While I do not do restaurant reviews or “serious” essays on IslandEAT, I have been thinking about a recent fine-dining “locavore” experience at the Willows Inn, Lummi Island, Washington.  It was one of New York Times’ 10 Restaurants Worth a Plane Ride.  This is a lofty honour for a restaurant on an obscure island of 800 year-round residents off Bellingham, WA.

If you are not familiar with the term – in its most simplistic definition  – “locavore” refers to a person who focuses on local, in-season foods, in large part or exclusively.  The philosophy behind this “locavorean” ideal is that local foods:

1.  Taste better, as they have not traveled tremendous distances.
2. Work better together, as they are from the same area/region.
3. Feature high nutritional value: they are fresh, seasonal, and often organic.
4. Benefit the environment more, due to less packaging and transportation.
5. Create less waste (see #4) and are to satisfy – but not stuff.
6. Support local economies, small farmers, and independent growers.
7. Represent how humans – or other animals – are meant to eat.

The above definition is my explanation and understanding of what constitutes a “locavorean” approach to eating.  It is one that makes sense to me as well as one I try to follow, to a large extent.  For me, I cannot find – or “source” – locally produced citrus, avocados, olive oil, cocoa/chocolate, vanilla beans, coffee, and tea (black, green, or white, that is, as opposed to herbal teas or tisanes).  Hence, I am not a hard-line “locavore”, as I have not stopped consuming these staples – at least staples in my kitchen.

Salmon comes from the Gulf Islands, though the lemon does not...

However, I eat only blackberries I have picked, as they are free and abundant in the Gulf Islands; buy eggs – all free-range/grain-fed/organic – just a 20-minute walk up the road; and have harvested nettles for cooking.   It is rare that I have any fish or shell fish from outside the seafood-rich waters of British Columbia, even some of which comes from right off this island.  (Here are some of my favourite recipes for maple-ginger-soy salmon, salmon chowder, halibut with lime-ginger-cayenne, halibut cheeks, and scallops in brown butter with hazelnuts.)  Last week, I had eaten lamb raised on a farm on the other side of the bay, which I can see right from our house.  So that is pretty good, as far as “locavores” go.  I am privileged to live in a place where all this is possible.

For the “non-review”, keep reading…

When the New York Times named Willows Inn one of the Top 10 Restaurants Worth a Plane Trip for 2011, I thought it would be fun to check out this place – besides, it would give me another island to add to my list….so off we went on my recent birthday.  Here is the profile of 24-year-old chef-wunderkind, Blaine Wetzel, from the Willows Inn’s site.  Before coming to the Willows Inn last year, Blaine had worked for René Redzepi at Copenhagen’s Noma, the top restaurant in the world, according to some.

The five-course prix fixe chef’s tasting menu is $70 (though it will rise to $85 in high-season – and I bet it will go up from there, due to the demand).  It is a very good value, as these things go.  All the food was creative, well-prepared, and nicely presented on pottery, produced, one assumes, by a local artisan.  To understand their approach better, here is Chef Blaine ‘splainin’ it all to you via video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WomwVG-1nQU. 

After four amuse-bouches during the course of one hour, the five courses arrived, with plenty, if not too much time, in between.  Then there was an after-dessert treat.  It turned into a three-and-a-half hour dining experience.  This is fine for those who were staying at the Inn, but for those who had to drive back to Seattle or Vancouver, with an hourly ferry schedule, it was a bit drawn-out.

However, I do have some issues around this kind of meal philosophically in the “locavorean context” (how very academic of me).   The two primary issues for me were the origins of some drinks and the volume of the meal.

If you are not familiar with the British Columbia/Pacific Northwest wine super-region, you might not know that some of the best North American wines – or anywhere – come from this area.  So why, I must ask, would the Willows Inn serve Prosecco, which comes from Italy, to guests at the beginning of the meal?  There are fine sparkling wines from B.C., Washington, and Oregon. Of the optional wine pairings, the majority were not from the region, nor were most of the liquors served during the cocktail hour.  While such local wines might cost more (and the Prosecco was complimentary), it is an odd choice for a restaurant which espouses the “locavore” approach.

Similarly, the restaurant offered black-green-white teas and coffee.  While all the food may be local, coffee and tea certainly are not.  This is not the same issue as the wine, but it is a philosophical point which contradicts the emphasis on the food.  To their credit, however, there was an optional juice pairing of house-made juices to accompany the meal; these were all very local.

The other point is excess.  The bread offered was wonderful, but the over-zealous and well-trained staff removed the bread basket when it had a piece or two left, only to be replaced by more, without asking.  We had a cocktail, the gratis Prosecco, and a glass of wine with one of the five courses, and this seemed to be more than enough.  I can only imagine how absolutely drunk  those who had the five different wine pairing must have been, after the Prosecco (and possibly a cocktail or two before the meal). This strikes me as contradictory to the locavore philosophy or “waste not, want not”.

Five courses, combined with the four amuse-bouches, endless bread, and a post-dessert sweet of a caramel with flax-seed, with drinks, are quite a bit for one meal.  In fact, I would hazard to guess that it was simply far too much food for most adults, especially ending so late in the evening.  This would contradict the “locavore” approach to healthful, adequate yet moderate consumption.

My last point is that I had not intended to do a restaurant review.  I appreciate the writing of qualified, professional food critics as well as using Zagat guides (I contributed to past Vancouver and Chicago editions).  While I have some familiarity with fine-dining and have eaten at some of the world’s best restaurants in places like Paris, New York, Chicago, Seattle, and Vancouver, I am not a food critic.

I did not take photos, so the ones here are mine of the Gulf Islands scenery, which is not unlike the area around Lummi Island, further south of my island.  I must mention observing a small woman, seated at the most prominent table at the Willows Inn, who used flash photography to capture every item she ate…not to mention that I noticed she been enjoying the wine-pairings, so much so that she was “all over” her dining companion by evening’s end.

Home - at last - after eating too much "locavore" cuisine....

This is an odd piece to write, as I still think it was an exceptional meal. Nonetheless, I did not feel particularly well afterwards due to the quantities and the next day felt exhausted.  Perhaps I am not meant to have tasting menus these days (Anthony Bourdain has written about his dislike of them, so it is not just me…), but I do wonder about the whole “locavore” approach and how that translates – or not – into fine dining.

I have been posting on IslandEAT for nearly one-and-a-half years ago – without any requests to do a guest post yet.  However, George and Jinja did an April Fools cat-food blog, but they already have their first guest cat food-blogger, Moby (AKA, “Mobesity Dog-Roast”).

Read about Moby and his many food issues on I Can Haz Food Blog?

IslandEAT will return with human-appropriate food matters shortly.

Are you looking for an avocado sandwich recipe? I was not really until I came across a recipe in Australia’s glorious gastro-porn, delicious.

In fact, I have hesitated to post about sandwiches, as they seem, um, well, so easy and straightforward.  So why bother?  Then this month’s Saveur arrived: The Sandwich Issue.  I happened to note that this excellent, wide-ranging, and thorough overview of (mostly American) sandwiches did not have many of the avocado varieties I often eat.

Avocado is one of the best sandwich ingredients I have come to realize over the years.  In fact, I myself have developed a number of avocado sandwiches varieties – more or less variations and permutations of other classics.

For instance, instead of a classic bacon-lettuce-and-tomato, I use prosciutto, a bit of mayonnaise, avocado, and tomato – faster, easier, and less messy than cooking bacon. This is one of my favourite sandwiches.  I serve it on sourdough, wholegrain, or even challah, for real decadence.  In my feeble attempt to mitigate the sandwich’s fat content, I remove the white lardy edges of the prosciutto and offer it to Jinja and George (who, BTW, might continue their April Fools Day food blog, I Can Haz Food Blog, due to interest from readers of IslandEAT).  These two cats sure love their prosciutto!

One sandwich I have developed of late is kind of a French tartine, with slow-roasted garlic spread over Dijon mustard on a multigrain flatbread or crackers, topped with a sliced avocado fanned out in wedges.  Sea salt (fleur de sel works especially well) and scads of freshly cracked black pepper are all you need for a great snack, brunch option, or lunch.  The tangy mustard and and nutty sweetness of the roasted garlic are superb complements for the rich creaminess of the avocado and the crunchy counterpoint of the flatbread – and vegan, vegetarian, and very healthful, too!

For the recipe – and the review…

As for the avocado, tomato, and mint sandwich, I was surprised by how different it was from other sandwiches I have had.  The olive oil, mint, and lime work unusually well in highlighting both the avocado and tomato.   However, none of them overpower the subtlety of the fruits (I do not have to tell you that both tomatoes and avocados are actually classified as fruit, right?).  Nor do the components overwhelm the eater with any one particular element, in highjacking the sandwich – as can be the case with certain mustards.  It is a fresh and refreshing sandwich, which is a perfect for lunch in warmer weather al fresco, when tomatoes are at their peak.  But I will admit to having made this sandwich first mid-winter (not exactly a locavorean triumph in the Gulf Islands, I will admit).

I used a dark rye bread, though a light rye could work.  Yet the heartiness of the darker Russian variety makes a bold brown visual and gustatory partner to the smooth pale green and juicy red interior.

When you are in need of a quick but healthful sandwich, give this one a whirl or try one of the avocado variants above for a departure from your sandwich routine.

Avocado, Tomato, and Mint on Dark Rye Bread, adapted from Australia’s delicious. (April 2010), serves four

Ingredients

• 1 ripe avocado, halved, pit removed and sliced in the the peel
• 2 large ripe tomatoes
• 8 thick slices dark rye bread
• 2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
• A good handful of mint leaves, torn a bit, if you like
• Lettuce leaves (softer varieties, e.g., butter , green or red), optional but a nice touch
• 1 lime, cut into wedges

Directions

1. Slice the avocado evenly lengthways, keeping the slices together. Cut the tomatoes in half, then slice each half evenly, keeping the slices together.
2. Toast thick slices of the rye bread, as you like, then lightly brush with the extra virgin olive oil (about one-half tablespoon per sandwich).
3. Place one quarter of the avocado and a tomato half on four slices of toast, fanning the slices out slightly.
4. Scatter with mint, sea salt and lots of freshly ground black pepper.
5. Squeeze the lime on the avocado, slap on the optional lettuce, if using, and close up your sandwich.
6. Serve with a good deli pickle (it couldn’t hurt, now, could it?).

George and Jinja, who have more time to post than I these days, would like to announce their new cat-food blog, I Can Haz Food Blog? Check it out.

IslandEAT will return next week with human recipes.

Are you looking for yet another brownie recipe? I was not, until I had come across one with a very unusual technique from the great Alice Medrich.

I though my brownie recipe collection to be complete, what with the extravaganza that is Ina Garten’s Outrageous Brownies, my grandmother Jessie’s very gooey double-chocolate brownie, the original 1897 brownie recipe, or the spectacular iced double-chocolate, double-malt brownies.  Really, I was not seeking another one for my arsenal.  After all, I have an entire cookbook dedicated to brownie recipes and a number of tried-and-true versions, with which I am completely satisfied.

However, I had borrowed Ms. Medrich’s book from the library, in an attempt to read more library cookbooks, rather than my habit of buying more and more.  This particular recipe jumped out at me.  Apparently, an acquaintance of hers named “Steve” rescued a batch of brownies from an oven which was much too high (or on fire – the author was not sure which) and immediately plunged the pan into an ice-water bath. Ms. Medrich relates that the brownies turned out to be very creamy, far from dry, with a chewy crust.  Thus, the “Steve ritual” intrigued me enough to try yet another recipe.

I had returned last week from a trip to Connecticut to visit my family, with a bit of time in New York; the latter destination was a day on my own for, in pursuit of evaluating the top cookies in the city at Levain Bakery and Momofuku’s Milk Bar.  I enjoyed my comparative taste-testing of Levain’s famed dark-chocolate-chocolate chip cookie and David Chang’s even better-known “compost cookies”.  This was most fun – actually it was a highlight of my trip – not to imply that seeing my family is not fun…

When I needed to make brownies for a potluck baby shower in Vancouver, I decided to try out this mysterious technique.

Gratuitous Floral Interlude

With the first day of spring – a Very Important Day of the Year – fast approaching, I noticed that the camellia outside our kitchen door finally started to bloom.  It is very late in blooming this year, what with the La Nina and her cold-wet winter, here in Canada’s so-called moderate Mediterranean climate (NB:  notice the teeth marks on the leaf below the flower – the local deer keep chewing the camellia’s leaves, although they are not supposed to like such leaves. Please get the word out to any deer you know…).

For the brownie review – and the recipe

This recipe is different from every other brownie technique I have ever encountered. It is reminiscent of roasting chicken or turkey, first, at a high temperature, then at a lower one to ensure a crisp skin. Similarly, Ms. Medrich’s technique produces a an outer layer, namely the top crust, which has a satisfying chewiness, with a moist interior, much like the poultry technique, which yields white meat which is not dry yet golden and crisp skin.  Who knew brownies could benefit equally?

The brownie recipe itself is one which Ms. Medrich adapted from the Fannie Farmer classic.  The author says that this technique works well for lower fat brownies, especially, as they can risk being too dry, particularly after a day or so. While the nuts are optional, I urge you to include them, as they provide a nutty-chewy counterpoint to the very creamy chocolate centre.  With a rich crumb – not a hint of dryness – and the most creamy interior imaginable underneath a shiny chewy top-crust, the Steve ritual is worth trying, even if you are completely satisfied with your own  arsenal of brownie recipes.

Chill-Out Brownies, adapted minimally from the “New Classic Brownies”, in Alice Medrich’s Cookie and Brownies

Ingredients

• 8 tablespoons (4 ounces, one stick, or 110 grams) butter, salted or unsalted
• 4 ounces (110 grams) unsweetened chocolate, roughly chopped
• 1 ¼ cup (10 ounces or 280 grams) sugar
• 1 teaspoon (5 ML) vanilla extract
• ¼ (1.25 ML) teaspoon salt (can be omitted if using salted butter)
• 2 eggs, at room temperature (preferably free-range organic, from happy chickens)
• ½ cup (2 ounces or 100 grams) all-purpose flour
• 2/3 cup (70 grams) pecans, walnuts, or hazelnuts, chopped – optional but the counterpoint is wonderful if you are a nutty-brownie type

Directions

1. Pre-heat oven to 400 degrees F (200 C or Gas Mark 6), with the oven rack at bottom-third position.
2. Line 8” x 8” (15 cm) square metal pan with parchment paper or reuseable non-stick 8” square sheet.
3. Melt butter and chocolate in microwave at 50% strength, at 30 second instalments, or until chocolate is almost melted; or melt the two in the top of a double boiler over simmering water, remove from stove top when just melted.
4. Add sugar, salt, and vanilla to chocolate-butter, mixing thoroughly.
5. Add eggs, one at a time, until fully incorporated, into the chocolate-butter-sugar
6. Blend flour into wet ingredients, until just combined – do not over-mix.
7. Fold in nuts gently, if using.
8. Spread batter into prepared pan and place in oven.
9. Bake for 20 minutes.
10. In the meantime, add ice cubes to the bottom of a 9” square pan (23 cm) or larger pan and fill half-way up with cold water.
11. Remove pan from oven and place into ice-water bath immediately, ensuring that no water splashes over the pan onto the brownies.
12. When fully cooled, take knife (or non-metallic spatula or knife, if using a non-stick pan) and insert around the four inner vertical edges carefully, just to loosen brownies.
13. Remove the brownie slab from the pan, peel off parchment paper, and place on board to cut into 16 squares (2” x 2” or 5 cm x 5 cm).
14. Eat and chill-out.

Do you need a quick yet unusual soup to help you get through the end of winter? Avgolemeno soup, in my abbreviated version, is bright, creamy, and healthful.  It is thick and rich, yet relatively low-fat and easy to make.  This is one of my favourite soups to make during the winter for its simplicity and ingredients, which I regularly stock.

Avgolemono soup is a traditional Greek soup, which requires eggs and lemons for its consistency and lively taste.  While it is generally chicken-based, recipes sometimes call for vegetarian stock or other meat broths.  NB:  I do not agree with the Wikipedia entry for avgolemono soup “invariably” curdling, when refrigerated and reheated; I have not had this happen to me.

I have fond memories of avgolemeno soup from living in “Chicagoland”.  Greater Chicago had such an influx of immigrants in the 19^th and 20^th centuries that it would make such claims as more Poles than anywhere in the world except for Warsaw and more Greeks than any place outside Athens.  There were many outstanding Greek restaurants throughout Chicago, as well as diners, coffee shops, and other such American-style restaurants run by people of Greek descent.

As my family ate out many times each week while I was growing up, we often had Greek cuisine in “Greektown” as well as eating in Greek-influenced diners.  Avgolemeno (“egg-lemon”) soup was frequently on the menu in the former and the latter, with the name always in English at the diners. Except during my strictest vegetarian years, I always enjoyed avgolemono soup.

Gratuitous feline and fowl photos

George seems to be pondering when spring will arrive.

Any sprouts coming up yet?

Jinja may be looking around the corner for spring….

While a bald eagle appears to be contemplating spring nest locations.

For the review – and the recipe

Though I follow the traditional chicken-based version, a vegetarian alternative – though not vegan – could work well. The thickening of the eggs, I suspect, could not be readily replaced by vegan alternatives with the same results.  Similarly, brown rice could work, but I believe the creaminess of white rice contributes to the texture (I generally use Basmati or jasmine rice in this soup).

Black pepper is a key star, along with the sassy lemon.  Lemon-chicken-pepper are natural allies, so they shine together in this soup.  The thick luxurious texture and rich taste belie the relative low-fat nature of the soup and its easy preparation. If there is leftover white rice in your fridge, this soup can be ready in fewer than 15 minutes – making good use of the rice.

As is, this soup is substantial enough as a main course, with a hearty bread – try a good sourdough, with its tanginess to complement the lemony soup.  Perhaps a Greek salad and/or a spanakopita, spinach-feta filo pie, could accompany the soup for a Grecian feast? So if you are not taking a winter fantasy/get-away to the Greek Isles like Shirley Valentine, this soup is the easiest way to transport yourself to sunnier, warmer climes.

Avgolemeno  Soup, adapted from many different recipes over the years, serves four as a main course, six as a starter

Ingredients

• 1 litre or quart organic chicken stock (or substitute vegetable stock for a vegetarian alternative), either home-made or from a high-quality packaged product
• 1/2 cup uncooked white rice or 1 cup leftover white rice (brown rice might work but not as much creaminess)
• salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
• 3 egg, beaten
• 2 lemons, juiced
• Parsley, for garnish
• pieces of chicken, optional

Directions

1. Prepare rice according to directions for that particular rice, if making fresh rice, one-half hour before you would like to serve the soup.
2. Heat stock in a large sauce pan.
3. Add fresh rice or left over rice to stock and stir to combine.
4. Whisk the eggs with the lemon juice in a heat-proof glass or ceramic (i.e., non-reactive) bowl.
5. Add about one-cup of hot broth into the egg-lemon mixture very slowly in a steady thin stream to temper the eggs (that is, to ensure they do not curdle), stirring constantly with a whisk or large wooden spoon.
6. Gradually whisk in more broth until the egg mixture is well-heated, approximately another cup.
7. Pour the egg-lemon broth mixture back into the pot, whisking or stirring to combine briskly. The result should be a creamy, opaque soup.
8. Taste and add salt and plenty of pepper (more lemon juice at this point, if you want it to be really lemony).
9. If you have leftover chicken, add pieces of chicken to the soup before serving.

When was the last time you had s’mores around a raging campfire? Yesterday?  Sometime during your childhood?  Never?

For those of you who did not have a North American childhood, “s’mores” is a contraction of “some more” – it is a challenge to eat just one.  S’mores consist of graham crackers, marshmallows, and chocolate. There are two ways of making them:

1. Large marshmallows are toasted on a stick or skewer over a campfire and then placed between two graham crackers with a piece of chocolate (the residual heat will melt the chocolate or at least soften it to make the sandwich.

2.  Marshmallows and chocolate are placed in between two graham crackers and wrapped in a piece of aluminum foil (or in a wire basket) which then go close to the fire to heat up the mixture for a melted chocolate-marshmallow result.

Apparently, it was the Girl Scouts in the U.S. who can claim bragging rights to these delectable sandwiches.   Tramping and Trailing with the Girl Scouts came out way back in 1927.  The first published recipe made it into this fascinating guide-book (the title alone makes it worth seeking, at used book stores or rummage sales…).

I made s’mores bars for a new year’s bonfire/potluck party.  Originally, I planned to bring the ingredients for s’mores:  However I could not figure out how anyone could make these in a relatively safe manner, in front of raging fire – not your average campfire.  Fortunately, I had come across a simple and quick recipe Cajun Chef Ryan posted right before new year’s.

On our island, recycling is a major past-time, as is composting and “burns”.  The latter only can take place between mid-October and mid-April.  Such fires are ways of getting rid of non-toxic debris, as we have no municipal garbage pick up.

Gratuitous kitty pictures – to keep things in perspective:

Jinja likes to hide at the bottom of a branch-filled giant vase.

From this angle, Jinja looks like a giant cat, emerging from said vase.

For the recipe and the review…

This bar is an improvement on the s’more.  The crust alone is more substantial and more crunchy than the base of the traditional s’more – not to mention it is a fast, easy dessert to prepare for an indoor or outdoor party.  The milk chocolate chips are more traditional, but I suggest semi-sweet chocolate for a slightly less sweet and, dare I say,more sophisticated version.

One variant occurred to me is that a s’more bar is not far from a rocky road – chocolate, marshmallow, and walnuts traditionally (in chocolate bars, ice cream, or fudge).  Adding chopped nuts to the chocolate layer would transform the s’more bar into a rocky road bar. This would give added texture, a nuttier flavour, and added nutrition – while marshmallows do not make it into the category of “super foods”, walnuts do.  What versatility in a recipe!

Next time you are craving s’mores or have a bonfire/potluck to attend, try this fast and satisfying recipe – without even having to make a campfire first.

S’mores Bars, adapted from Cajun Chef Ryan, makes 21 2″ x 3″ bars

Variant:  add 1 cup of chopped pecans or walnuts (other nuts could work) on top of the melted chocolate (step three) to make a rocky road bar.

Looking for an easy flavourful yet wholesome soup for the winter doldrums? This triple-mushroom recipe is the perfect antidote to snow, cold, rain, wind, or whatever weather is making you crave a sturdy soup.  Even if you live in more temperate climes, this soup should cure any longing for mushrooms in a full-flavoured yet exceedingly nutritious meal.

I had been looking to use up a gift of a handful of dried porcini from Poland and had some organic cremini on hand, making me think mushroom soup would be in order.  This recipe recently appeared on Smitten Kitchen, from which I adapted it slightly (it originally was in the New York Times).  As Smitten Kitchen was the first food blog I followed, I thought this recipe would be appropriate for my first visit from a food blog-buddy I had never met before  – in person, that is – Jackie of I Am A Feeder.

Jackie’s site never fails to entertain or educate me. I find it very unusual to discover consistently humourous food blogs.  There are those blogs, which have to use “LOL”, “LMAO”, or such to let me know they are supposed to be funny; hers is not one of them.  I first came across Jackie’s site it while waiting for a flight at YVR (the Vancouver airport, where there is free WiFi!) last May, and it made me chuckle out loud (“COL”?), in the U.S.-departures lounge.  Since then, we have been following each other’s sites.  While we missed getting together in the UK during our visit last October, Jackie made it out to our little island in the Pacific.

I went into Vancouver first to meet Jackie, and the two of us visited some Vancouver food and culinary hot-spots and not-so-hot-spots, as Jackie mentioned on her site.  It was fun to get to know each other in town and back on the island, via very different experiences.  I thought it would be good to introduce Jackie to slow-cooker Italian beef sandwiches, a distinctive Chicago specialty, to prepare for her upcoming visit there.  But the mushroom soup seemed to be a good starter for the meal, if not a traditional one.

I had just about everything on hand for the soup.  We popped out to the local market for some more mushrooms and barley, spelt, or faro (“far-what?” was the clerk’s response, when I asked), but fortunately the shop across the road had “pot” barley – I wonder if they stock this variety for its cheeky reference to British Columbia’s major economic driver).

As it is not quite spring in B.C., it is time for a gratuitous floral interlude, amidst all this brown soup:

For the review and recipe…

Jackie helped out, with her impressive knife-wielding skills.  She thought my 25-year-old Henckel knives were sharp, but I think it is time to have them sharpened, as I have not done so for nearly two years.

With no knife sharpening on the island, one has to wait for the annual visit of a tinkerers’ truck from a neighbouring island in May.  An American-born former-M.D. and her German-born husband are itinerant knife-sharpeners and do basic mechanical repairs.  They visit in the spring for the annual Bob Dylan birthday party on our island and set up shop from their truck. It is part of the charm of island living:  one cannot have knives sharpened whenever one wants, but, when May rolls around, someone proficient in surgery and her German husband will do a respectable job with your knives – and just in time for the Bob Dylan potluck and musical celebration.

The beauty of Deb’s recipe on Smitten Kitchen (or, the mother of Marian Burros, originally) is that it is versatile. The grains can be either faro, spelt, or barley, and I found that apple cider vinegar was a good substitute for sherry vinegar – among my many vinegars, I found I had none of the sherry variety.  As I had a bit more than ½ cup of the dried porcini, I used them all, even though a bit more than the amounts in the original version. This recipe is easy to prepare, and I cannot think of a better mushroom soup I have had.

This can be a vegetarian soup, by substituting all vegetarian or mushroom broth for the beef stock (or chicken).  Beef stock, however, would make an even more profound soup. I happened to have organic mushroom and organic chicken stock but no beef, unfortunately; the soup turned out to be flavourful, complex, and satisfying, nevertheless.

This soup is a very earthy profoundly mushroom experience.  With dried porcini, fresh cremini, and mushroom stock, it is a mushroom triple threat:  singing, acting, and dancing for your pleasure. The texture of the cremini complemented the thick rich broth, which had a deep flavour.  It is almost more of a stew than a soup, with its hearty but not heavy texture.  While the chewy barley makes it a classic wintry soup, tiny bits of carrot sprinkled throughout give it a bit of colour and verve.  All in all, a fine soup for a food-blogging visit or any other occasion.

Triple Mushroom-Barley Soup, adapted from Marian Burros’s mother, in the New York Times, via Smitten Kitchen

Makes about 7 cups

Ingredients

• 1/2 cup dried mushrooms, e.g., porcini (the original recipe had 1/3)
• 2 tablespoons oil
• 1 medium onion, diced
• 1 medium carrot, diced
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 pound mushrooms (white, cremini, shiitake or whatever mixture you like; I used organic cremini)
• 1/2 cup barley or faro or spelt, rinsed
• 6 cups low sodium or salt-free broth or stock, preferably organic (I used 2/3 mushroom stock and 1/3 chicken but beef or vegetable would work, substitute as needed for vegans)
• 1/4 cup dry sherry
• 1 tablespoon tomato paste
• Salt and pepper to taste
• 1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar (the original had sherry vinegar)

Directions

1. Cover dried mushrooms with one cup of boiling water; put aside for 20 minutes or so, while you prepare the soup.
2. Clean (with a soft brush), trim, and slice mushrooms.  Chop the mushrooms to your desired texture, though they should be recognizable as mushrooms – not finely minced.
3. Heat oil in heavy-bottomed deep pot.
4. Sauté onions and carrots over medium heat until onions begin to color, about 10 to 15 minutes.
5. Add garlic, and sauté for 30 seconds, until fragrant.
6. Add fresh mushrooms, and cook until they begin to release liquid, about 5 to 10 minutes.
7. Raise heat and add barley; sauté until it begins to colour
8. Add broth, sherry, and tomato paste.
9. Drain the reconstituted porcini and chop them finely; strain the mushroom-soaking liquid to remove any grit and add liquid into pot with the reconstituted mushrooms.
10. Season with salt and pepper, and simmer for about 45 minutes, or until the barley is tender.
11. Stir in cider vinegar, adjust seasonings, and serve.

Can a home-made cake be fat-free and flavourful? The cocoa angel food cake proves it is possible, capped off with a fluffy seven-minute-style icing (I used the same frosting as on the chocolate-malt-buttercream cupcakes).

I enjoy a challenge when it comes to baking.  As with the oaty-almond crisps (dairy- and gluten-free), I like to find recipes which suit the dietary requirements without resorting to “fake” baked goods.  Thus, I decided to try my hand at baking an appropriately significant cake for a friend’s landmark birthday, one which required a low-fat dessert.

On my island, we have a “free store”, called the “redirectory”. Essentially, the “redirectory” – sounds much more high fallutin’ than “free store –  is like a thrift shop or second-hand store without any costs.  The Gulf Islands do not have municipal garbage pick-up, so people try to recycle, compost, and donate useful items as much as possible, more than in places where there is weekly or daily garbage (and it provides income to the entrepreneurs who haul garbage, off-island, at $5 a large sack).  The theory is that people will donate items in good condition, other than clothes (the one church-run thrift store does that), and those who need something will take it, saving used goods from garbage dumps.

So I found an angel food cake pan more than a year ago at the “redirectory”.  I put off making angel food cake, with all the other cakes vying for attention – not to mention the sheer number of eggs and care needed for making angel food cakes.  However, I have made sponge cakes and génoise cakes before, and I decided that I should give it a try.

I also had found an antique angel-food-cake slicer, at a vintage shop on a trip to Vachon Island, Washington, last September.  It is an elegant implement, used for angel food or chiffon cakes exclusively, though it is somewhat reminiscent of afro-picks from the 1970s, as a guest pointed out.  What other implement can have such disparate associations and represent fundamentally oppositional eras?  There is the prim-and-proper ladies’ tea – think of the 1920s-1950s heydey of angel food cakes and the newcomer, the chiffon cake. In the 1920s, the angel food’s richer sister, the chiffon cake, had its official coming out as a sassy debutante.  For these two desserts, I picture:  white gloves, white bread sandwiches, white cake, and white ladies, on the one hand.  On the other,  the Afro-pick connotes, for me, big-curly hair, free-love, sex, and drugs and rock-and-roll – from the Summer of Love through the disco era of the 1970s.

For the cake review – and the recipe…

The angel food cake is not difficult to make, though it requires attention, e.g., mise-en-place and care in measuring, aerating/whipping egg whites, folding, and baking until it is just done, not over-baked.  My redirectory pan was an old one-piecer, that is, no removable bottom, so I took the added precaution of tracing a round of parchment paper for the bottom ring of the pan (i.e., where the top of the cake would go).  I had no trouble releasing the cake with the side-by-side motion, as suggested by the cake maven herself, Rose Levy Barenbaum; I loved her in-depth methodical approach to freeing the angel food cake from captivity, while preserving its chaste beauty.

From the cocoa, there is a subtle flavour of chocolate, discernible but not overpowering.  The texture is very light and airy, delicate but with enough body that the cake has an enticing chewiness. To make it more of a celebratory cake, I added the marshmallow-meringue icing in addition to blackberry sauce I had canned, using local blackberries.

What I like about the cake, too, is that it would complement gelato or sorbet, fresh berries, ice cream and hot fudge – for a decidedly not-so-low fat dessert.  However you choose to dress it up or not, this cake is a delightful taste of angel food goodness.

Cocoa Angel Food Cake, adapted from Nick Malgieri’s Chocolate:  From Simple Cookies to Extravagant Showstoppers

Makes one 10-inch tube cake, about 12 generous servings

Ingredients

• 1 1/2 cups sugar, divided
• 1 cup cake flour (spoon flour into dry-measure cup and level off)
• 1/3 cup natural cocoa (sifted into measuring cup)
• 1 1/2 cups egg whites (from about 12 large eggs)
• 3/4 teaspoon salt
• 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

One 10-inch tube pan (not non-stick) with removable bottom (if possible), ungreased; a narrow-necked bottle on which to place the cake after it is baked

Directions

1. Place rack in the middle level of the oven and preheat to 325 F.

2. Measure the sugar in two 3/4 cup measuring cups, if you have them, putting one aside for later. Stir the remaining 3/4 cup sugar and the flour together in a bowl and sift them once onto a piece of wax paper.

3. Combine the egg whites and salt in the bowl of an electric mixer. Use the whisk to whip the egg whites on medium speed until they are foamy. Add the vanilla and continue whipping until the egg whites just are starting to hold their shape. Increase the speed to medium-high and whip in the reserved 3/4 cup of sugar in a very slow, steady rain of granules. Continue to whip the egg whites until they hold a soft, glossy peak BUT NOT DRY FIRM PEAKS!

4. Remove the bowl from the mixer and quickly sift a third of the flour and sugar mixture over them. Gently fold in with a rubber spatula. Repeat with another third of the flour mixture, and fold it in, then end with the remaining flour mixture, folding it in.

5. Spoon the batter into the pan and smooth the top.

6. Bake the cake for 45 to 55 minutes, or until it is well risen, a medium cocoa-colour, and finger inprint bounces back slowly (firm to the touch) but not dry.

7. Remove the baked cake from the oven and invert the pan onto the neck of the bottle. Cool the cake completely.

8. Unmold the cake.

9.  Ice with meringue icing and serve with blackberry sauce, raspberry coulis, sorbet, gelato, ice milk, or whatever makes you feel more angelic.

Storage: Keep the cake under a cake dome or loosely wrapped in plastic, for a day or so.  The cake can be frozen

What happens when you combine down-home tomato soup with Indian spices?  Spicy masala tomato soup is the inter-cultural result.

Every winter around January, I seem to have a hankerin’ for traditional cream of tomato soup.   I grew up with the canned Campbell’s variety.  Sometimes I like to think I had a Warholesque-childhood, but, in truth, it was far more suburban and prosaic than that.  I never really liked the thin tinny-tasting tinned soup.  However, I later developed an appreciation for the home-made version.  I had tried the “real” soup at dinner parties and home-cookin’ restaurants, where the tomato’s true identity shines through.

A few years ago, I came across Martha Stewart’s recipe for tomato soup.     Although I never use the cream option, this version makes a fine North American “cream” of tomato soup (NB:  I would double the ingredients to make a larger portion, as a matter of course).  It is the kind of tomato soup which would pair perfectly with a grilled cheese sandwich for lunch on a rainy or snowy day.  The ingredients are generally in a well-stocked home pantry, so the soup can be ready in just over one-half hour.

I decided to adapt the recipe to incorporate “Madrasi Masala”, which my friend Kip had given us as part of an Xmas gift.  Commercial break:

Looking for unique jewelry or gorgeous photography?  Visit Kip’s Etsy site for her marvelous, distinctive handmade jewelry and stunning original photography. Some of Kip’s vibrant photographs are even food-related!

In case you did not know, “masala” means mixture and often is a blend of spices, varying from place to place.  It can also be a spicy tomato-base for curries (typical of the Punjab region, for instance).  Kip’s particular blend from the Madras region worked well in a Sri Lankan dal I had made a week earlier.  I wanted to make more use of the tantalizing spice blend.

For the review of the soup – and the recipe

The soup combines the traditional American tomato base and texture with the masala, ginger, garlic, and cayenne, which enliven the flavours and add an unexpected dimension. An intriguing complexity of spices and some lively heat make it a nice surprise from the comfortable cream of tomato soup, but not so much that it is painful…or shocking.  The soup has a good hearty consistency – not absolutely smooth.  Its rich, burnt-orange colour looks warming and enticing on its own.

Sometimes an unanticipated departure from a childhood favourite can be a good way to shake up your wintry routine.

Spicy Masala Tomato Soup (my original creation, with a special nod to la Martha) Serves four as a main course, six-to-eight as a starter

Ingredients

• 3 tablespoons unflavoured oil, e.g., canola
• 2 medium yellow onions, chopped finely
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 2 teaspoons fresh ginger, grated on a microplane (note:  one heaping tablespoon of prepared garlic-ginger paste can substitute for the above)
• 24 ounces canned whole plum tomatoes
• 4 cups homemade or low-sodium store-bought chicken stock (or vegetable stock, for a vegetarian alternative)
• 2 teaspoons masala powder of your choice
• ½ teaspoon cayenne, or more, to taste
• sea salt, to taste (1/2 teaspoon should suffice)
• 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper, or more, to taste
• cilantro, AKA “fresh coriander”, for garnish (optional)

Directions

1. Heat oil in a large saucepan over medium-low heat. Add onion, cook, stirring occasionally, until onions have softened and are translucent, about 10 minutes.
2. Add garlic, ginger, masala, and cayenne, stirring for two minutes.
3. Add tomatoes, chicken stock, pepper; bring to a boil. Reduce heat to low and cook until tomatoes, onions, and garlic are soft, 10 to 15 minutes.
4. If using a blender, working in batches, transfer soup to the jar of a blender and puree until smooth.  If using an immersion blender, puree the soup in the saucepan off the burner, until the desired consistency.
5. If using a blender, return the soup to saucepan and place over medium heat and heat thoroughly. If soup seems too thick, stir in some extra stock or water to thin.
6. Adjust seasonings – salt, pepper, and cayenne.
7. Serve immediately.