Summer Lovin'

It's September now, but summer days are still here in spirit. It's been colder outside these days and I am not quite ready to accept the autumn. Looking back at this summer, I think my best culinary discovery was not a new thing, but rather a rekindling of my love for tomatoes. I had grown so accustomed to the hard, grainy, tasteless tomatoes found in the grocery store, that I had given up on them. However, I remember the day at the Farmer's Market when I saw the curiously beautiful "black cherry tomato," and I couldn't resist. I popped one straight into my mouth and I was transported to my youth when tomatoes grew in my mom's backyard, and we would sneak out into the backyard to eat my mom's crop during the Brady Bunch. The cherry tomatoes were so juicy and fresh, we would gobble them up and when my mom would go out into the backyard, she would find her vegetable garden raided by her children.

A colleague of mine, who happens to be Italian, told me that Italians only eat tomatoes when they are ripe and that's why there is such a profound tradition of canning tomatoes to enjoy throughout the year when the snow is on the ground and the sun is now where to be seen. Perhaps next year, that will be on my to-do list!

This summer, I fell in love again and we feasted on the meaty beefsteaks, gorged on the workhorse romas and snacked on the sexy cousins, the marble-sized orbs, cherry tomatoes.

Several weeks ago, I was in Montreal and found myself in heaven at the Jean Talon Market. Bushels upon bushels of roma tomatoes, hand-tied chilis dangling from tarpulin roofs, and large buckets filled with fragrant bunches of basil. Of course, it was absolutely frustrating trying to walk through the aisles and not buy anything to take home! Oh and the heirlooms! I almost cried when Ryan told me they wouldn't be able to make the train ride home two days later. Sigh.

However, all that pent-up demand drove me straight into the arms of the farmer's at the St. Lawrence North Market the following Saturday. I bought a small basket of romas. Oh boy, did we enjoy those bad boys.



Roma Tomato Salad
5 roma tomatoes - cut into 8ths
1 tbsp of olive oil
1 tsp lemon juice
4 basil leaves, chopped roughly
grinding of salt and pepper
1/4 c of large caperberries
2 tbsp of goat cheese

1. Toss the tomatoes, olive oil, basil and lemon juice together.
2. Season with salt and pepper, as you like.
3. Top with crumbled goat cheese and caperberries.
4. Enjoy!

Arriba Arriba

I love salsa. But then again, who doesn't? I read somewhere that salsa has over taken ketchup as the #1 condiment. Is it any wonder? As a kid, I greedily munched on nachos generously dipped in the large club-size jar of salsa and I thought I was in heaven. I loved the salty crunch of the nachos contrasted by the tangy piquante salsa. Oooh heavenly. I would eat way too many and my mom would get angry when she found me on the floor moaning partially with glee and with some regret for having eaten that one last chip.

When we went to Mexico several years ago, I realized we had not even touched the tip of the iceberg of what Mexican cuisine was or could be. Real mexican food is fresh, clean-tasting, pungent and sweet. It is truly night and day from the food that is passed off as Mexican at home. We enjoyed our Mexican resort holiday although it is not our typical vacation. It was a nice week to get away and sit in the sun and wash off the weariness of a icy February in Toronto. We reclined like scaly lizards poolside sipping on slushy drinks and wondered what we would have at our next meal. Resort food isn't usually something people write home about. However, the food at this resort wasn't bad at all. I squealed with delight with the mounts of guacamole and the hot crispy nachos straight out of the fryer. I live for guac and I could have eaten it all week.

Yesterday during our weekly jaunt to the North Market, we found a half pint of tomatillos for $1. How could I resist? I had seen Tyler Florence make a gorgeous tomatillo sauce for enchilladas this week and I was already inspired. The tomatillo sighting put me over the top.

Salsa Verde
1/2 pint of tomatillos (about 5 medium sized)
1/2 pint of cherry tomatoes
1 small white onion, cut into chunks
3 cloves of garlic - rough chop
juice from 1 lemon
1 tsp of sugar
1 tsp of salt
1 tbsp of olive oil

Peel the brown papery husks and wash the tomatillos. It's abit sticky so washing them makes it a little more pleasant. I don't know what would happen, but it takes off the dust and dirt from transport. Chop the tomatillos roughly.

Heat the olive oil and add onions, garlic and tomatillos. Saute until onions are translucent. Add tomatoes (I bet if you had extra roasted tomatoes, it would really create a nice depth to the salsa), sugar, and salt. Once heated through, take off heat and whiz in a food processor. Pulse it so you still have large chunks.

Refrigerate until cold and serve with nachos.

Makes 2 cups

It's very addictive. We gobbled this up greedily even though we were stuffed from Sunday supper.

Caribbean Dreaming - Shrimp Banana Curry

My first trip to Central America was to the beautiful country of Belize. It is a laid-back country with a blend of Caribbean and Latin cultures with a British Commonwealth infrastructure. The country pushes out into the warm Caribbean Sea on one side and is bordered by Mexico's Yucatán Peninsula and rugged jungles of Guatemala. The country primarily attracts two distinct travellers: the eco-tourist who marvel at the unspoilt wonders of Belize's tropical rainforests and the serious diver who aims to explore the second largest barrier reef in the world in all its underwater splendour. Belize’s beautiful islands slightly off its coasts are wonderful jumping off points to view sting rays, nurse shark, flying fish and dolphins. It is a warm, welcoming place where people are friendly and kind with where an astounding level of bio-diversity continues to thrive.


The first time I had banana curry was our first night in Belize. I had never conceived of banana as a curry ingredient when I first saw it on a menu, but as usual, my culinary curiosity left me with no choice but to try it. It was truly decadent - the curry was smooth, creamy, and luscious. There were no visible signs that bananas were in the dish but the taste was unmistakable. As the banana warms, it melts into the curry mellowing out the spices. It lends a warm sweetness to the shrimp that transports you to the warm, breezy nights on Ambergris Caye.

I love this recipe because the smooth, sweet curry is flecked with black mustard seeds and the shrimp really gives it a real exotic feel.

Shrimp Banana Curry
3 ripe bananas broken into pieces
1 lb of raw shrimp
1 c of light coconut milk
1/2 small onion -diced
1/2 small pepper - diced
3 carrots - small coins
1 c of baby tomatoes - sliced in half (I used heirlooms today)
2 tbsp of butter
1/4 tsp of black mustard seed
1/4 tsp of tumeric
1/4 garam masala
1 pinch of red pepper flakes
1 tbsp of parsley - chopped finely

1. Heat pan and add butter. When the butter is foamy, add shrimp. Flip shrimp over after 1 minute. After another minute, the shrimp should start to curl but is not thoroughly cooked. Remove from the pan and set aside.
2. Add the black mustard seeds, garam masala and tumeric. The heat will start to roast the spices and releases the aromas. Do not let it burn otherwise it will become acrid and you'll need to start over.
3. Once the spices start to roast, add the bananas, onion, carrots, and pepper. Stir to coat the bananas and vegetables. Once the bananas hit the heat of the pan, they begin to melt. When the vegetables have heated through and the bananas have mostly dissolved, add the coconut milk.
4. Cover and let simmer for 5 - 10 minutes until the vegetables are tender.
5. Just before you are about to serve, return the shrimp to the pan, add the tomatoes, and sprinkle the parsley. Fold gently and plate.

Serve with rice or noodles.

Even for people who don't typically like curry, they will find the banana curry interesting and unexpected. It is not spicy and does not have a strong scent which sometimes puts people off. It has more of a Caribbean feel than an East Indian one.

Gallic Inspiration: Moules Mariniere

I think if there is one place I could travel to over and over, it's France. There are few places in this world that soothe my culinary soul the way France does. It is quite clear to me as to why this is: It is the marriage of food and travel. Here you can enjoy the world's finest cuisine in celebrated restaurants as well as the little unpretentious gems frequented by the locals and all of this highly accessible thanks to a fantastic and extensive train system and Grade 12 French class.

And of course, my return luggage is a Canadian Customs officer's curiousity. They unzip my luggage only to find a chef's menagerie of sel gris, truffle oil, herbes de provence, wine, dark chocolate, and whatever exotic Gallic delights the country offers me. I have learned overtime, you can't bring back butter, or foie gras laced with black truffles no matter how much you plead. And boy do I try.

During our last visit to France, we took the train to Dieppe in the northern province of Normandy. We had spent the better part of the week exploring the fine cuisine Paris had to offer and now we craved soemthing more rustic and indicative of how people eat everyday.

The town of Dieppe is several hours away from Paris and we enjoyed the slow langourous ride through the French countryside. Rolling pastoral green fields stretch out beyond the horizon, occasionally interupted by small farmhouses frame after frame like pages of National Geographic. It was serene.

When we arrived in Dieppe, there was a distinct smell that city people don't experience often: the sharp metallic smell of the sea. It is a briny and strangely fresh smell that appeals to anyone who loves seafood. It's the smell of that kind of fresh. As we strolled past the many seaside bistros, it became apparently clear what the part of Normandy had to offer us today: Mussels.

Every bistro along the boat quay advertised its the daily special on hinged blackboards out front. It beckoned like a siren to hungry tourists to stop in for a little lunch in the seaside beach town. Moules et frites. Mussels and fries. Who could resist the shiny onyx shells lured open by a fragrant boozy steam to reveal dedicate saffron coloured mollusks in light garlic studded broth and a large bowlful of crisp delicate potato matchsticks and creamy pale mayonaise? So we stopped in and ordered huge bowls of steamy mussels and watched as boats bob up and down and fashionable French tourists wondered if they should stop for a bite. It was ridiculously contagious.

But today, we were at home missing that day. So, we decided when we were at St. Lawrence Market this morning, we would take a peek at the huge tank of PEI mussels at the fishmonger's. If the stars were aligned, we were going to have a delicious lunch that would transport us back to that summer day by the sea in Northern France.


Moules Mariniere
2 pounds of PEI mussels (bearded & cleaned)
1 small onion - diced
1/2 small pepper - diced
2 small carrots - sliced into coins
1 c of halved baby heirloom tomatoes
1/2c of white dry vermouth
3 cloves of crushed garlic (we love garlic)
1 tbsp of butter

In a pot large enough to hold the mussels, melt the butter until it is foamy and hot. Add the onion and garlic and saute until softened. Turn down the heat slightly and add the peppers, and carrots. Cook until the vegetables start to soften. Add the cleaned mussels to the pots and pour the vermouth on top. Cover. After two minutes, add the tomatoes to the pot and cover the pot again. Steam until the mussels open. Pour into a large serving dish and serve with slices of cursty baguette or fries.

My summer time snack

Several years ago, I took a leave of absence from work and spent a huge chunk of time touring SE Asia. It was a wonderful time for me... It really broadened my horizons and really crystallized what it meant to be me.

Although, it wasn't primarily a culinary journey but rather one of self-discovery, I often look back at that experience and the foods I became acquainted with through the wonderful people I met with great affection.

One of these majestic places is a little country named Laos. In fact, I ended up in Laos not really by design. I headed to Laos to kill time - I was returning home in a month and I was a little bored and a little restless. What I found was a cultural wonder filled with an unspoiled landscape, a generous people and a balance of old world tradition creeping toward development. Really very humbling.

One night, in a backpacking town called Vangvieng, I had this wonderful dish called Laap. It is a minced meat served with a sticky rice which is very popular in Laos and Thailand. My version is adapted for the modern life. It is fantastic for lunch when it is too hot and steamy to eat anything but a delicious salad.

I use Boston lettuce because its buttery leaves are my favorite. They make wonderful cups for this dish.

Minced Turkey in Lettuce Cups with Tea Rice

1 package of minced turkey
1 tbsp vegetable oil
1 tbsp of light soy sauce
1 tbsp of nuc mam (Vietnamese fish sauce - if you don't have it, just use extra soy sauce)
1 pinch of red chili peppers
1 tsp of minced garlic
1/2 green or red pepper - small dice
1/2 small onion - small dice
1 head of Bottuce lettuce - leaves washed, separated, and dried

1 c of Japanese sushi rice, uncooked
1 tsp of Jasmine tea

garnish: fried onions*

1. Cook rice following the package instructions.
2. In a coffee grinder, whiz up the jasmine tea into a fine powder. If you don't have a grinder, open a tea bag of jasmine tea. Sprinkle over hot cooked rice and turn gently with a rice paddle. Cover.
3. Heat a large skillet, add vegetable oil. When the oil begins to shimmer, add onions and garlic and the package of ground turkey and break up meat as it cooks. When the meat is mostly cooked (ie. there is still some pink), add pepper, soy sauce, fish sauce and red pepper flakes. Cook until fully cooked and the juices run clear.
4. Place several lettuce cups on a plate.
5. Scoop a small amount of the jasmine tea rice into the lettuce cup and top with a small amount of the minced turkey. Sprinkle a little bit of the fried onions on top and dig in.

*The fried onions I am referring to are the deep fried crispy onions that are often sold in the Asian grocery stores.

15 minute soup: Creamy Corn & Potato Chowder

It was a busy week... but I managed to squeeze out a quick recipe. I looked into my fridge and cobbled together some vegetables for a delicious corn chowder. Sometimes if we are making potatoes for dinner, I make extra and store them in the fridge for quick meals during the week.


Cream Corn & Potato Chowder
1 c of corn kernels
3 stalks of celery - diced
1 large carrot - diced
1 small yellow onion - diced
1 small orange pepper - diced
6 new potatoes - boiled & cooled & diced
1 tbsp of minced garlic
1/2 tsp of dried dill
3 tsp of chicken / vegetable bouillon in 1 c of water
(if you have chicken stock use that instead)
1 l of skim milk
1 tbsp of olive oil

1. Heat oil in pan, saute garlic and onion until onion starts to sweat.
2. Add diced celery, carrot, potato, pepper and dill. Saute until soft.
3. Once the vegetables are heated through, add the chicken stock or the bouillon powder mixed with water. Heat until bubbling and turn down heat to low-medium.
4. Add the milk and cover with lid. Stir often to ensure that the soup does not stick to the bottom of the pot.
5. When the soup is heated through, plunge an immersion hand blender into the soup pot. Ensure the blender is fully immersed as the soup is very hot and could cause serious burns. Don't blend it until you have a puree but leave it rather thick and chunky. You still want to see the vegetables but blending the vegetables creates nice creaminess and beautiful texture.

It is literally a 15 minute soup if you buy the pre-packaged diced vegetables.