soupnancy

Spring things

May 9, 2007

Spring has finally sprung in earnest, and chefs like me are dancing, revelling in the start-up abundance of everything fresh and green; it is finally time to put the tired roots aside.
daylily sprouts
erythrone
nettle
crinkleroot
ramps
fiddleheads
François and his fiddleheads
fiddleheads
viola 
In a mere week, everything around has sprouted up, the fields and forest floors have gone from drab brown to vibrant green, the birds are all back, the air smells alive, and François smells like dirt (in a good way). The first day lily sprouts and greens like stonecrop or live-forever, adder’s leaf and daisy are plentiful, the chives and crinkleroot are out, the fiddleheads are popping up wildly, the nettle and ramp greens too. Asparagus, peas and sorrel are hitting the markets; it’s the beginning of an endless stream of local food. – Hoorah! We’re still waiting for the morels though, although their less edible cousins, the gyromites are all over..

Before the onslaught of everything green, the first harbinger of spring for me is always marked by the arrival of the sweet snow crab and Nordic shrimp.. something to tide me over while waiting for the greens. Both these have been on the market for over a month now (and both are sustainable, local choices by the way). But get ‘em fresh and eat ‘em quick, go to the markets, La Mer or your trusted fish monger. You can ask to taste them first to ensure freshness. Nordic shrimp often get a bad rap only because they have a short shelf life, and so are often frozen and mushy and fishy, nothing like when they are fresh. They are like candy, sweet and addictive, and one of my favourite things in the world, as finger food with the head on, plain for breakfast, or in a simple salad for lunch or dinner!

Now, it's all about Fiddlehead season here..  The infamous fiddlehead fern and François's first baby, is the first true local green vegetable that everyone knows, and that means madness here at Wild Plant central. He kicks off the season by donning his one piece rubber boot suit and taking his canoe out to get to the first ones. This year was a late start relative to the last couple of years, but once it hit, as with everything else (dandelions and company), it went faster then usual. The first fiddleheads are tough picking (still basically underground and sparse), but are prized and so are snapped up quickly at 7$/lb (reserved for Toqué and me). A few days of sun later, the season really gets under way, and eager pickers start showing up with 50 to 100 lb bags. When the season peaks, a week or two later (which is as of now), the price will have fallen and settled at 3$/lb wholesale. Worth every penny when it comes to quality, which means picked in an unpolluted place and close to the ground. And trust me, this is hard earned money on the pickers' parts.  Especially when it’s done right, picking is back-breaking work, not to mention what it does to your hands; one day was enough for me.

When you’re out there buying fiddleheads in the unregulated market jungle, check the source (know where they were picked or at least that they are from a reputable supplier) and be wary of low prices. Look for tightly curled fern heads with no fuzz down the stems, there should be very little stem, and they should be bright green with no brown. Cook them in lots of boiling water, noting that the water should not turn jet black (a bad sign), a reddish color is normal. They are best cooked through, not just for safety, but also for taste. I find the best solution is to double blanch them 2 minutes each time, changing the water in between. That way, they are cooked sufficiently, but still retain some texture. Then, they are ready to dress or sauté or stew or pickle, however you want. If you want them really crunchy, then the best bet is to serve them cold, pickled or in a vinaigrette. Au contraire, one of my favourites is an old recipe of François’ (Façon Bas du Fleuve) in which they are falling-apart-soft and a pale, not so appetizing green color, but absolutely delicious, and only two ingredients, onions and salt pork.

I’m leaving you with a few more modern style recipes for fiddleheads too, so that you can explore them hot or cold, as a side or as the star. I’ll add on a few other spring recipes to inspire you as well.. See the recipe archives..

http://soupnancy.squarespace.com/recipes-/2007/5/9/5-ways-with-fiddleheads.html

http://soupnancy.squarespace.com/recipes-/2007/5/9/snow-crab-or-lobster-salad.html

Even if you don’t hit the kitchen, at least get out there and enjoy the weather, visit the markets or the country if you can.. I’ll be making our signature stinging nettle soup this weekend if you want a real taste of spring. Mmmm, this year I think I will garnish it with a froth made from ramp (wild garlic) leaves, and bacon..

Our menu for the weekend:  http://soupnancy.squarespace.com/recipes-/

And don't forget to check out La Semaine Verte on Radio Canada (channel 4) on Sundays at 12:30pm.  Starting May 20th, every Sunday for 12 weeks, François will be a guest, introducing viewers to a new wild plant or two as things of interest come into season..  http://www1.radio-canada.ca/actualite/v2/semaineverte/

Critics and The Star System

The Challenge of Quantifying Quality

by Nancy Hinton, April 16, 2007

When scoring wines, rating restaurants, or even ranking lovers, the question is whether a standard barometer for sensory pleasure makes sense, and if so, how do we fairly accomplish this? With a number, a letter, or words, and according to what rules? How effective is this anyway? And do we need it?

I got thinking about all this for a number of converging reasons, from the whole Jeffrey Chodorow affair last month (when a restaurateur with a zero star review took out a rebuttal ad in the NY Times) to the Parker effect in the wine world around me, as well as the ongoing arguments among friends over newspaper restaurant ratings.

Words or numbers?

Thanks to Wine Spectator and the Parker Phenomenon, number scores for wine are now common. This is a very American construct by the way, in opposition to the entrenched European style long on romanticism and short on numbers.

In Montreal, we see this difference in approach in our city’s restaurant reviews, with La Presse, which uses a descriptive, critical blurb and no grade, whereas in the Gazette, like in New York Times, we see a bold star rating followed by a supporting critique; the emphasis on measuring performance just above delivering qualitative information.

The New York Times restaurant review, the mother of all ratings of this kind in NA in terms of clout, is considered by many as the ultimate reference in NYC and regularly causes much uproar. The French have the Michelin guide, which is a historic three star system, but a different creature altogether, only judging the cream of the crop. A mere star is an honour, with 70 or so two-stars and only twenty six three-star restaurants.. On this side of the Atlantic , one star would be a lacklustre grade. Here, we’re more generous with our stars, but then take them away to determine the score. The guides with authority in Quebec besides local newspapers, are the CAA, the Voir, the Guide Debeur, all with slightly different criteria and scales of their own. The Zagat consumer based guide, hasn’t made significant inroads here, mostly because it’s in English only.

No matter the format of the rating system, in our evaluation of the arts, selecting a number or a making a global statement is an especially difficult, controversial process. Think about it, even words don’t mean the same thing to everyone. Unlike in math or a bicycle race, there aren’t many absolutes in the subjective world of taste and a good time out.

Grey matter

Being a diplomatic, ‘nothing is black and white’ kind of girl, absolute scores like restaurant stars have always made me uneasy. Nevertheless, I do secretly kind of like them. I consume year-end reviews and top-ten lists with glee, I eagerly flip to the dining review in the Saturday paper, all the while feeling a little trashy deep down.

Why do I like the stars, even though I don’t really believe in them? I am drawn to stars and ratings probably because like most of my generation, I grew up on them. Mine was an era of percentage scores, contests with definite winners and losers, and gold stars that I sought to get stamped on my work. I am indeed competitive by nature. But more importantly, I believe in honest opinions, I honour truth and value quality. I accept that some are better than others at a given task, and I like to see those that manage to rise above mediocrity get pats on the pack. I think laziness and poor work should be nailed as such. There is also that natural inclination of mine towards order and classification that surely has roots in my scientific background. Although life has taught me otherwise, the desire to quantify reality is deeply ingrained in me. And like most people, although I know I should hold back from being judgemental, I can’t help it.

Apples and oranges

The thing is, as Nathalie Maclean states in ‘White, red, and read all over’ (a great breezy wine book), “An emotional response can’t be quantified mathematically”. She includes an amusing Adam Gopnik quote in the New Yorker about a man and his harem that makes the point..

‘A man who makes love to fifty some women and then publishes a list in which each one gets a numerical grade, would not be called a lady’s man; he would be called a cad..’

Scaling restaurants is problematic because like women, wines and restaurants are unique; there are personality quirks, and a non-tangible, fleeting, and sometimes magical element to the relationship or experience. Just like you can’t compare apples and oranges, you can’t accurately compare a no-fuss bistro serving tried and true classics with a formal, innovative place; they’re just different.. How do you compare a new Asian restaurant that has beautiful food with chintzy décor and a poor wine list with an ‘haut de gamme’ French restaurant with history, ultra professional service, Riedel glasses and acceptable, by the book food? How do you justly gage a tapas joint or a wine bar against a BYOB? You can compare them on price point or on service, on décor or on authenticity, but overall, it is impossible to do so without nuance; the stars cannot stand alone. Even a few qualifying paragraphs hardly suffice. Restaurant critics try to deal with this dilemma by judging a restaurant according to its raison d’être, what it is trying to be. Talk about obscure guidelines, regardless of how noble the idea is. Add to that the fact the restaurant product, and to a lesser extent any wine, is in flux, constantly evolving, any one experience a singular, unique snapshot in a reel of thousands.

So given all this, how much value should these ratings be given, and who do you trust? The democratization of criticism and art today means that anyone can put out a music video (or a blog); everyone’s opinion matters, anyone can claim to be an expert.. Overall, I think this is a good thing. Dialogue and multiple views offer perspective. But like with the internet, it also means wading through a bunch of crap on a daily basis on any given subject to uncover any truth.

Short cuts

The major problem is we don’t have time for it. (For that reason, I’m sure most haven’t made it this far down my post..) Our attention spans are shorter; we’re in a rush, we’re multi-taskers and skim readers. We want the reader’s digest version of everything; there is no time for details and real complexity. Hence, we rely on such tools as top-ten lists, stars and ‘so and so’’s pick’s to tell us what to consume. We need oversimplification in our fast paced lives.

It allows us to have the overwhelming excess of information around us to be boxed and filed away for easy retrieval. We also like to feel like we know more about all the things of which we know very little, so that we can feel like we’re really living, or at least have some interesting dinner conversation. Mainly, we appreciate convenient short cuts to the good stuff because they save us time. Shouldn’t we be able to trust the experts anyway? Whoever they are..

Five stars says who?

I enjoy having access to lists, ratings and expert opinions, being keenly aware of their limitations. I know who I like and who I don’t (I still read them). But that’s the key, context. Who. We should know that a review is just one person’s opinion, one slice of a story. We should pick our guides and pay attention to who wrote an article or who backed a certain study or produced a show, etc., so we know how to take it. Like when doing research, you try to consult many sources, and check credentials, before accepting anything as currency. Wikipedia offers a quick fix, a few hints, not a basis for a thesis. Most critics, like artisans, have their personal agendas and prejudices.

More than ever, in this age of sound-bites, people make unchecked statements all the time, and it seems acceptable. I get so annoyed with quotes that such and such a place is a 5 star hotel or restaurant, for example. Five stars says who? What are their criteria, what does it mean? If there is no source, it means nothing to me. I also cringe at newspaper headlines making a big claim, citing one vague ‘scientific’ study or some anecdotal evidence, knowing that many readers will take it as law without finishing the article, and decide that butter is bad or that MSG is a plague.

My conclusion is that amidst this sea of opinions, we need the critics with credentials more than ever. I like to read, and so personally prefer an article with substance full of grey, over a black and white star rating. But the star ratings can be fun, like icing on a cake. We must all just take it for what it is…not the holy grail, but some info, a possible lead, or merely some entertainment..

When it comes to entertainment, Beware

Before getting so caught up in criticism as sport though, we mustn’t forget about the real effects it has in real people’s lives. A restaurant is someone’s business, their livelihood, years of blood, sweat and tears, and home to a family of employees and regular customers… A wine is the same thing, usually decades of hard work, investment, patience and love, with troops of earnest faces behind. A bad review necessarily hurts all of these people.

On the flip side, any artist, producer or chef has to answer for what he/she puts out there. They must be thick-skinned, able to take some criticism, and accept that ‘you can’t please everyone’. To survive, they must stay focused on their art, their product, their customers, and not what too many outsiders think. Criticism is a part of doing business and making art.

Too much influence, the uniformity of taste

Besides some potentially hard feelings, the danger of any critic or guide gaining too much influence is that it can start to alter the art, the kind of wine being made or the food being cooked. A trend towards uniformity in taste is never a good thing because not only does it mean a loss of diversity on the landscape of taste, it often results in a ‘dumbing down’ to the lowest common denominator and a lower quality product overall. Big business lobbies and marketing strategies are surely guiltier of this, but a variety of independent critics can balance this effect, in a sense protecting us, all the while challenging the purveyors of our pleasure to perform their best.

The critic, our friend

Critics often claim that they are working for the average diner or customer, that they are a defender of the public, guiding the innocent to sure hits, and away from bad meals and rip-offs. But, really, the only establishments I don’t mind seeing criticized are the frauds, those out to make a dime by fooling people, those who deal in poor quality and charge far too much. I’m all for the outing of a hoax, but cheer far louder at the celebration of an underdog. And in fact, nothing does either like a no star or a full star rating. As long as there is something to back it up, a real person you can know and trust.

Sometimes though, we must agree to disagree, and take it all with a grain of salt.

April 6, 2007

Easter eggs evoke much more than the fun, 'yum factor' and children’s glee if you stop for a second; a host of issues hide behind, including the dominance of factory farming in our egg supply, and the exploitation associated with chocolate. I feel cheap in ignoring these as we party, but in the spirit of not pissing people off on this festive weekend, I’ll leave the politics for another time and focus on the good stuff. I guess I am shamefully more of a hedonist than an activist, but I AM grateful, so there.

EASTER

My ode to the egg

It is Easter.. Time to PAY HOMMAGE TO THE EGG, I say. That's what Easter means most to me, sorry Dad. It’s EGG APPRECIATION DAY". Afterall, there should be one measly day in the year when you stop and say, "Wow, eggs are great, and oh my God, am I ever thankful for eggs!"

Let me remind you how great eggs are. They are nice to look at and hold, even without the painted colors of the day. They are always extremely nutritious and delicious. But most of all, they are incredibly quick, useful and versatile, a cook's best friend.

They emulsify and bind, they leaven and thicken, they seal and coat, they add color and gloss. They add flavour, mouth-feel, richness or lightness to preparations, both hot and cold. Think mayonaisse, hollandaise, and the many egg based sauces like carbonara, Alfredo, avgolomo. Eggs are key in stratiatella, flans, royales, custards, cakes, quickbreads, brioche, cream puffs, ice cream, froths, foams and meringues, crispy cookies, macarons, crabcakes, stuffings, and mousses.... They are fabulous pickled - yah, that tavern favourite rocks!  And we mustn’t forget about just plain (but never so plain) old scrambled eggs, the ultimate comfort food. They can also be made into the fanciest, most elegant fare when snazzed up with some wild mushroom or sea urchin. I could keep going you know.

Easter weekend is a time of rejoicing and celebrating for most of us, whatever our background. For some it’s just a long weekend, but for most it’s about rebirth in someway, and eggs symbolize that perfectly. Be it to mark the rebirth of Jesus and the break from the fasting of lent, or at the very least the advent of spring, with the longer days and the promise of new and exciting things, it’s a time for ‘la fete...’ For the kids, it’s all about chocolate. For me, it’s all about eggs. In your weekend feasts which will surely feature an egg or two at some point, take a moment to raise your glass to the glorious egg!  Cheers and Happy Spring to all!

Chers Chefs et Restaurateurs,

(Je m'excuse d'avance pour mes erreures de tête carrée..)

Plusieurs parmis vous vous souvenez sûrement de François Brouillard, le coureur des bois qui faisait les ruelles de Montréal pour vous fournir de plantes sauvages pendant des années.. Pour les nouveaux chefs, je vous présente François, un pionnier dans le sauvage comestible, qui avec sa compagnie, les Jardins Sauvages, cueille et travaille pour promouvoir les plantes sauvages du Québec en cuisine depuis 20 ans.

Même si vous ne l’avez peut-être pas vu dernièrement, je vous assure qu’il est encore très présent, et encore la référence ‘sur le terrain’ dans les plantes sauvages et champignons comestibles du terroir québécois.

Au courant des années, François a évolué dans ses connaissances de plantes, et forcement aussi en tant que entrepreneur. Il a changé de direction, mettant plus d’énergie dans sa table champêtre, ses produits transformés et sa nouvelle compagnie Bon Bolets. Il a élaborer une série de produits de haute qualité à base de bolets qui est finalement sur le marché, notamment son huile de bolets de finition, bien aromatique. Penser à l’huile de porcini importé et ajouter de la puissance, mais tout naturel et Québécois, un meilleur qualité prix.

Ça ne veut pas dire qu’il a oublié les chefs, au contraire, il est maintenant plus informé de ce qu’ils/elles veulent, et comment plus facilement travailler ensemble. La nouvelle formule marche sur commande. Alors, si vous l’avertissez d’avance, il peut arranger pour la cueillette des produits qui vous intéressent et une transformation si désirée.

Il cueille toutes ses plantes à l’année longue pour se fournir lui-même et encore un peu plus, mais il ne peut pas prévoir ce que les gens veulent parmi sa vaste gamme de produits.. Souvent les chefs veulent le produit brut, d’autres le veulent transformé, soit séché, congelé, en pâte ou en coulis, en vinaigre, en sirop ou en huile.

Maintenant, avec mes services de chef/consultant, François a plus de flexibilité, pouvant offrir le produit travaillé comme vous le voulez, ainsi que de la consultation pour ceux qui ne connaissent pas beaucoup ces produits ou la meilleure façon de les travailler. Je sais ce qui est pratique pour les chefs, comment mieux préparer le produit (le dosage, la forme) pour la MEP et la conservation selon l’utilisation et la recette que le chef veut faire. Avec les connaissances des plantes de François et ma capacité culinaire, on peut vous offrir un meilleur service plus personnalisé.

Des exemples de ce que nous avons déjà fait pour certaines cuisines: la pâte de carcajou, le gingembre sauvage en moutarde ou en extrait, des sirops de fleurs de sureau, de vanilla-grass, et de thé des bois. Les fruits peuvent être geler IQF-sousvide ou transformer en coulis, même en sauce finie. Les feuilles peuvent être transformé en pesto ou séché, les fleurs aussi. Pour certains produits, on peut également blanchir et congeler ou mettre en conserve. Pour un chef en dehors du Québec, nous avons blanchi et congelé sous-vide 120 lbs d’arroche de mer avant de le shipper par avion pour faire ses stocks pour l’année.

Ci-joint est la liste des produits à jour de François pour vous donner une idée de ce qui est possible et quand les plantes sont en saison. Nous avons des petites quantités de quasiment tout sous la main, mais pour des commandes importantes ou hors saison, il faudra consulter d’avance. Il faut toujours tenir en compte qu’avec le sauvage, on ne peut jamais garantir la date, on suit le rythme imprévisible de Dame nature.

Pour ceux qui sont curieux mais n’ont jamais travailler ces plantes, ne gênez vous pas de nous appeler ou venir nous rencontrer sur rendez-vous, et on pourra vous guider.

Les plantes sauvages comestibles sont une vraie ressource culinaire de notre terroir et héritage qu’on devrait apprécier et exploiter avec respect, faire connaître aux gens et en être fière. Par contre, pour goûter aux plantes à leur meilleur, il faut les cueillir à la bonne place, au bon moment, et correctement. Avec l’expertise de François et son véritable amour et respect pour l’environnement, vous êtes sure de la qualité du produit et de la cueillette saine et renouvelable.

Si ça vous intéresse, SVP appeler nous ou visiter le site www.jardinssauvages.com, ou encore mieux, venez manger un menu gastronomique à la table. François est en salle, et moi en cuisine la fin de semaine. .

Au plaisir,

Nancy Hinton

En collaboration avec les Jardins Sauvages, François Brouillard

Toque on top

February 28th, 2007 

Toque remains on top in my books, no contest, when it comes to fine dining. I like simple food a lot of the time.. cheese and charcuterie, a no fuss bistro, a simple salad, a vegetable stir-fry, steak tartare. A good sandwich is probably my favourite meal. But with chef friends in from out of town for a couple of days of power eating and the Montreal Highlights festival in full swing, it was time for some fancypants food. Despite the many events going on simultaneously last Wednesday, we chose a non-event, and booked Toqué, which turned out to be quite the event.

We opted for the surprise tasting menu, which showcases their best in a series of small plates with wine pairing. A few bonus courses were graciously thrown in taking us into the 10+ range. Only at Toque do I not get bored or saturated with this length or complexity of a meal these days. It’s because Normand and his team master the tasting menu, with small but adequate portions, enough flavour and innovation to excite while keeping it subtle and easy on the palate. The service was also perfect in the same kind of way, delivering inspired wine pairing, everything we needed and enough information to satisfy and stimulate, yet tasteful and restrained, just the right amount of distraction.

The feast started with a Raspberry Point oyster on the half-shell with a citrusy fruit salsa, and fragrant olive oil. Next up was the most delicate little potato chip sandwich stuffed with gravelax, crème fraiche, caviar and a chive. Crisp and greaseless, with a silken, creamy, salty center, it was down right delicious. A tataki of big-eye tuna with a vinegary yellow beet brunoise, sesame (I think), and red beet paint followed, delightfully fresh and bright. I loved a miniscule calamari salad with sprouts, tiny enoki mushrooms, lime and almonds that was rich in textures, but again refreshing and delicate in taste. Spanish Mackerel with a vegetable glaze, a paper thin wafer of herbed toast and red pepper was another composition of textures and tastes, with a perfect cuisson and a savory, vaguely smoky taste. At this point, while others at the table had seared foie-gras, I had a scallop - brandade dish. This plate was intriguing with a lot going on for a Toqué plate, but all the tastes played off one another beautifully; the scallop was crusty and salty-sweet, the chunky brandade was perfect as an accompaniment (alone, I would like it zingier); there was a super smooth puree of cauliflower, a strand of braised lettuce that tasted like basmati rice and some teeny, toothsome mushrooms in a jus. We moved into meat with the next course, an upside down, open-face Cavaletti (fresh pasta) over succulent braised beef cheek in a rich pan sauce and subtle spicing reminiscent of anise or Chinese 5 spice. The ‘main’ consisted of a few slices of canneton (female duck) supreme, tender and pink in a sweet jus with raisins, hazelnuts, pearl onion and baby veg. The cheese course was divine, with a slice of melted Le Grand Manitou from L’Assomption atop a mini potato-onion layer cake. The pre-dessert was tart and refreshingly cool, featuring a mysterious yellow berry from the Townships (arbousière) as a sorbet showered with petals sweet and sour wafer made from the same fruit, all thankfully mellowed by an accompanying yogurt-white chocolate mousse. The final dessert course was a chocolate crème brulée with airelles and orange zest, decadent in taste, and comfortingly soft and creamy beneath the crust; however, it was too rich for any of us to finish. Thank God the mignardises were thumbnail size bursts of flavour, nothing more. Voilà. Extravagant, eh?

Can you believe I ate all that? Without anything to say, but wow. Without feeling like I was going to explode. It was all so elegant, a study in balance. Chapeau. The meal was so intricate and the conversation so engaging, that unfortunately, some of the details got lost along the way. And I barely remember any of the wines, except for a Catalan red that I really enjoyed. Oh well, there is only so much even a foodie like me can take in. Especially when everything is so tasty and flawless, the unfolding of the evening so smooth, you kind of get lulled into a dream like state, won over, putty in their hands, no longer able to think. Kind of like Elaine when she was having too much sex, happily numb and dumb from sensual excess.

In any case, I am sure I could not have eaten any better at any of the special staged events around town. You don’t need the Highlights Festival for culinary fireworks when you have Toqué any day. As far as I can tell, there’s nothing quite like it in Montreal . When you are in that kind of mood.

La Route des Epices chez Anise avec François Chartier

February 27, 2007

The Montreal Highlights festival delivered many treats too to be sure, with an overwhelming number of themed dinners and visiting chefs. One such event that I was lucky enough to attend was The Spice Trail with François Chartier at Anise. This meal was full of exotic surprises and creative spot-on wine pairings. Racha Bassoul’s mastery of spices and playful spirit meeting M. Chartier’s wine expertise and outside the box thinking.

This event was a real trip if you were paying attention to all the details. The menu was a booklet (designed by Epynord..) that also explained the thought process behind the pairing, providing much to chew on mentally for the curious like me. It was a good thing, because M. Chartier himself was not there, and I think it might have been a bit much for the servers talking about the Romans, and molecules in wine.. But all those interesting tidbits and background offered another level of titillation, elevating the experience above the ordinary.

A sparking cider with elderberry syrup (made by me) started off the evening with some addictive cumin spiced popcorn and nuts. The first course was constructed around ‘sotolon’, the chemical component responsible for the characteristic flavour of the Jura Vin Jaune, which is also present in fenugreek, and to a lesser degree in maple syrup and molluscks. So they infused a Juraçon with fenugreek and served it alongside 3 Princess Scallops with different froths, one sake, one fenugreek and one maple. You could not help but get the point and identify that sotolon taste, which was neat.

The next course was killer, so good.. A piece of monkfish with cardamom, coffee and boletus risotto with a New Zealand Pinot Noir (Carrick 2003). The inspiration here was the Bedouin cardamom coffee ritual, of which we were given a whiff before digging in. Coffee goes with oak aged wines and cardamom is part of the molecular aromatic profile of cold climate New Zealand wines. The complementary flavours were layered, with milder King oyster and chicory, as well as a stuffed olive bread that looked like a wedge of Morbier, and the risotto rounded it all out. Very complex, very satisfying.

The foie gras course was another big hit at our table. First we were served a black tea fragrant with curry leaves, anise and Sichuan peppercorn. While we sipped that, our foie gras steamed in a mini tea pot above a clove scented broth, which became pudding like and was then to be eaten on a mini loaf of tea bread. I don’t think I’ve ever had foie gras steamed before, and I couldn’t help but think of all that was lost through the mesh, but there was no denying that it was delicious. The intoxicating aromas of the broth was what got me though, I can still taste it, wow. The wine was a Spanish Bierzo, a rare cousin of Cabernet Franc that has hints of smoke like in the tea, and also contains eugenol, the active ingredient in cloves.

The main course was Boileau venison rack with chocolate and licorice, to go with a Domaine de la Grange des Pères 2003 (Vin de pays de L’Hérault). The idea here is that liquorice softens the Syrah’s tannin, while the pyrazines in chocolate match the Cabernet component of the wine, and some Pimenton was added to the mix for the Mourvedre. On the side was a sun-choke puree ever so subtlety tasting of liquorice, and a basil garnish (anise again). The sun-choke was great, and the meat was tender and flavourful; the sauce was frightfully intense on its own, but with the wine, it all came together.

An Alsace Pinot Gris (Clos Windsbuhl 2004) eased us into the wind down of the meal, the transition from savoury to sweet. Back to white, a soft rind ripened Fougerus cheese was served stuffed with spiced honey and nuts. The finale brought the only South African wine of the night, the famous Vin de Constance 2000 (Klein Constantia Estate) and a beautiful composition of sweets using the aromas evoked by the wine. There was a miniature gingerbread house, homemade vanilla cotton candy and three candied apple cylinders, one wrapped in rose water gelée, another with curry and the last with pineapple caramel. Stunning, and intricate, it was impossible not to be charmed by these precious little morsels, finishing the night on a definite high note.

All in all, I have to say that the meal was amazing. Because of the inventive menu, the sensory tricks, the lingering spell of Racha’s spices. And because François Chartier is intensely meticulous and knows his stuff. But the main thing is they built the menu around the wines, as opposed to the other way around, resulting in a sum that was greater than its parts. From my own experience doing wine-pairing tasting menus too, I have found that you always get a more perfect match by starting with the wine. It’s easier to fiddle with the food than change the wine. And as a chef, you end up doing things you wouldn’t normally think to do with a particular foodstuff, the wine becomes part of the recipe, like a sauce or condiment, its fun.

Despite the fact that this was indeed a convoluted menu, it turned out to be a good example of innovation and gimmicks done right, not overdone. And after all, it was a special occasion; most people were there expecting some tricks. But not everyone cares to probe so far into the alchemy of taste, many just want to taste good food and be treated nice. There was enough of both for everybody. I had my booklet to explore so I was able to indulge my foodie side and learn something without my dining companions getting too bored. And although there were constant intrusions and instructions, typical of this kind of menu, what stood out was the pure pleasure on the palate, and the artful plates. There might have been acrobatics behind the scenes, but you didn’t have to know anything about spices or the research behind the matches to know that it was simply delicious. Which is what counts the most in the end.

Their little dance was a success with Racha’s generous touch softening M. Chartier’s cerebral edge.. Tango or Waltz, a bit of Jazz, whatever it was, it was seductive, a bit of magic on a cold winter night.

No Shows

Feb. 25, 2007 

We had another week-end with plenty of no-shows, ouch.  I can't help but join the debate.

How to deal with cancellations has always been a sore spot for restaurants, and now it’s a hot topic all over. From the recent controversy on E-gullet surrounding a last minute cancellation at Joe Beef that elicited a rude response from one of the owners, to the ongoing discussion among NYC restaurateurs on Frank Bruni’s blog, it is apparent the issue of ‘no shows’ is a continual source of tension between restaurants and customers.   http://tinyurl.com/2j45vb

In New York , it is common enough to be asked for a credit card number when reserving, especially for a party of six or more; but it was when Daniel Boulud’s receptionist demanded a signed credit card receipt to be faxed in that a certain customer become irate, and the discussion was brought to the table again.

The exchange on E-gullet Montreal concerning the episode at Joe Beef was mixed, some finding no excuse for the reprimand, sticking by the ‘the customer is always right’ rule, while others sympathized and tried to explain the restaurant’s hostility. Most agree that management at Joe Beef could definitely have been more polite over the phone, but I’m sure many were silently gleeful at the thought of someone voicing this common frustration. Anyone in the business can relate, knowing that that call was probably the ‘last straw’ in a string of previous hits.

The fact is that 10-20% of reservations regularly fail to show up, and restaurants, especially destination restaurants, pay the price on a regular basis. Some already charge enough to make up for this, but most don’t. It has become a part of doing business, but really it shouldn’t be, with the profit margin in fine-dining already as low as it is. In the rest of life, there is generally a penalty if you don’t take a commitment seriously. To reserve seats for a show, you have to buy tickets. At a spa, or even at the dentist, if you aren’t nailed with a surcharge, you will risk being dumped. And so, people treat these reservations more responsibly, but when it comes to restaurants, it’s no big deal.

Of course, in life especially nowadays, things come up, and often there is a good reason to cancel; but if you think there is a good chance you might not be able to honour your reservation, then you shouldn’t be making it, unless you’re willing to pay to secure it just in case. You can’t reserve several sought after tables around town so that you can decide at the last minute where you feel like going, without paying for that privilege.

Although restaurateurs here are too afraid to be too demanding, those that do ask for a down-payment only take a nominal fee, 25$ a head or 15-25% of a flat rate. It seems fair enough to me, especially given that you will have a reasonable delay to cancel if need be. And as Batali points out, the threat of a charge generally makes the person treat the reservation responsibly, so the exchange is most often avoided altogether.

I cook in a place that works on reservation only, and for large groups we require a deposit. However, like most Quebeckers, we are soft on the concept, and often ride on good faith if it’s someone we somewhat know, and we never ask it for 2’s or 4’s, even 6’s. Week after week, those 2’s and 4’s and 6’s add up, and we regularly absorb the loss. Food is prepped and staff is on hand based on the expected number of clients, and then some, to cover any surprises. So what do we do? Maybe we should overbook, as hotspots on St-Laurent do (and I find highly annoying), more insulting than being asked for a CC number. Or maybe we should just charge more to make up for the extra food and labour costs implied, or be overly strict with the cash down like Daniel, hoping that it will largely eliminate the problem. The thing is, any of these solutions costs the customer more, when there could be no cost if people just took more responsibility for their reservations. Restaurateurs don’t want to be tough; we wish we could forget about the business side of our vocation and just create. We’re generally out to please and would be understanding in the case of an occasional cancellation, but it’s more than that. We also have to save our hide, and frankly, it is insulting to be disrespected by an unpredictable number of costly no shows day after day.

This guy who bailed on Joe Beef wrote about it innocently on E-gullet, so obviously, he didn’t think he was being a bad guy. That goes to show that there is misunderstanding and miscommunication between the parties, and so it’s good that the dialogue is going, and ways of dealing being sorted out.

Ultimately, it is up to the restaurant operator to find the right solution for his/her particular business, and enforce it. Some restaurants in town get walk-ins, so they might want to take the risk, others will just work it into their price. It’s not up to the customer to know what the restaurant business entails, to worry about the finances. It is up to us to set our proper guidelines. When everything is clear, we can all be nice about it. And get back to the food.

Too little too late, a fine meal at Anise

February 15, 2007

The commercial non-sense of Valentine’s Day aside, I’ll take any excuse to go out for a nice dinner, even if we all know it is probably the worst day of the year to sample a new restaurant. But in my case, the clock was ticking, because my restaurant of choice was Anise, Racha Bassoul’s renowned restaurant on Laurier.

Yes, I am one of those horrible people who let Anise down. Even if I am a foodie and lover of restaurants, who was highly interested in Anise, having only heard good things for years, I never actually made it there. I almost missed the boat. Despite the highest acclaim, a classy, innovative chef, and a central location, the doors are soon closing after a mere five years. Some Montreal foodies are scratching their heads, especially on the heel of another top Montreal restaurant (Les Chevres) shutting down last month. Much has been said in the media since on the state of the Montreal restaurant scene, with the blame slammed on everyone from the out of touch restaurateurs to the harsh economy, to the fickle or ignorant clients.

Most people in the industry only find it very disheartening. Others have been unabashedly critical, claiming that it’s high time chefs wake up to the fact that restaurants are businesses.  It's a bit of all these things for sure.  Of course, a restaurant concept has to have a market and be informed by it in order to survive. We all know success in the restaurant business requires more than raw talent, and that dining is about much more than just food.  Nonetheless, I still think that Montreal, widely considered to be a food-centric city, should be able to support a wide variety of restaurants, and at least a handful of these high end ones. Maybe there are too many restaurants in Montreal for the size of the clientele, but it maddens me to see so many lack-lustre restaurants survive while the cream of the crop are struggling. There are obviously not enough foodies in Montreal who put their money where their mouth is, for whatever reason.

Some of us just don’t have the money to spend on fine dining too often. Others just don’t value this kind of experience enough to pay the price even if they can afford to. Haut de gamme restaurants like this suffer from a stigma that they are stiff and expensive, sometimes deservedly so; in any case, people either save them for special occasions or shun them altogether, choosing a restaurant that offers a livelier ambiance, less stuffy food and service, more bang for the buck.

That brings up another issue, the perception of value. Most Quebeckers don’t get it. Canadians in general typically spend less on food than in other developed countries. Having being brought up on industrial food, we have a skewed notion of what real food costs, thinking that organic and artisanal products are expensive and elitist, that the less we spend on food, the more sensible we are. We generally prefer to spend a larger percentage of our income on Ipods, satellite dishes, nice homes and cars, fashionable clothes or spa treatments. We choose fast food over a fine meal more often. And when we go out to dinner, we go to bistros or steakhouses, some good, some not so good, we aren’t all that selective.

The truth is that a restaurant like les Chevres or Anise cooks with quality ingredients from small local producers, they cook à la minute and artfully, in a way that requires a number of talented, qualified cooks whom they also need to pay a fair wage. They use modern design, fine linens and table ware; they have wine cellars and sommeliers, they serve amuse bouches and mignardises, and hand out keep-sake menus for you to take home, all extras, details to enhance your dining experience. All this costs money, so evidently this type of operation has higher costs, and a lower profit margin than your average restaurant. The prices are high, but relatively speaking, they aren’t.

No matter, unless you see and value that difference, you will only find it expensive. If you know the difference between mass produced New Zealand lamb and Quebec lamb from a small producer, and you can tell a local heirloom tomato grown organically with creativity and care, from a plastic-looking one shipped from miles away, you will find value there. North American tastes are evolving, and Quebeckers have always led the way, priding themselves in their appreciative, discerning palates, yet it doesn’t seem that all that many of us are tasting the difference, or caring about it enough to select it. Some people clearly care more about other things like quantity or show, pretty waitresses, or loud music.

Certainly, the trend is away from formal fine dining, favouring more casual places that still put out good food. Most of us are eating out more often, but choosing to go around the corner to a neighbourhood restaurant for a steak-frites or big salad and a glass of wine a few times a month, rather than out for a tasting menu once a month. I’m one of them. But I also know that I rarely get to taste the best in a bistro. They might be able to pass on some savings by not having crisp linens and Riedels, by serving simpler food with less staff and serving more booze, but it’s not always something you see on the plate.   

Although the quality of bistro fare has been steadily rising, still few match the level of cooking of the two restaurants mentioned above, in terms of finesse, integrity and talent. Despite all the talk of terroir, even fewer are actually supporting small, local artisanal producers across the board. Chefs can't charge enough to serve the quality or pay their employees what they would like to. The ones that do well necessarily have tight management, but also have some way of subsidizing the high costs, either with a sister business, or by doing high volume (which makes quality difficult), or skimping on quality, or they cheat in some way. The fact is that without a bit of luck and boundless strength, it is increasingly difficult for high end restaurants who do things right to survive, no matter how hard they work day in day out. And for that reason, I can’t help but get a little mad when I hear people loosely criticize one of these restaurateurs, or judge them when the going gets tough.

Back to my meal at Anise.. I still feel guilty for not having been sooner because if food fanatics like me aren’t going, then I can’t help but wonder what chance fine dining in Montreal has. I certainly value the kind of food Rasha Bassoul is putting out. The thing is, like most people, I am not rich, although I do spend a disproportionate amount of my income on food and wine. And like most Quebeckers, on my nights off, I generally crave casual comfort, no fuss.  When I did feel like dressing up, I couldn’t find someone to go with.. This was a ‘couples’ place, too formal, too expensive, too fancy or too subdued for most of my friends.. More accessible places won out, and the years went by, other new and exciting restaurants opened, I got distracted.

When the dinner finally happened, it was fabulous. Not mind blowing, but solid, and even after one visit, I can assure you that Anise is deserving of all the accolades. She definitely has a unique, refined style. The food is elegant, flavour forward, with all the musts of an haute cuisine carte (foie gras, oysters, lobster, lamb..) all done in an original way with Middle Eastern accents and an exotic touch, rich with fragrant spices and floral aromas. I found some bites surprising; it was refreshing to taste something new.  For example, I was thrown off by the absence of sauces, I'm a sauce girl you see, but this is not a criticism, because nothing was lacking, it was just different.  The seasoning was always there, and nothing was dry due to juice enhancing techniques like crepinette or moist accompaniements like purées.  The setting is serene and luxurious, but in an understated, feminine way. Her good taste is obvious in the décor, the custom designed plates, the beautiful bathroom, the menu, the many details. I hardly want to judge the service or anything too severely on Valentine’s Day when everyone is in the juice, but I will say that it was professional and pleasant, if a tad on the stiff side (as in European), and the wine pairing was excellent.

All in all, our dinner at Anise was a treat, not to mention a big chunk of my weekly salary, but without hesitation, worth it, and I recommend it highly. If only more Montrealers could share another taste of Racha Bassoul and the exquisite, unique contribution she has made to our culinary landscape. It is not good for anyone that this gem of a restaurant is closing.

Restaurant Anise, 104 Laurier O., Montreal  514-276-6999

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.

Welcome the snow and bring on the soup. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So here are my tips.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Leek soup

4 L

½ onion, chopped

1 stalk celery, minced

3 leeks, sliced

3 cloves garlic, minced

1c white wine

1 tsp thyme

3 L chicken or vegetable stock

2 potatoes, peeled and chopped

1 c cream

2 Tbsp fresh dill

s.q. salt, pepper

s.q. lemon

2 Tbsp olive oil

1 Tbsp butter

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

Garnish with:

Fresh herbs like chives or parsley or dill.

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

Stewed leeks.

Truffle oil.

Bacon.

Squash soup

4 L

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

1 onion, minced

2 carrots, minced

1 stalk celery, minced

2 tsp minced garlic

2 tsp minced ginger

pinch curry powder

pinch chili

1 c cider or white wine

2 L chicken stock

2 c milk

2 Tbsp maple syrup

1 Tbsp lemon juice

s.q. salt

1 Tbsp butter

s.q. olive oil

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

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

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

Garnishes:

Crisp squash and fresh herbs.

Cooked bacon, ham or smoked duck.

Soft goat cheese or parm.

Mushrooms or mushroom oil.

Toasted coconut and sesame oil, coriander or basil.

Garlic Soup

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

4 L

1 leek or onion, chopped

30 garlic cloves (5 bulbs)

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

2 c white wine or sherry

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

1 tsp thyme

½ tsp rosemary or sage

2 c dried bread cubes or cubed potato

1 c cream

s.q. tabasco, worcestershire

s.q. lemon

s.q. salt, pepper

s.q. water

pinch nutmeg

s.q. olive oil

s.q. butter

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

Garnishes:

Chorizo. Or any sausage.

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

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

Caramelized onions.

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

11-8-2006

What else can I write about this week but mushrooms? Being smack in the middle of our monumental wild mushroom extravaganza, I can’t think about anything else. Besides, if I don’t talk about them now, I certainly won’t for a while given that I will be pretty shroomed out after this, I reckon.

With close to twenty kinds of wild mushrooms on the menu, I have been cleaning and freezing and drying, pulverizing and cooking all kinds of mushrooms, all kinds of ways, day in, day out, for weeks now for this event, with another week to go.

This event has become a big draw, be it for mushroom lovers and gastronomes, people who know many wild varieties but don’t have access to them all, or for people who know less but are curious, and want to learn. There is something generally intoxicating about mushrooms I think, due to their sweet, deep, earthy aromas, but also because some are literally so, and we all know they can be deadly. Many people see different mushrooms growing in their backyard and wonder whether they can eat them, but don’t dare to; we give them that chance. To visualize the mushrooms we are using, you can go to his website (www.jardinssauvages.com) and click on the mushroom words on the French menu, and a picture of the mushroom pops up.

I always loved mushrooms; it was probably my first vegetable love affair, besides maybe pickles, if that counts. The first dish I ever cooked on my own was a mushroom dish, around the age of 7 or so, I needed to stand on a chair. I sautéed up some mushrooms with margarine (?!) and finished with soy sauce. This is still one of my favorite dishes only fancied up, using wild mushrooms, tamari and real butter, a splash of fine sherry vinegar, black pepper. It’s funny, because although I was always a passionate eater, I did not develop any culinary aspirations until my twenties. However, at an early age, I was particular about what I ate, refusing to eat much of what my Mom cooked, I was one to take charge, and I liked mushrooms.

I have been seduced with mushrooms more than once. I think a part of me lit up the first time I tasted porcini. I remember the day. Same with black trumpets, they still make me swoon, I think they are the sexiest mushroom. Yes, even more than truffles.

Mushrooms played an important role in my courtship with François as well. I was at l’Eau à la Bouche and mushroom fever was just taking hold of me. I was being introduced to new varieties, foragers would come to the back door, and we cooks would go out and pick some ourselves and then dare eachother to eat them. I took a beginners’ course that year. Then François des bois came along with wilder varieties, and his eye on me. We started dating several mushrooms later, and soon after, he managed to get into my house to cook me up a couple of Amanites des Cesars, a rare type considered one of the most noble by the French. In those early days, he would leave baskets of assorted wild mushrooms on my doorstep when he was in Ste-Adèle and I was at work. Some people woo with flowers; with me, mushrooms worked just as well.

A month or two later, when we were officially dating, a paper bag of boletus showed up on my doorstep one morning... That day, I ate breakfast. An omelet with special mushrooms makes for an exquisite start to a day for sure. The thing is, the next time I spoke with François, I graciously thanked him for the nice treat, only to have him respond in shock, even hostility. You see, it had not been him. Apparently, I had another forager/suitor. I had no idea who it could be, François was suspicious and jealous. “Who the hell else was coming to my door with mushrooms?” he demanded. I eventually found out that it was a young cook in the kitchen who either had a crush on me or was trying to suck up, get a little less flack or a better schedule... So, mushrooms started our relationship, and shortly after caused a rift, making for a rocky start.. But it didn’t take long before more mushroom experiences secured it...

Now, they’re bound to keep us together, especially since our annual mushroom event has taken on a life of its own and has become this huge thing. What would we do without them? Everywhere we go, we pick mushrooms: in the Charlevoix, in the Outaouais, in the Laurentians...It isn’t new that mushrooms dictate my schedule really; for the last few years at l’Eau, my vacation time was set according to the end of the mushroom season and our event at la Table des Jardins Sauvages.

Mushrooms are indeed big in my life, but then again, a lot of vegetables are. But because of these mushroom dinners I guess, I have become a mini mushroom diva. I was asked to write an article on boletus for Effervescence magazine, I did a mushroom event at the Pearson School of Culinary Arts, was in a mushroom article in the Gazette; all of a sudden, I’m a reference. I know how to cook, but I am no mushroom expert. I don’t need to be, I have François, my own personal forager and expert. I do like to pick a little when I don’t have to be at the stove though...

If I’m not with François, I am limited to a few of the most familiar. I started with boletus and the obvious morels, chanterelles and lobsters... Now, I can differentiate the most common of the boletus, I do mousserons, bluefoots, lactaires delicieux, puffballs, and lepiotes too. Actually, the best puffball of the season I found by tripping over it on my way to the shed for a spade, that’s hardly foraging is it? François is good at getting the oysters by climbing trees or gently knocking them down with a pole; my job is to catch them before they hit the ground.

When it comes to foraging for wild mushrooms, you need to consult not one book, but several. None seem to be complete, and there are toxic mushrooms that resemble good ones. Going with someone knowledgable is a big help. Then, it just takes time and experience, always referring to the books, and your tastebuds when you’re further along. I think it is wiser to get to know a certain forest or area, discover what grows there, and stick with a variety or two that you have until you know them well. Then, you can move on to new types and new spots. Unless you’re crazy adventurous, don’t dabble with the sketchy kinds, be leary of the prettiest ones. I don’t bother with the ugly gyromite either (like a big, deformed looking morel), which some people prize, who needs a stomach ache?

Again, I’m biased when it comes to boletus because I love them, but for beginners, they are a good way to start. That’s because they are easy to identify and never dangerous. Well, there is one toxic variety but it doesn’t grow here. Of the hundred or so varieties, there are some that are of no culinary interest, others are bitter, but there are 20 odd delicious ones. They usually have a yellow-brownish cap, they have that stereotypical mushroom shape, and under the cap there is a sponge that when you look closely, is really a bunch of little upright tubes, as opposed to the horizontal gills of most other species. They are great fresh in soups and sauces, and even better dried, because all kinds of new aromas develop, reminicent of vanilla, cherries, coconut, chocolate, almonds... depending on the type. People are skeptical, but once you take a sniff in our jars, it is easy to see that it is not a stretch.

Anyone who knows wild mushrooms knows how delicious they can be, but also how elusive they are. Not only is properly identifying them daunting, but finding them is another story. They are hardly predictable. When you have a good spot, it will likely provide year after year, but only under the right conditions, and who knows when. Mushroom hunters are notoriously passionate and persistent, as if they are biten by a bug, revisiting their locations, seeking out new ones, only satisfied by a substancial find. Good spots are coveted, and often kept secret.

I’ve been let in on some of François’ spots, but he’s not worried, I had morels on my front lawn and didn’t even see them. Over the years, I have developed my eagle eye somewhat, but I’m still no hawk. I’m better, but I am only effective one variety at a time. When I’m in mousseron mode, I see them all and pick them at lightening speed. Then I move into bluefoot mode, and collect a whole bunch. Ok, I won’t miss a bright red lobster mushroom underfoot, and I always see the boletus (my favorite), but I easily miss the oysters (I don’t notice much above my field of vision) or others I’m not focused on finding. It doesn’t help that I’m not good at identifying the different kinds of trees, which is an important part of mushroom gathering.

As you can see, it is a complicated business. So, as long as I have a constant supply, my priority will be cooking them. For the firmer varieties like porcini or matsutake or chanterelles, my favorite way is freshly sautéed. Some of the softer varieties, like most of the boletus, are much better dried. That’s why you don’t see them fresh in stores, they are too perishable. You will find them in specialty stores, even some supermarkets. I use them to beef up stocks or sauces (they can do wonders for vegetarian dishes), to aromatize soups, or to infuse in milk for scalloped potatoes or ice cream or flan preparations. We make them into powder and use this “mushroom flour” in crusts for scallops or poultry, or in desserts, you just add them in with the dry ingredients. You don’t need much. A tablespoon (5g) will flavor a small batch of cookie dough or crust. In savory preparations, calculate ¼ the fresh weight of mushrooms you would use. 10-15g of dried mushrooms will nicely flavor a broth, soup or sauce. You just rehydrate by pouring boiling water over top, allow them to soften, drain, and add to your recipe, decanting the soaking liquid, which you can also use.

François is putting a fragrant boletus oil (and mustard) on the market this year, the first of its kind in Québec. You use it like truffle oil, although it is less potent, and so more versatile. There are porcini oils on the market from Italy, but so far I have not tasted one that is made with real mushrooms that is this good. This oil will be a great addition to any cook’s repertoire, even if all you cook is eggs.

There is so much to do with mushrooms. They go great with just about anything, the milder varieties with seafood, poultry, artichokes and cheese, the stronger varieties with tomatoes, eggplant, root vegetables, game and meat. They can be used in compound butters, spreads, salads, casseroles, pasta or rice dishes, as accompaniments, or in sauces for meats. Yet, I hardly feel like going into too much more detail about how to cook mushrooms. Just use a hot pan and enough oil, finish with butter. Don’t wash them (just wipe clean) unless they are very dirty. Make sure to cook any wild mushrooms through. When using dried, keep the soaking liquid and leave the dirt behind. There are more tips in the Gazoo article, and I have included some recipes here too for those interested (see the Recipes section).

I encourage you all to get out there and explore the world of mushrooms, sample the varieties available to you at the market. There are some tasty cultivated ‘wild’ mushrooms being produced in Québec, like the oyster, King oyster, shitake and fairy ring. They are more delicate and more one dimensional than real wild mushrooms, but still delicious, just different. Incorporate dried mushrooms into your cooking; treat them like a vanilla pod or a bay leaf that you can leave in or take out, to infuse in your soups, sauces or stews. They provide meatiness and complexity. Fresh wild mushrooms are more difficult to find and you have to pay the price. But when you can get your hands on some, they are well worth it, a world away and above cultivated mushrooms, not that there is anything wrong with regular mushrooms either. All mushrooms are good.

Mushroom Boom (article in the Gazette on Wednesday Nov.8, 2006)http://www.canada.com/montrealgazette/news/arts/story.html?id=3be34077-2932-4909-88a1-c4320c5eb5e2&k=5279

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.

The tug of war

10-22-06

I’m brainstorming for a holiday menu I need to submit to a client who wants « la totale », which by the way, is a chef’s dream.. where the sky is the limit, you can use whatever ingredients you want. This is rare, and so writing this kind of menu is extremely fun;I decide to make a night of it, well until “Tout le monde en parle” starts anyway. I sit down with a glass of wine, and some seaweed “caviar” canapés (actually just sesame rice crackers with sour cream, scallions, and my faux caviar). All of a sudden, I know I have to get me some real caviar this Christmas season, a 2 or 4 oz jar, half for the client, half for me. It has been ages, and I’m afraid I might not have the chance again.

Caviar is becoming even more rare a treat because the Russian and Iranian sturgeon stocks (where authentic beluga, ossetra or sevruga caviar comes from) are so low, that it is not far from being banned, and in that light, very hard to justify. Especially that I have been riding the food ethics bandwagon, it was virtually off my list, out of my life, probably forever I thought. Not that I can really afford it anyway, but I also knew there were other options. Sturgeon is being farmed here in North America, and there is now pretty decent American and Quebec Abitibi caviar on the market. Besides, there are so many exquisite foodstuffs out there to cook with, what’s the big deal, right?

But the fact is the minute I realize that something is forbidden, or will be cut off absolutely, I almost suddenly panick, and urgently desire it. It is a reflex, I can’t help it.

Since reading a few eco-food books this year, I have become more concsious and have been making an effort to be more socially and ecologically responsible as a consumer. I never leave home without my canvas bags, I buy local, often organic and avoid industrially produced food, I stay away from unsustainable fish, and I buy fair trade coffee. But I also love veal, and I love shrimp, both no-nos. I will never be a radical activist; I want to keep the joie de vivre in my life. However, I do want to do my part, and I know that if I continue the path I’m on, my days of enjoying them are numbered. I already eat them less than I did before knowledge killed the fun. But as time passes, and the threat of real separation from these precious things approaches, even if it is self-imposed, I am finding it harder and harder.

Hence the panic attacks, the backlash. The last time I was in an Italian restaurant, I ordered veal. This week, when my boyfriend asked me to make a big salad with shrimp and lots of stuff the way he likes it, instead of sensibly coaxing him with something equally appetizing, I went out and bought a whack of shrimp. I read all the labels, but of course there wasn’t anything from North America (a sounder choice because it is more regulated here than in Thailand or Mexico, for instance). As I perused the display case, I couldn’t stop thinking how annoying it was that I should have to feel guilty for making a home cooked meal, and that I might have to give up shrimp, and an easy way of pleasing the boyfriend. For a second, I’m furious, and fuelled by the voices of advocates from the books I’m reading these days, I want to go make a fuss, to blast the grocer, or nicely ask them to buy and stock their shelfs more responsibly. Charge, I’ll tell him or her, some people will pay, just give us a choice! But of course, it’s Sunday, there is no one at the fish counter, there are three employees in the entire supermarket, all of whom appear to be under twenty, and the lines at the cash are alleys long with impatient customers. It is obviously not the time to bring up the issue of sustainable fishing. I grab the bag of shrimp and take my place in line, feeling guilty, but more determined to eat these shrimp than ever.

This is the childish behavior of an addict, or of a spoiled brat, isn’t it? It’s not even that I’m addicted to shrimp either. But I guess I am addicted to good food, and spoiled in that I can usually get or make something I’m craving, if not today, then soon enough. And I don’t like being told what to do, even by myself. Yes, I’m indulgent, but being from a modest background, and a family of ten, it is nonetheless ingrained in me to be somewhat moderate and thankful. Most days, I think how lucky I am to have three meals a day, and to have the life I do. At my best, I am very rational, and a good person you see. But at my weakest, I am a big baby, a stubborn glutton, and an anarchist.

I never liked rules when it came to food; I’ve never dieted, so this is all new to me. However, my new internal food battles do remind me of cigarette smoking. In this case, I am an addict. As the tabacco laws tighten, and smoking becomes less acceptable, not to mention the fact that I am getting carded all the time now, it is becoming increasingly difficult to smoke in peace. The more people tell me I shouldn’t smoke, the more I want to. I don’t know if it is that I’ve let the physical addiction manipulate me or if it is just my rebellious nature. Like with the caviar, or the veal, my desire grows with the prospect of being deprived of something dear in the future. So, I keep enjoying my cigarette or my shrimp like they’re my last, but I keep doing it, putting off the real break up to a later date.

I know how straightforward it is to understand what’s going on and that all I have to do is to make more disciplined efforts to do right. But for me, it is a huge struggle. This irrational reflex must be a deep-rooted evolutionary trait that was once crucial to survival, now it is just misplaced, an obstacle to enlightened living, which I will obviously never be good at. The battle between my lower, primitive animal brain, and my higher, intelligent human brain that knows better, is omnipresent in my life, I know I’m not alone. This duality is common to all of us human beings, as dieters all over and men trying not to cheat on their wives will attest. Things would be easier if I hadn’t tasted the good life, I should have become a nun, and spent my time meditating and making cheese. Maybe I’m too much of a free spirit; too in tune with my kid self or my animal self for a serious, thinking, moral adult. I do try to keep them in balance, but some days, one wins out over the other. And I keep hoping that I will grow up and that things will get easier. But for now, blah, I don’t want to read or think anymore until Christmas when I will have my caviar, how yummy it will be... and then that will be it. That’s what New Year’s resolutions are for... maybe I’ll even quit smoking.

More harvest talk

2006-10-05

Nancy Hinton (Food writing 2006)

All the summer stuff is now gone, the autumn vegetables are in full swing, there are some late season strawberries, but basically, the end is really drawing near. It’s time to stock up. I feel the pressure, but it’s hard to find the time. This is my favorite time of year: the market still abundant, the sunny days, the crisp nights, the leaves turning, I always want to celebrate Thanksgiving fully, hold a big feast with friends, yes turkey, but all kinds of stuff, and lots of wine. But somehow, in the restaurant business, in no matter what function, this is always a busy time of year. Maybe one day .

Ok, so the parties and campfires will have to wait, but I do have to put some stuff up no matter what. I did jar some tomato sauce, some ratatouille, some hot pepper sauce, some salted herbs. I even shaved the kernels off ears of corn, froze the kernels, and the naked ears (for broth); I needed to extend the corn season a little.

Now, it’s the mushrooms that are coming in. François is out picking, he’s so good. When everyone is saying there is nothing out there, in one morning, he comes back with baskets full of lepiotes, wild oyster mushrooms, lactaires délicieux, coprins, blue foots... It’s turning out to be a not bad fall mushroom season. Some varieties didn’t bloom, others came out in full force, but rotted immediately – too much rain and heat. So, we missed out on the late season cepes and the puffballs, but the blue foots and some of the later bolets are still promising.

With the mushrooms, we do all kind of things to preserve them for the year. Some we freeze IQF (flash frozen individually), others we dry and make powders, and some we transform right away to make glazes, pickles, soups, sauces, flavored oil, and butter.

When the winter squash come in, we keep some in a cool spot for cooking, the rest get washed with soap and water, and are put out for decoration. Others go into storage for cooking at a later date, say January or Febuary, when anything good is scarce. This way, they will keep for monthes, even ‘til next season, but once spring comes round, we’re all sick of squash, hard to believe now.

We’re also stocking up on local onions, celery, nantaise carrots (the sweet stubby ones), garlic, all the root vegetables.... Keep them in a cool place and you’re better off than buying the same thing from supermarkets, or imported stuff.

Tis the season to revel in the abundance, to cook up a storm, but also to think about the winter ahead and stock up. There is nothing more rewarding and soulful than eating your own preserves in the heart of winter. I don’t want the season to end, but I’m almost looking forward to those cold, sparse monthes inorder to appreciate all the hard work of today.

Salted herbs

4 L (8x500ml mason jars)

1 Leek

4 Carrots

3 Parsnips

4 ribs celery

4c Spinach

1 small bulb Fennel

2 bunches Parsley

2 bunches Basil

1 bunch Dill

1 bunch Thyme

1 bunch Rosemary

1 Tbsp Black pepper

2 Tbsp Fennel seed

2 Tbsp Coriander seed

1 tsp All spice

1 Tbsp Juniper berry

Lemon zest (from 2 lemons)

2 c Salt

Dice vegetables very finely. Chop herbs. Grind spices. Grate lemon zest. Mix well all together and layer with salt, store in airtight containers in fridge. Can (in mason jars in boiling water) to keep longer than a month.

Birth of a blog, and Tomatoes

2006-09-30

So this it it . Finally, I start this blog. Its been brewing for ages, and I can’t wait any longer, for better or for worse.

And, no, its not about soup. I’m “soupnancy” because the label is old enough that it stuck. It came from my years at the Tavern, when I was making 30 litres of soup a day, all kinds. People liked my soup, and I also happened to be somewhat of a tyrant in the kitchen. So when the Seinfeld Soup Nazi episode aired, it wasn’t long before my nickname was coined. I still love soup, but there’s much more on my mind today. I just couldn’t think of anything else to call my blog.

My blog will be about food, cooking, and I whatever I feel like writing about; there’s no real agenda

Today, its tomatoes .

It is harvest season, tomatoes and everything else is in abundance, but the days are numbered. Of all the fruits and vegetables, tomatoes are the hardest to let go for me. I feel an urgency to take full advantage of the last of the season, so I’m doing my tomato dance, cooking up a storm, canning, and savoring every last, fresh taste. Sure, we have hothouse varieties off season that are getting better every year, as well as a reliable supply of good canned tomatoes year round, but its not the same. I’m allowed to make a deal about late summer tomatoes.

I love tomatoes because they seem to have it all. Mainly, they are lively and sweet. I appreciate acidity in food, in wine (and in sourpatch kids). Like most North Americans, I like sweet too. I love vegetables more than any other food group (ya, ya, I know it’s a fruit, but that’s botanist talk). So, obviously, I like that vegetal taste that wine people talk about, which is very present in tomatoes. Of course, I love salt and pepper too, and I can’t think of another place where they shine so brightly.

A perfectly ripe tomato has it all in balance: fresh acidity, sweet juiciness, fleshy meatiness. Tomatoes are great on their own, raw or cooked, and almost everything goes with tomato. Oh, and its great for you; it is an anti-oxidant with its anthocyanins, lycopene, its good dose of Vitamin C; it also provides minerals, like potassium and the all important fibre.

Long cooked tomatoes bring body and umami (glutamate, ie. yumminess) to a preparation, they also add color to stocks and stews. They refresh the palate in cassoulet, they form the base of many sauces we couldn’t live without (ketchup, cocktail sauce, bbq sauce, salsa, spaghetti sauce... ) Even in cocktails, how about a delicious bloody caesar at a 5 à 7? Physically, they are a beauty to behold. Artists paint them, they adorn tablecloths, wall paper, tapestries and aprons. They pretty up salads and buffets, we put them in bowls on our dining tables for a centerpiece. They once garnished breakfast plates across the land, which made perfect sense by the way, tomatoes being the ideal condiment for an egg. I don’t know how they got bumped off by the ubiquitous orange slice in today’s restaurants, and I could strangle whoever is responsible. Anyway.

With all these qualities, I don’t understand how anyone wouldn’t love tomatoes. Its not like they give you gas or get stuck in your teeth, allergic reactions aren’t common. Yet I do know a guy who hates them, actually I dated him. I guess no one is perfect. But it’s strange, he is open-minded, has a good palate, eats just about everything else, but he doesn’t get tomatoes. Otherwise he is a fine fellow, pretty normal. He does grow them, and will eat them cooked, maybe there is hope for him yet.

In my tomato life, a climax certainly was meeting Jerome Plante, whom many now know for his heirloom varieties. I worked with him at L’Eau à la Bouche where we were privelaged to serve his tomatoes in a myriad of ways. A big hit was the tomato salad with watercress, truffle, and sheep’s milk cheese. Every week was a different treat, we couldn’t keep all the kinds straight.....Brandywine, beefsteak, zebra, ...even these mini wild tomatoes, they were all knock-outs. I hear that he was at Jean Talon this summer, so his fabulous tomatoes were accessible to anyone, not just select chefs.

Now, I’m mostly cooking with what comes from our own garden, or from this farmer next door named André Cormier. I might not have the same wide variety or expertise as Jerome, and I’ll surely go back to him one day if he’ll have me. But while I can, there’s something about standing amongst the vines, smelling that intoxicating, floral, green tomato aroma, watching them ripen, while swatting at flies and picking them myself. I let them sit on the counter a day to ripen, and so that I can admire them everytime I walk by. Then it’s time to eat or cook them up.

Over the years, I’ve used tomatoes ten zillion ways: in confit, in terrine, tomato gelée, tomato sorbet, tomato foam, you name it. Nowadays, I couldn’t be bothered. My favorite ways with tomatoes are the simplest: in a sandwich or salad, in fresh salsa, in a quick cooked tomato sauce, in ratatouille or chutney, fresh and fast-cooked with mussels, clams or oysters. I also really like them roasted or provençale, that old classic with breadcrumbs on top that I once dismissed as boring.

My favorite ways with tomatoes

Tomato salad with crinkleroot oil, smoked sea salt and greens, maybe some cheese or a poached egg to take it up a notch.

-Slice tomatoes, drizzle them with some good olive oil. I use crinkleroot oil (wild horseradish) for its arugula like bite. Sprinkle on some sea salt and freshly cracked black pepper, a few chili flakes. Dress the greens the same, but with restraint, adding a splash of a good vinegar like balsamic or sherry. Add some fresh mozzarella or some Reggiano, any good cheese. If I want to make it more substancial, I’ll add a poached egg or some garlic toast, some smoked duck or some lardons.

Fresh tomato salsa, “tortilla soup”, and gaspacho

-Halve and seed tomatoes, squeezing out excess juice, and dice. Add some minced shallot, some freshly chopped coriander, a squeeze of lime and/or red wine vinegar, salt, chili, pure or in the form of tabasco, some olive oil. You might want to add a pinch of sugar depending on your tomatoes.

-When I’m alone, I don’t seed or juice them. It makes for watery salsa, but when I’m done, I have this tasty liquid into which I like to dump all the bits of chips from the bottom of the bowl to make “tortilla soup”. It makes a snack into a meal, perfect for midnight after a shift, in front of the TV.

Fresh tomato sauce

-Generally, I prefer a quick cooked tomato sauce, that has that fresh tomato taste, with lots of olive oil. Sometimes, I’ll pump up the mirepoix (vegetable) ratio, add wine, more seasoning, and cook it longer, if I want something more complex, or if I’m adding meat.

-In any case, start by sweating some onions. I usually add a bit of minced carrot and celery, some red pepper. Then garlic, a touch of white wine, good vinegar or lemon juice. Then the spices. I use chili, fennel seed, thyme and oregano. Then go in the tomatoes. Canned is fine, although I usually use half canned, half fresh. If you don’t like skin, then blanch and peel your tomatoes, seed them if you want. You might not want to use all the juice, especially if you won’t be cooking it long. Stick in a bay leaf, even a cinnamon stick if you’re feeling adventurous (particulary good with a pork based sauce). Simmer for 30 min or 1 hour, longer if you’re doing a big batch. Pull out the aromats, douse with a good measure of good olive oil, salt and pepper, and blend.

-With this base, you can play around.....

-add anchovy, olives and capres

-add bacon and mushrooms, (and cream or not)

-add beans, extra peppers and pork or not, spices (cumin, chili, oregano, thyme, cinnamon)

-add curry, yogurt, shrimp or chicken, coriander and coconut

-add tarragon, lemon and cream for mussels, any seafood or chicken

Roast tomatoes as a topping for fish, pasta, even meat

-Halve tomatoes (preferably Roma), toss with olive oil, garlic cloves, herbs of choice, and roast on a baking tray at 400F for 30 minutes. Pull out, peel off the skins if you want, and serve along with the pan juices to dress up fish, meat, pasta or eggs.

-You can do this over a very low heat (160-200F) for hours, and then you have confit, use in the same way.

Ratatouille

-Degorge (slice and salt) your eggplant for at least half an hour. Wipe dry.

Dice up all your vegetables ( 1 onion, 1 eggplant, 2 zucchini, 1-2 red pepper). Mince up 1 celery stick, a couple of cloves of garlic.

-In your big pot, sweat an onion, add a little minced celery, one or two diced bell peppers. Then goes in some minced garlic, some chili flakes, some cumin seeds, maybe some fennel seeds, some thyme, a little rosemary. Deglaze with a ½ cup or so of red wine, and a good shot of red wine vinegar.

-On the side, in a frying pan, saute your eggplant in a good measure of olive oil, toss into big pot. Sauté zucchini in more olive oil, and add to ratatouille. Add a good pinch of salt, sugar and pepper, and allow to simmer for 30min-1 hour. Throw in some fresh basil, and rectify seasoning.

-serve hot or cold, with couscous, pasta, lamb, sausage, eggs or poultry... anything

Peanuts

2006-09-10

Nancy Hinton (Food writing 2006)

I’m in a peanut state of mind. I regularly go through love-in phases with various foodstuffs, often in synch with the seasons, sometimes just out of the blue. These days I’m nuts about peanuts. I am constantly craving them as a snack, and feeling very inspired to incorporate them into my cooking.

I grew up on peanut butter, but somewhere amidst all the excitement of my teen age years, I forgot about it. I rediscovered peanuts around 1994 when satay was all the rage. One day, I was making satay sauce, and started dipping into the peanut butter; I fell in love all over again. Wow, so good.....the memories flooded back.

Me and peanuts go back a long way. Beyond the peanut butter sandwiches in my lunchbox, BBQ peanuts were one of my favorite things as a kid. I always brought a stash with me to summer camp to make up for the terrible food there, but unfortunately soon learned that the raccoons enjoyed them as much as me. I spent much time and energy plotting and scheming to keep my sacred peanuts away from my new enemies. I would leave the less interesting bits from my care package, such as granola bars, lying about, but would wrap my peanuts in layers of bags, inside boxes, hidden in a locked suitcase, and tied to the roof of the tent. The damn buggers still managed to get to them, always leaving the blasted granola bars untouched, arg!

Blast ahead a decade or so, and its the 90’s , I’m being influenced by the “fusion” trend, I go on to dabble in different ethnic cuisines, and uncovered new ways to cook with peanuts. How fantastic they were toasted in a Thai salad, how fine a marriage they made with shrimp, chilies and coriander, how fabulously strange they were in African peanut soup... our relationship grew. But there would be a break-up down the road.

You see, around the same time, peanuts were slowly being shunned from the modern kitchen as the frequency of deadly allergies mounted. No matter that peanut oil made the best fries, actually the crispiest fried anything, it had to go. For years, I fried in canola oil, and now way past the peanut, I drizzled cold-pressed walnut oil or hazelnut oil into my preparations.

Until very recently, I had forgotten how delicious toasted peanut oil is on a green that can stand up to it, with a squeeze of lime or a splash of sherry vinegar. Now that just as many other allergies are a part of the game, and the peanut is not the only villain, I guess we can invite them back into the kitchen, albeit with a little caution.

And that is a good thing. Peanuts are nutritious, packing a good amount of protein, good unsaturated fat, .....

In fact, peanuts are a legume.....

And just plain addictive.

The other day, deep in the middle of my peanut rage, I happened to be in a long line at Canadian Tire when a peanut craving struck, and lo and behold, there they were, little packets of Planters next to the lighters and keychains for 99 cents. Before the thought that I don’t trust big food manufacturers registered, I had already gobbled them down. When my brain caught up, still in line, I got to reading the label, whoa! Since when did peanuts need so much help? There were 20 odd additives present, this and that, I suppose to keep them crunchy, keep them from going rancid, pump up their umami, who knows.....

Ingredients: Peanuts, salt, potato starch, sugar, monosodium glutamate, tapioca dextrose, autolyzed yeast, cornstarch, spices, hydrolyzed plant (soy) protein, smoke flavor, hydrogenated soybean oil, onion powder, garlic powder, monoglycerides, BHT, BHA, propyl gallate, citric acid, tri-calcium phosphate, (may contain other nut types).

Outrageous! You don’t need all that crap if they’re fresh, only a bit of heat, a bit of salt..... Au naturel en vrac at Ahkavan or from a health food store, that’s the way to go. But honestly, do go ahead, and try them again – you’ll see.

Wild foods

By Nancy Hinton (Food writing 2006)

Wild foods are local, regional, seasonal (all the modern buzz words), and a part of our culinary heritage. There is a movement towards rediscovering old heirloom varieties of fruit and vegetables, niche markets are emerging for artisanal products, everything organic. You would think that wild food would be a natural step in our search for local products to endorse, and in our quest for new tastes and ideas. So, why is Toqué the only restaurant in Montreal where you might come across sea spinach or baies d’églantiers? Why aren’t we exploiting what’s in our very own backyards?

Québecois cuisine is amidst an explosion of progress, coming into its own. Chefs are experimenting with all kinds of new products and techniques, some have even moved into labs to push the limits further. In all our exuberent exploration, we have gone off in all directions and lost track of the past. Like with agribusiness taking the place of our traditional small farms, we have forgotten what our ancestors knew about wild foods. While busy trying to uncover every last spice or delicacy from abroad to add to our repertoire, we have neglected our culinary heritage.

There are so many indigenous wild plants that we don’t know enough to appreciate or to protect. We have loads of resources, like wild mushrooms that no one is picking. Most of the mushrooms sold to the high-end restaurants in Montreal come from Europe or out west, while tons grow here.

Besides the ubiquitous fiddleheads of spring, there are many wild plants of culinary interest. All the varieties of wild mushrooms that don’t make it to market because they’re rare or less known or too perishable, for example. All the sprouts (adder’s leaf, orach, chickweed, purselane, live-forever, stinging nettle) and herbs (mint, chives, lovage.....) are more. There are baby bull rushes that you peel and crumble to make a flour that tastes like corn. There are the roots like wild ginger which has a super intoxicating Thrill’s gum-like aroma that is addictive, crinkleroot (wild horseradish) which tastes like arugula and peanut mixed, and of course, the delicious wild garlic bulbs and leaves with their complex, floral garlic flavor. There is labrador tea, and wintergreen leaves and berries, great both in the savory and sweet kitchen. Then, there are all the flower petals, flowerbuds, and wild berries like elderberry, bake-apple, partridge berry, squashberry...... And these are just some of my favorites.

When I first came across some of these things at l’Eau à la Bouche, I was enchanted, curious about all the possibilities. When the novelty wore off in my exploration, I gained perspective, and discarded those plants that were too bitter, or so subtle that they had nothing unique to offer. Afterall, I wasn’t stuck in the woods with nothing else to eat. With all the good ingredients at our fingertips these days, we chefs can afford to be selective. I am selective, but now that I’ve gotten to know these wild ingredients, I love them, and they will be a part of my repertoire forever, as long as I can find them.

That’s what worries me. Well, luckily, I have my François des bois, but what about everyone else? I wish more people could appreciate this wholesome source of food. But a part from picking the weeds in our backyards, sourcing out these indigenous plants is not easy. There aren’t many people in the business, its a tricky business because the people involved are always at the mercy of nature, and a there’s a whole mess of obstacles between the supply and the chef, especially in the city.

One of the problems is that wild plants are less predictable, less easy to acquire and deal with than cultivated crops. That makes it hard for pickers to work with chefs, and for chefs to plan their menus. Most suppliers and chefs won’t bother. Another problem is the lack of pickers, as on traditional farms.

Most important is the lack of knowledge of wild plants, or the rampant misinformation. It is not in our tradition to know much about mushrooms say as it is with Europeans, and even with plants that have more of a history here, the knowledge has slowly been lost from generation to generation. So people don’t know enough about what’s good and what’s not, inorder to look for it, want it, let alone want to pick it for a living.

Another issue is the danger inherent in a lack of knowledge and training. People are leary of wild plants, and for good reason, since the wrong plant, the wrong picking location or method of preparation can indeed cause gastric pain or poisoning. There are some books out there, but without hands on experience, it can be an adventure at best.

François Brouillard, aka François des bois is someone that grew up with foraging, he learnt it from his grandmother. He also read all the books, spent a lot of time in the woods, and survived a few stomach aches, certainly. Afterwards, he spent over ten years trying to make a living supplying restaurants, recruiting and training pickers, educating and proudly selling wild plants to a public that wasn’t ready.

A major set back for chefs and foragers is the lack of regulation. Careless pickers out to make a buck put sub-standard produce on the market leaving a bad impression on chefs trying some for the first time. Often these hacks don’t last, come in with a big batch, and collapse the prices, making it impossible for people who pick properly and respect the environment to compete. If you go further out (to unpolluted areas), pick just the tender tip, leave the root intact, and rotate land so as to be sustainable, you will inevitably have to charge more. But when buyers don’t know the product, they are skeptical about paying a fair price, and they are more likely to be duped, and ultimately disappointed. Even though fiddleheads are common, still many overly mature, polluted fiddleheads appear on the market every year; people don’t know to beware of low prices.

Moreover, there’s a disconnect between the botanists and beaurocrats working for the government, and the people with hands on experience like François. They need to team up somehow to provide a sensible framework for operation, standards for picking, picking permits, and zoning. There was a grassroots organization that people in the industry set up on their own with guidelines and collective goals, which was effective to a certain degree in the beginning, but has gotten bogged down by a conflict of private interests, low participation and has since become irrelevant.

As with projects like the Desjardins report’s reccomendations to the government for standardization and regulations in labelling local products with a Quebecois “appelations controlée” system, big change is complicated, it takes time and requires funding. Without much public interest, the government will not spend money there on research, documentation, or inspectors. But if people knew what they were missing out on, I think it might be different.

A cause that François holds close to his heart is the government’s banning of wild plants on the basis of endangerment, while every year, more acres of land rich in all these wild plants are being bull-dozed to make way for highways, superstores and condo developments. All that biodiversity, big chunks of our culinary history, are being erased just like that. François is fined if he picks the ramps they are going to destroy anyway. Ramps (wild garlic) are not illegal anywhere else by the way. Its only because Quebecois actually eat them, and ramps take a long time to reproduce. Which brings us to the issue of sustainability.

François claims (and has physically shown me) that many plants like wild ginger and crinkleroot, which the government has on the endangered list and wants to ban, have no problem reproducing if you pick them properly. In fact, they like a little trauma. They thrive if you cut off shoots, as long as you leave the root intact. It isn’t people that know how to pick like François that wipe out these plants, its the nurseries who go and rip out entire plants, root systems and all.

This just makes it obvious to me that there should be some kind of regulation, permits issued for people who respect the environment. But of course, its much easier to make a law outlawing the picking of all these plants instead of finding people to enforce proper picking and sustainability. François will have to fight for his right to continue his family’s legacy, and his livelihood.

I just find it unfortunate that before many people even find out about all these edible wild plants, they’re being wiped out, or their consumption outlawed for unneccesary reasons. They could only play a valuable role in our modern, thriving regional Quebecois cuisine.

I would not know about any of this if I hadn’t worked at L’Eau à la Bouche and dated François des bois. I feel privelaged because its made my experience as a chef richer. I want to spread the word, and I often push François to be more of a spokesperson and activist. But at the same time, I understand the difficulty of his situation. As one of the few leaders in the field, he would have to dedicate his life to educating, fighting for regulation, promoting a better understanding of wild plants, to make them them available on the market.

I understand that he belongs in the woods, not exchanging latin words with beaurocrats. I understand that being a pusher for chefs, living out of his van as he covered the province, training pickers year after year, didn’t earn him a secure living. He has been doing his part with passion and integrity for twenty odd years. He has worked with Québec’s top chefs, he’s been on numerous food shows, on the radio, in magazines, even Gourmet Magazine.

Now, all he wants to do is keep the flame alive, and do his little thing in the woods. I don’t blame him for wanting to stay put, tending to his simple woodland table, serving up his special weeds and mushrooms to people who come to him. As opposed to travelling about trying to sell something so misunderstood, and giving conferences, he’s found the woodland table to be the best way to introduce people to the wonderful world of wild food. To give it to them as a finished product with a good time at the table in a warm, bucolic setting, is more satisfying for everyone. People always leave happy, enlightened and excited. And he is doing what he likes best, sharing his passion, on a personal level. He doesn’t want to change the world. Neither do I, really. I just feel that people are in the dark about edible wild plants, and being a part of this wild world, I feel a duty to provide some scoop.

The disconnect in our food choices

by Nancy Hinton (Food writing 2006)

The disconnect between the farm and the table has skewed our perspective. I believe its why our food systems are so screwed up. Its not because we are irrational and immoral people. Its simply because most of us don’t know where are food comes from.

It doesn’t make sense to me that people are all out of sorts over foie gras and lobster, but eat mass produced chicken and eggs from caged birds with their beaks cut off, and beef from corn-fed feedlot cattle, both much more troubling in essence and scale. Its not uncommon to meet affluent, educated people who are against the seal hunt, but eat endangered tuna, wear fur coats, and shop at Walmart. I can’t imagine them getting away with such incongruent behavior in other aspects of their lives. It all comes down to the disconnect.

When you know how a cheese is made, it seems reasonable to pay the price. You would never think of ordering your green beans over the internet from a stranger when your neighbor grows beautiful green beans. Because people don’t look at a package of skinless, boneless chicken breasts and picture what its life was like, they don’t feel sorry for it. Meanwhile they see the lobster alive and kicking, and scream bloody murder when they see it put into boiling water. Or they are grossed out by the idea of an oyster, eating something alive. They may eat chicken nuggets and wieners, but protest the sale of foie gras. They buy a glossy, perfectly shaped bell pepper, ignorant (or not) to the fact that its attractive appearance is the result of pesticides, industrialized mass production and problematic monoculture. They buy lettuce that comes from miles because it looks nice and clean in its package, instead of supporting a local farmer for a fresher, more nutritious product with a bit of dirt on it. They buy something because of the convenience, the packaging, or the price, without realizing the consequences of their purchases on the environment, or that workers were underpaid for these artificially low prices.

What influences people’s food choice rationale? Taste, education, nutrition, availability, price, trends, so many factors, its a complicated picture. One thing is for sure, it appears to be a very personal thing, and there isn’t enough common sense involved.

First of all, when it comes to the living things we eat, there’s the issue of what’s morally ok to eat. Sometimes what gets the green light is based on where a certain animal or foodstuff is situated in the hierarchy on the food chain. But there often isn’t much logic at play here either. Yes to the dumb turkey, absolutely not to the cute bunny rabbit. Many argue that.there are lines easy to draw between an oyster, a fish, and a mammal based on level of consciousness. They say its the natural order of things. Others care more about how humanely the animal was raised, how it was killed, and if it is from a sustainable source. Many follow a scheme based on religion or tradition. Availability and necessity are all others people care about, the lowest price, whatever they can afford. Still others at the other end of the spectrum think its about the ability to feel pain, in which case, all living creatures are out.

However, with most omnivores, what seems more important in determining whether someone will eat something or not, beyond their ethnic origin, is how far the consumer is from the source. The less people know about where their food comes from, the less they seem to have a problem with it. Isn’t that f-ed up? You’d think it should be the opposite, for health and safety reasons if anything. With a local purchase, you can support someone who you know does things right, you are voting with your dollar, you have control that you don’t have in a mass market. Also, I think that just being close, being aware of an animal’s life and death, might make you feel better knowing it was humanely raised and so suffered the least possible. It might also make you appreciate and have more respect for the animal, as the Indians demonstrate in their rituals that thank the animal for giving them its life. If the truth unsettles a diner so much, than perhaps he/she shouldn’t be eating it in the first place, its hypocritical.

If people really knew how everything was produced, they would make very different choices, undoubtedly. Why isn’t this information more available? It takes full time food detectives like Michael Pollan to even get a glimpse of what goes on behind the scenes. Its our food supply, and we know very little about it. Its not surprising that we have so many conflicting opinions about our food.

Its a complicated affair to be fully in the know, especially in this new globalized economy with most people living in cities, far away from the farm. And with our busy lives, the many other things to think about, no one can be expected to be perfectly virtuous in their food choices. I just think people should be more informed, so that they can make their decisions based on something more than what a celebrity says or what the ads suggest. Afterall, we make food choices everyday, and they impact our bodies, our personal lives, as well as those of our neighbors, both nearby and around the globe, not to mention our eco-system and planet.

We’ve been too busy in our modern, over-taxed lives trying to be efficient in getting food on the table fast, trying new exotic ingredients from afar and buying processed food, we unconsciously let major agri-business and advertising take over, and lost track of what was going on in our backyards and supermarkets, and ultimately what’s going into our stomachs. We can reclaim control over our food supply by asking questions, following the lead of organizations like Equiterre, Slowfood, Organic growers…. and just ultimately following our palates and good sense. I encourage you to use your head people.