Lex Culinaria

Winemakers Cake

It wasn't until last year that I realised that grapes are actually meant to taste like...well..grapes! I always assumed that Welch's added fake grape taste to their juice as I had never tasted a grape with that flavour. Last year, about this time, I bought some Okanagan grown grapes at the Strathcona Farmer's Market and was blown away. They weren't the same vaguely sweet and watery tasting grapes that I had known all my life. They were packed full of crazy mouthwatering grapey flavour. I ate the whole carton inside of a day. I went back to the market the following week, but they were gone.

I pined for those grapes and wondered if I would ever have the experience again.

I'm happy to report that in the last two weeks I've had the pleasure of eating 3 more cartons of these grapes and, even better, they are available at regular grocery stores! So I am not restricted to a window of 6 hours on a Saturday to procure the week's supply!

I love these grapes so much I wanted them to be the central feature for our dessert when we had dinner guests last week. I pondered at great length about the appropriate treatment for them and finally settled on this recipe from Epicurious.com, which I have reproduced below for convenience, along with my changes (more grapes!!!).

This is not an overly sweet cake, which suite the grapes well and suits my maturing palate quite well too. I find I prefer my deserts to be less cloying and sweet than I did when I was younger.

Try to use grapes that are seedless or which have very small seeds. I've managed to purchase both seeded and unseeded varieties, so you night want to double check in the grocery store before you purchase.

This recipe would work equally well with cherries or berries of one kind or another. It's kind of like a clafouti but it's more cakey than custardy. Maybe closer to a coffee cake in texture, and incredibly moist.

• Butter and flour for greasing the cake pan
• 2 large eggs, at room temperature
• 135 g (2/3 cup) white sugar
• 60 g (4 tablespoons) unsalted butter, melted
• 60 ml (1/4 cup) light olive oil
• 80 ml (1/3 cup) light cream 
• 5 ml (1 teaspoon) pure vanilla extract
• 15 ml (1Tablespoon) Cointreau or Grand Marnier
• 200 g (1 1/2 cups) unbleached all-purpose flour
• 5 ml (1 teaspoon) baking powder
• A pinch of sea salt
• Grated zest of 1 lemon
• 500 g (2 to 2.5 cups) small purple or blue grapes
• whipped cream for garnish

Preheat oven to 350°F/175°C.

Butter and flour a 9"/23cm springform pan.

Using an electric whisk or mixer, whisk eggs and sugar until thick and pale and fluffy, about 5 minutes. Add the butter, oil, milk, vanilla extract,and cointreau and mix until blended.

Combine the flour, baking powder, salt and lemon zest in a large bowl. Spoon the mixture into the bowl of batter and stir with a wooden spoon until thoroughly blended.

Stir about 3/4 of the grapes into the batter. Spoon the batter into the prepared cake pan and smooth out the top with a spatula.

Place the pan in the centre of the oven. Bake for 15 minutes, then sprinkle the top of the cake with remaining grapes. Bake until the top is a deep golden brown and the cake feels quite firm when pressed with a fingertip, about 40 minutes more, for a total baking time of 55 minutes. Remove to rack to cool. Run a knife along the sides of the pan to loosen. Release and remove the side of the springform pan, leaving the cake on the pan base. Serve at room temperature, cut into thin slices and topped with gently sweetened whipped heavy cream.

A dirty little secret

I'm sure even the most seasoned gourmet has a dirty little secret like mine. That one comfort food that's too embarrassing to admit to. You make it in secret and wash up quickly in case someone pops by unexpectedly.

It took me almost six months of dating Cakes before I would admit to mine, afraid he'd be repulsed (he was), and afraid I'd sound weak trying to justify why I'd eat such a thing (I did). I am positive I prefaced the announcement by saying, "okay, this is going to sound gross, but trust me it's really not." Well, it's been almost 4 years since that revelation, and in the meantime Cakes married me, so it can't be too bad.

What's my dirty little secret? Cuisine Chinois. And believe me, despite the name, there's nothing even remotely "Cuisine" or "Chinois" about it really. It's a peculiarity of the Saguenay region of Quebec, which is Quebec's redneck armpit. It's thanks to my living in Saguenay in the summer of 1990 that what little French I have left can most properly be described as "farmer French". I still say "whaaayyy" instead of "oui".

But I digress.

Despite some very fine cheese that is produced in Saguenay (as well as some disgusting pickled eggs), Saguenay is (shockingly) not overly impressive culinarily-speaking. As a contributing member of the student newspaper at Universite du Quebec a Chicoutimi (affectionately called UQAC -  go on, say it aloud) I had the opportunity to write a rivetting piece on the food served at the school cafeteria. In addition to my review of the Tarte de Quelquechose Avec les Petits Choses Vert (something-or-other pie with little green things) I wrote about Cuisine Chinois.

Cafeteria food is never good, so I guess it's not surprising that Cuisine Chinois would make an appearance. However, this miracle of Saguenay gastronomy was also served at at least one local restaurant and also at the home of the family I stayed with, and that of a friend. It is clearly a regional dish.

(You're probably wondering right about now why it is I have not yet told you what exactly is Cuisine Chinois. There's a good reason. Shame.)

I remember precious little else about what I ate that summer. Probably due to all the pichets of Black Cat beer that I drank. I have a vague memory of zucchini on pizza somewhere in Quebec City (it was good). I was first introduced to carrot juice there. Of course I can't forget the Tarte de Quelquechose.

Then there's the Cuisine Chinois. Here's the most shameful part. I still make it at least once every 3 or 4 months. It's my dirty little comfort food secret. It features the two mandatory comfort food ingredients - carbs and salt - in spades. It's dead easy to make too.

Okay.

I can't avoid it any longer.

Cuisine Chinois

• cooked macaroni
• canola oil
• frozen peas
• cut up weiners
• pepper
• soy sauce

Stir fry the cooked macaroni in oil so it gets partly brown and crunchy. Add the weiners and peas and cook it a bit more. Sprinkle on the pepper and douse with soy sauce. Continue cooking until the mixture is no longer drippy and the macaroni has absorbed the soy sauce.

If you need me, I'll be at my therapist's office.

No farting while eating. Please?

Dear fellow diners,

I’ve tried to ignore it. I’ve tried not to care, but I just can’t go on like this any more.

We need to have a talk about table manners.

You heard me.

I love the experience of a good meal. That experience is made up of a lot of things…the taste of the food, the presentation of the meal, the service, atmosphere, décor. That’s not a newsflash for most people. What doesn’t often get included in that list of the intangible, but important, aspects of the dining experience is that it is influenced by table manners. Both your own and those of others around you.

As Miss Manners would (and did) say. The whole point of manners is to put in place rules so that everyone is comfortable and life is agreeable for all. How can you fault that. And what part of life is more worthy of being agreeable and comfortable than the dining experience. None, I say.

Bearing this in mind, I have taken the liberty of setting out below a few basic pointers that I’m sure you’ll agree will make the dining experience much more agreeable for all concerned. I am sad to say, all of these pointers are inspired by direct observances of actual people around actual tables in the recent past.

About cutlery and the use thereof:

• Your fork is not a front-end loader. Don’t overload it, it makes you look greedy. Besides, you have to open your mouth super wide to get it in and then your dining partner is forced to become acquainted with your tonsils. Eeeewwwwww.
• Learn to hold your fork properly, it should be used as a platform to convey food, not as a spear or pitchfork. Never, under any circumstances, should your fork be held in a clenched fist.
• The only thing with any business conveying food from plate to mouth is cutlery. Fingers are not cutlery. Unless you are having Indian or Ethiopian food, neither is bread.
• Cutlery is not a laser pointer or conductor’s baton. Do not use it to punctuate sentences or point stuff out to your dining companions.
• Wait until you are finished chewing and swallowing what is in your mouth before loading up again. Seriously. Otherwise you have to display mouth full of partly chewed food to the person opposite you in order to get the next load in which is gross beyond belief. Plus, it makes you look like a giant piggie.

About food and its path from table to mouth to stomach:

• Licking cutlery is gross. And dangerous. I know a guy whose tongue got pinched between fork tines. Ouch.
• Do not ever chew with your mouth open. It’s absolutely the grossest thing to have to look at. You might not mind so much, but it’s positively loathsome to those in whose line of sight you sit. If you have sinus problems take Sudafed before dinner. If you’ve got a cold, stay home in bed.
• No talking with food in your mouth. Using your hand to shield the fact that you are in fact talking with food in your mouth does not count. What you have to say cannot possibly be so important that it can’t wait 10 seconds, until you swallow,  to be said. Unless, of course, it is “FIRE!”, in which case, you are excused.
• Lip-smacking, slurping, noisy chewing, and other similar noises are gross and irritating. Cut it out.
• Do not reach across someone elses’ plate to help yourself to something. Ever. Even at home. Ask politely for the item to be passed.

Some other helpful basics:

• Under absolutely no circumstances is it acceptable to answer a cell phone or attend to a blackberry during a meal. To do so implies that the real live people with whom you are dining are less deserving of attention than some remote communication device that humankind managed to live without for the first million years of its existence. It’s the modern day equivalent of saying to someone at a cocktail party, “Oh, do excuse me. John’s just walked in and he’s far more important than you.” If you can’t help yourself, excuse yourself to the restroom or lobby to indulge – although never more than once per meal and not for any longer than it would take you to use the facilities normally. If you really can’t tear yourself away from the cell phone or blackberry for more than 30 minutes, you’re obviously too busy and important to be taking time for meals. Have lunch by yourself at your desk instead.
• I am deeply, profoundly disturbed by the fact that this next statement is even necessary: Please don’t fart (or belch) at the table. It’s just so very, fundamentally wrong.
• There are some foods that should only be eaten at home with people you love and who love you back: corn on the cob, crab and lobster come to mind.
• Ribs and wings should never be eaten in any restaurant that has cloth napkins. Yes, even if they are on the menu.
• Under no circumstances should your particular style of eating result in a later discovery of bits of food in your hair or that of your dining companions.
• Do not pick your teeth at the table. Excuse yourself to the bathroom. Plus there’s a mirror there which should make the job easier.
• Ladies: no applying makeup or looking in your compact mirror. That’s what the ladies room is for.
• Please do not snap your fingers, gesticulate wildly, clap or whistle to get your waiter’s attention. Brief eye contact and a nod will do the trick. If you do snap or whistle, your waiter has every right to ignore you. Or spit in your wine. Or both.
• The totally unnecessary rapid clinking of your spoon as you stir your coffee is the culinary equivalent of repeatedly clicking your pen in an exam. You may be okay with it, but it’s ruining someone else’s experience. It is possible to stir your coffee without making such a highly irritating noise.  Same thing goes for obsessive dish scraping.

Let me also point out that table manners at home in the privacy of your own four walls and in the presence only of those who are required by law or direct blood bond to continue to love, or at least tolerate, you are different from the manners required when out at a fancy restaurant. Every other experience falls somewhere in between.  This is not to say you shouldn’t be mindful of your manners around your family and friends, just that you can relax a little bit and know that there will likely be no social consequences if you manage to get a splash of sauce on your chin. The “no farting” rule stands though.

I think I’ve managed to get out all the really important stuff.

If you’ve got something to add, chime on in…

Chard and Cheese Pie

ou already know about the insane quantities of rainbow chard growing in my garden. What you don’t know (yet) is that I found an awesome way to use a bucketload of it and that way is pretty darn tasty too. You could also make this with frozen chard or frozen spinach, which is great, because it looks like I am going to have to freeze huge quantities of the chard. I just don’t see how we could get through it all by the time autumn is over. Can you believe I have cut through probably 2 pounds a week for the last 2 months (trust me, 2 pounds is a lot of chard) and I’ve still got probably 15 or 20 pounds out there in the garden! All from one tiny little packet of seeds too…. More than 30 pounds of gorgeous fresh chard for $2.49 and a little bit of work! Amazing. And because it’s in my kitchen garden I can harvest it and put it straight on the table. How’s that for fresh?

The Chard is certainly the star of the garden this summer. Maybe that’s to make up for the enormous, but sparsely fruited tomato plants and my six foot Tomatillo with lots of flowers but nary a tomatillo in sight yet and now it’s September...

This recipe looks complicated, but really isn’t. It also slices and refrigerates really well and, provided you can keep the container level, transports really well too.

If you can’t find quick grits, you can use polenta (make it thicker by using less liquid than the package calls for) or you can use coarser grits, bearing in mind that coarser grits take longer to cook. Come to think of it, you could probably also use Arborio rice.

This would make a great luncheon dish. Or potluck dish. I’ve been slicing off great slabs of it and taking it for my lunch at work. It reheats beautifully in the microwave.

For the filling:
• 1 tablespoon butter
• 2 medium onions, sliced
• 5 cloves of garlic, minced
• An enormous bunch of chard (2 to 2.5 lbs or about 15 – 20 cups roughly chopped)
• 1 teaspoon sea salt
• ½ teaspoon cracked pepper
• 50 grams (well packed 1/2 cup) grated sharp cheddar cheese
• 1 egg

For the crust:
• ½ teaspoon sea salt
• 250ml (1 cup) quick grits
• 875 ml (3.5 cups) water
• 100 grams (scant ½ cup) cream cheese
• 30 grams parmigiano reggiano, grated
• 2 eggs
• 1 teaspoon softened butter

Melt butter in the largest non-stick frying pan or wok that you own. Add onions and cook and stir over medium high heat for 3 or 4 minutes until onions start to brown and soften. Add garlic and cook and stir 2 minutes more until garlic starts to brown. Heap on the chard and press it down with a large lid. If it doesn’t all fit at once, don’t worry, as the first chard wilts there will be more room. Cover pan with a lid and reduce heat to medium low. Chard should begin to wilt and soften. Once all the chard has been wilted 5-8 minutes, uncover and continue to cook and stir until most of the liquid has evaporated, another 5 or so minutes. Remove from heat and transfer chard into a large shallow mixing bowl to cool. When chard has cooled significantly and is not much more than warm to the touch, stir through salt, pepper, cheese and egg. Set mixture aside.

Combine water, grits and salt in a medium saucepan over medium high heat and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to medium, cover the pan and cook for 5 minutes. Remove lid and stir grits thoroughly. Replace lid and remove from heat. Allow pan to sit, lidded for several minutes. Transfer grits to a mixing bowl. Chop the cream cheese into cubes and stir them into the hot grits.  Add grated reggiano and stir thoroughly. Set aside to cool for 10 minutes.

Grease a 9” springform pan with the softened butter. Preheat oven to 375F.

Crack the two eggs into a small bowl. Working quickly, pour the eggs into the hot grits and stir rapidly to combine well. Spoon 2/3 of the grits mixture into the bottom of the greased springform pan. Using the back of a large spoon, smooth the grist evenly over the bottom of the pan in a layer about 1 cm deep and mound the extra grits up around the sides of the pan. Because the pan is greased, you won’t be able to get the grits to stick to the sides very well, but that’s not really necessary, all you need is a ridge, as high as you can get it, at the edges of the pan.

Spoon the filling into the middle of the pan. Using the back of a spoon, press the filling down and out towards the sides of the pan. In this way, you can use the filling to force the mounded grits up the sides of the pan making sides to the crust. Spoon the remaining ½ of the grits on top of the even layer of filling and smooth it out across the top so that it meets the grits along the side and seals in the filling.

Bake the pie in the oven for 1 hour. If the top is not brown enough, finish it off under the broiler for 3-5 minutes.

Remove from oven and allow to cool in the pan for 15 minutes. Run a knife around the inside of the pan to loosen the pie from the sides. Remove the springform ring.

Slice carefully and serve. This slices even more beautifully when cold.