brown butter tart

Look, I know that I can be a very harsh critic of my own food. I think that anyone who pursues an interest of any sort often finds things to nitpick over. We do that because we love what we do, right? And think of it this way: how much sweeter it feels to really nail it.

The first time I was ever truly pleased with food I'd made myself (not food I was making at the restaurant) was around about New Year's Eve 1997. Something like that, or so I recall. I had made a pot of tomatillo braised country style pork ribs and some biscuits, and as I ate (with my parents, who were visiting), I was actually exclaiming out loud. It was good. I was pleased.

Moments like that are few and far between, but never think that I am on the verge of throwing every meal into the garbage or having to hold my nose when I eat my food. No. Mostly it's thinking to myself, "Hmmm... next time try tweaking XX a little." Or, "Maybe a little more precise measurement next time." Nothing too down on myself. Just wanting to do better.

Yesterday, though, I hit on happiness with my cooking. Daniel came for dinner, and I made us ribs with some broccoli on the side, and they were tasty - I usually like how my ribs turn out. But no, that's not what I'm talking about, and I didn't snap any shots of the ribs anyway. Instead it was dessert: brown butter mango tart.



Brown butter blueberry tart was a standby at the restaurant for at least a few years. I think Helen may have grown bored with it in the end, and after many iterations, that's understandable. I always liked it, though, for its somewhat cakey-filling that had that intriguing brown butter flavour and for how easy it was. Swap out the blueberries for other fruit, and you had a versatile dessert foundation to deploy on short notice. I got in the habit over the years of having some frozen berries in the freezer just in case. Tart fruits like raspberries work especially well in the dessert, I think - they cut against the sweet filling all the better.

With Daniel set to come over, I dashed through Whole Foods after brunch yesterday and grabbed a wedge of a triple-cream cheese and some nice crackers. I thought I could make a quick fruit relish to go with that, and we'd call that dessert. When I got home, though, I realized I had some mangoes purchased earlier in the week. They were still slightly underripe, but I decided that was to my advantage - a bit more sour, some acidity to balance sugar. My favourite standby popped into mind.

The recipe is one from The Ma Cuisine Cooking School Cookbook by a chef named Roy Yamaguchi. I don't know why I'd never put two and two together before today, but the chef is, of course, Roy of Roy's fame. The recipe isn't a Hawaiian one given the blueberries, but the mango takes it back there a little.

Anyway, mid-afternoon I set to work on the tart, creating a crust of shortbread-like crumbs to press into the pan. I am often a bit cavalier with this step and end up with a thick and/or hard crust. This is the part I was most delighted with last night: a nice crust that was buttery rich and fairly tender. Over the crust I scattered the pieces of mango and some toasted slivers of almond. Over top the fruit and nuts went the brown butter filling - I add a hint of salt to it to give a bit of edge to the sweet. Into the oven on 350 for 50 minutes, and later that bright, sunny Saturday afternoon we had dessert ready.



The funny thing about making dessert for a dinner for only a few people is that it can mean a lot of dessert leftover. I'm half tempted to eat a sliver for breakfast, but I think it might be wiser to send the remainder into Conrad's office tomorrow. They should enjoy it there. But for one dinner, for one evening, I was genuinely pleased with what I'd made, finding no fault, and lifting forkful after forkful to my own appreciative mouth.

NYC, early spring

Not much to be said here, just a few shots of Central Park last weekend. When Conrad and I arrived in NYC, it was in the mid-60s and so so comfortable for walking. It cooled quickly overnight, unfortunately. No matter - we had sun (I got a mild sunburn, in fact).

Never been to NYC? Thinking it's time you went back? Let the photos (more from the weekend on Flickr!) entice you some...

dining in NYC

I've been trying to think back (my memory is decrepit, a sieve) to past trips to NYC and recall memorable meals. Sadly for me, perhaps, I've not had anything in that most amazing of food cities.

No, not true. I do recall a meal of pork hocks and black eye peas and greens at The Pink Teacup on a class trip there in 2000 (when I also saw Christopher Walken in a musical version of The Dead on Broadway). I also have a recollection of enjoyable tapas at El Cid (now closed) that is most notable for having spent much of our evening talking with a regular who turned out to be something of a burden for the staff there, with the result that Conrad and I were given some nice extra treats. And then there was the dinner at Fleur de Sel, my treat to Conrad when he was made a Fellow of the ACI. Fine but unmemorable food, but oh gosh do I recall how obnoxiously loud the tables we were sandwiched between were.

This past weekend, though, I think we broke the curse with two dinners. I hope that at least certain elements of each stick with me a while.

Aureole was our choice for the Friday night. Conrad found it, and we had hopes of enjoying the late night bar menu. We ended up having a rather quick and on-time bit of travel, though, and arrived too early at the restaurant to do the bar menu. Ah well. The food was good. Hmmm. I may say that I will forget it over time - it was fine, and I thought my chicken with jalapeno and pistachio was ultimately reminiscent of the best taco salad you can imagine. I mean that as praise. And they give out a deliriously rich yet light chicken pate as their bread and butter? Whoa. No, what I took away from that meal were two things:

1. service in a city like NYC really is good. The sommelier was excellent.
2. they had a Seresin Pinot Noir. Bliss.

The second night was kind of better if only because we weren't pressed to eat so late. Following from my enthusiasm for Top Chef, we dined at a Tom Colicchio restaurant, Craftbar.

I liked it. I liked it a lot. So did Conrad. Pork for two for dinner? Yes please. Shoulder and skin and belly and kielbasa. Yum! Conrad and I shared a simple salad as well as some olives and almonds, had a surprisingly chilled (but very good, if too peppery for Conrad's preference) Oregon Pinot Noir, and lingered over brown sugar cake for dessert. Say it with me: brown sugar cake. Oh yes.

Look, I know that NYC has a super-abundance of amazing, great, good, and decent places. Maybe I need to go back and find more. For one weekend, though, I felt like finally I'd cracked it a little, and good food was my reward.

two midweek dinners

I don't think I've made anything really great lately. Some things that have been decent, reasonable, adequate. A bit of a rut with cooking? Ah well - Conrad and I are hardly going to bed hungry at night.

Yesterday was, of course, Pancake Tuesday. Yes, right, Mardi Gras. Whatever. King Cake wasn't my family's tradition, no. Pancakes for dinner on Shrove Tuesday was the custom. So it was I set to work on crepe batter and filling when I got home. Ultimately I turned out a pleasant and filling but unexceptional meal.



Some cauliflower, some onion, some bacon - all sauteed together, then some red chard mixed in. I filled the crepes with that mixture and some Robusto cheese. A bit of green veg, and Bob's your uncle: dinner.

I joked tonight that I was tempted to keep the chicken in the fridge and order in sushi. In fact, I was sorely tempted. Just not in the mood for chicken tonight, and that may be why it was a bit of an indifferent meal. I marinated the pieces in sherry and olive oil with some salt, pepper, garlic, and saffron. I then baked the pieces and served them with some of the super-delicious cumin-stewed lentils from Monday night (even if I'm less than satisfied with my cooking, the source recipe in a John Bishop cookbook is reliably good)(and Whoa! Amazon has a category of Canadian regional cookbooks? Awesome. Rebar is most popular? Cool!) and a few Brussels sprouts. The lentils saved the dish - it was alright, nothing spectacular, but I think I plated somewhat appealingly.

Oh, I know, I'm my own worst critic. Truly, though, most of what I cook and we eat at home is pretty basic, pretty simple. But one day I'll try a few new things, and we'll have some real fun at the dinner table again.

dinner in honour of Brian

Sad, but true: our friend/neighbour/teammate Brian is leaving Chicago. His partner, Giuseppe, will be in Chicago next weekend to help Brian finish off the last bits that need finishing and then export him out of the country. No more Project Runway nights or other casual dinners out. A nice piece of our social lives here in Chicago, gone.

Happily for us, though, Brian is moving to Vancouver. Last night's dinner in honour of him promises not to be the last dinner I make for him.

I think it may only have been once that I made us food for a Project Runway night at Brian's place, and it was a bunch of baby back ribs. When Brian, Daniel, Conrad and I were together recently - was it at Nightwood or a team brunch - the recollection of those ribs came up, and we decided that I would make us more on the evening of the team going-away party. Food first, then off to a gay bar. I rather enjoy ribs, so I was up for it.

Four of us became five with the addition of Rudy, and Conrad and I shifted plans for dining from the kitchen to the dining table. Cooking and set-up was not too difficult, and by the time the guys arrived (and nope, no photos of them, sorry), we were relaxing. A bottle of Champagne chilled, a few things to nibble on. Conversation started.

As for the food, well, it was fine enough. A rundown:

When I make ribs, I season them with salt and pepper, wrap them in foil, and bake in a low oven for 2+ hours. I don't have a standard sauce recipe. I usually mix up some sweet, some sour, some salty, and taste as I go along. The sauce yesterday had a mixture of garlic, ginger, sriracha, ketchup brown sugar, oyster sauce, soy sauce, and white wine vinegar. I usually unwrap the ribs then brush on the sauce a few times as they cook a while longer.

I don't make rice or pasta or potatoes for me and Conrad when we're alone, but I made up rice yesterday, returning in spirit to something we used to do at the restaurant, firecracker rice. I cooked basmati then tossed it with green onion, pine nuts, currants, diced red pepper, and a sauce mix. I reheated the rice before serving and placed mounds on each plate.

I'm a brassica fan - the vegetable sides give me away. Broccoli unadorned to add some green to the plate. A red cabbage slaw to add some purple. The slaw used a vinaigrette with a bit of sesame oil to tie it to the vaguely Asian flavours of the ribs and rice.

It all made for a satisfying plate of food, I think, I hope. And I didn't stop there, of course. A simple dessert of a ginger cake plated with a thin, quick creme anglaise and dried sour cherries soaked twice in brandy.
Best part of that is that there is a nice, big piece of extra cake leftover, and I'm mildly tempted this morning, before Conrad gets up, to slice a bit and toast it up for my breakfast.

A good meal, and as I noted, not the last meal I make for Brian, I am sure. As for Daniel and Rudy, well, they both liked the food AND cleaned their plates, thereby meeting the the conditions for being invited back.

about cooking and eating

So here I sit on a Thursday evening. I've had a simple dinner. Well, I think it's simple. Not photo-worthy. Never mind what it was. Conrad returns late tomorrow night, and I'm in an oddly reflective mood.

I have an interesting relationship with food, with eating. It's not hidden that I was once much bigger. Much much bigger. No, I won't post the photos from those days, nor will I tell you how much I weighed then. Imagine me now with a Soviet Bloc gymnast or figure skater added to my body and that will give you an idea of it. So I approach food both hungrily and greedily as well as cautiously. Ever wonder why I bake so much yet share it outwardly with friends and others? To satisfy the urge to cook, to be with the food and yet maintain a reasonable weight. The deal I've had to make with myself.

That sounds alarming, as if I don't eat. Readers of this blog over the years will know that oh yes, I eat and relish in it. When I lived in my hometown years ago, though, and went from a fat guy just out of undergrad to my mid-twenties and many pounds lighter, I would get occasional inquiries.

Are you sick?
Are you eating?

The implications were clear, or what I read into them was clear to me. No, I had no wasting disease of any sort. Yes, I was eating. Eating disorders were not my route to losing weight (much as Ruth, bless her, frets over my nutrition bar lunches - that's not starving myself, that's expediency).

But it does require vigilance. And I'll tell you this - and ask you to indulge and even forgive me: once fat, always fat. You never lose that mindset, that mental image.

Is it irony or cosmic black humour that I spent several years cooking professionally, that I currently review cookbooks and bake scones for teammates and dine at some of Chicago's finest restaurants with Conrad?

Ah well. As I said, a reflective mood tonight. I genuinely feel good about myself, and while I've been eating lazily (not poorly) while Conrad is out of town for work, I still can muster up a half-decent plate of food from time to time. Salmon last weekend when Frank came to dinner. The wheels in my head are spinning planning a dinner of ribs for Brian and Daniel this weekend. My peculiar relationship to cooking and eating lives on, and maybe, just maybe, it's working for me.

what are the criteria?

So here I sit, finishing off dinner (Conrad is in LA until Friday night late), and I find myself in a conversation conducted through comments on a photo on Facebook. Over what? Cookies, specifically a recent shipment to a few friends.

I love to bake for people far more than I love to bake for myself. I knocked out four different types of cookies on the weekend and sent off a few parcels. It's gratifying to know that people enjoy them.

I get asked by people how they can get cookies or such. Or friends get asked how they can get my cookies or such. It's a tricky question. I can't even explain how I go about it all the time. You just kind of have to accept it. But here are a few helpful hints in case you do want to try my baking (and please, it's just average fare - it's nice to get homebaked stuff, I know, but any bakery can kick my butt):

1. be my best friend, or
2. live in the US (mailing cookies to Canada or elsewhere could be tricky) and
3. take me up on my offers (this round of baking I offered to friends in exchange for supporting a book tour for Josh, whom I met in Baltimore last winter), or
4. catch me in the right mood.

The rules change about, I am capricious at times. Here's what you don't do:

• do not tell me that Whole Foods makes better scones than I do (thank you, though, Luis for giving me THAT to aspire to).

In the end, though, there's nor hard and fast rule other than #1 and, to a lesser extent (I would be glad to bake in Vancouver), #2. If baking comes your way, roll with it. It's not the worst thing to be subjected to. Or so I hope! ;-)

wine pairing dinner

Following the overindulgent evening at Nightwood this past weekend, we took a few nights off, more or less, dining a little bit lighter and more simply. Back to that again after last night. Maybe back to that for a good little while to come.

I am an unabashed fan of Frontera Grill and Topolobampo, and the yearly series of late winter/early spring wine pairing dinners are an especially good reason for us to dine there. Last night was the first of this year's (we also have reservations for the April dinner), and as usual, it was really something. Here's a rundown of the evening that was:

• a cooking demo upstairs in the test kitchen. Rick Bayless showing us how to make achiote shrimp.
  I am firmly of the opinion that the man is an excellent teacher, and even though I have some reasonable knowledge of Mexican food, I come away from these demos having learned new things. Also, we all get to sip darn good margaritas while we watch and listen. And then a small serving of the shrimp for each of us before heading down to the Morales Room for the meal.
• wines from Bethel Heights Vineyard in Oregon. The Casteel sisters were in attendance to talk about the wines and meet the guests. Our favourite? The Chardonnay paired with the second course. We asked Jill for more at the end of the night and were thrilled to be given some.
• the first course, ceviche verde. Sashimi-grade Hawaiian bigeye tuna tossed with avocado, jicama, charred fennel, cucumber, lime, cilantro, and roasted garlic. Bayless garden Ruby Streaks radish micron, pinenut crunch. Quite good, with the crunch being most memorable (which is an odd thing to say, but I did like it!).
• the second course, pampano en mole verde. Garlic-marinated pompano served with classic green pumpkinseed mole. Enchilada of hoja santa-flavoured mashed potato, grilled frisee, crispy kale. I want buckets of that sauce, and I'd love some eggs with it. Or a bath. Conrad and I agreed that it was our favourite pairing.
• the third course, puerco en salsa de pasilla y huitlacoche. Adobo-marinated pork with full-flavoured sauce of pasillas and huitlacoche. Iroquois white corn torta, grilled green beans, crispy black trumpet mushrooms. HUITLACOCHE! YES!!! Another sauce I want buckets of, thank you.
• the dessert, pastel de chocolate y naranja rosa. Gooey clourless chocolate cake layered with dark chocolate-lemongrass crema and blood orange "curd". Candied and fresh blood oranges, caramelized cocoa nibs. I used to like-not-love the desserts at Frontera, but for a couple of years now I've been blown away by them, and this was the case last night.

Other things that were great about last night included the company. RAD was next to me, and there were other familiar faces from past dinners at the table. We had a terrific time and good conversation.





And then there's Jill. I don't think I've sung her praises on the blog in a very long time, and that's just wrong. Jill remains one of our favourite people, and a trip to Frontera means we get to talk with her a bit. Plus, frankly, she looked gorgeous in that patterned blouse last night. (that's her, standing behind our table - the only decent photo I had of her)

So cheers, here's to my expanding waistline and my lack of self-discipline. It's a bean, cauliflower, and tomato soup for us tonight for dinner, and I intend to get to a rare (for me) Thursday night swim practice to atone for overdoing it midweek.

But oh man, it really really was worth it...

(more photos from last night are up on Flickr!)

Tuesday assignment

Liz and Adrian welcomed their third son earlier this month, and many of us (if not all) on the swim team are so very delighted for them. And with that happy news, Ruth kicked into gear. Meal coordination. You do not want to let Ruth down!

Because of our recent travel, I opted to take today's date on the meal delivery schedule. Midweeks are not too bad for us, and since I had research and other work I could stay at home to take care of, it was easy for me to take care of a bit of cookery and then let it sit or bake or what-have-you while I took care of the work itself. We were ready for a 6:30 delivery without problem.

This is another instance where I was glad for past restaurant experience and the recipes I still turn to. I'd debated over and over the past few days what I would make before settling on a vegetarian version of torta rustica. Usually I make it as the recipe calls for: with layers of chicken breast meat. Since Liz and Adrian and family are vegetarian, I took out the chicken, added a bit more cheese, and added a bit of sauteed cauliflower. I hope they are enjoying it.

The funny thing, though, was that when I went to grab the cookbook, it wasn't there. Ooops. Where did I put that darn thing. I was pretty sure I didn't take it to Vancouver. And then I remembered - dimly - that we had had friends over for dinner last month, and I made pizzas for us.
They had enjoyed the meal, and I loaned them the cookbook. Grrr. I needed that recipe. Time to put the librarian skills to use online.

I won't tell you the lengths I went to, but it almost involved a long distance call following consultation with one of the best librarians I know. Ultimately, however, I found the darn thing.

It turned out nicely, I think.


In addition to the torta, I cooked up some Israeli couscous and wild rice and made a grain salad. I also baked a batch of cookie dough so I could pack a baggie of chocolate gingerbreads along. Conrad and I arrived pretty much at 6:30 on the dot, delivered our food, met the new baby, and left them all to have a family meal together.

And after all that, I'm hoping there will be another assignment soon so I can dig up a different, favoured recipe and bring it over. Cumin-stewed lentils? Cauliflower couscous pie? Let me go think on it some....

Nightwood

As I write this on Sunday morning, just before we head off to meet Darth and Heidi for brunch, I have to admit, I'm feeling a little overindulged today. Read that as "hungover" if you must (though I think that's not quite the case), but know that we had a terrific, late meal with Brian and Daniel last night. We said we would make it back to Nightwood after our first visit there this year, and sure enough, we did.

Michael was the one who first suggested it as a nice dinner out for us - I think he saw it on "Check Please" some time before that and had been intrigued. We agreed on a midweek evening, and given reasonable winter weather, Conrad and I were able to walk there from the Library.

Arriving a bit early, we ordered some fun cocktails from the bar and were soon joined my Laura and Michael. They, too, ordered drinks, and eventually we made it over to our table. The menu looked great, we had some Pinot Noir to sip, and the food turned out to be really very good. Fried smelts as my appetizer - like popcorn! A duck confit for my dinner. Warm cookies to share for dessert - all of them delectable, not a dud in the assortment. Conrad and I agreed that we very much wanted to come back.

And then the opportunity quickly arose.

Last night was something of a going-away dinner for Brian. Sort of. A last chance for a good meal out in Chicago before he moves, though we know we will get to see him in Vancouver in times ahead. Daniel was there, too, another enjoyable dining companion. We started out with a cocktail at nearby Skylark, then made our way to Nightwood for a 9:00 reservation.

The restaurant was jampacked, and we had to park at the bar for a short wait for the table. We ordered a bottle of a Pinot and a plate of fried lemon slices with aioli, and - of course - no sooner had we ordered than the table was ready.

I've got an image of the menu from last night from the restaurant pasted in here. It changes, perhaps nightly, though I think that some things are somewhat constant in idea even if the sides change. There was the duck confit again, though served with different accompaniments (Brian had that). The chicken was Conrad's choice the first time we went (he had the steak last night). We shared a plate of the smelts (once again good), and then I opted for the pate. The sardines were the obvious choice (to me) for my meal, and they were very good - three of them, grilled. I love sardines. As for dessert, I ordered the sticky fig cake (the brittle with it was the best part, the cake was fine but not exceptional), while we had a plate of cookies for the table (all of them again good) and Brian ordered a scoop of peanut butter gelato (truly peanut buttery, not especially sweet).

The only dud of the evening was my last glass of wine, a red blend I thought would be a rich finish to the evening. It tasted completely maderized, and I was brought a replacement that was better but not satisfying. We noticed this with the first bottle of wine (we had two with dinner): too warm. The second bottle had a bit of a chill on it and was much better for it. I should have said something to them - they seem to store their reds in too warm a spot.

Wine incident aside, we will go back.

It was a late night. A 9:00 reservation down in Pilsen meant that Conrad and I crawled into bed, overindulged, at 1:00. That is so far from our normal habits, and I'm afraid to admit it: I'm getting old.