilk biscuits</b>. They're almost ready, so perhaps I'll snap a picture and add it to the end of this post.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I haven't done much holiday baking this year. I did make gingerbread men, for the very first time, and am quite pleased with the flavour, although I may have overbaked them a bit. And I made<b> lard cookies</b>.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjPzzmIU1MXk8CVOnQiQCzIRX7KPoD_ngiKUX8-Xubti1chTNKxII59tac2KUHu-oU59cy3cGggab7lxfmpbGFVZIgjyueDwH5eMM8SZN5ZKyZArg3Tb_TzDx5sh0K7q2Ucsbne-xaf6Y/s1600/DSC_6220.jpg"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 370px; height: 400px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjPzzmIU1MXk8CVOnQiQCzIRX7KPoD_ngiKUX8-Xubti1chTNKxII59tac2KUHu-oU59cy3cGggab7lxfmpbGFVZIgjyueDwH5eMM8SZN5ZKyZArg3Tb_TzDx5sh0K7q2Ucsbne-xaf6Y/s400/DSC_6220.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5689804060392441458" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I'm quite into Jennifer McLagan's cookbooks at the moment. As you may know, she's been specializing in unpopular foods for several years: <i><a href="http://www.amazon.ca/Bones-Recipes-History-Jennifer-McLagan/dp/0060585374/ref=pd_bxgy_b_img_b">Bones</a></i> (or rather, cooking on the bone), <i><a href="http://www.amazon.ca/Fat-Appreciation-Misunderstood-Ingredient-Recipes/dp/0771055773/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1324761068&sr=8-1">Fat</a></i>, and, most recently, <i><a href="http://www.amazon.ca/Odd-Bits-Jennifer-McLagan/dp/155468756X/ref=pd_bxgy_b_img_c">Odd Bits</a></i> (not just offal, but generally all the parts of the animal people tend to not use anymore). While flipping through <i>Fat</i>, I came upon a recipe for Spanish-style lard cookies, and decided to give it a try. I'd never cooked with lard before, and was even very surprised to discover how available it is, found in the pastry aisle at most supermarkets - too bad, I was already having visions of rendering pork fat.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The cookies were as simple to make as cookies can be. I substituted orange liqueur for brandy, as I don't keep the latter in the house. Honestly, I'd be prepared to be that no one, save an expert baker, would ever guess that these cookies were lard-based: you can't taste it at all. But it apparently gives a unique texture, and while I would have to make a butter version to compare and really determine the difference, I'd describe the ones I made as <b>crispy, but not brittle or hard, and not sandy either</b>. Not sure this description is very useful, but I would definitely make these again.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9FCpy87YlT2ALYCrimdOLj49IMSjdhdXM6bWtuGd8DPfCtI66ATqYoDL3BeIMkHXCM5wIRaioTwMal_fS2EWUBCDHvqNfoqoL2B-mUPteCt0tAXL0lN9pO9LE1ZoajYQ_FTLhfqQUuXg/s1600/DSC_6255.JPG"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9FCpy87YlT2ALYCrimdOLj49IMSjdhdXM6bWtuGd8DPfCtI66ATqYoDL3BeIMkHXCM5wIRaioTwMal_fS2EWUBCDHvqNfoqoL2B-mUPteCt0tAXL0lN9pO9LE1ZoajYQ_FTLhfqQUuXg/s400/DSC_6255.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5689804052333193954" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Oooh, look at that, my bread is ready!</b> The biscuits taste good, but to be honest they're rather unattractive. Oh well. The pull-apart rolls, on the other hand, look fabulous. (Sorry for the saturated pics, I'm in a hurry.)</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzkrQZSy7Vri5Sm88J-p7VWiRQecjK3RtdZPQEInVu6_SjLZ2LVkzxJINMRp-iVIyeGdKMEjBNNPsBep4-Yqyk6rGGMuD0a4fIMbIBEcoGvo_Y8TjpKhk9m71c9RFTB5uIOsmhtzP2U7o/s1600/DSC_6247.JPG"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzkrQZSy7Vri5Sm88J-p7VWiRQecjK3RtdZPQEInVu6_SjLZ2LVkzxJINMRp-iVIyeGdKMEjBNNPsBep4-Yqyk6rGGMuD0a4fIMbIBEcoGvo_Y8TjpKhk9m71c9RFTB5uIOsmhtzP2U7o/s400/DSC_6247.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5689804048613795378" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to everyone!</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Orange-flavoured Lard Cookies</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Slightly adapted from Jennifer McLagan's <i><a href="http://www.amazon.ca/Fat-Appreciation-Misunderstood-Ingredient-Recipes/dp/0771055773/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1324761068&sr=8-1">Fat</a></i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i>Yields around 20 cookies</i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">125g (4.2 oz, 6/8 cup) all-purpose flour</div><div style="text-align: justify;">60g (2 oz, 1/2 cup) almond flour</div><div style="text-align: justify;">100g (3.5 oz 1/2 cup) granulated sugar</div><div style="text-align: justify;">2 tsp ground cinnamon</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Pinch of salt</div><div style="text-align: justify;">100g (1/2 cup, 3.5 oz) lard, diced, at room temperature</div><div style="text-align: justify;">1 whole egg</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Zest of one orange, finely grated</div><div style="text-align: justify;">1 tbsp orange liqueur (Cointreau or Triple Sec)</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Icing sugar, for dusting</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Preheat oven to 180ºC (350ºF). Line baking sheets with parchment paper.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Mix the flour and almond flour together in a mixing bowl, then spread them on a baking sheet in an even layer. Roast them in the over, stirring occasionally, until they are fragrant and just beginning to brown. Remove from the oven and let cool completely.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Lower the oven to 150ºF (300ºF).</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Put the cooled flour and almond mixture in a large mixing bowl, stir in the sugar, cinnamon, and salt. Add the lard and work it into the flour mixture with a wooden spoon or dough whisk, to obtain a homogenous mixture. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In a smaller bowl, whisk together the egg, orange zest, and liqueur. Incorporate this mixture into the flour and lard mixture, and stir to obtain a soft dough.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Take tablespoonfuls of dough, form them into balls, and place them on the prepared baking sheets, about 4 cm (1 1/2 inches) apart, and slightly flatten them with the palm of your hand. Bake until firm to the tough and slightly browned on the bottom, about 30 minutes.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Transfer the cookies to a wire rack and cool completely. Dust with icing sugar and store in an airtight container for up to one week.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1942058980138707983.post-11223881352038680602011-12-06T16:59:00.006-05:002011-12-06T17:22:02.779-05:00The Honeymoon, pt 1 - Momofuku<div style="text-align: justify;">Okay, boys and girls, let's get back on track! It's been an emotional and disorienting couple of weeks, as I have been without a computer: <b>my laptop got stolen</b>. I was at a café with my friends and took out my computer to show them my wedding pictures, which I had finally received. Then I put it back in my bag, which was on the floor right next to me. When I got up to leave, my bag was open and the laptop was gone. The amazing thing is that one of my friends was sitting right opposite me, and she didn't see a thing. Apparently this sort of thing happens a lot in the neighbourhood, with professional thieves preying on students. The worst part is, I practically never bring my laptop to work in cafés, there's too much noise and I'm always scared I'm going to spill something on it. It really was rotten luck...</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Anyways, after the first twenty minutes of hyperventilating and being paralyzed by the sheer effort of wrapping my mind around what had happened, while my awesome friends took action on my part and talked to the staff and surrounding customers, after a weepy call to Laurent and a trip to the police station to report the theft, after a couple of days of feeling blue, and finally after taking advantage of Black Friday sales to order a new laptop (a fine piece of hardware which I'm typing this on), I started putting the incident behind me. Fortunately, I had backed up most of my important documents (including the wedding pics and my thesis), so there was no big personal loss. The thought of someone going through my data made me feel sick, but I knew the thieves would most likely be interested in the hardware, not my vacations photos or articles on Japanese pop culture...</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">And then, a few days ago, I got a call from the police informing me <b>my laptop had been found!</b> I'm picking it up tomorrow. Apparently, it's still in one piece, but they haven't tried to open it, so I don't know if the hard drive has already been wiped or not. Fingers crossed... But honestly, given that less than one in ten stolen laptops is recovered, I wasn't expecting mine to ever be found, so I'm happy either way. The good luck has balanced out the bad!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The moral of the story: always report stolen items, you never know.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>So, on with our regular programming.</b> Well, not that regular, as today's post is the first part of the <i>Honeymoon Chronicles</i>. Laurent and I couldn't get away for very long, so we decided to just spend a few days in <b>New York</b>. I grew up there, and Laurent has never really visited the city, so I was looking forward to showing him around. We had a wonderful time. I showed him the classics (the view from the Staten Island Ferry, Time Square, etc.), and also some places which were more personal to me (my old school, specific spots in Central Park). Over the course of five days, we pretty much covered the list of places I had compiled in my head.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">My list of restaurants, however, was comparatively shorter. I was just a kid when I lived in NY, and fresh from Europe. At the age of five, I was impressed by things like grape juice, deli sandwiches, pizza, hot dogs, and frozen yogurt, most of which I had never tasted. Then we discovered ethnic takeout, especially Indian and Mexican food, which was not really available in Belgium at the time. My parents took me to a few restaurants, but I can't say I recall whether they really were good, or just conveniently close; and anyway, they've probably been closed for years. My parents lived in New York again several years ago, but none of us, myself included, really kept track of the food scene. No particular place stood out in my memory.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEFMbooCB3hb24W_Pi7EjDAypT3wNa9LBz7DTSP47XLLHP-wIRgyYWjIi-lMjnDdybz_Jr3Nmjn2-gwaD63h72V1Bby4xcK9SPKEdAGp9IGyZJnLj98_-ckOewP3viVA7T7tSptPvec58/s1600/DSC_4291.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEFMbooCB3hb24W_Pi7EjDAypT3wNa9LBz7DTSP47XLLHP-wIRgyYWjIi-lMjnDdybz_Jr3Nmjn2-gwaD63h72V1Bby4xcK9SPKEdAGp9IGyZJnLj98_-ckOewP3viVA7T7tSptPvec58/s400/DSC_4291.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683141444993814210" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Our hotel was conveniently located near a <a href="http://www.lepainquotidien.us/">Pain Quotidien</a>, a chain I was familiar with, so Laurent and I often had lunch or breakfast there. It's ironic, because Le Pain Quotidien is actually a Belgian concept, so it kind of felt like eating, say, McDonald's in Tokyo. Except that Le Pain Quotidien is a million times tastier and healthier than McDonald's (and more expensive, unfortunately, but hey, we were on our honeymoon), and the setting is a billion times more attractive, with its wooden hues and cute little spreads. Besides, I have to admit I never feel bad about eating "foreign" food in North America, probably because immigrant cultures are such a huge part of this continent, and hence the concept of "local cuisine" has always seemed a lot looser here than it does in other regions.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGfY25iMyWk0TODwT7S34iYPQDTBV8TvLZ8kS2GNGqq2fpcvMog5ZMSulxq1kaNnr8SFmk_PeJ18X7G9yYnazGYI-eBYqx6nTXTNQpTKCJ9tTA1HDnDR7R8rxqinU7ZCJs5Gkbd-12ecM/s1600/DSC_4294.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGfY25iMyWk0TODwT7S34iYPQDTBV8TvLZ8kS2GNGqq2fpcvMog5ZMSulxq1kaNnr8SFmk_PeJ18X7G9yYnazGYI-eBYqx6nTXTNQpTKCJ9tTA1HDnDR7R8rxqinU7ZCJs5Gkbd-12ecM/s400/DSC_4294.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683141435932369010" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Even though I don't really know much about the current New York restaurant scene, there was one place I knew we had to visit: <a href="http://www.momofuku.com/restaurants/noodle-bar/">Momofuku Noodle Bar</a>. Back when I was making David Chang's ramen <a href="http://thechocobunny.blogspot.com/2011/08/totally-worth-it-momofuku-ramen-or.html">a few months ago</a>, I took the time to read the non-recipe parts of the book, specifically how the restaurant came to be. I liked how things apparently really kicked off when the chefs decided to stop trying to be "authentic" and just started to make whatever they wanted, according to the seasons and their own whims. And the ramen I had whipped up in my kitchen had been really very good, so I could only imagine how great the real thing would be.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE_-vVzPCrtAsoLbKs_TYF_dBiVDpWogrGChgWKRd2AjEay2qpR1BaEBu3YYFH6toJD3mR2X7p1NYAplR6iyoFmB2ryqTz9XJQIM0mceij3JZMjiAYqi4TZNuEYXulwqwwz3LFHPeElZY/s1600/DSC_4793.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE_-vVzPCrtAsoLbKs_TYF_dBiVDpWogrGChgWKRd2AjEay2qpR1BaEBu3YYFH6toJD3mR2X7p1NYAplR6iyoFmB2ryqTz9XJQIM0mceij3JZMjiAYqi4TZNuEYXulwqwwz3LFHPeElZY/s400/DSC_4793.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683141430538454242" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">If we could get in, that is... I knew the place was hugely popular but not correspondingly huge, and fully expected to find people lined up in front. Which we did. I asked the hostess how long the wait would be for two people, prepared to wait for over an hour if need be (I've done it for Kazu on more than one occasion), and nearly fell over when she answered that she could seat us right away. And smack in the middle of the counter, no less! Luck of the newlyweds!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieo-T_XXhRkldpTj5CGB05lJuleX-YBoNUSEU1ksPfCV5Ksm2G7zt_fC1H7mS4j_kL6C4CisEUKmf0PwWIHvF0j77gMVEqAS_7FqdFq2JnbFIbYbV77D8VCcMuT4_eUGgrF2dttozxzdk/s1600/DSC_4772.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieo-T_XXhRkldpTj5CGB05lJuleX-YBoNUSEU1ksPfCV5Ksm2G7zt_fC1H7mS4j_kL6C4CisEUKmf0PwWIHvF0j77gMVEqAS_7FqdFq2JnbFIbYbV77D8VCcMuT4_eUGgrF2dttozxzdk/s400/DSC_4772.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683140460529969842" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">We started off with some <b>shiitake buns</b>. They were great, with very salty mushrooms, soft steamed buns, and crunch pickles.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgog-1UuRr-QueAjEHRJlE3rA4Un7xjgI9SM2BmWRrgqoA5OGv2MbjiECfdPPZScM64roIyVa4r1JwVvGe-S1RUOsrBoQMmTMsfgEJ8-ARK718s_2bw20bcPh_u1ecGav4Fy79c5K6PA5w/s1600/DSC_4765.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgog-1UuRr-QueAjEHRJlE3rA4Un7xjgI9SM2BmWRrgqoA5OGv2MbjiECfdPPZScM64roIyVa4r1JwVvGe-S1RUOsrBoQMmTMsfgEJ8-ARK718s_2bw20bcPh_u1ecGav4Fy79c5K6PA5w/s400/DSC_4765.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683140453580899106" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibShEZXPuh-7R_Ef5mca_UW4F4dg7GAb6Mh-P7Mer9sLD2AYDCdd9cuUftGkRujCULrl0bExCPlMr6p77BoDnWi9eUdQntztBNu2sWdYdvJQ6iHBW8WQCMEU_WGtIT8MoR_PSjtxa7AO8/s1600/DSC_4768.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibShEZXPuh-7R_Ef5mca_UW4F4dg7GAb6Mh-P7Mer9sLD2AYDCdd9cuUftGkRujCULrl0bExCPlMr6p77BoDnWi9eUdQntztBNu2sWdYdvJQ6iHBW8WQCMEU_WGtIT8MoR_PSjtxa7AO8/s400/DSC_4768.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683140445928392290" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But the real treat was watching the cooks prepping bowl after bowl of ramen. These guys were maintaining a serious rhythm!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhraFiZkeD6iTvGkyM1E9dytxa2T1uahSy54jN5gwLji6I-dM5W7C-llyIkzThpuAS-xUpB-Y3bF2FuCaOhWqaisAcwqvvgxpAp_yOX5oQ8ZTY6yqSZF4aHDBg5cC42SflWHs-vPL5SNXs/s400/DSC_4775.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683139531284452050" /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I ordered the shoyu (soy) ramen, while Laurent ordered a miso version. I knew Chang had recently changed his broth recipe, to make it more environmentally and economically friendly, which I can only applaud; he now makes the broth with only chicken bones, no more pork bones. The result was still very good, with strong umami and smokiness compensating for the lack of meatiness. The noodles were awesome, firm bordering on chewy, as far from limp, sissy noodles as you can get. The pork was tender and deliciously seasoned. But... I have to say this: how I wish I could have tasted the original version! I get that it uses a lot of meat and generates a lot of waste, but I was honestly blown away by what I managed to make myself with the old recipe, and have no doubt the served far superior bowls at Momofuku back then. This new version is definitely great, but the difference is nonetheless felt...</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib9cODTN3bHbhejRomEbNWGHHT7g2VDyckIte0HGllqFlvat5Q1mqrlO0vvRdo7NF6FxzikkV7TG36t-sujS9BGB_lhPyRBhO4zAoDPva0YzUley0lmfxf5aFFRAuI6W6QmRnxHCoRAIA/s1600/DSC_4780.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib9cODTN3bHbhejRomEbNWGHHT7g2VDyckIte0HGllqFlvat5Q1mqrlO0vvRdo7NF6FxzikkV7TG36t-sujS9BGB_lhPyRBhO4zAoDPva0YzUley0lmfxf5aFFRAuI6W6QmRnxHCoRAIA/s400/DSC_4780.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683139529379651778" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Laurent's miso ramen, however, was spectacular. Neither of us had anything bad to say about it: it was simply perfection, with ideally balanced flavours. It's right up there with the burnt miso ramen we had in Tokyo and have been fantasizing about ever since. Maybe we just have a special weakness for miso... But Jesus, it was good.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEUNJdQBbm-jWpAnwKepjYYNFk5Vtt1wowKEOzHsEekjZXWkhcl-EXy1PlsfaHgfE1NxBc-uNWt9MRqQP6zqcWA7GqfEqImWQVLfVpgYiP5y4RH3qUXmsv9LE4th59kCU96C_jOo3dfz0/s1600/DSC_4786.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEUNJdQBbm-jWpAnwKepjYYNFk5Vtt1wowKEOzHsEekjZXWkhcl-EXy1PlsfaHgfE1NxBc-uNWt9MRqQP6zqcWA7GqfEqImWQVLfVpgYiP5y4RH3qUXmsv9LE4th59kCU96C_jOo3dfz0/s400/DSC_4786.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683139523386577362" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So, that was one of the high culinary points of our trip. More to come!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1942058980138707983.post-27867139459445415712011-11-20T14:25:00.005-05:002011-11-20T14:42:59.183-05:00My kind of bachelorette event - A bread baking class at Mezza Luna<div style="text-align: justify;"><b>I’m back from the honeymoon!</b> Ok, I’ve actually been back for quite a while now… Getting back into real cooking, after a month of predictable standards and eating out (wedding preparations take up SO much time!), has taken some time, and I’ve been pretty busy with my thesis as well. I’ve even been taking a break from the Daring Kitchen, although I plan to get back into it next month.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Then I realized I have a lot of food-related stuff to write about that doesn’t involve cooking and recipes. I’ve never been an event blogger, and I very, very rarely write reviews about anything, but desperate times call for desperate measures! So let’s try something different for a few posts, to give me some time to build up my stock of recipes and photographs.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">If you’re eager to see wedding pictures, you’ll have to wait a bit. We have quite a few pics taken by our guests, but the official photographs will take a little longer to arrive. Besides, before we get to the wedding, we have the bachelorette party to deal with!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>My two bridesmaids and I have been friends since we were fifteen</b>. Ironically, I was the one who had moved around the most at the time, and I ended up being the only one to stay in Montreal all this time: both of the others ended up moving out of the country at different times. But we always kept in touch, and one of them eventually came back, while the other visits every now and then, and flew all the way from London just for the wedding.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">One thing these longtime friends of mine have probably figured out about me by now, is that <b>I am not really a party girl. </b>I’ve had my clubbing period, but I was never completely comfortable with it, and was mainly tagging along with the other. I’ve always had a lot more fun at house parties, and now that I’m more in the dinner party years (probably a little prematurely, but it suits me just fine), I’m completely in my element.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So I was pretty happy when my friends suggested <b>a daytime bachelorette party</b>. However, I was a little taken aback when they told me to <b>meet them at Jean-Talon Market at nine o’clock in the morning on a Sunday.</b> What on earth were they going to make me do? Give me a grocery list and make me cook them breakfast? Then they told me to bring a bathing suit, so I thought maybe we would be going to a spa.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Well, it turned out the bathing suit was just a red herring, and I wasn’t that far off the mark with my first guess. They didn’t exactly make me cook for them, but the activity involved cooking, more precisely baking: they took me to the <a href="http://www.ecolemezzaluna.ca/page/2/accueil?lang=en">Mezza Luna cooking school</a>, run by local chef Elena Faita (mother of cookbook author Stefano Faita), for <b>a bread baking class</b>.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3KlsPSMRx8T-n6n4zxVWGNwHbowEem2vVr9dh3dcvDDkutwNPSpPNL_uAKpQJxjcxJgwWgeNpIScHmLSH_k6xR_5mRzdj3c9elJGxV7acfMCb8mtiQtOGsWu_TstRJIat773YDF87rro/s1600/P1100094.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3KlsPSMRx8T-n6n4zxVWGNwHbowEem2vVr9dh3dcvDDkutwNPSpPNL_uAKpQJxjcxJgwWgeNpIScHmLSH_k6xR_5mRzdj3c9elJGxV7acfMCb8mtiQtOGsWu_TstRJIat773YDF87rro/s400/P1100094.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5677162881529980386" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">My apologies in advance for the uneven pics, but since I thought we were going to a spa, I hadn’t brought my camera, and the lighting wasn’t good enough for the point-and-shooter my friends had brought.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The class was led by "baker on the go" <a href="http://www.marcandrecyr.com/">Marc-André Cyr</a> (sous-chef at <a href="http://oliveetgourmando.com/">Olive + Gourmando</a>), and we covered three kinds of bread: <b>basic white, English muffins, and cranberry-ginger scones</b>. Now, longtime readers might be thinking: “But don’t you already know how to make bread?”. Indeed, but so did most of the other people attending. It’s one thing to read up on bread, and I do believe that bread is one of those things you can only perfect by rolling up your sleeves and just going for it as often as you can. But there are benefits to taking the occasional class, even if it’s only a demonstration. I definitely learned a few things.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMkEGPSXBdHCMaXMY8WKWrT1EQGXK2eolzoc-koKBWyR1qr82O_Yk0SaUZJ8PaQi7iy-1dRF8iR7AOjlVDseeB_Om4qkSSK480fVTRdiRKO8r_2bgsYdJ90JDDf78e8aAC2qbcUM_PQL0/s1600/P1100069.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMkEGPSXBdHCMaXMY8WKWrT1EQGXK2eolzoc-koKBWyR1qr82O_Yk0SaUZJ8PaQi7iy-1dRF8iR7AOjlVDseeB_Om4qkSSK480fVTRdiRKO8r_2bgsYdJ90JDDf78e8aAC2qbcUM_PQL0/s400/P1100069.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5677162439963096914" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">My friends pulled some strings (ok, one of them just got up and talked to Elena) and got me an authorization to get up there and touch the dough. I was amazed at how much <b>stickier </b>Marc-André’s dough was compared to the kind I usually end up with (with the exception of <a href="http://thechocobunny.blogspot.com/2011/02/tartine-bread-take-two.html">Chad Robertson’s bread</a>, where the dough is so wet you can’t properly knead it on a surface and have to keep it in a container). I was also surprised by how <b>gently </b>he handled the dough: I’ve always instinctively put my whole weight into kneading, whereas he just seemed to flip it around. It wasn’t easy, either: when I tried it myself, the dough kept sticking to the counter and tearing. It was mildly humbling, but I left with a pretty good idea of how to improve my breads. I also left with the recipes...</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL0eqvUukv18qLc_y23eLVnyjLkz_TSiDAvo3nukgIQfuHG6bjof-VBp9bYUHpJ6_g4aSbdbbg2dERv4UdGM4sxaMA-21ysy_nJ0HapS2Uzf21R_nPUUb7Y1re7qplQMYdQCYDw4PW1gc/s1600/P1100073.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL0eqvUukv18qLc_y23eLVnyjLkz_TSiDAvo3nukgIQfuHG6bjof-VBp9bYUHpJ6_g4aSbdbbg2dERv4UdGM4sxaMA-21ysy_nJ0HapS2Uzf21R_nPUUb7Y1re7qplQMYdQCYDw4PW1gc/s400/P1100073.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5677162433796504050" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The class included coffee and breakfast. My friends had thoughtfully brought along a bottle of prosecco, which we downed in celebration; after all, nothing says “bachelorette” like getting tipsy before noon. As for the meal itself, it was good to be reminded how crazy good homemade bread still warm from the oven can taste – even better when it’s served with homemade jam and quality capicollo!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJy5rLJt1M4c1o1dLKkZbGXSriaHTa_4xpzxHj1aF6JaWHLwW9T4679In2NEntnWl27h0xGvM8hEdKqL_eTURZYzUNs19Hy4wIYbiAJUJox3uxjCaxvU4znrn-bKpXF84ZplbB2eJDHPs/s1600/P1100106.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJy5rLJt1M4c1o1dLKkZbGXSriaHTa_4xpzxHj1aF6JaWHLwW9T4679In2NEntnWl27h0xGvM8hEdKqL_eTURZYzUNs19Hy4wIYbiAJUJox3uxjCaxvU4znrn-bKpXF84ZplbB2eJDHPs/s400/P1100106.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5677161933242103314" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN5V5znBaYW4-6XVfz28szYQBHCoDgKWk7Vry3GniVzc1wbTtTUt_AEk32RBM269sckevgkcgOAp-zz7dtuHY136xAFEFKgh2hD1qw82qw0ZUcf3XDsP-JtF1YTXsIsO0M2fZBUEIablY/s1600/P1100090.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN5V5znBaYW4-6XVfz28szYQBHCoDgKWk7Vry3GniVzc1wbTtTUt_AEk32RBM269sckevgkcgOAp-zz7dtuHY136xAFEFKgh2hD1qw82qw0ZUcf3XDsP-JtF1YTXsIsO0M2fZBUEIablY/s400/P1100090.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5677161928001619058" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I’m actually glad to be posting about this so much later after the event: it gives me a chance to feel grateful all over again for the wonderful day my bridesmaids put together! The fun didn’t end there, but the food-related part does, so… I’ll leave you on that note!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDenS_CVE6dAVPUYS0995inDv6YUxsE7QV1QJ5Rj-u_Q-UJGdJXgB3VzOc6RGgXezWvUwCj0uyNywA6wRAWmgW4UFDB_0H3FanXpGRhWlMJH_7-wA6xdRSroC1rsdeMDdt_rCJzog1CBI/s1600/P1100113.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDenS_CVE6dAVPUYS0995inDv6YUxsE7QV1QJ5Rj-u_Q-UJGdJXgB3VzOc6RGgXezWvUwCj0uyNywA6wRAWmgW4UFDB_0H3FanXpGRhWlMJH_7-wA6xdRSroC1rsdeMDdt_rCJzog1CBI/s400/P1100113.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5677161919371189778" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1942058980138707983.post-70287067623737391852011-09-28T15:39:00.003-04:002011-09-28T15:43:25.879-04:00Daring Bakers' September Challenge - Croissants<div style="text-align: justify;"><b><i>The Daring Bakers go retro this month! Thanks to one of our very talented non-blogging members, Sarah, the Daring Bakers were challenged to make Croissants using a recipe from the Queen of French Cooking, none other than Julia Child!</i></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">This is probably going to be the shortest post I’ve ever written. <b>And my last post as a single gal!</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I was excited that the Daring Bakers chose to re-visit an old challenge this month, especially because it was the <b>croissant challenge</b>. I had time to do the challenge, but now, between practicing the waltz, finalizing the seating arrangements, folding and assembling seat markers, and wrapping party favours for the guests – not to mention having an <b>awesome bachelorette event</b>, which actually revolved around baking, and which I will be sure to tell you all about – I have no time to blog about it.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNYHG3vSufbAQe0w9OfX3SyKn-JMvq-tQEhoEBQgh67jaqYtqwmgCgJDELNfb_M5mSJYxSRNzHaME4rFe2DYxKOJ5wKe-6I5DFCWm1YNioE5INQdRuZWIY08T2g6d9Eg7_3vQ-KS8PKwY/s1600/DSC_4137.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNYHG3vSufbAQe0w9OfX3SyKn-JMvq-tQEhoEBQgh67jaqYtqwmgCgJDELNfb_M5mSJYxSRNzHaME4rFe2DYxKOJ5wKe-6I5DFCWm1YNioE5INQdRuZWIY08T2g6d9Eg7_3vQ-KS8PKwY/s400/DSC_4137.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657497597404770034" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Croissants were made. They were not bad for a first try, but there is definitely room for improvement (for example, they didn’t rise nearly as much as I would have liked). But the next try will have to wait.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">My thanks to Sarah for the challenge and the very detailed instructions. Please visit the Daring Kitchen for <a href="http://thedaringkitchen.com/recipe/fresh-fluffy-french">the challenge recipes</a>, and check out <a href="http://thedaringkitchen.com/blogroll/bakers">the Daring Bakers’ blog roll</a> to look at all the super-flaky croissants that came out of ovens all over the world this month.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">See you all after the wedding!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1942058980138707983.post-64367712648820676742011-09-16T15:44:00.004-04:002011-09-16T15:58:06.537-04:00Daring Cooks' September Challenge - Stock to Soup to Consommé<div style="text-align: justify;"><b><i>Peta, of the blog Peta Eats, was our lovely hostess for the Daring Cook‟s September 2011 challenge, “Stock to Soup to Consommé”. We were taught the meaning between the three dishes, how to make a crystal clear Consommé if we so chose to do so, and encouraged to share our own delicious soup recipes!</i></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2ccEej4hgyObCHsMNtJN6yitTRtYboytI19VsUkFNXF6LwAfPq2y0amANxpm2Tjg5PQjcKcT58xwC7iutaw8Ix165_VpPkkjzhdyDfXnXxLadK3U-Uhpaq3MU17kit4v9Y-xNKDq6mY8/s1600/DSC_3992.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2ccEej4hgyObCHsMNtJN6yitTRtYboytI19VsUkFNXF6LwAfPq2y0amANxpm2Tjg5PQjcKcT58xwC7iutaw8Ix165_VpPkkjzhdyDfXnXxLadK3U-Uhpaq3MU17kit4v9Y-xNKDq6mY8/s400/DSC_3992.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653047323833645362" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Sorry for posting late… I actually remembered the deadline on time, but I’d had a long day, and just wanted to rest. Then I got busy again. <b>The wedding is in just over two weeks</b>, and it’s starting to take its toll: we have wedding-related meetings and tasks nearly every day! Also, I’ve finally gotten serious about <b>writing my thesis</b>, so I’m filling up my typing quota as it is.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">However, I was able to sneak in <a href="http://thedaringkitchen.com/recipe/stock-soup-consomm%C3%A9">this month’s Daring Cooks’ challenge</a>, and I’m glad I did, because it was an intriguing one. I liked that our hostess allowed us to keep things as simple or make them as finicky as we wanted. The core requisite was to make a beef, chicken, or vegetable <b>stock</b>. Then, we could turn it into a <b>soup </b>(simple), or a <b>consommé </b>(finicky). You know me: I shy away from layered desserts, extravagant cakes and pastry bags in general, but when it comes to savoury cooking, I’m always up for horribly complicated, time-consuming processes that lead to not necessarily impressive results (because, really, most people have no idea how much work and balancing of flavours goes into some of the simplest-looking, cleanest-tasting dishes). Plus, I make stock and soup all the time, so trying my hand at consommé was the logical choice.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I decided to make a <b>beef and onion consommé</b>, as I love French onion soup. I kind of knew it wouldn’t be perfect from the get-go, especially when the only bones I could find were <b>marrow bones</b>: the fatty marrow usually prevents one from obtaining a crystal clear stock, even when you try roasting them and extracting the marrow, as I did. On the other hand, as Peta, our hostess, pointed out, marrow also gives a lot of flavour.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwFPjW7wVAeVg8dGW7DXJPsNcbDcVBDe4_LT4iB74Tp8T2TxvLwClY3zZ4x6orEUqYwR3fIFiTRzeWPaxUj0l2Wpdu9V7wgDLcz9CuO8tZGy8A1H-2SX74iZWFwyK9pANn-9gd3nngvR8/s1600/DSC_3948.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwFPjW7wVAeVg8dGW7DXJPsNcbDcVBDe4_LT4iB74Tp8T2TxvLwClY3zZ4x6orEUqYwR3fIFiTRzeWPaxUj0l2Wpdu9V7wgDLcz9CuO8tZGy8A1H-2SX74iZWFwyK9pANn-9gd3nngvR8/s400/DSC_3948.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653046938815051698" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Having made my stock the way I usually do (cold water, no stirring, minimal simmering for hours), I made French onion beef soup, with <b>caramelized onions and red wine</b> (I was out of port and cognac).</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivnzdSuX5Mn7hySdWDQee84-RQ00LLeMs-n0K7xLOWFY9FUMGev3-7d87KwZCxt_-kfEe3TE_lsLvU3wtOmALOJ-fknbV2eNnA0gSmMXndnJHq558QfuW9dFtA5kYTKeeWUOSyTI5ePuQ/s1600/DSC_3963.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivnzdSuX5Mn7hySdWDQee84-RQ00LLeMs-n0K7xLOWFY9FUMGev3-7d87KwZCxt_-kfEe3TE_lsLvU3wtOmALOJ-fknbV2eNnA0gSmMXndnJHq558QfuW9dFtA5kYTKeeWUOSyTI5ePuQ/s400/DSC_3963.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653046936961406066" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Finally came the unknown part: making consommé. I used the traditional <b>“raft” method</b>. It consists in using a protein mixture, in this case whipped egg white and cooked ground beef, and using it to attract all the impurities to the surface of the soup. Then, you poke a hole into the raft, and carefully ladle out the liquid.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnQRMhfMarVvda-ISiVQb59TfpW2iLJdZ3HUA9GQaUzTegPqcMn4LO36jdr-YU4zbfP8JsXPEDCKzsye1TOx01HKZLmnvcwLi61zqNDHTaYHVdoKBpUccCtHRJGgOCdgD86Xo1226sj8c/s1600/DSC_3982.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnQRMhfMarVvda-ISiVQb59TfpW2iLJdZ3HUA9GQaUzTegPqcMn4LO36jdr-YU4zbfP8JsXPEDCKzsye1TOx01HKZLmnvcwLi61zqNDHTaYHVdoKBpUccCtHRJGgOCdgD86Xo1226sj8c/s400/DSC_3982.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653046298574760210" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I didn’t fare so well with this part. I can’t say whether it’s because my raft broke imperceptibly, or whether my stock was too cloudy to be saved, but my consommé was nowhere near crystal clear. But I was still very happy to sit down to a hot bowl of savoury liquid, regardless of its texture or appearance: it was late, I was hungry, and the liquid, whatever it was, tasted damn good.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8BRfg7QiKdq3VvmqYi8CH7k3HHNY9X9qqyMNXPPtnKVZKVefzXzp92kp6kGYtTK29cYt8h-5J0LZd_GckEX0exOyokWgmU94dJCZ7fqCJN64vnQ_FxOmufTicx3OuuYXoVK8qH6C8IXs/s1600/DSC_4006.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8BRfg7QiKdq3VvmqYi8CH7k3HHNY9X9qqyMNXPPtnKVZKVefzXzp92kp6kGYtTK29cYt8h-5J0LZd_GckEX0exOyokWgmU94dJCZ7fqCJN64vnQ_FxOmufTicx3OuuYXoVK8qH6C8IXs/s400/DSC_4006.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653046295193667618" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I enjoyed learning about consommé, even if mine wasn’t a runaway success. My thanks to Peta for this challenge! Please check out the challenge recipes <a href="http://thedaringkitchen.com/recipe/stock-soup-consomm%C3%A9">here</a>, and go through <a href="http://thedaringkitchen.com/blogroll/cooks">the Daring Cooks’ blog roll</a> to see the beautiful soups that were made this month.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1942058980138707983.post-19090995574142126032011-09-05T14:07:00.002-04:002011-09-05T14:20:05.822-04:00When ingredients dictate the recipe - Jerk Chicken
<br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Have you ever bought an ingredient on impulse, just because it caught your eye, without any specific idea of what you’re going to do with them? I did that a couple of weeks ago, with <b>a basket of habanero chilis</b>.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">After staring at them for a while, then safely storing them in a cupboard, out of reach from my ever-curious cat, I launched an appeal on Facebook: what to do with way too many of the hottest chilis in the world? I was honestly expecting mostly suggestions for salsa, or maybe jellies, but instead got requests for <b>beef jerky, preserves, and jerk chicken</b>. Way to think out the box, people!</div><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I opted to make jerk chicken, as suggested by Ken of <a href="http://www.afoodyear.com/">A Food Year</a>. I then planned to air dry the remaining chilis to preserve them, as suggested by Evelyne of <a href="http://www.cheapethniceatz.com/">Cheap Ethnic Eatz</a>, then crush them and use them to make jerky, as suggested by a non-blogging friend of mine who loves food so much and has such a great imagination that he really should be blogging.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Unfortunately, the air drying process went terribly wrong. Now I know: next time I want to dry chilis, make sure they’re not touching each other. As for the jerk chicken… It was good, but definitely not the epic meal I was hoping for – although it turns out that was my fault.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhggLSVW6ikUCIjwC5-Qa_VMgo9_E044vgalkBcqaOonwwljZU3Oc4lU9uRz_Q5a2K8mYbeJbzDjwQZSB7ddczedh91En5jNNpb59mlLzPa49kmnxmcidsarmLqzGgeeNpGegIgl9R7n1k/s1600/DSC_3824.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhggLSVW6ikUCIjwC5-Qa_VMgo9_E044vgalkBcqaOonwwljZU3Oc4lU9uRz_Q5a2K8mYbeJbzDjwQZSB7ddczedh91En5jNNpb59mlLzPa49kmnxmcidsarmLqzGgeeNpGegIgl9R7n1k/s400/DSC_3824.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5648939772819054082" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I’d never made jerk chicken, and had eaten it maybe once in my life, too long ago for me to recall the flavour. I did some browsing, then opted for this recipe, because it seemed straightforward. I made a couple of alterations, such as using chicken pieces instead of halves, and honey instead of molasses. Also, following Ken’s warnings, I did NOT use a blender to make the entire marinade: it stands to reason that the habanero heat would be impossible to clean out, and would linger and taint any blended food for months.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><a href="http://thechocobunny.blogspot.com/2010/05/daring-cooks-may-challenge-stacked.html">I’ve had my share of chili burns</a>, so I asked Laurent to bring me some <b>latex gloves</b> from his lab (sometimes, a fiancé who works in a lab is a cook’s dream come true). It’s funny how, despite having only ever been on the receiving end of surgery (and only wisdom teeth removal at that), wearing those gloves made me instinctively hold my paring knife the way a surgeon holds a scalpel. I guess all those medical TV dramas end up making an impression.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Everything went well, and the chicken tasted fine, but there’s no way I would rank it in my <b>Top 5 Hottest Dishes ever</b>. The latter, by the way, would probably include most of what I’ve eaten at Cuisine Szechuan (particularly the pork tongue with pickled chilis), chicken vindaloo from an otherwise unremarkable Indian restaurant, an eggplant dish at a Thai restaurant in Vienna, and the time I doused my enchilada with homemade salsa verde. This jerk chicken didn’t even come close to any of those. But then… I realized I had seeded the peppers, which explained everything. Next time, I’m leaving the seeds in.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6pflDSNlkJlSdp0fjgNZvXXd9f1DNJzFM1jqjwbq60_0KefeQWOSqkl0hxCcjJCSzV82gCyWmXsXvfbEYJ_H6EjSE2jPgeAb6DGlEAEQAOTu2WK2TiTFdz2VpWAHxBok-PlBcSZje-F4/s1600/DSC_3779.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6pflDSNlkJlSdp0fjgNZvXXd9f1DNJzFM1jqjwbq60_0KefeQWOSqkl0hxCcjJCSzV82gCyWmXsXvfbEYJ_H6EjSE2jPgeAb6DGlEAEQAOTu2WK2TiTFdz2VpWAHxBok-PlBcSZje-F4/s400/DSC_3779.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5648939769067241634" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It was also a tad <b>too sweet</b> for my taste, but it’s hard to say whether this was sweetness from the <b>honey and dark rum</b>, or if it was just an impression of sweetness, from the <b>allspice and cinnamon</b> (unlike most people, I’ve never been a huge fan of cinnamon). Hard to say, and since my remaining habanero chilis have sadly been destroyed, I can’t try the recipe again until I get my hands on some more, provided they’re still available somewhere. Just in case though, I’d reduce the cinnamon next time, from personal preference.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Nevertheless, it was still a very tasty meal, so here’s the recipe. I served it with plain white rice, <b>cooked the Persian way</b>. I’m guessing it’s not the way jerk chicken is served traditionally, but I wanted to try it. Gotta love that <b>crust </b>that forms on the bottom of the pan! But that recipe is for another post.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaESCN_0q00aI2Jz9pDyy792iKEGS358pqOPAGpaxQZBv73vfuDoFhmJ4G6XbDMzL1PDXSrP_wTv-dG86S-I6UNh_3h3xGXP_iw_nf8V69UaotEf57JlksauxPA7jWOWamPRJlmAlqbc4/s1600/DSC_3817.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaESCN_0q00aI2Jz9pDyy792iKEGS358pqOPAGpaxQZBv73vfuDoFhmJ4G6XbDMzL1PDXSrP_wTv-dG86S-I6UNh_3h3xGXP_iw_nf8V69UaotEf57JlksauxPA7jWOWamPRJlmAlqbc4/s400/DSC_3817.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5648939764200103554" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Jerk Chicken</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i>Slightly adapted from <a href="http://simplyrecipes.com/recipes/jerk_chicken/">Simply Recipes</a></i></div><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i>For the marinade:</i></div><div style="text-align: justify;">120 ml (1/2 cup) white vinegar</div><div style="text-align: justify;">2 tbsp dark rum</div><div style="text-align: justify;">2 habanero chilis, finely minced, with seeds (remove seeds for a milder version)</div><div style="text-align: justify;">1 red onion, chopped</div><div style="text-align: justify;">4 scallion tops, chopped</div><div style="text-align: justify;">2 tbsp fresh thyme leaves, chopped</div><div style="text-align: justify;">2 tbsp olive oil</div><div style="text-align: justify;">2 tsp salt</div><div style="text-align: justify;">2 tsp freshly ground black pepper</div><div style="text-align: justify;">4 tsp ground allspice</div><div style="text-align: justify;">2 tsp ground cinnamon</div><div style="text-align: justify;">4 tsp ground nutmeg</div><div style="text-align: justify;">4 tsp ground ginger</div><div style="text-align: justify;">2 tsp honey</div><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">1 whole chicken, cut into 10 pieces, skin on</div><div style="text-align: justify;">120 ml (1/2 cup) lemon juice</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Salt and pepper, to taste</div><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i>NOTE: It is important to wear gloves whenever handling habanero chilis, or anything containing chilis, such as the marinade. Avoid touching your eyes or any sensitive areas. Also, wash your hands after manipulating the chilis, and thoroughly wash your knife, cutting board, and utensils.</i></div><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Put all the marinage ingredients, except the habanero chilis, in a blender and pulse until smooth. Transfer to a bowl and stir in the minced chilis.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Wearing latex gloves to protect your hands, rub the chicken pieces with the marinade Place in a non-reactive bowl or baking dish and cover (or put in a Ziploc bag and seal), and refrigerate overnight.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Preheat oven to 180ºC (350ºF). Place the chicken pieces skin side up on a baking sheet, and bake for 40 minutes, or until the chicken is cooked through (the breasts will typically cook faster than the thighs). For a crispy skin, broil for a few minutes, keeping a close eye on the chicken to prevent burning. </div><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Serve with plain white rice.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1942058980138707983.post-30359384651080346222011-08-27T12:06:00.004-04:002011-08-27T12:25:57.857-04:00Daring Bakers' August Challenge - Candy
<br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><i>The August 2011 Daring Bakers’ Challenge was hosted by Lisa of Parsley, Sage, Desserts and Line Drive and Mandy of What the Fruitcake?!. These two sugar mavens challenged us to make sinfully delicious candies! This was a special challenge for the Daring Bakers because the good folks at http://www.chocoley.com offered an amazing prize for the winner of the most creative and delicious candy!</i></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Oh, boy. <a href="http://thedaringkitchen.com/recipe/candylicious">This month’s Daring Bakers’ challenge</a> was a doozie. Candies, including one mandatory chocolate candy. Everyone knows working with chocolate is a bitch on any given day, but working with chocolate on a humid summer day? Really? Not to mention boiling sugar and the like…</div><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAs8XVFdd4YBXQ2415XFsRErjYHr1Uo1PEE2ZZHLeiEmQ094bbAqFCRbhYrzM09oJYc7oruMVmv85VdxOJ7FcbN2V2opVfWrYYn_9hDF1IvG6ksmqhSHc_EXJB7HonB5KA-Gtmh4OeMog/s1600/DSC_3875.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAs8XVFdd4YBXQ2415XFsRErjYHr1Uo1PEE2ZZHLeiEmQ094bbAqFCRbhYrzM09oJYc7oruMVmv85VdxOJ7FcbN2V2opVfWrYYn_9hDF1IvG6ksmqhSHc_EXJB7HonB5KA-Gtmh4OeMog/s400/DSC_3875.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645569480890614594" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Ok, I’m done with the complaining… at least for now. The truth is, even though there were many reasons to skip this challenge, there were also plenty of reasons to go for it. One of them being the amount of work our hostesses put into it: the instructions were so detailed and they left us so many recipes and options, I would’ve felt bad wimping out just because “chocolate is hard.” And another reason was… well, precisely that chocolate is hard. It’s a challenge, one that I was supposed to tackle a long time ago.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">A few years back, Laurent’s dad was preparing <b>a conference on chocolate</b>, and we all got dragged into the research and trivia. We were all kind of obsessed with it, really. That’s how I got to be fairly well informed about <b>the tempering process</b>. Tempering consists in melting chocolate, cooling it down to a certain temperature, then heating it back up slightly. The aim is to obtain a specific type of crystallisation, which leads to a finished chocolate that is smoother, snappier, and shinier. Yup, I knew all about tempering… but I’d never actually done it. This was because I also knew how difficult it is to control the temperature of chocolate.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigVfYzPvYmb3O3QysGOeKcOZ4i1pxs3C1e_PuMKi3Tfk4j-Wiw_Mfun5FIUdLF_wOSuKhWJRt_gxYb-4wkK2GiQUQXNUIINcrTTLssK18bikRTg_3_Ydy4aO8bXkkc-qWU5nNESPq-L9s/s1600/DSC_3842.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigVfYzPvYmb3O3QysGOeKcOZ4i1pxs3C1e_PuMKi3Tfk4j-Wiw_Mfun5FIUdLF_wOSuKhWJRt_gxYb-4wkK2GiQUQXNUIINcrTTLssK18bikRTg_3_Ydy4aO8bXkkc-qWU5nNESPq-L9s/s400/DSC_3842.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645569478010322738" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So, with that in mind, I started off with a non-chocolate candy: <b>pâte de fruits</b>. I’ve always liked these chewy squares of fruit paste, and the recipe looked pretty simple. I made a citrus <b>grapefruit </b>version, although the pink coloring I used makes it look more like strawberry. Unfortunately, I was pretty disappointed by my result. Maybe I didn’t use enough pectin, but my <i>pâte de pamplemousse</i> never solidified as much as I would have liked. I had to store it in the fridge, and it didn’t have that satisfying chewiness I love. Also, the humidity made it absorb too much sugar, making it too sweet.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggg1ejhcNOZS21CmJ-rYcynzJEWJObMosGs4n_WtvivTIdsANLt6ZkTAt0BDnFbkfpqYlhTCsduFXcBaXiPzp9fsTX5RvWYy4T-yepbXfAt9cWUQRcSGRItsT6SUmcjysHQz0FQuyl4ik/s1600/DSC_3851.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggg1ejhcNOZS21CmJ-rYcynzJEWJObMosGs4n_WtvivTIdsANLt6ZkTAt0BDnFbkfpqYlhTCsduFXcBaXiPzp9fsTX5RvWYy4T-yepbXfAt9cWUQRcSGRItsT6SUmcjysHQz0FQuyl4ik/s400/DSC_3851.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645569476141541410" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">With that, I decided to man up and tackle the chocolate. Truffles would have been an easy way out, as Laurent and I often make truffles in the winter. But if I was doing this, I was doing it right. I decided to make <b>bonbons with a caramel filling</b>: they would highlight the tempered chocolate, and allow me to use those cute little moulds we’d bought during our chocolate obsession. With a good supply of Alto El Sol chocolate disks of the Barry brand and a marble slab which was graciously given to us a while back, I was ready.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqOFPiG7maxamkDU25LL_aZWA-5REXAcPkQc4atE8SwYh-dZG_LdBAJgzuyM6q_BnkllTzXAtsxCqVdA4thX3IJuM4h9APgwjl6LGEw0Flb_QggCD_-CRZOLFc9qaQn2bg6YKHJZFe5To/s1600/DSC_3880.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqOFPiG7maxamkDU25LL_aZWA-5REXAcPkQc4atE8SwYh-dZG_LdBAJgzuyM6q_BnkllTzXAtsxCqVdA4thX3IJuM4h9APgwjl6LGEw0Flb_QggCD_-CRZOLFc9qaQn2bg6YKHJZFe5To/s400/DSC_3880.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645568716411118642" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">As predicted, it was difficult and frustrating. I waited until all the chocolate had melted in the double boiler to test the temperature, only to find that it was already past the recommended limit. I then transferred most of the chocolate to the marble slab, and started spreading it and flipping it around. But the temperature simply refused to drop lower than 28.5ºC, even going back up at times, never anywhere near the required 27 ºC. Finally, I got bored and decided that this would have to do. I put the chocolate back over barely simmering water, and this time the temperature shot back up and was past its limit before I could do anything. That’s when I stopped using the thermometer, as it was seriously screwing with my mind. </div><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Moulding the bonbons was an exercise in frustration as well. Despite being apparently too hot, the chocolate was thick, and didn’t spread very well. Next time, I’m definitely using a <b>pastry brush</b> to fill the moulds individually, rather than trying to ladle chocolate over all the cavities: it’ll be slower, but definitely less messy. I’m sure professionals can pull it off, but I’m just not there yet.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Prior to this, I had made a filling of <b>salted caramel </b>(the original recipe was passion fruit, but I didn’t have any on hand). I have a habit of burning caramel, so I was careful this time, and the result was light and liquid – maybe a little too liquid, thus making the moulding even more difficult.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggw6lER0RN622jkShhiu29vh3xpkEuu1vvX5l_U64hMAHgwMUtIcOFK78xT-3fXb8Web7fd0kk2fRQcwJODvNR2fDFjoS0Y_Tuxg9_EI16c7pVyVQD58YJOBqN_q7ZCv4gPHnLN0ZV9G0/s1600/DSC_3890.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggw6lER0RN622jkShhiu29vh3xpkEuu1vvX5l_U64hMAHgwMUtIcOFK78xT-3fXb8Web7fd0kk2fRQcwJODvNR2fDFjoS0Y_Tuxg9_EI16c7pVyVQD58YJOBqN_q7ZCv4gPHnLN0ZV9G0/s400/DSC_3890.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645568715509228322" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">As I waited for the bonbons to set in the fridge, I cleaned up the kitchen, wiping melted chocolate off the counter, floor, walls, stovetop, and fridge handle. I was rather despondent at that point, as I was certain the result was going to be a huge fail. So when I banged the mould on the counter and <b>a perfect, shiny chocolate candy popped out</b>, I cursed in delight – which very rarely happens.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Of course, they didn’t all come out perfect. I’d say about half were edible, the others were either crushed or permanently stuck in the mould. Not great for a pound of chocolate, and I felt saddened by all the wastage. But I vow to be more careful next time, now that I have a better idea of how this works.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">My tempering was most definitely not perfect, but it still seemed to have an effect: the chocolate had a distinctive texture as it snapped between my teeth. It remains to be seen whether the nice sheen of the bonbons will last over the days. But still, it’s nice to know all that trouble wasn’t a complete waste of time.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGw21JBSF8tzcJBIugwjW6Ki8RiqvvwoqrP77N_3TT6T824YLBLvR0Mk4_McJ3NqSnQMZtZAp04BIhaGOL-FBY0dDIh-CluFtfSKe7hqJHf5ue0DmigT2tgA8lsgTXwLO1MeJwXvPU9h8/s1600/DSC_3900.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGw21JBSF8tzcJBIugwjW6Ki8RiqvvwoqrP77N_3TT6T824YLBLvR0Mk4_McJ3NqSnQMZtZAp04BIhaGOL-FBY0dDIh-CluFtfSKe7hqJHf5ue0DmigT2tgA8lsgTXwLO1MeJwXvPU9h8/s400/DSC_3900.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645568710624995890" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Lisa and Mandy, thank you so much for this challenge. Despite all my complaining, I really am glad that you pushed me to do this. Even though it didn’t go perfectly, tempering chocolate no longer seems like an impossible task.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Please check out the challenge recipes <a href="http://thedaringkitchen.com/recipe/candylicious">here</a> at the Daring Kitchen, and take a look at <a href="http://thedaringkitchen.com/blogroll/bakers">the blog roll</a> to see all the cute candies made this month.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com12