We are all in it together ...

About a week and a half ago I found out that people in Japan were reading this blog. It was the first time dish. had reached Japan and it was in the middle of the crisis. It amazed me.

Every evening since the tsunami hit Japan, I have been watching the news and reading newspapers. Throughout the day, during class breaks, I read online and constantly follow the plight of my fellow humans. It sounds strange to say but it's true. I have been watching the videos, watching the people on the ground, watching stories of hope, love, loss and most recently, stories of fear about the nuclear crisis compounding an already grave situation. It one of the first periods in history where we have such constant, abundant, shocking, detailed and almost instant coverage of such a catastrophe. I could not take my eyes off of what was happening right in front of me.

It made me remember a few things, left me to ponder others and lifted my soul. It made me remember that nature is a force that has been relatively gracious with humans so far. It made me remember that no matter how advanced we are, our things are flimsy. It left me to ponder the ramifications of such a catastrophe and how other countries facing similar situations in the future will go about "safeguarding" their people. It also lifted my soul in the most magnificent way. It was seeing people being kind to one another, helping one another, giving their last piece of food to an elder, waiting patiently and harmoniously in long lines and most poignantly changing their greeting of Konnichiwa (hello) to We are all in it together...hang on ... that did it.

This little gesture of humanity filled my eyes with joyous, compassionate tears and connected me with all these people on the other side of the world. My fellow humans. Still sounds strange. Still true.

We are all in a fragile place right now. We are all in it together...hang on ...

Traditional Japanese Nagamono ながもの (Udon) noodles for good luck

Here is what you need...

• 1 Tbsp salt
• 1 lb. wheat flour
• 1 cup of warm water
• 4 cups dashi stock
• 2 tablespoons of shoyu
• 2 tablespoons of mirin
• scallions, sliced thinly

Here is what to do...

1. Dissolve the salt in a cup of warm water, stirring a little to help it along. Then mix flour and water, adding a little of each at a time. Once a doughy consistency has been reached, take out and on a floured surface, knead until soft.
2. Place in a bowl, cover with moist towel and let it sit for one hour. Then knead once more, cover and let it sit, once more, for a half an hour.
3. When ready, dust a large smooth surface with flour and roll the dough to a little less than 1/4 inch thick. Dust the top of the dough with flour and fold in half gently so as not to have the dough stick. Then cut the dough, folded, into 1/4 inch strips.
4. In the meantime, bring a pot of water to a rapid boil and then lower the noodles in for about 10 to 20 minutes or until they are tender (stir periodically with chopsticks to make sure they aren’t sticking).Once the noodles are tender, drain through the colander and rinse gently in cold water. Make sure to shake of excess water and to rinse the noodles until they are completely cool.
5. Now add your dashi, shoyu, mirin and scallions and send all your good wishes to all those that need them.

Original 3.24.11

Yes, it involves tree parts ...

Okay, I am going to just come right out and say it. I am enamoured with all fruits, vegetables and sometimes twigs and pits fermented, aged, brewed and distilled for our lovely consumption.

To put it less delicately, I love my drinks. Love. Wine, beer, scotch, gin, rum, vodka (I am going to stop here for fear of filling the page). Everything about the things we ferment appeals to me. Particular aromas, diverse flavours, myriad colors, tantalising scents, variable viscosity's, the countless combinations of spirits and the history behind every culture's particular spirit and how(why) it came to be, all bring me great joy.

I love the tasting ritual, the pairing with food to bring out various subtleties, the shopping for glasses that will bring out the very best in each spirit to make it more pleasing to the nose and palate. The communal gathering of friends to talk, laugh and share various spirits with. The occasional evenings with a perfect, ice cold, blessed Hendricks martini, all on my own. Green olives please. With pits.

Blessed Hendrick's ...1.75 Liters ...it's not a typo ...

All said, since it is St. Patrick's day today and we all know what that means (for those of you who would actually like to know who St. Patrick is see below, after drink recipe) I wanted to share a lovely drink recipe with you.

Yes, I have a St. Patrick`s drink recipe.

Yes, it involves tree parts ...




Tree parts ...and mini rosebuds ...

Time to drink ... ahem ...dish.  ...I meant, time to dish.  ...

Ladies and gentlemen, the honorable Emerald Presse a la dish.



The honorable Emerald Presse ...

Here is what you need ...

• John Jameson Irish Whiskey (amount: your discretion, I have a heavy hand ...)
• Two to three ounces of Elderflower syrup
• Limes
• Cedar tree "leaves" (rosemary needles if you do not want to bother ...but you should ...)
• Mini rosebuds (optional but so pretty and adds a touch of sweetness if you can find them)
• Very fizzy mineral water

Here is what to do ...

1. Bruise Cedar "leaves" in a mortar and pestle to release aroma and oils. Then in a glass with ice, add all the ingredients including the Cedar leaves and rosebuds, mix and enjoy.
2. Have at least two.
3. Maybe three ...it is St. Patrick's day after all ...to honor the Irish, long live!

Okay so here is the lowdown on St. Patrick:

• Saint
• Patrick
• Catholic
• Lived long ago (400ish AD)
• Born in Britain
• Captured, enslaved and brought back to Ireland by Irish raiders (curve ball yes? who knew?)
• Escaped
• Returned (#%!???)
• Preached (as free man) for 30 years
• Original St. Patrick's color was blue
• No one knows when or why it changed
• No one knows when it went from obligatory church festival to booze infused debauchery
• The Catholic church is trying to reclaim it
• I think the drunks will win

Original 3.17.11

Vicia faba, meet readers ...

Today I let in a little spark of hope. A tiny glimmer of spirit came out of hibernation and contemplated the possible arrival of spring. As I sit and work with trusty assistant Napa, I peek outside. Outside, the snow is melting and the sidewalks peer through. The birds are back with their beautiful songs. And, this is the major indicator here, I could swear that through the open window, I smell the faintest hint of dog poo. Trusty assistant Napa ... Ever so gingerly, I then began to ponder the next six months. The upcoming seasons. Why you ask? What does it mean? Well dear readers, it means that for the next six months, yours truly will be as wide eyed, as delighted and as prancy (yes, I did just say prancy) as a baby lamb set free in a vast, rolling flower meadow. It means that markets will be frequented with fervor, purveyors and farmers consulted for our daily menu and bountiful produce revered. It means endless, glorious, awesome gatherings around tables with loved ones. It means that I am happy. To celebrate the possibility of spring, I would like to introduce you to a delicate, lovely gem which is symbolic of growth and regeneration with the arrival of spring. Dear readers, I present to you, Vicia faba (also known as Fava bean). Vicia faba, meet readers. (Picture it ...Vicia faba ... no photo due to using them all up and forgetting to photograph them for post, blaming horrible memory ...) Mini about faba: In Quebec, the lovely fava grows best in the Saguenay-Lac Saint-Jean region which suits its desire for a cooler climate. This not so little pulse first originated in the Mediterranean over 8000 years ago and travelled to Quebec with Louis Hebert in 1618. Why do I know this you ask? Because at heart I am a research geek (erudit.org for this one, try not to laugh at me too hard yes?). It is incredibly good for you, and, incredibly tasty. Time to dish. This is a gorgeous recipe from BBC Food - A cook's year in France - adapted dish. style. Elegant Fava & Spinach soup Here is what you need ... 2 big glugs of olive oil - yes I said glugs, you know what I mean... a generous knob of butter - yes I said knob, you know what I mean... one bunch of spring onions, finely chopped 2 pounds of fresh fava beans 1 spring potato, finely diced 1 liter of tasty vegetable stock 1 cup of cream or full fat milk 2 handfuls of baby spinach 1 handful of sorrel leaves - this is optional but so worth it lot's of your favorite lovely goat's cheese fragrant Tarragon to garnish Here is what to do ... Pull lovely favas out of their pods. Then, in a pot, heat oil and butter together and add the spring onion. Once the onion has softened, add the potato and continue to sautee for two to three minutes. Then add the stock, salt and pepper, bring to a boil and reduce the heat to a simmer. Cook for twenty minutes or until the beans are tender. Remove from the heat and add the young spinach and sorrel reserving a few beautiful leaves for garnish. Using an immersion blender (or a regular one) blend the soup until smooth but still slightly bumpy. Plate, add the goats cheese, place under broil to melt slightly, remove, garnish with spinach, sorrel and tarragon and enjoy with crusty bread drizzled with olive oil. Original 3.13.11

The book ...

It is gray and snowy outside today. Soft. Pretty. John Coltrane croons in the kitchen as I type (we just purchased a new table/island for the kitchen and I am in heaven. It will be my new office!).

In between watching Napa watching ants and pruning the new addition to our family (a portly ficus microcarpa) I am working on the book this morning.

The new addition to our family ...

I can’t seem to call it my book (I've tried, several times). I suppose it does not seem quite real. It feels more like I am going through various processes. Strolling down memory lane, winding through over a decade of food magazines is my first step on this journey (besides myriad notes on the closest surfaces available– napkins, posties, envelopes, paper bags, receipts, tissues, sometimes regular paper).

I have hundreds of food magazines dear readers. I can instantly spot my favorites through the years. You know the ones that are the most crumpled, stained, torn and creased from enthusiastic messy use.

Going through them will take me a while. I am looking forward to it. Remembering the moments that these recipes brought me, the discoveries, the techniques, the adventures, the grimaces (as in this morning when I spotted a lesson from Italy on how to clean squid which I found a touch … graphic).

At the same time, I am organizing the thousands upon thousands of pictures of food that I have snapped over the years and finding that reminiscing agrees with me. It reconnects me somehow. I am going to make it a point to do it more often.

Time to dish.

This is one of my most loved recipes adapted from La Cucina's “Truffles” feature.

Raviolone con tuorlo e robiola

Large ravioli with egg yolk and robiola

God bless hairy truffle sniffing pigs ...

Hairy truffle  sniffing pigs ...blessed ...

Here is what you need …

• Store bought fresh lasagna sheets (original recipe calls for making your own ravioli dough but I was too lazy that day)
• (Also, if you must, you can use bought thin, wonton wrappers, they work surprisingly well for other ravioli dishes)
• 6 ounces robiola fresca (cheese dears, cheese)
• 6 farm eggs
• 4 tablespoons of butter
• 1 ounce fresh Perigord Truffle (heavens catch me)
• 6 tablespoons of freshly grated Parmigiano-Regianno
• Freshly ground white pepper
• Parchment paper dusted with flour (one piece for each square, you will see why …)

Here is what to do …

1. Crack your eggs into a bowl. Tenderly please.
2. Flour your surface and roll out your cheaters fresh lasagna sheets until they are nice and thin. Just imagine being able to see that gorgeous yolk…
3. Cut into four inch ravioli squares.
4. Place each square on your dusted parchment paper.
5. Place robiola in the center of your square making a little nest for your egg to come.
6. Gingerly scoop up an egg yolk with your hands and place it in the robiola nest.
7. Dab the edge of your square with water (water acts as glue for your top piece).
8. Place a ravioli square atop the loveliness below and seal tightly.
9. Dust with flour and repeat for remaining squares.

10. Now, in a large skillet, add 1 ½ inches of water. Add sea salt and bring to a boil and then reduce the heat so it is not at a rolling boil (this intensity will be too much for your tender pasta and will break it apart).
11. Working in batches, gently, gingerly, tenderly, as if it was your first born, slide your ravioli, yolk side up, into the pan. Do not turn it over, do not overcook. About two minutes will do.

12. Using a slotted spoon, transfer your ravioli into a welcoming plate, drizzle with melted butter, add grated truffle, sprinkle with Parmigiano and white pepper and bite into oozy, warm buttery, peppery, earthy truffle heaven.

Original 3.6.11

Creative ideas ...

Well dear readers, this past week (+) has been a stuffy one. Literally. I have been couch-bound at home with sinuses and a nose so stuffed and pressurized I felt as if buildings were situated on my face. This past week has also left me with questions about the context and content of dish.

When my fever broke long enough for lucid thought to emerge, I wondered, how is one to have a culinary adventure under these circumstances (said circumstances being barely able to lift hot fevery hand for more tissues to blow a very tender runny nose)? You see, there are two things at play in my life currently. One, when I write this blog, for the most part, it is in real time. I am not a blog writer that has been able to gather stories and then distribute as needed. Yet. Also (and frankly), my memory is not that great and inspiration plays a great (huge big) deal in what I write (a tad tricky to seek and find inspiration when you can barely breathe). The second, is that when I get sick with a cold, I get real sick. It has been like this as far back as I remember. When other kids were fighting a bit of a cough or fever for a day or so I was out cold (no pun intended) for two weeks. In my teenage years it was bronchitis that had me sacked for weeks at a time and in my adult life it is my sinuses that keep me couch-bound for, you guessed it, weeks at a time (usually two).

Anyhow, medical history aside, as I write this, still sick and sniffly (it has only been a week after all and we have another one to go) and given above mentioned life circumstances, I have some thinking to do in terms of content and direction and I would love, appreciate and be grateful for your creative ideas.

Here is where I ask for your input.

For times like these, times where culinary adventures are less concentrated and sometimes tiny and beautiful, what should I write about? What would you like to read about? What are you interested in knowing? What would inspire you?

It would mean a great deal to me to know your thoughts and ideas so don't be shy. For those comment shy individuals (you know who you are) you can comment under anonymous or just e-mail me directly at dishchronicles@gmail.com.

Now, as you can imagine, I have been consuming mostly broth, oranges, mugs of hot water and avocado on toast (thank you Aksel) for the last week or so and could not taste for a part of it.

This being the case, I end this humble post offerring you a few gratuitous pictures of what I hope to be consuming soon.

Wine damn it!

Some lamb ...

Porcini mushroom soup ...

With grated parmesan ...crisps ...

Original 2.28.11

The assassin, the fish, the outcome & the lessons ...

The assassin:

Well, the pseudo assassin, if you will. I ordered the hit...

The fish:

Carp ...

The reason (not in title ...would just be too long ...): 

Existential crisis (ish)...

The outcome:

A few weeks ago dear readers, I was on the telephone with my fishmonger and out comes Carp!... I was about to say bless you when he tells me in an unusually animated manner that he has a treat for me. What is it! I ask in a very usual animated manner. I have a delivery of live Carp coming in on Friday morning ..... Yes! What time?! I ask. Around ten says he. I’ll be there.

I, had just ordered a fish hit.

Hence dear readers, ten o’clock Friday morning finds me in fish shop, slightly nauseated but ready (or so I thought) facing a very eager fishmonger waiving me along frantically.

Come come! You must see him come out of the water!!, says he (again with the unusually animated voice). Wavering smile on, off I went to the back of the empty fish shop (I mean where were all the people for heavens sake! It was like the old corral where you are about to see dueling pistols go at it and all that roll by are tumbleweeds! Not that I have ever been to an old corral mind you but you just know what that’s like …) to witness them “taking” my fish out of the tank.

I was prepared for a civilized pair of hands extracting a civilized fish out of …well …civilized water (how uncivilized can a fish tank be after all).

Then: A scuffle, a big commotion, simultaneous Portuguese and Kashmir curses and …whap! Right before my disbelieving eyes, a fish catapults out of the tank (more on this later) right at my fishmonger and his “apprentices”! More commotion and what are you doing?! and give me that bucket! and what a strong fish?! and so on... meanwhile …whap! whap! whap! is all I am hearing from that bucket.

Then, whap whap whap goes Carp in a plastic bag being weighed and, weighing done, Carp comes back out of bag, whap whap whap on steel counter, and finally …the mortal wound (it was very difficult and profound and I was acutely and sadly aware of extinguishing a life). I will spare you the gory (they were) details but let us just say there was whacking, gutting and a swim bladder involved … 

Not Carp. Dolphin fish. Why, you ask? Was too scared to take picture of whapping Carp ...

Scaling and gutting (slight nauseated heave) complete I think the worst is over. But no dear readers. The fish is still moving. I repeat, the fish is still moving! At this point I was close to fainting and the only thing I could think of (as the three men stood, looking right at me all smiling and nodding approvingly and saying good fish, fresh fish, strong fish!) was is this poor fish dead? So, I ask.

Of course it’s dead! These are just nerve impulses! The freshest fish always move after they have been killed! he says. Are you sure?! I say as this man who has been fishing for the last 35 years looks at me patiently. Yes yes, don’t worry he says. Well, how long does it keep moving like that? I ask (ready to heave). Ten minutes he says. Are you sure?! I say, again. Yes yes, don’t worry…

Omg.

Paranoia alert: For twenty years dear readers, I have battled fish paranoia. I have not been able to go near a whole, uncooked fish with a head on because my biggest fear was that it would “wake up” or start moving. After persuading myself it was irrational (against many vehement objections to myself), that I had nothing to worry about, said paranoia was quashed in the last 4 years. Now I am able to rub fish in oil, face and all and even stuff its little body cavity on occasion. So what was happening right in front of my nauseated face, in essence, was my worst nightmare and I had to take it in the car! End paranoia alert.

I took a deep (did I mention nauseated?) breath, grabbed the bag, thanked the men, and went to the car. I debated on where I was going to put that bag because I had visions of this Carp springing up on me from the back seat (see lessons) when I was driving and then it would be all over. So I decided to put it in the front, on the ground, where I could keep an eye on it. I had some more shopping to do so I parked a few streets up, went into the shop, and came out forty five minutes later.

Groceries nestled snuggly in car, I then went to shift the Carp over because I needed to make space for something and then, it happened. The bag moved. A lot (or at least it seemed that way for a fish that had no innards!)! Forty five minutes later!!! I instantly screamed, jumped out of the car, slammed the door shut and waited to faint or for the fish to whap whap whap all over the car… whichever would come first …

Picture this dear readers, me, standing outside the car, alone, in the middle of a busy street and a snowstorm, arms crossed, staring down at the front seat, freaking out …

Yes …

After ten minutes of this, I was finally able to talk myself into getting back in the car with the rationale that I was being, well, slightly irrational and that most likely this fish would not start flapping all over the car while I was driving and that if it did, I could just scream and jump out of the car (because this is more rational yes?). So I sidled into the car, and held my breath.

I drove home with one eye on the road and one eye on the fish.

The lessons …

1. I have never appreciated a fish more in my life. Dear readers, we ate every morsel of this fish until it was just bones (Aksel ate the head ..slight shudder …). We were incredibly thankful and grateful.

2. My fishmonger is full of it. Ten minutes my a#*! I of course, went back the following week to tell him that the fish was moving after forty five minutes and the next thing I hear from his apprentice is: “Of course, Carp is one of the strongest fish out there (what?!) it can move for hours after it is freshly killed because its blood is strong as are the nerve impulses. It is a common thing with fresh fish. I have heard of Tuna that had been gutted, frozen for hours, thawed and started flapping around (oh. my. God.) fish are weird, ha ha ha …” Right. Thank you.

3. Google is never good, after the fact. All I have to say dear readers, is that I googled fish moving after being killed and wished I hadn’t. And then, sure enough, I was watching River Monsters (I know this probably does not help my fish paranoia) and what do I see dear readers? What do I see? I see Carp. Countless Carp catapulting themselves out of the water and whacking fishermen in the head on their boats while the presenter is laughing and saying in his posh British accent: “this is perfectly normal as Carp are very strong fish and some of them have even been known to break the ribs of fishermen, ouhh, watch out, whap! ha ha ha …” and all the while, the head smacking shot is being replayed, over and over again, in slow motion …

4. Carp are strong fish.

5. Fish are weird.

Time to dish.

Strong head whacking Carp with lemon and dill

Not Carp but identically prepared wild Sea Bass. Why, you ask? Because I was too scared to take a picture of cooked Carp...

Here is what you need …

• Carp – dead or alive - if alive you're on your own for prep
• Lemon – zest and slices
• Olive oil
• Bunch of dill
• Bulgarian Feta - sliced
• Cracked pepper
• Backfat - sliced

Here is what to do ...

1. Thank your fish for being on your plate while looking adoringly into its eyes (what?!). Then, score its little sides (for increased flavor permeation and cooking time) and rub all over with the lemon zest and olive oil.
2. Stuff its little body cavity with the lemon slices, creamy Bulgarian feta slices, backfat slices and lots and lots of  beautiful dill.

Roast (high heat). Extract (carefully).  Enjoy (with a loved one and a crisp white).

Extended existential for those who have made it this far: 

Being the urban dweller (with the soul of a tribesperson) that I am, for the last two years (ish) I have been spending a little time in the existential realm of food and mankind. Thoughts have been gingerly tiptoeing through my mind (I will spare you… for now…uaaaaagghhhh…insert me here sinisterly rubbing my palms together…). Countless books on  humans/food/land/animals/science have made their way into our home. I will spear you the dredge that I have been crawling through (for now …insert above slightly nutty parenthesis here for the rest) but for our purpose today let us just say that I had decided that if I was capable of eating fish then I should be brave enough to participate (ish) in what it takes to go from water to plate. Context out, roger that...



Original date on dish chronicles 2.15.11

Enjoy in wool socks ...

Disclosure: I have somehow managed to sprain my neck (am convinced it has something to do with inhuman cold) and am writing slightly … medicated. Off we go!

Inhuman cold ... deceptively pretty ... and cold ... mostly cold ...inhuman ...

For the last two weeks dear readers, I have been existing in an icebox (in two provinces!). No, no … an icebox would be balmy ... I have been existing in a piercing, biting, nose sticking together, eyes barely blinking cold that the glaciers would be jealous of. I mean, temperatures have reached minus forty. Minus forty. Plus … windchill. I shudder …

I ask you, how is any rational person supposed to participate in anything other than burying themselves under a huge duvet, steaming mug of spiked tea in hand, peeking out of said duvet and staring at the frostbitten windows, suspicious of a cold relentless draft you know is coming from somewhere and cursing the frost god’s.

No? Just me? Maybe …

All this to say dear readers, for the last two weeks, my culinary adventures have consisted of hibernating in our home in Montreal with a short hiatus of hibernating at Germain in Toronto sprinkled with a brief stint discussing a Philippine delicacy of field rats (big ones, which have to be hunted, skinned and deep fried and served piping hot with a spicy sauce …) with Ariel, who works at Germain and sent me home with two of his mothers recipes (not for field rats) which I will make once I thaw.

This brings us (somehow) to what I love to make the most, on the coldest of days. To what I equate to a big, warm and comforting hug.

Broths, dear readers. Many, many broths …

Chicken broths. Veal broths. Chicken and veal broths. 

Not quite chicken but was the only fowl flouncing around...in the heat...back when there was some...

Veal ... thank you dear ...

What I wanted to share with you today is venison broth but plans were foiled when I called my butcher and he did not have any. “Call me on Monday” he rasps with heavily accented voice over the din in his shop. Given said circumstance, I share with you today a beautiful chicken and veal broth recipe. A simple, soothing afternoon kitchen adventure, in thick wool socks. Temperature outside: minus 30.

Because of the nature of broth and the few ingredients involved you must purchase the best ingredients possible to experience the broth bliss that has rendered mankind warm and cosy in many kitchens. The most well fed and cared for chicken and veal. The ripest tomatoes, the most sweet and fragrant carrots and aromatic celery stalks (yes that’s right, fragrant and aromatic). Carrots and celery are commonly peddled for their crunch but dear readers, next time you buy a bunch of fresh beautiful carrots and leafy dirty celery, I invite you to stick your nose right in there and inhale … trust me …(and don’t worry about any strange glances you may get … speaking from experience here …). The rest is simple …

Time to dish.

Chicken and veal broth

Here is what you need ...

• Chicken necks, backs, a foot or two …
• Veal bones (some with marrow)
• Ripe tomato
• Fragrant and aromatic (and dirty) carrots and celery
• Sprig of parsley
• Sea salt
• Whole peppercorns

Here is what to do ...

In a big, heavy pot add all the above mentioned ingredients and bring to a slight boil. Slight because the ingredients are delicate and you do not want a rolling boil to start breaking them apart and clouding your broth. Which brings us to the next point. Do not stir. Not even once. Resist the temptation and you will be rewarded with beauty. Once slight boil has been achieved, reduce the heat so your both comes to a simmer and then watch it lovingly and gingerly skim off any foam that accumulates. Once that is done dear readers, leave it alone for a few hours and then enjoy the bounty of your "labor".

Serve yourself a warm bowl of broth with a little meat from the chicken and some fresh parsley and dig out that veal marrow to serve on a small piece of crusty bread.

Enjoy in wool socks.

Originally published on dish chronicles 1.31.11