Here are a few images from that evening:
Oh Summer...
Here are a few images from that evening:
Here are a few images from that evening:
Not Your Momma's Take-Out Menu
Recently, Dana Harrison (an uber talented designer and all 'round swell gal) and I collaborated on a take-out menu for Frida Restaurant. Our challenge was to create a menu that stood out from the piles of typical take-out menus that we so often find taking up space in our mailboxes. We needed to create something simple and eye-catching that would instantly have you running for the phone.
I asked Dana about her inspiration for this project, and how she pulled all the elements together. This is what she had to say:
Creatively, the biggest challenge I faced with this job was shooting a take-out menu for a fine-dining restaurant, without making it feel like an entirely different place. The most important elements we used to tie the two faces of Frida together, were colour and plating. We started with colour, which, for me, is essential in setting a tone and conveying mood through photography. We paired Frida's existing colour palette of vibrant oranges and punchy blues with a casual wood surface and mismatched dishware, creating images that felt warm, friendly and inviting without straying too far from the restaurant's fine-dining roots. Most importantly, we wanted the food plated in a more rustic manner but didn't want to lose Chef Jose's artful touch.
As with most of my photography, I'm always itching to tell a story, no matter how simple it may be. I wanted these photographs to draw people in and make them feel like they could pull up a chair and be a part of the meal. For me, when food tells a story, it instantly becomes more inviting and more appetizing. The more inviting a photograph can be, the more people will want to be a part of what you have created. In this case... the more people that want to pull up a chair to these tables, the more take-out orders for Frida, right?
When I asked Dana what her favorite part of the project was she simply said "drawing the sketch of Frida for the cover...and eating the food at the shoot."
Thanks to Steve and Jose for trusting in our vision of your food and for letting us tell your take-out story.
I asked Dana about her inspiration for this project, and how she pulled all the elements together. This is what she had to say:
"My inspiration for the menu came from Frida Kahlo's life and work. I decided to take the opportunity to watch the movie Frida (2002) again and found that the art, animation and colour in the film were amazing. The colourful culture and food of Mexico that Chef Jose and Steve have brought into Frida Restaurant, as well as one of the plates we sourced for the photography (shown in the guacamole shot) were also places I drew my inspiration from. Reena and I worked closely to style the images so that they would showcase the family-style nature of the items on the menu. I love Reena's 'deconstructed' way of styling food and wanted to feature one of these on the cover of the menu. The 'before and after' taco shot just makes you feel like running in and grabbing that last one before someone else does! The way she lights everything to create a really intimate, comforting, homey feel inspired the idea to shoot everything from above. That way the images would have the feeling of being laid out on a table, passed around and enjoyed. We wanted to create a menu that really communicated that this is restaurant quality food made with fresh ingredients, the same as you'd enjoy during a night out at Frida Restaurant."
Creatively, the biggest challenge I faced with this job was shooting a take-out menu for a fine-dining restaurant, without making it feel like an entirely different place. The most important elements we used to tie the two faces of Frida together, were colour and plating. We started with colour, which, for me, is essential in setting a tone and conveying mood through photography. We paired Frida's existing colour palette of vibrant oranges and punchy blues with a casual wood surface and mismatched dishware, creating images that felt warm, friendly and inviting without straying too far from the restaurant's fine-dining roots. Most importantly, we wanted the food plated in a more rustic manner but didn't want to lose Chef Jose's artful touch.
As with most of my photography, I'm always itching to tell a story, no matter how simple it may be. I wanted these photographs to draw people in and make them feel like they could pull up a chair and be a part of the meal. For me, when food tells a story, it instantly becomes more inviting and more appetizing. The more inviting a photograph can be, the more people will want to be a part of what you have created. In this case... the more people that want to pull up a chair to these tables, the more take-out orders for Frida, right?
When I asked Dana what her favorite part of the project was she simply said "drawing the sketch of Frida for the cover...and eating the food at the shoot."
Thanks to Steve and Jose for trusting in our vision of your food and for letting us tell your take-out story.
An Epiphany in Burgers
It's moment's away from the weekend and I'm sure many of you are already psyching yourselves up for the drive to cottage country along good ol' highway 11. Well friends, that drive just got a little juicer and a little more burger-y.
As a child, Webers was always a sign that we were finally getting close to the lake. Webers Burgers is a staple and a tradition for the zillions of cottage goers that flock to the water every summer. With constant lineups, 50-100 people deep, I've never quite understood the draw. Admittedly a bit of a burger snob (but not in a foie gras kind of way.. just a home-made with love kind of way), I've never really understood the appeal of flavorless pre-frozen tasting patties.
Well my friends, I present to you my latest discovery: Burger Pit! Zac and I have been driving past this place for years. Every time we zoom past, we talk about stopping in for a burger. The giant mom-and-pop-vintage-American-style-burger-shoppe-sign advertising charbroiled burgers has been beckoning us to pull over. How come we never stopped before? The Burger Pit is just down the road from the cottage institution, Webers. Chalk it up to crowd-mentality, but we just figured that Webers was better. And sadly, Webers isn't really all that good. Last weekend, we decided to break free from the flock and let that awesome sign lead us. This was not a mistake. The Burger Pit serves up simple, juicy, homemade, perfectly charred patties. My drive to the cottage had been forever changed. Now instead of yelling out WEEEEEEBERS as we hit the three quarter mark to the cottage, I'll be yelling our BUUUUUUURGER PIIIIIIIIT!
As a child, Webers was always a sign that we were finally getting close to the lake. Webers Burgers is a staple and a tradition for the zillions of cottage goers that flock to the water every summer. With constant lineups, 50-100 people deep, I've never quite understood the draw. Admittedly a bit of a burger snob (but not in a foie gras kind of way.. just a home-made with love kind of way), I've never really understood the appeal of flavorless pre-frozen tasting patties.
Well my friends, I present to you my latest discovery: Burger Pit! Zac and I have been driving past this place for years. Every time we zoom past, we talk about stopping in for a burger. The giant mom-and-pop-vintage-American-style-burger-shoppe-sign advertising charbroiled burgers has been beckoning us to pull over. How come we never stopped before? The Burger Pit is just down the road from the cottage institution, Webers. Chalk it up to crowd-mentality, but we just figured that Webers was better. And sadly, Webers isn't really all that good. Last weekend, we decided to break free from the flock and let that awesome sign lead us. This was not a mistake. The Burger Pit serves up simple, juicy, homemade, perfectly charred patties. My drive to the cottage had been forever changed. Now instead of yelling out WEEEEEEBERS as we hit the three quarter mark to the cottage, I'll be yelling our BUUUUUUURGER PIIIIIIIIT!
The address is listed as 5 Booth Street, but it's right on Highway 11 between Oro-Medonte Line 10 and Line 11, just south of Orillia. Trust me, it's good. Go to there.
Charcutepalooza Challenge #6
Once again, this month's challenge was down to the wire, but James and I refused to be defeated by our busy schedules. We scrambled to make our Hot Dogs the day before the posting date and here's a quick roundup on how we felt about the challenge this month:
James: H-dogs 2.0. After our epic fail last time (when we weren't suppose to make hotdogs anyway) I was more than a bit nervous that this would all turn pear-shaped for a second time. It didn't! We made delicious, hotdog-tasting hotdogs. The thing about hotdogs is, well, they're just hotdogs. The best hotdog I've ever had? Nearly. Was it worth it? Absolutely not. While I do appreciate the process of making an emulsified sausage, the attention required to make it work and the premium ingredients - I don't think it's worth all the time and cost required to create a gourmet dog. Sure ours were juicier, more tender, had better flavour and weren't the least bit rubbery. Sure they rank right up there with the best. But c'mon, they're just f*cking hotdogs! The lesson is this: While it's nice to use costly beef ribs to make hotdogs, it's not worth it. The reason: With simple slow, low smoke you can turn a rack of beef ribs into something divine instead of a glorified kid's birthday party treat. I'd give ours an 8 out of 10. But what's a 10 out of 10 hotdog really worth? A 6 out of 10 rack of ribs? C'est la vie.
R: Oh, while we were rushing to get everything done, we did somehow manage to squeek in dessert. Giant soft pretzels, that turned out to be the perfect accompaniment to our hotdogs. The recipe we used called for pretzel salt, but we thought this treat would be far superior if we doused the pretzels in salted butter and cinnamon-sugar, and boy were we right! I highly recommend giving these a try! For the recipe, click here.
Some Damn Good BBQ & A Charcutepalooza Retraction
Last night, James invited Zac and I to be part of an elite rib-taste-testing-squad. Our delicious assignment was to help determine which ribs would be entered in Woodbine Park's BBQ competition this coming weekend. Of course, I can't divulge any of James' secrets but I can tell you that his ribs are killer! I'm sure he'll tell all once the competition is in the bag, so check out his blog to read all about it after the weekend.
Since the grill was already fired up, we figured why not throw on some of our fresh sausages. Now we would be able to experience them as originally intended. Zac dubbed this creation the "club sausage." Turkey and bacon with cranberry-walnut relish all conveniently stuffed in a sausage and served on a bun cut into three sections.
In my last post, I talked about how the sausages were a bit on the salty side and the bacon had overpowered the turkey. Well, here's where the Charcutepalooza retraction comes in: I TAKE IT BACK!! These sausages were not at all overly salty, in fact they had the perfect balance of salt and sweet. The general consensus was that they tasted like thanksgiving dinner all rolled up into one bite. You could distinctly taste each of the ingredients that went into these lovely little delights.
I'd say that the lesson learned here is to let sausage mellow overnight so all the ingredients can become friends and learn to get along in a wonderfully balanced and harmoniously tasty way.
I guess the big question now is: what other full meals can we stuff into a single sausage??
Since the grill was already fired up, we figured why not throw on some of our fresh sausages. Now we would be able to experience them as originally intended. Zac dubbed this creation the "club sausage." Turkey and bacon with cranberry-walnut relish all conveniently stuffed in a sausage and served on a bun cut into three sections.
In my last post, I talked about how the sausages were a bit on the salty side and the bacon had overpowered the turkey. Well, here's where the Charcutepalooza retraction comes in: I TAKE IT BACK!! These sausages were not at all overly salty, in fact they had the perfect balance of salt and sweet. The general consensus was that they tasted like thanksgiving dinner all rolled up into one bite. You could distinctly taste each of the ingredients that went into these lovely little delights.
I'd say that the lesson learned here is to let sausage mellow overnight so all the ingredients can become friends and learn to get along in a wonderfully balanced and harmoniously tasty way.
I guess the big question now is: what other full meals can we stuff into a single sausage??
Charcutepalooza Challenge #5
This months challenge was "stuffing" and stuff-it we did - into our super busy schedules... heh.. This month's sausage-making came dangerously close to unraveling. James and I have been trying to co-ordinate our schedules for weeks now, and yesterday, being the last day before the posting deadline, was looking grim. It seemed like we were going to have to call this month off. Luckily, I have a husband who has been dying to get his hands on the sausage stuffer. He announced to me yesterday morning that he would take over for James and help me get this month's challenge completed. He even took the work out of deciding what kind of sausage to make. He chose turkey, bacon, cranberry, walnut sausage. After an announcement like that, how could I possibly skip this creation? So this month Zac and I tackled the challenge together, while James missed out on all the fun (but don't worry, we saved him some sausage).
This is probably going to come as quite a shock to some of you, but I am terrified of cooking. I LOVE to eat and could spend all day in the kitchen but I don't really like to cook, especially without someone there to guide me. I have a bit of a history of ruining just about anything I attempt to cook. Without fail, I seem to screw it up somehow. I'm a baker, I revel in precision and measurement and rules. I don't really have a very good grasp on 'doing what I feel the food wants' and 'letting the ingredients speak to me' which is probably why Charcuterie appeals to me so much. It's a rather scientific way of preparing food.
Over the last few challenges, I've sort of just deferred to James in the cooking department. I've followed his direction to ensure that I couldn't possibly screw up our meat making. This month, it was my turn to take the lead. Making sausage had seemed easy but I was convinced it only felt that way because James was there to keep me from destroying dinner. Oh well, I was really in it now. The only thing left to do was crack open the bible (Michael Rhulman's Charcuterie) and dive right in.
I found a recipe for turkey and cherry sausage that seemed like a good jumping off point for the sausage that Zac had envisioned. For the most part the directions for making sausage read pretty much like any recipe for baked goods. Of course instead of flour and sugar using meat and fat. Sausage needs to have a specific fat to meat ratio. Our recipe didn't have bacon in it and since bacon is pretty much equal parts fat and meat we decided to consider it 50/50 and adjusted the turkey and back fat accordingly. Once I had the meat to fat ratio figured out, I scaled out all my seasonings just as the recipe called for, substituted cranberries for cherries and added walnuts. All the while mindful of sticking to Rhulman's ratios. I had the meat diced and seasoned and sitting in the freezer ready to go when Zac got home.
By the time Zac finished work and we had ground the meat, it was well past dinner time and we were both starving. We just couldn't muster up the energy needed to actually prepare a meal and knew we couldn't wait for the sausage to be ready, so we sat down to a quick dinner of cereal before we began to stuff our sausages. Fast forward past our embarrassingly sad Charcutepalooza dinner to a lovely coil of sausage sitting on our kitchen counter. The marbling was pronounced and the casings had filled uniformly. We had crossed the finish line. We quickly cooked up one of our little links as a late-night snack. Here's where I re-learned a valuable lesson that I had apparently forgotten: Bacon is salty. While our sausages turned out nearly perfect, they were a bit on the salty side and had a more distinct bacon taste than we had expected. The turkey had been overpowered, but the cranberries gave the sausages a nice sweetness. If I were to attempt putting bacon into sausage again, I would reduce the amount of bacon and leave the salt out until after I had mixed the meat and tasted it, before stuffing the casings. Other than that, I would do everything else the same.
All in all this challenge was a success. While this sausage may be a bit overpowering on it's own, we're thinking it will make a killer addition to a simple pasta with fresh tomato sauce - hold the salt.
This is probably going to come as quite a shock to some of you, but I am terrified of cooking. I LOVE to eat and could spend all day in the kitchen but I don't really like to cook, especially without someone there to guide me. I have a bit of a history of ruining just about anything I attempt to cook. Without fail, I seem to screw it up somehow. I'm a baker, I revel in precision and measurement and rules. I don't really have a very good grasp on 'doing what I feel the food wants' and 'letting the ingredients speak to me' which is probably why Charcuterie appeals to me so much. It's a rather scientific way of preparing food.
Over the last few challenges, I've sort of just deferred to James in the cooking department. I've followed his direction to ensure that I couldn't possibly screw up our meat making. This month, it was my turn to take the lead. Making sausage had seemed easy but I was convinced it only felt that way because James was there to keep me from destroying dinner. Oh well, I was really in it now. The only thing left to do was crack open the bible (Michael Rhulman's Charcuterie) and dive right in.
I found a recipe for turkey and cherry sausage that seemed like a good jumping off point for the sausage that Zac had envisioned. For the most part the directions for making sausage read pretty much like any recipe for baked goods. Of course instead of flour and sugar using meat and fat. Sausage needs to have a specific fat to meat ratio. Our recipe didn't have bacon in it and since bacon is pretty much equal parts fat and meat we decided to consider it 50/50 and adjusted the turkey and back fat accordingly. Once I had the meat to fat ratio figured out, I scaled out all my seasonings just as the recipe called for, substituted cranberries for cherries and added walnuts. All the while mindful of sticking to Rhulman's ratios. I had the meat diced and seasoned and sitting in the freezer ready to go when Zac got home.
By the time Zac finished work and we had ground the meat, it was well past dinner time and we were both starving. We just couldn't muster up the energy needed to actually prepare a meal and knew we couldn't wait for the sausage to be ready, so we sat down to a quick dinner of cereal before we began to stuff our sausages. Fast forward past our embarrassingly sad Charcutepalooza dinner to a lovely coil of sausage sitting on our kitchen counter. The marbling was pronounced and the casings had filled uniformly. We had crossed the finish line. We quickly cooked up one of our little links as a late-night snack. Here's where I re-learned a valuable lesson that I had apparently forgotten: Bacon is salty. While our sausages turned out nearly perfect, they were a bit on the salty side and had a more distinct bacon taste than we had expected. The turkey had been overpowered, but the cranberries gave the sausages a nice sweetness. If I were to attempt putting bacon into sausage again, I would reduce the amount of bacon and leave the salt out until after I had mixed the meat and tasted it, before stuffing the casings. Other than that, I would do everything else the same.
All in all this challenge was a success. While this sausage may be a bit overpowering on it's own, we're thinking it will make a killer addition to a simple pasta with fresh tomato sauce - hold the salt.
The Little Promo That Could
As I mentioned in my last post, I'm rather blown away by the level of response I've been getting from my promo. Just as I was beginning to feel like the chatter was tapering off, both the Applied Arts Blog and PDN Online wrote a little something about my bacon-y package this week. I'm pretty stoked, so I thought I'd share.
For the Applied Arts Article go here.
Click here to read what Heather Morton has to say in her PDN interview for the "Promos I Kept" column.
P.S. Thanks Heather for choosing my promo to talk about... again!
Since I couldn't dream of posting without sharing some images with you, here are three snappys to get you through the day:
For the Applied Arts Article go here.
Click here to read what Heather Morton has to say in her PDN interview for the "Promos I Kept" column.
P.S. Thanks Heather for choosing my promo to talk about... again!
Since I couldn't dream of posting without sharing some images with you, here are three snappys to get you through the day:
Behind the scenes from Charcutepalooza
In and Out Burger in LA - ohhh yum!
Seriously THE BEST dessert on the planet! I'm salivating just remembering it. No joke.
Butterscotch Pot de Crème with Salted Caramel & Crème Fraiche from Gjelina in LA. Go There.
Sharing the Bacon-y Love
I've been holding onto this for some time now and trust me it hasn't been easy. It's a little project I've been dying to share: The promotional piece that would formally introduce me as a "brand" to the world.... Or at least a selected group of Art Directors, Ad Peeps and Magazine Folks.
Over the past few years I've attempted to make my "debut" as a photographer but have put it on hold for numerous reasons. When I left Westside Studio, where I had worked as a producer, the timing was perfect and everything began to fall into place. I suddenly had time on my hands and was compelled to fill every second with my eye to a lens. I spent a year shooting and putting together a portfolio that I could be proud of. I wasn't going to come out without a bang. I needed to create an image that was distinctly me and would showcase my personality before you even knew who "me" was.
When I first found out that my friend James (who you may know as my partner in crime for Charcutepalooza) makes his own bacon, I immediately thought: Make your own bacon??! You can do that? What does that even mean? I had to shoot James in action. Soon after we had booked a shoot date, I came across a recipe for bacon caramels.. yup you read that right. That folks, was the pig-in-the-blanket that began the creative process of designing and executing what I was pretty sure would be a unique promo that would hopefully garner some attention.
Here's how it all came together:
With all the debate going on these days about paper promos (which I won't get into...cuz that's a whole other post in itself) I was hesitant to even put this project together, but it really wasn't the kind of thing that I could e-mail around. Right off the bat, I decided to go small. There were too many images to use on a postcard so a book seemed like the right solution. Sending out a book of images still didn't seem exciting enough to me. I wanted the recipient to have the full experience of the story. I decided that I would make and hand wrap candies to go with each promo (I sent two with bacon and two sans-bacon, for any non-adventurous eaters/vegetarians/non-bacon eaters out there). The next question was how to package the pieces in a fun way. Candy boxes. Through some stroke of pure luck and a lot of leg work I managed to find candy boxes complete with inserts that held four candies and were the exact same size as the books I wanted to send (so you have an idea of scale, the packages are 3.5"x 3.5"). Now I had a box containing four candies with my book neatly tucked inside. How did I wrap and address the packages? Butchers paper with a meat label to bring the entire project full circle.
You can see the story on my website by clicking on the I Heart Bacon gallery.
And if you're so inclined, you too can make bacon caramel.
I have to send some special thanks out into the world to the folks that helped me out of the goodness of their hearts:
Aleks Wallner, an incredibly talented artist who drew the little piggy for the cover of my book.
Dana Harrison, a graphic design guru and all around lovely lady, who designed my logos.
And not to be forgotten, James Kennedy, for letting me invade his kitchen and stick my lens in his face. Oh and for the bacon.
The overall response to this little promo of mine has been rather overwhelming. I went into it assuming that I wouldn't hear a peep. In the first couple of days, I received emails from people thanking me for the afternoon snack, a handful of requests for meetings, an Art Director who Tweeted about the promo, a shout out from Heather Morton (yay!), aaaaannnd a job!
Perhaps the moral of this story is: People like bacon and if you send it, they will call.
Over the past few years I've attempted to make my "debut" as a photographer but have put it on hold for numerous reasons. When I left Westside Studio, where I had worked as a producer, the timing was perfect and everything began to fall into place. I suddenly had time on my hands and was compelled to fill every second with my eye to a lens. I spent a year shooting and putting together a portfolio that I could be proud of. I wasn't going to come out without a bang. I needed to create an image that was distinctly me and would showcase my personality before you even knew who "me" was.
When I first found out that my friend James (who you may know as my partner in crime for Charcutepalooza) makes his own bacon, I immediately thought: Make your own bacon??! You can do that? What does that even mean? I had to shoot James in action. Soon after we had booked a shoot date, I came across a recipe for bacon caramels.. yup you read that right. That folks, was the pig-in-the-blanket that began the creative process of designing and executing what I was pretty sure would be a unique promo that would hopefully garner some attention.
Here's how it all came together:
With all the debate going on these days about paper promos (which I won't get into...cuz that's a whole other post in itself) I was hesitant to even put this project together, but it really wasn't the kind of thing that I could e-mail around. Right off the bat, I decided to go small. There were too many images to use on a postcard so a book seemed like the right solution. Sending out a book of images still didn't seem exciting enough to me. I wanted the recipient to have the full experience of the story. I decided that I would make and hand wrap candies to go with each promo (I sent two with bacon and two sans-bacon, for any non-adventurous eaters/vegetarians/non-bacon eaters out there). The next question was how to package the pieces in a fun way. Candy boxes. Through some stroke of pure luck and a lot of leg work I managed to find candy boxes complete with inserts that held four candies and were the exact same size as the books I wanted to send (so you have an idea of scale, the packages are 3.5"x 3.5"). Now I had a box containing four candies with my book neatly tucked inside. How did I wrap and address the packages? Butchers paper with a meat label to bring the entire project full circle.
You can see the story on my website by clicking on the I Heart Bacon gallery.
And if you're so inclined, you too can make bacon caramel.
I have to send some special thanks out into the world to the folks that helped me out of the goodness of their hearts:
Aleks Wallner, an incredibly talented artist who drew the little piggy for the cover of my book.
Dana Harrison, a graphic design guru and all around lovely lady, who designed my logos.
And not to be forgotten, James Kennedy, for letting me invade his kitchen and stick my lens in his face. Oh and for the bacon.
The overall response to this little promo of mine has been rather overwhelming. I went into it assuming that I wouldn't hear a peep. In the first couple of days, I received emails from people thanking me for the afternoon snack, a handful of requests for meetings, an Art Director who Tweeted about the promo, a shout out from Heather Morton (yay!), aaaaannnd a job!
Perhaps the moral of this story is: People like bacon and if you send it, they will call.
Big Mac Challenge
A couple weeks ago I received a call from Shelbie Vermette, the photo editor at Toronto's newest and most exciting paper, The Grid. As soon as she told me the concept for an upcoming shoot, I was immediately on board. This was going to be FUN! Four of Toronto's chefs were to be given a Big Mac meal which they were asked to transform, without adding any additional ingredients, into a dish fit for their restaurants. As you probably know by now I am no stranger to the hamburger, so being asked to take part in a burger re-imagination project had me pretty excited. Writer Karon Liu and I literally had no idea what to expect when heading out for our shoot. Each time a dish came out of the kitchen, our minds were truly blown. The creativity, thoughtful care and humor that each of the chefs put into their dishes was absolutely inspiring. The chefs were all such great sports that they even let me snap a few quick portraits of them enjoying their creations.
You can read the full story here and can check out the behind the scenes story here.
You can read the full story here and can check out the behind the scenes story here.
Aravind’s Open-Faced Samosas by Chefs Raj and Aravind Kozhikott
Campagnolo’s Big Mac All’Americana by Chefs Craig Harding and Nigel French
Local Kitchen's McLumi Platter by Chef Fabio Bondi
The Drake’s Birthday Surprise by Chef Anthony Rose
Charcutepalooza Challenge #4
James: We might have been cursed from the very beginning, hard to say. But this month's path to Charcuteplaooza was fraught with errors, oversights and utter failures. Shit happens. Sure, we turned it all around and made delicious chorizo sausage links, killer maple candy corn and homemade ketchup but boy it sure wasn't easy this month.
It might be interesting to look at this month's challenge in reverse, so here goes.
We skinned, deboned and ground a fine cut of pork shoulder, spiced it up, grilled up a tester (success) and pumped it into six feet of hog casings. A few of the sausages were 'airy' and burst on the grill but all-in-all I'd say those chorizo, while not quite as good as George's were still pretty great. Topped off with some pickled onions, cilantro and homemade ketchup, our arena dogs were decidedly less Canadian than they were awesome. Oh well, at least the candy corn was made with 100% pure maple syrup!
Our final mistake was not putting that curious little cross-shaped bit in the meat grinder. That curious little bit does the cutting before the cubed meat gets to the die (the part at the end with the holes in it.) Without it you're basically trying to force square meat in round holes, quite literally. Once I found this piece was missing, I returned it to the meat grinder and miraculously it started actually grinding meat!
After dinner last Sunday I decided to start the evidently long process of turning frozen venison into what looked most like sticky baby pablum (I'd yet to replace that cross-shaped bit.) First I cut off all the freezer-burn. This venison came from a deer which had been shot by my father-in-law in November 2009, so it had seen it's fair share of freezer time. Once all the freezer burn was removed, I had a few steaks and a couple of tenderloins. I cut the semi-frozen meat into cubes and fed them into the machine. Without the cutting edge in it was very difficult to get the sinuey venison through the die. I was constantly cleaning out the grinder and what did make it through the small die came out as more a paste than a grind.
I'd forgotten that my father-in-law always marinates his venison in a beer/garlic solution overnight. This turns out to be crucial to getting all the extra blood out of the meat. In a processed, farmed product meat is hung and bled in a controlled setting. When hunted however the procedure is far less exact and bleeding out the animal immediately after death isn't always as quick (or so I understand.) Anyway, I'd unknowingly ground some pretty irony meat.
The first mistake where venison is concerned happened when Reena suggested we use a wild meat as our Canadian twist. Elk, Venison, whatever. Knowing of a good stash of frozen venison harvested in the wilds of Manitoba I thought, perfect! Venison it is. Well, venison makes a lousy hotdog. Actually, it makes a disgusting hotdog. The gamey flavour is intensified ten-fold and the hotdog texture didn't help either.
Hotdogs. So hotdogs were definitely not this months challenge. Taking Reena's word for it, I didn't even check the Charcuteplaooza site this month. Well, not until the venison hotdog failure.
Reena: I take the blame for the broken-telephone decision to make hotdogs. My husband Zac read the actual instructions for this month and suggested to me that a game-y sausage (this month's challenge) was sort of the Canadian equivalent to the American ballpark hotdog. Seeing as how it's NHL playoff time, I thought what better way to celebrate Canadiana and to take it even further than to make Venison hotdogs? And Cracker Jacks!
J: At the end of the day, we met the requirements (just barely) and our chrorizo was really, really good. And the funniest thing? We both agree that we'd rather eat a chorizo sausage anyway!
As a cowboy, name lost to time, once said "When you lose, don't lose the lesson." Next month I promise to check the site myself, double check my equipment and approach the new challenge with this failure in the back of my mind.
Charcutepalooza Challenge #3
This month's Charcutepalooza challenge was hot smoking. We were to either smoke pork loin that would become Canadian Bacon or smoke pork shoulder which would become Tasso Ham. Since James has been smoking meat successfully for years and Michael Ruhlman's spice blends have proven to be perfectly balanced, it seemed that our biggest challenge this month would be coming up with our recipe. Seeing as James and I have promised a little bit of a Canadian flare with each of our challenges, you would think the choice would be clear with Canadian Bacon on the list. Not so.
James: Canadian bacon is only Canadian in the United States. In Canada it's called Peameal Bacon and most often cured and rolled in cornmeal, but not always smoked. The concept for our blog post was proving to be a bit of a conundrum. Tasso is an important ingredient in Jambalaya, a distinctly Louisianan creation but there was little evidence that it has ever made it's way out of the Bayou and into the Canadian culinary canon. In fact, I don't know anyone else who'd ever heard of it. So Tasso Tourtiere, Pâté chinois (Shepard's pie) or Flipper pie were all kind of out.
And were we really going to make another sandwich? Uh, nope.
"When the Acadians were forced to leave Nova Scotia, the local lobsters (very loyal shellfish, indeed) decided to follow their adopted humans to Louisiana. During the arduous marathon swim, the crustaceans lost a lot of weight and most of their size. By the time the lobsters reached the bayous and swamps of southern Louisiana to reunite with their beloved proto-Cajuns, they had transformed into the Acadian's smaller, and now-totemic, crawfish." If the lobster is the forefather of the crawfish, and an undoubtedly Downeast ingredient - well we're bringing it all back home, as Bob Dylan once mumbled.
Bingo! Tasso is in Jambalaya and Lobster could be our Canadian crawfish! One down, one to go. Andouille is a spicy cajun sausage and also an important ingredient in Jambalaya. It is not readily available up here, but all of it's ingredients are. The pork shoulder needed to make Tasso is the very same cut needed to make Andouille. A bit more work but it was certainly worth it. Homemade sausage is easy, delicious and maybe just a bit totally awesome.
R: Seeing as this was my first experience with Cajun cooking, and that James is able to Cajun-ify almost anything with his eyes shut. I quickly fell into the roll of Help-y McHelperson, where I found myself elbow deep in freshly ground meat, feeding the sausage stuffer at a leisurely pace. I'll say this much, while making homemade sausage is not a difficult task, it may potentially have the power to convert any meat eater to a vegetarian. But not us! Finding myself without tonnes to contribute to the preparation of this meal, other than immersing my hands in meat and fighting back tears when it was time to cook our well behaved and photogenic Lobster, who we had affectionately named Jaques, I would tackle dessert.
We decided that I should prepare a Canadian classic. Buttertarts. Growing up, I spent a lot of time in the Muskokas where we basically spent entire summers waterskiing, barbecuing and begging my parents to take us for Buttertarts from Marty's in Bracebridge. Marty's has literally ruined me for all other Buttertarts in the universe. They are the best. Hands down. Flaky, tender, chewy pastry with runny, sticky and sweet insides. A couple of years ago my mom surprised me with a copy of Marty's cookbook and I'm pretty sure that the angels sang when I discovered the recipes for his pastry and filling. But how were we going to give these tarts the Southern flare that they would need to follow our Jambalaya you ask? Pecans. Maple roasted pecans. Oooooh-we!
So, how was the meal? Spicy and smokey with a hint of sweetness each time you discovered a coveted piece of lobster. The Jambalaya was even hot enough to have those of us that hadn't braved James' homemade hot sauce reaching for the Kleenex and wiping away tears. Often, with spice of that magnitude, the flavour can begin to take a back seat. In this case, not so. Each bite was filled with a wonderful and slightly different combination of tastes. The Tasso and the sausage, while at the core were quite similar, brought very distinct yet perfectly married flavours to the table. The buttertarts, that we served with cinnamon ice-cream from Ed's Real Scoop and a snifter of Bourbon were the perfect way to cool our over-heated pallets. All in all, this meal was well worth the effort and Tasso-rific in our books.
After a really fun day in the kitchen and a great meal with friends, it was off to bed with the anticipation of waking up to the lingering smell of that deliciously smokey aroma, that is always left behind in my hair, that would have me re-living our meal the next morning.
Charcutepalooza Challenge #2
Corned Beef? Yes Please! This month's challenge was Brining. If you had told me just a couple of years ago that we could make corned beef, I would have thought you were crazy - that tender, melt-in-your-mouth-put-it-on-rye-with-nothing-but-mustard-and-a-crunchy-Strubs-pickle-on-the-side corned beef of my childhood! I was shocked by how easy it is.
- Buy Brisket. Ours came from NorpacBeef.
- Submerge in brine
- Refrigerate for 7-10 days
- Rinse
- Boil for 3ish hours in fresh brine
- Eat
Our first instinct was to stick to your tried and true corned beef sandwich: something that needn't be improved upon and in our minds was truly the best vehicle for corned beef. If it ain't broke, don't fix it. How do we better the best sandwich? By adding cheese, gravy and fries! How could it be more obvious and Canadian. Corned beef poutine!
We would make stock, which would become our poutine sauce, as well as the squeaky cheese curds which make poutine the wonderfully special dish that it is. We'd rest the whole thing on a bed of homemade fries. Oh yes! We officially had an even more challenging challenge on our hands.
James: After a fair bit of research I found out what 'poutine sauce' is. It's basically a 1/2 reduced velouté. I didn't get around to the research until I'd roasted the meat and made the 12hr. beef stock (from a veal stock recipe). Back to Mr. Rhulman with The Elements of Cooking, which I happen to own, have read and quickly forgot. Jogged by the internet, I went back to my hardcopy for some pointers. He points you to one of Emeril's old recipes on the Food Network site. Beyond the basics, I think the most important bit is "Place the stock pot in the oven and heat it to between 180º and 200ºF… cook for at least 8 hours and up to 12 hours." Genius! Don't boil, gently warm all the flavour out of those tough, cheap chunks of crap.
As for the actual 'poutine sauce', I was sure ol' Martin Picard (The Wild Chef) would have included it in his food-porn fois gras manifesto Au Pied du Cochon: The Album. Nope. This considering it has a recipe for poutine in it! So, where better to get the goods than a website about poutine? There velouté is mentioned, and I remembered that I made it in Culinary I at George Brown. Yes! With the addition of a few more aromatics (thyme, bay), a roux and some salt we had turned a great stock into fine velouté.
I hadn't really anticipated that poutine-making-day would actually be rather torturous. When I arrived at James' place that afternoon, I could literally taste the corned beef that was wafting up the walkway. We had a lot of work ahead of us before we could dig in. Ricotta cheese cake, lemon curd topping, poutine sauce and fries all still needed to be prepared before we could taste our meat... le sigh. We motored through the day, cooking and shooting, shooting and cooking. Finally the time had come when the last, twice fried potato had emerged from the oil a french fry. We were about to discover what all the fuss was about.
J: I don't mind saying that the corned beef we made was the best I'd had, ever. The flavour from the spice blend in Charcuterie is unbelievable. Dear Ginger, thanks for making everything better...again.
R: I can honestly say that it's going to be tough to go back to restaurant made corned beef and poutine after this challenge. James' sauce was flavorful and complex yet subtle enough that it let our hero, the corned beef shine. It was the perfect compliment for our corned beef and crispy fries. I would absolutely recommend that you all run out and buy yourself a brisket to transform into corned beef, and if you are so inclined - poutine-ify it. You'll have no regrets. Trust me.
J: I guess the question still remains: What do you do with 4 1/2 lbs. of perfectly cooked corned beef & poutine? Have a French Canadian 'plaid only' dinner, with all your hungriest friends! Success topped with a curd-fail/ricotta-win cheesecake. The end.
Southern Fried Road Trip (Part 4)
This next leg of our trip was the most exciting for me. Ever since I had read 'Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil' back in highschool, I have dreamed of visiting Savannah, GA. Romantic, ethereal, mysterious, friendly, beautiful Savannah! A place where you can rely on the kindness of strangers and words flow from peoples mouths as smoothly as silk. After ten years or so of visiting Savannah in my mind, I was finally going for real! From the moment I found out, I immediately began practicing my Southern drawl, (which I might add, is pretty terrible) while promising Zac that I wouldn't use my wonderfully charming accent in public.
After fueling up our car and ourselves, we left Atlanta and were headed for Savannah.
When we arrived at our B&B, Park Avenue Manor, I immediately felt giddy. We were truly staying in an old southern manor. Decorated from top to bottom just the way I had imagined it would be. We were greeted by the owner, with Sherry and homemade brownies, that we were told would be available to us 24 hours a day. Seriously?? If a hankering hit mid night, I could hop out of bed to sip sherry in the salon by the fire? How much better could this get?!
As dinnertime rolled around, the B&B owner sent us off to a great pub, with a fantastic beer list, called the Crystal Beer Parlor. We were on a roll eating only brown things, so why stop now? A hamburger with onion rings and fried shrimp with handmade potato chips and beer it was! Zac alleges that our server offered roasted veggies as one of the sides for my meal but, to this day, I still think he imagined it.
As last call was announced, I started to notice that people seemed to transferring their drinks into plastic cups. Feeling like I was about to ask a pretty stupid question, I shyly asked the bartender if people were actually taking their beer to go. He answered with a laugh, that they were and that it is legal to walk the streets of Savannah with alcohol in hand, "as long as you are within 50 feet of a pub, and in Savannah, you are always 50 feet from a pub!" To go cups of beer in hand, Zac and I made our way back to our B&B for a nightcap of Sherry and brownies.
Flowery sundresses and takeout cups of beer. In my next life, I'm coming back as a Southern Belle.
After fueling up our car and ourselves, we left Atlanta and were headed for Savannah.
When we arrived at our B&B, Park Avenue Manor, I immediately felt giddy. We were truly staying in an old southern manor. Decorated from top to bottom just the way I had imagined it would be. We were greeted by the owner, with Sherry and homemade brownies, that we were told would be available to us 24 hours a day. Seriously?? If a hankering hit mid night, I could hop out of bed to sip sherry in the salon by the fire? How much better could this get?!
As dinnertime rolled around, the B&B owner sent us off to a great pub, with a fantastic beer list, called the Crystal Beer Parlor. We were on a roll eating only brown things, so why stop now? A hamburger with onion rings and fried shrimp with handmade potato chips and beer it was! Zac alleges that our server offered roasted veggies as one of the sides for my meal but, to this day, I still think he imagined it.
As last call was announced, I started to notice that people seemed to transferring their drinks into plastic cups. Feeling like I was about to ask a pretty stupid question, I shyly asked the bartender if people were actually taking their beer to go. He answered with a laugh, that they were and that it is legal to walk the streets of Savannah with alcohol in hand, "as long as you are within 50 feet of a pub, and in Savannah, you are always 50 feet from a pub!" To go cups of beer in hand, Zac and I made our way back to our B&B for a nightcap of Sherry and brownies.
Flowery sundresses and takeout cups of beer. In my next life, I'm coming back as a Southern Belle.
Charcutepalooza! (A Year of Meat)
My friend James and I have recently decided to team up and take part in Charcutepalooza: a year dedicated to the art of curing and eating our own meat (twelve recipes in twelve months). Sadly, we were just shy of a week late for the deadline to become "official" participants, but we're hoping that Cathy Barrow, let's call her "the head honcho," of Mrs Wheelbarrow’s Kitchen and co-founder Kim Foster of The Yummy Mummy can find it in their hearts to let us join, once we prove our dedication to the cause, of course. Even if we aren't able to officially join in, we'll be happily plowing, unofficially, through the contest. In the end we'll be winners in our own hearts. That's really all that matters after all is said and done, right?
Since we dropped the ball on beginning alongside the throngs of meat-y fanatics out there, we missed the first cure which was duck prosciutto. We will however, be catching up on that once the temperature begins to rise and we have an appropriately tempered basement to hang our meat in.
Enough chitter-chatter. Let's get down to the business of the first challenge. The Salt Cure - Bacon!
I'm going to let James kick this one off with his two cents:
J: This was not the first time I’d made bacon. In fact, I almost didn’t buy the book (Charcuterie: The Art of Salting, Smoking and Curing by Michael Ruhlman and Brian Polcyn) because I thought "I’ll just go to Chapters, take a high res picture of the bacon page and bam! – save myself $40." Camera-phone focused and ready, I had a change of heart. The Black Hoof had something to do with this. I’d spent a rainy November night waiting for a table and sat down to a taste explosion, a taste-meat-explosion. If they could do it, and I could (probably) make bacon, then why not buy the whole book? No reason not to.
The first batch of bacon was christened ‘Christmas Bacon’, and became small gifts of porcine appreciation to friends and family. Christmas breakfast had never been so bacon-y. A total success, and not a trace of botulism (I agonized over accidentally poisoning someone for the whole week.) A few rounds of curing and smoking later and here we are, unofficial contestants in Charcutepalooza.
I won’t go into detail about the method, go buy the book. I will add some things though:
R: After much discussion among friends we decided that our freshly cured bacon would be transformed into the wicked-ist, most awesome-ist Club Sandwich we'd ever had. Ever since that decision was made, we both found ourselves dreaming about our first creation, literally. I dreamed that we made chicken soup from the smoked bones left over from our chicken and James was dreaming about fresh cut french fries to accompany our Club. After some discussion, we decided that it would be best to keep things simple on our first go and just stick to the sandwich. Not to worry, I'm sure we'll quickly complicate things, as we often do.
On Saturday morning, during an impromptu snow squall, James and I were off to the markets (St.Lawrence and Brickworks) to pick out the rest of our ingredients (our bacon was finished curing and ready to be smoked).
Here are the items that were to become our "Best Club Ever" (later to be dubbed "The 12hr Club" due to the time it took us to shop for, create, and shoot it):
It was finally time to dig ourselves a path and fire up the smoker!
J: The chicken was smoked for about 2hrs. at 275ºF in a Webber Smokey Mountain (WSM) over lump charcoal and Jack Daniels whiskey barrel pellets. The rub is my secret recipe, but these Cedar Grilling guys are king in the barbecue ring. Try their rub, it's good too.
After making our aioli, which left us with egg whites that we didn't want to waste, I proposed that we make meringues. I’d always thought about making meringues but never attempted it – I’m not much for baking. Reena taking the reigns of measure made them quite a bit more ‘consistent.’ Our mid-meringue addition consisted of a quick shopping trip to pick up orange and peppermint extract. Add a bit of shaved dark chocolate and we’re talkin’ mint-chocolate chip ice cream and Terry’s Chocolate Orange meringues!
Seeing as our recipe is rather simple, we've decided to spice it up a bit and go with more of an illustrated version:
Our first challenge was a success and we can't wait to get our hands salty with the next one!
All of our challenges will be posted on the 15th of the month, so check in then to follow us on our adventure in Charcutapalooza-land.
We'd like to extend a special thanks to the fine people of Multi-national CONGLOMOCOR for requesting that our sandwich become their "official corporate executive club-style sandwich" – the Conglomoclub. At the President's request, that version will be sans-tomatoes and if desired, the diner may order it ‘with tomatoes.’ No big deal.
Since we dropped the ball on beginning alongside the throngs of meat-y fanatics out there, we missed the first cure which was duck prosciutto. We will however, be catching up on that once the temperature begins to rise and we have an appropriately tempered basement to hang our meat in.
Enough chitter-chatter. Let's get down to the business of the first challenge. The Salt Cure - Bacon!
I'm going to let James kick this one off with his two cents:
J: This was not the first time I’d made bacon. In fact, I almost didn’t buy the book (Charcuterie: The Art of Salting, Smoking and Curing by Michael Ruhlman and Brian Polcyn) because I thought "I’ll just go to Chapters, take a high res picture of the bacon page and bam! – save myself $40." Camera-phone focused and ready, I had a change of heart. The Black Hoof had something to do with this. I’d spent a rainy November night waiting for a table and sat down to a taste explosion, a taste-meat-explosion. If they could do it, and I could (probably) make bacon, then why not buy the whole book? No reason not to.
The first batch of bacon was christened ‘Christmas Bacon’, and became small gifts of porcine appreciation to friends and family. Christmas breakfast had never been so bacon-y. A total success, and not a trace of botulism (I agonized over accidentally poisoning someone for the whole week.) A few rounds of curing and smoking later and here we are, unofficial contestants in Charcutepalooza.
I won’t go into detail about the method, go buy the book. I will add some things though:
- Smoking the cured belly to the correct internal temperature is far superior to roasting it off in the oven (no, I haven’t tried the oven method, why would I?)
- Don’t fear botulism, especially if you’re using pink salt. (note: pink salt is dyed pink in some places and not in others. It’s just salt mixed with sodium nitrate.)
- Your bacon will be the best you’ve ever had, fact!
R: After much discussion among friends we decided that our freshly cured bacon would be transformed into the wicked-ist, most awesome-ist Club Sandwich we'd ever had. Ever since that decision was made, we both found ourselves dreaming about our first creation, literally. I dreamed that we made chicken soup from the smoked bones left over from our chicken and James was dreaming about fresh cut french fries to accompany our Club. After some discussion, we decided that it would be best to keep things simple on our first go and just stick to the sandwich. Not to worry, I'm sure we'll quickly complicate things, as we often do.
On Saturday morning, during an impromptu snow squall, James and I were off to the markets (St.Lawrence and Brickworks) to pick out the rest of our ingredients (our bacon was finished curing and ready to be smoked).
Here are the items that were to become our "Best Club Ever" (later to be dubbed "The 12hr Club" due to the time it took us to shop for, create, and shoot it):
- Pork Belly, that was at home finishing it's cure and waiting to be smoked, which was, of course, to become our bacon-y hero, from Wayne's Meat (Hagersville, ON)
- Chicken, which we would season and smoke, from Clement Poultry (Newcastle, ON).
- Hydroponically grown Ontario lettuce and tomatoes.
- After tasting a sample, we couldn't resist picking up some Eweda, a semi hard aged sheep cheese, from Best Baa Farm (Fergus, ON).
- Homemade aioli made from farm fresh eggs that we picked up from The Sunrise Egg Farm (Wallenstein, ON).
- Freshly baked whole wheat bread from Celena's Bakery (Toronto, ON). James had insisted on us needing "bread shaped bread" for our sandwiches, so we hit three bakeries before he dubbed a traditional loaf shaped loaf, from Celena's, to be worthy of our sandwich.
- Pickles from Jamie Kennedy's Gilead Cafe (Toronto, ON). Which Zac would arrive with just in time to eat.
It was finally time to dig ourselves a path and fire up the smoker!
J: The chicken was smoked for about 2hrs. at 275ºF in a Webber Smokey Mountain (WSM) over lump charcoal and Jack Daniels whiskey barrel pellets. The rub is my secret recipe, but these Cedar Grilling guys are king in the barbecue ring. Try their rub, it's good too.
After making our aioli, which left us with egg whites that we didn't want to waste, I proposed that we make meringues. I’d always thought about making meringues but never attempted it – I’m not much for baking. Reena taking the reigns of measure made them quite a bit more ‘consistent.’ Our mid-meringue addition consisted of a quick shopping trip to pick up orange and peppermint extract. Add a bit of shaved dark chocolate and we’re talkin’ mint-chocolate chip ice cream and Terry’s Chocolate Orange meringues!
Seeing as our recipe is rather simple, we've decided to spice it up a bit and go with more of an illustrated version:
All of our challenges will be posted on the 15th of the month, so check in then to follow us on our adventure in Charcutapalooza-land.
We'd like to extend a special thanks to the fine people of Multi-national CONGLOMOCOR for requesting that our sandwich become their "official corporate executive club-style sandwich" – the Conglomoclub. At the President's request, that version will be sans-tomatoes and if desired, the diner may order it ‘with tomatoes.’ No big deal.
Southern Fried Road Trip (Part 3)
A friend of ours, who had lived in Atlanta, GA for a bit, recommend that we try Fat Matt's Rib Shack. Actually I'm pretty sure he insisted that it was THE place for great BBQ. So we went. And it was delightful. After taking a quick glimpse at the menu board we decided on: one chopped pork sandwich, one rib sandwich, mac and cheese with both and one giant sweet tea for me. Oh and a piece of pecan pie. Oh, that pecan pie.... Yet again, we found ourselves polishing off our plates and licking our fingers clean. The bbq sauce is just too good to waste by wiping it onto a napkin! Fat Matt's definitely did not disappoint.
I've been noticing more and more, that for me, part of what makes food taste so great is the atmosphere. Fat Matt's had lots of it. Big bright signs, a touch of neon, truly friendly staff and a shop filled to the brim with happy customers busy licking sauce from every finger. The clientele consisted of everyone from students to truckers to fancy ladies with their designer bags and their hair freshly did. It was truly fantastic. If we hadn't been on our way to Savannah, I could have stayed all day.
I've been noticing more and more, that for me, part of what makes food taste so great is the atmosphere. Fat Matt's had lots of it. Big bright signs, a touch of neon, truly friendly staff and a shop filled to the brim with happy customers busy licking sauce from every finger. The clientele consisted of everyone from students to truckers to fancy ladies with their designer bags and their hair freshly did. It was truly fantastic. If we hadn't been on our way to Savannah, I could have stayed all day.
Southern Fried Road Trip (Part 2)
This is the day we ate four southern-sized meals in twelve hours. As painful on my intestinal tract as these twelve hours were, it was honestly one of the best food days of my life. The day had come for us to finally meet some proper Carolina BBQ, as well as that good 'ol Southern soul food. This was pretty much the only part of our trip that we had actually planned out but it was also bit of a Hail Mary play. We had learned about our two main destinations from Alton Brown's Feasting on Asphalt series, that had aired back in 2006. He had touted them as the best bbq and fried chicken in the south. It's been a bad couple of years in the states, so we weren't sure if these places would still be around. We decided to take a gamble all in the name of great food discovery and a bit of adventure.
We woke and went down to check out the "continental breakfast" at our hotel. Expecting some packaged croissants and a bad coffee, we were surprised to find a buffet of greasy delights. We enjoyed fresh baked biscuits topped with sausage patties and gravy. The best part of the buffet was the bowl of fruit in the corner that had obviously not been touched since the last Canadians were in town and was slowly rotting.
Next up Carolina Smoke House in Cashiers, North Carolina.
As we drove for hours, up and up and up one of the windiest, most lovely tree-lined roads, deeper and deeper into the middle of nowhere, we were literally giddy with anticipation of our first mouthful. Driving with the windows down we got intermittent whiffs of smokey pits filled with meat. The anticipation was almost too much to bear. When we pulled up in front of the restaurant, we were greeted by the sight of a group of bikers. Thinking that we had pulled into a bit of a backwoods biker hangout, I left my vintage Louis bag in the trunk, so as not to appear too flashy. We walked in and grabbed a table right beside four ladies right out of "The Real Housewives of..." - decked out with Louis bags (I suspect from the actual Louis store) and UGGS... ha! I guess pit-smoked BBQ is the Holt's Cafe of Cashiers, NC.
On to the food... Here is where I fell in looooove with sweet tea, and learned two things:
Now here's the problem with our plan: it turned out that the two places we most desperately wanted to hit were only an hours drive apart. There was no chance of us picking only one, so knowing that we would be having a second lunch in about an hour, we planned on eating enough to just get a solid taste for BBQ and leave room for a second course of soul food. As you can see, we pretty much polished off our plates. Oops.
Second Lunch was Shirley's Sole Food Cafe in Toccoa, Georgia.
Shirley's definitely jumps to the top of my list as far as favorite things we did during our road trip. With to-go cups of sweet tea in hand, we packed ourselves back into the car and headed for Georgia. As I mentioned before, this is one of the two destinations we actually had planned to hit and this was the restaurant we deemed least likely to pan out. At least the Smoke House has a website that seemed to be up to date. Heading to Shirley's was a bigger gamble, but we couldn't resist giving it a go. After an hour's drive, we reached Toccoa, GA. and with baited breath we kept our eyes pealed for Shirley's. As our GPS loudly proclaimed "arriving at destination on right" our hearts quickly sank when Shirley's didn't appear. We continued to drive through the sad and dilapidated downtown, and just as we were about to give up, Shirly's appeared at the bottom of a hill. It looked pretty deserted and the conversation turned to positive sounding banter about how the ride was fun anyway and we'd already had a great meal at the last place, yada yada. We pulled over to take a look inside and when I tried the door, it was locked. Suddenly, I saw someone inside and he was walking towards the door. He was a very soft-spoken, very shy man with an incredibly thick southern accent. From what I could understand, they were closed for the day because they were preparing meals for a fundraiser that was being held that night. I began to walk away but he opened the door and asked if we were hungry and wanted to eat. I excitedly, and somewhat quizzically said "yes?" He went back inside to talk to Shirley, and came back shortly to invite us inside. Over the moon doesn't even describe how thrilled I was. Shirley explained that they were having a fundraiser that evening where people would be able to buy a pre-packed meal for $7 and all the money was being donated to a local shelter. She happily sold us one (we politely declined a second. After all, this was our second lunch in an hour). We thanked her profusely as I exclaimed "we drove all the way from Toronto just to try your chicken!" Takeout containers in hand we headed outside (so they could continue prepping) and plopped ourselves down in the parking lot to break into the goods.
Inside was one half of a roasted chicken, beans, coleslaw, a couple slices of Wonderbread, applesauce and a nice big cup of sweet tea. As thrilled as we were to have been so lucky, when we opened the container, we were disappointed to discover that the chicken was roasted and not fried (we went to Shirley's specifically for the fried chicken), but were still beyond excited that we had an amazing stroke of luck and Shirley had opened her doors to feed us. One taste of that chicken and all of our disappointment disappeared. Here we were, trying to be all classy with our plastic forks in the parking lot, but one bite of that chicken had us quickly ditching our utensils so we could devour the meal as quickly as possible. I'm pretty sure that we didn't even speak until the chicken had been picked clean. BEST chicken of my life! I'm seriously not exaggerating. I still dream about it. So Second Lunch, that we had decided we would just get a taste of, disappeared much like lunch number one. When Zac reached for the wonder bread, I nearly lost it. I couldn't believe that he was even considering eating it. Turns out, he's a pretty clever gent. One thing that was missing from our meal was napkins and it turns out that Wonderbread makes a pretty great substitute.
I wish I had had more time to chat with Shirley but she was really busy preparing all the meals for that evening. I was so grateful that she had let us in and fed us that I didn't dare take up any more of her time. Someday, I'll have to go back to shoot a portrait of Shirley and try her fried chicken.
Dinner that night, which we barely managed to drag ourselves to, was at Greenwood's Restaurant in Roswell, Georgia. Now this was an absolute gem of a find that we literally stumbled across. Everything is made in-house from scratch with local, organic, seasonal ingredients. Everything that touched my tongue was almost too good to be true. The fried chicken is made to order and has the kind of incredibly crunchy and sophisticated batter that I thought only existed in my dreams. Even the sides were beyond words. Zac and I spent the entire evening trying to figure out how they make the sweet potatoes... we're pretty sure one of the tricks is vanilla, but honestly, we'd never tasted sweet potatoes like these! Oh! and the cheese grits... swoon. Sadly, there are two things I regret about this trip and they both came about because of Greenwood's. The first is not having had a piece of pie and the second is forgetting the leftovers in the hotel room fridge the next morning (this I'm pretty sure I'll never forgive myself for).
I would have to say that if you are in the Atlanta, GA area, Greenwoods is an absolute must. A word of advice. Go on an empty stomach. Actually, don't eat for three days prior. Get the fried chicken and share it between at least two people, and for the love of god, at least get the pie and take it home for later!
We rolled ourselves back to our hotel, bloated and over-satisfied, where we swore that we would never eat again. After we brushed our teeth, I sneaked into our little fridge, where we had stowed away our leftovers, ate a mouthful of sweet potato and a piece of the crispy chicken skin, then crawled into bed to dream about the food I would eat the next day.
We woke and went down to check out the "continental breakfast" at our hotel. Expecting some packaged croissants and a bad coffee, we were surprised to find a buffet of greasy delights. We enjoyed fresh baked biscuits topped with sausage patties and gravy. The best part of the buffet was the bowl of fruit in the corner that had obviously not been touched since the last Canadians were in town and was slowly rotting.
Next up Carolina Smoke House in Cashiers, North Carolina.
As we drove for hours, up and up and up one of the windiest, most lovely tree-lined roads, deeper and deeper into the middle of nowhere, we were literally giddy with anticipation of our first mouthful. Driving with the windows down we got intermittent whiffs of smokey pits filled with meat. The anticipation was almost too much to bear. When we pulled up in front of the restaurant, we were greeted by the sight of a group of bikers. Thinking that we had pulled into a bit of a backwoods biker hangout, I left my vintage Louis bag in the trunk, so as not to appear too flashy. We walked in and grabbed a table right beside four ladies right out of "The Real Housewives of..." - decked out with Louis bags (I suspect from the actual Louis store) and UGGS... ha! I guess pit-smoked BBQ is the Holt's Cafe of Cashiers, NC.
On to the food... Here is where I fell in looooove with sweet tea, and learned two things:
- Beverages only come in one size: gargantuan. I actually needed two hands to lift the glass to my mouth.
- Refills are always included (and expected!) and you are always offered a to-go cup, just in case the first 20 litres of liquid wasn't enough to satisfy your thirst. But when in Rome, I say bring on the refills! I probably drank enough sweet tea to drown a horse.
Now here's the problem with our plan: it turned out that the two places we most desperately wanted to hit were only an hours drive apart. There was no chance of us picking only one, so knowing that we would be having a second lunch in about an hour, we planned on eating enough to just get a solid taste for BBQ and leave room for a second course of soul food. As you can see, we pretty much polished off our plates. Oops.
Second Lunch was Shirley's Sole Food Cafe in Toccoa, Georgia.
Shirley's definitely jumps to the top of my list as far as favorite things we did during our road trip. With to-go cups of sweet tea in hand, we packed ourselves back into the car and headed for Georgia. As I mentioned before, this is one of the two destinations we actually had planned to hit and this was the restaurant we deemed least likely to pan out. At least the Smoke House has a website that seemed to be up to date. Heading to Shirley's was a bigger gamble, but we couldn't resist giving it a go. After an hour's drive, we reached Toccoa, GA. and with baited breath we kept our eyes pealed for Shirley's. As our GPS loudly proclaimed "arriving at destination on right" our hearts quickly sank when Shirley's didn't appear. We continued to drive through the sad and dilapidated downtown, and just as we were about to give up, Shirly's appeared at the bottom of a hill. It looked pretty deserted and the conversation turned to positive sounding banter about how the ride was fun anyway and we'd already had a great meal at the last place, yada yada. We pulled over to take a look inside and when I tried the door, it was locked. Suddenly, I saw someone inside and he was walking towards the door. He was a very soft-spoken, very shy man with an incredibly thick southern accent. From what I could understand, they were closed for the day because they were preparing meals for a fundraiser that was being held that night. I began to walk away but he opened the door and asked if we were hungry and wanted to eat. I excitedly, and somewhat quizzically said "yes?" He went back inside to talk to Shirley, and came back shortly to invite us inside. Over the moon doesn't even describe how thrilled I was. Shirley explained that they were having a fundraiser that evening where people would be able to buy a pre-packed meal for $7 and all the money was being donated to a local shelter. She happily sold us one (we politely declined a second. After all, this was our second lunch in an hour). We thanked her profusely as I exclaimed "we drove all the way from Toronto just to try your chicken!" Takeout containers in hand we headed outside (so they could continue prepping) and plopped ourselves down in the parking lot to break into the goods.
Inside was one half of a roasted chicken, beans, coleslaw, a couple slices of Wonderbread, applesauce and a nice big cup of sweet tea. As thrilled as we were to have been so lucky, when we opened the container, we were disappointed to discover that the chicken was roasted and not fried (we went to Shirley's specifically for the fried chicken), but were still beyond excited that we had an amazing stroke of luck and Shirley had opened her doors to feed us. One taste of that chicken and all of our disappointment disappeared. Here we were, trying to be all classy with our plastic forks in the parking lot, but one bite of that chicken had us quickly ditching our utensils so we could devour the meal as quickly as possible. I'm pretty sure that we didn't even speak until the chicken had been picked clean. BEST chicken of my life! I'm seriously not exaggerating. I still dream about it. So Second Lunch, that we had decided we would just get a taste of, disappeared much like lunch number one. When Zac reached for the wonder bread, I nearly lost it. I couldn't believe that he was even considering eating it. Turns out, he's a pretty clever gent. One thing that was missing from our meal was napkins and it turns out that Wonderbread makes a pretty great substitute.
I wish I had had more time to chat with Shirley but she was really busy preparing all the meals for that evening. I was so grateful that she had let us in and fed us that I didn't dare take up any more of her time. Someday, I'll have to go back to shoot a portrait of Shirley and try her fried chicken.
Dinner that night, which we barely managed to drag ourselves to, was at Greenwood's Restaurant in Roswell, Georgia. Now this was an absolute gem of a find that we literally stumbled across. Everything is made in-house from scratch with local, organic, seasonal ingredients. Everything that touched my tongue was almost too good to be true. The fried chicken is made to order and has the kind of incredibly crunchy and sophisticated batter that I thought only existed in my dreams. Even the sides were beyond words. Zac and I spent the entire evening trying to figure out how they make the sweet potatoes... we're pretty sure one of the tricks is vanilla, but honestly, we'd never tasted sweet potatoes like these! Oh! and the cheese grits... swoon. Sadly, there are two things I regret about this trip and they both came about because of Greenwood's. The first is not having had a piece of pie and the second is forgetting the leftovers in the hotel room fridge the next morning (this I'm pretty sure I'll never forgive myself for).
I would have to say that if you are in the Atlanta, GA area, Greenwoods is an absolute must. A word of advice. Go on an empty stomach. Actually, don't eat for three days prior. Get the fried chicken and share it between at least two people, and for the love of god, at least get the pie and take it home for later!
We rolled ourselves back to our hotel, bloated and over-satisfied, where we swore that we would never eat again. After we brushed our teeth, I sneaked into our little fridge, where we had stowed away our leftovers, ate a mouthful of sweet potato and a piece of the crispy chicken skin, then crawled into bed to dream about the food I would eat the next day.
Southern Fried Road Trip (Part 1)
Recently, The Hubby and I took a few days off to drive my grandmother's car down to Florida for her. Instead of just heading straight on down the highway we decided to make our trip a little more interesting by creating our very own "Feasting on Asphalt" episode (sadly, minus Alton Brown). Our goal for this trip was simple: eat/experience as much soul food and BBQ as we could possibly fit down our gullets in four days.
Since all great road trips must begin with coffee, we filled up at Dark Horse and were off to the border.
Finding a little mom and pop restaurant is not the easiest task while you're motoring on down the highway, trying to get as far south as you possibly can in one day. As lunch time came and went, we found ourselves aimlessly driving around Princeton, PA in search of a little family owned restaurant. Our hunger finally won out to stubbornness and we started off our trip with a chain. Stop number one: Steak N' Shake, where happy hour means 1/2 price milk shakes. How could we have possibly passed that up? Steak burgers and GIANT $1.50 milkshakes were really the perfect way to kick off our trip.
Overly full and jacked up on grease and milkshakes we buckled up and hit the road again. I hope you'll forgive me sparing you the details of our sing alongs and games of eye spy. I'm guessing, if you're reading this you're here for the food....
As dinner time began to roll around we were determined to stumble upon something worthy of a story. When all the eye could see were Subway's, McDonald's, and Cracker Barrel's the theme of our drive quickly became: 'Just one more exit'. Seeing as we happened to be in the middle of the mountains and exits were becoming few and far between, we sadly succumbed to a Subway sign and pulled off the road. Now this is where the trip really began to get exciting for me. As we turned off the hiway we saw a beacon of light in a sea of corporate restaurants, Sam's Hot Dog Stand. I'm not a particularly big fan of the hot dog, and as I quickly learned, American's eat their dogs boiled, not grilled, which made me even less of a fan. But, as they say: when in Rome... eat boiled hot dogs. The choices for toppings were simple, ketchup, mustard, relish, mayo, chili and cheese... Already craving a vegetable or two I immediately jumped at the chili option. Here I was envisioning my hotdog slathered in chili packed full of beans and peppers (which zac later on had a good laugh at), just to be handed a bun filled with brown, not even a cleverly hidden piece of pepper to be found. Silly girl, what was I thinking?? Well, I skeptically dug into my dog and in all honesty, Sam's made my night. Best Roller-Dog ever! I even grabbed a second one for the road.
Part two is in the works, so check back soon!
Since all great road trips must begin with coffee, we filled up at Dark Horse and were off to the border.
Finding a little mom and pop restaurant is not the easiest task while you're motoring on down the highway, trying to get as far south as you possibly can in one day. As lunch time came and went, we found ourselves aimlessly driving around Princeton, PA in search of a little family owned restaurant. Our hunger finally won out to stubbornness and we started off our trip with a chain. Stop number one: Steak N' Shake, where happy hour means 1/2 price milk shakes. How could we have possibly passed that up? Steak burgers and GIANT $1.50 milkshakes were really the perfect way to kick off our trip.
Overly full and jacked up on grease and milkshakes we buckled up and hit the road again. I hope you'll forgive me sparing you the details of our sing alongs and games of eye spy. I'm guessing, if you're reading this you're here for the food....
As dinner time began to roll around we were determined to stumble upon something worthy of a story. When all the eye could see were Subway's, McDonald's, and Cracker Barrel's the theme of our drive quickly became: 'Just one more exit'. Seeing as we happened to be in the middle of the mountains and exits were becoming few and far between, we sadly succumbed to a Subway sign and pulled off the road. Now this is where the trip really began to get exciting for me. As we turned off the hiway we saw a beacon of light in a sea of corporate restaurants, Sam's Hot Dog Stand. I'm not a particularly big fan of the hot dog, and as I quickly learned, American's eat their dogs boiled, not grilled, which made me even less of a fan. But, as they say: when in Rome... eat boiled hot dogs. The choices for toppings were simple, ketchup, mustard, relish, mayo, chili and cheese... Already craving a vegetable or two I immediately jumped at the chili option. Here I was envisioning my hotdog slathered in chili packed full of beans and peppers (which zac later on had a good laugh at), just to be handed a bun filled with brown, not even a cleverly hidden piece of pepper to be found. Silly girl, what was I thinking?? Well, I skeptically dug into my dog and in all honesty, Sam's made my night. Best Roller-Dog ever! I even grabbed a second one for the road.
Part two is in the works, so check back soon!
Challah, Pt.2
If you missed my first post about my foray into baking Challah you might want to catch up here. I believe I left off with a bleak-looking prognosis on the bread baking front. To my complete shock, I am thrilled to report that in the end, my Challahs (that's right, I decided to make two) turned out to be quite successful!
Now that I've jumped ahead to the end, I'll take you back to the sponges. My original plan was to keep only one of the two starters I had made. I thought that I would have a better chance of actually making bread if I attempted two, assuming that one would be a complete flop. Of course, having never done this before, I quickly realized that there was no way for me to know which was the better one, so the obvious answer was to make two complete loaves. Go big or go home, I guess. Still feeling pretty nervous about the whole 'making Challah' thing, I peeled back the plastic-wrap from the first starter and was immediately hit with a wonderfully warm and invitingly fresh yeast smell. It was time to begin the dough. To my complete surprise and elation, the dough felt like, and came together exactly as, the book described. Things were beginning to look up. It was time to bake these lovely loaves. I waited impatiently, unable to sit still. BEEP, BEEP! Finally! I slowly peeked under the foil which revealed perfectly browned, steaming hot loves of challah! A mini-success! Why only mini? I still had no idea how they tasted. Here's where my stress level rises again: I had timed my Challah making venture to end just before Friday night dinner at Bubbie's began. I was about to present two, potentially horrible (one of which was a little on the heavy side.. eep), loaves of Challah to my entire family. It was a pretty scary prospect, seeing as we have scoured the city for the best Challah, and eaten it most Friday nights. As you already know, the loaves were a success! The flavor and texture were great, well at least pretty damn good for a first crack at it. Surprisingly, the loaf I had made with my experimental starter was even better than the other.
I really love making bread, it's tactile, it's creative, it's methodical and precise. All the same qualities that draw me towards photography.
Now that I've jumped ahead to the end, I'll take you back to the sponges. My original plan was to keep only one of the two starters I had made. I thought that I would have a better chance of actually making bread if I attempted two, assuming that one would be a complete flop. Of course, having never done this before, I quickly realized that there was no way for me to know which was the better one, so the obvious answer was to make two complete loaves. Go big or go home, I guess. Still feeling pretty nervous about the whole 'making Challah' thing, I peeled back the plastic-wrap from the first starter and was immediately hit with a wonderfully warm and invitingly fresh yeast smell. It was time to begin the dough. To my complete surprise and elation, the dough felt like, and came together exactly as, the book described. Things were beginning to look up. It was time to bake these lovely loaves. I waited impatiently, unable to sit still. BEEP, BEEP! Finally! I slowly peeked under the foil which revealed perfectly browned, steaming hot loves of challah! A mini-success! Why only mini? I still had no idea how they tasted. Here's where my stress level rises again: I had timed my Challah making venture to end just before Friday night dinner at Bubbie's began. I was about to present two, potentially horrible (one of which was a little on the heavy side.. eep), loaves of Challah to my entire family. It was a pretty scary prospect, seeing as we have scoured the city for the best Challah, and eaten it most Friday nights. As you already know, the loaves were a success! The flavor and texture were great, well at least pretty damn good for a first crack at it. Surprisingly, the loaf I had made with my experimental starter was even better than the other.
I really love making bread, it's tactile, it's creative, it's methodical and precise. All the same qualities that draw me towards photography.
Challah, Take One.
I was watching the Tartine bread baking video a couple days ago (which, might I mention, is stunning and inspiring) and since then I can't seem to focus on anything other than the feel of puffy, yeasty, living dough in my hands. Last night, I pulled out 'The Bread Bible' and decided to attempt a challah. This is an all time favorite for me and I figured it was time to give it a go. Attacking this recipe poses a few substantial challenges for me:
Here's how my morning's going so far.... Not too well.
I mixed together my sponge to discover that it was runny and not at all like "a very smooth, very thick batter" as the book describes. After triple checking my measurements, I noticed the date on my recently EXPIRED yeast... blargh! Thinking maybe that could have had something to do with my soupy starter (but doubting it nonetheless), I ran off to the grocery store to purchase some UN-expired yeast. With fresh yeast in hand, I attempted starter numero dose. As I suspected, the yeast had nothing to do with the texture, and once again, I ended up with a very smooth, very thin batter. At this point frustration was seriously setting in. Not sure what I was doing wrong, I ran to the all powerful internet to see if I could come up with some kind of explanation. I found a few fixes for sourdough starters, but this is a sponge and as far as I can tell, a whole other beast. Feeling impatient and on the brink of giving up, yet determined not to fail, I decided to start adding flour to my third starter, trying to emulate what I believed to be the right consistency. Now, those of you that know me, know that I am a stickler for 'the rules' when it comes to baking. Just randomly throwing flour into a recipe is completely against my character and frankly a little stressful. At this point, I am still fighting the lump in my throat that is pushing me to bail on this project. If I bail now, I'll never have to know that my bread was a complete failure. BUT on the flip side, if I bail now I'll also never know if the bread may have turned out to be a success either.
While I wait on my starters, hopefully fermenting away in their bowls, I'll leave you with a list of what I've accomplished up to this point: One incredibly messy kitchen, three attempts at a starter, and managing to look rather cute in my apron. Well, I've got a few hours to go before anything else exciting is supposed to happen, so I'll leave you with this and update you as things begin to progress, or fail miserably...
P.S. If anyone out there has any sage advice, I'd LOVE to hear it!
- Bread baking puts me in the position of facing the prospect of a serious failure, and we all know how little I like the thought of turning out failed baked goods.
- I've never made a sponge starter. Making one successfully, so I'm told, is a difficult task and often a massive flop on your first few tries.
- Facing the fact that I will very likely fail at this task but talking myself into attempting the recipe anyway.
Here's how my morning's going so far.... Not too well.
I mixed together my sponge to discover that it was runny and not at all like "a very smooth, very thick batter" as the book describes. After triple checking my measurements, I noticed the date on my recently EXPIRED yeast... blargh! Thinking maybe that could have had something to do with my soupy starter (but doubting it nonetheless), I ran off to the grocery store to purchase some UN-expired yeast. With fresh yeast in hand, I attempted starter numero dose. As I suspected, the yeast had nothing to do with the texture, and once again, I ended up with a very smooth, very thin batter. At this point frustration was seriously setting in. Not sure what I was doing wrong, I ran to the all powerful internet to see if I could come up with some kind of explanation. I found a few fixes for sourdough starters, but this is a sponge and as far as I can tell, a whole other beast. Feeling impatient and on the brink of giving up, yet determined not to fail, I decided to start adding flour to my third starter, trying to emulate what I believed to be the right consistency. Now, those of you that know me, know that I am a stickler for 'the rules' when it comes to baking. Just randomly throwing flour into a recipe is completely against my character and frankly a little stressful. At this point, I am still fighting the lump in my throat that is pushing me to bail on this project. If I bail now, I'll never have to know that my bread was a complete failure. BUT on the flip side, if I bail now I'll also never know if the bread may have turned out to be a success either.
While I wait on my starters, hopefully fermenting away in their bowls, I'll leave you with a list of what I've accomplished up to this point: One incredibly messy kitchen, three attempts at a starter, and managing to look rather cute in my apron. Well, I've got a few hours to go before anything else exciting is supposed to happen, so I'll leave you with this and update you as things begin to progress, or fail miserably...
P.S. If anyone out there has any sage advice, I'd LOVE to hear it!
Adventures in Apple Picking
Last week, I got to spend the afternoon participating in an apple harvest organized by The Ontario Association of Food Banks for The Salvaton Army. Other than filling about 150 bags, bursting with apples, the most exciting thing for me was getting the chance to collaborate with my sister Robin, who is currently working with the fantastic organization Not Far From the Tree. Instead of rambling on, I'm going to defer to Robin since she's written a lovely summery of the day's events. Check out her blog post here and some of my images from the day, below.
Now, what to do with all those apples... Crumble perhaps? Stay tuned.
Now, what to do with all those apples... Crumble perhaps? Stay tuned.