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Melbourne Day 5

Sunday morning we woke to a cool morning that showed promise of sunshine, which was perfect for our planned agenda: a trip southwest of Melbourne to the coast, to visit a few of the towns along the Great Ocean Road, one of the world’s reported most beautiful seaside drives.

As the hotel was packed for brunch, we decided to grab a snack on the way out of town, and our local hostess took us over to a small café and food shop owned by one of Melbourne’s most well known chefs and cookbook authors, Stephanie Alexander. The Richmond Hill Café and Larder is part café, serving great, simple, well prepared food, and part food shop, selling seasonings, condiments, books, and equipment. In addition, the have the most fantastic cheese room that boasts racks and racks of aging cheeses beautifully displayed along with fine wines. I made a note to come back and pick up bread and cheese for lunch one day.

Armed with a few fresh muffins and coffee, we headed out of town on the M1 towards Geelong. The drive south took us about 1oo km down to the beginning of the Great Ocean Road. Winding along the coast west from just south of Geelong to Portland, the seaside route hugs the coastline, winding up and down through a series of picturesque little towns and offers a breathtaking view of the ocean which stretches South to Tasmania and beyond to Antarctica.

We were headed about 80 km along the road, and drove through Anglesea, stopped for a photo op at the Big Hill, a rocky bluff that had posed some challenges during the road construction following the first world war. We wound down towards Lorne, stopping briefly as an echidna crossed the road. The small mammal resembles a porcupine, but is more closely related to the platypus as the world’s only other surviving monotreme (a mammal that lays eggs).

Once in Lorne, we stopped for a coffee on the pier, and walked through the local fish shop, and then made our way the last 16 km to Wye River. We pulled up to the Wye River Hotel, and had a delicious pub lunch, starting with some warm olives served with sourdough bread and Moroccan spices to share, and then fish and chips, made with local whiting. We tried the local beer, the Otway ale, and enjoyed the view from the glass walled patio with an amazing view of the sea.

Turning back to the city, we were fortunate to get some pictures of a few sleeping koalas in the gum trees. At Anglesea we pulled up beside the golf course for another set of pictures, as they have had an ongoing problem with kangaroos all over the course. There was a pack of about 20 enjoying the fairway grass, and when a foursome played through, barely raised an eyebrow.

We got back to the city around 6:00 and had plans to go to The Night Cat,
a local club which featured live latin music on Sundays. The concierge informed us that the Spanish Festival was on in Fitzroy that evening as well, so we took a cab the few km to check it out. There were 2 blocks of Johnston Street blocked off, packed with street vendors selling food, drink, and a stage with live music at one end. The Night Cat offered drop in salsa lessons before the band started, so we joined in with the rest of the house, before grabbing a table to enjoy the live band, an 18 piece afro-cuban group called Los Cabrones. The place was packed on a Sunday night, with a crowd of mostly young folks having a great time, and we were treated to some great latin dancers on the floor surrounding the stage.

http://www.rhcl.com.au/

http://www.greatoceanrd.org.au/

http://www.thenightcat.com.au/

(continued from part 1, September 8, 2007)

It was the spring of 1990, and as we prepared for a move to the country, a new direction in cooking and thinking about food for myself, and having just been married the summer previous had led me to a certain place and time. As I discussed with Herb the need to find farmers to supply me with “regular” produce, he gave me a number and said, “Call Gary King” I immediately picked up the phone, and made an introduction, told Gary of my direction and what I was looking for, and we had a conversation, one that would define how I would conduct business for the remainder of my career, as it would turn out.

Everything I had been taught about designing a menu for a restaurant and finding suppliers relied on a few main principles: Decide what you want to put on your menu, find the ingredients, and get the best price you can on everything. Pick the best products from each of your suppliers, and always shop around for a better deal.

As it would turn out, my conversation with Gary placed the relationship between supplier (farmer) and chef in a whole different context. It went something like this:

DG: I’m looking for a supplier of organic vegetables for my small restaurant and was given your name by Herb Barbolet as someone who might be able to supply me. What do you have?

GK: Let me tell you about our farm. My wife Naty and I have been farming here in the Hazelmere Valley since 1984. We have 10 acres which grow a large variety of crops: root vegetables, potatoes, herbs, shallots, tomatoes, greens, beans, corn, and the best strawberries in the Fraser Valley. We supply a number of restaurants, of which our biggest clients are the William Tell and the Raintree. Being our biggest supporters, they always have first dibs on things we have in limited supply, and when we supply someone new we have two rules: Our relationship and farming philosophy relies on you purchasing a variety of products, not picking and choosing a few select items here and there, and I won’t consider selling to you unless you come and visit the farm. Phone Lars Jorgensen and Rebecca Dawson if you like (chefs at William Tell and Raintree, respectively) and they will be happy to share information with you about us and other organic farms.

DG: I’ll be there this afternoon

Once I finished my brunch service, I hopped in my little Honda and drove the 45 minutes out to the farm to see what it was all about. Gary met me at the barn and for an hour we walked the fields, looking at plants, tasting, talking about farming and organics and companion planting. Seeing the strawberry patch, I expressed interest, and Gary continued on the morning’s train of thought: “If you buy my potatoes, onions, tomatoes, carrots, herbs, beans, corn and squash all year, I’ll consider selling you some of our strawberries. They are unbelievable, and therefore are reserved for those customers who support us fully year round. I’m not interested in dealing with chefs who only buy based on price, and aren’t willing to come to the farm and see what we do here first. Organic farming is about diversity, and in order for the farm to remain healthy, a large variety of crops must be grown and rotated in order to keep the nutrients in the soil in balance naturally.”

I took a few vegetables, picked fresh from the ground and the next day called the two chefs Gary had suggested and followed up on the conversations we had. Both of them said the same thing and really helped me understand the alternative train of thought. In order for small farmers to survive, chefs had to be open to buying everything they grew, and finding creative ways to incorporate those into the menu allowed both the farmer to maintain diversity and the chef to think about food from an ingredient first point of view. Yes, you could find products cheaper, but the freshness of “picked that morning” produce meant far better flavour, shelf life, and yield, and therefore the cost difference was much less than you would think. Also, the relationship with the farmer on a year round basis meant paying the same price all the time, rather than fluctuating seasonal prices in the market place. Once something was gone for the year, it came off the menu, and you would move to something else, again helping to develop seasonal creativity. They also both stressed the need of more chefs to subscribe to the philosophy and put their money where their mouth was, if we were ever going to have the kind of network of small farmers and regional suppliers that was present in Europe and California.

Having been newly indoctrinated into the organic, seasonal, local food movement, I embraced this new approach with open arms. My drive to work, once we moved to Aldergrove, started to mean regular side trips down country roads looking for farm stands and signs of product for sale. My attendance at the BCARA meetings became a regular monthly occurrence, and every farmer I met led me to meet another. By that summer, I had met a supplier for free range eggs, chicken, naturally raised pork, a custom sausage maker dedicated to old fashioned practices and natural ingredients, other farms which supplied ingredients that the Kings didn’t have, organic beef from the Chilcotin, fruit from the Similkameen, as well as sources for organic staples like grains, flour, and cheese. (at that point there were no locally made small cheese producers), but it was certainly apparent that this local movement would only continue to grow, it was only a matter of time before it went mainstream.

Hand in hand with that came the approach to seafood that I would adopt as the only sensible option: local species, in season, no farmed salmon, and FRESH FRESH FRESH. I was lucky to have a great supplier in Deluxe Seafood who understood the need to go out of their way to supply a small restaurant with certain products, like picking through 100 pounds of fresh sole to find me 10 lb of thick fillets, and it too was the start of a long relationship that would last me 20 years in small restaurants. In those days, openings for things like halibut and fresh spot prawns were sporadic, and knowing that I did the menu twice a week and ran a daily special, the 7 am phone call from Dave became a regular occurrence, saying the halibut boats were coming in or the prawn fisherman was about to land. Again, it became the fisherman who decided the menu, not the chef, and learning to wait and see what you would get to cook became a philosophy as well as develop skills that would serve me well for years to come.

My days became adventure before cooking, an exploration and a farm visit in the country to discover the menu, then off to the restaurant to cook it. Weekly excursions to Edenvale (then the largest organic farm in the valley) Hazelmere, Glorious Garnish, as well as the egg ladies (I had two, and would bring extra in for my Avalon milkman and his customers), P&G sausage, and more provided a year of inspiration and direction. A few praises in the press, as well as a few misses, chalked up to youth and inexperience, and I really thought we were on the verge of a real breakthrough in Vancouver. In those days there were few places to by natural foods and organic ingredients, Capers in West Van, a few co-ops, Kits Natural, and Sweet Cherubim were about it, but you could sense that there was a real market for wholesome ingredients, as the boomers began to turn 40.

Then came recession, and with it change.

We went through an ownership change, and although the status quo was left for a while, it was quite apparent that the vision my previous boss had shared with me was not shared, and by the spring of the following year, It was decided that a different direction would be taken. Since that direction involved getting rid of all of the “expensive” ingredients for a better bottom line, something I was not willing to do, I was sent on my way. Ideals still intact, I retreated home to contemplate.

(end part two. Next, from kings to bishops with a stop in between)

I’ll be the first to admit I’ve been remiss in my postings here, and although the last month and a half has been hectic, there has been some cooking going on in my life. I’ve collected some recipes together from some of the extracurricular activities that have been on my plate and shared them with all of you today.

January marked the start of a busy season, getting ready for upcoming trade shows, conventions, and such, as well as being invited to be one of 6 guest Chefs in the BC Hospitality Foundation fundraising dinner on the 28th. Never being one to decline an honour to cook alongside some friends (old and new) for a cause, I was paired up with Hills Foods to prepare a couple of appetizers and the main course. For starters, a wild boar pate was suggested, so we made a nice recipe that included dried cranberries and boar bacon, topped it with spiced beet relish and served it on pumpernickel toast. There were a variety of vegetables offered as well as some wild huckleberries, so the other hors d’oeuvre was a winter vegetable fritter with huckleberry compote. The main course was to be venison, so a simple, yet elegant preparation including roasted venison loin, caramelized vegetables, and herb gnocchi was decided upon.

The first order of business was a press dinner the week prior, a chance to meet the others involved and see the menu in its entirety. A resounding success, there was everything from local scallops, wild mushrooms, an exquisite study of local duck, the venison, and a selection of cheeses, followed by an exceptional dessert courtesy of Greg Hook at Chocolate Arts. My colleagues (Lisa Aheir, Ben Genaille, Rob Feenie, Daryle Nagata, Greg Hook, and myself) represented the province in great fashion, co-ordinated masterfully by Daryle Nagata at the Pan Pacific and his exceptional team.

The main event the week later, following on the heels of a busy weekend at the foodservice expo was also without incident, and a successful event for the foundation. February rolled into view and along came several events in close succession, all involving classes. I had been invited out to Wellbrook Winery, a fruit winery close to home to do a class in the evening, and did a nice light late winter menu of a prawn hot pot, goat cheese and beet salad, trout with mussel chowder, and pears poached in one of their wines with hazelnut shortbread. A lot of fun, good food, and a good time was had by all (including the teacher) To finish the week, I had back to back classes, first an all day seminar with 30 high school teachers for a professional day, also a blast. We packed the agenda with deboning chicken and trout, making about 10 recipes all together varying from mushroom risotto to creme brulee. Saturday’s class was a birthday dinner for a group of dedicated foodies, and we had a nice relaxed evening making goat cheese pate, grilled quail with mushrooms, a citrus and avocado salad, the roasted venison dish from the hospitality dinner, and chocolate souffle. All in all a busy week, but a great time and some great food was the theme of the week, and I had a chance to meet some great new people.

My family has not starved throughout this period, I’m glad to report, and I have catalogued a few dinner recipes to share soon, I promise. Until then, there are some new recipes to try, all of which have been a part of the last month’s events, some more than once!

Enjoy

In the 20 years since I first picked up a saute pan as a way to earn a living, there have been two occasions on which I have not had to work on the night of December 31, the first being 1994 when I was the Pastry Chef at Bishop’s, hence a daytime shift, and the second 1999, as we were closed for the Millennium. And then there was this year, and the first occasion that really felt like a night to enjoy the evening for what it is, an evening marking change, new beginnings, or whatever you want to think of it, but a fine night for a fine meal for certain.

I had the fortunate circumstance of the calendar on my side, having the weekend to decide to cook a nice dinner, and the time to prep, with only a half day to work in the office Monday morning. My wife and I had decided that we should invite some good friends over in an impromptu fashion, and I set about for Sunday to plan the meal. I had just cooked quite a fantastic dinner/class for a birthday dinner for some clients two weeks earlier, and two dishes from that meal stood out as possibilities: a hotpot with seafood, and smoked salmon with potato crepes, both having appeared in various incarnations in my restaurant repertoire, but new versions of which I had been thinking about.

For a main course, I had decided that beef tenderloin with mushroom ragout and potato puree, always a classic for a fine dinner, would be in order, and for dessert, I had some dark chocolate left in the cupboard from Christmas baking, so I figured I’d make a ganache tart of some description. I was sure another course would find me at the market, so set off for the purchase of the fixings.

Front and centre at the produce market were two things extremely complementary, fitting for a fine occasion, and worthy of a course unto their own: white asparagus and Cara Cara oranges. The former has always been a favourite for a celebratory appetizer, served warm with a butter sauce of some description, and the latter a newer variety I had come across, plump, sweet and tart at the same time, and a beautiful rosy pinkish colour not unlike the rio red grapefruit. The season for both is short, so I took it as a sign that that was the missing course. Some nice pears were perched close by, not too ripe, but just right for poaching, and I remembered an open bottle of nondescript white in the fridge at home which may provide a cooking medium and a nice counterpoint to the rich chocolate. I knew I had some blanched almonds in the cupboard, which would prove to accent both the third and final courses, and the menu was pretty well set:

Seared scallop hotpot

Smoked salmon crepes

Steamed white asparagus with Cara Cara oranges

Beef tenderloin with shiitake mushroom ragout

Chocolate ganache tart with poached pears

Once home, I set out my prep list for the next two days: Sunday: Make some demi glace with some beef bones in the freezer, almond pastry crust and ganache tart, poach the pears, hot pot broth, prep the mushrooms, marinate the steaks, and prep the mushrooms, leaving me in good shape for Monday to finish the prep in the afternoon and cook course by course for dinner.

I made the pears and the almond sweet dough, and started thinking about how the pears might be fanned out on top, and got them poaching so they could cool. I roasted the bones and set the pot on the back of the stove to simmer for the afternoon, deciding that since I was making demi, I should at least make a few litres so there would be some in the freezer, always handy for a class or a dinner. The hotpot broth was simmering simultaneously and the kitchen permeated by the flavours in three simmering pots of liquid, each with their own noble purpose: Brown stock, intended for demi glace, rich with roasted bones, herbs, and vegetables; Hotpot broth perfumed with ginger, peppercorn, soy, and chinese spices; and white wine poaching syrup with cinnamon, star anise, ginger, and lemon. What a feast for the nose!

Stage one well underway, I baked off the tart shell fully, lined with parchment and rice for the first 30 minutes, and then the final 5 uncovered to allow the bottom to brown (quite important for a dessert like this, where you want the crust to be quite crispy considering it’s not getting baked any further and there is a moist filling going inside) Whilst in the oven , I pulled put the chocolate and cream for the ganache and began to ponder what the addition of a heavily reduced shot of the poaching liquid would contribute to the filling, as it surrounded the senses. I considered it for a moment and made the decision that as long as it was reduced to the consistency of honey, it would soften the ganache enough without diluting it too much and making it watery. I ladled of a couple of cups from the then cooling pears and boiled it rapidly down, and once it had arrived at a glorious state of golden splendour, set is aside while I scalded the cream for the ganache. Cream into chocolate, a light whisk to melt and emulsify, and then I added the reduced syrup and gave it a taste. “Fantastic!, let’s just hope it sets now”, I thought. Into the tart shell and then the fridge, I set the now cooled to room temperature pears to chill as well, to make the task of slicing them a bit more manageable.

All liquids aside, strained, demi reducing, I took a break for the afternoon, and replenished myself with a liquid of my own.

Later that evening, the ganache had set nicely and I sliced the pears an arranged them on top, pressing them ever so gently down in the process. Covered and wrapped, Sunday’s prep was complete.

I returned from the office at about 1 the next afternoon, and after lunch spent a bit of time getting the prep “restaurant ready” so I could quickly assemble each course while having enough time to sit and eat as well. Scallops were cleaned (the little muscle on the side removed, which has the lovely texture of an eraser), Potatoes cooked, some for the crepe batter, some for the puree, batter made, puree as well, transferred to an ovenproof pot with a lid for a rechaud later on, 2 cups of demi measured out, the rest in the freezer, fennel shaved on the mandoline, scallions sliced, asparagus peeled and trimmed, oranges segmented and the juice squeezed out of the remaining flesh for the sabayon, a few baby carrots sliced on a bias to go with the beef, hot pot broth transfered to a pot for reheating, A nice bottle of red from the cellar (a 2001 Pichon Lalande, a gift from a wine dinner a few years earlier), almonds roasted and chopped, crepes cooked and stacked, and the remaining wine syrup reduced for use as a sauce. All was well.

About 7, our guests arrived, and after a preliminary refreshment, we began to eat.

First course:

Hotpot broth at a simmer, I seared the scallops in a small amount of vegetable oil and a very hot pan, and gave them just a kiss of sea salt once flipped. A nest of fennel and scallions in the bottom of the bowl, surrounded by the scallops and the aromatic broth was a great way to start, with a crisp unoaked chardonnay.

Second:

Crepes brushed with creme fraiche and smoked salmon, then cut and rolled into little cones, a few each

Third:

Orange juice and egg yolks whipped into a sabayon, with a bit of butter added to finish, then asparagus dropped into salted water for a quick cook. The combination of hot asparagus and rich but light sauce with fresh oranges and almonds was delicious!

Fourth:

A cast iron pan heated to very hot, and a sear of the tenderloin before a spell in the oven to finish. while the beef cooked and rested, I had 10 minutes to saute the mushrooms, deglaze with sherry and demi, and adjust the seasoning, drop the carrots into the hot water I had used for the asparagus for a quick blanch. Delicious again, by which time we were getting quite full, so decided to take a break before dessert.

The kids had all made plans to go out, and by this time it was 10 or so, so off they went, leaving us to enjoy our dessert afterwards. The tart had set nicely, and proved to be a very nice combination indeed, and a great way to finish the meal.

A bottle of bubbly was popped at midnight, as per tradition, and the end of 2007 and the beginning of 2008 given a rightful toast. A very interesting year to say the least, but all’s well that ends well, and end well it did indeed!

This weekend was quite busy, so Sunday dinner became a bit of an afterthought. Saturday I was out all day helping my friend and former sous chef Jeff cater a wedding for some dear friends of ours, whose eldest daughter (one of a set of twins, I might add) was getting married, with the reception being held at the family farm. I had gone out the day before for some advance preparation, and most of the food was being prepared and brought in from the restaurant, but an early day was still in order to prepare for the 180 guests. Jeff and I were out early, getting things organized, doing some of the final details, and conversing on the logistics of the afternoon. There was over 50 lb of bison that had been marinated and sent down from Fort St. John, 4 large spring salmon, and 50 chickens, which had been quartered. deboned, and marinated in an apricot five spice barbecue sauce the Jeff had made. 180 pounds of charcoal, 2 large barbecues, plus 2 gas grills were at the ready, so all was looking fine.

Around noon, the mother of the bride came into the kitchen with some troubling news: the pastry chef who had made the wedding cake had run out of time and had not prepared a special cake for the bride, who has wheat and dairy allergies. “Maybe he’s joking?” I asked, but was reassured that it was no jest. “Ok, what do you have? Chocolate, nuts, dried fruit, eggs? Bring me some of everything and we’ll make it happen,” I assured. I figured to make a collapsed chocolate souffle of sorts, making a batter with chocolate, eggs, and sugar, and then adding a large quantity of ground nuts to keep it from rising too much and making a nice dense torte. Dried fruit would make a nice compote for a sauce, and all order would be restored. The ingredients arrived from the barn, 70% organic chocolate, a dozen eggs, a pound of organic hazelnuts, and a cup of dried cherries. A springform pan was rustled up, lightly oiled with some hazelnut oil, and set to rest. The nuts went into the oven for a light roasting to remove their skins, once done they were transferred to the freezer to cool quickly. I put hot water in a large pot,and brought it up to a boil, turned it off, and chopped the chocolate into a bowl to set on top. The eggs were separated, yolks in one bowl with some sugar, whites in another for the Kitchen Aid. Yolks whisked to ribbon stage, I added the melted chocolate, whipped the whites and folded them in. The hazelnuts, now cooled were quickly rubbed and skins removed, processed into a coarse meal in the food processor, and after I grabbed a half cup for an impromptu crust, the rest folded into the batter. Into the oven at 375, check it in 35 minutes, I thought, and then popped together the compote quickly with a simple syrup, some spices, and the cherries.

Balance restored to the force, we returned our thoughts to dinner, and carried on with the afternoon. The fire was stoked, bison and chicken grilled and cared for lovingly, salmon was baked with a delicious hazelnut basil pesto, a few nice salads and vegetables from the farm, and the rest of the evening went off without a hitch. The bride was happy and none the wiser about the cake mishap, and we settled in to enjoy the festivities once it was all over, which bring us to Sunday.

Still feeling somewhat groggy from the previous night’s festivities, Sunday’s meal preparations became a quick and easy decision: A simple grilled steak and baked potato with some green beans for dinner, and a beef stew to prepare for Monday, so we could eat quickly after our son’s football game. A quick survey of the fridge: lots of carrots and sweet onions from the market still, needed some celery and other vegetables for the stew; steak, potatoes, and mushrooms needed for dinner. A quick trip to the produce store and butcher yielded the necessary provisions, and I set about for a quick and easy afternoon prep session. A couple of pounds of beef stew, seasoned nicely, floured and seared to a nice brown; the onion, celery, carrot, and turnip sauteed until just a touch of colour was present; and then a can of diced tomatoes, a bit of stock and herbs, and left to simmer for the afternoon. No recipes necessary for the steak: a serious rubdown with steak spice, coarse salt, and olive oil, a quick flash in the grill pan and into a hot oven to finish alongside the baked potatoes; a splash of olive oil into a couple of pans to saute a thinly sliced Walla Walla onion and some mushrooms to accompany (cooked separately to appease our resident mushroom hater) and the beans trimmed and plunged in boiling water. A satisfying repast, devoured quietly, and nothing left over. Success in its simplest form. The clan fed, stew turned off for tomorrow, to be joined by some bread or quick biscuits, and Dad was off to see legendary guitar god Steve Vai play at the Commodore.

Around midnight, I returned, both thoroughly inspired and amazed by the 3 hours of unrelenting instrumental heroics of the entire ensemble, I placed the cooled stew in the fridge to be enjoyed tomorrow, and toddled off to bed.

(special thanks to Simon Blackwell for not only his expert help, but with the fine pictures as well)

Yesterday, my first Saturday in years that I didn’t have to go to work at night, I decided to get up early and meet a few friends and former co-workers at the East Van Farmer’s Market. Ashamedly, my first visit, as many of the farmers there had been supplying me for years, forgoing my need to go down myself on a Saturday. The sun was shining, a beautiful warm September morning, and as I stopped in and took a look around I spotted Gabriel and Katie from Sapo Bravo, said a quick hello and promised to return shortly. After meeting up with my pastry crew, we made the rounds. First stop: Milan; picked up some tomatoes large and small, Walla Walla onions, beans, grapes. Next: Susan from Glorious Organics and the Organic Farm Connection; a bag of assorted coloured carrots. Back to Gabriel; the last of the peaches for the year, some green and purple basil, some plums. Over to Stein Mountain: peppers, mixed colours. By this time, my bags were heavy and after a nice visit with the girls I made my way home, arms bursting with produce.

Once home, a full assessment of the lot: the carrots were delicious and sweet, a shame to cook them; the bag of Sungolds bursting with sugar as well. Sounding like a salad, I thought, with some of the peppers, fantastic! The basil was amazingly fragrant, the perfume filling the kitchen. Definitely for the dressing. Peaches were perfectly ripe, something for dessert, maybe a Tarte Tatin, I figured I’d ponder it for a while.

A trip to the butcher with my 13 year old provided some conversation and planning.
The requests:

Foccacia: (Great, I can put Walla Walla onion and basil on top, and I won’t have to make a starch)

Crumble: using the peaches. Tarte tatin maybe, I suggest, but am convinced the crumble will be less work.

Main Course: let’s see, pork perhaps, the suggestion being mustard and bread crumbs on top.

A look at the counter and a beautiful rack of pork was spied, about 5 pounds. Perfect for the barbecue. Meat in hand, back home we went to peruse the cupboards for some inspiration.

Deciding to barbecue put the bread crumbs out the window, so I looked on my shelf of condiments to see what was there to make a marinade. Raspberry vinegar and hazelnut oil sounded like a good start. I needed some sweetness and spied a bottle of agave syrup a friend had given me. Made from the cactus that is used to make tequila, it has an interesting flavour and is quite sweet. I needed a bit of spice, and saw the tin of Old Bay Seasoning I had brought back from Baltimore. (For those of you unfamiliar, it’s a combination of celery salt, mustard, red pepper, black pepper, bay leaves, clove, allspice, ginger, mace, cardamom, cinnamon, and paprika). Just a shot to give it a kick. a bit of Dijon was added to the mix, all was whisked together and rubbed into the pork rack, then off to exile in the fridge.

I set about to prepare the foccacia dough, assembled it in the Kitchen Aid and set it aside to proof. I turned to the carrots (who had been fooling around unsupervised) and peppers, peeled and cut them for the salad, and gave the sungolds a rinse. I popped outside and spotted some small ripe cherry tomatoes in the garden and picked them to add to the salad. A few more windfall apples under the tree were gathered and decided upon for a sauce to go with the pork, along with some very ripe Italian Prune plums.

Then for the barbecue: When it comes to cooking over flame, I am decidedly still in the stone age. There is really only one piece of equipment that does a joint of meat over 5 pounds justice, and that is a very well conditioned Weber kettle barbecue. Loaded with real lump charcoal, (about 6 pounds for a pork rack this size), the coals were lit in anticipation. Once white hot, I arranged the coals on either side, providing a trench in the middle for the pork to drip without flaring up and bursting into flame, as well as heating the sides of the kettle, creating an oven environment once the lid was down.

Back into the kitchen, where the pork was removed from the marinade, seasoned well with coarse salt and steak spice and carried out to its new home on the grill. I reserved the marinade, put it in a small bowl with a brush for basting, and returned to attend to the bread. I punched the dough down for the first time, after which I sliced thinly one of the onions, and sauteed it in olive oil until golden, and set it aside to top the foccacia later.

Bread well looked after, I turned my attention to dessert. A pot of water was put on the stove to blanch the peaches, and while it heated I prepared the topping. Butter, brown sugar, flour and almonds were quickly combined to make a crumbly mixture, and then peaches were blanched, pitted, diced, tossed with sugar, spices and a touch of cornstarch to absorb the liquid, and placed in a casserole dish. A scattering of the topping was administered and the oven turned on to preheat. A quick trip outside to baste the pork, by which time the oven was ready, the crumble safely inside, and my efforts turned to shaping the foccacia.

I lightly floured my large cutting board, punched down the dough, and rolled it out into a rectangle the same size as my baking sheet. A quick burst of nonstick spray and a scatter of cornmeal to provide a nice crust, the dough was laid out, tucked into the corners, and lightly covered for its final rise. I chopped some of the basil, set some aside for the bread, and turned the rest into a vinaigrette for the salad with some red wine vinegar, olive oil, honey, and garlic.

One more trip outside to check the pork, another baste, and at this point I checked the temperature. It was only registering 120 degrees, so I figured I had 20 minutes or so more before it should come off. Back inside, the crumble was ready, so out it came, and the foccacia was risen nicely. A top dressing of the caramelized onion, including the olive oil it was sauteed in, plus a scatter of basil and coarse salt, and into the oven she went. My final task completed, I grabbed a cold beer and headed outside to keep the pork company on its final lap. Once it reached its correct temperature (140 F before resting, it comes out nice and juicy and just a touch pink) I removed it form the Weber, set it on a rack to rest and relaxed for 15 minutes.

We both made our way back in to the house, took the foccacia out of the oven, and all that was left to do was a toss of the salad with the dressing and to slice the meat and bread. That accomplished, we tucked in for a terrific summer meal, full of flavour, texture, and satisfaction.

I wonder what I’ll do next weekend?

The first of my Sunday Dinner series…

Last night, Milan Djordjevich from Stoney Paradise brought me a gift. Not just any gift to mark my new direction in life, but the tomato to end all tomatoes. Twelve years we have known each other, and there have been many fine specimens to grace my kitchen, but none quite as impressive as this. I opened the paper bag to see what was inside, and there was THE tomato, a 2 1/2 lb Striped German. It sat on the counter for the remainder of service while I contemplated its fate, knowing we were having friends over for dinner tonight, and wanted to see how that one tomato could inspire a meal.

I woke this morning to see it proudly perched on my kitchen counter at home, and decided that I would hollow it out and use it as a vessel to serve an appetizer, reserving the flesh for something, perhaps the filling. A trip to the market in the morning provided a few complimentary items; peppers, sweet onion, and basil. I had picked up a few chickens in the hope of barbecuing, and figured we had a good start. Once home again, I noticed quite a few windfallen apples on the ground from one of our two trees, and went out to gather them. Not quite perfect, but great for applesauce or something along those lines. The tomato plants provided a few cocktail sized red tomatoes suitable for roasting along with the peppers and onion to add to the filling, and by now, the menu was starting to take shape.

Roasted vegetable relish (served in the Striped German, with fresh baguette)

Roast chicken of some description ( I had given up on the barbecue as it looked pretty gloomy outside)

Something with apples, still under consideration

Half a dozen cocktail tomatoes, halved, one sliced sweet onion, and two peppers, seeded and quartered made their way onto a sheet pan and into the oven with a splash of olive oil and salt. An hour or so at 300 degrees, I figured, and started carving the tomato. The flesh was soft and sweet, so I chopped it lightly, salted it, and placed it in a bowl with a couple of tablespoons of chopped basil.

I let it sit while I split the chickens and removed the thigh bones, and put them into a large pyrex pan to marinate. A couple of tablespoons each of honey and grainy mustard whisked together with a tablespoon of balsamic vinegar and a quarter cup olive oil provided a good rub down, topped with a few sprigs from the garden: rosemary, oregano flowers, and thyme, followed by a healthy pinch of coarse salt and about teaspoon of chili powder. Birds comfortably in the fridge, I returned to the tomato flesh, decided to puree it and go from there. The resulting liquid was magic, and it seemed a shame to toss it in with the roasted veg, fresh out of the oven. Maybe just a shooter of cold tomato soup? By the time it was strained, there was only about 10 ounces, not quite enough for the eight of us, so I decided to make some gnocchi, and toss them in the golden elixir.

Back to the roasted vegetables, now cooled to room temperature: a brief chop, a splash of balsamic, a healthy dose of chopped basil, a pinch of salt, and into the shell of the German. Potatoes on, things really were shaping up. The windfallen apples were peeled, into a pot with some brown sugar and cinnamon they went, just a splash of water to keep them from sticking, and onto a low simmer. I figured a bit of fun would be nice for dessert, so settled on making some sweet cinnamon waffles, topping them with the applesauce, vanilla ice cream, and caramel. Popped the waffle batter together quickly and put it in the fridge, brought out the birds to be transferred to a sheet pan to go in the convection oven for an hour or so, and took the potatoes off the stove, strained them and allowed them to cool and dry out for a bit.

By this time, our guests were arriving, so I sliced the bread to go with the tomato relish, and sat down for a drink and a visit. Only the gnocchi to make yet, so we were in good shape. Once cooled to room temperature, I riced and weighed the potato, gather the prescribed amount of flour (1/3 the weight of the potato), a couple of eggs, and put the dough together while I waited for the water to boil. There was still a couple of tablespoons of chopped basil there, so I tossed it in, and rolled, cut, and shaped the gnocchi, laying them out on a sheet pan. By this time, the water was boiling, so in they went in batches (so as not to crowd the pot), and once they floated to the top they were cooled in cold water, strained, tossed in a touch of oil, and set aside.

The chicken was looking pretty good by this point, so I pulled it from the oven to rest, cleaned some yellow beans, and went back to our guests. the tomato shell was all that remained, and it looked quite juicy once all the roasted vegetable relish had been spooned out of it. As I carried the platter back to the kitchen, it seemed a shame not to make good use of the rest of the German, so I diced it up and threw it into the food processor, and strained the resulting liquid to add to the previous batch from the flesh of the fruit.

Beans went into the steamer, and two large saute pans were brought out for the gnocchi. Once heated to medium-high, I baptized them with a splash of olive oil, and divided the gnocchi among the two. Just a nice browning, then I tossed in the golden tomato puree and just cooked it enough to heat through. Dinner was served!

Following a respectful break for digestion, it was time to move forward on dessert. The waffle iron was heated, plates were laid out and the waffles cooked and quartered. A generous helping of the not too sweet applesauce on the hot waffle, a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top, and a fair drizzle of caramel sauce over everything put the finishing touches on a great Sunday dinner, the last before school starts and the first in my newfound existence. The kids went back for seconds, thirds even, polishing off the rest of the waffles and applesauce.

What a way to end the summer with good food and good friends, and to think it all started with one tomato, but what a tomato it was! I can’t wait for next week, I’m starting to get hungry again. Actually, there may still be some gnocchi left in the fridge…..

Welcome, and thanks for joining me as I spend time building my web profile. Content will be added continually over the next short while

For the past 20 years, I have been dedicated to developing my skill and my craft as a Chef here in Vancouver. During this time period I have had the good fortune to work in small restaurant environments where customer service and quality of food have always been of the utmost significance, and this has instilled in me the importance of consistency and quality control in all aspects of the food service industry. From my apprenticeship at a small neighbourhood restaurant where I worked in high school, to my current position as the Executive Chef of one of the city’s foremost and highly regarded small restaurants, that passion and dedication has always been foremost in my approach to cooking, creating, and managing in the restaurant business.

After 10 years as the Executive Chef at Bishop’s, I have felt the need for greater challenges and the opportunity to extend my skill set to a different environment. Although I have thoroughly enjoyed every day behind the stove, I have reached the point in both my professional career and personal life that I know the experience and expertise that I have developed over the years will be best utilized in the next phase of my career in a more managerial role. I take great satisfaction in the organizational elements of being a Chef, as much as the actual physical cooking itself, and I am finding that the reality of being the Chef of a small restaurant means that most of my time is spent in the actual execution of dinner service, rather than the planning, recipe and menu writing, and other things that I feel would make better use of my time.

Over the years, in addition to the day to day operation of the restaurant, and all that that entails, I have had the opportunity to work on many outside projects that have piqued my interest in pursuing different opportunities in order to keep my creative energy flowing and ensuring my growth as a Chef, Manager, and as a person continues.

This page is the beginning of that journey, and the start of many interesting new projects.

Dennis