Showing posts with label Canada. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Canada. Show all posts

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Toronto


Before I get back to what's going on in sunny, spring-time Barcelona, it would be remiss of me not to mention Toronto, where we stopped on our way back to Barcelona for random toboganning, extravagant dinners with friends and some very unpleasant dentist appointments. Don't worry, I still have all my own teeth.

This year, my favourite addition to the always changing Toronto scene was OddFellows (936 Queen St. W., 416-534-5244, reservations recommended for weekend evenings), for the unabashed fun of it. The brainchild of designers Kei Ng and Brian Richer, OddFellows blends eclectic, modern, campy and sometimes just plain weird design pieces with an atmosphere that's as down home as it gets: a wood burning stove, a long communal table, the clatter of dishes, the bumping of elbows and the buzz of conversation...well, it's actually more like a clamour to be heard over the throbbing music, but it's a minor niggle.

The food follows the homey elements of the space: bison meatloaf, pressure cooker lamb stew, a burger the size of a small child's head--all fantastic and all seasoned with a giant dose of family dinner hour nostalgia, right down to the creamed corn and partitioned plates.

Initially, I thought that there was a certain kind of pretension behind OddFellows' self conscious devil-may-care-ness and deliberately incongruous pairing of out-there design with the staples of home cooked comfort food. Certainly there's an eerie sense of displacement, a carefully constructed falseness of the kind you feel when you enter an artist's model of a house. Maybe it's just the reverb of putting an unfamiliar spin on the ultra familiar. Ultimately, it's just another element of the experience and the bottom line is that the experience, particularly in good company, is great. You should go.

Monday, February 16, 2009

Calgary


Hi. How are you? It's been a while. What's new? How's the family? Work? The dog? Your Friday night bingo games? Yeah, it's always great to get together with the old gang even if the stamping pens are getting a little pricey.

Me? Oh, I've been fine. Took a trip to a little town they call Calgary. Saw the folks. Froze my ass off. Put on a few holiday pounds. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Yes, the weather was bad. Thirty below. Not a word of a lie. And piles of snow. Mountains, even. The fluffy kind. It was a little like the Christmas movie version of the North Pole. Except for the tree sized candy canes and talking reindeer. Not many of those.

A few good restaurants, though. Who would have thunk it? Don't get me wrong, I'm still a long way from declaring that Calgary is the next Barcelona, but frankly, it was better than I would have thought.

For one, there were tapas. Good tapas. Better tapas than I've had in Canada in a long while. At Wine Bar Kensington (Lower-1131 Kensington Road NW, (403) 457-1144). I know, they didn't waste any creativity on the name. Perhaps that's for the best. We could have ended up with Hola Cowtown or something equally Iberia meets the Wild West. (You can take a city out of the cow pasture, but you can't take the cow pasture out of the city.)

Now, to be perfectly honest, the tapas weren't authentically Spanish, but no one in North America really uses the word tapa to designate anything resembling traditional Spanish tapas anymore. The tapas were "small plates", as they say, ranging from a delicate bison carpaccio to an absolutely divine mascarpone stuffed lemon ravioli to staggeringly good Alberta beef short ribs to a died-and-went-to-heaven pork belly risotto. The wine selection was nice too and within reach. As for dessert, we were tempted by a basil cheesecake. Now, for my money, you can't really improve on the good old fashioned variety of cheesecake--i.e. the kind without the basil--and should probably not spend too much time trying. But I will say that the basil version was creamily memorable.

Other spots deserving of mention are Blink (111 8 Avenue SW, (403) 263-5330, www.blinkcalgary.com) and Mercato (2224 4 Street SW, (403) 263-5535, www.mercatogourmet.com). Thanks to my lovely sister and her very large gift certificate, we were treated to some very finely prepared dishes at the swish Blink. These, in their minimalist and somewhat trendy way, showcased the highlights of Canada's bounty: freshwater Manitoba pickerel, bison, loads of Alberta beef and other tasties, which I would probably remember but for the gallons of wine we consumed. The one minus to the evening was that the place echoed with emptiness; we were one of two tables in a restaurant that sits 60 if not more. It was a Monday night between Christmas and New Year's, though. Perhaps not the most popular dining night of the year.

In stark contrast to Blink, Mercato (no relation to the Toronto version, I'm told) is always stuffed to the gills and is the place I can now say I always go to with my dear friend Amreen, given that we've been there twice, once on each of the last two holiday treks we've separately made to see my parents, her in-laws. The lively spot has solid Italian pastas and mains, a terrific antipasto platter and a combination of clatter and movement that makes you feel perfectly comfortable bringing kids; Amreen brought her baby this time around. What I particularly love about Mercato is that Amreen and I can sit still for hours amid all the commotion, picking at hunks of parmigiano and roasted red pepper while sharing the news of the year that's just passed, the intimate and the notorious, the happy and sad kernels of it.

By the way, you can find Amreen's Urban Moms blog, The Balancing Act, by clicking here.

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

Oh Starry Night


A few months ago, my friends Allan and Trish were in town, treating Felipe and me to dips in the roof top pools of their swank hotels and multiple bottles of cava. We ate well in those weeks--tapas around town, a picnic on the beach, and paella on our terrace. But the most decadent treat (thank you Allan and Trish) was dinner at Cinc Sentits (www.cincsentits.com)--a restaurant owned by Catalan-Canadian brother and sister, Jordi and Amelia Artal (pictured).

The dinner deserves a considered post and you will get one in time. Before that, however, one piece of news: last week, Cinc Sentits was awarded its first Michelin star...an honour that locals have long thought deserved and one pounced upon by Catalan newspapers following the release of the new Michelin guide for Portugal and Spain.

The star is all the more bright because of the widely prevailing view (at least in the Spanish press) that the awards of stars were "stingy" this year--stingy in that few new stars were awarded in Spain, of course. But what would food industry accolades be without a little fodder for bellyaching, I say.

You can read my article about Cinc Sentits in the Globe & Mail until I get a chance to fill you in further. Here's the link: Catalan-Canuck chef makes Michelin magic.

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

Pigs for Obama


It's a little hard to wrap your mind around pigs on the glorious morning of the Obama victory. Believe me, I know. But, if any pig can take your mind off history-making, righteousness and the single largest ray of hope on the world political stage, it's the wooly, totally improbable Hungarian mangalica. I like to think the mangalica would have come out for Obama in droves were they human and registered voters in key swing states.

In any case, here's a link to my story about them (voting history not addressed) and the Spanish production company that helped save the breed: Mangalica: The Next Big Pig.

In case you're wondering, I do still have a piece of sausage left from the mangalica samples that Jamones Segovia sent me, the ham samples having disappeared a long time ago. The pork is delicious, even if the picture of the wooly critter on the packaging creeps me out a little every time.

Thursday, May 1, 2008

More Ham

Well, I'm not going to make further jus-tifications for my delin-quency. Nor will I try to appease you by posting original material. But I do feel sufficiently guilty to at least post a version of the story I wrote for the Globe & Mail about jamon iberico. It ran with a different set of photos on April 2. (The photos I've posted here are just for you.) By the way, the ham passed Canadian inspection and arrived in stores on around April 10th.

Hog Heaven

LA ALBERCA, Spain — The village of La Alberca, in the low mountains of the Sierra de Francia in western Spain, resembles many towns in the region: Locals still smoke pipes in the main square and donkeys tread the cobblestone streets carrying farmers and their products.

But La Ablerca stands out for the stone statue of a pig in front of its church – a sign of the region's veneration of noble Iberian swine.

The area around La Alberca is one of the few in Spain where black-hoofed Iberian pigs, descendants of the wild boars that once roamed the peninsula, are raised free-range in oak forests, where they feed on acorns. The cured ham produced from these pigs ( jamon iberico) ranks with white truffles and beluga caviar as one of the food world's coveted wonders.

At an expected $300 a kilogram or more (about $1,500 a leg), the highest (bellota) grade of this ham will have a commensurately wondrous price tag when it arrives in Canadian food shops and restaurants for the first time, probably this week, following one Canadian's five-year quest to bring it here.

“This product is really special,” says Michael Tkaczuk, president and chief executive officer of Toronto's Serrano Imports, the force behind the ham's arrival in Canada.

He's not the only fan.”It's absolutely fantastic,” says chef Massimo Capra of Toronto's Mistura restaurant, which will be among the first to get the ham. “Canadians should be really excited to be getting it. Something like that is really something to rejoice about. We're not used to making this type of ham here. We're not used to getting it here.”

Chef Martin Kouprie of Toronto's Pangaea, which will be involved in the official launch of the ham on April 10, echoes the sentiment. While he says he typically prefers to work with local producers, this ham simply can't be produced locally.

Last summer, Pangaea served fresh Iberian pork it obtained as a sample at $50 a plate (single chops were served over potato rosti and organic vegetables). The dish was so popular that the restaurant ran out of the meat in two days. “People said it was better than they ever imagined and they actually saw the value in it,” Mr. Kouprie said.

When the Iberian ham is sliced, ideally by hand and paper thin, it is a deep maroon colour, shot with creamy fat. Placed in the mouth, it barely needs chewing; the smooth, nutty flavour explodes and the meat nearly melts apart.

The flavour is so exquisite that Pangaea intends to serve it unadorned, with only roasted red pepper and artichokes as accompaniment.

The story that comes with the ham gives the experience another dimension. Iberian pigs are a singular race. Their black hooves, slim legs and shiny red-black coats are often-cited distinguishing features.

But it is a genetic deformity that makes the meat so coveted: The pigs' fat penetrates muscle mass so well that the result is a thoroughly marbled, richly flavoured and tender meat. The fat is said to approximate olive oil in the high levels of oleic acids it contains, and has properties that lower bad (LDL) cholesterol and increase good (HDL) cholesterol.

To produce the highest quality Iberian ham (called jamon iberico de bellota), Iberian pigs are released in the last months of their lives into oak forests indigenous to the low mountain ranges of southern and central Spain.

Between November and late March, the pigs approximately double their weight by feeding on fresh mountain grasses and acorns that fall to the ground, which infuses the meat with its prized nutty flavour.

Traditional producers approach the slaughter of these pampered animals with great reverence, referring to it as “the sacrifice.” In a ritual that mimics an ancient religious rite, the pigs are not fed for 24 hours to remove impurities from their systems before being killed by the puncturing of the jugular vein. They are usually rendered unconscious with CO2 or stunned electrically before slaughter in order to reduce their stress and thereby preserve the quality of the meat.

In accordance with centuries-old tradition, legs of ham are cured in sea salt and dried at stringently controlled temperatures and humidity levels. The entire process can last for 24 months or more.

Even in Spain, where ham is a way of life, Iberian ham is prized.

When Mr. Tkaczuk first contemplated importing the ham to Canada in 2003, there were restrictions on the import of pork slaughtered in Spain. But by June 2005, concerns over various swine diseases in Spain were dispelled, said Elham Guirguis of the Canadian Food Inspection Agency, and “fresh meat and processed meat products derived from swine originating in Spain [were] eligible for import into Canada, as long as they [were] slaughtered in an approved plant.”

Once Canada opened its doors, the challenge was getting the first exporter interested and approved. Because the supply of Iberian ham is relatively inelastic, the demand in Spain and Europe is already high, and the cost of complying with North American standards is significant, this was no easy task.

Mr. Tkaczuk approached Embutidos Fermin, a small family-owned producer in La Alberca that is currently the only exporter to the United States.

“Fermin wasn't initially thinking of Canada,” said Raul Martin, who is responsible for Fermin's North American export business. “Michael approached us.”

Mr. Tkaczuk had to woo. “Fermin seemed a little nervous at first. We used the contacts we had in the Spanish government and others to help convince Fermin to work with us,” he said.

Ultimately, it worked, and Fermin applied for Canadian approval, a process that has involved the inevitable delays and expenses occasioned by two countries' bureaucracies.

The first shipment of Fermin's jamon iberico is now on the ground in Canada for CFIA inspection. It is hoped that the ham will be available for sale this week in Vancouver, Winnipeg, Ottawa, Toronto and Montreal.

In a rare jump on their American neighbours, Canadians will be able to purchase the highest grade of the ham (bellota, or 100-per-cent acorn fed) before the same product gets to the United States, expected in July. A lower grade arrived in the United States in December, 2007, and, at $1,000 (U.S.) a leg, the first hams sold out in the blink of an eye.

Based on buzz alone, the Canadian experience is likely to be no different.

Wednesday, April 2, 2008

Jamón Iberíco


So this is the story. Over the past few weeks, I've been tracking and writing about this crazy ham (jamón iberíco) for a Canadian newspaper.

As my friend Dave says, jamón iberíco is the Dom Perignon of ham. It's a delicious ham, no question. Best in the world? I'd say so. It's certainly priced that way.

It arrived in the States in December and is coming to Canada for the first time this month--likely in stores this week. It will retail for about $300/kg or more for the bellota (highest grade, acorn fed ham); and about $180/kg for a lower grade of the ham (recebo, which is partially acorn and partially cereal fed). (The bellota will not reach the States until July--it can be pre-ordered on-line at www.latienda.com, a supplier of Spanish foods in America.)

In Toronto, you can buy the ham at Pusateri's, Cumbrae's or Longo's or sample it at restaurants Pangaea, Cava or Mistura. Domus in Ottawa will also have it as will a few other locations across Canada. It's well worth the price if properly stored and cut--particularly as you only need a few paper thin slices, say $10-15 worth, to get a good taste.

This is just a bit of pictorial flavour. The photo is of the ham in a drying room in the Sanchez Romero Carvajal (5J) factory in Jabugo, Spain, which I toured in February with Roger Davies of A Question of Taste (www.aqot.com), a fantastic gourmet tour company located in Seville and can arrange jamón and other food tours as well tapas tastings and Spanish cooking classes. 5J is one of the best known brands in Spain, but not the one coming to Canada...at least for now.

More on the ham, Jabugo, and the tour as well as the Spanish supplier to Canada, Embutidos Fermin, and my trip with the Canadian importer (Mike Tkaczuk of Serrano Imports) to visit Fermin's farm and factory later.

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

Alex Cobb's Biscuits

It is 11am on a grey Toronto Sunday morning some weeks ago and I'm invited to the Cobbs' for brunch. The entire rear end of the Cobb house is these days swathed in construction plastic and the kitchen has been relegated to the dining room in a state that can best be described as ramshackle. Alex Cobb, barely greeting me as I enter, seems impervious to all this and I believe could exist amid construction chaos in perpetuity. With the foresight of a hardened pessimist, he's timed brunch precisely to coincide with my half hour late arrival.

What I have to hand to Alex, besides the claim to a first name that is next to impossible to say without tacking on the surname Cobb, is that (and I'm sorry for being compelled to say so, Ronni*) he's a sexy cook. You know, in the way men can be. It's in his slowness about the task. I mean, he's wearing wool socks and sandals, is hunch shouldered, sleepy eyed and laconic as all hell. But somehow it works for him in the kitchen.

It doesn't hurt that the results of his efforts are pretty darn exciting. On this day, he's created a gourmet Egg McMuffin: a piping hot homemade biscuit layered with a poached egg of the perfect consistency (outside firm but tender, middle slightly oozy), cambozola (substituted by cheddar for the kids) and prosciutto. The combination is fantastic, but the indubitable star of the sandwich is the biscuit. Salty, moist, crumbly biscuit. (I'm sorry I didn't take a picture of you, biscuit. You would have been well worth displaying on the web. Well worth.) We can't resist seconds and fleetingly fantasize about thirds, but eventually content ourselves with strawberries and cream for dessert. Even the kids approve.

Pleased with himself, and rightly so, Alex Cobb provided me with this biscuit recipe should you care to replicate the McCobb (as I like to call it):

3 cups all purpose flour
4 tsp baking powder
1-2 tsp salt
(No sugar, but if you insist on sugar, reduce the salt and add 1 tbsp.)
3/4 tsp cream of tartar
3/4 cup butter (cold)
1 1/4 cup buttermilk

Mix the dry ingredients. Grate or cut in cold butter and mix with a fork or pastry cutter until the whole resembles coarse bread crumbs. Pour buttermilk into a well in the centre of the crumbly mixture. Stir until curds form. Mash down with your fists (Alex Cobb demonstrated this with vehemence; apparently, it brought him some satisfaction). Empty out onto a wooden surface. Knead until the dough holds together but is still sticky. Don't overdo it. Roll out to 1/2 to 3/4 inches of thickness. Cut out rounds with a biscuit cutter, the top of a glass, a compass, what have you. Bake on a non-stick baking sheet for 12 minutes in a 450 F oven. After cooling just a little, set on the table in a covered bamboo steamer or some other porous and mysterious container to tantalize your guests while you take care of the rest of the fixings. Keep an eye on the guests to ensure the biscuits are not compromised.

Try to enjoy while grimacing to complete the experience and make Alex Cobb proud.

*Ronni is Alex Cobb's wife. She's sexy in and out of the kitchen.

Thursday, January 10, 2008

Here Piggy, Piggy, Piggy

So, I'm still in Toronto. I know, I know, you were expecting me to be back in Barcelona already, rolling around in a bathtub filled with tortillas and chorizo. Or maybe that was just me.

Well, I'm not back until next week. We're all just going to have to accept that and I'm going to have to clean out the drain at my dear friends' Martha and Jeremy's--they've been kind enough to put me up for the next week.

On the up side, I have been keeping myself busy with social engagements and what not. And I'm as delighted as ever with the number of terrific restaurants in Toronto, though sad to see a couple of favourites close (Sugar, Xacutti).

Last night, a couple of generous, well heeled friends took me for dinner at Lucien (36 Wellington, where Pravda used to live). To my great excitement, Babe three ways (belly, crackling and what can only be described as juicy middle) was on the menu, served over a cassoulet. Soo-wee, he was delicious.

I had two bites of crackling left when the waiter tried to remove my plate. I smacked his hand away and said, I'm still working on the crackling. Oh, he said, fear flashing across his face. Don't stand between a girl and her crackling, said my friend Doug. Yeah, I said, making my eyes into tiny little slits. Don't. I finished the crackling and licked my lips with menace.

That pig never stood a chance.

Friday, December 21, 2007

Christmas Guilt


I had good intentions, as we all do. I was going to post several times before Christmas. I had plans for a mazapan post, maybe something about almendritas, a bit about los tres reyes. All Navidad related.

But I got waylaid. I flew to Toronto. A storm hit. Thirty centimetres of snow fell in one day. I got distracted.

Now, in Calgary, I'm helping my mom prepare dishes for a traditional Polish Christmas Eve. Pierogies, cabbage rolls, borscht. I'll tell you more about that, but first I have to work myself out from under the piles of cabbage and mushrooms.

In the meantime, I'm going to post some photos of the Christmas lights in Barcelona by way of apology.

Feliz Navidad!