Supermarket Oddity!

Yes, you are reading that correctly. "Goat Milk Caramel Spread".

For those that know me well, you can imagine my reaction upon discovering this treat at No Frills. Something akin to the reaction I had when I found gluten-free perogies. For those that don't know me well, I welled up with joy when I found those perogies. Right there in the frozen food section of my local health food store.

I am, at this very moment, eating goat milk caramel spread on raisin toast. I plan on eating it on pretty much everything until the bottle is empty. I, of course, have an acquired taste for goat milk, given that I can eat little else. But experiencing the warm, earthy taste of goat cheese, one of my most favourite things, interpreted in caramel form, it's unreal. I'm planning on putting it on ice cream, french toast, and drinking it directly out of the bottle (again).

Writer's note: The day after writing the above post, I awoke with, shall we say, some interesting sensations in my stomach. I'm not saying the caramel is to blame, but the over-indulgence may have contributed. More research is required. Ow.

Santa brought me a new toy!

Christmas has come and gone, and I was able to check a few things off my running wish list. Something I've been after for a while now is a enameled cast-iron casserole pot. I've often been found in Williams-Sonoma ogling the Le Creuset dishes, shedding a tear or two at their price tag. I love cooking, but at over $200 each, they're a little out of my reach, even if they do come in pretty colours, like aubergine or egg yolk yellow. Sigh. My inner Julia Child weeps.

Luckily, there are knock-offs that are much more affordable, and I now have one in my possession. With the ability to go from stove top to oven, it's a versatile addition to my cookware collection.

I have in my possession a cookbook called Bowl Food. Living in a small apartment, I have long since sacrificed my dining table to my sewing machine, and I tend to eat all my meals either standing up in the kitchen or on the sofa. As the title suggests, Bowl Food contains recipes for soups, stews, curries, salads, any saucy dish that can be eaten, in my case, with minimal mess while curled up on the couch. Many of the dishes contained in its pages required the use of a dutch oven, and now I could partake! One of these coveted dishes was a chicken casserole, which I have since made several times, with some interesting variations. The original recipe is as follows:

1/4 cup olive oil
2 lbs. boneless chicken thighs halved, then quartered
1 onion, finely chopped
1 leek, cleaned and sliced
1 clove garlic, crushed
3/4 lb. mushrooms, sliced
1/2 tsp dried tarragon
1 1/2 cups chicken stock
3/4 cup cream
2 teaspoons lemon juice
2 teaspoons Dijon mustard

Preheat oven to 350 F. Heat 1 tablespoon of the olive oil in your dutch oven over medium heat and cook the chicken in batches for 6-7 minutes each, until golden brown. Remove chicken from dish and set aside.

Add remaining oil and cook onion, leek and garlic over medium heat for 5 minutes or until soft, and most of the liquid has evaporated. Add the tarragon, chicken stock, cream, lemon juice, and mustard, bring to a boil, and cook or 2 minutes. Return chicken to dish, add salt and pepper to taste and cover.

Place casserole in the oven and cook for 1 hour until the sauces has reduced and thickened.

Initial issues with this recipe: Adding cream and lemon juice at the same time. Really? Don't most cookbooks advise against that? When I made this, I added the dairy first, cooked it for a bit, then added the lemon juice close to the end once the proteins in the milk had cooked a bit.

That said, I obviously didn't add cream, I used my usual go-to dairy, 3% goat milk. The first time I made it, I followed the recipe to the letter. The next time, I had no chicken, so I used pork, and added some white wine instead of lemon juice. The next time, I didn't have chicken or mushrooms. I substituted pork again, and added cubed potatoes and sweet potatoes. Every time, it was amazing, but by far, the pork-wine combo was my favourite.

I mean, you can't go wrong with pork and wine.

Paranoid much?

Discovering you have a food allergy changes your life. Eating was once a carefree activity, restaurants were magical places, dinner parties, a joy. But alas, no more. I'm perpetually afraid that lurking around every corner is some hidden wheat or dairy waiting to ruin my day and my insides. For example, were you aware that both Twizzlers and Mentos have wheat in them? Bologna has dairy in it? Mind you, in those instances it's likely the universe is telling me I can do better, food-wise. So yes, I am paranoid. I won't eat anything if I can't clearly see all the ingredients. I shy away from sauces, dressings, and pre-made seasonings. I've adapted.

As the weather has approached arctic, I have been increasingly in the mood for any food that's finished with bread crumbs. Comfort food. Nostalgic nibbles from my childhood. I was recently craving my mom's meatloaf, moist inside, crunchy bread-crumby outside, flavoured with multiple meats (and their accompanying fat) and fried onions. When I called her for the recipe, I found that it called for seasoning salt, something I never use in my cooking and never have in the house because it typically has MSG in it (another pesky allergen). What I did have in the house were all the ingredients to concoct a suitable replacement. For me, the only difference between this and store-bought seasoning salt is the lack of MSG-induced migraine! Yay!

1 part celery seed
1 part paprika
1 part onion powder
1 part garlic powder
6 parts sea salt
pinch of oregano

Mix.
Store in an air-tight container.

Season your meats with this, but remember, it's still mostly salt, so don't over-do it. I advise using an air-tight shaker to store this, so you don't accidentally pour the whole shebang out and ruin your meatloaf. What a crime that would be.

Nostalgic nibbles

It may be that I'm feeling a bit sad that summer vacation is nearly over, and my place of work will no longer be inhabited by screaming, spoiled wee brats. It may be the office supply store's back to school commercials running on an endless loop reminding us of pencil sales. It may be the return of the CNE. Whatever the underlying motivation, I find myself drawn lately to the snacks of yesteryear. The kind lovingly made by a parent, the kind that, though healthy, are hidden under a fog of fun. For me, nothing says childhood like peanut butter, a luxury by today's rigid standards for allergy free environments. When was the last time you had apple slices and celery sticks and peanut butter dip? You were probably building a LEGO housing development at the time.

How about freezies?

Hot dogs?

Kool-aid?

I've spent the summer reacquanting myself with the foods that we all tend to "grow out of." Truth be told, I've had a lot of time on my hands.

One other elementary school snack I've been craving is veggies and ranch dressing. With my endless list of food sensitivities, dairy and MSG being among those, store bought salad dressing is pretty much out of the question. But oh how I missed the subtle distinct flavour of ranch! Luckily, like anyone reading this, I have internet access. I found a great Ranch recipe that uses yogurt instead of the usual sour cream or buttermilk, and I made it my own.

1/3 cup mayo
2/3 cup yogurt
1 teaspoon dried dill
2 teaspoon dried parsley
1/2 teaspoon dijon mustard
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
1/4 teaspoon onion powder
1/4 teaspoon pepper
salt to taste

Whisk everything together. That's it.
Pairs well with carrot sticks, cherry tomatoes, and cartoons.

Yes, more meat recipes!

As I've said previously, it has become my mission for the summer to up the ante on my meat cooking abilities. I also have a passion for sandwiches. Sadly, with my wheat allergy, I'm very limited when it comes to eating at restaurants. One sandwich in particular has been tempting me from pub menus for a while...pulled pork.

With the meat roasting practice I already have under my belt, and my penchant for sandwiches, this was clearly my next challenge. In the tradition of mother's day, though ill-fated for myself, I decided to treat dear old dad to a home cooked meal as well. He requested simply "pork". Hmmm, things were becoming clearer. I ventured to one of the pricier grocery stores near me to get, if anything, some ideas. Wouldn't you know it? Pork shoulder roasts were on sale! 30% off! Serendipitous, no?

The recipe is a collaboration of a few I found online. The spice rub is from my favourite TV chef. He serves the sandwiches on buns topped with homemade coleslaw, which I opted to as well. Gotta get some veg in there once in a while.


Spice rub:

4 heaping tbsp brown sugar
4 heaping tbsp paprika (I used smoked paprika, YUM)
2 heaping tbsp garlic powder
2 heaping tbsp onion powder
2 heaping tbsp ground pepper
2 heaping tbsp fine salt
2 heaping tbsp ground cumin
2 heaping tbsp ground coriander
2 heaping tbsp dried oregano


"Mop":

1/2 cup cider vinegar
1 tablespoon brown sugar
2 tablespoons spice rub

1 pork shoulder roast (mine was about 3.5 lbs)

Put all the ingredients for the spice rub into a Mason jar and shake until well-combined. Coat the roast with the rub. It's called a rub for a reason, people. Don't be shy. Be liberal with the spice, and really massage it into all the little nooks and crannies of the meat. TV chef recommends leaving the roast overnight to let the flavours penetrate, but I didn't, and it turned out pretty amazing. Preheat oven to 325. From here I seared all sides in an olive-oiled pan. Top, bottom, sides, ends. Lock in that spicy goodness. Here's where a meat thermometer comes in handy (and helps you avoid food poisoning loved ones!). This is a big hunk of pig, and will need to cook in a covered roaster at that low temperature for about 3 1/2 to 4 hours, or until it reaches an internal temperature of 165, "mopping" every half an hour with the vinegar mixture.

Now comes the really fun part. The pulling. Although I'm also partial to the rubbing. No matter. Pork is pulled by shredding it apart with two forks. Tear it up small. Mix the shredded pork with some of your favourite barbecue sauce and pile onto a bun, top with coleslaw. Dig in.

This keeps really well. I put the left over whole pork roast in the fridge, and would break off chunks, reheat them, and shred them. I happily ate pulled pork sandwiches for a week. And, more importantly, Dad was happy too.

A Cautionary Tale...

Once upon a time, a well-intentioned young lady decided to host a 3-generation Mother's Day luncheon. She invited her mother, godmother and grandmother. She got to work on a delicious and crowd-pleasing menu: chicken souvlaki, sweet potato salad, mango and avocado salad, homemade cornbread and pea soup. Always a well-prepared cook, she got to work on her menu early, preparing ahead of time. A few days before the event, she got to work on her pea soup. She decided, as usual, to wing this recipe, starting with a yummy broth made from smoked pork hock and the decision to use frozen peas instead of dried, a decision, she later found out, that would have eliminated the need to puree the soup had she chosen dried peas.

The soup was seasoned and simmered, and it was time to spoon the hot mixture into her blender, something she had done many times before. There was the roasted cauliflower soup, and the goat cheese and broccoli soup, both of which had turned out smooth and delicious. But alas, that was a different time and a different blender. The pretty, nay, stunning chef had just received a new blender the previous Christmas, and hadn't as yet run it through the gamut of its responsibilities. In fact, the only action it may have seen was a batch of blended margaritas.

Logic would dictate that "whip" would be on a high speed, while "blend" would be a lower speed. Sadly this was not the case. You can see where this story is going, no? Piping hot soup...mistaken blender speeds...

Needless to say, once the button marked "blend" was pressed, all efforts to keep the lid on the jar were found to be in vain. Boiling hot soup gushed out of the blender, onto the floor, the counter, the front of her clothes and worst of all, her uncovered arms, leaving severe burns and causing severe pain.

What can we learn from this tale?

1 - When making something for the first time, you don't necessarily have to follow a recipe, but take a gander at one.
2 - Make absolutely sure you know how to use your kitchen appliances before you load them with napalm.
3 - Keep a fully stocked first aid kit handy. You never know when making dinner will anecdotally be referred to as "the incident with the [insert kitchen appliance here]"

Writer's note: I have graciously opted not to post pictures of my injuries. My intention with this blog is to whet your appetites, not cause you to lose them.

Another mountain climbed! Vegans need not apply.

I have made it my mission for the summer to become a meat cooking expert. While I've always been adept at making side dishes, meat, especially larger cuts like roasts, have always intimidated and intrigued me. They're notoriously easy for novices to ruin, and yet there's this caveman appeal, this prehistoric urge for humans to cook meat over fire. Reason #32 why I don't understand vegans. They see a drawing of a cave-family in their fur skirts cooking a side of gazelle over a fire and they see a massacre. I see a family dinner.

It's not really fair to make fun of vegans. They don't have the strength to fight back.

Last week, I'm proud to say I cooked a whole chicken for the first time, and what a success that was. It's not that hard to make something taste good when you have butter and garlic at your disposal. To prepare my chicken, I trimmed away the excess fat, ripped the guts out, and gently began pulling the skin away from the flesh. I really got my hands in there, all along both sides of the body of my bird, creating a tasty pocket to hold butter, which I melted and added a few cloves of garlic, some lemon zest, and some dry tarragon. Baked for an hour at 350 in a covered roasting pan, then took off the lid and stuck it under the broiler to crisp up the skin. AND there were enough drippings to make gravy! Which I ate on toast.

OK, chicken down. Easy. So I decided to seek out a notoriously difficult to cook cut of meat.

Brisket.

If cooked wrong, fatty, tough and stringy. If cooked slowly, melt in your mouth beef candy. Never having cooked brisket before, I did the sensible thing and Googled a recipe. Now because brisket has so much fat and connective tissue in it, it needs to be cooked slowly for the fat to melt into the meat, which softens it. I've had it slow cooked on the grill, which was to die for. Unfortunately, it takes about 6 hours to cook on low indirect heat. I opted for the braising method which takes a mere 2 hours. Until recently, I had no idea what braising was. It's a method of oven cooking where the cut of meat is immersed partially in liquid and tightly covered to preserve the meat's tenderness. The recipes I encountered in the google-sphere ranged from boring (just broth) to the insane (ketchup, onion soup mix and cola). I opted to wing mine.

For a 2 pound brisket:
1 cup broth (I had vegetable broth)
2 tbsp tomato paste
1 tsp salt (I'm fancy, so I used smoked sea salt)
1 tsp ground pepper
1/2 tsp dry rosemary
1/2 tsp cumin
maple syrup
(I didn't measure, but my estimate would be 1 1/2-2 oz, yes I measure in shots)
2 tbsp apple cider vinegar
1 tbsp paprika
3 cloves of garlic, crushed

I'm guessing on most of those measurements. I rarely measure, I add stuff, I taste, etc. I added everything to a small sauce pan and simmered until the concoction reduced to about 3/4 of the original volume.

Brisket has a thick layer of fat on one side, so to prep, I cut into the fat diagonally in both directions, which will help the fat render into the meat. I rubbed the meat with a mixture of sea salt, brown sugar, pepper and dry rosemary, which I ground with my mortar and pestle. Really crust that mixture on both sides of the roast. I also opted to sear the meat before I put it in the oven, in a large frying pan on high heat. Just under a minute on each side, until the fatty side gets a bit crispy looking. Then pop that sucker in a roasting pan, fatty side up, pour in the braising liquid, which should come up about halfway on the side of the roast, cover and stick it in a 275 degree oven for 2 hours.

After 2 hours, I removed my roast from the oven, poured the braising liquid back into a saucepan over medium heat to reduce it some more. And I put the roast back in the oven under the broiler for a few minutes to crisp up that fat. Oh and I coated it with more maple syrup. Serve with the reduced braising liquid for dipping.

Warning! Even slow cooking won't render away all the fat. Do not operate any heavy machinery after a brisket. This is a very heavy meal, and as a result I will be eating salads for the next few days.