Beer, Mustard, and Cheddar Bread

This is probably not the best way to begin a post, but I was recently hit hard with Norovirus, a nasty stomach bug that put me out for a few days. I spent a lot of time in the bathroom and my smartest move on the whole weekend leaving the garbage can at my bedside. I even took a day off work, something I haven't done in two years. In my sleepy, feverish state, I tried to recall what I could have possibly eaten that could have caused such a violent reaction, only when I shared horror stories with my coworker did I realize I must have picked up the virus from work.

As I recovered in bed, lamenting over my sore back, I even thought of summoning up the energy to bake something sweet. That was wishful thinking. Maybe later this week when I'm feeling 110% better. Instead, I have this beautiful bread to share. It's got a load of heat that will linger in your mouth, so be sure to have some water nearby (I love spicy food, so this bread is right up my alley). It's messy to make and the beer isn't pronounced, but it's totally worth the fluffy, cheesy goodness. Now that my appetite has returned, I could go for another slice of this toasted with a slather of butter.

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Leek and Bacon Tart

My mom and I have a deal. Once a week, I make dinner. Usually it’s Sunday when I have the time to ponder over what I want to eat. It usually begins with what my tastebuds are craving, or sometimes I zero-in on a single ingredient and the meal gets planned around that. In this case, I had the sudden urge for leeks. I don’t usually cook with them, but I’m a sucker for their silky texture when they get caramelized.

I always have a mental idea what to make, though it’s usually not concrete till I get to the grocery store and see what options I have. This week it was pretty easy, I knew I wanted something handheld and crispy and a tart seemed like a good choice. As most of my recipe searching goes, I Google recipe ideas and keep clicking till I find something that hinges between simple and interesting. This tart seemed only a natural pairing and the best part, it calls for only a handful of ingredients and is easily customized to whatever you like. 

I cooked down the leeks with bacon, infusing the green and white ribbons with salty meat, layered it over puff pastry, sprinkled it with cheese and added more bacon so that it would crisp and curl in the oven. I’d add fresh thyme if I had any on hand too.  My oh my, was it deliiiicious.

This past weekend, Milos, a good friend of mine from Montreal was visiting and what better way to welcome someone than with a lovely dinner? I made a different version of this tart using caramelized onions, cheddar cheese and cherry tomatoes, serving it with roasted zucchini and mustard salmon. Everything disappeared quickly, a testament to how tasty it was, even though the tomatoes made the tart soggy. Next time I’d roast them first, releasing their juices before adding them to the tart. My mom preferred the leek and bacon version, but continued to tear off just the edges of the tomato tart despite my encouragement to take the whole slice.

Milos was eager to recreate the tomato-based tart with his girlfriend back home, and asked what other ingredients he could use. I haven’t tried it before, but I’d suggest spreading the pastry with pesto, sundried tomato paste, tapenade, or goat cheese, and topping it with sautéed vegetables (as long as they’re not too soggy) would be equally wonderful. If you find someone who dislikes crispy, cheesy, vegetable-y eat-with-your-hands food, let me know and I’ll gladly have their portion.

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Recipe here!

Gougère au Za'atar

These cheese puffs are very dear to me and this version is probably my best attempt at fusion. I often made a batch of these when I was in university, packaging them in a tin box and traveling them halfway across Montreal to a dinner party, where they were always popular and the first thing to disappear from the food table. They quickly became a common appearance at many potlucks I attended. Sometimes, I took a few minutes to write: Cheese Puffs on a small index card in case someone asked me what they were, I minimized the risk of embarrassing my already laughable French. 



I love making these with Gruyère cheese, its strong, nutty flavor lends well in these puffy treats. As recommended by the recipe author, Clotilde of Chocolate and Zucchini (who I've met!), I’ve used cumin to season them with consistently good results. This time however, I used a za’taar to change it up a little. A combination of sumac, salt, dried thyme, and sesame seeds, za’taar is typically used in Middle Eastern food. I've frequently seen it sprinkled on pita bread brushed with olive oil and then warmed in the oven, releasing a mesmerizing  heady and sweet flavours. Added in these gougeres, the spice makes them even more exotic.  

The preparation is easy if you have all your ingredients prepped and ready to go. Basically you simmer the butter and salt together, add the flour, mix vigorously to form the basic dough, then add the eggs one by one, and fold in the grated cheese along with the za’taar. The only challenging part of the recipe is waiting for the dough to chill, to prevent the puffs from spreading too much in the oven. The best part though, is the smell these sneaky devils give off as they turn crispy and golden, kind of like a big ball of Swiss cheese exploded, if you liken explosions to good and tasty things.



Clotilde suggests enjoying these with a glass of wine, though I’m partial to a cold glass of beer. I could eat a plateful of these with a citrusy light ale, something along the lines of a Rickard’s White. I’d also prefer to eat these with my legs propped up on a picnic bench and a mild spring breeze whipping through my hair, though I don’t really see that happening at the moment, since it still feels like winter out there. But I suppose a girl can dream, and soon enough, I will be eating a plateful of these gougères with a cold pint of beer in hopefully a few weeks time (toes and fingers crossed).

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Recipe here!

Lately and The Delicious Project: Mushroom Risotto

As most food-lovers will agree, at meal times, you must have your camera ready. When I dine out, I frequently have my camera sitting in my lap, with the appropriate settings turned on to capture the perfect moment. It's especially awkward however, when the table is small, there's only a smidgen of space between me and the next diner and I have the urgent need to whip out my DSLR. I know they stare at me in bewilderment, I know they're judging, but I do it anyway. It's critical to document these meals ykno? 

So here are the places and things I've been eating. There was a real yum and affordable classic French food at L'Avenue, I went with a food-lover friend, she got the buttermilk fried chicken and I ordered the croque monsieur, all I can say is I can't wait to go back.

 

There's also been a family potluck in which my cousins who also happen to love food (it runs in the family), prepared not one, but two desserts. There were apple blossoms plus apple and cheddar pies. I'm not even a fan of warm fruit but I was smitten over the blossoms which were deliciously comforting (besides, its fun to say apple blossoms over and over again)

 

 

I had an friend visit from California last week and was eager to try Toronto cuisine. I don’t even know what that is. Thankfully, she did some research and found The Black Hoof, I'm still unsure if it's considered Canadian, but this place is definitely worth talking about. I peeked at the menu online and my heart skipped a beat when I saw roasted bone marrow. Ohmygoodness. I was already excited. At promptly 7pm, we surveyed the cocktail selection, settled on sangria (which to be honest, wasn’t very good and disgustingly overpriced) and chose four dishes from the chalkboard menu and waited.

First, came the cheese platter with complimentary jams, chutneys and homemade raisins, followed by the roasted bone marrow (sigh!) served with salsa verde and flakes of sea salt, I’m happy to report that it was exactly what I envisioned: smooth, silky, and unctuous on grilled bread, I could have eaten five plates of it. But I didn’t, we shared it and moved on to the next dish, burrata and asparagus salad, splitting it into three equalish portions (Terroni wins for making an oozier, creamier burrata). The most surprising thing however, was the beef heart with mussels.

I was expecting a slab of bloody meat and a bundle of steaming mussels to arrive at our table, but when the cute waiter set down a neat plate of slivered beef heart, topped with tender mussels (out of their shell) along with a creamy sauce, a scattering of breadcrumbs and frisée tower, I was blown away. This is serious business folks. The most intriguing part wasn’t the tattoos that snaked along our waiter’s arms and legs, but how the heart was seared just on the outside yet retained a decent chewy texture and you couldn't detect any peculiar beefiness, it was mildly meaty and yet still gracious. 

We didn’t have space to stomach another morsel, so we made our way to the Bier Markt, which I think was the smartest idea ever. Overwhelmed with a dizzying selection of beers, we took our time and chose our first round: Lindeman’s apple beer, Muskoka’s Mad Tom India Pale Ale and Rochefort Trappist Achel Ale. I’ve only just started to enjoy beer and now I’m tempted to go back and try more, the ale was complex, rich and fruity, a far cry from the regular beers I've had. It even smelled good. On our second round, I had the Muskoka Mad Tom, as I was immediately drawn to the floral yet bitter flavours. And as if our big dinner wasn’t enough, we ordered the smoked meat poutine which was so darn tasty, a fellow patron walked by, curious to know what we ordered. I highly recommend it.

 

The following day, I went to Ennismore with a good friend to visit another good friend. We’ve been getting together since the beginning of the year for a girl’s night, and this time, we showed up at our friend’s house near Turtle Bay. Despite the sad, gloomy sky hovering above us, that didn’t stop us from by mixing very strong mojitos and dining on the patio with BBQ salmon and creamy potato salad.

  
Afterwards, we took our drinks and sat by the dock. It was quiet and peaceful, something that I rarely take time for. Buzzed and a little lightheaded, we made our way back to the house for some dessert: Eton mess, a beautiful mixture of vanilla yogurt and heavy cream topped with broken up meringue cookies and berry compote.

On the same busy weekend, I rushed off to meet up my fellow food-lovers for our third Delicious Project, this time taste testing mushroom risotto. But first, Lisa bought pastries from La Boheme to kick off our epic taste test, we shared croissants, almond croissants, chocolatines, danishes, and vanilla custard filled croissants. Then came the serious work, photographing risotto ingredients and sampling four types of risotto (life is really hard), Lisa has documented the results here. I’d say my summer is off to a great start. 

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Ridiculously Rich Ricotta

Homemade ricotta is a dream. Its silky and luscious texture slicks down your tongue, leaving nothing but the richness of dairy. This morning, I spread it on toast drizzled with honey and I dare say it was the best breakfast I’ve eaten in a while.

I first tried ricotta in Montreal. This cheese is a rare find in Shanghai, where I spent most of my life growing up, and if it is sold, it’s too expensive. Montreal (sigh) was like the start of a fun musical where the velvet curtain yanks open, revealing colourful spotlights from every direction and the actors bring you to a world far far away from reality. Living there opened my eyes to so many things, including cheese (Montreal is still my Happy Place, though in the winter, there are no blinding spotlights, just freezing winters).


I don’t recall exactly when I first used ricotta, though I’m sure it was in some pasta dish, like lasagna. I also loved that subtle flavour from plain store-bought ricotta and bought it once in a while to spread on slices of baguette topped with figs or jam. It was my little indulgence.

So my mind boggled when I read Smitten Kitchen’s mad easy recipe for homemade ricotta. Anyone can make this. Even a monkey.

And then last night, I made this ridiculously rich ricotta and now my life has changed. I’m not kidding. In fact, I’m warning you that if when you make this, you will never ever want to buy commercial brand ricotta again. You will scoff at the plastic containers idly waiting for their fate in supermarkets. They're nothing--I repeat, nothing compared to homemade ricotta.


All you need to do is boil whole milk and heavy cream, add lemon juice, let it sit and do its curdling magic, then separate it in a colander lined with cheesecloth. Go do some core exercises (like I did, to uh…better prepare me for the good things to come) and after a hour or so, you will have silky cheese in your hands. I stored my cheese in the fridge and in the morning, it thickened to the consistency of cream cheese. The acidity from the lemon juice gives the ricotta a mild tang, the dairy is unbelievably refreshing, almost floral.



The ricotta is amazzzzing on bread. On carrot sticks. On cucumber slices. On raw peppers. I bet it would even be good if eaten off the floor (but it’s not recommended). Depending on what you’re feeling, try it on bread with some olive oil and balsamic vinegar or with slices of fresh peaches, I’m sure that would be divine. Whatever you eat it with, rest assured you will have a cheese so smooth, so creamy, all you can think is: Where have you been all my life?

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Recipe here!

Spaghetti Bolognaise

My relationship with food wasn’t always a happy one. Because my parents have raised me to always eat everything that’s been served to me, I’ve had my fair share of bad experiences.


Years ago, my dad made a simple Cantonese lunch of steamed rice in clay pot with some leftover chicken and slices of lap cheong (dried sausage). I stared at the piece of meat mottled with white fat. It was merely the size of a nickel, but it looked like a ghastly monster clasped between my chopsticks. I shut my eyes and swallowed, willing myself not to chew for fear of prolonging the intolerable salty taste disintegrating in my mouth. I remember running to the bathroom, throwing myself over the sink, desperate to get rid of the horrid sausage bolus before it burned my esophagus.

On another occasion, my parents forced me to eat guilingao or turtle jelly (derived from powdered turtle shell plus a few other Chinese herbs). Despite my parents touting its complexion-enhancing properties, it did not deter me from cringing at the turtles hanging out in the corner of the restaurant, with their freakishly long necks and beady eyes staring back at me. Yuck! I’d rather have 1000 pimples than eat turtle. As my parents slurped away their bowls of this so-called "dessert", my reflection in the black jelly stared back at me, the thought of eating even a smidgen of bitter jello made me burst into tears. I don’t recall what happened afterwards, probably because I wiped it out of my memory.

On happier days, my parents would take me out for pasta, where there was no need to coax me into eating dinner, especially spaghetti bolognaise. I’d stab my heaping pile of pasta with my fork, twirling it around and around, literally stuffing my face with meat sauce, staining my shirt, my mouth and sometimes my nose. It was a nightmare for my mom, but a heaven for me.


Nowadays, there is no food-stabbing, less shirt-staining and more pleasurable meals. Whenever my mom makes pasta, I cook the sauce. I’ve picked up a handy trick from Jamie Oliver in his Jamie's Italy cookbook, it turns out that adding balsamic vinegar to tomato sauce transforms it into a complex, grown-up dish. It’s not cloyingly sweet nor overly acidic, the spaghetti soaks up the deep tomato flavour, having you begging for more.

My mom for instance, likes loves LURRVES spaghetti. She can polish off a big plate of noodles in half the time it takes my dad and me. I don’t know where she got her noodle slurping skills, but I definitely didn’t inherit her genes.


The recipe is easy to follow, do all the prep work before hand and you dinner will be ready in no time. I promise there will be no tears and no power struggles at the dinner table. On a side note, I’m happy to report that I will eat lap cheong without running to the bathroom, though I still have issues with turtle jelly (shivers).

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Potato Gratin

For a while now, I've been craving potatoes. Whether it be potato salad, baked potatoes, rostis, or even potato chips, I want it. My mom (a.k.a. Chef of the House) doesn't cook it much. Sometimes she adds it into Japanese curry and we eat it with rice, or she might cook taro (another root vegetable and similar in texture to potatoes) but adds pork and other flavorings that outshine the humble tuber.


A few weeks ago, I was reading one of my favorite food blogs and I stumbled on mouthwatering picture of potato gratin. It stayed on my mind for a while. I've also recently cracked open On Rue Tatin by Susan Loomis and she incessantly talks about the ease of making potato gratin during her summer months in Normandy, I can only assume it's a sign to roll up my sleeves and make gratin.

So last Sunday became A Day in Potato Heaven. I delegated Minh to peel the potatoes, I sliced them and buttered a glass pan, layering each slice followed by a liberal sprinkling of salt, pepper and swiss cheese. Two more layers were piled on top, milk was poured over the potatoes and then dotted with butter. The dish was baked for about an hour...et voilà! Out came a bubbling pan of golden potatoes crusted with cheese.

The great thing about this dish is the simplicity and flexibility. I didn't have enough cheese nor did I bother measuring exactly a cup of milk, but it worked. I used small yellow potatoes instead of large baking potatoes which probably prolonged the preparation, but it turned out fine. Though the most difficult thing was waiting for the damn thing to cook (we were so hungry and began scavenging the kitchen for something to nibble on).


I was too excited for the gratin that I inhaled through the appetizer of apple and fennel salad and helped myself to a generous serving of potatoes. I moaned with pleasure after each forkful. It was amazing earth shattering. Each satiny layer of potato congealed with nutty cheese sang a harmonious symphony in my mouth. Between bites, I wondered: Why hasn't anyone told me of the unbelievable wonders of potato gratin? Who has been keeping it a secret? Why keep it a secret? Sharing is caring. But I know the only fair question is: Why didn't I just make this sooner?

It was so good we finished the entire pan of potatoes, with me scraping the crusty bits of cheese and eating it guiltily under Minh's disapproving glare (its the best part!). I'd try adding minced garlic, cooked spinach, or even dashes of thyme to spruce up the gratin. And maybe I'd get started on preparing the dish earlier, to avoid the risk of a hypoglycemic episode.

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Recipe here!

Lobster pasta with cheese sauce

My parents came home with a 7lb lobster. It sat quietly in the sink with its beady black eyes and its large claws tied shut. I named it Robert. Don't you think robert is a suitable lobster name?


Its been more than a year since my parents and I have made a meal together. Since Mama C has moved here, she's been the executive chef. I've been demoted to dishwasher--not that I mind. I’m thankful for coming home from work and have dinner ready for me plus lunch for the next day.

My dad is visiting for a month, and his tastes are like mine. We desire for strong, adventurous flavors. Whereas mom prefers mild and less aggressive foods, example: my dad and I once dined over Sichuan food while my mom ate lunch an hour earlier and watched as we gulped down chunks of spicy hot chicken and chili oil noodles.

As much as I enjoy my mom's cooking, I’m especially happy for my dad's presence in the kitchen. He is not afraid to try new ingredient combinations, like how he makes fried rice with canned tuna, or concocting a miso marinade for a beef dish. I like to think I've inherited his cooking style.

So back to Robert. We decided to make a lobster pasta with cheese. There's a popular Hong Kongnese dish that bakes lobster with cheese on top, almost like a lazy and shapless gratin. My mom loves lobster. I skimmed through Epicurious (my trusty resource for all things culinary) for cheese sauces. The most effortless recipe instructed for milk, cheese, butter and egg yolks to be stirred in a double boiler. Clever! Sly! This way you would avoid burning the cheese and allows for a smooth consistency.


I didn't bother following a recipe; I like to use Epicurious for inspiration when it comes to cooking impromptu. I attacked the sauce based on my gut feeling. I poured the ingredients into a bowl set over a pot of simmering water and whisked. I added some parmesan for good measure, and what was once a lumpy mass became a velvety sauce.

Meanwhile, my dad was attacking Robert like a viking. Draining its wastes, plunging Robert into hot water, allowing his murky green shell to turn fire engine red. Then my dad pondered how to break him apart into smaller pieces. We didn't have a hammer, a nutcracker, nor a chopping knife. I suggested laying Red Robert on a cutting board and cracking him with the edge of another cutting board. Alas! It worked. My dad divided him into dozens of pieces, tossed him into a pan with sizzling garlic. He added rice wine and let the stock simmer. Five minutes later, it was ready. I tossed cooked linguine into the pot, added the cheese sauce, and stirred in the lobster and all its juices.

We settled around our new mahogany table. We toasted our wine glasses and dove into the pasta. Each strand was coated with a complex layering of flavors, first the salty sea washed in my mouth, followed by the silky cheddar sauce, echoed by hints of garlic. The lobster was chewy and meat peeled away easily from its shell. I cracked the shell between my teeth and slurped up bits of tender lobster.


It’s been a while since I cooked a satisfying meal that didn’t consist of soup noodles and boiled wontons. It been even longer since my family cooked together. I’ve missed it. Being separated makes every meal taste even better, just like this lobster pasta.

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