The Green Chile Variations, pt. 1

 fig. a:  garden-fresh chiles

If I'm totally honest, it all started sometime in the early '90s (!?!), when I took a road trip from Washington, D.C. to the Southwest and back.  Albuquerque was a primary destination, and I spent about a week in New Mexico with good friends, checking out the town, exploring the region, and sampling the local specialties.  That was when I first experienced Green Chile Madness.  Green chile sauces and stews were everywhere, and they were generally very good, and sometimes even phenomenal.  I was particularly enamoured of those green chile salsas and sauces and the way they adorned everything from nachos, to cheese fries, to egg dishes, home fries, and cheeseburgers, taking everything they touched to a higher level.  I quite literally couldn't get enough.

I've thought about New Mexico a lot ever since, and told many a soul about Green Chile Madness, but I've never been back.  And while I'm usually pretty adept at figuring out the recipes for prized dishes and replicating them in my home kitchen, for some reason, when it came to Chile Verde, I let it slip into what Calvin Trillin calls the Register of Frustration and Deprivation, a catalogue of favourite dishes that "rarely seem to be served outside their territory of origin."

About two years ago, however, I set about ushering Green Chile back into my life.  It started with a recipe for Green Chile Stew that appeared in David Tanis' A Platter of Figs And Other Recipes.  Tanis lived in New Mexico for a spell, so he knows his stuff, and he describes Green Chile Madness thusly:

In northern New Mexico, green chile stew is legendary.  Everybody makes it, everybody eats it, and everybody loves it, even if everybody makes a different version--with or without potatoes, or tomatoes, or cumin, or tomatillos, or cilantro, but never without a healthy amount of green chile.

Evidently he caught the bug bad--he claims to have traveled "with a handful of fresh chiles in [his] pocket" ever since, as a form of "culinary insurance" (for perking up bland dishes in chile-deprived regions of the world).

These days, you can find green chile stews and sauces across New Mexico at any time of year--it was April when I experienced my Green Chile Revelation.  But the chile harvest, as Tanis explains, is in the fall.  It's at this time of year that you find, people buying big bags of them, then lining up "to have them roasted by entrepreneurial chile roasters who set up in supermarket parking lots or at roadside stands."  It's the grilling of the green chiles that really makes the difference--it's that smokiness and that caramelization that you get from roasting them over an open fire that takes things to a higher level.

Anyway, Tanis' Green Chile Stew was probably the very first thing I made out of A Platter of Figs--I had very high hopes and I wasn't disappointed.

 fig. b:  green chile stew 1

Green Chile Stew 

5 pounds well-marbled boneless pork butt, cut into 2-inch cubes
salt and pepper
2 tbsp vegetable oil or lard
2 large onions, finely diced
4 to 6 garlic cloves, chopped
2 tsp cumin seeds, toasted and finely ground
1/2 cup chopped tomatoes, fresh or canned
6 large carrots, peeled and chunked
1 cup chopped roasted green chiles*
2 tbsp all-purpose flour
8 cups water or chicken broth
3 lbs russet potatoes, peeled and cut into large dice
chopped cilantro
hot corn or flour tortillas 

Season the pork with salt and pepper.  Heat the oil or lard in a large Dutch oven or other heavy-bottomed pot.  Add the meat, in several batches, without crowding, and brown it lightly.  Transfer to a platter or tray. 

Add the onions to the pot and brown them.  Add the garlic, cumin, tomatoes, carrots, and green chiles, then sprinkle the flour over and stir.  Salt the mixture, then return the browned meat to the pot and stir well.  Cover with the water or broth and bring to a boil. 

Cover the pot, turn the heat to low, and simmer gently for an hour. 

Taste the broth and adjust it, adding salt or more green chile as necessary.  The broth should be well seasoned and fairly spicy.  Add the potatoes and continue cooking for 30 minutes, or until the potatoes are soft and the meat is quite tender.  Skim any fat from the surface of the broth. 

Let the stew rest for an hour or more.  Refrigerate overnight if desired (this allows the flavours to meld even more). 

To serve, reheat the stew and ladle into warmed bowls.  Sprinkle with chopped cilantro and accompany with hot tortillas. 

Serves 8 to 10. 

* Tanis notes that it takes about 12 large fresh chiles to produce 1 cup of chopped roasted chiles.  It's preferable to grill them over an open fire, but you can also blacken them under the broiler or directly over a gas burner, in a pinch.

Now, this makes for an excellent stew, and, like I said, I wasn't disappointed in the least.  But as Tanis mentioned above, one of the things about Green Chile Madness is that "everybody makes a different version."  Over the last couple of years, I've continued to follow the guidelines of Tanis' recipe, but I've come up with my own take on Green Chile Stew.

• For one thing, we're hard pressed to find New Mexico green chiles here in the Montreal region, so I've had to improvise with the chiles.  I tend to use a mix of green chiles, one that includes everything from Poblanos, Anaheims, and Padróns, to Serranos, Jalapeños, and Cubanelles.  The larger, milder ones (the Poblanos, Anaheims, and Cubanelles) I grill over an open fire.  The hotter ones I sauté with the onions, after they've been browned
• I've taken to replacing the tomatoes with tomatillos, especially around this time of year, when you can actually find lovely, local tomatillos here in Montreal (try the Birri Brothers stand at Jean-Talon Market).  I also use quite a bit more than half a cup.  The tomatillos give the stew tartness, additional sweetness, and a wonderful mouthfeel.
• I always use chicken broth and not water.
• I've taken to omitting the potatoes, which I find distract from the green chiles.
• And I always replace the all-purpose flour with masa harina, which adds to the warmth of the dish.

Tanis prefers his Green Chile Stew "in a bowl, with warm, thick corn tortillas on the side," but it's also pretty great with good tortilla chips (see below), and it's great in a burrito.

 fig. c:  green chile stew 2

END OF PART ONE

aj

The One and Olney

 fig. a:  tending the garden

I think it's safe to say that we, here at "...an endless banquet," have a certain affection for the late Richard Olney.  We never had the pleasure of meeting him, sadly, but we've developed quite a relationship with him through his books--they just contain so much character, so much passion, so much savoir-faire, not to mention a philosophy of life that we'd like to think we share.  From The French Menu Cookbook (voted #1 cookbook of all time (!) by the Observer Food Monthly in 2010) and Simple French Food, to mass-market ventures like his The Good Cook series for Time/Life Books and his Provence:  The Beautiful Cookbook, we never cease to be amazed by their enthusiasm and their erudition. Plus, he lived such a life--a life that brought him into contact with luminaries in the fields of literature, film, and art, a life of bohemianism and gastronomy, of total dedication to the culinary arts and the "divine alchemy" of wine.  And then there's his status as godfather to both the Californian cuisine of Chez Panisse and the natural wine connoisseurship of Kermit Lynch.

Alice Waters has written that she remembers every detail of her first visit to Olney's Provençal home in Solliès-Toucas:  the olive trees, the cicadas, the wild herbs, Olney's ever-so-casual gardening attire ("Richard received us wearing nothing but an open shirt, his skimpy bathing suit, a kitchen towel at his waist, and a pair of worn espadrilles."), and his ever-present Gauloise.  What stuck with her the most, however, was the memory of a "spectacular salad" that Olney served that day, "full of Provençal greens that were new to me--rocket, anise, hyssop--with perfectly tender green beans and bright nasturtium flowers tossed in, and dressed with the vinegar he makes himself from the ends of bottles of great wines."  Simple French food, indeed.

Sometimes we imagine ourselves arriving at Solliès-Toucas to dine on one of Olney's legendary meals (which were known to induce "a kind of ecstatic paralysis"), drink deeply, converse long into the night, and dance until dawn.

 fig. b:  "fireplace at Solliès"

Other times, we fantasize about Olney's phenomenal kitchen with its hand-built hearth and its copper pots.

 fig. c:  the good cook does wine

Then there are times when we dream about discussing and practicing "the art of intelligent choice" with Olney.

Not only have we been known to dedicate special meals to Olney, but we often base decisions upon whether we think "Richard" would approve or not, especially when it comes time to throwing a party.

Well, it's time to celebrate the one and only Richard Olney once again.  Now's the time.  It's the height of harvest season, and many of the vegetables, fruits, and herbs that Olney adored are at their peak.

As you may know, Michelle and Seth have dedicated the month of September at FoodLab to Olney's beloved Provence.  You may also know that their frequent partner in crime, Theo Diamantis, of Oenopole, is something of a specialist when it comes to the wines of Provence, the southern Rhône, and Corsica, including Olney's beloved Bandols.  Are you starting to catch my drift?  Good, because next Tuesday, September 25, the third floor of the Sociéte des Arts Technologiques will be the site another phenomenal FoodLab/Oenopole co-production:  an Homage to Richard Olney.

The menu has been devised, the wines have been selected, and Michelle will only say that the evening promises to be "grandiose."  (Details to follow...)  So you won't have to resort to desperate measures.

fig. d:  desperate measures

Unlike some of Michelle's past collaborations, there'll be no fixed seatings for this particular menu and no reservations will be taken.  In other words, you'll be able to show up at any time between 5pm and 10pm, and you'll be able to order as little or as lot as you like, but, remember, this is a one night only affair.

An Homage to Richard Olney
FoodLab
Sociéte des Arts Technologiques
1201 St-Laurent Blvd
September 25, 2012
5:00 p.m. - 10:00 p.m.
(you can find the Facebook page for this event here, if you're into that kind of thing, but I'm pretty sure "Richard" would be disdainful of your dependence on the social media*)

aj

* Ha, ha...

Top Ten #46

1.  Kamouraska

2.  David Grann, "The Yankee Comandante:  A Story of Love, Revolution, and Betrayal," The New Yorker, May 28, 2012



3.  Bill Fay, Life is People (Dead Oceans)





4.  cottage weekends





5.  green chile summer

6.  Ian Frazier, Travels in Siberia





7.  more summer swimming & picnicking

8.  Cat Power, "Cherokee" + "Ruin" (Matador)



9.  Coq Asian

 

10.  Omnivore Montreal 2012

aj

Kindred spirits

 fig. a:  June garlic

Ah, sweet memories of a summer's night in Provence...

AEB's coverage of Michelle, Natasha, and Theo's Le Grand Aïoli/A Provençal Summer Feast at Alexandraplatz made it into Kinfolk Magazine's online journal.  The post comes complete with lots of lovely new photographs (new to me, at least), too, including a really nice one of Michelle.

It's hard to believe it's already been two months since that feast.  The photographs make it feel like it was just the other day.  They also make me wish there was another grand aïoli on the horizon.

 fig. b:  August garlic

Good thing the late-summer garlic harvest is already upon us.

Good thing Michelle and Seth's Provence menu is just around the corner (!).

Stay tuned...

In the meantime, you might want to read this 2010 Guardian article on paying a pilgrimage to Richard Olney's former home in Provence to get yourself in the mood.  And/or you can take a look at this post from the AEB archives about Olney, Lulu, and Domaine Tempier.

aj

Omnivore 'r' us

 fig. a:  welcome to the pleasuredome

It all looks so calm, so peaceful, so reassuring, but over the last few days there was a veritable hive of activity under the Société des arts technologiques' mysterious dome.

You'll remember that when we last interacted Omnivore was just on the verge of getting underway.  You'll also remember that while Omnivore's series of "maudits soupers" was intended to create a ripple effect of culinary collaboration and experimentation across the city of Montreal, the Société des arts technologiques, and its Foodlab in particular, was slated to be Omnivore Montreal's ground zero.

Three days of workshops took place there, a great deal of the prep work for both the workshops and the dinners was conducted there, and the Foodlab was the site of a closing night dinner, pairing the talents of Les Grès' Jérome Bigot and the Foodlab's Seth and Michelle, as well as an after-hours bash for all those who participated in putting together the Montreal leg of Omnivore's World Tour 2012.  That's a significant amount of hustle and bustle for a kitchen that features virtually no modern conveniences (convection oven? sous-vide machine? Pacojet?), uses home-use electric ranges exclusively (natural gas?), and consists of a staff of three.

It was quite a wild ride, but one that was by turns illuminating, sometimes even breathtaking, and frequently inspiring, and it succeeded in forging what will surely turn out to be important links between chefs and gastronomes in Montreal, Europe, and beyond, as well as exposing Montreal's food-obsessed to a new, more interactive kind of food festival, one that looks likely to be a recurring proposition.

There are certainly more extensive reports on Omnivore Montreal 2012 to be found elsewhere, but here are just a few personal impressions focused on Michelle's involvement with the festival:

On Sunday Michelle gave her workshop on the topic of memory, fantasy, strawberries, and the nature of dessert.

 fig. b:  black pepper, strawberries

She created two strawberry desserts for the event, both of them "simple," both of them designed to end a meal on a suitably light and refreshing note.  The first was a sour cream panna cotta with candied celery, a mixed herb granité (parsley, mint, basil, verbena), and strawberries.

The second was her dreamy Bohemian Rhapsody, a dessert that she created when she was still at Laloux and that was featured in the Gazette's "Strawberry Smackdown" last summer, and whose conception I described in some detail in a post at around the same time.  In case you've forgotten, it went something like this:

If you haven't had the pleasure of hearing Michelle describe the dessert herself, it all started with stories her mother used to tell her about summertime in Czechoslovakia. It seems that instead of summer camp, Czech kids used to be carted off to these summer work camps where they'd spend a couple of weeks picking hops as part of the national beer-making effort. 

Summer work camps? Nationalized industries? Doesn't sound like a lot of fun, does it? Except that apparently it was.

The kids were out of the city and in the countryside, they were camping, and they were relatively unsupervised. There was music every night, there were songs and dancing, and there was no shortage of summer intrigue, and a fair bit of summer romance, too. There were also strawberries--lots and lots of wild strawberries--and flowers.

Michelle loved hearing these stories (she still does!), especially because her mother would get so animated when she told them (she still does!). They were/are clearly among her mother's fondest memories.

Anyway, earlier this year, before strawberry season even began, Michelle came up with the idea of creating a dessert that would capture elements of these remembrances of Czech summers past. There would definitely be hops, of course--the most floral she could find. There would also be strawberries and flowers--an homage to the wild strawberries and the wildflowers that grew alongside the hops in the Czech countryside. There would be malt--another nod to the art of making beer. And there would by rye--Michelle imagined rye crumbs mingling with the hops and the strawberries and the wildflowers after the Czech youngsters had had their lunches in the fields.

 fig. c:  celery, hops

This was exactly the story that Michelle described to the audience at her workshop, but she used it to talk about her creative process, and to reflect upon dessert's nature, on the dichotomy between desserts that are based in fantasy and those that are based in memory (whether personal or collective), and how on occasion desserts can find their inspiration in both.

 fig. c:  Michelle 360º

She also decided that additional visuals were in order, so we drew up a leaflet to provide audience members with some important primary texts.  The four texts in question looked like this:

  fig. 1:  strawberry picking in Czechoslovakia

It was late in the evening when Philip arrived at Ferne. It was Mrs. Athelny’s native village, and she had been accustomed from her childhood to pick in the hopfield to which with her husband and her children she still went every year. Like many Kentish folk her family had gone out regularly, glad to earn a little money, but especially regarding the annual outing, looked forward to for months, as the best of holidays. The work was not hard, it was done in common, in the open air, and for the children it was a long, delightful picnic; here the young men met the maidens; in the long evenings when work was over they wandered about the lanes, making love; and the hopping season was generally followed by weddings.  --Of Human Bondage, CXVIII (pg. 543), W. Somerset Maugham

fig. 2:  a fortuitous quote

  fig. 3:  a page from Michelle's journal

 fig. 4:  Michelle & co.

I was hardly the most objective of observers, but her presentation--her reminiscences and commentary, her demo, her leaflet--appeared to have really struck a chord with the audience, and the fact that she served individual portions of her Bohemian Rhapsody to each and every attendee didn't hurt either.  In fact, it helped to create a mob scene after her talk.

 fig. e:  after the demo

Later that night, on our way to a "maudit souper" at Sardine, we had a chance run-in with a long-lost friend who was visiting from Toronto.  We did the standard 5-minute check-up, catching up on the highlights of the last few years, including Michelle's move to the Foodlab, and, completely unprompted, our long-lost friend brought up our post about the Bohemian Rhapsody and how its tale of childhood romance in the hop fields of Communist Czechoslovakia had nearly brought him to tears (!).  "Wow, funny you should mention that," I said, "because Michelle just finished giving a public talk on just that very topic."  Afterwards, I made a joke that I'd only had to pay him $50 for him to stage this unexpected encounter, but, really, his timing was impeccable, and Michelle marched onwards towards Sardine with a new spring in her step.

A day later, Ève Dumas singled out Michelle's talk as one of the highlights of the festival in the pages of La Presse (!!).  Commenting on the strength of the Montreal contingent's demos over the weekend, Dumas wrote:

La palme revient à Mme Marek, qui a donné un sens nouveau a l'expression galvaudée qu'est "cuisine d'émotion."  "Un travail sur la mémoire et le fantasme, avec des fraises," était la description que las chef du Foodlab avait faite de sa présentation la semaine dernière.  Et hier, c'était exactement ça.

Partant d'un souvenir d'enfance sublimé, Michelle Marek a préparé en direct un dessert aux fraises, avec granité de houblon, crème fouettée et crumble de pain de seigle qui évoquait l'enfance de sa mère en Tchéchoslovaquie communiste.  À la fin de la démonstration, une cinquantaine de spectateurs émus voulaient connaître le goût des fantasmes de Michelle Marek qui, par chance, avait prévu une petite portion pour tout le monde.

Michelle had even more spring in her step after she discovered that write-up.  It gave her the boost she needed to face up to a huge day.

And, finally, last night, Omnivore Montreal 2012 came to its inevitable conclusion with two more seriously hot tickets:  les Frères Folmer of Couvert Couvert (Heverlee, BE) with Marc-André Jetté and Patrice Demers at Les 400 Coups and Bigot/Gabrielse/Marek (organ, drums, guitars) + Oenopole's Theo Diamantis (wines and vocals) at the Foodlab.  Unfortunately, we missed out on the festivities on rue Notre-Dame, for obvious reasons, but the collaboration between Team Les Grès, Team Foodlab, and Team Oenopole resulted in a lovely menu with real moments of magic, the highlight of which was probably the main course:  a marinated and grilled pork échine with onions served four ways (scallion purée, charred scallion oil, grilled scallions, and an onion cream) and a pork jus.

 fig. f:  pork plates

It was as striking as it was tasty, and it was one of those dishes that you wanted to just keep reappearing each time you cleaned your plate.  I could have easily had one for dessert, too.

 fig. g:  pork & onions

All things must come to an end, though, right?*

A few hours later, the guests had departed, the chefs had returned, and there was nothing left to do but drink, dance, play ping pong, and reminisce about the weekend.

aj

* with the exception of AEB.

Omnivore! Live at Montreal!!

 fig. a:  Hello, Montreal!

Remember when we told you about Omnivore way back in July, and how Omnivore's World Tour 2012 was going to be blowing through town in mid-August, bringing their "join the young cuisine" movement and their appetite for creation-destruction with them?  Well, guess what?  It's mid-August, people, and that time is nearly upon us.  The Omnivore crew, and their entire cast of European chefs and other gastro-provocateurs, is just about to descend upon Montreal.

Still haven't acted?  Need some additional convincing?  Well, not surprisingly, there's been a rash of local press about this imminent invasion.  So if you don't trust AEB (?!), may I direct you toward the following two authorities:

--Ève Dumas, "Festival Omnivore:  Montréal à croquer," in this past weekend's La Presse [en français]

--Natasha Pickowicz, "Omnivore food festival goes global with stop in Montreal this weekend," in today's Montreal Gazette [en anglais]

Ms. Dumas' article is particularly extensive and includes all kinds of helpful tips, but my favorite quote shows up at the end of Ms. Pickowicz's article, and it comes courtesy of Michelle:

Unlike the Festival en Lumière, which takes place in the dead of winter, the Omnivore Food Festival makes its debut in Montreal right at the peak of the lush harvest season. “Festival en Lumière is such a well-respected and well-funded festival, but when the visiting chefs come and you have to show them your local products, you’re like, ‘I’m sorry,’” Marek laughs. ”This time, we can really show them what this region is all about.”

Indeed.  Any initiative that encourages visitors to come and visit our fair and frosty city during the winter, as well as Montrealers to stay put, is a good one in our books.  But it's one thing for local chefs to embrace our Nordic culture, it's a whole other thing to force visiting chefs to deal with it.

See you this weekend!

aj

Don't let it slip you by, pt. 2

 fig. a:  lake girl 1

If you do have the means to get out of town:  get thee to a lake.  If you can spend a night or two there, all the better.  Just make sure to bring plenty of food and drink.  And lots of reading material.

 fig. b:  lake girl 2

 fig. c:  lake girl 3

Keep the wine flowing.

 fig. d:  rosé 1

 fig. e:  rosé 2

Eat with regularity.

In both cases, focus on quality over quantity, although the idea is to celebrate summer, so there's no point in being stingy.

As much as possible, keep things simple.  You'll find that the dishes that are the most elemental will also often be the most memorable ones.

It doesn't get any more elemental than Padrón peppers, which have been a sensation from Spain to California for years, and which are finally making their presence known in Quebec, thanks in no small measure to the Birri Brothers at Jean-Talon market.

 fig. f:  padróns 1

 fig. g:  padróns 2

Pan-fried Padróns 

Padrón peppers
bacon fat or olive oil
kosher salt
limes
Heat the bacon fat or olive oil over medium to medium-high heat in a large pan or skillet.  When the fat begins to smoke, add as many peppers as will fit comfortably.  Sear them until they are just nicely charred.  Toss liberally with kosher salt.  Place on a serving platter and add a squeeze of lime juice.  Serve immediately.  Devour while hot.   

Padrón peppers generally aren't hot, they're pretty mild, but they do have some heat to them, and occasionally you might encounter one that might make your lips tingle.  Maybe even one that makes you sweat.   We call this game Spanish Roulette.  

Serve as a side or as a snack.

Bring a charcoal barbecue, too, if you can.  There's nothing more elemental than fuel (wood, all-natural charcoal, all-natural briquets) and fire.  And if you can find choice oysters in sufficient quantities before you head out to the country, you're really in luck.

  fig. h:  rosé 3 w/ grilled oysters

Grilled Oysters 

fresh choice oysters
parsley
chives
garlic chives
scallions
hickory-smoked bacon
sharp cheddar cheese 

Shuck the oysters, severing the muscle and making sure to spill as little liquor as possible.   

Fry up the bacon until crisp.  Keep about one rounded tablespoon full of the bacon fat in your skillet, pouring the rest in a jar for a later use.  Mince the fried bacon into bits.  [3 strips of bacon made enough bits for 36 oysters.] 

Chop the scallions and the herbs and sauté them in the bacon fat until wilted.  Toss with the bacon bits. [4 scallions, 1/3 bunch of parsley, 1/2 bunch of chives and garlic chives made plenty enough for 36 oysters.] 

Spoon a little of the herb mixture into each oyster. 

Top with grated cheddar cheese. 

Grill over a hot charcoal fire until the cheese has melted. 

Serve immediately.  Savour.

I usually make my Mexican-style corn pretty tricked out:  lime mayonnaise with premium chili powder (freshly toasted and ground); fresh cheese; aged cheese; cilantro; and grated radishes.  But even this stripped-down version is sensational if you start with great corn and you grill your cobs just so.

 fig. i:  grilling corn

Grilled Corn 

fresh sweet corn, preferably Grade A Quebec
mayonnaise
limes
Tabasco sauce
salt 

Shuck the corn completely.   

Mix your lime mayonnaise.  Add enough lime juice to make it just a bit looser than a regular mayonnaise.  Add salt and Tabasco sauce to taste. 

Place the corn cobs directly over a medium-hot charcoal fire.  No need to keep the husk on.  No need to soak the corn in anything.  No need to brush it with any substances.  Being careful not to scorch your corn, roast the cobs over the fire.  Rotate them from time to time.  Don't worry about cooking them completely evenly.  It's okay if some portions are slightly more charred than others.  This will only add to the taste sensation. 

When the cobs have been cooked on all sides, remove from the grill and slather with the lime mayonnaise.   

Allow to cool for about a minute, then serve while still hot. 

Repeat as needed.

[If you don't believe this method works, check out this video.  I used to fuss around with my corn cobs before I grilled them, and they often turned out great, but Mark "The Minimalist" Bittman made a convert out of me.]

As Michelle put things recently, "18 wines, 4 people, 2 days, 1 lake = perfect weekend."

80 Padrón peppers, 36 oysters, 20 eggs, 18 ears of corn, 2 briskets, 2 racks of ribs, and 1 pound of bacon didn't hurt either.

With this much fun built into your weekend, you won't even care if there's a little rain.

 fig. j:  did someone say "rain"?

Go swimming anyway.  You might stay in long enough to see a truly celestial display of light.

We did.

aj

Don't let it slip you by, pt. 1

Yes, it is the summer of 2012.  And, yes, it's important to not let this summer (or any other) slip you by, especially when you live in a nordic country.*

 fig. a:  preparations were made

If you don't have the means to get out of town:  eat al fresco as much as possible, and if you can do so in the proximity of an outdoor ping pong table, all the better.  You'll have to bring your own paddles (BYOP), as well as your own table tennis balls, and you may have to wait your turn (God knows outdoor ping pong has its dedicated followers), but if you pack yourself a nice picnic and you lubricate the proceedings with a sufficient amount of chilled whites and rosés, you'll find the results most agreeable.  You may want to bring your pétanque set to amuse yourself during intermissions, but this step is purely optional.  You may also want to bring your swimsuit--there may very well be a pool nearby to help you beat the heat.**

Recommended meal:  salade niçoise with a crusty loaf of bread + tomato and ricotta tartinades.

Recommended bottle:  Thymiopoulos Vineyards' 2011 rosé de xinomavro

Basic Salade Niçoise*** 

height-of-season salad greens
height-of-season tomatoes
high-quality olive-oil-packed tuna
high-quality olives of your choosing, like picholines
hard-boiled eggs
gently poached green beans, preferably those French-style skinny ones
boiled new potatoes
extra-virgin olive oil and balsamic vinegar
salt and freshly ground black pepper 

Make sure your green beans have been poached to perfection.  They should crisp-tender.  Make sure your potatoes are boiled just-so.  You don't want them mushy.  You can use the same pot of boiling water for both, but, for heaven's sake, don't cook them at the same time.

Assemble the salads on your plates out of the first seven ingredients listed above.  Dress each salad individually by eye and/or according to taste.  Salt and pepper each salad as you wish. 

Tomato and Ricotta Tartinades 

baguette
fresh ricotta
height-of-season tomatoes
extra-virgin olive oil
salt and freshly ground black pepper 

Tear off pieces of a crusty baguette.  Split them in two.  Slather them with ricotta.  Top them with slices of tomato or halved cherry tomatoes.  Dress with a drizzle of olive oil, salt, and pepper.

You've eaten and drunk well.  You've worked up a mild sweat playing ping pong.  Haven't you done enough?  Take yourself out for ice cream, perhaps after a dip in the pool.

aj

* Formerly nordic?  

** You can find all three of these features (the outdoor ping pong tables, the pétanque courts, and the swimming pool) at Parc Laurier in the Laurier Village neighborhood of Montreal.  On weekday evenings, admission to the pool is FREE.

*** The true salade niçoise is a hotly debated topic in some parts of the world.  This version puts an emphasis on ease and immediacy over authenticity, while insisting on the best of ingredients.  Now is the time!

Coq-la-la!, rev. ed.

What is up, Montreal?  Baby's on fire.

The momentum's been building for a few years now, but, rather suddenly, after years and years of outright persecution, street food is cropping up all over the place.  You could find it along Ste-Catherine, in the heart of the Quartier des Spectacles, during the Festival Juste Pour Rire, where it was getting star billing.  You can find it in Place de la Paix, where it's been accompanying a series of films and DJs (and will be until the end of August).  You've been able to find it at Parc Olympique where the Association de Restaurateurs de Rue du Québec have been holding street food shindigs on the first Friday of every month all summer long (check out the August edition, the last one of the summer, tomorrow).  You can find it in our food courts and at our outdoor markets.  And now you can get one of the classics of the global street food phenomenon, Vietnamese bánh mì, delivered right to your doorstep.

In all of these cases, we're not talking about third-rate carny dreck (as much as I like a good batch of funnel cake)--we're talking about street food staples, both North American and international, that have been carefully sourced and prepared.  And the same holds true for this latest venture, the cheekily named Coq Asian, which pools the talents of a couple of local line cooks and one of our favourite local coffee gurus, to bring you the bánh mì you've been dreaming of all these years (you know, the one with the quality bread, the top-notch ingredients, and the ultra-fresh preparation) plus some pretty amazing iced Vietnamese coffee (made with locally roasted beans!).

 fig. a:  nice package!

We were pretty psyched by just the look of our duo of grilled beef, green peppercorn, and chilli bánh mìs with "white" cold-brewed Vietnamese coffees (which came in mason jars!).

 fig. b:  bánh me!

We were way more psyched when we actually bit into that bánh mì--the beef was plentiful, rosy, perfectly grilled, and spicy-tangy, the condiments were fresh.  And we were even more psyched when the jolt of that Vietnamese coffee kicked in.

Coq Asian is only in operation Fridays through Sundays.  You can get in touch by following them on Facebook and/or Twitter.  Place your orders early.  They sold out on weekend #1.  And keep in mind that their range is limited--we were able to get our order delivered downtown, but, for the moment, their focus is on the Plateau/Mile End.

Like the proverbial crooning rooster, we're proud to sing the praises of Coq Asian.

And keep the street food coming!  Who knows, maybe we'll soon have Tamale Ladies strolling through our late-night establishments and wood-burning pizza trucks popping up on our rues, avenues, and boulevards.  Maybe we'll start hosting full-on street food festivals!

aj

p.s.  Update:  you'll be happy to know that Coq Asian's quality control is excellent--we've only missed one week since they started up, and we haven't been disappointed yet.  Not even close.  And the next time they do their Vietnamese meatball sandwich, like they did this past weekend (Aug. 17-9), do not miss it!  That was by far and away the best meatball bánh mì I've had in a very long time.

BBQ Bash

 fig. a:  invitation to a social

From the time we received our invitation, we couldn't wait to make our way down to the Catskills for this year's summer social.  Actually, even before we received our invitation we were pretty giddy with anticipation.  Just the thought of smoking those Fleisher's pork shoulders was enough to get us excited.  When we factored in the summer cordials, the musical entertainment, the swims in nearby creeks, rivers, falls, and swimming holes, and (especially) the company, we found ourselves prone to sudden bursts of uncontrolled and enthusiastic exclamation.

"I can't wait!"

"Yes!"

"Slow & low, baby!"

"Summer 2012!"

"Boof!"

 fig. b:  the list

We knew this wasn't going to be a cake walk, though.  There going to be dozens upon dozens of guests--discerning ones, too--so we knew we had to be on the ball.  That's why we came armed with lists, and schedules, and hard-to-find ingredients, and tools.

When we arrived, things were pretty mellow, though.

 fig. c:  afternoon shadows

We put our things down and took a look around.

 fig. d:  turkey coop

Coolers had yet to be filled with ice.

 fig. e: mud room

Lanterns had yet to be filled with fuel.

 fig. f: photo studio/bandstand

And the outdoor photo studio/bandstand was vacant.

 fig. g:  welcome to Smokey Mountain!

I was especially excited because I had a new toy to play with.  Instead of the battery of Weber One-Touch grills I'd used in the past, I had a brand-new Weber Smokey Mountain smoker at my disposal.

By the day of the party, though, we were totally prepared.  We'd done all the necessary shopping.  We'd prepped all the food we could.  We'd tidied up and decorated.  I'd run a smoker test to season that Smokey Mountain.  It was showtime.

 fig. h:  me & Willie

So I got up at the break of day, put on my lucky barbecue t-shirt, fired up the smoker, and made some coffee.

 fig. i:  red sandals diaries

Meanwhile, Michelle put on her dancing shoes, and then we started finalizing this year's menu.

Hours later, this was what we served:

3 x 12-lb Fleisher's pork shoulders, applewood-smoked and pulled  

8x racks of MO-style ribs

Martin's potato rolls 

AJ's Down East baked beans 

Smokehouse potato salad 

Tidewater coleslaw 

Poor man's caviar

Baked cheese grits 

Sweet tea

Michelle's peach and raspberry cobbler with Graeter's vanilla ice cream 

This may very well have been the best version of the bbq social we've yet to orchestrate (the 7-hour ribs were pure candy; the 14-hour shoulder was a deeply lacquered work of art, and it made the smokiest and most tender pulled pork we'd yet to achieve).  It certainly was the craziest.  Guests arrived in unprecedented numbers, and they arrived hongry.  When we started serving, food was disappearing at such a rate that we could barely keep up, prompting a flurry of GoogaMooga jokes.  But then things began settle down again, as they do, and people began to mellow out again as their focus shifted from just FOOD, to a combination of FOOD, DRINK, MUSIC, SOCIALIZING, and so on.

 fig. j:  as the band began to play

And then a stripped-down, two-man version of Golden Bones began to play.

 fig. k:  bravo!

And they played with passion and conviction.  And the crowd was appreciative.

 fig. l:  engagement ring*

And then a couple of lovebirds got engaged, right there in the outdoor photo booth, and the crowd went wild.

 fig. m:  bonfire

And when night fell, the bonfire was lit up, and that's when things turned appropriately bacchanalian.  And the fireflies sparkled all around us, and the music throbbed, and the party lasted deep into a warm summer's night.

----

One major new addition to this year's menu was the batch of cheese grits.  We considered making mac & cheese instead, but ultimately settled on the cheese grits.  People go crazy when they have cheese grits.  Those who've had them know to load up on 'em.  Those who haven't experience something quasi-religious.  There's something pretty exotic about them for a lot of Northerners, and we had several people who said the grits were the best thing they'd ever tasted (!).

Baked Cheese Grits 

2 eggs, beaten
3/4 cup grated sharp hickory-smoked cheddar cheese (just use sharp cheddar cheese if you can't find a premium hickory-smoked cheddar)
4 tbsp butter, melted
2 tsp dry mustard
1/2 tsp salt
1 clove garlic, finely minced
2 cups cooked grits, still warm (purists will likely scoff, but we recommend using quick grits for a recipe such as this) 

Preheat your oven to 350º.  Butter a 4-6 cup casserole dish. 

Mix the eggs, cheese, butter, mustard, salt, and garlic.  Stir this mixture into the warm grits and then pour it into the prepared casserole dish. 

Bake uncovered for 50 minutes.  Serve immediately direct from the casserole. 

Serves 4-6 (we obviously made a much, much larger batch for our group of 100+ guests) 

[based very closely on a recipe that appeared in Jane & Michael Stern's Popular Plates:  BBQ in 2010]

Remember:  it's summer, people.  2012.  Don't let it slip you by.

aj

p.s.  Sincerest congratulations to Paige and Thomas.  True love!

p.s. 2  And extra-special thanks to our host, Stephen!

* I wish I could take credit for this one, but this amazing ring/s/Coke/nails photograph comes courtesy of Travis Blue Photo.