Salmon Chowder

The restricted diet that I am following does not allow for any clams or milk. Nevertheless, I was determined to make a seafood chowder. The clams were easily replaced by cubes of salmon. Replacing the dairy was a sketchy proposition, as it is a key component of any chowder.

I never liked milk substitutes and refused to drink them, despite being lactose intolerant. Soy milk puts me off with its cloying sweetness. Rice milk is thin like water. Fortunately, Natrel makes a brilliant lactose-free milk that actually tastes like milk. However, I've never tried to cook with the milk alternatives, and this was a good opportunity to experiment.

The result was a reasonable approximation to the lighter chowder soups. It could be thickened by pureeing some of the potato in the recipe. [Note to AP: This is an Option #1 dish.]

Salmon Chowder
serves 6

1 large fillet of salmon (roughly 3 portions), skinned and cubed
1 Tbsp light olive oil
1 cup of shallots, sliced
6 small red potatoes (the red potatoes look nicer, but I think white potatoes have a better, smoother texture which is appropriate for this dish), cubed
1 cup of fresh or frozen corn
½ tsp dried thyme
1 bay leaf
⅛ tsp red pepper flakes
½ tsp (or less) sea salt
¼ tsp ground black pepper
3-4 cups of rice milk
2 tsp lemon juice

1. Boil the salmon cubes in water for 8-10 min or until cooked through. Drain and set aside.
   
2. In a large pot, heat the oil at medium heat. Add the shallots and allow them to soften.
3. Add the potatoes to the pot until heated through.
4. Add the remaining ingredients to the pot and bring to a boil. Before it reaches a full, rolling boil, lower the temperature to allow the pot to simmer gently.
5. Simmer an hour (or longer, if desired) to allow the flavors to infuse and the liquid to reduce.
6. Serve with a wedge of lemon.
   

Favorites: Colombien Supremo Brun

There are probably more varieties of coffee beans than there are hairs on a cat, but I think I can confidently say that my favorite brew is the Colombien Supremo Brun from La Pâtisserie de Gascogne in Montreal.

The Gascogne shops look like French bistros, in keeping with their tradition of importing classic French delicacies to the discriminating connoisseurs of Montreal. They have a good selection of breads, extravagant cakes and pastries, gourmet frozen meals, preserves, candies, chocolates, as well as the fine selection of coffees.

Ohhh the coffees. They are all pretty damned good, but the Colombien Supremo Brun is smooth like a Barry White album. It's mild, so it's not meant for those groggy mornings when you need a jolt of caffeine to slap you awake. But on a slow weekend morning, it is a rich indulgence to breathe in the faintly sweet, almost chocolatey aromas and enjoy the silky beverage with a shot of milk.

Favorites: Apple Mustard

As I've written before, I can't resist a farmer's market. It has an energy and color that stirs my culinary imagination.

My first market visit of the season led me to the Brantview Farms stall. The farm (or I should say "orchard"), located in St. George, Ontario, specializes in a wide variety of beautifully grown apples and apple products. A friend pointed out their English Style Apple Mustard.

It was love at first taste. There is a nice hit of spicy, tangy, and sweet flavors. It is firm, but not overpowering. I've had it as a dip with pretzel sticks and pepperettes, I've used it in sandwiches, I've had it with pork sausages... It's only been two weeks but I am already halfway through the jar. Most mustard containers take me a long time to finish. I have a feeling I'll be back at the market for more.

The good-humored Brantview folks will be at Nathan Phillips Square every Wednesday from June until Thanksgiving. Their other market appearances around Ontario are posted online.

Mini Lemon Poppy Muffins

The following is a recipe for Lemon Poppy Muffins that I adapted from a regular muffin recipe, replacing the flour and sugar with oat flour and honey. If you use "uncontaminated" oat flour (i.e. without any trace of gluten) and baking powder, this can be a gluten-free recipe. Make sure to use a mild honey so that the aromas don't overwhelm the light citrus fragrance. This can also work well with lime instead of lemons.

You can make these as regular-sized muffins, but personally I like mini muffins because they're bite-sized and cute. [AP: This is an Option #2 recipe.]

Mini Lemon Poppy Muffins
Makes 24

½ cup oat flour
1 Tbsp baking powder
¼ tsp baking soda
pinch sea salt
3 eggs
¼ cup honey
¼ cup light olive oil
1 Tbsp lemon (or lime) zest
1 Tbsp lemon (or lime) juice (optional)
1 Tbsp poppy seeds

1. Preheat the oven to 350°F.
   
2. In a large bowl, combine the oat flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt.
3. In a smaller bowl, whisk together the eggs, honey, olive oil, citrus zest and juice (optional).
4. Add the wet mixture to the dry and mix together until a smooth batter forms.
5. Stir in the poppy seeds.
6. Fill the muffin cups until slightly below the rim.
7. Bake in the oven for 8-10 min or until puffed up and golden.
   

Happy Father's Day!

It's Father's Day today, and to celebrate the occasion, I sent my Dad an Apple and Walnut Cake via Canada Post. Usually the kind of baked goods that get sent via snail mail are cookies or brownies -- things that kids at summer camps survive on. However, my brother suggested that a cake would be more to our father's taste, so I sought out a suitable recipe.

The Apple and Walnut Cake comes from Nigella Lawson, that saucy, superstar chef from TV. I found it in her "How to Be a Domestic Goddess" cookbook, received as a gift one Xmas. The thing I like about the recipe is that it makes good use of walnut oil (in place of butter) and the end result is a dense, solid cake that can survive for a few days without refrigeration and will withstand the abuses of the postal system.

A wedge of the cake would have been more photogenic, but I couldn't exactly take a piece out of it then mail it to my Dad. My brother reports that the cake has turned out well, although he claims a piece of walnut may be stuck somewhere in his throat. That's what happens when you don't chew, bro.

Anyone Can Cook

I have been profoundly inspired by this man: Mick Trueman of South Yorkshire, England.

He is not a professional chef. He has not inked any best-selling cookbooks. He's not a food writer or a renowned food critic.

Mick, 51, is a coal miner.

So what the hell am I writing about him for? What does he have to do with food or cooking?

My introduction to Mick "the Miner" was on superstar chef Jamie Oliver's most recent TV series, "Jamie Oliver's Ministry of Food", now showing on Canada's The Food Network.

Oliver, that darling of cooking shows, has long been a crusader for improving nutrition and food awareness in his native England. English cuisine -- an oxymoronic term for some -- already suffers from a sullied reputation. Artery-clogging fish and chips, waist-expanding bangers and mash, salty kippers and cholesterol-laden eggs for breakfast, liquor-drenched plum pudding are all tasty inventions for sure, but none of it qualifies as haute cuisine, never mind healthy. It is by unfortunate extension that the Brits are the butt of fat jokes and especially bad teeth jokes (think "Big Book of British Smiles" which the dentist on "The Simpsons" shows to children to terrorize them into taking dental hygiene more seriously).

Jamie Oliver first tried to tackle the national school system, encouraging school cafeterias to prepare healthy, cost-effective meals for children instead of taking the easy (some say lucrative) way out by selling pre-packaged junk food. Now he is trying to take on one town at a time, pitching his "Pass it On" idea: if you teach two people how to cook something easy, delicious and healthy, and if each of the two taught two other people, and if those people taught other people, ... eventually a whole community could learn it. Then maybe, just maybe, it would inspire them to start cooking their own meals using fresh local ingredients, instead of resorting to a diet of take-outs, frozen dinners, potato chips, and other deplorable trash.

To test his theory, he recruited a horde of burly, skeptical blokes from a football (er, "soccer" to us North Americans) game who had never cooked before in their lives. Mick "the Miner" was one of the first two men selected to be taught by Oliver himself: a fast, savory, one-pan recipe for prosciutto-wrapped chicken breasts, seared asparagus spears drizzled with lemon juice, and a crisp side of salad. Click here to view a video of Mick "the Miner" passing on the recipe to two other men as Jamie Oliver looks on.

When asked, Mick had initially declared that cooking was for "poofs" (that's derogatory English slang for "gays"). His dutiful wife cooked for him every day, which seemed a foregone conclusion for a man who assumed it was "woman's work" anyway. Not once in his life had he picked up a frying pan, let alone cooked a whole meal.

Yet as you can see in the video clip, Jamie Oliver's experiment marked a startling revelation and transformation for Mick. He later says to Oliver that cooking that first meal was probably one of the most significant moments of his life: "It was like Picasso had walked into my life and taught me how to paint". The way Mick beams with utter joy and a rich sense of accomplishment every time you see him cook is incredibly infectious. I catch myself grinning ear-to-ear whenever he's on the screen. His wife is touched and amused, trying to stay out of his way in the kitchen and watching him with adoration. "It's incredibly romantic," she says, and you can't help but agree.

After the experiment, Oliver and camera crew followed Mick to the coal mines to see the kind of searing, filthy, back-breaking work that these tough men endure. Apart from the cultural chauvinism about cooking, it became blatantly obvious why these boys wouldn't want to cook after a long, brutal day in the claustrophobic darkness.

Yet Mick has flourished and grown to absolutely love the culinary arts. Just weeks later, he's at home, cooking a pasta dish with peas, ham and a lemon dressing for his family and Jamie Oliver. Mick is fearless, confident and bubbling with enthusiasm over the flavors he has orchestrated for his audience. Oliver asks for seconds. As the celebrity chef leaves, he lets Mick know that in the past 10 years, he has been invited to a home-cooked meal only 5 times -- this being the 5th and a great honor.

Watching Mick "the Miner" is like seeing that thing you love through a fresh pair of eyes that is still in the midst of falling in love. Thank you Mick for your wonderful attitude and spirit!

Sprouting with Joy

I love sprouts. They add a wonderful crunch and herbaceous character to salads, soups, sandwiches, stir fries and on and on. Yet North American supermarkets tend to stock only two kinds: the mung bean sprout commonly found in fast food stir fries, and the grassy alfalfa. Maybe if you're lucky, you'll find pea sprouts at a high end grocery. It's frustrating to read Japanese cooking magazines which feature recipes that incorporate a wide range of sprouts, very few of which I can buy here.

So it was a delight to stumble across a dozen or so (safe) sprouting bean varieties sold in pouches at a health food store. The instructions seemed easy enough. I picked up a packet of Mumm's daikon seeds for my first sprouting attempt.

All I needed was a wide-rimmed jar and some mesh netting fastened to the jar opening with some elastic bands. A teaspoon of seeds were put in. They were soaked for a few hours. Then they were rinsed and drained twice a day, using the mesh as a sieve. In less than a week, I had long, stringy daikon sprouts filling up most of the jar.

Although I expected it, it was still a bit of a surprise that the sprout had so much of the daikon flavor, even in the plant's infancy. I suppose the essence of a thing will usually be present from birth.

I need to get a bigger jar.