A second helping

Photo courtesy of my ridiculously-talented brother.

I started to think about writing this announcement this past Mother's Day; it seemed a suitable occasion to attempt to collect my thoughts and to begin to find the words to properly convey how very lucky I feel in life, especially in regards to becoming a mother for a second time.

Even though I have tried to maintain the focus of this site to be food and recipes, I have been nothing short of humbled by the excited and supportive responses I have received whenever my personal life has been made mention. The encouragement, kindness and advice has been an unexpected bonus to my writing, and I am wholly grateful to all of you who continue to visit.

Seven spoons has been, as I have said, inextricably tied to many important milestones in my life, and the life I share with Sean and Benjamin. It has brought me what will surely be lifelong friendships and expanded my culinary and professional horizons. Most of surprisingly of all though, it has brought me a new sense of perspective and purpose.

When these words are published, it will mean our perspective has shifted again. Our threesome has become four and I will be beginning to see that Ben, though forever and always our baby, is no longer the baby; he is now a full-fledged big brother.

I am sure that this new journey will bring many more adventures, lessons and memorable meals. I do hope that you all will join me in exploring this new territory and enjoy the stories to come. As the next little while will be a tad hectic on our end, I will be shifting the content of the site from original recipes to feature more book reviews as well as resurrecting my "Taste to Go" columns, spotlighting products and purveyors of which I am particularly fond. As soon as time (and a newborn) permits me, please look out for this new content. Finally, I will be featuring more of the photographic talents of my big brother Anik and his equally-gifted wife Rene; they both have skills that far surpass mine and I am thrilled to have them contribute to the site.

Until then, we once again thank all of you. We have to thank our family for always being there with the standing offer of babysitting and for being a source of constant strength. To our friends, thank you for being such wonderful Aunties and Uncles to Benjamin, confidants to us and a wealth of boundless enthusiasm.

And finally I would like to take a moment to thank my dear Sean, our bundle of boy Benjamin, and this latest addition to the family for being everything to me.

[William was born on June 11th at 12:22PM EST, and is a handsome fellow.]

See you all soon.

A backdated Benday

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

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

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!

Appliances roasting over an open fire

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?

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

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

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!

SHF #32: My (ice cream) craving

When Jennifer proposed the theme of this month's Sugar High my thoughts, as one who knows me at all would surely assume, turned to yearnings for chocolate.

But, though happy in those thoughts, I began to consider that which I most longed for as of late. Not a food or flavour specifically, but more of a mood or moment - I'd been pining for the arrival of summertime.

Sure, the mercury has been on the rise and the trees are well dressed in their abundant leaves, but somehow it still has not felt summer enough. It was not those broad shouldered, blue-eyed lazy days of August, where the sun smiles so brightly that the world seems lit from within.

So how could I evoke this feeling through food?

In southern Ontario, the warming months bring bustle back to farmers markets. Roadside fruit stands seem to multiply exponentially overnight. Punnets, pints and bushels make their way back into our weekend lexicon as the harvests roll in.

And the harvest inextricably tied to the season? Berries. Luscious and bursting with a sweetness born of sunshine, the ripening of Ontario strawberries coincides perfectly with the official start of summer.

Classic in every way, this strawberry swirl ice cream embodies nostalgic thoughts of childhood holidays. This is the taste of evenings on the swingset at my favourite ice cream stand; white stripes of cream coating our arms to our elbows as we sat, sucking the icy bits of strawberry until they turned supple and soft again.

Here, I wanted a taste that was purely luxurious berries and cream, and so chose to go with a dense, velvety rich vanilla custard base punctuated with tart strawberries. The psychedelic tie dye effect of broad ribbons of reddest red against the creamy whiteness was the look I had wanted, but feel free to blend the strawberries further for a more feminine hue.

Strawberry swirl ice cream
My interpretation of a variety of sources, with thanks.

Ingredients
2 cups half and half (10%) cream
1 vanilla bean, split lengthwise
A pinch of salt
5 egg yolks
1 cup heavy cream (35%, whipping)
2/3 cup plus 1 tablespoon sugar, divided
2 cups fresh strawberries
1/8 -1/4 teaspoon fresh lemon juice

Prepare an ice bath using a large bowl full of ice and water. Have another bowl, one that will fit inside the first without becoming fully submerged, set aside.

In a heavy-based saucepan pour in the half and half. Using the back of a knife, scrape the seeds out of the bean and into the saucepan, add the pod as well. Season with salt. Over medium heat, bring this mixture to a simmer. Turn off the heat and allow the vanilla to infuse into the liquid for 30 minutes.

Turn the burner back on and bring the mixture back to a gentle simmer over medium-low.

In a bowl that can withstand heat, whisk together the egg yolks and 2/3 cup of sugar until it becomes pale yellow and fluffy. Whisking constantly, pour a thin, steady stream of the half and half into the yolk mixture. Once combined, pour the mixture back into the same saucepan and return to the heat. Using a wooden spoon, stir the custard constantly until thickened and coats the back of the spoon, anywhere from 6 to 10 minutes.

Using a medium-fine mesh sieve, strain the custard into the clean bowl set aside earlier. Immediately place this bowl into the ice bath. Stir occasionally until the custard comes to room temperature. The vanilla bean can be taken at this point, rinsed and set aside to dry on a kitchen towel. Once dry, it can be used to make vanilla sugar.

Once the custard has cooled, stir in the the heavy cream. Cover and refrigerate until well chilled (I like a good couple of hours).

Meanwhile, mash the strawberries with the remaining 1 tablespoon sugar and lemon juice. Set aside at room temperature to macerate.

When the custard is chilled, follow the manufacturer's instructions to churn the ice cream. Once the ice cream is ready, remove the machine's dasher and gently fold in the strawberries and their juices. Do not overmix. Transfer to a food storage container then tightly seal and freeze for at least 2 hours.

Makes 1 quart.

Notes:

• Decadent as this version is, richer versions feature as many as 6 egg yolks for the same amount of liquid and a higher ratio of heavy cream to half and half (or milk). Choose the one that best suits your taste.
• If there seems to be too much accumulated strawberry juice, hold some back to maintain the texture of the ice cream - you do not want it to become waterlogged (well, juicelogged).
• For a pink version, rather than the marbled result here, strain the accumulated juices from the strawberries into the cooled custard before pouring into the machine. Add the strawberries through the feed tube during the last 5 minutes of churning.

SHF #31: The roundup

Whew. When I was first approached by Jennifer to host this month’s Sugar High Friday, I approached it with nervous optimism. Everyone’s had that feeling, that illogical fear of “what would happen if I threw a party, and nobody came?”

Thank goodness for food bloggers. I did not expect, and could not have hoped for, a more enthusiastic and supportive group of contributors to this month’s event. From the dramatic to the sublime, these desserts celebrating the shades of white run the spectrum. 45 entries from around the world, are all delicious variations on the theme. What a party!

Again, my gratitude to those who participated, and those of you who have come by to see the results of our little event. Cheers to Jennifer, once again of the Domestic Goddess, who will be the host of next month’s SHF installment. It will be a confectionery celebration of Canada’s 140th birthday on July 1st - look out for the announcement and details on her site.

And with that, on to the desserts; click the photos to link to the author's site ...

SHF #31: A belated Mother's Day, in shades of white on white

It is always difficult when one is faced with the dilemma of following ambition or sentiment. Do you go with your aspirations, or do you follow your heart?

When considering my entry for this month’s Sugar High Friday, I ran into that exact puzzle.

On the one hand, I was inspired to try something challenging - something a bit avant garde and terribly, terribly chic. I envisioned a multi-component dessert, gorgeous and elegant, along the lines of the creations of Pierre Hermé or Thomas Keller.

Reining in my enthusiasm, I stopped to focus my thoughts. When thinking of white, what was my first impulse? Without question, the answer was clear - coconut. And whenever I think coconut, thoughts of my dear Mum are never far behind.

For as long as I can remember, my Mum has loved coconut. Even though she’s not known for indulgence, I automatically associate her with those coconut-filled bonbons that are part of any box of assorted chocolates. Coconut macaroons, there's another favourite.

The more I thought, the more I realized my Mother’s coincidental fondness for pale-coloured ingredients. Meringues, pavlovas, custards ... all are sweets high on her list. In fact, whenever she comes across any dessert involving meringue or coconut in my cookbooks, the recipe is usually met with a sigh of appreciation.

With that in mind, I decided that for my entry I would make something for my Mum.

And so my conundrum. My Mother is direct in her likes. She is one that favours a laden table with family and friends over a plated meal any day. She hosts with thoughts of bounty and abundance, of making sure that everyone is fully taken care of. Between her and my Father, I would be hard-pressed to think of an occasion when I have left their house hungry.

A dessert that was twee or over-styled seemed inappropriate for her. Something simple, but pretty, and utterly delicious; that was surely the route to choose. Heart won out over headstrong ideas of culinary feats, and a coconut cake was where I settled.

Buttery, tender and (somewhat suprisingly) not too sweet, this cake is traditional home baking at its best. Far from the cellular sponginess of a boxed cake, the texture is toothsome with shredded coconut. The filling, not called for in the original recipe, is from Martha Stewart. It is a thick but not a cloying curd, studded with even more coconut strands and adding a welcome custard blanket over the layers. I chose a Swiss meringue buttercream for its marshmallow richness that is dense, but still light to the tongue.

This entry truly became a family affair. Many thanks to my nephews, one who particularly loves coconut, for gobbling up the result of my work. And my gratitude goes to my brother for taking two of the photographs featured.



Old-fashioned coconut layer cake
Ina Garten's variation on the famous coconut cupcakes from her Barefoot Contessa Cookbook. I've added a coconut cream filling and chosen a Swiss meringue buttercream for the frosting.

Recipe
Coconut cream filling
1/2 batch Swiss meringue buttercream
150 grams flaked coconut

Notes:
• I split the cake into four layers. This cake is rather delicate and crumbly with all the shredded coconut; take particular care when cutting and assembling the layers.
• For the cake, I substituted 1/2 cup unsweetened coconut milk and 1/2 cup sour cream for the regular milk called for. I also substituted 1 cup plus 2 tablespoons of cake flour, for 1 cup of the all-purpose flour, for added whiteness of the final crumb.
• I cut down the almond extract, as I felt it overshadowed the more delicate vanilla and coconut.
• For the cream filling, I substituted 1 cup unsweetened coconut milk for the regular milk called for.

SHF #31: A reminder

Next week is the deadline for contributions to the latest installment of Sugar High Friday; desserts with the theme Shades of White. Full details here or simply see below. I am planning something with mountains of meringue, coconut and cream. I hope you are all similarly inspired.

SHF #31: Neutral territory

Ahh, the changing personality of white.

The milkiest tones are soothing and fresh, while the chalkiest are stark and dramatic. The slightest shades of suggested colour bring moodiness and depth. It can be the quality of light on a blisteringly hot summer’s day, or the muffled whiteness of a snow-covered landscape. Almond, cream, malt, vanilla, buttercream; all not only evocative colours, but flavours as well.

With this tempting palette in mind, I am happy to announce Shades of White as the theme for this month’s Sugar High Friday, the dessert-based food blogging event created by Jennifer of Domestic Goddess fame.

Participation is simple; make a dessert featuring your chosen hue of white. Anything from the palest of champagne ices to frothy zabaglione to the barest tan of hazelnut cookies. Or let the character of form inspire; are you drawn to the simple elegance of blancmange, or the childhood taste of marshmallow, or the towering excess of a meringue crowned pie? The possibilities are endless.

Then, let us know about your culinary artistry, maybe explaining why you chose this dessert or what you liked about its particular shade. I will post a roundup here, so we can compare notes.

Here’s how it goes.

1. Sugar High Friday #31 roundup will be posted on Friday, May 25, 2007.

2. Please post your recipe on your site on Monday, May 21st, then email me by Noon EST Wednesday, May 23, 2007. Be sure to include your name, your blog name, your location, the recipe name and a permalink URL to the story. If possible, please provide a 100 x 100 pixel photo of your masterpiece, so I can include it in the gallery for the roundup. For ease of organization, please label the image file the same as the name of the dessert.

3. If you do not have a blog, please feel free to post your thoughts, ideas or feedback in the comments section of the Sugar High Friday posts. If you have a longer comment, you can also email me, and I will include your entry in the roundup.

One last thing, a plea - this is my first time hosting a food-blogging event. So be nice to the newbie! I hope you find the theme inspiring; I invite everyone to join.

Easter parade: portraits of a long weekend, part two

Buttery, sweet and absolutely the definition of indulgence; cinnamon spirals from the bakery at Springridge Farm.



Potato and egg tarts
My own recipe. Based upon baked eggs, crossed with a hash brown craving. Think of these as Pommes Anna for breakfast. See notes below for tips on the potato crust.

Ingredients
1 1/2 tablespoons butter
1 large Yukon Gold potato
salt and freshly ground black pepper
1/2 teaspoon minced fresh thyme leaves
1 tablespoon minced fresh flat leaf parsley
2 tablespoons freshly grated Parmesan cheese
1 medium shallot, minced
1 teaspoon minced garlic
4 large eggs
2 teaspoons cream (heavy or half and half)

Preheat oven to 450ºF (230ºC).

Melt butter in a small sauté pan. Set aside.

Using the slicer attachment to a food processor or a mandoline, slice the potatoes thinly. Transfer sliced potatoes to a large bowl of cold water. After letting them soak briefly, drain in a colander and then pat dry with kitchen towels.

On a baking sheet, brush the bottom and sides of two 4" non-stick round spring form pans, or ring moulds, with butter. Arrange the potato slices in a concentric circle to line the pans, beginning from the outside in to the centre (see note). Brush lightly with butter and season with salt and pepper.

Cover with a round of buttered aluminium foil and bake in the centre of a preheated oven for 20 minutes. Remove the foil and bake for an additional 10 minutes, or until the potatoes are cooked through and the edges are lightly browned.

Meanwhile, in a small bowl, combine together the herbs and Parmesan cheese. Set aside.

In the same sauté pan used for the melted butter, sweat the shallot and garlic over medium heat until translucent, about 10-12 minutes.

Divide the shallot mixture between the two pans. Carefully crack two eggs into each mould (you may want to use a separate small bowl to crack the eggs into first, then transfer them to ensure you do not break the yolks). Sprinkle over the herb and cheese mixture, spoon one teaspoon of cream over each and season well with salt and pepper.

Return to the oven and bake for 12-15 minutes, until the whites are cooked and just set. The eggs will continue to cook after you take them out of the oven, so take this into account when looking for doneness.

Allow the eggs to sit for approximately 1 minute. For the springform, use the tip of a butter knife to loosen the tart from the sides of the pan. Release the spring and use a wide, offset spatula to remove from bottom. If using a ring mould lift entire tart (with ring) to serving plate with spatula, then remove the ring.

Serves 2, best eaten immediately.

Notes:
• When cutting the potatoes, you will need them to be just slightly thicker than paper thin. The slices should be pliable, but still retrain their shape.
• Assemble the potato layer starting from the outside in; bend the slices to come up the side of the mould and form your concentric circle working towards the middle. Overlap each slice, and each circle, so that you have completely sealed crust. A bit of egg may still seep though; if the spaces are small this will bind the tart together rather than create a mess.
• Thin strips of ham or cooked turkey can be added to the shallot mixture. Alternatively, the cooked tart can be served with smoked trout or smoked salmon alongside.

Easter parade: portraits of a long weekend

Out and about at Springridge Farm, Milton, Ontario.











More to come ...

Farewell (for now) to a fallen friend

Please note, the following events are real and not intended for the faint of heart.

There has been a casualty at seven spoons.

A stalwart ally, a reliable provider and an invaluable assistant has been lost. After serving valiantly for seven long years, my KitchenAid Stand Mixer may have beaten its last batter.

This is the story of our last moments together.

It was a busy afternoon when I came to the idea of some impromptu, yet slightly complicated, baking. Usually when undertaking such an endeavour I set aside a bit of time, counter space and attention to the work at hand. However on this day while I already had a full schedule, I felt compelled to take on the project as it was a gesture of thanks to a dear friend. I thought it was only one more thing to do; surely I could multitask my way through the my to-do list.

I should have known better.

I was considering dinner, amusing a toddler in his highchair, then amusing a toddler as he perched on my hip as I prepped my ingredients. Sifting flour with overly impatient vigour sent a powdery cloud over my cookbook, the floor and the aforementioned toddler. With military precision and brisk pace, I measured, scooped, poured and set out the rest of my mise. With my little battalion lined up and ready to jump into the fray, I began.

Cream together butter and sugar. Such simple words of action, the mantra of any seasoned baker, little did I know that they would spell such tragedy.

I moved to set the Mixer to medium-high. After four clicks along the left lever, I was greeted by the familiar whir of the paddle attachment making its way around the gleaming stainless bowl. Benjamin and I watched as the Mixer made quick work of smoothing out the softened butter; after only a few moments dandelion colour turned to straw, pliant and yielding under the blade. The lever was switched back to its first position, and the Mixer slowed for a momentary rest. After attentively scraping down the sides, I added the granulated sugar and firm-packed brown to the bowl.

With a deft flick of the finger, such a trifling gesture really, the Mixer was woken once more; it moved from its slumber back to four-notch action. It was then that I turned my back to attend to the peek-a-boo demands of my other kitchen help. Caught in mid peek, I heard the Mixer gasp, then strain. I whipped around, immediately reaching for the suddenly-elusive lever; but it was too late. As I lunged, the straining turned to a rattle and the Mixer seized.

I peered inside the bowl - in the midst of a silken cream of sweetened butter there was something else; something now firmly wedged between the paddle and the edge of the bowl.

In my military precision, I evidently lapsed in my military attention to detail. While scooping the brown sugar, I missed a hard lump. About the size of a ping-pong ball, what by all accounts seems a inconsequential size, it was able to take down my steely workhorse.

The Mixer had seen me through countless celebrations; holidays, birthdays, consoler of battles lost and hearalder of battles won. It has stood by me from university to career changes, through relationships to marriage and motherhood and followed me on four moves. A constant presence in a blur of activity.

The estimated time of death was 3:21 p.m.

Epilogue: My dear Sean, fan of the Mixer, has promised to find a specialist to assess the situation. In the meantime, its brother, one Mr. Burr Coffee Grinder is holding vigil on the counter. The Mixer is also survived by Food Processor and Artisan Blender. We still have hopes to one day expand our family to include Ice Cream Attachment.

At this moment, one year ago ...

... our lives completely changed. And for that, we could not be more thankful. Happy Birthday, bundle of boy.

Happy Halloween!

I hope your treat bags are stuffed to the brim.

A moment in the sun

It seems just yesterday it was spring and I was preoccupied with thoughts of pillows of ricotta and berries; yet the calendar tells another tale. Somehow four months have slipped by, each day feeling all too short.

I have been caught in a whirlwind of family, friends and new motherhood. Learning how to function in each of those roles, all the while furtively attempting to hold on to each precious moment of the lessons.

And suddenly, it is August.

Broad, blue skies are lit with late-summer sunshine. My meagre potted garden has exploded in riotous green. The frenzied pace of high summer has abated, along with its still heat.

Evidently tempered by the relatively moderate weather, my thoughts (even if not my schedule) have slowed to an easygoing lull. Whether it is the season, or sheer exhasution, this shift in pace has allowed me a moment to reflect and gather my thoughts before we move forward.

While eloquence seems to be called for, all I can do is take it all in and smile.



I’ll be posting a list, with recipes and links, of some of the dishes that have kept us busy. I promise you will not have to wait as long as the last time.

An introduction is in order

[Please note that the following post has been put up by me, Tara's brother, and that any errors herein are entirely my fault, I am too happy to be particularly accurate right now]



After nine months, three seasons and countless conversations, I do believe that it is time to drop some of the formality. And truly, the veil of anonymity I’ve been affording my friends and family has been gossamer at best.

First and foremost, let me present my dear S, otherwise known as my dear Sean. With whom, if you’re reading this, I have just welcomed our first child.

It seems the forces of the universe thought it would be an amusing coincidence that just as I was conceiving the idea for seven spoons, that it would be the opportune time for us to start our family as well. So as this endeavour has grown, so has my belly.

The decision to keep this impending arrival a secret has been a difficult one. Please forgive the secrecy, but as I was attempting to establish some sort of identity through cooking, I was also attempting to find some sense of self as an expectant mother.

With no possible way of hiding our news any longer, I can finally come clean over some of the lapses in updating - as Morning Sickness made its appearance around our household morning and night, or cravings had me eating steak weekly and avoiding chicken like the plague, or when my quest for blue cheese took me away from the computer.

I’ll be sure to fill you all in on the entertaining details in the coming months, along with our forays into cultivating this whole new palate at our table.

My gratitude goes out to all of you visited seven spoons, and those who have written. The comments, suggestions and friendships have been so much more than I could have hoped for. It is truly overwhelming.

I cannot express my gratitude to our parents, families and friends; how lucky we are to have such unconditional love in our lives.

I’ll talk to you all soon and until then, take care.

[Benjamin Thomas was born on January 16th at 2:28 a.m. EST, weighs 6 lbs 3 oz and is absolutely adorable. I'm sure Tara will have more details ASAP.]

'Tis the season for good intentions

We all do it. There is really no point in attempting denial. Pretty much everyone is guilty as charged.

I challenge anyone to pretend that they have not, at some time or another, shirked a bit of Holiday responsibility. Nothing serious I’m sure, but maybe it was a case of promising to bring a gift for a Secret Santa (less than $25, please), and in your last minute haste you spent a whopping $27.99 at the store on the way.

Or maybe you went so far as to reach back into the closet, pull out that untouched gift Aunt Meg and Uncle Stan gave you last year, snipned off the tag and presented it as your own contribution to the festivities. Regifting never hurt anyone, has it?

Or maybe you had promised to bring a home baked treat along for the annual neighbourhood open house, and somewhere in the purchasing, packing and pandemonium of pre-holiday prep, it completely slipped your mind. So you’re faced with a dilemma - head to the party empty handed or stop over at a local bakery on the way and hope nobody notices the price tag on the box.

I was in a similar predicament this morning. I had said, weeks ago, that I would be thrilled to participate in a cookie swap. I could already imagine the smell of baking butter and sugar wafting through the house; I envisioned cookie perfection, rows upon rows of gorgeous treats all waiting to be enjoyed. I poured over recipe books and magazines, scoured baking supply stores for sanding sugar and dried egg whites.

And then I got distracted. I’m not sure by what exactly, all I know is that it was suddenly the morning of the 27th, and my cookie jar had nary a crumb. Old Mother Hubbard has my sympathies.

Not willing to give up so easily (and with the bakery not opening for another three hours), I looked to my frequent saviour - the freezer. Armed with the last sheet of puff pastry, I improvised a holiday variation on an old classic, palmiers. Flaky and crisp, and glazed with a combination of reduced jam and cinnamon sugar, these cookies belie how easy they are to make. A quick roll and 12 minutes in the oven later, you are left with a tray worthy of any cookie-swap.

Happy holidays, indeed.

Holiday palmiers

Ingredients
1/2 cup strawberry jam
1/2 teaspoon freshly squeezed lemon juice (or more, if desired)
1 inch piece of lemon zest (optional)
1 cup sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon cinnamon (or more, if desired)
1 sheet puff pastry, defrosted as per package instructions

Preheat oven to 450º F (230º C). Line two baking sheets with parchment paper.

In a small saucepan over medium-low heat, combine the jam, lemon juice and lemon zest (if using). Heat until the jam is melted but before it reaches a full boil. Remove from the heat and allow to cool for about 2 minutes. Using a small spoon, push the jam through a fine-meshed sieve, discarding any seeds and the lemon zest. I advise some care here, as the jam will still be rather warmå. Set aside.

In a small bowl, combine the sugar, cinnamon and salt. Spread one half of the mixture over your work surface and lay the puff pastry in the middle. Sprinkle the remaining sugar on top, and begin rolling. Turn and flip the pastry frequently, pushing the cinnamon sugar into the pastry - you want an even coating. Roll until you have a 13” by 13” square.

With a small offset spatula or butter knife and working quickly , spread the jam over the puff pastry. The jam should be in a thin layer, reaching all the way to the edges of the dough.

Fold the side of the dough halfway to the centre. Fold again, so that the two folded sides now meet in the centre. Fold one half over the other as though you are closing a book and the sides are now stacked on top of each other. Place pastry log on one of the prepared baking sheets and chill for 10 minutes in the freezer.

Remove from the freezer and slice the log into 3/4 inch slices. Place slices, cut side up back onto baking sheets and chill for an additional 5 minutes.

Bake cookies for approximately 6 minutes until the filling is bubbling and glazed and the pastry is starting to turn golden. Flip the cookies with a spatula and bake for additional 5 minutes, until caramelised and puffed. Wait a minute or so, then transfer to a baking rack to cool.

Makes about 24 cookies.

Notes:
• You can use whatever variety of jam or jelly you would like for this recipe. Reducing a clear juice (for example, cranberry) would also make a suitable filling. The jam may be omitted all together, and a coloured sanding sugar added instead for a colourful spiral design.
• The palmiers are quite delicate when they come out of the oven. For flipping and transferring to a wire rack, always use a spatula larger than the cookie to maintain its shape. A light spray of cooking oil on the spatula may also assist in transferring.
• The cut palmiers can be individually frozen on a cookie sheet, then transferred to a plastic freezer bag for storage. They should keep for approximately 2 weeks and do not need to be defrosted before baking. Cooking time may need adjustment, though.

Fall's bounty

I have to admit, I’ve been walking around this week feeling rather lucky. I was recently given the opportunity to have a “tasting” of some of the finest produce Niagara has to offer – namely some of the apple harvest from Schouwenaar Orchard and Vineyards.

Located just outside St. Catharines, Ontario, this family farm has been producing outstanding fruits for the last 30 years. With their diversity farming, currently boasting no less than 35 cultivars on 12 acres of land, Schouwenaar Orchards and Vineyards has an array of varietals to sample.

Their growing season starts in late June, with gorgeous cascades of glistening red and white currants, black ones following about two weeks later. Raspberries and gooseberries are next, and amazingly plump and succulent peaches soon after. Caviar bundles of blackberries end the summer with their alternating sweet and tart juice — perfect for crumbles and cakes. The clear fall sunshine falls upon the apple orchards, full and fragrant, ready for harvest. Not finished just yet, we still have the exceptional Niagara kiwiberries on the horizon.

This week has been all about the apples though. And truly, is there a fruit better suited to the coming of autumn? I will be posting some of the recipes I am experimenting with, but first I believe a bit of an introduction is in order.

Apples, regarded as a household staple and a workhorse of the kitchen, are often neglected recognition for their contribution to our tables. Not as flashy as day-glow drangonfruit or as sensually appealing as a mango, apples quietly add body, flavour and depth to so many dishes, both savoury and sweet. Almost universally enjoyed and with approximately 7,500 known cultivars, there is a flavour and texture to suit any occasion.

The selection pictured above are just a sampling of those the Schouwenaar farm has to offer:

Gala, (centre)
Crunchy and juicy with a sweet-tart taste, these small, aromatic apples blend modern and classical parentage. A cross of the Kidd’s Orange and Golden Delicious, the Gala was developed in New Zealand in the 1930s. When young, the Gala starts out very light coloured, with orange streaks over yellow. As it matures, the apple turns much darker, often a strong red. It is a reliable all-around apple, best for salads and sauces and good for pies and baking.

Elstar, (from the Gala, top left)
Developed in the Netherlands and a cross between the Ingrid Marie and Golden Delicious, this medium sized apple has firm, cream-coloured flesh. The skin has a soft sheen and is mottled yellow and red. The Elstar is a multi-purpose variety, with a sweet tart taste, best for salads and sauces and good for pies and baking.

McIntosh, (counter clockwise, below)
Sweet with a touch of acidity, the McIntosh apple is probably one of the best known. Deep crimson skin and bright white flesh typify this apple, and a taste that is simple and direct. Even though there are more than 3,000,000 McIntosh trees in North America today, they are all from an original grove discovered on the farm of John McIntosh in Dundela, Ontario sometime in the early 1800s. Macintoshes cook down quickly, and so are ideal for sauces. If using in a pie, it is necessary to add a thickener such as cornstarch to bind.

Redcort, (to the right)
A limb mutation of the Cortland apple, this is a crisp, sweet and mellow-flavoured apple. Large red, almost purple sometimes, the Redcort has tender white flesh that is slow to oxidize. This is an excellent apple for desserts.

Honeycrisp, (to the right)
A new variety of apple, developed by the University of Minnesota, it is a cross between the Honeygold and Mancoun. With an avid following of fans, the Honeycrisp lives up to its name, with crispy juicy flesh that seems to snap when bit. Juicy enough to almost be considered effervescent, the taste is sub-acid and ideal for eating raw. The apple is large, with a mottled red over a yellow background. Perfect for most preparations, eating raw, baking, cooking and sauces.

Gingergold, (above)
A cross between Golden Delicious and Albermarle Pippin, this apple was discovered among uprooted trees on a Virginia orchard in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Medium to large with a smooth, greenish gold skin and a slight blush, these apples are slow to discolour when cut and maintain their crisp white flesh. Sweet and slightly spicy, this is an excellent apple for snacking and salads, and is best enjoyed fresh.

Schouwenaar Orchards and Vineyards

Their products are sold wholesale only. For those in the Toronto area they are featured at:
Badali Fruit Market – 1587 Bayview Avenue
Rock Garden – 16930 Airport Road, Caledon East
Hilite Fine Foods – 4-415 Horner Avenue
Golden Orchards – St. Lawrence Market
Highland Farms – Locations throughout Toronto
Harvest Wagon – Yonge Street
Parkway Fine Foods - 881 Elgin Avenue East

There are great resources for apple information available online. One article of particular interest, Skin Deep discusses the correlation between colour and taste of apples.

Look out for recipes next week.

Unpacking the boxes

Welcome to the new site! Moving has resulted in a bit of technical difficulty, and I appreciate everyone hanging in there! Hopefully today or tomorrow I will be starting my five cookbook spotlight, beginning with The Best by Paul Merrett, Silvana Franco and Ben O'Donoghue.

The essence of home

I’ve been putting off writing this post. The topic seemed simple enough, but whenever I tried to come up with an answer to the question, I was overwhelmed.

“What does Canada taste like to you?”

Deciding on one taste that most embodies the Canadian experience is, in my opinion, nearly impossible. With a country of such physical size and cultural contrasts, to concentrate on one flavour would be to exclude the thousands of other culinary adventures there are to be had.

To me, Canada tastes like maple syrup on my father’s French toast. I think of a butter-drenched crab boil on one coast, and Asian-influenced seafood on the other. Summer evenings wandering the streets of Montréal, shopping for decadent Opéra cakes. The requisite hotdog from Toronto street vendors. Breakfast cooked over a campfire, with smoky bacon and biscuits baked in a cast iron pan.

Canada tastes as sweet as summer fruit, as hearty as pierogies and as complex as our world-renowned wines. Canadian food reflects our varied climates, our landscapes and our seasons – it is the expression of the way we have created communities in this immigrant nation, and suggests the direction of what is to come.

Despite my travels, I would wager to say 85% of all the meals I’ve ever eaten have been in Canada. Seeing that I’m now somewhat obsessed with food, my food adventures this country surely have been nothing short of inspiring. Though I am itching to continue to travel the world and try new things, Canada will always be home to me. There is enough to explore down the street, throughout the province and across the nation to sustain me for years to come.

Maybe it would be easier if I concentrated on what Canada Day tastes like to me?

That’s easy. Growing up in a city on the edge of Lake Ontario, Canada Day meant one thing, and one thing alone – the annual Lion’s Club carnival. Every long weekend for the summer, the Lion’s Club carnival would make its rounds through local fairs and festivals throughout our region. And Canada Day was when it would come to my city.

Along with the other kids in our neighbourhood, I would watch the workers set up the tilt-a-whirl, Ferris wheel, and midway down by the beach. Soon enough, you could smell the popcorn and the air would become heavy with the sweetness of cotton candy. Twinkling lights would greet nightfall, and we would wait for the inky blackness to blanket the lake completely – setting the stage for the evening’s fireworks display.

Inspired by those memories, I’ve created miniature sweet wonton cones filled with icewine-macerated strawberries. The strawberries come from a nearby farm, the wine from a winery down the highway, and the wontons are my nod to Canada’s distinct cultural heritage. It is seasonal, the ingredients are local, and there is a bit of kitschy humour – how very Canadian. And red and white on Canada Day - how can you go wrong?

For an explanation of icewine and its production, click here.

Icewine strawberries in sweet wonton cones
My own creation, with apologies to Thomas Keller

Ingredients
1 pint strawberries
1/4 cup icewine
1 cup clarified butter
16 x 3 1/2” square wonton wrappers (4 are in case of mishap – and anyway, that is what my package contained)
2 tablespoons granulated sugar or Demerara sugar

Sweetened whipped cream, to serve

Speciality utensils
12 conical shaped metal forms (the type used for kulfi will do) or conical paper cups for water dispensers

Preheat oven to 350°F (175°C).

Hull and slice the strawberries, taking into account the size of your cone forms. Add the berries to a bowl and add the icewine. Stir lightly to combine, and refrigerate for at least two hours.

On a baking sheet, set out the metal forms or the paper cups. Brush each wonton on both sides with clarified butter. Wrap wonton wrappers around the cups to form cones, making sure to press the seams together. Twist the bottom to secure the point, if necessary. Lightly dust the cones with the granulated sugar, and bake for 7 minutes or until golden brown and crispy. Allow to cones to cool and remove from forms.

To serve, mound some of the macerated strawberries into your sugared cones, and top with the whipped cream.

Notes
• I used an Inniskillin 2002 Riesling Icewine for this recipe, thinking the floral apricot notes and bright acidity would complement the strawberries. Any icewine you enjoy would be suitable, or even a late harvest Vidal would be a great substitution, offering a bit of spice and sweet peach flavours.
• For Ontario readers, the LCBO does offer icewine in small bottles (a bit larger than hotel room minis). This size would be perfect to splash on a few berries, and are reasonably priced.
• I chose not to add sugar to the berries, but you may want to check for sweetness and add sugar accordingly.
• For the photograph, I used a non-sugared cone. It was terribly humid that day, and sugar was melting into a sticky mess. However, I would not suggest skipping this step as the wonton seems too savoury without this bit of gilding.
• The next time I make these cones, if I'm feeling particularly industrious that is, I think I would experiment with a tuile cone instead - if anyone experiments, please let me know!

Patriotic plates

It is frequently said that Canada, and by extension Canadians, have a bit of an identity crisis. As citizens of this post-colonial nation, with a diverse and scattered population, neighbours to a global superpower, our sense of selves seems in constant flux.

But don’t an ever-evolving cultural heritage belie our patriotism. Our commitment to multiculturalism, our languages, and even our relationship to our land speak of the pride we feel as Canadians.

A Canadian feast may include fresh seafood from the coasts, bison and beef from the prairies, soft fruit from Ontario, and maple syrup from Québec. Not to overlook the pierogies, curries, vinetarta, pizzas and bagels that reflect the varied faces of the Canadian landscape. It is this diversity that breathes Canada; and it is this culinary heritage that we will soon be celebrating.

In case you weren’t aware, a group of Canadian Food bloggers (myself included) will be participating in a Canada Day food blogging event, with the theme of “What does Canada taste like to you? “ For complete details and an introduction, please see the post by our lovely Domestic Goddess.

Please participate, the more the merrier. It is a great opportunity to celebrate our country and our online community, with very tasty dividends!