I love pie.

Woooooweee! That was a long break! Sorry for the wait. It's been a rough year; job, food and otherwise. I'll spare you the details. BECAUSE I WANT TO TALK ABOUT PIE!!!!

I love pie. My first introduction to the culinary arts involved pie; my Gramz, widowed at a young age with five kids in her care, had been a pie cook in a Northern Ontario diner. Later in life, when she would visit us, she'd pull a chair up to the kitchen counter and make me hop on to watch as she rolled out the crust and poured in the fillings, apparently still happy to make those things... Up until her passing recently, she continued to patiently coach me in the finicky art of making the perfect crust. I sucked, but she persisted, bless her tenacious, lumberjack-feeding heart. That's why pie has always held a dear, dear spot in my heart; it reminds me of family, of laughs (that one time Gramz made me sniff cayenne when she thought it was cinnamon - at least I think she thought it was cinnamon.... hey! Lord, that burned...) and of delicious, reassuring mouthfuls of fruity goodness. I love pie.

But here's the rub. I still suck at piecrust. Every time I try to make it, I can feel ghosty-Gramz standing next to me, shaking her head, telling me not to press so hard with the rolling pin, or not to handle the crust so much because it'll get tough (which, in her Northern Québec French-flavoured English sounded more like "tohffe!"). So I gave up pies for a while. Not only for that reason, but also because Mr. Markie-Pants had told me, in the beginning of our romance, that he didn't care much for pies. GASP! H-h-h-ow was that possible?!? Of course, he'd also told me he didn't like risotto, salmon and  tofu, all of which now he happily, and dare I say, greedily, eats. So, in the end, this pie-hiatus (pieatus?) was nothing if not self-inflicted. The shame.

So this afternoon, whilst patrolling the aisles at the supermarket with Marc, I felt that familiar rumbling that only fresh blueberries and lard can quiet. With Marc's full support (and promise of eating at least one slice) I accepted my failure as a crust-maker, bought a package of two pre-made crusts and got a bag of frozen wild blueberries. I pulled a recipe from The Joy of Cooking and made a pie... AND IT WAS WONDERFUL! The crust, of course, didn't have the fairy-dusting of loving je-ne-sais-quoi that only 95-year-old leathery hands can impart, but darn it, it was pretty close! I'm so happy. Pie. I love pie.  And guess what? Marc had TWO slices.

À la prochaine!

G.

Make them think you're a domestic goddess (when you're actually just a really clever baker)

So here's the story. I've been fantasizing about eating a croquembouche for years - YEARS I tell you! Ever since I saw one in a French bande dessinée as a kid... Even though it was merely a sketch in comic book inks, I could taste it in my mind's eye (or is it my mind's tongue?) : cream puff over delicious cream puff, towering to dizzying heights, shielded in a delicate armour of golden glistening caramel... It was magnificent.

I don't know why it took me nearly twenty-five years to try one. Maybe it was partly due to the fact that I  thought it so wondrous that it couldn't possibly exist in real life; or maybe that it was such a massive undertaking that it could only be made for glamorous gatherings of people much worthier than me.

So imagine my astonishment one day when Marc told me how he'd had the near-religious experience of eating croquembouche at his sister's wedding. "What!?!? WHAT?!?!?" I exclaimed. Mere mortals could eat this? Then, more recently, I was stunned to learn that my favourite local bakery could make one to order. WHAT?!?! That was it. The time had come for me to stop wishing and start acting. I made croquembouche MYSELF for my sister and aunt's double-birthday party. And it was won-der-ful.

Now, before you tell me that this endeavour grossly contravenes my "lazy cook" convictions, please know that it does not. This is the best impress-the-pants-off-your-dinner-guests-without-using-any-sort-of-specialized-skills dessert ever. It just takes a little planning, some elbow grease for stirring, and a really big wooden spoon for smacking a certain person's fingers when he tries to snatch a cream puff away for yet another round of self-assigned "quality control".

Laura Calder's recipe for croquembouche is perfect just the way it is, so I recommend it to anyone who is willing to jump into the world of cream puff skyscraper construction. And even if it ends up looking more like Montreal's Olympic Stadium than the Eiffel Tower, who cares! People will still bow to you as a master baker and domestic god(dess) extraordinaire. And the best thing is, it's nothing but smoke and mirrors my friends. Oh, and butter. And sugar. And cream. Mmmmmmm.

I'm not going to go through the whole recipe with you as Laura has already kindly taken care of that. I will, however, give you a few pointers from lessons learned.

1. THIS IS THE MOST IMPORTANT POINTER OF ALL. Caramel is HOT. Blisteringly, searingly, painfully hot. And it conveniently sticks to human flesh, so it keeps burning you until you tear it off in a panic. This warning is not meant to frighten you, only to make you acutely aware that small children or inattentive cooks should not be near this stuff. The only way I could make this any clearer is by saying the following: you know how water boils at 100 degrees Celcius? That's burning hot, right? You're taking the caramel to just over 170 degrees Celcius. Got it? Good. Now go have fun. 

2. Time management is key. Think of this dessert as a succession of three small projects: the pastry cream, the puffs, and the caramel / assembly. To make it feel less laborious, I'd recommend making the pastry cream the night before. And allow at least 30 minutes for the caramel to achieve the right doneness; that stuff's sloooooooow to turn.

3. I didn't use the traditional foil-covered cone as a building base for my croquembouche. I decided to go ahead and just pile those cream puffs right up (hence the squat look of the finished product as you will see a little further down).  I just couldn't be bothered to hunt around Gatineau to find a foam cone, buy it, and then be stuck finding a place to store it in my kitchen once the party was over. In a moment of regret, I did try to make my own by stapling some parchment paper to an extra-large Roll up the Rim Tim Horton's cup, but that was just dumb. Even the dog thought so. I did win a coffee though. 

4. Filling the puffs was fun and easy. I just stabbed each one with the tip of my piping bag and kept slowly squeezing until the puff felt heavy in my hand, about the weight of a small clementine. That's when Marc-the-pastry-vulture started circling... Can't blame him, really. It was like finally being on the open side of the bakery's windowed counter, with unrestricted access! Gaaaaah! 

5. Laura doesn't mention this, but it's important that once your caramel has reached the right temperature, you take it off the heat as it will continue to darken. You can choose to work relatively quickly before it gets too dark (as I did), or place the bottom of the pan in a bit of ice water while you work, to cool things off a bit. And here's a clean-up trick: keep the caramel in the pan and stick to metal implements. Once everything is done, fill up the pan with water, with any remaining caramel still in it, and set it to boil. The caramel will slowly dissolve away and you'll have a perfectly clean pan in the end. Do the same with any caramel encrusted utensils you might have.

6. I watched a whole bunch of YouTube videos on how to assemble croquembouche to find decorating tips. This one showed a nifty way to make that pretty veil effect over the finished mountain of cream puffs (just click it forward to 4:50 for that specific part): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hcsTdDtk1gU. It took me a while to figure out that the caramel has to be slightly cool before it start producing threads; so just dip in your forks, keep them stuck together for a bit, and then start pulling them apart. I also may try this whole adventure again with the chocolate version presented in this other video - if you're nervous about the caramel, this could be an option for you too: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZrIanD5pi9E. 

7. Finally, I'm very proud to say I made a really neat topper for the croquembouche by simply swirling some remaining caramel on a clean, buttered sheet pan. Once it was partially set but still malleable (I kept checking by trying to lift a little bit of it off the pan), I picked it up with my hands and gently compressed it to make a tulip shape, then I held it until it was completely set. Poof. Instant-glamour.

Sorry - it got too hectic after this first shot.
I forgot to take another one!

So there we go. The croquembouche. It may sound scary, but it's not. I just takes a bit of perseverance,  and some self control once those cream puffs are filled. The benefits, I assure you, will exceed your expectations. So will the storage capacity of your stomach once you start snarfing these things down. Good luck!

My ample larder, part 1

Sorry for my tardiness in posting. I have no excuse. I'm a bad, bad blogger. Please accept the following post as a token of my affection to you, my sweet, sweet and gentle reader. 

The larder... From the old French lardier. It means a place where you keep your lard. Or something along those lines... My grandmother used to say larder. It's the only reason I use the word. Surely pantry or store cupboard would be more poetic, but I like larder. Laugh if you will. Plenty have already. Larder.

So here's the deal. I hate getting caught defenceless. If someone arrives at our house on short notice, whether it be for dinner or an afternoon visit, I need my artillery to blow their taste buds away (or at least distract them). If I were to have nothing to serve them, not even a measly Kalamata, I'd die of shame. I don't know why this is so important - it just is. I think it has to do with the fact that when I'm happy, I eat. And when I have visitors, I'm happy. So if I don't serve food, it's like telling people I'm not happy to see them... Ooo. That's heavy. I think I just learned something about myself just now. Cool.

Anyhoo, back to the larder. The larder is a wonderful, magical place - a cave of wonders if you will - where certain types of foodstuffs are at the ready at all times to insure readiness to feed and entertain. When paired with the staples that are always in my fridge and freezer, these food items make me feel like the MacGyver of the kitchen - only with better hair. So the following post is an ode to my larder, if you will. An hommage to the foods that stand on guard for me (and the people I feed).

Arrgh! I forgot about the bendy shelves! Please ignore that aesthetically disturbing
feature of my larder. Also, please ignore the Skippy peanut butter. I'm still working on
converting Marc to the sugar-free non-crap kind. It ain't easy.

First, the protein. It's so easy to have non-perishable protein on hand. Here's a run through of the main ones I usually have lying around:

• DuPuy lentils: they're just plain fabulous. They're meaty and fragrant and have a beautiful mouthfeel. They remain firm when they're cooked, so they're actually still appealing when they come out of the pot. You can serve them cool tossed with fresh herbs, a green stringy thing like beans or asparagus, tomatoes, baby spinach and a vinaigrette. Or you can serve them hot with some sautéed onions and Marc's favourite "seasoning", bacon (you only need three or four slices, cooked and crumbled), with maybe a side salad and some baguette. Smoked pork and lentils. It's like the perfect marriage of French Canadian and European French. Can you hear the angels signing?
• Quinoa: good as a side dish for fish from the freezer or, again, in a salad, like my roasted zucchini and quinoa salad. For a fast and heathy fish recipe, check out Martha Stewart's technique for cooking it en papillote. Normally, I just stick the fish and whatever random veggies I have lying around the fridge (thinly sliced so they cook quickly) in the little cooking pocket. Try thinly sliced potatoes, onion, chives, red pepper, grated carrot and baby spinach. Don't forget the salt and pepper. 
• Canned beans: most beans can be thrown into salads (with or without lettuce) or made into patties or stews, while chickpeas can also be roasted for snacks, or be transformed into delicious, silky hummos. And you already know about the virtues of chickpea flour!
• Canned fish: Jamie Oliver has a fantastic recipe for pasta with tuna and tomato sauce. It's from his Cook with Jamie book. I highly recommend trying it. Canned tuna can also easily be added into salads, such as my no-brainer macaroni salad (one of Marc's all-time favourites... Really?!?):  Mix together cooked and cooled macaroni, a can of tuna, finely chopped red onion, fresh chopped or dried mint for seasoning, tomato, celery, a generous glug of olive oil and juice of a lemon, salt and pepper.
• Nuts: I keep most of these in the fridge, but I'm mentioning them here. Usually, I have a Costco bag of almonds and also another type of nut which I like to alternate between walnuts, pecans and pine nuts. I use nuts in salads and in pilafs, but they're also very helpful when I'm baking and, especially, when I make an out-of-the-blue pesto. Like in the early summer when my beet greens were still young and fresh: using my food processor, I whizzed around beet greens, parmesan, lemon zest and juice, garlic and some almonds. Throw some hot pasta on that, honey. Woo. Nuts are also lovely when entertaining. Toast a few pecans, coat them with honey and other tastiness, serve with cocktails and you have friends for life. Same goes for your run-of-the-mill dry roasted peanuts. Pop the top, serve with pickles, olives and some pretzels and you have a party!

Second, the carbs. Mmmmm. Carbs. 

• Couscous: good for (duh) salads, side dishes (add some chopped dried apricots, some chopped mint and a few toasted pine nuts to the cooked couscous) or an awesome vehicle for leftover tomato sauce (again, as a side dish, perhaps?)
• Bulghour: yadda yadda salads, yadda yadda side dish, yadda yadda to thicken vegetarian stews (this is Sparklypear's discovery - brilliant!) 
• Pasta: no need to elaborate here. Watch the calorie factor, if that's a concern.
• Rice: all types. Brown, Basmati, Arborio. For making salads, pilafs, stir fries and calorie-bomb / emotionally therapeutic risotto. 
• Vermicelli and asian noodles: for spring rolls, pho (pronounced fuh, I've been told) and stir-fries.
• Panko breadcrumbs: do I really need to explain the panko? Do I need to explain the need for oxygen?
• Triscuit. they're like bread that doesn't go bad. You put stuff on 'em. And they're delicious. And they're only three ingredients. Wheat, oil and salt. No crap. Beautiful.

And finally, the rest.

• Vinegars: I find that with red wine vinegar, white wine vinegar, cider vinegar and balsamic, I have all the bases covered well enough. With any of these, a little garlic, a little dijon, a splash of fresh lemon juice and some olive oil, you're in vinaigrette heaven. Anybody who's isn't satisfied with that is just a whiner.
• Oils: organic olive and canola are in the larder. Toasted hazelnut, toasted walnut and sesame are in the fridge (nut oils spoil quickly - never store them at room temperature).
• (Addendum) Coconut milk: I just remembered coconut milk while writing the post for Larder- part deux. Crave it, need it. For asian dishes, curries and cakes. 'Nuff said. Just take care you don't overdo it - those bad fats'll git 'ya.
• Sweeteners: local honey, brown sugar, white sugar and asian rock sugar (Yan Can Cook converted me to that one) are in the larder. Maple syrup from Awazibi in Maniwaki is in the fridge. I use the honey and the maple syrup to sweeten salad dressings (on top of their obvious breakfast applications). The sugars are for baking and coffee. The rock sugar is for asian dishes such as stir-fries.
• Dried fruit: I keep most of them in the fridge for optimal freshness (dried cherries, apricots and raisins), although I did notice that yellow-bagged lollygagger in the picture (dried plums). I add dried fruit to salads, pilafs, oatmeal in the morning and baked goods. They're also perfect for snacking when combined with a handful of almonds.
• Plain chips and pretzels: you can't see them in the larder picture because I keep them in a separate cupboard above the fridge, high enough that I have to make the conscious effort to drag a chair over to reach them. Stupid temptation. Chips and pretzels are another non-spoiling crowd pleaser when it's cocktail time. But we're not heathens, here. Serve them with something fancy like cornichons and pickled onions. Puh-lease. 

So there we go! Part one of the greater-larder overview. I hope this information proves useful as the cold weather rears its ugly head and you begin squirrelling food away for winter... Ew. Apologies for using the "W" word. 

Next post: larder, part deux! À plus tard!

The curse of the giant zucchini, or, The night I discovered I'd never be an animal photographer

So Dad's just being a showoff. He dropped these off last weekend.

I tried to show the scale of these monsters by placing a pen next to them, but somehow, it just didn't do them justice. So I looked outside... Ah. There we go :

Oh! Hey mom!

What the ?!?!?

Behemoths, I tell you! My father wins in the quantity department, that's for sure. But he doesn't have as pretty beets and carrots as I do! *grumble grumble*

So what was I to do with such a bounty of horribly large cucurbits? I got to work, that's what! Here's a mash-up of a few things I did.

1) I roasted them. 

First up, a roasted zucchini and quinoa salad. 

• I cooked one cup of quinoa in water with a dash of salt. Once cooked, I set it aside to cool.
• While the quinoa cooked, I cut the courgettes lengthwise into 5mm slices, tossed them with a little canola oil, salt and pepper and cooked them straight on the barbecue grill until they were softened but still toothsome (i.e. not mushy!) Once done, I cut them into bite-size pieces.
• I chopped up a palmful (smaller than a handful) of basil and a handful of parsley from the garden.
• In a salad bowl, I whisked together some sherry vinegar (white wine vinegar would have been nice too) and some olive oil (ratio of 1 part vinegar to 3 part oil is usually good.)
• Finally, I tossed everything in the bowl with the dressing, adjusted the seasoning with more salt and pepper and POOF! Done. 

Sadly, Marc, my sister and I ate the salad much too quickly for me to remember picture-taking. Here's what I managed to get, post-meal. You'll have to trust me on this. It was beautiful and it was tasty. Reeeeeeal tasty.

Second up, another roasted zucchini salad, this time with barbecued tofu. And I remembered the pictures that time!

• I sliced the zucchini lengthwise into 5mm slices, and did the same thing with the tofu (firm), only slicing crosswise instead. I made sure I squeezed the tofu between sheets of paper towel to remove any excess water. I then tossed the tofu and the zuckes together with a bit of canola oil and some Montreal steak spice (thaaat's right - steak spice!) 

• Next came grill time, where I decided at the last minute to throw on a few slices of leftover red onion that had been lying at the back of the fridge. Best decision ever.

• Once the tofu had turned golden with some good, darker grill marks, and the zukes had softened without being mushy, I pulled them off, along with the onions, and threw them back in their pre-cue bowl to cool off a bit.
• After I chopped the zucchinis and tofu into bite-size pieces, I added the following to the bowl:
• a chopped golden tomato
• some chopped romaine lettuce
• a splash of balsamic vinegar and some olive oil
• salt and pepper

And voilà! A warm roasted zucchini and tofu salad with red onion and golden tomato. Faboo.

And finally, tonight, 

2) I baked with the zucchinis

I just went to my go-to gal for bundts, The Food Librarian, and got the recipe for a Zucchini Olive Oil Bundt. I dropped the lemon glaze because I ran out of sugar, but compensated by serving the cake with some home-made whipped cream (whip 35% cream with a drop of vanilla and a bit of sugar). Mmmmm... Satisfactorily delicious replacement.... Again, apologies for the lack of "before" pictures. It was just that damned good.

But wait! Are those toasted almond bits I see? Why yes, Timmy, those are!

Just check out this moist and tender crumb. COME ON! IT'S GORGEOUS!

The evening ended beautifully with Marc taking care of the dishes while I tried to replicate the "doggie to zucchini scale" picture of Ti-Gars with what was left of Gigantor, the Ridiculously Large Courgette. Sadly, that's when I discovered that any hopes I may have had of one day being an animal photographer were probably a waste of time... Oy. I leave you with samplings of the disastrous photo shoot. 

À la prochaine!