New Potato Project?

Here's the theory. I'm not even bothering to go look to see if it's been done before or not.

But how about potatoes -- I assume they'd be russets, the bigger the better -- which would be scrubbed but not peeled, then baked, then perhaps an 8th of the top of the skin removed, then all the insides scooped out and perhaps buttered, then perhaps some kind of chowder made, maybe involving clams, maybe not, maybe with bacon, maybe some sort of cheese, in order to create a very dense slurry, then perhaps the shell of the russet oven-baked until slightly crisp . . . then, being "stuffed" or rather, "filled" with the chowder, broiled in the oven for a few minutes, then served, garnished with Italian parsley or chopped bacon . . . d'you think that could be done? Has someone already done it?

Ranty Rant: Why?

I have a few questions to ask about restaurants in Montreal. Yes, I know I've presided over a website called montrealfood for almost ten years now.

But I still have the same nagging questions that I did ten years ago about restaurants in Montreal.

Here are some random nagging thoughts that have yet to go away, and most of them begin with "Why?":

Why are there seemingly 4,000 "Pho" restaurants in Montreal? Why are there maybe only one or two Cambodian restaurants? Lao? And why are most of them so terribly mediocre?

Why are all the "Japanese" restaurants in Montreal run by Chinese or Vietnamese, and why, if they're actually run by actual Japanese, are they so expensive?

Why is pizza in Montreal so very, very bad, to the point that a pizzeria that actually might serve something other than "all dressed" causes a sensation among "foodies" here, when they're a dime a dozen in, say, San Francisco?

Why is even fast food so bad in Montreal? So tired, so hackneyed, so predictable? That a chain like "LaFleur" actually exists?

Why are hamburgers in Montreal so bad? Why does it take an ambitious effort by some deep-pocketed ones (m:brgr) to come up with an actual concept of upscale burgers? Not that I'm saying that they're particularly any good, but only that there's only ONE of them. In San Francisco, Toronto, Vancouver, Denver -- the list goes on -- I'll bet you could find better hamburgers than m:brgr at half the price.

Why are the ethnic restaurants in Montreal so provincial, so tame, so unwilling to step out and serve their own food the way it's supposed to be served, not catering to the pathetic Canadian sensitive palate? All the Indian restaurants are the same. They all serve the same food. Very few exceptions.

Italian food here is pathetic, unless you have very,very deep pockets. Chinese food belongs in a 70's-era episode of All In The Family. French food -- well, they try to dress it up in Quebec colors, but hey, just having Arctic Char on a menu doesn't make it innovatively Montréalais. In general, it's bland, overpriced or deliberately gimmicky -- witness Joe Beef or any number of these "foodie" joints that serve comfort food at executive-level prices.

There is probably only one thing that I can come up with to recommend restaurants in Montreal as opposed to restaurants across North America.

And that's that you rarely have to stand in line or make a reservation. Hmm. I wonder why exactly that is.

Oh, sorry, forgot Schwartz's. The only place I can actually count as an anomaly: a place that serves mediocre food mediocrely, that rests on its considerable laurels as a Montreal "institution" and that actually has lineups for slices of meat on grocery-store bread in a cafeteria-style atmosphere with indifferent service.

That sums up Montreal food quite nicely, I think.

Shrimp à la Nick

I swear, I never have more fun cooking than when I abandon all thoughts of recipes. Yes, recipes have their place, but once you've cooked shrimp 1,000 ways you can just grab what's on hand and make it sing.

If you know how to cook you'll know how I combined brined shrimp with sesame oil, red peppers, garlic, onions, bamboo shoots and scallions and flambéed them with saké, added soy and mirin and cilantro and a little corn starch . . . well, you'll just know.

I'll never be able to duplicate this exact recipe, however . . .

Steak Teriyaki

This is always a hassle-free dinner and it doesn't take much time. It shouldn't end up like those teriyakis you get in Vietnamese restaurants (there are only a handful of Japanese-run Japanese restaurants in Montreal), with cloyingly sweet-sauced, rubbery steak concealed by too many inexpensive vegetables.

Contrary to popular belief, no one eats steak teriyaki as we know it in Japan. It's entirely a Western invention, like chow mein. The closest thing might be teppanyaki (think Benihana) but even in Japan that's considered Western food. And they don't throw knives in the air or behind their back. One interesting thing they do do is to put live jumbo shrimp on the griddle. Now that's something to watch. And the heads are a delicacy.

But there is no such thing as "teriyaki sauce." They usually serve the steak teppanyaki with a thin dipping sauce on the side. It's always eaten with plain white Japanese rice.

Since I don't have a griddle, but rather a grill pan, I had to do some things differently here. Authenticity was not my target. But these things are nice to have around, if not authentic (I like 'em, so that's what's in it!):

Carrots
Bean sprouts
Scallions
Mushrooms
Broccoli
Ginger
Garlic
Mirin
Japanese saké
Authentic Japanese soy sauce (preferably usukuchi)

And that's about it. I make my rice with jasmine and coconut milk, just because I want to.

So here we go:

Ingredients

A couple of nice steaks, about 3/4 of an inch thick. If you have the bucks, spring for filet mignon. If not, a ribeye will do. Don't get cheap steak.
20-30 mushrooms, preferably shiitake, but any will do, sliced
3 bunches scallions (green onions), sliced (use mostly the lower parts)
2-3 carrots, peeled and sliced on a bias
1/2 head broccoli
10 cloves garlic, 6 of which peeled and sliced very thinly, the others chopped finely.
2 tablespoons ginger, frozen and grated with a microplane grater
2 handfuls beansprouts, washed thoroughly and drained
3/4 cup soy sauce
1/2 cup saké
1/2 cup Mirin
1/2 cup chicken broth
1 teaspoon cornstarch dissolved in a little water
2 cups jasmine rice
1 2/3 cup chicken broth
1 cup coconut milk
Sesame or mustard oil


Method

Season the steaks with oil, salt and pepper, cover with plastic wrap and set aside, unrefrigerated.

Combine soy sauce, mirin, saké and chicken broth in a bowl.

In a sauté pan, sauté the mushrooms in oil on medium heat until they have given off all their moisture and begin to brown, about 10 minutes. Set aside.

In more oil, sauté garlic chips until they begin to brown and are slightly crisp. Set aside.

In same oil, sauté carrots with diced garlic for about five minutes; they must still be firm. Set aside.

In a little more oil, sauté broccoli florets for about 7-10 minutes on medium. Set aside with carrots.

Pour sauce in sauté pan and bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer. Add mushrooms and cook until slightly reduced, about 10 minutes. Add cornstarch mixture and stir until slightly thickened. Set aside.

Make Rice

I use a rice steamer. Rinse rice thoroughly and drain. Combine rice, broth and coconut milk in steamer and set to cook. If you don't have a rice steamer bring broth and coconut milk to a boil in medium pot, add rice, stir thoroughly to combine, reduce to minimum heat and cover tightly. After 18 minutes, turn heat off and let rice rest, covered, for ten minutes.

Cook Steak

Oil grill pan lightly and place on medium heat for about five minutes. Add steaks, cooking for about 3-4 minutes on each side for medium rare. Only flip once.

Set aside on warmed plate and tent with foil. Let rest for about ten minutes. Transfer to cutting board and slice against the grain as finely as you can. Pour any juices into mushroom sauce.

Put finished rice into a small bowl and invert onto plate. Transfer steak to plate, garnishing with garlic chips, briefly microwave carrots and broccoli until hot, place on plate, pour on mushroom sauce, then garnish with beansprouts and green onions. Serve.

Strine Wine

I like Australia. I always wanted to move there, in my youth. I learned to speak Strine and watched everything by Bruce Beresford and Mel Gibson. Throw in a Paul Hogan, and you pretty much have my star-speckled view of Australia, mid-youth. Oh, I made up for my absence; Toohey’s and Foster’s Lager were always a priority if offered (even though they taste like pisswater now compared to my hearty Quebec offerings).

But it was Japan that got me in the end. Same quadrant, different beer. And surprisingly, I met more Australians in Japan than I ever met during my years in California. I even roomed with one — some cobber that was convinced that all Japan needed was Australian beef, and he was the man to import it.

Not sure how that turned out, but he was a generous well of vicarious living as far as Australia went.

But to this day, mention Australia, and my ears perk up. So when I got a roundabout email announcing an Australian wine tasting here in Montreal, well, who the HELL was I to say no, mate? (That’s pronounced “mite” and is probably appropriate when it comes to me).

The occasion: Wine Australia. Don’t even pretend to laugh, you ignorant flock of wallabies. Australia now has some of the finest wines and finest food in the world. I was living in California when California overtook France as the the makers of the finest wines in the world. I’ve always been aware of Australian wine and although I’m not an oenophile, I know what’s shite and what’s not.

These guys have been prowling around in the Antipodes, eating their Balmain Bugs and having arm-wrestling sessions over which Sheila gets to make their ‘Roo Stew for hundreds of years before you and I were a twinkle in our grandparents’ eye.

But make no mistake, “MITE” — they make the best wine this side of Cook Island, that bunch of descendants of Cockney prisoners, that loose rabble of some of the smartest people in the world.

Tonight was merely the proof.

Held at the rather renowned restaurant in Old Montreal, Verses, a venue to which I, as an ostensible food critic, have never been, it was rather a tiny assembly of perhaps 40-odd attendees. Many wines were on display. They started with whites and sparkling and progressed down the line; as I said before, I’m no oenophile but I know what I like, and I’m most definitely a “Sparkling Whitey” when it comes to wine. I like white wines, rosés and sparklers, although I won’t turn down reds in a pinch. Just that I prefer a Grigio over a Cabernet.

The orchestrator of all this vinous vivaciousness is one Geoff McFadzean (pronounced “JestdabestShirazyouevertasted,mite”) who hails from Wine Australia’s Canadian marketing division.


Geoff (at right) and fellow Strine invaders

Geoff is an affable non-descendant of British prisoners. Okay, well, that might be open to discussion, since he hails from Toronto, all Montrealers’ favorite place in the universe.

But what must be realised is that Geoff is a decoy. He’s a benign-seeming representative of the Australians. We know him. He’s from Toronto. I mean, what would we do if a delegation of Australians suddenly appeared in Montreal, all looking like Paul Hogan and Olivia Newton-John, announcing they were from the Australian Wine and Brandy Corporation? They’d promptly steal all our partners with their underhanded charm, wouldn’t they?

No, they had to sneak in under the radar, and so they have.

I do go on, but I’d just like you to get the word out — I’ve been kidnapped by the Australians. Who knew being kidnapped could be so nice? Their wines are better than our wines.

Get the word out — before they overrun us all. Please note that the first invasion occurred practically unnoticed at Restaurant Verses, Old Montreal, November 3, 2009.


The first white station -- my preference throughout the evening


There were at least six stations like this one -- and every bottle at every one was good.

. . . and the food wasn't bad, either.

I'll keep you up with what's happening with the Strine Wine. Apparently most of it is already available at the SAQ. Go to wineaustralia.com for details. And tell 'em your kookaburra friend sent ya.

Jolly Green Galaxy

If you took Jolly Green Giant frozen peas and filled the Montreal Olympic stadium with them to the absolute brim, and each pea represented a star in our galaxy, you'd need two more Olympic stadiums full of peas to equal the number of stars in our galaxy (403 billion).

If you were able to count one pea per second, 24 hours of every single day, it would take you 12,675 years to count them all.

Good luck with that.

Pizza Night

Six of 'em tonight! Three tomato-based (mozzarella di bufala, tomato sauce with a hint of chipotle, ham or salami or prosciutto, onions, red pepper -- all scantly spread -- kalamata olives, gruyère, aged cheddar and Maréchal de lait cru) and three with goat cheese, sliced cherry tomatoes and a combination of the above.

I do believe I'm getting this down. Some before and afters:

Vietnamese Beef Noodle Soup (Pho Bo)

Brigitte is in Pho mode, which seems to happen every fall or so. But although I like it, it's not exactly my cup of soup as a meal. (Apparently Pho is pronounced "Feu" and is descended from the French dish Pot au feu).

But it was a challenge to see if I could match the Pho from her favorite Pho joint (Hoai Huong, on Victoria). In my research I discovered that to make it from scratch involved oxtail bones blah blah blah and I was not about to explore it with such fervor.

Luckily, I turned up a convenient can of Pho broth at Kim Phat, Cote-des-Neiges. No harm in co-opting the real thing. I added large amounts of plain old broth but also added in the spices I had found in my research -- the one giving it that indefinable "Pho" flavor being star anise, which I'd never used before.

It worked out far better than I could have expected. Brigitte said it was BETTER than the restaurant's.

So this one's Pho you.

Pho Bo (Vietnamese Beef Noodle Soup)

Ingredients:

Broth

1 can (796 ml/27fl. oz./3 1/2 C) pho beef broth (available at Asian groceries) or the equivalent in beef broth
4 additional cups beef broth
2 cups chicken broth
3-4 whole cloves of star anise
I stick cinnamon
3-4 cloves
4 garlic cloves, peeled and smashed
1 inch ginger, frozen and grated
1 inch lemongrass, frozen and grated
1 medium onion, peeled and quartered
1 fistful cilantro, washed and shredded by hand
1 1/2 tablespoons palm sugar (brown sugar is acceptable)

Method: Bring all ingredients to boil. Partially cover and simmer fairly energetically for thirty minutes. Strain through fine-mesh strainer and reserve broth.


Broth on the simmer

Other ingredients:

1 high-quality bavette/flap steak/top sirloin steak, about 3/4 inch thick
2 generous cups bean sprouts, washed
1 small white onion, sliced thinly into rounds
2 large carrots, peeled and julienned
3 green onions (scallions, spring onions) washed and chopped into 1/4-inch rounds, 3/4 of the way to the green end of the stalk
1/2 package Banh Pho (Vietnamese flat dried rice noodles, available at your Asian grocery store)
Handful cilantro leaves, washed and torn
Whole sprig Vietnamese basil or Thai purple basil
Mint leaves, if desired

Method: Put steak in the freezer for about thirty minutes. Using a very sharp knife, slice across the grain into 1/8-inch slices. Set aside.

In a bowl of hot water, soak the noodles while the steak is freezing.

In a small pot, boil 3-4 cups of water. Plunge beansprouts in for approximately thirty seconds to blanch, remove to strainer and chill with cold water. In same pot, bring the noodles to a boil and then remove after about 2 minutes. Chill to stop cooking.

Assemble dish; heat broth to boiling point, then pour into large bowls. Add the steak, the onion, the scallions and the carrots. After about three minutes, add all remaining ingredients and serve.

Posted From My Bed In Intensive Care

Well, Brigitte takes good care of me and I AM on my bed, but the subject line could have been a true one if what could have happened the other day happened.

I have a typical apartment porcelain bathtub and I like taking a bath, not a shower. So that day I was still groggy after waking up. After washing my hair with the flexible shower head, I was ready to get out. I unplugged the bath, turned off the shower and made as to stand up; this consists of putting both hands on the sides of the tub and pulling myself upright.

However, the cleaning lady had done the bath the day before and the bath mat -- the kind with suckers -- had not completely married with the porcelain.

So as I was three-quarters upright, my right foot slipped on the slimy bathmat and I began TO GO DOWN BACKWARDS. In an instant, while it was actually happening, I parsed the damage: the back of my head would have smashed extremely hard against the back tile, first, causing certain unconsciousness, maybe a fractured skull or a subdural hematoma, but then my body would have collapsed, my spine catching the lip of the tub in the back and probably fracturing several vertebrae. It would have been quick, over in one second or less, all 160 pounds of me dropped from four feet (my hip height) to a hard porcelain surface (imagine dropping a 160-pound sack of tomatoes onto concrete from four feet and think about the damage).

It would have happened, make no mistake about it. Those two or three seconds would have changed my life irrevocably.

If not for the safety rail I'd installed a dozen years before, for when my parents visited. My hand whipped out so fast for that rail you'd need a high-speed camera to see it. It stopped my fall cold. Bolted to the side wall, it's one of those ubiquitous things you see in hospital bathrooms.

IF it hadn't been there . . . people, I might right now still be breathing through a nasal tube with several worried relatives standing around my bed and wondering whether or not to take me off life support.

One word of advice after this happening to you: don't try to chop vegetables. You'll be shaking so hard realizing what could have happened that you'll just end up cutting off the tip of your thumb.

Repeat After Me, YET AGAIN: I Am A Moron

We all remember the delightful group of tourists who playfully decided to trek through Yemen, to the bemusement of their families and the amusement of the local tribes, don't we? They loved it so much there that they never came back.

Well, believe it or not, they must have inspired this delightful elderly couple who decided to yacht sportingly into Somalian waters to visit the darkies. Just warms the cockles of the heart, doesn't it, the sheer adventurousness of the human spirit!