Food Musings

A Winnipeg blog about the joy of preparing food for loved ones and the shared joy that travel & dining brings to life.

Tuscany Will Have to Wait

September9

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Well, it is official.  Unfortunately, we did not hit our minimum enrollment target to make our sojourn to Tuscany a reality.  The vistas of purple hued rolling hills and golden valleys will still be there when we plan our next trip to Italy.  Of course I was already dreaming about and tasting the fine wines and the mind-blowing food! But the vinters and the chefs will also wait for us.

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As is often the case for D and I, we consoled ourselves very successfully.  We spent this weekend celebrating our recent wedding anniversary.  We sat in cozy beach chairs and consumed a lovely bottle of Riesling while surveying the sunset on Friday evening.  We ate mussels poached in coconut milk, garlic and cilantro while watching the last couple of episodes of House of Cards.  The night was warm and clear, so we pulled cushions out onto the deck and gazed at the northern sky for hours, guessing which lights were planets or satellites and shouting out when we saw falling stars.  The next day, after D kept his weekend tennis date, we walked to a secluded area of the beach that we share only with very special people.  We basked in the sun and did the crossword puzzle together.  We walked along many kms of almost empty, glorious sandy beach until we came upon a huge group of kite board surfers.  After perching in the sand and marveling at their antics, we headed back in the other direction.

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True to form, we started discussing and planning our next trips.  We have decided to take in Canadian wine country and will spend some time in Niagara on the Lake, one of the homes of Jackson Triggs, which my good friends know is my favourite Merlot.  We will look up old friends that own and run a successful restaurant in the area.  Our intention is also to head to Stratford, where another set of long-time friends run a B&B.  We intend to take in a couple of plays of the Stratford Festival and the chances are very good that we will drink and sup well there too.

Most excitingly, we are planning our next trip to Europe to coincide with next year’s anniversary-our 30th.  We have great fun discussing our options.  Perhaps we will include Praque and Poland where my Dad and his family were from.  Perhaps Greece and Sicily so that we can visit again with good friends and explore the east side of the island.  Perhaps the Isle of Skye and the Isle of Man, where my Mom’s family originated.  One thing that we know for sure.  We will fly through London.  We were astonished by how affordable airfare is (especially when compared to Canadian fares), once you are in Europe and departing from one of their air hubs.  So London will definitely be part of our itinerary.

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We think that the research that you do before a major trip is a great part of the fun.  We get out our laptops together and start poking around in order to sketch out an itinerary.  We also love getting deals on hotels.  Luxury is not important to us as we literally only sleep and shower there, but location is very key.  When we travel, we love to live like locals, not tourists, and so a residential neighbourhood amidst local shops, pubs and cafes is our preference.  We have been having fun searching through London Hotels.  We can refer to maps of the city and the various neighbourhoods of London.  We can even limit our search by budget which will come in handy.

Will we make it to Tuscany eventually?  Oh, I am sure that we will.  But in the mean while, our next adventure awaits.

Kath’s quote: “Oh, the places you’ll go!” -Dr. Seuss

Love-that is all.

 

 

Grandma Felicia’s Polish Cake

September8

I am writing this as part of the Canadian Food Experience Project which began June 7 2013.  As we the participants, share our collective stories across the vastness of our Canadian landscape through our regional food experiences, we hope to bring global clarity to our Canadian culinary identity through the cadence of our concerted Canadian voice.

My Dad was a first generation Canadian.  He was born in Poland and raised in what is now called the Czech Republic.  He arrived in southern Saskatchewan (approximately 75 miles south of Moose Jaw) with his Mom Felicia and his little brother.  His Dad had settled a couple of years before, undoubtedly because of having seen the notice below:

Every person who is the sole head of a family and every male who has attained the age of 18 years and is a British subject or declares his intention of becoming and British subject, is entitled to apply for entry to a homestead. A quarter-section may be obtained as a homestead on payment of an entry fee of $10 and fulfillment of certain conditions of residence and cultivation. To qualify for the issuing of the patent, the settler must have resided upon his homestead for at least six months of each of three years, must have erected a habitable house thereon, and must have at least 30 acres of his holding broken, of which 20 acres must be cropped. A reduction may be made in the area of breaking where the land is difficult to cultivate on account of scrub or stone.

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They settled in the community known as Limerick.  My Grandma cleaned the homes of other families while Grandpa continued to work their land and build their little farmhouse.  At the same time, my Dad and Uncle attended a one room school house where the most difficult task was learning to speak English.  When the Second World War was declared, the brothers enlisted in the air-force, eager to defend their new country.  My Dad survived the crash of his aircraft in Europe.  My Uncle never did make it overseas, haven been killed when his training plane crashed into a hill not far from Moose Jaw.

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Her stove looked a great deal like this but is less ornate.

As time went on, my Grandma moved into a house in “town” where she grew geraniums on every window sill and white lace curtains floated in the breeze.  She had a big old stove that took up most of her kitchen.  It would be filled with coal in the morning and then sticks of wood would be added as the day went by.  The beautiful appliance included a cistern where water could be heated and held.  A pot of soup or stew could be placed on top and brought to a rapid bowl and then moved to a cooler area of the cook-top to simmer the morning away.  I can distinctly remember the amazing tastes of Grandma’s potato soup, prune dumplings served with melted butter and cinnamon sugar and freshly killed chickens fried in boiling lard- producing the crispest and juiciest chicken I have ever tasted.

Baking was more problematic as the oven had one temperature and could not be adjusted or moderated.  But she stilled managed to produce the most delectable bread, buns, apple pie, poppy seed roll, thimble cookies and this, her prized cake that we simply callPoli sh Cake.  When Sister #3 was researching the origin of the recipe for a cookbook that she is writing, she found that similar cakes had Jewish origins, so she has surmised that Grandma must have obtained the recipe from a Jewish neighbour in Poland.

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Acquiring this recipe was a task in itself as Grandma did not write any of her recipes down.  My sister-in-law observed Grandma making this cake on one visit and took notes while trying to get Grandma to be as specific as possible.  Years later, Sister #3 took those notes and started recipe writing and testing.  Here are the results:

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Grandma Felicia's Polish Cake
Author: 
Recipe type: Dessert
Cuisine: Eastern Europe
 
Ingredients
  • Filling
  • 1½ cups milk
  • ⅓ cup cream of wheat
  • 6 tbsp Icing sugar
  • ½ cup soft butter or margarine
  • 1 medium egg
  • 1 tsp rum extract
  • Raspberry jam
  • Cake
  • ¼ cup soft butter or margarine
  • 3 heaping tablespoons of soft honey
  • 1 medium sized egg
  • ½ cup white sugar
  • 1 tsp. Baking soda
  • ½ cup evaporated milk
  • Sift 2½ cups flour
Instructions
  1. Method
  2. Boil milk then add cream of wheat stir 3 – 4 minutes being sure not to burn it.
  3. Cover and set aside to cool.
  4. Line 2 round pans 8 or 9” cake pans with parchment paper cut into rounds to cover the bottom.
  5. Mix cake ingredients together until dough is smooth but sticky.
  6. Flour a surface and rolling pin and roll cake out a bit maintaining round shape.
  7. Bake in 350ºF oven for 15 minutes or until light brown.
  8. Beat cream of wheat, sugar and butter until creamy.
  9. Add egg and rum extract and beat until stiff.
  10. Cut each cake into three layers.
  11. Take first layer of cake and top with ⅙th of the cream of wheat mixture.
  12. Add a thin layer (2 tbsp) of Jam. (I melt the jam in the microwave to make it easier to spread).
  13. Take the second cake place it on top of the jam mixture.
  14. Repeat with cream of wheat mixture and jam till all layers are added.
  15. Cover and refrigerate for at least a couple of hours.
  16. Taste best if made a day ahead.

My Grandma Felicia lived in her sparkling little house until she was in her 90s.  She picked peas in her garden a few days before she passed away.

Kath’s quote: “Throughout history, the Poles have defended Europe. They would fight, and – between battles – they would eat and drink.”-E. de Pomiand

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Love-that is all.

posted under Desserts | 5 Comments »

Khachapuri

September6

Truth is, I didn’t know precisely where Georgia was until I got out our big atlas that resides in our living room and is pulled out frequently for my enlightenment.  You might say that I am geographically challenged. Good friends of ours invited us over for a taste of Georgian cooking as she had spent time in that country and picked up some culinary favourites.

Her husband helped me get up to speed with an excerpt from his 2006 blog post:

A Georgian Table

There are two legends that Georgians tell to explain the creation of their country, and fascinatingly, both involve food. In the first, the Georgians claim that when God was distributing land to all the peoples of the Earth, they were too busy feasting and drinking to show up at the appointed time. When they finally arrived, they were dismayed to learn that all the land had already been given away. They explained to God the reason for their delay, and God, obviously recognizing the value of a people who would rather be feasting than fighting over land, took pity on them and gave the Georgians the part of the Earth that he had been reserving for himself – naturally, the most beautiful part. In the second legend, God took a supper break while creating the world, and became so involved with his meal that he inadvertently tripped over the high peaks of the Caucasus, spilling his food onto the land below. This land blessed by heaven’s table scraps was Georgia.

We were not observing supra, which is a feast when a huge assortment of dishes are prepared, always accompanied by large amounts of wine.

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These feasts are said to go on for hours but we didn’t have hours, just a bit of time before the boys had to go to bed.
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At this meal we enjoyed a lovely salad and a delectable marinated and grilled pork.  But to be honest, what I was fascinated with and couldn’t get enough of was the Khachapuri which I understand is their version of cheese bread and is a a staple of Georgian kitchens.
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Sarah referred to her Nani’s recipe when she described to me how Khachapuri is made.  A simple dough is prepared with the inclusion of Balkan yoghurt. In a separate bowl the cheese filling is mixed together from feta, butter and eggs.  Sarah mixes and kneads her dough in her bread maker.  Then she splits the dough into eight equal parts.  She rolls out each portion and then places 1/8th of the cheese filling in the middle.  She then folds the edges up around the filling, pinches it together and flattens back into a thick disk.  These dense cakes are then heated in a dry frying pan 2-3 minutes per side.  Oh my, I couldn’t get enough of these.
The meal and the Khahapuri tasted like the perfect blend of Eastern European and Middle Eastern cooking.  When I did a little bit of research on the history of Georgian fare, these are the two primary influences of the region’s cuisine.
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A gorgeous trifle was served next.  One of the boys tried very patiently to wait for dessert.
Kath’s quote: “Anybody who believes that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach flunked geography.”-Robert Byrne
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Love-that is all.
posted under Breads, Recipes | 1 Comment »

Musings on the First Day of School

September3

Even though my gang is long out of grade school, I still I am both excited and apprehensive on this day.  The jitters that the kids would have, would always be passed along to me and I would wonder about teachers and bullies and besties.  I would hope that they didn’t mind that although their clothes were clean and they had every item on their school supply list, that they would mind (or notice) that their new lunch kit was gifted to me at a golf tournament and that their gym shoes were actually one size too large because they were the only size left on that shoe sale.

My greatest anxiety was typically about their school lunch.  I dreaded the task because no matter how much effort went into it at my end, the bags and Tupperware found in knapsacks, would tell the true tale of what had been considered delicious, let alone appealing.  There were a couple of years where J1 traveled across town to school and then would stay in EK for dance classes in the evening and so lunch and dinner would have to be sent.  I was a dreadful failure at this, believing that he didn’t mind the packaged pasta package that I would send with him, thinking to myself “he’ll need the carbs” for his workout.

Suffice it to say, I am glad that my lunch making days are behind me.  Well, not quite.  This Friday, a friend of the Frenchman moves in with us for the fall and he has requested room and board.  I am relieved because there is no way that I could make the space for his ingredients in my weenie kitchen or overstuffed fridge.  I will be responsible for providing lunch “ingredients” so that he can pack a lunch for himself.  I think that I can pull that off.

I see photos of packed lunches on the Mommy blogs of compartmentalized boxes filled with fresh, nutritious and clever food.  And I think, boy those kids must be so loved that their Mom’s would go to that much trouble.  I hope that mine know that with working outside the home and scheduling extra-curricular activities for them, as well as trying to keep a house and take care of my hard-working husband, I did the best that I could manage.  I also hope that in spite of mediocre lunch bags, they were/are loved more than words can say.

Love-that is all.

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