and then what?

What sucks most about spending a whole day baking endless batches of cookies, is not having any decent ones left at the end of the day.

Now I'm going to have to spend another day doing it all over again. I hate Christmas.

cross post because this one really rocked

I had a lot of fun making this cake and I'm pretty damn happy about the way it turned out. Next time, the body will get a little more shaping, but hey, I was hungover from monkeyco Christmas party and didn't even feel like baking.

Now taking orders.

mimolette… a cheese of cannonballic proportions

Cheese is the food that I crave on a daily basis. Even if it’s just a nanosecond of the day, the desire for the luscious milky goodness of cheese is intense.

My foray into the world of cheese did not begin at an early age. I grew up on Mini Baby Bels and Kraft Singles donuts – a slice of Kraft Singles folded neatly in half, a bite taken out of the middle of the fold, and unfolded to get a toothy hole in the middle of the orange square. It wasn’t until my early teens that I experienced anything other than mozzarella, cheddar and the occasional piece of edam. A small wedge of camembert at a monastery lunch and I’ve been hooked every since.


Mimolette (or “Boule de Lille”) caught my eye during Tuesday’s lunchtime trip to the market. Frankly put, it looks like a cantaloupe. The outside rind is a textured, pockmarked beige-brown while the hard cheese on the inside is a bright carrot orange. I asked for a taste and then… WOW. Blown away.

It is a cheese that crumbles and melts away slowly in your mouth. There is a buttery, salty nuttiness to the flavour but also a hint of something fruity or perfumey; maybe even a touch of caramel if you think about it hard enough. The finish is clean with no lingering cheesy memories on your breath (note to self: good date cheese!).

where: chris’ cheesemongers (st. lawrence market)
caveat: $$ at $63/kg, it's not cheap! yikes!

la maquette

wild mushroom strudel in a spinach and leek cream sauce



La Maquette is supposedly the city's most romantic restaurant. I can see how one might think that if one was sitting on the patio on a warm summer day watching freshly married people walk out of St. James Cathedral, but the inside decor is heavy and stuffy and feels somewhat like a slightly dated Woodbridge fine dining establishment.

chilean sea bass on basmati rice



The food is french influenced and surprisingly inconsistent for such a highly touted restaurant. The highlight of the meal (and the only thing really worth talking about) is the wild mushroom strudel appetizer. Surprisingly rich in texture and flavour, the strudel pastry was tender, flakey and melted quickly on the tongue. The wild mushrooms were well seasoned (no bland mushrooms here) with a depth that was enhanced by the slight sweetness of the spinach and leek sauce.

While I can't see myself making a special trip to King East for any of the entrees that we ordered(chilean sea bass, duet of organic chicken and foie gras terrine, and duck confit), I look forward to a pre-theater or people watching afternoon with the musroom strudel and a glass of wine (or two).

where: 111 king st. east

rhymes with orange

2 weeks of tangerine obsession... culminates in... failure...

Some things are better when you dream about them, and not when you try to bring it into reality.

bar burrito... the one that almost did me in

I suppose I've been lucky thus far. Everyone has had a bad burrito adventure, but I've remained relatively unscathed. Until today - Bar Burrito. On Yonge, just north of Sheppard. It's big, it's clean, it's just not too good.

I should have clued in when I ordered. The fish would take 10 - 15 minutes, the steak and chicken mixes were already ready. The dog was tied up outside, I didn't want to wait, so a chicken and steak mix it would have to be.

My whole wheat tortilla went into the warmer, came out of the warmer, and the girl began slopping on random spoonfuls. My toppings came next - everything no green peppers, jalapenos are ok. Sauces good.

My next clue should have been when she wrapped the tortilla a little too hard and mushy rice and beans started showing through. She looked at it for a split second longer than she should have while deciding whether or not she should start the process over, decided not to, and plopped the monstrosity onto the grill. Great. Nice work ethic there, chick.

But I was feeling a little passive agressive. It was my first time at Bar Burrito, and I kinda knew that there would be a high possibility that I'd be blogging about it, and hey, it's the total experience that matters and not just the food itself. I grabbed my haphazardly wrapped up burrito and left expecting to return home with a pocketful of leaky burrito juice.

Up until that point, I hadn't been particularly impressed. The concept was a ripoff of another well known, established burrito joint downtown. At home, when I unwrapped my burrito, I thought the tides had turned. My meal hadn't leaked, the integrity of the tortilla was still intact, and minimal amounts of rice and beans had fallen out. Good sign.

Two bites in, I changed my mind again. Suddenly, my tongue was going to swell up in my mouth and death was imminently possible. I can take a lot of spice, but this was ridiculous. Maybe I had been slightly over ambitious when I asked her for hot sauce, but then again, who would have expected that they slice their jalapenos into half inch slices. Half inch slices... more than a centimeter of jalapeno in one bite. What the hell was the lazy ass dude with a knife thinking? Maybe I should go after them for attempted murder.

Things never got better beyond that point. The steak and the chicken were virtually indistinguishable from each other. Both were tough and tasted exactly the same to my pepper seared palate. And somehow, when I dissected the burrito to remove the offending jalapenos, I found three random corn kernels that didn't reappear anywhere else in my meal. Scary, but interesting... my Bar Burrito experience ended there.

I had been curious about this place for a while. Some people had raved about it, saying that they were going for twice-weekly burrito fixes. I have absolutely no idea what they were thinking - Burrito Boyz of the north, this is definitely not.

in search of the perfect poutine...

Poutine is the quintessential Canadian comfort food. French fries topped with cheese curds, covered with hot gravy, it satisfies like nothing else after a long, cold day on snow covered slopes or a happily sloppy night of bar hopping.

For many, the classic version of cheese curds and chicken gravy is holy, and should not be messed with. Bah humbug to the purist. Insisting on only a classic poutine and no other is like insisting on a cheese pizza only, or only sleeping on white cotton sheets. BORING. But for others (myself included), it is the lure of the satin sheets and the temptation of the variations that draws us out to the latest and greatest roadside truck, fry stand or wayside diner.

Everyone these days has a version of poutine - fast food chains and even four star restaurants - but what is it that makes a good poutine? It's a simple combination. Fries. Cheese. Gravy. In that order. Nothing special just an ooey gooey mess. Right? Wrong.

It's like saying that all pizza is the same - that the crust doesn't matter, the acidity and sweetness of the sauce doesn't matter, nor does the quality of the toppings, or even what kind of toppings are used. Fries are not just fries. Cheese is not just cheese and gravy is not just brown sauce that has been reheated in the microwave.

The key to a good poutine is the fries. Fries must be crispy and not soggy, medium cut - not thin like shoestrings, and not thick like homefries - and heaven forbid if there is a coating or flavouring of any kind except for salt. Oh, and they should be twice fried, if possible, so the gravy does not soak through as quickly and render the dish into a soggy mess.

Then bring on everything else - the squeaky fresh cheese curds, foie gras, the horse fat fries, the twice fried fries, the chicken gravy, the pasta sauce (for the Italian version), the Montreal smoked meat, feta cheese, American cheese, etc etc. Combinations are endless, but all worth a try.

personal rave: "dirty fries" - greek fry poutine with meat
where: alexandro at the food of qq & yonge

1 cake, 2 cake, 3 cake... i bake

I'm always a little trepidatious when it comes to trying new cake recipes. I like using the tried and true, whether it be for taste or texture, and don't tend to vary from the usual vanilla or chocolate. But my repetoire is getting a little narrow. Sure, I can decorate like a fiend, but I'd love for my cakes to taste amazing as well. It's not enough that they LOOK good, but they have to TASTE good, too.

But here's my dirty little secret.

I. DON'T. LIKE. CAKE.

If I can help it, I don't eat cake. I'm not crazy about sweets in particular (some exceptions may apply... i.e. pie), and cake has got to be on the bottom of the list of things I'd willingly put into my mouth.

There's no rhyme or reason behind my dislike. I just don't. I used to like cake. I don't anymore.

So when I bake a cake, I try a piece to check that I didn't inadvertently use salt instead of sugar and baking powder instead of baking soda, that's about it. I rely on everyone else around me to tell me if it tastes good (or bad). But like everyone else, I'm finding that people's opinions vary from night and day. There's the "too sweet" people and the "too rich" people to the "not chocolatey enough" people and the "omg, this is the best damned thing I've ever eaten" people. Thus, it's really hard for me to judge what recipe is worthy of repeating.

Today, I tried a new recipe for chocolate mud cake that I have been eyeing for a few weeks now. At first, I was intrigued by the white chocolate version, but hey, I don't like white chocolate very much, and Wednesday's birthday boy is apparently a chocolate fan. Done.

Only, halfway through the baking process I got distracted by something on television and forgot to add some ingredients. Key ingredients such as SUGAR and COCOA POWDER (oh my!). And me being forgetful me, I didn't double check the recipe and popped the whole thing into the oven at 160 degrees C. Whoops.

An hour and a bit later, the kitchen smelled heavenly. Aroma de chocolat filled the air and everyone else's taste buds were watering. The cake smelled fantastic... and tasted... not bad.

It was more of a dark chocolate souffle. Very light and airy and not sweet at all. It would have been a perfect recipe for a molten lava cake, and amazing if paired with ice cream and a light drizzle of raspberry coulis.

So what am I saying with all this? Nothing really. Only that sometimes accidents are a good thing.

Oh, and btw, I made another cake following the recipe to the "T" that somehow, it doesn't seem quite as good. But we'll let the birthday boy be the judge of that recipe.

a taste of liquid sunshine

There is nothing close to the experience of sipping Pernod on a patio in the summertime. The pastis is light and incredibly refreshing, tasting faintly of anise and unlike a lot of cocktails, not too sweet. A simple squeeze of lemon enhances the aromas and opens up the flavours of the drink, giving it a depth that others come close to having, but don't.

The happy, sunny yellow colour of the drink is characteristic of this particular spirit. It pours clear out of the bottle, and turns milky-opaque when water (or ice) is added.

Which is very important to know.

Because, if say, one was sitting on the patio at jump and orders a Pernod with water and lemon, and receives something that is more of a milky beige than a sunny yellow, one would know that it is not Pernod and that the bartender is trying to pull the wool over one's eyes by substituting Ricard. Which does, by the way, taste different and has a stronger lingering licorice-like finish with none of the floral notes of Pernod.

(note to bartender... don't do it again)

Finding it in Toronto patios and bars is still a little difficult - demand and supply and the fact that marketing efforts seem to be concentrated in Quebec (aging French ex-pat target market and all that jazz). If you do manage to find it, prices will vary from the amazing value for money $4.55 at jump to a not so wallet friendly $10-something at the middle-management-convention filled louge at the hotel on Front St. across from Lone Star.

(see how far I'll go to avoid mentioning the name of that place...)

Word of caution. Pernod is definitely not the drink for everyone - some people find the anise flavour off-putting. And while I'm usually a card carrying member of the licorice haters party and really truly do think that the flavour of black licorice in anything is just plain icky, the mildness of the Pernod is strangely appealing... especially with that squeeze of lemon.

strawberry experiment #1

Sometimes, I just sit at my desk thinking about food. Usually this happens just before lunch (when I'm hungry), or around 3pm (when I'm sleepy). Yesterday I wanted to make a strawberry white chocolate chip cookie, i.e. take your classic chocolate chip cookie, use white chocolate chips, and instead of raisins (or whatever) use dried strawberries.

Sounds fab, no?

Alas, it wasn't to be. No one at the Bayview Village Loblaws has even heard of dried strawberries, and me being lazy, it being kinda late by the time I got there, I didn't feel like driving all over town looking for something that may be not be readily available. So I improvised instead. Not bad. Next time, though, I might add a little more strawberry puree and perhaps not bake it for so long.

Of course, the wicked strawberry mojito may be why I lost track of time.

strawberry white chocolate chip cookies

INGREDIENTS
3 cups flour
1 tsp baking soda
3/4 tsp salt
1 cup unsalted butter
1/2 cup sugar
1 cup brown sugar
1 egg
1 tbsp vanilla
3/4 cup mashed strawberries (drained of juice)
mint leaves
1 oz Havana Club
soda water
juice of 1/2 lime
1 1/2 cups white chocolate chips

DIRECTIONS
1. Mash strawberries and drain out most of the juice.
2. In a tall glass, muddle together strawberry juice, mint leaves, and lime juice. Add Havana Club, and top with soda water. Sugar to taste, garnish with a sprig of mint if you want to get fancy.
3. Take a sip of your wicked strawberry mojito.
4. Cream together sugar and butter. I like to do white sugar first, and then brown sugar.
5. Take a sip of your wicked strawberry mojito.
6. Beat in egg and vanilla.
7. Phew... that was hard work... take a long sip of your wicked strawberry mojito.
8. Stir in strawberry puree.
9. Take a sip of your wicked strawberry mojito.
11. In a separate bowl, combine flour, baking soda and salt.
12. Slowly add dry mix to wet, stir until almost incorporated
13. Take a sip of your wicked strawberry mojito.
14. Stir in white chocolate chips.
15. Spoon onto parchment lined cookie sheets.
16. Bake at 350 degrees fahrenheit for about 11-13 minutes, or until cookie looks almost done.
17. Make another wicked strawberry mojito.
18. Remove cookies from oven, and let sit for a few minutes before transferring to a wire rack to cool completely.

a la eminger... courtesy of foodporn (aka foodtv)

I saw it on foodporn, and I had to try it. Eminger Berries down south somewhere does an amazingly scrumptious version of a chocolate covered strawberry. Chocolate and strawberries... not new. Strawberries and cheesecake... definitely not new. Throw all three together, and you've got everyone lining up at your door begging for more.

cheesecake stuffed strawberries

INGREDIENTS
Freshly baked cheesecake, mushed into a paste of sorts
Strawberries
Dark chocolate, melted

DIRECTIONS
1. Cut the ends off the strawberries.
2. Take a small ball of the cheesecake mush and mold it to the end of a strawberry.
3. Shape cheesecake using the palm of your hand.
4. Dip strawberry in chocolate.

Easy peesy, no?

pearl on the waterfront...

For as long as I can remember, weekends were always about food. Early morning memories are filled with all the women sitting around the kitchen table making rice dumplings for various festivals, while the younger generation squished out pot sticker wrappers with tortilla presses. Giant pots of congee sat on the stove, simmering away while everyone gossipped and chatted away.

What I always loved most, though, was dim sum. Early morning or late afternoon, dim sum was always an occasion where family would get together. People dropped by when they could, have a few nibbles and a cup of tea, and then depart for the next piano lesson or badminton tournament. Inevitably, there was always an extended family member or friend of the family to bump into, and a lot of catching up to be done.

The wonderful thing about living in Toronto is the abundance and variety of dim sum that can be found. Though only a handful of restaurants can lay claim to being truly authentic, it's that neverending search for that perfect quintessential dish that keeps one coming back for more.

where: pearl, queens quay terminal

personal raves: char sui sow, fung jow, eggtarts

xacutti... always a good thing

bombay scrambled eggs



egg white frittata



mango and blueberry pancakes



where: xacutti
next time: super cheesy french toast

you heard it here first...

neopolitan

Equal parts Carolans, Frangelico, Amaretto... and a splash of strawberry juice.

Tastes just like the ice cream.

yum.

it's all about the secret sauce

schmassion's costa rican version of a mexican black bean and corn salad

INGREDIENTS
corn
black beans, cooked but not mushy
tomatoe, diced
cilantro, shredded
lizano
salt & pepper to taste

DIRECTIONS
1. Throw everything together.
2. Mix well.
3. Add salt and pepper and lizano to taste.
4. Let it sit for a bit.
5. Serve.

where was my camera when i needed it?!

Like a bad little almost-foodblogger, I forgot to take pictures of the many, many amazing meals that we had in Hawaii. Our exuberance for the food overtook us, and never was there enough time to snap a quick pix before all the morsels had disappeared. We tried everything from crack seed to poke to seaweed musabi. The only thing I could not bring myself to eat was spam. I hate spam.

I could recap every single meal, but for pure laziness sake, I'll leave you with the top three... none of which I have pictures of. Instead, the pictures you see sprinkled throughout are ahi poke with fresh seaweed (Lahaina), baby green salad with a vanilla vinaigrette (Hana Hotel) and pumpkin soup (Hana Hotel).


1. Mama's Fish House (Pa'ia, Maui)

We went for the Sista's birthday on her last night in Hawaii. The beachfront restaurant with it's tiki torch lined walkways is romantic (too bad for us), but while the ambiance is great, the food is even better. The fish is incredibly fresh with the name of the fisherman and the boat on the menu du jour... opah, ono, mahi-mahi, a'u, ahi... all caught the same day. Can you imagine? I love fish... I was in heaven!

The ahi, mahi-mahi and opah panang curry was one of the best curries I've ever had. Rich, but light (how is that even possible?!), accompanied by a banana and mango salsa, it was an amazing blend of asian and Hawaiian flavours.

If only I could find something like Mama's at home.



2. Blue Shrimp and Seafood Co (Honolulu, Oahu)

Street food at it's best. Actually, more truck food than street food. The Blue Shrimp and Seafood Co. is permanently parked in a parking lot just off Kuhio Ave. We went on recommendation from the limo driver that drove us down from Diamond Head Crater when the maternal one refused to walk back to Waikiki.

The sesame encrusted ahi salad was fabulous...a giant piece of nicely grilled ahi (enough for two people!) on top of a greek salad lightly sprinkled with feta. If I hadn't been so full (of ahi and russian snow crab legs), I would have definitely tried to back for seconds!

Hands down for best street food.


3. Tiki's Grill and Bar (Waikiki, Oahu)

Two words... taro bread. Honestly, that pretty much did it for me. The rolls were warm and fluffy, tinged with the slightly purple hue of taro, and tasted heavenly with the banana butter that accompanied it.

Also good was their version of sangria. Who doesn't love pineapple wine? Especially pineapple wine with mango. Yum.

Go there. Better than Duke's.

sweet seduction

I’m late to this bandwagon. I’d been hearing about the Jacob’s Creek Reserve Shiraz since the summer, but wanted to muddle through my existing bottles of red before adding to my growing “collection” of alcoholic bevies.

Silly me.

By the time I was ready it was nowhere to be found. LCBO stores across the province were sold out, what few cases that remained (in Sudbury) were on hold. I tried almost everything to get my grubby little hands on a bottle. I tried all of my various hookups… I even tried namedropping.

Nada.

Finally last weekend, I managed to score two bottles. At $17 a pop, it was one of the best wines I’ve had in a very, very long time (the last one being a gold label Ruffino 1999?? I forget…).

Smokey, spicy, a little blackberry, a wisp of vanilla; there is a recognizable depth to it and smoothness like you wouldn’t believe. Ok. I’m exaggerating. I’m not really a wine connoisseur, but I know what I like. This, I like… a lot.

Go forth and hunt, my friends, go forth and hunt.

where: your local LCBO…

when: next shipment reaches land in about 2 weeks… be patient…

sweet nothings

For as long as I can remember, I've wanted to learn how to blow glass. As children, we'd get dropped off at Harbourfront and left to wander the artist studios for hours upon hours. I loved the burning heat of the glass studio, and was facinated by the way the glassblowers would turn glowing orbs of molten glass into free flowing pieces of suspended whimsy.

Learning how to blow sugar is so much better. Not only does one have a similar ability to create something out of apparently nothing, but it tastes amazing as well.

I came out of the workshop with two scorched thumbs and a whole lot of ambition.

Inspiration has struck, and I know what what I want to do. Now, I only need to go to Home Depot for a blow torch and a heat lamp... and to the grocery store for a whole lotta sugar.

where: Bonnie Gordon sugarworks workshop...

lesson learned

If you leave cupcakes outside on the balcony, make sure you keep an eye out for squirrels, m'kay?

princess buttercup

I used to think that it didn't matter what was inside the cake so long as the outside looked good.

I was so wrong... so very, very wrong...

On the other hand, if you use enough buttercream, you can hide practically anything.

chocolate buttermilk, yellow cake and swiss meringue buttercream

hangover sandwich extraordinaire

If ever in Pittsburgh, definitely make it a point to stop by Primanti Bros for the world's best hangover cure. There's nothing like grilled meat, cheese, fries, coleslaw and a whole lotta goodies slapped between two pieces of soft, chewy Italian bread after a good night of drinking. Washed down with a cold, cold glass of Coke and a couple of Advil's, one almost feels human enough to partake in a marathon Grove City shopping excursion...

My kolbassa and cheese was almost as good as that late night hamburger sandwich from a truck somewhere in Nimes, France - the one we had to go back to the next day and almost missed the train to Paris. And if memory services, I think there were fries in that one, too... trend?

where: market square

chocolate shiraz... part 2...

I make these only because of the intoxicating smell of chocolate and wine that hits me when I open the oven door. It makes my toes tingle.

The cupcakes taste pretty damn good too, but that's just a bonus.

[This time stuffed with whipped cream (easy peesy thanks to my new apple corer), dipped in chocolate ganache, and topped with more whipped cream and a sprinkle of dried cherries...]