Intuitive

There are different kinds of healthful eaters and I fall into a category that doesn't eat kale. That's actually not true. I eat kale whenever it suits me, which just happens to be rarely. I had a really bad experience with it once so I'm gun shy. What can I say? I'm not a tree-eater. Anything that reminds me of grass or trees isn't going to get my love, unless it's contained holistically in some dish that I enjoy.

I do like quite a few vegetables and vary them in my diet but, honestly, if you ask me about my food impetus, they don't rate. They're a pleasant accompaniment, a reprieve from the substantial.

Moreover, while I believe in eating vegetables for health (though I'm only motivated by desire), and while I know we need to treat this world better and consume less meat, I eat it or fish/seafood pretty much daily, in small amounts.

I'm effectively a person who doesn't eat sugar, processed food, beans (though I flirt with these because I like them) and grains of any description. My wine consumption is regulated, but I've hit a sweet spot.  Oh, and it happens that I'm not super into vegetables.

These factors can coexist and I am, nonetheless, a healthful eater- though some of you may be wondering wtf I actually do eat (read on). But, here's the thing, I've spent a shit ton of time over the past 6 months considering what food resonates. What food gets me off? Because, remember, when I started this thing I was beyond satisfaction.  I inhabited emptiness, or it did me, and everything was cavernously bland.

I'd been such a mess of sugar addiction that it affected my sense of taste. Sure, I'm a food discerner from way back, but there was always a fundamental disconnect between my appetite, my hunger - and the needs of my autonomic body. I was driven by an irrational, semi-regular compulsion to eat sugar in whatever form was easiest.

It sounds really bad when I put it that way...

So I made a decision. In my new landscape, I would only eat food that I want. If the thrill was elusive, my job was to find it. I've undertaken this with sincerity :-)

Foods I love to eat and so I eat them pretty well as much as I want, as often as I want (and I'm not known for my moderation):

• Full fat dairy, theoretically, in unrestricted amounts (but I must remain mindful, in the scheme of things, to ingest this food group in balance with the others - because I could eat only dairy for the rest of my life and, let's face it, that wouldn't really be smart): butter, cream, yogurt, cheese, milk... Cream is my perfect dairy. Sometimes I drink 4 oz of heavy cream at a go, in one form or another. Dairy has a notable effect on my mood, it calms me the fuck down and it makes me happy. I just have to perfect my creme patissiere without grain sugar or flour (but 1 tsp maple syrup) so I can eat it for dinner when the mood strikes - and use it in dessert, natch. With berries. It's high in good mood chemicals, protein and fat. What's not to love??

• Other oils - cuz if I'm going to eat vegetables (and I do appreciate them for their many gifts), they need to be oily. Also, oil is good on or in everything.

• The coconut in all it's forms, but particularly the cream and oil (notice a trend?).

• Meats that are on the more raw vs more cooked side. Preferably salty and saucy.

• Potatoes - but not in large quantities and generally smothered in some sort of fat (or rich sauce). I particularly love roasted and mashed.

• Cacao/Cocoa/Chocolate - Also ridiculous mood enhancer. It tastes like earth and when you mix it with fat, it's soporific. But without sugar, this is a totally different food than any choc bar (even the 80%).

• Pistachio nuts (and I eat other nuts but these are my faves). Really salty or spicy ones.

• Eggs for their spectacular versatility. They give richness to everything.

• Bacon. Look, let's just give this one its own line item and move on.

• Berries, pears, apples, stone fruits - the things that make the best crumbles

• Coffee and wine - in moderation, but only because if I have more than 3 shots of coffee in a day, I start to shake (sad) and when I drink booze as I used to, it makes me feel sick. Note: It would appear, though I didn't realize it at the time, that I used to drink wine as a blood sugar stabilization mechanism. Now that I don't eat sugar, I don't find wine anywhere near as biologically compelling (though it is a beautiful accompaniment to meals).

With few exceptions, I eat for texture first. That's what makes or breaks food for me and rich textures are endlessly pleasurable. Next I taste for umami. Then sweet. With sugar, I want only a tease. I love the dense, fatty, saucy things (in proper proportions). I do live in a cold climate, after all.

Also, I don't love chewing unless I'm in the mood (which is strangely infrequently in the scheme of things). What do all of my faves (soups and sauces and mashed potatoes and mince and scrambled eggs and drinking chocolate and soft cheese and vegetables sauteed in sauce) have in common? You don't have to feel like chewing in order to enjoy them. Note: This isn't about my TMJD for the most part. It's about an undercurrent of physical revulsion at the thought of eating something that must be chewed/absorbed. Yeah, I agree, it's fucking weird. I used to mask my aversion with a constant infusion of sugar and simple carbs.

I've decided not to worry about any of this. This is how I'm eating right now. It suits more of me than it doesn't suit (which is more than I can say for my former eating styles). I only eat what I want. If I desire sweet things before savoury, I eat them. If I want a quarter stick of butter in my scoop-sized mashed potatoes, I eat it.  If I want veggies braised in bacon fat, I eat them. I do not restrict salt or spices or fat or protein. I also welcome fruit and sweet-aligned foods (cocoa, wine, coffee). I pair them with the most stupidly fatty and moldy cheese I can find.

Is this low carb or ketogenic or primal, I have no fucking idea. It seems that most of my calories come from fat but nuts, fruit, veg and dairy have carbs and I eat them daily, sometimes in substantive quantities. I drink wine sometimes. I make dessert many nights of the week. I just cut the sugar almost entirely, eliminate the grain and use beautiful dairy, fruits, eggs and spices. You'd be amazed by how dessert can serve as an decadent main when you do this well. I don't know if this is healthy on paper. I know it's healthy for me.

Is it immoderate? Well, maybe, if you don't like the idea of mainlining fat, but does that matter if the end result is feeling and looking better? One could say I am exceedingly moderate about the sugar and grains. I sense I'm a vegan's nightmare.

Is this a good idea for others? Who can say? It can't hurt to try if you have mood or memory issues, an arrythmia, chronic pain or an illness caused by systemic inflammation or degeneration. Bio-available fat stabilizes the nervous system. But who can say what impacts come to those with high lipids or fat-sensitive systems? We are not all the same. We shouldn't all do the same thing.

So, today's question: What kind of eater are you? Emotional, Whole 30, health nut, gluttonous, austere - define yourself in the moment :-) and let's talk!

Say Goodbye and Hello

The best way to bid farewell is with an afternoon of cooking, no doubt culminating in 20 minutes of gluttonous eating. Trust me. And the best way to cook is with copious amounts of fat, preferably butter. Ask any chef and they'll tell you. If they don't, they're flat out lying.

Tonight's menu is a family fave: quiche Lorraine (Julia's recipe - though I make the crust recipe from The Joy of Cooking), asparagus with wild mushroom and brie sauce and, for dessert, apple pear crumble (with pistachios and almonds). I can't be sure there won't be cream on top of the crumble.

And for some food porn:

Prebaked Crust - Recipe in The Joy of Cooking. You've got to blind bake it before adding the quiche custard...

Seriously, is there anything better than bacon? Except lardons??

You line the blind-baked crust with lardons, just before adding the custard mixture (see photo below)...

This custard is a simple mixture of eggs, cream, salt and pepper. Takes 3 minutes to make.

And here's what it comes to, in the end:

We like a lot of space between the top of the deep-dish pan and the custard. Makes for more crunchy crust!

Seriously, people, if you are afraid for your arteries, do not make this meal. I have actually modified the menu items to remove some of the fat. For example, I cannot conscion adding 2 tbsp butter to the top of a quiche, the ingredients of which are these: lard, flour, butter (in the crust), lardons, 1 cup of heavy cream, eggs, salt and pepper. A girl needs to draw the line somewhere. I use whole milk, not cream, when making my mushroom cheese sauce.

But I do NOT skimp on the butter in the crumble:

See those little dots of apple/pear coloured something? Yeah, that's butter. And, btw, that's the secret to your perfect crumble. When it mixes with the collapsed fruit, vanilla extract, pinch of sugar, lemon and corn starch, it creates a perfect confit.

Add some hand-crushed pistachios, almonds, more butter, flour and sugar, and you've got yourself an awesome, crunchy topping:

Natch, this is pre-baking

And this just came out of the oven (which is why I've updated the post):

You'll have to trust me when I tell you that this is much browner than the pre-baked version and bubbling nicely.

You can see why we need to add some asparagus to the mix.

(I cannot be sure that there won't be a good bottle of wine for pairing.)

Bye-bye 2015. You've been all kinds of things. But I'll put my money on the future.

Sunday Night Dinner: Homemade Chicken Pot Pie

For a person doing nothing, making dinner tonight sure took a lot of time. I followed Joe Pastry's "recipe" (but I made the crust gluten free, using a new recipe and, um, there were a few rolling challenges).

It's not difficult, but everything takes time. To wit:

First you chop and brown whatever vegetables you like...

I made a mirepoix and added a potato, peas, mushrooms and sage.

Then you add some chicken. I Scott shredded one that comes from the store:

Let that sit while you prep a veloute (stock and roux - with a bit of milk for good measure) and make a crust. Better still, make those a day in advance.

In a hilarious turn, I made the veloute with regular flour. I just didn't know what would happen, texturally, with a non-wheat flour, and I wasn't feeling experimental.

I put the ingredients in the plate before adding the veloute. I find it's tidier than trying to transfer a saucy casserole from saute pan to oven-safe container:

In truth, I don't think I'd added the veloute at this point (see photo above). Everything was going in different directions so photography wasn't my top priority.

I really should have followed another recipe for the crust. It looks alright here:

But it's unstable. It's merely butter and flour. Nothing to give it any structure (vinegar, egg, water - something!). I thought I was being minimal but I can smell this crust melting down in the oven - literally. It's not cohering.

It shouldn't have surprised me because this is what happened when I tried to position it:

I must be changing because Krissie of 5 years ago would never have shown you such an eyesore?! At this point, I don't really care. I mean, it's a miracle I got it from the counter to the top of the pie.

I didn't make the stock from scratch, nor did I prepare the chicken and I still worked for a good 90 minutes before sliding this into the oven.

I do hope it's tasty, even if the crust is a bust. Lord knows there's enough of it.

Do you make savoury pies? Do you like them? Let's talk.

Update: The finished pie was flawed, but in a promising way. Next time I'll sautee the vegetables for longer, use a different crust and brown the roux for longer (my ratios - which I followed from Joe's recipe - were off and so the sauce is a very tiny bit floury). Also, the fact that the crust from this iteration of the pie is basically butter/flour slurry (albeit of the rice variety), it soaked up the veloute and the sauce became too thick. M LOVED it, flaws notwithstanding.  Scott, who doesn't ever like veloute, was not into it. It takes a long time to make this given that one of us doesn't like it. Still, it's very hearty, warming and the flavours are beautiful. I can see myself making this occasionally - especially as, when I fix the issues, it's going to be totally delicious.

Updated: Coincidence is Kind

Sweet Custard Tart aka Flan by Michel Roux
Can be found in his (extremely excellent) book Pastry: Savory and Sweet
This book is a must-have for aspiring - and skilled - pastry bakers.

You may recall my rhapsodic description of the flan I ate semi-regularly during my recent trip to Paris. I cannot adequately express the beauty of that pastry. The custard was perfectly formed, neither eggy nor loose. Vanilla bean infused a delicious confluence of cream and yolk. It perched atop a crust that bore no signs of supporting something, frankly, wet (as custard is). That crust was not flaky, but light and dry, very slightly sweet, infused with butter. The tart was so balanced, my ingestion of it was a veritable religious experience.

You probably know how I love food. A perfect meal is amongst my great meaningful life memories (those I'll take with me to my death bed) and - so happily - I had one such meal at Libretto last night. Everyone should eat that pizza (did I mention I don't even like pizza) - just get there by 6 pm or you'll wait in line all night. At any rate, I digress.

Imagine my joy, 5 minutes ago, on discovering (while reviewing the pate brisee recipe, in M. Roux's book, to see if the brisee I have stored in the freezer may still be edible a year later - I'm going to take my chances on a lardons quiche tonight) a photo of my beloved flan in the Enriched Sweet Pastries chapter!

He refers to it as "flan boulanger" (bakery custard), a childhood staple. Trust me, it's one of those tastes that makes the brain ring with association.

I'm away in Mtl. next weekend, or you can bet I'd have this baking on my agenda. It will just have to wait till the weekend after. Alas, if the baking goddess smiles on me, I may be able to recreate my own best memories to share, and to enjoy, with a perfect doppio espresso.

NB Update: Pate brisee will NOT last in the freezer for a year. As it thawed, the dough was a gluten-y mess. So, I got to make some new dough...

If Only Monitors Were Scratch and Sniff...

OK, I may be all "sewing challenged" every 10 minutes, but I sure as hell can bake:

Streusel Coffee Cake recipe from Joe Pastry

My parents arrived yesterday from North Carolina and tonight we'll be having a big dinner here with them and Scott's family.

On the menu:

• Munchies (Cheese, charcuterie, nuts, crackers)
• A variety of types of wine - some picked for vintage, others for cute labels and names i.e. Wit's End, The Procrastinator!
• Roast capon (slowly cooked over 5 hours on low heat)
• Pan Veggies
• Tomatoes and Feta
• Stuffing (Shhhh, it's out of a box!! Seriously, though, it's really good. But do NOT tell my mother.)
• Apple pie
• Pumpkin pie
• Streusel Coffee Cake (whatever's left!)
  

(Of course, the pies will be made from scratch, by me, and Scott's in charge of the bird.)

I'll aim to take some food photos, if there's an opportunity!

Happy Thanksgiving, all. K

The Cooking of Provincial France

Utterly inadequate photo of a great book cover: The Cooking of Provincial France by MFK Fisher

The title is grammatically dicey (Ha! Get it!?), but the book is a feast for the eyes.

MFK Fisher sounds suspiciously like Julia Child, who just happened to consult on this Time Life Foods of the World series book. I swear, I've heard some of the stories, within, told in other media by Mrs. Child herself.

Nonetheless, it is a joy to read. Unwieldily articulate in that mid-century way, the photos are museum-worthy and the recipes awesome. Published in 1968, it's an original edition and one of 4 in the series I got, practically for free, at Nicole's garage sale last weekend. (She tried to gift it to me, generous girl, but I took pains to remind her that the whole point of the garage sale is to score some loot for your formerly beloved possessions.)

I will treasure it!

Do yourself a favour and find it. Unless you already own it, in which case I want to know what you think!

Mmmm Cake...

I promised to show you lovely, styled photos of last weekend's dessert and then we got all drunk and food-happy and we suctioned it down before I'd even considered snapping some shots.

Fortunately, I did get one of the chocolate bundt cake before the guests arrived:


The recipe (the one that came with my Williams Sonoma portable cake tin) called for a chocolate glaze - which seemed like total overkill. I mean, this thing has a cup of cocoa and a chocolate bar in it!? And a container of sour cream. Perhaps I should save this fact for my next tag but I really don't like sour cream. Note: I do make exceptions in cake. Other note: Don't use low fat sour cream - just don't. What's the freakin' point??

It has a very nice crumb - quite moist - but I find the chocolate a bit overwhelming. Which is where the strawberries and handmade ice cream came in.

Per my last post on the topic, I really do think I've figured out what works best - at least in the home machine. Lots of egg yolk and whole milk. And espresso.

I have to say it was a hit.

Just Desserts

As I write this I am lulled by the smokey-bitter aroma of chocolate baking. It's amazing I can string together a sentence. In fact, I haven't actually eaten real food yet today. I've contented myself on batter scrapings and beaters and furtive spoonfuls of homemade ice cream.

I'm feeling very happy about dessert this evening. Steen and Nicole are coming over to celebrate Nicole's birthday and I've planned a very traditional - and made-with-love celebration feast.

I will take photos. After all, what's a feast without food porn?? But till then let me tell you what I've learned about ice cream for any of you who might be on my learning curve:

• As you may know, the underpinning of ice cream is generally creme anglaise, a milk-based egg custard. The thing is, you can make creme anglaise any one of 15 ways - some of them include cream, the quantity of egg yolks can range from 1 - 6 for 2 cups of liquid. For such a simple base, it's a very malleable thing.
• I've spent a few months experimenting with ratios of cream to eggs. At first, though my baking guru Michel Roux advised to use lots of yolks and milk only, I couldn't accept that it would yield the creamiest outcome. I mean, it's called ice cream for a reason, no?
  
• I've made the anglaise with increasing numbers of egg yolks and decreasing quantities of cream and I have to say, 2 cups of whole milk and 6 large yolks yields a beautiful, thick outcome once cooled.
• The irony is that the more fat and fewer eggs one uses, apparently, the more watery and apt to curdle the fluid becomes. And the more ice crystallization occurs during the machine churning.
  

So those are my 2 cents. Any ice cream-makers, I'd love to hear about your experiences.

A-bundt-ant

OMG, may I suggest - if you'd like to make the most gorgeous looking bundt cake ever - that you a) buy a decent pan (!?) and b) handcuff yourself to something until it actually freakin' cools (like, entirely).

I realized recently that I have an issue when it comes to cakes (it's probably the reason I rarely make them) in that I am compelled to prod at them while they are hot from the oven. Invariably it leads to some nasty looking results.

Well, that was the old me. The new me is patient. She has faith in the cake's inherent ability to spring from the sides of the pan as it cools. She leaves the house and runs errands while it's happening which - at least in this instance - yields outcomes like this:



If a cake could be radiant, this one was. And so yummy, it gave me a big dose of Xmas spirit.

Breaking News (Ha!)

A while ago, before I decided I seriously had to get a grip on my cooking habit for the good of my thighs, I bought Michel Roux's Eggs (companion of sorts to his recent book Pastry, which I've written about before). This book is a beautiful resource, which shows how to use eggs - chicken and then some - in endless ways, not simply in omelets and quiche but in sauce, souffle, ice cream, desserts etc.

The photography is beyond lovely and, in true Roux fashion, the recipes are simple, elegant and clear. But impressive!

Ever wondered about the relative sizes of all the eggs produced by all the birds you can imagine (from emu to ostrich to quail to goose)? Well then, this is the book for you.

I'm sure I don't need to convince you that the egg is one of the most awesome and useful foods in nature. A mini universe, each egg provides complete and delicious nourishment and is useful in just about a million contexts.

I fully intend to put this book through its paces - as soon as the holiday season comes around. I'm trying to exercise a bit of baking control for a while - though given my work stress and the move to dark, dank winter I've been finding my calories in the form of chocolate. Lots of chocolate.

Maybe I should try eggs instead.

Delicious Second-Hand Reading

The other day, while walking by Balfour Books (second hand bookstore) on College St., I saw these titles in the window. Both hardcover - and with extremely appealing food photography - the first one is mostly about the author chatting with his food subjects (who then provide a few recipes - easy recipes) and the second is Charlie Trotter being all "man of the people" and coming up with reasonable dishes you can try at home.

We modified one of the Trotter recipes - chicken with herbs and mustard (we had to grind some powder ourselves because we were out of Dijon?!) marinated in a bag and it was rather yummy. Of course, somehow it took almost 2 hours to put together. Easy weekday meals, my ass. Is it just me or is he looking all smug-chef on the cover??

Pound for Pound

Ah, the moment of innocence, before you try to remove the cake from the crappy (but totally buttered and floured) pan, and everything is still possible.

And then there's the moment of truth. Yes, I know the top is pitted. That's because my bundt pan is shot and I can't stop myself from poking at the cake before it's 100% cool. It's a weakness.

But look, it scarcely matters when plated. The cake is gorgeous and it tastes AWESOME.

I've made this recipe many times over the past few years - and it never ceases to delight. In truth, I'm not much of a cake baker. I don't love icing and I find cakes overly fussy. I mean, you can't eat the whole thing in one go, it's challenging to pack it individually and where do you keep it while you're getting through it all?

Enter the cake lid. I think, having made this recent purchase, I may need to experiment with cakes. Tall, fancy cakes - because the lid is very high. Admittedly, it is an interim purchase. I didn't buy a beautiful glass version because I don't know how I'd store it when it's not sitting on the counter with goodies inside and I don't know if cake is really a direction I want to go in. I mean, people, it's frosted temptation. That serves 16. Generously.

My daughter, however, loves it when I make cake. For her, it's the ultimate. She's already eaten 6 slices in the last 12 hours. So maybe I don't have to worry too much about left-overs.

Note: The secret to a perfect pound cake is to substitute half the butter for cream cheese. Trust me, it's genius. And mix the flour in before you add the eggs. Sounds crazy but it makes the thing so light and buttery, you can't stand it.

Sugar Coated

You may recall that I made my first batch of caramel, a few weeks ago, on a wing and a prayer and (nonetheless) it worked quite well. My next batch, crafted with a candy thermometer, didn't really set because - I thought - the thermometer was defective (which led me to remove the mixture from the heat prematurely).

Last week, I made the latest batch, pure candy perfection, with a new thermometer which - initially - seemed to be as defective as the last. Expensive and defective. As the batch simmered, so did I, till it occurred to me - in a moment of clarity - that my problem wasn't the thermometer, it was my perception of the way candy cooks.

The recipe I've been using, one which yields excellent results and for which I am very grateful, nonetheless suggests that the caramel should boil at 248 degrees for 15 minutes. What it really means to suggest is that caramel takes 15 minutes to get to 248 degrees - whereupon you better get it the fuck off the heat stat or you're going to have peanut brittle.

Maybe y'all know this, but just in case...

Here are a few shots of the tasty results of my fortuitous epiphany:

Salad Days

A couple of weeks ago, when the weather was still sultry, Steen, Nicole, Scott, M and I had a delicious BBQ. Nic had just got a new camera - an excellent camera - something point-and-shoot Canon (but practically an SLR) and we spent the evening taking photos.

The menu:

Hamburgers (we call them bugglers)
Corn on Cob
Modified Nicoise Salad (made by S&N - the most gorgeous thing!)
Homemade coffee ice cream (Michel Roux recipe)
Homemade sable shortbread (Michel Roux recipe)
Berries
Yummy bottles of wine I can't remember the names of

N shot a great video of me preparing dessert (well - we think it was great but we weren't exactly the best judges of high art at that point). Alas, in our debaucherous state, we managed to delete the video. You'll just have to believe I was like a TV chef.

I'm sure I'm going to look at these again and again come January!

Is it just me, or does my kid look like WendyB here?

I'm telling you, buy Pastry by Michel Roux. Even has ice cream recipe and all the food I've tried so far has been amazingly successful

Can you get over how gorgeous this salad is???

The last shot, while grainy and gratuitous, falls into the "K-Line tries to pretend she's Niotillfem and is living an exciting Scandinavian life where people kiss in dimly-lit rooms" category.

In Which K Gets A Bit Philosophical About Art

You know how I've been up to my pilgrim elbows in baking lately. I've been using my truly unquenchable enthusiasm for culinary good (or is it evil)? Between hand made ice cream (wait for it, the photos are coming), sable (the best shortbread I've ever eaten), pate brisee and quiche to puff pastry, croissants, pies, crumbles and candy, well, let's just say we spend $40.00 a week on butter.

Really, what I need is a little bakery, but till that happens - and I get to indulge my love of cooking and food styling for a fee - I'll talk to myself while baking the next gorgeous thing / pretending the people at home are writing down the recipe during the commercial break.

I've had a lot of time to meditate on the nature of this creative hiccup. Really, short of yoga, nothing in the world is more meditative than baking. What it lacks in directly facilitating the healthful mold of one's physical form (a la yoga) it surely makes up for in molding a little piece of gorgeous "something" out of nothing. And if you give half of everything you make to neighbours, then your physical form may well be left unscathed - we can only pray :-)

I don't think of myself as a visually creative person. Sure, I like art and design and style and fashion and all the beautiful things, but I don't see myself as a visual creator. For me, artistry has always come in the form of words (such as they are). Put a paintbrush in my hand and my offering is a rather wan splash which I'm likely to advise is abstract, ok? By contrast, I've always loved to cook and seem to be able to affect some appealing outcomes albeit, till recently, not for many years.

The beautiful thing about my life right now - one of the many awesome things - is that I'm old enough to recognize that these are the good old days. I waste very little of my time second-guessing my creative urges - or concerning myself with the perceived inadequacy that impinged on my every creative undertaking in my youth. I lived many years locked in the vice grip of "being blocked" because I didn't understand that the best way to express thanks for the gift of joy (that comes of making things) is to actually make things.

Every post I write, every pastry I assemble, comes out of the ether - a little piece of imagination brought to life. I'm doing what millions of others have done - continue to do - each day, and so I'm connected to them and to every creative act that has preceded mine. It's pretty deep when you get down to it. (Never mind how science-y exciting it is to learn that you can make just about anything out of butter, flour, water, eggs and salt.)

I can't tell you what a thrill it is for me to start with a pile of paste and assemble it into something delicious or beautiful or - when the planets align - both. I may not be able to draw a picture or make a dress, but I sure can put together a lovely pie. It's self-sustenance meets pragmatism meets science meets art all at once and in a rush!!

Why do you cook? How does it imact you - as joy or necessity? What's the best thing you make and how does it make you feel. Dare I say, dish? :-)

Glacée Eyed

This story begins with me deciding to make toasted pistachio nougat from scratch. I know, you're waiting on the post where I tell you about how I'm going to stop cooking so much - which is to say baking a la Français - because it's rough on the waistline. And it's coming, I swear. But first I bring you this tale...

Having determined to make the nougat, I realized I would need to bite the bullet and buy a candy thermometer. It's one thing to try one's luck on sugar at 248 degrees, it's quite another to do it stably with egg whites at a lower temperature. I went to Williams Sonoma. I looked at the $56.00 gadget on offer (one I've tweeted about ad nauseum). I noticed a new one on the hook next to it. It was $25.00. I felt virtuous. Pilgrim virtuous!!

Now, my friends, all would have been simple purchase and good bye if I hadn't noticed the Cuisinart ice cream maker: the one with the extra bowl that's smaller - which is to say more storable - than the really expensive stainless steel one, the one that matches my kitchen in all its white plasticky goodness, the one that can make frozen yogurt, nay gelato, should I opt to lower the fat content. It was standing in the corner, next to the $350.00 copper pots, winking at me.

I should mention I've been keeping Baskin Robbins - not to mention Dolce and all the boutique gelateria on College Street - in business since, well, birth. My first taste of food - on the way home from the freakin' hospital after being born - was Carvel. My mother put some on her finger and fed it to me in the car to quell my newborn cries. No joke. (But let's forgive her cuz it was 1970 and she was 22.)

I estimate I spend about 400 dollars a year on ice cream. Conservatively. Now that's partially because I only buy the premium stuff. It's also because I buy it often, but let's not dwell. I've always wanted to make my own. I've tried it numerous times without a machine and it's always failed. I can't tell you how I've longed to experiment with flavours - vanilla bean and cardamom, salted caramel, booze-flavours of all description, basil and strawberry. I've given it some thought, peeps.

Last night was the last straw. Scott went to Baskin Robbins to get some flaves and he came home with a bevy of second choices. Jamoca almond fudge is not jamoca. Pralines and cream is not butterscotch. And I'm freakin' sick and tired of being on a sugar hangover for 3 hours after eating a scoop of that stuff. For sure, Dolce is pure delicious goodness that inflicts none of the harm of BR, but it's not transportable (they don't do lids?!?) and even they disappoint me. I want Sicilian pistachio, they only have Neapolitan pistachio. Espresso becomes Latte. Trust me, those flavours are unique. You see the dilemma.

The solution, standing in the corner by the copper pots, was right in front of me. It was set out so elegantly. I wanted it. I was gripped by lust.

There was one left in the back - the kind with the second bowl at no extra price. All taxes in it was $100.00. Now all I need is 2 cups of cream custard and the salted caramel (made 2 weeks ago for a banana tart) loitering in my fridge. Don't judge me cuz I seem to be regressing on the "create less dessert" front. Don't judge me for buying (perhaps) the most inane appliance this side of the recession.

Let's just file this one under: K is crazy. OK? And when you come over, I'll make you a cone.

Dog Day Afternoon

Hopefully no one will get hurt. Although some kid is definitely holding some mom hostage with whiny, bored antics. You'd think this were the worst place ever, what with it's back garden and fridge stocked with food and toys, computers and TV. Did I mention books??

Anyway, we've decided - 40 celsius weather notwithstanding - to make an apple pie and tempered chocolate shells (I really don't know how these add to the pie but it doesn't much matter - the child will not let it go.)

I guess we can fill them with whipped cream?

Having never made chocolate shells, I've got to find some recipe to work with now. Interweb, je t'aime.

FYI - right now, I'd be happy with a white vermouth, some cheese and pretzels, a good magazine and a sun hat. Alas, I suppose I may have time for that later.

Wish me luck.

She Who Would Valiant Be, Gainst All Disaster*

A blog I read lately, the topic of which is caramel (I know, I know), suggested that (s)he who attempts candy without a thermometer is either very talented, very brave or very foolish.

I like to think of myself as brave.

Here's the thing: On deciding last week that my lifelong fantasy was to make my very own toffees, I did go out and survey my candy thermometer options. They ranged in price from $10 to $56. Presupposing that Williams Sonoma was trying to rip me off, I opted for the cheapie one from U-Deal. And then, while making my candy for the first time - I mean, in the midst of - the thermometer revealed itself to be an inaccurate dud. (Ha! Get that pun??) It didn't actually rise above 150 degrees - and caramel sets at 248 degrees. Maybe not my smartest save. But now I'm too cheap - and too stubborn - to go back for a better one.

To make matters more absurd, my very first candy-making experience - wherein I discovered the thermometer's inadequacy - turned out textbook perfect. So maybe I got a little chuffed.

Not sure how many of you follow Twitter, but Bel and I have created a new hashtag: #pilgrimcandymaker. Its etymology: I have this glib habit of justifying my questionable culinary practices by proclaiming that "the pilgrims wouldn't have used ____ (insert practical cooking instrument here)". So Bel decided we needed a category to contain the relevant tweets and there you go.

Tonight I tweeted my latest (second) exciting caramel-making venture. I forewent the thermometer, having not forked out for the $$ (though presumably functional) one, the one I own being a hunk of stupid. It was all going well. I thought I'd managed to recreate the last experience till, having let the paste cool for 2 hours, I went to carve it up. Um, it was not entirely solid. I find it difficult to express what state it was in - but I don't think I've ever seen anything else in the world that approximates it. Viscous would describe it. Stretchy like bubblegum? Semi-solid?

Point is, I would have lost a bake-off.

Julia Child, in her memoir, suggests that it's pointless - nay, contemptuous - to decry your work as failure. And trust me, the woman knows of what she speaks. M and I watched an ancient episode of The French Chef in which she positively murdered a tarte tatin. And, God love her, Ms. Child then had the balls to suggest powdered sugar would redeem it. Note to reader: It did not, though her attitude was awesome.

In all truth, when I sampled my toffee-gobs, they were small morsels of mushy heaven. OMG I could have scarfed the entire pan in one go, if only I hadn't wasted 30 minutes corralling them into wax paper wrappers. And, moreover, next week I have another great chance to get it right. (That's how long it takes to eat a pan of these if I'm prudent and not overly generous with the kid.) I don't know how they will adapt to refrigeration. They may become real candies (though probably not). That's why the wrappers are so useful.

I'm likely to forgo the thermometer again - at least until I've given myself an opportunity to figure it out "Mayflower style". After all, pilgrims didn't have candy thermometers. It was elbow grease with those ladies. I guess I'm going all Protestant on your asses. Minus the God-fear and head-gear. A girl does have to draw the line somewhere...

* Opening line of "The Pilgrim Hymn" - my old school song...

Real Women Make Quiche

When I decided to make a quiche Lorraine from scratch this weekend - on the heels of opting not to cook a cheese souffle, as I couldn't convince anyone else to eat it with me - I had a strange affinity for the recipe. I couldn't figure it out exactly, though I do remember eating quiche regularly in the 70s (like every other North American on the planet). It wasn't until, midway through its preparation, while speaking with my mother on the phone, that she reminded me it was her "special dish" from days gone by.

My mother, a modern woman who eschewed baking in its myriad forms, actually scratched up pâte brisée routinely for her butterlicious crust. The things we forget! (Of course, somehow I haven't forgot her ill-fated savoury rutabaga experiment that was amongst the top 10 most repulsive culinary experiences of my life, but there you go. Call me glass half empty.)

I found the recipe in Julia Child's French Chef Cookbook, a fine archive of her PBS TV work in the 60s and 70s. You know how top of mind she is these days... What I love particularly about the woman is the way, utterly uncomedically, she advises about the light qualities of a dish made exclusively with butter, heavy cream and bacon! Oh, and she suggests that it's "quick and easy" - which apparently means it takes nominally less long than crossing the Bering Strait on a sunny day in June.

In fact, when I told my mother I was in the middle of baking the quiche, the first thing she said was: "that's not an fast meal". And that's how we got on the topic of her quiche expertise.

Here are a couple of shots of the finished product:



Scott and M were out for the day so I got to enjoy it solitary-style - with UK Harper's Bazaar!

My review: While not the best quiche I've ever eaten, it was certainly a success I'll build on in the future. I feel I could have salted the eggs more and cooked it 5 minutes longer, but you live, you learn. I certainly noted the absence of subtlety and that something, hallmarks of my mother's quiche. Funny how visceral memory works. Gives you something to strive for.

Long Weekend BBQ

Y'all may know that I spent most of the Toronto long weekend in my house. Without abatement. At first, I was too tired to go out. Then I had "cooking obligations" aka I was compelled to make 2 tarts, some dinners and a batch of caramel candies. Fortunately, the weather was awesome so we were able to have a delightful dinner party in the garden - finalement. In August!

Here are a few photos of the table:



Um, notice a little something called SUN??!!

Seriously, my gratitude for beautiful weather could not be more sincere.