IMBB #17: Tea

tea sandwiches à la "...an endless banquet" with Michelle's Genmai Cha sandwich bread
Originally uploaded by michelle1975.

All right,we finally got it together to participate in an Is My Blog Burning? event. We'd been tempted by several IMBBs in the past ("egg" and "orange" come to mind); this one, though, we just couldn't pass up on (even if we are on the road at the moment). Tea has been an important part of our relationship since Michelle put together a "Tea Time with Anthony" tea sampler soon after we met. And these days, tea takes up almost an entire cupboard at our place.

Pictured above is a watercress, smoked salmon, and cream cheese tea sandwich made with genmai cha bread. The bread took a number of tries to get right. Michelle experimented with several different amounts of tea and found that "more is more." She replaced the water in her bread recipe (a recipe for sandwich bread from R.L. Berenbaum's The Bread Bible) with a cup of dry tea steeped in the amount of water called for (3/4 cup). Actually it took a bit more liquid, because the tea swells so you have to compensate for this in order that you end up with 3/4 cup of strong tea. She also kept the toasted rice grains after she steeped the tea and added them to the bread to give it extra flavor and a bit more texture--we also wanted to try and retain genmai cha's distinctive character.

This loaf was inspired by the green matcha bread served by Mariage Freres with some of their tea sandwiches. Our loaf didn't have nearly the color of the Mariage Freres loaf (we have a sneaking suspicion they add a bit of food coloring to their bread), but the main thing is that it was pretty delicious. The tea flavor was subtle (even with that strong batch), but it was certainly present and it went very well with the watercress and the smoked salmon. It's sure to become a standard at our house. Eventually Michelle wants to try a matcha loaf, too.

For our sandwiches, we were dead set on using watercress because our little garden has produced so much this summer and we've been enjoying it so. We first tried a classic watercress sandwich with just watercress and butter, but found that combination a bit on the dull side (although a herbed butter would probably make for a very nice sandwich). We then decided to combine the spiciness of the watercress with some smoked salmon (and just a little bit of cream cheese). This combo was much more to our liking.

Finally, we invited some guests over one afternoon and served our tea sandwiches with Kusmichoff's Troika tea, an old favorite. The setting wasn't the elaborate garden party we'd originally imagined--it was just our living room--but the company was lovely, the tea just as lively as ever, and the sandwiches were a hit.

am/km

It's Sour Cherry Time

sour cherries
Originally uploaded by michelle1975.

Just my luck that they should appear right now. In 24 hours, I will be in California, far away from the perfect sour cherries which call to me from the Jean Talon market. My timing is disastrous.

Our lovely tomatoes are ripening on the vine, including white heirloom ones which I've never tasted, and probably never will. I gave my sister instructions to pick them and eat them, then to write me and tell me what they were like.
The fennel is in flower, as is the coriander. Who will harvest the seeds? And let's not mention the pollen. It's too painful.
My mother's garden is overrun with the plumpest raspberries you've ever seen. I don't have time to do anything about it.
Blackberries, gooseberries, black raspberries, oh, God, the currants. Not them, too.

And I only had enough time to buy a half-flat of sour cherries which I used to make pickled sour cherries and a sour cherry almond preserve. What about my brandied cherries? And cherry syrup? Next year.

This frenzy reminds me of a hilarious passage I recently read in Beverley Nicols' charming book Merry Hall. One summer, he is called away from his house and garden on business. During those few weeks, he calls his manservant, Gaskin, every day to ask how the garden is doing, what is in bloom and does he think it will still be there when he returns. ("Don't you think you should put a bouquet of lilies in the cold room, in case?" He does.)

I hope you all take full advantage of the short sour cherry season in my absence.

What am I talking about? I'm going off on vacation...

m

California, here we come!

Chinatown, San Francisco, Cal.
Originally uploaded by michelle1975.

Things might become a bit more sporadic over the next couple of weeks as we head out to sunny California (!) on vacation, but think of all the things we'll have to write about afterwards...

Oh, and if any of you out there have any tips, food-related or otherwise, for San Francisco and Northern California please send them along. We love tips.

--eds.

Croque Madame, pain Poilane

Croque Madame, pain Poilane
Originally uploaded by michelle1975.

When you walk the streets in Paris, you'll notice that many of the cafes offer Croques Monsieurs or Madames. Like so many other clichés of French cuisine--French onion soup and the French omelet come to mind--most of these spots advertising their Croques Monsieurs and Madames aren't worth a second glance. However, if you're looking for a honest-to-goodness Croque keep your eyes open for those little signs that read "Pain Poilâne."

Poilâne was started in 1932 by Pierre Poilâne, and what distinguished Poilâne bread was its use of stoneground flour and natural leavener at a time when bread baking in France was rapidly moving away from those traditional methods and towards "modern" baking methods. By the immediate post-World War II Poilâne was already completely anomalous in a country that had fully embraced white breads. Pierrre's son Lionel took over the operation beginning in the 1970s and he began to completely overhaul the way Poilâne baked its bread, introducing an extensive number set of changes that he labeled "retro-innovation." Lionel's program combined a deep respect for the tradition of French bread baking borne out of a profound sense of the history of bread baking with a hard, scientific approach to the technical aspects of making and baking bread. I remember reading a long Smithsonian profile on Lionel Poilâne back in the mid-1990s and being fascinated with the kind of improvements he'd made to the firm's traditional ovens. I also remember spending hours contemplating what Poilâne meant when he said that bread was closer to beer than it was to other foods, including baked goods (or at least it should be).

It's safe to say that Lionel Poilâne's program of "retro-innovation" was one of the principal thrusts behind the international resurgence of artisanal sourdough baking over the last quarter of a century. Sadly, Lionel Poilâne passed away a couple of years ago in a helicopter accident. The Poilâne firm has continued to undergo change since his demise. These days the enterprise includes two stores in Paris and a store in London, as well as a mail order service that ships Poilâne's distinctive sourdough loaves all over the world. The simplicity of the original storefront on Rue Cherche-Midi in St-Germain des Près belies the complexity of the operation, but this storefront is still the perfect setting for Poilâne's rustic loaves sold whole, by the half, or by the quarter.

When our friend Camilla asked us if we wanted anything from Paris just before she hopped on a plane to go on vacation there, we put in an order for a quarter loaf from Poilâne. By the time that loaf got to us it was a little worse for wear, but those traditional sourdoughs are a hearty breed and it was still making for the best breakfast toasts you can imagine. But what we most excited about making with our Poilâne loaf were Croque Madames. We got some Gruyère cheese, some nice ham, and some eggs, cooked up our Croque Madames and served them with a salade composée and a couple of beers. It was a little taste of Paris right in our own kitchen and it was heaven. Thank you, Camilla. Thank you, Lionel.

aj

faux pear chez Nonya

Nonya's faux pear
Originally uploaded by michelle1975.

So, the other night a party of three of us went up to the newest incarnation of Nonya, up on Bernard. Nonya started offering up relatively simple Indonesian dishes at a location of St. Laurent down below Sherbrooke a few years back. Our waitress described this as Nonya's "rock & roll" period. They then moved to an ill-fated location on Ste. Catherine just opposite Simon's and the massive Paramount complex. Their menu got more elaborate and their prices went up, but they didn't remain in that location very long. A few months ago now they brought their extensive menu up to an attractive space in Mile End.

We had just finished our Gado-Gado and I had just finished going off on some little spiel about how some of the most important staples in Indonesian cuisine--peanuts and corn, for instance--are actually products indigenous to the New World that only arrived in the "Spice Islands" in the 16th century, but that they've been so thoroughly assimilated that it's as if they'd always been part of the culture (something like peanuts in West Africa), when Mr. S.'s krokett arrived. This was one of the most beautiful creations I've seen in a restaurant in quite some time. Maybe it was because it was so unexpected. Maybe it was because I'm so fond of pears. Whatever the case, we were bowled over by Nonya's faux pear with its Panko-encrusted skin and its sizzled Thai basil stem and leaf. It tasted great, too. The body of the krokett was made up of a mashed potato mixture, with a layer of spiced ground beef near the bottom. It was served in a pool of tamarind-based chutney. Anyway, the funny thing is, upon tasting it I was immediately reminded of the Colombian empanadas I'd had just a few days earlier, even with that Panko coating. It's a small world after all, and it's often a tasty one.

All in all the food we had was quite good--everything from chicken satay to tilapia cooked in banana leaves--but Mr. S. was definitely the big winner that night. Not only did he get that standout krokett but he also ordered Nonya's outrageous roasted Cornish game hen with coconut rice, kecap manis, and stewed chayote.

Nonya also offers a traditional Indonesian rijstafel. You need 2 people minimum, and the prices range from $35 to $55 per person.

They also have a number of vegetarian options on their menu.

Nonya, 151 Bernard West, 875-9998

aj

p.s. Thanks for Mr. S. for the lovely digital pic.--eds.

Beautiful Losers

a beautiful failure
Originally uploaded by michelle1975.

It's not often that I admit defeat in the kitchen. Thankfully, I've gotten to the point where it's not often that there's cause to, but every once in a while...

This was supposed to be a sun-dried strawberry jam, as featured in Chez Panisse's Fruit book. You can find a link to the recipe here. I followed the directions exactly and... Well, in this recipe, the strawberries are cooked briefly with sugar and then left to "dry" in the sun until the syrup thickens into a jam. Apparently, this method results in a particularly flavorful jam, one that truly does justice to the quality of the fruit. I left my concoction out for several days, in full sun, and the syrup got no thicker. I'm not sure what the problem was, but it may have had to do with the relative humidity here the week I made this jam, as opposed to in Berkeley. Whatever the case, by the fourth day I started to fear for my perfect berries. I strained the syrup, added pectin, which I never do, and cooked it to a jell stage. I then added the strawberries and put it into jars.

I added a bit too much pectin. When you hold the jam upside-down, it doesn't even move. We are eating it now, and it's okay, but I can't help but think about what could have been, and what I thought would be. If anyone has had luck with that recipe, please let me know.

m

Just to set the record straight: yes, the jam is a little firmer than I've become accustomed to around here, but it's hardly just "okay." The strawberries + the hybrid method still resulted in one of the best strawberry jams I've ever tasted. Maybe even the best.

aj

Sabor Colombiano

empanada, aji, and arepa con carne
Originally uploaded by michelle1975.

Every year we make a pledge to find out when Colombia's Independence Day is, and every year we forget. You see, Montreal's Colombian community throws an annual fiesta for their Independence Day in Parc Laurier, and it's one of our favorite outdoor celebrations in this "city of festivals," but we can never remember exactly when it's held. We always manage to chance upon it, though, because it's always held on a Sunday, and we're usually playing soccer in Parc Laurier on Sunday afternoons during the summer. Anyway, this Sunday we weren't playing soccer, but we did get a hot tip from Michelle's sister that a fiesta was afoot in Parc Laurier, so we hopped on our bikes and scooted on over to check things out.

We love the Colombian festival because the music's always blaring, everyone's wearing that unearthly shade of amarillo Colombiano (usually in the form of a soccer jersey), it seems like every Colombian family in the entire city is there, and there's lots of tasty treats. This year we didn't have the biggest appetites because we hadn't been playing soccer for 2 hours before showing up, but Michelle hadn't had any lunch and I was in the mood for a snack so we lined up in front of the "Sabor Colombiano" tent and ordered some empanadas and a couple of arepas con carne (they were out of the con queso variety). Of the two, the highlight was the order of Colombian empanadas, which are not at all like Chilean ones. The ones we had came stuffed with potatoes and pork and were deep-fried. The finished product had something almost samosa-like about it. The aji they were served with as a dipping sauce was spicy and garlicky. The verdict: delicious.

We've now committed the date of Colombia's Independence Day to memory: July 20. Next year you can be sure that the Colombian festival we be held in Parc Laurier on the closest Sunday to July 20. See you there.

aj

Tonic

"Spring Borscht" at Batory
Originally uploaded by michelle1975.

Considering just how devoted we are to Euro-Deli Batory, it's really kind of shocking how we've managed to all but ignore them thusfar in "...an endless banquet" (with the exception of a single, measly mention in our Montreal Food Guide). I think we overcompensated, or something, assuming that when we started this blog we'd end up writing every third post about Batory and their amazing homestyle Polish fare. I mean, really, if we're totally honest with ourselves, there's probably no other restaurant that we've frequented as much over the last 4+ years. True, our Batory habit was a weekly one a while back, and we've been going there much more sporadically over the last several months, but our devotion hasn't waned in the least. We're still just as committed to their perogie plates, to their kielbasa with spicy mustard (always the spicy mustard!), to their cole slaw, and to their assortment of borschts. Everything is very authentic, the prices are unbelievably reasonable, and the people who run the restaurant are ridiculously nice.

In the summer, one of our favorite treats is Batory's "Spring Borscht." It's creamy, it's got lots of dill and chives in it, and, best of all, it's cold. Few things taste as good on a hot, muggy summer day. And if you've got some kind of stupid summer cold, like I did last Saturday, all the better. This is all the tonic you'll ever need.

Euro-Deli Batory, 115 St Viateur W., 948-2161

aj

I'm ready for my close-up

noisette et pruneaux
Originally uploaded by michelle1975.

Last week found me biking to an industrial building in Verdun to visit a professional food photo shoot. Les Chèvres' pastry chef, Patrice, was working on the pictures for his cookbook and he invited me to come and have a look. I am glad I did. First of all, the pictures they've done so far are incredible. True, his desserts are beautiful, but God knows a bad picture can ruin a beautiful subject. (And the reverse is also possible: a beautiful picture of a bad subject.) The best thing I learned was all the smoke and mirrors involved with food photography.

Flipping through copies of glossy cookbooks can cause serious lifestyle envy for some. I count myself among those who dream of summering at the Vineyard, hosting clam bakes, and having drinks poolside. I don't even have matching silverware. Gorgeous pictures of food, as seen in said glossy cookbooks, make me feel woefully under-equipped and under-funded. I found the antidote to this affliction in Verdun, or at least the cause.

Entering the space, you feel like you're in a long-forgotten storage unit used by a film production company. The lofts are cavernous and filled with large shelves. These shelves are filled with random things, like pieces of cloth, various glasses, boxes, some hunks of wood... I made my way through the different photo shoots until I reached the kitchen studio. A small table was set up for the plated desserts, surrounded by lights and screens. A huge camera was aimed at a piece of wood set on top of a mauve cloth. It looked so surreal. I couldn't help but look past what was framed by the camera: the wires, the mirrors, the piles of random props.

I took the photo above of the noisette et pruneaux dessert from a different angle than the photographer did. It looks like any old snapshot of a plated dessert. In this case, it's a hazelnut cake with caramelized hazelnuts, poached prunes and, oh-oh, was it chevre ice cream? You get the idea. A classic winter dessert. The picture, once it was taken, was so much more than the sum of its parts. The same hunk of wood and scrap of cloth suggested a rich leather sofa beside a fireplace in fall. You could imagine the cigar smoke lingering, the brandy, the dog sound asleep at the foot of the ottoman... After the Hunt, I called it. It was incredible how much they did with so little. And this was only the first picture.

For the next dessert, the mood changed completely. A few changes to the lighting, surface, and colour evoked a lovely farmhouse in spring. The sun was streaming in through the screened off porch. My mind wandered from the house and into the charming country garden. The peonies which have been there since 1921 bloomed in profusion. The children were always careful not to disturb the flowers.

I watched them take five different photographs, each with its own style. All of it was done with only a few props. Of course their camera was top-of-the-line, but otherwise it was very simple and understated. These people are professionals. They took great pleasure in photographing Patrice's beautiful desserts.

Patrice Demers' book will come out in October. I highly recommend it, both for the recipes and the photographs.

m

Summertime Bounty, pt. 2

medley of tomatoes
Originally uploaded by michelle1975.

OK, so later last Sunday, we regrouped back at home after our fact-finding mission and got busy putting our market finds to good use. At Chez Nino we'd found these beautiful tomatoes in yellow, orange, and a dark purple hue. We asked if we could mix and match these tomatoes and the clerk put together a lovely basket of all three types, taking care to select the very best tomatoes he could find. We tasted them when we got home and decided that we'd use the dark ones for a salad, because they had more body to them, and the yellow and orange ones for a sauce. The salad was a classic tomato and bocconcini salad with basil and balsamic vinegar. The tomatoes were perfectly ripe and outrageously tasty, so you can just imagine how good the whole combo tasted. I took the yellow and orange tomatoes, blanched them, peeled them, and added them to some sauteed new garlic, some herbs, and a dried red pepper, and turned them into a devilishly spicy arrabbiata inspired by our sighting of the Our Lady of Pompeii church earlier that same day. We served the sauce with penne lisce and some crusty bread.

A couple of years ago Michelle had made some absolutely magical stuffed zucchini blossoms for a small dinner party we threw. We decided it would be a good idea to bring back the magic while zucchini blossoms are still in season (note: the season is short), but we couldn't find the recipe Michelle had used the first time around, so Michelle did a little improvising. She stuffed them with chèvre, whipped up a simple beer batter (just beer and flour) and dipped them, and then fried them lightly in oil. If you haven't had stuffed zucchini blossoms, do yourself a favor and try them out. They're really very easy to make, they look like a million bucks, and they make for a fantastic summer appetizer.

Stuffed Zucchini Flowers
Originally uploaded by michelle1975.

Early on in our trip to the market, A. decided that he wanted to make this Roman salad he'd made before. The salad in question is made with fava beans, and when he saw that there were still some fava beans available at the market, he decided we simply had to make this salad. In addition to the fava beans, A. picked up some young asparagus, and then took us on a hunt for aged Pecorino--a hunt that ultimately led us to La Baie des Fromages. When he got to our place, he blanched the fava beans and the asparagus, shelled the beans, julienned the asparagus, added some arugula from our garden, and tossed them together, then finished everything off with some crumbled Pecorino and a light olive oil and balsamic dressing. I'm not exactly sure what this salad is called, so I just called it Mr. G's Insalata Romana. All you really need to know is that it was divine.

Mr. G's Insalata Romana
Originally uploaded by michelle1975.

So our Sunday meal was made up of salads, of pasta, of olives, bread, cheese, and grapes, and then, when it was time to wrap things up, we did so in the only appropriate way: with our fresh strawberries. Michelle had carefully picked through the massive amount of strawberries we purchased and divided them into three groups: those that were fine for making strawberry syrup, those that were right for making strawberry preserves, and those that were so perfect we just had to eat them as is. Actually, in all honesty, there was a fourth group: those that didn't make the cut at all. These strawberries were so good, though, Michelle only found 3 out-and-out rejects in the whole batch. The picture below is of the crème de la crème de la crème. Fittingly, we served them with fresh cream.

strawberries: the pick of the pick of the crop
Originally uploaded by michelle1975.