How we eat

I am a person who spends far too much time thinking about food.

Though this tendency could most likely be attributed to my simple greed, which I will not deny, I am also intrigued by the way that we relate to our food. I know I have said it before, and admired those who have said it more eloquently, but I am still fascinated by the way food can not only be a source of nutrition but also such a part of the way we live our lives.

Our meals can be a creative expression, a link to the past or an exploration of possibility. Or, we can eat to satiate the need to fuel the body.

I have been eavesdropping on an ongoing conversation regarding the place for shortcuts, take out and convenience food in the kitchen. The discussion touches upon the ever-increasing popularity of certain network television personalities and their accompanying “semi-homemade” philosophies.

Without taking a particular side of the table so to speak, I did stop to consider the food my family eats on a daily basis; outside of the grand food holidays and events, simply Monday to Friday sort of fare.

I have always eaten reasonably well. Lucky to have the luxury of a childhood in a family of cooks, convenience food and take out was the exception rather than the rule. In my early adulthood, I tried to get my 8-10 servings of vegetables per day, even if they were sometimes interspersed with a pint and burger at the local pub.

It was when I became pregnant that I really felt the impact of the food choices I made. I was suddenly responsible for more than just me and my waistline. With each bite, I realized what I was eating was what would sustain my child. What would help him develop, help him grow strong and nurture him before I could even hold him in my arms.

As you may well imagine, heavily-processed foods, caffeine, additives, nitrates and the like where not on the menu.

With Benjamin’s birth, a part of my Mummyhood has come to include the role of family nutritionist and meal provider. I know that I am the one that is, in large part, shaping the way he views food. The way he views how food is made. The way he views food as part of his life - as energy or as something more.

It is that something more that I think about most. I think about how somewhere along the way society developed this love-hate relationship with food. We love indulgence, yet hate the consequences; we move from extremes of decadence to extremes of denial.

In our day-to-day food is frequently regarded as an inconvenience; something that takes time from all the more important things that we have scheduled for ourselves.

I can only speak for myself. I can only say what works for me. I have chosen to make good food a priority. Not simply the act of eating, though I do believe in taking the time to eat as a family whenever possible, but also the act of shopping, preparing and discussing food. Nutrition, tradition, why we eat what we eat when we eat it - all of these are topics I hope to share with my son as I share them with my dear Sean now.

I want Benjamin to realize that sometimes things are worth effort or time, and that the proof is truly in the pudding. I hope he sees the beauty in a balanced life.

I will admit that there are frozen pizzas in my freezer. I will also admit that there are a stack of take out menus in a drawer somewhere. But I will also point out the recipe books, pots and pans and utensils that fill our cupboards.

I do not scorn convenience. Cooking may not be for everyone. But I will rally against the notion that cooking is nothing more than a chore. There is beauty in the process of making food, even when at its most basic. There is a poetry in it that tells you “this is worthwhile.”

I made this pasta as a quick dinner when my dear Sean was working late. Inspired by a love for spaghettti alla carbonara, all the elements of the original are here. Salty pork punctuating a tangle of creamy, egg-blanketed pasta. I have added chicken stock to the sauce for a fresher version suited for early spring. The mix of asaparagus and mushrooms also seem fitting for the season, and the crisped prosciutto is tender, yet still toothsome, among the pappardelle.

It should have taken about 10 minutes to come together, but again, priorities came into play. I stopped prepping once because of a potential altercation between Benjamin and Miss Billie the Cat (priority). I continued when Benjamin chose to dump his toys across the floor (not a priority). I paused again to kiss my husband hello (priority). Then I finished making dinner.

Far from Rockwellian, but we did manage for the three of us to end up around the dinner table; all eating the same meal, at the same time.

I, for one, felt truly nourished.

Creamy mushroom and asparagus pappardelle
Lighter than a traditional carbonara, but still retaining its charm, this pasta is a quick and satisfying weeknight meal.

Ingredients

4 slices prosciutto
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 shallots, thinly sliced
150 g trimmed and cut asparagus spears
250 g cremini or brown mushrooms, cut into halves or quarters depending on size
salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
175 g pappardelle
30 g grated parmesan cheese
Generous teaspoon thyme leaves
2 large eggs
1/3 cup mixture of chicken stock and cream, whatever ratio suits your taste

Cook the prosciutto under a preheated broiler for about 3 minutes, until crisp and lightly golden. Set aside.

In a frying pan over medium high heat, sauté shallots in the olive oil for about a minute, or until beginning to turn translucent. Add mushrooms and asparagus, season sparingly with salt and pepper and cook for 6 minutes or until the vegetables are tender. Reduce the heat to low.

Meanwhile, cook pappardelle in a large pot of salted boiling water until just under al dente, or slightly less than package instructions. Drain, reserving 1/2 cup of the cooking water. Add the pappardelle to the vegetable mixture, turning to combine. The pasta will darken as it absorbs the olive oil and juices from the vegetables. Crumble in prosciutto. Turn off heat.

Whisk together parmesan cheese, eggs, thyme leaves, cream and chicken stock in a small bowl.

Working quickly, add the egg mixture to the pappardelle and toss to coat. Continue to stir until the eggs are cooked and slightly thickened; the sauce will thoroughly cling to the noodles. Add the reserved pasta water as necessary until the desired consistency is achieved. Season with additional pepper.

Best eaten immediately. Serves 2 rather generously, or 3 when feeding one adult male with a hearty appetite, one adult female with a medium appetite and one greedy little toddler.

Notes:
• I used a ratio of about 3 parts stock to 1 part 10% cream. Use whatever amounts, and butterfat content cream, that suits you.
• Baby spinach can also be substituted for the asparagus. If you are lucky enough to come across fresh morels, they would be fantastic here.

Chocolate and charity; a sweet pairing

I am sure that anyone who hears about my endeavours in the kitchen would assume that I have one heck of a sweet tooth. And, really, I would be hard pressed to provide evidence to the contrary.

However, what one may not realize is that rarely do I truly overindulge in the confections that I so frequently describe; those are most often destined for family and friends, celebrations and gifts.

Of course I nibble here and there, but those who know me best know that my true achilles heel is ice cream; not surprisingly, my predilection of choice is most often in the form of chocolate.

Last evening I was looking for frozen creamy goodness - but sadly, my freezer was unexpectedly bare. Though my dear Sean would have been willing to retrieve my treat, it was a chilly night and I could not bear ask him to leave the warmth of our home (or namely, the comfort of the couch). I could have gone, but when faced with the option of going out in the cold, dark night or staying in my slippers and pottering about the kitchen, there is no contest.

With the Mixer out of commission, and me lacking the drive to do much more than stir, I had only one option: brownies. Fudgy and dense, satisfyingly decadent but uncommonly simple to make.

As luck would have it, I recently stumbled upon Jamie Oliver’s brownie recipe. The photo depicted what was surely the solution to my Monday doldrums. Nothing looked airy and light about these squares - they looked meltingly decadent, just the way I prefer a brownie.

After a modest amount of effort, we were rewarded with the smell of chocolate warming in the oven. Even my dear Sean, from the depths of the couch, was pressed to inquire "when will those be ready?" Gooey from the oven, these brownies made for stickey fingers and ebony-stained grins. The doldrums were a distant memory.

While not a pint of Häagen Dazs, sometimes a brownie will more than suffice.

Jamie Oliver’s bloomin’ brilliant brownies
Unctuous chocolate, tenuously bound by flour; they are more truffle than cake, bordering on a confection. This recipe is featured in Jamie's Little Book of Big Treats in support of Comic Relief.

Recipe

Notes:
• I opted to omit any add-ins (dried cherries, nuts). While I am sure that they would be delicious, I wanted nothing more than uniterrupted cocoa.
• I cannot bake anything with chocolate without a dash of vanilla extract and a bit of espresso powder. To my palate, they add a depth of flavour and make the chocolate more chocolatey. I added these, along with a pinch of salt, to the melted chocolate and butter mixture.
• When making brownies, the key to fudgy perfection is stirring the batter as little as possible once the flour has been added. With this in mind, I opted to add the eggs to the chocolate mixture first, rather than following the flour as indicated in the recipe.
• I only had a 9”x9” pan, rather than the 10” (25 cm) called for. The cooking time was increased to about 35 minutes (a 10 minute increase), but keep an eye on them after 25 minutes.

Please note, I have been establishing tags for archived posts. My apologies if this causes any confusion.

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.

Choosing substance over style makes commitment easy

I have never been ashamed to admit that I can be utterly shallow. Nor have I ever feigned ignorance of my obsession with chocolate in its purest form. However now and again a girl is struck by something that goes beyond infatuation and adoration. Something deeper than that; something that touches your very soul. Of course, I am talking about greed.

Were you expecting something different?

I will admit, maybe something along the lines of love and affection would be more apt for today - and I have been looking at lighter-than-air mousses and soufflés, pillowy madelines and coyly trembling panna cottas. But I cannot deny my want, nay the necessity, for something much more soul-satisfyingly decadent than a trifle of the palate.

Dense and rich, these squares are so very indulgent that one overlooks their rather indelicate appearance; they are reminiscent of a elementary bake sale treat but oh so much better. A tumble of chocolate, peanut butter and toffee chips, unctuous dulce de leche tempered by a ribbon of tart cheesecake ... sigh. Attempt to restrain yourself to just one.

Chockablock cheesecake squares
Fans of the famous recipe will note that the cookie base is a variation on the classic Nestlé® Toll House® cookies. I recommend cutting these into either 1 1/2”x2 1/4” bars or 1 1/2” squares.

For the cookie base
2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup (2 sticks, 1/2 pound) unsalted butter, softened
1 cup light brown sugar, packed
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 eggs
1 cup semisweet chocolate chips
2/3 cup peanut butter chips
1/3 cup of toffee bits

For the cheesecake layer
1 8 ounce package of cream cheese, softened
1/4 cup brown sugar, packed
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 egg

1/2 cup dulce de leche or caramel sauce (use up to 1 cup, depending on your taste)

Preheat oven to 350ºF (175ºC). Butter the bottom and sides of a 9-by-9-inch baking pan. Line with parchment paper, allowing for a 1-inch overhang on two sides to form handles.

In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda and salt. Set this aside.

In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a paddle attachment, cream together the butter and sugars on medium high speed until combined. Stop the mixer and scrape down the sides. Continue to beat the mixture, stopping to scrape down the sides as necessary, for approximately 3 minutes or until the butter is fluffy and pale in colour.

Add eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. Scrape down sides of bowl. With the mixer on low speed, gradually add the flour and stir to combine. Add in chips and candy. Refrigerate dough.

In the bowl of a stand mixer with the paddle attachment in place, beat the cream cheese and sugars on medium high speed until combined and smooth. Scrape down the sides of the bowl. On medium speed, add the egg and vanilla.

Take approximately half the refrigerated cookie dough and, with floured fingers, press into the prepared pan. Using an offset spatula, spread the dulce de leche over the bottom layer. Pour over the cream cheese mixture. Crumble the remaining cookie dough over the cream cheese.

Bake 35 to 40 minutes or until golden brown. As with many cheesecake recipes, you may see a bit of “wiggle” in the centre of the pan; not to worry, it will set up as it sits. Cool 1 hour. Refrigerate at least 4 hours, preferably overnight. Cut into squares or bars, as desired.

Makes 1 9-inch pan. Approximately 24-36 bars, depending on size. These bars should be stored in refrigerator and can be frozen.

Notes:
• For the cookie crust, I like to use a large flake sea or kosher salt for a salty-sweet combination.
• You can use whatever combination of morsels, nuts and candy you like for the cookie crust; aim for about 2 cups in total.
• If you prefer pockets of caramel, swirl the dulce de leche with the cream cheese filling, rather than layering it.
• The dulce de leche can be substituted with a chocolate ganache or thick chocolate fudge sauce as well.

In keeping with the season

How can I find words to greater compel you to help a cause that is so very compelling all on its own? Today marks the start of Menu for Hope III the annual fundraising campaign created by Pim of the ever-tempting Chez Pim. This year's event is in support of the UN's World Food Programme; a fitting cause for this time when we gather to celebrate and share our own good fortune.

In the next few days I will be enthusiastically suggesting support of this worthy endeavor; however some business on my end precludes me doing so just yet. So I'll start you all off easy with the full list of instructions:

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

2. Each US$10 donation will give you one raffle ticket toward a prize of your choice. Please specify which prize or prizes you'd like by entering the prize code in the 'Personal Message' section in the donation form when confirming your contribution. E.G: A US$50 donation may be two tickets for UW99 and three tickets for CA02.*

3. Some companies will match personal charitable donations made by staff. If your company has such a program, please remember to mark the appropriate box and fill in the information so we could claim the corporate match.

4. Please also check the box to allow us to see your email address. We need this so we can contact you in case you win a prize. If you do not do this, we will be unable to contact you. Please be assured that we will not share your email address with anyone.

5. Raffle results will be announced on 15 January on Chez Pim. Draws will be conducted electronically, thanks to Derrick at Obsession with Food for creating the computer application used to magically select names.

* 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 fabulous prize (hint: code CA02) prize, but more on that later. To whet your appetites so to speak, here are the roundup lists of all the prizes available:

• The main Menu for Hope III campaign page on Chez Pim to browse the global prize list
• The Canadian Menu for Hope III page on Cardamom Addict

Buy now, buy later, buy often. Your support can make all the difference in someone's world.