Salt of the earth – Sea asparagus

I have an unapologetic love of salt. I smother my eggs in it, I add it to McDonald’s already salty fries… can’t get enough. Luckily I have low blood pressure, so when my husband is after me saying, “that can’t be healthy,” I tell him I’d basically pass out if I didn’t keep my salt levels high. Whenever we’re near a blood pressure monitor he’s convinced he’s going to be proven right with a skyrocketing result, but I always come in on the barely-functioning scale. Yay me.

Anyway, the point is that I love finding new sources of salty goodness. I’ve tried and liked different seaweeds before, but I can’t eat too much of them because I find them fishy. Enter the “sea asparagus”

IMG_3837Apparently these little fresh juicy morsels of salty goodness are harvested when the tide goes out. The sign on them said they were from Israel, but they’re also regularly available in BC. Oddly, they have a floral scent, but they taste kind of like the fresh version of a caper.

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And they’re healthy too! They’re packed with B vitamins, especially B2 which is great for energy, and they also have vitamin A and folic acid. They’re good for the liver, skin, and stomach. They also have “TMG” (note: not TMZ – Lyndsay Lohan doesn’t need to avoid them) which fights stroke and liver disease. So if you drink a lot of wine with them, your liver comes out even in the end (okay, I made this up, but it’s possible??). They’re also called “sea beans,” salicornia, glasswort, pickleweed, or marsh samphire.

Because they were caperish, I decided to serve em up raw with a smoked salmon pasta (you can also steam them, but since I liked them raw I don’t know what this would do to the taste). I cheated and bought prepared alfredo sauce, but you could always find a recipe and make that yourself if you’re a purist. Here’s what I did – quick, easy, and tasty.

Smoked salmon sea bean alfredo (serves 4)

  • 250mL prepared (or scratch) alfredo sauce
  • 1 package smoked salmon
  • 1 good handful sea asparagus
  • Dried pasta shells

Directions: Boil water for pasta, and cook according to package directions. Heat alfredo sauce. Chop smoked salmon and sea asparagus. Drain pasta and add sauce and sea goodies.

Results

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This pic was taken before I fully chopped and incorporated everything, but you get the idea. Delicious! This pasta was a hit with everyone who gobbled it up. If you should happen to come across sea beans, don’t be shy to nab them. It’s always nice to find something that’s healthy and tasty. Rating: 4 Yums

Note: This is not the Canadian post where I’ll be preparing the delicacy I hinted about last time, but that is coming right up. Next hint: think igloos…

Weird ice cream is still good ice cream

This will be a very quick post, because I didn’t actually cook anything this time. Easy peasy!

There’s a little “express,” grocery store at the end of our street, and it always shocks me that they’re able to stock such a great number of diverse food items within such a small amount of space. When I saw this ice cream, I had to pick it up, partly because it aroused my curiosity, but also to support the express store’s willingness to take a risk on a product. I’m guessing they don’t sell a lot of this in my neighbourhood, but they still had a shocking number of these containers available for sale.

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Living in diverse Toronto as we do, it no longer shocks me to see green tea ice cream, or black bean ice cream, because I’ve tasted both at sushi restaurants for years. But black sesame? I couldn’t even imagine the flavour.

Another thing that excited me about this purchase was that I’m always looking for something my kids might try. People often ask, “Are your kids daring eaters too?” The answer to that question is a very firm, “Nuh-uh,” but I thought they might be willing to make an exception for something boasting the title, “ice cream.” And I was right. Happy Mother’s Day to me. There’s nothing moms enjoy more than being right when it comes to their kids. Right?

IMG_3206My daughter couldn’t even hold back long enough to get a bowl or take her scooter helmet off.

This ice cream was muddy good.

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He’s mad because she won’t let him hold the container. Oh, the joy in being a little brother.

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Success with the muddy black sesame ice cream! Rating: 4 Yums. It’s hard to describe the flavour. Think rich ice cream. Now add sweet sesame, with a toasted aftertaste. I should have gotten more creative with this dangerous food and made a dessert that incorporated a few things, restaurant-style, but I thought it might be fun to throw that out there as a question. What would go well with sesame ice cream if you were trying to be fancy? I’m thinking dense warm molasses cake with seaweed in it. Who has other ideas?

Just ducky

The egg award has been my conversation lull solution lately. You know when you’re standing there with someone and there’s that awkward pause, like, “hm, I’ve already asked her about vacations and kids and work…” I’ve been helping people out by saying, “So I’m entering an egg contest.” I’ve told my friend Jackie about it so many times that when she accompanied me to the farmer’s market in our neighborhood (Mondays – we’re very lucky) to look for the eggs it was almost like I had selected her to be my second ovum in command, and she didn’t take her responsibility lightly. She later helped with sauce suggestions.

The rules of the contest are that the eggs need to be organic, and that there should be a photo of someone/thing related to where the eggs came from, so here’s mine:

Farmer Laslo

Let’s call the free range egg farmer from Innisfil, Ontario, Canada “Laslo,” because he looks like a Laslo and he wasn’t very forthcoming with information. I did manage to learn that he has 100 quail and 20 ducks, but when I asked whether the duck the eggs came from had a name and he just said, “no,” in a very bored way, so I gave up when it came time to ask for his own name. Oh, Laslo.

I was happy to get duck eggs, though, because they’re unique here, which suits the dangerous theme of my blog well while also satisfying the requirements of the contest.

And you should know that these eggs have been on a bit of a journey to get here. I know I could potentially lose some freshness points because they went through slight cooler-coddled travel time, but I feel that the life experience they got added to the wisdom and maturity of this entry, so I feel proud to divulge their history. Like me, they have acquired a few battle scars that have only made them stronger – mine come mostly in the form of wrinkles, theirs…

Easter egg

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We went up north for a few days with families and kids, I brought my duck eggs thinking my friend Hong and I would find leisure time to dream up and photograph a recipe, but instead the leisure time was eaten up by kids colouring eggs, and my extra big white ones were too good to resist (didn’t help that I had bought brown ones for my egg dying activity, which, FYI, don’t take colour nearly as well as white. Who knew?). So I wouldn’t let them boil my duckies, but I reluctantly let them dye them, making every three and five year old swear on their mother’s eyes that they’d be gentle. And I cooler-coddled them home again. The trip wasn’t a total loss, though – Hong gave me the idea to bake them in a bread basket.

And so we finally come to the product of all this egg fretting (frittata-ing? Not this time). I now reveal to the world, the perfect post-mortem-Easter-egg recipe and pending winner of the great global egg award…

Duck egg baskets with prosciutto and lemon basil cream sauce

(makes 6)

Egg baskets:

  • 6 fresh, organic free range duck eggs
  • 6 healthy-sized pieces of grainy bread
  • 6 slices of prosciutto
  • 3Tbsp butter, with extra for pan
  • Green onions, chopped, for topping

Preheat oven to 375. Generously butter 6 spaces in a muffin pan (mine stuck slightly, so do this well). Use a wide mouth glass to make 12 circles from bread. Butter the circles, and overlap two into each muffin space to cover. This can be slightly messy – it will look better later.

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Add a slice of prosciutto

Prosciutto in muffin tin

Add egg

Raw egg over prosciutto

Bake at 375 for 20-25 minutes. Yolk should still jiggle when cooked. Carefully pry from muffin pan with knife. If a bit of the toast crumbles off, no biggie. Still looks delicious.

Egg in basket with prosciutto

Now. If you’re tired and don’t want to continue, good for you, this is a tasty, impressive breakfast on its own. You may also wish to top with hollondaise for a “benny-style” treat, or to substitute dill in my sauce recipe below for another traditional option that goes well with lemon and eggs. Since I am entering a contest however, I went with a more unconventional sauce…

Lemon basil cream sauce (based on recipe here):

  • 1Tbsp butter
  • 1 garlic clove, crushed and minced
  • 1/2C organic cream (I used 18%)
  • 1/2C organic chicken stock
  • Juice of 1/2 lemon
  • 1Tbsp cornstarch
  • Pepper
  • Small handful basil

Melt butter in small heavy saucepan. Cook garlic, 1 minute. Add cream and chicken stock and boil over low heat until reduced by about half. Mix cornstarch with lemon juice in small bowl and add to saucepan. Stir, continue to boil until sauce thickens, and add pepper. Add basil before serving. Pour over each egg basket on serving plates and voila!

Final egger

Wish me luck, and thanks @justlovefood for encouraging me to enter this great contest!

Toothless Sunshine loves dragon fruit

Our house is all about dragons right now.

The dragon connection started in an odd way. My jeans fell apart, because I’m cheap, and I don’t enjoy buying expensive jeans, but I enjoy wearing them (see frugal article here). So while my jeans had become unwearable due to air conditioning in the nether regions, I wasn’t able to let them go. So I made a pocket purse for my daughter.

In the name of fairness, I offered my son a homemade gift of his choice. His confident request – “A dragon.” I did myself some googling, and found this pattern for a dragon. I was disappointed that the creators of the pattern hadn’t managed to find the perfect dragon fabric that I did – green velour with green sequins – so I smugly walked away from Fabricland and made the very first object of my son’s affection, Toothless Sunshine.

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Let me just take a time out to say that I’m a giant feminist, and that I proudly own my love for cooking, sewing, and parenting as a personal choice afforded to a liberated woman. Let’s move on.

Toothless Sunshine

Anyway, as we were in the spirit of dragons, I picked up this fruit

Dragon fruit

at our beloved No Frills grocery store and told my son it was a dragon fruit (pitaya). He begged to try it.

Sliced dragon fruitI searched for dragon fruit recipes in an attempt to make something interesting, but didn’t find much beyond sexy fruit plates. I was glad I hadn’t chosen those, because it turns out dragon fruit is quite bland. It looks very cool – fuschia with seedy pulp – but it’s less sweet and tart than a kiwi, which it’s often compared to due to its consistency, even though the dragon fruit is actually the fruit of a cactus.

I finally found a recipe for dragon fruit salsa over scallops, which I won’t even credit because their creation had so few ingredients it was basically dragon fruit and lemon juice (and we’ve already established that dragon fruit has a super boring flavour). I used their scallop/salsa idea, though, and created this:

Seared Scallops and Dragon Fruit Salsa (serves 2)

  • 6 large scallops
  • A few Tbsp olive oil
  • 1 ripe dragon fruit (gives slightly to touch, like a ripe mango or avocado), diced
  • 1 small handful of fresh cilantro, chopped
  • 2 green onions, chopped
  • 1 small handful dried cranberries
  • Juice of 1 lime
  • One chopped chili if desired

Directions: Heat oil over med high heat, approx. 2 mins. Add scallops and sprinkle with salt and pepper.

ScallopsCook 2-3mins per side, until white and firm on the exterior (scored and slightly darkened if barbequing, but it’s winter and I was cold, so I chose the pan). Meanwhile, combine salsa ingredients. Serve scallops topped with salsa.

Scallops and dragon fruit salsa

Results: Nice! My husband said, “Let’s keep this in mind for when we’re entertaining.” (Or something like that, I wasn’t totally listening). I included the dried cranberries to add a touch of sweetness where the dragon fruit was lacking, and the onions and cilantro answered that salsa freshness expectation. The dragon fruit made the whole thing pretty, and added a cool, crisp texture. Exotic, fresh, and tasty. Rating: 3 Yums

Toothless Sunshine will serve this recipe to his fire breathing friends for sure.

Wine Pairing: Winealign.com suggests that scallops pair well with pinot gris, so I’ll suggest Bestheim Réserve Pinot Gris 2011, Alsace, selling for $15.95 in Ontario.

Pinot Gris

Haggis soup that would make Robbie Burns proud

There’s a weird identity-thing about being Canadian. When I was a kid, the other kids would ask, “So what are you?” I hated the question, because all I knew of culture at the time was Canada. All my relatives were here, and I had never met anyone in my family who was born anywhere else – a few great-grandparents were the most recent immigrants I was aware of.  “Mostly English,” I’d say, which was the most boring answer, as far as I was concerned, because it was always far more interesting to be associated with a country that was more different from where my family now lived.  But I felt like it was most accurate because it was where my last name came from.  Sometimes the question annoyed me so much I would say, “Just Canadian, okay?”

As I got older and studied some personal genealogy, I learned about other cultural connections my genes had that were just as accurate, and so I was able to be a nationality shape-shifter.  If it was St. Patrick’s Day, I was Irish.  When I visited my husband’s family outside Belfast, I was Northern Irish too – different great-great-grandparents actually came from both places.  For the Queen’s jubilee, I was English.  And today, for Robbie Burns Day, I’m Scottish.

My mother’s father’s parents were born in Scotland, in Turriff and Elgin.  Apparently a rich Scottish guy in Hamilton Ontario Canada asked for “a good wee lassie,” to be sent over to work in his home as a nanny, and after she got here she met my great-grandfather and the Canadian arm of the family began. But back to the Canadian identity thing – I was very close to my grandfather, Gord McDonald, but still never felt like a Scottish lassie myself.  The shape-shifting thing seemed too convenient, and when you have never set foot in the other country and have no contacts, and your roots are dispersed across many cultures, how can you honour ties there?

Through food, that’s how.

I met a cook from Scotland on Twitter, @Justlovefood, ages ago and asked, “Do you actually cook haggis?” I was excited to consider a “dangerous food,” that actually had a personal connection.  We traded messages, they blogged a recipe, I tried to get my hands on some haggis, and was told I’d have to wait until Burns Day.  I waited patiently.  But the friendship and process already started making me feel closer to my grandfather and his family.  @Justlovefood sent a drawing of a haggis,

Haggisand it was my grandfather’s sense of humour shining through.

I finally got my hands on the haggis yesterday, and went on a scavenger hunt to find the other ingredients, visiting grocery stores from around the globe.  The Asian grocery store, T&T was the best choice for duck eggs, but only had quail, so I nabbed those.  The British store couldn’t import marmite because it has a meat or fish ingredient our government doesn’t like, so I had to get vegemite instead.

VegemiteFinally, I proudly sliced my haggis in half

Haggisand broke it up into the pot, trying to tell myself that if my ancestors ate lungs and heart I could too.  I added all other soup ingredients, and wondered how a recipe that went against my core cooking belief – that if you blend tasty ingredients together, you’ll get a tasty result – could ever work.  Lamb innards.  Single malt whiskey.  Vegemite.  Even mustard.  Normally, I wasn’t a fan of any of it.

WhiskeyBut I was proved wrong.  This was the best soup I’d ever had! It was rich with a delicious texture, almost like gravy soup, but with a nippy bite of spice, even though I had only added pepper (the Healthy Butcher’s high quality of haggis probably deserves a lot of the kudos!). I portioned out some of the result for a few friends who wanted to try it but made sure to keep the biggest share for myself.

Haggis soup

I ate haggis in preparation for Burns Day and allowed myself to feel Scottish.  I couldn’t have conversations with ancestors, or visit their hometowns (yet), but I could eat what they’d eaten, and read a poem they might have known.  Take a second to think about where your family is living now, and then imagine in future that an arm of it emigrates, and that one of your recipes or foods might be the only tie to culture they have left.  Cool eh? Cook carefully.

Here is a reprint of the haggis description and recipe from @Justlovefood, and a link to their blog.  Hope you give it a try, even if you don’t have a Scottish lassie in your family tree.  I’ve also included Robbie Burns’s poem, “Address to a Haggis.”

Haggis&Potato&Marmite Soup with Watercress and Poached Duck egg

haggis (HAG-ihs) – Haggis is a Scottish dish made from sheep’s offal (windpipe, lungs, heart and liver) of the sheep, which is first boiled and then minced. It is then mixed with beef suet and lightly toasted oatmeal. This mixture is placed inside the sheep’s stomach, which is sewn closed. The resulting haggis is traditionally cooked by further boiling (for up to three hours).

This is the most traditional of all Scottish dishes, eaten on Burns Night (25th January; the birthday of Scotland’s national poet, Robert Burns, 1759-1796) and at Hogmanay (New Year’s Eve). Haggis is traditionally served as “haggis, neeps and tatties”. The neeps are mashed turnip or swede, with a little milk and allspice added, whereas the tatties are creamed potatoes flavored with a little nutmeg. To add that authentic touch, consume your haggis, neeps and tatties with a dram of good whisky.

History: There are no actual records, as far as we are aware, of the origins of haggis, as we know it today. The first known English cookbook is The Form of Cury (cookery), written in 1390 by one of the cooks to King Richard II. It contains a recipe for a dish called Afronchemoyle, which is in effect a haggis. The haggis became well established in the Scottish culinary scene, not as a star dish but as an everyday staple. Like a lot of other foods, haggis probably came about because the raw material was available and it had to be made into a more acceptable form.

Author Clarissa Dickson Wright in her book The Haggis – A Little History makes a case for haggis originally being from Sweden. Scandinavians from Sweden eat haggis with great relish and invariably remark on its resemblance to a dish in their local cuisine. Relations between Scotland and the Nordic world go back to the 9th century. Norsemen, raiders at first, very soon became settlers and farmers. It was late in the 15th century before Orkney and Shetland finally ceased to be dependencies of the Danish crown. The impact of the Norse was far greater than that of the French; they are part of Scotland’s historic fabric. The root of the word haggis is not from Latin languages, and its origin appears to be Scandinavian. There is no doubt that the word haggis is related to such words as the Swedish hagga, meaning to hew or chop; and the Icelandic hoggva, with the same meaning.

Reference found in :

http://whatscookingamerica.net/Glossary/H.htm

We made this soup in the kitchen when we sold all of the soup of the day and had to come up with a quick and different one using what was available in the Pantry

Haggis&Potato&Marmite Soup with Watercress and a Poached Duck egg on top

Ingredients

  • Haggis,around 500 grams
  • Potato,peeled and cut into squares,about 5 medium size
  • Shallots,5 chopped finely
  • Spring onions ,5 will do chopped coarsely
  • 1 teaspoon of Marmite
  • 1 teaspoon of English Mustard
  • 1 nip-25 ml- of Single Malt Whisky,we used Macallan 12 year old, you could also use cognac.
  • 1 Liter of good Beef Stock,could be Veggie or chicken
  • Freshly ground White Pepper
  • 3 Cloves of Smoked garlic
  • Sea Salt Flakes,like Maldon or Scottish Seasalt ( Hebridean sea salt)
  • Bunch of Fresh watercress, for soup and then garnish
  • Duck Egg,poached
  • Unsalted Butter

Instructions;

In a pot  at medium heat, saute the shallots,spring onions,garlic until semi soft, then add the potato cubes,stir, Season with Salt and Pepper, keep cooking until shallots become soft.

Put Heat to high, add the Whisky, stir.

Reduce heat to medium again.

Add the Haggis,cook until soft and blended with all the  rest of ingredients, add the stock, stir.

Add teaspoon of Marmite, teaspoon of English Mustard and stir, bring to the boil and then simmer until potatos are soft.

Add The Watercress, stir.

Blend with a Hand held blender, taste, adjust seasoning, keep warm.

For serving, use deep bowls, garnish with a Duck poached egg on top and some nice Watercress little bunch, serve hot with nice Artisan Bread and butter.

Sprinkle some Sea salt flakes & pepper on top of the Poached egg.

Copyright@Justlovefood Leith  August 2012

Chef Claudia Escobar Lindenbaum

Address To A Haggis

Fair fa’ your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o’ the puddin-race!
Aboon them a’ ye tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye wordy of a grace
As lang’s my arm.

The groaning trencher there ye fill,
Your hurdies like a distant hill,
Your pin wad help to mend a mill
In time o’ need,
While thro’ your pores the dews distil
Like amber bead.

His knife see rustic Labour dight,
An’ cut ye up wi’ ready slight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright
Like onie ditch;
And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm-reekin, rich!

Then, horn for horn, they strech an’ strive:
Deil tak the hindmost! on they drive,
Till a’ their weel-swall’d kytes belyve,
Are bent like drums;
Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive,
‘Bethankit!’ hums.

Is there that owre his French ragout
Or olio that wad staw a sow,
Or fricassee wad mak her spew
Wi’ perfect sconner,
Looks down wi’ sneering, scornfu’ view
On sic a dinner?

Poor devil! see him owre his trash,
As feckless as a wither’d rash,
His spindle shank, a guid whip-lash,
His nieve a nit;
Thro’ bluidy flood or field to dash,
O how unfit!

But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,
The trembling earth resounds his tread.
Clap in his walie nieve a blade,
He’ll make it whissle;
An’ legs, an’ arms, an’ heads will sned,
Like taps o’ thrissle.

Ye Pow’rs wha mak mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill o ‘fare,
Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware
That jaups in luggies;
But, if ye wish her gratefu’ prayer,
Gie her a Haggis!

Pretty Pakoras

I feel slightly embarrassed by the “new” ingredient I’ve chosen to showcase with this post.  I always experiment with foods I’ve never prepared here, hoping that others will read about my concoctions and also become more experimental (or will at the very least laugh at my adventures).  But last night I cooked with something new to me, but that might make the rest of the world turn away accusing me of being a lame loser of a chef.  I used gram flour, which is made from chickpeas.  I know what you’re thinking – before you know it I’ll be introducing you a new ingredient some people call “wheat.”

I had been sifting through recipes online to find an appetizer to bring to a Christmas party at my friend Jackie’s.  At first I told her I would bring a veggie tray because she had been describing what last minute tedious tasks she still had to accomplish, and picking up veggies was one of them.  But when she said, “Sure you can bring veg, but you’re capable of so much more,” I knew I had to live up to my culinary potential of weirdness.  I have a reputation of oddity to live up to, after all.

The Shining 031So I was swiping my way through my iPhone drooling at food porn when I happened upon a potato latke topped with crème fraiche and caviar.  Bingo.  Except that despite being plugged into the rare food community I had no idea where to find crème fraiche in my neighborhood, and I thought that a latke might be kind of bland.  So I switched it to a spicy pakora with sour cream, and bang – cool creation.

Funny how I wasn’t even going to write about this appetizer because I thought it was too boring, even though it includes both gram flour and caviar, neither of which I had ever used.  I think camel meatballs and fish heads have made my standards of weirdness kind of high lately.

But back to the flour, which is also called garbanzo flour or besan.  It’s high in carbohydrates, but also in protein, which is a bonus.  It’s also gluten free.  As I mentioned, most cultures other than mine eat it – it’s a staple in India, Pakistan and Bangladesh, but it’s also eaten in France, Spain, and Italy.  I was shocked to have bought 3 cups worth and paid about $1. Loving it.

I also hadn’t considered the caviar very interesting, because everyone has heard of caviar.  Especially after the movie Big.

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But how much did I really know about the types of caviar?  Nothing, truth be told.  And I’m not so sure I would care about the difference in taste or price, since I even enjoy those crackly roe they put on top of sushi at the mall.  I picked up this “caviar,”

IMG_2717from our local fishmonger for the bargain price of $10.  And then I read this article about real caviar, now from farmed sturgeon rather than wild, ranging (in the article) between $75 and $275 for 30g.  The wild stuff is rare because it was overfarmed and so is heavily regulated.  It goes for $750.  Mine came from smoked herring and mullet in Spain and I’m totally good with that.

Looked like the guests were good with that too, because the appys didn’t last long!  They were a pakora-rific pleasure.  Here’s the recipe – the straightforward pakora directions stolen from here:

Pakora with caviar (makes about 20 small pakoras)

  • 2C Besan (chickpea flour, gram flour)
  • 1Tbsp crushed red pepper
  • 3/4tsp salt
  • 1/2tsp baking powder
  • 2 small red chiles, chopped (or other hot peppers.  This amount gave low-medium heat)
  • 1/2C cilantro leaves, chopped (plus more for garnishing)
  • 1 onion, sliced thinly into half-moons
  • 1C luke warm water
  • 1/2C sour cream
  • 30g container of caviar (only about three-quarters will be used)
  • Oil for frying (canola or other light-tasting oil)

Directions:  Fill skillet half-way with oil.  Heat to 360-375 degrees (med-high heat for about 6 minutes, will sizzle when dough is dropped in).  In a large bowl, mix together the flour, chili flakes, salt, baking powder, chili pepper, cilantro and sliced onion.  Slowly add in the water, mixing well.  The batter should be thick but still mobile (would drip from a spoon) with air bubbles throughout.  When oil has heated, carefully drop tablespoons of batter into the hot oil.  Allow them to brown, flipping once (about one minute per side).  Drain on a cooling rack or paper towels.  Repeat with remainder of batter.

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Top each with sour cream, a few cilantro sprigs, and a dollop of caviar.  This can be done after pakoras have cooled.  Enjoy!

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Results:  Delicious, with a tidy, pretty presentation.  Four yums for this one.  I’ll make them again!

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Wine Pairing:  Sparkling wine.  A budget knock-off caviar deserves a budget knock-off Champagne!  Winealign.com says the Kiwi Walk Sparkling Sauvignon Blanc from New Zealand is a good one priced at $17.95 in Ontario.

Kiwi_Walk_Spakling_Sauvignon_Blanc_web

Persimmon, Pom and Prosciutto

This is going to be a very short blog entry for two reasons:

  1.  I just downloaded Gimp photo editing software and spent an hour trying to get some glare off of a pomegranate seed.  I feel strangely fulfilled, yet very tired
  2. Tomorrow is the US election, and I don’t want to be that idiot in your Twitter feed where everything is all deep and meaningful about the future of the World as we know it, and I tweet something that says, “Hey, check out persimmon and prosciutto!”  So my deadline for this post is about ten minutes from now.

Here is a persimmon:

There are two kinds, the Jiro and Hachiya.  Both should be ripe before eating, but the latter should be almost mushy.  Mine was the former.

Our wino friends were having us over for a steak dinner where they were sharing their considerable wine collection the other night.  Bryan (their home chef) called me and said, “You bringing wine here is like bringing sand to a beach, so just bring some cool appetizers and we’re good.”  I had some guilt about this, so had to make sure I brought something especially creative.  These are good problems to have.

One of my favourite appetizers involves fig, arugula, mascarpone cheese, and prosciutto.  Truth be told, it doesn’t involve those things, it actually is those things.  So I thought of that and made this:

Persimmon Prosciutto Bites (Appys for 12)

  • 1 persimmon, hull sliced off, remainder sliced into mini fry-sized slices
  • Soft light cream cheese
  • Greens (whatever is on hand – I’d suggest arugula if avail, but I used spinach)
  • Pomegranate – 3 seeds per app
  • Prosciutto, cut into long strips

Directions:  Slice persimmon.  Slather each “fry” with creamed cheese, topping with pom seeds.

Wrap in large green leaf, then prosciutto.

Results:  Tasty, but kind of tame.  Persimmon is very nice, almost similar to a firm mango.  This appetizer would work well with any sweet, distinctive flavoured fruit as the centrepiece (fig, mango, peach…).  Don’t use too many pomegranate seeds – they contribute a nice juicy pop, but too many pithy seeds can be annoying.  Rating:  1 Yum

Seriously though, thanks to Gimp and my new white plate from the dollar store, I don’t think the people who ate the appy would recognize it based on my hot picture.

Wine Pairing:  A friend at the party, Sandy, who has a highly respectable palate (dead on in blind tastings and likes the finer things in life but not in a snobby way) looked at me meaningfully to give me his opinion, saying only, “It pairs perfectly with this wine.”  Unfortunately for you this stellar wine is no longer available, but you can probably substitute a nice buttery Chardonnay of your choice.  This one was so good that I had to wonder if it had gone bad because it was unlike most other wines I’ve ever tasted.  Find a highly rated Chardonnay substitute at www.winealign.com, which is Bryan’s website.

Wee Kiwis

Little is cute.  This isn’t news.  The smaller they are, the more we like them.  It all started with Arnold.  Next it was Webster.  Mr. Papadopoulos…  Recently, TLC started “Little people, big world.”  Now it’s Honey Boo Boo…  And yes, I added that last one to help with search engine hits.  But Webster could out-traffic Honey Boo Boo, right?

Anyway.  Maybe TLC should do a show about mini kiwis, because they’re pretty cute too.

Grape kiwis are exactly like the big ones as far as I can tell, except that they’re hairless and small — the Chihuahuas of the fruit world. They’re also called “hardy kiwis,” because they survive for a while in cold temperatures, although they don’t last long once they’ve been picked, so if you find some they should be treasured.

Grape Kiwis and Grapes

It’s always challenging to prepare a strange fruit in something other than a fruit salad or a smoothie, but I don’t like going for the obvious, so this time I went to my trusty epicurious app and pretended the grape kiwis were grapes.  Here’s the coolest recipe I came up with based on that search, cooked with my modifications below:

Chicken Curry Salad with Grapes (and now grape kiwis) – serves 4 appetizer portions

  • 2tsp curry powder, Madras-style preferred
  • 1/4C light mayo
  • 1/4C plain low fat Greek yogurt
  • 1tsp minced peeled fresh ginger
  • 1/2tsp grated orange peel
  • 2C cooked chicken, diced (I used leftovers which was awesome)
  • 1/2C grape kiwis, halved (use all red grapes if you’re not lucky enough to find grape kiwis)
  • 1/2C red grapes, halved
  • 2 green onions, thinly sliced
  • 1 handful walnuts, chopped
  • 4 large curly lettuce leaves

Directions:  Stir curry powder in pan over med-high heat until fragrant (about 1 min).

Transfer to med bowl.  Add everything except lettuce leaves (did I really have to tell you that?).  Place one lettuce leaf on each plate and top with salad.

Results:  This was actually one of my top experimental recipes.  I shouldn’t be surprised, because Epicurious rarely disappoints, but it was even better with the seedy acidity of the baby kiwis.  My friend dropped in and I made her try a plate despite her liver cleanse (yes, I strong-armed her) and she texted me hours later to say she was still thinking about the salad.  Deliciously rich texture.  When I can’t find the baby kiwis I’ll make this with grapes, and will throw it into a pita.  Awesomesauce.  Rating:  5 Yums

Wine Pairing:  Winealign.com tells me the classic wine pairing for a chicken curry is Riesling and I’m sick of recommending my favourite, Cave Spring’s.  Its alternative suggestion is a sparkling white, so let’s go with the Bernard Massard Brut Cuvée De L’écusson, Luxembourg, which Winealign suggests is the best sparkling white for under $25 to be found at my local liquor store at only $16.95 in Ontario.  I wish I were drinking some with Emmanuel Lewis right now.

What a hottie – The Pisilla Baijo

Everyone has a hot pepper story, and today I want to hear yours.

Here’s mine.  We’re in Mexico, 2003.  It’s fajita day at the buffet.  The fresh flour tortilla shells are handed to each person by a smiling Mexican in a white chef’s outfit.  I’m faced with a long bar full of chicken, fillings, and condiments.  I’m a kid in a candy store.  I like variety and experimenting with local foods and I’m ready to load myself up.

I go big with pico de gallo, guacamole and chicken.  I’ve stuffed my tortilla so full that there’s almost no room for anything else, but I know it needs a little something extra.  I see one last mini bin of toppings, right at the end.  Yes, it has a sign on it that says, “hot,” in italics, but I like a little spice in my life and I’m unintimidated.  They know we’re lightweight gringo tourists, so they would never let us hurt ourselves, right?  I can take a whole pickled hot pepper at the Olive Garden, and I’m sure I can take this.

I spoon myself one little dehydrated pepper from its oilOne is enough for today.  I just want a mini-kick, I don’t need to take away from the enjoyment of my fat fajita with too much spice.  I gingerly lay it on the top of all the fillings and sit with my husband and friends.

Giggle giggle, “Oh, that looks nice, I didn’t see that when I blah blah blah.”  Polite sit-down chatter.  We cheers, “to a good vacation.”  Sip for good luck and convention.  I take a bite of my fajita.  One bite.  Molars meet only once, releasing the oils in the pepper to the inside of my cheek and across my tongue.  If I was on CSI they would zoom in, and see… hellfire spreading immediately throughout the inside of my mouth.

My eyes go red and I start to cry.  At first my friends think it’s funny, but when I stand and nearly choke they get concerned.  There’s no going back.  The hottest food I’ve ever tasted is in my mouth and there’s nothing I can do about it.  I can’t breathe, and I can’t talk.  I drink water and it does nothing to relieve the fire.  My friends begin to understand the urgency and start to strategize.  “Bread, I’ve heard bread is good.”  I try it and it does nothing.  “Ice cream, can I get you ice cream?”  They run back to the buffet and return with what seem like logical solutions, but nothing helps.  I just suck it up in agony, eyes crying, nose running, heart beating, telling myself that no one has ever died from eating a hot pepper, but wondering if that’s true.  The heat eventually subsided, but the memory of what a real hot pepper tastes like never did.  And my friends’ jokes about me eating weird foods haven’t subsided either.  At least now that experimentation has turned into a world famous blog that is showering me in treasure and riches.  Ahem.

Since that day in Mexico, I’ve been a lot more cautious about eating hot peppers, so when I picked up some long dark green pisilla baijo peppers at the market the other day, I was sure to ask where they sat on the hot meter.  The farmer said they were “medium,” and when we ate them, thankfully, we agreed.

I found this recipe for roasted peppers over lemon ricotta which looked delicious to me, but afterward I found out the the pisilla baijo is used in Mexico to make “mole,” sauce, which I’ve never had, but which includes nuts and chocolate.  I was jealous of the recipe I didn’t make, but I’ll try that again next time.  This one worked out well too:

Roasted Hot Peppers and Lemony Ricotta (Makes about 12 appetizers)

  • 5 fresh pisilla baijo peppers (or other hot peppers), cut into ring-chunks, seeds included
  • 5 garlic cloves, whole
  • Olive oil
  • Kosher salt & pepper
  • 1 baguette, sliced
  • 200g ricotta cheese
  • Zest of 1 lemon

Directions:  Preheat oven to 400.  Toss pepper chunks and garlic with generous amounts of olive oil and kosher salt and pepper.  Roast peppers and garlic on baking sheet in oven 15 minutes, then reduce heat to 350 and roast for a further 40 minutes.  Combine ricotta and lemon zest and spread over baguette slices.  Smash garlic and spread over breads, topping with peppers.

Results:  Delicious.  These had a medium kick, but the spice didn’t overpower the gorgeous flavour of the pepper.  This was a simple appetizer to prepare that would be a hit for anyone who likes spicy foods.  If I see pisilla baijos again I’ll grab them for sure.  Rating:  3 Yums

Wine Pairing:  Winealign.com tells me that Mexican food pairs well with Riesling, so I’ll suggest Cave Spring’s 2009 Riesling from Ontario for $12.95.  Cave Spring has always done Riesling right.

Share:  Please comment and tell me your hot pepper story!  Your uncle never saw one he didn’t like?  You live in a town where people can take hot and you scared the pants off of someone who couldn’t?  Let us know!

Lemony 3-Layer Sardine Pate

You’d think you could learn everything about life from cartoons, but you’d be wrong.  To my great disappointment, my cat has no interest in lasagna, pineapples aren’t homes for sponges wearing pants under the sea (not good homes, anyway), and sardines aren’t always pretty little fish that come lying next to one another jammed into a can.

Thanks “Wise Colin” per your blog as written by a fish

My aspirations of getting in trouble from my husband for dangling a dripping sardine over the camera lens as though it were a mouth were dashed when I opened the can and found this:

At least they had removed the heads, so I wouldn’t be forcing people to eat those.  Again. (In case you missed it…).  I picked out all the undelicious looking backbones and got going.

I decided that I would experiment on my “slummy mummy” group once again.  You may remember that I often get together with a few neighborhood moms to let the kids gain experience in babysitting one another while we drink wine and look at pictures of Jon Hamm in tight pants (that was how it worked yesterday, anyway).  Tempted to include a link to the pictures there, but my mom reads this blog and she would be mortified, so you’ll just have to Google it yourself.

Anyway, I had never tried sardines before, even though I know that my grandfather used to eat a whole can of them as a light snack.  I had heard talk that they were healthy, and so I hoped I would love them as I do almost anything else that comes from the sea.  Turns out that the health rumours were true – although they’re high in cholesterol and sodium, they eat mostly plankton, so they’re low in mercury while still being high in Omega 3s, Vitamin D, Vitamin B12, and Selenium. Didn’t exactly love them, though.

I found this recipe for sardine pate and decided to try it rather than daring the mummies to eat whole fish as though we were doing some weird goldfish swallowing contest.  I prepared it as written, although I substituted lemon pepper for Aleppo pepper because I didn’t know what the latter was and when I found out it was too late to buy it.  Here are the very quick and easy directions:

Lemony Sardine Pate (makes 1 Cup)

  • 2 cans sardines in oil
  • 4 Tbsp unsalted butter, softened
  • 2 Tsp fresh lemon juice
  • 2 Tsp lemon pepper
  • 2 Tsp lemon zest
  • 2 Tsp fresh thyme leaves
  • Pepper to taste

Directions:  Put all ingredients including the sardines and their oil in a food processor.  Blend until smooth.

Results: 

I’ve said it before about other recipes and I’ll say it again.  Meh.  The slummies were polite about it, and one said she really liked it because she’s a big fan of savory, but I thought it needed something more.  It just tasted like lemony pureed tuna fish to me, and I’m not even a big fan of canned tuna.  I also had to put it in the fridge after a few minutes because it smelled too fishy.  One mom who is a great cook suggested I could take it to another level by taming it into a layered dip, so I saved the leftovers and kicked it up a notch today by roasting a red pepper on the barbeque and adding some cream cheese.

Revised results: 

Much better.  That Jackie knows what she’s doing for sure.  The cream cheese gave the pate a richer flavour and the peppers made it more interesting, not to mention that it was a whole lot prettier.  Rating:  1 gag for the lemony sardine pate on its own, revised to 1 yum as a layered dip.  Still not fantastic to me, but if you already know you like sardines you may just love this easy recipe.

Wine Pairing:  A wine pairing is especially relevant for this recipe, considering the fact that we were sampling some as we were eating it.  We were drinking this…

 …which is very respectably rated on winealign.com (and tasty and reasonable at only $10.95 in Ontario).

Bonus weird food item:  Found this while Googling for sardine photos.  I was excited thinking there may be someone out there who likes strange foods as much as I do, but was disappointed when one of the blog comments tipped me off to what was going on.  Still love it, though.  Thanks, “Cupcakes take the cake.”