Food Musings

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

Ode to Bacon

August14

Bacon, how I love thee, let me count the ways……

August has been declared bacon month in Manitoba and in bacon’s honour I went back through my posts to see how often and for what occasions I cook with bacon.  (Writing a blog is a very helpful tool when you have a menopausal memory and a busy life).  Here’s what I came up with:

Warm Bacon Spinach Salad

Bacon Brussel Sprout Breakfast

Bacon Fritatta

Bacony Lazy Person Perogies

Bacon & Squash Pasta Sauce

Bacon-Wrapped Jalapeño Meatballs

Bacon-Wrapped Sea/Chicken Bundles

We’re so crazy about bacon that when I tasted bacon jam for my first time, on a hotdog at The Keg Steakhouse and Bar, I just had to figure out how to make it:

Bacon Jam

We even search out bacon delicacies when we are on holidays in Mexico:

Bacon Bimbo Dogs on Isla Mujeres

and in our favourite city (next to Winnipeg):

Bacon Peanut Brittle in NYC

Winnipeggers will have a fabulous opportunity to check out the bacon and other pork offerings at this weekend’s Winnipeg BBQ and Blues Festival.  Bacon month culminates with a Bacon Party at Rudy’s Eat and Drink on August 30th, 2014. Manitoba Pork also has a draw where 20 lucky winners will get bacon for a year.  See the details at manitobapork.com/bacon to enter.  Bacon, how I love thee, let me count the ways….

Kath’s quote: “I’ve long said that if I were about to be executed and were given a choice of my last meal, it would be bacon and eggs. There are few sights that appeal to me more than the streaks of lean and fat in a good side of bacon, or the lovely round of pinkish meat framed in delicate white fat that is Canadian bacon. Nothing is quite as intoxicating as the smell of bacon frying in the morning, save perhaps the smell of coffee brewing.”-James Beard

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Love-that is all.

An Important First

August13

As much as my primary premise in life and in this space is that food=love, there are times when I will contradict myself and declare that the food was the least important aspect of an evening and that love was still satiating a time and space.  Case in point: yesterday morning I texted Boo (Daughter #2) to ask if she would be home for dinner.  I had been spending time recently at the Beach House and I was missing her.  She replied “no, but would you and Dad like to come over and share supper with The Frenchman and me at his apartment”?  Was she kidding?  Would we like to?  First-time apartment dinners are a mountain-top experience in the story of a family!  I clearly remember the first time I invited family members over to my Kennedy St. apartment while still attending university.  In those days my budget/culinary skills/epicurean tastes revolved around instant noodles, peanut butter and chicken.  But, I carefully set the beautiful thrift-store table owned by my roomie with the blue willow earthenware that I still have (although they have been retired to add some colour to my perennial garden).  As usual, I digress…  You get the picture: these first invites are a very big deal!

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Boo and the Frenchman carefully selected the location of Seb’s apartment together so that it could be their first home when they marry in October.  But because it is to the “their” apartment, not only a interim bachelor pad, they are unpacking and decorating it  together, slowly and with care.

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The item that holds the most significance for me is their kitchen table which was one of two kitchen tables in our family home of almost sixty years.  My Mom and Dad purchased it upon my advice when a friend of ours owned a funky shop in Osborne Village called Form and Function.  My Bestie worked there (now lives in TO but we are getting together this weekend) but I helped out on the busy Saturdays prior to Christmas.  The table top is authentic maple butcher block and has survived the years with beauty and grace and will continue to for many more.  The Frenchman is just going to give it a light sanding and a massage of olive oil.

My most distinct memory of the table is it being laden with brunch items for our annual Christmas get together as an extended family – a mere 35 of us!

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Supper last night was absolutely delicious: make your own taco salad or soft tacos.  Boo didn’t want me to make a “fuss” about what they were serving because it was such an impromptu get together (in my mind, the best kind).  Even still, the table was thoughtfully set and the variety of fresh veggies carefully sliced.  We got caught up a bit and then continued to discuss wedding logistics and plans.

As we made the short drive home, D and I chatted about the tradition, joy, anticipation and hope that surrounds Boo and the Frenchman and fills their future home.

Kath’s quote: “Whenever I get married, I start buying Gourmet magazine.” -Nora Ephron

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Photo credit: The Frenchman’s Dad

Love-that is all.

Tapastry by Amici

August12

Sometimes food bloggers mess up.  Case in point: I have been trying for so long to get to Tapastry by Amici because I have long admired the Amici creators headed up by Chef Heinz Kattenfeld.  I did not realize until I arrived out at the Niakwa Golf and Country Club that even though the Amici name is branded with the restaurant, the association ends there.  In spite of my confusion, I was staying put as the three sisters were together and out for dinner.  You might think that this occurs on a regular basis but you would be incorrect.

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Tapas is a derivative of Spanish word “tapar”, to cover.  In Spain a thin slice of meat was once offered to drape over a glass of wine, to keep the fruit flies out.  The custom became so popular that little dishes of delectable food offerings became the norm.  “Tapastry” is a perfect moniker for the restaurant’s tapas style dining gives one the opportunity to try a variety of little tastes.  I’m never squeamish about sharing food from a common plate and certainly not when I’m sharing with my two best friends who so happen to be my sisters.

Tapastry at the Niakwa Golf Club has a beautiful view of the rolling green hills of the course.  This evening was fair and there were golfers out on the comfy couches on the deck around a fire pit.  Ah, summer in Winnipeg.

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First up was an Italian Thin-Crust Pizza adorned with prosciutto, fig jam, goat cheese, balsamic vinaigrette and pea shoots.  Being a fan of sweet and salty combinations, I loved it. 

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With the pizza came Smoked Bacon Wrapped Prawns. 

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Tyrolean Bacon blanketed the prawns which were enhanced with a roasted tomato agro dolce and lemon garlic aioli.    

Now here’s another way that the food blogger messed up.  I have lost my notes that I took on that evening and I was hoping that their menu would be on line so that I could remind myself of the detailed ingredients.  This lovely dinner actually took plac at the very beginning of the summer and my old memory isn’t what it used to be.  I’ll do my best…..

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These pan-seared scallops had been perched atop of a variety of mushrooms, roasted corn and pork belly.  They were finished with a scallion pesto and marsala glaze.

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The delectable perogies came with a luscious pumpkin puree.  They were a definite highlight.

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This is when I am being absolutely transparent-I have no idea what these were.  I can only recall that by this time I was very full and feeling as if we had ordered too many items.

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I do know that our service was professional, polite and prompt and that our server poured us and the rest of the diners on that evening , a lovely desert wine to thank us for our patronage.

Tapastry on Urbanspoon

Kath’s quote: “Ponder well on this point: the pleasant hours of our life are all connected by a more or less tangible link, with some memory of the table.”-Charles Pierre Monselet

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Love-that is all.

 

Summer in the City

August8

My TO Brother-in-law graciously indicated that I could stay with them for a weekend last month with the proviso that they would be busy getting ready for a barbecue dinner party that evening.  I volunteered to help out and from the moment that I walked in their door, I was assigned my tasks.  I was so flattered that they respected my skills enough to have me pitch in.  They are both exceptional cooks and their dinner parties are notorious (at the very least, within their own circle of friends).

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We had everything laid out and ready to go by the time a couple of people that were hired to help out arrived.

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Included in the staff were these handsome bartenders, which was such a great idea.  With these gentlemen and another at the barbeque, they were able to relax and enjoy being with their guests.

This was their menu:

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Grilled Beef Tenderloin

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Grilled Pork Tenderloin

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Grilled Teriyaki Salmon

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Grilled Shrimp

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Kale and Asian Pear Salad and Quinoa Salad.  I have the recipes-if you want either (both exceptional), just send me a comment.

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Mushrooms Braised in Red Wine

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Grilled Asparagus, Peppers, Red Onions

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Fruit and Cheese

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Not much to look at but I contributed this sour cream, rhubarb and raspberry pie that I had purchased at the Farmer’s Market in Peterborough that very morning.  Holy, moly was it delicious!

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Neil had baked for a week and his Macadamia Nut Squares, pictured in the middle were to die for!  They were so amazing that I wrapped one up and took it in my carry on luggage home to D.

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The night was fair and the company was intriguing.  The conversation and imbibing went for a number of hours.  Summer in the city-at its finest.

Kath’s quote: “Summer cooking implies a sense of immediacy, a capacity to capture the essence of the fleeting moment.”-Elizabeth David

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Love-that is all.

 

 

 

 

 

Head over heel -Seduced by Southern Italy by Chris Harrison

August6

Perhaps like you, I read non-fiction about residing in Europe and traveling there, to live vicariously through the lives of the authors and to anticipate sojourns that I may (or may not) ever get the chance to take.  Rarely do I come across a story about a little known destination that I have visited and loved tremendously, but this is one.  Here is an excerpt in writer Chris  Harrison’s words, illustrated by my photographs of an area in Sicily.

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Guidaloca was shaped like a slice of melon and its water looked just as refreshing.  After dumping towels on the beach, Daniela and Francesco ran for the blue water

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while I scaled the headland on my way to a World War II watchtower.  Built from the stone of the headland, it was perfectly camouflaged, the attraction, no doubt, for the teenage lovers I surprised inside.  Despite their vantage point they had failed to see me coming. It’s little wonder the allied invasion of Sicily was a cakewalk.  …

Kindle Page 80 of 320

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Daniela and I swam in the caves while Francesco trapped crabs, ripped them apart and ate them raw.  Both in Sicily and in Puglia I enjoyed paddling in the placid sea, but have to admit I found unruffled water rather dull after a time.  Having grown up surfing the Bondy breakers, I associate going to the beach with wipe-outs rather than relaxation.  In Australia I took a surfboard.  In Italy I took a book.

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As in Andrano, the second half of the day began around five, when Daniela assumed the role of tour guide and whisked me off to places of interest near Alcamo.

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First up was the ancient city of Erice.  Perched on a mountaintop overlooking the sea, according to legend it was founded over 3000 years ago by the son of Venus and Neptune.

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I should have photographed the town’s eighth-century walls,

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the twelfth-century castle

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the twelfth-century castle and the cobblestone lanes so narrow they must be walked single-file.  But I didn’t.  I had intended to.  I had even bought a guidebook.

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But next to the bookstore I found a pasticceria which sold fruit made from marzipan, a sugary Sicilian specialty.  So I sat on a bench scoffing miniature bananas, an orange, a mandarin and a peach, while watching the sun set on the seaport of Trapini over 700 meters below.

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Next stop was the ancient treasures of Segesta.  Erected in 420 BC, the 36-column Doric temple was billed in my guidebook as “the best preserved Greek architecture site to be found anywhere”. Quite a claim, but one archeologists dispute less than whether or not the Greeks intended to put a roof on the building.

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Another topless attraction was Segesta’s amphitheatre, a primitive arena carved from a rock atop Mount Barbarian,

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venue for summer performances of Greek tragedies other than the Olympic Games.

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Other excursions took in the monument to Garibaldi at Calatafimi, which commemorates a famous victory of his Red Shirts over the Bourbons, an as much of Palermo as the heat and our resultant late starts would allow.  We would return to the hill at sundown, to be greeted on the driveway by the scents of dinner, which I must confess, enticed me more than the treats in my guidebook.

Every evening Valeria laid a table in her garden for twenty, to which neighbours would bring food for forty.  A typical feats began with Zia Tina’s antipasti, which include prosciutto with sugar melon, pizza slices, burschette, fried eggplant, zucchini and peppers in olive oil. That alone would have done me.  But Luisa’s primo piatto as net, a daring but delicious mix of baked potato and mussels.  Then Nona Lina’s horsemeat pieces in tomato sauce.  ‘Eat quickly,’ said Antonio.  ‘It was a racehorse.’  The meat was springy, yet surprisingly tasty although I couldn’t heal thinking that I may have been eating something more intelligent than me.  Valeria usually prepared the terzo piatto: kebabs of liver and other animal sundries the origin of which I preferred not to ask.  Fruit followed for those whose arms could still reach further than their stomachs: watermelon, apricots, peaches and figs.  And then came the coup de grace, an onslaught of calories called cannoli siciliani-a sweet comprised of flour, sugar, chocolate and white wine, fried into a wafer in the shaped of a hollow bow tie filled with ricotta cheese and chocolate.  Stuffed, both dinner and desert.

Reading Chris Harrison’s account of this and his time in Puglia brought the agony and ecstasy of Italian ways to life, love it or leave it.  I would like to get a chance to love it please.

Kath’s quote: “They eat the dainty food of famous chefs with the same pleasure with which they devour gross peasant dishes, mostly composed of garlic and tomatoes, or fisherman’s octopus and shrimps, fried in heavily scented olive oil on a little deserted beach.” –Luigi Barzini, ‘The Italians’ (1964)

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Stones collected on Guidaloca.

Love-that is all.

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