The terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day ... that turned into a week

Title with thanks to Judith Viorst.

Monday started out with me slipping in a mud puddle. Tuesday introduced impossible deadlines to be met – and was a day that did not seem to have enough hours in it. Wednesday, well, I forget Wednesday, I’m sure it happened but I have no recollection of it. I think it was so traumatic that I blocked it from my memory.Thursday brought misunderstandings of seemingly endless proportions. And now it is Friday, and it’s raining outside.

As you may guess, I’m in a bit of a mood.

It is times like these, when I am feeling overwhelmed, that I transform from a usually capable person into a somewhat dramatic, hopeless mess. And it is times like these that the smallest of favours are the grandest of gifts.

These adorable little tomatoes for example, a co-worker brought them to me from her garden – she is a kind and thoughtful lady who never thinks twice when given the opportunity to do something for another. Perfectly ripened, almost candy-like in their sweetness and utterly photogenic, I have had the pleasure of enjoying three miniature little harvests of tomatoes, my morning brightened by a little bag of these babies waiting on my desk in the morning.

Or this lovely green dish, a gift from my dear S in apology for setting fire to one of my roasting dishes (long story involving preheating the oven without remembering that he’d hidden dirty dishes in there earlier). Smooth and sleek with its feminine fluted edge, I love the weight and feel of the ceramic — and the colour is so utterly of him (as you may have noticed, I have a fondness for white serving ware).

So things may not be as dire as they seem. Last night, I surveyed the kitchen and came across some gorgeously crusty Calabrese bread, some herbs and my darling tomatoes. Remembering a recent sunny afternoon at the Taste of the Danforth food festival in Toronto, with the company of great friends and laughter all around, I was inspired to recreate the fabulously fresh bruschetta we’d had at Il Fornello.

The first bite of crusty bread, tangy soft cheese and luscious tomatoes, and I’d banished the gloom. Such a simple pleasure, coupled with a quiet evening, had a wonderfully restorative effect. I slept soundly, and woke this morning with a renewed sense of enthusiasm to face the work ahead.

That’s when I noticed the rain clouds.

Bruschetta with tomato salad and chèvre
Bruschetta, from the Italian bruscare (to roast over coals) technically refers only to the grilled bread. My apologies that I have not included amounts here, instead just the ingredients. But truly, when in a mood like the one I’ve been in, the last thing one wants is to stress over measuring spoons. Use the proportions that best suit your palate. This is supposed to be a dish that exemplifies the “path of least resistance” – the quickest way to pleasure with minimal effort.

Ingredients

Tomatoes, grape or cherry halved, or your favourite large variety cut into manageable bites
Red onion, finely minced
Garlic, finely minced or microplaned (optional)
Basil, in fine strips (chiffonade)
Parsley, finely minced
Salt and pepper
Red wine vinegar (optional)
Olive oil
Slices of Calabrese bread, or any other crusty bread you like
Garlic (left whole)
Chèvre

Preheat broiler.

Combine tomatoes, onion, garlic and herbs in a bowl. Season to taste with salt and pepper and a scant splash of red wine vinegar. Pour over a good-quality olive oil, mixing gently to combine. Allow to sit at room temperature while you prepare the bruschetta.

Under a hot broiler, toast bread on one side until golden brown. Turn and toast the second side until just starting to turn colour. Remove from oven and, working quickly, rub the cut side of the whole garlic clove all over the lightly toasted side. Top with crumbled chèvre, and return to the broiler until the cheese is starting to melt.

Serve topped with tomato salad and a final drizzle of olive oil.

Notes:
• This recipe can be done on a barbeque, grilling the bread first over medium high heat. To melt the cheese, turn the grill down to medium heat and close the lid, checking after 2-3 minutes.

Reviewing The Best

As promised, this is my first installment in my spotlight on five books from my recipe collection. I'll devote three entries to each book.

I came across the television show The Best when flicking by a BBC Canada preview one long weekend. Starring Ben O’Donoghue, Paul Merrett and Silvana Franco, the premise of the show was simple – two separate theme ingredients/meals would be set up as a challenge for each episode. The three would then prepare and present their interpretation to a cloistered group of judges. Some examples were; the best sweet summer tart, the best lamb lunch, and the best simple sandwich.

Though this may sound rather like an episode of Iron Chef – The Best could not be further from the Kitchen Stadium of Chairman Kaga. The hosts, two classically trained chefs (O’Donoghue and Merrett) and one experienced cook and food stylist (Franco), worked together with an easy competitive camaraderie. Each took on the duties of sous chef for the others, and there was frequent tasting and joking along the way.

It was the charm of the series that made me seek out the cookbook by the same name – which has fast become one of my favourite books for inspiration. The three authors, with their diverse backgrounds and influences, support and encourage my somewhat schizophrenic interests in cooking.

Merrett’s Perfect Cheese Soufflé and sublime Watercress and Mushroom Soup appeal to the part of me that likes a bit of fuss over a meal. His recipes can be a bit labour (and time) intensive, but the results are nothing short of show stopping.

O’Donoghue, proud of his Australian roots and classically trained, tempts me with fresh ingredients presented in laid-back style. His Summer Berry Compote and Braised Tuna Salad epitomize his philosophy on food – elegant yet gutsily straightforward, uncompromising in its quality.

Franco is a woman after my own heart. An accomplished food writer and stylist who has worked with the likes of Ainsley Hariott, she has not let acclaim change her views on food. Simplicity itself, relying on cupboard staples and no-nonsense preparations, dishes like her Chinese Style Barbecue Pork and Goat’s Cheese and Cranberry Toast offer immediate satisfaction.

The first recipe I’ve chosen to highlight is Ben’s Tomato and Herb Spaghetti from “The Best Quick Pasta Supper” episode. I love the combination of the velvety robust sauce against the herbaceous crunch of the pan gritata (toasted breadcrumbs) – all slurped up with perfectly cooked spaghetti. In the midst of summer I will admit that I sometimes substitute the canned tomatoes with peeled fresh ones, whenever I find myself in possession of some just about to pass their prime.

Ben’s Tomato and Herb Spaghetti
The Best by Paul Merrett, Silvana Franco and Ben O'Donoghue.

For the pan gritata:
4 tablespoons roughly chopped thyme leaves
4 tablespoons roughly chopped parsley
2 tablespoons roughly chopped majoram
1 small dried-out or day-old chibatta, made into rough crumbs
8 tablespoons sunflower (or other neutral) oil

For the tomato sauce:
1 garlic clove, crushed
3 tablespoons olive oil
800 g jar of San Marzzano plum tomatoes, or 2 x 400 g cans of plum tomatoes in their own juice, drained
1-2 bird’s eye chilies
500 g (1 lb 2 oz) pack best-quality durum wheat dried spaghetti
1 garlic clove, chopped
Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

To make the pan gritata, first process the herbs in a food processor. Empty into a bowl, add the ciabatta crumbs and blend together using your hands.

Heat the sunflower oil in a frying pan and shallow-fry the herbs and breadcrumb mixture for 3-4 minutes, until crunchy. Drain on kitchen paper.

Make the tomato sauce by gently frying the garlic in 2 tablespoons of the olive oil for 30 seconds, until sticky. Add the tomatoes and chilies and cook for 30 minutes over a very low heat until broken down and the tartness has gone from the tomatoes.

Meanwhile, cook the pasta until al dente (according to the packet instructions) and drain. In a large frying pan, heat the remaining olive oil and add the chopped garlic. Toss through the cooked spaghetti. Then serve the spaghetti in a bowl with the tomato sauce surrounding it and season with salt and freshly ground pepper to taste. Sprinkle the pan gritata all over and serve.

Serves 4.

Notes
• In the case of the dish in the photograph, I happened to have fresh, finely crushed breadcrumbs around from another recipe. I opted to use them instead of the ciabatta, and tossed some through with the cooked pasta. For your first time making the recipe, I recommend using the ciabatta as instructed – the coarser texture adds another dimension to the dish.
• I choose to season the sauce with salt and pepper while it is cooking, rather than at the end.
• When I use fresh tomatoes, I reduce the cooking time for the sauce to about 15 minutes, as I like to preserve a bit of the freshness of the tomatoes.
• Although not mentioned in the recipe, I find that a bit of freshly grated Parmesan never hurt anyone.

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!