Friday, May 25, 2012

A Simple Pleasure if you Dare

This blog posting is coming to you late. To tell you the truth, I'm in a funk. I'm afraid that my Shavuot is not going to be the one I expected. Why, you may ask? It's Dare's fault.

Every year since I was a child, Shavuot meant Zebra cake. My mother would take her grey Melmac plate out of the cupboard. She would begin with chocolate wafer cookies and then alternate them with whipped cream. It was amazing how the plate was the exact right size to use up all the cookies. When the log was done, she would slather the whole thing with more whipped cream and some chocolate sprinkles on top. It would then go into the fridge overnight. Poof! The next day when the beast was cut in a slant, we would have the perfect Zebra cake.

I have enjoyed this cake every year since I was a child. I make it for my children (ok, it's as much for me as it is for them) using Dare's Simple Pleasures Chocolate Wafers. But not this year. I can't find the cookies.

I know they exist. I checked on the website, but I've had no luck. I have been to four or five grocery stores (and in different cities) looking for the cookies. Oh, I can find plain ones, and oatmeal ones. I'm sure they're tasty, but they are not chocolate. And I REFUSE to use those gawdawful chocolate petit beurres. They're too thick and not chocolatey enough. Besides, they are the absolute wrong shape.

I had hoped that this posting would have a happily ever after element to report. I was hoping that I could end this telling you that I found the cookies at the one place I had forgotten about. Alas, this is not to be.

I do have a few hours left. Maybe they'll magically appear..............Guess I'll be stuck eating rich, yummy cheese cake. One must always make sacrifices.
Wishing you all a wonderful Shavuot.

Thursday, May 17, 2012

I need a ...something

The other night, I had made a simple dinner...gazpacho, smoked lake trout, fresh ciabatta buns and a platter of cheeses. One would think that after that, I would have been sated....but I wasn't. I wanted...a something. But what?

I went to my goodies cupboard, flung open the doors and stared at the shelves hoping that something would pop out at me, like magic. What was it that I could possibly want? Some dried fruit maybe? No...that wasn't it. A cookie? Nyaaa, not really. Some chocolate? Okay, why not? I took a piece of a chocolate bar with almonds--dark chocolate and nuts, two healthy alternatives in one treat! It was yummy, but no, I said to myself, licking my lips, that wasn't it, either.

Maybe the 'it' wasn't in the cupboard, I wondered. Maybe 'it' was in the fridge. Let's just say you can read the above paragraph and apply it to the refrigerator, except that there was no chocolate in there.

Sadly, there wasn't anything in the freezer that would help me with this problem. In the end, I made a cup of tea, ate an apple, turned on some country or another's Idol, cracked open a few pistachios (I don't know why anyone would eat pistachios already shelled...the action of opening those little guys releases a heck of a lot of tension) and eventually forgot about my plight, kinda sorta.

I started wondering, is there a particular element that is needed to make a treat the perfect something? Is it better if it's crunchy? Chewy? Cold? Hot? Smooth in texture? Dense (thinking cheese cake here)?What about salty, or does the word chocolate (or caramel, or a combination...) just do the trick?

One of the reasons my cookie jar is devoid of cookies at the moment is because my daughter has informed me that although my Ginger Snaps are yummy, they, so she says, are winter cookies. I must come up with a spring/summer one (suggestions anyone?). Perhaps her 'something' must be seasonal.

I'm not so sure of what elements might make up the perfect snack that could satisfy everyone. I suppose that's why the snack aisle at the grocery store is so enormous.

All I do know is that I'm in the mood for something.......

Friday, May 11, 2012

I'll have the Caesar Salad

When I was growing up, Airplane in the Hangar was a very popular game at the family dinner table. My brother was the designated stunt pilot. His mission was to coerce me, Miss Very Picky Eater, into finishing my meal. I was forever the reluctant diner. I maintained that food was simply a necessary waste of my time. However, in as much as I was completely disinterested in eating, my brother was sufficiently entertaining so as to get me to comply. He would fly that food-filled fork around in dizzying circles before landing it into my mouth. Needless to say, getting me to eat was a chore...except when we went to a restaurant.

It always baffled my mother that I never needed to be coaxed into eating when I was dining out. I would pleasantly chow down my food until there was nothing left on the plate and still have room for dessert. Now, one could understand this behaviour had my mother been a lousy cook; but that was not the case. Still, the one thing she knew for sure was that if she wanted me to eat, all she had to do was to take me out for a meal.

A couple of weeks ago, I was dining at a restaurant with New Hubby. As we were eating, I realized just how happy I was being out to dinner. Yes, of course, the company was fabulous and that most definitely helped to make the evening fantastic, but I needed to figure out where the giddiness was coming from. What makes restaurants so alluring? I decided to poll a few people and see what they thought.

The first answer was completely practical; restaurants mean no cooking, serving, and best of all, no cleaning up afterward. One simply sits down, eats and leaves. This reason makes a lot of sense, but begs the question, do people who have live-in help doing all of the food preparation, therefore erasing the need for any of the above chores, lack the desire to go to a restaurant? I'm not so sure about that one.

For some, going out to eat is about eating different foods than you get at home. I for one tend to order food that I usually don't make in my own kitchen. I find it a luxury to eat gnocchi, Pad Thai or something else that I consider too patchkadik to make.

New culinary experiences are always great reasons to visit a restaurant. Here in Greater Toronto, we are blessed with so many different and diverse cultures. Our city boasts many recent immigrants, so they as first generation Canadians bring their culture's authentic cooking to the city. It's a treat to explore the world through food right at home.

Another reason to eat at a restaurant is to enjoy a private conversation (even with yourself. Don't knock dining alone. I was never good at it, but I think it's an art when done well). One of my favourite quotes from The Great Gatsby explains this perfectly: "And I like large parties. They’re so intimate. At small parties there isn’t any privacy.” The busier the restaurant, the more private the conversation can be.

Although the above are all valid reasons, for me, going to a restaurant is all about the experience itself. The excitement begins with the anticipation of going somewhere different than home. It could be somewhere familiar, where I know what to expect, or perhaps somewhere where a new culinary adventure awaits. Walking in the door of a restaurant is akin to entering a new world, with different people, different sights and unique aromas and tastes.

And then there's my favourite thing: the menu! The menu offers treats of all kinds. I love reading menus, and imagining how the description of a particular food item might translate into what will eventually tingle my taste buds. I love that there's a choice of what to eat, and that I get to choose what I want to eat. I think choosing what you want to eat is pretty decadent, don't you?

Once the meal is ordered, all that's left is the anticipation of the meal itself. I wait, hoping that what I have just ordered will be exactly what I had expected. That gamble, that little bit of the unknown adds to the suspense and eventual surprise as the meal arrives in front of me.

Of course, all of the other reasons mentioned come into play to make restaurant eating a wonderful way to spend some time. And if the meal turns out less than stellar or the service isn't what had been expected or the couple at the next table were acting in a ridiculous manner, it all becomes a topic of conversation which still provides entertainment.

And doesn't everyone likes a bit of entertainment now and then?

Friday, May 4, 2012

This is a crumby blog

The other day, I was parked here at my laptop as usual. Beside me was a plate formerly occupied by my lunch; a very tasty grilled cheese sandwich made with homemade bread http://allrecipes.com/recipe/hearty-multigrain-bread/detail.aspx. and some yummy cheddar cheese. As I was reading my emails and consciously dawdling to avoid more pressing activities, I realized that I had been absentmindedly and methodically picking at the leftover crumbs. I watched myself as I continued behaving somewhat like a squirrel and wondered, what is this strange attraction to crumbs?

The meticulous gathering of those tiny goodies got me to thinking and ultimately realizing that I love a variety of crumbs, both sweet and savory. My daughter and I, for example, fight over the very unhealthy, yet highly delicous crumbs that are left at the bottom of my Southern Fried Chicken pan (it's called fried, but it's baked...see the recipe below). These morsels have been known to be noshed surreptitiously in the kitchen while guests wait patiently to be served their meal in the dining room. Their crunchy, oily yumminess could easily be packaged and sold if I felt like clogging the world's arteries.

The topping on my challah is known in my family as 'Crumba Crumba'. I start with equal handfuls of flour and brown sugar. I then add cinnamon (eyeball it) and then slowly add oil (you can use margerine) until the desired consistency is achieved. Inevitably, some crumbs fall off the challah while cooking. Those end up missing in action before the challah has a chance to cool. And for some reason that I fail to understand, the crumbs that fall off the challah and go AWOL onto the challah board are extremely coveted by the partakers. The victor at the dinner table is the one who grabs the biggest crumb to place on top of his or her slice.

Of course, 'crumb' toppings are the essence of apple (or whatever fruit) 'crumbles'. Don't be fooled by those people who ooh and aah over the fruity sweetness. It's all a ploy to enjoy the crumble. It's the crumbs that make the dessert. The more I think about it, the more I believe that I'm not alone in this world. I think people like crumbs.

I haven't completely figured it all out, but I think eating crumbs is akin to licking a spoon. Somehow, whatever you're eating might be delicious, but finishing it off by licking the spoon makes whatever you're eating extra special. Same goes with crumbs. Just when you think you've finished, there's a teeny tiny treat still left to be enjoyed.

Crumbs. What an enigma...a nuisance to clean, but ever so tasty to eat!

Southern Fried Chicken
Skinless pieces dipped in vegetable oil flavoured with garlic powder and Pereg Barbecue Chicken spice, and then cornflake crumbs. Place on rack to let chicken crunch up and bake at 400 for 1 hour. Turn chicken half way through cooking