Beauty and the Bigot

In a perfect world ( according to the radical-leftist-not part of the real world-Prius driving-sandal wearing- Hippie Freaks) would be a utopia where no animal has had their feelings hurt let alone find themselves on the business end of a serving platter.

What about human feelings – do they count for something?

I was on a business trip to the picturesque town of Sackville, New Brunswick. While on a stroll through the town after an average but satisfying meal at a local joint known for servicing the local student population, I happened upon a Natural Foods shop. Naturally it piqued my interest and I stepped inside.

The working couple, made evident by the trio of small children joyfully playing in the back were open, friendly a genuinely in love with the products they sold. All makers of products from organiuc soy to naturally milled wheat and rice, it bore all the staples to keepn your most prized vegan in chow heaven. And then I stepped into hell.

In the back portion of the stiore was a bakery. At first glance it would seem that their game was on and their products all natural.

Their flax square was, and is one of the best tasing all natural products I have tasted – a true gem in a world of cardboard tasting “all natural” products. The square, both crunchy and soft had the perect balance of not so sickly sweet jam balancing out all the flabvours – it was in essence in harmonny, with its flavours.

Unfortunately, it was the store proprietor’s uncouth small talk which left a bad taste in my mouth.

Whwn I walk into a storefront for the first time – polite chit chat is accepted. When I become a regular customer we may graduate to idle banter.

But when I am a tourist in my own country you may not ask “Oh you’re a Newfie.  Where’s your accent?” or “left your gumboots on the boat?” or any other disparaging remark or I will take great pleasure in reeducating you.

The N word- I am first generation Newfoundlander – I am not newfie. Never have – never will. Calling people from this island that is akin to using another word – the “N-word”. You wouldn’t want to do that now – would you?

No accent – I don’t have one. My wife doesn’t – her family doesn’t. My family doesn’t. See the pattern. We are educated, articulate and unafflicted by accent. I speak english – or can’t you tell?

Boots – Nope. We’ve taken so much money over the years form dumb mainlanders we all drive trucks, toss $20 out the window and only don expensive designer shoes – paid for by your taxes. So who’s stupid now?

In a last ditch effort the store clerk clearly out witted and completely out of his element tried to go back “If I was doing something wrong why aren’t there any New Brunswick Jokes”  Easy I said.  Newbrunswickers don’t have a sense of humour.

Here Endith the lesson.

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postscipt:  For the record that exchange did take place -  in that order.  No I am not making it up.  I live in a country who is so absorbed with multi-culturalism and inclusion it has forgotten to include its own people and sheild them from bigotry and stereotyping.  I thought we were supposed to be smarter than that – aparantly even bigots have to eat their soy bread.  Sorry for the soapbox moment.

Evisceration by food critic

I love words.

I love wordplay and irony and sarcasm and biting references and wit and clever writing.

I love a scathing restaurant review.

In my profession of food writer I never step outside those bounds – I don’t tread on the tracks of others nor do I want to have my name published next to a review which could be the difference of success..or utter dismal failure.

If I were to write one – I would write on like this, as found on the pages of The Times. Read Michael Winner’s brilliant, and skewering review here

end

Unlawful dissemination of this or any other writing will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.

The Old School of Paris

I never liked the end of August – it always depressed me. Summer in Newfoundland is hanging its head and admitting defeat and soon, as in every year, school would begin. For my sister, school was a great adventure – she was always excited for the school year to begin and all it would bring. The adventure of walking into the malls where the chemical smell of plastic binders combined with the pepperiness of wooden pencils signified the end of summer and the beginning of fall. For me it was the smell of the end of freedom and the return to schoolwork, classes and lessons.

However, since I have been on vacation for the last little while, and more specifically, in Paris, there has been a lot of reflection on the beauties of the month of August.
August is the month when most Parisians take their annual leave. Restaurants, shops and other institutions can be closed for almost the whole month. The French know how to relax – they get out of the city and onto the beaches. After three weeks they return refreshed and ready for another year of work.

Paris is the center of haute cuisine and fashion. Everywhere you look there is a shop selling clothes and the other side is a restaurant, brasserie, or cafe. In fact there are nearly 20,000 restauraunts in Paris alone, a staggering number. Yet, almost every one we passed over the past week has been full or near bursting to capacity. The city is bustling with life even as it is supposed to be resting. The local haunts for the local residents stay open just to keep them all happy.
Paris is a city of traditions – strict traditions. During the week the streets are fairly calm, with the majority of the people walking around being tourists or vendors. By the time work is over, say 5 in the evening the pace of the city changes. there is a time at the end of every day for a trip to a local cafe or bar to have a drink with a friend. It is not a binge, it is just a way to unwind at the end of the day with friends. Then the brasseries start getting busy for food service around 9 pm. this is when the locals come out to eat. If they haven’t had the chance for the aperitif (pre-dinner drink) they certainly are at this time. Most places are open until fairly late but prices go up after 11:00 pm – and this is accepted as part of being out late.
The weekend is for relaxing, shopping and spending time with family. Sunday especially is critical – the markets open early and the street markets are filled with the murmur of chatter from the cafes and the intoxicating aromas of French perfume and tobacco smoke. The markets are filled with the joi de vivre of the city of Paris. On our market street, which was one of the reasons for staying in this area in the heart of the 2nd arrondissement, with the sun out, it felt alive. There is passion about food as shown by the care in which everyone deals with it.

At the butcher meats are cut by hand, at the cheese shops they tell you the best way to serve them, at the fruit stand everything looks like it came off the trees and into the bins without a hint of damage.

Here even the street food is called monsieur or Madame – I leave you with some easy Paris street food – the Croque Monsieur.

 

Croque Monsieur

2 slices bread, try a grainy country loaf
1 Tbs butter
1 slice of country ham
2-3 Tbs grated Gruyère, or Emmenthal cheese

Preheat broiler.

1. Spread the butter thinly on both sides of the bread.

2. Lay the ham on one slice and sprinkle on the cheese.

3. Cover with the second slice of bread and broil until golden. About 1-2 min

4. Turn sandwich and broil on the other side and serve immediately.

For a variation, top with a fried egg for a croque madame, or stuff with slices of avocado for a croque californian, all are tasty.

Copyright 2007 Unlawful dissemination of this or any other work will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.

“Italian fraternal organisations” talk foie gras

I guess it is true that there is no ducking the foie gras law in Chicago. The “silliest law ever” has hauled in the first victim. I think that this is sad.

I’ve said before that this law is worthless and now the courts are going to have to deal with it. I mean what judge in their right mind is going to even look at this case for fear of being ridiculed by the press? Come on. Do you think this is going to work? Do you really think that a judge would tie up court time with a gastronomic misdemeanor? What is this? Prohibition circa 1930?

I mean prohibition has only made things go underground where more of it is consumed – see alcohol. The land of the Chicago “Italian fraternal organisations” should have seen it coming. Speakeasies are next – line up for your “hit” of grade a “quack”, knock on the door and get asked “wassdapasswoid”, to be then escorted to a plywood table for caviar, foie gras and champagne.

Who knows, it could start an entire underground food movement. Perhaps endangered Sturgeon Caviar is next (already controlled by the Russian Mob). Ban something and there will be a black market for all this stuff – Canada hold tight, this could the recession turn around we were looking for.

Take something easily avilable, place a ban on it and it will go underground. Mark my words we haven’t heard the last of this one. All we can do is see what happens next.

Posting the menu

Beckett on Wine and Restaurant 21

Port Wine Dinner

FEATURING INTERNATIONAL GUEST SPEAKER

HUYSHE BOWER

November 22nd, 2006 – 8:00 PM

Whole roasted almonds with coarse sea salt – Taylor Fladgate Chip Dry

Olive oil poached mussels with red pepper and pineapple salsa – Taylor Fladgate First Estate

Foie Gras au torchon with toasted brioche, dried fig salad, sel rose – Taylor Fladgate 10 Year Tawny Port

Pan roasted duck breast rubbed with thai chillies, pear puree, dry cranberry and pear relish, glazed organic baby carrots, wild rice – Chateau de Serame, Corbieres

Stilton cheese, ice frosted grapes, thin hard tack – Taylor’s Single Quinta Port

Classic cream brulee flavoured with nutmeg, cinnamon, and vanilla, with a snap cookie cone of sugar – Taylor’s Fine White

Coffee/tea with Belgium Callebaut Chocolate Truffles – Taylor’s Vintage 1985

I said that the menu would come soon -  and it did. I am particularly interested in some of the white ports.  While most drinkers tend to lean towards the sweeter side of the porto world, I like the dryness of the white ports.  In the summertime especially.

While not all of the ports are vintage -  it is still going to be a good night out.  A taxi in – a taxi out and a banging good hangover for work the next morning-  swell.

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I’m ready for my close-up

It’s early in the morning and the smell of barbecue is lingering in the house.  I’ve been up since “the crack of doom” to prepare for a photo shoot at my house.

Writing for a food magazine is one thing -  it is completely antiseptic.  I write send it in -  an editor takes it and makes it pretty on the page and then someone makes all the design and hires yet another person to shoot pictures -  all so that it can be wrapped, packaged, sold, distributed and given away.

Now I’m trained in some areas of food production – OK, more than some.  But i haven’t been in a commercial kitchen in some time and I’m not very interested in letting someone see me cook.  Yet here I am waiting for a food stylist to arrive at my little house on a Saturday morning after I have spent some considerable time preparing for their arrival.

What is a food stylist -  what do they do?  Well, if all goes according to plan, they will turn my food into gourmet works of art. Sounds simple, right?  Let’s just say that  I’m a nervous wreck.

Cooking for yourself is one thing.  Cooking for a guest is even easier -  there is no one watching your mistakes.  Cooking food to be shown in a static format to be ridiculed and criticised  for all time.

Cooking for a magazine is different than cooking for people.  See you don’t have to eat the food just make it look pretty.  Sounds easy right?  Wrong.  Perfect food for a photo shoot is difficult to purchase as a consumer in the first place -  but when there is the expectation that it will be gorgeousness on a plate -  that is a whole different matter.

I have come to the conclusion that I love the work I am doing. I love the writing -  the expounding, the descriptive language, and selling the food to other people through words.  I don’t however, enjoy the stress of producing food for a magazine shoot.  I can expound on the technique to make something taste good, write arecipe off the top of my head, and guide someone on the way to make it.  This is the difficult part.

So as I wait for the stylist to arrive -  I am checking my mise en place for the last time.  We’ll breeze through the food she said -  sure easy for her. She arranges the food on the plates -  I have to cook it.Hiding behind a computer screen is one thing.  Having someone examine your work in full colour -  warts and all – that’s a whole different kettle of fish.

Ok.  Im ready for my close up.  Just shoot me now.

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Copyright 2006.  Unlawful dissemination of this or any other work will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.

S&M – the food critic way

Restaurant critic for the NY Times, Frank Bruni discusses the typical day for him on the job and the pain he goes through in order to stay on top of his game. Some say he is a glutton for punishment . Others, like me, covet his job perks and dedication to his profession. This is a good insiders look into the world of the most powerful food critic in America.

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Copyright 2006. Unlawful dissemination of this or any other work will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.

I (de)cant decide

To decant or not to decant, that is the question. Whether it is nobler to let the bottle mature and have at it with corkscrew in hand than it is to let it mellow in a glass vessel that is the question.

Decanting wine has always been a big debate. Hard core onephiles swear that only the most deserving wines need the laborious, but ritualistic method of proper decanting. However, young wine lovers, counter that any wine, old or new could benefit from decanting. So the question still remains – do we decant or don’t we?

For some people, the presence of sediment will either make them drool or make them angry. For the pretentious snobs in the wine world, sediment is the hallmark of a wine that has “laid down” for a while. However the presence of sediment could easily be attributed to the fact that the wine was improperly filtered. Sediment to most other people is the hallmark of a chance to get out a decanter.

For those of you wondering if you need a special container for the wine, consider this – most decanting is done just prior to service, so what it is in has little bearing on an older wine. Although, some sommeliers believe that very young wines also deserve the decanting treatment. The argument is that the decanting will help “aerate” the wine and round out some of the harsher notes generally associated with newer wines.

I sit on the fence on this one. For me the decanter is reserved for two camps – the first is that bottle of wine that has had a good life in a cellar and deserves to be let out and tasted. This requires the task of using a decanter – as to give it a good send off (and if the decanter is crystal – all the better). This is the drink equivalent of a wake for a good friend. It has been good having you around – but now it is time to party.

My second use is a little bit of wine trickery. By knowing how wines work and the way in which they change characteristics in the presence of oxygen, the cheapest wines can taste like First Growth Bordeaux if properly handled. By allowing a younger wine to sit decanted for up to two hours prior to service can really make a difference to the flavour palate.

Although the main reason for decanting is to remove the sediment from the wine you require three tools – a corkscrew, a candle and a vessel to pour the wine into. To decant a wine properly cut the entire foil off the wine bottle – this is to allow you to see when the sediment starts reaching the neck of the bottle. If the wine has been sitting in a cellar for a long time and the sediment has really started to build up, it is a good idea to stand the bottle up about 24 hours before serving to allow the sediment to settle to the bottom of the bottle. Once the entire foil has been removed start pouring the wine slowly into the vessel chosen. Pour with the neck of the bottle over the flame of the candle, and watch to see when the sediment starts to pour through the neck. The moment the sediment starts to move through the neck, stop decanting. In any given bottle the sediment will be mixed with about a cup of wine. This is not suitable for drinking (due to the solids in the wine) but would sure make a good base for a sauce if you are serving the wine with food.

Although any vessel you choose will be good for the purpose, it is nice to have a decent decanter. I have a wide bottomed one made of crystal and it is an elegant piece to accompany our crystal stemware. So whether it is for a First Growth Grand Cru or for that bottle of Premier Plonk, decanting is a choice – like it or not.

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Copyright 2006. Unlawful dissemination of this or any other work will be punished to the full extent of the law.

Hell in a handbasket – Bourdain style

Sometimes food and life get horribly intermingled. In this piece, on Salon.com, Anthony Bourdain writes from Beirut.

Here is a cook, and writer trying to write about the food culture which was in the beginning of a renaissance now he has to wait it out as the city gets bombed.

Beirut is a long way away from his kitchen in New York – I just hope that he’s fine.

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Copyright 2006. Unlawful dissemination of this or any other work will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.

powerfeeds and food podcasts

Podcasts are bigger than anything and here is an example. If demos are for you, then i suggest you check some of these out. I particularly thought the one by Food Network’s Ming Tsai on the technique to sharpening a knife, very informative.