Living without the Java

With the whole incubating life thing happening I’ve been trying to broaden my hot drink horizons beyond the coffee, the only view I’ve had most of my adult life. While coffee isn’t exactly banned from the diet of the gestating, it is frowned upon, and The Banker now starts backing squawking noises everytime I reach for the java. Much easier and more conducive to domestic tranquillity to take a caffeine hiatus for nine months. The three points I quickly found out in my post caffeine awareness were (in order); 1) the speed of my speech is highly connected java intake – I now sound more like a grown up person, less like a chipmunk 2) Decaf doesn’t cut it. Really. Ever. It’s just not the same 3) I still have the urge to be holding and sipping a steamy drink. I imagine this is like ciggie smokers who once quit are forever sticking tooth picks and other oblong objects in their mouths.

So to assuage my beverage fixation I moved on to the other heavy of the café world – tea. Strictly speaking tea is a bit of a lateral move in the attempt to avoid caffeine – lower octane then the java generally but still leaded. However if we move past the drinks made with the traditional tea pant Camilla Sinensis (Black tea, White tea and Green Tea) there are options to consider. Now before I get clobbered by the technically correct police, I know that I’ve wandered outside the classical boundaries of tea but today I’m going to be a heretic. So back to my quest of beverage – automatically out are the fruit teas which seem to have proliferated lately. I enjoy my fruit juice cold; steaming strawberries just doesn’t do it for me. I wanted something a little complex, something interesting and grown up – not sweet simple and cheerful.

My grail was found at The House of Tea, a truly charming store in Rosedale. The proprietress was both interested in my plight and fully versed in her stock; within minutes the choices were narrowed down. Red teas, made with the Roobis plant, had underwhelmed me on previous occasions but with the addition of bergamot the red earl grey developed a more interesting profile and counteracted the sweetness I’ve always found off-putting about the drink. This was what I wanted – something to wake up with and be neither slammed with flavor nor lured back to sleep.

Now onto the wine substitute……

The House of Tea

1017 Yonge Street

Toronto, ON M4W 2K9

(416) 922-1226

Pasta Imperfection

Making fresh pasta is not something you should feel compelled to do unless you enjoy it. While their are certain things in the kitchen where the cost to benefit ratio is so high that even if I don’t particularly feel like doing the work I’ll force my lazy self to because the result is so much better than the purchased equivalent (i.e. stock, pasta is not like that. While it isn’t hard work, it does take a fair amount of time and require a lot of fiddly maneuvering with the delicate noodles. If that doesn’t sound like a swell afternoon to you, I recommend buying some good fresh pasta at the grocer: making it will annoy you and the meal will taste of frustration. That being said I enjoy the process. It’s a kick producing refined and pretty noodles from such rough beginnings.
If you are into trying to making your own pasta, do it in bulk. That way you can enjoy playing with the dough when the whim strikes you, freeze the bulk of it and reap the rewards for weeks. It’s much more fulfilling. I don’t get to uptight about making machine perfect pasta – how will people know it’s homemade and therefore to shower you with adoration? Much better to have a pleasant rough look about it, I think (The Banker would say I’m rationalizing my love of disorder – potatoe, potato).
For the pasta dough I rely on the 100g flour to 1 egg ratio. After kneading until the dough is lovely and supple, feed it through whatever pasta roller you have on hand (I do not recommend rolling by hand unless you are interested in the amount of muscles one’s forearms contains – do so and you’ll be acutely aware of each within an hour) Do roll through each gradient several times (I do three). Dough is not a pushover, it resists manipulation and requires plenty of encouragement. In today’s effort I made ravioli, filled with spiced butternut squash. Simply put, I lay the sheets of rolled noodles on the floured counter, plopped little balls of the filling at 3cm intervals, wet the remaining noodle surface and folded it over to close the envelop. You can get little gadgets to make this ultra uniform, but again that goes against everything I believe in, both in and out of the kitchen.
Freezing is not tricky. Best practice is to lay the ravioli on a floured baking sheet, not touching, and only after the little suckers are completely frozen, transfer the noodles to bags. Spending the time and effort only to have your efforts coagulate into one doughy ball can be the definition of frustration – avoid it. To make table ready drop in salted boiling water for around 5 min, mix with desired sauce and serve.

Union Gets the Big Three

I’ve struggled to write about Union, the new kid on the Ossington block. For one thing almost everybody already has and in glowing praises. At The Post, Gina Mallet, who typically hates everything, loves it. Corey Mintz, generally a kinder softer soul, also rains down the accolades. And even Chris John over at the Globe (whom I really don’t pay attention to) gives the fledgling resto a solid thumbs up. Winning the praise of triad of Canadian media is no small feat; I think Claudio Aprile may have done it years ago with Colburne Lane but if memory serves Gina was a little more cranky and a lot less adoring (for the record I find an adoring Ms Mallet to be a little scary – it screws with the natural order of things). However done it has been and Chef/Owner Paul Teo not only pulled the hat trick with the critics he also created unheard of anticipation of through the use of his Blog detailing the tumultuous (and much delayed) birth of his baby. In fact, in light of the sheer volume of the press generated I Mr. Teo ever wants to get out of the culinary sphere I see a shining future for him in PR land.
So finding something new, something original, to say in the storm of words is tricky. If I had a contrary viewpoint, some disclaimer to rebut the written masses maybe it would be easier. Fact is, Union deserves its accolades. It is simple, clean with an interesting menu that is exceptional. Fully and completely the real deal. Better yet it has one of the rarest qualities in a Toronto eating establishment; a committed and knowledgeable staff. Never, outside of being served by the owner, have I had servers guide me through the menu, both food and wine, with such enthusiasm and care. And when The Banker couldn’t resist the oysters and added an impromptu third course the server actually beamed as she contemplated the wine he already was drinking (a lovely limey sauvignon) and the shellfish matching up. These are people who know their stuff and take great pains to ensure that the meal that you eat at their establishment is the most enjoyable it can be.
Not to mention that the food kicks ass. It’s neither cutting edge nor predictable, instead relying on thoughtful dishes with novel touches keep both the palate and the brain engaged. The starter, a cold melon and sweet pea soup starts all sweetness in the mouth with a granita consistency. Just when you’ve written it off as a decent palate cleanser the chili oil steps up, kicking the chilled mouth into overdrive. The silky scallop garnish lends substance and a pleasing contrast, all smoothness next to the courser soup. The main I chose (as did every other reviewer) was the ribs and pork belly. If it was up to me the ribs themselves would have been a more than sufficient dinner. These are grown up ribs with integrity and texture – while tender and delicious they fall off no bone. The flavours are not smokehouse sweet but rather evoke bistro, a tomato base with an herbaceous depth. The pork belly was the under achiever of the meal with little to say. It did not offend but by no means met the standard of its plate mate. Starches were served family style with traditional frites sharing space with smashed potatoes.
Union, with its service and food, is at least a two trick pony. Still a baby on the Toronto scene it should be interesting to see how it deals with the weight of expectations that are now foisted upon it. I imagine if Paul Teo has managed to get this far, he may still has a few aces up his sleeve.

Cream Kills

For me this has been the Summer of Ice Cream. Inhospitable weather aside this city has seriously upped the ante in producing stellar frozen bliss and I have had to crown a new favorite. Tumultuous stuff indeed.

I have long been a devoted fan of Greg’s roasted marshmallow ice cream. It's both insanely delicious and endorsed by the New York Times (and you know how I feel about that publication). The last two years though have been a little lackluster; I fear Greg (the nicest man you’ll ever meet) has gone low fat on me. The flavor is still there, but lacking is that unctuous rich mouthful I demand from my frozen desserts. So, sadly I bid Greg’s adieu and looked for greener pastures.

Through happenstance of location I landed on the Queen East outpost of Ed’s for the bulk of the season. It’s a great spot for people watching and the gelatos are almost too pretty to eat, all vivid colours and lushness in the case. Sticking to the Italian end I have to say Ed’s never disappointed, but neither did it overwhelm. Good but not great, so the road again we hit.

Pay dirt was found not ten blocks east at Cream. Banking on becoming Toronto’s foremost provider of dairy goods Cream is serious stuff. First and foremost the ice cream is dense and flavourful, with all the flavours feeling honest, not invoked by a chemistry set. While they have some more 'out there' concepts (French toast ice cream with candied bacon?) it was the straight up chocolate that won me. This was chocolate ice cream that let the cocoa be the pronounced flavor, not dulling the lovely bitterness with sweetness. This is revolutionary. Which by the way from their literature (an ice cream place with literature – how could I not love?) they are bent on starting - a movement to bring the power of the dairy to the people of Toronto. Bringing awareness Cream is and doing and in a very, very compelling and delicious way.

This is much much better then you think it will be

I’m not a fan of vegetarian soups as a rule. With a few exceptions soups, in my opinion, need the body that the cartilage and marrow in stock give them to be truly satisfying meals. For this reason alone it’s surprising that not only did I cook the soup below but tremendously enjoyed it. It’s simple and to the point, a basic Pasta E Fagioli but it delivers in taste, heartiness and satisfaction. Moreover it’s a great way to incorporate some beans (apparently a good thing) into your diet and impress your vegetarian friends. The starch in the bean gives the dish real substance while the rosemary and onions lend significant flavor. It’s a great mid week meal with serious left over opportunities and cheap to boot.
Note – when it says salt to taste do so, and taste often. The base liquid in this soup is water with zero flavor so you want to ensure that the seasonings that you do add are sufficient to carry the dish.

Pasta E Fagoli

1 Cup of dried beans soaked overnight
½ cup of olive oil
1 onion, fine dice
3 cloves of garlic, in paste
1 teaspoon of chopped fresh rosemary (the dried stuff really doesn’t cut it in this soup)
1 cup peeled chopped tomato (or use canned if the grocery options are dismal)
¾ small pasta (think macaroni or farafelle or those cute little shells)
Grated Parmigiano-Reggiano to taste
Salt and pepper to taste

Method:

1. Rinse and simmer beans with fresh water (about 4 cm above the beans) for 1 ½ hours at a low simmer
2. In large stock pot or dutch oven heat oil at medium heat and sauté onions until transparent, then add garlic, rosemary and continue until onions have a nice golden colour. Reduce heat to low and add tomatoes and cook about 20 minutes or until the liquid in the tomatoes cooks off.
3. Add beans plus the bean cooking water, salt and pepper to taste, and simmer the whole shebang for 2 hours.
4. About 15 minute before the soup is done boil pasta a little underdone and add to the pot.
5. Serve with cheese and lots and lots of good crusty bread.

The Transition of the Theives

In the toniest part of Toronto five stores for decades have provided the pantry staples, bread & cheese, seafood, meats, fruits & vegetables and pastries (which are a staple in my house). The stores, affectionately (or not) called the Five Thieves were an institution. They were staffed by quirky characters who stuck around for years (actual butchers sold meat) and owned by operators who were deeply invested in the operations of the store – often found mopping or stocking. Regulars were known by name, and by cuisine types. The stores themselves were a bit of a muddle; all old wood counters and hidden corners. It was elitist and expensive but everything tasted amazing and everyone had a relationship with everyone else. I unabashedly, and without irony, loved those five stores. I worked for years in All The Best Fines Foods (the cheese and bread store) mooned over the perfect produce at Harvest wagon, begged the butcher for bacon on post indulgence mornings and saved all my grocery money to buy oysters at Pisces. So take whatever I write about the current state with a grain of salt; I am by no means an unbiased observer.

I have problems addressing the current state of The Five Thieves; while they are all individually alive and kicking the changes that have occurred in the last two years have indelibly changed, to me at least, the texture of the space. And some of that may not be a bad thing – the stores were spatially a mess, inaccessible to the differently abled and working off the electrical infrastructure of a bygone era. Change probably needed to happen one way or another and two years ago it happened in a big way. The stores, one by one, moved into portable trailers while the spaces underwent massive overhauling. One store Patichou, jumped the boat early to avoid the construction and moved across the street. The rest dutifully transplanted into their charmless temporary digs until their space, new and shiny, was complete. The once quaint and cozy block took on the air of an overcrowded construction zone.

Halfway through that process is where we currently are and that is the reason for this moderate angst session. From what has been completed the general gist can felt of the ‘new and improved’ Five Thieves and my general impression is, well, shiny. Lots of glass, loads of stainless steel and the industrial chic look is very strong. This wouldn’t be a negative quality in a new concept store but giving the charming old ladies such a dramatic facelift doesn’t seem to respect the bones of the original. Interlopers have also intruded into the club with a floral store adjacent to Olifes, the butcher (which was also sold to a new owner) and Montreal Bread Company taking the location formally owned by Patichou (bringing to mind the question of whether one block really needs multiple sellers of $9 sandwiches). Familiar faces are still around but the uniqueness of the establishments has been watered down.

All is not doom and gloom. Final decision must be rendered once final work is complete. I suppose I feel towards the stores much like anyone who goes back to a childhood haunt and finds that it no longer lines up with the pictures they hold in their mind. However The Five Thieves of old were more than their space – they were a small but lively community of food loving characters and eclectic and colourful customers. With any look the community will thrive again in its new shinier home.

Canning - The Final Frontier

I have a habit of not following recipes. It’s a well documented habit and one, until I learned some kitchen fundamentals, got me in a fair degree of hot water, both figurative and literal. Now as a reasonably accomplished cook I fearlessly tread into the great mystery that is intuitive cooking. Most of the time.

One big exception to my laize faire kitchen style is the great project that is home canning. Here tradition and a healthy fear of botulism keeps me lock step with whatever guide I choose, and nary a toe off the path do I tread. Perhaps it was the extensive section on food borne pathogens in Kitchen Theory 101 or an honest to god phobia of the dreaded botulism (it seems to me to be deeply unfair that something you can get from carrot juice can severe your nerve pathways) but I am nervous canner. So much so that I have been sitting on all the equipment for two years now, afraid to take the final step and actual preserve something without my mother (the world’s best jam maker) overseeing.

Well circumstances this week developed in such a way that at the same time that The Banker was making a case for the removal of all unused kitchen equipment (of which we may have an slight accumulation) an over exuberant purchase of fresh peaches sat on the verge of rot on the counter. The urge to validate my gadget shopping and save the fruit overpowered my canning dread. Action was taken.

Results? As of yet no death or destruction. The process was not nearly as hairy as expected. Once the peaches were prepped (blanched, skinned and sliced) all that was required was boiling them briefly in a simple syrup. The canning itself was strangely gratifying; once the jars were sterilized and filled they were capped, returned to the boiling water and allowed to sit there for 15 minutes. In all honesty the best part was when the jars, once removed from the water, made lovely popping sounds, indicating the seal had been set by the cooling temperatures inside. It was at that moment I felt a sense of kinship with pioneer women of old, putting food away for the dark times ahead. Which lasted exactly three days until curiosity (and hunger) overtook, and cans were opened and consumed. It was however, an extremely dark three days.

Hate the Morning No More

Generally my idea of a great weekend morning takes place outside of the home at a local where nice people come by and refill your coffee mug every five minutes. However there are times though when a leisurely breakfasting après home is called for. I am not what you would call a morning type person, particularly in the kitchen: messes in the morning make me frazzled, cranky and generally put off for the rest of the day (oddly enough the same mess at noon has no effect at all). So in the aim of domestic bliss I’ve created a routine that can – with little fanfare – create a full meal (pancakes, bacon and scrambled egg) using minimal effort and dishes. Let me share.

Pre work – make pancake mix one day when bored. Honestly this takes about four minutes out of your day and pays dividends later. Use Nigella’s recipe. It’ll change your life.

Step 1 – Lay bacon on a tinfoil lined baking sheet. Put in oven. Turn oven on at 350. Forget about bacon until kitchen is heavy with bacontastic smells.

Step 2 – In a large liquid measuring dish scoop about 1 cup of pancake mix. Add one egg. Add milk to desired constituency (I prefer a thicker batter resulting in heftier pancakes (I also don’t measure in the morning). Add whatever berries, fruits or chocolate appeal to you.

Step 3 – Put pan over med heat and melt about 1 tblsp of better. Swish around to coat pan and dump excess into pancake batter and mix in.

Step 4 – Pour batter from measuring cup onto pan in dollops. Flip when bubbly and the edges look singed. Repeat.

Step 5 – When finished all pancake batter use the same pan to fry/scramble an egg (only do this if you have The Banker or a teenage boy to feed. Otherwise pancakes and bacon should suffice).

Step 6 – Take out perfectly golden bacon from oven. Marvel at your brilliance. Plate with pancakes and an obnoxious amount of maple syrup.

Step 7 – Enjoy while reading the New York Times and drinking copious amount of coffee.

Step 8 – Make others do the (minimal) dishes.

Delicious Math

I find a certain amount of arrogance develops after you learn the kitchen fundamentals. To be more correct, I have developed a certain amount of arrogance since my days in cooking school, particularly regarding recipes. What tends to happens is once you understand the underlying principles all recipes start to look like variations on a theme. Their are of course huge exceptions to this – I would no more go off page in most baking endeavors then I would drive without GPS (and trust me on occasions where I have done either calamity has ensued). But generally in the kitchen many things become a fill in the black exercise. Let me illustrate with ice cream.

Ice cream is a flavoured frozen custard (Custard + Flavour Agent + Freezing Mechanism = Ice Cream). Custard (for our purposes here) is sweetened cream (of varying fat content) thickened with eggs (Eggs + cream + Sugar + Heat = Custard ). Flavour agent is pretty self explanatory. It can include anything from fruits, chocolate, spices to, well, anything. The sky (and your good taste) is the limit.

So my internal template for ice cream reads,

Ice Cream = (Egg(s) + Cream + Sugar + Heat) + Flavour Agent + Freezing Mechanism

Now this is where you begin to experiment. The ratio of eggs, to cream, to sugar, for the custard has to be chosen, which you can do pretty intuitively after making a few times. The fat content of the cream is another choice. High fat content equals richer end result, with a smoother mouth feel. Sometimes that’s a good thing; other times the goal is a lighter product. And, of course the type and amount of flavour you chose to inject plays a huge role in what you end up with (will it whisper or scream?). All these decisions come into play, and are in fact are fun to play with, once you understand the basic underpinning of the dish. Recipes often give you new insight into how to alter the variables, but are not a necessity in the creation of the dish.

This is why when asked by my mother for my recipe for a given dish I often respond with a blank look. Somehow I don’t think she’d be impressed with,

Blueberry Ice Cream = (2 Eggs + 1 cup of Milk + 1 cup of 18% Cream + 1/3 cup Sugar + Heat) + 1 pint puréed Blueberries + Kitchen aid mixer w/ Ice Cream attachment

Zucchini Bonding

Zucchini and eggplant are two vegetables that rarely get exposure on my tabletop. Not out of any great dislike; I think it’s a hereditary glitch passed on to me from my mother. I like them, eat them often at restaurants but just never think to incorporate them into dinner. Anyhow, this changed with a vengeance this year when The Banker came home with a face box chock full of both offenders. Always happy to receive edible I mainly stuck to the safe road and spent weeks eating roasted eggplant and zucchini with ______. Tasty and easy but getting a tad repetitive.

I wanted something interesting but requiring no more effort. As I was out of eggplant, I needed something with zucchini as the star (and possible only) player. Fun Facts about zucchini; they are technically an immature fruit – not a vegetable, they contain reasonable levels of folate, potassium and Vitamin D and C, and they originally hail from Italy. Along with the factoids I came across a compelling dish from a guilty pleasure, Jamie Oliver (I’m a sucker for an English accent). In it he makes ribbons out of the plant, grills and then lightly dresses with garlic, red pepper and lemon juice. Sounds both tasty and lazy – right up my alley.

I used a regular vegetable peeler for the ribbons and highly encourage it, the texture of the dish is improved the wispier the zucchini is. As far as the salt goes, I'm of the school of thought that Maldin is always better, but if not that at last kosher or sea salt. And while I can see this dish working well in an elegantly austere meal – think grilled white fish with new potatoes and a Chablis– I paired it with lasagna. Because I’m a rebel, that’s why.

Zucchini Salad (Serves 2)

1 medium sized zucchini, sliced into very thin ribbons with a vegetable peeler or a mandolin (or, if you are a masochist, a knife)

3 Cloves of garlic

½ Teaspoon of red chili pepper flakes

Juice of ½ a lemon

Salt to taste

Method:
1) On a very hot grill (or grill pan) quickly grill the zucchini until the edges are slightly singed.
2) With the side of you knife reduce the garlic to paste. Incorporate red pepper flakes and salt.
3) Thoroughly coat the zucchini with the garlic mixture.
4) Add the lemon juice to the salad.
5) Taste and add salt if required.

Bees, Bones and Desserts

When The Banker is cranky he starts to resemble a toddler who’s just been told that blankie can’t come on vacation this year. Lip goes out, eyes get stormy and outside of major intervention the next hour is going to be uncomfortable. This was the case this Friday evening; early afternoon patioing with the Banker Boys on the street in addition to a market that went turbulent, had him sobering, tired and slightly petulant by six. In this state the two of us plus Faithful Friend made out way over to The Harbord Room. Which meant that this meal, in fact any meal, was probably not going to please him.

I liked the Harbord Room for this situation because it’s cute, the patio is a backyard and not crowded. Again like dealing with a toddler them aim is to reduce stimulation to increase calmness. Coming in at 6pm the restaurant had just opened giving us the pick of the tables. They don’t take reservations for the patio and space goes fast – either come early or be prepared to wait. We were soon tucked into a lovely table, greeted by a pleasant server and things were looking up. The bread came quickly and the small but well thought out menu had options that appealed to the tree of us.

Then the bees came.

Wildlife is a fact of life when dining al fresco but either by some quirk of fate or styling products five bees made a routine of dive bombing The Banker for the duration of the meal, setting the tone resulting in a string of unhappiness from The Banker. The wine, a Malbec with strong chocolate notes , was pronounced undrinkable, his mains, lamb done three ways, declared to fatty and undercooked (totally unfair because one cut was the belly, by it’s very nature a fatty cut). It is a testament to the servers, who managed to relocate our group inside to hide from our aerial attackers, and the desserts, amazing, that by the end good humour had returned and peace reigned once more.

In the mean time my meal pleased me. To start I had the Applewood smoked cheddar on Fred’s walnut loaf. Not original (in my opinion there are superior smoked cheeses being make closer to home) and a little greasy but it delivered on taste and texture. A main of fresh parpadelle and braised rabbit surpassed expectations, with the grainy Kozlik’s mustard working with an anise scented broth while the braised meat was both tender and flavourful. My only issue would be the boning of the rabbit which was slightly incomplete. Ending up with a mouthful of rabbit ribs puts an uncomfortable halt to dinner conversation.

The desserts were where the meal shone and moods improved. The peach bread pudding was paired with an uber rich, very dark chocolate mousse that brought the more austere fruit dessert to a whole new level. The pot du crème was a marvel with chocolate, caramel and espresso it was neither too sweet nor bitter but lovely and mellow on the tongue and smooth and rich in the mouth. Clever the kitchen is to not add to fatigue the palate with any rich garnish but rather topping with a milk foam, providing a nice textural change.

In summation The Harbord room is a lovely little restaurant that can’t be blamed for cranky bankers or deranged insects. It however can take full credit for an interesting menu, accommodating service and sublime desserts.

Snacktastic

I like greens, I really do, but I have issues with amounts they tend to be sold in. Case in point, last week I picked up kale to compliment the pickerel I had for the night’s dinner. One third of the amount, sautéed with sesame oil and red pepper flakes, was more than sufficient and very tasty. Now I have a situation; there are at least four servings left but I really don’t feel like using the greens in the dinner rotation for the next few days. I know Wasted Food = Bad, but Boring Dinners also = Bad. Dilemma ensues.

Solution, make snacks.

Kale chips may sound incredibly bizarre but they work, are delicious and a cinch to make. It’s literally a process of ripping the washed kale into bite size pieces, taking care to remove the fibrous leaf centre, putting on a baking sheet and then liberally pouring olive oil and tossing on sea salt. Bake for 15ish minutes at 350 or until nice and crispy and you are done. The result is an excellent a snack and also works as a tasty and interesting garnish. Not only will no kale be wasted, you might need to make another trip to the store.

Chowing Down at City Hall

Tasty Thursdays are back and, well tasty. Most of the planed schedule of this city hall event were cancelled due to the stike o’summer 09, but happily, with normalcy returned, the last few weeks have been salvaged. The premise is simple; restaurants from the city set up booths and sell their wares, all under $5 and all in environmentally friendly containers. A band plays (in my opinion much too loudly), the sun shines and frivolity ensues. Not a bad gig, but how is the food this year? It turns out pretty good; two adequate passings and an A-.

I, in an attempt to avoid the lines, decided to try Kathmandu and ordered the Momo’s (chicken dumplings) with a side salad, and vegetarian samosas. Verdict? Not bad, but if you’re serving me deceptively gyoza like dumplings you better make sure they pack a flavour wollop – these come carrying a sternly worded letter. Not bland, very meaty but I would have preferred a more confidently seasoned product. Curry sauces kicked it up though; sadly, limp undressed salad brought it back down. Better than a street dog but not as exciting as I hoped.

The Banker’s Brother went Cuban with his sandwich from Freshwood Grill and ended up with a stronger contender. Loads of flavourful braised pork, bacon and aioli wrapped in dense flatbread – simple and to the point. I was sold. The Banker was sold. Brother wanted vegetables in it. Banker and I looked quizzically at Brother. He’s always been a strange one.

The Banker, who always picks the best meal (poor guy never does get to finish it though), spent his time in the longest line and was rewarded for his patience. La Fiesta won the day with it’s roasted pork and potato omelet with rice and beans and a side of (dressed!) salad. Yes, the meat was somewhat fatty and salty. Yes, the rice was probably soaked in fat. This was ‘not good for you at all’ food. I consumed my half it up in five minutes (I may have been afraid The Banker would ask for it back) and considered going back for seconds (sadly the line remained). It was satisfying and greasy and a little spicy with hints of paprika. This is hot summer picnic food at it's best.

So, what's the moral of the story? Wait in the longest line – it turns out people do know what they’re doing. And try and sit away from the bandstand – it’ll make you deaf.

Tasty Thursday's at City Hall

Kathmandu Restaurant
517 Yonge St.

Freshwood Grill
197 ½ Baldwin St.

La Fiesta Restaurant
503 Oakwood Ave

Hank's Peach Pie Rocked My World

Peach pie can be very good. It’s a great fruit to turn into a pie; sweet enough that it doesn’t require additional sugar and while not heavy with pectin the texture of the fruit doesn’t require a lot of gel to set. Anyhow it’s in season right now making it plentiful and cheap. I say this not to promote the baking of pies; as readers will know it is neither a strength nor a joy of mine. It’s just that I had a really great slice yesterday and now have it stuck in my brain (I understand this sort of thing happens with other people and songs). The crust was okay– it did not excite nor offended. The interior though was velvet summer, flavourful and ripe. Garnished with rich Chantilly cream it was a truly superior dessert. Something that Jamie Kennedy’s new lunch spot Hanks seems to be familiar with.

The first visit to Hank’s was a pastry and tea affair. At 10:30 my troop of three easily beat the lunch rush and took full advantage of the minimal line making multiple trips to the counter to reload on sweets and caffeine. The pie was the winner – a dessert that hovers in one’s memory. The croissants were adequate, rich and buttery but not as flakey as I would like. Cookies aimed higher and in the case of the lemon ginger with good sized candied ginger bits, achieved. Macaroons fared less well with great taste but a tough texture. Double chocolate walnut cookie provided a nice moist crumb with a solid chocolate flavor (although I favour the Double Chocolate Espresso cookie and B Café for a similar, but better, take on the concept).

Returning for lunch we learn an important Hank rule – show up before 12:15. After that the eclectic lunch crowd fills up the joint, causing some significant linage. The lunch menu is small but sufficient. Soups and sandwich, each offered in full or half servings (a serious benefit for those of us that don’t have full dinner appetites at lunch). I go for the egg salad sandwich which is fine, but bland. Much better is the smoked turkey sandwich I promptly steal from The Banker, chock full of meat garnished with picked radish, sautéed green pepper and an herbed aioli. A serious sandwich. Soup is another highlight, a herbed squash with a light citrus note contrasting nicely with the rich sweetness of the squash. For $10 a head this is good value.

The service was adorably inept each time. By no means bad service and all intentions seem very good, but things just don’t go quite right. Drinks are spilled enroute and require a top off, sandwiches make a long a tortuous route though the space before finding their happy home at your table. All mistakes are remedied quickly with apologies and I imagine given time will dissipate. Even if they don’t I’ll take a good natured clumsy server over an efficient grump any day. The music was also a little off but in a very good way. One rarely hears Common and Nina Simone back to back.

http://hankstoronto.blogspot.com/
9 1/2 Church St.
Toronto, Ontario
(647) 288-0670

The Best Bread Recipe (and newspaper) Ever

The running joke in our house is that a full two thirds of my conversation begin with “in the New York Times today…”. The habit, established in high school, of treating the papers as a conversational gambit, has driven The Banker a little crazy through the years and while I have tried to stop it’s hard. Because the minute you don’t pay attention to NYT you risk missing a life altering article about bread. No knead bread, to be specific, has in the past year revolutionized bread making in our household. The thing about this is it almost annoying how easy it is. I’ve baked many dozens of recipes using a multiple of flours and starters and methods. I’ve started sponges, babysat sourdoughs, hand kneaded and used the Kitchenaid. This recipe is much, much better than any other and requires about 1/100th of the work (in fact I can/have done it returning home from somewhat rowdy nights out on the town). It’s also hyper adaptable – experiment with different flours and timing. I feel free to omit that fact when receiving praise on the finished product.
Long live The New York Times.Adapted from Jim Lahey, Sullivan Street BakeryTime: About 1½ hours plus 14 to 20 hours’ rising



The York Times No Knead Bread Recipe
http://www.nytimes.com/2006/11/08/dining/08mini.html

3 cups all-purpose or bread flour, more for dusting
¼ teaspoon instant yeast
1¼ teaspoons salt
Cornmeal or wheat bran as needed.

1. In a large bowl combine flour, yeast and salt. Add 1 5/8 cups water, and stir until blended; dough will be shaggy and sticky. Cover bowl with plastic wrap. Let dough rest at least 12 hours, preferably about 18, at warm room temperature, about 70 degrees.

2. Dough is ready when its surface is dotted with bubbles. Lightly flour a work surface and place dough on it; sprinkle it with a little more flour and fold it over on itself once or twice. Cover loosely with plastic wrap and let rest about 15 minutes.

3. Using just enough flour to keep dough from sticking to work surface or to your fingers, gently and quickly shape dough into a ball. Generously coat a cotton towel (not terry cloth) with flour, wheat bran or cornmeal; put dough seam side down on towel and dust with more flour, bran or cornmeal. Cover with another cotton towel and let rise for about 2 hours. When it is ready, dough will be more than double in size and will not readily spring back when poked with a finger.

4. At least a half-hour before dough is ready, heat oven to 450 degrees. Put a 6- to 8-quart heavy covered pot (cast iron, enamel, Pyrex or ceramic) in oven as it heats. When dough is ready, carefully remove pot from oven. Slide your hand under towel and turn dough over into pot, seam side up; it may look like a mess, but that is O.K. Shake pan once or twice if dough is unevenly distributed; it will straighten out as it bakes. Cover with lid and bake 30 minutes, then remove lid and bake another 15 to 30 minutes, until loaf is beautifully browned. Cool on a rack.
Yield: One 1½-pound loaf

Food Happenings the the CIty

Summer is finally showing itself in the city; the sun is shining, garbage is (mostly) gone and all is well with the world. I had a fantastic time touring St. Lawrence Market, Kensington Market and Chinatown yesterday with Scott and Mia, a fantastic couple from Minnesota. Hope they enjoy the rest of their stay in the city and sample many more examples of Toronto's tastiness.

This weekend is a great one to spend in our city with multiple delicious events and happenings. Below is a short list of festivals and related links. Makes you almost pity the cottage folk.
Hope to see you there!


Toronto Food Events for the Weekend of August 7th-9th

Festival of Beer, August 7th and 9th (the Saturday is sold out) @ the Exhibition Place, Tickets $45 – More beer the food (obviously) but interesting things happen in the grilling forum and some the the breweries are great finds) http://www.beerfestival.ca/main/torontos_festival_of_beer_2008

Taste of the Danforth, August 7th-9th **Highly recommended** Incredibly interesting street festival with multiple vendors of Greek food - http://www.dine.to/tasteofthedanforth.php

Jerk Festival, August 8th & 9th, A bit of a hike from the downtown but if you have a vehicle and love the spicy well worth the trip - http://www.jerkfestival.ca/directions.php

South Indian Festival, August 9th, Central location this is an easy stop to fit into a schedule of sightseeing - http://www.ydsquare.ca/

Openings

The much awaited Sam James coffee bar should be opening it's doors tomorrow August 8th. With coffee by Toronto's most famous Barista (none other then Sam himself) and pastries by major Chef about Town J.P. Challet this place has created enough buzz to live up to it's main beverage.
Sam James Coffee Bar297 Harbord Street, Toronto, ON

sidecar goes beyond

Gotta love a place that serves great food at good prices and pays for the cab! Went to Sidecar on College last night for a casual meal with friends and forgot our wallet. Worse The Banker and I realized this pertinent fact in the cab outside of the restaurant. While I stay, mortified, in the car trying to explain to the driver that we aren't generally so useless The Banker goes in search of our friends (and hopefully benefactors). With no familiar faces in sight Sidecar becomes our hero when the bar offers to lead us the cash to pay the cab and put it on our tab.
Evening rescued. Dinner Fantastic. Fans Forever.

Come East Young Man

The Toronto’s east side gains a little West coast flavor with the opening of the Lady Marmalade, a beloved Victoria brunch local that is trying the fickle Toronto trade. From the line out the door I think our city has provided a receptive welcome.

Bunch is tricky because it must appear simple. At no time do I want to be confused by the menu, servers should use short words and small sentences and loud noises are to be avoided (good rule of thumb for all dining rooms but particularly important for the early meals). At the same time it shouldn’t be boring (exception if the meal is occurring in a dinner variation). The Lady Marmalade wins, with interesting yet approachable fare (breakfast poutine anyone?) and bonus points for simple but lovely presentation.

Hourvos ranchos are common enough in Toronto but often underwhelming. The version I had was fresh and clean tasting with eggs that had been respected while cooking so the retained the texture of eggs not tires and fresh guacamole (sadly not much). The tomato sauce was well spiced and the whole wheat tortilla added a nice textural touch. The miso gravy on the poutine ordered for the table was a bit overwhelming when paired with an already salty aged cheddar (this is not to say the dish did not disappear quickly) – next time I’d like to try the hollandaise. The third sauce option, tomato orange cream, may be pushing the brunch envelope for me. It doesn’t work in my head and I am neither brave nor adventurous before coffee.

The second time around I went for the poached egg BLT with avocado and chipotle mayo and was reduced to silence. Again the egg had not been over cooked (why do so many places do that?) and the mayo was distinctly smoky, working well with thick cut, properly cooked (neither insipid or charred) bacon. Absolutely lovely.

Coffee, an important brunch measurement, was a good roast and refills were offered at suitable intervals even though the place obviously humming. Service in general was just right; wholesome looking and efficient with an easy grin but little need or time to chit chat. It fit into the overall feel of the place; with mismatched mugs, salt and pepper shakers that range from fire trucks to Santas and a chalk board for idle little ones to decorate, Lady Marmalade is laid back charm. This city would be lucky to receive more of this particular west coast migration.

Lady Marmalade

898 Queen Street East, Toronto, ON

647-351-7645

B Comforted

When I worked in a café I made up stories for all the regulars that come in. I decided Miss Decafe Latte, with perfectly applied red lipstick every morning, was a struggling actress unhappy with working her retail job and secretly thinking about moving to Alberta marrying a oil cowboy and selling Mary Kay. Mr double espresso with a croissant was obviously a successful CEO who secretly longed to return to Paris where he had spent the only truly happy summer of his life. And Ms black dark roast who never got off her phone had three kids, a dog and a slew of underlings at work all of who constantly required supervision and guidance. I think about this every time I go to B because there I am the regular and they’ve seen me in some varied roles through the years. I’ve been a university student cramming, a student Chef in my blood splattered whites, despondent after fights with The Banker and nervous in business gear right before an interview. I’d like to know the story they have for me. It might actually be true.

B is comfort to me; a place to rest, revive and head out. I’ve been lucky that such is happily located and a well travelled junction in my life. It’s not a cozy café, being much to sleek in design and appearance. It’s minimalist without being cold; two communal tables offer the bulk of the seating and the crowd is generally the literary business type from the magazine offices above. My only reservation about the aesthetics of the place lies with the flat scene television in the corner. I’m of the (minority) school of thought that believes outside of sports bars T.V.’s do not belong in eating establishments. The service is consistently brilliant; friendly without being cloying and often charmingly quirky (sometimes the owner Bruno sings opera for the crowd). B is a place that gets the details; spoons are carefully folded into napkins, cookies are artfully placed on your plate and espresso drinks are as pleasing to the eye as to the palate. Everything is thought about and I have always found tremendous comfort in that.

The food offering on the savoury side are simple lunch far; pizzas, sandwiches and salads. In all honesty I rarely try any of them. When I go to B’s I want succor and find it in spades in the sweet case. The biscotti have long been a favourite but the cookies are making a strong run for top of the heap. These are cookies for grownups; not too sweet and compelling in the mouth. The two best in my opinion are the almond biscottini with a boozy, crumbly interior a set off by the toothsome sugar flecked exterior, and the double chocolate espresso cookie with a moist rich bite that begins overwhelmingly chocolate then fads around the edges to let the espresso finish.

B Espresso Bar

111 Queen Street East

www.bespressobar.com

Baking and Blueberries

After spending a weekend at a resort in the Muskokas I have been reconnected to two universal and immutable truths; 1) We live in a massive, beautiful country and 2) Resort food is one small step up from cafeteria fare. Suffice to say I had a tableside melt down about the abuse of the term soufflé (and was reduced to astonishment over a variation of risotto) but away from the table thoroughly enjoyed a respite from the city.



On the long and windy (and rainy) drive home we fulfilled our prerequisites as Canadians and stopped a Tim Hortons and in doing so happily found a farm stand selling berries. I picked up raspberries (which were promptly eaten in the car) and a pint of wild blueberries which were saved for more elevated fare. Relaxed and refreshed from the lake weekend I felt ambitious; I was going to make scones.



Scones rate up there with pie crusts on the ‘things I do not enjoy making’ list. It’s not that I don’t like to bake – fresh bread is mainstay at our house, cakes are common and even the dreaded (and misunderstood) soufflé makes appearances. It’s the finicky flakey pastries where I fall flat. This is not to say that I can’t or won’t attempt them or that when I do the results are tragedies. It’s just that they’re never as good as I want them to be. I imagine a light, moist crumb that falls apart in the mouth; I get a slightly wet interior with structural integrity, not the flakiness I covet.



I’m pretty sure my Achilles occurs in the cutting in of the butter, an important stage where you want to leave the butter cold and reduced the crumb like particle, not amalgamated into the dough. The premise being that you want the little butter balls to melt during the baking creating the stream necessary for flakiness to ensue. Traditionally done with fingers (impossibly hard), two knifes (still pretty impossible), or pastry cutter (only massively improbable) the best modern manner is to blend in a food processor (which I lack). This time I decided to take a new route and, after placing the butter in the freezer, grated it into the dry ingredients. The results were honestly my best yet. Still room for improvement – they by no means hit the ethereal level I aim for and in hindsight I may have been a little exuberant in adding the full pint of blueberries as the resulting moisture added unnecessary weight - but these have been my first scones that didn’t make me sad.

Blueberry Scone Recipe



2 cups sifted flour


4 teaspoons baking powder


1/4 teaspoon salt


1 tablespoon light brown sugar


1/4 cup butter (very cold – best to keep in the freezer 1 hour preceeding)


2 eggs


3/4 cup whipping cream


1 pint of blueberries



Method:





Preheat oven to 425ºF.



Sift the dry ingredients together.



Using a large box grater grate the cold butter into the dry ingredients. The result should have the texture of cornmeal. Add the blueberries.



Beat eggs until light, then mix them with the whipping. Add this liquid mix to the dry ingredients, stirring as little as possible.



Pat the dough to form a large rectangle, about 1 inch thick. Cut into desired shape with a biscuit cutter and place on greased and floured baking pan.



Brush with milk and sprinkle with coarse sugar.Bake at 425ºF for about 18 minutes until lightly golden.

T&T bought buy Loblaws

I'm a little alarmed by Loblaw's move to purchase T&T, the Asian food supermarket chain with a great location by the docks. I can't see Loblaws keeping T&T's as is, which is an incredibly cheap, accessible and quirky place where one can marvel at the size of King Crabs in the tank, eat dim sum in the 'food court' and buy any number of ingredients that are typically only found in Chinatown. Part of the charm of T&T is that it is a chain, but doesn't really feel like a chain - it still feels like a distinct shopping experience. I'd hate to see Loblaws tinker with this winning formula.

http://www.thestar.com/business/article/671187

Respect the Ramen

I have long been a fan of the noodle, be it spaghetti, udon, pho or vermicelli. Love them all. Ramen however has always been an ugly step sister, something one ate in poverty stricken student days in order to conserve precious resources for beer (or in my case for a dim sum binge). Not something one ate because of taste. In all honestly the depth of my knowledge has been the little pre packaged plastic food products, a slightly more edible Mr. Noodle. Little did I know that the ramen is a cuisine with a history, a depth, and a dedicated following.

My first tip off occurred while straining to see inside a soon to be opened eating establishment – Liberty Noodle. Because I’m nosey, I moseyed through the interwebs to find out the story. Apparently it’s a modern (or western, depending on your take) version of a Ramen House. Which sounded great to me, except for having absolutely no idea what a Ramen House was. But I like the noodle (as mentioned above) and the people connected are some of the same as opened Blowfish, which I’m also a fan of so count me in for learning more. I put the soon to be open restaurant on the top of my ‘to go’ list.

However fate surprised me by placing a fully operational Ramen House, Kenzo, directly in my path. This Ramen chain recently opened a location at Yonge and Dundas – moments from home. Being a person who does not take signs from the food gods about lightly (and also a hungry person in front of restaurant) I decided to take my introductory course in Ramen early.

This is what I learned; Ramen is about the broth, as much or more so then the noodles. Not that the noodles are neglected – according to the menu the Kenzo noodle are hand cut and slow ripened (must find out what that means). In the mouth they have integrity, not the bite of Italian al dente but a resistance to the teeth that is pleasing. The broth I chose, miso, may not have been the best introduction. It was strongly flavoured with the richness and saltiness I associated with the soup, but rather one dimensional. I think next time I’ll try something that has a bit more spark (reading reviews indicate some are quite spicy). The toppings were nicely done, including fall apart tender pork, bean sprouts and various greens. All in all a pleasant little dish.

So I have been schooled. Ramen is not only for the starving students among us but its own cuisine, one both satisfying and flavourful. Now if only Liberty Noodle would open – I’m fascinated how the team behind Blowfish is going to gentrify the hell out of this concept.

http://www.kenzoramen.ca

http://www.libertynoodle.com/

Dim Sum Done Up

Sadly, last Thursday my plan of great street food courtesy of Toronto’s big chefs was cancelled due to the current strike action. Honestly (and perhaps disproportionally) this annoyed me; apparently I can deal with a stinky littered city with no access to the best park lands during the summer season, but closing an excellent food festival is going a little too far. Can’t we all just get along?
To console (and feed) me The Banker offered lunch at Lai Wah Hein. I immediately forgot/forgave all agents involved in Toronto’s strike action (I’m fickle that way). Lai Wah Hein has been a bit of a food unicorn to me for years. Back in my starving student days I scored a part time job at the fine food retailer Sen5es and was exposed to the upper echelon of food for the first time – an education indeed. Sen5es at the time was located on Bloor St and a two part operation – the retail storefront which sold prepared food, charcuterie, and other overpriced exotic goodies I coveted, - and the restaurant upstairs, manned by the famous Claudio April (whom I loved with every iota of my 19 year self). The food perks of the job were fantastic and one of the best was access to a limited selection of Lai Wah Hein dim sum. The Metropolitan hotel, where the great Lai Wah Hein resides, and Sen5es existed under the same ownership as so our sister restaurant delivered daily dim sum that would become part of our case (and often part of my lunch). Unable to finagle a spot to steam the dumplings I subsisted largely on the pastry covered, deeply seasoned, meat dumplings – exotic fare to me at the time. Even sense the restaurant itself became exaggerated in my head; a utopia where morsels of flavor are dropped off one at a time to be appreciated and enjoyed. Time passed and dim sum became largely de mystified (though no less loved) but Lai Wah Hein has always reigned supreme.

Called the best dim sum in North America Lai Wah Hein is Dim Sum unlike any other place I’ve seen or heard of in Toronto. Instead of braying women pushing carts around a crowded dining room the waiter diffidently offers us a lengthy list of the teas in addition to our menus. Our places are elegantly set with charming chopstick holder and ornate spoons. The room is subdued and serene - and strangely empty with only three other tables with groups that vary from tourists to suits. While the décor isn’t particularly current (I catch a strong whiff of the 80’s) it is extremely polished. This continues with the service; at no point was water permitted to empty, empty dishes to remain or a query to remain unanswered. The servers maintained a formal and understated manner at all times, giving the meal a real sense of gravitas.

As we (sadly) didn’t have time to partake in the many decadent chef's tasting options, we chose to go off cart and order a small number of the dumplings, as well as jasmine house tea. The lobster dumplings are precious – artful rice papers mimic the crustacean, while meaty chunks of the real thing lay within. The sui mai – a familiar offering from our more pedestrian Sunday hang outs - are decked out, with the pork dumpling topped with scallop and accessorized with roe. Beautiful. I have mixed feelings about the wagu beef dumplings, loving the seasoned meat in the interior of the dumpling and the chili in the sauce but finding the slices on top oddly tough and tasteless. In my book the winner of the afternoon is the little muffin shaped meat filled pastry, reminiscent of curry and treats of my past.

Great Upcoming Food Events

The Guerrilla Gourmet is running two events in July, details below. As I wrote last week Maria is a fascinating character who runs a gamut of culinary activities intended to awaken our urban dwelling eyes to the food around us.

guerrilla in the garden
monday july 27
7:30pm
$50 per person
rsvp is necessary

This will be a traditional guerrilla dinner with just a handful of you gathered around one table in my kensington magical herb garden.

tasting tuesday
july 28
6:30 - 8:30pm
$15 per person
rsvp would be appreciated, but not necessary


This will be an artful tasting menu surrounded by a most inspiring living art show.



maria@guerrilla-gourmet.com

www.guerrilla-gourmet.com

647. 831. 3377

No Recipe Cooking and the Power of Fava Beans

I love recipes. I have hoards of books chock full of them that I take to the beach and read like novels. I like the pictures, the descriptions, the potential and the concepts. The only time I become violently anti recipe at 4:00 in the afternoon when planning dinner. At that point I want food to jump out at me and miraculously arrange itself on my counter for eating pleasure. Thankfully I live close to the St Lawrence Market where walking the stalls produces a meal with scarcely more effort.

One of the things I love about idling through the market without a plan is that it often reminds me of old favourites that have slipped my mind and menu recently. Yesterday fava beans were such an occasion; these funny looking stalks brought forth not only an iconic movie line but happy memories of meals past. Some find the fava bean a little capricious to prepare – it does require a two step shucking procedure, but unless you’re making a meal of a dozen (at which point hire help) it’s not that bad. I even find in kind of gratifying to pluck the individual beans out of their wooden husks; they’re such a pretty vibrant green after.

Pre Meal Shopping
2 Week aged New York Striploin from La Boucherie Fine Meats Inc
Ontario Potatoes (organic), Fava beans (organic) and Portobello mushroom (organic) from Golden Orchard Fine Food











Fava Beans pre shucking










Fava Beans post shucking










Meal

Boy Wonder - the Food Version

Trying to separate Luke’s the restaurant from Luke’s the story is tricky. Luke’s the story the story is a heartwarmer all about achievement and creativity. Luke’s the restaurant is a little rougher around the edges.

Luke, the Chef, has been making waves since 2006 when he took over the kitchen at his parent’s establishment. Now some of the attention was gained from the ambition and the audacity of his menu. However a large part came because Luke at the time was 16. If you go in the average kitchen the 16 year kitchen worker is peeling carrots, not designing Tete du Cochon appetizers (the link to the Toronto Like article which does an excellent job in recounting the how and why behind Luke, the prodigy in the kitchen, is below and I’ll let you read rather than summarize) Suffice to say it’s a great story; bright, socially awkward child given the freedom and guidance to flourish in an unconventional environment. As I’m not too many years away from being a (reasonably) bright and socially awkward child myself, I was legitimately touched. However, as much as I wanted it to, Luke’s the restaurant did not touch me.

The small dining room seats 22 and manages to evoke precisely the ambience of a first year dorm. Dark, with shear curtains cordoning off tables, the room décor is partly created by the maestro himself (one large semi abstract painting behind us sported his signature circa 2006) and supplemented with generic African style masks. I find it a little claustrophobic, even though we shared the room with only one other couple. The menu itself is impressive in ambition, leaning heavily on the molecular gastronomy trend of playing with the form of the ingredients – salad is both liquid and solid, pork belly is ‘cigars’ and so forth. The wording is literary, one dish depicted as ‘a culinary stroll through 1st century Rome” another ‘ a Canvas’. As an thoroughly intellectual exercise the menu was fascinating. It just didn’t make me hungry.

The appetizers delivered the one knock out of the evening and one serviceable dish. First the Tete du Cochon kicked ass. Honestly, I didn’t care for the presentation and the size was incredibly large, however after tasting it all complaints became moot. Gribiche sauce, something I dimly recall from food theory, delivered a rich punch to the crispy yet ethereal pork head medallions. This was a dish rooted in the classics but yet not tasting dated. Think a gastro version of that new book out that has both Jane Austen and Zombies. Very, very good. Our other appetizer was neither unfortunate nor inspiring. Chevre Neopolan, was composed of sweet oat tuiles, sweet honey and sweet balsamic and left an overwhelming (wait for it) sweet impression that the tangy chevre and salty olives just couldn’t balance. It was neither complex, nor interesting.

With the mains things got a little hairy. My duck dish did something to a duck breast that has confused me ever since. Pitched as ‘pulled duck breast’ somehow it came out tasting like a charred loosely ground beef burger. I have nothing against burgers, but I don’t want my duck breast to resemble one. Things were not improved by a house made, overly sweet, tomato jam. However the onion pain perdu accompaniment was gorgeous – full of sweet, caramelized, onion goodness – again though not requiring the ubiquitous jam accompaniment. The next effort was stronger with solid crisp leg confit – oddly paired with an uber sweet marshmallow (I think Luke may have a sweet tooth). Too extreme for me – more interesting in theory then on the palate where the sickliness of the marshmallow overtook any of the richness of the duck.

I want to go back to Luke’s in a year and be amazed by the growth; it’s easy to see the potential here. I wonder if perhaps receiving the bulk of his food knowledge through books (the only restaurant website I‘ve seen that comes complete with reading list) may limit the prodigy – perhaps he should venture out into the world a little? For the most part the food, like the décor, reminds me of first year university; students itching to show off all their new knowledge with essays that use ten words where one would suffice, and attempt to cram in all the shiny new ideas floating in their head instead of favouring clean, efficient simplicity. I want to see Luke’s idea’s when he’s achieved the kind of elegant prose I think he’s going to be capable of.




Luke’s Gastronomy
264 Princess St
Kingston
613-531-7745

http://www.lukesgastronomy.com/

http://www.torontolife.ca/features/prodigy/

Covert Awesomeness

For me the standout of yesterday’s harvest tasting had to be Guerrilla Gourmet. Not that I don’t love the CSA contingent, but after you’ve had the concept explained to you once (concept being farm fresh and seasonal produce is delivered to members from farmers directly, thus ensuring the farmer get maximum profit, and members get total security that the food is organic/local or whatever particular shade of green floats their boat) you get it. Farmers are my favourite people to talk to – learned loads about this year’s strawberry crop by a charming man while happily putting a dent it at Brooks Farms (also learned that a prerequisite for the industry is optimism) but seeing someone take a different path is always interesting particularly with that person is winsome and charming.

Maria Solakofski’s (AKA Guerrilla Gourmet) mission, to connect us city folk to the nature around us, is open enough to allow her to do some pretty cool things such as edible nature walks, catering dinners at her house, and cooking classes. You have to admire the creativity of finding multiple paths to your goal, and then walking them all at once. At the tasting event she chose to showcase the multitude of herbs (and plants that some would call weeds) she cultivates in her Kensington Market yard, demonstrating to those of us with less drive or ingenuity that a little space (and a medium amount of effort) can produce pretty vast amounts of natural deliciousness. She made incredibly flavourful tisanes for the crowd (I was particularly a fan of the sage orange tyme – very warming) from her bounty and sold bouquets to be turned into tea at a later date (pretty and tasty). Her website currently seems to be MIA (apparently actually doing a multiple of cool things leaves one a dearth of time to promote them) but this Food Nerd is making a note to track her down in the near future and learn more. A guide for the edible urban jungle sounds like a very good thing.