Christie's Corner

Local Saturday - Thanksgiving starts at the Farmers' Market

charmian.christie@gmail.com (Christie's Corner) — Sat, 11 Oct 2008 12:35:00 +0000

Great minds think alike. I was saving this local post for the (Canadian) Thanksgiving weekend. Fall harvest, gratitude, the bounty at our local Farmers' Market... It tied together perfectly. But Dana McCauley beat me to it. Well, I guess two bloggers getting the word out is better than one, so here goes...

A while ago I blogged about a site that told you which fruits and vegetables were in season and regional farms that grew the harvest. I visited the site to see what unexpected bounty was in season, but found nothing except links to ads. My guess is the funding ran out before they could get enough farmers on board.

Fortunately, Greenbeltfresh.ca has stepped up to the plate and provides a list of every Farmers' Market in Ontario's Greenbelt. You can search by postal code, region or day. While it's not the same as sending you straight to a pick-your-own farm, my guess is one trip and you'll be hooked.

I snapped today's photo at the Guelph Farmers' Market last week and have decided to post a few of my favourite market shots at my Photo Project blog for fun. Feel free to drop by and see what the market has to offer.

In the meantime, I'm off the Farmers' Market and then Ignatius College to pick apples. When my sister called to ask me to go apple picking, I was tempted to say, "What is this? A foreign film?" Instead, I'm grabbing my camera, dusting off my apple basket and giving thanks that I live so close to where the food is grown.

Anyone up for apple pie?

Flipper

charmian.christie@gmail.com (Christie's Corner) — Fri, 10 Oct 2008 17:43:00 +0000

Yesterday I had Dana worried I was cooking up penguins. Anyone else wonder if I'd lost my locavore leanings as well as my mind?

Looking back I realized I've posted a few odd animal shots this week. Continuing the trend and hoping to pass it off as clever and intentional editorial decision, I'd like to introduce you to Flipper.

Don't worry. There will be no dolphin dishes or porpoise pies. Flipper is a flexible, reversible measuring spoon made by the good people at Trudeau. It's dishwasher safe and comes in three colours.

The bowls of the spoons are made with a flexible thermal rubber. Being reversible, they eliminate the need for extensive measuring spoon sets. The spoons to the left have only two bowls, but provide four different measurements. Just pop the large measuring spoon inside-out and it goes from 1 tablespoon to ½ tablespoon. The small measure transforms from 1 teaspoon to ½.

With only four measurements, my 4-in-1 Flipper isn't precise enough for my needs. I frequently come across recipes that call for ¾ teaspoon of this or ¼ teaspoon of that, and end up back at the utensil drawer.

To address this, Trudeau also makes a nesting version that measures from ⅛ teaspoon to a whole tablespoon. They also make nested measuring cups ranging from ⅛ cup right up to a full cup, including ⅓ and ⅔ cup measurements.

Gadget gauge: I really like the concept but am frustrated by the real world use. I often make recipes that require me to use both sides the spoon. This is fine if I'm working with dry, non-staining ingredients like salt or baking powder. But when I working with spices like turmeric or sticky liquids like honey, the spoons aren't so handy. I also find the spoon doesn't fit into the narrow necks of most commercial spice jars.

Although my bright orange Flipper is easy to find in a drawer of silver metal utensils, its two-in-one design is not much of a space-saver. My conventional measuring spoons nest tightly and lie flat. Flipper is slightly deeper and wider at both the top and bottom. Whether this is a benefit or not will vary from kitchen to kitchen.

While Flipper has too many limits for serious cooks, a set would be ideal for teaching a child to be comfortable in the kitchen. The bright colours are fun and inviting, you're supposed to pop them inside-out and they're sturdy. I can also see Flipper being a handy camping or cottage item.

Dolphin photo © Just Taken Pics, published under a Creative Commons License.

Penguins

charmian.christie@gmail.com (Christie's Corner) — Thu, 09 Oct 2008 12:25:00 +0000

I happened by a Scottish bakery yesterday and popped in to see what sort of goodies they offered. Currant-filled eccles cakes, buttery shortbreads and various meat pies lined the display case. The woman in front of me had placed a very large order and was about to leave when she spotted something on the shelf above the counter.

"Are those Penguins?" she asked in a thick Scottish accent. I mistook the note of excitement in her voice to be a charming Celtic lilt.

"Yes, they are," said the clerk in an equally thick brogue.

"How much?" The woman sounded positively eager.

"A pound thirty-five." The clerk held up a bar the size of a family-sized Kit Kat. She pointed to the price printed on a corner of the bright blue package. "But here, they're three ninety-five."

"Ooooh... I'll take three."

The clerk lifted three floppy packages off the shelf. "Careful," she said, handing the stack to the customer like Prince Charming presenting Cinderella with the glass slipper. "They're worth gold."

The woman left with her treasure. When it was my turn to order, I asked what Penguins were, anticipating a long, rapturous explanation. The clerk shrugged and said, "Chocolate biscuits, dear. Now, what'll you have?"

Clearly, if I had to ask I wouldn't understand.

I've no idea whether a McVitie's Penguin is superior to other chocolate biscuits or not, but it was obvious this was a taste of home for these women. Having lived abroad, I know that what I missed most wasn't always top-of-the-line cuisine. Why else would friends have mailed me Tim Hortons' rims when I was studying in Australia?

So, set your food-snob preferences aside and tell me ― When you're abroad what says "home" to you?

Photo © Steve Deger, published under a Creative Commons License.

What's with the Crocs?

charmian.christie@gmail.com (Christie's Corner) — Wed, 08 Oct 2008 12:43:00 +0000

If you read my post yesterday at Accidental Hedonist, this photo will be familiar. These crimson Crocs belong to chef Samuel Hybels, chef/owner of Samuel's in Suttons Bay, Michigan.

Closer to home, chef Alex Sgroi, owner of Alex's Kitchen wears blazing orange.

Both chefs have eponymous restaurants. Both admire Mario Batali, who loves his Crocs. Both produce amazing food.

While the footwear is uglier than monkfish, it's non-slip and prevents muscle fatigue. Chefs seem to love them.

Hmmm.... my blog is also eponymous, but I cook in bare feet in the summer and wooly socks in the winter (granted, I don't work in a professional kitchen). Am I only a pair of hideous shoes away from culinary greatness?

What do you put on your feet when cooking?

Omnivore's Dilemma

charmian.christie@gmail.com (Christie's Corner) — Tue, 07 Oct 2008 11:53:00 +0000

I keep coming across a list of 100 items every omnivore should try before they die. So, since my wrist is acting up again and I'm not up to much beyond a cut and paste session, I thought I'd play along.

The list was posted at Very Good Taste and I'm sure has become popular because it's controversial, not because it's comprehensive. With items ranging from gourmet treats to college dorm fare, the list touches on almost all aspects of gastronomy. While some dishes are straight out of fast food hell, others are ethical nightmares. Some are so strange you'll be racing to Google for guidance, and others will have you running for cover.

According to VGT, I am to:

1) Copy this list into my blog or journal, including these instructions. (✓ Check) 2) Bold all the items I've eaten. (✓ Check) 3) Cross out any items that I would never consider eating. (✓ Check) 4) Optional extra: Post a comment here at www.verygoodtaste.co.uk linking to your results. (Will do)

And now that the formalities are over, The VGT Omnivore’s Hundred:

1. Venison

2. Nettle tea

3. Huevos rancheros

4. Steak tartare (no thanks, I saw the Mr. Bean episode)

5. Crocodile (tasted like a cross between calamari and chicken)

6. Black pudding (no thanks, I know what goes in it)

7. Cheese fondue

8. Carp (not knowingly)

9. Borscht (didn't like it. See my "No Beet" policy)

10. Baba ghanoush (love it)

11. Calamari (love it)

12. Pho

13. PB&J sandwich (you're joking, right?)

14. Aloo gobi (love it)

15. Hot dog from a street cart

16. Epoisses

17. Black truffle (didn't like it)

18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes (yes!)

19. Steamed pork buns (I'm a no-pork zone)

20. Pistachio ice cream (love it!)

21. Heirloom tomatoes (love them!)

22. Fresh wild berries (love them!)

23. Foie gras (did once but can't face it ethically)

24. Rice and beans

25. Brawn, or head cheese

26. Raw Scotch Bonnet pepper

27. Dulce de leche

28. Oysters

29. Baklava (yes!)

30. Bagna cauda

31. Wasabi peas

32. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl (had both, not together)

33. Salted lassi (only had sweet mango lassi)

34. Sauerkraut

35. Root beer float (my dad's favourite)

36. Cognac with a fat cigar (Was sick for two days. Never again.)

37. Clotted cream tea

38. Vodka jelly/Jell-O

39. Gumbo

40. Oxtail

41. Curried goat

42. Whole insects

43. Phaal

44. Goat’s milk

45. Malt whisky from a bottle worth £60/$120 or more

46. Fugu

47. Chicken tikka masala (love it!)

48. Eel

49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut (what's all the fuss about?)

50. Sea urchin

51. Prickly pear

52. Umeboshi

53. Abalone

54. Paneer

55. McDonald’s Big Mac Meal

56. Spaetzle

57. Dirty gin martini

58. Beer above 8% ABV

59. Poutine (I'd rather not...)

60. Carob chips (VGT doesn't know me, do they?)

61. S’mores (again, you're kidding me, right?)

62. Sweetbreads (nothing sweet about this!)

63. Kaolin

64. Currywurst

65. Durian

66. Frogs’ legs (they really do taste like chicken)

67. Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake

68. Haggis (I believe this prompted Mike Meyers to say Scottish cuisine is based on a dare)

69. Fried plantain (tried once, but my friend mistakenly bought banana -- didn't work)

70. Chitterlings, or andouillette (my "No Offal" policy stands firm)

71. Gazpacho

72. Caviar and blini (Blini is fine, didn't like the caviar)

73. Louche absinthe

74. Gjetost, or brunost

75. Roadkill (again, VGT doesn't read my blog)

76. Baijiu

77. Hostess Fruit Pie

78. Snail (tasted like garlic-flavoured rubber)

79. Lapsang souchong (tasted like tarred, burned rope)

80. Bellini (soon, I hope, soon)

81. Tom yum

82. Eggs Benedict

83. Pocky

84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant

85. Kobe beef

86. Hare (does rabbit count?)

87. Goulash

88. Flowers (mmm, lavender)

89. Horse (Mr Ed?! No way!)

90. Criollo chocolate (might have, but not sure)

91. Spam (No, but I'll listen to Monty Python do a skit on it)

92. Soft shell crab

93. Rose harissa

94. Catfish

95. Mole poblano

96. Bagel and lox

97. Lobster Thermidor

98. Polenta

99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee

100. Snake (I'd rather bite it before it bites me!)

I can't believe the list doesn't include Blazing Star peaches, butter tarts and red velvet cake.

Okay, your turn. Anything VGT missed?

Photo © madnzany, published under a Creative Commons License.

Whisky Works -- As the Barrel Turns (Special Nosing Edition)

charmian.christie@gmail.com (Christie's Corner) — Mon, 06 Oct 2008 13:46:00 +0000

Who is this man, why is he grinning and what are his intentions with our barrel?

Riding on the coattails of the recent local wine post (assuming blog posts have coattails) we're revisiting our whisky aging project and have brought in a local artist to flog a local scotch nosing event. The man in red is none other than Douglas Beattie, Producing Artistic Director of Touchmark Theatre.

While the name many not be familiar, his works likely are. Beattie is the director of the popular Wingfield Farm series, which has played across Canada. Walt Wingfield might be stock-broker turned farmer, but Beattie is now director turned turner. (Ouch!)

Here, the good doctor gives Beattie his motivation for turning the barrel — a plug for this fundraiser.

After mining his character's emotional range, Beattie performs his role like a consummate professional.

And now it's our turn. Onto the plug...

Five high-end single malts, well-paired finger food and the nose scene from Cyrano de Bergerac. What more could you want?

Cheesecake?

Apparently so.

Hope you can make the nosing. Seating is limited but we'd love to see you. Anyone who purchases a ticket and mentions this blog will be eligible to be a guest turner. Cheesecake of choice included.

Stay tuned for future episodes where we uncask the McClelland's and give sherry a go.

Local Saturday -- wine edition

charmian.christie@gmail.com (Christie's Corner) — Sat, 04 Oct 2008 12:26:00 +0000

I've been rather lax with my weekly local food report. After a strong start with surprisingly delicious vegan cupcakes, I spluttered. However, this week I'm back on track thanks in part to a group of wine writers who are hoping to get readers to Drink Local Wine. While most of the writers are American, they graciously allowed me to join the cause.

Our mission: To discuss three noteworthy local wines. In my case, "local" means Canadian.

So, I rolled up my sleeves — and pant cuffs — and started my search for great Canadian wines by tiptoeing across the currant-splattered grounds of Niagara-on-the-Lake's Southbrook Vineyards. The photo above gives you an idea of just how messy crushing black currants can be. After sampling their wines, I wandered down the road to Sunnybrook and then headed off to Nova Scotia's Annapolis Valley. Too bad I didn't have time to sample the offerings of beautiful British Columbia. Oh well. Maybe next time...

Since you've likely tasted many of Ontario's better known whites and reds, I decided to talk about the lesser known fruit wines. The Rodney Dangerfield of alcoholic beverages, they just don't get no respect. But today's modern incarnations aren't the sickly sweet, verging-on-cough-syrup cordial your great-aunt Fanny sipped in a corner on Christmas Eve. They are respectable, well-crafted, balanced wines you just might like, providing you don't approach them as you would a merlot or chardonnay.

And as an added bonus, since fruit wines don't contain the same amount of tannins or histamines as their red cousins, the headache-prone can drink them with (relative) impunity — providing, of course, you don't over-indulge.

My article in Edible Toronto will give you some background on the evolution of Ontario fruit wines and the challenges they currently face. For those anxious to give fruit wine a try, my top Canadian fruit wine picks are:

Southbrook Vineyard's Framboise: One of the few fruit wines available at the LCBO, this port-method raspberry dessert wine is bursting with flavour. Although it pairs beautifully with chocolate, I've used it in a raspberry trifle with stellar results.
Domaine de Grand Pré's Pomme d'Or: This Nova Scotian dessert wine is like biting into a crisp fall apple. The burnt caramel finish is smooth and surprising. While it's available at Halifax's Farmers' Market (Government of Ontario take note, the world didn't end with this bold initiative), they will ship out-of-province if you email them.
Sunnybrook Farm Estate Winery's Blackcurrant Wine: This dry dinner wine is my husband's favourite. While I find it too intense to drink with dinner, its strong cassis flavour makes it ideal for poached pears and cooking. This winery has one of the widest selections of fruit wines in Ontario. You can order from their website or join their wine club.

I haven't touched on the hard ciders and award-winning wines from other area orchards. Any fruit wine enthusiasts out there who want to hear more? If so, speak up. Otherwise, I'm heading back to the wine-free Farmers' Market and researching cheese.

Italian Dessert Week - Salute

charmian.christie@gmail.com (Christie's Corner) — Fri, 03 Oct 2008 12:42:00 +0000

I want to make you tooth-breaking biscotti to dip in your cappuccino.

I want to make you flaky, sugar-dusted crostini that shatters as you bite.

I want to make you hazelnut gelato so smooth and creamy Italian phrases will roll from your tongue without effort.

But there are simply too many choices and too little time.

So, instead, I'll close Italian Dessert Week off with a glass of limoncello, Italy's canary yellow, intensely lemon liqueur.

Although this digestivio is usually made in Southern Italy, my mother fell in love with it while touring Tuscany. She now makes her own. Simply uncorking the bottle and releasing its aroma takes me back to our time in Montepulciano, Tuscany when our Neapolitan waiter insisted we accepted complimentary shots of his native drink -- after we had paid the bill and were almost out the door.

After yesterday's comments I realize classic zabaglione promises endless possibilities -- a bit like Italy itself. Which makes me wonder if Mom would be more open to a version made with her own limoncello?

Photo © foodistablog, published under a Creative Commons License.

Italian Dessert Week - Zabaglione

charmian.christie@gmail.com (Christie's Corner) — Thu, 02 Oct 2008 12:35:00 +0000

This dessert furthers my theory that Italians like to keep their hands busy. Zabaglione is no make-ahead time saver. You're frothing like a mad fiend right up to the moment of serving. And it takes a good 10 to 15 minutes of uninterrupted whipping to get the eggs to set. No meandering back to the dining room to chat with guests between steps.

While researching, I learned the traditional method involves a copper bowl and a wire whisk. I've no time to polish copper and a wrist that dislocates at the thought of hard labour, so I substituted a stainless steel bowl and an electric hand mixer. Turned out just fine.

Providing you like marsala.

For the record, reactions were split down the middle. My sister Allison and I liked this very much. She liked the airy texture. I liked how the wine burst out of nowhere. My husband? He just shrugged and made a noise that's hard to put into text. "Mmmnttpht," is the closest I can get. And my mother, a dessert hound with a sweet tooth that rivals my own? Without so much as trying a spoonful, she shook her head and announced, "No thanks! I don't like it!" I'll give her credit. She tasted my creation when she saw the disappointment shimmer in my tear-filled eyes. But it didn't change her mind. She just doesn't like marsala.

So... Zabaglione! Fun to say, a pain to make and worth the effort for a select few. Since I'm one of the select few, I'm posting the recipe. For others? Pass the Baci Brownies, a dig into a platter of cheese or just nibble on the lady fingers.

Zabaglione Serves 4

While some variations call for gelatin (huh!?!) or whipped cream, true Zabaglione is just egg yolks, sugar and wine (usually marsala, but I've seen recipes call for amaretto or muscatel). The ratio varies little and instructions always warn you to serve immediately since the dessert will separate within minutes. Serve in a fancy dish with lady fingers. The mint and miniature roses in my photo is just window dressing. Ignore them.

Ingredients

4 egg yolks
1/2 cup superfine sugar
1/2 cup marsala
innocuous biscuit of choice

Instructions

Fill a large pot halfway with water and bring to a simmer.
Meanwhile, beat yolks and sugar in a heatproof bowl until pale and creamy. I used an electric hand mixer but purists use a whisk.
Place the bowl of yolks over the hot water and gradually beat in the wine. Continue whipping until the mixture is very thick, like soft meringue, and has doubled in volume. This takes between 10 and 15 minutes.
Spoon into a stemmed glass.
Garnish with a biscuit.

Italian Dessert Week - Fig Failure

charmian.christie@gmail.com (Christie's Corner) — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 12:27:00 +0000

Photo © gardenghelle, published under a Creative Commons License.

When I was in Italy, the language barrier was more an invisible fence than an insurmountable stone wall. With a few stock phrases, a smattering of French, and emphatic hand gestures, I'd run around all day exploring without a care. But when I least expected it, I'd get zapped.

Like the time I ordered pumpkin gnocchi. I love gnocchi. I like pumpkin. Sure, I figured it would actually be some sort of squash, but I could handle that. Then a plate brimming with bright pink pasta arrived. Although the server insisted it was pumpkin, the colour and taste proved the vegetable in question was, in fact, beets. And faithful readers know how I feel about bloody beets.

Then there was the time I got brave and ordered "dove" in a high-end restaurant, assuming it was a mistranslation of pheasant or quail. Nope. I'm pretty sure the fowl I choked down was a pigeon shot from one of the statues that afternoon.

So, in a certain way my recent attempt at fig gelato is a fitting tribute to the culinary confusion I occasionally encountered. I knew all the right words -- figs, mascarpone, honey -- but something got lost in translation.

I studied various recipes from trusted sources, bought the last of the season's fresh figs and rushed home to make the gelato of my dreams. There were barely enough figs to make a whole batch so I exercised extreme discipline and didn't take so much as a nibble. But when I served the dessert -- to out of town company no less -- there was uncharacteristic silence.

The figs must have been slightly off because the gelato had an unpleasant, musky undertone. The seeds made the ice cream gritty and instead of a providing a silky smooth texture, the mascarpone was more like chalk. Could fermenting figs have curdled the dairy?

And the colour wasn't right. Every triumphant photo in the recipe books showed little balls of impossibly rich but subtle purple. Mine landed part way between insipid taupe and off-putting puce.

Even my motto, "When in doubt add booze" failed to salvage the dish. We tried drizzling scoops with apple brandy, framboise and port. No one agreed on the best topping but everyone agreed I should toss the dessert.

It was worse than the beet gnocchi, which at least looked appealing.

So, no recipe today.

Be grateful.

Instead, here's a picture of how gelato should be eaten. Italian style.

Italian Dessert Week - Baci Brownies

charmian.christie@gmail.com (Christie's Corner) — Tue, 30 Sep 2008 20:10:00 +0000

Baci chocolates are one of my all-time favourite treats. Not only do I get a mouthful of a beloved flavour combination -- chocolate and hazelnut -- each candy comes with a little love note. How wonderfully Italian.

So when I saw the recipe for Baci Brownies in Lisa Zwirn's Christmas Cookies: 50 Recipes to Treasure for the Holiday Season, I didn't care that Halloween was still a month away. And when I read the recipe's intro with her gelato-to-miles-walked ratio? Right then and there I knew she was my kind of foodie.

Yesterday, cheese lovers had their fill. Today, chocoholics will have to watch their caffeine and sugar intake. I'm sharing a decadent chocolate truffle cake for serious dark chocolate lovers only at Accidental Hedonist. And here? Lisa's given me permission to post the recipe for her chewy, hazelnut-laced brownie.

This recipe is sure to please Nutella lovers and brownie fanatics alike. And if that isn't enough, my sister, who diligently agreed to be part of my taste testing panel, says these are even better the next day. Yeah. Like that's gonna happen...

Baci Brownies
Makes 32 bars (or more)

Lisa writes: Touring around Italy many years ago, I figured that a few miles of daily walking warranted two gelatos a day. One of those was always the flavor called baci. Not only did baci sound romantic (it means "Kisses"), but the gelato paired the chocolate and hazelnut that I loved so much in the rich little candies of the same name. These fudgy brownies with a swirl of Nutella, the hazelnut-cocoa spread from Italy, plus a sprinkling of toasted hazelnuts will have everyone wanting to kiss the cook.

Ingredients

1 cup hazelnuts (about 4 1/2 ounces)
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
12 tablespoons (3/4 cup) unsalted butter
6 ounces unsweetened chocolate, coarsely chopped
2 cups sugar
3 large eggs
1 1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

Nutella swirl

1/2 cup Nutella
1 large egg
1 tablespoon all-purpose flour

Instructions

Preheat oven to 325 F. Line a 9 X 13-inch baking pan with foil, making sure there's at least a 2-inch overhang on both of the short sides. Gently press the foil into the corners. Butter the foil.
Place the hazelnuts on a small baking sheet and toast in the oven for 8 to 10 minutes, stirring once or twice, until lightly golden. Spill the nuts onto a dish towel and rub them with the towel to loosen and remove most of the skin. Transfer the nuts to a cutting board and chop coarsely.
Whisk together the flour, baking powder and salt in a small bowl.
Melt the butter and chocolate in a large saucepan over very low heat, stirring often, until smooth. Remove from the heat and whisk in the sugar. Add the eggs one at a time, whisking after each addition. Mix in the vanilla. Using a rubber spatula, stir in the flour mixture until fully incorporated, then stir in one-third of the toasted hazelnuts. Spread the batter in the prepared pan.
For the Nutella Swirl: Combine the Nutella, egg and flour in a glass measuring cup and stir with a fork until thoroughly blended. Drop small spoonfuls of the Nutella mixture evenly over the brownie batter. Use a knife to gently swirl it through the batter.
Sprinkle the remaining hazelnuts on top. Bake in the middle of the oven for 35 to 38 minutes or until the top is set and the edges have begun to pull away from the sides of the pan. Don't overbake or the edges will be dry. Cool in the pan on a rack for at least 2 hours.
Holding onto the two foil ends, lift the brownie up and onto a cutting board. Peel the foil away from the sides of the brownie. Cut lengthwise into quarters, then cut crosswise into 8 strips to yield 32 bars. Because these are so rich, you can also cut them into 10 or 12 strips to make 40 or 48 bars, respectively.
Store layered between sheets of wax paper in an airtight container for up to 4 days; or refrigerate, tightly wrapped for up to 1 week; or freeze for up to 2 months.

Brownie slicing tip: A thin-bladed knife dipped in hot water and then dried will make slicing the brownies easier. Wipe the knife clean of sticky, fudgy crumbs after each slice.

Italian Dessert Week -- Say Cheese

charmian.christie@gmail.com (Christie's Corner) — Tue, 30 Sep 2008 00:38:00 +0000

When I was visiting friends in Italy, dessert was often a platter of cheese. The local creations they presented were unique to the region. Some were even homemade. I'm ashamed to say I was often too full of gnocchi or some other delicious main course to appreciate the dairy displayed before me. If I had to do it all over again, I'd have thought ahead and saved room for the "dessert."

If you're like me, you're very familiar with Italian cooking cheeses -- mozzarella or ricotta -- but at a loss for what to place on a platter. So once again, I turn to the experts. This time Jeanette Hurt comes to the rescue. Co-author of The Complete Idiot's Guide to Cheeses of the World, Jeanette is nothing short of brilliant when it comes to fermented curd.

Not only did she give me guidance on cheese selection, she offered serving tips. While bread is a given, jam, honey and olive oil are wonderful accompaniments. Jeanette also warns that you should always serve the cheeses at room temperature to allow the full flavours to emerge.

So, here are Jeanette's top picks for an authentic Italian cheese platter:

Gorgonzola - this classic blue cheese is one of 26 patent-protected Italian cheeses. If the label says Gorgonzola it must be from the Lombardy region and be manufactured in the traditional way.
Taleggio - a stinky cheese that smells strong but tastes mild. Only true cheese lovers will appreciate this one, but if you're a formaggio fan, you'll love it.
Strachhino di Crescenza - Jeanette says she dreamed about Crescenza after she ate it. This rindless cheese if often served drizzled with olive oil. This spreadable, "oozy" and "utterly decadent" cheese is mild and goes well with honey.
Burratta - this very special cow's milk mozzarella is filled with cream and mozzarella curd. Burrini is similar but it's filled with butter.
Asiago, Percorino and Parmesan - Don't use a good quality version of any of these familiar names just for cooking. Serve them at warm to room temperature and really taste them.

Jeanette says you could taste a different cheese every day and it would still take more than a year to work through all the variations Italy has to offer. She refuses to name a favourite, likening the task to being dropped in Milan and asked to select the best pair of shoes. See, I told you she was smart.

So, does a particular Italian cheese earn a special place at your table? If so, do you like it dripping in honey, drizzled with olive oil or on its own?

Photo © cwbuecheler, published under a Creative Commons License.

Forgive me. Please.

charmian.christie@gmail.com (Christie's Corner) — Fri, 26 Sep 2008 21:17:00 +0000

There must be something wrong with me. For lunch today, I made myself a grilled cheese sandwich with 5-year-old orange cheddar on whole wheat European-style sourdough bread. And what did I do to it?

Burned it? No. It was crispy golden brown.

Dropped it? No. It made it from the skillet to the plate without incident.

Having made a sandwich from the best ingredients possible, I did this.

Yes, I ate it my gourmet lunch with ketchup. Organic ketchup, but ketchup nonetheless. I don't eat ketchup on hamburgers, hot dogs or French fries, but I can't eat grilled cheese without it. I assume it's a throw over from childhood. Oh well, at least I don't eat Velveeta anymore.

So, do you have any dirty little culinary secrets you care to share?

Group therapy or peer pressure?

charmian.christie@gmail.com (Christie's Corner) — Fri, 26 Sep 2008 00:02:00 +0000

Good things come in bunches. Like carrots.

When I saw these at the Farmers' Market I was impressed by the sheer volume. I don't think the carrots would have had the same impact if there had been only a handful. And a single carrot? Well, I don't know how I would photograph it in such a way that certain people (and you know who you are), wouldn't make rude comments.

While I'm comfortable talking food, I'm not so comfortable photographing it. Despite improvements since the first amateur and slightly out of focus attempts I foist upon you, I feel a sense of sameness creeping into my pictures. How many tilt angle food shots can one person take? To date, I'm up to 124 thanks to a bad bout of photographer's block with my ice cream project.

So, I'm taking an online photography course and will be posting the assignment pictures on another blog for people who wish to comment. I've been promising myself I'll do the lessons all summer, but like the lone carrot, no photos resulted. So, I'm taking the inspirational bunches approach. Between recruiting my sister Robin for face-to-face help, fellow writer Carolyn Erickson for online accountability, and announcing it publicly here on my blog, I just might get past lesson one.

So, if you're curious, feel free to drop by my Wordpress photo project starting in October.

And Katharine, don't worry. Italian desserts are coming next week. Promise.

Brilliante Weblog Premio 2008

charmian.christie@gmail.com (Christie's Corner) — Wed, 24 Sep 2008 11:30:00 +0000

I'm chuffed. And confused.

Recently, Lisa from Magic Sprinkles nominated me for a Brillante Weblog thingy. (See the logo on the left.) This pleases me immensely since Lisa's blog can be pretty funny, especially when she has disastrous results with cake balls.

I'm confused because I'm not sure what to call Brillante. Is it an award? A way to spread good karma? A cleverly disguised chain letter? I Googled and never did find the website that started the whole thing. However, it comes with no threats and looks like a good natured way to promote fellow bloggers.

Since this is a pay-it-forward thumbs up, not a winner-take-all prize, it's my turn to tag the next round of Brillante Bloggers.

According to the rules, the recipients are asked to:

Post the logo on his/her blog. (✓Check!)
Link the person you received your award from. (✓Check!)
Nominate at least 7 other blogs. (✓Check! See below.)
Put links of those blogs on yours. (✓Check!)
Leave a message on the blogs of the people you’ve nominated. (Hmmm. I'm on the road. Let's hope they've set a Google Alert on their blog name. Otherwise, I'll do it when I get back.)

In keeping with request #3, I hereby pass the virtual baton to the following Brillante Bloggers -- in alphabetical order to ensure no squabbling:

5 Second Rule for amazing photography and intriguing story lines
A Mingling of Tastes for understanding the importance of fig ice cream and chipotle brownies
Confessions of a Cardamom Addict for her killer cookbook reviews and snappy writing
Dana McCauley for teaching me something new almost every single day
Haiku Diaries for showing me amazing snapshots of life in three short lines
Word Count for embracing social networking but drawing the line at Twitter
Yarn Harlot for knowing there's more to life than food -- there's wool and needles and patterns and stash...

I know I've missed many, many worthy blogs. Who would you nominate?

Marty's Muskoka Maple Pie

charmian.christie@gmail.com (Christie's Corner) — Tue, 23 Sep 2008 12:00:00 +0000

I'm blogging about pastry today at Accidental Hedonist. Since I was testing a new recipe and had to fill the crust with something, I chose Muskoka Maple Pie from Marty Curtis's World Famous Cookbook: Secrets from the Muskoka Landmark Café.

I have a soft spot for the Muskoka's (aka Ontario's Cottage Country), having spent many summer vacations there with my friend Joanne. Since, as the Travel Muskoka site says, this region is the size of a small European country, it should be no surprise the pie bearing its name is large enough to feed a minor nation.

You see, the recipe's creator, Marty Curtis, likes things big. His $15 Grilled Cheese sandwich towers, his butter tarts are the size of a softballs and his Big Ass pies are... big ass. They're 16 inches wide, 4 inches deep and hold the equivalent of two, count 'em, TWO 10-inch, deep-dish pies.

While his pies are impressive, I find Marty himself inspiring. Despite being extremely clear he's not a chef, Marty's earned kudos from The Food Network's Chef Michael Smith and caught the attention of Mario Batali. Oh, there's hope for me yet.

If that thought isn't sweet enough, here's his recipe for pie. Consider it a brush with greatness.

Marty's Muskoka Maple Pie

Excerpted with permission from Marty’s World Famous Cookbook: Secrets from the Muskoka Landmark Café (page 174) Whitecap Books

Makes 1 single-crust Big Ass Pie or two 10-inch, deep dish pies (Note: Recipe can be halved.)

Marty says: When we introduced this pie to our customers it was an instant hit. After people finish a piece in the café, they often take a piece home for other members of their family. One couple even doubled-back one and a half hours out of their way while on their vacation to pick up another piece. Give it a try.

Crust Ingredients:

1 recipe Century-Old Nuns’ Pastry Dough

Filling Ingredients:

6 eggs
2¼ cups pure maple syrup
1½ cups granulated sugar
1½ cups brown sugar, packed
1½ cups 2% milk
1½ cups butter, melted
3 tsp vanilla
3 cups flaked or shredded sweetened coconut
2¼ cups rolled oats
1½ cups chopped walnuts

Directions:

Preheat oven to 375°F.
Prepare a pie shell using two-thirds of the pastry dough. Place the pie shell in a Marty’s pan. (Freeze the remaining one-third of the dough for later use.) OR use one-third per 10-inch, deep dish pie plate.
In a large bowl, combine the eggs, maple syrup, sugars, milk, butter, and vanilla.
Mix in the coconut, oats, and walnuts and pour into the unbaked pie shell. Bake for 60–75 minutes for Marty's pan or 45-50 minutes for 10-inch pies. Cook until a cake tester inserted in the centre comes out clean. Cool in the pan.
Serve slightly warm with fresh whipped cream and then sit back and watch what happens. Enjoy.

Ioan Gruffudd and Welsh Rarebit

charmian.christie@gmail.com (Christie's Corner) — Mon, 22 Sep 2008 12:00:00 +0000

Who is Ioan Gruffudd (pronounced YO-an GRIF-th), star of Horatio Hornblower, Fantastic Four, and Amazing Grace, talking to? It could be yours truly.

You'll have to take my word for it since the little audio clip I'd prepared refuses to upload. Something about needing a podcast host.

Anyway, why did Ioan Gruffudd call? I'd like to say he's a big fan, but it's actually the other way around. And no, I didn't win some obscure, talk-to-a-celebrity-whose-name-is-misspelled-as-often-as-yours contest. I was interviewing him for an article.

If you want more of our conversation, read my Q&A at Film Gecko.

If you just can't get enough of that Welsh accent, listen to him recite a poem in his native tongue.

And if you're hungry, try some melted cheese on toast. This classic comfort food is called Welsh Rarebit or Welsh Rabbit. Don't worry. Unless Ioan calls me everyday, Welsh Week just ain't gonna happen. However, since this is a food blog, I'm posting a link to this Welsh dish in honour of this dishy Welsh actor. Canadian Living has a simple recipe here.

If you'll excuse me, I'm heading back to YouTube to hear some more of that delightful accent.

Photo is from The TV Set, courtesy 20th Century Fox.

Italian Week - Spaghetti and Meatballs

charmian.christie@gmail.com (Christie's Corner) — Fri, 19 Sep 2008 12:06:00 +0000

I don't have a drop of Italian blood in me. Fortunately, Debbie does. And with typical Italian generosity, she shares her family's spaghetti and meatball secrets. It's a true family recipe, not one ripped from the pages of a magazine and incorporated into family lore over time. How do I know? Until earlier this month, when Debbie made a batch with her mom and recorded the details, it had not been written down anywhere. Ah, the sign of a true cook.

Also, you'll notice there are no onions. Not in the meatballs. Not in the sauce. When I asked Debbie if this was correct, she said, "I asked my mom the same question. She said, 'Absolutely no onions.' My dad hates them." So, there are no onions. Add them if you must. Just don't tell Debbie's dad.

While meatballs didn't intimidated me as much as with gnocchi, I'd never made them before and wasn't sure what the final dish would look like. They weren't tricky, but I'm getting the firm impression that Italians like to keep their hands busy. If they're not rolling gnocchi or forming meatballs, they're stirring risotto. I can see why the slow food movement started in Italy. You just can't rush these things.

I also did some experimenting. Debbie's recipe calls for dried oregano, but I have fresh growing right outside my kitchen door and just had to give it a try. So I made half a batch with each. To identify which batch was which, I shaped the meatballs differently. Half I made in 1 1/2 inch rounds. The other half I made into 2 X 3 inch oblongs, which is how Debbie's mother makes them. While both shapes worked well, the dried oregano was more flavourful. Who knew?

While Andrew is thrilled I've finally gotten to the meat, dessert lovers are likely scratching their heads. It's Friday and we're still on mains? Don't panic. There will be sweet treats later. You have to digest dinner first.

Spadafore Spaghetti and Meatballs
Serves 4

Italian Meatballs
Makes 24 small meatballs (1 1/2 inch rounds) or 12 large meatballs (3X2" oblongs)
Ingredients

1 lb. ground beef
1/2 lb. ground pork
2 eggs
1 cup fine bread crumbs
3 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 to 2 tbsp dried oregano
1/2 cup chopped parsley (optional)
1 cup Romano cheese, grated
salt and pepper to taste
enough water to form balls, but still stays together (I didn't need to add any)

Instructions

Mix all ingredients together and form into balls. The mixture should be a little soft but not too mushy.
Either fry in oil, in a frying pan, until crusty brown (this is the method Debbie's mother always used) or place on tray lined with parchment paper and bake in 350 degree oven for ½ an hour.
The cooked meatballs can be put in sauce or eaten as is on top of a plate of spaghetti.

Spaghetti Sauce

Ingredients

1/2 lb meaty beef short ribs, or stewing beef (more if desired )
1/2 lb ground beef
1 tbsp olive oil
4 cloves garlic, chopped
2 (28 oz) cans ground tomatoes
1 (5.5 oz) can tomato paste
1 tbsp dried oregano
1 bay leaf
1/2 cup Romano cheese, grated
1/2 tsp chili pepper flakes
salt & pepper to taste
up to 1 cup water (if needed)
1 (1 lb) package dried spaghetti

Instructions

Brown ground beef and ribs/stewing beef in the olive oil.
Add chopped garlic.
Stir in remaining ingredients and simmer uncovered for 2 hours. Add extra water if the sauce thicken too quickly.
Note: I like the bright acidity of tomato sauce, but not everyone does. Debbie suggested adding some baking soda to cut the acidity. Many people use sugar, but a splash of red wine will also do the trick -- and it's authentic.
When the sauce is ready, prepare spaghetti according to package instructions.
Serve the pasta with meatballs covered in sauce.
Add extra cheese if desired.

Italian Week -- Butternut Gnocchi

charmian.christie@gmail.com (Christie's Corner) — Thu, 18 Sep 2008 12:08:00 +0000

Not bad for a first try.

Gnocchi has intimidated me ever since I visited friends in Italy and returned from a day of sight seeing to find my hosts and their entire kitchen covered in flour. While I was touring the colosseum in Verona, they'd spent the afternoon making enough gnocchi to feed a Roman legion. They served me bowls heaped with melt-in-your-mouth gnocchi and watched me eat it. At no other time did anyone watch for my reaction so intently. And this happened not once, but twice. By the time I left Italy I was under the distinct impression gnocchi was a labour of love. And I wasn't sure I had that kind of amoré in me.

Turns out I do. See...

I was going to attempt the classic potato gnocchi but had so much butternut squash left over from yesterday's risotto I decided to give this autumn vegetable another go. It wasn't as hard or as messy as I feared, but the rolling took a bit of practice. I simply rolled the pieces down the back of a floured fork like my Italian hosts did. You can buy ridged gnocchi paddles but the fork worked just fine. The trick was to follow through with the roll, otherwise the dough squishes.

The main stumbling block was the sauce. I tried the classic butter and herb sauce. I tried it with sage. I tried it with sage and garlic. I tried melted butter. I tried browned butter. Each time I sampled with or without Parmesan. They were all pleasant but missing that "something." Then I got the bright ideas to look over Joyce Goldstein's risotto recipe again. She mentioned the option of lightening the dish with a classic gremolata -- a mixture of lemon zest, parsley and garlic. Presto! The dish needed lemon!

Butternut Gnocchi with Lemon Sage Butter
Serves 4 to 6 (as a side dish)

Gnocchi

2 cups butternut squash, peeled and diced into large chunks
2 tbsp butter
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 egg yolk
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp nutmeg, freshly ground
black pepper to taste, freshly ground

Sauce

1/2 cup butter
1/4 cup whole fresh sage leaves
zest of 1 large lemon, grated
1/2 cup Parmesan, grated

Instructions

Cook squash in boiling water until tender.
Gently puree squash by pressing through a sieve or gently mashing with a potato masher.
Put puree into a large sauce pan with 2 tbsp butter. Cook gently, stirring until the squash has dried a bit. Then remove from heat.
Add the flour, yolk, nutmeg, salt and pepper. Mix until combined and the dough forms a soft ball. You might need to add more flour if it's sticky.
Knead a few times on a floured board and let rest 10 minutes or so.
Pat the dough into a rectangle about 1/2" thick. Cut the gnocchi in strips about as wide as your index finger. Roll the strip in flour to coat. Cut each strip into a bite-sized piece.
Roll the piece down a fork, pressing lightly with your finger.
Put a large pot of water onto boil.
As the water heats, make the sauce by melting the butter in a small sauce pan along with the sage. Simmer for a minute. Remove from heat and stir in lemon zest.
Cook the gnocchi in boiling water, adding only a few at a time so the water doesn't cool.
When the gnocchi is done, it rises to the surface. Remove with a slotted spoon.
Drizzle with sauce and sprinkle with Parmesan.

Italian Week -- Butternut Risotto

charmian.christie@gmail.com (Christie's Corner) — Wed, 17 Sep 2008 12:48:00 +0000

Italian cuisine can be full of surprises. Despite calling for two whole tablespoons of minced garlic, this dish is sweet and unexpectedly subtle.

Too subtle for some. Like my father, who diplomatically suggested I shouldn't bother making it again but was open to lemon pie. Or my husband who wanted me to toss in some spicy Italian sausage.

Initially I was confused by their reactions since I really liked it. But eventually we figured out it didn't lack flavour, it lacked salt. I tend to under-salt things and had seasoned with pepper only. But this is one dish were you need to add a touch at the table. A sprinkle of salt and a generous shake of cheese and we were back on track.

The second surprise was how hard it was to find a decent dish combining butternut squash and rice. I'd promised my friend Rachel a recipe based on this combination, but hit the gastronomic equivalent of writer's block when trying to create something new for her. Stodgy casseroles and done-to-death soups left me wondering if I'd lost my culinary mojo. Then I found this recipe while researching Italian week.

The third surprise was its origin. This recipe comes from Joyce Goldstein's Cucina Ebraica: Flavors of the Italian Jewish Kitchen.

No, an Italian Jew is not an oxymoron. Rome is home to the oldest Jewish population in the world.

Anyway, my extended family agrees this is not a stand-alone dish, but would make a complimentary side for fish or chicken. Andrew still wants to mix in some spicy Italian sausage. Ignore him. Adding hunks of highly-seasoned meat is his answer to almost every culinary dilemma. No surprise there.

Butternut Squash Risotto
Serves 4 to 6

Ingredients

6 cups vegetable broth (I used low-sodium chicken stock and it was fine)
2 1/2 to 3 cups butternut squash, in 1/2 inch cubes
3 tbsp olive oil (or part olive oil, part unsalted butter)
2 tbsp garlic, chopped
2 tbsp fresh sage, chopped
2 cups Arborio rice
1/2 cup white wine (I was out and substituted dry Vermouth)
1/2 cup Parmesan cheese, grated
salt and pepper to taste

Instructions

Bring broth to a gentle simmer in a saucepan. Add squash to broth to cook while you make the risotto.
In a large, deep sauté pan, warm olive oil/butter over medium heat.
Add garlic and sage and sauté a few minutes.
Add rice and cook, stirring until opaque.
Add white wine and cook until the liquid evaporates. Reduce heat so mixture doesn't brown.
Add a ladle of broth (without squash) and stir into the rice until absorbed. Keep adding the broth one ladle at a time, allowing the rice to absorb the liquid each time. Do this until the rice is cooked al dente and all but one ladleful of broth is absorbed. This should take 15 to 20 minutes.
Add the simmered squash with the last ladle of broth.
Stir in 1/4 cup Parmesan.
Salt and pepper to taste.
Sprinkle with remaining Parmesan and serve immediately.

Italian Week -- Marinated Olives

charmian.christie@gmail.com (Christie's Corner) — Tue, 16 Sep 2008 13:50:00 +0000

Reviewing my Italian week line-up, I realized that unless you're carb-loading for a marathon, you'll need a break from the starch I'm about to foist upon you before the week's over. Stromboli, risotto, spaghetti and gnocchi are all wonderful, but I can feel my waistband stretching at the very thought.

Since I'm blogging about beer today at Accidental Hedonist, I thought I'd give you a salty, spicy snack to go with the brew. And gorgeous Italian olives fit the bill. Even Atkins devotees can indulge in this, low-carb, heart-healthy antipasto.

This is my own variation of two olive recipes from Viana La Place's Verdura: Vegetables Italian Style. Inflamed Green Olives (Olive Verdi Infocate) were on one page and Perfumed Black Olives (Olive Profumate) on the other, and since I can't resist the spicy mixed olives from the local Italian green grocer's, I thought I'd toss the two together and see what happened. In sampling, I reduced the chile and bumped up the orange. The results were delicious even if they created a whole new problem -- The dish lacks an authentic name.

My Italian consists mainly of emphatic gestures and bad French spoken in what's most likely an even worse Sicilian accent. So, what's Italian for Spicy Mixed Olives with Garlic and Orange? Francesca, can you help? Anyone?

In the meantime, mangia, mangia!

Potentially Unauthentic Spicy Mixed Olives with Garlic and Orange
Makes 2 cups

Ingredients

1 cup green olives in brine, drained
1 cup black olives in brine, drained
1/2 red chile pepper, seeded and minced
2 cloves garlic, crushed
zest of 1 orange
1 tbsp fresh thyme (I used lemon thyme)
extra-virgin olive oil, enough to moisten olives

Instructions

Toss everything together in a pretty bowl.
Let flavours mingle for a couple of hours -- if you can wait that long.
Serve at room temperature with bread.

Italian Week - Stromboli

charmian.christie@gmail.com (Christie's Corner) — Mon, 15 Sep 2008 11:56:00 +0000

It's Italian week and I'm more than a little intimidated. You could spend a lifetime studying its regional dishes and only take a small bite out of the country's offerings. Where do I start? What should I cover? Can I do The Boot justice?

So, to start the week off right, I turned to a pro -- Dana McCauley. Cookbook author, chef and food consultant, Dana generously shared her recipe for Stromboli, a delicious and innovative take on pizza.

What's Stromboli? Dana describes it as "a Philadelphia pizza specialty that is somewhat similar to an open ended, large-size calzone. This folded pizza is named for a particularly active volcano located near Sicily, Italy because, as the Stromboli bakes, the cheese and sauce often flow out of the ends like a delicious, savory lava."

She calls this dish a "conversation starter" since it got her school-age son and his friend talking about volcanoes and Italian geography. Delicious, nutritious and educational? You can't beat that combination.

In true Italian-style generosity, Dana provided not one, but three recipes (one for the Stromboli, one for her pizza dough and one for her pizza sauce) and is sharing her research on top ethnic cuisines in Canada on her blog today.

I feel like I've been given a big hug and a kiss on both cheeks.

Family-sized Stromboli
Serves 4

Keep the ingredient combinations simple for Stromboli so that the eruptions aren’t so severe that the finished dish is an absolute mess to handle. Ideally the finished Stromboli will be easy to pick up and to eat out of hand after a brief cooling period.

1 portion pizza dough (recipe follows)
2 cups (500 mL) shredded mozzarella cheese
1/2 cup (125 mL) shredded or grated Parmesan cheese
2/3 cup (125 mL) basic pizza sauce (recipe follows)
1/2 cup (125 mL) thinly sliced pepperoni
1 egg, beaten
1/2 tsp (2 mL) poppy seeds

Preheat the oven to 450 F (225 C). Roll or stretch the dough out into a large rectangle, about 11 x 15 inches (27.5 x 37 cm). Place the dough on a greased, baking sheet.
Blend the cheeses and reserve. Spread the sauce down the center of the rectangle, leaving a wide, uncovered border of dough along each side. Sprinkle a little cheese and a layer of pepperoni over the sauce. Repeat the layers until all of the cheese and pepperoni have been used.
Fold one side of the dough over the filling and brush the edge with egg. Fold over the other side to overlap the dough like folding a letter. Pinch the seam to gently seal the dough together, leaving the ends open. Brush the top of the stromboli evenly with beaten egg and sprinkle evenly with poppy seeds.
Using a sharp knife, cut slashes every two or three inches down the length of the dough. Bake for about 20 minutes or until the stromboli is golden brown and the cheese is bubbling at the ends. Cool for about 10 minutes before slicing into thick portions. Makes 4 servings

Top Ten Table Pizza Dough:

1 1/2 cups (375 mL) all-purpose flour
1 tsp (5 mL) quick rising yeast
3/4 tsp (4 mL) salt
1 tbsp (15 mL) honey
1 1/2 tsp (7 mL) olive oil
1/2 cup (125 mL) very warm water between 105 to 115 F (43 C to 47 C)

Blend the flour, yeast and salt in a food processor fitted with a metal blade; add the honey and oil or butter. With the motor running, drizzle in water; mix for 1 minute or just until a ball forms.
Knead the dough on a lightly floured surface into a smooth ball; transfer the dough to a lightly oiled bowl, turning to coat it all over with oil. Cover and let the dough rise for 30 minutes. Stretch the dough into a circle about 12-inches (33 cm) in diameter and transfer to a lightly floured pizza pan or baking sheet; fold under the edge to make a rim. If time permits, let the dough rest for 30 minutes in the refrigerator before topping.

Top Ten Table Pizza Sauce:

2 tbsp (30 mL) extra virgin olive oil
1 onion, peeled and finely chopped
1 carrot peeled and finely chopped
1 stalk celery, finely chopped
1/4 cup (50 mL) chopped fresh parsley
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 cup (125 mL) chopped fresh basil
1 tbsp (15 mL) each chopped fresh thyme and oregano
3 (28 oz) cans diced tomatoes or 2 1/2 lb (1 kg) peeled, seeded chopped Roma tomatoes
1/2 tsp (2 mL) each salt and pepper
1 tsp (5 mL) each granulated sugar and red wine vinegar (approx)

Sauce: Heat the oil in Dutch oven set over medium heat. Add the onion, celery, carrot and parsley. Cook, stirring occasionally, for 5 minutes. Stir in garlic, basil, thyme and oregano. Cook, stirring often, for 5 minutes.
Add the tomatoes and stir until well combined. Bring to a boil. Reduce the temperature to low and simmer for 20 to 30 minutes or until tomatoes are cooked down. Stir in the salt and pepper. Taste and add sugar and vinegar as required to balance the flavors. Cool to room temperature. Puree the sauce mixture in batches if necessary in a food processor or blender. Makes 2 cups (500 mL). (Recipe doubles or triples easily.)

Recipes from Dana's Top Ten Table: 200 Fresh Takes on Family-Favourite Meals. Published by HarperCollins Publishers Ltd. Copyright © 2007 by Dana McCauley. All rights reserved. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.

Local Foods -- not!

charmian.christie@gmail.com (Christie's Corner) — Sun, 14 Sep 2008 22:23:00 +0000

So much for my Saturday post about local foods. Instead of stands overflowing with fresh produce, these were some of my dining options. While I just happened to be stranded in rain-drenched Chicago O'Hare International Airport, it could have been almost any mall food court in North America.

After a week of northwest Michigan's fresh heirloom tomatoes, ripe peaches and straight-off-the-cob corn, I couldn't bring myself to eat fast food. My compromise was a gourmet Wolfgang Puck's pizza. Verdict: too much cheese, too much salt and plastic tomatoes. I should have known.

The next time I'm 12 hours into a stopover, I'm going to check my palate along with my luggage and dig into a great big bag of M&M peanuts. At least my inner child will be happy.

If you had $10, a half a day and nothing but food court fare, what form would your caloric intake assume?

Now I've seen everything

charmian.christie@gmail.com (Christie's Corner) — Fri, 12 Sep 2008 11:00:00 +0000

Well, someone has a sense of humour.

I hope.

The devil's in the details

charmian.christie@gmail.com (Christie's Corner) — Thu, 11 Sep 2008 12:16:00 +0000

I expect paper napkins when I'm eating at a hole-in-the-wall that serves the best Chinese food in town. Uneven table legs propped up by coasters, half-filled ketchup bottles and packaged jams are part of the family diner experience. At this kind of restaurant, as long as the food is good and the wait staff friendly, I'm a happy customer.

But fine dining establishments? Designer decor, mood lighting and a host draping a napkin across my lap are little more than posing when the details scream lunchtime deli. (On second thought, let me deal with the napkin myself. It creeps me out to have a stranger that near my bikini line.)

When I'm at a chi-chi restaurant, the following are the equivalent of finding gum under the table. It's all nice on the crisp linen surface until they...

Serve butter in foil packets: I don't need my dairy piped into ramekins, but if I have to unwrap my butter I wonder what other prepackaged items are making their way onto the menu. (Sugar packets fall under this category, too.)
Recycle my cutlery: I cringe when servers clear my plate and place my used utensils on the table for the next course. Setting them delicately on the butter plate is no better.
Neglect the bathrooms: Cracked toilet handles, chipped sinks and stall doors with broken locks make me lose my appetite. One-ply toilet paper is equally unimpressive.
End the evening with cheap mints: I always feel cheated when a big bill comes with industrial white and red (or green) striped mints. I'd rather have nothing than the disappointment of bad candy.

Am I the only one who finds this kind of thing unacceptable when dinner for two blows the week's grocery budget? What little things knock a high-end restaurant off its high horse for you?