Fishy Friday: Pissaladiere

Yes, yes...normally at this time of year I mention Tim Hortons' annual caffeine-fest*, filled with hopes that I'd actually win something...anything. Well...the competition is about two weeks old and I've not won anything...trust me, Timmys are what are keeping me going right now (that and the way-buzzy cold meds I'm on), so I thought I'd won at least twice by now. Meh.

No. I shall not at length about how unfair this marketing ploy is, commenting about how one can get much better coffee at a much lower price by, um, making it oneself, or even flesh out my theory as to where all the winning cups are going. Instead, I'll drone on about a self-imposed dietary tweak.

Yes: it's Lent. Yes: I'm doing fish on Fridays. No, I don't expect any of you to do this.

Even though I enjoy most seafood, I don't eat nearly as much of it as I'd like. Cost is a bit of an issue, probably because I'm not adjacent to an ocean and this essay, hosted by the University of Guelph's website, summarises the state of the Great Lakes fisheries.

I am trying to find cost effective ways of introducing fishy goodness into my regular diet...with a minimal reliance on reconstituted fish flakes covered in unidentifiable gloop. My Dear Little Cardamummy made fish and shrimp wet curries as well as dry spicerubbed fish fries. I'm not saying I'll be able to replicate those, but I'll be looking for non ketchup-dunking fare...and yes, I did stock up on a couple of sales at the mediumscarymegamart, so I've a kilo or two of shrimp in my freezer along with some catfish fillets.

So, what's my Fishy Friday meal this week? Pissaladière.

As its name suggests, it's a rather pizza-like dish found in southern France. Unlike most pizzas found here in North America, it's a white pizza, devoid of a tomatoey sauce. The toppings are few, but combined combined have a lovely balance: sweet caramelised onions, slightly bitter black olives and salty anchovies.

Yes. I said anchovies. No. Don't run away. I know many people seem to be phobic of these wee little fishies...why, I'm not entirely sure. I think they suffer from bad PR--just the mere mention of anchovies will leave CERTAIN people recoiling with disgust. I have been known to add them to dishes and feed them to CERTAIN people...who didn't complain...when they didn't know. Heck one person is now a convert (I think...I'm not forcing the issue).

I happen to like them and will use them for a bit of oomphy depth of flavour in pasta sauces. As a semi-regular pizza maker of semi-regular pizzas, I'll add them to a pie with sausage and hot peppers.

Pissaladière is at once effortless and effortful.

Sure, you can buy a a disc of dough and a jar of caramelised onions and pop the entire thing into an oven and have one in hand within a half-hour. But really...the therapy derrived in the simplest of actions is worth the effort: kneading dough and stirring ever-softening onions proffer greater pyschological benefits than a 55 minute session on a far to shiny leather couch.

My version probably wouldn't count as a "true" version, I admit, as instead of using black olives, I grabbed my jar of tapenade. And I used a whole wheat crust (not sure if the traditional dish uses "regular" flour or not). Like many things in life, it's the spirit that counts...right?

Pissaladière

For the dough
100ml hand-hot water mixed with 0.5 tsp sugar
0.5 Tbsp traditional yeast
175g bread flour
50g whole wheat flour
1tsp salt
1 egg
olive oil

Toppings
1-2 Tbsp black olive tapenade
4-6 Tbsp caramelised onions
anchovy fillets

For the dough
Bloom the yeast in the sugrar water for 15 minutes, or until a frothy head appears. Mix into flours and salt. Add the egg and knead, adding more water or flour as needed. When the dough is nice and soft (like the proverbial baby's tushie), transfer the dough to an oiled bowl, cover with a damp tea towel and let sit an a warm, draft-free space until doubled in size--a couple of hours or so. After rising, punch it down and knead for about five or ten minutes and let rest for a couple of minutes

Preheat the oven to 190C/375F.

Oil a pizza or cookie tray. Stretch out the dough and let rest for a couple of minutes. Slather the top with tapenade and cover with onions. Form Xs with two anchovy fillets, one per slice. Drizzle olive oil over top and bake for about 20-30 minutes, or until done.

* Yes: I know you can drink decaf...but who really wants to?

cheers!
jasmine

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

Savour the Season: Globe Onions

A few weeks ago I decided to start a series centring on seasonal eating. Once a month I'll highlight something that's in season, primarily based on Foodland Ontario's Seasonal Availability Guides.

Savour the Season: February--Globe Onions.
Globe onions (or storage onions), those orbs enveloped in brown, papery skin, are as basic to cooking as salt, pepper, garlic and lemons. From casseroles to tarts and soups to bhaji to deep-fat-fried onion rings, these alliums imbue a sweet and savoury base from which to build up flavour and body. Onions can be eaten fresh, dried or cooked, and they can be used as an ingredient or a seasoning.

History
Onions (from ramps to globes) have been cultivated for more than 5000 years, originating from the Asian-Middle Eastern territories. Ancient Egyptians, Greeks and Romans ate them raw, but each culture thought considered them differently. These bulbs were both revered and tabooed by ancient Egyptians; Greeks thought onions harboured therapeutic values, and Romans (Apicus in particular) thought they were inconsequential, and thought of them as secondary flavourings in mixed dishes and dressings.

They were European kitchen staple by the Mediaeval Ages; Columbus introduced onions to the New World on his second voyage.

Etymology
“Onion,” has Latin roots, and is either a variant of unio (“single white pearl”), a white bulb or comes from the Latin term for one, oneness and unity.

Varieties
Onions are part of the lily family and related to chives, garlic, leeks and shallots. There are more than 500 onion species; approximately 20 are important edible varieties. They can range in size from a several grams to more than half a kilogram.

Experiencing
Onions are made of fleshy pallid leaves or scales that store energy and covered by several layers of papery skin. Its colour comes from Anthoxanthin, the same compound responsible for potatoes’ and cauliflowers’ creamy-yellowness.

The soft but pungent flavour is central to the onion’s appeal. We pick up on flavours that can range from appley, to bitter, to spicy and sharp and sulphury scents when we bite into a raw globe. Cooking moderates these qualities, and can transform these qualities into sweetness, with aromatic properties ideal for stocks and soups.

Complex sulphur compounds give onions their characteristic bite. Cell walls store sulphur drawn up from the soil. When the vegetable is cut, air is allowed in, and creates a pungent scent and eye irritant. Sulphur escapes the vegetable, and attacks nerve endings on the eyes and nose. The chemical breaks down into hydrogen sulphide, sulphur dioxide and sulphuric acid; heat inactivates these defence enzymes.

Keeping
Storage onions are grown in summer and harvested in autumn. Look for firm bulbs with thick skins. Pass on those with green or mouldy blemishes, have an odour or sprouts. Onions should be store in a cool, dry place—hard and dry onions can be kept for months.

Ways to stop crying
No guarantees, but here are some ideas that may help:
- Contacts or swimming goggles
- Peel under cold running water
- Chill the onion before cutting it
- Soak the onion in warm water and vinegar
- Rub hands in acidulated water to remove smell
- Reduce pungency by blanching them in boiling water
- Keep root end on when cutting
- Hold a piece of bread in your mouth when cutting

cheers!
jasmine

tags: Onions

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