Roast Duck and a Big Gooey Cake

Sliding into the Super Bowl: Chicken and Apple Sliders

noreply@blogger.com (Eliz) — Wed, 30 Jan 2013 23:34:00 +0000

Growing up in Windsor, a small Canadian city in southwestern Ontario just across the border from Detroit, you could not help but be immersed in American culture, no matter what your passport said. Mega American malls, with their low prices, huge selection and a Target at every corner, were just 30 minutes away. Grocery stores beckoned with seemingly endless aisles, full of exotic foods we couldn't get at home (marshmallow Fluff! Vernor's gingerale! Swiss Miss cocoa mix!).

The American food culture wasn’t just confined to those US shores. Windsor was the perfect test market for fast food, American style, of every kind. The city could boast of Canada’s first Arby’s and Taco Bell, and Domino’s Pizza was as familiar – if not as good – as our own hometown choices.

But perhaps my favourite guilty pleasure was something that never did find its way across the river into Windsor. White Castle burgers, with their thin distinctive square shape, holes for faster frying, and bite sized proportions, could be eaten by the bagful, and they were. The strangely quaint stores, with their faux turrets, somehow didn’t seem out of place in the urban sprawl of the Motor City.

It's been many years since I've had a White Castle, and, I confess, quite some time since I've craved one. But I still love a flavourful bite-sized treat, and these chicken and apple sliders are a grown-up take on a snack that you can eat by the handful. So, in honour of that most decidely American annual tradition, the Super Bowl, make a dozen or three of these, adapted from another American classic, The Joy of Cooking. They may not conjure up nostalgia, but they'll be a winning addition to your Super Bowl feast.

Chicken and Apple Sliders
makes approx. three dozen small patties
(adapted from The Joy of Cooking)

¾ c apple cider

¼ c Calvados
2¼ lb bone-in chicken thighs with skin
2 oz dried apple rings

1 scant tbsp kosher salt

1 tsp coarsely ground black pepper
1 tsp rubbed sage

⅛ tsp cinnamon

⅛ tsp ground ginger

To finish and garnish:

3 dozen mini hamburger or ciabatta buns, toasted

Lettuce of your choice (I used micro arugula greens)

Carmelised onions (make your own or use a good quality store bought brand)

1. Preheat oven to 350˚F.

2. In a small saucepan, bring apple cider and Calvados to a boil and then simmer, reducing liquid to 3 tbsps. Let cool.

3. Bone the chicken thighs, reserving the skin. Cut the meat and skin into strips. Coarsely chop the dried apple rings. Grind the meat, chicken skin and dried apple pieces together in a meat grinder. (If using a food processor, cut the meat, skin and apples into small cubes).

Using a meat grinder ensures a uniform texture and a good blending of the dried apple and chicken

4. In a large bowl, combine the ground meat mixture with the reserved apple syrup and the remaining spice ingredients. Blend the mixture thoroughly with your hands until all of the ingredients are well combined. Form the meat into small patties, big enough to fit on a mini hamburger or mini ciabatta bun. *

5. Place on an ungreased baking sheet and bake for 10 to 15 minutes, or until cooked through.

6. To serve, place a piece of lettuce on each bun, top with a slider and finish with a generous dollop of carmelised onions.

*NB. The uncooked patties can be frozen at this stage for up to two months. To serve, bake from frozen on an ungreased baking sheet at 350˚F for 20-25 minutes, or until cooked through.

Taking the Chill out of Winter: Apple-Ginger Hot Toddy with Calvados

noreply@blogger.com (Eliz) — Tue, 22 Jan 2013 05:21:00 +0000

Brew me a cup for a winter's night.

For the wind howls loud and the furies fight;

Spice it with love and stir it with care,

And I'll toast our bright eyes,

my sweetheart fair
Minna Thomas Antrim

There is much to love, I think, about winter. Blazing hot logs in the fireplace; the crunch of snow on a blinding bright sunny winter’s day; the brilliant flash of cardinals lingering at the bird feeder, their song calling to the more timid house finches and chickadees. Cosy thick sweaters; cashmere scarves soft as a baby’s cheek. The days inching longer and with them, the promise of spring.

But winter has its dark underbelly too. Dreary naked branches longing for green; slushy wet snow that seeps into your boots and between your toes. The monotony of root vegetables and wooden tomatoes. And worst of all...the dreaded spectre of colds and flu. My usual stamina and boundless energy often get caught unawares, a cold creeping in on cat’s feet and settling in for a long winter’s nap.

As I try and shake off the vestiges of a lingering cough, I do the sensible thing and make a steaming hot toddy full of natural goodness and a little bit of something stiffer. By the time I’ve drained the last spicy dregs, I feel the warmth seeping down to my toes and my eyes drooping. Winter may not be over, but my cold, on its last shaky legs, totters out the door.

Apple-Ginger Hot Toddy with Calvados

Makes one serving

This toddy uses a generous amount of cayenne pepper, rich in capsaicin. An ancient remedy for all sorts of ills, cayenne is also known to have anti-irritant properties, easing sore throats and lingering coughs. If you prefer a milder version either reduce the amount or eliminate the cayenne entirely.

1 c apple cider, heated

1 oz Calvados, or more to taste*
Three thick slices fresh ginger, cut in slivers

Generous pinch cayenne pepper, or to taste

1 cinnamon stick
1 lemon wedge, spiked with three whole cloves
The juice of ½ lemon

1 tsp honey (more to taste)

1 ginger teabag (I use Pukka Three Ginger Tea)

*Calvados, a French brandy from Normandy, adds an extra glow to this toddy

Combine all of the ingredients in a large mug and top with boiling water. Let steep for at least five minutes. Scoop out the solids and the teabag, leaving just the lemon wedge. Wrap up in your favourite blanket, sit back and enjoy.

Piercing the lemon with cloves is a practical way to avoid swallowing

one whole...

Magical natural ingredients: lemon, ginger, cinnamon, cloves, cayenne and honey combine with calvados, apple cider and tea to fight the worst of winter's chills

Autumn Canning: Two-Step Carmelized Pear-Ginger Marmalade

noreply@blogger.com (Eliz) — Sun, 18 Nov 2012 22:13:00 +0000

In canning, there are no mistakes, only opportunities.

But that wisdom is hard-won, and not so obvious the first time you burn a batch of jam, or over-process the marmalade until it's as stiff and unyielding as hardened honey. These seeming failures can be transformed into something quite wonderful by the addition of one simple ingredient: imagination.

I learned that first from Marisa McClennan of Food in Jars. This summer I watched Marisa making plum jam in front of a group of 80 food bloggers in less than ideal conditions: a picturesque but sticky hot barn; a tabletop cooking element that could barely get the jam to boil and wouldn't work if the fan was on. Marisa carried on as if she was in the comfort of her own kitchen, expertly working her alchemy on simple fruit and sugar, and teaching us how to recognise when the critical "gel" stage had been reached.

"If you keep cooking the jam and it won't set, just call it preserves and carry on," she said casually. "No one will know the difference and it will still be delicious." Sage advice indeed.

I was reminded of this last week when I was making pear-ginger marmalade for the first time. A simple recipe, a familiar technique...but just an extra few minutes on the stove turned the marmalade from "set" to a shade too brown, the whole thing seconds from being burnt. A thicky, gooey - but still delicious - bit of a mess.

What if this became carmelized marmalade instead of plain old pear-ginger marmalade? What if I made another batch in equal measure, cooked by five minutes less, and the two batches combined into one delightful whole? I'd have twice the marmalade, with a deep caramel flavour that added a richness that the original recipe lacked.

An opportunity presented. Imagination deployed. And a delectable new addition to my canning repertoire.

Two-Batch Carmelized Pear-Ginger Marmalade
yields 6-8 half pint jars

This marmalade is made in two steps: the first batch of marmalade is cooked slightly longer to allow the sugar to carmelize and the colour to deepen. You will repeat steps one through three for each batch. Each step can be done one after the other, or each batch can be made one after the other. Either way, you will be cooking the marmalade in two steps.

For each batch of marmalade, you will need the following ingredients. Be sure to buy enough of everything.

4 limes
8 cups peeled, cored and diced firm but ripe pears
3 cups granulated sugar
¼ c crystallised ginger, diced
1¼ c water

1. Using a zester, remove lime peel in very thin strips from three of the limes. Set peel aside in a small bowl. Juice all four of the limes and and put the juice in a large non reactive bowl.

A zester makes easy work of stripping the limes of their

fragrant peel

2. Prep eight cups of pears by peeling, coring and dicing them, adding each pear to the lime juice as you go, and stirring gently to coat with lime juice. Add the sugar and the ginger, and stir gently one final time until all the ingredients are well combined. Set aside for one hour.

3. While the pears are macerating, in a small pot, combine lime peel and water. Bring to a boil and cook about 15 minutes, until peel is tender and most of liquid is evaporated. Drain liquid, adding it to pear mixture. Set rind aside.

For Carmelized Marmalade (Batch One)
Put the pear mixture in a large, non-reactive pot, and bring to a boil over medium heat. Boil hard, stirring frequently and skimming foam as it gathers, for 15 minutes. Add lime peel and boil until mixture begins to deepen in colour and the sugar carmelizes, no more than an additional 5 minutes. Watch the marmalade closely. As soon as the mixture begins to carmelize and thicken, take off the heat immediately. Set aside while you prepare the second batch.

When doing the first batch of marmalade, look for a deep caramel colour and immediately remove from the heat to prevent scorching

For Batch Two
Prepare the second batch of marmalade, following steps 1 through 3 above. When you bring the pear mixture to a boil, add the lime peel after 10 minutes and do not boil for longer than 15 minutes.

The second batch will lighter in colour and not as thick

While the second batch is cooking, gently heat the first batch until it is hot. When both batches are done, combine them thoroughly and ladle hot marmalade into prepared sterilized jars. Process in a hot water bath 10 minutes. Remove the jars and let the marmalade cool completely.

This delicious marmalade is equally good as sweet treat on rich pannetone or as an accompaniment for a cheese plate.

Seasonal Sensation: Maple-Baked Lady Apples with Herbed Goat Cheese

noreply@blogger.com (Eliz) — Mon, 12 Nov 2012 07:58:00 +0000

“What are you going to do with those? Decoration?” said the cashier as she eyed my purchase dubiously and weighed the bag. “Not for eating, right?”

I was in one of those small and chi chi produce shops where every gleaming pristine piece of fruit is placed just so, where tomatoes are always in season, and where you can pay a king’s ransom for strawberries the size of golf balls. The kind of place the Brits would call a greengrocer and what I usually call a bit of a swindle.

There is one advantage to such a store however and it’s this; they’ll bring in the oddities that mainstream grocers won’t. Three types of radicchio flown in from Treviso; fresh porcini mushrooms; wild blueberries, tiny and sweet. Those treasures are seasonal and all the more precious because of it; better buy some today, because next week they may be gone.

I had been on the hunt for one such prize and I wasn’t disappointed. There, almost hidden from view, a bushel, filled to brim with tiny colourful Lady apples.

I knew exactly what I was going to do with these little beauties: give them an autumnal spin in the oven and then stuff them with herbed goat cheese. A perfect one bite seasonal sensation. Yes, they were for eating. But they sure look pretty too.

Baked Lady Apples Stuffed with Herbed Goat Cheese

makes 12

1 dozen Lady apples

¼-½ maple syrup

½-¾ c softened plain goat cheese

2-3 sprigs fresh thyme

1 large sprig fresh rosemary; more for garnish

1 1. Preheat the oven to 350˚F.

2 2. Cut the tops off of the Lady apples, brush the undersides with maple syrup and set aside. With a melon baller, scoop out the inner flesh of the apples, making sure to get any bits of seed. As you cut each apple, brush the cavity generously with maple syrup.

3 3. Place the apples, cut side up, and the tops, cut side down, on a large baking sheet. Bake for 20-30 minutes, or until the apples are softened but not mushy. The tops may be ready more quickly; if so, take them out and set them aside to cool while the apples continue to bake.

4 4. While the apples are baking, prepare the goat cheese filling. Chop the herbs finely and mix them into the cheese, incorporating fully.

5 5. When the apples are done, let them cool for 10 minutes. Fill each cavity with a generous spoonful of goat cheese, top each apple with a “lid” and finish off with a decorative sprig of rosemary in each apple. The apples can be made ahead and stuffed, covered and refrigerated. Bring to room temperature before serving.

Fruitful Baking: Buttery Peach Brioche

noreply@blogger.com (Eliz) — Fri, 12 Oct 2012 03:08:00 +0000

Just about a year ago at this time, I was making my way to an old stone villa in Pistoia, 45 minutes outside of Florence. I had made plans to meet a perfect stranger at the airport, and we would drive together to Il Salicone, sharing a room for the weekend, and more importantly, sharing meals and community together with 14 other people who were just about as obsessed with food as we were.

That was Plate to Page Tuscany, and the magic of a perfect blend of writing, food, photography and camaraderie linger still. I have been lucky to meet fellow P2Pers for lunch in London; over bistecca in Umbria; in an East Village old school Italian joint in New York.

But it is in the digital world where we connect most often. From all parts of the globe, we share stories and recipes, deepening friendships first forged over the chopping of vegetables and the silent concentration of writing exercises. As I read their blog posts, I’m reminded of how food unites us, making old memories fresh, simple ingredients special and the most elemental of dishes remarkable.

Jamie at Plate to Page Tuscany

My friend Jamie, one of P2P’s founders and an insatiable baker extraordinaire, recognises that communion of food. She, along with fellow food bloggers Lora the Cake Duchess and Lisa of Parsley, Sage, Dessert and Line Drives, recently launched Twelve Loaves, a monthly challenge to get home bakers in the kitchen and get the house filled with the ethereal smell of freshly baked bread.

While I’m a wee bit behind in posting my response to their first challenge, it’s never too late to bake bread. I hope you’ll join me in rolling up your sleeves and letting the flour fly.

Buttery Peach Brioche

makes 1 loaf
with slight variations from Cook's Illustrated

Twelve Loaves’ first challenge asked bakers to bake a bread with summer fruit. While summer fruit are long gone, this take on bread with fruit celebrates on the season’s most delicious treats: peaches. I used homemade peach preserves to give a sunny twist to simple and delicious brioche.

One envelope dry active yeast

½ cup milk (2% or whole), warm
2¼ c unbleached all-purpose flour
6 tbsp unsalted butter, cut into 6 pieces
3 tbsp sugar
1 tsp kosher salt
2 large eggs
¾ c peach jam, plus extra for brushing on top of the bread*
*any high quality preserve will work well with this bread

One 8½ x 4½ x 2½ loaf pan, greased

1. In a small bowl, whisk yeast into milk. Slowly stir in 1 cup of flour. Cover with plastic wrap and set aside.

2. Pulse the butter, sugar, and salt at 1-second intervals in a food processor, scraping down sides, until the mixture is smooth. Add the eggs, one at a time, processing after each addition until fully incorporated. The mixture will have the consistency of curdled milk.

3. Add remaining flour and yeast/flour mixture, pulsing at 1-second intervals until a soft, smooth dough is formed. At this stage, process continuously for 15 seconds more.

4. Turn the dough out onto a generously floured work surface. It will be quite soft and sticky. Knead until the dough is smooth and elastic.

5. Line the bottom of the loaf pan with greased parchment paper, and set aside.

6. Press the dough into a 9-by-5-inch rectangle, with the short end facing you. Spread the jam evenly over the rectangle, being careful not to go to the edges of the dough. Fold each long side about 1 inch toward the center and press firmly to seal. Fold the top half of the dough toward the center. Fold the bottom half of the dough up past the seam; pinch seam to seal.

7. Place the dough in the pan, seam side down, and flatten the dough with your hand so that it fills the pan evenly. Cover the pan with greased plastic wrap, and let the dough rise about one inch above the pan rim. Preheat the oven to 350˚F while the dough is rising.

8. Using a sharp knife, slash the dough down the center, leaving about 1 inch unslashed at either end. Bake until golden brown, about 40 minutes. Transfer pan to wire rack; let cool 5 minutes.

9. Turn the loaf out of pan onto rack. With a pastry brush, brush the top of the loaf with additional jam until glistening. Let the bread cool to room temperature before serving.

Just enough of a sweet swirl to give brioche added flavour. Try this bread to make delicious French toast

Happy Birthday Julia! A Summer Dinner with Julia's Chicken Salad and Peach Tarte Tatin

noreply@blogger.com (Eliz) — Wed, 15 Aug 2012 09:10:00 +0000

It would have been the utterly fabulous Julia Child's 100th birthday today, and to honour and celebrate her life, there have been hundreds of extravagant dinners served this month, featuring some of her best known and loved classics. While it's true that Julia introduced the wonders of rich, complex French cooking to millions over her lifetime, she was also the master of dishes that are easy and quick to prepare. The constants? Top quality ingredients, seasonal goodness and of course, real butter.

If you're not inclined to whip up a roast duck and big gooey cake tonight - Julia's favourite birthday dinner, and the inspiration for this blog's name - try this simple and simply delicious summer meal instead. Featuring flavourful chicken salad and an in-season peach tarte tatin, it's the perfect meal to enjoy on a warm summer's evening. Pour a glass of chilly white and toast the woman who continues to bring us into the kitchen and inspire us to cook with thought, care and passion.

Bon appetit!

Julia's Chicken Salad
serves 6-8
adapted from Julia's Kitchen Wisdom

6 c leftover roast chicken, white and dark meat combined, cut into generous chunks

Salt and freshly ground white pepper, to taste

2 tbsp olive oil

2 tbsp fresh lemon juice

1 c chopped celery tops (include the leafy bits)

1 c chopped walnuts

2 tsp chopped fresh tarragon

⅔ c homemade mayonnaise

Fresh mixed salad greens

1. In a medium non-reactive bowl, toss the chicken with the salt, pepper and the next four ingredients, and mix thoroughly. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 20 minutes or overnight.

Use the leafy green tops of the celery for extra flavour

2. While the salad is chilling, make the mayonnaise (watch this space for Julia's recipe coming soon!)

3. When you’re ready to serve the salad, drain any liquid from the bowl. Add the tarragon and just enough mayonnaise to coat the salad very lightly. Or, as Julia says, to enrobe the salad – a lovely word! Place the salad greens on plates, placing a generous scoop of chicken salad on each, and serve.

Peach Tarte Tatin

serves 6-8

adapted from Julia's Kitchen Wisdom

With delicious peaches at their peak of goodness right now, I thought I'd adapt my favourite Julia Child dessert - classic apple tarte tatin - using peaches instead. The results were spectacularly good: must be the butter!

Here’s my version of Julia’s pie dough, which can be used for the tarte or for any sweet or savoury pie you wish to make. You will need about half of this recipe for the tarte. Or use your favourite pie dough; you will need enough dough for a single pie tart.

For the Tarte Tatin:

6-8 firm but ripe peaches, peeled and cut into wedges

The juice and zest of 1 lemon

½ tsp cinnamon

¼ tsp ground cardamom

⅛ tsp ground mace

1½ cups sugar

6 tablespoons unsalted butter

Heavy oveproof 9-inch skillet for cooking and baking

1. Preheat the oven to 425F, with the rack in the lower middle position.

2. In a large bowl, combine the sliced peaches with the lemon juice, zest and spices. Set aside.

3. In the skillet, melt the butter over medium high heat. Slowly stir in the remaining sugar and cook, stirring constantly, until the mixture begins to turn syrupy and golden brown. Be careful not to overcook, as the mixture can burn easily.

4. Remove the skillet from the heat. Arrange the sliced peaches in a circular pattern in the skillet, starting at the outer edge of the pan and working your way into the middle, until you have used all of the peaches. Leave any accumulated juices behind.

5. Return the skillet to the stove and cook over moderately high heat, pressing down on the peaches every few minutes. Cover the skillet after ten minutes, but continue to press down on the fruit, and brush the tops of the peaches with the juices in the skillet. Watch the peaches carefully, as the sugar can carmelise and burn quickly. When the juices are thick and syrupy (about 20 minutes) remove the skillet from the heat.

5. On a lightly floured surface, roll out the chilled dough until it is about ⅛ of an inch thick and slightly larger in diameter than the skillet. Drape the dough on top of the peaches, pressing the edge of the dough between the peaches and the edge of the skillet. Cut four steam holes on the dough and place the skillet in the oven.

6. Bake until the pastry has browned and crisped, about 20 minutes. Let the tarte rest for a few minutes and then unmold onto a serving dish. This is a bit tricky but even if some of the peaches stick to the skillet, just arrange them onto the tarte.

7. Cool slightly and serve.

BSP3 Part Two: Peachy Keen Canning - Peach-Plum-Ginger Jam

noreply@blogger.com (Eliz) — Fri, 10 Aug 2012 20:57:00 +0000

Do you know Food in Jars? It's the absolutely wonderful blog authored by that genius of jam, Marisa McClellan. Marisa's warm and inviting writing style welcomes you into her kitchen as she shares her preserving adventures, experiments, successes and near misses. No matter what's bubbling in the pot, Marisa's blog makes you want to take a peek inside, dip a spoon in, and taste whatever deliciousness she's cooking. Or better yet, load up at the farmers' market and try to capture all that ripe goodness in a jar for yourself.

I was beyond thrilled when I saw that Marisa was going to be at BSP3 this year. But I also couldn't believe she had been at last year's gathering; Marisa, how have I missed meeting you two years in a row?

Never mind. A highlight of BSP was watching Marisa make plum jam, demonstrating her canning alchemy with grace and humour in 90˚ heat. And best of all, I won one of Marisa's hot off the press cookbooks, the gorgeous Food in Jars. With peaches in season and the best they've been in years, it was time to get back into the kitchen with Marisa.

Peach-Plum-Ginger Jam
from Food in Jars, Marisa McClellan
makes approx 8 half pint jars

If you haven't canned before, this link will take you to my blog post on making plum jam, filled with step by step photos and further links to great canning sites (plus a super easy recipe for Italian plum jam).

Marisa doesn't specify what type of plums to use; whatever is in season and bursting with ripeness is the right choice. I was lucky to get sweet and sunny Shiro plums; their bright yellow added a golden glow to the jam.

8 c peeled, pitted and mashed peaches (about 4 lb)
4 c pitted and mashed Shiro plums
6 c granulated sugar
1 c ginger juice*

*To make ginger juice, shred an 8 oz piece of peeled ginger, cut into large chunks, in a blender with ½ c of water. Pour the ginger pulp into a cheesecloth lined sieve and squeeze out the liquid, discarding the remaining pulp.

1. Prep your canning equipment. Clean and sterilise half pint jars by washing them in warm soapy water and rinsing thoroughly; putting them through the quick wash cycle in the dishwasher is even easier and ensures sterilization. Set aside on a clean tea towel.

2. Wash the lids and the bands. Keep the lids hot in a small pot of simmering water. Fill your canner with water, add the clean jars, and put on the stove over medium high heat.

3. Combine the fruit, sugar and ginger juice in a large pot. Attach a candy thermometer to the side of the pot and bring the jam to a simmer. Increase the heat and boil the jam briskly until it reaches 220˚F, or it passes the saucer/spoon test.

4. Drain the jars from the water bath, and pour the hot jam into the jars. Apply lids and bands, put back in water bath and bring to a boil. Process for 10 minutes, remove from water and set aside to cool thoroughly.

Peach-Plum-Ginger Jam; delicious with freshly baked croissants

Big Summer Potluck 3 Part One: Water Bugging

noreply@blogger.com (Eliz) — Sun, 05 Aug 2012 16:54:00 +0000

This morning I did something rather unusual. I started my day by not water bugging.

No matter what day of the week, my mornings unfold in more or less the same way. Make tea, coffee for Richard if he’s not travelling. Feed Trixie, and whatever neighbourhood cats show up at the front door. Turn on the radio. And finally, impatiently, eagerly, sit down at my computer and re-establish my place in the digital world. What Facebook updates have I missed? Did anyone repin something from my Pinterest boards? What photos were posted on Instagram? Twitter…ah Twitter, how I love and hate you. With my two accounts, there are endless conversations to be part of, articles to read and retweet, messages to launch, like so many tiny missiles, into the vast endless Twittersphere universe.

And then there are work emails. While I’ve been sleeping, Asia and Europe have been busy as bees, filling my inbox with questions, FYIs, requests and projects. I’m fully engaged with all neurons firing, even though it’s only 6:30 am.

But here’s the thing. With all that activity, I haven’t had a single live human moment. I’ve been so busy trying just to keep up that I haven’t really tuned in.

So as I’ve been thinking about BSP3 and imagining what I might share about that transformative experience, I keep going back to water bugging.

Have you heard of water bugging? It’s the speedy skim, the surface conversation, the lightening quick flitting from one thing to another, all, of seeming very important and making you feel terribly busy. But water bugging never gets beneath the surface, down into the depths of things: to that scary place underneath the rock in the deepest part of the lake; to the magical beauty that inexplicably survives 30 feet below the water.

The Big Summer Potluck is all about what lies beneath. It’s the antithesis of water bugging, made evident in every minute with abundance of real human moments abounding all around us. It’s about bringing together the natural community that forms around food and amplifying it, shining a megawatt light on all that really should matter.

Unexpected beauty

As so as they have magically done for three years now, Maggy, Erika and Pam bring together people that force us to get our hair wet, to dive deeper into the lake that is our hearts and really connect with not just each other, but ourselves. I’ll share more about the collective awesomeness of Brooke Burton-Lüttmann, Joy Wilson, Marisa McClellan and Molly O’Neill in a future post, and how, in their very distinctive ways, each of them pulled us into the lake with joyous splashes.

But right now it’s 9:30 am. I’m in my garden, the cacophony of honey bees burrowing in the anemones impossibly loud and delicious. The digital world is a click away, but I’m swatting that particular water bug down for the moment. I have a husband to call who’s far away, and human moments to create.

With heartfelt thanks to Maggy for her water bugging intro to BSP3 and the amazing sponsors who made BSP3 possible, memorable and tasty!

Musselman's Apple Butter

KitchenAid

Kerrygold

Anolon

Green Mountain Coffee

Attune Foods

Tasty Kitchen

Driscoll's

Summertime Baking: Rhubarb Upside Down Cake

noreply@blogger.com (Eliz) — Fri, 20 Jul 2012 11:39:00 +0000

fleet·ing (flē’tĭng) adj. Passing quickly; ephemeral

There is the slow, snail-like wait. Daylight encroaching into darkness at an ever-later hour; the thermostat rising in degrees haltingly like a cranky mid-century oven. Closets in between sweaters and shorts; shoots barely breaking the soil to reach for the sun.

And then suddenly it's summer - blazingly hot, electric blue-sky summer. The heat blasts at 500˚F, and the days start to get inexplicably shorter, even before the dog days have truly begun. The flowers wilt in the heat and you do too, cooling off in barely there dresses and flipflops. Your favourites - the ones that you have waited for with longing and anticipation - make their glorious entrance and just as quickly begin to maddeningly disappear. Juicy peaches; the season's first cherries and strawberries; asparagus so tender green it makes you weak.

Here today, gone tomorrow rhubarb

And perhaps most fleetingly of all, ruby red, tangy, tart and slender rhubarb stalks. While strawberries and rhubarb have had a long love affair with one another, I prefer to give this most ephemeral of vegetables a starring role all of its own. The taste will linger long after rhubarb pulls up its roots and leaves town.

Rhubarb Upside Down Cake

with slight adaptations, from Melissa Clark, New York Times

serves 8-10

1¼ c unsalted butter (2½ sticks), at room temperature

1½ pounds rhubarb, rinsed and sliced into ½-inch cubes (about 6 cups)

1 tbsp cornstarch

1½ c granulated sugar plus 2 tbsp

½ c light brown sugar plus 2 tbsp

2 c cake flour

1½ tsp baking powder

½ tsp fine sea salt

Zest of 1 lemon, grated

1 tsp vanilla bean paste

4 large eggs

⅓ c sour cream

2 tsp lemon juice

1. Heat oven to 325˚F. Line the bottom of a 9-inch springform pan with parchment paper. Butter the paper and sides of the pan. Wrap two layers of foil under the pan, and place it on a baking sheet.

2. In a medium bowl, mix rhubarb, cornstarch and ½ cup plus 2 tbsp of granulated sugar.

3. Sift together the cake flour, baking powder and salt and set aside.

4. Blend the remaining 1 cup sugar with lemon zest with your fingers until the zest is distributed evenly throughout the sugar. Set aside.

5. In a stand mixer, cream 1 c butter for two minutes. Add the lemon zest-sugar mixture and cream together with the butter at medium-high speed until it is light and fluffy, about 4 minutes, scraping down the bowl periodically.

6. Add the vanilla bean paste and mix well. Add the eggs, one at a time, mixing well after each addition. Mix in the sour cream, and then the lemon juice.

7. Turn the mixer to low, and slowly add the flour mixture, ¼ cup at a time, until well combined, scraping down the bowl periodically. The mixture should be very light and fluffy. Set aside.

5. Heat all of the brown sugar and remaining ¼ c butter in a pan over medium heat. Whisk until smooth and bubbling, about 2 minutes.

6. Pour the brown-sugar mixture into the prepared cake pan, then spoon in the rhubarb and its juices. Spoon in the batter so it covers all of the rhubarb, smoothing out the top evenly.

7. Bake for 1 hour and 15 minutes. At this stage check for doneness: if the top of the cake is firm and springs back and a toothpick stuck in the middle comes out clean, it is done. In my oven, the cake takes 1 hour and 45 minutes to completely bake, so don't worry about overbaking the cake.

8. Place the pan on a wire rack, and cool for 15 minutes. Run a knife around the cake, place a plate on top of the pan and turn it upside-down.

Enjoy with a cold glass of milk and save room for seconds.

Peas Please: Sweet Pea Summer Soup with Marjoram

noreply@blogger.com (Eliz) — Wed, 11 Jul 2012 21:00:00 +0000

Is there anything more delicious than a simple bowl of sweet pea soup? The variations are infinite, needing only imagination and whatever the garden or cupboard will yield. Pick a herb; parsley for freshness, basil for bite, mint for green coolness. Choose a base: something from the allium family; liquid as simple as water or as complex as rich chicken stock. Fresh peas are best; in a pinch or in the dead of winter, frozen nearly as good. The pleasure of leisurely shelling peas on a warm summer afternoon is almost as satisfying as sipping the results. Served warm or chilled, sweet pea soup is what summer is all about.

Sweet Pea Summer Soup with Marjoram
serves 4-6

You don't need to plan far in advance for sweet pea soup. With willing hands to help with shelling, the soup can be ready and on the table in less than 30 minutes. I love using marjoram for a unique and subtle flavour that complements the fresh green sweet pea taste.

Farmer's market peas, ready for shelling

1 leek, trimmed and thinly sliced (about 1 cup)
⅛ lb pancetta, minced into very small pieces

1 shallot, minced

2 tbsp unsalted butter

2-3 sprigs marjoram

4 cups chicken broth

4 cups fresh shucked peas (or 4 c frozen, thawed)

¼ cup heavy cream

1. Melt butter over low heat and add leek, pancetta and shallot. Saute, stirring occasionally, until vegetables are very soft, about 10 minutes. Do not brown.

2. Add the majoram and the broth, turn heat to medium and bring to a simmer. Add peas and simmer for 6-8 minutes. Turn heat off and let soup cool slightly. Remove marjoram sprigs.

3. In a blender or food processor, puree soup in batches. Strain soup through a sieve and stir to blend.

4. Warm soup over medium heat, adding ¼ cup heavy cream and stirring to incorporate. Season with salt and white pepper to taste. Serve with crème fraiche, if desired. Soup can also be served chilled.

Serve this flavourful soup warm or slightly chilled

Toasting Spain: Spanish Style Stuffed Prunes

noreply@blogger.com (Eliz) — Thu, 05 Jul 2012 02:48:00 +0000

European football isn’t usually my thing. I’d be hard pressed to tell you who plays for Manchester City or Manchester United, or what the difference is between A.C Milan and F.C Internazionale Milano. But I do love championship football. The athleticism, the speed, the elaborate hairdos and drama – all of it combines for high octane entertainment.

Living in Toronto makes it easy to know what’s going on and who’s winning. Cars suddenly spout flags and a victory for Portugal or Italy in my neighbourhood is signalled by cars honking long into the night. Fever pitch excitement mounted all across the city last week as the finals for Euro Cup 2012 wound down to Sunday’s Italy-Spain showdown.

My patriotic Italian blood runs high when Italy makes it beyond the preliminary rounds. But I also know when my team is outplayed. Spain came in and dominated from the first kick of the ball. In honour of the winning team, here's a sweet and salty bocadillo to nibble with cocktails. It somehow makes defeat a little easier to bear.

Stuffed Prunes

(adapted from Tapas, by Simone and Ines Ortega)

3-4 oz Stilton or Roquefort cheese

¼ c raisins

¼ toasted pine nuts

1 tbsp sweet sherry

12-15 pitted prunes

1. In a small bowl, mash the cheese gently with a fork until creamy. Stir in the remaining ingredients and mix thoroughly until combined.

2. Fill each prune with a teaspoonful of filling. Refrigerate if making ahead, bringing to room temperature before serving.

Nutty About Butter: Easy Homemade Walnut Butter

noreply@blogger.com (Eliz) — Sat, 07 Apr 2012 09:00:00 +0000

I am a firm believer that everything's better with butter. No, not margarine, or butter substitute (do you remember I Can't Believe It's Not Butter? Yep, they still make it). The soft creaminess, the rich flavour, the inimitable depth that even a small pat of butter can impart cannot be replaced.

The amazing thing about this most elemental of ingredients is just how easy it is to make at home. I did just that for first time a couple of years ago and it opened my eyes to a world of possibilities. If cream alone could be transformed by some strange alchemy into butter, what else might I make?

If you've bought anything like a nut butter lately, you'll know what a pricey proposition that can be. Make it organic and double the price. So why not make nut butter at home? The possibilities are as endless as the diversity of nuts available. Almond butter seems like the obvious choice, so I decided to try something a little more out of the ordinary.

What about walnuts? Raw walnuts have a hint of tannic bitterness, and I wondered if toasting the walnuts would take the edge off. To smooth it off even more, and add a bit of buttery creaminess, I mixed in a handful of cashews. The result is a deliciously different nut butter, perfect for a just toasted piece of dense nutty German bread, such as those made by Mestemacher.

Easy Walnut Butter

makes approximately 2 cups

3 c walnuts

1 c cashews

1. Preheat oven to 350F.

2. Spread the walnuts and cashews evenly on a baking sheet. Toast for five to seven minutes, or until colour is slightly darkened and nuts are fragrant.

3. Blend for threee to five minutes in food processor, or until creamy smooth.

Toast your favourite bread, spread lavishly and enjoy a bite of healthy and delicious goodness

A Winter Cheat: Roasted Tomato Soup

noreply@blogger.com (Eliz) — Sun, 18 Mar 2012 21:54:00 +0000

Just about this time of year, I suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder. The symptoms are all there: lack of energy and the ability to concentrate; slow, lethargic movement; social withdrawal; irritability. Except the cause is not what you might think. I'm perfectly fine with grey skies, and every day after the winter solstice gets reassuringly longer.

No, it's not the weather, tempting as that may be to blame. The cause of my winter doldrums is quite simple. No tomatoes. After the glory of late fall's harvest, I'm left leaden by the hard and unyielding, artificially red orbs in the produce section. Mexico's harvest doesn't tempt me, and even the baby tomatoes that grow up in greenhouses seem somehow wrong and out of place next to the kale and cabbage.

While it's noble to wait until the seasons spin around again, I still imagine there must be some easy way to extract a kernel of flavour from what's at hand. And just as the secret to a summer tomato is the heat of the sun, so too is heat the trick to bringing life to the seemingly lifeless winter tomato. This delicious soup almost manages to make you think that the sun shining outside is smiling down on leafy tomato plants and not a blanket of snow.

Roasted Tomato Soup
from Gourmet Today
serves four to six

4 lb tomatoes, halved lengthwise
6 garlic cloves, left unpeeled
3 tbsp olive oil
½ tsp salt
¼ tsp black pepper
1 medium onion, finely chopped
½ tsp dried oregano, crumbled
2 teaspoons sugar
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
3 cups chicken stock or low-sodium broth
½ cup heavy cream

1. Preheat oven to 350°F.

2. Place tomatoes and garlic in one layer on a rimmed cookie sheet, tomatoes cut side up. Drizzle olive oil over the tomatoes and garlic; season with salt and pepper. Roast for one hour, and allow to cool. Once garlic is cool enough to handle, peel and set aside.

3. Melt butter in a medium saucepan over moderate heat. Add onion, oregano, and sugar and sauté, stirring frequently, until onion is softened, about five minutes. Add tomatoes, garlic, and stock and simmer, covered, for 20 minutes.

4. Let soup cool slightly and then purée in batches. Put the soup through a sieve, discarding solids, and place in a medium saucepan. Stir in cream and salt and pepper to taste and simmer two minutes. Sprinkle with some grated Parmigiano Reggiano, if desired, and garnish with a fresh sprig of basil.

The addition of cream gives this soup an almost carroty colour

If the thought of using winter tomatoes still doesn't appeal, wisely do what the Italians do and use canned tomatoes, sourced at their height of juicy goodness.

Simply Supreme: Blood Orange Marmalade with Star Anise and Ginger

noreply@blogger.com (Eliz) — Mon, 12 Mar 2012 12:30:00 +0000

Cooking is full of oddities. Funny measures, like a a pat of butter or peck of peppers. Archaic techniques and even stranger ways to describe them. Baking a pie crust blind. Bringing water to a rolling boil. Coddling eggs.

I love the specificity of these words, carrying with them the collective wisdom of hundreds of hands doing the same task, perfecting them and capturing their meaning in a "just so" way. And like an amateur sleuth, I ferret out new methods and the words to describe them, collecting them like so many shells along the shore.

Here's my latest acquisition. Supreming. A lovely word to describe a rather onerous and mundane task: that of separating the pesky membrane from a citrus fruit. Not so bad if you're making a smallish fruit salad but a bit more daunting when faced with several pounds of citrus waiting to be transformed into marmalade.

I first made blood orange marmalade last winter, and with the last of the jars scraped clean and a new crop of the beauties at the grocers, I wanted to try my hand at it again. Serendipity in the form of Food in Jars smiled upon me, with this brilliant and time saving method that eliminates the need to supreme the fruit. I added my own twist in the way of exotic spices that heighten and complement the sweet and slightly mysterious deep red oranges from way down south. While you may not need supreme the fruit, I can assure you the results will still be quite divine.

Blood Orange Marmalade with Star Anise, Ginger and Cardamom
adapted from Food in Jars
yields approximately 6 ½ pint jars

The secret to this brilliant technique that eliminates the need to supreme is an overnight soak of the citrus fruit. This breaks down the pith, and softens the fruit, with glorious results.

2 lbs blood oranges

2½ lbs sugar (about 5 cups)
3 star anise pods
2 inches fresh ginger, peeled and cut into thick slices
5 green cardamom pods
8 c water

1. Wash the oranges well. Trim each end, exposing the fruit, and cut in half.

2. Using a very sharp knife, cut out the orange cores, removing any seeds at the same time. Preserve both cores and seeds.

3. Cut the orange halves into thin slices, and cut each half into three segments. You want the fruit to be as thin as possible, with small bite size segments.

4. Take the reserved cores and seeds and tie them up securely with kitchen twine in cheesecloth.

5. Put orange segments and cheesecloth bundle in a large bowl and cover with water. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for 8 hours or overnight. If time and life interfere and you need to soak the fruit longer than a day or two, do so with impunity.

6. To cook the marmalade, remove the cheesecloth bundle with the cores and seeds and discard. Place the fruit and water in a non-reactive large pot (preferebably wide and shallow), and stir in the sugar. Place the star anise, fresh ginger and cardamom in cheesecloth, and tie securely so that none of the spices escape. Tuck the spice bundle amongst the fruit.

7. Bring the marmalade to a boil, reduce to a simmer, and cook until the marmalade is reduced by half or reads 220 degrees F on a candy thermometer (about 40 minutes). Test the marmalade to ensure that it has "gelled". Ladle marmalade into prepared jars, wipe rims, apply lids and rings, and process in a boiling water bath canner for 10 minutes.

Enjoy this delightful marmalade in a variety of ways, and not just on toast. Try it on roast pork or as a side to a cheese plate too.

Sweet Valentine's Treat: Lucia's Amazing Walnut Bars

noreply@blogger.com (Eliz) — Tue, 14 Feb 2012 05:05:00 +0000

There are some things that are genetic. Loud laughter. Blue eyes. Dark hair. An insatiable love of figs.

And then there are some things that, sadly, are not. Being organised, for instance. My oldest sister Lucia, despite her claims to the contrary, is the most organised person I know. Label maker: check. Jewlery sorted by colour and type: check. Pantry laid out to a T, shopping list at the ready to capture an item that needs replenishing: well, of course - check. For all my semblance of a well-ordered life, I missed out on that particular part of the gene pool.

I was reminded of this recently when we gathered for our family Christmas celebration. The beach house she found for all 11 of us was perfect. Christmas dinner was served on her special holiday china, carefully packed and brought just for the occasion. The informal open house she hosted so her friends could meet her far flung family was planned to the last hors d’oeuvres. And she baked up several batches of her delicious walnut bars, at once sweet and chewy and crunchy; a holiday tradition and family favourite.

Best of all, she made a tin for each of us to take home: a sweet reminder of a wonderful week together, beautifully orchestrated, the hard work and planning evident only in the lists occasionally glimpsed throughout the week. As I carefully tucked the precious tin in my bag, I realised I had gotten it wrong. Lucia was right to say that she wasn’t organised. Organization makes things happen. Love and thoughtfulness makes things great.

So, as you celebrate Valentine's Day with your favourite sweetie, whip up a batch of Lucia's walnut bars. Four simple ingredients, almost sure to be in your house. To make them especially good, add her secret ingredient: loving kindness. It will put them over the top.

The dark hair is gone but the blue eyes and love of figs remain!

Lucia's Amazing Walnut Bars
makes 25-30 squares

1½ sticks butter (either salted or unsalted)

1 cup brown sugar (slightly packed)

1½ cup finely chopped walnuts (or pecans)

20-24 whole graham cracker wafers

1 Preheat oven to 350F

2. In a medium sauce pan, Heat until all is melted. Set aside to cool slightly.

3. While mixture is cooling, place foil on a 9x12 rimmed cookie sheet. Spray lightly with non stick spray. Lay whole graham crackers on the cookie sheet, ensuring that there aren’t any spaces between each cracker. You may need to trim some crackers to have the whole tray set flush.

4. Spread nut mixture on and level with a spoon or spatula, making sure to reach all of the edges of the crackers.

5. Bake 10 to 12 minutes, or until mixture is bubbling. Be careful not to bake too long, so that the sugar doesn’t burn.

6. Carefully lift foil out of pan from one side and slide on to counter/cutting board. Cut into 1½ squares. These cool very quickly so it’s better to cut while still hot. Let cool completely. Place in airtight container, using wax paper between layers.

Can be made ahead although they won’t last for long!

Holiday Open House Countdown Part Three: It's the Little Things

noreply@blogger.com (Eliz) — Sun, 18 Dec 2011 13:39:00 +0000

Every year, when I’m cooking dozens and dozens of hors d’oeuvres for the Open House, I’m reminded of Mrs. Flax, the mother in the movie Mermaids. Played brilliantly by Cher, Mrs Flax only cooks finger food because anything else, she proclaims, is too much of a commitment.

I know what she means. A marshmallow kebab is assembled in a matter of seconds, while a lasagne takes time, patience and love.

But a funny thing happens when you’re making hors d’oeuvres in bulk. The same time, patience and love that you commit to a full blown meal works its way into every dip or meatball, every fondue and tapenade.

We’ve done pretty much everything we can do now. Dishes made ahead are defrosting; table set, serving dishes labelled and at the ready. The servers will be here in less than five hours, the guests hot on their heels, hungry and happy and full of holiday spirit.

As I share one more recipe and five more favourite Open House tips with you, I know that every dish we’ve laboured over, sprinkled with a lot of patience and seasoned with love, is worth the time and commitment we make to this seasonal celebration. May your own holiday celebrations be just as meaningful, and just as much fun.

Arancini
adapted from Martha Stewart Hors d’Ouevres Handbook
makes 3 dozen

These little risotto balls (arancini means "little orange" in Italian) are delicious warm or room temperature and can be made ahead. I've adapted the recipe by adding a savoury meat filling that makes these little bites even more satisfying.

For the risotto

4 cups chicken broth

1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
2 large shallots
1 c Arborio rice
½ c dry white wine
1 tsp salt
Freshly ground black pepper
2 tbsp chopped parsley
1 oz Parmigiano Reggiano cheese, grated
½ cup all purpose flour
2 large eggs, lightly beaten
½ cup yellow cornmeal or fine dry breadcrumbs
2 quarts peanut oil, for frying

1. Bring stock to a simmer over medium heat. Reduce heat to low and keep warm.

2. Heat the olive oil over medium heat, and cook the shallots until translucent. Add the rice and the salt, stirring frequently to coat all of the grains, until the edges of the rice become translucent.

3. Add the wine and cook, stirring, until nearly all of the wine is absorbed into the rice. Add 1 cup of the stock and cook, stirring constantly, until nearly all of the stock is absorbed.

4. Continue adding stock, ½ cup at a time, stirring constantly, until the rice is creamy but still firm, about 20 minutes. Season with pepper to taste. Stir in the parsley and Parmesan.

5. Remove from the heat and transfer to a large bowl. Allow the rice to cool completely, stirring occasionally. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate until firm and thoroughly chilled. The mixture must be cold before proceeding with the recipe.

For the meat filling

¼ c olive oil

1 each small onion, carrot and celery stalk, finely chopped

¼ lb each ground pork and veal, mixed

1 c Marsala

½ c beef stock

1 tbsp tomato paste

2 tbsp minced parsley

1. In a medium saucepan, heat the olive oil over medium heat. Add the onion, carrot and celery and cook until softened.

2. Add the meat, stirring to break up, and cook until just browned; do not overcook. Add the Marsala, and turn heat to high; scrape up browned bits as you deglaze the pan. Reduce liquid by half.

3. Add the three remaining ingredients, turn heat to medium and simmer until thickened, about 15-20 minutes. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

4. If the risotto is chilled, proceed with recipe, otherwise the meat filling can be stored in the refrigerator overnight. Reheat gently to release juices before proceeding with recipe.

5. Place 1 generous tablespoon of the risotto in the palm of your hand, pack it lightly and make an indentation in the centre. Place a teaspoon of the meat mixture in the centre of the rice. Enclose the meat with the risotto to form a ball. Don't worry if the meat is not perfectly centred in the ball. Repeat with the remaining risotto and meat, placing finished arancini on parchment-lined trays. The arancini may be covered and refrigerated overnight at this stage.

6. Place the flour in a small rimmed baking tray. Place the eggs in a shallow bowl and the cornmeal or breadcrumbs in a small rimmed baking tray. Roll the arancini first in the flour, gently shaking off any excess. Dip the balls into the egg mixture, being sure to let any excess egg drip off before rolling in the cornmeal.

7. Heat the peanut oil in a large deep skillet. Carefully slip as many arancini as will fit comfortably in the pan into the hot oil, and fry until golden, 2 to 4 minutes. Repeat until all of the arancini are cooked. Drain the arancini on paper towels and keep warm until ready to serve.

The arancini can be prepared and cooked one day in advance and reheated in the oven before serving, or formed and refrigerated, uncooked, two days in advance.

Five Tips For Prepping a Party For a Crowd

1. Do what restaurants do: sear your meat in advance and finish cooking a la minute. Lamb chops are an Open House standard for us. We marinate the racks and sear the meat in advance. On party day, all that's left to do is the final broil.

Marinated...

...and seared, ready to be finished the next day

2. Don't limit yourself to hors d’oeuvres recipes. Rethink your favourite main course dishes and think about how you can downsize them. Have a killer lasagne recipe? Make it, cook it, cool it, precut into little squares, freeze it and presto - lasagne "bites" that you can reheat on party day.

3. When we host a dinner party, I always seem to buy too much bread. With a food ethic that says "never throw anything away", I slice those half baguettes and freeze them. Then, whenever I'm throwing a party, I thaw out the slices and toast for crostini/bruschette bottoms. For the Open House, I also make my own. One large baguette yields more than two dozen crostini and cost a couple of dollars; a fancy box of crostini yields far less than that, some of them broken, and cost $5.49. You do the math.

4. While I do have an extra fridge and freezer in the basement, I also use every available space to keep things cold. The garage doubles as a giant fridge at this time of year, as does the back porch. Especially handy for beverages (see tip #5).

5. We always serve a delicious non-alcoholic punch that both adults and kids love. I prep four batches in advance in empty extra large cranberry juice bottles, combining everything but the carbonated ingredients. On party day, I pour a batch into the punch bowl, add the remaining bubbles, stir and serve.

I'm off to do my last minute prep. Wishing you a lovely Sunday, wherever you may be.

Holiday Open House Countdown Part Two: Gingerbread Cookies

noreply@blogger.com (Eliz) — Sat, 10 Dec 2011 10:00:00 +0000

Holiday Pop Quiz:

Gingerbread originated in which country?

a. Sweden

b. Armenia

c. France

If you’re anything like me, random facts, stats, historical footnotes and unusual bits of information intrigue and stick with me. For some reason, I can conveniently forget to pay the phone bill but miraculously remember that the name Wendy was made up for the play Peter Pan, or that Canadians eat more Kraft Dinner per capita than any other country in the world.

I especially love knowing those random and fascinating facts about food. Why mint with lamb? Is Greek yogurt really of Greek origin? And, as I baked more than 17 dozen gingerbread cookies this past weekend for our holiday Open House, I wondered - just where does gingerbread come from?

You’ll have plenty of time to decide if it’s Sweden, Armenia or France while you bake up a batch of my favourite, go-to gingerbread cookies. I’ll admit I’ve tweaked the recipe quite a bit over the years, adding more spices and heightening the ginger-to-molasses ratio. Before you do your own tinkering, try the original version below, from LCBO’s Food and Drink magazine. And if you really need to know the answer about where gingerbread comes from before you break your first egg, scroll to the end of the post.

Gingerbread Cookies

from LCBO Food and Drink magazine

yields approximately four dozen*

*NB: The yield is entirely dependant on the size of the cookie cutters used. Naturally, the smaller the cutter the greater the yield, but you are also limiting your ability to later personalise the cookies.

2 tsp baking soda

1 tsp salt
1 tbsp powdered ginger
4 tsp cinnamon
6 c unsifted all purpose flour
1 c vegetable shortening

1¾ c brown sugar

1¼ c white sugar

4 tsp molasses

3 large eggs, room temperature

½ c milk

1. Preheat oven to 325°F.

2. Sift together the baking soda, salt, ginger, cinnamon and flour. Set aside.

3. In a stand mixer, cream together the shortening, the two sugars and molasses until light and fluffy, about 5 minutes. Add the eggs one at a time and continue to cream until incorporated.

4. Add a little of the flour mixture to the creamed ingredients, incorporating fully before adding more. When the dough begins to stiffen, begin alternating flour mixture with milk, until both are incorporated. Mix until a dough is formed. Cover the dough and refrigerate for at least one hour.

5. Roll out the dough on a floured surface, about a ¼ inch thick. Cut out gingerbread with cookie cutters. If you intend to use the cookies as ornaments, form a hole at the top of the cookie using a straw or chopstick, about a ¼ inch from the top.

6. Bake cookies until golden brown at the edges, about 20-25 minutes. Cool on racks and store until ready to decorate.

Five Tips for Baking Gingerbread Cookies

1. Start early. Gingerbread is hardy. If well cooled and stored in an airtight container, the cookies can be baked weeks in advance.

2. Sift dry ingredients ahead of time. If you`re making lots of cookies, sift the dry ingredients for each batch ahead of time and store in Ziplock bags. It`s an extra step done and makes the work go much more quickly.

3. Make the dough and prepare the cookies sheets in batches too. Because the dough has to rest for at least an hour, I spend one evening making the dough and store it in the fridge and then do a massive baking the next night. Instead of popping every tray in the oven as they're full, I do five full sheets at a time, eliminating the need to constantly open the oven door.

4. Use chopsticks to form the holes...both before and after baking. The holes tend to lose their shape during baking; a quick turn in each cookie ensures you`ll be able to thread ribbon through much more easily.

Reinforce ribbon holes in still-warm cookies

5. Buy extra oven racks and use the convection setting. I only really bake en masse once a year, but even so that one time made it worth it for me to buy three extra oven racks from my oven manufacturer for mass baking. Plus, I`m able to use those extra racks for reheating hors d'oeuvres during the Open House. I also started using the convection setting on my oven, shaving about 10 minutes from the baking time of each batch.

Click here for a super Royal Icing recipe that`s perfect to decorate these brown beauties.

*******

So, where did gingerbread originate? According to Wikipedia, gingerbread was brought to France via Pompeii in 992 by the Armenian monk Gregory of Nicopolis. The recipe later spread to Sweden and to the nether regions of Europe, every country adding a twist to make it their own. The constant is the spicy heat from ginger and the abundance of spices in general, reflecting the tendency to use the most rare and coveted ingredients for the Christmas feast.

Holiday Open House Countdown: Part One

noreply@blogger.com (Eliz) — Tue, 29 Nov 2011 12:25:00 +0000

I used to adore Christmas. I was the one who got up before all my siblings, going down the stairs on my tippy toes to scope out the presents piled high beneath the tree, checking to see if the milk and cookies were gone, biting down a squeal of delight if there was magical snow on the ground. My older, wiser sisters slept more peacefully, knowing that the thrill of anticipation is best cultivated by waiting, waiting, a little bit longer for gratification.

The obligatory beauty shot with the Christmas tree, pre-Santa visit

Invariably a gift or two was forgotten. There would be a wayward box tucked high in the closet, perhaps with new pyjamas, or maybe, if I was especially lucky, a new doll. New dolls being a rarity in a house with two older sisters and frugal, hand-me-down parents. My mother would suddenly slip away, coming back with the errant package, hastily wrapped and “forgotten” by Santa. Even when I was old enough to catch on, these last minute random gifts seemed somehow special, apart from the rest, and those pyjamas, that doll, treasured all the more for almost having been missed.

Those Christmases of a lifetime ago seem almost as mythical as Dickens. Nowadays, Christmas is a very different affair. My parents are both gone. My sisters and I, although still very close, live many miles and lives apart. And, as hard as we’ve tried, we just can’t seem to interest our cat in either new pyjamas or dolls (although a brand new catnip toy does garner more than passing interest). Time for new traditions, new ways of celebrating and sharing a spirit of joy during the Christmas season.

And thus was born our annual Holiday Open House. An iron-clad tradition, it started as a modest affair with 30 friends and family popping by to nibble on hors d’oeuvres and share a convivial hour or two. Sixteen years and three kitchens later, it is the bellwether for us that the season of giving has truly arrived, and with it, a chance to reconnect, relax, share and celebrate all that is good about Christmas.

With more than 80 people now regularly in attendance, and all of the food prepared by us, I modestly think we’ve become somewhat expert at throwing a ‘do. One that we know is as eagerly anticipated by all who come as it is by us who plan it.

As we begin the four week countdown to the big day – December 18 this year – I thought I would take you along on the journey, sharing tips, tricks, recipes and survival tactics for how to throw a party with aplomb, verve, passion and enthusiasm. Because I do firmly believe that even the most disastrous of events can be salvaged with a bit of verve and a lot of enthusiasm.

Five Tips for a Memorable Holiday Gathering

1. Send proper invitations. By that I mean in the mail. You remember mail, right? When it was exciting to receive a beautiful silver envelope amongst all of the junk and the bills? People still get excited by personal invitations and for the little bit more time and effort, it makes a wonderful impact. Yes, I know I know; you can’t keep track of RSVPs electronically; you can’t automatically send reminders; you won’t know who FOR SURE is coming and with whom – but do you ever really anyway? For years we even made our invites by hand but time and common sense in the form of my husband prevailed. Do what we do and look for beautiful invitations on sale after Christmas. Plan ahead for the next year (but remember where you put them!).

From the complex to the silly: handmade invites of Open Houses past

2. Hire help. For goodness sake, don’t be a martyr. Hire people to help you serve/clean/clear/take coats. Even if the gathering is small, hire a local college student (or pay your older kids) to pitch in and help. Even better – if there’s a local culinary or hospitality school, post your party there. You’ll get someone who’s enthusiastic about food. You’ll be more relaxed and more importantly you’ll be able to spend time with your guests. For our annual do, we hire five wait staff: two to do last minute prep for food, and three to do the rest.

3. Simplify your food choices. Finger foods are fun easy to prepare and many can be made and frozen in advance. I also stick with all savoury. Introducing sweets means coffee, tea, etc etc.

Pastry cirlces for mini meat pies that can be baked, frozen, and pre-heated as needed

4. Remember it’s the season of giving. Amidst all of the bounty, we try to remember those who have less than us. Every year we accept donations to our Daily Bread Food Bank. With the abundance on the table, it makes us feel great to collect those boxes and boxes of food.

The generosity of our guests in full evidence

5. Give everyone a little something special to take home. Every year we make each guest a personalised gingerbread cookie. It’s probably the most laborious thing we do, but perhaps the most satisfying. I love seeing the look on the kids’ faces when they’re handed a cookie with their name on it. And nothing beats the smell of gingerbread baking.

Stay tuned for more as we gear up and count down. This is truly one of our favourite things – perhaps it will become one for you too.

Plate to Page - Eating and Drinking in la Bella Toscana

noreply@blogger.com (Eliz) — Wed, 02 Nov 2011 13:36:00 +0000

How many days does it take, I wonder, to get perfectly accustomed to having wine at every meal? In la bella Toscana, it seems the answer is barely two. Just days into the Plate to Page workshop and already I’m anticipating the wine we’ll have with lunch at Il Salicone winery.

Il Salicone is not your typical Tuscan winery. It’s an artisanal operation, producing small batch Sangiovese blend wines that are more likely to find their way into demijohns for local purchase as they are to be bottled and sold at retail. There’s no proper restaurant; tables are set outside, mismatched glasses and plastic utensils belying the feast that’s to come. The three signore preparing our meal smile and say “buon giorno” as we walk through the kitchen and out onto the simple terrace.

There couldn’t be a more perfect day for it, with the sun so blazingly hot it feels more like July than October. There’s barely a whisper of a breeze and even the birds seemed fooled into thinking it’s summer, singing like crazy as they scramble for stray crumbs. The meal is brought out and almost offhandedly laid before us. Platters abound: chicken liver crostini; cheese with acacia honey; simple salume. Ribollita¸ a slow cooked soup of day old bread and seasonal vegetables are here, along with a choice of fritatte: cheese, pancetta or leeks. The Poggioalcanto we’re drinking is just right with this Tuscan spread: full and fruity, without the rough edge that many Sangiovese wines seem to have.

We sit back, sated. And then la signora comes out with one last bite – a plate of cantuccini, traditional Tuscan almond cookies. Twice baked to draw out the moisture, cantuccini are deliberately hard and dry, to store them for long periods of time, as was the original intent, or better yet, to dip them into our wine. I move to a shady spot to savour this last bite. As I dip the cantuccio, it absorbs the liquid like a sponge, transforming it from buttery yellow to a deep plum, and softening it just enough to take a resounding bite. Sweet and acidic, soft and hard, the conflicting sensations combine somehow in the most satisfying way.

I drain the last sip in my glass, thankful that the next meal – and next glass of wine – is only hours away.

************

This blog post was conceived and written at the recent Plate to Page Tuscany workshop, in partnership with Marta Majewska, who blogs at Princess Misia. Marta is a fantastic photographer, and shot the first and the last photo in this post, while I captured the words that described our experience, and the biscotti in the middle. Thanks, Marta, for being an amazing assignment partner and a great roommate to boot! And hugs to Valentina Jacome, our other roomie, who blogs in Portuguese at Trem Bom.

And if you are passionate about food and blogging, and you haven't heard of Plate to Page Tuscany, get thee to their website. The four organisers are not only truly successful food bloggers; they are absolutely delightful, and the very best hosts for an intensive, engaging writing and photography workshop. The next Plate to Page is taking place in Somerset, Engalnd; be sure to register your interest!

With thanks to the P2P rock stars: Ilva Beretta of Lucullian Delights, Jeanne Horak-Druiff of Cook Sister!,Meeta Kurana Wolff of What's For Lunch, Honey?, and Jamie Schler of Life's a Feast. Watch this space for more P2P posts!

La Bella Italia: Panzanella Salad from la cucina povera

noreply@blogger.com (Eliz) — Sun, 23 Oct 2011 23:19:00 +0000

Always the freshest produce at the Italian market

Necessity, as they say, is the mother of invention.

Born to Italian immigrants, I saw this first hand growing up. We reused and recycled long before it was fashionable; everything was saved and nothing went to waste. Nowhere was that more apparent than around food. The parmigiano rind went into the soup, adding depth and richness of flavour. Drippings were carefully strained and preserved. Coffee grinds and egg shells made a rich compost, the better to grow our tomatoes, zucchini and peppers.

That is also how the most delicious of Italian dishes have been born. La cucina povera – literally the poor kitchen – is represented by those dishes where a little had to go a long way, a piece of meat was precious, scarce and longed for, and nothing ever went to waste. Pappa al pomodoro – bread and tomato soup. Risi e bisi – rice and beans. Acquacotta – literally “cooked water” soup, into which all of the day’s scraps were combined to make a warming (and delicious) broth.

Rolling Tuscan hills as far as the eye can see at Fattoria di Montalbano

The view at breakfast - an idyllic spot to start the day

We began our recent two week Italian holiday in an agriturismo just south of Florence – Fattoria di Montalbano. We had rented Il Trebbiali, a six bedroom villa on the grounds of the Nustrini farm. Charming, comfortable and with a big homey Tuscan kitchen, I had visions of cooking up a storm of Italian delicacies. As it happened, dinner was more often than not a gorgeous plate of salume and cheese, accompanied by delicious Chianti.

Enjoying a sundowner at Il Trebbiali

On our last night at Il Trebbiali, we planned to use the last of what was in the fridge. And so it was that I experienced firsthand la cucina povera. Upon inspection, there wasn’t much left, but I knew what was there would be great. I’d assemble a plate of the remaining finocchiona, prosciutto and pecorino; the fresh sausages we bought at the local marcelleria would be grilled, and we’d finish with perhaps my favourite of the cucina povera repertoire: panzanella – a tomato, bread and cucumber salad that humbly combines a handful of ingredients into a splendid dish.

Panzanella Salad
serves four comfortably, and two greedily

A half a loaf or more of good quality day old Italian bread. The bread must be old; this is not the time to use a fresh loaf
Olive oil
One garlic clove, cut in half
6-8 really ripe but firm tomatoes. Forget the hard tasteless fruits of winter and greenhouses
1 English cucumber
4-6 leaves fresh basil, torn
More olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste

1. Slice the bread into thick pieces. Rub the cut clove over one side and generously brush both sides of the bread with olive oil. Grill the bread over a charcoal grill, turning the pieces until both sides are browned and toasted. Set bread aside to cool.

2. Roughly chop the tomatoes and put them in a large serving bowl. Some recipes for panzanella call for the tomatoes to be peeled and seeded; I say - this is a rustic salad. La mamma would have dispensed with such niceties when trying to feed a hungry family.

3. Trim the cucumber and chop into bite sized pieces. Add to the tomatoes. Add the basil.

4. Cut the bread into large crouton-style cubes. Add to the tomatoes and toss all three ingredients until well combined.

5. Add a generous amount of olive oil (at least 2 tbsp) and salt and pepper to taste. Toss, taste and adjust seasonings if necessary.

The salad can be made ahead, enough so that the juices develop and the bread absorbs some of the tomato flavour but not so much that you have soggy bread. If you are making ahead, add the basil just before serving and give a final toss to combine ingredients.

Serve at the end of a Tuscan meal, preferably during sunset, and finish with a delightful bottle of Chianti.

Buon appetito!

La Bella Italia

noreply@blogger.com (Eliz) — Thu, 20 Oct 2011 17:00:00 +0000

It's been so long since I've updated duckandcake, but it's not a shortage of stories that's stopping me. In between life, which has been full tilt and non-stop busy, Richard and I escaped to Italy for a blissful two week holiday. Stay tuned as I share stories, great places to stay and visit, recipes and most of all our wonderful food experiences.

Pranzo in Spoleto and a taste of posts to come...

A presto, amici!

Just Peachy: Homemade Peach Salsa

noreply@blogger.com (Eliz) — Sat, 03 Sep 2011 12:44:00 +0000

I can’t believe it’s already September. It’s the time of year that becomes measured by the retail count-down calendar. Back to school is barely over before Halloween candies and Thanksgiving turkeys creep into the grocery aisles. And when I hear that first Christmas carol on the radio, I know that snow and short dark days are not far behind.

But I know I'll forget all of that when I see what’s at the farmers’ market today. An embarrassment of tomato riches. Ripe peaches and plums. Early apples, mouth-puckering tart. Glorious corn. It’s when I wish we had a houseful of kids so that I can buy bushels of produce.

A year after I discovered the joys of canning and preserving, I’m itching to buy those bushels anyway and lock summer in a jar. The sad truth is that I just don't have the time. It’s the choices around time that are the hardest ones to make of all. I’ve been away from home for far too long and too much these past three weeks to buy three bushels of tomatoes and lock myself in the kitchen making sauce. Striking the balance between what feeds our soul and what feeds our relationships is a constant struggle. So, right now, I'll spend my weekend reconnecting with my husband, my house and my life, satisfied in the knowledge that I managed to make the most of some gorgeous summer peaches three weeks ago.

Peach Salsa
makes about 8 8-oz jars

Although I have several cookbooks devoted to canning and preserving, my go-to is the Bernardin Complete Book of Home Preserving. I use it more as a guide than a step by step, especially when it comes to sugar quantities. This is my version of the Bernardin peach salsa, modified to let the peach flavour really shine.

½ c white vinegar
10 c peeled and chopped peaches
1 chopped red onion
2 jalapeno peppers, finely chopped
1 red bell pepper, seeded and chopped
¼ c chopped cilantro
2 tbsp honey
½ tbsp cumin
¼ tsp cayenne pepper

1. Put all ingredients in a large non reactive pot and stir gently to combine. Bring to a boil over medium high heat, stirring constantly. Reduce heat and bring to a rolling simmer for five minutes, continuing to stir until the salsa is thickened slightly.

2. Ladle hot salsa in prepared jars and process in a hot water bath for 15 minutes. Remove jars from water, check for proper sealing, cool and store.*

Use this mildly piquant salsa with with pork, fish or grilled meats

*If you haven't canned before, refer back to my post on Italian Plum Jam, which includes a step-by-step pictorial and some great links to preserving websites

Made in Japan: On-Line Auction for A Fund for Jennie

noreply@blogger.com (Eliz) — Sun, 28 Aug 2011 20:29:00 +0000

On March 11, we all watched with horror as Japan experienced first a devastating earthquake and then an even more destructive tsunami. Amidst the tragedy and uncertainty, what happened next was truly inspiring, as the world gathered to take the Japanese people in its arms and give them comfort, in whatever way it could.

The tsunami was on my mind this week while I was in Tokyo on business. On the surface, Tokyo is the same as ever – an exciting, eclectic city, filled with wonderful people and the weird and wacky things that make Japan so unique. Taxi drivers with their white gloves and immaculate crocheted covered seats. Shops dedicated to making and selling just one thing: crackers, say, or egg omelettes. The tiny restaurants and cafes that serve completely fresh and seasonal food as a matter of course, their popularity measured by the long and patient lines of patrons waiting to be seated.

Sakura (cherry flavoured) tempura-style bun from Agemaju Asakusa Kokonoe, a little stall that sells nothing but five flavours of tempura-style buns

But deeply, fundamentally, something has changed in Japan. As one person described it to me, “Meaningful experiences matter more than ever, especially with our families. And making a difference for others has never been so important.”

Making a difference was on my mind this week, too. The Twittersphere was full of a call to action; a communal gathering to comfort, to offer succour, to try and assuage another deep and fundamental wound. When Jennifer Perillo lost her husband suddenly and cruelly a few weeks ago, friends and strangers alike responded with the deep need to help make a devastating blow bearable in whatever way they could. From making peanut butter pies to launching a donation fund, to creating the most amazing online auctions, we’ve tried to gather Jennie in our arms. I’m sure you’ve read about this and, like me, have marvelled at the generosity of people.

I wanted to do my part to help, and with the perfect opportunity to pick up some wonderful Japanese products, I’m launching my own online auction for Jennie. Made in Japan features items you’ll be able to bid on that have come with me direct from Tokyo this week, and represent a wide variety of Japanese goods to surprise, delight and enjoy.

Included in the Made in Japan auction:

Two knives from Sugimoto, a company that has been making knives since the 1830s. The tiny shop at Tsukji Market is worth seeking out. I bought two knives from Sugimoto last year and am a big fan. The auction features a stainless steel Western style 6” general purpose knife and a 4” single edge honed traditional Japanese carbon blade, wood handled vegetable knife (for right handed cooks). Also from Sugimoto – a pair of fish tweezers for picking out the fine bones from your next salmon fillet.

A set of two beautiful lacquer ware cups from Urusi. The finish is satiny smooth and cups can be used for either hot or cold beverages

Two sizes of suribachi with a surikogi. The suribachi is a Japanese mortar used with a pestle (the surikogi). In Japanese cooking the suribachi is used to crush sesame seed. Smaller versions can be used to grate fresh wasabi or ginger.

Set of eight small appetizer dishes; two shapes, each with four different patterns

Delightful baking supplies. Two packs (100 each) of whimsical cupcake holders and a stencil for making special personalised cookies

A shichimi togarashi set (pictured right) from Yagenbori, a company that has been in business since 1625. They make the delicious seven spice blend known as shichimi togarashi, which is blended to order with every purchase. This blend is the “medium” version; my favourite way to use it is in sautéed kale, and the set includes a wooden holder for the spice

Yuzu Sencha tea with Matcha from Jugetsudo. This tea is delicious hot or cold and makes a particularly refreshing drink with its unique yuzu flavour. Plus matcha powder, with recipes

Sweet treats, including sugar coated soy beans and pretty sugar candies

And my favourite item: coasters in three colours with the following message: Welcome. Please relax slowly while drinking the drink. Sage advice indeed.

The value of the auction items is $450. Bidding starts at $100. To bid,
leave a comment below with your bid amount. Bidding will end on Friday, September 2 at 11:59 pm Eastern time – just before the stroke of midnight. NEW: I will include shipping for anywhere in continental North America.

As the Japanese say, hito wa itawari atte ikite ikanakereba narimasen: people have to live by caring for each other. Bloggers Without Borders is still accepting donations to A Fund For Jennie, with the proceeds going directly to Jennie and her two girls. Click here to give whatever you can; every dollar counts and helps.

Arigatou gozaimasu – thank you very much, and good luck!

BSP2 Part Two: Who Made the Quinoa Salad?

noreply@blogger.com (Eliz) — Mon, 08 Aug 2011 10:16:00 +0000

For someone who travels as much as I do, you'd think I'd be a light packer.

I consider it a success if I can manage to pack for a week with just five pairs of shoes (I’m counting my running shoes as part of the five, mind). While I do plan ahead, and know exactly what I’ll be wearing when, I like to have options, shall we say. And then there’s the matter of the “shop opp”. Even with the smallest of suitcases, I always bring a fold up bag that expands to duffel size proportions. Because you just never know when a shop opp will present itself.

But when I went to Big Summer Potluck, I was determined to bring just a carry on. Criteria were simple: only three pairs of shoes – max. Room for an optional top (or two). And most importantly: space for my potluck salad ingredients, which included six cups each of cooked red rice and quinoa. I felt practically empty-handed as I wheeled my cute little pink Zuca through the airport.

I’ll spare you the details of the delayed flights, the six-lane freeway closure, the fact that I couldn’t find watercress for the salad. What matters is I finally arrived at the Anderson home –the setting for the first evening gathering and our kick-off potluck dinner – salad in hand.

The fabulous Anderson home

High stakes when you bring food to a food blogger event and it’s being hosted by Pam Anderson. Even higher when’s it’s a gluten-free affair. But people who are obsessed with food are generous souls, and seek nothing more than to gather round the feast. Because we all know that every dish is made with love, spiced with humour and served with pride.

And so my quinoa salad was eaten down to the last bite. And me, the very proud lighter packer, went home with the biggest (and heaviest) prize of all – a glorious candy apple red Kitchen Aid stand mixer. Betty, as she is proudly named (thanks Jenny), now sits on my kitchen counter. A constant reminder of the generosity of spirit that is BSP2. With thanks to Kitchen Aid and eight second hugs all around for the fabulous Andersons and Erika of The Ivory Hut.

Betty, comfortably at home at chez duckandcake

Red Rice and Quinoa Salad with Dried Cherries, Walnuts and Capers
serves 4 as a side dish

I knew the salad was a hit when The Tough Cookie came downstairs during dinner and demanded to know "Who made the quinoa salad?" This salad is dedicated to Gail, who will make it, and Jackie, who will eat it.

1 cup each cooked red rice and quinoa, rinsed and drained
⅓ c chopped walnuts
⅓ c dried cherries
1-2 tbsp capers, rinsed and drained
Zest of one lemon
¼ chopped mint
½ c chopped watercress (or chopped spinach)
2 tbsp minced chives
Salt (optional)*

*Salting the rice and quinoa while cooking, and the addition of capers to the salad, should make the salad plenty salty.

Combine all of the ingredients together in an attractive bowl and serve. The salad is a great make-ahead dish; refrigerate several hours ahead and bring it to room temperature before serving.

Big Summer Potluck 2, Part One: On Becoming a Food Blogger

noreply@blogger.com (Eliz) — Wed, 03 Aug 2011 11:24:00 +0000

A breakfast feast at BSP2, featuring fresh peaches, gluten-free muffins and homemade jam from Sugarcrafter

I remember the first time I wondered if I was really a bona fide blogger, even a part-time one, which was all I was aspiring to be. I was having that most perfect of Saturday morning indulgences – a pedicure – and as the aesthetician and I chatted, I mentioned I had a food blog. “I have a blog too!” she said. It was a mommy blog, and she had started it a month earlier. We exchanged URLs, and when I got home I looked up her site. I had written nine posts that month – quite an accomplishment, I thought, for my little hobby. Erika had written 80. Not eight – 80. Whoa.

I had dipped a toe in the water of food blogs barely six months before. Ready-made Blogger template; barely a notion of how to tag, let alone what it would do for my Google ranking. Monetize? I had gingerly put two food-related ads on my blog; the cheque must still be in the mail. Every new follower was a triumph and it didn’t matter that the number hardly changed from week to week (well, it did, but this was a hobby, right?). I thought I took decent photos with my little point and shoot.

I was amazed at the size and diversity of the food blogging community. I threw a stone in the pond and I joined Foodbuzz, Cook Eat Share, The Daring Kitchen, Charcutepalooza. With each ripple, I saw the community was legion, and I couldn’t even make out the distant shore. Relationships mattered, and Twitter provided a way to form immediate connections, even if at arm’s length and more like cousins twice removed than siblings.

The beautifully simple table setting at Linden Hill Gardens

And that’s how I heard about Big Summer Potluck. It hardly mattered what it was; what did matter was that it seemed to be a MUST ATTEND event (and if @thepeche said so, I was smart enough to believe it). It seemed a friendly thing – somewhere in the middle of Pennsylvania – and with just the right amount of people; not too big to be overwhelming, not too small to feel out of step with all those who would surely know one another. And so I bought a ticket. With that weird blend of low and massive expectations, I made my way by two planes and an automobile to Ottsville, PA, quinoa and rice salad in tow.

I learned a lot. Not about SEO, or monetization, or tagging or writing the perfect post. I learned that a moment can be an idea. That the hardest part of getting a great photo is getting past yourself. That you need a point of departure - what, exactly, are you trying to say with those words? That photo? The post? And that it's okay not to know the answer to those questions when you start.

Chickens at Linden Hill - living in the moment

At BSP2 last weekend I wondered again if I was a bona fide blogger. But for the first time, I finally got permission to be exactly the kind of blogger I can be, with the expectations not formed by some amorphous and invisible host of judges, but by me. That was the life lesson, amongst many, that Shauna James Ahern, the wonderful Gluten-Free Girl, imparted. Get real and be real, girl (and boy). Expose your messy self. It's what matters and what makes a connection count. Yes, indeed.

The radiant Penny de los Santos.

Perhaps by now you’ve read some of the amazing and moving blog posts written by others who were at BSP2. If you haven’t you should know that Penny de los Santos is a wizard – not just with her camera, but with her ability to spellbind a room and recreate a photograph that all of us could see as clearly as if it were in front of us. [Click here to see the incredible photographs that Penny was describing and the read the beautiful story They Remember Home by Annia Ciezadlo]. I have never been so inspired and felt so connected to a speaker before – but that’s because this was a personal conversation and Penny offering her art (and self) up to us with arms wide open. And that was her point, really. As Penny says, photography is a metaphor for life - and that magical moment of making a connection, of drawing people in - is what really matters.

Expectations? Beyond exceeded. But that's what happens when you think you're going to a food blogger event and you find yourself connected to an instant family of friends.

So am I a bona fide blogger? If what that means is that I am passionate about what I write, that it matters to me, and that I am being my real self - then I think the answer is yes. It matters less that I have the requisite photo of ingredients with "easy and delicious recipes that you can make for dinner tonight!" (guilty as charged). It matters more that I am connected - to myself first of all, and then hopefully to you too. I hope you stick around to see how it all comes out.

[With a huge 8 second hug and thanks to Maggy of Three Many Cooks and Erika of The Ivory Hut for an amazing event. Can't wait 'til next year!]