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For our anniverary, my husband and I visited the delightful city of Montreal.  We’d been there before, mainly to spend time at the city’s incomparable international jazz festival, held every summer, usually spanning the last week of June and the first week of July.  The weather is glorious in Montreal at this time of year which means for foodies like us, that the gorgeous produce of Quebec is beginning to flow into the cities, ending up in our grateful mouths.

While I could go on and on about the good time we had (the music, the rockin’ Asian cuisine we scarfed on the fly, the hotel’s rooftop pool), I simply must take this opportunity to endorse one of the best restaurants we’ve ever visited…Au Pied de Cochon.  If you don’t understand French, this literally means “at the foot of the pig,” thus the title of this blog.  We’ve been twice, and each time we enjoyed meals that nearly rendered us comatose with the pleasure of them.  (The first time we dined here I ordered the roasted pig’s foot, the menu’s crown and glory.  It was prepared in a wood-fired oven, tender and deeply flavored, sauced with a gravy of port and wild mushrooms.)

Au Pied de Cochon is not for the faint-hearted.  There are no watercress sandwiches here,  no chicken fingers or peanut butter for children, nothing for the fussy eater of any age.  In order to enjoy this restaurant, you must be prepared to face a menu of offal, game meats, and bizarre sea creatures.  You must be prepared to be served extremely large portions of the aforementioned.  In short, you must be very hungry and open-minded.   And despite the hefty price-tag, this place is casual, noisy, packed every night of the week, and an absolute hill of fun.

The first time we ate here a few summers ago, we, in our ignorance, ordered the cold seafood platter as an appetizer to share.  Our waiter mentioned that it was large, but he neglected to tell us that it involved half a lobster, and at least two dozen other pieces of shellfish, including some delightful sea snails whose shelled were packed with local butter and herbs.  Also included were langoustines, whole crabs, raw oysters…you name it.  But we learned our lesson from that, and on this past visit, we both ordered salads as first courses.  Salad, my foot.  I mean, pig’s foot.

My salad was the highlight of my meal, I think the best thing I’ve eaten all year.  It was a large plate of five or six varieties of wild, edible greenery with the barest hint of mustard-y vinaigrette.  But here’s the kicker…the salad was topped with a seared pigeon liver and a perfectly poached egg.  The mere thought of this dish is making me swoon, because it was SO CLEAR that the ingredients had been expertly, lovingly chosen and prepared.

My second course, was bison steak-frites, which was really super-delicious…the fries were served in a sundae glass lined in a brown paper cone the size of a dunce cap and they had been cooked to golden-brown perfection in DUCK FAT!

My handsome husband Joe’s second course, though, this was a true spectacle of mouth-watering delight, the stuff of culinary legend, a dinner story that we’ll be telling people for years to come…Duck in a Can.  That’s exactly what it says on the menu (well, Conserve de Canard, but you get it), and that’s exactly what you get.  A whole half a duck is wiggled into an aluminum can with foie gras, herbs, demi-glace, salt, garlic, and the barest whiff of balsamic vinegar.  The whole thing is cooked under pressure for who knows how long, and then the can is brought to your table closed, along with a plate of mashed potatoes and thick country bread.  Your server ceremoniously whips out an opener and proceeds to pour the contents of the can over the potatoes and bread, the fragrance of the whole plate rendering you giddy and moaning…like getting slapped in the face with something really good.

Go to Au Pied du Cochon if you are in Montreal.  Save up for two months if you have to.  It’ll cost you about $150 (two courses with wine and dessert) for two.  Just don’t forget to make reservations because it’s packed with locals every night of the week. 

I haven’t been posting lately because of the “vegan-at-home” thing we’re doing.  I wish I could say I’ve had some resounding triumphs and flashes of culinary inspiration, but I haven’t.  So for the sake of having SOMETHING to write about, I’m giving my recipe for mac and cheese, in all it’s animal-fat-filled glory.

For ingredients, you’ll need a pound of pasta (cooked just UNDER al dente, elbows or penne work best, cooled under plenty of water, and drained), a stick and a half of unsalted butter butter, four oz. of flour, a teaspoon of sea salt, a quarter teaspoon of cayenne pepper, a quart of half and half, 2 cups of buttermilk, a pound of extra sharp cheddar cheese sliced or grated, and breadcrumbs.

Grease a 9″x13″ baking dish or aluminum foil pan.  Add the pasta to it.  In a large sauce pan, melt the butter over medium heat.  When it begins to foam, whisk in the flour, salt, and cayenne.  Whisk constantly for one minute to make a blond roux.  Turn the heat up to medium high, and gradually whisk in the half and half.  Keep whisking.  When  the mixture is smooth and thick, whisk in the buttermilk.  When steam begins to rise from the sauce again, gradually drop in the cheese, and whisk until all is smooth and melted.  If you’re using a saucepan that tends to scorch, keep the heat down.  It will turn out fine, it’ll just take longer (I don’t recommend using non-stick for this because of all the whisking; it’ll scratch the coating, which isn’t good for the pan or for you.).

Turn off the heat and pour the cheese sauce over the pasta, scraping out the sauce pan with a nylon spatula.  Use the spatula to then incorporate the sauce throughout the pasta and to help express any air bubbles.  Top with breadcrumbs, parsley and paprika.  Ideally, let the mac and cheese sit for half and hour before baking at 350 degrees for one hour, or until browned and bubbly.  It can also be stored covered in the fridge before baking, but let it sit out at room temperature for an hour before baking.

This is very popular at parties, and people will begin to request it from you.  Brace yourself for the pet peeve that bothers me most about this recipe…Other people never bake it enough!  Party-goers can become impatient for it, or it’s sharing oven space with three other casseroles, and the top won’t get brown and crsipy.  But it’s still fabulous stuff.

This recipe can be tweaked into the stratosphere, by the way.  Chunks of ham, tomatoes,  broccoli, or fresh spinach leaves are yummy additions.  If you want to prepare it for a fancier grown-up dinner party, think about dividing the mixture of sauce and pasta into individual ramekins and adding truffle shavings or chunks of seafood.  Top each serving with buttered panko (Japanese breadcrumbs), put the ramekins on a cookie sheet and bake at 350 degrees for fifteen or twenty minutes.  Feel free to experiment by adding other cheese, too.  I don’t recommend totally eliminating the cheddar, though, because it contributes a great deal to the flavor profile of the finished dish.  It lends incomparable smoothness, and the natural acids from the extra sharp cheddar (as well as those from the buttermilk) cut through the richness of all the butter and cream.  Those acids are what makes you take bite after bite, because they keep your palate from being fatigued from the fats in the dish.

I haven’t posted in a LONG time, I know.  The simple reason…I really don’t cook at home anymore as much as heat stuff up.  Veganism at home is NOT the same experience as dining in the high falutin’ raw food restaurants popping up in larger cities.  Those places have the time, money, and resources to do some truly remarkable things with vegetables.  Even if I did have the time and inclination to prepare something outlandish like flash-frozen radish and lotus root salad with cilantro oil and beet pollen, that’s not exactly the sort of dish you want to cozy up to after a long hard day at work.

One thing I’ve made more than once is a very warming, satisfying lentil soup.  It has distinct Indian overtones (hence the title of this post…”dal” is the Hindi word for lentils), with a spicy kick.  Moreover, it’s VERY easy to throw together and walk away.

In a large, heavy-bottom stock pot saute two chopped garlic cloves and one chopped onion in a quarter cup of canola oil.  When golden, add 2 quarts of water, a vegetable bouillon cube, a half pound of washed lentils, 4 cups (packed) baby spinach, 1/2 cup chopped cilantro and/or mint, 1/2 teaspoon cayenne, a 1/2 teaspoon of curry powder, and a tablespoon of tomato paste.  Bring to a boil, then simmer on very low heat for an hour or more.  Check for seasoning.

With some warm naan (supermarkets around me carry it, an Indian flatbread) and a salad of chick peas, cucumber, and tomatoes with mustard vinaigrette, it’s a simple, hearty supper.

My husband’s away this weekend (the recently vegan husband, the only one I’ve got), and I’m getting together with friends.  I thought I’d contribute dessert, and the thought of making some bizarr-o concoction full of whole wheat flour, applesauce, and canola oil just didn’t cut it for me.  So if vegan hubby Joe’s not going to be at the get-together, why not make a big, fat, decadent chocolate cake?  I’ve got a dynamite recipe that’s so good and moist, it doesn’t even need frosting.  I usually bake it in a tube pan because of that, but feel free to divide the batter in three 8-9 inch round pans or make cupcakes (yield will be around 30) out of it.  Just be sure to reduce the baking time to approximately 15 minutes for round cakes, and around twelve minutes for cupcakes.

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees.  Grease and flour your choice of pan.  Cream two sticks of softened butter with 2 cups of sugar for five minutes on medium speed in a stand mixer.  If you haven’t got a stand mixer, poor you.  Meanwhile, sift together 2 and a 1/4 cups of all-purpose flour, 2 teaspoons baking soda, 1/2 teaspoon baking powder and 1/2 teaspoon salt.  Set aside.  Boil 3/4 cup of water and pour it over 3/4 cup of GOOD cocoa powder in a small bowl and whisk.  Pour a cup of buttermilk into the cocoa mixture and whisk again.  In the mixer bowl, with the beater still running and the speed on low, add four eggs, one at a time.  Stop the mixer, scrape down the sides of the bowl, and start’er up again on low.  Add the flour mixture alternately with the cocoa mixture in four increments.  Stop the mixer and scrape down the bowl once or twice.  Take care not to overmix the batter, just mix it until everything is incorporated and the streaks of flour are gone.  Scrape the batter into your prepared pan, spread it evenly, and bang it firmly on your counter a couple of times to express any air bubbles.  If you’re using a tube pan like me, bake the cake for approximately 35-40 minutes, testing for doneness with a toothpick.  Cool for 15 minutes in the pan, then remove the cake from the pan by inverting it on a rack and cool it completely.  Frost, glaze, or dust with confectioner’s sugar as you desire.  

Well, I’m going to sign off and go figure out how I’m going to glaze this cake for the party tomorrow.  I CAN’T WAIT to have a piece of it!  I don’t know how I’m going to last.

As I embark toward the culinary frontier of veganism at home, I’ve recently tried several meat and dairy substitutes.  I never thought I’d be doing such a thing, but I’m trying to keep an open mind about it.  The most surprising thing about meat substitutes is their variety.  I had no idea there were so MANY of them!

The early frontrunner for Most Like the Real Thing is Quorn Chik’n.  A bizarre name, to be sure, that is made even more bizarre by the use of an apostrophe.  There is a lot of creative punctuation in the brand names of fake meat.  I’m postulating that the manufacturers of this kind of stuff are making up for the lack of real meat with punctuation, hoping that the whimsical nature of it will distract the eater from savoring the foodstuff too deeply.

Anyway, it was much to my un-surprise that this Quorn Chik’n is the most realistic because it contains ANIMAL protein in the form of egg whites.  Oops, I should have read the label more carefully before I bought it.  So Quorn is not a vegan product, but definitely legal for the vegetarian.  I wouldn’t attempt anything crazy with it, but it bakes up fine in the oven, and I’m even thinking about making a pot pie with it. 

Quorn is, essentially, mycoprotein, a prolific fungus that will literally grow for MILES if unchecked… a giant underground mushroom colony, if you will.  The texture is remarkably accurate for coming close to the feeling of meat in your mouth, and the flavor is vaguely garlicky and savory/sweet.  It’s okay!

Second-runner up for taste/flavor accuracy is Tofurky Hickory Smoked Deli Slices.  My dog came running when I opened the package to make a sandwich for my husband, which was a good sign.  The dog spat out the vegan cheese I opened at the same time, though.  I had to taste it immediately for myself, and I concurred with Buddy (the dog, not my husband).  I’m not looking to be libelous, so I won’t harsh on the brand of “cheese” right now, but it was beyond bizarre…grainy, yet flexible and sticky.  Early samples are revealing that for fake cheese to be even remotely palatable, it must contain casein (a milk protein, see previous post), thus rendering it merely vegetarian, not vegan.

Third runner up is Gimme Lean Smart Ground Crumbles.  The texture is right on the money, but the flavor is slightly off the mark.  I would not eat this stuff unadorned unless I was having a craving for mulch.  But with plenty of veggies and gravy, it was a-okay.  I made a shepherd’s pie with it.  I made the gravy out of vegetable broth, paprika, garlic, and arrowroot, which was alright, too. 

I’m approaching this vegan-cooking-at-home thing as a challenge to somehow maintain all the comfy familiarity of regular meals.  I’m hitting the mark sometimes, sometimes falling short.  I’ve got to keep trying, though, because I flatly refuse to conscript myself to a future full of nothing but brown rice and carrots.  Now THAT would put me over the edge.

Last Saturday night, while we were out for our weekend date, my husband informed me that he’d like to have a go at vegetarianism…and then he even said veganism.  He said this while we were munching a beef quesadilla, by the way, with our respective orders of chile relleno con queso and enchiladas mole fast approaching.

I was less surprised at his idea than you might think.  Only that afternoon, we’d read an article in the weekend Wall Street Journal about a nearly-vegan pro football player, Tony Gonzalez.  The story chronicled Gonzalez’ road to eliminating meat and dairy from his diet, what worked for his training and health, and what didn’t. 

Truth be told, my husband does not adore vegetables in the same way I do, so if one of us would decide to be a vegan (I was at various points in my impressionable youth, a vegetarian), it would probably be me.  Moreover, my family would eat meals based around vegetables, especially in the summer.  My husband did not grow up doing that.  To me, sitting down to a table covered in steamed corn, sliced tomatoes, and zucchini pancakes seems downright tantalizing.   

Cooking this way will be a challenge.  I’m going to avoid too much “faux” this and that, but I am willing to try meat and cheese substitutes to see which brands are acceptable.  I’ll chronicle our vegan adventures in following posts, but for right now let me just say that last night I found myself searing Italian-flavored soy sausages to go with our whole-wheat pasta and pesto.  I used fake parmesan cheese to make the pesto, I’m ashamed to say. It wasn’t hideous. It was pretty good.  All the other ingredients were real and fresh, right down to the basil, toasted pine nuts, garlic, and olive oil.  But I’m sure Mario Batali would have slapped my face had he been there.

By way of confession, I have no desire to eliminate meat and dairy completely from my diet, and haven’t.  Yesterday I ate two barbecued spare ribs for a mid-morning snack, quickly chased by a full-fat plum yogurt.  But I gladly enjoyed almond milk instead of organic two-percent.  Almond milk is totally delicious, if you haven’t tried it, much better mouth-feel than soy.

If ever I should fail at my lofty goal of snail farming, I’m thinking that a fun and lucrative enterprise might be a gourmet hot dog place.  When I say gourmet, I’m not fooling.  My idea is to make EVERYTHING the place sells from scratch.

Sound ambitious?  Well, I suppose it is.  But when I think of the peculiar culinary skill set I’ve had the chance to develop, it’s really not so crazy an idea.  If you look at my past blogs, you’ll see I already know how to make sauerkraut.  And my chili recipe is rockin’, if I may say so.  I also know how to bake bread, so we’re good on the buns as well. 

You may be saying to yourself, “What about the ketchup and mustard, smarty pants?”  It’s true I’ve never tried to make ketchup at home, but Jeffrey Steingarten gives detailed instructions in one of his books.  That should do, because he wouldn’t have published the recipe if it sucked.  As far as mustard goes, that’s a snap, but the key to it would be making a mustard that’s both unique and accessible to the palate of the average hot dog eater.  Onions?  I’ll grow them, or at least buy local and/or organic ones.  Relish?  I’ll put up the pickles myself and take it from there.

Last but not least, lurks the main matter, the hot dog itself.  I believe with perseverance, excellent equipment, and the best locally-raised pork that money can buy, I could make outrageously good hot dogs.  Oh, and I’d probably need a little smokehouse built, too, to give the dogs some extra nuance.  I happen to know of a farmer in my area that sells butchered hogs that are quite literally the best I’ve ever tasted.  Maybe he has the facility to pre-smoke the meat for me!

I’m getting very excited about my idea.  The snails might have to wait.  They’re good at that, though.  They’re never in a rush for anything.

My very generous boss Doreen treated us to a really lovely meal to celebrate the holidays and the six-month anniversary of Green Harvest Food Emporium, the place she owns and where I work.  She solicited our ideas about where we’d like to have dinner about a month and a half ago.  The general chatter was, “Why don’t we go somewhere we’ve all wanted to go but never have?”  Oddly enough, that’s a tall order to fill when you live in a fairly insular region and are trying to accomodate a bunch of foodies who have for years considered dining out their first choice for entertainment.

Doreen settled on Cavallo’s, a slightly mysterious villa I’ve passed by many times.  It’s considered more of an inn/event space.  It’s not quite a house, nor quite a hotel, and it’s not open regularly for dinner.  Nevertheless, the owner of Cavallo’s, Shirley, agreed to cook for us last Saturday night.  Doreen brought a selection of excellent wines along, and we arrived at Cavallo’s eagerly awaiting a special meal.

Much to our surprise, the space was open to only us that night.  The outside gate was closed after we entered the driveway.  Each table was impressively and expensively laid (a wedding was to happen there New Year’s Eve), but one was set aside for our party of six.  We settled in, all of us oohing and aahing over the odd yet grandiose surroundings.  The inside of Cavallo’s is largely an enchanting series of rooms and halls, decorated with amazing antiques and marble floors and staircases.  Shirley encouraged us to explore between courses, and thank heavens she did.  The meal she prepared was delicious, ENORMOUS, and the little walks in between were quite necessary.

Shirley began by serving us a roasted vegetable stack, a fabulous piece of homemade sausage, all accented by vin cotto.   Next came meltingly tender winter squash ravioli in a carmelized onion and muscat grape sauce.  The third course was prawns and langoustines in a lobster reduction, served with a butter-toasted baguette for scooping up the sauce.  And then came the entrees, where we all had a choice of dishes.  I chose the two-inch veal chop with demi-glace, which was just yummy.  But one of the funniest moments of the evening came when my husband’s entree was set before him.  He had chosen the half duck, which arrived in all its burnished, glazed glory on, no kidding, a PLATTER!   It was surrounded by whole roasted fruits and vegetables, easily enough food for three people.  Dessert was comparitively simple, but delicious, a fresh orange cake with lemon curd, strawberry coulis, and whipped cream.

So if you’re ever coming to Easton, PA, consider seeking out Cavallo’s on route 611.  If you’re lucky Shirley will let you in for dinner, and with advance notice you can stay in one of their suites for the night.  You’ll probably need to after the coma-inducing meal.

I cooked a really delicious dish to bring to a New Year’s Eve party.  It was inspired by a recipe that came in a pamphlet featuring beer as a cooking ingredient.  I rarely cook to recipes verbatim because it’s boring, and sometimes you just KNOW by looking at a recipe that it can be improved.  The dish I made is Shrimp in Habanero Cream Sauce with Carribean Yellow Rice. 

I started with a pound and half of 16/20 Gulf shrimp.  I peeled them completely, putting the shells into a saucepan as I went.  After deveining the shrimp, I laid them into a nine by thirteen baking dish, and covered them with three chopped garlic cloves, half a sliced yellow onion, and a bottle of beer.  I covered the dish with plastic wrap and put it in the fridge to marinate overnight.  In the saucepan of shells, I added a teaspoon of sea salt and two cups of water.  I brought it to a boil, and then simmered it for an hour.  I strained out the shells, and put the finished stock into the fridge until the next day. 

So cut to the next day…I pulled the shrimp from the marinade and discarded it.  In a large pot I prepared yellow rice (any good recipe will do, or a high-quality packaged one from Spain or Mexico).  While the rice cooked, I made the cream sauce.  In a saucepan, saute five chopped scallions in one tablespoon each of butter and olive oil.  Mince one or two dried habaneros, and add them to the pot.  Season with salt.  Sprinkle in a quarter cup of flour and cook to a light roux.  Zip the heat up to medium high and whisk in the reserved shrimp stock, two tablespoons of tequila, and one cup of heavy cream.  When the sauce is thickened and glossy, turn the heat to medium and add the shrimp.  Cook them until just opaque.  Turn off the heat and cover to keep warm.

When the rice is done cooking, stir in a good teaspoon of finely minced fresh lime zest and a couple tablespoons of fresh chopped cilantro.  Put it on a platter, and pour the sauce and shrimp on top.  Garnish with well-toasted coconut and a little more fresh cilantro.

The partygoers LOVED this dish, and I have to say it was pretty tasty.  It was fiery, yes, but that could easily be adjusted to your tastes by simply using less dried habanero.  This is a keeper.  Call it Camarones Crema de Habanero con Arroz and impress your friends!

I was recently twice miffed while eating out.  On the first occasion, my husband and I had gone out to dinner at a local pub.  I ordered a rib-eye steak sandwich and he had the jambalaya.  Two weeks after that occasion, I ordered a delmonico steak entree special at a local cafe.  Not only was the cut not a true delmonico, but it was spoiled AND cooked to well when I had ordered it medium rare.  Nasty.

My sandwich at the pub was adequate, but the jambalaya was a bizarre concoction.  Let’s just say it was not the hearty soup/stew you’d expect, it clearly lacked a roux, it was EXCRUCIATINGLY spicy, and there were mushrooms in it. Lots of them.

We’ve eaten at the pub before, and while the food’s never been terrible, it’s rarely been outstanding.  What galls me about this jambalaya is that clearly the cook did not have the ingredients and/or the skill to execute even a reasonable version of this dish.  Instead of asking our server to have my husband choose something else, he/she just took a half-baked stab.

And then there was the truly awful delmonico which was beyond excuse on many levels.  The cook must have reached blindly into the fridge, had a terrible blocked nose, and no conscience, all at once.  Why do kitchens do these things?  WHY? 

It’s beyond me, really.  I know on the occasions my workplace cannot accomodate an order, we tell the customer as soon as possible.  Yeah, sure there are the random and rare nutjobs that react angrily, but the operative word is “rare.”   Restaurants, good ones that care, tell customers the simple truth when they can’t fill an order properly.  It’s not rocket science.