soupnancy

Finally, the local wild mushrooms are out in full force!

An autumn day harvest  graylings - a rare treat in the chanterelle family

Armillaire pesant; Swollen Stalked Cat
Parasol

Hen of the Woods

 Slippery Jack - a yellow bolete that is especially good dehydrated.

Poule des bois/Hen of the Woods haul

Besides the Hen of the Woods (our favourite), the most spectacular is always the giant puffball, in season now. 

I have had multiple inquiries on how to cook it.

So, here’s the deal. It is easy enough to identify; if it is still firm and pristine white throughout when you slice it, it is good to eat. They go yellow and soft (not to mention) pungent smelling as they age past their prime.

The best way to cook a giant puffball:

Peel and slice. Pan-fry or bake on parchment with a good amount of fat (I start with oil and finish with butter), flipping half way through. You want to gently brown it, on medium heat as opposed to high.

With its sponge-like texture, I find that it cooks up quite like eggplant. Best eaten straight out of the pan, it gets soft and loses volume as it sits, although it will taste good no matter.

It has a strong (ish) mushroom flavour, so I like to layer it with other flavours like tomato, cheese or root vegetables in a lasagne or gratin for example. It makes good soup too.  You could dice it up and make spaghetti sauce, the options are endless.

It's not all about the puffball, especially with Matsutake season starting. I'm busy putting up the fall boletes for our dried mixes and butter etc, as well as yellowfoot chanterelles and hedgehogs, hundreds of pounds a week. We are still waiting on the autumn oysters and another half dozen varieties to complete my upcoming annual mushroom fest menu.. http://soupnancy.squarespace.com/wild-mushroom-event-october/

Red Mouthed Bolete, a dessert fave

Armillaires Couleur de Miel; Wild Honey MushroomLactaires DelicieuxComb tooth and Yellowfoot Chanterelles

With the current trendiness of local, seasonal food and notably wild produce, naturally many foodies and chefs are eager to have a go at foraging themselves. After all, it is a part of our heritage living off the land, a rural practical tradition that was slowly largely lost (luckily except for in my partner François’ family).

Wild edibles being our passion and business, (Les Jardins Sauvages a pioneer, thirty years in now), naturally we are delighted that people are curious and open to eating our terroir treasures; however, there is a downside  to this trend.. Many among this new set however excited in theory are city dwellers and completely disconnected from nature; they are not afraid enough, or careless , wanting to go too fast without sufficient knowledge, or respect for nature and awareness of sustainability issues.

It is important to have some background information before attempting to forage on your own.

Equally, if you purchase wild food, you want to know that the seller is first of all certified with an official business, knowledgeable and respectful of nature, picking sustainably, mostly on private property if not owned then with permission. Especially restaurant Chefs who are dealing in larger quantities should take responsibility when they put foraged foods  on their menu, ensuring that it is from a reliable sustainable source (paid for with bill). The increasing number of hacks and black market is dangerous on all levels not only in terms of sketchy product commonplace, but in terms of sustainability of the resource with no traceability (picked how, where, by who). Not to mention that without the overhead of running a business, these occasional pickers crash the market making it difficult for an experienced business like ours doing it right, working with the government and schools, dealing with inspectors and paying taxes etc. (and who paved the way to boot).. Awaiting regulation, the best we can do is keep doing our thing while educating..

I recently hosted a crew of explorers who were here for a forest cooking competition (Woods Greatest Canadian Explorer)  in a survival type series of challenges (airing July 28th) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aIvl5CWwZdw . We gave them a crash course in foraging with many of the wild edibles on our property before they had their cook off using wild foods and regular camping gear and dry goods. When customers come to the restaurant for a workshop dinner too, these are the main points we share with them about foraging before they go out identifying and tasting with François.

Photos of Quebec wild edibles

Bonus below are also a couple of easy recipes that you can dress up or down, meant to be doable while camping.

Foraging Tips

Chef Nancy Hinton, Les Jardins Sauvages

Know what you’re doing!

Ensure proper identification. Don’t rely on only one book (especially with wild mushrooms).

Ensure proper picking, both for taste and Mother Nature. There is a specific way for each wild edible (how, when and where).

Some greens are hardy, growing like weeds in the right environment (like lambs quarters, garlic mustard..) while others have a slow reproduction cycle so can easily be endangered if over-harvested (like ramps/wild garlic, wild ginger, crinkleroot). Don’t touch unless you know the life cycle of the plant and that it is in a healthy population.

In general, don’t rip out roots. Prune tips or leaves from mature plants, leaving buds; leave young baby sprouts alone.

Leave more than you take.

Besides for sustainability, there is also a proper way to forage for deliciousness and digestibility. Some plants are best picked in the morning (say dandelion), others at noon (say some flowers and goats beard).. Some plants are tasty when growing in a moist humid shady wooded area, while bitter, even inedible in a dry sunny season or spot, as with live-forever, wild rocket and mustard, sea chickweed..

Keep in mind that many wild edibles need to be cooked, for example: fiddleheads, milkweed, most wild mushrooms. It is a good idea to wash your harvest. When cooking, follow your palette: If it is pungent, use sparingly like an herb; if it is mild, then use as a salad green or vegetable.

Don’t be in a rush. Be cautious, not stupid.

Books and google searches might be a fine help, but there is no shortcut for experience.. Time in the Woods is Key! The best way to learn about foraging is to get to know your property or a patch of land/woods nearby that you can visit often, observing patterns, trees and what plants/mushrooms grow where every year, including the impact of your harvest (if you have permission to pick.)  Start with a few plants and mushrooms, get to know them well and slowly widen your scope every year.

Some wild greens/vegetables to explore without fear: Live-forever, trout lily, violet leaf, day lily, fiddleheads, lamb’s quarters, amaranth, garlic mustard, wood sorrel, sheppard’s purse, wild mustard leaf, wild celery/lovage.. Always keeping an eye out for familiar wild berries, wild mint and chives..

Some wild mushrooms to start with: 

Boletes (A family of hundreds including Porcini with the sponge under the cap) – While not all are of interest, they are not dangerous.

Lobster Mushroom – characteristic red colour and shape

Chanterelles – there is only one ‘look alike’ and easy enough to differentiate

Oyster/Shelf mushrooms on maple trees. Most are good when young, avoid really old rotten trees.

Be afraid of very pretty picture perfect mushrooms – often the deadliest!

Fish baked with crinkleroot, tomato and wild herbs

Chef Nancy Hinton, Les Jardins Sauvages

4 portions

Ingredients:

500g                                         fresh fish fllets (or 1x 2lb whole fish, gutted)

45ml                                         Butter and/or olive oil

1 c (250ml)                                shallots or onion, sliced thin

60ml (1/4c)                                sliced wild garlic (or 30ml minced garlic)

15ml (heaping Tbsp)                  steak spice

125ml (1/2c)                              white wine

30ml (1 Tbsp)                            crinkleroot (or horseradish)

375ml (1 1/2c)                           diced tomato (1 can)

250ml (1 c)                                heavy cream

1.5L (6 c)                                  wild greens such as lambs quarters, sheppard’s purse/wild rocket sprouts, mustard leaf, amaranth..) or spinach/greens of choice

60ml (1/4 c)                               wild herbs such as wood sorrel, garlic mustard leaf, lovage, ramp leaf, chives, angelica, yarrow.. (or dill, tarragon, basil/ herbs of choice)

To taste                                    salt, pepper

To taste                                    hot sauce or chili

Method:

The fish can be cooked whole and served off the bone too. It all depends on your camping set up and mood.

Sprinkle the fish with steak spice.

Heat large pan or pot on burner or fire, sweat onions in butter/oil a few minutes, add garlic and crinkleroot, then white wine, tomatoes and cream. Place fish in sauce and top with wild greens and herbs, season to taste. Cover and bake or cook gently for 15-20min or until just starting to pull apart. A whole fish will take twice as long.

For the simplest method: All the ingredients can be put in a covered pot on the fire or in an aluminum foil packet (en papillote)..

Wild Mushroom Rice bowl

Chef Nancy Hinton, Les Jardins Sauvages

4 portions

Ingredients

225g                                         wild mushrooms (such as chanterelles, hedgehogs, lobster mushroom, young king or yellow boletes, black trumpets..), cleaned and sliced

45ml                                         grapeseed or olive oil

15ml (1 Tbsp)                            butter

1/2c (125ml)                              chopped shallots or onion

30ml (2 Tbsp)                            wild garlic (or half as much garlic), sliced thin

10ml (2 tsp)                               wild ginger, minced

250ml (1c)                                 long grain rice like basmati

125ml (1/2c)                              white wine

30ml (1 Tbsp)                           dried mushroom powder

375ml (1 3/4c)                          water or broth

To taste                                   Spices (ex. clove, bay leaf, pinch thyme or curry powder..)

To taste                                    salt and pepper          

1L (4c)                                     Mix of wild greens and herbs such as lambs quarters, dandelion, wild rocket, ramp leaves, day lily shoots, daisy, sorrel, mint.. (or say spinach, watercress and basil, coriander, mint..)

30ml (2 Tbsp)                           Olive oil

Optional                                   splash sesame oil

100ml                                      pickled mushrooms, fiddleheads, kimchi or pickle of choice                                                    

To taste                                   Chilli/hot sauce

Method:

Sauté mushrooms in a hot pan with oil. Once they start to colour, add the butter and onions and turn down the heat to medium, cook a few minutes and add the rice, garlic and ginger, stir to coat the rice. Add the mushroom powder and wine, reduce slightly. Add the water/broth, season with salt, pepper and spices of choice. Cover and cook over low heat for 15-20 minutes, until rice has absorbed liquid and looks almost done. Remove from heat and let sit 5-10 minutes.

Meanwhile, toss greens and herbs with a good oil, salt and pepper.

Serve rice topped with salad and pickle.

Add a fried egg, tofu, cooked sausage, leftover chicken/steak or protein of choice for a more substantial meal.

Ok, enough with my seasonal rant about eating local and fresh, enjoying the seasons in time, blablaba..

The reality is it is still winter, everyone is fed up, what to do? No choice but to suck it up, get out when the sun is shining, cook up a storm at home with imports or whatever will make you happy in the moment. Chez Nino helps.. The snow crab and nordic shrimp have begun; Another key address at Marché Jean Talon is Ferme René Lussier for great local tomatoes! 

But! Of course, I have to say something about eating well off season too, and that comes down to putting up. No one talks about it past Sept/October, but this is the time to convince any gourmand that it’s a good tool to have in your box, FTR utterly essential in my world for year round happiness. Now is the time to dream ahead and start planning for next year.

Eating seasonal food out of season is very cool too.  Local, fresh, put up at its peak. It’s our way at La Table des Jardins Sauvages, and we've been trying to convince people of this for years with our line of local & wild vegetables and mushrooms that are frozen sous-vide. It's beginning to catch on in winter, one customer at a time, from the market clientele to chefs.

At the restaurant, we have our roots stored for the winter, greens blanched and vaccum packed or dried, mushrooms, pickles, frozen berries, coulis, tomatoes, peas, corn, game, you name it ..  We have a fully stocked pantry and ten freezers. It’s a parallel approach - taking full advantage of the season, gorging on fresh while preserving the bounty for later.. It becomes normal to eat ramps, fiddleheads, corn and sea spinach in winter as if the seasons don't matter, but it means we have local and wild all year, our trademark. Like in the old days, it just makes sense, and its delicious..  So basically, we’re following the seasons, except for in winter when you eat the other seasons from the gardemanger.

Trust me, you will be less grouchy in winter when you have a freezer full of goodies and canned goods in the pantry.. The thing is, with a whack of preserves, no matter how brutal the weather, you don’t need much to be content, maybe a touch of green crunch and tomatoes from local greenhouses or a bunch of romaine from the store ..  Not to mention that if  there is a major catastrophe, you’re covered for a while (I’m waiting for the next ice storm, we will be wining and dining, weehah!).

So keep that in mind before the growing season starts! Think like a cook, MEP (prep) for the year.. Enjoy the moment first, but don’t forget that at the same time, you could also be preparing for next winter without too much effort. Clean or cook a bigger batch when making dinner, pop a few containers into the freezer. Take a few hours a week, or a day a month in summer/fall, make a party of it, and put up! A foodie stay-cation?! Canning is a good idea for tomato sauce and pickles, but most things are fine, even best just frozen, often blanched/cooked first as with vegetables. Of course, a sous-vide machine to vacuum pack is ideal but I find that most things for the home are fine in Tupperware style containers.  I do our soups and sauces that way and they keep well for months so you shouldn’t be afraid to freeze if you don’t have a sousvide machine.. A dehydrator is great for an array of things, from herbs to fruit to onions and mushrooms.  

These are my lifesavers, some ideas to get you psyched and ready..

Quebec Garlic/Ramps/Scapes:  With the bulb or root, mince and pasteurize by cooking slowly in oil (no colour). Freeze in small containers or sousvide. Pull one out every month for the fridge and every day cooking. Leaves can be transformed into raw pesto (frozen) as with scapes and used the same way. A knife tip/scant teaspoon goes into my salad daily. (Our ramps our picked sustainably on our own property for home use only).

Stinging nettle: Great dried (for tisane, soups, to grind as an herb/seasoning/food additive) or blanched and frozen for soup.. Or made into soup right away..

Most salad greens are best eaten fresh in season and that’s it. Sturdier ones like spinach/lamb’s quarters can be blanched and frozen. Which means you can’t make salad with them afterwards, but they make a nice veg accompaniement or added to soup, pasta, omelets, smoothies etc..

Herbs: Dried or Pesto. I dry some except the most delicate, and make pure pestos, say with sea parsley, sea rocket, crinkleroot leaf (minced with oil, salt) and freeze in small containers to use in cooking. For the market/home, I make a finished pesto (sea spinach, sea parsley, garlic, cheese..) which is ready for pasta, pizza or whatever.

Salted Herbs: I love this old-fashioned recipe which consists of mirepoix (onion, celery, carrot) minced with a ton of chopped herbs and summer greens (a dozen plus) and salt.  I use this magic potion to boost stews and soups, for quick sauces and marinades. I use less salt than a traditional recipe so I freeze it, but it could keep in the fridge for months)..

Tomatoes  - Sauce is the easiest. Whole tomatoes are nice to have too. I can both in mason jars, but it’s easier to freeze, less trouble and you don’t need to worry about ph (acidity). If you jar, make sure you know what you’re doing, add some lemon and boil the jars for 10min+.

Wild and cultivated vegetables, buds, corn, fava beans, peas.. Clean, blanch a few minutes and freeze sousvide or in ziplocs. Some vegetables are best roasted (say squash) before freezing. I pickle some buds and fiddleheads, but keep most natural for later use. For some, it’s a one time seasonal soup and that’s it (served fresh at the restaurant, or packaged and frozen). Forget about putting up asparagus, say.

Mushrooms: I put up 30+ varieties in a myriad of ways, it depends on the mushroom (Dried/Frozen/Pickled/Candied..). Some are best dried (those with a soft texture or with aromas that only develop upon dehydration as with boletes); some firm varieties can be frozen as is but not many as they often develop a bitterness, on top of a mushy texture; many I have found can be frozen well after a first cooking. We have a frozen, local ‘Melange Forestier’ (with first cooking) that we introduced last year, just starting to take off as customers/chefs realize that it’s a good deal, local quality variety that you just can’t get here in winter and if you buy fresh, imported and cook them up (losing half in water), it ends up costing you twice as much. Forget about wild mushrooms in winter otherwise beyond the dried for soup/sauce/stuffings.

Stew/Braised meat:  In hunting season, I make big batches of stew from moose, duck, partridge etc and freeze for the winter. When we slaughter whole deer, I keep all the tender muscles for roasting, make sausage and braise the rest, making stock with the bones – all gets frozen for future use.  I highly reccomend meat sharing (a carcass from a local farm, butchered in pieces, shared among 2-4 families) if you don't have a good butcher like Prince Noir nearby.

Fish/Seafood is best fresh, but still when you come across whole fish freshly caught, filet it up and freeze (this is best sousvide or if not cooked within a couple of months). Nordic shrimp and scallops IQF if fresh.

Berries, fruit: I make jams for the shelf and coulis (both canned, as well as some less sweet for the freezer); I like to freeze most berries whole (and rhubarb diced) IQF to cook with them year round.

Pickles:  Ok, pickles remain a condiment, not a main course to drown the winter blues, but how nice to have on hand to punch up a salad or accompany a charcuterie plate with sparkle, color and crunch. Besides the classic JS fiddleheads and mushrooms, I pickle a shitload of things, have a few traditions like hot sauce and ratatouille that aren’t wild at all, but necessary in my pantry, like my natural green bean pickle and peppers.

There are so many more possibilities on all fronts, from the cooked to the pickled, or natural fermentation (more tricky), to wines and alcohols, extracts.. I steep herbs in alcohol (thé des bois, foin d’odeur, juniper berries, elderberry) too.

Certain precious things should be kept seasonal, because they are best that way. But who’s to judge. Almost anything you love can be put up in some form or another. I like to eat ramps and sea spinach year round (a relatively new luxury habit of mine being with François des bois), which in fact only makes me more excited when the season starts, so I can stock up..

I hope I have you revved up for the growing season, and eating well off season too.. Don't despair, the greens are around the corner!

Happy Spring!

PS and BTW, many of these preserves, we sell at our kiosque Marché Jean Talon if you don't feel like doing it yourself..

Cough syrup meets dessert

When winter and flu season come around, we often brew up a batch of François’ special tisane to boost the immune system and diminish cold symptoms.  Featuring wild ginger, Labrador tea and tusselage flowers (coltsfoot), it is quite alright.  Sometimes we throw in some calendula.  Citrus and honey are natural additions, even a splash of rum - much better.

It’s hardly tried and true, but that’s because we rarely get sick - thanks to all the wild stuff surely.  Maybe also because we don’t have kids and live in the country.  This year however, that throat-chest cold that went through my circle of friends in Montreal made it to St-Roch.  So I took down the pots of dried flowers and weeds and made a batch of herbal tea.  I also did the chicken soup thing, and pumped up the garlic and chilli dosage in everything, no problem.  I never got sick - as in stay-at-home or work-less-than-50-hours sick, but the scratchy throat lingered.  There is only so much tisane a girl can drink.  Bored, and because everyone else around me was sick, my ears perked up when François got talking about the ancient remedy for cough syrup with wild ginger. 

So I made one.  A light cane sugar and water solution that I infused with a ton of wild ginger (this is expensive cough syrup).  And then I threw in some lemons for good vitamin C measure, and at the end just to steep, some Labrador tea and that awful tusselage, following the tisane trio.  Because I happened to be making wild strawberry-sweetgrass coulis at the time, I added some pulp to my syrup just to give it that familiar red colour and fruity taste.  Otherwise, elderberry would have been a good choice, with its inherent anti-viral properties.  Next time.

The final product was tasty, somewhere between medicinal and delicious like dessert.  I know that if I left out the coltsfoot and lemon rind bitterness, it would swing all the way to dessert.  In any case, this is the best cough syrup you will ever taste.

I am no sweet tooth, and have never been able to ingest cough syrup; ask my mother.  As a kid, it took several people to hold me down in order to get a tablespoon of the stuff in my mouth, as with fish pills.  But this wild, gourmet stuff, I could potentially slurp.  When my throat was acting up this week at work, I just walked into the cooler and took a swig, no fuss.  Other staff members, whether feeling under the weather or not, followed.  (Don’t worry, not directly from the mason jar).  Intrigue, delight!  We were even passing it around by the teaspoon to curious clients.  The general consensus is that it works too!  It certainly soothes the throat, but it could very well be the novelty or the yumminess - the oh so powerful placebo effect kicking in. Not that that is so different from any over the counter medication, I reckon.  So why not go the delicious route with home made cough syrup that doubles as dessert?

Come to think of it, that’s my solution to everything..  I’ll take oranges over Vitamin C pills, and fish and greens over omega 3 pills any day.  A diet big on fruits and vegetables, garlic, ginger and chilli, wild plants and mushrooms with all their phytochemicals and anti-oxidants, on top of small portions of natural protein and fats.. It’s all the doctor ever ordered, and so easy to follow.   Good shopping and cooking is all any of us really need. 

Ok, and an occasional rest.  A hit of ‘cold potion’, tisane or cough syrup made with love can only be bonus when there is a killer bug going around.

I often used to make a ‘cold potion’ in other kitchens I worked, for the cooks as soon as anyone seemed to be coming down with something.  Because the reality of kitchen life is that there is seldom question of taking the day off – you generally have to be on your death bed to acceptably bail on your team.  In any case, the idea of a ‘cold potion’ just ignited the cook in me - the inherent desire to concoct something good for others.  For staff meal, it was time to get creative with a garlicky, gingery, spicy stir-fries heavy on the veg and greens, or a hearty chicken soup.  More practical was a liquid potion, easy to down on the line (there’s not always time for a meal).  Rummaging through any restaurant walk-in, you find the necessary components for a decent remedy or two.  The starting point for any magic healing beverage, hot or cold requires pulling out the ginger, citrus and honey. Ask the bar tender for a hit of hard stuff and/or ginger ale and you’re set.  There are always other tasty, nutraceuticals (Chocolate! Nettle! Mushrooms!) one can throw in.  Now I have a full arsenal of extra wild stuff to add to the mix. 

Cold season is actually, kind of, almost fun. 



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.

“I have wild garlic in my back yard. What do I do with it?”

“Where can I find ramps in Quebec?”

“How do I pick them?”

“Am I breaking the law?”

“Wow, you have ramps! Can we have some?”

So many ramp inquiries. Let me attack a few.

If you have ramps (ail des bois) in your backyard, I suggest you just cut off some of the leaves. You can chop them up and throw them into any salad, sandwich or dish. I have been using it everywhere in the past weeks: in shrimp or lobster salad, in green salad, on tomato-bocconcini salad, on pizza, in a cheese sandwich, in mashed potatoes or risotto, on warm buttered fiddleheads, in any soup or sauce..

If you want the bulbs, you just dig in with your fingers and feel around, pull gently and slice the bulb at the base. You want to leave the root strings in tact, if you want them to come back. The bulb is good used in the same ways as regular garlic, but it is more delicate, so it doesn't need to be cooked as much or even at all, if you like the fresh, pungent flavour. I know many people who love to eat them whole in their natural glory; they are popular pickled too. While the leaves are to be used as a fresh herb, I think the bulb is best sliced (as opposed to chopped) and just kissed by heat, thrown into the pan at the end, or onto a pasta or hot dish. If overcooked, it loses all its personality.

We mostly just use the leaves though, for several reasons. For one, it is their floral, mild (for garlic) flavour we prefer. And since it is illegal to exploit ramps commercially, we only use them at home, for family and friends. Actually, in Quebec, you aren't allowed to be caught with more than 50 bulbs. Harvesting ramps is banned in Quebec because the plant was disappearing from over-picking. Ramps are a long loved tradition in rural Quebec, and people were eating them to extinction. Since the demand was there, overzealous and ambitious pickers were pulling up the roots, not only for personal use, but to sell. Since it is a plant that is slow to grow and reproduce, it became threatened. If only it was harvested correctly, all would be fine, but unfortunately, there are always a few bad apples to spoil the fun. Meanwhile, in Ontario, New England and everywhere else, they are still regularly ripped out by the roots and sold at markets.

The last reason why François shaves off all the leaves in his patches on our property is to safeguard them from ramp loving thieves! Without the leaves, no one can know the precious plants are there. Plus we are assured of a bountiful return every year. Sure, we will snag a few bulbs over the course of the season, but always ever so carefully.

We need to make some ramp butter after all (usually coupled with the bite of crinkleroot that so happens to grow in unison with ramps) to pull out when a lobster comes our way, or for the odd grilled cheese sandwich. We will put up a batch for François’ family too, and that’s it. For us, ramps are one of the supremely seasonal things that we celebrate for a few weeks and then leave be.

At a catering event last week for a friend, because it is the height of spring, we used them liberally everywhere, and it was a hit. All guests were instructed to munch on a leaf upon entry to break the ice – everyone that night would smell like garlic and that was it. It would surface in every other dish amidst the 8 course meal, and they were drinking Champagne, fine Burgundy, Amarone, Sauterne etc. - no matter. It provided the main joke (and magic) of the evening.

Spring sandwich ramps, Tomme de Maréchal cheese, pickled pepper

tomato-crinkleroot shrimp with ramp leaves and trout lily

Have you ever tasted a fresh chick pea?

François brought me a pound of the first Nordic shrimp of the season back from the market today, and since this is my “dada” (weakness), I hardly noticed the bag of green things idling on the counter. When I saw them, I became excited again – what, green almonds?? This was almost too much for one night. When he told me they were chickpeas, I was taken aback.

It is not every day that I am faced with a complete stranger in the kitchen, although I love the feeling – the childlike discovery, engaging all the senses in trying to figure out what to do with a foreign specimen. I slid one little green jewel out of its perfect oval pod. It was so loose in its skin like it wanted out, I popped into my mouth; it tasted fresh and herbaceous in the raw state, crunchy like a regular fresh pea. Very nice, but I couldn’t help but think it might be even better. I wanted to cook the lot.

But I had a few guests sitting in the dining room, and I knew that if I got to shucking these babies, dinner would be served hours later. Besides, I already had the meal planned and on the go. I didn’t want to make my dinner party wait. However, as a chef, I could hardly push such a specialty item aside out of inconvenience; I would feel soo guilty knowing that these delicacies were at their freshest only to be sitting in my fridge, their sweetness turning to starch as we ate our fish.

No, now was the time to serve them. So, I decided to throw them into boiling water for a minute or two, then sprinkled them with some salt and chilli oil, thinking how good edamame are that way. Like with whole peanuts, let the noshers do the work. The “kids” could pick on that, sucking the nuggets from their skins themselves, while I fixed dinner. They turned out great - everyone was surprised!

I now know I love fresh chick peas, but chances are I will never shuck another. For most recipes, I will remain with the naked, dried variety. But in season, the fresh peas make for a sublime snack, especially when you leave the work to your guests, which makes them only taste better and go further anyway.

The Elements of cooking

January 2008

Michael Ruhlman has a new book out called ‘Elements of cooking’ with a blog to accompany it. blog.ruhlman.com/elements_of_cooking/ It’s all about the basic principles of cooking, as in let’s put the recipes aside and try to understand what’s going on. I love that approach, and I think it’s especially relevant these days in the era of flashy food TV, when foodies are heading to the kitchen armed with star chef signature recipes and no hand me down knowledge from their grandmas. The emphasis in the food media is on the recipe, like that’s all it takes to turn out a successful dish. Even professional cooks themselves are busy getting carried away with new techniques while young cooks are leaving school without knowing how many millilitres are in a cup, focused on creating or on how fast they can chop. Just about everyone has lost sight of the basics.

But the beauty about the basics is that once equipped with a certain understanding of them, you rarely need a recipe for more than inspiration, you are liberated, and better equipped to play around, to troubleshoot when something goes wrong. And for the professional, a look back to the basics is only a good reminder tool to help make sense of all the new stuff going on. The oft overlooked underbelly of fine cuisine is the unglamorous, ‘boring’ study of the elements, essential to any cook.

So, yes – let’s study water as a vehicle and cooking medium and let’s talk about the ‘aromats’, the common building blocks of soups, sauces and braises. Let’s review the different kinds of cooking methods, the different cuts of meat, let’s delve into the process of thickening things and emulsifying things. Harold McGee’s article in the Times about heat (the invisible ingredient) is another perfect example of some basic information more helpful to any home cook than some fancy recipe.. http://www.nytimes.com/2008/01/02/dining/02curi.html?_r=1&ex=1357102800&en=8a147e3904430a08&ei=5089&partner=rssyahoo&emc=rss&oref=slogin

Breaking things down into the elements, we can look at the properties of ingredients and pick apart basic technique, but in effect all we are doing is drawing on what generations past have done, and allowing science, as it slowly catches up, to qualify it some. In our imperfect grasp of food and cooking phenomena, knowledge of the classics or culinary history in general is still key, science secondary. Knowing that something has been done for hundreds of years a certain way does have some merit, which doesn’t mean we can’t dissect it, try to understand it and riff on it. With empowered superchefs and molecular gastronomy the rage, novelty and science are in the forefront, so tradition and history are easily sidelined, especially here where we have little tradition and history. Yes, every once and a while, there might be a true modern improvement or invention, but mostly we’re just revisiting the old with new eyes. The way I see it, keeping that tie to the past is a big part of what’s fundamental, and something that's become clear to me with time.

Of course, it’s natural that a cry for ‘the elements of cooking’ would strike a chord with me. As a cook with a scientific background, I’ve always been someone who is drawn to the how, the why - I ask questions. In my early days, even now, I read passionately. If I look to a recipe, I look at 20, I look for common threads, I draw my conclusions, form a mental master recipe of general guidelines before trying anything. I gobbled up Harold McGee’s ‘On food and cooking’ in 94 when it was the only thing out there on the science of food and cooking. I always gravitated towards general manuals over cookbooks, to publications like Cooks Illustrated over the flashier recipe dense magazines. I tackled the concepts before taking down crates of chicken or peeling tubs of potatoes, the opposite path of most cooks. But performing the menial tasks in a kitchen are just as important as grasping the elements, hence the common prejudice against the ‘theory’ side. But you just can’t turn out consistently good food or climb the ranks in a professional kitchen without both.

That said, I certainly didn’t move forward thanks to my speed and technical skills or any fancy French CV. Besides being organized and being a fighter (which every cook requires), my force has always been more idea based. My focus has always been on the big picture, and so slowly, a certain creativity and vision has come along with it, however immature. But I always knew that it was a knowledge of the basics, both in terms of science and tradition, that would enable me to see the links, to see that such and such is just a derivative of such and such, that an ingredient is flavouring and not a building block so that it can be changed, how to pick apart or create a recipe, etc.. Hence my mission of ‘Desperately Seeking Truth’ through constant reading and in my need to go commando in the kitchen. It’s all an effort to clear up some of the fuzz in my big picture, to connect more dots, to find another piece to the puzzle. And to have a better ally when trying new things, a bridge between the old and the new..

I’ve noticed that when I stray too far from planet earth by getting too experimental and flaunting or forgetting some basic principle, it inevitably backfires and I resurface feeling stupid. I am personally somewhat of a schizophrenic in that I jump forward wanting to try it all, and then I back up and cherish the old ways. I’m dying to make spheres out of beet-wild ginger juice, wanting to push limits; then again, I’m very into lying down next to Escoffier. I love tradition and simple food, but I love stretching the brain and tasting new things. I go through my push-pull phases, always playing around, rarely doing the same thing twice, making up recipes when I could easily follow something tried and true. Then again, I want the focus to remain on taste in my cooking, and on the products we have, not on any of my kitchen antics. Nonetheless, within every freshly executed dish or unscripted kitchen exploit, eventful or not, lie a few kernels of truth to add to my arsenal of cooking knowledge, a line or two to draw on my map. You see, a reverence for the elements of cooking keeps me grounded while spurring me on to new challenges, truths and tastes.

In contrast, following recipes blindly doesn’t offer anything beyond a crapshoot at something edible. It is actual cooking, critical thinking and paying attention to the principles at play that make for real progress and satisfying time in the kitchen.

So, next time you find yourself tackling a recipe for which you don’t have all the ingredients or the proper equipment, plough forward anyway, use your head and learn from it. When you pick up a cookbook, take the time to read the background information on the recipe if its there. Repeat the same recipe a few times with alterations in ingredients or technique, and see what happens. Try to free yourself from the fear of failure and the printed recipe by grasping on to the bottom line, or just by having fun.

On the other hand, if you are working the line in a kitchen, then just listen to the chef and think about it all later. Sometimes too, it doesn’t hurt to be forced to do something foreign to your own thinking if only to learn why you would never choose to do it the same way in the future.

Understanding everything is impossible, which is why cooking is so endlessly fascinating. Maybe understanding the elements is not everything, but trying to seems like a natural starting point and the eternal home base for cooks. It can prove an undeniably powerful tool, is definitely enriching, and not at all boring. It wouldn’t hurt all cooks to pay attention. I welcome more books like Ruhlman’s The Elements of Cooking to the culinary landscape.

There’s so much interesting stuff being published (along with the junk) these days – its overwhelming and heartening. Maybe one day, we’ll actually understand as much about food and cooking as we do about microchips and putting men on the moon.

October 24, 2007

Jo the stuffer

Chantale and Jo on a roll

sanglichon sausage with black trumpets and cèpe gelée

having fun with sausageI love sausage. I’ve never been a huge meat eater, but I can’t live without all the derivatives, like broth and sauce, the drippings of a roast or sauté, the enticing aromas of a braise, and of course, the nasty bits that make SAUSAGE.

There is something so sexy about charcuterie - the salting, the curing, the occasional smoke, the tactile kneading, stuffing and filling, the tease of waiting for the final result.. There’s the thrill associated with the alchemy at play in the transformation of humble scraps into something exquisite.

Apart from some basic rules you must follow, there’s a major dose of magic and mystery in the process, from finding the proper ratio of flesh to fat to seasonings, to the right temperature and humidity in order to favour the right enzymes, bacteria and molds. You can delve into the romance and history of a regional specialty and try to recreate a traditional recipe, or you can go commando and be as creative as you dare. When it works – wow. At its best, you are rewarded with beautiful firm links to hold and behold that deliver a heady, complex taste you can savour for weeks, or even months. A stash of charcuterie allows you to throw together a gourmet snack or meal in a heartbeat. There’s nothing like a bit of pancetta or chorizo to make a fad dish sing.

I would choose sausage and all its cousins over filet mignon any day. There are all the magnificent hams like Proscuitto di Parma or Serrano (that merit a love-in of their own), patés, terrines and mousses. Strictly speaking sausage, there’s chorizo, merguez, saucisson sec of all kinds (calabrese, rosette, etc.), there’s mortadella, and andouille in all its versions. Come to think of it, I have never tasted a ham or sausage I didn’t like, except for a low-fat lamb-liver concoction once.

I’ve always been drawn to store fronts where sausages dangle, to cold buffets, to antipasto plates, and to sausage books. I find perusing mouth-watering pictures of sparkling sausage and the detailed technique involved incredibly titillating.

And I’ve always wanted to be invited to a sausage party (I’ve only heard of them), but then again, the cleanliness - hygiene aspect, or lack of control thereof, with hoards of people, drinks flowing, a lack of space, and hence possible contamination (all very important considerations in the making of sausage) would probably bad buzz me..

Over the course of my life as a chef, I’ve made sausage here and there - on the job, experimenting at home, I’ve even taken a course.. So, if you don’t count the loose variety, I’ve made sausage on average once or twice a year for 10 odd years. They’ve always turned out, but I’m hardly an expert, which is probably why the urge strikes any chance I think I can make the time, when challenge is beckoning.

So with my last sausage escapade a fading memory, some sanglichon to use up, a mushroom dinner event on the horizon, and a lot of energy coursing through my veins, I felt it was time to make sausage again.

I had forgotten how fun it could be. And how stressful it could be. It didn’t help that I planned it rather poorly, putting 10kg of meat to cure the day before a chaotic schedule with 50 customers booked (big for our shoebox of a resto) ..

The following day, I had no choice, the meat was waiting, and besides, I had extra staff with a stagiare on hand - no problem.

I gathered my meat (several shoulders), some scraps and fat back, cut them up into cubes and put them to cure separately. The rule is 15-20g of kosher salt per kg, with 1-2g of nitrate salt, 5g of seasonings.. Your fat ratio should be at least 30% and you have to make sure you keep your meat is cold. 4C is the upper limit, so -4C (half frozen) is a good place to start, with an ice bath to catch your finished ground meat or at least a quick chill between steps. The remaining specifics vary according to the kind of sausage. Some absolutely require nitrite salt (if they are not cooked), some are seasoned more if served cold, some are ground once or twice or even puréed and bound with an emulsifier. Some are cured and dried, others are cured, smoked and dried, and the simplest are just made fresh and cooked. There are as many recipes for sausage as for stew.. Following a recipe is a good idea, although I can’t seem to do it. A book I recommend is Ruhlman’s recent ‘Charcuterie’ for it’s straight forward explanations and gorgeous photos; it seems to be a good overview of the sausage world using slightly more seasoning than the traditional European recipes I am used to.

Anyhow, so I started by making a reduction of shallots, garlic and red wine, added my spices and mixed them in with the salt and meat. I put the fat in the freezer, my meat in our very cold walk-in, figuring that the next day, I would have an easy time of ensuring my overall mixture would be properly chilled. On the day, I assembled my wet seasonings: more wine, mustard, my sautéed mushrooms. We put the meat through the grinder (on medium) once, added the mushrooms and put it through again. Then we beat it vigorously with the wet seasonings, chilled it some more and started casing (hog’s casings).

That’s when the real fun started – the sausage talk.. It happens naturally as a couple of people start getting their latex covered hands dirty, digging into raw meat, stuffing, receiving and twisting. It takes communication and complicity between the stuffer and catcher for success, and it’s even more fun if a few others are there on the sidelines coaching and being vocal spectators. I was directing the show in all seriousness, hopping in from time to time making sure the kids (Jo, Chantale and Sylvain) got it right, but I couldn’t help but get caught up in the silliness of it all as everyone cracked up at what I was saying, shouting out rebuttal. When you’re doing sausage, the discourse inevitably turns juvenile, at times crude; in fact it was side-splittingly funny for hours.. ‘No, slower, faster, hold it tight, loosen up, you’re too nervous, relax, pay attention, stop thinking too much, feel it, be gentle, you’re going too fast, woah that’s big and hard, wait it’s overflowing, ok now you’ve got it, go go – we’re on a roll, you’re good, we’re good, are you getting tired, don’t stop now we’re almost there..’ You can imagine the rest. In French, it’s much better. It got even juicier with the second batch late at night after service when the wine was flowing.. I couldn’t help but chuckle at customers who might be overhearing the kitchen antics not seeing what was actually going on. It certainly sounded like we were doing a lot more than just making sausage and cleaning up.

The final outcome of our tryst besides a good time: 10kg of less than perfect sausage, and very expensive sausage at that when you count the food cost and labour. The seasoning was spot on though, I couldn’t be happier with that. It was the texture that was disappointing; it was on the dry side. I should have mixed in pork instead of going with straight sanglichon, more fat surely wouldn’t have hurt. Maybe I should have used more liquid and beat it more or used an emulsifier binder, some powdered milk or something. I had always had stellar results before when I was being less meticulous (and probably less cocky too).

Oh well, it was worth it. But now, I can’t wait to go again. This time, I’ll pick a rainy day and use more fat. And I’ll definitely make a party of it, sausage calls for it.

Welcome the snow and bring on the soup. 

Now that we’ve gotten our first snow and the weather is officially colder, true to my monicker, I am finding myself inspired by soup. Because I have made so much damn soup in my life, I have had somewhat of a love-hate affair with soup over the years; I’m in, I’m out.

I have to admit, soup has made me many friends over the years, fixed many colds and squabbles. And I do have many great memories when it comes to soup. When you grow up in this climate, how can you not? Turkey soup was definitely a tasty highlight in my otherwise quite flavorless childhood (Sorry, Mom). I even fondly remember that brilliant hockey arena chicken drink with the parsley flecks. I remember spending my entire allowance on a soupe à l’oignon gratinée as a kid, my first real full service restaurant experience. In high school, Rachel’s mom used to make a dal soup that roused my taste buds. Tonkinese soup proved a revelation to me when I first moved to Montreal. So did Hot and Sour. I became interested in cooking as a waitress and malnourished student, while chowing down on Gaby’s great home-style soups at Grumpy’s: Cock-a-leekie, old fashioned pea, cream of mushroom. I learnt how interesting soup could be when I tasted gumbo at the Cajun house. As a young cook, I would use soup to show my colors, knowing that the chef might even let a beginner go with the soup; I proved I could be inventive and resourceful with soup. I learnt how important stock was. When pressed for a last minute soup du jour, there was always stratiatella: broth, eggs and parsley and lemon.

In my early soupnancy years, when I was making gallons of soup on a daily basis, there were moments when I was on the verge of souping out, but there was always some new soup to bring me back. I had my first luxury soup (as in 20US$) in NYC at Picholine featuring trumpet mushrooms, chestnut, squash, pork belly and truffle. Jon introduced me to chicken matzo ball soup. I also remember a delicious lentil soup with foie gras at Les Caprices. Many more years of making buckets of soup, on a time frame with limited resources, while secretly wishing I could be doing more noble things like rabbit three ways, eventually took their toll. After that, I went on to avoid soup for a couple of years, especially the purée/cream variety. I never bored of broths though. After some soup-free time playing with exotic things like game, foie gras and sea urchins, I cozied up to soup again. I think it was Jerusalem Artichoke soup at l’Eau à la Bouche that brought me back permanently.

Now, I relish eating and making all soup. I always enjoy a good wonton soup, especially as a midnight snack. My fetish soup of the moment is this Cambodian lemon chicken thing at the Thai place around the corner. I even made my own this week at home. Of course, I put a different soup on every menu at the table champêtre, so soup is a part of my daily routine. Even so, I still tend to forget about soups easily, and I take them for granted all the time.

This week, however, as I was making my leek soup, I found myself fixating on it. Often as a cook, you brush over the soup; it is the no-brainer thing you put on the stove while you carry out all your other more important mise en place. Today, it was different, I could not stop stirring and tasting my soup. I found it delicious and so important all of a sudden. Not only was I happy to make a dent in my endless supply of leeks, but I was reminded of how good leeks are, how good soup is. I decided it would be my star that night, I would dress it up so that everyone left that night remembering the soup, which seems to always be the underdog on a tasting type menu. Maybe some brioche croutons with boletus oil, or a sea spinach dumpling, maybe some bacon and wild herbs, maybe some Fétard (beer washed Quebec cheese)... Not that it needed anything really, but people don’t come here to eat soup like I would make it at home. They want fancypants, otherwise they feel cheated, like you’re serving them leftovers rather than serving them a real entrée. Nonetheless, if you bling it up some, I have found that you can really surprise people with the soup... This one would kick ass.

It did. But it wasn’t the accolades, it was the process: the chopping, the stirring, sniffing the aromas, the finishing... that made me find solace in that pot of soup. I had entered the kitchen in a blue, blah mood, and shortly after, all my troubles were washed away, and I was excited about soup and cooking and living all over again. That is the power of soup, so comforting, so simple, yet so satisfying.

No matter how long I cook, regardless of how many times I repeat the same kind of motions, everyday, I manage to find something different to marvel about. It might be some new ingredient to discover or some seasonal ingredient I am happy to be reaquainted with; it might be some forgotten about method or old recipe that I decide to dust off and try, or again a new technique I want to play with. Other times, it will be a random brainwave that makes you suddenly “get” something, a taste or a method or a dictum or something you once read. And occasionally, it is just a flash of clarity in the mundane, something you see everyday that suddenly startles you with its beauty and order. This time it was soup and leeks. I had rekindled my flame with soup and felt alligned. I made squash soup the next day and it felt just as good. Next week, who knows...maybe an old favorite, mushroom barley or something more sophisticated, maybe oysters with parsley root or sea parsley and boletus...hmm.

Because I am soupnancy, I can’t tell you how many people ask me about soup. Everyone loves soup and no one seems to take the time to make it. Most people don’t realize how easy it is. Once you’ve made a couple, you no longer think it’s a big deal, and you won’t need a recipe.

So here are my tips.

The problem is that in most cases, soup requires good stock, which is a pain to make. Well, not a pain, but you do need bones, a large stockpot, some time and not mind that the aromas will take over your house for days. Luckily, you can purchase good stock now, and even some packaged ones on the market today are less offensive, although they do need some help. If you have enough meat or vegetables, it will turn out fine, even if your stock is water. You can either use a good stock for your soup, or you can use a weak stock and pack it with stuff, your choice.

Basically, there are two types of soup: a broth with floaters or a purée/cream. Old style cream soups sometimes use flour (like a Béchamel puréed with vegetables) or plenty of cream. Nowadays, we generally make them with less cream and more stock or milk, with more vegetables, and either potato, rice, beans or roots to thicken.

Obviously, when it comes to a broth based soup, a good stock is essential, and then you add whatever you want, like with chicken noodle, beef barley and most asian soups. When it comes to a purée or cream, the process is always the same: you purée cooked vegetables with liquid and seasonings.

With this purée style soup, you always start with onions or a mirepoix (onion, carrot, celery). (Don’t forget, everything good starts with onions!) Then you can add leek and garlic if you want. At this point, you can add ginger, any spices you want. Then comes the main ingredient and the liquid. If it is leek, or potato, squash, tomato, brocoli or beans.., you add that, as well as your liquid. With a delicate vegetable like cauliflower or jerusalem artichoke, I might use half water and half stock. With squash, I choose a poultry stock. With mushrooms, it could be chicken, duck, beef, dashi, or just water and dried mushrooms. With caramelised onions, you want veal or beef, and with corn or artichokes, I might go for clam juice or mushroom or chicken broth. Often, for a mixed vegetable soup, a vegetable stock or water is fine, as long as you have tomatoes or tofu or miso or seaweed or beans or something. Vegetarian or not, you always need some umami for body, and to feel satisfied.

Back to the method. So, your vegetables are simmering in your broth. If you want to add some substance depending on how watery your vegetables are, then you can add some potatoes or cooked rice or bread. After a half hour or so, or when all is cooked and mushy, you blend it up, and adjust it to the consistency you desire with more stock or water or milk or cream. Basically, you want to make the soup on the thick side since it is easy to thin it down at the end. You can strain it if you want to be fancy. With most soups, it is not really necessary, unless you’re dealing with some fibrous vegetable like celery or asparagus. At the end of the soup making process, if I’m in an extravagant mood, I like to finish with a touch of cream and/or a pat of butter for mouthfeel.

The last step is tasting and rectifying. That is, adjusting the seasoning. For me, that means finding balance. Not just salt and pepper. A touch of something acidic like lemon or sherry vinegar, or rice wine vinegar or balsamic depending on the preparation. And a touch of something sweet if the vegetable isn’t already sweet, maybe some maple syrup or honey. Then maybe a touch of some spice in the form of Sriracha, sambal, chili or a couple of drops of Tabasco à la Anne.

With your simple soup, you can do so much. You can just sip it as a tonic, freeze some, or use it in a myriad of ways! With a variety of garnishes, you can make it a meal, or dress it up for company...

soupnancy says.. “Get out your soup pot and get cooking!” Go with your inspiration, with what’s in your fridge, or pick up a cookbook... I've listed a couple of my basic recipes below (take a look at the possible garnishes to spur you on) and there are a few more in the Recipes archives  http://soupnancy.squarespace.com/recipe-archives/.  And feel free to ask me for a specific soup recipe.

Leek soup

4 L

½ onion, chopped

1 stalk celery, minced

3 leeks, sliced

3 cloves garlic, minced

1c white wine

1 tsp thyme

3 L chicken or vegetable stock

2 potatoes, peeled and chopped

1 c cream

2 Tbsp fresh dill

s.q. salt, pepper

s.q. lemon

2 Tbsp olive oil

1 Tbsp butter

Sweat onion and celery in oil over low heat until translucent. Add leek and garlic and sweat slowly for 10 minutes. Deglaze with white wine, reduce down. Add potatoes, thyme and stock. Cook 20-30 minutes until potatoes are soft. Add dill and cream, cook 10 more minutes, blend and season, finish with butter. Thin to desired consistency with milk. Serve and top with garnish of choice.

Garnish with:

Fresh herbs like chives or parsley or dill.

Cooked seafood, steamed clams or mussels (add juice), or smoked salmon.

Stewed leeks.

Truffle oil.

Bacon.

Squash soup

4 L

2 L squash chunks (Hubbard, butternut, sweet mama or potiron)

1 onion, minced

2 carrots, minced

1 stalk celery, minced

2 tsp minced garlic

2 tsp minced ginger

pinch curry powder

pinch chili

1 c cider or white wine

2 L chicken stock

2 c milk

2 Tbsp maple syrup

1 Tbsp lemon juice

s.q. salt

1 Tbsp butter

s.q. olive oil

Toss squash pieces with a bit of oil and roast on a baking sheet at 400F for 30-45 min. Meanwhile, sweat mirepoix in a bit of oil until soft. Add garlic, ginger and spices, stir-fry, deglaze with wine, reduce. Add stock and simmer.

When squash is caramelised and somewhat tender, remove and add to soup.

When everything is cooked through, blend, season, thin with milk to desired consistency and finish with butter. Top with desired garnish.

Garnishes:

Crisp squash and fresh herbs.

Cooked bacon, ham or smoked duck.

Soft goat cheese or parm.

Mushrooms or mushroom oil.

Toasted coconut and sesame oil, coriander or basil.

Garlic Soup

I like to make this soup with day old bread à l’Espagnole, but I have found that it is more widely appreciated thickened with potato.

4 L

1 leek or onion, chopped

30 garlic cloves (5 bulbs)

1 tsp dry chilli powder (ancho or pasilla or any)

2 c white wine or sherry

3 L meat stock (chicken, beef, duck...)

1 tsp thyme

½ tsp rosemary or sage

2 c dried bread cubes or cubed potato

1 c cream

s.q. tabasco, worcestershire

s.q. lemon

s.q. salt, pepper

s.q. water

pinch nutmeg

s.q. olive oil

s.q. butter

Sweat the onion or leek in a bit of olive oil over low heat with smashed garlic cloves slowly for 20 min. Deglaze with wine or sherry, reduce down. Add herbs, stock, and potato if you’re using potato. Simmer for 30-45 min. Add dried bread and cream, simmer 5 minutes, blend. Finish with a pat of butter or extra virgin olive oil, thin with water or milk to desired consistency and rectify seasoning.

Garnishes:

Chorizo. Or any sausage.

A strong tasting cheese like an old cheddar, a blue, or a goat cheese.

A chopped bitter green (watercress, arugula, endive..)

Caramelized onions.