sybarites

Our Valentine’s Day was Feb 13. My friend, Dave, was rolling through town on the next day to spend the night on our couch. He was driving from Vancouver to Halifax again.

Our Valentine’s meal was fantastic. We started with a Mushroom and Goat Cheese Strudel with Balsamic Syrup. We’ve made this a couple of times before. The sherry used to cook the mushrooms gives the dish a rich flavour. The goat cheese helps too, of course. The balsamic syrup was reduced too much, sticking the phyllo to the plate. I’ve done that before. Janet’s sharp plating made up for the extra work in scraping off the syrup and phyllo.

The port sauce on the hen required more work and time than any sauce we have ever made. The recipe was orginally for pan roasted quail, but we had to make some modifications after failing to find the quail and poultry bones. We started the sauce by roasting vegetables and chicken drumettes in the oven for an hour and a half. The roasted bones and browned juices gave the final sauce intense flavour, pleasantly complimenting the port and butter finish. This sauce was the best we have ever made, edging out the cranberry port sauce.

For sides, we made a Dried Apricot and Pine Nut Pilaf and Shredded Brussel Sprouts with Scallions. I keep saying I don’t like brussel sprouts, but I like them every time Janet makes them. Somehow they always taste mild. The lime juice gave this a slight tang and a pleasant brightness—quite good. The pilaf was also good. I had hoped for a bit more. The dried apricots made the rice slightly sweet. I’d make it again.

I did a marginal job on the Dark Chocolate Souffles. The chocolate base required some time on a double boiler after I forgot to chop the chocolate; the hot milk failed to melt the large chunks. I also didn’t know how to fold in egg whites. Janet made me try despite my protests and she didn’t complain about the result. It was ok, perhaps a bit more dense than intended.

We picked up a “special” bottle of wine, which wasn’t too special. It was under twenty dollars. The 2003 Burgundy, Hautes-Côtes de Beune, was satisfactory, though not in the same class as the 1999 Napanook cab Holly picked out for us at Wildwood. It was still a pleasant break from the unending drudgery that LoTengo and La Vieille Ferme have become.

This is a horrible, grey picture of breakfast; it does the omelette no favours. The reason it’s a lousy picture is because it was taken just a few seconds before we ate at the breakfast table in the sunshine and therefore did not have the usual benefit of the bright glow of the fluorescents nor the dark background of the kitchen countertops. Though warm and fuzzy, sunshine does not cut the mustard for picture taking.

A few months ago, we stopped making omelettes for breakfast. We had really gotten carried away with making them every weekend for about two months before they finally got a little tired. They were delicious while they lasted (we were partial to herb omelettes with garlic, shallots and parmesan, and maple elk sausages on the side) but it had gone on long enough. Recently, we experienced a revival of the omelettes; both hungry on Sunday, with two pots of young, spindly herbs growing in the kitchen windowsill, I lapsed into omelette mode. From the fridge, I extracted a couple of handfuls of fresh herbs, eggs and a hunk of parmesan. As I was chopping the parsley and thyme, I couldn’t help but think of the Simon and Garfunkel song and then realized that we actually had the last two lyrics of the chorus in the windowsill. Ergo, Scarborough Fair Omelettes. How adorable.

Slowly, I am getting better and better at making these things. I once heard a local chef say that you could measure a cook’s skill by how well he/she makes a simple omelette. So, of course, this is something I took to heart and have been trying to perfect. Tri-folded, not browned, still a tiny bit runny in the middle, fluffy and flavourful: this is what I try to achieve with each one (except the ones I make for Marc because he doesn’t like any runniness when it comes to eggs). After making quite a few, I find the biggest challenges are a) not browning – sometimes the pan is slightly too hot which browns the butter and then the omelette – and, b) flipping them in the pan to cook the runniness away. Part B, I blame on our pan because the edges are too sharply angled to get a really good, mid-air, one-handed, flapjack-style flip out of it. Part A is just timing and stovetop fickleness and shall remain my challenge ever more.

Someday, I will win the omelette smackdown.

My second interpretation of the master curry recipe from America’s Test Kitcken’s wasn’t nearly as good as the original. This one used the whole spice blend, yogurt instead of tomatoes, zucchini and peas instead of potatoes, and shrimp instead of lamb. There were too few shrimp and too much zucchini. It came out like a zucchini stew with mushy curry spinach sauce.

The leftover yogurt sauce and the basmati gave it a bit more depth. We spent a lot of time picking cardamom pods, cloves and peppercorns out of the final meal. The recipe didn’t say anything about taking them out, and I couldn’t decide when would be a good time. They hid in the final dish and Jan got an unpleasant flavour burst of cardamom.

While at the grocery store I had a craving for Kraft Dinner. I volunteered to eat it while Janet was away for the weekend, but it seemed that she had the same craving. We ate it that day for lunch.

I have a scientific approach to cooking KD, while Jan’s a free-style girl. I cook the pasta for exactly seven minutes, otherwise it’s too mushy. I usually use a little extra butter which must be melted in the microwave to to keep the pasta hot—same with the milk. Everything must be measured.

Since the last time I made KD, Kraft added a second set of “healthy” instructions to cut down on the amount of fat. They suggest to use 1/3 of the butter and add more non-fat milk. If I’m polluting my body with processed food, why would I do that?

As much as I was craving KD, I still expected to be somewhat disgusted when eating it. It was actually a pleasant and satisfying experience. I would like to say that it brought back warm memories of childhood, but my days of bachelorhood were fresher in my mind.

Last week, on the very cusp of the release of the new Michelin Guide, we made a decidedly simple supper of Cheese and Salami Salad Sandwiches. The only thing Michelin-y about this meal is that the onions we used in the salad are red and the book has a red cover. But we laced the sandwiches with arugula which poshed them up a bit.

There is an interesting post on another blogger’s site commenting on an article written about the release of the new publication. The article was fairly à propos for me as I am nearly finished reading The Perfectionist: Life and Death in Haute Cuisine which describes the life and death of Bernard Loiseau, a 3-Star chef who suffered from bipolar disorder and sadly committed suicide upon the loss of one of his stars. The book has proved really fascinating to me and enlightening in terms of the culture and history of French cuisine. Plus, I am now able to recognize some names of prominent chefs of the past and know more about the big name chefs of today- their background, influences, inspirations, styles.

The blogger, Pim, provides some insight into the serious foodie world as she lives in San Francisco and has an enviable lifestyle which involves traveling for work and she is, therefore, able to actually visit some of the restaurants in the guide. Meanwhile, I shall continue to pine away in coldest Canada (it is snowing outside my office window as I type this.) In her comments, and in the article itself, I find myself particularly curious about the choice some chefs are making nowadays to “dumb down” the cuisine and focus less on obtaining a macaroon (as the Michelin stars are nick-named) and more on providing client-friendly food and atmosphere. I’ve never been to an étoil-ed restaurant (though sometime, before I die, I will have!) so I really don’t have an understanding of what, exactly, makes these restaurants so special– written like a true plebian. I would imagine that half of the refinements which elevate an establishment above its peers would be lost on me. Still, I am curious enough to put it on my life’s to do list.

At any rate, our meal was very pretty, though a little heavy on the red wine vinegar. When I make this again, it will be with smoked Gouda, instead of plain, and with fewer capers, as well.

[ed. this is the first time EVER that we have written and posted simultaneously for the same meal. Crazy.]

Behold! Cheese, in all its cheesy, glorious glory! I think that if I were to start a religion, it would be based on the worship of cheese. Pictured at left are the earthly incarnations of the Cheese that we ate last week for dinner.

[Note: we had actually planned a real meal but Marc lost money on his Google stocks and to feel better, he suggested that we eat cheese.]

One definition that I found on the Interweb says that religion is “a cause, principle, or activity pursued with zeal or conscientious devotion.” Ergo, the activity that I pursue with zeal and conscientious devotion is the eating of The Cheese. Ha!

In my religion, most of the deadly sins would be reversed and revered as holy behaviour in relation to The Cheese: Lust for, Gluttony involving, Avarice towards, Wrath of not having, Pride of having eaten, Envy of others eating, Sloth as a result of having eaten. The Holy Trinity would be The Milk, The Rind and The Mighty Bacteria. Cows would be holy, same for sheep and goats. We would not eat them and would decorate them with leis of flowers. Reincarnation is out; the caste system is out. But maybe long ago in a galaxy far, far away, someone might have obtained Nirvana whilst sitting under the Bo tree and eating cheddar.

What elevated this dinner to super-holy was the crackers. They are a dark and be-seeded variety made by Rainforest; I’ve only ever seen them for sale at Janice Beaton and at the Cookbook Company. They are very crisp and have sweet, sort of molasses flavour that is dead brilliant with a soft cheese, like Brebiou Pur Brebis. (I haven’t been able to find that cheese in my Encyclopedia of Cheese though, so maybe it is a variety specific to Canada. Might have to do some cheese research.) Also, this evening of worship included Marc’s first attempt at home-made ciabatta bread (which, incidentally, he CANNOT say without adding an extra “–batta” to the end). I know it did not meet his high standard of excellence in the art of bread, but it tasted pretty good to me and provided a very effective medium of getting pâté from knife to mouth. The congregants of my religion would live short, but very sweet, lives.

Last week I had an urge to eat cheese, an urge originating in Jan’s training of my palette. I had finally cashed in a gift certificate from the cookbook company, which I received as a present in 2004, for Raincoast Crisp crackers. There was also bread left over from my first bread baking experience.

This all led to the need for a few cheeses and a paté from Janice Beaton. The Brebious Pur Brebis, a French sheeps milk cheese, is now one of our favorites. I can’t quite recall the name of the other two. One was a hard cheese which had just arrived at the store and the other a goat’s milk cheese. Jan could better describe the cheeses. I also picked up the Terrine de Foie with Pink Peppercorns—a little fatty organ meat to finish off the plate.

I had intended to eat this as a little snack. It replaced supper.

This is the first post with our new blog. Blogger was a great introduction, but WordPress gives us a lot more options. Particularly, I’m looking forward to using tags. Should you want to look at food postings only, you can click “Food” in the right nav. The image editing and wysiwyg editor are quite impressive too.

While Jan was away over the weekend, I went bread crazy. I made the same ciabatta as last week with a few apricots thrown into the mix. I forgot to coat them in flour after I boiled them, but it worked out ok.

Bob’s Restaurant Bread was nearly a disaster. After spending ten minutes kneading the dough, I realized the second set of yeast was still sitting on the counter. In an attempt to salvage the dough, I mixed the yeast with a small amount of water and worked it into the dough. Miraculously, everything worked fine.

I nearly ruined the tuna sandwiches as well by chopping cilantro instead of parsley. This turned out to be a happy accident. We usaully make tuna sandwiches by going through the fridge for odd bottles and leftovers to mix together. This one had tuna, mayo, créme fraîche, capers, cilantro, celery, basil, garlic and sun dried tomatoes—super tasty.

Update: Comments can now be made without having an account. Thanks to Faith for the note.

I had never made bread before. Of course, I never pick the easiest recipes. If it’s not bakery artisan bread, it’s not worth making. Epicurious has a recipe for ciabatta that only requires two days and only one ingredient we didn’t have, bread flour. I thought the few dregs of semolina flour would be sufficient.

The instructions called for a standing mixer, which we don’t have. The dough was much drier than the recipe stated on day one and much wetter before it went into the oven. After sitting in the fridge overnight it was suppose to look like thick oatmeal instead of hard dough.

In the end the bread was tasty, though a little heavy and not quite the right texture. Some of the hard dough bits turned into soft, dense spots. I planned to have the bread finished for the salami and cheese sandwiches which we had for supper—not even close. It made a nice snack in bed when buttered and a great sandwich with Tuscan ham, arugula and Gouda for lunch.

For Christmas, Makela was gifted with the latest version of Cranium™. Unfortunately, she was the only one in her family with any desire to actually play the game. Lucky for her, she has nerds for friends (i.e. us) who offered to host a little wine-tasting-and-hors-d’oeuvres affair with Cranium™ on the side.

I had the day off that Friday so happily spent my day cooking away in the kitchen. The night before, I designed a menu of small foods upon which we could graze as we played. I was inspired by an episode of Behind the Bash on Food Network which profiled a ridiculously expensive wedding (the dress alone cost $13,000 USD) where adorable mini-foods were served. I am enamoured of the mini-foods! There were tiny grilled cheese sandwiches for which mini loaves of bread were baked, sliced and then layered with gruyère and individually fried; there were mini-cheeseburgers(!) with specially prepared mini-poppy seed rolls that were baked and dressed with little lettuce, a slice of a cherry tomato, a wee, grilled beef burger and an appropriately draped slice of cheese; and baby pies, complete with latticed-pastry top, which looked like cartoon pies that one could eat in two bites. To say that the labour involved in making this $700USD per person meal was exhausting is an understatement. But I was inspired to make a meal of finger foods!

So, whilst [quite competitively*] playing a couple of rounds of the board game, we grazed our way through
Chickpea, Garlic and Parsley Dip with toasted pita chips,
Crostini with Spiced Crab and Shrimp Salad,

Skewered Marinated Flank Steak,

Blue Cheese, Walnut and Cranberry Crostinis,
Spicy Shrimp Wrapped in Snow Peas,

Sliced Chicken Salad with Chili-Ginger Vinaigrette,
Caramelized Onion Tartlets with Crème Fraîche,

and Cardamom Applesauce with whipped cream. All of these things turned out just as I had envisioned; I will definitely be making them again. Plus, I think my efforts to produce five low-cal dishes out of eight was quite gallant, rather. (At least for my own sake- I knew I was bound to eat way too much so at least I could take a stab at tempering the damage.)

I have since recreated the blue cheese crostinis and the chickpea dip, both of which received excellent reviews at their respective appearances. Their simple recipes make me seem more clever than I am as they are simple enough to recite from memory; they shall maintain permanent residence in my grey-matter database.

We drank some form of white wine (sadly, this detail is lost), La Vieille Ferme, LoTengo, and, so as to improve our board-game-playing-skills, a glass of Maple Whiskey from La Belle Province. Makela and I “improved our skills” a little too much and disastrously lost at Taboo, a phenomenon heretofore UNIMAGINABLE. I demand a [sober] rematch. At which I will serve mini-grilled cheese sandwiches.

* before we started, Andrea had to clarify several rules of play because “some people I play with change the rules as they go”. This would seem strange but I think these are the same people who play Ultimate Frisbee; collectively, they represent a new level of competitiveness.