Meet the Parents

So Paul sent us to his parents house. Against my protests, he was extremely adamant that they would be totally okay with it, that they were consummate hosts. He was entirely correct. Though his mom charged us with the laborious task of making sauerkraut, they were awesome. Sauerkraut is unsurprisingly simple to make, and it was fun for me to learn how to make it. As far as hosting goes, they basically just walked us into the kitchen, lit up a fire, and told us to get cooking. This is the ultimate in hospitality for us. A proper home kitchen and a fire barbeque? I didn't really know what to expect, but this was awesome.

So that night we made a super rustic almost all fire dinner with beef from their cows raised on their farm, and grilled veg from their farm as well. It was awesome. In particular, the onions they grow are fantastic. Super sweet, so bbq-ed was the best possible treatment, and they came out lovely.

We also whipped up a mustard and herb butter to top the steaks and veggies, then supplemented with a tomato and basil salad and some garlicky grilled bannock. Quick, super rustic, and madly grilled. Good introduction to Paul's folks.

Birthday Tour Pt.2: The Dinner

After the halibut farm, we also visited a small organic farmer tucked nicely into a wind sheltered valley. It was a pretty nice operation, very freedom to let things grow kinda thing. Massive amounts of squash, eggplant, herbs, particularly basil in quantities that could put a pesto manufacturer on his knees. It was really nice. We wandered the garden, picked some stuff for the nights dinner, and headed back to the house to have it weighed up and costed. An awesome part about the whole thing is this guy's house. It's totally octagonal, and rocks my socks. He bitched about it being impossible to renovate, which I totally believe, because everything has to be custom made to fit inside. Still, a striking building. Sadly we didn't take any shots of the farm itself, we were too busy picking tasty business for dinner. Speaking of dinner, after the farm we went to the liquor store to stock up before going back to John's for a mad amount of food.


When I say a mad amount of food. I mean it. John had slotted some pork belly scraps in the oven to just braise to soft gooey-ness before leaving the house this morning, and we had a whole halibut, on top of a bunch of mussels and bar clams that he had kicking in the fridge. We basically got madly out of control, but before I describe anything that happened, let me tell you about John's house and the kitchen that lies thereunder. This is no wimpy home kitchen, he's got one of those upstairs. What John did, and all real cooks would give an arm and a leg to do, was outfit his back cellar as a professional kitchen. For him, it makes perfect sense, he works from home. For all of us, it was an absolute playground of delicacies. We haven't worked in a professional kitchen for almost four months. It felt like returning home after an epic saga into the wilderness, like nothing had ever been so civilized as this kitchen. In all seriousness, he has a spotless kitchen with a six burner range, two deck ovens, two massive tall boy fridges, stainless steel everywhere, a dishpit, massive spice rack and dry storage, and all the space you'll ever need. It was stellar. And we used it fully. As soon as he had introduced us to the kitchen, it was time for us to get to work. I'd decided to make flatbread pizzas with the mussels, whilst Fabian got his hands dirty cleaning to bar clams, I made dough.
John pulled the pork belly, shredded it, and spiced it up into a terrine. I let my dough rest and butchered the fish, ze german made sauce and a quick heirloom tomato and salami salad and we had first course: Bar clams with white wine sauce. We had already finished all the beer and started our first bottle of wine, there would be many more to come.
Next I rolled out the dough and pre baked it for a stretch, it was going to be thin crust and sogginess was not an option. When the edges started to colour, I pulled it out and laid the toppings down. John had meanwhile baked some croustini to eat the terrine with, so we baked off the pizzas and had second course together. His terrine, and one flatbread with mussels, chanterelles, ricotta and a slew of different herbs from the farm including basil, nasturtium, arugula, dill and some edible flowers. The other flatbread had sungold tomatoes, sopressata, and more mussels. The terrine was mental good, and the flatbreads came out pretty well also. We had already gotten two bottles of wine down and finished another of champagne. And the beer.


Fabian also made a white eggplant caponata, very sweet and sour goodness. John made up a sauce to hit the top, and I seared off two fillets of halibut to cap off the meal. A little bit of chopped basil and the dish was complete.It was a hit, and needed another bottle and a half of wine. After that we sat and chatted, digested a bit, and then spoke of dessert. We were getting out of hand, and reined it in for the moment, then John got a wacky idea. What about searing chocolate cake in nice olive oil? I don't know where it came from, but it came strong, so he did it. It was actually nice, though it was all I could do to take a bite and concentrate on tasting in my stuffed and drunken state. It was good, but I could stomach no more, so after a wee drahm of whisky, we called it a night. I was buzzing like a celebrity cell phone on vibrate at this point. It was an excellent end to an excellent day full of excellent food. Who could ask for more?

Eel Dinner

So we couldn't just leave the area where we'd been helping with eels on the drop of hat, we first had to cook an eel extravaganza for our hosts. We had Mitch and local handyman/lobster fisherman/eel plant dude Terry come over to Mitch's house for dinner, where we made up a couple classic recipes. First was Mitch with eel Kabiaki, Japanese barbequed eel, drenched in soy and sugar glaze. Skin so crispy and tasty you wanted to cry.

Second came some smoked eel with some classic fixings.


Third was Fabian's eel, apple and onion tart. This was the biggest stray from the classics that we tried on the night. Worked out well. At this point we also broke into the Tantalus Riesling that we grabbed in the Okanagan valley. Worked some synergy with the meal at hand.

Fourth was 'eel en vert'(eels in green) a recipe for eel I pulled from an ancient Gourmet cookbook. It was a wild recipe. Called for shitloads of herbs, so I used everything green I could lay my hands on. It was outrageously delicious, but so bad for you it should almost come with a health warning. Just as a glimpse into it's contents: To thicken you use four egg yolks and a half cup of cream. It's called a liason, and nobody does that shit anymore. Besides the French, of course.

All in all the meal was phenomenal, we highly enjoyed everything that was laid out. Eel is a really versatile fish, it's fatty enough to fry, but still has a distinct flavour of it's own. I was impressed. I'm surprised that it's so little known.

For the record, if someone ever offers you the oppourtunity to kill eel in the classic way, you should probably not do it unless you like a good struggle with a slimy snakelike fish. I enjoyed it because it's an experience, but damn was it a strange event.

Toronto Round 2

So Toronto deserved a second round, which we happily gave it. After touring Niagara for a couple days, hitting the wineries, seeing the sites, and living the life of luxury, it was time to get back to the city. Toronto is massive, for those of you who don't know, and you basically start getting into 'Toronto' thirty minutes before you get anywhere close to 'Toronto'. I hope that makes sense. There were a couple people we had missed on our first run through the city, and it was time to get social. On day one we did got our beach spot back, and it was a little later than we intended, so we showered, relaxed a bit and hit china town for some cheap eats. I contacted my cousins in town, and also a friend of mine I haven't seen in a good long time. No sooner had we talked than me and ze German entered a fabulous dumpling house. This place was authentic, a little bit dirty, but seriously rolling and stuffing dumplings to order. I was suitably excited about what we would get. I feel it pertinent to mention that upon going to the restroom, I did have to stand next to several full garbage bags in order to urinate, not the most pleasant thing in history. Nevertheless, we had a great seaweed and sesame salad to start and followed it with pork dumplings. I don't want to say the dumplings were amazing, because the stuffing tasted of nothing in particular. That being said, the dumpling dough was amazing, the dumplings and stuffed and formed to order, and boiled right before serving. The dough was perfect, like a recipe I would like to thieve and have my way with. And by my way I mean stuffing some dumplings. And by stuffing some dumplings I mean with food products. Just thought I'd attempt dispel our societies collective dirty mind. I'm sure I failed. In any case, no sooner had we left the dumpling house than we saw a sign for "the best bbq pork in north america", a boast which we could not leave untested. We entered a small chinese restaurant which locals affectionately term Kum Jugs, because it's real name is Kom Jug Yuen. My cousin Matt met us there because he knew exactly where it was. He's also a cook, currently toiling behind the stoves at a spot known as 1800, for it's 1800 degree stove. We ordered a big platter of BBQ pork and chewed the fat awhile whilst waiting for my friend Allison to get there. Upon her arrival and refusal to eat some overcooked chinese broccoli in oyster sauce despite hunger pangs, we decided our purposes would be better served elsewhere. I really think Chinatown in Toronto is a special place, and one day I'm going to go there with like 300$ and a couple of friends and just eat one or two dishes at a bunch of different spots. It will be a festival of magnificence, and in all likelihood will result in at least one of us getting sick.

After Kum Jug's, our crew slowly meandered down Spadina towards my other cousins place, never knowing what was in store. My other cousin is Alistair, he's big, fun, intelligent and just won the Independant music award for Acoustic artist of the year. His band's name is Donalyn, and no girls and music agents(so many of which follow my blog I know), I will not give you his contact information. His house is right downtown in a wicked locale with a wicked patio, I was jacked. He even has a ping pong table. I'm starting to think I should almost dislike him on principle, because he's rocking out so hard. Anyways, it was great to see him because it's been a couple years and he was so shocked by my beard only one person has topped his reaction so far. We proceeded up to his patio and drank til members of our party slowly got knocked off one by one. We then went to a bar and billiards and played some pool before calling it a night. I slept at my cousin Matt's that evening, which is right near chinatown. This worked out well, as the next day I met with a friend of mine from childhood who is living nearby as well. Before meeting with my friend I took a quick run around Kensington and stopped in on Luis, the chef of Torito restaurant, who I'd met at the farmer's market last week. His restaurant is deceptively small-looking from the front, but it opens up into a large room, has a good sized patio, and a whole other dining room downstairs. He works with a lot of producers, uses parts not commonly used in north america, grows his own sprouts upstairs, and keeps a wicked latin vibe to the place, complete with gorgeous and attentive waitstaff. He also has a prep kitchen and office space upstairs, helping to keep the pressure off during the day. It's a really great place, well branded, with an interesting idea behind it. He has had to evolve it over time, and is currently planning some big changes, but it runs smooth. He told me that I was welcome for dinner anytime, and I should eat there before I leave Toronto. It was to be, as later the opportunity would arise for dinner, and what place should I choose but Torito?

Alex and I decided we should go rasta for lunch, and as such visited "The Ackee Tree", an all-Jamaican eatery in the heart of Chinatown. Sounds strange I know. It was relatively good, the sandwich I had was tasty, and Alex dined on BBQ chicken, which was decent as well. Alongside his chicken he got beans and rice, which was hilarious because he has recently traveled to Belize to spread awareness about AIDS and sexual education. That sounds incongruous but he assures me that almost all he ate while in Belize was rice and beans. We also had ginger beer with our lunch, which was so sugar laden it covered the spice of the ginger up. I was pissed. I love good ginger beer, I hate bad ginger beer. While dining on a late lunch I was also setting up a dinner date with Suresh and Nina, from Spotlight Toronto, who we had met at the Slow Food Pork Roast. He was really enthusiastic about Torito, and Luis had earlier invited us to dine there, so that was the spot to be. I do not regret it at all. The only regret is that I didn't return to the van before going to dinner, so I lacked proper clothing, hygiene and the camera to take pictures of the food. Also, I lacked Fabian, which turned out to be an issue, because he couldn't find the place, got lost downtown, and got angry. It was also raining cats and dogs, which I'm certain didn't help his mood at all.

In any case, the meal was most incredible, and the company was excellent as well. Luis really pulled out the stops, and we got course after course of delicious goods. Starting with serrano grissini with figs and olives, homemade bison salami, moving through smoked trout salad, stuffed poblano peppers, crab cakes,a duo of ceviche;one smoked one traditional, seared flying fish, braised lamb tamales, braised beef tongue and cheek, and finishing with churros and an amazing cacao flan of textural perfection. I was really impressed with the quality of food. The braised cheeks were a particular delight, the jus they were served in not too heavy and fat laden. The smoked trout was also amazing, barely smoked, still juicy and plump. Third highlight on the reel for me would be the ceviches. They provided a wicked contrast to each other, and the traditional was exactly what I was in the mood for that day. Again, the flan was also amazing, like phenomenal in texture and taste. All in all a great experience, and afterwards Luis came and sat at our table to have conversation and get in on what we were talking about. Topics varied, but always close to food. I loved the company that evening and really had a great dinner. Toronto is close enough to home that I will have to visit frequently and keep in touch with everyone I met there. After dinner that night I was as stuffed as I've been all trip, and retired, but not before getting some alfajores for Fabian from Luis. They remind me of Argentina, and that's awesome.

The next morning we'd arranged to meet Suresh and Nina again for Dim Sum. Dim Sum is an awesome sunday morning breakfast, and is a great tradition in general. Though Vancouver is supposed to boast great Dim Sum, there is also great stuff in Toronto. I know this to be true, even if I don't really eat enough Dim Sum to be a connoisseur or anything. It's just a matter of demographics and product availability. Either way, the place we were originally to go was shut down, so we asked a janitor if there was a good Dim Sum house around. This small, wrinkled dude pointed us to his favorite place, a block down and upstairs. We were one of two tables comprised of ethnicities other than East Asians, which is always a good sign. The dim sum was generally of good quality, and cart service is always nice. We were plagued by the perennial problem of overordering. What often happens in Dim Sum is that they send their first carts around, and then a second round with other different things. Now if you load up too much on the first round, you either don't have room, haven't finished what you have already, or are too full to order from the second round. It's a dilemma, and to circumvent it is to really know Dim Sum, because you know what you like and don't take chances on stuff that looks weird or just getting chicken's feet for shock value. I think there should be an Art of War for tactical ordering of Dim Sum. Volume two or something maybe. I'm sure it exists. Either way, the quality was good, I was satiated, and round two of meeting Suresh and Nina was as good as round 1. We got to know a little more about how they started up their enterprise and what brought them to the point they are at now, and exchanged some opinions on the best format for blogs/websites. After breakfast it was time for us to hit the road, but we said our fond goodbyes and I'm certain I'll see them again. A definite pleasure to share the table with. We were now to leave Toronto and visit another wine-laden region of madness, also known as Prince Edward County. Bacchus would be proud of this area of the world.

Toronto Round 1

I love Toronto, just putting that out there. I know that apparently half of Canada hates the other half that lives in Toronto, but I think it is an amazing city. I guess I was technically born there, so it does have to be at the very least incredible, just for surviving my first living years. Beyond that though, there are other boasts. It is a phenomenal place full of awesome people of every age, race, sexual orientation and culinary preference. It has little Italies, Portugals, Greeces, Chinas and Koreas, though the Chinas are not so little. Nor are the Italies, I guess. It is a city with surface culture, sub culture, counter culture, and some obscure other culture so sneaky it has yet to be named. I think it kicks ass in a million ways. I could walk around and eat in Toronto until I was homeless, and then build back up my bank to do it again at all different restaurants. The city is so saturated with food it's insane. We picked up Greg in Guelph on the way back into Toronto, and rode out as the three horsemen of the apocalypse. Toronto was great, though difficult to find a place to sleep in. For the moment, we parked at Home Depot and took a short train ride downtown to wander. We walked through the Eaton Center and around, all the way to Chinatown and Kensington market. We had a couple pints and something to eat in Kensington and then split with Greg to bring the van to it's overnight location. We ended up at a friend of my mom's, who was at her cottage, and therefore had a free driveway. It was way too far out of town for us to really manage comfortably, but we did it. After that, we took the train back into town and went to 'the hot and spicy festival' which was an embarassing place, though we had good posole. After that we met up with a motley crew of people and proceeded to drink pitchers of gin and tonic. That night got pretty out of hand, with Greg and myself meeting some friends from university and generally causing a fuss. It was nice to see people again, and great to get some social life back into the scene. You get tired of one another after a couple months in tight quarters, so it's a refreshing change. After the night out, it was a hell of a hike back to the van to sleep, but I eventually made it. I'm serious when I say it was grueling to find. The next morning we were late to get to the market, as the hangovers were in full effect. We managed to show up an hour before closing, have some interesting chats, and see the Monforte Dairy truck get painted up. Ruth was hanging out at her market table, so we chatted a bit. She introduced us to Luis, a mexican chef currently running the restaurant Torito in Kensington. I'd read about the STOP community program that his restaurant was part of. He's a genuinely concerned chef with a lot of plans and things on the go. He invited me to visit the restaurant when we return, and see what he is doing there. I was glad to accept. Other people at the market were interesting, but time was limited and we already had plans to re-visit Stratford for a cheesemaking mission and pig festival. We decided we would try to chance it with the car, and move closer to the city. Somewhere accesible by train at night would be optimal. We found said spot in the beaches. It also had easy access to showers, which are provided free down at the beach. Why there are so many dirty homeless people in Toronto boggles me. You can just go mutter to yourself in the shower for a bit. No biggy. That was a joke, some will take it in poor taste, but they have no sense of humour. We then decided we were going to take the thirty thousand or so recommendations we'd received to go to the Black Hoof, because though thirty thousand people can be wrong, it still improves the odds. It was amazing. We ended up eating seven courses, lots of wine and beer, and having some decent conversation with Grant, the resident chef and charcuterie fiend. It was a lavish meal, very rustic and refined at once. I was extremely impressed with the level of craftsmanship that he puts into his food, particularly the charcuterie. We had a platter with 7 different types of cured meats and pates, followed by a big peice of bone, full of juicy marrow, served with toasted points. After that it was horse tartare, complete with hot sauce. To chase that awesomeness we had sweetbreads, which he lightly smokes before cooking, with chanterelles and peas. Stellar dish. A tongue sandwich on brioche with tarragon mayo rounded out the parts of the animal we were used to. More uncommon than even I'm used to was a crispy pigs ear salad with radishes and a buttermilk dressing. Delicious and super crisp. The last and most confusingly delicious dish of the evening was pork belly, squid, and watermelon. I can't imagine how he came up with this combination, but it is amazing. He reduces watermelon juice with a variety of spices and fun seasonings until the sweetness is altered into a fruity, red sauce, reminiscent of tomato sauce. In that, he heats chunks of what I think was compressed watermelon, pressed in the sous-vide machine, or could have been just extremely dense melon he got somewhere. Underneath is a huge slab of pork belly, and it has a couple peices of seasoned, cooked squid resting atop the whole thing. I was astonished when I saw it on the menu, astonished that I asked for it, and even more astonished that it was so good. It is a dish that would suffer hugely from poor execution, and happily didn't have to. The owners, Jen and Grant, were both hugely kind to us, and we had a great time picking Jen's brain about places to visit for wine in the Niagara area. I really admire Grant for his mentality about the whole business. He says that he doesn't want the hoof to last forever. I respect that hugely. He likes it for now, but the day it becomes a stressful, hard place for him, he'll be happy to shut it down and commence something else. For now, they've opened the hoof cafe across the street, where not only their overflow, but it's own loyal followers, go to eat. Intelligent business practices, wicked cuisine, and a sound ethical philosophy based mainly around flavour. He gets the best pigs around, which happen to be the most free, natural and ethically treated pigs. He wants more control over the produce he is getting in, so he plans to open a grocery next door. Chef and his cooks go out picking mushrooms and foraging for what they can, run specials and run out. It is an awesome arrangement. I'm extremely impressed with the food, the people, and their dedication. I can't wait to see what happens next.

After a wicked meal, we went for a pint nearby, and then wandered the entertainment district. I had gotten home late the night before, so I retired while Fabian went out to work the scene alone. The next day showers and such were directly down the street, and then we went to a blueberry festival in the Brickworks market we had visited the previous day. At the blueberry festival we met a few new people and a swath of folks we already knew. The festival itself was relatively tame, and we had to leave before the pie competition, so we didn't really see the pinnacle of it all.
Not dissappointing, however, because we were off back to Stratford, to see both our friends and a pig, who would likely be delicious.

Edmonton

Edmonton, oh Edmonton. My liver is pickled and I smell like cow poo, what am I going to do about you? That was a fleeting attempt at poetics, which didn't go so well, but that happens on occasion, and I like to roll with it instead of erasing the potential embarassment. When you work on a feedlot, you don't smell yourself anymore, but later on you realize that other people likely do, so it would be perhaps gentler to society to wash. En route to Edmonton, we were delighted to find we would be staying with some family friends of mine. A delightful couple by the name of Ian and Terri Lynn, who were not at all grudging about having two dirty cooks in the house. When we arrived they were already cooking and sipping on prosecco, so that worked perfectly into our grand scheme of food. I didn't realize how long it had been since I had seen them until she didn't immediately recognize me at the door. This is only permissible because I am now sporting a righteous beard and most people think they are being invaded by vikings when they see me. After the initial fear of conquer and pillaging, they were extremely hospitable. We were shown to the basement suite, which was literally the entire basement to ourselves, and awesome. We both showered and when we came upstairs dinner was minutes away from ready. Ian was already prepping for tomorrows dessert and we were told to kick back and relax, maybe drink something, so we did. We're always happy to abide by that request.

We were slightly impromptu guests, so they had pork chops whilst we dined upon roasted chicken, all with potatoes and salad (from the garden, which I will extrapolate on later) to keep the estomach happy. Great dinner, and a decent start to our little Edmonton experience. After dinner we caught up a little and then decided to tear off to bed, as they were up beyond their typical curfew and we were exhausted still from Calgary.

The following day we spent the morning plotting, then hit the streets in search of gastronomic adventure. We took a bus and a train to downtown, where the 'Taste of Edmonton' festival was being held. It sucked. Like, badly. There was barely a person there adhering to any sort of quality, and even on it's face it was not the towns more prestigious places serving up fare. I hate to say it, but the taste of Edmonton is not Chinese and Indian food. That's the taste of Vancouver, and Edmonton can never steal it! We decided to give some of the food a shot. We invested in fish cakes, perogies, and bbq short ribs, deciding the latter two were representative enough of the region to be edible. In case you didn't know, all the prairies have a huge Ukrainian heritage, and they are proud thereof. The story runs that the Canadian government actually sent people to Ukraine promising as much free land as they could clear themselves, and a stipend to build a house. The Ukrainians swarmed at the opportunity. This was good because it meant the land was settled and the US couldn't just carve massive swaths of land out of Canada. O how crafty were thou, John. A. Moving on, the only good things at the Taste festival were the fish cakes, from some random Korean vendor. The perogies were more empty than full, and the dough was soggy, and the short ribs were barely tender and tasted like a sauce that you buy in a 40L pail at Costco. Depressing, but we were strong, and rallied. Then we left.

Wandering downtown Ed is a singular experience, it is at once boring and still somewhat exciting. Though the vast majority is cold, grey buildings, there are shots of flair, the art gallery and a few others. Another shot of flair was a random topless woman walking around downtown, acting like it was the most normal thing ever. I was impressed, that takes balls, of which she clearly has none by genetic default, so where she acquired them, I don't know. There was, needless to say, people running around and getting excitable, but whatever, it is legal after all. Shortly after seeing the exhibitionist, we found a shop called Healthfare. Pretty post-modern, nice interior, super sustainable build, and food comes with prices and calorie content. I don't care about calories, as most of you can probably tell by the food I've been eating, but it was a good thing to see, as it signifies thought about food, which is never bad. Unless its thinking about the pizza your going to devour all by yourself because your totally wasted, and even though you ate a big dinner your hungry for some reason. I swear I've only done that like, two dozen times. Anyways, Healthfare is a pretty decent spot, and we returned the next day to eat there, the food was pretty alright. Nothing mind-blowing, no epiphany food, but still likely some of the better food you can get at the price point, and fast as anything.

That night we returned to our abode, which was minus Ian, as he is also a chef and works proper chef hours, like 10-11. That sounds like a joke, but it's not. We made dinner for ourselves and Terrie Lynn, with a 'satay-sauce salad' and chicken fritters. Basically a peanut butter vinaigrette and chicken cakes the same way one would make crab cakes. Tasty. The greens were once again from the garden, which I must now delve into. Terrie Lynn is technically a doctor(having received her doctorate just this past thursday) and works for the university and consults in some field as well. Her proper title is actually farmer. Her back garden is jammed. Herbs, vegetables, berries and even a weird olive tree with no olives. I thought it was pointless too, but apparently it's decorative. The plot is no bigger than the average suburban back yard, but she has like 6 varieties of tomato, zucchini, parsley, basil, lemon thyme, marjoram, radishes, beets, raspberries and a ton of other delectables in there.
It's a wild scene to say the least. Every night we ate there, we ate something from the garden. They also keep a cool list of par stocks that they should have in their fridge, so they never really run out of wicked stuff to do with food. Upon Ian's return, we dove into some saskatoon berry pie. I shit you not when I say this was the best pie ever. It was so goddamn good it should have it's own post, which will follow this one, and just be a picture you can all look at in reverence. His secret is in his pie dough, and the fact that he doesn't make pies too sweet. I was so pumped about this pie I had to internally chill out, so I didn't scare my hosts off. Seriously, Ian should open a pie company, and become a millionaire. Before you become too astounded that a chef can make such a stellar, mouthwatering even now that I'm only thinking about it pie, you should know that Ian is a double threat, as he is also a classically trained pastry jock. Stupid good pie.

The following day, if I remember correctly, was market day, to be followed by relaxation day, then visit the farmer day. Market day was great. Edmonton has a large and well-established farmer's market, which was kind of a blindside hit for us, because we had no idea. However, we went there with the main intention of talking with Andreas and Mary-Ellen of 'Green's Eggs and Ham', as they were a contact of Ian's and dedicated to the local movement. We ambled through the market, watching people do yoga mid-street, listening to a jazz quartet play renditions of everyone's favorite techno, and admiring the produce on display. We were shopping for dinner tonight, which was to be the 'Tongue and Cheek' meal. Very Thomas Keller, if anyone gets that. We procured some veggies, cucumber, horseradish, and a few other tidbits. One thing we almost had to buy was this conical cabbage on sale at a cabbage vendor. It was seriously so pointed it appeared like a seashell, patterned by it's veins. Pretty amazing vegetable. We chatted with the farm folks, and decided we would visit them Tuesday to get a handle on what they are trying to do.

Afterwards we went and ate at Healthfare before returning home to the basement for some quality time with the computer. Fabian tried to drive to Safeway to procure more Clamato, but took a roundabout route which involved being pulled over. No ticket though, so good luck there. We slowly began dinner prep quite early, so that we would be well ready to plate and execute by the time Ian got home from work, early this time.
This dinner was pretty ridiculous. We did a similar salmon dish to Victoria's, because they sprung salmon on us last minute. With avocado, wasabi, toasted sesame, and grapefruit. It was pretty delish, but not as much as the following course. Shaved tongue with a cucumber and horseradish relish, as well as a potato and radish salad and "devil's salad" as the German calls it. Spicy beef cheek, with carrots in salad. The tongue was braised for about 3 hours, sliced super thin, then reheated with relish and stock in the microwave. It sounds ghetto to use a microwave, but this application was perfect. The meal was stellar, and a nice little cap off to our Edmonton exploits. The following day we relaxed until around 4:30 p.m. before heading off towards the farm.

Calgary Stampeding!

So the stampede is this ridiculous occasion in Calgary that is definitely the farthest thing from wholesome. Basically everyone in this city get's dressed up as a cowboy, frequents the local bars, and gets totally destroyed in one of three ways. Alcohol and drugs, fighting, or women. Any of the three could destroy you, but usually only one does per night. The stampede itself is a massive mayfair, grandstand and rodeo, but for young people is almost a sidenote to the staggering display of nightlife that goes on during the week. Everyone everywhere wears cowboy gear, which is sometimes hilarious, sometimes terrifying, sometimes sexy. I know that I now want to invest in a pair of cowboy boots. Not only are they badass, but super comfortable and basically the best protector for your feet in any weather and conditions. Laceless and easy to put on, as well as rugged enough to hike in, but stylish enough to wear to the bars apparently. I don't stand behind the stylish comment so thoroughly, but I do think they are badass. Moving on from cowboy gear, the stampede itself. The stampede is by far the largest midway and food stand thing I've ever been to. For those from Ottawa, picture the ex times 50 but also way better. The food is disgraceful, as it should be, the rides are cheesy and operated by drug addled carnies, as they should be, and the atmosphere is something like a mix between a saloon and a high school. It's a very unique place.

When we first got to Calg we decided to post up and start cooking, because our contacts weren't responding. Understandable, as they were probably in the middle of their work day. We stayed south of the city, and finished cleaning up our food just as a rainstorm came up. After that we napped and decided to take the train into the city. We ended up marching around downtown Calgary for a while before stopping into a stampede tent known as 'Wildhorse'. Basically a soccer dome full of alcohol and scantily clad cowgirls. The club itself kind of sucked, as it was totally bright inside and had no real ambiance to speak of. People were making the best of it, and certain cowboys were tearing up the dance floor with their two stepping madness. It's an interesting thing to note that there are men (generally between the age of 20-30) for whom the stampede is what they plan for all year. They can dress the dress, walk the walk, dance the dance, and go back to their very un-cowboyish office jobs once it's all done. It's one of those things where I think that it's cool, but also depressing, because fundamentally they do all this work just to attract women, when they could just be an intriguing individual all the time and not worry so much about it. Irregardless, that is the way it is and will continue to be. We left Wildhorse and returned to the boons to sleep.

The following day we drove into Chinatown for some breakfast at a restaurant named 'happy valley'. It was mediocre but did the trick. We then got into contact with a friend of Fabian's that he had met traveling in Laos. Perry Chen is a king among men. We met him in the Plus15s, which is something worthy of note. All over downtown Calgary there is a pedestrian route that snakes through the office buildings and over all the streets. It is 15 feet up, hence the plus15 name, and on a rainy day is the most useful thing in the world. It happened to be a rainy day, so we used them. The office workers can get to a variety of transit stops and food courts without having to ever go to street level. Anyways, back to Perry. He is one of the oil traders in Calgary, which means I don't really know what he does but he works for Shell, and though I don't love the industry that lines his pockets, he is a wicked dude. We went with him and a bundle of his co-workers to an oil party hosted by Thomson-Reuters, which was pretty awesome. Considering the fact that they were already giving us free booze and food, I think the woman hanging from the ceiling pouring champagne was just a superfluous extra, but I enjoyed it. After all, what is a party without a glittery acrobat serving the masses their alcohol. I actually was the first person the kneel down under her and get champagne poured all over my face and down my shirt, which I'm relatively proud of. Though Perry wasn't to be outdone on his home turf and lay right down on the ground and got the same treatment. I was goading him on the whole time, it was awesome. So after we each consumed about 300$ worth of alcohol, it was time to return to Wildhorse, this time with a crew of people. I barely remember most of Calgary, as it was basically getting sunburnt during the day and partying at night. The whole food trip was put on hold for a spell as we let loose and enjoyed the pure intensity of the Stampede. Perry and his wife, Jen, were leaving to Saskatchewan the next day to help Perry's parents move. This was shitty because the week would have been even more insane than it was had they been in town. Before they left they were awesome enough to just hand us their apartment for the five days we were staying in town. It was amazing to have a home base for the length of time we did, and the fact that it was just outside downtown was even better. We cooked them a pretty delicious dinner afterwards, so I feel we've repayed them in part, but it was still gloriously charitable of them to lend their house to a traveler they met once and his buddy. We had an amazing time in Calgary, met up with friends from both members of the trip, and went out altogether too much. We met some South Africans that Fabian had shared an employer with in Whistler, and who happened to be working on a feedlot south of Calgary at the time. They were amazing to party with, really great guys, and turned out to be an awesome connection to see a part of the food industry we would never otherwise have seen. I went to the grandstand show with the lovely Ms.Shannon Greer, of Carleton University fame. The grandstand show is kitchy beyond repair, but almost purposefully so. Parts were impressive. Fabian and I also attended the rodeo, though ze german wasn't feeling well and our seats were definite nosebleeds. The things they do in the rodeo make you question who the hell came up with these 'sports'. Everything is incredibly rooted in tradition, neglecting even things that keep people or animals safer or faster, stronger, or more able in favour of those things that have been around since the beginning. It is almost perfectly representative of the political climate here, which I won't get too into because it frustrates me. We also did one day of 'stampede food' after which I was nearly sick to the point of vomiting. Too much deep fried stuff is never good. We had a variety of sickening 'treats'. Taco in a bag was a definite highlight, don't judge me. They basically slice the side off a bag of Doritos and put taco fillings inside, including ground beef, green onion, lettuce, sour cream and cheese. Surprisingly tasty, though difficult to get Doritos on a fork. Another highlight was Pork Sundaes, which are basically BBQ pulled pork layered with mashed potatoes to resemble a fudge sundae, slathered in gravy instead of chocolate sauce. Relatively amazing. Lowlights include everything else, deep fried pickles, deep friend Wisconsin cheese, a massive turkey leg which was an atrocity of taste, and others. We skipped dessert (which include fried ice cream, fried funnel cakes, fried mars bars, fried jelly beans, and fried coca-cola syrup) in favour of not completely ruining our gastro-intestinal systems. Upon finishing our little culinary tour, we felt it a necessity to go back home and watch Superbad and nap. It was entirely worthwhile. My guts were in a tumultuous state to say the least.


Following that horrible assault on my stomach, we went out to the Kid Rock concert. I know what your thinking, why oh why, and frankly, I have no idea whatsoever. Fabian wanted to see rednecks at their finest. Anyways, it was a good concert. You won't find me defending his music per se, but Kid Rock puts on a good show. every riff and rhythm is stolen from some epic song, but he crosses genres, performs with energy, and plays the crowd extremely well. Throughout the show, he performs not just vocals, but piano, drums, guitar, and Dj-ing while drinking a bottle of Jim Beam. We had fun, and the three Quebecquois beside us decided to come out with us to our local Stampede tent, which was also a good time. I might actually get to learn how to horseback ride from one of them while we hit Quebec, which is something I've never done and am excited for. After that night we decided to give the ol' liver a break, and started brainstorming what to cook for Perry and Jen when they return from Saskatchewan. We hit the local farmers market, which was very boutique, sadly. The produce was good, but not all local, and many stalls didn't even label where the products came from. We stuck with the local goods, bought some hormone free, grass-fed organic beef (a rarity in this province) and produce from Alberta.
We ended up making Albertan beef tartar on local Potato chips, with an Avocado-buttermilk 'gazpacho', followed by Braised shortribs and their jus, over a bed of heirloom carrots, local peas and mushrooms. Everything was amazing, and we drank our Painted Rock Merlot to round out the meal. In a twist perfectly suited to the occasion, Perry also brou
ght in Nk'Mip merlot, which was one of the wineries we most regretted not getting to in Osooyoos. Both merlots were excellent, the Painted Rock particularly tasty, and were great accompaniments to a great meal. We followed the dinner with an apricot tart, but everyone was pretty full, so we had to finish it off the next day. So although Calgary wasn't totally food centric, we did do the province justice with this meal.

I'd like to mention another two food experiences in Calgary. One was the day after the oil party, when we met Perry and Keith, one of his work buddies, for lunch at the Avenue cafe in downtown Calgary. The place was packed, the food delicious, and the service was friendly. I was impressed with the locality of the product, not something you commonly get in Alberta, though the movement has it's legs now. The mushroom soup was great, roughly pureed and holding it's texture, and the sandwich I had was also tasty. The second food experience was one of our own creation, and of which there are no pictures. We made pork piccata and a braised radicchio salad on focaccia, which was phenomenal. Like so good it's stupid, and the best part? Leftovers as well. Another good food tip is Chinese Cabbage. It's often really cheap, tasty and versatile. It can be used both to saute or shaved thinly for a wicked salad with oranges or something similar. Stop buying romaine. After all this Calgarian gluttony, it was time to go see what actually makes it onto the supermarket shelves. Calgary feeds Canada, in terms of beef, so to all you who eat beef from your local supermarket, the following exploration is for you.

Victoria Pt.2

So after an exquisitely fast tour of the island, we're back in Victoria, this time with a serious purpose. We want to catch the biggest, most badass salmon the world has seen, then promptly make it taste like heaven. We split from Comox down to Victoria to jump at a chance to do this without paying a 600$ charter. My 2nd cousins father happens to now be a sport fisherman and general maniac. He's at least 10x as active as I currently am, and more than double my age. Seriously, it's inspiring. On the day we were leaving he was pretty relaxed about the borderline bicycle marathon he was about to undertake. Allow me to remind you that Victoria isn't flat either, so it's not just distance. Despite our comparative sloth, he and his wife were extremely welcoming and let us stay with them in exchange for the promise of dinner to come. We arrived late monday night, and scheduled to go fishing early the next day with no delay.

Fishing was almost exactly as much work as I thought it would be. It's not extreme, but there is some serious thought, planning and work that goes into it. The reason we left so early was because the currents are extreme, and the fish go with them. So we go to fish in between tidal moves. The actual set-up, provided you own and operate a boat(which is a big setup) is not too difficult. They have outriggers, which are basically mechanisms that hold the rods high and tight, and sink the lures to a desired depth. Its really an ingenious system. We went our to the "trap shack" which is an area of ocean just off the coast of Sooke, and typically yields a good amount of fish. Sadly, we hit an off day, and barely anybody out caught a fish. Another area was biting, but the salmon just weren't in the trap shack. We must have changed lures and depths a dozen times each, but still no luck. Not too serious a bump, as my uncle has tons of chinook salmon hanging out in his house already. However, it would have been really nice to catch the fish that was going on the table. Romantic in a way. Another thing I should likely mention is that I got sea-sick for the first time in my life. This has never before happened to me, and I've been boating before a handful of times. It was really nauseating this time out. Not too bad though.


So after that debaucle, we decided to drop the crab trap in the bay outside my dad's cousin's (I still don't know exactly what to call him)house. Crabs are trusty and reliable animals. We got about 20. It was pretty epic. We used chicken in the trap this time, which apparently they go bananas for. We had to thrown most back, as they were either female or too small. But we got three dungeness of proper size and one big ol' red rock crab. So now we had fresh crab, salmon, and a dinner to make. We decided upon canapes and two courses. Canape of crab, salmon in two courses.
Happily, their daughter had recently sent home some produce from Salt Spring, so we got to relive our little experience there. We had crab croustini with apples, sour cream and mint. On the side we made some crab bisque for them to enjoy when we were gone. For first course, we did Sesame crusted salmon with a beet green salad from foxglove, orange vinagrette, orange segments and a wasabi paste. Also had some sliced radishes from salt spring in the salad. I really enjoyed this course. The interplay between ingredients was perfect. Beets and oranges are a great combo, and the wasabi added heat without taking away from anything. The salmon was barely touched, and silky raw all the way through. It was like western sushi.

For second course we did pan seared salmon with sauteed spinach, yam fritters and blueberry sauce. My uncle had a bunch of frozen blueberries, so we cooked down a quick red wine sauce, tossed in the blueberries, seasoned and reduced. Really simple, but still delicious. The pieces of salmon we used were monstrous. I thought the fish must have been at least 40 lbs. The fillets were the thickest I've ever seen, and I've worked with some large fish before. Seared in the pan and finished in the oven, the width of the fish kept beautifully moist all the way through. It was really an incredible flesh to work with.

So we enjoyed a great dinner, the first fine dining style food we've done for company. It was a great success, and hopefully we can do lots more manoeuvers like it in the future. A huge thanks to Guy and Trish for being such wicked hosts. Even without knowing which one of us was related to them until Fabian started speaking with an accent. We had an amazing time and thanks so much for welcoming us into your home and letting us cook good food on a proper stovetop! Next stop is the Okanagan, stay tuned for wining and dining.