soupnancy

Wine pairing, what a headache..

Not that it has to be.

I feel slightly guilty to be griping about wine pairing now, because once upon a time, it was a favourite pastime of mine. I was the biggest advocate, coaxing my poor friends to pay more attention to their wine and to their food, the juxtaposition.  I was nibbling, sniffing, and pontificating away, out loud. Annoyingly going on about how this would go with that, how this could be made to go with that, how we should be drinking this or that.   

At the time, I was also playing around in the kitchen with wine in mind, often composing menus starting from wine as opposed to the traditional other way around.  It was so much fun.  Eyes wide open to this other alchemy at play; I was beginning to understand how I could take a leap up from cooking something great by taking a dish over the top with the right wine, especially if I let the wine lead.  I was on the first, steep part of that learning curve, eagerly attending wine tastings, excited to detect every last note in a wine, and to tweak out every little nuance in my cooking.  I loved the challenge, and found it rewarding; the energy and patience required came easy.  I was devoted to finding the ‘perfect fit’.  Most importantly, I was backed up by a deep wine cellar and a team of sommeliers. Key.

The thing is, no matter how green or cushioned I was then, I believed in it wholeheartedly, and now I don’t.  The ‘perfect wine fit’, that is.  I do in theory yes, but for real life, no..  Of course, I know a wine can elevate a dish, and make it sing, and vice versa.  A wine can also wreak havoc on a dish (and vice versa) or simply lose its character, a crying shame.  From a chef’s point of view, it is worse when the food doesn’t shine because of a stupid wine.  At best, a wine doesn’t get in the way and is something you enjoy drinking, period. 

The bottom line 

I love wine as much as ever, and am just as curious about it in all its variety; I just couldn’t be bothered to spend too much time on preliminary farting around, speculating how it might interact with food in this guise or that. Beyond considering a few basic principles, the truth is only revealed in trying things out; every particular meal and circumstance is unique.  And most of the time, it isn’t practical to return to the kitchen and fuss with seasonings once the wine is open (which I might have readily done before). Personally, my number one consideration in choosing a wine now comes down to what I feel like drinking, perhaps a wine that has peaked my interest that I’m eager to try, or simply something familiar that I happen to be in the mood for.  Number two is matching the body or style of wine with the food - light body with light body, big with big, approximately matching the weight and intensity of flavours.  Obviously, there isn’t much point in opening a whopper of a red with a delicate shrimp or fish dish, nor firing up a pepper steak when a complex, aromatic Riesling is on the agenda.  That’s the bottom line.

On top of that, I do always keep some general guidelines in mind, and I pay heed to the tried and true: classic pairings like Sauvignon blanc and chèvre, lobster and burgundy, as well as personal rules like crisp white most of the time, Riesling with Proscuitto, Oysters with Prosecco, and Chianti with Bolognese, Champagne and good Burgundy anytime. It always depends if food or wine is the priority too; keeping the one that is off-setting the other good, but restrained.

The elements at play - games and headaches 

There are other tidbits I’ve learnt over the years that I bring to the table, the very things I once got off on, but am now calling on others to dismiss, because herein lies the headaches..  Without any desire to play sommelier or pick specific wines, I can’t help but have my opinions on what goes with what, in a broad sense.  I know that my customers often get worse advice from professionals with respect to my food only because I know my food and they don’t.  Knowing the chef’s style is as important as knowing the ingredients.  Many wine guides have people thinking that if there are blackberry notes in the wine, they should be eating blackberries.  Goddamn it, I don’t care what the wine specialists say, it isn’t true.  First of all, fresh blackberries don’t go with any wine, worse than artichokes or asparagus, trust me.  For sure, a fruity wine will go well with a fruity dish, but it might go even better with an earthy dish, say mushrooms or root vegetables.  Often a same taste cancels out a same taste.  A gamey wine can go with a gamey dish, but it won’t be great unless they both have something else to offer.  The wine has to be fruitier than the fruity dish, acid, body and everything else in order.  Acidity, fruitiness or sweetness needs to be more prominent in the wine for success.  Salty food calls for acid and/or sweet.  Acidic food needs acidic wine so that the wine doesn’t fall flat, but fresh and sweet can provide a nice foil.  Sugar (not just dessert, even caramelized onions, squash or corn) can kill a wine, increasing bitterness, sourness and astringency, so something sweeter, but multi-dimensional will compliment; focus on the fruit when you want a dry wine.  Rich food needs a squeeze of lemon, so something fresh fits the bill, but you need body so it doesn’t taste acrid or disappear.  Flesh calls for tannins, and long cooked delicate meat the opposite.  Umami can also bring out bitter/sour notes, but with salt, it can really soften a meaty, tannic mix, and provide surprising links. 

You can often balance a dish with a wine, but I believe most in balancing a dish first (with acid, salt, sugar, umami, heat); not only because food is my priority, but it is the easiest thing you can do to cover your bases and let a wine shine, assuming you are serving a balanced wine with it.  It is trickier to play off the food and wine dance, relying on one to bring out the best in the other.  In this scenario, you really have to think about wine as a condiment, finishing a dish, with a boost or a calming effect, offering layers of flavour.  But for the condiment to work, the players have to be from the same domain in style and in heft. (think girls, boys, ladies, men). 

At the restaurant, my cooking is always flavour forward, yet subtle, with underlying touches of earth and unami, always some sweet or fruit in there somewhere, alongside acid and salt, and religiously somewhere between ‘boys’ and ‘ladies’ in body and soul.  I never serve a big rare steak, so a tannic wine never works.  My food is too delicate for a super oaked wine.  Because of the freshness always, a lighter red is appropriate.  And for the first few courses, a girly white, something tart and aromatic is usually winner (because I start cold and light, and there is always seafood or charcuterie with aromats like wild ginger..).  And a soup and salad of some kind follows.  For the main course, duck or venison usually, a Burgundy, an old Bordeaux, possibly a Merlot or new world pinot goes well - so a lady-like red..  Whatever the ingredients are, I know this is what suits my cooking.  It happens every once and a while in fall/winter when I have a creamy sauce with corn and lobster or pintade that calls for a new world Chardonnay, or a bold dish with sweet harvest vegetables that calls for a manly Shiraz, but honestly, it’s almost never.   I feel like I could give the same wine guide every week and be in the ballpark.  That might be a cop out if I was a sommelier.

Enough is enough

But I know that's good enough.  Despite all the taste experience and mental notes I have up my sleeve, I can't pretend to effortlessly fall upon exquisite food-wine pairing.  Although extraordinary matches do surface, more often than not, they are just Ok, but it never stops me from enjoying the food or the evening, and I’m pickier than anyone.  There seems no point in worrying about every little note.

The ‘perfect fit’ is a lofty goal, and so easily thrown off by a side dish or punchy sauce or some finishing touch by the chef.  It’s even more readily mangled by all the variables that make up a real life dinner, be it at home or at the restaurant.  People showing up here and there, ordering a martini, going for a smoke, munching on this or that, bringing wines they want to drink.  There are people’s varied palettes always at play, their likes and dislikes, and how they eat.  Most people don’t change wines with every course, and the best wine to accompany two or three courses is rarely the same as any of those that would be best for any one dish.  So given the company and the menu, how many wines and what wines should you choose?

The only time an attempt at spot on wine-pairing is realistic is with a one pot meal at home say, and that still requires some forethought, experience and luck.  The best way to play the extreme wine pairing game is in the hands of a well orchestrated professional tasting menu that delivers one wine with every dish, preferably in a top notch establishment where much effort has gone into fine tuning the dishes and the matches.  In this case, it makes sense from the restaurateur’s point of view to invest the time, expertise and money to hash out the details, because customers are coming for that experience and are paying for it.  Finding the kind of balance, complicity and contrast in the elements, the specific recipe and cooking technique, that culminates in the kind of marriage that makes you sit up and take notice ( Hallelujah!) is something. To systematically reach beyond the realm of crapshoot requires work.

The Paradox

With modern-style globally influenced multi-component meals, smart wine pairing is more complicated than most make it out to be, and then, paradoxically, not.  Although technically, it is, with the hundreds of chemical compounds at play; in reality, it actually is not, only because the average person doesn’t care so much.  If you are really tasting what’s in your glass and what’s on your plate, tentatively swirling them around together and thinking about it, you will catch the jiving or jarring notes, and you know how rare the 1+1=3 thing is.  But almost no one does this.  So it doesn’t matter as much as we make it out to.  It’s all about avoiding big clashes, trying to keep both wine and food intact, and optimising synergies.

I think back to numerous catering events where only fine wines were being poured, all carefully coordinated for each canapé or course, only to largely and ultimately pass on muted taste buds and blocked minds.  Besides the odd keener or bored person with nothing else to do, many guests seemed annoyed with the complicated formula, being forced to change wines so frequently.  After all, they just started sipping a delicious Meursault, and now what – something sweet for the foie gras?  Shy to say they were less than enthusiastic with the host’s wine plan, they would hold tight to their glass, and eventually admit that they would rather just drink Champagne or even jump to red.  At many a tasting menu dinner in many a restaurant, I have observed that few people keep up; they’re drinking anything with anything.  Come to think of it, I don’t really like to change wines at every course either.

Another example of misguided wine-pairing efforts: Every week, I witness sloppy wine pairing (funnily working out just fine).. When customers bring my menu to the SAQ and ask a ‘conseiller’ for advice, I discreetly groan at the sight of the wines they show up with.  Just because the ‘expert’ saw ‘venison’ for instance, the unfortunate guest comes armed with a ‘costaud’, tannic Cabernet, which I know goes awfully with my food.  You need more than ‘venison’ as a clue to choose the perfect fit!  And Cahors with duck - stop it already! But if some ‘expert’ told them it was the best choice, chances are they will convince themselves of it.  I’ve seen it countless times.  Even with connoisseurs who pick wines from their cellar based on the menu, they seldom say anything other than that their selections were just right.  Either I have a bunch of Einsteins as guests and I cook magically to match all wines, or I suspect there is some of that subjective, positive feedback, rationalizing normalizer at play (placebo effect), mixed with people not tasting too carefully.  Not that I blame them, and I should be pleased.  If everything tastes good without thinking too much, and everyone is having a grand time, what else matters?  Food and wine are supposed to be fun, not stressful, and just as much about the setting and the people. 

The fact is, the older, jaded me drinks and eats separately anyway - sipping, then devouring, then sipping some more, not too concerned with marriage.  On occasion, in a stolen moment at a tasting menu event or alone say, I silently linger longer, savouring the party on my tongue, thinking long and hard about it if I’m allowed.  But when the company is good, I hardly do more than notice if the wine is corked, adequate or not; I’m definitely not worrying about the perfect match, and none of my friends are ever.

Beyond the odd aficionado, no one wants to go there anyway.  Most diners prefer to nod to the illusion of a perfect marriage, and go on talking. Likewise, people like to let someone else choose the wine, or simply drink what they like to drink.  So even if a California Cab or St-Joseph is not what’s ideal, if that’s what they are used to drinking with everything, then chances are they will prefer it to the Loire Valley red that would be the better mate.  If they hate white wine and three white wines are recommended with the menu, they won’t be thrilled.  They might be won over at Toqué or L’Eau à la Bouche where a professional, knowledgeable sommelier is there to charm them into loving a wine they don’t; but in the real world, forget it..

At Les Jardins Sauvages, I give up 

When it comes to recommending wines for my menu at Les Jardins Sauvages, I find it impossible!  Because there is no simple answer to please everyone.  Because I know how elusive that perfect fit is.  Shoving perfection aside, I still know how so many different wines could do the trick in other ways, so I don’t know where to start.. Mainly, it’s because everyone wants and expects something different.  And I don’t have the knowledge, resources or patience of a sommelier.

Some are looking for a different wine for each course; others want the super bottle to cover the meal.  Groups of 4 or 6 might decide on 3 wines for the meal.  Then of course, there are their individual likes and dislikes, and their respective budgets.  A few are just seeking some general guidance because they have a cellar.  Others don’t know squat about wine but are willing to go the distance to impress their guests, so they ask for specific SAQ numbers, and they will go across town to secure the wines.  Yet others want something reasonably priced and widely available (at the SAQ in rural Quebec). 

So that means I need to recommend a wine per course (7), as well as shorter wine selections of two, three, four or five wines, then another one for that conservative couple who will share one bottle.  And for any suggestions I might have, I need to offer something suitable in several price ranges, never forgetting a red option if I give a white (because Quebeckers still are white weary).  Let me tell you, it’s quite a job.  Only a treatise would do, and that would likely overwhelm the average diner looking for a little help, not to mention take up too much of my time.

Then, there is the inherently problematic nature of my menu..  There’s all the wild stuff, all the greens, so much going on in the multi-course meal.  I don’t mean for it to be the kind of menu that hurts upon reading, but because I need to mention all the wild edibles (what people come for), and the main gist, as well as any allergenic ingredients, it is wordy and rife with terminology, certainly enough to confuse a sommelier (so it’s hard to blame the poor SAQ guys).  I know my menu is sound and balanced on delivery, but with all the ingredients at hand, when I think of wine pairing, I get a headache too.  The fact that I change my menu every week only makes matters worse.  But the changing menu is essential to the quality and magic of dining at la table champêtre, more so than the wine.  My gut and experience tell me that the best thing I can do to ensure happiness all round is to cook to the best of my abilities with the best ingredients and let the gods (wine and otherwise) take care of the rest.

Opting out (or not), for fun

As you can see, I’ve been beating around the block, circuitously building a case to opt out of wine pairing.  I'll continue to follow my own curve, but on a professional level, it’s just too hard to find proper matches for my menus while pleasing all sets of customers.  Especially when I know that it doesn’t really matter in the end!  I think everyone should just bring what they like/want to drink and all should be fine.  If you want to take it up a notch and practice your food-wine pairing skills, then think about it, do some research, consult a sommelier, and have fun with the exercise, which will be reward enough.  You don’t need me.  And I have to stop bugging Bill.

Or maybe I just need a courageous sommelier.  Either way, I’m opting out.  I want to keep wine and food FUN, no more headaches please. 

Cheers.

Fried Green Tomatoes, finally

I have been curious about Fried Green Tomatoes, the recipe, since the mid-nineties when Fried Green Tomatoes, the movie (that I loved so much) came out.  I never got around to trying the dish, probably because I never found myself down south where I could taste an authentic version (which is how I think one should ideally sample anything for the first time).. It also went against the tomato lover and chef instinct in me to not leave a tomato on the vine (or on the counter) and let it ripen to its full potential.  And truth be told, I was sceptical about how tasty a green tomato could really be; one would think the acidity would be overbearing once served hot.  One more thing..  I hardly wanted to destroy the warm and fuzzy imagery concocted in the film, the exquisite deliciousness that resided in my brain.  You see, I was afraid to repeat my Turkish Delight disappointment.  After reading Narnia as a kid, I had made that far-away, fictional sweet out to be the most seductive, tantalizing treat possible in my mind, the ultimate weakness to befall all earthly men and women.. only to taste it years later. To find that it tasted like a perfumey stale marshmallow, and I don’t like marshmallows; what a dud.  It made the story I had been so taken by feel like fluff.  That really hurt. 

In any case, for better or for worse, the time for Fried Green Tomatoes eventually and finally came this summer.  With the rainy weather and so much green tomato talk, the southern dish fell back onto my radar.  Not out of necessity (because luckily, our crop was abundant and plenty ripe), but to satisfy a decades-old nagging question, François and I got down to frying up a collection of tomatoes from the garden one night - some very green, others a paler green, pinkish ones and ripe ones of several varieties.  We did a classic anglaise with flour, egg wash and home made bread crumbs seasoned with herbs, and served them straight up, alongside several other dishes.

All were quite delicious and different, but surprise, surprise - the green ones were indeed the best.  The riper ones were too soft, yummy nonetheless, reminiscent of Tomates Provençale (one of the first dishes we made in vegetable class in cooking school, which also once adorned many a plate in classic French restaurants).  These called out for cheese and texture, say veal or eggplant.  But the fried green tomatoes stood alone - fresh, fragrant, and firm, turned succulent and rich with the buttery breading, a nice contrast.  We used a good olive oil and a touch of butter, but couldn’t help but think that bacon fat would have been killer.  We easily polished off a whole bunch, and François heated up the left-overs in the oven in a myriad of ways in the following days, as a side for steak, and gratin style with melted cheese and olives.

I, on the other hand, came down with 24hr flu that night, a horrible one.  Rationally, I knew the fried green tomatoes had nothing to do with it, but still, I couldn’t face a tomato, green or otherwise for weeks (and I LOVE tomatoes). 

Enough time has passed now, and with the temperature dropping, it’s time to harvest the last of our crop.  We are still picking ripe ones every day but with the remaining green fruit, it is probably better to take them in as is at this point, rather than let them freeze on the vine any night now.  So onto the menu they go.

I will serve them fried in a ‘salade tiede’ with the last of the season’s sea spinach and daisy leaves, with some Terre Promise cheese shavings and bacon, and a crinkleroot (wild horseradish) Caesar style dressing..  Sounds good, no?

Cucumber

If there ever was an overlooked vegetable in the modern culinary landscape - where purple beans, crosnes, chiogga beets and heirloom tomatoes reign, it is surely the humble little cucumber. His new yellow speckled, apple shaped cousin showing up at specialty shops might be peaking some interest, but the familiar green varieties are commonly dismissed, considered bland, boring or indigestible (really? so they say). For whatever reason, cucumbers just don’t elicit much excitement among foodies or even your average eaters. You don’t see them on many chef's menus, do you?

Beating to my own drum, they definitely adorn mine, jazzing up many a seafood entrée or appetizer, soup or salad in summer, and at home they are a daily part of my diet. I love a cucumber salad straight up with an herb salt and a good olive oil, and rejoice in the fresh crunch they bring to so many dishes. Maybe it is the Anglaise in me, but I also enjoy a cucumber sandwich (the only noble use for white bread besides a trashy grilled cheese). I love tossing diced cucumber into a hot soup, spicy curry or rice dish for refreshing contrast - very winner.

An obvious cucumber fan as it is, I was easily won over by the new mini cucumbers by Savoura. Four inches in length, similar to the Lebanese variety I usually buy at select market stands all summer, they are the perfect size - no peeling necessary, no seeds, with crunch, flavour and explosive water content intact. They are produced by a branch in Danville, L’Estrie (the mother house is in Portneuf, QC). The brand also offers little mini packs of three smaller cukes for kids’ lunches (one vegetable portion), available in most supermarkets, very smart for the mom market, I guess. I’ll go for the larger eight-packs holding the slightly more mature specimens with a thicker skin, more flavourful, less perishable.. That's the only thing with these babies, they are more fragile than thick-skinned cucumber from the field, so they won't last as long in your fridge, but being so small and convenient, 'ils se mangent tout seul', shouldn't be a problem.  I’m just happy to have the option of tasty, local cucumbers year round.

The packaging is made in Quebec and fully recyclable, no insecticides or herbicides are used in cultivation either. I can’t help but think about all the energy they use to operate those gigantic (football fields of) greenhouses, but I am told they are looking into alternative energy sources in order to reduce greenhouse emissions.

In any case, I would rather Quebeckers buy from them then pay for the equivalent carbon footprint for a (less fresh) non-local product that is trucked in from the States. Hats off to Savoura and Les Serres du Saint Laurent not just for their cukes, but because they have come along way with their greenhouse tomatoes too. I know everyone likes whining about tomatoes, but honestly, we have a decent choice off season now. I'm up to my ears in our garden tomatoes at this point, so I haven't been checking up on Savoura lately, but I will be in the upcoming monthes for sure.

This is as close as I get to cuddling up to ‘big business’ by the way. I know they have gotten a lot of help from the government, and I wish more little artisanal, seasonal guys were as lucky. Truth be told, I want more than Savoura. But still, this is a progressive Quebec company trying to be as sustainable as possible, putting out a quality product, which in reaching the masses, might help in weaning Mr. Mme. Tout le monde off imported junk in some small way. So, I happily endorse them for that, knowing full well that I will certainly be relying on them come wintertime too. For the occasional fresh tomato, and now for cucumbers too (that you just can’t put up besides in pickle form).

http://www.savoura.com/en/section04.php?no=15

Coups de Coeur this summer so far..

Some expressions are just better in French. How do you translate ‘coups de coeur’?

Highlights-Favourites-Flings of the moment-Things I have a soft spot for right now?

That’s one upside to living in Quebec; we get to dip into the other language for effect, and everyone understands. So anyway, these are some of the things that tickled my fancy and got me excited this summer - the stand-outs. Some are new, some revisited, and not only in the ‘wild and edible’ realm.

Summer is a time of many loves, and my infatuations evolve much more rapidly than the seasons (see previous post:  http://soupnancy.squarespace.com/blog-journalessays/2008/2/6/falling-in-and-out-of-love.html), I could never name them all. Of course, there are annual repeats and constants; I fall in love with sea parsley, cattail and elderberry every year at the same time, and I never stop loving sea spinach, sweetgrass and olive oil year round. In season, Quebec strawberries and Nordic shrimp are givens, as are chanterelles and black trumpets, and just about every other mushroom when their time comes. In parallel to the wild stuff being foraged at the season’s peak, there is the market’s bounty - the fresh radishes, peas and fava, all the baby vegetables, followed by the first ground cherries and ears of corn, the tomatoes and squash - all guaranteed highs.   

 Amidst the regular flurry of beautiful summer ingredients, there are still always surprises - some item that got overlooked last time around or something arrestingly new.. Thanks to the wealth of Quebec’s artisans and the dynamic food world around us today, new products and sources of inspiration are endlessly sprouting up too.

My new and improved nose has only been a help, I have to say; with every bite or sniff, there seems to be an exclamation mark more than last year. When it comes to the wild greens being so marvellous, maybe that’s the rain and not my senses. In any case, here is my list..

On the wild front:

•  Milkweed, the broccoli and the flower: I never paid this wild edible much attention, never got excited about it; now smitten, I wonder why. I’m learning that with the wild stuff, like with getting to know any foreign ingredient, sometimes it’s a matter of time. It so happens that the first milkweed shoots are inarguably tasty and very much like asparagus. I always liked the broccoli for flavour, but found them mushy after the necessary cooking - until this year when I uncovered the way they were meant to be served, in tempura (once blanched). The next stage in the plant’s life is even more enticing, the flowers -so aromatic, intensely floral but with green notes, versatile in either savoury or sweet. I made a kick-ass syrup, a granite, and a vinegar. The delicate buds don’t last long, so we had to act fast; but for a time, they also made a spectacular garnish.

• Day lily buds fresh as opposed to pickled. This year I didn’t pickle any in the caper like fashion (although that’s good too), preferring to serve them in salads and as a vegetable, just blanched and dressed, allowing the crunch and subtle floral/ vegetal/truffle flavour to shine through, along with the fresh petals and oniony dried pistils of course..

• Wild celery: the stalk makes a sipping straw that imparts a potent celery taste, and the dried flowers once pulverized make a natural celery salt (with no added salt) – both perfect for bloody caesers. Add a dash of crinkleroot paste, and you have one wildly delicious, sexy version of the classic cocktail!

• Mugwort, my ‘pizza plant’. I coined the phrase when I first met this plant years ago, because at its best, it smells like pizza, or actually more like fougasse (a mix of olive oil, herbes de provence). I was very curious initially about using it as an herb, but then lost interest because every time I tasted it afterward, it was either bitter or bland. This is the first year that it is as truly flavourful and interesting as that taste memory. The funny thing is that it tastes different in each spot it grows on our property, highlighting how important the ‘where, when and how’ of how a plant is harvested affects its properties (the amount of sunlight and water, the soil, the weather ; François says even the time of day picked). Sabline is another example, in that it is actually edible this year – so gorged with water, the clean cucumber taste is there, without excessive astringency. Yes, I was happy to rediscover the humble mugwort, but this is not an important green in our arsenal; in fact it is considered more of a medicinal plant, and being a cousin of absinthe, it’s probably best kept that way.

• Juniper! Although I have always had a ready stash of the berries(frozen), that are so much better than the bought dried variety, I still manage to forget about them all the time. But, these days, I’m having a hard time making a sauce or marinade without them. Especially alongside the wild berries coming in now, with wine or game meats in a sauce, juniper really blends in well, lending a definite ‘je ne sais quoi’. An experienced palate might detect it, but most people just say ‘yum’, even if they don’t like gin. In a gelée with blackberry atop a mousse de foies de volaille and foie gras, customers accused me of injecting drugs in the recipe, they couldn’t get enough.  

• Sarsaparilla.. I always loved root beer, and I once loved Porto (now too sweet for me), and this native berry tastes like a fruity combination of the two; when used in a sauce or coulis, or as a flavouring, it adds those delectable notes and depth. I bet that would be good with foie too.

• Wine caps (Strophaire à anneaux rugeux) - A noble mushroom variety new on the menu. Introduced to us by fellow mushroom fanatics, I was intrigued, and found them to be so dainty, nutty and delicate. Apparently they grows in wood chips, madly springing up the year after the ice storm, and are cultivated too - no worries, not dangerous. I have to find out more, and am not sure whether we could have enough to put on our mushroom menu anyway, but I’m pretty stoked about this newbie.

• I met the Canada lily for the first time (François says it’s rare in these parts) – what a remarkably beautiful flower – not edible though!

Some Quebec cheeses worth getting excited about..

• Tomme d’Elles de Charlevoix, Maurice Dufour
• le 1608, the now so popular Charlevoix washed rind cheese made from the heritage Canadienne breed of cow http://www.fromagescharlevoix.com/fromages/1608.htm
• l’Etoile Bleu de St-Rémi, my new favourite blue cheese, sheep’s milk
• Terre Promise, which I’ve talked about before, but it’s only gotten better (from the makers of Victor & Berthold, La Racam, Le Fétard) http://www.lanaudiere-guidetouristique.com/La-plaine-agricole/Fromagerie-Du-Champ-a-la-meule/
• Tomme de Grosse Ile  http://www.fromagesdici.com/www/tomme_grosse.asp

Other ingredients:

• Highwood Crossing Canola oil : I fell in love with this oil at l’Eau à la Bouche years ago, but was reminded of it recently thanks to a newspaper article in the Globe.. Referred to as Canada’s EVO because it is cold-pressed, fresh and incredibly flavourful, this is a distant relative to the bland, processed canola oil that is so common. A finishing oil, to be used like the best extra-virgin olive oils, it has a fresh, buttery, nutty flavour, with sunflower seed and subtle sesame notes. I just ordered a 20L tub in the mail. Even with shipping charges, this is a good deal for the quality. http://www.highwoodcrossing.com/index.html

• Pettinicchi olive oils and vinegars: I have long been a fan of these products too, and it is forever exciting when our order arrives for the year, albeit with an ouch (but it’s worth it).. His chilli oil adorns just about every dish I make at home, and is one major reason I could never go completely local. http://www.pettinicchi.com

• Terre Sativa herb salt, and I’m only thinking about because I’m running out.. I don’t use this at the restaurant where I have every fresh herb on hand, but at home, it’s a staple. http://cld.portneuf.com/upload/cld.portneuf/editor/asset/Terra%20Sativa%20fiche%2006.pdf

My ‘coup de coeur’ starter dish of the summer uses all three of the above.. This is a salad that I ate every night at home this summer – little cucumbers and radish slices with Terre Sativa herb salt, black pepper, and chilli oil. Some times I added fresh cheese, or chopped egg or olives, and now I’m slowly moving tomatoes and corn into the mix, while the radishes fade out. Sometimes I change up the oil and vinegar (I have too many favourite oils and vinegars..). You have to love summer for how simple good food can be.

• La Ferme Quebec-Oies: Specialized in everything goose: foie gras, confits, terrines and etc.. I tasted their galantine d’oie (at the Marché du Vieux in Quebec City) and was won over. Clean goose flavour, sooo delicious! (lafermequebec-oies°videotron.ca, 418-826-0942) 

 In the kitchen

• I found a renewed interest and respect for agar.. (I love that it’s Ok to drop the second ‘agar’ now) Years ago, when agar was so very cool, mostly because it was a novel, vegetable source of gelatine that could withstand some heat, I went crazy with it. Only to ditch it eventually, concluding that it was a sub-par gelatine for my uses, and always grainy. It took a couple of years and a class in NYC to find new uses and rekindle some respect. I’ll always be more traditional and tend towards sheet gelatine or eggs for my preparations or any mousse, but I’m a little less biased today. Agar can make a nice liquid gel when you want a scoopable/shapeable sauce, or a vinaigrette with texture. And to set a braised mixture or terrine that you want to serve warm, it is pretty nifty.

• Bamboo steamer. This is a tool I don't call on much, but it came to the rescue when my homemade ravioli were bursting in a boiling water bath and I was in the juice. Sometimes, when you want intense but gentle heat, steaming is the way to go.

• My new favourite tool –a mini slotted spoon. Not holy like a Mac knife or microplane, but still, very useful in the kitchen, especially for plating. I also have a wide, flat topped spoon that is great too for controlled, neat portioning and saucing. Knives are mentioned all the time; the most neglected of important tools in the professional kitchen are spoons (for tasting and serving, slotted or wood, of all shapes, big and small)!

 Dishes, some hits:

Customer favourites

• Cream of Lettuce soup with cucumber, fava bean and bee balm salsa – who would have thought? Usually any soup with mushrooms or wild greens, potato and bacon is a hit.. But with no meat and based on lettuce?? Quelle surprise.
• Scallops. Every scallop dish, whether seared, in ceviche or sashim, it appears you can't go wrong. Paired with wild ginger and sea greens, they especially make for swooning. . No wonder every other restaurant is serving them too, and fish mongers can’t keep up. Bad sign.
• A lobster bisque (Thai style) with sea spinach and cattail (I don’t think it was the wild things here that were winner, more like that heady mix of lime, coriander and coconut milk, and good bisque base of course).
• Strawberry and sweet-grass! Although sweetgrass is like vanilla or almond, good in just about every dessert, this particular pairing soars. I made a shortcake, a pavlova, sorbet and granite, used the mix in coulis, compote and jelly – all lip-smacks and smiles.
• Venison, braised or roasted: I take venison for granted because we have the farm on the property, and so I cook it all the time.. While I don’t want to put it in the starring role every week because I need to change things up, I see that people love it. I think the uninitiated expect venison to be gamey, and so are charmed by the subtle, savoury, better-than-beef quality of the meat. It doesn’t matter if I serve it with a crinkleroot mustard sauce, a wild grape balsamic, a wild mushroom sauce, it’s always a hit. And no matter how creative I like to get, I know I could make a fancy Shepard’s pie every week and customers would be happy. If said rustic dish wasn’t getting as tired as crème brulée in the food world, I might make it more.

 My favourites

• Consommé, wild ginger or mushroom. I realize this is more of a winter dish and maybe I’m ‘in’ because I hadn’t made it in months. But it always excites me more than the customers anyway, who seem just as happy with a typical soupnancy purée type soup, which is so much less work. Why do I bother? Because I like a good broth. Because consommé is cheffy (something you don’t do at home). Because it’s pretty. What I especially like about consommé is the layers of flavour - the idea of boosting my duck broth with extra umph through what I put into the clarification raft like mushrooms or ginger, flavours that you can’t see, but come through strong and clean and clear, pure elegance.
• Crinkleroot French toast (this was a true personal fave); I used it to sop up escabeche but I see it with fresh tomatoes or tomato confit; now, I’m just waiting for the tomatoes…
• Ham and cornbread salad. I love ham and put a lot of love into making it. Customers appreciate it in any given dish, but rarely understand how much work is involved, what special ham it is. Like with the cornbread salad, which is something I have been making since I was a catering young one, I could be using couscous and few would notice. People say yum, but I know the cornbread was for me, more than for them. I tell myself it probably would be less 'yum' if the ham and couscous were store bought.

  Eating oysters throughout summer.

I think this is the first summer that I eat oysters on a regular basis, no matter how oyster-loving we are. Like for most people our age, oysters have traditionally been a fall and winter thing. Even though there has been a good supply for years now in the R-less monthes, and it is better than ever now with the rise in popularity of oyster bars and such. I’m thrilled because they go awfully well with hot weather and sparkling wine, especially our east coast Virginicas. Regardless of how often I try the ‘others’ like the Pacifics or various exotic varieties, I can’t get into that flabby taste; I need the salt, and cold water tang of Malpeques like Coleville Bay, Raspberry Point, Glacier Bay and co..

BTW, An informative and entertaining book on oysters for amateurs and fans, or anyone curious about oysters: Geography of Oysters by Rowan Jacobsen. www.rowanjacobsen.com

Restaurants

• I hardly dined out much this summer, but there was Bistro-Bar Chez Roger, one of François’ favourite spots (by the same chef team as Kitchen Galerie) that I recently got to know: Solid haute bistro market-fare (oysters, terrines, tartares, short-ribs, fish and chips and much more) with good wines, and a great vibe. http://www.barroger.com/

• Tartare table-side! Like in the good old days. And this one was GREAT! At L’Auberge Le Baluchon in St-Paulin, LaMauricie: where the true country setting is beautiful, spa and such comforts included, and there is a refreshing social conscience attached (as far as promoting local producers and Quebec in general, recycling, respecting nature, fair-trade - even healthy and allergenic diets are considered here, poor cooks). The service is earnest and abundant (more than fine tuned); there is a lot to like about this place. Although the food was mostly mediocre for the price, I had that super (REALLY!), nostalgic tartare at night, and in the morning, the best ham sandwich I’ve had in ages at their Eco-café on Berbere bread. Even with just a few things right, because they were SO RIGHT, this Quebec tourist attraction left me with a major sweet spot.

A piece of writing that I thought was fabulous, The Case for Working With Your Hands, by Matthew B. Crawford, A New York Times Article.

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/05/24/magazine/24labor-t.html

Books:

• Apples to Oysters, A Food Lover’s Tour of Canadian Farms, by Margaret Webb There isn’t much true Canadian food writing out there, outside the cookbook, travel and special interest genre.. Here is a uniquely personal account of a cross-country eating tour that celebrates the best of Canada with a focus on a few great artisans more Canadians should know about, who are producing real, good food. http://www.margaretwebb.com/

• Eating at Church, A book of Recipes from Aylmer & Eardley United – Ok, this is hardly a coffee table cookbook and probably of interest to few in the new jet-set world of foodies. But I liked this modest little book mainly for the historical/sociological aspect, because it is typical of thousands across the country in decades past, when the church was so all important in most Canadian lives. I include it here mainly as a reminder of another kind of cookbook, one that isn’t big and glossy or promoting a chef, restaurant or new diet.. For me, it also offered up a slice of nostalgia because I feel like I gobbled up my fair share of this food as a child, not only at buffets in the church hall, but at my parents’ friends homes – hot cross buns, deviled eggs and bean casseroles, recipes that use soup mix and cream cheese, ham spread and jello, cranberry punch and trifle of all kinds - all infused with loads of personality and a sense of community.

• François Chartier’s Papilles et Molecules  I find this stuff fascinating, even if I don’t think it’s so important. Breaking down the flavours in food and wine to chemical components and matching them doesn’t seem to turn up so much more than what we already know from experience or instinct. Granted, there are a few surprises that surface from the mix. In any case, it is gleefully refreshing, even comforting to have science confirm things you already know. And it is inspiring to be led down a different path, say when it comes to rosemary and Alsatian wines.. New ideas open up, only because of his different approach. This is hardly a complete work, but it is ambitious all the same; he has surely done a lot to kick off a whole other branch of wine and food pairing… Even if I know this is not a book I will pick up again and again, I value it now for the novelty, for the odd brainwave it inspired, for all his research. www.francoischartier.com

No - No Julie and Julia!  Haven't seen it yet. 

Back from NYC with a spring in my step

And a new perspective on hydrocolloids

I flew down to the big apple to take an advanced studies class at the French Culinary Institute: Magic Potions: Hydrocolloids. For those of you who don’t know, hydrocolloids are gelling and thickening agents composed of sugar chains basically- things like agar, carageenan, locust bean gum, gum Arabic, cellulose based methocel and xanthan, and gellan. Initially exploited in the food industry, they are now being a

pplied more artfully to fine cooking by chefs for enhanced flavours, new textures and forms. We were also introduced to some enzymes like Transglutimase (meat glue), Corelase and Pectinase (used to clarify), with all the latest technology on display to jazz up the demonstrations and make us envious.

This kind of cooking falls into the domain of ‘Molecular gastronomy’, which by the way is a ‘bad’ word according to just about everyone in the field. But whatever, it is the term that is most widely used to umbrella all these new techniques, you know what I mean.

The class was intense, very high calibre; the teachers were great - tops in the field: David Arnold (the science/tech guy and inventor of some of the tools you see) and Nils Noren (the chef with the mettle, formerly of Aquavit, ‘back when it was great’). My time with them was definitely inspirational; it was a lot to take in, and my brain still hurts. My wining and dining by night probably didn’t help that.

 Nils, David and his hot poker

  David's pimped up mixer the carbonator                        It was a good thing for my faint science background, and that I had read Harold great burger: the cheese is a gel, but this tasted amazing because Nils fried the patties to set then cooked them gently sousvide in suet to refry for crisp, served with a cassis liquid gel like ketchupMcGee, Hervé This and dabbled a bit, or I would not have gotten much out of the barrage of terms, temperatures, methods and unconventional dishes. Most of the chefs in attendance had significantly more hands on experience than me with this stuff, there to fine tune their tricks and ask specific questions.

Surrounded by this set, I half wondered what I was doing there at all. The thing is, I’ve been gradually moving away from this movement, as my main focus has been on a more natural ingredient driven cuisine with less manipulation. It’s hard to picture ‘Les Jardins Sauvages’ and ‘hydrocolloids’ meshing. Thinking back to my first experiments in ‘molecular gastronomy’ (or whatever you want to call it), although fruitful, I was left with Anne’s voice resonating in my head, ‘mais c’est tu vraiment bon?’ ‘Would you walk a mile on your elbows to eat this?’ (loose translation). After the novelty wore off, I came to the realization that old fashioned mayonnaise was often better than a new fangled one, that a chocolate mousse objectively had better mouth feel with cream than without. Even if I embraced sousvide for certain applications and adopted foams for layering effects when I wanted flavour without fat, I remembered that many cuts are just fine roasted, pan-seared or braised, and that Chantilly remains the best foam of all. I wasn’t inclined to carry on the ‘for chefs only’ somersaults for the sake of it. The fact is the average customer does not care what acrobatics you are doing in the kitchen. They only care if it is delicious or not. Taste should always be the main goal, not presentation tricks. Of course there is a small market for food as theatre (like chez El Bulli or WD50), but we’re not that, our spotlight is supposed to be on the wild stuff. Nonetheless, I always stayed tuned into the scene somewhat out of curiosity, regularly marvelling at what these avant garde chefs were doing. While I shrugged most of it off, I remained intrigued, and aware that the landscape had changed enormously in the last few years. I knew deep down that there was something to this and that I should be paying attention.

But I signed up for this class mainly because I wanted to learn something new, ANYTHING. Of the classes on offer, it was the one fit into my schedule, and the one I knew the least about. Regardless of how rustic our place is, I’m still fancy Nancy and no matter how simple I say I want to cook, it never is, I can’t help it. And I do want to stay up to date with what’s going on on the cutting edge; I don’t want to become a dinosaur. Of course, I’m always looking for a good excuse to go to NYC too. I was dying to be around other chefs, to learn instead of teach for a change, to come back inspired and juiced, which is what any conference, class or trip does for me.

Mission accomplished. This class certainly opened my mind, challenging it to stretch in all directions. All of a sudden, so many different things become mind boggling possible, when you remove the constraints of hot and cold, and stop thinking only along the lines of gelatine, cornstarch and eggs. It requires learning a new language and new rules, retraining your instincts as a chef. With each new ingredient, there is a new set of properties.. While gelatine sets cold and melts at 55C, others melt at closer to boiling or stay solid hot, then run cold. Some don’t work in acidic conditions; others need or are activated by calcium, some set slowly, and others quickly, then stay that way or not. To stir or not to stir; to freeze or not to freeze. Specific dispersing and hydrating become ultra important, grams and degrees too, you can’t hack around. All of this sucks for an old school chef who likes a pinch of this and that. No, this is about scaling and precision and spec sheets. BUT! You can produce air out of essence, clarify a juice or stock without cooking it (preserving flavours), get a sauce to that perfect consistency in a flash, and have it coat a protein hot so it doesn’t slide off. You can turn liquids to solids or solids to liquids on a whim, and serve hot liquids in separate layers. You can deep-fry mayonnaise, brulée foams, serve ice cream hot (this is arguably not ice cream), make hot buttered drinks that don’t separate, and serve carbonated sauces that hold… Talk about really playing with your food.

I can’t help but think I could fiddle with many of my classics to make them better, how I could so simply perfect our wild grape balsamic aesthetically; but then, do I want ‘Xanthan’ and ‘tartaric acid’ on our ingredient list? The acids are not hydrocolloids, but a part of the arsenal and approach, you see. A recipe with apple would be more appropriately boosted with malic acid than lemon juice (as I normally do). And why not? But clients might think the product is less natural or of inferior quality with additives they don’t understand; it’s the wine screw cap phenomenon. And like with screw caps, I’m sold, but not everybody is.

That’s the thing with these magic potions.  Despite the reputation of hydrocolloids, it’s not really about adding ‘chemicals’ to food. All of these ingredients are natural in that they are derived from seaweed, cellulose, seeds, tree sap or fermentation, no more foreign than sugar or starch. A few of the latest ones come from microbes. They are also used in such small quantities, and if applied properly with taste as the primary goal (not shelf life or productivity like in industry), it not only allows for prettier plates and surprising textures, but potentially a purer taste, so that a beet taste more like a beet. Our teachers reiterated this, reminding us that hydrocolloids were just innocuous tools that could be used to noble ends or not, treated well or poorly. Their ‘no bullshit’ analysis of each product and what is going on in the field offered me an enlightened perspective on the whole game.  Although I would still rather use ingredients in their natural form (say eggs or lemon juice), there is nothing inherently wrong with using a hydrocolloid when these aren't ideal for the task.  We use powdering gelatine or sugar or starch (all extracted from their natural form) without thinking twice; it's no different, it's just that these powders are less familiar and have unpronouncable names, poor guys.

Some of these products and techniques make so much sense. I know that many are here to stay, transforming the way we cook in professional kitchens - new tools in our toolbox. Anyhow, it’s about time mainstream cooking evolved beyond the ways of a century ago; especially equipment wise, it can’t hurt.

No matter how seductive these tricks are, I’m not too sure how much of it I will end up using. I will cherry pick. First of all, I can rule a bunch out because I just don’t have the expensive toys or space or staff. François was very scared I would come back with all these costly requests. No, I am realistic. I will be lucky to get a circulator on Ebay.

However, I will definitely revisit agar, for the liquid gels. (I thought I hated agar). I can’t wait to play with my meat glue (I’ve often wished for it, say to make a roast uniform, and this week, I will try it). The methocel for eggless meringue and foams really interests me. That’s because I tasted a brilliant, delicate, shattering passion fruit macaron (dehydrated foam) that Nils made. This is a great example of the hydrocolloid providing a purer flavour that would otherwise be diluted by the egg. I was intrigued by the ‘caviar’, but now, I’m less enamoured since alginate caviar are tricky, need to me made à la minute, and the taste of the product is masked, deteriorating quickly. But then, the reverse alginate method shows promise (that’s the ‘egg yolk’ Bo), so who knows. If I have time to tinker, I could very well get carried away. It’s fun stuff.

Because my heart lies with traditional food, while everyone else in the class wrestled for reservations at Wylie’s WD50, Taylor and other hot spots known for doing these new science tricks, I went to Babbo and Momofuku (to their puzzled looks).

At Babbo, I had a blast, but the food didn’t exactly blow me away. It was certainly very good; zippy, bold flavours and delectable sauces, generous portions (too much for me). I had shrimp with radish, fennel, sea beans in a jalapeno vinaigrette (very nice, except for the swampy tasting shrimp), black pasta with pancetta and parsnips, quail with scorzonera and saba,; I also tasted goose foie gras ravioli and fennel dusted sweetbreads with duck bacon and sweet vinegar onions thanks to my neighbours… Some interesting wines too like a white Nebiolo.

Momofuku Saam Bar was amazing! Surprising, a party in your mouth, great ambiance, super friendly service, very reasonable. Of course, I had the famous pork belly buns (wow), a hamachi dish with edamame, horseradish and peas, some oysters with kimchi consommé, and I loved-loved-loved the calamari salad. The fried brussel sprouts in fish sauce vinaigrette, and the spicy pork sausage, Chinese greens and fried rice cake dish were equally delish, again tasting from my ‘friends for the night’s plates. There were delectable sweetbreads as well, with chestnut and mushrooms. Overall, this food was not incredibly complicated, yet unique, fresh, interesting, and super tasty. I would love to try Ko, his more upscale 14 seat tasting menu place, but for that I would need a serious date, more time and $$.

I also visited a teeny wine bar with loads of personality and tons of good wines by the glass in the East Village called Terroir, owned by the same guys as Hearth (apparently one of the partners is from To.).

        As you can see, although I might not have come near a hydrocolloid in my outings, I wined and dined like a queen on my own, but never alone, always surrounded by interesting people who loved food as much as me. At all restaurants, people were so nice, pouring me wine, even inviting me to taste their dishes! I found everyone in NYC so beyond friendly (except for bus-drivers and taxi-drivers – who can blame them?).

Such a mix of sights and sensations, such a treat. So much food for the brain, the heart, and the soul. Gotta love NYC.

As we gear up for maple season, we have our fingers crossed for a good one. Excited by a trickle here and there, it is still hard to tell how it will turn out; it needs to warm up, all while staying frosty at night.

Read my article about our favourite source of sugar, the red maple (The other maple) ,on the Cuisine Canada blog. http://cuisinecanada.wordpress.com/2009/03/24/red-maple-the-other-maple/

Even if it isn't a bang-up maple year, there is reason to smile. We spotted the first sprouts next to the melting snow today, March 24 - may be a record! It is obvious that again this year, the ground didn't freeze (with herbs still holding up since last year..), and is gorgedwith water, which has François predicting that it will be a good mushroom year indeed.

Cuisine Canada has a new blog, http://cuisinecanada.wordpress.com/, and I will be contributing as a voice from Quebec on an occasional basis. I believe strongly in their mission to promote our rich and diverse Canadian cuisine(s), to create an exchange between food professionals across our vast country, thereby strengthening our Canadian culinary identity. Here is my first post: http://cuisinecanada.wordpress.com/2009/02/24/how-to-beat-the-winter-blues-in-quebec-with-food-of-course/

I hardly want to added to the recession talk but ignoring it would leave me with a big, fat elephant in the room. Despite a sluggish winter in the restaurant business, I opt to remain hopeful in reflex to the annoying, aggressive media doom and gloom, but mainly because looking around, I can’t help but notice that food obsessed Quebeckers are surviving remarkably well. So there.

The thing is, food is an upper, an elixir, the perfect weapon or escape for troubled times. When it comes to food, you have to be pretty hard up or down right pessimistic to not find some kind of silver lining, something fun or creative to do, cook and eat, some way to beat the winter blues, especially here in Quebec. We have a joie de vivre clientele that doesn’t really want to let up. We have so much good food. Even the tomatoes don’t taste so bad in winter anymore thanks to competitive greenhouse operations. I must say I might be having a more difficult winter without my put up tomato sauce and all my preserves, but still. There is always the wonderful world of Quebec cheese, and what could be better on a cold winter night than a cheese fondue? Maybe a cassoulet or a venison roast with wild grape must and juniper, a wild mushroom and barley soup, cold oysters with chilli and lemon, or hot steaming mussels with crinkleroot mustard cream, pain de ménage toasted on the wood stove and a salad with Mirabel lettuce and Pierre André Daigneault’s special greenhouse greens.. I’m still not finished with the fall squash, root vegetables and potatoes, and there are still terrific Quebec apples available..

In winter, I don’t think we should beat ourselves up too much about a few imports anyway, for the right products that is (no snow peas from China). We have to have some fun and a touch of the exotic can go a long way in lifting the morale. It is in the off season that I tend to explore the odd exotic ingredients (jicama, tonka bean..), and I will use olives, citrus, truffle and such more than usual, because it’s the only time I feel I can; in summer I have more local abundance than I know what to do with, so it wouldn’t make sense.. I look forward to the winter for that, as well as for any moments to get caught up on inventory, back-logged projects and experimentation.

You see, WITH FOOD to face the winter blues, we have a fighting chance, nothing is ever as bad as it appears, and everyone has a trick or two up their sleeve. And fingers crossed. One foot in front of the other, one dish a time, and next thing you know it’s maple season and spring, a new bounty of ingredients, a fresh source of cheer as colours and crunch flood readily back onto our menus.. By then, hopefully, the looming monster of economic hell will be less frightful, even a thing of the past. If we can survive the winter, ‘he’ doesn’t stand a chance against us and summer food, the farmer’s markets, the ‘terrasses’, the jazz festival.. So there! Hang on, and Bon Appétit!

It isn’t over yet!!

Montreal en Lumière (The Highlights festival):

• The guests: http://www.montrealhighlights.com/volets/table/invites_en.aspx
• The events: http://www.montrealhighlights.com/volets/liste_eve_en.aspx?volet=table
• Cheap treats: http://www.montrealgazette.com/life/prices+amid+High+Lights/1274492/story.html

Our duck festival – two weekends left!

www.jardinssauvages.com

I am so sick of people talking to me about foie gras..

I seldom eat it, I serve it on special occasions, I am a fairly ethical chef in general.. Why me? And enough already anyway.

I don’t love it, I don’t hate it, I don’t have a problem with it really, probably because I grew up in the French influenced province of Québec where food, tradition and indulgence (joie de vivre) are deep rooted in the cultural fabric.

But apparently many people (not around me, but on line) do have a problem with it. So, maybe we should all stop serving it. No matter how traditional or yummy it is to many people. Even if it is not any more inhumane than most of the meat we eat, perhaps it is something that we should rethink. But that largely comes down to the vegetarian –meat eating debate the way I see it. And this is a sub-sub-sub category. Like I have said before, foie gras is a luxury, specialty item, consumed by few, largely produced by small family style operations. In other words, a blip on the scale of our omnivorous dilemmas - nothing compared to the crass, mass produced chicken in cages, the corn, petroleum and antibiotic fed beef, the equally antibiotic ridden and environmentally destructive farmed shrimp and salmon, the un-fair trade coffee, chocolate, and every other industrial thing the vast majority of the western population consumes daily in huge quantities. If you saw how your factory farmed chicken breasts or snow peas or shrimp or chocolate bars or T-shirts were produced, you would be horrified - for the health risks, for environmental concerns, for the slave labour and so much more.. altogether far worse than a few ducks that naturally gorge by design, being fed an excessive amount of corn.

So, just when I thought I’d heard it all on this subject, I got a call alerting me to a contest for making faux foie gras!

Making faux foie gras, the contest: http://www.peta.org/FauxFoieGrasChallenge/

I couldn’t be less interested. I don’t even understand.

First of all, how do you make vegetarian foie gras? I’m a cook, not a lab scientist. This is obviously a call to those anti-foie, creative molecular gastronomy dudes (I wonder how many of them are out there?) or maybe agribusiness food science geeks. Such a task calls for ‘meat glue’, emulsifiers, stabilizers, all kinds of chemicals no doubt, and then maybe some fatty vegetable like avocado, some chicken bits, who knows, who cares.. It recalls the once novel but ultimately HUGE aberration that was Margarine, and industrial, processed food in general. The idea of manipulating elements, concocting seductive pseudo-foods marketed for convenience and profit, like all those trans fats and refined sugars - think the biggest mistakes of the last few decades. The opposite of real food! I’m against it.

If you don’t want to eat foie gras, then don’t. If you don’t want to eat meat then don’t. I don’t get this contest, or any of that fancier vegetarian restaurant fare that embraces the concept of making foodstuff look and taste like meat. If you want to eschew meat, then vegetables, grains and legumes are good enough on their own. You can make them tasty without shaping them into meat and crustacean shapes with chemical help, less manipulation is better anyway. I eat vegetables all the time, I rarely eat meat, I know. But I also know that a little meat is probably a good thing. Not only does your body tell you so, but read this when you get a chance .. http://soupnancy.squarespace.com/im-a-natural-born-killer/

All to say I’m not too sure why I’m getting so much attention from both pro and anti foie crusaders; the few times I’ve spoken about it, I feel like I made my stance clear. http://soupnancy.squarespace.com/blog-journalessays/2007/7/22/foie-gras.html

It seems that I was diplomatic enough to have encouraged all kinds of people to write to me, and many yahoos who don’t seem to have gotten what I was saying. No, I don’t think they ever read any of it. They just saw a site where foie gras was being debated and so wanted to insert their propaganda. If they post it on my site, I leave it. If they send it to me as an email, I delete it. I’m willing to engage in dialogue, but with them, there is no dialogue, they have their mind made up, they assume I do too; with no arguments, with an aggressive ‘like it’s so obviously bad because it’s cruel’ kind of attitude, they so turn me off. I would let their words rest on my site if they had the guts to do so, just not in my personal inbox. Like I said before, I would like to see what’s in their fridge and cupboard before taking them seriously -if they are those two-faced unconscious people who eat mass produced chicken breasts from Costco and have never spent any time in nature, haven’t met a hunter in their life or a seal outside a PETA video, never think about where their own food comes from, but then are against foie production - no it doesn’t add up, and I can’t deal. I’m just so tired of that debate.

I have our duck event coming up, so I will be serving foie gras. After that, I don’t know, we’ll see. But it’s going to come down to being more about what my customers say than what these guys say. I have my finger out in the wind, I am flexible, but at this point, it seems that foie makes Quebeckers happy, they’re not quite willing to give it up as a special occasion, celebratory kind of thing. And without any moral high ground I feel solid on, I am willing to accommodate them, at least once a year.

The funny thing is that when it comes to fish, I’m quite a bit more opinionated, I don’t leave it up to the customers at all. I have been avoiding over fished species for years, to the surprise of any fish monger I came across, I was causing a ruckus 5 years ago .. But it’s because to me, especially now, that is much more black and white as an issue; we have devastated our waters with undeniable detriment to the planet, and it’s currently an incredibly neglected cause. Fish as we knew it no longer exist, thanks to trawlers, greedy governments and their indiscriminate technology (ours too), and uninformed eaters of course. The marine eco-system has long collapsed. We have no choice but to choose to eat from the bottom of the food chain and to research the particular sustainable fisheries, anything else is truly criminal or just insane even health wise.. (‘Bottomfeeder’ by Taras Grescoe is a must read BTW). Thankfully, oysters are still good. As long as we have oysters, who needs foie gras. But seriously, we have to be more worried about our fish than our ducks. And I have better things to do than try to simulate foie gras, thank you.

Our winter wonderland

We play as the plants rest

In the same patch of woods we spend our summer season foraging, in winter we play. For miles in all  directions out our back door, from our home and the restaurant, there is now nothing but snow covered trees  and hillside, the trails we have carved out in sweat, the odd skidoo or dogsled trails in the openings, and lots of animal tracks everywhere. We are out there cross country skiing or snowshoeing, with not another soul in sight, be it in the maple plantation across the street (where we were picking greens in the Chef’s domain), or across and along the river and around the table champêtre on private property for hundreds of acres - several feet above the crinkleroot, the wild ginger and the mushrooms that keep us so busy all spring, summer and fall. With nothing to pick or put up, all there is to do is ski, snowshoe and maintain our trails. We can take a 2 minute, 30 minute or 1 hour trip to work by ski depending on which route we choose. Under the shining sun, or by moonlight, we are out there regularly taking advantage of the short slow season we have that is January, the month everyone else curses, our month of bliss. February brings Valentine’s day, our duck festival, not many days off, so now it is..

  Out back the table champêtre where the river is ferocious at spots our skating rink In the woods by night: this picture does not do justice   

Bringing oysters home by luge 

Winter wonderland yes, but it’s not a complete free for all. Oh no, there are strict rules that François has set out for this city girl: No skating on the river without him. No crossing the river except where he has carefully marked, he knows his river. No skiing off the trails after dark (headlight or not) without him. He says I’m dangerous because I’m not afraid enough. He thinks I’m a space cadet, that I’m not very ‘wood smart’(his version of ‘street smart’). It’s true that I can be incredibly unobservant in general in real life (ie. when not in the juice). Ask my girlfriends who have redecorated.

So it is; as we glide through the woods, while I’m completely at peace but caught up in my thoughts (or focusing on my ski performance and how fast I’m going), he is looking outward, in tune with nature, taking note of every shrub, tree and animal track, piecing together or re-enacting a wildlife drama from the tangle of paw prints and broken branches. He stops to show me the difference between the prints of a bobcat, fox, coyote, hare, deer and squirrel, the droppings too. Not unlike on a drive through the country or a trip out in the summer season, a trek through the woods with François des Bois is a string of stops and starts. You never know when he will stop dead in his tracks because he heard or saw or sniffed something. Unaware, I regularly ram into him from behind on my skis. It also reminds me of rollerblading with him on the Lachine Canal (once my version of nature) on one of our first dates. We could never pick up any speed because he kept stopping to marvel at or analyse some curious weed or flower along the way. At the time I thought it was cute. I like flowers and weeds, but I do like to go fast. In our trails amidst the deep snow, unlike on a rollerblade path, I have no choice but to follow suit. I’m not complaining really, more like chuckling, it ain’t so bad. Lots of fresh air and exercise, and now I know a fox trot from that of a lynx. I think.

All that time outside in a slow, Zen-like state, coasting, the adrenalin flowing at a steady stream, allows for good clear thinking too; I can’t help but brainstorm like crazy, so many menu ideas, so many moments of clarity, so much fun.. Just when I’m about to solve all the world’s problems and Eureka!, sure enough he breaks it all with a halt - time for another ‘nature capsule’ with François des Bois. After learning about another type of tree bark, bird species or critter hole, any prior moment of annoyance quickly evaporates and a good buzz regains hold of me as I calmly look up at the moon, basking in the pink light I now all of a sudden notice. Good thing he stopped me goddamnit. Wow. But then, instead of solving the world’s problems, I’m fixated on the abundance of fox and hare tracks he’s shown me, I’m a hunter and gatherer, I can’t help but wonder about a trap or two, c’mon, just one itty bitty hare for my pot.. I could ski out and collect dinner. Apparently squirrel is good too, but hard to skin, hmm.. Could I do it?

Same woods, a new world.. So much I never saw, never knew, never smelled, never felt. Even ‘us’ in ‘our woods’ with no pressure seems like a first. In my time out alone too (when I broke lightning speed I swear), I was bewitched - I felt watched over, but loose, carefree (like I used to feel blading down the middle of Sherbrooke St. at 2am), but now in a forest that is starting to feel like home.. The woods in winter are incredibly blank and tranquil in comparison to the mesmerizing cacophony of teeming life in summer. You can hear the trees, the wind, the snow, and occasional signs of the few brave souls still living there.. It’s almost more powerful, , a tangible source of raw energy, a sure grounding; a new host of ideas and a fresh perspective naturally spring forth..

I know I sound like a flake, but I really can’t believe how much I’m moved by nature season after season, especially now that I’m paying attention. With every season, nature’s kiss is as sweet, only different. This winter, I am happy to be there for it and open to it. It will only bring better things to my kitchen; maybe no hare, but who knows how wild I’ll get with all this fresh air coursing through my veins..

May all your joys be pure joys,

And all your pain champagne.

A New Year’s toast, from a card Ange gave me years ago.. I love it. Then again, I am partial to champagne. And joy. Joy and Champagne, Champagne and Joy, they go together.

On a more serious note is the following quote, a long lost one that I had been meaning to dig up since Thanksgiving.. still appropriate months later - timeless in fact. I figure that before we get to looking ahead, hoping and wishing, and making new year’s resolutions, or soon enough caught up in the business of life in 2009, we might as well hold on to a minute of holiday cheer to be thankful.

‘If the only prayer you ever say is Thank you, that will be enough’.

1260-1328 (Meister Johann Eckhart)*

It’s a good thing to remember all year don’t you think? A noble new year’s resolution of sorts on its own.

So yes, I start this year off feeling thankful. Even as the abundance of fresh and local ingredients has dwindled to nothing, I am thankful I still have so much to work with. Even as business slows, and the phone isn’t ringing off the wall, the reservation book so easy to navigate for a change, I feel thankful. Not only for days off like a normal person, but for all the food we put up, for the staff we’ve held on to, for all my friends and family, for the small, flexible nature of our business, for our simple life in the country, for nature’s beauty and bounty. Each season brings a different backdrop, a new playground and a breathtaking view; now with the river iced up and the trees snow laden, another spectrum of sights and smells is there to envelope and inspire us.

Even in the dead of winter, it seems easy here to keep plugging along, there's time to catch up and test out some tricks.  Customers seem more joyous than ever. Cooking feels especially good in the winter somehow, so much more about hearth and restoration than ingredients, more primal, urgent and gratifying in the cold, with the hefty appetites, only the die-hards showing up - who knows, can't put my finger on it exactly..  I guess there are the slow braises, the welcome warmth of the stove and the steaming pots. I relish the alone time in the kitchen, the brainstorming, the puttsing -such luxury, and on the flipside, how clean my hands get doing my own dishes..

I just feel thankful for what we have, and that I can still do what I do. And I am optimistic that people will forever be looking for something fine to eat, for an occasional walk on the wild side.. If not, I’ve got a list of rainy day projects to attack, François has a lot of cross country skiing to do. No, I’m not worried about us, but I do worry, mainly about all the worrying knats polluting the atmosphere.

I despise all the naysayers, the rampant predictions I keep hearing about how many restaurants will bite the dust in 2009 - Shut up already. No doubt, some will fall, there are already too many restaurants in Montreal for the market, but these are hard-working people losing their shirts, shirts that are already worn thin. And there will be no bail out packages here. It makes me sad. But at the same time, I have faith in cooks and restaurant people in the long haul; we are a resilient type, we can deal with some rough times. And we generally don’t have a ton of stocks and bonds and savings to lose, just another job to find at worst. There is always honest work to be found, some niche to carve out for the determined ones that want it.

Nonetheless, I do hope that this economic doom and gloom doesn’t get the best of us as a whole. My tour of the annual ‘best of 2008’ and ‘top trends & predictions for 2009’ type foodie lists turned out to be less amusing and more depressing than usual, likely because the word ‘frugal’ came up far too often. Although I am hardly extravagant, I embrace ‘smart’ and ‘sensible’ and many ‘frugal’ type activities like home cooking, recycling and sustainable agriculture, I hate ‘frugal’. There is no fun in ‘frugal’. Certainly many of us, no matter how fortunate we are, will have to buckle down to some degree, at best less champagne or prime rib or shoes, at worst, real stress in providing basic needs .. Still, I wish the media would stop screaming wolf, telling us we should freeze and be frugal, that we should stop going out and eating good food and doing anything remotely frivolous or fun.

Pull out the crock pot and buy vegetables instead of TV dinners - yes, stop hanging out at the mall –yes.. But worry-worry, fret-fret, hibernate and forget about the lamb chop or the artisanal cheese, don’t dare smile in face of the monster around the corner –no way! Give me 100g of Tomme des Demoiselles – yes , a kg of Kraft Cheddar - no. Take me out to a fine restaurant once please, instead of 5 dinners at Cockadoodledoo Mega Chicken Chain, you know the one on every other corner. We can figure out what fat we can trim all by ourselves, and I know there is plenty there, but it’s largely not on the plate anyway. We spend a smaller percentage of our income on food than any country in the world. There are lots of ways to survive and even have a little fun, no need to panic.

We can buy less crap for one. Maybe we’ll even be forced to work less or for less, and consume less all around. I see that as a good thing, a chance to slow down, to reassess, to gain perspective, to value what we do have and can purchase, to appreciate a treat for a treat, to find joy in the simple things. We can always spend our money better, no matter how little we have. As the economy slows and businesses collapse, I am cheering for the good guys to survive - the small, unique, ingenious, authentic and earnest entrepreneurs, over the big, soulless, corporate purveyors of marketing imposed disposable junk. Quality over quantity. Less can be more. In times like this, when there is less than ever to go around, it seems even more important to vote with your dollar.

I’ve never been one to live in fear. I will always be a Babette, willing to spend my life’s savings on people, a good meal and a good time, for better or for worse. I might lose sleep over a lot of things in 2009, but I vow that the economy will not be one of them.

Whatever lies ahead for you, if and when you’re trimming the fat, don’t forget that fat makes us smile, fat keeps us warm in winter, that there is such a thing as good fat. A little fat goes along way, carries a lot of flavour and makes other fancy flourishes secondary.

Here’s to fat and champagne (Cava will do) and refusing to be afraid of the future,

Here’s to 2009!

*I need to double check this source; for some reason, I always thought it was Voltaire..  Regardless of the source, the message is a universal good one.  I seem to remember it being tied to God and religion (or the lack thereof in the debate), which makes it even more meaningful and powerful, transcending all beliefs, a human crux.