Archive for April, 2009

Robins may be the famous harbinger of spring. But in my garden (aka the backyard) it's bright green fiddleheads pushing up through the leaves that announce the best season of  all. Curled up like the scroll at the top of a violin, or  fiddle, these ostrich fern shoots are not only a sign of good things to come, but the first feed of the year from my land.

The tightly furled fiddleheads at the perfect stage for picking. Simply snack the fiddleheads back and off.

Still coiled tight around the base of the plant and wrapped in what looks like caramel brown tissue paper fiddleheads are "ripe" for picking. It doesn't take more than a few days for the ferns to unfurl, turn into the tall ferns they are, and form the backdrop to a shady garden of hostas.  Too late to eat!

A warm day and the tightly curled fiddleheads shoot up. You can still pick the shorter fiddleheads, and include an inch (2.5 cm) or so of the stem as well. A wise picker takes only 3 shoots per plant so that next year the plant will have another harvest ready for picking.

My plan is always to get them while I can. And while the haste could be ascribed to greedyness, a sin I have been known to embrace, the truth is that ostrich ferns, left unculled in a home garden, would soon muscle into the territory of other favourite plants. In the wild, they spread luxuriantly over the banks and flats along freshwater rivers and streams.  So, at home I pick and cull as I go along, and cook up a feast as soon as the shoots emerge. Better to pluck them as 2-inch (5 cm) fiddleheads on a cool spring day than dig them out as 3-foot (3 m) ferns under a blazingJuly  sun. 

How to Get Your Hands on Some Fiddleheads:

If your garden isn't as lush with fiddleheads as mine, you do have options. Fiddleheads grow wild in the eastern part of Canada where they are harvested commercially. You can often find fiddleheads in farmers' markets starting around the end of April/early May until early -mid June, all depending on the weather, of course. In recent years, supermarkets across Canada have begun to stock fresh fiddleheads, often in bulk, but  sometimes packaged, for example, by the family-owned Norcliff Farms as "Fiddlehead Greens". Out of season, look for frozen fiddleheads packed and processed by this Canadian company. For the first time ever, fiddleheads are being farmed commercially near Port Colborne in Southwestern Ontario. Norcliff Farms, the largest packer and distributor of fiddleheads in the world, is responsible for this innovative venture. 

Prepping Fiddleheads:

First things first. Remove the papery coating from each fiddlehead. There are various ways of doing this - shaking the fiddleheads in a paper bag, or rubbing the coating off under cold running water. However, the most reliable way is to tackle the fiddleheads with a small paring knife. Then, rinse the fiddleheads thoroughly. If there is any evidence of grit, rinse again and agitate in a bowl of cold water. And just before cooking, trim off the stem.

Cooking Fiddleheads:

Fresh fiddleheads need to be cooked through. You can do this by plunging them into boiling water and, after covering and bringing them back to the boil,  boil for about 3 minutes or until tender. Or steam for about 7 minutes. Drain, immerse in ice water just long enough to stop the cooking process. Drain, pat dry with towels and toss in a salad with asparagus, or stir into a risotto, top a goat cheese canape, or reheat briefly in butter or oil and serve, seasoned with salt, pepper and a squirt of lemon. 

Fiddlehead Spaghetti Frittata

My motto with fiddleheads is keep it simple. You do want to taste them after all.  So I pair them with gentle flavours and don't complicate the cooking. 

8 oz (250 g) spaghetti, wholewheat if desired

1/3 cup (75 mL) freshly grated Parmesan cheese

3 tbsp (45 mL) butter

2 tbsp (30 mL) finely chopped parsley

1 tbsp (15 mL) snipped chives

5 large eggs

1/2 tsp (2 mL) each salt and freshly ground pepper

1 cup (250 mL) cooked fiddleheads (see above)

. In large pot of boiling salted water, cook spaghetti until tender but firm, about 8 to 10 minutes. Drain well; transfer to large bowl. Sprinkle with 1/4 cup (50 mL) of the cheese, 2 tbsp (30 mL) of the butter, parsley and chives. Toss well, letting the butter melt and the mixture cool briefly. 

. Meanwhile, in separate bowl, whisk eggs with salt and pepper. Scrape over the spaghetti mixture and toss gently to coat spaghetti and keep strands separate. 

. Heat remaining butter in large skillet over medium heat until melted and foaming. Rotate and tip skillet to coat side with butter. Pour in spaghetti mixture, spreading spaghetti evenly around the skillet. Nestle fiddleheads into the strands; sprinkle with remaining Pamesan cheese.

. Cook until bottom of frittata is golden brown and spaghetti mixture is firm from bottom almost to top, about 5 minutes. Slip the skillet under broiler and broil just until top is firm and nicely browned at edges. 

. Cut into wedges  to serve. Makes 4 servings.

Tip: Use leftover spaghetti or other long or short pasta.

Volunteers behind Phil Goodwin are planting shrubs on a wetland by the Don River.

Phil Goodwin is a publisher, and as a naturalist, a passionate supporter of the Don River. Flowing south through Toronto into Lake Ontario, the Don, like many rivers in Canadian cities has been in pretty rough shape over the last many decades. Deforestation, development, industry, pollution, carelessness and simple neglect have turned the river from a place to swim and catch salmon to a run of water in great need of recussitation.

Goodwin, tall and with an engaging smile is a key figure with the East Don Parkland Partners, the organization working to bring back the Don. While the health of the whole Don is Goodwin's passion, he and his supporters have taken on the replanting along a stretch of the river south of Cummer Avenue in North York. And that's where I headed on Saturday with my sister Janey Davis to help Goodwin's neighbours, friends, locals, colleagues, interested students and a whole Scout troop to plant native shrubs on a newly recreated meadow and wetland.  In early June, Goodwin will again assemble a group of volunteers to plant wild flowers and herbaceous plants in the same area.The Partners work with staff from the parks department who position the shrubs and trees, and bring the shovels, gloves for all size hands from kids to big and burly, mulch to keep the ground around the newly planted species moist, and planting know-how. There may be a better way to spend a spring Saturday, but I've yet to find it.

Saturday was cool and slightly overcast - perfect for planting. The one thing I thought I could provide besides the energy to plant, was homemade cookies to keep the planters energized. I chose Oatmeal Cookies found on page 35 of The Complete Canadian Living Baking Book (Transcontinental Books, $34.95). Because the group was big, my sister and I made two batches, one with white chocolate and dried cranberries, the second with pecans and maple chunks I had bought a few weeks ago at a store called Canadian Maple Delights in Old Montreal. 

Funny thing, just as the last cedar was in the ground, the last cookie went into tummy of one of the young planters. Couldn't be in better places.

Tree Planting Oatmeal Cookies

These are absolutely delicious oatmeal cookies, and you don't have to plant trees to earn one. I like to add cranberries and white chocolate, but you can accent the dough with any number of interesting add-ins. Raisins or currants are traditional as are chopped walnut halves. Regular chocolate chips of course. In all, your additions should measure about 1-1/2 cups (375 mL).  Feel free to add a little cinnamon or nutmeg if you like too. Or, some grated orange rind. 

2/3 cup (150 mL) butter, softened

1 cup (250 mL) packed light brown sugar

1 large egg

1 tbsp (15 mL) vanilla

1-1/2 cups large-flake rolled oats

1 cup (50 mL) all-purpose flour

1/2 tsp (2 mL) each baking powder and baking soda

1/4 tsp (1 mL) salt

3/4 cup (175 mL) chopped white chocolate

3/4 cup (175 mL) dried cranberries, dried cherries or raisins

. Line 2 large rimless baking sheets with parchment paper or silicone mats, or grease; set aside.

. In a large bowl, beat butter with brown sugar until fluffy; beat in the egg and vanilla. In a separate bowl, whisk together the oats, flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt; stir into the butter mixture in 2 additions until blended. Stir in the chocolate and cranberries.

. Cover and refrigerate for 30 minutes. Scoop by tablespoons (15 mL) into mounds, set 2-inches (5 cm) apart on prepared baking sheets. Roll each mound into a ball; with a fork, press down to about 1/2-inch (1.25 cm) thickness.

Rolling the dough into balls rather than just scooping the dough on the baking sheet helps make uniformly round cookies. Press evenly with a fork.

. Bake in bottom and top thirds of 350°F (180°C) oven until cookies are golden brown underneath and edges are crisp, about 12 to 15 minutes. Switch and rotate the baking sheets halfway through the baking to ensure even cooking.

. Let cookies rest on the baking sheets to firm up, about 3 minutes, before transferring to racks to cool. (Make-ahead: Store at room temperature in an airtight container for up to a week. Freeze for longer storage - up to 1 month if nobody  in the house knows about them.)

Cooling cookies on a rack helps keep them crisp.

. Makes about 24 cookies. 

Variation: Pecan Maple Oatmeal Cookies. Replace the cranberries and white chocolate with 1-1/4 cups (300 mL) chopped pecan halves and 1/4 cup (50 mL) maple chunks. 

The Oatmeal Cookies look more subtle with the chopped pecans and maple chunks, rice-sized pieces of hard maple sugar. A nice burst of natural maple flavour.

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Foods come and go, and foods come and stay. Think of the meat and potatoes Canadian diet before pizza, pasta, stir-fries, curries and quiche added their variety and zing to our daily eats. And when you're casting your thoughts over this menu, think of hummus. 

Two versions of hummus - the smooth one on left served with a drizzle of extra virgin olive oil and a few oil-cured black olives, and the whole chickpea version on the right. See below for both recipes.

It must have been the 60s when I first tasted the smooth chickpea dip. This was the decade when dipping went mainstream. Savvy hosts were moving beyond the bowl of French onion soup mix combined with sour cream, surrounded by potato chips ( a 50s innovation)  - moving onto the vegetable crudite platter, and the beginning of an appreciation of ethnic food. Fuelling an appetite for new cuisines was travel, immigration and an aspect perhaps not so well known, the Time Life series, Foods of the World. It was in the Middle Eastern Cooking volume that many of us were introduced to hummus. And then as the decade moved on and morphed into the 70s, the dip became part of the back to the land, all-natural, granola and whole grain phase - hippie food.

Every once in a while I get a real craving for hummus - not that I was ever a hippie, having missed being a boomer by a few years. I just like it.  And yes, I know hummus is available in 250 mL tubs in supermarkets everywhere, and I can go out and buy a tub to calm my desire for hummus. But when it comes to hummus, you can't beat fresh, homemade. That way the cook gets to add more lemon or garlic, and save money doing so. 

A Fine Bowl of Hummus

I'm sure the arrival of the food processor had its impact on the spread of hummus. Whizzing up a batch is a whole lot easier with the processor's speedy blade. No hand mashing or pressing through a food mill. But there is one time when I like to stop the blade, and that's when it comes to adding the garlic. Whirling garlic in the processor can bring out its bitterness, so I recommend chopping garlic cloves finely and stirring them into the finished hummus. Even then, choose the best fresh firm garlic you can find, and if the cloves are doing what garlic does in the spring, i.e. sprout, halve each bud lengthwise and remove the bitter green sprout. 

1 can (19 oz/540 mL) chickpeas, drained and rinsed

1/2 cup (125 mL) cold water (approx)

1/2 cup (125 mL) tahini*

1/3 cup (75 mL) fresh lemon juice

1 tsp (5 mL) salt

1 tbsp (15 mL) extra virgin olive oil

1 tbsp (15 mL) finely minced garlic (3 large cloves)

. Combine all of the ingredients except the garlic in the bowl of a food processor. Whirl until smooth, scraping down the side of the bowl several times to ensure an even smooth paste. Add more water for a thinner hummus. Stir in garlic. (Make-ahead: Scrape into an airtight container, cover and refrigerate for up to 3 days.) 

. Makes about 2-1/2 cups (625 mL) hummus.

Tip: If you like to accentuate the sesame flavour, drizzle in a little dark sesame oil with the olive oil.

Hummus Variations

. Cumin Hummus: Add 1 to 2 tsp. (5 to 10 mL) ground cumin and a dash of hot pepper sauce to hummus.

. Roasted Red Pepper Hummus: Whirl 1/2 cup (125 mL) chopped roasted red pepper and a splash of hot pepper sauce with the chickpeas and other ingredients. Jarred flame-roasted red peppers are a handy ingredient to keep in the fridge. 

. Hummus with Herbs: Add 1/4 cup (50 mL) finely chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley to finished hummus.

. Other Legumes Hummus: Substitute white kidney beans for the chickpeas. 

* All About Tahini: This is the secret to hummus appeal. Tahini is the ground paste of sesame seeds and is available wherever Persian, Lebanese, Israeli  - Middle Eastern and healthfood groceries are sold. In my local supermarket, tahini is available in the aisle of  international dry goods. Since the oil tends to rise to the top, a lot like natural peanut butter, you need to stir tahini thoroughly before measuring. 

To Go with the Hummus: Pita bread, warmed and served in a covered basket is what to order at a Middle Eastern restaurant such as the Jerusalem Restaurant in Toronto. Like tahini, pita bread is now available in grocery chains. To turn pita bread into crisp dippers, or the base on which to spread hummus, the breads need to be split in half, then brushed on the rough cut side with olive oil and seasoned,  if you like with a sprinkle of dried oregano or thyme. Toast on a rimmed baking sheet in a 400°F (200°C) oven just until crisp and browning around the edge, about 5 minutes. Or, grill outside on the barbecue until grill marks make a nice pattern on both side, about 2 minutes per side. Cut the rounds smartly into wedges and serve hot, or cool to serve later. Choose whole grain pita breads for extra nutrition.

Here's where healthy comes in. Carrot sticks or slices make the most reasonable dippers, and there's celery, jicama, fennel, endive spears, hearts of romaine, broccoli or rutabaga sticks for variety. 

The Many Ways with Hummus

So, a big tub of homemade hummus chills in the fridge.

.Serve it with celery sticks or crackers for after-school snack.

. Pack with vegetables for lunch as a change from sandwiches.

. Put a bowl out on the table to spread on baguette instead of butter.

. For company, serve a bowl of hummus with a drizzle of olive oil and sprinkle of black cured olives as a living-room appetizer with a glass of wine.  

. Add a nice spoonful of hummus to a grilled veggie burger, or slathered on grilled portobello mushrooms tucked into a pita bread.

. If you have a panini or sandwich press, a grilled or roasted vegetable salad with hummus is a bit of heaven.

. Then, there's always the option of going to the fridge with a cracker and dipping into the bowl of hummus for a bit of a private chickpea pick-me-up.

Whole Chickpea Hummus

There is a Syrian version of hummus made with whole chickpeas in Madhur Jaffrey's World Vegetarian (Potter, $62.00). The recipe below, adapted from  hers, is not pureed, rather a chickpea salad accented with garlic and lemon, as in hummus, but with the addition of chopped tomatoes and flat leaf parsley. You can include it in an antipasto tray or incorporate it into a lunch with feta or creamy goats cheese, pita breads and olives.

2 large cloves garlic

1/2 tsp (2 mL) salt

3 tbsp (45 mL) extra virgin olive oil

2 tbsp (30 mL) fresh lemon juice

Pinch cayenne

1 can (19 oz/540 mL) chickpeas, drained and rinsed

1/2 cup (125 mL) chopped cherry tomatoes

2 tbsp (30 mL) minced fresh flat-leaf parsley

. Chop the garlic coarsely on a cutting board. Sprinkle with salt and with a fork or angled blade of knife, mash the garlic and salt together to make a fairly smooth paste. Scrape into a medium bowl. Add olive oil, lemon juice and cayenne; stir well to combine flavours. Stir in chickpeas. (Make-ahead: refrigerate, covered, for up to 1 day.)

. Add tomatoes and parsley; stir to combine.

. Makes about 2 1/2 cups (625 mL) salad, enough for 4 modest servings. 

Chickpea Thrift

While canned chickpeas make hummus in a hurry, on a day when you have a little more time you can cook a batch of chickpeas from scratch, measure them into  2-cup (500 mL) amounts - the quantity in 19 oz (540 mL) can, and freeze them so they're handy for hummus, salads, chilis, curries and stews.

Here's how: measure 2 cups (500 mL) dried chickpeas into a large saucepan. Cover with 3 times their volume of cold water. Let soak for 12 to 24 hours, or  for a quick soak, cover and bring to the boil. Reduce heat slightly and boil for 2 minutes; remove from heat and lets soak for 1 hour. If you want to remove chickpea skins, rub peas together in the water. The skins will rise to the top of the water. Skim off the skins. Drain and rinse chickpeas.

Combine chickpeas with 3 times their new expanded volume of cold water. Bring to the boil, cover and simmer until the chickpeas are tender, depending on the age of the dried chickpeas, anywhere from 45 minutes to 1 hour 30 minutes. Drain, discarding cooking water. 

Makes about 6 cups (1.5 L) cooked chickpeas.

Tip: If you use your own cooked chickpeas in recipes calling for canned, you may want to increase the salt slightly.

Pierre Faucher looks for the doneness sign - the syrup sheeting off the bottom of the dipper

The sweet smell of maple. I can breath it now although it's been a couple of weeks since I stood by the evaporator at the Sucrerie de la Montagne. Testing the doneness of the syrup by lifting up a dipper of syrup from the evaporator and letting it drip back, waiting for the syrup to "break" or "sheet" on the lip of the dipper was a figure that looked like he had come out of the past. A halo of snow white hair and beard, sparkling eyes, young face and wearing a homespun jacket, breeks and high boots, Pierre Faucher could have been lumberjack or a farmer like his ancestors.

Pierre Faucher describes the maple syrup production at Sucrerie de la Montagne as strictly "pails and wood fires". It's a real taste of how maple syrup used to be produced in Eastern Canada.

And he had originally wanted to be a lumberjack, but by some twist, ended up with a very successful career in public relations. By another twist, he gave this all up for a life in the "style of my forefathers." His village in a maple bush near Rigaud in the Monteregie district north west of Montreal looks authentic with a general store, a handful of houses, saw mill, bakery/sugar shack and a large  dining hall complete with oil lamps and fireplaces. But he has brought them all here, fixed and assembled them into an village "to communicate to Canada and the world this way of life."

Visitors come year round for a taste of this old-fashioned Quebec, but I was lucky enough to be there when snow still covered the ground, sap was dripping into the pails hooked on the maple trees, and the 4-part evaporator was fired up and at a rolling boil. For Quebeckers, a spring outing to a sugar shack (sucrerie) like mine is part of the season. It harks back to a time when Quebec was more rural, and sugaring off was a time when friends and family were needed to help in the monumental chore of tapping the trees, gathering the sap on snow shoes, chopping the wood to fire the kettles where sap turned to syrup in seething sweetness. And don't forget, feeding the crew. As people moved to the cities, the nostalgia kept them coming back, at first still to family, but later, to commercial sugar shacks that had sprung up.

These visits became a way to mark the beginning of spring,  the thing to do - go to the country, buy up a supply of maple syrup and have a big meal in the sugar shack. And what a meal, just like workers of yore would have sat down to after a dawn-to-dusk  day of chopping wood and lifting pails. As I sat with friends at a table for twelve, I wished I had done the work of a lumberjack to make me worthy of the calories.

Pea soup, bread baked in the wood-fired ovens, homemade chili sauce, pickled beet and cornichons welcomed us. Surprise - a litre bottle of maple syrup in the centre of the table. Then a procession of platters of ham, sausages, meatballs, tourtiere, omelets, baked beans, pancakes, sugar pie -with a drizzle of maple syrup if you so desired. Then, outside for tire, maple taffee hardened on a bed of pristine maple bush snow.

You can just see the hand twirling a popsicle stick around a line of maple toffee (tire) Pierre Faucher has poured onto the snow.

The visit to the Sucrerie de la Montagne was only one of the maple-licious moments of this visit to Montreal and the Monteregie district. During the Montreal visit, I had dinner at Bistro Cocagne on St. Denis, one of the city's smart shopping and dining streets. That's where I tasted an incredibly good dessert, Pudding des Chomeurs, or Poor Man's Pudding. At the end of a great dinner, the waiters brought out dessert, four shallow pans of this warm pudding, cake on top, sauce underneath to share among eight of us assembled around the table. We were meant to pair up, share, in other words, but it was more like dueling spoons and certainly not sharing with others as you would like them to share with you. Here's my version of the pudding.

The Maple Pudding Chomeur - before the dueling spoons got at it.

Maple Pudding Chomeur

You are warned. This pudding is sweet, very sweet, and absolutely demands vanilla ice cream alongside. It bakes in a 8-inch (2 L) metal cake pan, and while a pan of this size usually serves 8, for the Maple Pudding Chomeur, an even dozen will be satisfied. Don't give anyone seconds unless they have dental insurance.

Cake:

1/4 cup (50 mL) butter, softened

1/2 cup (125 mL) granulated sugar

1 large egg, at room temperature

1 tsp (5 mL) vanilla

1 cup (250 mL) all-purpose flour

1-1/2 tsp (7 mL) baking powder

1/4 tsp (1 mL) salt

2/3 cup (150 mL) milk at room temperature

Maple Cream Sauce:

2/3 cup (150 mL) packed brown sugar

3/4 cup (175 mL) maple syrup (medium or amber grades recommended)

3/4 cup (175 mL) whipping cream

3 tbsp (45 mL) butter

. Lightly grease 8-inch (2 L) metal cake pan; set aside. Set oven rack to centre of oven and preheat the oven to 325°F (160°C). 

. Cake: In a large bowl and with electric mixer, beat butter and sugar until light. Beat in the egg, then vanilla. In a separate bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder and salt. Stir half into the butter mixture. Stir in the milk, then the remaining dry ingredients. 

. Scrape the batter into the prepare pan. Smooth the top and set aside.

Maple Cream Sauce: In a heavy saucepan, stir together the brown sugar, maple syrup, cream and butter. Bring to a boil over medium heat, stirring, Reduce heat and simmer sauce until slightly reduced, about 2 minutes. 

. Pour gently and evenly over cake batter.

. Bake until the top of the cake is golden brown and a tester inserted into the centre of the cake comes out clean, about 30 minutes. Let cool for  a few minutes and serve warm.

Make 12 servings.

Note that the cake is a little jiggly as it rests on the sauce. If you do have leftovers, reheat in the microwave. The pudding is not nearly as good cold as it is warm. 

My syrup is all buckets and wood fires

Local, in-season are  guidelines when choosing ingredients and recipes. That way, we get produce at its peak, sate ourselves, and then look forward to the next harvest. I would put asparagus, strawberries - in fact, any berry, into this eat-at-its-peak-then-wait category. And I would add Hot Cross Buns.

A sweet Easter bread from Great Britain, in my lifetime Hot Cross Buns have gone from being available only in the run-up to Easter, to being on-sale year-round. This really spoils the anticipation! But, if we can't roll back the clock on their omni-presence in the bakery department, we can certainly mark the season with a batch of homemade. You may never go back to those squishy bought ones, no matter the time of year. 

Hot Cross Buns aren't hard to make - I think the trickiest part is gaining confidence with a soft dough. But once you're comfortable just keeping your fingers dusted with flour as you shape the buns, and resist the temptation to add more flour to firm up the dough, you will be well on your way to a pan of tender, fragrant buns to serve for breakfast - or toasted, buttered and offered up as a post Easter treat. 

Hot Cross Buns

1/3 cup (75 mL) granulated sugar

1/2 cup (125 mL) lukewarm water

4 tsp. (20 mL) active dry yeast (traditional)

3/4 cup (175 mL) milk

1/4 cup (50 mL) butter

1 tsp (5 mL) salt

2 large eggs plus 1 egg yolk

1-1/2 tsp (7 mL) cinnamon

1/2 tsp (2 mL) nutmeg

Generous pinch each ground cloves and allspice (or 1/4 tsp/1 mL ground cloves)

4 cups (1 L) all-purpose flour

1 cup (250 mL) currants

3 tbsp (45 mL) liquid honey

. Stir 1 tsp. (5 mL) of the sugar into the water. Sprinkle yeast over the top and stir with a fork. Let stand until bubbly and yeast has softened, about 15 minutes, stirring as necessary to break up soft clumps of yeast. 

. Meanwhile, heat together the remaining sugar with milk, butter and salt, stirring, until butter melts and sugar dissolves. Let cool to lukewarm.

. In a large bowl, beat the eggs, egg yolk, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves and allspice together. Beat in the milk and yeast mixtures. 

. Beat in 2 cups (500 mL) of the flour, 1 cup (250 mL) at a time. Beat at medium speed for 3 minutes to make a smooth batter. (This is where a stand mixer is handy, but you can use a hand mixer or even your good beating arm and a wooden spoon. Consider it part of your fitness program.)

. By hand, stir in currants, and the remaining flour, 1 cup (250 mL) at a time to make a soft rather sticky dough.

. Turn out onto a lightly floured surface to shape into a very soft round of dough. Rather than adding a lot of flour to the surface, use a dough scraper of knife blade to unstick the dough from the surface. Dust your hands with flour to prevent sticking.

. Place dough in a lightly buttered bowl; turn to coat the dough with a light film of butter.  Cover bowl and let dough rise in warm spot until doubled in bulk, about 1-1/2 hours. Press gently and let rest for 10 minutes. 

. Meanwhile, line large rimmed baking sheet with silicone mat or parchment paper, or grease; set aside.

. Turn dough out onto lightly floured surface. Cut in half; roll each half to 16-inch (40 cm) log. Cut each log into 8 sections to make 16 pieces of dough.

. One at a time, shape the pieces of dough into smooth round balls, keeping the smooth surface on top, pulling and pinching the dough underneath. Lightly dust your fingers with flour if necessary. Space balls evenly on prepared baking sheet. Let rest for about 5 minutes. Press each ball into an even round puck, about 3/4-inch (2 cm) thick.

. Cover and let rise until doubled in bulk, about 45 minutes. Using a very sharp knife, and with deft light strokes, cut shallow cross in top of each bun. Let stand for 5 minutes.

. Bake in centre of 375°F (190°C) oven until golden brown on top and buns sound hollow when tapped on bottom, about 15 minutes. Transfer pan to rack. Warm honey; brush over buns. Transfer buns to rack to cool. Best still warm from the oven, Hot Cross Buns stay fresh for about 3 days, and taste like just-baked if reheated in a toaster oven or oven.)

. Makes 16 buns. 

. Tip: You can freeze Hot Cross Buns, but do so before glazing with honey. 

You won't just drop into Thomas Haas Chocolates. You have to find your way to North Vancouver, to be exact, unit 128, 998 Harbourside Drive to feast on the delights of this cafe, pastry and chocolate shop. This I did recently - along with a steady bustle of cafe customers picking up desserts and chocolate, or settling in at one of the tables for a latte and almond croissant.

The famous almond croissants are in the lower right corner. But everything in this showcase is delicious with a cappuccino or latte.

As the morning moved into lunchtime, the choice was freshly made sandwiches, quiche, pastries and espresso, some to enjoy on site, some to go. 

If you like, your sandwich can be toasted in the sandwich press.

"I like a busy place", recounted Haas,"people don't just come in to buy chocolates." That busyness created by the cafe/pastry and chocolate shop combo is something he learned from his father whose Konditori in the Black Forest Haas , the only son, was supposed to take over. As for some inner sanctum of chocolate "with brown squares", it's not his style, although anything created in the Haas production rooms behind the cafe is the equal of chocolate shops anywhere.

Busyness aside, you're enveloped in the aroma of chocolate as you enter, and excited by chocolate, its abundance, and its colour. It was the run-up to Easter when I visited Haas, and along with the Haas selection of hand  made chocolates, his own line of chocolate bars, baking chocolate and hot chocolate, the counter held a controlled riot of bunnies, eggs, ducks, race cars, nests.  Equally joyful were the colours, spring bright yellow, orange, green and even some reds.  Haas explained. "Christmas is more serious. People are buying chocolates for presents. But at Easter, you can have more fun. It's for the kids." 

There's no doubt about what season it is! These chocolate masterpieces created by Haas and his chocolatiers change with the seasons and holidays. The "Powered by Chocolate" shirt is a hint of another passion of Thomas Haas - cycling.

Behind the scenes, chocolate racing cars wait to be packaged.

To be a chocolatier, is to be an artist and love colour.

For chocolate, Haas sources premium Valrhona from France  and Felchlin, a celebrated niche manufacturer in Switzerland. Why these two? "I buy from them because  they buy mostly fair trade cocoa beans, no child labour involved. They conche (slowly churn the chocolate for smoothness and flavour enhancement) for a full 72 hours as opposed to other chocolate manufacturers whose the conching process lasts 3 hours. Quality depends on the best cocoa beans, then the length of conching time."

Bars come with playful comments such as "your recommended daily dose" and "sleek, slender, easy to hide from your friends".

For Haas, it's this quality that really counts. "I don't want to be big, I want to be good."

While the photo doesn't do justice to Thomas Haas, it captures his grin, and shows his generous spirit and playfulness. Between the production room where he is standing and the cafe on the other side is a pass-through cupboard. On its shelves Haas delights in putting chocolate treats. He swivels the shelves so the treats are accessible from the cafe. Kids love to find these little bonbons, theirs for opening the tiny doors on their side of the wall. Bet older kids do too.

Creamy Dark and White Chocolate Mousse

Several years ago Thomas Haas shared a recipe for a chocolate mousse martini for a Christmas issue of Canadian Living. It's hard to forget how delicious it was. To simplify for today, I've reduced the original three to two layers of chocolate, but haven't left out the flowing Grand Marnier sauce, a citrussy contrast in flavour and texture, Haas designed to float over the chocolate.

White Chocolate Layer:

8 oz (250 g) white chocolate, chopped

1/4 cup (50 mL) milk

2/3 cup (75 mL) whipping cream

Dark Chocolate Layer:

8 oz (250 g) bittersweet chocolate, chopped

1/2 cup (125 mL) milk

1-1/3 cups (325 mL) whipping cream

Grand Marnier Sauce:

4 eggs, lightly beaten

1/4 cup (50 mL) granulated sugar

3/4 cup (175 mL) whipping cream

White Chocolate Layer: Place chocolate in heatproof bowl over saucepan of hot, not boiling water; heat, stirring occasionally, until half melted. Remove from heat; stir until completely melted.

Heat milk until just warm to the touch; pour over chocolate. Whisk briskly until smooth. Let cool completely; chill until thickened enough for  a wooden spoon to leave a trail in the bowl that fills in slowly.

Whip cream; fold half at a time into the chocolate mixture. Divide among 8 to 10 demitasse cups. Set on rimmed baking sheet and refrigerate until set, about 40 minutes. 

Dark Chocolate Layer: Prepare following instructions for White Chocolate Layer. Spoon or pipe over White Chocolate Layer, smoothing top with back of small spoon if necessary. Refrigerate until set, about 1-1/2 hours. (Make-ahead: Cover with plastic wrap; refrigerate for up to 1 day.)

Grand Marnier Sauce: In heatproof bowl whisk together egg yolks and sugar; whisk in cream. In saucepan wide enough to hold bowl with enough rim to grip the bowl, bring about 2-inches (5 cm) water to a simmer. Place bowl over the water. Heat, stirring often, until the sauce thickens enough to coat the back of wooden spoon, about 6 minutes. Strain into clean bowl; stir in Grand Marnier. Cover surface directly with plastic wrap and chill. (Make-ahead: Refrigerate for up to 1 day.) Spoon over chocolate.

Makes 8 to 10 servings you can even stretch to 12 if you use little pot de creme pots or smaller ramekins. The idea of the dessert is to have a delectable taste of something fine. Replace the Grand Marnier Sauce with 1 cup (250 mL) whipped cream scented with Grand Marnier if you don't have time to make the sauce. Garnish if you wish with curled strips of orange peel.*

*To make the curls, cut 3-inch (8 mL) long strips of orange rind from orange. Trim each strip into 1/8-inch (4 mm) wide strips to make a strip for each serving. Wind firmly around handle of wooden spoon. Wrap with damp towel, then plastic wrap; refrigerate for up to 1 day. Unwrap and arrange a curl over each serving.

Grapefruit Marmalade - Ready for Toast

Good question. Here's why I set aside two afternoons in cold weather, one to make Seville orange marmalade, the second to make grapefruit marmalade.

Both these fruits make an excellent marmalade. The sourness of the juice and bitterness of the peel stand up like troopers to the quantity of sugar required to set the preserve. No need for added pectin to grapefruit or Seville oranges - the peel and seeds are full of the necessary setting force. In my experience, it would be difficult to make marmalade with either of these fruits that did not set.

Another reason I like making preserve is the opportunity they offer for the cook to admire her handiwork. Vanity, yes I know. My pasta putttanesca may be gorgeous, but once it's in the bowls, it disappears in minutes. Baking is a bit better. A fresh rhubarb pie may last from the time it's cooled until the lucky guest takes the last slice home for breakfast. But marmalade, you have days, weeks, months, up to a year to feast your eyes on the product of your talents and foresight. On a practical and less vain note, jars of marmalade make good little presents, and unlike a lot of quirky fruit and vegetable combinations, are really opened and enjoyed by the giftees.

I would happily have made Seville orange marmalade last Saturday when a cold sleety rain fell on the bank of snowdrops in the back yard. But the season for these bitter oranges is brief, and over. Grapefruit, on the other hand, especially the pinks and ruby reds are in season. They're big, heavy with juices and they make a beautiful warm golden-coloured marmalade. Alas, not pink or red, but burnished, none the less.

Once you've spread grapefruit marmalade on your toast or croissant, you will be reluctant to go back to strawberry or apricot. (Well, maybe occasionally you can break the marmalade-only rule.)

Grapefruit Marmalade

3 large ruby red or pink grapefruit, about 3 lb/1.5 kg
4 lemons
15 cups (3.75 L) cold water
12 cups (3 L) granulated sugar

Scrub grapefruit and lemons in warm, sudsy water; rinse well. Cut out stem and blossom ends, and pare off any surface blemishes. Discard these trimmings.

Seeds and membranes in the cheesecloth pouch, the strained juice behind, and the grapefruit and lemon peel ready to slice thinly.

Halve grapefruit and lemons; squeeze out juice, reserving seeds separately. Using a spoon, scrape out and reserve all membranes from grapefruit and lemons. Loosely tie seeds and membranes in large double-thickness piece of cheesecloth. Place in large heavy-bottomed saucepan. Add juices and set aside.

Cut grapefruit and lemons into the thinnest possible slices, cutting slices into lengths no more than 2-inches (5 cm) long. To speed up this laborious task, I usually stack the lemon, then grapefruit halves, slicing through 3 or 4 at a time. Add to pot with water; stir gently and cover.

Bring to boil over medium-high heat, stirring occasionally to prevent sticking. Uncover and reduce heat so mixture simmers gently. From time to time press pouch to side of pan to extract its pectin-rich juices. Simmer until peel mashes easily with fingers, about 2 hours. Remove pouch; press to extract juices and transfer them back into the pan.

Measure hot peel mixture; it should amount to 12 cups (3 L). If more, continue simmering until reduced to that amount. If less, make up the difference with water.

Place 2 small plates in freeze to use later for testing setting point. Fill boiling water canner two-thirds full with water. Cover and heat until steaming; keep hot. Warm clean 1-cup (250 mL) canning jars in canner 10 minutes before filling with marmalade. Place new canning jar lids in bowl; cover with very hot, not boiling, water about 5 minutes before filling with marmalade. Keep screw bands handy; they don't need any special treatment.

One of the most important pieces of equipment for preserving is the set of wide tongs in the front of the photo. They grip the jars safely when you're transporting them into and out of the boiling water canner.

In a large wide heavy-bottomed saucepan ( a Dutch oven is often the best choice), stir together 6 cups (1.5 L) of the peel mixture and 6 cups (1.5 L) of the sugar, mixing them thoroughly. Place over high heat and bring to a full rolling boil, stirring almost constantly. Continue boiling, uncovered and stirring almost constantly, until marmalade sets. This usually happens at the 10 to 15 minute mark. You will notice that as marmalade approaches its setting point, the colour deepens, the boiling bubbles increase in size and pop rather than seeth. The syrup clears. The boiling mixture reduces by about a third of its volume. These all help you to judge when the marmalade is reaching the set point. For the first few times you make marmalade, I recommend that you do your first test at about the 8 minute mark.

Nearing the setting point

Remove the pan from heat; take one of the plates out of the freezer. Drop about 1 tsp (5 mL) of marmalade onto plate; let cool for 1 minute. Push finger through blob. If wrinkles appear on surface, the marmalade is set. If the blob is still syrupy, return pan to the heat and continue boiling until a successful wrinkle test has been arrived at. At each test, replace the plate in the freezer for future tests, alternating plates so the coldest one is always in action.

Using a funnel keeps the rims of the jars clean.

Using funnel and 1/2 cup (125 mL) metal measuring cup, fill jars to within 1/4 inch 5 mm) of the top. Centre lids on jars and screw on bands until resistance is met. Increase to fingertip tight. Using canning tongs, place jars in rack in boiling water canner. Let rack down into the water; add boiling water if necessary so jars are covered by at least 1 inch (2.5 cm) boiling water. Place cover on boiling water canner.

Bring to boil; boil for 10 minutes. Turn off heat under canner; uncover. Let jars stand in canner for 5 minutes. Lift rack, and with canning tongs, transfer jars to rack to cool.

After 24 hours, check that lids have snapped down. Wipe jars; label. Store in a cool dark place for up to 1 year. Any jars that did not seal properly, i.e. their lids did not snap down, should be refrigerated and eaten up within 3 weeks. But note that is you used new lids, and your jars weren't nicked or cracked, you will rarely if ever have a jar the doesn't snap and seal.

Repeat with remaining peel mixture and sugar.

Makes about 12 (1-cup/250 mL) jars with a little taster jar for the cook. After all, you wouldn't want to give away any of your marmalade without knowing how good it tastes!

Cameron Bogue's fine martini - a classic!

“Vancouver is an awesome city”, said Cameron Bogue. Awesome, I agree, for many reasons, but for the engaging bar manager at the chic DB Bistro Moderne, the appeal is Vancouver’s strong cocktail culture. “Vancouver has cocktails you won’t find anywhere else in Canada. It’s light years ahead of any other city in in the county.” If anyone knows, it’s Cameron who’s travelled the chic cocktail cities of the world looking for new trends and ideas.
    But how so? Why Vancouver and cocktail culture? Standing in front of a sparkling array of a good hundred bottles and behind the real zinc bar that gives authenticity to the word “bistro” in the restaurant’s name, Cameron went on to explain that Vancouver’s one of the young west coast cities where fresh ingredients are a given and where there’s no lack of unusual (“crazy” is the word he used) ingredients. Like the city’s history, the crowd’s young, curious and hip, up on the latest trends in ingredients like bitters, tequila, glasses and syrups. Cocktails are a way of getting together with friends, “avant et apres”.
    But what sets DB (the initials from chef proprietor Daniel Boulud) apart from other bars is its meticulous attention to details. Cameron is very specific about glasses (he likes Riedel): utensils (strains martinis with a julep strainer, shaken drinks with a finer screened hawthorn strainer): ice (likes slow-frozen that doesn’t melt quickly diluting drinks and leaving shards floating on top): juices (freshly squeezed) and syrups (personal creations). And he chooses liquor for its quality and value, not for being the “it” brand of the moment, or simply the most expensive.

Bottles of house-made syrups

    So when Cameron sets out to make a martini, you know you’re in the hands of an expert. First, a bit of martini heritage. At its creation well over a century ago, a martini was sweeter because both gin and vermouth were then sweeter. (The "dry" in martini, I've learned, was to specify the newly available dry vermouth.)

“A martini”, Cameron said as he arranged ingredients behind the bar, “is the quintessential cocktail and  should be made with gin, vermouth and bitters.” For gin, it’s Beefeater because it is made with the original 7 botanicals, and he matches the gin with Noilly Prat dry white vermouth, also for its botanicals. 

    The correct ratio is 5 parts gin to 1 vermouth, and the secret of a superb martini every time, is measuring. There’s no eyeballing, or sloppy free pours when Cameron or his staff are behind the bar. Using bar jiggers, Cameron measured out 2-1/2 oz gin and 1/2 oz vermouth with a touch of Angostura Bitters into a 16-oz cocktail mixing glass, added some serious cubes of ice. Then he took a Riedel martini glass out of the freezer, used a neatly trimmed strip of lemon peel (sans bitter pith) to quickly rub the inside of the glass and the outside along the rim – where lips would touch the glass, gave the soon-to-be-martini a good stir, capped the mixing glass with a julep strainer and poured the prefect martini into the aromatized martini glass."Never shaken", added Cameron, "it dilutes the martini."  One sip, and...so crisp, a perfect martini.No wonder a classic martini is a cocktail icon.

    Cameron is the master of many drinks, other well made classics like the Mojito and Margarita and new creations, the Garden Daisy, for example, that incorporates carrot juice and fresh basil leaves for a refreshing vodka drink, or the Fong named for a Vancouver man-about-food-and-cocktails, Nathan Fong.

Straining the Garden Daisy

The Garden Daisy in a Riedel martini glass. The slight flair on the top makes for elegant sipping.

To make one of Cameron’s cocktails, the recipe for the Mojito is below. The Mojito, he claims is responsible for creating the cocktail craze, so strong in Vancouver, and, elsewhere, doing its best to catch up to Vancouver's awesome reputation.

Mojito

12 mint leaves
1-1/2 oz white rum
3/4 oz fresh lime juice
1 oz simple syrup (1 part granulated sugar to 1 part water, boiled, cooled and refrigerated)
soda water
. Place mint and rum in the bottom of a tall glass and gently bruise the mint with a wooden muddler. Add the lime juice, simple syrup and crushed ice. Stir. Top up with crushed ice and a splash of soda water. 

Satisfies one.