Christmas in July

There's a lovely song by The 6ths called "Winter in July" and I'm going to invoke the same idea here by talking about Xmas five months too early. In December 2008, I talked about chef Heston Blumenthal's TV special called "The Perfect Christmas". At the time, all I could offer to you was a teaser trailer. Well, someone has since posted the entire episode online so now you can witness for yourself why I was swooning after watching it last winter.

Bean Brownies Part Two

About a month ago, I wrote about my Azuki Raspberry "Brownies" recipe: a brownie-like confection that uses Azuki beans instead of chocolate to get its flavor. Just to follow up, I wanted to mention that I tried other variations of this theme.

I made Black Bean Blackberry "Brownies" and Azuki Blueberry "Brownies" for a party. Not much was changed from the original recipe except for the choice of bean and/or fruit.

I used plain beans this time without any additives at all, which required the addition of several tablespoons of honey. Agave nectar, jam, jellies, maple syrup or brown sugar (if you're allowed to have it) would have also been acceptable as sweetening agents. My advice would be to under-sweeten it a bit, remembering that the natural fruit sugars will be contributing to the overall flavor.

My final opinion? The seeds of the blackberries were a bit of a nuisance -- getting a little pit stuck in your teeth while biting into what should be soft, gooey "brownie" is not especially pleasant. And while a lot of choco-alternative recipes endorse the use of black beans, I didn't find that it made the batter any darker than the Azuki, nor did I find the taste as refined. The blueberry was great from a texture point of view, but given the choice, I would opt for the raspberry + azuki combo every time. They just naturally seem to complement each other. It just surprises me that I got it right the first try.

Drunken Tomatoes

I was invited to a BBQ/house-warming party and wanted to bring something fun to eat. Obviously the stars of the BBQ were going to be the meats. I was pretty sure that our hosts had that covered more than adequately, so I opted for an appetizer.

Gourmet magazine recently featured editor-in-chief Ruth Reichl's favorite recipes of the month. One of them was a recipe for Vodka-Spiked Cherry Tomatoes with Pepper Salt. I was instantly enamoured with the photo of colorful, peeled cherry tomatoes dredged in coarsely ground black pepper and kosher salt. Plus they were described as follows:

"These tender, potent little orbs make a splendid Bloody Mary–esque addition to a beach-blanket picnic or a fancy cocktail party, and they tend to disappear in no time flat."

Peeling the tomatoes took some time but it was not at all difficult to do after blanching them. They were well-received at the party and I think by the end of the evening, only a couple were left in the bowl.

Someone asked me if the tomatoes I used were campari. (Under the influence of the party buzz, the only thing that popped into my head was the Campari aperitif, which I enjoy on the rocks. So, my response was an informative "duh, I don't know".) I looked up the website of the Ontario grower -- Mastronardi/Sunset Produce -- that my tomatoes came from. It looks like their "Tomato Medley" package is a mix of their specialty varieties: campari, champagne cocktail, grape, heirloom, etc. They certainly make a strong case for locally grown produce.

Z is for Chocolate

I was invited to a baby shower recently. We were all to bring some food and/or drink, so I asked the mum-to-be if she had any particular food cravings. "Greens!" she replied. Given that she starts her mornings with power shakes made of all kinds of healthy plant matter, this was not an unexpected answer.

My immediate thought was, "chocolate zucchini".

To anyone familiar with carrot cake, this is not such a strange combination. The vegetal flavors fade into the batter -- the result doesn't taste like a salad -- and you are rewarded with cakes that have density and moisture. That said, I have never actually made any zucchini cakes before, nor did I have any recipes on hand. With Google as my guide, I went on a prowl.

Rejected were the recipes that demanded far too many ingredients or ingredients that were too elusive or expensive to obtain. I wasn't enthralled by the cakes that looked too spongy or airy, or the cakes that relied on heavy icing or chocolate chips for most of its flavor.

Somewhat predictably, I landed on the Chocolate Zucchini Cupcakes Recipe from one of my favorite cooking sites, 101 Cookbooks (already listed among my favorite links on this blog). This recipe predates my discovery of the blog, but I had a strong inkling that Heidi Swanson, the author, would have tackled such a recipe already.

The recipe was ridiculously easy to prepare. I opted to bake it in a mini cupcake pan, which reduced the baking time to 10 min. I was a little heavy-handed in the quantity of zucchini, chocolate chips, allspice and cinnamon, feeling confident that the outcome would not suffer as a result. The cupcakes were dark, spicy, molten chocolate bites -- exactly what I was aiming for. They were deadly good at any temperature: hot, cold or room temp. It helps to use good quality chocolate and pure vanilla extract (not that artificial crap, ptoui! ptoui!).

Cuckoo for Kuku

My Amazon order for a Persian cookbook called "New Food of Life: Ancient Persian and Modern Iranian Cooking and Ceremonies" finally arrived -- thanks for the gift certificate Min! -- and I dove into the recipes immediately.

The friend who presented me with a cooking challenge recently unloaded several pounds' worth of dried beans on me. It seemed appropriate, therefore, to look up some Persian dishes using beans.

One of the simplest recipes I found was for kuku, which is a type of Iranian dish resembling the Italian frittata or the omelet. According to the cookbook author, Najmieh Batmanglij, "a good kuku is thick and rather fluffy."

There are over a dozen variations on the kuku in the book. I can't post Batmanglij's recipes here without her permission, but I can generalize it for you here. [Note to AP: This is an Option #2 recipe.]

Basic Kuku Recipe
Serves 8

1. All the kuku recipes begin with chopped onions (or shallots or chives or scallions) and minced garlic being softened, not browned, in a skillet with oil or butter.
   
2. Preheat the oven to 350°F.
   
3. Remove the skillet from heat and add your preferred fillings -- cooked lima beans and chopped fresh dill in this instance -- and the entire mixture is transferred to a baking dish. (I like using a round pie plate for this recipe.)
   
4. In a separate bowl, lightly whisk together 3-4 eggs, a dab of yogurt and salt & pepper to taste.
   
5. Pour the egg mixture over the first mixture in the baking dish. Gently give it a brief stir to distribute the eggs because they will bind everything together.
   
6. Bake in a 350°F oven for 30 min, brush the top with oil, then bake another 30 min or until the top is golden like a quiche.

Favorites: Apricots

Summer brings a glorious bounty of fresh fruit. I thoroughly enjoy all of them, but I have a particular affinity for stone fruit, or drupes. Perhaps their scarcity in the colder months increases their cachet. Canadian winters, after all, are longer than all other seasons combined. White peaches appeal to me, with their soft perfume, sensual textures and delicate sweetness -- it's no accident that many writers make lusty associations with that fruit. The same goes for cherries, mangoes, nectarines and plums.

Hence, I am not saying that I enjoy apricots more than all of those fruits. But from a cooking standpoint, I think the apricot offers a versatility that I don't think is matched by its peers within the same genus of plants. Apart from tarts, jams and other typical applications of fruit, the apricot gets used in complex mains such as soups, stews and stuffed meats (the Sweet and Sour Stuffed Chicken recipe, for example). And it seems to cross multiple cultural boundaries, turning up in cuisines ranging from Finnish to Persian.

Apricots transform beautifully in the oven or on the grill. Some of its tartness goes away. The sight of its caramelized edges and dripping juices makes me salivate.

I recently put apricot halves under the broiler (I know, I know, I need to get with the program and get me a badass BBQ grill). I glazed the fruit with some gorgeous white wine jelly that a friend recently gave me. Any other light-colored jam, jelly or marmalade would have worked just as well. While still warm, I piled some of those glazed, roasted apricots over a bowl of good quality vanilla ice cream. Like a hot fudge sundae, it was ok, if not desirable, to have some of the ice cream melt from the heat of the toppings. Yum.

My ultimate goal for cooking with apricots is to find or invent the ultimate recipe for the pastry you see on the left. Au Pain Doré calls it the Abricotine, likely named after the Swiss apricot liqueur of the same name. Not long ago, I found another version of it in a kosher grocery. It is probably my most favorite dessert pastry in the world. The beauty of it is in the pristine presentation of the apricot halves -- shiny with glaze, made to look like raw egg yolks. There is an eggy custard at the bottom. The pastry needs to be light and flaky. A lot of mediocre bakeries allow them to get soggy from the fillings, which is a big no-no. If you have a great recipe for it, please share!

Made in China

I'm not a fan of Westernized Chinese take-out fare. Dishes like General Tao's (or Tso's) Chicken are really American/Canadian inventions. The real General Tso's own descendants have never even heard of the dish, let alone tasted it. I'm not offended so much by the lack of "authenticity" as I am by how bad these foods are for my arteries and waistline.

That said, I do resort to eating Chinese Canadian fast food on occasion, mostly when I am dying for some rice. (I go through serious withdrawals if I go without rice for more than a day.)

Recently, I had lunch at Made in China, located in downtown Toronto. It's a popular venue that blends North American chic with Communist kitsch. Most of the clientele is Asian, which is its biggest claim to credibility.

I ordered a beef brisket and radish stew -- which came with rice, of course. Much to my amazement, it had deep flavors and a "gravy" that I ended up sopping up with every last grain of rice on my plate. I wondered if I could emulate the dish at home.

Sadly, my neighborhood supermarket has a lousy selection of meat and produce. Instead of beef brisket, I ended up with pork loin. Not having beef meant that I could not produce a brown gravy. The radish in the stew was supposed to be daikon, but all I could find were the small, red, "Cherry Belle" radishes. Nevertheless, the result was quite tasty.

Note: I braised everything in the oven, but next time, I think I will start it on the stove top to skim off any impurities from the meat, then move it into the oven for a long braise. The result willl look more attractive that way.

General M's Braised Pork Loin and Radish
Serves 6-8

6-8 strips of pork loin cut close to the ribs (or fillet a top loin/tenderloin into strips the thickness of ribs)
1 bunch of Cherry Belle red radishes, radishes sliced and its leaves coarsely chopped
3-4 cups of vegetable stock (homemade is best)
¼ cup sake
1 Tbsp mirin
6 ¼-inch slices of ginger
8 scallions cut into ¼ length pieces
4 cloves garlic
1 cinnamon stick
2 whole star anise
¼ tsp red pepper flakes (more if you like it spicy)
salt, to taste
sesame oil, to serve
chopped cilantro, for garnish

1. Preheat the oven to 400°F.
2. In a deep roasting pan, add all of the ingredients except for the salt, sesame oil and cilantro.
3. Put the pan in the oven for 1-2 hours. Turn over the meat periodically. Remove the pan from the oven when the meat reaches the desired doneness and color. Add salt to taste.
   
4. To serve, cut up the pork strips in to bite-size pieces, spoon the other ingredients over the meat, drizzle some sesame oil and garnish with the chopped cilantro.
   

Gimme Kimchi

You know the second half of "Cannibal Ferox" in which the cannibal tribe of the Amazon exacts their terrible, sadistic, gory revenge on the white men and women who enslaved and murdered their people? No? Doesn't matter, as long as you understand that my week at work has been worse than that.

Which means I haven't had much opportunity to cook this week. However, I have tried to stay in touch with my passions: watching some Food Network and also catching an episode of Gourmet magazine's Diary of a Foodie. This time it was an episode titled "Korea: Ancient Food, Modern World". (Click on the link to watch the whole episode online.)

I thoroughly enjoy Korean cuisine, but I've never been instructed on the differences between Northern and Southern dishes, nor have I heard of Korean royal court cuisine (vaguely similar to Japanese kaiseki cuisine) before seeing this program. Last but not least, I had no idea that there was so much more to kimchi than just Chinese cabbage and red chili paste. Did you know that there are 187 recognized varieties of kimchi? Watch Inja Yoo -- a certified royal court chef -- prepare some extraordinary dishes, including bossam kimchi, which is a gorgeous stuffed/rolled cabbage filled with seafood.

Sweet and Sour Stuffed Chicken

As I was reading Persian cookbook reviews on Amazon, I was struck by one post that complained about chefs who overplay the exoticism of their ethnic cuisine by adding far too many obscure ingredients and making a recipe more difficult (and thereby inaccessible) than necessary. It's a kind of cultural snobbery to keep foreigners at bay. This complaint was from an Iranian who insisted that his/her family makes traditional dishes using simple grocery store items that should be available pretty much anywhere.

I was grateful for that feedback because I wouldn't know what makes a Persian dish "authentic". However, I can say that the same complaint applies to the glut of Japanese cookbooks out there. If a Japanese Canadian who knows her way around Asian groceries can't get her hands on a certain ingredient, then what is the point of even publishing such a book?

I adapted the Persian Sweet and Sour Stuffed Chicken recipe posted at the Mage Publishers site to accommodate the restricted diet I'm following. Apart from some minor changes, there wasn't much I needed to do to simplify the recipe. It takes a bit of time to prepare because of the number of things that need chopping or filleting, but it is not at all difficult.

Sweet and Sour Stuffed Chicken
Serves 6-8

6-8 chicken breasts, boneless, skinless
1 Tbsp light olive oil
1 large onion, finely chopped
2 cloves of garlic, minced
1 cup prunes, pitted and finely chopped
1 cup dried apricots, finely chopped
1 baking apple, diced
¼ tsp freshly ground black pepper
¼ tsp saffron, steeped in 2 Tbsp of hot water
1 tsp honey
juice of 2 oranges

1. Butterfly and pound each breast to an even thickness.
2. In a large pot, heat the olive oil at medium heat. Add the onion, garlic, prunes, apricots, and apple. Don't allow anything to sear; just heat through gently.
3. Add the pepper, saffron with water, honey and the juice of one orange. Lower the temperature and allow the mixture to soak up the moist ingredients for about 10-15 min.
4. Preheat the oven to 350°F.
5. Place a ¼ to ½ cup of the stuffing mixture in the middle of each chicken fillet and wrap the meat around it. To hold it together, truss the the stuffed breasts with kitchen twine as shown above.
6. Place the stuffed breasts in a roasting pan and pour the remaining orange juice over them.
7. Bake for 1½ hours or until the chicken meat has reached at least 180°F. Baste the breasts frequently with the juices that have run off and mixed with the orange juice.
   
8. To serve, remove the twine and slice into cross sections.
   

Chilled Cucumber Soup

Persian cuisine is relatively new territory for me -- one that I am excited to learn more about. Having an Iranian friend who cooks her native dishes effortlessly and intuitively is a good way to start. However, I can't keep imposing on her for information, so I went on a hunt for a good online resources.

The good peeps at Mage Publishers -- an indie publisher of Persian literature and cultural books -- have generously posted a few recipes from Najmieh Batmanglij's "New Food of Life" and her other cookbooks in the Mage catalogue. (Note: "New Food of Life" was described by some reviewers on Amazon as being the best English cookbook on Persian cuisine, so I promptly ordered it today.)

By coincidence, the first recipe on the Mage page is for a Yogurt and Cucumber Dip/Soup (Mast-o khiar) which is ridiculously similar to a Scandinavian recipe for a chilled cucumber soup that I wanted to try. It just goes to show you that we all live in a tiny global village.

I modified a couple of ingredients to suit the restricted diet I've been following. I also have the good fortune to have successfully grown herbs from seed, including dill, sweet marjoram, basil, and lemon basil. This may not sound like a big deal to you, but I am the grim reaper of plants and the fact that any greenery has lived under my care is a miracle of biblical proportions. Anyway, the fresh dill was a great addition to this dish. [Note to AP: This is an Option #1 recipe.]

Chilled Cucumber Soup
Serves 4

¼ cup shallots, coarsely chopped
1 English cucumber, peeled, seeded and diced
2-3 cups plain yogurt (depends how thick you like it)
1 Tbsp fresh mint leaves
1-2 Tbsp fresh sprigs of dill
salt and pepper to taste
3 Tbsp walnuts, chopped *optional for garnish
½ cup raisins, soaked and drained *optional for garnish

1. In a large bowl, combine the shallots, cucumber, yogurt and herbs.
2. Puree the mixture until relatively smooth. (Note: the cucumber flesh will give it a porridge-like texture, which is what you should be aiming for.)
3. Season with salt and pepper.
4. Chill until ready to serve. Garnish with walnuts or raisins if desired.

Note: the mint will turn black if not eaten right away. This doesn't impact the flavor too badly, but it isn't as pretty as when it is green. If this is a concern, add chopped mint only at serving time.