Lex Culinaria

The "V" word

Since we had the baby I've become keenly aware that practically everything we eat, sleep in, drink from, floss with or inhale is toxic. We're bombarded daily with the message that everything we do (and above all everything we eat) is bad for us and we'd best make sweeping changes to our homes, work, diet etc. lest we perish horribly in the very near future. Oh, and would we please buy this uber-expensive solution to our mortal peril.

I am a skeptic, especially as regards this zealous North American fear mongering about everything in existence. I am also a person who does not *ahem* take orders very well...or in fact at all. So this veritable avalanche of frequently alarmist (and not infrequently biased, green-washed) information is kind of grating on my nerves at the moment.

The problem is, as a new mother you're bombarded not only by the media, but by everyone else around you. People you normally like start proselytizing about the horrors of plastic and how disposable diapers will leach dioxins directly into your baby's tender little bottom. I've had it up to the gills with hearing about this stuff and especially hearing others list off, for the millionth time, all the steps you should be taking to protect your darling. I mean, honestly, who cares if your q-tips are organic?

Maybe that's why I'm having a hard time with the "V"-word. I can certainly rattle off a string of expletives that would curl my mother's hair. Well, if it weren't already curly. But I can't bring myself to say the "V"-word, lest I sound like one of those crazy Type-A Consumers who will have to take out a mortgage to pay their grocery bill because they'll only shop at a well-known lifestyle/image store masquerading as an actual healthier alternative to mainstream groceries. I buy from farmers markets, because I like knowing where my food comes from and because I think it tastes better. I am not, however, about to buy that $6 imported organic mango out of a sudden fear of pesticides because, come on - flying a fruit halfway around the world isn't exactly "organic", is it?

I guess I can't ignore some things much longer though. After my husband, having perused the weekly menu up on the white-board beside the fridge,  asked rather directly, "where's the meat?", I can't help but notice that we've been eating a lot less of the red stuff and a lot more of the green stuff lately. Not that it was ever a conscious decision...it's just sort of evolved that way over the last couple of years.

So no, I'm not a vegetarian. And I most certainly am not one of those "I'm a vegetarian, but I eat chicken and fish" sorts either. In fact, I'm going to cook me up a great big steak now. Bloody rare too. Well, I would, except I'm rather stuffed full of refried beans and avocado...

Baby food

With the impending birth of our first child, and my bi-weekly gig as a restaurant reviewer for CBC, it suddenly dawned on me the other day that just popping out to a restaurant is not going to be as easy as it once was… I’ve been mulling this over for a week or so now. Seems like I’m not the only one.

Since food is obviously such a big part of my life, and my husband’s life, I can’t imagine not wanting to share that with the Bambino. I’d love for him to learn to enjoy a good meal and a pleasant eating experience. I am not inclined at all to limit what I eat while breastfeeding. I couldn’t imagine cutting garlic out of my diet! What would I eat? I doubt very much that the Thai, or Greek or Italian women do. Besides, how is Bambino going to get to appreciate all sorts of flavours unless he gets to try them from the start?

Despite these intentions to expose him to the wonderful world of flavours and textures, That doesn’t solve my restaurant dining dilemma. Of course I can feed him those things at home just as easily as at a restaurant, but I’d love for him to be able to experience all different kinds of dining.

I continually pray that he will be like the “easy baby” some of our friends had – they would just bring him along in his “baby bucket” and plonk him on the floor. He’d snooze all the way through dinner. Even when he got to be a toddler, he was introspective, sat quietly and ate a little of everything that mum and dad did. There was no screaming or running or throwing or tantrums.

Knowing my husband’s childhood history, and obviously my own, I have serious doubts that Bambino will be such an easy baby, even when he’s small. Colicky is the word that springs to mind. Other words are tornado, disaster, “shhhhhhh!”, “sorry, I’ll pay for that” and “I think we should leave….”.

I’ve never really had a firm opinion on the topic of kids in restaurants. In my mind the appropriateness varies with the type of restaurant, age and type of kid, and type of parenting. Without having met Bambino yet, I can’t really assess what factors 2 and 3 might turn out to be, so that kind of leaves me in the dark (except at the extreme casual end) of factor 1. Can you say “99 cent pasta at Ikea”?

While I agree that there is a certain calibre of high-end dining that children under the age of say 7 or 8 should not go to, and then only if dressed in a cute miniature shirt and tie. What about everything else? There’s a great deal of room between the Ikea cafeteria and the dining room at the Hardware Grill. If, by some stroke of luck, we do manage to have a well-behaved child, why shouldn’t I be able to bring him out for dinner?

Better yet, any parents out there have any tips for getting, shame-free, through a dining experience with children in tow? Is crying okay (baby or parent?)? How much crying? Breastfeeding? Wriggling? Ages 0 to 9 months but not 9 months to 2 years?

If you say I’m stuck with Swedish meatballs and Lingonberry sauce, I’ll cry.

No farting while eating. Please?

Dear fellow diners,

I’ve tried to ignore it. I’ve tried not to care, but I just can’t go on like this any more.

We need to have a talk about table manners.

You heard me.

I love the experience of a good meal. That experience is made up of a lot of things…the taste of the food, the presentation of the meal, the service, atmosphere, décor. That’s not a newsflash for most people. What doesn’t often get included in that list of the intangible, but important, aspects of the dining experience is that it is influenced by table manners. Both your own and those of others around you.

As Miss Manners would (and did) say. The whole point of manners is to put in place rules so that everyone is comfortable and life is agreeable for all. How can you fault that. And what part of life is more worthy of being agreeable and comfortable than the dining experience. None, I say.

Bearing this in mind, I have taken the liberty of setting out below a few basic pointers that I’m sure you’ll agree will make the dining experience much more agreeable for all concerned. I am sad to say, all of these pointers are inspired by direct observances of actual people around actual tables in the recent past.

About cutlery and the use thereof:

• Your fork is not a front-end loader. Don’t overload it, it makes you look greedy. Besides, you have to open your mouth super wide to get it in and then your dining partner is forced to become acquainted with your tonsils. Eeeewwwwww.
• Learn to hold your fork properly, it should be used as a platform to convey food, not as a spear or pitchfork. Never, under any circumstances, should your fork be held in a clenched fist.
• The only thing with any business conveying food from plate to mouth is cutlery. Fingers are not cutlery. Unless you are having Indian or Ethiopian food, neither is bread.
• Cutlery is not a laser pointer or conductor’s baton. Do not use it to punctuate sentences or point stuff out to your dining companions.
• Wait until you are finished chewing and swallowing what is in your mouth before loading up again. Seriously. Otherwise you have to display mouth full of partly chewed food to the person opposite you in order to get the next load in which is gross beyond belief. Plus, it makes you look like a giant piggie.

About food and its path from table to mouth to stomach:

• Licking cutlery is gross. And dangerous. I know a guy whose tongue got pinched between fork tines. Ouch.
• Do not ever chew with your mouth open. It’s absolutely the grossest thing to have to look at. You might not mind so much, but it’s positively loathsome to those in whose line of sight you sit. If you have sinus problems take Sudafed before dinner. If you’ve got a cold, stay home in bed.
• No talking with food in your mouth. Using your hand to shield the fact that you are in fact talking with food in your mouth does not count. What you have to say cannot possibly be so important that it can’t wait 10 seconds, until you swallow,  to be said. Unless, of course, it is “FIRE!”, in which case, you are excused.
• Lip-smacking, slurping, noisy chewing, and other similar noises are gross and irritating. Cut it out.
• Do not reach across someone elses’ plate to help yourself to something. Ever. Even at home. Ask politely for the item to be passed.

Some other helpful basics:

• Under absolutely no circumstances is it acceptable to answer a cell phone or attend to a blackberry during a meal. To do so implies that the real live people with whom you are dining are less deserving of attention than some remote communication device that humankind managed to live without for the first million years of its existence. It’s the modern day equivalent of saying to someone at a cocktail party, “Oh, do excuse me. John’s just walked in and he’s far more important than you.” If you can’t help yourself, excuse yourself to the restroom or lobby to indulge – although never more than once per meal and not for any longer than it would take you to use the facilities normally. If you really can’t tear yourself away from the cell phone or blackberry for more than 30 minutes, you’re obviously too busy and important to be taking time for meals. Have lunch by yourself at your desk instead.
• I am deeply, profoundly disturbed by the fact that this next statement is even necessary: Please don’t fart (or belch) at the table. It’s just so very, fundamentally wrong.
• There are some foods that should only be eaten at home with people you love and who love you back: corn on the cob, crab and lobster come to mind.
• Ribs and wings should never be eaten in any restaurant that has cloth napkins. Yes, even if they are on the menu.
• Under no circumstances should your particular style of eating result in a later discovery of bits of food in your hair or that of your dining companions.
• Do not pick your teeth at the table. Excuse yourself to the bathroom. Plus there’s a mirror there which should make the job easier.
• Ladies: no applying makeup or looking in your compact mirror. That’s what the ladies room is for.
• Please do not snap your fingers, gesticulate wildly, clap or whistle to get your waiter’s attention. Brief eye contact and a nod will do the trick. If you do snap or whistle, your waiter has every right to ignore you. Or spit in your wine. Or both.
• The totally unnecessary rapid clinking of your spoon as you stir your coffee is the culinary equivalent of repeatedly clicking your pen in an exam. You may be okay with it, but it’s ruining someone else’s experience. It is possible to stir your coffee without making such a highly irritating noise.  Same thing goes for obsessive dish scraping.

Let me also point out that table manners at home in the privacy of your own four walls and in the presence only of those who are required by law or direct blood bond to continue to love, or at least tolerate, you are different from the manners required when out at a fancy restaurant. Every other experience falls somewhere in between.  This is not to say you shouldn’t be mindful of your manners around your family and friends, just that you can relax a little bit and know that there will likely be no social consequences if you manage to get a splash of sauce on your chin. The “no farting” rule stands though.

I think I’ve managed to get out all the really important stuff.

If you’ve got something to add, chime on in…

Wedding Season

Summer is the season of weddings. It's also the season of baking. Baking for weddings. Two of my favourite girls got married in the last month (my sister, Heat, and my mate, Tennille). Don't be silly. Not to each other. To their husbands.

My sister is not a very girly girl. That's an understatement. She's actually never outgrown the tomboy thing. She lives in jeans and t-shirts and has a hunting license. She shoots at deer. So when I was speaking to her a week or so before her outdoor, hiking wedding I jokingly asked whether she'd made any plans in the direction of a wedding cake. Of course not. So I volunteered to make one for her. When I enquired as to theme, flavour, shape, colour, I was met with a blank stare (inasmuch as it's possible to get a blank stare over email). I told her, "fine it's a pink cake for you then!"  She made the mistake of issuing a challenge. She dared me to make a pink cake. Mwaaa haa haa haa.

I present to you. Quite possibly the girliest, pinkest cake of all time for my sister the tomboy. Why yes. That IS edible glitter on the cake.

I can't recall how I ended up volunteering to make little cookie replicas of my freind tennille's wedding cake for her guests. But that's what I did. I used the same cookie dough I made snowflakes out of at Christmas, but with plain vanilla flavouring instead of lavender and lemon. The trick to making the dark chocolate royal icing is to use a very good duch process cocoa, not brown food colouring.

See the resemblance?

Hi

Remember me? I used to post here.

Unfortunately, both Cakes and I came down with a nasty virus on Easter Monday and on top of that I have worked a kazillion hours at the job that pays the bills. So. No posting. Boo. Also, no really great food that is worth posting about. I have been living off of bananas and my stash of tinned soup that hides in the bottom drawer of my credenza at work (handily holds about 24 tins!). I never want to see Campbell's Chunky Chicken and Sausage Gumbo or Fajita Beef again. Seriously folks. 24 tins. That's a lot of soup.

However, there is light at the end of the tunnel. My throat is somewhat less raspy today and I can smell things intermittently, so may attempt some cooking later...

In the meantime, how about a grautitous photo of my cats...

From a Land Down Under

As this post is getting published (thanks, handy future-publication button in Typepad) My plane will be taxiing down the runway and I'll be off for a fun-filled 8 days (plus flying time and way too much time in assorted airport lounges) in Melbourne to see one of my best mates get hitched. See y'all on the 1st of March (or as soon thereafter as I manage to get over the jetlag!!)

In the meantime, I'll be featuring some of my favourite archived posts to keep you busy while I'm away. There'll be a test when I get back so study up!

Damn you Jena

You just had to tell me about the sale on at Home Outfitters.

Aussie Aussie Aussie Oi Oi Oi!

I woke up this morning feeling very patriotic about my adopted second home. Hardly surprising given the outcome of the recent election here, eh? Political commentary aside, I did wake up this morning with the tune of Advance Australia Fair running through my head!

And do you know why, possums?

It's Australia Day.

In honour of Australia's birthday, I coked up a great Australian snack tradition: Lamingtons. And I have the burnt fingers to prove it!

Purportedly lamingtons were invented as a way for good Aussie housewives to use every last scrap of the left over cakes that might have gone a little stale. How all these Australian households had these acres of left over cake at risk of going stale is beyond me. In our house, cake never lives long enough to even contemplate getting halfway to stale.

I am not quite sure how this part of the history of the lamington - as a thrifty housewive's trick - meshes with the other part of lamington history - that it is named after Baron Lamington, but there you go. I'm sure it all fits together very neatly in an Australian sort of way. There may be beer involved.

Essentially, lamingtons are little squares of sponge cake sandwiched together with jam in the middle, coated with a chocolatey fondant icing and rolled in coconut. Sound easy? Let me explain the burnt fingers.... You see, it's virtually impossible to get the icing onto the little squares of cake - the cake is crumby, the icing is sticky. If the icing is too thick, it tears the surface off the cake. If its hot enough to be thin, you'll burn your fingers on the sugar. That is why, although I started with 60 little nude lamingtons perched hopefully on the counter, only 30 of the little buggers got chocolate and coconut coats. I give up. Besides, it's hard to dip the little cakes in chocolate when all your fingers are covered with massive heat blisters.

Lamingtons are tasty little treats, but very sweet. So unless you've got a real sweet tooth, or you're a fair dinkum Aussie with a lamington addiction and are on a huge nostalgia trip, the burnt fingers may not be worth it...

If you're still keen to try your hand at these - have a go at this recipe, but I'd suggest slightly more milk (or some rum or vanilla) in the icing mix so that it's a little runnier without being too hot. If the icing in the pot starts to set up while you're still working, just bung it back on the stove for a minute or two to melt it up a little.

I've been to cities that never close down
From New York, to Rio, and old London Town.
But no matter how far, or how wide I roam
I still call Australia home...

-Peter Allen

Western Canadian Food Bloggers in the Press!

Check out the latest issue of Western Living Magazine to get the scoop on some of Western Canada's food blogging community including:

Lex Culinaria, 

Pacific Palate,

Waiter Blog,

VanEats,

Wine & Vine,

Gismondi On Wine,

I Like To Cook,

Truffle Mutt and

Savour Life.

The article by Andrew Morrison of Vancouver, features some great recipes including Lex Culinaria's Asian Braised Short Ribs!

Lex Culinaria's Evil Scientist Sister

Remember how I told y'all that my evil scientist sister has taken to mocking Lex Culinaria in her (semi) semi monthly e-newsletters???? Huh? Well, she's done a pretty funny version of last week's Chocolate Sour Cream Self-Saucing Pudding recipe. View it HERE.

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