Historical Dinners

This week in history marks the 99th anniversary of the sinking of RMS Titanic. For a while the kids have wanted to see the movie, so we thought this would be a good time to make that happen.

 

We got to talking about the event, the girls started to google facts, and before long we had discovered interesting things such as the music played, lists of passengers, and the menus for the first, second and third class.

 

Menus...Hmmm.

 

With a rainy afternoon before us, and Anna at a birthday, Grace and I set to work to recreate a Titanic dinner menu. Now 10 courses seemed a bit over the top, so we scaled back a little. And I took a little liberty with the actual food served on the ship. This is what we made:

 

Titanic Menu

• Roasted Garlic Soup (a Chez Piggy recipe) 
• Mixed greens with chevre and almonds

(This is where the fish course would go - we skipped it. Likewise the sorbet which would be course 4)

• Chicken Lyonaisse with cream sauce
• Lyonaisse Potatoes (Lyonaisse basically means with onions, and was served on Titanic)
• Green Beans Almondine
• Broccoli with cheese sauce
• Victoria Sponge cake (not actually a Titanic dish, but only fashioned and sweet. And delicious. Thanks Nigella Lawson)

(Courses 8, 9 and 10 - we skipped them too. I imagine a cheese course, a sweet pastry course, and no clue what the other would be. Seemed like overkill. We were all stuffed.)

 

And then we sat down rather corpulently, to watch the movie. I should note that we did not have wine with every course as they might have in 1914. We had sherry with our soup, wine with our dinner, and a snifter of brandy with dessert. And the kids had juice.

 

So successful was our historically themed dinner, that the kids are keen to do it again. It struck me that with the date also being the anniversary of Culloden, we could have done that too...but maybe we'll save it for another time.

 

Now I am racking my brains for another event to mark with a feast. History is more fun when you can eat it! If you have any ideas, feel free to pass them along...

Christmas Cookies

The cookies won't bake any faster...

...because you are watching them!

Not even if you give me that slow Grinch smile...

...that always makes me laugh.

The 100 Mile Challenge

As previously mentioned, I am participating this week in the 100 mile challenge. Oh I am no longer living in Creemore where the challenge came from, but saw no reason for that to impede my participation.

Realistically I know the limitations of eating as locally as possible. So for my purposes, I decided that for this week we would focus on eating dinner from ingredients that were sourced as locally as possible. I even scoured the LCBO for two bottles of wine from nearby Prince Edward County, although I know there are wineries closer.

And then I planned my menu for the week.

Saturday: Hamburgers & Potato Thyme Salad - our beef, home made buns, farmer market tomatoes, and  lettuce, baby red potatoes and thyme all from the garden. Glazed Peach Pie - farmer's market peaches, homemade crust.

Sunday: Sausages and mashed potato with Carrots - sausages from local butcher (who buys local meat), potatoes and carrots from the garden. Peach Raspberry Pie - using farmer's market peaches and frozen raspberries we picked ourselves in July.
OOPS - we also had nachos and homemade guac - none of which was local.

Monday: Caesar Salad - all garden fresh ingredients for salad, and local bacon. Can't vouch for where the anchovy paste, parmesan, red wine vinegar and mayo came from for the dressing; Chicken kabobs - from our local butcher.

Tuesday: Grilled Rosemary Lamb Chops and wilted spinach salad - home grown lamb, garden herbs, garlic and spinach, farmers market red onion and grocery store Feta.

Wednesday: Beef on a bun - our prime beef, garden onions, homemade (bread machine, anyway) bread; garden cabbage and garden green salad.

Thursday: Quiche - fresh local eggs, local artisanal cheese, bacon from the local butcher, served with a pasta salad with cherry tomatoes, grated cheese, and fresh basil.

Friday: Going to the Williamstown Fair - have no idea what scrumptious local food we will find there.

And thus ends my 100 mile week. It's easy and yet - at the same time - not as easy as it sounds.

Mussels

Tonight, under cover of darkness, I went out to the garden with my Lee Valley pitchfork and dug up a big bulb of fresh garlic.

I admit it felt a little witchy to be digging up herbs in moonlight, but that just added to the charm of it all.

And it was worth it. Andrew brought fresh mussels home after soccer and cooked them in wine and garlic. We ate them at 10 pm, Erik slipping down to join us in our nocturnal mussel feast.

A little tast of the East Coast.

And the last I will have, for a week at least, as we embark on our 100-mile challenge. As of Saturday, we will be watching how far our food travels to get to our table. Inspired by my friend Jackie in Creemore Ontario, I'll be keeping tabs here and on facebook as to how we make out. We no longer live in Creemore, but there's no reason we can't support  and participate from afar.

Sadly, mussels will not make the list.

But wine doesn't count, right Jackie? Right?

Strawberry-Rhubarb Pie

If there's one thing we all agree on in this family it's that fruit pie rocks. Some of us prefer apple, others peach, others fresh raspberry. But when the strawberries are ripe at the same time as the rhubarb, there's really only one kind of pie.

Erik is the pie lover of the family. Any pie. All pie. I've seen him happily polish off most of a fresh pie without even blinking. With ice cream. His favourite is Cherry, which we rarely have because he and Grampa are the only two who really like it. But actually, all of them are okay in his books. I joke that I could put cardboard in pastry and he'd eat it, an assertion he denies vehemently.

But since he likes pie so much, I thought he should learn to make it. Today was lesson one. I made the pastry, he made the filling.

It was delicious.

Denise & Julia

I can't believe I am doing this: opening an excellent bottle of French Bordeaux on a Sunday afternoon so that I can COOK with it.

It started a few weeks ago when I had the house to myself one weekend and settled in to watch Julie and Julia. When a thunder storm and torrential rain drove the menfolk back home (Anna toughed it out - said it was like sleeping in a river), Andrew watched the movie with me, and afterwards declared that the one thing he'd love to try in the entire world was Julia Child's recipe for Boeuf Bourguignon.

But I already make a (very good) Boeuf Bourguignon, I said in mild astonishment.

But Julia Child's is supposed to be the best ever, he replied.

Well okay then.

And so it is on this sweltering June afternoon, I am browning beef and following to the T Julia's recipe. (Which I might add uses more dishes than mine does, which will mean more cleaning up later). And though my wine rack is creaking under the shiraz and cab and malbec selections I have, there is no french Bourdeaux. Not even a Burgundy or a Beaujolais which I could justify substituting. Just this single bottle I have been saving.

It is inevitable. I open this fine wine while I wait for exactly four minutes for the flour to "brown and cover the meat with a thin crust" in the oven. And I will pour three cups of this wine into the beef and put it back into the oven for three hours.

But first I take a small glass myself. And it is delicious.

Reminding myself that I can always buy more wine, I reluctantly add the rest of the bottle to the casserole dish.

Father's Day, after all, only happens once a year.

(Let's be honest. I add most of the rest of the bottle - reserving a amount conveniently glass-sized that I will drink later).

Happy Father's Day, Honey.

UPDATE: For all those of you who have been asking, yes, it was worth it. I can't decide if it was better than my usual recipe because of the recipe, or because I followed steps and took no shortcuts, or because I used better wine. But it had a divine flaviour and the meat literally melted in your mouth.

24 Glasses

There were 24 empty wine glasses on my dining room table on Saturday night. 24 wine glasses for six of us to taste test four bottles of Shiraz ranging from a bottle I had on my wine rack (around $14) to a higher end $100 bottle.

For the most part, I know I can tell the difference between a $8 and $12 bottle of wine. If I'm really feeling like splurging, my favourite wine is a $17 Wolf Blass, but I usually buy wine around the $10-12 range. But I have long wanted to know if I could tell the difference between a $14 wine and a $50 or $100 bottle. And would it be worth it?

A casual mention around a campfire spurred a friend of mine into action and we rounded up a taste-testing party of people who would be willing participants in our experiment.

Truthfully, it wasn't difficult to find volunteers.

Andrew stuck to beer and scotch so he was Master of Ceremonies, delivering us a glass of each to taste and swirl and discuss over bread and local cheese (from Glengarry Fine Cheese).

Some of the party are true conoisseurs. Talk of lingering aroma of cherry, and aftertaste of dark chocolate, fruity undertones, and base notes. I just know what I like. But we all in the end were able to agree. The first wine was the best. I described it as friendly. The second was the worst. The third was lovely, but it took a while to grow on us and it wasn't until after dinner that we agreed it was a close second. The fourth was generally agreed to be good as well.

And when the labels on the four Shiraz bottles (all Australian, I should add) were uncovered:

#1: Two Hands - Samantha's Gate 2008 Clare Valley (South Australia) $56

#2: The Octavius - Yalumba 2004, Australia $100

#3: Red Belly Black - Angove's 2007, South Australia $15 (any local liquor store - my regular quaffing Shiraz)

#4: Pillar Box Reserve - Padthaway 2007, Australia $22

Personally, I was jsut thankful that the $100 bottle wasn't my favourite - weekends would have become a whole lot more expensive!

A Drizzle Of Olive Oil

Let's face facts. Life sometimes goes pretty fast. There are parties to plan, bikes to ride, dinners to cook, books to read, calls to make, blogs to update...and that's just the fun stuff.

It can be hard sometimes to remember to slow down, to take pleasure in the moment.

But with the help of a bottle of olive oil, it's a lesson I remembered the other day.

It was the middle of the week, that time in between weekends when everything is in motion, when it can sometimes seem that one mis-step will have major repercussions on the subtle balance of the household (though I hasten to add it isn't actually true: we're a family not a covert military operation, and nothing is that important - it just seems that way).

I was making a quick salad to go with the banquet burgers we were having for dinner. And I was making salad dressing. With my new bottle of good olive oil at the ready, I made to mix up the ingredients. I turned the bottle of oil upside down and watched as it drizzled, slowly, out. Slooooowly.

My first thought, I admit, was I don't have time for this. We had a guest arriving, homework to finish, and a pile of laundry sat waiting to be folded.

Squeezing the glass bottle was futile - yes, I tried - so I had no option but to stand there and wait.

And something wonderful happened. I watched the oil drizzle slooooowly out into the cup, and I felt my shoulders relax, the world slow down, and the kitchen become suffused with peace and tranquility.

The only thing that mattered right then in that moment was the golden olive oil, the smell of garlic, the roasting cashews, the sunbeam that floated through the window bathing the red tiles in rich colour. Time stood still.

And it felt good.

Mouth Watering

My mouth is watering. Partly because I forgot to eat lunch (so busy and excited was I about completing the final stages of the marketing project I am doing) but partly because there has been a shift to the season.

It's still winter, and I've lived here long enough to know we can still expect more snow yet. But the mornings brighten earlier, dusk falls later, and there is a definite springiness to the world.

I'm a compulsive menu planner, always planning two weeks ahead and fitting in new recipes among the tried and true we all love. And menu plans, like the seasons, have a natural flow to them. Summer grills yield gracefully to the soups and harvest fare of fall, which in turn gives way to the hearty casseroles and slow-cooked meals of winter.

This spring-like shift in season speaks to me of a new food palatte. Lighter, greener, more delicate, like the spring snowdrops which will be popping up in the next month or so. And I've started to think about lightening the menu a little, switching it up. I've been tossing around some ideas, such as:

• Taking out Chicken Pot Pie and replacing it with Chicken Crepes in Chardonnay Sauce;
• Switching Cream of Cauliflower and Cheddar Soup with Cream of Asparagus with Parmesan or (heaven) Fiddlehead Soup drizzled with creme fraiche and pepper;
• Taking the Salmon en croute out of its pastry crust and serving it sauteed and herbed on a bed of minted peas;
• Swapping decadent chocolate brownies for a light cream cheesecake topped with lemon and blueberries (a recipe stolen shamelessly from Chez Piggy in Kingston).

I have to go now before I drool over the computer.

Food for a Winter's Afternoon

A friend of mind posted a recipe on her blog for heartwarming vegetarian fare she called  Gypsy Soup. This ancient secret family recipe, she claimed, was too good not to share.

Even reading the recipe made my mouth start to water. It sounded like a perfect soup for a cold day, and before I knew it I was envisioning a clear wintry afternoon and a snowshoe hike along the sheltered line of trees that runs the length of the river.

In a split second, my mind's eye captured every moment of that afternoon - the lingering scent of pine, the crunch of snow, and the return to a fire-warmed kitchen filled with the wafting smells of  tumeric and sweet basil. Ladeling soup into pottery bowls and eating it at the golden pine table as daylight fades to long blue shadows outside the french doors, and the music of Aviva Chernik fills the house.

It made me stop and reflect on the nature of food in our lives. How food at it's most basic may just be something to sustain us, but taken further is something that nourishes not just body, but spirit as well. It's too easy on hurried days to put food on the table without much thought, and eat with even less, our mind on getting out the door to Cubs or a book club meeting. But with just a little bit of reflection, it can be so much more.

Incredibly Drunk On Whiskey

Then you looked at me
Pointed out that I was drunk on whiskey
You looked at me
Said, “let's get incredibly drunk on whiskey"...

This is the catchy chorus of a great song I've heard a couple of times on CBC radio 2 by (Canadian) band Memphis. Can't make head or tails of what the rest of the song means, but it's the kind of tune that sticks in your head.

I don't drink scotch. I leave that to Andrew who enjoys a glass or two of single malt, and who has been known, particularly in the company of my brother-in-law Stephen, to indulge in more than just a glass or two while my sister and I responsibly sip quaff wine.

I don't drink it, I said. But I love scotch. At least I love the smell of it. I don't say this lightly - in all honesty, I would rather sniff a good quality single malt scotch  (such as The Macallan 15 year, pictured here) all evening than drink a glass of cheap wine. It makes me feel light headed, and pleasantly disposed towards the universe.

So I'm wondering what it would be like to have the chance to sniff a glass of the 55 year old Macallan I was reading about? At a (mere) $14,000 a bottle, I don't think I'm ever going to find out!

Chocolate Book Club

As I've mentioned before, our book club is a bit unorthodox. we don't always, for example, talk about books, though we always have a book or two we are all supposed to have read and for which we are, ostensibly, meeting.

And this month was no exception. However, in our defense, we were distracted by a good cause.

This. (Cake 3)                                     

And this. (Cake 2)

And oh yum, this. (Cake 1)

It was Melissa's birthday so she got to do the blind taste test, fork-fed by Yasmin.

Cake 1 was "light, fluffy, a bit Duncan Hines-y." Definitely looked the best though with a smooth glaze and sweet peas cascading down the side.

Cake 2 was "dark, dense, chocolately - and I can taste the sparkles on the top."

Cake 3 had "the best combination of cake and filling and icing."

The verdict: Cake 2 (by Yasmine) was the winner, followed very closely by Cake 3 (by yours truly).

Cake 1 (Becky, in the midst of moving house, purchased this one from a quality baker) didn't fare so well.

Having said that, chocolate is always good, and we were happy to enjoy a piece of each, and take the rest home to grateful families.

Happy birthday, Melissa.

(Sorry, what book did we discuss again?)                                                       

Harvest Time

We all get to help out this time of year.

Potatoes, corn, tomatoes, chard, spinach, broccoli, carrots, garlic, onions.

It all has to be brought in and stored.

And then eaten. The best part.

This Old House

The women who used to live in our house 20 years ago (10 sisters and 4 brothers) showed up today. Andrew found them at the end of the laneway taking pictures of the parts of the house they could see from half a mile away behind the forest that is our driveway, and he invited them up to the house to take a closer look.

-

They were visiting from Alberta, and Andrew - home sick today - said that when they saw my flower garden on the east side of the house, they collectively burst into tears.

This is the garden our mother always wanted, the weeping women told a rather uncomfortable Andrew. She could never get flowers to grow here, and she'd have loved this.

Obviously discomoded by this display of emotion, Andrew let them into the house to see the massive stone fireplace hearth that we just finished restoring. More tears of joy.

And the kitchen...!

If our mother were alive, she'd be so happy to see this, they told Andrew.

Which made him feel pretty good as he did most of the work.

It was an emotional visit for them, as nostagic trips are wont to be. And when I got home I was happy that they'd seen it, and oddly happy that it would please some long dead woman that I have never met.

But underlying all of that was one thought running relentlessly through my head...14 children! Here? And I stopped feeling so guilty that Anna and Grace still share a room.

Farm Fashion

We dress up for dinner around here.

Sort of.

Grace, our resident photographer, got me snipping scapes in the far back garden to frizzle for Father's Day dinner.

Notice the tailored shirt.
Notice the skirt.

Notice the delicate shoes.

Wait a sec - are those wellington boots?

Personally, I thing wellies add an air of je ne sais quo to any occassion.

Side Note: What I noticed about these pictures is how overgrown the hop yard behind looks. I guess that is why it is the far back garden, where we plant all the unsightly stuff like potatoes, hops, garlic, and corn. I don't usually spend much time looking at it, but now that I have I feel an urge to weed it.

Secret Ingredient

I make banana bread (or muffins) about once a month or so - using up a pile of over-ripe banana's that the kids refuse to touch. That roughly equates to a dozen or more loaves a year times 8 or 9 years - for the sake of argument let's say I've made around 100 loaves.

So how come I've only just discovered the secret ingredient that takes it that one step futher up the yummy scale?

With thanks to Nigella Lawson, I have to say that the addition of rum-soaked raisins adds a whole level of sophistication to the humble Banana Bread.

The recipe couldn't be easier.

Simply bring 1/4 cup rum to a boil; add raisins and simmer 10 mins; remove from heat and let sit until they have absorbed most of the liquid. Add to your favourite Banana Bread Recipe.

Delicious.

Little Chef

Anna likes to cook. She calls herself Little Chef and is a whiz at whipping up spaghetti (as in the picture), other kinds of pasta, cupcakes, and gravy. She even invented her own drink - a warm sugar infused strawberry confection that she makes for special occasions.

Of course, I encourage all of this. With all the kids, not just Anna - although she has the most interest right now.

Shouldn't we be starting dinner, she'll ask. I'll get my cook book.

That was how I discovered where my Joy of Cooking had gone - Anna had put it in on her reading shelf.

She'll sit at the kitchen table, leafing through recipes.

She convinces her brother and sister to try things I'd never expect them to agree to.

She makes recommendations to her siblings based on a secret ratio of randomness, uniqueness, and how cool the name sounds, and then they write down the key ingredients on my grocery list.

We had roast duck one weekend.

Lamb curry another.

But much as I admire her willingness to try new things, the line must be drawn somewhere.

Let's have Osso Bucca, she called out yesterday, her finger resting on the appropriate page of the Joy.

Um, sorry honey, we don't have any marrow bones.

She looks pensive. Okay then, let's have...

There is a pause. I imagine her filing through a list of incredible recipe ideas in her head.

Hot dogs! she proclaims with joy.

Hot dogs we can do.

Salmon in Beurre Blanc

The Just Be dinner party

Potatoes
Wrap a head of garlic in foil and pop into a 400 celsius oven, along with medium, scrubbed, baking potatoes. Remove garlic after 40 mins and let cool. Leave potatoes for 20 more minutes or until cooked.

Slice off potato tops and scoop out centres. Squeeze roasted garlic into potato and mash with butter or sour cream, 1/4 c grated cheddar, some dijon, and spoon back into potato shells. Grate cheese on top and bake an additional 15 minutes or until heated through.

Beurre Blanc
Take 1/4 c dry white wine and 1/4 c white wine vinegar. Add finely minced shallots and bring to boil over high heat. Simmer until reduced by half (about 6 minutes). Add 3-4 tbsp whipped cream, and whisk in 4-8 tbsp butter 1tbsp at a time, until smooth and velvety. (Do not let boil - it should be the consistency of a creamy hollandaisse sauce.). Add a couple of drops of fresh lemon juice and salt and pepper to taste.

Salmon
Season salmon fillets if desired. Poach in white wine and garlic until flaky. (I like to poach and then crisp the outside in a fry pan).

Serve salmon with beurre blanc, vegetable of choice, and potato.

Why I Love Thursday!

All week it's Go Go Go.

But on Thursday, there's one thing I don't have to do...

This is the view of the inside of my oven. I have just walked in the door, and dinner is already done.

I love to cook - but have to admit it's nice sometimes to come home and have nothing to do but fall into an armchair with a cup of tea.

Farm Fries

1. Scrub potatoes and slice thickly . Cut into wedges.
2. Toss with some oil.
3. Sprinkle with Chicken Stock mix/cube
4. Bake 350 degrees for 30-40 mins, flipping over occasionally.

*Note: When I make these, I skip the chicken stock mix/cube, and instead add rosemary or thyme to the oil before tossing the potatoes. It seems healthier, but the stock mix is addictively good, especially if you follow a belgium tradition and dip the fries in mayo. Mmm. (Warning: This method is not recommended for health nuts, dieters or people with high cholesterol)

Works For Me: Three Minutes to Peace

Trying something new - a blog carnival. Check out the link...Works For Me Wednesday

Three Minutes to Peace

I’m sure you’ve been there. You walk into the kitchen and lay down the mail on the table next to your purse while you pop the kettle on. The kids come in dropping book bags and rummaging through their agenda for a mountain of paperwork for you to read and sign. They plunk it on the table and spread out their books for homework. You sit with your tea and make a grocery list while your youngest draws 200 pictures of purple cats. Before you know it, the kitchen table has vanished, leaving only a pile of paper. This happens to us all the time. And as we eat at the kitchen table most nights, I’m just glad we have a 6 foot long solid pine table and, in an emergency, can just plough everything down to one end and still have enough room for two adults and three children to sit and eat.

Emergencies are one thing. But if there is one thing I have learned through trial and error it’s that a cleared kitchen table and uncluttered counters can change your day, maybe even your life.

Now I can almost hear those eyes rolling, but the kitchen is the centre of a home, and a sense of order in the centre radiates outwards. The kitchen is the first room I see when I come down the stairs in the morning to get coffee, and again when I walk through the back door at the end of the day. Coming downstairs or home at night to be met by a pile of dishes on the counter and a table containing magazines, discarded mail, and the contents of someone’s pockets (no names, darling) causes stress – the mild kind you can’t put a finger on but that builds up and makes you feel fidgety and overwhelmed. Whereas, when the kitchen is relatively clean and clear, life feels more peaceful and this has a calming effect on the whole family (because if mom’s not happy….you know the rest). I’m not talking shining-spotless-not-a-crumb-on-the-floor kind of clean – just generally clean, in order and tidy.

It takes me three minutes twice a day:
- 1 minute to clear away the accumulated paperwork and general debris (even if it’s just to put them in a bin in a closet to deal with later);
- 1 minute to wipe down the table and counters (I keep a spray bottle of vinegar & water and a cloth under the sink); and
- 1 minute to sweep the floor.

It’s habit for me now. Even though we have to be breakfasted and out the door by 7:30 each morning, those three minutes are somehow found. And after lunches are packed and dishes put away at the end of the day, I take another three minutes. Even the sitter who comes in sometimes knows the secret. And when my husband is home for the day, he knows too. So whenever I walk through the door, the kitchen awaits, clean and tidy and serene. Organized.

And seriously, it makes everything else in your life much easier to deal with.