Panaderia Canadiense

Oh, please! Momo-wrapping dough: 4 C unbleached wheat flour 1 C roasted barley flour (look for either Tsampa or Machica. Tsampa should be in Asian specialty stores, and Machica in Latin American ones.)* about 1/4 to 1/2 C cold cold water (how much exactly will depend on your flours.) pinch of salt Sift the flours together with the salt, then slowly add the water, mixing with your hands until a stiff dough forms. Add about 1 tbsp more water, knead until elastic, then rest 30 minutes. Roll out quite thin (think 1/8") and cut rounds for the momos. How big depends on you; I go with about 3" diameters. I'll see if I've got the pictures for pleating them in the traditional manner, which makes them look like flower buds (I think I do have them somewhere) - if so, I'll start a thread on momos and momo-making. The technique is quite simple to learn and use, but very difficult to describe in words. * You can not and should not substitute raw barley flour here - it's horridly bitter and will ruin your dough. Tsampa / Machica are made by milling roasted barley grains, and both flours have a sweeter, nuttier flavour that is ideal for this kind of dough (and traditional as well.) If you can't find the Real McCoy, you can make your own approximation by roasting raw barley flour in the oven in a dry metal pan - the final product should be a pale mocha colour and have an engaging aroma. Stir often to ensure an even toast.

I've always looked at the shocking bath as a means of cooling and thickening the final product more quickly, but I've never noticed a difference in flavour as a result.... I use a mixture of whole cow's milk and nata (the cream from off the top of the cream) when I make it.

Stuffed bannock?? Never had that. Just the basic fried dough. What do you stuff it with? My woodland Cree friend Wendy, who taught me how to make them, swears by sweet ground venison with a hint of garlic and brown sugar, and wild blueberries. They turn out sort of like a Canadian take on pasties - which is to say, delish! When I want sweet ones, I use wild strawberries all on their own, and fold the bread into triangles before frying it. The plain fried barnbrack style bannocks are good as well, but my fave remains the stuffed.

Not Kohlrabi - I grow those and I've never had one look like that. I'd go with a young head of Puntarelle endive, myself. What does it taste like?

What about stuffed bannocks? They can also be made ahead and then ovened if you wish them hot, and it doesn't get more Canadian. Also, they're both a sweet and a savoury, depending on what you stuff them with. I'm very fond of lightly seasoned ground pork with blueberries or strawberries.

Is it horrible that my first thought on reading this thread title was "make odd-sized lamb stew..." This is exactly the type of meat I buy for Momos, a type of Nepalese/Tibetan steamed dumpling. I generally mince it myself (which means I end up with lovely chunks of bone and whatnot that I can boil up for Scotch Broth), then take that minced portion and lightly sautee in its own fat with onions, garlic, finely chopped mushrooms, and abundant hot peppers and cilantro. This gets mixed with cream cheese and a bit of breadcrumb to stiffen it up, and stuffed into barleyflour dough for steaming. Sooo yummy. I can give you a recipe with proportions for the dough if this tickles your tastebuds. The filling is pretty much always just a wingin' it kind of thing, because there's no way to guarantee a set weight of lamb from any given packet of odd-shaped meat.

That which is old is new again...? Apparently. However, seeing as how lemon pie (or any citrus pie, really) is something that's never been seen here before, maybe it's just "that which is new...."

My rolling pin and I can now confirm that the next "hot" dessert in central Ecuador is Lemon Meringue Pie....

Ah, but I can pull off the same trick. I built my computer, from the motherboard on up; I know that the parts I used came from three factories in Taiwan. And, like you, I know the origin and means of production of just about everything else, having either built it myself or fixed it at one time or another. This includes most of the tech in my kitchen - I've even rewound the motor on my Kitchenaid. (The exception to this rule, of course, is my reference library - I'll have to go on faith that it's on sustainable paper, but at any rate even if it is I've screwed my carbon footprint by dragging it halfway around the world with me. It's about 3 metric tonnes of books all told but I would never leave it behind. I'd jettison technology first. I have, however, periodically rebound some of the books myself.) There is no way that I would have been confident to move to a completely new continent without the ability to fix my own stuff if/when it broke! And you've missed my point. What I said was, and I quote: Everything that follows about how I exercise that choice is just that - my choice. I hold only myself to my standards, but I do choose to believe that if others have similar will, they too can be informed about what they buy. I wasn't arguing at all against not owning things with muddy provenance. Certain things, like, say, most computers, or even as something as simple as a telephone, will normally be coming from places far away and possibly ones that use unfair working practices. This fact, however, has to be balanced against the use value of the things to us. And we've seriously derailed. The original question here all goes back to food, and for me at least (living as I do in a food-sovereign country with strict labeling laws for import products) it's very much easier to find out where that came from and how it was produced. I buy 99% of what I eat directly from the smallholder farmers who grew it, and I've had in-depth discussions of farming technique with most of them (largely because it interests me directly and is applicable to my own garden.) Thus I can say with confidence that the carrots in my fridge (which, incidentally is parts made in Colombia and assembled in Cuenca, Ecuador, and repaired a couple of times by my own hands using parts made here) came from a farm about 10 km away, were grown with no pesticide, herbicide, or fertilizer save what the volcano saw fit to let fall, and letting the chickens out into the field to eat the bugs, and were brought in to the market in a collective truck with the produce of 20 other small farms. I can say similar things about my potatoes, and I can say that the tomatoes in my salad (well, actually, the entire salad) came from my own garden, so I know exactly how they were produced. Coming back around to the original question: how much of this has to do with honesty in food? NADA. Food is neither honest nor dishonest - that particular distinction is a purely human one, and a crappy marketing gimmick at that. This whole discussion has to do with personal choices about food and purchasing, and how we feel about said choices. The friends I brought up earlier, who think milk comes from the supermarket, are blissfully happy in their ignorance. The others, down here, who know it comes from cows, are also happy in their knowledge. Who am I to say who's right? I can only say that I prefer to know that my milk came from a cow, and that the cow was well-treated. End of story.

I think you misunderstand (or else I'm misunderstanding you). The way I read it, the naïveté lies in believing that everyone has the time, energy and desire necessary to become fully informed about this subject. Obviously, those of us who are in this forum are here because we have a specific interest in food, but a lot of people don't. For example, how many of the people in this thread can tell me the origins of all the wood in their home, both structurally and in their furniture, and whether or not it was harvested legally and sustainably? Isn't it also our responsibility as consumers to know that information? See, and I read the original quote as "you're naive if you choose to take the time to become informed," so you can see where I was playing spot the oxymoron. As far as your interpretaion, it's my opinion that becoming informed about such things is a personal choice, and it's not naive to believe that people have that choice, regardless of whether they exercise it.... Kind of like voting in North America. I personally happen to believe that it is our responsibility as consumers to know about the origins of all of the products we choose to purchase. It doesn't take that much more time out of even a busy life to stay informed (at least, not for me). I actually can tell you the origins of the wood in my house. My hard furnishings are recycled pine from international shipping crates; my soft furnishings have structures of new-growth black laurel from upper forest plantations, my floors are bamboo from plantations near Mindo, and the vigas that support the roof are chontaduro, a quick-growing hardwood palm, from plantations in Pastaza. I've also got sundry balsawood items from lowland plantations. It is all legally harvested (including the pine, which was legally cut in Canada and then recycled), apart from the pine it's all local, and it's all sustainable.

I think so, too. I have been told in the past that it "is hopelessly naive" to hold that opinion, but I still do. I'm not sure why that would be hopelessly naive. Granted, the fact that I live in the country and that there are lots of farmer's markets and a big local food movement in our area helps. I also don't think that it is possible to know the origins of everything we eat, but certainly a good percentage of it. To start with, almost all the beef we eat is from a cow that we raised, and we have most of a heritage breed locally grown hog in our freezer, and I have had enough discussions with the farmer to have a good idea what it was eating too. I think if one lived in a large city, it would be much more difficult, and would take a lot more work. I'd also have a hard time thinking that keeping oneself informed is naive. Seems to me it's the direct opposite. Granted, I live in a country where there's no such thing as a city far removed from agriculture - even Quito, a city of 3 million, still has farmland in it.

For my 2 cents (and holy is this ever a polemic topic), food in and of itself can't be honest or dishonest. It simply is. Marketing honesty in connection with our meals is simply that - marketing. Until we reach that Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy point of being able to actually converse with our food before we eat it, that is. ( )On the other hand, knowing where your food came from is something that ultimately comes down to education. I have friends up in Canada who think that milk comes from a supermarket, but down here where it's more common to buy your milk directly from a farmer, everybody knows it comes from a cow. It's our own responsibility as consumers to know about the origins of our food and to educate ourselves as best as we can in order to make informed decisions. Of course those are always going to be biased, but that's part of being human, isn't it?

If you like, I can try sending you a bottle of it. Ecuador Post is very reliable, but I'm not sure if it would pass customs in the US. And I also have to apologize - I should have said "there's a place for the cane aguardientes as well." Pisco and other grape or fruit-based spirits clearly don't belong with the rums. The Ecuadorian agaurdientes in particular are a breed unto their own - they're internally regulated cane-sugar based spirits (there are actually a fairly strict number of rules governing the commercial brands), and depending on the area of the country where the cane was grown, they each have different and distinct characters. Ron Estelar, which is one of my personal all-time favourites, is from cane grown on the coastal plains. This gives it a distinct and slightly fruity bouquet; panela (raw cane sugar) is added at some stage of the ferment to give it the distinctive gold colour that would (in a true rum) come from molasses, and the panela also adds its own unique flavours to the mix. The result is aged 3 years in oak barrels in warehouses on the equator line. Probably the strongest of our neat aguardientes is Zhumir de Paute Puro, which is about 35% and unflavoured; I'd class it with the better Cachaças. The same distillery used to produce a truly superior reposado, but it seems to have vanished from the market (much to my dismay).

I've found that crushed mint springs at the doorways and windows work better than hot pepper powder for deterring ants; salt and beer are both effective against slugs, and a little olive oil goes a long way to silencing squeaky hinges.

I'd use it. If it still smells and tastes (pinch) fine, then it's fine.

I'd add that I was taught that coffee cakes are less sweet in their dough than dessert cakes, and of a denser crumb (usually). ETA - I was also taught that coffee cakes don't ever have "heavy" icings like buttercream. At most they should have a milk glaze or hard, thin sugar icing.

Ok, Cap'n. Where would you class the South American Aguardiente Reposado? Since you include Cachaças in your listings there's clearly a place for the aguardientes as well (which are produced in a similar manner). For example, Ron Estelar Añejo, (not listed in your rather comprehensive menu) which is a 3-year oak-barrel aged aguardiente from Ecuador. It's similar in character to the Cuban rums, but I find (and this is my own palate talking) that there's a great deal more subtlety and complexity of flavour than say, Havana Club or Bacardi Gold, and there's no way that I'd class the Reposados with the Agricoles, although both are produced in the same manner.... Opinion?

Chai. I'd consider black cardamoms to be absolutely essential to a perfect cup of strong, spicy chai. Other than that, they're quite good in marinades for things you'll later either grill over charcoal or smoke.

There's an easy way to test that. Do your KFCs offer plates that include 1-2 pieces of chicken, green salad, and menestra (lentils or red beans in their own gravy)? If so, then the menus are standard worldwide. If not, then there are differing menus for different countries.

For me, it's the charcoal grill all the way, with 6-8" pieces of sausage on skewers. They start out with whole casings, but once they're good and hot I cut slits in them to let some of the grease out and allow them to expand a bit. They're done when there's a bit of char on them. Then again, the only sausage I eat is Ambato-style chorizo.... I doubt my method would work with breakfast bangers.

OMG, Kouign Aman, I must remember the horseradish banana for next time I'm in a kitchen situation with a lunch stealer. The smartenin' up bunny raisinettes were a lot of work, but the screams of disgust from the theiving dishwasher (it's how we figured out she was the responsable party) were more than worth it. I've also left aji-pepper truffles out for snotty waitstaff, but they paled in comparison, really.

OMG, recipe, recipe!

Real Pumpernickel or Dark Marbled Rye. Oh, and a plane ticket and an invite.

The best one I've ever done was to a kitchen member who used to rob from everybody's lunches and private stashes of stuff. I went to a friend's house, picked up a half pound of nice, dry bunny droppings, then chocolate coated them like raisinettes and packed them into a fancy-shmancy little cellophane baggie with a ribbon and left them in plain sight. Yeah, they never pinched anything from another lunch.

I've eaten quite a bit of reptile and amphibian, quite a bit of it I now realize simply out of adventurousness. However, there are some things I absolutely lurve. Frog's Legs: slow-baked in dry-white-wine wild-mushroom cream sauce with plenty of garlic, and served over wild rice. Perfection. Equis: this is a pit-viper known to English speakers as Fer-de-Lance, which is common in Ecuador's drier forests; consequently, I tend to eat it when hiking. It's safer to behead these nasties than it is to leave them on or near the trail (they're not sweet-tempered), so the thing to do is to (quickly) whack off the head, then clean the snake and hang it by the tail to drain. Once it's stopped dripping it can be packed into your gather-basket in a wrapping of palm fronds until you make camp. The snake is coiled, skin-on, and encased in river mud, then laid over the coals of the campfire. It's ready when the clay breaks open to let the steam out, and the clay will also skin the beast for you. The meat is flaky like freshwater whitefish, tender, and has a flavour similar to pheasant - the only thing really needed is a couple of drops of hot sauce. Thinking about it, all of the best snakes I've eaten have been vipers of one sort or another cooked this way; I'd expect that it would do good things for rattlesnake and copperhead, although I've only ever had South American species. Anaconda: I've had this cut into salmon-style steaks and grilled over charcoal (not bad), and en Maito, which is steamed wrapped in Canna leaves with yuca and taro root, shredded palm hearts, and garlic. The Maito was awesome. Turtles: I was once served a soup of 2" diameter soft-shell snapping turtles in sancocho broth. It wasn't bad, but I wouldn't eat it again if I saw it on a menu - I finished the bowl more out of politeness than anything. Sancocho without turtles, on the other hand, I'll eat anytime.