Kickshaw Friday - a little bit of a few things

So it’s Friday night and I want to keep it short, so I thought a few miscellaneous food tips and thoughts would suffice.

First, I made French onion soup for supper tonight and wanted to do the classic baguette crouton with gruyere melted over. (See this recipe from Gourmet Magazine http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/French-Onion-Soup-236714 )

However, I didn’t have enough gruyere or a baguette and did not feel like going out. (This part I am not proud of.)  So I took hamburger buns and cut them in three horizontally to make the crouton.  For the cheese, I had a piece of Pecorino Romano left over from making sugo all'amatriciana, an amazing pasta sauce.  I grated this hard sheep cheese over the gruyere I had and its sharp saltiness added something very interesting to the sweetness of the caramelized onions.

Staying with tonight, I watched half hour of food TV that I really enjoyed.  At 7:00pm Mountain, Food Network Canada premiered Meat Men, a show about the large scale, but absolutely gourmet, meat company run by Pat LaFrieda Jr. (The was orginally shown sometime in April in the States.)  The owner gives great tips on selecting and cooking quality meat, including the fact that all the beef that he sells is good enough that he can tastes it raw first.  The episode was centred on perfecting ground beef mix for a burger to be used by renown New York chef, Michael White.  Pat started with a variety of sirloin cuts for one combination and added brisket with its fat content to another but neither were good enough for White.  So they threw out any budget restraints and went to Pat’s massive cooler of long-term dried-aged steaks.  Having added some of those to the grinder, with the sirloin and brisket, the result was a burger that made the grade.  Overall, there was a little bit of reality show drama but Meat Men is really about informing the viewer about the business of high-end meat, which I appreciate.

Finally, one of my favourite seasons is just about over.  If you live anywhere near British Columbia, try and find fresh peppers from there for a few more days.  I am normally not a fan of stuffed peppers, with the exception of this time of year.  I did a southwestern set of rice and corn stuffed peppers last week and an Indian inspired set yesterday filled with fresh paneer.  But even raw in salads these peppers have dimensions and fruity aromas that I have not found elsewhere.

The pepper display at the downtown Italian Centre Shop in Edmonton.  

So ends my Friday of kickshaws, kickshaw being an older English corruption the French quelque-chose - a little something. It was used as a cooking term with a meaning close to the way we use hors d'oeuvre today.

Costermongers or how reality TV and sixteenth-century English martyrs are connected

While watching The Great Food Truck Race yesterday evening, I got thinking about whether there was any historical equivalent of such street food in sixteenth and seventeenth century England.  The earliest instance of something really similar seems to be a continent away and centuries later: the chuck wagons of the North American cattle drives.  They had to cook things like dried beans and salt pork (one of the reasons pork and beans became cowboy food) which would last on journeys that carried men and women days, even weeks, away from a kitchen.  The distance and the need for portability just wasn’t a factor in England even five hundred years ago.  There was already an established system of inns that would feed the traveller a basic meal.  However, in and around Shakespeare‘s time and locale there existed a kind of food sellers that sold from a vehicle on wheels, or, more accurately, on one or two wheels. 

According to the Oxford English Dictionary, a costermonger is “now, in London, a man who sells fruit, vegetables, fish etc. in the street from a barrow. “  The current definition is less like a food truck as what is being sold might be unprepared and designed to be taken home.  Originally though, as the “coster” of costermonger was costard – “a kind of apple of large size,” the sellers were offering a product that could be bought and eaten on the spot.  Similarly, Henry Mayhem, writing in his 1851 book London Labour and the London Poor recounts that a common street-sellers cry during the reign of Henry V (1386 – 1422) was “hot sheep’s feet;” presumable selling them hot had no purpose if they were not eaten soon. 

Returning to the costermonger himself, his presence was significant enough in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries that he appears in many and often very serious works.  John Foxe’s 1563 Acts and Monuments, more commonly known by its abridged title The Book of Martyrs, represents often in grisly and graphic detail how, in the author’s view, righteous English Protestants were abused, tortured and executed by their Roman Catholic Queen Mary I.  There is one account of a Master Hooper, who was spirited away to his demise by two Sheriffs under control of the Queen.  Because the people of London would have objected to the arrest of such a good man, his transport was carried out at night and the while one Sheriff led Hooper, the other went “before, and put out the costerdmongers candles, who use to sit with light in the streets.”  Without light the people would not know to stop the heinous deed.

A famous play of the next century shows the street sellers in a more comic but more sinister light.  Bartholomew Fair by Ben Jonson is set during event of the same name that took place every year in London from 1133 to 1855.  Being in reality a common sight at the event, a Costerdmonger is made a minor character in the drama but his part is not a virtuous one.  He is complicit in the plot of Ezechiel Edgworth, a cut-purse, to rob a gentleman.  Shakespeare has his recurring comic character, Sir John Falstaff, use “costermonger” as a general term of contempt.  Responding to the Lord Chief Justice, the less than noble knight refutes the charge that he is a bad influence on the young prince who would become Henry V by saying he is virtuous but that “Virtue is of little regard in these costermongers' times.”  The word took on this negative meaning apparently because a costermonger would do absolutely anything to make a sale.  And thus we return to the message of yesterday’s Great Food Truck Race: that selling food in the street is quite often not about the food. 

Sobering Reality - Why watch The Great Food Truck Race when it isn't that interesting

Good evening.

Having promised some discussion on food television, I wanted to write a bit on the third season of The Great Food Truck Race, which had its premiere on Food Network Canada this Wednesday evening.  (I know that if you happen be reading this in the States, the real premiere was a week and half ago on a Sunday evening.) I wanted to watch this particular culinary reality show partially because the increase in popularity and creativity of portable foods in recent years has intrigued me.  In addition to that, this season, the show is using people with an idea and skills but without a truck; they are loaned trucks and the winners get to keep theirs.  Breaking into the food truck industry is something that someone I know has wanted to do for a while and I was holding out hope that it would be semi-educational in that context. 

The Great Food Truck Race did not open well, for me at least: it was quite pedestrian.  Tyler Florence is the host; I have enjoyed a number of his recipes, especially those from his show Tyler’s Ultimate but he is not the most dynamic of television personality out there.  Similarly, many of the eight teams seemed designed to fill stereotypes, like the old Italian men quoting Sopranos (Pizza Mike’s,) the Italian Jersey girls (Nonna’s Kitchen,) the flamboyant Californians (Pop – A – Waffle,) the downhome  Southerners (Coast of Atlanta) and the fumbling prettyish girls, who happen to be Australian and do barbeque (Barbie Babes.)   With the unique things I have seen and heard about being served in food trucks lately, there was also nothing in the fare of the contestants that peaked my interest. 

The three that seemed promising food-wise, a family operation from Alaska called Momma’s Grizzly Grub, a group of young Korean-Americans called Seoul Sausage and some pie makers called Under the Crust, were not able to showcase anything interesting because of logistical constraints.  This is where the show actually got interesting for me because it felt like it presented a condensed version of the heartbreaking compromise and the battery of microproblems that are involved in opening a restaurant.  For instance, Seoul Sausage’s menu promised Korean sausages and seemed the most unique, but they did not end up serving a single one.  The teams were given a truck with cooking facilities but nothing else, they were provided $1500 to buy any other equipment they needed, their supplies and a long list of items required by the health code.  Because of the code supplies, the three young men that made up Seoul Sausage were not able to purchase a sausage-maker, meaning they had to make burgers flavoured with Korean spices.  Incidents like this combined with finding a location, drastically paring down menus and resorting to gimmicky salesmanship made this feel like a more realistic reality show.  The culmination of this veracity was that only one of the eight teams made back the $1500 they were given, with one taking in less than $200.  I will be watching again, hoping that teams can get their act together enough to show me interesting food but also because I was educated in the reality that sometimes they can’t.  I have yet to pick a favourite team, which often makes similar shows more watchable but one benefit is that it means my favourite wasn’t kicked off tonight.

Tomorrow, how reality food television made me read about sixteen century Protestant martyrs and Ben Jonson’s Bartholomew Fair. 

Three Spreads in Smørbrød Mode

So because we lost internet for a bit late last night, there will be two entries today.  Yesterday’s entry, which became this morning’s, was a wrap-up of the Scandinavianish appetizer course that I put together for a gathering.  In addition to the cheeses mentioned in this blog’s last installment (Danish Blue, Sylvan Star Smoked Gouda, as well as Caraway and Dill Havarti) I made three spreads to go with cucumbers and cocktail rye bread.  All these were made on the fly as a result of my awesome time management skills, so the measurements are approximations.

The first was a basic and traditional dill cream cheese and included:

                ½ 250 gram package of cream cheese

                3-4 tbsp. of fresh chopped dill

                2 good squeezes of fresh lemon juice

                A pinch of salt

Combine all ingredients in a small bowl and whip for a few seconds with a fork.  The lemon juice breaks down the cream cheese slightly and makes the mixture more spreadable. Ideally allow the spread to sit in the fridge and develop flavour for about an hour before serving.

The second is even more basic and involves trying to tone down the Danish Blue and make a smooth spread of it.  Take:

                ½ 250 gram package of cream cheese

                50 grams of Danish Blue cheese

                A very short squeeze of fresh lemon juice

Mix the ingredients together, chill and serve.

The third spread was the least traditional but its sweet and sourness made it a welcomed contrast to the other two.  Part of my inspiration for this came from the rhubarb chutneys that the English semi-regularly put with salmon.  Some also comes from René Redzepi’s use of it the summer “weed” with seafood.  Redzepi is the head chef at NOMA, the Danish establishment that has been given the number one place for three years running in San Pelegrino’s list of the fifty best restaurants in the world (http://www.theworlds50best.com/).  An example of one such recipe, “Fresh Shrimp and Pickled Seaweed, Stonecrop and Rhubarb Juice” can be found in the NOMA cookbook, a beautifully photographed piece of art and cookery instruction.  

Honeyed Goat Cheese and Rhubarb Spread

My concoction does not try to come close to the complexity of Redzepi’s work or even of a chutney but I hope the spirit and a bit of the flavour is there.  When making it, use small to medium stalks of rhubarb, trim about an inch from the bottom and then only use about two inches from there.  The pieces you end up with should be pink or pale red and the tenderest part of the plant. Slice it as thin as you can across the stalk, which should cut the stringiness to a minimum.

Ingredients:

                100 grams of soft goat cheese (chèvre)

                2 2-inch pieces of rhubarb thinly sliced (see above)

                2 tbsp. honey

                2 tsps. apple cider vinegar

                1 good grind of fresh black pepper

                A couple of pinches of salt

Mix all ingredients in a small bowl, whip with a fork and chill for an hour to soften rhubarb and let its juice infuse.  

Here is a part of the appetizer course as served, including the Danish Blue cheese, Sylvan Star Smoked Gouda and the Honeyed Goat Cheese and Rhubarb Spread on cocktail rye.

An Excuse to Talk about a Couple of Cheeses

I have been asked to think up a part of an appetizer/hors d'oeuvre platter for a friend’s gathering tomorrow.  It will revolve around hot smoked salmon that someone else is providing and so I decided to go for a Scandinavian or at least northern European theme.  It is, as yet, a work in progress and I hope to show and write a bit more about it tomorrow but this evening I would like highlight a couple of cheeses that will be included.  

I am probably working a little bit in the area of the smørbrød or Danish open face sandwich, so I will have some rye and pumpernickel bread, with some of the classic accompaniments like cucumber and dill.  I have chosen some cheeses that range from the very traditional to the not sure it will work, but love the cheese and am willing to give it a try.  On the traditional side I will be serving Danish Blue cheese, Dill Havarti, Caraway Havarti, and a spreadable mix of cream cheese and Danish Blue.  More adventurous will be a spread I will make with creamy goat cheese and herbs and, if I can make it work, rhubarb (more on that tomorrow,) as well as, Sylvan Star Smoked Gouda.

The most traditional is the Danish Blue cheese. It is one of only two cheeses from Denmark that carries the European Union’s PGI (Protected Geographical Indication) designation. To qualify for this, an agricultural product or foodstuff must be, according to the EU website, “closely linked to a geographical area [and] at least one of the stages of production, processing or preparation takes place in the area.”  In other words, Danish Blue cheese must be made like it was traditionally made in Denmark and must be a least partially be produced there today.  PGI is thus slightly different from another EU category - PDO (Protected Designation of Origin -) those products must be traditional and wholly produced in a given area.  Some example of PDO products are Parmigiano Reggiano, which must be made in Italy’s Emilia-Romagna, and Jersey Royal potatoes, which must be grown on the Island of Jersey.  For more information see: http://ec.europa.eu/agriculture/quality/schemes/index_en.htm .

Danish Blue cheese has a tradition going back to 1927, when it was invented as milder version of the French Roquefort.  Manufacturers make the curd from whole homogenized cows’ milk, which is employed relatively rarely in cheese making.  Copper rods are used to insert bacteria into the wheels, which causes the “blue” veins to begin to form.  It is then left from between eight to ten weeks to allow it to age and the strong yet sweet flavour to develop.   

The other cheese that I will spend a few words on is the last one on my list and the one I am not sure is going to work.  It is a smoked cheese, which usual is not put with smoked fish or meats, but Sylvan Star’s Smoked Gouda might be smooth enough and its flavour subtle enough to make it work.  Sylvan Star is a cheese-maker located in the Red Deer area of Alberta, which is quite local to where I am currently living and where I learned most of what I know about cheese.  I worked for a number of years here in Edmonton at the Italian Centre Shop and that is where I first tasted, recommended and sold Sylvan Star Gouda.  Much of the decent gouda we get in Canada is Dutch and while it is very good, it is mass produced there like cheddar is here.  This is especially true of smoked gouda: the Dutch version most commonly found here is processed, so it is fairly one-note, a very good note but not a complex one. The local Sylvan Star products I have tasted have a number of layers of flavour.  If this sounds like a plug, it is, but I am not getting anything from it and it’s eating local, so I feel good about it.  I will let you know how the gouda works in my smørbrød context tomorrow.