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The 100th post

Goodness, I have blogged 100 times since February.

Years ago, when I was still naively eyeing the glossy chrome and enamel glitz of Kitchen Aid mixers, pining after industrial-looking Kenwood kitchen machines, and had bought a wimpy but ever-so compact Braun all-in-one mixer/food processor/blender to fit in my tiny English cupboard, my mother had the wisdom to snap up a couple of Bosch kitchen machines for herself and my sister-in-law. These are serious mixers, but more importantly they sell on the principle that you keep them for life and add bits and pieces as you need them. Mine has a blender and slicer/shredder in addition to the mixer with its whisk and dough hooks and has been churning along happily for over 20 years, its white finish yellowing but its motor unfazed by anything I throw at it. The local supplier is helpful and creative, and her very useful website now offers online cooking courses by the batch, using simple narrated slideshows. There’s a free one on making bread in 1 hour 15 minutes, and if that doesn’t make you rush out and buy a Bosch right now I don’t know what will.

There’s a good discussion about poetry on CBC’s Canada Reads pages. During this year’s Canada Reads series, the question was asked, What makes something a poem and not paragraph? and the query was finally answered by several poets. I thought Susan Musgrave’s response was particularly good: “It troubles me that others worry about this distinction (between what is poetry and what is prose): either the poem affects you, or it does not.”

Another literary competition with a charity reaping the rewards has a looming deadline. The Canadian Aid charity offers commercial publication of a previously unpublished book-length manuscript. Deadline is August 31.

Pie night at the hacienda

A reminder that the Being At Work poetry competition closes today. They will accept emailed submissions – but if you do that don’t forget to send a donation to the Movement for Canadian Literacy in lieu of an entry form (with your return address for tax receipt) to: LivingWork.ca P.O. Box 41171 Ottawa, Ontario, Canada K1G 5K9

We had a pie double whammy last night. To start with I made my first pizza in years and years and was thrilled to find it closely resembled my favourite Pizza Express selection, the Siciliana. I do not own a pizza stone but it worked fine on one of those pizza pans with holes in the bottom for circulation. Unfortunately it didn’t last long enough to photograph, but I trust you all know what a pizza looks like. Here’s my recipe:

Rhona’s Pizza Siciliana
Crust:
3/4 c warm water
1 pkg yeast
1 tsp sugar
1-3/4 c flour
1-1/4 tsp salt
1 tbsp olive oil
* Dissolve the yeast and sugar in about 3 tbsp of the warm water. Let stand 5-10 minutes until foamy. Mix the flour and salt together and place in mixing bowl: add the dissolved yeast and the rest of the water, mixing together until you have a soft pliable dough, adding a little flour as needed. Knead for 8-10 minutes until smooth and elastic. As you knead, chant to yourself: this will make my arms strong for badminton. (Or throw the lot into your mixer with the dough hooks and just walk away for 10 minutes, until you get the same result less the exercise.)
* Place the dough in a large greased bowl, cover with plastic, and leave for 1-2 hours to double in bulk.
* Punch it down, knead into a ball and then roll out to fit a 12″ pizza pan. Place on a plate or tray sprinkled with cornmeal. You can at this stage cover and refrigerate or freeze till needed, because you will be busy making…
Sauce:
1 small can tomato paste (about 1/3 cup)
1 tomato paste can water
1/2 tsp salt
1 tbsp good quality olive oil
1/2 tsp oregano
dash pepper
dash tabasco
* Spread half the sauce over the pizza and top with:
2-3 thin slices ham, in 1/4 inch strips
2-3 canned (not marinated) artichoke hearts, quartered
1-2 tbsp chopped black (kalamata are nice) olives
1 large garlic clove, chopped finely (not pressed, you have to be able to sprinkle it)
2-3 white mushrooms, sliced
Drizzle the other half of the sauce over the toppings and sprinkle with:
1 generous cup shredded mozzarella
1/4 cup freshly grated parmesan
* Finish with:
2 tbsp good quality olive oil
Freshly ground black pepper
* Heat the pizza pan and the oven to 425f. Slide the pizza onto the pizza pan and cook for 20-25 minutes until the base and the topping are golden.

I have a Transparent Apple tree (yes Virginia, you can see the apples) which has started to toss away its fruit, so I am in my annual scramble for apple recipes. For dessert we had fake tarte tatin, from a wonderfully devious Delia recipe. It is incredibly simple and pure. I strongly advise you dispense with the cinnamon, and don’t bother making pastry: use puff pastry. As you will see my end product doesn’t look quite like Delia’s but the taste is reliably heavenly.

Crumbling allegiances to British food

I get raised eyebrows by the pair when I respond to the question “what do you miss about Britain?” with “the food”. But it’s true. Somehow, perhaps in an effort to stem the flood of immigrants, a myth has been perpetuated that the only food available in the UK is overcooked vegetables, slabs of meat and inedible puddings with strange names. In reality, the countryside is dotted with gastro-pubs offering superb menus; London has the staggering range of cuisine you’d expect of a city of 7 million; and the array of produce and ingredients in supermarkets and specialty shops is the boon of proximity to the Continent and beyond.

That having been said, the Guardian recently offered a grisly list of traditional British dishes that are falling off the nation’s menus, either because they don’t suit the low fat high speed preparation needs of contemporary cooks or because their ingredients – offal (such as calves’ feet or pig cheeks) or game (such as rooks or hare) – are no longer popular.

I was sad to see fruit crumble among the Ten most threatened puddings:

  1. Calf’s foot jelly
  2. Junket
  3. Sussex pond pudding (suet and lemon)
  4. Kentish pudding pie (rice and pastry)
  5. Dorset dumplings (apples and suet)
  6. Lardy cake
  7. Simnel cake
  8. Malvern pudding (fruit crumble)
  9. Singin hinnies (fried scone)
  10. Spotted dick

For those who don’t number fruit crisps on their hit list, there’s a wonderful recipe for Peach and Blackberry Crisp (I made it with apples, blackberries and blueberries and it was fabulous) that has pecans in the topping.

Raspberries and blueberries

A nice campus to visit is Virtual University. Cheap (US$20 for up to 4) classes and one useful freebie that’s already underway this week: How to Prevent Identity Theft and Online Fraud. They have courses in PaintShopPro for anyone that has this cheaper-than-Photoshop application, and some writing classes (but no poetry, at least not this time).

I happened upon a leaflet promoting the Urban Farm Market and Urban Feast Stage which are being offered (free!) as part of Open Air 2006 right through till September. Upcoming on July 23 is featured chef Christopher Moore of the Union Club, July 30: Rick Choy from Hotel Grand Pacific; August 6: Mike Upward, James Bay Inn; August 13: Patrick & Christabele Simpson, The Marriott Inner Harbour. I fear I might be turning into a food demo junkie…

Fresh fruit abounds. I weakened at the sight of a flat of raspberries at the Red Barn Market last week and brought them home to my freezer. I have a couple of good recipes already. I tried the very tasty Gâteau au Yaourt à la Framboise from a wonderful blog, Chocolate & Zucchini which Bonnie sent me a while ago. At that point I was a little short on raspberries so I used half blueberries and it worked well. I’m going to try her blueberry coffee cake recipe next.

From the Lighthearted Cookbook, I have long been a fan of Raspberry-Yogurt Küchen, which has a shortbread base and berries smothered in a baked creamy yogurt topping: particularly nice I think if you make it ahead and served chilled. This time I substituted mostly loganberries, which seemed to me to lack a little zip. Here’s a slightly amended version (I no longer own the cookbook so I’m not sure where I deviated):

Base
1½ cups flour
½ cup sugar
1½ tsp baking powder
1/3 cup butter
1 egg
1 tsp vanilla
3 cups fresh or frozen raspberries
Topping
2 tbsp plain flour
2 cups plain yogurt
1 egg lightly beaten
2/3 cup sugar
2 tsp grated lemon rind
1 tsp vanilla

  • Mix flour, sugar, baking powder, butter, egg and vanilla. Mix well and press into a 10″ square cake pan or springform or flan dish. Sprinkle with raspberries.
  • In a mixing bowl, sprinkle flour over yogurt. Add egg, sugar, lemon rind and vanilla and mix until smooth. Pour over berries.
  • Bake in 350f/180c oven for 70 minutes or until golden.

Peace reigns, most of the time, in the foster animal kingdom:

Is nothing safe?

Appalled to see that a salmonella outbreak in the UK was traced to Cadbury’s chocolate bars! But relieved to see that the source was not the chocolate but the crumb base. So purists can rest easy and carry on with that therapeutic intake.

Yesterday I found the perfect activity for the first gentle day of our heat wave: a visit to Merridale Cidery. We did the self-guided tour to see where and how the cider was made, admired the acres of apple trees and then enjoyed a small tasting of half a dozen of their products. Apple juice was thoughtfully provided for our under-age companion, who was at an age to enjoy the faerie fixtures that were strategically placed to help her endure the tour.

Scrumpy and Traditional Cider were my favourites. In West Country dialect, “scrump” meant to steal apples, and so Scrumpy was the name for pilfered apple cider. At 11% alcohol it was described as a “sit down” cider, and mercifully Merridale has departed from the traditional recipe which calls for raw pork as one of the ingredients.

Merridale puts on a mean spread in La Pommeraie Bistro, where we sat outside on the covered veranda and admired the orchard. I had some very nice pulled pork and apple crepes and the soup of the day, a cold honeydew-raspberry concoction which the waitress accurately described as “a smoothie without all the sugar”. It was garnished with chopped mint and gently flavoured with dill and was just the thing for a warm summer day.

The perfect surprise for this melting heat we’re facing was the arrival of my copy of Loutro Poems, an anthology of poetry by writers who attended World Spirit poetry courses 200-2005, lavishly illustrated with colour photos. As if I could forget…

Boris, Billy, Ted and a nice roast chicken

A little awkward to post while being harassed by my desk ornament (yes, folks, Boris is back… he had the sneezes and needed another round of antibiotics so, well, umm…)

Been reading a new Billy Collins (The Trouble With Poetry and Other Poems, Picador 2006) and liked this bit, from Monday:

The proofreaders are playing the ping-pong
game of proofreading,
glancing back and forth from page to page,
the chefs are dicing celery and potatoes,
and the poets are at their windows
because it is their job for which
they are paid nothing every Friday afternoon.

And a little more from Ted Hughes:

Much has been said about the therapeutic value of uninhibited writing, and though no doubt that can go to the point where mere confusion enters, it is one way of talking about the pleasures and the healing effects of reading and writing poetry.

All imaginative writing is to some extent the voice of what is neglected or forbidden, hence its connection with the past in a nostalgic vein and the future in a revolutionary vein.

I had a revolutionary experience with a roast chicken on the weekend. Following the guidance of Lynne Rossetto Kasper, I rubbed a whole chicken with olive oil and then slathered on a paste of 1 tbsp minced rosemary, 1 large minced garlic and 1/4 tsp salt, stuffed a couple of sprigs of whole rosemary in the cavity, covered it in plastic and refrigerated it for 24 hours, and then roasted it at 350f at 20-25 mins/pound, the first half on its breast and the second half breast side up, basting it with cooking juices at intervals until the thickest part of the thigh read 170f on the thermometer. It was gorgeous. The finish was to drizzle it with a 3-4 tbsp artisan balsamic vinegar (or slice it first and and drizzle with balsamic). It was beautifully moist and well flavoured.

While I told Jennifer about this triumph, she reminded me that only a few weeks ago I had been reading to her about the use of salt on meats. A magazine I’m extremely fond of is Cooks Illustrated, which is a food nerd’s dream, featuring experiments from America’s Test Kitchen (something I’d never heard of before I started reading the magazine). In the August issue they were performing merciless experiments on barbecued chicken and explained (with diagrams) the effects of salting chicken for 3 or 6 hours. At 3 hours the flesh does not absorb the salt and you end up with dry chicken (which is why popular wisdom says not to salt roasting meats). But after 6 hours, the salt is drawn into the flesh and you end up with flavour from the salt and from any other water-soluble flavouring agents (e.g. herbs and spices but not oil-solubles like capsaicin, the hot element of chili peppers). They prefer salting to brining if you are dealing with chicken because they found brining made the skin soggy, and salting leaves it crispier.