The Gouda Life

Moving and a Cocktail [The Victorian]

Fri, 17 May 2013 11:53:00 -0400

The Friday before a long weekend is always rough. I can feel the anxiousness in my muscles, twitching and squirming and trying to maintain composure. It feels almost like the last month before summer holiday when I was in elementary school.

We move next weekend and from tomorrow until next Saturday I will be buried in boxes and packing tape and eating off paper plates and wearing the same jeans and t-shirt everyday and generally just losing my mind as is the case for control freaks like me when their worlds get tossed upside down. (you can tell by the run-on sentences that I’m already borderline losing it). I’ll have one more post coming Tuesday and then *poof* - I’ll be gone for a wee bit. Nesting, as they call it, and trying to pick through the boxes that contain my life.

Today, I bring you booze. Mostly because I need it, but I figured you probably do, too. Don’t make me imbibe all alone, guys. This cocktail, which was unnamed until we called it The Victorian, comes from my boyfriend’s colleague at MacKinnon Reid & Associates, a landscape contracting and design company. He first started working with Katie, an all-knowing horticulturalist that’s taught Al so much in just a few short weeks, when he told her he was making me dinner for a date night last week. Knowing he wouldn’t remember the recipe, he recorded her explanation of the cocktail so he could recreate it without fault. The instructions were concise and specific. 2 ice cubes, crushed… but only two. He followed it to a tee, even though I was slightly hesitant, complaining that I wasn’t a big fan of martinis and this sounded suspiciously similar. The result? Clean, refreshing flavour that got it’s delicate sweetness from a crisp white wine, a floral, earthy kick from the gin and a slight savory hint just at the back of your throat from a splash of vermouth. It was lovely. I was shocked at how much I enjoyed it. Gin and wine?! I never would have combined the two. I certainly never would have imagined the two married so well together. So I decided I would share it with you. Katie has planted Victorian gardens throughout Ottawa so we named this The Victorian for that reason. I hope you enjoy it and thank you, Katie, for sharing our new favourite summer sipper.

The Victorian
based on recipe from Katie Andrews
makes 1 cocktail

Katie makes her own White Pear Pinot Grigio for this, but any sweet white wine will do. Feel free to try with a dryer variety, but I tend to like the sweetness this offers.

I garnished this with lemon balm from the garden, but the recipe did not call for it. I mostly used it for the kick of colour.

2 ice cubes, crushed
2 ounces sweet white wine (moscato, riesling or even a sweet pinot grigio would work)
1 ounce gin
1/2 ounce vermouth

Place the crushed ice in a martini or other short glass. Top with the wine, gin and vermouth and swirl to combine. Sip and enjoy.

Saying Yes, Meaning No [Black Rice and Mushroom Burgers with Cucumber Garlic Yogurt]

Fri, 10 May 2013 12:07:00 -0400

I’m a yes girl.

Saying no has always been a task that stirred my anxiety (surprise, surprise). I don’t like to disappoint people and for some strange reason, saying no made me feel like I was letting someone down or hurting their feelings. It didn’t matter the invitation, I felt wholly obligated to say yes lest I disappoint the host, the organizer, my peers or even my family.

As I travel the bumps and rockier roads of adulthood, I’m realizing more and more than “no” has a valuable place in my vocabulary. Saying yes to everything may mean meeting more people, some of them truly wonderful, attending events that I take precious information away from, experiencing things I wouldn’t have known otherwise, and catching up with old friends, but it leaves me wondering: where in all those yes’s do the invaluable people and things that are already in my life fit in? The ones who have seen me through the highest of highs and some very dark lows. Shouldn’t my yes’s be reserved for them more often than strangers and
events I have no interest in? And for the people and things that I love?

Saying yes constantly had been leaving me heavy with agitation. I knew I didn’t want to say yes to all these request but I said it anyways. I was frequently disappointed in myself for cowering behind my inability to stand up for what I wanted, and I felt angry that I now had to attend or work on something that didn’t interest me in any way. It was a double-whammy of frustration and who got to feel the brunt of it? Those nearest to me. The ones who had to listen to me bitch and moan about having to attend this or do that even though I was the one who agreed to it in the first place.

With a certain reluctance, I’ve started saying no. At first, it tumbled awkwardly off my tongue and left a bitter taste, but the more I practiced the more confident my no’s became and the lighter my shoulders got. In the end, I’m the only one who’s accountable for the decision I make - not the people who asked in the first place or my poor friends who had to lend an ear to the protests. I’m learning to save my yes’s for the people and things that bring me joy - and there are so many. If I want to say no to an event that everyone is attending so I can sit at home curled into Al watching 4 episodes of Game of Thrones - I’m going to. And I’m not going to feel badly about it, either. If it means I miss events, that’s alright too. The great thing about events is that there will always be more. Always. There is no guarantee that there will always be more nights spent on the porch with my best friend, our laughs keeping the neighbours up, or more dinners in my mom’s backyard by the pool, margaritas with my sister, baseball games with my dad or dinner dates with Al. Those are what my yes’s should be reserved for. That, and doing just this. Coming here and having the time to talk, for real, about what’s going on. Time to focus on creating dishes and photos I’m proud of. Things I was missing by being too afraid to say no.

Of course, life comes with obligations and there are times when yes is all I can say. Likewise, there are times when I do really want to say yes to the events and the dinners. And that’s ok, too. I’m learning, albeit slowly, to go with my gut and trust what it’s urging me towards.

And today, my gut urged me towards veggie burgers. Ones that I made on the fly and used what I had for. Nutty Japonica rice, a blend of medium-grain black and short-grain mahogany rice, and earthy mushrooms speckled with a Turkish baharat blend. Topped with a cool garlic cucumber yogurt that I tried relentlessly not to scoop up with a spoon and eat before the burgers were ready. These are good. You should probably say YES to them.

Black Rice and Mushroom Burgers with Cucumber Garlic Yogurt
makes 8 sliders, 4 large burgers

2 cups diced button mushrooms
1 small onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 tsp baharat spice, recipe follows
1 cup cooked black or mahogany rice (brown rice is fine, too)
1 large carrot, grated
1/2 tbsp lemon zest (1/2 large lemon)
1/4 tsp cayenne pepper (or more if you like it hot)
1 egg, lightly beaten
1 cup whole wheat bread crumbs
1/4 cup chopped parsley
salt and pepper, to taste
Vegetable oil, to pan-fry

Ideas to serve:
4 large (8 small) buns of your choice
avocado slices
sliced radishes
cheese
sprouts (I used pea shoots)

Drizzle a heavy skillet over med-high heat with vegetable oil and add the mushrooms and onions. Cook for 10-15 minutes or until liquid has released and evaporated and the mushrooms and onions are starting to brown. Add the garlic and baharat spice and stir to combine. Cook another 1-2 minutes. Let cool 10 minutes.

Mix the cooked rice and mushroom mixture with the carrot, cayenne, egg, bread crumbs, parsley and a few generous pinches of salt and pepper. If the mixture is a bit wet, add more breadcrumbs or a bit of flour to help dry them out a bit. Form into patties and pan fry on a heavy skillet drizzled with vegetable oil over medium-high heat. Cook for 5-6 minutes or until golden brown on to bottom. Flip and brown the other side. Place on a bun slathered with yogurt sauce and topped with whatever you like most.

Cucumber Garlic Yogurt Sauce
makes 1 cup

3” piece of english cucumber, grated
1 cup Greek yogurt (must be Greek)
1 large or 2 small cloves garlic

Squeeze as much moisture from the grated cucumber as you can. Place in a food processor (or bullet/blender) with the yogurt and garlic and blend until smooth.

Baharat Blend
makes about 1/3 cup

“Baharat” literally means “spice” in Arabic. There are many different varieties but I prefer this Turkish style blend. If you have the time, toasting your coriander and cumin and grinding them fresh makes a huge difference in the flavour here.

1 1/2 tablespoons dried mint
1 tablespoon dried oregano
1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1 1/2 teaspoons ground coriander
1 1/2 teaspoons ground cumin
1 1/2 teaspoons ground nutmeg

Mix all ingredients and store in an airtight jar.

Knock Out That Cold [Spicy Kale Ginger Lemonade]

Wed, 08 May 2013 12:17:00 -0400

There is something ominous lurking around.

A dirty, nasty cold/flu that seems to be knocking my friends and family out one by one. I woke yesterday with a sandpaper throat and what felt like two corks in my sinus’. Immediately I started trying to knock it out before it did me in.

Water (a lot of water), raw garlic (mashed into yogurt), oil of oregano and two full glasses of Green Juice later, and I seem to have come out victorious. I had plans to share a galette today, but in the spirit of health, I thought I’d share the recipe for the green juice that I’m adamant saved my ass from this TKO cold.

Spicy Kale Ginger Lemonade
based on Café My House’s version

The ingredients are pretty rough here. Taste and adjust based on what you like best. This method is for those not lucky enough (like myself!) to have a juicer. It takes a little more time but it’s well worth it.

1 bunch kale (curly or lacinato), rough chopped
1 large apple (2 small), skin on, cored and rough chopped
Juice from 2 lemons
1/2 english cucumber, rough chopped
large handful flat-leaf parsley
2” ginger, peeled and rough chopped
1/2 - 1 tsp cayenne pepper
1/2 - 1 cup water

Place all ingredients in a blender with the 1/2 cup of water. Blend until everything is combined in a sludgy mess. Place a mesh strainer over a bowl and pour the contents of the blender into the strainer. Using a spoon or a potato masher (I have the best success with the masher, but it’s whatever works for you) and work the juice out of the pulp until it’s fairly dry. Taste and add more lemon if needed. Chill the juice or pour over ice and serve.

Finding My Past in Food [Healthier Egg Salad with Tarragon and Pickled Celery]

Mon, 29 Apr 2013 10:19:00 -0400

My past with food isn’t as glamorous as I sometimes wish it was. I didn’t learn to mix, knead and roll pasta with my grandmother on Sundays and I wasn’t teetering on my tip toes, nose barely reaching the counter, while my Dad taught me how to break down a chicken, sear it to a golden brown and simmer it in tomatoes and capers, olives and hot peppers. It wasn’t my reality. There are times I feel nostalgic for the stories of those whose family and food lives were wrapped around each other like a sturdy vine, but I forget that I, too, have a past in food, glamorous or not.

The older I get the more I remember the things I did learn about food from my family. They may not be the stories I longed for or the romantic ones some of my friends and peers can tell, but they were the ones that shaped me. My Dad passed along his fearlessness towards all food. Mold? Just cut it off and carry on. Leftovers there for a while? Details, details - just eat it. Expiry dates? A mere suggestion. He joked endlessly about liver and onions, terrifying my sister and I at the thought of having to join him at the table. He ate any cut, any way. If there was something on a menu that he hadn’t heard of before, there was an 80% chance it would arrive in front of him minutes later. At the time I may not have appreciated his ways with food, but theses days I embrace them. He made me a fearless eater, never one to turn anything down, never afraid to try anything at least once. Especially creamy, mayonnaise-filled items like chicken salad, egg salad, any kind of canned meat… I was my fathers daughter and it made me proud to say that I liked what he liked.

Years later, when it was just my mom and I living in her place, I learned how to cook the first meals I made for my friends and first real boyfriend. Meaty spaghetti sauces studded with big hunks of tomato (something that made my sister squirm in disgust), tomato soup jazzed up with a hit of Worcestershire sauce, tabasco and melted cheese slice that I still crave today when I’m under the weather, dreamy whipped mashed potatoes that I can still claim as the best I’ve ever had and still make today, much to Al and my friend’s delight. She taught me that cooking for people made them feel special and showed them how much you cared for them. It was a high I still haven’t come down from despite not getting into cooking until I was about 24. Sunday dinners at her place brought us all together so we could slow down, laugh hysterically and tell our stories from the week. I still relish her cooking and it always makes me feel important and loved when she cooks for us.

My best friend, Amanda, is Lebanese. She comes from the kind of food background that I’ve always longed for. Her mother cooks everything from scratch. When I used to go there, back when I was only just learning to love cooking, I remember seeing hot peppers from her garden drying on the window sill. Amanda explained that she would grind them and use that as seasoning in her dishes. That nearly blew my mind. Do people do that? Don’t spices come from a clear jar with a sage-green lid in the spice aisle? She would feed us labneh, a soft cheese made with strained yogurt (also homemade) and I would sit, bewildered at her dedication to feeding her family ingredients that she pulled from the garden or created from a few humble items in her fridge. Her cooking is a nudge to her past, rich with tradition and memories of Lebanon. I remember Amanda always felt a bit weird about her entirely ethnic lunches (at least to suburban kids who ate french fries or peanut butter sandwiches for lunch), and I would be lying if I said we weren’t all a bit put off by them in the high school cafeteria, but those are the meals I now hope I can feed my kids someday. Meals rich in culture and tradition, meals that have a past and a story to them. Meals and ingredients that I made with my two hands. Ones that I might even be able to say Mary Melhem, your Aunt Amanda’s mom, taught me about when I was just a bratty 10th grader.

All of these stories shaped the way I cook, the way I eat and my relationship with food. Though I longed for more then, I realize now that I couldn’t want for any more. Fearlessness and an open mind, the knowledge that cooking equates to loving and that making a meal for someone is the best way to show them you care, and a dedication to create meals from scratch for my family and share the tradition and stories behind them.

Egg salad always reminds me of my Dad. He liked his creamy and mayonnaise-filled (expired or not) and studded with green olives. I haven’t eaten egg salad in a long time but when I do, I prefer mine a touch healthier and with plenty of flavour from tarragon, pickled celery and hot sauce. I still thought of him as I spread it thick on bread and took a monstrous bite as the salad pushed out the sides like toothpaste.

Healthier Egg Salad with Pickled Celery and Tarragon
makes 4 sandwiches

Though this recipe is mostly mine, I did use Smitten Kitchen’s idea of picking the celery. This adds such a welcome kick of sour bite to the salad without having to bite down on a pickle. Unless you’re into that sort of thing, in which case - add a few pickles diced really tiny.

Hard boiled egg method courtesy of 101Cookbooks. Follow it to the tee and you’ll have perfect eggs every time.

1/4 cup (2 stalks) celery, diced
1/2 cup pickle brine (from dill pickles, sweet gherkins, pickled jalapenos)
6 hard boiled eggs, method follows
2 tbsp plain Greek yogurt
1 tbsp fresh tarragon, minced
1 tbsp Tabasco sauce (or favourite hot sauce)
1 tsp dijon
1 tbsp caper berries (2 tbsp if you really like them)
1/2 tsp salt
plenty of fresh ground pepper to taste
sliced whole wheat bread
romaine, kale or greens of your choice

Place the diced celery in a pickle brine of your choice. I used jalapeno because I wanted that spicy kick. Let it sit in the brine for at least 45 minutes up to overnight.

Have a bowl of ice water ready. Place your eggs in a pot and cover by 1-2” with cold water. Bring to a gentle boil, turn off the heat, cover and let them sit for exactly 7 minutes. Plunge into the ice water and let cool for at least 3 minutes to stop the cooking process.

Peel the eggs, place in a big bowl with the celery, greek yogurt, tarragon, Tabasco, dijon, capers lots of pepper and salt. Mash everything together, paying most attention to the eggs, until you’re left with a well combined, coarse textured salad. Taste and adjust to your liking. Spread a nice, thick layer onto bread and top with greens of your choice. Place the second slice of bread on top and take a big, messy bite.

Was your childhood ripe with tradition and history in food or did you have a past similar to mine?

Finding the Warmth [Apple Cinnamon Steel Cut Oats]

Fri, 19 Apr 2013 10:41:00 -0400

Today we need comfort. A reminder that amidst the cold, dark world we live in, there can be warmth.

As we all hold our collective breaths, scared of what might happen and scared of who might do it, it’s hard to feel the warmth. Hard to remember that there is so much good surrounding us; good that undoubtedly trumps the evil. Even though it may not seem so right now.

If you’re struggling to find the warmth, let me offer mine. I can’t physically hug you all, but I can fill you with something warm that might withstand the cold until you’re able to find your own warmth.

We’re thinking of you here in Canada and sending our warmth.

Apple-Cinnamon Steel Cut Oats
serves 4

This recipe is simple - you’ve likely had a version of it before and it’s easily adaptable to whatever you have on hand. This is something I make for my boyfriend when he’s sick or feeling low so I share it in hope that it might provide the same comfort to you.

1 cup steel cut oats
2 cups water
1 1/2 cups milk
1 sweet apple, cut into 1/2” dice (skin on or off)
1/2 tsp (or more) ground cinnamon
1/4 tsp cardamom
1/4 cup brown sugar (more to taste)
1/2 cup nuts (walnuts or almonds are great), toasted and chopped

Bring the oats, water and milk to a boil. Reduce head to a simmer and add 3/4 of the apples (save the others for garnish), cinnamon and cardamom. Cook for 20-30 minutes or until oats are chewy but cooked through.

Remove from heat and stir in the brown sugar. Taste and add more cinnamon or sugar if desired.

Spoon into bowls and top with remaining diced apple and toasted nuts.

I Am On Fire [Food Bloggers of Canada Conference Recap]

Tue, 16 Apr 2013 15:23:00 -0400

Oh me, oh my. Where do I begin?

I suppose the beginning seems like the most logical place to begin. This past weekend I attended the very first Food Bloggers of Canada Conference. It was the first non-work-related conference I’ve attended and while it was a no-brainer for almost every other attendee, I went into it with much hesitation.

I don’t talk about this often and I can’t recall if we’ve touched on this before, but I suffer from anxiety on an almost daily basis. Social, non-social, sometimes all-encompassing, sometimes little more than a dull ache coursing through my gut. If we’ve met, you might be surprised to hear this since I am typically pretty outgoing, loud & approachable, the first one to yack your ear off and the last to leave a party. But pretending that this is natural to me does not always come easy. It exhausts me from head to toe and leaves my brain feeling like a juiced lemon, void of any substance.

Willingly throwing myself into a room full of people I haven’t met (for a full weekend) sends me into a bit of a tailspin. I was very, very nervous to attend, almost enough to back out last minute. The combination of flying (another anxiety-inducer for me), being away from home and my security blanket (otherwise known as my boyfriend, close friends and family) and meeting new people had my stomach in such knots that I thought I might be sick as I touched down in Toronto on Friday morning. I told myself to be brave, to enter into this experience with an open mind and let what was going to happen, simply… happen. And so I did.

As someone who is often on the outside of large social gatherings looking in, I live with a lot of regret for missing out on events, parties and conferences that I am too nervous to attend, too overwhelmed by the debilitating anxiety that I feel so often. I was not going to let it happen this time. After a turbulent flight to Toronto, some alone time wandering the culturally rich streets of the city and lunch with a close friend that calmed me slightly, I took a deep breath and walked into the lobby of the Renaissance Hotel on Friday afternoon to meet up with Renee, Jan and Julie so we could carpool to Hockley Valley Resort. I was greeted with warm smiles and hugs and we hopped into Jan’s van and took off for a weekend I won’t ever forget. One foot in front of the other, one deep breath at a time.

Arriving at Hockley Valley Resort was overwhelming. So many people bustling about, trying to organize themselves before the onslaught of bodies took over the resort. To make matters slightly worse, the resort was handicapped by a power outage due to bad weather, but it just barely slowed them down (kudos to you, Hockley Valley Resort!). Slowly all the unknown faces that gathered around the lobby were named, as we said shy hellos and exchanged business cards and stories of our travels through inclement weather to get to FBC. I met my roommate, Andrea, and we quickly became acquainted. She was my first real friend of the weekend and it was a relief to be able to finally let the knots in my stomach loosen slightly.

We shared a glass of wine at the bar with a few other friendly bloggers before it was time to attend the cocktail party followed by a 3 course dinner of impeccably prepared dishes, with wines to pair, provided by sponsors Canada Beef, Mushrooms Canada, Rosewood Estates Winery and Henry of Pelham. Our tables were assigned and I had the pleasure of speaking more intimately with Bridget Oland of Crosby’s Molasses, Jenny Jack from Brunette Baker, who is as bubbly as a freshly corked bottle of champagne, Alexa Clark, whom I’ve admired from a far for some time, and Melissa Hartfiel, co-organizer of FBC and someone I’ve been anxiously awaiting the opportunity to get to know in person for as long as I’ve been a member of Food Bloggers of Canada. It was a real treat to get to know these ladies on a more intimate level and it left me feeling confident that I could do this. These people were “my” people and if I was brave enough to walk up to them and start a conversation, I would be rewarded by getting to know someone who was interested in what I was interested in, and who wanted to know me as much as I wanted to know them. This was one of my biggest lessons from the weekend. That first 10 seconds might have been uncomfortable (or flat-out unbearable if you’re like me), but after that, once the initial greeting was complete, I’d opened myself up to a new relationship that had the potential to grow into something more than acquaintances, which I was lucky enough to experience (more on that later).

I would love to regal you with tales of all the life-long lessons and tips from the pros that I absorbed over the course of the weekend but quite honestly, I have not yet wrapped my head around it all. It was difficult to try and take in all of that precious information. I did my best to lap it up as quickly as it came out (thank god for my notebook), but I still feel like I need a couple weeks before it all sinks in. I can tell you this, Food Bloggers of Canada brought in a caliber of speakers and panelists that you wouldn’t believe. Keynote speaker, David Leite of Leite’s Culinaria, had a crowd of energized, loquacious attendees silenced and enthralled by his honesty and openness to share with us what brought him to this place in life, what has made him successful and what he has learned in his years as a writer (not a food writer, but a writer who writes about food - that was specified) I felt lightheaded being in his presence, his self-awareness and refusal to apologize for being just who he is and doing only what he truly feels is right for him and his life really spoke to me. I even managed to, despite my stomachs booming call to run away and hide, nab 10 minutes of David’s time to chat with him one-on-one about my future and his thoughts on how to push forward when I feel like I’m stuck in a straight line. It was clear that this weekend would be a game changer from that point on.

The next two days (or day and a half) were a blur. Seminar after seminar of awe-striking speakers and panelists provided moments of clarity that I thought I might never have, spoke on topics I’d never even thought were important to me but now realize affect my livelihood as a writer and recipe developer, and provided insight on items I had never quite understood fully. Again, to absorb all of this information was overwhelming but in a way that made me feel fired up rather than stressed out. A whole different kind of anxiousness that I hadn’t discovered yet. One that I can deal with.

Something else happened over the weekend. When I first met Kathy and Kris, bloggers from Halifax and Toronto respectively, I didn’t feel that gut-wrenching anxiety that I’m typically faced with upon making a new connection. I felt at ease. Astonishingly so. I felt like I didn’t need to prove who I was or why I was there, I could just be easy in their presence, like we’d known each other all along and were just getting together for the umpteenth time in our friendship. I don’t feel this way often. I attribute this calmness to the fact that we are like-minded in so many ways (which makes sense given we were attending the same conference and were interested in the same things). I know that had I not been brave enough to attend FBC, I would have missed out on these two connections. I would have let them slip away like so many other things I have let pass me by because of the fear. It’s sad to think how many people I might have missed in my life because of this, but it makes my spirit soar to know that this time I didn’t let it happen. I can call these wonderfully talented, quirky and kind women my friends (in real life!). I don’t know when we will connect again, but I do know that I’ve made friends that I plan to keep in close touch with, to collaborate with, and to find comfort in knowing there are people out there who just “get” me (and I can be an acquired taste so they’re brave to take me on). I have FBC to thank for that and for so many other unforgettable moments from the weekend.

To Mardi, Melissa and Ethan, organizers of the conference, I don’t know what to say to you but thank you. For your undying devotion to all of us writers, photographers, stylists, authors, collaborators, eaters, drinkers and food-lovers in Canada. You forever hold my respect and admiration and I hope you realize you are superheroes in our eyes. You are the first people we can thank for any success we experience after the conference, and the people that brought us all together to relish in good food, impeccable company, and unforgettable learning experiences.

This weekend stirred my soul and made me feel more alive than I have in some time. I said it throughout the conference and I meant it when I said it; after all the talks, all of the wisdom bestowed upon us and all of the connections and conversations… I am on fire. Thank you, from the very pit of my gut, to every single one of you I met, connected with and shared in this experience with. It was a dream.

Not Settling for Sawdust [Coconut Red Quinoa Muffins with Sour Cherries and Pecans]

Tue, 09 Apr 2013 15:17:00 -0400

I love breakfast. Love it like I love a glass of wine at the end of a long day (and that says a lot) and can’t bear the thought of getting out of bed without knowing there is something scrumptious waiting for me when I do. The thought of waking to the same bowl of plain old oatmeal or natural peanut butter on whole wheat toast every day makes my heart sink. I’m not getting up for that – I refuse to! I want something that tastes good, something that tames my morning-lion-hunger and nourishes my body as it does.

I’ve been in the bad habit of grabbing a bagel or croissant sandwich (from Bread and Sons in Ottawa. It’s a show-stopper. Go there immediately!) lately and it needs to end. So I decided to whip up a batch of breakfast muffins. Who says a muffin can’t be delicious as well as nutrient-packed, hunger-staving, and fibre-filled? Not me. I don’t say that, guys. It’s not true and I’m tired of hearing it. Muffins are not the bad guys – it’s the people who are loading them up with butter (tasty, tasty butter) and unrefined sugars who should bare the blame for their bad rap. If you trust me (I think we’ve been hanging out long enough to warrant a small to medium amount of trust between us, no?) then you’ll believe me when I tell you that these muffins are healthy (they have some brown sugar… but it’s brown so it’s ok…right?) and so full of flavour that you won’t even miss that whats-it-called muffin you’ve been spending your hard earned coins on each morning. Filled with wheat bran, flax seeds, toasted pecans and coconut, dried cherries and cinnamon and just enough brown sugar to keep things interesting, they are good enough to get me up in the morning and filling enough to tame that noisy beast that makes home in my gut from 7-8am each day. Don’t settle for saw-dusty bran muffins that taste like cardboard or butter-filled muffins that may as well be breakfast-hamburgers; these are better and will make your mornings bright and sun-shiny and happy (probably). If you’re interested, I’ve calculated the nutritional information here.

Coconut Red Quinoa Muffins with Sour Cherries and Pecans
adapted from Martha Stewart
makes 12 muffins
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup cooked red quinoa
1/4 cup shredded, unsweetened coconut
1/4 cup wheat bran
1/3 toasted pecans, crushed
1/4 cup flax, freshly ground
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
3/4 cup brown sugar
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 cup dried cherries, rough-chopped
1 tsp salt
1 egg
1/4 cup applesauce
3/4 cup milk (I like 2% best)

Preheat oven to 350.

In a dry skillet, toast the shredded coconut, wheat bran and crushed pecans over medium heat until golden and fragrant, 5 minutes.

In a large bowl, mix the flour, cooked quinoa, toasted coconut/bran/pecans, cherries, ground flax, baking powder, sugar, cinnamon and salt. Stir to combine.

In a smaller bowl, whisk the egg, applesauce and milk until combined. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry and stir just until combined. Divide among a lined-muffin tin and bake for 15 minutes or until a toothpick inserted into the middle of a muffin comes out clean. Let cool and enjoy!

A Lack of Thought [Almond Mint Arugula Falafel with Lemony Avocado Buttermilk Dressing]

Fri, 05 Apr 2013 10:28:00 -0400

I keep coming here with the intention to write a big long spiel about stuff and things and life… and then I get here and just stare at the page, pick at my cuticles, sigh heavily, and walk away.

I’m not sure if it’s a result of a busy few weeks or if I’m actually just getting really boring. I’m hoping it’s the former, because my cuticles are pretty ravaged. The thing about writers block is that it doesn’t just go away… at least not in my case. I tend to just write through it despite not having all that much to say. This isn’t always beneficial when you have readers who expect a certain caliber of writing… so I apologize in advance for the lack of intelligent thoughts, but I promise that block or no block, I’ll always share recipes that make up my shortcomings.

So, like, you know… here are some falafel. They are really good. So good that I ate about 6 of them in one sitting, popping them into my mouth like they were grapes. The creamy, citrus-spiked buttermilk and avocado dressing, which has all the texture of a decadent dressing but is relatively healthy if you’re not afraid of good fat, was perfect with the earthy, herbed falafel. I dunked them into the dressing and enjoyed them as simply as that. But you can absolutely stuff them into a pita or a lettuce wrapped filled with your favourite produce, herbs and sauces.

So make a batch this weekend. And have an intelligent conversation on my behalf, because I will probably be fumbling over my words for a few more days.

Almond Mint & Arugula Falafel with Lemony Avocado Buttermilk
recipe adapted from Green Kitchen Stories
makes 1 dozen falafel

1 cup loosely packed fresh mint leaves
2 cups loosely packed arugula leaves
1 cup toasted almonds
2 cups canned chickpeas
2 cloves garlic, minced
½ small red onion, diced
pinch red pepper flakes, optional
3 tbsp olive oil
1 tsp cumin
1 tbsp flour (whole wheat works!)
1 tsp baking powder
Creamy Buttermilk-Avocado Dressing, recipe follows
Lemon wedges, to serve

Place the herbs and almonds in the bowl of a food processor and pulse until herbs and chopped and almonds are almost ground, a little texture is good.

Add the chickpeas, garlic, red onion, red pepper flakes, olive oil, cumin, flour and baking powder to the bowl and blend until well combined. It’s ok to have some texture and chunks of herbs/chickpeas/onion etc. No need to be TOO picky.

Preheat oven to 350.
Roll about 1 1/2 tbsp scoops into an oval shaped ball and place on a parchment lined baking sheet. Cook for 15 minutes, turning every 5 minutes so they brown evenly on all sides.

Serve on their own with the dressing, or stuff into pita or lettuce wraps with tomatoes, extra herbs, dressing and extra avocado. Serve with extra lemon wedges on the side.

Creamy Buttermilk-Avocado Dressing
1/2 avocado
1-2 tbsp lemon juice, depending on taste
1/4-1/3 cup buttermilk
salt and pepper to taste

Add all ingredients to food processor and blend until smooth. Add a bit of water (or more buttermilk) to thin, if needed. Taste and add more salt or lemon, if needed.

Speedy Meatless Monday [Caramelized Fennel, Roasted Garlic and Tomato Soup with Lemon]

Mon, 01 Apr 2013 10:37:00 -0400

Spring may be inching closer, but that doesn’t mean the lingering chill in the air can’t be battled with a warm bowl of bright, fragrant soup.

Today’s meatless Monday dish has spent many cold, winter nights wrapping my bones in a blanket of steaming hot, vibrant red soup made rich with the addition of savory caramelized fennel and roasted garlic. The splash of lemon at the end brightens the deep flavours and balances everything out. It’s a lick-the-bottom-of-the-bowl sort of soup and one that’s especially well-received when there is little in your fridge to make a meal out of, as seems to be my case lately.

If your evenings are cool and you need something soothing, this soup will fit the bill wonderfully.

Caramelized Fennel, Roasted Garlic and Tomato Soup with Lemon
serves 2 as main, 4 as sides

1 large bulb fennel (about 1 1/2 cups), diced
olive oil
1 head of garlic, roasted*
1 can (1/2 cup) tomato paste
4 cups chicken or veg stock
1 cup water
2-4 tbsp fresh lemon juice, depending on taste
salt and pepper to taste
fennel fronds, optional

Drizzle a pan over med-high heat with a few glugs of olive oil and let it get hot. Add the fennel and a few pinches of coarse salt and let it cook, stirring every 5 minutes or so, until deep brown and caramelized around the edges, 20-30 minutes.

Add the tomato paste and roasted garlic cloves and cook until the paste has deepened in colour and become very fragrant, 6-7 minutes. Add the stock and water, bring to a boil and stir, scraping the bottom of the pot to release all the flavourful bits of fennel and tomato paste. Turn down to a simmer and let it bubble away for 20 minutes. Puree if desired (I like it smooth, but there is nothing wrong with a chunky soup). Add lemon juice, 1 tbsp at a time and taste to see if you’d like to add more. Taste for salt and add more if needed. Ladle into bowls and garnish with fennel fronds and a drizzle of olive oil.

*Roast Garlic
cut top off garlic, drizzle with olive oil and salt, wrap in foil and roast at 400 until golden brown, 30-40 minutes. Let cool, squeeze cloves out into soup.

Anchored Coffee Giveaway!

Fri, 29 Mar 2013 14:00:50 -0400

Coffee and I have developed a fetching relationship over the years.

No longer drowned in cream (“too much moo”, as my friend Melody used to say when this happened) and 2 heaping teaspoons of sugar as was customary for the first 18 years of my life. I wake thinking of that first sip. Will it be from my kitchen? Maybe from the little cafe I frequent on work days? Either way, I look forward to it. Whether in a strong latte or Americano if I’m buying, from the french press if I’m home, it’s a part of my day that I anxiously await. Especially when the coffee itself is really good.

To speed along a story that inspires me constantly; A friend of mine, Tara, moved to Halifax from Ottawa a handful of years ago and started baking for herself and friends in her newly purchased home. From there, a passion for it grew and she began selling her expert croissants and wares at the Halifax Farmers Market. The public fell in love and she started selling out speedily each weekend. From then, a cafe was opened (much more enduring that it sounds, of course). Two if By Sea Cafe in Dartmouth had residents smitten from the get go with it’s excellent coffee brought in from Vancouver and ever-changing “Croissant of the Day” (which is typically something like: green olives, fresh oregano and provolone wrapped in their perfect flaky dough…. right? I know… I know) along with many more sweet and savory tidbits. But wouldn’t you know it? Tara and her business partner Zane weren’t done yet. In 2012, after entering a business plan for a Coffee Roastery in the BDC Young Entrepreneur Award that would eventually leave the pair with a $100,000 cash prize towards this endeavor, Anchored Coffee was born.

Using a direct trade model for green bean purchases, Anchored works to build mutually beneficial and respectful relationships with individual farmers in coffee-producing countries. The coffee is purchased seasonally, from small farms, allowing them to provide wholesalers with an excellent bean. The store, decked out with a roaster from Germany, an espresso machine from the Netherlands, and a “lab” where wholesalers and customers can learn more about the beans and roasting, is a place that yearns to educate as much as please even the most finicky coffee connoisseurs.

Tara shipped me a few bags of the coffee to try out, and I liked it so much (so, so much) that I asked if I might give away a bag of the coffee here so that you can join me in grinding yourself up a fresh pot of the smooth, slow roasted Guzman Estate variety from El Carmen, Huila, Colombia. Along with the coffee, Tara sent an Anchored Coffee t-shirt (S or L) and some buttons for the lucky winner.

To enter: Leave a comment below telling me when you enjoy a cup of coffee the most; morning, noon or night.

For extra entries (OPTIONAL)
1. “Like” Anchored Coffee on Facebook and let me know you’ve done so in a separate comment.
2. Follow Anchored Coffee on Twitter and let me know you’ve done so in a separate comment.

I’ll announce the winner this coming Wednesday, April 3rd and will have your prize package shipped off Thursday.

Best of luck to all participants! I’m rooting for you!

{Please note: This is not a sponsored post. Because Tara is a friend and I truly think her product is in a league of it’s own, I asked if she would ship and giveaway a bag for free. I am not affiliated with Anchored in any way}

Desperately Seeking Sun [Ginger-Cilantro Margaritas]

Mon, 25 Mar 2013 12:38:00 -0400

I’m not usually so bitter towards winter.

We live in a city that inevitably gets 200cm (78”) or more of snowfall each season but come March, when we tend to get a day or two of teasing above zero weather, anger and frustration starts to set in after that warmth is quickly gusted away by yet another city-entombing snowfall. The boots, the shoveling, the digging and pushing and digging and pushing of a stuck car, the dirty, snowy dog paws, and the stirring restlessness that happens after months of dusty heater-breezes where crisp, sun-drenched breezes used to hang.

I want the sun badly. I want to feel my cheeks flush and toasty under it’s rays. I want to spend the weekend on the balcony, catching up on reading, my toes glowing in the late afternoon sun that only manages to hit one corner of the tiny wooden box. I want to muddle Farmer’s Market berries and herbs, drown them in soda water and gin, and invite friends over to gab late into the night, our conversation tangled with the sound of crickets and the swooping sounds of the bats we get in late summer. I want it all, but all there is is more snow. More ice. Heavy coats and sweaty toque-hair.

I made these Thai-inspired margarita’s last week after feeling particularly run down by winter. They have a bright, spicy & aromatic flavour that muddles the spicy Thai ingredients that I’ve become so familiar with in the long winter months, with the bright, icy cold tartness I miss so dearly from the summer. If you’re missing summer, or heck, even if you’re in the midst of it (which I say with only the slightest bit of disdain), I hope you’ll enjoy one of these. Close your eyes and try to remember that it’s just around the corner; all that sun, the informal outdoor parties, bike rides and patios.

Ginger-Cilantro Margaritas
serves 4

I love cilantro in this margarita, but if you’re not one for cilantro (which is an absurd thought for me) you can use Thai basil (preferably) or regular basil. As well, I use a generous amount of ginger both in the syrup and the cocktail itself here. If you want it a touch less kicky, forgo adding the grated ginger into the cocktail.

Ginger Simple Syrup
1/4 cup fresh ginger, cut into thin rounds
1/4 cup sugar, less if you prefer it tart
1 cup water

In a small sauce pot, add the three ingredients. Bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer for 5 minutes. Remove from heat, pour into heatproof jar and cool.

6 sprigs cilantro plus extra leaves for garnish
2 tbsp fresh ginger, grated fine
juice from 3 whole limes
4 oz white tequila
2 oz triple sec, optional
1 1/2 oz ginger syrup
2 cups still or sparkling water
ice cubes

In a cocktail shaker, add the cilantro and ginger and muddle a bit to bruise the cilantro leaves. Add the lime juice, tequila, triple sec (if using) 6 ice cubes and water. Taste and adjust any ingredients if needed (more syrup if it’s too tart, more lime if it’s too sweet) Shake and divide into glasses filled with ice and garnished with cilantro leaves.

MacGyvering Lunch [Anchovy Butter Toast with Spicy Tomato Jam & Broccoli Rabe]

Thu, 21 Mar 2013 14:01:00 -0400

I always imagine what chef’s and other food writers eat when no one is looking, when their fridges are almost empty save for a bit of produce and pantry basics. In my mind, they use these few ingredients to whip up extravagant dishes, the way MacGyver might tunnel his way out of a sticky situation with nothing but a paperclip and coffee spoon.

After interviewing a few chefs for other publications and learning that the meals they have once their aprons come off are less than gourmet, I realize that maybe I’m not alone in my pursuit for simple, but satisfying meals when the rare downtime happens. Eggs typically play a primary role in most of my quick meals, but while I was prepping to make lunch last week and realized the fridge was egg-less, I felt a little panic in the pit of my gut. What does one DO without eggs?! A thought I’m rarely faced with. I peered into the crisper and saw the bundle of broccoli rabe I’d purchased a few days ago and figured that, some greenhouse cherry tomatoes and a few leftover anchovies would have to suffice. What I didn’t realize was that this meal would become one of my favourites to date. The salty, rich anchovy butter, spicy-sweet tomato jam and bitter rabe make for a a mouth explosion I really wasn’t expecting. I’ve made it twice since and it’s still not let me down. This is one for the books and I hope you agree!

Anchovy Butter Toast with Spicy Tomato Jam & Broccoli Rabe
serves 4 as an appetizer or snack

I used a white country loaf because I had it on hand, but Rye bread would be a nice substitution, too!

4 thick slices of crusty country bread
2 tbsp Anchovy Butter, recipe follows
4 tbsp Spicy Tomato Jam, recipe follows
1/2lb garlicky broccoli rabe, recipe follows
Fresh ground pepper
Parmesan cheese, shaved into big pieces (optional)

Preheat oven to 400.

Spread 1/2 tbsp anchovy butter on each slice of bread. Top with tomato jam. Place on a baking sheet and bake until bread is crisp and golden around the edges. Remove from the oven and top with rabe.

Top with fresh ground pepper and Parmesan shreds.

Anchovy Butter
3 anchovy filets (packed in oil), strained
1/2 cup butter, room temperature

In a food processor, add the anchovies and give it a couple whirls so they break down. Add the butter and blend until anchovy is well incorporated into the butter. Keep at room temperature until you’re done with this recipe, and then put it in the fridge for anytime you want a salty, savory bite.

Spicy Tomato Jam
3 tbsp olive oil
1 1/2 cups grape/cherry tomatoes
generous pinch red pepper flakes
salt, to taste
drizzle of honey

Add the olive oil and tomatoes to a heavy pot over med-high heat. Cook until tomatoes start releasing their juice and slumping down into a sauce-like consistency. Add the red pepper flakes, salt and a squeeze of honey and let cook until the sauces reduce and it’s slightly thickened., 10 minutes. Spoon into a sealable jar and set aside for toast. The rest will keep in the fridge for a week or two (and makes a great accompaniment for eggs - surprise, surprise!).

Garlicky Broccoli Rabe
1/2lb broccoli rabe (rapini, broccolini)
olive oil
1 clove garlic
salt, to taste

Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Trim the thick ends of the rabe off and cut into small tree-like piece. Plunge them into the boiling water for 30 seconds, remove and drain.

Heat 1 tbsp olive oil in a skillet over medium heat. Add the garlic, cook for 30 seconds. Add the drained rabe and toss until fragrant and bright.

Cookin' Greens are Entering the Dragon's Den [Cookin Greens Breakfast Pizza]

Mon, 18 Mar 2013 07:54:00 -0400

I had the pleasure of working with Cookin’ Greens on a project recently. They are scheduled to air on Dragon’s Den, a show about aspiring entrepreneurs who pitch their ideas and businesses to five multi-millionaires, with the expertise and money to turn great ideas into incredible fortunes, and a few bloggers were asked to create some recipes that would showcase their healthy, always-ready greens to the audience prior to the air-date (March 24th at 8pm EST on CBC!). Since I already had a bag in my freezer, I couldn’t think of a reason why I wouldn’t want to take part.

So we’re on the same page, Cookin’ Greens are pre-washed, pre-chopped varieties of greens that you can pull out of the freezer and toss into any dish, or serve as a side dish quick and easily. No chopping, no mess, just easily accessible greens that go from from farm to freezer in 6 hours, locking in all those healthy, delicious vitamins and minerals. All you have to do is pour them from frozen into a pan and cook them up. I tend to add them to omelets, pasta dishes, smoothies (especially great since the greens are frozen and add some bulk to the smoothie), and sauteed in a little garlicky oil for dinner.

Part of the task was being paired up with a Dragon that we would all base our recipes on. I was thrilled to be paired up with Arlene Dickinson, entrepreneur, communications mogul and sole owner of Venture Communications. Among many other ventures, Arlene is also the national spokesperson for Breakfast Clubs of Canada, which helps raise awareness of the importance of children having a nutritious start to the day. I wanted to focus on that when I created a breakfast recipe using the Designer Mix variety of Cookin Greens, which has spinach, collard greens, rapini, yellow beans and onion (and no added salt, sugar or fat) - a great mix of flavours that’s as good on it’s own as it is folded into eggs. You can download my recipe for Cookin’ Greens Breakfast Pizza on their Facebook page today. It’s simple, nutritious, and if I may say so, it’s pretty darn tasty, too!

Cooking Greens wants to make sure everyone gets to try their products, and wanted to give away 1 cooler bag and a coupon for a free bag of Cookin’ Greens. All you have to do is comment below letting me know what recipe you’d make for Arlene Dickinson using Cookin Greens. If you “like” their Facebook page, let me know in a separate comment for an extra entry.

Good luck to all who enter and don’t forget to tune in to see Cookin’ Greens battle the Dragons on March 24th at 8pm.

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Disclaimer: This is a sponsored post. Cookin Greens sponsored it and compensated me via a cash payment, gift, or something else of value to write it. Regardless, I only recommend restaurants or products I use/enjoy personally and believe will be good for my readers.

Disappointment & Cake [Maple Porter Chocolate Cake]

Tue, 12 Mar 2013 11:59:00 -0400

Disappointment is something I’ve never taken on with grace. It shrinks my insides and turns them black and jagged as shards of broken glass.

I’m learning, as time passes, that taking on life’s disappointments, of which there will be many, I’m sure, with grace and calm is not always easy, but makes finding the light on the other end a lot less foggy and grim.

This week brought a disappointment that hit me hard. A double blow to the heart and ego that left me raw and with a choice. To fold into myself and let the sadness take over, tightening around my insides like thorned vines, or to dig deep and find the calm I know is in there, buried under tangled knots of anger. I’m trying to choose the calm, granting myself the allowance to feel the hurt but not so much that it nips at my ankles, holding me back from the happiness that tomorrow might bring. It’s not the easiest option, yelling and stomping and burying my face in a pillow would satisfy the darkness, but it’s not how I want to feel, not how I want the following days to play out.

There are things that help release the calm. Chocolate cake, for one. Dense and strewn with dark cocoa and Maple Porter, rich and soul-satisfying, cascaded with tangy buttermilk and cocoa icing. It fills the evenings, when darkness tends to find a crack from which to seep in from, with something to look forward to, something to indulge and slip away into. Whether you’re getting over a disappointment, a heart break or just a hard-won day, this cake is for you. I can vouch for it’s calming abilities, and am certain you’ll agree. Eat it, and feel the calm that only chocolate can bring wash over you like buttermilk icing.

Maple Porter & Chocolate Bundt Cake
adapted from 101 Cookbooks

A friend of mine, Justin, works for Nickle Brook Brewery in Burlington Ontario. When he mentioned they would soon be selling their Maple Porter at liquor stores, I knew instantly that I would make this cake with it (and then drink the remainder of the bottle… at 11am… that what’s darkness does). Nickle Brook uses pure, dark Canadian maple syrup in their robust porter, that’s added before fermentation so it becomes fully integrated in the beer. You can taste the essence of maple, but it’s not sweet or overpowering the way some flavoured porters tend to be. Whether you’re drinking it or cooking with it, it’s worth grabbing a bottle (especially now that it’s sold at the LCBO).

2 cups Nickel Brook Maple Porter
8 tbsp unsalted butter, plus more for the pan
1 cup natural cocoa powder (dark if you can find it), plus more for pan
1 cup whole wheat flour
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 1/2 cups muscovado or dark brown sugar
1 1/2 tsp baking soda
3/4 tsp fine sea salt
3 large eggs
1/4 cup buttermilk
1 1/2 cups plain whole yogurt

Preheat oven to 350.

Butter a large bundt pan and sprinkle about 2 tbsp of cocoa powder into the pan. shake it around until the cocoa coats the pan. Add more if necessary. This is the same as flouring the pan but it won’t turn your beautiful chocolate cake white around the edges.

Bring the 2 cups of porter to a boil in a pot, lower to a simmer and cook until reduced to 1 cup. Remove from heat, add the butter and cocoa powder and set aside to cool.

In a large bowl, mix the flours, brown sugar, baking soda and salt. Stir until evenly combined. Set aside.

In another bowl, whisk the eggs, buttermilk and yogurt until uniform in texture. Gradually add the cooled stout mixture, mixing constantly as you do. Pour in the dry ingredients and fold just until ingredients are combined and no streaks of flour remain. Scrape into the prepared bundt pan. Bake for 35-45 minutes, until knife inserted into the center of the cake comes out clean.

Let the cake cool completely and pour the icing in a ring around the center of the cake. It will melt off beautifully and set gently while still being a little sticky so you can lick it from your fingers as you slice big hunks of the cake onto your plate.

Chocolate Buttermilk Icing:
3/4 -1 cup powdered sugar, depending on taste
1/3 cup natural cocoa powder
2 tablespoons buttermilk

While cake is baking, whisk ingredients together until smooth, at least 1 minute of good whisking. Add more sugar or cocoa if you’d like it thicker, add more buttermilk if you like it thinner. If it’s too sweet, add more cocoa. Not sweet enough? More icing sugar.

Holy Expletive! [Bourbon-Soaked Mandarin & Vanilla Affogato]

Thu, 07 Mar 2013 10:10:00 -0500

Today is a quickie that I couldn’t resist sharing as immediately and urgently as possible. As I sat and sipped it a few evenings ago, spoon screeching against the side of the cup as I struggled to get every last bite into my waiting gob, I realized that this is exactly the type of dessert I could get down with on the regular. Simple, sweet with a bitter counterpart and something sour to break through the richness, and combines your after dinner coffee AND dessert into one. I’m all about efficiency, you know.

This recipe evolved from thinking “Vanilla….bourbon… mandarin… that works, right?!” and holy [expletive], does it EVER work! Especially when the sweetness and tang of the bourbon soaked mandarins is sodden with rich, bitter espresso. It’s got balance for days and the oaky, caramel-flavours of bourbon soaked into the mandarins is something I’m anxious to play with some more.

Affogato, which translates to “drowned” in Italian, is traditionally made by placing a scoop of vanilla gelato in a cup, and drowning it in a shot of hot espresso. Often you’ll find a shot of amaretto in there, too. This version is slightly more complex, but simple as anything. It’s important you use good ingredients; the best vanilla bean ice cream (I used Pascale’s All Natural), an espresso and bourbon you would drink on their own, and ripe, firm mandarins (with as much of the pith removed as possible - in my opinion, that stuff ruins the smooth texture despite all the health benefits).

Bourbon-Soaked Mandarin & Vanilla Affogato
serves 2

1 mandarin, peeled and portioned
1 oz bourbon
4 scoops French Vanilla ice cream
2 shots espresso

In a shallow bowl, mix the portioned mandarin slices and bourbon and let sit, tossing every few minutes, for 30 minutes.

Place 2 scoops of ice cream in two cups or serving dishes. Scatter the soaked mandarin slices around the ice cream and pour a hot shot of espresso into each cup. Now sit back, grab your favourite spoon and DIG IN.

It’s that simple! Enjoy!

A Lack of Brightness [Veal Scallopini with Kalikori Olive Oil Greek Salad]

Mon, 04 Mar 2013 11:06:07 -0500

Winter is always a season that relies on the very best quality pantry staples. If you’re focused on buying and eating seasonally and locally, there is a good chance you’ve been eating little more than lack-luster kale, maybe some leeks or squash, garlic and onions - delicious, no doubt, but not the colourful produce we’re really craving. The odd time you let yourself buy one of those not-quite-red Mexican tomatoes, you understand why you haven’t before. They aren’t tomatoes at all. Our plates lack in colour and life the way we become accustomed to in the summer and the shift in cooking often leads us to eating plate on plate of beige-coloured pastas and deep-brown braises - which are delicious, don’t get me wrong - but much like you, I tend to feel nostalgic for the days of salads bright with citrus dressings and crunchy, just-picked produce. I miss the lightness, the brightness and freshness of summer.

This Veal Scallopini with Greek Salad makes the most of simple produce available in the colder months. Greenhouse tomatoes and cucumbers are plentiful around my neck of the woods and I bet if you look a little closer, you’ll notice there are some from surrounding cities in your area, too! They may not be as sweet and juicy as summer produce, but they do offer a break from that kale you’ve been chomping on for months.

The real star in this dish is the olive oil. You know I’m mad as mad can be for Kalikori Olive Oil and you know that I also have a partnership with them. Like I’ve mentioned, I believe in complete transparency and will never hock something I haven’t purchased, tasted and enjoyed on my own dime first. I get pretty animated when people come to my house and I get to share this product with them. It mimics the brightness that some heavier dishes beg for in the winter, and like a drizzle of acid, it adds another dimension of assertive flavour to any dish. It’s green, grassy flavour and slight bitterness has become something I recognize is missing when I forget to use it - I am quite simply, smitten. Wherever my salt and pepper go, my Kalikori follows. A little drizzle here and there is all you need to liven things up. In the case of this dish, the bright salad cuts through the richness of the fried veal cutlet and balances everything perfectly.

Veal Scallopini with Kalikori Greek Salad
serves 2

Kalikori Olive Oil, based in Montreal QC, is made with first-pressed small, green Vatsikes olives from the Ligris Family Estate near the Kalamata region of Greece. This results in a green coloured oil that’s peppery, bold and bright.

I used mini cucumbers here because they’re less juicy and more structured which helps keep the salad less watery. If you’re using a large cucumber, I would seed it first.

2 3-4oz veal cutlets, pounded thin (1/2”) between two sheets of plastic wrap
¼ cup flour
1 whole egg, lightly beaten
1 cup panko breadcrumbs
½ cup fresh grated Parmesan
½ tsp dried oregano
salt and pepper

Kalikori Greek Salad
1 1/2 cups greenhouse cherry/grape tomatoes, sliced in half
3 mini (1/2 large) greenhouse cucumbers, sliced into half-moons (or quarters if using a large cucumber)
⅓ cup Greek feta, cut into ½” cubes
2 tbsp lemon juice (or white wine/champagne vinegar)
3 tbsp Kalikori Olive Oil
½ - 1 tsp dried oregano, depending on taste
salt and pepper to taste

Pour flour into a shallow dish (the egg in another, and the breadcrumbs/cheese/oregano and a few pinches of salt into another), a pie plate would work well, and place the meat into the flour, covering on all sides. Shake the excess flour from the cutlet, dip into the egg wash, covering on all sides, and then plunge into the breadcrumb mixture. Press meat into the breadcrumbs so they coat the meat well, flip and press into the crumbs again. Repeat with second cultlet.

Heat a heavy skillet with a good layer of vegetable oil over med-high heat until oil sizzles if you flick water on the pan. Place one cutlet at a time into the skillet, letting each side get deep golden brown and cooked through, 3-4 minutes per side. Repeat with second cutlet.

While the cutlets cook, toss all salad ingredients together, taste for salt and pepper and adjust accordingly. Place a cooked cutlet on each plate, top with a few spoonfuls of salad and a drizzle of Kalikori Olive Oil.

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Disclaimer: This is a sponsored post. Kalikori Olive Oil sponsored it and compensated me via a cash payment, gift, or something else of value to write it. Regardless, I only recommend restaurants or products I use/enjoy personally and believe will be good for my readers.

Heart & Home [Coconut Flank & Broccoli Salad with Peanuts and Basil]

Tue, 26 Feb 2013 10:12:00 -0500

I’m sorry… did I go to Mexico or was that just a sublime delusion?

I blinked and it was over. Days on days of burying my nose in My Berlin Kitchen, romancing over a life that wasn’t nearly mine, sipping piquante bloody mary’s or mojitos while observing a motley crew of intensely-hued tropical fish swim circles around my ever-browning toes, kissing dolphins on the nose (which made me squeal in an octave I’m not sure has been identified by humans yet), standing still while spider monkeys crawled around my head, tangling sesame seed shells into my salt-crusted hair, sipping mimosas while kayaking around a lagoon and yelping that the electric-coloured crabs would jump 6 feet to our boat (unlikely…I realize) and finishing each evening recounting our day over red wine and Jacuzzi baths (guys. seriously. the Cadillac of Jacuzzi tubs sat a mere two feet from our bed). It was a trip not filled with much culture or adventure, but one rich in relaxation, time together reconnecting, and plenty…PLENTY…of sub-par dining options. As most resorts tend to excel in.

On our last day, I started thinking of what I would cook when I came home. I needed something rich in colour, vegetables and zingy, bright flavour (everything we ate was rich and salty….but not balanced with any sort of citrus or acid). I spent much time during our week away immersed in the Donna Hay Magazine spring issue. Every recipe had my mouth literally puckering and drooling like a toddler, and I anxiously dog-earred pages, knowing full well that the second I got home, I would drop my bags and sprint as fast as I could to the nearest store for produce and ingredients to make these dishes my reality. I returned home the day before my birthday and while most wishes I received directed me to have someone else cook for me on my day, the only thing I was wishing for was to have my feet planted firmly in front of my cutting board; chopping, whisking, marinating, searing… the words I’d missed so genuinely that had been replaced with “room service” and “buffet” and “Me gustaría pedir…”. I love my kitchen. It is heart and home as much as my bed, my Allan, my animals.

This dish is vastly different than the one in the magazine in preparation. The ingredients are identical, but because I bought flank instead of rump, I decided to marinate it in the coconut mixture that was only used to soak peanuts and cook broccoli in the original. It produced a savoury, rich marinate AND sauce for the dish that I can’t wait to experiment with again. I hope you enjoy making it as much as eating it, and relish in the act of chopping and searing, as I did.

Coconut Flank & Broccoli Salad with Peanuts and Basil
adapted from Donna Hay Magazine

1 cup coconut milk
1 tbsp brown sugar
2 tsp fish sauce
2 tbsp soy sauce
2 tbsp lime juice
2 tbsp peanut or vegetable oil
2lb flank steak, trimmed of excess fat
1/2 cup peanuts, roasted & unsalted
4 cups thinly sliced broccoli florets (or broccolini)
1/3 cup basil leaves

In a large sealable container (or zip bag), add the coconut milk, brown sugar, fish sauce, soy, lime and oil. Stir to combine and tuck the flank steak into the mixture. Seal, chill and marinate 3 hours, up to overnight.

Place a large cast iron skillet or grill-pan over high heat with a bit of neutral oil (veg or peanut) in it. Remove the flank from the marinate, shaking to remove excess marinade, and place on the pan for 4-5 minutes on each side for medium-rare. I don’t recommend cooking past med-rare as flank tends to get tough if over cooked. Remove and wrap in tin foil to rest.

Pour leftover marinade and peanuts into a sauce pan and bring to a boil. Turn down to a simmer and add the broccoli and toss around a bit. Cover and cook just until bright green but still crunchy in the center, 2 minutes. Remove and set aside. Let coconut marinade continue to simmer until reduced and deep brown. It should coat the back of a spoon.

Slice flank into very thin slices, cutting against the grain, and at a slight diagonal so that the slices are wide. Toss the meat with the broccoli and thickened coconut and peanut mixture, taste for seasoning and add salt if needed. Spoon onto a platter or serving dishes and top with basil leaves and extra lime wedges. I serve with lots of spicy Sriracha as it tends to go well with these flavours.

To stretch the dish out and provide something a bit more filling, serve with rice or rice noodles.

Flying Away to Mexico [Chorizo & White Bean Stew]

Wed, 13 Feb 2013 15:30:00 -0500

YOU GUYS.

This is my last post before I head to Riviera Maya, Mexico with my handsome man for a week of bun-sunning, toes-in-sanding, coconut-drinking, hammock-laying and maybe some tequila-drinking (FYI: “Maybe” means “absolutely, definitely, 100% a lot of tequila drinking”). We head there tomorrow morning and I haven’t quite had a chance to get excited yet because work and life have been so incredibly packed with things to do. I won’t keep you long, but I wanted to share this recipe with you before I go. And I really hope you’ll make it while I’m gone and maybe, if it’s not too much to ask, take a picture and send it to me so I can look at it and remember how much I love and miss you all (ok, I’m only going for a week which isn’t long AT ALL, but still, guys. Just do it, ok!?)

This stew is ridiculously simple. Nothing but a few pantry items involved, but I will insist that you buy really good quality fresh chorizo. That’s the flavour-maker in this stew and it needs to be a product that’s made with big, powerful flavors that haven’t been sitting around in packaging for weeks (or months). If you can’t find a high quality chorizo, than I’d suggest going with another high quality sausage of your choosing (an Italian would be lovely here – especially if you can find a good spicy one). As well, a good homemade stock, or at least one you’d be willing to sip on its own, makes a big difference in the overall flavour of the soup. Because the ingredients are so few, finding the best ones becomes paramount for an impeccable finished product. The creamy white beans, bold crumbly sausage and savoury broth swimming with onions will melt you right to your core.

I was feeling slightly under the weather (err… hungover) last Sunday and this stew got me right back on track. Warmed my tummy, filled my body with nourishment, and the fattiness from the sausage never hurts a hangover now, does it? Short of a super spicy Bloody Caesar, this might be the next best hangover cure!

Chorizo and White Bean Stew
adapted from Bon Appetit
Serves 2-4 depending on how hungry your tummies are

I used Seed to Sausage chorizo in this dish and highly recommend you do the same if you’re able to find it in your grocer/market. And if you can find it at your market, I suggest you stock up on EVERYTHING because once you taste it, you’ll want to try everything Michael McKenzie and his crack team of butchers and chefs puts out. It’s just that good.

olive oil
1lb fresh Chorizo
1 large onion, thinly sliced
4 garlic cloves, minced
2 sprigs of fresh thyme
2 cans cannellini (white kidney) beans, rinsed well
2 cups good quality chicken stock
1/2 tsp Smoked paprika (more if desired)
sea salt and fresh ground pepper
4 big handfuls of baby spinach

Drizzle about 1 tbsp of oil into a large heavy skillet over medium-high heat. Add the sausage and let it cook to a golden brown on all sides and cooked through, about 15 minutes. Remove the sausage to a plate. Turn the heat down a touch to medium and add the onion. Cook until golden brown, 5-6 minutes. Add the garlic and thyme and cook for another minutes. Add the beans, stock, paprika and a few pinches of salt and fresh ground pepper. Use the back of your spoon to crush some of the beans and thicken the stew slightly (option, but gives nice texture). Bring to a simmer and cook for 10 minutes. Slice the sausage into bite-sized chunks while the stew cooks. Remove from heat, fold in the spinach and sausage until spinach is just wilted. Spoon into bowls and drizzle with moe olive oil and a sprinkle of smoked paprika.

TAKE A PICTURE! TWEET TO @THEGOUDALIFE ( @THEGOUDALIFE ON INSTAGRAM!) OR POST ON FACEBOOK PAGE!

Get your vegetables out of here! [Beef Shoulder and Black Bean Chili stuffed Baked Potatoes]

Tue, 05 Feb 2013 12:34:00 -0500

I’m not crazy about chili. I don’t know why, but it’s not something that sets me off the way it seems to everyone else. Granted, I’ve been served plenty of chili that’s bland and flavorless, under-seasoned and made with pre-ground meat that doesn’t offer the tender, beefy texture a real chili should have.

While I’m sure some of you swear by the addition of a whole crispers worth of vegetables, lots of beans, tomatoes and grains (you healthy buggers!), I’m just not there with you. Chili is meat. Meat, a pantheon of fresh ground spices, beer, coffee, golden brown onions and one type of bean, if any. I like it pure, untarnished by outside flavours, rich and filled with chunks of slow-braised beef shoulder. And if one bite of celery, or god-forbid KALE, gets in the way of my meat, I’ll be none too impressed. Vegetables have their place and time and dagnabbit, it’s not in my chili!

This recipe is chili the way I like it. It’s deep brick red in colour, impossibly rich and creamy and rather than a full crisper, it packs almost a whole spice cabinet’s worth of flavour. The chocolate may seem off if you haven’t added it to your chili before, but it gives the it a creaminess and richness that will explode your world.

Stuffing this chili goodness into a baked potato isn’t totally necessary, but it IS totally delicious and makes the meal a little rounder. If you prefer the chili on it’s own, I guess I can accept that.As long as you promise to pile it extra high with toppings. I’ll sleep better at night knowing that.

Beef Shoulder and Black Bean Chili stuffed Baked Potatoes
serves 4-6

Fresh spices make a world of difference in the flavour department here, but if you’ve only got pre-ground that’s perfectly fine, too.

3lbs well-trimmed beef shoulder (blade steaks/chuck roast), cut into 1/2” cubes
2 tbsp flour
salt & pepper
canola oil
2 large onions, diced
5 large cloves garlic, minced
2 tbsp fresh ground cumin
1 tbsp ground coriander seeds
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp allspice
2 tbsp dried oregano
3 tbsp chili powder
1 tbsp smoked paprika
1 tbsp (or less) ground chili pequín or cayenne pepper
1/4 cup tomato paste
1/2 cup strong brewed coffee or espresso
1 330ml bottle stout
1 cup beef stock or water
2 oz bittersweet chocolate
1 can black beans, rinsed and pureedor whole (optional)
2-4 tbsp favourite hot sauce

Optional Toppings
Manchego, Old Cheddar, or Sovrano cheese
Thin-sliced green onions/chives
Cilantro
Pickled jalapeno
Sour cream or Yogurt
Minced red onion
Extra hot sauce
Avocado chunks
Lime wedges

Set a dutch oven or large heavy-bottom pot over med-high heat and add a few turns of canola oil. In two batches, toss cubes of beef with flour and a few pinches each of salt and pepper and throw into the hot pot. Let beef brown all over, stirring occasionally, for 10 minutes. Remove with a slotted spoon to a plate.

Once meat is all browned and removed from the pot, add another drizzle of oil and the onions. Cook until nice and golden, 5-6 minutes. Add the garlic and cook for another minute. Add all the spiced and the tomato paste and cook until paste is caramelized, 10-12 minutes. It will be extremely fragrant at this point (which is a really, really good thing!). Add the meat back to the pot with the coffee, beer and stock (or water) and chocolate. Bring to a boil scraping the stuck-on flavour at the bottom of the pot. Add the black beans and hot sauce and turn the heat down to a simmer. Cook for 3 hours or until beef is extremely tender. Taste for seasoning and add more salt, if needed.

If you’re stuffing baked potatoes; Preheat oven to 375 and wrap 4 russets in foil one hour before chili is finished. Pop into the oven and forget about them for an hour or until a fork goes easily through the potato. Cut the tops off, scoop out a little of the fluffy potato goodness and stuff those suckers with plenty of Chili.

Little Puggish Nuts [Cocoa Hazelnut Granola with Sour Cherries]

Fri, 25 Jan 2013 15:12:00 -0500

I’ve always thought hazelnuts to be lavish and exotic. We never really ate them or had them laying around as kids, aside from the holidays when we’d receive boxes and boxes of gold foil-wrapped Ferraro Rocher chocolates with one smooth, crunchy hazelnut entombed in milk chocolate and dipped into more chocolate studded with chopped hazelnuts. Peeling away the little crimped cup and foil always made me feel so fancy - far more so than tearing the plastic (pfft…please!) from a snickers bar.

I find myself tucking my beloved hazelnuts into everything these days - pestos, salads, homemade nut butters, ground into smoothies or mixed with breadcrumbs for a crispy coating. When toasted lightly, their flavour is so distinct, rich and unlike any other nut available. They don’t hide behind the flavours you mix them with, they always stand out dominantly, refusing to melt into the background. I love that about them.

This granola, like my dear puggish hazelnuts, is bold and beautiful. It’s full of texture and flavour and comes together so brilliantly, you’d wonder why they don’t sell a pre-made version of it already (answer: because it’s never as good as homemade!). I’ve been crunching away at it for the past few days and I’m fairly certain it just kicked the fanny of my favourite almond granola. Because I wanted the flavour of the main ingredients to really shine, I didn’t add too many other flavourings. You’re welcome to play around with spices in it, but I suggest trying it on it’s own first. It’s simple and doesn’t need much fuss about it.

Cocoa Hazelnut Granola with Sour Cherries
adapted from Food in Jars

I used coconut oil because I love it, primarily, but it’s also a very healthy oil (which is up for debate with some people, I realize, but I feel good about it), you can feel free to use whatever neutral oil (sunflower, vegetable etc) you like or have on hand.

1 cup toasted hazelnuts, rough chopped
1/2 cup flaked coconut (sweetened or unsweetened)
3 cups rolled oats
3 tbsp cocoa powder
1/2 tsp flaky sea salt
1/4 cup coconut oil, melted
1/3 cup honey
1/2 cup dried sour cherries, rough chopped

Preheat oven to 325.

In a large bowl, mix the nuts, coconut, rolled oats and cocoa powder. Give it a good mix to make sure the cocoa powder is evenly distributed.

Mix the honey and the melted coconut oil until well combined. Add the wet ingredients and salt to the oat mixture and mix until everything is well combined.

Spread evenly on a foil lined baking sheet and pop into the oven for 20-30 minutes, stirring every 10 minutes to make sure the edges don’t burn. When it’s golden brown and crunchy, it’s all ready. Let it cool completely (this helps those big, wonderful ‘clumps’ of granola form) and then stir in the sour cherries. Keeps for a few weeks in a sealed glass jar or ziplock bag.

Serve with milk or on top of yogurt, by itself or with fresh fruit.