Nyleve Baar

There is a bakery in Ottawa - called the Middle East Bakery, funny enough - on Somerset where they make the most addictive and delicious pita with zaatar that I have ever had. The pita is big, flat and soft and the zaatar is baked right into the topping with olive oil. I used to have a friend who supplied my habit, but we've lost touch and now I have to either find another friend or live without it. I think that I will try baking a flat bread with a zaatar topping - even something focaccia-like would be awesome.

I posted on the other thread about this but it's worth repeating. Clean the fiddleheads well, then cook in 1 (or preferably 2) changes of boiling water before sauteing (or whatever). It's the only vegetable I boil - but if you don't do that they can have this funny bitterness which I'm not sure but might not be good for you. Just bring water to a boil, throw in fiddleheads, bring back to a boil and drain. Repeat. Water will go quite black. After that - butter, ramps - enjoy. Waiting for ours to pop - it's been very very cold up here in Ontario.

In thinking about this, I have come to several possible conclusions: 1. The chef over-thought the meal. I do this all the time, so why would a chef be immune to this kind of thing? You invite someone to dinner who you KNOW knows their food. So you don't want to take on anything too ambitious - you want to stay pure and simple - good ingredients handled deftly but not pretentiously. Unfortunately, sometimes it just comes off being plain. Not just simple but downright ordinary. If not worse. Perhaps this chef was actually intimidated by a group of chefs, writers and food professionals and he just tried to look like he wasn't trying. 2. I prefer peasant food. I already know this. Not that this meal was ultra-refined (if I ever get served anything with "foam" I will simply have to leave the table) but, it's true, it was subtle. I like food that jumps off the plate and grabs me around the neck. With all the wonderful food I ate when I was in Italy, my favourite meal was in a tiny restaurant on top of a mountain where everything was cooked on a big open hearth and served family-style. It was absolutely peasant food - and I loved it. 3. It was too large a group to allow the dishes to be top notch when served. The aforementioned risotto, for one. And the rhubarb crisp too. But there was no excuse for the silly salad. I am willing to give him another chance. But there are so many good places to eat, it could be a while before I get around to doing that.

First of all, no, I'm not going to give you any hint as to where I ate, and which chef this was - not even what city. I don't wish to get into the particulars of his (yes, it's a his - that's all you're getting ) style and/or reputation. I was there on a professional basis - not as a critic or reviewer - but would prefer not to name names. Really, the truth is it has no bearing on my comments anyway. First of all, yes he was definitely there. In fact, he introduced each dish personally, after the sommelier described the wines. He even gave his reasons for choosing the particular dishes - and explained how we were to approach them. I was extremely optimistic, I have to tell you. After all, we were a group of culinary professionals so I expected that he'd have been trying to put on a good show. But the fact is that most of the food was nothing special and some of it wasn't very good at all. I don't presume in any way to compare myself to a professional chef. I couldn't run a restaurant kitchen if my life depended on it - nor would I want to. I know it's a whole other thing altogether than a home kitchen. I guess I was just expressing my disappointment that I was not blown away by the quality of the cooking. I wanted to be - really I did. There was one dish that I couldn't have made - some sort of stuffed rabbit thing which was very good - but it was served with a classic risotto that I do better at home. Risotto is not a difficult dish - but I realize it's hard to pull off in a restaurant in large quantities - and perhaps that was the problem. I think there were about 50 of us. For some of the other dishes, there really was no excuse - they were just poorly conceived and/or executed. You're right - maybe he's a victim of hype. Maybe it was the group thing. I should go back and eat in the regular dining room. Now I'm curious. Maybe I will.

Until now, I've always argued with my husband when we go out to eat. He says, "You can cook better than this," and I would say "I'm just glad to have someone else cook for a change." I didn't truly think that my cooking was better than a really good restaurant. My experience with expensive restaurants is pretty limited, to be honest. So I believed that out there was a world of excellent cooking - and when I had the chance to try it, I would be impressed. Last night's meal was a revelation. I was not impressed. I could have done it. The revered chef, I hate to say it, is just a good cook. You're right about the price/value non-correlation. I have eaten incredibly well for pennies (usually when travelling) and quite boringly for lots of money.

I'm feeling a bit disturmished this morning. Went out to a food and wine pairing event last night which was held at a very hot restaurant (will not disclose name) run by a very hot chef (ditto). It is famed for the inventiveness of the cooking and this chef has a really good reputation. There were several small dishes paired with appropriate wines. I had never been there before so I was quite excited. Sigh. I was totally underwhelmed by the food. (The wines were outstanding - but that's neither here nor there.) The event was specially designed for a private group of food professionals. The dishes were, in my opinion, either silly or ill conceived and frankly, I could have done better myself. I'm not saying they didn't taste good but, well, here's an example: starter of wild leeks and morels in a marrow sauce (more a broth, really) intended to be served on thin triangular crackers. It tasted fine, but the leeks were left in long pieces and it was difficult to eat on the cracker without the whole thing crumbling apart, leaving you with a leek hanging out of your mouth. And the morels, well, I personally pick morels and these morels didn't have either the flavour or texture I'd have expected. If I were a suspicious person I'd think they were dried or frozen morels. Other courses followed. One was a salad which was a pile of mixed greens incarcerated in a prison of multicoloured raw carrot sticks and radish chunks. The large pieces of carrot and radish had to be picked up in the fingers to be eaten, and didn't appear to have a relationship with the greens. No dressing - just salt, not to interfere with wine I guess (but I'd have liked a little drizzle of oil, at least). And the dessert was simply poor. It was a rhubarb crisp that appeared on the plate in a soggy puddle. A crisp should not ever be a puddle. It was served with a fairly nice ice cream, which I would have enjoyed on its own. So what's wrong with me? Or was it not me? I don't think the chef was simply having an off day - I think that this was entirely intentional (maybe not the dessert, though). Do you think that he just got carried away and over-thought the meal in an effort to impress? Or am I missing something here? I am not a trained professional cook - just a competent home cook who writes about food. Does my ability to cook well at home destroy my appreciation for restaurant food? Has this happened to other people? Was I being too critical? This whole thing left me quite depressed.

If I'm going to be doing two boils, I'll usually just bring it to a full boil once, drain, throw into a second pot of boiling water and boil for 2 or 3 minutes. True - the texture is good if you don't overcook. Fiddleheads are just about the only vegetable I boil - everything else gets steamed. The boiling really helps remove the bitterness (it's almost like tannin or that funny feeling you get on your teeth when you eat spinach).

Ramps are up, fiddleheads are taking their time. It's been quite cold here in so. Ontario so they're running late this year. They're usually up by Mothers Day (my traditional M. Day activity) but not sure it will happen this year - doesn't look promising. Anyway - advice on cooking. Fiddleheads really should be boiled in one (or pref.) two changes of water before sauteeing lightly in butter or adding to another dish. The water will turn black. The par boiling removes bitterness and any aforementioned unhealthy chemicals. It also removes any leftover bits of brown skin.I have a gorgeous photo of a strainer full of some fiddleheads (last year's) but I can't figure out how to post it. I am such a neanderthal.

A DRYWALL HATCHET??? Well, maybe. But only as a last resort, I'd think.

Must be time for another story. This time it wasn't at someone else's house...it was mine. I was reminded of this just the other day - by my son, because it's Passover. But I'm getting ahead of myself. We used to keep ferrets. Two. Horrible, horrible animals. But I had children who loved them, so we had ferrets. NORMAL people keep ferrets in cages, but not us. We kept them, well, anywhere they wanted to be. Basically they had the run of the house. They were semi-litter trained in that they would occasionally go in any one of the ten or so litter boxes we had all over the house. Or else they might go in the corner of the den. Whatever. Likewise the ferret sleeping arrangements. Wherever, whenever. You never knew when you'd open your, say, underwear drawer and there would be Slinky - blinking sleepily against the light. Or else it might be your dishtowel drawer. Which brings me to the Passover story. I make a delicious, irresistible banana walnut cream roll for Passover every year. Anyone who has made a rolled cake knows that you turn the cake out onto a dishtowel, roll it up until it is cool, then unroll, fill, and re-roll. WHich is precisely what I did. Unfortunately, unbeknownst to myself, Slinky had taken to sleeping in the dishtowel drawer in recent weeks and all the dishtowels were covered with ferret fur. You know where this is going already, don't you? It was my son who noticed it first. I tried, desperately, to pick the fur out of the cake but it wasn't possible considering it had been rolled up with the cream filling in it and all. So I just dusted the whole thing HEAVILY with icing sugar and didn't say a word. The kids didn't touch dessert that night, and neither did I. Fortunately, I mean, tragically the ferrets are no longer with us. But that Banana Roll Cake is now forever called Ferret Roll and we don't tell anyone why.

These photos are from last fall's auction. Will update with fresh photos on Monday, if there's anything worth looking at. So far I have a shopping list that includes a peacock and several bantam barred rocks. (I hope this works, I've not pasted a link here before...) http://raabranchphotos.photosite.com/ChickenAuction/

Interesting. These are definitely NOT silkies they're talking about. Our silkies have blue-black skin and are generally the type sold in Asian markets as black chickens. But the eggs that our silky hens lay are just plain old normal whitish colour. The small silkies lay little wee eggs, the bigger ones lay, well, bigger eggs. But none of them are jade green. I am going to a chicken auction on Sunday (hooray!) and I will look into this more thoroughly. Have never seen any chickens sold as layers of jade green eggs. Pastel bluish greenish yes - those are araucanas, and we have some - but nothing more exotic than that. Will report findings (if any) on Monday.

Just recently figured out how to do grilled artichokes after coming into the motherlode of giant artichokes in the clearance rack of a large supermarket. They were huge and nearly as perfect as the ones they had in the regular bins. So, obviously I had to buy them all. Snipped off the prickly tips of the leaves, took a slice off the top of each one so that it would look all tidy and neat, trimmed the stem slightly where it was dry. Steamed them until tender (standing up in a steamer basket) then cut the artichokes in half lengthwise and scooped out the hairy choke (it came out really easily). Marinated in olive oil, balsamic vinegar, salt and pepper. Then grilled on both sides until charred - it only took about 10 minutes. They were fantastic and didn't need any dipping sauce or anything more than an extra sprinkle of salt. I think I have found my perfect artichoke dish. Son's girlfriend wouldn't even touch one, never mind eat it. I'm not sure I like her.

Jade eggs, shmade eggs. We keep silkies in our flock and their eggs are just exactly like all the other eggs. If they have any special nutritional value then I guess it must be invisible because they certainly don't look any different.

So many bad meals. How to choose which to describe? I'll start with my husband. He wasn't my husband at the time, and really, I should have run away - far away - after that meal. But I was madly, stupidly in love. I was also about 3-1/2 hours away from any form of civilization and it was winter and I didn't want to get back in the car. George was living as a reclusive artist out in the woods. Every once in a while he would drive down to the city and take all the expired TV dinners from his sister's freezer and drive back home with them. First of all, they were expired. Second of all, they were TV dinners and third of all it was a 3-1/2 hour drive so by the time he got them home they were thawed. Of course he'd just pop them back into the freezer, so now they were not only expired, but also potentially lethal. But why nitpick when you've got free food, right? So one Friday I drove up - in a snowstorm - to spend a romantic weekend with him. He was waiting for me with dinner. (Cue the scary music...) George had heated up all the TV dinners in the freezer and suggested that we just pick the parts we liked out of all of them. I didn't like any of the parts. The worst of the lot was the salisbury steak which was greyish and perfectly oval. We both looked at it, then George stood up from the table, got a hammer and a nail and he nailed it to the wall. It stayed there - completely intact and unchanged - for 2 years. By that time we'd married and I didn't have the heart to take it down. Eventually we moved it outside to a tree where a brave squirrel ate it, we think. I hope it didn't die.