Up on College is the best ice cream (note: not gelato, which is different, and possibly always better - can't decide) I've had since the cheap-o vanilla by Alpha we used to get by the bucket in the '80s in Alberta or the daily Häagen-Dazs (yes, I had to look up how to spell that) cookie dough ice cream we bought by the cup-full that holiday in Hawai'i in the '90s.
Now, my favourite flavour of ice cream under normal circumstances, would have to be Tiger. Which is very rare, to my dismay, these days. Rootbeer Float isn't bad either, but it is often disappointing. And then there are the great chocolate ice creams and licorice ice cream (black as night and sometimes easier to find than Tiger) and, well, I could go on.
Ici doesn't have any of these flavours, though. Except chocolate. But it is amazing i-c nonetheless. Let me start at the beginning. Vanilla ice cream is boring. And pedestrian. And not worth $4 (or so) a scoop under any circumstances. Right? Wrong-o. If I didn't need variety in my ice-cream life, I would never get anything else. Well, except maybe vanilla malt.
A few weeks ago when we were in line some hot night at Ici, I met a woman who has been going a few times a week since it opened (did I mention the ice cream genius in the back with eggs and cream used to be the pastry chef at Chez Panisse, or so I've heard?) and keeps swearing to try something new, but each time she goes she can't imagine not getting their (absolutely divine) vanilla. So she has never tried anything else, if you can believe it.
The first ice cream I had at Ici was ginger. And frankly, I find it hard to try anything else after that, too. Their ice cream is really (ice) CREAM - think very, very rich - and full of amazing bursting flavours. I had a sorbet there for the first time a few weeks ago, and thought I'd died and gone to heaven. It had the strongest, most powerful scent and taste of raspberry (maybe 'cause it had lime too) I've ever experienced. I'm not so fond of their chocolate, which is a bit too mild for my taste, and the second sorbet (pluot, which a few weeks ago was my favourite fruit to buy at the Bowl) was just too too sweet.
But for the ginger ice cream, the saffron ice cream, the malted vanilla and homemade burnt caramel and toffee, what a place! Hmmm. . . perhaps we should go tonight. . .
Friday, August 31, 2007
Birthday Meals
This is such a belated post that I'm not sure I can do justice to the two reviews I was going to conduct, namely of Rick n' Ann's and of Venus. So I'll just say this. I went to R & A twice in two weeks and now have no need to ever go again. Nothing wrong, but I'm done for the time being.
Next: Venus. Well, we keep going back (for dinner - they used to just serve brunch) and I've never been disappointed. P started with corn pancakes, which were really delicious: fresh, with whole and ground corn, and a pleasant soft but crispy texture. P's ribs were good too, and I'm not a ribs fan. But my steak was really terrific, as was the beautiful heirloom tomato soup I had to begin. We'll just have to go back so that I have more to say. . .
But the part of my birthday meals I really need to post is this recipe for banana chocolate pancakes, with which we started our day. We used some old bananas and added a half cup or so of lovely bittersweet Callebaut, chopped nice and fine. I would highly recommend these pancakes (from AllRecipes) on birthdays and on unbirthdays.
Next: Venus. Well, we keep going back (for dinner - they used to just serve brunch) and I've never been disappointed. P started with corn pancakes, which were really delicious: fresh, with whole and ground corn, and a pleasant soft but crispy texture. P's ribs were good too, and I'm not a ribs fan. But my steak was really terrific, as was the beautiful heirloom tomato soup I had to begin. We'll just have to go back so that I have more to say. . .
But the part of my birthday meals I really need to post is this recipe for banana chocolate pancakes, with which we started our day. We used some old bananas and added a half cup or so of lovely bittersweet Callebaut, chopped nice and fine. I would highly recommend these pancakes (from AllRecipes) on birthdays and on unbirthdays.
INGREDIENTS
- 1 cup all-purpose flour
- 1 tablespoon white sugar
- 2 teaspoons baking powder
- 1/4 teaspoon salt
- 1 egg, beaten
- 1 cup milk
- 2 tablespoons vegetable oil
- 2 ripe bananas, mashed
DIRECTIONS
- Combine flour, white sugar, baking powder and salt. In a separate bowl, mix together egg, milk, vegetable oil and bananas.
- Stir flour mixture into banana mixture; batter will be slightly lumpy.
- Heat a lightly oiled griddle or frying pan over medium high heat. Pour or scoop the batter onto the griddle, using approximately 1/4 cup for each pancake. Cook until pancakes are golden brown on both sides; serve hot.
Salad & Sandwich
I may have finally perfected the grilled cheese sandwich. Of course, there is your standard tomato sandwich (thank you Dad, with a twist of my own): firm white bread, mayo on one side and butter on the other, thinly sliced tomatoes salted, peppered and herbed (dill and fresh oregano are nice; so is thyme) and, the old standby, extra-aged cheddar.
But then the weather started getting cooler, so I started making hot versions of the same thing, just with butter on the outside and no butter or mayo on the inside. Two layers of cheese with the tomatoes cradled within. Fontina is good; Jack is boring; Cheddar, of course, is excellent. But my crowning achievement (thanks to P, who bought the cheese) was using - inspiration! - smoked cheddar. Fry in a pan over low heat until all the cheese is leaking out and browning. Mmmm. . . good! I highly recommend it.
But who can eat sandwiches without salad? Actually, I can, and in quantity. Especially when they are the best sandwiches the world has ever known. But, we had a salad worth mentioning as well, so here's the recipe.
Vietnamese Beef Salad
(adapted from Street Cafe: Vietnam)
Have your butcher thinly slice 12 oz. sirloin. Marinate for 2 hours in:
1 tsp. honey
pinch sea salt
pinch pepper
1 clove garlic (minced)
1 shallot (minced)
1 stalk lemon grass (minced)
1 red chili (minced)
1//2 tsp. five-spice powder
Roast meat in marinade for 1 hour at 210F
Blend:
1 clove garlic (minced)
1 red chili (minced)
1/2 tsp. sea salt
1 tsp. icing sugar
4 fl oz white rice vinegar
This makes the dressing, which should be poured over the veggies:
1 green papaya, julienned
1 carrot, grated
Toss together, top with beef and:
1 tbsp. coriander (chopped)
2 tsp. roasted peanuts
But then the weather started getting cooler, so I started making hot versions of the same thing, just with butter on the outside and no butter or mayo on the inside. Two layers of cheese with the tomatoes cradled within. Fontina is good; Jack is boring; Cheddar, of course, is excellent. But my crowning achievement (thanks to P, who bought the cheese) was using - inspiration! - smoked cheddar. Fry in a pan over low heat until all the cheese is leaking out and browning. Mmmm. . . good! I highly recommend it.
But who can eat sandwiches without salad? Actually, I can, and in quantity. Especially when they are the best sandwiches the world has ever known. But, we had a salad worth mentioning as well, so here's the recipe.
Vietnamese Beef Salad
(adapted from Street Cafe: Vietnam)
Have your butcher thinly slice 12 oz. sirloin. Marinate for 2 hours in:
1 tsp. honey
pinch sea salt
pinch pepper
1 clove garlic (minced)
1 shallot (minced)
1 stalk lemon grass (minced)
1 red chili (minced)
1//2 tsp. five-spice powder
Roast meat in marinade for 1 hour at 210F
Blend:
1 clove garlic (minced)
1 red chili (minced)
1/2 tsp. sea salt
1 tsp. icing sugar
4 fl oz white rice vinegar
This makes the dressing, which should be poured over the veggies:
1 green papaya, julienned
1 carrot, grated
Toss together, top with beef and:
1 tbsp. coriander (chopped)
2 tsp. roasted peanuts
Friday, August 24, 2007
Three Memorable Meals in Sausalito
We spent two days in Sausalito this week, just enough time to eat three interesting (and in one case amazing) meals.
The first was at Avatar's, which is a family-run Indian restaurant specializing in fusion - specifically, Mexican-influenced Indian cuisine (!!!). It's in a strip mall, which isn't an entirely auspicious location, but we received a friendly greeting at the door and then were warmly welcomed by our waiter, whom I would guess is one of the owners. When we mentioned that we'd heard the food was excellent and that we were really looking forward to the meal, he took our menus away and announced, with a flourish, that he would bring us the perfect lunch. And, in fact, he did.
The meal started with real San Francisco sourdough bread, which was interesting in view of the decidedly non-European menu, but it was good bread, so I suppose I shouldn't complain that I didn't get chapatis instead. Then our light rosewater lassi arrived, which was lovely and cold and thin - nice in contrast with the thick mango lassi we tend to get across the Bay (and which tends to fill one up rather too much in concert with, say, cream-based chicken tikka masala).
Then the real food arrived: first, enchiladas, complete with a lovely, thick brown savoury "salsa" and melted cheese, served with homemade chutneys: mango, mint, pineapple and pear (the pear was particularly good), a bit of tasty rice and homemade carrot pickle, cold. The enchilada was divine. It was so hearty we thought it must have been made with beef or lamb, but it was so mild in flavour, so finely ground and so luxuriously spiced that we couldn't be sure. We found out later that we were eating ground turkey and pumpkin. Unbelievable!
On the right: a lovely bed of rice topped with grilled veggies - broccoli, cauliflower, carrots, zucchini - and two long rectangular pieces of. . . fish? Chicken? So beautifully browned we couldn't tell just by looking, but after cutting a piece we knew it certainly wasn't fish. The first bite was divine, but again, we were fooled by texture. It was like chicken, but too firm. Pork, it turns out, cooked slowly so that it became so tender it was almost like chicken. I don't know how they managed it, but the veggies and meat were grilled (or braised?) so carefully and slowly that parts of them turned to sugary goodness. What a wonderful meal! We are usually wary of fusion, but this place is GOOD!
Our second meal, that same night, was at Christophe's. We'd heard mixed reviews, but decided to try it anyway, and we were only disappointed by dessert, which was truly sub-par: the profiteroles were old and tough; the sugar on the crème brulée was burned. But our appys and mains were quite good, so I'll stick with those.
We ordered one three-course and one four-course prix fixe. P started with seared foie gras, which was really excellent. Served in a dark and rich gravy on a tiny piece of toast, it melted on the tongue. Course number two, the soupe à l'ognion, was good too - lots of tasty cheese, a good broth, but sour bread rather than sweet, which I found a bit odd. To be truthful, my own French onion soup is better, I think. (See the recipe below.) I started with a mushroom vol au vent, which consisted of a triangular "sandwich" of puff pastry dripping with a pale gravy and filled with mushrooms and thyme chopped nice and small. P enjoyed it a great deal, but I fear the pastry may have been straight out of the freezer. (I really think these people could use a pastry chef).
Then, the mains: coq au vin for me; onglet for P. Yes, we chose "traditional" French all the way. We were warned that these folks were French through and through, and indeed they were: the chef was joking with customers in French, our waitress took our orders in French, and many of the diners were French-speaking as well. I would say that the varying quality of our food was representative of middle- and lower-end dining in Paris as well. We learned there that if you want everything to be superb, you really have to pay (maybe this is why I prefer Italy, where all price-ranges contain top-notch food), but if you're willing to eat a few less-tasty options in favour of one really great entrée, go for the mid-range.
In any case, the chicken and steak were quite good. Christophe's has interesting ideas about presentation: every dish has a spray of (grilled? fried?) spaghetti (raw) sticking out of a stack of potatoes or a hunk of zucchini for a dramatic touch, and the plates are decorated at the four corners with the most finely chopped carrots and (cucumber?); P's foie gras came with a "palm tree" made of cucumber, fennel and a cherry tomato.
The coq au vin was very rich and salty - almost too much umami for my taste, but the meat was falling off the bone it was so tender, and the mushrooms, onions and carrots (!) were braised so slowly that they blended superbly into the stew. P's onglet was good, but a hair on the tough side - the best onglet we've had was in Washington D.C. at Les Halles. The cognac-peppercorn cream sauce was lovely, though.
Would I eat here again? No real need to, but if I need French food in Sausalito at some point, I think this is the only option - and they really are French, French, French. Maybe the foie gras would be worth a second visit. It really is a meal (or at least a full dose - maybe several doses - of fat) in itself.
So, from the creative to the authentic to the Michelin star. Lunch next day was at Sushi Ran, which is the only sushi restaurant recognized by Michelin. We relied on the waiter for our order and wound up with a sushi special and a bento box. The miso broth to start was divine, but the tofu rather bland - overall, I suppose I prefer the miso soup at Kirala in Berkeley. But the mains brought an item that takes the prize for best food all year. Really.
We'll work up to it: I ordered sushi (one piece each of red tuna, yellowtail tuna, albacore tuna, salmon, sea bass, prawn) and an avocado-salmon roll, all of which were very good. I admit I don't know my sashimi, but my favourite fishes were the red tuna, the sea bass and the yellowtail. I'll have to do some more tasting to get a better sense of what I like. The roll was excellent as well - really, really fresh.
P's bento box had three little compartments for: crispy squid on a vinegary salad, butterfish and sautéed peas (julienned) with pea shoots. For once, I enjoyed the squid. I even ate some tentacles! The salad underneath was very sharp in flavour - I found it a bit overwhelming, but the combination of the light greens with the crispy squid was lovely texture-wise.
The sauté was divine: the only time I've had peas this good was at Ton Kiang in San Francisco. I do think that these just may have been better, although that's hard to imagine. But the crowning glory, food-wise, of the entire trip, and indeed of the entire year, was Sushi Ran's butterfish.
Butterfish (poronotus tricanthus, I've since discovered) are found along the north-eastern coast of the U.S. and Canada and are valuable for their rich, buttery meat. I've never actually had a fish that tasted like butter before, but this one did. And I don't think there was any butter involved in its preparation. Just imagine: the meat flakes away so gently it appears to be melting, and in fact it does melt in the mouth. How was it served? On a little piece of banana leaf and in a lovely sauce whose ingredients are entirely unknown to me, but the combination of the texture of this delicious fish and the rich, lemongrassy sauce was absolutely unforgettable. I'd go back just for the butterfish any day, and that's the first time I've ever thought I might go out of my way for fish!
Here are my favourite recipes for french onion soup (adapted from the Best of Bridge) and coq au vin (from the Canadian Living cookbook).
French Onion Soup au Gratin
Cook 4 thinly sliced large onions in a soup pot in 1/2 butter until the onions are nice and tender (the lower the heat and the longer it takes, the better). Add four 10 oz. cans of good beef broth (or your own stock), 1/2 cup dry sherry, 2 tsp. worcestershire sauce and some pepper and bring the soup to boil. I eat this soup just like this, after simmering it for awhile, but of course to make it authentic you need to add a slice of toast covered in emmenthaler or some such swiss cheese (although fontina is nice too) to each bowl, and broil until the cheese bubbles. Serves 6. This is an excellent soup, and so simple!
Coq au Vin
In a large stew pot, brown two slices of bacon. Remove the bacon and add 3 1/2 lbs. of chicken pieces to the pan, browning them in the bacon fat. Remove the chicken and all but a tablespoon of fat from the pan. Add 6 cups of button mushrooms, 2 cups of pearl onions, 3 cloves of garlic, 3 carrots (sliced into rounds), 1 tsp. of thyme, 1 tsp. of salt and 1/2 tsp. of pepper. Cook until mushrooms are browned and almost no liquid remains. Stir in 1/2 cup of flour, then add 1 1/2 cups of dry red wine (you can use white too, for a lighter effect) and 1 c. chicken broth, 1 tbsp. tomato paste and a bay leaf. Bring to a boil and then add the chicken, the bacon (chopped) and any accumulated bacon or chicken juices. Cover and simmer on low for 20 minutes; uncover and simmer for 20 minutes or until chicken juices run clear. Discard the bay leaf and serve (serves 6).
The first was at Avatar's, which is a family-run Indian restaurant specializing in fusion - specifically, Mexican-influenced Indian cuisine (!!!). It's in a strip mall, which isn't an entirely auspicious location, but we received a friendly greeting at the door and then were warmly welcomed by our waiter, whom I would guess is one of the owners. When we mentioned that we'd heard the food was excellent and that we were really looking forward to the meal, he took our menus away and announced, with a flourish, that he would bring us the perfect lunch. And, in fact, he did.
The meal started with real San Francisco sourdough bread, which was interesting in view of the decidedly non-European menu, but it was good bread, so I suppose I shouldn't complain that I didn't get chapatis instead. Then our light rosewater lassi arrived, which was lovely and cold and thin - nice in contrast with the thick mango lassi we tend to get across the Bay (and which tends to fill one up rather too much in concert with, say, cream-based chicken tikka masala).
Then the real food arrived: first, enchiladas, complete with a lovely, thick brown savoury "salsa" and melted cheese, served with homemade chutneys: mango, mint, pineapple and pear (the pear was particularly good), a bit of tasty rice and homemade carrot pickle, cold. The enchilada was divine. It was so hearty we thought it must have been made with beef or lamb, but it was so mild in flavour, so finely ground and so luxuriously spiced that we couldn't be sure. We found out later that we were eating ground turkey and pumpkin. Unbelievable!
On the right: a lovely bed of rice topped with grilled veggies - broccoli, cauliflower, carrots, zucchini - and two long rectangular pieces of. . . fish? Chicken? So beautifully browned we couldn't tell just by looking, but after cutting a piece we knew it certainly wasn't fish. The first bite was divine, but again, we were fooled by texture. It was like chicken, but too firm. Pork, it turns out, cooked slowly so that it became so tender it was almost like chicken. I don't know how they managed it, but the veggies and meat were grilled (or braised?) so carefully and slowly that parts of them turned to sugary goodness. What a wonderful meal! We are usually wary of fusion, but this place is GOOD!
Our second meal, that same night, was at Christophe's. We'd heard mixed reviews, but decided to try it anyway, and we were only disappointed by dessert, which was truly sub-par: the profiteroles were old and tough; the sugar on the crème brulée was burned. But our appys and mains were quite good, so I'll stick with those.
We ordered one three-course and one four-course prix fixe. P started with seared foie gras, which was really excellent. Served in a dark and rich gravy on a tiny piece of toast, it melted on the tongue. Course number two, the soupe à l'ognion, was good too - lots of tasty cheese, a good broth, but sour bread rather than sweet, which I found a bit odd. To be truthful, my own French onion soup is better, I think. (See the recipe below.) I started with a mushroom vol au vent, which consisted of a triangular "sandwich" of puff pastry dripping with a pale gravy and filled with mushrooms and thyme chopped nice and small. P enjoyed it a great deal, but I fear the pastry may have been straight out of the freezer. (I really think these people could use a pastry chef).
Then, the mains: coq au vin for me; onglet for P. Yes, we chose "traditional" French all the way. We were warned that these folks were French through and through, and indeed they were: the chef was joking with customers in French, our waitress took our orders in French, and many of the diners were French-speaking as well. I would say that the varying quality of our food was representative of middle- and lower-end dining in Paris as well. We learned there that if you want everything to be superb, you really have to pay (maybe this is why I prefer Italy, where all price-ranges contain top-notch food), but if you're willing to eat a few less-tasty options in favour of one really great entrée, go for the mid-range.
In any case, the chicken and steak were quite good. Christophe's has interesting ideas about presentation: every dish has a spray of (grilled? fried?) spaghetti (raw) sticking out of a stack of potatoes or a hunk of zucchini for a dramatic touch, and the plates are decorated at the four corners with the most finely chopped carrots and (cucumber?); P's foie gras came with a "palm tree" made of cucumber, fennel and a cherry tomato.
The coq au vin was very rich and salty - almost too much umami for my taste, but the meat was falling off the bone it was so tender, and the mushrooms, onions and carrots (!) were braised so slowly that they blended superbly into the stew. P's onglet was good, but a hair on the tough side - the best onglet we've had was in Washington D.C. at Les Halles. The cognac-peppercorn cream sauce was lovely, though.
Would I eat here again? No real need to, but if I need French food in Sausalito at some point, I think this is the only option - and they really are French, French, French. Maybe the foie gras would be worth a second visit. It really is a meal (or at least a full dose - maybe several doses - of fat) in itself.
So, from the creative to the authentic to the Michelin star. Lunch next day was at Sushi Ran, which is the only sushi restaurant recognized by Michelin. We relied on the waiter for our order and wound up with a sushi special and a bento box. The miso broth to start was divine, but the tofu rather bland - overall, I suppose I prefer the miso soup at Kirala in Berkeley. But the mains brought an item that takes the prize for best food all year. Really.
We'll work up to it: I ordered sushi (one piece each of red tuna, yellowtail tuna, albacore tuna, salmon, sea bass, prawn) and an avocado-salmon roll, all of which were very good. I admit I don't know my sashimi, but my favourite fishes were the red tuna, the sea bass and the yellowtail. I'll have to do some more tasting to get a better sense of what I like. The roll was excellent as well - really, really fresh.
P's bento box had three little compartments for: crispy squid on a vinegary salad, butterfish and sautéed peas (julienned) with pea shoots. For once, I enjoyed the squid. I even ate some tentacles! The salad underneath was very sharp in flavour - I found it a bit overwhelming, but the combination of the light greens with the crispy squid was lovely texture-wise.
The sauté was divine: the only time I've had peas this good was at Ton Kiang in San Francisco. I do think that these just may have been better, although that's hard to imagine. But the crowning glory, food-wise, of the entire trip, and indeed of the entire year, was Sushi Ran's butterfish.
Butterfish (poronotus tricanthus, I've since discovered) are found along the north-eastern coast of the U.S. and Canada and are valuable for their rich, buttery meat. I've never actually had a fish that tasted like butter before, but this one did. And I don't think there was any butter involved in its preparation. Just imagine: the meat flakes away so gently it appears to be melting, and in fact it does melt in the mouth. How was it served? On a little piece of banana leaf and in a lovely sauce whose ingredients are entirely unknown to me, but the combination of the texture of this delicious fish and the rich, lemongrassy sauce was absolutely unforgettable. I'd go back just for the butterfish any day, and that's the first time I've ever thought I might go out of my way for fish!
Here are my favourite recipes for french onion soup (adapted from the Best of Bridge) and coq au vin (from the Canadian Living cookbook).
French Onion Soup au Gratin
Cook 4 thinly sliced large onions in a soup pot in 1/2 butter until the onions are nice and tender (the lower the heat and the longer it takes, the better). Add four 10 oz. cans of good beef broth (or your own stock), 1/2 cup dry sherry, 2 tsp. worcestershire sauce and some pepper and bring the soup to boil. I eat this soup just like this, after simmering it for awhile, but of course to make it authentic you need to add a slice of toast covered in emmenthaler or some such swiss cheese (although fontina is nice too) to each bowl, and broil until the cheese bubbles. Serves 6. This is an excellent soup, and so simple!
Coq au Vin
In a large stew pot, brown two slices of bacon. Remove the bacon and add 3 1/2 lbs. of chicken pieces to the pan, browning them in the bacon fat. Remove the chicken and all but a tablespoon of fat from the pan. Add 6 cups of button mushrooms, 2 cups of pearl onions, 3 cloves of garlic, 3 carrots (sliced into rounds), 1 tsp. of thyme, 1 tsp. of salt and 1/2 tsp. of pepper. Cook until mushrooms are browned and almost no liquid remains. Stir in 1/2 cup of flour, then add 1 1/2 cups of dry red wine (you can use white too, for a lighter effect) and 1 c. chicken broth, 1 tbsp. tomato paste and a bay leaf. Bring to a boil and then add the chicken, the bacon (chopped) and any accumulated bacon or chicken juices. Cover and simmer on low for 20 minutes; uncover and simmer for 20 minutes or until chicken juices run clear. Discard the bay leaf and serve (serves 6).
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Chocolate Tasting #3
Well, we are apparently not doing all that much cooking lately. Why? Because we're eating chocolate instead. We walked over to Bittersweet today and picked up two new bars: Michel Cluizel's Plantation "Mangaro" (65%) and Divine's mint dark chocolate (70%).
Bittersweet is pricey - they sell almost all the Vosges bars (at least we now have a source) at $8 a piece (unfortunately an over-priced source), and these two were $6 and $4 for 3.5 oz. respectively. Let's see how they taste.
The Cluziel is supposed to be citrusy. It looks fairly pale, not surprising for 65%, and frankly I don't detect a heck of a lot of citrus. It does have a fruity je ne sais quoi, though - the package explains that this Madagascar chocolate plantation was planted on former mango tree land. I wonder if M. Cluziel thinks the earth has imbued his chocolate with the scent of mango. If so, it is decidedly green mango. This chocolate is tart! I like it alright, but I won't go out of my way to get it again. It is a very hard bar, and the texture is almost waxy at the outset. Towards the end the tartness really comes out, which I rather like, but the path to the final experience is a bit too involved in my opinion, even though the chocolate is undeniably good. I really wish M. Cluziel wouldn't write his name on every tiny piece (Vosges does this too, but somehow it doesn't bother me as much). I prefer the plainer-looking bites of . . .
. . . Divine chocolate, which is organic and free-trade. The chocolate from this bar comes from a co-owned plantation in Ghana. I can smell the mint from here! (An aside: two minutes later (before tasting the Divine) I can still taste the Cluziel - it has a very long and oddly fiery finish.) There is a surprise in this bar: crystals of minty sugar (I'm glad they didn't use salt for once). A lot of minty sugar, in fact. I'm wondering if the sweetness doesn't overwhelm the chocolate in this case, although I like the crunchy texture and the overall experience. I'm not entirely convinced of the quality of this chocolate, but it is so infused with mint and sweetness that it is a bit hard to tell. This is a decent bar, if you like sweet, at this price, I'd say.
Bittersweet is pricey - they sell almost all the Vosges bars (at least we now have a source) at $8 a piece (unfortunately an over-priced source), and these two were $6 and $4 for 3.5 oz. respectively. Let's see how they taste.
The Cluziel is supposed to be citrusy. It looks fairly pale, not surprising for 65%, and frankly I don't detect a heck of a lot of citrus. It does have a fruity je ne sais quoi, though - the package explains that this Madagascar chocolate plantation was planted on former mango tree land. I wonder if M. Cluziel thinks the earth has imbued his chocolate with the scent of mango. If so, it is decidedly green mango. This chocolate is tart! I like it alright, but I won't go out of my way to get it again. It is a very hard bar, and the texture is almost waxy at the outset. Towards the end the tartness really comes out, which I rather like, but the path to the final experience is a bit too involved in my opinion, even though the chocolate is undeniably good. I really wish M. Cluziel wouldn't write his name on every tiny piece (Vosges does this too, but somehow it doesn't bother me as much). I prefer the plainer-looking bites of . . .
. . . Divine chocolate, which is organic and free-trade. The chocolate from this bar comes from a co-owned plantation in Ghana. I can smell the mint from here! (An aside: two minutes later (before tasting the Divine) I can still taste the Cluziel - it has a very long and oddly fiery finish.) There is a surprise in this bar: crystals of minty sugar (I'm glad they didn't use salt for once). A lot of minty sugar, in fact. I'm wondering if the sweetness doesn't overwhelm the chocolate in this case, although I like the crunchy texture and the overall experience. I'm not entirely convinced of the quality of this chocolate, but it is so infused with mint and sweetness that it is a bit hard to tell. This is a decent bar, if you like sweet, at this price, I'd say.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Chocolate Tasting #2
Back at the same little grocery where we found such surprisingly divine chocolate a few weeks ago, we picked up two new bars today: New Tree's "Sexy" and a new type of Vosges, the Creole Bar. Here are the results of our mid-afternoon sampling.
I admit that we bought another bar of the Vosges Barcelona bar that took the prize last time, so we started with that, although it cost us $5.79 this week! That bar just gets better and better: I recommended it to a friend and she ate the entire 3 oz. bar in a single sitting.
Next we tried New Tree's "Sexy" bar ($4.09 for 2.82 oz.), which they advertise as "energizing" - what with the caffeine from the chocolate and guarana extract, which is a Brazilian high-caffeine berry, the whole bar has 3 cups of coffee worth of kick. Not so interested in its energizing qualities, I bought the bar because it is Belgian, 73% cocoa and ginger-infused. This is not a shy treat: the ginger actually stings the tongue and the cacao has a bitter bite, but it is, surprisingly, simultaneously sweet - a compelling, if complex combination. I have one complaint: the graininess (and chewiness) of the ginger is a bit displeasing if you let this chocolate melt. Nibbled bit by bit, it does much better. And thank you, New Tree, for not being skimpy with the real chunks of ginger.
Finally, our new Vosges adventure. The Creole bar ($5.79 for 3 oz.) is 70% cacao and contains espresso, cocoa nibs, chicory and bittersweet chocolate from São Tomé, Portugal. Creamy and gritty (from the nibs, of course), it is a lot less aggressive, surprisingly, than the New Tree bar. I think the espresso is lost a bit in the overwhelming chocolate flavour delivered by Vosges. On the other hand, who can complain about tasting too much chocolate? The espresso seems to come out a bit in the final few grains left on the tongue after the rest of the chocolate is gone, but other than that it is a decidedly mild coffee experience. The nibs remind me: I need to taste some on their own - I've missed out completely on the current rage, to my shame. Perhaps the next time we head east on our bikes I'll buy some Scharffen Berger nibs. Or perhaps a visit to the factory is in order...
I admit that we bought another bar of the Vosges Barcelona bar that took the prize last time, so we started with that, although it cost us $5.79 this week! That bar just gets better and better: I recommended it to a friend and she ate the entire 3 oz. bar in a single sitting.
Next we tried New Tree's "Sexy" bar ($4.09 for 2.82 oz.), which they advertise as "energizing" - what with the caffeine from the chocolate and guarana extract, which is a Brazilian high-caffeine berry, the whole bar has 3 cups of coffee worth of kick. Not so interested in its energizing qualities, I bought the bar because it is Belgian, 73% cocoa and ginger-infused. This is not a shy treat: the ginger actually stings the tongue and the cacao has a bitter bite, but it is, surprisingly, simultaneously sweet - a compelling, if complex combination. I have one complaint: the graininess (and chewiness) of the ginger is a bit displeasing if you let this chocolate melt. Nibbled bit by bit, it does much better. And thank you, New Tree, for not being skimpy with the real chunks of ginger.
Finally, our new Vosges adventure. The Creole bar ($5.79 for 3 oz.) is 70% cacao and contains espresso, cocoa nibs, chicory and bittersweet chocolate from São Tomé, Portugal. Creamy and gritty (from the nibs, of course), it is a lot less aggressive, surprisingly, than the New Tree bar. I think the espresso is lost a bit in the overwhelming chocolate flavour delivered by Vosges. On the other hand, who can complain about tasting too much chocolate? The espresso seems to come out a bit in the final few grains left on the tongue after the rest of the chocolate is gone, but other than that it is a decidedly mild coffee experience. The nibs remind me: I need to taste some on their own - I've missed out completely on the current rage, to my shame. Perhaps the next time we head east on our bikes I'll buy some Scharffen Berger nibs. Or perhaps a visit to the factory is in order...
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Italian Supper (Wednesday)
Some friends came over for dinner Wednesday night and we served them Italian. In the interests of making note of simple foods that only take a few minutes to make, here is the menu and a few recipes.
To start, tuna crostini (oh, and a little glass of framboise before the food arrived).
Every time we arrive at our favourite Tuscan farmhouse for a holiday, Rina makes a plate of these crostini so that we don't starve on our first night in the tiny town. The key to good canned tuna (either in a green salad - in fact, greens and maybe a tomato mixed with tuna and lots of salt and pepper makes an AMAZING lunch - or for these crostini) is that the tuna be in olive oil (not soybean or canola or "vegetable" oil), not in water. Two cans, oil included, mixed with Italian mayo (nice and eggy-yellow), salt and pepper, makes the topping. Keep tasting - adding mayo until you like the texture and taste is the only way to do it. You can use day-old bread (a small loaf), or toast slices of new, dense bread (it has to be firm or it will just fall apart; white is best). On each slice, spread a spoonful of tuna mixture and top with a green pimiento-ed olive sliced in half. Think tiny open-faced sandwiches adorned with meaty tuna and accented with the brininess of the olive. Yum!
When I make these with Rina's guidance, I invariably do something "wrong" which "ruins" the crostini. Welcome to Italy and to working with Italian cooks. There is no experimenting. There is only tradition (and why should I complain? What a tradition it is!!). So I try to be as faithful as possible to her recipe, and you should too. The crostini never turn out quite as well as they do when she makes them, but I think that may have something to do with summer heat, the smell of dry grass, the sound of the tractors in the vineyard and the view of shaded castles and mountains in the hills towards Siena.
After the crostini, we served two pastas. The first I like to call "bruschetta" pasta, which is a blasphemous name (from the perspective of an Italian), but nevertheless... The second was P's idea: a simple, buttery mushroom pasta.
We love to make bruschetta pasta in the summer when the tomatoes are good, because it takes about 10 minutes and is incredibly fresh and easy. We usually make it with penne or spaghetti, but this time we had some excellent Barilla tortelloni on hand. I'll never make it with plain pasta again!
The trick to this recipe is using the best, ripest, freshest tomatoes you can find. Don't bother trying if you can't get good tomatoes. We bought our heirlooms (four big ones) at the Felton farmer's market which was, from the tamale sellers to the fruit vendors and the Beatles-playing guitarists, absolutely wonderful! I chopped the heirlooms into smallish (1-2cm square) pieces and tossed them with lots of fresh basil, good olive oil, a bit of balsamic vinegar, salt and pepper. If you're ambitious, add some raw garlic or sweet/red onions, finely chopped).
The tomatoey mixture becomes a cold "sauce" which, when tossed with the hot pasta, makes a warm dish perfect for a hot day. It makes a decent salad the day after, too! (I'd add some feta, perhaps, and serve it room temperature for lunch). If you'd rather have bruschetta with your tuna crostini, toast some slices of bread, rub a halved clove of garlic over each slice, and then paint each slice with olive oil (this last bit is VITAL! Otherwise you'll have - horrors! - soggy bread.). Put spoonful or two of tomato mixture on each slice of bread, and serve with lots of napkins! But for our pasta, just toss the tomatoes with the hot tortelloni and serve. So, so good.
Next: P's mushroom pasta. We used brown, white and oyster mushrooms (3 cups sliced, perhaps?), since that was what was in season at Felton. The trick? Frying them on low for a long time in a stick (yes, a full half cup) of butter. We often add garlic to our buttered mushrooms and eat them with fresh white bread for dinner, but this time P did it plain, adding only some salt and pepper and then, just before serving, some flat-leaf parsley. Tossed with pasta, this made for a lovely, rich spaghetti ai funghi. (Again, if you want to complicate matters, add a little cream or white wine.)
We served the pastas with freshly grated parmigiano (of course), locally-made baked sausages (sweet chicken-apple and hot Italian), good mustard for the meat and a lovely bottle of Chateau St. Jean's excellent cab (brought by the guests).
To finish things off: we had considered cheese as dessert, but I wanted to try the recent Gourmet recipe for flourless chocolate almond cakes. We served these exceedingly rich, pudding-like delights with fresh strawberries and cream.
It was a lovely meal!
To start, tuna crostini (oh, and a little glass of framboise before the food arrived).
Every time we arrive at our favourite Tuscan farmhouse for a holiday, Rina makes a plate of these crostini so that we don't starve on our first night in the tiny town. The key to good canned tuna (either in a green salad - in fact, greens and maybe a tomato mixed with tuna and lots of salt and pepper makes an AMAZING lunch - or for these crostini) is that the tuna be in olive oil (not soybean or canola or "vegetable" oil), not in water. Two cans, oil included, mixed with Italian mayo (nice and eggy-yellow), salt and pepper, makes the topping. Keep tasting - adding mayo until you like the texture and taste is the only way to do it. You can use day-old bread (a small loaf), or toast slices of new, dense bread (it has to be firm or it will just fall apart; white is best). On each slice, spread a spoonful of tuna mixture and top with a green pimiento-ed olive sliced in half. Think tiny open-faced sandwiches adorned with meaty tuna and accented with the brininess of the olive. Yum!
When I make these with Rina's guidance, I invariably do something "wrong" which "ruins" the crostini. Welcome to Italy and to working with Italian cooks. There is no experimenting. There is only tradition (and why should I complain? What a tradition it is!!). So I try to be as faithful as possible to her recipe, and you should too. The crostini never turn out quite as well as they do when she makes them, but I think that may have something to do with summer heat, the smell of dry grass, the sound of the tractors in the vineyard and the view of shaded castles and mountains in the hills towards Siena.
After the crostini, we served two pastas. The first I like to call "bruschetta" pasta, which is a blasphemous name (from the perspective of an Italian), but nevertheless... The second was P's idea: a simple, buttery mushroom pasta.
We love to make bruschetta pasta in the summer when the tomatoes are good, because it takes about 10 minutes and is incredibly fresh and easy. We usually make it with penne or spaghetti, but this time we had some excellent Barilla tortelloni on hand. I'll never make it with plain pasta again!
The trick to this recipe is using the best, ripest, freshest tomatoes you can find. Don't bother trying if you can't get good tomatoes. We bought our heirlooms (four big ones) at the Felton farmer's market which was, from the tamale sellers to the fruit vendors and the Beatles-playing guitarists, absolutely wonderful! I chopped the heirlooms into smallish (1-2cm square) pieces and tossed them with lots of fresh basil, good olive oil, a bit of balsamic vinegar, salt and pepper. If you're ambitious, add some raw garlic or sweet/red onions, finely chopped).
The tomatoey mixture becomes a cold "sauce" which, when tossed with the hot pasta, makes a warm dish perfect for a hot day. It makes a decent salad the day after, too! (I'd add some feta, perhaps, and serve it room temperature for lunch). If you'd rather have bruschetta with your tuna crostini, toast some slices of bread, rub a halved clove of garlic over each slice, and then paint each slice with olive oil (this last bit is VITAL! Otherwise you'll have - horrors! - soggy bread.). Put spoonful or two of tomato mixture on each slice of bread, and serve with lots of napkins! But for our pasta, just toss the tomatoes with the hot tortelloni and serve. So, so good.
Next: P's mushroom pasta. We used brown, white and oyster mushrooms (3 cups sliced, perhaps?), since that was what was in season at Felton. The trick? Frying them on low for a long time in a stick (yes, a full half cup) of butter. We often add garlic to our buttered mushrooms and eat them with fresh white bread for dinner, but this time P did it plain, adding only some salt and pepper and then, just before serving, some flat-leaf parsley. Tossed with pasta, this made for a lovely, rich spaghetti ai funghi. (Again, if you want to complicate matters, add a little cream or white wine.)
We served the pastas with freshly grated parmigiano (of course), locally-made baked sausages (sweet chicken-apple and hot Italian), good mustard for the meat and a lovely bottle of Chateau St. Jean's excellent cab (brought by the guests).
To finish things off: we had considered cheese as dessert, but I wanted to try the recent Gourmet recipe for flourless chocolate almond cakes. We served these exceedingly rich, pudding-like delights with fresh strawberries and cream.
It was a lovely meal!
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