Sharing the kitchen

Made dumplings with Susanna, Greg and Nikki over the weekend. It was one of their semi-regular cooking nights. They've had some pretty impressive cooking nights in the past: perogies, samosas and handmade pasta (without a pasta machine). This weekend, it was pork dumplings. Egg drop soup, and stir-fried baby bok choy with spicy tofu and mushrooms rounded out the meal. Afterwards, we had mango sherbet and green tea ice cream.
I love putting together a meal with friends. Especially when the meal is dumplings. Busy hands make conversations flow freely. And I really like how everyone helps to create something that we all later share.
Which makes something like SupperWorks difficult to understand. It’s a cooking concept that’s coming to Ottawa. I read about it in the newspaper on the same day as the dumpling making session. SupperWorks offers a kitchen away from your own kitchen for preparing meals. How it works is you’re given a list of possible entrees. You check off the ones that interest you. Then you go to the SupperWorks industrial kitchen where they provide all the ingredients for your meals -- pre-washed, chopped and measured. Your job is to follow the recipe and put the dishes together. And you don’t need to clean up. After you’ve finished making one meal, you move to a different station in the kitchen for the next entree. You then take the entrees home and put them in freezer – so you can pull them out at your convenience.
SupperWorks says the benefits of this idea are you get to make meals from scratch (sort of), you get to cook without being distracted by kids, spouse, phone calls or the dog, and you don’t need to put any thought into what to make. Plus you get to use a big, shiny, stainless steel kitchen. The last point is appealing, given how my kitchen is the same width as most people's hallways. But nothing else about SupperWorks attracts me.
First, choosing the meals to make is part of the fun of cooking. I don’t want someone deciding that for me. Second, there’s no question that family can be frustrating when you’re tired, stressed and trying to put dinner on the table, but choosing to leave your house to make meals seems a bit drastic. Besides, how are kids supposed to learn how to cook if mom or dad leaves the house every time they prepare a meal?
It also feels as if real-life cooking is trying to imitate television cooking. And that’s just plain disturbing. You’ve watched cooking shows before where all the chef does is throw a couple of previously prepared ingredients in a bowl, stick the mixture in the oven, and then reach to the oven rack below where they pull out the dish that’s supposed to emerge after 45 minutes at 350 degrees farrenheit. Have people become so used to seeing this concept that they think that’s what cooking should be? That someone else should do the prep work and their job should be what’s seen on-camera? I’m curious to see how SupperWorks does in Ottawa.

Last night in Toronto

Had dinner with my friend Vin. She took me to a restaurant on College Street named Cafe Diplomatico. It was my first time there – but I think it’s well-known by the Toronto set. I loved the vibe of the place right when I stepped in. The restaurant’s been around since 1968 and it has an old-fashioned diner sensibility. Formica tables, simple lighting, menus encased in plastic. The restaurant was packed with people both inside and out on the patio. Servers were rushing from tables to the kitchen. It reminded me a bit of Colonnade Pizza here in Ottawa, except with more energy to it.
The menu was a Choose-Your-Own Adventure of Italian options. Pizzas came with a list of possible toppings. Pastas came with a list of possible sauces. And each night of the week had a different special. Wednesday nights are chicken parmigiana.
Vin recommended the calzone. We both ordered one. I chose pepperoni, mushrooms and olives for mine. We also ordered salads (him Greek, me garden) and garlic bread. My garden salad came as you would expect – tomatoes, lettuce, cucumber, olives. All the ingredients were quite fresh. The garlic bread was heavenly. Crisply toasted outside, buttery soft inside. (Had I remembered Vin telling me the waiters bring a basket of rolls to the table, I don’t think I would have ordered the garlic bread – I was quite stuffed.)
But the calzone was the box office attraction. It was huge. I was impressed by how the dough encasing the pepperoni, olives and mushrooms was deliciously yeasty and light. The cheese oozed out the moment I cut into my calzone. We each ordered the version that comes with a tomato sauce on the side, which was perfect for dipping. The cheese became too much about half-way into the calzone so I scraped out the rest of the gooiness.
After dinner, Vin and I walked home. She moved here five months ago. And we talked about the challenges of settling into a new city. To be honest, Toronto has never appealed to me. I’ve never felt like I connected to it – too scattered, too big. But twice I’ve gone out and felt like I connected to the neighbourhood. Once was in Kensington Market. The second was eating at Cafe Diplomatico.

Pigeons take patience

I was in Toronto earlier this week. And one of the pleasures of visiting the city is eating Chinese food in Markham. I met up with family on Tuesday night and we went out for a meal that would be difficult for me to find in Ottawa. We had winter melon soup steamed inside a whole winter melon. And also, something I remember from my childhood: roasted pigeon. I remember my grandfather would take me out for pigeon every time mom, dad and I went back to Hong Kong for a visit.
First rule of pigeon eating is not to question how the restaurant got the pigeon. Second rule is to have patience. Pigeons aren’t big creatures so it takes time to pick the meat off the bone. What I appreciate about the Chinese philosophy to food is if you’re served flounder or duck you know what you’re eating was once fish or fowl. Fish are steamed whole from head to tail, chicken is served chopped up -- bone and all. An accurate – but slightly rude-sounding – translation of a Chinese expression for enjoying meat off the bone is "sucking bone". As in "Give her the fish head. She’s very good at sucking fish bone." (If anyone can think of a more delicate way to translate this, please let me know.)
The benefit is you don’t distance yourself from your food. It doesn’t end up being a slab of meat that came wrapped in plastic wrap from the grocery store. My aunt was shocked when a friend of mine once told her the only type of chicken she’d ever purchased was skinless and boneless chicken breast. It’s about slowing down and focusing on your food. One of the pleasures of eating pigeon – aside from the rich, dark meat – is methodically dissecting the bird with your chopsticks, hands and teeth – cleaning the flesh off the bone so that the roasted pigeon becomes a small pile of bones on the plate.
People who’ve watched me to do this who aren’t Chinese think it’s slightly odd behaviour, and even gross. And I guess there is something slightly barbaric to it if you’re not used to seeing it at the dinner table. But I think it’s unfortunate when the experience of dining is refined to the point where you can’t appreciate your dinner was once a creature.

Bibimbap Binge

You’d think a food blog would have pictures of well, food. I was too hungry to take a picture before eating. This is a shot of what was my lunch, a bowl of dolsot bibimbap. Me and my friend went to the Korean restaurant Arum after spending half the day at Camp Fortune’s Aerial Park. It was my first time at the aerial park. It was very cool. Basically, the Camp Fortune people have set up an obstacle course in the trees where you balance on tightropes, crawl through wooden tubes and swingng on ropes – all done ten feet or more off the ground. We were all very sore (a lot of upper body use) and tired afterwards.

Kate and I had a slightly comatose conversation while waiting for our food at Arum. I hadn’t been to Arum in half a year, but the dolsot bibimbap was as good as I remembered. Bibimbap is a mixed rice dish – this one had veggies and ground beef. The dolsot part refers to the black stone bowl in the photo – heated so that the dish sizzles when it’s brought to the table. The rice touching the bowl turns golden brown and crispy. It’s served with a fried egg on top (traditionally a raw egg is cracked on top, but I think they don’t do that here because of public health concerns over salmonella -- someone correct me if I'm wrong). In the past, the egg was fried over easy but this time it was served sunnyside up. That made the dish even better, because the yolk was runner and could more easily mix with the rice, beef and veggies. I think Kate was slightly disturbed by how quickly I wolfed it all down. She got through about three-quarters of her's. I love the little side dishes that come with a Korean meal – we had kimchi (fermented cabbage), bean sprouts, radishes and potatoes yesterday. And we also slurped down bowls of fermented soybean paste soup. Needless to say, I felt like I should have been rolled out of the restaurant after eating. The walk home did me good.

Old Dutch memories

Guess what was waiting for me on my desk at work today! Nothing makes a western Canadian smile like a bag of Old Dutch potato chips. Kate brought a few bags back with her from Thunder Bay. I shared this bag with people at work. I think what makes Old Dutch taste so good is the nostalgia. Definitely people in the newsroom who grew up in Manitoba, Saskatchewan or Alberta were more excited about the chips than the Ontarians. And I think Old Dutch knows people are snacking on childhood memories as much as potatoes, vegetable oil and salt. (Remember when they came in a cardboard box? I used to get so excited when mom came home from Safeway with one of those boxes in the grocery bags.) Anway, flip over today's Old Dutch chip bag and this is what you get:
How the West was Won! It started in Winnipeg back around 1954. A little known potato chip company with a lot of heart became the talk of the town. Soon, the news of these tasty chips spread like wildfire! Folks had never had anything like them. Since then, Canadians have made a tradition of serving Old Dutch flavour favourites at birthday parties, get togethers and celebrations!
I think nostalgia is still big business in the food world. The Sugar Mountain candy store chain is a prime example. It sells PEZ dispensers and Garbage Pail Kids trading cards alongside Coke in a glass bottle and Popeye bubble gum. And look at how A&W brought the mama, papa and teen burgers back to its menu. And cupcakes are still pretty hot as a food trend. From the Magnolia Bakery in NY’s West Village to wedding tables (some couples order pyramids of cupcakes instead of wedding cakes).
What’s sad about Old Dutch chips – or any nostalgia food – is the taste doesn’t often measure up to the memories. Munching away this afternoon, it occurred to me that I like Baked Lays more than Old Dutch now. Old Dutch tastes kinda greasy. Which isn’t what I want to think, because I’m rooting for Old Dutch to survive the Lays invasion. You can tell Old Dutch wants that as well when you read the last line on the chip bag:
We look forward to serving up our many Old Dutch flavour favourites to Canadian families for generations to come.
It's kind of like saying yeah, we know we know we're facing stiff competition, but we hope we won't be stomped under.

Can I see you for a moment?

One of the exec’s called me into her office this afternoon. I knew I was going to find out whether or not I got the job I boarded for last week. I braced myself in case I didn’t get the job by thinking in my head no matter what happens, don't start crying. But I was told I gave a very good board (job interview), displayed a good sense of show, and would I like to have the position? Yipee!
The biggest change this will bring (aside from trying to figure out how to work on a different show with a different host, producers, and a new, extended hour) is I will move from working the afternoon/evening shift to a day shift. That's still sinking in. I can’t remember what people do after 6 pm on a weeknight.
I was thinking about what the change to my working hours would mean for my life on my walk home. Maybe I can audition for one of Ottawa’s amateur orchestras now. Or take a cooking class. As I was walking, I passed by the New Asian Restaurant. It opened less than a year ago and stood out for me the moment the sign went up because it’s the only Chinese restaurant on the downtown portion of Bank Street. Tonight, the restaurant is all taped up with newspapers and a sign reads that it is under new management. That happened so quickly. I knew the restaurant wasn’t doing well because I rarely saw people eating inside. To be honest, I didn’t think the menu offered much beyond greasy fried rice for white public servants on their lunchbreak. Now the New Asian is reinventing itself. And I turned this over in my head for the rest of my walk home.

The cabin

Got back from a girl’s night at the cabin this morning. The weather is a bit cool this weekend so no one went swimming. But there was a hammock. And a dock to watch the sunset. And a true cabin – with an old fashioned coffee percolator, a VCR, and a set of antlers over the fireplace. There was also tons of food. We grazed on chips and pretzels in the afternoon. Then we had more chips, smoked salmon, veggies and dip before dinner. Our hostess supplied the chicken skewers. Her invite asked each of us to bring either a salad or dessert. She ended up with six salads, an hors d'oeuvres plate and two Snickers bars (that was Jen’s contribution, but she drove us there so it was all good). We had Caesar salad, fruit salad, cheese tortellini and spinach salad, wild greens with dressing, and Greek salad. I brought what’s become a standard when a salad is called for – my Waldorf-inspired apple blue cheese salad. For dessert, we made s’mores. It was a good night. We caught up. Bitched and gossiped about work. Watched a chick flick.
Then there was more food in the morning. We had bacon, sausage, leftover fruit salad (which was very good) and blueberry pancakes. I helped to make the pancakes, which was fun. The pancakes came from a just-add-water mix, which I hadn’t used in a long time. I started making them from scratch a few years ago because I discovered it was easier than I thought it would be.
This morning, I followed Aunt Jamima’s directions for the mix to water ratio. But then it looked too goopy so I added more water. Which was a mistake because my first attempt at frying the pancake didn’t work out. It fell apart. So I got directions on getting the texture right (“more powder!” more powder!”) and the pancakes were saved. The porcelain spoon’s hint of the day: to prevent the blueberries in the blueberry pancakes from turning the batter purple, wait until you ladle batter into the frying pan and then sprinkle in the blueberries.

More on the b.sprout

I’m slowly telling family and friends that I’ve started a blog, and directing them here. And when I checked my email this morning, I found this from my friend Stasa in the U.K. -- in response to me scrunching up my nose at brussels sprouts:
One of Ed's favourite foods is brussel sprouts. And I enjoy them as well. They are actually a bit sweet, when cooked well, and maybe it also has something to do with picking baby brussel sprouts rather than older ones? Have you ever seen brussel sprouts growing? It's kind of a funny looking plant, I'd never seen one until last year when Ed showed me one growing in someone's back garden.
I’d be curious to know how Ed cooks his brussels sprouts. Stasa’s email led me to spend half my morning researching brussels sprouts on-line (it's my day off). Not a peep about it from the land of its origins. I couldn't find any mention of the brussel sprout on the website for the government of Belgium. In comparison, a search for “maple syrup” under the government of Canada website yielded 1,542 hits. Did you know brussels sprouts were the most hated vegetable by British children in 2001. The info comes courtesy of a survey on children between the ages of 11 and 16 – conducted by a supermarket chain and a group named the Cancer Research Campaign (carrots and sweetcorn were found to be the most popular). So I have good company in my dislike of the brussel sprout. The British dis on brussels sprouts says a lot, given how the veg is strongly linked to British food culture – they’re often served as part of the Christmas dinner, aren’t they? Perhaps Ed can explain.

Brussel(s) sprouts

I had my job interview yesterday. Not sure how it went. I was a bit thrown off by how I wasn’t very nervous in the moments right before I entered the board room. This could either be very good (I was prepared) or very bad (I was so unprepared that I didn’t know how unprepared I was.) I’m supposed to find out early next week.
When I haven’t been preparing for the job interview, I’ve been given more thought to brussel sprouts. And what is it about them that I don’t like. I’ve never been a picky eater. And there are few other foods that I won’t eat (raw onions and bitter melon would be on the same list as the brussel sprouts though). So why is it that my taste buds rebel against the sprout?
Here’s what the Joy of Cooking says about brussel sprouts: “Brussels sprouts (I didn’t know that the Brussel part is plural) are bite-sized green cabbages, juicy with a nutty-sweet cabbage flavour.” Nutty-sweet? I would never think of describing brussel sprouts, I mean, brussels sprouts as nutty-sweet. But obviously on someone else’s tongue, it tastes that way. Crazy.

Good for you

It’s been a very low-key long weekend for me. I’ve been preparing for a job interview on Wednesday. I have to say job interviews intimidate the hell out of me. First, I’m awkward about selling myself to other people. I feel uncomfortable about all the attention focused on me. Second, this is a job within my office that I’ve applied for so I’m competing with friends and colleagues. It's funny how cautious everyone is about fact that we're all after the same job -- we don't speak about it very much. But I keep telling myself job interviews are like brussel sprouts. They’re good for me. Help me grow. It’ll be a chance for me to crystallize my opinions about the shows I work for, where I see the station going. I’ll have a chance to focus on what my long-term goals are going to be. Unlike brussel sprouts, I can’t coat the job interview with melted butter to soften the awkwardness of it all. And even with butter brussel sprouts are hard to take. Blagh. I have been trying to prepare for the interview as best I can. I’ve spoken with different people about what they think the job entails and what will be required. I’ve been listening to past episodes of the program I’m applying for so I can articulate my thoughts on what the show is like. I’ve been thinking about my vision for the program and also the position I’m applying for. I’ve acted out the actual job interview and received feedback on my performance. And I’m researching story ideas to pitch. We’ll see how it all goes.

Discovering onigiri

That’s my friend Sheila on the left, eating lunch at the Wild Oat. She visited me from Winnipeg for a few days this past week. And she introduced me to the wonders of onigiri. Onigiri’s are a popular lunchfood or snacktime treat in Japan. I think it’s also featured in manga books or in anime. Basically, it’s rice wrapped around a filling. Sometimes with a strip of nori or seaweed on the outside. Its simplicity makes it delicious. Sheila learned how to make onigiri’s when she went to her family reunion. Her cousin’s boyfriend made them with tuna fish and mayo as the filling.
I remember at my office, Susan had spoken about onigiri as well. Susan taught English in Japan for a few years and one of her stories is about the ingenious way in which store-bought onigiri’s are packaged. You can get them at any convenience store. They come wrapped in cellophane with three tabs sticking out. Onigiri package designers have created a way to unwrap the cellophane so that as you pull tab one, tab two, and tab three, a piece of nori previously folded into the cellophane starts to wrap around the rice – so that by the time you’ve pulled all the tabs and completely taken the cellophane off, the onigiri is now wrapped in a nice, crisp sheet of nori. No chewy, soggy nori to deal with. It’s an origami marvel. (Though soggy versus crisp is totally your call.) I’ve heard Susan tell this story to people two or three times. This guy has an amazing collection of onigiri pics.
When Sheila and I tried to make onigiri’s in my kitchen, we couldn’t figure out how to shape the onigiri’s into triangles and ended up with rice balls instead. We think they look kinda funny in the photos. But I did some Googling and learned how to properly shape the onigiri’s into triangles. I tried making them again last night. You can see the results and recipe (as well as the recipe for the pork dumplings below) by clicking here. I think I can make them look half decent with some practice.

A dumpling craving

Thank God the weather cooled down. Up until yesterday, the city was blanketed by steamy, stagnate, oppressive heat. Temperatures topped 42 degrees with humidex. I turned the air conditioner on for the first time on Tuesday. And I tried to think cool thoughts (ice cubes, meat lockers, January). Most of my meals these days are coming from the vegetable crisper in the fridge. Or from ordering off a menu.

But then I started thinking about pork dumplings in the middle of the heat wave. Not sure why. Maybe my body was tired of salad and ice cream. I'm not one to question a craving. I usually keep pork dumplings sitting in the back of the freezer. I like to fold a few dozen of them and then stuff them into freezer bags for slow consumption. (Walk into my apartment on a dumpling folding day and it’s a dumpling explosion -- trays of the little guys cover my kitchen counter, coffee table and desk.) So I rooted around my freezer and found I still had a bag and a half left.

The key to cooking dumplings during a heat wave is to make them when it’s least hot outside. I decided on six o’clock in the morning. So I turned on my stove for the first time in a week and a half. I love waiting for the dumplings to bob to the top of the pot. And when scooping them out, watching the dough wrinkle around the filling. A dab of chili sauce and a splash of vinegar -- they were delicious.