Eating Seasonally When Nothing is in Season

Unless you live somewhere that remains warm and sunny throughout most of the year, cooking seasonally in the months of November through March is a challenge. When I was living in Washington, my seasonal winter produce selection was definitely limited, consisting mainly of hearty greens, winter squash, mushrooms, apples, carrots, and onions. In Quebec, though, nothing grows during the winter. Absolutely nothing. In this neck of the woods, everything freezes and is covered in a heavy blanket of snow and ice during the winter months, so the growing season is dormant.

So, is it even possible to eat seasonally during the winter in a place where nothing grows during those months without getting scurvy? I am here to assure you that it is, but that it does take a little more effort than in the warmer months. There are a few options if you want to continue eating only local produce: one is to eat the local bounty that remains from the fall harvest. Root vegetables, apples, and pears all store well, and can last throughout the winter without rotting (if stored correctly).

Another is to try some of the produce that is grown locally in greenhouses throughout the year. Greenhouses across Canada grow mainly tomatoes, lettuce, cucumbers, and peppers so that produce can be grown locally in a controlled environment at all times. The pros: buying greenhouse-produced veggies means not having to buy stuff that has been shipped all the way in from California, Mexico, Chile, or somewhere else far away. Also, fewer pesticides and chemicals are used in greenhouses, so even the nonorganic stuff is much closer to organic than field grown produce. There are cons as well, though: greenhouse-grown vegetables cost more to produce, so they cost more to purchase as well. Maybe this isn’t a problem for you, but it’s worth considering. It should also be noted that it takes a lot of energy to grow in a greenhouse, and so I don’t know how much smaller of a carbon footprint greenhouse growing makes.

Finally, you can look for local produce that has been frozen or canned. In the case of canned, and sometimes of frozen, you are definitely losing some taste and nutrition, but if you’re really trying to only eat local, it’s an option. Or, if you’re really organized, you can spend your fall freezing and canning all of autumn’s bounty so that you can eat it throughout the winter. I hope to be that organized this fall, but we’ll see. I’ll admit, it’s one of those things I always say I’m going to do and then never actually get around to doing.

Honestly, my take on the subject of eating locally, especially during the winter, is like my take on most things: everything in moderation. I understand the importance of eating locally for my health, for the planet’s health, and for the health of the local economy, but there are some cases where I think eating locally isn’t necessary. For one thing, I really don’t believe that it’s better for my health to be denying myself such a huge variety of fruits and vegetables throughout the winter because they don’t grow in Quebec during that time. There are some fruits that don’t grow in this part of the world at any time of year: if I were to only eat locally, I would never eat citrus, bananas, avocados, or just about any tropical fruit. These things never grow in Quebec, so does that mean I should never eat them? I say no way. I think that my health is better for having these items in my diet. The fact that they have to be shipped in from afar just means that I should eat less of them, and more of what I can get locally.

Something that I will never ever get from Mexico or the southern U.S. —and I encourage you to do the same—is tomatoes. If you must have fresh tomatoes at this time of year, buy on the vine tomatoes that have been grown in greenhouses. If you’re not sure which are which, the greenhouse ones will be labelled “Product of Canada” (in the U.S. as well, for the most part). Why? The answer is long, but I’ll try to be brief: mass produced tomatoes are picked when they’re green and rock solid and sprayed with gas to ripen artificially. The labour to grow and harvest these tomatoes is often basically slave labour. In some cases, it is literally slave labour. For a crash course on the evils of industrial tomatoes, read this article.

Andrew and I have salad with dinner most nights. During the winter, I make an effort to stick to the most local stuff possible, as I outlined above. Sometimes, this presents a challenge, but it’s also an opportunity to add some variety to my salad repertoire. In looking through some old recipe clipping the other night, I found this one for Beet and Pear Napoleons with Ginger Juice Vinaigrette.

This salad is an ideal representation of my philosophy on eating locally during the winter: most of it is local, but for the sake of healthy variety, some of it is not.

Pears and beets are local, likely harvested a few months ago. You’ll notice in the recipe that there is supposed to be shredded apple on top, but Andrew ate the last apple, so I had to skip that component. In theory, though, apple would be another local contribution.

Oranges are not local, but they are in season, so they will represent the seasonal, but imported, component of this salad. I opted for Cara Cara oranges this time, a less acidic, subtler variety of the navel orange.

The lettuce is somewhat local, and grown in a greenhouse. At least, I assume so, as the label reads “Product of Canada.” It could have been grown in British Columbia, which is not exactly in the golden 100-mile radius of local eating, but there’s no way of knowing. Anyways, it will have to do as the greenhouse grown representative in this salad.

But enough about local and not-local: this salad is a great salad because it tastes good. And it looks pretty.

This is the type of dish that you can bust out at a dinner party and your guests will all ooh and aah and think that you’ve constructed something very complex, when really, all you’ve done is stack the ingredients instead of just plopping them down on the plate. The beauty is in the contrast between the white pear, the deep purple beet, and the vibrant green lettuce.

It might seem like eating locally is a lot of work, especially in the winter, and that’s because it is. I look at it as a challenge, though, and an opportunity to try new things and learn more about where my food comes from. And don’t forget: everything in moderation.

My Favourite Eggplant Dish

I know you’ve all been waiting on the edges of your seats to find out how I’ve been managing in my new kitchen. Well, all right, maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but I do think that my previous post requires some follow-up, so I will happily inform you that I’m faring well in my new workspace. It’s smaller than I’m used to, but I think the limited area is forcing me to be more organized. I’m only pulling out what I need when I need it, and then I put it away when I’m done with it, rather than steadily filling the counter with various jars, bottles, and boxes, along with the detritus of diced vegetables and trimmed meat. Someone suggested that I do away with my drying rack, and while I can’t get rid of it altogether, I’ve been moving it to the other edge of the sink while I’m cooking to give myself a little more space.

I thought that I’d share a favourite recipe of mine today. It’s from Gourmet, but I’ve made a few modifications to it. Inspired by eggplant parmigiana, this "inside-out" version makes for a tasty, healthy, and elegant vegetarian meal.

The main difference between this recipe and a more traditional eggplant parmigiana is that the eggplant is not breaded and fried, as it normally is. Instead, it is baked, and eggs, breadcrumbs, parmesan, parsley, and garlic are combined and pan fried to make patties. These patties are stacked with the eggplant, sliced fresh mozzarella, homemade tomato sauce, and sautéed arugula to create a delicious layered dish.

If you want it to look more impressive, even if you, like me, have no one to impress but yourself and perhaps a husband who will love you whether your food looks impressive or not, but you, like me, enjoy making your food look impressive, coat the bottom of each plate with some of the tomato sauce, centre an eggplant stack on it, and top with a little fresh arugula.

The resulting dish will be colourful and the taste won’t disappoint either. It offers a variety of flavours and textures, with spongy egg patties, creamy mozzarella, bitter arugula, delicate eggplant, and acidic tomato sauce.

The original recipe can be found here.

This one has my modifications:

Inside-Out Eggplant Parmigiana
Adapted from Gourmet magazine, January 2009

For tomato sauce:

1 (28 oz) can whole tomatoes in their juice
2 tbsp olive oil
1 medium shallot, finely chopped
1 garlic clove, minced
½ tsp sugar
Salt, to taste
3 tbsp. finely chopped basil

For eggplant stacks:
2 (1 lb/450 g) eggplants
6 tbsp olive oil, divided, plus additional for drizzling
Salt and pepper
½ cup plain dry breadcrumbs
½ cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano
½ cup finely chopped flat-leaf parsley
2 garlic cloves minced, divided
5 large eggs, lightly beaten
¼ cup water
¼ tsp red-pepper flakes
10 oz/300 g baby arugula
1 cup packed basil leaves, coarsely chopped
½ lb/250 g cold fresh mozzarella, cut into ½-inch-thick slices

Make the tomato sauce: If you want a smooth tomato sauce, blend the tomatoes with their juices either in their can using an immersion blender, or in a blender. If you prefer a chunkier sauce, simply break up the tomatoes using a wooden spoon. Heat oil in a heavy medium saucepan over medium heat until it shimmers, then cook shallot, stirring occasionally, until softened, 4 to 5 minutes. Add garlic and cook an additional minute. Add the blended or crushed tomatoes to the saucepan with the shallot and garlic, along with the sugar, and about a ¼ teaspoon of salt. Simmer, partially covered, over medium to medium-low heat until it thickens slightly, about 20 to 30 minutes. Stir in the basil, taste, and adjust seasoning as necessary.

Meanwhile, bake the eggplant: Preheat the oven to 450 F with the rack in the lowest position.

Wash the eggplant, but do not peel it. Cut the eggplant into 1/3-inch-thick rounds (don’t worry that the rounds have different diameters). Brush both sides of the slices with about 2 tbsp oil and season with salt. Bake on an oiled baking sheet, turning once, until golden and tender, 20 to 30 minutes. Transfer to a plate and cover loosely with foil. Leave the oven on.

Make the egg patties and sauté the arugula: Stir together breadcrumbs parmesan, parsley, half the garlic, and ¼ teaspoon each of salt and pepper, then stir in the eggs and water.

Heat 3 tablespoons oil in a 10- or 12-inch skillet (I like using cast-iron) over medium heat until it shimmers. Drop four 1/3 cups of egg mixture into the skillet and cook, turning once, until patties are golden brown and puffed, about 5 minutes total. Transfer to paper towels to drain. If necessary, repeat with remaining batter.

Add remaining tablespoon of oil to the skillet and cook remaining garlic and red pepper flakes, stirring, about 30 seconds. Add all but about one fifth (2 oz/55 g) of the arugula and all the basil to the pan, and stir until just wilted, 30 seconds or less. Stir in 1/8 teaspoon of salt.

Assemble stacks: Arrange egg patties about 3 inches apart on a baking sheet. Top each with 2 tablespoons tomato sauce, 1 slice mozzarella, 1 eggplant slice (use the ones with larger diameters for this layer), 2 more tablespoons tomato sauce, another eggplant slice (use the ones with smaller diameters), arugula mixture, remaining eggplant, and a final slice of mozzarella. Bake until cheese melts, 5 to 10 minutes.

Plate your dish: While the stacks bake, combine the remaining arugula with a little olive oil (a teaspoon or so), a pinch (1/4 teaspoon) of salt, and a little (1/8 teaspoon) freshly ground black pepper.

When the stacks are out of the oven, place approximately 2 tablespoons of tomato sauce in the centre of each plate. Pick up the plate and tilt it so that the sauce spreads out and covers the plate to the rim (try not to get sauce on the rim of the plate). Place one stack in the centre of each plate. Top each stack with a small handful of arugula, trying to keep all of it on top of the eggplant stacks. Serve right away.

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.

Two Chilled Avocado Soups

If I haven’t already made it clear, allow me to do so now: I am a soup fanatic. I love to eat it, I love to make it, and I love that there are many different styles of soup, each with its own process and technique, and each wide open to numerous possibilities. There is rarely a time when I would say no to a hot, steaming bowl of delicious soup.

Except, that is, for in the middle of summer, when the weather itself is far too warm for me to want to consume anything hot and steaming. The simple solution? Cold soup! There are the classics, like vichyssoise, gazpacho, and borscht, but just like hot soups, there are many, many different variations of chilled soups. And what better candidate could there be as the main component of a cold soup than the rich and creamy avocado?

I recently tried out two different chilled avocado soups with completely different flavour profiles. The Chilled Avocado Soup Shots with Spicy Breadcrumbs from the June 2010 Bon Appétit was simpler from an ingredients standpoint, and focused more on the avocado itself. The Spicy Avocado-Cucumber Soup in the 2011 Food & Wine Annual Cookbook, on the other hand, had more ingredients, and had more flavour complexity.

Soup number one—BA’s soup—was a simple matter of pureeing four ingredients (avocado, broth, heavy cream, and lime juice) together in a blender, seasoning it, and putting it in the fridge to chill. I also made the breadcrumbs, which were toasted on the stovetop with melted butter, paprika, cayenne, and salt.

I appreciate the simplicity of this recipe. If you want a soup that showcases avocado, this is the one. I even went so far as to tweak this one to use a little more avocado, and a little less cream. I mean, the avocado is creamy enough on its own, isn’t it? Another note about this recipe: be sure to use a very mild-tasting broth. Anything with too strong of a flavour will easily overpower the avocado. You may even want to use half broth and half water.

Soup number two—F&W’s soup—was also simple to put together, though it involved more ingredients. As per the recipe’s instructions, I made this one in the food processor.

 This soup includes cucumber, avocado, Thai green curry paste, sugar, lime zest and juice, Serrano chile, water, and coconut milk. Let me tell you: I loved this recipe. I loved the coolness that the cucumber added, and the sugar, while working to balance out the spiciness, seemed to make the cucumber’s delicate flavour pop. I liked the hint of spiciness from the curry paste and the chile. The heat is definitely not overpowering, just a subtle tingling that comes with the aftertaste. I loved the sweetness and the richness that the coconut milk added as well. This recipe seemed very Thai to me, especially with the balance between the hot (curry and chile), sour (lime), sweet (sugar, coconut milk), salty (salt), and plain (cucumber, water). I’ll bet that some chopped and salted peanuts would make a great garnish to this soup.

A quick note on making this recipe: I halved the recipe, and it barely fit into my 11-cup food processor. The original doesn’t say anything about this, but I’ve added a note in the recipe below that if you are making the full amount, you will need to purée it in batches. Another note about this recipe: it is raw, vegan, and gluten-free, for anyone who is keeping track!

So which recipe is better? Well, I’d say that’s all a matter of opinion, and depends on what you’re looking for. I have my favourite, but both of these soups have their merits. There’s a lot more summer left, and plenty of time to try both these recipes, as well as many, many other variations on the cold soup.

Chilled Avocado Soup Shots with Spicy Breadcrumbs
Adapted from Bon Appétit magazine, June 2010, p. 75
Makes 8 small glasses.

Soup
1 large ripe avocado (or two, if using less cream), halved, pitted, peeled, diced
1 ½ cups (or more) MILD vegetable broth or low-salt chicken broth (or, ¾ cup broth and ¾ cup water, depending on how strong your broth is)
¼ cup heavy whipping cream (or 1/8 cup if using two avocados)
2 tbsp. fresh lime juice
Kosher salt
Breadcrumbs
1 4x4x1/2-inch slice soft white sandwich bread with crust
1 tbsp. butter
¾ tsp. paprika
¼ tsp. coarse kosher salt
1/8 tsp. cayenne pepper

Place diced avocado in blender. Add 1 ½ cups broth, whipping cream, lime juice, and a big pinch of salt. Puree until smooth. As necessary, add broth by ¼ cupfuls to thin soup to desired consistency. Taste and add salt to season, if necessary. Cover and chill at least 2 hours. (Soup can be made up to 24 hours in advance.)

Finely grind bread in food processor. Melt butter in medium non-stick skillet over medium-high heat. Add breadcrumbs to skillet; stir until golden, about 1 minute. Add paprika, coarse salt, and cayenne; stir until breadcrumbs are crisp, about a minute longer. Transfer to a small bowl and cool.

Pour about 1/3 cup of soup into eight small glasses. Sprinkle each serving lightly with breadcrumbs.

Spicy Avocado-Cucumber Soup
Adapted from 2011 Food & Wine Annual Cookbook, p. 62
Serves 10

*NOTE: In most processors, the ingredients will not all fit in one batch. Half works in an 11-cup processor, so I’d suggest doing the recipe in two batches for this size of processor, and in more batches for anything smaller. If you have a larger processor, keep in mind, you’ll need space for approximately 18 cups of liquid in your processor to do this entire recipe in one batch!

Two 12-ounce cucumbers, peeled, seeded, and chopped
2 Hass avocados, coarsely chopped
2 tsp. Thai green curry paste
2 tsp. sugar
2 tsp. finely grated lime zest
1 Serrano chile, seeded and chopped
3 ½ cups water
One 13-ounce can unsweetened coconut milk
3 tbsp. fresh lime juice
Salt
½ cup unsweetened coconut flakes, toasted
10 cilantro sprigs

In a food processor, puree the cucumbers until smooth. Add the avocados, curry paste, sugar, lime zest, and chile. Process until blended. Add the water, coconut milk, and lime juice and process until smooth. Transfer the soup to a large bowl and season with salt. Cover and refrigerate until chilled, about one hour.

Ladle the soup into small bowls or cups. Garnish with the toasted coconut flakes, the cilantro sprigs, and serve.

One final note: A really nice touch to any chilled soup is to place the dishes you will be serving it in into the fridge fifteen minutes before you’re ready to plate. This will make the dishes as icy cold as the soup, and the soup will seem even more refreshing!

Not Your Grandmother's Dinner Roll: Cilantro-Scallion Bread

One of the many reasons why I love cooking from food magazines: when I am using a recipe from one and see another recipe right next to it that I absolutely must make at that moment. This is what happened last weekend as I was working on the marinade for the delicious Green Shawarma Salmon in this July’s Bon Appétit. Two pages later, there is a recipe for Cilantro-Scallion Bread that immediately tempted me. The picture was enticing as well: swirls of golden bread, sprinkled with sesame seeds, and filled with something green. I had extra cilantro left from the salmon recipe, I had scallions in the fridge that I needed to use up, and I always keep ingredients to make bread on hand, so how could I not try this recipe out?

If you’ve ever made cinnamon rolls before, you’ll find the process of making this bread familiar. If you’ve never made cinnamon rolls before, don’t worry, because it’s a pretty simple procedure. Start with making your dough, and proofing for about an hour and a half, until it doubles in size.

My dough proofed a little more slowly than the recipe said it would, but I think that’s because my yeast is getting old. So, if you’re using older yeast, expect the proofing to take longer. Another note: I halved the recipe, which is always a little bit risky when it comes to bread because the chemistry is so delicate. In baking, when scaling recipes up or down in size, one is supposed to use a system using percentages so that proportions stay as precise as possible. I was lazy about it this time, and simply halved everything, and it worked out fine, so if you want to make six rolls instead of twelve, go ahead and do the same.

Meanwhile, you can make the filling, a combination of scallions, cilantro, sesame seeds, and olive oil. The recipe calls for both black and white seeds, I only had white, and yet, the sky did not fall, so use what you’ve got. Once your dough has proofed, roll it out into a rectangle, and then spread the filling over it to cover it.

Here is where your memories of cinnamon roll making will come rushing back to you, if you’ve got them. Roll the dough up tightly. Next, slice the roll into ¾” slices. Use a very sharp knife, or use a good serrated knife, one that won’t tear the dough to shreds. A dull knife will squish your roll down, tear the dough, and leave you with some very unhappy looking swirls. Your hopefully-happy swirls can then be transferred onto a baking sheet, get brushed with olive oil, and then into the oven they go.

In half an hour, they should come out golden brown and ready for dinner. The addition of eggs, sugar, and butter make this a rich bread, but I didn’t find it to be overly sweet or fatty. It had just the right amount of richness to compliment the flavourful filling and the nutty sesame seeds. I don’t normally serve bread with fish, but like I said, this recipe called to me while I was making salmon, and so I made an exception. The two recipes complimented each other well, and the meal was excellent. But how could any meal involving freshly baked bread not be excellent?

On a Whim: Spaghetti al Limone

I tend to be a planner, and this applies very much to my cooking habits. Most of the time, I take time out of my weekend to plan out meals for the week ahead. I try to incorporate variety into the seven meals, use up ingredients I have around, and keep things exciting and mouth-watering. By doing this instead of winging it and coming up with dinner on the day I eat it, I save money by not buying a lot of ingredients that will go bad before they are used up, I eat healthier by having a plan, and I save time by not having to figure out what to cook every day. Sometimes, though, I get a whim that I just can’t ignore. When I get a craving—or, we could call it an inspiration—like this, I’ll often give in to it. I never regret it when I do.

This happened to me recently. I was reading another blogger’s post and she mentioned the spaghetti al limone she had recently, and suddenly, dinner had been decided. The rich, yet, somehow, almost refreshing taste of this pasta dish was what I wanted. Fortunately, like many Italian masterpieces, the recipe is incredibly simple, and I already had all of the ingredients on hand. I say, it was a sign.

A lemon, some parmesan, white wine, heavy cream, butter, spaghetti pasta, salt, and pepper are all that’s required. A note on parmesan: good food deserves good parmesan, so don’t skimp out and buy any of the pre-grated stuff, or—heaven forbid—that white powder that Kraft likes to call parmesan. Is this the good stuff pricey? Yup, it sure is, but it’s totally worth it. Keep in mind that you only use a little at a time and it keeps really well, so you won’t have to buy it often. Or, you can do what I do, and buy the ends. A lot of grocery stores will do this: they will sell the ends of the parmesan wheels and other odd little pieces in bags for about half the price they sell the big chunks for. The quality is the same; you’re just not getting one solid, perfect piece.

I used this recipe from the New York Times as a guideline, but made some modifications. A few things in the recipe’s directions don’t really make sense, so I think I’ve written a clearer recipe here. Like I said, though, it’s pretty straight-forward. To start, reduce wine and with lemon zest and some juice until the flavour is concentrated and the consistency is syrupy. Then, incorporate the cream into the reduction.

Meanwhile, cook the pasta in salted water. When it is finished, do not drain it! Use a pasta lifter to lift the cooked spaghetti right out of the water and into the pan containing the cream sauce. With a toss and maybe a little extra pasta water, you’re almost done. Finish it off with some butter and plenty of parmesan.

Finally, plate it simply in a shallow bowl and top with a little more parm and a few grinds of fresh black pepper. In about half an hour, dinner is served, and inspiration is realized.

Sometimes, plans are good. They keep life organized, and they keep you on the right track. But you can’t always follow the plan, and that’s a good thing too.

Spaghetti al Limone
Adapted from The New York Times, January 31, 2007
Serves 4

1 lemon
1 ½ cups dry white wine
1 cup heavy cream
1 lb. spaghetti
3 tbsp. butter, cut into pieces
4 oz. freshly grated parmesan cheese
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

Zest the lemon into a large skillet. Juice the lemon, add about a tablespoon to the skillet and reserve the rest. Add the wine to the skillet. Bring to a boil, and then reduce to a simmer. Let the liquid reduce by about three-quarters, until it has a thicker, more syrupy consistency. Keep a close eye on it—you don’t want it to over-reduce, and this will happen quickly.

Once the desired consistency is reached, remove the skillet from the heat and gradually stir in the cream. Put it back on the heat and allow it to come to a simmer again and reduce by about a quarter. Stir in the rest of the lemon juice. Season with about a quarter teaspoon of sea salt, and a quick grind of black pepper.

Meanwhile, cook the spaghetti in a large pot of salted water until it is al dente. When it is cooked, turn off the heat and do not drain it. Use a pasta lifter to lift the spaghetti right out of the water and into the skillet containing the sauce. Set the skillet over low heat and toss to coat the pasta with the sauce. If the combination is looking dry, add a little bit of pasta water. Drop the butter in and sprinkle with most of the parmesan, reserving a little for garnish. Toss again and add pasta water if necessary. Taste and season with salt, as needed. Plate in shallow bowls and finish with a dusting of parmesan, and a sprinkle of freshly ground black pepper.

So there's this salad ...

So there’s this salad. It’s a simple salad, but it tastes like a stroke of genius. I’m a little obsessed with it. It’s the perfect combination of crispy and crunchy, salty and sweet, acid and fat, with just a touch of bitter.

As with most recipes, there is more than one way to make it. The original idea came from the Montreal restaurant, Macaroni Bar. I’ve never been there, but two of my husband’s aunts (my aunts-in-law?) have, and after eating this salad there, they made sure they got the recipe. I have to say, I am very glad they did, because I think my life would be just that much darker without it. Yes, it’s really that good. Have I mentioned how lucky I think I am to have family members who love to cook as much as I do? The original has a base of arugula and pears, but I like to do it with arugula and cherry tomatoes as well.

This salad, as with most salads, really is all about the dressing. It’s about the right ingredients, the best quality ingredients, and the perfect proportions of each. So, remember these three—yes, only three—ingredients: white balsamic vinegar, extra-virgin olive oil, and honey.

Of course, there is salt and pepper as well, and parmesan. You can’t leave out the parmesan. It’s all about the parmesan … OK, it’s all about the dressing and the parmesan.

To make the dressing, combine two parts olive oil to one part balsamic, and a teaspoon or a little less of honey. Whisk, taste, adjust, and season with salt and pepper. You know the drill.

After tossing everything together, season with some more salt and pepper. It’s best to use coarse salt, like kosher or sea salt, because getting a bit of salty crunch in there just puts this salad over the edge. If you have a fancy salt that you never know what to do with, here would be a great place to feature it.

Finally, serve it alongside a delicious meal. Or, have it as its own meal. Trust me, a bite or two of this, and you won’t want to eat anything else.

Arugula Salad
Adapted from Macaroni Bar, Montreal
Makes about 4 side salads

1 tbsp. white balsamic vinegar
½-1 tsp. honey
2 tbsp. extra-virgin olive oil
Salt and pepper
3 oz. arugula (preferably baby arugula)
1 Bosc pear, thinly sliced OR 1 cup cherry tomatoes, halved
½ cup (or more) freshly grated parmesan

Combine the white balsamic and the honey. Whisk in the olive oil, taste, and season with salt and pepper. If necessary, add more vinegar, honey, or olive oil, as needed.

Toss together the arugula and pear or tomatoes. Toss in the vinaigrette and parmesan. Sprinkle on some additional salt and pepper. Serve immediately.

In Defense of Legumes: White Bean Stew

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I like cooking with legumes. They can be the basis for some excellent dishes like this one and this one; they pair beautifully with curry, and they can be turned into some delicious dips. The truth is, though, if you took my favorite legume-based dish and matched it up with my favorite meat-based dish and asked me which one I liked more, meat would win, hands down. Meat adds fat, flavor complexity, and texture to a dish. It should be eaten sparingly, but also, with great enjoyment. So, when I decided to make white beans stewed in tomato sauce for dinner a few nights ago, I hoped it would be good, but I expected that it would not have the same depth and richness that a meat-based stew would have.

Before moving on, let me qualify this belief: first of all, if what I really crave is the multi-layered pleasure of eating meat, is it really true that I enjoy legumes, that they are, in fact, one of my favorite types of ingredients to work with? I’ll answer by explaining that the reasons why I enjoy cooking with and eating legumes are very different from the reasons why I enjoy cooking with and eating meat. While meat adds fat, flavor complexity, and texture to a dish, legumes tend to compliment other delicious flavors, rather than add their own. They don’t have all that much flavor by themselves, but they work as an excellent canvas for other ingredients and distinctive aromatics.

Now, getting back to my white bean stew: I had seen recipes for white beans cooked in tomato sauce a number of times before, so I decided to make my own version. I figured if I made a good tomato sauce and cooked the beans in it, I would have myself a decent meal. Maybe not as exciting as something like the Ragu Bolognese I made recently, but good enough for a healthy, simple (in flavor, not so much in preparation) Thursday night dinner.

Well, let’s just say that I vastly underestimated the potential for flavor development without any animal protein. The basis for my stew was pretty simple: sweat mirepoix, stir in some garlic, red pepper flakes, and dried herbs.

I stirred in some tomato paste and let that cook a little, then I deglazed with white wine. I stirred in a can of tomatoes, some water, and my soaked white beans. Once that got simmering, I added some sugar, salt, and pepper. I also added a few ingredients that I think helped developed a more intriguing flavor profile than a basic, meatless tomato sauce: some smoked paprika, a few drops of Worcestershire sauce, and a glug of balsamic vinegar.

The paprika adds a bit of spice, and a whisper of smokiness; the Worcestershire adds seasoning, and a hint of something dark, almost meaty, and the balsamic adds a little acid, a little sweetness, and that deep, caramel taste this vinegar embodies.

I stewed it for about an hour and a half in my enameled cast-iron pot, lid on until the final twenty minutes. In that last bit of cooking time, I tasted and seasoned a lot, working toward the rich, satisfying stew I wanted.

I threw in some chopped fresh basil at the last moment, and served it with faro. I think the stew would work well with any grain, preferably a whole grain, because I think that not only does the stew stand up well to the heartiness of whole grains, but even needs that backbone of something stronger than white rice or white pasta.

The dish was a total success—I was really pleased with the results. Meat may impart flavor and richness that all-vegetable protein can’t match, but legumes encompass a whole different eating experience, one that shouldn’t be brushed aside.

White Beans Stewed in Tomato Sauce
Serves 4
1 tbsp. extra-virgin olive oil
1 carrot, ¼” dice
1 celery stalk, ¼” dice
1 medium onion, ¼” dice
2 cloves garlic, minced
¼ tsp. crushed red pepper flakes
1 bay leaf
1 tsp. each dried basil, thyme, rosemary, marjoram, and oregano
2 tbsp. tomato paste
½ cup dry white wine
1 28 oz. can whole peeled tomatoes
1 ½ cups water (or, fill the tomato can halfway with water to get any remnants of tomato on the sides of the can)
1 cup dry white beans (white kidney beans, cannellini beans, or great northern beans), soaked 8-24 hours
½ tsp. smoked paprika
½-1 tsp. Worcestershire sauce
1-2 tbsp. balsamic vinegar
1 tsp. sugar
Salt and pepper, to taste
2 tbsp. chopped fresh basil

In a large, enameled cast-iron pot (or any heavy-bottomed pot with a tight-fitting lid), heat the oil over moderate heat. Add the carrot, celery, and onion and sweat for about eight minutes, stirring often, and being careful not to brown the vegetables. Stir in the garlic and crushed red pepper and cook a minute longer. Stir in the herbs and tomato paste, and cook a few minutes more, until the tomato paste begins to take on a rusty color and sticks to the bottom of the pot. Increase the heat to medium-high, and add the wine. Let that cook down almost until it is gone, scraping the bottom of the pot as it reduces.

Stir in the tomatoes, water, beans, paprika, Worcestershire, balsamic, sugar, and a little salt and pepper. Bring to a simmer, then cover and let it cook for an hour or a little more, stirring and tasting occasionally. When you stir, break the tomatoes up with your spoon. Season with salt and pepper as you go. In the final twenty minutes of cooking, let the stew simmer uncovered. Taste frequently, adjusting with salt, pepper, sugar, Worcestershire, and balsamic to suit your tastes. Try a bean; make sure it has softened enough. If not, keep cooking until the beans have reached the desired consistency (put the cover back on if this is taking a long time—you don’t want the stew to reduce too much).

Stir in the basil, and remove from heat. Serve hot with faro, wheat berries, barley, brown rice, or whole wheat pasta.

A Friendship Restored and a Curry Recreated

I reconnected with an old friend this summer. While we were once inseparable pals, we had grown up and drifted apart. Before this summer, we hadn’t spoken in over three years. The realization of this fact is what prompted me to reestablish a connection with this friend—it was too sad to think that after years of being so close, we could have gotten to the point where we weren’t even talking anymore. We met for coffee, the first of a few meet-ups we had over the course of the summer, occasions for long conversations, catching up on what we had missed in each other’s lives during the preceding years. One of the things that we discovered during our conversations was a mutual appreciation for good food and finding interesting local restaurants. So, for our next get-together, my friend brought me to one of her favorite spots, a wonderful vegan restaurant, Aux Vivres.

 As with a lot of vegan and vegetarian restaurants, the menu was intriguing, varied, and original. Maybe I just don’t eat out at meat-free places all that often, but I am always amazed at the originality I see on the menus of places like these—tempting combination of fruits and vegetables, beans and sprouts, tofu and tempeh, and grains and seeds. That said, a cursory glance at the menu wouldn’t reveal anything out of the ordinary: it contains salads, sandwiches, some chilis, as well as their famous “bowls” (basically, ingredients thrown together in a bowl), and some meat-free burgers. It is the manifestations of these more or less standard categories that are really worth mentioning. I was tempted by sandwiches of grilled eggplant and hummus, bowls of bok choi, pickled carrot and daikon, coriander, Thai peanut sauce, and grilled tofu or tempeh, and burgers stuffed with Portobello, caramelized onions, and chipotle vegan mayo. They have something called veggielox, their vegan version of salmon lox, to be found on a number of salads and sandwiches. They are also famous for their smoked coconut which supposedly tastes like bacon—you can try it on their vegan version of a BLT. Everything looked great, and I hadn’t even gotten to the smoothies and fresh juices.

I finally settled on a mango lassi and the Chana—a chickpea curry wrapped up in chapati, a South Asian flatbread, a lot like a tortilla. Maybe it was the company, or maybe it was the fact that I had accidentally parked four blocks away and had to walk in the rain, so I was wet and cold and hungry, but it was a memorable meal. The sandwich was wonderful—a hot, spiced, flavorful curry, encased in a thin layer of soft bread. The seasoning of the filling was spot-on. I could taste the complexity of the curry without being overwhelmed by too much spice. I could taste the coconut milk it had been simmered in, and I could tell by the bite they still had that the beans had been cooked from their dry state, not drained from a can. I also loved how the curry was studded with sweet, chewy dates, a perfect complement to the savory curry. I was inspired. As my friend and I chatted about life, and love, and food, I knew that I would be attempting to recreate this dish myself.

Of course, that is exactly what I did. It had been almost two months since I was at Aux Vivres, but the memory of the taste of that curry was still with me when I tried my hand at making it a couple of weeks ago. I used what I know about making curries and what I thought I remembered about this particular one to try to bring it back to life.

I admit, I used canned chickpeas rather than dried ones because the can was already perched happily in my pantry, begging to be made into curry. I also thought the dish would taste good in pita bread, and so, in my quest to make more bread, and because I was still on holiday and I had the time, I made the pita myself. Finally, I didn’t have any dates, but I had some golden raisins, so I used those instead.

The trickiest part was the seasoning: it isn’t easy to match the flavor of something as complex as a curry, but enough time had passed and my memory had faded enough so that I knew I wasn’t going to be too picky about matching what I had had in the restaurant exactly. I used what I had and just tried to make it taste good. I used curry powder, turmeric, cardamom, anise, cayenne, cumin, and poppy seeds. For a more authentic curry, the cardamom should have been in the form of pods, the anise, stars, and the cumin, seeds, but I only had the ground version of each, so they made decent substitutes. I cooked my seasoning concoction in hot oil, and then added a paste of ginger and garlic.

Next came diced onion, carrot, and potato. I added the drained chickpeas and the raisins, then deglazed the pan with a little water. Once that had reduced a bit, I added a can of coconut milk, and let it simmer and reduce until there was barely any liquid left in the pan. As it cooked, I tasted, seasoned, and adjusted.

I would say it was a success. Of course, if I could go back to Aux Vivres now and try the original, I’m sure I could find a hundred things that are different about mine, but different doesn’t necessarily mean worse. Andrew and I agreed that it was a delicious meal, and so I’ve shared it below. We had it with green salad.

I have to thank my friend for introducing me to this restaurant, a tiny reason amongst many larger, more meaningful ones for why I am thankful that she is back in my life. She was at my wedding and it felt right—unlike this recipe, like it couldn’t have been any other way.

**Note: If the pictures seem worse to you than usual, it doesn’t mean you need to get glasses: I can’t use my usual camera, and I’m stuck with one that does not photograph food well at all. My other camera should be back soon, though!

Chickpea Curry
Serves 4
2 tbsp. curry powder (preferably madras curry powder)
1 ½ tsp. turmeric
1 tsp. ground cardamom (or, use 1-2 cardamom pods)
1 tsp. anise (or, use 1 star anise)
½ tsp. cayenne
1 ½ tsp. cumin (or, use 1 tsp. cumin seeds)
½ tsp. poppy seeds
1 tbsp. garlic, minced
1 tbsp. ginger root, peeled and minced
Salt
1 tbsp. olive oil
1 onion, medium dice
2 medium carrots, small dice
1 medium yellow potato, medium dice
2 15oz. cans chickpeas, drained and rinsed
1/3 cup golden raisins
½ cup water
2 14 oz. cans coconut milk
Pita bread, tortillas, or chapati

In a small bowl, combine the spices (the first 7 ingredients). Place the ginger and garlic in a mortar with a pinch of salt, and mash together with a pestle to create a coarse paste.

Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. When the oil is shimmering, add the spice mixture and cook and stir until the spices have darkened and are fragrant, 30 seconds to one minute. Lower heat to medium, add the ginger and garlic, and stir for one more minute. Stir in the onion and carrots, cooking until they have just begun to soften.

Stir in the potato, chickpeas, and raisins. Increase heat to high, and then add the water, scraping the bottom of the pan to pull up the brown bits stuck there. Add the coconut milk and bring the curry to a simmer. Reduce the heat and allow to simmer and reduce until there is only a small amount of liquid left in the pan. Stir frequently, and taste and adjust seasoning as desired.

Serve in warm pita pockets, or wrapped in tortillas or chapati.