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.

SOMA Proves Me Wrong

In the past two years people have developed a tendency towards pairing strange things with chocolate, and typically I’m on board with that. Exotic Salt – love it, Bacon – ship it in, even Aged Balsamic - it makes perfect sense in my head. However I do have a theoretical limit, and before today I thought that limit was olive oil. It just didn’t make sense to me; I associate the feeling of a freshly mown lawn with olive oil, and I, for one, don’t feel the need for grass in my chocolate.

Thinking this I, in the midst of a severe chocolate craving (what’s a gestating girl to do?), found my way to the distillery and specifically SOMA, a place I generally trust implicitly with all my chocolate concerns. I mean a place the shows you their newest batch of cacao beans (Melangeur from Barcelno) must know what they are stuff. And in the case was a pretty little conical olive oil truffle. So money went where mouth is and said truffle was bought, consumed and … enjoyed? Dammit, another theoretical line bites the dust.

The thing is, the quality of the chocolate of SOMA is so high that it showcases the best attributes whatever it’s paired with (kind of like the opposite of mirrors in dressing rooms). The other thing is the olive oil in this case is one of the fruitier and milder family – not the green grass version I carry in my head. The result is a truffle with an excellent exterior snap (as my partner in chocolate lab can testify – I can’t make chocolate do that and therefore harbor envy to all who can) and an interior of lush, bright, chocolate truffle with fruity notes and a mouth feel of pure butter.

So what’s next universe? Toronto food gods I dare you – I will not stand for truffled maple syrup. Do with that what you will.

Toronto Life makes me Happy

I don’t always agree with any magazine when it decides to print lists of ‘the best’ whatever in Toronto. In my opinion Toronto is just too large and, with food in particular, tastes to varied to really come up with any kind of census. However they are fun to read, so I do buy the magazine so, I’m pretty sure the publishing industry will continue with the practice.

Anyhow in Augusts’ Toronto Life they come up with a best list for pretty much everything in the city. It being Toronto Life most of the items are only obtainable for the Rosedale crowd (and some of the categories are just plain strange – Bust Ugly Lunch That’s Actually Delicious? Huh). However on one important topic (of which I consider myself a bonafide expert) they got it very, very right. Best baguette goes to the Thobors Boulangerie everytime folks. This extremely French establishment, connected to the Pascal Ribreau’s extremely French (and awesome) Mount Pleasant restaurant Celestin, has been making truly awesome breads and pastries for years and gone relatively unreported in Toronto media and blogosphere. Try the baguette to begin but make sure you also pick up one of the pretty and delicious fig breads (works amazing with ripe cheeses) and the croissants (uber flakey due to the high fat content butter) .

Now if only I had the same credentials talking about the best Helicopter Service to Cottage Country.