Balsamic glazed duck with lentils

The palate worm struck again.  This time the craving monster wanted duck.  Simple enough--no real curveballs -- just a lovely duck breast with lovely crispy skin with a lovely pink centre.

The only problem?  It's not duck season (for that matter, it may not be rabbit season, either).

Oh, palate worm, you are a sneaky one...making me believe that you can be easily satisfied

I called my favourite butcher and there was no joy--his supplier wasn't able to get any in yet.  Several rounds of telephone tag later and more than 30 minutes on the road and one lovely, plumptious duck breast was in my hot little hands.

So now what?

Part of me wanted to rub it in juniper, part of me wanted to create a spicy masala for it.  Then my mind hovered over orange and cherry.  What to do, what to do...

I thought of the lovely crisp skin...then it hit me.  Even though a lot of duck fat is rendered, there's always a thin layer left (at least when I do it).  That wee bit of richness would do well with a bit of tanginess, tinged with a bit of sweet and punctuated with a bit of a bite.  After some reading and recipe perusing, it was clear this breast should be bushed with a balsamic glaze.

Cooking duck breast is relatively easy, so I didn't really want to make a complicated dish to  accompany it.  Lentils mixed with bacon, sautéed mushrooms and vegetables seemed to be the obvious pairing.

The full meal is really quite simple to prepare (really, if I can do it, anyone can), and once the veggies have been chopped can be pulled together in less than an hour...which, I think, places it within Wednesday night supper party territory (or, in my case, Wednesday night supper territory...with enough leftovers for Thursday lunch).


Balsamic-glazed duck with lentils with mushrooms and bacon
Serves two


Ingredients

For the lentils:

100g (3.5oz/3-4 rashers) rashers of smoked bacon, chopped roughly

Olive oil or butter, for frying

1 shallot, minced

100g (3.5oz/approx 1.33c) sliced mushrooms

2 garlic cloves, minced

1 celery rib, finely chopped

1 medium carrot, diced finely

110g (9Tbsp/0.5c +1Tbsp) dried puy lentils (green lentils)
1 bay leaf

500ml (2c) vegetable broth

For the duck:
1 duck breast
salt
pepper
75ml (0.33c) balsamic vinegar
1Tbsp (15ml) runny honey


Method


First...the lentils.


In a pot, sauté the bacon until crispy.  Remove to a bowl.  Sauté the shallots in the bacon fat until wilted.  Add the mushrooms (and a bit of oil or butter if you need it), with a good sprinkling of pepper. Add the garlic with the mushrooms are soft.  Stir for about 30 seconds or until the garlic's scent is released.  Tip the mixture into the bowl with the bacon.


Add about a spoonful of oil or butter (or duck fat!) to the pan.  Soften the carrots and celery in the fat.  Add the lentils and the bay leaf and give it a good stir.  Pour in the stock, bacon and mushrooms and stir well.  Over medium-high heat, bring the pot to a boil and let bubble for about five minutes.  Turn down the heat and let simmer for about 30-45 minutes or until the lentils are tender and most of the liquid has evaporated.  Stir and balance flavours to taste.


Next...the duck.


While the lentils are cooking, score the skin in a  harlequin (or a diamond) pattern, with the tip of a sharp knife--cut deeply enough to cut the fat, not the meat.  Rub a pinch or two of salt and pepper into both sides of the breast.  


Place the breast skin-side down on a cold, heavy pan.  Turn the hob to low to medium-low heat and let the fat slowly render, while crisping the skin to a golden colour.  This will take about 10-15 minutes.  


Remove the breast to a plate, pour off (but save!) the duck fat.  Brush a tablespoon or so of the fat onto the meat side and return the breast, meat side down to the pan.  Sear over medium-low to medium heat for about two to five minutes.  Remove the breast to a plate and cover tightly with foil (let rest at least five minutes).


While the duck is resting, make the balsamic glaze.  Remove excess fat from the pan and  pour in the balsamic vinegar and honey, add a couple of pinches of salt and a good amount of pepper (enough to satisfy your palate).  Give it a stir.  Over medium heat reduce the mixture by half, until it's thick and syrupy.


Brush the skin side of the duck with the balsamic reduction  (and the meat side, if you wish), and thinly slice the breast.


Serve immediately, laying duck slices over the lentils.


Notes:

• Be sparing when adding salt as commercial broths and bacon can be quite salty
• Don't throw away that lovely duck fat!  Decant to a baggie and freeze it for the next time you roast or fry potatoes.
• The older your lentils, the longer they will take to soften, so check the lentils after 30 minutes to see how they're doing, and go on from there.

cheers!
jasmine
 I'm a quill for hire!

Sauteed Cabbage, Potatoes and Bacon

Savoy cabbages make me smile.

I can't help it. There's something about those deeply lined leaves and their crinkled edges. There's also something to be said about the colour: graded blue-green tones with stark palid veining that remind me of pine trees' boughs laidened with snow.

There's also a bit of whimsy there and I can't help but to see if Peter Rabbit is hopping about the grocery store bins and shelves.

I can't resist but bring one home with me.

I know not everyone likes cabbage. Too many heads have found their way, boiled into a sulphurous and somewhat slimy end.

I suppose if that was my first introduction to cabbage, I'd feel the same way. But it wasn't. My first (and still, to this day), favourite way to have cabbage is as cabbage thoren: a dry stirfry made with black mustard and fresh coconut. No, I don't have a recipe--it's one that I want to get from my Dear Little Cardamummy. When I do--and when I adapt it to be my own--I'll post it.

It's not slimy or overcooked. There's no pungent smell. It yields slightly to the tooth but retains some colour and crispness. The mellowed green flavour is what cabbage, when treated with a bit of tenderness, should taste like. Or at least I think so.

When I bring home a curly green head of Savoy cabbage, there are few things more satisfying to me than this all-in-one dish of cabbage, potatoes and bacon. Last night's leftover potato gets cubed and sauteed in bacon fat and tumbled with slightly steamed cabbage. It's pretty much a non recipe-recipe--the quantities aren't written in stone, and the flavours can be changed to suit your taste with the addition of caraway, butter or even a bit of cream.

Cabbage, potatoes and bacon
Serves 4-6 as a main course, more as a side dish.

Ingredients:
100g (3-4 rashers) bacon, chopped
olive oil
1 onion, slivered from pole to pole
2 garlic cloves, minced
salt
pepper
450g (1lb) boiled Yukon Gold potatoes, cubed into 1cm dice (2 good-sized potatoes)
450g (1lb) cabbage (Savoy or white), cored and shredded
3-4 Tbsp water
a few drops of white vinegar

Method:
Frizzle bacon in oil, until half-cooked. Add onions, garlic as well as a good pinch or two of pepper and one of salt. Fry until the bacon is cooked and has rendered its fat. Remove mixture to a bowl, leaving as much fat in the pan as possible.

Fry potatoes in batches until tinged with gold, adding the crisped potatoes to the bacon mixture.

Tip the shredded greens into the pot and saute for a minute or two. Add water and vinegar and a pinch of salt. Lid the pot, letting the veg steam for a few minutes until the colour is vibrant, but the leaves are still crisp.

Return the bacon, onions and potatoes to the pan and stir well. Balance flavours to taste.

cheers!
jasmine
I'm a quill for hire!

Food to mend a bruised heart: Part Three: Maple-glazed peppered bacon

There's nothing like a good breakfast to start a new adventure.

Granted, I'm not trekking through deepest, darkest Peru in search of the spectacled bear (or any other of Paddington's relatives); I'm not off to Tanzania to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro, and I've not applied to CSIS (but really, if they need an accusedly adorable short chick who can not only string words together well but bring in the occasional cupcake, tart or biscuit to share, all they need to do is call. Besides, can't you see me as a Miss Marple (à la Margaret Rutherford)-meets-Thursday Next-meets-Nora Charles (especially when she gives that look when people are being idiots and she can't say anything...like the look I give the exbf when he's half-way through a sentence) with a bit of Nero Wolfe thrown in for good measure? See...I'd be perfect there).

I write of the final stage of bruised heart-mending: getting over him and considering returning to those murky dating waters again.

And they are murky.

I peeked into the online dating site where I met Dear Soul.

Eeek.

About half the guys were there two years ago--including *gasp* the superficial and rude ones. Many of the newer ones don't post photos and the "in thing" seems to be leaving a blank profile. Glah. I've even perused some picture-free, information-free theoretically wannabe half-of-a couple candidates whose 100 words mostly comprise of "I'm good looking and fun. Looking for the same. No pic, no response--fair is fair" Umm. Yeah. Good luck with that.

I'm not quite ready to go back out there yet, but at least I can bring myself to thinking about possibly maybe finding someone...at some point...later.

But before I do that, a good breakfast is in order. Not one of those poncey fruit and yoghurt with wheat grass juice dealies. I'm talking of real breakfast. The type that sends farmers off to the fields. The type that makes oleophobes quake in their boots. The type that gets you going the morning after the night before.

You know it:

Maple glazed peppered bacon.

Eggs.

Pumpernickel toast with butter and marmelade.

Fried mushrooms.

Hash brown potatoes

Tea.

Heaven on a plate. Pure and simple. It's the breakfast I have before I explore the country or a metropolis. When I meet with foodbloggers, it's pretty darned close to my standard order when at my favourite Toronto brunch spot. It's my favourite breakfast on a lazy Sunday morning at home.

Maple-glazed peppered bacon is another of those non-recipe recipes I love so much. There's nothing to it--bacon, maple syrup, and freshly cracked black pepper--but when combined, the result is smokey, salty, sticky sweet and spikey...just enough to remind you that life is actually... good.


Maple-glazed peppered bacon

Rashers of streaky bacon
Maple syrup
Freshly cracked black pepper

Preheat oven to 160C/325F. Line a baking tray with foil--if you have a cooling rack that fits the tray, set it on top of the lined tray, if not, don't worry about it.

Brush the rashers with maple syrup. Sprinkle with pepper.

Lay the rashers on the rack (or on the foil) and pop into the oven. Bake until done. How long will that be? It depends on a number of things: the bacon's thickness, how much fat there is, the state of your oven. It can take 15 minutes or longer...just keep an eye on them...the time between cooked and charred isn't really that much.

Related Posts:
Food to mend a bruised heart part one: Poutine
Food to mend a bruised heart part two: Choco-fudge cake with peanut butter icing


cheers!
jasmine
I'm a quill for hire!

Butternut squash, bacon and apple soup

Apologies to those who are looking for one of my usual life-based missives. The fact is said life, such as it is, has taken over and I've been left flicking through photographs and recipes to find something to offer. Quite honestly, if I didn't, you'd be left with that not-so-exciting slow cooker pork sandwich recipe I'm not-that-excited about.

Earlier this year when I reviewed Jennifer McLagan's Fat I noted her pumpkin and bacon soup was okay but needed something more. I liked the contrast of a silky pumpkin soup with crispy bacon crumbles, but I just thought the flavours could be a bit more.

After playing a bit I came up with this recipe, based on McLaglan's recipe and others written by Trish Magwood and Molly Katzen. It's relatively quick and more than easy--the most laborious part is blitzing the soup, but really a masher would do if you want something a bit more textured. The result is a combination of sweet, smoky and savoury silkiness that's perfect in cool autumn, winter or even early spring nights.

Enjoy!

Butternut squash, bacon and apple soup
Yield: Approx 2-2.5 L (8-10c)

4-6 rashers bacon, crumbled and fried to a crisp, with its fat reserved
2 onions, chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced
500g (approx 1lb) butternut squash, peeled, cored and cut into chunks
2 tart apples (Granny smith, for example), peeled, cored and cut into chunks
250ml (1c) white wine
1L (4c) vegetable stock (cold, preferably)
250ml-375ml (1-1.5c) apple cider or juice
cayenne pepper (optional)

Cook the onions until translucent in the bacon fat. Add the garlic and stir until its fragrance is released. Pour in the wine and stir until the liquid has evaporated.

Add the bacon, chunked squash and squash and give the pot a good stir. Add the apple juice and enough stock to cover. Let blurble over medium-high heat until the squash and apples are soft.

Remove from heat and mash or blitz with a blender (stick or jug) until it is as smooth as you wish. Return to the heat and add as much hot pepper as you wish. Stir, taste and balance flavours as your palate dictates.



Note: You can decide not to blitz the bacon with the soup and simply sprinkle a few shards onto the soup before serving.




cheers!
jasmine

I'm a quill for hire!

Potatoes and bacon and cheese oh my!: Panhaggerty

My bibliophilia is not a secret.

I love well chosen words, committed to paper, bound in paper or cloth.

I love the scent a recently-printed book releases as I flick through it.

I love the light texture of the paper fibres on my fingertips as turn each page.

Even though my collection numbers in the four-digits (and that's after I lost a few hundred because of a tragic-to-me flood two Christmases ago), like the men I who keep my company, I am rather choosey about the ones I bring home.

I peruse bookshelves, pick up a title and skim its pages. More often than not, it's reshelved. At most I'll spend 30 seconds with a book--like resumés, fundraising asks and online dating profiles, that's all the time an author has to wow me into adding their title to my basket.

The same goes for cookbooks. I read them in the same way as I do novels. Actually, it's more than that. Not only do these writers need to wow me with their food, but they also have to understand the music of language--of food language--before I'll consider adding them to my cookery book collection. They need to weave tales and transport me to their kitchens and times as well as support me on my journey there. Few pass the test.

Which is why when I found myself curled up in one of those wooden armchairs, in one of those ubiquitous big box bookstores, with a cookbook for more than 20 minutes, I knew I had a gem in my hands. When I realised I had a Cheshire Cat-like grin plastered to my face, I knew Colman Andrews' The Country Cooking of Ireland would come home with me.

I spent most of this weekend with the book--reading about Ireland's seafood and cheeses, potatoes and game. I've marked more recipes to try than I have in a very long time. It's not pretentious. It doesn't break down ingredients into molecules, nor does it try an elevate food to an esoteric level. It celebrates food. It celebrates the land and waters. It celebrates the Irish.

What more do I want from a cookery book?

I've marked a number of recipes to try. Some, because the ingredients sound wonderful (filet mignon and mushrooms in whiskey sauce). Others because I've heard of, but never tasted them (colcannon). And still others because their names just make me smile (parapetetic pudding, anyone?).

Panhaggery definitely falls into the last of these categories. And the first. And the second.

I took Colman Andrews' original recipe as a guide, adjusting the amounts of fat and potatoes, adding in some sage and garlic. It's easy satisfying and adaptable. I can see myself making this again, but with sweet potatoes and bleu cheese, or playing with charcuterie.

But really, more importantly, this dish made me smile.

Panhaggerty
adapted from The Country Cooking of Ireland by Colman Andrews

Serves 6-8 as a side dish

1 Tbsp butter, plus more if needed
100g (3.5 oz) streaky bacon, chopped (four rashers)
1 medium onion, slivered into lunettes
1 garlic clove, minced
black pepper
0.25-0.5 tsp dried sage
225-450g (0.5 lb-1lb) Yukon Gold potatoes (or any boiling potato), (see note)
175g (1.75c) grated cheddar cheese

Preheat oven to 180C/375F.

In a 20cm (8") cast iron frypan fry the chopped bacon in the butter until crisp. Remove the bacon pieces to a kitchen toweling-lined bowl.

Pour off the fat, leaving about a tablespoon in the pan (do not discard fat). Add the onions and garlic. Stir until the onions wilt and begin to caramelise. Mix in a couple of pinches of pepper and the sage. Remove from the pan and mix with the crisped bacon.

Remove the pan from the heat and brush the bottom and sides with oil (adding more from the poured-off reserve, if needed).

With one third of the potatoes, shingle the slices over the bottom of the pan, leaving none of the metal exposed. Layer half the onion mixture overtop the onions and then layer a third of the cheese overtop the onions. Sprinkle with pepper.

Layer half the remaining potatoes on top, repeat as above with the rest of the onions and half the cheese and pepper. Top with remaining potatoes. Dribble the remaining fat over the potatoes, dotting with butter, if necessary.

Pop into the oven and bake for 40-50 minutes or until an inserted knife easily pierces each potato layer.

Turn on the broiler. Sprinkle with the last of the cheese and broil for 1-2 minutes or until the cheese has melted thoroughly.

Note: The quantity of potato depends upon how thinly you slice them and how large the potatoes are. Start with slicing half the potatoes (225g/0.5lb) and judge after the first layer if you need to slice any additional potatoes.

cheers!
jasmine

I'm a quill for hire!

My own causality dilemma and bacon-wrapped asparagus

Do I eat asparagus because it's wrapped in crispy bacon or do I eat the bacon, because it coddles roasted asparagus?

Granted it's not a question on Aristotle's scale but it is a question I ask myself every time I reach for a bundle of spears.

I was never really a fan of asparagus. My first exprience was not hopefull--overboiled to waterlogged flacidity, each stringy and bitter and acrid bite worse than the last. The next time was as a creamed soup, a palid greyed green that only hinted at its once vital jade,. The taste was no better than my introduction.

For year my culinary life was spent avoiding asparagus. I was mostly successful--the only times it appeared on my plate was when I went to fundraiser some other gala-like celebratory dinner.

Don't ask me exactly how I was introduced to bacon-wrapped asparagus. In all likelihood it was a fingerfoodish appetiser. Those pancetta-wrapped spindly spears opened my eyes to the vegetable. But it also opened my eyes to the fact that often, disliked foods can be transformed by pairing them with different flavours and/or cooking techniques. It also helped me realise that, as far as asparagus is concerned, girth does matter...and with these, the thinner, the better...for dinner at least.

Yes, I hear some of you...it's not the asparagus you like: it's the bacon.

Well, there's little doubt that bacon (in whatever form) makes many otherwise revolting foods a lot more palatable, and if all it takes is a rasher to help me vary my veggie intake from time to time, that's not really a bad thing, is it? As with many vegetables, roasting asparagus carmelises its natural sugars, which plays well with the strip of streaky, salted, smokey goodness.

Over the years I've prepared this dish many, many times--sometimes as a side dish, sometimes as an appaetiser, sometimes with roasted potatoes as a dinner on its own...but dipped into the squidgey yolk of a poached egg, these roasted, baconed roasted spears are simply delicious.

Bacon-wrapped roasted asparagus is another non-recipe recipe. Simply wrap trimmed spears in the bacon of your choice and roast in an oven until the bacon is cooked to your liking. Depending upon your particular kitchen gods (and your oven's temp), it could take 15 minutes or 25.

Bacon-Wrapped Asparagus
Serves up to 4


16 asparagus spears, washed and snapped of their woody ends
4 rashers of streaky bacon or slices of pancetta
freshly-ground black pepper

Divide the spears into bundles of four, wrapping each one in a rasher.

Place on a foil-lined baking tray and pop into a medium-to-hot oven--350F-400F (170C-200C) for about 15 minutes or until the bacon is cooked.

Dust with freshly-ground pepper before serving.

cheers!
jasmine

I'm a quill for hire!

International Bacon Day: Maple-Dijon pork tournedos

It's a known fact wrapping something in bacon automatically makes that something better.

Just to prove my deep, unwavering belief in this basic truth, I'll wait as you check with your bacon-eating pals.

Really. Scoot. Go run off and see what they say. I'll make myself at home and draw up your psych assessment based on a) the books on your shelves, b) the CDs on your racks, c) the DVDs in the corner and d) the mere fact you had to go ask someone about the bacon thing.

Lalalalala. Oh, that's interesting...I wonder if your Nana knows about that one over there...

Oh good. You've returned. And what did they say? See? What did I tell you?

There's no one thing bacon does that makes things just plain better. It could be the deep smoky-saltiness it adds to sauces, the crunchiness in salads or even the sheer heartily blissfulness pretty much anything fried in bacon fat has. Notice how nicely it plays well with others and makes the opinionatedly boring and inedible deliciously addictive?

As one potential online paramour (dispatched, like the rest of them) once told me, "Well of course your Brussels sprouts are good. You use bacon--bacon makes everything taste better." And no, he wasn't dispatched because he assumed my Brussels sprouts were tasty because of bacon (as opposed to the mere fact I know how to cook Brussels sprouts so they don't become a foul-smelling slimy layer of ooze at the bottom of a pot).

It's pretty darned good on it's own--a back bacon sandwich with plenty of bacon fat-fried onions and extra drippings on a soft white bun deserves its own altar in the Holy Shrine of Baconosophy...but that's just me...

When our dear author of A Dork and His Pork emailed me the other day mentioning his International Bacon Day yummyness, I knew my return from holidays post would be to celebrate this illustrious day.

My contribution to the fête is bacon-wrapped maple-Dijon pork tournedos (try saying that five times fast). Yes, pork-wrapped pork.

Inspired by this Epicurious recipe, because quite frankly I didn't have the time nor the inclination to brine the loin for a minimum of eight hours, this recipe is one of my happy little kitchen experiments.
The only point I feel I need to mention as the porky-marinadey juices cook out of the meat, the sugars from the maple syrup can char on the baking tray, so definitely keep an eye them when in your oven's maw.

As anyone who's swished their rashers in maple syrup knows (please, get your minds out of the gutter), bacon and maple syrup pair nicely together. Dijon mustard and maple syrup are lovely. And garlic...well garlic is just plain good. Bacon good. The result is a nice mix of savoury, sweet and hot. And really, they look impressive--as only something wrapped in bacon can.

Bacon-Wrapped Maple-Dijon Tournedos

1 pork tenderloin, cut into 2cm discs
rashers of bacon, one per disc

Marinade:
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 dspn sage
a couple of pinches of salt
1 tsp black pepper
2 bulging Tbsp Dijon mustard
60ml Maple syrup

Whisk together the marinade ingredients, reserving about threeish tablespoons for later.

Marinate the pork discs with the rest of the mixture for 4-6 hours.

Preheat oven to 180C/350F.

Wrap each piece of meat with one rasher, pinning it with a toothpick to keep the bacon from unfurling.

Brush both sides of the discs with reserved marinade. Placed on greased baking tray. Bake for 30 minutes or until done or until cooked to whatever specifications your local food police tell you is safe.

1 dspn = 2tsp

cheers!
jasmine

Oh. You want your psych assessment? Well...some things are best not known...

What I'm reading: The Heart is an Involuntary Muscle by Monique Proulx

I'm a quill for hire!

Perogying Parliament

You know I couldn't let this opportunity pass me by.

In December our Governor General prorogued Parliament. The playpen opened, our MPs escaped to their respective ridings and the dramas of December were postponed to today. Since then, the Liberals acclaimed a new leader and, quite honestly I'm not sure what's happening with the coalition. If those in power lose the confidence motion we could see another election or maybe the coalition gets its chance. Regardless, it might be an interesting day on The Hill.

As mentioned in a previous post I wasn't the only person who kept hearing "perogying of Parliament" instead of "proroguing Parliament." I'm sure some think wrapping our politicians in dough, boiling before searing them and serving them with sour cream and chopped bacon would be slightly more than a propos. I'm a firm believer that everything is better with bacon, but really...who would do that to a good rasher or two of bacon?

Perogies are one of my Farmers' Market staples--the heady treat of hot bacon and onions atop fried dumplings, served with cold sour cream lures many a person to her stall. Really, it's a little Styrofoam box of hearty heaven.

At home, I root about the kitchen for topping ideas. Spinach with feta, curried mushrooms or sausage with tomatoes--whatever looks interesting will be combined and served with these potato dumpings.

With this iteration I pretty kept my inspiration from the Farmers' Markety offering I adore. Like so many things that come out of my kitchen, this really isn't recipe-able. I treat it as a not-so-random sequence of ingredients flung into my frying pan. The only real tips I have are to be light with the salt as streaky bacon is usually salted and to make the topping first, using the rendered fat to sear the dumplings. It is bacon fat...

Bacon-Mushroom topping
for two servings of perogies

oil
4 rashers of streaky bacon, chopped
half a globe onion, sliced into half lunettes
one clove of garlic, minced
a handful of sliced mushrooms
ground pepper
salt

Crisp the chopped bacon in a preheated, oiled frying pan. Remove the bits and add the onions. Let soften. Add the garlic and stir for about 30 seconds before adding the mushrooms. Add oil as you see fit, to let the mushrooms soften. Salt and pepper as your palate dictates.

cheers!
jasmine

Milk Calendar Mondays: Chicken and Fresh Spinach Tortellini

Dare I say it?

This is the sort of thing the Milk Calendar people should be aiming for when developing and choosing recipes for their calendar.

You read right. Two passing grade recipes in a row. Who'da thunk it?

When you actually read this month's recipe for Chicken and Fresh Spinach Tortellini, you might easily figure out why it works: the dairy component (in this case milk) serves a real purpose. That is the milk is supposed to be there and substituting it for water or stock or wine would probably make the recipe worse.

Milk wasn't used to boil rice. Milk wasn't used as pasta water.

The milk was used for sauce. And not some wretched, bland and pallid imitation of what should have been a bold and flavourful coating. It was a sauce that worked well enough and easily adapted to the cook's preference.

In keeping with the calendar's raison d'être it is an extremely easy recipe. And in keeping with the other recipes, it is designed so as to not offend Canadian's stereotypically timid tastebuds. The "adventurous" additions really aren't that daring: bitter greens (Swiss chard) and bacon (pancetta)--but I'm a half-bacon-fiend who's more than Swiss chard friendly, I went that route.

I made a couple of changes to the recipe--instead of baby spinach, I used grown up spinach (I'm beginning an antipathy for baby veggies--apart from the price, I'm increasingly unconvinced of their flavour) and my dining companion has a citrus allergy, so I didn't use the lemon rind, but to add the teeniest bit of sharpness used a about a quarter tsp of white wine vinegar.

It was a pretty effortless affair and the recipe came together in a rather quick fashion--I think I had dinner on the table within about -45 minutes, from start of prep to dishing out the pasta. To keep it as a one-pot dish, I crisped the bacon in the cooking pot, removed the pieces, but kept the fat in the pot when whisking the flour into Ahe milk. The flavour was pretty good--it would definitely benefit from a bay leaf and the bacon should be manditory--tried it without and it didn't work for me or my friend...and if you aren't making your own stock and like me used an insta-boullion, you may want to keep the bacon fat in the dish because of the lovely all-over depth it added to the dish.


cheers!
jasmine

Mmm...Canada: Bacon, ramp and mushroom swirls

Earlier this month Jennifer and I issued a challenge to the foodblogging (and foodblog reading) world. We want to know what Canada tastes like to you. She's interested in all things sweet and I'm interested in the savoury side of life

In my entry for Jennifer's event, I stated that I think Canadian cuisine (savoury or sweet) developed through adapting family and cultural dishes using a mixture of indigenous and introduced foods. For that post, I made spiced blueberry-maple syrup that combined indigenous ingredients (maple syrup and wild blueberries) along with introduced flavours (cinnamon and black pepper).

For my own event, I'm keeping within that theme and expanding it a teeny bit.

In May a good friend of mine left a box of wild bounty she collected from her properties for me. My, those were some lovely looking ramps.

My idea was quite simple: work with flavours that play well together to bring out their oniony-garlicky best. Essentially what I think of as the basic tenet of cooking (Canadian or otherwise)-- simple homey cooking that's unfettered by fashion that uses what's easily available in a tasty way that's not only soothing but also makes you glad you're home.

In researching the various rampy treats, I came across a a recipe for a savoury ramp strudel. With a few tweaks (aided by a bit of a stromboli fascination), I decided to make savoury, swirly buns, using bacon, cheese and mushrooms. It sounds like a lot of elements, but really, it isn't. Plus, it combines those ingredients in a way I think of as Canadian in substance and spirit:

• Pigs were brought over fairly early in our history,
• Quebec has a great cheesemaking tradition, and we do make our own versions of American and European cheese
• Mushrooms are both harvested wild and cultivated
• Prairie wheat was used to mill my flour
• Herbs and spices from Europe and Asia

Again, this is a recipe that really doesn't need one. Okay...the bun part does. If you don't have a recipe you like, I made mine based on Edna Staebler's Neil's Harbour White Bread (and I used one-third the recipe).

The filling:

• streaky bacon, chopped into bits
• ramps (spring onions, green onions, globe onions or leeks will also do), green and white bits, chopped
• chopped mushrooms
• salt, pepper, thyme
• softened cream cheese (any soft or melty cheese will do)
• one beaten egg
• Parmesan cheese

Make the dough. During the first rise, fry the bacon until crisp and evacuate the bits to a bowl, leaving the fat in the pan. Fry the ramps and the mushrooms in the fat--add some oil if you need to. Season with salt, pepper and thyme. Reintroduce the bacon to pan and give it all a good stir. Remove contents to a bowl and set aside.

After the dough has doubled, role it out to a 24x30 cm (8"x12") rectangle. Smear with cream cheese and spread the rampy-baconny-mushroomy topping over the cheese. Roll the sheet up, so you have a 30-ish cm log. Slice in 12 rolls and place in a baking tin. Brush with beaten egg and sprinkle with Parmesan cheese. Let rise until doubled in size.

Heat oven to 200C/400F and bake for 10-15 minutes or until done.

Check back on Canada Day (01 July 2008) to see Mmm...Canada: The Savoury Edition's round-up)


cheers!
jasmine