Thanksgiving dinner

This year, I really wanted to do something other than turkey.

Don’t get me wrong – I think turkey is phenomenal and wish that I made it more frequently throughout the year – but after years of Thanksgivings and Christmases turkey-centric meals, I really wanted a change.  I also wanted something modern, because I tend to always rely on comfort food classics and the usual suspects.

The other change was that I didn’t spend weeks planning out the sides and thinking about it.

See, my birthday almost always falls on Canadian Thanksgiving weekend, so sometimes I’m not entirely sure what night we’re having it until the day before, or sometimes of, so I’ve learned over previous mishaps to go with the flow a little more.

I shopped for fresh vegetables on Monday morning in the neighbourhood and didn’t plan out anything until an hour before I started cooking.

Had I gone completely insane?

Perhaps.

Because the capon was small (2 lbs. boneless), I knew it wouldn’t take too long to cook, so I just kind of winged it and I can’t believe how well it all worked out.

It was the.best.Thanksgiving.dinner.I’ve.ever.made.

Ever.

Menu

Lemon-Sage Roasted Boneless Capon

Trio of Tomato Confit with Mushrooms, Basil & Balsamic

Crisp Organic Green Beans

Baked Potatoes with Green Onions

Stuffing

p.s. I made a Portuguese soup for Thanksgiving Day lunch – kale, kielbasa and black bean. Crazygood.

p.p.s. Usually I think something;’s going to turn out and it doesn’t. This meal completely surprised me. And I couldn’t duplicate it even if you paid me. That drives me crazy, but makes me appreciate the good meals all the more.

Spending the night with Anthony Bourdain

The food devotees are out in full force.

John Gundy, photog extraordinaire, Matt from Parts & Labour, Zane from Caplansky’s and it ramps up as the night goes on. Vikram Vij is here all the way from Vancouver, David Rocco has stopped in and while the crowd started out reverent and polite, it is soon a frenzy of camera flashes and people vying to get close to Mr. Bourdain.

In town to promote his latest book, Medium Raw, Ivy Knight – resplendent in a 60′s style gold dress, patterned shawl and towering wedges – has held this night at The Drake Hotel to fete her good friend and TV star.

The energy high, the food flowing – Anthony Rose (pictured above, on the right) has roasted not just 1, but 2 pigs, to make sure that we are well fed ( there’s nothing worse than chefs and food writers going hungry). He warns Zane about the hot sauce. It’s really hot, he says. Zane takes some anyway.

That’s the thing about food folks. We tend to be pretty fearless.

There comes a point in the evening, after the president of HaperCollins and Ivy have introduced Mr. B., and after he has charmed the entire crowd with his speech, that many of us try to get our picture with him. I stand right  next to him for close to half an hour, but the more famous of the crowd step in, shutters whirring, Anthony smiling politely for what must be a good two hours. You can tell he’s tired, but he’s such a good sport.

I see veteran journalists and TV folks staring. Smiling. Swooning.We can’t stop looking at him. You can’t believe your dumb luck that you get to be this close to such a towering genius, to the man who brought verve, ferocity and badly-needed humour to food writing and food TV.

The room is clearly awestruck, and considering that TIFF ended just a few weeks back, you know that we don’t do this for just anybody.

But Anthony Bourdain isn’t just anybody.

The book signing portion of the evening is announced. And while people try and act casual about it, I am planning what I’m going to say. This is my chance to impart my own food wisdom, to bond with another food-obsessed writer.

The person ahead of me is done. I make my approach. I can’t feel my feet and I have to say “hold onto the book” over in my head so I don’t drop it. I stare at him the whole time as I make my way to the table because I don’t want to be the jerkface that isn’t paying attention to him when he looks up.

He looks up.

I welcome him to the city and ask if he’s eaten.

He hasn’t.

I ask if I can get him something.

No, he’s okay.

I want to make him a roast chicken and vegetables, the most comforting dinner there is. I want to take him to Chinatown, because I know he likes cheap, but tasty fare. I want him to know how much great food there is here. That we may not be New York in size, but we have the same heart and determination.

He signs my book and I thank him.

I make my way down the steps to the doorway. The crowd is electric with excitement, the drinks are flowing, but I slip outside and walk for a long time before catching the streetcar.

I just want to be alone, in the quiet of the night.

I have met and interviewed a lot of celebrities, and they don’t always live up to your expectations.

Anthony Bourdain exceeded mine. And then some.

From the garden

Every Saturday, I get together with my Dad and we go to Phil’s Organic Market or the St. Lawrence Market or some food-related place where we get a few things to cook up during the week.

In the summer, he greets me with a little bag of goodies from his garden – tomatoes, purple basil, green onions, lettuce and various herbs that get all blended together on his way to meet me.

At the beginning of summer, my fab friend Diana took me to her allotment garden (pictured above) and shared her bounty. I took home this bulging bag of lettuce, chard, herbs and other wonders that I would have ordinarily cooked up, but instead made into a salad due to the intense heat and humidity.

Last week, I got to see Diana after way too long and she had just gone through her garden to tidy it up and had saved me some beautiful ingredients for supper.

I had a friend over for dinner that night, but it was still too muggy to cook much.  So I took Diana’s fresh, fragrant basil, crisp green and purple beans and various tomatoes and created:

Chicken pasta salad with fresh basil and tomatoes

10 Bean salad

Green Salad (with Diana’s tomatoes)

It was perfect.

I am grateful to these amateur farmers as well as the professional folks who work so hard to put good food on my plate.

Watch for Poetry of Food’s next issue launching next week for my story about one very special farmer.

Oh Nigella

I recently got The Best of Omnivoire, hosted by Jane Farrow on CD.

Anthony Bourdain talks about militant foodies looking for purity and there’s a whole segment about what customs officers see people try and sneak through.

But my favourite part was hearing Nigella Lawson.

I have read all of her cookbooks and yes, I think she is stunning and sexy, but I didn’t really fall in love with her completely until this interview.

She tells us that she writes the recipe and then prepares the dish, often having it photographed despite its imperfections.

Ahem, what was that?

You mean, she doesn’t have a food stylist working away to make her dishes look other-worldly?

Nope.

Nigella just wants to cook something good that people will enjoy.

This isn’t how celebrity chefs do things, Nigella.  They might just kick you out of the club for that kind of behaviour!

My favourite part of the interview is when she says in her sexy British-lilt, that she just “bungs” things together.

That’s how I cook, Nigella! That’s what I do.

Sigh.

It’s so nice that in this world of better/prettier, Nigella tops the list on both counts, and yet something tells me that she has dust bunnies under her bed and isn’t too worried if she gets some tomato sauce on her dress.

Eating and living with abandon? Oh Nigella, where have you been all my life!

Still eating. Cooking, not so much.

Look, I know it seems like forever since I last wrote, but it’s not because I haven’t been eating or thinking about food every single moment of the day.

It’s just that it’s still been too hot to cook.

Sigh.  I have had some wonderful meals in restaurants in the meantime: Portuguese on College, a venison burger in Summerhill (pictured above), memorable Indian on King and again on the Danforth, Greek with an long-time friend, Korean with a newer friend, introducing my Mom to North Vietnamese cooking (she loved it!), pizza and wine with a woman I knew 10 years ago and am so glad to be reunited with.

That’s not all, of course, but you get the idea.

I’ve shifted much of my writing now over to food and now that the evenings are getting cooler, I’m starting to prepare menus and defrost things.

Get ready.

I’m back.

If you’re looking for me, I’ll be at the stove.

Scrabble night – part 3

I had to throw most of the chicken out.

We tried to whittle down the mountain of poultry that had taken over the fridge, but it was a feat way beyond us. We needed my old gang of cadets – teenage boys that could drink 3 bags of milk and consume dinner plus 2 sandwiches for “dessert” in a single sitting.

I used to feel so guilty about having to throw out food. After all, not only had I carefully shopped (read: put a lot of time into it), I had lovingly spent umpteen hours prepping and chopping, sauteeing and broiling. But I have come to realize that in today’s crazybusy world, you can’t plan the way you used to. Some nights I am certain (and in the mood) I’ll cook and instead I have to do a restaurant review or a meeting runs late and I grab something where I am. And some nights things go awry, a phone call goes well into the night or a neighbour drops by and we open a bottle of wine and, well, dinner gets waylaid.

Since then, because of the heat,  we’ve had a lot of simple foods:

- corn on the cob

- salads topped with organic sprouts and sunflower seeds

- stir frys, pasta, sandwiches. – anything that doesn’t require the stove to be on too long

The most complex dishes I’ve made lately are veal scallopini and stuffed pork chops.

Most disappointing.

Especially since I’ve had the food book clubs and been dying to get to the stove to make some of the dishes we’ve been reading about.

It is 19 degrees tonight. Cold enough for 3/4 sleeves and a jacket.

Cold enough to cook.

Magazines to the rescue

I knew I wanted to cook last night, but I didn’t know what.

I checked the freezer for meats and took a huge bag o’ chicken wings and a tray of stewing beef out to thaw.

Now what?

I headed out to the library and thought I might see some inspirational ingredients on the way.  Lucky for me, I got Food & Wine‘s February issue and Fine Cooking‘s Feb/Mar issue that filled in the blanks.

From Food & Wine, I made Classic Hot Wings (recipe below) which Grace Parisi recommends you flour first, bake on high (500 degrees) and then finish with melted butter and hot sauce.

My fella came home from the office starving, so I don’t know whether it was his crazy hunger or whether they were that good, but he kept saying how much he liked them.

While the wings were baking, I made Food & Wine‘s Celery-and-Celery-Root Salad (which would’ve been much easier if I’d used my mandoline instead of my Chinese cleaver – what was I thinking?).  What a beautiful looking salad and really, just the simplest of ingredients.

My guy does not like the look of celery root before it’s peeled, so while he’ll eat it, he’s not too crazy about it.  This of course, I didn’t know the extent of until he came home and said, “Yeah, not for me.” After spending about 20 minutes whacking the beast and all the other ingredients (my celery root came out not like matchsticks, but like wide watercolour brushes – hey, you do what you can with what you have), I was disheartened, especially because now I had to eat a honkin’ bowl of root veg on my own.

Luckily, one of my closest pals dropped by in between meetings  today and I made her an ad hoc lunch of sliced chicken breast and a side of the celery salad.  She loved it so much, I gave her the recipe!  Phew.  Now there’s only a tub the size of a beer cooler left …

The main course I made was thanks to Fine Cooking. 

Spicy Red Lentil Dal with Winter Vegetables & Lamb might sound heavy for June, but it’s been cold and rainy on and off, so it felt like a good night for something hearty.

I replaced the red lentils with green and substituted beef for the lamb.  Otherwise, I followed the recipe as written.

Spicy comfort food with a modern edge.  It was absolutely perfect and exactly what we needed on a chilly night.

I am so grateful to these magazines.  They made what started out to be a panicked cry of “What will we have for dinner?”, into  a wonderful, memorable, nourishing night.

Directions

1. Preheat the oven to 500°. Line a large baking sheet with foil and spray with vegetable oil. In a bowl, mix the flour with the salt. Add the chicken and toss to coat. Spread the chicken on the baking sheet in a single layer and spray with vegetable oil. Roast the chicken for 45 minutes, turning once or twice, until browned and crispy. In a bowl, toss the chicken wings with the hot sauce and butter; serve.

Hell’s kitchen – part 3

By the time Saturday arrived, I was dying to cook something incredibly involved and time intensive.  The weather however, was so lovely and hot that all thoughts and plans of doing anything in the oven had to be postponed.

Instead, I broiled steaks, marinated in a rich blend of herbs and spices, grillled olive oil drizzled asparagus spears and thick slices of orange pepper, and served some fresh grape tomatoes, Bibb lettuce, tabouli bought at the farmer’s market in the morning and some leftover bean salad.

While this concoction drew raves from my fella, I was disappointed.  I wanted to get right in there and create something wonderful and complex.

The following night I couldn’t do anything too extravagant as I was prepping for an interview with an author, so I not only had to finish the book, but prep the questions for the early morning meeting.  I threw together a turkey stir-fry with cashews and jasmine rice.

I know this might sound elitist, but I’ve always thought of stir-fry’s as meals that you make because:

1.you don’t know how to cook or

2. you’re too tired to make anything else.

I just wanted something healthy to sustain us while my fella and I worked into the night.  I have to say that it was absolutely delicious, thanks to fresh veg from the farmer’s market, juicy turkey strips and a little drizzled sesame oil, fresh ground five spice and topped with cashews atop of perfectly cooked rice.

But I still felt like a lazy bastard for doing a stir-fry.

Longing

Although I haven’t eaten out every night for the past 2 weeks, it sure feels that way.

Between book club meetings at restaurants, my fella’s birthday dinner out, dinner at a new diner with my Mom, I’ve been out a lot.  A ton.  More than I’d like to, but that’s what happens sometimes – no matter how carefully I plan my schedule, there is always a week or two where everything smushes up against one another, leaving me craving to cook at the stove like many women leap outta their bodies for a piece of chocolate.  Then when I was home, I made simple food: soups, salads and pasta.  Quick things I could do in between writing, editing and the various events that have made the last couple of weeks a frenzy.

Last night at dinner with lovely colleagues of my fella, the restaurant “reflected the seasons and regional Pugliese cooking.”  Over neatly procured appetizers and handmade pasta, we talked about restaurants, cooking, barbecuing and of course, work.

What got me is that while our evening was filled with fun and laughter, I felt like the food didn’t live up to the hype.  This restaurant, after all, was supposed to be the “real deal” but actually it was just boring  fare that you could make at home.  You absolutely could.

When we got home, I poured over cooking magazines and some new  recipes I had collected and I so wanted to stay up, cooking my little heart out.

Instead, I went to bed like the responsible adult I am and will try and patiently wait until I can be at the stove again.  At this point, it’s looking like Saturday might be the first chance I get.

In the meantime, I am going to dream and swoon and think about all that I am going to make once I get the few precious hours I need.

I can’t wait.

Surprises abound

What I love about cooking is that you don’t always get it right.

But sometimes you absolutely do.

That beef curry was fanfreakintastic.  Best beef dish I’ve made in years.  YEARS.

I learned two vital things that night:

1.  My method of cooking stewing beef for only an hour and a half is why my stews are never memorable.

2.  Cooking Light Magazine has a piece a couple of months ago about The 25 Most Common Cooking Mistakes that offered a lot of advice I already knew but one that really stuck out – You don’t know your oven’s quirks and idiosyncrasies.

See, a couple of months ago, my sexy fella and I were making dinner together (something that doesn’t happen very often because we both cook very differently and because there’s not a heckuva lot of room to move around one another).  We were making Korean pancakes – MMM! – and I was pouring them into the pan while he flipped them (you’ve got to be quick with those l’il ones) and we noticed that they would slowly cook on 7 but once we upped the element to 8, they started to burn.

We had noticed inconsistencies separately before but not thought much of them – ’til now.

Which I confirmed when I made Beef Vindaloo Curry this past Friday night.

Wanting to brown the beef before adding the other ingredients (did you know that Jamie Oliver no longer believes/does this?  Gasp), I started it on 8 to get a nice seared side, but before I knew it they were blackening.  Oh no, I’ve got like 8 veggies and 5 other ingredients yet to add!  It can’t be ruined already!

I managed to save them by quickly turning the range down, and then up.  Down and then up again, until all the beef was done.

I thought that ordeal was over as I set everything to a low simmer.

Hmmm.  When I turned the dial down to 3 – nothing.  It wasn’t until I brought it back up to 6 that it started bubbling.  So back down to 3 it went.  I left it to stew, literally, while I went back to my desk to do work.

I heard this weird popping noise.  Now, sometimes Cosmo likes to clean between his toes and makes this awesome crunching sound, but he was sound asleep just a few feet away at the end of the bed.

I went out to the kitchen and the stew was bubbling away like it was on 6 or 7.  So I turned it down to 2.  15 minutes later, nothing.

It went on like this for the 2 1/2 hours that it was on the stove.

Our stove is not just quirky.  It’s possessed.

At first, I was miffed.  Great, here I am trying to learn to be a great chef and I’m working with an old jalopy!  But now I realize that if I can cook great meals on this puppy despite its massive weirdness, then I will be a great chef after all.

The roast chicken dinner I made tonight was okay.  The sides were what made it – summer crisp corn, wild and long grain rice and Swiss chard with petit haricots.

That chicken could have been better.

That’s why I’m going to work on figuring out the oven’s quirks next.