It has been well established that our planet produces enough food for all of our seven billion plus humans. If you take the number of calories produced and divide by the number of people, there are more than enough calories available to satisfy the requirements of everyone. The fact that many people in the world are malnourished is due, then, to a problem of distribution. While many attempts are made to improve the distribution of the food supply, both by governments and NGOs (Non-governmental organizations), many people worldwide do not get the nutrition they require to function properly. The United Nations estimates that more than one billion people suffer from hunger.
The latest edition of the magazine Foreign Policy is devoted entirely to food: “Inside the geopolitics of a hungry planet.” I highly recommend this issue to anyone interested in understanding more about the enormously complex issue of food. Enormously complex? Surely the solution to hunger is simple: “give poor people access to more food!” The articles in Foreign Policy point out just how wrong that simple solution may be.
Sad experience has demonstrated that handing out food to impoverished people creates a dependency on the handouts and actually destroys whatever local agricultural production exists. Even providing seed and agricultural implements is risky, since that, too, creates a dependency. On the other hand, letting people starve while they figure out how to feed themselves sustainably is not a humane option, especially in regions of the world where agriculture is either impossible or extremely risky.
There’s another interesting complexity to the problem as well. Experiments and studies in various regions of the world have shown that when malnourished people are given access to cheaper food or more food, they actually end up with less nourishment. How is this possible? The magazine cites a couple of examples. In China, people who subsisted on rice (in the south) or noodles (in the north) were given subsidies to allow them to buy more of these staples. Instead, the study revealed that they actually bought less rice and noodles with their increased buying power, and purchased tastier foods rather than more food, thereby continuing to be malnourished… but presumably happier about it.
In India, while wealth has increased per capita at a staggering rate over the past decade or two, the caloric intake of the average Indian has actually declined! There are many possible explanations for this, but the fact serves to point out the complexity of the problem.
A Moroccan labourer living in a mud-floored single room hut, subsisting on one or two meals a day at a level of nutrition that is well below accepted limits for malnourishment, told the authors of one of the articles that his television and cell phone were more important than food! Rural Indians starve themselves for years in order to save up for a lavish, extravagant wedding for their children.
It’s fine to tell someone that statistics collected over many years clearly show that if she eats better her children will be born healthier, she will have more energy to do better work, and her quality of life will improve… over a decade or so. But faced day to day with supplying food to her family, she is unlikely to think in the long term and will opt for more immediate gratification, whether that means buying meat instead of rice or saving up for a TV instead of buying nourishment that might have a positive effect in ten or twenty years. Can people really be blamed for skimping on already meager nourishment and opting instead for temporary escape from grinding poverty?
The answer to the problem of world hunger is as complex as the problem itself, but can be summed up in one word: education. When people understand that there is a direct relationship between getting enough of the right food and health and prosperity… even though that direct relationship may take years to reveal itself… only then can efforts to feed the poorest and most malnourished begin to have an effect. And the challenge of educating the poor to make better food choices is not limited to the third world.
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Saturday, January 28, 2012
February: Winter Veggies
In a global marketplace, we are spoiled for choice. Asparagus appears in our supermarkets all year long, never mind that it comes from several thousand kilometers away and isn’t anywhere near as good as our fresh, local variety. Likewise lettuce and greens of all types, green beans, and peas, tomatoes, and so on. There really isn’t much need to change what you cook, regardless of the season… which, in a rather perverse way, is too bad. The proliferation of imported year-round vegetables means that we don’t put the emphasis that we once did on using winter veggies.
These are vegetables that either come into their most flavourful best during the colder months, or ones that store well and are available to us from late fall right through into spring. While most are root vegetables, there are some, like Brussels sprouts, that are sweetest and most tasty when harvested late. All of them pack really impressive health benefits, adding important vitamins (especially C), minerals, and fiber to our diets.
Winter meals tend toward comfort food: slow roasted affairs that fill the house with delicious smells long in advance of the meal. Winter vegetables are perfectly suited to accompany slowly roasted or braised meats. Many, like parsnips, carrots, Jerusalem Artichokes (sunchokes), beets, and potatoes can simply be tossed into the pan with the chicken or lamb or beef or pork and left to cook in the juice of the meat. Turnips and sweet potatoes (boiled and mashed with brown sugar or maple syrup and butter), Brussels sprouts (steamed and then finished in a light sauté with garlic and butter), and broccoli (steamed until just done to preserve crispness and bright green colour) add both colour and flavour to the plate.
Parsnips are a particular favourite of mine. Their nutty, sweet flavour is the essence of comfort food. The later they are harvested, the better they get, as the starch in the root turns to sugar when exposed to cold temperatures. Gardeners who cover parsnips with a layer of soil in the early winter can harvest their crop right through into early spring, and the longer they wait, the sweeter the result.
Sweet potatoes do not like the frost and have to be harvested as soon as the first frost kills off the stalks, but in southern Ontario, we have an ideal growing season for them. In fact, sweet potatoes are a commercial crop here, and Ontario sweet potatoes are available in stores and markets. They store very well and can be kept for up to a year in cool, dry conditions. I like them for the colour they impart to winter meals, which can tend toward white and brown, as well as for their sweet flavour.
I have never been a big fan of beets, but have discovered that if they are prepared right (see below), I not only tolerate them, but often come back for seconds. And they are definitely worth cultivating a taste for, as they are one of the most “cardiovascular friendly” of all foods, providing anti-oxidants in both the root and greens that lower cholesterol levels and provide protection against coronary artery disease and stroke. They are reputed to offer anti-aging qualities as well!
Here’s my favourite recipe for winter root vegetables, taken from my well-worn copy of Michael and Anna Olson’s Inn On the Twenty Cookbook.
Root Vegetable Confit
Note: while there seems to be a lot of oil used here, very little remains with the vegetables, and using oil rather than water concentrates rather than evaporates the flavour. Keep the oil to use over again.
Preheat the oven to 350, and place each of the following vegetables in its own container: 2 sliced carrots, 2 sliced parsnips, 1 diced celery root, ½ diced rutabaga, 2 diced beets. Distribute 2 Cups of vegetable oil evenly over the vegetables and add salt and pepper. Cover the dishes with foil and cook each until tender. Celery root takes about 20 minutes, parsnips about 30, carrots and rutabaga about 40, and beets about 50. Drain the oil and set the vegetables aside until you are ready to serve them. To serve, heat the vegetables together (except for the beets) in a large sauté pan, season to taste, and sprinkle with thyme. Heat the beets separately, as their colour will bleed into the other vegetables, and toss with the others just before serving.
These are vegetables that either come into their most flavourful best during the colder months, or ones that store well and are available to us from late fall right through into spring. While most are root vegetables, there are some, like Brussels sprouts, that are sweetest and most tasty when harvested late. All of them pack really impressive health benefits, adding important vitamins (especially C), minerals, and fiber to our diets.
Winter meals tend toward comfort food: slow roasted affairs that fill the house with delicious smells long in advance of the meal. Winter vegetables are perfectly suited to accompany slowly roasted or braised meats. Many, like parsnips, carrots, Jerusalem Artichokes (sunchokes), beets, and potatoes can simply be tossed into the pan with the chicken or lamb or beef or pork and left to cook in the juice of the meat. Turnips and sweet potatoes (boiled and mashed with brown sugar or maple syrup and butter), Brussels sprouts (steamed and then finished in a light sauté with garlic and butter), and broccoli (steamed until just done to preserve crispness and bright green colour) add both colour and flavour to the plate.
Parsnips are a particular favourite of mine. Their nutty, sweet flavour is the essence of comfort food. The later they are harvested, the better they get, as the starch in the root turns to sugar when exposed to cold temperatures. Gardeners who cover parsnips with a layer of soil in the early winter can harvest their crop right through into early spring, and the longer they wait, the sweeter the result.
Sweet potatoes do not like the frost and have to be harvested as soon as the first frost kills off the stalks, but in southern Ontario, we have an ideal growing season for them. In fact, sweet potatoes are a commercial crop here, and Ontario sweet potatoes are available in stores and markets. They store very well and can be kept for up to a year in cool, dry conditions. I like them for the colour they impart to winter meals, which can tend toward white and brown, as well as for their sweet flavour.
I have never been a big fan of beets, but have discovered that if they are prepared right (see below), I not only tolerate them, but often come back for seconds. And they are definitely worth cultivating a taste for, as they are one of the most “cardiovascular friendly” of all foods, providing anti-oxidants in both the root and greens that lower cholesterol levels and provide protection against coronary artery disease and stroke. They are reputed to offer anti-aging qualities as well!
Here’s my favourite recipe for winter root vegetables, taken from my well-worn copy of Michael and Anna Olson’s Inn On the Twenty Cookbook.
Root Vegetable Confit
Note: while there seems to be a lot of oil used here, very little remains with the vegetables, and using oil rather than water concentrates rather than evaporates the flavour. Keep the oil to use over again.
Preheat the oven to 350, and place each of the following vegetables in its own container: 2 sliced carrots, 2 sliced parsnips, 1 diced celery root, ½ diced rutabaga, 2 diced beets. Distribute 2 Cups of vegetable oil evenly over the vegetables and add salt and pepper. Cover the dishes with foil and cook each until tender. Celery root takes about 20 minutes, parsnips about 30, carrots and rutabaga about 40, and beets about 50. Drain the oil and set the vegetables aside until you are ready to serve them. To serve, heat the vegetables together (except for the beets) in a large sauté pan, season to taste, and sprinkle with thyme. Heat the beets separately, as their colour will bleed into the other vegetables, and toss with the others just before serving.
Monday, January 2, 2012
January: The French Resolution
My New Year’s resolution this year is to improve my French. After repeated visits to France and Québec over the last decade or so, I pride myself that I can “get by” in restaurants and shops, and have conversations at a fairly basic level. I’m happy that no longer do waiters and tourist guides and store clerks immediately switch to English as soon as I say “Bonjour.” However, I have long been embarrassed that most French people speak English better than I speak French… and I come from a supposedly bilingual country, they don’t!
Of the most active members in our Slow Food Pelham group, at least half are francophone, either from Québec or France. Of course, they are all fluent in English, while the English speaking contingent are either unable or unwilling to participate in a French conversation. (There’s an old joke that there are three kinds of Canadians: tri-lingual Canadians, bi-lingual Canadians, and English Canadians.) When our group gets together for meetings or other events like our lamb roast or special meals, general conversation is in English so that everyone can take part. Even though it is necessary if we are going to enjoy each other’s company (and we do), it seems somehow unfair that half of the group is speaking a “second language” all the time.
Of course, the connection between the French and food is well established. In the western world, French cuisine is acknowledged as the choice of gourmets and the standard by which fine food is judged; the English language is riddled with French words that have to do with food. From crêpes Suzettes to foie gras, from béchamel to baguette, we use French terms for the finest food. A quick survey of the cook books that cram the shelves in our kitchen reveals that more than a third are dedicated to French cooking, whether Julia Childs’ thick tomes on the art of French cuisine, or one of Patricia Wells’ many books (Bistro Cooking is a favorite), or little specialty books like Sarah Leah Chase’s Pedaling Through Provence, they contain the most delicious recipes in our repertoire. (Which reminds me, for some reason, of George W. Bush’s famous overheard comment at a summit: “You know the problem with the French? They don’t have a word for entrepreneur.” But I digress).
So, I am going to tackle French with a renewed vigour in the new year, and not just my French cooking. When we spend two or three weeks in France or Québec, my French naturally improves, but over the intervening year, I lose much of what I gained. The challenge will be to make the time and effort to continue to improve, rather than lapse and have to start all over. Making the time and effort… that’s what New Year’s resolutions are for.
On our visits to the South of France, we always stop at a sandwich stand and enjoy Pan Bagnat, a delicious sandwich served in the area around Nice.
Cut a crusty bun in half lengthwise and rub each half with a cut garlic clove. Coat the bread with wine vinegar and olive oil, then stuff the sandwich with the following ingredients, finely sliced: lettuce, tomatoes, hard-boiled eggs, tuna, cucumbers, anchovies, peppers, radishes, green onions, basil leaves, and pitted black olives. Let the sandwich sit in the refrigerator for at least an hour before serving to let the juices soak into the bread. Bon appétit!
Of the most active members in our Slow Food Pelham group, at least half are francophone, either from Québec or France. Of course, they are all fluent in English, while the English speaking contingent are either unable or unwilling to participate in a French conversation. (There’s an old joke that there are three kinds of Canadians: tri-lingual Canadians, bi-lingual Canadians, and English Canadians.) When our group gets together for meetings or other events like our lamb roast or special meals, general conversation is in English so that everyone can take part. Even though it is necessary if we are going to enjoy each other’s company (and we do), it seems somehow unfair that half of the group is speaking a “second language” all the time.
Of course, the connection between the French and food is well established. In the western world, French cuisine is acknowledged as the choice of gourmets and the standard by which fine food is judged; the English language is riddled with French words that have to do with food. From crêpes Suzettes to foie gras, from béchamel to baguette, we use French terms for the finest food. A quick survey of the cook books that cram the shelves in our kitchen reveals that more than a third are dedicated to French cooking, whether Julia Childs’ thick tomes on the art of French cuisine, or one of Patricia Wells’ many books (Bistro Cooking is a favorite), or little specialty books like Sarah Leah Chase’s Pedaling Through Provence, they contain the most delicious recipes in our repertoire. (Which reminds me, for some reason, of George W. Bush’s famous overheard comment at a summit: “You know the problem with the French? They don’t have a word for entrepreneur.” But I digress).
So, I am going to tackle French with a renewed vigour in the new year, and not just my French cooking. When we spend two or three weeks in France or Québec, my French naturally improves, but over the intervening year, I lose much of what I gained. The challenge will be to make the time and effort to continue to improve, rather than lapse and have to start all over. Making the time and effort… that’s what New Year’s resolutions are for.
On our visits to the South of France, we always stop at a sandwich stand and enjoy Pan Bagnat, a delicious sandwich served in the area around Nice.
Cut a crusty bun in half lengthwise and rub each half with a cut garlic clove. Coat the bread with wine vinegar and olive oil, then stuff the sandwich with the following ingredients, finely sliced: lettuce, tomatoes, hard-boiled eggs, tuna, cucumbers, anchovies, peppers, radishes, green onions, basil leaves, and pitted black olives. Let the sandwich sit in the refrigerator for at least an hour before serving to let the juices soak into the bread. Bon appétit!
Monday, December 5, 2011
December: Terra Madre Day
December 10th marks Slow Food International’s signature event, when people from 120 countries celebrate their commitment to good, clean, fair food in an amazing variety of events. Last year, events around the globe ranged from a wild food festival in the forests of Java to traditional cooking workshops in Palestinian villages, to a solar cooker banquet in Costa Rica, to a mammoth eat-in in Kings Cross, London.
As you can see, Slow Food is an enormously variable concept, meaning many different things to people around the world. But what binds them together is a belief that locally sourced food is best; that traditional recipes, cooking methods, and varieties should be preserved; that those who produce our foods should be fairly paid, acknowledged, and supported; that bigger, faster, easier, and cheaper is not always better when it comes to what we eat; and that ceremony, family, and friends have an important place in the consumption of our food.
Among the most important of the many initiatives undertaken by Slow Food International is the 1000 Gardens in Africa project, a grass roots movement to create 1000 gardens across the continent to preserve local methods and types of agriculture. Gardens are springing up in villages, school grounds, church lots, and communal spaces. People are being encouraged to produce their own food in sustainable and traditional ways in an attempt to answer, village by village, the food crisis that is afflicting so much of Africa.
Here in Pelham, we are reflecting the global initiatives of Slow Food in our own small way. Members of Slow Food Pelham have been working with a local group home to encourage the young people living in difficult circumstances to discover the joys of producing their own food. By supplying gardening tools, expertise, and sweat, Slow Food members have helped these young people to produce a variety of vegetables and fruits in a working garden. For two years now, the small garden plot has yielded fresh produce… but more importantly, it has taught some young people the responsibility, the satisfaction, and the pleasure, as well as the hard work, of small scale home gardening.
One of the more than 1200 Terra Madre events that take place worldwide on December 10th will be a gathering of Slow Food Pelham members in rural Pelham at a member’s home. There, we will celebrate Terra Madre in company with tens of thousands of other Slow Food Members around the world with a tasting of Niagara wines and Canadian-produced raw milk cheeses. Although our event is small in scale and global impact, we are able, in our low-key way, to be part of an enormous movement that is changing our world for the better… Slowly.
As you can see, Slow Food is an enormously variable concept, meaning many different things to people around the world. But what binds them together is a belief that locally sourced food is best; that traditional recipes, cooking methods, and varieties should be preserved; that those who produce our foods should be fairly paid, acknowledged, and supported; that bigger, faster, easier, and cheaper is not always better when it comes to what we eat; and that ceremony, family, and friends have an important place in the consumption of our food.
Among the most important of the many initiatives undertaken by Slow Food International is the 1000 Gardens in Africa project, a grass roots movement to create 1000 gardens across the continent to preserve local methods and types of agriculture. Gardens are springing up in villages, school grounds, church lots, and communal spaces. People are being encouraged to produce their own food in sustainable and traditional ways in an attempt to answer, village by village, the food crisis that is afflicting so much of Africa.
Here in Pelham, we are reflecting the global initiatives of Slow Food in our own small way. Members of Slow Food Pelham have been working with a local group home to encourage the young people living in difficult circumstances to discover the joys of producing their own food. By supplying gardening tools, expertise, and sweat, Slow Food members have helped these young people to produce a variety of vegetables and fruits in a working garden. For two years now, the small garden plot has yielded fresh produce… but more importantly, it has taught some young people the responsibility, the satisfaction, and the pleasure, as well as the hard work, of small scale home gardening.
One of the more than 1200 Terra Madre events that take place worldwide on December 10th will be a gathering of Slow Food Pelham members in rural Pelham at a member’s home. There, we will celebrate Terra Madre in company with tens of thousands of other Slow Food Members around the world with a tasting of Niagara wines and Canadian-produced raw milk cheeses. Although our event is small in scale and global impact, we are able, in our low-key way, to be part of an enormous movement that is changing our world for the better… Slowly.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
November: Great Caesar!
The Caesar salad is a fixture on most restaurant menus, and in most cases that means a Romaine lettuce salad, often with bacon bits and croutons, and a bottled creamy garlic dressing. This is a long way from the original that was created by Italian chef Caesar Cardini in California (or Tijuana, depending on the version) in the 1920’s. The story (as told by Cardini’s daughter) goes that he invented the salad with the few ingredients he had remaining in the restaurant kitchen after a particularly busy Fourth of July. He added cachet by preparing it right at the table of his customers. Needless to say, the legend is disputed, but it’s such a good story that it deserves to be true.
In a few very high-end restaurants, the Caesar salad is still prepared, with great showmanship, right at the table, a la Cardini. Olive oil, Worcestershire sauce, and vinegar are whisked together at tableside, the lemon squeezed over the torn Romaine lettuce, and a raw egg yolk deftly separated from the white and added right at the end of the procedure along with croutons and freshly grated Parmesan cheese.
The Caesar that I make pays homage to the original, but adds anchovies and leaves out the raw egg yolk, just to err on the side of safety. Sometimes, I’ll use the egg, but plunge it into boiling water for 45 seconds before breaking it and dropping the yolk into the salad; this doesn’t affect the consistency of the yolk, but kills any nasty stuff. The anchovies are optional (Cardini did not use them), but don’t be afraid to try them; most people to whom I’ve served this salad, even confirmed anchovy haters, enjoy the dressing and don’t find it overly fishy tasting. And do make your own croutons; it’s dead simple, and impresses the heck out of people who buy theirs at the store. Add a few lightly sautéed shrimp or cooked chicken strips to make the salad a meal instead of an appetizer, and serve with fresh baguette. We enjoyed this the day after Thanksgiving with some chunks of leftover turkey. It was just right: fresh and not too filling after the overindulgence of the previous day.
1 large head Romaine lettuce, washed and torn into bite size pieces
½ Cup good olive oil
1 large clove garlic, minced
2 slices day old French bread
3 Tbsp Balsamic vinegar
1 tsp Worcestershire sauce
Juice of one lemon
Pinch of dry mustard
3 or 4 anchovy fillets mashed
¼ Cup grated Parmesan cheese
Put the garlic in the olive oil and let it steep for at least an hour. Cut the French bread into 1 cm squares (about a cup) and sauté the squares in 2 Tbsp of the garlic flavoured olive oil until golden. To the rest of the olive oil add the other liquids, the mustard, and the anchovies and stir or shake well to blend. Pour the dressing over the lettuce, add the croutons, and toss thoroughly. Add sea salt and freshly ground pepper to taste, then the Parmesan, and toss again just before serving. If you use the egg yolk, whisk it separately and add it at the same time as the other liquids.
In a few very high-end restaurants, the Caesar salad is still prepared, with great showmanship, right at the table, a la Cardini. Olive oil, Worcestershire sauce, and vinegar are whisked together at tableside, the lemon squeezed over the torn Romaine lettuce, and a raw egg yolk deftly separated from the white and added right at the end of the procedure along with croutons and freshly grated Parmesan cheese.
The Caesar that I make pays homage to the original, but adds anchovies and leaves out the raw egg yolk, just to err on the side of safety. Sometimes, I’ll use the egg, but plunge it into boiling water for 45 seconds before breaking it and dropping the yolk into the salad; this doesn’t affect the consistency of the yolk, but kills any nasty stuff. The anchovies are optional (Cardini did not use them), but don’t be afraid to try them; most people to whom I’ve served this salad, even confirmed anchovy haters, enjoy the dressing and don’t find it overly fishy tasting. And do make your own croutons; it’s dead simple, and impresses the heck out of people who buy theirs at the store. Add a few lightly sautéed shrimp or cooked chicken strips to make the salad a meal instead of an appetizer, and serve with fresh baguette. We enjoyed this the day after Thanksgiving with some chunks of leftover turkey. It was just right: fresh and not too filling after the overindulgence of the previous day.
1 large head Romaine lettuce, washed and torn into bite size pieces
½ Cup good olive oil
1 large clove garlic, minced
2 slices day old French bread
3 Tbsp Balsamic vinegar
1 tsp Worcestershire sauce
Juice of one lemon
Pinch of dry mustard
3 or 4 anchovy fillets mashed
¼ Cup grated Parmesan cheese
Put the garlic in the olive oil and let it steep for at least an hour. Cut the French bread into 1 cm squares (about a cup) and sauté the squares in 2 Tbsp of the garlic flavoured olive oil until golden. To the rest of the olive oil add the other liquids, the mustard, and the anchovies and stir or shake well to blend. Pour the dressing over the lettuce, add the croutons, and toss thoroughly. Add sea salt and freshly ground pepper to taste, then the Parmesan, and toss again just before serving. If you use the egg yolk, whisk it separately and add it at the same time as the other liquids.
Friday, October 14, 2011
October: Now that you’ve gotten over the turkey, think Duck
Duck is an underappreciated food in Canada. While it is now featured in many of the better restaurants (including great recipes in three of my local favorites: Zest, About Thyme, and Paris Bistro), it seldom is featured in butcher shops or supermarkets, and seldom is served at Canadian tables. Having recently returned from a jaunt to the South of France, Valerie and I are very conscious of how much we have come to appreciate the French love of duck in their cuisine. It appears not only on the menus of some of the finest restaurants on the planet in Paris, but equally on the chalkboard specials outside small town bars and bistros. It is most often seen as “magret de canard” or duck breast, grilled with a sauce. However, it also appears on the menus of the southwest as “confit”, served alone or as the main meat ingredient in the famous cassoulet of the area around the town of Castelnaudary.
Confit is a way of preserving food… most often duck… that involves salting the meat ( normally the leg, though other bits work as well) for a day or two then poaching it in duck fat until tender. The meat is then immersed in a jar of hot duck fat and sealed, a process that will keep the meat for lengthy periods of time. When removed from the fat and either fried or baked, the meat is sinfully rich and flavourful.
Duck fat is also lavishly used in the South of France, especially for cooking potatoes. Duck fat is not like other fats… in fact, some scientific studies have likened its properties more to olive oil than to animal fats, and the French don’t seem to suffer from imbibing it in magnificent quantity. Ducks are by nature fatty creatures, so anytime the meat is cooked, fat results. Diced potatoes cooked in duck fat until golden and crisp are every bit as good as the fantastic frites the French do better than anyone (except the Belgians).
And then there is foie gras. Ducks are force fed until they are obscenely fat and their livers are enormous… at which point, they are among the most valuable birds on earth. Those livers (now called “foie gras” or “fat liver”… the French translation looks better on a menu) sell for prices that make gold look cheap and connoisseurs the world over willingly pay for the stuff, lightly grilled and served with sweet wine. Any leftover bits or inferior quality livers that aren’t sold as fresh foie gras are processed into paté or terrine and sold in tins or jars in specialty shops where even these secondary products fetch impressive prices.
However, as I have said, the magret or breast of the duck is the most commonly available part of the duck, and you’ll see it in French supermarkets and butcher shops the way you might see T-bones or pork chops here. The very best magrets are those from ducks that have been fattened to produce foie gras; they are about twice as thick and meaty as the breasts of normal ducks.
Preparing magret de canard is simple, and in previous columns I’ve mentioned my favorite recipe from Michael and Anna Olson’s On the Twenty Cookbook: just score the fat in a grid pattern and fry the breast fat side down for about 5 minutes, then pop it into a pre-heated 375 degree oven (without turning it over) for another 15 to 20 minutes. Duck, unlike other poultry, should be served medium to medium rare. Serve it with a sweet sauce like the sour cherry gastrique the Olsons use (even just smear honey on the meat while it’s still very hot) and, of course, potatoes sautéd in the fat.
Confit is a way of preserving food… most often duck… that involves salting the meat ( normally the leg, though other bits work as well) for a day or two then poaching it in duck fat until tender. The meat is then immersed in a jar of hot duck fat and sealed, a process that will keep the meat for lengthy periods of time. When removed from the fat and either fried or baked, the meat is sinfully rich and flavourful.
Duck fat is also lavishly used in the South of France, especially for cooking potatoes. Duck fat is not like other fats… in fact, some scientific studies have likened its properties more to olive oil than to animal fats, and the French don’t seem to suffer from imbibing it in magnificent quantity. Ducks are by nature fatty creatures, so anytime the meat is cooked, fat results. Diced potatoes cooked in duck fat until golden and crisp are every bit as good as the fantastic frites the French do better than anyone (except the Belgians).
And then there is foie gras. Ducks are force fed until they are obscenely fat and their livers are enormous… at which point, they are among the most valuable birds on earth. Those livers (now called “foie gras” or “fat liver”… the French translation looks better on a menu) sell for prices that make gold look cheap and connoisseurs the world over willingly pay for the stuff, lightly grilled and served with sweet wine. Any leftover bits or inferior quality livers that aren’t sold as fresh foie gras are processed into paté or terrine and sold in tins or jars in specialty shops where even these secondary products fetch impressive prices.
However, as I have said, the magret or breast of the duck is the most commonly available part of the duck, and you’ll see it in French supermarkets and butcher shops the way you might see T-bones or pork chops here. The very best magrets are those from ducks that have been fattened to produce foie gras; they are about twice as thick and meaty as the breasts of normal ducks.
Preparing magret de canard is simple, and in previous columns I’ve mentioned my favorite recipe from Michael and Anna Olson’s On the Twenty Cookbook: just score the fat in a grid pattern and fry the breast fat side down for about 5 minutes, then pop it into a pre-heated 375 degree oven (without turning it over) for another 15 to 20 minutes. Duck, unlike other poultry, should be served medium to medium rare. Serve it with a sweet sauce like the sour cherry gastrique the Olsons use (even just smear honey on the meat while it’s still very hot) and, of course, potatoes sautéd in the fat.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
September: Hot Tomatoes!
Is there any better time of year in Niagara than September? Well, maybe warm days in May or a beautiful snowy day in January, or…. Well, September is pretty darn nice. Just look at the Pelham Farmer’s Market (or any of Niagara’s many fresh markets), packed with fabulous produce that simply can’t be duplicated by imported stuff at any time of year.
It’s also the time when real foodies stock up on all that fresh produce to make sure that it lasts as long into the winter as possible by preserving, pickling, canning, drying, or freezing some of it. I have already frozen bags full of strawberries from last June and raspberries from July to use in my morning smoothies right through the year, and I have learned to can peaches (more about that in another column), but now is the time to put away beans and broccoli, peppers, and tomatoes for winter stews and sauces.
I slice some tomatoes into thick slices and dry them to the consistency of leather in my smoker (an oven at 140 degrees works just fine) to use on pizzas or in sauces all winter. Some I make into sauce or paste to freeze, and the rest I just freeze whole. If I’m making something where I don’t want to use the skin, I just drop the frozen tomato in hot water for a few seconds, and the skin slides off. Frozen plum or paste tomatoes are way better than canned.
And with tomatoes at their flavour peak, this is the time of year to indulge in some of our favorite tomato dishes. Here are some of the recipes we look forward to preparing when tomatoes really taste like tomatoes.
Pâtes au Pistou
Combine the following and serve over 1 lb. of freshly cooked pasta (I like linguine for this) to serve 4 to 6 people. Let the sauce sit for an hour to meld the flavours before serving.
5 diced tomatoes
¾ Cup shredded fresh basil
6 garlic cloves, minced
¾ Cup minced fresh parsley
½ Cup olive oil
1 ½ teaspoons of Herbes de Provence (a mix of thyme and oregano will do)
Coarse salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
Caprese Salad
This is a simple mix of thickly sliced tomatoes layered around the plate with slices of buffalo Mozzarella and drizzled with freshly chopped basil, a little good Balsamic vinegar and olive oil, and a sprinkle of sea salt. A nice variation is to use tomato chunks mixed with baby bocconcini along with the oil, basil, and Balsamic.
…and our all-time favorite, a rich and decadent recipe that has wowed whomever Valerie prepared it for from our friends in the South of France (who now serve it themselves and call it “the Canadian pasta”!) to friends in our backyard:
Tomato and Brie Pasta
4 large tomatoes cut into cubes
1 lb Brie, skin removed, torn into chunks
1 Cup fresh basil, cut into strips
3 (or more) garlic cloves, minced
1 Cup olive oil
Combine these ingredients at least two hours before serving and leave them covered at room temperature until the pasta is ready. Cook 1 to 1 ½ pounds of pasta (bowtie, fettucine, linguine, they all work) and as soon as it’s done, combine it with the sauce. Toss thoroughly and serve with freshly ground pepper.
It’s also the time when real foodies stock up on all that fresh produce to make sure that it lasts as long into the winter as possible by preserving, pickling, canning, drying, or freezing some of it. I have already frozen bags full of strawberries from last June and raspberries from July to use in my morning smoothies right through the year, and I have learned to can peaches (more about that in another column), but now is the time to put away beans and broccoli, peppers, and tomatoes for winter stews and sauces.
I slice some tomatoes into thick slices and dry them to the consistency of leather in my smoker (an oven at 140 degrees works just fine) to use on pizzas or in sauces all winter. Some I make into sauce or paste to freeze, and the rest I just freeze whole. If I’m making something where I don’t want to use the skin, I just drop the frozen tomato in hot water for a few seconds, and the skin slides off. Frozen plum or paste tomatoes are way better than canned.
And with tomatoes at their flavour peak, this is the time of year to indulge in some of our favorite tomato dishes. Here are some of the recipes we look forward to preparing when tomatoes really taste like tomatoes.
Pâtes au Pistou
Combine the following and serve over 1 lb. of freshly cooked pasta (I like linguine for this) to serve 4 to 6 people. Let the sauce sit for an hour to meld the flavours before serving.
5 diced tomatoes
¾ Cup shredded fresh basil
6 garlic cloves, minced
¾ Cup minced fresh parsley
½ Cup olive oil
1 ½ teaspoons of Herbes de Provence (a mix of thyme and oregano will do)
Coarse salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
Caprese Salad
This is a simple mix of thickly sliced tomatoes layered around the plate with slices of buffalo Mozzarella and drizzled with freshly chopped basil, a little good Balsamic vinegar and olive oil, and a sprinkle of sea salt. A nice variation is to use tomato chunks mixed with baby bocconcini along with the oil, basil, and Balsamic.
…and our all-time favorite, a rich and decadent recipe that has wowed whomever Valerie prepared it for from our friends in the South of France (who now serve it themselves and call it “the Canadian pasta”!) to friends in our backyard:
Tomato and Brie Pasta
4 large tomatoes cut into cubes
1 lb Brie, skin removed, torn into chunks
1 Cup fresh basil, cut into strips
3 (or more) garlic cloves, minced
1 Cup olive oil
Combine these ingredients at least two hours before serving and leave them covered at room temperature until the pasta is ready. Cook 1 to 1 ½ pounds of pasta (bowtie, fettucine, linguine, they all work) and as soon as it’s done, combine it with the sauce. Toss thoroughly and serve with freshly ground pepper.
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