These lovely cranberry beans seduced me with their freckles. I bought several handfuls of the beans still in their shells. Unfortunately, about 20 minutes of boiling and they aren't so pretty.
But they're still quite tasty if you top them with a squeeze of lemon juice, a smidge of olive oil, a sprinkle of parsley and some salt and pepper. Eat them cold or warm.
"Guess what I made?" I exclaimed on the phone. When I rushed breathlessly into the next word "Mayonnaise," I could almost hear one eyebrow rise, the crinkling of a forehead.
"Whhhhy?" my friend said in a drawl.
Indeed.
I suppose it was simply that I could. I'd never considered it a possibility but thought I'd give it a chance to see what the big deal was on all the foodie blogs.
Plus, when I looked at the recipe, I realized it actually only takes a few minutes and a handful of ingredients. So why not?
You just toss a raw egg, oil, salt, pepper and lemon juice in a blender. Well, technically you should slowly drizzle in most of the oil but I accidentally dumped half of it in before realizing that.
It was forgiving. Which makes me believe it really is that simple.
Mayonnaise
(Adapted from Mark Bittman's How to Cook Everything)
In a blender, mix:
1 egg
1/2 tsp. mustard (preferably Dijon but dry also works)
Salt and pepper to taste
2 Tbsp. fresh lemon juice
1/4 cup olive, canola or vegetable oil
Blend for a few seconds and then begin drizzling another 3/4 cup of oil into the blender in a slow drizzle. If it's too thick, you can add a bit more oil or a touch of warm water.
Note that the taste of the oil becomes really prominent in this recipe so choose a good one. I used half olive oil and half canola.
Also, remember that because mayonnaise contains raw egg, your homemade concoction won't last much longer than a week.
So, the question in the end is whether it was worth it. Yes, if just to realize a cup of mayonnaise basically equals a cup of oil.
Thought I'd present a few food- and drink-related photos from my recent trip to Guatemala, the reason for my conspicuous absence from the blogosphere.
They are in order, and fittingly Guatemala's pride and joy, the beer Gallo, was our first taste of the Central American country.
Guacamole was also one of the first, and most often, consumed foods.
I was warned about Guatemala's breakfasts. Not everyone likes a blob of black beans, eggs and fried plantains for breakie. I enjoyed these for a few days and then I was done.
In the heart of Guatemala's old capital of Antigua, you'll find this quaint little McDonald's. Note the classy signage. The city has been declared a UNESCO World Heritage site and a local committee also seeks to preserve its colonial style by getting rid of such gaudiness as big yellow Ms and other ads.
Colourful candies in the market. Not sure what's in them.
We visited a coffee plantation near Antigua. Unfortunately, the latest crop of coffee berries was just a twinkle of a flower but we got to see workers still sorting through the thousands of pounds of green beans from the last harvest. One of the machines shakes 'em till they line up in like sizes then shoot into bags. Not sure how they are accurately sorted, though I sure stared hard to try to figure it out.
The plantation's warehouses had 150-pound bags piled high to the ceiling. I asked my tour guide how much for one? He said $100. I said, "I'll take it." He laughed.
Then he sold me a wee bag for $6.
Another cup of weak coffee. All the good stuff is exported to the U.S. so Starbucks snobs can drink it. For the locals, only the worst.
Beside it is a bowl of "oatmeal." Really it was just a bowl of milk with cream of wheat granules in it, I suspect. Oh, and a dash of cinnamon.
The most delicious soup: avocado and turkey. I smile thinking about it.
Carnivore's delight. A butcher stand at a Friday market in the town of Solola. Pick your carcass.
Also at the market, which draws locals from around the area near Lake Atitlan. Tourists are few and easily bowled over by locals on the hunt for the week's supply of food.
Tortillas come in all sizes and colours, even purple.
Sorry to add a blurry photo but my left hand was burning while my right hand tried to capture this shot. The barbecued corn is nestled on a piece of husk. On the edge is a mound of salt and a slice of lime to rub all over it. Truly tasty. And an idea that's easy to try here at home.
Adious.
Perhaps I have a little of my Oma in me. She adores apricots any which way. Last Christmas she steamed a bunch of them in the microwave, melted some white chocolate and served it as an appetizer. Mostly for herself. She also makes these crescent-shaped apricot stuffed cookies for Christmas.
Me, I don't like apricots so much. That was before I tried these squares.
It's a surprise I even found them. A small group of the little squares were hidden on a lower platter in the middle of a professional spread of food at a book launch party. Maybe it was because the squares were so obviously homemade, the only such goodies in a sea of designer tarts.
Soon enough I was directing everyone within earshot, whispering loudly that I'd discovered the tastiest treat of them all and coyly pointing to the unassuming squares. Being a little tipsy at that point, I don't recall whether anyone seconded my opinion.
But I've already been asked for the recipe.
Unfortunately, unlike most of my favourite recipes, this one is no slapdash affair. Don't try to do this 30 minutes before you're due at a cocktail party. But my boss, who kindly allowed me to publish this recipe for the world to see and hopefully eat, has a little trick. And that makes it worth the consuming cooking time.
She cuts the square into blocks and freezes them. Not only does freezing make it easier to cut the squares, it also makes it easier to pull these out for an impromptu party or one you're just to lazy to cook for.
First, prepare your dried apricots. You want to rehydrate them so the end result melts in your mouth as opposed to gnawing through them with your teeth. Put two eight-ounce packages of apricot in a saucepan and cover with water. Simmer until tender but not mushy. It may take about 15 minutes. I found that because I used two different packages of apricots, they cooked at different rates so I recommend sticking to one brand.
Drain. Let cool.
Next up: graham base and topping. (It does double duty.)
In a large bowl, mix together the following:
Take half a cup of the mix and reserve it for the topping. Dump the rest into a rectangular baking pan and press it firmly and somewhat evenly.
Bake at 350 for about 10 minutes.
This is where the dreamy part comes in: mixing the softened apricots with sugary goodness.
In a large mixing bowl, beat two eggs until frothy. Then add the following:Cut the apricots into chunks, about three pieces each, and then add those too. Mix. Taste. And then spread over the graham base.
I don't recommend dumping it in the middle since smearing the mixture around can cause cracks in the graham crust. I used my hands for this, seeing as they are more gentle than a wooden spoon. Or at least I hope they are.
Sprinkle the remaining graham mix on top. Bake at 350 for 30 to 40 minutes, or until the edges have browned.
Cut when cool. Even better, as mentioned before, you can freeze large portions and then cut when partially thawed just in time for that party you almost forgot about.
Four ingredients. Two minutes prep. Endless compliments.
This is the most date-worthy recipe in my repertoire. It takes mere minutes to make, is almost impossible to screw up and makes a hell of an impression.
It's been described as the most perfect use of prosciutto by one friend. I won't argue.
It was in fact a university roommate who recited the recipe to me one day when I was desperate for a birthday dinner idea. She had just seen an episode of Jamie Oliver's The Naked Chef and jotted the recipe down. Not that there is much to it.
At the time I had no idea what prosciutto was and remember timidly asking the butcher at Loblaws for it, completely mangling the pronunciation and unsure of what I would get.
The key, as I've learned over the years, is to make sure you're not getting the butt end of the prosciutto with its puny serving spoon-sized slices but instead longer ones that you can envelop your salmon in.
Since that first somewhat awkward introduction to prosciutto, I've made the recipe a thousand times ... and not just to impress. It's a recipe I make at least once or twice a month for myself because it's just so damn easy and tasty.
In fact, my garden always has a sprig or two of lemon thyme growing in it just for this meal. That's how good it is.
Salmon wrapped in prosciutto
Ingredients:
1. Drizzle a little oil on a baking sheet or on some tin foil. Put the slices of prosciutto down, then place the salmon fillet on top.
2. Pull the leaves off the thyme if the stalks are woody. If they are tender, just chop them all up. Sprinkle on top of the salmon. Fold the prosciutto over so that the fish is completely wrapped. Drizzle oil on top.
3. Bake in oven at 400 F for 10-20 minutes, depending on thickness of the fillet. You can always just cut in the middle to check whether it's done and flaky. The prosciutto should be nice and crispy.
I like to serve this with a lemon linguine or risotto and broiled asparagus topped with a few sprinkles of salt and a slice of lemon on the side for fresh squeezing at the table.
Sometimes cooking for one feels like a chore, not worth the effort. After all, it's just for you so why bother?
But I think it's worth the bother. And it really doesn't have to take much time.
I've accumulated a rotating repertoire of recipes for those times when I come home and can't even fathom summoning enough energy to cook. Each one is fairly simple and sometimes they even come across as impressive.
The one recipe I make the most would have to be fresh tomato pasta sauce. It sounds like it would take all the effort in the world, but is actually ready in the time it takes to boil a big pot of water and cook the pasta.
The key to making the sauce feel like a treat is using high-quality ingredients, mainly the tomatoes.
Most of the time, good fresh tomatoes aren't available. And that's when I recommend using canned San Marzano tomatoes, which are so sweet you'll never go back.
(See pic below with San Marzano tomatoes dwarfing a can of the inferior kind.)
At its most basic, tomato sauce should include:
1. Heat the oil in a pan over medium-low heat. Add garlic or shallots. Stir and cook until sweating.
2. Add tomatoes. If using whole canned tomatoes, instead of dicing them, I usually grab them from the can and crush them with my hand before placing in the pan.
3. Stir regularly. Cook at medium-high heat for about 10 minutes or until consistency seems sauce-like.
4. Add salt and pepper to taste.
The best part about this recipe is it has infinite variations. At the end, you can top it with freshly grated Parmesan or mix in Ricotta. Fresh parsley or basil also taste great.
The oil can be substituted with butter, with an extra dab added at the end. (Like the sauce in the pictures.)
Or you can add red pepper flakes when cooking the shallot or garlic to add some kick.
There are more possibilities, but I'll save them for another time.
Can you eat cherry blossoms? I'm not sure, but that would be a convenient excuse to post these sakura pics on my food blog.
How about the fact that I went that I went to High Park in the pouring rain to join some friends for a Hanami picnic?
Hanami literally translates to flower viewing, and in Japan is a springtime ritual of lazing on a tarp under a thick ceiling of dainty sakura, or cherry blossoms. But the get-together wouldn't be complete without a few bottles of sake and a whole slew of snacks.
It was more than a little drizzly on Sunday afternoon, but a few of us still managed to gather under a protective roof and eat the day away with samplings of yakisoba, mochi, gooey chocolate chip cookies and more Japanese chips and chocolates than I could name.
Unfortunately, I forgot to take pictures of the edible offerings being too enamoured with the flowers. But really, that's how a hanami party should be.
Often, I find myself insisting friends come over for dinner. I enjoy cooking for them, whether it be a hasty concoction from whatever is left in my fridge or a blog recipe that I've been drooling over.
But the best part is having company since so often my meals are scarfed down in front of a computer monitor or eaten on my couch with my plate perched on my lap.
So it is a special treat to not only have a guest but have them cook for me as well. And especially to wake up to a chocolate chip pancake extravaganza after lazily sleeping in until noon.
On Sunday, D. made me his special chocolate chip pancakes. It's a recipe he's perfected over the years and can throw together on a whim. (Perhaps if I'm lucky he'll let me post it.)
But this time he pimped it up with a slathering of whip cream topped with raspberries and slices of mango. And in a last second Emeril Lagasse "kick it up a notch" style inspiration, he sprinkled it all in cocoa.
And when we'd eaten more than we thought we could eat, he nudged me and said, "Hey, maybe this can be a guest blog."
"Maybe," I replied, none too surely.
But here it is. Maybe not so much a blog by a guest, but a blog entry about great guests.
This spring tantalized and teased us with an early wave of hot weather. Like many I swapped my winter clothes for summer ones and started eyeing up the fresh produce section of my grocery store for the first edible signs of spring.
But in the past few days, I've been reaching into my closet for gloves and digging deep into my cupboards for comfort food.
And so as rain dripped drearily in the dog park outside my window, I pulled out the traditional winter staple: oatmeal.
I always used to toss whatever instant oatmeal was on hand into a pot and boil it to death with the requisite amount of water. But during one of my many nights flipping through cookbooks, I noticed a recipe for oatmeal in Mark Bittman's How to Cook Everything.
The recipe is quite simple and there's nothing all that remarkable about it (though the addition of butter did give me pause). But what the recipe did was make me think about the fact that oatmeal doesn't have to be the nasty gruel you grew up with. Like almost anything, it can take on a little gourmet flair.
To that I end I drizzled mine with wildflower honey, poured on
thick organic cream, then tossed in some raspberries.
And I have to admit that while savouring that steaming bowl of oatmeal, it didn't seem so bad that spring is taking its sweet time.
Oatmeal
Adapted from Mark Bittman's How to Cook Everything
Ingredients:
2 1/4 cups water
A dash of salt
1 cup rolled oats
A spoonful of butter (I think this is the key...)
1. Combine the water, salt and oats in a small pot. Turn heat to high, then turn down to low when the water boils. Cook, stirring, until water is just absorbed, about five minutes. Add butter. Turn off heat.
2. About five minutes later, uncover pan.
3. Put oatmeal in bowl, stir in sweeters such as brown sugar, maple syrup or honey and cream or milk.
Don't you just want to lick them?
I know, I know. Your mom told you to never eat dough because it has *gasp* raw eggs in it and you could get Salmonella and die a slow painful death.
Well, I'm not scared of no raw eggs. In fact I do recall my farmer dad regaling me with tales of his grandfather and his one-raw-egg-a-day regime. My father also dared my brother and I to gulp down a raw egg whole, for a prize, of course -- a calf. My brother won and made a fair chunk of change.
In my house, cookie and other types of dough were always being eaten out of the bowl and off the beaters. When a Japanese woman came to live with us for a month, she introduced us to seaweed and tea ceremony; we introduced her the wonders of cookie dough.
Funny that she thought us strange because it was living in Japan that I learned the savory pleasures of eating raw egg. There's nothing like sukiyaki, boiling thin strips of beef then swishing them in raw egg, or katsu-don, a breaded pork cutlet over rice and topped with onions and raw egg.
All I'm trying to say is raw eggs aren't so bad. The creaminess they add to both dessert and dinner dishes has no rival.
And so I urge you to make this most delicious Double Chocolate Brownie recipe and take the time to lick your beaters and bowl clean.
If you're still too nervous about licking the bowl clean because of the egg, this recipe offers an alternative -- a bowl of chocolate, butter and cocoa that has to be melted down on the stove. Also very tasty.
I decided to use some of my pricier chocolate for the brownies, just to give it added richness. Fortunately, I had just been at Soma Chocolatemaker in the Distillery District where I bought some of their Peruvian 64 per cent cocoa dark chocolate and a 75 per cent cocoa dark chocolate bar by Chocovic.
In the end the dough was marvelous ... and the resulting brownies weren't half bad either.
