My book-recommending librarian friend strikes again, ordering The Art of Living According to Joe Beef: A Cookbook of Sorts for me to borrow from the library. I started off flipping through it, thinking it looked kind of fun, and very much a restaurant that I will put on my bucket list for the next time I travel to Montreal. But the recipes (such as Lièvre à la Royale—taking two days and involving a rabbit, a hare, a veal trotter, caul fat, foie gras, truffles, and the reserved blood of the hare, among other things) weren't something I would be likely to try at home.
At least not at first glance. As I looked through more carefully and got sucked into the stories and history of Montreal, and the playful voice of the whole thing, I stumbled across some real gems. For example, in their subsection titled "Tall Tales, Taste and a Few Theories" (all three of which I am a fan) they describe why the Big Mac is so popular (according to them, it is a perfect balance of salt, fat, sugar, acid and bite)—and then set out a series of simple recipes that combine the same perfect balance of flavour.
This will in no way convince me to go out and buy a Big Mac, since my farm upbringing (and lifetime access to real, healthy beef) has spoiled me forever for anything from McDonalds. I have never been able to enjoy it, even as a child. I always wanted to, because you're supposed to, but I was always disappointed in how it tasted. But I digress.
It was the chapter titled "The Smoker", backing on to the next chapter, "Building a Garden in a Crack Den," which got me totally hooked. They actually provided their plans for a homemade smoker (something my dad has built), and tucked in the middle of a book that uses all manner of meat, fat and foie gras, is a gorgeous chapter outlining their monthly garden harvest schedule and a recipe for Jerusalem Artichokes with Ketchup.
And in the middle of that chapter was a revelation to me: Herbes Salées—salted herbs! I had never considered preserving my herbs in salt, but there was a recipe that explains how. In cold climates like Saskatchewan, this is pure gold! Apparently this is a traditional Quebec recipe. Quebec! You've been holding out on the rest of the country! And they store in the fridge for up to a year. I have currently been sneaking out to my herb patch for thyme, since it is merely frozen but not covered with snow. This won't be the case forever, though. I'm so excited to get at my herb bed next summer. I have to plant chervil...
Their booze and dessert chapters also got me thinking. The dessert recipes confirmed my attachment to Panna Cotta as a great quick and easy dessert (if your dinner guests give you a few hours' warning, so it can set), as well as sparking my interest in Eclairs and a cake called Marjolaine, a multi-layered confection of hazelnut cake, ganache, and vanilla and hazelnut buttercreams, that looks absolutely amazing. I may have to make it, very soon. My birthday is coming...
I'm getting more and more into the book as time passes. It's lying open next to me and I just discovered a totally doable recipe for "Onion Soup Sauce," described as "tasting like an extraction of the essence of onion soup." I gotta go. Gotta get back to the book.
Monday, December 19, 2011
Friday, December 16, 2011
The end of the ham = simple, delicious soup
I always marvel at recipes that taste so wholesome and delicious and have very few ingredients. I love making split pea soup because you can't get much simpler: toss a ham bone and some other ingredients in a pot, bring to a boil, simmer a couple of hours, and voila! Dinner an habitant would love.
I got this recipe from the ancient Good Housekeeping Illustrated Cookbook, copyright 1980. I added the celery, but otherwise, it is more or less exact.
Split Pea Soup
1 ham bone (left over from whole or half ham, preferably with enough meat left to make 1 1/2 cups)
1 lb. split peas
2 carrots, thinly sliced
1 celery stalk, thinly cliced
1 medium onion, chopped
7 c. water
1/4 t. whole allspice
1/4 t. peppercorns
1 bay leaf
Salt (if necessary. Mine didn't need any)
In a large Dutch oven over medium heat, heat bone, split peas, carrots, onion and water to boiling. Tie allspice, peppercorns and bay leaf in a piece of cheesecloth. Add to bone mixture. Reduce heat to low; cover, simmer 1 hour (or more, until peas have broken down completely). Discard spice bag; salt if necessary. Remove bone to cutting board. Cut off meat and discard bone. Cut meat into bite-size chunks and return to soup for serving.
My kids ate full bowls of the soup. This may be partly due to the fact that I implemented a moratorium on snacks today, since D has been living on peppernuts, crackers, and the occasional mini-mandarin. So they were hungry!
So there it is. We've used up the last of the gigantic ham.
I got this recipe from the ancient Good Housekeeping Illustrated Cookbook, copyright 1980. I added the celery, but otherwise, it is more or less exact.
Split Pea Soup
1 ham bone (left over from whole or half ham, preferably with enough meat left to make 1 1/2 cups)
1 lb. split peas
2 carrots, thinly sliced
1 celery stalk, thinly cliced
1 medium onion, chopped
7 c. water
1/4 t. whole allspice
1/4 t. peppercorns
1 bay leaf
Salt (if necessary. Mine didn't need any)
In a large Dutch oven over medium heat, heat bone, split peas, carrots, onion and water to boiling. Tie allspice, peppercorns and bay leaf in a piece of cheesecloth. Add to bone mixture. Reduce heat to low; cover, simmer 1 hour (or more, until peas have broken down completely). Discard spice bag; salt if necessary. Remove bone to cutting board. Cut off meat and discard bone. Cut meat into bite-size chunks and return to soup for serving.
My kids ate full bowls of the soup. This may be partly due to the fact that I implemented a moratorium on snacks today, since D has been living on peppernuts, crackers, and the occasional mini-mandarin. So they were hungry!
So there it is. We've used up the last of the gigantic ham.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Monday, December 12, 2011
Momentum Gets the Better of Me
I have long espoused the benefits of planning ahead when it comes to cooking; actually, when it comes to life with small children, planning ahead improves the potential outcomes of almost any situation (at least part of the time...too many variables for a guarantee any stronger than that).
I was pleased with my momentum this week—I planned to make an appetizer for a party that would leave me with a cranberry-teriyaki glaze matched to a recipe for Asian braised short ribs, and pulled short ribs out of my freezer to thaw. I made extra poststickers (my appetizer of choice), so we could eat them at our convenience after I froze some.
Then, my parents showed up. I love them dearly, but they invariably add to the chaos. This time, my dad did so by showing up with a 10-lb. picnic ham as a gift. I had just tossed it into my (brimming) deepfreeze when my husband commented that it would be nice to have ham for dinner and sandwiches throughout the week. Out came the ham, and in spite of the fact that dinner that night was to consist of only him and the boys (I was going to the party), the 10-lb. ham went in the oven.
Turns out the potstickers can't really be frozen, because the filling was too wet, and they were meant to be cooked right after filling them, but I didn't because I played volleyball right before the party, so I made the potstickers ahead of time. The wet filling made the wrappers extra gooey. They need to be cooked right away to be saved. So. They probably should be cooked tonight.
The teriyaki glaze is already made, and the short ribs are thawed, so in spite of the fact that the fridge now contains leftover empanada filling, some extra ground pork that I didn't use in the potstickers, a few dozen ready-to-cook potstickers (if they aren't already past saving), and most of a 10-lb. ham, I also have to cook the short ribs. If I don't cook them tonight, I won't get to them until Wednesday, because tomorrow night I am booked into a hot new restaurant to do a review. So. The ribs are on the stove, bubbling away; then I will have empanada filling, ground pork, potstickers, ham AND braised Asian shortribs to choose from. I hate wasting food. I hope I can find a pork/beef-loving person (or people) to help me out...
Planning ahead seemed like a good idea, until a ham got tossed into the mix. I guess I should enjoy the fact that I probably won't need to cook anything for any meal for the remainder of the week. I can rest up for my catering event next Saturday. And maybe catch up on Christmas baking...and, do my dishes.
I was pleased with my momentum this week—I planned to make an appetizer for a party that would leave me with a cranberry-teriyaki glaze matched to a recipe for Asian braised short ribs, and pulled short ribs out of my freezer to thaw. I made extra poststickers (my appetizer of choice), so we could eat them at our convenience after I froze some.
Then, my parents showed up. I love them dearly, but they invariably add to the chaos. This time, my dad did so by showing up with a 10-lb. picnic ham as a gift. I had just tossed it into my (brimming) deepfreeze when my husband commented that it would be nice to have ham for dinner and sandwiches throughout the week. Out came the ham, and in spite of the fact that dinner that night was to consist of only him and the boys (I was going to the party), the 10-lb. ham went in the oven.
Turns out the potstickers can't really be frozen, because the filling was too wet, and they were meant to be cooked right after filling them, but I didn't because I played volleyball right before the party, so I made the potstickers ahead of time. The wet filling made the wrappers extra gooey. They need to be cooked right away to be saved. So. They probably should be cooked tonight.
The teriyaki glaze is already made, and the short ribs are thawed, so in spite of the fact that the fridge now contains leftover empanada filling, some extra ground pork that I didn't use in the potstickers, a few dozen ready-to-cook potstickers (if they aren't already past saving), and most of a 10-lb. ham, I also have to cook the short ribs. If I don't cook them tonight, I won't get to them until Wednesday, because tomorrow night I am booked into a hot new restaurant to do a review. So. The ribs are on the stove, bubbling away; then I will have empanada filling, ground pork, potstickers, ham AND braised Asian shortribs to choose from. I hate wasting food. I hope I can find a pork/beef-loving person (or people) to help me out...
Planning ahead seemed like a good idea, until a ham got tossed into the mix. I guess I should enjoy the fact that I probably won't need to cook anything for any meal for the remainder of the week. I can rest up for my catering event next Saturday. And maybe catch up on Christmas baking...and, do my dishes.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Dumpling Madness
Today I made 100 beef empanadas, 100 blue cheese shortbreads, and then, in a fit of madness, decided to start on the pork potstickers that I plan to take to a girls' night tomorrow. Why I am making potstickers fast on the heels of 8 dozen empanadas, I have no idea. It's times like this that I realize why I felt a kinship with Julie Powell when I read Julie & Julia (the feeling ended when she imploded in her sequel, Cleaving).
My long suffering husband entertained the kids most of the day while I slept in, then started cooking, and kept on cooking right through to dinner-time (dinner was leftover picadillo filling from the empanadas, on top of pizza dough, topped with feta cheese). I remained cheerful, but I can't deny a touch of insanity, since it is past midnight and now I'm writing about food instead of going to sleep...
My long suffering husband entertained the kids most of the day while I slept in, then started cooking, and kept on cooking right through to dinner-time (dinner was leftover picadillo filling from the empanadas, on top of pizza dough, topped with feta cheese). I remained cheerful, but I can't deny a touch of insanity, since it is past midnight and now I'm writing about food instead of going to sleep...
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Nuts: I Am What I Eat
I have been neglecting my blog posts while I scramble for sleep as Baby G cuts his last one-year molar, while also trying to coordinate plans for Christmas baking and gifting. I also picked up a catering gig for the 17th of December, which I'm looking forward to, but which also requires quite intensive planning in order to pull it off without a hitch. Hence, more thinking and list-making is going on, rather than blogging.
My meal plan was created on the fly this week, hence it wasn't much of a plan. I do have a couple of recipes to share though, which have nuts in common. As long as your children don't have nut allergies, and are past the risk of choking, nuts are an excellent, energy-dense, healthy fat-filled, and filling addition to a meal. The nuts were the most popular part of these two vegetarian meals this week:
Pineapple Tofu with Cashews, from Canadian Living
Spaghetti with Cauliflower, Green Olives and Almonds
The Spaghetti with Cauliflower, Green Olives and Almonds is a particular favourite of my husband and me, served with whole grain spaghetti. It is one of the few olive oil-based sauces that I find completely satisfying. Added Parmesan helps, too.
I will post again soon with the developments of both my catering gig and Christmas baking plans. First steps are in place—I purchased the Lee Valley Gingerbread Mold and gingerbread decorating ingredients today. I can't resist anything for the kitchen made from cast iron! Excited to use it.
My meal plan was created on the fly this week, hence it wasn't much of a plan. I do have a couple of recipes to share though, which have nuts in common. As long as your children don't have nut allergies, and are past the risk of choking, nuts are an excellent, energy-dense, healthy fat-filled, and filling addition to a meal. The nuts were the most popular part of these two vegetarian meals this week:
Pineapple Tofu with Cashews, from Canadian Living
Spaghetti with Cauliflower, Green Olives and Almonds
The Spaghetti with Cauliflower, Green Olives and Almonds is a particular favourite of my husband and me, served with whole grain spaghetti. It is one of the few olive oil-based sauces that I find completely satisfying. Added Parmesan helps, too.
I will post again soon with the developments of both my catering gig and Christmas baking plans. First steps are in place—I purchased the Lee Valley Gingerbread Mold and gingerbread decorating ingredients today. I can't resist anything for the kitchen made from cast iron! Excited to use it.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Pear Rescue
I set myself up for this. I know I did. A year or so ago, I purchased a pyramid-shaped fruit holder, thinking that I liked the idea of decorating with fruit, it would be cool in my newly renovated kitchen, and D would love to unpack the fruit onto the stand. All of this proved to be true, but I did not predict the regularity with which I discovered all my lovely fruit to have single bites taken out of every single piece. It's inevitable when the fruit is out on the counter, just begging to be tampered with.
I hadn't used the holder for a while because I had been discouraged by D's aforementioned treatment of the fruit (taking bites out of all of them and putting them back). But it had been a while, and I had some pears that needed ripening, so I plunked them on the holder, and promptly forgot about them.
Enter not-so-baby G, who has learned by observing his brother that moving chairs to the counters and climbing on them opens up a whole new world of opportunity. By the time I started paying attention, all the pears had been removed from the holder, one dropped, two revealed that they had started to rot, and the rest of them had single bites taken out of them.
I wondered out loud about the two that had started to turn. D piped up, "That's probably because I dropped them and they bruised." Ah, thanks for the info.
I suddenly had a lot of pears that needed peeling and turned into something, with little time to do it. I decided to poach them (a fancy name for stewing, really), using apple juice and adding some of the cranberries (in the freezer) left over from Thanksgiving. The results made a refreshing dessert!
Cranapple Poached Pears
1 child's juice box of 100% unsweetened apple juice
1/2 cup fresh or frozen cranberries (you could use dried cranberries as well)
4 or 5 pears, peeled, cored and sliced into wedges
1/2 cinnamon stick
1 whole clove
Place all ingredients in a pot and bring to a boil over high heat. Don't worry if the pears aren't covered by liquid. Lower heat, cover and simmer for about 15 or 20 minutes, until the pears are soft and the cranberries have burst. Sweeten with honey or a bit of sugar if desired. I didn't sweeten it at all, and while it was a bit tart, we all still enjoyed the flavour.
I hadn't used the holder for a while because I had been discouraged by D's aforementioned treatment of the fruit (taking bites out of all of them and putting them back). But it had been a while, and I had some pears that needed ripening, so I plunked them on the holder, and promptly forgot about them.
Enter not-so-baby G, who has learned by observing his brother that moving chairs to the counters and climbing on them opens up a whole new world of opportunity. By the time I started paying attention, all the pears had been removed from the holder, one dropped, two revealed that they had started to rot, and the rest of them had single bites taken out of them.
I wondered out loud about the two that had started to turn. D piped up, "That's probably because I dropped them and they bruised." Ah, thanks for the info.
I suddenly had a lot of pears that needed peeling and turned into something, with little time to do it. I decided to poach them (a fancy name for stewing, really), using apple juice and adding some of the cranberries (in the freezer) left over from Thanksgiving. The results made a refreshing dessert!
Cranapple Poached Pears
1 child's juice box of 100% unsweetened apple juice
1/2 cup fresh or frozen cranberries (you could use dried cranberries as well)
4 or 5 pears, peeled, cored and sliced into wedges
1/2 cinnamon stick
1 whole clove
Place all ingredients in a pot and bring to a boil over high heat. Don't worry if the pears aren't covered by liquid. Lower heat, cover and simmer for about 15 or 20 minutes, until the pears are soft and the cranberries have burst. Sweeten with honey or a bit of sugar if desired. I didn't sweeten it at all, and while it was a bit tart, we all still enjoyed the flavour.
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