Renewing My Vows

There's an old folk tale about an old man with a long white beard. One day his friend asks him if in bed he keeps his beard under or over the covers. He can't seem to remember so he decides to check. In bed that night he tries it over, but it feels wrong. He goes for under, and he feels strange. He stays up like this all night cursing the question that got him in this mess. In the morning his friend asks if he has the answer and the old man says no, and I don't even know who I am.

This blog has been one my favorite adventures ever, and my absence for a while is what makes me think of the old man's beard. When I went back to school last year after a leave of absence I knew I needed to change my thesis topic. When I changed my topic to food, writing, and hunger, I had no idea it would interfere with the most pertinent activity in my life. I should have thought of that I guess. It's like when medical students develop acute hypochondria. I've been reading so much theory about food and eating and blogs and I think inadvertently I've been plugging myself into every idea wondering if I cook like that or think like that or write for that reason. It sounds trivial but trust me being so self-conscious like that makes it hard to write. It's not something they mention much in academia. I feel in so many cases, people write about topics so distant from their own experiences that they don't face this predicament. It's a shame because I think it's a good one. It makes me try harder not to force a line-of-best-fit through thousands of individual examples just for the sake of making a neat argument to present to my supervisor. Sure it's a slower process but I wouldn't want it any other way.



 Maybe in another post I'll write more about just what it is I'm starting to understand about what we do when we write about food, but for now I'd just like to find a way back into the stream of my own food narrative. I'm starting to think of this last pause not as lost time but rather a necessary beat where I gained some insight and found in spite of my new critical perspective that I am still as thrilled as ever to be writing right here, about food and all my other hungers.

Of course I've still been cooking and eating and feeding people, so there will be no shortage of stories to tell and recipes to share. This one seems especially appropriate with all this talk of renewal and return. It's a salty pear after all; not the inaugural salty pear of so many years ago but a new one, lovingly poached in pear juice and white wine with mulling spices and served with chopped pecans and salted caramel. It goes really well with bourbon and it's up to you to decide how you'd like to use that information...



Recipe

For Pears
2 Ripe Bosc or Anjou pears peeled and cored
1 C Pear juice (I got a juices for Christmas so I juiced a few but you can use nectar or another fruit juice)
1.5 C Riesling (or white wine you have open)
2 tbsp brown sugar or honey
mulling spices (I used a stick of cinnamon, clove, star anise, 1/4 vanilla bean, and dry Orange slices)

For topping
1/4 cup chopped roasted pecans

For Caramel
(Recipe here)
1 C Sugar
1/4 C Water
3/4 C  Cream
3 1/2 tbsp unslated butter
pinch of your good salt

Peel and core the pears using a vegetable peeler or paring knife and a melon-baller. Cut the base of each pear slightly. This will allow them to stand.

Combine the rest of the ingredients in the smallest saucepan that fits your two pears and bring everything to  medium heat. Cover pears and simmer for 15 minutes making sure not to boil them rapidly as they will split and lose their lovely shape. Test with a toothpick to see if desired softness is achieved. Remove pears gently and serve warm or cold with chopped nuts and the salted caramel sauce or reduce the cooking liquid with an extra few tablespoons of honey, strain, and use in place of caramel. An extra flake or two of coarse salt? Maybe...

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Salted Watermelon, Monday, Magic.

I can explain. Remember how I put salt on the Pear tarts that my bog title alludes to? Remember how it was delicious? This watermelon is no different. It' s sweet, it's lovely, and it wants salt. My friend Dale put this idea in my head. Dale knows his food so we're gonna trust him on this one. Another thing about Dale, is that he is not fond of circular things. In an ideal world, Dale would use square or rectangular plates only. So naturally, if you give Dale a round thing such as a watermelon, he will cut it into... you guessed it: cubes. Well, here is the lovely thing about cubing a watermelon: you get to eat all the scraps! My grilled cheese sandwich at lunch went pretty darn well with these salty cubes of crunch. Try it!


I won't try to write out a recipe for my Grilled Cheese and Salted Watermelon (with greens), because I'm sure you can guess how I made it. What I will do though, is share some tips: if you don't have a sandwich press, cast iron is great for grilling bread. Put some pressure on your sandwich, though. My brilliant system today involved a plate and a full kettle. You could use a plate and a nineteenth century novel. Whatever works...


P.S. I tried to be really discreet about my use of Challah in making the grilled cheese of this post. I though you're so sick of this loaf of bread by now. But then I got a comment on the last post from Amuse- bouche that sent me back to the kitchen. I came back with this tiny grilled chocolate sandwich to have with my espresso. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the sweet sweet conclusion to my lovely loaf of Challah.

Parkas and Pasta

How many times have we endured the Canadian winter, and it's still the hottest topic of conversation between November and April. Whether we're surprised that the cold has taken longer to set in, or how long it's lasted this year, or just talking about the bone-chilling, teeth-chattering, skin-cracking cold, we persist. So naturally the first thing I want to tell you about (and the next handful of posts are likely going to start similarly) is that it's freezing here! Now since carbohydrates and fat keep our bodies (and hearts) happy, I propose we eat pasta until April. Think about the variations of pasta and sauce that are available to amuse ourselves with while we wait for the blossoms to grace our snow covered trees...


Casarecco with Roasted Red Pepper Sauce

(If you have a really good jar of roasted peppers, feel free to substitute)

250g dry Casarecco (or pasta of your choice)
2 Sweet Red Bell Peppers
1 clove Garlic
1 shallot
small bunch of fresh basil
olive oil
good pinch of salt
cracked black pepper
Parmigiano Regiano

Roast the red peppers, garlic, and Shallots (skin on) in the oven and peal when cool enough to handle. Blend/food process peppers, shallot, garlic, and basil with a pinch of good course salt and a couple of tablespoons of olive oil. Taste the sauce and tweak seasoning to taste, then transfer the sauce to a medium pan on medium-low heat.

In the mean time, boil the pasta in plenty of well-salted water (salt the water after it comes to a boil, as salty water takes longer to boil) until al dente and drain, keeping about 1/4c of the starchy pasta liquid.

Toss the pasta and 1/4c liquid in the pepper purée and mix gently until it all comes together and the pasta is well coated with sauce. Grate some Parmigiano right into the pan and move around gently to enrich the sauce.

Serve with additional grated cheese and a glass of hearty red wine and count down the days until picnic season with us!

This Salty Pear is Sweet

This recipe for our Pinot Noir poached pear tart with sea salt isn't just our namesake, it has pretty much everything we're about: market fresh fruit, lots of vino, perfect pastry, coarse salt, and chocolate to top it all off. To start you're going to need to get a basket of pears (each tart requires a half pear, so 4 pears will make 8 tarts). We used Anjou because they're still in season and keep their shape well when baked, but you could just as easily use Bartletts.


Recipe: Pinot Noir poached Pear tarts with Sea Salt

4 Anjou pears, poched, halved, then sliced

Poaching liquid

1/2 Bottle of red wine, Pinot Noir, Amarone or a personal favourite
1 large orange, zest and juice of
1 stick of cinnamon
1 vanilla bean, sliced lengthwise
2 to 3 sprigs of fresh mint, rosemary or thyme

Puff pastry

1lb all purpose flour
1lb cold, unsalted butter cut into small cubes
1 teaspoon table salt
1/2 C of heavy cream, mixed with cold water
1/2 C cold water, mixed with cream

Almond filling

1/4 C of ground almonds
1/4 C of confectioner's sugar
3 tablespoons soft, whipped butter

For the Poached Pears fill a saucepan (preferably one that's going fit your pears tightly) add your vino, a vanilla bean sliced down the middle, the zest and juice of an orange, a stick of cinnamon, and a few sprigs of fresh mint, thyme or rosemary but don't over do it. If you only have dried herbs that's fine, but just a pinch will do. You don't want your pears to taste like a roast lamb. Next, bring the poaching liquid to a boil, then cover and simmer for 5 to 10. This particular poaching recipe is adapted from Jamie's Kitchen, but there's a million twists out there so just pick a pear poaching recipe that suits if you're not into this one. When the liquids are simmering (or marrying their flavors as the chefs would say), skin and core your pears from the base. Make sure to keep your pears whole with the stem on and in clean, presentable form. You're going to see them when you're done so you don't want to rough them up. Once your pears are prepped, place them base down in the simmering liquid and cover. And if they aren't fully immersed add more wine, it's important that the fruit is covered in the booze. They won't cook evenly if they're not, so make sure they're drowning in the sauce.

For The Pastry (if you're up for making your own) this is the recipe we use. If not, store-bought pastry will do the trick. It comes in two forms: sheets, or blocks. If you buy sheets, simply lay out one sheet and take it from there. The blocks will need to defrost, and you will need a chunk of pastry roughly the size of one good sized handful. This usually means half of one package. On a floured surface, roll out a sheet about 1/4" thick and brush the surface with one egg yolk beaten with a tablespoon of water. Then using a pizza roller, or the blade of a sharp knife, cut two rows of four squares or rectangles, whichever will accommodate your pears nicely.

For The Filling simply whisk together 1/4c ground almonds, 1/4c confectioner's sugar and three tablespoons softened butter. Spread one tablespoon of filling on each of the rectangles, but try to leave a border because the egg-washed pastry will bake into a beautiful golden hue in the oven. Next, take each poached pear and cut it length-wise in half. With the cut side down, cut each half into 1/8" horizontal slices keeping the shape of the half. Using the Blade of a thick knife, transfer the fanned half pears to the pastry rectangles. Bake these beauties on a lined/greased baking sheet in a preheated 350 ˚ oven for 20-25 minutes or until the edges look golden. Let cool on a wire rack. Garnish with a drizzle of chocolate, icing sugar and a sprinkle of sea salt.