Archive for January, 2010

Flavours For The New Year

Spices For A New Season

It’s early still, but I’m thinking of dubbing this the year of the olive (for me, anyway).  Although truth be told, I think the Everyman has unofficially gone ahead and done it for me already.

My hunt for those elusive Cerignolas last week led me to The Spice Trader, but only after I’d already picked up an overpriced jar of Lucques olives (that barely resembled them) while I was out procuring supplies for New Years Eve dinner at the Leslieville Cheese Market; this was prior to Carlo Catallo contacting me with their name.

Once I arrived home and received his reply, I began a) kicking myself for not using my iPhone as nature intended (to check email while away and thus circumventing this problem) and b) wracking my brain for possible sellers of the Cerignola olive that would be open on the day before New Years Eve.  Terroni and The Olive Pit (sister store of The Spice Trader) immediately sprang to mind, both of which auspiciously happened to be in my neighbourhood…

Heading back out into the cold, I wandered down the street to The Spice Trader, half convincing myself that in my sickly state I should just turn around and go back the next morning, but for whatever inane reason I pressed on.  It was a good thing I did, too, because once I got there I found a holiday hours sign pasted to the door advising me that the 30th was the last day they were open until the new year.  Fortuitously, they also happened to be having a 25% off sale.

Of course, once I got inside I couldn’t help browsing  to see what was new and interesting in herbs and spices.  In the basement of The Olive Pit, I found my precious Cerignolas, plus an intriguing bottle of pear vinegar that I decided to bring home.

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What I Learned From Splendido

Cerignola

To commemorate 4 years spent not killing each other, the Everyman and I visited Splendido for our anniversary on Monday night.

It was a blustery night, full of fierce winds and drifting snow, but once we entered the dining room the outside world was forgotten, until the table next to us (a mother and son) began kvetching about all manner of nonsense at a fairly audible level.  We were lucky that they left before we were halfway through dinner, because they certainly made quite the racket and distraction to our romantic intentions.

To keep things interesting, shortly after we arrived Conviction chef Marc Thuet and his wife sat down at the table behind us, ushered in on a cloud of stale cigarette smoke and dour French arrogance.  They seemed to enjoy the food but every time I glanced over, they certainly looked miserable.  Such is the life of a minor celebrity, I guess…

At our table, the lovely meal began with a proffering of bread, grissini and hummus, as well as a finger bowl of olives.  The Everyman enthusiastically consumed the hummus, while I tentatively nibbled an olive.

Now normally I don’t care for olives at all, but I always make a point of trying them when they are presented to me because as I’ve learned many times before, you just never know when your tastes are bound to change.  As it happens, my aversion to olives took a flying leap that evening as I greedily sucked on the briny, meaty flesh.  Even the small black olives that accompanied the massive egg-shaped green ones were appealing to me and before I knew it, the tiny teaser plate of house-cured beauties was gone.

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