On my last evening of a recent trip to Montreal, my niece and I decided to head out for a late dinner.  We really didn’t have a place in mind so jumped on a subway to St. Denis Street to see what struck our fancy.  We happened upon Juliette & Chocolate, at which point Bekah said she had wanted to try it and I realized that I had seen one of their salads on a friend’s Facebook page and I too had it on my “must try” list.

I had the namesake Juliette & Chocolate salad which was an interesting combination of flavours.  Mixed greens with strawberries, pear, goat cheese and a balsamic and chocolate salad dressing, it was topped with a crouton like object made by swirling buckwheat crepe batter in a hot pan.  I was pleased to find that it was not overly sweet but instead the dark chocolate notes and the vinegar was a nice combination with the crunch fruit and the creamy chevre.

Bekah selected the buckwheat crepe topped with pesto, walnuts and goat cheese. We were both satisfied with our choices.

“All I really need is love, but a little chocolate now and then doesn’t hurt” Lucy of Peanuts – Charles M. Schulz

Love-that is all.

Here is an excerpt from my recent summer read:

“A beautiful woman, much younger than his mother, was working at the table.  She wore a long jumper of gray-striped wool with a white apron tucked around it.  Her black hair was wrapped tightly into a chignon and tucked under a black kerchief.  Her dark brown eyes squinted as she rolled a long skein of pasta on a smooth marble work slab.  She hummed a tune a she took a small knife and whittled away tiny stars of dough, unaware that Ciro was watching her.  Her long fingers moved surely and deftly with the knife.  Soon, a batch of tiny pasta beads began to pile up on the board.  Ciro decided that all women are beautiful, except maybe old ones like Sister Domenica.  “Colallini?”. Ciro asked.

The young woman looked her and smiled at the little boy in the big clothes.  “Stelline,” she corrected him, holding up a small piece of dough carved into the shape of a star.  She scooped up a pile of the little stars and threw them into a big bowl.

“What are you making?”

“Baked custard.”

“It smells like cake in the hallway.”

That’s the butter and the nutmeg.  The custard is better than cake.  It’s so delicious that it pulls angels off of their perches.  At least that is what I tell the other sisters.  Did it make you hungry?”

“I was already hungry.”

So begins the time that little Ciro is raised in a convent in the Italian Alps.  The story takes him to New York and northern Minnesota, both places that I know and love.  Adriana weaves a beautiful tale based on her own families’ lineage and Italian heritage.  Therefore, it is no wonder that food is a running theme in this story.

Adriana must come from a family of cooks as she also has co-authored a nonfiction book entitled “Cooking with My Sisters”, which I have added to my “must read” list.

Kath’s quote: “Custard:  A detestable substance produced by a malevolent conspiracy of the hen, the cow, and the cook.”-Ambrose Bierce

Love-that is all.

I am on my summer vacation.  We are at our beach house and there are various configuration of family that come and go to the 4 cottages that we enjoy here.  The fact that my extended family is here too, means that there are often extra people at our table, sometimes invited and other times a meal just appears on the table on the deck, where some have accumulated to recount the latest fishing trip or time at the beach.

Life is different here-intentionally so. Now that the analog signal expired, we cannot catch the National!  I was kind of liking this. But this summer everything changed.  I was entitled to a remote access upgrade from my internet rocket stick and for less money, we acquired a wi fi hotspot at the cabin. One morning, as I tidied, there were  4 laptops, 1 mac tablet and three i phones recharging.  Nothing is constant except change, they say.

Thankfully, there are some traditions that are still accomplished in a slower manner.  This week I saw a corn sign on the highway and so we swung in to make our purchase.  When the gentleman who was working on a project in his home came out, I asked him if he had had a chance to pick any corn that day.  He said no-he picks to order.  So he hopped on his little tractor and 4 minutes later, we were driving away with 2 dozen freshly picked ears!  We ate a platter full that night for dinner.  It was so firm and sweet that butter was not required.  I had mine with a squeeze of lime and some freshly ground sea salt-oh yum…

Today will be spent walking the dogs in the forest, riding my ancient bike to the beach or reading in the hammock-perhaps a little of everything.  Life is good.

Kath’s quote:  “For the millions of us who live glued to computer keyboards at work and TV monitors at home, food may be more than entertainment. It may be the only sensual experience left.”-Barbara Ehrenreich

Love-that is all.

I was first introduced to Steve’s Bistro by reputation.  A good friend raved about his lunches and special dinner parties.  When I arrived at the location on west Portage Ave., I was surprised to find that it was at the end of the street where we lived when we were first married.  The current manifestation is barely recognizable from its original state ,as Steve’s Place has morphed from a burger stop to a cozy neighbourhood bistro that is beautifully appointed.

I had met Steve on a previous visit.  He is welcoming and gregarious and passionate about the food that he offers his guest.  I did not see him on this day, as we arrived considerably later than the bulk of the lunch crowd.  But the food was just as good as on previous occasions, even without his presence.

My lunch date was a long time friend who I had just fetched from the airport.  We both chose specials and hers was the Shrimp Caesar Salad.  She asked our server about the garlic level and was told that it was not overly garlicky. She remarked that it was absolutely delicious, but garlicky it was as well.  Even after chewing gum, she had to apologize when we were greeted by another friend.

I was tempted by the lemon and Dijon chicken special.  The little strips of chicken appeared as if they were trimmed off larger breasts.  This practice is not only a prudent manner to run your kitchen but offers the guest the most succulent offerings from the bird.  They had been drenched in a hearty and grainy mustard and were beautifully complemented by the rice pilaf AND pita points.  I find this practice of serving two carbs (but no veggies) is typical of Greek cuisine.  I was not complaining because both sides were to my liking, but by the time my evening supper came along, I was craving something green.

I mentioned that I was dining with an old friend.  We met in university and have remained connected through many of life’s joys and heartaches.  We had traveled to Greece together decades previously and had some memorable tales of Greece’s national drink –ouzo.  The special cocktail on this day was an unusual concoction of ouzo and lemonade.  The taste took us back to our younger and carefree days and we knew that we had come to the right place.

Kath’s quote: “There are many miracles in the world to be celebrated and, for me, garlic is the most deserving.”
Felice Leonardo (Leo) Buscaglia

Love-that is all.

If you ever had to opportunity to visit Quebec City I would highly recommend a quick trip over to Île d’Orléans.  This picturesque island is made up of six communities and loads of farms, shops, churches and museums.  Known as the “Garden of Quebec” the island is a great place to purchase seasonal fruit and vegetables, the strawberries where ready when I was visiting, as well as awesome and maple and apple products.

We stopped at Cidrerie Verger Bilodeau, an apple orchard in St. Pierre where the hostess provided endless samples of apple liquors, dressings and spreads. I purchased apple dessert wine and some apple butter which I enjoyed with brie and baguette once I arrived in Montreal to visit my nieces.

Next was Les Fromages de l’isle d’Orléans in Ste-Famille, home of the first ever cheese made in the Americas. Le Paillasson cheese is first recorded to have been made in 1635 and is a firm cheese that you fry in a pan of butter, similar to the way the Greeks prepare Halloumi.

Our second stop in Ste-Famille, was at ferme au gout d’ autrefois, purveyors of duck and goose products.  My hostess, Chantal picked up a jar of goose thigh cooked in salt and goose fat.

Our final destination was Chocolaterie de l’île d’Orléans in Sainte-Pétronille to pick up a treat of Belgian style chocolate for the drive home.

The next morning we feasted on our lovely purchases as part of our breakfast.

Kath’s quote: “How can you govern a country which has 246 varieties of cheese?” –Charles de Gaulle