Edible Tulip

Nasturtium - the edible flower

Nasturtiums, Tropaeolum majus, are simple and pretty trailing flowers with bright rounded green leaves. They look perfect bunched on the top of an elegant cake iced in white or chocolate and they add a feeling of festivity (as flowers often do) to a mixed green salad of arugula, sorrel, mesclun and spinach. Both the leaves and the flowers are edible and they have much more Vitamin C than plain lettuce as well as a slight peppery flavour.

Nasturtiums are also often used decoratively in vinegar. Put 1 cup of flowers, buds and leaves into a tall glass container and cover the flora with a pint of white wine vinegar or champagne vinegar and then set aside for 3 weeks. When ready to serve, add a fresh flower into the bottle.

For the gardeners among us, nasturtiums are ideal starter flowers for the garden and planted alongside vegetables because they deter aphids and beetles. They also grow very easily on containers and hanging baskets which makes having cheerful edible flowers around the house that much easier. So really, at this time of the year, the nasturtium is truly the life of the party - edible, pretty, peppery, not fussy, and a true compliment to everything around her.

Barbecued Salmon

I live near the Ontario Fisheries Products which is a wholesale dealer of fish, fish and more fish: pike, halibut, haddock, pickeral, Georgian Bay freshwater fish, Atlantic salmon, arctic char, baby shrimp, picked fish, smoked fish, swordfish, Atlantic lobster and frozen fillets for convenience. They've been very good to me so that when I call on a Wednesday looking to pick up fish for 18 people that afternoon when they aren't even open to the public (that's a wholesaler day) they oblige, bone an enormous salmon fillet (or three) for me and have it all packed in ice ready for pick up. I highly recommend buying your fish from them if you visit the Collingwood area on weekends.

Now on to the fish. And barbecuing it. To be honest, I'd never barbecued anything in my life before I started cooking at this retreat centre. It frightened me. It reminded me of my barbecue set is better than your barbecue set rivalries that used to go on in the suburban town of Oakville where I grew up. It reminded me of aging white men in white pants drinking budweiser beer cooking sausages while watching the Masters Golf tournament through the sliding doors. This is ridiculously stereotypical I know. I had to combat those phobias however. That not only aging white men with white pants can barbecue. So I did it. I initiated myself by cooking FISH on a hot flame (nearing 700 F which was totally accidental and due to a tempermental barbecue) for almost 20 people. Lo and behold it turned out perfectly -- people raved, they told me even their husbands couldn't cook salmon this good, I was shocked. Partly I think it is due to the thickness of the fillets I use (between 2 - 3 inches in parts), the freshness of the fillets which produces a lot of oil which holds the moisture and the fact that I marinate after cooking so it seeps into the warm flesh.

I don't recommend bringing your gas stove up to the 700 F mark. I try to maintain the barbecue at 400 F but sometimes it doesn't behave. At 400 F it usually takes about 20 minutes for the salmon to cook through - the outer flesh is turning white, the inner flesh is nearing a paler pink and the very inside is still streaked with bright pink. This to me means it is done. Because by the time I close the barbecue lid and turn off the barbecue (and also the gas), the fish will continue to cook for a few minutes while I arrange all the other dishes on the buffet table. I put my fish fillet on a long piece of foil because I don't have a fish grill. My father does and it works very well. I do not cover my fish to poach it; I keep the top open to the elements of barbecuing because it imparts a slightly smoky flavour.

I dress my salmon in a simple vinaigrette and serve it with this sauce poured over top: 1 cup olive oil, juice of 3 lemons, 1/2 jar of capers plus juice, 2 Tbsp chopped fresh dill, salt and coarse ground pepper.

That charred looking thing in the top upper right of the photo is barbecued garlic. I didn't research it before doing it and I now know that perhaps I should have wrapped it in foil like I have done to roast garlic in the oven. This got excessively sticky and molten. I could still use the deep recesses of each clove but only enough to smear on a few toasted baguette slices which I then topped with a marinated grape tomato and fresh mint balsamic salsa.

Local Sheep's Milk Cheese

I've recently returned from the farmer's market in town where the crowd was jubilant, children carried balloons, cups of Ontario fruit were handed out, I had 2 strong mugs of Creemore bird friendly coffee and I chatted with all the vendors in that free flowing Saturday morning way that makes me sound like I've lived in the hills for all my life. I came away with a large perfectly formed cauliflower sheathed in a green leafy embrace, a quart of wild blueberries, a harvest loaf of bread, 6 Ontario peaches and cream corn, a pint of grape tomatoes, a quart of sugar snap peas, a bundle of fresh garlic and a jar of garlic dill pickles. I also bought 200 g of sheep's milk feta from a delightful fellow named Philip Collman.

Philip and his wife Stephanie Diamant run a farm called Milky Way Farm located in Shelburne Ontario and they are cheese makers who only use sheep milk. Sheep milking is an ancient practice and more sheep are milked than cows worldwide. Sheep's milk is packed with more nutrients than both cow and goat milk due to it's density and is also higher in protein, minerals and vitamins. I've tried several of Philip's cheeses because my mother is also a fan and these are several of my favourite: fresh cheese (akin to a Balkan style yogurt, wonderful with a stirring of fresh preserves or local maple syrup), white mould cheese layered with ash (quite mild like a new camembert), feta (as pictured above, a crumbly creamy texture like the finest greek sheep's feta), and a stunning raw milk hard cheese (aged 60 days and comparable to a Spanish manchego cheese, excellent with a chutney and a nutty cracker).

Anyone interested in learning more about sheep milk products in Ontario can look here.

Potato Salad with a Curried Kick

Sometimes ingredients mesh together in a strange yet comforting way. You eat a bite of something and you think: "Ok, I can taste a subtle hint of sugar but it's not processed sugar, it tastes more complex, but it's also not the crystallized floral aftertaste of honey, and then there's a tangy acidity somewhere as well as a strong yet soothing blended spice". "What IS this?". When I made this salad, this is the sort of response I would get. People would waft in after lunch and say "Please tell me how you made those potatoes, my god". And so I did. And I will for you too.

I boiled baby red new potoates or baby white new potatoes and if I couldn't find either of those that were in good form I just used the larger ones but I tried to pick relatively small sizes and I boiled them whole. When they were ready, not falling apart ready, but definitely cooked through ready, so that when poked the skin would sometimes release itself from the flesh and splay a little, I'd dump them out into a large colander to let cool slightly. I like to dress my potatoes up when they are still somewhat warm: the dressing invades the flesh so each bite carries an intensity of flavour.

Meanwhile, poach a few handfuls of long green beans in boiling water until they turn a bright green. A few minutes usually works but depending on the amount and the temperature of the water it can vary slightly. I like mine still crunchy but not raw tasting. When they are done, I rinse them briefly under cold water to stop the cooking and then set aside in a colander. They need to be entirely rid of their excess water by the time the get tossed with the salad so I often roll them in paper towels as well.

On a platter prepare the potatoes with the green beans cut on a diagonal in half. If you aren't using tiny baby potatoes then cut them into large bite size chunks or halve them.

Then make the dressing. I use tall glass 2 cup measuring bowl. 1 cup of vegetable oil. 1/2 cup cider vinegar. 1/4 cup finest maple syrup. 2 Tbsp of curry powder (or to taste). 1 Tbsp coarse grainy mustard (with seeds). 2 garlic cloves minced. Salt and pepper. Whisk together with a fork. And pour over your mountain of potatoes and bright green beans. Using a large wooden spoon, keep combining the potatoes in a rotating manner until they are all equally dressed. Soon the piper will sound, and the night will truly begin. After all, your potatoes are all dressed up now.

Egg Souffle

Excuse me for my absence (and thanks for all the emails of insight, commentary and recipe sharing!) but I've been away for a week at a house on stilts in the Adirondack mountains on the shores of lovely Lake Champlain. I read a lot. I played a lot of tennis. I took my niece to the beach and I had leisurely afternoon naps. We entertained and we went out for cocktails. We cooked but kept it simple: haddock grilled with a caper dressing, potatoes with slow roasted cherry tomatoes, marinated green beans, salads with nuts and cheese for lunch, open face cucumber sandwiches, uncooked pasta sauces, and lots of fresh fruits (melons, blueberries, nectarines and peaches).

This recipe, for an egg souffle, is so simple and so light tasting (ah, the deception of eggs, whip cream and cheese) I thought it a perfect post holiday entry back into cooking and food blogging. Try to serve as soon as it comes out of the oven because it rises roughly 2 inches out of the pastry shell and looks almost airborne.

Sugar Snap Peas

Sometimes, when something is in season, it's easy to go overboard and eat that thing all the time until it makes you sick to even think about eating one more bite (cherries, asparagus, watermelon, corn, apples, winter squash all come to mind). But then there are other things whose season is so short and so gracious that you are left with a yearning. This is a good feeling I think and one of them many blessings of eating seasonally -- you get tempted, you give in, until you are met with resistance and then the cycle begins anew with a whole different flirtation. Anyway, one of those things is sugar snap peas. Delicious, generously sweet, crunchy, bursting with flavour and personality -- who could resist? Having nibbled on these both raw and slightly seasoned all morning, noon and early afternoon I now suspend my urge for at least a fortnight.

Toss lightly steamed sugar snap peas with coarse herbed (provencial spices) salt, large cracks of pepper and a dense aromatic sesame oil. Add black sesame seeds if you wish. And then eat a whole plateful!

Sundried Tomato Cheese Spread

I realize this image won't be winning any food photography contests but it does taste good which is the ultimate goal now isn't it.

I'm not a sandwich fan. Never have been (unless it's a toasted piece of thin chewy dense bread, spread with lemon mayo or garlic aiolli, thinly sliced tomato, thinly sliced cucumber, and a wedge of avocado all sprinkled with coarse salt and chunky bits of pepper then I'm yours forever). But other people seem to be and since I cook for other people a lot I figured I'd better keep coming up with new sandwich arrangements.

I'm a composed salad type of girl which means I like to combine a dense leafy green salad with 2 other kinds: maybe a legume, maybe a grain, whatever, the choices are endless and I have a repertoire of too many to list here. Others like salads but mostly as a side to their sandwich. This I have come to respect. Today at lunch I made a curried lentil salad with chopped parsley and grape tomatoes quartered, a large green cabbage and carrot coleslaw with mint and cilantro, a green baby spinach salad with sunflower seeds, some polenta slices grilled with pesto and a melted butter/parmesan dressing (decadent!), and these tomato basil wraps. The sundried tomato cheese mixture was spread over the wraps, lined with fresh spinach and basil leaves, layered with long cucumber spears, sprinkled with salt and pepper and then WRAPPED.

The Gift of Good Land

This is a new category: diving ducks are a kind of duck that dives (well, obviously) for its food and it is derived of the Aythyini tribe which includes the pochard, scaup, etc. I wanted a free-wheelin' section where I could discuss food related trivia or topics. So this is it.

For anyone who ever thought, contemplated or dreamed of becoming a farmer (or marrying one!) this is a must read book. Wendell Berry, an Arkansas poet/farmer/agricultural activist/food essayist is just one of those critical people in a field of bell weather types. He's articulate, humourous, and unsettlingly truthful in his ruminations about the American land. I'm a Canadian but I still get 'it'.

I was very pleased to see a quote of his used in the introduction of a piece in July's Gourmet Magazine. He's become mainstream which is wonderful yet unsurprising. As I flipped through the produce issue of Gourmet as well as the cherry issue of Saveur I kept coming across the following key words: regional, back to the land, fresh produce, local produce, organic wine, organic food, the slow movement, harvests, cross pollinations, specialty produce, simple food, homey food, etc... woo hoo, I couldn't be more thrilled. Gone are the 80's, finally!

Now I like a decadent night out eating fabulous food as much as the next person but I still think the experience can be grounded in a sort of wholeness. I love it when I know the chef has taken care to find the best local cheese/meat/produce and matched it well with perfectly selected small producer wines.

Years ago, in 1999 to be exact, I lived on a trailer park in an old farm house with my then carpenter boyfriend. It was when I first became interested in a sustainable way of living: I read the Nearings' book on the simple life, I thought of taking up beekeeping, I wanted to excavate the basement so we could can and jar and live from the cellar all winter, I got all the old Harrowsmith trade books from the Perth library and read up on sourcing ancient agricultural equipment, we grew our first very large garden that had tiny chile peppers, long elegant French beans, perfect green and red peppers, tiny pop-in-your-mouth grape tomatoes, 4 foot tall lemon balm plants, etc... all bordered by giant Russian sunflowers. It was quite a summer. But life took hold of us, being in our mid 20s and restless and curious, and Dave moved to Yellowknife and I moved to Toronto and our lives unfolded in different directions.

Instead I took an urban beekeeping course at Field to Table in Toronto and I do as much as I can to sustain a healthy and wild window box garden of herbs when I'm there. Now I live in the country, if for only a short 4 month season, but it's my time to tour the back roads and chat with the folk who live in the hills and keep sheep or an orchard. And it's my time to read up on the people I admire the most like Wendell Berry. Not only does he believe in the ever lasting rewards of responsible stewardship on his Arkansas farm, he travels to remote places like Peru to understand the mechanisms of traditional agriculture.

If there were a Canadian Wendell Berry I fear I'd hunt him down and poison him with Cupid's arrow and make him my own.

Perfectly Hard Boiled Eggs

The hard boiled egg seems to be one of those great culinary mysteries of the world. It always appears to be only a matter of minutes or seconds before your egg goes from slightly gooey to hard and crumbly with a small shadow of grey/green circling the yolk. Lately I've been having great luck with hard boiling eggs. It might have something to do with the vast amount I'm doing at the same time (about 14) or it might not. I put 14 eggs on the bottom of a shallow pot and cover them with cold water. I then bring the water to a boil, let it boil for 5 minutes, turn off the heat, cover for another 5 minutes with a lid, and then drain and set the eggs back in the pot with cold water and ice cubes to cool. The yolk has been golden, flaky and slightly sweet while the white part remains tender and not too rubbery. The peeling of the hard boiled eggs depends on the freshness of the egg so when I order flats of eggs from the wholesale produce store or if I pick them up from Hamilton Brothers Farm Equipment then it means the shell comes off in miniscule messy bits leaving a rather tortured and scarred looking egg. It's really best to hard boil eggs that are at least 1 week old. Then the shell seems to literally fall away from the slippery whites.

Oyster Mushrooms

Today I received another culinary gift. When people enjoy your food and understand the essence of the relationship between cook and eater/eatee they often feel the need to give something back. While I understand this desire to partake it's unneccessary because THIS IS MY JOB but I am also very thankful for the generosity. I love anything in life that is balanced on giving and receiving out of utter goodwill.

These are oyster mushrooms freshly cultivated a few days ago. And are they not the picture of fragile beauty? The exterior is a sheathe of velvet while the underside looks like a tulled gathered bunch of fabric, either that or the thinly layered shales of Canadian Shield sedimentary rock. There's a grace and a dancer's pose to mushrooms like these and yet they are grounded in an earthy muskiness that gives them their power.

These are courtesy of a woman named Denise who was in last week's workshop. Her son runs a farm called _The Grove_ and he is located in Stayner, ON and can be reached at mushrooms@sympatico.ca for orders.

I'll post whatever it is I end up cooking with these mushrooms. Ideas would be extremely welcome.