Well, I can’t change the weather, but when I’m craving a bit of sunshine, one food that always comes to mind for me, and reliably can be counted upon to brighten my mood, is the humble lemon. I love citruses of all kinds, but lemons have a special place in my heart – they’re good in savoury and sweet dishes, they’re healthy, they’re cheap, they’re available in all seasons, and they’re easy to work with. In fact, this recipe is about as easy as recipes get – you only need four ingredients, all of which you quite possibly already have on hand, a bottle, and a bit of patience. Even that requirement of patience is the best kind of cooking patience – what I have for you today isn’t like a risotto you’re going to stir and stir, but, rather, something you mix up, and then leave alone for a while, and it does the work for you. Sound like a good deal?

After reading a whole pile of recipes, a few weeks ago, I finally took the plunge and made a batch of limoncello, the famous Italian lemon liquor, and I’m pleased to report that, not only was it a rousing success, I now have a recipe to share.

Limoncello is traditionally served as a digestif after a big meal, which is to say, a drink had after a meal to help to happily settle a full stomach, and to accompany post-meal conversation. This is a great use for this very pleasant drink, but, whenever the inevitable warmer weather comes our way, or whenever we feel like dreaming of warmer weather, it would also be a great concentrated and grown-up version of lemonade.

So, getting into the nitty gritty – the process is very simple:

1. Using a kitchen knife (although a good peeler could also work), I cut the zest off of six lemons in long strips. This tends to bring some of the pith (the bitter white layer under the delicious yellow skin) along for the ride, and, unfortunately, we have no place for the pith in this recipe, so the only fidgety step here is removing as much of the pith as possible. With a sharp knife, I didn’t find this to be too difficult, but it does require a bit of the aforementioned patience. I promise – this is the only fussy step.
2. Once you’ve separated the zest from the lemons, cut the zest into long, thin slices, and feed these into an empty (and clean) 500 ml glass bottle.
3. Fill to the top with vodka (or any flavour neutral spirit). A note should be mentioned here about the vodka – I used 45% ABV vodka, since that’s what I can buy here in Jordan, but the more traditional approach is to use higher proof alcohol. This does two things – first of all, it extracts the flavour from the lemons more quickly, owing to the greater solvent power of the higher alcohol content, and secondly, it resists freezing more effectively than lower proof vodka, since some water is going to be added later on. I haven’t had any problems with 45% vodka, but, since limoncello is typically served straight from the freezer (and into cold glasses), you may with to use a higher proof vodka if you have one. (The LCBO sells a 76% Polish vodka called Spirytus for such purposes, and you could use a mixture of this and conventional vodka to allay any freezing fears.)
4. Cap tightly, and leave to infuse for two weeks, shaking periodically (once a day, maybe).
5. After two weeks, the next step is to add some strong simple syrup to complement the fruitiness of the lemon, and to ease the harshness of the vodka. For this step, add 1/2 C of white sugar into a sauce pot, then add 1/4 C of water. Heat gently, stirring periodically, until the sugar is dissolved.
6. Into a pitcher, or bowl, or something convenient to pour from, add some of the syrup, and then the lemon infused vodka. For the sake of extra smoothness, I put a coffee filter into a funnel, and pour my infusion through the filter first, but this is optional. Then, add the remaining syrup, and stir to combine. (Actually, you could just add the infused vodka, and then the syrup, or vice versa, but since this syrup has higher sugar content than typical simple syrup, I didn’t want to let it cool and thicken too much before mixing it, but I also didn’t want to add near boiling hot liquid to vodka, since alcohol evaporates at much lower temperatures than water. The idea was to add some of the syrup into the pitcher, which would then cool down in the pitcher, add the vodka, and then add the rest of the now slightly cooled syrup. This worked well for me, but if you deem it too fussy, feel free to do otherwise.)
7. Remove the remaining lemon zest from the original bottle (this may also require a bit of patience, depending on the shape of the bottle, but hopefully your supply of patience has recovered in the space of two weeks), and then pour your liquor into the bottle.

As of this point, you have complete and ready to drink limoncello. However, the traditional and conventional wisdom is that it will improve somewhat with the passing of a few days for the liquor and syrup to merge and marry together, and it will also benefit from chilling.

I should add, as a quick side note – with apologies to nonnas everywhere, I’m going to break slightly with tradition in suggesting that limoncello isn’t really at its best at freezer temperature. Freezing temperatures give the liquid a pleasantly thick, syrupy and viscous quality, but they also tend to mute some of the rich floral fruitiness and depth of the lemon. I found I liked the balance of flavour and texture best when I stored the bottle in the fridge, but put it in the freezer about 30 minutes before serving, but there are arguments to be made both ways – make lots, and try it both ways.

That’s it! That’s all there is between you and tasty, lemony glasses of sunshine. Salute!

Open almost a year now on the Ossington strip, chef Paul Boehmer’s menu provides an exceptional tour of local and seasonal fine dining choices at reasonable prices. Our party of three started with a platter of Oyster Boy oysters (fresh horseradish and mignonette), venison tartare, and a lobster-avocado salad. The venison ($17) was generously-sized and prepared in the classic French manner. I don’t know what they do to make their in-house bread but all I can say is it was mouth-wateringly delicious. We skipped the signature cocktails and opted for the classics instead. I am a big fan of the French 75 gin and champagne cocktail and have to give Böhmer an ‘A’ for it, second only to Table 17 on Queen Street. Notable for mention on the cocktail list is also the Vesper Martini, James Bond’s original favourite.

The wine list features a heavy Ontario presence while also offering a decent and affordable selection of Spanish, Italian, French, and new world wines from $36. You’d be hard-pressed to find one or two you wouldn’t want to try.

Everyone ordered something different for dinner, which made for great sampling. Making an infrequent appearance on the menu, according to our server, was guinea fowl. Prepared in a manner similar to their popular chicken fricassee (i.e. pulled off the bone) it was a fine fowl indeed. The only downside was the fingerling potatoes: more like giant toes they would have benefited from a little extra roasting. The lamb loin was perfectly cooked to a tender medium-rare served up with spinach and a lentil salad. Again, the toe-ling potatoes could be better roasted. The duck breast – also perfectly cooked medium – came with a hearty pumpkin ravioli. I loved the ravioli; my colleague did not but she loved the jus sauce, which I found were too much like caramel. The side of pomme frites was thick-cut but nicely fried. The mayonnaise resembled neither aioli nor mayonnaise, rather something between sour cream and mayonnaise. Shoestring frites lovers should take a pass. After two bottles of sangiovese, we dove into an amazing Ontario five-cheese plate, a steal at $16 for the portion size and the quality of product (including offerings from Thunder Oak Cheese in Thunder Bay). Notwithstanding the fingerling potatoes, pride of preparation and quality of ingredients was evident in our meals. In fact, adorning the walls to the restrooms are photos of farmers, butchers, and chefs in action as a testament to chef Boehmer’s commitment to his craft.

Somewhat vacant (it was a Tuesday night and the eve of Toronto’s Snowpocalypse) the only minor let-down was the occasionally slow, yet friendly, service. Böhmer is a quality experience overall and one worth repeating. Any restaurant that can pull off an eclectic mix of A Tribe Called Quest, Led Zeppelin, Hall & Oates, and the Smiths with the deft grace of a house-party playlist also gets an ‘A+’ for ambience. And, as befits any night on Ossington Avenue, a wild ride of great bar-hopping will inevitably follow a great dinner.

Böhmer, 93 Ossington Avenue, 416-531-3800, www.boehmer.ca reservations 5-7 p.m. or 9:00 p.m.

Photo credit: Böhmer’s website

The pre-nine a.m. crowd is now gone, and Rooster is quiet. A woman I do not know is now singing over her guitar. She has a Joan Baez way of ending her notes.

There seems to be a feeling of natural, thoughtful calm here: The old large table at the back where several people type away on their computers – The dark wood floor and the tan brick wall at the far end – The two rows of facing soft chairs separated by a low table near the front.

Then, I look up and see old suitcases calculatingly piled by the hands of a designer on top of the cooler, with a child’s lettered wood blocks in front spelling ROOSTER. I notice that table surfaces are covered with books or old games, calculatingly selected. Nineteenth century portrait photographs have been put on the walls, which suggest that the designer may have lost the awareness of authenticity leaving only the capacity for calculation and irony. The basics are good. Why these extras? I look over to the work area where the excellent lattes are made. No not that!.

I wish, I desperately wish, that the designer had not put two large crystal chandeliers above the counter. This idea of adding incongruity-by-chandelier lost its originality about six months after it was first seen years ago. Those who still use this technique should be lined up in a row and talked sense to by cleared eyed lesbians.

Other than the used books splashed around and the basic fit of the floors and the walls, what do these extras have to do with the casual-with-style, self-consciously intellectual crowd that inhabits this space? I know that ironic treatments of the past are part of our life at the moment. Why do these ones, here, seem to jar? Am I just having a bad day?

As I type, others come and take without asking parts of my newspapers. I like to share but I usually expect in Toronto to be asked. Perhaps I have joined a commune or perhaps there is another explanation. I comment to one man who is taking a section that the newspaper is mine, that I’m happy to share, but that I would like it back as I have not yet read the section he wants. He looks at me sceptically and suggests that it is really the café’s newspaper and that I am trying to keep it for myself.

I close my eyes, sip the excellent latte and take a nibble of a decent baked good. My eyes gradually open again, and I focus on a man in a facing soft chair.

He has been sitting knees apart reading intently since I came in an hour ago. He has a close cropped black beard and wears a black baseball hat with a white design. An attractive young woman dressed in Riverdale casual-with-style sits down opposite him. I notice he does not close his knees despite his tight jeans. She picks up her book and appears to read, though she peaks over at him frequently. He still does not close his knees but rather lowers his arm to cover the slight fat roll around his stomach.

I wonder what each of us would want to disguise if we sensed someone attractive was watching us. Perhaps, this young woman finds the roll appealing, and it is only the man who believes it is not. A sexually active friend of mine says that men with extra mass are often better sexual partners than the fit, slim-waisted men that are the popular model at present.

The young woman continues to look at the open knees guy. He now tugs at his tight black top to pull it away from his stomach. He does not understand that the attractive woman does not care about his girth.

As for me, I want to know what he has been reading so intently for an hour with the serious, almost stolid, look on his face. I want to know what he does in the morning when he gets up alone. I want to know who his friends are. I want to know whether his face would soften if he sat on a dock looking across to a tree-covered shore in the late summer sun. I want to know what woman would make him smile warmly and forget the consciousness of his belly.

Rooster is now more crowded as it approaches 11 in the morning. There are more women, and the pitch of the voices is higher and the volume louder. The sound of the music is now lost, and the owner has the sense not to increase its volume, as this would just cause everyone to talk even more loudly.

It’s a chatty weekday Riverdale crowd. Is their apparent casualness as calculating as the design of this place? As is often with any group, the answer is likely only a few have calculated their appearance to fit in.

***

The latte is excellent. There is a selection of decent baked goods. The view across the Don valley to downtown Toronto is remarkable. If you do not mind the tendency to calculation-in-place-of-authenticity of the designer, you would be happy to go out of your way to come here.

I’m not very good at self-promotion, so naturally, like anyone with an inferiority complex, I’ll sell myself by what I’m not:

I’m not Gordon Ramsay. I won’t yell at or belittle contestants.
I’m not Padma Lakshmi. You don’t want to see me in heels.
I’m not Tom Colicchio. I’ve got what my friends call a Quebecoif.
I’m not Alton Brown.I just can’t speak that quickly.
I’m not Anthony Bourdain. Which means if any of the chefs plan to serve a raw cobra’s heart, I should not be selected.

But I do love food; I love cooking it; and I love supporting tomorrow’s culinary leaders. Which means I’ll be a fair judge.

Besides, as a new Dad, I’m looking for ways to make my son proud. Being selected as judge for the Almost Famous Chef content might go a long way in that regard. Don’t do it for me, do it for my son.

But even if I don’t win, one loyal Eat My City fan will! If you haven’t noticed yet, we’re giving away dinner for two at Fabbrica to celebrate the Almost Famous Chef Contest.

A new look, a renewed focus

As you can see, I finally had a chance to refresh the look of the site. The old design was always a temporary one as I looked to build a cleaner, more minimalist design that would focus on content. That’s a crucial part of the redesign. Eat My City is not the website you’ll come to to get breaking news about Toronto’s food scene. There are other bloggers out there who do this very well, TasteTO among them. Instead, think of us as a magazine, with long-form articles that tell a story. Our very popular Illicit Latté column, written by Bill Ostrander, is an example of the type of content we’re looking to focus on as we grow this site, as are Steve Abra’s mad-scientist experiments, which make for fascinating reads.

We want more writers!

The motley crew here in the bunker all have day jobs, so food writing is just a hobby we squeeze into our busy lives. We can definitely afford to grow the team. If you’re interested, email me jl[at]josephlavoie.com. All you need is a passion for food, an uncontrollable curiosity and a knack for good story telling.

We want you to get a free meal at Fabbrica

Next week, Toronto will play host to the Almost Famous competition. Eight of Canada’s top culinary students will converge in our great city to duke it out for title of Almost Chef. They’re looking for a food blogger to serve as a judge, and I’ll opine on why I make a good one tomorrow. In the meantime, the organizers are willing to give out a free meal to loyal Eat My City Fans to celebrate this event.

What’s the catch? It’s pretty easy: reply in the comment thread below with one of your best recipes, something you think would win if you were a participant in the competition. The winner, determined by a random draw, will win dinner for two to Mark McEwan’s new resto, Fabbrica, and will have their recipe featured right here on Eat My City. (I wish I was eligible – this is a pretty sweet prize).

And all it takes is a recipe. All recipes must be received by Friday February 4, 2011 at 11:59pm..

UPDATE: February 5, 2011: It’s official – we’re happy to announce that Ashley Watkins has won the contest. Congrats Ashley! Stay tuned for a future post in which Eat My City showcases Ashley’s recipe. As a bonus to our awesome participants, we’re also going to showcase each recipe. Thank you everyone!

Fabbrica image: Flickr user zv15.

Or is it the beautifully composed woman with a strawberry tart and designer clothes, who sits down beside me after spending longer than politeness requires to look at me. She begins rapid movements of stuffing forkfuls of strawberry and custard covered pastry into her mouth.

Or, perhaps, it is the handsome, dark-haired, private-school-mannered man sitting at the other side of the café who looks at me with a confused question on his face as an older woman talks to him intensely?

I look down at my long double espresso and dense silky brownie. Why did I want to come in the afternoon to this cafeteria in the basement of a store that sells very expensive clothing? Closing my eyes, I place a small bit of the dense brownie in my mouth and cover it with a sip of the inexpertly prepared espresso.

The designer-clothed woman has finished her tart and is now drinking water as an athlete does for refreshment after physical exertion.

The dark-haired, private-school-mannered man is now listening politely to the expensively-dressed, bitter-faced woman who seems to be saying everything she can to ensure his loyalty or, perhaps, obedience.

I turn away and think about the words I had heard earlier, “I know what you need.” What a powerful phrase. The words had come from a face of competent certainty.

When I was at the food area to buy the brownie, the calm, professional, carefully-haired, middle-aged woman with the German accent of competence behind the counter had looked at the brownie and then at me with concern and asked, “No coffee?” I answered quietly, “I already have the espresso at my table.” “Ah,” she said as she smiled a smile of professional familiarity that still maintained the formal distance between us. And then there were those words, said with the no nonsense warmth of a German woman, “I know what you need.”

A stylish black woman and her daughter sit down on my right. Her daughter is both lively and composed. The daughter wears colourful clothes and four bracelets of different colors. Her hair is spectacular. Yet these effects all fit together as if some eye for style had composed them. The mother and daughter both speak to me warmly and then occupy themselves with their food.

An intense man sits down on my other side. He is wearing one of those pinched boy-suits that stylish men are now supposed to wear, even though they look ridiculous on anyone older than 22 or heavier than 140 pounds. He looks at me for a moment, and we share eyes. Then he immediately tenses and turns away, as if looking at a stranger might lead to conversation and he seems to fear that. Or, perhaps, he thought my look meant more than simple, friendly curiosity.

“I know what you need.” She had not said that she knew what I wanted.

We know what we want. Every day, every moment, we know what we want, even if what we want now is different than what we wanted a moment ago. But to know what one needs. Is that possible?

I sit alone, as always, sipping my long double espresso, taking in my mouth small bits of the brownie silky on the inside and crunchy on the out, watching others.

My analyst, whom I refer to when I talk about her with my nephew, the poet, as a wise demi-god sitting on her throne, my analyst usually does not express her views directly. Once, though, when I talked to her about not knowing what I needed, she actually made a direct statement. She said that this dilemma of the difference between want and need and the difficulty of knowing what we need is a consequence of a lack of trust, trust in oneself, trust in life. As with all demi-gods, she left it to those before her throne to connect the ideas. Was she implying that we cannot solve the need-want dilemma directly, that we must first find trust and then the dilemma will resolve itself?

I have no idea what I need. But I do know what I want. Right now, I want to have one more mouthful of brownie just before I sip the last sip of espresso. I reach out and…

………………………..

Holt Renfrew Cafeteria in the Basement

There is no true barrista in sight. Someone should really require those who work the machines to take professional training. However, the espresso is drinkable – don’t bother with their latte unless you are desperate. And, of course, the brownie is essential, though you do not need, although you may want, to eat it all. Pick the one with icing and without nuts. Go here in the middle of the morning or the middle of the afternoon during the week when it is not packed. Then it is just bearable. This café is rated one star. You could stop here if you are in the neighbourhood.

Photo credit: Michael Francis McCarthy

Crumpets seem to be one of those food items which are being progressively lost to the sands of time, and I think this is a shame. A good crumpet manages to do a number of unique and downright pleasant things – it’s crunchy on the outside, warm and gooey on the inside, it provides an excellent medium for various jams and marmalades (made even better by the fact that the “eyes” allow the juicy jammy goodness to permeate the whole crumpet, rather than merely sitting on top, like with toast), and they’re surprisingly easy to make at home. Also, as the cliché phrase suggests, they go quite nicely with tea.

Making crumpets requires few things, but the odds are that you have most of them on hand right now. (Assuming that you’ve made the sourdough starter, that is. If not, well, there are other ways to make them, but I haven’t tried any yet.) The one thing that you probably don’t have, is a set of crumpet rings. I was temporarily daunted by the idea of finding crumpet rings when I set out to make them, but, actually, this isn’t such a big deal.

If you’re into antique shopping, you may be able to find a set of actual crumpet rings (probably from the 19th Century), and I know that some high-end kitchen stores stock new ones, but you really don’t need, or even necessarily want dedicated crumpet rings for making crumpets. For one thing, the actual item is likely to be very expensive, and won’t offer any appreciable improvements over simple egg rings. (Which is to say: they are the exact same thing, but humble egg rings are cheap, whereas the “crumpet ring” name seems to encourage niche interest related price inflation.)

Okay, okay, I admit it. I’d never even seen an egg ring before trying to figure out how to make crumpets at home, but most kitchen stores will carry them, and they won’t be expensive. Essentially, egg rings are metal circles (there are silicone ones, but you want metal for crumpets) which you place in a hot frying pan, and then crack an egg into. This gives you a neatly circular fried egg. (Think: Egg McMuffin)

Rings for making crumpets

That’s it – that the one and only specialized piece of equipment you need for crumpets. The rest is simple stock kitchen stuff.

So, here’s how crumpets work: your sourdough starter is acidic (that’s the “sour” part of the “sourdough”), and, when mixed with a small quantity of baking soda (which is basic, as you may recall from those volcano experiments in science class), you get an instantaneous bubbling and foaming up of your gooey batter. It’s this foaming up that creates the fluffy lightness of crumpets. To round out the flavour and slight harshness of the baking powder, a small quantity of salt, and some sugar help to give your crumpets a pleasing balanced flavour, but the quantities of both of these are very flexible, and can be freely adjusted to suit your tastes. Also, if you want the crumpets for a savoury application, more salt and less sugar couldn’t go amiss, and, similarly, the same equation could be shifted in the opposite direction for sweet purposes.

When it comes to making crumpets, the choice of frying pan is also a topic that merits some quick discussion. Non-stick pans are awesome for lots of things, but they don’t tend to get along all that well with having pieces of metal scraping the delicate teflon surface, and they also tend to be made of fairly thin sheets of metal. On the plus side, this means they heat up quickly. On the negative side, that also means that they don’t necessarily hold their heat for all that long, or distribute it especially evenly. Crumpets definitely belong to the category of food that benefits from old-school pans. This is the time for your grandmother’s cast iron skillet, and not for your snazzy new magically non-stick teflon creation. Save that for your omelets, or fish filets.

To make crumpets, you want to have a steady, even source of medium heat. This is critical – if you have hot spots, or inconsistent temperature, you’ll end up with crumpets that burn on the bottoms before the tops have set. As I say, crumpets are really easy to make, but you need to give them the right conditions. A heavy, thick cast iron pan will take a few minutes to heat up, but, by virtue of being heavy and thick, it will keep its heat, once hot, and will inescapably be evenly hot across the whole surface.

So, here’s my suggested order of operations for making crumpets. Put a cast iron skillet on over medium heat, and put your crumpet rings down in the pan. You want them to be hot too, for reasons we’ll get to in a moment. Get a medium-sized bowl, and mix your starter, salt, and sugar. Measure out your baking soda, and have it on hand, but don’t add it just yet.

You’ll know your pan is hot enough when you can dip your finger in water and let a drop fall off into the pan, and the droplet sizzles wildly and appears to jump out of the pan. If, however, the water vapourizes instantaneously, it may be too hot. This is the only picky part. That being said, like with crêpes, it’s not unusual to throw out the first crumpets of a given batch, while you’re still tweaking the temperature, etc.

Shortly before you think the pan will be hot enough, add in the baking soda, and give the mixture a good stir to combine. It will start to froth, foam, and expand, and this is exactly what we want. Before you put it in the pan, make sure it’s been newly stirred in order avoid any big bubbles. (Depending on the temperature and viscosity of your starter, it may or may not be prone to big bubbles. Either way – stirring will solve this problem straight away.)

After your batter has initially foamed up, and started to settle a little bit (it’s not super sensitive), add a splash of cooking oil to the pan (not butter here – the smoke point for butter is too low for this purpose), and give it a good whirl around to make sure to coat the rings as well as the surface of the pan.

I find that I get the best results from using a 1/4 C measure and filling it about 3/4 full of the batter, and pouring that quantity into each crumpet ring. Depending on the size of your rings, or your preferred crumpet thickness, you may want more or less full scoops, but it’s important that you don’t add too much, or else A: it will overflow when it starts to cook, which is bad news, and B: the bottom will burn before the top sets, once again.

These are slightly overfull, but you can see the eyes forming, and the sides starting to pull away

The reason why it’s important to have both the pan and the rings preheated is that, as your batter starts to cook and sear, it will eventually naturally pull away from all the hot surfaces (unless you let it overflow, that spoils the magic, I’m afraid). Once it does this, you can easily remove the ring, and give the crumpets a quick flip to lightly brown the other side. If the rings haven’t been preheated, the batter will stick to the sides of the ring, and will never pull away, meaning that you have to get out a knife to extricate the crumpet from its ring, and that, in addition to being a pain, and forcing you to clean and reheat the ring afterwards, the crumpet will, at best, have ragged edges, and at worst, be a complete write-off.

As your crumpets cook, big bubbles will form, and eventually burst (aided by the acid + base reaction), and this is where the “eyes”, which is to say, holes running down to the seared surface on the bottom of the crumpet, come from.

One last word on crumpets – they are positively magical when eaten hot, and straight out of the pan with a bit of butter and marmalade smeared on. However, in the absence of the army of scary sounding preservatives added to commercial crumpets, they decline in quality quickly after their initial glorious state. Fresh, they are pretty awesome, but after a few hours on the counter, or, even worse, in the fridge, they become some the stodgiest and most undistinguished things you’ve ever eaten. Have them hot, and you won’t be sorry! If you’re going to make a bunch, have some friends over! Odds are they won’t have the first clue how crumpets are made, so this is your chance to come up with the most impressively far-fetched story you can dream up.

Notes:

This same batter can easily be adapted (maybe with less baking soda) for a variety of savoury pancakes which can be great bases upon which to serve a whole bunch of other things. It’s a very flexible batter, so you should consider yourself free and encouraged to experiment. But, if you find something really good, let me know, won’t you?

Also, if you’re the detail-oriented type, or just happened to closely scrutinize my pictures, you may have noticed that, for all of my fine words about the merits of cast iron skillets, the pan in the picture is exactly the type of generic non-stick teflon that I’ve discouraged you from using. I’ve recently moved to Amman, Jordan, and, surprisingly enough, I didn’t think it was a good idea to bring a heavy skillet on the plane. So, I used what I have. But, trust me, I’ve tried both – cast iron will give you better results.

PREPARATION

Heat oil in a large pot over medium-high heat. Add onions, a dash of salt and pepper, and sauté about 2 minutes. Add red pepper and sauté an additional 3 minutes (Heat option: add jalapeno). Add sliced mushrooms with a generous grind of fresh pepper and continue to sauté for 4-5 minutes until mushrooms are limp. Add the sirloin and Cajun seasoning. Cook for 8 minutes until the steak is browned and allow some of the liquid to boil off (NOTE: drain or spoon off any excess liquid, it should not be overly soupy).

Remove from heat, stir in tomato paste, hot sauce and garlic using red wine or beer to rinse all the tomato paste out of the can. Return to heat for 2 minutes stirring constantly so the mixture thickens and appears slightly sticky.

Remove from heat and add corn, beans, tomatoes, tomato soup, ¼ cup of chili powder and red pepper flakes (Heat option: add more pepper flakes and cayenne pepper). Return to heat, breaking up tomatoes with a wooden spoon, until a soft boil occurs. Cover and simmer 30 minutes, stirring occasionally to prevent sticking.

Add 2 tablespoons chili powder, simmer another 15 minutes. Remove from heat, stir to incorporate all liquid, and let stand uncovered for 15-20 minutes. Serve with crumbled cheese and crusty bread or garnish with nacho chips.

PREPARATION

1. Preheat oven to 375°F.
2. Spread the flour and Panko breadcrumbs on two separate plates. Add the thyme to the Panko and incorporate into the breadcrumbs. Drizzle the mixture with melted butter.
3. Beat the egg in a medium-sized bowl and season with salt and pepper.
4. Dredge each piece of fish in the flour to coat completely, then dip the filets in the egg so each piece is wet.
5. Take each filet and roll it in the Panko/thyme/butter mixture. Transfer to a cookie sheet covered in parchment paper. Bake on the middle rack for 15 minutes. While the salmon is baking, prepare the strawberry-port reduction.
6. Heat olive oil in a small saucepan over medium-high heat. Add the shallot and cook for about two minutes until lightly browned. Pour in the port wine, vinegar, and jam. Bring to a boil and then simmer to reduce the liquid by half (about 8-10 minutes). Remove from heat and let stand.
7. After 15 minutes, turn the broiler on and let the fish broil for 3 minutes until slightly browned. Remove from heat and serve, drizzling each piece with a tablespoon of the strawberry-port reduction, to taste. Garnish with thyme sprigs.
   ]]> http://www.eatmycity.ca/2010/11/18/panko-crusted-strawberry-port-salmon/feed/ 1 http://www.eatmycity.ca/2010/10/22/of-greens-grains-and-goosefoots%e2%80%a6/ http://www.eatmycity.ca/2010/10/22/of-greens-grains-and-goosefoots%e2%80%a6/#comments Fri, 22 Oct 2010 16:14:57 +0000 Jeremy http://www.eatmycity.ca/?p=756 Have a killer main course dish but want something to pair with it that isn’t overcomplicated and won’t beat down your main? There is something to be said for simple, complementary side dishes. Sure, I can make a pretty good Chicken Cordon Bleu, but when paired with gnocchi in gorgonzola cream sauce many years ago it sent my folks to an even earlier bedtime and required two days of digestion.

   Complements can mean contrast in terms of flavourings, but we’re also talking about some simplicity here. Simplicity will be your friend in a large dinner party and can be the make-or-break in a smooth dinner service and also allow you to keep entertaining your guests. Some may profess to hard and fast rules, but as evidenced in wine pairings there is no hard and fast “white meat, white wine.” Be creative and find ways to use spices and seasonings in your cupboard to make the simple seem sumptuous.

   Not to make rules, but rather some considerations could be:
   Big meat, muted grain or starch. Spicy meat, crisp veggie. Creamy sauce, dry side. Garlicky main, citrusy side.

   With some of this in mind, here are three types of sides that can make a good meal GREAT and provide some variety to an otherwise endless stream of potatoes and broccoli. .

   GREENS

   Ontario asparagus in late spring is the best, but we’ll settle for Peruvian in the fall. Take a bunch, toss in some olive oil (add balsamic vinegar if you want to, or not) and sprinkle with some coarse sea salt and fresh black pepper. Grill 2 minutes/side on high heat or broil for 4 minutes a side in the oven. Pair it with just about any rich red meat dish.

   Dark green, nutrient rich kale is one of my favourite green sides right now and ridiculously healthy. Raw, it is like eating a house plant but sautéed, it is delicious and slightly bitter. See the recipe below, with kudos to Bonnie Stern.

   Green beans always look great lined up on a dinner plate and apart from broccoli they are one of the most basic of green sides. Try adding some toasted almond slivers to them or some ground up hazelnuts with a splash of cider vinegar.

   GRAINS

   Some may say “rice isn’t a grain, it’s rice” but whatever… whole grain brown or wild rice or a mix of the two is delicious, healthy and easy to prepare. Good rice takes time, so plan accordingly with an hour of prep time. Fry a diced shallot in a bit of olive oil, then toss in a cup of rice, just until it starts to toast. Add two cups of vegetable or chicken stock and sprinkle in some Herbes de Provence. Simmer 45-50 minutes. If it gets too dry, try adding white wine instead of water. This dish goes well with grilled fish or chicken and when cooked, the rice can stand for 15 minutes if need be.

   GOOSEFOOT

   What’s a goosefoot? It’s a plant that when it flowers yields one of the world’s superfoods: quinoa (keen-wa). If you haven’t tried cooking with it, you should. An ancient South American staple, it has become popular and widely available in North America only in recent years. Super high in protein and fibre, quinoa is also gluten-free and as easy to make as boiling water. The catch is it is pretty tasteless, but think of it as an artist’s palate. Toast your quinoa in oil first, and then add two cups of vegetable or chicken stock to it. Let it boil, and then simmer for 12-15 minutes until the water is absorbed. Fluff it up, let stand covered for about 10 minutes, and you’re done.

   Try frying some spices up front before you toast the quinoa (cumin, chili powder) or with an onion or garlic. Make a dressing for it with oregano, red wine vinegar and olive oil when it’s done. Or, try using it as a bed for a grilled chicken breast marinated in balsamic vinegar. Drizzle honey on the quinoa before putting the chicken right on top to melt with the honey. Delicious!

   One of my favourite ways to prepare quinoa is like bruschetta. Once cooked, add a mixture of sliced grape tomatoes mixed with fresh basil and olive oil. Mix it all together with some grated parmesan and serve with a grilled chicken or pork.

   YOUR GO-TO KALE SIDE DISH

   Trim a bunch of kale, crosscutting with stem-side up into pieces about as big as three fingers
   Sautee one diced shallot in olive oil until translucent on medium-high heat
   Add kale and a generous pinch of sea salt
   Sauté for about 4 minutes, and add up to 1/4 cup water if Kale is starting to burn at any point
   Add 1 tbsp/healthy splash of white balsamic vinegar (substitute cider vinegar or wine vinegar)
   Sauté up to another 4 minutes on medium heat, stirring until it is all dark green

   It should not turn brown and should not be limp and wilted; be careful not to over-cook.
   Serves 4, depending on the size of the kale bunch

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