Into the Archives: Patrice Fortier, permaculture hero & seed evangelist

fig. a: Patrice Fortier in his element

It’s hard to believe, but it’s now been OVER 20 YEARS since we first made the acquaintance of Patrice Fortier and his incomparable la Société des Plantes, one of the world’s great purveyors of rare and heirloom seeds, and, therefore, significant figures in the push for biodiversity and sustainability. Its name might conjure visions of vast fields and orchards, huge arrays of greenhouses, and large teams of botanists, but la Société des Plantes is a modest operation, owned and operated by Patrice and his small team of associates and based on a small farm in Kamouraska, in the Bas-Saint-Laurent region of Eastern Quebec. In any case, in retrospect, it seems as though we actually met Patrice before we started “…an endless banquet,” in the fall of 2004, but that our second encounter with Patrice occurred right in the thick of the first month of AEB’s existence—November 2004—a period of excitement and high enthusiasm that resulted in a torrent of posts (21 in all, although many of them amounted to little more than “micro-blogging,” avant la lettre).

Patrice quickly became not only an inspiration for this couple of novice food bloggers, he became a good friend. And back in the day, he used to regularly show up in Montreal with his fantastic (and fantastical) assortments of vegetables and hold these largely impromptu farm stand sales that were very much true to the DIY roots of la Société des Plantes (and very much in line with the DIY philosophy of AEB), so he also became a recurring character in the pages of AEB. Not surprisingly, a number of our favourite posts feature Patrice quite prominently.

The photo up top—the one with the full angelica headdress—is my favourite photo of Patrice. In 2012 we finally went to visit Patrice in Kamouraska, and when we did we discovered that a documentary film was being made about him: Julie Perron’s Le Semeur (2014). We arrived just in time to behold the shooting of an elaborate fertility ritual that Patrice had created for the film. My photograph is a behind-the-scenes view of the action that captures some of the chaotic energy that was in the air on that August afternoon. If you’re interested in tracking down the finished version of Le Semeur (The Sower), you can do so here.

And if you’d like to read all about that magical first visit to la Société des Plantes, you can do so right here. In addition to details of our visit to Patrice’s farm, you’ll find tales of bakeries, charcuterie producers, smokehouses, restaurants, and eel appreciation centres, as well as a preview for a stunning “Hommage à Kamouraska” menu that Michelle had created for Foodlab (a.k.a., Labo Culinaire), featuring vegetables from la Société des Plantes.

fig. b: Patrice’s squashes, Mile End, 2005

The AEB Archives also contain a number of posts about Patrice’s numerous DIY farm stand sales, especially in the years 2004-2010. Some of these literally took place on street corners. Others took place in an odd assortment of businesses, all of them run by members of Montreal’s secretive Vegetable Underground, like bike shops and wine importation houses.

Examples of these posts include our very first piece on Patrice and la Société des Plantes in November 2004, as well as the following items:

• November 2005: a sale at Villeneuve Bicycle (now C & L Cycle)

• October 2006: a sale “in the parking lot at 5550 Casgrain”

• November 2010: a sale at the wine importers la QV’s headquarters on Beaubien

fig. c: Michelle & her Société des Plantes cardoon, 2006

Finally, this is one of my favourite photos of Michelle from AEB. It’s a photo of her holding a prized la Société des Plantes cardoon in 2005.

We had the pleasure of seeing Patrice again yesterday when he held a sale of his seeds (sorry, no vegetables this time!) at Librarie Gourmande at Marché Jean-Talon. It was such a treat to see him again—it had been a while. And one of the reminiscences that came up was the vision of Michelle and her cardoon at one of those early streetside sales. Patrice mentioned that AEB had been among the first to draw attention to la Société des Plantes in Montreal. That may have been true, but our interest in Patrice and la Société des Plantes had everything to do with his phenomenal assortments of vegetables and his magnetic personality. He was the one who was doing something extraordinary. He still is.

Once again, if you’d like to learn more about la Société des Plantes, you can check out their website HERE. If you’re a gardener, or you have gardeners in your life, seeds from la Société des Plantes make a wonderful gift.

aj

p.s. 1: One of our earliest recipes was one inspired by our second visit to one of Patrice’s sales, where we picked up “white carrots and white beets, tomatillos, chervil, homemade plum preserve, homemade herbes salées, and fresh horseradish.” The fresh horseradish found its way into a recipe for Horseradish Mashed Potatoes that we’d gleaned from Amanda Hesser’s 1999 book The Cook and the Gardener (seems appropriate), just a few years before Hesser founded Food52. Without any further ado:

Horseradish Mashed Potatoes

1 1/2 pounds potatoes, washed
salt
1/3 c. freshly grated horseradish
juice of 1 lemon
1/4 c. heavy cream
3 tbsp. butter
black pepper

Boil the potatoes in water and salt until tender. Drain.
Grate horseradish, keeping eyes as far away from the grater as possible, and add lemon juice right away.
Crush potatoes with a masher, add horseradish, cream, 2 tbsp. butter, salt and pepper to taste. Mash until desired consistency is reached.
Heat remaining tbsp. of butter in a medium pot, add potatoes, cover, place over medium heat, and stir until they are served.

Serves 6 as a side dish.

(This recipe comes from The Cook and the Gardener by Amanda Hesser)

p.s. 2: Did we pick up some seeds for ourselves? Yes, of course, we picked up some seeds for ourselves!

fig. d: La Société des Plantes seeds, ready to be broadcast

The Shortlist (2024 edition)

What are some of the Montreal restaurants, bars, boucheries, boulangeries, cheese shops, and specialty stores that AEB actually frequents?  Here’s a shortlist…

Aliments Viens, 4556B boulevard St-Laurent (Mile End), 514-379-4666—The city’s best source for artisanal charcuterie also happens to be a very fine butcher shop and specialty foods store.  Their selection of beef, pork, chicken, and veal is well-sourced and expertly butchered.  Their exceptional charcuterie counter (cold cuts, sausages, saucissons secs, pâtés, etc.) is always tantalizing.  And they also sell an excellent selection of conservas, pastas, eggs, cheeses, prepared dishes, and other delicacies.

Bar Henrietta, 115 avenue Laurier W. (Mile End), (514) 276-4282—Chef Eric Dupuis created this beautiful Mile End bar a number of years ago. It’s been a fixture of the neighbourhood ever since. Great wine selection. Lovely cocktails. And a short, but thoughtful, and perfectly executed menu of bar snacks and small plates.

Boulangerie Automne, 6500 avenue Christophe-Colomb (Petite Patrie)—If there’s a better bakery for bread and viennoiseries in Montreal, we don’t know of it.  Our go-to bakery for breads that I don’t bake at home, like baguettes, as well as chocolatines, pains aux raisins, danishes, buns, and other gourmandises.  Truly outstanding, and now working closely with the amazing people at Moulin de Charlevoix to source much of their flour (!).

Caffè in Gamba, 5263 ave du Parc (Mile End), 514-656-6852—For a few years now, my café of choice.  Features an extensive selection of third wave coffee beans from across North America, and a top-notch espresso program with some talented (and award-winning) baristas.  Plus, they renovated during the pandemic, introducing a bright, light-hued new look—very L.A., actually—that’s been perfect for the New Age.

Camellia Sinensis, 351 rue Émery (Latin Quarter) & 7010 rue Casgrain (Little Italy/Jean-Talon Market)—Not only the best tea shop in Montreal, but one of the very best in North America.  Extremely knowledgeable and well-travelled staff.  Truly magnificent selection of teas from India, Japan, China, Taiwan, and beyond.

Carolota Boulangerie Mexicaine, 4804 rue St-Urbain (Mile End), 514-513-8225—One of the best bakeries to appear on the Montreal food scene in years is this fantastic (and fantastically friendly) Mexican boulangerie. We’re huge fans of their pastries (especially their cinnamon conchas) and their tamales. Don’t miss their fabulous pan de muerto in season (late October into November)!

Chez Nino, 192 Place du Marché-du-Nord (Little Italy/Jean-Talon Market), 514-277-8902—One of the finest green grocers in Montreal, and an excellent source for rare and hard-to-find products like Buddha’s Hand citron and Rosa di Gorizia radicchio.

Chez Vito, 5180 rue St-Urbain (Mile End), 514-277-1981—A Mile End fixture for decades, and deservedly so.  In addition to their wide selection of meats, cold cuts, and cheeses, they also happen to be an excellent source for Italian specialty food products, including pastas, olive oils, preserves of all kinds, and seasonal delicacies (like imported panettone).

Double’s, 5171 avenue du Parc (Mile End)—Looks like a dive bar. Feels like a dive bar. Acts like a dive bar. But it also happens to be a cheerful, dive-y restaurant that’s overseen by Executive Chef Danny Smiles. The place in Mile End for a smashburger and a martini. Open LATE.

Elena, 5090 rue Notre-Dame Ouest (St-Henri), 514-379-4883—Despite its long history in our fair city, for years pizza was a sorry affair in Montreal. It took new generation restos like Elena, with their wood-fired, perfectly blistered, slow-fermented sourdough pies, to put an end to this travesty once and for all.  Personal faves:  rossa with stracciatella; margherita; M. Funguy (with loads of mushrooms); artichoke and ham. And although Elena is best known for its pizza, everything they do, they do well, including top-notch pasta dishes, overstuffed hoagies, a killer wine selection, coffee, and desserts.  Still one of my favourite dining rooms in the city, too, and their terrasse is spectacular when the weather allows.

Épices de cru, 7070 avenue Henri-Julien, C-6 (Little Italy/Jean-Talon Market), 514-273-1118—No other spice shop in the city compares, and, frankly, Épices de cru is one of the finest and most ambitious spice shops in all of North America.  Ethné & Philippe de Vienne have spent decades tracking down the most exceptional spices and herbs around the world in-person.  Their sourcing and their ability to forge contacts are legendary.  Consequently, their selection is spectacular and always of the highest quality.  A treasure.

Etna Pastaficio,, 244 rue Jarry E. (Villeray/Jarry Park), (438) 408-6030—Etna started off as a restaurant and wine bar, but during the pandemic they made a brilliant pivot: they became a pastaficio, an artisanal pasta shop specializing in top-notch, freshly produced stuffed and extruded pastas, as well as wine.

Euro-Deli Batory,, 115 rue Saint-Viateur W. (Mile End), (514) 948-2161—Hands down the restaurant we’ve frequented the most in the 25 years since we moved to Montreal. Does that mean that Euro-Deli Batory is our favourite restaurant in the city? It’s quite possible. We’ve probably dined there over 1,000 times. No joke. The thing is I only ever order the same handful of things (potato-cheese pierogis, cabbage-mushroom pierogis, clear borscht (winter), cold borscht (summer), kielbasa, and occasionally their multi-decker kanapka (sandwich).

Fairmount Bagel, 74 rue Fairmount Ouest (Mile End), (514) 272-0667—In our honest opinion, the definitive Montreal bagel. Don’t get distracted by the silly novelty flavours. Just stick to the classics: sesame, poppy, and everything. If you have any doubts, just order sesame—they are always hot, 24/7/365. There are few pleasures as elemental as biting into a fresh, hot Fairmount sesame bagel just outside the store on a bracingly cold winter day, the steam billowing into the air, the purity and simplicity of that tender, chewy, and slightly sweet flavour—no cream cheese, no smoked salmon necessary!—reaffirming life once again.

Falafel Yoni, 54 rue St-Viateur Ouest (Mile End), 514-424-7767—Montreal used to be a pretty decent falafel town, and then it really wasn’t one for a long, long time.  Thankfully, everything changed a few years ago when Falafel Yoni came along.  We recommend that you get yours prepared “extra-spicy” (with additional zhug).  In addition to the falafel sandwich, I recommend the house-made hummus, lemonina, and fries, while Michelle is a big fan of the sabich sandwich (chopped egg, roasted eggplant, etc.).

Fromagerie Hamel, 220 rue Jean-Talon Est (Little Italy/Jean-Talon Market), 514-272-1161—The fromagerie with the city’s largest selection of cheeses also happens to be its best.  Don’t be a sucker: ask for samples before making your choices like a true Montreal cheese aficionado.

Jean-Talon Market (Little Italy/Jean-Talon)—One of Montreal’s two great green markets, and the one we frequent the most.  Home to a number of places on this shortlist:  Chez Nino, Épices de cru, Fromagerie Hamel, and Camellia Sinensis.

Kitano Shokudo, 143 avenue Mont-Royal Est (Plateau), (438) 383-4700—A truly phenomenal Japanese eatery featuring inventive dishes of exceptional quality, Kitano Shokudo has been one of our favourite dining destinations for the last couple of years. Beautiful fish (sashimi, chirashi, sushi), fantastic noodle dishes, first-rate ramen, etc. Don’t miss their uni carbonara!

Ma Poule Mouillée, 969 rue Rachel Est (Plateau), (514) 522-5175—One of Montreal’s outstanding Portuguese churrascarias. Their grilled chicken options (quarter, half, whole, or sandwich) are all fantastic, as is their grilled chouriço and grilled squid, but the true revelation might be their Portuguese poutine: fries, sauce, grilled chicken, grilled chouriço, Sao Jorge cheese, and piri-piri sauce. They invented it. They own it. Life in Montreal has never been the same since.

Milano, 6862 boulevard St-Laurent (Little Italy), 514-273-8558—Montreal’s Italian specialty foods emporium.  Essential shopping for Italophiles like ourselves.

Mr. Patty, 5312 avenue Patricia (Montreal West), 514-483-2323—The city’s finest Jamaican bakery, specializing, as their name suggests, in patties.  The veggie and chicken varieties are both excellent, but it’s the beef patty, with its oxtail unctuousness, that is the runaway hit.  Buy them by the dozen!   Excellent rotis, too.

Ohayo Café, 145 avenue Mont-Royal Est (Plateau)—From the team that brought us the outstanding Kintado Shokudo right next door, comes Ohayo Café, a casual Japanese coffee shop and diner. Don’t get fooled by the laid-back atmosphere, Ohayo’s kitchen is top-notch, serving up fantastic Japanese sandwiches (fried chicken, tonkatsu, etc.), noodle dishes (like they're incredible burrata mazemen), ramen soups, and other delicacies. Their coffee program is excellent, too.

Pascal le boucher, 8113 rue St-Denis (Villeray), 438-387-6030—This is the full-service, responsibly sourced, and artfully prepared butcher shop Montreal had been waiting for. Attentive, knowledgeable service, and a fantastic selection of the best meat produced in the region.

Pâtisserie Rhubarbe, 1479 avenue Laurier Est (Laurier Village), 514-316-2935—Stephanie Labelle’s boutique has been a fixture on Laurier East now for over a decade, and while her store has been one of the city’s finest pâtisseries since the day they opened, Rhubarbe keeps getting finer and finer.  Brilliant pastries, outstanding cakes, excellent prepared foods and preserves, and a truly beautiful shop.  What more could you ask for in a pâtisserie?

Piazza Salumi, 6833 boulevard St-Laurent (Little Italy), 514-276-6833—Kind of a mini-Milano, directly across the street from the mega-Milano, generally a lot quieter, and featuring Fumagalli’s exceptional line of imported Italian charcuterie.

Pumpui, 83 rue St-Zotique Est (Little Italy), 514-379-3024—Pumpui specializes in the David Thompson/Pok-Pok/Night + Market school of street/night market Thai food, and we wouldn’t have it any other way. Honest, unabashedly spicy & funky, and often adventurous, Pumpui upended the Thai food scene in Montreal. Don’t be afraid to explore the menu fully—who knows what surprises you’ll find—but don’t forget to order some of their phenomenal chicken wings.

Rotisserie Portugalia, 34 rue Rachel Ouest (Plateau), 514-282-1519—For years Rôtisserie Portugalia was our favourite churrascaria in town, then there was a decline and we moved on to other places for our spicy Portuguese-style grilled chicken. Now things at Rôtisserie Portugalia are not only back on track, they’ve found a new lease on life. Not only is their grilled chicken on point, but they now offer one of Montreal’s best sandwiches, the appropriately named Tony Supremo.

Sabor Latino, 4387 boulevard St-Laurent (Plateau), 514-848-1078—Along with Andes, this is Montreal’s premier source for all things Latin American—Mexican, Central American, South American, and Caribbean. They also have a store up in the Plaza St-Hubert area, but this store, occupying the old Sakaris site on St-Laurent, is our local and we go there all the time. Grocery store, green grocer, butcher, bakery, and restaurant, Sabor Latino has it all. Plus, the service is always friendly and the music (cumbia, rebajada, son, etc.) is always great.

Supermarché PA, 5242 avenue du Parc (Mile End), 514-274-8782—A pillar of the Mile End food scene for decades now.  Quality, selection, and prices are always impressive.

Supermarché PA Nature, 5029 avenue de Parc (Mile End), 514-271-8788—PA’s organic and natural foods division, occupying the former location of the original Supermarché PA.  Similarly impressive.

Tinc Set, 1233 avenue Lajoie (Outremont), (514) 303-0315—Exactly the kind of casual, friendly, wine-centric tapas bar we’ve always been hoping for in Montreal. Run by the people in charge of the upscale Alma next door, and sharing the same kitchen, Tinc Set occupies a former dépanneur and makes great use of its walk-in beer cooler. The menu is simple, but thoughtful: snacks and tapas (warm olives, pan con tomate, boquerones, patatas bravas, conservas, etc.), a rotating cast of accompanying dishes (a crudo preparation, a salad, a burrata plate, etc.), and two specialties of the house: a whole roast chicken à la barcelonaise and grilled octopus style pil pil. If all that wasn’t tempting enough, the bar is a showcase for Alma & Tinc Set’s wine importation business and it doubles as a bottle shop. An absolute joy of a restaurant.

Vin Mon Lapin, 150 rue St-Zotique Est (Little Italy), 514-379-4550—Talk about a power couple:    Marc-Olivier Frappier is one of the city’s most talented and creative chefs, and a long-time chef and chef de cuisine with the Joe Beef group; while Vanya Filipovic is one of the city’s most gifted sommeliers and a leading figure among its private wine importers (Les Vins Dame-Jeanne being her importation house).  Vin Mon Lapin was expanded and refurbished during the pandemic, and the place has been absolutely bumping ever since. Quite possibly our favourite Montreal restaurant at the moment.

Wilensky’s Light Lunch, 34 avenue Fairmount Ouest (Mile End), 514-271-0247—The one, the only, the original…the home of the Wilensky Special, a hot, pressed, sliced bologna number that happens to be one of Montreal’s few truly great sandwiches.  In business since 1932, Wilensky’s doubles as a museum of sorts, an artifact of Montreal’s former glory.  But don’t spend too much time admiring your surroundings, because service at Wilensky’s is brisk.  We recommend a Special with cheese (Kraft, of course), a soda fountain drink of your liking (we’re partial to their root beer and their egg creams), and a side of half-sour pickles.  Classic. And now they’re well over 90 YEARS OLD! Amazing!

Wills (a.k.a. Wills.Beer), 6731 avenue de l’Esplanade (Parc Extension), (514) 708-1070—Ethan Wills and Annika Krausz, formerly part of the Lawrence team, together with Alex Wills (Ethan’s brother), have taken over both the former Alexandraplatz and the former Brasserie du Vieux Montréal complex that housed the vanguard Parc Extension bar/hang-out/festival site. They’ve put their own imprint on it and toned down the post-industrial vibe considerably—the look is simultaneously grandiose and human-scaled and approachable. Natural wines, a small but seductive selection of cocktails, and fine beers are issued from the updated horseshoe-shaped bar area. One of the city’s hot spots since 2022.

Make a Hash of It

fig. a: smoked meat hash

It’s unlikely, I know, but what if you found yourself having made a considerable amount of Montreal-style smoked meat?  You’d invite a bunch of friends over for smoked meat sandwiches, naturally.  And you’d be able to curate the experience exactly to your liking.  There’d be pickles, of course—kosher dills and half-sours, if you were able to find them.  There’d be coleslaw.  There’d be black cherry sodas.  And the mustard would be decidedly yellow.  Hell, you could even source some actual rye bread to make your sandwiches with.  Wouldn’t that be a novel idea?

But even with a crew of voracious enthusiasts, you might find yourself with some leftover smoked meat.  I mean, you spent 9 days preparing it—sourcing it, brining it, monitoring it, desalinating it, spicing it, smoking it, AND steaming it—you weren’t exactly going to make smoked meat for two, were you?

So what do you do when life hands you a pile of luscious, homemade smoked meat?  You make a hash of it.

And the thing is, when you make yourself that beautiful smoked meat hash, you’ll have pretty much created an exclusive.  One of the strange things about Montreal is that while smoked meat is plentiful—nearly ubiquitous—smoked meat hash remains severely undercapitalized upon.  Why?  I have no idea.  Seems so obvious, especially because it tastes so delicious

Smoked Meat Hash

1 tbsp butter

1/2 onion, finely chopped

Two medium red potatoes, chopped and boiled (you can either do this in advance of sautéing your onions, or you could use yesterday’s boiled potatoes, if you happen to have some around)

1/4-pound smoked meat, lightly steamed

1 tablespoon parsley, minced

Salt & pepper to taste (keeping in mind that your smoked meat is likely to be adequately savoury—it’s also likely to be heavily adorned in cracked peppercorns)

Optional (but highly recommended):  sour cream

Melt the butter in a skillet and sauté your onions over medium heat.  When the onions have turned translucent, add the boiled potatoes.  Sauté together until the potatoes turn a golden brown and begin to develop some crispiness.

Add the lightly steamed smoked meat.  You could just add cold smoked meat and bring it to temperature with your onions and potatoes, but if you add it lightly steamed it will be luscious from the start and your hash will come together more quickly.  When the hash has started to bewitch you with its lovely aromas, add the parsley and turn down the heat to low.

Poach your eggs.

Toast your bread (preferably rye).

Slice a ripe tomato, if you have one, and dress it with salt & pepper.

When your eggs are just about poached (the method I use takes about 3 1/2 minutes after they’ve been added to water), turn a tantalizing portion of hash onto a plate.  Adorn with a poached egg.  Grace each plate with toast and a slice of ripe tomato (remember:  only if it’s ripe and tasty, otherwise just skip it).

And if you’re a proud member of Team Sour Cream, as both of us are, feel free to gild the hash with a dollop of sour cream.  You won’t regret it.

This recipe makes enough hash for two generous portions.  Scale up as needed, and as your supply of homemade smoked meat allows.

And, yes, of course:  you can make this smoked meat hash with store-bought smoked meat.  Will it be quite as delicious as a hash made with your perfectly prepared homemade smoked meat?  Probably not.  But it will be tasty.

Hash fiends of the world, rejoice!

aj

2023: The Year in Review, rev. ed.

Now that we’re 10 days into 2024, I can finally muster the courage to try to look back at 2023. This list will likely be shorter and less involved than recent lists, like THIS ONE or THIS ONE or even THIS ONE. I’m not sure I have the energy to live up to those standards. Then again, 2024 marks the 20th anniversary of “…an endless banquet” (!!). There are traditions to uphold, right? Anyway, without any further ado, here’s a list of things that quickened the heart (in a positive way) this past year.

Audio: Song

Altin Gün, Ask

Altin Gün, On

Tim Maia, Nobody Can Live Forever: The Existential Soul of Tim Maia

Destroyer (“solo”), Higher Ground, Burlington, VT & Levon Helm Studios, Woodstock, NY

Rosalía, “Tuya”

Fleetwood Mac, “Rhiannon (live 1976)”

Jimmy Scott, The Source

Mavis Staples, s/t

Mavis Staples, “You Are Not Alone”

The Staple Singers, Be Altitude: Respect Yourself

Sandy Denny, The North Star Grassman and The Ravens

Lewsberg, Out and About

ODESZA, “The Last Goodbye (feat. Bettye LaVette)”

Petula Clark, “La Nuit n’en finit plus”

Felixson Ngasia & the Survivals, “Black Precious Color”

Ibrahim Hesnawi, “Never Understand”

Sudan Archives, “Selfish Soul (ODESZA re-mix)”

Sudan Archives, “Nont For Sale”

Sudan Archives, Natural Brown Prom Queen

Latto, “Big Energy”

Coi Leray, “Players”

Vusi Mahlasela, Norman Zulu, and Jive Connection, Face to Face

Bob Dylan, “Murder Most Foul”

Bob Dylan, The Bootleg Series, vol. 9: The Witmark Demos, 1962-1964

Bob Dylan, Great White Wonder (bootleg)

Lightning Dust, Nostalgia Killer

Meg Baird, Furling

Mary Lattimore, Goodbye, Hotel Arkada

CFCF, You Can Live Forever (Original Motion Picture Score)

Audio: Podcasts

This American Life, “The Call”

This American Life,”Eight Fights”

The Ezra Klein Show, “A Revelatory Tour of Martin Luther King Jr’s Forgotten Teachings”

The Kids of Rutherford County (The New York Times/Serial Productions)

The Retrievals (Serial Productions)

The Coldest Case in Laramie (The New York Times/Serial Productions)

This American Life, “The Show of Delights”

The Ezra Klein Show, “What a Poetic Mind Can Teach Us How to Live”

Rumble Strip, “Finn and the Bell”

The Daily

Moving Images

Anatomy of a Fall (2023), dir. Triet

The Red Angel (1966), dir. Masumara—Thank you to Cinéma Moderne for this one!

Saint Omer (2022), dir. Diop

Tori et Lokita (2022), dir. Dardenne Bros.

Le Pupille (2022), dir. Rohrwacher

Geographies of Solitude (2022), dir. Mills

Women Talking (2022), dir. Polley

The Pigeon Tunnel (2023), dir. Morris

Showing Up (2023), dir. Reichardt

Killers of the Flower Moon (2023), dir. Scorsese

Oppenheimer (2023), dir. Nolan

Stop Making Sense 4K (2023/1984), dir. Demme

May December (2023), dir. Haynes

Reality (2023), dir. Satter

Blackberry (2023), dir. Johnson

Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret (2023), dir. Fremon Craig

Narcos: Mexico, seasons 1-3

The Crown, seasons 5 and 6

Print

David Grann, Killers of the Flower Moon: The Osage Murders and the Birth of the FBI

Noah Gallagher Shannon, “The Genius Behind Hollywood’s Most Indelible Sets,” The New York Times

Greil Marcus, Folk Music: A Bob Dylan Biography in Seven Songs

Peniel E. Joseph, The Sword and the Shield: The Revolutionary Lives of Malcolm X and Martin Luther King

Martin Luther King, Jr., The Trumpet of Conscience

Doreen St. Felix, “How Sudan Archives Became the Violin’s Domme,” The New Yorker

Rebecca Solnit, Orwell’s Roses

Nastassja Martin, In the Eye of the Wild

Rachel Corbett, “The Inheritance Case That Could Unravel an Art Dynasty,” The New York Times

Robert MacFarlane, Landmarks

Josiah Thompson, Six Seconds in Dallas

Josiah Thompson, Last Second in Dallas

Robert Kolker, “The Botched Hunt for the Gilgo Beach Killer,” The New York Times

John Branch, “Ghosts on the Glacier,” The New York Times

Michelle Sterling, Camp Zero

Maggie Nelson, On Freedom: Four Songs of Care and Constraint

Questlove, Music is History

Jon Mooallem, “Michael Stipe is Writing His Next Act. Slowly.,” The New York Times

Florian Gadsby, By My Hands

Jody Williams and Rita Sodi, Via Carota: A Celebration of Seasonal Cooking

Bricia Lopez, Asada: The Art of Mexican-Style Grilling

Natasha Pickowicz, More Than Cake: 100 Baking Recipes Built for Pleasure and Community

Hettie McKinnon, To Asia, With Love

Hettie Lui McKinnon, Tenderheart

Rick Easton w/ Melissa McCart, Bread and How to Eat It

Irina Georgescu, Tava: Eastern European Baking and Desserts from Romania & Beyond

Food & Drink

Ernesto’s, NYC

Bread and Salt, Jersey City, NJ

Vin Mon Lapin, Montreal

Etna Pastificio, Montreal

Carlota Boulangerie, Montreal

Kitano Shokudo, Montreal

Son & Seigle Boulangerie, Montreal

Eventide, Portland, ME

The Honey Paw, Portland, ME

Famiglia Baldassare, Toronto

Pasquale Brothers, Etobicoke, ON

Casavant, Montreal

Alma, Toronto

Tapisserie, Paris (flan!)

Parcelles, Paris

Mokonuts, Paris

Bar Cravan, Paris

summer strawberries

Canal House Station, Milford, NJ

Kitty’s, Hudson, NY

Quinine's Good Food, Hudson, NY

Churchtown Dairy, Hudson, NY

Oaxaca Fest, Calais, VT

Poppy Café, Burlington, VT

San Fu, Montreal

ongoing experiments in homemade pasta shapes of all kinds

Bonci panbriacone

Tandem Coffee Roasters & Bakery, Portland, ME

Island Oysters, Toronto

OXO Cold Brew Coffee Maker

Lawson’s Finest Liquids, Waitsfield, VT, including Lawson’s Scragarita

AEB Spanish-themed Holiday Extravaganza

Miscellaneous

A.THERIEN, Cairo, NY

S.W. Welch, Montreal [R.I.P.]

Rabelais Books

Musée de la chasse et de la nature, Paris

The Monkey’s Paw, Toronto

Heath Ceramics

Baba Yaga, Littleton, NH

Stanley Swain, 10-year-old artist

“Leonard Cohen: Everybody Knows,” Art Gallery of Ontario, Toronto

Pinhole Camera Workshop, Niagara Artists Centre, St. Catharines, ON

YMC sweaters

Yosukata carbon steel woks

Terry Fox Run 2023, High Park, Toronto, ON

R.I.P.

Sinead O’Connor

Daniel Ellsberg

Tina Turner

André Braugher

Rodriguez

Tom Verlaine

Robbie Robertson

David Crosby

Adolfo Kaminsky

Michael Balga

and thousands of other innocents

CEASE FIRE NOW

aj

Out of the Archives: "One Great Dish" (2013)

A quarter of the way through David Tanis' new cookbook, One Good Dish:  The Pleasures of a Simple Meal, he features a dish that's somewhat deceivingly called "Radishes à la crème."  Recipes that include the phrase "...à la crème" tend to be on the rich side.  They also tend to be served warm.  This dish, however, is neither--instead, it's cool, fresh, and light, and yet perfect for late fall and early winter.

"Radishes à la crème" is a remarkable salad--one of those rare dishes that far exceeds the sum of its parts--but Tanis is awfully humble when it comes to introducing it.  He writes:  "Only four ingredients--radishes, salt, pepper, and crème fraîche--yet they make an extremely tasty raw vegetable first course."

He must have felt a little stronger about this recipe than he's letting on here.  He must have been aware of both its surprisingly wonderful flavours and its strong visual appeal.  He must have realized that, in many ways, this was a dish that summed up the vision (and the genius) behind One Good Dish.  He must have known that this is not just one good dish, it's one great dish.  After all, "Radishes à la crème" is granted pride of place on the cookbook's cover

fig. a: please judge this book by its cover

and it's also afforded a two-page photographic spread (as opposed to just a single photograph) on the inside.

fig. b: inside scoop

And he was right to do so.  It's a stunner.  No matter how much you might like radishes and crème fraîche, you can't possibly imagine that they could possibly taste this great together.  And if you're not really a fan of either, this recipe will make you a believer.

Now would be a perfect time to make "Radishes à la crème."  While so many other fall vegetables have already disappeared, you can still find nice radishes.  And with holiday meals often on the heavy side, this recipe provides a quick and easy way to lighten things up.  Plus, it looks so pretty.  And if you choose the right radishes, they even resemble snowflakes a little (crossed with peppermint candies, perhaps).

fig. c: perfect for the holidays

Use the freshest, tastiest, most beautiful radishes you can find.  Use a nice crème fraîche, too.  If you don't make your own, Liberté brand, here in Quebec, makes a very good commercial version.

Don't skimp on the salt or pepper, either.  This recipe only calls four ingredients, after all, and it costs virtually nothing to make.  Use a nice sea salt, like Maldon salt, and grind the best black pepper you can find over your salad right before serving.

Radishes à la crème 

1/2 pound radishes (red, black, white, watermelon, or even daikon)
sea salt
1/4 cup crème fraîche, or a little more, if you like
a few drops of milk (optional)
freshly ground black pepper 

Use a very sharp knife or, even better, a mandoline, to slice the radishes as thinly and uniformly as possible.  Lay them out on a large plate or in a bowl.  Sprinkle sea salt over top.  Garnish with a whole radish or two, if you like. 

If your crème fraîche is thick, stir it vigorously with a spoon for about a minute to lighten it up, or thin it with a few drops of milk.  Spoon it generously over the sliced radishes.  You can either dollop the crème fraîche in the center of the arrangement, or drizzle it all over the radishes.  Finish dressing the salad by grinding black pepper over top according to your taste. 

Serves 4. 

Optional embellishments: 

1 tbsp fruity olive oil, drizzled over top 

spicy radish sprouts 

chopped chives  

(We haven't tried any of these variations yet, but they all sound great.) 

This salad is quite simply our favourite dish right now.  We literally can't get enough of it.  We'll finish off a plate of "Radishes à la crème" and immediately start talking about the next batch we're going to make.

But there's much, much more to One Good Dish than just "Radishes à la crème."  In fact, when Tanis was in town to launch his book at Appetite for Books earlier this fall, he didn't even prepare this recipe.  Instead, with the help of Jonathan Cheung, the store's owner, he presented a classic warm lentil salad à la française, some simple cucumber pickles, and a pumpkin seed brittle, all straight out of the book.  I'm not sure he realized it at the time, but this trio was also ideal for a climate like Montreal's--all three were recipes that we could easily prepare even in deepest winter (given we can find some hydroponic cukes).

Finally, in addition to lovely salads, dips and spreads, soups and stews (meals you can eat with only a spoon), dishes that should ideally be made in a hot cast-iron pan, simple desserts, and so on, One Good Dish also comes with a glowing recommendation from none other than Yotam Ottolenghi.  Will this become the next Plenty?  I'm not sure, but One Good Dish is definitely one of our top picks of the year.

aj

p.s. For more on David Tanis and the WWDD lifestyle, check out this post on Tanis's pho bo, this one on his New Mexico-style green chile stew, or this early one on his Swiss chard gratin (a variation on which also appears in One Good Dish).

Out of the Archives: "Toasts & Roasts" (2013)

This post documented our 2013 holiday bash, which, as you will read below, did NOT take place at AEB HQ. It had to be moved at the last minute due to an unexpected crisis. Luckily, a dear friend stepped in to help us out. We changed the location and sent out revised invites, and the party ended up being a hit. (TY, RD! I’m still blown away by your generosity.) Anyway, it’s a nice story and it contains a great go-to recipe: Off-Oven Roast Beef. That recipe is the reason we decided to revisit this post. It will be the centrepiece of our Christmas Eve dinner this year. Can’t wait! It always works like a charm!

fig. a: holidaze 2013

We hold these truths to be self-evident:

1.  The holiday season is upon us.

2.  Good God, there's nothing like a perfectly seasoned, perfectly rosé slab of roast beef--preferably one that's then sliced extra-thin, and served with horseradish.*

Okay.  Yes, the holidays are here.  And that means it was time for our annual "...an endless banquet" Christmas spectacular.

fig. b: all aboard!

But, the thing is, sometimes LIFE confronts you with an unexpected storm, and, suddenly, you have to chart a new course.

That's kind of what happened this year.  Everything's fine now, there's no need to worry, but something came up that forced us to make a last-minute adjustment.  What it meant was that the Christmas spectacular didn't actually take place at our place this year.  Consequently, we toned things down a bit, scaled things back, and got "back to the basics."

The holiday bash that resulted might not have been quite as wide open as it had been in the past, it might not have been quite as extravagant, but it was still pretty spectacular, and it was much more of a collaborative effort--and all the better for it.  For all these things, we owe our undying gratitude to our hostess.  (TY, RD!)  Such a lovely apartment, such a wonderful atmosphere, such a great time!!

fig. c: Shamrock!

Originally, we'd come up with this vague Lake Champlain "holiday steamship" theme.  The "point of departure" was meant to be our apartment.  I guess we ended up docking just a little ways up the coast.  And we exchanged the S.S. Champlain for the S.S. Shamrock.

Did I mention that there was a pretty significant snowstorm the day of the party?  No big deal.  We're Montrealers, we know how to deal with such situations.

Anyway, "back to basics" meant simpler preparations.  It also meant fewer last-minute preparations.  But it was still pretty plentiful.  The spread:

fig. d: rye!

1 spiral-cut, cob-smoked, maple-glazed Vermont ham with mostarda cherries
1 roast beef with horseradish
nordic shrimp salad
smoked trout & smoked sturgeon platter with cream cheese
crudités & herb dip
baked artichoke dip & corn chips
cheese platter (featuring 1 Jasper Hill Moses Sleeper + 1 Shelburne Farms cloth-bound cheddar)
freshly baked Danish rye & corn rye loaves 

Spanish clementines
gingerbread cookies
festive fudge 

AEB rum punch
aged egg nog

fig. e: festive fudge!

And, yes, getting back to that point #2:  a perfectly executed roast beef is a thing of beauty.  It also seemed like just the kind of thing that would have been served in the dining room of an elegant steamship back in the day.

We discovered a method for a simple roast beef that we really love--and that's proven to be foolproof--earlier this year in the pages of The New York Times.  The recipe accompanied an article on Louisville's enigmatic Henry Bain sauce.  Though the sauce was designed to be served as a condiment with everything from steaks to game, it's a stone-cold natural with roast beef.  In fact, Sam Sifton claimed that this may be the sauce's "highest use" in his article, so he turned to Tyler Kord, the sandwich master at New York's No. 7 Sub, for a killer roast beef recipe to go along with his recipe for Henry Bain.  And that's exactly what he got.  I liked the recipe for Henry Bain--it was definitely unlike anything I'd ever tasted before, and, it's true, it made for a tasty accompaniment--but I absolutely loved the recipe for that roast beef.

As many of your probably know already, getting perfect results with roast beef can be a little tricky.  Nobody likes a roast that's extremely undercooked, and overcooking a roast is all too easy.  This recipe relies primarily on ambient heat to gently warm the roast all the way to its centre, resulting in that ideal rosy hue, not to mention an extremely savoury crust, optimal juiciness, and some outrageous pan juices.

I've been impressed with Kord's recipe since the first time I tried it, but recently I made an adjustment to it that's even more to my liking:  I added ground caraway seeds to its spicy-garlicky rub, giving it a finish that was very much in tune with the nordic characteristics of our Christmas party spread.

Off-Oven Roast Beef  

1 beef roast, like top, eye or bottom round, approximately 3 lbs
1 tbsp kosher salt
1 tbsp freshly ground black pepper
1/2 tbsp freshly ground caraway seeds
3 cloves garlic, peeled and minced
1 tbsp olive oil
red pepper flakes to taste

prepared horseradish or horseradish cream

Remove the roast from the refrigerator.  

fig. f: raw!

In a small bowl, mix together the salt, pepper, caraway seeds, garlic, olive oil and red pepper flakes to create a paste.  Rub this all over the roast.  

fig. g: rubbed!

Place the roast in a cast-iron skillet or roasting pan, fat side up, and allow the roast to come to room temperature, about 1 to 2 hours.

About 15 minutes before you want to begin roasting, preheat your oven to 500º F.

Place the roast in the oven.  Cook, undisturbed, for 5 minutes per pound.  [I tend to go a little over this recommendation:  e.g. 15 minutes for a 2.6-lb roast, and 30 minutes for 5.25-lb roast.]

Turn off the oven.  Do not open the oven door.  Leave roast to continue cooking, completely undisturbed, for two hours.

After the two hours is up, remove the roast from the oven.  Slice as thinly as possible.  

fig. h: roasted!

Serve with pan juices and prepared horseradish.  Or use to make whatever your preferred kind of roast beef sandwich is. 

[recipe based very closely on Tyler Kord's Off-Oven Roast Beef recipe, as featured in The New York Times, January 17, 2013] 

Just how good is this roast beef?  Well, the photos above are of the 2 3/4-lb roast we madethe day afterwe made a 5 1/2-lb roast for our party--a 5 1/2-lb roast that completely disappeared (as tasty things often do).  You see, the next day we found ourselves still having major roast beef cravings, so I went out and picked up another roast and we whipped up another batch--this one served with roasted broccoli and a mixed greens salad.  And horseradish, of course.

The point is:  this recipe is a keeper any time of year, but it's great for the holidays.  Great for a party spread. Great for pleasing a crowd.  Great for making sandwiches.

Happy holidaze 2013!  Eat well!  Drink well!  Be well!

aj

*Actually, roast beef's a pretty lovely thing to serve with radishes à la crème, too.  In fact, the two combined would make for a pretty amazing open-faced roast beef sandwich.  Just a thought...

Out of the Archives: "Last-minute, High-temperature Thanksgiving, or Thank you, Mr. Steingarten" (2007)

Fig. a: High-Temperature Turkey, 2023 Edition

This post first appeared in November 2007, right before American Thanksgiving, in advance of the annual expats’ Thanksgiving dinner we held in Montreal for years. Jeffrey Steingarten’s High-Temperature Turkey (which he learned from Barbara Kafka) is still the method we turn to virtually every time we roast a turkey. It has never let us down.

Do you love turkey dinners as much as we do? Are you unfamiliar with the fabled High-Temperature Turkey? Read on!

—————

For those about to roast...

You know the nightmare. It goes something like this: It's mid-afternoon on an autumn weekday and for some strange reason you have the day off. You've been going about your happy-go-lucky business, doing all sorts of pleasant autumnal things, and generally enjoying yourself when suddenly you're seized with panic. Your eyes zoom in on your watch and it reads 3:00 PM. You whip your head around to take a look at the calendar that's just materialized on a wall next to you, check today's date, and, sure enough, it reads THANKSGIVING DAY. Only then do you suddenly remember that this year you happened to send out invitations for a Thanksgiving dinner at your place and in a matter of hours 12 hungry people will be turning up on your doorstep fully expecting a big, beautiful roast turkey dinner with all the fixings. You race to your bookshelf and grab a book entitled Cookbook, flip it open to the "Roast Turkey" recipe and, you guessed it, the recipe reads: "Preheat your oven to 325º... Roast your turkey 12-15 minutes per pound..." Not only do you not have the time to roast that 24-lb Butterball, you haven't even bought it yet! You look around you and somehow you've been transported to some barren post-industrial wasteland. You tilt your head back, stare deep into the sky, and yell "NO!!" at top volume. You wake up in a cold sweat.

Okay, maybe your particular version of this nightmare isn't quite as dramatic as this, but you get the point. Well, we're here to tell you that we know the feeling and there's hope.

Flashback a little over a month ago to October 8th, a.k.a. Canadian Thanksgiving 2007. As many of you know, we're big on Thanksgiving here at "...an endless banquet." So much so that we happily celebrate Thanksgiving (at least) twice every year. This year, however, Canadian Thanksgiving caught us a little off-guard. For some reason we hadn't gone through the usual 2-weeks' worth of deliberations concerning menu, ingredients, and approach. In fact, we were caught so off-guard that it was literally 3:00 pm when Michelle decided that we absolutely, positively could not let Canadian Thanksgiving slip by without a traditional feast. She got on the horn, rounded up a few last-minute guests, and then and only then did she get on her bike and head towards the market. By 4:30 pm she was back at home with a lovely 15-pound turkey in tow. By 5:00 pm the turkey was in the oven. And by 7:00 pm the turkey was out of the oven, resting, just minutes from getting carved and served. Our guests arrived, we sat them down and served them drinks, and by 7:30 pm we were digging in to one of the very best turkey dinners in either of our personal histories. Yes, you read that correctly: the turkey was ready in two hours (!) and it was delicious.

No trickery was used, no special tools were required, and, no, we didn't microwave our turkey. We used a regular turkey and a regular oven. We did, however, rely on some high-powered expertise. You see, it was Barbara Kafka's High-Temperature Turkey recipe* as featured in Jeffrey Steingarten's The Man Who Ate Everything, And Other Gastronomic Feats, Disputes, and Pleasurable Pursuits that allowed Michelle and I to be so remarkably cavalier about our Thanksgiving dinner.** The low-down: you get yourself a 12 to 15-lb turkey (any bigger and it'll take up too much room in your oven and get scorched), you crank up your oven to its highest setting (550º), and you never baste it. That's right: you don't baste your turkey either. All you have to do is jiggle every now and again. Sounds insane, we know, but it works. We expected crazy amounts of smoke and frankly we were willing to pay that price in order to have our turkey fully roasted and ready to go in two hours, but somehow our kitchen remained perfectly smoke-free and guest-ready throughout. Nothing short of miraculous.

High-Temperature Turkey

one 15-pound *** turkey at room temperature
salt and pepper
2 onions, halved

Preheat the oven to its highest setting.**** Place the turkey in a large roasting pan, salt and pepper the interior cavity and stuff the onions inside. Place the turkey in the oven and bake for 15 min. Remove the turkey from the oven, and with a wooden spoon or some tongs jiggle the turkey loose from the bottom of the pan. Return the turkey to the oven and repeat this jiggling every 20 min. A 15-pound bird will take just under 2 hours.***** (Ours took 1 hour 50 min.) You want the thigh meat to be between 175 and 180°F. If you have a smaller oven, you may have to cover the bird with a piece of aluminum foil in the late stages of the high-temperature roasting in order to protect it from getting overly blackened, but we didn't. Let the turkey rest at least 10 min. before carving it. The skin will be an amazing auburn colour and it will crackle as you carve it. Inside, the meat will be as juicy as you've ever seen, white and dark alike. Unbelievable. Miraculous even. Plus, you'll find a goodly amount of juices at the bottome of the roasting pan which you can use to make a fittingly phenomenal gravy.

Feeds four ravenous, Thanksgiving-crazed people, and provides them with plenty of mind-blowingly delicious leftovers.

Happy American Thanksgiving!

am/km

* No, Smartypants, this isn't a recipe for giving a turkey a fever.

** Despite its origins, this recipe is the opposite of Kafkaesque. It is as simple and straightforward as they come.

*** Again, turkeys that are any bigger will not work for this method. If you need more turkey, cook two smaller birds.

**** Note that this high temperature will make baking side dishes impossible alongside the turkey. I made the stuffing before, covered it with foil and baked it 30 min. Once the turkey was done, I lowered the oven temperature and returned the stuffing to the oven until it was hot, baking it uncovered for the last few minutes to crisp the top.

***** Here are cooking times for turkeys of other sizes: 9-10 lbs.=1 hour 15 min., 12 lbs.=1 hour 20 min., 20 lbs.=about 3 hrs.

—————

Speaking of miracles. The last time we used the High-Temperature Turkey method was just this past Sunday, for Canadian Thanksgiving 2023. When we’d pulled the turkey out of the oven, and checked its internal temperature (perfect!), we stepped outside onto the balcony of our Montreal apartment, and this is what we saw:

Fig. b: Thank you, Mr. Steingarten!

We took this to be a good omen. We hauled our 12-lb turkey, our deluxe stuffing, and our roasted carrot dish up to our friends’ place in Little Italy and gave thanks.

aj

Recent menu

fig. a: the list

Would you attend this dinner party?

Still on the fence? I should add that this menu also included a batch of Michelle’s Simply Beautiful Plum Cake, served “straight up” or à la mode.

aj

Plum Dandy

Please, don’t forget about Michelle’s Simply Beautiful Plum Cake. It’s brilliant. I mean that.

fig. a: simply beautiful

fig. b: a simple slice of cake

I mean, just look at that. It’s great with coffee and tea, too.

fig. c: part of this complete meal

If you’re lucky enough to still have plums available where you live, don’t hesitate. Find the finest plums you can get your hands on,

fig. d: fine specimens

like these beauties I found at a Polish grocer.

If you can’t find plums, use the best, juiciest prunes you can find, like the justifiably famous pruneaux d’Agen.

If you’re not into prunes, make it with apples.

All I know is that this is a cake that’s capable of generating powerful emotions. When I brought a plum cake to work a couple of weeks ago, one of my T.A.s sent me the following stream-of-consciousness message afterwards: “Please pardon the impropriety of this response. F*** me that was amazing you did an amazing job I loved it I got the last piece way to go that was freaking amazing.”

You’ve been warned.

aj

San Fu, c'est fou!

Fig. a: true street food

The best Montreal street food find we’ve made in recent history occurred quite unexpectedly (as the best street food experiences usually do) yesterday.

We were in Cartierville to drop off a wedding cake and we found ourselves in a mysterious little strip mall we’d never visited before. Why “mysterious”? Well, some businesses had evocative names and signs, like Étoile d’Orion, a West African quincaillerie, while other businesses were entirely without names or signs, like the popular hookah bar that was blaring Arab hip-hop through its open door into the parking lot where a makeshift terrasse had been set up for its habitués.

Michelle was in the restaurant/reception hall putting the finishing touches on her latest matrimonial marvel, so I took it upon myself to conduct a close survey of the entire mall, including its centrepiece: a large Asian superstore called C & T that was clearly an important hub for the local community (Asian, African, Middle Eastern, Haitian, Latino, and otherwise). C & T was amazing, of course—just as good as I was hoping for—but what really caught my eye was the sign advertising a “sandwich chinoise” at San Fu, a nondescript little take-out eatery a couple of doors away. I walked in to inquire about this Chinese sandwich, but was instantly distracted by the sight of one of San Fu’s proprietors making a “crêpe chinoise” to order on a griddle. The dish in question was the Jian Bing you see in the photo above, and if you’ve never had one, it’s essentially a Chinese dosa that’s made with a mung dal-based batter. At San Fu two eggs are cracked inside and spread thinly over the surface of the crêpe, then scallions and black sesame seeds are added. Then it gets flipped so the eggy side is down against the griddle and chilli paste is spread on the other side (ask for “extra spicy”—the chilli paste is delicious!), a couple of crackers are placed in the centre and covered with iceberg lettuce, before fresh cilantro and pickles complete the picture. Finally, it is folded over a couple of times (like a dosa), before it is chopped in two and placed into two individual bags. We were told to eat the crêpe while it was hot, to which we replied, “no problem!” We went straight outside and promptly devoured our two halves, then marched right back in to tell San Fu just how good their Jian Bing was. It truly was outstanding!

30 minutes later, after a shopping excursion to C & T, we went straight back to San Fu for a second helping of Jian Bing. We couldn’t resist. Plus, Michelle wanted to get some documentation of the process that went into making this delicacy.

The owners were thrilled that we’d come back for seconds, they were flattered Michelle wanted to take some photos, and the second time around was just as good as the first. Like I said: San Fu, c’est fou!

San Fu, 12206 blvd. Laurentien, Montreal, QC

aj

Out of the Archives: "Uppuma: it's what's for breakfast." (updated edition)

fig. a: uppuma: that was then

This post first appeared in 2009. The photograph above is how the dish in question—uppuma—was pictured at the time, in the pre-Instagram era.

This post has been updated. If you would like to see the original, you can find it here.

I first discovered uppuma sometime way back in the 1990s through my friend Carolyn. She'd gotten way deep into vegetarian Indian cuisine. Many of us admired Yamuna Devi's Lord Krishna's Cuisine: The Art of Vegetarian Indian Cuisine (1987) back then, but I'm pretty sure Carolyn was the only person I knew who owned it. And I'm positive she was the only one I knew who had the guts to actually use Yamuna Devi's Lord Krishna's Cuisine. I, on the other hand, distinctly remember looking at those long lists of ingredients and getting totally overwhelmed. I made Devi's carrot pickle once, but that was as deep as I ever got into her 800+ page tome.

Anyway, I also remember the first time I had uppuma for breakfast. Carolyn and I were visiting her parents at the beach, and she just whipped it up one morning. Just like that. I wasn't 100% sure what it was--I just knew it was South Indian and that it involved a long list of ingredients--but it was a revelation. As much as I loved spicy food at the time, I still had trouble coming to terms with spicy breakfasts--huevos rancheros and New Mexican chile verde breakfasts were about as far as I was willing to roam. Spicy/sweet breakfasts that were egg-free were the height of exotica to me.

The sad thing is, I never watched Carolyn's prep closely enough to figure out how uppuma was made, and therefore it never became a part of my repertoire. I'd think about those uppuma breakfasts longingly from time to time, but it never really went much farther than that. And within a few years I'd lost touch with Carolyn and had totally forgotten the name of her oh-so-exotic South Indian breakfast specialty.

Skip ahead about a decade. Michelle and I had just picked up a copy of Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid's Mangoes & Curry Leaves (2005). The first time I leafed through it I knew--I just knew--I'd find the recipe I'd been looking for.

fig. b: Alford & Duguid’s Mangoes & Curry Leaves

Sure enough, there it was on pages 92-3--"Semolina Uppuma"*--with a nice little anecdote about Mr. Alford's affection for the dish, and the daily ritual he had while in Kerala: a swim in the ocean, a walk, and uppuma and coffee every day for breakfast.

Since getting reacquainted with uppuma,** it's become one of my favourite breakfasts, especially at this time of year—late spring—when the choice mangoes start arriving from India. There’s this magical period of time—usually no more than 4 weeks—when Alphonso and Kesar mangoes are flown in to Eastern Canada. In Montreal, there’s this whole mango underground that involves making arrangements with Indian and Sri Lankan grocers. If you get to be a part of the network, you’ll sometimes get calls late at night alerting you to the fact that a shipment has just arrived. In Ontario, you can sometimes find small cases of six mangoes at your local supermarket, especially if it’s a chain like FreshCo that frequently caters to recent immigrants. Having moved to Ontario from Montreal, the first time we did we were shocked to find what are surely among the world’s best mangoes just sitting there on display in plain sight—no waiting lists or late-night telephone assignations necessary. Anyway, I love uppuma at any time of year, but it’s a particular favourite if I can dress it with fresh Alphonso or Kesar mangoes—an already bewitching dish becomes positively intoxicating. Also, truth be told, it's not just for breakfast anymore. Uppuma can often tilt in a more savoury direction. Carolyn was fond of putting cabbage in one of her versions back in the day. I always make it this exact way—savoury/sweet and fruit-forward—but I’ve been known to have uppuma for brunch, lunch, and dinner, too—and I'm quite sure I'm not the only one.

Don’t be intimidated by the list of ingredients. Many of them are toppings, and therefore optional, and if you have the basics, uppuma is actually very easy to make. The primary ingredient, as Alford & Duguid suggest, is semolina, the same substance that's the basis of Cream of Wheat. As much as I love Cream of Wheat, uppuma is something altogether different. For one thing, you start off by dry roasting the semolina. Then you transform it into the most heady concoction of spicy and sweet. You'll never look at hot cereal the same way again. In fact, you should be forewarned: uppuma might very well change your life.

fig. c: uppuma: before

fig. d: uppuma: after (a.k.a., all-dressed)

Semolina Uppuma

2 cups coarse semolina flour (if you live in Montreal, look for "semolina #2" in local stores)
3-4 tbsp vegetable oil
1 tbsp butter or ghee (if you choose to omit this, use the extra tbsp vegetable oil listed above)
1 tsp black mustard seeds
10 roasted and lightly salted jumbo cashews, whole or coarsely chopped [Alford & Duguid’s original recipe calls for unsalted cashews, but I prefer the lightly salted, beautifully roasted ones I get from my local nut vendor]
2 dried red chilies, stemmed and coarsely chopped
pinch of asafoetida powder (optional, but highly recommended)
1 tbsp minced ginger
2-3 green chiles, such as cayenne or even jalapeño
3 cups hot water
1 tsp salt, or to taste

suggested accompaniments:
1 lime, cut into wedges
plain yogurt
1 ripe mango, preferably an Alphonso or Kesar mango from India
1 ripe banana
handful of cashews, lightly fried in a little butter, ghee, or oil until golden
candied dates and their syrup
honey

Place a skillet, preferably a wide and heavy one, over medium-high heat and add the semolina. Dry roast the semolina, stirring it frequently with a wooden spatula or spoon to prevent burning. The grains at the center, underneath, will start to turn brown first, even when it might seem as though nothing is happening yet, so every minute or so, run your spatula under the center and move the golden grains to the side to let the others take their place and become golden. After 2-3 minutes, lower the heat to medium, and continue to cook for another 4 minutes or so, until all the semolina grains are lightly touched with gold. Pour into a bowl and set aside.

Place a wide heavy pot over high heat and add the oil with the ghee or butter (if using). When the oil is hot, add the mustard seeds. Once they sputter, lower the heat to medium, add the cashews, dried chilies, and asafoetida and stir-fry briefly. Add the ginger and green chilies and stir-fry briefly, then add 3 cups of hot water.

Bring to a boil, add the salt, then add the semolina slowly in a trickle. Keep stirring with a wooden spoon as you add the grain to get it all properly mixed and to prevent lumps from forming, just as you would with porridge or polenta. Continue stirring and turning for another minute to break up lumps and moisten all the semolina. It will absorb the water quickly and if the mixture seems dry (if there are lumps of semolina that have not been fully moistened), add a little more hot water and stir. The semolina should be tender and all the water should be absorbed. Remove from heat and serve with the accompaniments of your choosing.

Our favorite combo is freshly squeezed lime juice, yogurt, fresh mango, toasted cashews, a candied date, and some of the candied date syrup.

Note: traditional uppuma recipes call for a smidgen of urad dal (Alford and Duguid's calls for 2 teaspoons), as well as some curry leaves, both of which can be hard to find if you don't live near any South Asian specialty food stores. We've found that our uppuma is still tremendously satisfying without them.

[based very closely on a recipe from Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid's Mangoes and Curry Leaves]

aj

*Why "semolina uppuma"? Well, as Alford explains "uppuma" is also a term for a method of cooking involving "flavored oil and hot water."

**I've also gotten reacquainted with Carolyn, I'm happy to report, thanks to the miracle of social media.

Listomania, 2022 Edition

Wow. 2022. That was really something. When in doubt (and there were many, many occasions to do so), believe in love. Please. Hell, believe in unicorns and pegasi if you have to. Whatever you do, don’t stop believing in art and culture.

Here are some of the things that helped us get through.

Audio:  Song

Tears for Fears, “Mad World”

Destroyer, Labyrinthitis + Destroyer @ The Phoenix, Toronto, ON, May 10, 2022

Sample track #1:  “Tintoretto, It’s For You”

Sample track #2: “June”

Weyes Blood, And in the Darkness, Hearts Aglow

Sample track: “Twin Flame”

Rosalía, Motomami +

Sample track #1: “La Fama”

Sample track #2: “Candy (Remix)”

The Staple Singers, Freedom Highway

Mavis Staples, Only For the Lonely

Sample track:  “What Happened to the Real Me”

The Staples Jr. Singers, When Do We Get Paid

Florist, Florist

Jana Horn, Optimism

Sample track: “Jordan”

Yendry, “YA”

Nilüfer Yanya, “Midnight Sun”

Nick Cave + Warren Ellis, CARNAGE World Tour, Place des arts, Montreal, QC, April 2, 2022

Kurt Vile, “Run, Run, Run”

Can, “Vitamin C”

Indigo Sparke, Hysteria

Sample track: “Why Do You Lie”

Marlena Shaw, The Spice of Life

V/A, Saturno 2000:  La Rebajada de los Sonideros, 1962-1983

Khruangbin + Leon Bridges, Texas Moon EP

Vieux Farka Touré + Khruangbin, Ali

Graham Nash, Songs for Beginners

Etran de l’Aïr, Agadez

Cate le Bon, Pompeii

Orchestre Massako, Orchestre Massako (Limited Dance Edition)

Sample track: “Boungoumoune”

Sudan Archives, “Home Maker”

Lizzo, “About Damn Time”

Fer Sher, Maison des Artistes, Montreal, August 14, 2022 + “Elkin (Demo)”

Beyoncé, “Break My Soul”

Lucinda Williams, “Unsuffer Me”

Dry Cleaning, Stumpwork

Sample track: “Conservative Hell”

Billie Eilish, “TV”

Caetano Veloso, “Cucurrucucu Paloma”

Orchestra Baobab, “Mariama”

Super Mama Djombo, “Alma”

Jimmy Scott, “Nothing Compares 2 U”

Audio:  Podcasts

We Were Three

The Trojan Horse Affair

Dead End:  A New Jersey Political Murder Mystery

Decoder Ring: “The Most Famous Poet No One Remembers: Searching for Rod McKuen”

Decoder Ring: “The First Alien Abductees”

The Ezra Klein Show:  “This Conversation Will Change How You Think About Trauma”

This American Life:  “Mapmaker, Mapmaker, Make Me a Map”

This American Life:  “Watching the Watchers”

This American Life: “Name. Age. Detail.”

This American Life: “The Pink House At the Center of the World”

This American Life: “A Couple Walks Into a House” and “A City Walks Into an Investigation”

The Daily

Moving Images

Aftersun (2022), dir. Wells

All the Beauty and the Bloodshed (2022), dir. Poitras

The Eternal Daughter (2022), dir. Hogg

The Souvenir, Part 2 (2021), dir. Hogg

Licorice Pizza (2021), dir. Anderson

Inherent Vice (2014), dir. Anderson

Petite Maman (2021), dir. Sciamma

Fire of Love (2022), dir. Dosa

All That Breathes (2022), dir. Sen

Decision to Leave (2022), dir. Park

Parallel Mothers (2021), dir. Almodóvar

La Panthère des neiges (2021), dir. Amiguet et Munier

Flee (2021), dir. Rasmussen

The Worst Person in the World (2021), dir. Trier

Drive My Car (2021), dir. Hamaguchi

Incident at Oglala (1992), dir. Apted

Belfast, Maine (1999), dir. Wiseman

At Berkeley (2013), dir. Wiseman

In Jackson Heights (2015), dir. Wiseman

Ex Libris:  The New York Public Library (2017), dir. Wiseman

Monrovia, Indiana (2018), dir. Wiseman

She Said (2022), dir. Schrader

Urbanose (1972), dir. Régnier

An American Werewolf in London (1981), dir. Landis

Print

Don DeLillo, White Noise

Robert Macfarlane, Underland

Nick Cave, Stranger Than Kindness

Warren Ellis, Nina Simone’s Gum book signing, Librairie Résonance, Montreal, QC, April 4, 2022

Jennifer M. Volland and Chris Marino, eds., Edith Heath:  Philosophies

Lauren Elkin, No. 91/92:  A Diary of a Year on the Bus

Angela Davis, An Autobiography

C.L.R. James, The Black Jacobins:  Toussaint L’Ouverture and the San Domingo Revolution

Robert Darden, Nothing But Love in God’s Water, Vol. 1:  Black Sacred Music From the Civil War to the Civil Rights Movement

Robert Darden, Nothing But Love in God’s Water, Vol. 2:  Black Sacred Music from Sit-Ins to Resurrection City

Catherine Porter, Constant Méheut, Matt Apuzzo, and Selam Gebrekidan, The Ransom, “The Root of Haiti’s Misery:  Reparations to Enslavers,” The New York Times, May 20, 2022

Lazaro Gamio, Constant Méheut, Catherine Porter, Selam Gebrekidan, Allison McCann, and Matt Apuzzo, The Ransom, “Haiti’s Lost Billions,” The New York Times, May 20, 2022

Matt Apuzzo, Constant Méheut, Selam Gebrekidan, and Catherine Porter, The Ransom, “How a French Bank Captured Haiti,” The New York Times, May 20, 2022

Claudia Roden, The Food of Spain

Dan Richer with Katie Parla, The Joy of Pizza:  Everything You Need to Know

Strunk, White, and Kalman, The Elements of Style (illustrated)

Sight & Sound’s “The Greatest Films of All Time,” December 1, 2022

Laura Mulvey, “The Greatest Film of All Time: Jeanne Dielman, 23 quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles,” Sight & Sound, December 1, 2022

“Jeanne Dielman, Party-Crasher: Thoughts on the 2022 Edition of Sight & Sound’s ‘The Greatest Films of All Time’”

Food & Drink

Mister Jiu’s, San Francisco, CA

The Progress, San Francisco, CA

Chez Panisse Café, Berkeley, CA

Swan’s Market, Oakland, CA

La Guerrera’s

The Cook and Her Farmer

Tartine Manufactory, San Francisco, CA + Heath Ceramics, Sausalito/San Francisco, CA

Tart Vinegar, Brooklyn, NY

Pizzeria Ida, Burlington, VT

Bistro Otto, Montreal, QC

Spanish birthday fun packs



Kermit Lynch Wine Merchant, Berkeley, CA—50th Anniversary!

Ordinaire Wine, Oakland, CA

Bay Grape, Oakland, CA

Horn Barbecue, Oakland, CA

The Crown:  Royal Coffee Lab & Tasting Room, Oakland, CA

Tony’s, Marshall, CA

Hog Island Oyster Company, Marshall, CA

California apricots, in-season, in California



Paris, Paris, Toronto, ON

Tinc Set, Montreal, QC

Vin Mon Lapin, Montreal, QC for late-night Harry’s Bar-style pressed scallop sandwiches & bubbles!

Wills Beer, Montreal, QC (Instagram)

3001: A Cookie Odyssey, Gia, Montreal, QC, December 18, 2022—Michelle Marek + Natasha Pickowicz!



Fifth Quarter, Waitsfield, VT

Little Gordo, Burlington, VT

first saffron harvest, Milk House, Washington County, VT

Corn chowder with chanterelles



Miscellaneous

Edith Heath:  A Life in Clay, Oakland Museum of California, Oakland, CA

Stranger Than Kindness:  Nick Cave, The Exhibition, Galerie de la maison du festival, Montreal, QC

Warren Ellis Pure Exploitation Egg Cup

National Film Board of Canada Archives, Montreal, QC



Andy Goldsworthy tour, The Presidio, San Francisco, CA

I Am Here:  Home Movies and Everyday Masterpieces, Art Gallery of Ontario, Toronto, ON

Alexander Henderson—Art and Nature, McCord Museum, Montreal, QC

Ontario weddings 1: C & K!

Ontario weddings 2: C & D!

Umami Mart, Oakland, CA

Tail of the Yak, Berkeley, CA—50th Anniversary!

Bernal Cutlery, San Francisco, CA

Tea and Tie Dye, Nicasio, CA

De Stiil Booksellers, Montreal, QC

Lamoille Woodcraft, Hyde Park, VT

”Bear, bear, bear, bear, bear…”

R.I.P.

Domenico “Dom” DeMarco

Diana Kennedy

Christine McVie

Pharoah Sanders

Betty Davis

Mike Davis

Barbara Ehrenreich

Jean-Luc Godard

Monica Vitti

William Klein

Laura Wiebe

And all those lost in a senseless, disgusting, and illegal war against Ukraine.

FIN

aj

Out of the Archives: "Hungarian Kick" (2007)

This post first appeared in 2007. I guess that means it is celebrating its 15th anniversary. As you’ll see, it was prompted by the seasonal arrival of locally grown sweet and hot peppers of all kinds in Montreal’s markets—especially Jean-Talon. But there’s an unexpected soccer theme to it. I didn’t remember that aspect of this post, but its presence is somewhat ironic because the last time I made this dish was December 18, 2022, the day of the World Cup Final in Qatar.

This recipe has been a staple of our repertoire for at least fifteen years. It’s one of a handful of dishes that is guaranteed to drive Michelle crazy. You know, the kind of dish you literally can’t stop eating. This is one of those for her. It’s a dish she requests often. I prepared it for the night of December 18 because that was the day of Michelle’s 3001: A Cookie Odyssey/Christmas Market event, and that’s the way Michelle wanted to celebrate the occasion. She thought it would be a fitting way to close out the market’s Eastern European theme. She was right.

Did the idea to make Hungarian goulash this past week come from a recent re-viewing of R.W. Fassbinder's The Marriage of Maria Braun? Yes, the film integrates the utter hysteria that surrounded Germany's 3-2 victory over Hungary in the 1954 World Cup final seamlessly into its explosive finale, and, yes, I have been on a real Hungarian kick suddenly, making three Hungarian meals since watching Fassbinder's masterpiece of melodrama, but, c'mon... Truth is, the inspiration behind that goulash had a lot more to do with the current availability of peppers--fresh sweet and hot peppers from Jean-Talon Market, and dried peppers from Olives et Épices, also at the market. The dried peppers--whole Hungarian smoked hot peppers--we'd gotten a while back, and as soon as we gave them a whiff, we turned to each other, gave each other a couple of knowing looks, and uttered the word "goulash" in unison. The fresh peppers in question were Hungarian banana peppers and Hungarian sweet peppers from Birri. As soon as they came into season, I started thinking about all those pepper-heavy Eastern European dishes that I love, like Paprika Chicken, Slovak eggs, Bab Leves, and, yes, Hungarian goulash.

I turned to a recipe for gulyás from Saveur, where, unlike the dish that's come to be known as "Hungarian goulash" in North America, the consistency is more along the lines of a "soup that eats like a meal." The recipe seemed authentic and all--though it does include tomatoes, which some gulyás devotees strictly avoid--so I used it as a blueprint, but I made a few significant changes. First off, I was more in the mood for a stew than a soup (even one "that eats like a meal"), so I cut back on the broth and aimed for a thicker, more stew-like consistency, a somewhat authentic take on the bastardized North American version I grew up with (the kind that tends to get served in the presence of strolling violins). Secondly, inspired by the idea of those Hungarian cowpokes making their gulyásover an open fire, I decided to make an iittala casserole-bound version that could be cooked over an open fire, if you're the kind of ranch hand who takes Finnish designer cookware out on the range, or in our fireplace, if only we had one. Lastly, I left the potatoes out. And then I put them back in (you'll see what I'm talking about momentarily). But mostly I balked when it came to the potatoes. And I'm not 100% sure why. I told myself it was because I knew there was going to be enough to freeze, and sometimes potatoes don't freeze so well, but I never really found that line all that convincing.

So, this particular goulash might not win prizes for authenticity, but, as we all know, authenticity has its limits. The bottom line was that it was delicious--the cubed beef had turned to candy, and it had a deep, rich broth that was utterly irresistible (you know: the kind of dish that you just can't stop yourself from having one more bowl of, even when you're officially "full"). I was downright enthusiastic about my bowl. "This might just be the best goulash I've ever had," I remember thinking.* Then I went back and had three or four more helpings just to be sure. Michelle didn't have her bowl of goulash until she got off from work later that night and I assembled her late-night snack. Now, granted, she hadn't eaten in 12 hours, she'd just come back from a tough shift, and she was maybe just a little delirious, but she wasn't two or three heaping spoonfuls in before she turned to me, earnestly, and exclaimed, "This is my favorite meal ever." Like I said: she was a little delirious. But I knew what she was talking about. That pseudo-Hungarian goulash absolutely hit the spot. It's certainly well worth tracking down smoked hot Hungarian peppers and fresh Hungarian sweet and hot peppers for.

fig. a: Goulash with roasted potatoes

Goulash à la AEB (2022 version)

2 strips of thick-cut bacon
1-2 tbsp vegetable oil
2 yellow onions, peeled and chopped
2 1/2 lbs beef chuck, cut into 2" cubes
1 carrot, peeled, and coarsely chopped
1/2 tsp caraway seeds
3 cloves garlic
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 tbsp sweet high-quality Hungarian paprika
1 rounded teaspoon ground smoked Hungarian hot peppers (optional, although you could use a high-quality smoked Mexican chile in its place if those are more readily available--either way, this touch really gives the goulash depth, it also gives it an unexpected, well, kick)
4 cups beef stock, warm
1 medium tomato, peeled, seeded, and coarsely chopped (optional if you're one of those that believes that tomatoes have about as much place in a gulyás as they do in a chili)
3-4 fresh Hungarian sweet peppers
1-2 fresh Hungarian hot peppers

In a large Dutch oven, fry the bacon strips, rendering their fat. Remove the bacon, and dice the strips. Reserve. Add 1-2 tbsp vegetable oil, bringing your total amount of fat in your pot to 2 tbsp (or just over), and heat over medium heat. Brown the beef cubes on all sides, making sure to get a nice sear on them. Turn up the heat slightly if you need to in order to brown the meat properly. Remove the meat from the Dutch oven, placing it in a large bowl.

Preheat your oven to 300º F.

Lower the heat to medium-low, add the onions to the Dutch oven and cook, stirring occasionally, until soft, about 15-20 minutes. Add the carrots, the fresh peppers (both sweet and hot), and the reserved bacon, and continue to cook, stirring occasionally, until the peppers have softened, about 10-15 minutes.

Meanwhile, toast the caraway seeds in a small skillet over low heat until fragrant, about 1 minute. Crush the toasted caraway seeds in a mortar, add the garlic and the salt and crush some more until you have a paste [everyone knows about goulash and paprika, but this combination of garlic, caraway, and salt is just as essential]. Remove the pot from the heat, add the garlic/caraway paste, the paprika, and the smoked Hungarian hot pepper to the onion/carrot/pepper concoction and stir well.

Add the browned meat and stir well. Add the stock to the beef mixture, stir, and transfer to an oven-ready casserole. Add the tomatoes (if using), stir, and cover. Put the casserole in the oven. Bake for 1/2 hour at 300º F, then lower the heat to 250º and bake for another 2-3 hours.**

While the goulash is simmering to perfection in the oven, giving off the most other-worldly aroma, roast some potatoes, if you’re the kind of person who prefers potatoes with your goulash.

If you’re the kind of person who prefers spätzle, plan accordingly.

If, however, you’re happy to serve your goulash with egg noodles, relax.

When the goulash has finished simmering to perfection, season to even greater perfection with the salt and freshly ground black pepper.

If you’re serving your goulash with potatoes, place a spoonful of roasted spuds and ladle the goulash overtop.

If you’re serving your goulash with spätzle, spoon the goulash over a bed of spätzle.

If you’re serving your goulash with egg noodles, ladle the goulash over a bed of noodles.

In all three cases, I recommend topping off the goulash with a small dollop of sour cream.

Usually serves 4-6 hungry souls. I say “usually,” because it really depends who you serve it to. Michelle isn’t the only one who gets driven crazy by this goulash. I’ve seen perfectly civilized people go back for fourth and fifth helpings. You’ve been warned.

NOTE: Goulash often tastes even better on Day 2. I wouldn't necessarily recommend making it a day in advance, because, personally, I wouldn't be able to restrain myself, but, if at all possible, try and keep some as leftovers for lunch or dinner the next day. You'll be happy you did.

[adapted from a recipe in Saveur's "Food for the Holidays" Winter 2004 special issue]

Out of the Archives: "The Red & the White" (2009)

fig. a: King City pinks!

This post first appeared in November 2009. If my love affair was roughly 20 years old at the time, it must be closer to 33 years by now. If anything, my passion for Red Beans & Rice has deepened in the intervening years. Among other reasons, I’ve been using better beans since about 2010. In fact, the other day I made a particularly delicious batch with the beans you see above.

fig. b: the red & the white

There’s no way I can pin this date down exactly, but I’d venture a guess that this is the 20th anniversary of my relationship with red beans & rice. Love affair, actually. Passionate, even. This is going to make me sound like some kind of Legume Lothario, but I’m kind of crazy about the beans. Black, brown, white, speckled, black-eyed, green. You name ‘em. But I’ve got a special place in my heart for red beans. A staple of enormous cultural significance all across the Southern United States and a good portion of the Caribbean, red beans & rice have never really caught on and been commodified in the same way that black beans and pinto beans have. (Apparently some things are sacred. Praise the Lord!) Our relationship has never grown stale, it’s never become banal. Somehow they still taste special.

And they’ve been tasting especially special recently, because after years of my home recipe being a perfectly respectable vegetarian version, this year (to mark our 20th anniversary?) I finally started experimenting with that combination of herbs, spices, and pork (!) that is so central to the Southern tradition of red beans & rice. And the version that’s been blowing my mind recently is a version that includes the spicy tang of homemade pickled pork (!!).

All great dishes have their schools. Old and new. Public and private. Conventional and experimental. Red beans & rice is no exception, and (in the South, at least) one of these schools is the Pickled Pork School.

The bottom line is that if you want to make a true Southern version, it’s gotta have that herbal quality, it's gotta have some heat, and it's gotta involve some pork--nothing fancy, just a ham bone, or some ribs, or some sausage (and maybe all three). In other words, the kind of "scrap" cuts that were essential to African diasporic cuisine in the antebellum South (read: the remarkable, against-all-odds cuisine of the slavery era). The resultant dish is one that’s rich in protein and vitamins. Make a true Southern version and it’ll also have that luscious quality that has made the dish one of the most soulful of Soul Food dishes for a good 200-300 years.

The following red beans & rice recipe makes great use of your very own homemade pickled pork (spare ribs, specifically). Feel free to add a ham bone and/or some smoked sausages (Cajun, kielbasa) to the mix. Also, feel free to use this red beans recipe as the basis for your very own vegetarian version. It's a lot more fully rounded that your standard issue red beans & rice recipe (it's definitely more herbal than the version I'd been making), and you won't be disappointed.

Pickled Pork

1/2 cup mustard seed
1 tbsp celery seed
1 dried hot pepper
1 quart distilled white vinegar
1 bay leaf
1 tbsp kosher salt
12 whole peppercorns
6 cloves of garlic, peeled and crushed
2 1/2 pounds spare ribs, cut into individual ribs (you can also use boneless pork butt, if you prefer)

Combine all the ingredients, with the exception of the spare ribs, in a non-reactive pot and bring to a boil. Simmer for 3 minutes and let cool. When the pickling liquid has reached room temperature, place the pork in a deep crock or bowl and cover it with the liquid. Stir with a spoon to make sure that all the air bubbles have been released. Place a small plate inside the crock or bowl to keep the meat below the surface of the liquid. Cover with plastic wrap and place it in the refrigerator to cure for at least 2 days, stirring occasionally. A longer cure will result in a tangier pickled pork. Three to four days is about perfect for me. Use within two weeks.

[note: you only need half this recipe for the red beans & rice recipe below, so you may want to cut the recipe in half if you're not sure what you might do with the remaining pickled pork. I've found mine to be versatile--think Southern-style greens, Southern-style stews, etc.]

fig. c: the red & the green

Red Beans & Rice

1 pound of red kidney beans (preferably the smaller variety) or, even better, King City pink beans, soaked overnight and cooked until just tender (this will depend on the beans; recently the beans I've been using having been cooking in under 2 hours; for further instructions look here)
1 tbsp bacon fat or vegetable oil or olive oil
2 medium onions
2 large bell pepper, one red and one green, chopped
2 medium carrots, peeled and diced
2 celery stalks, diced
1 bunch flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped
1 bunch green onions, finely chopped, including the green tops
4 cloves of garlic, minced
1 sprig fresh thyme
1 or 2 bay leaves
at least 1 small hot red pepper, finely chopped
1 - 1 1/2 lbs pickled pork
salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
enough cooked rice to feed all comers

Heat the fat or oil in a large pot over medium heat. Sauté the onions for 3-5 minutes, then add the bell pepper, the carrots, and the celery and cook for another 5 minutes, until the onion has begun to turn translucent, the other vegetables have softened slightly, and the flavors have begun to meld. Add the parsley, half the green onions (reserve the rest for serving time), the garlic, the thyme, the bay leaves and the hot red pepper, stir and sauté for another minute. Add the prepared beans, the cooking liquid, and the pickled pork. Bring the cooking liquid to a simmer and taste for seasoning. Add salt and pepper to taste. Simmer the beans for another 1 1/2- 2 hours, checking the liquid occasionally and adding more water if necessary. When you check the beans from time to time, use a wooden spoon to smash some of the beans against the side of the pot, then stir them back into the mixture, creating a thicker, richer broth.

When your beans are just about ready--the legumes ultra-tender, the broth thick and luscious--remove the thyme spring and the bay leaves and cook your rice. Let the rice sit on the stove for an additional 5 minutes after it’s finished cooking to let the rice dry out a little, and to drive yourself even more insane with anticipation. Serve mounds of rice in bowls, covering the rice with generous ladlefuls of the red beans and their broth, and sprinkling some of the reserved green onions (remember them?) on top. Serve with a salad, a crusty loaf of bread or, better yet, some piping-hot cornbread, and a bottle or two of your favorite hot sauce to spice things up even further.

[thanks to John Thorne’s Serious Pig for the serious pickled pork recipe and for some serious inspiration (yet again)]

fig. d: pink beans & rice

I still follow this recipe very closely when I make my red beans & rice. I don’t always make the pickled pork to go along with it, but I’m always happy when I do. It’s a deeply satisfying dish. True soul food.

I have opted for a shorter cure on the pickled pork since I first posted this recipe. I used to recommend a minimum of three days in the cure, but I now prefer the lighter touch of a two-day cure.

As mentioned above, I also use better beans than I used to. A long time ago I became acutely aware of how much of a difference sourcing quality beans make: taste, texture, cooking time, digestibility—all of these factors are at play. Recently, my favourite beans for this dish have been Rancho Gordo’s King City pink beans. They’re an exceptional bean in every regard and they’re literally perfect for red beans & rice: plump, great texture, and a phenomenal flavour.

If I have to start calling them pink beans & rice, I will. Happily. With pleasure.

aj

Late-Summer Bliss, pt. 1

fig. a: late-summer bliss in a bowl

If you live in the Northeast, there’s probably still lots of local corn around. And if you live in the Northeast, and you have access to forests, this is also peak season for chanterelles, especially if you were lucky enough to have a little rain recently.

If you don’t have access to forests, but you do have access to a store that sells fresh, local chanterelles, don’t miss out. Think about it: if you live in the city a) you have to get yourself out to the forest, b) you have to hunt around for the chanterelles yourself, and c) you have to be lucky enough to come across a flush of chanterelles. Unless you have your spots, there’s a lot of chance involved here. Even if you have your spots, who knows, someone might have beaten you to them—it happens. Factor in the price of transportation, and the cost adds up—especially if you come up empty-handed. So if you live in a city like Montreal, and you can easily make your way to Les Jardins Sauvages at Jean-Talon Market to pick up a bunch of pristine, locally harvested chanterelles, don’t balk at the price (do the math!), and don’t miss out. Even enjoying just a handful of chanterelles is a true delicacy, and the season is ever-so-fleeting.

BUT if you have access to the right kind of forest land (say, the Green Mountains of Vermont), and the conditions are right, there’s nothing better than taking a little ramble in the woods. Even if you get stymied when it comes to finding choice, edible mushrooms, you’ll probably see all kinds of other mushrooms, and who knows what else you’ll encounter.

On one such walk, in early August, we came across butterflies,

figs. b & c: unidentified flying creatures

salamanders,

fig. d: commander salamander

two deer (sorry, no photographic evidence—they were too quick for me!), and lots and lots inedible, but rather fantastic mushrooms, including a Witch’s Hat.

figs. e, f, & g: weird and wonderful mushrooms

fig. h: Witch’s Hat!!

And we also found a nice haul of chanterelles, including a somewhat rare white chanterelle.

fig. I: yellow and white gold

fig. j: golden beauties

When we got home, we felt totally rejuvenated.

We also had some very nice souvenirs.

fig. k: nice haul, pt. 1

So, that’s the best-case scenario: a wonderful walk + a successful mushroom-hunting expedition, one where you find a nice quantity of choice, edible mushrooms, like chanterelles.

But, like I said, don’t get hung up on having an optimum mushroom foraging experience, especially if you’re new to the game. It takes a while to know what you’re looking for, and to know where to look for what you’re looking for.

Luckily, Michelle has gotten pretty good at mushroom hunting, so when she led A-Train and I into the woods a couple of weeks ago after there’d finally been some blessed rain, we were feeling pretty confident.

And, sure enough, we soon came across our first flush.

fig. l: first flush

This cluster was fairly small, but they were in very good condition. Within a half an hour, we’d found several other flushes. We were short on time that day, so we had to stick to a schedule, but we were feeling pretty satisfied as we headed back home with our bag of goodies.

fig. m: mushroom hunters

When we laid them out, cleaned them, and took a better look at them, we were even more satisfied.

fig. n: nice haul, pt. 2

The next night, back in Montreal, we made a simple pasta dish with the chanterelles:

egg pappardelle

chanterelles sautéed in butter

fresh minced parsley and chives

crème fraîche

freshly ground black pepper

And a few nights later, still in Montreal, and with my taste for chanterelles still not fully satisfied, we made our way up to Jean-Talon Market to get the ingredients you see in the corn chowder with chanterelles pictured up top. In other words, forage your own chanterelles if you can, but don’t be too proud to turn to the experts if you have to (or if you want to).

Corn Chowder with Chanties

12 ears of corn, shucked and shaved into a large mixing bowl, making sure to collect as much juice from the cob as possible before discarding it (use the back of your knife pressed firmly against the cob to release these juices)

1 sweet onion, diced

2 stalks celery, diced

2 medium carrots, diced

6 small potatoes (preferably new)

2 mild or medium-hot peppers, diced

2 cloves of garlic, minced

chanterelles sautéed in butter (or olive oil) and seasoned with salt

fried bacon or kielbasa (sliced and diced) [optional]

1 dollop of crème fraîche mixed into each bowl just before serving (use 1 tsp - 1 tbsp, depending on the size of your bowls) [optional]

salt & pepper

The method for this chowder is very simple. Sauté your onion in 1 - 2 tbsp of olive oil over medium heat in a large pot until translucent. Add the celery, carrots potatoes,, and peppers and sauté for 5 minutes, until the celery has softened slightly. Add the garlic and sauté for another 1-2 minutes. Add the corn niblets and all the collected corn juice to the pot. Sauté over medium heat for 5-10 to see how much juice the corn releases. Add just enough water to get the mixture to chowder consistency (i.e., not too thin, thick with ingredients). Bring to a boil and then simmer over low heat (adjusting the seasoning first with salt and pepper) until the carrots and (especially) the potatoes are tender, about 45 minutes to one hour. When the veggies are cooked, take the pot off the heat and let it sit for an hour or two to let the flavours meld, or continue on to next steps.

While the soup is simmering, sauté the chanterelles and season them. This should only take a few minutes.

If using bacon or kielbasa, go ahead and fry it. If you’re using both the bacon/kielbasa and the chanterelles, feel free to fry the meat first, and then sauté the chanterelles in the drippings (with maybe just a little butter or olive oil added).

Ladle the hot chowder into bowls. Stir in a dollop of crème fraîche to each bowl. Top each bowl with chanterelles and bacon/kielbasa, if using. Grind some black pepper over each bowl.

Serve with crusty bread and a green salad.

A dry Riesling wouldn’t be the worst idea either.

Enjoy.

There you have it. Late-summer bliss in a bowl.

The corn chowder alone is simply wonderful. Add the chanties, let them sing, and the chowder gets taken to the astral plane.

aj

Are YOU a true Zep Head?

Well, are you?

Will you be in Montreal Friday, March 18 and/or Saturday, March 19?

Put yourself to the test. Ultimate Zeppole is back!

Available at Elena, noon till SOLD OUT each day.

Get ‘em while you can!

Elena, 5090 Notre-Dame W., Montreal, QC

514 379 4883

aj

The List, 2021 Edition

Stormy weather ahead (always)

Sounds

Orchestre Poly-Rythmo de Cotonou, The Skeletal Essences of Afro-Funk, 1969-1980

Endless Boogie, Admonitions

sample track: “Counterfeiter”

Bomba Estéreo, Deja

sample track: “Deja”

V/A, I’m Just Like You: Sly’s Stone Flower, 1969-1970

Indigo Sparke, Echo

sample track: “Everything, Everything”

Linton Kwesi Johnson, Making History

sample track: “Making History”

Khruangbin, Mordechai Remixes

Terry Callier, What Color is Love

sample track: “You Goin’ Miss Your Candyman”

Terry Callier, The New Folk Sound of Terry Callier

sample track: “900 Miles”

Sharon Van Etten & Angel Olsen, “Like I Used To”

Johnny Clarke, Rockers Time Now

sample track: “Ites Green and Gold”

V/A, Afro-Peruvian Classics: The Soul of Black Peru

sample track: Susana Baca, “Maria Lando”

Mdou Moctar, Afrique Victime

sample track: “Afrique Victime”

Steve Gunn, Other/\You

sample track: “Protection”

Nick Cave & Warren Ellis, Carnage

sample track: “Hand of God”

Godspeed You! Black Emperor, God’s Pee At State’s End + virtual album launch concert, live from the Imperial Theatre, Montreal, QC, March 28, 2021

Bitori, Legend of Funana

sample track: “Bitori Nha Bibinha”

Aretha Franklin, Young, Gifted and Black

sample track: “Oh Me, Oh My (I’m a Fool for You Baby)”

Aretha Franklin, I Never Loved a Man The Way I Love You

Myriam Gendron, Ma délire—Songs of Love, Lost and Found

sample track: “Go Away From My Window”

Saint Etienne, “Only Love Can Break Your Heart”

Saint Etienne, I’ve Been Trying to Tell You

sample track: “Pond House”

Shadow, Sweet Sweet Dreams

sample track: “Let’s Get It Together”

Gloria Jones, “Tainted Love” (1976 version)

The Harry Smith B-Sides

V/A, Essiebons Special, 1973-1984: Ghana Music Power House

Dry Cleaning, New Long Leg

sample track: “Scratchcard Lanyard”

Nairobi Matata Jazz, “Mapenzi Hayana Daktari”

Kindness, “World Restart” (featuring Kelela & Ade)

V/A, Cameroon Garage Funk

Wye Oak, “Its Way With Me”

V/A, Edo Funk Explosion vol. 1

Billie Eilish, Happier Than Ever

sample track: “Your Power”

Chris Brokaw Band, Onion River Campground, Plainfield, VT, August 7, 2021

Moving Images

The Power of the Dog (2021), dir. Campion

The Underground Railroad (2021), dir. Jenkins

The White Lotus (2021), dir. White

The Velvet Underground (2021), dir. Haynes

The Sound of Metal (2019), dir. Marder

Summer of Soul (…or, When the Revolution Could Not Be Televised) (2021), dir. Questlove

King: A Filmed Record... Montgomery to Memphis (1970), dir. Lumet & Mankiewicz

C’mon, C’mon (2021), dir. Mills

A Cop Movie (2021), dir. Ruizpalacios

Judas and the Black Messiah (2021), dir. King

Nomadland (2020), dir. Zhao

Bergman Island (2021), dir. Hansen-Løve

Spencer (2021), dir. Larraín

Archival Screening Night Roadshow II, 2021 edition

Small Axe (2020), dir. McQueen

“Alex Wheatle”

“Education”

I Married a Witch (1942), dir. Clair

Travelling for a Living (1966), dir. Knight

Support the Girls (2018), dir. Bujalski

To Hear Your Banjo Play (1947), dir. Lerner & Van Dyke

The Crown, seasons 1-4

“Danger on the Right?,” New York, New York (1964), prod. WABC-TV

The 80 Goes to Sparta (1969), dir. Davies

Un Jeu si simple (1964), dir. Groulx

Trafficopter (1972), dir. Howells

`À Saint-Henri le cinq septembre (1962), dir. Aquin

Bozarts (1969), dir. Giraldeau

Ty-Peupe (1971), dir. Bélanger

Le Chat dans le sac (1964), dir. Groulx

The Hundos (2021), prod. & dir. Cobden

Rock-a-Bye (1974), dir. Bensimon

New York Lightboard Record (1961), dir. McLaren

Opening Speech (1961), dir. McLaren

Fabienne sans son Jules (1964), dir. Godbout

Manger (1961), dir. Carle & Portugais

My Name is Susan Yee (1975), dir. Shaffer

The City (Osaka) (1970), dir. Pindal

The Hottest August (2021), dir. Story

Print

Colson Whitehead, The Underground Railroad

Clinton Heylin, The Double Life of Bob Dylan: A Restless, Hungry Feeling (1941-1966)

Clinton Heylin, Revolution in the Air: The Songs of Bob Dylan, 1957-1973

Andrew Marantz, Antisocial: Online Extremists, Techno-Utopians, and the Hijacking of the American Conversation

John le Carré, A Legacy of Spies

Warren Ellis, Nina Simone’s Gum

Michelle Nijhuis, “I’m Just More Afraid of Climate Change Than I Am of Prison”/“The Valve Turners,” February 13, 2018/January 17, 2021

Cal Newport, “E-mail is Making Us Miserable,” The New Yorker, February 26, 2021

Brooke Jarvis, “Did Covid Change How We Dream?,” The New York Times, November 3, 2021

Jacqueline L. Tobin and Raymond G. Dobard, Hidden in Plain View: A Secret Story of Quilts and the Underground Railroad

Camilla Wynne, Jam Bake: Inspired Recipes for Creating and Baking With Preserves

Luc Sante, Maybe the People Would Be the Times

Claudia Roth Pierpont, “The Many Battles of Nina Simone,” The New Yorker, August 4, 2014

Michael W. Twitty, Rice

Mike Davis and Jon Wiener, Set the Night on Fire: L.A. in the Sixties

Christie Milliken and Steve F. Anderson, Reclaiming Popular Documentary

Steven Jacobs, Anthony Kinik, and Eva Hielscher, eds. The City Symphony Phenomenon: Cinema, Art, and Urban Modernity Between the Wars—now in paperback!

Food & Drink

Elena, Montreal, QC

Vin Mon Lapin, Montreal, QC

Birria hysteria

Huli Huli chicken

Silken Tofu with Spicy Soy Dressing

Citrus-Cured Salmon

Old School Steak Night (home edition)

Hoppin’ John (2021 edition)

Bob Dylan’s 80th Birthday Party, Parc Lahaie, Montreal, QC, May 24, 2021

Heyday Farm, Cabot, Vt

Flywheel Farm, Woodbury, VT

Von Trapp Farmstead, Waitsfield, VT

Canteen, Waitsfield, VT

Poppy Café, Burlington, VT

Cognac Grosperrin

Miscellaneous

Chana Joffe-Walt, Nice White Parents (Serial)

Zoe Chace, The Improvement Association (Serial)

Katrin Bennhold, Day X (The New York Times)

October in Vermont

Josh Levin, One Year: 1977 (Slate)

Izzy & Ozzy forever!

“The Decision of My Life,” The Daily (The New York Times)

garments by Ya Basics!, including this cozy house coat

Kurosaki knives

NAD 5240 compact disc player

Point Abino, ON in September

R.I.P.

Charlie Watts

Beverly Cleary

Lee “Scratch” Perry

Jean-Paul Belmondo

Joan Didion

bell hooks

Martha Lou Gadsden

Anne Saxelby

Bunny Wailer

Monte Hellman

Dean Stockwell

Dan Kolesar

Arthur Amorim

plus so many more, an already immeasurable loss become increasingly so…

It's a Disgrace

When we were kids, my sister and I were fans of Tomie dePaola’s Strega Nona. Who wasn’t back then? Back in the freewheelin’ '70s. Back before the conservative movement had launched its Inquisition to purge children’s literature of anything that might not be in step with its radical Christian fundamentalism. Back before even Strega Nona came under scrutiny. The book had just won a Caldecott Medal and had quickly become a beloved classic of children’s libraries across America. Of course, I had extra reason to be on board—Strega Nona’s assistant was a guy who went by the name of Big Anthony. Cool handle, right?

fig. a: Nona & Tony

Anyway, recently I found myself thinking about good ole Strega Nona and her witchy ways again for the first time in ages when I came across a tantalizing, revelatory recipe. Why Strega Nona?

fig. b: Nona knows best

Well, it had something to do with the fact that it was a pasta dish that came with a “colourful” Southern Italian name, not unlike Strega Nona (basically “Grandma Witch”). Plus, you don’t need spells or a magic pasta pot to make it, but the dish is rather magical.

The recipe in question was for Rigatoni alla Disgraziata—”the poor wretch’s rigatoni.” (You’ll notice that, as they always are, this pasta dish is gendered feminine, so the “poor wretch” in question is a woman. That didn’t stop me from identifying with her. I mean, Big Anthony didn’t have any hesitations about hanging out with Strega Nona, did he?) The dish is a classic of the Sicilian repertoire, but I’d be surprised if variations aren’t also found in other parts of Southern Italy (like Calabria, Strega Nona’s home region), because it’s basically a simple, honest, and satisfying eggplant pasta dish, a “peasant’s dish,” a prime example of cucina povera. This particular version involves some cheese, but the breadcrumbs that are essential to its preparation would often be used as a substitute for cheese in poorer households. The two vegetables necessary to make the dish are eggplant and tomatoes, staples that virtually every Sicilian family would have had on hand (or would have easily been able to access, one way or another).

fig. c: eggplant & tomatoes

Use the best eggplants and tomatoes you can find—preferably out of your own garden—but the bottom line is this is cucina povera—the cuisine of the poor and of the frugal—use what you have. In my case, I found some gorgeous organic eggplant at the market, but I wasn’t so lucky with tomatoes, so I made do with canned ones.

And while the recipe that I used as a model was for rigatoni, I substituted in busiata instead, because that’s what I had on hand, because they hail from Sicily (Trapani and environs in Western Siciliy, to be specific, where they’re often used to make Busiate alla Trapanese), and because their worm-like shape seemed appropriate to the dish in question (and ideal for the lead-up to Hallowe’en).

figs. d & e: Busiata di Sicilia

My source was a beaten-up old copy of Saveur Cooks Authentic Italian (2001), from the heyday of the beloved magazine. It’s amazing what turns up again when you move, as I did recently, and it’s amazing how well a good cookbook (just like a good children’s book) stands the test of time. Now that my knowledge of Italian cuisine has expanded, now that I’ve spent a little bit more time in Italy, this collection of recipes seems even more vital than it did in the early 2000s. Its cucina povera game was always strong, however, something which was a distinct bonus back when I was a graduate student and which always endeared me to it. Why I’d never tried making Rigatoni alla Disgraziata is a mystery to me.

The technique that’s featured here and that I found “revelatory” is a simple one for preparing eggplant. Eggplant is famously difficult for so many home cooks who don’t come from a tradition of preparing, consuming, and enjoying eggplant. Sure, you’ve read that certain eggplant dishes are considered the pinnacle of vegetable cookery throughout the the Mediterranean region and beyond, but the issue of even choosing nice eggplants can be daunting for many, let alone transforming them into something majestic. And god knows improperly cooked eggplant is a horror.

In this case, I started with Japanese-style eggplants, which are often a safer bet than larger globe eggplants because they’re less seedy and they cook up quicker. The fact that these were local and organic and that I had great faith in the farm that raised them made them an even better bet.

Cubing the eggplants, generously salting and tossing the cubes in a colander, and allowing them to “sweat” for an hour or so is a standard method for removing the bitterness of untreated eggplant. Many recipes that involve Japanese eggplant don’t call for this step, but you still may want to go this route just to be sure (I did).

But the genius of the recipe has to do with pan-frying the eggplant in a generous amount of olive oil before it gets anywhere near a sauce. The idea is to transform the cubes into golden little jewels of flavour that are lightly crispy on the outside and positively melty inside. By the time this step is completed, the eggplant is already delicious, but it’s ready to become even more so when tossed with your sauce, your pasta, and your cheese.

This technique is useful in a wide range of contexts and recipes. For instance, Michelle has been using a variation on this technique (she chops the eggplants differently and cooks them in a different type of oil) for some of her Japanese dishes for years. Like I said, once you’ve prepared the eggplant in this manner and seasoned them, they’re already delicious, anything else you do to them is extra.

But in this case, the eggplant formed the basis of a rustic pasta dish:

Busiate alla Disgraziata

3-5 small Japanese eggplants, or 2 medium globe eggplants, trimmed and cut into cubes

Kosher salt

1/2 cup plus 2 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil

1 cup fresh bread crumbs

1 lb busiata or rigatoni

1/4 tsp red pepper flakes

2 cups tomato sauce, preferably homemade

1/4 cup grated pecorino or ricotta salata

freshly grated Pamegiano-Reggiano

Put the eggplant in a colander, sprinkle liberally with salt, and toss to coat well. Allow to drain for 1 hour to “sweat” and extract bitterness. Rinse the eggplant and pat dry with a clean kitchen towel or paper towel.

Heat 2 tbsp of olive oil in a large, heavy skillet (I used a 10” cast-iron one) over medium-high heat. Add bread crumbs and cook, stirring, until golden, about 2-3 minutes. Transfer to a bowl and set aside.

Wipe out the skillet with paper towel, add remaining 1/2 cup* olive oil, and re-heat over medium-high heat. Add half the eggplant and cook, stirring and flipping the cubes often, until golden, 8-10 minutes. Transfer eggplant with a slotted spoon to a large bowl and season to taste with salt. Repeat process with remaining eggplant.

Cook past in a large pot of boiling generously salted water until al dente. Add red pepper flakes to tomato sauce in a small pot and warm over medium heat, 4-5 minutes. Drain pasta in a colander and add to bowl with eggplant. Add tomato sauce, pecorino or ricotta salata, and bread crumbs and toss well.

Serve sprinkled with Parmigiano Reggiano, accompanied with a glass of red wine, some chili oil, and a green salad.

[Based very closely on a recipe from Saveur Cooks Authentic Italian (2001), by the Editors of Saveur Magazine]

The final product should look something like this:

fig. f: Busiate alla Disgraziata

I found it deeply satisfying, perfect for the late harvest season, and not a disgrace in the least. Quite the contrary. To me it’s quite beautiful, and I wish I had a magic pasta pot that was capable of producing vast quantities of this utterly delicious dish. But even more important is the magical transformation that is at the heart of this recipe, and that blesses it with heart. Like all great cucina povera—like all great “peasant food,” in general—it’s a dish that glories in creating “something” out of “nothing”—something wonderful.

Big Anthony

• Note: the original recipe calls for 1 cup of olive oil. If you’re using an even larger skillet, you may need to use more olive oil than I did—up to 1 cup. But for a 10” skillet, I found 1/2 cup was ideal.

Sausage Fest

Hands up: how many of you out there have encountered difficulties cooking sausages over a charcoal grill?

There’s certainly no need to feel ashamed. It’s a common issue.

Typical problems:

• Sometimes your sausages cook too quickly on the outside, but not on the inside.

• Other times they burst and spill their precious juices all over your coals, drying up and causing flare-ups.

• And then there are times when you leave them sitting on a fire too long and they dry up and get shrivelled and tough.

Luckily, there is a solution, and it’s a pretty foolproof one, too.

A couple of years ago I became a convert to the “Simmered ‘n’ Grilled” sausage method J. Kenji López-Alt developed for Serious Eats. The idea here is to create a moist bed for the sausages that will allow them to cook more gently while imparting them with flavour.

So, if you’re cooking German-style sausages like brats or wieners, you might provide them with a bed of sauerkraut moistened with beer or wine. You place your mixture in disposable—but reusable!—foil pans, you nestle your sausages on top, and you place your pans over the coals in a two-zone barbecue. When the liquid begins to bubble, move the pans over to the cool side of the barbecue. It will likely take about 15-20 minutes for your sausages to cook properly, but that will allow the sausages and the bed of sauerkraut to commingle. Keep your meat thermometer handy. After about 15-20 minutes, check their temperature—you’re looking for an ideal temperature of 150º F.

At that point, your sausages are ready to be moved to the hot side of the grill so you can crisp them up and apply a perfect char to them. This process will be quick—a couple of minutes max—and when you’re done, the sausages will be gorgeous, juicy, and supremely flavourful.

In my case, I was cooking Spicy Italian Sausages with Fennel, so I went the iconic route and accompanied them with onions and sweet peppers. But I also had some gorgeous organic Japanese eggplants, so I quartered them lengthwise, chopped them up, and added them to the trays too. I also added a large clove of garlic to each tray. As for my moistening agent, I added some homemade chicken broth.

Because of the eggplants, I started the trays on the grill without the sausages for about 15-20 minutes to give the veggies a head start. Then I added the sausages and followed the Serious Eats method.

Lo and behold, in about 20 minutes, my sausages had reached temperature and were ready for the finishing touches. So I moved them over the coals, and voilà! After a couple of minutes, they were perfect, so I placed them back in their trays and brought them inside.

These sausages, together with the onions, peppers, and eggplant would be phenomenal stuffed inside an Italian roll. An Italian-American street food classic.

But on this particular occasion I had the idea of tossing them with some pasta and Parmesan cheese and serving it in a bowl with some chili oil drizzled over top. It was exactly what I was looking for.

aj

The Devil Made Me Do It Again

fig. a: free-range plums

Let’s just say you’ve managed to find yourself some lovely early fall plums. It’s not difficult these days—there are still a lot of Italian prune plums around.

And let’s say you’re a fan of chutney.

If you’ve never had it before, plum chutney is truly one of the world’s great preserves, and an absolute joy as part of a cheese platter, especially when served with a sharp cheddar. And if you’ve never made it before, it’s very easy to prepare, and incredibly satisfying.

For my latest batch, I started off by using the basic method from “Micro-batch Jellies & Jams.” I bought 3 litres of plums at the farmers’ market. I halved them and pitted them. I weighed them and then added 40% of their weight in sugar, mixed everything thoroughly and allowed them to macerate in the refrigerator.

The next day, after they’d released their juices, I turned to Nigel Slater’s Hot, Sweet Plum Chutney recipe. You can find it in Ripe. You can also find it on the Serious Eats website. Though I made a few fairly significant changes, I used Slater’s recipe as my blueprint.

The thing is, though Slater’s recipe has a bit of spice to it, I wanted my batch to be even kickier. I wanted it to have some of the fire & brimstone of Devil’s Chutney. So I bumped up the chilies and added a habañero to the mix. I also added some ginger. The results were XXXactly what I was looking for.

XXXtra Spicy Plum Chutney

3 litres of plums

1 tbsp neutral cooking oil, such as canola

1/2 vidalia onion

l nub ginger, peeled and minced

1 sweet red pepper, finely chopped

1 habañero pepper, minced

1 clove garlic, minced

1-2 dried red chilies (preferably arbol, or something similar)

3/4 cup golden raisins

2 tsp yellow mustard seeds

2/3 cup apple cider vinegar

2/3 cup red wine vinegar

black pepper

salt

Heat oil over medium in a large-ish flat-bottomed saucepan and sauté the onion for a few minutes until beginning to turn transparent. Add ginger, chopped sweet and hot peppers, and garlic. Sauté for another minute or two. Add dried chilies (I used 2), raisins, mustard seeds, vinegars, and a healthy dose of freshly ground black pepper.

Bring to a boil, turn down to low and simmer gently for an hour. Adjust the seasoning with salt and sugar (if necessary).

Sterilize your jars and lids.

Continue to simmer gently for another 30 - 60 minutes. Check to see if the chutney has achieved a proper set. You can do so by running a rubber spatula across the bottom of the saucepan with a swift motion. If the chutney parts momentarily allowing you to see a swath of stainless steel, your chutney is ready to can.

Think of yourself as Moses parting the Red Sea. If that sounds preposterous, possibly even sacrilegious, think of yourself as Charlton Heston pretending to be Moses parting a Red Sea of chutney.

When you’ve achieved a proper set, taste your chutney one last time, and adjust the seasoning as needed.

When your chutney is à point, spoon the chutney into your sterilized jars and seal.

My batch made nearly 5 x 250-ml jars.

Within hours, i’d already busted into one of my jars for my first cheese & chutney platter of the season.

fig. b: cheese, chutney, crackers 1

fig. b: cheese, chutney, crackers 2

XXXtra Spicy Plum Chutney is delicious with cheese and crackers. It’s also fantastic with curries of all kinds. And if all that wasn’t enough, it’s lovely with a wide variety of meat & game, including turkey and pork chops.

This chutney is absolutely, perfectly to my liking. Sweet, savoury, piquant. If you want it even more fiery—devilishly so—make your own adjustments. Add some more dried red chilies and/or another habañero chili or two. Or cut to the chase and add a 1/4 teaspoon of cayenne.

aj