Lex Culinaria

A bloke we know

runs an organic meats shop at the local farmer's market. He's a really sweet guy. We met him through another organic producer. At the time, we were looking for a steady supply of organic milk for our home cheesmaking. That grew into discussions about making organic cheese comercially, and we even went to look at a cheesemaking facility that is for sale not too far away. Unfortunately, the production capacity of that facility was far greater than we could sensibly use.

Meanwhile I brought this bloke some of the pate I've been making (it seems as if the gelatin kick which gave way to the tomatoes kick which gave way to the ice cream kick has now given way to a pate kick). Anyway, we brought him some pate, which lead to discussions about us producing it for his shops here and in Calgary. Which is kind of cool. He kicks in the livers, we kick in the work. We made off with some organic beef and chicken livers for a trial run for next weekend. Last week I did a bison and port one and a chicken orange vodka ginger one and they were both great. This weekend I may try a beef-port one and maybe chicken and lemongrass.

Any ideas?

Argh.

I really hate web-based blogging sometimes. I had just finished composing a witty, lengthy post about the abysmal failure that was my garden, and Typepad lost it. Just went blank. argh.

While I grumble and try to recreate the blasted thing, here's the photo I was trying to download when Typepad decided that "insert photo" meant, "erase entire post".

And then it was winter...

I know now, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that summer is officially over in Edmonton. The sun didn't rise until 7:20 this morning and it set by 7:30 pm. It's chilly enough in the mornings now that I can see my breath. My tomatoes have hardly had a chance to ripen. They might never know what it feels like to be red and juicy, poor, green darlings. The grass is frosty early in the morning and the tile floor in our bathroom is cold. Our windows are starting to show condensation. Despite all this irrefutible evidence that winter is well and truly on its way, I have the crazy ability to harbour an absurdly naive hope of another warm spell.

I am afraid I can harbour that hope no longer, for, over the last week, I have experienced the truest, most dependable sign of the inevitability of winter.

I have start having rather more frequent urges to take my chocolate in (hot) liquid form rather than in bar form. Winter. Is. Here.

Over the years, my hot chocolate-making has evolved froma a fairly standard routine into one of deliberation and decadence. There is an art to creating this creamy, thick and rich brown liquid. It is certainly not the powdered Cadbury's mix with frustratingly tiny nuggets of dessicated marshmallow of my childhood. It's more of an Italian hot chocolate of the sort you might find at Brunetti's on Lygon Street in Carlton, the "Little Italy" of Melbourne. Rich and thick, just like George W.

To achieve this positively presidential hot chocolate, I gently simmer a mixture of 2/3 milk and 1/3 cream in a heavy-bottomed saucepan, in which I've floated some spices. Sometimes I use cinnamon bark, or cardamom pods. Sometimes peppercorns and a clove or two. Sometimes all of them.

This time to a total 3 cups of liquid, I added a few cloves, a small wedge of cinnamon bark and about 3 inches of peel (pith removed) from a lovely organic satsuma orange. Into the mixture I whisked 2/3 cup of organic sugar (half white, half brown), a coarsely chopped large (375gm) block of Green & Black's organic dark chocolate and a 1/4 cup of organic dutch process cocoa powder. I whisked gently for a few minutes, adjusting the sugar and the cocoa. The addition of the cocoa is not so much for flavour (although it does add some), as it is for the deep rich colour it imparts and the fact that, if you simmer it in the hot milk for a few minutes, it provides a slight thickening and makes the cocoa all the more creamy.

I fished out the bits of spice and peel and served this very hot. It's not a quaffing cocoa, rather a sipping and reading cocoa. Perfect for a late autumn afternoon spent half dozing on the couch with the (cutest) kittens (in the whole wide world) and a good book.

As for the good book, I highly recommend A Complicated Kindness by Miriam Toews. It's the perfect book for an afternoon like this one.

Best frigging sandwich in the whole world

I don't know about you, but I tend to assign catchy names to my (and my girlfriends') ex-boyfriends. Let's see.... There's Gold Card Gord, who thought everything in the world, including respect, could be bought with a gold card. Crapping Chris, who used my bathroom when he came to pick me up for our first (and last) date and left a surprise for me floating in my toilet. How romantic. There was also Clingy Swiss Guy who, on our second (also last) date, burst into tears because he didn't know "where this is going".

Clearly charmers, the whole lot of them. Especially Gold Card Gord, who asked me very kindly to collect his drycleaning for him on my way home from the hospital from my chemotherapy injection. What a gentleman.

None of them, however, were anything compared to Vanilla Blinds Gary. Yep. Gary's his real name. I feel no need to protect Vanilla Blinds Gary's  identity.

Vanilla Blinds Gary and I had a whirlwind romance. Spent every waking (non-working) moment together. Never mind that Gary was a little rough around the edges. Never mind that he had an offensively chauvinistic older brother and father, both of whom treated their wives like crap ... He was nothing like them of course. He was sweet. He was charming.

Then we moved in together.

And I found out that VBG was a lazy chauvinistic 27-year old buffoon who called his mummy for money when he'd spent all his.

Why was he calling his mummy for money? Because he wanted spending money for booze and fun when he went on his 10-day sailing trip around the Whitsunday islands on the Great Barrier Reef. Why did he have no beer money of his own? I haven't the foggiest, because, you see, I'd paid all the rent and all the bills and bought all the furniture and groceries. I have no idea what he spent his money on. You can tell where this is going, I'm sure. Why I couldn't at the time is beyond me.

On one particularly hot summer afternoon, during the last days of our relationship, Vanilla Blinds Gary and I lay sprawled on our two sofas in our underwear. It was a scorcher of a Melbourne summer day - close to 40 degrees. The back wall of our condo unit was all glass, and the apartment building next door looked right down into our living room. Next door guy was washing his dishes under the kitchen window, which looked directly into our suite.

Vanilla Blinds Gary, upon seeing that we were being watched, rolled on his side, opened his mouth and killed what was left of our relationship...

Vanilla Blinds Gary: "I suppose we should close the vanilla blinds."

Lex: "the what?"

Vanilla Blinds Gary: "The vanilla blinds. We should close them."

Lex: "I'm sorry... Did you say, "vanilla blinds"?"

Vanilla Blinds Gary: "Yeah. That guy next door is doing his dishes and he can see right in."

Lex: "Um. I think you might have meant "venetian"?"

Vanilla Blinds Gary: "You just think you're so smart. I'm sick of you thinking you're smarter than me. Just because you're a lawyer and you make more money than me doesn't mean you're smarter than me, you know."

Lex: "???"

That's why he's called Vanilla Blinds Gary. Other possible names were Gary the Leech or That Angry Wanker.

Lest you think I have nothing but criticism and derision to offer as regards Gary I will relate to you the one and only good thing that came of our relationship.

He made me The Sandwich once.

The Sandwich involves:

• good crusty bread
• mashed avocado (poss. with a squeeze of lemon)
• mayonnaise
• smoked Cheddar (VGB's wasn't smoked...I made the sandwich better!)
• cold roasted chicken

Even better if you lightly toast the bread with the cheese perched on top to get all melty.

Trust me. There is no other sandwich. Just like there's no other Vanilla Blinds Gary. Unless you count Cheap-Ass Rossy. But that's another story.

First the Pa-tay

There are two types of eaters in this world: those who leave their favourite thing until last so that they can savour it slowly after they's got the broad beans out of the way, and those who eat the best thing first because they have absolutely no self-control. This latter type is the sort who may or may not have had an extra coke float (coke spider, for those Aussies out there) last night because the first one was gone so fast. Oink.

So I suppose the latter type would also be the sort of person who, when faced with a list of food-related things to write about in a given period of time would invariably write about the pate first.

Which...holy cow. I had no idea that making pate could be so damn easy. Sure it's a kind of a mawkish brown colour. Sure it smells kind of gross. But it tastes divine, and I somehow always assumed it involved unpronounceable ingredients and Hogwarts-style incantations while stirring slowly clockwise and adding an anticlockwise stir every seventh time. Only I bet they would say "widdershins" instead of "anticlockwise".

I am so pleased to say I was w-r-o-n-g.

I made this pate last Sunday. (Some people go to church. I go to the kitchen.) and most of it is gone already!

I went to 4 different shops to find chicken liver - given the frequency with which I had to avoid this stuff in my childhood, I would have presumed great quantities of it would have been lurking next to the Kraft Dinner and Ichiban noodles at every local 7-eleven! Not so. I finally found a nice big package at Happy-Lucky-97-Good-Luck-Long-Life-Double-Happiness-Fortune-Wealth-Market.

Here's what I did - this makes kind of a lot - about 4 250ml serves - so share it with your friends.

• 1 medium onion, thinly sliced
• 1 cup chicken broth
• 1/2 teaspoon ground sage (or a tablepoon fresh)
• 600 grams fresh chicken livers
• 1/3 cup grand marnier
• 1/4 cup butter
• 1/2 teaspoon fresh cracked pepper
• 1 teaspoon sea salt (use less if your broth was salty)
• 2/3 cup heavy cream
• 1/2 cup butter, melted and clarified

Put the onions, broth, sage and liver together in a small pot. Heat until bubbling and cook, covered, stirring occasionally until the livers are cooked through.

Pour off the stock and transfer the liver and onions, grand marnier, butter, salt and pepper into a food processor or the bowl of your Kitchenaid (using the mixing paddle, not the whisk or the dough hook thingie) and process, slowly at first and then increasing speed gradually until smooth. The Kitchenaid will leave some small chunks of onion as compared to the food processor which should get everything quite velvetty.

Spread the mixture in a shallow container and pop it into the freezer to cool rapidly.

Meanwhile, whip the chilled cream into stiff peaks. Gently fold the chilled pate into the whipped cream. Spoon the pate into containers (I used 4 - 250ml jam canning jars, but wish I'd bought the smaller ones as they are easier to give to people and if you eat a whole one yourself you don't feel like such a pig). Rap the jars gently on the counter to release trapped air and top with enough melted butter to cover the pater by at least one millimetre. Place filled jars, wihtout lids, into the refrigerator to set for 4 hours. After that time, pop the lids on.

Stock up on nice crusty, grainy bread.

Anyone know where to get a kilo of duck or goose livers in Edmonton?

And because you darlings have all been so patient with me ( I promise I'll update my food blogging contest links soon!) here is a bonus photo of my darling fat little kitten, Fitzroy Possum Stanley-Maddocks, asleep on the printer as I'm typing. Awwwwww.

6 Days Late

I know.

I've been lazy.

Well, it's sightly more than sheer laziness that has been keeping me from blogging. It's the last remnants of summer (which, judging from the last few days of horrifically cold weather is well and truly over in this part of the world!) It's work being crazy. It's getting up at 5 am every morning for the last 4 weeks to allow some crazy army guys to yell at me and make me want to cry (but hopefully make me look like Angelina Jolie in Tomb Raider). It's needing a break. It's having this darn cold that won't go away. It's organizing a Louisiana style shrimp boil to raise money for the Red Cross (stay tuned for more on this front if you're in the Edmonton area....

So there you go. I finally feel like I can get back on this ride called life.

So, You may be wondering how I've been keeping myself busy. Well, I had a lovely camping trip a few weekends ago with our very good friend Joan & Kevin (you might remember them from our trip to New Orleans last January - we all feel so privileged to have been there. We absolutely fell in love with the city and are pulling for all those lovely strong people, especially Randy and Glen, to hang in there!)

Anyhoo....

Joan and Kevin and Cakes and I went to Aspen Beach camping. for a few days and had a blast. We mainly sat in the sun, read books, slept, cooked (surprise!) over the fire and ate.

Some of the more memorable food items from the weekend included...

Honey & soy grilled quails

Fire roasted pecan, fig and honey compote

Wood-fire grilled saganaki

If you've never done saganaki over a fire before...what are you waiting for. It was amazing. When I do it in a frying pan I usually dampen the cheese with a bit of water and then dredge it in flour first, but I forgot the flour so the cheese went on the grill au natural - and it still got crispy bits! I was a bit worried, that the cheese might melt right through the slats in the grill, but the nice thick slices of Kefalotyri held up beautifully! They were charred, crispy, gooey slabs of heaven - topped with fresh lemon of course!

Actually, that's just a small sampling of what we cooked and ate. I didn't know it was possible to eat that much food in two days, but there you go! Evil Joan brought a big bag of two-bite brownies and marshmallows for s'mores as well.

Sorry I've been gone so long. This week's menu features....:

• the best eggs bennie I've had in Edmonton so far
• a great meal at Cafe Select
• homemade pate (yum!)
• Apple and cinnamon custard
• roasted organic corn, lime and chile soup
• the BEST FRIGGING sandwich in the whole FRIGGING world
• AND.... creamy, divine, orange and clove hot chocolate....

As a parting gift. I present to you a photo of the best chocolate known to man. Yep. Lavender flavoured.

and a stunning sunset from the campground....