Yup, it’s about time for another gloriously informative Foodie 13.
Being such a proponent of local food, I thought that perhaps it was time to round up the best Canadian content cookbooks to go with all of that local food. After all, who better to instruct you on how to cook local bounty than those who live in the same climate?
You may notice that the list skews heavily on the non-television personality side of things, and that is completely intentional. With the exception of James Barber (who really was a national treasure) and Elizabeth Baird (who I don’t believe is actively on television anymore) you will not find any “brands” gracing this list. Instead, it contains books that were written by artisans who inspired me, and masters who impressed me with their craft. And in case anyone was wondering, Susur’s book was left off the list because I just don’t have enough hours in the day to cook his kind of food.
1 – Jamie Kennedy’s Seasons by Jamie Kennedy – As magnanimous in print as he is in real life, Seasons is jam-packed with the best of Kennedy’s local, seasonal, artisanal eats, including a recipe for his trademark frites. The accompanying vivid photos make even the humblest of recipes seem absolutely drool-worthy.
2 – The Heaven On Earth Project by Michael Stadtlander – Part arthouse project, part beautiful story, this cookbook chronicles the building and usage of some of Stadtlander’s more esoteric statuary on his Singhampton farm/restaurant property. A very intimate peek into the mind and heart of one of Canada’s greatest culinary geniuses.
3 – Fat by Jennifer McLagan – My favourite of McLagan’s two books (the other being Bones) even though I adore bone marrow, (which is both a bone and a fat) Fat unravels the stigma behind… fat. A book filled with richly descriptive recipes, colorful photos and reasons why high quality fats (in limited quantities) should be a part of everyone’s diet.
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Tags: A Taste Of Canada, Beyond The Great Wall, Bones, Books, Canadian Living, Chives Canadian Bistro, Cinda Chavich, Classic Canadian Cooking, Craig Flinn, Elizabeth Baird, Fat, Fish House, Fresh And Local, Gurth Pretty, Home Baking, Hot Sour Salty Sweet, James Barber, Jamie Kennedy, Jamie Kennedy's Seasons, Jeffery Alford, Jennifer McLagan, Jim White, Judith Finlayson, Karen Barnaby, Lists, Mangoes And Curry Leaves, Michael Stadtlander, Naomi Duguid, One Pot Wonders, Rose Murray, Susur, The Best Of Canada Cookbook, The Definitive Canadian Wine And Cheese Cookbook, The Foodie 13, The Girl Can't Cook, The Guy Can't Cook, The Healthy Slow Cooker, The Heaven On Earth Project, The Passionate Cook, Tim Hortons, Tony Aspler, Tony Roldan
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News media is a funny thing.
On the one hand, it’s been all over the press lately that Toronto’s own curly-mopped locavore (Jamie Kennedy) is having a hard time making ends meet in his faltering, gastronomic kingdom. And while it’s not all doom and gloom, there is definitely an undercurrent of blame being leveled (in a tsk tsk sort of way) at his decision to make his locations so staunchly local, organic and sustainable. Sweeping changes have been made to try and keep the ship afloat, from re-branding the Gardiner Museum spot, to splitting off part of his flagship Jamie Kennedy Wine Bar into Hank’s cafe, plus potentially putting the wine bar on the market. Recent reports state that Kennedy still intends to uphold his local food mantra (good on him for having stick-to-it-ive-ness), but only time will tell if he can pull that off and turn a profit.
On the flipside, Wayne Roberts (manager of the Toronto Food Policy Council, author and friend of Local Food Plus) is telling us that the cost of switching to local food is marginal. I have somewhat of a soft spot for the good old LFP. About this time last year I applied to go work for them (unfortunately it was not meant to be, as the funding for the position was cut). As someone who tries to buy the majority of her food locally, I can see what he means, to a point. If you are willing to put in the time and effort and are a savvy shopper, then yes, it is possible to pull this off with a minimal cost impact. However, if you’re not in a major metro area, or close to a farmer’s market, this goal is not so easy to attain. Local food is “cheap” (such a dirty word, but not meant in a negative connotation here) but only if it’s in season, and even then it’s really just economical. Case in point; ever tried to buy strawberries in January? They’ll cost you a mint. Come June or July though, local farmer’s markets are practically giving them away. Last year I bought a flat of 12 (or more) quarts for jam making, and it didn’t even crack $40. Even produce that is not local to you follows this rule, but buying in bulk also helps. Like fresh figs? I do. But I have a hard time stomaching the $2 per fruit habit, so I buy them by the flat at the St Lawrence market and use the remnants to make a glorious fig compote instead. This year I’ve opted to try growing a couple of figs trees myself, instead.
I find it ironic that at the same time TFPC is trying to convince consumers that an extra $10 is all it costs to go SOLE (sustainable, organic, local, ethical) the king of SOLE is on the brink of bankruptcy. It’s a sign of the times and an indicator that something seriously needs to change in the way we manage our global food system. Because really, it’s a catch 22. JK can’t make a profit because food costs are too high, or indirectly cost more because of the extra time associated with sourcing from numerous small producers. Conversely, local foods will continue to command a premium until more people sign up and turn it into the new economy of scale. And how do you do that? Well, you try to convince people to change their habits by showing them it’s relatively painless and easy… perhaps by writing an article on the subject.
I knew there was a reason I loved the TFPC/LFP. They’re smart cookies.
Until next time…
Tags: Hank's, Jamie Kennedy, Jamie Kennedy At The Gardiner, Jamie Kennedy Wine Bar, Local Food Plus, SOLE, St Lawrence Market, Wayne Roberts
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I stumbled out of bed this morning feeling like I had a meat hangover. How, you might wonder, does one get a meat hangover? Well, let’s just find out, shall we?
It all started with my afternoon at work yesterday. I was drained from staring at my monitor and fixing multiple problems and the boss wasn’t around so my mind started to wander a little bit. The Everyman had started a new job this week, so I thought to myself that it might be nice to go out after work to celebrate that and also just relax a little. For about 5 seconds I thought that if I was going to take him out for dinner I should probably let him choose the restaurant himself. And then I remembered that there was a little place around the corner that I’d been dying to try. And that is how we ended up at The Black Hoof last night.
The Black Hoof is a tiny little hole-in-the-wall restaurant that opened up in our neighbourhood recently. Apparently it’s been open since November, but I only noticed it halfway through December on a streetcar ride home from work one night. The awning out front says charcuterie, and it does not lie. The Black Hoof is a meat-lovers haven. I had read nothing but great things about this microscopic 30 seat spot, so I had high expectations as we passed through the front door curtain. I can tell you right now, they did not disappoint. Several of the reviews I had read mentioned that the place has become quite a chef’s hangout, and based on the type of food this place serves, I can see why.
Since I was trying to establish a celebratory mood, I decided to start the evening off with a glass of Cava. Mucho points to The Hoof for having such a varied wine list by the glass. There was plenty to choose from and a decent beer selection for the Everyman to boot. The menu is written on a chalkboard at the back of the minuscule room (a la Cowbell), and is designed in such a way as to illicit sharing. According to my sources it also changes frequently, which is always a plus. Immediately I honed in on 3 plates that I had to try. Waiting for our waitress to pop by, I silently wondered whether that was a tad too gluttonous. Our waitress confirmed that a normal order for a party of two would be one of the charcuterie boards or cheese plates as an appetizer, and then 3 of the selections to share in place of the mains. Being such champion eaters, the Everyman and I ended up with 5 plates between us and opted to skip the charcuterie altogether. I even managed to knock a few things off my list of things to try in 2009 in the process too.
The plates started coming out of the kitchen as they were ready, so to begin I had a cabbage soup with marrow bone and toasts placed before me, and the Everyman a few Merguez sausages with a tomatillo salsa and queso fresco. Before you start squinching up your nose about cabbage soup, hear this. I hate cabbage and so does the Everyman, but we both ate the soup and loved it. It was pureed and tasted slightly creamed, and had a hearty, salty, satisfying quality to it. As I ate it I began formulating a recipe in my head, determined to attempt to recreate it at a later date. The marrow (which was on my list) was divine; I can’t believe that I waited this long to try such a delicacy. It was an incredibly primal taste, just right on the tiny baguette toasts and accented only by the the sea salt that was available on the side to add at your own discretion. So good even that I seriously contemplated ordering another round of the soup with marrow bone as soon as I finished licking the spoon clean. The Merguez with salsa and queso was no slouch either, being perfectly balanced and just the right portion for sharing. The Everyman must’ve loved it too because I had only two small bites of it before it was gone. As I scooped the last mound of marrow from the bone and offered it to the Everyman to eat, he had this look of where have you been all my life aglow on his face. Clearly marrow agrees with him too.
Next, the kitchen sent out duck confit wrapped in a round puff of pastry. It sat on the table taunting the Everyman for several moments while I finished the last of my soup, and I could see that it was physically difficult for him to restrain himself from trying it before me. Finally I put him out of his misery and cut myself a taste so that he could dig in. The confit was rich and intensely flavorful, and tasted like it was mixed with a slight touch of cherry jam. The pastry was buttery, flaky, light and wonderful, and was an amazing counterpoint to the luscious threads of confit held inside. After we devoured it the Everyman joked to me that he should just tell the kitchen to keep bringing more of those out to our table. I heartily agreed.
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Tags: Cowbell, Eigensinn Farm, Gilead Cafe, Grant Van Gameren, Jamie Kennedy, Mark Cutrara, Michael Stadtlander, Restaurants, Reviews, The Black Hoof
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Yesterday was a mildly disappointing day…
You see, earlier in the week the Everyman and I decided that we were going to visit Pic Nic Wine Bar in Leslieville. So like any properly prepared foodie, I googled Pic Nic first, and came upon a review by Toronto’s Martini Boys. A review which quite prominently posted the restaurant’s hours, as well as mentioning a weekend brunch menu. The idea of a delicious mixed platter was enough for us, so off we went in search of vittles.
Flash forward to Leslieville and major annoyance. We arrived at 1pm to find the restaurant closed, even though the hours posted in the review said it would be open at 10am. I know, I know. We should’ve called first. But you kind of assume that when someone reviews a restaurant they have done at least a minimal amount of fact-checking first. And so there was no Pic Nic to be had, much to our shared distress. We were already in Leslieville, so we started looking around for other places we’d heard about that were supposed to be good. Being both absolutely famished by this time, we knew we had to find someplace fast. I already had something in mind, but wasn’t averse to seeing if there wasn’t something better first. The Citizen? Not after the lackluster meal we’d had at The Rosebud. Burger Shoppe? Not for brunch. Dangerous Dan’s? Same.
So we walked along a bit to the place that was in the back of my mind; Gilead Cafe. Jamie Kennedy’s latest foray into improving local food awareness. The staff are quite friendly and the space is nice and bright with lots of natural light and floor length windows. The walls are flanked by what now seems to be Jamie’s signature rows of preserved fruits and vegetables. But how is the food, you say?
Well, the cafe is almost more like a cafeteria. You place your order as you walk in and then go and find a table. Once your order is ready someone calls you to the front counter to collect your food. Which I suppose is okay if you’re trying to be casual, but if you want to charge me almost $10 for a poutine, I think you should at least serve it to me. That being said, I’m sure you can surmise that I sampled a Jamie Kennedy poutine for lunch. It had the requisite famous frites bathed in a jus-like gravy with shreds of braised beef and aged Quebec raw milk cheese. It tasted fine; I don’t really think we’re reinventing the wheel here. The Everyman chose a pulled pork sandwich with tatsoi and aged cheese which was nicely flavored but very messy. But, from my limited experiences with pulled pork sandwiches I understand that is the way you want them to be. For dessert we both inhaled our pain au chocolats. Again, nothing groundbreaking about them, but definitely satisfying.
Before we left I stopped at the front counter to purchase a few odds and ends to take home with me for sampling. In the deli case I noticed that Jamie Kennedy is now bottling his own mineral and sparkling water. I vaguely remember reading something about this a few months ago (in Toronto Life perhaps?) We took home some red fife sourdough (awesome, but anything made with red fife wheat is delicious), house-cured country ham (the Everyman loved this; smoky and amazing), two shards of Quebec aged cheese (can’t even pronounce the names but one is cheddar-like and the other more reminiscent of mozzarella), rilettes (too stringy), chicken liver pate (sumptuous!), a massive lemon tart (haven’t even gotten around to it yet), and a copy of his book (didn’t even know he’d published one ’til yesterday). We assembled the various wares into a country plate for dinner last night, and were mostly satisfied with the outcome. Let’s just say it was our attempt at the Pic Nic we so sorely missed.
It really pains me to say anything negative about Jamie Kennedy, because I have so often felt that we share the same principles around food, but I’m starting to feel like he’s become this local food corporation. Don’t get me wrong, the man’s gotta eat and provide for himself and his family, but it’s almost becoming a bit too much. I think seeing the bottled water with his name on it put me a bit over the edge. That and the fact that the food overall wasn’t really anything fantastic; I mean the man’s been in the business for 20+ years at least and he’s most famous for his frites! Which incidentally have a great deal to do with the reasoning behind me never visiting his Wine Bar. I used to work in the area and would occasionally see things going on that made me uncomfortable with the prospect of dining there. I guess I just don’t really care for this whole idea of chef-as-brand. I mean, it’s fine to put out cookbooks where you can share your ideas and creativity with others (for a profit), but once you start getting into putting your name on actual things that’s where I tend to draw the line. Take for example another famous Jamie, of the Oliver variety. I loved him and his whole philosophy and energy up until the point he started hawking flavor shakers and T-Fal pans. Why is it no longer enough to let the food do the talking for you? Why must everyone now aspire to making over the world’s eaters in their image? I don’t know… do you?
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Tags: Burger Shoppe, Dangerous Dan's, Gilead Cafe, Jamie Kennedy, Pic Nic Wine Bar, rantings, Restaurants, Reviews, Rodney Bowers, The Citizen, The Rosebud
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