carswell

It absolutely is worth going out of your way. Only when they are closed do I buy elsewhere and I regret it each time. Thanks, Anthony. That's all I needed to know. Will be going out of my way soon. Real soon. Business hours: 9 a.m. to 7 p.m. Tuesday-Saturday; 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. Sunday; closed Monday.

Flitting around the Web, I ran across a post from an out-of-towner who seemed knowledgable about Middle Eastern food and the Montreal food scene. After stating that Montreal was North America's best city for Middle Eastern cooking (not the first time I've heard this claim made) and expressing regret at having found no local equivalent to Alep and Daou, he said that Pâtisserie Mahrouse (1010 de Liège West corner of L'Acadie, 514 279-1629) makes baklawas that are not only Montreal's finest but "arguably the best in the western hemisphere." Never been, never even heard of it. Have any of you eGulleters sampled their wares? Is it worth going out of one's way for?

High summer at the Jean-Talon market on Sunday. Lots of favas (gourganes), berries (though I didn't see any wild blueberries), gorgeous cauliflowers and the season's first field tomatoes. Many stalls selling local corn on the cob, nearly all of them advertising it as très sucré; funny how what used to be an inducement is now, in this era of super sweet "candy" corn, almost a warning. At the Marché des Saveurs, I got my first taste of D'Iberville, the artisanal tome-like raw/organic/cow's milk cheese from the St-Jean-sur-Richelieu area. It blew me away. Definite tome taste but a creamier texture than any French tome I've tried. This has got to be one of Quebec's top cheeses. Chez Louis had bouquets of local agastache, which I believe is hyssop. The slightly hairy leaves had an anise-like flavour. The Larousse Gastro suggests using the young leaves as a stuffing for oily fishes and to flavour sausages and fruit compots. I found it made a tasty addition to an herb salad.

Et puis ?

I looked for a bottle of the DJ rosé on Sunday at the Marché des Saveurs. They were sold out and said they wouldn't be getting any more. Purportedly, the vineyard was sold last winter following M. Joos's death and the new owners have ripped out the vines and planted corn. Was also told that the daughter has returned to Alsace, where she plans to make wine and export it to Quebec under the Joos name (don't see how it could be the same wines, however, as even the smallest amount of hybrid grapes would disqualify the wine from AOC and even, I believe, VDP status). Can anyone confirm this? What's incontestable is that there's next to no Joos rosé left in the SAQ system. Those who want to try it had better get cracking.

i know it is just an inadvertent typo for "panch phoron" or "panch phoran" but i can't help be amused by the thought of a "panch phora" mix--that would translate as a 5 lump (as in from boils or heavy bumps) mix. but that aside, i belive i might have posted an illustrated recipe for okra in my blog--if you can find it. My cluelessness in Indian cooking, dear Mongo, is exceeded only by my ignorance of Kannada, Hindi, Urdu, Marathi, Oriya, Begali and the subcontinent’s many other tongues (though living in Montreal, I must confess to a nominal attraction to the first). If you insist that panch phora is wrong, then wrong it is. But an “inadvertent typo” it ain’t. I checked the spelling before posting my message, and panch phora is the sole term used in Charmaine Solomon’s Encyclopedia of Asian Foods and Indian Cooking for Pleasure. Also, I’m pretty sure I learned it before acquiring her books. Googling the term turns up 168 hits, most of them mentioning only it, a few giving panch phoron as a synonym. In other words, I’m not the only one confused. Yrs most humbly, c. PS Aren’t all typos inadvertent by definition? PPS Actually, shouldn’t you be taking me to task over the missing fenugreek? PPPS Will attempt to find the okra script in you blog, though I feel oddly like Stanley about to enter the Congolese jungle.

It's a vacuum brewer, aka a vacpot. See Coffeekid's vacpot page. They're widely available at coffee specialty stores and even from amazon.com. Bodum makes a pretty good one, the Santos. There's even an all-electric version, the eSantos, that Starbucks has rebranded as the Utopia. edit: *$s doesn't have a apostrophe

Urban legend. See snopes.com's Don't go here.

Always. It's a staple. Usually salvaged from cooking duck breasts and duck confit, sometimes rendered from fat pulled from whole ducks before roasting or stewing. In the rare event we run out, we run out and buy a small tub from the butcher. Keeps several months in the fridge and indefinitely in the freezer.

A favourite variation on this: Make individual bundles of potatoes tossed with melted butter, a few lardons (bacon chunks about the size of the first joint of your little finger), some chopped garlic, a fresh thyme sprig or two, a bay leaf, some sea salt and a splash of water. If you happen to have a canned truffle lying around (lucky you!), chop it and distribute it among the budles, along with the juice from the can. Seal tightly (I use two sheets of foil) and cook on the grill, among the coals at the edge of a fire or in the oven. Open the bundles at the table so everyone can swoon over the aroma.

If they're absolutely perfect fingerlings, enjoy them at their purest. Put them unpeeled in a saucepan, cover with cold water, add about half the amount of salt you normally would and — the secret ingredient — a few sprigs of fresh dill. Bring to a boil over medium heat and simmer until just tender. Drain and serve immediately with salted butter (put a pat on your plate and add a dab to each bite). Excellent alongside most any simply prepared fish.

Based on your description, it may be L'Amandier (1479 Laurier East corner Fabre, 514 523-1501). Have never set foot in the shop but glean the following from the 2004 Quartiers Gourmands: - Run by Christophe Morel - Much of M. Morel's work is chocolate-based - The chocolate is never very sweet, always finely fashioned - In 2003, he was awarded both the Grand Prix canadien de la chocolaterie and the Prix du public at the Montreal High Lights festival - Keep an eye peeled for his lavender, verbena and basil filled chocolates; pastries including the Métis, mousse choco noir, crème brûlée vanille à l'intérieur; macaroons; fresh danishes and other "breakfast" pastries (viennoiseries) - He makes his own sherbets (mango, morello cherry, lychee and coconut) and a trippy Szechuan pepper and gingerbread ice cream Sounds like a visit is in order!

Do you pour the wine over the cereal in a bowl? Sugar optional? (Not needed with some zins, I bet...)

Paula's right that coffee-roasted leg of lamb is a Swedish specialty. If the coffee was originally used to hide the taste of the meat, that's no longer the case. Also, in the versions I've seen coffee is used for basting, not marinating. Here's how I remember it being made: The leg was rubbed with mustard, roasted for a while, then basted with a cup of coffee (with cream and sugar) spiked with a small amount of sweet wine (Sherry? Port?). The Gravy was made from the drippings, probably with the addition of some flour, beef or lamb stock and cream. Craig Clairborne has a simpler version in The New York Times Cookbook: rub a 5 lb. leg with salt and pepper and roast in a 425ºF oven with sliced carrots and onions for 30 minutes; lower the temperature to 350ºF and pour a mixture of 1½ cups coffee, 1 cup cream, 1 tablespoon sugar and 1 cup beef broth into the roasting pan; roast 40-60 minutes more, basting frequently; transfer the leg to a warm platter; degrease the contents of the pan, push through a strainer and serve as a sauce. Here's a non-Swedish version that uses coffee in the marinade: Kona Coffee Roasted Rack of Lamb. And a mole-like Coffee-Cocoa-Spiced Rack of Lamb.

One of the desserts at Brunoise, a fairly new Montreal restaurant, has been generating a lot of buzz (including in the New York Times): vanilla panna cotta drizzled with basil syrup and passion fruit pulp. At dinner there last week, it was amusing to see several first-timers reacting exactly the way I once did — doubt giving way to surprise then astonishment and finally unadulterated delight — all in the space of 5-10 seconds. However bizarre it sounds, it truly is a flavour combination that makes perfect sense on the palate, as though it has always existed, as though it was meant to be. edit: spelling

The thread about orka got me wondering about the place of corn (maize, if you prefer) in Indian cooking. The corn entry in Charmaine Solomon's Encyclopedia of Asian Food states: The entry also includes a recipe for spinach and corn bhaji. And although I don't recall where I first learned how to make it, "Indian" corn on the cob—grilled with the silk removed but husk on and eaten spinkled with lime juice and a mixture of salt and cayenne—has long been one of my favourite summer eats. But that's it. I don't recall seeing any other Indian recipes for corn in any form. So... How common is corn in Indian cooking? Which regions does it tend to be grown in? Is it mainly used as a flour or a fresh vegetable? Does this vary from region to region? Do you have any favourite dishes that feature corn? (Useless trivia: Here in French Canada, corn is often called blé d'Inde "India wheat". Of course, the French word for turkey, another New World foodstuff, is dinde, a shortened form of coq/poule d'Inde "India cock/hen".)

Thanks for the welcome, Episure. I've been lurking here and on the other Asian fora for a while, awed into silence by the knowlege of so many of the contributors. Will, of course, be interested in your reaction to the okra. Would there be a more authentic flour to use than cornmeal (which, I hasten to add, is not the same thing as cornflour—aka cornstarch—but rather coarsely ground grain corn)? Have thought of trying besan, but the texture wouldn't be the same. Yes, I have some experience pairing wine and other alcoholic beverages with Indian food. Will mull it over and start a thread this evening, after I've gotten through the pile of work sitting on my desk.

How about Indian-Southern US fusion? After receiving complaints from several dinner guests about stewed okra's "sliminess," I adapted my grandmother's recipe for fried okra. It's hardly authentic but it works, and the okra emerges crisp, crunchy and tasting more of India than Texas. Here's what you do: Mix some cornmeal with roasted ground Indian spices (whatever moves you; I often opt for a panch phora mixture of black mustard seeds, cumin, nigella and fennel and sometimes throw in powdered chile). Rinse the okra and cut it crosswise into ¼-to-½" lengths. Toss with the cornmeal-spice mixture (a paper bag works fine). Transfer to a strainer and shake lightly to remove the excess cornmeal. Heat a tablespoon or three of vegetable oil in a cast iron skillet. Add the okra and fry until the cut sides are crisp. Season with salt. Use a slotted spoon to transfer the okra to a serving dish. If desired, sprinkle with garam masala and amchur or lime juice just before serving.

In desserts, I use the fresh flowers for garnishing and the dried flowers, which can be bought in most health food stores, for cooking. I don't see why you couldn't use the fresh flowers for cooking, however. Lavender-infused crème brûlée is a delicious way to end a meal, especially one that has featured Provençal dishes. A great light dessert, especially in early winter when the clementines are at their best, is to heat some honey in a saucepan, add dried lavender flowers and set aside to infuse for 30 minutes or so. Strain and drizzle over peeled, sliced clementines. Decorate with fresh lavender flowers if you have them. The flowers can also be used for tea, either alone or in combination with herbs (lemon verbena, for example) or black teas. I sometimes use the leaves in a dry rub for meat: chop a mixture of 3 parts fresh rosemary leaves, 3 parts fresh thyme leaves and 1 part fresh lavender leaves and rub on the meat before barbecuing, broiling or roasting. This works especially well with lamb. The same herb mixture plus crushed garlic, lemon juice and soy sauce makes a fine marinade for a barbecued butterflied leg of lamb. As others have pointed out, it's important to have a light hand with lavender. A little goes a long way and, as I learned the first time I used some leaves from my plant, the results can be close to inedible if you overdo it

La Bastide, 151 Bernard West.

Finally got to taste the 2003 Tavel from Château d'Aqueria ($22.40 and available only at the Signature stores). I'm not a fan of Tavels, finding most to be blowsy and hot, but this was quite good: dense, layered and long albeit not exactly refreshing. In the same price bracket, I think the Guigal is the finer wine, though in some situations the Aqueria would be the better choice (to accompany an aioli, say, which would steamroller the more nuanced Guigal). The biggest surprise of the weekend was a wine from an appellation new to me: Cérons. The wine in question, the 1999 Château de Chantegrives ($32.25), was definitely in the moelleux camp. Showing some botrytis along with melon and candle wax, this hit the palate sweet and finished dry. Light, elegant and refreshingly acidic, it would make a deluxe aperitif, would accompany foie gras far more satisfactorily than many Sauternes, and could even accompany delicate main dishes with a sweet or fruity component (sweetbreads braised with grapes and olives, scallops with lemongrass and coconut milk, etc.). Not many bottles left in the system. Also, a few weeks ago the Montreal Signature store received a range of wines from some of Germany's leading producers, most of them new to the SAQ. Except for some very pricey half-bottles, the Donnhoffs are sold out. But there remain a few bottles of kabinetts and spatleses from Muller-Catoir, Joh. Jos. Prum, Selbach-Oster and others, mostly from the 2002 vintage. Riesling, of course, but also an unusual and delicious muskateller from Muller-Catoir. Do the all-German nouveaux arrivages release in May and these Signature offerings mean the SAQ has finally seen the light about German wines?

Don't know about amaretto cookies but in The Man Who Ate Everything Jeffrey Steingarten suggests using apricot and peach kernels to flavour almond granita. For the procedure, see the last post in the thread Where to find bitter almond extract.

Just back from a lightning tour of the Jean-Talon Market. Local sour cherries, raspberries and currants of various colours were on sale at a couple of stalls and one stall had Quebec corn on the cob. There were also some gorgeous strawberries from Île d'Orléans. Beautiful half-inch thick local leeks were crying out to be blanched, chilled, halved lengthwise and served as a salad (dressing of EVOO, white wine vinegar, chopped shallot and coarsely chopped anchovy, garnished with chopped hard-boiled egg and parsley). Chez Louis had many cases of the incredible, edible Philibon melon air-freighted from Quercy at $8.99 a pop (that's per melon, not per case, and it's a fair price for the ultimate melon experience) as well as plastic containers of micro-arugula ($14 for about half as many ounces, I'd guess; I took a pass) and some really lovely blewet mushrooms (aka pieds bleus). The clerk at Milano told me the name of the huge green olives mentioned above, which I promptly forgot (started with a C); they're Italian, packed with lemon, located in the case with the antipasti to the right of the regular olive station and priced at $19.99 a kilo, so a bit more expensive than I'd remembered.

Jams and jellies. The high pectin content makes them a natural. If you can find some raspberries, strawberries and sour cherries, you have the makings for one of the best jams. Red currant jelly can add zing to many sauces and stews (rabbit, carrots, lardons, pearl onions and prunes stewed in beer is a fave) and it's one of the key ingredients in Cumberland sauce (which can also be made with the fruit, by the way). Compote. Either alone or with raspberries and strawberries. Red currant curd. For filling tarts and cakes. Given your specialization, why not a chutney? Two worthy ideas from Chez Panisse Fruits: - Pickled currants, which also gives you a supply of red currant vinegar for use in dressings and sauces - Frosted red currants, for decorating cakes, puddings and plated desserts (works best with currant clusters)

That's certainly the case for many Western wines and Western foods. But I wonder if it always holds true for other cuisines. A Chinese wine-loving friend of mine once organized a dinner around several top French wines from his cellar. The meal was held at one of the city's fancier, if somewhat Europeanized, Chinese restaurants, and the wine-food pairings were closely coordinated with the chef, who had trained at Maxim's in Paris. I wasn't surprised to find that in nearly every instance the chef had carefully chosen the ingredients and really toned down the seasonings to avoid overpowering the wines. Even then, a couple of the more subtle wines — a fine old Musigny, for example — got steamrollered. So, I think the first rule (which must, of course, admit exceptions) is this: if you insist on serving wine with Chinese food, choose robust, vibrant wines. The Chinese tendancy to serve many different dishes at the same time also presents a challenge to the would-be wine-pairer. Often the best solution is to provide each diner with two glasses: one red wine, one white wine, which they drink according to the dish they're eating. If forced to choose one bottle to go with a wide range of dishes, I generally reach for an off-dry, high-acid white like a chenin blanc from the Loire (Vouvray, Coteaux-du-Layon, etc.), riesling from Alsace (Weinbach, Zind-Humbrecht) or Germany or grüner veltliner from Austria, and I don't rule out sparklers. But just because two things are great on their own, it doesn't mean they're necessarily great together. For my part, I usually prefer beer. edit: clarity