soupnancy

A day of foraging – just what the doctor ordered

Oh and then there’s that upcoming mushroom extravaganza of mine too, for which I am still waiting on 9 out of the 22 varieties with less than two weeks to go (more urgent than any doctor’s orders). So with an uncertain mushroom future and a desire to get out of the kitchen for a day, it was time to get out there and hunt. We decided to tag along as François went on a prospecting run to check on some of his spots. It’s only good for cooks to get out in the woods every once and a while. For the therapeutic effects, but also to value the work and good fortune behind the mushrooms they are cooking up.. The quiet of the woods was somewhat broken by the regular neophyte questioning calls out to François, but despite the badgering breaking his communion with nature, I think he was happy to have so many extra pairs of hands.

François reaches for an autumn oyster sometimes you need a stick

Theo and a patch of shaggy mane

On our field trip, we never lucked into a mega patch of anything, but we found a bit of all sorts: yellow-brown boletus, larch boletus, blewits, a few delicious lactarius, even a couple of chanterelles, some clitocybe, some shaggy mane, one chicken mushroom, some autumn oysters (those were a lot of work). Overall, it was a good day. Stéphanie didn’t get lost in the woods, Theo didn’t fall out of any trees, no one got hit with a stray bullet (it is hunting season after all). And we got a good dose of enthusiasm for what is to come – the autumn varieties are really only starting. We clocked in ten hours or so (five people) and came back with a half trunk load, hardly remarkable, but promising. It was enough for a feast in any case; we scoffed down a meal of veal with bolete and polypore sauce, and sautéed oysters served purely on the side, (and a tomato salad with crusty bread, of course), sweet. It no longer mattered that our knees and fingers were stained brown, that we were exhausted or that we hadn’t gotten anything else done that day.

3 guys, 1 mushroomBut then, there was poor Theo who fell into the stinging nettle a few too many times while caught up in securing his oysters from the heavens, who also ended up with his car in the ditch on the way home. I guess there is a price to pay for all out mushroom fever.

 

chicken mushroom

The progress of a cèpe d'automne in our yard over the course of a few days- amazing!

Day 1

Day 3

Day 5

Vesce de loup (Giant puffball) contest

(details en Français à suivre)

François has launched his annual puffball contest, that is a call to all adventurous nature buffs (or anyone strolling through the woods) to bring in any giant puffballs for the chance at a prize. The owner of the largest (or should I say heaviest) one collected before September 30, 2008 will claim a 400$ value meal (for 4) at Les Jardins Sauvages during our wild mushroom event in October.

We’ve already received several entries; the biggest so far picked by my very own diamond-apprentice Jonathan at 12 lbs. He stumbled across it on his neighbour’s lawn. Never mind that it was his only day off in a while, so proud of his find, he drove in from the country to François’ stand at the market, much to everyone’s delight. Passers-by were snapping pictures, incredulous that this massive white globe was indeed an edible local wild mushroom. He got to frying bits of it up for curious customers, and ended up spending the day there amidst the excitement. You see, it was 3 times the size of his head, and no matter how much he would have liked to leave it on display, the fact of the matter was that it was ready to be eaten.. Although still pristine white and densely spongey throughout, it was a day or two more advanced than ideal for good keeping; in any case, these babies are best eaten right away.

François has come in with a few of his own too; although not quite as big, they were slightly firmer, which is what we like, hence the weight of the mushroom carrying the most importance. François’ record puffball weighed in at 18lb back in 2000.. With the terrific mushroom season underway this year, and an early start, we expect quite a few more to rival Jo’s (fingers crossed).. He’ll be working anyway (?!).

The contest is more for the fun of it all; the truth is that I would prefer many medium sized ones instead of one mega one for the best taste and texture. Not to mention that I don’t have pans big enough for a full slice of one of those, or enough pans or burners - it would take me all night to fry up one mushroom. It is kind of neat to think that you could feed an army, an entire extended family (or a full restaurant) with one mushroom though, and I must admit, the wow factor is there when you see a biggie up close. But once it’s all chopped up, no one knows or cares how big it was in the first place. Too small is no good either though because the skin to flesh ratio is higher. And do I like the versatility the bigger slices provide (as long as they fit in my pan) .. So aim for big, but I’ll gladly take the smaller ones.

The giant puffball is delicious just sautéed up in pieces, but with the big ones, you can get slices the size of a large sauteuse or hotel pan which opens up other options for dishes.. In previous years, we have used a slice as a pizza crust or layered it in a gratin. Last year I had less, so I fried up strips tempura style. I have also cubed it and added it to tartare, to ratatouille, to stir-fries. It has a delicious, prominent classic mushroom flavour, which is on the softer side when young, becoming stronger tasting with age, but always good, a definite must-try for mushroom lovers. In texture it is oddly spongy yet firm (when good), reminiscent of eggplant, and in cooking too, the way it can really soak up the oil if you’re not careful. You need a really hot pan and a generous amount of oil, then when it starts browning, you can lower the heat, flip the slices over, add a pat of butter, salt and pepper, that’s it that’s all. It won’t ever be crisp (unless you leave it to dry out a bit in the oven), but then you risk bitter notes, so best to leave it as is flavour wise.

If you do find one, you must try it out. If you find two, or come across a biggie, as in more than you can eat, bring it in please! I will be needing a bunch for my wild mushroom menu..

And you don’t have to be an expert forager; these you can see a mile away – like a golf ball or soccer ball (depending on how lucky you are) on the grass. One year when François was away, I found the first of the season, by tripping on one (I kid you not) on my way to the back shed. They come back every year right in the same spot on that path. In drier years, I have seen François water them as babies, watching them, caring for them right up until the perfect moment they are to be picked!

The proper notice (in French) :

Amateur de champignons ou mycologue averti,

Les Jardins Sauvages et François Brouillard, le véritable gourou des sous-bois, vous invitent à participer au concours de vesse-de-loup géante (Langermannia gigantea) de Lanaudière.

Vous avez trouvé une vesse-de-loup géante ? Appelez François au 450 588-5125 et venez faire homologuer votre prise aux Jardins Sauvages, 17, chemin Martin, à St-Roch de L’Achigan.

Le gagnant se méritera un repas pour quatre personnes À la Table des Jardins Sauvages lors d’un de nos dîners thématiques champignons cet automne, une valeur de 400$ mais faites vite, les champignons doivent être présentés avant le 30 septembre.
Consultez le www.jardinssauvages.com pour plus d’informations.

A breath of fresh air, a bright future, a diamond in the rough

I’m happy to report that there is hope yet – on the work front and in the youth of today (la relève). Just when I’d almost given up on finding good help, a young kid blew in to knock my socks off.

What a breath of fresh air. Throughout my weekend of juice in the kitchen, I remained in a relatively upbeat mood and finished elated, thanks to things going off without a hitch despite being short-staffed, but mainly from having my faith restored even for a night. The source of my elation – a teenager who came in to do the dishes. I’ll call him my diamond in the rough.

I saw from his first night how hard working, positive and curious he was. The next night I had him helping in the kitchen, doing odd jobs like peeling cattails and potatoes, decorating plates. He worked diligently, never asking for anything, was poking his nose into my pots, keenly observing and tasting; I could not believe how ‘allumé’ this kid was. And he hails from a backwoods small town, knows nothing about food or cooking or gastronomy or wild plants. I gave him his first taste of Reggiano, alongside a number of artisanal Quebec cheeses, he also tasted duck, scallops, veal cheek, not to mention a multitude of wild greens and roots for the first time. He was thrilled with each bite. He had no idea what a scallop was but asked if he could taste it raw! I'm used to having to cajole or threaten students into tasting anything remotely exotic, let alone raw.. In service, he danced the kitchen dance with ease, never getting in the way, aware, following cues and jumping in, executing any task I’d given him exactly. It was so impressive for a kid who had never been in a professional kitchen or taken a class. I could not have asked for more even from a ‘trained’ cook out of school. It was obvious this kid ‘had it’. This never happens, I’m never impressed, this kid was something else. I began coddling him like crazy - I’ve never been so nice to any newbie. In the early phase, I’m usually annoyed most of the time and more concerned with discipline, starting off on the right foot, laying down the law, seeing if they’re cut out for it before investing too much.

What had me so rapt, what was I so worked up about, why was I being so nice all of a sudden? It was his keen eye, ear and nose, the ability to think on his feet, to catch on quick. An unbridled curiosity, a hungry nature, an open mind, and smart questions (not useless ones, so commonly asked without thinking first - that just break my concentration and sap my energy..) His politeness, hard work and stamina, with no special needs on the side. He was eager to try anything and everything. The pressure didn't seem to bother him, he was sharp and optimistic the whole way through, he naturally knew when to buckle down, when to talk, when not to talk. He evidently had a tough composition, but a sweet disposition. Here was a (smart) kid who was simply happy to be working and learning. Come to think of it, this package shouldn’t be such a rare thing, but trust me, it is, especially so young.

diamonds

Most restaurants I know are looking for cooks, farmers are equally short of labourers, businesses across the board are in relentless search of enthusiastic, reliable workers at every level. Although there is technically a shortage of skilled workers, among the candidates available, it’s not necessarily that talent is lacking, the problem is more to do with attitude, work ethic, passion, dedication.. We’ve all gotten used to expecting less, having to retrain and retrain, accepting that one out of every ten employees will amount to anything, in this industry in particular. They all want big pay and glory off the get go, too many days off, with no concept of paying their dues.. It’s a common dialogue among chefs, restaurateurs and business owners in general. The times, they are a changing and fast, albeit for the good in many aspects, but we can’t up-end our whole operating order overnight, at least not until people are willing to pay way more for their food. So it’s all about doing your best with what you’ve got, damage control, avoiding the bad apples, making the most of the good eggs. Thankfully, a good egg makes up for a few bad apples.

Back to this good egg, my diamond in the rough. I showed him how to hold a knife for the first time; he was so determined to be able to cut like Jonathan (my beloved apprentice and pseudo kid, now a seasoned cook) - he was intently studying his every move and then going at it with such determination. After we’d cleaned up, he also helped with the dishes, never looking at his watch, never asking for a break.. While his peers are out being delinquents, uninterested in working for minimum wage, he’s happily busting his ass.

He was so proud at the end of the night when we gave him 2 oz of wine to cheers with us (he’s underage after all) and all the staff was complimenting him. He told me how fun he found the kitchen, doing so many different kinds of cool things, being a part of a team, seeing happy customers.. I understand how it would beat cutting grass or strictly doing dishes, but he seemed genuinely pleased, even bitten. And I’m quite sure he didn’t understand how brilliantly he had done. I was beaming for his mother.

I know better than to get my hopes up so quick, but what the hell, a girl needs to find her diamonds wherever she can, and regardless of what happens next, this one made a difference in realigning my disillusioned outlook with respect to kids today.. And I was reminded once again that I really can/still/do love teaching..

P.S. After I wrote this, I couldn’t help but think of Jonathan in his early days as my apprentice at l’Eau.. I wrote about him too a while back (you’ll see some common threads I’m sure). http://soupnancy.squarespace.com/more-food-writing/my-mentor-and-my-apprentice.html

C’est parti! The season is off to a booming start..

 

crinkleroot, daisy, ramp leaves, live-forever, cat's tongue

violet, dog's tooth, spring beauty

 

 

 

 

 

 

first morels

The fiddleheads have been coming in by the potato sac, officially kicking off the season of wild edibles. We have enough wild greens to make a kick-ass spring salad mix: live-forever, violet leaves and flowers, daisy, cat’s tongue, spring beauty, linden, ramp leaves.. I have stinging nettle to make soup, day lily sprouts, some wild ginger and crinkleroot to play with too.. We’ve spotted the first morels (still in the ground, properly guarded). C’est parti! The cooler is overflowing; it’s time to get infusing, pickling, drying, blanching and putting up, embarking on the oh so familiar, constant rush of the growing season, which is all about trying to keep up with processing the pickings amidst serving customers. This is also when menu planning becomes so fun, even difficult because there is so much to work with.. I launched spring with an elaborate menu for the first two weeks of May, but because it was set before reality hit, my next menus sing spring to another degree because I’m living it now (and I don’t have a camera on my ass day in, day out). I was so inspired by my time in the woods for the first picks, I am buoyed by all the green and the signs of the local abundance to come, spring is in definitely in my step.. The first roadside stands selling local asparagus have appeared too, an essential part of spring, and I’m pumped because I’m done teaching, ready to devote my time to wild times at Les Jardins Sauvages.

 

crab salad farcie

tartare, wild ginger, day lily, dog's tooth

stinging nettle chowder, my ham, boletus froth

spring mesclun, fried Blackburn cheese, wild grape balsamic

lamb, almond rosemary crumble, mixed veg

 

 

 

    

 

 

Big news! François des Bois goes to the market!

As of Victoria day week-end (or la Fête des Patriotes, ie. this week-end), François will be at Jean Talon market from Thursday to Sunday selling his wild edibles. His stand will be next to the Cochon tout rond in the specialty aisle. He will have fiddleheads, wild spring mesclun mix (the greens mentioned below), edible wild flowers, eventually more greens and wild mushrooms (following the season) as well as his 'new and improved' line of products (mustards, oils, salts, vinaigrettes etc) and flavoured butters. I might even make some soup and sous-vide dishes at some point..

It’s all very exciting. Of course, it means more volume, work and organization, and that I need to be at the table champêtre all the time, but François loves the market; it is where he belongs (when he’s not in the woods), and most importantly, more people will have easy access to wild edibles. Chefs can stop by and stock up.  Generations of Quebeckers can rediscover the traditions and flavours of their ancestors in eating wild greens, and give their immune system a boost in the process.

He won’t be selling anything that isn’t abundant, or that he doesn’t know where and how it was picked. Things like wild ginger and crinkleroot will not be available because although we use them, the government has them on their endangered list. François alleges that this is false (clear in our forest); when picked properly (ie.not pulling out the roots), they actually prosper, but still he doesn’t want to cause controversy or create a demand that would encourage twits to go harvesting carelessly. In some cases, eating a species keeps it alive, in other circumstances, popularity can be detrimental (think ramps in Quebec ).

   

 

 

                                                     

                       

nordic shrimp, asparagus, radish, cat's tongue and dog's tooth

quail salad, fiddleheads with sesame

Piglet loin, fiddleheads with ham, Rassambleu potato cake, cider sauce

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

See my ‘What’s cooking’ posts for spring recipes: featuring crab, shrimp, asparagus, fiddleheads, asparagus..

http://soupnancy.squarespace.com/whats-cooking-recipes/

And this week's menu http://soupnancy.squarespace.com/menus/

 

 

 

 

A visiting tour to producers, while waiting for the snow to melt:

Inspiration everywhere.. 

Rice lettuce, the first sprouts, curry leaves!

I had a very stimulating cooking week. Although we did get our first pickings of wild things to cook with, the excitement mostly came from others’ offerings this time. Travelling is a sure source of inspiration always, even if you only drive 30min out of your bubble. Spending time with passionate, hardworking artisans and farmers is the most rewarding of all, and luckily in Quebec you don’t have to go too far for that. I spent a day visiting a few of these special people, and came back on fire.

My first stop was at les Jardiniers du Chef with Pierre André Daignault. He’s been supplying top restaurants with micro-greens and specialty veg for years, and the place is like a well oiled machine, laid back and mature, yet with an innovative energy still omnipresent. As I sprinted around the greenhouses, sniffed and tasted, I was reacquainted with many old favourites, only more perfect and beautiful, and came across many new items of interest. The winner of the day was his rice lettuce (laitue de riz), like a delicate looking head of romaine that really tastes like sweet fragrant rice. Amazing raw, I could sooo imagine it cooked, silky and toothsome, more deeply flavourful. There was green garlic with an outside bulb you remove leaving what looks like a baby scallion that tastes like a ramp. There was pied de poule (chickenfeet), a thin wiry, but tender green that reminded me of young sea asparagus in texture but with a mild neutral grassy taste. I tasted a nutty Japanese spinach, peppery cress, a number of novel edible flowers, numerous micro-greens, and marvelled at all his still beautiful roots (skirret, chervil root, baby carrots, Chiogga beets, Jerusalem artichokes..). When I got back to the restaurant, and then at home, I prepared as much of my bag of treats in every way I could to sample it all at its freshest (yes, cooking at home after a 15hr day..). Thankfully, I had enough customers the next day to try a few more things out. It was my first taste of summer-like abundance in a while, when you have too many beautiful things to work with, it’s a struggle to fit it all on the menu. I made a little salad with the chicken-feet, some slivered daylily sprout, celery leaf sprouts and crinkleroot oil to accompany my smoked fish rillettes and gravelax on a wild herbed breadstick. I stuffed pintade with boletus and wrapped it in rice lettuce to cook it sous-vide, I also stuffed the pintade with the rice lettuce and seared it after the slow poach, which turned out to be even better. The cress and green garlic adorned a braised lamb and gnocchi dish with curry leaf. I was so pleased I left a gushy message on his answering machine. 

guinea hen stuffed with boletus and rice lettuce, jerusalem artichoke purée

Daignault's microgreens

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

smoked fish rillettes, gravelax, chickenfeet and day lily with crinkleroot

prepping pintade

Daignault's ail vert

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The next stop was Gaspor, St-Canut farms for milk-fed piglet. I hadn’t visited since they automated their operation. Alexandre Aubin, the most charming pig farmer to be sure (although as a result he does more PR now while co-owner Carl Rousseau tends to the pigs) explained the new feeding system and showed me the cute little piglet families in different stages. They raise them to 28kg or 9-10 weeks in comfortable conditions, only milk fed, and air-dry for 48hrs after slaughter. Although still a relatively small production, they are steadily expanding, and they supply fine tables across the country, in New York and beyond. Their piglet is succulent, every part of it, and the fat is a soft, creamy white. I used to get their whole pigs when I was at l’Eau, where it was a work of love finding a way to use it all up; now they sell major cuts, so it’s more accessible. Even if I found the little piglets cute, actually hilarious (they are so playful and squeaky), I can’t wait to get my hams going.  www.gaspor.com

 

Fromagerie Yannick: Piave on the left

Fromagerie du Marché St-JeromeOn the way back, we stopped at Yannick’s Fromagerie du Marché in St-Jerome, the ultimate cheese shop where big wheels of perfect cheese grace the countertops and knowledgeable, passionate people are eager to introduce you to all of it. I really came for a chunk of my new favourite Piave (raw cow’s milk from Venetie, Italy, kind of Parm like, but ultra nutty), but also left with a Mont Tuilly Suisse tomme (raw cow’s milk) and a raw sheep’s milk Portugese pate molle that is curdled with natural cardoon enzyme (Azeitao), as well as some Lenoir Lacroix (terrific locally roasted and blended fair-trade organic) coffee. Yannick was there, so we had to chat it up, the guy is everything you want to know about cheese in a handsome, suave, soft spoken package. He looks more like an architect or a banker than a cheese specialist and always wears a crisp blue shirt, but he knows his stuff. He pointed me to the most promising of the new Quebec cheeses on the market, and reminded me of the best of the old that have succeeded in mastering consistency. On the subject of the Alexis de Portneuf (owned by Saputo) semi-scandal, Yannick explained that the additive in question was in fact just a a milk component, cheese by-product that is normally thrown out, not something altogether unnatural, and that with their investment in this technology, they were actually doing a good job at making commercially produced cheese. I still think that they should not be marketing themselves as artisanal, and that information is all the consumer needs; I would rather choose a small farmer’s cheese anyway, but at least it’s good to know I’m not committing some food ethics crime by eating a slice of the award winning Sauvagine. However, with all the other incredible veritable farmers cheeses in his shop, it’s not even an issue. His heart is in the Alps , in Spain and Portugal , but the Quebec selection is stellar, all the cheeses are selectively sourced, optimally cared for and served at their peak. His shops (he has two in Montreal too, one on Bernard and one on the West Island ) are heaven for a cheese lover, definitely worth a trip. He really elevates cheese to noble, edible art, thereby doing justice to the artisans behind it all.

first spring pickings

François' first sprouts

micro dandelion

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On the home front, things are just as exciting, definitely heating up. The snow is melting quickly, and this week, François brought me my first real basket of stuff. He might have had to work hard and dig deep for it, but it was impressive - daylily sprouts, a little dogstooth and daisy, crinkleroot, a few tabouret des champs tops, some micro dandelion (the only kind I can imagine eating) and a couple of dozen violets, just enough to jazz up a few of my dishes and make my plates look pretty. It’s hard to believe that in a few weeks, these treats will be almost taken for granted as things really start sprouting in earnest and the fiddleheads take over officially launching the party of everything green, fresh and local. All in time.. If spring had come sooner, maybe I wouldn’t have made it to Daignault’s, and I wouldn’t have found love in rice lettuce.

snow receding to reveal day lily sprouts

day lily sprouts

dogstooth or adder's leaf

 

 

 

 

 

 

My last hit of the weekend was the lamb dish, this one thanks to my Man Siva, a dishwasher and prep cook extraordinaire I used to work with at the Tavern years ago.  Among all his other lovable traits, he is also my curry leaf connection.  Looking for a little excitement on my menu (this was before my producer trip), and with Stephanie St-Jean's lamb coming in (Ferme d'Elevage La Petite Campagne), I couldn't think of a better time to call on him.  Wow, I had almost forgotten how much I LOVE the stuff.  Barb thinks it smells like eggs, and although I do pick up some sulfur like notes, I find it very nutty smelling, more like sesame..  I braised the shoulders with the curry leaf, and once cooked, everyone said it smelled like maple syrup.  Anyhow, it was delicious, atop some homemade gnocchi with Mr.Potato's (M.Berard) potatoes that have a natural mushroom aroma with a touch of nutmeg -oh ya.  Sometimes you don't have to travel any further than down memory lane for some inspiration.  Inspiration is everywhere.  A sure sign that spring is here indeed.  Hallelujah!  Now if only the Habs would win.

Good bye winter food

This weekend, I’m in spring cleaning mode. After my maple menu which was heavy on roots, duck, ham, beans and maple of course, I’m ready to move to lighter fare, even if spring isn’t fully here yet (it’s snowing outside). Nonetheless, there is reason for optimism. The river ice broke last weekend to a loud thundering boom, causing customers to run out and witness icebergs crashing down, alongside the resto amidst the river swell. It looks like the worst is over and we might avoid major flooding after all. François has already picked a few flowers and sprouts (just to show off) despite the huge snow banks on the property. He’s convinced that spring will happen quickly, and that it will be a good one because the ground never froze completely with all the insulating snow, and the slow seep meant the earth stayed gorged with water. He is especially excited about what that promises mushroom wise. To prove his point, he showed me a handful of plants that stayed green all winter, as well as day lily bulbs that are already 6 inches long and white as endive beneath the snow.

The snow is slowly but steadily melting, but in the meantime, I will have one last go at the winter stuff. I’ve cleaned out my freezers and walk-in, removing the last of our stored roots, as well as any winter left-overs. I have 6 grey bins of sous-vide bags and various containers of soup, sauce and ice cream to unload. It’s all good stuff, but I need to move on. Solution: time to throw a party. On an off night when there is no hockey game, of course. It will be a ‘Spring Cleaning Buffet’ for staff and close friends of les Jardins Sauvages. Free food, BYOB, a campfire – a winning recipe for a good time, and a therapeutic, formal good bye to winter food for me. Friends will be happy and my fridge will be ready for the arrival of spring things. I will joyfully cook and eat cassoulet, tourtiere and the like for the last time this year, providing a symbolic shift to spring and summer cooking for me.. Ça va faire du bien.

 

One last winter feast, my spring cleaning menu

Mixed charcuterie: Duck rillettes, Foie gras torchon, smoked duck, veal tongue

Mixed pickles, preserves and mustards

Sausage, olives and spiced nuts

Cured fish platter: cured brochet, char gravelax, smoked cod

Smoked salmon mousse on toast

Tomato crinkleroot bruschetta

Mixed greens with house vinaigrette

Asian style vermicelli salad with asparagus and egg

Gnudi with sea spinach, parmesan and rosé sauce

Game tourtiere

Cassoulet with my homemade sausage and ham

Venison ragout

Crepinettes of duck confit, gizzard and liver stuffing

Roasted root vegetables with gremolata sauvage

Root vegetable and wild greens gratin

Chocolate elderberry mousse cake

Pecan maple tarts

Buche

Various wild flavoured ice creams and sorbets

I had to throw a few tomatoes and greens in just to balance this meat-heavy stick- to- your- ribs menu ; I hardly want anyone to get killed in this rite of passage from winter to spring. Loosen the belt buckle, crack open the wine, and let’s go. One last winter binge and I’ll be officially ready for spring.

 

While in spring cleaning mode, I'll unload the last of my winter pictures too..

a wild deer spots me

Moments before the ice broke

François making tire for the kids

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

creamy pea and nettle soup

pea and nettle soup with smoked ham and maple sap foam

char, cured and smoked with root veg remoulade and pickled buds

 

 

 

 

 

 

Quail, wild ginger maple sauce, sesame soba noodles and quail egg (poached in maple sap)

Balsamic-Maple glazed duck, mini cassoulet

just about the last of the root veg

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A pretty winter soup: beet, cabbage and foie gras ravioli

cooking ham

rabbit two ways, root veg

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

venison, wheatberry mushroom risotto

 

melting the snow

Looking ahead to spring:

My menu this week (April 19th) shows a lighter touch, a whiff of spring in the air.  I am planning a full fledged spring festival menu for the two first weeks of May.  You can also view that here; I will be announcing it this week.

http://soupnancy.squarespace.com/display/ShowFiles?moduleId=1746648&directoryId=244758&SSScrollPosition=0

Jon gave me this apron for my birthday in January and I have been wearing it every game night in the kitchen eversince.  I am a Habs fan, but so early in the season and way before the current madness, I was more taken with all the pockets and comfort of the thing.  Then I saw that customers loved it and that my team seemed to be on a winning streak, so of course the food only tasted better.  So now, it's become as important in the kitchen as my Mac or microplane.  For the season anyway.  Go Habs go!

 

 

 

Habs fever all over the place!!

On the street

At the bank

 

 

 

 

 

Tricolore cake at the bank

At the Tavern

For Easter: Eggs and God

Easter usually means that spring is in the air, but this year, we’re not quite there yet. It somehow seems premature to jump on the spring bandwagon and cook what the food media dictates to be Easter fare. We’re a long way from local peas, asparagus and ramps; hell the maple season is barely upon us (all that snow needs to melt away from the trees before the sap can run). I’m still plugging away with my root veg and put up wild greens, but I do have a ham curing, some fresh rabbit and a big block of Martin Guilbault’s Terre Promise cheese to play with, can’t complain.

Easter is a celebration for most people, but with different religious traditions (or lack there of), it means something different to everyone otherwise. To me, it has always been above all, a time to be thankful for and to celebrate the egg in all its fabulousness! See my previous post, ‘My Easter Ode to the Egg’ http://soupnancy.squarespace.com/blog-journalessays/2007/4/6/my-easter-egg.html

my duck eggs

 

 

 

 

 

In honour of the egg in all its forms, I invite you to view an egg slide show to get to know some more good eggs.. http://www.gourmet.com/food/2008/03/eggslideshow

And if you’re cooking something for Easter, maybe consider an egg dish..

Some of my favourites in what’s cooking.. http://soupnancy.squarespace.com/whats-cooking-recipes/

Now to my egg epiphany! More precisely, I happened upon a moment of clarity thanks to the egg, as I was cooking up a MEP storm on Good Friday listening to CBC. Gospel music was playing while I cracked my eggs for a bread pudding (with wintergreen, chocolate and wild berries).. I paused to bow to the egg, true to my Easter tradition of egg appreciation, but then I couldn’t help but think that no matter how wonderful the egg is, Easter could/should mean much more to me. After all, I am a minister’s daughter who never goes to church and has a hard time remembering what all the hoopla is supposed to be about besides lamb, ham, turkey and chocolate. So, I got to contemplating God, religion and the universe; the eggs lead me there.

You see, MY GOD IS AN EGG, a magnificent artisanal cheese, a biodynamic wine, a perfect ham. My god is real food pulled from the earth, the alchemy of cooking, a sublime taste, the uplifting scent of wild flowers, the soothing, energizing warmth of a hearth.. Anything that can yank me out of my body, profoundly touch me with awe, turn me to putty and I don’t quite know why. My god is in the marvel of childbirth, the dawn of a new season, a bird in flight, the absolute peace found in nature. My god is the harmony of an orchestra, the bliss of a good meal with friends, the comfort of a meaningful exchange or embrace. It’s the exaltation of being struck by beauty, moved by art, connecting with words, or being high on life. My god is the whole truth, the missing link; my god is love, grace, serenity and hope. My god is care, thoughtfulness and trust, the glory of giving all of oneself, feeling gratitude, being humbled, feeling lucky, honouring integrity. It is the power to create, to receive, to dance. My god is also the sound of an anthem in a crowd, what I feel in a church and at the hockey arena; and definitely, my god is all of Leonard Cohen’s hallelujahs.

My god is a real force, but not a being in our image, not a ‘he’ or a ‘she’ or a ‘Jesus’ or a ‘Mohammed’, not even a higher power. My god is all that is beyond our grasp, what eludes science and all our constructs. It is the struggle between good and bad in all of us, the intangible, and the inexplicable. It is soul, intuition, faith, hope, healing, instinct, and the placebo effect. It is what we refer to as nuance or ‘je ne sais quoi’, it is what makes a carrot healthier than the sum of its nutrient parts. It is what makes people use words like wow!, fate, soul-mate, spirituality, karma, guardian angel or devil.

My god is all that we inherently know to be important and true but don’t and maybe can’t know; it’s the thread that binds us.

I am surprisingly fine with this kind of all encompassing and impossible-to-pinpoint god, mainly because life has taught me the limits of our human design. The study of cooking, biochemistry, anthropology, math, physics, chemistry, philosophy, art, etc., not to mention the school of real life and hard knocks all offer up some incomplete truth.. They are all legitimate paths that eventually require us to take a leap of faith, to accept something or just believe because it feels right. We all instinctively know there’s something more. We need a god, so we find one however we can, bring it into our heart (or let it free), put one foot in front of the other, hopefully do some good and sleep better at night.

I’m not sure about that last one, but still.. Some kind of belief system can be a settling and powerful thing. Besides, I hear it’s very positive for longevity and for the community. I also hear that meditating is the end all, but I can’t do it for the life of me. Let’s just say that I am not spiritually predisposed. I never cared what happened in other solar systems or where we go when we die; to me there is so much right here-right now to figure out - priorities right? Nor am I puzzled by the fact that life isn’t fair. It doesn’t bother me that we might have originated from a random explosion of elements and that everything about our life is random. I am all for positive thinking, but I always felt that praying was kind of bogus and weak.

Nonetheless, I do have my questions. Being a student of the sciences before anything else, I once thought math could explain everything, and I was way too logical to ever be open to the idea of gods, angels, out of body experiences, psychics, or even psychology for that matter.. The ultimate power of nature, the success of biodynamics are parallel examples that may have recently helped awaken me. Listening to a scientist (labelled quack) named Rubert Sheldrake on Ideas positing a force field that connects all living things was a tipping point (something else!) for me. Maybe a lot can yet be explained by science, but my gut tells me that there will be no end; we will never really ‘get it’. I know enough to know I know nothing. What I think and feel now is as good as anything.

I’m nowhere near reading horoscopes, but now that life as a cook has brought me in closer touch with my senses and to natural phenomena, I now tend to take my brain less seriously, and am more sensitive to all kinds of inputs. As a result, I feel an octave more alive, like I’m able to see things more clearly and believe more freely. I am ripe for a god of sorts. I no longer need to understand everything, but I do still need to compartmentalize my experience, to rationalize faith, and really, I just need to address the elephant in the room for once and for all. Let me call it God.

Heavy stuff you might say. I, on the other hand, feel light as a feather. I’ve rarely had such a good day cooking.. The bottom line is that appreciating an egg is taking one step closer to God. Happy Easter!

Meet my new buddy Mac.

Mac

We've been together for 3 weeks now and I can't tell you how much I love him.  He's changed my life.  He's an 8" chef knife but with dimples.  He can do just about anything but heavy work, he's not great at boning, but since he came into the picture, I've barely touched another knife.  Slicing and dicing veg, carving meat, sushi - he kicks ass with super smooth style.  He's Japanese in origin, western in style, swift and light but very comfortable, with a hard, thin razor sharp blade.  I wasn't into Japanese until now.  No one touches him but me and I put him to bed in his box every night, which is something else for a brute like me.  Let's hope it lasts (the edge, us)..  And that he doesn't chop my finger off.

Hot and cold

Regular chefs vs. Pastry chefs

I’m a regular ‘hot kitchen’ or ‘savoury’ chef who has worked alongside several pastry chefs from different backgrounds: Italian, French, Quebecois, some with classic training, others who were more home-baker types, young and old, medaled and not. I’ve admired them all, but still, I can’t help but notice the inherent fundamental difference between a true hot kitchen chef and a true pastry chef. I’m not talking about cooks who show up to punch their cards but the ones that live and breathe their vocation. Amongst these cooks, you see two groups: two callings, two people, two beasts. Between them, there is a contrast in temperament, in talent, in likes and dislikes.

I have long been intrigued by the difference between these two types of people and their intricate dynamic, having lived it, studied it and marvelled at it for so long up close. This is what I can say for now about what makes the hot and the cold sit at opposite ends of the food production spectrum.

Pastry chefs need to measure. Cooks hate to.

Pastry chefs operate in MEP mode. Cooks more often than not are under the gun.

Pastry chefs don’t like to have to move at a fast pace, or improvise too much, they do anything to not be ‘in the juice’. Cooks need to fly, are always ‘in the juice’ and get off on it.

Pastry chefs find finicky, monotonous tasks satisfying and soothing. Cooks find them a boring bother.

Pastry chefs like early mornings. Cooks don’t.

Pastry chefs hate yelling. Cooks are used to it. (But you never really need to raise your voice in a pastry kitchen because the bulk of the work is done before hand, where as in the hot kitchen, it is all about à la minute.)

Pastry cooks are soft and fuzzy. Cooks are hard and gritty.

Pastry chefs are polite. Cooks are brutes.

Pastry chefs strive to be Zen. Cooks should, but they’re off the hook and they like it that way.

Pastry chefs show restraint. Cooks tend to excess.

Pastry cooks are always organized and meticulous. Cooks need to be, but it’s more of a stretch, hence they need more discipline.

Pastry chefs are more esthetical, they tend to think more about the look than the taste. So often, they are thinner. And their homes don’t look like cooks’ homes (designer decorated vs. student apartment).

Cooks taste. Pastry chefs don’t.

Cooks smell like veal stock, grease and garlic. Pastry chefs smell sweet.

Pastry chefs have more evenings off. Cooks are jealous of that.

Pastry chefs think they are superior beings. Cooks think they are superior beings.

Tied at the hip in a love-hate relationship, with a lot of mutual respect for each other deep down, they/we still live in separate worlds. We both know a little about the other, having learnt the basics about the adjacent school, and are vaguely interested in the other if only to taste each other’s offerings. We work side by side, share and joke around, occasionally party together, but often get on each other’s nerves. There’s a rivalry between cooks and bakers, just a notch lower than that between waiters and kitchen staff. In face of the other side, we stick together, but amongst ourselves, there are two camps, continually badgering the other, more for amusement’s sake than anything. We swap veal cheeks for donuts; we jump in to help each other out, but laugh at the other’s gaffes over staff meal.

Of course, a good pastry chef can be a good cook and vice versa, if the interest is there. But, in my experience, most often this isn’t the case, especially if a person is really good at one or the other. I find that the better the pastry chef, the least likely they are to be the chef type and vice versa. Understandably, the top guns aren’t usually interested in the other side and they don’t have the time if they’re busy climbing one ladder or the other. Those that are good at both are most valuable to a small kitchen, but we don’t hear about them often. In the upper echelons of the profession, in a high end kitchen or a big operation, Pastry and Hot are necessarily two very different fields.

However different, with modern trends blurring the lines between sweet and savoury, it seems that more than ever, the two should be working together, even outside the small restaurant scenario. The dessert, no longer just a finale, is morphing, multiplying and encroaching into savoury territory on tasting menus, salt and pepper and carrots and balsamic vinegar are showing up in desserts, while chocolate and gingerbread are now common in entrées. We’re more intertwined then ever, and it seems insensible to ignore the other. I suspect that the in-between type might flourish in the upcoming years.

Personally no longer part of a big brigade, I have no choice but to pay attention to and nurture my sweet side. As a savoury cook first, I sometimes find pastry to be a chore, especially if I’m swamped and feel like I could be doing ten other things while I painstakingly roll out butter dough. But at the same time, I think it is important to keep my fingers in the flour. It would go against every molecule in me to order them from the outside, and besides, it’s an endless source of challenge, not to mention humility. I think that a really good cook should be able to bake something, and I think that a person should struggle every once and a while. My pastry dabbling also means that I am not ultimately dependent on anyone, as dessert is an important part of the meal to most. On the other hand, I am more than happy to let a real pastry chef take over when it’s time, say for a wedding, a buffet centerpiece or when I need technical help in transforming a new idea into a plated dessert that doesn’t look like a kid made it . I now collaborate often with a queen (Isabelle Sauriol), who gives me the odd tip, and is big enough to serve my homemade desserts without scorn, making them look better then I ever could. Ironically, she is also one of the few real pastry chefs that can also cook, probably because she has an unbridled curiosity and passion for food. Patrice Demers, Montreal’s hottest young pastry chef (at Laloux, formerly of Les Chèvres) knows how to cook too. Funny enough, he fell into pastry first because the cooking class was full the year he tried to enroll. Maybe some things were meant to be after all.

Generally though, I do think we cooks and pastry people are two different personalities yet cut from the same cloth, like non-identical twins. We love each other but love to assert our individuality and we love to scrap. But we’re definitely two different animals. And like a good balance of girls and guys makes for a better kitchen dynamic, a good balance of hot and cold chef types can make a food team work magic. Here’s to them and to us, to salty and sweet, to hot and cold, to contrasts and extremes, to balance and harmony.. We need eachother and we can do so much together in the name of good taste and good fun.. Cheers.

 

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.

At times, summer feels too short for words..

chanterelles in the Gatineau

a kid in a candy shop

August abundance, a glimpse

Bison with boletus, cheiftan sunchoke purée, arroche and carrots

 

 

Elderberry labrador tea panna cotta, wild berries, clover sablé

Tomato bocconcini and wild greens, crinkleroot and balsamic

smoked duck, wild turkey rillettes, wild ginger and nasturtium

sea asparagus

wild ginger

 

 

 

Yay!

caquiller de mer

champignon clavaire

the first lobster mushrooms

François et ses chanterelles de Gaspesie

table riversidefleur d'ail

Out the door of la table

Another way of foraging 
Cormier's raspberries

Corn and the stand at noon almost bare

Me harvesting the second rhubarb out back

My favourite - Quebec groundcherries!

All kinds of tomatoes!
yellow beans and carrots -sounds like a good soup
Sautéing my chanterelles, sorry no chef jacket

 

 

 

 

 

 

corn at its peak

a ripe Cavaillon melon

stoking the smoker

my new smoker

Whoa - it works! In goes the duck.

my favourite -fresh nordic shrimp salad

salmon shrimp duo

colored carrot and smoked duck salad

pine mushroom

Chanterelles en flocons -not for everyone

Chanterelles clavaires de Gaspesie

raisins sauvages

wild cherries

Making my curry. Ok this has nothing to do with summer, but it was time - I was out.  If only a picture could capture the aroma of the toasted spices..

July 16, 2007-07-16

Foraging and fishing in the Mauricie

determined to get some trout

bolet insigne

petite salsapareille

baby bolet orangé
yellow boletus patch

Labrador tea

 

 

 

 

This was a week of foraging and fishing in Northern Québec , and most importantly, our first significant mushroom finds. We were on a half-work, half-play excursion to the Triton Fish and Game Club, a hunting and fishing lodge with a prestigious history deep in the woods north of La Tuque. www.seigneriedutriton.com François was there to show the staff what was edible in the surrounding forests, I was there to give cooking tips, to document it all, and mostly to have a good time. I came back with a zillion bug bites, a good tan, several lingering taste memories and a piece of mind. There’s nothing like the deep woods to calm a soupnancy down. The great thing about the Triton is the staff, who will fry up or transform your trout into tartare lakeside or in the dining room that night. The only problem was I didn’t catch any fish. Meanwhile there was a European kid who caught 17 in one morning, the little punk. Happily, a lady who had seen me on TV was generous enough to share her catch with me, so I got my tartare studded with capers, coarsely chopped onions, lemon and olive oil, so simple so f-ing good. Another gustatory highlight was the fabulous Serrano style ham the house makes that we ate night after night with onion jam and boletus oil and au naturel for breakfast.

Black raspberries, chanterelles and cèpes, corn

But the best part of our trip were the mushroom sightings. We came across whacks of boletus of all kinds, and then came back home to some beautiful young chanterelles in our backyard. A couple of cèpes (porcini) made an appearance too, so now, we’re primed. Thanks to the rain and a good amount of sun, this growing season is powering along, fruitful and in balance, everything is good. The farmers are rejoicing, and when the cultivated stuff is going well, you know the weeds are doing even better.

Our dehydrator is working hard, and every hot/dry nook and cranny is being used to dry something, oven space is precious. Many plants are flowering so we’ve got elderberry flower, sweet clover flower, common yarrow and milkweed flower drying, all for our tisane. The first black raspberries are out and so the wild blueberries and raspberries won’t be far behind. This is the one time of year when I find myself with too much great stuff - I want to put it all on the menu, but I only have five courses a night. It’s a struggle to keep my menu from turning into a convoluted mess of too many crazy sounding (and tasting) things. Even though I do believe that restraint is the quality of a truly good cook, at this time of year, minimalism does not come naturally to me. It hurts me to see perfect salsify, milkweed broccoli, live-forever and day lily buds sitting untouched in my cooler because I’m all enchanted with the newest of the new, the marine greens, the many flowers, the little peas, the corn, the chanterelles, the baby zucchini, the purselane.. I’ve got some beautiful scallops this week to accompany my sea spinach, and organic duck from a producer nearby to try, perfect for the corn and chanterelles. I think I will drop the strawberry rhubarb thing and move into the raspberry- blueberry- elderberry realm for my dessert. And I’ve got a variety of baby veg coming in from a local farmer to go alongside all the wild stuff - c’est l’abondance!

elderberry flower

fragrant milkweed flower

 

 

 

 

 

 

Scallop, sea spinach, tomato crinkleroot emulsion

 
eel brandade, smoked salmon, sea asparagus and pickled buds
mousse deux chocolats et thé des bois, berries

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

the holy trio
crinkleroot crazy
ramps galore
ramps (still in the ground)After a week of foraging (and many bloody mosquito bites), I'm happy to be back in the kitchen, although it was indeed a nice break.  The scents of the forest linger in my brain and nasal passages, that heady mix of ramps, crinkleroot, damp earth and bug lotion.  We collected our legal quota of 50 ramps apiece, and then moved on to crinkleroot, big leaf stinging nettle (the best kind), ailliere (garlic mustard leaf), as well as a variety of wild flowers.  See photos below.  For the pictures, I uncovered the top layer of dirt to show how the ramps (wild garlic) and crinkleroot (wild horseradish) grow.  The crinkleroot, ramps and nettle grow together, often in a happy menage a trois. 

Since I operate like a machine with tunnel vision when I pick, going after one plant at a time, I kept getting nailed by the burn of the nettle when on a crinkleroot mission.  In a Bart Simpson like routine, I eventually learnt to stop falling into the trap of the prickly leaves hiding next to my prey.  The forest can be a dangerous place for a city girl like me, but thankfully, I won out and it was only enchanting after that. 

Notice the abundance; carpets of these valuable plants stretch for miles and miles in these forests.  Bent over, digging underground with our fingers (to delicately break off the stems, leaving some root intact), you can barely make a dent in the supply before you are over-tired and dirty, sore, and eaten alive.  After hours of picking, we don't even leave a trace. It seems shameful to not make use of more of this, to leave so much behind.  I can't help but think that if everyone picked respectfully, there would be plenty to go around forever.   Unfortunately, this is unrealistic, so our forests are better off underexploited; we need the limits and laws, and for misguided people to stay away.  We also need our governments to preserve more land like this from development. 

A couple of days of hard physical work close to nature is grounding and only makes me more appreciative of everything: nature, my life, and especially the preciousness of my fresh ingredients.  I am more inspired than ever.  So, now it's time to get cooking and process all this stuff.  I'll be making crinkleroot oil, some ramp and crinkleroot butter and pesto, and more stinging nettle soup, the mainstay of our spring menu.  I've set a little aside of each for some play time when I find the time.  I need to riff some more, to try some new things with this holy trio.  To feel satisfied, I always need to really treat an ingredient right while it's around, to take it all kinds of places to get to know it better or just to show my love.  And I need to feel like I've exhausted the possibilities with a seasonal ingredient before moving on to the next.
ramps uncovered (still in the ground)

 

 

  Chop-chop!  Because time flies, especially when the season is in full swing.  The pace has picked up, the bookings are coming in..  Soon enough,  I will be chained to the stove, with no more time for escapades in the woods ..   To see our menu for the next couple of weekends, go to http://soupnancy.squarespace.com/menus/jardins-sauvages/ or visit François' website www.jardinssauvages.com.

 

picks of the day to be used for dinner

Quenouille crepe with salmon and crinkleroot fresh cheese, pickled fiddleheads

Spring salad with duck confit
Venison, venison sausage, boletus polenta, peas

terrasse at La Table des Jardins Sauvages

 

 

 

strawberry-rhubarb-vanillagrass smoothie and cobbler

 

 

 

 

 

 

Early June pickings II
Early june pickings I

 

Back from Ottawa

February 11, 2007

I feel like I’ve been to the moon and back. It was just Ottawa, and a day of tests, the last stages in the application for the job of Chef at Rideau Hall, but it was quite the rigamaroll (what is that word anyway?), a sort of a surreal experience. The whole process challenged me to the core, fully consuming me beforehand (insomnia) and then after the fact, endless rehashing and self-bashing. Thankfully, it is now over. The point of the exercise was to put myself to the test to see how I measure up more than anything. This kind of job was nothing I had ever sought or saw myself suited for. Over the course of the year (yes, a year!), I came to doubt it even more, tiring of all the drawn out procedures, formalities and paperwork, the bureaucracy. I blew it off a few times, but kept getting more chances, so what the hell, I decided I wanted to see it through to the end. Besides, if there ever was a proud Canadian, bilingual, idealistic cook, it was me, and I love tests.

I definitely got what I went for, that is an ultimate challenge. Foremost, I was reminded of how humbling the cooking profession is. No matter how many compliments you get, how many menus you create, how many successful dinners you pull off; no matter how many times you make a demi or cook a duck, there are still always ten zillion things that can go wrong, and you will continue to fuck up occasionally, when you least expect it. A forgotten order, a burnt tray of croutons or an over-reduced sauce are always but a minute away. And even when nothing catastrophic occurs, you find fault in some detail; there's always something to question or fix, and never enough time to get it just right.

From 9am to 9pm that day, I went from drill to drill in a sweat, forced to dig deep down behind the head-cold induced fog that covered my brain, to find the smarts, confidence and stamina to be as brilliant as I could be. In that, I failed. I didn’t make a fool of myself, I got everything done more or less; however, I didn’t let much brilliance shine through. At several points, I couldn’t help but think a panellist or judge was wondering how I got as far as I did, given some of my stupid gaffes.

The interview went Ok. The written part was daunting and impossible to complete in the allotted time, consisting of events to plan from A to Z, including a menu with wine pairing, service specs, producers, budgeting, staff, overtime, everything… for a state visit by the King of Morocco three weeks away, and then for a conference on child hunger for 250 people in three days. Huge. Caught up in a cloud of numbers, I somehow forgot to find a halal butcher for my favorite lamb source, doh..

The practical part, a black box, seemed the easiest of the tasks, with a trolley full of good stuff and plenty of time, but that’s where I feel I came up short. I wasn’t focused enough; I was too stimulated by all the great things in the basket and tried to do too much, and nothing spectacular. I definitely was not judge-conscious enough. I could have pulled out some fancy flourishes; I should have at least worked by the book. Instead, I pulled a bunch of 'un-kosher' manoeuvres, swore here and there, cooked bistro food and served it cold (there was a huge vent over me). I overcooked a pancetta garnish on my entrée that had way too many things going on anyway, and I forgot to put two of my veg garnishes on my main plate. I don’t know what I was thinking, I wasn’t. What I put out wouldn’t have made it out of any kitchen I’ve run. It was all in the details, but what was I doing there then? The chef for the GG would have to be the master of details, steady under pressure, regardless of lack of sleep or flu symptoms. Anyway, I left in a drained daze, so mad at myself for under performing, but somehow still proud, because the whole thing made you feel like you were a part of something special.

I have immense admiration for Michaelle Jean and respect for the Canadian institution symbols and all, but somehow, I can’t picture myself uttering the words ‘their excellencies’ every other minute. Sure, it would be a privilege and honour to carry out her program to forge a stronger Canadian culinary identity, promoting excellence, education and community. It would be fun to have those resources, that garden, and have access to the best Canadian ingredients, uncovering small treasures and promoting them, to be supported by a good team, to be a part of such an operation. I’m sure it would be the most rewarding of challenges, even if I wouldn’t have much of a life outside my job. I certainly became seduced by this job I had never really wanted before. I’m sure that with enough blood, sweat and tears, I could do the job well, but I also know that it might be less of a stretch for someone more experienced and more polished, like the other candidates for instance. The other three were evidently more serious and technical, and surely more accustomed to a big, formal, unionized type enterprise. Two were French from France tall hat types, the third was a guy from Ottawa, and already the sous-chef at Rideau Hall. Unless something really extraordinary went down that day, I can’t help but think he will be a shoo-in, and so he should be.

After all that, I have to say that teaching seemed less intimidating, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to see the table champêtre and be back in the comfort zone of my small country kitchen. I did come back exhilarated, but also harder on myself than ever, finding nothing good enough, with a persistent drive to push myself to be better. I am more aware of my weaknesses (and strengths) than ever, which is a good thing, I guess.  Even if the kitchen is an ongoing test, it’s only healthy for the ego and for the soul to get out of your bubble and really put yourself to the test every now and again. You inevitably find inspiration, and it’s bound to be a safeguard against aging, complacency and narrow-mindedness, not to mention helpful in keeping you in touch with who you are and what you want. I'm a just a cook, a simple girl. I am a good manager, I have a good instinct and palette, and a hungry mind.  But my knife skills suck, I have never been near a Michelin star, and I rely on timers. I don't like things chopped too fine or overly transformed (ie.fancy), and I hate protocol. And that's fine.

 

 

December 28, 2006

I’ve been meaning to post for weeks, but like everyone else, I have been so very busy. Everyone needs a cook at this time of year. And every cook needs to partake in a little Christmas cheer herself, leaving little time for this kind of thing.

My Personal Holiday highlights:

Tourtières: On the side of the fancy dinners, I did find the time to carry on my tourtière tradition and I made a whack of them, this year using 20kg of venison, duck, goose, pork and veal. They have been distributed all over the province to loved ones. The verdict isn’t entirely in yet, but so far they have gone over well with the guys; it is a man’s pie, chalk full of meat with a high protein to pastry ratio. This time, I used a butter lard crust, pretty yummy and easy to work with: http://www.canadianliving.com/CanadianLiving/client/en/Today/DetailRecipePrint.asp?i... The candies I gave out were vanilla, star anise and chocolate caramels, in case you were wondering. Not only did they puzzle a few people, these turned out to be a bad idea as they turn into a gooey mess if not refrigerated. I’ll stick to my usual buttercrunch next year. I had big plans for this beautiful wild turkey I was given, but never got around to cooking it. All I need now is a night off and a group of 10 friends who aren’t sick of turkey which might not happen until next year..

Good food:  In our fortunate lives, the holidays always mean so much good food.. I don't understand how anyone can be a Scrooge when there are so many goodies going around! I mostly worked through Christmas this year, but nonetheless, there were many gustatory high points...  

Best meals had: The best were some of the simplest: Oysters and champagne with FdB (François des Bois) after work, Homemade chicken pot pie, and Cheese Fondue out of a box (scandalous)... Oh and there was that elaborate meal at Panache – Merci François (Blais)!  There were the impromptu steaks on the BBQ at Dave's, leg of lamb at Cynthia's.  I also must note that my mom made a very delicious spicy lentil salad when I was home. You see, my mom feels like she has gotten some bad press here in my blog, and would like to see that rectifiied. The fact is that she has come along way in her cooking, no doubt because she no longer has 10 screaming kids in the house to care for, and since my dad has evolved to eating more than meat and potatoes. Don't worry Mom, I never blamed you for not cooking Lobster Thermidor for an army.

Best meals cooked: For elegance, fun and flavor, definitely, my menu on the 25^th for Kanuk took the cake, with 7 courses and canapés, very heavy on luxury ingredients. My favorite was the starter of a lobster salad with sea parsley, sea asparagus and fennel, with a fried oyster and pickled day lily bud aioli. I also got to indulge in a few knife tips of caviar (German farmed Russian sturgeon) while working that night too!  For a more casual dinner, I made these root vegetable sesame latkes that were dynamite, that dish will be a keeper. 

Holiday gifts: I know this sounds cheesy, but to me, the Christmas season and all that surrounds it (minus some of the commercialism) is the greatest gift in itself. It brings out the best in people, gets people together, encouraging us to stop for a second and think about others, to give and be grateful. Whatever your religion or lack there of, this time of year is about celebrating light, food and togetherness. And I love the warm, fuzzy feeling of Christmas carols, the Baileys and coffee afternoons by the fire, the skating, all the wining and dining and hugging and kissing. Needless to say, I also appreciate the odd material gift, but they are just bonuses..

Best gifts received: Besides the cold hard cash, my stand-outs were both handmade: my necklace from Ange, and the trio of morels that Dave carved out of soapstone. I also received this most delicious assortment of artisan leaf teas from Isabelle, so aromatic, beautiful packaging. For a taste of these very these special teas, visit Les Thés C.G. (9443 Lajeunesse, Montreal). I am also very excited about my gift to myself which will be book(s). Despite all the cool things I drooled over while browsing The Foodsection shopping list http://www.thefoodsection.com/shoppinglist/2006/12/2006_guide_to_h.html) (a comprehensive list of lists for everything food related) when I was window shopping earlier in the month, but sensibly refrained, books I can rationalize.  Maybe something from Leite’s Culinaria’s list, which is spot on for the serious literary-foodie type like myself: http://www.leitesculinaria.com/writings/features/best_2006.html.

Best gifts given: I was proud of my gifts this year because they were all eco-friendly, fair trade, for a charity or from my kitchen. The only exception I made was a dehydrator for FdB, which is made in the U.S. from plastic, but that can hardly be classified as junk, given the use he will get out of it.

Hangover cure: Since many of us are in imbibing mode these days, this might interest you... According to the crew at Gourmet, this hangover pill works. I'm skeptical, but hey.. Chinese food and gingerale works for me. www.chaserplus.com. 

Lucky food for New Year's Eve: Before you decide what to eat on New Year's eve, you might want to consider Epicurious' lucky foods list based on the different customs from around the globe. Apparently, certain foods such as pork and fish bring prosperity and happiness, while others, like lobster, are bad omens.... http://www.epicurious.com/cooking/holiday/new_years/luck/index?mbid=e122706

Even if the holidays are all about home and hearth, I can't help but dream about someone else cooking, and

All the restaurants I didn’t get to this year: It amazes me how vibrant the Montreal restaurant scene is, with restaurants and wine bars opening left and right, even in the dead of winter. Thank God there is the likes of Leslie Chesterman who is paid to check these places out and keep us posted, otherwise we would surely miss out on a lot amidst our busy lives. My personal “to check out” and “to revisit” restaurant lists keep growing as I find little time to go exploring in town.

Hotspots to check out: All pretty new on the scene, and all wine oriented bistros: Aszu in old Montreal (the old Au Cepage), Les Trois Bouchons and Le Bistro du Sommelier, on St-Denis. There’s also Ian Perrault’s new Laurier St. resto, La Halte Urbaine and I hear Patrick St-Vincent’s (Bu owner) has opened another??..

Then there are the not so new restaurants that I never got around to going, notably Anise, and Raza or Cocagne.. (Hopefully one of my b-day presents.. tell FdB) Others that I am curious about include L’Atelier, Jolifou, O Chalet, M sur Masson....

I will have to rely on second hand reports (please go!) for a little while longer. It doesn’t look like January will allow me to get much checked off my lists either. Maybe in February when I have a desk job. January is an uncharacteristically big month for me this year with our duck event, some teaching orientation, a freaking root canal, and a shlew of intensive testing at Rideau Hall.. Oh yeah, and when it’s all over, I will be 37.

Happily, the Montreal Highlights Festival only kicks off at the end of February. This year’s scheduling is especially enticing with the Big Apple as the featured city. There is lots of buzz in food circles about who will be where, and many of the hot tickets, like Daniel Boulud at Toqué, are certainly booked. However, there are many other worthy events. Check out the website or pick up the guide in any SAQ. http://www.montrealhighlights.com/

Our thematic Duck Dinner in January.....Speaking of worthy events, our annual duck dinner is back on popular demand at La Table des Jardins Sauvages the two last weekends in January. It is the same format as our mushroom dinners (7 days, 7 courses, 75$ BYOB, lots of wild stuff), but this time, we are featuring John Bastien’s organic duck. No, the dessert won’t be duck, but it will be made with duck eggs. Go see the menu http://soupnancy.squarespace.com/recipes-and-menus/, and book now if you’re in. www.jardinssauvages.com

And P.S. Thank you: According to my sister, who is an authentic literary type, my spelling needs some work. So, you’ll be happy to know that I will be installing an English spell-check. And I apologize for the unintentional derogatory term I used in my last post, I did not know. Don’t forget, I am just a cook who likes to write, not the other way around. I need all the help I can get, so keep the pointers and feedback coming, and Thanks.

 

Post Mushroom Week of Treats

2006-11-20

Now that I’ve come down from my mushroom high, and I am catching my breath, happily, I am finding a bit of time to indulge myself. Albeit without much of a break, I still managed to make this a week of treats, knowing that I have to nab the moments before the rush of Christmas parties begins.

Starting with Sunday, to celebrate our success, as well as our first day off in a month, François des bois and I decided to take ourselves out for dinner. We were exhausted, but wanted to eat well and to be served, but without too much fanfare. François had a big slab of meat in mind, and I was in the mood for fish; we both agreed that a nice bottle of wine was in order. We wanted no foie gras or sweetbreads, definately no tasting menu. So off we went on our quest for our reward. However, without driving into Montreal, the pickings are slim as far as good restaurants go, especially on a Sunday. We settled on Derrière les Fagots in Ste-Rose (Laval). It was in this parking lot that we shared our first kiss 3 (or maybe 4?) years ago. Aw shucks.

So, we’re feeling warm and fuzzy as we walk into the nicely lit, peaceful dining room, where the tables are large, linened and generously spaced apart, the chairs are comfortable, the servers warm yet professional. He orders a bloody caesar, and I a glass of champagne. So far so perfect. Until we pick up the menus and realize that it will be difficult to eat simply here. This is a fancypants place, and they know us. And so our battle with the chef begins. Of course, he won out (chefs usually do) and a 7 + course tasting menu with wine pairing ensued, foie gras, sweetbreads and all. At least, François got his beef, and I my fish, but we had to wade our way through umpteen precious little conconctions beforehand. Don’t get me wrong, the food was lovely. We enjoyed the veal cheek amuse and the tuna in a glass with daikon, oyster mushroom, and a yogurt sesame foam; I especially enjoyed the mackerel with coco bean purée, chorizo, raisins and almond. The sweetbreads were very “cochon” with butternut squash, bacon, arugula, Comté and truffle, but delicious. The first dessert, a coconut thingee with pineapple and passionfruit (again in a glass) was refreshingly sublime; the next dessert a valid effort in making quince and walnuts exciting, and the coffee was great. In the end, we left very happy. I guess what we needed most was to have someone else take charge, and to be spoiled. It was decadent and restorative. Sampling a talented chef’s artistry is always stimulating, even if you have to be forced into it. Gilles Herzog is very good.

For the rest of the week, needless to say, I satisfied my cravings for the simplest of food…. Cheese, eggs, oysters, home-made broth, plain white rice and lots of greens; I cannot get enough greens.

Another treat was Thursday night off and a comforting dinner at my home away from home, the Tavern, with my good friend, Barb. I ordered two salads. The kitchen must have thought I was crazy, but that’s what I wanted. A Caesar salad, followed by a grilled calamari, lentil and arugula salad. I know it disappoints chefs when another chef doesn’t order right, and isn’t interested in trying their most elaborate dish that they are most proud of. I remember getting frustrated with other chefs myself, trying to coax Anne into having the latest discovery or Dave McMillan into having something other than roast chicken, not getting it. It took a few years, but now, I realize that that is just the way it goes; the more you work with complicated food, the less you want to see of it on your time off. Or since you’ve tried it all, the more particular you become about what you like and want; you don’t need to impress or be impressed. In any case, I wasn’t going to be bossed into another meal I didn’t order this week. And it was great.

A third treat for me this week was not about eating, but about cooking, in the kitchen of my dreams. I catered a dinner in a private home, and that is where I met this most fabulous kitchen. My favourite feature besides the full set of All Clads, was the GIANT island with pull out refrigerator drawers for your MEP. If you don’t count the wine cellar... Cooking in someone else’s kitchen is often a headache, but this was a breeze, I actually had time to twiddle my thumbs. When asked to add an improvised cheese course, I scrambled to find some garnish, but no problem - the woman of the household had an assortment of aged balsamic and fresh fruit....not to mention all the plateware and utensils you can imagine, a noiseless dishwasher....wow. I’ve been around nice condiments and appliances before, but altogether, this was the best designed home kitchen I have encountered. It is mine now, in my dreams anyway.

A couple more days of work, but with small groups of clients, turned out to be a treat too, because then I get to do stuff I wouldn’t attempt on a big night. I made veal cheeks, sushi (which I had forgotten about because I made too much in the early 90’s) with salmon, wild ginger and sea asparagus, I made fresh pasta with crinkleroot, I fiddled around with dessert, patting a fragile butter crust into molds with an apple, wild cranberry filling and a clover-frangipane topping, adding many more components and steps then I normally would. Usually, I stick to “cook’s desserts”, you know....crème brulée, mousses, simple cakes and ice creams, wafer cookies and every combination of these. I save the sabayon, floating islands and finnicky stuff for small nights. So these small nights are a treat for me, I’m not the one counting the cash.

My week winded up with the treat of treats, dinner with the girls. The occasion was bittersweet since my good friend Ange is moving away, but we had a fabulous time at La Montée de Lait, a little gem of a restaurant on the Plateau, or is it Mile End (on Villeneuve near St-Denis). The room is very stark design-wise, the tables are cramped, but the food is inventive and enticing if you’re in the mood for a few frills without breaking the bank (4 courses for 40$). It is casual but with a “everything 3 ways” kind of menu. The wine list is very winner, as in researched and diverse in the good value category, with a few big bottles for the big spenders.

We sampled most of the short menu and everything pleased. There was a scallop appetizer done “à la carbonara” with bacon, egg yolk froth and parsley purée, a shrimp dish three ways that consisted of a bisque and skewer, another shrimp with leek compote and a fried shrimp with roast garlic and Ossau Iraty, very tasty. The Mac’n cheese was a ravioli stuffed with Mimolette cream, served with tomato confit and onion rings – amazing! The root vegetable medley, although listed very plainly, turned out to be four root vegetables all cooked differently: a sunchoke soup, a raw rabiole salad, a turnip gratin and a parnip dip with parsnip chips, all very successful. I like it when not everything is spelled out on the menu, and the plate surprizes. As a main or fourth, the other girls had pork belly with molasses glaze and brussel sprouts, very good, and I had a venison tartare, which was served in a glass (this time, I don’t agree) with a corn foam and potato chips. After I removed all the chips and started digging in, I found it perfectly seasoned, like a light version of traditional tartare, with the necessary spice, yet made delicate with a light hand and the corn.... I would have preferred it earlier in the meal, but whatever, it was delicious. Everything was. My girlfriends had dessert and equally enjoyed the (again glassed) chocolate-sponge toffee concoction. The fancy water was good too, although the appeal in perusing a water menu (and spending 9$ on a bottle) eludes me. Maybe it gives those in AA, or pregnant or straight, something exciting to do and think about beverage-wise, which is fine I suppose.

I was most glad to leave this place with a pleasant experience to associate it with, since the last time I dined here, although the food was fine, I didn’t have the greatest time. It went sour for a number of reasons, no one’s fault really..... my boyfriend and I were scrapping, he didn’t love his food, I made a poor pick with some experimental organic wine, there was a cold draft, nothing worked. That was the only time over dinner that I didn’t talk for ten minutes straight (we were in silent treatment mode) and it was certainly the only time that we didn’t finish a bottle of wine at a restaurant. Brutal. Anyway, now after today, that is erased, and I will only have fond memories of La Montée de Lait.

My week of treats was perfect. I saw my friends, got to visit my little pad in Montreal , I ate some great food, both simple and elaborate, I am sated. I’m ready to tackle anything. Bring on the Christmas season!

Also, here are some very cool things to check out:

This article appeared in the NY Times a week or so ago – it is a good summary of the food ethics issues I find most important…

http://www.nytimes.com/2006/11/15/business/smallbusiness/15recall.html?ex=1321246800&en=cb95ab5b4157a753&ei=5088&partner=rssnyt&emc=rss

Forwarded to me via Joel, this is a very cool hopeful story about chefs doing their part for peace in the Middle East.

http://www.treehugger.com/files/2006/11/a_little_peace.php

Here are some food movies to see, Ange's contribution....

http://www.elise.com/recipes/archives/004173favorite_foodie_movies.php

29-10-06

Sometimes I wonder what I'm doing up here.  Most days I do love it, but it IS another world... 

I should be eating my next words now, because as mushroom madness hits, this next couple of weeks, I will indeed be working 80+ hours a week, and there will be plenty of adrenalin flowing...  This wild mushroom event is the peak of the season here, and so much fun, but a ton of work, with stress levels that approach those of the real world.  Lets hope François and I don't kill eachother... 

If you're interested in coming, I've posted the menu, or visit www.jardinssauvages.com.  Ok, c'est parti, see you later.

St-Roch, Planet Mars

Nancy Hinton, 25-10-06

Up here at la Table des Jardins Sauvages in St-Roch d’Achigan, I feel like I have stepped off the planet of professional cheffing, that I am no longer in the real world. Just about everything is different from my restaurant kitchen experience up to now. It can be unsettling at times. I seldom work eighty-hour weeks; I don’t spend my days running after dozens of suppliers, managing a brigade of cooks, variable food and labor costs, dealing with fussy customers, running several menus at once. No, here, things are pared down to the bare essence of a restaurant meal. One fixed menu, one seating on reservation only, so a predetermined number of customers, and I only have one person or two to boss around. Because it is out of the way and out of the ordinary, patrons are generally eager and adventurous, primed for a good time, and it’s BYOB. We’re largely self sufficient in terms of raw materials. A few ingredients are outsourced, but we have venison and a multitude of wild plants, fruits and vegetables in our own backyard. Things are at their simplest, except in that we go all out in the kitchen. Many cooks fantasize about this kind of operation. I definately felt like I was in paradise this summer, with an abundance of beautiful produce to cook with. I would break up my prep with a pause around 3pm, put on my bathing suit and wade down the river to go pick my herbs and flowers for the night; what a treat.

A typical week for me consists of a day of cleaning and planning to begin with. I write the menu for the week, and draw up my lists. A day of shopping and errands ensues, while François picks or arranges for the rest. I do a day or so of pure MEP, and then a few days of service, with usually at least Sunday or some other day off. Some weeks, there is less cooking, and more picking, processing and preserving, all in accordance with nature’s rythyms and François’ less than linear patterns.

You see, François does things the old fashioned way. He is very Slowfood, without even knowing what that is exactly. He picks berries and greens and mushrooms the way his grandmother showed him. He makes full use of everything around him, while respecting nature. He knows the forests and fields like the back of his hand, and has stuff, both cultivated and wild, growing everywhere on his property. He pays close attention to how the plants and trees and mushrooms and birds are doing; he tends to them like his babies. He makes this pemmican like mixture for his woodpeckers, gourmet food for birds.  He has close ties with everyone around, trading mushrooms for maple syrup; he returns the empty baskets to the berry guy and the egg cartons to the egg guy. He chats to all the farmers, he knows who grows what and how, who the good guys are to support; he knows who pollutes and cheats. He is sharply tuned into his little world. And he follows his palette, unaffected by foodie trends and what’s going on in NYC. While I brought some professionalism and a refined touch to his rustic woodland table, his way with food has taught me a lot, brought be back to the basics, opened my eyes to nature, and given me new perspective.

I became close to the product and the land, and deepened my passion and understanding for food at l’Eau à la Bouche with Anne Desjardins. François took me further. No truffles here, why would we? With so many other mushrooms coming out of ears, and all these under exploited aromatic greens in our backyard, we don’t need much else. He’s constantly in the woods surveying every shrub. Daily, he reports some novelty, that a certain sprout or mushroom or berry is out, while something else is not far off, while something else is fading. He is always predicting the weather.

When it is fiddlehead time, that’s when the big rush begins, with weeks of long, backbreaking days, followed by all the washing, blanching and freezing or pickling. Then it’s the roots, and the flowers, making them into pastes, syrups, coulis, and vinegars, pickling, candying, or drying them. Then the marine plants come in July, so more blanching and freezing, some pesto, some dried herbs. The climax for François is the mushrooms, which we dry, freeze, and make into oil, butter, mustard, powder, duxelles, stuffings... depending on the mushroom. From the first signs of spring to long after the first frosts, it is a frenzy of eating fresh, and of putting up, processing for the year. That’s how we can be somewhat self-sufficient. And it is great to have all this produce harvested locally at its peak. Beats imports any day, except for maybe in February or March, when you’re just dying for something new and crunchy and green. Very different from ordering fresh and frequent from 40 odd suppliers, which was until recently, what I thought was the epitome of fine food sourcing, I found myself suddenly much more in tune with what was truly seasonal and fresh. And this way of working is much more sustainable, more sound, and probably more nutritious, certainly safer. We still follow the seasons, and take full advantage of everything in its prime, but we just save some for later, so that we are able to continue to cook locally and wild year round. Especially that for François’ business, that is what people come for.

There are drawbacks of course, besides the fact that winter is just a month or two too long. Because we don’t operate day in, day out, there is not a cooler full of food ready and a full staff always in house. We have to plan ahead, getting what we need in terms of food and help depending on the day, the number of reservations, which can fluctuate from 0 to 200 in a week, not unlike a catering business. Because I am alone in the kitchen apart from on big service days, I must be more organized than ever, with the menu planned with the lack of space and extra hands in mind. I must always keep a rotation of certain basic preparations like stocks, some charcuterie, pesto, and pie crust or tuile batter for instance, in store, so that I don’t have to start completely from scratch for each dinner; there just aren’t enough hours in a day when you’re a staff of one. But if I’m well organized, I can pull off a pretty elaborate menu, and I get to finish every sauce, tend to every detail myself, making sure everything is just so. Being master of my domain, fully in control of whatever comes out of the kitchen, is a good feeling. I don’t have to explain and train, then check, and double check every garnish and plate presentation, I just do it. I don’t have to write down recipes, I can change things on a whim, I am free. And I can’t blame anyone but myself if something isn’t up to snuff, I only have myself to answer to, which is enough, thank you.

The best thing about this place though, is the ambiance, which is a result of the setting, the clients, and the spirit of the place (François) combined. Because people have made this an outing, chosen something different, and driven out of their bubble, they are in escape mode, on a mini-vacation of sorts. They are more open-spirited than after a day’s work in the city, they feel nature around them; they are generally in a good mood, and ready to have a good time. The place is informal, so that people feel at home instantly. There is something to talk about, as many things they see around them or will taste are new to them, they are often like kids on a field trip. What an easy crowd to cook for! I know that if I do my job well, they will be enchanted; they are already half there. Sure, we come across the odd guest who is difficult, not up to trying something new or odd sounding, but nothing like in the city on a regular night in most restaurants. This is the most heavenly aspect of my current gig according to any cook friends I speak to who are relentlessly inundated with special orders and cranky clients. That and being able to jump in the river before and after service on a hot summer day.

Sure, sometimes, I miss the madness of the real world. I certainly wish I had a commis or two when I have 50 lb of chanterelles to clean, or 20 lb of sunchokes to peel, or when I need a massage. Last night, I could have used another strong cook to trust the venison to, while I finished the quail, it would have been smoother. On some days, I just miss the company and dynamics of a good brigade. I miss the stressful dance of coordinating different stations for an order, the juice and the mayhem of a crazy night, and the beers after. Sometimes, I just want to use regular ginger, not wild ginger, or plain old basil even if it’s not wild, or cook fish from across the globe. So, every now and again, I do, goddamn it. And I still need to know what’s going on in NYC. Thank God for the Internet. I need to keep a toe or two in the real world in case I return, and to stay true to who I am and how I like to cook.

But, I’m not quite ready to leave yet. When I have the occasional flashback, and the crazy life beckons, I step outside for a smoke by the bonfire, and hear the river rushing by. I am soon joined by ecstatic customers who make me feel like family and the queen at the same time, and I realize how good I have it here. And when François surprises me in the kitchen daily with his pickings: some wild oyster mushrooms to cook up, a cupful of the sweetest, miniature wild strawberries or a bouquet of wild clover flowers and mint, I feel so lucky I could explode. Ok, it’s not always perfect harmony… He thinks I’m too uptight and methodical, I think he’s too relaxed and disorganized. Worlds colliding.. but when it works, its great.

This place has been my world for close to a year now, and it has made me a better cook in some ways for sure. In calming me down, and grounding me, for one. Even though in many ways, this is more real than the real world, it still does not ever feel real to me, more like a dream that I’m awake in, partly because things are too wholesomely good, I think. Also because as soulful and welcoming as it is, it doesn’t feel like home. Like I’m a visitor on an enlightening find-yourself, get-away trip. No matter how laid back, “peace and love” I want to be, I’m just not. I guess I’m a city girl at heart, I like my adrenalin rushes, and need stimulating people around me. And I hate mosquitos.

Perhaps it is inevitable that I will sooner or later leave this bucolic, saner pace of life to return to the madness, far from the farm and the woods, where I will always be bitching and grappling with that gap. Maybe I have changed too much now for the city to feel like home either. So working in the city with a boyfriend in the country sounds like the ideal recipe then. We’ll have to see. Hopefully, I am still tough enough to put up with all the crap of the real world. At least it won’t smell like crap all the time.