I can’t even pretend to play favorites where cheese is concerned, because I like it soft and I like it hard.  I like it creamy and sweet but I like it salty and soulful.  Rich cheese, soft cheese, any cheese really, and I am smitten.  Some of my favorites, however, are the blues.  I have a running theory that when Picasso went through his blue period it was actually due to a glut of Spanish Valdeon into France. Historians may disagree, but what do they know anyway?  Saint Agur (which I used for this recipe), Cambezola, Bleu de Bresse, Roquefort, Gorgonzola and Dolcelatte are but to name a few of the ones I keen for on a rainy night when I’m sitting alone with a box of crackers and some time on my hands.  It is also possible that sometimes I eat the blue cheese standing, swaying from side to side and murmuring in a most un-musical way, “Blu-ue cheese….you saw me standing a-lone….without a dream in my heart……without a cheese of my own….”

Do you ever get into a bit of a rut where you’re fixated on a certain combination of flavors for months on end?  For me, last year I went through my cocoa & chili, lavendar & lemon, orange & fennel, and pomegranate & cumin phases…none of which I am entirely out of.  They were, however, joined by the blue cheese and fruit cravings.  Poached apricots stuffed with blue cheese and wrapped with prosciutto?  Yes please!  Farro salad with blue cheese and cranberry? Well, if I must.  My latest iteration of this frenzy is adding blue cheese and baked goods that walk the line between sweet and savory, and this blue cheese, apricot and pecan bread is one of them.

Bread making is a bit of a passion of mine.  Although for ‘regular use’ I usually use a quick rise dough (‘quick’ in the greater scheme of things, of course), I am no stranger to the starter, poolish or cultured breads that are long-worthy.  I may not talk about them very often, but that’s because I know that for many people the thought of waiting a few hours to finish your baking can be a stretch, let alone waiting a few days.  For that reason alone, active dry yeast and a same-day breads are usually what wend their way onto this site.

This bread is a ‘boule’, which simply means ’round bread’.  Or maybe just ’round’.  I don’t know, I dropped French in high school.  The point is that this is a rustic looking loaf with a nicely thick, crispy crust surrounding a moist and soft interior.  Just like me.  No wonder I think bread is so beautiful.

Blue Cheese, Apricot and Pecan Boule

Makes 1 loaf

• 2 tsp active dried yeast
• 2 tbsp brown sugar
• 1 cup warm milk
• 1/2 cup warm water
• 1 tbsp kosher salt *
• 3.75 – 4 cups all purpose flour
• 1 cup pecan pieces
• 3/4 dried apricot
• 175 g (6 oz) blue cheese **

* If you use a blue which is on the salty side you might want to consider scaling this amount back.

** Although I used Saint Agur, any of your favorite blue cheeses will do.  Remember that it’s just going to melt into the bread anyway, so even a blue which is firm as opposed to creamy will be a fine bet.

Stir together the yeast, brown sugar, milk and water in a large mixing bowl.  Be sure that the liquids are just warm and not hot (you should be able to submerge your pinky into them comfortably for at least 10 seconds) because if they’re too hot then you’ll kill off the yeast.

Wait for a few minutes until the yeast starts to foam and bubble just a bit because then you can be sure that it is active and get on with the rest of the recipe.  If your yeast has not started to spawn after 10 minutes, give up and throw it to the hogs.  You’ll have to start again with a new yeast that you know is fresh.

Add the salt and 3.75 cups of flour.  Stir the mixture until it starts to come together and then gently knead it until it is a solid mass.  The dough should be moist but not overly sticky.  If it is sticky, add the additional flour a tablespoon at a time until you feel comfortable kneading it out.  The dough will dry out slightly as you knead it, but if it is sticking to your hands then you can’t count on that being enough.

Turn the rough dough out onto a surface which has been just lightly dusted with flour.

Knead the dough for 5-7 minutes until it is smooth and elastic. When your dough is at the ‘baby’s bum’ stage, pat it out into a rectangle as best you can and set it aside.

Roughly chop the pecans and dice the apricots into chunks about 1/4″ square.

When the dough has rested for at least 5 minutes, pat it out again into a fairly large rectangle.  Sprinkle the apricots and pecans over top and press the pieces into the dough until some are almost immersed.  Crumble the blue cheese evenly over top.

Carefully roll the dough up into a tube along the long side.  Stretch and press the dough as you go along to make sure that all the filling is contained. Pinch the seam and ends of the cylinder to seal it.

Turn the ends in towards the center and press them down into one another.  The reason that we’re doing this is that we want the filling to be interspersed through the dough, and folding the dough also encourages a good rise.

Turn the dough and gently pat and stretch the outside until you can pass it back and forth in your hands like a smooth-ish basketball.

Lightly oil a large bowl and turn the dough ball around in it until it is covered in a thin film.  Place a clean dish towel over top and set it aside in a warm, draft free spot to rise for at least an hour or up to 3.  You know that you’re ready when the dough has roughly doubled in size.

Throw the dough (literally, because you want to knock the air out of it) onto a lightly floured work surface.  Okay, maybe more than ‘lightly floured’.  You want to punch down the dough and then pack it back into a round shape without adding any extra flour if you can help it, but then roll the dough ball through a bit of flour until it is coated….if you want. You don’t have to, I just think it’s all purty-like, and I’m a sucker for a pretty ball of dough.

Using a short, sharp knife, cut a few slashes into the top. Or an ‘X’.  Or a skull and crossbones with a sign saying, “KEEP OUT! NOT YOUR BREAD!”  It doesn’t really matter, but do cut something because again it will help the rise (but in the oven this time) and look awfully comely when all is said and done.

Place the prepared ball onto a baking sheet lined with parchment paper (nobody ever died from being too careful when it came to baked on cheese) and cover it again with a tea towel.  Let the bread rise for at least 45 minutes, or until it has increased in size by about 50%.

While the dough is rising, move your oven rack down into the lower third and preheat it to 400ºF.

Bake the bread for 32-40 minutes, or until the top is a roasty-toasty rich dark brown.  When you turn the dough over and rap lightly on the bottom it should sound dense but still hollow.

I like to think that if a baker mated with Wolverine (and by ‘a baker’ I mean me.  By ‘Wolverine’, obviously, I mean Hugh Jackman) I like to think that this is what they would produce after they drank themselves silly on chardonnay.

Let the bread cool before cutting into it.  After 30 minutes it will likely still be warm enough to gently melt a thin slather of soft butter, and that sounds just about perfect to me.

This loaf is slightly dense and chewy but deliciously soft, spiked throughout with sweet apricots, earthy and buttery pecans, and veins of rich, aromatic blue cheese running throughout.

As good with a cup of coffee as a glass of slightly sweet chardonnay or dry merlot, this bread has wine and cheese party written all over it.  Or, if you’re in my house, it also has breakfast, lunch and snack written all over it too.

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Within a week I was determined to get back on that goat and ride it into cheese-dom, the only question was….well, how?  Trial and error has taught me what NOT to do, but techniques for making perfect, creamy goat cheese still eluded me. People were kind enough to write in many suggestions, some of which I had tried in the past and others which were just not possible.  For example, a rule of thumb for success seems to be using fresh, unpasteurized goat milk straight from the farmer’s bucket.   This is problematic, because raw and unpasteurized milk or milk products are prohibited for sale in Canada.  Other people nudged me towards some of their favorite purveyors of cheese making supplies, but I didn’t want to have to rely on fancy enzymes, cultures and chemicals.  I wanted to know how to make goat cheese with the goat milk I was able to buy in Ontario, and using equipment, tools, and ingredients that were readily available.  This was proving to be frustrating, to say the least.

At that point, I got a message from one of our fabulous readers (who I am dying to meet, especially after receiving a sample of her ToDieFor venison sausage earlier this year).  She’s a hilariously charming, bright, hellcat of a woman, and every now and then we start Twittering to each other about cheese I just can’t stop.  Let me tell you, this girl knows her cheese. In fact, she hails from a history of cheese, considering that her father was a cheese-maker for one of Ontario’s more pride-worthy companies.  She brought my query to her father, and the advice I got was direct, succinct, and usable:

First off, he said you’ll never be able to get a true creamy goat cheese unless you add stabilizers. He also said not to boil the milk, as that denatures the proteins.

Heat the milk to 161ºF and hold it there for 16 seconds. Immediately cool to 90ºF. Add about 1 tablespoon of plain yogurt and return to 90ºF for a bit. Remove from heat and allow it to coagulate, which could take 12-14 hours. Strain through cheesecloth.

So that’s what I did.  When I started this process, I was pretty clear about my goals.  I wanted:

Perfect Goat Cheese

• creamy
• tangy
• rich
• snowy white
• spreadable

…..and this time, what I got:

• creamy
• tangy
• rich
• snowy white
• spreadable

I’m telling you, there are certain people that everyone should make friends with.   I have always held firm that your nearest and dearest should always include an electrician, plumber, farmer/gardener, lawyer, teacher, artist, carpenter and medical doctor. However, I am now certain that I need to add cheese-maker to that list.  Preferably soon.  If there are any cheese makers out there who are dying to be ‘besties’ with a slightly histrionic and indiscriminate woman in Ontario, let me know.  The friendship deli is open for business.

Goat Cheese: How To Avoid Humiliating Failure

Have on hand:

• 2L fresh goat milk (preferably 3.25% m.f. or higher)
• 2 tbsp yogurt with active bacterial culture *
• 1.5′ x 1.5′ square clean chemical free muslin or cotton
• large colander
• twine

* I used a yogurt made from goat milk, but a cow milk yogurt with active cultures is fine.

I am capable of following instructions (once in a while), so in a clean and sterilized pot I heated up the goat milk to a temperature of 161ºF, stirring it regularly so that it did not scald on the bottom of the pot.    I held it at that temperature for about 30 seconds instead of 16 (I get distracted easily) and then took it off the heat.  The temperature almost immediately started to drop.

Considering how quickly the temperature of the milk started to drop, I felt optimistic about the next steps, more than willing to wait 5-7 minutes for the temperature to drop to 90ºF. Sadly, those minutes came and went.  Still, I waited.

And waited.

After about 20-25 minutes the temperature was at 92ºF, which I like to think of as “Close Enough Accounting”.  I ladled a spoonful of the warm milk into a small bowl and whisked in the yogurt.  This mixture was then poured back into the rest of the milk and stirred to combine.

The next step was to allow that small amount of active bacterial culture from the yogurt to act on and stabilize the milk.  Exactly the same as if we were making homemade yogurt, a tight fitting lid was placed on the pot before it was wrapped in towels and placed in a warm and draft free spot to rest for about 12 hours.

After resting, the milk had “set” but it was still much looser than I was used to for yogurt.  Perhaps this was due to a weaker and more submissive bacterial culture from the goat yogurt, but either way it still had some body.

I lined a clean and sterilized colander with a swath of thin cotton.  My cotton was harvested from an ancient white sheet which was clean, rinsed and left to air dry before use.  You could easily use 3 layers of cheesecloth  to line the drainage, but muslin or cotton are easier to scrape and clean.

The mixture was poured into the large colander set over a large mixing bowl (or in the sink) to begin draining.

An exceptional amount of liquid will leech from the mixture as it drains, so if you are doing this in a bowl be sure to discard the water before it creeps up to high and licks the bottom of your bag.

After 4-6 hours, the volume should have decreased by 20-30%.  Carefully gather up the cloth into a little purse and tie it tightly with twine.  Leave the ends on your twine quite long so that you can use them to hang the bag.

When you’re aging any dairy or meat product, you want to make sure that you’re doing it in a relatively dry, temperature controlled environment with adequate air circulation. As far as air circulation goes, that doesn’t mean that your best bet is to leave it outside and free to the elements, but rather that you don’t want the bag to be propped up against anything or snuggled into a corner. You also don’t want it too hot, which will build bad bacteria, and you don’t want it too cold because the cultures will not have an opportunity to grow.

Our house has erratic temperatures as well as two curious cats, so the best place for me is inside a cold oven.  I simply moved one rack up to the highest position and tied the bag so that it was hanging down.  A large bowl was placed in the bottom of the oven under the sack to catch the drips.

After 12 hours of draining, I eagerly unwrapped the goat cheese.  Around the exterior the goat cheese had firmed up, but the inside of the bag was still a bit loose, more like a labneh (yogurt cheese) than goat cheese.  A quick taste also revealed that the flavor was very mild and creamy, but didn’t have that evocative tang reminiscent of goat cheese.

After scraping down the sides of the cloth I mashed and mixed everything back up to a uniform consistency, tied the bag back nice and tight and left it to hang for another 12 hours.

After years of having food safety hammered at us from all ends, it is understandable to feel a bit squeamish about leaving dairy products outside of the refrigerator for almost two days.  Look, I get that, and as the person who shrieks to see someone stick a mustard crusted spoon into the mayonnaise jar, I empathize with your discomfort.   All sorts of things could grow or change in the milk during that time, right?

Well….yes.  That’s exactly right, and that’s what we want.  Cheese doesn’t make itself, you know.  It’s a careful process of fermentation and bacterial growth that actively works to alter the taste, texture, and composition of dairy. So, hey, fermentation is pretty delicious, huh?

After the stirred cheese had been rehung for about 12-15 hours, I unwrapped the final bundle.

This was goat cheese in all it’s glory.  The creamy cheese clung together in a tight ball, but was still easily coaxed away to be smoothed creamily onto a whole grain cracker. The additional hanging time also enhanced the flavor of the cheese, lending it a richer, tangier flavor which was unmistakably that of a goat cheese. The color was a pure, virginal white, and there wasn’t a grainy, crumbly or granular bit to be had.

My one concern is that I kept doubting myself.  Was this really goat cheese? Because technique would indicate that it’s more like goat-labneh, or a strained goat yogurt than a soft cheese. However, then I nibbled on a wee little spoonful, swiped a fresh cherry across the top, and slathered it on yet another cracker, before realizing that I don’t care.  If it looks like goat cheese and it tastes like goat cheese, I’m not going to kick it out of bed in the morning.

Verdict:  Goat Cheese – WIN!!!!

I’m like the King Solomon of dairy.  If I could have 700 cheese in my kitchen at any given time, and another 300 in line, just waiting to be taken and enjoyed, I would die fat(ter) and happy.  Goat cheeses are no exception to this.  I like a smooth, creamy, spreadable goat cheese like this one, the texture of which was similar to cream cheese.  However, I also get all weak-kneed for a firmer goat cheese that can be sliced into logs (before getting dredged in ground nuts and broiled, of course).  If you want your goat cheese firmer, let it hang for a longer period of time, however you may want to put it in the fridge to finish hanging just in case any household spores were getting funny ideas.

What a glorious thing it is to make your own cheese!  Soft, unripened cheeses are so easily yours when you have a good guideline to follow, take proper care of hygiene and sterility where necessary, and have just a little bit of hope and patience in your bag of tricks.  Don’t be afraid to experiment, because if I’ve learned anything it’s that the worst that can happen is a spoiled 2 liters of milk….and that’s certainly not worth crying over.Similar Posts:

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Za’atar is a Middle Eastern spice blend that normally contains dried herbs, toasted sesame seeds and salt.  Za’atar (aka zataar, zat’r, zahtar, etc) is like Garam Masala in the way that the blend changes according to who mixed it and which area it is from.  My favorite is Lebanese za’atar which normally contains marjoram, oregano, thyme, cumin, coriander, toasted sesame seeds, salt, and sumac.  Sumac is a rich blackish maroon color and has a tangy, almost lemony taste.  Sumac it is also what gives Lebanese za’atar the distinctive dark color, as opposed to other regional blends (such as Jordanian or Armenian) which range in color from a greenish ochre down to a fawn brown or russet brown .  The spice blend can be sprinkled on flatbread before it gets baked , added to labneh (yoghurt cheese), used as a condiment to sprinkle on top of cooked food, or mixed with olive oil and used as a dip for breads or meat.

Although za’atar may be intimidatingly exotic to some, to your average Middle Easterner it is the equivalent of Spanish pimenton, Moroccan ras el hanout, Pakistani green chili, Slavic vegeta, or North American pre-packaged Mrs. Dash (don’t hate me, because you know it’s true).  With it’s rich, earthy, herbal and slightly sour base, za’atar can be a bit of an acquired taste.

I suggest that you acquire it.

I got trained early on.  When I was growing up, my breakfast often looked like this:

That is za’atar manakeesh, a flatbread which has been rubbed with oil and sprinkled with za’atar before it gets baked.  My other breakfast favorite was thin Lebanese style pita bread slathered with homemade labneh, fresh cucumber slices, and a generous sprinkling of za’atar. It may be a bit of a stretch to ask you to try this for breakfast instead of your Raisin Bran, but it certainly does pique the taste buds and bring a new appetite to your day.

With a breakfast like that, it should not surprise you that for lunch I wouldn’t turn down a flatbread and chopped salad that looks like this:

…an afternoon snack of spinach dip and homemade spice crackers that look like this:

….nor that for dinner I salivate over the thought of succulent roast chicken that looks like this:

Sure, it might look ‘dirty’ to you, but luckily I know that ‘dirty’ translates in spice-speak into ‘DELICIOUS’!

If you happen to have a little baggie of za’atar in your spice rack that is just begging to be used, or if you’ve always wandered by the Middle Eastern grocery store and hankered to try some of the intoxicating spice blends that are sold in bulk, I can give you a hundred different ways to use this addictive and tasty spice blend.  But for today, let’s make our vegan audience happy and share a recipe for Middle Eastern inspired (because dudes, Lebanon is NOT known for their tofu consumption) tofu, marinated in a mixture of sweet and tangy pomegranate molasses, za’atar and garlic.

Pomegranate and Za’atar Tofu Kebabs

Serves 4, with side dishes

• 1 package (12 oz, 350 g) extra firm tofu *
• 3 tbsp + 1 olive oil
• 2 tbsp za’atar spice blend *
• 2 cloves garlic
• 1 tbsp pomegranate molasses
• 1/4 tsp red pepper flakes, optional
• salt to taste

For kebabs:

• assorted vegetables, such as zucchini, cherry tomato, sweet onion, pepper, blanched eggplant, mushroom

* I feel an obligation to mention this in honor of Mike, who bravely faced down the Tofu Tribunal yet again and lived to eat another meal.  I love tofu but I understand that not everyone does.  If you were feeling flush and hungry for a bit of beast, this marinade is so delicious rubbed into lamb chops that I don’t even have words to describe it. Oh wait, maybe I do:  I would live a much happier life if LAMB WASN’T SO BLOODY EXPENSIVE (I’m talking to YOU, New Zealand).

** I used peppery and pleasantly pungent Lebanese za’atar in my blend and I like the sour twang.  If your za’atar is a paler brown or greenish hue, consider increasing the spice and pomegranate molasses by 1.5 teaspoonfuls each.  Please be mindful of the fact that many za’atar blends already contain salt, and adjust your seasoning after it has been added to the mix.

Finely mince the garlic and place it in a smallish bowl.  Add the za’atar, olive oil, pomegranate molasses, and red pepper flakes (if using).  Add salt to taste (I used about 1/2 tsp).

Cut the firm tofu into fairly large cubes, each a minimum of 1 inch square.

Pour the thick za’atar marinade over the tofu and mix until each piece is coated.  Set the tofu aside to marinate for a minimum of 4 hours but up to…well, tofu isn’t like steak or chicken. You can leave those blessed cubes in the fridge all week and they’ll just keep taking on flavor.

Chop your selected vegetables into pieces about the same diameter as the tofu cubes.  Our combination includes zucchini, of course, because right now every meal includes zucchini. Toss the vegetables lightly in a wee splash of oil (about 1 tbsp) before threading them on skewers.

Grill the tofu over moderately high heat for 7-10 minutes, or until the vegetables are charred and softened and the tofu is firm and caramelized around the edges.

For a light lunch, these kebabs are perfect with nothing more than a fresh pita pocket and a cold beer on the side.  For dinner you may want to dress up the plate with some buttery basmati rice pilaf, grilled tomatoes and a dollop of hummus for posterity.

The pomegranate molasses lends a sweet-tart element to the earthy spice blend that is more than welcome, and these vegan kebabs are satisfying and flavorful enough to belie the fact that they’re low fat and healthy.

Maybe you’re a long term za’atar afficionado looking for another way to use this delightful blend, or maybe you’re a za’atar virgin who has just been waiting for the right recipe to make the first time, you know, special.  Either way, I think you should just shake up the spice rack and try something new.  After all, if it can make TOFU taste good….?

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Mostly the dedication to our readers, though.  You know that, right?  Love you, everybody!

I’ve bought all kinds of girly party drinks, unusual beers and pre-mixed cocktails in my time.  I’ve come home with cans in bright neon orange, with bottles full of that most awful of Tuscan Lemonades (with Limoncello!), and with wines that we could’ve put aside to take the wallpaper down from the walls of the house.  I have walked out the store with tiny little single-ounce samples, and I’ve staggered out under the burden of boxes and boxes of alcohol.  And in all that time, I have never, ever been laughed at.

Until I bought Proof Brand Whisky.

There are a few really important things to realize about Proof Brand Anything, before you jump in to actually paying for it.

1. It relies really, REALLY heavily on style.  The packaging is very slick, with little geometrically-patterned labels, modern-neato fonts and a wee little attractively-shaped bottle.
2. I do mean “wee little”:  The bottle itself is well smaller than average — only a half a liter, or 16 ounces.  It is meant to convey a certain degree of premium-ness, one imagines, in that you don’t need nearly as much of it.
3. The “Proof” is in the slightly elevated alcohol content, which in the case of the entire product line is ever-so-slightly stronger than the rest of the market:  fully 2% stronger, in fact, a concentration you were unlikely to notice if they hadn’t made it the focus of their whole marketing angle.

Indeed, it is the over-Proofness of this drink that really got me into trouble, and turned me against it so utterly.  And that was thanks to a particularly jolly woman from some former-Soviet republic or another, now employed at the LCBO and only too pleased to openly mock anyone who thought they were getting something special out of Proof.

“OH HO HO HA HA HA HA HA,” she noted.  “THIS ONE, HE IS TRY-EENK TO KEEEL HIMSELF!”

Feeling a little self-conscious about the fact that I was also buying some wine, a bit of beer and another bottle of liquor (what? We had company coming!), I protested, “Oh, it’s not ALL for me!  I’ve got guests–”

But she had already zoomed in.  “LOOK AT YOU, BUY-EENK THE PROOF.  OOOOOO!  PROOOOOOOOOOOOF!  IS NOT OVER-PROOF, YOU ARE KNOW-EENK THIS!”

“Well, I guess it’s technically overproo–”

“HA HA HA HA HA, BIG DEEEEL, TWO PERCENT!  YOU ARE TURN-EENK GREEN ALREADY FROM THE LEEE-KOR, I SEE!”

As much as I was withering under her harsh, Slavic scorn, I couldn’t deny what she was saying.  “Proof” as a measurement has its roots in the good old British Navy, who as part of a sailor’s pay would include a ration of rum.  To ensure that it wasn’t watered-down, though, its alcohol content would be measured by the nearest (if not necessarily safest) means available — they would douse gunpowder in it and then set it on fire.  If the gunpowder didn’t catch, then it was considered too dilute; if it did, then the alcohol content was adequate, though wholly more dangerous.

Eventually they figured out that the magic number was roughly 57% alcohol, which they (as the Imperial system liked to) went ahead and set as their standard of 100% proof.  Anything stronger was overproof, and anything weaker was underproof — the ratio to go by was an as-easy-as-any-other-British-measure 4:7 of alcohol to total fluid.  Americans, ever keen to simplify their lives and smooth the manufacturing process, re-set this to 5:5 or 50%, so that one could multiply the volume of alcohol by a factor of 2 to get the proof.

Thus, with almost every liquor on the shelf these days at 40% ABV, they all land very solidly in the underproof category, at 80.  An extra 2% does little more than nudge Proof slightly up the scale of real alcohol content, even while it attempts to graft Depression-era blinding liquors with pouty hipsters… with the minor side-effect of earning the massive derision of hearty, full-bodied liquor store employees.

All of this would be fine if Proof was as substantial as it was stylish.  The packaging of the product really is slick, I have to say.

Lookit those, aren’t they neat?  Wee little palm-sized drinks, as though you could just pop them up on a shelf somewhere and gesture casually towards them, “Oh, those?  Yes, I just found them so charming, you see.  And just a little bit stronger than your usual fare, don’t you know?  It’s a bit of a hidden gem, I’m not surprised you haven’t heard of it.”

And then your friends would smack you, because in the end, Proof is just another rye in a nifty bottle.  For all the swooshy stickers, for all the clever shelf appeal and typically un-navigable Flash website, when you taste the final product you’d be hard-pressed to distinguish it from a  reasonably sweet Canadian Club.

It’s not that Proof is bad whisky!  It’s just that it wants to be terribly clever, and if it wasn’t for the aggressive posturing I’d like it so much better.  Had they come forth to declare themselves as a micro-distillery with a neat idea, rather than some sort of weird alcohol club that caters only to people who dress like Flappers and Miami hustlers, I suspect I’d have a warmer attitude.

But as it is, Proof brand whisky is a case of concept overwhelming content.  With such a high bar set by its hip urban altern-approach, the contents of the bottle practically had to be sparkles that manifested themselves into a rocket-powered unicorn — that they were instead a fairly good rye that mixes well with Coke Zero is not, in any way, a realization of its promise.

RATING:  If you must, get someone to buy it for you.  Preferably someone who doesn’t mind being laughed at by Soviets.

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I should like sweet potatoes because in addition to simple starches they are rich in complex carbohydrates, dietary fiber, vitamins A, B and C, and beta carotene.  Who doesn’t love beta carotene? I have a theory that I am starting to go blind, despite significant evidence that I’m often just overly tired (coupled with the fact that my Optometrist rolls her eyes every time that I insist that I need glasses, considering that the tests all say 20/20).  For that reason, carrots, sweet potatoes, and other beta carotene rich vegetables end up on my “Golly These Are Great!” list of foods that make me feel better.  Sure, maybe I do tend towards hypochondria, but at least I’m an easily sated hypochondriac who is a sucker for the placebo effect.  Also, if I can ‘cure’ what ails me using a tuber instead of a tonic, isn’t that a good thing? Now if only I could find a vegetable to treat that itchy and cancerous tumour on my arm which Mike says is just a spider bite….

Back to the sweet potatoes though, since this article is clearly about to tumble down the slippery slope towards my questionable stability.  Ah, sweet potatoes.  They’re deliciously versatile, heart healthy and flavorific.  My almost-sister-in-law makes a killer twice baked sweet potato with cream cheese and pecans, using smaller and more delicate sweet potatoes, but heaven forbid that I would be so understated.  No, I go for the big, beefy sweet potatoes that are the size of a premature baby, and I pack them with vegetables until they’re so full that this entree could roll itself off the plate.  Sweet potatoes are commonly used in Thai and other Asian cuisines, and we borrowed these bold flavors like ginger, curry, spicy chili and cilantro to stuff a sweet potato that packs a punch…but then pats you on the head and says, “You ate well, kid.”

Thai Style Twice Baked Sweet Potatoes

Serves 4-6

• 3 large sweet potatoes *
• 2 tbsp olive oil + more to rub
• 2 red peppers
• 1 green pepper
• 1 yellow onion
• 4 cloves garlic
• large know (1.5″) fresh ginger
• 1/3 cup coconut milk
• 3 tsp Thai curry paste **
• 1 lime (1 tsp zest + juice of whole)
• 1/2 lemon (juice only)
• handful fresh cilantro (1/3 cup finely minced)
• 4 green onions
• 1 tsp sambal oelek, optional
• salt and pepper, to taste

* Sweet potatoes can vary in size and shape.  For this recipe, opt for large sweet potatoes that are 6-7″ long and of a fairly uniform shape (no curves, lumps or bends).

** Thair curry paste can commonly be found in yellow, red and green varieties. I used green curry paste this time but red works equally well and they are generally about equally spicy.  Store bought curry pastes will vary in both flavor and heat, so you might want to start out using less (1-2 tsp) if you are faint of heart and ramp up the heat as you feel comfortable.  We quite enjoy spicy food, and with the full amount of curry paste and sambal oelek it was decidedly -and deliciously- spicy.

Preheat your oven to 375ºF.

Wash and scrub the sweet potatoes to remove any lingering soil.  Lightly rub the outside of each sweet potato with a little bit of oil and then wrap it tightly in tinfoil. Bake the potatoes in your oven until they are fork tender, which should take 60-90 minutes depending on the size of your potatoes and how hot your oven runs.

If you are making these for a weeknight meal, you can always bake the sweet potatoes a day or two in advance and then prepare the rest of the recipe when you don’t have the same luxury of time.

While the sweet potatoes are baking, ready the rest of your ingredients.  Chop the peppers and yellow onion into a small dice (1/4″).  Peel the garlic and ginger and mince both quite finely.

Heat the 2 tablespoons of oil up in a fairly large skillet set over moderately to moderately-low heat.  Add the onions, garlic and ginger and let the onions sweat out for 3-5 minutes until they are translucent and just starting to turn golden.  Add the peppers and raise the heat slightly so that they don’t stew.  Sautee the peppers for another 2 minutes or so until they are tender but not mushy.

Immediately remove the pan from the heat when the peppers have softened.

When the sweet potatoes are cool enough to handle, cut each one vertically in half.  Scoop out the flesh but leave a 1/4″ shell around the sweet potato as this will be your ‘boat’.  Reserve the flesh in a medium-large mixing bowl.

Add the coconut milk, curry paste, lime zest and juice, lemon juice and sambal oelek (optional) to the sweet potato flesh.  Mash this mixture until it is smooth and no lumps remain.

Stir the slightly cooled pepper mixture into the seasoned sweet potato flesh.

Finely chop the green onions (both white and green parts) and mince the cilantro.  Stir these into the rest of the mixture and season with salt and pepper to taste.

Crank the heat in your oven up to broil.

Lightly oil a rimmed baking sheet and arrange the potato shells on it, skin side down. Mound the filling generously inside the shells.  If you want to pat the filling into a round but smoother shape, feel free to do so, but wet your hands before patting it.

Broil the stuffed sweet potatoes until the filling is piping hot and the top is beginning to char and brown.

This vegan entrée is sweet, spicy, and deceptively filling, so a fresh quickly marinated cucumber salad and some aromatic brown jasmine rice are a nice way to round out the meal.  Serve the twice baked sweet potatoes with a wedge of fresh lime on the side for squeezing.

Robust by light and heart healthy, these Thai style twice baked sweet potatoes are a hit in our house for dinner or leftover for lunch the next day.

Spicy and sweet, the flavor is complex with aromatic Thai curry paste and verdant cilantro.  The sweet potato is anything but humble or lowly, and the more I play with exotic flavors and varied preparations, the more I appreciate this fabulous orange fleshed root vegetable. Oh yes, and the fact that this recipe is filling but friendly to the waistline doesn’t hurt either!

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These include:

• CBC Radio 1:  Excruciating public affairs talk shows, lots of news about things that happen in Newfoundland, and high profile hosts like Stuart McLean.
• CBC Radio 2:  National music, which promises all kinds of neat independent stuff, but always seems to be lap guitars or fiddle music whenever you turn it on.
• CBC Radio 3:  Which is entirely online and extraordinarily great, but totally inaccessible from my car, so NEGATIVE TEN POINTS for that.

Tina loves Radio 1 with a depth I cannot possibly fathom, and the more obscure the topics that it delves into, the more I want to smash my forehead into the steering wheel as hard as I possibly can.

For example, on that morning I heard a clearly middle-aged male voice come on and — NO KIDDING — start discussing with absolute sincerity how he had no idea why the internet could be thought to improve anyone’s life.  Just a bunch of noise, what with the Facebooks and the Twitters and the navel-gazing and all, he went on, and what good was that to anyone?

I thought this might be satire, as though this was a caricature of someone who was unable to grasp decade-old examples like internet banking, web-based commerce or even just friggin’ e-mail.  Kind of like how the Onion lampoons editorial cartoons, by creating a character so staggeringly biased that it calls out the entire practice.

But no!  This guy was actually serious, and went on to relate how he could find no value in YouTube until he came across a series of instructional videos about woodworking.

Yes, really.  The CBC, everybody.

Once he had unearthed this treasure trove of information, he could suddenly understand what the whole fuss was about!  With the technique for proper dove-tailing revealed to him, this whole new media idea suddenly made sense, and he became a passionate devotee.

He concluded by sharing how he was now learning guitar off YouTube, too.

But, while I can never have those seven minutes of my life back, it did inspire me to seek out what other incredible instructional information I could find on YouTube — in particular, those intrepid souls who’ve gone to the lengths of producing their own online cooking shows.

Oh, and what I found!  God bless the internet, that’s all I can say.  So without further ado (and ideally no further mention of the CBC), I offer up a countdown of the 3 best YouTube cooking shows that I’ve found so far.

Depression Cooking

www.youtube.com/watch?v=iXUFmcOxG0A

Clara is a 94 year-old woman who has her own cookbook, has recorded two seasons of online recipes, and has a DVD for sale on Amazon and Barnes & Noble.  Through the stories she relates about her survival of the Depression, she teaches you how to cook frugally but with heart.

Honestly, you should pause for a moment and consider this:  Right here, in the same place on the internet where you watch a fat guy in a Tron suit make a fool of himself, is a woman whose food costs less than a dollar per serving and is busily launching a multimedia empire.  Who am I to argue with this?

I couldn’t even find my keys when I got home last night, you guys. How do you feel about what YOU’VE done today?

Dave Can Cook

www.youtube.com/watch?v=53VcmI4O51E

Dave seems to have only a tenuous mastery of internet technology, but that hasn’t stopped him from having one of the most affable and charming cooking channels that I’ve come across.  Here is a man who is entirely comfortable doing a full 8-minute bit for you about how to cook, and then eat, two eggs.  He sees nothing wrong with it; he just got a new pan, after all, so why shouldn’t he show it to you?

Because to Dave, that’s a concept worth discussing at length, and he’s charming enough to sustain a segment so paper-thin.  Don’t think so?  Here are three direct quotes that say it all:

• “I love me some grits.”
• “Soon as my egg starts to bubble up and look ready to flip… I’m gonna flip it.”
• “If it sticks, it’ll be okay.  I’ll still eat it.  You know how it is.”

Yes Dave, we do.  When you mash those eggs into your grits with a healthy pat of butter, we definitely do.

Now go on, show us how to deep-fry a Cornish hen.  You know you want to.

Hot For Cooking

www.youtube.com/watch?v=mKEuWPrkgNU

Go ahead and criticize, but there’ve been television cooking shows sold on sex appeal for YEARS.  Let’s just all give credit to Tifa for admitting it, and bringing to bear whatever assets she has to draw attention to her show.

Plus, she can still slice ginger better than I can.

Come on, admit that you haven’t dug into this channel at least a few more episodes, just to see what else she’s going to make/wear/do.  That there’s no website or e-commerce empire behind this woman is stunning to me, and yet there she is, making Chinese hamburgers and shooting milk out of graduated cylinders.

In the end, whatever else you do, at the end of one of Tifa’s episodes, you can say with confidence that you’ve never seen a cooking show like hers.

And in truth, that’s the wonder of the endless ocean of content flowing through sites like YouTube.  There is a whole world of weird, hilarious people out there who are totally genuine in their desire to do an honest-to-God cooking show — whether their angle is their insight drawn from the events of another generation, their doughty affection for butter and grits, or their great big hooters.

Whatever the case, they’re not to be missed, and they’re perfect to pass the time on a Friday afternoon.

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I’m the man  from the Christian Childrens’ Fund commercials that appear constantly on Sunday afternoon television, destroying your life with guilt when you’re just trying to watch a crappy movie while you’re on the treadmill.  Look at little Senorita here, she recognizes me, don’t you sweetheart?

Little girl:  My name is Emily, I TOLD you.  Can I have my iPod now?  You promised.

Poor Senorita here is so delirious with hunger, she would claim to be anyone right now, even a small child that I grabbed from the food court of an adjacent shopping mall.  But thanks to your generous donations, we’ve got this whole “poverty in Central America” thing pretty much beaten, which is why you don’t hear about it on the news any more.  So instead of showing you the usual footage of Senorita eating disgusting mush and learning math that you — for only pennies a day — were able to fund, here’s a really kickass shot of a great big cargo plane raking the area around her village with a supply bombing run drop.

But our work as good Christians is not done, everyone.  There are always others in need, and as generous spirits willing to give our utmost to alleviate suffering, we must continue to share wherever we can.  For even while there were those who have never known anything but a life of poverty, there are others who have had the best years of their lives taken away from them — and most upsetting of all, it’s happened to them here on our own doorstep.

I refer, of course, to the sad misfortunes of Canadian celebrities.

Yes, for every Neve Campbell and Mike Meyers, there are those Canadians whose lives are not a constant, shining success.  It is to them we must now lend a helping hand, to act outside of our normal habit out of charity, and to set aside our sense of value to keep these good people off the streets.

We must buy their wine.

WAIT!  Before you change the channel, consider:  Don’t I look kind of like Santa Claus?  A very sad, old Santa Claus who has seen too much of the world and needs your help to take his pain away, for only pennies a day?

Exactly, and that’s why you should take a look at these poor souls and their misfortunes, and then drink their generally okay, but mostly overpriced wines.  For example, meet little Wayne.

No. 99 Estates Winery

At one time, Wayne here was the greatest hockey player in history, breaking more records than Senorita knows how to count.  He parlayed his success in Edmonton to a comfortable life in California, where he played with the L.A. Kings and married a woman who was on the cover of Playboy.  If anyone could feel content to run around the world for the rest of his days, collecting high-fives and feeling great about himself, it’s Wayne.

But then, tragedy:  After only winning ONE gold medal as the head of the Canadian Olympic hockey program, Wayne descended into mediocre coaching career and invested in the Phoenix Coyotes, a team so unloved that it’s actually considered an upgrade to move it to Hamilton.  With nowhere else to turn for money beyond his numerous endorsements, Wayne has resorted to his family’s tragic history of home-brewing alcohol.

When Wayne Gretzky was a child, his grandfather — a Russian immigrant — used to make wine at home in Ontario. “He grew his own grapes, everything,” said Gretzky, who remembers trying it when he was younger.

His history of childhood alcohol abuse now only too apparent, Wayne needs your help.  Attempting to turn his family’s sullied history of bootlegging to a positive end, he now sells the wine he makes at home (or one of his homes, in the Niagara Peninsula) on the streets, mostly above the sixteen dollar price point.  The whites are the only ones below that, and while it may be that you wince after you sip one of them, try to remember:  He’s a retiree, and he needs the money.

Otherwise, Wayne will sell you any kind of wine you may imagine grows in Niagara, and he seems to do the best with icewines, which have started to win international recognition.  With your generous donation, these special vintages can be yours for only forty-five to one hundred and twenty-five dollars — the funds for which will help Wayne continue to adequately tip the beer cart girls when he’s on the golf course.

But there’s more than one Canadian athlete down on his luck!  Why, look at poor Mike here.

Mike Weir Wines

Is there any greater Canadian hero in recent memory than Mike Weir?  Having won more than 7 PGA tour events — his last just three years past, probably — his is a name that is permanently etched into the memory of his countrymen.  His nail-biting, single Master’s win only the better part of a decade ago is reason enough that he continues to appear in national sports columns, notwithstanding the laws that mandate a percentage of Canadian content.

And yet, despite that thrilling success, his commitment to his sport has left him crippled.  Just see what he had to say to this reporter from the Ottawa Citizen:

“It’s a tough sport at the best of times when you’re feeling good and it’s like taking a knife to you (right now),” Weir told reporters.

It has been a difficult year for the 40-year-old.

His frustrations seemed to boil over at the U.S. Open earlier this month when he said he had considered changing coaches.

“I can’t keep playing like this,” he said then. “I’ve got to

Yes, times have gotten so hard for poor Mike that even printed articles dismiss him mid-sentence.  But how can you help this fallen titan, this giant of golf whose press coverage just never seems to go away?

For just fifteen dollars, you must find it in your heart to drink his wines.  At the Mike Weir Wine website, you can choose from no fewer than FOUR varieties of Mike Weir wine — two whites and two reds, which is DOUBLE the choice you’d get if you were on a domestic commuter flight.  And while sure, the whites seem aggressively affordable in both price AND flavor, Mike gives you the chance to fund his recovery with some quite generous reds:  A triple-blend Cabernet-Sauvignon/Cabernet-Franc/Merlot/kitchen sink red at nineteen bucks, and a straight-ahead Pinot Noir at twenty-two.

Who says that Ontario wines are cheap?  Not Mike, and he’s willing to prove it to you for only the price of a cup of coffee a day.

But if for some reason you can’t find it within your heart to help Mike, then won’t you please think of Danny.

Dan Aykroyd Winery

Seriously, won’t SOMEONE think of Dan Aykroyd?  Because we’re starting to get a little worried here.

Once upon a time, he was one of the most successful alumni of Saturday Night Live, with a movie career that includes numerous classics and childhood favorites — not to mention a few cult hits in their own right.  He mastered a particular kind of sympathetic, fast-talking, neo-nerd comedy that many have aped but few have managed to duplicate, and he seemed as a comedian to be content to only infrequently touch on the nasty side he was capable of showing:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y7S_XWuKpHc

Instead, let us consider what depths to which Dan has now sunk.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=4hiJ2dbpRY0

I can’t say for certain why Dan went from being one of the more beloved comedians of his day to the voice of Yogi Bear, nor can we safely imply that his over-riding and passionate interest in the supernatural is among the reasons.  But it could be that when you discuss ghosts, and chat in all seriousness about aliens actively molesting cattle to collect their anuses, it might degrade your overall credibility in the entertainment business.

All of which is a pity, because as genuinely weird as Dan appears to be, he never seems to fail at being a genuine and approachable guy.  So it would be a shame if you haven’t yet tried the product that Dan produces out of the Lakeview Cellars Estate, all of which are exactly a dollar less than the least expensive wine offered by our other charity cases, and none of which are nearly as good.  But that’s okay, because even if his wine isn’t that great, Dan wants to earn your support through nothing short of SELLING LIQUOR IN CRYSTAL SKULLS.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=SKqjIv91Zx8

For your generous gift of fifty Canadian dollars, you can give Dan all he could ever ask for:  Validation that someone out there truly believes a glass rendering of a human skull, filled with a vodka of reasonable quality, will help you to self-actualize and harness the power of the Universe.  And that’s kind of hilarious, let’s just admit it.

Our Canadian celebrities need your help, if they’re expected to continue in the lifestyle that lets us all pretend that Canadians have relevance on the world’s stage.  Give generously to these pretty good products, and you can make sure that nobody forgets how much our faded athletes and insane entertainers mean to us — and hopefully encourage them on to greater heights of modestly affordable beverages.

And, in the end, that’s really what matters, isn’t it Senorita?

Little Girl:  MY NAME IS EMILY FOR GOD’S SAKE.

Ha ha ha, of course it is. Here, have some more mush.

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• The Pity Party

Meet Nancy and Dan, great partners who are dearly beloved by us Choosy Beggars folks.  Over the last week you might have heard the creaking of crickets as our site loaded, and it’s because we abandoned ship and went gallivanting off to Northern Ontario, specifically the beautiful and bohemian Thunder Bay area, to celebrate the wedding of two of our besties.

Together, we shared five days of laughter and song. From the late night campfires that were always accompanied by the soulful strumming of a guitar (or three) to jokes with old friends and new, we’ll be keeping these memories close to our hearts for a very long time.

Nancy and I met about 14 years ago when we were both working at a resort in Muskoka, and the friendship was fast and built to last.  We’ve had slumber parties with whispered confessions in cities across Canada, from Montreal, Quebec to Jasper, Alberta. She’s one of the most caring, creative and dichotic people that I’ve ever met, and I count myself blessed to have her friendship.  When Nancy started dating Dan a few years ago, obviously I ran the poor guy over hot coals, poking at him to see if I could find some buttons to press.  After all, Nancy’s my girl and she deserves nothing but the best.

Note:  She got it.

Dan is like some mythical Captain Canuck, the wilderness hero with a kindness and moral purity that never ceases to astound me.  There are times when Mike just shakes his head, muttering, “Goddamned Dan. He’s just so…so…..so DECENT.”  Indeed, just being around Dan seems to dampen some of my natural vitriol, and if it’s possible to become a better person by osmosis, well, he’s the guy that will make it happen.

The love that Nancy and Dan share is touching and exquisite, and I could not imagine a better lover and companion for my girl.  They are partners in the truest sense.

As for the wedding itself, it was perfect.  The day was sunny with a gentle breeze, and the lapping waves of Lake Shebandowan gurgled a harmony of best wishes for the happy couple.  The bride was stunning in a vintage gown from the 1930′s, and the personal touches during the ceremony and reception were a reflection of the couple and their values.  From the father of the bride’s rendition of Frank Sinatra’s “Nancy (With The Laughing Face)”, which had me weeping like a silly goose, to the first dance, sung by the best man and I, it was a night of music, love and laughter.

Congratulations again to our good friends! It was a wonderful weekend.

Now then, on to the meat of this post. Or, in this case, the vegan salad.  The Friday night of Nancy and Dan’s wedding weekend was a big meet-and-greet style potluck at the camp.  The groom’s delightful father supplied enough ribs to keep our Alberta pig farms in business for another 10 years or so, and everyone brought their favorite massive salad or side dish.  There were some classics, like the father of the bride’s creamy potato salad, or “Jinny’s Famously Good Peas” (which were creamy, full of bacon, and decidedly worthy of their title).  It won’t surprise you that a grazer like me adores a good potluck and all the variety that entails, and I’m still licking remembered rib-sauce of my lips with pleasure.

On behalf of the bridal party, our contribution to the night was mammoth roasting pan full of sweet and tangy spice rich Moroccan chickpea and raisin salad.  The dressing had a touch too much cumin for my taste (which can be easily attributed to drinking a bottle of gin before whipping it together at 2am the previous night), but that has been corrected in the recipe below.  Enjoy!

Moroccan Chickpea and Raisin Salad

• 2 cans ( 19 oz each) chickpeas
• 2 red peppers
• 4 ribs celery
• 4 green onions
• 1 cup sultana raisins
• small bunch cilantro (1/3 cup finely chopped)
• handful parsley (1/4 cup finely chopped)
• 1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
• 2 medium cloves garlic
• 1 large lemon (1/4 cup juice)
• 1 large lime (2.5 tbsp juice)
• 1 tbsp honey
• 3/4 tsp garam masala
• 1/2 tsp ground cumin
• 1/4 tsp red chili flakes, or to taste
• 1 tsp kosher salt, or to taste

Press the garlic or mince and pound it into a paste.  Put this in a smallish bowl along with the spices and salt.  Squeeze in the lemon and lime juice and whisk in the honey.  Slowly drizzle in the olive oil, whisking constantly, until the dressing is emulsified.

This salad is fairly quick and easy, but does require a fair bit of chopping.  Dice the celery and red pepper into small (1/4″) squares. Finely chop the whole green onions, both white and green parts.

Add the chopped vegetables to a fairly large mixing bowl along with the cup of raisins and the two cans (drained and rinsed) of chickpeas.  Pour the dressing over top.

Finely mince the leaves of the cilantro and parsley and stir the herbs into the salad.  Taste and adjust the seasoning as you see fit.

The recipe is easily doubled for a potluck dish that can serve a crowd, but the best thing about this salad, in my opinion, is that it just gets better with time.  Leftovers are a lucky blessing.  Given a day in the fridge, the raisins will absorb the dressing and plump up and the flavors will mellow and marry.  Aw, marriage.  See? I do come back to my theme eventually.

Healthy and balanced, a little bit sweet and a little bit spicy, this salad is an awful lot like our friends Nancy and Dan and we just can’t get enough.

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I am hardly alone in my affections for Caprese salad.  A few weeks ago I was having dinner with a girl friend and I asked what she was going to order.  Her face tweaked into a contemplative frown and she said, “Gee, I don’t know. Everything looks so good.  Oh, but I’ll be starting with the Caprese salad of course.”

…Of course?

“Yes,” she continued.  “If I see Caprese salad on the menu I have to get it.  I mean, I don’t have a choice.  I’m compelled. My strength of will is gone.  I’m possessed by a higher power.”  She shrugged. “Also, it’s Caprese salad. Even if it’s bad, it’s still really good.”

Ah, Caprese.  It’s the crème brulée of the salad world; so common that it’s almost ubiquitous bistro fare, and yet we still can’t get enough.

The love child between Panzanella, a traditional Italian bread and tomato salad that I can’t get enough of, and Caprese, this dish is perfect as a light lunch for our hot, muggy August weather. Besides being quick and almost effortless to make, guaranteed to be delicious when made with juicy summer tomatoes and a nice baguette, this is also cheap and cheerful (especially if your tomatoes are plucked from the garden) and a great way to use up leftover bread.  That’s often enough incentive for me!

Simple Caprese Bread Salad

Serves 4 as a meal, or 6 quite modestly

• 1 day old baguette
• 14 oz (~400 g) cocktail bocconcini (~2.5 cups)
• 2.5 lb (~1.25 kg) ripe summer tomatoes *
• small bunch fresh basil (1/2 cup chopped)
• 1 small clove garlic
• 1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
• 2 tbsp balsamic vinegar
• 1 tsp kosher salt, or to taste

* I love using sweet cherry tomatoes in a bread salad, but whatever is fresh and very ripe is fine.  We’ve got 8 types of tomatoes growing in the back yard right now, of which 4 are cherry tomato, so I’ve used a bit of a motley assortment including everything from Roma to Bloody Butcher and back again. If you don’t feel like weighing the tomatoes, this will be about 5-6 cups when chopped.

Drain the mini bocconcini balls and put them in a large mixing bowl.  Chop your tomatoes into bite sized pieces and add these to the bowl as well.  Now you might be thinking to yourself, “Hey, but a cherry tomato IS bite sized, isn’t it?” That’s true, but all the tomatoes need to actually be cut because the fresh tomato juice will infuse and soften the bread.

Cube the bread into bite sized pieces, each no larger than one inch.  Whether the bread is a bit stale or not, I like to toast it in the oven.  What can I say except that I find browned bread more attractive and I like the sweet smoky flavor that it adds.  More importantly, the toasting finishes drying out the bread because even if it’s dry as a bone, that just means more opportunity to absorb fluids from turgid tomatoes.

When the bread cools, add it to the tomato mixture.

Press a clove of small garlic or pound it into a pulp with the salt.  Stir in the oil and slowly drizzle in the balsamic vinegar, whisking constantly.

Pour the dressing evenly on top of the bread and tomatoes, and toss the mixture gently to combine all the ingredients.  The best tool to do this is your hands, because you really just want to lift and turn the bread until it is moist, being careful not to crumble or break the toasted pieces.

Set this aside for 30-60 minutes to allow your bread time to rehydrate.

Either chiffonade or coarsely chop the basil and add it to the mix, working it through well so that the herbage (are you surprised that ‘herbage’ is actually a word? Because I sure was) is evenly dispersed.

I like to let a bread salad sit around for a while at room temperature. Panzanella is like a classic cocktail party where everyone starts out brittle and uptight until they soak up some heady libations and start to mingle.  By the end of the night Mr. Bread Chunk is loudly bragging to a lazy ball of bocconcini about how somebody’s cherry (tomato) is getting popped tonight, but everything stays pretty mellow….likely from all the herb that got passed around earlier.

The well seasoned and softly chewable bread becomes quite luscious, but the sweetness of those fresh tomatoes will still be the star of the show.

For an easy, lighter and crowd pleasing lunch or small summer dinner, put those tomatoes to use and redefine the meaning of “breaking bread” with your loved ones!

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I just don’t feel that it’s necessary to deep fat fry in most circumstances,when you can achieve an equally good –and sometimes better– version at home through food that is baked or broiled.  Also worthy of note, how many of us actually have a deep fat fryer at home? Do you?  My parents had a deep fryer when I was growing up, and I think it was used on a semi-annual basis, so maybe that’s where part of my antipathy comes from. The deep fryer would be hauled out of hiding, filled with oil that could rarely be reused (either because of the flavor of what was cooked or because it would go stale rapidly after the first use), and then there was the fiasco of cleaning the beast. Deep fryers for home use have improved significantly over time (and I am almost enamored with an “easy clean” option that I saw by T-fal), but after a brief and informal survey of my friends I found that only two (2) people actually had one.  That’s rather stark.   I don’t see the point in posting recipes that most people can’t make at home, and because I prefer to bake rather than fry whenever possible, I bring you our newest Pub Night delight:  cauliflower with a seasoned breading that is baked and served with a lusciously pungent, bright, sweet and garlicky Romesco sauce.

Vegetable haters around the world, unite!  You’ve been waiting for this post, and you will never turn your nose up at cauliflower again.

Cauliflower Poppers with Romesco Sauce

Serves 4-6 as an appetizer, or 8 as a small cocktail snack

Romesco Sauce

• 2-3 large field tomatoes (~1.25 lb)
• 1 bulb garlic
• 1/4 cup almonds
• 1/4 cup hazelnuts
• 1 dried ancho chili *
• 1 slice stale bread **
• 4 tbsp extra virgin olive oil, divided
• 2 tbsp red wine vinegar
• 3/4 tsp kosher salt

* If you have a lightly smoked dried ancho chili it adds an exciting and tantalizing flavor to the dip, but a regular dried ancho chili is more traditional and just as good.

** A slice of white ‘peasant bread’ is traditional, but sandwich bread is fine. It’s rare for us to have white sliced loaf bread in the house, but thankfully the bread is more for texture than taste, so a slice of whole wheat is just fine.  If your bread is fresh and not stale, either lightly toast it or leave a slice sitting (uncovered) on the counter for the better part of a day.

Cauliflower Poppers

• 1 large head of cauliflower (3-4 lb)
• 2 large eggs
• 1/3 cup milk
• 1 tbsp Dijon mustard
• 1 cup all purpose flour
• 2 cups panko bread crumbs*
• 1/4 cup dry grated parmesan cheese
• 1.5 tsp garlic powder **
• 1 tsp oregano
• salt and pepper to taste

* Panko refers to a Japanese bread crumb that is lighter, crispier, and coarser than regular bread crumbs.  Panko is appealing because although it does not always have the same coverage as bread crumbs (for example, baked mozzarella sticks using panko was a cataclysmic failure) the texture is lighter and deliciously crispy.

** Please use garlic powder so that you can control the salt content.  If all that you have is granulated garlic salt, use it but be mindful of how much extra salt that adds to the dish and scale back significantly on salting the flour and egg.

Lets start with the Romesco sauce.  Romesco is a rich tasting garlicky sauce/dip from Spain.  It is a great accompaniment to seafood and poultry, but I like to use it as a vegan dip for fresh vegetables (fennel must be on that platter), smeared on crostini with a sprinkle of parsley, or used as a dip for milder foods.  The ingredients are simple and rustic, but the flavor of this dip is complex and absolutely addictive.  I’m telling you, when it comes to simple foods that you just can’t stop eating, the Spaniards set the bar pretty high.

Preheat your oven to 350ºF with the racks in the center.

Core the tomatoes using a fairly shallow conical cut.  Slice just enough off of the top of the garlic so that the cloves are exposed, just like if you were going to wrap and roast the whole head.  Set the snipped tops of the garlic bulb aside.

On a baking sheet, drizzle 2 tablespoons of oil over the tomatoes and garlic bulb, making sure that you smear some on the sheet where they will be sitting and across the skin of each.  Lightly salt the tomatoes.

Place the baking sheet in the oven to roast for about one (1) hour, or until the garlic cloves are a deep golden color and the tomato skin is completely blistered and bursting.  Set these aside until they are cool enough to handle.

While the tomatoes roast, heat a small skillet over moderate heat and add the nuts and chili.  Shaking the pan occasionally, toast the nuts until they’re browned and dark in spots, which should take about 3-5 minutes.  As soon as the nuts are toasted, remove them to cool in a separate bowl.  You might need to continue toasting the chili for another minute or two until it has a puffy blistered look and is sweetly fragrant.

Put the chili in a shallow bowl and cover it with hot water.  Let the chili soak for about 30 minutes until it is rehydrated.

Ease the blistered skin off of the tomatoes and gently squish them over the bowl of a food processor (to catch the juices) before adding the fruit and any accumulated liquids.  Squeezing gently from the bottom of each clove, ease the roasted garlic out of the papery skin and add all of the roasted cloves to the bowl.

Remove the stem and seeds from the chili and then tear it into several manageable pieces.  Tear the bread into chunks as well and add both to the food processor.

Finally, take the reserved “top” of the garlic bulb and remove each of the sliced clove tops from their paper.  Being conscious of the fact that fresh garlic is awfully pungent, if you were a bit cavalier with your knife and cut off more than the top 1/4″ of the bulb, only add in a maximum of one (1) teaspoon full of garlic segments.

Puree the mixture until it is smooth.

Add the olive oil, vinegar, salt and toasted nuts.  Like hummus, the end texture of Romesco sauce is a matter of taste.  Some people like it super smooth, others want it a bit chunky where you can see the nuts.  I like it to be fairly smooth and consistent, but with small bits of nut speckling and adding a gentle coarseness to the mixture.  Pulse the mixture in your food processor until you have a texture that you like.

Taste the sauce and adjust the seasoning (salt and pepper) as you see fit.  Chill the Romesco until you’re ready to serve the poppers.

Now then, onto the cauliflower poppers!

Increase the temperature of your oven to 425ºF with the racks still in the center position.

Core the cauliflower and discard the stem.  Ease the florets apart into small bite sized pieces, which are about 1/3 to 1/2 the size of what you would see on a vegetable platter.

Prepare two shallow and one medium sized bowls.  In the first shallow bowl add the flour and season it with salt and pepper.

In the second shallow bowl, whisk the eggs with the milk and Dijon mustard.

In the third bowl mix together the panko bread crumbs with oregano, parmesan and garlic powder.  Season lightly with salt and pepper.

To bread the cauliflower florets, first roll them around in the flour until they are coated.  Dip the floured floret (I just love saying that) into the egg mixture.  Shake off any excess egg and then roll it in the crumb mixture, pressing gently to ensure that the breading adheres.

Place the breaded florets on 1-2 large baking sheets lined with parchment paper.

Bake the cauliflower poppers for 20-25 minutes, until the breading is crispy and lightly browned.  After the first ten minutes you’ll want to rotate the pans (if you used two) and turn each floret over so that they will cook evenly and brown on more than one side.

Serve the cauliflower florets on a large platter with the Romesco sauce on the side for dipping.

I love the buttery, nutty taste of roasted cauliflower, but when you bread and season it cauliflower takes on a whole new dimension.  Crispy on the outside with a juicy and dense interior, these golden nuggets would be a fabulous snack just on their own.

The Romesco, however, is what takes this over the top and into the realm of Snacks I Would Eat For Dinner.  Garlicky and rich without being overwhelming, bright but not offensively acidic, the Romesco is the perfect pairing to make these morsels utterly addictive.

When I made this a few days ago, Mike and I went through the entire platter on our own. Why wouldn’t we, though? This isn’t exactly a fatty and caloric snack, and the richness of the Romesco comes through heart healthy toasted nuts that are chock full of omega 3 and oils that make your hair glossy and skin look dewy and fresh.  If it wasn’t for the fact that dried ancho peppers are hard to come by in our neck of the woods (this one was carefully plucked from a care package sent from San Antonio that I jealously guard and mete out in a most miserly way), this is one of the snacks that we’d have in weekly rotation.

Cauliflower is more than just filler on a veggie tray, and you owe it to yourself to let it shine as the understated but flavor-rich vegetable that it can be. For the next pub night that you have at your house, lighten up a bit and give these poppers and dip a whirl.  You won’t be sorry.

Now then, if only I could figure out how to make great breaded mushroom caps with half the fat, my pub nights would be complete…..Similar Posts:

• Pub Night: Baked Jalapeno Poppers with Cilantro-Lime Yoghurt Dip
• Pub Night: Panko Crusted Buttermilk Chicken Fingers with Curried Apricot Sauce
• Cauliflower and Apple Gratin with Blue Cheese and Cranberries
• Pub Night: Piri Piri Breaded Pickle Spears with Buttermilk Dill Dipping Sauce
• Pub Night: Crispy Baked Onion Rings