Settling the unsettled

31 Monday Mar 2014

Posted by julia chews the fat in Lunch & Dinner, The Basics, Vegetarian

A solitary shoe in the middle of the street. An unexpected letter from the revenue agency. A ticking clock. A night bus that’s nowhere in sight. THIS.

These are all things that, to varying degrees, I find pretty unsettling. But none of them match the unsettled feeling that creeps through me when I begin apartment hunting. I’ve moved so often, you’d think I’d be a professional by now. A cool, calm, collected professional. And yet, it’s up there with the most unnerving, frustrating, disappointing, desperate experiences I’ve been through. The idea of uprooting yourself (again), competing with other searchers, and relying on some vague faith that you’ll find something better than what you’ve already got – for a price that won’t force you subsist on beans – can be quite the emotional roller-coaster. The worst part is that through the sweating and waiting and trekking to appointments, you can’t really complain – because it was your idea in the first place.

Bah.

Though it’s barely just begun, this most recent search is already starting to make me feel weary, disillusioned, mildly petrified…weepy. When you’re hoofing to different parts of the city, visiting crappy places, in this, it’s only a matter of time before you start to lose your marbles.

As with other moments in life when I’ve wanted to climb into a hovel and never come out, I turn to food to bring me back to earth and help me confront the not-so-fun bits of life. I’m not talking about eating fistfuls of Doritos for dinner or gorging on tubs of ice cream (though, that wouldn’t be so bad). No, I’m talking about food I can rely on – something that’s grounding and provides comfort, sustenance and just the right amount of chew. Luckily, I recently discovered a recipe that is pretty much a hug in a bowl. Not soup. Not mac & cheese. But PERSIAN SPICED RICE. Yes. I found my savior in a bowl of toasted rice, warm spices, chewy dried fruit and a healthy knob of butter – a gentle reminder that the nasty bits never last forever.

Persian Spiced Rice (serves 6-8 as a side) – adapted from the New York Times

2 cups best-quality Basmati rice
salt
6 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 large onion, diced small
1/4 teaspoon saffron threads, crumbled and soaked in 1/4 cup hot water
Large pinch ground cinnamon
Large pinch ground cardamom
Large pinch ground allspice
Large pinch ground black pepper
Large pinch ground cumin
1/3 cup chopped dried apricots
1/3 cup golden raisins
1/3 cup Thomson raisins (or currants)
1/3 cup blanched slivered almonds (optional)

1) Rinse the rice several times in cold water until the water runs clear. Drain. Bring a large pot of water to a boil with 2 tablespoons kosher salt. Add the rice and boil, stirring occasionally, for 5 minutes. Drain well.

2) Heat 1 tablespoon butter in a small skillet over medium heat. Add the onion, season lightly with salt and cook until softened and lightly colored, 4 to 5 minutes. Moisten with 1 Tbsp of the saffron water and stir in the cinnamon, cardamom, allspice, black pepper and cumin. Cook for 1 minute more. Stir in the apricots and raisins (or currants).

3) Melt 4 tablespoons butter in a heavy-bottomed enamel or nonstick Dutch oven over medium heat. Spread half the par-cooked rice over the bottom of the pot. Spoon over the onion-fruit mixture, then the remaining rice. Leave the pot on the flame, uncovered, for 5 to 8 minutes to gently brown the rice. (Do not stir or move the rice. Trust that it’s doing the right thing).

4) Drizzle the remaining saffron water over the rice and put on the lid. Adjust the heat to very low and leave undisturbed for 30 minutes. Turn off the heat and let rest at least 10 minutes.

5) Heat the remaining 1 tablespoon butter in a small skillet over medium-low heat and gently toast the almonds for a minute or so, taking care not to get them too brown. Set aside for garnish.

6) To serve, spoon the rice into a wide bowl or platter. With a spatula, carefully lift the bottom crust, placing the crisp side up. Sprinkle with the toasted nuts.

Friday Night Couch Cocktails

21 Friday Mar 2014

Posted by julia chews the fat in Beverage, The Basics

≈ 4 Comments

A couple of Fridays ago, I had a dinner date with my close friend, Sophie. We were supposed to meet at the tapas bar after work, but at the last minute, we decided to meet at my place first, for a couple of well-earned, end-of-week drinks. I scoured the fridge and pantry things to snack on, scraping together a plate of olives, walnuts, Gruyère and some rye Knäckebröd, that much-maligned Scandinavian cracker that a lot of people say tastes like cardboard, but that I have a real soft spot for. (Knäckebröd actually falls into a category I call my “old lady favourites”, along with stewed prunes, steel-cut oatmeal and Ovaltine. But I digress.)

We settled on the living room couch, cocktails in hand, with a mix of Louis Prima, Bruce Springsteen and Laura Mvula to keep us company. Luckily, my questionable DJ skills went unnoticed as we quickly got lost in chit chat – about everything and nothing and all the bits in between. We laughed like mad, catching up, reminiscing, and plotting the future. For those next couple of hours, neither of us had a care in the world. I was reminded how good it felt to be by eachother’s side, and how some friendships, somewhat miraculously, manage to stand the test of time.

When I was first getting to know Sophie, the first thing that struck me was how openly frank and uninhibited she could be, even with people she’d just met. This isn’t to say she was rude. Far from it. She just had an aptitude for stripping away the unnecessary layers that a lot of us tend to get twisted up in. It was refreshing. Even now, her candour is something that I marvel at; she’s bold and I love that about her. As we’ve grown into our 20s and 30s together, I’ve borne witness to her ability to take things in stride, put things into perspective and pick her battles – not an easy task whilst navigating the growing pains of early adulthood. I’ve also always admired the way she parents – with big doses of love and encouragement. I’m doubly impressed at how she manages to wrangle her kids when things get out of control, diffusing tantrums like a pro. Perhaps most importantly, she’s able to see past the superficial in things and people, knowing how to appreciate the little things. Like a really good nap, or a low-key summer dinner in the backyard…

…or a cocktail on the couch on a Friday night.

I’ve known Sophie for thirteen years. Aside from my family members, that’s longer than I’ve known any other person. I inherited her friendship through a former boyfriend, but she’s the kind of person you’d think had always been around, from the very beginning. She is one of the strongest, sincerest, beautiful people I know, and though we’re not related in the traditional sense, it is with pride that I call her my sister from another mister. She keeps me grounded and reminds me how to distill what’s important from all the dust that gets kicked up in the air. We can only be so lucky to have people like her in our lives.

This one’s for you, ma belle. Stay bold. Je t’aime. xx

Lemon Gin Fizz (serves 2)

4 ounces gin
2 ounces fresh squeezed lemon juice
2 ounces Lillet Blanc
1 egg white
2-3 dashes Peychaud’s bitters (or Angostura)

Directions

1) Add all ingredients to a cocktail shaker without ice and dry shake for 10 to 15 seconds to emulsify the egg.

2) Add ice and shake again

3) Strain into a chilled cocktail glass and garnish with a lemon twist.

Weather Loops and Chocolate Chip Cookies

14 Friday Mar 2014

Posted by julia chews the fat in Snacking, Sweet Tooth, The Basics

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I don’t know about you, but from where I’m sitting, this is the current state of affairs:

Not very reassuring, is it? We’re two weeks shy of April and I’m beginning to feel like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day – except that instead of a time loop, we’re stuck in a purgatorial weather loop. Happy spring, Quebec.

But, things are going to be okay. Because despite what’s happening outdoors (or in the metaphorical blizzard of your life), there’ll always be chocolate chip cookies. Big, honking chocolate chip cookies with chewy centres and crispy edges.

I fully encourage you to get inside, draw the curtains and slip a pan of these into the oven.

A note on the recipe: Chocolate chip cookies always seem more straight-forward than they actually are. It’s surprising how difficult it can be to get them just right. This recipe is the result of one man’s quest to achieve the perfect chocolate chip cookie – one that strikes the perfect balance between chewy and crisp, light and rich. Like any good food nerd, he addresses the important issues of butter temperature, oven temperature, chilling, salting, kneading, as well as the the ratio of brown sugar to white sugar and the use of chocolate chips vs hand-chopped chocolate. But I think that the ace up this recipe’s sleeve is the addition of brown butter (beurre noisette) which gives these cookies a much-welcomed pinch on the butt.

Brown Butter Chocolate Chip Cookies (makes about 28) – J. Kenji López-Alt’s recipe via Serious Eats

8 oz (2 sticks) unsalted butter
1 standard ice cube (about 2 tablespoons frozen water)
10 oz (about 2 cups) all-purpose flour
3/4 tsp baking soda
1 tsp table salt
5 oz (about 3/4 cup) granulated sugar
2 large eggs
2 tsp vanilla extract
5 oz (about 1/2 tightly packed cup plus 2 tablespoons) dark brown sugar
10 oz mix of bitter-sweet, semi-sweet and white chocolate, roughly chopped into 1/2- to 1/4-inch chunks (for the sake of experimentation, I used a mix of chocolate chips and hand-chopped)
Coarse sea salt for garnish

Melt butter in a medium saucepan over medium-high heat. Cook, gently swirling pan constantly, until particles begin to turn golden brown and butter smells nutty, about 5 minutes. Remove from heat and continue swirling the pan until the butter is a rich brown, about 15 seconds longer. Transfer to a medium bowl and whisk over an ice bath. Transfer to refrigerator and allow to cool completely (about 10 minutes).

Meanwhile, whisk together flour, baking soda, and salt in a large bowl. Place granulated sugar, eggs, and vanilla extract in a large bowl and mix with a hand beater on medium high speed until mixture is pale brownish-yellow and falls off the whisk in thick ribbons when lifted (about 5 minutes).

When brown butter mixture has cooled (it should be just starting to turn opaque again and firm around the edges), add brown sugar and cooled brown butter to egg mixture. Beat on medium speed to combine, about 15 seconds. Add flour mixture and mix on low speed until just barely combined but some dry flour still remains, about 15 seconds. Add chocolate and mix on low until dough comes together, about 15 seconds longer.

Turn out onto counter-top and form into a ball (without kneading/handling too much).

Wrap in cellophane and refrigerate dough at least overnight and up to three days.

When ready to bake, adjust oven racks to upper and lower middle positions and preheat oven to 325°F. Measure out 1oz pieces of dough (with an ice cream scoop or spoon) and place on a parchment-lined baking sheet. Each ball should measure approximately 3 tablespoons in volume and you should be able to fit 6 to 8 balls on each sheet. Transfer to oven and bake until golden brown around edges but still soft, 13 to 16 minutes, rotating pans back to front and top and bottom half way through baking.

Remove baking sheets from oven. While cookies are still hot, sprinkle very lightly with coarse salt and gently press it down to embed. Let cool for 2 minutes, then transfer cookies to a wire rack to cool completely.

Repeat steps 3 and 4 for remaining cookie dough. Allow cookies to cool completely before storing in an airtight container, plastic bag, or cookie jar at room temperature for up to 5 days.

Revisiting fennel & citrus

06 Thursday Mar 2014

Posted by julia chews the fat in Breakfast & Brunch, Cooking For Your Peeps, Lunch & Dinner, Vegetarian

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I know what you’re thinking. Really? A fennel-orange salad? Yawn. Next.

But I’m here to tell you that this one, this salad deserves acknowledgement. It’s the perfect example of how something we treated as ubiquitously blah can be re-invented, re-appropriated and newly appreciated. Like vintage fashion (no, not those high-waisted acid-wash jeans from grade eight, but more like that stunning large-brimmed sun hat your great aunt used to wear, poolside. Or your grandmother’s satin peep-toe slippers. In other words, the elegant retro fashion of a stone-cold fox).

This salad is like a great vintage piece you want to wear over and over again. There’s nothing ground-breaking or earth-shattering about it. Nothing hardcore. But it’s a good salad. A simple, and dare I say, classy salad. And one definitely worth your attention. Most of the fennel-citrus salads I’ve had in my life have been forgettable at best – in large part because either a) the whole thing wilts under the weight of a creamy dressing, or b) the fennel slices looks like they were hacked to pieces with a dull machete, or c) there is a disproportionate amount of fennel, leading you to ask, “Will this salad never END?”.

The recipe below, happily, avoids all these pitfalls. Equal parts crunchy, juicy and sweet, it’s got lemony tones from the sumac dressing, plus a peppery wink from the radish. This salad has got it going on. And if you needed another reason to make it, just look at how gosh-darn pretty it is!

A stone-cold fox of a salad, if you ask me.

Fennel-Citrus Salad with Sumac Dressing – serves 4 as a starter

3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
2 teaspoons white balsamic vinegar
1 teaspoon sumac
1/2 teaspoon finely grated orange zest
Coarse salt
Freshly ground black pepper
2 medium fennel bulbs
4 radishes, trimmed
2 oranges

Important note: I fully endorse the use of a mandoline to get paper-thin fennel and radish slices. It might be masochistic of me (8 times out of 10 I will nick the end of my finger on the second-to-last slice), but I continue to use it for recipes like this, as it yields the best results.

Whisk together the olive oil, lemon juice, vinegar, and sumac, and orange zest and season with salt and pepper. Set aside.

Cut off and discard the stalks from the fennel bulbs, reserving some of the fronds for garnish. Halve the fennel bulbs lengthwise and cut out and discard the cores. Thinly slice the fennel bulbs using a mandoline (or sharp knife). Transfer to a large serving platter. Thinly slice the radishes using a mandoline (or sharp knife). Add to the fennel. Peel and cut the orange into slices, arrange on top of the fennel and radish (for an extra pretty salad, trim the orange into suprêmes. Nifty video here).

Whisk the dressing and drizzle it over the salad. Toss gently to coat.

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