Seven Tips for Dining Out as a Family

The first meal out for our family after having a baby was sushi. Our newborn slept in her car seat and I gorged on the fish that had been banned from my diet during pregnancy. It was bliss for everyone. Our last venture to that same sushi bar (last month) was a bit more raucous, with the girls not so quiet now. But they sat at the bar, ordered their favourite sashimi, and flirted with the host who gave them candy.

We can't imagine our lives without the opportunity to take the kids out for dinner. If we didn't take them we might not go ourselves with limited babysitting in town! But if you want to take your kids to a restaurant, whether it involves a giant golden M or serves fois gras, there are some basic guidelines. These are guidelines for parents, not rules for kids.

1. Start at Home

If you want your kid to sit at the table, eat, and not run around and scream at a restaurant table then you need to expect that behaviour at home as well. I know many a parent who struggles to keep their kids at the table, regardless of where they are sitting. While I can't provide any tips for getting them to stay in their seat - other than expecting the behaviour and enforcing it - if your kid can't sit at the table for 20 minutes then a sit down restaurant isn't going to be a successful venture for you.

2. Revise Your Dinner Expectations

When you take your kids out to dinner with you then your experience will not be that same as dinner out with your partner. There is no lingering over dessert, conversations are not usually about politics or money, and you will likely eat pretty fast. Dinner out with the family isn't romantic, but it can be fun. Keep your expectations in check, as well as your timing.

3. It's all in the Timing

Knowing when your kids need to eat and when they'll crash is important if you choose to eat out. Don't arrive at the restaurant at 6 if they are used to dinner on the table at that time. Be prepared to order an appetizer or the entire meal when they come by to take a drink order. And ask for the check right after your meal is served in case you need to make a speedy exit.

4. Choose Wisely

There is no need to limit your family meals out to fast food or even chain restaurants. Steakhouses, greasy spoons, and yes, fine dining are all acceptable. Do not take your kids to the best place in town if all they've ever eat are chicken fingers, you need to work up to that. Consider going to a nicer restaurant on a weekday, not on typical date nights on the weekend. Preview menus on-line or with a drive by to ensure there is something your kids will likely enjoy. Try brunch instead of dinner, it's faster, more likely to have preferred options, and is a more casual environment - even in a fancier restaurant.

5. The Art of Conversation

I'm not a fan of bringing toys and such to the restaurant, but I can see the benefit for other families. A run of the mill restaurant will sometimes provide the menu that can be coloured, or you could bring your own colouring book. Books, a small doll, a random car, or even an electronic device might also be effective in occupying your kids while you wait for food. It should go away when the food arrives though. We take the time in a restaurant to have a conversation - as effective as that is with a 3 and 5 year old. I also don't want to set the precedent that toys are commonplace when you go out for dinner. Each family will have to decide what is appropriate.

6. Lose the Kids Menu

Even the fanciest of restaurants sometimes have a kids menu. Ignore it. It may be fine dining, but they are often dumbing down the food in addition to smaller portion sizes. Instead, look to the appetizer or soup/salad portion of the menu. Alternatively, you can order one main course and split it among two or three children. Do not relegate your kids to a diet of chicken fingers or grilled cheese sandwiches. Or at least, save those for the nights you stay home when you don't feel like cooking.

7. Be Prepared to Leave

Yup, be prepared to get up and walk out without dinner. If your kids are misbehaving, whining, or generally being bad or disruptive, be prepared to leave without eating. Aside from showing restauranteurs and other patrons that you have control over the situation, you are also showing your kids that certain behaviour is not tolerated. Whether you let them eat dinner at home after that is another matter. (I would not, but that's me.) If you want your restaurant experience to be successful and repeated, then you need to set the precedent.

On the recent debate on Q, with Jian Gomeshi, Emma Waverman, and Simon Majumdar, the host and guests talked about a ban on kids in restaurants. While I squarely believe in the comments made by Waverman, it was this quote from Majumdar that sums it up. Restaurants want to ban kids, primarily because of crying and bad behaviour, and that "Boils down to wretched parenting."

If you want to take your kids out of the house - and we all need to at times - then you need to step up to the plate, plan ahead, and be clear on your behavioural expectations with them. A restaurant isn't always a break at dinnertime, don't treat it that way unless the kids are at home with the babysitter. Dinner out with the family is an opportunity for exploration, conversation, and treats.

Nutella is Evil

Don't let that fake mom on the commercial fool you - Nutella is evil.

I don't care if you tell me there is a cup of skim milk in an entire jar. Turns out I'm not spreading an entire jar on toast. In reality I'm eating it by the spoonful and keeping the children from even knowing Nutella exists.

Let me make it clear that I've got nothing against treats for my kids. We bake at least once a week, they love their honey sticks, and sugar is not a bad word in this house. But Nutella is like crack. Highly addictive and good for giving you a rush. That rush does not belong on toast - that sounds disgusting - because no kid needs to get used to the idea of a chocolate filling for breakfast.

We are considered strict parents among our family and friends. I've got no problem saying no when my kids ask for something repeatedly. But if they knew Nutella existed a whole new world of begging would emerge. Seeing as I don't have the will power to keep a teaspoon out of the jar then I expect a distinct challenge in the same for my children. They also know how to climb on the counters. Keeping Nutella in the house is simply too dangerous.

Then again, I might ask my husband to hide a jar just so I can make these brownies periodically. Rich and fudgy and the recipe makes the perfect amount to satisfy the craving without leaving you with a pound of baking laying around.

That Abby Dodge is a genius when it comes to the easy dessert. She gave me the permission to share this recipe to you. You may have seen it a million times over already since Desserts 4 Today came out. Maybe not. Either way, you should dig out your own jar of Nutella and scrape out what you've managed to leave behind after your midnight snack.

Nutella Brownies

Makes 12 mini brownies

1/2 cup Nutella

1 egg

5 tbsp flour

1/2 cup chopped hazelnuts

1. Heat the oven to 350 degrees F. Line a mini muffin tin with 12 papers or liners. (Or spray with non-stick spray.)

2. Whisk the Nutella and egg together in a medium bowl. Whisk in the flour until smooth.

3. Spoon the batter into the prepared muffin tins. Top with chopped nuts.

4. Bake for 11-12 minutes. Remove from oven and set on a rack to cool completely.

Love = Chocolate Chip Cookies

For the record, a chocolate chip cookie is not just a chocolate chip cookie. Put aside the preferences for chewy or chunky, nuts or pure, cocoa or not. A chocolate chip cookie at its most basic is pretty much love.

Growing up they are the special treat doled out by Mom, whether she made them or not. Our first forays into adulthood are filled with Mom's replacements where we can get them on the occasion of loneliness, break-ups, girls' nights, and stress. When we get our own kitchen we bake them for our boyfriends and girlfriends and friends to give them comfort and happiness and a morsel of love wrapped in chocolate in butter. Then we have kids and we start the cycle all over, baking together and for them to pass on the love.

No one ever answers cinnamon pinwheel when asked what kind of cookies we should bake.

When the controversy over this post, by a pastry chef no less, blew up on my Twitter Feed all I could think about was chocolate chip cookies. It seems other felt the same way too. Check out this post from Abby Dodge, one from Gail at One Tough Cookie, and another one from Jennifer Perillo.

For days all I thought about were chocolate chip cookies. But Mama's had a bit too much love lately, if you know what I mean. Then Jennie responded and I couldn't not make cookies. And if you're going to to do it, then do it with this recipe and do it a few times.

I've been meaning to test out this concept of letting cookie dough rest since the original New York Times piece came out. Frankly though, there is never a world where I can make cookie dough and not bake it right away. Mama needs her love, as do little girls who helped make the cookies and fully expect one RIGHT NOW.

So, I planned a little experiment. One night, after the girls were asleep, I made the cookie dough, using this recipe from Jennifer Perillo. By far it is the best recipe I've ever made and she's happily letting me share it here.

All but two chunks went into the fridge for their little rest. Seriously, who can make dough and not eat a cookie? Waiting is the hardest part of baking chocolate chip cookies. I baked off two chunks for a late night snack.

Those two cookies, however, were not going to be enough to let me know the difference between a fresh dough and one that has rested for 36 hours. But they were tasty! That meant another bowl of dough was made. I used the exact same recipe and made them the exact same way. The only difference is that I had a 2 year old helping me the second time.

While The Monster was at preschool we baked trays and trays of cookies. I was worried about telling them apart, but it turns out that isn't a problem. The rested dough gets more golden in the oven and doesn't spread as much as the fresh dough. Difference #1.

Now I certainly don't need 6 dozen chocolate chip cookies in my house. We took most of the cookies to the playground for an after school treat, and an experiment. I walked around to all the parents and the teacher, asking them to try one of each cookie. I wanted to see if they could taste a difference and if so, which one they preferred. (The kids got some too, but they didn't care at all which bag they came from.)

The first surprise to me was that everyone could tell a difference between the two cookies, by taste alone. It was a subtle difference to me when the cookies were warm, at home. At the park, however, the difference was more pronounced. The fresh dough cookies taste sweeter. Difference #2.

People were trying to guess the difference and the guesses ran from the addition to honey or more sugar to potentially more butter in the freshly baked dough. The people who preferred these ones all thought they tasted more rich.

The people who preferred the rested dough cookies, however, often called them more decadent or gourmet. Personally, I found the difference was the cloying sweetness and that the fresh dough was almost a bit acidic, tasting it at the back of my tongue more than anything. The flavour, overall, of the rested dough is more sophisticated and frankly, mature. Difference #3.

What makes them technically different? Resting allows the liquids in the dough to be better absorbed. This results in a drier, firmer dough that bakes better. Hence, less puddling in the rested dough cookies. And a better texture overall when you bake the cookies to a precise just underbaked. It also encouraged better caramelization of the dough.

The remaining dough in my fridge (from both batches) was baked off the next day, topped with a sprinkling of fleur de sel. By far, my favourite version.

It's winter here now, I'm single parenting again, and I already have dough resting in the fridge for some post school and snow romp love.

Jennifer Perillo's Very Best Chocolate Chip Cookies

Makes 36 3 inch cookes (or 4 dozen slightly smaller ones)*

4 cups flour (18 ounces)

1 tsp baking soda

1 tsp salt

2 sticks butter, softened (8 ounces butter) (1 cup)

2 cups sugar (15 ounces)

2 tbsp molasses

3 large eggs, room temperature

1 1/2 tsp pure vanilla extract

12 ounces bittersweet chocolate discs (or chocolate chips)

In large bowl whisk together the flour, baking soda and salt. Beat butter, sugar and molasses until light and fluffy. Add the eggs and vanilla extract. Beat until well mixed. Add the flour mixture and mix until just combined. Stir in the chocolate discs (chips). Let sit in the refrigerator overnight before baking, and may be stored this way for up to two days. Yes, I realize this is the very hard part.

When ready to bake, preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Line baking sheets with silicon mats or parchment paper. Gently form dough into 1 1/2 to 2 inch (1 to 1 1/2 inch) balls and place 2 to 3 inches apart on prepared baking sheet. Bake for 15 minutes (13 minutes in my oven) on middle rack. Remove from oven and let cool on pan for 2 more minutes. Transfer cookies to a rack to cool completely if you have any will power left.

*The notes in italics are my personal changes due to ingredients on hand, preferences, and my oven.

Season by Season

It's been a rough, rough couple of weeks in the Arkison household. Give us a few more weeks and we should be back on track.

This week, however, as been for snuggles, rest, and comfort. But a family can't live on ice cream alone. Is there any other summer comfort food? The other day I was desperate for a peach, I wanted the juice to drip off my chin and the scent to tickle my nose with summer pleasure. Of course, that might have had something to do with the fact that we were driving through Peachland on our way home from a funeral.

In sharing with a friend she mentioned that the only way to get through times like this is day by day, then season by season. As a food obsessed kind of gal, seasons are a strong marker in our lives. We eat by the seasons, therefore we live by the seasons. And I'm someone who is hard pressed to actually pick a favourite season (although I usually answer winter, when asked.) So as we recover from the latest round of flurries to the solar plexus I sought comfort in summer.

This is my Baba's raspberries and cream. Smilosaurus called it ice cream and The Monster declared she didn't like it. To me it was my Baba's old people smelling hug in a stifling house, arms covered in scratches from the raspberry canes. It was the weeks in the summer we were sent to Saskatchewan, which we hated at the time, but now I cherish. It was family, it was generations, it was summer treats.

Oddly, I used frozen raspberries for this. It was what I had. And, to be honest, it was what we usually used if it wasn't that exact berry season.  Strawberries work equally well. If you are using frozen berries, thaw first and drain off excess juice. Baba usually used regular white sugar, but I like mine with brown for that punch of extra flavour.

Berries and Cream

Equal parts mashed berries and sour cream or farm cream

Sugar to taste.

1. Stir together. Eat. Be comforted.

Taste Adventure - Eggplant

If the kid asks you what an eggplant is and in her prettiest voice ever asks you to buy it - pleeeease? - then you buy it. Then hope like hell she'll actually eat it.

Eggplant isn't something I tend to cook. Although I quite like it, Hubby hates it, so I often don't bother. But when The Monster spied it at the market a few weeks back and asked for it I jumped at the chance. Plus, Hubby was going to be out of town.

Because eggplant is not on the usual dinner repertoire in our house I stood there for a minute trying to decide what else I might need to make dinner. Along came Pierre.  Literally. He appeared and we started talking eggplant. After a few minutes we parted with promises of him sending me his recipe for ratatouille. 

Pierre's recipe is a technique more than anything. When I make ratatouille I tend to chop up all my veggies, toss them with some olive oil, herbs, and a load of fresh tomatoes. Into the oven on high heat. And done. Pierre's technique was to chop up onion, cover them with canned tomatoes in a baking dish, and bake for a 10 minutes. Then top with eggplant and our other veggies. Throw in some rosemary and a secret ingredient or two and let it all bake together. I think the term he used was Blap! it together.

It was fantastic. I loved this method of cooking, I loved the ratatouille - rich, tummy warming, and flavourful. And the girls? Not so much.

The Monster refused to eat anything but the peppers, even after her one bite and reminder that this indeed was the eggplant she asked for. And Smilosaurus took this occasion to string together her first 4 word sentence, "I don't like that!"

Any other eggplant suggestions out there? I'm not willing to give up yet.

Only in My House?

Hubby has a disgusting habit. Okay, he has more than one. Opening beer bottles with his teeth, eating knobs of butter, just butter, and eating dried macaroni by the handful. And much to my chagrin, he's passed on those habits to our youngest child. Not the beer bottle one - yet.

Yes, when we bake she steals bits of butter and I've found her with her finger in the butter dish more than once. Are you cringing just a little at that? I am.

Lately, however, the macaroni habit has become an obsession. All our dry goods are stored in glass jars on open shelves above the stove.  She literally tries to climb up the stove, yelling, "Macaroni please!"

At first I refused, fearing that she would choke. We've been down that road and I was terrified of another ambulance visit. Eventually I relented, letting her have just one. She chomped down, chewed it up, and asked for more. So now she and her Daddy sit with handfuls of dried macaroni, crunching and laughing together over the naughtiness of their habit.

Does anyone else do this? Or is my family just this special? (Sarah, don't answer that)

Upcoming Event - A True Taste Adventure

This one is not for the kids!

I'm happy to announce a new relationship and upcoming event with J. Webb Wine Merchant Ltd. Lee Hansen and I will be joining forces for a scotch and food pairing class. Actually, there will be two opportunities to enjoy the range of tastes from Scotland and the food we are pairing with it. Think sweet, salty, and meaty. Then think of the scotch!

Join us on March 17 or 18 at the Glenmore Landing location. For sign-up information visit the J. Webb site.

Taste Adventure - Pistachios

We went nut-free for such a long time in this house because The Monster was at high risk for allergies. With the risks behind us we've welcomed the gradual return to a nutty life. I still remember the first peanut butter cookies we made together and their crumbly, sweet taste. Now, without thinking about it we're back to adding toasted hazelnuts to roasted veggies, walnut oil in salad dressings, and eating classic out of hands nuts like cashews and pistachios.

A few weeks back we were helping our neighbours plan a kitchen reno.  The girls ran around, chasing the cat, banging on the piano, and scoping out some 1970s toys Poppa and Grandma B have lying around. Then it got eerily quiet. If you've got kids, or even been around them for 20 minutes you know that too quiet usually means trouble.

A quick search found the two girls huddled, not over a beaten cat or something breakable being used in a creative way, but around a container of pistachios. The Monster easily figured out how to get the meat out the shells and a little pile had already appeared. Smilosaurus was frantically begging her sister to shell more and more for her grabby little hands. Happy that nothing was being destroyed we let them be and tried to figure out just how our neighbours could fit an island in their kitchen.

Fast forward a few weeks to me packing snacks for an outing to the zoo. Remembering the girls' love of pistachios I threw some together with a handful of dried cranberries. And when we stopped for a warm-up and treat they promptly picked out all the cranberries and refused to touch the pistachios. Okay, so we need more exposure to establish a pistachio habit, fair enough. Or, so I thought.

The other day Hubby is picking up groceries and upon his return he declares that he bought a treat for the girls. As a mom, I kind of cringed, knowing that they'd already had a fair amount of sweets that day. But it wasn't red licorice or fruit gums that he pulled out, it was a container of pistachios, in their shells. And the sheer excitement of the girls' faces as they gathered around the coffee table superceded even the performance of the aerialists at the Olympics.

So, in the nut adventures in this household, apparently shells rule. 

When Hubby is in Charge of Cooking

My mom just left after a weekend of cooking, giggles, and laundry. She came down to help us after I blew out both my knees skiing last weekend. Hubby still isn't fully healed after his broken collarbone so taking care of the three of us girls is a bit much on top of working as well. So mom came down, fixed us up with some great dinners, and put some soup and pyrohy in the freezer.

But before she came down Hubby spent the week cooking.  One night I walked him through a leftover change-up, we enjoyed some meals from the freezer and from friends, and one night Hubby made wiener wraps. Hot dogs, plastic cheese, and the packaged dough in a can. He was in heaven, the girls loved them, and even I ate two. But I did eat most of the carrot sticks I convinced Hubby to prepare. I can't wait to cook again.

Taste Adventure - Cape Gooseberry

After a very busy morning gluing brown circles to bigger brown circles, building floor puzzles of cats, and dancing to a jazzy version of Spiderman it was time to settle down for snacks. It was our day to volunteer at preschool. As the parent volunteer responsibilities include directing the craft, helping the teacher with all the regular tasks, and cleaning up at the end of the class. Our kid gets to be VIP that day, getting to go first for all activities and bringing something special for show and tell. Oh, and the parent gets the pleasure of bringing a snack.

Now, it should be painfully clear by now that I'm not the apple slice and snack pack kind of mom. I bake cookies and muffins when they ask me to. I don't bring juice for other people's kids. And when it is our turn to bring a snack I think it is a great idea to bring something likely foreign to the average Canadian three year old, like a cape gooseberry. I wonder what the other parents thought when they saw our snack reported on the calendar.

(A total aside, but don't you think having to record you snack is just another form of competitive parenting? Remind me to ask the teacher about that.)

A cape gooseberry isn't a common fruit. I always associate it with hotel fruit trays at meetings. Their distinctive papery coverings serve more as garnish to most of us. But peel that back and taste the sweetly sour fruit with the hint of sunshine. It's kind of like a natural version of sour gummy candy, minus the jelly texture. Personally, I love them. But I wasn't sure about the kids.

I baked cookies as a fall back position.

The cape gooseberries? They went over surprisingly well. In a class of eight kids one outright refused to even have the gooseberry in his bowl, stopping just short of a complete fit over the fact that it even touched his cookies. A couple more sniffed it and merely set it aside. Two more had to be cajoled... er, encouraged to try the fruit. And three happily tried them. One kept asking for more and more, leaving his cookies aside. Way to go kid!

My kid tried hers, declared it too sour, and returned to her cookies.

The kid that loved them?  His dad is a chef.

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!

Eden in the Dust

So we finally get our grass in, our fence up, and have even hosted dinner once or twice. Then the City and Volker Stevin show up. They tore up part of our new front lawn, ripped apart the alley around our entire blocks, and now use our yard as the traffic line between alley and front street. Oh, and did I mention that my yard is surrounded by giant 20 foot deep holes? The noise and dust are constant. Thank goodness the girls can sleep through it. I only wish I could.

For two little kids the continual movement of machinery and big men is rather fascinating. We can watch at the window for hours and whenever we are heading out to the park or the men are taking a break we investigate the most recent digging. Apparently it is quite an ordeal to move a fire hydrant across the street. I can be amused by some new-to-me truck, but that's where my enthusiasm ends.

Then the pastry arrived.

Yesterday we shared some fresh cookies (baked to take the autumn chill off the house in the morning) with the builder men. The Monster was quite disappointed that not all of them were taken. Try explaining Ramadan to a 3 year old. Any and all sadness disappeared when one of the guys let her go in the giant hole today. And all my annoyance with the noise quickly shot out the backdoor when one guy arrived this afternoon bearing a tray of phyllo pastry. He insisted that we take half of it, and then more because some pieces were small.

At first we thought it was a variation on baclava. Phyllo spinkled with pistachios and honey. It seemed like a safe guess. Then we bit into it. The phyllo triangles are actually filled with some sort of mildly sweet, thick custard. It is not the same as the filling in a cannoli, being quite smooth and not tasting of cheese. But it also isn't like a typical pastry cream, being thicker and quite white in colour.

Unfortunately, our delivery guy couldn't tell us what was in it. Any clue out there?

Taste Adventure - Jicama

Behold the simply boring jicama.  Crisp but rather bland, fresh but neutral.

I can't say the first time I had it.  I do remember an extensive search to find the first one.  Once Hubby and I gave up our weekly trips to the bar on Friday nights we often found ourselves, with roommates by our side, watching Iron Chef and the Chris Isaak Show on our crappy oak cabinet TV.  Somewhere in there we might watch Emeril Live and any other random Food Network show because the rest of Friday night TV sucked.  So I have no clue who made jicama look good, but we became obsessed with finding it.

Every grocery store we went into for years afterwards would warrant a trip to the special vegetable section, where they housed the so-called ethnic veggies, in hopes of seeing the vaguely potato-like root.  This was before we shopped around much, relying on the farmers' market and the neighbourhood grocery store only.  Now I not only know I can find it in most grocery stores, but I know more than a few speciality produce stores which carry it.  And I am thankful for that because I love that root.

The Monster loves crisp veggies, especially peppers.  And Smilosaurus handled greek salad well last weekend, so I thought both of them would enjoy jicama.  I was half right.

Jicama is common in Mexican and some Asian cuisines.  It has a simple, crisp flavour and texture - like a watered down apple or crisped up sweet cucumber.  It takes well to spicy or bold flavours like a sesame vinaigrette or chilis.

To prepare jicama you peel the thin papery skin and slice it, dice it, chop it, or julienne.  I've never eaten it cooked, but it is possible.  Truthfully, I like it as a simple raw veggie, alongside my carrot sticks and cherry tomatoes.  But my favourite way to eat jicama is to add it to slaw, maybe with some apples to compliment the simple flavour, or in a mango jicama salad.  

When I served it last night I gave some to the girls as a simple matchstick first.  The Monster happily ate the pile placed in front of her, munching away as I chopped mango.  Smilosaurus was pretty much indifferent.  I don't think she had a problem with the taste, but the texture was still too crunchy for a girl without molars.  When it came to the salad, Smilosaurus picked out the mango and left a pile of jicama on the tray of her high chair.  I was hoping for leftovers, but both The Monster and Hubby ate more than their fair share.  I guess I better hit the grocery store again.

This is an easy salad.  It is easily dressed up and added to.  If I have it, I will add in some chopped fresh cilantro, minced red onions, or diced peppers.  It is also very good with some shredded savoy cabbage, some additional lime, and fresh chilis.

Mango Jicama Salad

1 jicama, peeled and cut into matchsticks

1 ripe mango, finely diced

1 lime, zest and juice

splash of olive oil

generous pinch of chili powder

salt and pepper

Mix all ingredients together, season.  

Taste Adventure - Fiddleheads

You know those moments when you speak out loud and you probably shouldn't?    Yeah, I had one of those on the weekend.  I'm fighting the crowds with the stroller (I am so one of those stroller people) at the Market, buying some groceries for the week when I see these tiny green spirals between shouts at The Monster to stay by me and making sure Smilosaurus is still buckled in.

"Ooh, fiddleheads!"  It was a moment when the world around you goes silent because you were ridiculously loud, even in a noisy crowd of shoppers.  Uh, sorry.

I first discovered fiddleheads when I lived in Halifax for university.  What was this precious green creature my friend's mom served at Easter dinner?  I'd never seen anything like it.  At that point I was still very picky and didn't eat much in the way of vegetables.  And I'd seen these things when hiking out at Crystal Crescent Beach.  They were edible?  Peer pressure did me in and I devoured the butter covered greenery.  Since that time I've only really had them a handful of times - I do live on the Prairies after all and these are not dry climate growers.

Did you know a fiddlehead is a fern that has just emerged from the ground?  Captured by foraging hands they grace our springtime plates like a harbinger of growth to come.  Steamed or sauteed lightly to be crisp tender they are really the taste of spring to me.  Not asparagus or lamb, but fiddleheads.  So when I saw them at the market I had to gasp, exclaim, and then sigh at the real end of winter (even if it really means the end of winter in BC).

The reviews were mixed in this house.  Smilosaurus will pretty much eat anything these days, but she really liked them. On Tuesday she finally put two and two together and signed "more" at dinner.  Last night she reverted back to a death grip on the high chair with a fixated stare on the food of choice and let loose with an intense growl.  Translation?  "More!"  

The Monster is a little out of sorts with Daddy away so she was grumpy and not feeling very adventurous.  Heck, she didn't want her scrambled eggs.  I left them on her plate, forked and ready to go.  A little more grumbling and she decided to eat one.  Although she pronounced that she did not like fiddleheads, she did eat the rest on her plate.

Preparation of fiddleheads is very simple.  Clean them well under running water or swish them around a bowlful of water to remove any brown bits or dirt.  Trim the ends off.  I simply steam them for a couple of minutes, with a sprinkling of salt to retain the colour.  You can toss them with some butter at this point and eat.  But they are also great tossed in a vinaigrette or quickly sauteed with garlic and olive oil.  That is what I did today and finished it off with a some lemon zest.

I wonder how the girls at the market fared?  In my exclamations I convinced them to try the fiddleheads.  Maybe they were just trying to help me recover from my embarrassment?

Taste Adventure - Lulo

This has been a long winter for everyone.  No matter how committed I am to eating local as much as possible I've been caving lately.  I Just. Can't. Eat. Another. Apple.  Not one.  And heck, those aren't even really local to Calgary.  But I've run out of frozen berries and peaches, there are no more saskatoons or rhubarb for baking, and I need the tang and heat that comes with something grown in the sun, relatively recently.

I'll admit to buying imported blueberries and watching out for the California spring fruits that actually look good - I draw the line at strawberries that look white inside.  But my true weakness are the tropical fruit I find at More Than Mangos.  I know, I've mentioned them before.  It goes against the true nature of our local farmers' market to have them on location, but I'm happy he's there.

Last weekend I picked up this pretty, round fruit.  Mostly orange with some deep green it actually reminded me of my childhood bedroom.  I was given free reign to pick my colours when I was about 7 or 8 and I chose peach and dark green.  But the taste of the Lulo was anything but childish.

Tart, but sweet.  Almost like a lime curd, but a lot tangier.  The pulp, scooped out, had the texture of a soft jelly.  In truth, the whole thing reminded me of eating those sour lemon candies - the fruit jellies covered in sugar.  I ate the flesh atop a bowl of my favourite vanilla yoghurt.  It was just what I needed on a not quite spring day.

And the girls?  The Monster gamely took a bit and refused any more.   Smilosaurus would eat it with enough yoghurt on the spoon, but that's it.  It may have reminded me of childhood and candy, but my daughters apparently have different tastes.

Taste Adventure - Deer

The home of my brother- and sister-in-law is situated in country residential East of Edmonton. Their house is set back from a rural road and surrounded by trees.  Moose will bed down on their front lawn and there is a new deer track every morning.  What a perfect location for a family of hunters.

At our last visit we watched a snacking deer as the sun set.  The Monster was actually quite afraid of the deer, hiding behind her uncle as he tried to point out the doe in the trees.  She constantly repeated, "I'm afraid of the deer."  Hmm, maybe it had something to do with the head of a buck on the living room wall?

Regardless, I was a little nervous as to how she would react when I pulled out a gifted deer roast from the freezer.  Would the memory be so strong and she would be afraid to eat?  Would she get upset at eating an animal, albeit a different animal, she just saw?  

The roast was simply labelled "deer roast".  Hmm, I had no idea what cut it was.  That makes a difference in how you cook a roast.  Animals with lots of connective tissue require a slow, low roast to ensure a tender piece of meat.  At the other end of the spectrum, a cut like a tenderloin needs high heat and to be cooked for only a short time.  What to do, what to do? God love the internet.  Most hunting related sites suggested marinating the roast in buttermilk or milk, overnight.  Well, that wasn't an option.  I was making it for dinner that night.  What I did find is that unless it was a tenderloin that most methods included a liquid of sorts.  So I went with an old fashioned pot roast.

Smashed garlic, a rough chopped onion, and a pile of carrots went into the La Creuset beside the well seasoned and browned roast.  I poured in a bottle of beer and stuck it in the oven for an hour at 350 degrees.  In the end, it was a bit long, with the roast cooked all the way through. But oh, was it ever tender.  You could definitely tell it was game and not beef, but it had tremendous, rich flavour.  I served it with some homemade horseradish cream that my dad makes every year.

It turns out I didn't need to be nervous about whether The Monster would like it or not.  Her plate is always put down first.  By the time I turned around and put down plates for Hubby and I she'd already powered through half of what I gave her.  "Good bacon, Mama," she informed me.  And this past weekend she told her uncle that she was no longer afraid of the deer.

The deer roast was also a good introduction to red meat for The Smilosaurus.  Cut in tiny little chunks she ate more than The Monster.  And since that night she's been a meat fiend.  Steak dinner out one night, ribs, even chicken tagine.  Our little carnivore.  And it all started with the deer our family provided.  Now that's local. 

Taste Adventure - Passion Fruit

In the winter at the Calgary Farmer's Market the pickings get slim.  We still go to buy the bulk of our groceries, have brunch and coffee, and let the Monster jump her little heart out in the bouncy castle.  Bypassing the crafts which we don't need but look nice we skip through the stalls to our regular spots.  Recently, however, a new vendor has been tempting me with the exact opposite of locovore eating.

More Than Mangos has taken up a weekend stall for the winter.  The colourful fruits and exotic smells are intoxicating in the grey and tired days of mid winter.  We've been buying avocados, mangos, and baby bananas imported from Central and South America.  I decided to branch out recently and picked up some passion fruit.  The scent of these orange passion fruit - versus the purple and plain ones Andres has - was more than I could resist.

And I would be the only one.

The Monster was more than excited to open the passion fruit in the recommended way - by smashing it.  The natural curiosity of a toddler led her to ask a few questions about what this new thing was.  Smashing it was great fun.  And as soon as she saw what it looked like inside she walked away and refused to have anything more to do with it.  She wouldn't even come close it after that.  

When Hubby came home I tempted him with this new treat.  I'd devoured that juicy pulp from the one the Monster broke, straight up.  We cracked another one and Hubby bravely took a slurp.  Quite promptly he responded that it was "nasty".  It reminded him of guava, which he hates.

Oh well, more for me.  It kiboshed my plans to make a passion fruit pavlova for dessert.  And so it sat.  The Monster ate a Cara Cara orange instead.  And I finally finished the passion fruit as a topping on some yoghurt.  A tropical, but somewhat disappointing end to that slurpy, sweet pulp.
I haven't given up.  I'll get them to eat it yet...  Smoothies, vinagrettes, maybe even a cocktail or some ice cream.

Taste Adventure - Haggis

We've all had those moments in our jobs where we want to run screaming from the building, hands pulling out hair, and screaming obscenities.  Okay, maybe I'm the only one.  Last week was one of those weeks.  Drowning in dishes, snotty noses, laundry, and baby food I very nearly did run from the house.  Lucky for my kids, I know I'm better than child services, even in my frazzled state.  Two things kept me going - the new laptop Hubby bought me and the promise of a date night for Robbie Burns Day.

Months ago I'd signed us up for a scotch tasting event for Robbie Burns Day.  Technically there is some Scottish in Hubby, although you wouldn't know it.  He isn't a crazy Scot, just a little wonky.  Last week I was the crazy one and a lot of Scotch was going to help me get over it.  This was not a night for the girls.

The event was hosted by J. Webb Wine Merchants.  Conveniently we live only a few blocks from their flagship store so we are familiar with Lee and the folks who run the joint.  Their first Burns Night saw them bring in a number of scotches all made by independent bottlers.  These are scotches distilled by certain owners who then sell their casks, in all or in part, to bottlers.  Having generally stuck to certain distilleries in our scotch adventures in the past it was a somewhat welcome change.  Only somewhat because most of the scotches on hand were milder than what we generally like.  It was an interesting comparison nonetheless.

And yes, there was haggis and the requisite crusty Scotsman in a kilt reciting Robbie Burns.  We loaded up our plates with a good portion of haggis, some oatcakes, gravlax, and a wonderful strong cheddar.  Being the adventurous eaters we are, there was no hesitation in tasting the haggis.  It smelled like a combo of meatloaf and pate, and tasted as such.  Considering what it looks like - cooked in a pig's stomach and all - I chose not to photograph it for here.  No great complaints, but I wouldn't gush about it.  I'd rather have a Valbella pate.

All was going well until one of the presenters suggested that it was very Scottish to pour scotch on your hagggis.  Let me tell, that was a bad idea.  It took a beer from the Wild Rose Brewery to take that nasty taste combination out of my mouth.  Leave good scotch alone and we'll all be happier.  As was I at the end of the night.

Sushi Night - Taste Adventure

It was a surf and turf weekend. After a crazy week with the renos and lots of mess the family - meaning me - was in no mood for cooking. Out for steaks one night and then Hubby and I decided we needed sushi. Time for The Monster's first sushi.

We chose to go to Kinjo, a sushi bar in an old Tim Horton's. We've been there before, and been quite happy. On the plus side, it's close. It isn't the best sushi we've ever had, but it's good. And after our adventure on Saturday we'll be back.

The gregarious owner, Peter, greeted us with a carved orange and melons for the Monster, a forced (by knife) declaration of love from Hubby to me, a couple of boxes of Pocky candy for the table, and a free treat of four pieces of sushi rolls, a Japanese amuse bouche. It was quite the welcome and good start to the night.

Hubby and I decided to simply order what we liked and let The Monster taste as we went. We've also learned in our restaurant ramblings with her to make sure there is at least one thing on the table we know she will eat. Usually that's bread and butter or some snacks we brought from home. At the sushi bar that is edamame.

She devoured her fruit, attempted to use chopsticks (giving up and spearing fruit with toothpicks instead like they were chopsticks), ate a whole lot of edamame, and opened wide for the sashimi we fed her off our chopsticks. She happily ate her tuna, salmon, snapper, tuna belly, and even tobiko. In fact, the tobiko was quite fascinating to her. After her first bite she swallowed and then had a little shiver, like it went down a bit wrong. We thought we were done with that but she asked for more. About the only thing she wouldn't touch were any kind of rolls. That wasn't surprising to us because she has never been a fan of rice.

Did I mention that she liked wasabi?

This isn't a restaurant review, but I would be remiss if I didn't mention the service at Kinjo. The kids were welcomed warmly. In fact, one thing that struck us was just how many children were there. All the kids are welcomed with a carved orange and the Peter told us that they'd served at least 30 oranges that night. It made us, as a young family, very comfortable. Sushi bars can have a lot of reverence and formality associated with their hospitality, making you feel welcome but hushed. Not Kinjo. Kids are encouraged and entertained. It keeps the parents happy (and coming back) and the kids a bit more adventurous.

Sources:
Kinjo Sushi 403-255-8998

Taste Adventure - Bok Choy

There are sleep regressions well documented for babies and toddlers (and we know all about them lately), but are there eating regressions?

The Monster's voracious appetite was called into question lately. A few bites of her dinner and then on to playing with her placemat or milk. A couple of rounds of Itsy Bitsy Spider and The Alphabet Song and she declared herself done with dinner. While this makes for a loud and entertaining dinnertime, it frustrated us because a half hour later she asked for a snack. She wasn't proclaiming the food bad, just that she was done eating. What were we to do?

It turns out that feeding her is the thing to do; actually putting the food on fork and directing it to her mouth. Happily she lets herself be fed bite after bite of food she seemingly didn't want. This from a girl that downright refused to be spoon fed once her fingers discovered how to pick up food and shove it in her mouth.

In the past week we shared dinners of spicy Tex Mex beans and avocados, moose chili, and stir fry. She ate more meat than she's eaten in a month with us feeding her. And she very happily ate the rice and baby bok choy from the stir fry the other night. She's never happily eaten rice before.

The baby bok choy was a taste adventure for her and a cooking adventure for me. It's been years since I made it, stir fry taking a backseat in my repertoire for some reason. It was a weekly staple in my univerisity and early co-habitating days. On Sunday I couldn't resist the bright green and white crisps, knowing they would taste fantastic with a load of garlic and ginger. There was some leftover pork tenderloin to add and a few carrots and peppers to round out the dish.

The Monster ate one pepper and carrot, then declared herself done. Uh uh, little one, you need to eat more than that. So, after she serenaded us, Hubby started loading up the fork. Bite by bite she ate it all, even declaring the slightly spicy stir fry yummy. Did she know she was eating anything new? I doubt it, but I'm happy she ate it.

My only question is this, how long do we have to keep feeding her? Little Miss Sunshine started solids this week so I don't want to spoon feed two kids.