When you are a sole proprietor with no employees, the Christmas season can be a little bit lonely.  I have two friends who are in the same situation and so the three of us get together for dinner each year and invite our spouses.  We’ve been to some of the city’s best restaurants including Sydney’s, and Deseo Bistro.  This year the Blue Marble was suggested and since sharing little plates is our favourite way to dine, D and I were delighted.  Every morsel that we sampled was “out of the world” so I would suggest that the Blue Marble is appropriately named.

When we arrived, we caught sight of the beautifully custom-built wine cellar. It features over 150 varieties and we decided that for our next party, we’ll set up a table in there.

We had some taxi issues getting out to the Hotel at the Winnipeg International Airport where the restaurant is located, so that when half of us arrived, the first three were already indulging in some gorgeous martinis.  D followed suit but I perused the wine list for a fine merlot.

We decided that a couple of Antipasto Platters would get us into the swing of things. We speared the assorted meats, cheese, marinated vegetables and olives and placed them upon lightly grilled baquettes.

One couple decide that we should indulge in some veggies and ordered the Roasted Beets with shaved fennel, peppery arugula, sparkling orange segments and creamy goat cheese. They also selected the unappetizing sounding Stewed Chicken which was a lovely surprise as the chicken was slow cooked with apricots, prunes, raisins, hazelnuts, pine nuts, walnuts, almonds and cinnamon and then nestled upon a bed of basmati rice.

The Berkshire pork tenderloin had been marinated in ginger and was served with pancetta creamed corn, braised leeks, edamame beans and chantrelle mushrooms.  I detected a birch smokiness to the delectable pork.

Seared pork belly was the crown upon the Cavena Risotto where hull-less oats substituted for traditional rice, stirred up with porcini mushrooms and blueberries, then topped with shaved parmesan and pea shoots.

When I read that black truffle olive oil and bacon dust adorned the Oxtail Ravioli I just had to order it.  The morel mushrooms and shaved parmesan were the icing on the proverbial cake.

The last time D and I ate beef tartar we were dining at Le Frog in Nice, France.  The Blue Marble’s version was a deserving equal, likely because it was made by mincing Canadian Prime Beef with northern pike caviar, avocado, horseradish puree and smoked black pepper.  With the accompaniment of truffle potato chips, I will never dream of beef tartar on the French Rivera again.

Absolutely satiated, D and I passed up desert but the Chocolate Crème Brule served with macaroons and berries certainly looked appetizing.

The delectable menu is designed around sustainable, locally produced items including the fresh herbs growing right in the dining room under the watchful eye of Chef Anthony. The chef’s resume includes experience at the now-defunct Le Beaujolais, Pine Ridge Hollow and the iconic Dubrovnik Restaurant. He also worked at Gluttons Bistro, the St. Charles Country Club and The Manitoba Club.

The next morning I received this email: “So that was a pretty fantastic evening… delightful laughs, near tears, introspective sharing, light gossip, good food, great friends – when can we all get together again? No reason why the ‘six pack’ can’t make it a twice yearly event.”

Kath’s quote: “Truffles are only really good after Christmas…..So let us allow ignorant fops, beardless gourmands, and inexperienced palates the perry triumph of eating the first truffles.”-Grimod de La Reynière

Live simply, laugh often, love deeply.

In Winnipeg at Christmas there’s lots and lots of snow,
Very clean, and crisp and hard
And glittering like a Christmas card
Everywhere you go;
Snow upon the housetops, snow along the street,
And Queen Victoria in her chair
Has snow upon her snowy hair
And snow upon her feet.
In Winnipeg at Christmas they line the streets with trees-
Christmas trees lit up at night
With little balls of coloured light
As pretty as you please.
The people hurry past you in furry boots and wraps;
The sleighs are like a picture book,
And all the policemen look
Like Teddy Bears in caps.
And oh! The smiling ladies and jolly girls and boys;
And oh! The parties and the fun
With lovely things for everyone-
Books and sweets and toys.
So, if someday at Christmas you don’t know where to go,
Just pack your bags I beg,
And start at once for Winnipeg;
You’ll like it there I know.

– Rose Fyleman

Kath’s quote: “God bless us, everyone.”-Charles Dickens

Live simply, laugh often, love deeply.

 

A week ago Monday my brother-in-law helped us out when we catered the Christmas volunteer dinner for one of our cherished local charities.  On that evening we all enjoyed our fill of turkey with all the trimmings and then we sent all our family who helped us with the dinner, home with left overs. We put our own left overs in the freezer so that we cold serve another special Christmas dinner to our “Young Families” group that we host at our home once a month. On Saturday we were on the way out to our little beach house because the weather was so balmy.  We asked my brother-in-law and Sister #2 over to share the left overs of our leftovers.

Sister #2 suggested that we switch things up in a couple of ways: we go to their place instead – we affectionately have dubbed their place “Reshmajal” as it will be absolutely splendid when construction is complete. In the meanwhile their “unfinished” abode is far more splendid than ours.  “Splendid” when compared to bare-bones simplicity means that the furnace was temperature programmed as opposed to us needing to continuously stoke the fire in our wood-stove and we got to use one of the two inside bathrooms instead of our outdoor biffy (even on a warm weekend that toilet seat was mighty chilly!)

In addition, she asked permission to repurpose the turkey into a long-loved family recipe: turkey croquettes. Sister #2 was lovingly instructed how to fashion this recipe by her Mother-in-law who was Italian and married to a gentleman (still ticking and over 90) of German descent.  When I asked them both where the recipe originated, neither could say for sure but suspected that it was through the German influence.  Wikipedia suggests though that the origin of croquettes is actually French.

As is often the case with family recipes passed along through generations, it is less of a “recipe” than a process or method. So, here’s what you do: take leftover turkey (or ham) and cut super finely to a minced texture.  Prepare a thick béchamel sauce of butter, white flour (this took some effort as neither Sister #2 or I keep white flour in the house) and milk. Mix the béchamel paste with the turkey and then form the mixture into sausage-like tubes. Next the sausages are dipped into an egg wash and rolled in bread crumbs. Lastly, they are fried in olive until crispy and golden brown.

I love the recipes of generations past as they ensure that no food is ever wasted, a concern that I maintain on a daily basis.  Besides, the results are so delicious! On Sunday evening we took a batch of Hamburger Soup and cheese buns over to Beep’s to share as a family, but the piece de resistance was the leftover turkey croquettes.

Kath’s quote: “Rational habits permit of discarding nothing left over, and the use to which leftovers (and their economic allies, the wild things of nature) are put is often at the heart of a cooking’s character.”-Richard Olney

Live simply, laugh often, love deeply.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When winter sets in, I day dream about warm weather travel to places I have never been and others I have already been. Today I am remembering our trek to Positano.  On this particular day we were travelling from Sicily up half of the leg of the Italian boot to the Amalfi Coast.  The day started at 5 am with a van ride from the cozy home of our friends in Castellammare Del Golfo to the Palermo train station.  Driving in Palermo is so stressful that I was thinking about a big glass of Chianti by about 6:30 am.

We had a reservation in a first class car and thought we were set.  Unfortunately another family thought the same and we spent most of the day with people who virtually ignored our existence.  Of course there was the language barrier which was our inadequacy not theirs.  But they held boisterous conversations while we tried to sleep, stretched their legs and leaned on us when they wanted to sleep and passed their shared lunch passed our faces when they wanted to eat.  And they were more accustomed to the heat than we were and thought it was just fine in the confined space without the AC.  But D and I always try to make the best of everything and so we spent the hours staring out the window at the Mediterranean, going for walks up and down the train cars and going up on deck when the train was boarded onto a ferry for the crossing from Messina, Sicily to mainland Italy.

By 4 in the afternoon we had reached our transfer destination in Salerno- a hectic/crazy seaside town and boarded a bus destined for Amalfi. I mistakenly took a window seat and although the vista is “to die for”, I didn’t particularly want to do so in the middle of our second honeymoon.  The hour long leg was extended because now it was almost the dinner hour and we found ourselves in the midst of Italian rush hour.  Amalfi was even more frenetic and we managed to just barely get onto a jammed bus before departure.  Someone offered me a seat at the back of the bus and D was stuck standing next to the bus driving.  “No worries, it’s only a 20 minute trip” our eyes said to each other.  Minutes later a tremendous thunderstorm rolled in and the bus literally parked on the mountainside.  Once the torrential rain passed we would surely be on our way-but no.

I had done my research and knew that it was feast day to celebrate the saint of Prairiano’s (10 minutes from Positano) home church.  What we didn’t know though was that there is only one road in and out of town and that the road that we were planted on was temporarily closed so that the townspeople could enjoy their procession to the church carrying their saint and the ensuing fireworks.  D tried to converse with the bus driver to determine how far from the town we were because now that 20 minute bus ride had taken and hour and a half.  When we finally arrived in town we determined that we had been one mountain curve away and could have walked it in five minutes.  Ah well, when in Rome…..

By this time we were so frazzled that we glugged the champagne that D had arranged would be chilling in our room and set out to find some supper.  Our first choice was a famous place that was very busy and I was so overheated by the humidity and champagne that I insisted that I would have to sit at one of the tables by an open window.  Because they were set for four and we were only two, we were refused and so we declined.  The owner was exasperated with us and made his frustration quite known to the rest of this diners. We had created quite the scene. Our second choice was close and we knew by our research that they served on their rooftop terrace.  But of course, it was closed due to the storm that had just passed but the lovely owner of La Strada could totally see my distress so she pulled a table next to an open window and brought me my own fan!

We shared a Quarto Pizza and Fusilli with langostino and asparagus.  The taste of the food was amplified by our day’s events, so to describe it as delicious and satisfying is such a gross understatement.  By the time we wandered back to our hotel for a Limonciello our whole psyche had been transformed.  We were in an ancient town with views of Positano from our window.  The rain had stopped and stars were making their appearance. We booked this perfect hotel here on this website. We highly recommend its use. Easy to navigate and perfectly trustworthy.

Kath’s quote: “One of the very nicest things about life is the way we must regularly stop whatever it is we are doing and devote our attention to eating.” ~Luciano Pavarotti

Love-that is all.

Last evening J1, J2, Boo, The Frenchman, Sister #3, SUM, Jon Boy and Dona, joined D and I to cater the annual Christmas dinner for the volunteers of a local charity which we hold near and dear to our hearts. D shops and roasts turkeys for the entire week and Sister #3 and Dona had just put on the Winnipeg Harvest Volunteer Dinner the day before, serving 150! It was the 20th year that Sister #3 had worked on that dinner.

We began by serving Kale, Brussels Sprout, Cranberry Power Slaw in a Poppyseed Dressing, family style to the tables with an assortment of freshly baked Harvest Bakery Buns. Then we set up a food station to serve the volunteers their turkey dinner. D has been catering this dinner for 17 years and somehow manages to make it fresh, new and delicious for the attendees. This year’s menu included:

Mashed Red Skin-on Potatoes

“Jerusalem” Sweet Potatoes with figs (recipe included in this link).

Wild Rice & Quinoa Harvest Stuffing

Green Beans tossed with Roasted Almonds and Red Pepper

and of course turkey, gravy and cranberry sauce which you can see by this plate, isn’t necessarily the star of the show.

Desert was Pineapple Upside Down Cake with Pineapple Rum Glaze but I was too busy eating mine to remember to take a picture of it.

Our favourite portion of the evening is when the assembly invites us to join them for taper lighting and the singing of Silent Night.  Last evening there was a profound silence before we blew out the candles-a time to contemplate the real reason for the season.

Kath’s quote: “I am going to church, Watson. I believe such attendance was a prominent element of the Christmas season before the giving of gifts and the consumption of certain fowl became de rigueur?”
-Sherlock Holmes, by J.N. Williamson

Love-that is all.