soupnancy

Back from NYC with a spring in my step

And a new perspective on hydrocolloids

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

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

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

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

 Nils, David and his hot poker

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Long circulating on the internet, this little fable is that much more timely..

Sent to me by Michelle Foreman,

 VOICI UNE PETITE HISTOIRE PAS SI ÉTRANGE.

Jean Boudreau a commencé la journée tôt, ayant réglé son horloge (faite au Japon) à 6 heures.
Pendant que sa cafetière (faite en Chine) filtrait le café, il s'est rasé avec son rasoir (fait à Hong-Kong).
Il s'est ensuite habillé avec sa chemise (faite au Sri Lanka), ses jeans (faits à Singapour) et ses chaussures
(faites en Corée).
Après avoir cuit son petit déjeuner dans son nouveau poêlon (fait en Inde) agrémenté de fraises (de la Californie) et de bananes (du Costa Rica), il s'est assis avec sa calculatrice (faite au Mexique) pour calculer son budget de la journée.

En consultant sa montre (faite en Taiwan), il a syntonisé sa radio (faite en Chine), puis a embarqué dans sa voiture (faite au Japon) pour continuer sa recherche d'emploi, entre deux fermetures d'usines (au Québec!).
À la fin d'une autre journée décourageante, il décide de se verser un verre de vin (fait en France), pour accompagner son dîner congelé (fait aux É.-U.), met ses sandales (faites au Brésil) et allume sa télévision (faite en Indonésie), et puis se demande pourquoi il n'arrive pas à se trouver une bonne job payante, ici au Québec!!


ACHETONS DES PRODUITS LOCAUX, C'EST DANS NOS POCHES QUE ÇA RETOURNERA.

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

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

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

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

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

It isn’t over yet!!

Montreal en Lumière (The Highlights festival):

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

Our duck festival – two weekends left!

www.jardinssauvages.com

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Our winter wonderland

We play as the plants rest

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

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

Bringing oysters home by luge 

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

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

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

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

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

May all your joys be pure joys,

And all your pain champagne.

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

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

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

1260-1328 (Meister Johann Eckhart)*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Here’s to 2009!

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

The Green Pan- An early X-mas gift from a friend put one of these babies in my hands. I would never have bought into the marketing at first sight, but how happy am I to have it in my kitchen now? Very. (Thanks Rach!)It’s a non-stick fry pan without the toxic properties at high temperatures, with a significantly lower carbon footprint in production and life. I’ve tried it with eggs, fish, duck, beef, veal, vegetables.. all with great results. At low heat, nice sweating and heat control/conductivity, and most importantly, at high heat, a good sear with little fat required, no muss no fuss, no sticking, easy to clean. I don’t know how it would stand up to commercial use, but for the home, there is no doubt that this is a winner. Buy one for the cook in your life (or for yourself). Available in most kitchen stores, I also saw it at Zone. www.green-pan.com

Green pans aside.. in order to reconcile holiday gift giving and my principles of sensible consumption, I put a little work into my shopping and think hard about my purchases in attempt to be as ethical, green as possible all without being too rigid, still keeping the fun alive. For me that means a lot of cooking (because that’s what I do), and besides, I think the best gifts are home cooked or hand-made, something hand crafted by a local artisan, or at least unique and meaningful in some way, preferably not mass-produced in China. Fortunately, quality and taste usually go hand in hand with the local or fair-trade, artisanal, and sustainable choices.. So here are my suggestions mainly along those lines..

In the home cooking category, you can always volunteer to host/make X-mas dinner - now there's the hugest gift of all, especially for a weary Mom (my Mom is exempt for the rest of her life). The next best bet is baking, making classic shelf stable sweets like cookies, that way you can get it out of the way the week before the madness. Apart from truffles, traditional shortbread and gingerbread, I once made fortune cookies (with food jokes inside), all kinds of trippy flavoured chocolates, spice mixes, spiced nuts, buttercrunch and brittle, hot sauce.. I always dig into my mason jar preserves for housewarming gifts, I religiously make a zillion game meat tourtières, some foie torchon for the usual suspects, as well as miscellaneous other treats. This year Iwill be making big batch of cassoulet (François' request), some soup of course, and who knows what else. Customers will be taking up most of my time this X-mas, so that might be it, we'll see ..

For those of you hitting the stoves:

See Canadian Living Christmas book or site, Gourmet magazine, Martha Stewart or Ricardo X-mas issues. Fine Cooking also has a great holiday baking guide out. There's also a wealth of ideas to inspire you online:

Bon Appetit’s Blog envy: A great holiday recipe roundup from popular blogs http://www.doriegreenspan.com/dorie_greenspan/2008/12/blog-envy-a-great-holiday-recipe-roundup.html

Canadian Living - 9 cookie recipes http://www.canadianliving.com/food/menus_and_collections/cookie_recipes__in_cookie_heaven.php

All kinds of holiday recipes and tips at Gourmet http://www.gourmet.com/recipes/holiday

Gingerbread cookies http://www.elise.com/recipes/archives/001633gingerbread_man_cookies.php

For those of you purchasing gifts in Montreal:

There’s Dix Mille Villages on Monkland (or on St-Denis) for hand-crafted, fair-trade gems such as pottery, wooden toys, X-mas ornaments and trinkets. http://www.tenthousandvillages.ca

La Maison Verte for the ideal housewarming gift, stocking stuffer or more: essential oil based gifts for her, ‘Les Chocolats de Sandra’ fair trade locally made chocolates, Café Rico coffee, and miscellaneous green items to turn someone on to the options out there, be it cleaning products, clothes or bamboo.. You can even shop online now. http://www.cooplamaisonverte.com/

Salon des Metiers d’Art at Place Bonaventure up until this week-end, for an overwhelming assortment of Quebec arts and crafts http://www.metiers-d-art.qc.ca/smaq/

The Jean Talon Market for gourmet edibles, many gift baskets to be had. Philippe de Vienne’s shop (Olives et Épices) is an unbeatabe place for foodie gifts. As is Quincaillerie Dante on the periphery.

Quebec made gourmet gift baskets online http://www.clindoeilgourmet.com/

A good bottle of wine is always nice, jamais de trop.. Many people won’t spend on a bottle for themselves, so I find this to be a nice treat. But splurging is not necessary, I tasted a fantastic local sparkling cider, perfect for the holidays and only 5% alcohol: Domaine de Minot, available at Marché des Saveurs. La Face Caché also has one out in a sharp package, I will be trying that one this weekend..

101 Produits Quebecois à découvrir http://www.editionsgoelette.com/site.php?detail=295

Or see my smart shopping page for tips on local food and arstisanal goods, online eco-guides.. http://soupnancy.squarespace.com/smart-shopping/

And More Shopping Online:

For Charity, A BRILLIANT idea: 

Unicef Gifts of Magic https://www.shopunicef.ca/ec/Portal.aspx?CN=32C5B8993DA5&MN=B2039D949889&LN=EN

Order a sugar shack special at the Endless Banquet, buyraffle ticketsor donate to the UN food program.. http://endlessbanquet.blogspot.com/2008/12/menu-for-hope-5.html

 Send a gift in support of the David Suzuki Foundation http://www.davidsuzuki.org/Donation_Centre/ecards.asp?tr=y&auid=4339335

Liquid Smudge - My mom introduced me to this ambient spray called ‘Liquid smudge’ that is revitalizing, peace and harmony inducing, the supposed cure for all ailments.. Sounds like a bunch of ‘n’importe quoi’, but it does smell amazing; it’s a mix of essential oils.. www.invocation.ca

In the Junky but fun category:

Lee Valley tools for miscellaneous gadgets for the men in your life (or for spice boxes and the original micro-plane if anyone you know doesn’t have one – no brainer!)

Gifts for Bacon lovers

http://www.seriouseats.com/2008/12/bacon-lovers-gifts-guide-holidays.html

Then there’s always BOOKS, BOOKS, BOOKS:

Books I’ve come across recently that I highly recommend:

The Devil’s Picnic, by Taras Grescoe (and Bottomfeeder, his latest)

In Defense of Food by Michael Pollan (not new, but I think everyone should read it and it’s an easy read)

Brain fuel, by Joe Schwarctz – fun for any curious mind

Cookbooks:

La Cuisine et le gout des épices, Ethneé et Philippe de Vienne

Anita Stewart’s Canada

(Only for cooks):

Under Pressure, Thomas Keller

Ma Gastronie, by Fernand Point republished

Canada’s top ten cookbooks http://www.thetelegram.com/index.cfm?sid=192802&sc=85

For Kids:

There’s a barnyard in my bedroom, David Suzuki – bringing nature into our urban landscape for perspective, also ‘The Salmon Forest’

Whining and Dining, by Emma Waverman and Eshon Mott – cooking for kids, with real food and enough flavour for adults

If there ever was an artisan to support.. There’s this Algonquin guy my mom met who writes books for kids (in English/French) and (English/Algonquin), beautiful and informative for a kid from here I would think (examples: ‘Where is the wolf?’, ‘Strange spring’)

Jean Denis Coté is his name, to order:

jdcote07ågmail.com, http://www.aaao.ca/cote.htm

Kitchen Haikus, and why not?

http://www.epicurious.com/articlesguides/blogs/editor/2008/11/kitchen-haiku.html?mbid=rss_epilog

Here are mine:

Happy meal

Visit a farmer,

Go out foraging the woods,

Make a ‘happy meal’

The seasons

Take in the seasons,

Hop on the roller coaster,

Feel, see, and breathe God

Ratatouille

Eggplant, tomatoes,

Squash, garlic and TLC,

Alas, Ratatouille

The best things in life

Good food and fine wine,

Best friends and a blazing fire,

Ain’t nothing better

The kitchen dance

Feel the heat, chop-chop,

Cook your best, dance, sink or swim,

Cheers with beers, laugh, cry

Thanksgiving

A roasted turkey,

Mashed potatoes and stuffing,

Thanksgiving, comfort.

Mother Nature is a riot

Sunshine and flowers,

Storms, magic mushrooms and bugs,

Marvellous nature

Our senses tell us all we need to know

Salty, Sweet, Tart, Bitter,

Savoury, Spicy, Filling,

Necessary, Food is life.

I have been so busy all summer and fall (yes, in the weeds) that I haven’t written all that much. Actually, what I have is a number of unfinished pieces – half hashed out ideas or stuff I wrote but never bothered to post. Now, looking back, most of it seems dated. Being excited about the seasons and the science of happiness related to that - Ugh! Maybe it will come back to me one day, who knows.. In the meantime, I’m happy to see the busy season go and I don’t care about the science behind it. I wanted to write all about our mushroom festival – the ins and outs of the up and down season that it was, the varieties that wowed, those that didn’t show up, the hits and misses, recipes, highlights - all while it’s fresh in my mind, I have loads of photos. But I don’t have the energy, or the desire.. Although it was a huge success, it is the climax of our season (that starts in spring) and I’m ready for a break, not to mention eager to be cooking and thinking about other foodstuffs.

Amongst all the scraps of paper and half written posts, there is this one that remains timely only because in this business, the weeds are the kitchen are the weeds. I got writing one night in response to a post by Shuna (on Eggbeater), and I went off on a tangent or two, but I still think it’s worth posting, even if it only gets you to read her (now old) post.

I love it, Shuna - so dead on. Please see her post about cooks in the weeds, especially if you are a young cook. http://eggbeater.typepad.com/shuna/2008/10/the-weeds-resta.html

Here, we call ‘the weeds’ being ‘dans le jus’ or ‘in the juice’, but it’s all the same: that kitchen reality of relentless and unpredictable pressure that can make or break a cook, that reveals our experience and competence, our strengths and weaknesses, that inevitably weeds out the unfit, sending misguided newbies running for greener pastures, that makes the rest of us stronger and always on our toes, trying/needing to be better all the time.

No matter how much you want to coddle your carrots or your greens or your quail eggs or your dough, the fact is, it all has to be ready ‘Yesterday’, despite the fact that it’s hot outside and the dough isn’t cooperating, that the fridge is AFU and your greens half froze in the cooler, or that the silpats are sticking and the oven is full, that you’re one scallop short, or that the dishwasher hasn’t shown up or the fish guy hasn’t arrived. And none of your team has eaten, pissed or had a break with no window in sight. Still, the show has to go on, customers are hungry, they are there expecting the best, you HAVE to deliver, you have to be ready, you have to have a pocket of solutions when...

The ‘weeds’ or ‘the juice’ is exactly what work experience is all about. You aren’t even a cook, let alone a chef, out of school – no, not until you have years of weeds under your belt. And then as a chef, you still deal with that monster, being put to the test regularly, but you also have to train your cooks to deal with it, and as Shuna so eloquently puts it, there is no one way. Some need to be coached big time with words or with side by side action, but ultimately, all cooks have to ‘sink or swim’. No matter how much you learn, how well you are prepared, the weeds will come and you will have to deal. Best be as prepared as you can (MEP, MEP, MEP), and then be ready for anything. But then you will still need good judgement to negotiate those ominous weeds, and a good relationship with your fellow workers who might have to jump in to help when needed (solid team dynamic), all of which requires humility and social skills, and of course resourcefulness, passion and stamina throughout.. Who ever said cooking was easy? If only people really knew what was behind all their beautiful, delicious dishes. Oh yeah, that’s what the food network is on to, not that a few screaming chefs and cockroaches do it justice.

I clearly remember my first real cooking job (Quartier Latin, garde manger 15 years ago), where I tasted the ‘true - out of school’ weeds for the first time. I was a top student, but all of a sudden, I was NOTHING, useless. Always in the juice, I started and finished every shift in a sweat, daily on the verge of tears, I really wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to do this ‘crazy business’. I prayed to just get through the day, chop fast enough, get those tartares and salads and escargots and blue cheese beignets out quickly and just so, not forgetting all those damn squid and brains I had to clean, making the crème brulées, the fussy pear tart and etc., all while passing under the radar of the French chef I hadn’t impressed because I didn’t know what a ‘cul de poule’ was (why do I have to be anglo?) and because I couldn’t turn a mushroom for crap (what is the point of turning mushrooms? I still don’t know.) It was boot camp for sure - physically exhausting, mentally draining, a whipping of the ego, a whipping dans tous les sens. Especially because I had another full time job in a similar kitchen on the side (I was eager and driven), where luckily, I had a slightly softer chef in charge who still pushed me to the limit, but was supportive and empowered me; no matter, I was still always in the weeds.

Anyway, at the Quartier Latin, where I was terrified stiff, my saving grace was the incident when he asked me for a brunoise when he wanted a macedoine, scolded me but then realized I was right, coupled with the fact that the following night, I cut my finger off and taped it all up solidly without letting on and worked the night, only going to the hospital at 1am (it was too late for stitches), and then I think I made a surprisingly good staff meal for a rookie to boot. All to say that I passed the hump, I started getting pats on the back. That bit of extra work and recognition kept me going; maybe I could do this after all, I thought, just MAYBE I did have at least some of what it takes. The juice came again every day for hours at a time, and I still never knew if I would survive, but somehow I did. Then I’d go to my other job and go through another gut wrenching service, days, weeks, months on end. If I had stopped for a minute, I may have gotten weak and bailed, but before I knew it, the adrenalin rush, the steep learning curve, the exciting food we were cooking, the team spirit, that kitchen stadium battle feeling with its sweet highs, had taken hold of my soul. I finished the year stressed out, with a foot problem and a back problem, but I was almost a cook. I had worked all the stations, I could make all kinds of dishes, even menus, but it still wasn’t easy - managing the rush, the juice, the weeds. There were the Radio Can lunch rushes at Picolo, the hundreds of brunches at Winnie’s, my catering events that started hours late, the non-stop chit machine at the Tavern, then the stars and reputation of L’Eau à la Bouche.

As a somewhat seasoned cook at l’Eau, I still wasn’t out of the weeds. Instead of volume and non-stop chits, it was all of a sudden about important details, a brigade, managing up and down customer flow, staff and inventory, living up to Anne’s reputation. The pressure never abated, the looming weeds never left, staff meal at 5pm – forget about it. Now at Les Jardins Sauvages, although simpler in format, and me better equipped with experience, I’m still constantly in fear, and I can rarely manage a 5 min. break, let alone staff meal. Definitely, a lot of that pressure is self imposed, but mainly it’s the nature of the beast - professional cooking is wrought with details, time limits, perishables and PEOPLE, ie. Ten zillion things that can go wrong, especially if you’re striving for high standards. And I don’t want to/can’t bang out food. None of this would be worth it if we banged out food.

Who wants to bang out food? And so, I plan and I organize and I fret; I feel like I do everything in my power to minimize the weeds (all while cooking them), but they still keep cropping up. That’s life, as they say, especially in a restaurant kitchen. I have no choice but to do my best to avoid them at all costs, but I do embrace them too, it’s a part of what makes this crazy life tasty, keeping life exciting, keeping you sharp. How to pass that on? I don’t know. It’s just years in a kitchen. Stick it out, and it comes. Stick it out, you’ll understand. All chefs can relate 100% to Shuna’s post, it’s so good.

Now, I have a small kitchen, I’m there every night manning the stove, searing the meat, making the sauces, I have a set menu. All that means I have more control, minimizing disasters that aren’t my own fault, but there’s a lot more to a meal than meat and sauce, I still need good staff. And again, because I only have six burners, limited space and a small staff, I am flirting with the weeds because I push the limits with my complex menus; cooking everything that needs to be à la minute, stove space is calculated from the time we arrive, every countertop is always in use. I get an allergy or a kid (pasta), and there goes two burners.. If tables are staggered due to late arrivals – I can’t be searing scallops and deer at the same time, nor can I be plating scallops and deer at the same time (space, staff). So, even my supposedly serene kitchen is ripe for weeds. But not like in a big one with a brigade and a big carte, or another small one with no brigade and a line up.

Oh, but I remember.. Over the years, I can think of so many juice nights, most of which you get through and sit around afterwards and have beers in relief; everything is fine after the fact, a happy blur. But there are certain scenarios that if repeated don’t wash down with a pint of beer. There’s the cook who is NEVER ready, that always needs bailing out, that relies on it, that won’t last. But it does happen to all of us too, to tank, to almost not pull through until someone on the team comes to the rescue, and it’s classic that - the uber talented cook who ends up sinking because of his ego because he is working alone, in contrast with another perhaps less talented cook who is friends with everyone, who jumps in here and there, often to save the day. A cook like that provides a kind of glue in a kitchen, so much more valuable than sheer talent I now understand. Like a chef de partie who can tell you exactly what the score is, that we are in the shit, that there are exactly 3 pintades left with 5 on order, that we are low on this or that, or that so and so is fucking up, or who can fess up and ask for help. You have to be quick, on the ball and a good cook, but if you can’t take the heat and say it like it is when the shit hits the fan, you take the team down. Like Shuna says, in the weeds, it’s the team that counts. As a result, I don’t choose my staff the same way anymore (when I can choose). But really, I don’t care about CV’s or credentials or even talent really, it’s more about being smart (in a general sense), quick, tough, passionate, dedicated, and most importantly, having a good personality that fits with the team and the place - all the better to get through the weeds together.

The 'artist' in me

I’ve often heard writers talking about a story taking control of them, how once the plot is drawn or the characters outlined or even that they sit down to write, they feel no choice but to resign to that new life taking shape.. They might step in to guide, to shake things up, but mainly they are just along for the ride..

I always found this bizarre, even unbelievable. I know it takes incredible imagination to be a true author or storyteller, but to let go that much, and end up with a masterpiece?? Maybe I don’t understand how to let go that much, and so can’t completely relate.

However. I relate a teeny bit which is why I am writing this. I’m not talking about elevated artistic expression here, no novellas or grand works of art - only menus, nothing important, only a chef’s thoughts. In any case, I do feel like my ‘artistic’ sense is taking up more space lately.

I’ve always considered myself more of a logical, order-phyllic (academic, scientist) type, but with a definite artistic side in my desire to feel unbridled, my need for creativity. I was always creative really, but in a very structured way, and in a very personal way; it’s not like anyone was ever watching. I would draw, I would sing (bad idea), I would write, but I had to work at it. Even as a doodling kid, I worked hard. I stayed up late after my homework writing songs, poetry, and drawing, until I discovered sports and regular high school pursuits (sex, drugs rock and roll, more or less) and got side tracked. Meanwhile, I found math and science which was seductively much more straight forward than all the artsy stuff, and being coaxed by the establishment, I fell into step and followed that path. That’s what the smart people should be doing (the thinking of the time), that’s where you got the pats on the back… It was easy for a while; little did I know that it would lead me on a big detour. Soon enough, I would find my way back in touch with my artistic soul in cooking, although it took ten years or so, and then some.

At first, I took on cooking like any other class or challenge, very studiously, like an academic, but I quickly learnt that my senses had to be engaged; this was different, invigorating, overwhelming. As a young cook, I read so much, I cooked so much, I slaved and I dreamt so much, and years down the road, I think it eventually all came together. I was brainstorming all the time, reading, jotting things down in a journal.. I could always come up with ideas or new menus on a daily basis, or write something when I sat down to do so, but it’s because I already had a handbag of inspirational material to work with from my relentless collection of stimuli, an arsenal of ideas just waiting to be hashed out. Maybe I was moving too fast for the artist in me, or perhaps learning what I had to in order to be able to make the most of it.

Nowadays, I am that same person, but I have to say I fly by the seat of my pants more, I am less influenced by what I see and read, I go with the flow more, I take more risks. Or maybe I take fewer in a way, because I’m less adventurous (in terms of attacking new trends or technologies for the sake of it), I don’t know. It comes down to the fact that I’m less rational, I'm doing whatever I feel like in the here and now, be it because of the forager’s finds, because of a day-dream, or because of something great I tasted in a casse-croute or in an old fashioned French restaurant that struck a chord. I’ll riff on a quirky recipe I saw in some sketchy cookbook or even in Chatelaine, or it might have been a molecular gastronomy acolyte that lit a spark. That’s nothing new, all chefs can’t help but be affected by what’s going on around them, there's definite osmosis going on all the time.  But there is less going on around me than ever before and I’m paying attention less and less; my moves are more spontaneous, not calculated. The other night it was after watching a foreign film (not food related at all) that my jostled mind started spewing out ideas. I honestly don’t know what I will be cooking next. That’s the thing. I’m acting more like an artist than ever.

I guess it’s part experience, growing up, and being comfortable in one’s own skin, then part my environment being conducive to letting the artist in me out..

But not quite.

I am short staffed right now, I know my budget, I know my constraints, but I push those limits all the time. I never want to do the same thing twice; I’m always doing new things when it would be more sensible to go with the tried and true. I keep complicating my menus even when I don’t want to, in that I don’t see it as necessary or even adherent to the style I want for myself, beyond it not making business sense. I absolutely hate it if I have to produce a menu more than a week in advance, because I’ve found that when I do that, when the time comes, I don’t feel like cooking whatever I had planned weeks before - no, now I feel like cooking something else and it feels wrong. When I sit down to write my menu for the week, I have ideas swirling around in my head, maybe even some written down (on my ‘to try’ list), but I honestly don’t know what it will end up as before I’m done. And then, I’m like, what the hell, that’s so much MEP! So then, I might do a more practical rewrite, take off homemade pasta, inject Israeli couscous, take off sausage, inject rillettes etc., but more often than not, I don’t. I guess I kind of like the challenge, the ride.

Intellectually, I feel like my style is simple, but I can’t help but notice that although I am not using much fussy technique or big frills, practically speaking, my menus are infallibly intricate: I keep adding subtle layers of flavour, background ingredients, new or old fashioned multi-step recipes in spite of myself. Several times this summer, I cancelled an engagement or a day trip away from the kitchen to stick around in order to reduce my stress and space out my workload, but then found myself adding a few labour intensive components to my menu, or deciding it was all of a sudden imperative that I defrost the freezer, do inventory or do some tests, because now there was the possibility of swinging it. One step forward, two steps backward; my to-do list for the day has to have a few too many items on it, it seems.

The manager/partner side of me is critical of all this. I know that professional cooking and the restaurant business is very little about art, more about organization, manual labour, management and accounting, even common sense. Nancy , why not reproduce some of your more successful, you-can-do-in-your-sleep dishes instead of inventing new ones each week? Nancy , why make your crackers or bread or pasta when you can buy them? Maybe then, you could take the time to clean the fan, and anyway, is it really necessary to degrease the fan twice a week? Nancy , why not cut down on the complexity of each dish, either in the number of steps, or at least in the number of à la minute motions in dressing (labour) for each dish, then you might not have to worry so much about your staff? Nancy , why not cut down on the number of ingredients period? Nancy , do you really need all those expensive top end ingredients when your mission is the wild stuff?

But I feel that no and yes, I am who I am, I cook how I cook, I follow my inclinations, and I can’t (don’t want to) do otherwise. I need to be true to that passion, I need to be evolving. Which is why I am here, that is, still bitten, and in the woods at Les Jardins Sauvages. I have been doing it my way for a while (even with Anne, I worked this way, never really cooking anything I didn’t want to, always with recipes/menus/compositions that came from the heart, from some ingredient I was enamoured with, from some technique I wanted to explore, from some old dish that spoke to me that I wanted to reinvent – that she agreed with, of course). And at the Tavern before, I was free creatively too, only limited by my naiveté and by the somewhat conservative customers. Of course in both places, I had to keep the clientele, establishment and purpose of the restaurant in mind, but in each moment in time, I was fully committed to that particular job while continually pushing my limits. Now, I have another set of constraints, but I have more of an open template that I’ve been slowly moulding into my own (based on François’ reality). All to say, I could not be cooking at some mega star hotel in Dubai or any of those top jobs I was once offered with the freedom I have here and with ingredients I believe in, like I have here. Years in the making, and thanks to the present circumstances, without me realizing it, the artist in me has been unleashed.

In a setting where I finish my own sauces and sear my own meats, with a set chef’s menu, I can change things on a whim, I can do as I like, and ultimately, I know that the food is better for it. It’s so personal, so cooked with love, so true, so in the moment, not to mention the underlying quality of the ingredients from local artisans I love and those foraged by my guy and his team.

What a great way to cook. But I know it’s not the most profitable way, or the easiest way. The day to day logistics of pulling this off in a small country kitchen, amidst fluctuating business and a shortage of resources, often means a lot of stress for everyone involved. An artist maybe, but I’m no peace-and-love, piece-of-cake to work with, more like a whirlwind of seriousness and pressure on the job. But at the end of the day, when everyone is happy, the customers wooed and satiated, the staff paid and proud, the resulting sense of accomplishment and gratifying exhaustion makes it all seem worth it. To me anyway. Until the next day when I’m in the juice again.. but don’t have time to think, just do-do-do until the curtain closes and that rush comes again. Maybe François who pays the bills and runs around like a chicken with his head cut off trying to keep my larder stocked and check off my many lists, has more than the occasional second thought. Poor François, he courted a chef who seemed like she had her wits about her, and he ended up with an unpredictable artist. Especially that he is one of sorts too, it all makes for a colourful life, both in business and outside.

Yes, at times it indeed seems like a crazy life, and not much of one outside the restaurant, which would no doubt be made simpler without any artist in the equation. But then would it all be worth it? The endless hours sweating it out, with so little stability or security, so much peddling and damage control, so few days off..  Then again, there is so much excitement and action, and so much beauty, so much gratification, so many good people, so much good food and wine, so many laughs, so many more highs than lows..

No, I wouldn’t have it any other way; that’s me, that’s us, that’s this business. And besides, it just might be that ‘la vie d’artiste’ ‘malgré tout’, is the best elixir ‘dans un monde de fou’.

A day of foraging – just what the doctor ordered

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

François reaches for an autumn oyster sometimes you need a stick

Theo and a patch of shaggy mane

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

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

chicken mushroom

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

Day 1

Day 3

Day 5

Caprese Salad

To fiddle or not to fiddle

I’ve just eaten the same simple tomato salad, three nights in a row, and wow. I’ve been eating pretty solid tomatoes all summer, but they are tasting soo great right now. I might just be clinging onto the last tastes of summer as the nights get colder. I’m already sad to see the greens go (I bought some cultivated arugula last week for the first time), but with the abundance of late harvest veg, it’s not feeling like such a big deal yet. Not to mention that I’m forever distracted by the stops and starts of the mushroom season (I’m still waiting on half the varieties). But oh, when the tomatoes go though, that will be tragic. Good thing I love autumn. And good thing I managed to find the time to execute my annual ‘Operation Tomate’, canning 60L of tomato sauce, without which I don’t know how I would ever survive winter.

As I sat there admiring my wall of brilliant red mason jars, revelling in my fresh tomato thoughts after finishing off yet another lip smacking tomato salad, I thought I should get some of this tomato love on paper. But then I realized that I’ve done that many times before. I put down my pen and paper and began catching up on my internet reading material, until I came across this. What, why, no, you have got to be kidding!? I had no choice but to pick up my pen again.

Check it out - A beautiful deconstructed, reconstructed (however you want to call it), nouvelle ‘Insalata Caprese’! Peeled heirloom tomatoes, injected with basil oil, mozzarella balloon filled with tomato water foam, olive oil powder, basil gel "leaves", balinese sea salt.  http://www.playingwithfireandwater.com/foodplay/2008/09/insalata-caprese.html

Kinda neat, but really, why bother? These chefs are CRAZY.

Maybe I’m just getting old and lazy.. Maybe it’s because the summer season is winding down and the tomatoes are at their best, and that I was still relishing the lingering tastes of my most delicious field tomato salad with fresh cheese, a good EVO with chili and coarse salt. Or maybe it’s just that I had just finished a crazy week in the kitchen cooking more complicated food (but nowhere near as complicated as that Playing with fire and water stuff above).. Altogether, the idea of fiddling with the Caprese at this time of year just irked me.

Don’t get me wrong, I do love to fiddle. And sometimes you have to fiddle with food to make it special. Sometimes too, you just feel like tinkering because you’re a cook and that’s what you do; and sometimes you just have no choice because customers are paying for something they can't make at home. But at other times, all that fiddling can be counterproductive, and seem just plain wrong.

The point of manipulating and cooking ingredients (ie.fiddling) usually involves necessary transformation to a more palatable form or at least embellishment of some sort. With perfectly ripe produce though, it more likely only means time lost and inherent denaturing of the product.

This ‘Caprese Salad’ is only the slightest example of how far out the new wave of a certain breed of chefs armed with the latest in molecular gastronomy, their powders, gels and talent have taken modern food. Not that it’s a bad thing. I’d have to taste the dish; however, honestly right now, I fancy just reading about it while munching on real tomatoes - that François carefully selected which then sat and ripened on the counter until eating them messily as is, was THE ONLY option.

Not to say that I don’t appreciate the contributions of these cutting edge cooks. This level of fiddling requires creativity, research, refinement, and skill. Although I do think they are insane, I have enormous respect for the lot, especially the original leaders like Ferran Adria, Wylie Dufresne, Heston Blumenthal, and Achatz, and now including this new bunch online (more approachable, but just as serious). I was once a disciple of the chef set, curiously exploring it all myself, convinced that this marriage of science, technology and traditional cooking was the epitome of haute cuisine, the ultimate. I have since lost the thread, I’ve been lapped and left behind by the whole movement, yet I still tune in somewhat out of curiosity, for the mental exercise, more than anything.

The one thing that continues to unsettle me about this new trend is the underlying goal of complete and utter transformation, the implicit denaturing of real food, not to mention the use of all the gums and powders associated with the processed food industry. Although cuisine has always been about transformation and all these tricks are basically just new tools and techniques for chefs, it’s just TOO MUCH fiddling for me. It clearly does not mesh with the parallel trend of fresh, local, seasonal ingredients, the shortening of the distance between farm and plate and the shunning of industrial, overly processed food. No, this direction is akin to a swing of the pendulum back to acrobatics for the sake of acrobatics, as in the old French style of chaud froid, and sculpting food, that I thought we sensibly left behind for the sake of taste.. Food can always be a canvas, but that’s not not always in our best interest. Our parents and grand parents didn’t seem to think that playing with our food was such a good thing either.

In any case, the contrast between this fancy Caprese Salad and the simple one before me, which could not have been better at this moment in time, drove my conviction home, leading me yet one step further from ‘molecular gastronomy’ in principle.

My cooking style at the restaurant lies somewhere in between these two in terms of degree of fiddling. In fact, I am constantly torn between the fiddle and fiddle-not camps; out of respect for the ingredients, out of principle and practicality , I hold back, while my artistic sense, curiosity, drive and desire to please, tug me the other way. I’m forever scolding myself for over-complicating things, forever struggling to find that balance in composition that best shows off the ingredients, that best represents our style and concept, that will humbly wow and surprise, all while being true to myself, creative but grounded, straight up but not boring..

(The extent of my fiddling with the Caprese (at the restaurant): Arugula, pickled hedgehog, smoked duck, boletus oil, wild grape ‘balsamic’, mushroom salt )

Even as I try to keep my fiddling to a minimum with my feet firmly planted in the woods as opposed to a fancy lab-kitchen, I shall likely remain plugged in and fascinated by the likes of Ideas in Food, Playing with Fire and their nouveau style Caprese Salad.

The Ideas in Food team http://ideasinfood.typepad.com/

is a favourite source of these antics and reflections. You can tell despite the convoluted technique they use, they have true passion and a reverence for top ingredients. They never cease to amaze and inspire me; they get me thinking wow that’s clever! (or occasionally wow, that’s ridiculous!). I admire their hard work and dedication to their mission (ie. my full inbox). And they come up with the darnest of things, often brilliant and surprising ideas and combinations of ingredients that get me excited. There was the coffee pasta lately that I found intriguing even if I am not a fan of flavouring pasta dough because it cuts the gluten and usually involves a waste of resources as flour really deadens the flavour. But they used a hot water dough, and I also couldn’t help but think that a certain wild mushroom stuffing would rock with the coffee. Then there was their creative and practical notion of speed-infusing with sous-vide which isn't all that new, but they are really working it. On the flip side, there is the occasional combo that elicits an ugh, like bananas and marrow.. They were at their best when describing the creative process the other day, which I thought hit the nail on the head when it comes to exposing a chef’s thought process (and really who better than them).. But then the next post offered up some banality like ‘Guess what, cooking vegetables in their skins provides more flavour’. At times like this, I can’t help but think they are so off in their own bubble of a deconstructed world of beakers and scales, that they sometimes forget about the real world and real food. Similarly though, many ‘regular’ cooks are so caught up in a routine that they forget about all the possibilities for new flavours and pure fun out there.

The truth is that there are many more hits than misses, and either way, it is exciting stuff. Obviously, I love that they (and people like them) are there to be pushing limits and exploring novel ideas. Although I have no desire to cook like that anymore, I do admire them and thank them all for stretching my mind in the subtlest of ways. I don’t know about fiddling so much with the Caprese Salad, and I still believe in ‘real food’ way more, but good on them for carving out a niche and making the culinary arena more dynamic. Wouldn’t it be boring if everyone out there was serving up the same Caprese Salad au naturel, no matter how fresh and sustainable. I suppose there’s room for all kinds of food and people, chefs, restaurants, and Caprese Salads out there. All dressed up listening to classical music, in some exotic locale on vacation, the new-fangled Caprese salad might work better at seducing me than the simple one I want at the end of a hard summer’s night in the kitchen... It all comes down to good tomatoes, time and place, and who’s doing the fiddling.

P.S. Can you tell I like the word 'fiddle'?

Vesce de loup (Giant puffball) contest

(details en Français à suivre)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The proper notice (in French) :

Amateur de champignons ou mycologue averti,

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

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

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

Amanite des césars

A mushroom fit for kings

A very rare and special mushroom, considered the top of all edible mushrooms by many, one that we don’t have the luxury of meeting every year.. In France , they go for 100-200$ a lb, they are a prize. Here, few people know of them, they aren’t on the culinary lingo landscape like morels or porcini, but maybe it’s because they don’t show up much and never in any significant quantity, and are oh so very fragile, so in effect impossible to work into a menu outside the home (of a forager). But for the third week in a row now, we have been offered a generous basket from the wild – and wow.

However, it seems that Philippe de Vienne and co. are more worthy than little old me as they got first dibs, since François brought them to the market to show off, eager to share this special treat with epicureans who could fully appreciate the marvel. He preferred to give them away to the right people as opposed to sell them to people who might not appreciate them to the fullest – that’s how precious they are. I got news of this second hand, and only on the third week did I finally get a taste.. I had to remind François that the last time I tasted an Amanite des Césars was when he was courting me, and because the famous thing had been sitting in his truck for too long, it was hardly spectacular out of the pan. This is the King of Mushrooms I thought at the time? I trust my nose and palette, I wasn’t convinced.. Could both François and the French have it all wrong?

That was five years ago., and I haven’t had a chance to taste one since. Maybe now that he has me, he no longer needs to pull out the rare mushrooms to woo me, but still, I would appreciate a taste before all his new market friends.

Needless to say, I got my taste, actually more than a fair share (4 mushrooms) that I sautéed up simply and gobbled up immediately. Ça se mange tout seul. They were silky and delicate, with an omnipresent yet subtle mushroom taste. This is a sexy mushroom, a dainty mushroom, a girly mushroom. I found the taste oddly reminiscent of button mushrooms (which I love by the way), with a few layers of complexity perhaps, as well as cucumber notes (due to their water content, I suspect), and I loved the tender crunchy texture of the stem.

I am not sure I would say it is No.1 (mushrooms can be like apples and oranges) or the king of mushrooms, but it is certainly a most delicious mushroom, definitely fit for kings and the rest of us too.

We’ll never have enough to put on the menu at La Table des Jardins Sauvages, especially now that we are booked every weekend, so better they go to the market - as long as they go to someone who knows how special they are, and more importantly, that I am first in line, the king of quality control, c’mon..

Maurel Coulombe, a favourite producer of mine, featured in the Chef’ domain show (the cutie ducks) I did recently, whom I’ve been meaning to write about for some time now..

Maurel et Coulombe is an artisanal duck and foie gras producer in St-Jean de Matha, in the most beautiful part of the Lanaudière countryside, 45 minutes north of us, deep in the woods.

After a visit with the young dynamic French couple behind the operation, Yvanne Maurel et Martin Coulombe, I am happy to report happy ducks listening to traditional Quebec folk music, and that ultimately, I wasn’t shocked or horrified out of serving duck or foie gras. This is a small production of 180, or 1000 annually (instead of the 150 000 typical of other more industrial Quebec producers), raised according to traditional methods from the southwest of France (where Yvanne comes from). They are fed a diet of whole corn, no filler, and no antibiotics. They have them on a 4 mo cycle, longer (and more expensive) than the customary 2-3. Their integrity and care is evident on many levels. First of all, they allow their ducks (see the two month olds below) to be outside, despite a fight with the govt agency that wants to forbid it on the grounds of avian flu threats. There is no automation or machinery here, even the gavage is done personally and manually by Yvanne and Martin. They are proud and committed to artisanal methods, but sadly, can’t quite yet make a living at it, making a ‘real’ job on the side still necessary for Martin. We buy a good chunk of their magret production, their foie goes into their signature torchon which is already sold out; but they are starting to jar a variety of terrines for the retail market.

They could never supply the growing demand for artisanal foie gras without expanding, but for now, they choose to keep the control their small size allows them in order to ensure quality, a relatively ethical product, and to make the most of that. In their work and disposition, they are as inspiring as the quotes that mark certain landmarks on their property. Above the doorway of one shed, reads ‘La destiné des nations depend de la manière don’t il se nourrit’, by Brillat Savarin, and emblazoned along the duck feeder, there is a Rousseau quote, ‘Le premier et le plus grand des arts est l’agriculture’.. Yes, I love my quotes.

Back in her kitchen, Yvanne offered me a taste of her coveted torchon made by a secret recipe handed down from her grandmother in Toulouse . Cooked whole in cheesecloth in a super-flavourful broth (the key), this was the duckiest, most savoury torchon I have ever tasted, and what François called the best torchon of his life. Listen, I could not be insulted in face of a hundred plus years of tradition. Not to mention the good kitchen karma residing in the walls of this place to be sure- you see, their farmhouse was once owned by Henri Bouchard, Quebec’s much loved original celebrity chef who had a popular cooking show in the 50’s that was filmed here …

In face of the foie gras wars and sensational headlines that keep popping up in the news, remember that there are real, good people and ducks like these, hardly something we should be fighting off, more like cherishing and holding dear. Look for them and their products, and if you’re in the Joliette area, you can always go for a visit, just follow the foie gras signs.

Domaine Maurel-Coulombe, 450-886-2544

www.maurelcoulombe.com

P.S. I have to say that when it comes to duck, I am still a Ferme Morgan girl too, in that I haven’t stopped loving their Barbarie ( Muscovy ) duck, which is certified organic. I never really wanted another duck producer after discovering them when I was at l’Eau à la Bouche. But now I am in the Lanaudière and so should be favouring the producers closest by, and it’s hard not to be charmed by Yvanne and Martin. You know, we are lucky to be graced with the quality of choice we have in Quebec ; it’s too bad more people don’t know enough to be seeking these guys out. I wish I was big enough to make a difference, but I can’t support anybody, no matter how much I believe in them. These are two duck producers I want to promote and to keep (who needs two duck producers you say?). For me, it’s like apples and oranges anyway - different breeds, different products. For my last duck dinner event, I used both - the Moulard for the foie gras and magret for smoking, and Morgan’s Babarie for roasting and confit.. By the way, Ferme Morgan also has terrific guinea hen, wild turkey, sanglichon, as well as some lamb and beef, and they even market small cuts (as opposed to the whole beasts restaurants buy) for the average consumer, with drop offs at La Maison Verte and other specialty stores.. www.fermemorgan.com

The stars of summer

Now that the novelty of all the sprouts, greens and flowers of spring and early summer has worn off, now that interesting salads are commonplace, and now that I’ve done such wild edibles as cattail to death (in broth, in soup, as a side, in batters, doughs both savoury and sweet), there is a whole new set of foodstuffs, those that mark summer’s peak, that have come in to steal the show..

This dish just about sums it up: Sea spinach, corn, scallops, with tomato crinkleroot sauce  

As does this one: Corn and wild mushroom chowder with sea spinach

Or this one: Wild berry butter cakes with vanillagrass semi-freddo

Yes, my heroes of summer are:

Sea spinach and co.

The star of late summer is the grand arrival of the Marine plants: sea spinach, sea asparagus, sea rocket, marine plantain..

 Baby sea spinach, sea asparagus and marine plantain

Spergulaire

The first tender sprouts I tend to use raw, even though I really prefer it all cooked, if ever so slightly. Sea asparagus is best in a crunchy ‘seaweed like’ salad; sea rocket is piquant and mustardy, so more of a condiment- I keep that raw and throw a leaf here and there for bite, or make salsa verde.. Marine plantain is fun blanched then tossed with spaghetti or in a veg julienne.. My all time fave is the sea spinach, which although great raw, is even more amazing wilted with some garlic and chilli, as well as in soups and stuffings (anywhere you would use spinach) – basically, this is just super-duper spinach, nutty, salty, peppery, so green, so tasty.  

Mature sea spinach at its best

Mustn't forget about the Wild berries, an infallible high point of summer, and it has been a phenomenonal season so far to the delight of many pie makers and jammers (the little old ladies on the side of the road), and me. There’s nothing like sitting in a big patch with your favourite kid(s) and stuffing your face.

It was an excellent wild strawberry season, if you have the patience to pick more than you can eat (not me), or are willing to pay the big bucks for someone else to (no choice).

Also a very good black raspberry season, although the cultivated raspberries seem to be having trouble.. In some parts of the province, the strawberries, raspberries and blueberry seasons have oddly overlapped; here they came in rapid succession and abundantly; now, its the saskatoon berries and little wild blueberries.

Of course, my desserts have been all about the berries all summer, with some flower scents here and there, the occasional hit of chocolate..  Since I am not the biggest sweet tooth, Berry centric 'light' desserts are my favourite kind, and with wild berries, gorgeous on their own, you don't need to pull out many fancy pastry chef moves to make a killer dessert.  

Frozen berry soufflé, elderberry pannacotta, berry rose petal granite, vanilla-grass berry compote stuffed butter cakes, berry lemon curd tartlets with Labrador tea, berry pots de crème, and a 'wild' tiramisu to name a few of my summer sweets.. Berries everywhere, and always with something chilled and zingy on the side, of course.. For a refreshing dip into some cool talk about ice, chilling and the science of cold, read the master Harold McGee’s article  http://www.nytimes.com/2008/08/06/dining/06curious.html?partner=rssyahoo&emc=rss..

And Mushrooms bien sur!

We are now officially rolling on that oh so familiar, exciting rollercoaster that is the wild mushroom season, a quickly accelerating course of foraging hits and misses, of guesswork and grunt work and high fives, as François and co. scout his spots province wide, tracking what’s going on where, betting on the next score.. I never know if he will show up with 1lb or 50lb for me to process. And I’m having to fight for my share, as the shrooms fly off the counter at the market. The summer varieties are just starting to boom around here, but in some parts of the province, there has been too much humidity, making it hard to find a pristine patch.. My François des bois has not had much trouble though, keeping me busy with the steady influx of his pickings: chanterelles of all kinds (girolles, flocons, en tube, black trumpet), yellow and red foot boletes, clavaire, polypore, lactarius, Amanite des césars (very rare), even the first puffballs (very early!). Thanks to fellow mushroom freak friends around (and new ones at the market), we have rediscovered some less noble shrooms we hadn’t been using, but that upon retesting, have agreed that they are quite tasty (Boletus American and bolet veiné for example). Sorry, for my lazy lack of English terms.

All to say it’s looking really good – leaps and bounds over last summer to be sure (not hard to beat). Fresh mushrooms of all sorts dot my menus and I’m slowly starting to dry, pulverize, infuse, sauté, pickle and etc, to put up stores for our infamous quickly approaching mushroom event. Now, if only the rain would let up abit, just a bit.. All this rain has been good for the greenery and forests, but enough is enough.

Some brown plates (mushroom dishes): Venison with chanterelles, peas and curry leaf, Wild mushroom stoganoff..

Even I know there is more to life than mushrooms.. 

Hand in hand with the offerings from the wild, come the colors and tastes from the farmer’s fields, from the markets and roadside stands, where even if they are struggling a little more, EVERYTHING is in season. Well, just about everything is out.. Starting with the Lettuces, Peas, garlic and onions, Green beans, Carrots, new potatoes, Kohlrabi, celery, cabbage to the short-lived Fava beans..

 Beatiful peas!

You know it's summer when your MEP board is a still-life..

Grelots picked in our backyard.

François coming in the door with an armful.

Corn on the side of the road

So exciting (the favas), but then you shuck a sack or two or three, and well, that’s enough, time to move on to other beans.. I served them in a fricassee with lobster, corn and sea spinach, in a salad with corn, purselane and smoked duck, and in soup with homemade bacon and sea parsley, keeping a few for later.. My peas won’t last though, like corn, I can’t hold back from using them all over when I have them.

Alongside the green beans (Jade, extra-fine) and yellow flat beans out now, there is the king of summer, early corn, always so sweet, can’t get enough. But it remains to be seen if it will really be a good season...

With summer squash and eggplant out, I am getting into caponata, ratatouille and vegetable gratin mode.. A fun part of zucchini season is frying the blossoms, stuffed or not. I’ve ditched the tempura for an old-fashioned fish and chips style fritter batter (but using cattail flour) and panko, and quite like the results. Not as light, but very crisp and chewy, very satisfying, and a better bet in this humidity.

Zucchini gratin with bee balm ricotta and sea spinach, fried blossom (with cattail flour)

Being the tomato lover that I am, there is still that little something missing for a totally and utterly complete summer orgasm – tomato greatness.. Despite all the good little greenhouse tomatoes all summer, as the first field tomatoes appear, it’s impossible to not get excited about the ripest of the field tomatoes and heritage breeds around the corner, weehoo.. Summer isn’t over yet.

But I bet my little dehydrator wishes it was..

All summer long: Operation dehydration

This little baby is going 24/7, poor thing, drying everything from rose petals to day lily pistils to nettle and elderberry flower, making for a room deodorizer that reflects the seasons.. Now that the mushrooms are taking over the electric device and the ovens too, the ambient scent has changed from floral to well, mushroomy, possibly peculiar to the uninitiated. I wonder what the customers think. They say it’s charming and cool, but..

To dehydrate all the stuff we need, we have no choice but to resort to more natural, old-fashioned methods as well, using any hot dry space we can find.. We have door frame size screens filled with powdered bulrush, various leaves and flowers stacked in an airy hot box with holes, as well as nets of stuff in our attic.. Now, again, if only it would stop raining..

With a dry finish (fingers crossed), this might ring in as a very fruitful season. All I can say is that as wonderful as summer is, I can’t keep up. For the first time in ages, like one might dream of summer in winter, I can’t help but have my moments when I think wistfully of winter, when I’m not in this mad dash and dance with nature, when everything is done, there is no fresh harvest, and a day off isn’t so difficult to come by. Not that I’m complaining really, because cooking has never been this much fun, truly. I think I say that every year at this time (what cook doesn’t?).

But if anyone knows of a good cook for hire, a dishwasher, forager, salesperson, secretary or masseuse, please let me know - I could use them all, and now.

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

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

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

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

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

diamonds

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

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

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

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

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

The first images of summer

In the kitchen, at the table, out my window in the garden, and in the wild..

day lilies in bloom: the buds, the petals, plenty to use

purselane

strawberry, rhubarb and rose petal shortcake and granité (with clover and vanilla grass)

low water levels: good for foraging

scallop ceviche with oxalis, wild ginger gelée, bee balm, milkweed brocoli vinaigrette

Pettinicchi in town: another sign of summer

milkweed shoots and brocoli

cattails ready to cook up

pigweed (or lambs quarters)

early summer salad with pigweed, live forever, smoked duck, quail egg, crinkleroot pickled veg

hot in the kitchen (hence the rag-sweat band)

François and his pea shoots

wild pea shoots

Aperos outside

oxalis
snacking on pigweed

Achilée riverside

julienne des dames

lilac season at La Table

armoise, liveche

Terrasse is open

From the woods, the first shrooms..

Morels from my old spot in Ste-Adele

Agarics forestiers - smells like chocolate!!

François' first bolet picks: bolets orangés and bolets jaune

the first baby chanterelles (left)..

I seem to always forget to take food pictures during service, so as for signs of summer on the plate, you'll have to come out to eat...   

My menu this week: http://soupnancy.squarespace.com/menus/ or visit www.jardinssauvages.com

Enclosure

Market treats

One major bonus about my François des bois being at Jean Talon market (besides him being out of my hair) is that he comes home every day with something great to eat. He’s always been good at that, but now it’s not just greens. He is so conveniently close to a dazzling array of fresh ingredients, some sources that we know and love already, among others that he is discovering by the day.

Gaspé style cooked lobster from AtkinsI would never think to buy my lobster cooked, but François convinced me that this guy at Atkins really knows how to cook lobster and he cooks hundreds a day (big ones!), in highly seasoned water in the Gaspé style (with sea salt and seaweed) – and he was right, it’s pretty damn good. Visit Les Delices de la Mer on the south side of the specialty aisle. The lobster kiosk is across from the main store, which is also a good source of fish, scallops and shrimp in season. They aren’t just purveyors of fish, they are actual fishermen and family here..

nutmeg from Philippe de VienneKnowing how much I love spices, François brought me some nutmeg from Philippe de Vienne’s shop (which has been a gaga place of mine since it opened years ago). I carried my jar of 'noix du paradis' around for days, taking a sniff every now and again, even sleeping next to it. The nutmeg was still in its shell so it shook like a rattle and smelled like malted chocolate, vanilla and spice. When I cracked one open, the most fragrant little nutmeg ball was revealed, which grating became a pure joy - I’ve never tasted nutmeg like this. I finally understood the subtleties in difference between mace and nutmeg, having the juxtaposition in my face. I honestly could not stop grating or smelling it or talking about how much I loved it. You could tell François was pleased with his buy; he may as well as given me a diamond ring.

Philippe de Vienne’s Olive et Épices is THE store for olive oils, spices and beautiful kitchen knickknacks/gifts. His other store, La Depense a few doors down is also an interesting stop for curious minds, and a good source for specialty and ethnic dry goods. Say, gram flour or Israeli couscous..

I feel fortunate to have a steady supply of dry ham (proscuitto) from the Cochon tout rond (whose stall is right next to François’), whom I’ve already mentioned here at least once; I also love their chorizo. Their proscuitto has become a staple in our fridge, amazing as a part of a late night charcuterie/cheese platter in lieu of dinner or in a salad, pasta, or atop pizza.

François loves his veal chops, and that means regular visits to Veau de Charlevoix (Charlevoix veal), pricy but worth it. On another night, it could be organic suckling pig from Pork Meilleur; both these are in the specialty aisle.. Fermes Nord-Est close by has small production natural meats too, such as bison, beef and chicken.. François has yet to bring some home - we can’t be eating meat every night after all, but I have visited their farm, met them and know I can recommend them.

He’s also regularly coming home with a new cheese he’s discovered either from Qui Lait Cru or Fromagerie Hamel.. His latest buys were meant to impress me, and they did, but thanks to Yannick I already knew them.. There was the new Baluchon Reserve from Ste-Anne de la Pérade and the Bleu d’Elizabeth from the townships, as well as my beloved Alfred de Compton, his default addition to make sure I was pleased, I guess.  There is also the Tomme de Marechal and the La Moutonnière farmer's sheep's milk cheeses who have stalls of their own in the specialty or organic aisle (Le Clos Vert, Le Soupçon de Bleu (a creamy blue), and the classic La Moutonnière bleu (which I prefer).

For the organic milk he likes, he goes to a little Produits du Terroir shop in the specialty aisle, next to the olives place. He brought me delicious fresh yogurt in a glass jar from there too that I used in a panna cotta that was so exceptionally tasty, I figured it must be the yogurt.  About those olives next door - delish! Especially the goat cheese stuffed green ones.   

Being the fruit lovers we are, we have our spots for fruit even off season (we lose locavore points here). Of course, I put up our rhubarb and wild berries for use at the restaurant, but I do enjoy the odd fresh berry in the morning off season, and well, François power eats fruit all the time. We get most of our seasonal fruit in the country, but in between, a few good sources at the market are key; especially at this time of year, where it’s summer just about everywhere else - it’s hard to resist the taste of a good melon, cherry or pear when it’s been so long.. François is very fussy about his fruit, and takes much care in selecting each piece (he is very good at sniffing out that perfect melon). He likes Eric Lecuyer ‘Le King’ on the north side of the second aisle for a reliable assortment of berries; in season, he has everything from blueberries to currants to ground cherries. For mangos, melons, pears and apples, he likes Trottier, that famously long established family of apple growers, and apparently they usually have good Quebec tomatoes too. They have a few locations around the market, the main one being in the main cross aisle.

At the moment, Jacques et Diane Remillard are selling potted plants, herbs and such in the third aisle, but at the height of summer, they will be in their regular space in the second aisle selling their vegetables and herbs.. They are old friends of François’ and a favourite source of harvest vegetables for us.

Then, there are the farm fresh eggs form Chez Petrin that arrive daily; they also sell honey, maple, and strangely enough (but very useful to know), the beans for cassoulet, all varieties of dry beans in fact.

Once and a while, the women in François’ life get treated to a bouquet of fresh flowers from Chez Daniel, but I like the more frequent wild ones just as much..

There is always the Marché des Saveurs for Anicet’s honey and Cuvée du Diable honey wine, which I love to cook with since L’Eau à la Bouche, or for some other Quebec product I need for a menu, be it cider or Quebec style porto.. Of course, they have much more than booze, it being THE place to shop for Quebec ingredients and gifts, to bring visiting friends, or when you just want to discover or rediscover some new Quebec product.

Perhaps François is so good at surveying the market because he’s not at his stall; I suspect that the girls (Isabelle, Marie Claude and Stéphanie) are doing the bulk of the work while he schmoozes.. You have to understand that he spent much of the nineties here as a farmer who also happened to sell some weird, wild things on the side (which is where Normand Laprise discovered him), so he knows the market, the long established businesses, the family farmers from the peddlers (as he calls the distributor/sellers who don’t know farming and get all their stuff at the Marché Centrale). As a result, he can spot the ruses, the sheisters, the places I now know I should NOT shop at..

Now that’s a real forager for you - as good at the market as in the woods.. François du Marché meets François des Bois - Lucky me.

François and all his foraging greatness aside, there is more to the market than what HE likes.. I like Birri (and so do other people I know who are serious about their food) for all their specialty veg and herbs. I remember the day a couple of years ago when I happened upon their stall (in the first aisle, center), which was spilling over with a variety of beautiful eggplants and squash laid out in their glory.. Granted it was late summer abundance, heirloom tomatoes and all, but I spent over an hour there fondling the stuff, walking off with more than I could carry, elated by the freshness and beauty of my original finds.

There’s the mainstay Capitol, one of my friend Barb’s favourite spots for meat, cheese and miscellaneous dry goods. Of course, she is dating an Italian guy, but he’s a cook and she’s a market regular.. I second that it would make a handy épicerie if you live in the area, especially if you’re into charcuterie, cheese, antipasto and pasta (who isn’t?). She also claims that the new pizza place (Venizzia) on the northwest side of the market is amazing, can’t wait to check it out.

I can’t help but mention Pain Doré; even if they can be spotty, and seem to have suffered as a brand in expansion versus the compounding competition. Everyone seems to prefer Premier Moisson or some artisanal bakery but if in the vicinity, I still gravitate towards Pain Doré for a ham sandwich or a baguette. Maybe it’s nostalgic since I once long ago ate a Parisien (ham, butter and dijon ) with great satisfaction daily. They don’t make it quite the same anymore and now the sandwiches seem to always be made in advance (?!), but the memory lasts.. Or maybe it’s just because I like their bread. I swear I do. It’s happened that I’ve been in some far off restaurant in a village in the Charlevoix or in the Laurentians and loved the bread; where do you get your bread, I ask? Every time, Pain Doré, mademoiselle.. It hasn’t happened lately, but still, I’m loyal.

And being the sucker for books that I am, I have a hard time not dipping into the cookbook store when at the market.. Anne Fortin’s store at the east entrance to the new wing reminds me of a French version of the cookbook store in TO in feel, with its small quarters stacked with a rich and wide array of titles and topics for the serious food book lover.. Digging is required, but many gems are to be found, in both official languages.. She has also opened a used-bookstore nearby, L’Occasion Gourmande (366 rue de Castelneau Est, 514-759-9143).

One last treat from the market is the TV show upstairs, Des Kiwis et des Hommes, a Radio Canada morning food/variety/talk show (that thankfully replays late night) hosted by the lovable duo, Boucar Diouff and Francis Reddy. They have a weekly host chef cooking, as well as other guests including artists, politicians, activists, interesting people all round, and for an hour and a half, they hang around the kitchen and chat about current events, sit at the table to attack a philosophical topic of the day or talk about music; they regularly tour the market and visit farmers, they clown around and stop to offer food for thought.. It’s an eclectic show that does border on cheesy at times, but definitely grows on you. I am mostly fond of it because it takes place at the market and exudes that market spirit, alive with the pulse of the people and food in all its diversity, throughout the ups, downs and intricacies of real life. They entertain and remind us of the good things in life at our fingertips in the heart of the city.

In short, I hope I've given you enough good reasons to visit the market, Jean Talon in particular, today!