Word To Your Mother

It's Mother's Day...and I can't give mah mahms a hug...because I can't really move.

I have the flu, which is to say that my body paralyzed by some serious mega muscle pain (especially in my back), nausea, chills, and a crazy pounding headache.

I never get headaches. So when one comes along...it's clear that something is major types of wrong, and that's how this all started to trickle in. A red flag goes up, and I wait for something to happen. Symptom by symptom, slowly the puzzle fits together until I freak out and start eating raw honey and drinking spicy ginger tea. That last sentence needs to be narrated slowly by an older, creepy, British man.

Moms already have to deal with so much craziness from their kids. I thought it would be a nice gift to avoid her today.

Viruses are not an appropriate Mother's Day gift.

You can't tie a bow on them!

And moms don't need any more headaches than life, children, and motherhood bring already.

Isn't it supposed to be like getting a Get Out of Jail Free card when the kids move out?

So anyway, today's post is about how swell my mom is. I entered a story about her in a Brag About Your Mom contest from Yew restaurant + bar and The Four Seasons Hotel, and hooray, it won!

She and I get treated to dinner and a swanky hotel stay next week, when I'm feeling better and am non-contagious. Excitement! I have heard nothing but wonderfulness about the food and service at Yew, and The Four Seasons, is, well, The Bloody Amazing Four Seasons. Mom totally deserves a night of food and fun, and I was hoping so badly that she would win. I can't wait to give her hugs, kisses, chocolates, flowers, home-made cookies, a card, and a big surprise. No, I'm not pregnant! Keep wishing, Mom. Har har...

Here is the entry that was sent, with the picture of us that was included.



I know most people are super lucky in The Mom Department. Especially the ones who are excited to brag about them here. After all, moms gave us life! My mom is all kinds of incredible because she not only gave me a life, but saved it, too, and gave me a real sense of purpose.

My mom grew up with a single mom, which was taboo in their culture. Grandma fled from China before mom was born, and never completed her education, so even though she worked really hard, it was a struggle to put food on the table. My mom smelled bread baking one day at a friend's house, and it was the most amazing thing to her, because they never did that type of stuff in her home.

She couldn't shake the idea and resolved to one day figure out how to make this happen, so that in the future, when she had kids, she would bake bread for us all the time, and fill the house with goodness. To this day, freshly baked bread with butter and a little salt make me feel like a kid.

So along I came, child #2. Dad didn't want more than one, but Mom knew in her heart she wanted a big family with kids playing and running all over the place, and convinced him of it, too. Unfortunately she also knew during the pregnancy that something felt wrong. On delivery day she decided at the last minute to demand an emergency cesarean, and even argued for it.

It's a good thing that she did, because apparently I was upside down and the umbilical cord was wrapped around my neck 6 times. The doctors said that I for sure would have been strangled during a regular delivery. It's pretty funny to me that such a mild-mannered, nice lady would decide for the first time to be so bold and stubborn, and immediately give birth to a baby who grew up into a strong, spitfire type of person. I am so glad that she trusted her gut.

It's what I do for a living, now: Trusting my gut. I make food for others, like Mom does. I'm a line cook/baker; she has worked a lot of jobs in food, and currently feeds and entertains the patients at St. Paul's Hospital. If there is an elderly person who knows Cantonese but not English, she will spend her break helping to translate for them. On Christmas day, she wears this ridiculous antler headband with jingle bells and they love it. Hospitals are so scary and depressing, very few people can make patients there laugh and feel comfortable the way she does. She has spirit, big-time.

She put it upon herself to master cooking as an art in her earlier mom days, and I watched her constantly as she practiced her craft. I would be hypnotized as she kneaded bread dough, and we would sit on little chairs and stare into the oven as magic unfolded. As I grew older, she let me help, and would get me to deliver food to old ladies who lived across the street and needed a visit.

My parents split up later on, and Mom worked multiple jobs to be able to feed us 4 ravenous teenagers. No matter what happened, as long as she had us, food, a roof, and Oprah, everything was all right. I try to cook nice food for her, and make her proud. In addition to all the rad Mom Stuff like supporting everything we do (soccer games, culinary school graduations, drag shows) and listening to our problems, she has taught me to always go the extra mile and help people, and to find a way to love everyone around me, and share good things with them. Especially if that good thing is edible.

Mom always makes sure that we feel loved, and never asks for anything. The woman is a relentless giving machine, and I hope that she wins this contest, because she works so hard for everyone and deserves to put her feet up. She endured surgery so I could come out of her tummy alive...this contest is a chance for her to fill it back up with some goodness. Whether or not this entry wins, thank you for reading! :D



FYI, I know babies don't come out of tummies, and are supposed to be upside down, but I was the opposite, right-side up, which I consider to be upside-down from the norm. I totally took advanced biology in school and joined the science club, and laugh at all the jokes in the Big Bang Theory.

I'm super lucky to have this life because of a choice she made...and even though I never thought I would become a cook, she paved the foundation for me. Showing me the happiness and goodness that could come from making food from scratch, with love, and sharing that with people, whether it was family and friends, or sad people, or patients in a rest home that she worked in.

With how broken the food system is, and how sick people are because of what they eat, today it's more important than ever to know what's in our food, and the memory of us watching bread bake is what keeps me in this line of work. I want other people to want to make food, and feel proud and capable and smart and brave because it came from the work of their own hands. I do this for love, not for money, and if more things in the world worked that way, everything might not be such a mess.

If you can today, give your mom a hug.

Because I can't, and it's bothering the crepinette out of me!

Kari

Famiglia Creanza Olive Oil Tasting & Puglian Supper at Le Marché St. George, with Scout Magazine

Luis Valdizon photo credit.

I have this really bad habit of buying canvases and sketchbooks and doing nothing with them.

The infinite possibilities that could decorate them unfurl a process that is sometimes too intimidating to begin.

The chance that I might end up working so hard and end up with something that I can't stand, bothers me immensely.

Sometimes I feel that way about beginning a piece of writing for this blog, or for a new dish that I want to experiment with.

With food, it's usually easier to get the inspiration ball rolling.

I think of one ingredient, component, or cooking method that I really like, then shut everything else out, and the ideas come pouring in.

When that fails, I throw garlic and onions in a pan, because that's how 90,000 of the most wonderful foods begin, and then I let my hands figure out the rest.

But now and then, something special happens, and for as many endless words there are waiting to burst out of my head, I am speechless.

Luis Valdizon photo credit.

I don't want to think that I won't do justice of something very deserving.

I don't want to think that one day I will run out of thoughts and ideas that are worth carrying out.

The flow gets interrupted, or I don't know where to begin, and that's what I'm dealing with right now.

This has been a very hectic week. The only goal that I set was to take a bath.

Soak in a tub and think of nothing, until my feet feel more like feet, and less like dinosaur skin.

It totally didn't happen, and I'm endlessly grateful.

Over the years I have become better at The Art of Saying No To People, but once in a blue moon, life drops an unbelievable opportunity into your hands, and it's up to you to say no and wonder what if, or say yes and then find a way to make everything happen. Resistance...is futile.

Scout Magazine photo credit.Luis and I recently bought a huge canister of the most beautiful olive oil we have ever tasted. It is bright green, lush, a bit peppery, and came from the Famiglia Creanza orchard in Puglia, Italy. Tonio Creanza, one of Luis' clients, hosts workshops there, ranging from shepherding and cheesemaking, to art restoration, olive harvesting, and learning about cooking seasonal Puglian food. People who attend the workshops get to slow down and enjoy life, reconnect with the seasons and nature, and become the subject of my envy.

The Larsen family, who runs Le Marché St. George, another client of Luis', is irresistibly magical and comforting. Their rustic European-style coffee shop and general store is nestled in a residential neighborhood. In fact, it's the neighborhood where I spent more than half of my life. Just a few blocks from the house I grew up in, and a stone's throw from my elementary and high school, as well as the house of The Wife, my friend of 21 years, Le Marché is a sanctuary where you may find some calm away from the noise of the city, and lose yourself in its serene atmosphere, artful composition, and inherent natural-ness. Walking in there is like being instantaneously wrapped in a favourite, old, wooly blanket.

Scout Magazine photo credit.Somehow, Marché looks and feels like a dream, but there is nothing fake about it. All is real and tactile. Many of the items on their shelves came from somebody's hands. Produce, straight from the farmers. Cultured butter and artisanal cheeses from a local dairy. Chorizo from a fifth-generation sausage maker whose workspace is a mile down the road. Ceramics, crafted by one of Marché's owners, and olive oil, too, from a family in Puglia.

The very best that you can find, all harboured under one roof. Marché isn't as much a shop, as it is a community and family that fills a gaping niche in our lives. The need for being able to trust a product, a shop, a real, accountable group of people, and to be a part of something honest and meaningful has grown to the point where specialized businesses and craftspeople may flourish, even in today's economy. Anybody who truly cares about the products that fill their kitchen or their home adores Marché and what they stand for.

This is where I came in.

Luis Valdizon photo credit.

Marché, in its incredible space, hosted a special event with Messors, Tonio's company, to promote the upcoming season of workshops with an olive oil tasting and Puglian supper, and were looking to do so again on Sunday the 29th. Luis noted that there weren't any desserts to finish off the beautiful meal that the guests enjoyed, and knowing how much I love to bake for people, hinted that I might like to take on the job.

On Friday night, they said yes! And dessert for 30 it was to be, after I threw some ideas out there and asked about themes and ingredients. At this point I ought to mention how incredibly lucky I am to have a considerate man.

This is also the point where I will warn you, that if you didn't know already, cooks and bakers who adore their craft get super intense and obsessive about every stage and alternate plan of menu composition and execution.

It can be a deeply personal, absolutely maddening, and sometimes, if the cook is lucky, also wonderfully fulfilling process. Every component, ingredient, and technique has to coexist for a reason, be balanced, be well executed, and be as immune to reasonable criticism as possible, or else you just have a plate or bowl of food that doesn't make sense and might taste bad or be ill-prepared. There is a lot of that out in the world. I am terrified of creating it.

As an apron-wearer, I count on a small amount of paranoia from myself, and endless amounts of patience, kindness, forgiveness, and love from those around me to keep me focused, steady, humble, and honest, away from delusions of grandeur. Insecurity is a double-edged Japanese knife. Everyone experiences it, and I am trying to let it push me to grow and produce good work.

Now about the dessert, already: I wanted to make something that wasn't too sweet, and was rustic and inspired by Italian ingredients (and looked handmade), but had a little something extra: Crostata pies, filled with sliced apples tossed in a light coating of fig purée, topped with more fig purée, and finished with toasted sliced almonds, and a scoop of basil-vanilla bean ice cream that was drizzled with Famiglia Creanza's olive oil, then sprinkled with sea salt.

It sounds complicated, but the portions were to be beautifully simple, albeit labour-intensive in production, because our oven is small, batshit crazy, and deserves to be taken apart with a chainsaw. Industrial-sized convection ovens have spoiled me for domestic life.

Luis Valdizon photo credit.

I didn't care about the workload, so long as it could be done properly and leave the guests with sparkling, happy memories.

I was equally excited and panicked, not wanting to disappoint anybody and humiliate myself (or Luis, the people he works for, or the people I work for) in the process. They're Luis' clients, but they welcome us like family, Italians typically love their food to be represented authentically, and also, dear lord, because Marché teamed up with Andrew Morrison and Michelle Sproule, the editor and event coordinator, respectfully, of Scout Magazine, a popular online magazine in Vancouver, to promote the event.

Mr. Morrison is a prominent figure and writer in Vancouver's food scene and I have been reading his work faithfully for years, even before deciding to become a cooker-baker-doer of everything. His writing feels more honest than most because he dares to tell about real opportunities for improvement, especially regarding service, not only singing praises of people who might kiss his ass as most "food critics" do, and he not only knows food, but has also worked in restaurants as well, which I think gives his judgement extra points.

His articles not only influence where people here want to eat, but have also helped me make decisions about where I want to work. I have cooked for him before at two restaurants (without his knowledge), and from the vision and plan of other chefs, so while the concept of sharing my own food with him and his wife would be a great honour, I was scared out of my freakin' mind.

In case you are curious for a few bites of what the rest of that weekend turned into, I broke my No Coffee rule, nipped off a chunk of my thumbnail from working too fast, created a new burn on my arm from working too sleepily, listened to a lot of The Village People on repeat to keep awake, and drove myself ill with worries about the possibility of soggy pastry crust, gritty ice cream, and people laughing and thinking I was stupid for daring to innovate with a cuisine that is so rigid about authenticity and purity. I wondered with some amount of delusion about whether I am actually a good cook, or if I just think my food tastes nice but it is awful in reality.

"Am I a horrible cook? Is this going to end up in the (Not So) Awesome Thing We Ate This Week column? I might seppuku myself with a Wusthof if that happens."

That is why people should not be making food at 4 AM.

If you go to Denny's at 4 AM, you can expect the food will be made by somebody who is probably not having a good time, but in my history of eating there, it also seems to apply for the other 23 hours of the day.

Scout Magazine photo credit.Finally, on Sunday, I rushed home from work, to be carted off to Marché, wine and ice cream in tow.

No matter how tired I am, it makes me anxious to be still when people are busy, and to see so much going on, with opportunities for me to mingle and have fun, but also jump in and help, was a Godsend. I can sleep for 12 hours, but can't sit still.

The night was something that I struggle to describe. Luscious. Full of splendor. Graceful and elegant. Relaxed. The long, communal tables, the secret garden, the lights, the burrata, people making new friends, guests being serenaded with a guitar...it was like everything came out of a story book or off a movie set. It was as if Alice in Wonderland's tea party was happening, but with Italian food, rustic French decorating, Kinfolk magazine's colour palette, and no eccentric animals or hat-wearing people crashing about with whistling teapots. The infrequency of such a welcoming and beautiful event makes it even more noticeably heartwarming than it already was, but some piece of me wishes that life could be like this every day. Just make a big feast, and enjoy sharing it with others.

Luis Valdizon photo credit.

We were lucky and able to serve dinner outside, in the fading sunshine, but when rain began to sprinkle, everyone moved inside the storefront to enjoy dessert, where I had been nervously readying the pies, and hoping that people wouldn't ask for their money back after tasting them.

 I prepare food decisively and confidently after receiving direction, so it's quite absurd to have felt like such a wreck while sailing off in a little boat for my own voyage, but that is what it comes down to. The chef's idea and execution are what the guests are brought, and if they don't like it, the chef is holding the bag. Yikes.

After bringing everyone plates, we were standing in a room full of people who were eating delightedly, and I thought about how this was pretty much all I wanted from life.

Scout Magazine photo credit.Good food and people full of cheer.

What relief.

Everyone sang Happy Birthday to me (oh yeah, it was that time of year...), in a rosy, familiar place, that was lit with smiles, candles and string lights.

It was beautiful and unforgettable. I teared up. A guest even gave me a hug.

I was gleeful and could have died right then and there; the only awful things about it would have been not getting to say goodbye to people, or open a little restaurant one day and continue spreading this joy. That and maybe traumatizing a bunch of people at a party.

I wanted to impress everyone, and thank them, and leave them happy, hoping that pulling it off would prove to myself that I was capable of doing this right.

A coworker asked me earlier, "Wait, you're working on your birthday? At two places?"

Absolutely. It's a great gift to be given the opportunity to do what I love, for people that I care about.

Between my job, making desserts, and the party, I had been on my feet, working, for 40 hours, and it didn't matter.

The mission was completed honorably.

I collapsed once at home, and slept like a rock.

That is what it means to be a cook.

My chefs in school said that cooking is like a dance, and you become better with moves as you rehearse.

I believe that cooking is like a dance because like ballet, if you take it too seriously, your art will eventually destroy you. If you let it.

Screengrab from Scout Magazine.It could be a beautiful death, yet I strive for balance, because maybe I have less to be scared of, to do with execution, or reception.

The Little Slice Of Pie That Could ended up on Scout Magazine, featured in its The Daily Dope and Awesome Thing We Ate This Week columns.

Luis texted me about it during a busy lunch service, and I almost dropped everything and started jumping on the counters to do one of those victory dances you can expect after a football player scores a touchdown.

Sometimes this line of work is similar to being an artist. I constantly wonder if anything that I do with food will have some type of permanence, and give somebody an amazing feeling that they might remember in the future. Seeing that I was headed in the right direction filled me with such gratitude. A lot of cooks act like they're so badass and don't need anybody's approval, but giving people an experience is what the foundation of our business is built upon, and it's crucial to never lose sight of this.

Andrew and Michelle are staggeringly nice and encouraging, to boot. They are a total star team to work with, and we all were so incredibly blessed to have them take part in this event, and break bread with us.

I hope to cook for them again soon.

It's truly a privilege to be in the company of such amazingly talented and kind people. Thank you, everyone.

Kari

For more coverage of the Puglian Supper nights, visit the following links for Le Marché and Scout. Keep your eyes peeled for future events, you never know what we might be up to next!

Le Marché St. George

Event Coverage: Creanza Olive Oil tasting & Puglian Dinner N° 002


Scout Magazine x Le Marche St. George Present x Famiglia Creanza


Event Coverage: Creanza Olive Oil tasting & Puglian Dinner

Scout Magazine

Seen In Vancouver #363: The Puglian Supper In The Back Garden Of Le Marche St. George


AWESOME THING WE ATE #864: Crostada Of Apple & Almond, Basil Ice Cream & Olive Oil


Le Marche St. George & Scout To Present An Intimate Italian Supper On Sunday (Sold Out)

Scout Magazine photo credit.

Scout Magazine photo credit.

Scout Magazine photo credit.

Scout Magazine photo credit.

Luis Valdizon photo credit.

Luis Valdizon photo credit.

Luis Valdizon photo credit.

Boom, Boom, POW! Dark Fruit Bat Pie

Very few things can get me up and raring to go at an early hour, other than a day's promise of money, good food, or hot company.  It's very safe to assume that I'm sleeping in on a day off unless there's a killer breakfast to be had, or something exciting, like dinosaurs, smooches, or a giant comic-con to get the morning started.

This weekend there just so happened to be a giant nerd convention in town, called FaneXpo. It's not just comics, it's Star Wars, it's Batman, it's anime, celebrity guests, independent artists, drawing battles, vendor booths, cosplay, you name it, all happening under one roof. My prayers totally were answered by the way, and someone from Battlestar Galactica was supposed to be there. So say we all!

FaneXpo is a big deal because it would appear as though Vancouver has never had a large comic-con before. We have had small, quarterly ones that I never went to, because I really wanted to visit larger events, like the ones held in New York, San Diego, Emerald City, PAX, yet was too broke (and unwilling) to travel to them.

My reasoning was that there were many other Vancouverites in the same boat, and if some enterprising person or company had a brain for prosperity, they would bring the show to us, not the other way around, so it was just a matter of time and seething "patience," if it could be called that.

But now...the time is here! I rifled through booths of graphic novels, gawked at the original Batmobile, asked an artist to draw sketches, and reveled in general geekery...just enjoyed being in the environment where a lot of people were excited and happy, and in some cases, wearing elaborate costumes that made it difficult for them to move through crowds. Ghostbusters! Halo! Groups dressed as Iron Mans, Batmans, and Robins! Storm Troopers! Game of Thrones characters! GI Joe! Kids in hilarious muscle-padded suits! Giant fairy wings and hoop skirts became ill-conceived fashion choices...giant, furry capes probably were, too.

I didn't cosplay, but picked up a new accessory last week. I don't need any more glasses, but couldn't resist picking up another pair that was classy, elegant, stylish, and truly reflected who I am (which excludes the first three adjectives).

While my other frames whisper, "Librarian!" these ones yell "Nnnnnerrrrrrrrd!" in Homer Simpson's voice. My justification was that it's my birthday, and I stumbled upon a killer deal. I have never cared much for luxury goods the way some people seek out their favourite brands...but these were cute...on me. Which isn't usually the case with labels. If a company can say house of before its name, I know that

1) if I can actually find my size (if they even make my size!), it is going to be too small for my ass and too big for my waist, and
2) if that were even the case, whatever it is, is out of my price range.

None of the above is applicable if we are talking about House of Knives or House of Pancakes.

Now. About food! Today's recipe is a pie. Because pie is always a YES! in my books, and is also geeky enough to merit a math-related holiday. That, and cake says "Party!" while pie says "chill out. Things move slow 'round these here parts..." and this weekend has had its fill of excitement already.

Delicious pies aren't hard to make, people just trick themselves into believing that they are.

Like cakes!

And math equations!

Food is just another language, with different variables...Temperatures, measurements, textures, pH levels: It's my favourite one.

Whether you think you can or can't do something, you're right, so it's a good idea to use the power of positive thinking here.

Give yourself a lot of free time and elbow room, and plan ahead. Get all your stuff ready to go before beginning your work.

And if you're scared...don't be. Pastry dough can smell fear.

Here are some motivational thoughts for you, from Tony Robbins.

"If you can't, you must. If you must, you can."

“You are now at a crossroads. This is your opportunity to make the most important decision you will ever make. Forget your past. Who are you now? Who have you decided you really are now? Don't think about who you have been. Who are you now? Who have you decided to become? Make this decision consciously. Make it carefully. Make it powerfully.”

You don't need to answer the call and be a superhero, which is kind of what it sounds like he could be talking about here...but making a pie will make you feel pretty damn fantastic and proud, won't it?

Even if it doesn't turn out perfect!

Because this one totally did not, and that's okay! I'm going to share with you why it didn't, and how to make sure that yours turns out better. At the very least, it will be amazingly tasty.

It would be funny if more food blogs showed disaster recipes, or things that did not work out in general, like what not to do. Good cooks make mistakes. Once. Then they move on and don't repeat that particular one.

Learn from me.



Notes

I am a greedy, greedy woman when it comes to pastry crust. I could eat it with every meal and not get enough. And that is one reason why this pie went to hell.

This is the least-crappy pie-dough-edge job I ever did, too...dammit!

The pie dish I used doesn't have a flat, horizontal edge, like a traditional pie plate, because it was a pretty, ceramic tart dish, and instead of cutting off more of the excess pastry and letting the dough simply hang down (after pressing it into the outer sides of the dish), or having the entire pie top fit juuust over the top of the dish, I decided to keep the extra overhang, and crimp it and make it pretty, so the edges were pointy like a POW! Batman sign. I wanted that extra dough, and this is the trouble it begat. Gravity!

On a flat-surface-edged-pan this wouldn't have been an issue with the edges pointing upwards, but once the butter in pastry dough warmed up in the oven, the fluted edges started to unroll. I thought it might possibly bake fast enough not to be an issue because my new oven is crazy hot, but such was not the case...and for appearance's sake, one could say it was a pastry debauchle (the edges turned into a mullet!), but it all baked up nice and golden-brown, so really, my stomach is very pleased with the result and doesn't care. I'm not at work or in France.

In the back of my mind, based on experience, I knew this would happen, and this is why it is a bad idea to bake with a hungry belly. It commands and overpowers the rest of your senses.

Another place where the recipe didn't turn out perfectly was simply that the bat symbol moved quite a lot after baking. It's reality, that even with resting in the fridge in between making the dough, rolling it out, and putting it in the oven, the pastry shrinks up a bit as it bakes, the fruit under the pastry collapses a little, and what you could potentially be left with...is a husky bat symbol.

You can tell it's The Bat Symbol, but there's something different about it, like when a hefty fanboy is wearing a too-tight Batman T-shirt at FaneXpo, which actually makes the pie very fitting for the occasion. That is the scenario for which this recipe works. It's pretty funny when you think about it, and to be clear, I AM NOT HATING on extra-large Fanboys. I used to be a extra-large Fangirl. Alright? Alright.

If you want to make it clear that you made a Bat-oriented pie, without the stretch factor, you might just have to conceal the fruit entirely. Make it a closed-top pie, cut vents that allude to a bat shape, or cut a bat signal from scrap pastry, and egg-wash-stick-it on top, and I don't know, egg-wash-stick black sesame seeds or something else dark on there. Or make a pie that has a bottom and a pretty edge, but no top other than a bat-shaped piece of pastry. Good luck.

This entire bat-shaped-hole in the pie idea came from pie birds, the ceramic birds with holes in their mouths that stick out of a pie middle to help steam escape. I thought, "Why not have a pie bat-hole?"

In any case, it was to be an experiment that ended in eating pastry and ice cream, which is how more things in life ought to work out.

Dark Fruit Bat Pie

serves 6 - 10
Prep time: 1 hour
Chill time: 1 hour
Bake time: 45 minutes

This is a great pie for any day and any weather, but will be especially awesome (and less expensive) if you can get the fruit because it is in season during the summer. I made this recipe using alternative sweeteners (with low glycemic indexes) but it will work just as well with regular sugar.

Also: Use a scale. I'm not joking.



Pie crust

225g all-purpose flour
30ml (2 tbsp) coconut sugar
5ml (1 tsp) fine kosher or sea salt
150g unsalted butter
75ml (5 tbsp) ice water


Filling

720ml (3 cups) blackberries, fresh or thawed
720ml (3 cups) blueberries, fresh or thawed
45ml (3tbsp) all-purpose flour
15ml (1 tbsp) agave syrup (or 1 tbsp + 1 tsp sugar)
pinch of salt

Egg Wash

1 egg
water



1. Sift or gently whisk flour, sugar, and salt together in a bowl. Set it aside in the fridge. Spread out a piece of saran wrap on your work surface, about 1.5 feet long.

2. Cut butter into cubes, about 1.5 cm on each side.

3A. If you have a food processor, pour half the flour into its bowl, followed by the butter, then the rest of the flour.
     Pulse a few times until pea-sized lumps of butter remain. Pulse a few more times while adding water just until the dough comes together.
    Turn the bowl upside down onto the saran wrap. Gently knead it together a few times, shape it into a thick, round disc, wrap it, and chill for 1 hour, up to 3 days.

3B. If you don't have a food processor, put the butter in the flour bowl and give it a shake so it all gets coated.
      Dump everything out in a large pile on your work surface. Coat your hands in the flour, and begin squeezing giant fistfuls of the butter and flour together, like you're an angry Incredible Hulk.
      Repeat until the mixture is crumbly and sandy with some pea-sized lumps of butter.
      Turn the mixture into a volcano (mountain with a hole in it), and pour in the water. Stir with your fingers to begin incorporating the water until it becomes thick and pasty, then begin kneading and folding everything together just until it becomes a dough that can be shaped into a thick, round disc. Wrap it and chill for 1 hour, up to 3 days.

4. Put the berries in a bowl. Sprinkle the agave syrup, flour, and salt, over them, and toss them in the bowl to fully coat. Pour them into your baking dish and pile it up a little at the center.

5. Make an egg wash by beating an egg in a bowl, and adding a few tablespoons of water so that it is still sticky, but smooth, not chunky-goopy.

6. Dust your work surface and a rolling pin with flour. Place the dough on the surface, bonk it a few times with the rolling pin, hard, but evenly, to flatten it out a little. Rotate it 90 degrees, and do it again, so it's still round, but flatter.

7. Dust the dough with flour. Roll it from the middle outwards, from north to south. Rotate it 90 degrees, and repeat until about 3mm (or 1/4") thick. Check underneath in between rotations to see if a little more flour is needed so that it doesn't stick.

8. If you have been graced with a steady drawing/cutting hand, now would be the time to make a freehand Bat Symbol cutout for your pie, working quickly so the dough stays cold. If not...print out one from the internet, blow it up to the size you want, and use it as a stencil for tracing with a knife. Do what you will with the pastry bat. I baked it.

9. Egg-wash the top rim and sides of your baking dish with a pastry brush. Carefully lift the pastry and center it on top of the pie. Clip away the excess, save for 2 inches all around. Press extra pastry length into the sides of the dish, creating nice pleats if necessary. Chill for 30 minutes. If not using extra pastry, lay scraps on top of each other in a pile, and carefully knead them once or twice into a small disk to chill or freeze for another use.

10. Move a rack to the center level of your oven and preheat it to 350°F. Egg-wash all the pastry, top and sides. Sprinkle on a little extra sugar and salt if you feel like it (this pie was done without).

11. Bake until the fruit is bubbling and the crust is a rich golden-brown colour, about 45 minutes, depending on your oven (check it after 30).

12. Let it cool on a rack for about 20 minutes, so the fruit juice thickens a little and is more of a sauce that will not totally burn your mouth.

Tough Love and Short Ribs

There's a scene from that movie, The Other Guys, that always makes me laugh.

Red-hot mama Eva Mendez put on a nice dress and made dinner for her lunkheaded husband, Will Ferrell, who acts like a jerk and puts her down, before she eventually throws him out of the house.

Allen: These braised short ribs taste like a dog's ***hole.

Sheila: Sweetie!

Allen: You know what? I'm sitting here thinking who in the world would slow roast a dog's ***hole and serve it to their husband. You would.

I laugh even harder when she finally gets angry at him.

Braised short ribs are worth yelling for!

I had never made them before this post, but know a thing or two about preparing meat that collapses under fork contact, and there's a lot that can be learned by watching other people.

Why else would cooking shows exist?

Last year I was working myself into ill health (in all aspects of life but financial) at a restaurant that had a reputation with customers for producing beautifully crafted food, and a reputation in the industry for eating cooks alive. I was surprised by how long I lasted there (others probably were, as well), and even though I wanted to shoot myself on many occasions, the pride taken in the the food and its execution was hard to match in this city, and there's a sick part of me that will always miss putting out work of that calibre. A repetitive stress injury finally did me in, but by that point, it was already clear to me that I needed to begin  learning and bringing my energy and talent somewhere else.

Near the end of my time there, our chef put short ribs on the menu. These giant slab of meaty, fatty goodness. They were braised overnight, became incredibly tender, and flew out of the kitchen, like nobody's business.  I worked on other stations, and never got to make them, as we only had one meat/grill cook other than the head chef and sous chef, but a hungry nose can do much for a young cook.

Every now and then, Big Lou's Butcher Shop carries short ribs, and in a last-ditch attempt to enjoy a few last wintery dishes before the sun comes out to stay, I tried them out. They were braising all day while I was at work. One of the best things about slow-cooked recipes is how they perfume a kitchen. That and how they make people feel special and cared for, because they're usually old-fashioned comfort foods.

Luis kept a vigilant watch to make sure the house didn't burn down. He was so tempted by the aroma, and lit some incense from Old Faithful, "to make the place smell like man."

Meaty, woodsy, and smoky. That's actually like my current workplace, so really, he made the house smell like me!

For practicality's sake, I split this recipe into two stages, as if a person were to braise the short ribs overnight, then reheat them and make a sauce to go with them for dinner the next evening. If you're really clever, and time it so you get this all done in one go (morning until night for dinner, or night until morning because you want a crazy breakfast), it's simpler.

Feel free to go wild with your sides. If you're the type to go big or go home, I'd recommend lemon and herb risotto, foie gras mashed potatoes, gnocchi dumplings with black truffle shavings...

I went with simple roasted vegetables and a tomato-based sauce, wanting the short ribs to be the star, while trying to cram the health factor in there, as well as a touch of sweetness and acidity to balance the flavours out.

This recipe is definitely happening again soon, but Chinese-ified.

My mom would be so proud.

PS: I was totally watching the new Game of Thrones episode instead of looking for the camera, so these are all on-the-run iPhone pics, no staged prettiness and fumbling with settings. Gator don't have time for that mess today!

Short Ribs and Tomato Glaze

Serves 2
Prep time: 20 minutes
Cook time: 8 hours inactive, 20 minutes active

This recipe is shockingly easy compared to how incredible the end results are. I used the oven, for accurately controlled heating, but you can also do this in a shallow layer with a wide slow cooker. Short ribs naturally have a lot of fat throughout them as well as the cap on top, so look for ones that have more meat on them in comparison.

Braise

1/2 an onion, roughly chopped
1 carrot, peeled, cut in large chunks
2 stalks celery, cut in large chunks
6 pieces short ribs, cut into 3-inch sections (about 1 to 1.5 pounds)
2 tbsp olive oil

1/2 cup red wine
4 cups water
2 cloves garlic, smashed
1 tsp whole black peppercorns
3 bay leaves (dried)
a few sprigs of thyme
small handful of parsley stems
fine kosher or sea salt, and freshly cracked black pepper, as needed


Sauce

congealed short rib braising liquid (all of it)
1 sprig thyme
2 cups beef or vegetable stock (home-made is best, if buying, get low-sodium)
2 tbsp tomato paste
2 tbsp unsalted butter
salt to taste



1. Preheat oven to 225°F and move a rack to the center of the oven.

2. Cut your vegetables. Sauté them in a heavy-bottomed pan, with oil on medium-high heat until you can see the carrots and onions begin to caramelize. Set them aside in a large casserole or baking dish.

3. Season the short ribs liberally on all sides with salt and pepper, and sear on all sides until they also show caramelization, being careful not to burn the sugars on the bottom of the pan. Nestle the meat in the bottom of the dish.

4. Deglaze the pan immediately with the water. Do you have some good red wine in the house? Throw in half a cup. If you don't, don't worry about it. Bring liquid to a simmer, stirring to loosen the brown bits.

5. Add the garlic, peppercorns, bay leaves, thyme, and parsley stems to the meat and vegetables. Pour the hot liquid over. You want the pieces of meat to be covered just about two-thirds of the way.

6. Clamp a tight-fitting lid over everything and braise it in the oven for 8 hours. Check the water level after 4 and 6 hours. You want the liquid to reduce, but not completely evaporate, so add a bit more if needed. If you're leaving this unsupervised all day, increase water to 6 cups, just in case.

7. Take the dish out of the oven. Pull out the short ribs, strain the rest. Toss out the aromatics and vegetable mush. Reserve the liquid. There should be about half a cup, it's okay if there's more.

8. Cover everything and chill until ready to reheat.

Note: There is going to be a lot of beef fat floating on top. To make it easy to separate from the congealed short rib liquid later, pour it all into a bowl or ramekin that is lined with saran wrap, then lift out or flip upside down when ready. The fat can be saved for re-use later. If you are making this recipe all at once, without a break, ladle out all of the fat, and set the short ribs aside, re-incorporating them at step 10.

9. Bring the short rib liquid, thyme, stock, and tomato paste in a heavy-bottomed saucepan to a boil. Reduce by half, over high heat.

10. Add short ribs to the pan. Lower the heat to medium and cover tightly, to warm them through for 10 minutes, then tilt lid askew and continue to reduce.

11. Remove short ribs when there is about 1/4 cup of liquid left, just enough to cover the bottom of the pan. The bubbles should be thick, slow and oozy.

12. Add butter to the sauce, quickly swirling and shaking the pan to emulsify it. Season with salt to taste, and brush/spoon a little on top of the meat before serving.

I am very much looking forward to making this again, for more people.

Thank you!

Kari

5 Things I Love This Week

Hello, friends!

I am so excited today! Joy the Baker and Tracy from Shutterbean issued homework for their podcast listeners who are also bloggers, to post about their 5 favourite things this week.

This is a rad assignment, because if you check out the 5 Things category on the sidebar, I've actually written a few of these types of posts before, and even mentioned how much I like the Joy The Baker Podcast right here! What an opportunity to join in on the fun. Thanks, Joy and Tracy!

To sum it up briefly, The Joy The Baker Podcast is my weekly dose of girly laughter. If I haven't already listened to the latest one immediately, I tend to save it for tasks that have a high-drudgery-quotient, like packing, washing a mountain of dishes, or riding the bus to work on an ugly day when everyone has wet, smelly coats and is in a bad mood. If you adore baking, cute photography, pretty things, and laughing about awkward situations, Joy and Tracy are the ladies everybody wants to be internet friends with.

I wish I were on TV, like for an episode of Oprah's Favourite Things, so I could yell in the Oprah voice, "Kaaaaarriiiiiii's Faaaaaaaavoooourite Thiiiiings! YOU get a car! YOU get a car! You get a banaaaaaaana saaaaaaandwich!" It could go all over the internet, like Tyra Banks and the "YOU GET VASELINE!" video. She needs to relax.

Also, I don't remember where my camera is (it wasn't that great so I didn't pack it in the VERY IMPORTANT!!! box) so today's post is coming to you, courtesy of my new iPhone...which is another one of my favourite things.

I cheated.

Egg Yolks

Good quality eggs are one of my favourite things. They are so wonderful in their simplicity, and have endless fantastic uses. If I ever became allergic to them I would be incredibly, ridiculously sad. I'm not opposed to creamy scrambled ones, but will never turn down the promise of nicely cooked eggs with gloriously runny yolks.

Today I was in the mood to try that British dish, boiled egg and soldiers, but instead of toast sticks, I thinly sliced a ciabatta loaf that my boyfriend baked, to make olive oil crostinis (which is another favourite and addictive thing altogether). I didn't put cracked pepper on the egg as usual, instead putting extra on the bread, but sprinkled on top is another favourite, applewood smoked sea salt. I am a big fan of smoked salts, too. My pantry smells like a campfire. It's awesome.

Definitely combine a lot of Favourite Things to make breakfast whenever possible. It's how to start a day off right!

Sunshine in Vancouver

I live in Vancouver, BC, which is on the west coast of Canada. It's a very beautiful place, and is full of trees, fresh air, water, and active people, especially in my neighborhood. The diehards are the ones you see running outside all year, though, because we get a lot of rain. You know how in Sweden it's dark-ish for 8 months of the year? We get that in precipitation, and people with Seasonal Adjustment Disorder.

I can see the mountains and water from my neighborhood. Loving it!

The sun is coming back, finally, in between cloudy weather and it's kind of a big deal! Everybody's mood improves when Vancouver is sunny. It's often windy here, too, because we're close to the water, but today, I marched outside in a ridiculously bright tank dress with flip flops and no cardigan, for the first time this year. Summer is nigh!!

Flowers everywhere

Cherry blossoms everywhere...my new neighborhood reminds me of the one I grew up in.

One of the best things about the sun coming out is all of the flowers and leaves. Vancouver is also the home of thousands of cherry blossom trees, and we are actually in the middle of a festival that celebrates them. We also have a semi-outdoor subway/transit station that is covered in the trees, and together they make an amazing canopy. It cheers up a lot of grouchy people who are on their way to work downtown for sure.

I love flowers, and young, springy leaves that decide to burst out of a tree branch or stalk of something. My mom has gardened and grown a lot of plants since I was a kid, and sometimes when I look at a flower, I can hear her voice, saying "That's a snapdragon!" or "Those are crocuses!"

Happy, living plants make me feel at home.

 


Glownola

After culinary school, I decided to become more conscious of my food, especially after having paid off my student loans. At some point shortly before then, conventionally-raised meat just wasn't doing it for me anymore.

One day I was chewing some food and thought "Wow, this doesn't taste good at all! An animal died for this? Really?!" and I decided to give ethically raised meats a try, or go vegetarian.  Last year I switched to buying organic and free range eggs, meats, and milk, and noticed a lot of difference in the flavour and quality.

I am happy to support ethical farmers/ranchers, which is part of why I work in a business that promotes these types of meats. I eat vegetarian and sometimes vegan meals a few days of the week, to keep things balanced and healthy, but there are always going to be customers who want to buy meat, so the more of them that we can encourage to try better farmers and create more demand for better product and therefore better treatment of animals and the environment, the better off we will all be. Everything we eat becomes a part of us.

Sometimes I feel really sluggish, so I have been tinkering with my diet this year, by eating more vegetables and protein (especially eggs and tofu), and eating less white flour and refined white sugar, swapping them out more often with different grains and alternative sweeteners that have low glycemic indexes, because the potential of having diabetes one day freaks me out. I'm not a celiac either, but am feeling really good so far! Later on I will experiment with making raw dehydrated snacks.

Last month, The Man and I went to an open house sampling for a line of products called GLOW, from a company called For The Love of Food. Julie Beyer designed her GLOW products to help people enjoy nutrient-dense snacks and satisfy cravings while making them feel good from the inside out. My top favourite is the mint chocolate chip GLOWnola (granola), which is organic, gluten and dairy free, raw, sprouted, uses an alternative sweetener, and heirloom raw cacao powder and nibs, which have a lot more health benefits than modern good quality dark chocolate, which already has some perks for your system.

Every day I look forward to having some, and will eat it right out of my hand, in milk with Holy Crap's Skinny B cereal, or sprinkled on some Greek Gods honey-flavoured yogurt. It's so indulgent, yet surprisingly energizing and affordable! That bag in the picture is almost empty because I ate it all. Not ashamed one bit.

My New Kitchen

My last place didn't have drawers, or proper shelves in the cabinets, or a kitchen that was separate from the loosely-termed "bedroom", or a toilet paper roll holder, for that matter. It was almost as though that entire section of the house was built without knowledge of the existence of human life, but of course the rent was normal for a single-person-living-suite. Welcome to the life of a Vancouver renter with a moderate income! There are a lot of builders and contractors in this city who need a kick in the shin.

Our new kitchen, though...I want to sing. It makes me so happy. Overhead cabinets that flip open. Drawers that glide shut slowly and quietly, even if you push them hard! Cabinets with lots of shelves for storage! Cute windows! A sink-and-a-half! It's very open and has enough room for all of my appliances, knives, dry goods, and props, as well as my boyfriend's, and space for the marble-topped kitchen island we picked up.

It's so bright and pretty that I feel like I'm on a cooking show in this place. Wow!

That's all for now! I have a recipe to post by Wednesday, and am really excited to share it with you.

Two words: Short ribs!

Stay tuned!

Kari