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.

Down in the treme

I don’t know why I didn’t take something out for dinner in the morning.

Maybe my hearty dinner at Caplansky’s for our book club meeting the night before made me want to put off choosing some meat.  After all, I had the Cabbage Borscht to start, following by the biggest knish I’ve ever seen, complete with smoked meat sauce and then their big salad to finish.

I had brought home a Caplansky burger for my fella – 20 % smoked meat, 80% ground beef – but told myself that one person can only have so much smoked meat in a day, so I didn’t even have a bite.  Maybe secretly I want as many excuses to go back there as possible!

So I winged it up until the last minute last night. Not my usual style, but planning too much can be a bad thing, so I thought, “Okay Dickison, what are you going to come up with? Is it going to be your usual boring standards of roast chicken, meatloaf or pork tenderloin?”

I left it up to:

- what I found at the grocery store and

- what I could remember I had on hand at home.

Here’s what I turned out:

Baked Tilapia with Southern Crust (breadcrumbs seasoned with Cajun All-Purpose Seasoning, brought back from Louisiana by our good friends Jill & Rob)

Coconut Ginger Rice

Fresh Farmer’s Peas topped with Horseradish Butter

Chickpea Salad with Roasted Red Peppers, Black Olives and Fresh Basil Leaves in an Olive Oil Vinaigrette

Broccoli Coleslaw with Onion Dressing

Not one of those things are a part of my repertoire, so I think I did okay. Plus my fella made “mmm” sounds all throughout dinner.  Our amazing neighbour John came in the door fresh off his tour with the popular band Holy F***,  and ate a heaping plateful and gave it a 9 out of 10 (Because giving it a 10 would seem insincere, he said. I told you he is amazing).

Because I am so easily influenced (see my previous post I Totally Fell For It), I was trying to think of where I got my idea for all of it.

I’d like to think it is because I love the Treme (HBO) character Kim Dickens is playing – she’s this amazing chef just trying to make exquisite New Orleans food after Katrina and she’s having a helluva time staying afloat.

Of course it could simply be that the tilapia was cheap and cheerful and everything else was just what I bought and had in the pantry.

But there’s no romance in that version. I think I’ll stick withthis, my simple ode to the Bayou.

Food, glorious food

I finally made it back to the stove.

After a long day of walking the city, I came back to my hood to do a big grocery shop.

Ahh, so nice to have fresh goodies in the house!  But before putting them away, I cleaned out the fridge – ooh, there’s that lovely chicken chili I made last week and the pesto pasta that I thought we finished…

Then I put everything away.  With one small cupboard and one small fridge, this always means that I have to take out the majority of the items before I can make room for everything.

Really, it’s a whole thing.

Two hours after I had come through the door, everything is finally put away and the kitchen looks pristine.

It’s now time to make dinner.  I pull everything out and start the assembly.

My menu for tonight is:

- Roast skinless, boneless chicken breasts stuffed with wild leeks, fresh basil and lemons.

- Boiled new potatoes with olive oil and fresh dill

- Organic kale with garlic and horseradish

- Chopped salad of romaine, yellow peppers, endive and radish

I was tempted to do a big soup as well, but all that chopping and cooking took another hour or so, and I had started on a dessert (yes, I’m trying to learn to bake) that is going to take a couple of days, because you have to let things cool in the fridge in various stages. So despite how tired I was from the whole process, I was very close to just cooking all night.

However, I remembered that there is still tomorrow and Monday is a holiday here, so I may take a couple of hours in the afternoon to do something slow-cooked.

It is so good to be home, cooking again.  I am like an actor who just found out she got the part.

Tonight’s audition: finish the 3-part dessert (it’s a surprise), homemade soup (I think something minestrone-esque) and something from the new Jamie’s America cookbook.

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.

Nudging inspiration along

I met with my good friend and co-editor Chris this weekend for breakfast, where we, of course, talked food for much of the meal.

Chris has food ennui and well, it happens to all of us.  I get it from time to time, especially in winter where I tend to make a lot of roast chicken, beef stew, chili and meatloaf.

I have found that it helps me tremendously to constantly be looking through cookbooks, cooking blogs and sites and magazines for new recipes to try.  I also try to change up where I shop so that I’m not tempted to buy the same things over and over (this takes a little more effort, but oh-so worth it!).  Just this week, I took my Mom to an area she doesn’t get to often and we food shopped like crazy.  We bought a ton of healthy ingredients that were somehow affordable, and have been inspired ever since.

I was trying to suggest similar things to Chris.  I thought that we could each make something new once a week and then write about it to one another.  I’m going to write about my new dishes here.  Oh, this oughtta be good!

When you cook often, it is hard to keep the inspiration going, but it’s there.  You just have to look around a little bit and you’ll find it.

I’ve already found something I’m going to make this week.  That wasn’t so hard.

Actually, I can’t wait!

Do you go through these kinds of things?  What tough spots have you hit?

Cold comfort

Last weekend I had a weird stomach flu thing.  Now Scott’s got it.

When you are sick, do you crave roast chicken with lemon, like I do?  Or homemade pureed soups like cauliflower, potato leek or lemongrass?

I’m making some comfort dishes for him tonight.  I hope it helps.

Tell me what makes you feel better when you’re under the weather.