The Pressure to Cook Seasonally

I don’t know about anyone else, but I am finding that I have some anxiety related to some imagined pressure I feel to take full advantage of seasonal produce. I’ve said it so many times that some might even call it annoying, but I love to cook seasonally. This can be challenging at the end of autumn, in the depths of winter and in the early weeks of spring, especially when one lives in a part of the world where basically nothing grows from October through April. The end of the summer and the beginning of autumn, though, should be a seasonal eater’s dream. Gardens are bursting with the supple red globes of tomatoes, the shiny and colourful skin of peppers, and the slightly obscene shapes of cucumbers, hidden beneath broad green leaves. At farmer’s markets, every table is overflowing with the local harvest, and even at the grocery store, it’s no challenge to find a cornucopia of lovely local produce. So in this heaven of plentiful fresh, local fruits and vegetables, how could I possibly complain?

Sometimes, it just seems like too much. I love the variety of different summer squash I’ve been seeing lately at the farmer’s market, and I imagine what I could do with it, but then oh! Look at those yummy cherry tomatoes—I’ll have to get some of those as well. And then there’s the corn, the eggplants, the cucumbers, the peppers, and the fruit as well. Bright little berries, ripe round peaches that make you swoon when you take a whiff, and richly coloured plums that you know will be the sweetest of the year. I buy it all, and I scramble to use it all up in salads and sauces, omelettes and stir-fries, compotes, and pies. There isn’t always enough time, though, and tragically, some of that beautiful seasonal bounty seems to always be lost to rot.

The solution is simple, of course: only buy as much food as Andrew and I can eat before it will go bad. Maybe don’t buy every possible squash next time, and also, perhaps it would be best to get raspberries or blackberries, rather than both. When I do that, though, I always feel as though I’m missing out. It’s as if I’ve let some golden opportunity slip through my fingers by not snatching up every delicious fruit or vegetable that catches my eye. This is the source of my anxiety.

What I’m trying to do is to find some middle ground. I try to buy the best stuff, and then I look for different ways to enjoy it. Sometimes this means eating the produce as-is, sometimes it means discovering new ways of preparing fruits and vegetables, and sometimes it means returning to favourite recipes again and again because I know how well the showcase these beautiful fresh foods.

Going back to favourite recipes and repeating them does not necessarily mean that they will be the same each time. Recipes can be adjusted and altered to utilize whatever is on hand at that moment. Strawberry season is just about done here in the Pacific Northwest, but peach season is in full swing. This means I can go back to that old favourite, Strawberry Shortcake, but with a peach-y twist. I, for one, was not surprised at all to learn that peaches go equally well with sweet whipped cream and dense, flaky shortcake as strawberries always have.

Any strawberry shortcake recipe could be adjusted to use different fruits, but at the moment, I’m partial to this one from Food & Wine magazine. It’s specifically a peach shortcake recipe, which, of course, could be turned into an anything shortcake recipe … even strawberries!

Peach Shortcake with Vanilla-Peach Whipped Cream
Adapted from Food & Wine Annual Cookbook 2011, p 300
Makes one 9” x 13” cake

2 sticks unsalted butter, melted and cooled slightly, plus more for buttering the dish
6 large eggs, at room temperature
2 tbsp. milk, at room temperature
1 1/3 cups plus ¼ cup granulated sugar
2 cups all-purpose flour
2 tsp. baking powder
¼ tsp. salt
1 cup peach schnapps, divided
8 peaches, cut into wedges
1 cup heavy cream
½ cup confectioners’ sugar
1 tsp. pure vanilla extract

Preheat the oven to 375. Generously butter a 9-by-13-inch glass baking dish. Using an electric mixer, beat the eggs with the milk until frothy. Add the 1 1/3 cups of sugar; beat at high speed until the mixture is thick and pale, about 5 minutes.

In a bowl, sift the flour with the baking powder and salt. Fold the dry ingredients into the egg mixture; fold in the melted butter until incorporated. Spread the batter in the prepared dish; bake in the centre of the oven for about 30 minutes, until golden. Transfer to a rack and let cool.

Meanwhile, in a medium bowl, mix the remaining ¼ cup sugar with a ½ cup of the peach schnapps. Stir in the peaches and let stand at room temperature for at least 15 minutes, stirring occasionally.

In a bowl, whip the cream with the confectioner’s sugar, remaining ½ cup of peach schnapps and the vanilla until firm. Cut the shortcake into squares and serve with the peaches and whipped cream.

New Year’s Party: Cooking with Lianne & Three Recipes

The guests arrived at around nine in the evening, but we started cooking at one-thirty. We were exhausted before the party even started, there was way too much food, but I wouldn’t have changed a single thing.I am home in Montreal for the holidays, and spent most of New Year’s Eve and into the early hours of New Year’s Day with my friend Lianne who threw a New Year’s party for our nearest and dearest. We spent the morning shopping and the afternoon in the kitchen together, so I had the rare opportunity to cook with a partner. Cooking with someone else who loves to cook and is creative and adventurous in the kitchen can be both fun and frustrating. While both of us share the same passion for food, we often disagree about the way things should be done, whether it’s how the celery should be cut for the crudités platter, or how much food is enough food. Lianne and I have very different cooking styles: we both like to be creative, but while I like to look at books and recipes for ideas and to get some basic techniques for what I am about to make, Lianne usually dives right in and likes to experiment without peeking inside a single cookbook. Still, on occasion, our creative visions intersect and we agree enthusiastically on things. So a conversation between us might go like this:

Me: Shouldn't you be baking that uncovered?
Lianne: No, I'm going to keep it covered.
Me: But don't you want the sauce to reduce and thicken a little?
Lianne: No, I want the sauce to stay the way it is.
Me: Maybe you could take to cover off for the last five minutes.
Lianne: Nope, I'm going to leave it on.
Me: Fine, do whatever you want.
Lianne: OK, I will.

Or, it could go like this:

Lianne: So I'll add some hot sauce, some brown sugar—
Me: Oh, you should add some vinegar to give it a little acidity.
Lianne: Yeah, good idea! I am so with you on the vinegar.
Me: Maybe a little tomato sauce?
Lianne: Hm, no, I don't want it to be like a pasta sauce.
Me: No, just a tiny bit to give it a hint of tomato.
Lianne: So maybe a bit of tomato paste?
Me: Yeah, that would work. And some soy sauce.
Lianne: Yes, soy sauce!

But whether we were working like a well-oiled machine, or disagreeing on everything, we had fun with it and got to enjoy together one of the great pleasures of the holidays: communal cooking. The kitchen was messy and cluttered—we balanced platters of hors d'oeuvres on bags of vegetables, placed cutting boards on stools because there was no more counter space, and filled the sink with dishes, but we made it work. We joked and bickered and collaborated and disagreed, but it was all part of the process, and we relaxed considerably once Lianne's boyfriend started serving us gin and tonics. It was New Year's Eve and we were spending it together and amongst all our friends—we had plenty to smile about.

So, because I want this post to be somewhat informative and not just my disorganized ramblings on the pains and pleasures of cooking with your best friend, allow me to leave you with a few pieces of advice:

• When it's -20 degrees C outside, don't put your pretty blue cheese appetizer served on endive leaves out to keep them cold—they will freeze and then wilt when you bring them in. We learned this the hard way.
• When throwing a cocktail party, prepare less food than you think you will need—it will probably still be too much. It was for us.
• Yes, olive oil does indeed smoke when heated to too high a temperature.
• Breadcrumbs soaked in a little milk add delicious moistness to meatballs.
• Sometimes, you need to throw your cookbooks aside and trust your own culinary instincts.
• Sometimes, no matter how many great ideas you have, you might learn a thing or two by studying a perfected recipe.
• Cook with your best friend, even if you spend the whole time arguing, because you will grow closer from the experience and love each other despite your disagreements.

And a few recipes:

Sweet-Chili BBQ Chicken Wings
From: Lianne

2 lbs. chicken wings
1/4 cup Thai sweet chili sauce
1/4 cup honey
1/4 cup ketchup
1 tbsp. soy sauce
1 tbsp. paprika
1 tbsp. Montreal steak spice

Preheat oven 350 F.

Cover a rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper. Place chicken wings in a single layer on the baking sheet and bake in preheated oven for about 20 minutes until the wings are almost cooked through and the skin is just beginning to brown. Remove from the oven.
Meanwhile, combine the remaining ingredients in a large bowl to make the sauce. When the wings are done, transfer them into the bowl with the sauce and toss to coat the wings well. Using tongs, place the wings back on the baking sheet and return them to the oven for another 5 to 10 minutes, until wings are cooked through and their outsides are crispy. Serve hot.

Stuffed Mushrooms
From my Mom

24 medium mushrooms
1/4 cup finely chopped green onion
3 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1/4 cup butter
1/2 cup dry bread crumbs
1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese
2 tbsp. snipped parsley
1/2 tsp. dried basil
Salt and pepper

Preheat oven to 350 F. Grease a baking sheet or cover with parchment paper.

Remove mushroom stems (loosen the stem by gently pressing it on all sides with your thumb, then remove with a gentle pull; use a spoon to scoop out any of the stem you may have missed) and finely chop the stems. Melt butter in a medium skillet over medium heat. Add the stems, onions, and garlic and sauté until they are tender. Remove from heat and stir in remaining ingredients. Fill mushroom caps generously with stuffing mixture to just shy of overflowing. Place mushrooms, filled side up, onto the baking sheet. Bake uncovered in the preheated oven for 15 minutes. Serve hot.

Crème Brulée
From Lianne. Makes 4 crème brulées.

5 egg yokes
1/4 cup white sugar, plus extra for sprinkling
2 cups heavy cream
1/2 tsp. vanilla extract

Preheat oven to 275 F.

Combine all of the ingredients and mix well. Pour mixture into four ramekins. Place ramekins in a baking dish and fill the dish with water to about 3/4 of the height of the ramekins. Place the baking dish in the preheated oven and bake for 45 minutes to an hour. Remove from oven.
Remove the ramekins from the baking dish and allow them to cool slightly at room temperature (so that the ramekins won't crack). Once they are cool enough to touch, place in the refrigerator and chill until the custard has set.

Sprinkle a thin layer of white sugar over the contents of the ramekins. There are two methods for caramelizing the crème brulée: if you have a handheld blowtorch, fire the tops of the crème brulées, moving it quickly over the entire surface. If you don't have a blowtorch, the crème brulées can be caramelized under the broiler: place the ramekins in a baking dish and place on the oven rack in the top position under a preheated broiler. Leave the oven door open and watch them carefully--they will only take a minute or a little more to caramelize and they will go from good to burnt very quickly, so watch it carefully and remove as soon as you start seeing some brown spots. Serve immediately—you want the custard to be chilled and the caramelized top to be hot.

A big shout-out to anyone who is checking out Bring Your Appetite because you heard me on Montreal's CJAD. Thanks for stopping by!

Holiday Baking: Brownies with Dried Cherries

Well, it’s December, which means it is officially time to get my holiday treat making on. From a very young age, my mother instilled in me the tradition of holiday baking. We worked hard, whipping up shortbread, gingerbread, almond crescents, sugar cookies, and other morsels of Christmas cheer, always sampling at least one new treat each year.

I’ve decided to start early this year and sample as many holiday goodies as I can before the 25th. My waste-line may not like it, but I’m pretty sure that the secret to happiness can be found in Christmas cookies, so it should all work out.

This weekend, I took a David Lebovitz book out of the library, and though overwhelmed by the number of recipes I wanted to try immediately, I eventually settled on a recipe for brownies with dried cherries.

Lebovitz calls these rich nuggets of chocolaty goodness the “absolute best” brownies, and I’m not going to argue with that. They come out exactly the way a brownie should: thin, soft, and a little gooey. I am a huge dark chocolate fan, so these are ideal for my tastes: not too sugary, but very rich, and plenty sweet. I used 60% cocoa this time, but I think I’ll bump it up to 70% or higher next time and get a true dark chocolate brownie.
And then there are the cherries. Is there any better combination of ingredients as chocolate and cherries? Wait, don’t answer that—it doesn’t matter. These brownies are like black forest cake without being so cake-y. The recipe calls for dried cherries, and I was tempted by the candied cherries in that thick, gooey syrup at the grocery story, but I am very happy I stuck to what the recipe told me. The dried cherries added just the right amount of flavor and fruitiness without adding any sweetness. I think the candied cherries would have made them too sweet and sticky.

Absolute Best Brownies with Dried Cherries
Adapted from Ripe for Dessert by David Lebovitz
Makes 9-12 brownies

6 tbsp. butter
8 oz. bittersweet or semisweet chocolate
¾ cup sugar
1 tsp. vanilla extract
2 large eggs
¼ cup flour
1 cup nuts, toasted and chopped (walnuts, almonds, hazelnuts, or pecans)
1/3 cup dried cherries, chopped

Preheat oven to 350 F. Butter a 9-inch square cake pan and line the bottom with parchment paper.

Melt the butter in a medium-size saucepan. Chop the chocolate and add it into the butter, stirring over low heat until melted. Remove from heat and stir in sugar and vanilla. Beat in eggs, one at a time.

Add the flour and stir energetically for 1 minute, until the batter loses its graininess and becomes smooth and glossy.

Stir in the chopped nuts and cherries. Scrape batter into prepared cake pan and bake 30 minutes. Cool completely before removing the brownies from the pan.