carswell

The thing that struck me as odd was the frying of ground spices (and coriander at that) at the start of cooking, a technique I associate above all with Indian cuisine. Also, no one on this board or in the other recipes for this soup that I've seen has suggested using anything other than fresh coriander. Hence my curiosity.

But using pitted cherries is blasphemy for traditionalists. Are you blowing hot and cold with the same breath? Preferring to share the labour as well as the flavour and wanting to avoid even the slight possibility of a soggy clafoutis, I rarely pit. But when I do, before using them in the dish, I sprinkle the cherries with a bit of kirsch and roast them for around 10 minutes, cool them and save any juices they've extruded (a great addition to sauces, vinegars or whipped cream for topping the clafoutis). By the same token, most Americans shouldn't be making clafoutis at all, since the traditional recipe calls for black, not red, cherries, which one rarely sees on this side of the pond. In any case, the French are as guilty as anyone when it comes to using other fruits and even vegetables in the dish. My livres de cuisine are full of non-traditional clafoutis recipes, some of which are really quite good. One of my favourites involves replacing half the cherries with far more affordable rhubarb.

What would be the point? Isn't vanilla all about flavour?

Have you actually tried these in recipes, Gary? I ask because I detest black licorice and, while I wouldn't be caught dead drinking Pernod, I've come to enjoy it in many recipes (bouillabaisse, shrimp with Pernod, vanilla ice cream with Pernod and black pepper, etc.) when used in moderation. Ditto star anise. Can't think of a universal substitute. Why don't you list some specific recipes?

Not imported by the SAQ and so not available legally. There's said to be a black market. I use fino sherry. Tamir bi loz? Have you tried Middle Eastern stores like Adonis? Lately cello-wrapped trays of dates with assorted fillings (pistachio, orange, etc.) have appeared at upscale food stores like Exofruits and, IIRC, Latina. They're pretty easy to make yourself, and a lot cheaper too.

The extension is great. I've been about a dozen times and am still being surprised. Don't see why beer wouldn't work. Let us know what you do and how it turns out.

Sorry about the typo. But, yes, prior to cooking. After my first few attempts at removing the membrane from the raw meat, I considered leaving it on but decided not to for reasons aesthetic and nutritional (some ugly fat was attached; the skinned meat is quite lean). Also, not removing it would have prevented me from browning one side (i.e. half) of each medallion-shapped piece, and I suspected that, as with most veal stews, good browning would be key to developing flavour. In the interest of science, I guess I should have left a cheek or two au naturel. Oh, well, next time. edit: By the way, membrane may not be the best word to describe something that was, in places, as thick as leather and about as tough as Kelvar. I see Emeril calls it "silverskin" in the recipe that dls linked to.

Drat! Sorry to have missed it. But thanks for checking it out, anachemia, and for delurking to keep us from making a useless schlepp.

Agree that red wine or even Marsala would risk eclipsing their delicate flavour, though not their melting texture. I prepared them much as planned: I browned about 1½ pounds of trimmed cheeks in a mixture of butter and oil, set them aside, and sautéed a mirepoix of onion, carrot and celery (50-25-25) in the remaining fat. When the veggies began to colour, I returned the cheeks to the pan along with two crushed canned plum tomatoes, two crushed and peeled garlic cloves and a bouquet garni (parsley stems, thyme sprigs, a small sprig of rosemary, 2 fresh bay leaves, 6 juniper berries, 10 peppercorns and 4–5 fennel seeds), sprinkled everything with salt, poured in about 2/3 cup each of white wine and veal stock and brought the liquid to a boil. After turning the heat to low, I covered the pan and simmered until the meat was tender, a bit over 2 hours. At that point, I removed the cheeks, strained the sauce, returned the meat and sauce to the pan and corrected the seasoning. Don't know which was better, the taste or the cut-it-with-a-spoon texture. And, if anything, the leftovers were even more delicious. Yukon golds mashed with stinky Pied-de-Vent cheese were a wonderful rich accompaniment. It was also clear that, as many recipes suggest, polenta would work well too. Dinner was late, however, because it took me far longer than anticipated to remove the silvery membrane from each cheek. Even with newly sharpened Henckels, gaining a purchase on the slippery meat was difficult. And each cheek seemed to require a different approach: slicing, shaving, prying, etc. Am surprised I didn't cut myself in the process which, with the occasional break, took nearly two hours to complete. Though it went faster toward the end, I'd still love to see how a chef does this. The other surprise was the amount of waste: the pile of trimings was almost as big as the pile of trimmed cheeks. Still, they were good enough that I'll be making them again. Thanks to all who replied.

They were C$4.99 a kilo. Given the high amount of prep time and waste, I understand the price better now, though they're still a best buy. Yes, it's the Veau de Charlevoix store in the north wing, between the organic pork store and Le Tartarin. If you don't see them in the refrigerator compartment, ask one of the clerks; they may have others in back. Oh, and for some reason they call them bajoues, not joues.

Thanks to all who contributed to this thread. Made the soup for the first time ever on Monday and am sure there are many more batches in my future. Earthy but lemon bright, filling but not heavy, good hot, good cold and best two days later. A bowl and a half with a couple of slices of country bread followed by a cup of yogurt drizzled with honey and a handful of Iranian dates made a fully satisfying and healthy meal. I mainly followed zeitoun's recipe with a few changes inspired by a similar recipe (Shorbet Adds bil Hamud) in Claudia Roden's The New Book of Middle Eastern Food. Sauté 1 medium onion, chopped, in 2 tablespoons olive oil until it begins to brown. Add 2 cloves garlic, finely chopped, and stir for 2–3 minutes. Add 2 cups green lentils, picked over and rinsed, and 10 cups stock or water (I used half canned chicken stock and half water). Bring to a boil and add the chopped stalks from 1 large bunch of swiss chard. Partly cover and simmer for 10 minutes. Add 3 medium boiling potatoes, peeled and cut into 1/4-inch cubes, and simmer 10 minutes more. Add the chard leaves, cut into ribbons. Simmer 10–15 minutes or until tender. Thin with water, if necessary, and season to taste with salt. Meanwhile, heat 1/4 cup olive oil and 1 medium onion, finely chopped, in a skillet over medium low heat. When the onion turns translucent, add 4–5 medium garlic cloves, finely chopped, and 1/3–1/2 cup cilantro leaves, finely chopped. Raise heat to medium and cook, stirring occasionally, until the garlic begins to colour. Remove from heat, cool a few minutes, and stir in the juice of 2 large lemons. Add to the soup just before serving. Roden, whose book I respect but don't love, suggests using brown lentils, not green. She starts by sautéing onion and garlic (as I did above, though she uses more) and adds the cilantro along with the spinach/chard leaves. Her sauce, which she calls takleya, omits onions and is made by frying 8–10 crushed garlic cloves in 4 tablespoons olive oil with 4 tablespoons ground coriander. (I've adjusted the quantities to fit my recipe.) Any comments on the authenticity of this approach?

Nope. Aam Mutton Adapted from The Indian Epicure by Meera Taneja (long out of print) Peel and grate 3 large underripe mangoes. Mince a thumb-sized piece of ginger, 3 cloves garlic and 3 red chiles with 1 tablespoon of the grated mango. Mix the rest of the mango with 4 tablespoons yogurt and set aside. Heat 1 tablespoon of ghee, butter or oil in a nonreactive dutch oven and fry the ginger masala for 1 minute. Add 2 green cardamons (hulled) and a 2-inch stick of cinnamon and fry while stirring for another minute. Add 1 pound cubed mutton or lamb and fry until browned on all sides, 5–10 minutes. Sprinkle with 1/2 teaspoon tumeric and salt to taste. Add the mango-yogurt mixture and stir well to blend. Reduce heat to very low, cover and cook until the meat is tender. Transfer to a serving dish and sprinkle with chopped cliantro leaves.

Aam mutton (mutton being hard to come by, I usually make it with mature lamb). It's a Pujabi stew of lamb shoulder, grated underripe mangos, yogurt and spices. The mangos nearly dissolve and their acidity is a fine foil for the fatty lamb. If you'd like details, say the word.

Saeco machines are, generally speaking, no better or worse than other machines of their type. Have you read CoffeeGeek's consumer reviews or detailed review of the Via Veneto? Saeco Canada is said to have lousy customer support (see here, for example), though buying the machine from an espresso specialist instead of a department store will insulate you from that. A few years ago the owner of a kitchen supply store told me the repair rate on their low-end Saecos was higher than on other brands; don't know if that's true today. In the end, it depends on how close you want to come to the perfect espresso, the elusive god shot, and how hard you're willing to work at it. The Saeco machines offer convenience but, since they give you little control over the espresso making process and cover their and your failings with pressurized portafilters and foam enhancers, your chances of producing something excellent are slim. You're more likely to end up with a facsimile espresso. For lots of people, that's good enough. Only you can say whether it's good enough for you. In North America, with a few blessed exceptions, being a barista is akin to working at McDonald's. In Italy, it's a vocation. The American barista pushes a button; can't tell you what beans are in the blend or how old they are; looks at you like you're speaking Martian when you ask for a ristretto or macchiato. The Italian (and serious American) grinds beans for each cup; adjusts the grind a notch because the humidity has dropped a bit; throws out the first shot because the pull was a couple of seconds short, the machine was too hot, the stream wasn't tiger striping or it just didn't feel right. It's kind of a fast food vs. slow food thing. And guess who makes better espresso. If you intend to make espressos, as opposed to milk-based drinks like lattes and cappuccinos (milk hides a multitude of sins), don't get a machine with a pressurized portafilter (unless it can be easily and inexpensively replaced) or one that doesn't let you control variables like shot timing. And why don't you do a little comparison shopping? Head to some of Little Italy's espresso emporia (Lino, Café Union, Café Crème, Faema, etc.) and have them pull you a shot, if possible on a machine in your price range. Then get someone to pull you a shot on a Saeco. If you're happy with it, you've got your answer.

One of the reasons the Sylvia is so popular with coffee geeks is that it uses a lot of commerical machine-grade parts. Of course, the heating elements (110, not 220), water supply (pour-over, not plumbed-in) and pump (vibrating not rotating) are not commercial grade. Which gives rise to techniques like temperature surfing and PIDing (they're not called geeks for nothing). Another reason to be wary of low-end Saeco machines: most of them come with a so-called pressurized portafilter, which produces an ersatz crema even if you use stale beans, the wrong grind and wrong temperature water. Crema is one of the signs of a well-made espresso, so making it impossible to tell when you obtain it is not a good thing. Saeco's not the only offender in this category; low-end Solis and Le Pavoni pump machines also feature the abomination. Similarly, many low-end machines, including the Saecos, come with a foam "enhancer" on the steam wand, making it easy to produce foamy milk with no technique. Unfortunately, the bubbles are too big so the texture's never right and latte art is impossible. On some machines, you can remove the enhancer; on others, you're stuck with it.

Jean-Talon Market's Le marché des saveurs has begun selling imported cheese. The woman behind the counter said they decided to stock Parmesan because they get requests for it every day and because nothing similar is being made in Quebec. They'll also stock one or two other cheeses with no Quebec analogues. For example, the raw milk Fort des Rousses Comté that I brought home with me, the best Comté I've found in Montreal. Ça vaut le détour. Chez Louis has a new crop of the delicious Philibon melons at a sticker-shocking $10 each. They also have the Tarocco blood oranges from Italy. Sunkist-brand Moro blood oranges have just about pushed the superior Taroccos off the shelves. The Moros may be cheaper, firmer and redder but they're often unpleasantly tart and musky. Taroccos win on flavour hands-down; in fact, they're the most popular orange in Italy. Yet another example of North America's agrifood industry preferring appearance over taste?

It turns out that Latina, the upscale grocer on St-Viateur, makes their own confit. The ingredients are traditional — duck leg, duck fat, sea salt, pepper, garlic, thyme and bay leaf — though, at 160 g, my leg obviously didn't come from a moulard. Individually cryovaced, the legs go for $5.99. The cooking instructions are odd: "5 minutes in a preheated 375ºF oven, skin side up." You have to wonder whether the time isn't missing a digit. I opted for 20 minutes at 375ºF. There was little fat in the package or, after heating, in the baking dish. The skin didn't crisp. The meat was red brownish, dense and a bit stringy. Though there was little in the way of succulence and not a hint of that prized satiny texture, the taste was savoury, ducky and just salty enough. Pretty good QPR overall, especially those days when you don't feel like hiking down to Anjou-Québec. My side was a quick take on the Quercy-style potatoes mentioned above. I peeled and cubed a couple of russets but didn't parboil or rinse them. They were coated with duck fat and roasted about 35 minutes, then transferred to a bowl and tossed with coarse sea salt and minced parsley and garlic. Not bad but not worthy of being mentioned in the same breath as the genuine article. I slaked my thirst with a couple of glasses of Clos de la Briderie 2003 ($17.50), a blend of cabernet franc, malbec (aka côt) and gamay, from the Loire appellation Touraine-Mesland. Always a good buy, the wine was exceptionally dense and fruity in 2003, an extremely hot year that from all reports produced atypically flabby whites (chenin blanc and sauvignon blanc) in the region. Based on this sample (my first 2003), I'm really looking forward to trying other reds, especially Chinons. In any case, the Briderie made a better-than-OK pairing with the duck, something you probably wouldn't say in most years. Latina www.chezlatina.com 185 St-Viateur West 514 273-6561

Me, too. But for this dish I found Barilla's 13 minutes right on the money. I switched to Barilla five or six years ago and, as far as I know, the fusilli's recommended cooking time has never been anything other than 13 minutes. In other words, if they're taking seasonal variation into account, it's a new thing. Yes, I learned that on another discussion group. It's one of the things that got me wondering. As I said, it's not just a cooking time thing. Though I didn't do a side-by-side comparison, the new stuff tastes more North American. I suspect mislabelling. De Cecco used to be my everyday brand. Then I did some "test kitchen" comparisons and came down in favour of Barilla. Neighbourhood stores don't stock artisanal pasta, unfortunately, though I often pick some up when in Little Italy. Rustichella d'Abruzzo is my preferred brand these days. Will keep an eye peeled for Pasta Setaro.

Made one of my go-to pasta recipes, fusilli with tuna and capers, the other day. Though there was nothing unusual about the preparation, the eating experience was another story. Not only was the pasta cooked beyond al dentetude, it was bland beyond recognition. Why, I wondered. I remembered setting the timer at the standard 13 minutes. I had opened a new box of Barilla fusili, however, so I went and looked at it. Ah, ha! Cooking time: 11 minutes. I fished the empty box from the recycling bin. Cooking time: 13 minutes. They've changed my pasta! The new box still claims to be Product of Italy but, even when cooked 11 minutes, it's more like Canadian pasta in taste and texture, not a Good Thing. Anyone else notice this change? Anyone know what's up with Barilla? Me, I've switched to De Cecco.

The Jean-Talon Market is one of the jewels in Montreal's gastronomic crown. A new extension that opened in December houses a slew of interesting shops: an olive and spice merchant; the city's best ice cream maker; a Polish bakery with incredible prune-filled donuts; a smoked fish shop; two organic butchers; a raw-milk cheese shop; a cookbook store; a cooking supplies store; etcetera; and a shop devoted to sale of veal and lamb from the Charlevoix, the beautiful mountainous region down river from Quebec City. Not only did they have veal cheeks, they're practically giving them away: 2½ pounds cost me all of US$5. Will report on what I did with them and how they turned out.

I second the idea of transferring leftover wine to a smaller container and, in fact, have a collection of screwcapped bottles of various sizes reserved for this purpose. I also recommend using Private Preserve or equivalent product to cover the wine's surface with an layer of inert gas. Once gassed, the bottle goes in the fridge where it will keep for, well, I don't know how long since I usually finish off the wine in a week or two. Freezing is another good way to retard oxidation. Just make sure you leave plenty of headspace in the bottle for the frozen wine to expand into. I use this technique for leftover wine I intend to cook with but it's also fine for wines you plan to drink (well, maybe not your leftover '49 Lafite...). The flavour is affected little if at all. Freezing will cause some heavy red wines to throw a sediment, however.

Um... everything? To start with, the matrix is uninteresting. It lacks depth, with only a couple of flavours at play, which would be OK if it was a foil for something bursting with flavour, i.e. something the exact opposite of rice. As it is, the rice is a letdown. It's white on white. Boredom in a bowl. "Too sweet" is just a failed attempt to hide the intrinsic lack of flavour. The problem's the same with bread pudding but it's compounded by that sponge-oozy texture. Often too sweet, too. Savoury bread puddings are better, but there's still no escaping that they're glorified milktoast. YMMV, of course, and obviously does.

One of the most popular dishes at the Montreal bistro Le P'tit Plateau is venison grilled rare and served with a zingy reduction sauce. The chef, Alain Loivel, once described it to me in vague terms. Here's my adaptation; measurements are approximate because I've always played it by ear. Can vouch for its compatability with venison, caribou and duck and snow goose breasts; don't see why it wouldn't work with beef. Pour a bottle of fruity, not highly acidic and preferably unoaked red wine into a sauté pan. Add whole "warm" spices of your choosing; I typically use a few cloves, a star anise, a cinnamon stick and a few cardamon pods and sometimes throw in a dried chile pepper or two. Bring to a boil and reduce until thick (i.e. by 3/4 to 7/8). Strain and set aside. Put 2 or 3 tablespoons of sugar in a saucepan, add 3 tablespoons each of sherry vinegar and water and bring to a boil. Boil off the liquid over medium heat. Watching constantly and tilting the pan occasionally, allow the sugar to caramelize. As soon as the caramel turns golden, remove the pan from the heat and pour in the red wine reduction. Stir to dissolve. Although Chef Loivel doesn't, you can mount the sauce with butter if you find it too sharp; otherwise, it's fat free. Another wine reduction sauce I've made involves combining equal quantities of duck stock and "sweet" wine from Southwest France (e.g. Loupiac, Croix-St-Mont, Pacherenc du Vic Bihl), tossing in some chopped shallots and carrots and a bouquet garni (parsley, bay, thyme, white peppercorns), and reducing until syrupy. Strain, correct seasoning and serve. You wouldn't serve this with filet mignon, of course, but it's great with a seared scallop of foie gras atop some caramelized apple slices or drizzled around a pile of roasted wild mushrooms topped with slices of seared pepper-encrusted tuna.

Just scored some beautiful veal cheeks for tomorrow's dinner. It will be the first time I've cooked the tasty tidbits. Was thinking of a simple braise (browned in butter with aromatic vegetables like leeks, carrots and a bit of celery; flavoured with thyme, bay, juniper and a soupçon of garlic; braised in white wine and veal stock for a couple of hours) but wondered if anyone had a knockout preparation or useful advice to share. Am surprised not to find a single recipe in my nearly 200 cookbooks or on epicurious, Recipe Source, etc. I plan to cut the cheeks into large pieces and know they need to be carefully trimmed of fat and gristle. Beef cheek recipes often call for a 24-hour marinade, but is that necessary with cheeks from a young animal? By the way, my frame of reference is French: a bottle of youngish red Burgundy will be poured and the sides will be a wild mushroom ragout and Yukon Golds mashed with Pied-de-Vent cheese.

Neither hot nor cold. Not to rain on the parade, but I have yet to encounter a rice pudding — even the rare ones that were properly cooked — that was anything other than utterly, irredeemably banal. Ditto bread pudding. Such a waste of otherwise wonderful ingredients. I'll crawl back under my rock now...