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.

Sayonara

I will have had Japanese 4 out of 5 nights by the end of tomorrow.

I reviewed a Japanese restaurant Friday night, went to one with friends for dinner Saturday night, cooked at home last night (potato leek soup from scratch, chicken with homemade barbecue sauce, rice, veg and salad) and then am going to a Japanese restaurant with 2 book clubs tonight and back again with 2 book clubs tomorrow night.

Similar to the “5 Indian Restaurants in 8 Days” bit in my book, I have had the opportunity to really compare and critique various techniques and dishes.  The only difference is that I think I could have a Japanese meal every day.

Hey, I’m working on it…

Finger licking

A couple of nights ago, it was simply gorgeous out so my beau and I decided to go for a walk along with dinner and a movie.

I love picking a spot spur of the moment.  Because I spend so much of my time picking out restaurants, what I’ll have, etc., this is a real treat for me.  Even better if my fella gets to choose for once .**

The area of town we were in was a fantastic mecca of choices – Would we have El Salvadorian or Korean?  Chinese or Hungarian?

We decided on Malabari cuisine, as it’s few and far between here.  Scott picked some lovely dishes.  We started with beef samosas with a tamarind sauce and then moved onto traditional Kerala dishes – Kingfish curry and crab curry, along with vegetables in a cashew coconut sauce, hot, buttery roti and plain rice.

Good stuff, but then the crab arrives.  There are a couple of whole crabs covered in a dark date-like paste.  We are not given any tools, nor was it described to have the shell on. It simply said, “Crab Curry.”

My guy, ever the trooper, dug in, brown fingers and all.  I had a couple of legs, but that was it was me.

Our night was memorable for a lot of reasons, but I’ll never forget Scott heading to the washroom to wash up afterwards and the owner rushing over to open the white door leading downstairs for him.

** When we go out to dinner with friends, they almost never choose the place because they say that I’ll know all of the best places to go.  Sure, I’ve been to many places, but that doesn’t make it any better than a place you’ll choose.

Ad hoc

Sometimes I have the best laid plans for dinner.

I take some meat out, think about what vegetables I’ll comprise, do I want to marinate anything, and well, that kind of thinking goes on pretty much all day.

But sometimes the best laid plans go awry.

And it’s not entirely a bad thing.

I had planned out dinner early in the morning, but by mid afternoon, I’d sat down to have a quick  lunch with my mom, as we were out for a long walk and famished all of a sudden (That’s how it always happens, doesn’t it?  All of a sudden like that?  Must eat now, your body screams).

We shared an unbelievably great hearty sandwich (pulled pork), burger and sweet potato fries with 2 types of mayo (pesto and chipotle).  Needless to say, I was bursting at my jean seams on our way out.

So, 6 hours later and huge city blocks conquered, we got home and weren’t the least bit interested in food.

My fella hadn’t eaten yet, though, and it was already 9:30 pm.  Having just come home from a work function, he was hungry.

So instead of carefully composing dinner like I planned, I whipped things together quickly while a good friend stood in our doorway, regaling us of the morning he slept in this week and the comedy that ensued.

And it all turned out beautifully – organic pork chops with basil pesto, sesame and poppy seeds, wilted arugula and cremini mushrooms in a balsamic reduction, quinoa with red peppers, celery and green onions and nappa cabbage drizzled with sesame oil.

I probably couldn’t have done such a good job had I spent all that planned time on it.

Huh.