condiments

Community (And Pickled Chioggia Beets)

"Anti-social media."


That's what my husband says when you bring up Twitter, Facebook, Google + or anything that incites or requires interaction through a computer or smartphone. He is, at heart, a huge people person. His business requires near constant contact with people - all of which he prefers to do face-to-face or at least on the phone.


His argument is that people think they have friends that they make or maintain friendships through social media, but that it's just superficial. Indeed, he merely tolerates my stories of people I've never actually met. He's not discounting that, once you've met in person, a friendship can grow.


I'll admit, some days I completely agree with him. Then I get a note from someone who reads the blog that is full of more support than a friend I've had for years has given. Or someone I only know from on-line shows up at my door with food, when no one else does on a bad day. Or I am heavily impacted by a tragedy that rocked the world of someone else.




Always remember, there is a real person behind that on-line presence.


That means you can indeed form a relationship with someone you've never met. Will it be as close as the one you have with your best friend since high school? Maybe. Maybe not. But it will still be valuable and important for its own reasons.


On the days that I do see merit in what he says, I take a step forward into my community. Not my on-line world, but the one that is literally outside my door. I take a walk and chat with the neighbour. I grab a beer with another mom from the preschool. I call my brother or sister to just chat about our kids. Nothing can replace a face-to-face conversation.




Because of those conversations I have beet pickles today.


There we were, minding our own business, devouring my husband's hamburgers in the backyard. Our front door was wide open, the dog was probably sound asleep, and the kids were already performing after dinner hula hoop tricks. Suddenly the back door opens and one of our neighbours walks through. In her hands was a grocery bag full of chioggia beets and a big bowl of apricots.


With family in warmer climates and friends coming through she was left with a pile of produce from her folks' backyard. Too much for her and her husband, she brought them over to share. And she knows I would happily accept because we've actually talked before. We live on a street where most of us make an effort to know each other. So she knew I would tackle the colourful produce with gusto and none would go to waste. (There is an apricot crisp in the oven for another neighbour who just had a baby.)




This is my community. Embrace the friends you have when they need it, whether with a quiet note or the full force of your arms. Embrace the shared journeys. Embrace the beets they bring to your backyard.


This was my first time making beet pickles. Inspired by the Pickling Party, hosted by Shauna Ahern from Gluten-Free Girl, and my neighbour. The recipe is a mish mash of ideas from memory, Aimee from Simple Bites, and the Harrow Fair Cookbook. Even my cooking is an amalgamation of my many communities!




Pickled Chioggia Beets
Makes 3 500 ml jars


2 1/2 pounds scrubbed beets, tops and stems removed
2 cups white vinegar
1 cup rice wine vinegar
3/4 cup water
1/2 cup sugar
2 tbsp pickling salt
1 tsp coriander seeds
1 tsp mustard seeds
3 cloves garlic
rosemary (optional)


1. Boil the beets in a large pot of water for 25 minutes. Make sure a fork will go through the largest beets easily. Drain and immediately place in a sink or bowlful of cold water. Once cooled use your hands and, if necessary, a knife, to trim the skin from the beets. Slice and set aside in a clean bowl.
2. While the beets are cooking clean and process 3 jars and the screw lids in a boiling water canner for 10 minutes. Keep hot in the water while you clean and slice the cooked beets.
3. While you prep the beets combine the vinegars, water, sugar, salt, and seeds in a medium saucepan. Bring to a boil and keep hot, hot until ready to use.
4. Quickly drain your sterilized jars. Keep the water boiling.
5. While they are still hot add a garlic clove to the bottom of each jar, then fill with beets. Stop filling 1/2'' from the top. Carefully pour in the pickling liquid, leaving at least a 1/4'' from the top of the jar of space. Wipe the rim of the jar with a clean cloth and screw on the lid.
6. Process for 20 minutes in a boiling water canner. Do not start timing until the water comes to a boil after you add your jars.


(Why didn't the skeleton cross the road? Because he had no guts!)
(Said skeleton keeping the almost pickles company.)

Asparagus Pico de Gallo


My Mom used to live in Texas. That isn't useful information to anyone, really. It does, however, explain how I came to know of Pico de Gallo. Until I went and spent my last university spring break with her in South Texas I thought that what you scooped up with nacho chips was salsa. In fact, at that point in time nachos were only served in bars, drenched in cheese, olives, and green onions with a side of insipid salsa and sour cream.

Oh how South Texas showed me the way.

First off, nachos are indeed what they serve in the bar. Fried tortillas are what nachos pretend to be. The tortillas that didn't get eaten that morning get cut into triangles and fried for snacks. Pico de Gallo is a bowl of finely chopped and uncooked tomatoes, onions, hot pepper, garlic, and lime. Pico de Gallo is always served with those fried tortillas. Sit on the beach in South Texas where you can order any beer and it will come with fried tortillas and Pico de Gallo. It is about the most perfect bar food, beach or not.

I'm nowhere near a sandy beach and I'm pretty sure any Texan would shoot me for this addition, but here you go: Asparagus Pico de Gallo. I was craving the spice, I had the fried tortillas, and I was staring at a large bunch of asparagus in the fridge. All that was left was the beer. And, of course, the beach.


Asparagus Pico de Gallo
Makes 2 cups

10 stalks asparagus (choose the skinny ones)
2 plum tomatoes
1/4 medium red onion
1 clove garlic
1 jalapeno pepper
1/2 lime
1-2 tbsp chopped cilantro (optional)

1. Steam the asparagus for 1 minute, if you prefer not to eat it raw.
2. Finely chop the asparagus and tomatoes into 1/2 dice or smaller. Keep the tips of the asparagus intact. Finely chop the onion, garlic, and pepper. Toss them all together in a bowl.
3. Juice the lime and add the juice to the vegetables. Add cilantro if you're using. Stir once more and serve.

Taste Adventure - Coconut Jam and Pandan

Every book in our house is read a minimum of 4 times an hour.  Each day it might be a different rotation of books, if I am fortunate enough to sneak in a repertoire, but each book will be read ad infinitum.  Generally this causes intense boredom on the part of us parents, sometimes to the point of irritation.  There is one book, however, that doesn't drive me completely insane to read: Munch by Emma McCann.

In this story of a toast and jam loving monster named Munch fighting off an enormous monster with an enormous appetite the strangest jams are highlighted as favourites of Munch: coconut, broccoli, and banana jam. While I had no interest in broccoli or banana jam, I was always intensely curious about the thought of coconut jam. So my Monster and I googled it one day only to discover what apparently most of South East Asia has already known.  Coconut jam, more generally known as Kaya is a little bit of tropical heaven in a jar.

This morning I managed a quick escape from our self-imposed quarantine (still not sure if the flu is really here or not) for a trip to the Loriz Bakery, a Phillipino bakery and convenience store not to far from our house to pick up pandan.  Also known by the horribly bad name of screw pine leaves, pandan is common on Thai, Malaysian, and Phillipino cuisine.  Honestly, to me it smelled like a type of grass.  Tasted bland too.  But combined with coconut it tasted And smelled like our house was transported into somewhere far more tropical than Calgary for an hour. Remind me to get Thai of dinner tomorrow.

I blitzed my screw pine leaves with a bit of water and strained the mess.  Then I set to carmelizing sugar, beating eggs, and cooking it all together with some thick coconut milk.  It turns out coconut jam is more like a custard.  But damn, it is good.

Sadly, The Monster refused to try it and Smilosaurus did not like it at all.  I am blaming it all on the sickness and not on the odd colour that this ends up.  Putting green goop on your toast is not appetizing to the eyes, but to the nose and tongue it was fantastic!  Seriously, it was so good. And one of the best things is that I have A LOT more pandan leaves in the freezer and you can always get coconut milk. Even though the recipe only makes about 3 jars of jam you can make it at any time of the year.

In my research I discovered recipes with or without the pandan  I decided to go for the pandan to make it a bit more authentic.  A lot of the recipes had up to 10 eggs too.  It seemed like it would be a bit too eggy so I found another recipe and adapted it because my can of coconut milk was bigger than the one in the original. It worked for me, it definitely worked for me.

Coconut Jam
Adapted from Almost Bourdain
(makes 3 250 ml jars)

5 pandan leaves
250 grams sugar
1 can coconut milk (not light) or cream
5 eggs, beaten well

1. Blitz the pandan leaves with 1/4 cup of water.  Push the liquid through a sieve and measure 50 ml.
2. Melt sugar and pandan juice in a heavy bottomed pan on medium heat until carmelized.  it will be green, so don't let it go much more than a couple of minutes once the sugar is melted.
3. Remove from heat, stir in the coconut milk and eggs.
4. Return to heat and cook, stirring frequently, until mixture is thickened and cooked, approximately 20-25 minutes.
5. Place in sterilized jars and seal.  Alternatively, let cool and serve that day. (I did not process my jars, but they did seal.)


Make sure to visit Under the High Chair for her virtual jam swap, there are going to be some fantastic submissions!

Another Condiment Obsession

I’ve had a mild obsession with tomatoe marmalade since out weekend in the Okanagan.  After our trip to the market the clouds broke and we ventured to the aptly named community of Summerland.  There we drove up the mountain to the colourful Valentine Farm.  Our hosts, Kim Stansfield and John Gordon, met us in the yard of their compact property, next to their fantastic home and guest house. 
After introductions we gathered our lunch from the generous garden of Kim and John, under the watchful eye of an odd looking llama, a couple of horses, and a friendly guard dog names Asta.  We picked a half dozen types of greens, beets, radish pods, corn, flowers, and lots of tomatoes (minus the ones Hubby scarfed while picking).  
 
Kim and John are more than mere gardeners.  They are grape growers too.  But unlike every other wine maker or grape grower in the region who fears their wine spoiling), Kim and John intentionally infect their wine with acetic acid to turn it into a pungent and flavourful vinegar John showed us their small production facility (a very nice looking and obsessively clean garage) then set to finishing our lunch in the outdoor, wood-fired oven.

Our gathered items made their way into the most diverse salad I've ever had, dressed, of course, with Vinegar Works organic vinegar. We were also served a large platter of sliced heirloom tomatoes reminiscent of a sunrise.  Smaller tomatoes made their way on to the wood fired pizzas.

Oh, the pizzas.  The most tender yet crispy and somehow bulbous crust (yes, all at the same time) covered with tomatoes, sometimes chard, feta, and my newfound obsession: tomatoe marmalade. Can I just say I will never made a pizza without tomatoe marmalade ever again?  I would love to say that I will only ever eat pizza from a wood-fired backyard oven, but I don't live in Summerland or here to make that happen. But so long as I can hit 450 degrees F on m home oven I will be using this as my sauce.

So when my mother-in-law showed up with 20 pounds of Romas last week I set to work. The girls helped as much as it held their interest.  For Smilosaurus this meant transferring tomatoes from the box to the sink for washing, sampling along the way. She also had a special job of stealing the cloth for cleaning the jars. For The Monster helping meant transferring blanched tomatoes to the ice water, stirring the marmalade as it cooked, and helping label the finished jars. See, you can can with kids underfoot. Okay, it helps if your mother-in-law is around for bike rides and swing pushes when it gets a little boring for the little ones.

This marmalade sweet and just a little bit spicy.  It sets about as much as a runny jam.  I'm saving mine for pizza, but The Monster has already claimed some for dipping fresh bread.  It isn't Kim Stansfield's recipe, but I think it is nearly as good.  Then again, I'm not sure I could ever recreate that lunch and the taste of sunshine in every bite of our meal.


Tomatoe Marmalade
(makes 7-9 250 mL jars)

12 cups peeled, chopped tomatoes (drained of liquid)
9 cups sugar
1 orange, thinly sliced
1 lemon, thinly sliced
1 tablespoon whole cloves
6 cinnamon sticks
1 teaspoon fennel seeds
1 tablespoon coriander seeds
2 green cardamon pods

1. Mix the tomatoes and sugar together in a large pot. Place the remaining ingredients in a bag made from cheesecloth.  Put the cheesecloth bag and tomatoes together in a large pot and set on the stove.
2.  Bring to a strong simmer and cook for 45-60 minutes, until mixture thickens and the juices are syrupy.  Test for gel by placing a plate in the freezer.  When the plate is cold place a spoonful of the marmalade on the the plate and replace the plate in the freezer.  After a few minutes, run your fingernail through the marmalade.  If it doesn't immediately fill the space left by your finger it is ready.  If the liquid runs back on itself cook the marmalade for another few minutes.  Test again.
3.  Meanwhile, wash and sterilize your jars, lids, and screw tops in boiling water. Keep the jars hot until ready to use.
4.  When the marmalade is ready fill the jars to 1/2 inch from the top.  Wipe the rims clean with a hot, clean cloth.  Top with the lids and screw tops.
5.  Process in a boiling water bath for 10 minutes (start timing once the water has returned to the boil after adding the filled jars). Freeze or immediately use any jars that don't seal.


A Perfect First Date

Do you remember when you were 16 and you finally got that guy you loved FOREVER to notice you and suddenly you were agreeing to go to the movies, without either of your parents driving you?  The excitement, the knots in your stomach, the agony over what exactly to wear?  And then a zit that appeared on your face the night before.

Or what about the first time your mother-in-law came over for dinner?  The fretting over the right menu, timing your dishes so that nothing was cold, and obsessing over whether the house was just clean enough? And then the dog upturns a plant and you have dirt everywhere.

Now, imagine that you've invited over two major foodies and fantastic writers. Oh yeah, and they're bloggers too and you know that they're going to write about and photograph what you made for dinner. Nope, no pressure there.Friday night we hosted Julie and her gang from Dinner with from Dinner with Julie and Aimée and her family from Under the High Chair. Seriously, no pressure whatsoever.

The Menu:
Watermelon and Jicama Sticks with Chili Salt
Hubby' Famous Arkison Burgers
Buffalo Hot Dogs
Grilled Peaches with Sour Cream Ice Cream
Cherry Hand Pies

It seemed like a pretty stress free menu. Or so I thought.

Since Julie did such a good job of summarizing our evening together - although she forgot the part where Danny, Aimée's husband took out Willem, Julie and Mike's son - I thought I would highlight the prep.  The nerve-wracking everything going wrong prep for when two major foodie bloggers stop by for Friday night dinner.

Let's start with dessert, because that's what I worked on first.  I lucked into some sour cherries at the market last week, so pie was definitely called for.  The Monster and I tucked into pitting the cherries while Smilosaurus had her last official morning nap. Sour cherries are ridiculously easy to pit, no tool required.  We just put our thumbs on either side of the pit and pulled the cherry apart.  Well, that's what I did.  The Monster apparently would start by biting off half the cherry, then picking out the pit.  And, ever helpful, she would put both halves of the cherry in the bowl.  So, in case I forgot to mention it on Friday night, the cherry pie had a little something extra in it.

Then there was the ice cream.  Sour Cream Ice Cream. I was brave and the three of us girls went off to get our groceries.  Sour cream? Check.  Half and half? Check. Heavy cream? Check. Frozen ice cream canister? Check. Blender? Check?

Coordination and space in the fridge?  Uh, no. I dropped the blender on the floor as I was trying to fit it in between a case of beers and some herbs.  It went everywhere! In fact, looking at that picture I realize that I still need to clean the sideboard.

The dogs had a field day cleaning the floor and The Monster cried for a half hour straight. Nothing but tears, nay, wailing, over spilled ice cream.  Thankfully Hubby came home in the middle of her crying so I could run out and buy more sour cream while she cried herself to sleep.
I also ran out to the market while the girls slept to pick up the corn, avocado, lettuce, beef, and the rest of our groceries for the week.  While unpacking I realized that of everything I picked up I forgot to buy peaches.  So, no grilled peaches for dessert. Sigh.

Instead I set to making the pies and getting everything else ready.  I had my pate brisee cold in the fridge. It rolled out wonderfully and I made my pies.  Then I went outside to get the yard a little bit in order.  And promptly forgot about the first tray of pies. I saved them from complete destruction.  And Julie even said she loved the idea of the juices oozing out of their pastry hold. I still scolded her for taking a picture of it. We just picked the really crispy bits off the edges.

Finally, and this was by no means a disaster, I ran out of ketchup. No ketchup is not cause for alarm, but I am firmly in the camp that burgers need ketchup. I was also anticipating toddler meltdown if their was no ketchup for the hot dogs. Just as I prepared to call my neighbour who is stocked for the war (I call her my emergency pantry) I remembered a bottle of homemade ketchup in the cold storage. And the reviews were so positive - except from my kid - that I might consider the effort again.

All was not horrible.  Indeed, some things went ridiculously well.  I made the chili salt for the watermelon and jicama sticks with my secret stash of dried chili from Baja.  I simple threw a handful of chili in a non-reactive frying pan with a clove of garlic.  Let it heat up until I could really smell the chili heat.  Then I blitzed the whole thing in a food processor with a little less than a cup of kosher salt. I think we all preferred it with the watermelon, and I'm pretty sure it would be good on mango too. Hubby and I thought that maybe the leftover salt would be good on some grilled chicken, but not too much.

Then there were the burgers.  Oh, the burgers.  These are the spec-i-al-ity of my Hubby, Morgan. I once made the mistake of raving over a burger in a seaside shack in Digby, Nova Scotia as the best burger I ever had.  I swear that if I hadn't recanted the statement right then and there we never would have married.

There's nothing special to the burgers.  Just good quality ground beef, lean ground beef.  Don't try to be healthy and by extra lean, your burgers will be dry. Lately we've been making them from Hoven Farms beef.  Very flavourful.  So take your beef and form it into a patty, preferably a large patty. Do not season the beef, don't add eggs or bread crumbs.  This is pure beef. Now you know why I only served a green salad on the side.

After a liberal dosing in CattleBoyz BBQ Sauce he cooks them slowly on the grill.  They stay juicy, they get a great crust, and they are perfection. Meaty, so juicy they drip off your wrists perfection.

So the floor was still sticky, the lawn never got mowed, and I highly doubt I made The Monster's bed after her nap.  Oh, and I did indeed have a brand new zit to greet our guests. None of that really matters if everyone is well fed and the company good.

The night was really as good as it gets when you've got 6 tired adults (long drives, gout, sleepless nights, and working too much) and 5 kids under the age of 4 to keep track of.  Note to self: build gates for the fence. We photographed our food more than our kids, we chatted and gossiped about other sites we visit, compared horrible neighbours, and we lubricated everything with Prosecco, Moscato, and beer.  It would have been lovely to sit leisurely around the firepit and actually have some girl talk among us bloggers, but sadly the Hubby's wanted our help with the kids. I think Julie and I might have to plan a weekend in Montreal, sans kids, to get that!

Make sure you check our Julie's review of the evening (including the recipe for the sour cream ice cream, and keep an eye on Under the High Chair for all of Aimée's vacation reports. And stay tuned here this week, I will actually share with you the recipe for Cherry Hand Pies.

More Chocolate

I have officially reached a point where there can be chocolate in the house and I am not constantly thinking about devouring it.  Shocking, especially to me.  That's what a week of hard core chocolate eating does to you.

On the weekend I co-hosted a baby shaker for one of my new nephews.  It wasn't about cutesy games or pastel-coordinated favours.  It was about friends and family getting together to officially celebrate the arrival of the latest member of Team A.  Rather than resort to hummus and spinach dip we decided on a chocolate theme for the food.  Who doesn't love a party with lots of chocolate?

We had cookies, chocolate covered cream puffs, a large platter of fresh fruit to make us feel somewhat virtuous, and some memorable tasty treats.  This was my chance to try a chocolate blackout cake.  I need special occasions to bake cakes and this was one I was dying to try.  It was a hit at the party, with not even one extra crumb leftover.   Surprisingly I was rather disappointed myself.  Moist cake covered in chocolate pudding covered in cake crumbs - it should have been spectacular.  It was sweet, creamy, and almost fudgy, but it didn't knock my socks off.  I was, however, in the minority with this opinion.

Another hit with The Monster was the chocolate tasting bar.  I chunked up some dark and milk chocolate from Bernard Callebaut, Choklat, and Kerstin's Chocolate for a side by side tasting. There was nothing official or even blind about it.  It was striking to taste the differences.

Bernard Callebaut was smooth and tasted exactly like you would expect the chocolate to taste. Choklat's contribution was also smooth, but distinctively fruity.  I went with their Brazillian 48% Milk and Ocumare 70 % Dark.  They really are unlike anything you've tried - sweet but far from cloying, smooth but not terribly creamy, and fruity without tasting juicy.  Finally, we had two offerings from Kerstin's Chocolate in Edmonton, the Venezuela Dark Milk Chocolate and the Ecuador 72 % Extra Dark.  It is impossible to say what was the crowd favourite, but their was none of the Choklat Milk left.  Of course, that may have been due to the proximity to the edge of the kitchen island and The Monster's sneaky fingers.

Truly, though, my favourite thing about the food was this chili chocolate sauce.  I didn't even make it, my talented mother-in-law did.  When the other co-host and I decided on the chocolate thing we tasked my mother-in-law (and grandma of the star of the show) with bringing something savoury.  We knew she would be up for the challenge, and boy did she step up!  

At the party she served the sauce with some chicken skewers.  On Monday I spooned some warm sauce over grilled pork chops.  And then I cooked some black beans and made a dip by pureeing the sauce and the beans together.  It needed a touch more chopped cilantro at that point, but it was still fragrant and yummy on some rye bread at Julie's house the other day.

Chili Chocolate Sauce
(Adapted from this recipe)

1 tablespoon kosher salt
1/8 teaspoon freshly cracked black pepper
1 tablespoon granulated garlic powder
1/8 teaspoon dried oregano
1/8 teaspoon dried basil
1/8 teaspoon dried thyme
pinch crushed red pepper flakes
1 poblano chili - grilled, peeled, seeded, and diced
1/2 onion, diced
2 ounces red wine
1/4 cup chopped milk chocolate
2 tablespoons chili powder
3 medium tomatoes, chopped
2 tablespoons chopped fresh cilantro

1. Combine the salt through red pepper flakes into a seasoning mix.
2. Over medium-high heat saute the poblano, onions, and a pinch of the seasoning mix.
3. Add the red wine and chocolate and stir until combined.  Add the chili powder and remaining seasoning mix.  Stir until thickened.  Add the chopped tomatoes and stir.  Continue to cook for another 5 minutes.
4. Remove from heat, puree, and stir in cilantro. 

PS  Who am I kidding? I'm digging out some of the leftover chocolate right now.

Simple Things

I'm a little behind this week.  In so many ways I am behind, but no one needs to be reminded of my laziness.  Okay, maybe I need to be reminded of it.

Week four of the The Kitchn Cure ended over the weekend.  I was taking advantage of my mother-in-law's house and babysitting to get a break from the mess and exhaustion of having Hubby away.  The girls and I visited family, celebrated birthdays, and even threw a baby shaker for one of our recently arrived nephews.  And halfway through Hubby returned home, then drove another three hours to spend what was left of the weekend with us.  Needless to say, there wasn't a lot of Cure activities going on.

The focus for this week was learning something new and maybe prettying things up a little. Honestly, I had little motivation for new challenges after a week of single parenting.  So rather than try something new I went back to a kitchen staple that I've been ignoring - vinaigrette.  

In my university days I actually used to just put vinegar on my salads.  It must be the Ukrainian in me, but I preferred the tang and tartness of just vinegar.  I did eventually evolve when I discovered good olive oil, and decided not to ration it as an extravagant expense.  In recent years, however, Hubby has reverted back to his favourite Golden Italian and me to Annie's Goddess Dressing.  The real impetus is that I hate dressing a salad only to have leftovers.  You can't have leftover dressed salad, that's nasty and slimy.

Bring back the vinaigrette, I say!  So simple, and actually cheaper than bottled dressing.  Added bonuses include the variety of flavours and controlling the salt and sugar content.  Buy a pretty bottle and leave it on the counter with your oils  (unless you use fresh lemon juice).  Reach for it as those salad greens start poking out of the ground this summer, on grilled veggies, to marinate chicken, or drizzled over strawberries with some black pepper.

There are an infinite number of recipes for vinaigrette.  I've never followed one.  It is really a matter of oil, vinegar, an emulsifier, and seasonings.  The ratio of oil to vinegar that I like is 2/3 oil, 1/3 vinegar.  Traditionally you often see 3/4 and 1/4, but I find that lacking in tartness. Emulsifiers of choice are often mustard or even maple syrup (or both!).  Just a teaspoon or so will work, more if you want a stronger flavour.  And aside from S &P you can add garlic, fresh or dried herbs, a little bit of honey, some fresh fruit puree, or roasted peppers, to name a few. If you are like me - a condiment slut - you have a ridiculous variety of oils and vinegars.  The flavour combinations are endless.  Try balsamic vinegar with maple syrup.  Raspberry vinegar with walnut oil and chopped walnuts.  Garlic, mint, and oregano with red wine vinegar.  Sesame oil and rice wine vinegar with fresh ginger and lime.

And may I add that this was the first time The Monster ate salad dressing on her salad. Seriously, she is a food snob. No bottled dressings, KD, or margarine for her.

Was It Really Worth It?

Some things are just more trouble than they're worth. I now put homemade ketchup in that category, along with transplanting houseplants you already hate, arguing with a toddler over green socks versus white ones, and trying to keep the dog hair off the new couch. Is it better than your bottle of Heinz? Hell yeah, but it still isn't worth the expense or the effort.

I blame you, Jamie Oliver. You and your ridiculous enthusiasm for gardening, food, and making sure people eat well. I blame you, Safeway, for having Jamie at Home on sale in the book bin. I blame you, Calgary weather, for making sure I had loads of tomatoes ripening in stages on my kitchen counter in September and defeating my efforts to make a large batch of tomatoe sauce. I even blame the Monster - just a tiny bit - for having the common desire of any toddler to dip everything in ketchup. In that case, I blame you, Hubby, for fueling that desire in her by never growing up yourself.

Ultimately, however, I have to blame Michael Pollan. He and the Slow Food folks are encouraging me to reduce the amount of processed foods coming into the house. We go through a lot of ketchup and I thought I was being a good mom/wife by introducing another homemade staple.

The recipe* itself was time-consuming, but not difficult. The toughest part was reading through the Jamie Oliver style of recipe writing. And there were a ridiculous number of ingredients! Who knew?

So I spent an afternoon chopping, simmering, reducing, and pureeing. The house smelled wonderful. Two pounds of tomatoes and I got little more than 1 bottle of ketchup. Then the Monster decided that she liked mustard better. Seriously, every time I tried to serve it to her she cried for mustard instead.


Now the ketchup sits in the fridge. This is good stuff. I can't wait to try it on Hubby's famous hamburgers. For now, and post root canal, I will savour it on some scrambly eggs. But next time I'm just making tomatoe sauce.

*Let me know if you want the recipe and don't have the book. I followed it exactly so I won't repeat it here.

Mine! Mine! Mine!

There is that moment in time that every parent dreads in the development of their toddler - the Mine! stage. When the fork you are using, when the book you are reading, when the toy the other little girl is playing with, or when the quilt on the bed is always "Mine!" to your kid. It's exhausting to chase them arround attempting to extol the virtues of sharing or explaining that other people need those things to eat, mow their lawn, or move. It's infuriating when they can't grasp it, even though we should know better and realize an 18 month old doesn't necessarily know any better themself. So we follow behind them, chastising them as much as we can and apologizing profusely to the man whose cane she tried to steal or the little boy whose cookie she took.

I will not, however, apologize for my upcoming bit of selfishness. You see, I am painfully addicted to my cherry jam. Rather, to cherry jam with ricotta on toast. I could eat this every day, two or three times a day. The only thing that stops me from doing this is supply.

Sure, you can get cherry jam in the store. Most of it is imported from Europe and is quite chunky and thick. I find it all rather cloying, but it will work in a pinch. This summer I was inspired and decided to make my own. So far I've made three batches and I still worry whether there will be enough to get me to the next cherry season.

Making the jam, while time-consuming - was actually quite easy. I even decided to try it without using the pre-made pectin. I thought I was rather brave, having used Certo my entire life. With a little bit of searching I came across a post by the ice cream guru David Lebovitz. It was all coming together.

Following his basic directions I pitted all my cherries (with my paring knife), cooked them down a little, measured, then added sugar and boiled away. Then I put them in my specially bought jars. (Smart me bought new jars of a different shape for all my cherry jam. That way there can be no mistake between the cherry I love and the strawberry for the Monster and raspberry for Hubby.) A half hour later I realized that the jam was not going to set. So I emptied the jars back into the La Creuset, quartered an apple for some added pectin, and boiled again. Success this time. So I tried again with cherries and peaches. Yesterday I decided that I didn't have enough in the pantry and made another batch of plain cherry.

Instead of rationing my supply, I will enjoy it all. The Monster and Hubby will not. They are not allowed to touch my cherry jam. And yes, I will have a temper tantrum if I see their fingers or spoons even in the vicinity of my cherry jam. Maybe the Monster will shake her finger at me and tell me to share, and maybe I will. Likely I won't. It is all mine, mine mine.

Taste Adventure - Capers and Artichokes

I have to make a confession. As much as I'd like to think I am a foodie, there are still a lot of foods I've never cooked for myself: Foie gras, creme brulee, gnochhi, and artichokes. When I saw the artichokes sitting amongst the organic imports at the market on Sunday I decided to do my own taste adventure. Sure, I've eaten my share of jarred artichoke hearts on pizza and pasta but I've never taken on the home cooking challenge of a fresh artichoke.

Artichokes are not at the peak of their season, and I knew that going in. But if I'd seen these California beauties in May I'm sure I would have had the courage then. I was already in line, keeping an eye on the Monster while Hubby bounced E in the Bjorn. I called to him across the stall, "Grab me a couple of those artichokes."
"A couple of the whosawhatzits?"
"The artichokes."
"What do they look like?" he asked
It seems Hubby should also be considered a backseat gourmet. After a verbal map ("To the left of the peppers") he grabbed a couple, we paid and we were on our way.

After a few days delay due to birthday parties and swing set erecting I got down to tackling the artichokes. Unfortunately, none of the recipes in my cookbook collection appealed to me. That meant stealing the laptop from the Monster to do some research. This is not a good idea when you are trying to make dinner because You Tube is the best invention ever. Daddy searches for videos of baby belugas, dolphins, and killer whales while I start dinner. That lasts until Mama starts chopping and she has to help. And help she did.

I found a recipe for grilled artichokes with a mint caper vinaigrette. Sounded yummy to me. As a plus, the barbeque was already on for the bison flank steak we were also having. I squeezed my lemon, chopped my garlic, picked my mint, and found the capers in the fridge. I pulled a couple of the capers out to start chopping.

"Beans!" The Monster exclaimed. I tried to explain to her that they weren't beans, but she insisted they were. Okay then, try one. Who would expect that these 'beans' would prove so tasty to a 2 year old? If only her fingers were long enough to reach into the jar.

Back to dinner. I trimmed the artichokes, set them to cook in lemon water, and hoped I was doing it right. When the steak went on the grill I also put on the artichokes. Meanwhile I boiled some potatoes and tossed them with cream and fresh dill. When everything was done grilling I tossed some greens with the mint caper vinaigrette and topped the artichokes with the same. At least I knew The Monster would like the vinaigrette.

After savagely working her way through all her steak and a good chunk of Daddy's she decided to try some of her artichoke. Before that it sat forelornly on her plate, a pale green chunk with a few pieces of garlic clinging to it. It was a good thing I still had some of mine left because she wanted more, and more.

Lessons learned - salty foods in brine should all be assumed as good; you need to either trim more off the artichoke before cooking or cook it longer so as not to waste as many leaves or buy it closer to the peak season; and buy more artichokes next time.

Mint Caper Vinaigrette

1 lemon, juiced

1 garlic clove, finely chopped

3-4 leaves mint, finely chopped

1 tsp chopped capers

1/2 cup olive oil

Get your toddler to shake together all ingredients in a sealed jar. Stand close in case she decides she is done with her task mid-shake. Season to taste.

Sources:

California Artichoke Advisory Board

Grilled Baby Artichokes with Caper-Mint Sauce