Autumn's spectre on a Wintery pavement

Is this the work of a patriotic stencil artist or is it simply the only block in Canada to not feel the two stroke breath of a leaf blower?

Christmas Cake

This Chocolate, Raspberry and Creme Fraiche layer cake was my contribution to Christmas dinner. This photo was taken post operation after the corrective surgery required to remove the baking paper from under each layer of chocolate cake. Thankfully I realised the error of my baking ways in time and didn't ruin Christmas. 

Comfort Food

An almond and chocolate croissant from Boulangerie Chopain

Above my head Vancouver is making a concerted bid to impress international delegates to name it "the Greyest city in the World." Despite the horizontal rain and an umbrella that prefers to invert itself and masquerade as a portable satellite dish, I am exceedingly happy. On my lips remains the sweet grit of sugar that dusted the apple filled donut from Lee's Donuts in the Granville Island Market. The simple delight derived from biting into the yeasted dough to be greeted by the ooze of cinnamon infused apple sauce reminds me of the great comfort that food can give.

The term comfort food is synonymous with fried food and rich Winter fare but to me it is the taste, the smell of anything that makes you feel at home. What makes it even better is that food can be a fantasy home entirely removed from your own. It can be a Mexican hacienda, a rustic Tuscan villa or a refined, ultra-modern condominium with sleek lines.

Some dishes through no fault of their own fall out of favour or even worse into being cliched.  Chicken cacciatore is one such victim of over-exposure and poor execution. Having cooked it on a couple occasions recently I have found it to be every bit as comforting as it would have been to the cacciatore (or hunters) who originally prepared it. What's not to love about golden, braised chicken falling off the bone with the sweetness of sweated onion, garlic, oregano and red pepper; the salty edge of capers and plump olives in a shimmering, rich tomato and white wine sauce.

At times home can be constructed from the most unassuming of materials. Beef cheeks are some of my favourite lumber for building a snug log cabin in the woods. Given time they reward you for your patience as the beautiful, gelatinous texture melts away in your mouth. For a dinner party I braised some with red wine and thyme at 95C for twelve hours and served it with a celeriac puree. To serve with the meal, I made a salad with a new building material for me; fresh chickpeas. I paired the blanched chickpeas with shaved golden beetroot, kohlrabi, parsley, shallot and dressed it with lemon juice, olive oil and dried oregano. It proved to be a fresh new addition in my beef cheek cabin.

Every so often strangers provide you with a home away from home. At the moment I have an insatiable hunger for my two new homes (La Tacqueria and Bread & Meat) both in Gastown that has me constantly thinking "homeward bound I wish I was."

La Tacqueria is hole in the wall Mexican taco shop serving their addictive fillings in double soft corn tortillas. The simple answer to the question how do you choose between the Pescado (grilled fish with pico de gallo) and the De Cachete (braised pork cheeks from Chilliwack) is you don't. You order both plus the sauteed mushrooms in chipotle sauce (De Picadillo), the braised beef cheeks with pickled onion and hope that you have room left for the Rajas Con Crema. 

Conveniently only a block away from La Tacqueria, an Australian ex-pat and his Canadian mates have established a stubble chic shrine to carbs and protein; Meat & Bread. The concept is as simple as the name, on the altar of warm, freshly baked bread is placed delicious portions of fattened sacrificial beast. It might be harissa braised lamb shoulder with jicama and coriander served on the paper lined wooden chopping board along the house mustard and truly excellent sambal. Ultimately it's all about the porchetta, a rolled roast of Two Rivers pork. The slices of herb stuffed porchetta are sweet, succulent with the textural contrast of the crunch of golden crackling and finished with a bright, punchy salsa verde.

Although I will be risking accusations of being a home wrecker I may well have discovered a comfort food that will tear me away from my Gastown digs. Ramen Santouka offers Tokusen Toroniku Ramen, a bowl of buttery flavoured, salt broth full of noodles. The pork broth is accompanied by bamboo shoots, jelly ear, slices of melting boiled pigs jowl and finished with a pickled plum.

Every so often I encounter a person who cooks so effortlessly and with such soul that I cannot help but be envious. The latest is Delilah a joyous Columbian kitchen-hand who calls me (and everyone else) honey. One night as she had promised, Delilah brought in some of her home cooking, deboned chicken thighs stuffed with potato and peas and cooked in a "coconut milk gravy" as well as a simple salad. Some people cook as they live and I am thankful to have met and eaten Delilah's food.

  

The plight of being a culinary orphan is a very pleasant affliction, taking comfort and being nurtured by all foods that open their doors to me. In the words of another ravenous street urchin, I am left asking "Please sir, can I've some more?"  

Salted chocolate caramel

Toby's Recipe

This is a remarkably simple but decadent and delicious dessert. It can be served as a petit four or alternatively form the base for a plated dessert,  recently I served it with a roasted chestnut puree and candied walnuts.

Salted Chocolate Caramel

1 cup caster sugar

1/2 cup glucose (honey or corn syrup can be substituted)

1 cup cream

60g couverture chocolate

1 tbsp butter

Place the sugar and glucose in a saucepan. Over medium heat bring to a caramel.  Just before the caramel starts to burn remove from the heat and add the cream. Return to the heat and bring to 115C (use a sugar thermometer to check the temperature). Fold in the chocolate and butter then pour into a lined tin.

Allow to cool the transfer to the refrigerator. Portion once set. Serve at room temperature and finish with a pinch of good quality sea salt flakes. 

Stanley Park Seawall

 Sunset over Kitsilano (albeit at twenty past four).

Some festive ice decorations hanging on the rock faces along the seawall.

The view from Stanley Park across the water towards West Vancouver.

Deck the Halls with the bowels of holly!

Due to a glitch in scheduling, apparently there is another season of significance occurring concurrently with Canada's most celebrated season; the National Hockey League. Most Vancouver residents are hoping that the Sedin twins will skate down their chimney and deposit a Stanley cup in their Canuck monogramed stockings. Those that have been able to tear themselves away from the twenty four hour analysis of all things puck related, have been perplexed by the appearance of the mascots of the rival league.
Lights, wreaths and spray frosting abounds in this new realm populated by people on stilts dressed as twelve foot ginger bread men and Santas keeping warm in malls assisted by a bevy of busty Jagermeister elvettes. Being a nation of heretics, Canadians have a muddied understanding of the Christmas traditions. In fact many here believe that Christmas Day was celebrated on February 28 this year, with the gold medal victory over the United States of America in the men's ice hockey. This belief was compounded by the presence of "The Great One" (Wayne Gretzky) who Canadian children are raised to view as the bearer of gifts.
Another staple of the Christmas period is the Canadian traditional "Deck the halls" the origins of which have been sugar coated over time. Originally the song was written to document a pagan practice of Canadian lumberjacks involving the ritual sacrifice of a maiden named Holly. The shrub that we know as Holly is a symbolic representation of the act, the berries are the viscera and the serrated leaves are like the lumber saw used to sacrifice the virgin. The woodsmen thought that this ritual would ensure a bounty of fresh lumber in the coming year and reduce the sinus problems associated with milling Red cedar.

Won't You Take Me To Fungitown.

This was an exciting selection of mushrooms that one of the suppliers brought into work.  From the delicate miniature shitakes, the majestic king oysters, the beautiful lavender toned blue foot mushrooms, the clusters of blue oysters, brown and white honsemiji . The box of goodies also included these gorgeous, little home grown chickpeas.

These beautiful mushrooms became a simple and delicious breakfast.

Mushrooms on toast

Selection of mushrooms (blue foot, blue oyster, king oyster, miniature shitake and button)

1 brown onion (sliced)

4 garlic cloves (minced)

1/2 tsp thyme (fresh or dried)

1/2 tsp fennel seeds

1/2 tbsp  Dijon mustard

1/2 cup chicken stock (or water)

1/2 cup milk

Sweat the onion in butter and/or olive oil. Add the garlic, spices and saute. Add the mustard, stock and milk, reduce to form a sauce.

In a pan saute the mushrooms with olive oil over a medium/ high heat until they have a golden brown colour. Add the sauce and simmer. Season to taste.

Serve on good quality, toasted bread.

Mi Mexican condiments (Casa Remus)

  Recently I made Baja Fish Tacos and to accompany them I produced some  Mexican condiments: the ubiquitous pickled red onions; a texturally interesting ensalada de nopalitos (the first time that I have prepared fresh cactus) and delicious spicy Mexican pickled vegetables.   

Spicy mexican pickled vegetables

12 garlic cloves
1 medium onion (cut into wedges)
3/4 cup olive oil
4 medium carrots (thinly sliced)
1 tspn black pepper corns
1 1/2 cups white vinegar
2 cups water
5 whole jalapenos
1 medium cauliflower (in florettes)
3 tbspn salt
3 medium zucchini (thinly sliced)
12 small bay leaves
3/4 tspn dried majoram
3/4 tsp dried oregano
5 whole sprigs of thyme

Saute garlic and onion in hot oil for 3 minutes.
Add carrots and peppercorns, saute for 5 minutes.
Add vinegar and jalapenos; cover; reduce heat, simmer for 3 minutes.
Stir in water; cover and bring to the boil.
Add cauliflower and salt, stir well, cover, reduce the heat to medium and cook for 5 minutes.
Add zucchini, bay leaves, majoram, oregano and thyme. Stir well and cook for 2 minutes.
Transfer and cool for at least 8 hours before serving.

Ensalada de Nopalitos (Cactus Salad)

1 piece of cactus (peeled, then grilled or boiled and chilled)

1 shallot (diced)

2 tbsp coriander (chopped)

3 tbsp vegetable oil

4 tspn white wine vinegar

1/4 tspn salt

1/4 tspn dried oregano

 black pepper

Combine cactus, shallot and coriander.

Combine the remaining ingredients and dress the salad.

Cover and refrigerate for at least 4 hours.

Mexican pickled red onions

1 medium red onion (halved lengthways and thinly sliced)

1 habanero (deseeded and thinly sliced)

1/4 cup fresh orange juice

1/4 cup fresh lime juice

1 tsp dried oregano

1/2 tsp salt

Boiling water

Pour boiling water over the onion, allow to soften (15 minutes).

Drain well and combine with the other ingredients.

The Raccoon that ate Neil Young

In the lead up to carving my very first pumpkin for Halloween, I sought to find an inspiration that encapsulated the harvest spirit, the role of the moon and a distinctly Canadian sense. What better than a jack o lantern paying homage to Neil Young's iconic Harvest Moon album! Armed with a nine dollar carving kit, I set about realising my vision.

Upon completing the pumpkin I placed it on the back deck. Not for a moment did I suspect that in such a good neighbourhood there would be the presence of a rabid Lynyrd Skynyrd fan, a raccoon hell bent on exacting his southern revenge on the Canadian songsmith. The image above shows the pumpkin Neil Young in happier times, minutes before his untimely demise.

Snow Day

For all of you that have wondered what became of the performing artist responsible for the early nineties hit “Informer”, it turns out that the magical story of his fate is a familiar folk tale here in Canada. According to recording industry insiders, Snow poured all of his creative juices into making “Informer” which climbed the music charts ascending into the stratosphere of success. Eventually all of Snow’s creative essence was absorbed into the atmosphere (leaving the white rapper 99% inspiration free and severely dehydrated) and as the world cooled to his unintelligible rhymes, the evaporated creativity formed ice crystals (not to confused with Vanilla Ice crystals), which fell silently to earth. In time, this meteorological phenomenon was named after the man responsible for it. To this day, Canadian children build Snowmen as a cautionary totem to remind budding Justin Biebers of the perilous pitfalls of life as a performing artist. Some say that if you listen closely, you can hear these frozen, sculpted priors whisper “…A licky boom boom down…”

Having not seen snow in many now, there was a certain child-like joy and wonder to waking up to find the world iced in ten centimetres of snow. It transforms the landscape with its’ complete disregard of man made delineations. It is obviously not well versed in notions of private property or possibly it has socialist inclinations as it indiscriminately levels the landscape, concealing the borders, paying no heed to social hierarchies blanketing lawns both the manicured and the threadbare. The austere, monochromatic tones of winter certainly reflect communist leanings but it is hard to dispel the feeling that there is something decidedly anarchic about snowfall. Observing the way the snowflakes come to roost on tree branches, cling to the lee side of street posts and effortlessly alight on the power line tightropes, it’s like an icy act of defiance against the forces of nature and gravity. Newton’s laws aren’t the only being broken as the mechanisms of the state are entombed in ice. The visual memory of: roads, fire hydrants and utilities, obliterated by the marauding water crystals.

Contrary to the “winter wonderland” tag that is often used to describe the pristine appearance of a landscape under the covering of snow there is the little discussed dirty underworld of this sub-zero playground. For every Disneyland moment there is developing world sweat-shop, in the dungeons deep beneath the happiest place on earth, where undiscovered Cinderellas produce affordable memories. The same is true in the snow. Look beyond the frosted gingerbread  cottages and you will see that it is not all reindeer with sleigh bells and candy canes.
The soundtrack to winter is a little less Bing Crosby and more:
"A million magic crystals, painted pure and white
A multi-million dollars almost overnight
Twice as sweet as sugar, twice as bitter as salt
And if you get hooked, baby, it's nobody else's fault, so don't do it!"
That's right Mr Grandmaster Flash, I've White Lines blowin' through my mind! The outside world looks the set of Scarface; people, automobiles are getting crazy on ice; used pine-needles litter the pavements and the roads look like they are lined with dirty crack rocks. The slippery slide is well documented, one day you may sitting on the deck with the smell of skunk lingering in the air and the next you are in casualty because your nose has collapsed due to a frost-bitten septum having snorted your driveway.

It is fast becoming clear why Georgio Armani would hold off launching collections until Spring. Black ice is not the only reason runways are treacherous for models at this time of year. Anna Wintour savaged the last designer to put size zero women in long johns, with multiple layered t-shirts, a Stanfield under a fluoro waterproof jacket with reflective highlights and finished off with a toque and mittens. Apparently she did not like the silhouette! Suddenly the minus fourteen degree over night temperature is bringing into focus the logic behind the previously inexplicable fashion trends of Cat work boots, puffy jackets and the Seattle grunge layered look. Currently I have been pushing the boundaries of cold weather couture with knee length woollen socks (last seen on Olivia Newton-John's 1981 tour of Antarctic RSL clubs) under a pair boots that only rated to -70 Celsius, offset by toque coiffed hair.

Whilst salting the roads is a common and necessary practice to ensure that they are free of ice, it has hidden and unexpected side-effects. When cooking with Canadian seafood it is important to be aware to under season as much of it has been reared in the briny ocean outfall.  This high sodium diet is having devastating effects on the native wildlife. The orca population complains of shortness of breath and hypertension is hampering sockeye salmon in their efforts to climb the fish ladders to spawn. One plus is that the iodized road salt has reduced the rate of goiter in sea lions.

One thing is for certain winter is a frustrating time for your inner perfectionist. When shovelling the snow    from the driveway, I could feel myself channelling Lady MacBeth. "Out, damned ice spot!...What, will these driveways ne'er be cleared?" As I knelt on the concrete gently thawing it with a blow dryer, I gazed further afield and realised that I had a greater purpose in life; to save the vegetation of the world from freezer burn. Now I am but one man on a cling wrap crusade to seal in the freshness of a landscape under a meteorological assault.

The phrase "pure as snow" is somewhat of a misnomer considering its' associations with: questionable clothing; a forgotten white rapper; drug connotations; excessive salt and an indecipherable political agenda. Despite all of this, I feel an overwhelming urge to embrace the cold and warm the cockles of my heart with a candy cane latte supreme.

Lifting the cap on fungiculture: A world of fleshy, spore-bearing fruity bodies

Arbutus

Mount Tzouhalem: My own private Corfu

To paraphrase Simon and Garfunkel:

"Someone told me,

It's all happening at the Tzou.

I do believe it,

I do believe it's true."

In the absence of employment and responsibilities, Mount Tzouhalem has provided structure and purpose to my otherwise idle lifestyle. It is the topographical and figurative highpoint of most of my days on Vancouver Island. To some this may sound like an indictment on an apathetic existence, to me it has felt like a renewal of childhood wonder. Having grown up with the autobiographical book "My family and other animals" by Gerald Durrell, I have been reminded of the joy of exploration and discovery derived from being absorbed into a landscape.

A great many adult past times that involve nature are inherently adversarial, the environment merely provides a backdrop and resistance to a predetermined activity. There is no doubt that people are fascinated by the conquistadors like Bear Grylls pitting themselves the wilderness but like all human dramas we presume that we are essential to the narrative. One of the most refreshing things about the time that I have spent on the mountain is the awareness of how inconsequential my presence is to all of the sub-plots that being played out around me.

Day by day I have had the privilege to observe the subtle shifts in the surrounding, the changing nature of light as summers warmth melded into the muted tones of autumn before winter drained away the light. The dry gullies have gradually transformed from damp patches to trickling streams now frozen holding Maple leaves in icy suspension. Tiny hamlets of mushroom communities have sprung up, thrived, expanding their fungal empires before falling into decay.

My first and abiding impression of the Canadian woods was how stark the contrasts are between it and the Australian bush. The bush is confrontational, trails are hard and dry, harsh, blinding sunlight piercing the swishing foliage of creaking gum trees. The heady hot vapours of eucalyptus oil hanging in the air and the spaces in between filled by a raucous chorus of cockatoos.

If the Australian landscape feels like it was the product of a big, brash backyard blitz by a Queenslander named Barry, then Canadian forests are sanctimonious shrines to the virtues of modesty. The flora and fauna abide by the monastic code of silence. Birds hum Gregorian chants in their little heads that they dare not put into song. Leaves fall their self-flagellating path through the whipping branches renouncing their colourful vanity, before finally carpeting paths with their prone form to deaden the sound of footfall. Pine trees stand at a respectable arms length distance and even in high winds they appear like awkward teenagers at a formal dance whispering mumbled apologies for incidental contact.
In accordance with the Papal edict regarding woodland impropriety all up-rooted and reclining timber, exposed boughs, unsightly rock formations and bare, earthy mounds must robe themselves in moss and lichen. These bryophytes are figurative fig leaf of this forest fresco, obscuring from sight the orgiastic spectacle of naked fir trees frolicking through open glens.
Whether it is genetics or environmental conditioning most animals have adapted to the prohibitive noise restrictions of Canadian woodland culture. Consequently the category of best actor in a silent role is an extremely competitive one. It is possible to debate for hours the individual merits of any of the following:  the squirrel's Marcel Marceau rendition of "Devouring a pine cone"; the cougars method acting in " Stealthily stalking a hiker"; the demure doe fatale from "Serene fern chewing" or the thirty eagle ensemble piece called  "The Salmon Hunter of Cowichan Bay." In the end there can only be one winner and for their insightful look into life in the mucusy ghettos of Tzou in "Slugz n the Wood", the award goes to gastropod molluscs.
If there is an ideal holiday spot for slugs to come and rest their tired foot it is here on Vancouver Island. Welcome to Costa del Sog, a mild, damp wooded wonderland. Laze away your days on the shores of pristine puddles. Soak up the essential oils of the forest floor, whilst the canopy of pines shield your optical tentacles from the dappled light. Stay in our wide range of fungus condominiums, catering to slugs of all colours and sizes.
One of the major consequences of the all pervasive stillness of the landscape is that automatically transforms any sound or movement in a mortal threat. At best the not too distant crack of a twig signals the presence of a cross-bow wielding red-neck sociopath who simply wants some company through the cold Canadian winter. Worst case scenario it's a foodie grizzly bear that has just swum across from the mainland and is looking for some contemporary Australian cuisine because he is tired of the ubiquitous West coast fare on offer in Vancouver.
Arbutus are a native evergreen tree on the island that reminds me a bit of gum trees back home. The outer bark is like fine dark scale which flake away to reveal ochre coloured bark. This fine parchment bark cracks and forms long curls like thin shavings from a plane. Beneath is the smooth trunk of the Arbutus, a yellow green form as if a cast bronze that has been buffed to highlight it's lean muscularity. They evoke in me the same sense of strength and life trapped in a form, as Michelangelo's unfinished slave sculptures in the Academia in Florence.
Even before the financial imperative of getting a job intervenes and takes me away from here, I know already that I'll miss my "fine and fancy rambles" to the Tzou.

Mount Tzouhalem: My own private Corfu

Asparagus Syndrome

What does it mean if your most meaningful social interactions are with a kaffir lime leaf? What if your tears are not caused by propanethiol S-oxide, but flow from some deep seated empathy for the brown onion that lies in rings on your chopping board. Is it odd to try and see the potential for good in thymus gland of a dead cow?
There are a great many ingredients in this world, probably too many to know in one lifetime. Of those that I have met some have proven to be valuable colleagues, others passing acquaintances, regrettable one night stands and a select few my most trusted confidants. Having spent a little time living in this realm of produce I know that it is only through respect and understanding that I can make the most of the friendships that I forge here.
This insight does not mean that I have never tarried from the path of culinary enlightenment. At my hands anglaise has become vanilla flecked scrambled eggs and like a misguided Moses I have split seas of mayonnaise. Sometimes I have unreasonably asked two conflicting elements to co-habitat a plate or invested too much time and energy on new ingredient and neglected those that have been good to me.
Faithfulness is a great challenge in cooking where there is the constant allure of the unknown. New love affairs can be formed in an instant, the thrill of the new sensation as the first taste fills your mouth, nose and thoughts. You want to own it, so that you can constantly relive that initial sense that your world had expanded.
My choice of culinary companions is at times as much a reflection of my xenophobia and prejudices as it is of my better judgement. It is easy to forget that there was a time when the pungent odour of shrimp paste would merely have induced disgust and the notion of ingesting engorged goose liver would have seemed repugnant not indulgent. My narrow mindedness is not only directed towards things that are foreign and mysterious, at times it is the most commonplace ingredients that I offer least respect. Familiarity can breed complacency and disregard and it is only a chance encounter with a cabbage in another context that makes you realise how wonderful this modest plant can be.
Cooking can be one of the purest acts of empathy as you take elements and endeavour to understand their nature, their great qualities, flaws and needs. Then armed with this knowledge the challenge is to shape conditions to generate an environment that is most conducive to fulfilling the potential of the ingredients at your disposal.
Care and respect have a very distinctive flavour, one that cannot be synthesised or replaced through technical wizardry. Understanding is not solely the domain of those that can perfectly set a protein in a sous vide bag.
I guess that this is why I find myself in a polygamous relationship with cloves of garlic, sticks of asparagus, rounds of Camembert and half shell scallops, in the hope that one day I will be able to extend to them the friendship that they have offered me.