Hello foodies,
I thought I'd take a break from relating restaurant experiences and talk about books.
In addition to restaurants, cooking, and of course, eating. I also like food-themed books. There is the obvious: cookbooks; however, I also read memoirs by chefs, and fiction books where cooking and/or food play a role.
I have always enjoyed mystery novels, so, a number of years ago, I was delighted to find a series of books by Diane Mott Davidson where the protagonist is a caterer.
The first book, Catering to Nobody, opens with the main character, Goldy Bear (a little cutesy, I know), as a single mother getting her new catering business off the ground. Recently divorced, she lives in the small Colorado (fictional) town of Aspen Meadows, where she has to deal with her abusive and vindictive ex-husband, The Jerk, with the help of her best friend, Marla (The Jerk's second ex-wife). At a event she is catering, her former father-in-law mysteriously drops dead, and as the person in charge of the food (and ex-daughter-in-law), Goldy is the prime suspect. Rather than just sitting by and watching her fledgling business go down the tubes, Goldy gets to work on finding the murderer herself.
As the series progresses, she somehow keeps stumbling across other murders. She grows in confidence, and her business slowly becomes successful. Some romance even comes into her life.
Cooking, and food, are interwoven throughout the story. For Goldy, cooking is her therapy. When she is upset, needs to think, wants to comfort someone, or needs something to lull a potential suspect into slipping up, she cooks. And, for many of the things Goldy is featured cooking, the recipes find their way into the book. Favourites of mine include Tomato Brie Pie (a tasty quiche), and Turkey Curry with Raisin Rice (I omitted the raisins, of course, and over time made other adaptations to the recipe to suit my changing tastes). In later books, a major character has a health scare, so Goldy starts adapting some recipes to make them healthier, and when she takes on aspiring teenage chef who is also a vegetarian, as an assistant, vegetarian recipes start popping up as well.
These aren't hard-boiled detective novels, but they have a certain charm. The reader ends up rooting for Goldy even through some of the more contrived bits (how many murders can one small town have? There are 16 of these books.) So for a little bit of murder and a lot of cooking, consider checking Diane Mott Davidson out.
For updates, follow me on twitter: @culinarykira
Wednesday, 31 July 2013
Tuesday, 30 July 2013
More fish - Dianne's Fish Bar
Hello foodies,
Looking over my posts so far, I see that I have talked quite a bit about fish. And today, I will continue. One of the stops on my recent culinary adventure in Kingston was a new restaurant called Dianne's Fish Bar.
I have been dining in Kingston for many, many years. C has lived there since 1991, and almost any decent restaurant that has existed in Kingston during the last 22 years I have tried during my visits. For a comparatively small city, there is a solid collection of places offering interesting and sometimes innovative food. Before any trip to Kingston, C and I carefully plan our restaurant visits, studying menus, balancing old favourites with new options. Until now, though, there has never been a dedicated fish restaurant (other than The Red Lobster, which doesn't count). So, naturally, I was very excited when C mentioned this new place.
Located downtown, very near the lake, it is in one of those old brick buildings that make up so much of downtown Kingston. The interior has the exposed brick, colourfully painted pipes at the ceiling giving it a bit of a factory feel, complimented by some subtle blue neon lighting and blue/grey metallic details, and stemware and dishes with blue and green tints. Overall, a good atmosphere, though I found the service rather slow, particularly considering it wasn't a full house. C assures me that it is usually better than we experienced.
There were a number of things that interested me on the menu, so I ordered more than I should have. First, ceviche.
They have three different kinds, and for the same price as a full order of any one of them, you could order a small sample of all three. At the top is Vallarta, a market white fish with red onion, avocado, lemon, clamato juice, and a few other ingredients. To me, serviceable, but my least favourite of the three. I could tell it was well done, but it just wasn't as interesting as the other two. At the left, we have albacore tuna poke - a highlight because of the salty soy and sesame base, the glorious texture of the tuna, cut by the freshness of lime juice and ginger. The bottom right is bay scallops, which as ceviche have a lovely texture, and aren't as sweet as they are when cooked, with grapefruit, jalapeno, cilantro, mint and cucumber. I loved the heat of the jalapeno against the fresh ingredients and the silky smooth, cool scallop. The scallop was a little more traditional; the tuna a little more interesting. I have a hard time saying which I liked better.
Being gluttonous whenever in Kingston, I also ordered fish tacos.
To complete the gluttony, I ordered an oyster po'boy, with Mexican street corn as the side.
I have trouble judging this one because I was quite full. These were large oysters, and the batter to oyster ratio was good. The oysters were not overcooked. When deep frying something as delicate as an oyster it takes some skill not to leave it as a hard little bit of rubber on the inside. They succeeded admirably in this. The sandwich was good. The corn was wonderful, one of my favourite bites all weekend. Grilled, rubbed with butter, tossed with a cumin-based spice blend, the corn was sweet with a little crunch, and the char and spices added great flavour complexity.
C reported that the chowder was good. Warning, it is a thin broth chowder, not a thick and creamy chowder.
Looking over my posts so far, I see that I have talked quite a bit about fish. And today, I will continue. One of the stops on my recent culinary adventure in Kingston was a new restaurant called Dianne's Fish Bar.
I have been dining in Kingston for many, many years. C has lived there since 1991, and almost any decent restaurant that has existed in Kingston during the last 22 years I have tried during my visits. For a comparatively small city, there is a solid collection of places offering interesting and sometimes innovative food. Before any trip to Kingston, C and I carefully plan our restaurant visits, studying menus, balancing old favourites with new options. Until now, though, there has never been a dedicated fish restaurant (other than The Red Lobster, which doesn't count). So, naturally, I was very excited when C mentioned this new place.
Located downtown, very near the lake, it is in one of those old brick buildings that make up so much of downtown Kingston. The interior has the exposed brick, colourfully painted pipes at the ceiling giving it a bit of a factory feel, complimented by some subtle blue neon lighting and blue/grey metallic details, and stemware and dishes with blue and green tints. Overall, a good atmosphere, though I found the service rather slow, particularly considering it wasn't a full house. C assures me that it is usually better than we experienced.
There were a number of things that interested me on the menu, so I ordered more than I should have. First, ceviche.
They have three different kinds, and for the same price as a full order of any one of them, you could order a small sample of all three. At the top is Vallarta, a market white fish with red onion, avocado, lemon, clamato juice, and a few other ingredients. To me, serviceable, but my least favourite of the three. I could tell it was well done, but it just wasn't as interesting as the other two. At the left, we have albacore tuna poke - a highlight because of the salty soy and sesame base, the glorious texture of the tuna, cut by the freshness of lime juice and ginger. The bottom right is bay scallops, which as ceviche have a lovely texture, and aren't as sweet as they are when cooked, with grapefruit, jalapeno, cilantro, mint and cucumber. I loved the heat of the jalapeno against the fresh ingredients and the silky smooth, cool scallop. The scallop was a little more traditional; the tuna a little more interesting. I have a hard time saying which I liked better.
Being gluttonous whenever in Kingston, I also ordered fish tacos.
The left is a traditional fish taco: battered pacific cod, pickled cabbage, radish, crema. The fish was cooked beautifully, but I would have liked a little more bite in the pickled cabbage. The taco on the right is shrimp pibil, with pasilla chile, pineapple, and pico de gallo. The shrimp was meaty and flavourful, and I appreciated the spiciness of the chile. Where the tacos failed was with the tortillas. Billed as handmade Mexican style corn tortillas, the texture wasn't very pleasant, and they were dry and fell apart easily, making eating them a challenge. To complete the gluttony, I ordered an oyster po'boy, with Mexican street corn as the side.
I have trouble judging this one because I was quite full. These were large oysters, and the batter to oyster ratio was good. The oysters were not overcooked. When deep frying something as delicate as an oyster it takes some skill not to leave it as a hard little bit of rubber on the inside. They succeeded admirably in this. The sandwich was good. The corn was wonderful, one of my favourite bites all weekend. Grilled, rubbed with butter, tossed with a cumin-based spice blend, the corn was sweet with a little crunch, and the char and spices added great flavour complexity.
C reported that the chowder was good. Warning, it is a thin broth chowder, not a thick and creamy chowder.
And she followed that up with a lobster roll with a side of kimchi fried rice, which she also found to be good, She did, however, feel that I "won" lunch because the the beautifully fried oysters and the glorious ceviche. Victory was mine!
I would definitely return to this restaurant. What I tried was good enough to make me want to try more.
For updates, follow me on twitter: @culinarykiraMonday, 29 July 2013
A wine evening
Hello foodies,
My culinary adventure in Kingston ended last night, and a fantastic weekend it was. I came back with lots of pics, restaurants to blog about, and, the raison d'etre for my trip - the wine tasting.
Saturday evening was the brainchild of my food soulmate, C. The premise: a small group of women gather for a formal wine tasting (though not so formal that we actually spit the wine out - that would just be a waste). Each person brings a red wine, label covered, and some sort of red wine friendly food item. We taste and discuss the wines one at a time, trying to figure out region and varietal (or blend), and scoring the wines on appearance, aroma, and taste, before the big reveal.
Of the participants, there was C, a novice wine drinker who had never participated in a formal tasting, then J and me, a little more experienced. I had actually been to a couple of tutored tasting events, so I knew the basics or looking at colour, clarity and legs; sniffing, swirling, and sniffing again; and then tasting it so that the wine hits all the flavour centres on your tongue. S and SM were more advanced tasters, able to more finely hone in on the varietal(s) and regions.
So, for those who have never formally tasted wine before - it is just as pretentious as it looks on TV. But a LOT of fun, too.
First step: hold the glass in front of something white so you can get a true sense of the colour and clarity. Is it a deep, deep purple and opaque? Is tending more towards a lighter purple and you can see through the wine? Does it have a tawny, brown tinge? Is there sediment or cloudiness?
Second step: tilt the glass to the side and set it back to right so that you can see how quickly the liquid runs back down the side of the glass. The wine gathers together in thin streams; how quickly this happens, and how long and thin those streams are, indicate the wine's sugar content - or, its legs. More sugar generally means more a more viscous wine, which generally has shorter, wider legs that take longer to form. So an elegant, spare pinot noir will usually have longer legs than an intense amarone.
Third step: sniff. Really get your nose in there. Can you detect any particular smells? Is it the same at the beginning of your sniff as at the end? Then swirl the glass, making a little whirlpool so the wine sloshes up the sides. Carefully. This aerates the wine somewhat, waking it up. Sniff again, and it may smell different. You may be able to differentiate more scents.
Finally, the tasting. Take a small sip, letting it roll over your tongue. How does it feel in your mouth? Thin and free, or more velvety? Can you taste the mouth-puckering tannins so often present in red wine? Does it taste like what you expected based step three? Does the taste stay the same from start to finish? Is it sweet? Acidic? Minerally? Can you detect spice or fruit or oak? And when you're done, after you swallow, how long does the taste stay with you? Does it linger, or is it gone as soon as you take a breath? A long finish is one that lingers.
It ended up that three of the four wines were California wines (Apothic Red, Cupcake, and Menage à Trois), all blends, and one was Argentinian. No one correctly pinned the local for the Argentinian wine (a blend involving Malbec grapes); the balance and restraint suggested Europe rather than South America.
Some interesting takeaways:
For updates, follow me on twitter: @culinarykira
My culinary adventure in Kingston ended last night, and a fantastic weekend it was. I came back with lots of pics, restaurants to blog about, and, the raison d'etre for my trip - the wine tasting.
Saturday evening was the brainchild of my food soulmate, C. The premise: a small group of women gather for a formal wine tasting (though not so formal that we actually spit the wine out - that would just be a waste). Each person brings a red wine, label covered, and some sort of red wine friendly food item. We taste and discuss the wines one at a time, trying to figure out region and varietal (or blend), and scoring the wines on appearance, aroma, and taste, before the big reveal.
Of the participants, there was C, a novice wine drinker who had never participated in a formal tasting, then J and me, a little more experienced. I had actually been to a couple of tutored tasting events, so I knew the basics or looking at colour, clarity and legs; sniffing, swirling, and sniffing again; and then tasting it so that the wine hits all the flavour centres on your tongue. S and SM were more advanced tasters, able to more finely hone in on the varietal(s) and regions.
So, for those who have never formally tasted wine before - it is just as pretentious as it looks on TV. But a LOT of fun, too.
First step: hold the glass in front of something white so you can get a true sense of the colour and clarity. Is it a deep, deep purple and opaque? Is tending more towards a lighter purple and you can see through the wine? Does it have a tawny, brown tinge? Is there sediment or cloudiness?
Second step: tilt the glass to the side and set it back to right so that you can see how quickly the liquid runs back down the side of the glass. The wine gathers together in thin streams; how quickly this happens, and how long and thin those streams are, indicate the wine's sugar content - or, its legs. More sugar generally means more a more viscous wine, which generally has shorter, wider legs that take longer to form. So an elegant, spare pinot noir will usually have longer legs than an intense amarone.
Third step: sniff. Really get your nose in there. Can you detect any particular smells? Is it the same at the beginning of your sniff as at the end? Then swirl the glass, making a little whirlpool so the wine sloshes up the sides. Carefully. This aerates the wine somewhat, waking it up. Sniff again, and it may smell different. You may be able to differentiate more scents.
Finally, the tasting. Take a small sip, letting it roll over your tongue. How does it feel in your mouth? Thin and free, or more velvety? Can you taste the mouth-puckering tannins so often present in red wine? Does it taste like what you expected based step three? Does the taste stay the same from start to finish? Is it sweet? Acidic? Minerally? Can you detect spice or fruit or oak? And when you're done, after you swallow, how long does the taste stay with you? Does it linger, or is it gone as soon as you take a breath? A long finish is one that lingers.
It ended up that three of the four wines were California wines (Apothic Red, Cupcake, and Menage à Trois), all blends, and one was Argentinian. No one correctly pinned the local for the Argentinian wine (a blend involving Malbec grapes); the balance and restraint suggested Europe rather than South America.
Some interesting takeaways:
- Those Venturi aerators are more than just expensive toys. They do change the flavour. From wine to wine, you might prefer one having gone through the Venturi and another without. Thanks to S and SM for bringing the Venturi.
- Sometimes the taste is quite surprising compared to the scent.
- Palate cleaners are a neat little trick. S brought a citrus ice with organic buckwheat honey palate cleanser. A mix of lemon and lime juice over shaved ice, it was bracingly tart (I love lemon and lime) and finished with a clear hint of the buckwheat honey. Taking a sip of wine, a bite of citrus ice, and then another sip of the same wine completely changed the texture of the wine in your mouth, making a non-viscous and minerally wine feel thick and velvety.
- Triple cream goat brie on sesame rice crackers is amazing. I think I like goat brie better than regular brie now.
- Salami and grilled peppers, zucchini, and sundried tomatoes in olive oil are excellent accompaniments to red wine.
For updates, follow me on twitter: @culinarykira
Friday, 26 July 2013
On the road.....
Hello foodies!
Culinary adventure in Kingston this weekend. No posts until Monday, but follow me on twitter for updates as the weekend progresses!
@culinarykira
Culinary adventure in Kingston this weekend. No posts until Monday, but follow me on twitter for updates as the weekend progresses!
@culinarykira
Thursday, 25 July 2013
Top Master Iron Worst Chopped Chef Network Star
Hello foodies,
There is a cooking show out there for everyone. Grillers, people wanting to learn about entertaining, various ethnic foods, the secrets of a restaurant chefs, best things our favourite celebrity chefs have eaten or made. From a learning perspective perhaps my favourite of all time was Alton Brown's Good Eats. But those tutorial type shows are a tiny part of my food show viewing. I turn to them only when I cannot find my true passion: the competition shows.
I am a cooking competition show junkie. I love them. Unlike the instructional shows, where you get the sense that many of the presenters are chosen for their polish and mass appeal more than their chef skills, most of the competition shows involve real working chefs at the top of their game, doing things I am not always familiar with, and wouldn't, or couldn't, do at home.
My introduction to the genre was Iron Chef: America, and the first episode I watched was battle garlic, where, if I remember correctly, Michael Symon, now an Iron Chef himself, was defeated by Mario Batali. What I remember most was the stylish plating involving a roasted bird clasping a roasted clove of garlic in its outstretched claw. That would never have occurred to me. It was macabre and fascinating, and I so wanted to be there eating that.
From there I expanded my repertoire. I now not only watch those at the top of their game, like the Iron Chefs and the Top Chefs; I watch amateur cooking shows like Masterchef and Worst Cooks in America. If week by week someone is going to get eliminated, I am there to watch them. It is the only reality TV I have ever watched (except one shameful part-season of Top Model, which I totally blame on my sister and our friend, M).
These shows are not specifically geared towards educating the viewers but I find I do learn from them. Watching the techniques used is always good, of course, but I learn a great deal from the judges. Listening to their comments and critiques has made me a more educated eater. I have come to a better understanding of composition and balance. I am now less likely to throw together my best main, my best side and my best salad and consider that to be impressive. I give more thought now to whether those three things go together. After listening, I get what they mean when they say a dish is balanced (and it is happens more rarely than you might think). I can recognize the difference between a solid dish and a home run. And the ways of analyzing dishes I have learned from these shows has made me understand better what it is that will impress me in a dish, so when I order, I am less likely to be disappointed in my selection.
Last night, Top Chef: Masters premiered. This season features Canadian chef Lynn Crawford, so, obviously, I will be pulling for her. Masterchef, a current favourite, is heading into the home stretch. The fall promises a crop of new seasons for the various versions of these shows, and I will continue to watch, devotedly.
For updates, follow me on twitter: @culinarykira
There is a cooking show out there for everyone. Grillers, people wanting to learn about entertaining, various ethnic foods, the secrets of a restaurant chefs, best things our favourite celebrity chefs have eaten or made. From a learning perspective perhaps my favourite of all time was Alton Brown's Good Eats. But those tutorial type shows are a tiny part of my food show viewing. I turn to them only when I cannot find my true passion: the competition shows.
I am a cooking competition show junkie. I love them. Unlike the instructional shows, where you get the sense that many of the presenters are chosen for their polish and mass appeal more than their chef skills, most of the competition shows involve real working chefs at the top of their game, doing things I am not always familiar with, and wouldn't, or couldn't, do at home.
My introduction to the genre was Iron Chef: America, and the first episode I watched was battle garlic, where, if I remember correctly, Michael Symon, now an Iron Chef himself, was defeated by Mario Batali. What I remember most was the stylish plating involving a roasted bird clasping a roasted clove of garlic in its outstretched claw. That would never have occurred to me. It was macabre and fascinating, and I so wanted to be there eating that.
From there I expanded my repertoire. I now not only watch those at the top of their game, like the Iron Chefs and the Top Chefs; I watch amateur cooking shows like Masterchef and Worst Cooks in America. If week by week someone is going to get eliminated, I am there to watch them. It is the only reality TV I have ever watched (except one shameful part-season of Top Model, which I totally blame on my sister and our friend, M).
These shows are not specifically geared towards educating the viewers but I find I do learn from them. Watching the techniques used is always good, of course, but I learn a great deal from the judges. Listening to their comments and critiques has made me a more educated eater. I have come to a better understanding of composition and balance. I am now less likely to throw together my best main, my best side and my best salad and consider that to be impressive. I give more thought now to whether those three things go together. After listening, I get what they mean when they say a dish is balanced (and it is happens more rarely than you might think). I can recognize the difference between a solid dish and a home run. And the ways of analyzing dishes I have learned from these shows has made me understand better what it is that will impress me in a dish, so when I order, I am less likely to be disappointed in my selection.
Last night, Top Chef: Masters premiered. This season features Canadian chef Lynn Crawford, so, obviously, I will be pulling for her. Masterchef, a current favourite, is heading into the home stretch. The fall promises a crop of new seasons for the various versions of these shows, and I will continue to watch, devotedly.
For updates, follow me on twitter: @culinarykira
Wednesday, 24 July 2013
Try it twice - my experience with Uni
Hello foodies,
Today I'd like to continue on the theme of food that challenges. Last week, I posted about steeling myself to try something many consider a delicacy, but many others also consider weird - prawn heads. That particular story has a happy ending - I liked the prawn heads. I felt a rosy glow of accomplishment in conquering my fears. I am now smugly able to say that I am one of those "in the know." I understand why food critics and celebrity chefs judging food competitions rave about it. I get why the chefs competing on those shows serve them. But, honestly, it could have gone the other way. I could have disliked those meaty, savoury, crispy heads. What happens when you try one of these renowned delicacies (or any food, really), and your gut reaction is "blech..."?
Today I'd like to continue on the theme of food that challenges. Last week, I posted about steeling myself to try something many consider a delicacy, but many others also consider weird - prawn heads. That particular story has a happy ending - I liked the prawn heads. I felt a rosy glow of accomplishment in conquering my fears. I am now smugly able to say that I am one of those "in the know." I understand why food critics and celebrity chefs judging food competitions rave about it. I get why the chefs competing on those shows serve them. But, honestly, it could have gone the other way. I could have disliked those meaty, savoury, crispy heads. What happens when you try one of these renowned delicacies (or any food, really), and your gut reaction is "blech..."?
Sea urchin, or uni, in sushi terminology, is a sought-after luxury item. The delicate orange roe, carefully harvested from the prickly, spiny urchin is prized as one of the very best things the ocean has to offer. I first tried it almost 15 years ago, early in my development as a food aficionado. I had only just started eating sushi, had branched out beyond California rolls, and was flush with confidence at my new-found sophistication. "Uni?" I said, "Bring it on!"
I did not like it. That first time, the taste barely registered. I have no memory of it. What stuck with me was the texture. Squishy, with a slightly fibrous feel, because, really is a bunch of individual eggs, and almost foamy - like if you kept chewing you'd work up a good lather. I swallowed it quickly because the mouth feel was so unpleasant. Obviously, sea urchin was not for me.
But as I grew and became more adventurous, gaining a greater appreciation and understanding of food, I wondered if I had judged it too quickly. I can certainly think of many, many other things that I had disliked at first, but that upon trying again I came to like, even love. Liver, for example. Mushrooms. So, earlier this year, I decided to give uni another try.
I went to my favourite sushi place (Wasabi, in the Byward Market), and ordered a single piece of uni sushi in addition to my rainbow roll. Positive that this time I was better equipped to handle the particular challenges presented by the uni, I popped it in my mouth. I still did not like it. My initial take on the texture all those years ago was confirmed, but this time, I did not swallow quickly to get past the unpleasantness. I forced myself to taste it. I could tell it was quality stuff. Fresh. But that briny ocean taste that I love so much in a raw oyster was different with the uni. I wouldn't say it was fishy, exactly, but it was oceany and intense, and too concentrated for my liking. I can now say for certain that I do not like uni. At least, not raw, as sushi/sashimi. I may even try it again in one of the many other possible preparations, ones that may overcome the texture/intensity issues that make me dislike the sushi.
All this to arrive at.... when I don't like something, I try it a second time. Not the same day. I don't take two consecutive bites; that just creates a food aversion. I take the time to process. Put it aside and think about why I didn't like it. Then days, weeks, months, or even years later, I try it again. Only if it fails the beta test will I say I truly don't like it.
After all, the only truly irredeemable food is raisins.
On another subject... Follow me on twitter (@culinarykira) for notifications of blog updates, plus random food and food culture related observations.
Tuesday, 23 July 2013
Brown and wild rice with mushrooms
Hello foodies,
I have been looking for wild rice since late May, when I came back from my annual girls' getaway with S. The last couple of years, we have done a weekend that involves a cooking class. This year, we went to Niagara-on-the-Lake, and did an afternoon/evening class at Strewn winery. One of the dishes that stood out to both S and me was the brown and wild rice with mushrooms. I returned to Ottawa, all enthusiastic about making it, and have since been stymied by the apparent scarcity of wild rice on its own. That stuff is hard to find. Grocery stores carry it as part of a pre-made mix, but those of us wanting to mix it ourselves seem to be out of luck. Unless, as I have discovered, you go to a health food store.
So, since I had to go by a health food store on my way to the Pelican last night, I scored some (expensive) wild rice, and today I made brown and wild rice with mushrooms, pan-roasted chicken breast with thyme, and a Greek salad for my dinner guests, S and D.
Since I seem to have lost the recipes I brought back from my cooking weekend, I had to make it up as I went along. This is easily vegetarian, or even vegan, if you use veggie stock instead of chicken.
Recipe:
1 1/4 c brown rice
3/4 c wild rice
3 c chicken or veggie stock.
5 garlic cloves
5 green onions
1 1/2 c cremini mushrooms, sliced
Several springs of thyme, woody stems removed
1 c reconstituted dried mushrooms of choice (today I used a shiitake, portobello and oyster blend)
splash of white wine
salt and pepper to taste
Put dried mushrooms in 1-1/2 c of hot water to reconstitute. Reserve liquid.
Mix together brown and wild rice, rinse, and drain.
Heat a saucepan with a couple of tablespoons of olive oil. Mince 2 cloves of garlic and chop 2 green onions. Soften in saucepan. Add rice and stir, letting rice get slightly toasty. Add stock and reserved mushroom water. Bring to a boil, cover and reduce heat to low. after about 30-40 minutes, start checking rice to see if it is done. Add more liquid if needed.
In a skillet, heat oil. Mince remaining garlic; chop remaining green onions. Soften garlic and onions in pan. Add mushrooms and mix together. Add salt and pepper. Let mushrooms cook, stirring occasionally, until liquid is released and cooked off. Chop and add add thyme, and a splash of white wine (maybe 1/4 c) and stir. Let wine cook off. When rice is done, stir mushrooms into rice. Taste and adjust seasoning as needed. Can add fresh chopped parsley to garnish, if desired.
Serves 6, generously.
Goes well with chicken dishes. Probably less so if you're a vegetarian.
I also made one of my favourite summer desserts, which I call a berry cloud (thanks to A for the original recipe).
I have been looking for wild rice since late May, when I came back from my annual girls' getaway with S. The last couple of years, we have done a weekend that involves a cooking class. This year, we went to Niagara-on-the-Lake, and did an afternoon/evening class at Strewn winery. One of the dishes that stood out to both S and me was the brown and wild rice with mushrooms. I returned to Ottawa, all enthusiastic about making it, and have since been stymied by the apparent scarcity of wild rice on its own. That stuff is hard to find. Grocery stores carry it as part of a pre-made mix, but those of us wanting to mix it ourselves seem to be out of luck. Unless, as I have discovered, you go to a health food store.
So, since I had to go by a health food store on my way to the Pelican last night, I scored some (expensive) wild rice, and today I made brown and wild rice with mushrooms, pan-roasted chicken breast with thyme, and a Greek salad for my dinner guests, S and D.
Since I seem to have lost the recipes I brought back from my cooking weekend, I had to make it up as I went along. This is easily vegetarian, or even vegan, if you use veggie stock instead of chicken.
Recipe:
1 1/4 c brown rice
3/4 c wild rice
3 c chicken or veggie stock.
5 garlic cloves
5 green onions
1 1/2 c cremini mushrooms, sliced
Several springs of thyme, woody stems removed
1 c reconstituted dried mushrooms of choice (today I used a shiitake, portobello and oyster blend)
splash of white wine
salt and pepper to taste
Put dried mushrooms in 1-1/2 c of hot water to reconstitute. Reserve liquid.
Mix together brown and wild rice, rinse, and drain.
Heat a saucepan with a couple of tablespoons of olive oil. Mince 2 cloves of garlic and chop 2 green onions. Soften in saucepan. Add rice and stir, letting rice get slightly toasty. Add stock and reserved mushroom water. Bring to a boil, cover and reduce heat to low. after about 30-40 minutes, start checking rice to see if it is done. Add more liquid if needed.
In a skillet, heat oil. Mince remaining garlic; chop remaining green onions. Soften garlic and onions in pan. Add mushrooms and mix together. Add salt and pepper. Let mushrooms cook, stirring occasionally, until liquid is released and cooked off. Chop and add add thyme, and a splash of white wine (maybe 1/4 c) and stir. Let wine cook off. When rice is done, stir mushrooms into rice. Taste and adjust seasoning as needed. Can add fresh chopped parsley to garnish, if desired.
Serves 6, generously.
Goes well with chicken dishes. Probably less so if you're a vegetarian.
I also made one of my favourite summer desserts, which I call a berry cloud (thanks to A for the original recipe).
Monday, 22 July 2013
Fishy Fare Part I - The Pelican Fishery and Grill
Hello foodies,
Here we have another restaurant post. But what else are you going to do when you have friends in town who want to sample some local cuisine? S and D arrived today, and we had decided that one evening we'd eat out, and one evening I'd cook. S expressed an interest in fish, so I outlined the options as I see them: Lapointe's in the Market, Whalesbone, and The Pelican Fishery and Grill. Sorry, to me The Fish Market isn't really a consideration. Each has their own strengths, and each has some drawbacks. Over time, I imagine that each will get their own instalment, but today, S chose The Pelican Fishery and Grill.
One of the things that draws me back to a restaurant is a certain thoughtfulness in the crafting of an entree. I want to be intrigued by the combinations. I don't want the only variation to be in the protein, with all entrees served with either fries or the same roasted potatoes and and tired medley of "seasonal" vegetables. Giving me a perfectly cooked protein with uninspired sides is not going get you on my A list. And I am happy to say that The Pelican scores well on thinking out their dishes and presenting a really stunning plate. However, reading the menu, you have no idea of the beauty that is about to land in front of you, and someone like me, who chooses a restaurant based on how much the menu intrigues, may simply pass up on a place like this.
I had first been there a number of years ago when a worked in the area. And I remembered it as a decent fish place, remarkable more for the fact that the Grill shared open space with the Fishery, which I considered somewhat of a risky proposition, since fishmongers typically have something of an aroma that not all find pleasant, than for the food. Flash forward to 2012. I no longer work nearby, and an out of town friend planning a trip to Ottawa mentions a groupon and asks me if I'd be willing to go back. Since I remembered as a place that serves a decent piece of fish, I agreed. The meal we had was a surprise. The food put in front of us was so much more than the menu led us to expect. Since then, I have been back several times.
Tonight, the winner of the prettiest dish was S.
Pan-roasted arctic char with barley, peas, asparagus, and roasted tomato in a spring vegetable nage. The picture does not do it justice. This dish was food magazine quality in appearance alone. S found it very satisfying, and confirmed the char was a delight (although S particularly loved the fresh peas).
D went with the more traditional fish and chips, opting for haddock in a panko breading rather than beer batter.
Having had this dish on a past lunch visit, I know it is very good. I tend to be so-so on fish and chips. I like the idea, but sometimes find it a little heavy, and for me, fries have to be really good to interest me. These are really good fries. I like the fact that they offer both the traditional beer batter for purists and a panko crust for those who want something a little lighter.
I was in the mood for something light, so I combined two appetizers. In addition to the soup of the day (today was cauliflower and cheddar), they always have a lobster bisque and a clam chowder. In fact, on the Fishery side, you can buy take home portions of both. I can make a damn fine chowder myself, so I usually go for the bisque, since it is not something that I have (yet) attempted. The bisque is rich and well seasoned, with a solid lobster taste and underlying hint of brandy typical of the dish. When you eat in the restaurant, the bisque also has chunks of lobster added to it, like succulent little treasures to seek and find.
My other appetizer was fish tacos, which are new to the menu. I am a fan of tacos in general, and for me, fish is the king of tacos. As far as I have noticed, they have only been semi-available on Ottawa menus for the last year or two. In my view, the key to a good fish taco is, first and foremost the fish. It can't be overcooked. I have had both pan fried fish tacos and the more traditional battered fish. Today's was battered, and I must say it ranked in the top two battered fish tacos I have had, though I continue to research this dish at every opportunity. The next most important thing is the balance of toppings. These came with pickled red onion, cilantro, crema, pico de gallo, and charred jalapeno pepper. The charred heat of the pepper against the cooling force of the crema and the fresh cilantro was effective. The tortilla was grilled, and was great while hot and fresh, but the appeal of the tortilla declined quickly as I went back and forth between the soup and the bites of taco.
The dessert menu is not extensive. Generally, a creme brulee of some sort and one other option. Today it was a moist chocolate cake with a Belgian chocolate drizzle that looked good when we saw it delivered to other tables. So we gave into temptation.
It was a good piece of cake. If I order dessert it is because I am taken in by something that looks beautiful, but more often than not, I am disappointed. Cake I usually find dry. This one was not, and the semi-sweet chocolate had a lovely texture and brought the sweetness down a couple of notches.
I like The Pelican. It meets at a good place on the creativity and quality vs price point spectrum. A couple of comments about atmosphere before I go.... It is has an industrial feel, with metallic, coppery tables and painted pipes at the ceiling. The decor includes suits of armour for fish. The place is small and busy. Servers are pleasant and friendly, but service is slow to very slow. As a side note, their price on oysters is the best I have encountered short of buying and shucking them myself.
Thanks to S and D for patiently letting me take pics of their food.
Here we have another restaurant post. But what else are you going to do when you have friends in town who want to sample some local cuisine? S and D arrived today, and we had decided that one evening we'd eat out, and one evening I'd cook. S expressed an interest in fish, so I outlined the options as I see them: Lapointe's in the Market, Whalesbone, and The Pelican Fishery and Grill. Sorry, to me The Fish Market isn't really a consideration. Each has their own strengths, and each has some drawbacks. Over time, I imagine that each will get their own instalment, but today, S chose The Pelican Fishery and Grill.
One of the things that draws me back to a restaurant is a certain thoughtfulness in the crafting of an entree. I want to be intrigued by the combinations. I don't want the only variation to be in the protein, with all entrees served with either fries or the same roasted potatoes and and tired medley of "seasonal" vegetables. Giving me a perfectly cooked protein with uninspired sides is not going get you on my A list. And I am happy to say that The Pelican scores well on thinking out their dishes and presenting a really stunning plate. However, reading the menu, you have no idea of the beauty that is about to land in front of you, and someone like me, who chooses a restaurant based on how much the menu intrigues, may simply pass up on a place like this.
I had first been there a number of years ago when a worked in the area. And I remembered it as a decent fish place, remarkable more for the fact that the Grill shared open space with the Fishery, which I considered somewhat of a risky proposition, since fishmongers typically have something of an aroma that not all find pleasant, than for the food. Flash forward to 2012. I no longer work nearby, and an out of town friend planning a trip to Ottawa mentions a groupon and asks me if I'd be willing to go back. Since I remembered as a place that serves a decent piece of fish, I agreed. The meal we had was a surprise. The food put in front of us was so much more than the menu led us to expect. Since then, I have been back several times.
Tonight, the winner of the prettiest dish was S.
Pan-roasted arctic char with barley, peas, asparagus, and roasted tomato in a spring vegetable nage. The picture does not do it justice. This dish was food magazine quality in appearance alone. S found it very satisfying, and confirmed the char was a delight (although S particularly loved the fresh peas).
D went with the more traditional fish and chips, opting for haddock in a panko breading rather than beer batter.
Having had this dish on a past lunch visit, I know it is very good. I tend to be so-so on fish and chips. I like the idea, but sometimes find it a little heavy, and for me, fries have to be really good to interest me. These are really good fries. I like the fact that they offer both the traditional beer batter for purists and a panko crust for those who want something a little lighter.
I was in the mood for something light, so I combined two appetizers. In addition to the soup of the day (today was cauliflower and cheddar), they always have a lobster bisque and a clam chowder. In fact, on the Fishery side, you can buy take home portions of both. I can make a damn fine chowder myself, so I usually go for the bisque, since it is not something that I have (yet) attempted. The bisque is rich and well seasoned, with a solid lobster taste and underlying hint of brandy typical of the dish. When you eat in the restaurant, the bisque also has chunks of lobster added to it, like succulent little treasures to seek and find.
My other appetizer was fish tacos, which are new to the menu. I am a fan of tacos in general, and for me, fish is the king of tacos. As far as I have noticed, they have only been semi-available on Ottawa menus for the last year or two. In my view, the key to a good fish taco is, first and foremost the fish. It can't be overcooked. I have had both pan fried fish tacos and the more traditional battered fish. Today's was battered, and I must say it ranked in the top two battered fish tacos I have had, though I continue to research this dish at every opportunity. The next most important thing is the balance of toppings. These came with pickled red onion, cilantro, crema, pico de gallo, and charred jalapeno pepper. The charred heat of the pepper against the cooling force of the crema and the fresh cilantro was effective. The tortilla was grilled, and was great while hot and fresh, but the appeal of the tortilla declined quickly as I went back and forth between the soup and the bites of taco.
The dessert menu is not extensive. Generally, a creme brulee of some sort and one other option. Today it was a moist chocolate cake with a Belgian chocolate drizzle that looked good when we saw it delivered to other tables. So we gave into temptation.
It was a good piece of cake. If I order dessert it is because I am taken in by something that looks beautiful, but more often than not, I am disappointed. Cake I usually find dry. This one was not, and the semi-sweet chocolate had a lovely texture and brought the sweetness down a couple of notches.
I like The Pelican. It meets at a good place on the creativity and quality vs price point spectrum. A couple of comments about atmosphere before I go.... It is has an industrial feel, with metallic, coppery tables and painted pipes at the ceiling. The decor includes suits of armour for fish. The place is small and busy. Servers are pleasant and friendly, but service is slow to very slow. As a side note, their price on oysters is the best I have encountered short of buying and shucking them myself.
Thanks to S and D for patiently letting me take pics of their food.
Saturday, 20 July 2013
Play Food & Wine
Hello Foodies!
My very favourite restaurant in Ottawa is Play Food & Wine, located at the corner of York and Sussex in the Byward Market. I have lunch there almost every weekend. I take friends and family there when they visit, hoping that they love it as much as I do. What is it that keeps me coming back?
Well, it is in the name. Play. The approach to food here is playful. Joyful.
The atmosphere is bright and upbeat, with splashes of colour provided by the red crepe draping at the ceiling and the photography on the walls. Downstairs, you can sit at the bar, or at one of the warm wooden tables. Upstairs is at open kitchen with bar seating looking directly in, as well as banquette seating.
The staff is exceptional. The servers are friendly, sincere and knowledgeable, more than up to the task of answering questions about the menu and how the food is prepared. If they don't know the answer, they find it for you quickly. There does not seem to be a very high turnover of staff, which, to me, is a good sign.
But the main event is the food. Play serves small plates. 2 plates make a nice meal, or they're great for sharing.
The menu changes frequently. The only dish that has been on the menu since day 1 is the hanger steak. I consider that dish the concession to people who do not want to be surprised by the dish that is put in front of them. Don't get me wrong - it is very good, and hanger is a far tastier cut that the ubiquitous New York strip (the most highly overrated cut of beef, in my humble opinion) that every other place in the Market serves. Additionally, I have never seen hanger steak in a grocery store (they do sell it at Saslove's butcher shop, also in the Market), so take it where you can get it. But steak frites, even really good steak frites, is not exactly uncommon. But this is a restaurant where I once had roasted bone marrow - a bone, split lengthwise, seasoned and roasted and served with grilled bread to spread the unctuous, intensely beefy marrow upon. Other uncommon (for Ottawa) dishes that I have had there include corned beef tongue, frog legs, and a couple of different preparations of rabbit.
There are always several meatless options on the main menu, and often the soups are vegetarian as well. One of the current selections, ancient grains with crispy smoked tofu was interesting enough to get me to order a dish with tofu. The grains were great - a variety of colours, shapes and textures than made every bite a delight. And I didn't hate the tofu. The salads are always more interesting than the pile of greens for filler with a couple of choice bits you find in most non-veggie restaurants. Recent favourites of mine have included roasted beets with quinoa and last summer's tomato salad with jalapeno cheddar fritters. I am still asking them to bring back those fritters, or, Crispy Pillows of Delight, as I call them. I have also recently discovered that, in addition to the meatless options on the main menu, they also have a vegan menu. Basically, any restaurant that can make me like navy beans knows what to do with vegetables.
Today, I went for seafood.
Tuna tataki with sweet potato chips, edamame puree, and pickled onions. There was a bit of sake poured over the fish. This dish is subtle. It is not about in-your-face flavour. It is not a dish that buys your love with butter and fattiness. It is about restraint and contrast. The acid of the onion and sake against cool, largely raw tuna and freshness of the puree. The salty crunch and sweet finish of the sweet potato chip against the yielding flesh of the fish.
Dish two was seared scallops with sunchoke puree, snap peas, mushrooms, and pearl onions. Provided they can get good scallops, Play almost always has a scallop dish on the menu. The scallops are always seared perfectly. This particular dish has a richness, found in the combination of the sweet scallop and the sauteed mushrooms, and the sweet pearl onions. The richness is almost overpowering, until you bite into a crunchy snap pea, which cuts that intensity and gets you ready for that next bite.
I prefer to go for lunch (the same menu is served at dinner), because, 7 days a week, they have their lunch special. 2 plates for $20. For the quality, diversity and creativity, this place cannot be beat.
My very favourite restaurant in Ottawa is Play Food & Wine, located at the corner of York and Sussex in the Byward Market. I have lunch there almost every weekend. I take friends and family there when they visit, hoping that they love it as much as I do. What is it that keeps me coming back?
Well, it is in the name. Play. The approach to food here is playful. Joyful.
The atmosphere is bright and upbeat, with splashes of colour provided by the red crepe draping at the ceiling and the photography on the walls. Downstairs, you can sit at the bar, or at one of the warm wooden tables. Upstairs is at open kitchen with bar seating looking directly in, as well as banquette seating.
The staff is exceptional. The servers are friendly, sincere and knowledgeable, more than up to the task of answering questions about the menu and how the food is prepared. If they don't know the answer, they find it for you quickly. There does not seem to be a very high turnover of staff, which, to me, is a good sign.
But the main event is the food. Play serves small plates. 2 plates make a nice meal, or they're great for sharing.
The menu changes frequently. The only dish that has been on the menu since day 1 is the hanger steak. I consider that dish the concession to people who do not want to be surprised by the dish that is put in front of them. Don't get me wrong - it is very good, and hanger is a far tastier cut that the ubiquitous New York strip (the most highly overrated cut of beef, in my humble opinion) that every other place in the Market serves. Additionally, I have never seen hanger steak in a grocery store (they do sell it at Saslove's butcher shop, also in the Market), so take it where you can get it. But steak frites, even really good steak frites, is not exactly uncommon. But this is a restaurant where I once had roasted bone marrow - a bone, split lengthwise, seasoned and roasted and served with grilled bread to spread the unctuous, intensely beefy marrow upon. Other uncommon (for Ottawa) dishes that I have had there include corned beef tongue, frog legs, and a couple of different preparations of rabbit.
There are always several meatless options on the main menu, and often the soups are vegetarian as well. One of the current selections, ancient grains with crispy smoked tofu was interesting enough to get me to order a dish with tofu. The grains were great - a variety of colours, shapes and textures than made every bite a delight. And I didn't hate the tofu. The salads are always more interesting than the pile of greens for filler with a couple of choice bits you find in most non-veggie restaurants. Recent favourites of mine have included roasted beets with quinoa and last summer's tomato salad with jalapeno cheddar fritters. I am still asking them to bring back those fritters, or, Crispy Pillows of Delight, as I call them. I have also recently discovered that, in addition to the meatless options on the main menu, they also have a vegan menu. Basically, any restaurant that can make me like navy beans knows what to do with vegetables.
Today, I went for seafood.
Tuna tataki with sweet potato chips, edamame puree, and pickled onions. There was a bit of sake poured over the fish. This dish is subtle. It is not about in-your-face flavour. It is not a dish that buys your love with butter and fattiness. It is about restraint and contrast. The acid of the onion and sake against cool, largely raw tuna and freshness of the puree. The salty crunch and sweet finish of the sweet potato chip against the yielding flesh of the fish.
Dish two was seared scallops with sunchoke puree, snap peas, mushrooms, and pearl onions. Provided they can get good scallops, Play almost always has a scallop dish on the menu. The scallops are always seared perfectly. This particular dish has a richness, found in the combination of the sweet scallop and the sauteed mushrooms, and the sweet pearl onions. The richness is almost overpowering, until you bite into a crunchy snap pea, which cuts that intensity and gets you ready for that next bite.
I prefer to go for lunch (the same menu is served at dinner), because, 7 days a week, they have their lunch special. 2 plates for $20. For the quality, diversity and creativity, this place cannot be beat.
Friday, 19 July 2013
Losing My Prawn Head Virginity
Intrepid foodies,
As a child, I was not an adventurous eater. Coming from a decidedly WASP-y background, the food was plain, although that may have been more a function of the fact that I was one of four children, and adventurous meals were likely to be met with a four part harmony of whining. My parents' special occasion meals, things like jambalaya and boeuf bourguignon, suggest the blandness of our usual fare was not entirely their preference. On those special occasion evenings, I did not eat, because my mother was not one to make multiple dinners for children who did not know a good thing when they saw it. And coming from a small town that was just as WASP-y as I was, I did not encounter many new food ideas at my friends' houses. To my recollection, I did not try rice until I was in university because I didn't think it was something I would like. Yes, rice.
But university.... Once I was in the Big City (Ottawa), my horizons expanded. I tried rice. It wasn't bad. And if I had been wrong about rice, what else had I been missing out on? As it turns out, a lot. Over the next few years, with much help and encouragement from my friend, C, in particular, I branched out. And a foodie was born.
Now, there is little I dislike (except raisins; raisins are gross) and few things I have had the opportunity to try but can't bring myself to put in my mouth. But every so often I encounter something that gives me pause, something I have to steel myself to eat. Recently, I encountered one of those things.
I was in Vancouver, and I planned one night where I was going to splurge on the most magnificent seafood dinner I could find without bankrupting myself. I chose The Blue Water Cafe + Raw Bar.
I immediately started with a selection of pacific oysters while I considered my other options. The oysters were meatier that the east coast varieties I am more familiar with, and totally delicious. My knowledgeable and skilled server told me that the sushi special that evening was BC spot prawns, that the season was coming to a close, and that he highly recommended them. So I ordered one piece of sashimi, and one of sushi. As the server left to place the order, he said, "Oh, and by the way, we deep fry the heads and bring them to you on the side."
The heads. I knew from years of watching cooking competition shows like Iron Chef and Top Chef that the heads are sought after. People suck out their brains, considering them to be delicious, the very best part. But I wasn't sure I could do it. A curled pink shrimp tail, devoid of legs and eyes and tentacles is great. The head? The buggy-looking head? I wasn't sure I could do that, but remembering other pleasant surprises when I got over my childish squeamishness, I decided to give it a go.
The server taught me how to peel off the hard outer shell and horn. The rest is edible. The legs, the eyes, the feelers, the internal crunchy bits. I stared at those heads, and they stared back, daring me to take that first bite. The server did say to eat them while they were hot, so I chose one, faced it away from me (I just can't eat something while it is looking at me), dipped it in the wonderful, house made soy sauce, and took a bite before I changed my mind (I found them a little large to comfortably pop in my mouth whole).
It was crunchy, and collapsed under my teeth, as the internal cavities were breached by the force of my bite. There was liquid. Tasty liquid. Rich. There were meaty bits, tender and perfectly cooked. Overall, the taste had that stronger, organ-y flavour that reminded me a little of the tomalley of a lobster, a fatty richness that just isn't found in the sweet tails unless they're bathed in butter.
With that first bite taken, my squeamishness was gone, and I quickly polished off the remaining head and a half. Another culinary dragon slain, another notch on my gastronomic belt.
A few words on Blue Water Cafe + Raw Bar.... Highly recommend. Not cheap, but seafood restaurants rarely are (and if they are, you may want to think twice). For the quality, it is well worth it. In general, I find restaurants in Vancouver very noisy, and this was no exception, so it probably isn't the place for an intimate dinner. My main course was sablefish with miso sake glaze, baby bok choi, edamame, quinoa, mushrooms, and a bonito dashi broth with soy and yuzu. It was divine. I could have eaten a bowl of the broth alone. The fish was perfectly cooked - just slightly translucent. Really, the dish hit all the notes - contrasting textures, the umami taste of the dashi and soy, the soft, buttery fish, the slight crunch of the bok choi, the earthiness of the mushrooms and quinoa, the freshness and texture of the edamame. It was one of the most perfect dishes I have ever had.
And, of course, I took a picture.
As a child, I was not an adventurous eater. Coming from a decidedly WASP-y background, the food was plain, although that may have been more a function of the fact that I was one of four children, and adventurous meals were likely to be met with a four part harmony of whining. My parents' special occasion meals, things like jambalaya and boeuf bourguignon, suggest the blandness of our usual fare was not entirely their preference. On those special occasion evenings, I did not eat, because my mother was not one to make multiple dinners for children who did not know a good thing when they saw it. And coming from a small town that was just as WASP-y as I was, I did not encounter many new food ideas at my friends' houses. To my recollection, I did not try rice until I was in university because I didn't think it was something I would like. Yes, rice.
But university.... Once I was in the Big City (Ottawa), my horizons expanded. I tried rice. It wasn't bad. And if I had been wrong about rice, what else had I been missing out on? As it turns out, a lot. Over the next few years, with much help and encouragement from my friend, C, in particular, I branched out. And a foodie was born.
Now, there is little I dislike (except raisins; raisins are gross) and few things I have had the opportunity to try but can't bring myself to put in my mouth. But every so often I encounter something that gives me pause, something I have to steel myself to eat. Recently, I encountered one of those things.
I was in Vancouver, and I planned one night where I was going to splurge on the most magnificent seafood dinner I could find without bankrupting myself. I chose The Blue Water Cafe + Raw Bar.
I immediately started with a selection of pacific oysters while I considered my other options. The oysters were meatier that the east coast varieties I am more familiar with, and totally delicious. My knowledgeable and skilled server told me that the sushi special that evening was BC spot prawns, that the season was coming to a close, and that he highly recommended them. So I ordered one piece of sashimi, and one of sushi. As the server left to place the order, he said, "Oh, and by the way, we deep fry the heads and bring them to you on the side."
The heads. I knew from years of watching cooking competition shows like Iron Chef and Top Chef that the heads are sought after. People suck out their brains, considering them to be delicious, the very best part. But I wasn't sure I could do it. A curled pink shrimp tail, devoid of legs and eyes and tentacles is great. The head? The buggy-looking head? I wasn't sure I could do that, but remembering other pleasant surprises when I got over my childish squeamishness, I decided to give it a go.
The server taught me how to peel off the hard outer shell and horn. The rest is edible. The legs, the eyes, the feelers, the internal crunchy bits. I stared at those heads, and they stared back, daring me to take that first bite. The server did say to eat them while they were hot, so I chose one, faced it away from me (I just can't eat something while it is looking at me), dipped it in the wonderful, house made soy sauce, and took a bite before I changed my mind (I found them a little large to comfortably pop in my mouth whole).
It was crunchy, and collapsed under my teeth, as the internal cavities were breached by the force of my bite. There was liquid. Tasty liquid. Rich. There were meaty bits, tender and perfectly cooked. Overall, the taste had that stronger, organ-y flavour that reminded me a little of the tomalley of a lobster, a fatty richness that just isn't found in the sweet tails unless they're bathed in butter.
With that first bite taken, my squeamishness was gone, and I quickly polished off the remaining head and a half. Another culinary dragon slain, another notch on my gastronomic belt.
A few words on Blue Water Cafe + Raw Bar.... Highly recommend. Not cheap, but seafood restaurants rarely are (and if they are, you may want to think twice). For the quality, it is well worth it. In general, I find restaurants in Vancouver very noisy, and this was no exception, so it probably isn't the place for an intimate dinner. My main course was sablefish with miso sake glaze, baby bok choi, edamame, quinoa, mushrooms, and a bonito dashi broth with soy and yuzu. It was divine. I could have eaten a bowl of the broth alone. The fish was perfectly cooked - just slightly translucent. Really, the dish hit all the notes - contrasting textures, the umami taste of the dashi and soy, the soft, buttery fish, the slight crunch of the bok choi, the earthiness of the mushrooms and quinoa, the freshness and texture of the edamame. It was one of the most perfect dishes I have ever had.
And, of course, I took a picture.
Thursday, 18 July 2013
The Beast
Tomato lovers!
This year, for the first time, I have stepped outside of the comfort zone delineated by my little herb pots and decided to attempt tomatoes.
Full confession, I am not a gardener. Though I like pretty, well tended flower patches, I do not enjoy the work associated with them. In the past I have carefully planned and planted picturesque and fragrant flower gardens, each time swearing that this year it would be different. It has never been different. The novelty wears off; I get bored with the work. The garden becomes a tangled mess, where you can't see the flowers for the weeds. Finally, after years of failure, I have largely given up on flowers. But what to do with that sad little garden plot? Return my patio to the garden equivalent of builder's white by seeding grass? Wouldn't that be admitting irretrievable defeat?
Defeat? Never! If flowers don't work for me (although it is more accurate to say that I don't work for flowers), surely food will. The vegetable I love the most (yes, I know it is actually a fruit) is the tomato. So in early May, I went to a local nursery and carefully selected three plants: pineapple (an heirloom variety supposed to produce large yellow and red striped fruits), celebrity, and bonnie best.
I went home and planted them right away. "No," you shout, "Not in early May! Not in Ottawa!" But yes, that is what I did. The two most robust looking I put in what I thought to be the best location, getting the most sunlight possible on a patio that only gets partial sun, and the third, the runty one, a little off to the side, closer to the house. There were some tense times in those early days, as I anxiously went out in the chilly mornings to see if those poor tomatoes, disadvantaged by my naivete, survived the night. And they did. My hearty Ottawaan tomatoes were up to the challenge.
As the weather got warmer, and it rained (and rained, and rained), they started to grow. But an odd thing happened. The most robust in the beginning (I think it is the pineapple - foolishly, I didn't actually put the tags by the plants so I could keep them straight) did not keep pace. There is still no sign of blooms on this plant, in mid July. It is shorter than the others. The leaves are smaller. In all fairness, it is a plant that is supposed to produce later than the other two. This one, I have named Tiny.
The second tomato (which I suspect is the bonnie best) is everything I expect a tomato plant to be, and right now, she is industriously producing fruit to grow and ripen. Bonnie best is what my grandmother always planted, and when I think of how a tomato is supposed to taste, that is the taste in my memory. I have named her Goldilocks, because she is not too big, and not too small, but juuuuuusssst right.
And then there is The Beast.
This Beast stands 5 feet tall. She has completely outstripped her support system. I worry that she'll collapse under her own weight, particularly as the fruit get bigger. There are a few tomatoes coming along, though I am not sure how they will ever get enough sun to ripen, buried as they are in her shaded depths. I suppose it makes sense if this is the celebrity plant, because she is certainly the star of this garden.
I am anticipating my first fried green tomato in about a week, and my first homegrown caprese salad about a week after that.
This year, for the first time, I have stepped outside of the comfort zone delineated by my little herb pots and decided to attempt tomatoes.
Full confession, I am not a gardener. Though I like pretty, well tended flower patches, I do not enjoy the work associated with them. In the past I have carefully planned and planted picturesque and fragrant flower gardens, each time swearing that this year it would be different. It has never been different. The novelty wears off; I get bored with the work. The garden becomes a tangled mess, where you can't see the flowers for the weeds. Finally, after years of failure, I have largely given up on flowers. But what to do with that sad little garden plot? Return my patio to the garden equivalent of builder's white by seeding grass? Wouldn't that be admitting irretrievable defeat?
Defeat? Never! If flowers don't work for me (although it is more accurate to say that I don't work for flowers), surely food will. The vegetable I love the most (yes, I know it is actually a fruit) is the tomato. So in early May, I went to a local nursery and carefully selected three plants: pineapple (an heirloom variety supposed to produce large yellow and red striped fruits), celebrity, and bonnie best.
I went home and planted them right away. "No," you shout, "Not in early May! Not in Ottawa!" But yes, that is what I did. The two most robust looking I put in what I thought to be the best location, getting the most sunlight possible on a patio that only gets partial sun, and the third, the runty one, a little off to the side, closer to the house. There were some tense times in those early days, as I anxiously went out in the chilly mornings to see if those poor tomatoes, disadvantaged by my naivete, survived the night. And they did. My hearty Ottawaan tomatoes were up to the challenge.
As the weather got warmer, and it rained (and rained, and rained), they started to grow. But an odd thing happened. The most robust in the beginning (I think it is the pineapple - foolishly, I didn't actually put the tags by the plants so I could keep them straight) did not keep pace. There is still no sign of blooms on this plant, in mid July. It is shorter than the others. The leaves are smaller. In all fairness, it is a plant that is supposed to produce later than the other two. This one, I have named Tiny.
The second tomato (which I suspect is the bonnie best) is everything I expect a tomato plant to be, and right now, she is industriously producing fruit to grow and ripen. Bonnie best is what my grandmother always planted, and when I think of how a tomato is supposed to taste, that is the taste in my memory. I have named her Goldilocks, because she is not too big, and not too small, but juuuuuusssst right.
And then there is The Beast.
This Beast stands 5 feet tall. She has completely outstripped her support system. I worry that she'll collapse under her own weight, particularly as the fruit get bigger. There are a few tomatoes coming along, though I am not sure how they will ever get enough sun to ripen, buried as they are in her shaded depths. I suppose it makes sense if this is the celebrity plant, because she is certainly the star of this garden.
I am anticipating my first fried green tomato in about a week, and my first homegrown caprese salad about a week after that.
Wednesday, 17 July 2013
My Manifesto
Hello....
I love food. I love everything about it. Planning meals. Shopping for ingredients. Chopping, stirring, sauteeing, roasting, braising... (you get the idea). I choose vacations based on the food that most intrigues. I especially love eating in restaurants. And I love talking about food with fellow foodies.
But despite my love of all things food, I am not one who could cut it in the food industry. Oh, I can cook (or so I've been told), but the hours, the schedule, the heat, etc., are not my thing. My thing is writing.
I have been toying with the idea of marrying my two loves - food and writing - for a while now. With the encouragement of some friends, and wanting something other than my job as a government drone to think about, I am turning the idea into reality.
So, what am I going to write about? "Food" is a pretty broad topic, and there are lots of people writing about it. And the answer is.... I am am going to write about EVERYTHING:
I love food. I love everything about it. Planning meals. Shopping for ingredients. Chopping, stirring, sauteeing, roasting, braising... (you get the idea). I choose vacations based on the food that most intrigues. I especially love eating in restaurants. And I love talking about food with fellow foodies.
But despite my love of all things food, I am not one who could cut it in the food industry. Oh, I can cook (or so I've been told), but the hours, the schedule, the heat, etc., are not my thing. My thing is writing.
I have been toying with the idea of marrying my two loves - food and writing - for a while now. With the encouragement of some friends, and wanting something other than my job as a government drone to think about, I am turning the idea into reality.
So, what am I going to write about? "Food" is a pretty broad topic, and there are lots of people writing about it. And the answer is.... I am am going to write about EVERYTHING:
- Restaurant reviews - I am in Ottawa, Canada, so the restaurant posts will take a lot from this area, but I do travel, so it won't be exclusively Ottawa-based.
- Food-related book reviews.
- Thoughts on products.
- Thoughts on food TV shows.
- My own cooking adventures as I careen from one culinary obsession to another.
- Thoughts on ingredients - e.g., love pork belly; hate raisins. Raisins will get their own post at some later date. Pork belly probably will, too.
- Wine.
- My growing attachment to my first-ever tomato plants, currently taking over my tiny patio garden. Is it weird that I have named them?
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