February 20th, 2009

Dulce de leche

#1–(describes delicious dulce de leche filled pastry he bought once in a store)

Me–I once saw a recipe for that where you just take a can of sweetened condensed milk and boil it in a pan of water for hours. That’s it! So simple.

#1–Hmmm…interesting.

#2–You know, a lot of pressure can build up in that can, and sometimes they can explode. You have to time it really carefully. How long do you boil it for?

Me–Dunno. But I’m sure it said in the recipe.

#3–Maybe you should open the can a little bit, so that steam can escape?

#2–No, it has to be in the sealed can for it to work. But then if it explodes there’s all this busted metal coated with boiling sticky milk flying around. You could get really hurt.

Me–I’m sure that mostly doesn’t happen. In general.

#2–I’m worried about you specifically doing this.

Me–I wasn’t going to do it. I just mentioned it cause *he* said–

#3–I don’t want you to do this, Rebecca. You can buy dulce de leche in a can.

#4–A can that doesn’t need to be cooked.

Me–Guys, guys, I’m not going to try to make anything that involves boiling syrup under pressure. I know my limits. Last night I was talking on the phone and I fell off the couch.

#2–That’s a relief.

#3–Good!

#1–You failed at sitting!

Me–Yes, I suppose I did. Thanks for phrasing it just that way.

February 8th, 2009

25 Meals (with meaning)

1. IV Lounge 10th Anniversary Cake courtesy of Dani Couture (who tagged me in this meme, and probably created it, such wonders that poets are).
2. May 23, 1979–First birthday cake, which I did not consume but only looked at, owing to parents’ theory that babies can’t eat cake (they ate it).
3. Summer 1982–First self-made meal: Two peanut-butter sandwiches, d carried into the yard on cookie sheet (second sandwich was for brother).
4. Similar time as #3–English-muffin mini-pizzas with *ham* on them, offered at a childhood friend’s home; small Rebecca’s first inkling that the world was indeed vaster and more curious than she could ever have dreamt.
5. Vacation Wednesdays, 1982-1988–Fried clams at Howard Johnson’s restaurant, favourite American food.
6. Lunch hour, 1989-1992–Swamp food–trail mix adaptation that my Kim, Mary, Jen and I worked hard on. I think it contained pretty much anything that came in small discrete units–nuts, dried fruit, candy, corn chips, breakfast cereal, popcorn, pretzels.
7.Spring 1992–Pizza and French fries, Old Port of Montreal,
8. June 1992–Chicken salad, tossed salad, buns, chocolate pudding with banana chips on top–Family Studies final project.
9. Tuesdays, 1992-1997–Grilled cheese sandwiches and oatmeal cookes, the only things my high school caf made decently.
10. 4x a year, 1992-1997–Exam pizza.
11. Summer 1994–Roasted nuts in a paper sack from streetvendor, NYC.
12. March 1996–Chocolate hazelnut crepe, also from streetvendor, Paris.
14. September 1997–Bagel, eaten while walking up University Ave., first food eaten as resident of Montreal.
15. October 1997–Pizza Hut pizza and those little garlic bread strips–grad food.
16. 1997-1998–Bow thai pasta, crunchy cheese, counted juices, melon/kidney bean salad, black jello, an awful lot of egg salad–RVC caf food.
17. 1997-2001, post-dancing–Madonna pizza (cheese only), eaten while walking down the street.
18. 1997-2001, as often as possible–shish taouk, extra turnips, eaten while walking down the street.
19. Summer, 2000–First sushi experience, California rolls, Afshan’s place.
20. March 2001–Crackers and soup, brought to me by Anne-Michelle to prevent death by flu.
21. February-April 2002–Bag lunch in glamourous food court that I could not afford.
22. 2002-2005–Jaime’s peanut squares, popcorn out of bins, morning glory muffins, rice krispie squares, bagels with lactose-free cream cheese, Entemann’s coffee cake, and mini-mentos…oh, the Proofville Buffet.
23. Summer 2005–Toronto’s little India, my discovery of barfi.
24. September 7, 2008–Eden Mills Lit Fest, first sweet potato pie, the day I first saw my book!
25. Today–Winterliscious with the gang from #14-19–very excited!

January 27th, 2009

Rose-coloured Reviews Baker’s Chocolate Brownie Recipes

Unlike most not-very-good-cooks, I was actually taught to cook, rather thoroughly. Technically, if you asked me to, I could make you a lattice pie-crust, salmon teriaki, a roux, or cabbage rolls. But if that’s really what you want, would you please go into the other room and sit quietly without talking to me. Complex cooking makes me very nervous, because I know my own scoring record is only about .500 with hard things, and there’s really no telling how it will turn out. Really, if you don’t want any sort of stir-fry/curry/egg derivative, maybe we should just go to a restaurant?

As with most things, my theoretical knowledge of cuisine far outstrips my practical ability. This does, however, enable me to read a recipe with fair insight. I can recognize wonky proportions, overlong cooking times, and bad ideas in general.

And then there’s one of the few things I am actually pretty good at in theory *and* in practice: copyediting. I was trained to copyedit recipes according to the very thorough and exacting Canadian Living house style (can’t find it online, sorry), which makes me hyper-aware of improper metric/imperial measurement conversions, incomplete instructions and all the various ways recipes can leave a cook lamentably at sea.

Because I am too incompetent a cook to easily correct an error in a tricky recipe, and too competent an editor to overlook them even in an easy recipe, I general steer clear of internet recipes. Home cooks too often approximate, leave out steps, get bored after typing out the ingredients list and leave the instructions at “Mix ingredients, put in pan, cook until done.” Cook until done, you see that one all over. Terrifying.

When I wanted to make cheesecake brownies last night and didn’t have a recipe, for reasons too stupid to get into, I wound up Googling with good results for once. I have learned that websites from sources that would be embarrassed at errors are your best bet. By that I mean, those associated with either printed cookbooks or notable chefs or a brand-name products. Only a far better cook than I can deal with recipe sites where people post annonymously.

The Kraft foods websites are very very commerical, but also their recipes are thoroughtly tested, and they very rarely lead you astray (they do suggest you put Jell-o powder in your lemon chicken, but they are quite upfront about that).
The Baker’s chocolate brand is a good one, and their recipes are solidly doable, though some of the ones on the website are pretty inane. It seems like a giant waste to make heart-shaped brownies–all the non-heartshaped scraps!! But this recipe will actually make you a perfectly good pan of brownies, just don’t bother cutting them out! It’s a very nice simple recipe, one bowl and the microwave. I always forget that the reason I don’t often make brownies is not that they are hard, it’s that the ingredients to make the really good ones are expensive. Still, it matters: buy the real dark chocolate squares, and get the pecans instead of walnuts; in my opinion so much better. Actually, my personal preference is for raisins in brownies but, yeah, everybody hates that. Pecans are a good second choice.

I wanted to make a cheesecake topping, but I could only find recipes for a) pan sizes I don’t own or b) to go with packaged brownie mix or c) to go with ingredients I didn’t have (this lack of purchasing enthusiasm might explain some of my culinary failures). Anyway, I wound up making the topping from recipe, although if I’d read to the end I would’ve noticed the comment about it not really being enough cheesecake to cover 13×9 inches, at least for some people.

As it turned out, it was sufficient if you spread it carefully and don’t demand too thick a topping. I liked that neither the brownies nor the topping were terribly sweet, although the brownies are very chocolatey/fudgey and both were quite rich (I used light cream cheese, but I don’t really think that mitigates much). I used the baking time for the plain brownies, 30-35 minutes, but at 32 minutes they were already starting to singe slightly at the corners. The problem could’ve been that I baked them in a weird silicon pan, or it could’ve been that my coolling rack has fallen under the stove and I had to cool them on oven mitts. Well, I have a lot of problems, anyway.

Once they were pretty well coolled, though, it was easy to cut them up into solid discrete squares without a lot of crumbs. And once I’d trimmed off those tiny burnt bits (which I then ate, they weren’t even bad) it was a pretty good gooey-looking set of brownies. The swirls on top, which looked smudgy and odd when raw, are very pretty in the final version. I think these are a good kid/adult food, as cheesecake is sufficently mature, and brownies sufficiently kiddish, and they look pretty enough to appeal to both categories.

The revews from eaters are quite favourable thus far, if not terribly articulate. “Yummy” has come up twice, though, which is really all I ask for.

Oh the boys on the radio
RR

December 29th, 2008

BIRT 2008 (review)

I had a little head-down-on-the-table moment a few weeks ago, when I realized that my 2008 Resolution tally came to about 15% achieved. Not very pretty. The wise council I received, once I pulled my face up from the wood-grain, was that actually, my 2008 resolutions were mainly stupid, so I shouldn’t feel bad about not achieving them, although possibly I should feel bad about making them in the first place.

So, fine, whatever, I’m not even linking to the 2008 resolutions–there were some “interesting” ideas in there. A few were actually ok, though: I succeeded on “attend more readings,” in the best way possible: I had much fun, heard much great poetry and prose and met many lovely folk. I am so addicted to hearing readings now that I don’t think that resolution needs to be repeated.

I came most of the way on “floss every day,” “eat healthily” and “buy non-corporate,” but not fully-completely, so those go back on the list. And then I failed utterly on “stop eating gelatin”, but in retrospect, I think the cosmos aligned to expose me to an abnormally huge amount of gelatin in January and February 2008, making it difficult to get any traction on that particular resolution. So I’m going to try it again, despite some heckling from the peanut gallery.

Ok, so that’s one resolution success, four resolutions to repeat, nine failures and six new resolutions to come up with before Thursday. Not a problem. Just let me rest my cheek here on the desk for a moment.

Tried it in my very own dreams
RR

December 26th, 2008

Gifts

Of *course* Christmas is not really about pretty objects wrapped in pretty paper, much as I do like such things. I occasionally lose track of what Christmas *is* about, it not really being historically my family’s holiday, much as we do like it now. Mainly, it’s just a time of year when kindness as well as prettiness seems more apt to happen, and to be accompanied by friendliness and food and frolic. La! This year, a few of the gifts I received:

–orange scarf with *curly tassels*
–hugs
–glitter cards
–apple-flavoured KitKat
–baking support (because as soon as a ruler, a candy thermometer, “egg wash” or extreme patience is called for in the recipe, I can’t do it by myself)
–lunch at Allen’s
–Deborah Eisenberg’s *Twilight of Superheroes*
–thoughtful review in The Westmount Examiner
–out-of-town friends in town
–baby pictures
–Bill Murray in *Scrooged*
–Christmas carols on every station on FM radio (I listened for about 2 days, which is about right. I firmly believe that people who hate Christmas carols have just been over-exposed).
–new hoop earrings to replace the ones I wrecked 1.5 years ago and never got ’round to buying for myself
–somewhere in the depths of Canada Post right now, a mixed tape
–the happy realization I can finally get my foot above my head (though only if I am leaning on a wall/fridge/car)
–leisure time and naps
–fancy tea towels
–tidings of comfort and joy

I hope it was very similarly wonderful in your neck of the woods.

Star of wonder / star of night
RR

PS–What are we celebrating on Boxing Day?

November 20th, 2008

Good List

1) Apple bread from Cobbs.
2) Pretty sparkly snowfall before you’re sick of it (give me another two weeks).
3) Not getting hit by a car (so far), on this, the worst driving day of the year.
4) Brilliant Kerry Clare takes her Passion for Reading to Ottawa (this is more good for the citizens of Ottawa than me, since I can’t go; lucky citizens!!).
5) Coming Attractions 08 now in select bookstores, with a bestiary on the front, and stories by Daniel Griffin, Alice Petersen and myself. A gorgeous little book!

Another place that’s really swish
RR

October 17th, 2008

Rose-coloured Reviews Kashi Cherry Dark Chocolate Chewy Granola Bar

I appreciate portable food as only a person who is forced to carry most her life in a shoulder bag can (side note: did I mention that when my bag broke last month, I was unable to find a woman’s purse that wasn’t horribly over-girled, and was forced to buy my purse in the men’s department? ha, the end of gender roles in sight!) I have worked my way through almost everything that comes in packet form from the grocery store, with particular attention to anything grainy. Granola and cereal bars are my favourites, the non-junky ones that aren’t covered in chocolate or “yoghurt” topping. I like the Quakers Chewy and the Special K ones, but both are pretty small and nutritionally arid. Delicious, though.

The more serious bars–the ones with nutrients, no artficial ingredients, etc., like the Kashi bars–cost more, which makes me reluctant to buy them, because I have no values. But if you actually read the box, you realize these are actually *bigger*, so it’s sorta worth it to spend the extra buck. Plus the cherry/dark chocolate idea sounded wonderful.

Eh, it’s not that wonderful, though it is pretty ok. The granola base is full of all the Kashi standards–wheat, oats, rye, barley, and lots of the lovely crispy rice stuff. But it’s not *that* much better than the Quaker combo. Let’s be honest, Special K is terrible, and I just like it because…I don’t know why, I know it’s awful, but… Ok, I do know why: Special K contains tonnes of sugar and salt, as does Quaker, and I have a serious love for salt. The Kashi bar contains very little, cause it’s healthy, yo. But that makes it sorta bland.

The dark chocolate chips were sort of a joke–the size of fruit flies and with their first ingredient being “evapourated cane juice”, they didn’t taste like anything at all. The cherries were actually very wonderful and cherry-like, but sparse–the actual test-bar for this review contained only two (this was an annomally, I ate several prior that contained more).

Nutrionally it’s pretty sound, 5g of protein and 4g of fibre, only 2g of fat (although .5g saturated!) That, plus the beguiling but amorphous phrase “all natural”, plus the lure of actually getting more bar, plus I don’t actually *need* more salt in my diet, will probably make me buy them again although honestly, this is kind of a meh review. They are fine, but the box says “naturally yummy” and that’s really pushing it.

Speak the truth and speak ever
RR

October 13th, 2008

Thanksgiving

It would baffling and onerous to try to make a list of all those things for which I am thankful–this is the burden of good things, I suppose, insufficient time in which to list them. But really, though Canadian Thanksgiving was originally conceived as a harvest holiday and it is supposed to have vague connotations for being appreciative of all good things, I believe most stereotypical images of Thanksgiving feature mainly a) family and b) nice things to eat. And I certainly am grateful for both, and will now attempt to encapsulate that emotion in the following transcription of a conversation held earlier today:

(my father and I rummaging through the coffin-sized deep-freeze in my parents’ basement)

Me: Green beans, green beans, oh, pizza! Green beans, green beans…

Dad: Beets, do you like beets? Do you want these?

Me: Sure. Thanks. Green beans, Broccolli…

Dad: Yellow beans, green beans…you know, I don’t really like vegetables anymore.

Me: What? You like vegetables. You’ve always liked vegetables.

Dad: Some of the thrill is gone, I think. I don’t even know what the hell this is.

Me: (peering intently at frozen green blog in his hand) Is it broccoli? It could be broccoli.

Dad: (speaking to the green lump like Hamlet spoke to the skull of Yorrick) That may be. That may well be.

RR

July 13th, 2008

Bread

I like to make sourdough bread. I learned as a kid in 4-H, from a leader who gave me some starter she had gotten from her mother, who had gotten it for her wedding sometime in the 1950s.

My folks thought it was a good idea that I work hard at bread-making, especially my father, who used to live in San Francisco. Among my grandmother’s recipe books, my mom found some that approximated that style. The recipes were much more complicated than the kids’ ones we got from 4-H–they took a couple days of risings, some attention to detail, and a fair amount of upper body strength to kneed it. My bread pretty often sucked. I would make some for a family dinner, have it turn out rock-hard or else spongy-liquid, and stick the starter in the freezer for six months. When I was high school, I think was more the norm than the exception.

I took some starter away with me when I moved to Montreal, though I can’t recall what apartment I eventually left it in. Before that, I did make bread or biscuits (probably biscuits, they’re easier) for people, not often. When I visited home, I still baked for my folks, though, who were unfailingly appreciative of even my worst efforts. So were the few close friends I baked for, who perhaps knew that I wasn’t overwhelmingly confident amount this sort of thing (or anything) and wanted me to feel better.

I took a fresh supply of starter with me to Toronto. By then, I was getting close to being able to reliably make decent bread, though I have forgotten every ingredient at least once, and had everything that can go wrong (fire alarm, power outage, ingredient shortage) go wrong. But when nothing goes wrong, my bread generally turns out pretty good these days.

I like that, while I’m not a wonderful cook, I don’t know anyone else who bakes bread, so I get the reputation of making the “best” bread. I get a lot of compliments, not so much on the calibre of the food as the fact that I would spend the time and energy doing it. Much better bread is, after all, available in stores.

Which is of course not the point. I like my own bread. I like knowing what’s in it, knowing I made it, and that if someone else made it it would’ve turned out different. I like thinking of all the help I’ve had getting better at this. I like that people know I do it from scratch, so that when I give someone a loaf of bread, they know I am saying, “I like you so much, you are worth this much effort.” And I like doing it. When you kneed dough, you put the heel of your hand on top of the lump, and put your body weight into your shoulders to slide it forward, so the insides of your wrists glide over the floury damp of it. Do you know how that feels? I like how that feels.

I also think the bread tastes pretty good. With a little effort, I could perhaps turn this post into something about how I feel about writing. But, in fact, since I truly do feel this way about bread, I’ll leave it lie.

Here we are now
RR

July 11th, 2008

Rose-coloured Reviews Spice Route

I thought maybe I’d ease into reviewing with something I could have other opinions on, ie., a restaurant. So when I took time out of the whimpering over my proofs to go toSpice Route for Summerlicious I took a notebook and solicited opinions from everyone at the table.

Before I even got to the table though, I was impressed by the big fenced-off patio, the low arch of the door with two wide torches (real flames!) beside it. This place was rumoured to have been a massively expensive renovation, and it sure did look nice. Having heard those rumours, and looked at the street number of the pub next door, I was 99% sure I was in the right place, but technically Spice Route has no sign or number of it’s own. Was I missing it?

I went in and asked for our reservation, which they had–I was in the right place. “I’m 15 minutes late, they’re probably waiting already,” I told the hostess. “Oh, you’re not really late,” she cooed. Oh, so they run by that sort of time-scale here. I apologized to everyone when I found them–15 minutes waiting is still rude by my lights. Then we all agreed that it was weird not to have the name posted outside, and even *removed* from the menus beside the door, though they were otherwise identical to the ones we were looking at.

If this were a real review, I would’ve paid attention to everything on the menu, but I forgot, with my focus on the Summerlicious Menu. Which is pretty wide-ranging and interesting. And they make you order three courses right up front, so you have to put a lot of energy into figuring out your desires.

Those decided, you can appreciate the room–out*stand*ing. Huge and multi-level, plus that awesome patio (I would’ve liked to sit on the patio, but since I was late, I deserved not to get to vote), there’s all kinds of fun things going on: a waterfall, a big sculpture made out of what appeared to be jute rope, flat-screen TVs pasted (probably not literally pasted) flat to the ceilings above the bar, showing underwater cameras of fish and coral. Hella cool, is my astute note on the room.

Of the four first-course options, we covered three–the citrus salad was interesting, the tempura calamari good and abundant (although there was some question as to whether the accompanying “Lemon Scallion Aioli” wasn’t in fact tartar sauce). I can tell more about the Spiced Chicken Lettuce Wraps with Brandied Hoisin Sauce, since that’s what I had–it was adorable! They put the lettuce cups in a tiny bamboo steamer tray. Which makes no sense, but is adorable. They put the sauce in a tiny sake cup. It was hoisin sauce straight out of the bottle, which *is* quite good, but no sign of the rumoured brandying. I think that was just as well.

Ok, the bathrooms: nuts! Instead of a ladies room and a mens room, there was a row of individual bathrooms with their own doors, toilets and sinks, each labelled M or W. They are very very big and lovely, far nicer and larger than mine at home, but they all have uncurtained floor-to-ceiling windows… Ah! Apparently, the windows open onto a cordoned-off alleyway, where the restaurant has installed pretty fountains and grasses and things. Clever, but I betcha it’s gone wrong a time or two. Anyway, so now I’ve peed in front of giant window–great! On the way back to the table, I couldn’t help but wonder about later in the evening when the place becomes a club (it very obviously could be a great one with that layout–the dj booth was up a half level; you could only see his feet!) When the place is crowded and lots of boozy people want to pee, are these large elaborate restrooms really the most efficent use of space? There aren’t that many; I envision massive lines.

The main courses were an interesting variety, but the vegetarian option seemed sort of lame–brown rice and kimchee? I love kimchee more than most things, but as the main component of the dish…weird. I had Indian Spiced Roast Chicken with Naan Bread, Diced Tomato, Onion and Mango Chutney. It was quite good roast chicken–a leg and a thigh, I think, though I’m not too good with poultry anatomy and they dimmed the lights several times over the course of the meal. It wasn’t spicy at all, no more so than a good Sunday dinner roast chicken is, which was a disappointment, and there were either bone splinters or bits of char or…I don’t know, something that wasn’t food that I had to keep spitting out (dead sexy, I know). Like I say, it was dark. But tasty. And good chutney/tomato thing, and good baby bok choy, although baby bok choy had nothing to do with the rest of the meal. It was just the vegetable they were serving with everything. The naan was pretty meh–it’s one of my favourite things on earth when it’s served fresh from the tandoor, and pretty close when it’s at least hot. This tasted like it came out of a package, and anyway, it didn’t really seem to go that well with the dry chicken pieces. Basmati rice as the starch might have been the way to go…

The Mongolian Sirloin Beef with Dry Chili, Scallions, Fresh Ginger and Crispy Rice Sticks that my companions had looked quite good, and was apparently very spicy. I don’t eat beef, but I tried some of the sauce on a cabbage leaf and approved.

It was around dessert that I started to feel as if I were dying. I know, we’re all dying, but I mean at an accelerated rate. I think this was unrelated to the cuisine–I haven’t been sleeping much–but it affect my enjoyment of the three cute little round balls of sorbet that I received. They were tropical flavours, and very nice though I couldn’t identify any of them. There were bits of fruit and “sesame praline” all over and a sprig of mint, all very classy. Also a fortune cookie, which was stale, containing the sage advice “Quarrels can be avoided if you are tactful.”

My friends had the Raspberry Chocolate Brownie with Caramelized Mandarins and Tangerine Cream. They weren’t too interested in the brownie (“it’s not really a brownie,” someone said) but the bits of fruit and cream were appreciated. We also had some fancy teas, which were quite good and came with an elaborate tray of sugars and milks.

So, overall, a win–rather tasty interesting food in a really cool environment, for not all *that* much money. I couldn’t help but think, being the inherently gauche person that I am, that everything we’d ordered is also available at The Pickle Barrel (seriously, everything; check me), and for about the same amount of money, although you’d end up with about 3x as much food. Which is weird, because that lends one to think the better bargain would be PB, but there was exactly enough food at SR. On one hand, I do feel smug when I walk out of restaurant with my little foam tray, thinking I don’t have to make lunch tomorrow, but really, it’s getting hard to do dinner and dancing, dinner and a show, dinner and anything when you are hauling along half your mammoth salmon steak. I though the portions at SR were really elegant and ideal.

A word on the service at SR, which has been remarked on very favourably in reviews. Our waiter was quite nice and adept, and several other staff helped him out, but he was clearly run off his feet. Maybe it was the Summerliciousness of it all, but whatever tables he had been assigned, it was obviously too much. There seemed to be certain set lines he was supposed to say to get us into the spirit, but since he was actually panting at certain points, some spirit was lacking. I felt a bit bad asking for anything at all, though he did manage beautifully despite the over-burdening.

Overall, yay to Spice Route, then, which seems strange to say since I’ll probably never go back. But it was good to go the once.

He could not know another tiger
RR