Archive for the ‘Restaurants’ Category
When I was younger, comfort food took on many forms.
Being half Trinidadian, if my mom was cooking it often meant some sort of roti and curry preparation to warm our hearts and bellies. After my parents split and my dad took over the cooking for our household, it was a Sunday roast chicken redolent with paprika, garlic, onion and pepper with a side of fluffy stuffing. Once I was considered old enough to cook on my own, my foods of choice were often plain, bland and white, including tall glasses of cold milk, hot buttered rice and large piles of creamy mashed potatoes – clearly my love of starchy white carbs was cultivated at a young age.
These days comfort food in our household usually means homemade macaroni and cheese (prepared with creme fraiche, parmagiano, manchego and chevre instead of nuclear cheese food), baked panko crusted sriracha nuggets or my aunt’s Christmas morning poached chicken salad that the Everyman fell in love with while we were there for the holidays. While the spirit of the dishes remains the same, the ingredients and methods have certainly gone more upmarket to account for our more refined tastes and preferences than what we would have settled for as kids.
The one comfort food genre that I’ve never really dabbled much in was Southern food. I like cornbread, fried chicken, BBQ and all the other stereotypical fare as much as the next person, but I generally don’t make much of it at home. But between this article about Hank’s new Southern dinner menu and the return of more wintry weather recently, I was suddenly craving something heartier and more rib-sticking than normal. Over the years I’ve enjoyed all of the components of the dish I made last night separately, but I never bothered to put them all together as one before. It’s far from authentic Southern or Caribbean fare but dang, it does taste good.
To begin I soaked half a pound of red beans overnight, then simmered them in several inches of water until they were mostly tender. In the meantime, I sautéed several links of a homemade spicy poblano sausage I had in the freezer with some chopped celery, onion, thyme, cumin and cayenne until the whole upper level of our house was nose-tinglingly fragrant. Once the sausage and veggies were well browned, I added a handful of frozen stock cubes and scraped the bottom of the pan with a spoon. At this point I put on water to boil for a pot of brown rice. Draining the beans in a colander, I added them back to their pan with the remaining sausage/veggie/broth mixture as well as a few fresh bay leaves, then covered and simmered again. In the interim I mixed up a cornbread batter and slid it into a preheated blackened frying pan. Once the cornbread was mostly cooked through I grated a large dusting of peppered pecorino on top of it and returned it to the oven to brown. When everything was ready I served the sausage and bean mixture atop a mountain of brown rice with a wedge of crispy cornbread on the side.
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Tags: beans, Cooking, cornbread, Hank's, Recipes, Restaurants, rice, sausage, Scott Vivian
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Today I am leaving you with a picture of a recent vegetarian supper I concocted out of couscous, lentils and roasted root vegetables in a tarragon cream.
The reason for this is that I am currently coming down from a meat hangover after having been to Cowbell twice in the last 36 hours, and needed something lighter and plant-based to inspire me.
We visited for dinner on Saturday night and enjoyed a meal of all of the usual delicious suspects, including the charcuterie platter, a consomme, some red deer and variety pork dishes, and a pot of chocolate rillettes. Chef was kind enough to serve our dinner himself, and at the end of the night he even brought out some wonderful ice wine and wished me a happy birthday. It turns out his birthday is also this week, so I wished him many happy returns.
On Sunday morning we came back nearly 12 hours later to enjoy the mother of all brunches. I ingested what they call the Rusty and Jerome, which is a TV tray laden with just about every item on their brunch menu, including a melange of bacon, toast, waffles with fruit, meatloaf and gravy, eggs and baked beans and sausages. It was quite the impressive feast, and I enjoyed it all the more when they brought it to our table and assumed the Everyman had ordered it. Instead he had a Belgian waffle with the aforementioned fruit, a side of home fries and a few links of chorizo. After behaving like a pair of gluttonous beasts, we left Cowbell once again and continued on with my birthday, albeit in a food-addled stupor.
The third instance of the equation is actually part of my present. The Everyman and I will be participating in one of their private butchery classes (I just have to pick which one) which basically means that I received the gift of 3 Cowbells for my birthday.
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Tags: Cowbell, Mark Cutrara, Restaurants
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Tomorrow is my birthday.
So, it seems only fitting that as I prepare to spend another year in this skin, I should reflect on what it is I’m planning to do in the coming months, particularly in relation to gardening.
With the exception of the various forms of root stock I ordered (potatoes, sunchokes and asparagus) all of my seeds have arrived. I spread them out on the kitchen table last night and simultaneously felt surges of fear and excitement. There’s something rather exhilarating about the potential of this year’s garden with the many unknowns I’m introducing into the equation, but at the same time I can also see the immense amount of work all of the seed packs represent.
Of course, the few months between receiving the seeds and actually planting them into the ground is excruciatingly painful for someone as impatient as I am. There is the distraction of starting the seeds in the basement, but that is just a temporary solution, which is why I invariably end up going back to the seed catalogues that keep showing up at my door and ordering more. In fact, immediately after I placed the orders for all of the seed packets that you see above, another Richter’s magazine (ironically) showed up, attempting to entice me into purchasing again. To date I haven’t caved, but only because I’m not sure whether I realistically have room for all of the things I’ve already bought. Regardless of that concern, I’m sure before May rolls around there will be a few more seed orders arriving at my door.
As an added bonus, the company that sent me the seeds on the very left (Heritage Harvest) included a free package of tomato seeds with my order, and I’m very intrigued by them. They’re called Henderson’s Wins All and apparently this heritage variety grows grotesquely massive 2-3 pound specimens. While some of you may be aware of my fascination with all things tiny and squee, I’m also (surprisingly) amazed by those biggest vegetable ever contests that people hold every harvest season. Between the Sicilian Saucer (another 3 pound beast) and this new Henderson’s I think I’m going to have giantesse all wrapped up this year. I’m expecting it’ll be a very Alice In Wonderland-esque garden with all of the tiny cherry tomatoes being dwarfed by these 2 oversized plants.
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Tags: Books, Cowbell, Gardening, Gayla Trail, Grow Great Grub, Heritage Harvest Seed, Mark Cutrara, Purveyors, Restaurants, Richter's, You Grow Girl
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I grew up in a restaurant family.
While other kids got to have play dates and scheduled outings with their moms and dads, I enjoyed an absentee relationship with mine; 2 of 3 being terminally addicted to their kitchens. In the years that my parents were together I barely saw my mom because she’d leave for work while I was still at pre-school and not return until 2 or 3 in the morning. After my parents separated, my mom and stepdad were too busy chasing their restaurant dreams to worry about things like family all that much, so I lived with my dad and only saw them a couple times a year.
Despite many wonderful things I learned and was inspired by during my time in their restaurants, the one thing that continues to irk me to this day is the overly critical nature that they’ve imbued in me. It was never more evident in them than on the rare occasions when we would go out to eat as a family. Rather than enjoying the brief time we had together, they would categorically pick apart whatever we were eating, regardless of whether it was a cheap trattoria or a fancy French bistro. They’d then move on to analyzing whether they could make a particular dish better, and consequently discuss how to do so.
It drove me nuts. Had I been older it probably would have driven me to drink, but at that young age all I could muster was a withering roll of the eyes. I didn’t see them often, so all I wanted was to make the most of our time, but they never let up. For years I vowed I would never be like them, determined to be happy with whatever was set before me, instead.
But, over the last few years I’ve found their somewhat unsavoury trait rearing its ugly head more and more in my demeanour.
Between working in their kitchens and stints at culinary school I’ve had plenty of time to develop an overly picky palate. In a lot of ways it’s been for the best; I’ve gained a certain level of disdain for junk, fast and pre-packaged food-like substances in favour of slow (or what I like to call real) food. On the flip side, it also makes friends and lovers (unnecessarily) nervous wrecks when feeding me, and coworkers assume I’m some sort of snob because I choose not to eat their hydrogenated oil filled crap or corn syrup laden goodies. Even though I’m relatively quiet about my beliefs and standpoints on food (preferring to internalize rather than proselytize) most people assume I’m some sort of elitist crank or cow hugging moon maiden, anyhow. That I don’t care what anyone thinks of me or my habits seems to stymie them all the more.
I often try to rationalize that I’ve only taken on the best parts of this annoying habit from my parents. Instead of critiquing things for how bad they might be, I strive to only indulge in tastes of ridiculously good food because I think it satisfies your body, soul and cravings more. Of course, that’s a mantra that’s easier said than done…
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Tags: Cowbell, Eigensinn Farm, family, Grant Van Gameren, Jonathan Gushue, Langdon Hall, Mark Cutrara, Michael Stadtlander, ramblings, Restaurants, Splendido, The Black Hoof, Victor Barry
Posted in Nonsense, Restaurants | 1 Comment »
Last weekend I visited Fiesta Farms to do a little shopping for that aforementioned rabbit, among other things.
While I wandered the aisles, one of the other treats I came across was a lovely 2 pound clamshell of those alluring Meyer lemons. Surprising even myself, I resisted the urge to buy up the whole stand on sight.
You see, I’ve been enjoying the taste of Meyer lemons in restaurants for ages, but until now had never seen them at the grocery store. Of course, since I use an organic delivery service I rarely go to a grocery store to begin with, so I should hardly be surprised. I’ve been pondering where to find Meyers (as well as the more ornate Buddha’s hand) for quite some time, so when I spotted these I immediately had to snap some up.
Coincidentally, days later I happened on a fellow Torontonian’s entry in Tigress’ Can Jam who had managed to find Buddha’s hand lemons (Whole Foods apparently carries them – go figure!) in Toronto, so I imagine I will be visiting them soon, too. I’m not entirely certain what I intend to do with a Buddha’s hand lemon yet, but I’ve been rolling a concept similar to limoncello around in my mind along with the possibility of infusing it into some rye. But that is a different tale for another day. Back to those Meyer lemons…
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Tags: Baking, cookies, Epicurious, Fiesta Farms, frosting, lemons, Purveyors, Recipes, Restaurants, The Hoof Cafe, Whole Foods, whoopie pie
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When I was growing up I wasn’t exposed to much in the way of game meat. Aside from the occasional curried goat roti (a nod to my mother’s Caribbean heritage) or a festive Cornish rock hen (often my father’s answer to preparing holiday meals for 2) I didn’t really develop a taste for wilder fare until I was in my early 20’s.
Without a doubt, the one meat I’ve been an exceptionally slow adopter to is rabbit. This is partly because the skinned carcass of a whole rabbit too closely resembles that of the small felines that share my home. I make no bones about eating cute, fuzzy animals if they taste good, but the possibility of questionable provenance has held me back in the past.
It’s taken a few years, but I’ve gradually warmed to the idea of rabbit. It may have started during a meal at Cowbell or perhaps tasting a terrine from The Black Hoof, I’m not quite sure. While we were in Quebec City in the fall I enjoyed shredded rabbit confit linguine at Le Lapin Saute, and for our anniversary I consumed a similar dish at Splendido. I’m still not a fan of rabbit rilettes, but I think I’ve made substantial leaps and bounds (har har!) towards getting over my mental distaste for it.
Recently, I even went so far as to buy a saddle of rabbit at Fiesta Farms, a place I know I can steadfastly trust not to sell me skinned kittens. But for several days the packet of rabbit sat on the bottom shelf of the fridge, taunting me.
At first I’d considered using the Ratio app to make another batch of dough for tagliatelle, but pasta seemed an awful lot of work, and also not very far outside of my past 2 rabbit experiences. I briefly toyed with confit as well, until I realized the duck fat was frozen. (more…)
Tags: Cooking, Cowbell, Fiesta Farms, grainy mustard, Grant Van Gameren, Le Lapin Saute, Mark Cutrara, Michael Ruhlman, New Projects, Purveyors, rabbit, Recipes, Restaurants, Splendido, The Black Hoof, Victor Barry
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There’s been quite the battle being waged for burger supremacy in Toronto lately.
Specifically, it seems like every time I turn around, there’s a new fancy burger joint (complete with a list of premium organic meats and toppings) opening up.
I’ve sampled most of the “gourmet” burgers in town, being an above-average fan of burgers in general, and also a lover of a man who absolutely adores all things bacon cheeseburger-esque.
During the last few weeks I’ve sampled 2 of the newer offerings, so I’ll be ranking them in the context of some of the other boutique burger shops I’ve tried thus far.
Shortly after it opened in early November, the Everyman and I hightailed it to Oh Boy Burger Market to see what all the fuss was about. We’d been anticipating its opening for quite some time; likely ever since I first saw their papered over window during the summer, if memory serves. While the service was a bit spotty, the room completely packed and several items were sold out on our visit (can you blame them when they had only just opened and had already been written up in The Star?) the burgers themselves were tasty and exhibited that lovely, lacy crust that I crave on the outside. I opted to have the Oh Little Boy combo which came with 2 mini burgers, while the Everyman had a regular size. Both were skillfully cooked, and it’s important to note that even with the size differential both were flavourful, juicy, and not the least bit dried out. They also got bonus points for offering a really pungent blue cheese for topping the burgers; on top of the 2 minis it was like tiny bites of heaven.
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Tags: A Hamburger Today, Acme Burger Company, Adam Kuban, Allen's, Apache Burger, Burger Shack, burgers, Craft Burger, Harvey's, Hero Certified Burgers, New York Fries, Oh Boy Burger Market, Original Gangster Burger, Restaurants, Reviews, South Street Burger Co., The Star, W Burger Bar
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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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Tags: Books, Carlo Catallo, Jeffery Alford, Leslieville Cheese Market, Mangoes And Curry Leaves, Naomi Duguid, New Projects, Purveyors, Restaurants, Splendido, Terroni, The Olive Pit, The Spice Trader, Victor Barry
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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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Tags: Carlo Catallo, cerignola, Conviction, David Lee, Marc Thuet, olives, Purveyors, Restaurants, Reviews, Splendido, The Spice Trader, Victor Barry
Posted in Purveyors, Restaurants, Reviews | 3 Comments »
Gratefully lucky to have the last week of the year off, I spent the morning running around town exchanging other peoples’ presents for them.
A gift for the Everyman was exchanged for several others in a more suitable size, while a duplicate Avedon book for his brother in-law was returned until something better arises.
After braving the calmer-than-expected Eaton Centre, I intended to head over to the AGO to wander around a few exhibits and then have lunch at Frank, but the blisteringly cold weather had other plans for me. Losing the feeling in my fingertips, I opted to hop a streetcar and head to The Hoof Cafe for lunch instead.
Once I arrived, I noticed that one of Toronto’s favourite food writers (Corey Mintz) was having lunch in the window, and as much as I might’ve wanted to introduce myself, I’m no groupie, so I kept to myself and hunkered down at the bar.
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Tags: brodo, Corey Mintz, Grant Van Gameren, Porkosity, Restaurants, sabodet, sausage, soup, The Black Hoof, The Hoof Cafe
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A little over a week ago, Larbo over at This Little Piggy posted about his discovery of Fergus Henderson’s trotter gear (a gelatinous porky broth made with (what else?) braised trotters.
Until I read Larbo’s post, I’d never heard of this magical liquid before, but had often contemplated the versatility of a pork-based stock.
There are plenty of recipes out there for beef, chicken, veal and vegetable variations, so why not a similar frenzy for pork, I wondered.
After ruminating on Larbo’s post for a little bit, I started to consider the possible uses for trotter gear.
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Tags: Baking, Books, bread, Fergus Henderson, Grant Van Gameren, How To Cook Everything Vegetarian, Mark Bittman, New Projects, pork, Recipes, Restaurants, The Hoof Cafe, This Little Piggy, trotter gear
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The Everyman and I had this past Friday off, and we both kind of decided that there was nowhere we’d rather be on such a cold, blustery day than The Hoof Cafe.
In fact, we have this coming Friday off too, and after a visit to the AGO, that’s probably where we’ll end up again. Lucky me, I have Fridays off until the end of the year, plus the last week of December off too (due to an abundance of leftover vacation days I had to use up). I’m sure you can imagine what I’ll be doing for lunch on most of those days…
One week in, the staff is still wowing us.
Visiting on a Friday afternoon is a much different experience than visiting for brunch. For one, it’s quieter, (which I like) and there’s more one on one interaction (which is entertaining because they have amazing floor staff). When we arrived there was only one other pair eating, and by the time we left, there were an additional 2 tables chowing down.
Having been only 5 days prior, the menu had not had a chance to change yet, but we didn’t mind. The chef was testing a few specials, so we opted to sample what he had to offer, in addition to the Everyman’s standard ploughman’s lunch. A new addition since our last visit was the giant leg of ham screwed down to the bar, just waiting to be sliced.
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Tags: Grant Van Gameren, Restaurants, The Black Hoof, The Hoof Cafe
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First off, a disclaimer of sorts.
This is not a review. No, no, nothing of the sort. As Sheryl pointed out to me long ago, I am much too familiar and vested in the goings’ on at The Black Hoof to be objective about anything they might be doing on any given day.
No, this is more like a retelling of what I had for brunch yesterday in a ‘na na na na na, look what I had that you didn’t‘ kind of way.
Obnoxious? Perhaps. But who would’ve thought that reverting to 5 year old-like boasting would be so wickedly delicious?
We entered the former Chelsea Room space shortly before noon on Sunday. Tipped off to the opening by Corey Mintz’ Porkosity, after I mentioned it to the Everyman on Saturday night, he suggested that we visit immediately upon waking Sunday morning.
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Tags: Corey Mintz, Grant Van Gameren, Porkosity, Restaurants, The Black Hoof, The Hoof Cafe, Traditions Of Thornloe
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