Feast: Happy Easter! Buona Pasqua!

Happy Easter to all who celebrate!  I hope you and yours had a wonderful Easter, filled with good people, good fun and (of course) good food.

After a longer and harder winter than usual, Little Robin Redbreast hops through shoots of grass and tells me warmer weather will soon arrive.  This of course means soon trees will bud,  my irises will  their striated leaves through the ground, and of course favourite farmers' tweets about their spring rituals will fill my Twitter feed.

I start thinking about my Easter feast when the leaves begin to turn and we all begin to resettle into shorter days and longer nights.  Rarely do my plans hold true.  In September I thought about roasting turkey; in January that turkey became an Indian-themed dinner.  

By March, Italy and the thoughts of homemade porchetta filled my mind.  Previously I'd done a Tuscan-style pork roast--a bit of a cheat on porchetta for those who don't want to wrap and tie a pork belly around a roast--so going the extra step only seemed right. Our Dear Little Puff of Cream suggested a recipe, and Alessandro gave me some moral support and tips as to what he looks for in porchetta (tip:  it's all about the crackling). The meal was rounded out with roasted capsicums, garlic and onions tossed with marinated artichokes in olive oil and lemon, grilled asparagus dressed in balsamic and parmesan, and potatoes mashed with (more) roast garlic.  I took a bit of a liberty with dessert, opting for a citrussy limoncello tiramisu.

Instead of snapping pics of each item, I decided to offer images and recipe links to the porchetta and tiramisu.

Porchetta (Bon Appetit (Sept 2011))
If you ever need a reason to go to a real butcher, this is it.  Matt (my favourite butcher), presented me with some beautiful tamworth pork, and he trimmed the belly to fit the loin exactly.

The roasted, fennelly-spicy meat was simply sublime.  And the crackling?  Burnished and amazing.




Tiramisù al Limoncello (Lidia Matticchio Bastianich)
As a means to shake off winter's heavy mantle, I wanted an Italian dessert that also brought a promise of sunny skies and warm weather.  Lemon and limoncello fit the bill.

Don't let the fact this contains alcohol scare you--it's cooked off in both the zabaglione and the simple syrup, allowing its boozy nature evaporate. And what's better?  It can be made ahead (up to two days).




cheers!
jasmine
 I'm a quill for hire!

The contraption: Slow Cooker Chicken Cacciatore

I asked Santa for a slow cooker.

My thinking, of course, was since I'm doing more pot lucks where I can neither pop home to get my prepared dish, nor have access to a proper stove, a slow cooker was the obvious option. I can either cook it during the day in some accessable space, or keep whatever I've made the night before warm enough to be palatable.

Santa heard. Santa bought. Santa delivered.

I'm now the owner of a seven quart (6.5L) slow cooker.

I fully realise that me (single and childless) owning such a vessel is akin to Kate Moss owning a 38G bra: wishful thinking at best, delusional at worst.

That's what Santa brought, so that's what I'm going to spend the next year of my life learning how to use.

My introduction to the contraption was akin to setting myself down in front of a blind date. After years of listening to friends and colleagues go on and on about how wonderful it is, and how we'd probably get along, there it sat across from me, all shiny and full of promise. I even found a recipe which I adjusted to better suit my palate.

And like many a blind date, I'm left wondering why on Earth I got my hopes up.

Problem number one: I read the instruction manual. Apparently only qualified operators are allowed to use it. How does one become a qualified operator? Well, one must read and thoroughly understand the manual. No testing. No certificate. Not even a tinned bit of Edward Elgar by kazoo.

I guess if I burned my condo down because I thought I understood the instructions, the manufacturer is trying to absolve itself of any liability. By their logic I obviously lack the necessary mind-reading skills deduce the manual-writer's intention, regardless of what he, she or it committed to words. Talk about a Catch-22.

Problem number two: I bought a couple of slow cooker cookbooks, both of which strongly suggested I brown meat and do some pre-cooking. This baffles me. I thought the entire idea of a slow cooker was essentially a one-pot, wham-bam-forget-it-ma'am type way to feed myself and the invisible army that my slow cooker's capacity dictates.

By the time I was done browning the meat (and by choice the sauteeing mushrooms and onions) I realised that I could easily finish the entire meal in about an hour or so, leaving the pot to quietly blurble away on a nearly invisible flame just to keep it warm. Regardless, by the end of it, I had three pots to wash.

But this was my first slow cooker meal. As per the manual, I didn't preheat the cooker and tipped everything into the pot.

Problem number three: My name is Jasmine and I'm a home cook. I adjust flavours as I go. I know even though these two carrots came from the same bag, this carrot over here could be more carrotty in taste than that one over there. I know that this chicken over here may have actually had the opportunity to walk around before it met with its Marie Antoinette-like fate, where as her cousin was probably stuck in some cage somewhere before she became a cellophaned carcass in the bigscarymegamart's meat case. In other words: ingredients are subject to variations in flavour. I may need more sour, less salt and maybe some sugar than a recipe calls to make the flavours balance. I don't know until I start browning and mixing and sniffing and tasting.

Slow cooking doesn't really allow me to do such adjustments. Every time I open the lid, I need to add 20 minutes of cooking time. Three lifted lids means an extra hour of cooking. So, in hopes of not adding cooking time, I prayed to the kitchen gods that I balanced out the flavours correctly before I turned on the contraption.

Good gravy.

Which leads to problem number four: This is a mightily wet cooking method. Whereas most stews and saucy dishes I make benefit from slow cooking but also reducing liquids to produce clinging, thick, flavourful sauces, my first venture into slow cooking left me with a very wet, soup-like stew. Of course I could add a thickener: a beurre manié or cornflour, but they lack the flavour building that evaporation brings. I must admit that when I reheated leftovers the next day, I tipped everything into my wok and simmered it for about 20 minutes. I was happier.

Before I did that, I tasted it.

Problem number five: Everything tastes the same. The carrots taste like the chicken taste like the mushrooms taste like the peppers. Maybe it's my innate Canadianness, but I think dishes like soups and stews are better when you can actually appreciate and identify individual ingredients, and how well they work together, as opposed to tedious homogeneity.

I know. It seems weird and somewhat wrong. This elevated concept of dump and heat "cooking" is my 2010 project. It's a bit more than that. I'm trying to convince myself that this contraption is not a waste of space, nor a waste of Santa's hard-earned money. My books tell me this thing is much more than an overblown soup-maker, and can make puddings and cakes as well as roasts and ribs. Wish me luck. I think I'm going to need it.

Slow Cooker Chicken Cacciatore
1.5 kg chicken, cubed into 2-3cm pieces
225g sliced mushrooms
1 rib celery, sliced thinly
1 carrot, sliced into thinnish coins
2 onions, sliced into lunettes
1 bell pepper, slivered
3 Cloves garlic, minced
1 x 796ml tin chopped tomatoes
1 tsp white wine vinegar
1 tsp salt
1 tsp black pepper
0.5 tsp dried thyme
0.5 tsp dried rosemary
Olive oil

Saute onions and mushrooms until soft. Remove to cooker.

Brown chicken in olive oil, remove to cooker.

In a slow cooker, place the carrots, celery, pepper, tomatoes, garlic, thyme, rosemary, salt, pepper, chicken broth and chicken. Cover and cook on high for 3-4 hours.




cheers!
jasmine


I'm a quill for hire!

Where I went for my summer Vacation: Ottawa

Gosh, that was a good vacation. Even though I ran around like a madwoman, it was a good kind of "ran around like a madwoman."

It wasn't the same-old-same-old rush to the office, answer calls, shoot off emails, run to meetings while not spilling coffee, impatiently wait in the microwave queue, write this, correct that, tell someone this, tell them this again, queue for coffee, more meetings, more calls and even more emails, try and remember where you parked your car so you can sit in the parking lot that is the expressway home so we can get something to eat before going off to yoga, an interest class, gals night out, boys night in, shopping and try and tackle that room that's been taken over by cartons, broken bits and things the cats hide kind of rush.

It's more of a where can I go, who can I meet up with and what can I see kind of busy:a good, if not fulfilling kind of busy.

I last took the train more than eight years ago. Commuting is different to vacationing, but old habits returned quickly--sitting in the same area, instinctively getting up at the same time, and (most important to me) blocking out all the ambient chatter. Sorry to all those who like to natter at their seatmates while trapped in confined spaces, but for me those travel hours were already booked with Christopher Brookmyre, Bill Bryson, Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Monique Proulx (sorry Irvine Welsh, but I just couldn't get to you). Yes, I'm a reader...and darn proud of it. I will say I found it interesting that my seatmates seemed to have an affinity to whatever I was reading at the time: Brookmyre and Bryson had me with (even just temporarily) a very handsome Brit, Garcia Marquez had a dangerously young and handsome Spaniard strike up conversation with me. Oh...and the woman next to me while reading Proulx had some pretty bouncy hair.

Apart from a few minor delays, I arrived at my destination no worse for wear with a bright and smiley Jenny of All Things Edible greeting me. She graciously gave me use of her spare room while I was in Ottawa. After a quick stop home, we met Mary of Beans and Caviar and did what it seems all foodbloggers are doing this summer: we headed out to the cinema and see Julie and Julia (here's my review). I adore these ladies--warm and funny with an incredible love of food--Jenny and Mary, that is...

Afterwards we supped at an Italian restaurant and nattered over a shared plate of calamari. Jenny had a seafood pasta dish, Mary had a chicken dish and I satified my craving for veal piccata. Unfortunately, the restaurant was very dark and the necessary Photoshopping to transform blobs of dark into delicious foods would be onerous...and, to my mind, dishonest--that much tweaking is to me as fake as using sugared lard instead of ice cream in a foodporn picture. I do wish I'd gotten a picture of Jenny and Mary, though.

The next day Jenny took me to the Ottawa Farmers' Market and I snapped picture after picture. Here are just a few:

After spending some time at Michael's grave I met up with some friends for, what else, but food and conversation. My lunch with a colleague was slightly delayed by the maze of closed streets and a parade which forced me to find new ways up to Parliament Hill. Thank goodness he was patient and stuck around for me. A pub lunch's conversation centred around music: blues, jazz, folk, Gordon Lightfoot, Stan Rogers, Bachman and Cummings. It was great sitting down and talking about things that were so far removed from work. He walked me to the patisserie I met a dear, dear high school friend I'd not seen in...um...15 years...I think. It was great catching up, commiserating and cavorting with her.

Yeah...no pictures of those either. Especially of the bee that took a liking to my pear and almond tart as well as my café au lait (remember this, this will turn up in a later post).

It was a fabulous but whirlwind of a trip. Jenny: thank you so much for everything. You and your family are absolutely wonderful.

Veal picatta is an incredibly quick and easy non-recipe recipe dish. Sauted pieces of veal in a lemon-white wine sauce If you don't eat veal, you can easily substitute chicken or even pork, but as I have no such restrictions to my carnivorism I happily toss this together when I get the craving.

Essentially all you need to do is coat thin strips of veal (or chicken or pork) in seasoned flour before frying. Then mix equal volumes of white wine and stock with lemon juice and reduce in the fond-encrusted fry pan. Add lemon zest (and some capers if you wish) and return the meat to the pan for a minute before plating.

When I made the dish I lacked one key ingredient: white wine. Given I was only making enough for 250g of veal, I made an adequate (yet imperfect) substitute of a tablespoon of white wine vinegar, a squeeze of honey, a couple of tablespoons of apple cider and enough water to bring the mixture to somehwere between 3/4 cup and one cup level. I adjusted things to taste and used only as much as I needed--in this case a 1/4 cup. Again, it's not perfect, but I'm not going to run out for a bottle of wine when all I need is a 1/4 cup.

Veal Piccata

500g veal cutlets, pounded thinly, coated in seasoned flour

Olive oil and butter for frying

Juice of 1 lemon

125ml white wine

125ml chicken stock

Grated zest of 1/2 lemon

optional: capers, drained well

optional: chopped parsley for garnish

Over medium heat, fry the meat (in batches, if necessary) in oil and butter until brown. Remove to a plate before adding lemon juice and wine to the pan. Scrape up the fond before adding stock. Bring to a rapid boil and reduce the liquid by half.

Return the veal to the pan; add the lemon zest and optional capers. Cook for a minutes or

so an then serve. If desired, sprinkle with parsley before serving.

cheers!
jasmine

What I'm reading:

I'm a quill for hire!