Lemon Tart

Arugula Radish Salad with Meyer Lemon and Parmesan

If ever I were to write my a cookbook it would be about salads. This may come as a surprise to some of you. After all, the sweet realm is really the place of my heart and soul and certainly my specialty. But putting together interesting salads is something that seems natural to me, which I'm sure is largely based on my absolute passion for vegetables. Considering a salad is part of our dinner almost daily, I've had a lot of chance to perfect my skills.  My favourite executions often involve combining whatever bare bone ingredients I can scrounge in the fridge. These exercises in creativity give me a challenge I relish more in more. Making a memorable dish out of what appears to be nothing is the greatest satisfaction there is in cooking.

My approach to the perfect salad has evolved over the years and what I tend to create more often these days are simple combinations of fewer ingredients, served in shallow bowl, Chez Panisse style. Balance is key to a great salad and once you learn that it becomes easier to create new and interesting mixes. Most of the year you are more likely to find me making salads where the greens are used in a supporting role, with cooked or raw, shaved, grated or sliced vegetables taking centre stage. Salad greens or "leaves" are sought after in spring when they are new and fresh and hearkening the growing season ahead. This is the only time of year I'm giddy about greens. With its constant presence, we forget that even lettuce has a season, spring being the best one. You can eat lettuce all year and not notice it, but then you have some in April or May straight from the garden and you sit up and notice it for the first time because it tastes of something beyond water.

I've made this salad multiple times for the last 3 weeks, since I first spotted my beloved French Breakfast Radishes (I do so love them) and bags of the tenderest (and cleanest!) Arugula at the market a couple weeks ago. On market days like these a salad announces itself, I simply allow them a place to come together. The elements are the simplest, and so is the application. Peppery arugula plays well with the mild crunchy radishes which is then brought to life with lemon zest and balanced out with salty, pleasingly textured parmesan cheese. It all comes together by olive oil which coats rather than drenches the tender spring greens which really are young and soft without the strong stems they will begin to form throughout summer. Then of course there's the visual beauty of that bright spring green alongside the fushia and white tinged radishes, echoing the very same colour combination in my vase of tulips on the table. This salad is my love letter to spring, and a salad I'll be happy to eat too much of.

 

 

 

Fava Beans and "Whee"

 
"I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti".

That was about as much as I knew about favas for many years- a famous line from Silence of the Lambs. I'm willing to wager that's as close as most people in this country have come to fava beans.

Now come with me to a little movie called Sound of Music. Remember the sorta cold, older sister, Liesl? The pretty one. The  sweet 16 in love with the soon to be Nazi? Well certainly you remember the dancing around the garden scene. There they are dancing around the garden, young and in love, flirting away, unbeknownst to The Captain. The sky opens up like it does only in the movies, and they quickly become soaked. Away they flit, they flit, they fly away into the perfectly placed gazebo, where they continue their dancing and singing foreplay-the only way to portray lust and sexual tension in a PG movie.  And just when you find yourself feeling you could get up and do those steps as if they were your own, Rolfe plants a big wet one on Liesl. The music stops, there's a climactic pause and its at this moment that  Lisel lets out the famous "Whee...". You must know the "whee..." It's so charming, so perfect, so silly, so WWII. If you are still with me (and I do thank you for your patience) you are wondering, "why the heck is she talking about fava beans and The Sound of Music".  Well, that "whee..." was my reaction when I arrived at my local Farmers Market on Saturday morning and saw a big bowl of bright, green fava beans at one of my favoute vendors. I was "wheeing" all the way around the market (the wholesome, joyful Whee, not the other kind). And it wasn't because of Hannibal Lector and his nice choice of wine pairing.

I get excited about most beautiful, lovingly grown, fresh fruits and vegetables, but some are just closer to my heart than others. Like fava beans. Their season is so small, they are expensive, require a lot of preparation and are in short supply here in Vancouver. And I love them! The only problem is that I can't get nearly enough of them to make me happy. Next year I'm hoping to employ a couple of gardeners to help me get my fix. Just wondering how many batch's of ice cream will get me  fava beans for a couple weeks?

Fava beans, also known as Broad beans for you Brits out there, Fèves to the French and Fave in Italian, are a popular part of  Mediterranean diet and are plentiful in places like Provence and Italy. I try hard not to think of the huge bag of fèves I purchased in Paris 2 years ago. They were so cheap I nearly  cried right there. They are a shelling bean and very tender new ones can actually be eaten raw, although I think that works mostly if you are picking them yourself. Otherwise they are cooked briefly and eaten as is or in salads, purees, and soups. Combined with corn they become Succotash.  

If you've never had a fresh fava bean before please seek a couple handfuls out and give them a try. If you were introduced to them in dry form or are thinking about those grey lima beans in Campbells vegetable soup, think again. Hard. Think more of a nutty pea, yet buttery, full flavoured and tasting of spring, even though for some of us in the world we don't get them in the spring but rather in early summer. 

Fava beans require a lot of trimming compared to other vegetables. Their pods look like really large beans with a tough skin. Once pulled open they have a moist fury interior holding snugly kidney shaped beans. Once shelled these beans must be blanched in order to facilitate peeling. Using your thumbnail you can easily pierce the the outer skin and gently squeeze the inner bean out. You are left with glossy, greenest flat beans. That glorious bright green will entice you. They only need about 5 minutes of cooking after that depending on their size.

Eat Your Radishes!

 

 Spring is in full fling now, and that probably means your local farmers markets are open and filled with the first local produce. Here on the Westcoast of Canada, the growing season is a couple weeks behind, but while the weather feels like mid summer these days, its still just the beginning. One of the colourful things in the markets right now, along with all the green, is radishes. These seemingly ubiquitous red orbs are taken for granted as that crunchy bit of red in a common green salad, or thrown onto a veggie and dip platter at endless BBQ's. Why is that we forget how beautiful this vegetable is. Crunchy, juicy, peppery and beautiful to look at, it has everything we want in a vegetable and I find myself feeling like a bit of crusader for these beauties. Stop, now and reflect upon Les Radis!

I started to really appreciate radishes when  in France during spring. The French Breakfast radish is the radish of choice there and my personal favourite. Markets were bursting with abundant displays of this most glorious  root. We ate them on picnics with butter, baguettes and cheese, and  some special occasion sea salt- the perfect way to enjoy them. 

French Breakfast radishes are an elongated variety with  magenta tops and white tips- slender and elegant. They tend to have shorter, more tender leaves, perfect for nibbling along with the vegetable. No need to completely de-stem these. In fact the leaves of these can be used in soups, salad and even pesto.  Their mild pepperiness is pleasing, with a sweetness and a balance of juicy and crunch. No other raw vegetable looks as striking on a platter and their slender shape facilitates dipping. And did you know you can cook radishes? A quick turn in the pan with a little stock and olive oil, their flavour mellows and softens.

Sunchoke Soup and the Return of Winter

 
Outside my window I'm looking at an unusually strange view of the city I call home. Snow covered rooftops, white capped trees and chilly looking crocuses. Here in Vancouver, snow is something people tend to recoil from. It instills panic in a city full of cars with perpetual summer tires and bombards us with the idea of winter that we simply don't buy into. People drink their morning coffee on outdoor patios, I wear my summer jacket in February and DG insists on his tiny little nylon running shorts. This winter, however, has shown itself in a traditional Canadian manner with unseasonably cold weather and a month of snow banks and salted streets. Just as the reminder of the white stuff had vanished, as crocuses burst out in colourful song and the tulips and daffodils started to perk up and show themselves, and just 1 day after we had brunch on an outdoor patio, the skies opened up and it snowed! I'm sure I could hear the cries from all over the city. No....!  Me, actually, I like snow. In fact I can't get enough of it. Shhh...don't tell or I'll get voted off!

I take this as a sign that I can still get in another winter vegetable soup. Today's soup recipe is one I developed a couple years ago as a way to use up a rather enthusiastic purchase of sunchokes, or jerusalem artichokes. This is one of my favourite ways of introducing this unique vegetable that unless you shop at farmers markets, you probably will never see. A friend gave me her bounty recently and I went about making a big batch of soup to preserve this vegetable before the spring peas and asparagus arrive.


The Sunchoke, also called Jerusalem Artichoke,  is the tuber or root of a variety of sunflower. When I tell people that they instantly warm to it. It has no relation to artichokes, doesn't taste like them or look like them and isn't a native to Jerusalem.  It is in fact native to North America. Sunchoke seems a more fitting name although then there's the choke part which puzzles. Seems like this is one misunderstood vegetable!

Creamy Celeriac Soup

This ugly, gnarly root vegetable you see above is called celeriac, also known as celery root. And I have a confession to make: it is probably my favourite winter vegetable. As far as starchy roots this one stacks up right at the top of the heap, above the humble potato and attention grabbing pumpkin, toppling over beautiful parsnips, homey beets and everyday carrots. Frankly it could hold its own as my all time favourite vegetable list any day, but I didn't think you'd buy my confession when going head to head with Black Krim Tomatoes, Dragon Tongue Beans,  or White asparagus.

 So what is it about celeriac? Well, this full flavoured, North American under achiever is the root of a variety of celery grown for its large root. A storage vegetable with a relatively low starch level it is appropriate for eating in both raw and cooked forms and is great on its own or combined with other lightly flavoured vegetables such as potatoes. Indeed it is this flexibility which makes it such a useful vegetable to have around. The flavour is, as you would expect, decidedly celery like, but with a smoother finish than raw celery. And because it is low in starch, it can be blended into a puree without risk of becoming gluey like some varieties of potato.

Celeriac is revered in Europe, especially France, where it shows up in the classic Remoulade, a shredded version in a mustard mayonnaise dressing. It makes a beautiful addition to any colesaw and try adding a bit to classic mashed potatoes for a lovely flavour boost. Added to a tray of mixed roasted root vegetables or or layed in a gratin, it adds a unique complement to sweet creamy starches. But one of my  favourite ways to enjoy this highly flavoured vegetable is in a creamy soup.  Combined with potatoes which temper its strong flavour, it makes a beautiful puree that shines when topped with a glistening fruity olive oil or herb oil. This soup cooks up in no time at all and will freeze well.

 

My Little Piece of Earth

Something amazing happened to me recently, and I forgot to mention it, what with the being all giddy over my acquisition.  I'm thankful to have this public way to share my joy with you.  What what what?  Well, I'll be honest, for most people it was a small joy, which are usually the best kind for a food lover like me.

I bought my first black winter truffle! Yes this is cause for jumping up and down excitement for me.  If you've been following this blog recently you've have already seen my beautiful darling, enjoyed on a very special Valentines dinner.  And it was bea-u-ti-ful!  I cannot overstate this fact.  The smell was intoxicating, with its rich deep wild mushroomy aroma and an overwhelming reminder of earth and dirt.  All of that along with a floral pungency. This is the best way to describe the sensory nature of such a unique gift from the earth. 

It traveled a long way from the chalky soiled forests of the Perigord region in Southwestern France, sniffed out by a well trained dog likely, who was hopefully rewarded with filet mignon.  The truffle hunter perhaps would have been a weathered old timer who knows how to find a truffle by a shadow at the base of a tree or the sound of the earth as his trusty hound pitter-pattered about on his task.  This may sound overly romantic but given that we are speaking of a part of the world that I'm already head over heels in love with you can understand my desire to paint an idyllic picture of how this little nugget moved about its way towards me. Of course, deep down I know that its likely a very different story, hopefully not one full of danger and darkness and shifty characters, which has been known to happen in this high priced high demand world truffle trade.   Soon after harvest it would have made its way to a raucous truffle market such as Sarlat or Carpentras where it was purchased and eventually made its way here to Vancouver.

So what's the big deal, you ask?  You might never have had the opportunity to enjoy a truffle, or even given them a lot of thought.  Well I have, which is why I went to the trouble of calling a local specialty food distributor that supplies the finest restaurants in Canada and the US with such things as truffles and other wild products. They don't normally sell to the public, but with an appointment and some cash in hand, he was kind enough to let me come by.  An address error which left me unable to find the location of this nondescript, signless warehouse space almost evaporated my anticipation.  But after persevering I made it, not willing to give up on this opportunity.  My contact gave me a quick tour of the tickle trunk that is their warehouse.  This utilitarian space is packed with the kinds of specialty products most of us only enjoy on a restaurant plate.  There were boxes full of the finest aged risotto rices from Italy, fresh chickpeas, wild mushrooms galore, unique greens, gorgeous French green beans, nut oils and hard to find Provencal olive oils from France, barrel aged maple syrups and every kind of truffle product you have imagine.  If I knew I wasn't taking him away from his very busy job I could have spent hours in there.  I thanked him for the gracious tour and left with a beautiful black truffle carefully wrapped in paper towel and a plastic bag to preserve its aroma and flavour, sneaking whiffs at every traffic light on the way home.  My little glorious bit of earth that was worth the adventure and the hefty pricetag. I left like a kid with a new kitten- gloriously excited, dreaming of the best scrambled eggs and pasta I would ever taste.

Tea Soaked Prunes

Disclaimer: I realize now that prunes are not that photogenic. But I hope you'll stay long enough to perhaps give them a chance.

Last June I brought home 2 pounds of Agen prunes from France in my suitcase. That act itself tells a lot about the kind of traveler I am given the current luggage weight limitations of budget airlines these days. It probably also reveals a lot about my personality and my desire to have a memory of a place in the form of food. They were worth the effort, I must say.

Why these prunes, you might ask?  There is a town in southwestern France called Agen. The prunes grown here are so special they have an AOC designation. This is a French certification that governs a geographical area for a certain food product. Prunes grown here get to say "Pruneaux d'Agen" on their labels, which is similar to calling a wine a Sparkling Wine or Champagne. In southwest France you see piles of them in the markets all plump, shiny and inviting. On one occasion a couple years ago we had the pleasure of enjoying them wrapped in bacon and warmed in the oven, enjoyed with a pre dinner drink. In my opinion this is the single best preparation to change anyone's mind about prunes. I also enjoyed them as a dessert  in which they were poached in red wine and touch of citrus and served with those juices with ice cream. That dessert inspired me to try a classic French method of soaking them in tea.

 Belonging mostly in the health food category, we don't give prunes much thought in North America.  So much so, that its now becoming more common for them to be called dried plums. A little marketing genius if you ask me. I'll admit that until a couple years ago when I enjoyed prunes in France on several occasions, I've been a little lukewarm to them as well. But I've come around and now view them as a dried fruit worth my attention.

Blood Oranges

 
Since the invention of modern refrigeration and the proliferation of food transportation, those of us who might never have seen an orange let alone enjoyed glasses  at our breakfast tables, now regard them with little thought. Every day of the year there are heaps of orange in the grocery stores,  they are standards in household fridges and are likely to make an appearance in 3/4 of the lunch bags across the country. Modern innovations such as these have been good for our food supply (although that's fodder for a longer more complicated debate) and while citrus fruits travel and keep very well,  the truth is there is a time of year when you should be eating them the most. And lucky for us, that's winter, when the next local fresh fruit is still 6 months away. The sight and taste of a sharp, sweet, acidic orange  wakes us up and brightens up all the hearty heavy flavours of
winter. These are the glories of eating seasonally: you appreciate a fruit more when its at its peak of flavour and when you start to look forward to its season.

One of my favourite oranges are Blood Oranges. These flamboyant members of the citrus family have a reddish hued skin and a deeply coloured flesh with juice that looks well, like blood. Their season generally runs from December to March. When shopping look for those with a a good amount of red on the skin which signals a deeply coloured flesh and a nicely balanced flavour. Somtimes they can be completely orange and show very little visual clues to whats inside. While nothing wrong with these blood oranges their flesh will often be lighter in colour and possibly less rich in taste and sweetness. Too much dark red colour can also indicate an overly ripe or old fruit, so pay attention to colouring and a firm texture. The most common variety is the Moro. Their interiors will have a range of burgundy flesh to a mixture of deep orange, reds and pinks. These  crimson beauties have a richness and complexity that's hard to describe with a nice balance of sweet and tart but with subtle raspberry flavours.

A bag of them found at my local Superstore inspired me to share a little of my excitement for them. I recently honoured my love of Blood Oranges by baking this amazing tart. It was a showstopper that's for sure. But even if you don't do that I hope after reading this you will seek them out and eat them au natural. Kids and adults alike love the constrast in colour. If you need something to dress up a cocktail or glass of orange juice for someone special this Valentines day I suggest serving some of these as their red colour seems appropriate for February 14.

 

How to Seed a Pomegranate

 


There are few more interesting fruits, aesthetically speaking, than the pomegranate. Call it sexual if you like with its bright crimson globe bursting with what seems like thousands of succulent seeds. There's a reason its been in paintings for hundreds of years and has been viewed as a fertility symbol since ancient Greece. Who wouldn't think of sex when they see its cross section?   In fact, I'm thinking that the "apple" in Eden really was more likely a pomegranate.

While more appreciated in other parts of the world, the pomegranate has seen a resurgence over the last few years. As soon as a you see something in a Starbucks Frappucino, you know its the flavour of the moment.  Their taste is sweet, tart, and bright all at once and a glorious centerpiece can be made simply by placing a few in a white or glass bowl.

Used mostly fresh, some cultures will concentrate it to make a product like Pomegranate Molasses- a deep, dark, sweet and smoky condiment used in sauces.  In Morocco they are used in stews and meat dishes and the seeds are dried and ground to be used as a common spice known as Anardana in Indian cooking.  Most of us probably had our first pomegranate in a Shirley Temple as an adventurous youth (wink) in the form of grenadine.  In fact, the fresh juice makes a great addition to almost any drink, especially ones with citrus components. Add a few tablespoons to your usual lemonade for a beautiful drink.

Pomegranates are in season in the winter, usually from December to February when their glossy, red appearance brightens up the winter produce line up. So I'm at the end of the season for this post. I've been too busy gorging myself on them! Get out there and buy yours today!  Look for ones that are shiny and vital looking, heavy for their size, with no caving or visible dryness. One large fruit will usually yield a minimum of 1/2 cup of juice, which is more than you might expect. When shopping, look for stickers that say POM.  This is a farm in California that consistently grows the best pomegranates. Store them on the counter or in the fridge. They will keep for about a week, although best to use to them shortly after purchase.

Now, there's the question of the most effective way to get at that glorious juice. Sure, you can buy it made from concentrate in a bottle, but if you've ever had a fresh squezed orange and compared it to juice from a carton, you know the difference. While a little more difficult to juice than an orange, the pomegranate  is really a fruit that is worth the effort to juice yourself. And I often think that in food, a little extra effort is always worth it.  So to help you take advantage of this unique and very seasonal fruit I'll show you what I think is the best way to take charge of one. You'll need a pomegrante, small paring knife and a large bowl of cold water.

1. Score the skin of the fruit in four sections, just cutting through the skin but not going into the fruit.


2. Fill a large bowl with water and set it in the sink. Grab hold with your hands and break it apart with verve. You can also do this part completely under water.  Don't be afraid to get powerful. Use the score lines as guides and let the membranes separate naturally.


3. Place the fruit and your hands in the water, keeping the fruit submerged at all times. This technique will keep splatters in the water instead of on you, kitchen grout or anywhere else you don't want the very stain-able juice. It also makes it easy to really get your hands in there and pull it apart. Don't be shy just start pulling the seeds and membranes away from each other, discarding the large chunks, don't worry about the small white pith at this point. Use the outside skin and sort of turn it inside out which will help pop the seeds out. Try your best not to puncture the seeds as this will lose the seeds in the water.


4. After successfully breaking the seeds free, leave the entire container filled with water for about 30 minutes to give the membranes time to float to the top. Scoop most of it away with your hands. Now strain the entire thing. You can keep these as is in the fridge for a few days. Toss them on a spinach salad, a bowl of ice cream, or a chocolate dessert. Or just throw some in a bowl and snack on them, my favourite way (thanks Mom!).


5. If the juice is what you are after, put them in a blender and pulse them several times until they are well broken down but the hard seeds are not completely ground up. The mixture should look juicy.


6. Pour through a strainer and push the pulp and juice through. Once you've squeezed every last bit, leave the juice to sit for about 1 hour. This gives any of the blended pith a chance to settle in the bottom. If you see a cloudy lay on the bottom of any amount, pour the juice slowly off leaving that potentially bitter stuff behind.

The uses are endless, but I will leave you with a lovely refreshing drink.





Pomegranate Spritzer

1 cup pomegranate juice
1/4 cup simple syrup (dissolve equal parts sugar and hot water and cool)
1 lime, juiced
several bruised mint leaves
2 cups sparkling water
Mix all together, taste for sweetness and pour into ice filled glasses. Enjoy immediately. For an adult version, replace the water with vodka or sparkling wine.

Getting to Know the Quince

 

This is the first in a series on less common or overlooked fruits and vegetables.

I have a love affair with this fruit that is second to none. What's a quince?  It's a hard yellow fruit with an uneven fuzz something like a pear, something like an apple and yet entirely different. They grow in temperate parts of the world including here in British Columbia and originated in Asia. It was very popular in ancient Rome, as well as Iran, Portugal, Greece and France. Indeed it is said that the first Marmalade was made with quince, not Seville Oranges as the word Marmalade is derived from the Portuguese marmelo which means Quince.

This is a fruit to which time and patience rewards. They are very hard, dry and tannic when raw and if you bit into one in its raw state you would never again. Leave them in a bowl in your home and they will give off the most amazing of fragrances, both fruity and floral, smelling partly of ripe apple and pear but with much more complexity. Indeed Victorian's are supposed to have used them as room or closet fresheners. I keep mine in a bowl until they no longer imbue my room with their perfume and then I get to work preserving their glories.

The Quince is high in natural pectin which is why it is most commonly used in jams and jellies. It  poaches like a dream(future recipe on that coming soon) and can be easily added to any apple or pear desserts such as pies, crisps or cakes. Indeed that is the best place to cozy up to this beauty. Buy a couple and start experimenting. It can also be served alongside meats, stuffed with meat and spices like in Morocco, added to chutneys and mincemeat, made into a paste to have with cheese, and even infused in Vodka  for the most beautiful liqueur.

So this is your Quince Primer. If you know anyone who has a tree, ask for some. They are generally regarded as very easy to grow, but since most people aren't familiar with them I would imagine anyone with a tree would be happy to find a  home for them. Otherwise keep your eye out for them at Farmers Markets and Natural Food stores or enjoy the idea of them here on your computer screen. Soon I'll be poaching a batch with tips on flavours that complement them as well as what to do with all the parts of the fruit and liquid.