seven spoons

Second verse, same as the first

2008-05-13T13:43:00.000-04:00

I am, once again, letting the weather determine what I eat.

For regular readers, this will hardly seem like ground-breaking news but it cannot go without mention. I look outside to see green all around me, but as I make my way downstairs I notice that the house is still cool in the mornings. The hours progress and the winds pick up just a bit, rustling the newly-opened leaves on the trees and sending delicate blossoms flying in late-spring’s version of a blizzard. The last few days have held the threat of an imminent downpour; ubiquitous greyness encouraging one to curl up their shoulders and head back inside before the rain comes.

Therein lies my problem. I am surrounded by the lush promise of the season, but am wholly dampened by, well, the dampness. Back in February it was easy; snow and cold and ice meant braises and stews and full-on roasts with gravies and sauces and all manner of lovely starchy side-dishes. Comfort came by the ladleful as we hunkered down to watch the white wonderland of weather outside. Fast-forward to May when we are starting to spend our evenings outside again, and a piled-high plate of mashed potatoes and gravy (though delicious) seems just as inappropriate as a down-filled parka.

So what to do to when faced with these misty, blustery, but-still-very-springlike sort of days?

Our inclination has been to steal from the Asian pantry, snatching up inspiration here and there to come up with a combination of flavours that best suit our needs; a touch of chili heat to bolster the valiant efforts of the cloud-locked sun, some tender-crisp vegetables that seem fitting for the season and just a bit of slippery, slurpy noodles or sticky rice to sustain us in combat against the evening’s chill. Miles away from anything remotely authentic, to be sure, but the end by far justifies the improvisational means.

Sticky soy glazed salmon
The glaze is the particular draw of this dish; hot, sweet and salty, it hits every taste bud with full force. I frequently make extra to drizzle over whatever vegetables, noodles or rice I am serving alongside.

Ingredients
5 tablespoons soy sauce
2 garlic cloves, grated
1 teaspoon grated ginger
1 1/2 lbs. (650 g) wild salmon filet, skinned
1 tablespoon sweet Thai chili sauce
1 teaspoon oyster sauce
1 teaspoon brown sugar
1 tablespoons water
Approximately 1 tablespoon canola or other neutral oil

In a shallow dish, combine 3 tablespoons of the soy sauce, the garlic and ginger. Set aside. Cut salmon into strips across the width of the filet, between 1 1/2"-2" wide. Place the salmon, face down, into the marinade and let stand for about 15 minutes, turning once.

Meanwhile, in a small bowl, combine the remaining soy sauce, sweet Thai chili sauce, oyster sauce, brown sugar and water. Stir well to dissolve the sugar. Set aside.

Heat a large skillet over medium high heat. When thoroughly hot, add enough oil to barely slick the surface of the pan. Using a paper towel, blot the salmon dry of any marinade; you do not want the garlic and ginger to scorch in the pan. Place the salmon presentation side down into the hot oil, careful of any splatters. Cook for about 1-2 minutes per side (depending on the thickness of the fish) or until cooked to your liking. Remove the salmon from the pan and set aside, turning the heat down to medium low.

Once the pan has cooled a bit, deglaze with the soy mixture. Stir frequently, scraping up any bits of fish and pan juices that may stick to the bottom. Cook until reduced into a thick sauce, about the consistency of maple syrup (it will continue to thicken as it cools). Spoon or brush the glaze over the salmon and serve.

Serves 4.

Notes

• In the spirit of full disclosure, I had meant to include some of the glaze drizzled over the presentation. However, a certain little boy had his eye on this plateful of food and so I made him up a serving and the reserved glaze was gobbled up rather greedily. In fact, many of my shots have fidgety little digits making their way into the edge of frame.
• If your salmon filet is a centre cut, you may want to cut the strips thicker for easier handling.
• These greens make a wonderful accompaniment along with a spoonful of the aforementioned sticky rice.
• A note on fish and pregnancy, and general food safety for those with compromised immune systems. While salmon is an excellent source of protein and Omega-3 fatty acids beneficial to the healthy development of the brain, there is a bit of controversy concerning farm-raised salmon and levels of mercury ingested by pregnant women. As such, wild salmon purchased from a reputable fishmonger is by far preferred. While I do enjoy my salmon on the rarer side when I am not eating for two, anyone pregnant, nursing, elderly, very young or who has an otherwise-weakened immune system should always cook salmon (and all meats) to well-done.

Martha, Martha, Martha; an addendum

2008-05-05T11:34:00.000-04:00

You know a new cookbook is a good one when you find the excuse to bake twice in one week, just so you can try another recipe.

(As labelled in the book) Milk Chocolate cookies from Martha Stewart's Cookies. Thin and crisp at the edges but still tender at the middle, these cookies have just enough deep chocolate flavour to feel a treat but not overly-indulgent; a dangerous trait, to be sure. In my opinion the cookies I took out after about 11-12 minutes, rather than the recipe's instructed 15, were the perfect balance of chewy and crunch - but this is a matter of personal taste.

To read a full review of Martha’s latest cookbook, please see my previous post.

Martha, Martha, Martha; a review of Martha Stewart's Cookies

2008-04-29T08:25:00.009-04:00

As of late, Martha Stewart, baking and food blogs seem to go hand in hand. With Sunday's launch of the cookie-centric contest at marthastewart.com, it is an appropriate opportunity to take a closer look at the prize up for grabs; copies of Martha Stewart's Cookies (Clarkson Potter, 2008). The latest cookbook from the editors of Martha Stewart Living, it is a comprehensive collection of 175 their most versatile and tempting treats.

With its ingenious imaged-based table of contents, coupled with chapter headings organized by cookie texture, this book speaks directly to cravings and their indulgence. I have read some recipes delightfully described as "everyday", a phrase that evokes idyllic notions of an overfilled cookie jar; these are chocolate chip cookies in a myriad of variations, fudgy brownies, delicate sugar cookies and shortbread. Other recipes range from the festive (from Crumbly and Sandy: Vanilla-Bean Spritz Wreaths) to the elegant (from Crisp and Crunchy: Sweet Cardamom Crackers) to the downright decadent (from Rich and Dense: Chocolate Pistachio Cookies).

In regards to content it should be noted that some of these recipes have been previously published in various publications under the Martha Stewart mantle, specifically the special edition Holiday Cookie series. Some readers could be frustrated by this repetition, while others may appreciate having their best-loved favourites in a trade paperback version.

The layout of the recipes is clear and concise, each featuring a photo of the finished product. Although some follow the expected Martha Stewart aesthetic of colourful but simple styling, others depart from this look entirely. These shots are mid-range to close up photographs against a white background which, in comparison to the charm of the former, do seem a bit austere. That said, the minimalist approach does highlight the characteristic textures of the cookies quite well.

Two appendices, one on packaging and the other with information on techniques and cook's tools, are helpful additions. Inspired presentation ideas show off the cookies beautifully for giving, and the instructions frequently include step-by-step photos. The baking notes serve as a useful introduction to the novice baker and as helpful reminders to those more experienced.

In the name of research, the Peanut Butter and Jelly Bars (above and below) were the first to be made from this book. The luscious batter inspired nostalgic thoughts of childhood. Its rich scent reminiscent of the best peanut butter cookie crossed with Reese Pieces; the sort that has greedy fingers fighting over rights to lick the bowl. The finished cookie lived up to the charms of the dough, with tender cookie underneath, a layer of tangy-sweet jam in between and the salty crunch of peanuts and crisp crumble as a crowning crust. Perfect for a lunchbox or after-school treat, these cookies will surely become a household classic.

Peanut Butter and Jelly Bars
From Martha Stewart Holiday Cookies 2001.

The recipe featured in the book is subject to copyright but is quite similar to this version.

Notes:

• I used a combination of mixed berry jam and homemade mixed berry compote for the filling as I wanted a bit of tartness to offset the buttery-rich cookie layer.

• Toffee bits, coconut, honey-roasted nuts or white chocolate chips would be a wonderful substitution or addition to the peanut topping. For those looking for true excess, a chocolate spread or dulce de leche could be used instead of jam filling.

Martha Stewarts's Cookies is on sale now.

Bits and pieces and various meals

2008-04-21T10:48:00.011-04:00

And once again, time has flown.

What seemed like the timid start to spring became a full-blown explosion with crocuses raising their delicate heads, forsythia adding its generous golden bloom to gardens and buds appearing on our lilac bushes out back. It has been a busy few weeks, filled with some family celebrations, some further preparations, and of course food.

Some of the things that have caught my eye and tempted our tastebuds recently:

• Cookies (below). For a recently birthday celebration, the honoree was given a batch of his favourite chocolate chip cookies. I have come to realize that these are now so ingrained in our family's palate that no other recipe will do.

• Pies (above). I was in the kitchen with pastry as I continued my search for the perfect pie crust. Still not there yet, but the testers are enjoying their job.

• Heidi's Lazy Day Peanut Noodle Salad. An absolutely beautiful looking recipe, and one that tastes just as great. Pointed out to me by a dear friend, it will surely become a staple in our house - a great canvas for variation as well.

•Heston Blumenthal's naan. I saw an episode of In Search of Perfection where Mr. Blumenthal made his version on Chicken Tikka Masala (it seems basically butter chicken but I have never had Chicken Tikka); he also included a recipe for homemade tandoor naan. While I did not attempt his MacGyver-worthy cooking rig, I used his recipe to prepare some rather impressive homemade flatbread. I simply heated a cast iron skillet under a hot broiler for about 20 minutes, then used that for my cooking surface. After two minutes or so we were rewarded with beautifully-browned naan, slightly crispy and with an open and airy interior. Gorgeous. My only complaint over the recipe is that it is never clearly stated how early one should remove the dough from the fridge before using; I do believe that mine needed to further warm up before use, but a hungry family took precedent over such concern.

• Trifle cake. Another birthday celebration warranted a truly special dessert created in honour of a truly special person. I combined four recipes from four sources to end up with a cake that offered the best a trifle had to offer; layers of Martha Stewarts's yellow cake sandwiched a variation on François Payard's pastry cream, homemade blackberry compote and a cream filling from Cook's Illustrated. The whole thing was then covered with a combination of the cream filling and a classic white buttercream for some added stability. The flavours were exactly what I was looking for, but now I need an excuse to make it again so I can perfect the proportions.

• Blackberries. Speaking of these beauties, we have just welcomed a few blackberry bushes to our yard. I am looking forward to a summer filled with desserts like this.

• Golden pepper jelly from Kurtz Orchards. I have been asked about my pregnancy cravings, and this has been one of them. Slathered on crusty homemade bread with slices of extra-old cheddar, it is like your classic combination of cheese and chutney - but with the volume turned up. I have also been craving one of these, but as smoked salmon is not recommended during pregnancy I will have to wait to satiate that particular want.

• Brunches. For all the possible mealtime invitation opportunities, brunch is my favourite to include friends and family. Though a relatively easy meal to prepare, there is something about a good brunch that feels particularly indulgent and immeasurably special. I have been eyeing either one of these beauties to add to my entertaining arsenal.

So that is just a look at a few of the things is happening around here, I hope that these last few weeks have been just as inspiring on your end.

Note: I feel I should sheepishly admit that the photos included here were never intended for publication, but were just some shots I had taken recently. Keeping a toddler's greedy little fingers out of frame prevented me from taking my usual time with them.

Rites of spring

2008-04-08T14:05:00.008-04:00

Around this time two years ago, I was coming up with various uses for peas. Before that, I was all about asparagus. While the grass outside is only showing the barest shades of hopeful green, days of sun and warm breezes have put a definite sense of spring in my step. It is fitting then that this year I am embracing the warmth of recent days by serving both green vegetables.

This simple side can be served warm or at room temperature, offering up sweet and tender-crisp veggies tossed with a vinaigrette that can be called nothing short of enthusiastically herby. Served alongside a seared salmon filet this would make a lovely light supper for these glorious early days of the season.

Spring vegetables with green goddess pesto
While not wholly traditional pesto ingredients, the name refers mostly to the texture of the vinaigrette. The combination was inspired by the original Green Goddess Dressing.

Ingredients
2 shallots, cut in quarters OR 3 green onions, roughly chopped
2 garlic cloves
1/3 cup fresh flat leaf parsley
2/3 cup mixed fresh herbs; whatever combination of chervil, dill, tarragon, lemon thyme and basil you prefer
1-2 anchovy filets, rinsed if salt packed
Zest and juice from half a lemon
About 1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil (see note)
Salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
1 pound asparagus, trimmed, cut into approximately 1 1/2" pieces, blanched
2 cups frozen or fresh petit pois, blanched

To make the vinaigrette; place the shallots, garlic, herbs, lemon zest, juice and anchovies into a blender or small food processor. Pulse to reduce the contents to a coarse purée. With the motor running, drizzle in the oil in slowly, scraping the sides down as needed. Season to taste.

In a medium sauté pan over medium-low heat, gently cook the pesto. Stir constantly for about 2 minutes, or until the edge (raw flavours) of the garlic and shallot are mellowed slightly. Toss through the blanched vegetables until just warmed through. Taste again for seasoning. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Serves 4-6.

Note:
• The olive oil measurement is only a guide, adjust the amount to best suit your textural preference.
• If you do not mind the pungency of raw garlic and shallots, cooking the pesto can be skipped.
• For this, and many other similar preparations, I prefer to use an immersion blender and a container only slightly wider than the blender head (like a mason jar); this way, the ingredients are well chopped and fully blended.

Portratits of a long weekend

2008-03-22T09:22:00.006-04:00

Making puris with my parents

Puri, or poori, are deep-fried Indian breads made from atta (whole wheat flour). The dough is rolled into a thin disc, then dropped into hot oil. Using a spatula the puri is held under the oil's surface, trapping the resulting steam and puffing the dough into a golden pillow. One quick flip to brown the other cheek and they are done. I will admit a certain sense of accomplishment when a puri emerges perfectly formed - lightly tanned, slightly flaky but really more tender. Here they are served with Mum's spiced potatoes, yogurt and lime pickle. These beautiful photographs are courtesy of my rather talented brother; many thanks to him and to my parents for a delicious afternoon.

Early influences

2008-03-07T08:58:00.006-05:00

Growing up, my best friend was right next door. It was one of those friendships where sleepovers were weekly, staying over for dinner was almost daily, and company was constant. We were lucky enough to live on a street where everyone knew everybody, where children ran freely from yard to yard wreaking havoc and laughter. It was a great place to live, with pool parties and backyard barbecues crowned with sparklers at the end.

Beyond the fun we had, my most vivid memory of these childhood friendships was the food. I think of those barbecues and I can taste the juice of sticky sweet watermelons, I think of strawberries picked from the bushes in the backyard, and of fingers stained a myriad of rainbow colours from Fun Dip.

But most of all I think about the kitchens - ours and the one next door. While our house was filled with the flavours of India and England, theirs was bursting with those of Italy. So as much as my Grandmother's shepherd's pie and my Mother's chicken curry figure largely in my remembrance of childhood, so do jars and jars of pickled red peppers, tender veal cutlets, and handmade breads for the holidays. The alchemy of homemade wine was a mystery to us. I was fascinated by the yearly ritual, and the enormous glass carafes that would take up residence in the basement. Oh goodness, and Nutella - that wonderful dark chocolate and hazelnut spread that is nothing short of ambrosia to a 6 year old.

As kids, we ate all meals at home, walking home from school at lunchtime. As far as I can recall, the business of meals was simply part of the daily ritual. I never had the impression that it was a bother, or that it was a chore (though it must have been, sometimes).

I cannot help but think that it was this assumption of good, fresh food that has shaped how I cook today. Even when tired or frustrated, it is not often that I am too tired to cook. I may be vexed about my day, but I am not vexed about the food. Sure, it may sometimes be simple, but the process of preparing food is integral to the routine of my day; I feel I have forgotten something without it.

I am thankful for those early influences, and that food and philosophy are remembered fondly - and often. As with most of us, I am sure, pasta has endured as a comfort food in our household. In its preparation, I sometimes stop to remember those meals from years ago, hoping I can come close to those tastes.

While this vegetable bolognese is far from traditional, and nothing I had as a child, it still brings me that sense of comforting nostalgia. Slowly stirred aromatic vegetables cooked until deeply flavoured and tender, then served with hot pasta and a snowfall of Paremsan - how memorable is that?

Vegetarian bolognese
My version was a combination of recipes; as I did not write down quantities as I cooked, I thought it best to simply provide the same guides I used. If anyone would like specifics, please feel free to contact me.

Sources:

• Pappardelle with vegetable bolognese from Epicurious
• Rigatoni with vegetable bolognese from Giada de Laurentiis

Specific changes and notes:

• Added 1/2 a large eggplant and 1 medium zucchini to the vegetables called for. As I prefer my mushrooms and eggplant to be well caramelized and golden, I cooked them separately from the rest first, then added them to the soffritto as per the recipe.
• 6 oil packed sundried tomatoes were puréed and added along with the tomato paste.
• The wine was replaced with vegetable broth and a splash of red wine vinegar.
• The photograph featured does not include marscarpone, as I intended to freeze a portion; the dairy is added just before serving, and I do believe the sauce needs a bit of richness at the finish. Full fat cream cheese can be used if mascarpone is unavailable.
• This sauce is particularly nice when thinned with a bit of pasta cooking water, then tossed through with your favourite medium tube pasta and chunks of fresh mozzarella.

White on white on white

2008-03-03T08:48:00.014-05:00

I am stuck in a monochromatic palette; mounds of pristine snow and a bleached-out sky offer a pale landscape out my window. The much-appreciated sunshine is bright and clear, but with none of its summertime golden hue.

While still beautiful, late winter makes you work just that little bit harder to feel welcomed. Whether it be wardrobe choices (layers are key), weekend plans (more layers) or what to eat (layers of flavour), these last few months of the season seem to require more effort than those preceding.

Late fall brings excitement over the return of slow-cooked braises, the opportunity to fill the kitchen with heat and heady smells of herbs and spice. Winter follows with resplendent holiday celebrations, with tables groaning under grand feasts. But now, in the doldrums of early March, the mornings dawn gray and pale. The sun valiantly attempts to stay awake for dinner, but often fails.

It is amongst all these pallid hues that we must still attempt to eat our greens. Spring and summertime salads can be made seemingly without thought; all I need are some sparingly-dressed tender young lettuces, or some grilled asparagus or sugar-sweet tomatoes freshly plucked from the garden.

Late February and March are a bit more challenging. Hardy winter leaves are often rather unyielding in their assertiveness, and can require equally dominant accompaniments to temper their influence.

That is not to say that the effort is unrewarded; milk-coloured Belgian endive, paired with pungent Roquefort and pears is a wonderful balance of bitter, savoury and sweet. Juicy grapefruit segments are the classic counterpoint to aromatic slivers of shaved fennel. Or, as in here, the wild, barely-green curls of sharp frisée compliment salty Parmesan and a honeyed vinaigrette. The lively layers of texture and taste (almost) make one forget the winter lurking just outside the door.

Epilogue: I should mention that I started writing this post over the weekend, when we were blanketed under snow and dealing with temperatures in double-digit negative degrees Celsius. Mother Nature was evidently in a benevolent mood, as today the sky is positively robin's egg blue and we have been granted an absolutely balmy 15ºC. The snow has melted, and I even have some windows open.

Tomorrow is going to be -4ºC.

Salad of frisée, apples and Parmesan
My own simple creation. Candied nuts can be used instead of the roasted, and pear substituted for the apple. White balsamic vinegar, albeit untraditional, adds an interesting character to this vinaigrette. If unavailable, Champagne vinegar would be my recommended choice.

Ingredients
1 teaspoon grainy Dijon mustard
1 teaspoon honey
2 1/4 teaspoons white balsamic vinegar
2 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
Salt and freshly cracked black pepper
12 pecan or walnut halves, unsalted
1 small head frisée, washed and dried, root end removed and roughly torn
1 small apple, gala or cameo preferred, thinly sliced
A few shavings of Parmesan cheese, to garnish

For the vinaigrette; in a small bowl whisk together the mustard, honey and white balsamic until combined. Whisking constantly, slowly add the olive oil until the vinaigrette becomes emulsified and thick. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Set aside.

In a dry skillet over medium heat, lightly toast the nuts until fragrant. Remove from pan, set aside. In a bowl, toss together the frisée, apple and nuts. Pour over about half of the vinaigrette and toss gently. Check for seasoning.

Divide the salad between two serving plates, garnish with Parmesan shavings. Drizzle additional vinaigrette over the plates, reserving some to be served alongside if desired.

Serves 2.

A spoonful of sugar

2008-02-11T10:45:00.001-05:00

With our impending arrival well on its way, we are currently attempting to reiterate the importance of sharing to our first born. Though his universe has happily (and steadily) revolved around Ben for the past two years, we have come to the point when patience, respect and understanding are becoming part of our daily conversations.

I am terribly thankful for his gaggle of contemporaries who help him in his education. He has had to learn that not everyone plays with blocks in exactly the same way, that many little hands can create stories with the Little People and that cuddles can be given to cousins and friends - not just Mummies and Daddies. He has started to learn to take his time with those younger, to allow for the independence of those older, and to realize that he is not the only one who would like a cookie. He has seen that our lives are interconnected with those of others; we share our days and ourselves, as well as our toys.

Such is the case with our Valentine's Day festivities. Even though Sean and I will have our own evening out, the day itself is saved for the shared celebration of both the sweethearts in my life. Each bring me such happy contentment, Benjamin will see that instead of choosing just one (something I could never do), I would rather choose to spoil everyone. He will see that treats, consideration and hugs can be shared equally, and that there is as much joy in the giving as in the receiving.

A weeknight family dinner calls for a dessert that is special but does not take too much attention away from enjoying everyone's company. Nothing too elaborate or fussy, an offering as perfectly sweet as those gathered around the table.

This cake is dense and moist, with the fine texture of a pound cake. The richness of butter and cream cheese is underscored by mellow almond and luscious bits of white chocolate that only almost melt into the batter. Perfect on its own, sublime when topped with raspberry sauce, and decadently stodgy as the base of a midwinter trifle - it is sure to send more than one heart aflutter.

If one happens to have miniature tube or Bundt pans, this batter makes adorable little plated desserts; the perfect size for two, or in our case three, forks to share.

White chocolate almond cake
From a variety of inspirations.

Ingredients
Melted butter for greasing the pan
3 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons salt
1 1/2 cups unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 8 ounces cream cheese, at room temperature
3 cups granulated sugar
6 large eggs, at room temperature
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon almond extract
3 tablespoons milk
1/2 cup finely chopped white chocolate

Almond simple syrup (optional)
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup water
1/4 teaspoon almond extract

Preheat oven to 350°F (175°C). Using a pastry brush or kitchen towel, lightly coat a 10" tube pan with melted butter.

Sift together flour and salt in a medium bowl. Set aside.

In a stand mixer with the paddle attachment, or with an electric beater, cream together the softened butter, cream cheese and sugar on medium-high speed until light and fluffy. This will take about 5 minutes, being sure to scrape down the sides of the bowl periodically. Add the eggs, one at a time, scraping down the sides again and beating well after each addition. Beat in vanilla and almond extracts.

With the mixer on low, add the flour in two additions, alternating with the milk. Mix until just combined. With the mixer still on low (or with a rubber spatula), stir in the white chocolate. Pour the batter into the prepared pan, mounding the edges up slightly and leaving a bit of a furrow through the middle. Hit the pan against the counter to remove any trapped air bubbles.

While cake is baking, combine the water, sugar and almond extract in a small saucepan over low heat. Cook until the sugar is dissolved and the syrup becomes thick.

The cakes should be done after 75-85 minutes, until a cake tester inserted in the centre comes out clean and the top is golden brown. Allow to cool in pan, on a wire rack, for 10 minutes.

Turn the cake out onto the rack (see note) and, use a pastry brush to coat the cake entirely with the syrup. Allow to cool completely.

Notes:

• You will want to suspend the rack over a sheet pan to catch the excess glaze. A spoon can also be used to glaze the cake, but I prefer the finer finish a pastry brush offers.
• For a citrus variation, omit the almond extract and white chocolate from the cake. Add 1 teaspoon grated zest of your choice and one tablespoon of freshly-squeezed juice replaces the same amount of milk. For the syrup, omit the extract and substitute juice for the water.
• For a chocolate chip version, the white chocolate can be substituted with 3/4 cup bittersweet and the almond extract can be omitted (but this is not necessary). The syrup is made more of a glaze, substituting the extract with 1 teaspoon cocoa powder and boiling the mixture gently for 5 minutes. Spoon this over the top of the cake, allowing it to dribble down the sides.

An everyday sort of thing

2008-01-24T14:01:00.000-05:00

I wish I could say that every dish I made had a fabulous backstory. Something compelling, or educational or even enticingly tempting. Heck, I would even settle for vaguely amusing sometimes. But sadly, that is not the case.

In truth, most of the dishes that reach our table do so out of a straightforward need to stop the grumbling of our bellies. And more often than not, there is an emotional whim attached.

Such was the case with the menus we have enjoyed this week. A bitterly cold spell and some particularly heavy workloads took their toll by Tuesday, by which time we found ourselves in need of sustenance of both the body and spirit. That afternoon I called my dear Mum, not only for a bit of cheer but also for her minestrone recipe - a dish I have not had for years.

Preparing it for Sean and Benjamin brought instant comfort. All it asked of me was some idle chopping, followed by lazy stirring now and again. Just the sort of demand I could handle. The pot gently simmered on the stove, filling the kitchen with a heady steam. A mere half-hour later we were rewarded with a hearty meal, all slurped up with a spoon. I had meant to take a photo but we were far too impatient to allow for such an interruption.

On Wednesday the mood continued, though we were buoyed by the meal the night before. In anticipation of another late evening for Sean I set about making one of his all-time, desert island desserts - a crumble. Without enough produce to make the preferred apple version, I nosed my way through our pantry to assemble this apple and mixed berry hybrid. The frozen berries, a direct violation of my commitment to eating seasonally, add a bit of brightness to a dreary month with their luxuriously velvet juices coating the apples beautifully.

My finished product was what I had hoped; a buttery crust that gave way to a filling more subtle in its sweetness than other versions, with just enough spice to add some resonant warmth. An offering that was everyday but just a bit special, and altogether satisfying.

I wish I could say that this dessert was ground-breakingly interesting, but it is not. It is simply familiar, uncomplicated and good. Sometimes, that is more than enough.

Apple and mixed berry crumble
My own recipe. As laziness is an integral part of comfort cooking, the version pictured used frozen berries and their juices; resulting in a luscious sort of fruit slump on the plate. If you prefer a less juicy version, defrost and drain the berries before adding to the filling.

Ingredients
1/2 pound cold butter (2 sticks), diced, plus more at room temperature for pan
2/3 cup blanched, sliced almonds
1/3 cup unsweetened flaked coconut
2/3 cup packed brown sugar
3/4 cup rolled oats
1/2 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup all purpose flour
1/2 cup whole wheat flour
1 1/2 pounds tart baking apples, preferably Granny Smith, peeled, cored and cut into medium dice
1 1/2 pounds frozen berry mix, see note above
Juice and zest of 1/2 lemon
2/3 cup granulated sugar
2 tablespoons cornstarch
1/8 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon ground cardamom
1/8 teaspoon ground ginger

Preheat oven to 375ºF (190ºC). Lightly butter a 9"x13" baking dish and place this on a parchment-lined baking sheet.

In a large bowl, or in the bowl of a stand mixer with a paddle attachment, combine almonds, coconut, brown sugar, 1/4 teaspoon salt, oats and flours. Using a pastry cutter, or the mixer on its lowest speed, cut in 1 3/4 sticks (14 tablespoons) butter into the dry ingredients. When finished the mixture should resemble a coarse, uneven meal. Set aside.

In a large bowl, combine apples, frozen berries, lemon zest, lemon juice, sugar, cornstarch, spices and remaining 1/4 teaspoon salt. Toss gently to combine well. Pour fruit mixture into prepared baking dish and dot with the reserved butter.

Sprinkle topping evenly over dish, leaving a bit of the fruit peaking out at edges. Bake for 55-60 minutes, until the filling is bubbling and the top is golden brown. Allow to stand 5-10 minutes before serving.

Recipe Notes:
• You may want to adjust the sugar depending on your taste and the sweetness of the fruit.
• The coconut is an addition I always enjoy for textural contrast, but is not essential.
• The spice measurements are an approximation of "one good pinch" of each. Again, adjust as you see fit.

Sidenote:
• I our house this is a crumble, but I do see that some would call it a crisp. What would call it?

A backdated Benday

2008-01-16T02:28:00.000-05:00

For everyone kind enough to send birthday wishes to Benjamin, or to anyone interested, here is a peak at some of the birthday festivities. Thank you all for helping us celebrated our little man, and a special thank you to my brother for the above photograph.

This one of Ben's three cakes; spiced banana cake layers with carmelized banana filling, topped with brown sugar cream cheese frosting and a bit of salted mixed nut crumble.

Edited to add: For those interested in the recipe, the cake is a spiced variation on the banana layer cake with mascapone frosting from Martha Stewart's Baking Handbook. The frosting I use is Ina Garten's, with a bit of the icing sugar substituted for golden brown. Finally, I top it with a salted-nut praline crumble, of my own recipe.

91,188 thanks

2008-01-14T08:18:00.000-05:00

I do not believe any one of us could come up with words to sufficiently express our awe and gratitude for those who contributed to the success of this year's Menu for Hope campaign. In an astounding increase of 50% over last year, Pim has reported a final tally of $91,188 to benefit the United Nations Food Programme.

So kudos are deserved to those who organized the event, cheers to those who participated with some amazing prizes, and finally thanks to all those who were generous enough to bid. Last, but surely not least, congratulations to Eriko Frank, the recipient of a box of treats from yours truly. Please contact me at sevenspoonsbaking@gmail.com so that we can organize the details.

All the best to all of you, what a brilliant effort!

Akin to an aubergine

2008-01-08T09:05:00.000-05:00

I was out with my lovely Mum the other day and we came across these little violet darlings, all tucked in a box at the back of the market. Though not on our list of things to buy, neither of us could resist their charming size; so they were bundled up to be brought home.

Yes, we were smitten by fruit.

Beyond their diminutive stature, I think I was most taken with their weeble-ish physique. Their little tops and gently bulging belly struck a chord with me, and my own recently expanding equator.

Though I am sure some some of my southern spread can be attributed to holiday excess, I do have a far more pleasing reason for the plumpness - and my unexplained absence towards the end of last year.

My dear Sean and I are ecstatic to say that our Benjamin is going to be a big brother.

Some astute readers may have noticed that my aforementioned absence spanned three months, or one trimester. I had not meant to take time off, but morning sickness struck at all hours of the day and with unexpected ferocity. When I could eat I was restricted to a few, rather dull, foods in small quantities. Oatmeal and banana. Toast with a bit of cheddar if I was lucky. Rice with lentils. Not really the stuff riveting food writing is made of.

I must take a moment to express my deep gratitude, once again, to our wonderful family and friends. They came with meals in hand to make sure that my boys were fed and with cozy sweaters to make sure I kept warm. Thank you for all your support and enthusiasm, we are so terribly lucky.

And so, while our last pregnancy was never highlighted here, I hope that you all will welcome a mention or two over the coming months. I am happy to say I am feeling much better and I have resumed my role in the kitchen. I am unhappy to say I am missing soft cheeses terribly and that it is frustrating to see the lack of interesting non-alcoholic beverages at restaurants.

Soon Ben will be two (my goodness!) and in a few months he won't be the littlest anymore. Big changes around these parts, but each and every one will be met with the same silly grin we have been wearing ever since we heard the news.

Thank you all for your patience with me and for still being here!

Persistent memory meets opportunity

2008-01-01T10:08:00.000-05:00

While my husband does not share my love of cooking, I take great pleasure in the fact that he does share my love of food. With is combination of enthusiasm and appetite, he is a rewarding audience to cook for - appreciative and just a bit greedy.

While I was thrilled at recent gifts of cookbooks and foodie magazines, a part of me does think that my dear Sean was even more excited. After far too many days featuring the customary menus of the season, it was he that flipped through my new books, taking note of any particularly tempting ideas. Feeling a bit burnt out after the aforementioned feasts, I was all too happy to hand over the responsibility of culinary creativity (and the associated shopping trip) to my willing partner.

It is a strategy we have been known to employ, one that prevents me from falling into a routine of recipes and challenges me a bit to boot. I will admit to exercising executive privilege now and again, balancing Sean’s often-carnivorous tendencies with lighter fare or substituting ingredients I know are more suited to our tastes. The exercise keeps us both involved in the decision of what we eat, with Sean frequently, and pleasantly, surprising me with his choices.

Most recently, it was a recipe by Tyler Florence that piqued interest - fat noodles with buttered artichokes and crab. Looking at the requisite glossy photo presented alongside, the unctuous tangle of pasta and seafood immediately recalled Nigella Lawson's chili crab with linguine. Featured in the book Forever Summer and on the television series of the same name, hers is a recipe I have carried around in my mind for years. I vividly recall salivating over the sauce alone - luscious bits of pink crab meat specked fiery orange with chili. It was one that I have always intended to make, but have never found the occasion.

Not wanting to pass up the chance now, I combined the two recipes to best appease my (nagging) curiosity and to meet Sean’s request. The result was a triumph; rich enough to feel a bit special and celebratory, still fresh with bright lemon and peppery ribbons of green.

A harmonious beginning to a new year.

Linguine with crab and artichokes
My interpretation of recipes from Nigella Lawson and Tyler Florence. I had not intended to share this recipe, but after tasting it I decided it was worthy of a feature. My sincere apologies; some of the ingredient quantities are estimates as I did not weigh and measure as I cooked, as I usually do.

Ingredients
500 g linguine
1 large clove peeled garlic, or two if you are so inclined
2 teaspoons kosher salt
A good pinch, about a scant 1/4 teaspoon, dried chili flakes
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
3-4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
275 ml jar of artichokes, drained and rinsed well, halved if large
250 g crab meat, preferably lump
Zest and juice of 1/2 lemon
A handful of fresh parsley, chopped
A couple of handfuls of baby arugula (rocket), or other greens
Pepper, to taste

Put a large pot of well-salted water to boil. Cook the pasta, according to package directions or to taste. As the pasta will continue to cook when you toss it with the warm sauce, I would advise cooking until just under al dente.

Meanwhile, in a small food processor or pestle and mortar, crush the garlic, salt and chili flakes into a smooth purée. Set aside.

In a large skillet over medium heat, melt the butter and olive oil. When just melted, add about 1/2 cup of the starchy pasta cooking liquid, along with the garlic purée. Continue to cook, stirring, until reduced by about 1/3. When thickened, add the artichokes and gently toss to coat.

With the heat on low, add the crab meat, lemon zest and juice and stir to combine. Tip in the cooked, drained pasta, turning so that the noodles are well-slicked with the buttery juices. Add the parsley and arugula, continuing to turn until the greens are slightly wilted. Check for seasoning, garnish with additional chili and fresh greens if desired, serve.

Serves 4 as a main course, 6-8 as a light lunch or entrée.

Appliances roasting over an open fire

2007-12-24T15:42:00.000-05:00

It's snowing outside, and the view is so lovely that I can almost forget the fact I just set fire to my oven. The flames are out, and I'm telling myself the smokiness just adds an "open fire" note of festivity to the evening. These are the moments we remember for years to come ...

Hope your holiday season is as memorable as this has already been, without the unexpected flambé of course. All the best to you and yours.

Might I be able to tempt you?

2007-12-19T08:30:00.000-05:00

Decadent treats like these double chocolate brownie cookies could be yours ... but for a price. Bid to win a box of homemade goodies from seven spoons, with proceeds to benefit this year's Menu for Hope campaign. Full details on the Canadian entries are available here. Time is ticking away, so please bid today!

The greatest gift, continued

2007-12-11T21:38:00.000-05:00

Blackberry jam thumbprints have been a popular tradition for us. For further information on Menu for Hope 4, a worldwide list of prizes and full bidding details, please see yesterday's post.

I am a person who gets completely caught up in anticipation. I love the planning, the preparation and underlying sense of excitement that comes with any special occasion or event. There is a specific feeling to that time, a buoyancy of spirit that carries us through our days.

As one would assume then, this is the time of year that I hit my stride. November kicks off with a spate of family and friend birthdays, then leads into Diwali; December begins with more birthdays, rushes into the holidays and we are brought, breathless, to the New Year. Did I mention that we have five more birthdays to celebrate in January?

It is a blur of celebrations and smiles; a time when somewhere in between all the tinsel and merriment we take time to reflect on the greater gifts, the intangible ones, we have received throughout the year. I think it is this realization of how truly lucky I have been that gives me an extra push as we move through the season.

The lists are made, I am actually looking forward to wrapping, and the menu for our holiday meal is shaping up quite nicely. The last thing to do is probably my most treasured, and that is my holiday baking. After the five birthday cakes I have done in the last month, the switch to cookies marks a change of pace and a turn towards tradition. My offerings, for the most part, remain the same from year to year; half as a nod to the past and half in response to the requests of the recipients.

Today I am thrilled to add another name to my holiday list - yours. In support of this year's Menu for Hope campaign, I am offering a box of homemade goodies to the winning bidder. I will provide you with a list of treats, both savoury and sweet, and the choice is yours. And if you are extra nice, I may throw in an extra surprise or two. Shipping will be included, unless restricted by law.

Bidding may only give you a chance at winning, but it guarantees a little bit of joy to someone in need this holiday season. What is more worthy of celebration than that?

To bid, go to Firstgiving; the code for this prize is CA02.

The greatest gift

2007-12-10T09:09:00.000-05:00

As foodies/food bloggers/food lovers, we frequently talk about the soul-satisfying moments and memories we associate with meals. And it is at this time of year that we put aside those thoughts to instead turn our attention to feeding the body and the souls of those less fortunate.

Today marks the start of Menu for Hope IV the annual fundraising campaign created by Pim of the ever-charming Chez Pim. This year's event is in support of the UN's World Food Programme, specifically fthe school lunch program in Lesotho, Africa. There is a wealth of information available at Pim's site, as well as a truly beautiful, haunting photo essay from participants in the programme.Here is the full list of instructions, come back tomorrow for further details on my specific donation, though I've included a teaser at the bottom of this post:

To Donate and Enter the Menu for Hope Raffle

Here's what you need to do:

1. Choose a prize or prizes of your choice from our Menu for Hope above

2. Go to the donation page at First Giving to make a contribution.

3. Please specify which prize you'd like in the 'Personal Message' section in the donation form when confirming your donation. You must write-in how many tickets per prize, and please use the prize code.

Each US$10 donation will give you one raffle ticket toward a prize of your choice. E.G: A US$50 donation may be two tickets for UW99 and three tickets for CA02.*.

4. If your company matches your charity donation, please check the box and fill in the information so we could claim the corporate match.

5. Please check the box to allow us to see your email address so that we can contact you in case you win. Your email address will not be shared with anyone.

Check back on Chez Pim on Wednesday, January 9 for the results of the raffle.

Thanks for your participation, and good luck in the raffle!

* N.B: Canadian tax laws prohibit charitable donation receipts to be issued by registered Canadian charities for raffle or lottery tickets. The UNWFP is a U.S.-based charity; should any donation receipts issued, you will need to seek professional advice regarding applying them to your Canadian income tax return.

I have donated a rather delicious prize (hint: code CA02) prize, but more on that tomorrow. To whet your appetites so to speak, here are the roundup lists of all the prizes available:

• The main Menu for Hope IV campaign page on Chez Pim to browse the global prize list
• The Canadian Menu for Hope IV page on The Domestic Goddess

Buy now, buy later, buy often. Give the sentiment of the season, give joy, give health. Give.

As promised, here is a taste of what I'll be offering for this year's campaign:

More details, and entreaties, tomorrow!

All apologies and a plea - updated!

2007-10-17T10:19:00.000-04:00

I am always struck by the generosity and kindness of those of you who read this site. Even with my recent absence (which will be explained in an upcoming post), I have still been the regular recipient of a host of comments, queries and stories from many of you. I cannot tell you how much this all means to me.

It was in one of these recent messages that Lillian, an enthusiastic and engaging reader from Louisiana, took the time to mention a recipe and entry for gaufrettes she'd come across. From the book French cooking for Americans by Louis Diat, here is the entry. My thanks to her.

Gaufres

Trace French cookery through the years and you will find certain specialties such as Gaufres, appearing century after century. These thin crisp, waffle-like tidbits have been sold on the streets of French cities ever since the twelfth century. In those early days the marchands de gaufres, that is, the vendors who sold them, always set up business in the streets near the doors of cathedrals and churches on days of great religious festivals. There they made and sold their wares to the throngs of people coming from the mass, people whose devotions must surely have been interrupted by the drifting fragrance of gaufres sizzling outside. Gaufres are still sold in French cities but today you will find them more often in the parks where the youngsters congregate.

Gaufres are cooked in an iron called a gaufrier which has two flat iron plates clamped and held together by long handles. The iron plates are decorated with designs which become imprinted on the cakes and very old gaufriers have beautiful and interesting designs, many of which have some definite religious significance.

My mother baked a kind of gaufre on a baking sheet and rolled them on a small stick. When cold she filled them with a cream filling or whipped cream. They are called gaufrettes, sometimes cigarettes.

My favorites are Gaufres with Cream, sometimes called Gaufres de Bruxelles, made in an oblong iron which puts deep indentations on the cakes, much like an American waffle iron. I think an American waffle iron could be used. Bur for a real gaufrier, if you have nostalgia for one, seek out an importer of French cooking equipment to supply you.

Gaufrettes or cigarettes

In giving the proportions of ingredients for gaufrettes it is almost impossible to indicate exact measurements because the size of the egg whites and the kind of flour will affect the consistency. It is best to bake a trial one. If the finished gaufrette is so thin it breaks and cannot be handled, the mixture needs a little more flour. If on the other hand the gaufrette is thick and clumsy to roll, a little more melted butter should be added.

2 egg whites
1/2 cup sugar
vanilla extract (or seeds from bean)
3 tablespoons butter, melted and cooled
1/3 cup flour

Beat egg whites until stiff. Sprinkle sugar over them a little at a time and fold into egg whites slowly and carefully. Add flour the same way. Add butter, also folding it in carefully. Butter and flour a baking sheet and put into a hot oven of 450 to 475 degrees until pan is hot. Drop batter by tablespoons on the hot pan, spreading it as thinly as possible. Bake in a hot oven of 450 to 475 degrees a few minutes until golden brown. When done, roll while still hot around a stick about the size of a thick pencil. When cold serve plain or filled with cream filling of whipped cream.

Batter for Gaufres

1 1/3 cups flour
2/3 cup sugar
4 tablespoons butter, melted
2 eggs
1 egg yolk
milk (3/4 to 1 cup)
vanilla extract (or seeds from bean)

Sift together flour and sugar. Mix together egg and egg yolk, add to flour mixture and mix until smooth. Add butter, vanilla and milk to make a thin batter. (Batter should be about the thickness or a crepe batter.) Heat both sides of gaufrier on top of stove, then butter both sides. When butter is sizzling hot pour in a tablespoon of batter, spreading it thinly. Close gaufrier and cook a few minutes on each side, or until golden brown. While still hot roll around the handle of a wooden spoon or stick of similar size. Or if preferred leave them flat.

Gaufrettes with cream

These gaufrettes are baked in a special iron, one that is square in shape, and made with deep indentations, as contrasted with the usual flat, round gaufrier. It is in fact very much like a waffle iron. The finished gaufrette is both soft and crisp, is very light and exceedingly tender and delicate. The advantage of these gaufrettes over waffles is that they are served cold and so can be made up ahead of time. They are a very choice dainty for afternoon tea when something rich is desired.

1 cup flour
6 egg yolks
1 tablespoon sugar
1/4 cup cream
1/4 cup butter, melted and cooled
pinch of salt
6 egg whites

Put all ingredients except egg whites in a bowl and mix together. Beat egg whites until stiff and carefully fold into batter. Pour into a square gaufrier with deep indentations (or a waffle iron) that has been heated and buttered. Cook on both sides until brown. Remove and cool. Fill each of the small holes with sweetened whipped cream or Creme Patissiere (recipe follows). Makes 6.

Crème patissiere

Pastry creams include all the cream fillings used in making various kinds of pastry desserts. Some of these creamy mixtures such as crème patissiere are also the foundations for many other desserts or, as we call them, entremets. Since most of these creams contain eggs it is important to know how to handle eggs when adding them to hot mixtures. You can't just stir them in as you do many other ingredients because when eggs are added directly to a hot liquid they will curdle. Nor can you allow the mixture to boil after eggs are added because that, too, will cause them to curdle. (If the mixture contains a thickening such as flour or cornstarch it can be boiled for minute or two.) The following simple procedure will insure the desired smooth, delicate texture: add some of the hot liquid to the beaten eggs, stirring vigorously all the time, in order to thin them out a little and heat them up at the same time. Then turn this back into the hot mixture and stir constantly until boiling point is reached. Do not allow to boil. Remove from heat and pour immediately into a cold bowl and cool quickly. The quicker a pastry cream cools the better, and an occasional stirring will prevent a thin crust from forming on top.

3/4 cup sugar
5-6 eggs
1/3 cup flour
2 cups milk
1 piece vanilla bean (or extract)
pinch salt

Mix together sugar and egg yolks and work up with a spoon until the mixture is creamy and light colored. Add flour and mix just enough to combine it but don't work it up. Scald milk and vanilla bean. Add to egg yolk mixture, little by little, and stir until well combined. Turn mixture back into saucepan and cook, stirring vigorously, until it comes back to boiling point. Boil about 2 minutes. Remove vanilla bean (or add extract to taste). Strain and let cool, stirring occasionally, to prevent a crust from forming on top.

Please see original post below for the backstory.

Some time ago, one of my dear readers requested a recipe for gaufrettes, the delicate French waffle cookie. I divided my attention between research and the demands of a toddler, trolling my cookbooks and searching online. Sadly, I was disappointed with my findings. None of my cookbooks garnered success; on the upside I shall be using this as an excuse to buy more. After all that, the delay only came up with the following links:

Category Mistake
Sweet C
Free Cooking Recipes
Recipe Link

However, never having tried any of them, I am wary to recommend these results. And so, I'm appealing to the rest of my readers - do any of you have an absolutely fantastic, full-proof and wonderful recipe you would be so kind to share? Or would those with more expertise comment on the links I have listed? Please contact me via my profile or post your thoughts in the comments section.

I have tried this recipe from Williams-Sonoma for gloriously tempting pizzelle. While not exactly a gaufrette, I am more than happy to vouch for their deliciousness.

And to the original reader, thank you for your patience!

Baking, Sunday style

2007-09-10T18:46:00.000-04:00

After weeks of a heat that turned once-lush lawns to straw, this past Sunday dawned misty and gray. A constant drizzle pattered its way through the leaves, and the mercifully cool air smelled of damp earth.

It was a day to spend indoors, in the comfortable routine of business about the house, getting bits and pieces in order and lazily flipping through the weekend newspapers. By far, my favourite sort of day.

As far as food went, our menu was decided by consensus - following only our inclinations without worry of schedules or agenda. Immediate and extended family members stopped by for a cup of of tea, a chat or general diversion.

Some time in the early afternoon I caught wind of collected whispers, mentioned cravings for something as a snack, a cake perhaps. Nothing decadent, just a nibble of something a bit sweet.

Banana bread; this old fashioned loaf seemed the perfect fit for a rain-soaked Sunday afternoon. Studded with moist chunks of banana, their richness undercut by the acid twang of yogurt, this was the sort of loaf that sits on the counter with a knife nearby. For the remainder of the day we snacked, coming back for another slice, another crumb, whenever temptation arose.

Yogurt banana bread
This recipe yields a meltingly moist loaf with a cake-like texture. However it may look though, do not be fooled. This bread is not the overly sweet, dessert variety. The perfect partner to coffee, it is much more subtle in its charm.

Ingredients
1 cup all purpose flour
1/2 cup whole wheat flour
1 1/4 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
3 large, ripe bananas, mashed
1/2 cup well-drained yogurt (see note)
4 1/2 ounces unsalted butter at room temperature, plus more for greasing the pan
3/4 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup firmly-packed brown sugar
2 eggs
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

Preheat oven to 350°F (175°C). Lightly butter a standard, 9"x5"x3" loaf pan.

In a medium bowl, sift together the flours, salt, baking powder and spices.

In another bowl, mix the yogurt and banana together until well blended. Set aside.

In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the flat beater, beat the butter and sugar on medium speed, scraping down the sides of the bowl, until light and fluffy. It should take 3 to 4 minutes. Add the eggs, one at a time, with the mixer on medium speed and beating well after each addition. Add the vanilla and beat to combine.

Add half the flour mixture to the butter, beating on medium-low until blended. Scrape down the sides of the bowl, add the bananas and sour cream, beating until distributed. Add in the remaining flour, still stirring on medium-low until just combined. Transfer the batter to the prepared pan.

Bake in a preheated oven for about 1 hour and 10-15 minutes, until a cake tester inserted in the centre comes out clean the bread pulls away from the side of the pan. Cool in tin for 10 minutes, then turn out to a rack to cool completely.

Makes 1 loaf.

Notes:

• I used well-drained 1% yogurt.
• For the loaf pictured, the pan was the darker metal kind. For that reason, I reduced the oven temperature by about 15 degrees F to keep the exterior tender and golden. If this is the case with yours, you may need to adjust the cooking time accordingly.

2007-08-20T08:16:00.000-04:00

Images from our drive out to St. Jacobs. The Farmers Market, top photo (clockwise from left): honey-sweet nectarines from Niagara that were too good to resist; gorgeously fat and fiery radishes; an array of hot peppers in adorable little woven baskets; a field of perfectly crisp and tender beans. Trolling for antiques, bottom photo (clockwise from top): a display of vintage cameras; food tins with charming artwork; a scale fit for royalty; detail of a wall of kitchen utensils.

Dear Mr. Truant Officer*

2007-08-14T21:46:00.000-04:00

*Please see recipe added below.

Once these, the long legged days of August saunter in, I find it impossible to focus on anything other than gallivanting about. But who can blame me? With peach festivals, Rotary-sponosed rib cookoffs, world-class food fairs, you can understand my distraction.

Case in point. When you find yourself making espresso-laced versions of (almost kitch) molten lava cakes, for the simple reason that it is Tuesday night and it is a gorgeously cool evening, you know that you are lost.

Though my school days are a distant memory, my thoughts have turned towards notions of holidays and diversion, of idle pastimes and fleeting pleasures. But lest you think I have abandoned all thoughts of responsibility, I shall be taking you all along with me on a little field trip to St. Jacobs later this week. We will wander through aisles upon aisles of antiques, take a gander at local artisans and gather up armfuls of gorgeous produce, baked goods and specialty meats from the farmer's market.

My apologies for my absence, but please don't turn me in.

Espresso and chocolate fondants
My variation of these recipes.

Ingredients
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, plus more for greasing the pots
2 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped
3 ounces semisweet chocolate, chopped
2 eggs
1 teaspoon instant espresso powder
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
2/3 cup caster sugar
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour

Preheat oven to 400°F (200°C). Grease 4 x 150ml ramekins with butter (see note).

In a double boiler, or a bowl placed over a pan of just simmering water, melt the butter and chocolates together. Stir to ensure even and gentle melting of the chocolate; when just melted, remove from the heat and set aside to cool.

Meanwhile in a small bowl, whisk together the eggs, espresso, vanilla and sugar until the mixture becomes thick and slightly pale in colour. Add the cooled chocolate, whisking to blend well. Finally, stir in the flour until just combined.

Divide the batter among the prepared ramekins; bake on a baking sheet for 17-20 minutes, or until the tops are crevassed and cracked while the oozing underneath. Cool only for a moment and serve hot.

Notes:

• I use these little 150ml pots that I'm terribly fond of as the cakes will soufflé up just a bit and offer a charmingly springy top. However, you can also use a slightly larger ramekin (though I would not go larger than 250ml or 1 cup) for a denser, more deeply cracked fondant.

Unto the breach

2007-08-02T16:23:00.000-04:00

As a child of the 1980s, I have a deep affection for that era of roller skate - the ones with four wheels and the bright red, eraser-like stopper attached to the toe. I spent many an hour touring the neighbourhood in my skates, confident as can be.

Flash forward 20 years later and you can imagine my trepidation when my dear Sean strapped brand new rollerblades on me and assumed I would be steady on my feet. Facing the downhill slope of a rather steep hill, little did he expect the athletic debacle that would follow.

To make a long story short, I ricocheted off of a fence once or twice on my way down. Since then if faced with the slightest of declines, I am happy to veer off the road, sit myself down in the grass and watch the world roll by.

In this case I am all too happy to indulge my cowardice.

But one arena in which I have rarely shown fear has been the kitchen. Whether it was youthful exuberance or sheer naive ego, I would be hard pressed to remember a recipe that I have shied away from due to lack of experience. I will either place my confidence in quality of the recipe or in my own common sense, and then pray for the best.

That is not to say that errors have not been made; I could tell stories of some spectacular culinary failures that culminated in me laughing and crying all at once, as I reached for the phone to order takeout. But for whatever reason, these catastrophes have never fazed me. A simple shrug of the shoulder later, a wipe down of the counters and I am usually ready to tackle my next attempt.

It was with this touch of hubris that I made my first soufflé. Not smart enough to heed the many horror stories of fallen hopes, I happily whipped, folded and baked my way to airy perfection. Maybe it was assuredness that was the secret of my success. Maybe it was my assumption that all will be well was what made it so. Since that triumph, I have never looked back; both savoury and sweet offerings have graced our table. I have fallen in love with soufflés, with their luscious eggy density and slightly tender belly.

This corn and cheddar version has been a favourite since first taste. With a subtle background heat playing off of the sweetness of fresh corn, it is a wonderful balance of flavours for a light summer supper. The procedure is surprisingly simple and forgiving; stir the roux patiently, do not overwhip your egg whites, fold the batter gently. Bake until set without peeking in the oven, and your bravery will be rewarded with awe at the table. Who needs a greater ego-boost than that?

Sweet corn and white cheddar soufflé, with herbs and chili

Ingredients
Kernels from 2 ears of fresh corn
1 medium onion or 2 large shallots, cut into small dice
1 small red chili, finely minced
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
3 tablespoons butter, plus more for greasing the ramekins
2 tablespoons plus 1/3 cup finely grated Parmesan cheese, separated
3 tablespoons all purpose flour
1/8 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1/8 teaspoon ground nutmeg
3/4 cup milk
3 eggs, separated
1/2 cup grated aged white cheddar
1 teaspoon chopped parsley
2 teaspoons chopped basil
1 tablespoon chopped cilantro (coriander)

Preheat oven 375°F (190°C). Lightly grease four 3/4 cup capacity ramekins with butter, then coat with Parmesan.

In a sauté pan over medium heat, melt one tablespoon of the butter. Add the corn, onion and chili and cook, stirring, until the corn is tender and the onion is translucent. Remove the vegetables to a small bowl and set aside to cool.

In the same pan over medium low heat, melt the remaining butter. Whisk in the flour, cayenne and nutmeg, then cook this mixture for about 2 minutes. Slowly add the milk, whisking constantly to combine. Continue to cook, for about 3 minutes, until the sauce is thick and smooth. Turn off the heat, whisk in egg yolks, cheddar, remaining Parmesan and herbs. Stir in the corn and vegetable mixture. Set aside.

In the bowl of a stand mixer with the whisk attachment, or with a hand mixer, beat the egg whites to stiff (but not dry) peaks. Using a spatula, fold one third of the egg whites into the soufflé base. Continue to fold each third in, only until just combined.

Divide the soufflé batter among the four prepared ramekins. Sprinkle with additional finely grated cheddar or Parmesan, if desired.

Gently place ramekins into a roasting pan or large casserole dish. Fill the pan with water from a recently-boiled kettle, until it comes halfway up the sides of the ramekins. Bake in the preheated oven for 20 minutes, until crowned and golden.

Serve immediately, makes 4.

Notes:

• For a more impressive crown to your soufflé, rather than one that will just coyly peek over the edge of the dish as seen here, use a slightly smaller ramekin.
• When folding in the egg whites, I usually let a few streaks of white to remain for my first two additions as I know those will dissipate with the last addition. This allowance will prevent you from overworking the batter and deflating the volume.

The lifespan of a currant

2007-07-30T11:32:00.000-04:00

A peek at what has kept me busy the last few days. Red currants, fresh from my brother's garden, fill an iconic Ontario basket.

The fruit takes a quick cooling dip before heading off to the steam bath otherwise known as the jam pot.

I used a recipe, but not the method, from the formidable Mrs. Beeton, lifted with the addition of some fresh lemon juice and rind. The rind lends a familiar sticky tang, making the finished product worthy of its new moniker "jamalade."