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?"