The 2009 Christmas List - Try A Little Entertainment

This may not come as a surprise to some, but apparently I have not been as diligent as I had thought in publishing the annual "What to get the Food Lover" Christmas List. In fact, there's only been one and that was in December 2005, see: A (God Forbid) List. The interesting thing is that when I reread that list I realized that it is as valid today as it was then- so check it out for even more ideas. But times do change, so if you're stuck for something this year, here are some thoughts for 2009:

Number 1 - A Meat Hammer

I keep meaning to write a post on Roulade because, in my estimation, it provides serious "Food ROI" - see the ROI of Cooking, August 2005. A half butterfly pork chop pounded to a width of 1 or 2mm, a light spreading of pesto, a tomato that has been slow roasted for 3 hours, some leeks that have sweated in butter, some grated goat cheese - roll, tie off, sear and then into the oven for 15 to 20 minutes. That is all of 10 minutes work and is just one of many options for a roulade. And nothing gives satisfaction in a kitchen like the idea that you're bashing in the noggin of some evil Cromwell-like character from work. . . but you need a good meat hammer.

Number 2 - An insulated pot handle holder

This is a must. I don't actually own a pair of oven mits - I find them to be encumbering, and I'm always afraid that I'll drop the damn casserole that I'm pulling out of the oven - so I use bar towels instead. But for anyone who has a gas stovetop, an insulated pot holder seriously mitigates swearing. They're generally fabric or silicone - I'm not a big fan of silicone (uhmmm. . . for kitchen things) so mine is fabric.

Number 3 - A copy of "The Big Night"
If you've never seen it, this is a classic. Beyond the fact that it stars Minnie Driver (should be no surprise to some, I love Minnie Driver), Tony Shalhoub, Isabella Rossellini and Stanley Tucci, it is one of the all time great Food Movies, with some fantastic dialogue. . . and romance. It is a perfect gift for the food lover in your life.

If you don't crave Italian food after you've watched this, then I feel very sorry for you!

Number 4 - A Chopping Board
I'm sure everyone has a chopping board - possibly two. I have 5 , plus 3 bread boards. There's nothing that makes clean-up easier, and cooking safer, than a range of chopping boards - different sizes and different materials: a large one for everyday counter activity, like cutting vegetables, a little one for slicing garlic, and a medium one that lets you cut up a chicken without food transfer. They go right in to the dishwasher. And if you go on road trips it's always handy to take one with you - you never know when you might want to pick up a bottle of wine, some cheese, pate and a good baguette, and have dinner in the hotel room rather than spend $150 at the restaurant around the corner.

Number 5 - A Salt Pig

I have no clue where this thing got its name, and for the longest time I saw no purpose in having one. But I got tired of spooning out the salt from the box when I was cooking - and using a salt shaker, well. . . ya, 'nough said. In my kitchen counter space is at a premium, so I have a small porcelain Salt Pig by Emile Henry - I like the bright colours they offer. It is so convenient to have salt right at your finger tips, at any time.

Number 6 - The Hand-held Mandoline

This is one of those things in the kitchen that you probably don't think you need until you get one. The ability to quickly slice anything, paper thin - from radishes to celery to garlic - is unbelievably liberating. Sure, you can brag about your knife-skills and do it the traditional way, but no one is going to know about it - this is just fast and convenient. It's important, however, to get a good one. Make sure it has an adjustable blade, and is solid. I recommend one made by Kuhn Rikon.

Number 7 - Knife Sharpener
I don't use my knife sharpener very often, but when I start to curse and disrupt the karma because my Chef's knife messes up a tomato it is really nice to have it around. It is one of those things in the kitchen that you will instantly appreciate - there is nothing more frustrating to someone who cooks than dull knives. Ok, perhaps someone who responds "ya, it's good", is a little worse. But dull knives suck! I have a Waring Pro KS80 Professional Sharpener and it's great - it has two sharpening wheels (fine and course), and a buffer. It's simple to use, safe and super convenient. They're not expensive, so don't scrimp on quality.

Number 8 - A Good Book
There are so many great books out there about peoples' experiences in the kitchen. I touched on some of them in my recent blog "Nothing Like a Good Book". Any one of those would make a great little gift - although you may not be able to talk to your partner until they're finished. But one that I didn't mention that is a real must for any serious Food Geek, is Harold McGee's, On Food and Cooking, The Science and Lore of the Kitchen. This is the bible for serious cooks - it's not about recipes, it's about science and cooking: the differences in milk (ie: cow, goat, yak), and how they influence cooking. If your partner throws a temper tantrum when the sauce splits in the last 5 seconds before serving, throws the sauciere in to the sink, and sulks for 5 minutes, threatening to order pizza rather than "serve that crap" , then you may want to consider this.

Number 9 - A Fresh Truffle
This has to be planned in advance, but is a great gift that you pick up a few days before Christmas. It may seem terribly extravagant to spend $35 on a mushroom - well, a fungus - but it is a unique gift. Now, truffles come from many parts of the World; the one's we're most familiar with are those that pigs hunt out in Provence, or parts of Italy. One of these can set you back $100 or more. But Himalayan truffles are an excellent, lower priced, alternative that you can usually find in the $25 to $35 range. Speak to Isaac at the Byward Fruit Market ; but check in advance to make sure he knows you're looking for one. If all else fails you can pull together some truffle substitutes, which can be fun: a preserved truffle in oil (not nearly as good as a fresh one, but a fair substitute), cheese with truffle shavings (Nicastro's), truffle oil, truffle infused pasta (Rustichella D'Abruzzo - also from Nicastro's), or even a chocolate Truffle Pig.

Number 10 - A Knife
Okay, this isn't original, but it's on my Christmas List - who can't use a second Cook's Knife? I have a good Wusthof - the 8" Cook's Knife - Classic; nothing fancy - no Japanese tempered steel - just a good solid chefs knife that feels right in the hand. However, I am intrigued right now by the idea of a knife with a scalloped, or "granton edge". The idea is that the small scallops in the blade create air pockets between the knife and whatever is being sliced, making for a cleaner and faster cut, in part because the item is less inclined to stick to the blade; apparently they'll also retain their edge longer. There's nothing new here - these have been around for ages - I just don't happen to have one because I'm so in love with my classic Wusthof. But as I look to a second Cook's Knife I think I would consider this - anything to reduce the potential for swearing is good!

So those are my ten ideas for 2009. Of course, when it comes to the kitchen opportunities abound. A couple of weeks back I was visiting my sister and she pulled out her juicer, you know, to help squeeze the juice from a lemon, in this case. It was a simple plastic measuring cup with a juicer on top - and it was ideal - the best juicer I have used. So if none of the ideas I've given here suit your fancy, or any of the one's from my posting in 2005, just wander in to a good kitchen store and walk around - it's kinda like being in a hardware store: you're going to walk out with something.

Nothing Like A Good Book

One of the things I love to get at Christmas is a book. There's nothing like sitting down and having the whole day to pour over a new book, with no interruptions - a day of total relaxation. . . yes, for all you parents, I live in a fantasy world. . . but then I'm sure they'll look after you in your retirement. . . or something like that!

I particularly like books about food - not cookbooks, but books about the subject of "Food". This can encompass something singular, like Mark Kurlanski's popular history of Salt, to something more encompassing - Jeffrey Steingarten's irreverent collection of short articles on all subjects "food": It Must Have Been Something I Ate.

I think what attracts me about books like these is that they give you an insight into another side of cooking. Learning about an ingredient, like Salt or Oysters (another Kurlansky book), or Lobsters (Trevor Corson's Secret Life of Lobsters), or the darker side of chocolate (Carol Off's Bitter Chocolate) or the world of pirating and poaching Black Cod (Hooked: Pirates, Poaching and the Perfect Fish, Bruce Knecht), is their ability to convey an appreciation of the ingredients that you use in the kitchen.

There's a great story that Michael Ruhlman recounts in his book about the journey through the Master Chef exam, The Soul of a Chef. He tells about the day Thomas Keller had to kill a rabbit with his bare hands; I referred to this story in an earlier blog posting Run Rabbit Run (Feb 2008):

Keller "was alone in the grass with eleven cute little bunnies. . . soft fur, long ears, little pink noses, warm yearning eyes. . . rabbits scream. . . and this one screamed really loud. . . it was awful experience he said. He tried to kill it but the rabbit was screaming so loud and struggling to get away the work was difficult. Then the rabbit's leg snapped as it struggled to get away. So while it was still terrified and now likely in great pain, it could no longer get away, and Keller managed to kill it! " And that taught him Respect! "He took the Life, and so he wouldn't waste it".

To me, this is what these books are about. They're entertaining and relaxing, but they tell a different side of the kitchen: what some had to go through to become great chefs, like Keller or Jacques Pepin (The Apprentice: My Life in the Kitchen) or Mario Batali (Heat, Bill Buford); or the process of becoming a great chef, Making of a Chef: Mastering Heat at the Culinary Institute of America, by Michael Ruhlman.

So, as an alternative to a cookbook this year, maybe turn to something related, but different.

Top Ten Wounds

I'm done with writing for the time being - at least until I take it to the next level and get money for it - so this is the season to Blog! We're almost in to December and you know that means a time for lists. But before I roll out my second annual "must have" Christmas List for the gourmand (ok, I skipped last year), I'm going to put out my ten most painful Kitchen Wounds . . . "it's called "wounded", Peanut. Injured is when you fall out of a tree or something."

For clarification, these are all things that can be prevented, but for the seven deadly cooking sins (stupidity, impatience, greed, ego, hunger, vanity, pride, and sloth). So in no particular order, but all from personal experience:

1) Bumping your head on the corner of the Stove hood.

The downside of renovating a kitchen - seriously upgrading appliances so that you need a hood vent that powers a fan like a Pratt & Whitney engine can power an Airbus A-320 - is that the corner of the hood tends to attract a forehead like. . . well, like a Pratt & Whitney engine attracts a bird.

2) The burn

This is the simple, stupid, "fuck am I an idiot" type wound - the result of reaching over and grabbing the metal handle of a pot that's been steaming vegetables or boiling potato's. It's intensified by anyone who decided to go for "gas": nothing heats up a pot handle like gas (they don't tell you that in a marketing brochure)!

3) The steam burn

Now, this is a special type of burn - it is attributed to impatience and ego. . . as in, I wonder if it's done, and God I bet it looks good!

4) The butter burn

Ok, you've got your fancy frying pan, you're cooking with gas, and you're pan-frying a medley of autumn harvest vegetables in butter, and you feel inclined to flip them - just like they do on the Food Network. Here's a tip, butter doesn't splatter, it splashes. . . in great puddles. . . that hurt like crap when they land on your arm. . . in puddles! And the only thing that makes this type of wound worse? It's when the piece that hasn't quite melted is the piece that lands on your arm - it leaves purple scars, still visible after two years.

5) The Chili burn

Unlike the tears caused by onions which are just a natural part of cooking, made less harmful by a really sharp knife, the chili burn is the result of not paying attention. You're whipping up the perfect meal- not necessarily Mexican or Thai, just one that demands a little heat - and in a moment of vanity you brush the hair out of your eyes. . . and for the next two hours you're pouring cold water onto your eye as you try to hold your eyelid open. . . it was a fricken' Scotch Bonnet!

6) Grating a digit

I don't get this - everyone who has used a grater must have grated a "digit" - probably the knuckle of the thumb. And as the graters get smaller, ideal for zesting a lemon or shredding garlic, the propensity to include a touch of skin increases. So why is it that no one has created a knuckle-guard. A grated thumb-knuckle really fuckin' hurts.

7) The knife cut

It may seem strange, but I am a big fan of the knife cut - or slice. In my mind, this is the least painful, albeit most common, kitchen wound. If you've got some Band Aids handy (which every serious chef should) then with a little cold water, a paper towel and a bandage, you'll be back in business within a couple of minutes. A good sharp knife is the key: if you haven't cut yourself lately, then you're not trying hard enough.

8) The Shuck

Ok, the "Shuck" is a serious wound - if you succumb to this you want it to happen before the third glass of wine - 'cause you're probably going to end up at Emergency. By the very technique that an oyster is shucked, you're likely going to stab yourself quite well - and the angle of attack is ideal for an artery-slicing wound; if you're lucky, you'll escape with a good indentation in to the fleshy part of your thumb which, surprisingly, yields a fair amount of blood.

9) The mandoline slice

I have to admit, I have yet to succumb to this wound - a friend of mine has. And in his telling I could only see one advantage - the mandoline slices off pieces of flesh; so the scar from that grated knuckle that you suffered two wounds ago may eventually go unnoticed!

10) The Shard wound

I believe the Shard wound is due to poor planning, lack of concentration and age. . . ok, maybe not age, maybe slow reactions. There's nothing that creates great drama, the thrill of victory, the agony of defeat, like the Olympian efforts to catch a falling glass before it hits the counter or smashes on the floor. And while the entrance wound itself goes virtually unnoticed, trying to extricate a sliver of glass from that little fleshy part between the thumb and forefinger is akin to strip mining your hand; and it will pretty much ruin any meal plan.

And there you go. My ten least favorite kitchen wounds.

In my humble experience, the trick to surviving these and moving on with the meal is some good, solid cussing, paper towel. . . and an understanding spouse!

Something to Tweet About

I'm sure those who are in to the latest on the Social Media's will tell me this is something I should tweet about - but I forgot my login details so it's on my blog instead. Here's a tip - if you're a cheese buff, like I am, check out La Bottega (Nicastro's) on George St. on Saturdays. They have a cheese-of-the-week that is amazingly priced. It's not always a cheese to my liking (I know, for me, that's kinda like saying "well yes, I know she's hot, but don't you think her hair is just a touch too short!"), but every second or third Saturday they stock an amazingly well priced 6-year old Cheddar. If you've never had a 6- year old cheddar, this is the type of stuff that doesn't slice delicately - but it crumbles beautifully. Nicastro's obviously buys a lot of it - it's a Perron Cheddar, and it is priced at $21.99 per Kilo; that means a 440 gm block (a good size - 1 inch by 5) for $9.59. This is a great price for a good, well aged cheddar.

Try selling that in a tweet!

The Power of Upsell

If you've travelled to the States lately, and gone out for dinner, there's probably a pretty good chance that after you've settled on what you'd like to eat for your main course you've been offered three or four more opportunities to add to your order.

"I'd like the 10 oz prime, with baked potato and cauliflower; oh, and could I get some chives and sour cream for the potato please."

"Absolutely, and how would you like your steak done?"

"Oh, medium rare, please. . . on the rare side of medium rare please."

"Yes sir. And would you like some baked beans with your steak, sir?"

"No, that's fine thanks, just the potato will do."

"Yes sir. Would you like another vegetable - some creamed spinach perhaps?"

"No, that's fine thank you. The cauliflower is fine."

"Very good sir. Perhaps I could interest you in some grits."

etc. . . etc. I'm sure most of us have been there!

Now, I'm a big fan of Swiss Chalet - particularly when I get home late and it's 8:00 P.M. before I've even had a chance to sit down. Crisp chicken skin is up there with the bacon course. But the Quarter Chicken dinner just doesn't cut it, even with fries and creamy coleslaw. For Kim, it's fine - though she passes on the coleslaw. So I generally order the half chicken, fries, white bun and coleslaw.

And so it was tonight (or will be when it arrives in forty minutes). That's a pretty hefty meal for a guy like me - and is probably contributing to the increased speculation from family and co-workers about weight gain (I'm ignoring any contributing factors relating to my intake of beer and cheese and blaming it on medication). So, I'd like to ask, what makes the menu planners at Swiss Chalet think that I'm going to want pirogies with that half chicken?

In my mind, if you're going to upsell me, upsell me with a desert. . . chicken, fries, white bun, coleslaw and pirogies, with a cheese sauce on the side. That shit ain't right!

I Want My Corner Store Back!

I think sometime in the past, back when I was actually blogging, that I made some reference to the value of a good corner store (see: When All Else Fails). I've lived in my neighbourhood now for close to fifteen years and until recently it met everything required of the realtor's "prime location": relatively quiet street (except during Frosh Week and on Canada Day), walking distance to downtown restaurants, within two blocks of a pub, within three blocks of a university and in close proximity to a great corner store.

I actually live within two short blocks of two corner stores - your basic, Heinz Ketchup/French's Mustard-the-latest-issue-of-People-Magazine style corner store, and the Uber corner Store.

Now, as you would expect, the Uber Corner Store had everything I would need, at any time of day, and at most times of the night. When I say this, I'm not exaggerating. I have found whole black pepper corns, vine leaves, tahini, artichokes, avocados, coconut milk, Thai red chili paste, green chili paste and, on occasion, Racing News.

But on a cold April morning earlier this year two fire engines came screaming down the street and halted outside Ayoub's. At the time, I was just heading out to work, so I missed the drama that was unfolding a hundred yards down the street; but when I got home later that day (it was getting dark as I had not yet moved in to marketing), Ayoub's was a shell of it's former glory.

Fast forward six months: I am about to barbecue a whole, deboned chicken that I've had marinating in Indian spices for two days, and at the last minute I want to switch out Basmati rice for pappadums. The larder is bare!

For those of you waiting for some happy ending - like, French's mustard store had recognized a market gap, seized the initiative and swooped in to fill the demand, capturing market share that my friend Ayoub would be hard pressed to recoup - go back to the paper. . . there is nothing but disappointment.

Ode to live in a neighbourhood with an Uber Corner Store. And for all you Glebeites and Ottawa South folk, I know what time the stores close in your neck of the woods!

And what of it??!!

To those of you who know me it should come as no surprise that I've been accused of being arrogant - a comment usually followed by a noun! On occasion it's combined with an adjective, presumptuous perhaps! Conveyed with enough emotion (slamming doors help - airborne glass for sure), it has been known to make me pause, ponder recent behaviour, and consider amends. . . consider!

The other night I mentioned to a colleague that I rarely went out for dinner (boy's nights out aside); I'm pretty sure I detected an inquisical scoff.

Yes, I'm a person who loves food - and I enjoy experiencing what local chefs have on fare. But it's true, I would much rather spend three hours in the kitchen, listening to some great tunes while Kim finishes off yet another book, and then together enjoy the fruits of the labour in front of the fire rather than spend $200 and take a cab ride home.

And while I have my share of spectacular and entertaining failures, I believe confidently (perhaps misguidedly so) that there is very little on any local menu that I can not match.

Early this evening I pulled out the stove top smoker and, using ash chips, smoked a 3lb piece of Alberta beef filet - which I later finished on the barbecue to give it a crunchy edge; I served this atop a puree of parsnip and potato, with seared carrots and green beans. Around the side was a reduced sauce - red wine, stock, herbs, butter. I served it with an old world Syrah - a 2005 Crozes Hermitage.

On a menu it would have read:

Ash smoked filet of Alberta beef on a puree of PEI potatoe and autumn parsnips, with grilled heirloom carrots and haricots vert.

And that would have been my selection - I would have paid $28 for it and, followed by a cheese plate and a glass of 20 year old Tawny port, I would have recommended it to a friend.

An Epicurean Play, in Twelve Acts

Over the last two weeks I've had the pleasure of dining at two of Ottawa's newest restaurants: Play Food and Wine, and Atelier. Typically when you go to two top restaurants within ten days there are things in common between the two and you are easily lulled into comparing one preparation of fois gras to the other's - or these days pork belly, short ribs or steak frites. And had the second visit been to Navarra or Black Cat I could easily fall in to this trap. But beyond the hype factor created by a second Stephen Beckta opening and Marc Lepine's evolutionary leap after six years at The Courtyard (I was turned off by this 80's vintage haven for the Greyhound crowd, so I lack objectivity), there is little in common.

Ron Eade wrote extensively about Marc Lepine in a series of November articles on his blog Ominovore's Ottawa, so I was somewhat prepared for the journey in molecular gastronomy and the secrets behind his kitchen. But having seen this before at the now defunct Black Cat on Clarence, under the mantle of Rene Rodriguez, recently of Navarra fame, who played with the concept with mixed results, I was a little skeptical as to how far this journey would take me. The event that brought Kim and me (and two friends) to Atelier was their Anti-Valentine dinner (for which appropriately Kim picked up the tab - I fearing that my visa card would once again be rejected). When our waitress, Erin, came to the table and constructed our centrepiece by dipping a rose into a bucket of dry ice and smashing it on the table, I thought we were off to a good start.

Over the next 4 and a half hours (as the evening progressed I appreciated why our reservation was for 6 o'clock), we were guided through a tour of chef-meets-chemistry lab, each course fitting in to the antipodean love theme. Essential to appreciating what was brought before us was a serving staff that could describe each dish in detail, and its preparation, along with a very good understanding of the wine paring. Making best use of the tools of his trade, such as an anti-griddle and immersion circulator, Chef Lepine kept us entertained with courses that were unique, playful, and tended to contrast taste sensations.

These ranged from a bold starter, a "cold-hearted creamsicle", a heart-shaped creamy lemon (vodka) popsicle, made on an anti-griddle, that had a sprinkling of bright yellow whitefish roe to provide a wonderful salty contrast to the tart lemon cream; to a surprisingly mellow Nitro Noodle Soup - a butternut squash soup with a togarashi chili spice blend, in which noodles made of a crab apple puree that had been nitro-frozen, steamed from the bowl to offer dramatically contrasting temperatures. Another course featured an oyster that rested on a very small piece of lemon topped with a frozen sambal chili-based hot sauce and a very small leaf of cilantro. It was served on a clothespin-like spoon that pinned a piece of star anise designed to provide a hint of licorice scent and balanced in a piece of PVC tubing. In this case the chili sauce was a brilliant contrast to the salty oyster and tart lemon with the cilantro offering a freshness to contrast the heat of the frozen chili.

Following a course that witnessed the wait staff brandishing a fishing rod with a small piece of albacore tuna baited on a fish hook that had marinated in maple syrup, pan seared and then drizzled with caramel and chives, there was an interesting palette cleanser (Yellow Snow), made from granulated frozen coconut with a shot of concentrated pineapple juice syringed over top; there followed a mushroom plate (winter mushroom, eryngii and, if I recall, oyster), pared with a small glass of sake - and while I found the mushrooms unspectacular, and for some reason oddly out of place, there was a wonderful cellophane thin piece of carrot that literally melted in my mouth.

The clear winner of the two meat courses was a bison steak that had been prepared sous vide and then pan seared. This was done perfectly - it was tender, the very rare side of medium, and was loaded with flavour; accompanying the bison was a puree of sunchoak, finely sliced beets and a thin cylinder of purple potato.

The three dishes that remained were the "sweet deserts" that, consistent with the theme, were anything but! The first was a remarkable interpretation of nachos: it consisted of a small cheesecake on a crust of crumbed corn chips topped with a few shards of sharp cheddar, an incredibly subtle frozen salsa (with a piece of salsa paper), a smear of guacamole, sour cream ice cream, fiely chopped black olives and some dried jalapeno powder. Nothing in this dish was sweet and yet it all held together as one might expect from a cheese course.

The second was the chocolate course, which featured a hollow bitter chocolate heart smashed by our waitress Erin(a broken heart), that oozed a sour cranberry sauce accompanied on the side by cranberries, a small heart shaped brownie and two soft spicy cinnamon hearts.

The penultimate desert was an intense display of acidity centred around lemon, lime and orange. This consisted of jellied lime, two torched meringue and a dominant centrepiece of frozen lemon foam that bore a unique shape. And touching off the evening was the "Don't be Cruel" truffle, a homage to Elvis, that featured a white chocolate truffle filled with banana and peanut butter, and covered with a sprinkling of bacon bits.

Accompanying the bill was a Dear John letter! And there endith dinner at Atelier: an interesting evening, with. . . very interesting dishes!

I think anyone who is seriously interested in food, willing to try new things and up to spending $300 for dinner (for two), should block off an evening at some point and make a reservation at Atelier. It is truly an experience. But I'm not likely to go back anytime soon - at least not without virgin Atelier diners; this is an evening of extraordinary culinary entertainment where the shared experience is as important, if not more so, than the food - the wonderment of what can be done. But it doesn't easily fit in to the traditional definition of a meal - it is not "dinner out" - it is a show, where one walks away fascinated, amused, satsified with the performance. . . and surprisingly full.